Burn Bright

The kar transported her higher, clunking through an interchange before arcing onto a subsidiary line.

Retra peered through the window, wondering why daylight never came here. Joel had talked of Ixion but she had not really listened, not really believed he would go there. Every season Grave North lost some of their youth to the lure of the Dark Island – but not Seal South.

Seals knew better than to look for pleasure.

The kar slowed to a halt at a station where a sign wavered under a light so fragile that it seemed as if one more rumble from the carriage might extinguish it forever.

‘Vank station. This kar will leave in ten tolls,’ said the speaker-voice.

Hugging herself, she stepped out onto the platform. At the foot of the long stairs she saw another platform that served as a terrace to the entry of a huge stone church.

She glanced around as she descended; either end of the terrace disappeared into darkness, and the edges drew her in the same way a precipice held fascination to those fearful of heights.

She left the stairs and crept to one end to peer into the darkness. The drop was steep and dangerous. Shapes appeared from the darkness below, blurred at first then becoming solid. Her father’s face, bloated with anger, hovering atop the body of a blood-slicked, glistening demon. Long, cruel nails grasped for her.

You have disgraced us!

Jamming fingers in her mouth to stop a scream, she ran to the bolted doors and tugged at the bell. When no one answered she banged at the door, trembling and sobbing.

Finally a girl appeared, holding a flickering candle.

‘You are early. Welcome to the Church of Vank. Hush now, baby bat, never stray from the paths and know when you must rest. I am Charlonge.’

Retra clasped her hands together, prayer-like. ‘Please … I need clothes.’

Charlonge frowned at the underwear for a moment before she slipped her arm around Retra. ‘Of course you do. You all do at the beginning. Come.’

As they entered the church, Retra barely registered the marble alcoves with their candlelit miniature statues, or the vases of satin-black flowers. She spent her energy on walking, and on listening to Charlonge’s gentle instructions.

‘Up there behind the praying pews. That’s right. We have beds awaiting our new baby bats. Soon you can rest. Up the stairs, little one.’

Retra recoiled against the balustrade.

‘What hurts ye?’ asked Charlonge.

‘N-nothing hurts,’ Retra gasped. ‘But I-I’m almost n-naked, I c-cannot be seen by others.’

Charlonge’s solicitous expression tightened. She pulled Retra to her feet and seized her shoulders. ‘I’ll say this one time only. Don’t show your fears and weaknesses. In this place they’ll devour you as sure as the night.’ She bent her face close, her breath sweet but her tone as sharp as a slap in the face. ‘In Ixion, modesty is kin to sin.’

‘Who comes, Charlonge?’ A Riper appeared at the top of the stairs, pale hair flowing to his shoulders, skin like milk. Retra felt the stillness of the air around him. She forced herself straighter.

‘A baby bat that strayed from re-birth, Forlorn,’ said Charlonge. ‘She lost her way before her clothes could be burned.’

The Riper peered down at them both, hollow-eyed and untrusting. ‘See to it.’

‘Yes, Forlorn. Of course.’

He glided from their sight down a darkened corridor.

Charlonge gave Retra a hard look. ‘Remember why you came here. Seek enjoyment or they will age you quicker.’

Retra nodded. She must learn quickly.