Page 48 of The Shadowed Oracle
“Right, of course. More delightful advantages to growing up in a world you’re not supposed to be in.”
“Don’t tell me you’re afraid?’ Tyla’s nose crinkled. “Because you shouldn’t be. You’re a fucking Oracle, Ingrid. If we ever get you to Ealis, you’d be able to eatbullets for breakfast in just a few days. Hell, if for some reason we’re thrown into the fire over there—” Her tone here indicated a joke, but Ingrid didn’t find it funny. “It’s possible, under the right circumstances, you could have your full power within a week. Or, so the old texts say.”
“A week?” Ingrid gripped the back of her neck. “But if being stranded on Earth all my life stunted the awakening of my apparent power, then how would being in Ealis affect me so quickly?”
“It’s not an exact?—"
“And inversely,” Ingrid cut off her new mentor. “If living here siphons power, then wouldn’t Makkar’s minions be weakened by being here on Earth too?”
Tyla shook her head. “Doesn’t work like that. Viator born and raised in Ealis basked in its power at pivotal ages. They are nearly immune to Earth’s effect. As for us, think of it like… like a time change,” Tyla said it like she’d stumbled upon a brilliant analogy, but then frowned after seeing Ingrid’s expression was still contorted by questions.
“It’s not that complex, really,” she beat on, swatting away her student’s concern. “A world-walker who’s spent even a day in Ealis wouldn’t start to run out of their base abilities—regeneration, heightened senses—for years on Earth. But for an Earth-born that’s never been, to tap into anyspecialpowers they might have, then that Viator would need to spend a good amount of time in Ealis. Anywhere from a few months to a few years.”
“Unless that Viator is… thrown into the fire?”
“Correct. Survival instincts can speed up the process. If Ealis senses you need it, she might provide.”
“Great.” Ingrid let out another heavy breath. “Not complex at all.” At this rate, she thought, she would never be informed of the basics by tomorrow. She’d need weeks, months. Years, preferably.
Slimy, sickly futility infected her now, and as a defense mechanism she continued to fixate on what was right in front of her. Her fingers, hands, arms, legs—and again, the tattoos.
“Let’s make this simple,” Tyla said, sensing her student’s frustration. “Forget about guns. We don’t need to worry about them, even while your power is still Earth-withered. You’re more likely to run into a Viator wielding a kitchen knife than a gun.” She rounded herself to look at some of Dean’s mother’s machines. “Ealis is nothing like Earth. The people raised there have never seen technology, even old shit-boxes like these. Viator have, let’s say, a strong distaste for modernity.”
Tyla paused here, noticing Ingrid wasn’t exactly riveted.
“Am I boring you?” Tyla asked mawkishly.
“Yes—I mean no. What was the question?”
Tyla palmed her face.
“Sorry, Ms. Tyla,” Ingrid said jokingly, but almost immediately thought better of it. “That was rude. You’re trying to save my life, the least I could do is listen. Please, go on. The distaste for guns and all that.”
With sloth-like speed, Tyla removed her hand from her face and sat down on one of the shorter filing cabinets nearby. Despite her obvious exhaustion, that glowing grin was still emanating from her.
“It’s not just guns,” she said with a sigh. “Any technology, modern warfare, they consider it all to be below them. Their world is like a God to them, so human inventions are considered sacrilegious.”
Detestable things.
Ingrid had another involuntary flashback, recalling the Wrane’s words right before it crushed her phone to bits. It made sense now, how disgusted it was that she owned a phone.
“Holy shit.” A realization snapped together like a puzzle piece. “So, if they see using technology as heretical, then whoever was sending me the messages must’ve been different than the average Viator. We could use that, right?”
“Definitely. It’s safe to assume that any Ealis-born wouldn’t resort to it. You can probably cross them off your list of suspects.” Tyla considered. “I mean, an argument could be made for one of the younger, more rebellious soldiers who’ve been here on Earth before. But even then, that wouldn’t explain going after that man.”
“Kyle. His name was Kyle,” Ingrid cut in, an odd sympathy for the victimized man overtaking her. His demise, after all, had been partly because of his association with her.
“Yes, Kyle,” Tyla corrected herself. “It would be odd for any Viator soldier to stray that far from their mission. My guess,it was someone born on Earth who sent you those messages. Makkar took a page from Karis’s handbook and began recruiting world-walkers some time ago, so there’s your perp profile. These are people, like you, who had no idea where they came from, no answer for why they felt so misplaced, so miserable. People that, for lack of a better term, are fucked in the head.”
Ingrid didn’t need any further explanation on why that might be. “Are we all followed by Shades?” she asked. “Even you?”
“Even me.” Tyla reached for the bun she’d tied her hair in, tightening it. “There’s no easier target for a Shade than a wandering Viator disconnected from the source of their power. And sadly, most of them are all too willing to give up their bodies to escape from the torture. If only they knew that formless, shadowy thing that made them suicidal… sought life above all. Right at the moment a Viator decides to end it, to give up, the Shade can move in. But Dean probably told you all this, right?”
Ingrid cocked her head, trying to recall. Dean had told her about the Shades and what they wanted, but he hadn’t gone into detail about how they achieved it. “So they need a willing participant?”
Tyla nodded somberly.
“That’s horrible,” Ingrid said, although a complicated exhilaration, like the first moments descending into cold water washed over her. She’d always felt the dire need to hold on to her sanity while under attack, but she hadn’t known how dangerous it really was.
