The Keeper's Legacy: A Chosen Novel (The Keepers Book 1)

by Meg Anne

  “Effie . . . Effie, stop. You’re safe.”

  Effie flailed, her thrashing arms and legs smacking against something warm and hard in an attempt to escape the monsters from her vision.

  “Ouch! I said stop, damn you,” a deep voice growled in her ear as her arms were yanked down and pinned to the ground.

  “No,” she wailed, her voice nearly gone from screaming.

  Eyes flying open, Effie’s body went still. She wasn’t being eaten by a corpse or drowning in a sea of blood. She was lying on the ground with Lucian scowling down at her.

  Mouth dry, Effie licked her lips and swallowed. “You can, um, let me go now.”

  He released her and pushed back, sitting beside her on the ground. “Care to explain what that was?”

  “A vision, I think. I’ve never had one where I was part of it before,” she murmured, wincing as she sat up. Her head ached like she’d been beaten. Noticing the smear of red beside her, she gingerly touched her forehead.

  “You smacked it when you fell.”

  She nodded. It wasn’t the only place that hurt. Her knees and ribcage also felt bruised. When the vision claimed her, it was instantaneous. She hadn’t even had a chance to brace herself before it overtook her.

  “And Keepers do not have visions about themselves,” Lucian informed her, his dark eyes guarded.

  She narrowed hers on his face. “Then explain to me why I was being chased by a river of blood and attacked by a sea of corpses.”

  His expression didn’t change. “Were you experiencing these acts as a participant? Or as a witness?”

  “A participant, I guess,” she croaked.

  Lucian nodded, his right hand dropping to untie something at his belt before he held out his hip flask for her to take.

  She accepted it greedily, chugging back the cool liquid until the flask was empty.

  “Sorry,” she murmured, handing the flask back to him.

  He shrugged and retied it to his belt.

  “Why does it matter if I was a participant or a witness?” she asked, returning to his question.

  He flattened his lips, looking over her shoulder as if weighing whether or not he was going to answer. “You should ask your tutor.”

  “I’m asking you.”

  “Keepers are witnesses. Witnesses to the future and all its various possibilities. However, they are blind to their own future, as to know would influence important decisions. Therefore, when a Keeper has a vision, it is never of themselves. Not directly. You were affected by the elements of your vision, but not the main subject. There’s a difference.”

  Effie stared at him, frowning. “You mean to tell me that no Keeper in the history of all Keepers has ever witnessed a vision about themselves personally?”

  “Never.”

  “So, the blood and the drowning and the cannibal corpses, those had nothing to do with me?”

  Lucian’s lips twitched. “No.”

  Effie huffed. “Elder’s sagging sack.”

  Her Guardian raised a brow. “Come again?”

  She peeked over at him and grinned. “I stole it from Kieran. Has a nice ring to it, huh?”

  Lucian shook his head. “Speaking of your tutor, he really is the one you should be speaking to about deciphering your visions.”

  “Why does it matter who helps me?” she asked.

  “It’s his job.”

  “And? You’re here, he’s not.”

  “So, I’m the only one you expect to do the job they were assigned?” he challenged, peering down at her.

  “No, but . . .” she sighed. “Never mind. Why are you still here, anyway? I thought you were in a rush to go on your special mission.”

  “How about you just say thank you and be glad that I am?”

  The terror of her vision still simmered within her, and Effie realized that she was glad he’d been there. He’d distracted her from the vision itself and helped her from being completely lost to it.

  “Thank you,” she murmured.

  “You’re welcome.”

  They were sitting beside each other, their backs pressed against the wall. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Lucian’s legs were sprawled out, easily filling the distance between the walls. She felt tiny beside him but was no longer threatened by his size. He’d come to her rescue often enough that she knew she was safe with him. Perhaps that’s why she found it so easy to mouth off around him.

  Resting her cheek on her arms, she looked up at his face. “So, if the vision wasn’t about me, and I didn’t recognize anyone else in it, how do I know who it was about?”

  “Effie,” he growled her name in warning.

  “You might as well talk me through it, Lucian. You clearly know more about these visions than I do.”

  “I can’t say. It was your vision. Which means your subconscious chooses the images. You’re the only one that can decide what it means.”

  Effie frowned.

  With a sigh, Lucian tilted his head back and stared up at the ceiling. “If I were you, I would concentrate on what each element made you feel. The feelings should lead you to the real-life counterparts.”

  “I was terrified and dying, Lucian. That doesn’t really help me narrow it down.”

  “You weren’t dying, you were drowning. At no point did you actually die. Did you?” he asked, twisting his head to look down at her.

  “Not unless you count the part where the corpse came to life and ate me.”

  Lucian stopped her with a hand. “Maybe you should back up and start at the beginning.”

  For once, Effie was eager to share the vision, to purge herself of some of the fear lingering inside of her. If anyone could handle her monsters, real or metaphorical, Lucian could.

  Starting from the beginning, Effie told him what she’d Seen. The metallic flecks in his eyes were glowing by the time she’d finished.

  “Out of all of the things that you just told me, which words stand out the most when you think about your vision?”

  Effie let her eyes fall closed as she pictured it.

  “The blood, the bodies, the shadows . . .” she trailed off as her eyes flew back open. She stared at him, horror and excitement making her already strained voice breathless. “It wasn’t a sea of shadows, Lucian. It was a sea of Shadows. They were the reanimated bodies that were trying to attack and why there was so much blood.”

  She shuddered at the memory of the Shadows, the mindless and grotesque creatures that the Corruptor Rowena had created in an attempt to retake Helena’s throne. If she was having premonitions about them, then the message was definitely tied to the war that continued to rage in the world outside of the citadel. The war she was supposed to be helping Helena end.

  He smiled at her, but it was grim. “It sounds like you’ve found your answers, Keeper.”

  “Mmm,” she hummed, not sure if it was an answer, but it was certainly a path. One she needed to follow until it led her to the truth it concealed. “I wish I could remember what they said at the end.”

  “That reminds me,” Lucian said, shifting to dig something out of the pack that was on the floor beside him. “I have something for you.”

  He held out a small leather-bound journal, a thick cord wrapped around its cover. Flowers in all states of bloom had been tooled into its tanned surface, and it didn’t take more than a passing glance to tell it was a true work of art.

  “We’ve been chatting for the better part of an hour and you just now remember?” she teased even as her heart gave a little lurch. The only other person who’d ever taken the time to give her a present had been her grandmother.

  Lucian rolled his eyes. “If someone wouldn’t have insisted on being such a brat this morning, you might have gotten it earlier.”

  Effie caressed the top of the supple leather longingly before pushing the journal back at him. “Lucian, it’s stunning . . . but I-I can’t possibly accept such an expensive gift.”

  His face, which h
ad only just lost some of its glower, scowled at her. “It’s not a gift. It’s a Keeper’s journal. Your journal. Take it, fledgling.”

  Only a second ago I was Keeper. Now I’m fledgling again.

  Wordlessly, she took the book out of his hand before unwinding the leather string holding it closed and letting it fall open in her lap. Its cream pages were uneven along the edges and made out of expensive parchment, and the inside of the cover was the softest suede. She’d never owned anything so fine in her life.

  “Thank you,” she mumbled, still stunned by the generosity of the gift.

  Standing, Lucian held out a hand to help her up. “You should probably write your vision down before you forget it. That’s what the journal is for, after all. If you have any others before your next lesson with Kieran, make sure you add it in as well.” With a sigh, Lucian glanced down the hall. “I don’t have time to take you to meet Kael. I need to get going if I hope to make it before dark. I’ll send him to you. Try not to get yourself killed while I’m gone.”

  Effie stuck out her tongue and Lucian shook his head, turning away and leaving her without another word. She stared after him, unsettled by his quicksilver moods. He went from intolerable brute to concerned friend in less than a heartbeat. The first she could handle, the latter . . . not so much.

  It took longer than she’d care to admit before Effie felt steady enough to make the unaccompanied journey back to her room. The fall she’d taken at the onset of her vision had done a number on her, and the arm that had finally stopped aching yesterday was starting to throb.

  Head pounding, Effie let the journal fall open on her desk. Her fingers trailed over the blank pages as unexpected wistfulness filled her. Another time, another place, this journal could have been a beautiful and thoughtful gift from a man who might one day be more than just a friend. But as Lucian reminded her, it was not a gift. It was a Keeper’s journal. A tool to be used to fulfill her purpose.

  Separated as she was from the rest of the world, it was easy to forget what was happening out there. She’d let herself become distracted. Distracted by her grief, by her aversion to the horror contained within her visions, by the men that surrounded her. But the time for that was over.

  It had to be.

  They were in the middle of a war. One they could so easily lose. How could she waste time thinking about silly things like a man who wanted to pursue her, or one whose intense gazes made her stomach twist in knots? People were counting on her. There was a chance her visions could contain the answers that would save them.

  She owed it to them—to herself—to not lose focus. She couldn’t afford to be selfish. Not until Helena defeated the Corruptor once and for all. Lucian wasn’t the only one with a job to do. Which meant there was no room for distraction. Not a green-eyed one, and definitely not one with eyes flecked with bronze.

  With a groan, Effie eased herself into a chair and began recounting her vision for the second time that morning. Already the details were starting to fade, and she understood the importance of the journal. From now on, the book would accompany her wherever she went. It was as vital a tool as her dagger, and potentially just as useful.

  Words could be weapons as powerful as those forged from metal. Stronger even, if they became the clues that would reveal how to defeat their enemies. Effie only hoped that when the time came, she would not miss their signal.

  Chapter 18

  “You should have come to me immediately,” Kieran insisted, his arms folded across his chest.

  Effie rubbed her temples, the headache from her vision lingering even though it had been over ten hours since it claimed her.

  “It’s not like I have any say over when they come to me, Kieran. Besides, Lucian was there, so what’s the difference?”

  At the mention of her Guardian’s name, Kieran’s eyes darkened and his upper lip curled in a snarl. “As if a Guardian knows anything about dealing with prophecy.”

  Irritation flared to life at his misplaced indignation. After several lifetimes of working beside and for the Triumvirate, he likely knows more than you.

  She leveled him with a glare. “He knew enough to give me my Keeper’s journal.”

  “He what?” Kieran asked, his voice dropping to just above a whisper.

  Effie pulled the book out of the small pack she’d tied around her hips. “He talked to me about the importance of writing down my visions so that I could go over them with you.”

  Kieran looked slightly mollified. “It still wasn’t his place,” he muttered, taking a seat at the small desk.

  Effie threw up her hands in exasperation. “Are we going to waste more time debating the point, or can we get to the deciphering of visions part of the lesson?”

  He waved a hand. “By all means.”

  “Finally.”

  Flipping to the first page, which was now underlined and had circles around or arrows connecting the words or elements she felt were most important, Effie described what she had Seen.

  “And you think that your vision was in reference to the Shadow army?” Kieran summarized once she was finished.

  Effie nodded. “Unless you know of any other bloodthirsty cannibals currently wandering the realm?”

  “Take it from me, Effie. Time has no relevance when it comes to prophecy. You can See things that will not come to be for centuries. A person could lose a lifetime waiting for them to come to pass.”

  His eyes were glowing with an intensity she was starting to recognize. He always had that particular gleam in his eye when he was referring to his dreams of her.

  “This didn’t feel like some distant unknown future. There was an immediacy to it,” she insisted, focusing on the feelings of terror that had her trying to flee the cave in the first place. “And it didn’t feel like a particular event as much as a warning. Something’s coming . . .”

  Kieran didn’t seem moved by her revelation. “Something’s always coming.”

  Frustration simmered within her. His dismissal felt oddly familiar, and not in a comforting way. When were people going to start taking her seriously? Maybe once you do . . .

  “I don’t know when, and I don’t know where, but the Shadows are coming, and soon.”

  Kieran studied her, leaning back in his chair as he stared into her eyes. Effie tried not to squirm under the scrutiny, and she sat on her hands to keep from pulling her hair over her face. Her curls had always been a shield she could hide behind, a physical barrier she could place between herself and those that judged—or pitied—her.

  “Let us assume that your interpretation is correct. You’ve just said yourself you cannot identify any details that would allude to a certain place or time. What then do you suggest we do with the information?”

  “Tell the Triumvirate? Let them weigh the information against what they already know is coming, or perhaps what is stored in the Hall.”

  A smile ghosted across her tutor’s face. “A common assumption, but a Keeper cannot go running to them every time they have a vision. The Triumvirate would never get anything done.”

  Effie was thankful she still sat on her hands. Her palm itched to slap the smile off his face. Why ask her what she thought if he was just going to laugh at her answer? Even if he had a point.

  “So, when do we bring our visions to their attention?” she asked, her voice brittle with the effort it required to keep her frustration from leaking through.

  “When they ask.”

  “That seems irresponsible, not to mention dangerous. What if we miss something because they waited too long to ask?”

  Kieran shrugged. “One has to assume that they know what they are doing. They do have access to centuries worth of warnings.”

  “You just ridiculed me for such an assumption. At the end of the day, they are still men. Men can make mistakes.”

  “Are they?” Kieran asked with a lift of his brow. “Now that’s an interesting thought.”

  Effie sighed. This conversation was not nearly as help
ful as the one she’d had with Lucian in the hall. Once again, she was left wondering why in the Mother’s name Smoke and the Mirrors had insisted on placing her under Kieran’s tutelage.

  “I’m not purposely trying to irritate you,” Kieran said softly, placing a warm hand on her knee. “You’ve done an exceptional job fleshing out the symbols hidden within your vision, but you are still learning. If your path is similar to the rest of the Keepers, then you will likely experience the same vision multiple times, each new occurrence revealing new details. Those details could change the course of your interpretation entirely. We must wait until we can know for sure that you have drawn the correct conclusion.”

  She sat back in her chair with a humph. “This is another reason you induce visions, isn’t it? So that you don’t have to wait around for the lightning to strike on its own.”

  Kieran nodded.

  “So, what are you waiting for?”

  “We do not use the halus bane on the same day as a natural vision.”

  “Who makes up these ridiculous rules?”

  His head tilted to the side. “Even you must admit that you’re in no condition to experience another vision so soon.”

  Effie’s eyes dropped to the floor. She was running off of pure adrenaline right now. Another vision could render her completely useless. Head and body aches were not the sort of thing one summoned a healer for. Their gift was too valuable to be used on something so minor.

  “But if it could help . . .” she started.

  Kieran shook his head. “No, Effie. Nothing is so crucial that I would put your health at risk. I know that it is easy to believe each one of your visions is vitally important, but I promise you, with time you will come to learn that they are not. We will not rush this. Not after what happened last time. Trust me.”

  He sounded so sure, but the need to be useful—to prove herself—warred within her.

  “Think of it this way,” he said, standing and holding out a hand to her, “you get the rest of the evening off. How would you like to spend it?”

  Effie placed her hand in his and allowed him to pull her to her feet. She had no answer for him.