“No, I’m not blaming anyone. People can’t help what family they are born into. But I believe they do have choices when growing and learning.” I look at her, annoyed that she would think that of me.
“Well, then what are you saying, Rory? The way I see it, you’re judging someone based on the gifts they cannot help to have. Be thankful for your gifts and learn from them.” She snickers. “You have been placed with a purpose, Rory. Use that knowledge to make a difference, not blame others.”
“I’m not blaming anyone…” I feel my face warm. “You don’t act like someone who’s thirteen.”
Stella smiles. “Fifteen, actually. I just had a birthday. Looking like I'm thirteen does have its advantages, though.” She stays focused. “Tell me something, is Wynter evil to you?”
“No, she’s not.” By this time, she’s pushed my anger into the red zone.
“But she has the blood of a Necromancer, the proof is in her tree. What about you? Are you evil, Rory?”
“Excuse me?” Is this chick for real?
“You have the blood of a Silver Dire. Silver Dires are predators of the night, like an Iknes Shaw or a vampire. If caught at night on Ladorielle, or here on the compound for that matter, they will not hesitate to feed.”
I look at her blankly. “How did you know that I was a Silver Dire?”
She huffs. “Your eyes, Rory. It’s a dead giveaway.”
“Is that why you stared me down earlier, because of my silver eyes?”
Stella laughs. “Oh that. I was merely studying you. Testing how you would do under pressure or rather how you would react to being uncomfortable. You see, I have found in my young years—what it takes most to figure out in a lifetime—that observation is the best way to understand an odd species such as yourself.”
“I’m not a predator, nor your test subject. I don’t have to stand for this, especially from a little girl.
She smirks, appearing unaffected by my insult. “Oh Rory, I do say you have much to learn of the Dire species.”
“I wouldn’t take a human life.”
“No, in your human form, of course not. But you have not experienced a full moon yet since being healed by the Waxlily. Trust me, you won’t need to wonder how you will change to a wolf, the moon will do it for you.”
“How do you know all this? What are you saying? That I will change like my sister into a wolf? How much has Isalora told you, anyway?” I’m astounded by Stella’s knowledge. She begins to answer me when a bright light illuminates the level below. The ball of light gives off a buzzing sound like a bee, but much deeper.
“Sounds like Isalora is back,” Stella says, getting up.
The wisp swoops up the stairs into the loft, where Isalora appears. “I see you have been briefing Rory, Stella. Good job.” She smiles. “Now that you have the family history ironed out, shall we begin preparing to get the Storms away from my toxic mother-in-law?”
That, too, needs to sink in my mind as well. This family tree is so screwed up.
I peer outside and notice the storm has lightened a bit, leaving a white blanket of deep snow. The shaded sun begins to hide behind the trees, and I realize it will be dark soon. “So, what’s our plan of attack?” I ask.
Isalora comes to stand next to me, gazing out the window as well, watching Arryn play with her familiar, as he pounces in the snowdrifts. “We sneak in tonight and see who we can grab first.”
The orphans come to mind. “What about the innocent players in all this mess?” I ask, turning to face her eye to eye.
“You mean the children?” Isalora huffs. “Many of them are not innocent as you think. The human children, yes, perhaps.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Isalora raises a brow. “Don’t you know?” she asks. “Surely, Wynter told you?”
“Told me what?”
Isalora hesitates, as though she’s trying to collect her thoughts, and then sits on the bench next to me. “The human children are raised as food for the predators roaming the castle. Moyer throws grand balls auctioning each child as property for the owner to do as they wish. Some are raised for nourishment, while others are raised for reproducing, so Moyer can continue her sick creations. Vampires, werewolves, and necromancer children are raised as soldiers.”
“Are you serious? Is this some sick joke?” My mind begins to flood with rage and disgust.
“It’s no joke, I assure you that. And no matter how much you and I think it’s barbaric and wrong, it won’t stop Moyer from doing it. And it won’t stop the predators from their nature. Why do you think I sent Zak and Cory to hunt? Do you think I want them distracted? Although they’re our friends, we can’t fault them for their instinctive nature. So, I merely helped them along by avoiding this sick life that all predators that Ladorielle species have. They do not categorize whether food is a child or adult when they’re hungry.”
“How can you sit here and talk, as if it’s any other ordinary day? That this is normal. They are not born evil. Those predatory children, although many are bad, can be taught choice. Someone had to teach those children right from wrong.”
“Perhaps if we win this war, those children can be saved. I mean all of them. At any rate, Moyer has each of them accounted for. We take just one of them, and Moyer will know, and we will have blown our cover.”
“This doesn’t make any sense,” I snap, irritated by her attitude.
“Doesn’t it? When Jeff took Stella”—she glances over at the girl—"Moyer fumed for days. It’s one reason Nora was burned at the stake. As it stands now, Moyer is going to quickly catch on that time has been reset, if she hasn’t figured it out already.”
“And yet, Isalora,” I spout, “here we are waiting out a storm.” I look out the window and point. “The snow has stopped pounding away, the clouds are parted, so why are we not leaving right now? Instead, you fill our bellies with food and drink. We should be out there killing all the Shadow Walkers and other predators in sight.”
We hear the rest of the team climb the stairs from the basement and enter the living room. Their voices carry all the way to the loft.
“Did you all settle in?” Isalora calls over the balcony.
I watch as the dwarf twins take off their hats. “Ah, thank you, ma’am,” Dom says. “We came to see what all the yelling was about, to perhaps rescue you from the tirade of Rory. We could hear you all the way from below.”
“Yes, it appears I’ve struck a nerve,” she says, glaring at me with an annoying grin. She turns her attention to the rest of the team. “Please, everyone have a seat. We’ll be right down.”
I’m fuming mad. This isn’t over by a long shot.
Not expecting an answer, I hear a voice that sounds like Isalora say, “I should hope not.”
Chapter 16
Wynter Storm
Present Day:
Ashengale Castle on Dragonsale Island
“Wynter, my child, I see you are lost in thought,” Dragonscale says, bringing me back to focus on the present lessons.
My mind begins to remember again how I’ve come to this fate. My destiny. The history of the past continues to flood my senses.
He shows me how Sarmira has taken possession of Maura Moyer. How her soul is helpless from stopping Sarmira at her ploy to destroy everyone around her.
“The one thing that nobody else can see,” he goes on to say, “is Maura’s heart, and how she feels responsible for all that has transpired. She begs for forgiveness but cannot seem to find a way to ask for it.”
“How can one think that they can have forgiveness for the atrocities they have bestowed on others? She may ask, but how do I forgive, Dragonscale?”
“Because it will harden your heart, child. It’s how hate is invited in, in the first place. You must find a way to forgive, only then will you reach the peace you need to move on and become stronger.”
“I can see her face. Her features are very similar to mine,” I say.
“Yes. Sh
e’s alone on this journey to the path of evil destruction. We had thought Sarmira was finished, but alas, we all were very wrong, indeed,” he states. “Moyer was her intended target for years.”
Rage begins to cloud my mind. “She allowed Sarmira in, and as a result, the tyrant has taken her soul. Why do I not feel sorry for her? I’m angry, Dragonscale.”
“Do not allow the anger to fog your thoughts with false information. Look closer, what else do you see?”
“I can see features. She looks like a woman in her late twenties. It’s as though she’s never aged.” She has emerald eyes—not the black coal irises I’m familiar with. The Moyer I see now inside the cell of her own mind has the face of a woman with stress lines, and eyes sunk into her sockets. I can see the veins through her near translucent skin, but no heart beats within her chest. She sits on a bench in a room. The walls around her are made of stone. It’s a cell block that looks similar to the ones located in the basement of Storm River Manor. The phenomenal thing about my new powers is I can see exactly what she sees, as though I’m inside her core, and she feels trapped and helpless.
“You’re seeing the imprisoned mind of Maura Moyer’s soul,” Dragonscale says. “All she can do now is sit back and watch with torment the pain she has inflicted upon our family and those of others.”
“She looks so pathetic…broken,” I say.
“So then, you can see that she has guilt?”
“If that is what you think it is. I say she has regret, but does she have remorse? How do you forgive someone who has inflicted so much pain? How can I forgive such a wicked monster?”
“Give it time. You have seen the error of her ways. Soon, you will see the error of yours.”
“My errors? I haven’t killed thousands of people, perhaps millions, like she has.”
“One would argue Moyer isn’t of sound mind. If she was, do you think she would have done what she’s done, knowing the outcome? Evil possession has penetrated her soul, and you must also set her free by forgiving her.”
“Forgive her? It’s a mighty tough thing to do. I am not the one she must ask forgiveness from. That is between her and her maker.”
“But it also will harden your heart, child, as I said before. It will cloud the love you might otherwise be able to give to others.”
He shows me flashes of the not too distant past.
“What are you revealing to me now?”
“Shh, watch and you will see,” Dragonscale says.
He shows me lush green grasses and land as far as the eye can see. We arrive at a hillside with a castle setting atop of it, overlooking a valley. It has magnificent towers and a courtyard in the center. Inside one of the halls, I see two boys laughing and a woman counting. The children scatter, seeking a hiding spot. One hides under a dining room table while the other boy goes up some tower steps. Giggling can still be heard after she’s stopped counting. “Here I come,” she says. “I’m going to find you. You cannot hide from me for long.” I’m astounded when I see her face and realize it’s Maura Moyer, my paternal grandmother.
She goes up the towers steps after hearing a noise that sounded like something falling to the ground. She opens the door to find the room filled with trunks and old possessions. A wooden chair is on its side, appearing to have fallen to the floor. As she picks it up, a breeze wisps by. She grabs her arms, as though it brings her a cold chill. “Jeoffrey, are you in here?” she asks. Her face looks worried while searching for the hiding boy. I can see her thoughts and hear what she hears. They tell me she knows he’s here; she’s heard his footsteps from below. Her other child doesn’t have the same stride. Besides, every time they play this silly game, she finds him somewhere in this room. “Jeoffrey, you know the rules, son, this room is off limits. The game is over, please come out. I give you a free pass to go hide again someplace else.” I can feel what Moyer feels, and it’s a sense of dread, danger.
I see the boy hiding behind a large old chest. Still thinking it’s a game, he covers his mouth, trying with all his might to be quiet.
The wind from outside passes through an open window of the tower attic, and a white sheet drops to the floor, revealing a large mirror. I can see the image standing on the other side of the frame. “Is that who I think it is?” I ask.
Dragonscale nods. “Keep watching.”
I can hear the temptations of evil call to my grandmother, Maura. Its whispers are loud, as she moves towards the object.
“Can she see what we see? I mean, that ‘thing’ in the reflection?”
“You are seeing through her eyes, much the way Cory sees through yours.”
“So, can Cory see what I’m seeing now?”
“No, I have blocked his thoughts. He cannot see to Ashengale. Now, watch, my child. Learn. You must see the history of what has transpired before forgoing your trials.”
“Maura…” the mirror calls again, drawing my grandmother’s attention away from finding the boy. Beautiful black hair flows down her back in long locks, waving in the breeze from the open window. She appears transfixed, staring at her reflection, as though admiring herself. The vision I receive through Moyer’s mind is a wraith on the other side of the glass, with a black gown that flows down it’s ghostly body, stopping a couple inches from the floor. It holds a scythe in one hand while in the other is a crystal globe. There isn’t a face visible in the darkness behind the cowl. It seeks her soul as it admires her, pulling her inward for possession. Maura Moyer stares back at the same wraith I saw in my dream the day it came to attack the Storm family.
“So, this is how Sarmira possessed Maura?”
“Yes,” Dragonscale confesses. “The mirror was supposed to be destroyed years ago, when it attempted to take her as a child. Her mother came in her room in time to see the evil about to be bestowed upon Maura and protected her daughter from fate that day.”
“Maura…come to me,” the wicked voice murmurs. The eerie sound sends chills up my spine, as I watch what unfolds. This time, Maura doesn’t have her mother to break the spell that cleverly held her eyes fixated to the glass as a little girl. My father watches, as he peeks around the trunk, not knowing the danger his mother is in. He stays quiet, hiding, thinking they are still playing this silly game.
“No wonder my father never told anyone this secret. He blames himself for the curse, doesn’t he?”
Dragonscale says, “Your father holds so much guilt, even though he isn’t responsible for what happened that day. Focus on the now, my child, not that past. Now, you know why Jeoffrey is the way he is with you. He knows if Sarmira had the chance—"
“This is what Sarmira was planning, wasn’t it? Using Moyer to take my soul once she had the opportunity—not just my power?”
“Yes. The necklace protected you from that. It still protects you.”
“And so, she knows I’m a Deagon; therefore, she knows what my power truly holds?”
“Yes. Can you imagine what will happen to Ashengale if she takes possession of your soul? We must finish your trials. Only then will you be strong enough to resist her dark magic.”
Flashes of the not too distant past come to the forefront, again. Like in the vision I had at Storm River Manor, when Isalora came to me in a dream showing me the past. The images focus, and I see the land of Ladorielle with lush hills and deep valleys. “What is this you’re showing me now?”
It’s a land I’ve never seen before. Down in a meadow near the Storm Castle, animals graze and people are tending a field. It’s there I see a quaint Chalet nestling near a river.
“This is a countryside that is in desperate need of a strong ruler,” he says. He shows me the war, and the life that has been taken. The souls that have been possessed, and the souls that have made it to the light.
Stunned from the visions, I say, “She would have destroyed this kingdom. But you can see the past, future, and present. You know how this ends. Why do you not show me that?”
“As I’ve explained before, I know every po
ssible outcome, true,” he says, “but making the right choices will change your destiny. Making the wrong ones will set your fate. This is how I know. In time, perhaps, you will, too, but for now, we must focus on what lies ahead—defeating Sarmira and freeing Moyer from possession. Besides, free will can change.”
“How can we help her?” This new-found information gives me mixed feelings.
“Maura?” he asks. “By following through with what destiny has bestowed upon you.”
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