The Covenant of Shadows Collection

by Kade Cook

  “Ah, I am sure you will do just fine,” Jarrison assures him. “You turned out all right!” Jarrison gives him a light punch to the shoulder that would have knocked a normal-sized person over, but Tynan barely moves.

  “Yeah, but I had a better Mentor than he does,” he says.

  “Do not sell yourself short,” Sarapheane pipes in as Tynan turns to go.

  Tynan’s face blushes at her words but no one notices since he faces the other way. He stops for a second before he reaches for the handle of the kitchen door. He turns his head slightly to the right then peeks back at Sarapheane and Jarrison with a mischievous smile. Both of their faces go flat as they look at each other then back to Tynan. He wouldn’t! they both think simultaneously. Tynan slips his fingers into the shadow that hangs to the right of the pantry door and pulls it around his large body, disappearing into the Darkness of the Veil.

  Being a logical thinker since the day she was able to speak, Gabrian’s brain absolutely refuses to trust what her eyes just witnessed. Her mouth hangs open, and her pupils dilate, watering as she stares at the empty space that her uncle Tynan had just stood in a second ago, searching for some logical explanation as to how he disappeared. She slowly turns and stares at her parents—dewy-eyed and open-jawed—her arms bend upward in front of her, displaying questioning widespread fingers, completely horrified.

  Jarrison and Sarapheane glance at each other in disbelief.

  Tynan had spoken to them earlier, while Gabrian was resting, and told them that he believes her training should begin immediately. To him, this was the easiest way to kick start her brain into accepting the incomprehensible. His philosophy always was ‘Trial by Fire’ and they realize that like it or not, he may be right.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Monsters Under the Bed

  FEELING HER LEGS give out underneath her, Gabrian is unable to do anything about it. She falls in slow motion—fully aware of what is happening around her—but her arms and legs will not work. Luckily, she drops straight down, landing on the kitchen mat that her mother kept in the middle of the floor to keep from slipping on the polished stone tile.

  Reaching out as quickly as they can, Jarrison and Sarapheane try to catch her but fail to get to her before she hits the floor. Kneeling beside her, hoping she is okay, their hearts weep from the empty, faraway stare that their daughter wears on her face. In a low monotone voice Gabrian speaks. “It was all real wasn’t it.”

  Sarapheane looks at Jarrison quickly. He shrugs his shoulders slightly and shakes his head in a negative way, unable to understand what Gabrian is saying.

  “I am sorry, honey, I did not hear you. What did you say?” Sarapheane whispers.

  In a louder, more lethargic voice she repeats herself. “It was all real.”

  Jarrison and Sarapheane struggle to find the right way to tell her and begin speaking at the same time, stumbling with the words. “It is not that...” her father tries to start.

  “We did not intend for you…” Sarapheane fumbles.

  Gabrian interrupts them, still looking lost. “The monsters I used to hear under my bed at night when I was sick,” she says with conviction, not listening to her parents at all. “The things and people I used to see in the shadows when I was alone. All the scary childhood monsters that I hid from under my covers at night, they were all real, were they not?” Gabrian drifts back to childhood, remembering the handsome young man that used to come and talk with her when she would wander out of the house at night to play at the edge of the gate. He had seemed so real to her. Although her parents told her he wasn’t. That he was just a figment of her overactive imagination. Ayden...he was real.

  Understanding that there is no reason to lie to her anymore, they both say, “Yes!” Jarrison and Sarapheane reach for each other and join hands, gently squeezing them—feeling a bit of relief from admitting the small fragment of truth. Knowing that they have a long few days ahead of them in order to help her understand everything she needs to know, they smile compassionately at Gabrian.

  Jarrison lets go of Sarapheane and reaches out to Gabrian with his hands and scoops her up into his strong arms. She falls into him like she did when she was a child, desperate for comfort. He carries her to the sitting room and sets her in the chair by the fireplace where she and her mother had sat earlier that day. A sense of dread overtakes her, but Gabrian knows there is no escape from what she is about to learn.

  Sarapheane follows behind and sits down in the chair beside Gabrian, handing her a coffee—an indication that this may be a long night. Her father grabs a chair from the corner and sets it beside Sarapheane, directly across from her.

  Not able to take any more of the staring, Gabrian speaks, breaking the silence. “Is Uncle Ty some kind of monster?”

  Both Jarrison and Sarapheane giggle at the question thinking that her Uncle Tynan would have gotten a kick out of hearing it. “No, dear. Not quite,” her mother begins. “Do you remember me telling you about the different Fellowships this morning before you got your headache?”

  “Yes, I remember. You said that because the human blood was mixed with Mage blood, it sometimes caused the children to have qualities unique from their parents,” Gabrian reiterated, trying to remember all the different Fellowships her mom had mentioned.

  “Exactly,” Sarapheane retorts. “Do you remember what I told you about the Schaeduwe Fellowship?” Watching her daughter’s face twist from the question, she tries to jog her memory for her. “The Shadow Walkers.”

  Seeing lights go on inside Gabrian’s mind, she knows she must have remembered. “So you are telling me Uncle Ty is a Shadow Walker?” Gabrian asks.

  “Yes,” her dad answers, nodding his head slowly as he gives her a kind smile.

  Remembering that her mother used the word ‘we’ instead of the word ‘they’ this morning when describing the Shadow Walkers, she looks at her mom and asks. “And since Uncle Ty is one, does that make you and Dad, Shadow Walkers?” Feeling her whole body tensing up unconsciously from the question, she sits stiffly waiting for the answer.

  “Your father and I are from the Schaeduwe Fellowship but from different families,” Sarapheane says, dreading the question that is going to be asked next.

  “But that does not make sense.” Gabrian’s face twists again as she tries to put everything together. “Before I came here, I experienced some unusual things but none of them are even close to being attributes of what you described about Shadow Walkers.” Jarrison and Sarapheane give each other a glance, and Gabrian swears she heard them say the word ‘adopted.’

  The reality of adoption was never even a thought to her, ever. She does not resemble her parents identically, no, but what child does? She still had the dark hair like them, she was quite dainty and feminine-looking like her mom, and her skin was only a few shades lighter than her parents. She had no reason to ever consider it but now, she just might.

  “You are telling me that I am adopted?” She stares blankly at them, her voice cracking.

  “We did not say that out loud, Sarah,” Jarrison says. “She must have read one of our minds.”

  “She is finding herself quickly,” Sarapheane utters to Jarrison.

  “Excuse me!” Gabrian yells as large ridges form at the top of her nose, volleying her eyes back and forth between the two. “I am right here, please do not talk about me like I am not in the same room with you. Am I or am I not, adopted?”

  A new revelation hits Gabrian like a hammer. “What a minute, did you say read your mind?” Her hands tremble, and she is barely able to hold onto the cup in her grip. She feels like her whole world is crumbling before her. Trying to find a way to deal with the notion of being different from others is one thing but resting on the cusp of realizing that her entire life has been nothing but a lie, she can barely breathe. Feeling drained, she instinctively begins to seek out an energy source to draw from.

  “Gabrian, honey, please calm down.” Seeing Gabrian’s pupils dilate, her aura flares up, fi
nally making its appearance—jetting out in search of sustenance. Finding nothing, she becomes confused and upset. Jarrison quickly jumps up and runs to the kitchen. Sarapheane realizes that Tynan is right. If Gabrian does not learn who she is and how to control her gifts, she could cause a lot of misery for everyone that comes in contact with her.

  Returning from the kitchen with a lemon in one hand and a knife in the other, Jarrison slices the lemon into two pieces, holding one piece up to Gabrian’s nose and gently rests his hand on her arm, causing her vision to go dim.

  The lemon scent is a trick the Boragen instructors use on their younglings in training when they lose their focus and become frustrated like Gabrian has just done. She increases her focus by closing her eyes for her next inhale, but wrinkles crease the bridge of her nose—her nostrils flare as the sharp scent of the sour lemon bites at her senses, jarring her from the hunt, and abruptly brings her back around. Jarrison lets go of her arm once he is convinced that she is calm. As her sight returns to her, the wildness dwelling in her eyes recedes—her pupils their normal size once more. With the rapid fluttering of her lashes, her blinded glare softens into a hazy gaze and the aura that had appeared and threatened to seek out and destroy all in its path, slows its frantic search, floating lazily against her skin.

  “Gabe, are you okay now?” Jarrison’s soft voice hums through the room, and he hopes that the lemon has done the trick.

  Gabrian looks around and wonders about the odd look that both of her parents are wearing and what could have happened to make them look that way.

  A bit startled of her sudden lapse in memory, she looks to her parents. “Can someone please tell me what just happened here?” Gabrian reaches up and touches the end of her nose with her fingers, feeling the wetness and smelling the distinct scent of citrus. She glances down to the coffee table, noticing a knife and half of a lemon. The other half is in her father’s hand. Raising her left brow, and twisting the end of her nose, she bites the edge of her bottom lip—befuddled by the oddity of it, she feels compelled to ask, “Can someome also explain to me why on earth my nose is covered in juice and why dad is holding onto a lemon?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Of Love and Pain

  SITTING ALONE IN front of the fireplace with the heat from the open flame flush against her skin, Gabrian still feels cold. Her heart is heavy with the magnitude of truths delivered to her today. After her Uncle Tynan had demonstrated a shockingly small glimpse of her new world, and the accidental probe of her parents’ minds leading to the revelation of her unknown adoption, Gabrian’s heartbeat echoes hollowly within her ribcage—her face, long and drawn out like a ghost irrevocably lost within worlds.

  Jarrison and Sarapheane turn to stare at each other with wide eyes, exchanging silent words of sorrow—completely at a loss of how to bring their daughter of twenty-six years into the inevitable need of enlightenment of who she really is. They decide to tell her outright the occurrences of the night they came to be her parents.

  Gabrian sits still within a comatose state as they begin to recount the story of her past and how everything came to be.

  “It began like most stories do. A story about a boy who meets a girl, and how they fall in love. The boy was one of the Realms’ most prominent Borrowers. Though his parents had died when he was young, he was adopted by a couple from the Realm and lived with them, continuing on with his training. As he grew, his gift developed for him with astonishing ease. He had a natural ability to easily lend and draw energy, as well as having the ability to read and persuade thought impressions within the minds of others, and because of this, he held great promise in becoming an Elder for the Boragen Fellowship one day. Though he was kind and thoughtful, he was also assertive and cunning when it came to getting what he wanted. And at that moment, what he wanted was to win over the beautiful Cera. She was the daughter of the last known Ancient Silver Mages—Markim Agryris, Elder of the Auncyen Arguros at the High Table in the Covenant of Shadows.”

  Recognizing the last name from the mysterious visitor in her office, she whips her head around with eyes no longer in a haze—mouth gaped open and wanting to interrupt, but she doesn’t. Something inside her tells her to stop and listen instead.

  “Because Cera was a Silver Mage, she had a number of different gifts and attended many classes in order to learn how to use and accentuate her abilities. The classes were insisted on by her father to prepare her to one day take his seat at the High Table. During the day, she went to school like everyone else, but in the afternoon and some evenings, she attended special classes and training at the Arts building that the Fellowships utilized in town. It was where those of the Realm who displayed gifts spent their time honing their talents. One of Cera’s gifts was that of the Boragen Fellowship, and since Adrinn was a Borrower too, she attended some of the same classes as the boy.

  “Cera could be found on the beach on most mornings when the skies were clear, perched on her favourite rock, waiting for the sun to rise. On one morning, she had an unexpected visitor—the boy. Finding out her weakness for sunrises, he decided to play that card and try to use it to his advantage of getting her attention. It worked. After that morning, they became inseparable. They spent every minute together, not allotted to school or training, which did not go unnoticed. Markim sat Cera down and pointed out her lax of duty toward her responsibilities as a Silver Mage and kindly encouraged her to return to her learning and to leave the Boragen boy alone. So, wanting to appease her beloved father’s requests, Cera agreed.

  “Cera met with the boy soon after she had spoken with her father and told him of her father’s wishes for her to concentrate more on her studies and of his objections to their friendship. Outraged by her father’s decision, he confronted Markim. The boy, being young and foolish, lost his temper which led to a brief moment of combat between the two. Being no match for the Silver Elder, and Markim still being that of a gentleman, he allowed the youngling to leave with merely his pride hurt more than anything.

  “Cera found him later on at Sand beach, where they had first met, looking defeated and weak. He told her of his confrontation with Markim and what had happened—though he left out the parts not becoming of his own behaviour. Hearing all this, Cera felt that his suffering was somehow partly her fault. Seeing him that way saddened her deeply. Using her Borrower’s gift of lending, she pushed a single fractal of her silver-coloured aura through him to the areas that seemed darkened and damaged, leaving him with only light, unknowingly igniting the beginning of their demise. From that point on, their love was to be hidden from her father’s eyes.

  “Over the next while, the two kept their distance from each other the best they could, but they barely saw each other. In secret, they made their rendezvouses in an old cave they learned about as children they called ‘thunder hole.’ They continued to meet like this for many months, hiding away from the watchful eye of the Realm—their embraces and exchanging energies became more and more intimate. But with all things, their perfect forbidden romance began to crumble. After one of their usual meetings, though everything started out the same, Cera sensed something changing within the boy. So she decided to follow him after her left her.

  “Cera stalked behind him to the Local Café. Not wanting to be seen, she transformed her flesh into a mere bend of air and painfully watched as he began to affectionately embrace another girl. Though she excelled in the knowledge of how to use her gifts, she failed in the world of deceit. While spending most of her time after classes trying to appease her father by training, the boy had grown bored of being alone and began to wander. In one of his journeys, he met a Derkaz youngling named Symone Cole, who was wild and rebelling against her father—the Elder of her Fellowship. They began to spend time together, time that he wanted to share with Cera but was forbidden.

  “Distraught from what appeared to her as an intentional deception, Cera left them in their hold inside the café, broken-hearted and confused. Days passed, and unaware that his
extracurricular activities had been found out, Adrinn arranged for another meeting with Cera, but this time it was different. She was withdrawn and refused to release any of her essence to him. Confused by her denial, he found the images reeling around in her mind, eventually seeing the vision of him and Symone. He saw the anger and hurt in Cera’s eyes and tried to explain to her that this girl meant nothing—that she was only a friend, and that he was in love with Cera.

  “Not fully believing his outpouring of devotion, she looked for deceit in his thoughts, but unbeknown to Cera, her simple act of affection of lending him her life essence had caused his mind to become clouded and chaotic. She could not find any coherent thoughts in his mind—his intentions toward the girl were scrambled and unclear.

  “Frustrated and hurt, she tried to leave, wanting to be alone. She could not see the madness in his eyes; she could not see that he was suffering from the craving clawing at his insides. He became agitated with her lack of cooperation and grabbed her by the shoulders. He threw her back against the cold damp cave wall and pinned her there, leaning in, to press his forehead up against hers. Without warning, he violently slammed into her aura with his mind, inhaling deeply trying to rip off pieces of her life force.

  “Still in shock of his sudden attack, Cera felt her life essence being ripped away and her energy began to drop quickly. Having no other choice, she fought back. With his hands tightly gripped on her, she was forced to let her instincts take over—using whatever Magik that surfaced in order to escape. She finally shifted into her Schaeduwe form before he had a chance to attack her life force again. Pulling herself into the closest shadow she could find, she left him alone with his doings in the cave.