“This necklace will keep you safe, you must never remove it.” Syra’s mother took a breath, “Earlier today, King Artius called for a cleansing of all Luanthians within Tavari, to commence during the highest point of the full moon. We are no longer safe within this kingdom, Syra.”
“Are we leaving mama—”
“No, my little shadow. It is too late to leave. You must listen closely to me and do not interrupt, do you understand?”
Syra nodded once.
“From this day forward, you will no longer pray to Lua, you will no longer call yourself Luanthian. If anyone asks you, you are and have always been Solerian. Your parents, who both loved you very dearly, died of The Fever. You mustneverallow anyone to see your shadows, promise me Syra. You have no magic, you are not Goddess blessed.”
“Mama I don’t understand—”
Syra jumped as a loud scream ripped through the night air. Her mothers face drained of all color, as she swiftly pulled Syra from the bed, clumsily stuffing the young girl's feet into her boots, “Repeat it to me,now.”
Her voice was harsh and frantic but not unkind, which confused Syra even more.
“I am Solerian, I was born Solerian,” Syra began hesitantly, her mothers worried eyes encouraging her to continue, “My parents, who loved me very much, died from The Fever. I have no magic–never mention the shadows.”
Her mother pulled her tightly into her arms, kissing her head, her cheeks, “Very good, my love. Now you must do one more thing for me, okay? It is the most important of all. You must leave and you must run to Mrs. Sommers house, the lady who gives us potions when we’re sick to help us feel better. You remember the way, yes?”
“Yes mama, I remember, but when will you come?” Syra fought the tears that threatened to flow from her eyes, as her mother buttoned up her worn coat, all the way to her throat. Syra had always hated it when she buttoned it up so high, it was suffocating, but she held in the complaints now.
“I will always be with you, my little shadow.” She watched as her mother hurried to pack a small bag. Syra knew she hadn’t answered the question, but she did not dare ask again.
A loud banging at the door caused both Syra and her mother to jump.
“This is the Solerian Royal Guard! In the name of King Artius Soliel, the one chosen by our Goddess Soli and rightful ruler of Tavari, we command you to open the door!”
Her mother rushed to the single window in the small room, quietly opening it as she gestured frantically to the little girl frozen in fear.
“Come here Syra,hurry.”The little girl obliged, protests on her lips as she was hoisted up onto the sill, the small bag her mother had packed slung across her little body.
“You will run and you will run fast,” her mother instructed quietly, straightening the little girl's coat. “You will stop for no one and you will stick to the alleyways and the shadows, do you understand?”
Her mother held her small shaking shoulders, as she looked deep into Syra’s grey eyes, as if to memorize the girl's face. She waited until Syra nodded in acknowledgment to her instructions before she pulled her into a tight hug, voice shaking as she asked, “What do we always say? One last time and then you must never repeat it aloud.”
The pounding at the door continued, voices growing louder.
Syra, her little voice cracking, spoke softly. “My name is Syra Lunatici, blessed follower of the Goddess Lua. I am shadow-blessed and I do not fear the light nor her wrath.”
“Very good, my little shadow,” her mother whispered softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “I love you, Syra.”
Before she could say it back, Syra was falling. Falling as her mothers pained face peered down at her.
It wasn't until Syra let out a shaky cry as her small body landed safely in a pile of cold snow, that her mothers head disappeared from the window, followed by the muffled click of the window latch locking. The cold soaked through her old and ragged clothes as she lay still, momentarily dazed by the events she had just endured. Remembering her mothers instructions, she crawled to her hands and knees. Still she held her tears in as she tiptoed to the street, peering nervously around a corner. The scene before her caused a small gasp to escape her lips.
Many of her neighbors were lined up in the street, a crowd of silver, white, and the palest of blonde hair. Those who weren’t, watched inhorror from behind their curtained windows. She recognized a little girl from her classes at school, hair so white it was nearly iridescent in the moonlight and her skin a deep black against the snow littered landscape—her little fist was clutched in her mother’s skirts as she stared around fearfully.
A hush fell over the crowd, however, as Marianna Lunatici was dragged by her silver hair out into the street.
Her mother.
She took a step forward, but hesitated. Her mother said she mustrunto Mrs. Sommers. How could she leave though?
She stood, frozen to that little dark corner of the alley, her shadows pressing and urging her to back up further, tohide.
Run. Run. Run.
They hissed frantically in her mind.
