by Kade Cook
“No, no dear. Not the darkness that comes with night. Although, there are more incidences with them becoming more aggressive in the Darkness.”
“Not helping,” Gabrian hums nervously lifting her eyebrows and gnawing on the ends of her fingers again.
“Anyway, the Darkness is the mist where the Gargons inhabit—the place between Earth and Hades called Erebus—a dimension of sorts that creates a type of bridge between Realms. The dimension is toxic to all beings here on Earth, except for the Gargons.”
Sarapheane knows Gabrian was never one for scary stories and is aware of the despairing mental effects that her explanation of the Gargons no doubt has on her daughter, so she tries to comfort her and assure her that fears are unnecessary.
“The Gargons are regularly kept in check by the Black Mages. Hence, the power of the Derkaz. They are able to push the Gargons away if need be and keep them sealed within the Darkness. On a lighter note, the Derkaz can also see in the dark like it was day. And if I were a betting soul, I would say that they have a few other abilities that they have not entirely revealed to the rest of the Covenant of Shadows.” Sarapheane chuckles and winks, tapping the side of her nose with her index finger.
Intrigued by the way the words ‘Covenant of Shadows’ rolls off her mother’s tongue, Gabrian interrupts Sarapheane’s story to inquire about it. “What is the Covenant of Shadows?”
“Oh! Well…the Covenant of Shadows is a sacred place amongst the people of the Realm. It was a gift of sanctuary, forged together by the Elders of the Fellowships long ago where the Elders of each Fellowship convene to discuss and vote on important matters that concern their people. It is in essence much like that of a modern day government. Though I must admit that the Covenant of Shadows is much more effective than some of the governments I have witnessed over the years.”
Gabrian pulls the checkered blanket off her lap and gets up from her chair, stretching her arms up over her head. She ventures forward, toward the fireplace. Grabbing a chunk of wood from the pile, she stirs around flakes of lifeless ash in search of hidden crimson embers to feed.
These things, these odd and ponderous things that are being revealed to her are that of fairytale paraphernalia—a little less twinkly and less periwinkle than the other stories that she grew up with but still she wonders—how did this come to be the world that she is now a part of?
Still picking at the ashes, she stares deep into the speckles of the crimson glow and visualizes a strange imagery of humans wrapped within flame like those described to her earlier. Although all of it sounds completely insane to her, she finds herself oddly pondering what it would be like to possess the power to summon fire. As the thought engulfs her mind, sparks jump as her log becomes consumed by flames. Startled by the sudden ignition, she flounders backward and lets out a high-pitched squeal.
Sarapheane jumps as well at Gabrian’s unexpected display. “Are you all right, honey? Did you get burned?”
Gabrian laughs at herself for being so jumpy. “No, I am fine. The fire just took faster than I expected is all.” Gabrian turns around and ambles back to the comfort of her chair. Snuggled deep within its embrace, she covers herself up again with the blanket, thinking nothing more of it.
Nearing the end of her list of Fellowships, Sarapheane moves along steadily with her descriptions, leaving the last two Fellowships for the end on purpose.
“We are nearly done,” Sarapheane consoles, watching her daughter’s eyes glaze over—floating in the deluge of information that she has absorbed. “Now, we come to the Schaeduwe Fellowship or as we are known, the Shadow Walkers. The Schaeduwe are a very unique people. They have the ability to touch and bend shadows in order to manipulate them. This manipulation allows them the ability to enter into the Darkness of the shadows and exit out of another in any location they so choose.”
“Enter into them...like a portal?”
“Essentially, yes. But it is much different from that of a portal. Portals only allow you from one place to the other instantaneously. With a shadow, there exists a membrane that the Schaeduwe have managed to learn how to walk within. It is a link or a bridge called the Veil, much like that of the Gargons, to an alternate dimension or world.”
Gabrian sits silently. Her jaw is without tension, dangling on its hinges while her eyes stare widely without blinking.
“Before you can ask, no, the Veil is not filled with toxins and harbors the vessel of death like the Gargons, but it does hold its own particular perils. Anyway, I digress...”
Gabrian, no longer listening, strangely sorts through childhood memories. She recalls one instance where she swore her mother was downstairs in the laundry room rummaging through clothes, then in the same instance, she heard the floor creak upstairs as her mother hummed merrily, putting the laundry away. She never really put much into it before as it became the norm, but it always did seem a bit strange to her.
In another oddity, she recalls visitors arriving at their house out of nowhere, like her uncle Tynan. When he did visit them, which was rare because of his work, he never used a vehicle to get there. Now, she may understand the reason why.
Gabrian’s mind stumbles back into the present, realizing her mother is still talking but about what seems like another Fellowship. She must have drifted off and missed some of it.
“I am sorry, Mom, what did you say? My mind was somewhere else for a second.” Pushing her hair up out of her eyes and letting it drop over on the other side of her face, she focuses on her mom with what means of attention she can muster up.
“Sure, hon, no problem.” Sarapheane takes this disruption as an opportunity to have a sip of her cold coffee. Harboring on the most important Fellowship description, she begins again. “I was just starting to describe the last of the Fellowships, the Boragen fellowship, or the Borrowers.”
Gabrian’s ears perk up once she hears the word ‘last.’ She pulls her body upright on the chair and hugs her arms around her knees, resting her chin on top of them, feeling relieved that the end of the information blasting session is hopefully nearing its finale.
“This Fellowship has had many trials and tribulations over the years,” Sarapheane begins. “They are a powerful people. Don’t get me wrong, the other Fellowships are just as powerful in their own way, but the Boragen people possess a similar trait to that of the Gargons.” Gabrian’s eyes widen with this news, and her head lifts in reflex. “They feed off the energies of other beings. Not only off those from the Realm but particularly from humans.”
Feeling an icy cold shiver slice down her spine, Gabrian holds her breath for a second from the terrifying reality that these words bring. Her mind broadcasts the horrifying image of the people she left lying lifeless around her in the park. Tucking her plump lips in under teeth, she bites down, blinking rapidly—her eyes bulge as the shock of horror engages the acids within her stomach as she realizes that this is what happened to her. Her fists clench, and she can feel the warm clammy texture of her palms beneath her fingertips as they start their inherent sizzling. She feels the pressure building behind her temples—the beginnings of a migraine, she is sure of it. She fights the instinct to go lie down and forces her body to remain in place. Although she has heard quite enough, she still needs to hear the rest of the horror story that her mother is about to tell.
Sarapheane’s hoarse voice pushes forward to finalize her story, sensing she has Gabrian’s complete attention. “Most Boragen, or Borrowers, are cautiously cared for from birth and begin their training at an early age in order to teach them how to care for their gift. Because of their ability to draw in energy, or life essences, they can quickly become a danger to others if they are not in complete control.”
“Although highly fatal, there is much beauty in a Borrower’s gift,” Gabrian hears her mother say, but she is doubtful of its validity. She cannot fathom how sucking the life out of a person could be considered beautiful. “Not only do they have the power to take energy, but they can lend it as well.
They are terror to only borrow the unhealthy energies, the dark-coloured ones like anxiety and stress, from their hosts. Then, after they have utilized what they need to survive, they give back the essence they would naturally expel. This in turn causes a positive reaction within the receiver of such energy, much like the chemical reaction of an athlete’s endorphin release to their brain. But with good there must also exist the evil.”
Sarapheane observes the tensing in Gabrian’s jaw as she reacts to this. “If the Borrower decides to not follow his training, and partakes in the absorption of white energy, they can become dangerous. Their minds can become lethargic and confused, causing them to draw in more and more energy until unfortunately they drain the host to its death. Once they do this, they are likely to do it again becoming what the Covenant of Shadows call a Vapir or what modern day Hollywood calls a Vampire.”
Gabrian jumps up out of her chair, clasping the sides of her head.
“Sorry, Mom, I have to go lie down.”
Almost tripping on the blanket that she had wrapped around her body, she runs haphazardly back into the kitchen and up the stairs to the room she woke up in. As her temples pound violently against her skull, she feels her stomach starting to turn. Unsure if it is the excruciating pain threatening to explode within her head or the unsettling fact that her mother just informed her that she may be a Vampire that causes the churning in her gut, but what she does know is that she is on the verge of vomiting either way. Crashing through the bathroom door and dropping to her knees, she steadies her head over the mouth of the white porcelain God as the contents of her breakfast head in reverse.
Standing outside the bedroom door, Sarapheane hears Gabrian’s struggle. Unsure of how to help her or what to do, she succumbs to her compassionate nature and decides to give Gabrian a break from the truth. She wanders down to the kitchen and grabs a glass of water and a few Advil. Upon her return, Sarapheane hears the heavy hum of water running in the shower and sets the glass and Advil on the table beside Gabrian’s bed. Hovering just outside the bathroom door, she hesitates for a moment then opens it a crack in order check on Gabrian’s well-being.
“Gabrian, honey?” she sings just loud enough to be heard.
Gabrian, now relieved to be done feeding her breakfast to the porcelain God, and feeling a bit better for it, answers, “Yeah, Mom?”
“Everything all right in there?” Knowing full well that it is not, Sarapheane’s heart wrenches from her desire to bring even an ounce of comfort to her daughter.
“Yeah, Mom,” Gabrian says, lying through her teeth. “Migraine. I will be alright. I just need to go lie down for a bit.” Her head hurts, her mind hurts—everything about her hurts. Nothing feels good. All she wants is to go to bed, pass out, and wake up better in the world she knew before the auras started.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I am sure.” For a moment Gabrian wishes she was a little girl again and that her mom would come tuck her into bed and tell her that everything will be okay.
That there is nothing hiding under her bed in the shadows.
That there is nothing to be afraid of in the Darkness.
And that she is not a monster.
Chapter Fifteen
Fire and Ice
ALL AFTERNOON, GABRIAN tosses and turns from vivid dreams of creatures made of Fire and Ice. She dreams of houses being swallowed up by the Earth, while strangers hide in the shadows, waiting to grab her and take her to the Darkness where the Gargons can turn her into a black zombified corpse that feeds on the living.
Gabrian wakes covered in sweat. Opening her eyes unable to see anything but darkness all around her, fear engulfs her. Still rattled by her dreams, and feeling blinded, Gabrian strains her eyes, trying to focus on something, anything—well, anything that is not scary and going to eat her. She swings her legs over the bed in an attempt to sit up.
“Ouch!” Gabrian yells, hitting her shin on something hard. It is a chair her mother had put there earlier while she sat by Gabrian’s side, watching her sleep. Her mother used to do that often when she was a child. She would hold her hand until Gabrian fell back to sleep again from one of her frequenting nightmares.
The door in her room slowly opens and the light from the hallway breaches the darkness. In relief from the blackness, she welcomes it. The silhouette of her mother’s figure stands in the doorway. “I heard you yell. Is everything okay?”
Rubbing her sore shin, Gabrian squints her eyes, trying to adjust to the light “I am okay, I just banged my leg on something when I was trying to get up. It is so dark in here, I can’t see what I am doing.”
Entering the room, and walking directly to the chair, Sarapheane picks it up and moves it out of the way. “Oh, no. Sorry, Gabe, that is my fault,” she says. “I forgot to put it back before I left your room.”
“You sat by me when I was sleeping? Mom, I think that I am a little old for you to coddle,” she teases. Her eyes sparkle as she squints them against the glimmer of light coming from the hall and her mouth curves crookedly to the side into a half-grin.
“How is your head?” Sarapheane asks, rubbing her hand over Gabrian’s head before she gently twirls a strand of Gabrian’s long dark hair. “Is your migraine all gone?”
Still feeling the remainder of the headache behind her eyes, she rubs her temple and smiles meekly. “Almost. Thank you for the pills. Once my head hit the pillow, I was gone.” Struggling with her need for answers, and wondering if she really wants to dive back into the world of the strange, she presses her thumb against her bottom lip, and bites down—chewing on the edge of her nail and decides to takes the plunge. “Mom?”
“Yeah, Gabe?” Sarapheane answers kindly.
“Is all that stuff you said earlier…true?” Feeling unsecure in asking, Gabrian drops her eyes for a moment then looks back up at her mother. “I mean, thinking rationally, it all sounds pretty farfetched.”
Knowing her daughter well, she replies the only way she can. “Well, Gabe, what do you think?”
Familiar with her mother’s tactics of turning a question back on to her, she hesitates and searches her logical mind for the answer. A few days ago she would have quickly and undisputedly answered no, but now, she can one hundred percent concur that she does not know the answer. “Maybe—I don’t know.”
Sarapheane gives her a motherly look of understanding and presses her forehead up against Gabrian’s briefly then lifts her head up and kisses Gabrian on the brow.
“There is so much that I need to tell you, but I think you have heard enough for one day.” She cups her daughter’s face in her hands and sighs. “What do you think?”
“Maybe for tonight.” Gabrian gently pinches the bridge of her nose to indicate that the remnants of her pain still lingers just beneath her touch. She has had headaches all her life as a child and to her, they have always felt as if they were trying to drill their way out of her head. The one tonight feels like it may have dug a little closer to the surface.
A familiar voice from the kitchen carries up the stairs and into her room. Sarapheane and Gabrian both turn toward the door. “Dad!” Gabrian cheers.
Forgetting all about the question, she hugs her mom quickly then hurries out of bed and bounds down the stairs but stops right before she reaches the bottom as she hears another voice. She listens for a moment unsure but recognizing the other voice to be that of her uncle Tynan, she continues down the stairs. Looking upon her father’s handsome, wind-burned face, her whole expression lights up with a smile when he notices her on the stairwell.
“There she is!” he says, getting up from the nook where he and Tynan sit. “I swear you become more beautiful every time I see you.”
“Oh, Dad!” Blushing from her father’s comment, she runs directly into his open arms to hug him tightly. Even though she is now an adult, she always feels like a child in the presence of her father. Maybe it is because he is such a large man, standing six-foot-four, or maybe it is because whenever she is near
him, she feels as if nothing could ever harm her—not even death. Either way she is happy to be in his arms.
“Hey! What am I, chopped liver?” Tynan says playfully to his niece. “Where is my hug?” Gabrian chuckles to herself as she peeks over her father’s massive shoulder and grins. Jarrison releases her, and she strolls over to Tynan, giving him a large bear hug as well. Being the same size as her father, and having the same kind temperament, Tynan also gives her the sense of being safe and protected.
“Great to see you too Uncle Ty!” Gabrian says as she steps back away from the hug. “So they stole your house from you?” she says teasingly to Tynan as she walks back to embrace her father again.
“No, nothing like that, kiddo,” he says, looking back and forth between Jarrison and Sarapheane. They both shake their heads no subtly in unison. Tynan gets the hint that Gabrian is still in the dark about a lot of things. “This house is too big for me, I like the guest house just fine. Less room for me to make a mess of.” Gabrian knows that part to be a lie. She has never met anyone in her life more orderly than her uncle Ty, except for maybe her parents. But she can understand him giving up the big house to her parents and him keeping the smaller home. It was only him here as he never married. He always seemed to be on the go, in too much of a hurry to ever think about settling down.
As if sensing something she cannot, Tynan stops talking and tilts his head to the left. His eyes narrow, wrinkling around the edges as a weighted look crosses his face just for a fraction of a second, then he focuses directly on Jarrison. Tipping his cup up and swallowing down whatever is left inside, Tynan gets up from the chair and places the empty cup in the sink. “Well, duty calls,” he says with a grin, turning to face everyone.
“It seems awfully late to be going anywhere tonight, Uncle Ty,” Gabrian says, wondering where in the world he would be heading at this hour.
“There is a new recruit coming in, and I need to go set up for training,” Tynan informs her and winks at her parents. “I hear I have my work cut out for me with this one.” He walks over and grabs his coat from the back of the chair he had been sitting in then gently leans over to kiss Gabrian on the top of the head.