by Kade Cook
To: Thomas Blackstone
Sorry for not writing. I have been a bit busy the last few weeks.
Swamped with work and had a family emergency. No biggy. Then I managed to come down with a bug, and I was out of commission for a bit. But I feel much better now.
I met a couple of new people who have friend potential. (Don’t worry they could never replace you…EVER)
And, oh yeah, I got a promotion of sorts. Now Ethan has me busy training like crazy. No rest for the wicked, I guess.
Miss your smile more. And I have a better idea, come visit me when you get some vacation time, Gabrian.
There that ought to do it, she hums, pressing the send button, and lets the device fall against her chest. Another ping makes her pull back the phone.
New message from Shane.
“Shane!” she gasps.
Her chest explodes. Clumsy fingers touch the screen, pressing all the wrong buttons and messing with her heart. Finally, she forces them to slow and find the right button.
Shane: I miss you.
Gabrian’s eyes burn. Water floods her vision, smearing the words into an unreadable blur on the screen. Frantic to reply, she swabs away the dew with her pajama sleeve and begins to type. But her fingers freeze. Narrowing her eyes, she scrolls up and reveals the last words she had sent. The last time they talked.
Shane: Yah.
Gabrian: I need you.
Shane: Are you OK?
Gabrian:
Yes, no… Listen, I was wrong.
Everything I said,
Everything I did to push you away.
I was wrong.
Shane: Stop.
Gabrian: No, I need to explain.
Gabrian: I just need to hear the sound of your voice.
Gabrian: Shane, please.
Gabrian: Are you there?
Shane: Just give me a few minutes. Okay?
Gabrian: Okay. Will I see you soon?
Shane: Yah. Soon.
Shane: I miss you.
Her chest wrenches, and she pulls the phone tight against her chest once more. The new message from Shane was not new at all. It just was never seen, never opened because she had been pulled away into Cimmerian and Adrinn’s private dark war before it was received—both Gabrian and Shane torn from this world before it could find its way between them.
She glances once more at the phone and crumbles into tiny pieces.
Shane: I miss you.
It is his last words that deplete her will to remain awake. Burying herself within the folds of her comforter, Gabrian clutches the phone tightly in her grip. Tears of remorse and hollowness weigh heavy on her eyes, finally lowering them. Her lips tremble as she breathes out the words, “Gawd, I miss you so much.”
A rippling wave of sadness warps the air around her words. The room fills with heaviness as she closes out the world of labored truths, hurrying toward the sweet oblivion of exhaustion, no longer able to hold onto the ghosts haunting today.
As the clock strikes one, today becomes her tomorrow.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Theory and Orbs
Drained of all energy, Gabrian drifts in the gentle void of slumber when a soft warm glow licks at her closed lids, beckoning them to open. Flickers of candlelight make the furniture in her room dance and sway with jittery shadows, hopping back and forth as the flame shifts on it wick.
She rubs her eyes and peers around the room, noticing the cloak of night still blackening her windows. The light, however dim, emanates a disruptive glow that irritates her enough to lift her head from her pillow. Its location is strange. Centered in the middle of her wall, it is neither in the bathroom nor the hallway. She sits up, more alert, and focuses her eyes. There is an entrance in the wall, just behind her bookshelf, where the light lingers.
Her mind flickers, tracing the start of her day yesterday, back to the mirage that appeared through the smoke when the City of Ashes met its untimely demise. Swinging her legs over the side of her bed, Gabrian gets to her feet and crosses the small divide between her and the vision. It is open, inviting, and very unusual. The subtle aroma of paper and patchouli drift on her senses, and she moves toward the phenomenon before her brain registers that she has moved. Her hands reach out to touch the transparent illusion, searching for the tangible proof of the wall that once stood in its place, but her fingers find no evidence. They press clean through. Taking one last glance at the solid wall beside her, she lets go of what she knows to be true and follows behind her curious fingers.
Once across the threshold, her skin, muscles, and everything right down to the core of her bones, are met with a buzz of energy. It reminds her of when she was young and had played inside a netted trampoline, everything filled with static electricity. Even the hair on her head feels like it is growing. Her hands lift to brush over the short bristles on her scalp and find they have not grown at all. Her fingers trace over the ends of phantom hair, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake.
“Weird,” she drones out, eyes wide, and scans the contents of the new room. “What the…” Her words fade into a hushed breath as her eyes catch movement on the ceiling. Small wandering orbs of soft light float unhurried across the space above her. Layers of flickering sparks drift along small air currents like mock candles, wicks alight with flame. Their gentle glow casts the room in a warm soft hue and her form shadows the boarded floor below.
As Gabrian steps farther into the room, walls painted with tall shelves emerge from the shadows filled with strange-looking artifacts and books—hundreds upon hundreds of books, all bound with different shades of leather and canvas. Some are smooth and supple while others look torn and tattered—showing their age and wear. She edges toward them, drawn to their shape. Running her fingers delicately along the edges of their spines, the energy in the room shifts in vibration. Each volume of written word seems to exude its own unique identity of being, pulsating with different levels of frequencies.
She slowly drifts along the wall, surfing the different waves of bound knowledge as she goes. The orbs swim in and out of view, following along with her, then wander off into the darkness—flickering in the distance to give glimpses of what lies beyond her sight. Gabrian’s eyes follow as far as she can see. A barrage of old books unfolds, placed together in slender rows soldiered in columns cloaked by the absence of light beyond.
Curious of this strange place, she steps toward one of the alleys, eager to explore, and is denied her voyage. A barrier of energy wraps around her then retracts its hold on her and forces her to back-step into the light. Lifting her hands to push out against the invisible threshold, Gabrian meets an intangible force-field that bends slightly with her touch but is unyielding to her request of entry.
Although denied access, she can hear them—the books. They all sing out to her, a silent song of promise, of knowing, of serenity, and of protection. She lingers on her side of the blockade, soaking in their glorious state of existence. Thwarted once again by Magik. This barrier is merely a temporary obstacle. She can feel it—another puzzle piece she will learn how to fit into her life. With a quick inhale of temporary defeat, Gabrian peeks over her shoulder at the space she is allotted freedom, and turns to explore.
Her eyes spy a small wooden desk and chair protruding from the wall, snuggly tucked into a cozy nook just around the wall to the right of where the entry of her room still stands erect. It reminds her of an old banker’s desk with small slotted shelves lining the top of it. She narrows her eyes, and walks toward it, regarding the more modern constructions of notebooks and sketchpads all neatly lined along the left side of it.
Being the ever-curious mind, Gabrian removes one of them and opens it.
Introduction to understanding Multi-Level Abilities
The secret to handling any variation of a gift is to begin with respecting the element you are working with.
Gabrian inhales, flipping through the pages. Handwritten notes and scratches of unfinished sketches litter the
pages, each categorized and highlighted according to the specific magical gift they pertain to. This one just happens to be the Egni Fellowship and their gift of fire.
“Holy crap, these are instructions.” Gabrian grins, riffling through them, and replaces the browsed notebook to the shelf, retrieving another for a peek at its insides. “Handwritten, step by step, learning guides of the Realm’s Magik. This must have been Cera’s room,” she whispers, flipping the page over. “Has to be.”
She lowers the book onto the desk and pulls the chair out to settle in for a good old-fashioned study session. Unnoticed by Gabrian, who is caught in swirl of curiosity, some of the floating orbs gather near, congregating together and linger gingerly over her, lighting the space more fluidly. She flips it over, reading the spine. Bold printed letters spell out HYDOR. Even just reading the words darkens her inside as the memory of Caspyous’ evil mind washes through her. Shaking it off, she lets go of his hatred toward her, not wanting to waste any energy on thinking about him. He got what he deserved—everyone has a choice and he chose poorly. She knows that one day she will have to face him again, being who they think she is, but today is not that day. Today is a day of discovery.
Her pulse quickens as she flips open the cover of the notebook and reads what is scribbled inside the pages. She learns to read the shape and curve of the handwriting, memorizing each letter, and allows her mind to read the information with more fluency and correctness. The first couple of pages are dull and unhelpful, but as she turns to the next page, the inscription of knowledge seems to bleed out, fading off the pages into nothing.
The inked words bled clean of their purpose. She presses her focus to the page—not gone, invisible. “This is kind of strange.” Gabrian thumbs through the pages, their pristine condition disrupted by use and inscription. They have been written on, she can make out pressure marks on the pages, but she cannot read the words. Fanning through the book, her eyes catch on some ink within, and she halts her search, hurriedly flipping back to the page where she saw the marks.
Water is the very essence of life. The master of healing and with it brings…
“Well, I know this part. This part is easy. Even Lyarah said as much when the water healed me.” A light clicks on in her head. She is about to experiment with the validity of a theory that just dawned on her in the truth of the very words spoken. “Hmm, I may not know the ins and outs of Hydor Magik, but I do believe that I may remember a little something about what Ashen taught me.” Laying the Hydor notebook down, she scans the collection of tidy writings in front of her, neatly awaiting her decision. Spying the one labeled ISA, Gabrian pulls it free from its hold and lays it down on the desk in front of her.
The tips of her fingers tingle, and she pulls them in front of her, blowing on their ends to soothe their itch. Shaking them gently at her sides, she slides her thumb to the edge of the ISA notebook and flips over the leather cover to reveal the answer to her anticipated hypothesis.
The page is blank.
Her heart sinks but only for a moment. Shadows dance in her eyes as an orb lowers from above and sweeps down, hovering briefly over the book to lend a bit more light on the matter. Gabrian raises her eyes, blinking to adjust to the lent gift, and gazes at the spark before her just as a waft of air winds over her shoulder and ruffles the edge of the pages. Lost in her wonderment of gazing at this little phenomenon, she pulls her eyes free. The subtle disturbance below reveals what her intuition already knew.
Words.
Tons of them, all the knowledge of Isa she had been given was there, lying in wait to be reviewed in black and white shadows across the page. Curious to test her theory further, Gabrian riffles through the remaining stack of notebooks. Her assumptions are correct. Any knowledge that she has about any given element of Magik, Gabrian is aware of clear as day. Revealed within her books. Those that she knows nothing of lie empty in wait.
Egni, is more or less filled with information that she has not learned yet. Each piece of information seems simplistic and primary as if it is the beginning stepping stones of understanding how the Magik flows and steps to learn how to wield it.
“This is wicked!” She exhales, deciding to settle in and learn what she can about fire Magik. Yesterday’s lessons had been a far cry from awesome, but if she has a little inside help, maybe tomorrow’s lesson might not be as embarrassing. Flipping a few pages in the beginning of the book, Gabrian finds the perfect place to start and reads the scribbled bold heading out loud. “Here we go. Now this has my name written all over it. Lesson One: Learning how to not fear the fire.”
Chapter Forty
Glasses and a Day off
Lost within her disease, Gabrian drowns herself in the pages of her mother’s scribbled knowledge, or what the watchful Magik allows her to see—introductory know-how of how some of the elements work, behave, and how to handle them. It is only allotting her the knowledge she requires to move forward—safeguarding her progression from advancement which would undoubtedly get her hurt, not to mention anyone in close proximity of her.
Although frustrated by the limitations set by a higher power, Gabrian happily absorbs what knowledge she is given. Something is better than nothing, especially since she is expected to perform miracles by all the Elders. A light rustling from the corner causes the orbs in the room to flicker and scurry from their soft flowy routine, drawing Gabrian’s attention from her studies. Watching them twitch and scurry around the space above her, she is once more captivated by their new strange behaviour.
“Gabrian,” a muffled familiar voice echoes into the room, breaking her from her trance. The orbs jitter and dance as she rises from the chair. “Gabrian, are you here?” His voice is louder, hinting with a note of distress.
“Tynan,” she hums, turning the corner just as the silhouette of his form rushes by the opening. Holy crap, how long have I been in here? The sun is already up. “I am here,” she calls out, hearing his thoughts, the worry she has disappeared again. “Tynan, wait.” But the Shadow Walker does not reply as he charges into the next room.
She hurries her pace and steps out through the opening, back into her room. The wave of electricity washes over her skin as she crosses the barrier between here and there. She gasps, a wave of shock stinging her, and she immediately looks behind her, afraid the room is gone. But the light remains in the wall. It is faint, but it is still there. She raises her hand and brushes it against the faded illusion, exhaling with relief as her fingers meet no resistance. The buzz of the other side kisses her fingertips and makes her smile.
The thud of worried footsteps brings her attention back to the room, and she calls out to her uncle as his frantic mind debates whether or not to alert the Elders. “Uncle Ty?”
The footsteps halt their descent on the stairwell and hurry back toward her as the large wide eyed Schaeduwe enters her room. “Where were you? I couldn’t find you and I thought—”
“I was just in the bathroom,” she hums, lying through her teeth.
Tynan’s face contorts, scratching his head, and he eyes her confession with a twisted brow. “I just looked in the bathroom, you weren’t—”
“Hmm, Uncle Ty, have you thought maybe it might be time for you to look into getting glasses?”
“I am a Shadow Walker. Trust me, I don’t need glasses.”
“Well, there is always an exception to the rule. I am living proof of that,” she teases him, trying to dissuade him from dissecting the lie.
He shakes his head at her. “Yeah, Gabe. That you are.”
“Uncle Ty,” she says, her voice lowering and losing its sass.
“Yeah, Gabe?”
“Do you notice anything different about my room?”
His eyes narrow, studying her for a moment, then releases his gaze, letting it float around the room to try and figure out what in the Realm she is talking about. “Hmm, well, let’s see.” Rubbing the edge of his soft, bearded chin, Tynan ends his hunt and grins. “You know, if you don’t l
ike the blanket then just tell me. I can get a different colour. The other one had burn marks on it and needed to be replaced, not to mention it was highly flammable. I just wanted to eliminate a safety hazard.”
“No, no the blanket is fine. Anything else in the room? Like maybe in this location?” she says, swirling her hand over the area near the faint outline of the new opening.
With raised brow, he stares at the spot she refers too but only purses his lips and clicks his teeth, lost for words. “Hmm, you moved the bookshelf?”
He cannot see it. The opening clear as day to Gabrian is lost from Tynan’s sight. Clearly, this enchanted room is not meant for him. Time to make something up. “Yup, do you think it looks alright there?” She does not like lying to him, but if she mentions the doorway, and he cannot see it, then he is going to get worried about her mental well-being. And that will just open a big old can of worms that nobody wants to deal with. She has enough on her plate and worms are not on the menu right now.
“Do you like it there?” His words are slow and primary, and he wonders if the pressure being put on her is getting to her. She is not like him—things like the placement of a bookshelf are of little interest to her. She went to hell and back, then was thrown under the bus by him and his obsessive duty to the Realm. She needs a moment or two to recover from everything. He is her family—her only family. It is time to start acting like it.
