World of Shadows

by Emily Rachelle

  Francis reaches down to pick me up, probably to carry me to a bed. I realize there’s still something I need to address. Now that I’ve remembered, I won’t be able to rest until I get this over with. “Wait.”

  He stands, watching my face, waiting for me to speak.

  “Francis, I know now that you were Shadow all along.” He nods, and I take a few slow, deep breaths before continuing. “But when I came back, when I fought the griffin…when I ran to the library…” I don’t want to ask this, but I need to. “Where were you?”

  I can’t look at him. I look down at our hands. His is frozen, grip tight, unmoving.

  It’s the question I never tried to ask. Not because no one would have answered me, though that might have been the case, but because I never wanted to. I know the answer. I desperately hope it’s not true.

  He doesn’t answer. Every moment he doesn’t answer confirms my fear.

  Not all of the villagers have left yet. Sophie steps toward us, taking my free hand. “Sweetheart, sometimes the truth isn’t pretty. It’s not clean or friendly. But it is truth nonetheless, and it must be faced and grasped. You know what you need to do.”

  “No.” The scratchy whisper escapes my lips unintentionally, but it repeats in my mind. No. No. God, no. I pull my hands away from both Sophie and the man next to me, burying my face in them. I let out a groan.

  I don’t know what to feel. This man, the man next to me, my former fiancé, I love him. I loved him before as Francis; I’ve come to love him again as Shadow. But my village, my beloved village, the people who raised me, they’re hurting or dead because of what that creature did here. Adele is dead because of the griffin. And the griffin was my lover.

  Sophie’s voice is lower now, directed toward Francis. “She must work through this just as you did. Only you know how to help her. Together this can be put behind you, after everything you have been through. I’m sure of it.” Sophie’s voice is steady, soft, and when she stops speaking I wish she’d come back and keep talking to me. Instead, Francis’s hand rests on my back. I cringe away. He doesn’t touch me again.

  “I… I know how it seems. It’s…there are no words.” He pauses. “It was horrible. I can’t tell you how terrible it was, trapped inside that thing.”

  He continues speaking while I wrestle with my thoughts. He was the griffin. My Francis, my Shadow, the mystery man of the tunnels, and he was the monster. He killed…He killed my friend, my sister, and others before her.

  “After you left, I returned to the palace. Anne and I thought the danger would be over with you gone. In the carriage, I pulled out our necklaces to look at them, but only yours was in my pocket. I must have dropped mine in the forest. I stopped the carriage to search for it, but it was gone.

  A few days later a girl came to the castle. She said she’d found a necklace and recognized the portrait. She came to return it to the palace. I had her brought to the throne room to meet her personally and thank her for returning the piece. She curtsied and smiled and giggled, but when I put the necklace on, she changed. Everything around me did. The room grew gray and hazy. It was like peering through smoke, and the smoke grew thicker until I couldn’t see or hear anything. I fell asleep. When I woke up, I was in that room behind the castle, here in the tunnels, in a monstrous body.

  “I could control it at the beginning. When I first woke up as the creature, it was still me. I was beautiful. The children would climb my back. I couldn’t talk, but I was still me. And then, as time passed…I wasn’t.” He pauses, takes a shuddering breath. “I wanted to remove the necklace, but the chain was gone. The pendant had merged into my skin, become part of me. The more nights I spent as the griffin, the more my mind slipped away. I was still aware, still awake inside, but angry. There was so much heat and pain and anger inside. I tried to contain it, but I couldn’t hold it forever. Eventually, I hid in the castle, locking myself in that back room at night.

  “Every night, the anger and the pain and the energy inside grew stronger. Every night I had less control than the night before. At the beginning, I could enter the village whenever I pleased. Soon I only stayed out for a few hours in the middle of the day. As time passed, my body began to…change. You saw it. The body that trapped me at night started to taint me during the day. It started with feathers in my hair. Then there were feathers on my arms, my back. When my fingernails turned to claws, I stopped leaving the castle at all. I wasn’t sure if I might lose control during the day, too. I couldn’t risk it.

  “After enough years, I knew I still had full control during the day. It would be safe to go outside again. But by then, I couldn’t put the villagers through that. The body I wore at night had done too much damage. I didn’t want them to be afraid.”

  “Bellamy,” I whisper, lowering my hands from my face.

  “Yes,” he confirms, his voice cracking.

  My breathing has steadied. Francis takes a tentative step toward me, and I don’t move away. He offers his arms. I step into his embrace, pressing my face into his chest. It’s been ages since France, but I remember this smell. There are no feathers, no claws anymore. Just strong human hands pulling my body gently into his.

  I shift my face so he can hear me, whispering for only him to hear. “You are not a monster.”

  He sighs out a sob. “My people, your family…Bellamy…Adele…”

  I take a deep breath, shuddering a bit. “That was not your fault.” The words are as much for my benefit as his.

  “I didn’t… I wanted… I tried…”

  “I know.” I pull him tight against my body. “I know.”

  After several minutes, his breathing steadies. I take a few deep breaths myself.

  His hand slides across my arm to pull my hand into his; our fingers wrap together. A surge of happiness shoots through my chest to my stomach. I know that this, us together, is right. We can figure out the rest later. I push back the thoughts of the griffin. I don’t need to worry about that, not anymore. Not right now.

  We stay another night in the tunnels. I need to rest before we make the journey to the surface. As much as the villagers long for freedom, the idea of leaving this familiar place behind is still frightening. But we all itch to be out in the sunlight again, smell the fresh air and feel a breeze.

  I can’t tell when the night ends and day begins. The windows no longer let in light. The torches don’t change with time, just burn steadily. I wonder why the torch magic hasn’t ceased when the rest has—nothing is self-cleaned, the people are visible, Francis is healed. When I mention this to Francis, he explains that the torches aren’t running by magic. When the curse broke, the whole village went dark; some of the villagers managed to start a fire in the garden and re-lit the torches. They kept them lit in shifts overnight.

  The villagers pack the things they have, as well as the clothes left in the shop and some stale bread. We all steer clear of the butcher’s shop, keeping that door securely shut to contain the smell. I gather my things from New York in my backpack and decide to take two dresses and my hairpieces and brush with me. I leave the rest of my underground princess belongings behind; I can’t carry much, and I won’t need them anymore. It doesn’t take long for everyone to gather in the remains of the garden, waiting for instructions.

  Since Francis has returned now, he can take my place as the royal of the group, but I’m still technically in charge as the only one who understands the world above. Francis gets to make the speeches now, though, so that’s nice. He flips a pot upside-down and stands on it to address the crowd now.

  “It’s time to return to the world above. My lady and I will lead the way. Half the men will follow, after which will come the women and children, then the elderly. The other half of the men will take up the rear and ensure that no one falls behind. We are running out of wood for light; there is no time to lose.”

  Francis steps out of the garden and I follow. The villagers trail behind us. I’m not exactly sure how we g
et out of here, but Francis seems to know where he’s going. I follow him in the direction of the castle until he takes a hard left. Was this tunnel always here? I don’t remember. Did it appear after I broke the curse? Is this the same one from my nightmares? It’s been so long; I can’t remember.

  Francis and I walk in silence. The villagers are quiet too. What is there left to say? I’m the only one who knows what to expect, and I’m not even sure if we’ll end up in France or New York or somewhere else entirely. And what if our assumptions are wrong? What if the magic sends us right back to medieval France? I hadn’t even thought of that until now. I really, really hope that’s not how this works.

  Even if we wanted to speak, each person’s concentration soon focuses entirely on our climb. The tunnels get steeper and the ground becomes rockier with each step. It reminds me of hiking. In some places, the tunnels are narrow enough that we have to climb through one by one. The villagers pass torches between each other, keeping them upright with effort. Slowly, the red dirt becomes thick reddish-brown mud. That eventually gives way to dark gray-brown rock.

  Finally, we reach a cave, a huge space of slick black rock. I vaguely remember this. It’s the exit from my nightmares.

  The cave is lit only by the remainder of our torches, most of which have gone out. Soon complete darkness envelopes us. Each step is slow, tested before putting weight on it. I rest my hand on Francis’s shoulder. I can feel his muscles shifting slowly, carefully, cautiously. He walks with one hand brushing against the jagged rock wall to guide him through the necessary turns. Finally, the last turn leads us to sunlight. It’s almost blinding.

  Beyond the mouth of the cave stand countless trees. It’s clear the cave exits into a forest. But through the trees, I hear a familiar sound. A car zips past us. If I strain my eyes, I can sort of make out the black pavement of the highway. I look up and, with some effort, make out a house across the street, a towering blue and white structure. I recognize it.

  A gasp ripples through the villagers as they catch up, seeing the sunlight and the forest for the first time in centuries.

  “We’re in New York,” I announce, failing to cover my excitement. This is going to be a terrifying transition for the villagers, but all I feel right now is relief. “There’s a road ahead of us—a highway. We can follow that to my house and make a plan there. Just follow me, and whatever you do, stay away from the road. It’s dangerous.” I don’t have the time or patience to explain cars right now. I’m ready to go home—and stay home this time.

  With a deep breath, I glance at Francis. He nods, gesturing for me to go ahead. I take the first step out of the cave onto the leaves covering the forest floor. A twig snaps under my feet.

  I lead the villagers out of the darkness and into the sunlight, into their bright new world.

  Acknowledgements

  My previous books, Sixteen and Rain in December, were each firsts—first book and first poetry publication. World of Shadows, although my third release, is also a first: my first novel.

  Any book, whether first or third or tenth in an author’s career, takes more than one person to complete. I owe my thanks…

  To Katie, who saved my butt in editing and pushed Beila to become the heroine she knew she could be.

  To my dad, who hardly ever reads a book but can stitch up a plot hole like nobody’s business.

  To my team at NaNoWriMo 2012, where this book was born.

  To Go Teen Writers, the community that kept me going in high school and set me on the writing path for life.

  To Jesus, because in today’s world you can never thank God enough just for staying alive and staying sane.

  Finally, to Cristin. Partly for fixing my horrifying French, but mostly for loving me and supporting me through the past year. I look forward to many more together.

  Born in Panama, Emily Rachelle traveled throughout the country and the world with her Air Force family. She currently attends university in Indiana, pursuing a degree in public relations. When she's not curled up with a book or her computer, Emily loves to ride around campus on her hideously hot pink bike. Of course, if it's raining (as it often is in Indiana), Netflix-binging and amateur art are always options. Emily is also the author of poetry collection Rain In December and Christian novella Sixteen.

  Find out more about Emily and her books at her blog, Emily Rachelle Writes.