Shadow Sun (Nevermor #3)

The Beginning

What happened to me? He could no longer recall.

Despite the uneasiness of that mystery, he was beginning to feel better. The aches of his body were fading, the air in his lungs was clear, and he felt that he had truly awoken for the first time. He was new somehow. Old pains were nothing he needed to bother himself with.

The fairy-thing drifted around him, silent now, and the boy looked out over the land, viewing the span of the desert, seeing the empty slate that it was—a blank expanse that could be made to be anything at all.

This is home, the boy thought, and a short smile had just touched his face when he noticed a dark shadow, wavering and ethereal, coming toward him across the dry ground.

For a moment he had believed it to be a mirage, but once he saw that the figure was drawing nearer to him, he was certain that it was another person. Perhaps it had been wrong to believe that he was alone here—wherever here was.

Out of curiosity, the boy began to walk toward the figure, just as it came forward to meet him. He could see that it was a man, his shadow elongated with the blazing sun at his back. This man was only moving toward the oasis perhaps, but the boy felt an uneasiness in the pit of his stomach, which doubled with every step. He moved across the dry ground as the other continued to approach, and eventually, he was able to see the man within the dark shadow.

The stranger was dressed oddly for the desert, wearing dark clothes and with long black hair, twisted and damp with sweat. He was tall and broad, much older than the boy. His skin was pale, and one eye was maimed and empty, scratched out by a long scar down his face.

Where did he come from? the boy wondered suddenly—possessively. There is no place for him here. This is my world.

The boy moved forward with the fairy-thing drifting behind him, and stopped a short distance from the man. They met each other as if coming together for a duel, perceiving their rivalry from the start. Both seemed confused by the other's presence, but there were no words between them in the Beginning. They only stared.

The man's face reminded the boy of a fox, shrewd and focused, his keen blue eye set—and suddenly the boy knew him. The man was a vision from his nightmares, of one who commanded and tortured him—a mortal enemy that he could not dismiss no matter how many of his memories were taken from him.

"It's you," the boy growled, instantly furious. He could feel his fists trembling as they clenched at his sides. "You followed me here!"

The man did not seem affected, looking at him with indifference, though the boy noticed the man's hand reaching toward his side to a place a gun might have been, but relented when he did not find one there.

"I don't know who you are, boy," the man said easily, his voice rough and threatening, and the boy hated him all the more for it. The man looked around, toward the oasis and up at the sky which took on an amber glow as clouds began to gather. "What is this place?"

"You think you can rattle me, don't you?" the boy accused, not caring what the dark man had to say. He knew the truth. "You can't force me to follow in your footsteps. I'll fight you to my last breath, and I will never be evil like you!"

The words were full of the malice he felt. Thunder was beginning to groan and a strange wind was blowing past them. It tossed their hair and chilled their skin. The boy didn't let it catch his attention, but the man seemed distracted by the change. Still, that didn't stifle his retort.

"The heat's gotten to you, boy. Best get out of my way. I aim for a drink, and I mean to get it."

The boy was not intimidated. Now was the time to act. He knew what this man was about, and he would not stand for it—not in his world!

Without preparation, the boy rushed forward with feral ire spewing from his mouth, relying on his anger to propel him into the fight, and he did not give thought to the fact that he had no weapon. He lashed out at the dark man, managing to land a hit against his face, but he was not able to do much damage before he was thwarted. Age and experience had the upper hand, and it did not take much effort before the boy fell to the ground after a sharp kick from a heavy boot connected with his gut.

He hit the mounded sand hard on his back, knocking the wind out of his lungs. They felt fragile as glass bursting inside him, stabbing his insides—reminding him of his mortality. He glared upward as he struggled to catch his breath, and the man only looked at him with a cold, unfeeling eye from beneath his dark hair.

"This is why I hate children," the man sneered. This remark insulted the boy. He was not that young—all of fifteen years—and he was far from a child. A hard life had taken his innocence away from him long ago, and he was sure this man had something to do with it.

"Well, go ahead," the dark man urged with a laughing smirk. "Get up and have your lesson."

The boy felt rage swelling in his muscles, his blood pumping in hot pulses at his temples as he gasped for breath. He wanted to get up—to express his dislike for the walking nightmare before him, but there was a shroud of fear encasing his heart, and he could not stand beneath the man's harsh gaze.

"Giving up?" his enemy asked. The man chuckled lowly, his voice full of gravel, which made the boy's skin crawl. "I can't remember the last time I faced such an easy opponent. You'll fight until your last breath? I suppose that has come sooner than you think."

The boy saw the man's eye drift aside, searching for the means to kill him. Following that gaze, he spotted a sizeable bone that was resting on the ground nearby. The man turned his face away as he stepped to reach for it, and the boy realized that he must not be beaten by this nightmare come to life. He had to stand! He had to—

The glowing light of the fairy caught his eye again. He had nearly forgotten about her. She was hovering near something else on the ground, drawing his attention, and the boy slowly guided his hand toward her until his fingers settled on the object, solid and warm beneath the desert sun.

The boy wrapped his hand around the rock, feeling the reliable solidity of it against his palm, and as the dark man leaned forward to grip his collar in an iron fist, holding the bone high to strike him, the boy swung the rock with as much strength as his muscles would allow, cracking the man's kneecap.

The dark man yelled in pain and surprise, but the result was good enough for the boy. The man lost his balance, going down to his knee. Though he raised the bone again, the boy was quick, not finished, and he pulled himself to his feet, ramming his knee against the man's chin as his other leg was struck with the bone. The force was not as much as it could have been.

Pain shot down though his calf, but the boy merely clenched his teeth through it. With his enemy downed, the boy saw his chance. He was smaller and faster, drawing himself over the man quickly. With a fierce gleam in his eye, he dashed the rock against the side of his opponent's head, breaking the skin.

His enemy was slowed by the blow, disoriented. The man's eye turned in, unfocused, his fingers unable to hold the bone. A stream of blood had shot forth, vibrant and red, the color of life. It ran down the side of his face, and with that image, the boy recalled an echo of what the fairy had tried to erase from his mind. The screams, the blood... Yes, he knew exactly who this man was and what he had done.

"You killed them," the boy said, his eyes wide with the realization.

Tears came to his eyes for the truth, springing up like the water that had so recently cleansed him. Perhaps he was as much to blame for being unable to save them, but his teeth clenched in anger, his hatred focused on this dark man before him. The pain in his mind was unbearable, and this one would suffer for it.

You killed me.

"You bastard!" the boy shouted, his face twisted in agony. "You fucking bastard!"

For a brief moment, the boy saw an inkling of something familiar in the man's face—something that reminded him of himself—just before bringing the rock down repeatedly against his enemy's head, breaking his skull apart.