The Prophecy

by Amanda DeShane

  “There’s no time! Get in. The scroll is your responsibility now. Find Aurora once you turn seventeen. Study and teach her what you can and take her to Asgard. Above all, protect the scroll for without it all will be lost. There’s a map inside. It will help you find her once it’s time! Be careful who you trust; not everyone is your friend. Tell no one that you have the scroll! Go to the other temple study. Keep safe and may the Gods be with you.”

  He said as he urged the pupil into the small space of the grate. Dropping the grate in place after hastily passing the scared pupil the scroll, the priest wiped his sweaty palms on the front of his red robes. As he turned around, his red robes swished over the grate. And the boy instinctively turned into a black wolf pup with a white star on his forehead, with the scroll in its case grasped between his teeth. He lay still curled up in a furry ball frozen with fear as he heard the intricately carved doors to the room open.

  The doors banged open, shaking the exquisite artwork on the walls. In walked five demons that appeared to be men dressed in black leathers. If they were above ground in the city, the humans would have pegged them as badass bikers. But the priest could tell that they were not human. The leader, a higher-level demon, stalked towards him, red eyes locked on him. The higher-level demons long black hair tapered off at his shoulders with a bright green streak down the left side. An ugly scar marred his right cheek, stopping at the corner of his mouth. It made his manic grin far more unnerving then it would have been otherwise.

  “Where is the Asgardian prophecy scroll? I suggest you tell me before I become too convincing and decide to carve an answer out of your hide.” He demanded, grimly smiling as he pulled a magic blessed hand blade out of his pocket. He was holding it to the priest’s neck in threat. The priest standing stock still spoke while staring into his red eyes that marked him as a demon.

  “We don’t carry important scrolls like that here, so I can’t help you.” With a wicked smile, the demon looked over his shoulder and glared at his lower-level demons. “Legion, what happens to mere people that serve no purpose to me?” As one, they smiled wickedly and eerily spoke as one.

  “They get a one-way ticket to the land of fire to burn for eternity.” the lead demon smiled at the priest.

  “Last chance priest,” The priest swallowed hard. He knew he didn’t stand a chance, but for the sake of the boy under his feet, he would try. He ducked out of the demon’s reach. Then raising his hands, he shot lightning bolt electricity from his hands at the demon horde. It forked in five directions hitting all five at once. Smoke raised from their bodies as their skin sizzled slightly. One of the Legion lashed out, throwing a knife that lodged itself in the priest’s leg. He yelled in pain but tried to keep up the lyn bolt of power. But the higher-level demon merely held out his hand and closed it around the bolt and took his power. Like a snuffed-out candle, his powers were gone. In the blink of an eye, it was over. His flimsy chance at fighting had failed, and the priest knew these would likely be his last seconds on earth. Willing himself not to look at the grate under his feet, he silently told himself his sacrifice was worth his pupils’ life and Aurora’s life. She had to survive and learn about her powers. Without her equipped to fight with all her gifts, this war would continue until the demons and giants found Fenrir. If they found Fenrir, the nine worlds as they knew it would cease to exist.

  When a demon killed someone, they took their soul into the spirit realm, where you would end up in the land of fire. The land of fire was originally supposed to only be for evil souls. But since the death of the Goddess Hel who perished in the Aesir Vanir War, a person’s innocence didn’t matter. Demon’s had long ago taken over the land of fire and driven out all the Dragon shifters that once dwelled there. The only way out was for a God to take pity on you and intervein. And since there were only two Gods left, he was sure they were quite busy.

  “I guess your no use to me then.” Maniacal laughing was the last thing the priest heard before the higher-level demon cut his throat, slaughtering him and leaving him where he fell on top of the grate. Banging echoed off the walls as the demons looked for secret doorways or spaces to hold things. The sounds of papers being torn, and furniture being thrown and splintered resounded in the small space. Books being thrown, their pages whispering in the air as they fell to the floor strewn. The demon’s heavy thumping footsteps could be heard as they searched long and hard for the scroll. They trashed the temple frantically, looking for the scroll only to leave empty-handed a while later.

  The priest’s pupil stayed curled up eyes closed tight and still, wisely deciding not to move. He couldn’t feel his legs and paws as it was long past when they had first gone numb. He didn’t dare move, though, and he feared that moving would give away his location. Tears streamed down his wolf pup face, as drops of his beloved teachers' blood dripped down over him. The thick copper tang of blood ever keen to his wolf pup senses assaulting his nose. His human mindfully in control of his wolf demanded he not whine and cry as his wolf's instinct told him to do. It wasn’t until an hour after the demons had left that he decided to move. His whole body was numb and screaming in pain from being frozen in fear for what felt like hours. Sniffing the air, he confirmed that the demons and any danger were long gone, so he shifted back to his human form. Bones cracked and reformed into his human shape. Being a shifter wolf wasn’t always easy; the first shift was painful and incredibly difficult. But as a shifter got older, shifting became more natural, and the pain eventually didn’t register with one’s body any longer. Picking up his torn clothing, he put the cream-colored robe now soiled with dirt and blood back on. Covered in dirt, blood, and sweat, he walked the tunnels in his bare feet.

  Working his way through the grate air vent, he bypassed all the rooms of the temple and made his way to a secret passageway that would take him to a tunnel underground. The pupil knew that the demons now had control of the temple and had decided that going back through the corridors would be very unwise. Shaking with shock and worry, he made himself move on silent feet, padding softly down the tunnel. Holding out an orb of light to illuminate his path, he walked through the underground tunnel dodging rats who had taken up residence. He knew the tunnel would lead him to the temple of Frigg, a handful of miles underground. It was located just under the village of Cave Di Maiano. Once at the temple of Frigg, he knew he would have to tell about the downfall of the temple and say nothing to anyone about the scroll and the secrets he carried.

  Chapter one: Aurora

  The sound of plates smashing into thousands of pieces against the baby blue kitchen walls ricocheted throughout the house. Fighting and stomping in a struggle accompanied by yelling and screaming as my foster mom fought off an older foster kid named Greta, who had decided to trash the house and to wield knives. I had come face to face with Greta and her knife in the hallway on my way to the kid’s rooms. She stood there in a pink flower, sundress laughing. Her eyes looked glazed over and crazed. Freezing I panicked adrenaline pumping, I put my hands up instinctively to defend myself. Then suddenly, my hands started glowing, bright white light that shot out lassoing Greta’s arm and electrocuting her slightly. Aurora's jaw dropped in shock, and her hand holding the knife opened, dropping the knife to the floor.

  Shocked out of my mind, I mentally told myself to move it. Taking the chance, I ran past her to the end of the hall, where the other foster kids stood watching the whole thing. I rushed all the younger toddlers and kids into a bedroom and locked the door. Then placed a chair under the doorknob as an added precaution. Once inside, I stared down at my hands, wondering if it was just the shock or had my hands actually lit up like mini lightning rods and fired away? Maybe I was going insane. I looked at my hands then looked at the kids. Nope, I can’t have a mental breakdown right now! Not happening! Nope, I’m just going to pretend that didn’t happen. The children all huddled on the floor scared, and a few were curled into the fetal position sucking thumbs or snuggling a toy tight. I was just as terrified as them heck
I wanted to curl up in a ball too, but my protective instincts had kicked in. So, I grabbed a few kids’ books off the dresser and sat down against the far wall, letting them cuddle up to me as I read them a story. Brian, the four-year-old looked at me suddenly and upchucked all over my pants. I couldn’t be mad at him regardless of not being pleased that I now smelled like regurgitated dinner. With my mouth in a grim line, I steadied my own now rolling stomach. Grabbing the Kleenex, I cleaned myself up the best I could while trying not to gag. The last thing we needed was for me to be adding to the smell in this room. The poor kid looked scared that I’d freak out on him for puking.

  “It's okay, Brian I think all our stomachs are a bit upset given what’s going on.” Kids aren’t stupid; they could hear the yelling and probably saw the knives before I grabbed them and got them to safety. A few pages into the second book we were reading, one of the little girls looked at me as she stood up while crossing her legs.

  “Aurora, I need the potty.” Oh, great, I thought it’s not like walking to the bathroom is an option right now —Murphy’s law. Looking around, I grabbed a wastebasket dumping the contents out onto the carpet.

  “You got to go number one or two?” I asked in a whisper to try to avoid embarrassing the poor girl. I don’t know why I asked it’s not like it made a difference; either way, this bin was the only option.

  “Number one” she whispered embarrassedly. So, improvising like a champ, I cleared some room in the closet and snagged a Kleenex box.

  “It’s the best I can do Sally, you're going to have to pee in the wastebasket and wipe with some Kleenex okay?” nodding; she whispered, “okay," reaching over I pulled closed the off white closet doors a bit to give her privacy.

  I then explained to the kids that going to the normal bathroom wasn’t safe right now. The last thing I needed was the older kids making fun of sally for having to pee in a wastebasket in a closet. I wanted to block out what was taking place out there, protect their little ears. But truth be told if they stayed in care chances sadly were that they could and would experience worse by my age. Pounding and mad screaming could be heard in the hallway. I leaned my body against the door, hoping it would hold if Greta tried to force her way into the room. Not for the first time tonight, I wished I had a cell phone or access to a phone to call for help. I would be turning seventeen in less than a week, and I still had no idea where I fit in or what I wanted to do with my life aside from surviving. I had been in foster care since I was a month old. I was dropped off on a church step like I was unwanted and worth nothing. Running footsteps coming up the hall stairs brought me back to the present. I could now hear pounding on a door down the hall and a siren outside. Good, it sounded like the police were here. I mentally crossed my fingers that my foster mom was okay. Worry sat at the back of my brain, trying to overwhelm me, but I knew I had to keep it together for the kids. I didn’t relish the idea of being passed off to yet another home. Foster care was at times like Russian roulette; you never knew what you would get.

  I returned to sit with the kids sliding down the wall until I sat cross-legged on the floor. Continuing to read as I sat with two children leaned against my right side as Sally rejoined us, laying her head in my lap. Focusing on the book, I continued reading Goldilocks to the kids while I stroked Sally’s hair comfortingly. Pounding on the bedroom door sounded startling me in mid-sentence, jumping up from the floor instinctively ready to fight if I had to protect the kids. Dammit! My hands glowed again. Sally pointed to my hands. “Why they glow Aurora?” Shrugging my shoulders and turned my back to the kids and focused on the door and my issue with my hands. What the ever-loving fuck. Although I was mentally ready to fight, I couldn’t do more than scrap. I first yelled out.

  “Who is it?” pausing to listen, I heard.

  “Constable Roberts, ma’am.” Wow in one night I’d been puked on, had lightning shoot out of my damn hands. And dodged knives and called ma’am like an old lady. Wildly shaking my hands, I willed them to stop fucking glowing.

  “Can I see your badge under the door, please?” He responded,” Yes, ma’am," pushing his badge under the door. I picked up the badge seeing it was a real police officer badge, then pushed it back.

  “Is it safe to come out now?” as I looked over my shoulder at the scared, frightened faces staring back at me. “Yes, ma’am, it’s safe.” Looking once again at my hands, I was relieved to see they were back to normal. Pushing the odd super charged hands issue to the back of my head, I told myself to breathe. Focus on now. So, taking a deep breath, I started removing the chair from the door. I unlocked the door. Opening it, I just knew my whole world was about to change whether I wanted it to or not. I mentally reminded myself if my hands glowed like lightning bolts. This was far beyond just being life changing. Constable, Robert’s face said it all even before he opened his mouth. I had always had the gift of being able to tell if someone was lying or pick up on little undercurrents. A trail of red blood was smeared down the hallway walls. Cold, clammy dread settled over me as I choked out the words.

  “Is my foster mom Mia okay?” He sadly shook his head and asked me to take a seat. On shaky legs, I sat in the chair I had removed from the door handle. It was then I knew even before he told me that as I’d hid like a coward protecting the kid’s, she had taken her last breath. Tears welled in my eyes as the constable went on to tell me she had died, and they had Greta in custody. I felt like I was swallowed in grief totally in a fog as I heard the kids crying.

  Aurora woke up sweating heavily with tears streaming down her face, laying on the bottom bunk in her new shared room. Her damn hands were doing the bright glow thing again. Stuffing her hands under the blankets, she willed herself to calm down. It had become apparent that anytime she had strong emotions or adrenaline coursing through her veins, her hands would glow, like mini stun guns at the ready. Staring up at the top bunk above her head, blinking back the tears, she tried not to make a sound. The last thing she needed was to wake her new foster sibling up and have them asking why her hands emitted light. Normally she chastised herself for crying, and she couldn’t help it thanks to being raised with adults who thought tears were a sign of manipulation and not just emotions that leaked out. She could recall one time in the back of a car being yelled at to stop crying. When her seven-year-old self kept crying, she was pulled from the car and left on the side of the road. Shaking the cobwebs of the past from her head, she let herself cry. Reminiscing never helped anyone. The past was the past she told herself. It wasn’t like anyone was watching, so it was safe to cry now. It was the dream again. But it wasn’t just a dream; unfortunately, it couldn’t just be wiped aside like it was nothing because it had happened. Her hands had lit up like lightning bolts. Mia, her foster mom, was gone, and here she sat in yet another new home. Mia had her own issues when she was alive. She had been big on the bottle and not so nice to be around when she drank. But at least with Mia Arora had known where she stood and what to expect. Better the devil you knew than the one you didn’t right. Now she was faced with a new home, a new town and starting today a new school. And some freakish power she hoped to God didn’t just happen in front of anyone. With the shortage of foster homes in Abbottsford, they had shipped Aurora off to the small town of Hope, BC. How ironic was it that she would end up in a town called Hope when she felt all out of hope? Sighing, she looked at the glowing red numbers on the digital clock that sat on the bedside table. It read five-thirty am. Deciding she may as well get up and get ready for the day, she dashed to the hallway bathroom, quietly closing the door.

  Then looked at herself in the big oval mirror, long bright royal blue hair with teal highlights at the tips settled on her small petite shoulders. Green eyes that were red and puffy from crying and a pert nose stared back at her. Standing five feet eight inches with a honey complexion, she was more the tomboy type. Makeup and dressing up; she usually left for very rare special occasions. Tearing the black tank top, she had worn to bed off, she reached for a cloth an
d ran it under the warm water. Wiping down her armpits before putting deodorant on, she glanced at her one secret. The big Raven and Norse Compass tattoo on her back had been her rebellious decision a few months before Mia’s death.

  Having had always looked older than she was, it hadn’t been hard in Abby to get a fake ID. So, she had lied about her age. Staring into the mirror, Aurora recalled going into the shop with her birthday money, not knowing what she wanted. She only knew it had to be a symbol of herself being a free spirit. And since she figured that she could use some luck and guidance, a Norse compass was fitting, and the Raven she had been drawn to almost as if it was a long-lost friend that she vaguely recognized. Done reminiscing, she turned the taps on again and grabbed a facecloth washing her face and neck. Then taking a deep breath hung up the cloth deciding to face her day.

  Back in her new room, she dug in her bag for a pair of Jeans’ and favorite baby blue t-shirt that read free spirit across the top. Quickly getting dressed, she threw her stuff in her bag, then grabbing her combat boots and school bag before sneaking down the old creaky stairs. Grabbing a blueberry muffin off the counter, then tiptoeing into the library, she gawked at the walls of books. Books were her most favorite thing in the world. You could disappear into new lands and avoid the harsh realities that life sometimes presented, simply by opening a book. Her new home was an old colonial-style house. It was far fancier then she was used too. Looking at it from the front-drive, it was like a mansion to her. It was a brick building with shutters framing the five windows on the top floor and four on the bottom with the door in the center framed by big white pillars. Grabbing a fantasy novel off the bookshelf, she put it in her school bag, crossing her fingers that her new foster parents weren’t going to lose their shit with her, over her borrowing it. Being light on her feet in fear of waking anyone up, she headed back towards the kitchen to see about making a simple sandwich to throw in her bag for lunch. As she opened the fridge door, the kitchen lights flashed on. Startled, she turned around quickly.