11
“Whatever you two are doing, it isn’t working,” Gran growls. “She got mad at a neighbor kid and almost partially shifted. If I hadn’t gone out to check on her at exactly that moment, who knows what would have happened?” she adds frantically.
“I just don’t understand what’s happening. She shouldn’t be shifting until puberty and, Awlon, you said her marks shouldn’t have shown up until then either. Why is this happening so young?” mom demands, worry soaking through every word.
“I don’t know. If we were home, we could find some answers, but we’re here. We’re completely cut off, and I wish I could explain it all, but I can’t.” Dad sounds defeated, and I watch him sit heavily down into his favorite chair and put a hand over his eyes. His black hair is short now, but I like it most when it’s white like mine. “Either it’s our blood triggering her abilities early or something outside is doing it. I’ve heard of Ouphe getting their marks young if they’re in a threatening environment. It’s very rare, but there have been cases of it. However, Falon is safe, so that can’t be the case here.”
Gran crosses her arms over her chest and gives a disapproving grunt. She leans against the arm of the sofa and watches dad rub the bridge of his nose. “Will she ever really be safe?” she grumbles.
“Sedi, please don’t start. We’re doing the best that we can for her,” mom snaps.
“You say that like it makes it all right, Noor. But what if your best is not enough? Why can you never see that?” Gran replies evenly, but she has that look in her eyes she gets when I better listen to her or else.
“And what would you have us do?” dad demands.
I flinch as though the anger in his tone is aimed at me and sink back deeper into the shadows.
“For starters, tell her the truth about herself. Tell her about what she can do. Have you never thought that the issues with the marks, the magic, and the shifting are because she doesn’t understand it and therefore has no idea how to control it?”
“She’s not even five yet,” mom states, exasperated, throwing her hands up and sitting down on the couch like it’s all just too much. She does that a lot these days.
“She’s smart, Noor. You’re doing wrong by that eyas by keeping her in the dark. You should be helping her understand, helping her manage it all, not stealing her marks, not binding her abilities!”
“Enough, Sedora!” dad yells, and I cover my mouth as a whimper escapes. “You have made your views plain. But Falon is not yours, and you have no say in the decisions we make.”
“How dare you?” Gran seethes, pushing off the wall and stepping toward him. “I have left everything I know behind to serve this family, to protect you. I love Falon just as you do, and I won’t stand by and watch you destroy who she is out of fear and selfishness. I say enough is enough. It’s time she knew!”
Gran turns to walk away, her footsteps in the plush carpet heavy and mad. She moves closer to where I’m hiding in the corner, and I freeze, worried that I’ve been found.
“Get your hands off of me!” Gran yells at the same time mom asks, “Awlon, what are you doing?”
I stare, frozen in shock as dad shoots out of his chair and grabs Gran from behind.
“I bind you, Sedora, steward to my family. I bind your tongue from speaking about who and what Falon is. I bind your animal from ever revealing itself again. I bind you to us so that you may never leave. I mark you and bind you, as it is spoken, it is so.
“Savo truss farin tamod quass. Mayhara elod tamod leerah. Rukke seeri wain voru halturenna.”
“Awlon, no!” mom commands as she tries and fails to pull dad’s arms from around Gran. Gran is crying as dad uses the power words he tells me I should never use. I step out of my hiding spot and run to Gran. I try to pull at dad’s hands and scream for him to stop like mommy is. But he doesn’t stop.
“You’re hurting my gran!” I scream as my own tears spill down my cheeks.
Gran gasps like I hurt her, and I let go, worried that I have. Dad steps away from her, and she looks at me while mom and dad fight. I don’t understand what I see in Gran’s eyes, but it makes me so sad. I open my arms like she does for me when my heart feels too much and I need cuddles. But it just makes Gran look sadder. Maybe if I draw her a picture, she’ll feel happy. She always likes my pictures, especially when I draw the sky.
I turn to go get my colors for Gran, but dad calls me. He has that mad voice again, and I don’t want to turn around. He speaks more power words, and I’m suddenly so tired. I drop to the ground so I can lie down. I look over, surprised to see Gran standing next to me. Why is she crying? I’m so tired. I’ll have to ask her when I wake up.
I jerk awake with a gasp. Sorrow, confusion, and anger surge through me like a tidal wave, and I roll over to my side and pull my arms and legs into me.
What the fuck did my dad do?
I can’t reconcile the happy lime green eyes of my memories with what I just saw. How could he? I’m not sure if I’m asking on behalf of my gran or me. I wipe at my wet cheeks and wonder why the flashes are surfacing now. I think back to the crumbling of the ring on my finger. Is that really it though? Could one ring change how I look, what I can do, what I can remember?
Pain lances through me as I’m once again reminded of how little I know about myself. My gran was right, my parents should have told me the truth; instead, they took things from me. Memories, abilities...more...I know there’s more, but I can’t pin down exactly what. Even now, this fog that’s always been in my head is still thick and heavy.
They did this to me.
I fold in on myself as much as possible and try to understand the why of it all. No matter how hard I try though, I can’t. Anger slowly stalks through my body. So far, I’ve aimed all my frustration and vitriol at my gran, but she didn’t do this.
She didn’t do this.
I repeat the truth again and instantly feel even more awful. I’ve been so pissed at her this whole time I’ve been here, and none of this was her fault. It’s clear that even in death, she was trying to show me the truth. She was trying to help me understand.
“I’m so sorry, Gran,” I lament, and then I let the floodgates open. Everything she did was out of love...to protect me...even from my parents.
I shove away thoughts of my dad and my mother. I don’t know how to deal with them or with what they did. I don’t even know what in my head I can trust and what I can’t. I love them, I have my whole life. I’ve always remembered them as loving and attentive, but right now, hate and anger at the thought of them overwhelms everything else. Is my whole childhood some brainwashed inception? I’m so pissed off right now, and I have no idea what to do about it. How do you yell at dead people? How do you get them to understand that they fucked up?
I laugh hollowly at my stupid questions. They’re gone. They have been since I was five. What do they care when it comes to the consequences of their actions? I think of Treno’s parents and the war their actions caused. We’re all just suffering and trying to make the best of what’s been done to us. Loss and frustration simmer inside of me, and I wish there was something I could do to get rid of it.