Bali woke up with a deep, shuddering breath, turning her body around like a caged animal, looking for an impending attack. She had no memory of leaving Tony, no memory of falling asleep, no memory of being chained like an animal. The last thing she remembered was Tony's arm in front of her, the witch opening the time stop, and then… nothing. Bali shivered, pulling her legs up to her chest, the rough chain around her ankles scraping painfully against her flesh. The room she was in was frigid, icy, and she realized suddenly that her hat was missing and her long golden hair was falling wildly over her shoulders.
They must have figured out that I am not Lucy, she thought with a shudder. If that was true, then she was in trouble. She hadn't wanted to go on the stupid mission in the first place, and now she was locked in some witch's basement or who knew where. Bali looked around the dark room ruefully, noticing that the only light came from a gas lantern that had been covered with a headscarf to dim the light. Was that so the shadows could come and kill her? Steal her shadow and make her do their bidding? Bali didn't consider herself an emotional woman, but at that moment it took all her courage not to break down from sheer fear. She hated hunting shadows and fighting evil; all along she had feared this was where it would lead her—to a dark room, chained to a wall.
Bali took several deep breaths to calm herself. They had trained for situations in which they might be captured, but she had barely paid attention, preferring not to think of that possibility. But even with her limited practical knowledge of survival in captive situations, she still knew that staying calm was key. So again she took several deep, calming breaths, ignoring the way the rough hospital gown chafed against her body as she moved, focusing instead on how the air felt as it filled her lungs.
"Rahh!" she suddenly yelled in frustration, shaking the chain in anger and making it dig into her skin even more. This is all that stupid girl's fault! she thought to herself, letting the anger and resentment chase away the tears that threatened to fall. She hated the way Tony had looked at Lucy with her long lashes and big green eyes and hair that was the opposite of her own. She hated that he had been willing to risk her own life to protect the girl's, but most of all she hated that he no longer trusted her as he once had. Images of that night weeks ago flashed into her head unbidden, as they had done many times before: of Tony coming out of the forest, covered in dirt and scratches and blood. The look on his face as he marched past her and into the light of the streetlamps haunted her still.
"Perhaps this is what I deserve?" she said in a scratchy voice, realizing her throat was painfully dry. She wondered if it was a byproduct of the time stop or if perhaps she had been chained to that wall for longer than she thought.
A harsh clicking sounded from the wall opposite where she sat, and a portion of the stone wall that had appeared seamless opened suddenly, revealing a hidden door. A figure came in with a cloak that covered its face in darkness, so Bali could not see if it was a witch. The figure carried a tray with a bowl and a cup sitting on it, which it set down carefully on the floor and slid close to Bali without getting near her. Then it sat down on the other side of the small room, its back against the wall and its legs crossed, without saying a word.
Bali looked down at the tray and saw that the bowl had what appeared to be plain oatmeal with brown sugar on top and a thick wedge of butter melting into the sugar, creating a kind of glorious syrup. The cup was water, which Bali picked up and gulped greedily, not caring that some poured down her chin.
"Jumping through time makes you thirsty," a deep voice chuckled without humor from beneath the cloak. Bali wiped her mouth and set the cup down.
"Who are you?" she asked as she picked up the bowl and began shoveling the sweet gruel into her mouth. Who knew if these little meals would continue? Better to get the calories in while she had access.
"You're not worried about poison?" the man asked, the hint of a smile in his voice.
Bali stopped eating for a moment and then shrugged, spooning the last of the bowl into her mouth before setting it down on the tray with a clang.
"I imagine witches have a thousand ways to torture when they want to; poison seems a little pedestrian," she replied, trying to sound casual.
The man chuckled slightly in reply and then consented with a nod, his head still shadowed within the hood of his cloak.
"Who are you?" she asked again, her curiosity growing. The man said nothing, and Bali looked at him expectantly until it was clear that he wasn't going to answer her question.
"Do you work for the witches?" she asked, deciding a slightly different line of questioning might get her somewhere.
"You could say that," he replied mirthlessly.
"Why are you here, then?" she asked, feeling annoyed.
"Ohhhh, I get it now. You're the staff? Am I right? You bring the trays to the prisoners, clean out their bedpans? That sort of thing?" Bali said in her most condescending voice. She had always been good at making people feel like they were beneath her, a talent she frequently felt guilty over—except at that moment.
The man ripped his hood off, and a look of rage was on his face. His eyes were greener than grass on a sunny day, and even from where she sat Bali could see a head of loose curls as black as midnight. Something about him was familiar to her, but she couldn't place it.
"I am a servant of the moon and an apprentice to the head witch himself!" he said, as though it were rehearsed. "And I am here to guard you and make sure your friends don't come looking for you." He relaxed when she said nothing but just sat staring at him. Leaning back against the wall, he added, "Did you really think that little disguise would fool a witch?"
"It was worth a shot," she replied, relaxing against her wall. "I'm assuming you didn't catch her, then?"
The man looked away, his cheeks flushing slightly as though the truth embarrassed him, and then he looked back at Bali with fire in his eyes and said, "They will find her. The witches always get what they want."
"Why keep me, then?" she asked.
The man nodded at her tattoos, visible above her jacket's collar. "They know you're a tracker. You will find the girl for them."
"Oh, will I now?" she asked.
"Yes, you will."
"OK then, servant of the moon and apprentice of the most high witch, what's your name, then?" she asked, feeling oddly safe in the man's presence despite his hostile demeanor. Something about him felt off, as though this mean and angry person were a façade he was trying hard to keep up.
"Milo," he replied gruffly, looking away from her again.
"Milo. Nice to meet you, Milo. I'm Bali," Bali said, forcing herself to suppress the smile that threatened to creep onto her face at how innocuous the name Milo sounded. She didn't think she could feel scared of someone named Milo.
The man grunted in reply but said nothing. Suddenly Bali wondered if he was a man at all, as he seemed more boyish in the dim light of the covered lantern, and she wondered if he was trying to seem older than he was.
"How old are you?" she asked him.
"I… don't know," he replied with a sudden look in his eyes that made Bali pity him, despite the fact that he was sitting unchained while she was locked up like an animal.
"How can you not know how old you are?" she asked him, getting a queer feeling in the pit of her stomach.
"I don't know," he replied again, his face losing its rough edges and a smoother, younger face relaxing in its place. "I don't remember a lot of things, I think."
Suddenly Bali remembered the look in Lucy's grass-green eyes when she said "I don't remember" and the way her midnight hair fell in waves around her. They looked almost identical, and the thought popped into Bali's head that they must be related somehow. How else could they have the same eyes, the same hair, not to mention the same lapses in memory?
"Do you have powers?" she asked the boy suddenly.
He looked startled for a moment and then sadly shook his head and said, "No," before looking away again.
There was something strangely familiar about the boy that reminded her of Lucy. He had a look in his eye as though he wasn't completely present—a fire in his gaze mixed with a haziness that made Bali feel as though she were looking at Lucy's doppelgänger. Bali sighed and looked away from him and down at the empty plate at her feet, wondering if the oatmeal was his idea and if he had even been supposed to bring it to her.
"How long will I be here?" she asked him.
"As long as they want—at least until you find the shadow eater for them," he replied calmly.
"The shadow eater? The witch said that before. I've never heard of a shadow eater," she said.
"It's all they ever talk about: the girl who ate the moon and the sun, reincarnated as the one who will eat shadows," he said quietly.
"And they think this girl is that one? That she is the reincarnation of the girl who ate the moon and the sun?" Bali replied, horrified. "That is an old nursery rhyme we tell to kids with powers. It isn't meant to be taken as though it has historical significance."
"They have more than just old nursery rhymes. They have seen it in their crystal balls. It has been prophesied," he replied.
"The magic of witches is not reliable; it is corrupted magic and is as likely to betray the witch himself as it is to help. Their prophecies and crystal balls only show partial truths, never full ones. I wouldn't put too much stock in what they saw," she said, pulling her legs closer to her chest and trying unsuccessfully not to shiver.
"You don't know what you are talking about!" the boy said, suddenly standing up, his fists clenched at his sides. "I serve the shadows, and I am an apprentice of the witches…"
Bali said nothing. She noticed that he didn't say the exact same thing before but had changed it slightly, as though he couldn't remember what he was supposed to have said. The boy looked angry and a little confused, and he walked suddenly toward the door and swung it open with a wave of his hand, as though using magic.
"Wait!" she cried. "I need a blanket!" But the boy was gone; the door was shut, and the wall looked like a regular wall again.
Bali hugged her legs tightly to her and shivered again. She felt tired and couldn't stop thinking about the strange way the boy talked and the way he looked so much like Lucy. She hoped she hadn't made him so angry he wouldn't come back—or that he would come back without food. She shivered again and lay down on the floor, curling up into a ball and trying to keep her body from shaking. Somehow she fell into a troubled, dream-filled sleep, but when she woke a few hours later, a woolly and thick blanket was draped across her, and she felt warm.