Destiny's Gem

by J. Cain McKrell

  ***

  The following morning Sevra woke shivering, her blanket three-quarters of the way on the floor. She pulled it back up, holding it tight around her neck and shoulders in an effort to warm up. After nearly an hour she gave up on falling back to sleep. The chills began to subside but her head pounded with a dull throb, and she was thirsty.

  There were a few drops of water left in her pitcher from the previous night. Not wanting to bear the cold she resigned herself to dealing with the thirst. She sat down on the floor with her feet touching together and hands gently on her knees, running through her morning meditation routine. She could feel the spirits there, on the outside of her periphery; they were always there, waiting for her to let them in. She resisted the urge for the thousandth time, strictly forbidden from calling upon them unsupervised. Sweat trickled down her forehead, running cold along her nose and cheek.

  Why resist? Indulge in your gifts, you were born to use them. Meant to use them.

  “I’m not allowed.”

  Permission? Does a sparrow seek permission to fly? A lion to hunt and kill? The sound of laughter echoed and faded within her head.

  I can make it so they never know, if you wish it.

  Sevra opened her eyes, realizing she had spoken aloud to someone who wasn’t there. Her heart raced, and breath came in rapid spurts. Three small knocks followed by the sound of her door opening made her jump to her feet. Her face flushed with embarrassment, feeling like she had been caught doing something which she wasn’t supposed to. Immediately she curtsied deeply; Master Antok the Venerable was at her door.

  “Good morning, child,” he said kindly.

  “Good morning, Master Antok. You humble me with your presence,” she answered respectfully. He had never visited her before, rarely visited anyone.

  “Sit down, Sevra,” he said, motioning to the edge of her bed. He sat next to her and took her hand in his. “I have some bad news. Magi Bernard fell ill last night. He’s doing better now, but he’s still very sick.”

  Sevra gasped and put her hands to her mouth. Even though Master Bernard was very old, it never occurred to her that he might fall ill. He was always so strong, and consistent in his ways.

  “We’re hopeful he will recover,” he said, placing his arm on her shoulder comfortingly. She felt a gemstone press against the side of her shoulder, and found it difficult to focus on anything else. He continued to speak, but she barely registered anything he said.

  “In the meantime we’ll find another instructor for you to work with, until Master Bernard is well again.”

  “I understand,” she responded.

  “Good,” Master Antok replied, “if you ever need anything, anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask child.” He stood and walked to the door, turning back to offer a smile before he left. She returned it weakly.

  “Can I visit Master Bernard?” she asked, just before he left.

  “Of course. In a few days.”

  She sat back down on her bed with her fists under her chin, blowing the silver strand of hair out of her eyes. What was she to do without Master Bernard? She didn’t know anyone else, and the prospect of a new teacher made her nervous. Getting off the bed, she peeked into the hallway to make sure no one was there, and then firmly closed her door again.

  “Hello?” she asked, returning to the conversation she was having before Master Antok arrived. There was no answer. She began to panic, worried she may be hearing voices that weren’t there.

  You are far from insane, child, she heard, as I said, you have been chosen. Let me show you a taste of what that means.

  Power flooded into her, more than she ever felt before. The world turned grey and muted, the spirits flowing through every fiber of her being. She wasn’t summoning them forth, but walking among them. Her will was theirs.

  The spell ended and she leaned forward onto her bed for support, panting.

  “Are you a god?” she asked. Any minute she expected one or more of the magi to descend on her room; there was no way they didn’t notice that.

  A god? If it helps you conceptualize what I am, then yes. Think of me as a god. Again there was more laughter, chilling and humorless. For I am that powerful.

  She bit her lip in anticipation of the possibilities; she always felt like she was special. Uncle Yuley and Momma Lorna told her all the time when she was little, now she knew it. There wasn’t anything she couldn’t do, the gods themselves had chosen her. It didn’t concern her in the slightest she no longer had one of the magi for guidance; she had something better.

  Yes, child, I am all you need. Placate these pretenders, but I will unlock your true potential.

  She raised her head, catching her breath. Her sight focused straight ahead, and she saw visions of what could be. In a single instant she saw herself transcending the limits of human understanding; she could know all, and see all - even death itself would be no barrier for her. Her lips turned upward in a small smile.

  “Yes,” she whispered. She wanted everything He had to offer.

  Do as I say, and you shall have it.

  Desperation

  Seasons passed, much remaining unchanged in the lives of those at the keep. Sevra grew taller, losing some of her childish features as she began to bloom into adolescence. Master Bernard only recovered partially from his illness, his brain afflicted by advanced age, a disease for which there was no cure. He had long ago grown old, and it was a fact of nature that could not be delayed any longer. Sevra visited him on occasion, but as time went by the visits became increasingly infrequent. Uncle Yuley came by two or three times a year to see her; she always enjoyed his visits. He still called her Sparklebug, and remembering her time with him as a child was the one memory that made her heart ache.

  Their last visit is what brought her into the woods every night, trying to find a solution. Each time she thought about it, her resolve only grew stronger. She was running out of time.

  “I have bad news, sweetheart,” Yuley told her.

  “Is it Momma Lorna?” Sevra asked.

  “No, you really should come back and visit though, she misses you,” Yuley said.

  She looked out of her window without answering. As the years slipped by it was easier to justify not returning, and harder to find a reason to go back. At least here, part of her felt like she belonged. The longer away from Shady Vale, the more she realized it was never really her home.

  “What is it then?” Sevra asked shakily. She knew the answer, could sense it and didn’t want to believe it. She needed to hear it.

  “I’m dying,” Yuley told her bluntly, he could see she already knew. The girl always knew what it was when something was wrong.

  She didn’t move, continuing to stare into the courtyard. Tears began to swell in her eyes and she needed to compose herself before turning around. She didn’t want to cry in front of him.

  He walked over and put his hand on her shoulder, “It’s going to be okay.”

  She turned without looking at him, hugging him closely. “How can you say that? How do you know?” she asked.

  His ribs poked into her, and when she managed to look up she could see that his face was too thin. How had she not known something was wrong when she first looked at him?

  “It’s part of life. I’ve grown old, we all do. I wanted to make sure I saw you again.”

  “Maybe you’re just sick and will get better,” Sevra insisted, “people get sick you know.”

  “Perhaps,” Yuley said, offering a smile that extended into his eyes. They shone with contentment.

  Sevra had spent enough time with Momma Lorna as she tried to fix other people’s illnesses; Uncle Yuley looked like he had a wasting disease. They never ended well and deep down she knew it. She just didn’t want to believe it, couldn’t believe it.

  “I’ll come back with you, take care of you. Please Uncle Yuley.” Sevra pleaded.

  “N
o, it’s too important that you stay here and finish your training,” he said firmly, “who’s teaching you now that Bernard is no longer able?”

  “Don’t change the subject.”

  “C’mon, let’s just have a conversation, tell me about you for a while,” he said. “There’s still plenty of time to talk about me, or yell at me. Whatever you need to do.”

  “I’ve had many different instructors lately,” she answered dismissively, “they don’t matter. What am I going to do without you?”

  Recalling Uncle Yuley’s condition strengthened her resolve. She looked out into the darkness, calling forth several spheres of light to see by. The only consistencies in Sevra’s life over the past few years were the ever changing line of tutors assigned to her, and her Uncle Yuley. Occasionally she felt lonely, but it always passed. Her entire life she had been mostly alone, and realized she was better off without others meddling in her business. Without Uncle Yuley though, she would have no one. She didn’t know if she could face that.

  Ever since Master Bernard’s illness she never seemed to keep one instructor for longer than a few months; they would always fall sick shortly after taking her on. After going through six or seven, she lost count. It had been nearly half a year since she even had an instructor at this point, though she certainly didn’t mention it to Yuley. Somehow she fell by the wayside.

  Through the series of wizards and possible miscommunications on their behalf, no one seemed to be responsible for her. She didn’t mind, actually preferred the freedom it offered. Whenever she saw Bernard he would ask how she was doing, and she would tell him her instruction was going well. It wasn’t exactly a lie; she still received all the guidance she needed. The Gods escorted her along her journey now, better than any of the magi ever could have. When she prayed for a way to save Yuley, they guided her here, to these woods outside of the keep to perfect the magic that could save him.

  She was told what was necessary to save her Uncle was not for the faint of heart, and she would need to be willing to do things she might not otherwise have done, or even approved of someone else doing. To restore life required life. She slipped into the realm of spirits, half in this world and half in the other, as He taught her. Patiently she waited for her prey.

  Remember, as I have shown you.

  “Yes, I remember,” she whispered.

  A deer approached one of the lights, staring at it quizzically. Quietly she approached it from behind, pausing whenever it would show signs of startlement. As stealthy as a wraith in her altered state, she resumed stalking, approaching within only a few feet of the buck. White and black swirls intermingled with the creature, streaking and trailing in a delicately balanced dance surrounding it.

  Beauty and the perfection of nature were demonstrated within the beast; it was a machine more elaborate than the finest clock, with additional, mystical components that gave it life. Those were the components she required. She admired it, as she admired all of the others before doing what was necessary.

  She extended her thoughts outward, her will manifesting into a physical wave, slowly spreading forward. The dark and light swirls around the deer began to pull out of their rotation, drawing towards her. The wave turned a greenish hue, reacting with the essence that was once the animal, while the deer itself began to wither like a parched flower. The entire amalgamation of energy contracted violently, returning to Sevra.

  Her head threw back involuntarily, a mixture of pain and pleasure. She could feel the vitality once giving life to the deer coursing through her; nothing made her feel more alive than coming out here to practice what could save Uncle Yuley. The act revolted her. Part of her was scared by how good it felt, and how much she was starting to crave the kill. She dismissed the notion immediately, pushing it down and refusing to acknowledge her worries.

  Are you sure you can handle what needs to be done when the time comes? Are you ready to kill? It is the only way to save him.

  “I can do it,” she answered, her resolve unyielding. She had to be able to.