"If we open a quarrel between the past and the present, we shall find that we have lost the future."

-Winston Churchill

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Chapter 7: Commonalities

The question stretched like a fragile, invisible thread between us, and for a long, terrible moment I thought it would break, and Grey would release my hand, and I would be alone in the darkness. I heard him draw a slow, careful breath, and I waited for the moment when his fingers would slip from mine. But his grip only tightened, ever so slightly, as though he wanted to make certain that I was still beside him, as though I might be the one to break away.

"You're more observant than I gave you credit for," he murmured, his voice unreadable. There was another eternity of silence before he spoke again to answer my question. "Yes," he said, so quietly I could barely hear it. "I was a Wisher."

I let the silence stretch for a few moments more; I plucked at it with a finger, listened to its vibrating hum, tugged cautiously on my end and, as gingerly as tightrope walker, stepped onto it, praying it wouldn't break under the weight of my words. "What happened?"

His laugh was quiet and rueful, drifting through the darkness. "That," he said, "is a surprisingly short story, actually."

"Then tell me," I urged, as persistently as I dared.

In the moment of hesitation before he began, I imagined him casting into the gloom, searching for words. "You've probably guessed," he said finally, "that my wish wasn't granted, since that is the only way for a Wisher to leave Chrysanthia." His voice faded, leaving dusty silence behind.

"And you're still here," I suggested finally.

"...Yes," he agreed.

My silent smile went unnoticed in the darkness as I squeezed his hand. "I'm glad," I whispered.

Grey returned the gentle pressure, but he was quiet for a long time, and when he did speak, it was as though he hadn't heard me at all. "The rules are very specific where wizards are concerned," he said, and as I noticed immediately that his voice had gone strangely flat and impersonal I felt the thread wobble beneath me. "If a Wisher reaches the Palace within forty-two days, but doesn't make their wish by the end of that time, they become a Wizard."

Just as my smile had been, my frown was rendered invisible by the gloom. "Why didn't you make a wish?"

"Surely, as a human being, you know how indecision feels," he said, his voice clipped.

"Well, yes," I stammered. It took me a moment to gather my thoughts; he waited for me to speak. "But," I said slowly, "if you picked up the Book, and turned to the third page, then you must have had a wish--one that you would give anything to fulfill."

"At first."

"At first?" I repeated.

"At first," he said firmly.

I bit my lip, afraid to go on: I'd gone too far already, and without words to speak I listened to the thread of silence, thin as spider-silk, snap. Suddenly I was unspeakably tired; my eyelids drooped and my fingers almost slipped from Grey's before he tightened his grip. "Rain?" he asked.

"Sorry," I murmured blearily, "just--what time is it?"

"Give me a moment," he replied, and after awhile a tiny point of light penetrated the darkness. Squinting into its glow, I saw Grey hold his hand up to it, pulling back his sleeve to reveal the watch he'd mentioned. "Midnight."

"Right." Stifling a yawn, I glanced into the darkness, peering past the tiny glow to see if it illuminated anything--or if there was anything to illuminate. Seeing the direction of my gaze, Grey snapped his fingers. The light was snuffed out by a tongue of black flame, and then that too extinguished itself, leaving us in darkness again.

"Grey, why won't you let me see anything?" I asked.

I heard him take a deep breath. "That--"

I yelped loudly as something cold and clammy twisted itself around my ankle, winding slimily up my leg.

"What is it?" Grey asked.

"S--something on my leg!" I exclaimed, my voice emerging as a strangled shriek.

I heard a rustle of cloth as he knelt down. "Which leg?"

"Left!" I cried, tugging frantically at the slimy tentacle with my right hand while I clutched Grey's fingers with my left. "It's on my--"

He spoke a single, unidentifiable word. It reverberated through the darkness, accompanied by a flash of black fire, and the tentacle withdrew, leaving nothing but a cold, clammy trail halfway up my leg.

My breath escaped in a whoosh of air. My legs crumpled under me and I collapsed to the ground beside Grey, closing my eyes against the darkness. In the distance, the screams and laughter grew briefly louder, and Grey's fingers tightened over mine. I drew a deep, shuddering breath, and whispered, "Give me a minute."

He waited as I forced my breathing to slow, convinced my hands to stop trembling, and finally managed to open my eyes. "The Denizen in this Domain," I said quietly, my heart still pounding, "it's--Fear, isn't it?"

"Yes," he confirmed.

"Right." I drew another deep breath, just for good measure, and felt my eyelids beginning to droop again. "Could we stop here for the... um, ‘night'?"

He laughed, but it wasn't the same as it had been before; it sounded formal and forced. "All right," he said, and I caught a flash of black fire out of the corner of my eye a moment before he continued, "There's a sleeping bag beside you."

"Thanks," I murmured, feeling with my hands until I felt the folds of a blanket. Crawling under it, I found the pillow and curled up, one arm resting under my head. "Grey?" I asked.

"Yes?"

I winced; his voice still had that uncomfortably formal edge to it. What had I said to upset him? "As long as I'm not afraid," I said slowly, "then... Fear can't find us... right?"

"Yes," he replied.

"All right," I said quietly, closing my eyes. After a long while my thoughts began to drift, and blearily I realised that I'd never heard Grey lie down. Was he going to sleep at all? I meant to ask, but I was too tired to move any more. I wondered instead what I had said that had made him so suddenly impersonal.

Wavering at the edge of sleep, gliding along the hazy line between consciousness and unconsciousness, I remembered, in bits and pieces, our earlier conversation. "I'm glad," I had said.

My eyes flew open--or I thought they did. Was I asleep or awake? Guilt formed a lump in the pit of my stomach, and I lay motionless in the darkness, my eyes neither open nor closed. How could I do that to him?

How could I say that I was glad that he could never go home?

I opened my eyes, realising tiredly that I must have fallen asleep. Sitting up, I cast my eyes around for some sign of Grey, even though the gloom hadn't lifted even a bit.

"What is it?"

His voice came from my left; he must have heard me sit up, but somehow it didn't surprise me that he was still awake. I curled my legs up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them and resting my chin on my knees. How was it that the darkness seemed darker now than ever?

"Rain?" he asked.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

"What?"

I heard a small movement, and felt his gaze come to rest on me.

"I'm sorry," I repeated quietly. "And... thank you."

He didn't reply, but he didn't need to--or rather, I hadn't needed him to. With a smile I turned over, drew the blanket up to my chin and closed my eyes, marvelling again that there was no change between the outside world and the inside of my eyelids. Well, there was one difference. Behind my eyelids was only darkness, but standing a few feet away from me in the darkness outside of them was an extraordinary wizard named Grey.