Media: Soaring through with shadows

Music: Traction, Mark Petrie

That night, Cadence pretended to be asleep when Kashimi finished his final checkup on her. There was no one else in the infirmary, the coughing boy at the other end of the infirmary was discharged about two hours ago. The Healer cast a long, dark shadow as he picked up the remaining lamp and blew it out, dousing the entire chamber with darkness. Cadence heard the clink of grommets as the curtains separating the beds and the Healers' workplace as Kashimi pulled it apart then pulled it back together, retiring for the night.

Having consumed a second dose of the Devil's Claw, the throbbing on her wound had faded. She felt fine, just a little but whoozy. Cadence swung her feet of the bed and stood up tentatively, half-expecting to be overwhelmed by vertigo, but the dizziness was fleeting. She steadied herself by pressing a hand on her night stand and the other on the railings of her bed.

She fished around in the dark with one foot for her shoes. Cadence had changed out of her bloodied robes and put on a fresh change, which would decrease her chances of getting caught in the corridors. Ales' token was in her room, and she was annoyed at herself for not keeping it close with her.

Ales had paid her a visit in the evening, slightly miffed at her ability for landing herself in the infirmary for three times in less than two weeks. He called off their night training and would only resume it after she had Kashimi's approval. For Cadence, as long as she wasn't dragging herself across the floor, she was fine.

It Ales wouldn't train her today, she could train herself. Cadence prised open the door of the infirmary ever so gently, not wanting the slightest creak to sound, for it might bring sharp-eared Kashimi flying out. The door did creak, and Cadence held her breath, waiting for Kashimi to burst out from behind the curtains and shake his head at her in irritation. There was no movement from the curtains. Cadence exhaled, feeling her lungs burn. She shoved against the door as a sliver of light from the outside zipped into the infirmary, then closed it lightly.

Cadence headed the Affinity training hall. The doors were locked, but Cadence had a backup plan. The knocker cast a round shadow against the doors which Cadence eased it from the surface until it floated in between her hands. She straightened it and inserted it into the keyhole. Cadence prodded the inside mechanisms of the lock, then relaxed the piece of shadow, allowing it to assume the shape of the lock and fill it through. She then tightened her hand into a fist, solidifying the shadow. There was a whirr, followed by a small clock as she twisted the shadow-turned key, and the door swung open.

Once inside, she locked it back up. She walked up toward the aisle with the racks of iron discs, running her fingers over the lumpy surface. Cadence felt a gentle, familiar tug and found herself staring at the shadowsinger.

Rays of winter moonlight gleamed across the sharp blades. Cadence got off the platform and approached the shadowsinger. The gleam of the blades seemed to beckon her, as if asking 'don't you want to hear me sing?'

"Sing, sing for me," she said.

The shadowsinger remained silent, for there was no one to make it sing.

Cadence climbed over the red ropes tapering off the section and climbed the stairs up to the raised platform where the shadowsinger was. It seemed even more gigantic up close. The blades seemed to be arranged in a way that formed a spiral staircase. If the bottom blade was moved, it would trigger the one above to swing in the opposite direction. The only way to navigate through the forest of blades was to find the perfect timing, the gap beyond the meeting point of the blades.

Move the shadows firmly and with determination. Do not let the bottle fall from the table when you remove the tablecloth.

She raised her hands, palms facing outward. Cadence allowed the weight of the discs at the nearest rack to slip from her mind, she only needed the darkness underneath. Pressing the first disc back with an invisible hand, she jerked the shadow in one, swift, pull. The disc's shadow flew free. Cadence latched onto it and repeated the process on the bigger and heavier discs. She brought her hands together, ordering the shadows to coalesce into one, enormous ball.

She did it. Cadence laughed, feeling the sweat drip off her face. With a flick of her fingers, she broke the shadows into thin ribbons which she encased around her body. Cadence felt like an octopus, but with shadows instead of tentacles.

Cadence took in a deep, calming breath. Go big, or go home.

The shadows was comforting. They felt natural to Cadence, for they were a part of her. She took a flying leap toward the first blade and leapt onto it.

The shadowsinger churned to motion at once. Cadence threw the first tendril of shadow at the fast approaching blade swinging toward her head, knocking it into the opposite direction. It opened up a gap in between blades. She leaped onto the next, then repeated the process with another tendril of shadow.

It was like climbing up a staircase intent on killing her. She had to use every ounce of her concentration to maintain the pace and rhythm. One step too slow, or one step too fast would spell an instant death.

Higher and higher she ascended on the shadowsinger. The shadows moved in opposite of the blades, grazing through the top of the steel. Only then did Cadence hear the first, soft, musical note.

Every blade emitted a different sound when brushed upon by her shadows. The higher she climbed, the higher the pitch of the blades. The shadowsinger sang the song of its founders, its prideful past, the glorious days of the Hall of Shadows when it still stood. Another jump. It continued singing Kazimir's downfall, of how his entire being was shattered, and was thrown into the Savage Seas. Higher. Then came the song of the Great War when the Walkers of Moskava fell prey to the Oracles, and their entire heritage was wiped out in less than a fortnight. Another swing, another rotation, Cadence made it to the top of the structure with tears flowing down her cheeks.

She sobbed into her hands, letting the shadows slide back to wherever it originated. What had the Walkers done to receive so much hate? Weren't they humans too? Walkers were someone's family, a father, mother, sister, brother, daughter and son, they had their own hopes and dreams. Yet, they were labeled as bloodthirsty Varya who must be evil because of their Founder's wrongdoing. Now there was nothing left of the Walker kingdom, burned into ashes and its bones left to rot under the Esvaniran sun.

Cadence did not steal anyone's Affinity, no matter what Khazaria insisted. She did not know that the powers of a Walker was within her the whole time, in fact, she did not even request for it. Yes, Cadence was guilty of setting the Polong free, but she was not guilty of being born a Walker.

She wanted to scream to the world she was a Walker, but she feared the consequences. The man she had met in the tavern were one of the reasons her entire kind in Moskava was wiped out. She couldn't even tell her brother without fearing for her life.

Slowly, she gathered up her army of shadows and made her way down the shadowsinger. This time, she listened to the song in reverse. From a sad, depressing tune, it rose into that of a jovial song, unwinding the horror her people had experienced and back toward the starting point.

Truly, only a Walker could hear the real song of a shadowsinger. Cadence sat in the training hall, watching the shaowsinger's blades slowly die down and finally into a complete stop. It was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen.

The door of the training hall clicked, jerking Cadence out of her trance. She hurriedly slid into a dark corner, feeling the wall press against her back. She took in a deep, silent breath, calming herself down.

Ales walked into the room. He was wearing his usual kubah, but he had his cloak on, as if he had just returned from a trip outside. Cadence then realized the blades of the shadowsinger was still whirring, although it the momentum had started to die down, then cursed inwardly.

The man stopped mid-stride, then turned his head toward the spot where Cadence was hiding.

"I know you're there."

Cadence walked into the light.

"What are you doing here?" they asked at the same time.

"It's nothing of your concern, Cadence," Ales said. "The question is, why are you here. Kashimi strictly forbade you from leaving the infirmary until you've fully recovered. You need rest. A head injury like that, you could die if you over-exert yourself."

He gestured violently at the shadowsinger. "Orishas Alive, Cadence. What the hell do you think you're doing? You could've killed yourself! The shadowsinger is no joke, no Walker should attempt it without supervision."

"Still in one piece." Cadence twirled to prove her point.

"Go back to the infirmary," Ales ordered.

Cadence didn't want to argue with him. Her Energy was still buzzing through her Core and body as though she had downed a dozen bottles of mead. She strode out of the training hall and snuck back into the infirmary. She leaned her head against her pillow, unable to suppress an overwhelming feeling of victory. As she stared at the snow outside, Cadence finally decided on the Orisha she would pray to for guidance and strength.

Orisha Sorokin. He was the Orisha of pain and sorrow, but he was also the Orisha of vengeance and redemption. Some people seek vengeance to redeem themselves, some people seek redemption for revenge, and both came with pain and sorrow. Cadence wondered if Orisha Sorokin still paid attention to the human realm, or he had retreated from both Syurka and Esvanira forever, not wanting to trifle in its affairs anymore, not after his dismemberment and his three months of agony and suffering.

No, he was the Orisha of vengeance and redemption, the lord of pain and sorrow. He would fight back with every fiber of his being in what he believed in. He would seek vengeance for what Orisha Kastimir had done for him. It was in a way redemption for himself. Cadence hurt inside, but it was a good kind of hurt, the type where she knew was for the right cause. Somehow, she knew Orisha Sorokin would encourage her quest for redemption, even when it cost her life. From the moment she released the Polong, she had sealed her fate, and she would give back what she had taken away.