Radiance - The Alight Archives Book #1

62. Black Thorns

It had been midday when the yolk-like sun spilled onto a sky barren of clouds that Fearne had been summoned. Those hallways, cramped, empty, yet painfully familiar to her, led across a voiceless building, her only company coming in the form of the countless portraits—they were meant to service regal decor, but she always found them ominous—staring at her on either side of the hallway, plastered on green-colored walls that reminded Fearne less of freshly-cut grass and more of the sickly moss you'd find proliferating on fallen, forgotten logs.

Like all the other girls, she was prohibited from entering these halls unless they were escorted by one of the caretakers or—much like in this instance—the Headmistress beckoned for them. Fearne could count on one hand the reasons why the Headmistress herself might find the need to house an audience. More commonly than not, it was to address a complaint or a mistake, the kind that you'd call a girl aside and address privately, secluded from prying eyes.

Now, on those rare occasions when one of her fellow sisters hadn't misbehaved or skipped on their lessons or was caught sneaking out past curfew, well, then, the only possible reason Fearne could think of was that they would have been chosen. Then, could that have meant that she-

No! No, that was ridiculous. Utter nonsense not even worth pondering over. Out of all the sisters St. Miriam had to offer the kind folks of Incante, what in their right mind would convince them to choose her of all people?

There was Peighton in the room across from hers, who had a fantastic memory. You could mention something to the long-nosed girl in passing three weeks prior just for her to recite it back to you word for word months later. Many often joked that they could see her as a prominent defender of justice or, if nothing else, she'd make for a good teacher.

The only problem was that despite her kind nature, she had a short temper, a quality that wasn't best suited for someone tasked with monitoring over twenty children for eight hours a day. Fearne laughed at the thought of Peighton blowing up right in front of her students; what a sight that would be.

Then, there was Maddison—the girl sharing the bunk bed with Ria adjacent to her own—who had a natural gift for building and putting things back together. Fearne had once observed the girl with cherry-colored hair as she expertly reattached the shingles of the bathroom door in a little under an hour. Saved them the trouble of having to call and pay for a handyman, that did.

She was also responsible for crafting a functional rocking chair from the leftover wood they had stacked up in the front yard. With enough training, Fearne could envision her sister as an efficient mechanic in fifteen, maybe twenty years. A jack-of-all-trades.

Honestly, St. Miriam had no shortage of exceptional girls. Indeed, it was a refuge for the gifted, and as Fearne continued down the hall, she noticed that each step forward came slower than the last until she arrived at a complete stop, her arms drooping to her sides just as her braided ponytail noodled over her shoulder and a good ways past her breast.

Once again, that infernal yet ever-present question consumed her: Why would someone want to choose her? What had she to offer anyone? Her sisters? Now, they had gifts. All kinds of odd but valuable quirks and habits that, should they fail to support their new families, would, at the very least, brighten up the atmosphere with their unique auras.

But Fearne's was an Essence that blended in with the colorless smog of mediocrity. She hadn't a perfect memory like Peighton. She couldn't hastily fix things as Maddison could. No, all she was really good for was fetching a broom and making up the beds and cleaning the storage rooms and watering the plants. She didn't think she'd wind up as one of the chosen like many of her other sisters, and if she couldn't land a job as a maid by the time St. Miriam would release her when she turned eighteen, then really, what would become of her?