The House of Grey- Volume 4 (37 page)

He looked around
as
Monson and Marie nodded their approval. “So the question now is
,
how is this suppose
d
to help you master
Kei
?”

They
relapsed into silence
.

“It
is
a symbol
.
” Marie’s quiet voice carried as she looked over
their
shoulder
s.
“
A
representation of something fundamental to learning how to use magic.”

“How do you figure that?”
wondered
Monson
.

“If you think about what they did
,
that is the only possible solution
.
” Marie stared at the notepad in Grayson’s hand. “They
did not
teach you anything
, but
only demonstrated the process
,
almost like they expected you to understand the parts if they could show you the whole.”

“
T
hat kind of makes sense
,
”
agreed Grayson
. “What was it that Dawn said about the first step of magic? Something about knowledge and belief
.
”

“Y
eah.
” Monson attempted to recall his second encounter with Dawn. “Dawn said that most people had
the
ability to
perform
magic, but it was their own thought process that
prevented
them
from using it
.” 

“Well
,
perhaps if you
start with just trying to consciously access your power?
”
suggested
Marie
.
“Maybe the process will come to you after that.”

Monson nodded
.
“I guess I could give it a try. It
’
s
not like I have anything else to go on.”
Then a
thought occurred to
him
.

“Hold up
.
Grayson you’re a member of H.U.M.A.N
.E
and can at least use AOI. Can you teach me how to use my power?”

Grayson shook his head regretfully
.
“I wish I could. But unfortunately that’s not how it works. Remember I told you that Sentinels are found and then trained? The reason for
that
is because we have not figured out how to awaken powers
; it
’
s only after someone discovers them on their own that we can offer any training.
”

Monson sighed heavily
.
“I figured you
’
d
say that.” 

With nothing else to say, Monson
walked
to the center of the clearing
, twenty or thirty
yards from Grayson and Marie. He stood
, closed his eyes, and began
gathering his concentration
,
searching
for
anything uncommon within the depths of himself. The Magi Blade was a symbol
,
a
symbol of something fundamental, but that process ha
d
to have a
beginning
.

Find it
, he said to himself
.
Find
the
beginning of that process
.

A half an hour passed with nothing.

Monson
opened his eyes and
took notice of Grayson and Marie standing passively at the edge of the clearing
,
giving him their undivided attention. He
studied
their faces and almost laughed.  Amazing how
he
could tell so much about what a person was thinking from
a
simple facial expression. Grayson watched Monson with calm, studious, unmovable faith.
N
o matter the odds
,
Grayson
Garrett
believed in him. There was no
trace of
doubt anywhere on
his
countenance
. Marie’s expression was equally
serene,
though Monson had the feeling that her
musings were slightly different; it
was not him she believed in. 
Both
continue
d
to watch him for
more than
an hour with
out
moving a muscle or saying
a
word. They just watched as Monson pursued
every
creative avenue, lurking expanse
,
and fleeting impression that
popped
up
within the depths
of
his mind. He tried to recreate the situations
when
he
had
inadvertently used magic
,
hoping to mimic the outcome
,
only to have all
his
attempts
end
in failure.

He
was starting to get frustrated. He sat down on
the
ground intending to rest
.
U
nable to tame his wandering mind, he simpl
y
reviewed what he knew.  He just did not understand how he could be expected to sort this out on
his
own
,
or why Dawn and the others
were not
more forthcoming. What was it he was supposed to do? What was he missing?
His
thoughts were a bit overwhelming and Monson could not help but despair a bit. He again thought back to his dream, trying to remember the acts of Yari and Gi and the words of Dawn.  As he tried to again thrust himself into the dream
,
it was at
that
moment that he
remember
ed
…

“
Look deep within the depths of your heart and remember.  The power to perform will be
there
when you need it and the tools are all around if you know where to look. The air, the earth, the flame, the mist, and
the
heavens will guide you
.
”

Gi’s words echo
ed
in
the swirling depths
of his mind.

Still,
no revelation or inspiration came to him. He continued to ask himself, what was he supposed to do? Or better yet, what was he supposed to remember?

Not learn…he did not have to learn. He had to remember. There was a difference.

Monson closed his eyes
again
as he consider
ed
his
accumulated
experiences over the past months. He thought back to the first day he awoke in the hospital
,
the pain that raked his body and mind, and
the pitying
looks of unfamiliar individuals.  He recalled with greater detail the
distinct inner
ache like the pain of his body, soul and consciousness existed
on separate planes
. He thought about all the other weird feelings and emotions he had been having over the course of the year. The feeling of be
ing
watched, the feeling of being probed, the feeling of being invincible
,
the feeling of being loved. Loved?
W
as
he
loved? Could he really be loved? It was this last
thought
that hit him the hardest.

A soft breeze was blowing as the spring air wafted around him
,
bringing
on
another
of
those distinct feelings
.
A
calm and strangely reflective
one
that was both warm and
comforting
. A rare burst of spring sunshine
filled
the clearing and surrounding area
,
making him feel
the
experience
of the here and the now
, like so many others, held something both familiar and important. It was like a favorite childhood song long dismissed
,
but not forgotten
, flowed through his heart—his very soul.
  The
strange
feelings and
his occasional
recognition of
what had once been
familiar and common had become almost second nature for Monson since his awakening so many months ago. He and his memories
were
one and
the same
. He
was constantly
revisiting them, like favorite songs from a record played over and over again.
But
he was always left wondering what
he was
missing
—what was on the
scratched
portion
of that record—
and if
it
would ever come back.
Despite their weight, he was not worried about his missing memories
now
.
There was s
omething sweet about the tickle he felt in his heart and though it made him wish more th
a
n ever to know where it was coming from, he could not help but smile at the warmth that suddenly enveloped him. It was
then
, in that special
moment
,
that
something seemed to break inside of him and he heard another
vaguely familiar
voice
burst
out
from within
that
dark inner
chasm
that was his mind.
It was
a
husky voice that bo
a
sted
of
both confidence and wisdom. It was a very nice voice; one that he had forgotten
…
until now.

“
The b
lade—Monson
,
call upon the blade;
h
eart,
m
ind,
b
ody, focus
,
my son.”

Strange
images
flashed across Monson’s mind as the voice echoed all around him. A towering mountain, larger than any
he had
ever seen in
any of his daydreams or nightmares
, loomed in the distance
and
a beautifully paved path graced
its
edge, skirting
around
until it eventually
wound
up the
face
of
the
mountain.

Monson felt the familiar once more wash over him. He recognized this place.

Monson
walked towards
the path, to start on
this
path…
his
pathway
of
power…but unrecognizable symbols sailed through
his
consciousness, body and soul
,
stopping him from moving any f
a
rther. The symbols burned with light and
power. Burned...
something else
was burning
...

“
Arghhhhh
!
” screamed Monson
,
as he hit the ground. Tears flowed fast and
full
as memories of the past
w
racked his heart
,
seeping through the cracks of the path
and the
symbols that impeded him. The memories overshadowed and overcame the strange burning pain that thrashed
his
body and mind.
He
viewed a small portion of his past
,
grabbing hold of the memories and viewing them in all the
ir
painful glory. Monson’s heart stopped in his chest.

Monson realized that he knew; he
had known
all along.