Echo, p.32
Echo, page 32
"God!" I clasped my hand to my chest. "You startled me."
"Did something explode?" he asked, referring to the burned clay orbs scattered around the floor.
"I was trying to invent a Magic Catcher," I said.
"A what?"
"Never mind." I grinned.
"And what happened to that?" He pointed at the remains of a broken chair.
"A failed attempt to levitate." I covered my face in embarrassment.
"When do you find the time for these things?" he asked. "We are together almost every minute of every day. I admire your dedication, Echo, but I’m worried you’re overworking yourself."
"What else can I do?" I shrugged. "My dedication is all I have." That came out more sarcastically than I intended.
"What’s that supposed to mean?"
I gritted my teeth, hoping to hold back for longer. Keep it together, Echo. Don’t be pathetic.
"Echo?" Kirby looked at me with concern. I remembered the words he once said to me. "I want you to deal with your emotions, Echo. You obsess about what to do and suppress all the feelings that truly matter." Not only was I terrible at confronting my feelings, but I let them out in the most sabotaging ways—attacking Zaros in the cave, murdering Leonard Morton and his cult, lashing out at Ebba. I was a walking time bomb that no one could stop.
"I can’t take this anymore," I cried out, plopping down on the ground and pulling my knees to my chest.
"What happened?" Kirby sat down and patted me on the back.
"Everything is out of control," I cried. Stop it, Echo. No one likes a self-pity party, but Kirby isn’t just anyone, is he?
"I’m supposed to be the chosen witch, but I dragged you all into war. Grandpa was killed. Doyle and Ebba traveled through time. Viessa is good now, and she has her potions. Vanna found her name. And all I do is watch you guys put your lives in danger. I feel like...I feel like I bring pain to people who care about me."
More than anything, I hated to be vulnerable. It took me a lot of courage to open up and say those things, so I was surprised by Kirby’s stern reaction. "I love you, Echo, but this is all nonsense."
"What?" I went blank.
"You like comic books, don’t you?" he asked. "Iron Man has the Avengers. Superman has the Justice League. No one is meant to fight alone... The idea of a chosen one and a hero who saves the day is absurd. The world doesn’t need a hero. It needs dedicated people willing to share their powers to make things better for everyone else. Chosen or not, you’re just a girl. A powerful, courageous girl, but still one girl. You need your army."
"But—"
"And you’re not watching us while we put our lives in danger. You’re on the front line. You’re our leader, and your job is to tell us what to do and when to do it. Use our powers in the most creative ways, and let’s fight that Jivar bastard together."
"But." I sniffled. "What if you get hurt?"
"I can’t speak for the others, but I’ll gladly die saving the world by your side, Echo." He grinned. "It’s not because I’m your spirit guide but because I want to be useful. I want my life to mean something, and I trust you, as my leader, to put me in the right direction and give me the chance to fight for what I believe in. You’ve always pushed through self-doubt, Echo. Keep doing that."
I rested my head on his shoulder. A gush of air swept my hair at my face, and the warm sunlight calmed my agitation. "What would I do without you, Kirby?" I asked in a teary voice. "Before I met you, my best friend was my car."
"Who are you kidding, Echo? That car was your only friend."
I tittered. "You’re the one to speak. Vanna told me about Aroob, your robot toy."
"Oh. Did she show you my poetry too?"
"Your what?" I pulled away, and my mouth slacked open.
"Never mind." Whistling, he looked away.
I cracked up, laughing while also crying, and quickly, he was caught in the laughter.
***
The sun sank, leaving behind a soft twilight. On the floor, I sat cross-legged with The Book of Recreation in my lap.
Footsteps thudded up the metal stairs leading to the roof hatch. I thought Kirby came back up to check on me, so I didn’t bother fixing my tousled hair.
"Kirby told me you were here."
I jumped up when I heard Doyle’s voice. "He-hey." I flicked the dust off my jeans. "How’s working with Viessa?"
"Good," he said. "I gave her a list of twenty-five beasts that might fight on Jivar’s side, and she’ll start working on the capsules."
"Did you consider the different timelines? Since the past changed, and Viessa never worked for Jivar."
"I did my best."
"Good, good." I cleared my throat.
As our eyes met, we fell into silence. Things had become weird between us since Joe came over. Now Viessa was back, and Heidi...I balled my fist, thinking about her. "Why did you come up here?"
"Uh." Doyle fumbled over an answer. He put his hand in his pocket and produced the Mitu Parim seeds. "I forgot to give you this. This is why I’m here. To give it to you." He sounded awkward.
I took the seeds from him, but he kept standing in place with his hands dug into his pockets and his head hanging down.
"Let me show you something," I said as I dug the seeds in a clay pot. Circling my hand above it, a gold glow emerged, and within a few seconds, Doyle and I watched the seeds grow into seedlings then bloom into a large plant with gray and blue leaves.
"Splendid," Doyle said, awe-struck.
"This is the Magic of Recreation," I spoke in a chirpy voice. "The basics, at least. I’m still on page thirty of the book Ebba gave me. Turns out that my magic is all about growing plants, curing diseases, restoring balance... Undoing the damage."
"I’ve only seen magic that can destroy," he said. "But you...you can heal the world, Echo."
"Heal the world?" I giggled. "I like the sound of that."
Doyle averted my eyes, and my heart clobbered. What happened to the closeness we had before?
Do I have to put a lid on my feelings without getting a chance to express them?
"I’m not back with Joe," I said as I placed the plant on the shelf.
"Y-you’re not?"
"I have been trying to tell you." I looked him straight in the eyes. "You jumped back and forward twenty-six years but didn’t have a minute for me."
"Echo..." Doyle ran his fingers through his hair.
"Anyway, I wanted to tell you about Joe and me, in case you’re wondering." I felt like giving an excuse. "Although I truly cared for him, it wasn’t love. I had to let him go."
"Amazing."
"Amazing?"
"I mean, good. You should be with someone you love. This is a...an insight." Doyle fidgeted, clearly avoiding eye contact.
"Speaking of love. Viessa is back."
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"Don’t you want to be with her?"
Doyle cleared his throat and hung his head. It took him a moment before he answered. "Viessa will always be in my heart. She’s a part of who I am."
My lips curled in a sad smile. Guilt crept into my mind as I thought about Doyle and Viessa. I shouldn’t be feeling this way.
"But I don’t want to be with her," he added. "Viessa and I bring out the worst of each other. We can’t be together."
I held my breath, saying nothing.
"This is one reason." He finally looked me in the eyes.
"Is there another?" I asked.
"I’m afraid I’m not allowed to say."
I huffed. The heaviness in my chest faded, leaving behind confusion and pent-up frustration. "Good grief. I’m not good with this, Doyle."
"You’re angry?"
"Yes, I am. Because I’m in love with you, okay?"
"You wha-?" Doyle’s eyes widened.
"Happy now?" I cried out. "You’re driving me crazy, sending mixed signals, and I don’t like games. We both suck at—"
I lost track of my words when Doyle seized me by the wrist and wrapped his arms around me. All the confusion and the anger were gone, and love overflowed me. Closing my eyes, I sank into his chest, melting in his embrace with no resistance. I felt safe.
"I love you, Echo." My heart fluttered when he told me the words I longed to hear.
"You do?"
"Yes," he whispered. "I fell in love with your kindness, your intelligence, and even your recklessness at times, but I thought I wasn’t allowed to tell you."
"Why?"
"You know who I am and what I’ve done. Why would you accept me?"
"Because I do." I slid my hands along his back in a slow caress, hoping he would understand my feelings—all of them. "I do."
When Doyle was younger, he built a shield around himself. He couldn’t afford to risk his heart by opening up to another person. Somehow, I slipped through his shield, and he through mine. He became my safe place, and I, his. Although we came from different worlds, we became home to one another.
***
A soft light peeked through the table lamp, making it easier for me to read despite the dimness of the living room.
"What are you doing?" Doyle’s silhouette appeared at the door.
"Good morning, Darling." I drew a silly grin on my face.
"Darling?" He chuckled.
"Honey? Sweetie? Good looking?" I cleared my throat. "I’m really bad at this."
"I like good looking," he said as he sat next to me and glanced at the three empty cups of coffee on the table. The sourness lingered on my tongue.
"What woke you up at this late hour?" I was fishing for an answer like, ‘thinking about you, baby.’ I was really, really bad at this.
He curled his lips. "Kirby tossed me out of bed."
I laughed.
"What page are you at?" he asked, referring to the book in my hand.
"Three hundred and seventeen. I have been poring over this chapter for an hour, and I still don’t get it."
"Why?"
"This part talks about grimoires. Listen." I put my finger on the page to trace the words. "To claim ownership of a grimoire, the essence of the soul is yoked beyond the physical realm and into the metaphysical. Such a spell would banish the soul into the Unknown. What does this mean?"
"To take a witch’s grimoire, one has to steal the essence of their soul," he explained. "Without the essence, the witch’s soul ceases to exist."
"Is this what happens when Jivar feeds on people?" I asked. "Does he steal the essence of their soul?"
"I suppose."
"So assuming he fed on noble witches before—"
"He did," Doyle said apologetically.
"Jivar has more than one grimoire?" I let that sink in. "Oh, God. What are we up against?"
I rested my head on Doyle’s shoulder. He put his arm around me and leaned in, nuzzling my face.
"We’ll find a way to fight him, right?" I asked.
"We will," he assured me.
***
My heart raced, matching the beat of my feet as they pounded on the ground. When did I start running? I didn’t remember.
A cobbled path stretched before me, leading to a familiar place, one that I despised. My chest heaved. I stopped and rested my hands on my thighs. Sweat dripped off my face, and the sour taste of the morning stung my throat.
In front of me, the wishing well stood. I rushed to it to get some water.
As I dangled the bucket into the well, I glimpsed a little boy playing with a ball. He threw it in the air, and it flew up in slow motion. Then a white glow flickered as the bucket splashed down into the water, and I was pulled in.
I grunted when I hit the hard floor. Sitting up, I saw the shelves of scentless grimoires awaiting their owners. The Barag? Why am I here?
"I have been waiting for you," a voice said, and a cold chill tore through me. Slowly, I turned around to see the royal tunic, the lifted chin, and the arms tucked behind his back.
"Jivar?" I cried out.
He gazed through the window. The streaming sunlight cast his shadow on the floor.
Arc 6: Recreation
Chapter 31: Soulless
Alone in his castle, Jivar waited for his rising. Sitting on his throne, he could have been mistaken for an ice sculpture. Then he sensed a change. Something altered the course of time. Someone did. Yet, Jivar’s memories remained intact. Viessa? He teleported to her room, but there were no signs of it ever being hers. The books, the crystal ball, and the old toy boat on the shelf had disappeared.
Upon returning to his chamber, Jivar found someone he never thought he would see again.
"Everything is ready, my lord," Zaros said with a respectful bow. "Should I capture Doyle and the witch?"
Jivar stared at the two-eyed Zaros without a blink. "You’re alive."
"Why wouldn’t I be?" Zaros’s voice mirrored his confusion.
Jivar sat on his throne and straightened his back. Although his mind was riddled with questions, his face showed no suspicion. "Tell me, Zaros. Have you ever been to the Land of Darkness?"
"I haven’t," Zaros replied with no hesitation.
"Have you ever contacted the Mortons behind my back?"
"I would never do that," Zaros cried out.
Jivar knew he was being truthful. Without Viessa in the picture, he never had to compete for attention or betray his lord.
"What do you know about Viessa?" Jivar asked, and a puzzled look appeared on Zaros’s face.
"I once had a sister named Viessa. She died when I was a child. May I ask for the reason behind your questions?"
"You may not." Jivar rested his hands on the armrests. "You asked about Doyle and the witch. Don’t go after them. Wait for them to come."
"Wait? My lord, this is not the wisest choice—"
"Learn to be patient, Zaros," Jivar preached. "Unless you are patient, you will bring your demise."
Zaros gritted his teeth. How could he understand Jivar’s endless patience? To see things Jivar’s way, one had to go back to the very beginning, to the moment Jivaros lost his soul.
***
In the beginning, there was rage. A fire burned inside Jivaros’s chest for the loss of the woman he loved. Though, it was soon replaced with emptiness. His soul evaporated, freeing him from the pain but leaving behind a hole. The sun no longer scorched his cheeks, the dryness in his throat no longer hurt, and he no longer cared for Rimanis’s body on the sand.
Intrigued by the change of heart, Jivaros kicked the body with his feet. A wide grin surfaced on his lips as he kicked it again and again. He was free of guilt, free of agony. He was no longer human.
The soul was a mystery science failed to unveil. Some called it a myth. Others tried to weigh it with scales. Only a few understood the power of a soul and knew what it was like to lose it. Jivaros did.
For days, he wandered in the empty world. He had eternity but no will to live it. How could the feeling of nothing hurt? How could one be thirsty for thirst itself? Jivaros let these thoughts run through his head, hoping they would give him the joy of pain.
They didn’t.
As time passed, his emptiness grew deeper, turning him into a human shadow. Nothing brought back his ability to feel—not the taste of the finest food nor the touch of the most desirable women; not the odor of spilled blood nor the voices of children pleading for mercy.
Town after town, massacre after massacre, Jivaros paved his road with the blood of the innocent. That was, until he came across a tribe of witches who welcomed him to their home as they too worshiped the dark arts and lived off plunder.
Among the bandits lived Kaimanu, a woman of pride and mischievousness. The jewelry on her chest clattered as she sashayed into Jivar’s hut. She offered him herself, but he refused. Thus, he became the forbidden fruit, coveted yet unattainable.
"If you had a soul, you would be at my feet."
"Perhaps." He snickered before stepping away.
"Don’t walk away from me," she shouted as she caught his sleeve. "Jivaros...I am the only one who can help you."
"How is that?" he asked, turning to face her.
She ogled him with her contoured eyes before summoning a black grimoire. "With this."
"Can you bring my soul back?"
"This is beyond any witch’s powers," she said with a titter, but then her voice went sultry and her eyes drippy. "But I bet I can teach you to feel again."
Kaimanu’s magic enabled Jivaros to feed on other people’s souls, stripping him of any residue of humanity. She offered him one of her people to consume. A bloodstained sacrifice, she called it.
Holding the man’s face in his palms, Jivaros inhaled. The victim winced and wailed as white light emerged from his mouth. His sweat became cold, almost as cold as Jivaros’s stare.
Ecstasy surged in Jivaros’s body as it sucked in the soul, heightening his senses and bringing awareness to his heart pumping and the breath passing to his chest. He relished all the emotions rushing into him—pleasure and pain, love and hate, bliss and torment. They were all equally joyful.
But Kaimanu’s powers couldn’t withstand the curse. The euphoria she evoked soon vanished, and callousness returned. Unfazed, Jivaros turned to her. She pursed her lips for a kiss, and he inched closer and held her face in his palms. Her musk perfume flew to his nose.
"Your turn." His voice revealed his intentions. Kaimanu tried to resist, but he gave her no time. He indulged her soul, granting himself access to her grimoire.
***
Throughout the millennium, many women fell for Jivar’s charm. As he toured different dimensions, he stole the heart of the humanoid, Iris, who followed him to the Land of No Return.
"Come with me, Jivar," the blue-skinned humanoid begged, kneeling in front of his throne with her dark, lustrous hair hanging down her back. "You have held onto your grudge for five hundred years. It’s about time to set yourself free."
"I cannot be free unless my plans are realized."
"To hell with your plans." She came to her feet. "Would you rather destroy the human world than spend eternity with me? If your soul cannot come back, why do you care?"
"I do not," he said in a dull voice. "I cannot... When will you understand?"
Iris sighed. Her parted lips revealed her long, white fangs. When she brushed her hair back, three small holes appeared on the side of her face. They looked like USB ports, not that Jivar knew what those were. In Earth time, that event happened in the early sixteenth century, but Iris’s world had already leaped to the age of artificial intelligence. Iris had offered to teach Jivar about her life, but no matter how much he saw, he remained stuck in the past.
