Blush Born Chapter 8 Colorless

The Full Chapter Text With A Breakdown Following

The Triumvirate of Aught Generated by Substack

Welcome to Find Your Colors. I am Jeff B. White, and I am the author of the Shards of Color Trilogy.

Find Your Colors is a Substack publication and Spotify podcast through which I am breaking down the psychological concepts that are present within the trilogy, and I explain the true story that inspired the first book in the Shards of Color Trilogy, which is titled BLUSH BORN.

Blush Born is a work of speculative fiction that tells a dystopian fairy tale about a boy who is too vibrant for the world he was born in, so he has no choice but to change that world.

Last week, I shared Chapter 7, where we saw Jethran being marched back to the city by his mandated hereman, Martier. Jethran finally released years of pent-up anger and frustration that he had been holding against Martier for nearly his entire life. We also got a glimpse as Jethran began to display some unique aspects of his power.

This week we are talking about Chapter 8, where he has arrived at the Uncrowned Fortress and is going to stand trial for his crimes.

Trumpian Absurdity

Chapter 8

Colorless

Martier shoveled Jethran forward into the Uncrowned Fortress. The massive gray doors boomed shut behind him, sealing him in the heart of the Uncrowned King’s power. The air inside smelled of damp stone. This place was the source of silence. This is where sound came to die.

Jethran was immediately taken by a new set of BAPs. The Big Aught Police who worked at the Uncrowned Fortress were far more severe. Over their robes, they wore metal armor that had been polished so that you could see your reflection. Their faces were stoic and their loyalty was unquestioned.

They led Jethran through a labyrinth of identical corridors, his every step echoing with the weight of the danger that he was facing. The only variance in the oppressive architecture was the occasional effigy of the King, his face promising order through absolute control.

Jethran was to be examined and judged, processed like grain, either stored or discarded. His first stop was a circular chamber. The walls seemed to swallow him. The vibrancy of his colors seemed subdued by the overwhelming space. In the center of the room stood a single stone pedestal, and seated around it were the three figures he recognized from the posters around the city and official decrees. They were the Triumvirate of Aught, whom everyone simply knew as the TriAught, the highest among the Big Aught Council.

The first to speak was the Yoke of Youth, a person of advanced age, whose purpose was the enacting of laws that related to herelings. Her voice came out as a wet gurgle, the sound of a throat long unused to words, as if she were dredging them up from a place of damp silence.

“You stand before us today accused of Malicious Vibrancy and Mass Emoting,” she retched. “Our founding treatises speak only of the dormancy of the Gray. This… aberration. It is an unseemly dismount from order. Being accused of such terroristic acts is to be guilty of them. You will be held accountable with the most compliant form of law.”

“But I have done nothing malicious,” Jethran corrected. “And I’ve only felt the feelings that I feel. I have no control over how others feel.”

“You do control how others feel by simply existing in this form of colorful disgrace,” the Yoke heaved the words out as if she was being drowned by the air itself. “The herelings, being of simpler minds, will see this vibrancy and believe it is permissible. Joy is a... a loud state, not proscribed for public display. It is, by its nature, a disruption of the sanctioned quiet. We must shield all Here, most importantly the lings, from the burden of this... this novelty of feelings.”

“Who I am is not a novelty,” Jethran said defiantly, his voice steady. “It is simply who I am. The herelings understand more than you realize. If we have feelings, who are you to deny us that?”

“We are those who decide,” the Yoke replied. “We are those who deny. The very foundation of our society is built upon that denial. It is the basis of the laws of Order. We decide for the betterment of all Here. You are guilty of treason and terroristic terraforming.”

Next was the Author of Autonomy. He was a hereman never married and raised by four older brothers. His job was to create laws regarding the wem. His skin was now a vibrant purple and he stood as proof that the colors were seeping into all parts of the world and the days of the gray were coming to an end.

“Whoa, chill, little man. It’s not about feelings, it’s about the system. The system is primo. Your whole deal, it’s a total failure of breeding, my dude. Your mom, way too emotional. Total Downer. She curdled your spirit, bro. Order is about the max laid back. It’s precision. You’re messing with the entire system. Like, look at what you’ve done to my skin.”

Jethran felt an unfamiliar spark pulsing from his Blush. A new feeling that he didn’t quite have a name for yet, but one that he did not like.

“My mother is kind and pure,” Jethran retorted. “People are just messy and imperfect, they’re not precision systems managed and bred into compliance. If this is what you look like under the gray, maybe this is truly who you are.”

“Nah. I’m gray, little dude,” the Author barked. “Gray as it gets.”

A violently exhausted sigh came from the remaining member of the TriAught. Jethran turned to see the Arbiter of Aging staring at him with cold, empty eyes. This person was a vapid and pedantic teenager who was charged with drafting the laws for the elderhere. His normal gray hair was now a perfectly coiffed cobalt. He seemed bored and he stared for longer than Jethran was comfortable. Jethran turned behind him to see if there was someone there, but there wasn’t.

“So…” Jethran started towards the exit. “Am I done here?“

“Not gonna lie, Jethrathan, this little menty-b you’re trying to pull ain’t it. It’s giving major cheugy vibes and is anti-chill. Evenhere isn’t even here for this. You want this whole throwback and no. It’s a hard pass. The Olds. They’ve got enough problems. The smells they make. That skin. No one wants to see that. And even less with color. You’ve fully made it the vibe we can’t ignore. It’s not the look. Low-key like I get it, you feel like having your little main character moment. But we’re not doing that this year.”

“But isn’t it beautiful?” Jethran asked. “The life that grows from the deepest wound?”

“Omigod. No,” the Arbiter huffed. “It’s mad annoying. I deadass just broke it down, what’s not clicking? You are so exhausting, I’m completely overstim and now I have to go lay down. Thanks for that.”

As he spoke, the purple ring on his cheek pulsed with a soft inner light. The TriAught stared, taken aback. They had no protocol for this quiet, philosophical defiance.

The Yoke of Youth cleared her throat with a startling sound that caused the Arbiter of Aging to leave his seat and stand a few feet away.

“You speak of beauty, but you radiate rebellion,” she rattled out. “You fought back against the Medic’s care and stained the King’s own banners with your defiant color! You curse us all with your defiled shades.”

“Little bro is a grotesque flawed color,” the Author said. “He makes a spectacle of himself, demanding attention!”

“I’m beautiful,” Jethran stated simply. “I don’t need your attention. Pay attention to yourselves.”

This declaration was Jethran stating his truth out loud. It caused the purple of his blush to flare, which gave him an idea.

“See yourself,” Jethran said as he raised his hand towards the Arbiter.

A wash of purple light flowed from him and landed on the young lawmaker. He tried to escape it, but it was all-encompassing. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to make himself small so that maybe the light would pass over him. When he opened his eyes again, he saw his reflection in the armor of a nearby BAP.

“I mean really,” the Arbiter cooed, as he turned his head to one side then back again. “Of course, I am a full-on moment. I already knew that. Literally no one is denying the fact that I’m flawless. You can’t clock me.”

Jethran didn’t take into account that the Arbiter of Aging was already in love with himself. Any negative aspect of himself that he finds, he will immediately locate the positive spin for it.

The Yoke pointed a trembling finger. “The Uncrowned King will ensure that you face the most severe punishment for causing that manchild to fall more in love with himself than he already is! You are a single, broken lyric in a perfect, silent chord.”

Jethran watched as he realized the mistake he had made. The Arbiter was performing a full fashion show simply to celebrate himself.

“I am not a broken lyric. I am the wounded note of a song you have forgotten how to hear.” His voice rang with a power that silenced the hall. With his last declaration, the mallowed pink of his Blush emanated with a vibrant rhythm.

The Yoke and the Author stared, drowned by a wave of unease. Finally, the Author gave the signal and the BAPs grabbed Jethran’s arms. As they began to drag him away, the colors on his face subsided, returning to a still radiance.

“Wait, wait!” The Author shouted out. “I have one more question, little man.” He leaned forward with a look of genuine curiosity that was mixed with a morbid expression that truly made Jethran nervous.

“Where’s your hand, bro?” The Author asked.

Jethran looked down his arm, and then back up at the three architects of the gray.

“I was trying to be compliant,” Jethran stated clearly as he raised his arm for them to see. “This is what conformity looks like.”

“Ew. Gross,” the Arbiter spat with a thick condescension. “So you’re trying to say that you did that on purpose. You meant to do that? And the potters in the Eastern Hills, they ganked your hand with consent?”

“No,” Jethran said quietly as he looked down at the floor. “They did not.”

His last stop was the most chilling. It was a small, clean room, smelling of sterile herbs. Waiting there for him was the Big Aught Medic.

“Oh, there’s something different about you,” Jethran said squinting. “What is it?”

“Subject JF-3529 is here. Inside the laboratory,” the Medic said to a small recording device. “Having full unfettered access to It will be monumental regarding my research on numerous plans.”

Jethran didn't know what plans he meant, but he knew he needed to do everything he could do be sure to revoke access as soon as possible.

The Medic wasn’t looking at Jethran’s face. Instead, he was only paying attention to the mangled stump where his left hand should have been.

“It’s left manus has been exarticulated,” the Medic noted.

“You’re blue!” Jethran shouted as he finally realized. “It’s faint, it’s barely there. But it is! And your eyes! The left one… is that… is it purple?”

The BAPs stepped forward as they leaned in, trying to see it. They could perceive no color on the Medic.

“I have been negatively affected by the contagion of your Flaw,” the Medic halted. “My vibrancy will not interrupt this examination.”

“Vibrancy?” Jethran laughed. “I don’t think that’s what it’s called. You can barely notice it.”

“I notice it,” the Medic snapped. “It’s all I can see. I was a pure gray. You stained me with your contagion. But I will find out how to rectify this. I will not live with this shame.”

Jethran almost felt bad for him when he saw how deeply the Medic was affected. But, that empathy was short-lived.

“This examination will proceed. No further need for attempts at conversation,” the Medic continued.

“The precision of the procedure alludes to having been performed by the potters in the eastern village. The wound is stained with a purple blood, a clear sign the Flaw has progressed beyond mere coloration.”

Jethran watched as the hereman stepped over to the gray cabinet against the wall and removed a bottle of pills. It was identical to the bottle that he had left at Jethran’s apartment.

“A second, stronger dose of the corrective agent is required before It is presented,” the Medic said as began removing two pills this time instead of one.

“No,” Jethran said again, his voice holding a quiet authority.

“Hold It down,” he commanded the BAPs.

The Medic wouldn’t meet his eyes. He saw the defiance as a symptom. As the BAPs moved forward, Jethran decided to try something he hadn’t done before. He wasn’t sure it would work, but he chose to exhale the Mist of Muralis into the room. The BAPs stood around, looking confused for a moment. The Medic was clearly affected.

“I must apologize,” the Medic said. “I seem to have forgotten where we were in this examination.”

“Oh, yeah. You had just given the larger dose for the Attention Necessity. I'm tellin’ you, I feel less colorful already,” he said, his voice steady. “I think you said you needed to dress thid wound properly and provide something for the pain before I was presented.”

The Medic blinked, his mind struggling to catch up. The instructions sounded plausible. To question them would be to admit his own incompetence.

“Yes. Of course,” he said. Trembling, he turned to his large medical satchel, retrieved fresh bandages and a single-dose analgesic injector, and worked quickly.

“Okay… we're all… we're done with this now,” the Medic said, eager to conclude the interaction.

“And the med kit?” Jethran asked, his tone casual. “You said I would require a med kit… or something?”

“Correct. Standard issue,” the Medic paused, then gave a sharp nod, as if recalling the detail himself.

He reached into his satchel and retrieved a small, gray box, handing it to Jethran. Jethran took the box, his expression neutral, and tucked it into his own satchel. Just then a BAP entered the room. He noticed the two who were already present leaning against the wall in a haze, then glared at the Medic. “The King is asking why the exam is taking so long”

“The exam has concluded. I have acquired the necessary information to make a proper assessment. He can please leave now,” the Medic stated.

Jethran was led to a lavish dining hall. At the head of a long table sat the Uncrowned King, a hereman with gray skin and unsettling orange hair. He smiled as Jethran was brought in, a wide, slimy smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Jethran Frye,” the King said, his voice a self-satisfied purr. “A lot of people are talking about you. They say, ‘King, what are we going to do about this boy? This very, very colorful boy?’ And I say, we’re going to be very strong, and also very fair. Nobody is fairer than we are. Sit down. Sit down. You’re going to love this dinner. It’s the best.”

The BAPs shoved Jethran into the chair. The King was smaller than Jethran imagined. Almost frail.

“It’s a tremendous thing you have here,” the King said, gesturing vaguely at Jethran’s face.

“The colors. Very powerful.” He patted his own orange-tinted hair. “I know all too well about the colors. Chaos, you know. They make people brave. Stupid. I have the best colors, too, you know. But mine aren't stupid or brave. Mine are smart colors. Everyone says so.”

“But yours, it’s something else. A lot of people are saying it’s a flaw. A disaster even. And maybe it is. But it’s a very interesting disaster. You’ve got everyone talking at least. You’re famous! And I made you famous, really. By noticing you. You know, you should be thanking me.”

The King paused and waited for the gratitude. Jethran said nothing. He watched this man, a tyrant playing the part of a gracious host. Jethran felt the King’s fear like a foul odor in the room.

“And you’ve had a huge effect,” the King continued as a servant placed a plate of gray meat before him. He began eating, not bothering to chew and swallow before speaking.

“We’re getting reports from all over. The Here, they’re changing. The purple is making them love themselves, celebrating their pain. Sad! Sad! They should want to be perfect, like me. Hide their wounds, not display them. It’s very messy. That’s very, very bad for Evenhere.”

The King’s words, meant to be a warning, landed like a revelation. Jethran’s heart soared. He was changing more than the world, he was changing the people. His pain was becoming their liberation.

“But we can fix this,” the King said, leaning forward. “You and me. We’re the powerful ones. These other people, the Aughts, they’re very loyal, but they’re simple. They don’t get it. You and me, we can manage this. We have the best therapies. Discoloration therapy.”

“Therapy?” Jethran asked.

“Right, we can make you clean, make you perfect. Make you Gray again. Don’t you want to be normal? We can even replace your hand. It’ll be so easy, you won’t even believe it,” the King said.

“Or, we could work together,” he offered something Jethran knew he had no intention to give. “You could be my… colorful advisor. We’d be a tremendous team. Imagine it. My order, your color. Unbeatable.”

Jethran looked at the slimy, fearful hereman and he didn't feel anger, but felt a profound sense of pity. The King wasn’t a god. He was a small hereman trying to put a storm back in a bottle. He had already lost.

“I’m not dirty and there is no therapy that can remove these colors from me,” Jethran said, his voice clear and strong. “They are not a sickness. I can't be gray again, because I never was gray in the first place. And I never will be. My colors are a part of me. You can’t remove them from the world. Why are you with color anyway?”

“You call it a disaster that the Here are starting to love their scars, but a scar is just a story of survival. You call it bad for Evenhere, but a kingdom that relies on weakness is not a kingdom at all. It’s a cage.”

The King’s smile vanished, his face contorting with a raw, petulant rage.

“Wrong!” he shouted, his voice shrill. “You’re wrong. I made this world perfect. I took away the chaos, the pain! I gave them peace!”

“You built a cage,” Jethran said, his chair scraping back loudly as he stood. “You hold yourself prisoner. You took away their pain, but you also took away their joy. You took away your own freedom, and theirs. The people finally remember what it feels like to fly and the cage door is open.”

“How could you possibly know about that?” The Uncrowned King stumbled backward, as his skin turned almost completely white. “You couldn't be… you're just a boy!“

“What did you say?“ Jethran demanded. “Couldn’t be what?”

The King slammed his fists on the table, his face drenched with a cold sweat. “BAPs! Get him out of here! He’s a nobody! A total failure! Take him to the dungeon! Let’s see him weave out of the Under Prison!”

Jethran was dragged from the hall. He didn’t understand why, but he knew he had done something to terrify the man.

The Uncrowned echoed with screams as Jethran was taken down, down into the fortress, to a solitary prison cell. The walls, the floor, and the ceiling were carved from a single piece of polished stone. It was like being locked inside the gray sky. The heavy door boomed shut, and he was left alone with nothing but his own defiant colors.

The Breakdown

An Outlet in the Dark

So, you may have recognized some possible inspiration for some of these characters. When I was trying to think of who would be the best antagonist for this story, I decided I wanted an ensemble. I wanted someone to match the Seven Songs by creating their opposites. I also wanted to have a moment of pure satirical social commentary to release some of the angst that I have personally built up over the state of affairs of this nation and the world that we’re living in right now. It’s been a frustrating couple of years, and I was able to create this mytho-political landscape that directly speaks to the way things are today.

I also wanted to create someone who was the antithesis of Jethran. Someone who held the opposite of hope and was afraid of his emotions and afraid of the color. As I was trying to draft his specific voice, I decided to pull from real-life inspiration. The creation of the Uncrowned King came into being when I was watching the No Kings Protest that occurred directly after the 2024 election. I had also recently read the Project 2025 manifesto.

For me, I was reading a blueprint of a man who was trying to manufacture his own kingship in our modern world. At the time, there was nothing scarier I could possibly imagine than that. So, I decided to write that into the story.

This is a man who is a leader because he uses propaganda and deceit to control and manipulate the people. He’s created a system of punishment and silencing that forces people to either be too afraid or too complacent to speak up. Because it’s been this way for so long, no one wants to change it, no one thinks they can. This man is the logical conclusion of what happens when we allow our emotions and our free thought to be criminalized.

The Architects of the Order

I had to think of who it is that would allow someone like this to go into power, and that’s when I thought of the Big Aughts. I felt that they needed to be a governing body who is completely disconnected from everyone.

I also considered it would be a necessity to have three main players who are the highest level in the land. These are three of the most disconnected, most absurdist characters in the entire series. They’re all pretty self-explanatory. They all involve fully uneven rule, completely out of touch with who they are representing, and ill-informed.

The Yoke of Youth is so far detached from anything close to being young that she has no concept of what those people need. She is a commentary on our laws being written by ancient people who have no concept of our world and a commentary on how over 20% of American lawmakers are over 70 years old.

The Author of Autonomy was the linchpin of the whole group. He was actually the first of the political side of this story who I immediately thought of and wanted to reate because I wanted to provide commentary on the concept of men in politics who feel the need to legislate the uterus. I just severely wanted to that be a part of this story. Because it is something that I truly find to be an extreme issue that we're faced with today that brings the rights of women to a point of debating their right to proper medical care and in doing so debating their right to live. I find that to be disgusting.

No matter what your opinion is or may be on reproductive rights, I seriously invite you to educate yourself on the services and medical care that Planned Parenthood offers before you align yourself with the belief that they are an organization that does not need to exist.

As well I feel that a mature understanding of the anti-abortion laws that have been recently put into play is necessary for all adults. I do not plan on having a child nor I do plan on having an abortion, however I also do not plan on taking away this very necessary procedure, nor do I support a denial of access to cancer screenings and medical necessities that are offered to women in need through Planned Parenthood.

There are laws that the Author of Autonomy enacts regarding the wem and what they are required to do with their bodies that actually affect the world for decades to come in very surprising ways that I never could have foreseen when I created this character. The entire plot of the fourth book which takes place thirty years after the events of this chapter is answering for the crimes of Author of Autonomy.

Then we have the Arbiter of Aging who is, however, my favorite character out of this entire story across all three books. And he’s my favorite for a lot of reasons. First, he is actually based on a person I know named Jullian. This is an individual who is named in my memoir and, ironically, is also the inspiration behind the character of Fable, whom we meet later in this book.

Fable is the perfect counter-balance to Jethran in all ways. Among the people who have read the books, Fable is the favorite. He is a standout character and is actually at times treated as if he is the star of the series. Which is fine. I translated my life story into a fairy tale in which I'm not even the star of it, but Jullian is. And that is the most accurate translation of my life that will ever exist. The relationship that is forged between Jethran and Fable is something that I find literally to be one of the most inspiring things I’ve ever read. Anytime I'm in a chapter with them and their love and having their relationship being at the forefront I am in tears the entire time. I’m amazed to see that these characters ever lived inside me and that I created them.

What’s even more amazing is that Fable himself is also based on that person Jullian, because Jullian is not in any form or fashion someone I would ever consider the thought of having feelings of love towards in any capacity. I was completely smacked down when I realized that Fable and Jethran were heading towards romance and this version of an iconic love story that I honestly can’t wait for people to read.

The Arbiter of Aging and Fable were created on the same day but it was after I began writing these characters that I started to realize that the Arbiter already naturally hinted at the characterization of Jullian. So I began to write him as the shadow of Fable making these two characters polar opposites of each other. To where I wrote the character of the Arbiter from a point of view of, “What would Fable do or say in this situation, and let the Arbiter do the exact opposite.” Because that is who they are actually based on.

Fable does exist on a foundation that carries quite a bit of Jullian’s well insulated and protected heart in his DNA, his also shares some of the same painful backstory as Jullian. As well his entire race of people have a lot of the similar traditionalist views as Jullian. Conversely, the Arbiter exists with a level of self-centered detachment that speaks more directly towards the manner in which Jullian presents himself as a person. It's highly fictionalized, but containing the same depth.

While I do not believe Jullian himself has ever been responsible for any genocides, that I'm aware of, I also don't believe he's ever spoken out against one.

In my memoir, I describe Julian as a golden retriever narcissist mix, with Disney prince eyes and a heart of gold. But you know, it's the kind of gold that gets that green stuff on your fingers when it gets wet. And while there will be a much deeper exploration of Fable later, he was given the golden retriever heart gold aspects and the sugar. While the Arbiter received the narcissistic stain portions of Jullian. They both got the height and the theatricality as well as the Disney prince eyes. And by making these characters be the same character told in complete shadow of each other, I created two highly memorable characters who are, in their own ways, both an absolute force on the page.

Also, Jullian himself is one of the five people who provided inspiration for the characters in this book who is also a paid subscriber of this substack. So, if your listening… thank you for allowing me to include your powerful narrative within this story. It wouldn't be what it is without what you added to it. So I'm forever grateful.

That alone itself was a challenge, but what was even more challenging was that I had to learn a new language in order to write him. I had to sit down and study the linguistics of GenZese. Later, there’s an entire chapter that’s written from his POV. In order to write that properly, the narrative itself has to lean into his manner of speech, and it’s two of three chapters that I honestly feel, if I would ever call anything that I’ve ever done a masterpiece, that would be it. Those chapters are literally terrifying and also hilarious, and they are even more terrifying because they're so hilarious.

Thankfully, they have online translators where you can type something in standard English and it will provide it to you written in this form of slang. Of course, I couldn’t just trust that, so I also had to go and do my own cross-referencing of the translation that I got, because for some of the things, I didn’t know what they meant and had to make sure that they meant what they were supposed to mean so that he was still having a coherent, understandable, translatable conversation.

What I do find interesting is that what he’s saying does not make any sense, and I don’t know if the other people understand him or not. And my favorite part about him is when he calls Jethran by the incorrect name of Jenrathan. For some reason I find it so delicious. It goes to speak on his self-absorbed and unconcerned with anyone other than himself.

The Comfort of the Gray

In psychology, it’s called anhedonia. It’s the inability to feel joy or pleasure or decreased interest in things one used to enjoy. It's the act of choosing to stay in bed instead of getting up and facing the day, because to face it means you have to face so many other things, even if it is at the cost of doing something you enjoy. It’s the moment when the captive is so accustomed to the cage that even with the door open they refuse to fly out.

The people of Evenhere are known as the Here. Because they don’t do anything, they don’t fight back, they don’t speak up, they’re just Here. It’s one of those situations where people have been in a situation for so long and faced systemic abuse for such an extended period of time, they just become accustomed to it in a way that stops them from speaking back because it’s just comfortable. It’s that worn-out speech that you hear when we discuss the Electoral College and other institutions that have been put in place in this country that are outdated and tired and need to be fought back. It’s that whole tired refrain of “this is just how it’s always been, so why would we change it?”

The Chilling Power of the Absurd

It can be distracting, I've heard, to read the way that some of these characters speak, but that is exactly the point. The voices of these antagonists are so unique and jarring compared to the rest of the Kingdom of Evenhere that they put the disconnect between the leadership and the people on full display.

While these people seem absurd and inept, they remain in power. And that’s what’s chilling about them. They are idiots. They should not be in a position to legislate a single life. Yet they are there because society has been silent and complacent for so long that the status quo has become a cage. These leaders rely on the fact that no one has questioned them for so long that the people have forgotten that they can.

The Uncrowned King is of course a dark mirror of Jethran. We get a deeper exploration into who he is later in the book, but for now, he’s just a narcissist who controls the world through a total disconnect from reality. So I gave him his orange hair as a deliberate act of hypocrisy. He is the head of an order that criminalizes color, yet he wears it on his own head. He’s declared himself the only standard of vibrancy because people are too afraid to see the truth of the man behind the curtain.

It was something that I was kind of pulling from the ending of The Wizard of Oz when after she kills the witch and their soldiers that are there who were just a moment ago were like chasing Dorothy and all of these people you know the all these animals is whatever around the castle with those spears made out of tin foil and like they were doing all of that like they were all gung ho for it. But then the moment that she gets killed feel like, “Oh she's dead. Thank you, thank you so much! We're free now!”

What were you doing you didn't want to be there it just always got to me about that and that's kind of how this story is that everybody is completely supportive of all this and is staying with it just because that's all they know and then once they're shown something different they'll accept something different. But it literally just takes one person standing up.

I bring back the Medic from Chapter 1 for this because, in the grand scheme of things, he’s actually the only one who is moderately intelligent, although he is still just as clueless. But he is truly for me personally the scariest antagonist in the world.

One thing to note about the Medic is that he refers to Jethran by a serial number which holds its own meaning. JF-3529 uses Jethran’s initials, but the numbers are actually the word FLAW if you look at the letters on a touch-tone phone. And of course, he’s completely dehumanized by this code.

I have also had some warnings about these characters that they might be too absurd or satirical. But the problem with that complaint is that’s the point. There are so many people who are in positions of power who don’t deserve it, who shouldn’t be, who are completely absurd and ridiculous and say some of the most outlandish things. Yet they are still in power. And that is the chilling part, that’s what’s scary. That’s what makes these people into some of the most terrifying villains, simply because they are utterly, unacceptably ridiculous, and they are able to make the laws and decide who lives and who dies.

Let's Discuss

• Jethran faced the dark mirror of the Gray Order and experienced in real time the other disconnect between himself as a citizen of the kingdom and those who are in charge of determining his life.

• How are you dealing with this disconnect between reality and our leaders? Are you okay?

• In life we have two types of people we have the ones who just keep their heads down and keep going through the gray with nothing to say and we have those who stand up and speak out and clap back.

• Which one are you?

Feel free to answer in the comments below or just take these questions with you as you go.

What's Next?

Up next we have Chapter 9 Loss of Color. This is going to be the most difficult chapter for my boy Jethran that he has lived through yet. It's going to be a turning point in the book it's going to be a turning point in his life and it's where everything is going to change. If you've been reading these chapters as I've been posting them then you're not going to want to miss this one.

Join the Conversation

Find Your Colors is a reader supported publication on Substack and a listener supported podcast on Spotify Apple Podcast YouTube Podcast and Overcast. You can find us on any of those places simply by searching for the words find your colors or by going to www.findyourcolors.substack.com where I invite you to consider becoming a free or paid subscriber so you can stay in the know when there's updates and new chapters coming out.

And if you happen to come across us or search for us on Spotify or YouTube or apple podcast please take a moment to follow the show and provide a rating and comments to get the conversation started there.

Thanks

The substack is about to hit 30 subscribers and I just think that's so flipping cool. I was not sure what type of response I would get by sharing these things that I've shared through this publication and the fact that I have not been on sub stack for 30 days yet and I'm already at 30 subscribers is just so meaningful and validating. I did not know that I wanted validation but I guess we all do don't we? So thank you for supporting me and for subscribing and thank you to my paid members the paid content is on the way we are just around the corner.

And as always if you have read this all the way to the end or if you have listened to this all the way through then you're absolutely my hero so I want to thank you for allowing me to have the time out of your day and space in your brain to share my story and to introduce Jethran to the world.