by Kade Cook
With the altering of her daughter’s seriousness toward her words, Sarapheane continues.
“A true Silver Mage was blessed with an abundance of gifts. They were able to manipulate Mother Earth’s elements; some of them even developed the ability to shift their physical form into the element of their choosing. For example, if the Mage manipulated fire, they could not only summon it, but their aura would change colour from silver into a shade of crimson while their body manifested into actual fire. This ability took many years to master, and many never ascended to this, but those who had were held high in the eyes of their people. It was a sign of a powerful Mage, not to mention a useful skill in times of conflict. This was true with all the elements—Fire, Water, Earth, Air—plus some had the gift to persuade things of a more interesting nature. With some it was the ability to read minds and interpret information in a telepathic manner where others were able to stretch and manipulate the Magik in the shadows, using it to transport themselves within the thin membrane between dimensions to aid in comradery or escape an adversary. And others still that could draw in and relinquish the energy of those around them.”
No longer scoffing at her mother’s so-called fairytale, Gabrian stares blankly at her mother. Chewing hungrily on the tips of her fingers, she ravages what is left of her nails. Her head swims with these new and overwhelming truths being told to her. Unsure of whether or not she should interrupt her mother with questions, she resolves to remain silent and gather in as much information as possible.
“With the integration of human blood into the Realm, the offspring of the Silver Mages that was once parented by a pure silver bloodline had become diluted with mere human blood. Often the children of these mixed couples would take on different, more prominent characteristics of the Mage’s gifts, thus eliminating others, much like that of Charles Darwin’s theory of Natural Selection that you studied in school. The creation of different bloodlines had evolved into different, more specific gifts in the Realm, and with it came the need for the classification of different Fellowships.”
Studying her daughter’s reactions and trying to determine whether or not her truths are sifting through to Gabrian’s psychological primal instincts, Sarapheane pauses for a moment and wonders if she is doing nothing more than confusing her.
“Are you all right, Gabrian? Would you like me to stop or shall I continue?”
Now that the reality of her recent ‘nightmare’ has been somewhat confirmed, she decides the only logical thing to do is to sit and listen to whatever it is that her mother wants to tell her. However demented and deranged this story seems to be, it is the only thing in her present life that appears to have any validity to it—especially now.
“Yes, go on, Mom.” Her voice wavers, revealing her internal struggle. She pushes her body from the chair and staggers to the kitchen. Grabbing the coffee pot, she returns to refill their cups. “Tell me about the…Fellowships?” she says in question.
Sitting back down, she pours the remainder of the pot, splitting it evenly between the two cups in front of her. Gabrian reaches behind and pulls on the pink-and-green-checkered blanket sitting on top of the wooden chest beside her. She wraps it around her upper torso then settles back into her chair, hoping it will bring her some comfort.
Pleased that Gabrian is not in total refusal of what she hears—and has not run for the door yet—Sarapheane picks up her cup and sips its contents before she begins again.
“The Fellowships are basically family groups that share the same gifts or traits, if you will. As I mentioned before, due to the human blood intertwined with the Silver Mages’ blood, the bloodlines are no longer pure. It had become diluted or infused by whatever strengths or weaknesses each species had to contribute. To my knowledge, there are roughly ten Fellowships in the Realm, each consisting of ten unique forms of gifts.”
“Were the people not upset at being classified?” Gabrian sits up a bit, trying to contribute to the story, unsure of whether or not she even wanted the answer.
“At first, maybe, but as time went on and the numbers in each Fellowship grew, it became easier for the people of the Realm to just separate by abilities in order to properly educate and train their children. They were only separated in abilities, not as a people.”
Her daughter’s attempt to try and involve herself allows Sarapheane a glimmer of hope. If she can manage to gently introduce her into the workings of the Realm, she may be able to make Gabrian’s transition into her new world a little less terrifying for her.
“Okay, where to begin?” Sarapheane smiles encouragingly while she contemplates which Fellowship description to start with. Deciding that the primary elemental Fellowships would be best, she begins her clarification of their differences. “Well, let me see...first there is the Fellowship of Zephyr. It is the gift of the Air element. They have the ability to move and bend particles that make up air as we know it. Some of the more powerful Mages are able to create portals which allow them to move from one place to another in mere seconds. While most Zephyr are kind and gentle, they are very dangerous as well. Considering that most living things on this Earth are dependent on oxygen, the Mages’ ability to deplete the entirety of air from a space renders almost all hopelessly defenseless.”
At the mention of the word Zephyr, Gabrian’s mind digs wildly through memories to rest upon the fiasco that transpired at her apartment and the tall crazy lady that stood within the midst of it. She recalls Rachael stating something about her being from there. Her heart flutters at the immediate realization that escaping from that night’s events may have been just the beginning of a whole new world of nightmares for her.
With her mind racing—trying to keep this new strange reality straight in her head—she turns to stare blankly at the fireplace, her bluish-grey eyes transfix themselves to the pieces of red burning embers buried within the ashes.
Sarapheane watches Gabrian’s movements carefully. With no definite signs threatening her retreat, she continues.
“The Fellowship of Egni, the gifted of the Fire element, can summon the power of fire and manipulate how it will behave. I believe that the legends surrounding that of the Phoenix derived from this Fellowship.
“Then there is Hydor. This is a Water element Fellowship. They, much like the Greek God, Poseidon, that you also studied in school, can control and manipulate water. Even the smallest amount of moisture in the air can be manipulated by them. Most members of this Fellowship stay close to the ocean or some type of body of water as it is in their nature to be more content there.”
Thinking of her current surroundings, her eyes jump toward the window of her parent’s home. Observing the glimmer of sunlight dancing carelessly on the surface of the ocean barely fifty feet on the other side of her parents’ lawn, she begins to wonder if their location and this story have anything to do with one another. Are they from the Realm? Is she and her family water Mages? Even if they are, and she feels incredibly absurd to even fathom the consideration of this, the water traits that her mom describes to her do not match any of the peculiars that she has experienced. Interest in the history of the Fellowships starts to consume her. Leaning in towards her storyteller, Gabrian hugs her knees—resting her mug within her cupped hands just atop her feet, and soundlessly listens with intent.
“The Eorden are the Earth element Fellowship. They are mainly a healing and peaceful Fellowship. The people work as the herbalists and natural healers that we call homeopathic physicians. But they also use the energies within the earth, trees, flowers, and such that allow them to contend with forces that oppose them. Most of the displays of nature, such as earthquakes, landslides, or events equivalent to that are acts of Mother Nature herself—the Eorden can cause them as well. Maybe not to the degree that Mother Earth herself can perform, but they are not to be denied their due. And like any faction, there are some of whom that display the rare ability to communicate with nature’s other living creations.”
Partly due to the shock that thi
s somehow is true and partly to the image of a certain comedian’s face entering her mind, she bursts out laughing. “You mean they are a bunch of Dr. Doo Littles but with Magikal powers.”
Her mother giggles with her. “Yes, sort of.”
Gabrian chuckles again, running her hands through her hair, pulling it over to one side, and nods in appreciation to the humor that she has miraculously found in all of this. She sips her drink and cathartically traces the bumpy designs of the cup over and over with her fingers. “Of course they are—why wouldn’t they be?”
Sarapheane lends a sympathetic ear to Gabrian’s reactions. All her life, Gabrian has tried to live in the ‘real’ world, determined that she would find every answer to every question. But she does not think these are quite the answers that Gabrian had in mind when she went looking.
Getting up from her chair to stretch her legs, Sarapheane drifts toward the large windows in front of them. She gazes out across the horizon at vast and endless sea. She loves the way the morning sun creates the illusion of diamonds upon the water that dance and sparkle just on the surface. She smiles, humbled by the beauty of her favourite time of day.
“The Isa fellowship is a branch from that of the Hydor Fellowship. It is of the water element gift but its Mages manipulate the water in a different way. Not only can they manipulate its mannerisms but can alter its existing form from a liquid into that of ice and snow. It is a spectacular and beautiful gift that can quickly become as equally dangerous. Now we come to the other Fellowships that are…well, less elemental,” Sarapheane continues, taking a deep breath.
“What do you mean, ‘less elemental?’” Gabrian perks up, curious as to where this topic might lead.
Peeking over her shoulder, her face lightens at the sight of her daughter’s inquisitive eyes. Gabrian’s interest has increased, and her wanting to jest has almost depleted.
“They are exceptions. Their gifts display more of the interesting attributes to the Silver Mage bloodline.”
Gabrian tilts her head, furrowing her brow in reaction to Sarapheane’s words. She feels that somehow the Fellowships her mother has already mentioned were more run of the mill than the gifts that she is about to explain.
The embers spark and crackle loudly in the fireplace, giving Gabrian a bit of a start. Normally the noise would not have registered with her, but her mother’s early morning, scary bedtime story seems to have her a tad rattled—visions of people made of fire and ice while conversing with earthly beasts that moved with the wind, dance freely within her thoughts—clouding her mind.
“Would you like me to make some more coffee?”
Not fully able to comprehend, nor finding the ability to compartmentalize, her mind is in neutral, spinning but not in gear. Gabrian can hear the tone of her mom’s voice, but she is incapable of making out any of the words she says. They echo hollowly at first then cut through the delirium of the free-flowing data overload. Gabrian is caught somewhere within the void. Her head turns in the direction of the noise, and her eyes rest blankly on her mother’s. Finally, the lights in her eyes ignite as she registers that she is being spoken to.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“I said, would you –”
“Coffee. More of it, right. Yes, please,” she answers. Gabrian’s face is long and flat, unanimated as the wheels and cogs turn within her mind. She floats in neutral—feeling the level of mental absorption nearly reaching its maximum point—but she estimates that in all probability there is still a long way to go in this chat with her mom and caffeine may be a necessity in order to keep her brain from completely shutting down on her.
Sarapheane smiles and shakes her head. She adds more grounds to the coffee press then fills it with hot water. Inserting the top of the press and grabbing the cream, she heads back down to the sitting room and places them on the table in front of Gabrian. Gabrian happily concocts her elixir within her cup and awaits her mother’s continuation of where she left off.
“Now where was I? Oh yes…the more unique Fellowships.” Sarapheane pours herself a new cup now that Gabrian has finished with the press. “First, I shall begin with the Vindere Fellowship, Reincarnates or Mediums—a term that maybe you are more familiar with. They are like the windows between souls in the Realm.”
“Okay, this seems a little more believable to me,” Gabrian snuffs. “So these Mediums, are they the same kind of loons that are advertised on TV all the time or that have little shops set up in the city? That seems a little Hollywood to me.”
“A lot of them are one in the same, but some of them are a little more shameless than others.” Sarapheane smiles. “Recognizing that many humans are easily manipulated, they use their ability to read people in order to make a living. More powerful Mediums can sometimes catch glimpses of a person’s subconscious and those glimpses makes it seem like they are actually seeing things from their future or the past. But most are more humble and go through life less pronounced, aiding the Mages when need be. They are an important part in keeping the communications within the Realm open and functioning.”
Sarapheane takes the opportunity to connect Gabrian’s former ‘human’ life to the new world she is being introduced to.
“Have you ever noticed Rachael’s extraordinary talent to handle people? Or perhaps you may have noticed from time to time moments where she seems to space out on you?”
Gabrian thinks back over the years since she has known Rachael and recalls some instances where Rachael had seemed like she was not truly there.
“Now that you mention it, yes. She does do that sometimes. And sometimes when she speaks, it seemed as if it was not actually her saying the words.” Curious about this revelation, Gabrian furthers her inquiry. “Do these Mages ever use the Mediums to speak through? I mean, use their body and mouths to communicate like those TV advertised Mediums that swear they were possessed by a spirit?”
“Yes, they have the ability to connect with a Mage and allow them to utilize their body as a vehicle in order to communicate to others,” Sarapheane confirms. “They also have the ability to block communication as well, like an on-off switch so to speak. Whom they allow access to, and whom they do not is entirely up to them.”
Staring off into the distance, Gabrian’s focus jumps around the room, her mind racing again. Her mouth droops at the edges as she chews on her bottom lip, grasping the fact that her lifelong and trusted friend is not who she had believed her to be. Understanding Rachael’s want to keep her true identity hidden, the bite of betrayal stings bitterly beneath it all as she wonders how many eyes have observed her within the deceptive cloak of friendship. There is a prolonged moment of silence as Sarapheane pauses to let Gabrian process this new understanding of who her friend is. Once her eyes clear, Sarapheane continues.
“The Vindere also have the ability to reincarnate,” Sarapheane continues, tucking a lock of her long dark hair behind her ear.
Gabrian retreats from her bout of disheartenment to gather the added information. “How do you mean?”
“Every Vindere folk will walk amongst the people of this world for a set number of years. It can be as little as a single lifetime before their soul is transferred from their particular vessel to another dimension or it can entail a long and adjoined life, being reintroduced to each new vessel by rebirth for hundreds of years. Each Vindere has its own journey and road to travel.”
Gabrian swivels her head to gaze upon her mother, her eyes brighten in revelation of this concept and pushes off her momentary sullenness to adhere to her curiosity instead. She has always been fascinated by the possibility of a continued soul but until now has had little to no proof that it was possible.
“You mean that Rachael could be hundreds of years old?”
“That is exactly what I am saying.”
“Is she?”
“That is a question that only she can answer. It is not my place to disclose her true age. You must ask her yourself.”
“Oh,” Gabrian sa
ys, not knowing what else to say.
“Another of the more unique Fellowships is the Derkaz. This is the Darkness Fellowship. These Mages have the ability to control, or for a better word, contain all the things that go bump in the night.”
“Umm, what do you mean by that exactly?” Gabrian gasps sitting herself upright and clutching at the throw, pulling it closer—building an imaginary impenetrable shield between herself and the ‘things.’ Growing up, many little children seem to be afraid of the dark—at least she knows she was. If what her mother is telling her to be the truth, then maybe the scary things that she imagined as a child were actually real. “I am definitely going to need you to clarify that a little more for me please or I will never sleep again.”
Remembering well her daughter’s restless sleeping habits as a child, she is certain that Gabrian will no doubt have a few sleepless nights after today’s little life lesson. Sarapheane tries to paint the best picture she can in order to explain what she means.
“There are beings called the ‘Keepers of Erebus’ or simply Gargons. They are an entity all of their own. As long as there has been life, there have been Gargons.
“For the most part they are harmless and do not interfere with everyday life or bother anyone, but if a being becomes weak or hurt, they will sense it and seek it out. Once they find it, the creatures release a vaporous toxin that is inhaled by the victim. It induces a delirium over the dying and renders them helpless and confused. The Gargons then slither to the surface through the dark shroud beneath and intertwine their own essence to the remaining fragments of life held by its captive. Once attached, they pull and tear away at the essence of a being until it is striped clean and the body is dead, then the soul is carried down into the Darkness.”
Gabrian’s eyes widen and all signs of colour drain from her flesh at her mother’s description. “Into the Darkness…as in the darkness of night, darkness?”
Sarapheane smiles at Gabrian’s misunderstanding of her words.
