A Touch Of Darkness

5 || Spark Blue

I wake as if jolted by lightning, sitting bolt upright as it fries my veins. My eyes snap open, then slide closed in retreat, too abruptly ripped from the darkness to see.

Tentatively, I take a breath. The air does not squirm away. There is a faint chill, and it soothes my insides, settling over me like a second skin.

Exhaling, I lie back, waiting for the thud of my heart to recede. The warmth is gone. The darkness is a comfort again, its burn no longer piercing my lungs. With each passing second of stillness and calm, I feel more in control of myself, less shaky and fearful. Enough so that I allow a thought to spread wings, to fly to the surface in the form of a question.

Where am I?

I sift through my memories, and the air rakes my throat as I gasp. It is cold, but too dry.

I am out. It is such a bare thought, short and simple, but its truth leaves me breathless. I have stepped outside of my cell. I have journeyed through the castle, seen others, laid eyes on the sky.

The very sky that sliced me with sunlight, that forced me into the dark's void. I swallow. With that one detail, a thousand more flood in, each droplet dampening my brief elation.

Oscensi has fallen. Its castle and its people are soaked in blood. I accompany our sworn enemy, the kingdom responsible for our destruction.

I place names to those enemy soldiers. Oswin, dead at my touch. Edita, his fiercely loyal sister. Tyler, the stern archer. Giulia Velez, the quirky general. And Harlow, the captain that truly saved me, the one who was with me when I must have passed out.

Nothing is simple anymore. Back in the cell, it was easy to call Neyaibet the evil ones. Now I don't know where I stand.

"Are you nocturnal or something?"

The voice is new, yet it strikes through me. I open my eyes, automatically feeling for my dormant flame.

I am in a small room, no bigger than my cell, though a little more furnished. The lighting is dim, familiar, lit only by a single lantern at my feet. I clearly make out the padded seat opposite, its colour a blue reminiscent of the daytime sky, and the man resting at its centre.

His sword lies unattended on the seat beside him, while his hands are flat behind his head, elbows sticking out either side. Short hair sticks up in unkempt tufts, so earthen in colour that it wouldn't surprise me to learn he massaged mud into it earlier. His jacket, a rich brown with the dark traces of green stains, hangs loose and unzipped, revealing the slate grey shirt beneath. One leg is crossed over the other. Despite his attire, he must be one of Neyaibet's soldiers, yet he appears utterly relaxed. His position does not change in the slightest as I survey him.

Yet there is something expectant about his expression. I suddenly remember his question, and hurriedly clear my throat. "What do you mean?"

He lowers his hands, using one to gesture sideways. I follow it and notice a window, specks of dirt catching in the lamplight and standing out from the darkened glass. Beyond, there are only blurred shadows. I would have to move closer to make out what they are.

"The sun only set, like, five minutes ago," the soldier says. I turn back towards him. "You literally woke up as it became night. I thought you might be nocturnal." He shrugs. "You know: sleep in the day, awake at night."

"Oh." I recall my time in the cell. "I don't think so? I've never really thought about it."

"Fair enough." He reclines against the headrest. "Nice to have you awake, anyway. The journey's been pretty boring so far."