Bright Flame, Deep Shadow (lesbian story)

Arabella

Before I can do or say anything to Hestia, a foul-smelling liquid is trickled over my head. I close my eyes before it reaches them; somehow, I know this will sting.

"Arabella Saethryth, I hereby curse you with the Water of Crawanna. You shall fall into the Deep Shadow, where no living soul shall touch you."

I swallow. They took my dagger. This really is it.

I close my eyes and take a deep, long, slow breath. I wonder if it'll be the last time I taste fresh air.

I hear the Shadows rip apart below me. I open my eyes and my last breath catches in my throat when I see the black hole in the fabric of the universe, gaping, waiting. Professor Aelst, the physics teacher, holds it open, her eyes cold.

Tanvik puts his boot in my back, hard, and I pitch off the stage and into the darkness. Aelst lets the Shadows close around me and then I am alone.

I'm not like Flick—it's always a lot harder for me to adjust to this world. Everything is dulled—my sight, hearing, sense of smell, everything. It's like looking at the world through thick black mesh. Flick says the space is always crowded with scraps of mesh when she's in here, but I don't see any.

I choke back a sob. Flick is probably miles away by now.

I lurch to my feet. The fall should probably have broken my kneecaps, since I landed on them. It didn't.

Tanvik is saying something, making some big speech about virtue or continuing the line of Shadow Sorcerers or whatever. I don't know, I can't hear him. I don't care, anyway. He is out there, and I am in here. He doesn't matter any more. He'll never hurt me again. That's something, I suppose.

I have to die in here, that much is obvious. Banishment is just execution without getting the executioner's hands—or boots—dirty. It won't be Tanvik who kills me. I will die from hunger, or thirst, or exhaustion, or I could give up, look up, and end it all right now.

After Tanvik's speech is over, everyone stands and begins to file out of the hall. That's the worst part of it, I think; they'll all go back to their classrooms and there will be one more empty seat, at least until they find a new student to fill it.

A cold kind of resolution settles in my stomach. I have to die, and I know where I want to do it. Even if I won't be able to see it properly.

The door is at the back of the huge room, and I join the river of students leaving, except I'm no longer in the same reality as them. I walk right through everyone, and for a moment I can pretend that they are the ghosts, not me.

My senses are starting to sharpen a little now, or maybe I'm adjusting to everything being numbed. I can at least make out the faces of the students I pass. Some of them, mostly the younger ones, have faces blank with shock. Others share a joke with their friends, like nothing has happened.

I pass the teachers further ahead, right when they break away from the main crowd and take the shortcuts up to their classrooms. Most of their faces are unreadable. They've probably seen this before. Only Martel, the history teacher whose lessons I usually skipped, looks genuinely upset. He hangs at the back of the group of teachers, and as I pass I swear his hands are shaking.