Immortal Transition

by K J Carr

  I was so tired. I just wanted to lose myself in the warm darkness.

  Inias placed a hand on my forehead, sliding it down to cover my eyes. “Sleep, Nica. We’ve got you.” I felt TK move away with a scuffle. The last thing I remembered feeling was as if I was moving through air.

  And then I felt nothing more.

  Chapter 20

  I felt strange. Not quite like myself. I wanted to climb out of the sludge my mind was in, and yet I couldn’t. Something was holding me back. I couldn’t wake, I couldn’t move, I couldn’t….

  I could think, though, and my mind was throwing things rapidly at me. Most I couldn’t remember much about after they flashed through my mind. The first thing that stuck with me was something I had seen before. A warrior Angel.

  This angel didn’t look like Malak or the twins. It didn’t even look like Enoch. She – because somehow, I knew it was a woman – looked to be on a higher level. A feeling of power emanated off her, as well as a feeling of confidence and fairness. She stood tall and straight, her curly hair dark but with some sort of lavender highlights. I couldn’t see her face, though, because she wore a silver helmet that covered her forehead and cheekbones, leaving only her eyes and mouth free. Those eyes glinted and sparkled, like stars in a night sky.

  Her armor was somewhat fitted, showing her curves and yet not drawing immediate attention to them. The silver material it was made from had a purple tint throughout it. She carried a large staff with glowing runes in one hand, and there was a shining sword strapped to her waist. The main feelings I got from her was of Justice.

  At her feet, sat a dragon. Its head reached her waist and she had her free hand resting on top of it. The dragon’s body was against her, as if it was leaning into her touch. It appeared as if it was both being protected by and protecting her. It was gold in color and had a long tail with a series of barbs on the end, that was curled around its legs. There were long dark claws on its forefeet and even longer, sharp teeth in its mouth, which was partially open as if it was scenting the air.

  I wanted to be that woman. I yearned to be her. I could almost feel the warm scales under my fingers and my mind cried out: Mine!

  I knew that was wrong, though. I didn’t have a dragon, but a daemon. My daemon was a lesser one at that. This dragon did not need my protection nor my help. So, I was confused as to why I would think it was mine.

  Then the vision changed.

  I dreamed of Malak. Not the Malak I knew now, but a younger, perhaps more human, Malak. He was running, looking over his shoulders, fear etched on his face. His hair was longer, curlier. His eyes were just as dark, particularly when filled with horror. He was leaner than he is now, but still taller than most around him.

  I didn’t recognize the place since all I saw were buildings, but those didn’t quite look right. They were stone and appeared almost medieval in design. Still, there were many of them, close together, and he was darting between them, as if looking for a place to hide.

  I felt his fear, his need to get away, his despair that he wouldn’t be able to. And then he came to a dead end. The alley way had no way out. He turned, his back to the wall. He pulled out a small dagger and a look of resignation came over his face.

  I heard a laugh – evil sounding, deep enough to cause a hum in one’s bones. He feinted to the left, a cry coming from his mouth, perhaps a name. But there was no sound in this vision, nothing to tell me who he had called to.

  A sword came swinging at him, and he ducked, pivoting to the side away from it. But then a staff hit him in the back and he stumbled forward. Another swipe of the sword, broadside, hit his head and he went down.

  Someone kicked him over. I could see, as if through his eyes, a tall man looking down on him, one foot on his chest, his pale grey eyes emotionless. The man’s face was still, as he raised the sword with both hands. He hesitated.

  I was wondering why, when I saw a dark hand with long claws for nails reach out and push something against Malak’s chest. His back arched in pain as the small dark dot disappeared, melting into his skin. I heard laughter, and then Malak laid still, his chest only moving as he struggled to take in air.

  The sword only hung above him a moment longer and then it plunged down, right into his heart.

  What had been done to Malak? What was that dot?

  And where were his Hyrs to help with his transition?

  My mind drifted.

  I am not sure how much time had passed before the next vision came.

  This one was of a different world. One that was brighter than Earth. Two suns – one red, the other a dark orange – hung in the air, the sky an emerald green. The ground was somewhat barren looking – filled with scruffy plants and what looked like either sand or loose dirt. Yet, I could see water falling down a nearby rock face, so there was water on this world.

  This time I felt like I had more control over what I could see in this vision. I turned and noticed a large lizard, sunning itself on the rock. No, not a lizard. A dragon. One that looked a lot like the one I had seen before in my dreams. Its golden scales were bright, as if they were soaking up the sun’s energy for the beast. Its wings were stretched out behind it – thin, leathery-looking, but also looking strong.

  Its head came up, alarm crossing its face. Before I could even wonder what had startled it, he – for it appeared to be a male – jumped into the air, its powerful wings taking it far with just one beat. Somehow, I traveled with him, as if I was tied to him somehow.

  He cried out a battle cry and spiraled down quickly, driving for a dark form below him. At the last minute, he pulled up slightly and breathed out fire at the man.

  There was an old woman standing nearby, her back against the wall, her hand out to try to stop the dragon. Worry was on her face. Her hands were already bleeding, I assumed from the attack of the man in front of her. I turned to look at him and gasped.

  Achilah!

  With that, I was with the dragon, wanting to lend him my anger and strength. Achilah turned and attacked the dragon, using a staff to batter at the beast. He got a few good whacks before the dragon grabbed his arm, biting down. I could see the pain in the daemon’s face and I mentally cheered. The dragon, though, let go and moved between the old lady and the daemon, setting up a defensive position.

  The woman cried, the tears streaming down her face. I wondered why, since the dragon seemed to have the upper hand. Until Achilah dropped the staff and drew his sword. The dragon attacked, and they fought. Unfortunately, Achilah was able to slice through the dragon’s scales easily with his blade. The old woman kept crying and speaking to the young dragon, but he just fought on. Until he couldn’t.

  Achilah stood with his foot on the dragon’s neck. He laughed and said something to the old woman and she sank down to the ground in grief. The daemon poked the beast with his foot, snarled something, and then reached down to touch him. I cried out, thinking he was killing such a glorious being, until I saw it was something worse. The dragon changed. He became something else. And Achilah laughed before throwing it over his shoulder, grabbing the old woman’s wrist roughly and disappearing.

  The next vision I had showed Achilah. There was no sign of the old woman nor the dragon. I mourned and worried for both.

  When I first saw the daemon, he was younger and looked more carefree. He followed behind an older boy, trying to keep up. The older boy ignored him, as he was following the men near him, trying to be like them. Whenever Achilah got under foot, the older boy would yell at him and shoo him off. The father, though, was worse. He would hit the young boy and calmly throw him on the ground, walking away from him. Achilah would whimper, trying not to cry, and then get back up, the determination strong on his face.

  This Achilah caused my heart to ache. This boy was trying to be like his father, his brother, the other men in his community and they always slapped him down, literally. I watched as he learned to use the same techniques with boys younger than him, while still yearning for the acceptance
of those older. I watched him begin to love the power over those weaker than him. He accepted only as his friends those he could dominate and yet could also give him a good fight. His gang became worse as they grew older, slowly going after women and other children in the community.

  His father, though, just watched with his cold eyes, even stopping his older brother from interfering with Achilah’s reign of terror. Finally, his brother left in a burst of anger, after arguing with his father. Achilah watched his brother leave, a look of anguish briefly crossing his face, until his father beat him, for driving his older brother away. I watched as the beaten boy hid himself, under an old house, and finally gave into his need to cry. He stayed there for days, before he finally dragged himself out and went to the nearby stream to wash away the blood and his tears. I could see that he was determined not to cry any more.

  He moved out into the woods, catching small animals for food and healing his wounds. Once he was stronger, he started pushing himself, building his strength and endurance.

  I wasn’t sure how long it had been when the boy returned to his village. He wore his scars proudly as he walked towards his father’s house. He found his father and he beat him, leaving his father broken on the ground, before going to find his gang. He killed one boy before they submitted to him. And he became king of the town, in all but name.

  I saw when his brother returned to the town. He had changed, tall and fierce, his red-gold hair braided back. And he told Achilah of his change and how it came about. I am not sure how I knew this, but the telling was something that shouldn’t have been done.

  Achilah now had a new goal. He acted differently. He gave the appearance of being a good and law-abiding man, while having his gang be his strong arm. His second in command would carry out all the unsavory tasks that Achilah needed to have done, while Achilah looked like an upstanding citizen of the town.

  I watched as the Tennin came and gave him a decision. And then I screamed in fury as he became a Transitioner. I realized, that all a person really needed to change from human to Angel was intent. The human had to want to become an angel. Even if the human was evil, that wouldn’t stop the Tennin from giving them the choice.

  Smoldering, I watched on. I watched Achilah die and Transition. Except, when he came out of his transition, he wasn’t Tennin. He had become a daemon. I didn’t see why. The Tennin didn’t appear to understand why either. They tried to kill him, but he escaped.

  I realized then, that there was more to a situation than we might see at first glance. This boy had been made, by his circumstances and his environment. He had become what he had by a flip of a coin, when he had started out a bright and eager young man. Yes, he had chosen the wrong path to continue down. But this could have been anyone. It could have been me, if I hadn’t had Marcus to keep me going in the right direction. It could have been me.

  More time passed. I had a brief glimpse of Achilah, lying on a table, his insides torn out, his arms and legs bound. He was alone and in the dark. And now I wondered, if there was any way to redeem this man who had started out with promise but had suffered through so much pain to become who he is.

  My very last vision was short and had sound. It was the old woman and she spoke to me.

  “You will become a part of the balance of the worlds. You are a Warrior Angel. You must free your Protector, who is close to you now. Find him, for he will add to your supremacy.

  “We have not had a Power in a while. While there are other missing slots in the hierarchical structure, yours is the one we must fix first. You are the catalyst. You are the balance we have been missing.

  “It will not be easy, little one. But you already are on your way. You are merging with the other part of your soul, which had been waiting a long time for you. You have found your protector, but you still must free him from imprisonment. And you have kept love in your life, which will only grow with you over time.

  “You must overcome Achilah and what he represents. Change this situation into something greater, something we can use to fight against evil in the world. Or else we will be overwhelmed with darkness. This is for all worlds. This is the prophecy that Achilah unknowingly activated. This is your prophecy.”

  Chapter 21

  Wake up, Nica.

  I wanted to ignore the words. It was nice here, floating in the dark. Warm. Safe.

  No one attacking me, no one hurting me…no training. Just sleep.

  Sleep interrupted with vivid dreams, many which I didn’t want to see.

  But there was no Marcus or Kaitie. No T’Koran. No Malak, Ridwan or Inias. No interactions.

  Marcus and Kaitie are fine, Nica. It is now time for you to wake.

  I wanted to bat at the words. I wanted to tell them to leave me alone. I was glad my family was okay — safe. That meant I was fine staying here in the darkness. They didn’t need me.

  And yet…

  Jennica Maykis! You need to return to the living. There are those who need you!

  “Geez, El. Okay already.” I mumbled, my lips dry. I heard noise nearby and then footsteps running away from me.

  I blinked open my eyes and instantly closed them again. Too bright!

  More footsteps appeared, heavier ones, coming towards me now. Then there was the shushing of curtains being closed. Someone stepped closer and leaned over me, touching my cheek.

  “Nica?” That sounded like Ridwan.

  “Uh-huh?” I muttered, my tongue not wanting to work right.

  “Open your eyes, Nica.” That sounded like Inias. And an Inias that was amused about something.

  I slit my eyes open. The room was now darker, the light having been muted. Images at first appeared blurry, so I blinked several times. Finally, things came a little more into focus.

  I looked up at four pairs of eyes. Ridwan and Inias were the closest, but Malak and Enoch were watching over their shoulders. I saw Malak’s eyes open wide, but he was the only one to react.

  Geez, I felt like I was an attraction in a zoo or something.

  “How do you feel?” Ridwan asked.

  “Thirsty,” I rasped out. My throat felt dry and gritty. Malak reached over Ridwan’s shoulder with a cup. Ridwan added a straw and let me have a few sips.

  “Now?”

  I thought about it, wiggling toes and fingers. “Better. Everything appears to work.” I glanced back up to him. “Was I sick?”

  The two men nearest me exchanged a glance and then Ridwan looked over his shoulder at Enoch.

  He just nodded.

  Ridwan turned around to study me. “You have transitioned. You died, but we were there to catch you.”

  Okay. So that was the truth. I am not sure how I knew that, but I did know he wasn’t lying to me. Except, it wasn’t the full truth. He was leaving something out. I couldn’t quite figure out what, though. And my brain felt too woozy to try right now. I let it go.

  I tried to sit up because this ‘Lying flat on one’s back while others lean over you’ shit was as demeaning as hell. Inias helped me, while Ridwan pushed an extra pillow behind my back.

  I wiggled to get a little more comfortable and then looked at the four men. Malak looked like pure hell. There were dark circles under his eyes and he appeared to have lost a bit of weight. His skin was sallow, as if he hadn’t seen the sun in a while, which was weird since he was generally a darker-skinned man; his skin-tone once was a golden brown. He looked sick.

  Inias and Ridwan both looked okay, but I could sense how worried they were. They were both watching me very closely. Enoch, as usual, was hard to read. His face was void of emotion, but that was typical. Something in his eyes, though, made me nervous.

  “Okay, guys, what’s wrong? Am I pink with purple dots all over me?” I smiled uncertainly at them.

  Again, they all glanced at each other and then Enoch. He sighed, his face relaxing a bit.

  “The power of Tennins is generally gauged by how long it takes for them to transition,” he started and then paused. “The long
er it takes, the more powerful you are and the higher on the hierarchy you will be.”

  Oh, gods! I probably was only out a day or less! I felt like I only had just died, so it couldn’t have been long. They were worried because they thought I was supposed to be this super Tennin, with all these great powers. No wondered they were looking so worried.

  “How long were you out? What is the average for Kri’s?” I looked at Malak.

  He started to answer but nothing came out. Enoch glared at him for a moment and then turned back and answered me. “Kri’s generally are out anywhere from three to five days. Malak was around a week.”

  Huh. I looked between Inias and Ridwan. Inias answered. “Hyrs typically take about two weeks to a month to transition. Both of us were closer to a month, with Ridwan actually taking a tad over one month.”

  Well. That was interesting. I would have thought Inias was the stronger of the two. I guess that laid back attitude hid a real powerhouse.

  Ridwan just shrugged sheepishly, his eyes down, but his lips turned up into a smirk.

  Enoch continued. “And those of us at the top take around six months to transition.”

  The silence then was a bit heavy. Damn. Here I go again, a disappointment. Might as well bite the bullet and just ask.

  “So…. I was out just hours, right? At most a couple of days?” I was trying to be objective, but my shoulders did droop a little.

  The silence was deafening. This must be bad. Before I had the chance to tell them to just let it go, I got my answer.

  “Almost a year, Nica.” Malak’s voice was hoarse, as if he hadn’t used it much recently.

  “One…. year?” I gasped. I was having a problem wrapping my head around that. I had been in a coma for a year. Damn!

  Inias nodded. “We almost thought that you had truly died, but Ridwan and I could still feel your essence in your body – but it was different, changed, somehow.”

  “This has never happened.” Enoch frowned. I knew he didn’t like things he didn’t understand, and right now, that was me.