My glow extinguished around me and the Muckracks. The creatures remained on the floor—chunks of them erased and their energy drained, but their chests heaving. They were still alive.
Sprinklers abruptly ejected from the ceiling and water sprayed into the room. The water melted away the muck I was stuck in, and I was able to pull myself from the glob. I stood up—feeling sad, achy, and tired, but mostly angry. I went to collect my boot. As I slid the wet leather over my soaking sock, the broken main door was pushed inward. The sprinklers stopped and Merlin walked in.
“You better hope I’m tapped out after that,” I said. I flicked my wrist and my magic came to me with raging light. “Nope. Look at that, there’s still enough left for a little vengeance.”
“Calm down, Crisanta. You’re not going to kill me any more than I would have let you kill them.” He gestured at the Muckracks.
“What are you talking about? I partially crossed the Malice Line by draining life energy from both of them,” I snapped angrily. “I can’t afford that, especially in an unnecessary battle.”
“I had faith that you wouldn’t fully cross the line and would only take enough life to stop the threat. I was right. Seems like I believe in you more than you believe in yourself. Your training mixed with a high moral standard means that, for the most part, you may be able to control your magic no matter how powerful it becomes. You just have to want to control it.”
Some of my ire dampened, mainly because he’d addressed a topic I was so vastly insecure about. “How can you be so sure?”
“Because I am the same as you, Crisanta,” Merlin said with genuine caring. “I know you wish that wasn’t true. And maybe our personalities differ, but you and I are cut from the same cloth. You, Liza, and I are the only ones cut from that cloth. So I know what it feels like to be scared of the power inside you, and torn between the good things you want to do and the dark things you know you’re capable of. But hiding from it doesn’t make the power go away. And pretending like it’s not there isn’t going to help either. You have to face what’s inside of you the same way you would face an external obstacle.”
His words affected me deeply. I preferred to push Merlin away as I considered him cold and manipulative. But he was right; he, Liza, and I were the only Pure Magic wielders that hadn’t turned dark because of our powers. And if someone like him could avoid that fate, I had to consider that his way of thinking had merit. Chance had given comparable advice last night. If these two people who had pretty much nothing in common except their association with me felt similarly, maybe I needed to start looking at my powers the same way I had come to view my character vulnerabilities at the start of this journey—not as elements that needed to be suppressed, but parts of myself I needed to accept.
I took a deep breath, moved past my anger, and put my pride in the back seat. I agreed with Merlin when he said I was too far along in my story to move backward. Self-acceptance was a lesson I’d learned a while ago, and I wasn’t going to let my magic continue to rob me of that great strength—which, I realized now, it had been doing recently by stealing my confidence and making me feel bad about being powerful. Chance and Merlin were right; I needed to own this other part of myself, even if it was scary.
“I don’t agree with your methods,” I said finally. “But I get where you’re coming from. Though I have to say, I am surprised that you set me up like this. I thought you were wary of my magic. I wouldn’t have expected you to push me in this direction. After the Vicennalia Aurora, you made it pretty clear you see me as a potential danger to the realm.”
“I know a lot about the future, Crisanta. But I don’t know if you stay uncorrupted like Liza and me in the end,” Merlin said seriously. “I am aware of how powerful you are and therefore know you pose an ongoing potential threat. But I have faith in you, so I am trying to help you while keeping my eye on the big picture. My best chance at keeping both in good standing is by moving things along with your magic in a controlled way. You consider Liza a teacher and a mentor, and I see myself as the same for you, whether you’ve asked for it or not.”
Merlin sighed and gestured around the room. “This was a lesson I needed to teach you. We both needed to see how your power has grown. And you need to own that if you have any hope of getting through the trial next week.”
“You act like I should just waltz into a room full of the realm’s higher-ups and rub my magic in their faces.”
“Why not? I’m not saying suck the life from them. But remember the advice I once gave you: in warfare, there is no greater power than understanding your enemy. Book’s higher-ups may not be your enemies in the traditional sense, but arguments are best won when you understand the perspective of the opposition. Lena Lenore views you as powerful and threatening. If you accept that you are those things, you can defend yourself in a way they’ll understand. If you play the I’m-not-that-strong card, they won’t believe it because deep down, you don’t believe it.”
Droplets of water dripped off my hair. I hadn’t thought to wear my SRB on this trip (the enchanted Soap on a Rope-like Bracelet SJ made for each of us that kept us magically clean and dry on journeys). I didn’t typically wear it at school. As a result, now I looked how I felt—a bit of a mess, but also washed clean and renewed. Since returning to Lady Agnue’s I had been living under a shadow of fear regarding how powerful I was, putting on airs of weakness in order to placate my worries and everyone else’s. Merlin was terrible in a lot of ways, but he’d just given me the shove I needed to step back into the light, my light.
“I don’t know if I stay uncorrupted either,” I told Merlin. “But you’re right. Pretending like I don’t have the potential I’ve been given is a waste, and that’s not who I am. I’m a swirl of light and dark; that’s not something I need to be ashamed of. I’ve spent too long becoming powerful. Lenore and the higher-ups aren’t going to make me afraid of it.”
“Good,” said Merlin. “And take it from me, having people feel put off by you is much better than letting them make you feel put off by yourself. You’re special. And haters gonna hate.”
I tilted my head. “I haven’t heard that saying before. I like it.”
“It’s by Taylor Swift, one of my favorite Earth musicians. Though she hasn’t written the song yet . . . And, on that fun note,” Merlin rubbed his hands together, “I have business in the lab. I have to check on Mauvrey’s memory potion. Should be ready any day now. If you need to dry off, there’s a bathroom around the corner. The towels are quite plush.”
“What about the Muckracks?” I asked.
“They’ll get back to the forest. I’ve got six squires looking to prove themselves. It’s fun to haze the new hires by giving them difficult jobs.” Merlin shot me a smile.
I was going to make a comment but let it go. Interactions with Merlin always left me mentally and emotionally exhausted. I picked up my shield, changed it to a wandpin, attached it to my bra strap, and called it a day. Hopefully SJ would be done with her data gathering shortly and Blue, Jason, and I could head back to school. The sooner we left, the sooner she and Merlin could return to work on Mauvrey’s memory potion. That’s what really mattered in the grand scheme of things, not my magical confidence and upcoming date with the legal system.
I headed for the mangled door.
“Oh, and Crisa.”
Dang. So close to the exit.
I turned.
“I realize how much importance relies on SJ and I formulating the potion to retrieve Mauvrey’s memories. But don’t let that fool you into putting your attention on the wrong priority. Waking Mauvrey is a pivotal part of the story that’s unfolding. In fact, I predict finding a way to retrieve her memories is going to have a domino effect that races us to the climax of this entire saga we’ve been building. However, she is not the point of this part of your journey. Your Pure Magic and its development as you struggle to control your morality are much bigger, if not less obvious plots you need to worry about.”
I didn’t respond and just stepped through the broken door. It would never stop irritating me that it seemed like Merlin could read my mind.
I grabbed my backpack off the floor, begrudgingly grateful that Merlin had asked me to take it off so it wouldn’t get ruined. SJ’s red folder was still inside and I needed to give it to her. I found my way to the bathroom and dried my face with the plushest towels I had ever touched. After towel-drying my hair, I looked in the mirror and was startled by a sudden flash.
The bathroom window offered a view of the evening sky and the cracks of lighting filling the storm clouds. I wandered back down the corridor, looking for a hall that connected to the outside so I could take a better look at the brilliant, forceful sky.
Soon I found my way to an exit several floors up and went through glass doors to reach a large oval balcony with ceramic floor tile. Instead of a railing, rocks were stacked in odd piles along the edge, like a child had come along and built stone towers. Two wooden chairs faced outward; between them stood a slender wooden table. I imagined this was a great place to read or think when the weather wasn’t stirring with such gumption.
I walked to the brink of the balcony and stared out. The lightning was beautiful and watching it calmed me. I guess I could relate to it—strength churning inside, bigger things brewing, power and potential teasing a big reveal. After a minute, my eyes drifted to the rock pile nearest me. One rock seemed to be protruding from its stack too much. I lifted my foot and nudged it.
“Don’t touch that.”
I jumped as lightning flashed and turned to discover Peter Pan and Tinkerbell flying down behind me. Peter looked so much like Arthur—especially the blond hair and his eyes. Now, knowing that Gwenivere was his mother, I could see traces of her in him too—his nose, eyebrows, and even his ears. It was funny what you noticed when you were properly looking.
“Hey, Peter.” I smiled and gave a nod to the small fairy too. “Hi, Tink. I’m sorry, what’s the significance of the rock piles?”
“I’m working on something abstract,” Peter said, flying over to the stack I’d disturbed and pushing the rock I’d touched back into place.
“Abstract art? That’s how you’re spending your free time around here?”
“Merlin suggested it,” Peter replied with a shrug. “He says rock gardening is good for ‘stilling the mind and calming the spirit’,” he said adding air quotes.
“Sounds like something he would say. Does it work?”
“Not in my experience.” He sighed, picking up one of the rocks and turning it over in his hand. “When no one’s looking, I just use them to practice my aim.” He gestured down. I looked over the edge of the balcony and spotted two fountains on either side of a walkway far, far below.
“Left side.” Peter flung the stone in his hand and it sailed through the air until it eventually landed in the corresponding fountain.
“Nice shot,” I said. “What else have you been up to lately?”
Peter’s expression turned solemn. “Honestly, anything I can think of that keeps me under the radar and away from AP.”
I raised an eyebrow. AP was what Peter had called Arthur before he knew about the whole parent thing. I guess “Dad” or “Father” didn’t sit right in his mouth yet.
“Um, aren’t you in Camelot to spend time with Arthur and Gwenivere? They’re your . . .”
“Parents,” he finished bluntly. He looked at the fairy. “Tink, can you go grab my slingshot from my room? The one SJ helped me make?”
Tinkerbell’s wings flashed colorfully in response. She gave me a salute then took off.
“Do you wanna sit?” I gestured to the chairs.
Still floating, Peter shook his head. I rarely saw Peter grounded like a normal person. It was too ordinary and rooted for him. Instead, he flew up over the door I’d come through and sat on the edge of a flower box positioned there full of white orchids.
“Have you ever simultaneously wanted to do something but also wanted to do the exact opposite?”
“Only every time I consider eating a very large pastry,” I replied. “But I know that’s not what you mean. You don’t know how to be part of this new life while still living your old one.”
“I’m not even sure if I want this new life,” he said. “The Lost Boys and Girls don’t have a home or parents, so we protect each other. I’m not dumb enough to think that those kids wouldn’t abandon our family if they discovered they had a real one somewhere. Deep down, no matter how much kids crave freedom and independence, most of them want to be taken care of by adults who love and will look out for them. But not me. I may have come to Neverland without any ties to people who cared for me like the rest of the Lost Boys and Girls, but unlike the majority, I never longed for that. Before Neverland I was surrounded by adults who just wanted to control my life. The way I saw it, I was better off without them. I was the captain of my own ship and the master of my own destiny.”
“Peter, you were raised by magic hunters who kidnapped you as a baby, kept your identity a secret, and planned to train you to assassinate Arthur when you got older. That’s not a healthy model for an adult-kid relationship.”
“I know,” he said. “But it doesn’t change the fact that for years now I’ve been able to do whatever I want and be whoever I want without the pressure of needing to change or grow into something else. Now I have parents who’ll expect that from me. A hundred times worse is that inevitably one day I’ll be expected to be king of this place.”
If I could fly, I would’ve floated up to Peter and given him a hug. I suspected that’s precisely why he’d positioned himself out of reach, to prevent that sort of thing and keep his face in just enough shadow to guard his true emotions.
“It doesn’t have to happen fast,” I tried to encourage. “In Neverland, biological time is frozen. If you spend some time here and some time there, you’ll age much slower.”
“Growing up has nothing to do with age,” Peter argued. “It’s about experience. I could be twelve for a thousand years and I still wouldn’t be able to undo what’s happened. The moment I found out the truth about who I am, a new clock started to tick forward—one with responsibility and thoughts of the future. I started to grow up. One could argue that all the kids in Neverland are always growing up because they keep learning and taking in new experiences. It’s just easy to ignore it because of our day-to-day freedom and isolation from the outside world. You can’t see change in yourself without someone holding up the right mirror. But we’re all one big reality check away from having that perspective shatter. The perspective of childhood.”
I glanced up at my friend. “Peter?”
“Yeah?”
“Would you be offended if I threw one of these rocks at you?”
He perked up, more interested than insulted. “What?”
“I think everything you’re saying is true,” I said sincerely. “In fact, I know that it is. I’ve been seventeen for half a year and I feel like I grew up more in that time than I did in the decade and a half before then because of my experiences. But that doesn’t mean I’ve abandoned being a kid. I’d like to think I never will completely because you’re right; it’s all about perspective. Being a true adult isn’t about getting married, getting a job, and filing taxes. It means taking responsibility for your actions and future, thinking about the bigger picture and what you and the people in your life owe to each other, and making choices that reflect the wisdom you’ve gained.
“And being a kid isn’t about playing games and running around like nothing matters. It’s about looking at the world with innocence and optimism, it’s about having the open mind to learn and the open heart to change, and it’s about being the version of yourself that is welcoming to fun and just feeling alive. Kids and adults alike have responsibilities; you can’t escape them no matter your age or realm. But you don’t have to pick one world and you don’t have to pick between perspectives. Whether you stay twelve forever or decide to slowly age,
you can always be part kid and part adult. You just have to be brave enough to find a balance.”
A pause hung between us. I’d given a lot of pep talks in my day, but this one filled me with particular passion. I truly believed every word I had said, and I knew if Peter could as well, it may not solve his problems, but he may find some peace. I wanted that for him. He deserved it.
“How do I find the balance?” he eventually asked slowly.
“By trying,” I said ardently. “It’s that simple.”
The door to the balcony opened and SJ appeared. “Crisa, I was looking for you.” She noticed my eyes dart up. “Oh, hello, Peter. Am I interrupting something?”
“Only the great Crisanta Knight passing on her words of wisdom,” he said.
SJ smiled. “Really? Well perhaps I should go back inside; that is a rare occurrence.”
“You’re getting too sassy for your own good,” I replied with a smirk.
“I learn from the best. Anyway, I am done with my testing on Blue so you all can head back home if you wish. Merlin tells me a wormhole is opening in thirty minutes and I am sure with the time difference, you have already missed plenty of Book hours.” SJ glanced up at our friend again. “Peter, Arthur said that if I found you to let you know that he is leading a meeting with his parliamentary advisors at 6:00 and dinner is at 7:00. You are welcome to join him and Gwenivere for either or both.”
Peter dismounted the flower box and flew just above SJ.
“I can say I did not see you,” she offered. “Your hideouts three, five, and six are available for commandeering if you wish to hang out there instead.”
Peter thought for a moment then shook his head. “Nah, I’m going to do something else.”
“What?”
He looked at me. “Try,” he said with a wink.
Tinkerbell appeared again, magically levitating a slingshot behind her. Peter grabbed it. “What room’s the meeting in?”
“The Briar Room,” SJ replied.
“Cool.” He nodded, then zipped toward the edge of the balcony and stuffed a few rocks in his back pocket. “In case I get bored or one of those parliamentary dudes falls asleep.”
Into the Gray Page 17