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Filled with shadows and…moorshadows.
Nothing more, nothing less. It’s in the name, but when we came here fourteen years ago, my mama and I, I didn’t understand. Yet day after day, week after week, it has drained my perky step and cheery smile and turned me into just another one of them.
I lurk in the shadows, hiding from the sun's glare as if threatened by its rays. I don’t know why I’m here. I do this every week, watching the brutality before my eyes, but I gain nothing. There’s not much else you can do here, though, and the four walls I call home were consuming me. This was the only alternative that didn’t involve a mistake at the end of it. More specifically, a guy. Any of them. Shadowmoor produces bad people and even worse lovers.
Sighing, I throw my hood up and stuff my hands into my pockets as I slink away from the pit. I avoid the larger crowds, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other until I step through the side door and find myself in the forest again.
I purse my lips as I glance back at the tree trunk I just stepped out of, expecting something…moreto happen, but, as usual, nothing does. Keeping my hood over my face, I head for the clearing that is the fastest way home.
After only two steps, I halt at the sound of a snapping branch. I know it wasn’t me. The noise came from my left. I was hoping to avoid this tonight, my knuckles still busted from the beginning of the week, but there’s no rest for the wicked.
“Is that little Raven out all alone? Whatever will we do with her?”
Disappointment washes over me. I know that voice. The man behind it is why I’ve sworn off men. Again. It’s notmyfault his pencil dick didn’t make me want to stick around. His asshole complex definitely didn’t help either. Now it seems his ego is here to rear its ugly head. Delightful.
Pulling my hood off, I turn to face him, not at all surprised to find him lurking in the shadows with his two closest friends flanking him. Alone, he was needy, whiny, and a raging fucking pussy. With his friends? He’s just an asshole with an inflated sense of self-importance.
“Are we really going to do this, Wyatt?” I ask, bored as hell with the inconvenience, and he sneers at me.
His head tilts to the side as he steps toward me. The only light comes from the moon, but it’s enough to make out his features. Not that I need the illumination, I can envision him from memory, from the crook to his nose and the scar down his left cheek, to those thin lips that were so gross against mine.
“No one will care about another dead shadow. There’s no one to protect you and you can’t defend yourself. You’re. Nothing. Just like all of the others. Especially since you have no magic to even put up a fight, Void.”
I resist the eye roll threatening to take over my face. I’ve known this guy all through school. He lives on the next road over from my house. I’ve never been shy nor meek and I’m pretty sure when he was dick deep inside of me, he proclaimed my badassery was a turn-on. Now? Not so much, it seems.
The sting of the truth on his lips burns my veins, though. I don’t have powers. He’s right. Nothing manifested on my eighteenth birthday, not even a flicker of energy, which is why I’m here and not preparing to attend Shadowmoor Academy. There’s no use for me there, not when I have nothing to offer. I refuse to let him see how much his dig hurts, however. He doesn’t deserve it.
Unzipping my jacket, I drop it to the ground, my adrenaline keeping my arms warm against the wind whipping up around us. “Let’s get this over with. I’m tired,” I grumble before charging toward him. The grin on his lips quickly dissolves as I throw my shoulder into his stomach, knocking him backward as his friends laugh.
“Fucking stupid bitch,” he grunts before we tumble to the ground. His friends quickly rip me from his body and I’m relieved they’re using their bare hands. It means I haven’t thrown myself into the deep end against guys with highly-graded powers. Not that anyone in Shadowmoor has substantial gifts. It’s like our magic is as sullied as our lifestyle. Rotting in the pits of Hell taints our abilities.
Not in my case, obviously. This place took them away entirely. Just like it enjoys taking everything else away from me. It sucks everything from my body and soul without ever offering anything in return, and it won’t stop until we’re all drenched in the same darkness it consumes us with.
Each of them grabs an arm but I still kick my legs, smashing Wyatt in the face with my boot. I grin when he dramatically falls back again, his attempt to stand squashed beneath my heel before I turn my attention to the two goons he brought with him.
Gripping the guy on my left by the arm, I dig my nails deep into his flesh and pull him toward me, smashing my skull into his with a precision that I know will leave him worse off than me. His hold on me drops instantly, his groan like music to my ears as I turn my slightly-dazed attention to the final fucker.
Before I can consider my next move, he lets me go, cursing under his breath before he takes off running. I frown, trying to catch my breath, my chest heaving as I glance down at the fallen attackers at my feet then back to the one who got away.
I might chase him down any other night to put him in his place, but Wyatt’s jibe at my lack of power is causing more of a stir in my chest than I’d care to admit. I just want to go home and nurse my bruised ego.
Reaching for my jacket, I zip it up and hover over the fucker who thought attacking me would be a good idea. “What I lack in power, I make up for with strength because I refuse to be left vulnerable to motherfuckers like you,” I bite, ready to kick him while he’s down, but I think I’ve already proven my point.
“Void bitch,” he grunts, hand cupping his bloody nose. I kick that fucker where it hurts before offering him a two-finger salute and getting the fuck out of there.
Once I’m out of the forest and onto the road, I slow my pace but remain alert, avoiding the gazes of everyone I pass with my hood firmly back in place. Curiosity always gets the better of me, leaving me wondering if any of these people are Void too. Are they proud of what they can do if theyaregifted? Do they take pride in where they come from? Is their home complete, or broken like mine?
I don’t know what it’s like in the rest of the realm, but here in Shadowmoor, being a Void is more common than not. The second your magic doesn’t manifest on your eighteenth birthday, you become even more of an outcast than before. We’re already residents in the worst part of the realm, but to have no magic as well? It’s game over.
No magic means no entry into the academy, where you can at least try to better what the rest of your life looks like. Which means meddling in the fighting pits and salvaging some kind of income to survive is all I’m left with. I shouldn’t react so hard to being called a Void, but I can’t fucking help it. It’s still fresh, and all you can do in Shadowmoor is hope and dream that your magic will help set you on a better path. So, to have nothing to be thankful for but your every breath is soul destroying.
Every day is even more of a battle than before. I wish everyone wore a sign proclaiming what they are or what they can do. At least then I would know what I was up against the next time someone tried to attack me. It’s a common occurrence in Shadowmoor. I don’t think I’ve gone a week without someone swinging their fists at me since I turned thirteen. Even before then, it still happened. It was just less often.
It’s not how I remember my life before I came here, but it all feels so vague now that I can’t be sure. It’s just me and my will to survive. Along with Mama when she deigns to make an appearance.
Turning onto my road, fourth house down, I notice the front light isn’t on, which is a sure sign that Mama isn’t home yet. Disappointment twists inside me like it always does but I quickly squash it down and roll my neck, telling myself that I’m the independent badass bitch I pretend to be and her presence doesn’t make a difference.
We left our home together, standing in solidarity that I didn’t understand, but we have grown apart as the years have dwindled on. Yet she’s been my only constant for the longest time. Even if she’s never home, there’s always a roof over my head and food in the cupboards. It may be sparse some days, but it’s there all the same.
