The Prophecy (Children of the River Book 1)

by Ren Curylo

  “I know,” Anoba exclaimed. “And another thing, Éadóchas and Ochón are expecting a baby, too, and they’d like for you to perform a naming ceremony for them after the birth.”

  “Me?” Ársa looked stricken. “Why me?”

  Anoba laughed. “As I said before, you’re our fearless leader,” she said. “They just don’t know you are vulnerable to puke and poop.”

  “Phfft,” he said, though he looked at her skeptically. “Of course I’ll do it, and I guess it’s a good thing they are breeding.”

  “You’ll need to do it soon, I expect, because she is due in Devexus, and that’s only four months away.”

  “I’ll speak to them tomorrow,” Ársa said.

  “That’s not all I came to tell you,” she said, deciding to swing the conversation around to the real reason she came to see her brother. She remembered now, why she had come here. She drained her Apple Fizz and held her glass out for more. It would take at least two more for her to feel the least effects from it.

  “Why do your words give me a feeling of foreboding, sister?”

  Anoba smiled. “I’m not sure they should, Ársa, but this next part is serious. I think we should take it seriously.”

  “That doesn’t alleviate the feeling any,” he said drily.

  “I received a visit tonight, as I have many nights lately,” she said, tentatively broaching the subject that she now fully and clearly remembered.

  “From?” Ársa asked, with a jet-black eyebrow cocked upward.

  “Our mother,” Anoba said quietly, watching his face for a reaction over the rim of her glass. His shock and surprise were what she expected. She sipped her Apple Fizz before she continued. “She came to me, you may call it a dream, but I call it a vision or a visitation. It was real, Ársa, I am sure of it. It cannot be a dream, it wasn’t a dream.”

  “All right,” Ársa said with a slight nod of his head. Reserving his judgment, he remained quiet as he refilled his glass. He took a sip and sat down where he could watch her as she spoke.

  “She said she had a prophecy for me. She said we needed to pay heed and take care that certain things happen. She said we need to watch out for a faction who will create problems many centuries from now.”

  “Who?” he asked.

  “I think both of us know which faction is likely to be a problem.”

  “Hermolaos,” he said.

  “Yes,” Anoba said. “She told me about a race of people she called the Narcene.”

  “I’ve never heard of them,” he said. “They didn’t come with us.”

  “No,” Anoba said with a shake of her head. “We, apparently, are creating them here. Mother said they are ‘the children of the gods’.”

  “Gods?” Ársa said almost explosively. “She’s not starting that shit, is she? I can’t believe all these idiots running about calling us gods. We’re not gods. I don’t want them worshipping us. Why, it’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. The idiots who destroyed our old world weren’t even dumb enough to believe themselves gods. Overall, I prefer their slurs of Recoms to gods.”

  Anoba looked at him calmly, letting him run himself out of words and emotions. After he settled down, she spoke quietly. “Ársa, just because we don’t like it, doesn’t negate the fact that it’s happening. These people on Lerien, they need something to believe in. We brought them here, we have powers that they don’t have and we can alleviate their suffering to a large degree. It is inevitable and natural that they would view us as gods. We need to take that responsibility seriously and treat them with care.”

  “I don’t like it,” he said. “We all know we aren’t gods. Some of us aren’t even nice people.”

  Anoba smiled. “Ársa, let them have their faith. Stop fighting against it.”

  “I would prefer the old slur the human gave us millennia ago,” he said. “Being called a Recom is preferable to a god.”

  “At least being called a Recombinant had a basis in fact, even if they did mean it as an insult,” Anoba agreed. “Things got so ugly in the beginning when it was first used.”

  “I see it being problematic when we start believing in titles like those. When we start believing we are gods, that’s when the shit starts to fly. It’s not going to end well.”

  Anoba shook her head. “It may not end well. In fact, that’s the warning Mother gave me. She said that this other faction among us would eventually try to destroy all we’ve built here. We both know who they are. They stopped us from creating an advanced colony here from the beginning. We cannot allow them to destroy what we’ve worked so hard to build. That’s why she came to me.”

  “When is this going to be?”

  “Many, many centuries from now,” Anoba said. “Mother said we are to do nothing to stop them before the time is right. But, we must prepare for that war.”

  “War?” Ársa asked with a troubled and disbelieving tone.

  “Yes, that’s what she called it. She said it would be a war not only between the factions among our Envoy, but also between that opposing faction and the Narcene.”

  “You need to give me more information about these Narcene.”

  “They are, as I said before we got sidetracked, the children of the gods. Our children, Ársa, our children with the mortals.”

  Ársa looked confused.

  “Several mortal women on Lerien have turned up pregnant and they have said it was the result of having sex with the gods. At first, I dismissed it, thinking it’s impossible. For us, among ourselves, Ársa, we have to have the full consent of both parties at the same time for conception to take place. It was one of the most freeing and progressive advances we made in our medical science in the old world. I think it is more important than our immortality. Can you imagine being a female and knowing you’ll live forever and have to bear countless unwanted children? It’s a terrible, never- ending life sentence.”

  “And we know that abstinence is a miserable failure, even among our own kind. The mortals don’t have any hope of accomplishing it. We didn’t give them any alternative because they must multiply if their species is to survive.”

  “Exactly, but we need to make sound decisions for ourselves. Once this place is fully established, we should meet and discuss giving them contraception.”

  “That,” Ársa said, “is many centuries from now, as you said. I can already see that some places are advancing faster than others are. We will need to keep a vigilant eye on them for many years.”

  “I agree, but back to the Narcene,” Anoba said. “We need to take special care of these people, Mother said. We need to make certain that they survive. For now, she said we need to leave them with their mortal parents until we see how they develop and progress; how they age, and how they interact with their environment.”

  “It stands to reason they would be genetically different from their mortal parents. They likely will inherit some of our traits, abilities, and powers as well. Very well, we shall watch these Narcene. If at any time, it becomes too dangerous for either species to coexist, we’ll make a new and separate home for them.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that. Mother was adamant that we do exactly that. She said it wouldn’t matter if we wait and see, but when the time comes, we must make them a home.”

  “All right,” Ársa said. “I’ll tell my trustees on the Envoy to watch over them.”

  “Another thing, Ársa, well, actually, a couple more things,” Anoba said. She sat quietly for a while, sipping her Apple Fizz. She was reluctant to speak of the next part of her mother’s prophecy. She wasn’t at all sure what she thought of it.

  “All right,” Ársa said.

  Anoba raised her dark greenish-black eyes to meet his bright blue gaze. Even as his sister, she could see the beauty in him. While her features looked similar to his, her coloration had mutated beyond anything that natural genetics offered. “How I miss having eyes the color of yours look at me when I pass a mirror, Ársa,” she said passionately as if she couldn’t
hold the words back.

  Ársa took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I find your exotic beauty quite charming, Anoba,” he said.

  “It’s kind of you to say so, and considering Mother’s prophecy, it would make my life easier if other people find it so as well.”

  “That’s intriguing. What did she say?”

  “Apparently, we are no longer forbidden to breed with the mortals, Ársa,” she said fatalistically. “And that includes me. You know how I’ve always felt about that. She’s given me a list of names that will be important in the future. I have it, here,” she said, pointing to her temple with her right hand. “At first, I added it to my gan-sreang, but considering what she said about the rift among your Envoy, I didn’t want it to fall into the wrong hands. I figured it was safer in my head than anywhere, in case our faction split is more dangerous for us than we think. As long as you or one of us is in control, we will be fine, but if they ever seize power, it could be a problem.”

  “Are you sure about this?” Ársa asked, sounding quite confused and skeptical.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Every single one?”

  “Well, not all of them from me personally,” Anoba said. “Some of them will be yours.”

  “That is distressing news,” Ársa said.

  “I am not happy about it. I’m sure you’re aware that I have never wanted children.”

  “Nor have I,” he said, “and I considered it a good thing not to reproduce. I’m sorry, Anoba. I think this comes as a shock and it’s certainly not a part of this mission that I ever anticipated.”

  “If had known about this development, I would have likely taken a different position.”

  “I need you, Anoba; you are far too valuable to me for anyone to take your place.”

  “Mother said that these descendants among the Narcene shall be called Children of the River. We must protect them, and continue with the bloodlines. According to Mother, it excludes no humanoid race or species, even the immortals.”

  “Do you believe her? This could all be a Faerie tale, you know, or perhaps a hallucination or something.”

  Anoba shook her head. “No, I believe every word. She showed me a vision of what will happen if we don’t foster and nurture this race. Many of us will also breed with this new race, Ársa. Many members of your Envoy will do so, including you and your offspring, so it isn’t only me. And speaking of Faerie tales…”

  Ársa looked at her sharply.

  Anoba drained her glass and set it on his nightstand. “Mother said you’re having an affair with a Fae woman, one of the Lilitu tribe.”

  Ársa frowned. “How did she know?” he asked.

  Anoba shook her head. “I have no idea. The first I heard of it was when Mother told me, and until I saw your reaction just now, I had no idea that it was true.”

  Ársa shook his head again, confusion playing across his face. “I don’t understand any of this,” he said.

  Anoba shook her head, too. “I don’t either, brother, but I believe her. She knows too many things, and the things she showed me felt real. She cautioned against us making things worse by confronting anyone and directly causing the split among us ourselves. She said in other generations, opportunities would come to create alliances between these other factions…”

  “Just how many ‘factions’ are we dealing with here?”

  “I don’t know, but we know there are at least two among us here on Na Réaltaí. If the Narcene count, that’s a third. What about the Fae and other immortals? They bring the total way up if all those count as separate factions.”

  “This is a lot to take in at one time,” Ársa said.

  “I think she wanted to stress that perhaps a coalition between us and the Narcene and maybe even the humans and Fae could be beneficial for our future.”

  “I think it’s going to take a long time for any of this to make any clear sense.”

  “Luckily we have a lot of time, Ársa,” Anoba said with a grin. “But anyway, back to the Fae woman you’re screwing.”

  “That’s fairly callous of you, dear sister,” Ársa said.

  “Are you saying you love her?”

  “Aye,” Ársa said, “I do love her. I respect her. I care about her.”

  “What of Moriko?”

  “I love Moriko more than I love my next breath, Anoba, but she has repeatedly made it clear that I am not for her. She won’t relent in the least.”

  “She’s afraid of being hurt,” Anoba said. “You have to convince her somehow, Ársa. She would make a perfect match for you; she would be the best choice for someone to rule beside you.”

  “I have yet to find an argument that will win her over.”

  “I think you’re going to have to prove yourself to her in the manner that matters most to her.”

  “I don’t know how to do that.”

  “There’s something Mother said to me that’s troubling, Ársa,” Anoba said, trying to pull more memory out of obscurity.

  “What’s that?”

  “Well,” she said, “I didn’t get to hear all of what she said, because she started fading away and there was some kind of interference that kept me from hearing her clearly, and I can’t be certain that what I thought I heard is what she said.”

  “What do you think she said?”

  “At one point, she said that there are things we should not take for granted. When something is meant to be, it’s going to happen whether we want it to or not.”

  “Okay,” Ársa said. “In regard to what, though?”

  Anoba shook her head. “That’s the part that leaves me perplexed. That’s where the interference started and I can’t be sure but I had the distinct impression that she was speaking about conception and pregnancies.”

  “That makes no sense.”

  Anoba shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. I guess we’ll see what comes of it.”

  “When did she tell you this?”

  “On a visit a couple of weeks ago.”

  “And you didn’t get a chance to ask her to clarify?”

  “No, every time I tried the static rose to a pitch that was downright painful. My ears ring at the thought of it. It fairly made our hair stand on end. And it does it every time I’ve tried to get clarity on the matter.”

  “We know that we have complete control of conception, so I don’t know how it becomes an issue. What is there about us that could change to accommodate such a thing? All that came about during The Alteration and we certainly are not going back.”

  “The Fae were included in her list of creatures that form this new race,” Anoba said. “It’s not only humans, you know.”

  “How is that supposed to work? Is it like between the folks here where they have to both be consenting?”

  Anoba shrugged. “Maybe, honestly, I don’t know. No race mixing between the Fae and us has ever happened. Most of the people among us didn’t believe in them anyway. Why, you saw how Commander acted when you brought it up. Everyone who saw them when they started showing up for SSP was amazed that it was true. I think they thought you had flipped your lid.”

  “I never gave this sort of thing much thought. Having sex and conceiving have been successfully separated for so long now, to learn how it used to be for us would take going back into ancient history and researching. I assume it was much like it was for humans.”

  Anoba shook her head. “I think most of us began as humans, Ársa, so therefore the same physics would apply. As far as conceiving with us, no consent is required from the mortals. We can impregnate them at our whim—or be impregnated by them, for our females.”

  “What do you think she was trying to tell you about all this? It seems as if we still have the same power over it that we always had.”

  “My impression is that even if we don’t set out to have a child, it will still happen if it’s required of The Prophecy. Even without our consent.”

  “I don’t like that,” Ársa said looking horrified.

  “M
aybe I’m wrong. I hope I’m wrong. I guess time will tell.”

  “I guess,” Ársa said skeptically.

  “I must tell you that I wondered about all this and thought maybe it was some disjointed declaration from Mother, but she told me about it right after she told me about the Fae being included in with the Narcene. Then she told me you were having an affair with a Lilitu. Do you think there’s a correlation?”

  “I had never planned on having children with Adamen. Actually, I didn’t know it was possible. Adamen has never expressed a desire to have children, either.”

  Anoba said, “Maybe we’ll find out what Mother meant sooner rather than later.”

  “Are you trying to jinx me, Anoba?”

  “No, but I do think you’re playing with fire courting both Adamen and Moriko. I thought it was interesting that Mother mentioned it at the same time. They probably aren’t related, Ársa.”

  “You and Mother have me worried. Such a prediction takes some of the fun out of it, you know. Thanks for the help, damn you both,” Ársa said.

  Anoba laughed. It sounded lighthearted and young.

  “It’s been a long time since I heard you sound like that, Anoba.”

  “Like what?”

  “Carefree, happy. It’s nice to hear it. For so many centuries, everything has been about the greater good for us both. I hope we’ll have a chance to relax a bit and seek some enjoyment for ourselves.”

  “From the sounds of it, if Mother’s future is anything to go by, I don’t think relaxation is in the stars for us.”

  “That’s part of the reason I love being with both Moriko and Adamen. They are free spirited and neither of them expects anything of me. For all her claims that I will never meet her expectations, Moriko doesn’t make any demands.

  “Don’t you know what she’s afraid of?”

  Ársa shook his head.

  “She’s afraid to commit to you because she’s loyal, fiercely so, and almost to a fault. She’s afraid that you aren’t nearly so loyal and you’ll break her heart. She is afraid, my dear brother, that you will claim her heart and tell her you’ll be hers alone, and then you’ll go off and do exactly what you’re doing with Adamen.”

  “I’m only with Adamen because Moriko won’t have me. Don’t get me wrong, I care for Adamen, but she attracts me because she reminds me of Moriko in so many ways. They are both fiercely independent and adventurous. Adamen was willing to take the risk of intimacy and something held Moriko back.”