Kalon Tryout Forms

[SilhouetteStation]

here I will be posting tryout forms for Kalons. I prefer to have them all in one place so I can keep track of them.

~please do not post here~

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[comps ongoing]


[comps ended]
• Jurassic
• Kit UFA
• Blossom Skies
• Sylvan Readopt
• andi readoption
• 1800

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[SilhouetteStation]

Username: SilhouetteStation

Earth name: Mercury
Homeworld name: Arame'kam Ha'lakuo
Gender: Nonbinary

The drums are pounding. Like the blood shuddering through my veins, the sound goes right through me. My ears can't detect if the drums are around me, chasing me, or within me. Like a heavy pulse coursing through the air, the sound is all I can hear.

The drums keep pounding, so I keep running.

Above me, the sky is black. Not like an Earth night, where the sky is dark but dotted with stars and the glow of the moon; there is no light in these skies. Blacker than black, like tar; overwhelming, and crushing. The darkness here felt as though it had the power to swallow you. As I run, I pray that it will.

I can hear them, running behind me, trying to catch up. Their slobbering, formless mouths releasing clouds of breath both hot and cold at the same time. They snap at my feet with sharp, invisible teeth, and each time they stumble something like ink bleeds into the ground. These shadows were manic, wild creatures, somehow darker than the sky but visible all the same; not able to be touched, but able to touch you. I should know. I was the one who summoned them.

Ahead, I see the wormhole that has just opened up. Spinning slowly in midair, wispy tendrils brushing against the air. It emits a dull light, bathed in a prism of colors, but it also emits something else; a flicker of hope. I run towards it, my feet pounding against the hard ground beneath my feet, the drums still pounding in and out of my body. I reach out my hand, but it's too late. One of the shadows has wrapped itself tightly around my ankle. I fall hard, the air in my chest forced from my body, and can only watch as the wormhole is obscured from my vision as the shadows devour me.

I awake.

The only pounding is that of my heart, beating frantically behind my ribcage, and the rain falling outside my window. That's the sound I focus on until my breathing returns to normal, and the tightness in my chest lessons. It's a dreary day, the sky gray and overcast. My room doesn't look much brighter. The dull white chipped walls don't help the situation, nor does the darker off-blue carpet. Oh well. It's home now. It's the home I deserve.

I get out of bed, and move to the window. Down below in the streets, people walk with umbrellas or huddle near storefronts. Cars are driving with their wipers and headlights on. For awhile I do nothing but stand there, staring, trying to forget what today is. In the end, I know I can't, and so I drag myself through the morning routine.

Showers are a nice invention, I'd decided early on. I'd been wary at first, because it reminded me of the burning rains we used to have when the weather turned bad. I thought this hot water would be the same. But it was cleansing, and healing. Standing under the shower head, water running over my head and down my back, I could almost imagine my worries dripping down the drain. Other people seemed to share the same opinion. I'd tried having a bath once, but it wasn't the same. Towels were also nice. They were a different kind of material than what I was used to using, but I'd become accustomed to the softer feeling by now. One of the things I still struggled with was clothing.

We didn't have clothing like this, where I came from. Material that was designed to cover you up like this, and make you feel uncomfortable if some parts didn't fit properly. I did like the way they looked though. It was just the wearing of, even after all this time, that I was still getting used to. Black jeans, dark gray shirt. I could deal with those, I supposed. Socks, quite frankly, were weird. I could understand shoes a little more. My most favorite piece of clothing, though, was a black leather jacket. It had taken me almost five years to get one of these. Not because I couldn't afford it, but because I didn't believe I deserved it. But then I'd thought, why not? I can't change anything, might as well do it anyway. And so I bought one.

Coffee was also something strange. Hot, dark bitter liquid designed to fill you with fake energy and keep you up at night, yet people drank it like it was water. That's what I drank now, cringing slightly at every mouthful. Yes, I knew you could add things to sweeten it, like milk and sugar. It was the same concept that, once again, I didn't deserve things like that. Besides, this bitterness was the perfect thing to set me up for today.

The nightmare had made me sleep in late. It was past midday when I left my apartment, locking the door behind me and slipping the keys into my pocket. Down the cold, dingy stairs, out the doors into the rainy world. I started my yearly walk, the same route every time, keeping my head down and avoiding eye contact with anyone who passed by. Many streets, many blocks, until I stood on the corner of a road and lifted my head to stare at the buildings across from me. My destination was not flashy, or colorful, or overly inviting. But in this mixed up other world, this Earth I was still coming to terms with, it was like my second home.

I remembered coming here for the first time like it was yesterday.

My body shook and trembled, spinning and distorting in this prism of light, this rainbow tunnel, until it spat me out and left me stunned. There was something cold and hard beneath me, which I hoped was the ground. I kept my eyes tightly closed, afraid to open them. No one had ever jumped into a wormhole before, because no one knew where you would end up, and no one was stupid enough to try. I suppose, in my desperation, it had made me the first.

A soft pattering sound surrounded me. Tentatively, I opened my eyes a crack. It was quite dark, but there was a light hovering far above me. I raised my head, and winced as a throbbing pain shot down the back of my neck and skull. The light was connected to a long silver pole, possibly made out of some sort of metal. It illuminated the space around it, casting a soft light over the ground where I lay and part of my legs. I realized what the pattering was when, in the light, I saw drops of water falling from the sky. Hurriedly I moved backwards into the shadows, a jolt of fear running through me, but it quickly passed when I realized my leg wasn't burning. I stared at the light, the drops falling down, and took in deep, slow breaths. Hesitantly I reached out, and felt the cool liquid against my hand. Cool, not hot. Not like the showers we were used to. Was this their rain? Was this was it was like here?

My hand dropped slowly.

Here...where exactly was here, exactly?

I stood up on shaky legs, and looked around. The sky was dark, but there were thousands of little glowing specks to break it up. A silver crescent hung up above, and my head tilted slightly. A moon, perhaps? Our three were roughly that size, but more rounded than this one, and didn't give off a lot of light. Even as a smaller shape, this one still glowed. Closer, large buildings rose up around paved pathways, and those pathways bordered larger, darker pathways. I idly wondered what they were for when a large metal beast prowled by, and I jumped back. It's two lights on the front seemed to guide it's way, and it had two spindly arms to keep the water away from its front transparent surface. My eyes widened when I saw people inside of it. Had they been swallowed up? Caught in the beasts belly? No, they seemed quite content. Perhaps they controlled the beast instead.

Across from where I stood on the corner, one large pathway away, was a shorter, more stout building. I could see light coming from out of its colored windows, and a bright neon sign above the door said OPEN. Thinking of nothing better to do, I tightened my cloak around me, and hurried forward in that direction.

Cautiously I opened the door, and peered inside. Lights hung from the ceiling, one of them flickering every so often. Wooden tables were spread out around the small space, as well as a flat green surface covered in small colored orbs. Odd. Perhaps those thin wooden sticks were for hitting them? That seemed even more odd. In a corner, a man slept at one of the tables, snoring.

“You alright there?”

I spun around towards the voice. A man stood behind a dark wooden bench, polishing a glass mug in his hands. Behind him, shelves rose up covered in colorful glass bottles. When I didn't answer, he nodded his head towards the rounded stools across from him. I glanced back outside to the dark, the rain, before turning back and walking over to him. Sitting down, I eyed him warily, looking for any signs of danger. He seemed quite old, with a scruffy gray beard and eyebrows to match. But his eyes were kind, and I took that as reassurance.

He eyed me right back, making no secret of it. His eyes seemed to linger on my legs, which I didn't understand. “You want a drink?” he asked. As he spoke, the pattering on the roof suddenly intensified, and I looked around in alarm. He just grumbled. “Blasted rain,” he muttered, and I relaxed. “No more customers tonight, I bet.”

“I like it,” I murmured without thinking. “It's not hot.” Turning back to him, I asked, “Is it always like that? Is it always cool?”
He didn't seem sure how to respond, but eventually he nodded. Without asking again he grabbed a glass and poured me something clear out of a tap and passed it to me. I sipped it; it was cool, like the rain outside, and tasted like nothing. Looking back, water had definitely been the safest option at that time. It also gave me a chance to see his own legs, which looked nothing like mine. That explained the staring. I shifted my cloak, trying to cover them more.

“You're not from around here, are you?” he asked, almost cautiously, as I took another sip.
“No.” An ache began forming in my chest. “No, I'm not.”
“Where are you from?”
I paused. “Far away,” I finally decided. “A long way from here.”
“How long are you here for?”
“I don't know. Maybe forever.”
He looked surprised. “Not thinking of going back?”
“I don't think I can.”
Outside, the sky rumbled.

I opened the door. The light didn't flicker anymore after the bulb had finally blown, but the quiet radio overhead had a little bit of static. A couple of guys were playing pool. Tom was waiting behind the bar, two shot glasses laid out in front of him like he'd been expecting me. He was looking older now, but he still had the same eyes. Without hesitation I sat on the stool across from him.

“Tom,” I greeted him.
“Mercury,” he said in return.
We each took a glass, and downed the shot in one. The clear, bitter liquid burned my throat as it went down. Sharing my first drink with him was tradition now.

“Ten years, huh?” he said as he poured me a second.
I downed it. “Yep.”
“You ever think about changing it up?”
“Just get me a pint, please,” I said wearily. He did as asked, but as I went to take the glass, he touched my hand for a moment. “Don't you think ten years is long enough?” he asked softly. I ignored him, swallowing a few mouthfuls. Beer was different from vodka; warmer, fuzzier. But neither of them would get me drunk like it did with other people. I'd tried every drink Tom had. My body just wasn't built to be susceptible to alcohol. He watched me with crossed arms and a concerned frown. That was the kind of man Tom was; a silent worrier, a man who thought a lot of things but didn't often voice them.

“You know, Mercury,” he began as I took another swig. “I do wonder if you'll ever tell me how you came to be here.”

I didn't answer. For a long time there had been a mutual unspoken agreement between us; I didn't tell him about my past, and he didn't ask. A few times he'd made a few comments like those, or hinted at wanting to know, but he never pushed it. I liked to think he respected that I didn't want to talk about it. Deep down, I think he knew that he didn't want to know the truth.

“To be honest,” he continued, “if you told me right now that you were from another world, I'd believe you.”

Again, I didn't answer. This was unlike Tom. I glanced towards the guys at the pool table, who seemed oblivious to our conversation. My eyes drifted back to the drink in front of me. Idly I ran my thumb up and down the glass, staring into the amber colored liquid.

“We had a drink this color,” I said quietly. “Thicker. Sweeter. Warmed you up on a cold day. It was made from a nectar. Hard to get though, because the flowers tried to bite.”

Tom let out a little breath through his nose. I took it as a form of subtle laughter. “Did they all try to bite?” he asked, and I shook my head. “No. No, not all of them. Anything found in the swamp would probably try and harm you, but closer to the towns, they got smaller and less dangerous. Szatkal's were my favorite. Little blue and white things. Glowed at night.”

A lump seemed to form in my throat, and for a long while, I couldn't speak. I finished the first beer, and Tom gave me a second. I drank this one with a little less enthusiasm than usual. Each year, it seemed that I consumed something close to my own body weight in alcohol, and although it didn't make me drunk, it helped to numb some of the emotions I felt. As time went on, a few more people came and went. Eventually the pool guys left. By evening, when the setting sun cast shadows through the stained glass windows onto the floor, Tom and I were alone.

I could feel his eyes searching me as I avoided his gaze, keeping my own firmly on the wooden bench. I studied the colors, the flecks of gold grain, the subtle brown twisting patterns. Eventually the silence between us became too much, and I asked, “What do you want to know?”

He seemed surprised I'd asked, and took a few moments to consider his question. “How and why,” he began cautiously, as though scared of blowing the opportunity, “did you come to be here?”

“That's two questions,” I said. “Pick one to start.”
I took a long drink while he thought again. “How,” he decided.
“I jumped through a wormhole.”
A clock ticked on the wall. Cars drove by outside. Time seemed to drag for a while. I sipped as I would have normally while I waited. When Tom found his words, all he could muster was, “Ah.”

I knew inside he was arguing with himself whether or not to keep asking questions. It wasn't everyday you found yourself on the tip of a conversation like this one. Well, not with someone sober, anyway. You didn't know what you would learn, or what you'd actually believe. Like standing on the edge of a cliff but you weren't too sure what was at the bottom, and debating whether to risk taking the plunge anyway. I supposed that's similar to what I had done, when I'd come to this world.

“Am I allowed to know this?” he suddenly asked, trying to mask his concern by keeping his voice light and casual. “I mean...”
“It doesn't matter if you know,” I said. “if you don't plan on telling anybody.”
The tone in my voice was clear. He sensed the threatening undertone, and he nodded as if to say, message received and understood.
“You know me,” he tried to joke. “I don't go spreading rumors around here.”
My mouth twitched up in a smile. I knew that very well. Many times I'd been made to listen to him rant about how people gossip too much and how things used to be simpler when people minded their own business.

His expression changed, and his voice grew serious again. “May I ask...why? Why you jumped through in the first place?”

I nudged my empty shot glass towards him. Without a word he filled it up, and a moment later it was empty again. “I did something bad,” I said.

“What did you do?”

Another shot went down.

“I think I killed someone.”

“You need to concentrate,” I snapped. “You're too excited, and with something as serious as this, you need to not be bouncing off the walls.”

They stopped fidgeting, but still shuffled from foot to foot, eager with anticipation.

“This is serious,” I hissed at them. “This isn't child's play, okay? This isn't kids stuff anymore, this is true Shadowmancer practices and if you don't do it right, you could get seriously hurt.”

“I can do it right,” they insisted. “You've seen how good I've gotten. I'm ready for harder tasks.”
“Moving puppets around is one thing, kid, but summoning is a whole different ball game. Don't get overconfident.”

They stopped bouncing. Some of the color seemed to drain from their face. “Summoning?” they repeated, as though to make sure that's what they heard. “You want me to summon a-”

“A Shahkima,” I finished. A Shadowbeast. “But only a small one,” I continued. “Nothing you can't handle, I'm sure. I was doing this at your age.”

Giving themselves a shake, they seemed to regain some of their earlier positivity. “Now who's being overconfident?” they teased, and I rolled my eyes.

Taking on an apprentice wasn't something I'd planned to do this early, but they had shown potential, and I decided it wouldn't hurt to start training someone. Being a Shadowmancer was no easy task; it took time, and patience, and a willpower stronger than the darkness you were trying to control.
They followed me down the stairs and, once the door behind us was closed, we would have been plunged into darkness if not for the candle I held. I liked moving by candlelight; the temperamental purple flame was so easily shifted with breath and movement, which sent our own shadows skittering around the walls.

“Now remember, you don't come down here otherwise, yes?” I asked, stopping down the bottom in front of another large door.

“Yes, Master,” they replied, staring at it apprehensively. They knew this was my domain down here; they may call me from the top of the stairs, but no more. This would be the first time they'd see where I really did my work.

I opened the door, and they peered around my shoulder to look inside. Their eyes shone, not just from curiosity, but the jars I had lining the shelves. Gemstones, fungi, extracted teeth and horns from creatures they never would have seen. All emitting a soft glow, all different colors. A shelf opposite housed many books, leatherbound and sturdy, and more books were piled on my desk. The middle of the room was bare; empty apart from a large circle drawn on the wooden floor.

“Wow,” they breathed, almost in awe.

“Just don't touch anything,” I said, taking a book from my desk and skimming through a few pages. A small rattling sound broke my concentration, but I didn't need to look up.
“Stop touching.”
“Sorry. I'm just – you know.”

I did know. Excited, nervous, eager, terrified; all at the same time. I'd been the same when I'd first started my apprenticeship, but that was long ago. I'd soon learnt that you needed a calm and level head to do these sorts of practices. This one would soon learn, once they realized even a little Shahkima could cause a lot of trouble.

I went through a few more pages, before stopping on one. “This one should do. Hand me that chalk over there.” They did as told, handing me the thin white stuck, and wiping some of the dusty residue on their cloak. Sighing inwardly, I began to draw symbols around the circle. They watched in interest as I continued around the circumference, making little marks here and there, referring back to the book when needed. The signs had started to pulse slightly. At the very last sign I paused.

“You remember what I told you to do?” I asked, and they nodded. Their expression had grown more serious the more I'd completed of the circle. “It will try and escape the moment it can. You must stay calm. You must stay in control. Once it realizes it can't overcome you, it will become more submissive. All you need to do is make it go back inside. Make it realize we are no threat, and it will go.”

They nodded tensely.

I, like many others, had heard horrific tales of Shadowmancer's not being able to control their own summons. Many seemed to think that we did this for fun, that we wanted to control them and make them our own weapons; our servants. But I despised any Shadowmancer that actually had that mindset. We were gifted with the ability to connect with these creatures, to be able to summon them to our aid in battle or times of need; trying to rule them just made them angry. And if an angry shadow overcame you, well...you wouldn't be able to try again.

“Are you ready?”
They took up a firm stance, arms raised slightly, palms open towards the circle.
“Ready.”

I drew the last sign. As I did so the others pulsed stronger for a moment, before the floor seemed to fall away within the circle. An inky blackness, darker than our sky, darker than nothing itself. For a few seconds nothing happened. That's odd, I thought to myself. Usually they're all bursting to get out. Then a clawed hand flung itself out from the hole and latched itself to the edge. Seeming both wispy and solid at the same time, like a shape you couldn't define, but could see all the same. The shadow rose up, its formless head swinging from side to side, taking in its surroundings without any eyes. It steadied itself, tensing before leaping out. With a jerk it stopped, hung in midair, scrambling around as it spun. My apprentice kept their hands steady as the creature hissed and screeched in foreign tongues, the sounds cold but unintelligible against our ears. They moved their hands slightly to the left; the shadow followed. To the right; followed again. Over the hole, and they waited for the shadow to stop writhing around. Eventually it began to calm, sensing it was in no danger. I was impressed. They were doing well.

“Now lower them back in,” I breathed, barely audible.

They glanced at me for half a second, giving a tiny nod, and then all of their concentration went back to the shadow. Slowly, slowly, they lowered their hands, and the shadow moved with them. It reached out its hands towards the hole, trying to reach the edge again as though it was going to pull itself back inside. I let out a tiny sigh of relief. Almost done.

Three things happened simultaneously.
A sudden rumble shook the ground beneath us.
The smaller shadow, which had been calm before, suddenly let out a wail of fear.
A clawed hand, big, dripping like steaming ink, reached out of the hole and smashed itself down, and the wailing was cut short.

For a moment, everything was silent.

Something like fear gripped my chest, but my mind remained steady; I'd been trained to deal with these situations. I'd been trained to take on larger, rogue Shadowbeasts.

But an apprentice?

I risked looking at them. Their hands were still up, but more in defense, and their body trembled with fear. The shadow swung its bulky head from side to side, trying to sense our movement and body heat. I willed them to keep still because I knew if I spoke, or they ran, we'd be in trouble.

I knew I needed to close the circle, but there was no way I could get close enough. Slowly, I raised my hands. My fingertips tingled at the beasts power. This one wouldn't go without a fight.

It felt my presence, felt me try and gain control. Its head snapped in my direction, and despite not having a proper mouth, let out an enraged roar. Black droplets flicked to the ground, but evaporated before they touched anything solid. It made a move towards me, but I pushed it back, and it let out a frustrated sound as it was pushed back towards the circle. I took a step forward; they were forced to move back. Inch by inch, I tried to ease them back inside.

Another roar vibrated through the wood beneath our feet, but this time the anger wasn't directed at me. I watched in horror as another hand began clawing its way up the first ones back, struggling to pull itself out. Another hazy head appeared, and then another; three large Shadowbeast's, trying to escape at once. Their only temporary downfall, however, was that they'd gotten themselves stuck for the moment. They growled and snapped at each other, all writhing to get themselves free.

The control left my hands in seconds.
Even I couldn't control three at once.

'Why is this happening?' I yelled to myself inwardly. 'Why are they so angry? Why are they so desperate to escape?'

The only thing I could think was that someone must have angered them. Some other Shadowmancer, overconfident or purely disrespectful, has mistreated them. And now they want their revenge.

My thoughts whirred, but I tried to keep my voice steady.
“We need to leave, okay?” I said. No point in trying to hide our voices now. “I want you to get behind me, and head for the stairs. The door has a charm on it, they won't be able to pass through.”

No response.

“Are you listening?”

It was clear they weren't. Their eyes were wide, brimming with fear, and their mouth hung slightly open as though they wanted to scream but no sound came out.

“Get behind me,” I said again, louder. Instead, they lifted their hands slightly, trying to take the same position they had before. I stared at them, and a burning sense of anger filled my stomach. “Don't be stupid!” I snapped. “You can't take them on, you're only an apprentice!”

“I can try,” they whimpered. “I can help. I'm strong enough.”

“Even I'm not strong enough!” I yelled, and they looked at me, a fresh wave of fear washing over their face. “We need to leave!” I said desperately. “Before they-”

My words were wasted.

One of the shadows finally heaved themselves free, which made room for the other two to do the same. I ran for the door, grabbing my apprentice's hand as I did so, and thankfully they began to move. A split second later, the shadows lunged.

Out the door, but before I could slam it shut to enact the sealing charm, a hand made its way through. A body pounded on the wood, stronger than I could hold, and so I ran. We bounded up the stairs, out of the top door, I could see a way outside, where we could call for help-

A scream split the air, blood curdling, terrified, a noise so horrific that it would be impossible to forget. I turned back, and watched as a Shadowbeast latched itself onto my apprentice. They crashed to the floor, shrieking, and within seconds was on them. My body froze with fear as they began to drag them down the stairs, but I forced myself to move, running to get back to them, but it was no use. The last I saw was the shadows consuming them, taking their body, forcing the air from their lungs and cutting their cries short. I heard them stop struggling.

Bile rose in my throat.
I wanted to scream, but I didn't.
I ran.

I knew it wouldn't be long before they'd finished here, and would begin to hunt me instead. I'd just made it out the door and outside when I collided with someone. I heard them make a noise, and it took me a few minutes for my brain to process they were talking to me.

“Woah, hey, what's going on?” they asked. “We heard screaming, and came to have a look...” Behind them, I saw a few more people huddling together, murmuring to each other and looking concerned.
My mouth opened, and at first nothing came out. “Shahkima,” I finally stuttered out. “Three of them, huge, they took-”
“Three of them?” they asked urgently. “How did they get here?”
“I...I summoned them. It was only supposed to be one,” I said desperately. “A small one, for my apprentice to practice with, but then these three came out of no where-”
“Where's your apprentice now?”

I didn't answer, just looked back towards the house. They followed my gaze, and I felt them stand up straighter. “The Shadowbeasts got them?” And then they turned on me, their eyes blazing. “You left them? Your own apprentice?”

“I didn't mean to!” I said, voice rising in pitch. “I tried to help them, but-”

“You of all people should know what Shahkima can do! How could you have let this happen?”

The door burst open. The three Shadowbeasts appeared, their heads searching through the air. The others stood still, not risking sudden movement. I didn't bother to wait, I knew they'd gotten my scent. I bolted, away from the people, away from my home, away from the mess I'd made. I could hear them bounding after me, hear their heavy, crackly breathing catching up behind me. I was running so fast it felt like I was flying; my feet hardly touched the ground. I wasn't even sure what direction I was heading in, I'd just wanted to get away. Deep down, even with the adrenaline coursing through my veins, I knew I could never go back.

I'd summoned them.
I'd allowed this tragedy to take place.
It was my fault.

Suddenly, ahead, a light; an odd swirling shape in the air, shimmering with an assortment of dull colors; floating a foot or two above the ground. A wormhole. They popped up now and then, and after a few experiments, it was determined that they transported whatever went inside; but no one knew to where, because no one had volunteered to go in, for fear they would never get home.

A felt the Shahkima get closer. Felt their burning cold breath against my legs.
I decided to be the first to try. I had nothing to lose.
I gathered myself together, and leaped.

I didn't know I'd closed my eyes until they reopened. I was in the bar, and Tom was still here, looking like he felt more than sorry for me. There was something wet on my face. I reached up to touch it; slightly sticky, like watered down tree sap. Our kind of crying.

Tom filled up a glass with something clear and handed it to me. I took a sip of the tasteless liquid. Water. Just like the first time we'd met. I finished half of the glass in silence, the only sound coming from the ticking clock. It was Tom who spoke first.

“But you didn't, though.”

I lifted my gaze to meet his.

“You didn't kill anyone,” he said firmly. “That was out of your control. There wasn't anything you could have done-”

“I could have hurried them up,” I said. “I could have chosen a different summon. Gotten out sooner. Not taken them down there at all. Not taken them on as an apprentice.” My voice broke, but I ignored it and carried on. “There are so many things I could have done to prevent what happened. And you don't know what it's like to think about the things you can't change. If I could go back, Tom, I would. If I could take back what happened, I would. Because every day of my life, I wake up filled with regret, knowing that I can't. I have never regretted anything more in my life.” My throat seemed to tighten, making it harder to force out words. “I'd give anything to change what happened.”

I'd thought about it so many times. So many nights spent awake, laying in bed and staring at the ceiling. Thinking about what could have been, but what could never be now.

My apprentice would be alive. I would still be in my homeworld, surrounded by things I knew, things I understood. I'd be a Shadowmancer again. I'd be able to help my people, and live a normal life. I'd be able to watch the Szatkal's bloom. I never would have jumped through that wormhole.

I felt a tiny twinge in my stomach, something that often happened when I tried to regret coming here. Because somehow, even after all that had happened, a part of me was okay with being here on Earth. I'd survived, the first person to leap through time and space, and I'd lived among this new culture for a decade. I'd been able to explore a new world, with new cultures and habitats, creatures and people alike. If not for the guilt that gnawed at me day and night, I think I truly would have enjoyed my time staying here.

The rain was cool here.
Their sky had stars.
And I'd met Tom who, despite literally being from a different planet than me, I had formed an odd sense of kinship with.

Even if I had the chance to go back, face the consequences of my actions, try to clear my name, I'm not sure I would. Firstly because they would accuse me of reckless behavior, and probably try and feed me to the Shahkima themselves. A life for a life, they'd say. Even if, by Tom's strong belief, it had just been an accident out of my control.

And if they did let me live, I'd be faced with even more guilt. I couldn't imagine walking past everyone, feeling their glares and hearing their harsh whispers. My apprentice's family, I would never want to face. I wouldn't be able to just slip back into a normal routine; if I had stayed, I think I might have even given up Shadowmancing for good. I'd be miserable, which part of me thought I deserved.

At least here, on Earth, I could be miserable with someone I liked to think of as a friend.

“Is your name really Mercury?” Tom suddenly asked, and I shook my head. “What is it then?”

“Arame'kam Ha'lakuo.”

He blinked. “How'd you come up with Mercury from that?”

“I didn't. You helped me, actually. Do you remember my first night here, and a song came on the radio, and I asked you what it was because I liked the tune? And you told me it was by Queen, and started telling me about the band?”

He let out a little chuckle. “Yes, yes, I remember that. Glad I helped you out a bit there.”

“I like Mercury better,” I said, draining the last of the water. “Sounds nicer.”

“I like it, too,” Tom said. “Much easier for me to pronounce.”

Despite my feeling sorry for myself, I couldn't help but smile a bit. He refilled my drink, and I held the cool glass between my hands for a moment. “Maybe you're right,” I murmured, half to myself. “Maybe things should start to change.”

He studied my face for a few seconds, before kneeling down and rummaging around some of the shelves under the bar. A couple of minutes later he popped back up, a waxy cylinder in one hand and a small piece of metal and plastic in the other.

“You know what these are?” he asked, and I nodded. “Candle and a lighter.” And then in a more teasing tone I added, “I do know some Earth things, Tom. I have lived here for quite awhile now.”

His mouth flicked up in a smile. “Of course, of course, I forgot how knowledgeable you are, the guy who doesn't understand socks.”

I pretended to ignore his comment.

“Anyway,” he continued, “I'm going to assume you've seen before how people light candles for the ones they've lost. Or even for people they didn't know.” He paused as I nodded to show I understood. “My family does something similar, only they like to say something before blowing out the candle. It's a nice thought to think the message will be carried by the smoke, and eventually the person you spoke to will hear it.”

I frowned, confused now. “But how-”

“It's nice to think about,” Tom repeated. “It brings some form of comfort.” He lit the wick, before pushing the candle closer to me. “Would you like to give it a try?” I shifted uncomfortably, which he noticed. “I'm not here to judge,” he reassured me. “Don't feel silly about it. Just...speak.”

I stared at the little flame, and the way it danced with each small breath we took. Yellow and orange, flickering and steady at the same time. Warm, glowing. A simple thing capable of many things. I remembered walking down my old stairs, candle in hand. Enough to chase the shadows away, and light the path ahead of me.

“I'm sorry,” I heard myself say. “I am so sorry for what I let happen to you. I am sorry for being a coward and running away. You know if I could bring you back, I would. Maybe one day I'll find a way. Maybe...you can see me from somewhere. See how I've changed. How I've had this time to think, and reflect, and regret, and apologize. Truly apologize. I hope...that maybe we can meet again someday. That I can tell you this in person. I even hope that you'd be able to forgive me. But...in case that never happens, I ask you now to forgive me. Forgive my mistake.”

I paused for a moment, glancing up at Tom. He gave me a tiny nod, as though to say I was doing a good job. My gaze returned to the candle.

“I'll come back and do this every year,” I said softly. “And I'll remember you with each day that passes. Maybe you can't make changes anymore, like you wanted to, but...maybe I can. Maybe I can change. Maybe I can try to be better.”

A small smile appeared on Tom's face, and surprisingly, I felt one on mine too.

I leaned forward and, with a weight lifted from my shoulders, blew out the candle.

[SilhouetteStation]

hope it's okay to post different entries on the same thread.

main post here

other kal used is my boy Athos

around 5000 words for this one, so I thought best to post here rather than the main post~

• • •

Username: SilhouetteStation
Kit Name: Ari
What is their Passion?:

"Every night I lie in bed, the brightest colors fill my head..."

A sudden thud awoke me from sleep.

For a moment I stared around my small room, taking in everything with bleary eyes. The dark wooden beams. A tiny desk tucked in a corner, with a thick pair of leather gloves laying on top. I knew my parchment and paints were tucked away safely under my bed.

I listened hard; no sign of movement. I couldn't hear the forge being fired up, which meant he was still asleep.

Another thud; I turned towards my window. A boy my age stood outside, peering eagerly inside, golden hair flopping over his forehead. Of course it was Athos.

I climbed out of bed, shivering slightly as my body adjusted to the cooler temperature, and unlatched the window.

"It's about time, lazybones!" he said, and I shushed him. "Be quiet, he's still asleep!" I hissed.

"Well then let's go," he whispered. "Sun's hardly up, we'll be back well before he wakes up."

I glanced towards my door, then back at Athos. He wiggled his eyebrows playfully, and I rolled my eyes before picking up my pouch from the floor. He stood back as I climbed up, over my windowsill, and out the other side. The dew on the grass felt cool on my bare feet as we ran, trying to muffle our giggling, away from the town.

We always went over the hills and down to the meadow on days like these, when the breeze was sweet and there was hardly a cloud in the pale sky. Out in the grassy wild, we could let ourselves go a bit; Athos could practice wild and made-up sword techniques with me, and I could try and collect berries to turn into paint. More than that, we could be ourselves in each other's company. I always felt a twinge of sadness that this benefited me more than him.

Athos was training to be a knight, so of course he could properly wield a sword. He even had his own blade, a long dagger made from actual sun steel. He'd been so overjoyed when it had been given to him.

And I...well, I wasn't sure what I was. I didn't know my real family. The blacksmith had taken me in as a baby. I'd been left by the forge fire one night, I guess to keep me warm until I was found. Times had been hard back then, and no one else had wanted to take me. So he kept me, raised me to be his apprentice. But he and I both knew that I was not made for his kind of work.

We stopped when we were in the meadow. I glanced up at where the sun sat in the sky; we had maybe an hour to mess around before the townsfolk began to wake up. I was glad I had these times, just to have a break from home.

Athos found two sticks, and we parried them back and forth. He showed me the moves he'd been taught, teaching me a few tricks and techniques. He was so graceful in the way that he moved, dancing around me with the wooden sword; I kept getting distracted, and would giggle when he poked me in the stomach.

"I'm rubbish at this lark," I said cheerfully. He scowled playfully, and then glanced up. "We should head back soon. You wanna get some more supplies first?"

"Yes please."

Together we foraged around, looking for different kinds of berries and pieces of clay. I had no means of purchasing real paint - and goodness knows I probably wouldn't be allowed - so I made do with what I could find. I was glad that Athos was always eager to help me.

I tucked everything back into my pouch, and then we ran back towards town. We moved faster this time, and split off after a quick hug to go our separate ways. I was silent as I climbed back into my room, trying to steady my breathing. Quickly I shoved the pouch under my bed and wiped my feet with a scrap of material I kept for times like these. I'd just finished tucking it away, letting out a sigh of relief, when a heavy fist pounded on my door.

Without waiting for a response my door opened, and he stood there. The blacksmith. Not a father, or caregiver, or guardian; I'd never really known how to think of him.

He was a big man, with large arms from working the forge, but with deft fingers for molding metal. His eyes were dark, as was his hair, which grew atop his head and down his face in a scruffy beard. He always seemed to have a serious expression, and I wasn't sure I'd ever seen him smile.

"Good morning, sir," I said.

He grunted, which I took as a 'good morning to you too'. "You been out?" he questioned, voice deep and gravelly.

"Of course not, sir," I said in mock surprise. "I've only just gotten up."

He grunted again. I wasn't sure he believed me. "Alright then. Make us breakfast, will ya? I've got better stuff to worry about."

I was happy to go along with this, mainly because I believed I cooked better than him. Burnt porridge wasn't exactly the nicest way to start your day. But more than that, it meant he would be drawing up plans while we ate, and I was always silently excited to see those.

Once we were sitting down eating, he didn't speak, which was fine by me. His brows were furrowed in concentration, staring intently at the pages in front of him. I stole glances while I ate. A new axe design it looked like, and maybe some other contraption he'd been commissioned to create; it certainly looked like a work in progress. I'd taken a piece of parchment and pencil when I was younger to draw on, and he'd been furious. I just didn't see how it was fair that he could use them and I couldn't.

But I knew why he wouldn't let me.

He didn't want me to create art.

"What are you staring at?" His voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

"Nothing," I replied, turning away. "Just wondering what we're doing today."

"Same as always. No need for wondering."

Once I'd cleared the table, we headed to the forge. It faced outwards towards the street, so that passerbys could watch us work if they so wished. Often they didn't, because they knew the blacksmith could be quite the grump. People usually only approached if they needed something done.

My position of apprentice didn't entitle much. I passed him the tools he required. I helped him carry bits and pieces of metal. I pumped air into the embers to make them flare up. I was allowed to melt ore into ingots, but could only watch as he melted those into molds to create weapons, hinges, whatever was needed.

I watched now as he used his iron tongs to remove a sword from it's mold, plunging it into a bucket of water with a loud hiss. I watched the steam rise, admiring the way it looked.

He cleared his throat loudly. I looked back at him, then at the sword in his hands. "Pay attention," he ordered. "You'll be making these at some point."

I knew that's what he wanted, but it made my stomach twist. He and I both knew perfectly well that this wasn't what I wanted. But did I owe it to him, to dedicate myself to his craft, because he raised me when no one else could?

I didn't know. But he seemed to think so.

The day dragged, but finally when the sun began to dip in the sky, he dismissed me from the forge. I had a few precious moments now, alone, when he wouldn't bother me while he tidied things out there. I took a cup of water back to my room, and shut the door. Even closed, I'd hear him come back.

I sat on the floor, pulling out things from under my bed. My pouch, a sneakily taken piece of parchment, a few clay bowls. The clay was deposited into one of these and, once water was added, crushed into a thin paste. Raspberries into another, and then a few of those and blueberries into another to make a kind of purple. For a moment I sat back, chewing idly on the end of my only paintbrush that Athos had managed to find for me.

I looked towards my window. Outside, the sun was still setting; a glowing orb, setting the sky alight in a flame of rich orange and red. A warm tingling sensation filled my stomach, and I got to work.

With the supplies I had, I knew I could only do so much. I thinned out the red to try and make lighter shades to mix with the dark, dabbing at a few places with a cloth to try and give the illusion of clouds. I left a space at the bottom for curving purple hills. I'd learnt before that you do the palest ones at the back, making them darker as you moved forward, not the other way around. It created a sense of distance, which I liked.

I'd learnt to make these quickly, for fear of being discovered. Once completed I couldn't even leave it out to dry, it just had to dry under my bed. Away went the bowls, my brush after being washed. My hands were cleaned thoroughly, floor inspected for any signs of paint. There was no way I ever wanted him to find out.

• • •

It rained over the next few days, so Athos didn't come calling. We still saw each other when we'd both been let off work for the evening, but there were no early morning adventures, and certainly no romps to the meadow. That was fine, I had enough painting supplies, and the constant drizzle would help to make more.

I almost liked being in the forge during times like these, when the fire would help to keep us warm. I worked just that little bit harder when it rained, and the blacksmith knew that, but we both knew it was better to keep moving than stand still. Cold and stiff hands were no good for tending a forge.

He let me off early that afternoon, mainly because everyone had enough common sense to be staying indoors and not dropping by. He also needed to go and pick up some supplies, which meant I would have the place to myself. I always worried about painting on rainy days, in case I didn't hear him moving around, but I would definitely hear the door open and shut.

I stared out of my window again; grey. Raindrops snaked down the glass. The soft pattering was almost soothing, and helped to create a mood. I decided to try and mimic the raindrops.

Using leftover blueberry mix, I made a thick line at the top of the page and then wet the end of my brush, dabbing it on top. I lifted the page; droplets formed and began to roll down, just as I'd wanted. I did this a few more times, trying to get a definite 'rainy window' look. When I was happy I let it dry for a few minutes, before using darker lines again to divide the page into four and make the outline of a window frame.

I studied my work, a smile twitching at the corners of my mouth. Maybe it wasn't the best piece in the world, but I was proud of it. Maybe I wasn't the best artist in the world, but that didn't really matter, did it? It made me feel happy; warm inside, even on a day like today.

For a moment, that warmth flickered into something more hot; anger.

Because why should I have to hide this? Why shouldn't I be allowed to pursue a future I would actually be happy in? What was so wrong with what I was doing?

The door opened and shut. I scrambled to shove everything back under my bed as neat as I could, heart skipping a beat, but he didn't come to my room.

"You still in, boy?" He called.

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Make us some dinner then."

I let out a silent sigh. "Yes, sir."

• • •

When the rain cleared up, Athos and I began going to the meadow again. The weather, although making some parts a bit muddy, had helped the berries to grow. And while I managed to avoid those boggy areas, it was by my own fault that I almost slipped up.

It was always a bit risky, going there when the sky was still overcast, but I'd wanted to go so desperately I was convinced we'd be fine with time. But as a few clouds drifted away, and we saw where the sun was, we had to bolt to try and make it back.

I'd only just scrambled back through my window when he opened my door without warning. He looked me up and down; out of breath, pouch slung over my shoulder, a few tiny splatters of mud on my legs. It was beyond obvious I'd been out.

"I was with Athos," I said before he could ask. "Berry picking. There's a few just outside of town, and we thought the rain would have helped more grow, so..."

His eyes narrowed more, and just for show, I pulled a few blackberries out of my pouch. He snatched them from my hand and inspected them, as though he thought they might be fake.

"Eat them if you want," I said, with a slight challenge in my voice.

He walked out without a word. In fact, he didn't speak to me for the rest of the day, which was surprising. I'd expected a lecture, a rant, some sort of reaction. Not just stony silence. That wasn't usually his thing.

Hours later, when we were sitting down for dinner and I'd almost thought he'd forgotten this morning, he decided it was time to ruin the evening.

"Might tell that mentor of his to keep that kid away from you."

I paused, spoon halfway up to my mouth. "What?"

"Don't need him distracting you. Leading you astray." He wiped his mouth roughly with his sleeve. I glanced at the unused rag sitting on the table next to him. I didn't know why I bothered. But right now, I was much more concerned with what he'd just said.

"What?" I said again.

"Don't make me repeat myself," he growled. "Stay away from him. He's doing you no favors, making you run around at the crack of dawn, sneaking around and-"

"We're not sneaking!" I exclaimed. "And he's not making me do anything, I wanted to-"

"Don't interrupt me!" He roared, making me fall silent. "You've got to focus on more important things. Think about the forge, the business. You've still got a lot to learn before you become a blacksmith."

"But Athos is my friend!"

"Not anymore," he said, in a tone that indicated the conversation was over. This was what he always did, shut me down, didn't let me get my way. Anger bubbled inside of me. Not this time.

"You can't just decide that!" I shouted, and I think we were both surprised at how loud my voice sounded. "I don't care what you say! Athos is my friend! All you care about is your stupid forge, keeping it going, making money, you don't care about me!"

"How dare you!" He spat, eyes blazing. "I'm the one who took you in when no one else would-"

"And you've been hanging that over my head since you did it!" I yelled back. "I didn't ask to be abandoned! I didn't ask for you to raise me! You can't keep guilt tripping me with something that wasn't my fault!"

He opened his mouth to argue, but I couldn't stop. You couldn't stop a storm once it had started.

"You have never, not once, actually cared about me! Did you want to raise me as a servant? As some poor apprentice who didn't have a choice? Because that's not okay! I'm not okay with that! My future is mine to decide, and I won't let some miserable old blacksmith decide it for me!"

His chair made a horrible scraping as he stood back from the table to loom over me. "You better watch your tongue, boy, or-"

"Or what?" I snarled, standing up as well. My head only just reached his shoulder, but I wouldn't stay sitting this time. "You'll threaten me? Make me do more stuff I don't want to do? You can't make me do anything! I hate being here, I hate the forge, and I hate you!"

I stormed out, slamming the door as hard as I could, and ran out into the night.

• • •

"It's just horrible!" I cried. "I just can't handle it anymore, I don't want to live with him, I..."

My throat seemed to close up again. It was aching from my earlier sobbing, which had subsided not long ago, but I still had to keep wiping tears off my face.

"I know, I know," Athos murmured, his hand still rubbing up and down my back. It was probably tired by now, but I didn't want him to stop. This kind of touch had always comforted me.

I'd been here with him for awhile now, sitting on his bed side by side. I'm not sure I'd said everything I wanted to, but he knew it was difficult for me. All these years of the blacksmith shutting me down, not letting me express myself, it was hard for me to try and articulate how I was feeling. Maybe that's why I turned to art; you didn't need words to tell a story.

"I feel like - like I can't be me. And that's not nice, I don't like feeling like that. I don't want him deciding things for me, I don't want him saying I can't be your friend, and that I have to be like him when I don't...I don't want that."

He didn't answer for a second, instead reaching past me to pull a piece of parchment he'd stuck to his wall. "You remember this?"

I looked at it, and then at him with a teary smile.

The first painting I'd ever done.

"I don't know why you keep it," I mumbled, smiling all the same as I sniffed and wiped my eyes again. "It's not that good."

At least, it was the first proper painting I'd tried to do. All of it had been done with clay, watered down to different strengths, to show Athos holding up a sword with a big grin on his face.

"Of course I kept it," he said, trying to make his voice cheerful. "You were so proud when you gave this to me, and I was too, because it's a little masterpiece. Obviously, because it's me."

Despite myself, I giggled.

"But you wanna know why else I kept it? Because I saw how much it made you happy. Genuinely happy, not like how you look at the forge all the time. Maybe..." He hesitated. "Maybe that's what he needs to see? Maybe if he realized how much you love to do this, he wouldn't be…" he trailed off, trying to find the words.

"Such a pig?" I suggested.

"Hard on you," he corrected.

I thought about it. I remembered how he'd gone off at me when I'd used that first bit of parchment. How he hadn't even wanted me to pick up a pencil after that. How he pushed me so hard to work in the forge, telling me to get on with it, making me feel like I didn't have a choice. How he'd never asked if it made me happy, if I wanted to do this. Constantly reminding me, even when I was young, that I owed him a service for him taking me in; making it seem like I was just a burden.

But maybe Athos could be right. Maybe if he saw what I could make, how it made me feel…could he support that? Would he support me?

Because it wasn't just a hobby, it was a passion I couldn't describe to someone who's never experienced it. It was a tingling in my fingertips, an urge to hold a paintbrush in my hand and sweep it across the page. The desire to create, to bring something new into this world that could make people smile, like it did with Athos. I could express myself through art in a way that wasn't easily done with words.

The thought suddenly hit me that perhaps this was the way the blacksmith felt about his forge. And if it was, surely he could understand?

"Okay," I said aloud. "I'll talk to him."

He didn't say anything, but reached out to take my hand in his own to give it a comforting squeeze.

• • •

I hadn't been so keen in the morning, but Athos had kept a firm grip on my wrist as he led me back to the forge. I could see smoke drifting up, so he was working. That was good. He usually worked out anger by hammering steel.

He had his back to us, and Athos hung back as I approached, giving me an encouraging smile. The blacksmith didn't even seem to notice me, just kept banging down the hammer. I'd moved almost right around to face him, and still he ignored me.

Part of me wanted to bolt, but I tried to be brave. I squared my shoulders, stood up taller, and cleared my throat.

The hammer fell with a harsh clang, and his eyes met mine with a cold fire I hadn't seen before. A chill ran down my spine.

Then his eyes returned to his work, and by that look alone I almost felt shaky. But I was here now, so at the very least, I should try.

"Listen, I uh…wanted to talk to you."

"You here to apologize?" He asked gruffly.

"Well, um…no. I'm-"

"Then how dare-" I was suddenly grabbed and shoved up against the wall behind me- "you show your face here again?"

Flecks of spit had formed at the edges of his mouth, and there was a wild look in his eyes that made me feel something I hadn't felt around him before - fear.

"You disrespect me in my own home after I take you in, feed you, clothe you, teach you my life's work, and you dare speak to me like that? You stupid little child, it's no wonder you were dumped."

Tears welled in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. My bottom lip was trembling, as was my voice when I spoke. "I came here to explain-"

"Explain what? How rude you are? How disrespectful? How much of a brat you are to me after I take care of you for all these years, you ungrateful little-"

"Stop it!" The tears were falling now, and I was yelling, but I didn't stop. "Why do you have to be so horrible? You always go on about taking me in, and that I should be thankful, but how I can I be when you've never cared about me? Never tried to love me? And the one thing I do love, you won't let me do!"

A few people had heard the commotion, and stopped to watch. Athos had taken a few uncertain steps forward, like he wanted to help but didn't know how.

"We don't always get what we want, boy," he said, spitting the last word like it was something vile. For a moment I wondered what his childhood was like, because he's never spoken of it. But in the same moment I'm not sure I care, because I know if I ever had a child of my own, I would do everything to make theirs wonderful.

"And you don't need to worry about that little secret anymore," he continued, voice low and menacing. There was an awful gleam in his eyes. "I've taken care of it. That'll teach you to cross me."

For a moment I didn't understand, and then a cold realization began creeping through my veins, turning my blood to ice. Something in my chest was beating frantically against my ribcage.

Without thinking I threw my body weight away from him, trying to wrench myself free, but in doing so I took him by surprise. I was free from his grasp, but now I was stumbling into air. I could feel myself tripping, falling, and on instinct to break the fall I threw out my hands-

right into the fire of the forge.

Embers burnt themselves into my palms. My fingers looked as though they were on fire. Sparks flew up into my face, my eyes, my nose. A horribly bitter taste entered my mouth as I could smell them burning.

My hands. My hands were burning.

I could feel the pain, but my body wouldn't react, wouldn't move. I think I screamed, but I wasn't sure. It took Athos to run over and pull me away for my senses to start returning.

Those people had rushed over, as well as others, and I could hear a lot of talking. I heard the sound of Athos' swordmaster, arguing with the blacksmith. Athos himself was talking to me, asking if I was okay, but I couldn't think how to answer.

Suddenly the blacksmiths words surfaced themselves in my mind. "I've taken care of it."

I ripped myself away from Athos and scrambled to my feet. Opened the door. Into the house. Flung open my bedroom door.

For a moment everything looked normal.

And then I was on my knees, ignoring the pain in my hands as I reached underneath, desperately searching for something other than dust and air.

My parchment. My paint. My pouch. Any piece of art I'd hidden under there.

Gone.

The floor fell from beneath me, and in that moment, I think I was gone too.

• • •

"You're staring again."

"What?"

His voice was gentle as he repeated what he said. "You're staring at them again." He then nodded down to my hands, which were resting in my lap.

"Oh."

I'd been doing that a lot, just staring at them. Like if I looked at the bandages long enough, they'd fall away to reveal a pair of perfectly healed hands.

But they don't. They stay bandaged. The only time I've seen them is when the bandages are changed, and even then, they're not the prettiest sight. Red and blistered. There'll be scarring, we know that, but if I let them heal properly there hopefully won't be too much.

It's been a few weeks since they were hurt. I'd been living with Athos. He tried to let me have his bed, but I insisted I'd be fine with the floor. The mattress is a little thin, but I'm still warm with enough blankets.

My hands are warm. I realized this is because Athos had moved to sit across from me, taking mine very gently in his own.

"They'll paint again," he said softly. "You'll paint again.

He's right. I know he's right. Logically, there's no reason my hands won't make a full recovery. But I think there's a small part of me that's scared, because art is the reason I found myself in this situation.

No, I firmly told myself again. This is not your fault. It's his.

I hadn't talked to the blacksmith since, and he didn't seem eager to patch things up. Even others had tended to avoid him unless necessary. His anger towards my painting remained a mystery, but not one I needed to solve anytime soon. I just knew I wasn't going back there, and that was fine by me.

Since then, my desire to make art had taken a knock. What had been a strong, burning passion to paint was now a cautious, tentative flame, flickering at times, but still burning. Sometimes I'd see the painting Athos kept and the fire would be refueled. If this experience had taught me anything, it was that even the strongest storm couldn't put out this flame.

Athos kept telling me what I could do when I was healed. Design murals and tapestries, paint views of the town, give people a view of the sunrise in their own home. Paint the beauty I saw in the world, and share it with the townsfolk.

The more suggestions he made, the more I felt the desire returning. Slowly but surely, trickling back into my body as my hands healed. I imagined that the moment these bandages came off for good, my hands would be ready to create.

He squeezed one of my hands, interrupting my thoughts. I looked at him, and he gave me an encouraging smile. I gave a small one in return.

"Yeah," I said quietly. "Yeah, I'll paint again."

We sat there in silence for a long while, looking out of his window. The sun was starting to dip behind the clouds, but this sunset was a gentle one. The sky was all pink and peach, with patches of soft gray clouds illuminated by a few stray yellow sunbeams. On the horizon I saw two birds flying free, wings spread as they rode the breeze.

And then suddenly in that moment, I knew overwhelmingly that everything was going to be okay. That things would start getting better from now on, that I'd be better. Maybe I couldn't paint this scene yet, and maybe I couldn't paint the birds yet, but I would. One day soon, I would.

And that was everything and more to look forward to.

[SilhouetteStation]

original page

Username: SilhouetteStation
Name: Paiea*
Gender: nonbinary/somewhat genderless, presents self as female, would accept she/they pronouns

*the name itself is not mentioned in this story; in my au, characters like her 'discover' a name when they're older


• • •

Warmth. A gentle touch, like a caress from the breeze. Spots of light dancing into focus behind my closed eyelids. The sensation of my body, and the soft ground that lay beneath. A sense that I was waking up from a sleep that I had no memory of ever falling into. The almost startling feeling of suddenly existing.

What lay outside of this moment? Because I surely felt on the edge of something, like once I opened my eyes I wouldn't be able to close them like this anymore.

I opened them anyway.

Blue. Lots of blue. Light fluffy clouds lazily drifting along at a slow pace, dappling the sky in pale grays and whites. The sky. I turned my head slowly, following the blue as it faded to a lighter shade.

Then there was a wall, made of pale stone bricks. It looked old but sturdy, like it had been built to last a lifetime. Parts of the wall were obscured by plant growth; vines, ivy, and and moss. Grass grew thickly at the bottom of the wall, moving outwards and carpeting the ground which I lay upon. Wildflowers grew here and there, refreshing pops of color against the green.

My head kept turning to the side, until my cheek lay pressed against the grass. It tickled my cheek, but it was a pleasant feeling. More flowers grew just below my head, as well as a surprising splash of blue.

It took a few moments of staring to realize it was me.

I look like the sky, I thought to myself. I look like the flowers.

Slowly, tentatively, I sat up. My hands felt the ground beneath them as I pushed myself upright. I dug them in deeper, almost kneading the grass. It sent tingles up my arms. There were my legs, right where they should be. I gave my toes an experimental wiggle. Yep, everything seemed to be in working order.

I pushed myself off the ground, stumbling slightly as I stood upright. My legs wobbled a bit, but I waited until they steadied. I turned around in a slow circle, taking in my surroundings. To my left and right, the wall. Behind me, the wall. Ahead of me, a long pathway, bordered by the wall. I had no choice but to move forward.

The grass was soft and springy beneath my feet. A light breeze gently shifted my hair, tumbling around my shoulders. Sunlight shone down, soft and warm. I couldn't help but let out a soft sigh. It was beautiful here, truly it was. Everything felt so calm and serene.

Different pathways branched off from the first path I followed, and I followed a few of them. Some split off into more paths. Some opened up into larger areas. I found a tree in one, a pond in another. But everything was still bordered in by the wall. Some parts of that were crumbling in places, some like they'd been knocked down, with bricks scattered across the grass. But some parts stood strong and sturdy, like they were proud of the place they resided. Everywhere plant life grew, over the ground and the wall itself; nature had overrun this place, but I think it was supposed to.

It didn't take long before I couldn't remember how to get back, but despite being lost, it didn't make me worry. I felt strangely at home in this place.

Home.

Was this my home?

I touched my hand to wall. The brick felt hard beneath my fingers, but warm as well. My walking slowed, fingers trailing over the wall as I plodded forward. I felt air as the wall ended in another gap, and my hand fell back to my side.

This area was larger than the others. It was still boxed in by the wall, but somehow felt more open than other places had. A willow tree stood near the centre, branches low enough that the leaves brushed the ground. Nearby that was a large pond. Something strained inside of me, tugging me forwards. Without even realizing I was moving, I made my way over to it.

The ground sloped gently down to meet the waters edge, and reeds lined the sides of the pond. Crouching down, I leaned over, and stared at my reflection for the first time.

Two eyes; one a bright cerulean blue, the other a greenish teal. My hair was blue like the water reflecting the sky; fur like the sky itself, with soft patches of white like the clouds. Pink flowers blossomed from my body. I pushed back a strand of my hair, tucking it behind my ear. My reflection did the same. Just for good measure, I scrunched up my face and poked out my tongue. The mirrored face did the same, and without thinking about it, I burst into giggles.

Okay, so I'd established that this was what I looked like. That was fine. But what about the rest of me? Who actually was I?

Laughter subsiding, I lifted my head to gaze around me. The sky, the wall, the grass, the ground. The tree. The flowers. Leaning back over the water, my reflection stared back again, now with a thoughtful expression.

"Where are we?" I said aloud. "What are we doing here?"

A light breeze ruffled my hair, but in regards to my questions, it gave no answers.

--

Time didn't seem to have a place here. There was a sense of it moving, sluggishly ticking on, but nothing really seemed to change. I knew time did exist, because I'd watched the sun rise and set, and when I explored, I woke up in the places I'd fallen asleep. But besides that, everything just sort of...existed.

The flowers did not wilt, the grass did not yellow, and the water levels in ponds didn't change. If it wasn't for the roaming sun and moon, I'd think this place was frozen. Everything here felt different. The atmosphere felt special. And that seemed odd to me, that I could distinguish that, because it was the only place I'd known.

I'd not thought about it too much at first. I'd been overwhelmed in this strange and beautiful place, but also overwhelmingly curious. I spent days, weeks maybe, roaming the maze. That's what it was, I'd discovered. A sprawling maze that seemed to go on forever. The walls no longer felt like a restriction, but rather, a guide. They told me where to go, and where I'd been. I loved feeling the cool brick beneath my fingers. I loved the vines climbing up, the ivy spreading, the splashes of color from wildflowers. There were many different flowers here, more than I could count. Ponds, too. Full of the clearest, most refreshing water, and they always seemed to reflect the clouds. Like you could fall through and end up in the sky.

Oh, and the sky.
What a beautiful sky it was.

The sunrises were beautiful. Golden rays of light breaking over the maze walls, creeping over the ground, warming the petals and making the flowers bloom. Cream, pale blue, shot through with streaks of pale pink.

Perhaps my favorite time, the day. Nature is awake, and I look like the nature. The sky is blue, and I look like the sky. The clouds. I look like I fit in.

The sunsets, when the sun sinks back down behind the wall, setting the sky alight in a blaze of orange and red. The subtle fade to peach, to lavender, to smoky blue.

Night, when the sky is dark and dotted with thousands of glittering stars. Many times I'd found what I thought to be constellations, glowing brighter than the rest. No clouds, nothing to disturb the view.

It was night time now. I was laying on my back, arms folded up behind my head, staring up at the infinite dark sky. The moon glowed full, highlighting everything in soft silver. Often I returned to this part of the maze, with the large pond and the willow tree.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" I said aloud. A light breeze ruffled the tree; it sounded as though the branches were talking back in soft murmurs.

"And so big," I continued. "There's just so..." I waved a hand in the air. "Much of it. It's everywhere, always. Just like you." I gave the ground an affectionate pat. "You're everywhere, too."

I wasn't sure if it was loneliness that had driven me to talk to the ground. And the grass. The trees, the flowers, the walls. Something here made me feel safe, like I knew this place, but couldn't remember why. I felt a kind of...kinship, almost, with the nature here. I felt like everything was alive. That we shared the same space, the same air. A connection of sorts.

Maybe I was imagining it, and being stuck in this maze was making my mind wander. But that was the thing; I didn't feel stuck here. I felt at home.

It was safe to say I didn't feel alone here, not with these feelings all around me. But...hmm. Maybe I did feel lonely.

I felt a dull ache in my chest; a feeling I hadn't experienced before, but one that seemed to fit my thoughts.

This place was lovely, there was no denying that. "But maybe it'd be nice to share it with someone," I whispered aloud, before rolling onto my side and closing my eyes. Another soft breeze rustled the willow tree, caressing my cheek as it did so. A feeling of warmth cascaded over me, and I fell into sleep.

--

The sensation of something tickling my hand drew me out of sleep. I half opened my eyes, staring blearily at the small black and yellow blob crawling around on my fingers. Blinking a few times, my vision cleared, and I realized I was looking at a bumblebee. I lay still, watching it in interest, until it fluttered its little wings and hummed away.

That was a nice thing to hear. I'd been so used to the breeze and my own footsteps, it made a pleasant change.

A sweet, musical sound suddenly filled the air, and I sat up abruptly to stare up into the branches of the willow tree. A bird sat higher up, bluish-green and cream feathers shining in the morning sun as it sang out a tune.

Birdsong. I'm hearing birdsong.

Something close to delight and verging on overjoyed flowed through me, warming my bones, making my skin tingle. I listened, hardly daring to breath in case it flew away, as it carried on singing like it hadn't a care in the world. But once it finished its beautiful song, I couldn't help but let out a sigh.

"That was lovely," I said aloud, and the bird peered down at me. It moved down a few branches, before making a short glide down to the ground. Hopping towards me, it tilted its head, like it was trying to figure me out. The corners of my mouth twitched up in a smile at its cheeky expression.

"It's nice to meet you," I continued. "Thank you for singing."

Something told me that birds weren't supposed to understand what people said, but something also told me that this bird could. Its eyes were too intense, too focused on me to not be listening. In reaction to my words it puffed up its feathers, looking rather pleased.

"I do hope we can become friends."

At this point, both of us seemed so happy we were beaming.

--

The next morning I woke up to more birdsong, but when I rolled over to look into the tree, I was startled to discover that it came from not just one bird, but two. They sang together, harmonizing, and it made everything inside of me feel warm and tingly.

As I looked around, the more I seemed to notice. More bumblebees were hovering around the wildflowers, making their way from plant to plant. A ladybug was crawling around on some grass near my foot. A dragonfly flittered about me and, as I watched it skim across the water, I realized the pond now housed a few fish. They were small and silver, glinting in the sunlight, no bigger than my pinky finger. But they were fishes no matter what, and that made me incredibly happy.

It was almost amazing at the feelings these things were giving me. I felt them like an energy, like being in this place connected us all somehow in ways I didn't know how to explain. My insides tingled. I was smiling so hard my cheeks hurt. Something about this situation made me feel strangely comforted, and at home.

Home.

I'd thought that the first time I'd been here. I'd wondered where my home was, how I came to be here. But...maybe I didn't need to think that at all. What if this place was my home, but I'd forgotten somehow? How else could I explain this feeling? That I belonged here?

A loud chirp interrupted my thoughts. One of the birds was hopping around in front of me, and with a flutter of its wings, flew up to join its friend. Together they swooped around me, letting out playful calls, until finally I laughed and got to my feet.

"You want to play? Alright then, let's play!"

I chased them through the maze, laughing. They dove down teasingly close to my head, but flew up before I could touch them. Even as I ran, I kept laughing, never seeming to run out of breath. And everywhere we went, there seemed to be more and more to see. It was like there was more here now. More bugs, more flowers, more fish in other ponds. I'd seen none of this while exploring before now, and I was confident it hadn't been here before.

The birds turned through a gap in the wall and I followed, still giggling, but stopped when I saw what lay just ahead of me. A small gasp escaped my mouth.

This area was the largest by far that I'd encountered. Vines grew up on the inside of the brick, and although the flowers mostly kept to the sides, it was what lay in the center that made my mouth hang open. It was a huge stone circle, easily four or five feet high, and a joining circle seemed to wrap around the outside about halfway down. It almost looked as though it was made for sitting. Moss grew outwards from there, carpeting the ground. I walked over, slowly, and sank onto the hard bench to peer over the rim. My eyes widened.

It was full of water, and despite its height, seemed to stretch down for miles. Hundreds of fish swam around, spiralling down further than I could see. The water was so clear, so clean, and the surface completely unruffled by the breeze. Peculiarly, it held no reflections. The two birds had perched near me, and were intently watching my reaction.

"Wow," I breathed.

Their feathers puffed up as they chittered to each other, so I assumed they were pleased.

I don't think I blinked once while I stared down into the water, watching the hypnotic motion of the fish swimming. Round and round in constant circles. I folded my arms on the ledge, resting my head on top of them. My gaze never left the water, and that's where they stayed.

I must have spent hours there. I could feel the time slipping by, vaguely hear the birds come and go, but I couldn't look away. Even if I'd wanted to will myself away, I doubt my body would have moved. Something was keeping me here, but I was in no rush to fight it. I felt the temperature drop slowly, saw the light reflected on the water turn pink and gold. The sun was setting, I knew that. As it dipped behind the wall, the water darkened, and the fish became harder to see. Shadows swimming in deep depths, rotating out of reach. The sky above me grew dark, navy, dotted with stars. My eyes adjusted to the lack of light, and it was almost nice, like giving them a rest.

For a few minutes everything remained still, the same.

That's when the first fish began to glow.

It was just a spark, so deep I wasn't even sure I'd seen it. Then another, and another; my eyes widened as I lifted my head and gazed down into the water. One by one the fish were lighting up, golden and dazzling, like tiny suns swimming in liquid night. Pulsating, rhythmic, spiralling up towards the surface. The nearest fish were so close, it was like I could just reach out and touch them. Nothing else existed outside of this moment. They were all I saw, all I knew. They filled my vision until my eyes reflected their shine. Hypnotizing. Peaceful, in a way. Beautiful.

Every part of my being was drawn into this moment, and everything else melted away.



--

Warmth. The late afternoon sun hugging my back, my hair, my arms. My eyes fluttered open, taking a moment to take in my surroundings. By the pond. Right.

But something felt different.

I lifted my head, looking around. Everything looked the same. I looked down into the deep pond; the fish were still there, back to their normal colouring. The sky was blue, dotted with clouds. All the same.

But I felt different.

There was something in the air, in my hands, a tingling that almost wasn't there, but was, and I didn't know how to describe it. A soft buzzing in my fingertips. Like I could feel more than myself.

I'd always felt a connection to this place that I'd thought maybe stemmed from loneliness, or a desire to belong here.

But this was for certain. This was a connection I felt stronger, felt coursing through me. This wasn't imaginary.

I stood up slowly, taking a few tentative steps down. I felt the moss, the ground beneath me. I walked away from the pond, but I still felt it in my core. I was confident that I would never get lost trying to find it again. I'd be able to feel my way back.

Back into the maze trails, and despite not having explored the entire place, I knew every pathway. Could almost see them in my mind. I felt every blade of grass, every tree, flower, vine. Again, there was more of everything. I could hear the birds singing, bees buzzing, ladybugs fluttering about. Butterflies, dragonflies, beetles crawling throughout the grass. Bigger creatures; mice, voles, rabbits. Nature thrived here. I felt myself thriving.

I found myself going back to the pond and the willow tree. My senses were overloaded, and I sank down amongst the roots, leaning back against the strong trunk. I wasn't alone for long. The birds were back, chirping a greeting. A few various insects appeared, going about their business. I watched them, thankful for something simple to focus on.

I must have been asleep for awhile in the other area, because before long the sun began to set. The birds perched on a branch together. The insects burrowed into the grass. Mice scuttled in, finding a place in the roots to settle down. A small rabbit came in, laying close to my side. I could feel its warmth, feel its little heartbeat.

They feel like family.

The thought took me by surprise. Family? Where did that come from? I looked around at them, soundly sleeping as the sun dipped behind the wall and the last traces of light gave way to soft moonlight. Did they feel the connection like I did? Is that why they've come to me?

I didn't know what had happened when I'd slept by the big pond, what had changed within me. Why something had changed. It had certainly unlocked some kind of connection I had with this world around me, but it just brought forward a flood of questions I'd tried not to think about too much.

Why me? What was I supposed to do? I don't even know why I'm here!

Not for the first time, nothing seemed to give any answer.

--

I did what I had done before; tried not to think about it too much. Tried to enjoy what I had right now, and be happy with that alone.

I had company now. They followed me around, all of the little creatures, and listened whenever I talked to them. They explored the maze with me. We took breaks, sitting together by different ponds, while they nibbled on berries grown from the bushes. I felt no desire to eat or drink, but it was quite fun to see them all eating together. Sometimes they'd get juice stains on their chins, and I'd wipe them clean.

Motherly is how I would describe my connection to them. I felt a strong desire to protect them, keep them safe and happy. They allowed me to focus on them rather than question them, where they'd come from, why they were here now. Part of me didn't want to know. Part of me wanted to stay oblivious.

I think I was scared.

That seemed such a ludicrous idea. Who could be afraid in a place like this? This shining paradise, full of sunshine and nature. How could I feel nothing but peaceful here?

Maybe that was it. Maybe I was afraid of disturbing the peace. Maybe I was scared that, if I tried to dig too deep, I'd lose this place and not be able to get it back.

Which was worse? Being forcefully oblivious, or searching for a truth that could bring consequence?

There had been times I'd look to the sky for answers. Times I'd spoken questions aloud, and received no response.

Perhaps I had to decide if it was time for me to take matters into my own hands.

--

It wasn't far past dawn. The sun had hardly peeked over the wall; the sky was still a dusky pink. A light chill was in the air. I was laying back against the willow tree, its branches obscuring part of my view of outside. Animals were sleeping against me, their bodies warm, chests rising and falling evenly. My fingers idly stroked one of the rabbits, finding comfort from the soft fur.

How could I think of leaving them? Of looking for answers, when there might not even be any to find? What if I found nothing, and it had been a wasted journey? Should I just stay here? Was that it? Was I just supposed to stay here?

But is that really all I was here for? Could that really be it? Surely there must be more to me than this?

A breeze suddenly sprung up to rustle the branches. The leaves whispered in scratchy voices, somehow sounding as unsettled as I was. Like they knew what I was thinking.

Then the thought hit me, with such a force it would have knocked me from my feet had I not already been down.

What if they did know? I knew I'd questioned it before, but it had been a fleeting thought, one that I hadn't delved into more. But now the question was back, and this time, I was listening. If I feel this connection, they must feel it too, right? The animals feel safe around me. The tree welcomes me. The wind blows in time with my thoughts. Everything acts as though it hears me.

Careful not to disturb them, I stood up, gently moving the animals so that they carried on sleeping. I stepped out, brushing the leaves aside to look out at the pale sky. I breathed in the cool air, standing up straighter as I did so.

I felt my connection strengthen after being at the glowing pond.

I think it was time to visit that place again.

It wasn't hard to find it again. Ever since the first time, I'd seemed to know this maze like the back of my hand. Partially it felt strange, venturing there on my own without the birds. They'd hung around me since then, like little chirpy friends, and I appreciated that. But maybe they knew I had to do this alone...whatever this was.

The pathways seemed eerily quiet this morning. I knew I was up earlier than usual, but I'd expected to hear more than the occasional rustle. Was everything asleep? Or waiting to see what I would do? Even I didn't know that.

Approaching the pond, I crouched down on the stone ledge and peered over the edge into the water. It was the same as I remembered. Still surface. Silent, rotating spirals of fish. No glowing, but they were still there. I'm not sure what I'd been expecting. That they would be gone? That something would have changed?

I didn't know. I really didn't know.

"I-" I paused. Thought for a moment. Took in a deep breath. "I'm not - actually sure why I've come here. Not completely. Because I know I belong here for some reason. I know I have...a kind of family here, I guess?"

My voice echoed in the space. It sounded loud in this quiet place. I'd spoken aloud before many times - I was the only one here who could - but now it sounded like I could really hear myself.

"I think," I began slowly, "I'd like to know why I'm here. Why I feel this connection. Did I...come from anywhere? Somewhere...outside of this? Or am I just supposed to be here?" I bit my lip, and when I spoke again, my voice was softer than I'd intended. "I love it here, and I don't want anything to change, but...maybe a little insight would be nice. Reassurance, maybe. Something."

The last time I'd been here I'd watched the fish glow far into the night, hypnotized, and there I'd fallen asleep. But night was far off, and I didn't want to wait that long. Instead I curled up on the seating ledge, resting my head on my arms, and closed my eyes. I probably shouldn't have been tired - I'd not actually been awake for that long - but I hoped that a kind of sleep would come.

...

. . .

. . . .

--

Daylight. Clouds. White. Gray. Dark. Rain? Storm? Ground shakes. Thunder rolls. Flashes in the sky. Storm gone. Pale blue. Hesitant birds. Bird flocks. Butterfly flocks. Rainbow spirals. Fish spirals. Fish in the sky. Gold in the sky. Dark sky. Dark ground. Gold on the ground. Orange, red, yellow, warmth. Heat. Flickering, embers, smoke. Gone. Forests. Towering trees. Crisp branches. Withered grass. Wilted flowers. My hands.

My hands?

Touching. Soft touch. Flowers blooming. Flowers bloom from my hands. Grass grows. Trees sprout. Charred hills made green. Cool water. Cool breeze. Blue sky. Soft clouds.

Vision fading. Gentle dark. Solid dark. Warmth. Safe.

Sleep.

--

...
....
Awake.

My eyes opened into slits.

Breathing. Feeling. Warmth. Warmth. Awake.

Awake.

My eyes opened wide. I raised my head, gazing around me. I felt as though I had been asleep for a very long time. I had no way of knowing how long.

Slowly I stood, aware of the slight stiffness in my body. Most definitely as though I hadn't moved for a long while. Looking around me it was as though, yet again, nature had grown. I could feel it, all of it, all of them, tingling, connected. There was more, there were more energies, there-

wait.

Was I...taller?

I looked down at my feet, as though I could judge from that. Walked a few steps. Looked at my arms, my hands. They didn't look any different, but - I was sure I was taller. Had I grown? Had I aged? If I was older, how much older? Time was such a tricky thing to keep track of here. If I had aged somehow, surely it couldn't have been by much. Or maybe I hadn't aged. Maybe I was just taller.

Oh, I don't know!

The dream hadn't made sense. Me being taller, older, whichever - that didn't make sense. The pond making me sleep for so long, that made no sense either. I turned back to it now, but as always, it was as still as ever. It hadn't changed, but I felt as though I had.

"You wanted me to see that, right?" I asked aloud. "You made me sleep for a reason. You showed me that dream for a reason." I couldn't help but let out a frustrated huff. "But you still didn't tell me why. You showed me things I didn't understand. I still don't know why I'm here."

I sighed; a deep, heavy sigh, shoulders slumping slightly as I did so. "Thank you though," I said quietly. "I appreciate seeing these things, I just...it would be nice if I knew what they meant." And then softer, "if they mean anything at all."

Despite the warm tingling I could feel throughout my body, a part of me felt defeated in a way. I still didn't understand the connection. I was thankful for it, but I still didn't know why I had it. Why it existed, and why it was in me. With shuffling footsteps, I began my walk back to the willow tree. I could see moss had crept further up the wall. Patches of grass grew lush and thick. Butterflies fluttered about in the air, as did birds with their sweet songs. Flowers bloomed bigger, brighter. Their floral scent filled my nose, soft and comforting. Mice scurried about my feet. Rabbits hopped along, sniffing here and there, seeming very happy to accompany me back. The willow tree welcomed me with gentle rustling. Sun reflected from the small pond. Sunlight warmed my face, my shoulders. But I couldn't shake the dull, subtle ache that had settled itself in my chest.

I looked at everything, everyone, and I couldn't deny; I loved them. For some unknown reason, undeniably, I felt love towards them. A tender but fierce love; warm and fiery, motherly and protective.

They are like my family.

They are like my children.

I stopped.

My...children? My children? I love them like my children? Like a mother would love their child?

I looked at them, really looked, and saw their little curious eyes looking back. Twinkling, friendly, welcoming. Affectionate. Loving.

They...love me?

Emotion welled in my chest, warm and burning and wonderful, threatening to overwhelm everything else I felt. I knew it then. They loved me. I could feel it. I loved them like children. They loved me like a mother. But why?

But why?

The question that I couldn't seem to find an answer for. The question I had been afraid to ask. What I had asked, and gotten no answer for. The question I was afraid didn't have an answer at all. Or, even more so, was afraid I would never know.

The emotions became too much. My eyes began to water, blurring my vision.

For the first time in all that I could remember, I cried.

--

I didn't bother telling them I was fine, because I wasn't, and they knew it. The next few days held no birdsong, no chittering, no rustling winds. At night I slept under the willow tree, which seemed to cradle me in its branches. During the day I spent a lot of time staring at my reflection in the little pond. Sometimes the little fish would swim close to the top, making the surface ripple. I wasn't sure what I was searching for, in my own face, but I searched nonetheless.

It felt like such an odd predicament to be in. Because this place was my home, my sanctuary, but I couldn't stop questioning how I'd come to be here, why I was here, and so on. But in saying that, I was afraid to question it more. I didn't want things to change. I was scared there weren't any answers at all. Sometimes I wondered if I should be questioning it at all. But then I thought, no, I have been placed here with the ability to question things. If I wasn't supposed to, I wouldn't be able to. I couldn't help my curiosity.

I thought it was perfectly natural for someone to wonder why they woke up in a maze. Why they felt a connection to nature. Why, after falling asleep for goodness knows how long by a pond, they seemed to have aged.

And besides, if I wasn't supposed to question things, why would the glowing pond have shown me that dream?

That dream.

I'd thought about it many times, but it still didn't make sense. There had never been a storm here, the weather was always perfect. I'd never seen smoke here. Nothing wilted, nothing burnt. Everything was lush and healthy. Everything thrived. So why show me these things? Why show me something I'd never seen, something that never happened? And then the images of my hands - well, I had no idea what that was about, plain and simple.

I reached out now to gently touch one of the plants nearby. It held unopened flower buds, but hints of yellow were starting to show. My fingertips tingled from the contact. Perhaps that's what the dream had referred to; my connection to the nature here. Because I certainly didn't have the ability to-

My breath hitched in my throat.

Oh.

The tingling intensified, became warm, concentrated, powerful-

Oh my.

The buds, which had been still against my hand, suddenly bloomed.

I jumped back, letting out a choked sound as I did so. I stared at them, wondering if I was seeing things, wondering if they were back to normal. But no, there they were; newly bloomed flowers, golden in the sun.

I sat there numbly as a few rabbits investigated, sniffing curiously. A couple of birds perched on the wall, chirping to each other. A mouse sat by the pond, nibbling on a stray seed. Everything was carrying on as normal as I sat there, blank, trying to process what I had just seen. What I had just done.

Had I really done that?

And then a barrage of questions filling my head, drowning out every other sound, yelling and confused and still not understanding.

Above the roar of unknown, one question made itself heard.

Why?

Why?

Why?

"I can't do this anymore."

In a second, everything went quiet. The birds. The animals. The breeze. The willow tree. The entire maze held its breath, as all of the animals turned to look at me. I felt the weight of the situation press upon my shoulders, but after so long of living in unknown, I found I could bear the weight. I looked at their faces, felt the feeling of love tugging at my core. They looked back with the same expression.

"I have to know," I said softly. I felt tears pricking my eyes as I whispered again, "I have to know."

--

They accompanied me to the glowing pond. Of course that's where I was going. None of them tried to stop me. They seemed to know how important this was. If anything, their presence was encouraging. It made me feel as though this was the right thing to do. We entered together as one, quiet as we moved, and approached the pond. They all moved forward to scramble up on the ledge, leaving a space for me to kneel. All of them watched me as I leaned over to stare down into the water. The fish were circling in their usual rotation. The world seemed to grow silent, waiting to see what I would do.

I took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. When I spoke, I was surprised at how calm my voice sounded. "You know why I'm here."

A single flicker of golden light passed from fish to fish, spiralling down to the bottom of the pond. A breeze sprung up, gliding over my shoulders and across the pond, as though ruffling the surface with a single breath. A single voice seemed to whisper to me, rising up from the depths of the pond.

Come.

With shaky feet but no hesitation, I stood up and climbed up on to the edge. Taking in a deep breath, I let it out slowly, forcing myself to be calm. For a moment I looked at the animals, giving them a small smile. "I'll be back." I hope.

I stared down into the endless dark. Closing my eyes, I stepped forward and, in one fluid motion, let myself fall into the water.

--

Dark.

The ground beneath me was cold, slightly damp. My fingers moved to feel the grass, but it felt...unhealthy. I let out a tiny groan, blinking open my eyes. My head felt groggy as I stared up into a black, starless sky. There was no moon, no constellations. I sat up, trying to get a grip on my surroundings.

I was on a sparse stretch of grassy land, empty apart from a few scraggly bushes. To my right, a few low hills stretched out into the dark. To my left, I could see a thin forest in the distance. A faint glow was coming from further in. Wafts of smoke were rising above the treetops.

Smoke?

I felt a little flutter of hope; perhaps this was what I saw in my dream? Perhaps that would give me answers? Surely, the glow had to be good.

Stiffly, I got to my feet and began walking towards the glow. Beneath my feet, it was strange how different the ground felt. The grass here was definitely...weaker. Drier. When I first reached the trees, I felt a flicker of excitement. It was my first time seeing so many trees in one place, and they were a different kind than I was used to seeing. But when I reached out to touch one, it felt...sad, almost. I frowned slightly. My fingertips tingled, but in a different way. In the maze, everything was already healthy and thriving. But here, in this forest...I felt a very strong desire to help them.

"Why are you sad?" I whispered, gently stroking one of the branches. It seemed to let out a sigh, trembling slightly at my touch. For a moment, I almost thought it felt better.

A sudden noise distracted me, and I turned towards the sound. It was further away, more towards the glow. I gave the tree an affectionate pat before walking onwards to find the source. The further I walked, the more the sounds began to grow. I was confused at first, trying to figure out what it was, but all of a sudden I realized they were voices.

Voices! The only voice I'd ever heard was my own. Were there people here? Could they help me figure out what was going on?

I could hardly believe it. Emotion began welling in my chest as I hurried forward. I know I'd never been alone, but in all of the time I'd been in the maze, I'd never had anyone to talk to. Had the pond given me this? Others like me, to give me answers? I couldn't help being excited. This could be what I'd been searching for all along. They could be like me. They could tell me about the maze, why I was there, why-

I stumbled as a foul scent invaded my mouth. I'd not noticed the smell of the smoke intensifying, but it was strong. Acidic, burning, filling my lungs with each breath I took. My eyes watered as I coughed. It was disgusting. Covering my mouth, I still kept walking. The glow was brighter now, just ahead through the trees. But surely the glow couldn't be the source-

I stopped.

I stared.

The glow stood in front of me in a clearing, thick gray smoke curling up into the night sky, embers flickering in the dark. Embers. Like in my dream. But these weren't wonderful flickering pieces of light I'd convinced myself they were. This wasn't a glow that made me feel warm.

This was a fire.

A big, deliberately lit fire.

And I knew it was deliberately lit, because this is where the people were. Calling to each other, watching it, gathering things near the flames. Something twisted inside of me; disgust, disappointment, anger, sadness. Sickening. Because these people weren't like me. They weren't bothered by what they saw. They couldn't feel what I could.

They were feeding it.

The grass at their feet was charred, broken. Looking around, panic rose in my chest when I saw the roughly cut tree stumps. I could see the sap; see them bleeding. My chest ached for them. One of the people let out a shout, and I watched in horror as they raised an object above their head. The sharp point glistened dangerously in the firelight. I covered my mouth as I gasped. The weapon fell, hacking into one of the logs. Pain seared though my torso, as though the weapon had gone through my own body. I saw the tree bleed, felt its pain, heard it crying.

As the weapon was raised again, I couldn't help myself. Tears streaming from my eyes, a hand clutching my middle, I ran forward towards them.

"Stop!" I screamed. "Stop it! Don't hurt them!"

They all spun around, the surprise and confusion clear on their faces. I stopped, panting from the smoke, vision blurry. "Please," I pleased. "Stop it, please, you're hurting them!"

"Who are you?" One of them demanded. "Who cares," another one growled, the one with the weapon. "Just get rid of them, and let's get this job done."

The rest of them turned back to me, their expressions now one of narrowed and malicious eyes. They advanced towards me, and I took a hurried step back. Just to my right, behind them, I saw the weapon raised again.

Emotion exploded inside of me, a full force wave of feelings so strong it almost knocked me from my feet. Like a wave of water, like falling from a height, like being knocked so hard all of the breath escapes from your lungs and you're left gasping for something other than air. The connection I felt to nature burned in my veins; fiery and passionate, full of anger and power and a desire to heal. To protect.

Don't you dare hurt my children.

These people didn't care. They didn't hear their cries, feel their pain. These people were not like me. They didn't care that they were hurting the grass, the trees, the air. I could feel the panic from nearby animals.

But they didn't care.
These people were monsters.

My fingers were warm, tingling, more than ever before; like I was holding a tiny sun in each palm, pulsating with a desire to heal and restore and make healthy. The feeling traveled to every part of my body; my head my legs, my mouth, my feet.

But then I began to feel overwhelmed. Like I had too much energy in too small of a body. I felt as though I had a power to use, but didn't know where or how to direct it. Something twisted in me again, but this time it was different. Frustration. A flicker of fear. Doubt.

I took another step back, and one of monsters let out a noise of surprise. They were staring at my feet, and couldn't help but let out a gasp.

Where I stood, the ground had healed.

Around my foot, the grass was lush and green. Flowers bloomed from underneath. Compared to the earth around it, it was beautiful.

"How did you do that?"

My head shot up to see their cautious, hostile faces. Even the one with the weapon had stopped, staring at me. Before I could answer, they let out a hiss. "She's a sprite!"

That last word was all it took. Without warning they lunged forward, and with a startled shriek, I turned and fled.

For a moment I wanted to stay. I wanted to help the grass, the trees; wipe away their sticky tears; destroy the fire that hurt them so, and rid the sky of smoke.

But I couldn't. They chased me, right on my heels like a pack of monsters hunting down their prey. That's what they were doing; chasing me like I was an animal. Insults were hurled my way, threatening shouts, growls of annoyance as I stayed out of reach. I wove through the trees, the smoke still making my lungs burn. It made each breath harder to take, but I couldn't slow down.

Out of the trees, into the open field under a cleaner night sky. It felt good to breath in fresher air. But it hitched in my throat as I realized with a jolt of panic; I didn't know how to get back.

"I'm sorry!" I yelled hoarsely. "Please take me back! Take me away from them!" Fresh tears sprang up on the corner of my eyes. "Please!" I sobbed. "Let me back! Let me go home! Let me-"

I stumbled. I tripped. I fell towards the ground. My eyes squeezed shut, and everything went dark.

Dark.

--

Warmth.

My eyes flickered open, blinking from the sudden light.

Daylight.

For a few seconds, I was calm. Then with a sudden panic, like a kick in the chest, memories began flooding back to me like a swollen river bursting its banks.

I sat up hurriedly, my breathing rasping and rapid again, but it calmed when I began to process my surroundings. I was back in the maze. Back by the glowing pond, sitting on the ground with my back against the ledge. My body was trembling. Hands shaking. The sunlight was comforting, caressing my face, my shoulders, like a gentle embrace. Around me, the animals. My friends. My family.

All of them were here, crowded around me, touching me, making comforting noises. The rabbits, the mice, the voles. Butterflies, dragonflies, ladybirds, moths. Different kinds of birds, perching where they could, hopping around worriedly and chirping to each other. Frogs croaked quietly.

But more than that.

Moss had grown thick beneath me. Grass had grown where there previously wasn't, brushing against my legs. Flowers bloomed around my feet, all of them tilting towards me. Vines had crept across the ground and were loosely resting on my legs, back and shoulders. Holding me, almost. Anxious children comforting a mother.

My breath went wobbly again when I thought about where I'd been. What I'd seen. I knew that it hadn't been a dream. The first dream I'd had forewarned me about what was to come, what I would see. I hadn't understood at the time; I'd not known what the images meant. I'd had no idea they alluded to such horrible things.

Tears formed in the corner of my eyes as those things flashed through my head. The sick trees and grass, the burning fire, the embers and smoke polluting the sky. The people. No, the monsters. Only monsters could cut the trees so savagely. Watch the sap bleed into the earth. Let the hot flames consume the wood. Pursue me in such an aggressive way. Made me feel as though, if they caught me, I would meet the same fate as the trees.

I violent shudder ran through me. Nature pressed itself closer. The animals moved forward, putting their little paws on me in comforting gestures.

My watery eyes opened, and I looked at them. Their faces. Felt their warmth, their companionship, their love. Love. The same love I had for them. The connection we had with each other, together, as a family.

Tears spilled out of my eyes and down my cheeks at the emotion welling in my chest as finally, finally, I understood.

"I'm supposed to protect you, aren't I?"

A vine lifted itself from the ground and gently wiped the tears from my face.



It had taken those horrific moments in the forest to finally make me realize. The feelings I'd felt when I saw them hurting nature - the raw, unbridled emotion that had rocked me to the core - had been my desire to protect. To keep safe. Nourish, make healthy, take care of, love.

Animals felt safe around me.
I could make a flower bud bloom.
The sick tree felt better after I'd touched it.
Nature had bloomed beneath my feet.
I had healed it.

Sprite. That's what one of them had called me. Somehow the name seemed familiar. It felt like something I could call myself; something that felt comfortable. The powers I had - the powers I had been given, that I was discovering - I had them for a reason. I was here for a reason. Maybe I hadn't been able to heal that forest, but it had shown me that one day I could. My purpose would take me back there one day, when my power was stronger, and I would heal it.

In this maze, this place of unexpected twists and turns, I was free to discover myself in a safe place. There was no doubt that what I saw, that place I'd gone, was a whole other world I had yet to explore. It was a world with hurt, but one day I would have the ability to remedy those wounds.

My relationship to the flora and fauna - my connection to nature - was here for a reason. I was here to protect them. Love them. Heal them. Be their family, and in return, they would be mine.

"I'm supposed to protect you," I said again, voice stronger. "And I will."

They pressed closer on all sides, sending warm tingles throughout me stronger than the sun itself. I reached out to them, embraced them, felt our connection bring us together.

"I will."

[SilhouetteStation]

Username: SilhouetteStation
Name: Sadie Thompson
Gender: Female

Birthday: November 25th
Star Sign: Sagittarius
Favorite colour: peach
Favorite word: Benevolent
Favorite food: caramel popcorn (but she gets annoyed at the bits that get stuck in her teeth)
Favorite movie: Home on the Range
Favorite joke: "Why don't cows have feet? Because they lactose."
Ideal date: a stroll through the park and a bit of ice cream certainly wouldn't go amiss with her
Ideal night in: onesie + fluffy socks + a good movie + snacks = One Very Happy Sadie

• • • • •

6:45am
I awoke to the gentle sound of my alarm, Estelle's sweet voice bringing me out of sleep. I'd learnt long ago that loud, blaring alarms weren't exactly my thing. They just made me wake up in fright, thinking someone had broken into the house just to blast an air horn in my face. Custom alarm music? Much better.

I always set my alarm fifteen minutes before I actually got up to give myself some time to wake up properly. Laying there, blinking in the dusky light, snuggled up warm under my blanket, I could almost pretend that I could stay here. That my phone had made a mistake, it was the weekend, I could carry on sleeping.

But no, there was no mistake. That was okay, I supposed. The kids needed me.

Up I got with a stretch and a yawn, rubbing at my eyes. Out of bed, and before I could think about the cold, I shuffled into the bathroom for a shower. It was nice, the feeling of hot water and steam around my face. My long hair was always a bit of a mission to get through - big tip, always comb with conditioner - but I'd gotten faster at it over the years. Once out of the shower it was just a matter of blow-drying my hair and putting on a bit of moisturizer. Only a touch of makeup. Kids weren't bothered about that kind of stuff. I appreciated that.

Once dried and clad in dressing gown and slippers, I shuffled out into the kitchen, pausing to feed the fish in the lounge along the way. I'd love to have a cat or dog, but I knew logically I didn't have time for them. Really, that made me a responsible pet owner already. I wanted to give my future furbaby the best life possible, but I couldn't do that right now. I was too busy, and I didn't want them to feel neglected. So for now, it was goldfish. I could handle goldfish. Very good listeners if I wanted to have a bit of a grumble.

Breakfast was cereal, always. Nothing fancy. I didn't have time for fancy breakfasts anyway. I'd been taken out for a special cafe birthday breakfast once, and got treated to eggs benedict and some fantastic ciabatta toast. Did I want to cry? Yeah, a little bit. You appreciate things like that more when you don't have them often.

Once fed, I got dressed. It was nice being able to dress 'comfy formal', as we called it. T-shirt, clean jacket, typical 'mum jeans', socks, and converse shoes; outfit complete. My black soft leather handbag was always topped up with practical things - tissue packs, spare pens, chapstick, wet wipes, a box of band aids. With the job I had, you could just never be sure when you'd need something.

Then came the fun part - sarcasm alert - of getting all my papers together. Whenever you brought something home, which was everyday, you had to be sure you were taking it all back. We'd all made the mistake of not bringing back someone's spelling test, or their story writing, and feeling awful about it in class. I tried to make sure everything was kept tidy in a specific folder which, after double checking, I slipped into my bag. Then the portfolio, full of rosters and lesson plans, which I had to carry tucked under my arm.

Phone charged, things gathered, the house was left to carry on sleeping as I made my way outside and locked the door behind me. Shivering slightly at the cooler temperature, I walked down the stone path and out to the street. The sky was a milky blue, a few early birds chirping from the power lines. It was a lovely, quiet street; I was very content to live around here.

Into my car, and the first thing I did was start playing music. I swapped out albums whenever I finished them, which took a few days considering work was only a ten minute drive. I hummed as I drove, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel as I did so. Main roads would probably be filled with a bit of traffic by now, but I knew the alternative roads to take to get to my destination. Why wait in traffic to get to somewhere so close to my house?

7:50am
I always felt a warm tingle of happiness whenever I pulled up outside the school. There was a big hand-painted sign welcoming people, with a lovely colorful mural and everyone's handprints. Mine were up there, near the top right. We'd had so much fun creating that piece. I hoped we'd do something like that again someday.

I pulled up in the staff parking area, and gathered the things from my car. The kids wouldn't be arriving yet. I liked to make sure I had everything set up beforehand, so I wasn't scrambling before the bell went. It was always a bit strange walking through the school when it was empty. You got so used to seeing the kids running around, hearing their chatter and laughter. Seeing the little splashes of color still made me smile. The bright yellow and green wooden benches, the painted stones in the garden, their artwork inside classroom windows. It just brought a good feeling to the place.

"Sadie!"

I turned around at the voice as Briar-Rose caught up to me, falling into step. "Morning," I said, giving her a friendly nudge with my shoulder.

"You want a cup of tea?" she asked, and I shook my head. "Still full from breakfast."

"Come watch me drink a cup so I have someone to talk to?" she asked instead, and I laughed. "Yeah, go on then."

We made our way into the staffroom; our little sanctuary away from the children's territory. It was lovely and cozy, and made for a safe retreat when we needed to recharge. A few other staff members were in there, who we greeted before Briar-Rose made her tea and we sat down at the table. This was nice, too; having a good work family to spend time with. Briar-Rose and I had become very good friends, both in and out of school. Principal McKinnon was very big on creating harmonious work spaces, and he'd done a very good job so far.

As it neared bell time, the other teachers left, and as Briar-Rose was washing her cup the principal in thought appeared. He was quite tall, with a deep voice and somewhat intimidating appearance. We all knew he was a bit of a puppy dog on the inside. Those kids had him wrapped around their little fingers.

"Good morning, ladies," he greeted us. "Sadie, Rosie."

She almost dropped her cup in the sink. He was the only one who called her by that nickname. It also seemed it wasn't only the children whose finger he was wrapped around.

"Alistair," I greeted him.
"Alistair," Briar-Rose repeated, wiping her hands quickly before turning around. Her eyebrows pulled together into a concerned frown. "You've hurt yourself again!" she scolded, studying the light bruise on his cheek. "It wasn't that shelf again, was it?"

"In fairness, it was a dumb place for me to put it," he replied, rubbing the back of his neck and laughing awkwardly.

I glanced between the two of them before announcing, "I'll see you two at morning tea, then. Have fun chatting amongst yourselves." Gathering up my things, I walked out of the room with a little smile on my face, ready to face the day.

8:30am
"Good morning Miss Thompson!"

"Good morning darlings!" I returned the greeting. I'd had just enough time to set up the classroom before the bell rang to start the school day. I always felt a burst of pride opening the door, seeing them all lined up outside, eager to begin the day.

"Alright, inside now everyone. Wipe your shoes on the mat. Bags on hooks, please. Only get out what you'll need - and before you ask Tommy, no, you do not need your lunch box right now."

With a few giggles they made their way to their seats, and I took her place at the front of the room. "Roll time!" I announced. "If you're here, I want you to moo, okay?" Everyday was a different animal. It was my way of bringing fun to this part of the morning; plus it got their attention.

Each school day generally had the same structure, to keep a sense of routine. There was a little activity in the morning - today was a spelling test. Some days it was a word find, or a few math problems. Something to kickstart their minds. Then came a bit of reading, where the kids could choose a book from the shelf, and they spent fifteen minutes focused on that. Each kid then got a worksheet to fill out, all identical no matter what book they'd gotten. Simple questions, like who the main character was, and a summary of what they'd just read. I could mark the spelling test in that time, and catch up on any work I had. Then came more worksheets, filled with sentences that needed correcting and punctuation that needed to be added.

There was always satisfaction in knowing I was helping them learn. I was giving them valuable life skills that would help them in the future. I enjoyed taking on this role, and it made me feel good knowing I was doing something good. I'd had wonderful teachers growing up, and I hoped I'd become the same sort of figure in their lives. I didn't have kids of my own, but honestly, they all felt like mine. I wanted them to be safe, and happy.

But of course, they weren't always so well behaved.

10:00am
Morning tea was always nice. Seeing the kids running about, playing, laughing. I'd been tempted a few times to join in with a game of hopscotch. But it was also nice just to watch them through the staff room window, coffee in hand, relaxing before the next part of the day. Briar-Rose was at my side, also sipping at a coffee.

As we chatted, I noticed she kept glancing away, and only seemed to be half listening. I followed her eyes, and saw her soft gaze rested on McKinnon as he spoke with some of the other teachers. The corners of my mouth twitched up in a smile. I gave her a nudge, and she quickly turned back to face me. "Hmm?"

"So," I said casually, "when are you and him gonna start things up?"

"Sadie!" she hissed, cheeks flushing pink. "That's not - we're not - no!" I raised an eyebrow at her flustered expression as she babbled on. "I mean, come on, he's the principal, I'm a teacher, it - um - wouldn't be professional. That's it."

"You're not just shy?" I questioned. "Because I wouldn't be. It's obvious he likes you too."

She opened her mouth to argue, and then shut it again. She was still blushing when the bell rang for class to start again, and I winked at her before setting off to my room.

10:40am
We'd only been back in class for ten minutes when there was trouble. It all started over an argument for crayons. Often silly, trivial things could be a lot bigger to children, and people forgot that sometimes.

They'd been happily coloring, me going from table to table, when they started raising their voices. I'd barely had time to look up when there was a shout, and the two boys were out of their seats and throwing hits at each other at the back of the room.

"Hey, hey, hey!"

My shouting did nothing to stop them, and I rushed back to get between them and push them apart. "Stop it!" I demanded as one of them tried to reach around me to land another punch. "Stop it," I repeated, moving out my arms to keep them further apart. "There is no fighting in here!" The classroom was silent, everyone watching the three of us to see what would happen.

"He started it," one of them mumbled.
"He started it!" the other snapped back.

"Both of you are to blame," I told them calmly, "because you both let it come to a fight. You both tried to hurt each other, and didn't try to talk it out. If you have a problem, you come to me. Understand?"

Both of them were quiet, looking down at the ground and shuffling their feet.

"Now you'll both stay in here for part of lunch time," I continued, "and you'll do some writing for me. You'll write down what you were fighting about, how you reacted, and what you should have done instead. Okay?"

"Yes, Miss," they said quietly.

"Good," I said, suppressing a sigh. "Now go and sit back down. No more arguing." I raised my voice. "Everyone back to work."

The atmosphere was subdued as they put their heads down and I sat back down at my desk. It wasn't long until they started murmuring, talking quietly, and then ultimately chatting as usual. That was the wonderful thing about kids; while small things made them upset, a lot of the time it didn't really phase them later on. By the end of the day, it would be old news. I'd still be worked up from it, but they wouldn't be. Already the two boys were tentatively making conversation again. They didn't have to worry about it, but we did. The teachers always put up with their nonsense, not because we had to, but because we cared.

When you became a teacher, it wasn't just about teaching them things and earning a salary. When we came to school, we had a duty to take care of other people's children and give them the best experiences possible. Essentially, we became their second parents.

But there was nothing in the manual that could prepare you for that.

12:20pm
Almost half an hour after lunch time started, I let the two boys out of the class and made my way to the staff room. With a heavy sigh I slipped into a chair beside Briar-Rose, and she turned at my appearance.

"There you are!" she exclaimed. "We were wondering where you'd gotten to. I was about to send out a search party."

"Two of the boys got into a fight," I replied wearily, and her expression changed to one of worry. Alistair, seated across from her, turned as I spoke and leant across the table. "A fight?" he echoed, eyebrows creasing together in concern.

"Nothing serious," I reassured him. "Bit of a tiff over some crayons. No injuries. I got them to write about what happened, we talked it out, and they're fine now. Funny how fast kids get over things," I added, forcing out a laugh.

"And are you okay?" he asked, voice still serious.

I gave him a weak smile in return. "I'm fine, really. It's just something that happens, isn't it? Occupational hazard."

He remained quiet, looking down at the table. If they'd been alone, I think Briar-Rose would have reached across to take his hand. It wasn't hard to see why she was so fond of him. She was a ray of sunshine herself, so it wasn't surprising that she would be drawn to someone as soft and gentle as Alistair. Behind that large, intimidating appearance was an absolute teddy bear of a man. He loved the students like he would his own kids. It wasn't often you found such compassion in principals, so we'd absolutely lucked out with him.

Briar-Rose gave my back a gentle rub, and I smiled at her. "Don't worry, I'm fine," I repeated, although I appreciated the gesture. "Everyone feels a little worn out after something like that. Just comes with the job."

"I think we all get a little worn out no matter what," she murmured quietly, and then gave me a half smile. "Guess that's an occupational hazard too."

We'd had these discussions before. You could have the best work day ever, and still be tired. The early mornings, the late evenings; work didn't just stay inside these gates. You always took work home with you. There was always marking, always figuring out the weeks plans. Catching up if you get behind, trying to make sure you're always ahead. Things constantly running through your mind. Any problems with kids or staff, personal or not, became yours. You dwelled on things, wondering if you could have prevented them, or how you could fix them. Because we cared about each other. We were family.

Sometimes it got really hard. Sometimes kids had their own issues they brought to school, and we had to be prepared to deal with those. Sometimes their families couldn't buy school supplies, and we stepped in to buy them with our own money. If the school itself ran out of supplies, or something needed to be replaced, a lot of the time we gave from our own pockets to get it fixed. That's just how it was.

Teachers; overworked and underpaid. That was our motto. We wouldn't give up our jobs for the world, but a little more help and recognition would be nice. More government funding wouldn't go amiss. But until that day came, we'd just have to make do.

As if he could read my thoughts, Alistair let out a sigh. He had a little smile on his face, but it didn't meet his eyes. "You're all so wonderful," he murmured aloud. "I wish I could make things easier. I'd give you all the world if I could."

"You're wonderful too," Briar-Rose said quietly, and his expression softened as he looked at her. Then, seeming to realize where she was, Briar-Rose quickly looked away and wrapped her arm around my shoulders. "But we're talking about you right now. Things happen, but this is your thing that's happened, so let's focus on you. Whatever you need - if you need anything, that is - you know where to find us."

I let out a little snort of laughter, affectionately touching my head to her shoulder. "Thanks. I'm lucky to have friends like you."

"Aw, you sap. Here," she reached over to one of the plates to grab me a muffin. "Eat this," she said, pushing it at me. "Keep up that strength." I nibbled at it, still feeling a bit stressed from before, but my stomach was starting to relax. It really was good, having friends like her. Having such a supportive work environment. It made things easier, made me feel better. By the end of lunch, with help from her and Alistair's bad dad jokes to cheer me up, I was starting to feel better.

1:30pm
Half an hour into the last part of school, just under an hour to go. With reading and spelling exercises done in the first part, and then math and - problematic - art in the second, the last part of the day was usually a bit more fun. We all remember what it was like to be in the final part of the school day. Everything felt a bit lazier, you knew you'd be going home soon, and you just felt a bit restless. To keep their attention, I had to keep things fun.

Sometimes we did scavenger hunts, where they had to run around solving clues to answer questions and find prizes. Sometimes we did a bit of science - everyone loves a baking soda volcano, right? Today was neither of those. Apparently, I must of had some idea of what was going to happen before lunch, because I'd already organized for us to make friendship bracelets.

"Now I want everyone to make and receive one, okay?" I said once they'd all settled their exciting chattering. I'd taught them to braid in the last few weeks, not telling them what it was for, and I was - mostly - confident in their abilities. At the very least they'd successfully picked out the colored thread they'd wanted, and taped the strands to their desks. "You'll all make one, put it in the basket, and then you'll all take out one randomly. Because we're all friends here, right? No one is leaving today without a friendship bracelet. Except you two," I gave a hard look to the two boys from before. "will be making for each other. Yes?"

"Yes Miss," they mumbled back, looking sheepish.

"Good," I said, nodding. "I'll come around different tables to see how you're all getting on. If you need me, just raise your hand. Okay, now let's get to work!"

This was always a fun part of work. I liked being able to give them an activity every day that they could do with their hands. We all knew full well that some students learnt better by doing rather than watching; not everyone was a visual learner, and we tried to encourage different kinds of education here. Even something as simple as friendship bracelets held learning. It taught a handy life skill, it made them concentrate, it let them measure things out themselves, and it would let them go home feeling rather important.

Of course, one of my favorite parts was seeing what they created. The beads, the colors. You could see they enjoyed doing this; you could see they were having fun while they were learning. And that's what made being a teacher worthwhile.

2:20pm
"Alright, time to pack up!"

It was always those words that sparked a flurry of activity. Kids bustling around each other, putting things away, packing their bags, tidying the classroom. There was almost always stray belongings scattered around the room, waiting for their owners to be found. I'd given many lectures about the importance of not losing things, but hey, kids would be kids. They misplaced stuff. It was just something that was gonna happen.

I supervised them, making sure everything was put back where it should be and inspecting their cleaning efforts. It was good for them to learn to do that. Respect their surroundings, and so on. It's something I'd learnt as a child, and I wanted to pass that on to them.

When all was tidied they stood eagerly behind their chairs, backpacks in front of them or on their backs. If they all ran to get them at dismissal, it turned into a bit of chaos. Much easier to get them beforehand.

I stood at the head of the room, a feeling of love and pride warming my chest. "Did we all have a good day?"

"Yes!" they replied in a chorus.

Outside, the bell rang.

"Class dismissed. I'll see you all tomorrow, darlings. Have a good night! Make good decisions!"

I trailed behind them as they hurried outside, chatting and walking off to their destinations. Some to find parents or siblings, some to go to the bus lines. The school day was officially over for the kids, but not for the teachers.

3:30pm
An hour since school had officially ended. I'd helped out with bus duty but then it was back to the classroom, and back to my desk. It was so quiet, now; classrooms seemed strange when they were empty. At least it let me concentrate easier.

Us teachers didn't just do school hours. Early starts and late finishes; that's just how it was. You had to mark, to plan out the weeks schedule if you hadn't already, to plan out each moment of the day. Figure out what worksheets you need, get all the copies you need. Even little things; bin the small bits of broken crayon, make sure you had enough art supplies, make sure there were enough glue sticks to go around. Goodness knows, it was always those you ran out of.

Once my paperwork was finished, and the classroom double checked, I locked up and made my way to the staffroom. Again, it seemed empty to walk through the school grounds without the kids. It was the same feeling as when you came here in the morning, except now the sun was casting down a soft, lazy warmth. It made you want to take a nap, but that could wait until later. First I wanted to check in and see who was still here.

A few teachers passed me on the way, and we shared a quick chat before I went inside and poked my head in the staffroom. Empty. I made my way back outside, and had only taken a few steps out the door when I heard my name being called. Briar-Rose was walking over from her classroom, arms full of folders and a few strands of hair out of place.

"You look a bit frazzled," I commented as she tucked her hair back into place. She let out a little huff at my words, but still forced a smile. "Just the usual, y'know. All that…fun paperwork."

I gave her a sympathetic look. "We'll go out this weekend, yeah? Get a coffee or something."

She gave me a tired smile. "That'd be nice, yeah."

We moved forward to give each other a hug, but when we went to move apart my elbow accidentally knocked one of the folders from her arms. She reached down to grab it, but stopped when another hand picked it up first. Both her and Alistair straightened up. I noticed she touched her hair again, despite smoothing it only moments ago, and forced myself not to grin. She took it from him with a soft thank you, a light blush spreading over her cheeks.

"Heading home now?" he asked.

"I've got a date with my dressing gown and a face mask, so I probably shouldn't keep them waiting," I replied, and he let out a deep chuckle. "You deserve it after today. Well, every day, really. Both of you." He turned to Briar-Rose, and his eyes softened with concern. "Are you okay? You seem a bit..."

"Frazzled?" I suggested innocently.

"Something like that, yes. Not the way you look" he said quickly when she went to touch her hair again. "I can just - tell." At his words, her blush deepened. Honestly, she was a bit like a cliche school girl sometimes, crushing on someone in her class. And, being the good friend I was, I knew she needed a nudge from time to time.

"I'll head off, if you don't mind," I said casually. "I'll see you both tomorrow. Have a good night."

She sent me a tiny glare, but I knew she wasn't really angry, because she could only hold the angry expression for a second before her little smile returned. I left them there, talking, glancing back every now and then with a stupid grin on my face. It was quite fun having a bit of romantic drama at work. I wanted her to be happy, of course, but we all knew it was just a matter of time before they got together, and a few bets had possibly been made about when. Not that we were going to tell them that.

6:52pm
Because I was smart, I always cooked ahead during the weekends so that freezer meals were ready for me during the week. Things like mac and cheese, lasagne, and so on. Or if I didn't feel like what I'd made, it wasn't hard to whip up a toasted sandwich. Sometimes at the end of the day, all you wanted was a really good cheese toastie. Always at the end of the day, though, you didn't really want to be cooking too much. You were tired, your feet were sore; it was nice to have something ready and waiting.

Later on, it was a relief to put the work aside and curl up on the couch in a soft blanket. My feet were tucked up, and a mug of hot chocolate was nestled in my hands. A comedy quiz show was playing out on the TV, and I made a mental note to myself to write up another quiz sheet for an afternoon activity. I kept the lights off while it was on, just enjoying the darkness and soft glow of the screen. A light, soothing rain had started outside, adding to the relaxed atmosphere I'd made for myself.

When it started getting a bit later I heaved myself away from the comfortable blanket nest, and started getting ready for bed. It was a simple routine; wash face, moisturize, get changed into pajamas. Was I a grown woman? Yes, yes I was. Did I wear a onesie to bed? Yes, yes I did. It was a unicorn. Rainbow mane and horn on the hood. It was very warm and, if I did say so myself, made the wearer look incredibly adorable.

Alarm set, I slipped into bed and snuggled down into the sheets. After a long day of work, there was nothing like settling in and feeling your body relax. Pushing all your stresses away, resting your tired mind, and looking forward to sleep.

Don't get me wrong, I loved what I did. I wouldn't lie about it being stressful. I wouldn't lie about the hours being more than you signed up for. That you're on your feet a lot, you go to a lot of meetings, you spend so much of your time thinking about what's coming next and spending your own money on things the school needed. At the end of the day you were exhausted.

But, there was also a deep, warm sense of satisfaction.

In knowing that you've helped a child learn. You've taught them something new. You've made them smile, laugh, feel like they've done something good. You help them improve. You stop the occasional fight, and help them make up. Sometimes you give them things they can't afford otherwise, and in return they give you a priceless kind of love you can't get anywhere else.

Teaching, by far, was not the easiest job to have.

But having the opportunity to shape a child's future, and help them to be the best version of themselves? To help give them the best start in life?

I wouldn't give it up for the world.

[SilhouetteStation]

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[SilhouetteStation]

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[SilhouetteStation]

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[SilhouetteStation]

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[SilhouetteStation]

these entries are,, so long,, gotta leave these blank to stop the lag