by D. Fischer
Erma’s eyes widen, and she gapes down to me. “Tember?”
I know this look. I’m the one she’s entrusted most with missions, discretion and honor neatly tied together. I close my eyes and nod, accepting her unvoiced request. It is my duty to obey my creator, and I’ll do it to the end of my long life even if my loyalty means I’ll never get to hold her again. I’ll remain hers, forever, no matter my title or purpose.
“Get up, you fool,” I grunt to Jaemes, thumping his thigh with the back of my hand. “It’s time to go.”
KATRIANE DUPONT
GUARDIAN REALM
In front of me, a crystal lake gleams unnaturally, surrounded by frost-capped trees and fallen logs. To be honest, I can’t tell if it’s a lake or a large pond. What makes a pond a lake? Who decides this, and what measurements do they use?
Snow falls against its surface, gentle and calming, very much unlike what I feel inside along with the village noises echoing in the distance. Every part of me urges to erect a fire across the surface of ice, just to see if it simmers and melts, and watch the beauty be destroyed by my hand. Just to spread the pain. Just to ease the need for destruction.
The flames sizzle under the surface of my skin, ready for immediate use if I decide to melt the fantasy around me. I mentally grasp it, refusing to let it go, and give one internal yank to settle this feeling back in the pit of my stomach, accompanying the evil fingers around my heart.
There’s no white flag here, I tell myself. And I can’t give up the hope that someday, I’ll be free of all this. But how am I supposed to come to terms with everything I’ve learned?
I close my eyes and breathe deep, willing this feeling away. When I exhale, I open my eyes, marginally calmer than before, and lift a hand vibrating with awaiting magic.
There are no birds here chirping from tree to tree, no distractions from my own inner struggles. Mitus was right. I am unstable – my power, my emotion, my certainty - and I don’t know how to correct nor balance it.
Slivers of ice crack under my weight, but I ignore it. I’m only on the edge of the frozen body of water, and if it were to break, I wouldn’t fall in too deep.
Snowflakes run along the snow-covered forest floor, tumbling over each other with a small surge of wind as though a giant invisible hand is sweeping a finger through the landscape. The flakes reach the frozen lake and swirl in a vortex, hovering inches from the surface and waiting for an elemental demand. I watch it for a moment, marveling as each crystal catches a reflection and twinkles, a sparkle.
Lifting my other hand, I clap my palms, weave the fingers between their counterparts, and rip my hands apart. The snowflakes combust from their miniature tornado, falling to the lake smaller-sized than they were before.
Power, my thoughts darkly marvel, and I blush, ashamed for my weakness.
What I’ve become is almost too much for me to understand. Myla may have left me all of her power, but I have the blood of three fee and the first born witch running through my veins. I have my darkness as a leader. I have other lives pocketed in my very being. I’m more, much more, than they believe me to be, even more than I believe me to contain.
And there wasn’t enough time for Myla to teach me how to wield what she was born with. My heart aches for what could have been.
It’s amazing how one vessel can hold so much without self-destruction. Perhaps I will be destroyed in the end, but I have every intention of taking the fee down with me, even if that means Erline falls by my hand. Balance will be restored, and vengeance will be sought. Myla would have wanted that for me.
“Is that what you wish?” a male voice chimes in the wind. “Vengeance? I demand more of you, Child born of Compassion.”
Startled, I whip around, my breath hitching. Heat floods my cheeks once more but for an entirely different reason this time.
“Who’s there?” I ask the open woods.
Nothing is there. Not a body, not an entity. Nothing but the trees blanketed in white.
There’s no answer for several moments, and I narrow my eyes, preparing to lay the responsibility of my palpable fear on the branches.
“Do you truly need to know who I am?” the voice finally responds when some of the hostility drains from my stiff shoulders. “Or are you looking for an alternative target to place blame for the things you cannot control?”
I whip back around to the frozen body of water, my eyes wide, and I take a step back.
Small dotted lights, consisting of black and gold, shimmer in front of me, resembling the shape of a tall human, male body. I can’t make out features, just a silhouette, but the body is still and undisturbed by the small gusts of wind whistling through the trees.
I flick both arms at my sides, calling upon the flames. “Who are you?”
“You shouldn’t do that,” the voice says calmly. A light reflects from some of his specks, and they sparkle just as the snow had.
I tilt my head. “Do what?”
“Call upon what you don’t understand,” he responds. “You’re fueled by the evil intentions growing inside you.” The body lifts a hand and points to my chest where the black darkness has its grip around my heart.
“And what would you know about it,” I snip, taking a challenging step forward.
Unaffected, the body matches my advance in kind, and it’s then I realize he isn’t walking on ground but hovering in the air. “I know you don’t understand it. I know it’s dangerous. I know this addicting darkness is an asset of what’s to come, but I also know it will consume you like the flames licking up your arms, heeding your every secret desire as you tap into it. You ignore the offerings of relief around you.”
I gulp, and the flames extinguish, doused by his blunt honesty. “Who are you?” I ask, oddly calmed and a little mystified.
“I am everything,” the voice whispers, tickling my inner ears. “I am part of four.”
When he says four, the word is carried by four different voices as though he’s speaking for others as well.
“Part of four?”
“Where there is one,” the breeze buzzes his voice, “there is another.”
I roll my eyes. “A yin and a yang?”
The head bobs, slow, as though to assure I see the gesture. “In a way.”
“Friend or foe?” I ask, looking back to the landscape. I don’t feel any anger nor challenge coming from him, whatever he is. Instead, I feel an obsession, a craving, blossoming in my chest. He’s the brightest, most calming sensation I’ve come across, and I struggle not to drink him in.
“That Choice is yours.”
From the corner of my eyes, I scrutinize him. He says it like choice is a person, a being such as himself. An inkling nags in the back of my thoughts, but I can't fully grasp it as though the memory is a picture warped by time.
“What are you?” I demand again, this time more cheeky.
“Fate,” he breezes.
I close my eyes, my heart pattering against my ribs, and the memory fully forms. I recall lessons about him, on his counterpart Choice, and their opponents, Hope and Despair. Some say they closely resemble the four horsemen, but the Covens always spoke of them as legends and pure myths.
“The Divine Realm,” I divulge.
The Divine Realm is told to have many wondrous creatures and entities: people who move with the shadows, misty wisps in the absence of wind, and strange voices who manipulate. The land is made of bizarre vibrant colors and deadly objects. It’s a coveted place, and yet I’ve never met anyone who has seen it. I’ve often wondered where the tales come from.
Fate chuckles, the sound so father-like it raises goosebumps along my skin. “Very good. I see the witches have continued an excellent education.”
“Sure. You mean before they cast me out?” I grunt maliciously, deepening my voice.
“Don’t,” Fate says, reaching forward with a sparkling arm. “Don’t let it rule you. Hate can turn even the brightest star into something so dark there is no return.”
>
I look away, my eyes landing on fallen tree limbs. “It isn’t a choice.”
It doesn’t feel like I have a choice, I add to myself. No matter how hard I try, I can’t banish this cold pressure nor resist the taunting thoughts of revenge fueled by this crippling hatred he speaks of. It’s a rift between a coveted pure conscious and feared dark greed.
“Oh, but it is.” His voice holds much wonder, so much conviction. I’m drawn back to him, a slow turn of my head as his next words captivate me. “Everything is a choice.”
I chuckle, shake my head, and scratch my jaw. “Coming from a Divine whose mate and enemy is Choice itself.”
Though there are no eyeballs, I can feel its gaze and irritation. “You know a great deal about us, Katriane DuPont.”
“I do,” I meet his gaze. “Perhaps I’ll come to your realm someday, Creator of All Fee.”
The Divine - Fate, Choice, Hope, and Despair - all created the fee together, as well as the realms the fee modified to fit their needs. The fee built upon these realms to resemble themselves and their desires, but The Divine built the platform and set them loose. They’re not evil. They are, in fact, the glue. Without them, all life, all creatures, all realms, would never have existed, and at the same time, if they were destroyed, the realms would immediately follow.
They resemble the four horsemen because of that fact alone.
Cheeks puff from the black and gold orbs, and I imagine the action to be caused by a smile. “I have no doubt you will.”
In the comfort of Fate, I lean into a tree and rest my head against rough bark. “I’m gone. If you’re purpose is to help me discover a brilliant future, I fear it impossible.”
“No,” the voice says right in my ear. “Your future is not brilliant. It is shrouded by death. And though you are lost now, you will become the map for all those who are.”
“How, when I can’t even find my way back?” I mumble, my throat thick.
“The darkness is a line, Katriane DuPont. You choose to step over it. No one pushes you.”
I open my eyes. He no longer resembles a man but a swirling circle of dots, hovering right in front of my face. This close, the dots smell like sage.
“It is okay to dip your toe across that line, and it is also okay to take the hands of those you love and ask for help. The lightness is in love, young one. Love is the light. Hate is the dark. You cannot find your way in the dark. Forgive yourself or be swallowed by it.” He pauses dramatically. “Choose.”
He begins to dissipate, and I panic. He’ll take the warmth with him, the only thing presently holding my emotions at bay.
“Wait!” I scream to the air.
Fate chuckles, the last of his dots disappearing, but his voice remains. “Do not fear, dragon. I’m always with you. Find your future in your heart. Seek Hope with your eyes. Discover the greatness of Choice. And whatever you do, don’t cling to Despair.”
CHAPTER NINE
AIDEN VANDER
GUARDIAN REALM
It takes everything I have, everything I represent, to allow this unnecessary manhandling. Firm and boney hands grip my shoulders, and snarls of surrounding hostile elves vibrate my ears. Their growls are animalistic, deep and rumbling yet subtly threatening. At least to me.
The row on the raft is short. Not once do we struggle against their force even when they push us onto the main boat. It is, however, difficult to remain a willing hostage with this level of disrespect. I can feel my power swirling within, my demonic side prepared to unleash a wrath even I’m not prepared for. I haven’t tested them and have no idea the strength though I have an inkling it’s grand.
The only thing holding me back from gaining the respect I deserve is Eliza. The last thing I want to do is frighten her. A show of strength to that magnitude would make me seem unpredictable.
The water gently laps at the wood, and the extra breeze ruffles my short hair, caressing my scalp. It’s like affectionate fingers weaving between the short strands and massaging the muscles under the skin.
The wind is warm and tangy on my tongue, and I wonder; if I were to touch the water, would it be as warm as the breeze which carries it?
Our elf entourage leads Eliza first, straight to the middle with an egotistical strut. The surrounding elves beat the bottom of their spears against the boat, a sound of drums which grate at every nerve.
They think they’ve caught us tramping through their lands and haven’t yet drawn the conclusion that perhaps we were looking to be caught. But this was the plan all along. This is what Ferox advised me to do.
Every being on this realm is a guardian. A worthy warrior. A survivor. They’re meant to protect, and it’s due to that fact alone they’re still breathing.
On the main boat, the absence of sails is oddly unnerving, and it’s too small for a quarter deck, rocking precariously with each subtle shuffle of feet.
To guide the boat, instead of sails and a quarter deck adorning a helm, two creatures wade in the crystal clear water, tethered with thick, handmade, and fraying ropes. The swimming creatures are long, like snakes, and spikes line their spines. Their bottom jaw is massive, and the teeth poking from them are just as impressive. How did the elves tame them to do their bidding? I wouldn’t get near them if I could help it.
They remind me of a documentary I watched as a teen. I was in the living room of the Tiller’s foster home. The program covered dangerous areas of the ocean and parts rarely explored due to the extreme depths and danger of the water pressure. What fascinated me most was a species of a deep-sea fish, the kind that never see the light of day and preyed on those who wander their way. They were frightening. The hair along my arms had stood on end when they displayed this fish across the small boxed screen, and their predatory features are quite like the slaved creatures who pull this boat.
Stealing my pondering thoughts back to the present, the two who lead me dig their thumbs into my shoulder blades, a warning to watch my actions. I discretely study them and their scent of confidence, unafraid of the threat I present. I suppose a warrior should never show fear.
Their skin is white but striped with red like the color of the sand below the water. Sharp, long horns halo their heads, meshing with pointed ears. Long black hair cascades down one side, reaching their waists when the wind doesn’t whisk it away. If it wasn’t for the delicate difference in facial features, they’d all look identical.
As I pass each watching member, only half a dozen and both male and female, they peer into my eyes. They surely see an oddity. I’m not a humanoid even though I look like one on the outside, and they openly inspect me as though I’m a wild beast. Eliza isn’t the only one I need not frighten today. If I raise too many alarms, they won’t provide the protection I seek for her.
My escorts and I come to a complete halt, and I glance over at Eliza, catching her pinched and concerned face. She’s confused, and I don’t blame her. Having woke in another realm and been captured by creatures she’s never heard of should cause such confusion. She was a doctor. Doctors believe in what they can see, touch, and then explain. This is beyond easy explanation, and the realm is outside the scientific laws of nature. We all are, I suppose.
Unexpectedly, fear doesn’t waft from her body and feed me. Her concern mingles in the humid air instead, salty like the water. It’s concern for me, I realize, when her eyes flick to mine with hundreds of unasked questions.
In front of me, at the point of their haphazard circle surrounding their willing hostages, is a burly elf. His eyes are fierce, heated, and if I weren’t what I am, I’d surely quake in my shoes by the intensity of it. Eliza, however, trembles when he pins her with his gaze.
I tick my jaw, waiting to see what happens next, and force myself not to feed from Eliza’s new-found fear. I’ll kill them all if I must. No one will touch or harm her, including myself.
“Shi-shu isu?” the male creature says, his last word’s tone rising in that of a question.
I smile as his words fi
lter into my mind. Not only do I understand Latin, I understand his language: Who are you.
“Monto Aiden,” I rumble, matching his challenging stance.
He double blinks over dark eyes, the only sign that I’ve taken him off guard. Is he expecting to make a fool of me?
Recollection crosses his features. “You speak our language,” he quips, his English heavily lilted in an accent I’ve never heard.
I don’t move except to center my stance in an attempt to counteract the sway of the boat. The knowledge that I know their words shakes the other elves, and their delicious answering emotion coats the air when their spear’s drumming stops altogether. Instinctively, I pull their fear into my body, careful not to touch Eliza’s, and use it to fuel me. I need all the energy I can muster in case this doesn’t turn out in our favor. If they won’t help us, I’ll find another who will.
“What’s going on?” Eliza asks, her voice tinged with fright.
I tilt my chin toward her but keep my eyes on the elf in charge. “It’s all right,” I coo.
“Spokeo isu-ate livate?” he asks, taking a step forward and curling his fingers tighter around his spear forever stained with black blood. The red stripes on his knuckles turn a shade of vibrant pink with the effort, and the boat’s boards creak under his massive weight.
“I want nothing,” I respond. “It is her I want for.”
Eliza’s eyebrows dip, and she moves to reach my side. The elves holding her shoulders dig their fingers into her exposed skin, and she winces, halting her mid-stride.
He considers Eliza, hanging his head while stroking his chin. “Shi-tu isu tire?”
“I’m here for her protection, and her protection only.” I drop my voice to a dangerous whisper. “I would appreciate it if you speak English and take your eyes off her.”