The left half of the sea was dark and furious, the wind raging, the white waves tossed about until they exploded upon the sand.
The right half was calm. A gentle ocean of dark waves. They barely kissed the shore as the wind danced like a delicate thing, in time with a song that was unheard.
Both sides collided against each other. One crashing furiously, the other gently lapping.
Together, the sounds made a word.
Choose.
But he’d already chosen.
The grey sand was warm beneath Karr’s bare feet. He wiggled his toes, feeling as if he were home.
“It is far more interesting than the last place,” a voice said. Delicate, like the tinkling of bells or a wedding song. “Memories are fascinating things. You never know what sort of picture they might paint.”
Karr turned, and there she was.
The child made of starlight. He hadn’t the chance to look at her closely, the last time he met her in the half-place. But now he saw her in full. Little glowing planets rotated across her skin as if she were their axis. They swam through the starlight that made up her long coils of glowing hair, then danced across her collarbone, into her arms and her fingertips and back again.
“I chose,” Karr said.
The child rose a shimmering brow. “Did you?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I guess not.” He glanced back at the half-sea. “What is this place?”
“The center of us all.” She pointed her finger at Karr’s hand. “May I?”
He lifted his palm and held it out to her.
A tendril of starlight shot from her fingertip, a tiny galaxy stretched like a rubber band. Heat seared his skin as the starlight sliced a cut along his palm, drawing that strange, ghostly black blood. It soared off into the sky, half splitting towards the white sea. The other, barreling towards the dark.
“The shadows,” Karr said. “What are they?”
The child laughed. Her eyes were like nebulas, swirling with colors he could not even name. She motioned for him to follow, and together they walked along the grey shore. The half-sea followed them,always crashing in part darkness and part light, always keeping them in the center of the two. “Not shadows, my heart. They are tendrils of soul. They dance within us, always keeping the balance. Half-darkness. Half-light. It is what sets the Shadowbloods apart. What keeps them worthy.”
“Shadowbloods?” Karr asked.
“Yes, my heart. It is your second chance.” Her smile was tired. The starlight that made up her skin seemed to dim, some of the lights winking out, some of the planets growing still. They walked in silence for a time.
Karr knew he was asleep, lost inside of his dreams. But it felt real, the warmth on his bare toes, the stinging pain on his palm, the little scab of black beginning to form over his cut.
They stopped when shapes began to form in the distance.
A castle the color of sand, on the fringes of a city that unspooled towards the sea. Like a child’s seaside creation; a fortress that felt vaguely familiar to him, as if he’d seen it in a storybook, flipping past the pages with his mother and father before their lives were cut short. He gazed at it for a time, wishing he could run to it. Lose himself inside of the castle halls, discover the secrets that waited within.
“What is this place?” Karr asked the child.
“Memories,” she said. “Every Shadowblood has them.”
“But they aren’t mine,” Karr said.
“My dear lost soul.” The girl’s nebula eyes met his, and there was sadness within her gaze. “You do not remember. But there is one who does. Soon you’ll discover the truth. When you do, you must be ready.”
“For what?” Karr asked.
The star child smiled. “The end, my heart. You must be ready for the end of the end, where there will be another choice. And this time, you must choose a side.”
She reached out, placing her fingertip upon his chest.
