“It’s the path between then and now that will trouble you.”
“Is she in danger, or is it my twin?”
Silence.
“Tell me something. There must be some words of direction you can find peace with giving me. Sky has completely enchanted me.”
Seneca stared endlessly at me before she spoke. “You must find enchantment with more than the idea of her, for your time is limited to seal this bond.”
The gripping sensation of dread seized me. “What have you seen?”
“My visions are from the outside in, from a position of distance; Sky’s are from the perspective that matters, that carries emotion.”
That might explain why Sky seemed so comfortable with me. Most seers bond with souls that are embedded in their lives on sight because they have no doubt those souls will be with them on their paths.
“Where did she come from?”
“A new soul.”
“That is improbable. She is too aware.”
“Yes, but one must question where that awareness was fortified.”
I only stared in response.
“A greater power has allowed her to see what is to be, to see you. You must understand that would have only happened if there was great risk that either you may never hold her, or that you will be unwillingly parted from her.”
Rage for my evil twin erupted in me. I found blame for that risk with him. Only him. He was the only reason I would ever have to physically cross The Fall.
“She will see you through the eyes of a lover found once more, and you will see her through the eyes of a new lover. You must bridge that gap with haste.”
“Or I must stop what will part us.”
No response. Seneca pulled her hood up once more. “She is in your sitting room.”
“Mine?” I questioned with wide eyes.
Seneca nearly smirked. “We gave her a room of her own, and she made a porthole to you.”
“A porthole.”
“Yes, quite curiously. It seems that in that glimpse of life with you in the future, she discovered powers she has not yet learned or understood. She created a path to you, and though she was pleased when she discovered where she was, it was clear that she was fearful as well of the power she has displayed. I do not know how long she will stay lucid of this future she has seen. As your friend, I am telling you to open your mind, heart, and soul this day, and any day you are given past this one, for there is absence before you.”
Seneca turned to leave. I stood speechless. I had known her for the better part of my existence, and that was the longest conversation we had ever had in one passing.
I felt an odd sensation in my gut. It took me a second to realize that I was nervous…I had never noticed or dwelled on that emotion before, and to say the least I didn’t care for it.
My palms were sweating. My heart was thundering, and I had the hardest time remembering to take in air. I almost thought that I was infected, that I had somehow become ill and that speaking to Sky now would put her at risk, but then I understood what I was feeling. This infatuation. These butterflies. I had heard them mentioned as I gazed into The Fall. I had even heard those who have chosen to start their own family lines vaguely speak of such an emotion. Speaking of it and outwardly seeing the effects of the emotion were nothing compared to feeling them for the first time.
I had faced moments that would make most cower, but I had never been more afraid than the moment my feet began to carry me to my own sitting room.
Rat-a-tat-tat. My sweaty palms played that rhythm on my thighs as I walked into the room.
Sky was standing by the vast window, framed perfectly in the oval view. Though her eyes had dimmed once more and were losing the crystal reflection of blue, the gleaming tint of The Fall accented her long, lavender hair. The gown she was placed in was ivory. The dress was well-fitted, and due to the shade of the silk it was hard to understand where her skin and gown were separated. I held in a sharp breath that threatened to erupt from my lungs as my sinful eyes raced across her, and the beat I was playing with my hands stopped.
She was a dream. A vision of every flattering emotion that you could feel about a woman. I felt my energy reach for her. I held it back, not wanting to frighten her.
Though she seemed far more confident than me, I could see her tremble ever so slightly as she seemed to breathe me in. I knew without a doubt if we were standing in a room with others, they wouldn’t have noticed that break in her composure. I only noticed because I perceived everything about her.
I held out my arm, asking her to sit on the settee that lined the opposite wall.
As she went to move, she stumbled. I was at her side that instant, catching her before she even realized that she had toppled. I didn’t even take the time to think that her seeing me use my energy that way may have been more painful and confusing than her fall.
“Sorry, it’s the vim,” I said in a low, raspy tone as my eyes closed briefly. The feel of her skin, even with the silk barrier, was enticing. I could swear I felt a fever, a fire under my hands.
She glanced at her feet to the heels they had given her to wear. “Vim,” she repeated.
I found myself smiling, a charmed smile. She was so innocent, yet powerfully seductive at the same time.
“Um, no,” I said as I knelt before her and carefully removed the shoes from her delicate, perfectly shaped feet. Her hands rested on my shoulders for balance, and I could not stop myself from letting my hands linger on her calves as I took my time taking her shoes off. Hearing her sigh caused my body to tense and react in a way that was beyond polite or reasonable.
I pushed the tempting thoughts out of my mind and somehow found a way to relax a bit before I laughed at myself and stood. “These are heels. I’ve never understood why girls enjoy wearing them. Vim. That is energy. How I moved so quickly. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Now without the heels, her height barely reached my shoulder. I had to tell myself not to pull her into the cage of my arms. I knew she would fit so seamlessly there.
Logic was screaming at me, telling me that these emotions I felt for her were only this sharp, this aware, because I had lived in solitude for so long. I had denied myself even the slightest brush against another being, always staying focused on this time of compromise that had loomed over me since the moment I took my first breath.
My soul was telling my logic to go to hell. She was mine. I felt this way because my soul recognized her as so.
“You don’t scare me,” she said in a tender tone that carried a degree of determination that I had to respect. I could see the battle of thoughts and emotions in her eyes as well. She wasn’t terrified of me, but of the idea that I was only a dream; the way her hands squeezed against my flesh told me that. No doubt, her passage here was placing her in a misty fog that hazed the lines of the subconscious and conscious.
The dim light in her eyes had vanished; they were now glowing blue again. I reached my thumb to trace the bottom of her eye. “I don’t understand this,” I said to myself. I swear to you, when her gaze locked with mine the universe stood still.
I let my hand rest on the small of her back as I led her to sit down.
“Did you eat? How are you feeling?”
“I did. Well,” she said as a smile dangled on the edge of her rose-tinted lips.
“Are you sure? The Fall is a beast that must be respected. It can jolt your mind.”
“I didn’t come from The Fall.”
I swallowed nervously.
“Sky.” I halted. “Is that really your name? Did Seneca see it correctly?”
“In part. I think. It’s all fading. Everything but you.”
I pulled my stare from her eyes and looked through the energy around her. Though she had no obvious tracers, I could vaguely see a past behind her—at least I thought it was the past. She looked the same, yet the people around her almost seemed familiar to me—at least their energy did. Just as I went to focus on the images, they vanished, lea
ving only the idea of them behind.
“Tell me what you remember.” If I didn’t get her to latch on to a memory, she would lose it all. She had to find an anchor.
“You...looking for you.”
“Me?” I repeated.
All at once, this bliss of enchantment faded when I realized that if she had come from the other side, then she very well may have been looking for my twin, and that burned me. If that were true, I was no longer feeling slighted by being told to end him so I could find my life. Mine.
I started to tap my hands on my thighs. Rat-a-tat-tat.
“You play the drums.”
“Me? No, um, not at all,” I said as I looked awkwardly at the sticks that I had tossed on the table before I took a shower. What was it with the drums today?
“No, you do. I saw you. I know I saw you. You love it. It sets you free, you take your fears and anguish and explode them into a rhythm that is inconceivable. I could feel the sound vibrating inside of me. You inside.”
I coughed and turned away, trying to hide a blush. My wayward thoughts were not mingling well with her innocent conversation.
There was so much passion and reverence in her tone; every syllable was enticing to hear.
The only thing that centered me was knowing that my twin, as far as I knew, had never played an instrument that resembled the drums. Not once.
“I’m going to try something,” I said as my eyes met hers. “I, um, I’m odd in the manner that I can see someone’s past in their energy. Most of the time with a glance, but if I, if I can touch your skin. If you are calm, then that will help.” I reached for her delicate hands and laced my fingers through hers.
I let out a hiss as I felt a vibration soar through me when we touched. This woman was like a live wire, raw power. “If I can see it, then I give you names or places to hold on to. That will allow you to explore the memories, pull them back to you, if you will.” My fingers tightened around hers.
“I believe my path. I need you to believe yours. I need you to remember it when it happens.” There was a desperation in that tone that only made her words more confusing.
“Just relax,” I whispered as my eyes slowly traveled up her body. With just a slight shift in my eyes, I could see her energy reaching for me.
I didn’t refuse it. I wanted to see this girl. All of her.
At first I thought the images were false, that instead I was seeing my deep desires. I was holding her flesh against my flesh, I was whispering in her ear, smiling and laughing as I stole private moments of both innocence and seduction. I felt our energy weaving together as if it were made of one.
The atmosphere around us was eccentric, regal, dark. She was not the same in those visions, and neither was I; there were obvious years of trepidation behind our gaze that we sought to hinder or make up for with each stolen moment of passion.
Then the images turned horrid. Her grieving over my lifeless body. Her watching over me as I slept, curling her shadowed image against me. Her standing at my side as I engaged pure evil.
I could not comprehend this. I saw tracers backward. The end, the path, then the beginning. How could I have seen us at some end, savoring that end, only for the next scene to show my death?
Maybe she saved me from that death. That had to be it. Had to be why we seemed so grateful for each second we had together.
Every time I tried to focus on her, her energy pushed more images of me forward. I did see my image playing the drums. I didn’t recognize the place at all. There were instruments everywhere. A couch angled in the room. Windows that looked out onto distant treetops. And sitting behind a fierce looking drum set, I was there. I was playing. Commanding a rhythmic sound to life. She wasn’t there. I felt my heart clench.
I could swear I could feel the vibration of the music, as if it were screaming around us now. That vision paralleled with others for a flash or two. I saw myself performing in auditoriums, outside venues, and then oddly I saw myself performing for what looked like the dead.
I rapidly searched everywhere for her as the scenes moved closer to the beginning. I could feel her in those images. Afraid, scared, lost, hidden. Her energy was reaching for me, but I could not see her. I was blind, which made no sense. No man could ever be blind to her; it was just impossible.
I winced every time I saw myself die, when I saw other girls in my arms.
At that point, I overpowered her energy with a few simple words. “I see my torrid path. Show me where you are.”
A shuddering breath left her, one that enshrined shame.
I didn’t like anything I saw. She was fragile. She was targeted. For some reason, she seemed far more aware of me than I was of her, and she was terrified that if she took one misstep that she would not find me. That thought made her a victim. It made it easy for others to take advantage of her, and most of all it made her lonely.
What was mystifying was that I only saw one death of hers, and it didn’t even seem to be a death. It’s hard to explain, but it was as if her soul became shadowed, masked, and that mask hid her even more. That mask put her in grave danger, next to souls that were far more selfish than giving.
The notion that she had created a porthole to reach me this very day was no longer a mystery. Her heritage, the one life she was born in to was one that recognized the energy of the universe, the power of thought, spoken words, or the simplest herb. Her mother taught her quickly; it was almost like she knew her daughter would be in danger.
Seneca only told me half her name. I heard her mother call her Skylynn. I loved that name.
I started this process because I wanted an anchor, I wanted her to remember her past, but as this moved forward I didn’t want her to remember any of this. I wanted her to forget it. I wanted to secure her away and ensure she never saw the other side of The Fall, not even a glimpse of it.
I kept shifting back between the images I had seen of her and me, trying to line us up, trying to find a reason why we were here today, but the visions she was showing me manifested a past we had not yet lived. I was witnessing a story that had not happened, seeing the consequence before the action.
“Did you witness this?” I breathed. I had to figure out how to stop this.
“He showed me.”
“Who?”
“I don’t…” She was trembling now. I released her hands and slowly moved my hands up her arms, trying to comfort her. She sighed as if she found some kind of relief from the confusion. “He was an older man. I was sitting with him beside a shore before a fall of water or something. I saw all of this, I felt all of this…this life.”
“Did he take you there? Do you remember where you were before that?”
She moved her head from side to side. “Nothing. I…I remember becoming anxious because I didn’t like what I saw. I begged him to help me change it.”
“Did he put a price before you?” I knew of many dark things on the other side of The Fall, and if any one of them had cursed her, cursed us, I had no idea what I would do—but I would not be sane. That much was certain.
“No, not at all.” She smiled a little. “He told me…he said we were the solution.”
“To what?”
“I don’t know. I argued with him. I know that I did. I told him that it was cruel, that it made no sense for me to search so fiercely for someone I had never met, for me to endure such horrible things for the mere idea of someone.”
I raised one brow. Logic was telling me the same thing, but the urgent way our souls were pulling each other together at that moment was arguing that fact.
Before I walked into this room, she was an angel I wanted to know; now after seeing all of that, she was a lover that I knew better than my own soul.
“He said that he would remedy that.”
“Remedy?”
She nodded once. “He said he was going to give us the rare gift.” Her eyes glassed over. “The rarest gift of all…entering a life with all the emotions and lessons, with only one task.” Her
voice quaked. “Not forgetting them.”
“I’m not going to forget you,” I swore without a thought.
One lonely tear rolled down her cheek. As it glided down her porcelain skin, I could swear I felt a blade slicing through my heart. That was the underlying issue in each image she gave me. She was searching endlessly for me, knowing what my energy felt like, knowing I was hers, and I was blind. I was lost.
“Three days. He said that three days would bind us. He said we would feel the end before the beginning ever came.” She reached to wipe away a second wayward tear.
What was so frustrating was that I could not see the time she witnessed this. I could not see or hear the man that had forecast this future that was played out as if it were a past before my eyes.
“Did he seem cruel to you? Did he use words or statements that could be seen in more than one way—did he tell you to do something to avoid this?”
“I was at peace with him. If it wasn’t for that, I would have far more fear for what I saw, what I felt. His words were simple and few. He never asked me for anything or told me what to do to avoid all of this. He just gave me the three days, the emotions.”
I glanced away. Three days. That wasn’t enough time. I felt defensive and protective all at once. I felt like a starving man that had had a feast laid before him and was told not to touch it.
“What else did he say?”
Heat flamed her cheeks as she cast her stare away from me.
“I…I questioned how I could show you what was before you, how I could convince you that we were one.” She squeezed her eyes closed. “He told me that just as the soul is divided, created, and just before they become one once again, they know who the other is without the foundation of time, reason, and logic.”
Logic, my own personal evil…
We knew the end, and we knew if we felt such a gripping ending, then the fight to get to these emotions was a brutal one.
“He told me to stare into the pools of water. To see it all. To take one last glance at my course…I did…and then the next thing I remember is you.”
My eyes locked with hers. I was doing my best to commit the memories she had in her tracers to my mind. They had all but faded now. The only thing that remained was the emotions, emotions that my body wanted to act on, that logic said could not happen because I just met her in this present day.