by Kade Cook
Her eyes rush to seek what her heart knows to be true.
Shane.
But it is over. Thrust back into the narrow corridor of the Covenant of Shadows leaves the subtle waft of his essence behind in the shadows. Gabrian clutches her chest and her eyes fill with tears as she tenses in her uncle’s grasp.
Tynan’s hand instinctively tightens around her wrist as they step out into the hallway. “Are you alright?” he inquires, feeling her angst run wild under her pulsing flesh.
She lifts her gaze, a trail of moisture escaping down her cheeks. Not having really pressed the issue of Shane’s recovery to anyone, her shame of his damage is too great for her to carry out loud. “I just thought I—” Her breath catches in her throat, words sad and sharp. “Is it possible to feel a soul’s essence within the Veil?”
Tynan’s brow furrows and he studies her face, feeling a bit relieved that it is just her curiosity which plagues her mind and not something else. His grip had been secure but the Veil can be a vile beast if not treated with respect—one he knows too well from watching Orroryn suffer its consequences for the past few centuries.
His face softens. “You are sure you are alright?”
She nods, her lips quivering and heart still caught within the emotion of the shadows.
The tight straight line drawn on his lips releases and a gentle curve takes its place. “Yes, the essence of a soul is very vivid within the Veil.” Tynan steps forward to begin their trek to the Great Hall, and Gabrian follows suit. “Once the trace is learned, anyone can be found or felt within it.”
“Would I be able to feel—” Her words choke her and her eyes fill with dew as she longs to hear his name touch her lips.
“Shane, you mean?”
Her eyes drop to her feet. The sound is so painful but the mix of feelings it invokes inside is tangible. For the first time in weeks, she feels alive, feeding off the pain this reality stabs at her. She uses it to fuel her courage, to look her uncle in the eye. “Yes.”
He scratches the edge of his jaw and lets his gaze drift to somewhere she cannot see. Exhaling a troubled breath, he returns to her. “I guess there is always that possibility since you are bonded by oath and heart.”
They are bonded. Of course, she can feel him. It has to be what it was, the bond. If only she could see him and tell him all the things she has been longing to say. “Is he alright?” she says, her desire to be close to Shane urging her silence about the matter to cease. “Is he going to be okay? You kind of skated around the question when I asked weeks ago.”
Her questioning deflates the plumpness in his lips again. A straight line makes its reappearance on Tynan’s mouth as his eyes wander for the proper wording to give her. “We normally do not speak of those within the Veil. The Schaeduwe are quiet about things within the shadows. All I can tell you is that he is—” Tynan glances down at her pleading eyes, wetness edging her long black lashes tears with the wish he could tell her all will be well but he cannot.
Because he does not truly know.
No one has ever suffered the wrath of Erebus like Shane has. Well, no one but Gabrian. He still has no answers to explain what miraculous transformation happened there except there is a greater power in charge of her destiny. One that is crueler and yet more devoted to her than he can understand.
He releases the tension in his lips and lets them fill again, arm reaching to wrap around her shoulders, as they walk. “He is where he needs to be.”
These words echo in her mind. They are the same words that were told to her by Sarapheane and Jarrison about Cera, words that remind her that he may be there for a very long time. Gabrian bites her lip, painfully trying to push back her emotion. A bitter truth of the world she now belongs to. This world takes prisoners, holds them within its spell until it is good and ready to deal with them. This is her ugly reality. Cera, Rachael, and now Shane are all trapped in the intricate webs of Magik, some of which were spun by her sins.
“I can tell you though, Orroryn will not be here today with the Elders.” Gabrian lifts her eyes. His words cut through her sadness and bring her back to their purpose. “He is visiting Shane.”
His eyes catch Gabrian’s and see them light, a hint of hope dancing in them. Sucking in a long painful truth-filled breath, Gabrian holds the weight of it as long as she can and releases it. She tries to push out her sadness over having no control, letting go of some of the guilt of her doings, and prays she can make amends somehow.
Chapter Twenty-Two
On with the Freak Show
Maybe it was the fact that Gabrian was not facing Cimmerian and Caspyous, or even the guilt of not having to look into Orroryn’s eyes, but the binds around her do not feel the same as they usually do. The strangling of her senses is absent, unlike every other time she entered the binds of the Covenant.
Even with the mind-altering knowledge of Kaleb and Ethan, Gabrian is not afraid to face them. Who is she to judge anyone? Maybe Kaleb is an ancient who hunts in the darkness and Ethan his comrade at arms. Even with all their secrets, they are no more evil than the monster she had been only weeks ago.
Hell, even her father, Adrinn, seems to have turned over a new leaf.
Maybe it is time to put all the legends and horror stories of old monsters to bed for a while and find a new chapter to write in this story or be damned trying. Gabrian is not afraid or bogged down with the gut-wrenching despair she always comes with. Something new and strange takes its place. Obliteration, an unusual ease of who she is wells warm in her belly.
She could get used to this.
A strange grin grows at the edges of her lips and her pace slows. The stone walls around her shift and a soft glow hovers around the encrypted etching, melding into an understanding between the two. A soft cue of familiarity welcomes her home.
In this new state of being, Gabrian wonders if this is the way everyone feels entering the sacred space, if it should have always felt this way. The air around her is light and pleasant—a strange phenomenon considering where she is. Stepping out into the great hall of the Covenant of Shadows, Gabrian inhales a sweet scent of summer blossoms and freshly cut grass. She halts, and inhales again. Something else that had been shrouded from her senses, obviously, she concludes.
Tynan ceases his advance into the light and turns back, glancing at his niece over his broad shoulder. “Are you alright? You are beginning to worry me.”
A smirk swallows up her serenity, and she exhales a huffy chuckle. “Beginning to…Really?”
She wrinkles her nose at him and tucks her arm under his, gliding them both forward into the masses. Ignoring the sudden wide-eyed glances in their direction—uncaring of what any of the Realmsfolk think of her—Gabrian marches forward, head high and ignited by the subtle energies flowing through the space. She did not ask for anything that she has been made into and everything will work itself out. Rachael will be alright, she will. She is almost certain of it and Shane—well, he will be back, and she will keep him safe and love him with every ounce of her soul. He will come back to her. He will.
And for the first time in a long while she believes it—well, mostly. It is in the ninety-ninth percentile.
“By now I thought it was just a natural state between us,” she teases, hugging Tynan’s arm, and feeling her new well of bottomless hope.
“I am glad to see you smile. I think it is the first time that has ever happened here.”
“You are probably right about that.” She grins, eyeing the skyline in the distance. A shimmering sparkle of light dances across the Head Table at the end of the great hall. Layers of wavy mystical and regal hues glow around the Elders’ seating area, casting it into a spellbinding presentation of greatness.
For the first time, she harbors no fear of what it represents. The guilt of her strife and her sins plays nice with her today. Whatever Rhada and Lyarah have done to her is exciting—a strange emotion for her, considering everything.
Taking advantage of Gabrian’s se
emingly light mood, Tynan informs her of a few more details of their visit. “The test is going to be a snap in your elated state.”
And goodbye good mood.
Gabrian’s happy-go-lucky stride screeches to a halt. Her death lock on Tynan’s arms trips him up as she jerks him back, the cheery grin lost somewhere in the Veil of shadows.
“Um, wait a minute. Back up.” Gabrian purses her lips and rubs the stubby prickles of newborn hair on her head. “What did you just say?”
“Your test.” Tynan’s mouth twists, and he scratches the edge of his newly bearded chin.
“What test is this?” she growls out through gritted teeth, loud enough to cause the people around them to slow in their journey and take notice. Grabbing the edge of his shirt, she pulls hard and draws him in closer. “You never mentioned anything about any test.”
He presses a smile and looks down at her with soft eyes. “Yeah, about that,” he says, biting his lip. “I didn’t want you to worry. It is more like research and discovery analysis.”
“Uncle Ty, a test is a test no matter how you sugar-coat its name. How could you not tell me?” Gabrian begins to do a three-foot pace, accompanied with a bout of hyperventilation. “You said they just want to see me, to see how I have healed. Curious is how you described it, I believe.”
He grins. Placing his large hands on her shoulders to stop her march and end her frantic trek, Tynan stares down into her swirling icy blues and tries to settle her building angst. “It is not as bad as your dramatic mind is making it out to be. It is nothing to worry about. Okay?”
“Nothing to worry about? Are you freaking kidding me?” Her eyes widen and shoot around at the onlookers trying not to be obvious in their attempts at eavesdropping. She feels the beat of her heart racing beneath her ribs, each pulse rushing electric waves that sting her.
A warm burn at the edge of her fingers, a familiar sensation that had gone missing in her re-born state of being, has returned. And to her delight, the strange phenomenon wraps her in a distorted sense of comfort. Even if she doesn’t truly understand its purpose, she knows it. It is a part of her existence, an early defence and warning sign of trouble to come. No wonder it has returned. Once again, she has been left out of the loop and forced to play by others’ rules of conduct.
So much for happy today—on with the freak show.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Rise and Shine, Sleepyhead
Down the hall, and to the right of Room 231, the monitor beeps a steady rhythm. Its electrical irregularities play havoc with on duty staff as it spikes and flatlines on a regular basis from the day it was connected. Under the cloak of darkness, a subtle violet haze decorates a small slender frame. Dark chaotic hair drapes across chalky white, sunken skin as Symone’s chest slowly rises and falls again.
From the floor, misty black swirls slip beneath the crack of her door, and slither toward the sleeping girl—rising up the side of her bed before halting. Twitching and writhing, the wisps of toxins swoon at her fragile state and release an eerie chuckle.
“Get up, sleepyhead,” it coos at her. “Time to rise and shine.”
The girl remains still.
Letting out an irritated huff, the smoke swirls again, manifesting into a handsome grinning vaporous form. “Really, Symone, you mustn’t be lax on your return.” He grins, eyes light. The irises change from hazel to a fiery orange as the colour swirls within. “You have rested long enough. It is time we get you back to Earth.”
Closing his lids and dimming the lightshow in his eyes, Adrinn releases his consciousness and enters the girl’s. Searching within the chaotic swirls of images, he hunts for a connection to her body, calling out to her in her dreams.
“Symone, darling, where are you?”
Within the clouded nightmare, the girl appears. Face sullen and her eyes wide, she searches with unkempt hair flowing wildly, painted within her violet hue. She sees him. Releasing a high-pitch shriek of delight, she rushes forward in the mess of thoughts. Pushing everything and everyone in her path to the side, she clamours to reach him and clings to his form. Clutching hold of his lapel, Symone crushes her tangles of messy hair into his chest with submission to his request.
Adrinn glides his hands around the back of her head and cups her cheeks. Lifting her eyes to meet his, only for an instant, she soaks him in. He allows her this only once to make his message clear to the girl. “It is time.”
Symone gasps, her mouth left slightly ajar. Her eyes dilate, gathering all the details of his face, and memorizes it with her soul then drops her head quickly, breaking connection with him and nods in understanding of his command.
“Be a good girl and come along now.” He pulls away from her, grinning a devilish smirk, and steps back into the present, letting his image fade ever so slowly.
Her subconscious mind panics upon seeing Adrinn drift into a fading mirage. Suffering from the disconnection, Symone cries out, clutching the emptiness he has left her in. Wrapping her arms violently around herself, and ripping at her own hair, she releases a mind-shattering screech into the void, feeling the sharp-edged pull of her consciousness as he drags her back into the physical world that waits for her final return.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Cimmerian’s Child
“Stubborn, pig headed—” Between gritted teeth, Orroryn enters back into the Realm from the Veil, his pulse rapid and his cheeks flush in his frustrated state. But as soon as the soft repetitive beep reminds him of where he is, he quiets and slips across the shadowy room.
His fingers ease their grasp around the stems of the flowers he carries, orange and full of life, not quite of this world. They are a gift from the Veil to brighten up the dim essence of her room. The same flowers that he carried hundreds of years ago to another girl he cared for so long ago.
He looks upon her small frame and sighs, feeling the pressure of the lump in his throat as she lays still, the same as she was when he left her. A need to check on her pulls him. This youngling has become dear to him in a way he cannot understand. A longing to protect her, to be close to her, keeps pulling him back like a magnet.
Removing the dying bouquet from the vase and tossing the old ones in the garbage, he replaces it with his new offering of orange blooms—arranging them to fold out and hang fully over the edge of the vase. Satisfied with the presentation, he slips around the edge of her bed and takes his place at her side. Gently sliding his warm fingers beneath hers, he lays his forehead on their joining hands, closes his eyes, and lets his weariness consume him.
He is truly fond of the girl but his heart can never truly be free. And to lead her to believe otherwise would be cruel, something he would never do to someone. The girl deserves to find someone who can give her their heart wholly and completely—something he can never do.
In his sullen silence, a loud shriek echoes though the shroud of shadows and pulls him back to reality and to his feet. Orroryn swiftly rushes to the door, opening it just as a nurse jogs past.
“Is everything alright?” Orroryn calls out.
“It is the Cole girl. She has just surfaced from the coma and she is in shock.”
Cimmerian’s child.
With one last glace back at Rachael, Orroryn leaves her to her dreams and follows the footsteps of the orderly heading toward Symone.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Different
Tynan grabs Gabrian’s arm and hurries her toward the group of gathered bodies standing beside a giant pillar that climbs endlessly upward. Her eyes dance across their familiar forms and she exhales a furious breath. The only sound she hears is the pounding of fury in her ears. Normally, it would be filled with the murmurs of internal thought whispered unconsciously by the minds of everyone in the marble walls, but since her visit to Erebus, it has been quiet.
Excruciatingly quiet.
And today will be no different. She longs for the soft reassuring ‘Just breathe’ of Ethan’s silently whispered words, but it is not in the car
ds. The gift she had tagged for so long as a curse, the one she had wished away, is missed very badly in the moment—not to mention the tall dark shadow she wished was here as well, but that is a missing on an entirely different level.
Her heart twists, and she folds her arms around herself. The hollow ache is cold and feral beneath her arms. Gabrian exhales and pushes the sadness away. There is nothing she can do about wanting Shane here, about wanting to make things right again. It will do her no good to sink into a depression about something out of her control—just like the mindreading or lack thereof. All of it is out of her control.
Maybe its absence is a gift. She was not really sure about Ethan at the moment although her instincts vibrate, urging her to reach out to him and rekindle a spark between their minds regardless of the secrets surrounding him.
Broken bits of random conversations sing merrily around the Elders melded together, unusually mellow and undiplomatic-like. They more closely resembled a group of friends than an Elders’ meeting which in normalcy resembles a wake—always dark, intense, and stress-filled. Maybe Tynan is not lying and this would not be the usual gong show she was used to. Not certain how to digest this strange new experience, she shakes out the returned fiery bite at her fingertips and marches forward, head high and defences on high alert waiting the wings.
As she and Tynan near the group, they are welcomed with a mixture of gaped mouths and sincere smiles, playful banter between peers wafting in the air. Gabrian’s eyes study the group, still a bit leery. There is a new excitement vibrating around them. She cannot help but feel it and it hums through the walls with a life of its own. A prism of colours sparkles on them like Magik dust. Iridescent auras shimmer and speckle, dancing on their flesh.
