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“Everything is strange to you.”
He looked me over.
You are even strange to you, his face said.
I held his gaze, waiting for his explanation. Maybe it wasn’t important to him, but he would never know what it felt like to be in a world you knew absolutely nothing about. If I was going to find the rest of the stones and restore the Light, I should at least be privy to the order of this place. Part of that order included why he of all people in these canyons, stood out so sorely. Beneath his snide façade, I think Kalen knew this, too.
“Everyone here is wearing the colors of their faction,” he grumbled.My neck jutted out in a silent urge for him to connect the dots. He didn’t.
“So that would mean you aren’t a part of the Light faction, then?” I coaxed.
“No, I am not. I was born in the Shadows.” A faint line appeared on his cheek. Like he might have been biting it. Was he nervous? Did he think I would reel in disgust? I wouldn’t. I had no reason to. Maybe the immortal Guardian to the Light would have, but I wasn’t her anymore.
“Well, if you were born there, isn’t your duty there as well? Why would you be trying to find the Light?” I asked.
“My home determines where my obligations lie, not where I was born. The Shadow faction has not been that for some time now.”
For a moment, Kalen’s expression was lost, solemn. Evenwithout recollection of where I was born, I understood his meaning of home. Or maybe it wasbecauseI could not remember my own, that the feeling came so easily to me.
“What made you leave to begin with?” I asked, wanting him to look at me again, but I knew he would not. Kalen lifted the enchantment and ushered me past him into a small foyer.
“That’s one more question than a few.”
Kalen pushed against twogreat oak doors with ease, opening them into a vast study. Bookcases lined the wall with thousands of volumes from ceiling to floor, broken only by an oval gallery that overlooked the large working desk and lounge. Dust wheeled through the air as light from the corridor spewed into the room. I wondered how long it had been since anyone had last entered.
Despite obvious neglect, the aesthetics were complete opulence. Intricate geometric patterns of silver and copper divided up the ash wood panels of the wall. An iron chandelier sat low over the center of the room, trussed up by a long chain that hung from the highest point in the open ceiling.The only tell of the room’s employment was a large turquoise accent rug that seemed too pristine and modern amid mostly primeval decor. It covered the entire floor, perfectly lined so that the Preserver’s crest sat gallantly in the pool of sun pouring in from the window on the southern wall. It felt as if you could jump right into its ocean-colored threads. The rest of the furnishings looked as if they could have been placed here an entire century ago or even millennia—no one would ever tell the difference. Sitting there at the threshold, I felt ridiculously small and patently new.
Without any announcement, out of a hallway rushed a small and fragile-looking soul. The Preceptor, I presumed, from the quick note Kalen had given me this morning about our task today.
“Kalen,” his voice reached us before he did, deep and crackling despite his size. A dark brown robe fell around his thin frame, his skin like ash peeking out of the slats in the warm fabric. “To what do I owe the honor at such a late hour?”
Was it so late already? I looked out the large window in front of us. The sky outside the far window was still that baby blue, like the shell of a robin’s egg, the clouds were stretched cotton above the canyon.It couldn’t be past the midday.
“It’s barely the afternoon,” said Kalen, confirming my suspicions, “and I scheduled this appointment with you a week ago.”
“Yes, that’s quite right. Excuse me. I do remember, of course. Is this her?” he asked. “Your friend?” The Preceptor looked me over in a way that suggested he was rather uncomfortable with the whole ordeal. I couldn’t say I blamed him. Kalen turned to me, ignoring the old man completely.
“The Preceptor,” Kalen said, “is an expert in our histories and cultures which are passed down to him orally, as is tradition.”
It was a speech of sorts and sounded thoroughly rehearsed. Kalen’s chest rose and fell in short bursts, and despite his effort to conceal it, I watched the twitch of his thumb against his middle finger, his hands clasped tightly at his sides. Nervous. Almost to the point of being unsettled.
“Although,” the Preceptor cut in, boasting, “I do possess a very detailed record.”
Pointing with long and crooked fingers he directed me to the west wall. Between two large iron rods were at least a hundred strings of golden twine, coiled tightly, twisted together, and branching off each other in all directions. The cords ran like veins down the wall, pulled taut from the ceiling down to the juncture where the wall met flooring. It shimmered even though no light was cast upon it from the window. Magnificent and completely enchanted. One could practically taste the magic thatsweetened the air around it.
“This is the Time Catcher,” he said, most illustrious. “A gift from the Sage of the Cosmos, Gabriel, to his sister on her crowning day.”
My blood iced over. Annoying and self-absorbed King of the Cosmos, my vision murmured. It had to have been true, then, what Kalen had said about my previous relationships. I had been very acquainted with the most powerful beings in the...well, everything. Close enough to have scolded them, even.
“With one pluck, any of these strings will show you the moment of Time they have captured. When played correctly, it sings the song of Creation,” The Preceptor continued.
Suddenly, a chill spread through my arm, so cold it began to burn. I jolted and looked down to see the Preceptor’s bony knuckles wrapped around my hand. He pulled me swiftly to the instrument, tugging my body toward the strings, pressing my palm into the metal harshly. Behind us, Kalen made a low sound of discontentment. From the age of the hand wrapped around mine, I doubted the old man heard it, much less was frightened by it.
“Try,” The Preceptor encouraged, looking into me with lifeless silver eyes. Secrets of time past bubbled beneath them, the color of iron festering on a metalsmith’s worktable. A worrisome thought occurred to me. What if seeing what lay within the vibrato of these strings would make steel out of me, too?
Shaking slightly, I picked the centermost string and pulled it gently. As it snapped back against the wall, one glorious note rang out through the room.Even though the sound was graceful and melodic, I began to drown in the Time Catcher’s music almost instantly. As it moved through me, I was blinded, my sight replaced with a starry void.
“In the beginning,” preached the Preceptor, “The Sages were born from the universe, each holding a portion of herknowledge.”
