The Lost Heir

by Allison Whitmore

  Seth looked at her, bewildered, then shrugged his shoulders and stepped forward. Isabella followed behind him.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Magic

  Isabella, enveloped in the cocoon of her four friends, walked down the main corridor of the Sage Temple. Seth laced his fingers through hers with an apology she accepted with a small smile—for now. Micah, to her surprise, took her other hand. Cleo and Xander sighed with relief in unison.

  A woman with a long, flowing red dress and dangling silver earrings led them to a small stairwell. "Wind up the steps and then march through the galleries. You will find the Divinato when you reach the end. Be humble, and do not push ahead of others if they have not yet gone through. You may enter in groups of four, five, or six."

  The stairwell was dark—so dark that one could hardly see. They filed into a line and held one another's shoulders as if walking through the recesses of a haunted abbey.

  "This just gets weirder and weirder," Seth whispered. Cleo rolled her eyes.

  "I wish I could shoot this," Xander complained as they stepped into the first gallery; he held tight to his sister. Shadows were parted by rare beams of cloudy light; they encircled delicate paintings that depicted both smiling and screaming faces in harmonious, hallowed settings.

  "No filming of any kind!" a man shouted, though they could not see from whence his voice emanated.

  "Not like I have a camera anymore, anyway," grumbled Xander.

  "Remain silent, young empaths, and await your summons," a woman's voice said, floating above them as they walked. Through gallery after gallery they went, as if the line of them would never end. They walked for only fifteen minutes, but it seemed to them like an hour.

  As they continued through the galleries, Isabella fell deep into thought. Pythian. The orb he gave her. Diadems. The vault. Colin. And Jack... What were they going to do about Jack? He wasn't just a figure in the night anymore.

  Finally, Isabella and her cohort were escorted through two large gold-encrusted doors.

  I need to speak to you, diadem, she heard just as the doors closed behind her. She looked around to see who was addressing her, but all she saw were eight sages seated alongside one another in high-back, white-gold-rimmed thrones, as if perched high upon Mount Olympus, focused on the four people who stood before them, still being advised. I need to speak with you now.

  Still, no one around her seemed to be addressing her directly. Who was that? Maybe it was in her mind. She waited for another second but did not hear anything further.

  Before she could ponder it, a small woman in a blue dress approached Isabella and her friends and asked them to remain behind the small rope at the back of the vast room that was nearly as large as half a football field.

  The Divinato were as powerfully present and strange as Isabella had imagined they would be. At the center sat an old man with copper-brown skin and a heavy white beard twisted into a knot. An equally old woman with wild gray curls sat to his right in a flowing violet cloak. Another, with red-hair spirals that hung heavy to her waist and who looked surprisingly young, sat on his left.

  Two small men, perhaps a few inches taller than a dwarf, sat side by side. "Twins," Cleo said, smiling. "Identical."

  A very large man with a lion-colored mane sat beside the twins; he wore a cloak that looked like a hide of some kind. And on the other side sat three women who looked like sisters: one with purple hair, another with black, and the final with silver. Each had sweet, round cheeks and sparkling opal eyes.

  "That middle girl there is the sage I met with," Xander said. "She said she was eighty-seven years old, but yeah right. She looks thirty, maybe."

  "I don't think the sages have normal lifespans like other empaths," whispered Cleo. "I met with the one next to her. I guess they are all the sages-in-residence right now. They must be the youngest."

  Isabella paused and frowned at the others as they continued to whisper to one another.

  Isabella, the voice spoke to her again.

  Isabella remembered what Mimi had taught her about not speaking aloud when she heard such things in her head. Who are you?

  But then a real man stepped from behind the chief sage. “Welcome, my child," he said aloud. He wore a long, brown robe. Her friends continued to chatter in heavy whispers as their group was led before the Divinato; Isabella moved with them but kept her focus on the brown-robed man.

  She vaguely heard Seth ask a heated question of the group. Cleo's voice faintly mentioned something about her family and not seeing them over the holiday and how unlike them that was. Then the man in the cloak descended the stairs in front of the Divinato and glided across the floor, as if floating across a quiet river.

  "So long have we waited for this moment to arrive." He moved close to Isabella as if no one else was in the room. "We need you now more than ever," he explained.

  "Are you a sage?"

  "I have been a sage. I have been many things in my lifetime."

  "Were you the one I heard speaking to me outside? Are you the one who got them to let me in?"

  "We don't choose those who are chosen. Only you do."

  "What does that mean?"

  "Only that you are the one. Finally. Finally."

  "The one what?"

  "We cannot let the darkness shut out the light."

  "Another riddle?" Isabella became frustrated as the sage stepped closer. The closer he got, the less Isabella heard her surroundings, her friends.

  "My child, a great power has been bestowed upon you. The time has come now. Take heed in protection, for you are in the middle of war."

  "A war? What are you talking about?"

  "Tide, bind. Light, strike. / We live and hail upon the night. / Retribution brings on strife, / Those opposing the one true light. / We, united, standing true, /Time will come, our rights will be due. / Fallen stars, fire rise. / Fallen stars, full of pride."

  Isabella stared at him and then felt as if she might drop to the floor. Fear encased her heart as haunting yet angelic voices filled the air, speaking in a dull, monotone chant.

  "Tide, bind. Light, strike. / We live and rise upon the day. / Retribution, bring on strife, / Those opposing the one true light. / We, united, standing true, /Time will come, our rights will be due. / Seer's light, water rise. / Seer's light, full of pride."

  Isabella's blood chilled, and her body stiffened. The man's image melted into a sliver of nothingness. Then, before Isabella could blink twice, an image appeared before her of a woman in an ocean-blue gown that rippled like a wave over a wild sea. She had a kind, ageless face that seemed to reflect the depths of the earth and the promise of the sea. She stood statelier than the average woman, not just in stature but in overall presence.

  "Are you another sage?"

  "Yes, my dear. In a way that not even your Divinato can fully understand. You will not see me after a moment, if you do not do what has been born of you."

  "What's the seer's light the man was singing about?"

  "It is the equilibrium to the Fire of the Fallen Star. An imbalance has disrupted the universe and needs to be restored upon this world. Many sacrifices were made, and many more will come. A double-edged sword is pointing to the light and to the dark. Death one day must come to pass," she said cryptically.

  "Death? Whose death?"

  Tears fell as the woman extended her hand toward Isabella, who looked down and noticed that the lady's skin looked different. It was the color of earth and sand, yet there was something more to it, as if it was not of this world.

  The sage dropped something cold into Isabella's cupped hand. The object had the opposite effect: It warmed her palm rather than cool it and reminded her of connecting with Seth in the Light Council room, when his warmth cooled her just when she needed it. Then the object buzzed in a very familiar way.

  “My necklace!" whispered Isabella. She clutched the Fox seal on the gold object.

  "Yes. You lost it and hardly noticed because, down here, your
empath powers are strong, but sky-side you will need to hold tight to it.”

  "Isabella Foxworthy,” bellowed a different, louder voice, bringing her back to reality. It was one of the sages speaking to her.

  Peace enveloped her, and the woman faded. Tiredness overtook Isabella's body.

  Connect to the ones you're bound to by believing in each other. It will bring you peace and power, she heard, though no one stood before her any longer.

  “Izzy!”

  Cleo's voice was like a slap across her face. She felt the group around her as she opened her eyes and saw the magnificence of the Temple's ceiling.

  The vaulted dome was painted with a beautiful goddess in a white-and-azure dress, floating in the middle of the ocean. Storms formed around her body painted in many shades of blue, purple, and green. Her rich brown hands extended out toward the heavens, but her eyes looked to the ground. Light shone from her eyes. It was the woman Isabella had just seen.

  "Perfect," Isabella whispered. She rubbed her eyes with her forearm. She was still going crazy. "I thought I'd gotten over that." Then Cleo pulled her up. No, it was real.

  Isabella shook her head as she looked around the room, trying to understand what had just happened while her friends looked on. She blinked, and suddenly she was no longer in the vast room with her friends but was back in the front corridor of the building.

  "Where is everyone?" she asked as one of the thick-armed guards with whom Seth had argued at the door shot her a fiery glare.

  "The Divinato connected your crystal to you,” said Cleo, “but you didn't ask them anything after that, so I just pulled you out of there." Isabella’s other friends rushed up and guided her outside quickly.

  "They said some cool stuff, yeah," insisted Micah, fending off the guard's curiosity.

  "Off the stairs, brats!" the tomato-faced guard ordered. Cleo sighed and the boys bickered as they were escorted outside.

  Isabella glanced up and noticed that the sky looked different. It was still blue, but in one particular spot, it almost appeared as if someone had drained all its saturation. Probably nothing serious, she thought.

  Isabella pulled her necklace from her pocket and started to twirl it in her hand.

  "I thought you lost that," said Cleo.

  "That woman in there just gave it back to me. I have no idea how or where she got it. I lost it at the studio, I thought."

  "That's freaky. You just went all funny in there. You okay?" asked Micah as Isabella lifted up her hair to allow Cleo to pin on her necklace. She felt Seth's eyes on her but did not look his way.

  "Who gave it to you?" she heard him ask. He stepped closer and lifted it up with his fingers.

  Isabella cleared her throat. "There was this other sage woman." She pulled her hair down and looked at him. "She had a crazy blue dress and was talking to me." Seth looked confused. "I think she was communicating with me mentally. She was helping to guide us and said, just like I thought, our first goal needs to be the Fire. Preserving and restoring it will fix everything else. I just felt it when she spoke to me." She paused to look at her friends.

  "Well, we didn't see anybody," said Xander.

  Isabella looked to Micah. He was sensitive, a detail guy with a connection to Jack. Maybe he'd seen her? He shrugged, shaking his head. "Sorry, Izzy."

  "I figured I was the only one who could see her, anyway."

  Isabella noticed Seth's eyes, intently focused on her. He smiled—was he letting her know that he believed her? For a brief second, she smiled as he walked on ahead. She didn't know what had happened between him and Johnna, really. Maybe she should ask him. Maybe she should just let it go. It wasn't as if they were together. But for some reason, she had felt, just for these few days, that he was hers.

  "We gotta go now," a faint voice whispered aloud to Isabella as she followed behind the others. Mimi flew into sight and then quickly disappeared into the distance. The air grew uneasy, suddenly silent. Isabella's body tingled faintly. Death was certainly in the air. She’d felt it on the night her parents died, and she felt it again right then. She tried to move through the haze, and then Mimi caught back up to them, snapping her out of the sensation.

  "Sorry I had to leave you guys—I wanted to check with Theophilus,” Mimi said. “He's waiting for you."

  "Good," said Seth as Colin appeared, seemingly out of breath.

  "Everything okay?" Isabella asked.

  "Yep. All secure,” he replied. “Haven't seen a sign of anything odd around the building. So, you got what you need?"

  "Crystal all sealed, and I got my necklace back. Do you have any idea how—?"

  "Don't question the things that happen with the Divinato. They'll never make sense,” said Colin quickly.

  The image of the woman who’d come to her played in her mind as she followed the group toward Celluloid Alley. Death may have been imminent, but she felt powerful against it, like she could do anything.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  The Black Underground

  As Isabella and her friends moved down the Avenue, she spotted a group of people gathering around a stage. On it, two men were facing each other. Isabella’s eyes locked onto them as the crowd thickened around the spectacle.

  “That’s the Challenge of the Well!” a voice boomed. “The two contestants will have to answer three puzzles, or they will lose their seal and be banished to sky-side forever!” Isabella thought that might be a horrible fate for someone who had lived in the Underground for their entire lives. “The winner will have a chance to meet with the Great Sage and with our creator, Joseph Gaut.” Isabella stopped stark still. She wanted to meet the creator of this world. Was it actually possible? As she turned her attention turned to the stage, she tried to connect to her cohort so they could stop and join her, but a drunken couple cackled behind her and threw her off balance. When she looked up, her group was too far ahead. She rushed to catch up to Theophilus, who followed close behind her friends down the Avenue along with the heavy crowd.

  This was it—The Wintertide Festival. When she looked up, another drunkard called out to the couple and knocked her into a spin in the opposite direction she'd been walking. She turned back around and realized she could no longer see the others. Then she heard a loud clap on the other side of the alley.

  On guard, she stopped and turned to face the spectacle. There was a large crowd and, in the distance, the familiar lights of the illusionist in the middle of a show. “Behold!” she heard him cry just as he'd done the day she and Seth had first seen him. Izzy breathed a sigh of relief and turned to catch up to her friends.

  No. Stop it! Help!

  A pain twisted in her gut. It wasn't her pain. It was someone else's. That hadn't happened down here at all before. Pythian?

  Isabella continued forward, but the voice grew louder in her mind.

  That hurts!

  Mimi. On instinct, Isabella sprinted toward the fear that permeated her own gut over near the illusionist's performance.

  He hovered slightly off the ground, a crowd in a semi-circle around him creating the perfect stage for his show. Before him floated a shimmering silvery-blackish cage; inside it was a little black cat wearing a top hat. Mimi. It was her. She'd transformed into her favorite figure again: the little black cat. How had she gotten captured so quickly?

  Mimi was screeching for help and begging, but the people around her simply cheered and laughed without a care. Isabella grabbed her necklace to calm her down. The spectacle before her made her angry.

  The illusionist laughed as he poked another energy through the cage. Mimi gasped and started to morph into a bird. “See this filthy, disgusting little monster and watch as it struggles to get out of our emphatic power cage!”

  The audience laughed harder and harder, as if Mimi was some sort of a clown who enjoyed this obvious torture. Her powers were being seized by the illusionist's weaving.

  How could empaths be so cruel? It was as though they were ignoring Mimi's feelings and beco
ming more and more apathetic while watching Mimi struggle. Isabella had surmised that morphlings were second-class citizens in the Underground, but this seemed like something different, something bizarrely out of control.

  Whatever the case may be, Isabella couldn't take it anymore. She closed her eyes and shouted, “STOP IT!”

  Then, time suddenly seemed to slow, just as it had on decorating day in the hotel lobby when Isabella had done something beyond her imagination for the very first time. Warmth buzzed from her necklace.

  Izzy! Free me! Isabella thought all eyes were looking at her, but all she heard was Mimi's voice.

  Mimi? Are you okay? The empaths couldn't hear her. They continued to move but slowly, nearly frozen but not.

  I will be, once you free me. You only have fifteen seconds! She was between cat and bird and not at all human.

  But how? Isabella pled.

  Remember how you raised the fire from your hands? Break me free using it. Put the power around the cage. They aren't real bars—they’re shields made of magic. Your fire can break them down.

  What if I hurt you? Isabella asked fearfully. I can't.

  You can do it, Izzy. I can tell you have control better than me. Oh, I know! Remember your capoeira? It's all about balance, focus, timing, right? You're so good at it because you've always known how to do it. Just like you did that night. Theophilus told me. Izzy, hurry! Mimi cried.

  Isabella thought of when she’d first met the illusionist. He'd said to think of something happy but sad at the same time. She remembered the feeling of the Wintertide dinner and eating Betty's chowder after longing for it for so many days, and then the distressed but somehow happy Christmas with her new friends at the hotel. The laughter and fun yet the fear of what would come next, of her broken home, possibly shattered even further. Then she saw Seth standing in front of her, hands touching hers, promising not to leave her before flames erupted in her mind from the night that Jack murdered her parents.

  She opened her palms; fire burned from them. She smiled and sprinted forward toward Mimi. Having finished her painful transformation into a bird against her own will, Mimi nodded her little head toward Isabella. Isabella straightened herself and blasted the fire toward the cage. The shimmering bars shattered and time started back again as Mimi soared through the sky. The crowd cheered for Mimi's escape, maybe assuming the illusionist had done it on purpose.