portal prophecies 01 - keepers destiny

• The Portal Prophecies: A Keeper's Destiny
  
• Dedication And Acknowledgement Page
  
• Chapter One
  
• Chapter Two
  
• Chapter Three
  
• Chapter Four
  
• Chapter Five
  
• Chapter Six
  
• Chapter Seven
  
• Chapter Eight
  
• Chapter Nine
  
• Chapter Ten
  
• Chapter Eleven
  
• Chapter Twelve
  
• Chapter Thirteen
  
• Chapter Fourteen
  
• King Cornelius
  
• Chapter Sixteen
  
• Chapter Seventeen
  
• Chapter Eighteen
  
• Chapter Nineteen
  
• Chapter Twenty
  
• Chapter Twenty-One
  
• Chapter Twenty-Two
  
• Chapter Twenty-Three
  
• Chapter Twenty-Four
  
• Chapter Twenty-Five
  
• Chapter Twenty-Six
  
• Chapter Twenty-Seven
  
• Chapter Twenty-Eight
  
• Chapter Twenty-Nine
  

The Portal Prophecies: A Keeper's Destiny

By

C. A. King

Cover Art By

Ryan M. King

Dedication And Acknowledgement Page

This book is dedicated to my family for their

help and belief in me.

Ryan, Zachary, Caitlin, Elizabeth, Mark and Lesha

without your support and loving advice this would all still be a dream

and to the memory of James Huntington Turner who taught me

anything is possible if you try.

This book is a work of fiction. Any historical references, real places. real events, or real persons names and/or persona are used fictitiously. All other events, places, names and happenings are from the author's imagination and any similarities, whatsoever, with events both past and present, or persons living or dead, are purely coincidental.

Copyright © 2014 by C .A. King

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author and/or publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

Cover Art by Ryan M. King

First Printing: 2014

ISBN
978-0-9939131-0-5

Kings Toe Publishing
[email protected]
Burlington, Ontario. Canada

Table of Contents

Table of Contents

The Portal Prophecies: A Keeper's Destiny

Dedication And Acknowledgement Page

Copyright Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

King Cornelius

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter One

“We should tell her now! I can’t stand the way in which the child lives.”

“No not yet. She isn’t ready. When the time is right we will. For now, she must wake and live the day as she always does and we must be there to help and protect her as we promised.”

“But the prophecies, she will need time...”

“There are some things she must learn for herself. Too much too soon and she could be lost to us forever. Remember she is different from the others. Now pull yourself together and bid good morning.”

*****

“It’s time to get up sleepy head,”
a soft voice sang out gently in the dark. Willow opened her eyes and scanned the room slowly, instantly adjusting to the darkness. She never questioned how easy night vision was for her. It was a normal part of her daily routine.

Tilting her head from side to side, she looked over the room. There was a table, cupboards and a few storage chests. On top of the table a bucket overflowed with rain water. Fixing the leak in the roof was on a list of '
one day to do chores
' that she hadn't quite got to. All the furniture was made out of the same aged wood as the building and needed the same amount of repair, including the bed she was lying on. Martha the seamstress had made her one blanket and a pillow, both of which were tattered and torn from use. There were no lights or windows and only the one door. It was a place to sleep, definitely not a home. Scanning the room one more time she sighed. As always she was definitely alone.

“Come or you will be late and you know how the Council dislikes tardiness,”
a new voice, this one deeper, harsher, definitely a male, sounded loudly in her thoughts. She didn't bother to look around this time. There was no point, no one was there.

She had fantasized for as long as she could remember that these voices were those of her mother and father. But how could they be? She had been told that her parents had died long ago. At the time she had only been six cycles. Her limited memories from that age didn't include what had happened to them. Nobody in town talked about how, just that they were gone, if they talked about it at all.

Willow sighed. Of course the voices were right. She had work to do and if she wasn’t on time she would be in trouble again. The Council wanted things done a certain way, their way. As they had often said when she stepped out of line, “Our lives are like a puzzle. We all have to find the place where we fit in to make the bigger picture whole.”

Her duty to the common good was assigned to her. She grew fruits and vegetables. That was her place in the puzzle. She needed to accept it and to do the very best she could. But still she couldn't help but feel there was something more, something she was missing, something she was destined for.

Her feet slid to the floor. Grabbing a pile of clothes from a cupboard, Willow pulled them on. The female voice returned. '
Make sure you are completely covered. Remember what we discussed.'

How could she forget? They reminded her every day. On her back there was a beautiful portrait of two stunning midnight black cats with crystal blue eyes and their kittens. They warned her to never show anyone the pictures on her skin and never tell anyone about their conversations, or the Council would be less than lenient with her. They never told her why, but deep inside she knew it had something to do with the past, something to do with what happened to her parents. History had been ruled a taboo subject and no one, not even the voices, would give her any information.

Willow opened a wooden chest and picked up a small hand mirror to look at herself. She hated the mirror. To her, all it showed was her imperfections. Her eyes were a green and blue mix with speckles of red throughout. Everything else about her, she considered unremarkable. Her skin was a lightly tanned, bronze tone colour, even though most of it never saw the sun and the places that did had freckles. She was above average in height and her work kept her in a physically fit state, which she felt made her some what less feminine than other girls.

Her long, curly hair hung down around her shoulders. Today, it was blonde with a few blue and black strands. As with all girls, her hair colour would change on its own, as if it were matching her moods, abilities, or personality. She could have any number of combinations of hair colours in a day. In fact, last night she had gone to bed with pure white hair. This would continue until her sixteenth cycle, when her hair would choose the permanent colour it wanted to be. At one time, it was of common belief that the final colour of a girl’s hair was directly influenced by the strength of her abilities. The Council recently renounced that idea, declaring only Council members and their families had the most powerful gifts. That explained the many types of hair colours the women on the Council and in their families had.

Like most of the under-aged, she didn’t even know what her abilities were yet. When she was younger and out with her friends they would often sit and dream about different abilities and which ones they wanted. They had all been told the signs were there somewhere, subtle indications of the future and if they looked hard enough the answer was there. Once she sat in a corner and concentrated for a full evening trying to make something, anything happen. Falling asleep out of boredom was the only result.

It was important to have the right abilities. It meant the difference between acceptance or a long, hard life of work and at times ridicule. If you could do something dazzling or entertaining, you might even get to stay on the castle grounds in accommodations which were far more comfortable than anything the town had to offer. Of course, on the flip side of the equation, some abilities were considered useless.

Her mind wandered to Victoria who was only in her tenth cycle and showing signs that she could heal bruises and cuts. Her parents had tried to hide it, but rumours got out and the teasing began. One would think healing to be a good quality, but not in a world where there is no sickness or war. Oddly enough she couldn't remember the last time someone had died outside of what the Council had declared. At least Victoria still had more cycles in which to develop other abilities. Willow was near the end of her fifteenth cycle and time was passing fast.

She looked one last time in the mirror, let out a frustrated groan and tied her hair, which was already changing to a golden colour, away from her face. Pulling the hood from her shirt up over her head, she said out loud, “Just get through the day.” She allowed the last drops of the daily rainfall to hit an outstretched hand and roll between her fingers before disappearing.

The rain fell at the same time every day. It started two hours before sunrise and the last drops dribbled down an hour later. Always the perfect amount of rain for the trees, plants, animals, drinking water, water to wash with and other daily uses. In fact the weather in general was always perfect, not too hot, not too cold, not too dry, not too wet and always the same.

Taking her first step outside she was greeted by a warm breeze. Closing her eyes she deeply inhaled the fresh air, enjoying every vibrant scent it carried including the forest, the plants, the gardens from the castle grounds and a touch of the smell of rain fading ever so slightly away. This is what made living worthwhile. She loved the fullness of the forest, with trees reaching high into the skylines, often climbing to the highest limbs of the tallest trees just to peek over the stone walls at the castle gardens with its beautiful flowers in all colours, sizes and shapes. Then there was the great hill overlooking everything. It was lush green covered with soft grass and four leaf clovers that could cushion a bare foot’s every step, like walking on a cloud. Sadly, no one was allowed to the top. The Council had forbidden it, but it was beautiful to look at. In some strange way it gave her world an unusual sense of calmness.

Walking around to the back of the small building she lived in, there was a large plot of land filled with vegetable plants and fruit trees in abundance. In a daily ritual, she gestured with her hands from side to side and thanked all the plants, trees and bushes for growing the finest produce. Her friends had expressed how unusual they thought she looked talking to vegetation, but in Willow’s mind that vegetation provided enough food daily for everyone and for that it deserved a thank you. She was pretty sure almost everyone already thought she was crazy anyways. Her mind wandered back to the voices and how quiet they were at the moment. Imagine what people would think if she told them about that. She let out a little chuckle.