The Omen of Stones

by Casey L. Bond

  Omen and I walked from the room, down the steps of the House, and followed the Priestesses around back. Brecan called the Circle in the back yard as promised, with Mom and Dad watching from the back door.

  The four Fate-Kissed surrounded the four of them, forming two wheels, one representative of the Goddess and one of Fate. The air crackled as they spelled the area for privacy and vanished from sight. I could still feel them; the magic they emitted stung my nose even though my back was to them. I faced the forest, scanning constantly for any spirits or souls who might approach. The wind kicked up, howling through the bones in the trees.

  “Is that your doing, Sky?” I asked.

  “The wind is nature’s, not mine.” Sky’s voice was guarded and sharp. She, too, must be on edge.

  Lyric began to hum softly, the tune of the song they’d chanted against the dark mass of souls. The song about each and all of us. To my right, Omen pulled the hag stone from her pocket and stroked her thumb over its smooth surface.

  The Circle members were gone for what felt like hours, but we waited, carefully watching for any threats. Thankfully, the forest beyond the Houses remained quiet. Only the scampering of an occasional opossum, the fluttering of moth wings, and the hoot of an owl broke the cricket song. When the Circle members reappeared, they faced us.

  “Ela’s spirit has been released.”

  I straightened my spine. “I have to call on her now.”

  Mom hurried out the back door. “Can’t she come to you?”

  Brecan shook his head. “It will be faster for him to find Ela on her plane, Sable.”

  “Then ask Fate to fill you with his power and go with you,” she insisted. “If Cyril is there, she will be looking for you.”

  “If I go now, she might not realize Ela is in her realm yet,” I argued.

  Omen’s hand slid into mine. “I will be here to ground you. Be careful, River.”

  I squeezed her hand and kissed her temple. “Thank you. I will. I promise.”

  I watched her carefully as I felt my magic swell. As the realms of the living and dead began to blur, I desperately hoped I would be able to keep my promise to her.

  29

  River

  Color leached from the world and the hollow bones hanging in the trees began to rattle. “Ela?” I cried. “Great Grandmother Ela, Priestess of the House of Earth!” My voice echoed through the wood. A cool fog slithered over the ground, clouding me from the knees down. I walked in a slow circle, watching for her, or for anyone else who heard me calling for her.

  The wood began to fill with spirits. None felt familiar.

  A man several yards to my left started my way, his hand outstretched beseechingly. His eyes were dark voids, the same as the souls who made up the dark mass. As I looked around, I realized that all the approaching souls were the same, with empty sockets in place of eyes.

  “You called for your Great Grandmother, but why would you not seek me out first?” a woman’s voice echoed around me.

  I looked for the source, searching for the owner of the voice, whom I suspected to be Cyril. More and more spirits appeared. They filled every space of earth, each one so thin I could see through several at once, but so thick in number that I couldn’t separate them. As an oily dark cloud appeared in front of me, I knew who would emerge before she stepped out.

  Cyril.

  She looked so much like Mom it was startling, but nothing about her felt like Mom. My mother was good and kind, and while she could be fiercely protective and brave, she respected and lived for those she loved.

  There was no love in Cyril, only greed and hatred, chaos and strife.

  “I was hoping you’d visit,” she purred. “I see you got my invitation.”

  “Quite the invitation,” I quipped.

  She smiled Mom’s smile. “I see you’re as clever as your mother. Tell me…how did she feel when Fate abandoned her?”

  “I wouldn’t know. Fate still favors her. He always will.”

  Cyril’s smile faded. “You lie, even to yourself. He wouldn’t rest in the four of you if he still lived in Sable.”

  I watched her carefully. When she struck, it would be fast, like a viper uncoiling and lashing out, fangs wide and ready to clamp onto its prey.

  She watched me just as eagerly, her eyes dark and wide. She started toward me, but stopped when a bright white orb of light shone between us, starting as a pin prick of light and expanding until it took shape. Grandmother Ela’s spirit had been with the Goddess, and she shone brighter because of it. Brighter than anything I’d seen.

  When Cyril lashed out at Ela, I knocked her hand away. “Don’t touch her.”

  Ela glowed brighter and her eyes burned with anger as she stared her daughter down. She tucked her arms into her chest and thrust them straight out, her light radiating so brightly, all the darkness disappeared.

  Cyril vanished, leaving only a frustrated growl behind.

  The souls crowding the space were suddenly gone, as was the mist, and the bones in the trees stopped rattling. She turned to face me. “You would protect me?” she asked.

  “You are my blood. Of course I would.”

  Her hair was gray and her back hunched, but the power emanating from her spirit was unlike anything I had ever felt. It was strong but gentle, a steady presence that came in waves.

  “Spirit tongue,” she addressed me, “blood of my blood, grandson of Fate. I was angry when the Goddess thrust me away, but now I see why she did. Tell me…how did my daughter’s soul escape Fate’s grasp?”

  “We believe a Fate witch used dark magic to tear her away from him, but we have no idea how to find the witch responsible. Cyril is corrupting spirits and using them against us, sending them into our realm.”

  “To what end?” Ela asked, shining bright as a star in the heavens.

  “She is striking at the Fate witches in an attempt to end Fate himself.”

  Ela gasped and clasped a hand over her chest. “She wants his power. She always has.”

  “Can she take it?” I asked. “Fate left Mom when she chose to hand-fast to my father. He spread himself among—”

  “Four powerful witches,” she finished. “The Fate-Kissed. There is something I must show you.”

  She hovered over the land, carving a path between the House of Fate and the House of Earth. I jogged up the steps of her former House and tried to keep up. Ela floated up the steps and down a long hallway, to a bedroom at the end. Currently Ivy’s, judging by the robes hanging on a hook just inside the door.

  She glided across the room and pointed toward the bed. “Move it over.” I pushed the wooden frame and it groaned and slid across the floor. She knelt on the ground and pointed at a specific floorboard that was a shade darker than the rest. “Take it up.”

  I pried the plank up and peered into a hollow space where a book of shadows lay. Ela speared me with a glance. “This was my great-grandmother’s.”

  I wasn’t sure how old this book was, but thousands of years was a good place to start.

  She pointed to the tome. “Open it to the last page.”

  The leather binding was buttery soft in my hand and the pages were yellowed, but not brittle. It was well-preserved, considering its age. As I carefully flipped to the last page, I saw it contained writing that abruptly ended.

  “My great-grandmother was a prophetess. She foresaw the rise of the Fate-Kissed, as well as the battle you must face.”

  Part Three

  The Rise of the Fate-Kissed

  30

  River

  The writing on the last page was scratched into the parchment, urgent and dark, like the writer engraved it onto the page instead of inking it. “It’s written in blood,” Ela noted. I could see the dark red-brown hue, and as I ran my fingers over the words, felt the power of the person who’
d penned it.

  She’d sealed her magic into the words.

  As The Shadowed gather beyond the great mountain, the Fate-Kissed will rise. They will draw Fate’s darkness over the land, a shield against those who seek to shred the light. For only in darkness can light find its purpose. And only in light can darkness find rest.

  The future lies in the hands of Fate’s blood and bone, spirit and stone, song and sky. Weave with the darkness or all will die.

  The writing abruptly stopped, the period’s blood ink dragged down the page as if the writer had struggled to keep the pen on the paper and dug the tip into the parchment to keep contact.

  “It was the last thing she penned, her last prophecy. She died just after writing it,” Ela noted, her bitter expression softening.

  “Do you remember her?” I asked.

  She nodded once. “I remember her as an old, unpleasant woman. I suppose I wasn’t exactly pleasant in my lifetime, either. Especially when it came to your mother.”

  “She understands, you know,” I told her. “She knows that you feared her because of what Cyril taught her, and how she was able to call upon what you called dark magic, but what she used wasn’t Cyril’s brand of darkness. It was Fate’s power, and she had every right to use it because he endowed her with it. Mom…she never misused his gifts. Unlike her mother.”

  Ela closed her eyes for a long moment. “I realize that now. I always thought myself wise because of my station, but now I see how foolish I was.” She pointed to the book again. “This is a powerful book of shadows. There may be more within its pages you might one day need. Take it, but guard it diligently. A book of shadows, especially one of a prophetess, in the wrong hands can be devastating.”

  Ela’s great-grandmother had prophesied about the Fate-Kissed generations before we were born. What else did she foresee?

  “Does it speak of the soul-mated?”

  Ela’s head ticked back in surprise, then she looked deep into my eyes. “Oh my,” she breathed. “Soul-mated pairs are rare indeed. I’ve only known of a few who were truly soul-mated, though many coupled witches liked to imagine or claim themselves to be.” She was quiet for a moment. “Is she Fate-Kissed as well?”

  I nodded.

  “Protect her.”

  “Help me protect her. Help me protect the Kingdom, Great-Grandmother.”

  She looked out the window, toward the mountains. “We must find out what lays behind them…The prophecy said The Shadowed gather there. Cyril must be there, creating the dark beings that are taking over the spirit realm.”

  “And attacking the living in ours,” I added. “She’s already sent them after us twice.”

  “You must be very cautious. You have one foot in the realm of the dead, and one in the realm of the living, which means you are the perfect target for her. If she manages to overpower you, she will take your soul and your body,” she warned. “You, River, are the vessel she needs to overpower Fate.”

  “She can’t do that!” I sputtered. “Fate is the one who fuels my power. He could easily remove it.”

  Ela shook her head. “Not if she seals the power inside you before she banishes your soul. If she takes Fate’s power, she can battle him. And if she battles him, there is a chance, however slim, that she might win. That slim chance is what she is grasping at,” she whispered. “I know my daughter well. Besides, she has little to lose in trying.”

  She was right. Cyril might not win the fight, but she had nothing to lose in fighting it. And her confidence was likely bolstered because a Fate witch had managed to strip her soul from Fate’s grasp. If someone could steal a soul from Fate, what more could she do, given the right circumstances?

  “The prophecy said we would fight The Shadowed.”

  “It did not say you would win,” she reminded.

  “It didn’t say we’d lose, either.”

  She smiled. “Not only do you look like Sable, you have her stubborn spirit. You’ll need it for what you’re about to face. I will go to the mountain and see what Cyril is building. I will gather information on your foe.”

  I gently closed the book and held it protectively to my chest. “I’ll go with you.”

  She shook her head. “It’s much too dangerous. As long as you are in the spirit realm, you must stay in this room so Cyril will not be able to find you. The spells lingering in the walls, floor, and ceiling are stronger than any in The Gallows. Stay here, River. Stay here and wait for me.”

  “What if something happens to you?” I asked.

  She pursed her lips. “I can handle my daughter.”

  Cyril was one of The Shadowed now. Shadows were cast when light struck an object at a certain angle, and I got the feeling Great-Grandmother felt she was the light that caused Cyril to turn to darkness. Most parents probably felt responsible for their children’s upbringing, for their choices. I knew mine did. But a parent was only responsible for the actions of their child to a point. They could teach and lead, but it was up to the child to heed their warnings and stay on the correct path. It was up to the child to make their own decisions and bear the consequences of those choices.

  With another admonition to stay put, she faded, taking her light with her and leaving me alone in the darkness. I wanted to wait in the spell-warded room and see what she discovered, but the longer I lingered, the more I felt myself growing cold. My skin was becoming ashen and my breath plumed in front of me in arctic wisps. I tucked the book into my waistband and waited what felt like an eternity.

  The only thing keeping me sane and preventing me from becoming part of the spirit realm was the warmth on the back of my hand, where Omen’s thumb still rubbed lazy circles.

  She was waiting for me, just as I promised to return to her.

  Great-Grandmother suddenly reappeared beside me as I stared forlornly out the window at the empty yard near the Circle, where I knew my heart, family, and friends stood guard over my body in their realm.

  “She is grooming a Fate witch on the dark side of the mountain,” Great-Grandmother revealed.

  “A Fate witch from The Wilds?”

  Ela nodded. “He has dark hair and eyes. He looks young, but there’s no way to tell his age. His is an unusual and rare power. He’s a witch caster.”

  “What is a witch caster?” I asked.

  “His magic only works against other witches. He is able to block spells or rob them of their power entirely.”

  I gasped as more puzzle pieces clicked into place. His magic spelled the rope that my captors used to hold me. They had planned to drag me to him, but decided to have some fun and torture me first. They didn’t expect Omen. Though, neither did I.

  “They’ve gathered every banished individual they could find to attack the Kingdom, instructing them to breach the borders and kill as many as they can. And that doesn’t include the countless souls she’s amassed. There are so many Shadowed, River…” she trailed off, concern shining in her eyes. “There’s no way you can fight them all.”

  She was right. I couldn’t fight an army of Shadowed. Neither could the Guard or the witches. They could fight against the banished, but if their numbers were anything like I imagined…there could be thousands.

  Ela glided forward and placed a finger on my forehead, a scene entering my mind. Ela hovered at the top of the mountain overlooking what should be a lush valley, but instead there were two armies, one living and one dead. I could see both, one transposed over the other, both inhabiting the same piece of land.

  The living army was comprised of castoffs who wanted their lives, homes, and families back. The banished were thirsty for revenge and willing to die to fight and take back their way of life, to escape The Wilds for good. Men, women, and even children were donning armor and picking out weaponry. They weren’t well-trained. Most looked determined but nervous. Our Guard could stand against them, despite the sheer number
that would march on our border.

  But the second army, the one only I would see coming, was filled with writhing, malevolent souls. The Shadowed. They stretched to the horizon, ghostly abominations created and groomed by Cyril, who promised them they would soon be able to cross the realm and march on Nautilus. She bragged that the small force she sent had breached the divide between the living and dead, and so could they. She swore they could take back their lives if they brought her the witch prince. He was a spirit tongue, she told them, and his words could raise the dead.

  Ela removed her finger from my skin.

  A chill slid over me. “Raise the dead?” I couldn’t do that. Could I?

  Ela nodded sagely. “With Fate’s power, River, I believe you could. It’s what Cyril is counting on.”

  What could I do? Cyril had Lindey, and Omen would go after Lindey the moment she sensed she was in grave danger, which would likely be soon after I returned to my body. I refused to leave Omen unguarded and Cyril knew it. Belatedly, I realized Mom had intuited Cyril’s intricate web. We were no more than insects, creatures that saw the beautiful grid lines and flew toward it anyway.

  “She has leverage,” I admitted. “Cyril took someone dear.”

  “Someone you would die for?” she asked.

  “Someone my soul-mated would die for, and I would die for her.”

  Ela closed her eyes. “Try to quickly free her, River, but if you can’t, you cannot give in to Cyril to save one. Not even your soul-mated. If you did, every living body and soul in Nautilus would be at risk.”

  My teeth began to chatter. “You need to go back to your body, Soul walker,” she said sternly. “Quickly. You’ve been here too long.”

  Omen

  He’d been gone for hours. When he traveled to the spirit realm to find my mother, he was gone mere minutes. But this felt different, wrong.

  River’s teeth began to chatter. He was so cold, too cold. His skin took on a pale blue tint, and a terrifying sapphire hue was locked in his lips. His breath plumed in front of him. His fingers were rigid, but I tried to keep him warm and keep him grounded. “Something is wrong,” I announced.