The sanctuary felt frozen, a living place holding its breath. The rescue gave us a glimmer of hope, but danger was all around. Everyone knew the main Chroma was now watching us closely. A sharp worry buzzed in the air, stronger than the valley's calm Chroma. People doubled patrols. The edge of our area had thick Violet and Aura layers, shimmering in the dusk. The Sanctuary of the Unseen was becoming a fort.
While all this was happening, my world got smaller. It was just the quiet healing area and Mara, a scared girl with stormy eyes. Lyra told me, Be her anchor. But how do you anchor a ship still lost in a storm?
Our talks were about being patient. I sat with her and did easy Chroma stuff. I'd make a raindrop roll on a leaf or make moss glow green. I spoke to her using Chroma, what we both understood. I showed her power could be quiet, not loud.
For days, she watched without saying anything. Then, one morning, I made a small flower appear and disappear with my breath. I felt something – Mara gently touched my Chroma. Her power was a mess of fear, but I felt a bit of curious blue, like my own.
I didn't react or look at her. I kept my rhythm. Soon, her thread joined in, a shaky sound to my steady beat. The flower glowed a bit brighter. It was small, just a shared breath. But her wall of fear now had a crack.
The next day, she spoke softly, They said my touch killed things.
I looked at the stream, my heart hurting. They lied. My touch used to make things grey. I thought the same.
She was quiet a while. The grass went brown where I walked. My toys lost color. My parents didn't look at me.
Her story was like mine. It's not death, I said gently. It's quiet. And quiet isn't empty. It's a new start. You weren't killing the grass. You just asked it to be quiet.
I looked at her. She watched me, hood down, showing a small, pale face with messy hair. The storm in her eyes was still there, but quieter.
Can you show me about the start? she asked.
This was the chance, her asking for help. I nodded. We can try. It's hard and scary. Your power will fight at first because it's scared.
I had her sit by me on the riverbank. Close your eyes, I said. Don't feel the Chroma around you. It's too loud. Just feel it inside you. Your own noise.
She did, her body tight. I felt her wild energy, like a trapped bird.
Now, I said softly, don't push it away. Listen to it. Know it's there. It's part of you. It's scared. Can you feel that?
She nodded a bit.
Good. Now, think you're not its prisoner, but its keeper. You're not making a wall, just closing a door gently to give it (and you) peace.
I showed her, letting my power be calm. The bright grove Chroma was far away. The world turned grey, not like before, but controlled.
I felt Mara struggle. Her power fought against being held back. Grey energy burst from her, and the grass at her feet turned yellow. She jumped, almost crying.
It's okay, I said quickly, letting the color come back. You didn't hurt it. See? I touched the grass and brought it back to life. The green slowly came back. It was just resting. You didn't break it.
She stared at the grass, then her hands, like she'd never seen them. The failure didn't beat her. She saw the chance. She saw the grass come back.
Again, she whispered.
So, we practiced by the river, two Grey-Scribes calming our storms. She got better slowly, with problems and tears. But she got better. Her wild energy calmed. She held a small quiet bubble for seconds, then a minute. The first time she didn't hurt the grass, she looked at me. I didn't see fear, but a small smile.
One time, Elias found us. He watched from far off.
You're a good teacher, Kaelen, he said, coming over after Mara slept under Elara's blanket.
I'm just telling her what you told me, I said.
It's not the words, he said. It's understanding. You share a wound. That's stronger than any help. He looked serious. We must make her train faster. And you too. The harmony isn't just a theory. It's needed.
He took me away. Our scouts say there's stuff happening. Big Ash-Singer groups and Null-Gorges are getting ready. They're not just looking around. They're going through the mountains, taking down our warnings. They're coming for the sanctuary. It's not 'if' anymore, but 'when.' We have weeks. Maybe less.
The grove's peace was gone. The fear I held back for Mara's sake came back. Can the defenses hold?
Not for long. The main Chroma might not come, but will send enough force to beat us. Our only hope is to be gone before they get here or defended in a way they can't overcome. He looked from me to Mara. The two of you working together could make a silence field big enough to hide the whole valley from them. It's our only way to get everyone out.
It felt like a lot. The lives of everyone here depended on me teaching a scared kid a hard Chroma thing in weeks.
She's not ready, I said. I'm not ready. What if linking our powers goes wrong? The way it felt back in the canyon was bad.
The option is the Greying of this sanctuary and the death of everyone in it, Elias said with no emotion. Including her. You must make her ready. There are no other choices.
The next days were hard. My training with Elias got harder. We focused on making my silence field bigger and more stable. He pushed me, making me hold a field over the arena until I bled and couldn't see straight. The stone on my shoulder got hot.
At the same time, my talks with Mara got harder. I told her about a big field. I had her try to make her small bubble bigger, to go around a tree, then a clearing. It was hard for her. She didn't have much control, and when she tried to make it bigger, her fear came back, and her power would mess up, causing a bit of Greying.
It was too much. I saw the fear come back to her eyes. She was a kid who just learned to walk, and I was asking her to run.
It all broke during a session Elias watched. He had us sit back-to-back in the arena, with our fields going.
Now, he said, don't push each other. Let your fields touch. Let them know each other. Find a connection.
I took a breath and let my silence field go towards Mara's. The moment they touched, everything was chaos.
It wasn't like the canyon, but worse. Our powers bled together. Her fear, her memories of being stuck, flooded into my mind with her wild silence. I saw dark wagons, felt cold cuffs, and heard Ash-Singers call her a monster.
I pulled back. Mara cried, holding her head. The grass around us turned to dust.
I can't! she cried, moving away from me, scared. It hurts! It's too much!
She ran from the arena, leaving Elias and me in grey dust.
I sat there, my mind messed up. I felt bad for hurting her.
It's what I thought, Elias said sadly. The harmony can't be forced. The link is too close. To join your silence, you must share your souls. And hers is still a fortress with scars.
He left me alone in the grey circle. I had messed up. The plan was now going to fail. We couldn't harmonize. We couldn't make the shield. The sanctuary was done, and it was my fault.
As I walked, people looked at me like I was at fault. I saw Kael sharpening weapons, looking angry. I saw Lyra studying maps with others, looking hopeless. I saw Elara making charms quickly.
I found Mara in her grove, face hidden, under her blanket. She moved as I came near.
I didn't sit by her. I sat away, giving her space.
I'm sorry, I said. I shouldn't have pushed you.
She didn't respond.
What you felt, the memories, I felt them too, I said softly. I saw the cages. I heard their voices. I took a breath. It's my fault, Mara. I'm why they took you.
She looked up at that.
The main Chroma wants me. He sent his Ash-Singers after me when I was born. My real mom, the Scribe Queen, hid me to keep me safe. But he didn't stop looking. And when he found out I was free he looked for others like me. He found you because of me. Your pain it's because of me.
I cried, feeling ashamed. I had carried guilt since learning the truth, every life lost, Finn's sacrifice, Mara's fear. I wasn't strong or wise. I was responsible for much.
I felt a small touch on my arm. Mara had come closer. She looked at me, her eyes wide.
You're sad, she whispered.
I'm sorry, I choked out.
She was quiet a moment. Then, she said, It's not your fault. It's his fault. The bad one.
She didn't blame me. She gave me a thread of something stronger than Chroma. It wasn't power or training, but shared pain.
She hadn't reached my silence, but we had found something together while huddling together in the grove, two scared kids at war. It was small. But in the dark, it was all we had.