Lor Mandela - Destruction from Twins (6 page)

Although Lantalia knew this in her heart,
the verbal confirmation pierced her to her core. “But surely
there’s a way to stop this! What can be done?” She feared what the
answer might be—unfortunately, it was that exact answer that
followed.

“She must die, Vritesse.”

Lantalia dropped to her knees.

“And therefore, I am so sorry to say,
beloved Lantalia, you must die as well.”

Lantalia nodded mournfully. Tears streamed
unchecked down her cheeks.

Again, there was silence.

After several agonizing seconds, she
whispered almost inaudibly, “What about you? Our entire world is
doomed then, isn’t it?”

The spirit’s voice was slow to respond.
“There is a way,” it whispered. “Perhaps . . . yessss, if balance
is restored . . . yesss, that’s it!” Again, the spirit of Lor
Mandela seemed to gather strength. “You must go to your daughter,”
it advised. “You must go to Gracielle.”

“Gracielle?” she asked.
She couldn’t imagine what
she
had to do with any of this.

“Yes, Gracielle,” the voice of the soul
replied. “Go to her quickly. Once you are with her, call on me, and
I will show you both what can be done. There’s not much time,
Vritesse. Every moment is crucial. The process must be initiated
immediately.”

“Of course.” She bowed reverently.

Suddenly, another voice echoed through the
Caverns. “Vritesse! Vritesse, are you here?” It was General Kort,
and he sounded frantic.

There was a rapid
swoosh
as the spirit of
Lor Mandela retreated back down through the center of the
Caverns.

Lantalia quickly tried to pull herself
together. “Kort? I’m up here!” She stood, blotted her cheeks with
the back of her hand, and brushed the dust from her knees.

Kort appeared at the bottom of the path,
visibly agitated. Vritesse! Come quick! Hurry! It’s Anika!”

L
antalia didn’t wait for an explanation. The details didn’t
matter. Anything that was happening with Anika right now was
certainly not good. She rushed to Kort and the two of them took off
at a full run back toward the palace.

Once they reached the gate, Kort tried to
explain. “Ultara is with her . . . she just fell and started
thrashing around. We couldn’t get her to stop! And . . .” His eyes
grew wide as he added, “She’s totally black now!”

Lantalia touched Kort on the shoulder and
nodded. She hurried off ahead of him toward Anika’s room.

Ultara met her at the door. “Vritesse!” she
blurted, “she’s gone!”

“Wh . . . what do you mean? She’s dead?”
Lantalia tried to remain calm despite the panic twisting inside of
her.

“No, Vritesse,” Ultara explained, “she just
vanished. She was jerking and convulsing for almost an hour. A few
minutes ago she stopped. I thought she was coming out of it, but
then she whispered something about Gracielle and disappeared.”

“Oh no!” Lantalia gasped. “She knows!”

Without further explanation, Lantalia dashed
down the hall and out of the palace. She ran through the doors and
while in a full sprint shouted, “Mandela Palace!”

In a flash of blue, she vanished and
reappeared again outside a sprawling cluster of grandiose white
buildings, in the center of a large courtyard. She ran past rich
emerald hedges and up a large stone staircase. As she approached
the top, she waved her arm, and the set of tall etched glass doors
leading into the palace foyer bolted open.

“Gracielle!” she shouted
feverishly,
“Graaaciiieelle!”
She sped through the elegant foyer, which was
surrounded by stories-high stained glass and marble, and into one
of the many tan hallways leading from it. The usually bustling
palace was oddly silent.
“Gracielle!”
she shouted again as
she maneuvered through the corridor.

Suddenly, there was a
loud
bang
and a
lot of commotion at the end of the hallway. Without hesitation, she
flung her arm skyward, and one of the doors a few feet away blasted
open. A thick, pewter fog billowed ominously through the open
door.

The same strange voice that had possessed
Anika in her room before oozed out from the fog. “Please,
Gracielle. We need your help.” The voice was eerie and hypnotic.
“Just take our hand.”

“No!
Don’t!”
Lantalia burst into the
room. She was completely enveloped in a bright magenta
light.

Gracielle was sitting on the floor in a
cloud of black mist, held in a trance by Anika, who looked like
nothing more than a black, three-dimensional shadow. She was
standing above Gracielle—her scraggly black hair floating all
around her head—with her hand outstretched to her niece.

A dazed Gracielle reached forward.

“No, Graci . . . don’t!” Lantalia pleaded.
Gracielle didn’t respond.

Lantalia lowered her head and closed her
glowing eyes.

The shadowy Anika sneered and growled and
all at once, gasped sharply and bolted into the air. She flew
across the room and crashed into a large window—shattering it into
millions of pieces—before dropping like a rag doll to the
ground.

Gracielle instantly snapped out of the
trance. She jumped to her feet and dashed toward the door, not even
realizing that her mother was there until she caught a glimpse of
her out of the corner of her eye. “Mother!” she cried. “What’s
wrong with Anika?”

“There’s no time to explain!” Lantalia
yelled. She gestured toward the floor and a large section of it
completely vanished, revealing an endless dark pit. “Stoi Cantara!
Lor Mandela!” she commanded.

A hazy white light grew from deep within the
pit, but then faded.

Once more she shouted, “Stoi Cantara! Lor
Mandela!”

The light returned—a little stronger this
time—but then went out again.

“Stoi cantara! Lor
Mandela!
” She literally screamed it this
time.

A blinding flash blasted from the pit,
knocking Gracielle and Lantalia to the ground. The heavy fog that
had been consuming the room quickly dissipated, and the room became
eerily silent.

Gracielle slowly rose to her feet. “Mother,
are you all right?”

Lantalia was curled up in a motionless ball
on the floor.

“Vritesse?” Gracielle tried again,
cautiously moving toward her.

For a moment, Lantalia didn’t respond but
then, she suddenly pushed up onto all fours. Her back heaved up and
down, and her breathing became heavy and labored. She lifted her
face and stared wide-eyed at Gracielle.

Much to Gracielle’s surprise, something—some
sort of image—seemed to be materializing in her mother’s lavender
eyes. “It . . . it’s Lor Mandela,” she whispered as a revolving
likeness of the planet came into focus in each eye.

Lantalia nodded. “Yessss, Atoh.” Her voice
was clearly not her own. It flowed from her mouth like a deep
haunting song. “I am a portion of the spirit of Lor Mandela. The
rest of me resides in Anika and we are both dying.”

“What? But how . . . th . . . that would
mean . . . .” Gracielle muttered.

Lantalia moved closer and locked Gracielle
in her stare. Her lilac eyes glowed brightly with the now crystal
clear images of Lor Mandela. As Gracielle watched, pools of large
tears began to well up and flood out onto her lashes.

Just as they were about to spill from her
eyes, they swiftly reversed their course, rolling back like
waves—breaking violently against the glowing purple images. They
swirled and twisted, swelling into torrential rapids that pounded
buildings, swept away animals and people, and consumed everything
in their destructive path. After a few seconds—and much to
Gracielle’s relief—the waters seemed to calm and finally
recede.

She kept her gaze fixed on the images as
somewhere far behind Lantalia’s eyes, the sound of an eerie,
distant rumbling started to build. The rumbling grew louder, and
louder, and louder; the images of Lor Mandela shook and shuddered;
and then—in a deafening explosion—they burst into billions of tiny
pieces and disappeared in a haze of glowing purple dust.

Gracielle jumped. “No!” she cried. “Wh . . .
what does this . . . Lor Mandela can’t . . . I mean . . . what does
this mean?”

“Yes, Atoh, Lor Mandela is
doomed. But there is one way to save us,” the voice explained.
“This
will
be our
fate unless balance is restored.”

“What do you mean?”

“Balance has been destroyed—the balance that
has kept Lor Mandela alive.

Suddenly, an evil,
gravelly voice seethed from across the room. “
Nooooo,
” it screeched. The shadow of
Anika had regained consciousness. She sprang to her feet and in a
smoky, black blur, sped toward Gracielle.

Lantalia instantly threw herself between
them, catching Anika completely off guard. She slammed into
Lantalia and fell lifeless to the ground, but the blackness that
had possessed her was no longer there. It was now inside
Lantalia.

Lantalia’s appearance was shocking and
strange. Not quite half of her was a dark, inky shadow, while the
other part of her glowed fiery purple. Her voice was distorted and
strained. “Gracielle!” she shrieked, “Your daughter! She is the
Child of Balance!” Her voice changed to a shrill, hissing screech,
“Trysta mother . . . Borloc father . . . balance!” Lantalia
struggled to continue. “The Child of Balance must . . . be . . .
protected!”

All at once, the light around Lantalia
intensified. She let out an ear-splitting scream and the black
ripped out of her and flew directly back into Anika, who moaned and
began to stir.

The voice of Lor Mandela’s
spirit burst from Lantalia’s mouth again, speaking very loudly this
time.
“THIS IS THE ADVANTIERE OF THE
TRYSTA LANTALIA! AT THE APPOINTED TIME, THE MESSAGE WILL BE
UNDERSTOOD. ONLY THE CHILD OF BALANCE CAN SAVE OUR WORLD. SHE HAS
ALL POWER, BUT CANNOT CALL ON IT ALONE. THE RIDDLE MUST BE SOLVED
FOR, OR BY HER. TWINS MUST LIVE STILL TO PLAY THEIR PARTS, HER
FATHER’S HATRED DIE FOR LOVE TO GROW, AND BALANCE BE MAINTAINED FOR
THE EXACT TIME BALANCE WAS MISSING. ANY OF THESE ELEMENTS MISSED,
AND LOR MANDELA WILL CEASE.”

The volume of the spirit’s voice was so
great that it seemed to have a density to it. With every booming
syllable, the floor and ceiling and walls bumped wildly, causing
them to crumble under the heaviness of the spirit’s roaring
proclamation. Chunks of plaster plummeted from the ceiling and
gaping cracks ripped across the walls.

Oddly though, one wall in the room seemed
completely undisturbed. As the soul of Lor Mandela spoke, a shower
of red sparks sizzled across the wall, leaving behind the words of
Lantalia’s Advantiere:

Destruction from twins, and so it must
end.

They are the lock, yet they are not
friends.

The Child of Balance can only restore.

Her father the key and she is the door.

The riddle now told, the Advantiere
presents,

healing begins following future events.

ONE
comes swiftly in the morning

ONE
unknowing moves in haste

ONE
beloved though mighty fallen

ONE
is chosen to forget her place

E lahk E Ber Lor Mandela!

ONE
though strong must fall forbidden.

ONE
made low shall rise again.

ONE
must be as these words written

Then will
ONE
forever
reign.

E lahk A Ber Lor Mandela!

With the final syllable, the spirit of Lor
Mandela rocketed out of Lantalia’s body, and retreated into the
pit.

Lantalia fell limp to the floor.

Gracielle rushed to her side, but as she
did, Anika—who had again become the dark, evil shadow—glided back
toward her.

“I will have power,” she seethed. “There
will be no Child of Balance!”

Gracielle quickly scrambled backward and
raised her hand in the air. The floor creaked and a wide crack
zigzagged across it; a glowing, golden, needle-thin spike bolted
out of it and raced toward Anika.

It sliced a deep gash across Anika’s
forearm.

“Fool!
” she screeched, “Your powers are nothing! Do not attempt to
cross me!” She pressed her hand against the wound which was
bleeding an inky black. She slid one of her hands behind her and
grabbed for something and then flicked her wrist like she was
flinging an invisible object at Gracielle.

“Gracielle!
Move!
” A voice called
out from across the room followed by a flash of gold ricocheting
through the air. Gracielle fell to the ground and rolled just as a
sharp, black object disintegrated less than an inch over her head.
She looked up and saw Anika’s daughter, Ultara, still glowing gold
standing near the door.

Lantalia was back on her feet and shouted in
her own voice, “Ultara! Get Gracielle out of here! Now!” She knew
that Ultara would never disobey the vritesse.

Within a fraction of a second, Ultara was
next to Gracielle. Her black cloak flew upward, swirled around
them, and they disappeared.

The shadow of Anika didn’t seem discouraged
in the slightest by this little setback. She slinked her way over
piles of broken glass and concrete to the door and set off through
the palace in search of Gracielle.