A Whisper of Shadows Part 4
A new fantastical tale full of magic and shadows - what happens when the shadows whisper
If you’re just joining us, hop back to part 1.
Chenna jerked awake, lifting her head from the spot of drool she’d left on the table. She rubbed her bleary eyes. Through the window, the sky had turned a bruised shade of purple. The room now flickered with the simulated candlelight that lit the rooms in the citadel. The sun had set while she dozed, and someone turned on the pair of ancient sconces without waking her.
She blinked, trying to figure out what had woken her besides the crick in her neck. She twisted her head back and forth. A door closed somewhere nearby and footsteps — more than one person — headed towards her room before pausing just outside her line of sight. The guard on her door listened to words spoken too quietly for Chenna to hear. Mikan had left, replaced by Taki’s cousin, Jebal. He glanced at her, then back at the person in the hallway.
The doorway formed a square of brightness compared to the dimness in the interrogation room, and Jebal’s shadow crept her way, blending with the dark floor.
Chenna sighed and closed her eyes — maybe if she couldn’t see the shade, it wouldn’t speak to her.
“See the new chain around his neck?” it said. “He steals from the inmates.”
“Stop it.” Her voice was louder than she expected, and Jebal frowned at her. “It’s not like it helps me,” she murmured as she clasped her hands over her ears and hung her head. But it was no use.
“Ask him about it. It’ll put him off. It might even help you escape.”
But Chenna didn’t get the chance to ask him, as Adept Racha shouldered her way past him.
A frown carved deep lines the woman’s face. She stood uneasy just inside the door.
“She’s worried,” Racha’s shadow whispered.
“So, what did you find?” Chenna didn’t want to ask, given what the shadow said, but she needed to know.
Racha clasped her hands behind her back. “We found the puppeteer’s wife, under the jula tree, just as you said.”
Chenna exhaled and her shoulders dropped. “So you believe me?”
Racha nodded but her dour expression didn’t change. “Lucky for you, we also found proof of the puppeteer’s guilt. When we presented it to him, he confessed.”
Chenna stood, a smile she couldn’t contain taking hold of her lips. “So I’m free to go?” She had so much to finish before she left for the capital.
Adept Racha’s frown deepened. “No, not yet. Unfortunately —” She stopped short as another pair of staccato footsteps approached. Her voice dropped to a whisper when she continued, he eyes catching Chenna’s. “Unfortunately the Principle Witch Hunter had already been called. I couldn’t stop him coming for an accusation of witchcraft … given we just declared victory over the witches.”
Chenna’s smile wavered as the hope curdled in her stomach. A form stepped into the doorway, blocking the light from the hallway. Racha stepped to the side, admitting the gaunt spectre of the Principle Witch Hunter for the entire region.
The man’s face was long, and his expression severe. “Adept Racha,” he said, his gaze not leaving Chenna.
“Principle Loura.” Racha’s gaze landed somewhere over Chenna’s shoulder.
Chenna took a step back, but realized that the only thing behind her was a solid stone wall. She grasped the back of the chair she’d been sitting in.
“Tal Chenna.”
She didn’t make a sound.
“You have been accused of witchcraft.”
She glanced at Racha. “By a man who killed his wife, and knew I knew.” She waved her hand at Racha. “Tell him.”
“Adept?” He kept his eyes on Chenna, making her stomach crawl.
“Yes, the local constabulary have the man in custody.”
“So, I’m not a witch. He accused me because he feared me.”
“The fact that he’s guilty doesn’t mean you’re not. Maybe he feared you because you were a witch.” The man shifted closer. “It makes no difference. Every accusation of witchcraft needs to be thoroughly investigated.”
“More than murder?”
“A murderer only harms the one he kills. A witch harms us all.” He flicked his finger over his shoulder. “You can leave us, Adept.”
Racha’s mouth opened as she hesitated. “I can’t actually, Principle Loura.” The man’s cold eyes finally turned to the Adept. “Regulations specify every examination of a potential witch is witnessed and recorded.”
The Principle’s smile as he turned back to Chenna was tense and serpentine. “Of course, you’re right Adept. Just because we’ve declared victory over witches doesn’t mean we can be lax with the rules.”
The man stepped close enough Chenna could feel his breath on her skin. Her skin started to itch, like she’d been out in the sun too long. She struggled to keep the grimace she felt off her face.
He stopped at the tabled and pulled his gloves off, finger by finger.
“Hands.” He held out his hands, palms up.
Chenna blinked and stared at his palms, which were covered in symbols etched with dark ink. Her nose wrinkled as she frowned.
“Hands, palms on mine.”
“Why?” She wiped her pal,s on her dress as she glanced at him then back at his hands. Inhaling, she placed her hands on his. She couldn’t suppress the wince as her skin touched his.
“I need to test if you’re a witch.”
Chenna felt a tingle on her palms. “You test for witchcraft by touching people?”
“Yes. I touch and I concentrate.”
Her palms tickled, and she had to fight to keep from drawing her fingers into fists.
“How is that not magic?” For a second the sensation stopped. She shifted her gaze from their hands to his face and the icy anger in his eyes.
“Because I am not a witch.”
Chenna’s eyebrow twitched but she kept it from arching. Then the itch began again, intensifying to a burning. She struggled to keep her expression blank. Her jaw clenched as she focused her thoughts on her fathers and her friends, while staring at her hands.
The burning crept up her arms, but when it reached just below her inner elbow, it stopped its climb. Just below the [**add earlier**]tattoos her grandfather had given her before he was arrested. They didn’t look any different from those that decorated the arms of her friends and family, her neighbours, even the Witch Hunter’s own, except that hers were older, faded. Like a shadow.
Suddenly, the sensation stopped entirely, fleeing her arms in a wave of pins and needles. She stopped herself from sighing with relief when Principle Witch Hunter Loura pulled his hands away.
He glared at her as he drew his gloves back on.
Slowly, she drew her hands back, placing them against her stomach. “I passed your test.” She made it a statement, not a question. “I’m not a witch.”
“I know about your grandfather, Tal Chenna.”
“But I am not a witch.” She continued when he stayed silent. “Am I free to go then? I have a lot to do before I go.”
“Yes, you’ve been accepted to the Royal Academy.”
She pressed her lips together.
“You’re free to go,” he said, then turned to leave. He paused at the door. “But we’ll be watching. We can’t have witches coming back.”
As he left, Chenna noticed his shadow for the first time. It puddled at his feet, limp and listless. When he started to move again, it dragged behind him like a dead animal.
Finally, she exhaled. Her eyes met Adept Racha’s. A small smile flickered on the Adept’s lips before being replaced by a frown as she followed the Principle Witch Hunter out the door.
Chenna jumped up onto the platform at the rear of the train. The car had lots of empty seats, yet she plopped onto the platform — to catch her breath, she told herself but it also let her get a last look at the city … and to avoid the mass of confined shadows for as long as possible.
Her chest burned from her run to catch the train. She’d dallied too long saying goodbye to her dads, then hugged Taki and Siema too many times. Which meant she’d had to run pellmell through the streets to get to the station.
Under her, the train started to vibrate as it built up energy to start the journey to the capital.
She clutched her bag to chest as she stared at her city. Her town. Her home. Chenna’s stomach fluttered. She’d never been further than Cierna, the next city over, and that was on a school visit to the regional capital with Siema and Taki at her side.
She sniffed and wiped her eyes with her scarf.
A few stragglers, even later than her, hustled towards the train as it slowly started to move.
Chenna gasped. One of them was Witch Hunter Adept Racha. A small smile crept onto her lips. The Adept caught her eyes and returned the smile as she shift her bag onto her shoulder as she sped up. Chenna’s expression fell at the sight of Adept Racha’s black gloves. She’d always assumed they were part of the uniform; now she wondered if they hid tattoos like those of the Principle Witch Hunter. A magical touch that could expose a witch.
Then the sun dimmed, matching her sudden shift of mood, and Chenna shivered. When it started to became full dark despite being midday, she glanced up.
Jina had eclipsed the sun. Chenna frowned. Surely Dalin would have been over the moon — figuratively — about an upcoming eclipse. Her brother loves astronomy, only second to bell dancing.
Despite the darkness, the trees cast long shadows that loom towards her like a skeletal of grasping arms. She inhaled sharply, the exhaled to dislodge the idea.
Bad tidings, her grandfather always said. She squinted at the eclipse. Small Galen was nowhere to be seen. She shifted her scarf to wrap more tightly around her shoulders.
“That doesn’t bode well,” a voice beside her said, one tremulous with age.
Chenna froze. She knew that voice even though she hadn’t heard it in years. Slowly she turned her head, sliding her gaze sideways.
“Be careful in the capital, Chenna.” Her grandfather gave her a sad smile. “A great darkness is coming.”
She exhaled unevenly. Maybe she was going crazy after all. She squeezed her eyes closed, swallowed, then opened them again.
Her grandfather was gone. So was the eclipse. She glanced around. Agent Racha had finally caught up with the train, along with the other stragglers. They pushed past Chenna to get into the car, stepping on the spot her grandfather had been. Only Racha paid her any notice, giving a sidelong glance. No one looked up, no one marvelled at the eclipse — it dawned on her that had been a figment of her imagination as well.
But a worm in her stomach asked, what if her grandfather’s shade was right.
What was darker than an Empress bent on killing all the witches … and finding yourself a witch?
Chenna clutched her bag to her chest like a shield as the train finally started to pick up speed, leaving her home behind.
I hope you enjoyed this short story even though it’s a bit different from our usual fare. As I mentioned, it may turn into something more in future — I have ideas, maybe space magic ideas. In the meantime, if you enjoy our stories, please consider subscribing.
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