edge OF FOREVER
The Death and Life of Analey Rose
Book One of The Immortal Souls Trilogy
PATRICIA GALVAN
Copyright © 2019 Patricia Galvan
All rights reserved.
ISBN:9781539423348
This book is dedicated to my husband for letting me disappear for hours at a time into this realm of my imagination.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
prologue
Babylon 850 A.D.
Aloes Cardamone walked towards a mud and straw hut in the center of a small, but crowded village. He kept his eyes forward as he made his way through the mass of people who had paused what they were doing to stare at him. The once bright and hot sun hid behind a gray storm cloud, but Aloes hadn’t noticed the cool chill in the air. Perspiration glistened on his forehead and he pushed back a strand of black hair as he wiped the sweat off his brow. Stopping just long enough to take a deep breath, Aloes felt the slight rise of panic in his chest, but he forced his legs to move. His wool tunic rustled against his thighs with each leaden step he took. The aggressive people of Duero Valley feared Aloes, for he had killed many without cause and felt no remorse for his vindictive behavior. Now, he was the one with fear in his heart, as he moved through the throng of people to the place where the necromancer, Xamura, waited for him.
Aloes had finally made it to the hut, when dread compelled him to stop once again. A large bird screeched overhead as it flew through the darkened sky. The high-pitched sound was alarming enough to push him towards the witch’s dwelling. The straw roof hung low, forcing Aloes to duck his head as he crossed the threshold. He kept his head down and his green eyes to the ground as he stood in the presence of the witch. He had heard the stories that traveled around the world. Xamura was advanced in her clairaudient and clairsentient gifts but speaking to, and sensing spirits were merely the tip of her abilities. It had been with much trepidation that Aloes had requested the visit. The old witch sat in the center of the hut with her eyes closed and her hands resting on her knees.
“Come in,” Xamura said, keeping her eyes closed and her voice low as if she didn’t want anyone else to hear her.
Aloes stood a moment longer, unsure of how to approach the witch, as he wasn’t aware of the customs of the people of Chaldea.
“Come in and sit.” Xamura pressed her lips together and pointed to the empty space directly in front of her.
Aloes glanced around the room as he knelt on the ground, folding his legs underneath him. Small trinkets made of wood and iron were scattered neatly on the ground around the hut. He spotted a bayonet with a black blade covered in engravings. It had a black wooden handle. The black dagger and a copper compass sat to the left of Xamura. On her right was a wooden box with strange symbols carved on all four sides and some round stone objects with similar writing. A large red amulet hung around her neck and appeared to illuminate her face. The lanterns burned bright, their flames stretching towards the ceiling, casting shadows and lighting the hut in a sinister glow.
“Tell me what brings you to my village,” the necromancer asked. She wore a white silk robe draped over a linen chiton of the same color.
“I had a dream that a threat to my people was on the horizon,” Aloes answered, running his hand through his black hair.
“Night visions. I am burdened with those from time to time as well,” Xamura said.
Aloes took his time with each word. “Is there any truth to this vision?”
“Aloes Cardamone, your people are blessed with the gift of soul transmigration. It is a power that can interfere with my practices.” Aloes could feel her gaze upon him through her unseeing eyes. “But there is one whose powers exceed yours and threaten to surpass mine.”
“Tell me who he is, and I will take care of him,” Aloes said, his voice rising with emotion.
“She will not be stopped with the feeble efforts of your kind,” Xamura hissed.
“A woman?” Aloes mocked. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. No woman could pose any threat to his superior gifts.
“There is one way to stop her,” Xamura said, reaching for a white pouch, “but it calls for a sacrifice.”
“Anything. I will not be defeated,” Aloes replied.
“You know not what I will ask,” Xamura warned him.
“My people must survive, and their souls must continue to travel to remain immortal.” He would do what was necessary to defend his power. Immortality was his most precious possession.
“You must sacrifice yourself and your first-born son to the night. Upon doing so, your infinite souls will be trapped in one body for eternity. It will be an immortal body for all time,” Xamura said.
“I don’t understand. Pray tell what you mean?” Aloes asked, his tone cautious. He was trying not to upset the witch, but he needed to know more.
“The details are not important,” the witch chided as she lifted her hand to sprinkle a generous amount of black powder into the clay pot of water that sat on the ground between them. She pushed back the long sleeves of her silk robe as Aloes continued watching as she added, what he could only assume was mage bark to the pot. Mage bark came from the trunk of a mystical tree that Aloes had heard of but had never seen. He thought it was just a rumor that the rare tree existed.
Aloes considered his options. If he wanted to have the power to stop his enemy, his soul would remain for all eternity in his present body. His current form would be his last. There would be no time to take another, for after the soul leaves the body it could be three years, three decades, or three centuries for it to be transferred into a new body. It was at the discretion of Attis, the god of rebirth, how long the soul would remain in transition awaiting permission to awaken once more.
Xamura waited, tapping her slender fingers on her knees, as Aloes mulled over his decision. The old witch was over a century in age, but there was no evidence of her years on her smooth face.
“Yes, I will do what you ask. I will sacrifice myself and my first-born son.” Aloes pressed his lips together. He swallowed, his mouth suddenly feeling dry. He had made his choice.
“The spirits have warned that it is a deadly task you are undertaking, and many sacrifices will have to be made,” Xamura whispered, her eyelids fluttered, and Aloes prepared himself for the moment she would open them.
“What more will I have to give up?” Aloes wondered. Wasn’t his life and that of his future heir enough?
“I have not yet been privileged with that information.” Xamura opened her eyes and Aloes stared into her sightless gaze. Her eyes resembled opal gems and glowed white as the witch began reciting in an ancient language. Xamura chanted quietly as she lit a piece of parchment paper and placed the flame onto the liquid in the pot. Aloes watched in wonder as the flame wafted over the water but never touched it.
“Ostende mihi.” As the witch said the words, the flame fell into the water and a white smoke rose into the air creating a thin veil between Aloes and the necromancer.
A faint image of a young woman appeared in the smoke. Aloes strained his eyes to make the image come into focus. As he met the eyes of the phantasm of his enemy, Xamura snapped her fingers and the smoky veil fell into the pot of water.
“The one you seek has to be destroyed when she resides in her trienn
ial physical form,” the witch said. The soul travelers believed the third rebirth was the final reincarnation. Although, a few distinguished souls had no limits on the number of their transmigrations. “She too can move through the ages but possesses other powers as well. The spirits have seen into the future and they confirm that she will put an end to the Vaccaei travelers. Her soul is the direct descendant of the queen of her people, and she will stand against anyone who chooses evil over good,” Xamura said.
“Why must I wait? Can I not destroy her now?” Aloes grumbled. He wasn’t one to take orders from others.
“If you do it too soon, she will only return with a force deadlier than any you will ever encounter.” Xamura was growing agitated with Aloes’ constant questioning.
“Give me such a power as the one you speak of; I will destroy her.”
“You are a fool. You know not what you ask. I have examined your heart and you are not capable of such a power,” Xamura hissed.
The gravity of her words filled the air as Xamura fell silent and closed her eyes once more. Aloes held his breath, not knowing if she was still conscious, but then Xamura began to speak again.
“The change will occur when I decide the time has come. For now, you will return to your people and prepare to pay when I call,” Xamura said lifting her arm and motioning Aloes to the opening of the hut behind him.
Aloes turned his head and saw two large men standing at the entrance, their dark eyes fixed on Aloes as he slowly got to his feet. He glanced back at Xamura and his heart quickened when he found the hut empty.
The necromancer was gone, but she hadn’t left through the only doorway of the hut. The men, dressed in only a loincloth around their waist, still blocked the single opening. They stood with their arms crossed and shoulders pushed back, waiting on Aloes to move. A low grunt from one of the men alerted Aloes that he had overstayed his welcome. He glanced over his shoulder one last time to where Xamura should have been, and then he exited the hut. The men shifted only enough to allow Aloes to pass, their stares burning into his back as he walked away. He left the village and began the long journey back to Duero Valley.
Aloes contemplated all the witch had revealed to him as he trudged along the dirt path back to his home. As night fell, he stopped to rest near an old tree. His men, three of his most trusted warriors that had gone with him, hung back to stand guard while he slept, and at dawn, they continued their journey.
“There are some secrets which do not permit themselves to be told.”
~Edgar allan Poe
ONE
Havencrest, NJ 2015
I packed in total silence, immersed in my thoughts of how tomorrow would feel when I woke up alone for the first time in my life. Erica sat on her side of the room watching as I pulled shirts off hangers and folded them. I pushed my hair away from my face as I put my clothes into a brown duffle bag. It was the same old bag I had with me when I came to live at Havencrest Orphanage 18 years ago. Among the pile of clothing were books, journals, and an old photo of two small girls with their arms around each other’s shoulders and wide grins on their faces. I picked up the red plastic frame and stared at the picture. I wasn’t that little girl anymore, and yet not much had changed in the ten years since that photo had been taken.
“Do you remember when we took that?” Erica asked pointing to the photograph and breaking the silence.
I put the frame down and looked up at my roommate and best friend. Her chestnut brown eyes were wet with tears. She wiped them away as she came over to me and sat on the edge of my bed. I nodded and returned my attention to packing the rest of my things.
“It was the day Jessie got adopted and I had to get a new roommate. I was so happy when Ms. Whitaker told me I was moving into your room. I didn’t even care that Jessie got picked over me.” Erica smiled as tears slid down her cheeks.
I nodded again. What I remembered was forcing a smile on my face for the photographer Jessie’s new parents had hired to capture the celebration. He snapped the picture then I ran to my room. I pretended to have a stomach ache so that I didn’t have to see Jessie get what we all wanted; what I wanted more than anything in the world. Those adoption parties were harsh ordeals for the other children to endure. It was a cruel reminder that there was no one adopting us.
“I was actually relieved the people didn’t want me. You know why?” Erica asked.
I shook my head. Erica always fantasized about what her parents would be like. I couldn’t think of one reason anyone of us would rather stay at the orphanage than go home with a new family.
“It’s because you’re like my sister, and I couldn’t imagine living anywhere without you. That day was the best day ever.”
I didn’t know what to say. Every day for the past 18 years had been bad days for me, some worse than others. I’d always felt out of place at Havencrest Orphanage, like there was some other place I was supposed to be. I wanted to tell her that today was finally my celebration. A wonderful family wasn't adopting me, but I was finally leaving the orphanage. The worst part was having to say goodbye to my friends, but the not so bad part was getting to relocate to a new place.
“I can’t believe you’re really moving out.” Erica was on the edge of an emotional breakdown, her silent tears now becoming audible sobs.
She was my best friend, but I had to say goodbye to her and in a few short hours, I would leave behind the familiar but lonely life of an orphan. Leaving meant not having to share my personal space with anyone and it meant finding all the parts of myself I'd lost over the years, parts of me I didn't even know existed. But it also meant leaving my home and my friends. I’d spent the past month and a half since turning 18, preparing myself for this moment.
“You know I don’t want to go without you, but I can’t stay here, and I can’t take you with me.” I sat down next to Erica on the bed and put my arm over her shoulder just like she had done all those years ago at Jessie’s party, but this time neither one of us was smiling. “I’m considered an adult now, and the orphanage is for children.”
“I’m going to miss you so much.” Erica wrapped her arms around my neck and sobbed. My body went rigid as I tried to return the hug. I had hoped to avoid a long, emotional departure but I’d known Erica would want, as well as deserved the drawn-out farewell.
“I’ll keep in touch,” I said standing up and getting back to stuffing clothes into the bag.
“Promise?” Erica asked, running her hand through her brown hair. Some curled strands fell back down to the side of her face and she pushed them back again. She raised her eyebrows then drew them back down.
I was going to miss her large brown eyes and animated expressions. Her ability to get excited over the tiniest events like having chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast instead of cold cereal, made me laugh. I now realized I would miss her enthusiasm over every third Tuesday of the month when Frosty Ice Cream came to the home and she could buy all the chocolate ice cream cones she could afford. Ms. Whitaker allowed us to spend the money we earned from our laundry chores on ice cream. Some chores like cleaning our room and common rooms were mandatory and earned us our keep, but other chores like laundry and yard work paid actual cash. I didn't buy the ice cream, movie tickets, or new clothes. Instead, I watched the cable reruns and got my clothes from the donation closet. I saved my money for the day when I left Havencrest orphanage, and that day had finally arrived.
“I promise to call and write as often as I can,” I said.
I swept my glance around the bedroom as Erica wiped her nose with a tissue. The yellow and blue curtains clashed with the muted green color of the walls and the purple bed coverings. The gray dresser was empty now that I had removed all my personal items and put them in my bag. I looked out the window to the courtyard. A wave of nostalgia hit me, as I realized letting go wasn’t as easy as I had thought. I’d spent many warm days out there, sitting on the worn patio chairs and getting lost within the pages of countless books.
I let
out a deep sigh; there was no turning back though. I had made my decision and I was moving to Shadowmist. And if I didn’t go soon, I would miss the bus. Avoiding Erica’s saddened gaze, I grabbed my bag and walked out of the room.
“Bye Analey,” Erica whispered.
I opened my mouth to say something but there was nothing left to say, and Erica had already shut the door. I pushed back the feelings of guilt and made my way down the hall.
The orphanage was an old cathedral, renovated many years ago to accommodate the parentless children of Havencrest. It was during a time when the number of children in the home had almost doubled. No one could explain the influx of abandoned children needing a place to live, but by the time I reached my teenage years, I’d heard that most were a result of parents disappearing without a trace or dying unexpectedly. No one ever talked about how or why I ended up an orphan, and I didn’t ask. I knew my parents had abandoned their newborn infant and I came to live at Havencrest Orphanage as the renovations were completed. I had the sad notion that my mother and my father were still alive, living someplace far away from me. I didn’t care, or at least tried not to care that they had been so cold as to leave their daughter in the custody of the state. It was my tragic history, and I could change nothing by dwelling on the past.
I walked down the hallway where most of the original stained glass still adorned the windows at the ends of the corridor and framed portraits of the orphanage's contributors hung on the oak panel walls. The dark walls and wood floors were consistent throughout the church but some of the bedrooms were painted brown or another neutral color.
Most of the rooms, which were often filled with the voices and laughter of other children, were empty as breakfast was still being served in the dining hall. I was grateful for small miracles. The fewer goodbyes the better.
"Analey wait," a child's voice called after me. I turned and saw a small boy with red curly hair running towards me. In his hand, he clutched a tattered brown teddy bear with black buttons for eyes. Its original brown eyes had long since been torn off and replaced with the buttons.
Edge of Forever: The Death and Life of Analey Rose (The Immortal Souls Book 1) Page 1
