by Ela Lourenco
“No clue whatsoever,” he admitted, slightly in awe of the statuesque beauty standing in front of him.
“There wasn’t enough time to explain on the way,” Sena explained, lowering herself to sit on the soft amber grass. “If we had delayed, they would have found you and taken you away before we had a chance to speak.”
“They?” he and Sya asked in unison.
“The seekers,” she answered calmly. Looking up at him with intelligent eyes, she nodded. “You are a Sahati, of course, and their natural born enemy. At least that is what both sides believe.”
“It is how it is,” he stated certainly.
“Nothing is as it appears,” Sena retorted impatiently. “For such an intelligent, well trained man, you are extremely obtuse.”
His cheeks flamed as a small chuckle escaped Sya’s lips.
“And you,” Sena stood up suddenly and glared at her mentor. “You should not have kept things from me. I had a right to know.”
Ari watched the laughter fade from Sya’s eyes replaced with remorse.
“I know what I am,” Sena stated matter-of-factly. “It came as a shock, something you could have prepared me for during our many training sessions.”
“Sena,” Sya spoke gently, voice full of contrition. “I am sorry. But I told you at the start, there are things I may not disclose to you, things you must discover for yourself. That is the way it must be.”
“I understand that,” Sena agreed. “But a little gentle hinting would have helped. I had to go through the Chyna to find out that I am in fact a freak of nature.”
“You are no such thing!” Sya protested.
“What would you call someone whose very existence belies the rules of nature?” Sena asked Ari.
“Uh, um … well, I don’t even know what you are talking about,” he mumbled, confused.
“Either way,” Sena sighed. “I know this place was supposed to be secret, but I knew I had to bring him. I felt it inside.”
Sya looked at her speculatively and then nodded. “I trust your judgement.” She had wondered if Sena would inherit the Zamani’s gift for intuition. It seemed that she had. Although not exactly as strong as foresight, it allowed the Zamani to instinctively know which path to follow—something she believed was born of their deep bond with nature.
“But why am I here? Wherever here is?” Ari exclaimed. He had to get back, he had to get the prophecy. The Dohar was counting on him.
“You are exactly where you are meant to be,” Sena commented. “You look for that, which is not hidden yet do not search for that which must be sought.”
“What on Xanos does that mean?” Ari said angrily. “Why can’t you just speak clearly?”
“Because I am not allowed to tell you the way, merely to help you find it,” she replied, unruffled by his outburst. “Only if you look into the past will you find your future. The choice is yours, but your time is fast running out. The crossroads are up ahead, and you will decide on your path one way or another.”
Her words seeped inside of him, carried by magick he had never before encountered. A deep sense of discomfort settled into the pit of his stomach, as her warning coursed through every fibre of his being. The prophecy, the Sahati end game, everything blurred and dulled—even his sense of who he was. Another image teased at his mind—the face of a young boy with dark hair and green eyes smiling up at him as they sparred in a garden he did not remember. He shook his head as if to chase away the image, but another assaulted him in its stead. He could hear angry shouting, a woman’s pleading voice, a bright light blinded him and then heat—nothing but heat. He gasped. He was suffocating, slowly burning from the inside out.
“Breathe, Ari,” a gentle voice urged. “It is all right, you are safe here with me.” It was Sena. At some point, he must have fallen because he was lying in the grass, his head cradled in her hands, a worried looking Sya bent over him.
“What was that?” he asked, trying to shake off the chill that clung to him. “What did you do to me?”
“I merely helped you to see that which you have forgotten,” Sena said gently. “Nothing more, the rest came from you.”
Ari shot to his feet. First, the image in the forest and now this. What was happening? Was he remembering at last? And who was the boy in his memories? He remembered nothing before the time the Dohar had saved him and taken him in, nothing about his life before. Try as he might, the Dohar himself had been unable to create a spell to bring his memory back. And now, suddenly, he was remembering? How? What was he remembering? The images flitted in his head like mismatched jigsaw puzzles. If only he could piece them together.
Chapter Nineteen
“Lyli!” the protector exclaimed in a low whisper, as he found her waiting in the shadows of the cottage. He stopped to catch his breath. Ari had managed to evade him, leaving no tracks to follow.
“He got away,” she stated rather than asked. “Good,” she nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. “Events are set in motion.”
“Good?” he protested. “You sent me to stop him, and I … I did, but then, I know him Lyli.”
She waited for him to continue, unsurprised by what he told her.
“The man they have sent for the prophecy, It’s Ari.” He had told his mentor about his childhood friend. They had talked about it many times. “I don’t know how it is possible. I saw him die, and yet It’s him. It’s really him.”
“Ah, protector,” the oracle smiled. “When will you understand that nothing is ever as it seems at first glance? You were but a child when you witnessed the attack on your friend and his family. It was a terrible thing for one so young to see. The mind can play cruel tricks over time, warping memories, distorting events. You mentioned you had blacked out for a short time after you found them, perhaps you did not observe all there was to see.”
He shook his head. “But I went to the guard every day for a year. I went hoping to convince them it had not been an accident. If he had been found alive, they would have told me!”
“Perhaps, they did not know the truth either,” she suggested kindly.
“You are saying that whoever cast the spell took Ari?” he gasped as what she was implying hit home. “I am sure that the Sahat were behind the attack. Why on Xanos would Ari join the very group that had his family killed?” He shook his head. It was impossible. The Ari he had known would never betray the memory of his parents in such a way. He would never seek shelter with those that had committed this crime.
“You are assuming that young Ari knows who killed his parents,” Lyli commented calmly. “You are also assuming that he remembers that night.” She let her words trail off, allowing the implication of what she had voiced to register.
A myriad of emotions flitted across her young apprentice’s face—sorrow, guilt, disbelief, and finally, determination. She knew him well enough after all this time to know that he would seek out his friend. He needed to. Ari was key to the fruition of plans that had been centuries in the making. She had foreseen it many life cycles ago before either boy had ever been born. Manipulating destiny was a tricky business. Each time she set an event in motion, she risked altering the equilibrium of the balance, but she had done what she had to.
Although created by the Gods, she was not a deity herself, and thus not bound to the laws of non-interference. Of course, there was always a price to pay when meddling with fate—one she was willing to accept in order for her plans to succeed. There was no winning the war without sacrifice. Every warrior she had ever trained since founding the seekers centuries ago knew that. The good of the many outweighed the needs of the few.
“Wait,” her apprentice said suddenly. “You said earlier that things were as they should be. I was never supposed to stop him, was I?”
She nodded.
“So why did you send me after him? Why leave the prophecy unprotected?” he demand
ed.
“You had to meet again,” she stated simply with no further explanation.
“And the prophecy, is it safe?”
“Absolutely,” she chuckled. “It is right where it was always meant to be.” She stood wearily and would have collapsed had he not propped her up.
“Oracle?” worry lined his face. “What is it? Are you unwell?”
She patted his cheek affectionately. “It is just old age, young friend. My time approaches. There is one more thing I need for you to do before I can allow myself to pass on.”
***
Sya watched her young student with apprehension. Sena was right. As the girl’s mentor, she should have warned her of the possibility of being claimed by all three races during her Chyna. She had held back though, not truly believing that it could actually happen herself. But more was afoot here. The Zamani had heightened intuition, but what Sena had revealed to the young man, Ari, was more than that. It was a power akin to the oracle’s. Discreetly, she sniffed the air around her protégée. Reeling, she recoiled. She had been right! Mingled with the scent of Sena’s own magick was a faint hint of Lyli’s own essence. But that in itself was impossible. No two beings could transfer and share their essence and magick. It was unheard of. What had the blasted oracle done now?
Realisation slammed into her, draining her face of all colour. She couldn’t have, she wouldn’t have … it was too dangerous a thing to have done even for Lyli, and yet, Sya groaned inwardly. The crazy witch had done it. She had actually tampered with Sena’s essence during the Chyna! Feeling out gently with her own magick, she looked inside of Sena. Sure enough, there, intertwined with the air magick of the Hectians, the earth magick of the Sybeli, and the shamanic power of the Zamani, was a thin but strong thread of Lyli’s own magick. The slim silver wisp had wrapped itself stubbornly around the other three, gaining strength from their power much like a parasite. Examining the phenomenon closer, she realised her initial theory had been wrong. Lyli’s magick was not in fact feeding off of Sena’s three, rather, it was binding them together, forcing the once separate entities to merge with each other.
“It had to be done, you know,” Sena startled her by saying. “There is a reason that a person can only be claimed by one race. It makes sense if you think about it. Hectian magick are vastly different to Sybeli. What do you think would happen if someone was claimed by both simultaneously?” She nodded as Sya paled, understanding what she was talking about. “Both Hectian and Sybeli magick are strong and dominant in nature much like the Gods they originate from. Neither would be able to tolerate sharing their host. Over time, the dual demands of such powers would tear the host apart.”
“She did it to save you,” Sya realised.
Sena smiled sadly. “Yes, she knew that I was not strong enough yet to house three such powerful magick, so she did the only thing she could. She bound them together.”
“Creating one whole completely new breed of magick,” Sya whispered, cold sweat gathering on her brow. She didn’t know whether to thank or curse Lyli for her interference. On one hand, she had surely saved Sena’s sanity. Perhaps even her life and yet by doing what she did she had, whether intentionally or not, created a new race amongst men—a new magick no one knew anything about.
“You have three magick inside of you?” Ari drew back, staring at Sena with wild eyes. It just couldn’t be!
“Well, four technically, or is it one now that they are melding together?” Sena mused, unperturbed.
“But, but …” Ari struggled to find the words.
“Yes Ari,” Sena said patiently. “As I have already explained to you, I am part of this world and part Zamani.”
“But even if other realms really do exist, and I’m not saying I believe that they do,” he added hurriedly. “How can you be more than one race? When a child reaches maturity, whichever race is more dominant inside of his or her being will fight the other off. Hectian or Sybeli, you must be one or the other, or Zamani in your case. You cannot be all three!”
“Sometimes, things are not as they appear, and truths are not that which we once believed,” Sena stated calmly.
Recognition flashed in Ari’s eyes. “You’re speaking like her! That’s why you felt so familiar! The oracle, that’s exactly what she said to me not that long ago!” He backed away from her, wariness etched on his face. “You’re her aren’t you? You’re Lyli in disguise!”
Sena and Sya both looked at each other in surprise and burst out laughing. Whatever they had been expecting him to say, that had certainly not been it.
“I’m not sure if I should be offended or flattered,” Sena grinned, wiping a tear of mirth from her eye. “But no, I’m not her. I told you, I am Sena. Although perhaps you are not wholly wrong. Lyli gave me a part of her essence during my Chyna, so you may sense some of her in me.”
Ari was so caught up trying to make sense of everything Sena had told him that he never noticed Sya circle back around him. She gently drew some glyphs over him and caught him deftly when he fell asleep where he stood. “I had to,” she apologised to Sena’s unspoken recrimination. “He was about to overload. I think we have given him too much to deal with for one night.”
“I know the feeling,” her student admitted, sounding more like the Sena Sya knew. “It’s been a rollercoaster two days. Everything feels so different now. Everything I believed to be true has been shredded into a new reality I don’t think I know how to deal with.”
Sya frowned. “You were never meant to begin your ascension in such a manner. It was to take place over time little by little, giving you time to adjust and grow into the changes.”
“But time is running out,” Sena said, resigned. “We cannot afford for me to transition at ease. I can cope with the changes with the training, with knowing that nothing is what I believed, but what I cannot cope with is the feeling in the pit of my stomach that I am becoming something that not even you understand.”
Sya looked at her puzzled. “I always told you that you would ascend through the levels of transition.”
“Yes,” Sena acknowledged. “You did. But you never told me what I was to become, and now I fear even you do not know the answer to that.”
Chapter Twenty
“There has been a massive surge of power in the web,” Jian announced, striding purposefully into the main hall where Hecator and Sybela awaited him. “I was monitoring the levels just as it spiked.”
“Could it be a glitch, an anomaly of some sort?” Sybela wondered. “It has happened before.”
Jian shook his head adamantly. “Not this time, were that the case the readings would have normalised by now. I checked again and again. The web has not just grown significantly, the pattern has changed.”
Hecator shot to his feet. “That cannot be!” The magicks, which wove across the universe and linked to every living being from God to blade of grass, which they had nicknamed “the web,” was one of the only true constants in the cosmos.
“Perhaps another God is to be born?” Hemia suggested, joining the group.
“Yes, you told us the web did spike before Hemia and Ishkan were born,” Sybela agreed.
“No,” Jian shuddered. “This is something else altogether. When a God is due to arrive, there is a ripple in the links, but nothing like this. Come,” he all but dragged them to his observatory. “See for yourselves.”
Walking past the rows of different machines and gadgets lined up with military precision in his meticulously kept laboratory, he led his colleagues to a large amber sphere. A collective gasp echoed across the room as the other gods peered into the orb. There, as plain as day, was the web—except that it no longer resembled the one they had studied for aeons. Gone were the linear spider-like strands weaving in uniform circular fashion. In its place, a new intricate, complex design, myriads of magical threads intertwining in patterns unknown to them, interwoven in …
>
“Colour?” Hecator jerked backwards.
“That is what I have been trying to tell you,” Jian complained.
“But it has ever been amber,” Sybela stared at the blue, silver, and golden strands now covering the web. “What does this mean?”
“Nothing good to be sure,” Hemia whispered.
“There is something else,” Jian added. “I tried to look through time to see if I could pinpoint the origin of the surge.”
“And?” Hecator motioned for him to continue impatiently.
“Well, that’s just it,” Jian admitted. “I could not see anything past, present, or future. It were as though time had ceased to exist.”
Later that night, Sybela joined Hecator in his private study. She knew that he wished to speak with her in private. As the first two gods in creation, they had lived so long with only each other for company that they had achieved a closeness—a bond deeper than those with the others.
“It is not Jian that has been affected,” she spoke softly, as they sat in front of the blazing fire behind his desk. “I tried to summon my earth magicks, and for the first time ever, they did not answer my call, as though our bond had been broken.”
Hecator rubbed his head wearily. “I have fared no better,” he admitted. “The skies are deaf to my pull.”
“How can this be?” her voice shook, her face ashen.
“I do not know old friend,” he reached out to hold her hand. “Nothing fits. We are becoming powerless, and I find that I do not know what to do with that knowledge.”
“We must find a way to fix this, Hecator. The fate of our people depends on us. We must fix this.”
Hecator stared grimly into the flickering flames long after Sybela had retired for the night. For the first time since he had existed, he trembled a cold sense of foreboding spreading through his body. He had never felt so powerless before, unable to reassure his family, to watch over his people on Xanos. Worst of all, he could feel it. Something was coming, and whatever it was had the power to rewrite the magicks of the cosmos, the power to destroy them all.
