by Sean Eva | Feb 6, 2025 | Short Stories
“I haven’t written in some time,” the man said. He overlooked a pond dotted with lily pads. Between his fingers rested a cigarette, its smoke curling before his face. Dark blotches hung beneath his eyes.
He turned to another man seated on a porch chair. This man clutched a mug of coffee, his hair disheveled and a dark red apron tied loosely around his waist. With one final yawn, he stood and joined his friend at the fence.
“It’s a beautiful morning,” the aproned man remarked. “The geese should be flying in soon to get some bread from the maid.” He took a sip from his cup, then frowned. “Coffee’s almost cold. I should make another cup. Do you want one?”
The man with the cigarette shook his head. He took one last drag before wanting to flick the stub toward an ashtray on the table. A cough escaped him as he decided against it and walked over, dropping the cigarette into the jade stone tray.
“You don’t seem to care about my writer’s block,” he muttered, just as the faint sound of geese approached from the south.
“My dear Benjamin,” the other man replied, “you’re here in my home to write. I’m not the published—and failed—author. You are. Now, about that coffee?” He grinned at the husk of a man before him.
Benjamin craved another hit of nicotine before sitting down to watch the sunrise. “Fuck you, Clint,” he whispered.
Clint adjusted his apron, then burst into laughter. He untied the apron, revealing a speedo underneath, and tossed it onto the chair. “Fuck me, you say? I suppose there’s some truth in your hostility, though it’s not a notion I’m particularly interested in. I had Patricia over last night—did I tell you?” He glanced back, curious about Benjamin’s reaction.
Benjamin stared at him. “I don’t know what to write, Clint. I wrote a book, published it, and no one wanted to read it… except an eccentric billionaire who seems to enjoy tormenting me for not having a girlfriend.” He rose from the chair and joined Clint at the fence. “Why did you invite me here, to your mansion, with this all-expenses-paid vacation… to write?”
Benjamin’s eyes reflected the red twilight of the morning and the geese gliding over the water.
“It’s quite simple, Benjamin,” Clint replied. “I’m bored. Your book gave me some enjoyment. I thought I’d be lucky enough to read your next one before the rest of the world. I’m giving you the royal treatment, after all. So, what’s causing this writer’s block?” He tossed the remnants of his coffee into the pond, set the empty mug on the table, and dove into the water.
“The loud giggles at night aren’t helping,” Benjamin said dryly.
Clint swam after the geese. The billionaire would want an answer when he climbed out. Benjamin scratched at a splinter on the fence—the only one on the entire deck. He was certain that if he pointed it out, Clint would have the deck replaced within the hour and painted by afternoon with some lavish imported paint. By the next morning, Benjamin would be back, searching for another splinter to pick at.
The geese cried out as Clint swam toward them. Benjamin tried to make sense of his despair. When he struggled to make sense of life, he had no problem escaping into the worlds he conjured. Yet here, he had no words. He tugged at the splinter and winced as it broke his skin.
“Shit,” he muttered, pulling his finger away and sucking at the wound. He could feel the splinter with his tongue. He brought it into the faint orange light and examined it. Carefully, he pinched it between his fingernails—which needed trimming—and pulled it free. Blood welled up and dripped onto the forest-green paint of the deck. He went back to sucking his finger.
“You okay there, Ben?” Clint asked as he climbed onto the deck, dripping wet. He glanced at Benjamin sucking his finger, then down at the blood on the floor. “A splinter? That’s bad luck. I’ll have the groundsman fix the deck. Any specific colour you’d like it to be?”
“Blood red,” Benjamin whispered under breath, removing his finger and shaking it in the air.
Clint nodded and grabbed his apron from the chair. “Your answer, Ben? Why aren’t you writing?” He sat back down and waited.
“I think it’s a matter of who’s listening,” Benjamin began.
“Or reading,” Clint interrupted.
“Yes. Would my writing mean anything to the world? If I write for myself, I might as well be a madman. If I write for an audience, I’m caged into serving them a story they might like. I think… my words stopped coming once I realised I’m no longer writing for myself.” The author sat down and stared at the billionaire across from him.
Clint paused, his empty mug in hand, and studied Benjamin. “I never thought—that is to say—” He glanced into the mug and set it down. “Do you want some coffee, Benjamin?”
The author nodded as Clint stood and headed back toward the mansion. “Blood red, you say?” he called over his shoulder before disappearing inside.
Benjamin sat in the chair, observing the sunrise. He could describe it in a million beautiful ways—an apricot born on the horizon, paint spilled across the sky—but he knew those words were for himself. He captured the moment, the kind that might sell a thousand copies, and tucked it into a poem within his mind, hoping that in the afterlife, he could revisit this page. He wondered if he would start writing today. The geese cried out and flew off again. His finger throbbed, and he reached for another cigarette. Tomorrow was another day.
by Sean Eva | Jan 10, 2025 | Gedigte
Ek kan vandag glimlag
van oggend tot nag
Ek onthou hoe kaassous
uit ons leë hamburgerborde lek.
Hoe ons albei heig met heuwels.
Jou “briljante”idee.
Ek kon glimlag vir die kaartjie
wat jy vir myy na Valentynsdag gegee het.
Ek kon glimlag want jy
een van keyboord knoppe
en stoepsit denke
Jy is die rede
want jy bestaan.
by Sean Eva | Nov 18, 2024 | Seth
(Please note that this is the second chapter of a book that is currently being edited and is in the final editing stages. Changes can still be made before the final release.)
Warning: Genre is Dark Fantasy- Horror/Thriller, swear words can be present. Take this as your warning.
Chapter Three
The square training room had wooden weapons racked on the sides. The floor was soft sand. It was strange to walk in because the sand automatically smoothed itself any footprints. Today was a one-on-two match. I chose one side of the room while Genevieve and Sword stood on the other.
“I’m so glad we are done with the whole learning, reading, and lecturing thing.” Sword tested the weight of the wooden sword in his one hand.
Genevieve held two shorter swords that could easily be passed off as daggers.
“Today we are starting with combat training. There is a real possibility that you might teach me a thing or two.”
“So, you’re going to use your powers?” Genevieve studied the sand that shifted into place, erasing her tracks. “Or are you going to let this Library do everything for you?”
Sword grinned and readied his weapon before him. “Except that one time when I walked in while he was bathing and the door slammed shut so quickly, I’m pretty sure that wasn’t the Library.”
They shared a laugh.
I lifted an eyebrow as I removed a large wooden staff from it. “There are many fighting styles. Demon-inspired are excellent for killing humans but always end up sup-bar against a demon. Angel-inspired is aimed at killing demons, but they allow you enough time to stay your weapon if you face a human. Cloak-inspired is deadly in killing demons, humans, or witches. The witch’s style can be grouped with those originating from the gods. These allow the fighter to draw and manipulate their environment through Alhalma.”
I gripped and released the staff before leveling my gaze on the two of them. “Over the past months you revealed your obscure version of fighting styles. You now have all the knowledge you need to understand how I operate.”
“The traveler’s style, Ikulme.” Sword took a few steps closer and Genevieve did the same. “I read about it. It’s by far the most unpredictable style but often the least efficient.”
I encouraged him to continue.
“Because the traveler has so many endless possibilities, the three who existed before you each favored a limited number of attacks. Because they often won with those, they were often beaten by skilled warriors.”
The grin on my face widened as I planted the staff in the sand before me. “Good, now that you know that. You should have no problem defeating a traveler like myself. I am, after all, according to the books that you studied, without imagination when it comes to fighting.”
Genevieve peered over at Sword and slowly shook her head. “No, you grew up in harsher circumstances. The first traveler was revered and treated like royalty. The second was trained with angels and kept with them. Hawk’s an example. There isn’t much human interaction skills you learn from that. The third kept to herself. They were not without imagination but lacked the training to survive. Seth, however, had to survive throughout his life.”
Sword gave a mock attack which I dodged. “That gets me all excited as I have fought…an older you.”
He sprung to attack, moving as fast as the sand would allow him. He only changed his weight and footing when he was close enough to strike a blow. The energy inside of me slowed time, enough for me to move back and drive my wooden stick toward his chin. I change my top grip and forced the staff down from his chin to his chest. With a push forward and stepping past him, I used my hip to throw him off balance. The man fell backward over my knee with my staff on his chest.
“If I call upon fire now, your brains would be fried,” I mocked them as Sword propped himself up with his arms.
Genevieve dipped to her knees, her blades a flurry of attacks that were aimed at my vital spots. She caught me off guard. I slowed time again, giving me a chance to calculate and catch an opening. I had to be careful not to make my body move faster than expected as I rolled over my staff. My grip was wrong, and the staff slipped from my grasp. Genevieve used Sword’s chest to launch herself at me. The man got to his knees after acting as a spring board for the woman. With my mind working faster than theirs, I watched her sail toward me. A mistake on her part when I used Ikulme to push her. She slid over the sand to the other side. I summoned the staff to my hand and stood up with it pointed at her across the room. In the corner stood the being that haunted me whenever I used the power of Alhalma. I swallowed some spit and stepped back.
“That’s enough,” I commanded and watched the figure in the corner vanish.
“What is your secret?” Sword picked up his blade.
“What do you mean?” I played dumb, wanting to see if they could figure it out. “You studied how the unseen powers work, how demons, angels, and witches use Alhalma to shape the physical to their will. How do you think I did it?”
“You only used your powers once when you flung me across the room.” Genevieve strolled toward me while fixing her hair.
I glanced at the corner, making sure the being was gone. Sword frowned and followed my gaze. I would have to be more careful.
“The most dangerous attack is the one you don’t foresee,” Genevieve said. “I don’t see how you beat us.”
“I can use the Alhalma to my advantage. When I first learned I was a traveler, two demons attacked me. They wanted to…take my youth. When they chased me, I created a bubble that suspended them in the air. Time froze everything in that bubble. With a snap of my fingers, everything around me erupted in flames. I slipped into Alhalma. But I used too much power for my physical body and collapsed after that. When I came to, the forest was burned. The demons were ash.”
“Time, shit, that’s obvious.” Genevieve’s brow furrow when she stole a glance at Sword. “Imagine us training with blades but moving at a snail’s pace.”
Sword spat out the sand that had gathered in his mouth and cursed. I held my laughter when the sand spat his spit into his face. He grumbled and wiped his face.
“The Library doesn’t like spit on the ground.” After a good laugh, I faced them. “Think of the nature of the thing you’re fighting. Humans are strong with their physicality. That’s all they can rely on. Demons thrive on the grotesque and evil. Expect that, horror and shock. Angels, even though they’re on our side, they fight with duty and honor. Witches want power, so assume flashy attacks. Travelers, well, we weave through time in our dreams. We should have mastered that and space in our fighting. Big words aside, the nature of things reveal their weakness.”
“That’s how you beat me, you bastard.” Sword clenched the hilt of his wooden blade. “We learned how to fight, spar, and find weaknesses. The nature of something also gives it strength. We call it the double-bladed truth.”
I strode to the door. “Now, if you will excuse me, it’s time for Timothy’s reading lesson.”
I found the boy sitting with the book on his lap at a fire in the hall. He was reading on his own. A sad tightness grew in my chest as I watched the lonely child. The last few months were tough on him. He didn’t have friends to play with except for Hawk that would change into the form of a child so that Timothy didn’t feel too alone. This was at my request, but the angel had limited understanding of how human boys worked. I left it to Hawk to teach Timothy how to use a blade. The boy’s martial form was near excellent. It was the only time he had that resembled play. When I approached, I focused on his muttering words as he attempted the words on the page.
“Seth?” He closed the book and checked the large doors. “Can we visit the statues again?” He stood to grab my hand that I held out to him and tugged me to the doors.
“What did you learn about the unseen today?” I asked along the way.
“It has four different states and is called the Alhalma.”
“Five,” I said.
He peered at me with a furrowed brow. “No, there’s the light, the dark, the pure, and the evil.”
“There is also the neutral.” I studied the many painted faces hanging on the walls. I’d focused on his training in the unseen as quickly as I could. When we visit the city in a few months, I intend to return him to his mother. It is good for a child to train for a war he might have to face when he is older.
Training in a Library would only do so much. Without his mother, he wouldn’t learn the balance between joy and despair, love and hate and the reason for his fight.
The doors parted at my touch and revealed the hall with statues. The boy ran to Adam’s statue first. I joined him.
“To Sandra and Timmy, I love you.” Without glancing at the plaque beneath the statue, he read out of memory. He reached for my hand again. When I took it, he scuffled himself closer to me. His body warmed my right leg. No, it wasn’t good for a boy to grow up in the Library alone. When I take him home, he should be able to defend himself against any attacks from the Alhalma, and that was all I needed of him. If I closed the gateway, he wouldn’t need to fight.
“Will you be a statue too one day?” he asked me as he ushered me to the other statues. He would inspect each one with great interest.
“Maybe, I don’t know.”
“Why don’t you wear your crimson cloak?” Another question Genevieve and Sword had asked.
“Well, it’s like this. Timothy. In my last battle, I lost a girl whom I adored. She died in front of me, and I’m still bitter about it. After that, I came here, and I challenged Ulhezaoi to explain to me why she had to die.”
His eyes widened. “Did It answer?”
I rolled my eyes up to the ceiling then to him. “Yes. When I was younger, Ulhezaoi would often appear to me as an animal with three heads. It told me that this was my tale and that questions like those are the reason we have to suffer, to learn.”
“That’s not a proper answer,” Timothy groaned.
I gave his shoulder a squeeze. “I guess not. Anyway, It told me that was the last time It would appear to me. It was time I lived this life along with other humans.”
“Were you not living with them?” the boy asked.
I shook my head. “I lived among them, but I would run to the forest whenever I could. I’d search for the Maker there believing that people were a waste of time.”
Timothy tried to hide a sniff before his eyes glazed over as he stared at the distant wall. He often wore this expression after hearing the tales of the heroes.
A frown deepened the shadows on his face. “Isn’t that what you did in the years you were locked in here with an angel?”
I took a moment to process the question. He was right, but I wouldn’t have put it in those words yet. There was a moment of silence before I glanced at him then went down on one knee. I admired his darkened skin and blond hair. He had Sandra’s dark blue eyes. I ruffled his hair before trying a smile.
“Keep that kind of thinking and you will be wiser than most men.” I paused for a while. “Travelers too, but with only four of us, there’s not much competition.”
His eyes got teary, and he jumped in to my arms, his hands worming their way into a hug. I was taken aback before returning the hug and lightly pressing my lips to his hair. I hated caring this much. It summoned memories of Lucy, who died much younger than him. The tears welled in my chest. I wanted to push the boy away, but his hug tightened. I was frozen. I remembered her last smile when she gave me a little weed crown to wear, her freckled face and curly red hair, the warmth of her eyes.
“Timothy.”
I recalled her little body against mine as she wormed in next to me at night when she was alone or the joy in the way she ran with a skip in her step.
“Timothy.”
The song she used to sing carried on stray breezes while I made food for us. Her squeals that had cut through the air when I’d swallowed the fish’s eyes while gutting them. What haunted me was her lifeless body in half, a clean cut from a demon, from the top down. The two halves lay open, spilling her insides. The lively girl was dead. I tried knitting her together with Ikulme. So much blood coated the ground, my clothes, my hands when I held her, as if she would magically become whole. I couldn’t line up the face quite right, but that hadn’t mattered.
“Seth?”
My head hurt when my cheeks twinged with my jaw unlocked. The images continued, Cindy stood a bit off with her dark Vuloptian skin and her copper-red hair. Her eyes were filled with sorrow, as if she wanted to say sorry. I gave up at that moment. I bowed, removing my cloaking as Ikulme inside of me went wild, trying to knit or heal Lucy. I threw the cloak over her and allowed myself to hold her while sobbing into the fabric. Tears and blood mixed when I tried to wipe the wetness off my face. A glow yellowed the bright red of her blood. When I turned to see where the glow came from, Adam, in pure golden light, was in the air fighting against a giant of a demon wielding a black bow. Adam won.
“Seth?”
I whipped my head up. Timothy stood before me. My knees were on the cold floor, and tears streamed down my face. I had to pull myself together and force my aching legs to move.
“Your mother told me we won. She was crying too. She asked me to stay and help care for you. I couldn’t.” My lower lip stung when I bit into it. The child’s face was frozen with thin lips and wide eyes.
I took a breath and flicked the tears aside, checking for blood mixed into them.
I tried a smile again and ruffled his hair. “Sorry, kiddo, I haven’t been hugged in quite some time.”
His face relaxed. He peered past me at the Library. “I can see why.” Then, as if in an afterthought, he asked, “Are you okay?”
I thought about the being that appeared and challenged me whenever I used my Ikulme. “Yeah, you fighter. I’m fine. Adults shouldn’t lose their cool like that in front of kids. It can be quite scary, am I right?”
He took my hand. “Now, I know what you are feeling.”
He left me in the hall with the statues. Heroes who had fought and died by the golden glow, the Azortilmu. Heroes who’d abandoned us, the living, with the pain and suffering in the aftermath of the battles. Who was more blessed, those who’d survived, or those who’d died?
When I returned to the Library, Timothy watched me while the books flew around the room.
by Sean Eva | Nov 11, 2024 | Gedigte
Ek loop die straat van Niemandsland.
Die ligte flikker met elke tree –
En in my agterkop onthou ek jou gevoel
voel ek jou soene in herinneringe.
In Niemandsland staan ek alleen, vervreemd
Is dit alles dan verby? Waar kruip jy weg? Ek soek jou woorde
Maar ek hoor dit in die silhoeët van die verlede.
Ek tuur deur die uurglas,
ek hoor ons lag
Maar niks is meer soos wat dit was
Want ek is in Niemandsland.
Jy waai vir my vanaf Gistersland.
Ek sit op die bankie van ‘n park
vlerk geluide van duiwe-
Maar hulle sagte vere versteek jou glimlag
Al die pad af terug na Gistersland.
Daar is nêrens anders as vorentoe –
want ek is vas gevang in Niemandsland.
Jy waai vir my van Gistersland.
Ek hinker vir net nog een soen.
Ek tuur deur die uurglas
ek sien ons skaam trane
Maar niks is meer soos wat dit was
Ek is in niemandsland
Jy waai al die pad van gistersland.
by Sean Eva | Nov 11, 2024 | Seth
(Please note that this is the second chapter of a book that is currently being edited and is in the final editing stages. Changes can still be made before the final release.)
Warning: Genre is Dark Fantasy- Horror/Thriller, swear words can be present. Take this as your warning.
Chapter Two
I sat the next morning, my gaze fixed on Sandra. I’d been willing to take Timothy with me, but the night had plagued me with nightmares with the two children who were in my care and their terrible ordeals. They had no parents to return to who’d explain what had happened. Sandra was here as a mother to Timothy. I took another sip from my cup as I thought about it. With tears in her eyes, she blinked a few times more and braved to meet my stare.
“I don’t understand. I’m a Cloak now. Where did he get the idea I’d given permission? When it concerns my son, there’s no way I’d open the door to allow him into my life. We were both slaves to that beast.”
I placed the cup on the table. The room had been repainted. New curtains hung at the windows and choice pieces of furniture added to the lived-in feel. I tensed in anticipation of a demon coming around the corner of the door. “Magic, Sandra, you were a witch, and you used Piper’s power. I’ve read about what is called Ekesre. Your spells and so forth might have become second nature. Did you destroy your medium?” I leaned forward, trying not to sound accusatory. But I was accusing her of something she swore she’d left behind the day she took on the cloak.
“I… I haven’t used spells at all. The medium? You mean the glass feather.” She fell silent. Her gaze darted left and right. “I have no idea where it is.”
I sighed. Hawk had to teach me how to read properly. I learned about travelers, witches, demons, and angels. There were loads of books about the Maker too, but all of them were written by men. I’d had firsthand encounters as a child.
“When a witch is initiated, they are given a medium. A true witch is given a spell book of sorts, a book of shadows, one that is written by a bloodline. You did not get a spell book. You got a glass feather—a medium as fragile as the power source you used. Piper’s mark on your soul might be lost, but if your intent flows to that glass medium, you are allowing him back into your life.”
She thought for a while and stood up from her chair to walk over to the window. From there, she stared at the unsuspected Timothy who was swinging a twig around.
“I wish Cindy had listened to you on that day, you know that, right?”
My smile of comfort fell. I agreed with her. “I stopped Piper last night by taking an authoritative stance in Alhalma,” I paused, ignoring her words, “over Timothy’s life. Whether I like it or meant for it, I am now tethered to him. Anything that wants to get to him must go through me.”
“Thank goodness. So, he’ll be okay?”
I nodded, keeping the rest from her. Timothy wasn’t my problem, after all. I planned to stride away from here with Sword and Genevieve. We had to train. It wasn’t my responsibility to take care of a kid.
“There’s more, isn’t there?” Her hand went for her stomach. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “It’s the law of influence, isn’t it?”
If I left him last night, allowed Piper to consume him in Alhalma, Timothy would be dead. It still wouldn’t be my problem. I balled my hands into fists. There were people dying, and yet, I couldn’t stop myself. I couldn’t allow the boy to be killed. The image of Adam, his father, came to mind. My debt to him was repaid.
“I can sense Alhalma, Seth. I was a witch, after all. I can feel the severed connection toward my child,” she half screamed the last part.
I took a step to the door. “Yes, to truly save him, your connection had to be severed. The bond the two of you had was the price for saving him.” I stopped. “It’s devastating. You only have my word to go on. There is no proof. So, I propose this. I’m going to leave this house with two Cloaks who will train underneath me. Send Timothy with me. I will return in a year. Do what you have to, to confirm this. See another witch. Become a genuine witch. Whatever it may be. When I bring the boy home, I will give all authority to you. If I do it now, I fear Piper will take his life.”
She bit her right index finger while she stared out of the window. “This damned conflict, am I right?” Her eyes were violent when she spat at me, “It’s not like you have an outstanding track record with kids.” Her hands went to her mouth.
I stifled a grin, “You’re right.”
“I’m sorry, that wasn’t fair.”
I held up a hand, quietening her. “Sandra, we put something in motion that cannot be stopped. If my future self believes that I must close the gate in the Deadlands, then that is what I’ll do. It will most likely kill me, and in that, I would’ve paid for my sins for allowing Lucy to die.”
She marched out of the back door. I didn’t know if she went to call Timothy or keep him. I didn’t much care. I treaded, careful to not step on a creaking wooden board, out of the door and to the street, where Sword and Genevieve waited for me.
“Are we ready to go to the Library?” Ikulme moved inside me as beyond the two cloaks the orange twilight cleaved apart. Inside the tear was a large open space with blue glowing crystals that illuminated rows of statues. Beyond the tear, a dark figure of myself strolled closer. “Hurry now.”
Without hesitation, Sword and Genevieve brisked through. I followed. I was about to close the portal when a gentle hand grabbed mine. A sobbing Sandra waved Timothy off. The portal closed. The joyfulness of giggling children was replaced with silent and somber granite. The swaying trees became cold lifeless statues holding up the roof of the large hall.
“What is this place?” Genevieve ventured farther into the strange cave.
I faced the two large doors that towered as high as a three-story house. “This is the hall of heroes. All heroes who have died by the Azortilmu, or more commonly known as the golden glow, are carved into stone.”
Sword ran a finger over a statue. “Best craftmanship I’ve seen.”
“The Library sculpts them.” I ushered a sniffling Timothy along, his grasp of my hand tightening.
The last statue was of Adam, his father. He froze as he peered at the large man.
Sword and Genevieve trailed us. The boy released my hand. I placed my palms on the doors warm to the touch as they slowly swung open.
“What do you mean the Library did it?” Genevieve pulled hair strands back behind her ear.
The Library had rows of books on shelves that travelled down to the darkest side of the large room. Warmth hit my face as we entered. A man with a giant head of a hawk stood with drinks on a tray, Hawk was waiting for us.
“It’s him again.” Genevieve appraised the angel.
“He’s the keeper of the Library, and yes, he’s an angel.” I walked through the large opened doorway and into the hall filled with shelves and fire lit places.
A frozen Timothy stared at the face of his father. I waited for the others to pass me and called after them, “Hawk will show you how the Library is able to do things.”
My steps echoed in the hall. The boy turned to me, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I had a dream last night.” His voice was a whisper. “You saved me from being planted. The soil was hungry.”
The towering stone-carved man had the same hair as Timothy. The statue’s eyes bore into me, reminding me of the sacrifice his dad gave. Your father was the bravest man I knew, the type legends are made of. He strode in and rescued me when Piper captured me.”
“He was powerful, wasn’t he?” Timothy asked, searching my eyes. I wanted to tell him that his dad could’ve saved me sooner. A lot happened in three days.
“He was.” Timothy smudged and rubbed his eyes. “Okay, then, I’ll have to become powerful too.”
I patted him on the back. “That’s the spirit. Timothy… Come, let me show you something extraordinary.”
We entered the Library. His steps slowed as he swung his gaze from side-to-side at the rows of unending bookshelves. He gasped and pointed at the books that flew around the rafters. There were seats in the tiled floor with small smokeless-fires. Faces and places were painted on an extensive map hung on one wall. In the middle of the room elevated by steps and a platform was an overbearing table made of black wood.
“That’s a war table. We stood there, your father, a woman named Cindy, and I. The first three Cloaks in centuries. We were so sure we would win the battle over Lenost.” I became quiet as I remembered the screams, the pain of Lucy falling on the docks. “We just didn’t realize what it would cost.”
I guided him to a door in the wall. “Which room do you want?”
He bit his lower lip and touched the door before answering, “The weapons room?”
I opened the door. There was a squarish room with stacks of weapons lined on all the walls. He wanted to step in before I stopped him, pulling him back. I closed the door and opened it again. This time it was a bathing area with a vast pool that had steam drifting up from it.
“The Library gives you the room you ask for and sometimes, forcibly the room you need. Like now, I believe the room is saying you should take a bath.”
“I don’t know how to swim. Will you help me?”
I stepped back and gave him a smile. “That is what the keeper of the Library is here for.”
Hawk appeared as if he knew he had to be there at that moment. “What the young traveler seems to think is that because I cleaned his vomit and clothes during his first year that I am a servant.” He raised an eyebrow at me. “I even had to bathe you in one of your more…depressing days.”
I shook it off as he ushered the boy into the bathing room. I returned to the fire where Sword and Genevieve waited for me.
Sword was the first to notice me. “So, training? What type are we talking about?”
Before I reached them, I veered to a shelf and sighed as I held a hand out. A book from a shelf farther off sprung to life and flew into my hands. I offered it to Sword.
“History of the Cloaks. The Alhalma World, written by Yenpo, a fellow traveler. I’m going to train you so that you’ll receive your gift—a singular power given to a crimson cloak after they train in the way of the Cloaks.”
“What does that entail?” Genevieve stood up and brushed off her clothes.
I took a seat between them. She frowned and sat again.
“Demons, angels, and witches have an infinity to sense the unseen world or Alhalma while being in the physical. Unlike travelers, they cannot use or manipulate Alhalma.”
“I thought they came from the unseen world,” Sword said.
I cleared my throat. “Yes, but once in the physical, you abide by the laws of the physical realm. The gods and watchers can materialize and influence the physical, oh, and Ulhezaoi of course. Each of you will be given a weapon of sorts, a relic or gift. Whatever you would like to call it.”
“Where’s yours, then?” Genevieve threw her hair to one side. Living for four years alone and sulking while reading in my underwear made me quite irritable toward people’s interruptions.
“I don’t have one because I don’t need one.”
I held out my hand to warm inside the fire. The flames licked around my skin as the tongues of heat caressed my hand. When I took it out, a flame hovered above my outstretched palm.
“Monsters need a source for their power to truly manifest in our world. This power likened to the demons are called Elhusribo. That was what the battle in Lenost was all about. A bloodline of the Cloaks survived through the purge and a brother and sister carried it, like a key. A demon named Gum took that key by killing the youngest sibling, Lucy. He cut her in half, and she fell on the docks of Lenost. I tried putting her back together and using my power to heal her, but it wouldn’t bend. I gave up fighting after that. Adam killed Gum in his true form. Gum was a monster of a demon towering over the buildings and wielding a bow as his Elhusribo.”
I brushed off their slacked jaws and escaped by gazing at the ceiling. “Being a Cloak, you need to understand you’ll die in the end.”
“What is the golden glow that you spoke of earlier in the hall?” Sword used his weapon to poke the logs in the fire.
“It’s a moment where you’re so in the will of Ulhezaoi that you become possessed by Its power. For a short while, you are stronger than anything alive. Not even the gods can stand against you, but it comes with a cost. No one can survive the glow. It eats at your body, consumes you until you fall into nothingness. Adam died crumbling to dust in Sandra’s arms.”
Genevieve shook her head. “Why doesn’t It just end the war by snapping Its fingers?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s a question that puzzles me too. What do you do with so much power in your hands? You only have a few moments to use it. Can the human mind truly fathom that power? Can you plan for the moment you have it? You are in the complete will of the Maker. Can you go against it?”
Sword grunted. “I get it… You have thought about it.” The giant of man took the book from me. “And you’ve read about it, too.” He stood up and crossed to a large table. With his left hand that he held out, books flew off the shelves and made their way to him. “I should catch up.”
Genevieve jumped up to join him. She grabbed one book from the air and read the title, “A summary of the Cloaks.”
While they read, I walked to the door to a dark cave with small, glowing crystals. When I entered, the door closed behind me. I relished the silence and the beating of my heart. I sat and breathed out. I had little choice in the matter. This was going to happen. I was heading to the Deadlands. From what I read in the past few years, the version of myself who met with Sword and Genevieve was indeed correct. For this conflict to end, that gate needed to closed. I tried to connect with the energy inside of me, but something drove me over and pinned me to the ground. I opened my eyes and stared into the darkness of a being resembling me. There were no eyes. This was nothing new to previous attempts. I shoved him off me, sending him flying backward. I stood as its body became that of a silhouette.
“Why did you allow it to happen?” The question bounced around the room.
The crystals grew darker and darker as the darkness became alive and crept up to me.
“I didn’t allow it.”
The darkness shifted back again. “You killed her. You listened to her. She said you were a child. Your plan would’ve worked better.” The darkness had gathered speed and it rammed into me with greater strength. My heart raced. My spine chilled, and sweat ran down my armpits.
“I was a kid!”
A sudden force held me to the wall. My feet lifted off the floor, and the cold stone of the cave was at my back
“You, Seth, are a traveler. You had more power than any of them, and you could not save dear sweet Lucy.”
I tried to fight before opening my eyes and falling to the ground, gasping for air. Yet another meditation that didn’t go as planned.
