by Amy Marie
Table of Contents
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Coming Soon
Bonus Content
About the Author
Acknowledgements
Quintessence
Statera Saga: Book Two
By Amy Marie
Copyright © 2017 Amy Marie
Cover Photography & Design Copyright © 2017 Amy Marie
Edited by Eanna Roberts, Penmanship Editing
Published 2017 by Amy Marie
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
ISBN-13: 978-1544622316
ISBN-10: 1544622317
Thank you for downloading this e-book. This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite e-book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the written permission of the author.
For Anna Lee, Sandy, Juanita, and Ray
my foundation of four.
Table of Contents
Introduction
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Coming Soon
Bonus Content
About the Author
Acknowledgements
“The best and safest thing is to keep a balance in your life, acknowledge the great powers around us and in us. If you can do that, and live that way, you are really a wise man.”
-- Euripides
Introduction
Quintessence is a philosophy in which one central power of the oldest components is surrounded by the four elements to aid in the protection of the remaining existence of celestial bodies or souls. From the beginning of our existence, the composition of our world has been built under the protection of these elements. This protection consists of the perfect balance, and is the only known force that can maintain true harmony and fill the void.
Prologue
1768 - Great Lakes Region
The tribal council stirs in distress. No one is certain of how to handle the prophecy concerning the boy, not even Chief. The elders grasp their smoking clay pipes, desperately hoping for direction to come from the rising wisps.
The women of the village line the longhouse wall, audience to the council. All have tears in their eyes, but only one weeps aloud. The weeping woman’s outstretched arms reach with an empty ache toward her son at the center of attention.
A corpulent tribesman moves to the center of the room to speak. His face crumples into a wrinkled frown as he shakes his Shaman’s staff at Chief, feathers dancing to the tiny percussions of the handle’s rattle. He speaks in the native tongue, explaining his vision involving the maturing young man next to him.
“Prophecies are conundrums that span the vast array of tribes around the wheel of time. Foresight never warns us of the peace that is to come. Who would waste such vigilance? No. Fortunes are bestowed upon the select, with the sole purpose to right the wrong that is on its way. Something big is coming.” The final sentence is emphasized by the rise and fall of his staff in a wide arc.
The speech causes an uproar among the council. The pelt-armored warriors of the tribe stand and beat their fists against their chests, challenging the unknown foe.
“It is not what you think. This is beyond the light-skin invaders. This is from the Great Spirit, a battle unseen, beyond our time.” The Shaman points down the fighters’ aggressions until they take their seats once more.
“And the boy’s place in this?” With his deep resonating voice, Chief silences the crowd.
“I have had a vision. The boy holds powers unknown to us, perceived only by the Great Spirit and the elements of His domain. His naming ceremony at birth was a testament to this power. The boy must now go on a journey. I have seen his path in the fire. He must follow the dark flower to meet the one who is messenger of the white man. This can only take place where the dark meets the light. He will be a weapon of the arsenal, the foundation of four, which will defeat the evil that threatens the nature of our existence.”
All eyes fall on the young man. He stands unblinking, masking any reaction to the Shaman’s words. His round face is showing hints of sharp angles through his nose and cheekbones as he grows towards his prime age of manhood.
“Shkote’Nsi,” Chief says, addressing the young man, “I remember well the story of your birth. Upon your first cry, a burning ember leapt from the fire, as if to answer your call. You were named for the spirit of fire inside of you, which called the ember forward. You have been raised by the Keepers of Fire, do you accept this prophecy as your mission?”
Keeping his eyes from straying to the weeping woman, the boy gives a quick nod. He knows the Shaman’s words to be true. The fire has shown him many things in his dreams, and the flames have told a similar story to this prophecy.
It is decided.
The Shaman performs a blessing over Shkote’Nsi with his staff, and the council chants well wishes. His mother brings a pre-packed leather satchel, and does her best to put on a brave face for her son’s mission. After all the necessary ceremonies are complete, the young man leaves the settlement he knows as home.
Weeks after following the Good River down through the rolling hills and into the territory of the white settlers, Shkote’Nsi stumbles upon a trail of wildflowers painted with the color of death.
The dark flower.
Confident he is on the right path, he settles down to camp for the night. He refuses to call forth the fire for warmth in fear of attracting an omen from the shadows, so he huddles under his fur robe to make rest.
Time passes with the movement of the stars, and the boy’s eyes flutter open. Something has stirred him fro
m sleep.
A dark hooded figure stands over him. The boy wonders in his waking confusion if he is facing Chipiapoos, the spirit of death. He shakes his head to clear his thoughts. That spirit was not part of the prophecy.
“Are you the messenger?” Shkote’Nsi speaks in his native tongue.
The figure’s cloaked head tilts subtly. A gloved hand is outstretched in answer.
The boy hesitates.
The figure stoops to grab a stick, using it to draw a symbol into the dirt:
“Come with me, fire spirit,” the figure whispers in the boy’s native language.
Trusting the figure for recognizing him and showing him the ancient symbol of the elements from his dreams, Shkote’Nsi reaches up to accept the guide. As he is helped to his feet he tries to look past the cloak for a face, but sees... nothing.
“What spirit form are you, messenger?” the boy asks.
Shkote’Nsi does not register the stab of the golden-hilt dagger through the air. Only when the blade has plunged deep into his chest to snuff the flame, does the cloaked figure answer.
“I am no messenger. I am your destructor.”
Chapter 1
We’re fighting again.
It’s the whole opposite thing – light versus dark. There’s nothing balanced about it.
“Darcy, if I look at one more four-point symbol, I’ll go cross-eyed. My head hurts. We’ve been stretching the memories of my mind all day after my dream last night.” I pinch the bridge of my nose to relieve some pressure.
The drill sergeant of darkness narrows his eyes at me. “The dream was a breakthrough, Nora. It has been months since we have had one. And if you are going to be melodramatic about a simple headache, one could easily point out that candlelight would be much better for your ailment than these damn fluorescent bulbs!”
Who’s being melodramatic now?
My chest heaves with a loud sigh. It had been months since our last breakthrough. It was right after the soulless destructor, Marcus Talbot, kidnapped my sister, Char. We’d just learned that there are four elemental souls that are living, breathing people. The same as the dark and the light souls that are a part of Darcy and myself. Our mission now is to find these souls that represent earth, air, water, and fire.
The Statera, our ancient guide against evil, instructs that if we combine the power of the light and the dark, surrounded by the power of these elements, that we’ll somehow be able to defeat the threatening evil – no problem, right?
All we have to do is find four people out of seven billion and convince them to help us because they have ancient, magical souls revolving around the four natural elements – piece of cake.
Not to mention we’ll have to break the curse that has trapped Darcy’s soul into immortality, and twisted his dark powers into a painful sensitivity to sunlight – easy peasy.
My sarcastic thoughts subside as I search Darcy’s eyes for reassurance, but there are mirrored lines of worry surrounding my favorite color of hazel. He’s as stressed as I am.
My voice wavers, “It’s just...It’s...overwhelming.”
The sharp lines on his face disappear as his expression softens. He makes his way over as if to comfort me, but stops himself. “I know,” he replies, his voice quiet. He pretends to examine some paperwork to avoid the awkward moment.
Things haven’t been the same between the two of us. Before Char was taken, our relationship was progressing. That was after I had forgiven him for kidnapping me, of course.
Back then, Darcy saved me from Talbot and was keeping me protected in his home underground, which provides sanctuary against the evil destructor under the protective charm of balancing the elements.
After he explained my connection to the past, the Statera, and a young eighteenth century girl’s soul, Darcy and I began connecting in ways that I’d never experienced. I admit I was hesitant to accept his gentlemanly affections with all the confusion back then, but now their absence has left behind an empty ache.
When I snuck out against his wishes in an attempt to save my sister, my promise to Darcy was broken and I lost his trust. Since then, we haven’t had much time that hasn’t revolved around the stress of our mission.
We’ve been dealing with so many changes in the past few months. The sanctuary, where we live under protection from the destructor, has been expanded through a maze of underground tunnels beneath the Harvard Divinity School campus. There are now two separate great rooms, multiple bedrooms, modern plumbing with hot showers, and much to Darcy’s chagrin, electricity throughout.
After the revelation of the elemental souls, Darcy and I both started having patterned dreams involving variations of four-point symbols. They involved different tribes and cultures; so many people we could barely keep our visions straight. We must have drawn out hundreds of repeated versions of the symbol, but it never led to anything. Then after that – nothing.
It’s been like a dry spell.
Until last night.
The thought brings my dream back to life again.
The tribe, the Shaman, the prophecy, and the young boy who carried the fire elemental soul, all flash like a whirlwind through my mind. Recalling the boy’s destructive end sends a shiver up my spine.
Reading my line of thoughts, Darcy asks for the hundredth time, “You think this prophecy was bringing the boy to us? Or to me and Eleanor, I mean?”
“There’s no doubt,” an elderly gentleman interrupts, stepping into the conversation as he enters the sanctuary.
Char’s great uncle Michael Augustine, or Uncle Mike as we call him, brought me into this ancient mission. The moment he met me, he knew I had the potential to carry the soul of light. He was then responsible for bringing me together with the soul of darkness in Darcy. He and my friend Rafe Clark, short for Raphael, are our guardians in this mission.
“Darcy, I’ve purchased some firewood to store down here as a back-up to the gas fireplaces. With the expansion, I just want to take every precaution that our protection doesn’t waver.” Uncle Mike points to the wall with the large fireplace.
The burning fire within balances the flowing water from the fountain across from it, and is flanked by an underground earth garden and air vents that blow in a fresh breeze from outside. This balance creates a protective charm against the destructor. I like to think of it as the ultimate feng shui spell.
Uncle Mike turns to me and says, “Charity and Raphael have just finished moving the last of your belongings from your apartment into the second sanctuary that you girls will share, now that its updates are complete. Just in time too, the sun has set and we’re back on lockdown.”
Uncle Mike has been vigilant in our schedules after Char’s kidnapping. No one goes out after dark.
The past few months have kept us all cooped up together every night – and the winter in Boston makes for some long nights. While we’re safe from the dangers of Talbot by avoiding the dark of night, there’s a certain danger to having five adults ticking away in restless claustrophobia.
It’ll be easier after today. Char and I have now moved into the second sanctuary, while Darcy, Rafe, and Uncle Mike will be sharing the space in the original. With all the renovations and modernizing, these underground tunnels have transformed into quite the cozy setup.
“Now,” Uncle Mike begins again, “you were still discussing Eleanor’s dream, I take it? Well, I’ve just got off the line with a colleague of mine. He’s a language expert named Mr. Higgins. Turns out the name of the young man in your dream can be traced to the Potawatomie tribe’s Native-American language. They originate from the Great Lakes region. I’ve tried to contact any descendants of the tribe from the head of the Potawatomie Nation that remain out in Oklahoma, but they haven’t got back to me yet.”
“What good will finding traces of him do if he was killed in the middle of nowhere by the destructor?” I ask.
“Well, my dear, if we know he existed, then perhaps we can validate your dream. And if he did indeed exist, t
hen I’m certain that the prophecy was leading him to you and Darcy.”
“How can you be certain?” Darcy asks.
“Call it guardian instincts,” Uncle Mike says with dramatic flourish. “The tribe could have some leads.”
A smile creeps over my lips. If there’s one thing our guardians are good for, it’s their infectious good moods.
Both Rafe and Uncle Mike are the cheerleaders of our ancient quest. They never seem to lose their hope. Uncle Mike has been on cloud nine since I shared the news of my dream last night. After living well into retirement age without much advancement in the mysteries of the Statera, he’s been relishing in every breakthrough.
Char and Rafe stumble into the great room, red-faced and laughing.
“I’m telling you! I took marketing classes, and this idea could be a hit in Boston!” Char says with a laugh.
“Having the baseball players parade around in nothing but red socks is never going to happen. Though I’m sure every girl in Boston would be instant fans,” Rafe replies.
“But don’t you get it? Red socks! They’re all you need!” Char exclaims. They both laugh easily, enjoying each other’s company.
Darcy’s eyes meet my own, and I’m caught up in his wistful expression – is this something we’re missing out on?
I turn back to Char and plaster a cheerful smile on my lips. Despite my own disappointments with Darcy, I want to show my genuine pleasure in seeing my sister’s first real relationship. She couldn’t have picked a better guy. Rafe’s become like a brother to me. It’s been a natural feeling since I met him.
In a dejected mood, I excuse myself from the group after dinner and make my way to the second sanctuary for solitude and the escape of a good book.
Because the sanctuary lies underground below Andover Hall in Cambridge, the next day I pass through Uncle Mike’s office on my way out for some fresh air. I nod to his secretary, Mrs. Spacey, who I finally met despite her tendency to roam around absentmindedly. She seems to recognize me, though I’m not sure due to her constant vacant expression.