by C J Benjamin
“Sort of,” I replied finally. “It was more than a vision though . . . it was an encounter.”
“An encounter? With whom?” Jaka asked, arching his eyebrows.
“My mother.”
Jaka, who was almost always in control of his emotions, stifled a gasp.
“Deus! It cannot be true,” he muttered mostly to himself as he stared at me with new intrigue. “Ponte deorum.”
Once he uttered the words, they felt true. I had dreaded that Eja was right the whole time, yet somehow still held a glimmer of hope that he’d been mistaken in naming me the Bridge of the Gods—used to connect the living world with the dead. But when the chief said the words aloud, it made them feel real, squashing all delusions of hope.
I rushed through the events of last night, filling Jaka and my friends in on where I’d seen my mother, and how I’d tried to tell Jemma. I skipped over the part about finding my backstabbing sister hitting on the love of my life. I jumped ahead to where Eja intercepted me and we went back to find my mother, but she’d vanished. I gave them a brief recap of the other times I’d seen my mother, just like I’d told Eja and Remi last night. Finally, rounding it all out, with how Eja had deduced that I was the Ponte deorum and now we needed to figure out how to protect me from becoming the most sought after tool in the universe.
“Did I miss anything?” I asked, looking at Eja and Remi.
They both shook their heads. I looked from them, to the pale, shocked faces of my friends. They were completely silent. I could feel their worry for my safety, along with a hopefulness and shame that I soon recognized with dread. Each of my friends had lost their families; parents, siblings, friends. Each of them realized that I could connect them to their lost loved ones, yet they knew they couldn’t and shouldn’t ask me to, because of how dangerous using that kind of dark magic was.
I was crestfallen and felt like I was suffocating from the sorrow that filled the tent. I looked to Jaka for some sign as to whether we were meant to continue sitting in the stuffy shelter or if he would excuse us so he could think on the matter. Hoping for the latter, I was disappointed to see him motion to his scouts to fetch something for him.
“So you’re convinced that I am this Ponte deorum then?” I asked, while impatiently waiting for Jaka to say something.
He slowly nodded.
“Is there any way to stop it? Or get rid of it?” I asked.
He looked lost in thought and didn’t respond.
“I don’t want this power. It’s too much! And why didn’t we already know about it? I don’t remember reading anything about it in the Book of Secrets.”
“That’s because it’s not in the Book of Secrets my Eva. I’m afraid it is somewhere much worse, the Book of Gods. All the pieces are fitting together now. I believe this is why the Ravinori are hunting for you and perhaps how they are connecting to you.” He paused, looking deeply saddened. “You should have shared the encounters you had with your mother with us earlier.”
“I didn’t know they were important,” I whispered.
“Sharing information with those who are fighting to help you, is always important. You mustn’t keep secrets from your allies, Geneva. I know you might think some things aren’t important or that by keeping information from us you are sparing us, but it is just the opposite. Secrets are scars we wear on our souls. They hold us back from progress and can even damage us beyond repair. After hearing this new information, it is even more imperative that you share your powers with Jemma. The sooner the better. It’s a miracle you are still standing with that amount of power coursing through you.”
I swallowed hard. Even though Jaka’s voice was soft, his words fell sharply upon me. I felt ashamed and foolish. I had told myself all of those things. That I didn’t need to share my thoughts or feelings, that I could keep my time with my mother to myself, that I could carry some burdens on my own to spare my friends, that I didn’t need to share my powers with Jemma—I could handle it. But deep down, I’d known all along that keeping such secrets was selfish and wrong. Perhaps becoming the Bridge of the Gods was my punishment for my deceitful ways.
“If I told you earlier, could you have stopped it? The Ponte deorum, I mean?” I asked the chief.
“No. Do not dwell on the past, my Eva. What’s done is done. Perhaps it was meant to be. You are who you are and nothing can change that. But I believe that in war, it is good to know as much as we can about ourselves and our enemies, so that we can be better prepared for what we are up against.”
War? I gulped, repeating the ominous word to myself. Just then, one of Jaka’s scouts returned carrying a large dusty book. I recognized him under his face paint. It was Talon, and when I caught his eye, he looked saddened. The usual, mischievous lightness in his eyes was missing. Instead his jaw was set and his shoulders rigid and square. His whole demeanor put me on edge even more than I already was.
“Ah, thank you,” Jaka said, taking the leather bound manuscript.
Eja let out a tiny gasp of awe.
“What is that?” I whispered to Eja, while we all intently watched the chief flip slowly through the delicate pages.
“Striga Carta,” he replied. “Sorry, the Witches Book,” he corrected, when he saw that I didn’t comprehend.
“Is it a book of spells?”
“No, it’s more like a history book. It’s full of legends and lore from other lands. It was recovered off a vessel that we found wrecked upon our beaches. No one knows where it came from, but it tells of many mystical plants and creatures that are found on our island. It even has rudimentary maps that look to be of Hullabee Island.”
“Why is it called the Witches Book?” I asked, mildly annoyed that a history book had been given such a menacing name.
“Because,” Jaka interrupted, “it was written by a very wise woman who we believe was trying to find our island. She conceived that Hullabee Island was the key to unlocking the origin of the four realms. And she was a witch.”
I sucked in my breath, vacuuming out the remaining stale air in the tent and replacing it with terror.
Of course it had been too much to hope that the ancient book propped open on Jaka’s lap was merely a history book—full of boring stories of settlers and explorers like the ones we’d learned about in our History and Trade lessons at the Troian Center. I had a sinking feeling that the history in the Striga Carta would be a lot more terrifying and reveal more than I wanted to know.
“Here, it is!” Jaka said to himself with satisfaction.
He looked up from the pages, as thin and brittle as onion skin, to see our anxious faces and cleared his throat before continuing.
“Have you heard that history repeats itself? That we are destined to suffer the same fate until we correct our past mistakes? That is what Striga believed. She believed it so much that she set sail on a perilous sea voyage to try to right the wrongs of her ancestors, who were described in this very legend.
“It all started with two immortals, Kull and Aris. They were fighting for the affection of a beautiful girl named Zophia. Both were obsessed with her beauty and were boasting their powers in order to impress her. Each of them immortal, they possessed the same powers and prowess. They were handsome, strong, athletic and equal in every way. Zophia liked them both and didn’t know which of her suitors to choose. Kull grew worried that she was not impressed enough with him and that she might choose Aris instead. He was determined to set himself apart from Aris, so he set out to find a way to make himself more desirable.”
My eyes darted between Nova and Remi, my mind haunted with the memories of their relentless quarreling over my affection. I didn’t like the direction this story was going.
“It is said, that during his quest, Kull came across a mysterious elder who knew of his plight and promised he could help. He told Kull of a magical weapon that could take the life of an immortal. The elder told Kull, that if he killed a fellow immortal, he would gain all that they possessed, including their power. Thus,
making him more powerful than any other immortal in existence. This enticed Kull. It was exactly what he needed to set him apart from Aris. His greed overruled his suspicion of the strange elder. He hadn’t thought of eliminating Aris as an option, but now that it was, he was desperate to make it happen. Kull would have done anything to win the hand of the fair Zophia,” Jaka said pausing to stare ominously at Nova.
“What happened?” Jemma impatiently questioned.
“Kull greedily used the fabled weapon to kill Aris. Thus starting the first war.”
Sparrow gasped while everyone else but Journey remained speechless. “What was the weapon?” he asked.
“It isn’t known, but it is believed to be many different things. A bow, a sword, a knife, but I think it is something much worse. Something that lies within each of us, waiting to strike. The heart is a wild thing, that’s why it lives in a cage made of bone, buried deep within us. It is so easily poisoned by simple things like hate, greed, jealousy. In my experience, these are the most destructive of weapons, if left to grow untended.”
“What happened to Zophia?” I asked.
“Ah, yes. Zophia. She is an imperative part of this story.”
“She had fallen madly in love with Aris while Kull was off trying to find ways to gain power to impress her. They were set to be married under the first pink moon, but it so happened that Kull returned and killed Aris on the eve of their nuptials. When Zophia heard what happened, she was sick with grief. She ran to find Aris, not wanting to believe he could be dead. When she found his slain and bloodied body she was devastated and a deep madness began to set within Zophia. She threw herself over Aris and wept while staring up at the heavy, pink moon and from that day forward, it became known as the blood moon, leaving death and devastation in its wake.
“The other immortals found out what was done to Aris and went after Kull for retribution. Kull fought them off, killing many of them easily with a simple blade. The blade has become a bit of a legend itself, since it had a hand in slaying immortals. It seemed that the death of one immortal had broken the magic that kept them all immortal. This caused a war. It has been called many names—the first war, the holy war, the immortal war. But whatever it’s called, one thing remains true; it has shaped our very existence,” Jaka said somberly.
He paused, lost in his own thoughts for a moment. “Where was I?” he asked after a short break.
“Zophia?” Jemma prodded. “You were telling us what happened to her.”
“Ah, yes. Zophia. Dressed in her wedding gown, she lay over Aris’s body during the entire war, shielding him and praying he would somehow come back to her. It is believed that this act is what spared her life. The warring immortals likely thought her body was already slain as she lay over Aris, covered in his blood.
“When she finally raised her head from her beloved’s, all she saw was red. Red blood, spilled from those she loved. Red rage, toward Kull, who had senselessly started this war and a red moon, reflecting the violence it had seen. Zophia rose to her feet and vowed to find a way to punish Kull for what he’d done and most importantly, to reunite herself with her soul mate, Aris.
“She went in search of the mysterious elder who had given Kull the immortal weapon. When she found him, she was poised to kill him for instigating the horrible events, but he pleaded for his life, saying he could help Zophia as well. She paused long enough to hear him say he could give her what she wanted most, her heart’s true desire—Aris. She listened to his bargain and they struck a deal that both felt was fair. Zophia set off to put actions into motion that have shaped this world and many others.
“Zophia found Kull on the battlefield and threw herself at his feet, declaring him triumphant. She told him she loved him and that she wanted him to stop the war and spend eternity with her. Kull was intrigued, but he was also enjoying the fear and respect he was gaining by slaying immortals in the war. He’d become accustom to stealing powers from those he killed and wasn’t eager to give that up. So Zophia enticed him with a proposition that the elder said he was sure Kull couldn’t pass up. She told Kull she knew of a secret ritual that would change the world. It would transform Kull and herself into the supreme immortal rulers of all beings. They would be all powerful and live eternally together.
“The elder had been right. Kull immediately agreed that they must participate in this secret ritual. So Zophia took his knife and led him to the top of the highest mountain peak and they waited for the elder to prepare the ritual. The fragile old man limped about, chanting in a foreign tongue for hours, drawing marks all over their bodies. The sky grew dark and the wind picked up. Soon the sky ignited with cracks of fire and a sound that rumbled deep within their bones. Kull was growing impatient with him, but Zophia reassured him that the elder knew what he was doing and this was all part of the ritual.
“The sky opened up, lashing them with stinging rain and hail. Zophia’s white dress suddenly turned red as the rain washed the blood from her hair. Kull was frightened for her. He thought his lovely bride-to-be was bleeding, injured by the hail from the storm. When he said so, Zophia laughed cruelly, her eyes wild. She told him it was the blood of her true love, Aris, and that she’d never washed it from her hair, intending to keep him with her always.
“She pulled out his blade, turning it on him and cursed him for taking her true love from her, saying that if she could not be with Aris and be happy, then Kull didn’t deserve happiness either. She grabbed hold of Kull’s trembling arms and started screaming the same chanting words as the elder, while holding the blade to his throat.
“In that moment Kull knew that Zophia had tricked him. She laughed madly as the ground beneath their feet began to split into a deep crevice. The earth opened up, groaning and shuddering into an endless abyss, running straight to the core of the universe. Kull tried to get away, but it was too late. Zophia pulled them both into the mouth of the hungry mountain. When she was satisfied by the look of pure terror and despair on Kull’s face, she laughed and closed her eyes, praying for the falling to stop and the darkness to take her and lead her back to her true love, Aris.”
“Did it work?” Sparrow asked anxiously, when Jaka left us hanging.
“Their sacrifice did end the war,” he said. “When their souls had finally been devoured, the mountain erupted with their blood, cleansing the earth with molten lava from the volcano. This is how the four realms were created; heaven, hell, earth and limbo. It had ben the elder’s plan all along, to create new and powerful realms that he planned to rule. He created the heavens where the virtuous immortals were sent. He deemed them gods and goddesses and they could peacefully live out their days in a new realm, safe from the dangers of earth. Those who had fought with Kull and killed were vanquished. Cast out, they were doomed to live all of eternity as demons in a treacherous realm named hell. He created earth, a fragile realm full of life, creatures and mortals to entertain him. Lastly, he created limbo at the request of Zophia. She wanted the worst punishment possible for Kull. A space between spaces, where he couldn’t be part of any realm; where there was no peace, no life, no death, just an endless abyss of pain and suffering that would stretch on for all of time.”
“So she got to be with Aris in heaven then, right?” Jemma interrupted.
“Not exactly,” Jaka said. “You see, Zophia had been so blinded by her hatred for Kull that she hadn’t asked enough questions of the elder and he had tricked her too. He trapped her in the in-between, cursed to usher souls between the four realms. She became a portal that the elder could use to travel to any realm, making him the most powerful being of all. This had been the plan he was orchestrating the whole time. He had used Kull’s greed and selfishness to his advantage to start the war. Then he preyed upon Zophia’s grief and emotions, getting her to give up her soul in order to punish Kull. She had actually supplied the elder with the idea of limbo, giving him what he needed to finalize his plan—her soul and a way to roam between all the realms and rule them all.”
“Aris did go to heaven like the elder had promised, but those in heaven are ethereal spirits, invisible to us and even to poor Zophia. It’s believed that Zophia could hear Aris speaking to her, but she couldn’t see him and it was slowly driving her mad. In our culture, Aris means heaven and is often described as a calm cloud or mist. Now Kull is the opposite. Kull means hell and is always represented by fire.”
“But he wasn’t supposed to go to hell,” Nova said, speaking for the first time in a while. “You said Kull was supposed to go to limbo.”
“Ah, you didn’t let me finish telling you how the story ends,” Jaka replied.
I heard the chief speaking, picking up the story where he’d left off, but I couldn’t peel my eyes off of Nova. His beautiful face had paled three shades whiter than I’d ever seen. He looked sickly and haunted and I felt his nerves tingle from across the room as I watched him clench his fists and set his jaw to stop him from shaking.
“ . . . Zophia called out to the elder in fury. He came to her to thank her for her part in his plan. She recoiled in shock and fear when she first saw him, because she didn’t recognize him. He had given up his old, tired mortal body that she was used to seeing shrouded in dirty robes and was now possessing a new one. But not just any body, it was a perfect human specimen of stunning physique and it used to belong to Kull. Zophia was angry and hurt that he had tricked her. She begged him to do as he had promised, but the silver-tongued man scolded her, saying he had kept his word. Aris was in heaven as she had asked and she would have been there too, but she asked the elder to create an even worse place for Kull—the price had been her soul. And those without souls weren’t permitted in heaven. So, when the elder created limbo, per Zophia’s request, he had to make her the bridge connecting all the realms, where she would be able to watch over Kull’s suffering, while still being connected to Aris. Since limbo was a place that no longer required a body, he felt that Kull wouldn’t mind if he borrowed his. After all, it would be a shame to waste such a fine body, when his own was so old and frail. He assured her that Kull’s spirit was rotting in limbo, engulfed in eternal anguish, as she had asked.
