Isolation Read online

  “Apparere!”

  After a pause, it became obvious that the telltale glow that heralded the arrival of words on the page would not be coming. I looked at Xavier, confused. Apparently I needed a new trick to access what messages hid on these pages, if anything at all.

  “Try again,” he gently nudged in my mind. I did, and again, I got nothing. Zip. Zero. Zilch. Nada.

  Then I had my ah-ha moment. Remembering that I had been holding the previous page when I was successful the first time, I reached out and laid my hand on the sheet of paper, repeating myself for the third time. This time the golden glow spread from the page instantly and the words formed as if rising up from deep water. Almost an entire page, also in my mother's handwriting, lay before me.

  My dearest daughter,

  I assume if you are reading this now, you have probably made it safely to the cabin. I hope Xavier has found you. You can trust him. He will help you through what will be coming next. I don't know how long it will take me to make it to the cabin. It depends on how things are going in the other realms.

  Know that I have always kept an eye on you. Wherever you see my hummingbirds, I am watching over you. If you are ever in trouble, know that only death will stop me from reaching you and coming to your aid.

  I'd hoped to be the one to explain our legacy to you. There are so many things for you to learn before your twenty-first birthday, it is hard to decide where to direct you to look first.

  The door at the end of the hall is visible to anyone who makes it through the security to enter the cabin, but only your own magic will be able to access it. It is heavily protected, and you will understand why once you enter. The iron medallion that is placed where the doorknob should be will recognize your blood. A single drop is all it will take to release the spell for the first time. After you have accessed the room once, only your magical signature and will to enter will be required.

  The book on the pedestal is our family heirloom. It will tell you much of what you need to know about our story, our powers, and our great responsibilities, passed through your maternal lineage. Each of us before you have made our own personal entries in it. Some day you will add to it as well.

  I hope to be joining you soon, and I will try to contact you if I am able. When you believe you have learned all you can from the book, move on to the next page in the file. But please wait until you are ready. Each step you take on this journey leads you closer to great danger. I want to ensure you are as prepared as you can possibly be.

  I love you. I have every faith that you will fully come into your own unique powers and be unstoppable.

  Love always,

  Mom

  Wow. Just wow. I stared at the note for an unknown amount of time, and then looked up at Xavier.

  “Well… There's no time like the present, right?”

  I grabbed a sharp knife from the cutlery drawer and headed down the hall. After a brief consideration of the best place to draw blood, I decided that blood was blood, and swiftly pricked my left index finger while squeezing it slightly to produce a single drop of bright red blood. Inhaling sharply at the sudden sting, I stared at the crimson drop as it formed on the tip of my finger. I pressed the droplet to the very center of the iron medallion and held my breath.

  The medallion absorbed the blood, leaving no trace of it visible to the naked eye. Immediately the door began to glow, giving off a warmth I could feel. An almost inaudible humming followed, and as quickly as it started, it all ceased and the door swung open soundlessly. As we stepped through the doorway, sconces on the wall lit the room, allowing me my first peek into my heritage.

  I stood stock still for a moment and took in the sights around me. The air was cool, and I couldn't tell if the goose bumps were because of the temperature or the atmosphere of the room itself. Shelves carved from the stone of the mountain lined the walls, holding many, many, old books, baskets, loose papers and vials. Rough wooden bookcases were placed in other areas, also with full shelves.

  The temperature was chilly, but not cold, and the air was still, but not stale. Awareness washed over me as if the room itself wanted to make an announcement. As I continued to stare in awe, a bright white light began to glow from the only empty corner in the room. It grew so bright, I needed to shield my eyes. When the light had abated and I could see again, an ethereal figure stood before me.

  “Welcome, Everleigh. I am Celeste, one of only two other Chosen Soul Scribes, aside from the original creation, that has ever existed. I am here to be your guide.”

  For a second, I was absolutely speechless. “Um, hi.” The few words I could get out lacked any intelligence.

  She smiled gently. “I have been waiting for you. May I give you a brief introduction to myself and our world?” I could barely nod in response. “As a Chosen, I had the gift of prescience, the ability to see the future. While I could not see everything, my sight allowed me to see future generations, and the timing for the next Chosen to arrive. When it became time for me to pass my powers on to my daughter, I elected to bind my soul to this place in hopes that when the time came, I could be of assistance to you. My soul has been resting here, unbeknownst to any other, until you arrived.”

  I couldn't imagine what she had been doing in here over the years, and had a hard time accepting the fact she had been waiting for me all this time. I remained speechless as I listened to her continue with her story.

  “I left this room only to watch over your birth, aware of the plan your mother had laid out for you, and then returned here to wait. I have since spent my time learning everything in the study, so I would be able to assist you when you needed it. My hope is that I will be able to direct you to the information you come to the study to find. There is vast knowledge contained here, which will help you along your way, but finding what you need may not always be easy.”

  Looking around at all of the shelves and crates, I could see how it might be hard to find things. Unlike a library, there didn't seem to be a computer system, or even a card catalog to refer to when doing research.

  “It is difficult for me to manifest myself visually, so I must rest now. Just know that while you may not always see me, I am always present. All you need to do is ask for my help, and I will do what I can.”

  She faded slowly until there was nothing left to see, her light reabsorbed by the stone of the mountain. Holy cow. Had that been real? I looked over at Xavier to be sure he had seen what I had seen. He just nodded. Well, at least I knew I wasn’t hallucinating. While it seemed slightly strange, it made me feel better to know I had someone else on my side to help me get through what amounted to an insane amount of knowledge that I needed to assimilate. Might as well get started. I instinctively knew we didn't have much time.

  “Thank you, Celeste.” I hoped she could hear me.

  On the pedestal my mother had written of lay an old leather-bound book. The symbol branded into the leather of the cover matched that on the door and the one on the necklace I wore. I saw it etched into the stone of the pedestal itself, as well as the floor and walls. The title embossed on the cover of the book read simply: Soul Scribe. I looked at Xavier incredulously. Soul Scribe? That sounded like some serious stuff.

  “Go ahead,” he encouraged me.

  I let my eyes wander the room for a few moments more, taking it all in. Approaching the pedestal and staring at the volume left me feeling awed. And a tiny bit apprehensive, honestly. I had yearned for answers my entire life, yet when presented with a book full of them, I hesitated. I wished for the millionth time my mother could be the one giving me my answers.

  I realized that, in a way, they were coming from her. . .and my grandmother and great-grandmother. That made an odd thought for me. I'd never really thought past who my biological parents had been; the idea of an entirely different extended family became a bit overwhelming.

  I knew I didn't have time for a delay while I processed my emotions, so I needed to be getting to it. I reached out and touched the book rev
erently, marveling at the softness of the leather. At the contact, a soft light emanated from the medallion and the latch opened with a click. I opened it to the first page, and it greeted me with a family tree, of sorts. All women, each with only one daughter.

  My mother, Amara. My grandmother, Lienne. (That name sounded incredibly familiar to me, although I couldn’t immediately place when or where I had heard it.) My great-grandmother. The time line went back generation after generation.

  I searched out Celeste’s name. It had a place generations back, and we shared a birthday. Each entry included the full name and birth dates; though I thought they seemed awfully far apart to be including each generation. My own record showed the only one that was different. In the place of my name someone had penned a generic entry: baby girl, June 21. Each of us had been born on, or within a few days of, the summer solstice.

  The first few pages of writing were filled with the explanation of a Soul Scribe. I immediately immersed myself in their story. My story. The book began with an overview of the Soul Scribes in general. I read the first few passages out loud, softly.

  “There is only a single, fully powerful, Soul Scribe in existence at any given time. Each Soul Scribe gives birth to a single child, a daughter, to whom she passes the mantle of power when the time is right. A special invocation ceremony is required, and she then has all the powers a Scribe is meant to wield. The magic of the Soul Scribe is ancient and precious, and therefore highly protected.”

  The book went on to explain how a Soul Scribe's magic worked and the responsibilities. It also told how magic becomes woven into the tapestry of a soul, and the ways a Scribe can alter it.

  The information written in these pages gave me some insight into the world I had been born of. As I read the words, I made note of the individual handwriting that the passages displayed. While each entry blended seamlessly with the next, you could tell they were written by different hands over time. All the pages in the book appeared to be made of the same paper, but the inks were distinctive.

  Continuing on, I read of the dangers that a Scribe’s abilities presented if they should fall into the wrong hands. Because they have the power to both attach magic to a soul, as well as strip it away, there powers have long been sought by those who had evil intentions.

  I shuddered at the thought. To imagine what someone with horrific intentions could do to the world if they managed to get hold of that kind of power terrified me. I still had so many questions, but I had many more pages of the book to get through in a short amount of time, so I just kept reading.

  An abbreviated explanation of how souls were designed followed. It became apparent that this book had been written as a supplement, not a total lesson, in what a Soul Scribe needed to know. It made a good starting place for me though.

  “All souls are made up of individual threads woven together to create a unique tapestry, or identity. No two are ever completely alike. These threads are invisible to all but the Chosen Scribes, and only when there is great need to the realms is a Chosen born. All of an individual’s traits and characteristics are represented within the tapestry of their being.

  “Magic is woven into the pattern of individual souls by the runes. One responsibility of the Soul Scribe is to ensure the magic needed to keep the universe in balance is distributed to the chosen souls. The runes are inscribed into The Books, and then woven by magic into their souls. The soul is then assigned a body in one of the realms and goes on to serve its purpose. The only souls that a Soul Scribe is unable to tamper with are their own, and that of their offspring.”

  I stared ahead dumbly. “Chosen Scribes.” I could see the threads. Celeste was right. But what exactly would a “great need” be? I wasn’t sure I liked the sound of that one bit. I decided to take a little breather and go over what I had learned with Xavier. I needed to see how much he already knew, and whether he had any ideas about what we should do next.

  Chapter Four

  Leaving the study, I headed into the main room of the cabin, searching for Xavier. He had ensconced himself on the chair by the fire and sat staring out the window toward the forest. I took the chair across from him, sighing as I sat.

  “Chosen Scribe. I am not just a Soul Scribe, but a Chosen.” The words seemed unreal as they left my lips, and I couldn't quite force them to make sense. “What exactly would a great need be? It says the Chosen are only born when there is a great need.”

  “Unfortunately, I cannot answer that question. My knowledge is limited to what I have learned from your mother over the years, and we never discussed that subject. I imagine there is great unpleasantness on the horizon.”

  “Fantastic. Too bad I didn't have my whole life to prepare for this. My mother will probably show up and tell me it's go time before I can even figure out what to do with my magic.” I had occasionally harbored petulant thoughts growing up and struggled with abandonment issues. No matter how fabulous the parents who chose you turn out, you still wonder why the ones who made you didn't keep you.

  For me, knowing that she has been out here all this time and never once made an effort to make contact hurt. She had been so close the whole time, and still let someone else raise me. Fortunately, the unhappy thoughts rarely lasted long, and I still waited on pins and needles for the moment we would be reunited.

  As we sat, I began feeling disoriented and somewhat uneasy. The disquieting feeling wouldn't dissipate, and as I peered out the front windows, I noticed an eerie mist had rolled in. It didn't enter the clearing, though my instincts told me it wanted to.

  “Xavier!” I whisper shouted at him. “XAVIER!!”

  He turned to the window to see what the big deal might be. I pointed wordlessly outside.

  “Say Praesidium! Out loud, but quietly. Quickly!” He jumped from his chair as he gave me instructions.

  I quickly uttered the word per his instructions and backed toward the rear of the cabin, heading for what I felt was the safest room.

  “It's okay. The cabin will protect us, if protection is needed. The wards woven into the wood itself and the surrounding forest are some of the strongest ever cast. Generation upon generation of scribes have called this place home, and each has added their own layer of security to what they inherited.

  “I'm not certain the mist out there is malicious, but I'd rather be safe than sorry. Nothing can see inside, so we shall just watch for now. It could be they are after your mother, but we don't want to let on that you exist if they don't already know. There is a reason your mother chose to hide the fact that her heiress had been born.”

  I returned to my chair and shuddered as I watched the mist; it seemed to curl around an invisible barrier, looking for a point of entry. It almost reminded me of watching a mime pretend to pat an invisible wall. Whatever its intentions were, it gave me a serious case of the creeps.

  “What the hell is that? It almost looks alive!”

  “I do not know exactly what it is, other than a reminder that we need to carry on with your training.”

  “Oh! Just one second, I almost forgot!” I jumped from the chair and headed for my pack. While reading through the book earlier, I noticed a page about communications across great distances. The picture depicted a small, leather-bound journal similar to one which I had received from the lawyer on one of my birthdays. When the first note instructed me to bring the things that were important to me, this made it into the stack of items.

  According to the story the lawyer told, the midwife had sent a box to his office not long after I was adopted. In it were wrapped gifts with instructions on which year they were to be delivered. Her only explanation for them was that they were items from my mother that she had wanted me to have. I wasn't much of a writer, so the pages remained empty, but I had treasured it, knowing that it came from my mother.

  “Look at this. I saw one just like it in the book in the study, and the passage said we can use it to communicate. They are created in pairs or sets, made specifically to send messages to whoe
ver carries the mate. I'm not exactly sure how to use it, but since I have this one, I'd bet my mother carries the other half of the pair.”

  “You are probably right. Perhaps we should decode the next note in the file? I believe that time is something we don't have the luxury of squandering at this point.”

  Both of us headed for the kitchen table, where I left the folder lying earlier. Flipping through the various pages, I came to a stop when I reached the next blank sheet. This time there was very little hesitation on my part. I simply laid my hand on it and spoke the appropriate word. My mother's handwriting again appeared after a brief glow, and, sure enough, the instructions for activating the journal appeared. The note that surfaced was a brief-and-to-the-point passage.

  Everleigh,

  It is my hope that you brought the journal and are ready to use it. I have its mate with me. You must activate it by placing a drop of your blood on the back of the medallion then fit it into the cover of the journal. These two journals are set up for our personal use only. There is nobody else who can activate them, nor use them.

  Once I receive your message, I will answer as swiftly as I can. Please do not be alarmed if it takes some time.

  Love,

  Mom

  I sighed. Why did so many of the magical things require a drop of my blood? I definitely preferred just saying the magic word and going on my way. Grabbing the same knife off the counter I had pricked my finger with earlier, I followed her instructions for the activation. The journal hummed quietly for a second, and that was the only indication anything had changed.

  Grabbing a pen, I sat to write in it for the first time. I stared at the empty page and paused. What did you say to the mother you had never truly known? I wanted it to be meaningful, but these pages were hardly the place to for heartfelt conversations.

  I looked at Xavier, somewhat surprised at my hesitation. “I don't know what to say to her.”