Ch. 8— Riot

Moonthread, by Anthony Lee Phillips

Anthony Lee Phillips

Jan 28, 2025

Chapter Eight
RIOT

“DEMON!”

A riot of noise erupted on every side of Nala. People shouting, shouting all around her, everywhere.

They shouted from every direction. People shouted at each other, at Akha, and even up at the sky.

But mostly, they were shouting at Nala.

Nala couldn’t make out anything anyone was saying. Before she could really process what was happening, Gran Akha was there to protect her. Which was strange, because it looked like Gran was still trying to get down from the Teller’s ladder…

That’s when Nala realized…

“You’re not Gran.”

“Thank Ugru I’m not,” said the hag.

It was the old insane bigot, Ica, who was standing in between Nala and the crowd, as the crowd morphed into a mob.

Bodies encroached, their eyes shaking with anger. Fists and pointed fingers.

“Back!” Ica shouted at one particular stranger.

But the man didn’t get back. No, he lunged, right at Nala.

That’s when Ica made her magic known.

HmmmmmMMM

Cold air swelled up in Nala’s belly, before shuddering out of every nerve in her body.

Her eyes went dark, as Nala was wrapped up in a blanket of shadow.

MMMmmmmmMMMMmmmmm…

Then…

The blanket came off, and she found she…

Where she was was nowhere.

Am I gonna throw up? she thought.

No answer.

She was falling, she tripped. She flew, then she fell.

The shadow spit her out, and Nala tumbled. She put out her hands to break her fall, thinking it was the ground coming at her.

But her hands latched onto a ladder’s rung. It took a moment for Nala to reorient herself.

As the dizziness dissolved, Nala looked around at the mob. Nearly all their eyes were where Nala had been, rather than where she was now.

Gran saw her first. “Nala?!”

“Did I just… teleport?” Nala said. Her heart thumped loudly in her ears.

Ica grinned. “First time riding the shadow, huh? Come on— quickly!”

Ica climbed the ladder, and Nala scrambled after her.

But not before looking down.

“Don’t look down!” Ica shouted, not needing to look.

“What are you—? doing here—? Ica?” said Gran.

“Are you okay?” Nala asked her Gran.

She nodded, but it was a plain lie. Gran Akha was covered in sweat, and her breaths were uneven.

Why? Nala wondered.

Mmmm.

“Come here, girl,” Ica grunted.

Was it because of me?

Afraid so, said the voice in her belly, so sadly, so sad.

“NALA!”

Nala looked up at Ica. Her one eye was wide with rage.

“Up! Now”

Nala obeyed.

“There!” shouted the man who had lunged at her, from the other end of the agitated mob.

Ica looked fiercely at the crowd.

“Idiots,” grunted the hag under her breath.

When both Nala and Gran were close enough, Ica swept her cloak through the air, and wrapped all three of them up in a shadow.

The wind gusted down from Mount Wraithwood, and Ica’s cloak billowed around her.

Like a cape of… Not stars. Shadows. A cape of shadows.

This truth was a cousin to the story Nala knew. The first of many. The first of a lifetime.

The sound of the crowd dissolved like echoes in a cave. Nala felt for a moment as if she were swimming in dark water, unable to see, unable to feel the pull of the earth…

Completely removed from the natural world.

Another realm, said the voice in Nala’s belly.

The echoes of reality receded for a moment, like ripples in the pond of her mind, of her soul.

All thoughts became impossible.

But it was just a blink of this.

The formless feeling faded, and Nala’s eyes—

* * * * / * * * *

Nala’s eyes snapped open.

They were safe, but still close enough to hear the riot raging.

To hear the riot growing.

Gran Akha fell against one of the walls with a grunt. Nala went to her worried.

“Gran!” Nala yelled, trying to catch her, then trying for eye contact.

Gran nodded, but couldn’t make words.

The old hag was panting, too.

Only Nala seemed unfazed, unaffected by any kind of teleport sickness.

The walls were narrow, the smell was awful, and there was not really room enough for all three of them. The rain was coming down harder now, and rattled against the stiff cloth roof.

“What happened out there?” Ica spat at Akha, as if she were accusing Gran of something.

“I d-d-on’t, uh… I don’t know kn-know what—”

“Did you mean to do that?!” barked Ica. “And don’t lie! Don’t you dare lie to me right now!”

“I have no idea what happened!” Akha cried. She looked very sick, just then, swaying where she stood.

“You’re not supposed to let anyone near the voidbeast!” Ica shouted.

Akha looked like she was about to faint. That did not stop Ica from continuing her tyrade.

“Even if it wasn’t on purpose, losing control like that? Disgraceful! And you call yourself a war-witch.”

“I do not call myself a war-witch,” Akha said. “Not in a hundred moons, and you know that. I was just telling a story, and… and I dunno what! No clue what happened; it just—”

“I did not,” Nala said.

Both the old witches looked at her.

“It’s my fault.”

“What?” barked Ica, scowling.

“What’s your fault?” cooed Akha.

“I broke your vision,” Nala said. “I… I know that boy. I know that forest, and that… thing.”

“I told you,” Gran scolded, “never, ever, to go into that forest.”

“I know.”

“Mount Wraithwood is a dangerous, dangerous place, even for a—”

“I didn’t go into the forest,” Nala interrupted. “I didn’t have to.”

“Didn’t have to?” Ica said.

“It was in a dream. Well, not a dream— dreams. Many dreams.”

“How many?” Ica said.

The question caught Nala off guard. “I’ve never… I mean, I don’t count them.”

“Guess.”

“A lot.”

Ica nodded slow, her mouth grim. Her hollow eye seemed to sink into its own shadow, and Nala’s belly murmured, mmmm….

Gran’s eyes went dizzy. “I… Is there anywhere to sit down?”

“No,” said Ica, keeping her eye fixed on Nala.

Eager to look at anything but the hag, Nala’s eyes adjusted to the unnatural darkness of her surroundings. The more she looked, the more she wondered…

“Where are we?” Nala said. It looked like the inside of a closet, made three times as big, with nine times as much stuff. There was a window in the roof of the… hut? Cart? Nala became aware that the floor creaked each time somone even shifted their weight. They were definitely inside of Ica’s cart, packed full of junk and stinking of fish and incense.

As Akha tried to sit on something, Ica let out a remarkable screech, and her one eye went wide as wide.

“I said don’t sit! We’re not out of the nettles yet.”

Then, Ica turned her wild eye at Nala.

“Now…” grumbled the hag. “Tell me about these dreams.”

* * * * / * * * *

Next chapter: The Ring of Shadow

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