Page 18 of The Shadows Beyond
“Exactly. Those few people who walked around shouting about it or showing off were swiftlydealt with,the outcome varying by the country they lived in. Some were killed for witchcraft, and elsewhere, lots were sent to research facilities. Eventually, a committee was set up to study those affected. And the eventual discovery…”
Noir tapped the slab of rock three times. Radiant light beamed out from it, though the source wasn’t evident—it seemed to come from the circular stone itself. Within the bright beams, tiny specks ofsomethingfloated. Darted about in random directions. Vibrated, even.
Mesmerised, Cinn reached for them, his eyes flicking to Noir’s for permission. He nodded, so Cinn’s fingers threaded through the air, trying fruitlessly to catch the strange dust-like specks that were clearly… alive? “Are these… motes?”
“Yes. These are lumenmotes. This particular stone device attracts them. Anyone can activate the tablet, see?” Noir tapped it three times, and the light faded.
“You don’t have to be moteblessed?”
“It depends on the motetech, but for this one, no. In a few hours, those stone columns you saw lining our paths will activate and emit light until dawn.”
“Saves on your electric bill, I guess.”
Noir snorted. “You have quite the sense of humour, young man. But, back to our conversation. What next, what next?” He looked quite lost for a moment, and Cinn shifted in his chair until finally he declared, “The discovery of motes changed everything.” To which Cinn fought back an eye roll. “At first, we were just passive observers of motes. We studied them relentlessly, documenting their many forms, and theorising about their sudden appearance and the nature of their existence. Then,as time went on, we began to wield them. With enough innate skill and practice, we learned we could synthesise them, infuse them into material, bend them to our will.” Noir’s voice reached a dramatic cadence as he gesticulated wildly.The man belongs on a stage.
Reaching out carefully, Cinn tapped the stone tablet himself, wanting to study the lumenmotes again, to settle his reeling mind. “How does this all relate to my condition, though? These light ones are the first motes I’ve ever seen.”
“Are they?” Noir peered at him and waited. Relit his pipe and gave another deep pull.
“Yes.” But his irritated reply didn’t rattle Noir, who continued to stare. Cinn watched the little light flecks dance in the brightness created by the stone. Something about the way they moved reminded him of something. “No…” he said slowly, as if waking up from a dream.
“Go on.”
“I have seen them before,” he whispered. “In the dark place.”
“When you’ve shadowslipped?”
“The ones there aren’t as… bright and friendly. I think I thought they were bits of floating ash or something. To be honest, whenever I end up there, I’m solely focused on getting back to reality as quickly as possible. But they do move in the same drifty way.”
“This reminds me,” said Noir, ruffling around in his drawer again. “We’re going to spend a lot of sessions together unpicking the specifics of your ability, but until you’ve mastered it, there’s something I can give you which should largely reduce the amount of unwanted slips into the shadowrealm.” He presented Cinn with a long thin rectangular object, made of smooth, shiny golden metal. “Any wrist will do.”
Confused but too tired to question, Cinn offered his left arm. To his surprise, Noir bent the solid-looking metal around his wrist, joining the band with an audibleclick.“Blimey,” he muttered,lurching his hand back to touch the bangle for himself. It was rock solid, with no sign ofany clasp. It seemed to have shaped itself to Cinn’s skinny wrist, because it wouldn’t slide off his hand. The seamless metal band was alarmingly warm, and something in it hummed with energy.
“How do I get it off?” he snapped at Noir. He’d been slowly warming to the eccentric fellow, but his lack of consent for this permanent adornment to his body had pissed him off.
“Relax,” Noir said, offering Cinn his pipe. He refused—God only knew what the codger was smoking. “Hold the band in your hand for a few moments. Let it know that you want to remove it. It will expand, and come off easily.”
“Let it know?”Cinn repeated, but Noir had already moved on to sliding him a stack of books.Bigbooks. Heavy books. Books Cinn wouldn’t have a hope in hell of reading.
His heart rate shot through the roof.
“I’m not really the best read—”
An alarm blared, piercingly loud. Not the sound of ringing metal. Not the electronic beeping of the fire alarms of his schooldays. It was the most peculiar screeching sound that seemed to be coming from everywhere and nowhere at once.
Noir, panic written all over his face, bolted out of his chair with alarming haste.
“What is it?” Cinn asked as Noir pulled on his coat.
“Evacuation order. Now. Follow me and stay close.”
A moment later, Cinn was sprinting down the tower’s spiral staircase, chasing after Noir, surprisingly nimble for one of his age. When they reached a corridor with the tube-like elevators, Noir grabbed the collar of his coat and thrust him into it with him, pulling Cinn’s body close against his. Cinn closed his eyes, but his stomach still dropped out of his body as they plummeted to the bottom level at disturbing speed.
All around the lobby, others were also evacuating—hurrying to the doors, gripped by a grim panic that Cinn couldn’t help but internalise himself.
This was not an everyday event.
“Noir!” someone shouted. “The Cerulean Auditorium is under attack. All hands on deck.”
