Sebestian Knight
I have never much liked colours. In fact, whenever I have to describe a certain pigment for workers to achieve a shade for their works, I would simply tell them 'daylight'. It's a name that I came up with myself- to describe all the colours that are too bright, that manifest my soul with their intensity and glow.
All brilliant hues of red, orange, yellow and then the slightly cooler splash of blue, green and purple. All of them give me a headache and none of them deserve their own name.
Right now, the colour of daylight starts to thread into the seams of the sky, slowly weaving their way in and inking the canvass with their respective shades. Turning my eyes away from the scene with disguist, I reach for a canteen of water in my bag and take a sip. The refreshing droplets eases a sigh from me as I place the cap back, reluctant to see it disappear from my line of view but also reminding myself that I need to preserve it.
I don't know how long the journey will be and the compass that I managed to find that guides travellers according to how light plays out against the ground is making me doubtful. In any other situation, I would have ditched the compass instantly but I am left with little choice under the hot son and solar energy that radiates along Atlanta's surface.
The intricacy of the lines on the compass directs me towards the edge of my shadow, following the ray of the sun that is middle in length. The glow is blinding and the heat has started to take its toll on me. Beads of sweat lace the collar of my shirt and my only relief stems from the curtain of a shadow tugged across my body whenever I find cover under a few trees.
I don't know how long it is when I start to hear voices. They waft through the air, slowly floating and I come to a stop, unsure if it's safe for me to venture on.
"Did you find anything?"
The blood in my body turns cold as my muscles go still. The people speaking are conversing in the langauge that Solars use and not Darks. It's light and lisping, filled with emotion and curosity. Each word is soaked with a desire to want more and the tone is accentuated with a flippancy that I can only associate with colour, with light.
"Most of the equipment we used were unfit to run tests on the sediments but we collected a couple of samples and made some notes."
Their voices sound as if they're drawing further from me. If I want to go or stay, I need to make the decision now. Following them would allow me to at least have a guide as to where I'm headed but it would also throw me in a dangerous position.
Staying here is no better. Both options seem bleak but I know one of them gives me a better chance of reaching my citizens in time. Despite the way my heart itches for me to stay put, I force myself to keep moving forward, towards the direction of the noise.
I can't let any of them know who I am. I need to put up a front and pretend that I have lost my way. I need to get rid of the tone, the rise and fall in my voice that labels me as a Dark and speak their language.
As I approach a murky shadow of a group, I feel a rush of anxiety and fear, the miscible emotions embracing my windpipe and squeezing a gasp of hesitance when I am finally in the group's line of view.
There are seven of them, standing around with heavy equipment and discussing. As I clear my throat, I notice that the sky overhead is a spread of darkness. Have I really walked for that long? Or maybe this is already part of Atlanta inhabited by the Solars.
"Dude, stop." The Solars instantly fall silent as they note my presence. Hoping that the darkness will be able to hide the flush slowly looming across my features, I force the words out.
"Sorry, I'm a little lost. Do you know where the Plaza is?" When I was younger, my father forced me to read books about Solars. Those books were brimming with details and information about a regular Solars' life and the popular places that is in their region of Atlanta. To this day, the information is still stuck in my head like a stubborn stain.
The Solars shoot me horrified looks as if I have said something wrong.
"What's the matter?" Do they detect a trace of my Dark accent or are they suspicious of the way I move so freely in the dark, the way I am able to ease myself into the shadows that crawl across the ground?
"Have you been living under a rock? Why on Atlanta would you want to go to the Plaza?" One of them questions, his voice interlaced with shock.
Realising that I'm trudging carelessly along dangerous ground, I pull myself back together confidently.
"Just wanted to work out the details of the accident. Notice that you guys have been doing some physical work too, huh?" Their equipment gives away far too much and the puzzle pieces that I receive might not be sufficient but it gives me a brief idea of what they're doing.
They're here for the fissure in the ground. It seems strange that I didn't bump into them earlier but I dismiss that thought.
"That's right. We wanted to gather specimens on the sediments along the land and study it." Another Solar answers loosely, obviously dismissing the idea of me as a thteat. The other Solars, however, aren't as ready as him to deem that possibility unreal.
"Shut up, Kirk."
"You didn't answer the question properly. What are you doing here?" The Solar who shushes Kirk- the short Solar at the back who has the most equipment binded across his shoulders, asks.
"Got a little lost searching for the hole." I draw my hand along my hairline, hoping that my facade of bashfulness is enough to throw them off, "Couldn't find my way back."
"C'mon, guys. Let's just lead him back to the Plaza and we can get to our things from there." The Solar who says this stretches her hand out towards me, a smile curving the lines of her lips, "I'm Luna."
I have to hold back the laughter and stifle the joy that struggles to leap onto my face. A Dark name for a Solar- how amusing is that?
I give her a polite nod but don't return her handshake. It is only when I glance at her arm, extended to me, do I realise that there are tiny markings that stain her skin. Dark swirls and loops that spiral along her wrists and bend up along her elbow.
I pretend that the glimpse of her arm I get reveals nothing, "You can call me Luke." Using my real name would be a risk that I'm not willing to take.
"Awesome, Luke. That's Kirk right there- he's the youngest of us all." Luna nods at the Solar struggling with the instruments that bears down on his back and goes on to introduce the others.
Their names are a jumble of letters that I refuse to learn, deciding that my priority is to make it back to my side of Atlanta and I take a good skim at the Solars before me, trying not to let a look of disinterest slip onto my face.
That's when I see him.
He's older, obviously. But it's almost like nothing has changed, other than the sharper slant of his jawline and the curiosity, the wonder that fills his bright blue eyes. His golden hair stands perfectly and his body is lean, with muscular legs that slide him into a comfortable stance.
Edward Kenning.
Even the way his name sounds in my head fills me with dread and I have to avert my eyes immediately.
I thought I could chase away those demons. I thought that they would eventually leave as I grew older.
But I guess they never do leave because standing a few feet before me, watching me with a mixture of thick awe and wonder, is Edward Kenning.
My greatest fear.
Word Count: 1412 Words
A/N: Thanks for reading! Don't be afraid to tell me what you think and as usual, every vote, comment and share is appreciated!