Blackness.

To perceive but not see.

To be fully aware but still blind.

To observe all but still live in darkness.

This was Musa’s curse. For as long as he could remember, he could see in a way that no one else could or should:

Fuller.

Deeper.

Purer.

But…

Duller.

Darker.

Colder.

With Shade Sight, he could always tell where his friends were, yet he had never looked upon their actual faces. To know more and yet, know less… This was his plight.

Sweat still clung to the hooded boy’s forehead. It was Musa’s second trip through the Veil today, and his body felt it. He shuddered to think that he was not done. He knew what was waiting for him. Just how many times would he have to Shade Step before this day was over?

Twelve. That was his record. Twelve Shade Steps in a single day, and his body ached for a week. Would he have to do more? His master told him that someday he would do more… far, far more. Musa could not see how. Such a thought seemed impossible. But if his master said it, then it had to be true. His master was never wrong. Hopefully, today will not be one of those days.

Musa could feel the Sacer’s gaze on his back, but the General had yet to move from where Musa had left him.

I think he is talking to someone, the boy considered. Master said they would be confused at this point. Musa momentarily wondered whom the General was conversing with and what they were discussing, but he figured he would know soon enough. So, there was no reason to dwell on the matter. Besides, he had other things to worry about.

Musa reached out with Shade Sight and examined Caleb’s broken body. It looked bad. Real bad… The bulky figure lay, twisted and bent, limbs resting at impossible angles. The last exchange with Zachariah had rendered both massive and muscular arms dislocated from the boy’s shoulders, and his left leg appeared to be broken. A bloodied and broken bone protruded out of his right calf and even ripped through Caleb’s shredded pants. However, it was the mangle and torn hands that held Musa’s attention. They seemed to be gone, and in their place were two unidentifiable masses of raw flesh, frayed skin, and crushed bone. They look less like hands and more like misshapen lumps of ground meat.

Musa Sighed.

This is what happens when inhuman power is granted to very human bodies. Suffice it to say the results are not advantageous for one’s physical well-being. Back on Tri-star, such injuries would have been life-altering. Healing and rehabilitation would have taken years and left the young man crippled for the rest of his life. Musa knew of farmers who had suffered far less and never fully recovered. But here…

Musa felt their presence before he heard them. The medics that the General had on standby rushed toward him.

“They’ll be fine, lad,” said one of the green-clothed medics. He was a tall man with short-cropped, salt and peppered hair. Musa estimated the man to be in his late forties. His hardened face and the scar above his right eye spoke of the terrible things the man must have experienced during his career, but his soothing tenor and gentle smile put Musa at ease. “I know your friend looks a fright, but you’ll see. Give us a few days; he’ll be as good as new. Right as rain, he’ll be. Just wait and see for yourself.”

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Musa nodded and tried to look reassured. But such acts of expression were challenging for the blind boy to pull off.

How does one look reassured? he thought. Musa gave it his best shot and hoped he expressed something that did not make him look stranger than he already appeared to be. That was the other thing. Musa could feel all their eyes watching him. Even as they carefully placed Caleb on a stretcher, their stares rarely left him. They had witnessed the trial and seen something extraordinary. Even if they did not understand what they saw, they knew it was not normal.

Normal, Musa pondered. What’s that like? He was used to people staring at him, especially back home on Tri-star. But here? Here, he hoped it would be different. But those bewildered eyes told another story. Regardless of where he went, no one would ever consider him normal.

“Good show, boy,” the middle-aged Medic continued. He had just finished helping secure Caleb to a stretcher. It took six other medics to heft the sleeping giant and carried him to the ambulance. “Over the years, I’ve seen my share of interesting applicants. Some truly marvelous stuff, I tell you. But never have I seen one block a general! Or…” the Medic looked around as if making sure no one else was listening. Then he whispered. “Or… Shade Step.” The veteran’s voice grew softer with what Musa could only describe as concern. “Listen, boy, I don’t know how you did what you did, but whatever it was, things are about to get serious. More serious than I have ever seen it. They just ordered all of us the vacate the Trial Grounds. They even called an end to all other trials… They don’t want anyone else to see whatever is about to happen. So, it will be just you and him.” The Medic pointed his chin in the General’s direction.

Musa said nothing. He did not know what to say. That uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach returned. Again, he wanted to vomit.

Four medics returned from loading Caleb into the ambulance and hastily strapped Saul onto his own stretcher. As before, Musa could feel them watching him.

Always those eyes, Musa thought, always watching. Out of reflex, the boy tugged his hood further over his face. Musa knew the cowl did not actually prevent people from seeing him. But it was the only shelter he had from those eyes.

“Well, we’re done, boy. Don’t worry about your friends. As I said, we’ll take care of them. You just worry about yourself.” The Medic singled to the others with a wave of his hand. “I wish I could see how this ends, but orders are orders.” Musa sensed the man looking right at him. “Just a few words of advice. Don’t push too hard. You have already proven yourself, boy. I don’t know what the General has in mind, but it’s better to submit than to die.” Musa felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Take care, kid. And if you survive this, I’ll like to be the first to welcome you to the Sacers.”

“Thank you,” said Musa as the man harried off after the other medics. A few moments later, the blind boy could hear the whining sounds of the hover turbines carrying his friends away.

They’re finished, thought Musa. They had done their part well. And now he had to do his. It was all going according to plan. Everything that had happened, his master had foretold. Even now, with the evacuation of the Trial Grounds and the last bout between him and the Sacer—it was all as Joseph had predicted.

“Listen, Musa,” the boy recalled the words of his master. “Once they clear the grounds. It will be just you and the General. He will not hold back, for they will want to test you. This is good. However, it is of the utmost importance that they understand your full abilities. For that to happen, you must do the impossible… you must last at least five minutes alone with a Sacer general. Don’t let him defeat you before then… or all could be lost.”

“Good!” Musa was so deep in thought that he hardly noticed Zachariah’s approach. “Now that we are alone, I think we can have a proper test of your abilities.”

The boy could not answer. Troubling thoughts raced through his mind—

What if I fail?

What if I can’t survive five minutes

What if I ruin everything?

What if I’m not—

WHAAAM!

Musa did not know what hit him. But hit him, it did! It struck him like a full-speed hover truck! The boy’s body spun through the air. All around him, the earth quaked and shattered by the unseen force! Pain erupted through every cell of his being, tempting to subdue his mind. Then he felt it… His body hit the ground! His breath escaped his lungs, and fresh pain traveled from limb to limb as he rolled and tumbled, over and over again, until finally, his limp form came to an abrupt stop.

He fought to hold on to his consciousness, but blackness filled his already dark world.

Four minutes, fifty-eight seconds remaining—

The blackness took him.