Remi and Josh met them with a nod, rather than words. Each held one side of a tent door open, waiting for Violet to enter. She paused, looking to Jasper for reassurance. Since the death of her parents, nothing made sense. Her whole life was a lie and it seemed the web of untruths was growing.
“We’ll keep watch,” Jasper said. “You get changed. We need to blend in if we are to fly under the radar. Don’t trust anyone.”
“What about you?” Violet asked. “Can I trust you?”
“I would like to think so,” Jasper said, running one hand through his thick hair. He licked his lips. “I don’t know what’s going to happen. This book is going to change things.”
“Then why don’t we get rid of it?” Violet pleaded.
“Don’t you think I’ve tried that?” Jasper replied. “It won’t burn. It won’t rip. We can’t trust that it won’t be found if we bury it. For better or worse, this book wants to be read.”
Violet nodded, ducking to enter the tent. “Where will you be when I’m dressed? Do I wait here?”
“I’ll be right outside, waiting,” Jasper said, closing the flaps and zipping them together.
A smile graced her lips, followed by a soft chuckle. This wasn’t the sort of camping she was accustomed to. The interior was a small room all to itself. She bounced on the bed, hands running over the faux fur covers. Somehow, she doubted the townsfolk of the past lived with the glamour of a wide array of furniture in their tents. There was even a closet for clothing, albeit it was empty. Her jacket became the first article to hang.
The contents of the backpack emptied over the bed. Outfit options had been limited on short notice. The one choice she had was a rich purple—unfortunately she had no idea if vibrant colours were available in olden days. Wearing it, she passed more for a gypsy witch than a mage. Hopefully, the jewellery would help authenticate her costume.
Violet ran her fingers over the smooth exterior of the box, stopping on the latch. She bit down on her bottom lip, snapping it and the lid open in one swift motion. The set had become an afterthought, until she was asked to dress up in an as-close-as-possible to era costume. With the festival in full swing, it made sense to wear the headpiece and necklace. They suited the part she was supposed to be playing: a mage.
“Jasper,” Violet called out. The sound of the zipper replied, warranting a step backward. “Is that you?”
“Are you ready?” Jasper replied, before opening one flap.
“Yeah,” Violet mumbled, stepping out. “I hope this is okay. I wasn’t planning on doing any cosplay while I was here.”
Jasper smiled. “You look amazing,” he said, taking her hand.
“Where to now?” Violet asked.
“To find your friend,” Jasper replied. “I’m hoping she can translate some of this for us.”
“Is that safe?” Violet questioned. “We don’t know that much about Marge. I’ve already been warned once sitting beside someone on a plane doesn’t qualify them as a friend.”
“True,” Jasper agreed. “With her strong dislike for my uncle, I think she’ll help us. There aren’t many people who can read this. It’s a lost language. Any clue where we could find her?”
Violet inhaled deeply. “She owns a shop on the main street. She might be there getting ready for the day.”
“It’s worth a shot,” Jasper said. “Lead the way, milady. Wherever you go, I shall follow.”
“Is that a promise?” Violet asked.
Jasper nodded. “Yeah.” He pulled her hand to his lips, leaving a single kiss on the back and shivers running down her spine.
Chapter 27
Jasper pulled Violet behind him. A door left ajar was never a good sign, especially when the store didn’t open for a few more hours. He inched closer, head peering in before allowing the rest of his body to catch up. It didn’t matter how many times he waved Violet off—she tugged on the back of his shirt, refusing to let go.
“What’s her name again?” Jasper whispered.
“It’s Marge,” the shop owner replied, eyebrows arched. “What brings my favourite couple here before the official start of the day?”
“We were hoping to speak with you about something,” Violet replied, stepping out from behind her human shield.
Marge gasped. “You look wonderful,” she cooed. “And you’re wearing the jewellery. I guess you two are here to celebrate the festival. I admit, I’m a bit surprised to see you all dressed up.”
“Not exactly,” Jasper answered, searching the shop with his eyes. “Mind if I ask why your door is wide open when you aren’t open yet?”
“Oh,” Marge chuckled. “A little bird flew in.”
Violet nodded, grinning. “I’ve heard that before,” she said. “If a bird flies inside it means company is coming.”
“No,” Marge snickered. “That’s not it. The bird is still here.” She pointed to the top of a shelving unit. “I was hoping my little feathered friend would find his way back outside on his own. It doesn’t seem to be working.”
“Oh.” Violet pouted, staring at the bird. It took flight, swooping by her head before exiting via the open door.
“Aha!” Marge snapped her fingers, hurrying to lock up after it. “So what brings you two here?”
“Remember the other day when we were at lunch?” Violet started. A nod was enough for her to continue. “We found one.”
“One what?” Marge asked, glancing between her two guests.
“A book of spells and incantations,” Jasper explained.
“You found it on Bordwell Drachen’s property, I take it?” Marge asked, taking a seat on a stool.
“Yes,” Jasper agreed. “It was in a secret chamber in a cave we found.” He pulled the book out of his backpack, offering it to the shopkeeper.
Marge shook her head, keeping her hands tightly pressed against her chest. “Does he know?”
“About the chamber, yes,” Jasper admitted. “That I took the book, no. I was going to tell him, but he changed.”
Marge looked up through forlorn eyes. “Changed how? What did he say?”
“He became enraged,” Jasper explained. “And he insisted the book be retrieved even though the conditions aren’t safe. He was willing to risk everyone’s life except his own and Violet’s. It was as if he needed both her and the incantations.”
“I’m not sure I can... or rather that I want to help you,” Marge declared. “This is no game you are playing.”
“What’s in there?” Violet asked.
“Power,” Marge answered, smiling. “Great power. I can feel it from here. It has been waiting to be unlocked.” Her eyes went dark. “Not all is as it seems.” She turned to Jasper. “I see what people hide... know their secrets. You call him Uncle, but he is not of your blood. Is that why you hide your name from the townsfolk?”
“I was adopted,” Jasper admitted. “My parents couldn’t conceive. Bordwell never knew. He was too busy to care about the life of his only brother. The day they died, my father came to visit the villa. He told me there was something urgent he needed to discuss with my uncle—something he couldn’t allow to happen. There was a car accident. Bordwell denied ever seeing them. What my uncle didn’t know was, if anything happened to my parents, they left a package for me. It contained information about a journal from ancient times.”
“That’s why you came here,” Violet muttered.
“Yes,” Jasper admitted. “I came to find and destroy the journal.”
“Except it can’t be destroyed,” Marge commented. “And how does Violet fit into all of this?”
“I was hoping you could answer that,” Jasper replied. “All I know is he needs her in good health for whatever he is planning.”
“Come here,” Marge ordered. “Take my hand.” Her fingers wiggled, waiting for compliance. “Now, place the other on the book.”
A warmth ran through Violet’s veins, her heart beating at twice the normal rate. “What is this?”
“The jewel
lery... it’s glowing!” Jasper exclaimed, eyes widening. “I’ve never seen such a vibrant colour.”
“It is as I thought,” Marge said, breaking their connection. “You are a reincarnated mage of old. This book could reinstate your powers.”
“That doesn’t explain what my uncle wants with her,” Jasper complained. “It wouldn’t help him any.”
“That depends.” Marge stood, rounding a counter. “If you are the last of your bloodline, he could potentially steal the gifts.”
“How?!” Violet shrieked.
“By killing you,” Marge admitted. “He is of the blood of a dragon clan, as is this young fellow.” She nodded at Jasper. “Although, neither is of royal descent. Your adoption most likely came from your parents sensing the close connection between your past and their own. While they were invested in their new child, your uncle positioned himself to take the throne. That’s probably what your parents were at odds with him about.”
“They knew?” Jasper muttered.
“Oh, yes. They knew,” Marge replied. “The family brought in a young mage as a spiritual guide at harvest time one year, many moons ago. The family grieved the loss of a loved one and asked for closure... a chance to say goodbye. What happened that night was more than any of them expected, awakening mind and soul to the past.”
“It was you,” Violet blurted out.
Marge nodded. “It was me. Centuries later, I am still paying the price for the role I played. We all aged slower, gained sight through our third eyes, and some minor abilities. I was lucky the effects didn’t appear until a day later when I was safely away from the villa.”
“Because you are a mage,” Jasper mumbled.
“And your uncle is from a dragon clan,” Marge added. “Bordwell became obsessed with restoring the rest of his abilities.” She snickered, covering her mouth with one hand. “He is probably kicking himself right now, knowing he was sitting on an incantation book all this time. Who knows what else is buried out there? Only royalty was privileged to such knowledge back in the day.”
“He needs me, though.” Violet’s eyes glossed over. “He needs to sacrifice me to get what he wants.”
“We won’t let that happen,” Jasper asserted. He turned to Marge. “You’re a mage. You have to stop him.”
“I am not strong enough alone.” Marge licked her lips. “We do have to stop him, though. Perhaps together...” she reached for Violet’s hand, “we can. I’ll need to gather some supplies.”
“Does this mean...”
“I’m going to help with the ceremony,” Marge interrupted. “Hopefully, we can repair the damage I did all those years ago. The time of dragons and mages ended long ago. I don’t think this world could handle them making a come back.”
“What can we do?” Jasper asked.
“Stay hidden until nightfall,” Marge answered. “I’ll find you when the time is right.”
Chapter 28
The peacefulness of nightfall was lost to an array of festival-goers, showing off skills of fire and magic. Hungry bellies eagerly awaited a portion of freshly roasted boar, while glasses overflowed with the best local mead. Men sang songs of heroes lost in battle, the clash of steel echoing in the background.
“Won’t they notice us?” Violet asked, quickening her pace to match that of her companions.
“There are numerous magical ceremonies being conducted this evening,” Marge explained. “Of course, most of them won’t actually perform any of the things they are meant to. We’ll blend right in as a reenactment of what mages did.”
“Where are we going?” Jasper questioned, glancing back at the pop-up village they were leaving.
“To the field of dreams,” Marge snickered. “They came up with some corny names for things. It’s the place designated for spells and incantations. Don’t mind the bubbling cauldrons and naked dancing.”
“The what?!” Violet shrieked. “I don’t have to...”
“No. No,” Marge snickered. “Clothing is optional. It really doesn’t make the slightest difference to a spell, but some people prefer to be in their birthday suits. I have to admit, I had my share of fun over the years.”
“Great,” Violet muttered. “I’ll keep the clothes on, thanks.” She glanced back at a group of women in red robes skipping in a circle. “How far do we have to go?”
“We’re here,” Marge announced. “Have a seat, while I sanctify the ground.” White granules showered down, forming a circle, with only a small patch left open. “Once I seal the ring of salt, all three of us must remain inside.”
“I’m not moving,” Violet agreed, crossing her legs in a sitting position. She inhaled deeply, exhaling immediately after.
“This isn’t a meditation session,” Marge snickered. “No need for breathing exercises. Everything is going to be fine.” The last of the salt poured in place. “Hold your hands out in front of you, palms forward.”
“All three of us?” Jasper asked.
“Yes,” Marge answered, taking a sitting position so they formed a triangle of power inside the circle. A few sprigs of wild herbs and flower petals sprinkled on the ground between them. “Everyone relax.”
“That’s easy to say,” Jasper blurted out.
“I can feel your anxious energy. Let it go,” Marge requested, turning the pages of the book. “And so we begin.” Her palms faced outward, matching those of her two companions as she read in a language long forgotten.
Clouds obstructing the view of a perfect full moon scattered, allowing its brilliance to shine down on them. The stars dulled in comparison to their mother against the dark backdrop of the night sky. Beams of silver both cooled and heated their faces, answering to the call of magic.
Violet’s eyes closed, her neck making a circular motion as stress vacated her body. There was no need for a mirror. She could feel the glow—the power of the precious rocks in the jewellery adorning her neck and brow. It was all right there, waiting for her to reach out and grab: the answers to every question she’d ever asked at her fingertips. All she needed to do was stretch.
Her fingers wiggled, itching to be of use and hesitating at the same time. Knowing all was a daunting notion, one she wasn’t sure she was ready for. There was a price tag attached to infinite wisdom—the cost—eternal dedication to its protection—a lifetime of servitude.
The options weighed heavily on her mind. Her life, her friends, her family; all of it was fake. What the universe was offering her at that moment was the only truth she’d ever know. How could she refuse that?
“Don’t break the formation. Keep still until the ritual is complete.”
Violet barely heard the words, but it wouldn’t have mattered if they were shouted directly in both ears. Her attention was already lost. Her fingers stretched, grabbing a hold of what was rightfully hers.
Violet gasped, filling her lungs to capacity, eyes glowing the same vibrant green as the gemstones in her jewellery. A silence fell over the fields. Wispy clouds returned, completely stealing away the night sky’s light. Time froze for a split second, when it started ticking again her breath exhaled—a purple essence escaping slightly parted lips. The fog swirled around them, between them, filling the circle without spilling even a smidge outside the lines.
“Violet Haze,” Jasper said, watching with disbelief as the purple gas took shape. Glowing eyes stared through him as the beast circled, choosing its prey.
With the last of her breath spent, Violet toppled over, slouched in a motionless pile. The dragon roared, taking aim on the sole remaining mage in the trio. It’s powerful jaw opened; drool dripping from sharp teeth. It slithered closer to Marge, seeking its first meal in centuries.
“Here!” Jasper ordered. “I’m the one you want.”
The dragon snorted, darting away for its prey. It flew the circle, picking up speed before becoming a missile aimed straight at Jasper’s chest. His body felt the impact, jerking as the dragon and the fog it was born from disappeared without a trace.
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“Are you all right?” Marge asked, her voice shaking.
Jasper swayed back and forth without answer, hands still facing palm forward as if nothing had happened. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of his pale face, landing on the grass beneath him. The green blades shrivelled to brown on contact.
“Jasper?” Marge repeated a second time. One hand reached out, tapping gently on his shoulder. She gasped, jolting back.
Jasper’s eyelids opened, revealing the same purple glow of the beast. His mouth fell open, a roar escaping. His own hands grasped his skull, squeezing. “I can’t...” He jumped to his feet, running from the field faster than a lioness chasing a gazelle—the only difference, he’d left the gazelle safely behind.
Marge glanced at Violet still motionless. “What have we done? May the gods and goddesses have mercy.”
Chapter 29
White! It was pure, crisp, clean—even the slightest smudge of dirt would ruin its perfection. That was exactly why she’d never have chosen it for herself or her home, yet here she was, surrounded by it.
Violet lay perfectly still on her side. She’d managed to open her eyes, but that was about it. One hand reached out, fingers stretching to touch the sheers blowing toward her from the open window. They weren’t quite long enough, but the warm breeze as a reward was plenty. She’d made that same motion before, but couldn’t remember where or why.
Her fingers waggled, still trying to catch the wind while the rest of her remained put, too comfy to budge even an inch. She both wanted to feel the smooth fabric and didn’t at the same time. A single touch could ruin everything.
“You’re awake I see,” Marge said, standing at the foot of the bed. She waited for an answer that wasn’t coming. “Do you remember anything?”
The wind blew, the sheers parting enough to see a white butterfly, fluttering just outside the window. It was the same as any memory—there one minute—gone the next. The fact that it had been there didn’t matter in the greater scheme of things. Its existence didn’t change the world. The next gust proved her right. The butterfly was gone and she remained.
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