Inside & Out Ch 15: The Time Of Departure!

(Charlotte)

Three days slipped by before I even realized they were gone. One moment it was my parents fussing over me, folding clothes, asking if I needed another pair of boots, and the next it was today. The day I was supposed to leave.

I hadn't touched the power again. Not once. Every time I thought about trying—about closing my eyes and seeing if that strange light would come—I stopped myself. The memory of that voice, sharp and clear in my head, was enough to freeze me. Stop. He had told me to stop. And I listened. Maybe out of fear. Maybe out of something else I couldn't put into words.

So I packed like anyone else would. Shirts, pants, my uniform set, the book about the Zeyvari. Neatly folded into a single case that now felt heavier than it should, like it carried more than clothes.

Standing at the door with my bag slung over one shoulder, I turned back. My mother and father were both there, their faces warm but tight at the edges. Pride, yes. Worry, too.

"You look ready," my father said, though his voice was thick.

"As ready as I'll ever be," I tried to joke, forcing a smile.

My mother stepped forward first, wrapping her arms around me so tightly I could barely breathe. "We're so proud of you, Charlotte. You've been chosen. You'll do great things."

"Your mother's right," my father added, pulling me into his own hug after. "This family's name will be carried with you. Remember that."

The weight of their words pressed down on me, but for once, I didn't fight it. I let myself hold onto them, squeezing tighter, memorizing the smell of home—the faint scent of wood smoke clinging to my father's coat, the herbs from my mother's apron.

"I love you both," I whispered. And for once, I didn't feel embarrassed saying it.

They pulled back slowly, reluctant, and I turned to the door. My hand trembled slightly on the handle, but I pulled it open.

Outside, waiting at the curb, was a bus. Long, grey, unmarked except for the single word painted in bold across the side: SENTINEL.

It looked ordinary, but somehow heavier with meaning than any carriage or cart I'd ever seen.

"Well," I said, glancing back at them with a shaky smile. "I guess this is my ride."

My mother dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve. My father gave me one last firm nod.

And with that, I stepped forward, bag in hand, into the unknown.

Charlotte stepped up into the bus, the metallic groan of the steps sounding far too final under her boots. The air inside smelled faintly of oil and paper, the kind of neutral, practical smell that didn't belong to anyone yet. She slid into a seat halfway down, close enough to the window to see her parents still standing at the gate.

Her father had an arm around her mother's shoulder now, both of them waving. Her mother's free hand fluttered in the air, quick, almost desperate, like she thought Charlotte might vanish if she stopped.

Charlotte pressed her palm to the glass, waving back as the engine rumbled and the bus lurched forward.

The street began to slide away.

Her parents shrank into the distance, the image of them framed by the doorway of their home, until they were just two figures on the path.

Charlotte leaned back into the seat, her bag on her lap, and let out a long breath.

"Okay," she whispered, the corners of her lips curling into a small, determined smile. "Time to start a new chapter."

⸻

(Kael)

The device buzzed in my hands like a stubborn insect, the hum so sharp I swore it rattled through my bones. I pressed it steady against the goddess's toenail, the vibration shivering up my arms as sparks spat from where metal teeth gnawed into the surface.

We called it a keratogrinder, though most of us just called it the gnawer. It was heavy enough that it took both hands to hold, and even then, it sometimes bucked back like a wild beast if you caught the wrong angle.

And that was just against the edge of the nail. The damn thing stretched above me like the side of a fortress, smooth and pale with ridges that caught the light like glass. Bigger than the tallest structure in the city, harder than stone. I sometimes wondered if even a hundred of us, working nonstop, could ever really make a dent in it.

The sparks flew again, bouncing off my sleeves, and I hissed under my breath, jerking the device back before it burned a hole through the fabric.

"Focus, Kael," I muttered. "Just keep the line even."

But I couldn't focus. Not really.

Word had been spreading fast—faster than it should. The goddess was going to school. To learn how to control her abilities. That part, at least, was official. The part that made me sweat was what came after: the whispers, the rumors.

The Munari. The chosen one.

Every screen in the body blaring with the declaration that the goddess had a partner. That someone was marked to stand beside her. And every day since, the search had grown more frantic. Reds turning over noble houses, yellows tightening their grip, blues and greys whispering in corners. Everyone wanted to know. Everyone wanted to see.

And me? I just wanted to disappear.

I shoved the gnawer back against the nail, teeth shrieking as they carved out another curl of dust. Sparks rained past my boots. My arms ached from the effort, but it was nothing compared to the weight pressing in my chest.

If what happened in the ear canal ever happened again... if someone else saw me glowing the way Breno did...

I clenched my teeth and shook my head. No. Don't go there.

The Yellows would never allow it. A blue? No, I'd be erased before anyone could even call it a mistake.

"Don't think about that," I whispered to myself, tightening my grip on the device. The nail loomed over me, vast and unending, catching the sparks like stars in a night sky. I forced my gaze upward, forced the hum of the gnawer to drown out the buzz in my head.

"Just focus on the job. One cut at a time."