Where Spirits Dwell

Jiordano stood there, mouth agape, as he stared at the magnificent creature. He had never met, or even heard of, anything like it. She held a commanding air about her, yet at the same time, a peaceful, even melancholic aura seemed to envelop her.

He spared a moment to shoot a glance at Skylar. What he saw, made him more nervous than anything else. She had bowed her head in deference, yet occasional tremors seemed to wrack her small frame. She was scared, and in turn, that emotion transferred to him. What he already knew now became magnified; he must be respectful, this was a being that had been around for a lot longer than he, or even his kind, had and that alone demanded respect.

Once again, the icy, piercing gaze swept over him, then it spoke.

“Be calm, My Child. I mean no harm, only a desire to impart my knowledge. Given to me through Sight, foresee predestined events.”

Then she turned towards Skylar, “Come now, Spirit One, you know not to fear me. Your deference is unneeded. However, your ward shall have need of my words. What say you?”
He saw Skylar struggle with Neviah’s words. She took a deep breath and responded, “I only give deference where it is due. We accept any wisdom you have to impart.”

Jiordano knew how serious the situation must be if Skylar was speaking like this. However, he had mistaken her fear, as it was simple awe. He didn’t have time to continue his train of thought as the Monster began to speak again. He also felt Skylar’s voice, whispered words in his head,

“Listen carefully to her, her words are important, the sheer fact that she brought us here to meet you means that something big is involved. Remembering what she says could be the very difference between life, and death.”

He gave a slight nod to show he understood, then focused in on the woman’s words, “You are different… a descendant of your ancestors, yet nothing like them. You shall have power, the power to shape the very events of this land. Yet destiny comes with cost. Betrayal will be as common as water. Your allies, ever changing, allegiance as stable as the wind. Trust will be a rare wine, to be tasted and savored as you will have few times to drink again. Yet those who retrieve this treasured gift will either save you, or destroy you.”

As she spoke her words seemed to fade, as did the glade they were in, beginning to merge back into the forest, its very existence a memory, a question. Yet he continued to listen, until all was forced to silence. A few whispered words still seemed to reach him.

“The very gods will know your name. Some will Seek what you possess. Give yourself to the hands of fate, for they will not stop moving. Trust few, save many. Be true.”

Then nothing but the slight creek of the woods met their ears. The mystical clearing, and its inhabitant, all but a memory.