Shades of Darkness by A. R. Kahler

still spinning with what Jane had said about Chris. But it wasn’t just that; I kept thinking over all my interactions with him—his side glances, his appraisal in crits. I’d always just thought he was being nice, in that stranger I’ll never connect with sort of way. Now, I couldn’t help but look at it in an entirely different light. “Got some work done.”
    â€œNice. You have no idea how ready I am for this movie. We’ve been blocking for Marat/Sade all night and I want to scream.”
    â€œI can’t wait to see it,” I said.
    â€œAnd I can’t wait for it to be over.”
    Which we both knew was a lie. She had one other performance before the end of the year, and that was a scene in the Senior Showcase. Like me, she was holding on to every experience she could. It was just easier to verbally try and convince ourselves otherwise.
    She curled up against her pillows and I curled against her. As always, she smelled like flowery perfume and tea, something soft and antique. The scent would forever remind me of nights like this, of watching stupid movies on her laptop and eating junk food and waking up the next morning feeling more exhausted than not. I hated to admit just how much I loved this. How alien and perfect it felt. I wasn’t used to this sort of friendship. If I had been, certain things in my life would have gone much, much differently, and I probably wouldn’t have sent myself to Islington in the first place. There was a reason my side of the room was covered in sketches while her side was filled with family portraits. Thankfully, she never really asked what those reasons were—another point in her favor.
    Without further ado, she hit play on the computer and I hit pause on my inner thought process. Or at least, I tried to. My thoughts were notoriously hard to silence. Tonight, I knew, not even sleep would still them.

Dark dreams.
    Shadow
    Feather
    Root and Bone
    The gods created you for this.
    And I sit in the gnarled roots of the World Tree while the horned god Cernunnos speaks from his knotted pulpit:
    â€œThe gods demand blood. They have always demanded blood. To speak with divinity, you must pay in pain.”
    He turns, but he is now Odin, the Allfather, the ravens Hugin and Munin perched on each shoulder. His suit is coal, his cowl crow feathers, his staff a root from the Tree itself.
    â€œWhen Yggdrasil burns, god and man shall dance.”
    And I turn in the classroom of glass students and see a girl. Her dark hair drips down pale skin, hides violet eyes.
    â€œI know you.”
    I say. She says.
    My reflection wavers. Glass cracks.
    Snow burns outside the window. Ravens scream.
    â€œOf course you know me,” she says. “For we are the same.”
    She steps forward, reaches out, touches
    my face. Only it isn’t her hand, it is my hand, and I stare back
    at my face through her eyes.
    â€œWhen the battle comes, you will be mine,” she says. “Together we will fight the Aesir. Together, we will earn the mortals’ worship.”
    I step back. “I don’t want to fight.”
    â€œBut you will. You were born for this.” She smiles. Violet eyes glow.
    â€œYou were born to be mine.”
    Her skin touches mine. Ravens scream as blood burns and the World Tree cries as the battlefield stretches before us, blood dripping, blood on fire, boughs brimming with blood and ravens. And in my hand—our hand—a dagger, and at my feet,
    a body. His golden body.
    I scream. Ravens fly.
    â€œWhy are you hiding from me?”
    Her words crack. She cries blood.
    â€œWhy are you hiding from me, Kaira?” Brad asks, his hands
    on my cheek, lips
    on my neck. His words dripping down my throat.
    â€œWhy are you hiding from what you’ve done?”
    And I scream as raven feathers fill my lungs,
    as Brad bites my collar, presses hips to mine
    as Munin buries himself into my chest.

I woke up feeling like I