Derive (12 page)

Chapter Ten

Skylynn

In the midst of medieval times in the dimension of Infante, the image of a young lavender blonde was crouched by a low burning lamp in the cellar of her home.

Skylynn BellaRose had breathed life for more years than she could care to remember, but she was in the same form. Immortal. Suspended at an age that barely reached twenty mortal years. Made that way by her family lineage. She was born of the Dominarum coven. The daughter of Saige, her father Lorecan had perished when she was just a babe. The story of how or why was unknown to Skylynn.

She had heard the whimsical tale, heard how he came from a far-off land, how he stole her mother’s heart, that he held a great power, had a vast mind that spoke of another reality—not realms, not dimensions, but another reality, a bright one, one that was made of balance.

The oldest of the coven sometimes spoke of him as the anniversary of the date he perished arrives. Each year, Skylynn would hide herself and listen as closely as she could to the story her mother would never speak of.

They said Saige knew who Lorecan was before he ever arrived, that she dreamed of him, that their love was swift but powerful enough that the energy between them would last forevermore. The only one they loved more than each other was Skylynn; they had a great fear for her, for her path. The elders stated that he left this reality to return to his so that he could protect Skylynn from being pulled from this life.

No matter how many stories she heard, no understanding came to her. Her mother Saige still saw her as a child, which frustrated Skylynn. To mortal man, they resembled the same age—that is, unless Saige chose to look older in public.

On this night, hiding behind the sounds of a distant storm and the late hour, Skylynn was determined to find answers.

Her mother had taught her well. Each moon, a new text was given to Skylynn. Saige would walk with her in the lands around their home and debate the words written. The pace of the schooling was irritating to Skylynn; she felt the need to rush, the breath of darkness on her heels. She was missing something, and she knew that. It troubled her to feel this deep worry without reason. When her mother refused to answer questions about her father, about the dreams her mother had of Skylynn
’s life plan, and turned the conversation instead to the topics of patience, calmness, of moving with the rhythm of the universe, Skylynn would all but scream with anger and pure frustration.

Years back, she even cried, confessed to her mother that there was an endless ache in her heart. That she was but half. The only comfort she was offered was the promise that pain is a gift; it is the mark of life and experience.

More than once, Skylynn had tempted the magic she was carefully taught to respect. She used the magic to gaze forward, and to gaze back. She knew that she had tested the patience of the universe, that she was in danger of compromising her good grace with white magic.

Skylynn had heard others mention that she ached the way she did because she was missing the father she never knew. That she felt abandoned. Skylynn did ache for the man she never knew, but even that idea did not sit well with her. And all in all, her uncle Jamison had filled the fatherly role in her life perfectly. He protected her and her mother. Watched over them and even urged her mother, Saige, to reveal more.

When Skylynn dared to ask Jamison to speak of the dreams to her, he confessed that even he did not know them. It seemed that Skylynn’s mother guarded the knowledge of Skylynn’s future fiercely.

In this dark cellar, Skylynn
’s eyes moved to the violin beside her, the one she played every night, the one that she had never known life without. She reached to trace her hands across the inscription.
“My emerald love, worry not, for the music whispers your sacred path and eases the soul’s struggles.”

Earlier tonight while spying on the elders that were reminiscing of her father, Lorecan, she heard one of them compliment how well Skylynn played, how it was a gift that was heavily weighed in her soul. They were debating if that came from her father. One of the very oldest spoke with a slow smile and said to the others, “Don
’t you recall, that is a lover’s gift? It is his kiss of time, mark of memory.”

Living within this coven for so long, Skylynn knew how to read between words, knew how to measure the tone of the words spoken. In fact, she had learned those lessons the hard way. More than once, she had tried a new spell before she had time to study it. When scolded, she told her mother that she was ready to matter, ready to use the power she was born with.

Tonight was a risk. If she read this spell, if she sought this vision and the universe did not agree that the knowledge she was seeking was hers to find this night, then she would become a shadowed soul. Not alive, not dead, but shadowed. A universal time out, a penalty. She would not be openly seen among the living again until her time was to begin. Until all the stars aligned in the heavens.

Skylynn stared at that violin for hours as her thoughts weighed the risk against the emptiness in her heart, the pain she wore like a shield, one that sadly took away the pleasure of understanding patience.

Her internal argument went on until dawn was just moments away. In the end, she decided that this emptiness was calling her to something. That she could not wait for others to tell her when she was ready, for she was the only one that could feel the pain of her soul.

She began the incantation in a low murmur. The candles that had nearly burned to the ends of their wicks roared feet over her. The herbs before her began to smoke, and the violin started to tremble, somehow echoing its haunting sound all around her.

Then it happened. She felt a volt of energy. Her mind was submerged in otherworldly visions. She saw an emerald sea, felt lips upon her, a breath of life. She felt a calming energy pull her from that sea and secure her in its warmth. The energy was unexplainable—strong, powerful, protective. As the energy moved forward, she knew without a doubt it was masculine.

The visions were hard to clasp because her soul focused so heavily on the energy that made her feel complete; yet, she thought she saw an image that resembled her father, but he was at a distance, watching proudly as this energy she was consuming held her.

Then her mind went wild. She saw seduction, felt herself merging with this energy, but that was quickly overshadowed with so many visions of time in a distant future. As these moments played, showed her as weak, confused, timid, hidden from others, she heard a deep, calm voice tell her to be strong, to fight, to claw her way to him. That she was his.

Before she could comprehend any of this, the smoke from the herbs began to clear. She heard her mother scream, and Skylynn opened her eyes in time to see her flesh vanishing into a hidden veil; she felt the shadow come over her.

She knew. This act was a gift that came with a heavy price. Skylynn knew what she was looking for but now had no power or life-force on the mortal realm to find it. She was now meant to fret forevermore for a future that she knew she could not live without.

The ache she felt only bore deeper into her soul as she faded from her mother
’s eyes.

Chapter
Eleven

Aden

The pain in my body had long ago brought me to the point of fury. I didn’t understand, and I was sick of not understanding.

My life sounded like something that came out of some fantasy novel, one that seemed to have far too many dark twists.

I’d known since I was a boy that a fate like this would consume me. How could it not? My twin brother, along with my cousin, and a dear friend Charlie, could all see damned souls, hear their whispers.

No one could cope with that and not lose some sanity. The only thing that kept us in balance was music; at least it kept Draven, Charlie, and me in balance. Madison used art.

These last few months have been insane. We had been building toward an escape, a freedom that would allow us to understand why we could do what we could do.

Anyone can climb a mountain; only a few are brave enough to jump from the top.

I’d tell you that we were brave, that we faced this, but that would be a lie. We were forced into it. Charlie was blinded by an evil. She’s my brother’s girl, the love of his life, the one that kept us all sane by urging us to
help
the damned, not run from them.

Fighting to save her was not even a question. I knew if she ever crumbled, I would forevermore lose my twin. It was a full-time job just to keep him on the positive. He was a good guy, don
’t get me wrong, but he was always more troubled than me. You could hear that pain in his voice when he would sing, when he would play his guitar. I backed him up, playing the drums, giving a frame to the words he was creating, allowing the sound to be powerful, commanding, yet giving, swaying.

As soon as we saved Charlie from the darkness that was threatening her, it came after Draven, almost as if by some divine plan of doom. Watching him face that, watching his soul open up so that every part of his past lives were judged, was agony. I felt his pain. I felt his regret. I felt him hate who he was, and I could not bear it. I loved him. He was my brother, my twin; we understood each other on a level that I could not explain.

That tragedy somehow led us down a path that no one saw coming. It led us to another dimension. We were brought here by Willow. She was desperate to find her lover, and we knew how to travel to The Realm, the dream plane where everything wicked was manifested.

Since then, we had been told of this path that Willow and Landen were on. Apparently, at one time in some past life they were Aliyanna and Guardian, and in this life they were destined to finish what they started then.

The stories we heard of their perils matched what we could see in their souls. Each of us—my twin, Charlie, and Madison—could see worlds, see the pasts of others through their perception. The past behind the souls we were with now was so vast that it could easily drown and confuse you. My gift, like the others, varied. All in all, I saw lost dreams, what the soul yearns for but could never reach, more often than not because it lets fear and worry stop it.

A few days ago, a bolt of energy, an evil blow, struck me. That blow opened my mind ever so slightly. I witnessed my own past, one that was never seen before. I knew that I had lingered near these souls that I held close to me for a long time. That I had almost urged all of us together, like I knew we were supposed to stand united in a coming battle.

I tried to understand my path, my reasoning, and fell short every time. Even though I was flooded with countless past lives, it felt incomplete. Like I was missing half the riff, half the song.

My mind had settled a bit since that blow. I had fallen back into my common routine. Searching for logic, reason. I was near confident that Draven and Charlie were on their right course, had at least found a path they agreed to take.

Charlie had a ghost lingering near her. Not an evil one; I knew that much. I could not see this haunt, but I felt its energy. It was male. The name ‘Cashton’ whispered into my thoughts…

At first I was defensive, thinking of my brother, but I pushed those thoughts away before I ever spoke them because I sensed a brotherly love coming from that spirit. I trusted Charlie and Draven to tell me about it when they were ready.

Madison felt the same strive for independence that we all felt. For the past few days, she and I had been in the Blakeshire palace, in the dark dimension of Esterious. I stayed out of her way as the future king of this world clearly made a play for her heart.

I lost myself in the library that was given to her, one that was on this secure wing that we were given to stay in.

As I searched for the answers Madison needed, I fell deeper into the story of how this dimension came to be. To the tale of how this curse began. When I read Guardian and Aliyanna’s story, I felt an odd sense of déjà vu, like I had heard it before. The clear emotion of being proud of Guardian swelled in me.

I clearly envied him. I knew he did not feel this pain I felt in my soul, this gaping hole that told me I was missing something.

Sometimes that pain would ease, and in my dreams I would hear the faintest sound of a violin, smell ivory, sense oneness.

Madison confessed to me that she had heard the sound around me, that she had for a while and that the energy was growing restless. I told her that the energy was misunderstood; I could feel a timid soul beneath the aggressiveness that others surely felt.

Today, I nearly died. I felt the cold grip of it. I don’t know how Landen knew where I was, that I needed to be saved, but he appeared in that dark passageway. He used his gift to heal me.

I woke with a start, feeling his energy volt through me. As it brought me back to life, I had the strangest vision, one of me on a sandy bank pushing energy through him, saving him. I had not spent much time with him; I
’d seen more of him through others or the books I’d read than I had in conversation, but right then I felt a bond with him. One that made no sense. I didn’t recognize who I was in that flash of familiarity. I was more stubborn than I am today. I was focused on the task at hand, and nothing more.

In a dark hall, I could have sworn I saw a lavender angel grieving for me. I felt her tears soaking my shirt; could have been blood, too. But I will swear to you that an angel was crying over me as Landen—once named Guardian—saved my life.

I should feel no pain now. It should be like it never happened, but I felt agony. I felt a deep grief. I would die a thousand times over if I could just see that angel once more. If I could just look into her eyes once.

There was a knock at my door.
Rat a tat tat.

I had been twirling my drumsticks, more than likely pounding on the wall above my head where my arms were stretched out. I was sure someone was either checking on me or asking me to be silent. No doubt, everyone was trying to understand what had happened today. I didn
’t care to figure it out. For once, I was focusing on me, on what I saw, what I felt, and what that meant. Why at death’s door I seemed to find what I had always thirsted for.

The door opened, and Zander came in. He was the prince of this palace
’s closest friend. We had few words between us. I had no fault with him, none at all. He reminded me of Monroe, a young girl that we had brought here to try and save. I can’t explain how he reminded me of her; I think maybe it was because I felt peace in his essence, and when I looked into his energy I only saw light, a past that held understanding and no regrets.

Zander had brought me food not long ago, and right about now I was feeling guilty for not even touching it. I was starving, but not for that substance. I had barely dressed from my shower. I only had on jeans that I hadn
’t bothered to button all the way. I was too lost in my own thoughts, straining so hard to hear that faint sound of a violin in the air.

Trailing Zander was Preston, a six-year-old boy that carried the same peace that Zander and Monroe had.

Preston had his hands full of white flowers, ones I recognized. They were called
everminds
. They only grew on graves. The text I read said they grew on immortal graves, which all in all made no sense. What immortal would need a grave?

Oddly, he placed them in a circle around the floor. I leaned up on my elbows, gripping my drum sticks in each hand as if they were some kind of weapon.

Zander began to light candles that were a mix of white, red, and black.

“Are you here to tell me that I
’m going to die after all?” I quipped. Lord knew, I didn’t feel healed at all.

Zander let a laugh dare to emerge from his throat. Though he was young, our age, I knew from what I did see of his life, what I was told by the servants in this wing, that he was built for war; what kind of war, I don
’t know.

“Call us curious,” Zander said as he watched Preston whisper something, and to all outward appearances coax air into the vast ring of flowers and candles he had made.

A second later, that lingering sound of a violin ceased.

“Stop,” I growled as I sat up.

A pain ripped through me, one I didn’t recognize at first but somehow knew was grief. I had grown dependent on that sound. I moved through every emotion you could imagine as I heard the echo of it. I tried to tell myself that I was indifferent about being haunted by that rhythm, but angry for the fact that it had not always fully taken over. Now it was gone.

“Name that emotion,” Zander said evenly to me as if he were reading my mind, my emotions.

“Listen, man, I’m not in the mood. I have had a really bad day, and it has followed a string of them. I am barely holding on to my sanity, and whatever you are doing is cutting that frail line.”

“Why do you feel on the edge of sanity?” he questioned as I watched Preston look up at nothing and smile, even close his eyes slightly, as if someone were caressing his youthful face.

“Um, I don’t know—how about because I know evil is real, that it has struck everyone I care about? How about because I know I have lived before, that I know I am wandering listlessly in this world, striving to remember a forgotten path that is surely more cursed than I already am? Maybe because I fight a constant battle between worry and logic? Maybe because I almost died today, and I’m willing to do it again if I knew that there was a chance that I could grasp the clarity I felt for a fleeting moment?”

Zander let an ironic smile dangle on his lips. “It is said that a noble life plan is masked in a time of compromise.” I furrowed my brow at that. “You gave me reason, and not an emotion,” Zander said, raising his chin.

I let out a sigh, too over this to act as if I were stronger than I knew I was.

“Grief,” I said, feeling a stabbing pain in my soul, an unspeakable agony.

“And what births this grief?”

I glared at him. “I
’m not whole, and I know it.”

“Ah, but you are.”

I leaned forward on my knees, almost hiding my face behind my drum sticks.

“Only the deepest pain, the most wretched test of devotion will return you to whom your soul is one with.”

His words caused every part of my body to tense. A flash of an emerald sea came to me. Panic. I felt panic then. I was going after something in that water. Words were said over me—words that took over my mind as if they were my thoughts.

“Do you feel you have endured this pain, or that you have brushed against it?” Zander asked.

I moved my head to the side, not caring that my eyes had glassed over with a mix of anger and grief. “I have endured this from my first breath in this whirlwind of lives.” I knew that much to be true. I may have ignored it. I may have hidden that emotion in the fiercest beat I could ever create, but I always felt it.

“Are you ready for your final battle? Are you ready to conquer trepidation?”

Again. I knew those words. I felt that call. I felt that will spoken over me.

I thought my mind was breaking again, that the wall of memories was about to flood me and I would lose who I was, like I nearly did a few days ago. But this sensation was different. Instead of seeing vast lives, I saw one. One life. A life that had no meaning until just days before I left it.

My breath seized. I smelled ivory. I saw porcelain skin, eyes that gleamed blue with my touch, lavender hair. An angel that I pulled from an emerald sea, an angel that knew our path, a path I had strived to avoid.

Camlin. He did this. He forced this. Balance was at risk. One day. I was to be back before dinner. Oh my God! I was supposed to come and save Charlie, save Cashton. I was supposed to save us all. Change. Five crested souls.

I didn’t care about that fight, not right this second. I cared about that sensation. That basking energy of oneness. I cared about keeping my Skylynn safe. My angel.

I stared at Zander. “How do you know of this? How did you know exactly what was said to me then? Are you from The Selected? Did they send you for me?”

His eyes gleamed a smile. “I listened.”

Preston stepped out of the circle he was in. Zander stood.

“Where are you going?” I all but yelled as I went to follow him. A thousand questions were racing through my mind. Was I supposed to die today? If I had, would I be on that emerald shore? From that point, could I find her? I had to know. I had to.