Chosen (8 page)

             
“Watch your step,” Dorien warned.  Something in his tone unnerved me. “We can’t have you getting hurt.” The fact that I hadn’t noticed his closeness until now enhanced his creepiness factor, but I brushed it off.  Creepy or not, he had just saved me from certain tragedy.

             
“Thank you,” I sighed and rolled my eyes at myself. “Disaster averted.”

             
“I’ll be right here in case you need my assistance again,” he vowed formally, carefully replacing a piece of stone I had dislodged.

             
“Okay…” I nodded and twisted back around.  My heart skipped at least ten beats, and then it took several more beats for my brain to catch up with what my eyes were seeing.  “Are you seeing this?” I asked Dorien slowly.

             
“Do you mean the ruins?” he asked as his eyes swept across what used to be the dusty mezzanine floor.

             
“No, the-“ I stopped when his serious face took on a more skeptical tone. “Uh, nevermind,” I stuttered. I’m sure he would be pumped about his future leader being not only a klutz, but also someone suffering from hallucinations.  I whirled back around and sucked in a deep breath as I took it all in.  I was now standing at the entrance of a massive stone building - complete with walls, arched doorways, and stone pillars supporting the stone roof. 

             
As my stomach performed somersaults in revolt, I braced myself and stepped through a doorway into the most beautiful room I had ever seen.  The ceiling and interior pillars were intricately carved and chiseled into masterpieces of Greek architecture, representing every animal and creature known to man.  The most impressive features were the colorful tile mosaics that covered the floor and walls; beautiful paintings of women bathing, bloody battles, ships and serene underwater views.  Not one piece of the structure had been left neglected.

             
One scene in particular stole my attention and then drew me in completely, as I walked over to get a closer look.  It was a stunning portrayal of a woman cradling an infant.  Long blonde hair framed her startling blue eyes as she gazed down at the small child with love.  The next scene displayed the same woman kneeling on the banks of a wide river; her arms stretched out.  The baby dangled over the edge, dangerously close to the water.  My world stopped as it dawned on me what I was looking at.  The woman was in the process of dipping his body into the river, ensuring his safety by holding onto to one part of his body.  His heel.  Two words had been etched above the scene in Greek, but the scrawled letters were not difficult to decipher.  I knew both names all too well: Thetis and Achilles.

             
My hand flew up to my mouth in disbelief while I continued to study scene after magnificent scene, artfully splashed across the stone wall.  Countless bloody battles illustrated the mighty Achilles dressed in full body armor, carrying a majestic shield and riding a prestigious, armored horse.  Several more characterized Thetis reaching out to him from the background, unable to gain his attention as fear masked her breathtaking features.  More battles followed before the final scene; set in a garden where he lay amongst the flowers with an arrow through his heel.  The women bending over him wore long robed dresses; weeping and crying out to the heavens in distress. My legs grew weary and tears, swarming with every emotion, burned my eyes.  I closed my eyes and shakily reached out to steady myself against the wall.  As I did, vivid images on the wall came alive; assaulting my mind with the sounds of men yelling and fighting, the spraying of blood as man after man lost his life to the sword of another, and an unbearable feeling of despair as a woman began to wail.  I retracted my hand from the stone and jumped back in horror. 

             
“Finding one’s true family history can be quite startling at first.”

             
I spun around at her thick Italian accent, and squinted in pain as a ray of sunlight pierced through a thin crack in the wall; hitting me square in the face.  As I shifted out of its blinding path, my visitor came into view and the true force of her presence struck me.  When I continued to stare speechlessly at her, she smiled wholeheartedly and stepped towards me.  Now I knew how Tina had felt.

             
“I am Nemertes.” A distinguished lift of her chin followed her formal introduction. “Nereid and goddess of wisdom.”  A memory clicked into place, and I was taken back to an antiquity experience I had seemingly ages ago.

             
‘What have you named her?’

             
‘ Anastasia Nemertes Theophanides.’

             
“My middle name…” I whispered in awe.  My words were met with a tender smile that lit up the room.

             
“Yes,” she confirmed tenderly. “Your mother and I were very close.  I am one of only two sisters who knew of your entrance into this world.  Our silence was very important to Thetis, for reasons known only to her.” She tilted her head in thought, “The resemblance is astounding.” Another memory from an antiquity flashed across my mind’s eye: the face of a striking blonde woman with pale streaks throughout her hair and sparkling blue eyes.  She must be the second sister who knew about my birth, since I had never seen the woman standing before me.  Long, straight chestnut brown hair framed pale green eyes, surrounded by olive skin.  She wore a white dress exactly like mine, with the exception of a light green strip of fabric draped over her left shoulder, held in place by green and white jewels.  I was taken by the serene wisdom that I sensed emanating from her.  I instinctively trusted her.

             
“Where are we?” I forced myself to speak, unable to take my eyes off of her.

             
“This is the spiti of Achilles; your brother.”

             
“My brother…” I tried to the words on my tongue. “But, it was ruins…a couple of minutes ago…” 

             
“Only those deemed worthy will see,” she explained cryptically with a knowing smile. 

             
“Oh,” I breathed.  It only made sense; the same had been true for the Fortunate Isle, as well as for my mother’s house.             

             
“Come.  Allow me to show you something.” I followed her to the other side of the spiti to a second wall decorated with mosaics, as she continued her explanation. “Many make the mistake of thinking that solid objects and structures do not possess an essence.  It is true that they do not possess essence at their time of construction; however, the living beings therein provoke the energy that will reside there.  The energy, or essence, of every building remains even after its physical shell has fallen away.  So what we are seeing is this spiti’s essence.  A building’s essence also has the ability to grow and shift as changes occur.  As you can see, there have been recent additions to this particular spiti.”

             
She backed away gracefully and swept her hand out; allowing me a full view of the paintings.  There was another picture of a blonde woman smiling down at a baby girl, a scene of the same woman and a man setting a basket down and weeping, a little girl with blonde hair hiding in a closet, and then that same little girl clutching a gun with resolve flashing in her eyes.  My mouth dropped further when I came to a mosaic of my likeness swimming with a dark haired boy, collecting baby sea turtles during a storm, arguing with Keto, and finally holding a pomegranate with Persephone and Nadia peering over my shoulder. And I thought that Facebook was a weird phenomenon…

             
“I…this is…”

             
“Your history has imprinted itself upon your brother’s spiti, being that yours is not ready yet.”

             
“Yet?”

             
“All will be revealed…in time,” she responded wisely.  She was good at this whole cryptic-thing.

             
“Time and I sometimes don’t agree,” I grinned sheepishly. “Patience isn’t an ability of mine.”

             
“Another trait you inherited from your mother,” she chuckled, as she reached out and grazed my aquamarine necklace with her fingertips. “You have much ahead of you, young goddess.”

             
“I feel completely lost right now,” I admitted shyly, somehow wanting to bare my soul to this woman.

             
“Of course you do,” she said softly as she took my hand. “But that is when our instincts are at their sharpest.  The path of a goddess is never easy, which is why
you
were Chosen, Anastasia.  You are at your best when your back is against the wall, when you have no other options, and when you feel you are at your weakest.  Your parents were no different.”

             
“So you knew my father?  Do you know where he is now?” My voice leapt an octave as anxiety about my father’s whereabouts surfaced.

             
“Your father was a loyal and distinguished man with a true heart of gold.  I can recall the night he was killed in detail.  Your mother took it quite hard.”

             
“But, I saw my mother in the Underworld…” I started to explain. She raised an eyebrow in surprise. “She told me he was still alive.”

             
She furrowed her brow in deep thought. “I suppose it could be possible, if…”

             
“If what?” I asked eagerly. Unfortunately, she simply smiled and took my hand; squeezing it supportively.

             
“We will have ample time to step back in time and discuss your history,” she urged, and then led me out the back entrance of the spiti. “But at the present moment, it is time to take a step towards your future.”

             
We were instantly drenched in sunshine as we strolled out into the open air.  After descending another set of stone steps that put forth their best effort to trip me, we found ourselves in an extravagant courtyard; abundant with lush flowering bushes and trees.  Nemertes escorted me to the center of the courtyard and abruptly oscillated to face me; a resolute calmness shadowing her pale green eyes.

             
“How much have you learned about your Epiphany Ceremony?” she questioned me.

             
“My ‘Epiphany Ceremony’?” I repeated; utterly clueless.

             
“Every Tyde who has been Chosen must take part in an Epiphany Ceremony on their eighteenth birthday.  During that time their essence is fulfilled to its absolute entirety, and that is when they truly become immortal.  You have been Chosen specifically to be the Leader of the Tydes, however you were not Chosen to be a Nereid because your mother could only choose you for one specific calling.  All that means is that your future sisters must each
Choose
you separately in order for you to be welcomed into our sisterhood.  Are you aware of what happens when a descendent is Chosen?”

             
“The god or goddess who Chooses them, must give them part of their own essence, right?”

             
“That is correct.  So you see, in the few months you have been reacquainted with our world, you have exceeded our expectations and have easily proved your strength and loyalty to the Tyde Order.  We wanted to invite you here today to allow some of your sisters to Choose you.”

             
“Wow…” I responded wide-eyed. “Do they all have to…Choose me?”

             
She nodded in confirmation. “Not all believe you are ready; however, I have a feeling they will be convinced one way or another before your Epiphany Ceremony on your birthday, which is January 1
st
.” She winked at me and then said, “Now, place your hand on top of mine, palm up.” 

             
I did as she instructed.  A peacefulness fell over her face and she closed her eyes.  A slight tingling sensation stirred in the middle of my palm; gradually spreading throughout my entire hand. I watched with utter fascination as drops of sparkling clear liquid began to seep up from my skin, forming a small puddle in the middle of my palm.  When Nemertes opened her eyes, the sparkling puddle detached itself from my palm, formed a small droplet that hovered precariously in the air for several seconds, then burst and disappeared.

             
When I jumped in surprise at the mini explosion, Nemertes snickered softly and kissed my forehead.  She paused for several seconds as she met my eyes once more.  In a soft but firm voice she spoke in Greek.

             
“Echete Epilexei.”

             
Before I could ask her what that meant in English, or how glittering water had percolated in my perfectly dry palm, she strode gracefully to the edge of the courtyard and chose a spot to stand.  Not knowing what else to do, I inspected my hand; finding only the same skin and nails that were there ten seconds ago.  I didn’t feel any different, but maybe I wouldn’t until all of the Nereids Chose me?  I’d also like to ask Nemertes if Keto was included in the ‘all Nereids’ comment.  I had a feeling the only thing she’d want to ‘Choose’ me for was a punching bag.