Destiny (1)
Chapter 5

I swung around, wriggling my hand out of the steel grip of him, a trifle light-headed from the rush. Ash faced me curiously, his eyes piercing.

Uh oh.

Feeling disorientated, I flicked my gaze around the room, looking for an emergency exit, to no avail. With a nasty jump, I realised my hat was on the floor. My curls were cascading over my shoulders, leaving the green prominent. At least it was covering the tattoo-like mark. Sighing in defeat, I turned back round, as slow as possible.

“What do you want?” I moaned, “Are you hoping to torment me? I need to get back to class.”

Ash continued to stare at me, and I was beginning to feel uncomfortable. His eyes were… I would say triumphant, and I noted the kaleidoscope of hues going around in circles in there.

“I’ve always waited to replace someone like me, with the same power.” He continued his unwavering gaze, intently waiting for my reaction.

“I’m sorry, what?” This guy was crazy. Ash’s expression suddenly changed.

“Don’t you know what you are? What you’re becoming?”

“I…” It was true that I had felt different lately, but what would, how could, why… My head was suddenly clouded with questions, wanting to know how Ash could even have the faintest idea what was happening with me recently. Or how he knew that I was different…?

“You have to come with me. Please. I’ll show you what's happening.”

I don’t know why I went with him. Maybe it was because I was curious beyond measure. Maybe it’s because I’m stupid. Or maybe I’m a lunatic. Either way, this is how it went:

“Look at this.”

I abstained from cursing as I felt my patience waver. A worn notebook sat on the table. If you’re wondering why I’m impatient, it’s because at first, Ash tried to fish the book from his school bag, only it wasn’t there, so I went and endured a History lesson, while he nipped home to get it. Finally he returned, twenty minutes later than he’d said he would be, claiming it was hard to replace.

“This is my modernised version of the Scrolls written by Johnathon Walter, who wrote them at the time of the Domesday Book was being made, in the eleventh century. It makes a fascinating read.” Ash smiled down at me expectantly. “I had a look at it, and I’ve made it into a more accessible version for people living nowadays.” His face suddenly fell. “Of course, it's only been me for a while now,” he mumbled.

I opened the book tentatively, and read on. In Ash’s slanting handwriting, a story was told…

Humans were assigned as guardians of different elements of the world. This race of humans was called the Guard. The Guard stood for two centuries, protecting the world, until a woman named Flavia Burbage went haywire, using her powers in unwise ways, trying to gain control of the non-magical world. The non-magical folk blamed the Guard for this so they had to control Flavia quickly. They created the Sceptre, a deadly device which could absorb the power of any member of the Guard, and store it there. Once the Guard had dealt with Flavia, they agreed to become a secret from the non-magical race so that they would not be blamed for the Guard’s faults.

One century later

Since the powers of the world were spread evenly out between the members of the Guard, if one of them died, their powers would be passed on to another random person. This person would have to already be part of the Guard, of course. The only way to become part of the Guard was if your parents were already, or if you stole another’s powers with the sceptre.

Anyway, once the Guard was aware of the even spread of the powers, known as the Aequum, some realised that if they killed the rest of the Guard, they would become the ultimate rulers of the world. This led to the massacre of over one thousand members of the Guard, and they faced extinction. This was the real cause of the Harrying of the North.

The others who survived fought back, and three people from the group trying to kill everyone (called the Victores) lived and went into hiding and four people from the innocents survived and hid from the world. (From now on, I am cobbling together the story from what my mother told me) ;c)

The Guard grew in numbers, but so did the Victores, getting ready for an attack. Everyone thought the Victores would have the first move, but the Guard became impatient, and decided to lead a siege. The army was led by Alaya and Zyon, who were said to have brought their daughter along to the battle, where she perished. People on nearby islands said that they could hear a woman’s anguished scream. Allegedly, Alaya was the last person standing, after the leader of the Victores, Luka Mydes, in his rage of the deaths of the rest of his army, conjured a wall of mist to keep the invaders out. Alaya died. (This intel was gathered from Theresa, a woman who happened to be taking a walk near there at that time.)

I took a sharp intake of breath. Ash glanced up as I closed the book, and to my embarrassment, tears streamed down my face. Ash’s expression contorted into alarm.

“You’re like me. Why are you crying?” I couldn’t help but choking the next few words out.

“Your intel - it’s wrong. Alaya and Zyon’s child didn’t die. She-” I paused for a second, taking a deep breath and glancing up to see a look of realisation appear on Ash’s face. “She’s me.”