by Kade Cook
“Sorry, what?” Gabrian cocks her head to the side and wedges her hands on her hips.
Cimmerian edges into the conversation, granting her a soft smile. “In other words, the Elders will be less likely to worry about your safety if you are guarded from those who may wish to extinguish your existence since your rise to such high status.”
Still silent, Gabrian slips her eyes across each Elder in attendance to find meaning. “Those as in people with the same mind set of one Caspyous.” Cimmerian bows his chin just a bit, feeling the sins of his doing as well.
And the lights of horror come on. “Ah, gotcha!” Gabrian says, nodding, and replays the whole terrifying list of events through her memory.
“This is something we must ensure never happens again,” Vaeda hums, her eyes sliding across all in attendance. “We have lost our last known Silver. We will not afford our Realm to lose our chance of finding another.”
Vaeda turns her attention back to Gabrian. “And so, you will be limited to the boundaries of your home. Only allotted exit in the accompaniment of a Guardian or an Elder. Training will commence immediately after the leave of the Covenant of Shadows and is hereby decreed by all standing Elders of the Covenant.
“All those in favour say ‘I’.”
A wave of ‘I’s’ roar over Gabrian’s protests.
“All opposed?”
“I oppose… me, the so-called head of the High Table,” Gabrian growls out, glaring into the eyes of her newly-found peers, terrified and trembling in waves of anger as she loses control on her life once more. “I oppose this entrapment of my freedom.”
“Gabrian, dear, we are sorry for this but it is necessary and is not up for debate. Until the time of your succession of training, and the acceptance of the Cauldron, you will be under our protection and Guidance.”
“Please be patient and find your understanding,” Ethan steps in and grants her a tender smile. “This means more to the Realm than you can possibly understand right now.”
All eyes are pleading but firm. Obviously, her climb to greatness has ultimately led her to the highest status among the people.
Her people.
The magnanimousness of this hollows her, losing the meaning of its importance, and dulls her ability to grasp it. Spoken in Gabrian’s terms, it just means she is a prisoner.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Wide Awake
A low groan of soreness escapes Rachael as she rolls on her side, and her eyes flutter. It feels as if a train had been thundering around her head while she was asleep and the light coming through her window burns her eyes. She pulls her arm up to shield her face and hears a shuffle nearby. Pressing her eyes open, she sees a large structure sitting in the chair beside her.
“Oh, Orroryn,” she coughs out, still tasting the chalky residue of her absence in her mouth.
“Sorry, did I wake you? I didn’t mean to disturb your rest.” He leans forward in his chair. “They told me you had woken up and I—”
“No, it is alright,” she puffs, trying to sit herself upright, heart thrumming wildly in his presence. She gleams at him and his heart jumps unexpectedly as their eyes lock in a strange dance that he cannot look away from.
“I should go,” he rushes out, feeling sweat dew on his brow. The wild pulse in his veins becomes too much and he rises from his chair. “You need your rest.”
The thought of him walking out the door and leaving her is too much. After all that she has been through in her journey through the darkness, she cannot bear his absence. Her voice cries out to him just as he opens the door to leave. “Ryn, please don’t leave me.”
Heart exploding, tears escape and slowly burn down his ebony cheeks—no one has referred to him with that name in centuries. “What did you say?”
Nervous, and bursting to tell him everything but terrified he won’t believe who she is, she becomes the girl she was when they had met so many years ago, and slips into that mind frame. “I said, please don’t leave me, Ryn.”
Orroryn lets the door close in front of him, slowly turning to face her. He dabs the edges of his eyes, where moisture pools, and meets her gaze through his long dark lashes. The hair is a different colour and the skin a shade too pale, but her eyes are alight with a fire he remembers all too well.
Rachael’s breath catches in her lungs as her lips curl into a meek but knowing smile—the same smile she has always given him—but today, it holds so much more this time. Pulling the covers away, she slips her slender legs over the side of her bed, eyes never leaving his.
He stares deeper into her eyes and whispers, “Taliyah?
A flush of rose colours her cheeks. “I have worn many names in my lives, but Taliyah was my first.”
Crossing the room with more speed than he is conscious of, Orroryn’s soul carries his body, helplessly drawn to stand before her. His mind is lost in a time where he once was married to a spirit so wild and untamed that he could not help but drown in her, heart and soul, a girl he surrendered his life to and vowed to love above all others—one so very much like the girl before him now. “But how?”
“I found my way back home,” she says timidly, dying to hold him with the memory of the way the world would stop and she would breathe him in.
A wave of energy shifts the room in a state of vertigo as he falls to his knees. His legs give in, unable to hold the weight of his heart and his desperate need for all of this to be real. Tears glisten over his ebony skin.
Rachael slides her small form from the bed, her bare toes touching on the cool tile floor in front of him. Orroryn pulls her into him, wrapping his arms around her tiny waist, and presses his head against her. His body vibrates in waves of feverish emotion. Rachael weaves her hands around him and tangles her fingers gently into his mess of dark curls, tucking him in tightly—claiming him.
Orroryn’s mind relives the night he lost her in the Veil, when his grip slipped on her and she was gone forever. The pain returns so sharp, so severe, he trembles in her hold, remembering the look in her eyes when her mind let go, remembering everything as if it were only yesterday.
“Oh, Tali, I am so sorry I lost you. It was my fault. I should have held on tighter.” His words crumble into his sobs. “I should have—”
Rachael hushes him, dying inside as she watches this warrior crumble before her. “It is okay, Ryn. Please don’t be sad. It is over, and all that matters is that I am here now.”
He draws away quickly, riffling through his pockets, and pulls out a wound ball of metal. He stares at it, heart thundering in his chest just like the very first time he was in this position, and lifts his gaze to the girl. “It seems like a thousand suns have passed since I offered my heart to you.”
Rachael’s own heart twists in her chest and the room begins to spin in the profound gesture before her, barely able to keep upright.
“It is still yours if you will have it.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Saturday Night Dance Fight
Whirled away and centered in the familiarity of her family cottage, Gabrian stares out through the glass doors separating her from the growing number of bodies appearing on her back lawn. When they said training would commence immediately, they were not kidding. What once held a serene, beautiful, well-kept yard now resembles more of an obstacle course with boundary markers and strangely-positioned half-walls peppering the green grass and aligned against the trees.
Littered along the edges of the property, large bodies stand statuesque, staring outward into the sea. Guardians, Gabrian thinks. This must be where the wards are weak and fade into nothingness. Her eyes dance to the garden gate, now worn, aging, and filled with the large presence of her Uncle Ty, arms outstretched and waving to give directions as to where everything needs to be placed in order to not totally destroy the garden.
Memories of a young girl dressed in her night dress tiptoes over her thoughts. Midnight visits to the same faded gate so many years ago, a rendezvous with a friend who would capt
ivate her with his wild adventures to other dimensions, promising to take her along someday. She now knows these were no more than muses to keep her coming back and flood information to him that he was unable to gather himself. Two souls, so completely different in form and expectation, that existed ignorantly within a world which bound them together by fate and blood. Gabrian cannot help but chuckle that her childish fantastical life has become her adult reality.
The daydream vanishes abruptly as Ethan’s voice cuts through the muddled silence of her memories. “All set, kiddo?”
Gabrian turns to greet her friend, a half-smile painted on her lips and pressed crooked brow tells him exactly what he expected to hear.
“Not quite the day you were hoping for?”
“Nope, not by a long shot.”
He laughs and closes the distance between them. “It is not so bad. You have seen worse.”
“You are kidding, right?” Gabrian chokes out, her words catching in her throat. “This is worse than bad. This couldn’t have gone more wrong if I had planned it all out myself.”
“Oh, it can’t be that bad.”
“No, really?” She flares her eyes and bites on her thumb, striking into a three-foot march in front of him. “Well, let us recall, shall we? Let’s see, first I set my room on fire. Then, I was lied to as to why I had to go to the Covenant, pushed out in front of the whole underground of the Shadows, and put on display like the latest attraction at a freak show.”
“You weren’t actually pushed.”
Gabrian snaps her head around, glaring at him. “You know what I mean.”
He grins back. “Just saying.”
Ignoring him, she continues her rant. “Then, I’m left in the dark as all the spirits of hell break loose around me, lighting up cauldrons left and right like the fourth of July. You know it would have been nice to have some warning instead of being tossed completely into the fire, frying pan and all.”
Ethan’s face twists as the list goes on and on. Gabrian’s dramatic performances never fail to entertain him, even when she usually is within her right to upscale her overreactions.
“Oh, and here is the best part. Let’s keep her in a cage under house arrest.”
“Yes, I suppose.” Ethan rubs at the edge of his shadowed chin, still sporting the ghost of his grin. “You do have a point.”
“A point?” She stops and chirps at his blasé demeanor. “A point? Holy crap, Ethan, I have a whole box full of points, sharp as hell, and I am being buried alive right in the middle of them.”
He laughs, her analogy pretty much on point. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he steadies her in her tirade, and offers her some sound advice. “Well, then I guess we need to find you a way to get out of that box. Right?”
She stares him down. His soft warm hazel eyes defuse some of the dynamite inside of her. Maybe he is right. She may not be able to change the fact this is happening, but she can find a way out of the unwanted circumstances.
“First you must discover the limitations of your gifts—understand them—and find your comfort levels. Then learn to master them.”
The word master is heavy to her soul and sharp in her ears. The weight of it makes her slump a bit. How the hell is she going to master something older than time?
“Mastering your gifts will be your ticket to freedom.”
Freedom, the word rings sweet in her ears. “You all don’t expect much, do you?”
“It is not about expecting, anything, it is about taking all we know and sharing with you. Helping you place one foot in front of the other, in order to move you forward and keep you safe, even if that means to protect you from yourself.”
Gabrian’s fuse is out. She cannot argue with Ethan on this. He has a point, and his is sharper than her whole box of points put together as the memory of holding the burning book filters through, so strong that she still feels the sting of smoke in her eyes.
“You are going to be okay. I can’t say it will be easy, but you will get through this—I think.”
She shakes her head and huffs at his lame attempt at humor. “I see Kaleb hasn’t come up with an elixir to fix your bad jokes yet, maybe that will be something I can conjure up. A new special gift to the mission. At least that will be worth it.”
Rolling his eyes, Ethan pulls her into a one-armed hug and stares out through the window. The area is nearly finished to start the process of her enlightenment. “Oh, I almost forgot.” He steps away and jogs back up into the kitchen, grabbing a bag he left resting on the nook. “This is for you.”
“What is it?”
“Training gear.”
“Let me guess, spandex and leather?”
His throat releases a hearty chuckle. “No not quite, those are only for Saturday night dance fights.”
“Well, at least that is one less worry,” she says, walking away to get changed.
“Where do you think we are going? Comic-Con?”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Unearthing, Bad jokes, and Ugliness
Comic-Con would have been a dream, and Gabrian would be completely over the moon if this were the case for her fancy outfit, but it is a far cry from anything that pleasant, not to mention the donated attire would have been acceptable. The bag of ‘gear’ Ethan handed her was much to be desired. The loose cotton clothes draped over her small form were not what she was expecting but at least they are comfortable, not constraining and restrictive fitting, just odd.
Patting down the side of her grey flowy shirt, Gabrian pushes open the patio French doors, stepping out into the newly reconfigured battle zone. Drawing in a long breath, the sweet smell of autumn and ocean fresh in her lungs, settles her. Wafts of warm of air makes the cloth belt dance on her hip in the ocean’s salty breeze.
Bodies turn at her arrival, and the hum of preparations recedes into quick chirps of final necessities put into order. Ready or not, here we go, she whispers in a silent voice, clenching and unclenching her now warm fingertips.
This is her world now, like it or not. Fighting it is just a waste of energy she could be using to figure out her plan to push this crap behind her and find a better way of life. Maybe then she can find a way to bring Rachael back and slip into the Veil to see Shane. She does not know the limitations of her gifts, as Ethan so kindly put it, but if any of them lead her toward either of these, she will gladly follow and master them with a vengeance.
This new train of thought washes away some of the bitter taste in her mouth. Unsure of the extent of her entrapment, she makes a mental note to have these rules clearly defined for her so there is no confusion in the boundaries. Maybe this too can become a highly effective motivator. Freedom is worth its weight in gold, or flesh and suffering in this matter.
“Ready to begin?” Kaleb asks, jolting her from her internal architectural scheme of making this work in her favour somehow. His eyes are soft and golden, bright against the afternoon sun and his aura a gentle hue of lime.
Pressing a timid smile across her mouth, Gabrian moves toward him “Ready as I will ever be.”
“Nice suit,” he says, tugging at her black cloth belt and mirroring her image in his own Gi.
“Not quite what I had expected,” she hums shyly as they start down the wooden steps toward the grassy arena.
“I heard the battle cloaks come later. Right now, we need you to be comfortable and relaxed. This is a research and discovery kind of training.” He tucks his thumb into his belt as they walk and swings his other arm freely at his side. “Constriction inhibits natural flow, hence the light and airy cloth.”
“I figured as much.” She squirms in her clothes and a waft of air whipping through an opening in her suit makes her feel exposed and unprotected. This is going to take a bit to get used to. Her eyes dance around the yard, searching for the other Elders, but it is only her and Kaleb along with the nearly invisible outlines of the Schaeduwe Guardians holding the wall of protection to keep them company. “Where are all the others?”
&
nbsp; “In conference, I do believe.” Kaleb lifts a finger to point at Tynan’s small cottage, and she nods in understanding. One gift she is already quite familiar with makes its appearance as she scans the outer layers of Tynan’s small abode. Narrowing her eyes, she senses the multitude of energies huddled close inside the walls, their energies large and unbound by any covenant binds. “It is just you and me to start off. I volunteered to go first.”
Her eyes rush at him, the words strange off his tongue. A ghost of his inner beast flashes in her mind, stirring her pulse into a more alert pace. “Oh?” she chirps, wondering if he is going to question her on it since this is the first time they have been alone since the transformation of his gift. She bites her thumb, wondering if he knows she saw…everything.
“My gift is a bit gentler than some of the others.”
Gabrian makes an involuntary squeak. His words, arbitrary and spoken loosely, especially since her recent witness of events, chokes her. He hesitates, twisting his brow, and his eyes pinch at the edges as he watches her. “Are you alright?”
Not ready to confront him on this, she flashes a crooked smile and nods, covering her mouth. “Sorry,” she croaks, continuing to cough. “Swallowed a bug.” She hopes it is enough to remove any suspicion on his part.
Releasing a soft chuckle, he picks up where he left off before the eating of insects occurred. “And…I thought it would be beneficial for you to find a place to center yourself before we start unleashing all that lies within,” he says, halting his steps and donating a slight grin, aura shifting ever so slightly—a trace of amber upon its frayed edges.
He turns to face her, casting her in the shadows of his larger form. “Having no place to go when wars inside you start to rage is not an experience I recommend. It is better to be prepared than left alone without shelter in the storm.” Kaleb crouches, lowering to the ground, and sits with his legs criss-cross on the grass, patting the cushy blades of greenery in front of him.
