Bound By Blood (3 page)

             
The young one nodded
, silently from underneath the cloak and hood,
and took the Crone’s hand as she led her through the
hallways of
the
slick stone.

             
"
Your secrets begin in a time known as the Age of Dusk within a dimension called

TE
Ŕ
AH
, which was a special gift
all of its own, filled with endless
realm
s
and a doorway to all universes
. And the lives in those
realm
s were the master bloodlines of
this
world you know as your own, Earth.”

             
“Why was it called the Age of Dusk?” The young one asked.

             
“We called it that because TE
Ŕ
AH was on the verge of a great shift into something
quite different that what it was
. It
was
filled with enlightenment
at one time,
but
then suddenly the tables turned and we entered into a phase of blindness. It was the point
when the light fades and slips away from us while we stand on the verge of complete
darkness. Even night has light, child, but not during the dusk of it.
"

             
"And this Age of Dusk changed everything?"

             
"Yes.
That is why your journey will begin here.
What
happen
ed
in
this age would
end up shaping
the future and
actually
change
d
the face of TE
Ŕ
AH drastically. In fact, it is only
the beginning of a journey which would lead us here to
this
dimension
, this prison
realm
,
called Earth.”

             
The
Crone lifted her staff, waving it across the hidden door. Its stone and rock shifted, revealing
a large room inside. Air stale with time poured out but a soft light shimmered forth from its
darkness.

             
The young girl started to go in but the Crone stopped her by putting her staff against
her chest. She was gentle, only wishing to delay her entrance into the mysterious lair.

             
“I must warn you now
,
before you enter,” she said with serious eyes. “The essence
from within that room is great. Once I speak the words of power, the stories will play out
before you, making them seem so real. You will not only watch them play out but you will
feel
all that those who lived them felt. You will be but a ghost there, unable to interfere or
make change, for the
things done have already come to be.
Do you understand?"

             
"I . . . I think I do."

             
"You
must
before you begin.
You must realize there will be pain and mistakes, but you will be powerless to undo a thing that has happened.
You will be unseen, yet will
feel,
and
know
every sensation, every emotion, and every bit of agony. Once their stories begin, there will be no stopping them until they find their
end.
There will be no leaving the room until all is told.
Do you understand? Are you prepared to take such a journey?”

             
The young one nodded
. “What about the ones
that I have ties to and
what of my
birthright? Will I find them in this room? What happened to
them?”

             
"
You will know your birthright and so much more. It takes a strong heart to survive
this journey
you face now. And to discover it, will be to finally know who and what you are. You will take your place among those who battle, who fight, to make things right. Are you ready?”

             
"There is no other way? No warrior will awaken me?"

             
"No child, for those ways are lost. Now it is the truth of our
birthrights, which
awaken us. The reasons for this . . . you shall come to understand.
If
you continue. Now, are you ready?" T
he Crone asked again, and the girl nodded.
“So be it.”
             

             
The Crone led her into the room.
Its walls were high, slick, and brown like the rest of the cavern. Moisture dripped
from above them. Embedded in the walls were large crystals. They were clear, flawless, and
powerful. The soft light was coming from inside their sparkling depth.

             
The Crone raised her staff and called out in an ancient language. While she spoke, the
light from the crystals became even brighter.

“Bound by blood,

By blood we are bound.

By my blood
,
I say awaken now.

By the one of blood I bring,

Show unto her the truth of things.

Let the past now sing.

For now comes the time of her A
wakening.

Open her eyes

Set this knowledge free.

S
o Mote It Be.”

             
A blinding light exploded throughout the room, causing their eyes to sting. The
ground beneath them seemed to rumble as the door behind them shut and sealed.
A mist of
many colors swirled around their bodies
and shot forth into the darkness above.
Sparks of energy fell upon their faces. Before
them,
a veil lifted and a strange vision unfurled.
A sheet of transparent silver hovered over the crystals. The silver turned to a watery glass.
The vision was reflected from there.

             
Silence fell as both grew still, with nothing in motion but the sparks falling gently
upon them. Time seemed to freeze. It did not exist here. The coldness of the room became
warm while a moment locked into an eternity. They found themselves staring at a woman
sleeping
, tossing, and turning as if caught up within the web of a dream
. The watery glass rippled a bit but became clearer. The girl standing beside the
Crone nearly swooned with awe.

             
"She is beautiful."
T
he young one
whispered,
a
s she traced every detail of the sleeping woman
with her
starving eyes.
The tip of her finger swirled over the reflection, over her long raven hair flowing
like a silk garland, softly lingering upon a comforter
the color of wine. The chamber around her looked medieval and made of stone.

             
"Who is she?" t
he young
one asked
.

             
And before the Crone could answer, they
heard something whisper, many voices all at once, whispers which
said,
"Who
is this that has resurrected the pagães of TE
Ŕ
AH?
Who awakens the past and what is lost forever?”
A great sigh fell from their lips.

             
"Well I
cannot
see you! Show yourselves!" The girl became bucky, and challenged them but the Crone jerked her back.

             
"Silence, child, and listen."

             
“Ah we see…
Now we see who this creature is that challenges me." Again, so many voices cackling as one. "We see w
ho you are now and who you shall soon be.”
Warm laughter filled the space.
“You of the blood who call to us,
beckoning
the echoes of past truths be shown.
Here we give unto you what your heart doth ask…Now watch as we bring to life,
what is written in the stone!
”

             
And before either of them realized, the watery glass swallowed them up, until they were both nothing more than spirits
in the room
with the sleeping beauty
. . . watching . . . .

~
Chapter 1
~

It's Time

***

Mists disperse as visions renew.

Time’s a tale beckoning you.

Comes the hand and mournful cry,

Of silver reflecting the haunting of eyes.

She lost her tune to the music of dream.

When comes the dawn we forget these things.

And how our spirits attempt to fly,

Amidst the blend of redolent eyes.

Until it's time . . . .

***

World
:
TE
Ŕ
AH

Time:
The Age of Dusk

             
S
oft dreams
beckoned
to
her
from beyond the mists. A force
was
pulling her willfully onward until bright eyes surfaced through the haze.

             
Comfortably floating onward . . . It seemed she was floating.

             
Stop!
Her attention
was
snared on eyes
,
which burned like
c
risp, clear cobalt flames of
fire and ice. The power
of
the
soul wielding
them
was intense. Their essence was intoxicatingly
addictive.

             
“Come to me
,
Beloved
,
”
a
profound voice said. His face was hidden behind the thick folds of magical haze. “
No one
can keep us from being one.
Come
to me.”

             
“Who are you? Tell me your name. Let me see your face.” She almost cried. Her body moved in sync with the motion of the dream
--
mist
,
towards the voice which called to her. She searched through the mysterious
haze
. She was always searching. Finding
him
was like chasing the end of a rainbow. Somehow
,
the rainbow seemed easier than this.

             
“To remember my face
,
all you must do is look within your heart. To know my name
,
all you must do is look within your soul
.
I
have always been with you. The two of us are
one
in the eyes of the Goddess.
You, Blood of my blood . . .”
His voice faded.

             
She became afraid. Panic and sadness seemed to overwhelm her. 

             
Not again
.
H
er thoughts raced
with
silent prayer.
I am almost there. I am almost to him. I can almost see
, a
lmost touch. Please do not let the dusk steal him away from me again. Let me know who he is
.

             
She began to run frantically through the mist
, c
atching his eyes, here or there, running this way or
that way. Each direction she her desperation brought her to
, she only foun
d more mist. Not
the visage wielding those addictive eyes
, n
ever found the one who haunted her dreams.