by Lucia Ashta
Sina believed she’d managed to escape as she made her way steadily through the tunnel toward the water. The tunnel was rarely used; moss and mildew clung to its damp stonewalls, making the walkway slick and dangerous. Sina placed her footfalls carefully. When she finally reached the gate that would lead her to the river, she leaned all of her body weight into it to push it open.
To conceal the tunnel entrance, several generations of temple masters had encouraged vines and moss to hang over it. Trees shadowed the entrance and all but hid it from view. What remained visible, the vines concealed. Just as Sina believed she’d made it, everything went dark. She didn’t even see her attacker.
The chaos within the temple died down slowly. It took a while for the remaining temple masters to discover that no one was hurt, only scared. The attackers had employed tactics of fear expertly. They made each of the students feel vulnerable and isolated by using some kind of concoction that produced a dark, black-swarming smoke. The smoke blinded the pupils to their surroundings. It was so dark and thick that they couldn’t see their hands in front of their faces. They panicked, even though they knew how important it was to hold inner peace no matter what the circumstances. A student screamed, contributing to everyone’s sense of fear.
Students were running into each other, trying to get out of harm’s way. Their chaotic energy kept building until soon every pupil was terrified. The smoke didn’t seem to be of this realm; it carried within it the void of all things, a heaviness that was inexplicable. It brought with it emotions of desperation and absolute defeat. Students felt alone, in smoke so deep and dense that they seemed forever lost in an inkwell. They believed there was no returning from the place they were going.
The sight was shocking for Asara and Anak, and especially so for the temple masters who had run toward the source of the noise. To see students, with a firm foundation in the usage of energy, succumb so readily to the illusions of darkness was stunning. All of them knew how to hold an impregnable energetic field, or so the masters had thought.
Five temple masters, wearing identical white linen robes, golden pendants of a six-pointed star within a perfect circle, and braided hair down the center of their backs, also shared the same bewildered expression. How could it be that these students, some quite advanced in their training, would react like this to a show of smoke and mirrors? Even if the reasons for fear were real, the pupils were well prepared to react in the opposite way they had.
The masters momentarily focused on staving off the enormous disappointment that came from seeing their life’s work seemingly wasted; the masters knew better than to allow for disappointment. Unlike their pupils, they stood strong in their knowingness. They wouldn’t let the tricks of the dark dictate their emotions.
They breathed in a great sense of calm and waited. They waited for the dark smoke to dissipate and for their students to see the error of their ways on their own. But that didn’t happen.
There must be dark magic at play here, Master Tahn realized. The students’ reactions were illogical. After Sina, Tahn was the next natural leader of the temple. Masters were neither elected to be leaders nor appointed. Instead, they recognized where they were at in their individual spiritual growth and understanding. They’d released enough of the human ego’s control to know objectively who could best guide them. And so Tahn, a gentle man of advanced middle age, took over. The pupils needed leadership now.
“You’ll stay still wherever you are.” His instructions rang out over the remnants of chaos, even though he hadn’t raised his voice at all. “You will focus on your breath. You’ll breathe in calm, each time breathing out more and more slowly. You’ll remember who you are and where you came from. You are no mere mortals. You’re divine souls. You’re strong and powerful, connected always to your Creator with knowingness.”
The effect of Tahn’s familiar voice, strong in its gentle understanding of the ways of life, was tangible and immediate. It was as if a veil were falling away from the students’ eyes. The shroud of confusion, of fear and desperation shattered, and clear, crisp eyes remained. With it, the realization of what had happened immediately followed.
One after another, the students pressed their hands together and brought them in front of their hearts. Facing in all different directions, they closed their eyes. Chests grew heavy with the intake of slow, steady breath. Bodies stabilized and regained their inner calm. Connections to Creator were reestablished. Time passed while the masters and the twins watched.
Eventually, a young girl’s eyelids popped open. She understood what had happened and was ready to proceed. She didn’t blame herself for how she’d reacted. She knew that blame didn’t help her or anyone else. Instead, she accepted her reaction and used that acceptance to grow and better understand herself and her strengths and weaknesses.
Gradually, the other pupils in the courtyard followed the young girl’s course of action. Brilliant, strong eyes focused in on the temple masters, ready for guidance. Meanwhile, Master Tahn had been counting. All of the pupils gathered in preparation for their morning moving meditation were accounted for. It was then that Tahn realized Sina wasn’t with them. He swiveled his head back and forth, searching the open area like a falcon. His piercing gaze took in everything at a glance. She was nowhere.
“Students, please remain here until we return. All is well, and you’re safe,” Tahn told the pupils with the same calm voice that he always used with them.
He turned to the other masters and to Asara and Anak.
“Master Sina isn’t with us. Let’s search the temple grounds swiftly and reconvene here.”
No more organization was needed. They separated and went in different directions, checking those parts of the temple that were reserved for the masters. Quickly, the seven of them were able to cover the grounds and determine that Sina wasn’t within the temple walls. They reassembled in the courtyard.
Tahn gasped. It was only then that it dawned on him.
“The tunnels!”
Asara and Anak were perplexed. What tunnels?
“She must have used the ancient tunnels to escape,” Tahn explained. “Sina must have tried to protect the one thing she’d think more important than her duty to defend the pupils of the Temple of Laresu'u Kal.”
He turned to the other masters there. “Will you help the students understand what’s happening?”
They nodded and stepped forward. Tahn talked to Asara and Anak over his shoulder as he walked off.
“Asara, Anak, please come with me.”
Asara and Anak broke into a trot to close the distance between them and the master. He was moving quickly.
Master Tahn and the twins followed Sina’s exit through the concealed door on the far end of the master council meeting room. Asara marveled at the tunnel system that neither she nor Anak had known existed. Where else did the tunnels lead? Did every one of the temples of Arnaka have a hidden tunnel system like this?
Asara abruptly forgot her pondering when they found Sina unconscious. Her limp body lay sprawled inelegantly on the tunnel floor. She made it to see the river, but wasn’t allowed to take even one more step toward it. Her once white robe was muddy and wet; water from the River Haakal pooled on the ground where she lay.
Tahn ran his hands all over Sina’s head and chest, feeling for injuries. He was a gifted healer and immediately gauged the severity of her situation. Without realizing it, he was shaking his head. It didn’t look good. Sina’s heart still beat, but the pulsing was faint and difficult to detect. Her breath was shallow and raspy. Tahn brushed black strands of hair from her face, and then he closed her eyelids to cover vacant eyes.
Even with the depth of Tahn’s skill, Sina might not make it. He’d do everything he could to help her recover, but it was ultimately up to Creator. Everything always was.
Asara and Anak didn’t have to ask for the prognosis. They too sensed how fragile the life force was within the shell of Sina’s body. She was hanging onto life by a thin threa
d. Either that thread would become stronger, or it would grow faint and disconnect. The twins bowed their heads in reverence to that intense moment that held within it the balance of life and death; it held within it the destiny of a soul.
Tahn moved aside the large rock that was used as a weapon against Sina’s left temple. He pulled her head into his lap with a delicacy he reserved for the infirm. He caressed her forehead, his hands eventually losing themselves in dark tangles of hair. Sina’s strong determination was notably absent from the scene.
“Go to the courtyard and return with several strong students. We need to carry Master Sina back to the temple, and we cannot risk injuring her any further. We’ll need to move slowly and surely.”
Tahn turned his eyes up toward Asara and Anak. The seeds of tears blurred his rich, brown eyes.
“Go. Now.”
With their backs already turned, neither Asara nor Anak witnessed what Tahn did next. Uncertain as to what exactly was happening, but sure that Sina must have fled the temple to protect the family heirloom her mother had entrusted her with, Tahn searched for the vial that held Dann’s final prophecy. He guessed that must have been the reason Sina was targeted for attack. Tahn realized it was likely that Sina had already been searched, but he had to check anyway. The secret she guarded was important.
The chord she usually wore around her neck was gone. Red welts around her neck and collarbone indicated that the necklace was forcibly yanked and taken from her. Tahn sank back against the tunnel wall with Sina’s head still on his lap. He sighed in defeat. He knew that Dann’s final prophecy could be dangerous in the wrong hands, even though he didn’t know its content; at the temple, only Sina and Kaanra carried the knowledge of the final prophecy.
Tahn leaned his head back harder than he’d planned, and his head clunked against the moss-covered stones that smelled of age. Tahn slumped forward, placing his hand against the back of his skull, and groaned. Sina’s head moved slightly in response to Tahn’s movement. It was then that Tahn glimpsed what he’d missed before.
Tucked beneath a strap of Sina’s undergarment, a yellowed and frayed edge peeked out. Carefully, Tahn dislodged the hidden fragment. As an extreme precaution, Sina had removed the parchment from the vial as she ran down the length of the tunnel. She still wasn’t certain that the attack was because of Dann’s final prophecy, but she wouldn’t take a chance. She tucked the parchment beneath her tunic and kept running.
Seconds later, she crumbled to the ground. Her final decision had saved the parchment from the hands of darkness.
Now Tahn accepted responsibility for one of humanity’s greatest living secrets. Until Sina woke—if she woke—destiny had chosen him guardian of the final prophecy. Although he wasn’t the oldest of the remaining temple masters of Laresu’u Kal, he was very wise. He knew that knowledge carried with it great responsibility.
He decided to conceal and protect Dann’s final prophecy without learning its content. If Tahn didn’t know what the final prophecy was, he couldn’t put thoughts of it out in the energetic waves of the universe. Those thoughts could become a beacon to the individuals who monitored the energy of light, dark, and everything in between.
Not knowing the final prophecy kept everyone at the Temple of Laresu’u Kal safer. It was the right thing to do. Tahn chose to put his curiosity to rest, prioritizing the pupils and their way of life. He placed the small parchment into a pouch he carried around his waist and turned his mind to the threat that had so unexpectedly descended upon their peaceful traditions.
After more than two hundred years of hunting for the elusive final prophecy, the dark had discovered the secret at last.
You can continue the story in Beyond Amber. Thanks for reading!