Echo, p.33
Echo, page 33
"What if you failed, Jivar?" Iris asked. "What if you miss the eclipse or lose your vessel? Will you come with me then? Or will you wait for another five hundred years?"
"I have learned to be patient," he said nonchalantly.
"Well, I have not." Striving not to cry, Iris stood still. Her eyes blamed him for her broken heart.
"I should have never come here," she said before walking away. Standing at the door, she looked over her shoulder to ask one last question. "Is it entirely gone? Your soul, it’s not here."
"It was never here," he answered.
***
Five hundred years ago, the sun, the moon, and the earth came in alignment, turning the day into a perfect night. Yet, in the darkness emerged a fiery ring that centered itself in the sky.
The blood of a virgin, the bones of an infant, and dust from the grave of a saint—Jivar’s worshipers pounded the ingredients and used them to draw an inverted pentacle on the top of the Lon Mountain. The vessel sat in the middle. A black cloth covered his face, and iron chains restrained his movement.
The worshipers joined hands and waited for their unholy miracle. Jivar had lured them in with his false glory, promising them paradise. In the desolate valley of the Land of No Return, he replicated their altar. He stood under the two shining suns, surrounded by an army of Katarus.
"Appear to me," Jivar chanted, summoning four grimoires, one for each noble witch he had killed. Fearing the extravagant power, the Katarus retreated.
Jivar opened his palms to the sky and invoked his spell.
The ground beneath him vibrated. A moaning wind blew sand into his mouth, but he didn’t care. Nothing mattered but his plans. The rising day had finally arrived, or so he thought. For a reason beyond his comprehension, the shaking stopped, and the wind calmed. Blood oozed out of Jivar’s nose. He stared at the floating grimoires, wondering why his spell didn’t work.
Only then did he realize the flaw in his plan. No matter how many grimoires he collected, he never had his own. He relied on borrowed power, which could only take him so far.
***
Jivar barged into the Barag, where a spirit of light stood guard. She had hair and eyes as gray as murky clouds. Like many women of the time, she wore a long gown with a minutely pleated chemise that covered the neckline of her low-cut bodice. The narrow sleeves drew attention to the gold rings on her fingers.
At the sight of Jivar, she curled her fingers, summoning her sword of light. "Why are you here?"
"To find my grimoire," he answered. "I imagine after five hundred years of magic, I have earned nobility."
"A grimoire is made from the essence of a witch’s soul," she spat out her words with bitterness. "You have no soul."
Jivar strutted towards the spirit, whose nostrils flared. He clutched her neck and lifted her off the floor. Though she strove to breathe, she stayed unshakable. "Kill me if you want. It will change nothing."
"You are right." Jivar put her down. "Safety, is this your name?"
"How did you know?" she asked and wrinkled her forehead.
"You are not the first spirit I encountered," he said. "I applaud you. Safety can make a devoted warrior; however, you have a fatal weakness. You would do anything for what you must protect, regardless of the greater good."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean..." Jivar pointed his finger up, and the sound of thunder struck. The sky outside turned murky, and the Barag shook, bringing down the shelves with the grimoires.
"What are you doing?" Safety flung her sword, but he snapped it into halves.
"Do not do this," she cried out. As the bricks fell from the ceiling, she became shaky, vulnerable. "I pledged to protect this place with my life."
"Alas, it has no use for me," he said.
"No, no." She waved. "You are wrong. It does."
"Does it?" Jivar put his hand down, and the shaking paused. "Enlighten me."
Safety’s eyes glistened with tears, yet her face showed only her disdain towards Jivar. "There is a prophecy. A witch will be born to the cursed bloodline. She will be chosen to fight you."
Jivar snorted. Safety’s words sounded like a bad joke. He raised his finger again, and the shaking continued.
"I beg you, listen to me," she hollered. "The chosen witch will have your grimoire."
Jivar lowered his hand.
"The witch’s soul will be born from the essence of yours," the spirit explained. "If you feed on her, you will claim your grimoire. But you must wait until she is born."
Jivar considered the new revelation. "I have learned to be patient," he said, waving his hand to restore the Barag to its original state.
"Thank you for keeping this place alive." Safety dropped her head in surrender. "You have my gratitude."
"I do not care for it," Jivar said before opening his palm with an electric charge that darted towards the broken spirit.
It took five hundred years of patience before Safety’s words came true and Echo was born into the world. But the sour years never changed Jivar’s mind nor stirred his confidence. No matter what, his plans would be realized.
***
Two days before the eclipse, I found myself on a date I never planned. At the Barag, Jivar awaited with his chin lifted proudly and his arms folded behind his back.
"I have been waiting for you," he said, turning to show his face.
My heart skipped a beat. "Y-you know who I am?"
"More than anyone. Born to the cursed bloodline, the chosen witch is destined to fight the impending evil," he recited. "Fascinating how preposterous prophecies can be."
"How so?" I tried to look calm, though my legs were shaking.
"Prophecies are anything but inevitable," he explained. "Yours claimed you are predestined to defeat me. Yet, all it did was lead me to you."
My stomach hardened as Jivar took some heavy steps towards me. I tried to teleport away, but it didn’t work.
"What do you want from me?" My brain failed to think of an escape. We were in a room with no exit, floating among clouds.
"Echo Blackwood." He reached out and held my face in his ice-cold palms. "You are my secret weapon."
Chapter 32: Mind Games
A pink hue brightened the sky. Little birds assembled on the tree branches and chirped, celebrating the spring. All over the park, flowers had bloomed, giving off a mix of beautiful aromas.
"Are you happy with your new book, sweetie?" Grandpa asked as he tied my hair with a butterfly-shaped band.
"Very much, Grandpa," I cheered, dangling my feet off the bench and gazing at the unicorn on the cover of my new storybook. "Can you read the name for me?"
"I can. I can," said young Tara, raising both hands with excitement. "It’s the Little White Horse."
"Look at you, big girl." Grandpa patted her on the head.
The ice-cream bike chimed from a distance. Young Tara put her hands together. "Grandpa, please. Can I get one?"
Grandpa turned to me. "Do you want one?"
"Hmmm." I put my finger on my chin. "Can we still have cake later?"
"Of course we’ll have cake. It’s your birthday," he said joyfully, giving me a wide grin.
Grandpa asked me to wait while he and Tara went to get the ice cream. Had I known what was about to come, I would’ve never let them go. Clueless, I watched a family sitting on a picnic blanket—the kids capering around while the mother unboxed lunch. We had never done that before, at least not with Mother on board.
A gurgling sound shifted my attention to the wishing well nearby. Shyly, I approached and looked at my reflection in the water. "Hello, magic well," I said. "I don’t have any pennies, but it’s my birthday. Can you make my wish true?"
I hesitated.
"Can you bring Daddy back to us? If Daddy is back, Mommy will be happy and stay with us more. We can all go on a picnic. Picnics are nice."
The water whirled, and my eyes lit up, thinking the magic well had granted my wish. But then there was a howl. The birds stopped singing and winged their way in the air. I tried to step away, but the water pulled me. I screamed my way into the well until I hit a hard floor.
"I have been waiting for you," a voice said. I lifted my head to see a handsome prince with long hair that glistened in the sunlight. We were in a round room with strange-looking books.
"Please, help me," I cried out. "I fell into the magic well."
"You have nothing to fear now, child," he said. As he came closer, I sensed something unpleasant about him. I held my storybook close like a safety blanket.
He crouched and pulled me up to standing. Holding my face, he whispered something. Warm tears flew down my cheeks and to his freezing hands, and a white light came out of my mouth. It felt like he was pulling out my insides.
For a second, the man looked happy, so happy that it scared me. But then the white light changed direction, going back into my body.
"Impossible." Jivar let go of me. "The soul is rejecting me. I cannot take you."
I didn’t understand what he said. Weeping, I begged him to take me home.
***
I sat in a dark room where I barely made up the furniture. Covering my mouth, I tried to control the sobs and not make a noise. A crack of light peeked from under the door, and I overheard two people talking. "What is Lord Jivar thinking?" said a boy with an unforgiving tone. "This is not an orphanage."
"He said she’s a noble witch," a girl replied. "Tell me, brother, can you beat a noble witch?"
He snorted. "She’s just a child."
"Now. But when she grows up, she’ll be his favorite."
"What are you saying, Viessa?” the boy spoke with irritation.
There was an awkward pause, broken when the girl began to hum. "Row, row, row, your boat, gently d—"
"Will you stop this already?!" the boy yelled. "What the hell are you holding in your hands?"
"A story. The girl had it with her."
"Give it to me. Maybe it’s a secret spellbook."
Viessa tittered.
"What are you laughing about, you lunatic?" the boy asked. "This is not a spellbook. It’s just trash."
The book thudded on the floor.
Although fear had numbed all my other emotions, a part of me grieved for losing that storybook—the one familiar thing in a world of unknowns. But destiny had its way of weaving things together. Not that I knew it at the time, but the book I lost ended up with Doyle, who found it on the floor of the castle. It was the first book he ever read, the one that shaped the person he grew up to be, bringing us closer before we even met.
***
I shrieked. Something in my leg popped as a stranger dragged me by the arm and swaggered along the stone bridge. The stars overhead shone glaringly, helping me see the hateful face of my kidnapper. He was dressed in a purple coat and had an ashy smell that tingled my nose.
"Please, let me go," I cried.
"I told you to stay quiet." He squeezed my wrist in his giant hand. "You’re a pest, and they call you noble. I’ll show you what real power can do."
As the stranger rushed me along the bridge, a voice blared through the night, causing his hand to shiver. "Zaros," it said, and the stranger halted, forcing me to stop. His knees buckled at the sight of the prince emerging from the darkness.
"L-lord J-ivar." Zaros buried his head.
"Let go of the girl," Jivar commanded, and finally, my hand was free.
"You don’t need her, my lord," Zaros begged. "I’m all you need. I’ll grow powerful and—"
A loud slap sounded when Jivar slammed his hand at Zaros’s cheek. My heart sank, not knowing which one of them to fear more.
"You disobeyed," Jivar said, and Zaros threw his forehead to the ground.
Crouching to match my level, Jivar put his hand on my shoulder. "Listen to me, Echo. It is unsafe for you to stay here, but we shall meet again." His eyes flashed a red color. "Go home. Forget what happened today."
***
For years, I had blocked the memories of the day Jivar and I first met, but they came to me as I sat on the cold floor of a dark prison cell with rusty iron bars. Did this really happen? I pressed my hands to my head. No wonder I hated Oracles Park. The thought of Doyle and the book brought warmth to my heart, but it was overpowered by everything that had happened.
Across the room appeared a shadow of a person.
"Hello," I said, but she didn’t answer. When I waved, she waved back. When I clapped my hands together, so did she. "Is this a mirro—?"
"Boo!" She jumped closer to show herself. Standing in front of me was...well, me. The brown hair and green eyes, the red-and-black plaid shirt, the silly grin on her face—she was me.
I smacked my chest."Who the hell are you?"
"A friend. A guide, maybe."
"And why do you look like me?"
"I thought it’d be easier to show up in a face you like," she said with a shrug. "Any special requests?" She winked.
I had no tolerance for jokes. Opening my palm, I created a fireball the size of a watermelon. "What do you want?"
"Heeey." She stepped back. "Put that off. I came in peace."
"Speak." I withheld the attack.
"I’m here to talk to you about Jivar," she said. "What the hell happened in the Barag?"
"The Barag?" My memory glitched. "I remember he said something. He said I’m his secret weapon. What does this mean?"
"Poor thing. Haven’t you figured it out yet? Let me enlighten you," she spoke with an annoyingly cheery voice. "For Jivar’s ritual to work, he needs the grimoire created from the essence of his soul. But before immortality, Jivar wasn’t noble."
"And what does that have to do with me?"
"Everything. As the chosen witch, your soul was created from Jivar’s essence. You’re his echo, Echo." She laughed.
"That’s absurd." I crinkled my nose.
"How else do you explain the things you do? Your proficiency in the dark arts. Your ability to use different elements. You can only do these things because he can. You two are connected."
"No way..."
"This is all a part of Jivar’s plan," she added. "From the moment Katarus showed up at your sister’s wedding. Who do you think sent them? Jivar wanted you to master your powers so you can help him."
"Impossible." I shook my head.
"You’ve always known, Echo." She folded her arms and offered a sly grin. "All you have is your dedication. Isn’t that what you told Kirby?"
"Shut up," I croaked with frustration.
"Don’t get mad at me." She threw her hands up. "I’m here to help. At this rate, you’ll be the one doing the rising ritual for Jivar, killing Doyle and everyone else."
Heidi’s words rang in my mind: When the war comes, you won’t be fighting Jivar. You’ll be helping him.
"Jivar will use the Magic of Minds on you," she said. "You won’t be able to say no."
"God," I uttered as my head hung helplessly. "What am I going to do?"
"I can’t answer that," she said. "I can, however, show you a glimpse of the future."
***
We teleported to a moldy basement, where a group of people huddled on a torn-up blanket. Dirt streaked their faces and clothes.
"How’s she doing?" one of them whispered, and I recognized her voice immediately.
Heidi? She looked defeated, helpless, unlike the obstinate cop I knew. When I looked closer, I saw another familiar face, sitting next to her with a child in her arms.
"Not good." Tara pressed a wet cloth on Lillian’s forehead. "I hope they make it back with the drug."
"I hope they make it back." Heidi lowered her head.
"Tara? What’s wrong?" I cried out, but my sister never looked at me.
"It’s a vision, Echo," the guide said. "They can’t hear or see you."
Everyone turned when the metal door squeaked open. Heidi raised her gun. Into the room, four people carried an injured man that I also recognized.
"Jackson," Tara screamed. She handed the child over to Heidi and hastened to see her husband.
"He’ll be fine," someone said. "Let him rest."
"We have Lillian’s drug." Jackson raised his limp arm with a bottle of medicine. The rip in his shirt revealed his wounded shoulder.
"I’ll take care of it." Heidi took the medicine and hurried to give it to the child.
The metal door clanked when Vanna closed it. I hadn’t noticed her. In the dim corner, she seated herself, saying nothing.
"Where’s Kirby?" Tara asked her, but she didn’t reply. Looking at her husband, Tara shed a tear. "Oh my God."
"This place ain’t safe anymore," a woman said. "We gotta move."
"To where?" Heidi asked. "The entire area is surrounded."
"Isn’t she a spirit or whatever?" The woman pointed at Vanna. "She should find someplace safe for us."
"She’s right." A man stood up. "Why don’t you use your powers to get us out of here?"
"Leave her alone, Jeff," Jackson tried to shout.
"Have a heart," Tara shouted through her tears. "She just lost her brother."
"We all lost people," Jeff replied. "But she promised to protect us."
"And I did," Vanna broke in as she pushed herself up to face them. Her blood-shot eyes glinted in the dark basement. "After the rising, my brother and I could’ve traveled back to our world, but we chose to stay and help. For six months, we have been endangering our lives to protect you, and in the end..." Her voice wobbled with emotions. "In the end..." Her lips trembled as her eyes betrayed her. Vanna, whom I had never seen tear up, was weeping.
"My brother is dead, and soon you’ll all follow. I’ll be left alone in the remains of this dead world."
"Don’t say this," Tara cried out. "I have hope. What about Zaros? He said he’d find a safe dimension for us."
