Empath Reborn

by J. A. Culican

  I spot a tipped-over tree just off the path, and it looks so familiar, I get a sense of déjà vu. Mid step, I come to a stop and stare at it. And stare.

  Then, it comes to me. It isn't déjà vu, it's the same tree I saw earlier. I've been here before. I try to think back. I know I never ended up back at the road where the trail starts, yet I don't recall this trail ever branching off, so I don’t know how I could have come in a full circle. I guess I missed it, lost in my thoughts. Relief floods through me, and I find myself laughing at my own silliness. I'm so happy that Talon wasn't here to see this. He'd have never stopped mocking me about it.

  But my relief, embarrassment, and silliness fade quickly, because something still isn't right. I can't put my finger on it. The only thing that comes to me is how badly this patch of woods needs some rain, because the plants are all brown or wilting, even the tips of all the tree branches. Funny, I don't remember it being so dull earlier. It all seemed so vibrant until now. Maybe I didn’t walk in a circle after all.

  I decide to test my idea that I just missed the trail circling back on itself somewhere, so I start walking again. As I go, I stay sharp, not allowing myself to daydream. I check all the plants around me as I go, but instead of reassuring me, the whole woods seem to be wilting now, maybe even dying. I'm pretty sure it rained a couple of days ago, so this should all be greened up nicely. I think it was a lot greener when I got here... It doesn't make any sense.

  I almost stumble over a dead animal stretched out beside the path—a raccoon. When I approach it, it's not one but two raccoons, a big one and a little one. I don't know what could have killed them both so quickly that they died together in the same spot.

  Disease.

  The thought hits me suddenly and I recoil from the carcasses reflexively before I remember that diseases almost never cross species to humans. The few I know of that do aren't consistent with what I see here, though, so I take a deep breath and start to relax again.

  Something strikes me in the back of my head. I let out a yelp, more from surprise than pain, and spin around as my hands glide toward my daggers. After a minute of peering around for movement or non-natural colors to give away someone’s position, I don't see anyone. Maybe it was a pinecone, I decide. I bend down to find it—and I freeze in place. There's a bird by my feet, black and sleek, but the crow's usual shiny feathers look dull and worn down. No pinecone, though. The bird must be what struck me. I don't know what the odds are for a bird to die literally on top of me, but they’ve got to be pretty low. Also pretty depressing.

  It should have made me feel depressed, rather, but instead, I feel great. Confused, but energetic and strong. I feel better than I did when I started my nature walk. I've got too much bouncy-energy to stand here in one place, so I start to walk again. Then, I find myself skipping. It's all fine, though, because the path will eventually take me to the SUV, even if I'm not quite sure how long I've been strolling through this dusty, dull bit of woodlands.

  Not even a minute later, I feel a tingle in the back of my mind. The sensation feels like a bothersome itch that is getting scratched—painful and satisfying and a relief, all at once. I focus on it, trying to identify the feeling, but I'm distracted by the fact that I can't stop grinning. I don't know when I started smiling, but now I can't stop.

  A noise to my left grabs my attention, and the brushes rustle. My hands go to the daggers I keep in the small of my back, and I call out, "Who's there?"

  I should be afraid, but I'm nothing like that, and my voice rings with cheer. Fear is silly. I feel strong, stronger than I ever have before—

  The bushes part, and a deer staggers out of them. It bleats once, a piteous cry, and falls to the ground. It kicks, then its head inches downward until it rests on the forest soil. After that, it doesn't move. I'm close enough to see when its pupils suddenly expand to consume almost its entire iris just as its chest stops rising and falling.

  At that moment, the itch in the back of my mind goes away and an irrational thought comes. "Am I doing this?" I say out loud.

  It sounds ridiculous, but the energy and joy and restlessness I've been feeling is exactly like what I felt when I drained Glenn and Ida, only stronger. As I stand there trying to force myself to disbelieve the notion, the itch returns.

  I look all around, frantic, trying to find the source. I may not want to believe it, but my reaction just now tells me that I do believe that, even if I want to deny it. If the "itch" I first had was from draining a deer’s energy, surely I'd be seeing another large animal this time, too.

  I flood with relief when I don't see any animals dropping dead. My smile fades just as quickly when I realize I see no animals at all. Maybe it's quiet because the forest is so dry. Even the leafy ground cover is brittle-dry. That would explain some things.

  As I think that idea through, I'm scuffing the leaves with my shoe tips. The leaves move aside, and when I see that the loamy soil usually found in any forest just isn't here, I get the urge to cry. The top layer of dirt is tan and dry and thin as paper. It should be thick, moist, and dark, but it might as well be desert sand.

  I don't know what on Earth is going on, but I know I can't be the cause. That idea was stupid. I draw my knives. The only sensible explanation is that a Shade is here, perhaps someone with plant and animal control, and I want to be ready when I find the source. Blades out in each hand, I move onto the path again and follow it urgently and intently. I'm almost as angry at the fright they gave me as I am at the damage they've caused this little forest patch.

  A chattering sound above mars the forest silence, and startled, I look up. It's just a squirrel, though. It scampers along, still making its fun squeaking sounds, running along a branch—

  I feel a faint tickle in my mind as the squirrel falls off its branch, hits the dirt, and doesn't move. The branch it was on, dry and brittle, cracks and falls after it, forcing me to leap aside to get out of its way. Its leaves are all dead and dry.

  All the trees are like that.

  Okay, now I know they weren't all browned up like that when I got here. And the squirrel died when we got close to one another, when I felt the tickle in my mind start again. But it had never really gone away, had it? I don't think so.

  I focus. Then, I feel it still there, in the back of my mind, only faintly. The tickle. I can't draw any other conclusions. I know what's happening.

  I'm killing the forest. The tingle feels this way, so much like when I drew off Glenn and Idea, because it is like that. This is my fault, somehow.

  I close my eyes and picture the energy going back out from me, back into the plants and soil and animals. And it doesn't work. Nothing changes, the tingle remains.

  Oh my god… When I opened up this channeling, when I learned how to steal energy and even magic, I never learned to turn it off. No one thought I’d have to, because it required active effort to siphon from people. Only now, it doesn't require I pay attention to it, and no amount of effort lets me turn it off. My powers are likely growing with the energy drawn and with practice, and I have no idea how to control it. I stand still, watching as death comes for all the life around me—the animals, the plants, even the soil.

  I don't even try to stop the tears that come as guilt and horror wash over my every thought and emotion, but welcome my tears. I let them stream down my cheeks and chin, and I know I deserve worse than to just feel sad and frightened.

  Chapter Seven

  I never wanted to hurt anyone, but now, I don't even know how many people I've killed, or even how many other deaths I'm responsible for, either because of what I didn't do, or because of what I did. The only people I care about are all dead, hate me, or have been out of my life so long that we'll never be really close.

  My ruined world is turned upside down once again, on a promise not kept by the first man I ever loved, and the second man I think I'm falling for is using me as a weapon, pretending to care for me just as long as we don’t get too close. Plus, he might be my half-brothe
r, so it wouldn’t even matter if he had loved me; we can never be together, knowing what we now know. And on top of everything else, I’m killing every animal and plant I come near, and even the soil itself, because of a magic I can't control.

  Something in me snaps. Sobbing, I run off the trail of death, deeper into the forest. Long before my legs grow too tired to keep running, the woods begin visibly withering around me. I must be draining its life force faster and stronger than before, and I’m no closer to controlling it. I've become the opposite creature from anything I could ever have wished to be, and at this rate, I'll never be able to see people again without killing them. Animals, people, houseplants... I'm alone.

  The worst thing is that I deserve it. I know that, deep inside. I should never have dared to hope for better things. Of all people, I knew better than to hope, and yet I did it anyway. I was stupid, and as a result, I’ll never be able to hope for anything again. No matter how fast and far I run, I can't outrun that damned tickle in the back of my mind. I bring the death with me.

  I barely notice my tears falling as I run. I'll never stop running. The world is collapsing around me. What a fool I was to leave my studio apartment. To dare to try to save one doomed little boy’s life. To trust any of those people. From Luka onward, none truly cared. I couldn’t rely on any of them.

  The more I think, the more frantic and scrambled my thoughts become. I'm not hysterical. Some part of me realizes it's far worse than that—I'm losing my mind.

  Luka is right beside me, keeping up with every long stride, but he's not running. He's walking, gliding over the rough terrain and keeping up with my sprint with ease. "You think I loved you?" he says, grinning. "If I had, would I have brought you to Kasik and Luna? They told me to bring you."

  "Why?" I scream even though I know he isn't really there.

  "Look around you. See what you’ve done. You deserve it."

  He's right. I do.

  A tap on my shoulder gets my attention. I don't break stride, but look over my shoulder. Mitchell the farmer dances, spinning along beside me. I didn't know he could dance so well, and I hate him for it. "What do you want?" I scream. "Leave me alone! You aren't real."

  He smiles, that slow farmer smile he has. Or, had. "That's no reason to be rude, is it? Especially since you're the one who killed me. I was fine before you came along."

  "No. This is madness!"

  "Well, I was fine. You must have taken all my energy. I bet that's why I'm haunting you. You killed me, and my soul is inside you. But at least now, you'll never be alone. I'll be here forever, blaming you."

  "No," I shout.

  "Yes," they both say at once, and they start to dance together, swirling in circles around me as I run, laughing with each other and cursing me at the same time.

  I put everything I have into running faster. I run until the sound of my own pounding heart drowns blocks them out. It doesn’t help; I know they’re still telling me how much they hate me, how I killed them, how they’ll torment me forever and I deserve it, and I can’t run from them forever.

  I ignore the burning sensation in my legs as lactic acid builds up in my muscles. Soon, I'll cramp up and fall. Then, I’ll hear them talking to me, even if they aren't real. Or maybe they are real. I hate them both, and they're right, and it's my fault, and I have to outrun it, and I run faster and—

  As my foot hits the ground again, the noise in my head simply vanishes. I feel like so much weight has just been lifted off my shoulders that I nearly stumble. Feeling around inside my thoughts for the cause of this sudden, welcome mental silence, a vague sense of calmness grows inside me. The feeling becomes stronger, and within only a few brief seconds, the preternatural calm becomes a still, silent serenity. It’s a quiet sanity that pushes the roaring chaos aside so much that the raging storm in my mind seems to vanish altogether.

  I feel saner than I have in a long, long time, or maybe ever before. Did my total collapse purge me? That doesn’t sound right. An idea hits me, and I take a couple steps backward. Abruptly, my racing thoughts and malignant doubts scream at me once again, slamming into me in a landslide of self-loathing.

  I step forward. The quiet, happy calm of the first time returns full strength. It’s some sort of barrier. But where does it come from? I walk toward the still-ascending sun a few paces and try my experiment again. Aha, it doesn't continue onward in a straight line. The iron wall that separates my madness and serenity has a slight curve to it. If that’s the case, it must be a circle. Which means the peace and calm radiates from a single point. I feel, somehow, that it’s vital for me to find the origin point.

  I turn and peer at the woods, my gaze following the course I recall taking. From that, I get a rough sense of how large the circle is, as well as the direction I have to go if I want to find the center. Through the woods, I envision an imaginary center.

  Almost exactly where I expect the center to be, there is a mighty tree far away, rising far above the forest canopy. It stands almost directly along the line I’d take to get to the center, a huge tree-landmark I can use to avoid going in circles again, or worse, going off course and getting lost within the denser woods. After all, trees do all start to look the same after a while, to the point where they grow together so thickly that I can't see the forest for the trees. Ha ha.

  I smile and step forward with more confidence than I ought to have as I head into the unknown, going deeper into these bizarre woods. As I walk, I notice, too, that the forest around me isn't as dry and withered. The soil isn't as parched. The bushes around me are no longer little more than winter skeletons, the leaves are coming in thicker and thicker, until, two-hundred yards in, they grow dense foliage enjoyed by little bugs and scurrying animals. Some, at least, I haven’t slaughtered.

  The deeper I go, the thicker and greener the forest becomes, and yet, there always seems to be a hint of a trail that, against all odds, takes me in the direction of my landmark. The faint pathway arcs gracefully to the left, then to the right, but always bearing to the southeast overall.

  As the forest grows more verdant, more critters make appearances, with more species and more varieties. At first, it’s only bugs and lizards sunning themselves in the sparse bits of direct sunlight coming through gaps in the canopy. Then, birds show up, chirping. Ten paces later, a squirrel chatters at me and then bolts along the branch to disappear in the foliage. Next, an opossum, then, a raccoon.

  Movement ahead grabs my attention from my little distractions. A deer stands tall and glorious, highlighted by a beam of sunlight that reflects from its chestnut-colored fur to give it a halo-like appearance. I keep walking, and though its ears twitch, it doesn't vault away into the underbrush until I'm only a dozen paces from it. I don’t sense it’s afraid of me, just getting out of my way. I continue onward.

  Abruptly, the dense trees give way to a huge clearing, but there's no sunlight. Looking up, the vast canopy stretches across the entire field like an umbrella. I gaze at hundreds of twisting, turning branches, trying to follow them as they grow thicker, converging in the clearing's center. For a moment, I have a strong vertigo and an image of that canopy stretching around the planet flashes through my mind, but in a moment, the vision passes.

  The canopy terminates at a massive tree trunk. I can’t even see what kind of tree it is, which surprises me because I know all the trees that grow in Georgia. The massive trunk is gnarled and twisted, thick with various vines and lichen. The bark is a chocolatey brown so dark that, in the shade from its canopy, it looks almost black.

  And it's the most perfect, beautiful thing I've ever seen.

  The entire field is thick with butterflies, but the lower canopy is the thickest with them. Butterflies cover the span almost like the famous Monarch Butterfly tree. The area feels majestic, like I’m bathing in its grace simply because it has allowed me to. I feel a reverence for this place I have never before felt.

  As I walk slowly toward the center, the butterflies in the canopy above me flutte
r away, parting left and right. I glance over my shoulder and watch them flitter around as I pass them, closing back up and landing behind me. I feel like they're flying around as I come to them just to put on a spectacular show for me, landing again when I can't see them anymore. My private display of nature's glory.

  With each step, my sense of peace and serenity grows, not more intense but deeper, richer. By the time I approach the ancient tree in the center, I'm as close as I've ever come to feeling a Zen-like harmony. I can almost see the connecting web that stretches between all living things, the invisible network of life rising, almost to the point of understanding. It's like an epiphany is within my grasp, if only I allow myself to see it by letting my mind get out of its own way.

  A voice says my name. I look around, spinning, but see no one. But I'm not afraid, like I ought to be all alone in the forest with someone I can't see and who knows my name. No, this voice was beautiful; a high, melodious sound that feels somehow right for this place. I wish I could see who said my name, though.

  But, as calm and peaceful as I feel, I put aside those thoughts. If whoever called out to me wants me to see them, then I'll see them. I can wait. Besides, the tree itself is finally within reach. The bark grows in the same twisting and knotting patterns that its trunk does, in small scale, but the grain runs smoothly and evenly, despite that.

  I wonder how many years this tree has lived. Did it grow this way in my lifetime? My mother's? My grandfather's, perhaps. However long this tree has lived, it has seen all the years of my life. It was here when I took my first steps. When I had my first vision, and the personal turmoil that followed. When my mother gave me my necklace, which I now know is enchanted to prevent Shades from easily locating me. When I left home, having failed to save my best friend from drowning despite a vision of her death coming.