Magic and Shadows: A Collection of YA Fantasy and Paranormal Romances

by T. M. Franklin

  “It’s not your fault, Ernesto. He was your friend. You thought he was the friend you remembered again. You couldn’t know.” I know there is nothing I can say, nothing to alleviate his guilt. “You did it out of love, and no one can fault you for that.”

  “Yes. They can. Sometimes one must make sacrifices for the safety and longevity of many. Our parents taught us this. They demonstrated it by rejecting Giana’s gift. They validated it by leaving.” Letting go of my hand, he slides his arm under my shoulders and pulls me to him, my head on his chest. He rubs my head. “I will make this right.”

  Lifting my hand to his cheek, I rest it there. “We will make this right.”

  No two of us can agree on how to approach the day. Otto insists he wants to complete his assigned tasks. His mother wants him to stay here with her. Ernesto and I are so lost in our own heads neither of us offers any thoughts.

  We all share some fruit, sitting in my living room with blank stares, as Toby plays on the floor. Ernesto looks tired. I don’t think he slept well. I didn’t either. He shares his thoughts. “Otto…let’s not let Fritjof suspect anything for now. You go on and work today, but stay close to others. Don’t allow yourself to be alone.” He addresses Otto’s mother next. “You stay here. Take care of Toby. Charlotte and I have to go see someone.”

  “Bettina.” It’s a question and a confirmation. We know we have to see and hear what she found, but I think we have both had enough of prophecies, blessings, and curses.

  He stands and stretches out his arm for me to take his hand. “Yes. Come on. Maybe she can provide us with some answers as to how we can handle this.” Hand in hand, we leave the house. There’s a slight chill in the air this morning and I shiver. Ernesto drops my hand and puts his arm around my shoulders. “Why did you ask me if I knew anyone named Rosa?”

  With everything out in the open about Fritjof, I can share the odd image flashes I’ve experienced with him. “Since that night with Fritjof, I have glimpses of something or someone enter my mind, and I hear the name Rosa. It was really strong when Fritjof was near.”

  He takes off without any indication of what he thought it meant. He races down the street ignoring my calls to him. I run after him, but I didn’t stand a chance of catching him. He moves with a purpose, and I struggle to just keep him in sight. Passing through the square, he heads toward Giana’s.

  Gasping for air and suffering with a horrible stitch in my side, I arrive at the bottom of the steps to her place. I hear Ernesto’s angry yells. “What do you know about my mother? How could you? What happened to you, Fritjof? Do you think this is the man your mom would want you to be?”

  Fritjof’s malicious laugh gives me the chills. I stand frozen, afraid to climb the stairs, but I can’t leave Ernesto to face Fritjof alone. I won’t. I muster the courage to face the scene I know will be treacherous and malevolent. As I enter the room, Ernesto throws a punch at Fritjof who catches his fist midair. Ernesto falls to his knees with his shrieks of suffering echoing in the room.

  Giana comes up behind Fritjof wailing, “Stop it, Fritjof. Please. I beg you to stop.”

  Fritjof flings Ernesto’s arm away with such force it throws him to his back and knocks the breath from his lungs. His mouth is open and he wheezes. I rush to him placing my hands on his chest to alleviate his discomfort.

  “Why would I allow you to have your mother when no one allowed me to have mine?” Fritjof hollers. “Just because the two of you located the vase first and Giana acquired healing power, you think it gave you both the right to play God!”

  Giana cries, “It was what your parents wanted. I didn’t know this would happen to me when I located the vase.”

  “Just like I didn’t know this would happen to me when I touched it. I guess the old saying is true…for every good there is an evil. I don’t understand why fate hates me so. Even Charlotte manages to obtain a positive power, and she’s not one of us.” A flicker of humanity shines in his eyes.

  “Do you know where my mom is Fritjof?” croaks Ernesto, able to drag small amounts of air into his lungs. “Because you have the ability to injure others…why use it?”

  “I love you, Fritjof. I always have and I always will. Do you know anything about Rosa?” Giana pleads with him.

  Tears fill his eyes as he answers, “She is in Mantova.” He turns around and faces Giana. “I love you too.” Lifting his hands, he places one on each of her shoulders. Her head falls back, and sounds of horror explode from her mouth. She manages to clamp her fingers around his lower arms. He too shrieks the most ghastly noise.

  Without any hesitation, I know without a doubt why I was given the gifts I have and how to use them. Leaving Ernesto, I go to Fritjof and Giana. I feel no fear. As I clutch onto each of their arms, a surge of pain sweeps through my entire body. Every part of me is in extreme agony. I don’t let go. I don’t know if I could. The torture sweeps through me repetitively from my hair to the bottoms of my feet. It comes in waves, over and over. This must be death.

  A flash of light so bright I think my retinas may be burned bursts in my vision, and the contact is broken between the three of us. I’m propelled backward, landing hard on my back. Gasping for air, any air, I see Ernesto above me. “Slow. Slow. Don’t panic. It will come, don’t force it,” he reassures me.

  I do as he says but I believe this may be it for me. My vision goes, as does my hearing. I am no longer in any pain. I feel warm and at peace. My body convulses and the tiniest amount of air reaches my now burning lungs. Is it just a tease? No more oxygen is meeting my lungs. I convulse again, my head lifting and hitting the stone floor. Ernesto places a palm on each of my shoulders and holds me down. “Breathe, Charlotte! Breathe! Slow…easy,” he screams.

  Air swooshes in my throat. I huff and draw more. It hurts, but it gets easier.

  7

  It’s been five months since that day at Giana’s. I no longer try to understand what, why, or how all those things happened. They just did. It’s not my place to have all the answers. And to be honest, I don’t want that kind of power. All three of us were left without any special gifts that day. I know I don’t miss it. I am comfortable knowing that I used them the way they were intended while I had them. We are blessed to no longer encounter anyone with the illness any longer. There are no frenzied walking an invisible barrier surrounding the village. There is no longer an invisible barrier.

  Why this happened we don’t know. Bettina placed any scrolls she removed and the Potente vase back under the basilica where they belong. Giana says there had to be evil for people to believe and want the good. Our world lost sight of that throughout the centuries, and we needed a reminder. It’s a shame that Fritjof got caught up in the wicked side, but he is the Fritjof they knew and loved once again. And he’s actually become a pretty close friend of mine.

  Ernesto and Otto went to Mantova and brought Rosa, Ernesto’s mother, back to Protetta. She’s a wonderful, intelligent woman, and I’m thrilled to have her in my and Toby’s life.

  I turned eighteen two months ago, and Ernesto threw me a huge surprise party, along with gifting me with his mother’s engagement ring. I am happy, and I am in love. Toby grows like a weed and babbles all day, every day.

  There is snow on the ground today, and I get Toby out to expend some of his toddler energy. Ernesto is off working with the livestock, so I watch Toby play with a stupid forever smile planted across my face. He takes his mitten off again, and I pick it up and grab his hand to slide it back on for the umpteenth time today.

  “Charlotte! Charlotte!” I hear my name coming from up the street. A group of kids runs up to me. One of them, gasping for breath, says, “Come on, come. Follow us.”

  Grabbing Toby, we follow them. A group has congregated in the town square. Every few days, we have newcomers enter the village, and our numbers increase weekly.

  One of the children who came for me directs me through the crowd. I see a couple of possible newcomers, but I know the one that’s my dad b
efore he turns around. “Dad!”

  “Charlotte!” He spins and sees me and then Toby. “Toby?” He meets me with an embrace that squeezes the breath out of both of us. “I knew it,” he cries. “I knew you would make it.”

  I know without asking that my mom didn’t make it. We have all lost people we love. I’m grateful to be one of the lucky ones who has an opportunity to rebuild some of what was lost. That includes and is not limited to appreciating and teaching others to respect this world and all of its gifts.

  As much as I love Giana and her overabundance of chipper glee, I want to sleep in a little longer than the crack of dawn. “Come on, come on, come on. It’s time to get up. It’s time to get up. It’s time to get up in the morning,” she sings.

  “Grrrrrrrr,” I growl at her.

  “I’m so happy I convinced you to stay with me last night. I never had a sleepover before. It was so much fun!” She bounces on the bed shaking me all around. I often wondered if she woke up surrounded by rainbows and unicorns. Now I know. Yes. The girl is the epitome of a breath of fresh air.

  Her bedroom door is open, and I hear birds chirping, and her curtains move with the spring breeze. The church bells in the square ring. This is a joyful day. Giana begged me to have a double wedding with her and Fritjof, and who in their right mind can deny her anything.

  Rosa made me a wedding dress fit for a queen. I cried like a baby when I saw the finished project. Ernesto is to walk Giana down the aisle to her awaiting Fritjof, and having my dad here to escort me is a dream come true.

  Rolling to the edge of the bed, I put my feet on the floor and laugh. Dang Giana painted my toenails last night. They are pink with tiny purple flowers. Yes, it took her almost two hours to get them just the way she wanted them, but they’re perfect.

  We’ve gone through a lot and come a long way in two years.

  About the Author

  I grew up an Army brat so my childhood involved moving every three years. However, truly a southern gal, I currently reside in Alabama with my husband, two chihuahuas, two golden retrievers, a mean cat, turtle, and a teenage daughter. I have two sons, who live on their own, and a stepson and stepdaughter. Whether a result of my childhood, or not, I love to travel. Warm weather and beautiful beaches are always my choice destination.

  * * *

  Email: Sheridowning20@aol.com

  Follow her on FB: https://www.facebook.com/sheri.downing

  Lamp of Light

  Fallen Kingdoms Chronicles I

  Alex H. Singh

  Edited by Krys Janae

  When you close your eyes and make a wish your wishes are heard by the stars above. A cosmic message is sent out throughout the universe and if you deserve it the universe makes it possible for your wish to come true.

  This series is about the darkness we all harbor in our hearts but how we choose to handle it lies in our heart. That is where you store all the light.

  My wish came true the moment this story came to my mind and then through my thoughts it became a reality.

  But without all of you, there was no point in writing such a tale. So my dedication goes to all my readers & dreamers.

  Prologue

  Kingdom of Tibethia. Forest.

  * * *

  The leaves danced in the breeze as the wind picked up. A distance off, an owl ominously hooted as if it sensed a sudden change to the overall atmosphere in the serene forest. Nocturnal creatures of the woodland scampered around as they began their search for food and other forms of sustenance, having risen from their daytime slumber. The moon overhead cast a silvery glow across the forest, which set the stage for the night. The whistling wind carried the scent of pine and wet grass, mixed in smoothly with fresh, moist earth. Birds of prey flew overhead, using the advantage cover of night to hide their attacks. Even blanketed by the shadows of darkness, the forest was never truly asleep.

  A snake slithered deep into the grass, and caught sight of a potential meal. The target, a squirrel, innocently gathered some fallen nuts, unaware of the danger about to befall it. Up above, another predator eyed the squirrel, putting it squarely in the middle of the devil and the deep blue sea. Sensing that it was not the only one gunning for this quick meal, the snake lurched forward to make its attack, but in the blink of an eye, the predator, an owl, swooped down from the skies. In the most theatrical of fashions, the squirrel was snatched from sight. Accepting this defeat without a hint of regret, the snake slithered away to search for an alternate source of nourishment.

  The snake was startled as a branch cracked just beside it, diverting its path into the nearby greenery. It sought shelter from what might possibly prove to be another predator after nourishment of its own.

  A woman breezed past, unaware that the snake was mere inches from her feet. She was running from something far worse than the serpent, and she knew it. She gasped for breath as she struggled against her own body’s need for rest. The woman labored on and her lungs screamed as she as she sought to put as much distance between herself and the evil on its way to destroy her. Her eyes stung with unshed tears and the salty bite of sweat as she thundered on. She crashed into extended branches and stepped on stones in her bid to escape. Her hair billowed all around her face, partially obstructing her vision, but she ignored it, and her bare feet throbbed with pain as she ran, and she ignored that, too. What was a sore foot in exchange for her life? Her sense of self-preservation was high as she bounded through the thicket like a woman gone insane.

  Blood slowly trickled down the side of her face. A cut on her cheek had barely registered to pain receptors which were now coated in adrenaline. As the blood trailed down, some of it was caught by loose strands of hair, and tiny droplets fell onto her tattered shirt. As she pressed on, a low-hanging branch scraped her leg and bruised the skin, but she didn’t stop. She clenched her teeth against the pain and continued running. She intended to give her pursuers as wide berth as her body could possibly allow, and her muscles screamed in pain, her legs threatening to give way beneath her. The necklace she wore around her neck had an eerie glow, seen clearly once it had been struck by moonlight, but she couldn’t stop to admire its light as she was certain by now that her absence would have been noticed. She leaped over a fallen log, but she mistimed her lunge and tripped, crashing into the muddy floor. Without much thought, she jumped back up and brushed the dirt and leaves off her body as she made her way toward her destination.

  As she ran, the blood pounded in her ears, and her mind strayed far away, at the beginning of the string of events that led to her current predicament. There was no way she could have envisioned this turn. What had started as an effort at solidarity and peace, a joining of powerful families to save a dying kingdom, had steadily dissolved, and revealed an evil of tremendous proportions that she could never have anticipated.

  They said evil came in many forms and she knew now that she had met its true form.

  As she made her way through the winding forest, Queen Esther Anna flashed back…

  1

  Four years prior: Kingdom of Dormality. Castle grounds.

  * * *

  King Maurice stared at the report with a grim expression overlapping his normally somber features. He dropped the parchment on his throne and dismissed the chief of accounts who bowed and left briskly. It was clear he didn’t wish to remain in the king’s presence for much longer… not after delivering such terrible news. He watched the man leave, unbothered by his rush, but he was not in a good mood. He strolled over to the window, and looked down. The throne room window was positioned in such a way that he had a beautiful view of the palace grounds as well as a good part of the kingdom as if it were his own personal eye in the sky.

  Activities carried on normally down below: Farmers carted their produce to the market, traders opened their stores to receive the goods, and customers made their way to the market to go about their daily shopping as a routine, a cycle of sorts. The king watched a particularly enthusiastic youth pull a cart with
vigor as he made his way to the market. Soon enough, he crashed into an equally enthusiastic youth who was on his way out. The king looked away for a moment as the impact sent the cart of produce toppling over. When he looked back, however, he was pleased to see them assisting one another, like comrades, and they rearranged the goods back on the cart.

  He smiled slightly, unable to stop the comparison that arose in his head. He was the enthusiastic youth running his kingdom with vigor that came with that age, not minding all the many things that could go wrong. Not that he was a bad youth, just a careless youth. Now, just as the cart had fallen over rather unceremoniously, his kingdom… He shook his head, unable to continue down that train of thought. The deed was done, there was no going back, now, what he had to do was find a way around the issue.

  Yes, solutions. That was exactly what they needed.

  He directed the guards to call the chief accountant back, requesting that he bring along his man in charge of revenue generating policies. The king looked through the window once more and the guards went away to carry out their king’s demand.

  The youths had finished cleaning up, and were now conversing, exchanging jokes amidst hearty laughter before going their separate ways. The king took solace in their small encounter. Everything would be fine. With a little quick action on his part, nobody in the kingdom, or outside for that matter, would know that the Kingdom of Dormality was insolvent.

  Nobody had to know.