by Cici Wickens
“What the heck was that?” I demand, angry for some reason. “Why would she say those things?”
“I have no idea.” She answered me with a shaky voice. “I…she’s never said anything like that before.”
My hands are trembling. I clench my fists. “Okay, let’s just forget about it.”
We left the room and I followed Minerva back to her bedroom. The balance depended on me? A token from a family member held all of my people’s fate? This is all becoming too much. First the dreams, and now this?
Minerva handed me a stack of drawings and smiled sheepishly, her mind having already drifted elsewhere. “They’re not really that good, and some of them are kind of weird. They just sort of come to me, out of nowhere. I mean literally…I wake up and my hands are covered in charcoal, and I find drawings in the weirdest places. I don’t even remember sketching them.”
I reflexively take the drawings from her hands. I absently flip through the pages, not really seeing them. My mind is on much more important matters.
Minerva put her hands on her hips. “Are you even looking at them?” She questioned after I’m about halfway done with the stack.
I shake my head to clear my thoughts. “Sorry.” I feel bad. She was showing me something she was passionate about, and I wasn’t even paying attention. I start over.
I look down at the first drawing and my blood freezes. It’s a sketch of the first dream I had on that tragic night. Pip and Caesar are talking, and in the far corner stands a girl whose face you can’t see. There is an older woman that looks vaguely familiar, with white hair, holding the girl in place. I can nearly see the subtle shifting of their hands and bodies as they speak, as if the drawing itself was alive.
“What’s wrong?” Minerva interrupted my thoughts. I quickly flip through two more drawings. They’re the same scene sketched at different angles, the girl’s face was obscured though. My face. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
The papers in my hand are about to explode as I witness the impossible become a reality. This is real. Minerva has somehow drawn my dreams. My brain—I can’t even process this. I can’t breathe.
Chapter 21
Chicken Skin and Blues
Thomas
Two little thick-headed kids were sitting in Ron’s green vintage car. Ron was messing with his hydraulics to entertain them like usual.
Seeing that I’ve arrived, Ron got out of his car, slamming the door behind him. I do the same and stroll over. The kids screamed my name, and after hitting me with some sticks, since Ron ordered them to ‘take down the monster’, Big Mama finally called them inside.
“Yo! What took ya’ so long?” Ron laughed.
“Don’t start that.” I mutter.
We walk into the house with the intention of heading to Ron’s room. Sitting on the couch was his older sister. She had on a tank top and a miniskirt. She was pretty and used to baby sit us. But as we got older, we slowly drifted apart. I think I remember Ron telling me about how she had gotten into some bad shit—drugs, guys, etc.. I hadn’t seen her in a while, so I was a little surprised that she was here. It was good to see her.
“Hey, Thomas.” She said with a slight smile.
I grin. Maybe she’s going to be okay after all. “Hey, Nay.”
“Well hey, handsome! Nice to see ya’ again!” Big Mama hollered. She pulled me into a tight hug and patted me a little too hard on the back. She was very heavy handed.
“Hey, Big Mama.” I loved her, no matter how crazy she was.
I can see that the little boy with the afro, Ron’s brother Jay, and the tiny girl Ki-Ki, one of his many sisters, were sat down at the kitchen table. It looked like they were doing some homework of their own. They smiled and waved, and I make some crazy face back. They start giggling, completely forgetting about their work.
“Why didn’t you bring Lola?” Ki-Ki whined.
“I just got back from practice, I’ll bring her next time.” I say.
“Gotta’ do homework mama.” Ron said after she hugged him as well.
“Good boys.” She said proudly.
I always liked Ron’s room. He had posters of muscle cars stuck to his wall, and one side had been completely covered in graffiti. I wish that my mom would let me decorate my room the way I wanted. Though his room looked cluttered, it was actually not that bad. His bed was made, and all of his movies were stacked on top of his dresser. He dropped down onto his mattress and let out a sigh. I sat on the edge and flipped through my Chem binder until I found the right assignment.
“What is your favorite food?” I ask. In my opinion, the questions we were assigned to ask were pretty basic, and pretty lame.
“Fried chicken. Everybody knows that.” He bit his knuckles, a habit he had since elementary school. I write that down under ‘noticed habits’. “Maybe pizza, I don’t know.”
“Your favorite type of music is 2000’s hip-hop, right?”
“Actually, I’m kind of getting into blues now.” Ron started flipping through a magazine, half-heartedly paying attention.
After a bit more questions I ask, “What have you been keeping from me about Iris?”
“That’s one of the questions?” He asked in surprise.
“No, but—” I start to say.
“Damn bro, she still hasn’t told you?” He shook his head.
“I don’t know how to approach her about it.” I admit.
“You can’t approach her on this, she’s gotta’ approach you. Be patient young grasshopper.” He said like a wise old man.
“Ron, Thomas! Come on! Dinner’s ready!” Big Mama yelled from the kitchen.
I point a finger at Ron. “We’ll finish this conversation later.” I say.
Ron scoffed, but I could tell he’s enjoying this. “No hell we ain’t.”
Big Mama had some fried chicken waiting for us when we made it to the dining room. His two little siblings were sitting at the table, grease all around their mouths, and giblets of chicken skin on the side of their plates. They smiled when they saw us, mouths stuffed full. I don’t even flinch. After all these years, I got used to it. Ron was just as bad.
“I don’t know. Maybe fried chicken is my favorite food.” Ron said upon entering the kitchen and taking a whiff.
Chapter 22
Spaghetti and the Sixth Sense
Iris
“Why would you tell her that stuff mom? That was so embarrassing!”
“I only spoke the truth.”
My eyebrows furrow. I recognize that the voices belong to Minerva and her mother. They’re arguing. I don’t want to eavesdrop on their conversation. It feels…invasive.
“What happened?” I interrupt and pull myself into a sitting position.
“You were looking at my drawings, and then you just passed out.” Minerva answered. There were dozens of questions lingering in her blue eyes.
“What about the sketches unnerved you?” Janelle asked.
I look at both of them and wonder if I should tell them the truth. I told Ron, but that’s because I felt like I could trust him. Plus, that was more of a whim, and he’s way more approachable than Minerva. Even more so, Minerva and I only share two classes, which means we don’t spend much time together at school. Not to mention that I’ve only just met her mom, and she seems…off.
I shake my head. I can trust Minerva. Besides, it’s not like I have a choice. If Minerva’s drawing my dreams, then I want to know as much about my situation as they do. It would be in all of our best interests for me to be honest with them. “Okay. I’ll tell you everything, but you have to show me the rest of your drawings first.” I tell her.
She nodded in confusion and handed the crispy papers to me. As I flip through the stack of drawings, I see not only my first, but my second dream also.
I gasp when I look at the next sketch. It’s of a Hell-Cat. I just know it. It is roughly the size of a grizzly bear from what I can tell, perhaps larger. Minerva had charcoaled the fur night-black, le
aving some areas lighter than the others to show patches of missing hair, and had given it blood red eyes to add detail. There was a dark hole where his left eye should have been, and a jagged scar ran above and below it. The cat’s snarl revealed saber-like teeth protruding from its gums. Lengthy claws dug into the earth beneath its paws.
My stomach twists into a knot. I set that paper down. The Hell-Cat’s eyes follow me. I turn it over.
The proceeding sketch is of a Spiritseeker. I think. It looked absolutely horrifying. Its eyes were bottomless, and its skin was a pale and murky pink. Suction cups grew from the tip of each of its fingers, which were nearly merged together. They appeared to reach out of the paper to grab me. Its mouth was open in a silent scream, showing the hundreds of needle-like teeth that lie inside, awaiting their next victim. It had nearly a translucent appearance. I shiver at the thought of ever seeing one in person.
The next picture is a drawing of a beautiful pocket-watch with a flower etched into its smooth surface. I calm at seeing it. At least there’s nothing frightening about this drawing. I glance at the date. She drew it this morning. Is this the pocket-watch that was mentioned in my dream? Better yet, am I still dreaming?
There is another sketch depicting what happened to me in my last dream. The feeling of being attacked whilst dreaming stirs back up inside of me, and I can nearly see the glistening of Caesar’s terrifying sword. I swallow.
The ensuing page catches me by surprise. It’s similar to the previous one. We were in a dark room, and Queen Valencia looked absolutely livid. Minerva had shaded the area around her to give her a black, writhing aura. Instinctively, I look at the dates she drew my other dreams. They’re all drawn three days before they actually happened. If she was able to draw my previous dreams three days before they had occurred, that would mean that this dream was going to happen on Saturday night. The night of Queen Valencia’s meeting, my birthday, and…I glance at the pocket-watch sketch to confirm my thoughts…when I’d supposedly receive the watch. The token.
“I think…Minerva, I think that you can draw my dreams three days before they actually happen!” I’ll admit, I’m a little horrified. These drawings confirm that my dreams are real. I’ve been able to deny them up until now. But there’s no hiding from them any longer. As crazy as it seems, I’m beginning to believe a bit of this, and I want to understand more about the situation.
“How come there isn’t a date on these?” I ask, feeling like I’m on to something. I point to the Hell-Cat and Spiritseeker.
“Oh, I found those underneath my bed…they must have fallen or something, so I didn’t get a chance to write down the date.” Convenient, I think when she says that. “I don’t know when I drew them.” She paused, uncertain of herself. “Did you say that I drew your dreams?”
“Yes…I know it sounds crazy—even I’m still having trouble believing it as I speak the words—but you drew them three days before they happened. I’ve had these exact dreams before.” I point to the drawings that lay across her bed, “You even drew the Hell-Cats and Spiritseekers that they sent after me.” At those names Janelle drew in a hitched breath, and I look at her suspiciously. “Do you know who I’m talking about?”
After a long pause she reluctantly said, “I know of whom you speak, and I know why she’s after you. She needs the pocket-watch in order to keep you from claiming your rightful place as Queen. She needs the watch. The token.” I nod my head. I know that much. “Every soul in Aurum knows of she and her plans, but it doesn’t matter. No one has the courage to stop her.”
“But if what I am hearing is correct, I’m only the Princess, not the Queen. Doesn’t that mean it’s not my rightful place?” I inquire, though I never thought I would say that sentence.
“When the heir to the throne becomes fifty-four years of age he or she becomes the ruler, if they choose to do so. Technically, you are nearly of age, seeing as time works differently across dimensions. It’s for this reason that most rulers wait to have children for several hundred years. Unfortunately, you’ve been robbed of your choice. You must overcome her and claim your right. Valencia is a merciless ruler, preying on the innocent. The kingdom is dying and starving, suffering from the lack of Light. She twists the darkness to her will, and that sort of magic takes its toll on the territory. And she makes the people pay for her sin. They need you. The darkness beckons more powerfully than ever before. You must overcome her and claim your right.” She said with an urgent tone.
“But how could I ever defeat her? If no one else has had the courage to face her, then what makes you think that I do?” I ask as I rub my temples, which are throbbing from all the information. Vaguely, I wonder what the word ‘defeat’ entitles. I don’t even want to think about that. Honestly, I’m still trying to figure out if I ever woke up that time I got knocked out from that piece of ceiling. Surely the dream wouldn’t last this long. And darkness? What exactly are we dealing with here?
“You must journey miles across faraway lands, home to creatures of nightmares and legends, to reach the palace. You must then present your token, which will invoke a duel between you and Valencia. But I warn you, the journey will not be easy. The journey is passable by two, then one, way. Fate will not be on your side, and you will be forced to walk both. Only the most seasoned warriors have ever stood a chance of going the one way, and their hearts were the purest. Those who made it back alive say that there lie things that shouldn’t be able to exist along the path, lurking the grounds both night and day. Forces both physical and mental worked hard against them, some driven to insanity, others worse. You will need to learn the extent of your gifts before you even consider walking the paths. The extent of your gifts.”
I gulp. “Okaaaayy. What are these gifts, or abilities, that I’ve heard mentioned?”
“Has no one told you?” She asked incredulously. Before I could shake my head, she continued, “You will receive them when you turn eighteen. Afterwards I could find a teacher for you if you would like. You will need the guidance. When your abilities manifest, it will be easier to determine what you are and help us better understand your capabilities. I will get someone to teach you how to use your powers. For now, enjoy your last days as a normal teenager. For now.” Easier said than done. I was never normal, despite my parent’s greatest efforts to prove to me otherwise. I had practically grown up ignoring my healing abilities and strange food allergies, and now I’m supposed to embrace them and then some? I don’t know if I’ll be able to. But I don’t say this.
“Are you a Human?” I ask. She looks perfectly normal to me, except for her ageless skin and those blue eyes that seem as though they’ve lived through hundreds of wars and could recall even the smallest detail.
She gave me a mischievous smile, one that I could’ve seen Minerva wearing, and said, “George and I are Prophets. We can predict the future a little. Not very much though, unless we focus for a long time. George and I are Prophets.”
“How do you know who I am?”
“As I said, I am a Prophet. Also, nearly everyone has known about you for over a hundred years, because it is written in the Great Book of Lazuros. There will be many brave souls who will sacrifice everything, including their lives, to protect you. Do not let it be in vain. Those loyal to others, will have their hearts set on killing you. Because it is written in the Great Book of Lazuros.”
“In this book...am I successful?” I question.
Janelle said nothing.
“What is the Great Book of Lazuros anyways?” I ask instead.
“It is a very ancient book. Very ancient. Only the Chosen One is able to read it. But then, he must decide what to tell the people, given the information the book gave. Similar to the government, he keeps plenty of things to himself, because if it is more than we could handle, the world would erupt into chaos. That is why he is so important. He decides what to tell us. Only the Chosen One is able to read it.”
“All of the knowledge and secrets that he holds, and the Chosen One
told everyone about me?” I put my face in my hands for a few moments, taking deep breaths. This is crazy.
“Yes.” Janelle shrugged. “I think that’s enough information for now. I’ll give you time to ponder over it all.”
This is a bit too much to merely ponder over.
I had forgotten Minerva was even in the room until she exclaimed, “Wait a second. What the hell does that make me? I thought that I was the Neutral of the family.”
“You are a Seer. I wasn’t sure at first, but I am now.” She said with pride. “Your abilities allow you to predict what will happen to Iris in her future, and only hers. That is the difference between a Seer and a Prophet. Seers are tied to only one person. You used to draw her when you were younger. I can see the resemblance now. I wish I had known before. She will need you by her side to rule. Although I am not sure why your abilities manifest through art. Usually it is through dreams and meditation that you would be able to glimpse into her future, and you would communicate your findings orally as your ancestors did.”
“That’s…unbelievable.” Minerva said.
“But if you say she’s not drawing my dreams and instead predicting my future, why do I actually dream some of them?” I ask.
“Perhaps your dreams are not dreams at all.” That didn’t really answer my question.
“How is it that Minerva can be a Seer when you’re a Prophet?”
“A soul with the sixth-sense can be unpredictable. Unlike other species, we are able to intermix, and our genes can skip generations. My great-great grandmother was a Prophet. Minerva’s great-great-great grandfather on her father’s side was a Seer to a man named Joseph. As you can see, Minerva got her genes from her father’s side. That is why she is a Seer. A soul with the sixth-sense can be unpredictable.”
“So, are both of you Human?”
“Not exactly. We are descendants of the three Oracle sisters, therefore we are a higher form of being.”