'The Colour of Darkness' by Amy Wilson

“Try again.”

I close my eyes and concentrate on calling my power, but I see nothing but darkness rising around me. With a gasp, I open my eyes. “I think there’s something wrong with the spell. I see shadows gathering every time I try it.”

“That’s your power coming as you call. Very good.” She’s smiling, but the smile fades as she sees my expression. “What is it?”

“My power can’t lie in darkness. It’s evil.”

I expect her to shout, to be angry at my ingratitude but instead she crosses the floor and rests her hand lightly on my shoulder. I can feel her callouses through the thin material of my blouse.

“That’s the belief you have been raised with, but it’s too simplistic. Darkness is not evil, it’s merely the absence of light.”

“What if light is the absence of darkness?” I’m just being contrary, but she glances at me as though I’ve said something interesting before she shakes her head, grey curls bobbing.

“No. Darkness is absence. It’s space.” She holds her hands out wide as if to demonstrate. “That’s the point of it. Some practices require space.”

I frown. “I don’t understand.”

“Here. Let me show you.”

She takes my hands in hers and I feel our breathing fall into the same rhythm. The shadows seem to slip from the walls and pour across the floor towards us, pooling like ink at our feet. Now that I’m really looking I can see the colours that swirl within their depths, like the blues and greens hidden in a magpie’s feathers. It isn’t fearsome at all. It’s beautiful.

I hold her hand and look upon my darkness and for the first time I am not afraid.