are the transporters of dark entities—ones that cannot be transformed. They work alone, and do not fraternize with other Frequencies.”
The crowd fell back to either side of the hall. A small group of beings, only three hundred or so, stood in the middle of the floor. They shook and convulsed, the moaning growing louder and louder. Meg covered her ears, afraid she was going to fly apart.
With great effort, the Nightshades lurched toward the stage. The white flag hung limply from its pole. There was a sound, like water sucking through a gigantic drain, and the flag turned black.The Nightshades writhed, falling to their knees, their screams mingling with the moans of the vibrating fork. Meg cried out as several recruits burst and vaporized, a horrible sulphurous smell filling the room. The other Nightshades struggled through the transformation until they were completely and utterly black. They no longer radiated light like the other beings, but absorbed it. When the last recruit was transformed, the moaning stopped and the Prism grew bright again.
Meg lowered her hands from her ears and waited for the Light of Corometh to bind the dark ones. It didn’t appear.
“Are they bad?” she asked.
“No,” the silver being said. “There are no bad beings in the Light. Nightshades work with profound evil and must move undetected through it. Should they be captured, the Light of Corometh would only reveal the location of their brethren and endanger them all.”
“Why were some destroyed during the transformation?”
“They resisted the frequency.”
“But, what if they didn’t want to be Nightshades?”
“They are what they are,” the silver being said. “Their role is essential.”
“Why does evil exist at all?” Meg persisted. “Why don’t you just prevent it—or destroy it altogether?”
“There has always been free will. That is the gift of the Light. Darkness is a choice.”
“But … the Nightshades had no choice,” Meg said, becoming emotional. Hadn’t she experienced the same thing? Wasn’t she forced to transform whether she liked it or not? “Where was their free will?”
The silver being was getting irritated. “The frequencies are innate. They exist from the beginning.”
“But—”
“Enough,” the being silenced her.
Obviously there was a double standard here, Meg thought. Free will wasn’t for everyone. Some were apparently freer than others.
The Prism raised the silver mallet. The entire crowd shrank with trepidation. Everyone, including Meg, stared at the red flag. The second-last fork was hit, and a clear, low sound rang across the hall.
“Warriors,” the silver being said.
Something flared inside her. But it fizzled out quickly, leaving a hollowness in its wake. Meg watched, bewildered, as the remaining recruits glided toward the stage. The red flag waved and the recruits glistened with a corresponding glow as the Light of Corometh bound them. The silver being looked expectantly at her.
“Did you not feel the call? It is a great honour to be a Warrior.”
Meg didn’t answer. Something was stirring in her body, though it wasn’t in response to the call. She stood alone with the silver being before the Council and the questioning eyes of the multitudes. The voices of the other recruits rose, their confused chatter a roaring hurricane in her head. If she’d felt different from everyone else before, it was nothing compared to the way she felt now. I’m a freak, she thought. I don’t belong anywhere.
The gold beings huddled, throwing glances at her. They debated for the longest time before breaking and sitting back in their seats.
“Approach,” one of the Council members ordered.
The silver being glided obediently toward the stage. Meg was bolted in place. “You must do as the Council says,” it told her.
Meg felt a pulse, throbbing in her chest, growing stronger. Was she going to explode like the Nightshades? If she could just move. She centered her
The crowd fell back to either side of the hall. A small group of beings, only three hundred or so, stood in the middle of the floor. They shook and convulsed, the moaning growing louder and louder. Meg covered her ears, afraid she was going to fly apart.
With great effort, the Nightshades lurched toward the stage. The white flag hung limply from its pole. There was a sound, like water sucking through a gigantic drain, and the flag turned black.The Nightshades writhed, falling to their knees, their screams mingling with the moans of the vibrating fork. Meg cried out as several recruits burst and vaporized, a horrible sulphurous smell filling the room. The other Nightshades struggled through the transformation until they were completely and utterly black. They no longer radiated light like the other beings, but absorbed it. When the last recruit was transformed, the moaning stopped and the Prism grew bright again.
Meg lowered her hands from her ears and waited for the Light of Corometh to bind the dark ones. It didn’t appear.
“Are they bad?” she asked.
“No,” the silver being said. “There are no bad beings in the Light. Nightshades work with profound evil and must move undetected through it. Should they be captured, the Light of Corometh would only reveal the location of their brethren and endanger them all.”
“Why were some destroyed during the transformation?”
“They resisted the frequency.”
“But, what if they didn’t want to be Nightshades?”
“They are what they are,” the silver being said. “Their role is essential.”
“Why does evil exist at all?” Meg persisted. “Why don’t you just prevent it—or destroy it altogether?”
“There has always been free will. That is the gift of the Light. Darkness is a choice.”
“But … the Nightshades had no choice,” Meg said, becoming emotional. Hadn’t she experienced the same thing? Wasn’t she forced to transform whether she liked it or not? “Where was their free will?”
The silver being was getting irritated. “The frequencies are innate. They exist from the beginning.”
“But—”
“Enough,” the being silenced her.
Obviously there was a double standard here, Meg thought. Free will wasn’t for everyone. Some were apparently freer than others.
The Prism raised the silver mallet. The entire crowd shrank with trepidation. Everyone, including Meg, stared at the red flag. The second-last fork was hit, and a clear, low sound rang across the hall.
“Warriors,” the silver being said.
Something flared inside her. But it fizzled out quickly, leaving a hollowness in its wake. Meg watched, bewildered, as the remaining recruits glided toward the stage. The red flag waved and the recruits glistened with a corresponding glow as the Light of Corometh bound them. The silver being looked expectantly at her.
“Did you not feel the call? It is a great honour to be a Warrior.”
Meg didn’t answer. Something was stirring in her body, though it wasn’t in response to the call. She stood alone with the silver being before the Council and the questioning eyes of the multitudes. The voices of the other recruits rose, their confused chatter a roaring hurricane in her head. If she’d felt different from everyone else before, it was nothing compared to the way she felt now. I’m a freak, she thought. I don’t belong anywhere.
The gold beings huddled, throwing glances at her. They debated for the longest time before breaking and sitting back in their seats.
“Approach,” one of the Council members ordered.
The silver being glided obediently toward the stage. Meg was bolted in place. “You must do as the Council says,” it told her.
Meg felt a pulse, throbbing in her chest, growing stronger. Was she going to explode like the Nightshades? If she could just move. She centered her
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