by Namita Singh
James…Aakir, at the border. So, I anyways had two towns to scout for him. I am not ashamed to admit that I couldn’t even scout a single of those towns. You can criticize me all you want but I feel proud that Neal and David are healthy and sitting by my side.”
All of my family finds something interesting to look at apart from Jennifer. It’s obvious they do not approve of Jennifer’s actions but somehow I sympathize with her. I really can’t imagine going through what she is describing. And she doesn’t even look that old. She must be a teenager when all of this must have been conspiring, probably younger than me.
My father clears his throat, “I am sorry, Jennifer.” He says, breaking the odd silence, “I will not say I understand what you went through because I probably don’t, but believe me when I say that you have my sympathies.”
“About time.” David murmured, sighing, “Mr. Lichinsky,”
“Call me Nik.”
“Nik, thank you.” David looks at everyone around, “I don’t know what you all are thinking but I’ll be really happy if you could show a little empathy. We were mere kids, not even mature therians,” he says looking at a stoic Jennifer, “We did what we thought was best according to the circumstances.”
“Well, it didn’t exactly end up happy.” Terry uncle says, sighing, but his tone is not rude anymore, “And so, I am not at all comfortable with you ‘hiding’ Neal. I mean,” he looks at my father, “the idea is even more preposterous than your idea, Nik.”
My father tiredly smirks, placing a hand on Terry uncle’s shoulder. He turns back at Jennifer, “If you don’t mind me asking, can you tell me a bit more about the therians who were hunting you at that time?”
“Yeah, I am dying to know too.” I blurt out on reflex.
Everybody turns to look at the corner where I am leaning against the kitchen slab. But thankfully nobody gives me the funny eye as they all revert back to their conversational flow.
Jennifer sighs, “It started with Aakir’s birth, of course. His birth…was a sign of the vaticinator’s birth.”
“Um, what?” Aakir asks.
“So,” father says, ignoring Aakir, “You’re saying that Aakir is…” he trails off.
“Shouldn’t that be understandable?”
“What should be understandable?” Aakir asks again.
Father sighs, “These theories are not in writing, in any of the books.” He says, looking at Jennifer.
“Of course.” Jennifer replies, “The witches would become beautiful the day they allow keeping records of their own ruthlessness and unfair treatment.”
Father smirks, “I have only heard flying rumors about the vaticinator and the protector. Beg my pardon, if I sound foolish in interrogating.”
“Would someone answer me?” Aakir huffs.
My father turns towards Aakir, “You’re the main protector. I mean, it’s obvious now,” he waves a hand at Jennifer, “that you’re part of the protector’s family but you also happen to be the protector.”
Aakir grimaces, “Protector of what?”
“The vaticinator.” Jennifer supplies, glancing at Neal who has been motionlessly sitting beside her. At him being addressed, he astonishingly looks up towards everyone.
“Uh,” Neal blurts, spluttering, “C-could you guys, maybe, I don’t know, start from the beginning?”
“Yes, please.” Aakir says.
Father looks around his family, most of who are hanging onto every word being spoken. He looks at Jennifer, “You must explain, as I am sure you’re more knowledgeable about the history.”
Jennifer nods, “Neal needs to know about it, anyways.” She looks at him, “As I never told him anything.”
“No shit.” Neal mumbles under his breath, looking away.
“I never wanted you to know about these things in such circumstances, Neal.” Jennifer says, obviously hearing Neal, “In fact, I didn’t want you to know about it your whole life.”
Neal doesn’t reply to that, choosing to find something interesting on the nearest wall.
Jennifer sighs, quite lucidly noticing Neal’s negative disposition towards the events. But she begins, nonetheless, “Did you tell him about the creation of our race?” she asks my father. The latter looks at me instantly.
“I know the therian history.” Neal blurts, before my father and I can say anything. He glances at me, before ephemerally glancing at his aunt, “Josh told me last night.” he goes back to staring at the wall.
“Alright,” Jennifer starts, seemingly undisturbed by Neal’s conservative behavior, “The witches…the occultists, as they have come to be known as, created our race. They are very powerful beings but they have some major drawbacks. Like their inability to reverse their own ‘magic’.”
“Or their inability to modify it or procreate something identical.” Father adds on.
“Absolutely,” Jennifer nods, “The occultists can’t undo their own actions and neither can they repeat it. If they have created a totally different race, that race will continue to evolve as such. That race is the result of the witches’ occultation and therefore, no other energy source, not even the witches’, will bring any effect on that race. We are one such race. The occultists can’t bring changes in us or turn us into pure humans again. Similarly, a vaticinator is also an occultist’s product. And neither us, nor the vaticinator can be created again.”
Father nods, “I know this much that the first vaticinator was inculcated after a century and half a decade of our existence.”
“A human was converted into a vaticiner?” I ask.
“It’s vaticinator.” Father corrects me, “And no, a human wasn’t converted.” He looks at Neal.
Neal raises his eyebrows in surprise, “My ancestral lineage comes from therians?” he blurts out, looking panicky, apparently not at all happy with that piece of news.
Father nods, “The occultist, it was the First I believe, projected her source of power at a pregnant pure human female who had mated with a therian.”
“The progeny had turned up to be a human, of course,” Jennifer adds, “A vaticinator is always a human. With the powers to formulate the future. His ancestral lineage is, yes, the therians on one end. But the main aim of the energy outburst had been at a pure human female at that time,” Jennifer corrects my father, sighing, “Her son had resulted into a vaticinator. However, when the vaticinator further mated, its progeny didn’t hold the powers of the vaticinator.”
Neal frowns, “Then how the hell am I here?”
“You see,” Jennifer continues, “Initially the plan was to turn that pregnant lady into the vaticinator. The First Occultist had incorporated such large amounts of energy into that pregnant female, that the pregnant lady couldn’t accommodate it. As a result, most of the energy that had transpired ended up being concentrated in the growing tissues in her bodyand that was the fetus that was growing inside her. As the fetus was growing, the amount of energy kept multiplying exponentially, finally reaching the amount that made him exhibit the qualities of the vaticinator at birth. When a vaticinator further mates, only a part of that energy is transferred into the new fetus. Now it’s all upon the fetus to multiply that energy to build up a store enough powerful to grant the vaticinator’s abilities. Unfortunately, the subsequent children in the vaticinator’s family failed to develop the requisite amount of energy stores. But,” Jennifer pauses for effect, making sure everybody has her attention, “the evolution of the vaticinator lineage occurred in such a way that every time the energy transferred from a parent to the progeny was larger than what that parent received from its parents.”
“So…finally came a kid who had the sufficient amounts of energy to possess the abilities of the vaticinator.” Neal concludes, grasping the facts.
“Yes.” Jennifer nods, “And it has been usually found that a vaticinator is a product of a pure human female and a therian father. And this whole process of transferring energy from one generation to another till the right amount was obtained usually took two c
enturies.”
“Centuries?” Neal exclaims.
“Yes,” Jennifer replies calmly, “Usually, the next vaticinator comes about after ten generations of the previous vaticinator. So, that calculates to about two hundred years. That is the lifetime of the vaticinator and the next hundred years after his death. So, the next vaticinator takes birth after a century of the death of the previous vaticinator. It can be more or less depending on the situation.”
“What situation?” I ask.
“Well,” Jennifer starts, appraising me, “For starters, the carrier for that sort of energy should be a therian male. And he should mate with a pure human female. There are many probabilities that can come into play with those requisitions.”
“But,” I glance at my mother, “For example, my mom is a pure human but her parents are therians. So, she can be a carrier of that energy too, right? A pure female child of therian parents can carry the energy according to me.” I state.
Jennifer thinks about it, “Most probably, yeah. But in the past a vaticinator has resulted from a therian male with the energy carrier and a pure female who is not of the therian lineage.”
I nod, settling back.
“Where do I come here?” Aakir asks.
“Ah, yes.” Jennifer straightens up. “You see, the First Occultist realized that the vaticinator can provide his services for only eighty to ninety years, that is the whole human life of the vaticinator and that it’ll be followed by a dormant phase of a century,