Chapter One
TheGrey
Beads of sweat trickled down the boy’s forehead as the hoe hit the hardened ground. Calloused hands gripped the wooden handle with what little strength he had left. Tilling at this hour was pure torture. The sun beat down upon his thinly clothed back and bit his skin. If only he could rest until the heat subsided . . . But father wouldn’t take kindly to that, so the boy continued turning the soil. The corn seeds needed to be planted by week’s end.
“You must be exhausted working in this heat.”
A stranger’s voice touched the boy’s ears.
Looking up from his task, he shielded his eyes against the sun’s glare and made out a darkened figure leaning against the fence railing. Usually strangers didn’t venture this far out of town. The male’s blue hair was bright, though his tunic and pants were dark and somewhat odd looking.
While the boy didn’t feel threatened by the stranger’s sudden appearance, there was something off about the way he smiled—his eyes were empty of the joyful emotion he portrayed with his lips.
“Yes, sir. I am. But I don’t mind.”
The stranger scoffed as he dug the toe of his boot into the dusty soil. “Are you always made to do this toilsome work in the middle of the day? In this heat?”
Hesitating briefly, the boy nodded.
“Doesn’t seem very fair, does it?”
The boy shrugged. “Papa said I have to work hard so I grow up to be big and strong—and I have school in the mornings, so this is the only time I can do it.”
It was true. Every weekday morning started early, with making himself a meagre breakfast, feeding the family cow, then heading off to school for a few hours in the village. Lunchtime was for tending to his father’s fields. Sometimes Papa would join him, but the boy usually preferred when he didn’t. His father was never in the best of moods. Not since mother died.
The stranger shifted his weight as he leant against the railing. “Surely you should be allowed to work under cooler conditions—perhaps at the end of the day?”
“Papa would be mad if I didn’t get my chores done in time.”
“Does he always get mad?”
The boy glanced down at the dusty brown earth below his boots and slowly nodded.
The stranger sighed. “What are you doing after you finish your chores?”
Looking up, the boy smiled. “Today is my choosing day, so I plan to visit the temple and toss a coin into the water.”
“How fun. Do you have a kingdom in mind?” the stranger asked.
The boy shoved one hand into his pocket and shrugged. “I think so.”
“Well, I know which kingdom you could choose.”
The boy eyed the stranger in eagerness. “And which one would that be, sir?”
“The one that lets you thrive in the shadows.”
Feeling confused, the boy cocked his head to the side. “How does one thrive in the shadows?”
The stranger stood tall and glanced around at the surroundings. His eyes rested at the base of a wooden fence post.
“See that small bunch of blossoms there?”
Looking towards a spike of cheerful bells that had grown limp in the heat, the boy nodded.
“See how they wilt beneath the heat of the sun? Too much light can do that to you. It can bring you down, tire you out and leave you there to wither and die,” the stranger went on. “Look at the purple violets by that tree. Look at how they bob their pretty little heads in the shade. The sun cannot touch them there and they are thriving. Much like when you rest at night beneath the night’s sky. The shadows of night, absent of light, can soothe you and bring you rest. Oscuro can offer you that.”
“How do you know?”
