been my sleep deprived brain overreacting to the outside emotional stimuli as well. Any lore I’d ever read as a child said they preferred human children over adults, so more than likely they may be the silent judges I felt.
Without realizing it I’d made my way to the abandoned study area. It was just as I’d left it last and I entered the area without resistance. Immediately, I picked up the journal I’d set down to prioritize my training. I could take a day for myself. What better way to get lost than by reading about another’s life. I sat in the dusty, uncomfortable chair and opened the journal.
March 1, 1680
I have lived this colonial life since I was born. My father had moved to the Americas from England after King Charles awarded him land in a new colony called Carolina. My mother came with him and had me soon after they landed. Together they built a new life and my father ran the ship yards, assuring only English ships were allowed to leave port with goods to trade. It is an honest life and one he expects me to assume.
But today is the day I leave. I have left a note and even now am sitting in a carriage that is taking me as far West as it will go. It is an untamed land I seek. I wish to make a life for myself, not to continue a life that was handed to me. My brother had always been more interested in the ships than I ever was.
There is a pull in this direction that I cannot deny. It calls to me more than any soft life I could have lead in this tiny colonial town. I wish to live.
J.R.
March 3, 1680
I had a dream last night during my travels. I dreamt of a field full of dandelions. They were in full bloom and stretched as far as the eye could see. A strong gust came through and blew their seeds into a beautiful whirlwind.
Today I found the exact field and watched as the seeds blew into a dust devil. A cold chill had crawled up my spine and squeezed my heart. What is happening to me?
J.R.
March 5, 1680
I have reached the farthest outpost and will now have to continue on my way. With the last of my money, I purchased a small covered wagon and a horse. The wagon is being loaded with food and supplies as I write. I will admit that I am nervous about the Indian inhabitants on the roads. From what I understand they will kill on sight. I have purchased a small pistol and blade for my protection. I wasn’t entirely sure I would be able to use them, but the man had shown me how to load it and how to clean it.
I have months of travel in front of me. I only hope that I reach my destination safely. Where my destination is, I’m still not sure. I just know I have to go West. I will reach it and when I do, I will know it for my destiny.
J.R.
The rumbling in my stomach pulled me out of the pages that consumed me. I had to know more. I rubbed my gritty eyes and wondered how long I’d been here. When I sat up, my back cracked and my legs were pins and needles. Perhaps it was time to take a break.
I found a plate with a sandwich and chips, as well as a soda, on the floor outside the circle. Someone was looking out for me. I smiled and thought of Alexandar. Maybe just a few more chapters and then I’d go find him.
The sandwich had been sustaining. I put the empty plate and cup back outside the circle and returned to my work. I knew that I needed to be careful. If I wasn’t, I could easily get sucked into this tangent and forget my training altogether. Because of this I made a pact with myself. I would only read a few more chapters then I go take a nap, or perhaps a bath, before finding Alexandar to resume our lessons. Having made up my mind I settled back into the chair. It somehow seemed less uncomfortable and more supporting now.
March 20, 1680
So much has happened. Within the first day of my travels I was beset upon by the Indians I feared. They tried to shoot me full of arrows, but I stopped them! It was astonishing the power that filled me at the meeting of my own demise. I knew I was meant for greater things but this was unbelievable. I. Stopped. Time.
The arrows were bearing down on me, just like the carriage was the child, and then they stopped. I pulled my arms down from the position they had assumed to protect myself and plucked the silent arrows from their frozen place in the air above me. I turned them away so that if they were to continue their flight, it would be to the ground.
It took me a long time to restart what I had stopped. I ended up exhausted and shaking before I collapsed and time began again. The Indians had approached me and gazed at me as if I had two heads. One uttered a word: Estanatlehi. The others fell to their knees and helped me up. They took me and my supplies to their camp where I was give food, clothes, jewelry and women.
From what I could gather they thought that I was a favorite of some Goddess they worshiped, the Goddess of the passing seasons. They took care of me while I recovered from whatever it was that I was suffering from and then sent with me a small band of warriors to see me to my destination. A lot of time has passed while I recovered, but now I have a company of my own to help see me to my destiny.
J.R.
March 22, 1680
Spring is upon us and the warriors are restless. Though it has only been two days since we left their home it seems the language barrier has begun to wear on them. We have been beset upon by rival tribes twice now and it seems as if it will only continue. We have not lost a single warrior though. The dreams have been warning me before the attacks.
I believe this to be the reason they have not yet left me on this journey. They are always awed when I predict what we will see or encounter next. I have been following the landmarks I see in my mind and the farther I go, the more intense the pull. I have begun to see faces and I wonder if these are the people I am looking for.
A cloud has also descended upon my dreams. I have begun to see fighting and awful things the farther I go. I see Indians being tortured and extorted. I see things that I would rather leave unsaid. Things that make bile rise to my throat and burn the back of my mouth. I keep these visions to myself, but I promise that I will help these people. I do not care what the cost is to me, I will help them.
J.R.
April 1, 1680
One of the warriors has taken sick and we have placed him in the back of the wagon. He was bitten by a snake as we walked and let out a horrifying scream. For a moment I was back in my dreams, witnessing the horrors that plague me nightly. I rushed to the man’s side but the snake had already slithered away. His fellows wound a length of leather about the affected area and began sucking at the wound.
I watched as a discolored liquid poured out of the bite marks. They placed him in the back of the wagon to rest. We resumed our travels but he quickly turned ill. I fear he will not make it through this night. Why didn’t I see this? I have seen everything so far that has been a threat to our party. Why would something that could kill one of the warriors not be foretold to me in my dreams?
The warriors look at me as if I had kept this from them on purpose and I wonder what they whisper about when they think I am asleep. They do not feel the same pull as I do to continue on. Now that they have lost one of their own, will they continue? Will honor be enough reward for them? I hope so.
J.R.
I stretched and set down the journal. I wanted to keep reading but I also needed to keep the promise I’d made myself. I could always read a little each day. There could be some secrets locked in these journals that we needed. Nodding to myself I stood. My neck felt pinched and my back was stiff. My stomach was rumbling even though I’d just eaten.
I walked out of the circle and ran directly into Alexandar.
“What the hell were you doing?” Alexandar grabbed my arms and shook me hard.
Shocked, I just stared at him.
“What is wrong with you?” He shook me again.
“What do you mean?” I broke his hold and shoved him back. “I was reading, what’s wrong with you?” I demanded.
“You were in there for three days!” He shouted at me.
“That’s absurd,” I walked past him and continued on toward the exit.
&n
bsp; “It’s true,” he told me. “I was worried.”
The sincerity in his voice had me pausing. I mentally took stock. I did seem fatigued beyond what should have been just a few minutes of reading, and I was famished.
“Three days?” I turned back to him and he nodded.
“How is that possible?”
“I don’t know,” he shook his head. “But I think you need to be careful when you’re reading those journals. There could be residual energy trapped in them from while he wrote.”
“Only a few minutes passed for me,” I rolled my neck to get out the kinks that seemed to have taken up residence. “But my body feels like it was sitting for an extended amount of time.”
“So maybe it slows down the mind?” Alexandar caught up with me and we headed toward the door to the corridor.
“Perhaps some sort of comprehension retardation?” I frowned. “I’m a very fast reader. I only stood up after reading a few chapters because my stomach was telling me I needed to eat. I got up the second time because my back hurt. Interesting. You can spell objects with your Element in a way right? Like the books.”
“In a way,” Alexandar frowned.
“Then if this is the Time Elemental, or Time Warden as the Agent of the Void, called him,” I theorized. “It’s possible that he spelled the books to slow down time within that bubble when they are