She worried all night and into the morning, twisting and turning in her sheets, listening to the grandfather clock announce each new hour. The ticking stirred a familiarity, as though her senses were remembering what her mind could not. She strained to follow this sense of familiarity to its root, but was unsuccessful. The sound was an acquaintance of which she couldn't remember the name.
Finally, the clock chimed eight and she stumbled out of bed, re-tying her silver robe and dragging herself towards the door. From there, along a narrow corridor, down a rickety flight of stairs, through a set of swinging doors and into the tavern.
She burst into another world, one where everything was brighter, more colourful, more 'unapologetic'. Paradise Tavern had no walls, no lights, no floors. Instead, skeletal pillars held the structure together, between which the morning sun angled through in shafts. The floor was a carpet of soft sand and the cool sea breeze floated in and out as freely as the people, who came and went as they pleased.
They wore silver robes like Ash's and were a motley bunch, with scars, blotches, tattoos and missing limbs. In the corner, two middle aged men sat on boulders, playing an intense game of chess. One of the men had three missing fingers, so that each time he went to pick up his queen, he had to do so in a pincering motion, like a crab. The other had a missing upper lip, which twitched with each turn.
A group of adolescents sat cross-legged on the beach playing lazy melodies on hand-crafted guitars and drums, the overall effect sounding like a drunken mosquito with a broken wing. Children chased each other across the beach, their silver robes sodden and clinging to their bodies, wet hair flicking in all directions. One straggly child gripped Ash around the legs, yelling, "Help me, help me," before whirling away in a fit of giggles while his friend chased him with a bouquet of seaweed.
She felt a curt tap to her shoulder and swivelled to catch an eyeful of bright orange robes. Gunner took a step back when she turned, eyes widening. "Oh, it's just you, Sprout. For a second I thought you were... " His voice trailed off in the same way Miki's had done the night before and he cleared his throat. "Best be getting started with yer training."
He strode out of the tavern and towards the beach. Ash followed close behind, uneasiness returning with his sudden change in demeanour. But a distraction of white sand, brilliant blue sky and wrinkled blue water muted her unease and left her, wide-eyed and gawking.
Gunner spread his arm. "Welcome to Paradise Island, Sprout. Bit different from the Palace, don't you think?"
She nodded slowly, drinking in as much of the view as possible. Fairy floss clouds drifted overhead, a pale backdrop against the silhouettes of circling seabirds. In the distance, white-crested waves nibbled hungrily at the powdery sand. Where the tide had receded, little undulations pooled with water, making perfect sanctuaries for small shells and crustaceans.
Gunner began talking, though Ash found herself listening with half an ear. The rest of her was trying to take in every colour, every shape, every movement of her surrounds.
"Oroton found this island in its infancy. Seismic activity forced the seabed up, exposing the rich volcanic soil to the air. It was the perfect sanctuary for our people—the only island of its kind yet unknown by the Establishment. We've been here for four years now, living off what the island provides, completely undisturbed."
A crab skittered across a curvy undulation in the sand, racing from one bubbling hole to the next under the patient watching shadow of a lanky bird. With one dramatic swoop of its neck, the bird made a crunchy snack of the crab's shell. Where white sand met the rainforest, turning brown, tree saplings wobbled on their spindly stalks. Their parents stood watching from behind, tall and proud, their thick canopies umbrellas to the harshest of the sun's rays.
"You might've seen reports in the city about the drastic increase in attacks by the Slayer gang and the consequential disappearances. What the Establishment haven't told us is that these 'disappearances' are usually 'wanted' individuals, troublemakers who have caused some unexplainable 'incidents' in their workplaces. People like you with special talents who they try to dispose of before we can find you and bring you here."
This news should've been a shock. But she was distracted by the gentle breeze tickling teardrop leaves and the slithering stream that ran out of the forest, parting the sand in two, before merging and flowing out to sea in a mushroom of brown sediment. Anything seemed possible in this place.
"Everyone here is like me?" she asked.
Gunner nodded. "There's been a rise in the number of young people like yourself showing abilities with the forces. We're yet to discover why. Oroton believes it's nature's way of attempting to control us in the same way we've attempted to control nature for so long. It's the mother's way of seeking balance in a world where the scales have been tipped."
She nodded, not fully understanding but still reeling with the concept that she could be one of many who could conjure fire with her mind. That maybe she wasn't a monster after all.
Gunner clapped her on the back, opening his mouth to say something when a voice called out from the tavern. "Gunner! You're back!"
A young woman, about Ash's age, made her way up the beach to them. She was waif thin, pale and a wracking cough stopped her in her tracks. It wasn't until she got closer, and Ash caught sight of her vivid blue fringe that she realised who the young woman was. Her stomach rolled. Freia. Sister of the boy she'd killed. Eli must've brought her here after the recruitment.
Gunner smiled. "How's it going?"
Freia slapped his arm. Ash noticed her fingernails had been sharpened into points, just like her brother's. "Nothing to wail about." She coughed. "I'm well-oiled as a toff." Her gutter slang had lost none of its harshness.
Gunner rubbed his arm in mock hurt. "Bit strong for a toff, don't you think?"
Freia smiled. "Least my name's not Peter."
Gunner gawked. "How did you—?"
Freia's smile widened so that dimples appeared on her cheeks. "Let's just say, your friend's a sop with a few drinks in him."
Gunner's jaw dropped. "Shorty," he growled.
Ash was busy trying to hide behind Gunner when he stepped aside to introduce her. "Freia, this is Sprout, our newest recruit."
Ash went stiff as a board. But Freia only had eyes for Gunner. "Let me guess, you've gotta 'work'." She made hypotheticals with her fingers.
Gunner nodded. "Gotta keep this place running somehow."
Freia sighed. "I can help. I'm not as green as they keep harping."
Gunner ruffled her hair. "Rest up. There'll be plenty of time for that."
Grumbling, Freia turned and continued down the beach, back angled towards the water, eyes darting as though at any moment, someone or something was going to spring out from between the trees and jack her. Ash knew the feeling, felt her own eyes darting from tavern to beach to forest and then back to Freia, just to make sure she truly hadn't recognised her. She tightened the ties of her robe.
Gunner waited for Freia to disappear around the cove before turning to Ash. "Freia's new," he said. "Eli asked us to look after her until her pneumonia's cleared. Said it was a favour for his friend at the trading company." He paused in thought. "She's not like us. That's why we've got to keep the things we do on this island a secret until Oroton decides if she's staying."
Ash cringed. So nobody knew who Freia really was, or what she'd done to her brother. But it only had to be a matter of time. And then what? Would she be kicked off the island too?
Gunner started off into the forest following a boardwalk that led alongside a stream. Their footsteps thumped hollow against the wood, forming a rhythmic counterpart to the gentle trickling water. Ash filled her eyes with the view of water hurdling over stones, glazing mulch, glistening with the dappled sunlight. She listened to the rustling treetops, the trilling crickets, humming bees. She felt light-headed, drunk on the smell of mud and moss.
As they pushed deeper into the forest, the tree trunks grew broader, their branches straighter, all hailing the retreating sun. And there was a sound in the air that drowned out all others—a menacing thunder of two great forces locked in a never-ending collision.
They left the boardwalk, bare feet squelching the mulch and squeezing tea-coloured water between their toes. The earth rose, and the stream became a steep, fast-flowing river. Large boulders appeared, jutting out of the river bed in clusters. They sank so deep in clay, Gunner began climbing from boulder to boulder like a crab, using his arms and legs to steady himself on the slippery surfaces.
They made their way as far as the river would allow, turned one last bend before they came to their destination. The source of the thundering. A waterfall.
Gunner thrust his arms out. "Welcome to the Terra Flora Falls," he yelled over the thundering. "Where induction will begin."
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*~*
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