by Jaci Miller
There was a small stone kiln at the edge of the property and as she passed it she noticed the embers were still warm from recent use. Suddenly, the creak of rusty hinges broke the odd silence that cloaked the vale and the front door of the cottage opened.
She was stunned by the sudden appearance and engaging beauty of the woman who emerged. The stranger walked toward her, long blonde hair hanging in a glistening sheen down her back, small wisps fluttering behind her as she moved. The sides were pulled back into small braids revealing a dark streak that ran defiantly through her blond hair, behind her right ear. Her pale skin was flawless, her eyes, a light gold with flecks of silver and violet highlighting the irises making them glisten as she emerged from the shadows of the Elder Oak. She wore a simple outfit of thin black pants, knee-high leather boots, a white gauzy blouse and a tan leather vest. Hanging from her neck was a glass and silver orb, tied to a long thin black leather string. Inside the orb was a small crystal, its edges sparkling erratically as it too caught the sunlight.
“We have been waiting for you,” the woman said hugging her warmly. She stiffened slightly under the unfamiliar and unexpected embrace.
“Quickly Claaven we don’t have much time,” the woman called over her shoulder as a man emerged from the cottage. His gentle eyes were the color of fresh sage, his tanned face was etched with scars, some hidden by the unshaven scruff that covered the lower part. Sections of his long white hair were braided at the temples, small beads hanging at their ends. He was dressed all in black and his leather boots were dusty and worn. Around his neck was a silver medallion which bore markings that she was sure she had seen before.
She studied him as he approached, the name the woman had called him still echoing in her ears.
“Have we met before?” She asked as he came to stand beside the woman. She felt an odd type of kinship with this stranger. Desperately she searched her memory for clues, but its recesses were clouded by a thick fog.
His smile was genuine and comforting as he shook his head. “I’m afraid not.” His deep voice was soothing and emitted a quiet power that relayed a sense of importance and stature.
“Where am I?” She asked
“Somewhere of your making,” he responded his eyes never leaving her face.
Confused by his response she looked around for anything familiar. “Why am I here?”
“You have begun your journey,” the woman answered. “You have come to the place where we are born and where we return to.”
“Am I dead?” She asked calmly.
“No,” said the woman, grasping her hand. “Quite the opposite. You have come here to begin your journey not to end it.”
“Your true destiny has begun,” the man said holding out his hand. “Now that the magic has been reborn you must claim your birthright.”
She reached out slowly, taking his hand. She did not understand the meaning of his words but instinctively she knew she was meant to be here, to be with them.
The man began muttering something under his breath as the three of them stood in a circle, hands interlocked. The air in the vale began to swirl making the Elder Oak groan in response, its low hanging limbs swinging back and forth. She could feel a shift in the energy around her as his incantation awakened the ancient magic that lay dormant within him and the woman. She watched as a soft golden light seeped from her, a green one from him, the energy surrounding their bodies.
Slowly, the light moved away from them manifesting into a singular orb at the center of the circle. The orb hovered momentarily before beginning to spin, its speed increasing as sparks began to spit out from its center. Unexpectedly, the ball of light flew directly into her, flooding her with a warm glow, a choir of whispers exploding in her head. A kaleidoscope of images passed through her mind as an electric tingle surged through the couple’s hands into her own. Suddenly, she was aware of the past, the present, and the uncertain future; her ancestor’s knowledge passed through generations was now her own. Her birthright had been fulfilled.
The whispering and images ceased as the last of the ancient magic they possessed were transferred to her. The vale became quiet once again as the man released her hand and looked her directly in the eye.
“You have all you need my child; your destiny is now your own.” Squeezing her shoulder, he smiled and then turned and walked away.
“Come Seri,” he called over his shoulder as he retreated toward the cottage, “our time here is no more.”
The woman nodded at him in acknowledgment.
Smiling warmly and with a light twinkling in the depths of her beautiful eyes, she said calmly. “We will always be with you now. Do not fear what is to come for you will never be alone.”
Releasing her hand, she too turned and walked away, glancing back only once before the two of them faded away in a shimmering golden light.
The sky above the vale began to darken. The air cooled. The vivid green of the grass faded, and the majestic mountains began to disappear as the hazy blur hovering beyond their edges descended. The beauty of this place was slowly disappearing as a black shadow seeped from the blur swallowing everything in its path until the vale was nothing more than the spot where she stood.
As the black shadow drew near, she thought she heard a familiar voice hidden in its depths calling her name. It was faint at first but grew in strength as the black shadow crept its way toward her. As the thick dark ink washed through her mind, she heard the strange tick of a clock off in the distance, its haunting sound echoing through the darkness as the hand of unconsciousness pulled her down toward that familiar voice.
Chapter 29
Rafe ran toward Dane, calling her name as he sprinted up the altar steps. He had heard her speaking as he stood waiting beyond the temple door and then felt a presence surrounding her. He was not concerned for her well-being as he could feel she was not afraid, it was the energy of the presence that made him disobey the forbidden and enter the sacred sanctuary, for it was familiar to him.
To his surprise, he found her standing on the altar her eyes closed and her mouth uttering incoherent words. She was doused with a subtle white light as the familiar sparks of ancient energy flared around her. He watched in awe as pure white light swirled in a ball in front of her and then disappeared inside her. The presence he felt surrounding her retreated and disappeared leaving only a fragmented whisper of the past and a haunting sadness. Her eyes flew open, glazed eyes staring at something in the distance, curiosity, and confusion contorting her beautiful features before she lost consciousness and collapsed onto the stone altar.
He could hear a hollow tick tock somewhere in the distance as he held her limp body, the low incessant rhythm echoing through the quiet night. Gently he whispered her name over and over until finally, her eyes fluttered open. He saw a strange shadow cloud them before the confusion cleared and she focused on his face.
“Hi,” she said, her hand reaching up to touch his face.
“How do you feel,” he asked, trying not to reveal his concern.
“I’m ok.”
She struggled to sit up in her weakened state, leaning on him for support. Her mind was still foggy. Carefully shook her head trying to release the last of the cobwebs.
Looking at him tentatively she whispered, “I saw them.”
He helped her to her feet. “Saw who?”
“Claaven and Seri.” She said matter-of-factly, her clear mind now able to make the connection. He continued to stare, his green eyes blank, her words apparently not eliciting any type of outward reaction.
“Where?” He asked, the feeling of familiarity the strange energy had provoked now making sense.
“I’m not sure where we were. Seri said it was a place of my making.”
Surprise showed on his face and his stare hardened momentarily causing a cold chill to run up her spine.
He hesitated before he whispered, “The Gilded Lands.”
“What are the Gilded Lands?” She asked, “Or do I not want to know.”
He took a deep breath, a cloud of concern passing over his handsome features. “The Gilded Lands is the place where my people, our people,” he corrected, “begin their life cycle and where they return to when it ends.”
“That is what Seri said,” she whispered. “Where is this place?”
“It is in the ethereal plane, a place of peace, tranquility and rest. A place where people go but do not return. It is the destination of a supernaturals life force, its final journey.” He hesitated momentarily, his face wrinkling at the brow as if he were trying to come to terms with her statement. “What happened when you were there?”
She shook her head trying to recall all the details of this place. “It was a beautiful place, tranquil but there was something lurking beyond its edges, something that felt empty and dark, waiting. They appeared to me, Seri and Claaven, but I did not know who they were, even when she spoke his name. There was a memory hovering at the edges of my mind, but I could not grasp it. My memories seemed stifled somehow as if I was only supposed to function in that moment. Anyway, they took my hand and Claaven began an incantation and suddenly their magic passed to me. I could feel their past, I understood their world, and the magic gave me knowledge and power—an ancient knowing. Then they disappeared, and a black shadow began to fall over the vale. It did not belong there; its energy was malevolent. It entered the vale seeping from its seams, swallowing up the surrounding tranquility until it swallowed me too.”
She looked deep into his eyes as her hands reached up to rest on either side of his face. “The voice I heard, calling to me in the darkness, it was you, you led me back.”
Rafe hugged her tightly, the feelings he had for this woman were overwhelming. The mere thought of her entering the Gilded Lands was too much to bear, but that she had returned was even more inconceivable, especially since he was sure the black shadow in there with her was the ancient dark. It had somehow connected with her subconscious mind and was able to manifest its presence within it.
Releasing her, he turned and walked slowly around the stone altar, he needed to think, his mind trying desperately to process the information she had provided.
“I have never known anyone to inherit magic. The people of the Thanissia Universe are all born with it. It is who we are, magical beings from birth, harnessing the magic of the elements that we are born from. How that magic was to be transferred to each of the Arcanists has always been the great mystery surrounding the ancient prophecy. I believe I now understand. The ancient magic must be encapsulated in your bloodline even though our magic ceased to exist in your world. The magical races never truly die unless the bloodline ends. The prophecy declares that the Arcanists are all born from the six ancient bloodlines, the magic from this world must reside within you, all of you, waiting. That is why the Druidstones in each realm must be reactivated. None of you can regain your powers without the help of your ancestors who have passed on.”
Rafe’s pacing picked up speed as he thought out loud. “You see, the ethereal plane lays in stasis just like the realms, therefore, only re-awakening the ancient magic will allow it to be transferred. It must be why you were chosen first to receive your birthright. Your heritage is unique Dane for you are the daughter of two sacred bloodlines because of the binding of Claaven and Seri. You have the blood magic of both the Warlician and the Celestial flowing through you. You are born of the earth but marked by spirit. It must be the reason they were the ones to pass the ancient magic on to you. In our world, it is extremely rare that couplings happen outside of one’s own race. The fact that your ancestors and your birthright are a mixture of two powerful races means that the ancient magic you have just inherited is extremely rare. How that will manifest in you is unknown especially since you possess magic from your own world.”
“Do you feel any different?” He asked coming back to her side.
“No,” she said wondering why she didn’t.
“Well, in time the magic will reveal itself to you and you will learn about your new powers and how to wield them. But for now, we must go. The realm is waking, and we will soon be able to use magic to find the Book of Realms.”
He gathered up their gear and led her back through the stone-walled path, the moon’s glow the only guiding light.
Emerging onto the dusty crag he stopped.
“We will go down the backside of the mountain. It is quicker but unfortunately a more difficult way to traverse the peak.” Taking her hand, he looked deep into her eyes. “Remember you are immortal now, trust your instincts, and allow the magic to guide you.”
She nodded. Looking past him, her eyes searched the top of the mountain. There was something different about the barren landscape now, it seemed more alive, vibrant. Small swirls of dust sparkled in the moonlight, their flecks caught in the moon’s beams. The dry grass blew gracefully back and forth in the night breeze, the rustling melodic. She listened intently, her senses far acuter, immersing her in the hidden energy that sprang from this realm and bringing back Sebastian’s words—your being will become one with the environment.
As they descended, the magic began opening around her, seeping into every corner and space. The tall grasses waved gently back and forth, the trees stretched their limbs. There was a multitude of smells in the air, drifting past her nose, and tickling her mind. Vibrant colors claimed the landscape as Dywen burst into a kaleidoscope of color. The realm was being re-energized by the Druidstone and she could feel it breathe as new life pumped into its tired ancient bones. Everything around her hummed; a beautiful chorus of nature singing as it fed off the ancient magic that flowed unseen across the landscape.
Her focus narrowed as she followed Rafe down the mountain trail, the path running precariously close to the edge. Twice she lost her footing on some loose stones causing her to stumble toward the cliff side. Shifting her weight, she had easily maneuvered a correction and continued down the hazardous trail without losing a beat.
She felt stronger, more certain of herself, as her movements became acutely precise. Allowing her instincts to guide her, she ran faster, jumping over fallen logs and easily traversing through thick foliage. Her breathing calmed as it matched her pace. The further down the mountain they descended the more intense the magical energy became. Adrenaline pounded through her veins, her eyes taking in every minuscule aspect of the surrounding landscape. She ran with ease finding a grace in her movement, which allowed her to skim over the ground effortlessly. Her skin was covered with a thin sheen of sweat that glistened with magical energy in the emerging dawn’s subtle light. Slowly, she became one with her ancestral world. Her senses heightened as her surroundings intensified and became vivid.
The cracks in the bark of the trees were visible as she ran by them, their edges carved by years of exposure to the sun and wind. The early morning dew drops clung desperately to the leaves, their movement shimmering as they ran slowly down their hosts. She could taste their salty, earthy tang on her tongue as she ran by.
The trees groaned overhead whispering their good mornings as she and Rafe made their way through the thickening forest at the base of the mountain. The scents that wafted by on the morning breeze tickled her nose as the rising sun broke radiantly over the distant horizon, bathing the landscape in its early morning warmth.
She slowed her pace and closed her eyes allowing her instincts to guide her. This newfound feeling of control that seeped from every pore was exhilarating, intoxicating, and powerful. Opening her eyes again, she saw Rafe slowing his pace as he exited the edge of the forest up ahead.
The dawn broke, its elusive light penetrating the trees as she emerged to see him standing at the edge of a small cliff, a black silhouette highlighted by the early morning glare. She
walked forward standing quietly beside him, surveying the landscape that stretched endlessly before them.
“The Dead Lands,” he said a somber look on his face as he gestured to the wide expanse of barren land present in the canyon below.
“The Dead Lands,” she repeated, as she scanned the dirt landscape, shocked by its stark opposition to the natural beauty of the rest of Dywen. The floor of the canyon was parched, its cracked muted color palette void of any vitality. Large aging rock formations protruded up toward the sky, their dark exteriors battered by years of exposure, were dusty and crumbling. Small dust clouds churned in the ravine below and the air wafting upward was stale and heavy, a lifeless blanket that wrapped itself silently around her. There were no signs of any vegetation or water and she could see no life of any kind roaming the scarred, dry lands below. She did not feel the same energy awakening here as she had in other parts of Dywen, everything here was unpleasantly stagnant.
“The Dead Lands is a blemish on this beautiful world,” he said as if reading her thoughts. “They exist as a stark reminder that the element earth has many and often opposing sides. Nothing grows here, nothing exists, nothing ever has but its presence is needed to provide balance to our magic.”
She stared at the parched wasteland below as it stretched unyielding across this part of the realm. Silently, she acknowledged the power that opposites had when combined. Although each could exist separately they were balanced when together and similarly, so was this world. For all Dywen’s vibrant beauty, its dark side was just as important to its overall existence.
The raw strength that pulsated from this bleak landscape was unexpected but undeniable and she could feel its tug, an opposing energy that lay lifeless on her skin.
Shifting her thoughts away from the unappealing landscape, she focused back on why they were here.
