by Kade Cook
She breeches the surface and waltzes further into the water. Her skin tingles in the salt-kissed openings of her wounds. Flesh pimples rise to the temperature of the water but not in the way she had expected. Instead of the bite of cool artic trails, she is met with strands of tempered bath waters, warm and inviting her in, urging her to step forward, and surround her entire body within its delicious embrace.
The enticement of the strange euphoric liquid clinging to her body pulls at her senses, each step rewarding her with a gift of pleasure the further she lingers into the deep dark water. No longer caring about getting her clothes wet, she wades out. Her body tingles, swooning to be engulfed entirely. Gabrian lowers her lids and allows herself to lose her inhibitions within the warm rapture.
In the soft lull of the rushing waves and the hushed whispers of the ocean wind, Gabrian retreats from her moment of bliss. A strange lyrical voice echoes clearly over the delightful white noise, beckoning her mind awake. Her eyes rush open and she twists in the water, searching across the harbor for the source of her disturbance. Something moves just ahead within the waves—a blurry mirage of light and darkness combined together.
Gabrian wipes at her eyes, a trickery of light, and blames the wetness in her vision for the strange mirage. Giving her head a shake and finding nothing, she shuts the world out once more, hoping to let the pull of the water caress her skin once more and return her to her newfound favourite place.
Denied.
The strange entanglement of sound, closer and even more adamant, strikes an irritation in her serene moment. She is jarred back to reality, studying her surroundings. “Is someone there?” she calls out, knowing in this Realm that anything which seems impossible is more than likely to be possible.
For the moment, alone in the water, she scans the surface to make sure. A sigh of relief escapes her and a frown forms from a little disappointment. After being exposed to so many wondrous things this last year, nothing really surprises her anymore.
She lowers her head and rests her eyes on the waves, watching the water as it laps up against her. Ragged strands of her hair brush along her face. A soft breeze skirts in off the water, racing with the small whitecapped waves. It carries a strange lyrical whisper to tickle against the inside of her ear.
“Ghee-Breah-In,” the song sings.
She twists around quickly, heart lurching in her chest. Water swirls in her wake as she gasps, trying to dissect the strange call of her name over the rushing of the waves. Narrow eyes dart across the nothingness in front of her. She searches for any unexpected visitors but only sees the ebony mark of her faithful guide perched on a large piece of driftwood on the beach. She studies his expression, searching for any signs of upset or distress but he is still, watching her every move. Noticing her full attention on him, he sings out a gentle rumbling coo, an assurance that all is well.
Her heart slows, sure that Theo will alert her to any danger as he so faithfully has in the past. He is her black knight, her ever seeing eyes in the sky.
The uneasiness subsides and her lips curl into a smile as she turns back to the vast openness of the water and stumbles. She is not alone. Nope, she is very much indeed, not alone.
Chapter Twelve
Reunion of Souls
Escorted from the confines of his holding area, Cimmerian appears just outside of the Mount Desert Island Hospital in Bar Harbor, accompanied by two Guardians of the Realm. His palms sweat and his heart thrums as they make their way into the building. Their boots clack on the tile floor, announcing their arrival. He inhales gradually and slows his nerves, wanting to use his Magik to rush to her side.
But it is not allowed.
Under his sentence, he is to abstain from the use of Magik and hereby deemed mute as a mage. His overall admittance to the outside world will be judged in an upcoming trial, but for now, he is given special visitation rights due to the fragile state of his daughter’s health. The Covenant of Shadows’ Elders are dead set on him being punished for his crime but they are just. All who remain around the High Table have soft hearts that understand everything he has done. Cruelty is not part of their ruling and to deny him this would indeed be a cruelty.
Cimmerian hastens his steps, turning the corner of the hospital under the warning of the nurses to keep the visit quick. He will oblige the rules, all of them. From now on, there will be only his compliance to hopefully ease the judgement that will come down on him. Praying to the gods his time within the Hollows of the Shadows will be short, he is not sure how long he will be able to take the constant whining and complaining of Caspyous.
Rolling his eyes, and giving his head a good shake, Cimmerian pushes out the irritation in his mind when he reaches his destination. His heart lurches in his chest—the desire to look at her nearly kills him.
“You know the rules,” the Guardian hums low and un-daunting as he places a hand on Cimmerian’s arm.
The Elder stops, meeting his gaze, and nods in acknowledgement of the conditions laid down to the unsupervised visit. “Yes, thank you for bringing me, Morgan,” he whispers, low and unruffled.
He has no desire to mess up his visitation rights nor cause anymore unnecessary stress. He just wants to make sure she is alright and be the father he has longed to be for the last twenty-six years.
Thrumming loudly under his ribs, Cimmerian’s heart twists within his chest. A large dry lump in his throat chokes his breath as he pushes against the door. The monitor welcomes him as he slips inside the dimness but that is all. The girl he came to look at is still lost to this world, caught somewhere in the darkness between Earth and Erebus.
Wrapped in wires and tubes, Symone lays still under her blankets. Her skin is thin and blanched, her body frail, and her heart struggles to keep her blood moving within.
But she is here, he thinks and smiles. The tears well up inside of him and Cimmerian lets them fall freely—welcoming their company. His feet drag him across the room in a surreal state. His heart hopes his mind is not just playing a mean trick on him the way Adrinn has so many times in his dreams.
She looks so small and fragile. He reaches out and slips his fingers beneath hers, clasping them in his hands, and replaces their icy coolness with his warm tender offering. His salted lips quiver, shimmering and tear-stained as his eyes memorize her face before she becomes a blur of teary images.
Leaning in, the Elder presses his lips on her temple and whispers, “I am so sorry I failed you.” Then he pulls away, shaking his head. His knees go weak and he wavers in his stance, clutching the side of her bedrail for support.
Glancing behind him, he finds a chair and releases her hand to pull it closer to the bed, sinking into it. Gathering her hand back in his own, his eyes lower, bracing his head in his other hand. The subtle familiar smell of a toxic tell—one he knows all too well—alerts him to the fact the Gargons have been here, sniffing around, waiting and wanting, as her health staggers between alive and nearing expiration.
Gritting his teeth with determination, his eyes light with a soft violet hue as does his hands. He promised the covenant he would not ignite his Magik but he cannot allow the Gargons to take from him the only thing that is worth risking his life for. Not again. Not if he has anything to say about it.
Careful not to emit too much, Cimmerian purses his lips and allows the violet strings of his gift to skirt down his legs and coat the floor beneath her bed. His eyes swirl as the Magik wriggles and curls around every edge of darkness within the room. Waves of violet snakes slither up his hand and dance across her flesh, giving her pale colouring a ghostly hue—a gift of protection against those who would snatch her up given the opportunity and pull her back from where she was stolen from.
Hearing footsteps just outside the door, the Guardian nearing to take him back to the Shadows, Cimmerian snaps his fingers and his eyes snuff out any trace of Magik within. The snakes still and fade into an invisible cloak of wards. He draws in a deep breath and exhales—releasing with it a quarter-cen
tury of hatred, sadness, and cruel intentions he burned to let free.
A knock of three taps sounds just before the door inches open and a soft voice beckons to him that it is time to leave. Cimmerian nods and lifts from his chair, draping his lips over Symone’s knuckles, and bids his child adieu with a soft kiss. His mouth, etched for years in folds of sorrow and darkness, now curves upward with soft edges that reach the gleam dwelling in his eyes.
His footsteps trace the path of his entry, stepping over the comforting wards he has cast, and stops at the open door. Peeking over his shoulder, and gathering one last glance at his lost child, he leaves behind the demons of his sins to drown in the wake of his hopeful future.
Cimmerian steps out into the corridor a free man.
Chapter Thirteen
I Am a River
Heart thrumming loudly under her ribs, sending spiky slivers of blood to rush through her tired veins, Gabrian stands face to face with nothing short of a beautiful nightmarish fiend. Unable to escape, and not entirely sure she wants to, she gazes at the form, caught somewhere between terror and complete awe.
With eyes blank and void, white like a snowstorm, the astral being stands unmoving and undaunted by her onlooker. As if guided, Gabrian continues to gaze into the deep emptiness of where her eyes should be. The void becomes filled with swirling light and millions of speckles begin to evolve, filling in the spheres on her face and deepening into an endless jaunt to her soul.
The creature’s pale pink lips part, breaking the seal on her perfect and mythically-enchanted mouth. A spill of chaotic low-chiming hums escape on the wind.
Gabrian can only stare in wonderment at the fantastic creature slowly closing the space between them. Flowing sea-green hair intertwined with streaks of daybreak and sunset fire and soft glowing sun-kissed flesh dappled in shiny silver and teal scales scattered at the edges of her face and arms make up the creature—a spectacle of life fused by evolutionary magical bliss.
Gabrian’s sense of awe quickly changes into fear. The figure draws nearer, breaching the external layer of her safety bubble. A mental warning blasts an extreme awareness, a reminder of recent changes in her physical form. Normally, her curiosity always wins. Gabrian would never have hesitated to stay, to investigate, shielding herself with her powers, but now, she has nothing in the means of protection.
Frozen in her position, her body betrays her mind’s warning to escape and she stands waist-deep in the ocean—merely three feet from this beautifully unsettling image of a woman—she thinks.
Another softly lyrical chime escapes the form as it turns away from Gabrian’s star-struck gaze. Peeking over her shoulder, she beckons Gabrian to follow her out further into the water. Gabrian watches the girl, who seems to be harboring no signs of mal-intent, only patiently waiting for her to follow. With nothing left but her instincts for protection, her gut feelings tell her to see what the girl wants.
A far away hushing of words kisses her ear. Rhada’s words, ‘they will teach you,’ echo through her mind and helps her decide to let go of her doubt. Taking a leap of faith, Gabrian slowly makes her way deeper into the water.
Everything about her is engulfed in electricity. A slow burn of rejuvenation, like having stepped into a hot shower after a long day at work, make her muscles relax and tingle. Gabrian lowers her lids. Her mind surrenders its hold to consciousness and sinks completely unprotected into a watery abyss.
Somewhere in her momentary capture, she loses sight of the girl. Panic strikes through her as she turns to find her. The water swishes in her frantic search, swirling with her movements and begins to whirl. Gabrian stops moving and the water slows its motion, becoming passive again. An odd fascination with the liquid’s strange desire to move with her against its natural current stirs her inquisitive nature. She turns around as if on a swivel. The water once more swirls and sparks with tiny dots of light in her wake.
Captivated by this strange phenomenon of the water’s complete willingness to follow her movements, she gathers more momentum, twirling round and round, completely unconcerned about the rest of the world around her. Moving her hands, cupping the water as she spins, it begins to rise, only inches at first, then happily rushes upward to meet her subtle commands. A bout of laughter escapes over her lips. No longer sad about what she has lost, this new discovery is enough distraction to lift her spirits from the pits of despair they had fallen into.
A musical giggle, resembling the soft thrumming of a wind-up music box Gabrian once owned as a child, interrupts her playtime. She stops, remembering the girl, and drops her hands, the band of orchestrated water falling with them. Shimmering like a jewel against the white-peaked streams of water, Gabrian involuntarily holds her breath, stunned by the girl’s more prominent form. No longer undefined and cloaked in a charmed mirage of light, the girl stands clear and evident in her amusement of Gabrian’s display.
It reminds Gabrian of the first time she was first introduced to the Elders of the Covenant of Shadows. The abundance of their powers, even though contained, was a profound feeling of awe, of standing before the greatness of the Gods themselves. This girl dances on her senses like an apparition of Aphrodite but without the weight of goddess intimidation.
This girl exudes nothing but warmth and kindness.
“Come,” she giggles, her eyes switching between dark and light swirls of light.
A hypnotic dance, Gabrian thinks to herself, unable to look away and strangely eager to follow.
Gabrian closes the distance between the two, standing silent for a moment. The girl’s smile entrances and captivates her attention. Her head slowly bobs from side to side as her eyes scan Gabrian’s face—much like Theo’s had when he first began to follow her around, trying to assess who she was.
“You remind me so much of a girl I once knew,” she chimes out and stares deep into Gabrian’s eyes.
Gabrian takes in a sharp breath. The girl’s gaze swims into her soul, making her spine tingle, and pulls something from deep within to the forefront. It is an odd, almost nauseating sensation but then it is gone. A soft hum begins to resonate where the tingling had been but spreads to her feet and arms as well.
“This girl spent many hours lingering upon the beach, searching the horizon and waiting for the sun to rise.” She smiles and a wave of sadness looms around her in a shroud of blue hazy mist. Gabrian assumes this must be an aura of sorts but less shimmery and more mist-like.
“I am Lyarah,” she hums, taking hold of Gabrian by the wrist, the one she had injured before her escape from Uncle Ty’s keep. “A sea nymph. And you, I see, are a child of the universe.”
Gabrian blinks her eyes, climbing back into the sharpness of the present. “Nymph? A child of the…” She rushes back to a time when her Magik lingered in her veins. “No, not anymore.” She frowns, dropping her eyes for a moment.
A song of gentle laughter escapes Lyarah’s lips, raising the hum within Gabrian to reach a new level of awareness, and she smiles in the pleasantness of it. “Oh, but it lingers still, daughter of the light,” she offers, lifting Gabrian’s wrist more closely to her. “A child born with gift will always return where beginnings lie. Your Magik has just begun. Otherwise, we would not be here, and our words never exchanged.”
“I don’t…” Gabrian squints her eyes, wrinkling her nose at the strange words. “What?”
“Only a rare few have the sight to see the colours of the sea and the children who live beneath its surface.”
Gabrian narrows her eyes. More riddles. Why can’t they just say what they mean instead of these twisted words? She glances down at her wrist still tucked within the stranger’s grasp. “Ah, sorry, Lyarah, is it? I have no idea what you are talking about.” She raises her free hand to rub at the side of her muddy cheek. “I only went for a run to get out of the house and just ended up here, trying to clean myself up before I head back.”
“And cleanse you will.” She smiles, undaunted by Gabrian’s story. She slowly unwraps the
swaddling from Gabrian’s wrist, causing her to pull back from her grasp.
“Hey, wait, don’t do…” Gabrian’s words stick in her throat. The swaddling pulled free from her fresh wound reveals a faint jagged line where her cut should be. She gently traces the mark with her finger. No cut to be found, not even an ounce of tenderness where the glass had broken her skin. “What the…” Gabrian gapes at the non-existent wound, dragging her eyes upward, and is met with a sweet jagged-tooth smile of the sea witch. Gabrian gasps at the exposed lethal grin. “What are you?” she breathes out. “And how did you do that?”
“This was not of my doing, but yours. I am merely a curious friend.” Lyarah lifts her eyes to the skies and inhales a deep breath. “So sweet, isn’t it?”
She does not hear her. Gabrian’s mind is filled with an explosion of wonder. She glances down into the water and wiggles her toes. Hmm, I wonder. Lifting her left foot, the one which had been torn from her run, she brings it to surface in the light above the water. Her eyes are wide and unbelieving. No longer are they red and scarred. “How did this happen, what is going on?”
The harbor-surfing nymph returns her attention back to Gabrian and giggles, watching the girl caress her healed appendages. “It is simple.” She traces her webby digits along the blue veins in Gabrian’s wrist. “You and I are rivers. Wild waters rush through our veins.”
Gabrian glances up, seeing the flickering swirl of light dance in her eyes.
“Water is the purest of Magik, the very essence of life, and from it all things begin.” She gathers one of Gabrian’s shredded locks and twirls it around her scaly fingers, grinning. “Would you like to see what else your Magik can do?”
Sweeping a glance to the sparse strand of hair, almost forgetting the monstrous sight she has become and wanting to flinch from the touch, Gabrian looks back to her wrist. The clean line has faded even more than before, making her heart jump into her throat. A swarm of possibilities dance in her head and the hopefulness of the water’s spell has her captivated.