Shine: The Knowing Ones

by Amy Freeman

  Mikhail had immediately gone to research. He rested the last book on the desk in front of him and leaned back in his chair, exhausted, extremely concerned for the young pair wielding through this all on their own nearly two continents away. What was it they were missing?

  Mikhail stood, lifting the old texts from the table and made his way to the back of the archive to replace them.

  A clear vision seized him, causing him to stumble; a stranger plunging a dagger into a young woman’s heart. Mikhail caught himself on the nearest shelving unit, clutching the weathered texts to his chest. The kindjal in the man’s hand was the same one he had seen at Bergen-Belsen, he was certain. But it was the blade itself that shook him—shook him to the core.

  Shocked, trembling, Mikhail pushed himself from the shelving unit, books clenched in one hand. His free hand covered his face. This would explain everything if he was correct. Everything.

  He crossed the room toward the final bookshelf, placing the texts in their rightful places. He reached past the shelving itself, touching a small metallic pad hidden in the upper right hand corner of the bookcase.

  With silent force the entire shelving unit rotated outward revealing what appeared to be a darkened crypt. With only the light of the archives behind him, he entered the small stone room arriving in front of a dusty safe, embedded into the wall. Still shaking he attempted to steady his hand, manipulating the dial, unlocking the code, and pulling the small metal door open.

  Pulling a pair of gloves on so as not to damage the delicate reference, he reached inside and gingerly retrieved an ancient text he had previously scoured. The information inside hadn’t helped, until now. With trembling hands, he laid it on his desk, carefully opening the book, turning page by page until he met with the entry he was looking for. Crack! Another vision, this time throwing him forward. Barely able to catch himself against his desk, he looked in horror at the entry on the page, putting it together with what he had just been shown. He read the words, not wanting confirmation of what he now knew. He read them again, gazing at the text in shock, his mind spinning. It was already too late.

  Within two hours Mikhail was boarding a plane to the United States, having alerted the council and Vitaly to his findings, leaving them to inform and protect the Veduny tribe, if that was still possible, while he went to collect the chosen pair. They were already out of time. The Oracle was more vulnerable now than she could possibly imagine.

  Trin had been right all along. He couldn’t ignite the Oracle, and he was no longer enough to keep her safe.

  CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

  It had been a long, exhausting week of coordinating, staying together, and staying under the radar while still attending class, swim practice, and dance rehearsals. Tonight was Sam’s first performance and Griffin’s birthday party. They were looking forward to putting everything out of their minds for one night.

  Inexplicable nightmares accosted Sam, waking her in a panic each time. But she always woke in Trin’s arms, buried in his chest, his deep voice reassuring her.

  He slept very little, using every bit of mental training he had to extract what he needed from the little sleep he did get. Once the weekend passed they had every intention of leaving.

  Trin kept training her, pushing her hard, physically and mentally, confounded by her ability to learn and internalize new skills. He loved watching her grow. Trin needed to pull all of these skills out into the open. He could teach her to use her mind for good and to deflect negativity. He could teach her how to avoid conflict and protect herself. He could teach her to become one with her element. But the unexpected gifts were all Sam, and she needed all the help she could get.

  Sam walked out of her bedroom dressed for a workout. Trin waited for her on the sofa in the small living room, looking like a Greek God in a running shirt and shorts. Trin stood. “Let’s go.”

  “What are we doing?” she asked.

  “We’re going for a run.” He put a hand to the small of her back, guiding her to the door.

  “Aw, running?” she protested, “anything but running, Trin. How about you teach me to swim laps?” It was more than a suggestion.

  “We’re running,” he said.

  “Ugghh,” she groaned, dropping her head back. “Trin, I hate running.”

  “I know,” he said, still forcing her in the direction of the doorway.

  Sam stopped, turning to face him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Trin stood with his arms folded across his chest looking conflicted, irritated, and annoyingly beautiful. He stared at her, his ice blue gaze set. “It’s not going to kill you, Sam.”

  “I have to do stuff I hate now?” she persisted. “What’s that all about?”

  “Your most powerful skills manifest when you’re agitated.”

  Sam drew back, brows raised. “Oh, thank you,” she responded. “So now you’re just going to spend all your time ticking me off because my super power is PMS?”

  Trin rolled his eyes, his face twisted in agitation. “We all have something that provokes us,” he said, “and for whatever reason yours, Bruce Banner, is anger. And who said anything about PMS?”

  Sam was laughing too hard to fight him anymore. “Bruce Banner?”

  Trin looked at the ceiling for a second and then back down at Sam. “You asked me to push you,” he said. “I have instincts specifically designed to help you.”

  Sam kept laughing. “Okay. Well if you need me angry, I am now so can we just skip the running?”

  “You gotta trust me, Sam. I know this part of you better than you do. Just let me work with it, okay?”

  Sam’s arms fell to her side. “Fine.”

  He guided her through the door, into the hallway and outside. Trin started a jog toward the hillside and Sam grudgingly fell in step behind him, still shaking her head.

  “You’re Bruce Banner,” she mumbled.

  “Good one,” he replied.

  Trin and Sam ran along the campus path. Trin began asking random questions. “Are you nervous for your performance tonight?”

  “Not really,” she replied. “I’m actually looking forward to the distraction. It’s my first college performance. I’ll be fine. That final lift is the only thing I’m worried about.”

  Trin huffed. “Yeah, that’s my favorite part.” He remembered “the lift” all too well.

  Sam looked up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing,” he replied.

  “Trin Kosolov,” she smiled. “Are you jealous?”

  “I’m not jealous,” he said. “It just wasn’t my favorite thing to watch.” His speed increased.

  Sam met his pace. “Ivan is gay, Trin.”

  “I know,” he replied.

  She cocked her head. She had never said anything before. Dismissing the thought she said, “So it’s kind of silly to feel threatened.”

  “I don’t.” Again, he increased his speed. This time Sam took note. What was he doing? She tried to stay with the conversation. “Ivan is Russian.”

  “I know.”

  She looked up at him. “What do you mean you know?”

  Trin glanced down at her. “Different cultures manifest in energy. Have you never noticed that?”

  She looked down, intrigued. “No, I guess I never have.”

  He glanced at her. “It is amazing the way you move,” he said “It’s really something watching you dance. I love it.” With that he sped up again.

  At first she figured it was just his superior strength. His legs were a lot longer than hers and who was she kidding; he was an Olympic athlete. She had been pushing herself, not wanting to lessen his workout. But it was now obvious he had an objective. They were no longer jogging. They were running.

  “What are you doing, Trin? I don’t usually go for a daily sprint.” She tried to match his considerable speed.

  He looked down at her; his hypnotic eyes glinting. “Keep up with me, Sam.” He took off in front of her at an unmatchable pace.
>
  Sam gawked, soaked with perspiration, heart thundering, muscles aching. They had been running at a near sprint for a full minute now. She was about to voice her complaint when she realized that aside from the burning and aching she was able to continue. She pushed to catch him. When she reached his side she glanced up. His eyes shone. He jerked his chin in the direction of the hill. They rocketed across the sidewalk, side by side, approaching a dirt path. Sam knew he intended to take it, and he wasn’t slowing at all. In fact his speed still increased. His eyes gleamed. “Outrun me, Sam.” Again, he shot past her, his powerful legs propelling him forward at a pace she could never hope to match, let alone beat.

  Shaking her head she said, “I can’t do it, Trin.” They rapidly approached the inclined pathway.

  “Yes, you can!” he yelled over his shoulder. “It’s in your core, Sam. Find it!” He lunged ahead, making no effort to accommodate her. For only an instant Sam felt defeated, overwhelmed. She gazed ahead at his masculine body in motion. He was convinced she could do this. She watched him, breathtakingly beautiful, his powerful muscles moving like a graceful, unstoppable, machine. He seemed to know her better than she knew herself most of the time, and if he knew she was capable he was probably right.

  She dug deep, trying to find what he told her was there. Determination flared. Deep within her core, a source of power churned. An energetic sensation, seeping into her flesh, expanding throughout her body, invigorating every cell; every nerve it passed. With labored breath her energy increased. A rush of power and she flew forward, pulled by some unseen force. With no effort she passed Trin.

  The pulling became suction. The suction became powerful suction and within a millionth of a second, a brilliant light flashed, a rushing sound, and the landscape around her ripped apart, yanking her forward, and she was gone.

  “Sam!” Trin went from a sprint to an abrupt halt, spinning around, scanning, searching, finding nothing. She was gone.

  CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

  T he eternal sky above was a thick black, with what seemed like a million bright stars twinkling in startling silence. Her heart thundered in her ears as she felt the cool grass and gritty dirt beneath her hands. Terror and confusion held her in place, shallow breath escaping her lips, in and out, thin and slow. Lush cool air, spiked with pine filled her nostrils, thinner but somehow cleaner—more of it to breathe.

  She lifted her eyes from her ground position, scanning the foreign landscape. Behind her, a thick stretch of woods created a bristling wall of massive pine trees reaching to impossible heights toward the blackened sky. In front of her, an enormous mountain range capped in snow rose upward from a vast glacial lake. She sat in a field between the two. Deafening isolation filled the air, as though she had reached the farthest corner of the world.

  “Trin.”

  No response. She gasped under her breath, trying to reach him again, this time with her mind. Trin, please, she begged.

  Nothing. She placed her palms against the dusty earth, pushing herself to her knees, trembling. Where am I? She tried to seek reason in a space that contained none. How did this happen? What was I doing or thinking right as this happened? She took a deep breath, trying to stay calm and find a way back.

  A swoosh of branches, crunching undergrowth, and the sound of many feet.

  Sam stopped breathing again, frozen still. Not an animal. Not wildlife at all. Footsteps coming toward her through the woods. She scrambled to her feet, searching for a place to hide, and found a thick area of overgrown vegetation. She sprinted through the field, ducking down behind it.

  “Он пошел сюда! Следуйте за мной!” He went this way! Follow me! The voice rang out through the towering pines. She knew the language and she knew the voice, her head dropping further, moving the brush aside just enough to confirm her suspicions. Sam went limp. This wasn’t happening.

  About twenty feet from where she sat crouching, a group of men appeared, moving together through the wooded forest with the determination of a soldier platoon. Beautiful white-blue energy enshrouded each one, invigorating the environment around them as they passed through, the elements knowing them, welcoming them, especially the one in front—bathed in blinding gold blue the aura of a Keeper. Anvil.

  She stared, captive. She had never seen him in the flesh, but it was him without question; the living, breathing version of the powerful spirit she’d met at Trin’s house just days earlier.

  In a brief moment, prompted by desperate instinct, she nearly cried out to him for help, flooded with relief and comfort at the sight of him, but reason returned, holding her tongue. Anvil was alive in front of her. She had gone back in time.

  She remained still as the dead as warriors dashed past her, the voices and footsteps faded until at last they were gone. Sam’s frenzied heart pounded, fists clenching at her chest. One deep exhale, then another. Pay attention, Sam. Pay attention.

  Another sound; someone returning from the direction the men had gone. She remained hidden as the figure approached, as he came into view she breathed in comfort. Anvil was back. Even if she couldn’t speak to him or illicit his help it soothed her to see his regal face, making her feel less alone. She watched him as he approached, drawing what comfort she could from him while trying to decide what to do next.

  An energetic front hit her like lightening. Wrong aura. Not golden blue; black.

  Sam began to shake, not even daring to breathe. This was not Anvil. He came right for her, aura black, eyes black, even blacker than the thick of night he walked through. His beautiful features darkened with rage, radiating pure evil, anger and hatred, and he was looking right at her.

  Tears brimmed her eyes as she tried to remain quiet. Closer, closer, his aura of rage flooded the area around her. Crippling fear consumed her and she opened her mouth to scream, but he walked past. Right as he reached her hiding place he turned, taking him to the right, into the wooded area beyond.

  Stunned, and overcome with relief, Sam remained frozen, watching him retreat.

  He stopped.

  Sam shrunk deeper into the brush and froze.

  He glanced down, head tilted to the side, muscular shoulders square. Unmoving, he stood for a moment, then turned. Raising his head, his eyes locked on Sam’s. A sense of bewildering shock flooded her at the confounding emotion that followed—loss.

  Ashbel turned back to the woods in front of him and continued forward disappearing into the massive, darkened forest.

  Sam trembled in the brush, not understanding what she had just experienced. She should have been grateful he hadn’t seen her and should have started working on a plan to get back to Trin, but instead she rose, leaving the protective brush behind and followed.

  She trailed him by a powerful inner pull keeping a safe distance, knowing full well Ashbel’s heightened gifts, hoping he would remain too consumed with hatred to notice her. She continued through the brush, barely allowing her feet to touch the ground, remaining as hidden as she could while keeping a sharp eye on the thick, dark head of hair that rested upon the same massive shoulders Anvil possessed. The same shoulders Trin possessed. She ached for him. She continued, slipping behind trees and shrubs as they became available.

  Approximately five minutes had passed when a clearing came into view, a small, ornate village, dark, quiet. Ashbel continued, moving through the abandoned streets, his venom stinging the air. Sam stopped at the forest edge, uncertain if she could remain undetected. She watched as he made his way through the town.

  The compulsion to follow remained, nagging. She darted out onto the dirt path, straight to the first available building for cover. Faint light radiated from several of the houses, but the sporadic luminescence was no match for the oppressive darkness that covered the village.

  For a moment she lost him, not easy given the far reaching sting of his anger. Hugging the wall, she peered around the corner. The street still, no sign of movement anywhere from anyone.

  Panic rose within her as
she strained for a glimpse. A light, cool breeze swirled through the streets and houses, reaching Sam with a brisk reminder she was not dressed for a late night stroll in mountainous Russian terrain. She leaned against the wall, hugging herself, rubbing her arms, missing Trin like crazy. Rationale returned, forcing her to realize the danger of her actions. What am I doing? Am I insane?

  Her thoughts turned to Trin, contemplating how to get home, when she felt the familiar sting saturating the winds, wafting in her direction. He was back. She rushed to the eastern end of the house, darting around the corner waiting for him to pass. He never came.

  She peered around the corner, finding him about twenty feet down the path from where she stood. She pulled back, heart pounding, trying to breathe. She hesitated, watching him go, knowing she had to follow. She tried to remember what Trin had taught her: breathe, abandon fear, and pay attention.

  He crossed to the other side of the street and disappeared behind a corner shop. Dodging out from behind the wall she resumed trailing him. Falling in step, keeping a safe distance, and thanking the heavens above she had the cover of the village to hide under, she maintained her pace, ducking in and out of doorways as she went.

  A large green hill came into view. She cast her glance off into the distance, finding a beautiful castle high on a cliff overlooking the large body of water she had seen upon arrival. A large stone structure complete with turrets and a grand staircase that stretched the full expanse of the front façade. Sam hung back a bit, shielded by a tree as she watched him ascend the hill.

  As soon as he was at a safe distance she took up following him again, checking the thick grass and rocks beneath her feet, catching the elegant pines and foliage gleaming in the light of the moon. She arrived at the top, breathless, casting her eyes to the immense fortress and stared. Its presence as commanding as the individuals who built it. Behind it the bordering land made a sharp drop to the water. A massive mountain range surrounded the opposite side of the lake like a painting against the blackened night sky, the endless body of water stretching like a giant mirror between the mountain range and the cliff on which she now stood.