The Colorless Land

Chapter 26: Power and Resistance

It was too cold. But more than anything, it was too bright.

Maithea had heard a lot of things about the Colorless Land, but not that it was never night there. What exactly they had done to it, she didn't know. But there was no sun here that could rise or set; the sky was always the same shade of white, day or night, unmoving and unchanging. Clouds, maybe, but for clouds too bright and too uniform.

Fog might be nearer the mark. Layers and layers of that glowing fog that accompanied the Colorless wherever they went, isolating them from the world outside.

Sleeping, of course, was next to impossible. Not that there was much time to sleep to begin with. The Colorless granted them the barest minimum of everything: food, water, and sleep time all seemed carefully calculated, and anyone who couldn't manage on those rations was left behind. More than once she and Nellary had seen one of the older, weaker villagers collapsing in the snow during work, ignored by the Colorless and eventually abandoned. Several times they had tried to rescue them, only to be stopped and made to continue their work.

And work they did, like there was no tomorrow. The Colorless People made them. There was always something to do: constructing buildings, felling trees, paving roads, making weapons and armor. The villagers were set on the different tasks according to their skills and strength, but little joy did they find in them. There were barely any breaks, and whenever they finished a task early in the hopes of getting to rest longer, they found the next one already waiting.

"I've had enough of this place," Nellary muttered one evening when they managed to get close enough to talk. "People are dropping like flies. Aren't we supposed to be their hostages? Shouldn't they keep us safe till they can exchange us for whatever they want?"

"I don't know," Maithea replied. "Earlier someone said they might save the people who collapse after all, but hide it from us. Or maybe they're trying to pressure the king."

"And we can do nothing." Nellary set her jaw, glaring at the fine mist, almost unnoticeable, that hung all about the air. "It's hard enough just keeping your sanity with this...this stuff all about!"

Maithea placed a hand on her arm. "Don't shout, Nell. It'll make it worse—"

"I know that! But what am I supposed to do? Bite my tongue until it's my turn to break down? Don't make me laugh!"

"Why wither away slowly," said a voice from behind them, "when you can make it fast?"

They spun around, their gazes falling on Fayabel's face. At least, going by the voice and remaining features, it must have once been Fayabel. Now she was almost unrecognizable. Large parts of her hair were white. Her skin was so sickly pale she could be mistaken for one of the Colorless. Even her eyes had taken on an eerie grayish hue.

"Fay," Maithea said, trying to smile. "It's good to see you alive."

Fayabel gave a scoff. "Alive? Only on the outside," she said. "My children are gone. My soul is gone. What's the point in staying alive in this place? What's keeping any of us alive?"

"Your children might still be alive," Maithea suggested.

"Might be! So what? I'll never see them again. And if I do, they won't recognize their own mother!" Fayabel made a sound that should have been a laugh but came out as a strangled cough. "The sooner we all freeze to death, the better."

Maithea took a hissing breath. Nellary flinched. She, too, must have noticed it.

"The Fay I know wouldn't talk like that," she said. "You are not yourself."

Fayabel slowly lifted her head. For a moment the only emotion on her face was cold, blank apathy.

"So what," she said. "It doesn't matter who I am. Only what."