Girl of Myth and Legend (2 page)

Routine: that’s how I live. It wasn’t always, but it’s how I forget.

There’s something lingering in the back of my mind though, a feeling of
waiting
. I always knew that something was coming for me, even though it never made sense. Like a string tied around me, I’m pulled towards more than mundaneness, more than routine, more than my world—more more
more
. I just didn’t think it would come so soon.

Intense heat. Heat so raw and real and raging, blazing in the centre of my chest. I shake my head as if to brush the pain away—the heat does not let go. I take deep breaths as it worsens. God, the pain. The
pain
. What is this—indigestion? A heart attack? I’m seventeen: I can’t be having a heart attack. I’m guilty of the sin of gluttony, but I’m not heart-attack-worthy. But the
pain
. What else can it be?

I look around for someone, anyone, and find the mist has thickened. Was it always this thick? It doesn’t matter: even if I wasn’t concealed by haze, there’s no one around for miles—one of the perks of living in the middle of nowhere, a perk I’ve enjoyed until now.

I fall to my knees that sink into the snow. Damn.
Damn
. Where’s my phone? Oh, right, of course, I never bring it with me. Being borderline-antisocial is the other perk of my life; it means no ‘is he into me?’ calls. It also means no emergency calls for an ambulance.

I rub my chest, tear at it. I’d spill my own blood just to rid myself of the burning burning
burning
. It consumes me, spirals me into a temporary state of insanity. I can’t cry out or groan or yell or speak any comprehensible words.

Panic sets in. No no
no
. I know I’m lost now. Panic will weaken my grip on control, but it’s too late. Am I going to die? Oh dear God, I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die from something and I don’t even know what is. Then I’ll be frozen over by the relentless snow and they, whoever
they
will be, might not find my body for weeks. I spare a thought for my dad. There are a lot of painful events that haven’t been resolved between us yet, but he’s always been there for me, never faltering. I don’t want him to have to hear from the police that his only daughter is now just a body in an ice cube.

The burning reaches its peak.
No, no, I’m not ready to go yet. Abi!

I look at my gloved hands buried in the snow, wanting to focus on something as my mind goes hazy. My eyes widen, a gasp escapes me, and I rip off my gloves. My hands are… glowing. I shake my head. Surely the pain is making me lose my mind. Losing my mind is better than being a fireball, which right now is what I’m turning into.

‘Stop doing that,’ I say, stupidly. The glow increases as if in protest, then it stops. For a moment, just a moment, I feel it building up inside of me. Then it grows grows grows. That’s all I know.

‘Leonie?’ Dad. ‘It’s OK. Everything’s OK. Get up. Come on.’ I open my eyes. Why does he sound so calm? Doesn’t he think it a bit, I don’t know,
odd
that I’m laid out on the plain in a puddle, the snow melted around me? But I soon forget his strange calmness:
the pain is gone
. I smell something foul, then feel a wet lick, and Pegasus’s big head is blocking the sun, his beady eyes looking down at me.

I’m not a crier, not because I think it’s weak or stupid, but because I don’t cry easily. I’m bawling now, though, snivelling and stuttering and wiping away the tears. I’m not an affectionate person either, but I’m clinging onto Dad, his soft hushes a comfort. I manage to say, ‘What happened?’

He smiles at me.
Smiles
. Of all the things to do! ‘I’ll take you home and explain.’

I’m too dazed to insist on answers right now. He helps me stand and, though I can walk, my world is spinning, so he supports me as we head towards the cottage. He takes me upstairs to my room, and I sit on my bed.

‘How does a marshmallow hot chocolate sound?’ he asks. ‘That’s your favourite, right? I’ll go and make you one. Oh, and run yourself a hot bath so you don’t catch a chill.’

I wait for him to go, fighting to keep my eyes open. I think about what happened, and I don’t feel ashamed that I cried, just ashamed that Dad has seen it. Dad, who found me so quickly, who is calm and completely unsurprised, who actually is making me a hot
chocolate
.

I jump from the bed, preparing a list of questions in my head, when I catch my reflection in the mirror. I’m suddenly aware of my beating heart, and almost slam myself against the mirror, peering into it, blinking and then pulling up my eyelids.

Oh. My. God.

I turn from the mirror and run down the stairs to where Dad is making a drink.

‘I-I need to get to the hospital! Look! Look at my eyes! Look at them!’

He does. ‘I know. It’s all right. Calm down. That’s sup-posed to happen.’

‘Wh-what? They’re… they’re… my goddamn irises are… are
red
! Like blood. Like
blood
. Oh God. It is blood, isn’t it? They’re bleeding, aren’t they? Oh hell; I’m going to turn into some religious phenomenon or something!’

He smiles. Again. Seriously, what’s his deal? ‘It’s not blood and they’re not bleeding and nothing is wrong with you. Like I said, that’s supposed to happen.’

I shake my head, already exasperated. ‘Unless I missed something when I was learning about puberty, eyes bleeding or changing colour or whatever the hell is happening to them is
not supposed to happen
!’

‘Calm down. Believe me, I know this is a shock, but you’re not ill, far from it.’

‘What?’ I begin. ‘If you didn’t notice, I kind of, like,
detonated
out there. I’m pretty sure that’s not normal. In fact, I’m pretty sure that makes me a candidate for a secret government medical experiment. Whatever the hell just happened to me, I’m going to the hospital before I go nuclear.’

‘You’re not ill—’

‘Then what the hell am I?’ I shout.

He holds my gaze in a disconcerting way. ‘You’re different, Leonie. You are Chosen.’

And he explains everything.

_________________

‘OK. How to start? All right. I’m going to be very blunt, so here it goes,’ he says. ‘I can see the future.’

‘Um. Yeah. Sure you can, Dad,’ I say.

‘All right, I anticipated that—’

‘Of
course
you did, you can see the future.’

‘Just let me elaborate—’

‘Go for it. You’re off to a good start so far.’

He smiles, then frowns as he leans forward. ‘Leonie… Leonie, please listen. What I’m going to tell you is, well, it’s against all human logic. You might be confused at first—’

‘Already am.’

‘—but I’ll explain it to you. Don’t be worried or frightened by this change, though I wouldn’t blame you if you were. Just remember that I’m right here and you’re—’

‘Wondering if you’re ever going to get to the point. Dad, that bluntness you used earlier? Yeah, use it again.’

He stares at me, like,
really
stares at me. It’s as if he’s trying to determine whether or not I can handle what he’s about to say. I give him an impatient look and he finally speaks.

‘You and I are not like normal humans. We’re known as the
Chosen
and possess, how should I say it? We possess abilities that would be thought impossible. Think of, I don’t know, think of shape-shifters, illusionists, seers—like me.’

It takes a moment for me to reply. ‘…Um, come again?’

‘I know, I know, but just stay with me because this, well, this is the hardest part to understand.’

‘The hardest part, huh?’

‘These abilities that we have, whatever they may be, come from an ancient magic so old we don’t even know when it came to be, or if it always has been.’

‘…O …K. This all sounds
completely
legitimate and not invented at all.’

He struggles to continue, opening his mouth and closing it again. ‘Look, this… this isn’t easy to explain to you. All these years and you’d think I’d have some notion of how to approach this. I’ve thought about how to tell you and I knew this day was coming, but—’

‘Wait. Hold it. You knew my human glow-stick show was going to happen
today
?’

He rubs the back of his neck. ‘Well, not today. I knew it was going to happen sometime soon, though. I can’t see everything in the future, and when I have a vision it’s not exactly time specific. As for the “glow-stick show,” that was your awakening as a Chosen. What happened to you was a burst of dormant magic becoming conscious.’

‘And you didn’t think, “Oh, hey, maybe I should tell Leonie she’s going to become a fireball sometime soon?” I mean, that would’ve been slightly considerate of you seeing as I thought I was, y’know,
dying
.’

‘I’m so sorry. You have to understand that there’re some things I can’t tell you about the future. Sometimes, bad things happen when you know what lies ahead.’

‘So in this fantastical imagination of yours, ye mighty oracle—which I’m certainly impressed with, by the way—where exactly are all these, um,
magical
Chosen? Or are we a race of just a few? Let me guess: there’s not many of us. Just you and me, right?’

‘Actually, we are many. Considerably less than humanity, but we are many.’

‘Then why don’t I see people flying around or unnecessarily throwing cars about with their minds for the hell of it? That’s what I’d do.’

‘Because the Chosen live in Duwyn, a different realm.’

‘Wow. Another realm, huh? Your zealous delusions continue to impress me. Is this where we fly off to Olympus or Valhalla or Heaven or something?’

‘Can you please stop being sarcastic for a moment and let me continue?’

‘No, don’t think I can, but you can continue.’

His lips thin in irritation before he continues. ‘Within Duwyn is a place called the Imperium, and it serves as the governing hierarchy of Duwyn.’

‘What, like the Houses of Parliament?’

‘In a sense, although things are a lot
stricter
in Duwyn. The Imperium is also where the majority of Chosen live. There are four walls separating each district, bigger than you can even imagine, and Chosen live within them. They span miles, so it’s not as confined as it sounds. There’re also cities outside of the Imperium and across Duwyn, though the laws of the Imperium still apply to them. Some Chosen even have permission to live in the human realm, although there’s fewer than a hundred, probably.’

‘Human realm?’

‘It’s what the Chosen call
this
realm, the one we’re in now.’

‘Seriously? Loving the Realminess. Though, they could’ve come up with something way cooler, like the “Insania Realm” or the “Psychotica Realm”.’

‘
Anyway
. It’s not exactly uncommon for there to be oblivious Chosen living in the human realm, children whose magic hasn’t manifested yet—like you—and a select few who’ve been given permission to live there by the Imperium—as I have.’

I nod. ‘I see. So, let me just, y’know, process all of this. Hmm. OK. After a prolonged reflection on this little tête-à-tête, I’ve come to the irrefutable diagnosis that, Dad… you’re crazy. Yeah, that fits. And I’m being
polite
when I say crazy, ’cause that word is somewhat holding back from the true level of craziness you’re displaying right now.’

He sighs. ‘I get it. It’s hard to accept.’

‘It
is
hard to accept your dad is displaying diehard symptoms of schizophrenia.’

Undiminished, he says, ‘Maybe if I
show
you?’

‘Show me?’

‘The future. I can’t usually see someone’s future when making skin contact with them, but I’m kind of hardwired into yours, so I might be able to see your future on demand.’

‘“Your future on demand!” You should suggest that line to Virgin Media; you’d make a fortune. And just for curiosity’s sake, why exactly are you “hardwired” with my future?’

‘I make it my job to know what lies ahead of you.’

I lean away from him. ‘I’m not weirded out at all.’

‘Don’t take it the wrong way. I only do it because I want to keep you safe. You
are
my daughter. I love—’

I put my hands up as if shielding myself from his affection. ‘Oh
God
, Dad, no, just no, stop right there. Seriously.’

‘OK, OK. So, want to see a glimpse of your future?’ he says, as if he were asking if I take sugar with my coffee.

‘Sure. Why not? Weird days should only get weirder, right?’

‘Prepare yourself. Visions can sometimes give you nose-bleeds. And you might vomit. You can get headaches, too.’

‘I’ve already got a headache.’

‘Come on, Leonie, if I show you a glimpse of the future and you’ve got so much doubt in what I’m saying, then when you do see it the shock will be much worse for you.’

‘I’ll take my imaginary chances.’

‘Fine, but
try
to believe in me.’ He comes over to the sofa and kneels on the floor, reaching for my face. I flinch. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘…Nothing.’ Everything. This whole thing is the definition of weird. Nonetheless, I lean towards him and his fingers press against my temple. It’s probable that doctors would tell me indulging Dad’s delusions is not advisable, but what the hell?

‘Give me a moment.’ His eyes are closed and his expression is tranquil. I feel embarrassed for him, although it’s amusing to see Dad immersing himself in such a strange fantasy. Looking at this seriously, however, I might actually have to contact a doctor—for both of us. ‘There,’ he says. ‘I have it.’

‘Oh! I see it!’ I say. ‘I’m sitting, yes, I’m definitely sitting down on a chair with, let’s see, with my dad in front of me, who’s suddenly developed symptoms of Nutcase Syndrome, and… oh wait, that’s the here and now.’ I’m about to push his hands away from me. ‘I’m starting to think it’s you who needs to go to the hos—’

Like a brush of paint swiping across my vision, the living room changes into fire and darkness and smoke and ruin. I leap up from my seat with a gasp.

‘Dad?’ He’s no longer with me.

Where the carpet was is now a famished ground, cracked and scorched, and there’s a tide of heat that makes my throat itch and long for water. The air is stifling. Debris of destroyed buildings surrounds me, smoke filling up my lungs. In the distance I see the remains of a gothic skyscraper. It glints silver and by the way it’s leaning it’s going to fall.