Saturday, March 21, 2015

Life is a Torn Book

Life is a torn book.
It doesn't seem like Goldilocks.
It doesn't seem like Sleeping Beauty with a prince ready to save you.
It does not seem like a fairy tale at all.
It is a book still.


You will find yourself grazing the words peacefully and then suddenly….
There is a tare, a blank page.
You don’t know what to do and while you sit by the tare grow larger and the page feels deeper.
You're scared and lost on your journey.
You want to ask for help, but your afraid of what the world will do to you.


What you don’t realise is that there is always a pen to write with.
There is always more pages to read on, And there is always more tape to fix the broken part of your heart.


You will have options many times, but as humans we choose to ignore the page.
We choose to let the page rip itself apart when we had the option to tape it back together in the first place.


Sometimes we have to move on.
There are times when fire is consuming your world, but using water would only soak the pages.
Sometimes the only options come with consequences, but we forget.
We forget the pain that rips the pages and burns the lives of others.
We want to help them with water, but too much will make them drown.


What we don’t realize, is that we can pat the fire down.
We can dry the pages, and yes it takes time.
Its hard to remember but sometimes the option is so simple….
so simple.


So while some of you sit in your brick houses, laughing at the big bad wolf, remember others who sit in their houses made of stick and straw, counting the seconds left until their blown over.
There are times we will live in both houses.


So remember others who didn't realize there was tape lying there.
Remember those who didn't realize there was a pen, ready to continue writing,
and remember those who were sitting there, who didn't see the hand stretched out, tap them on the shoulder, and pull them up!


Life doesn't seem like a fairy tale, but we can all be heroes.
All you have to do is remember that there is a solution to every problem.
There is always garlic for Dracula.
There is always a silver bullet for the werewolf,
and there is always tape to mend the page back together.

Tell My Story...


My rings should tell my story, swirling the years of growth and drought, etching my tale for the world to read. That is not happening. The surface where the saw bit through decades is now charred, and my voice is choked, even as young feet shuffle past what is left of me toward something better, something new, with concrete and steel. I want to scream out that I was not always this stump, this lifeless remnant of what had once been strong and tall.
I want to once again whisper with the breeze, to tell the story of those two laughing lovers who sat beneath my branches. He had leaned against me as he sat, and she had leaned into him, letting the sunlight that tumbled through my leaves dance on freckled cheeks as she closed those bluest of eyes and allowed his arms to wrap around her. Later, as the rays of the sun dipped below my branches, he took a small blade and pressed the tip through my rough bark, carving four letters set in paris and joined within the border for a heart. I did not mind the discomfort that the scar left, no more than he regretted the indelible mark she would carve into his heart itself, where he hoped to hold her forever. The scar on me fell when I did; I wonder now if those four initials one day became three, or if those two youths would one day become one more.
But I cannot let that story drift do to those who walk past me. That gently carved heart has been replaced with only the blackened char of regret and death.
What treasures I would shower if I could only once more drop the leaves of the tales from years passed. Someone should hold a leaf to the sky and trace the veins that reveal the story of that young girl, pig-tailed and pinkless, who clamored up my lower branches to the highest limbs that would hold her, climbing a ladder seemingly built just for her. I must admit that more than once I leaned my arms toward her, allowing an outstretched hand to pull her up higher, leaving those boys far below. Boys who threw rocks, pine cones, and cruel names, but who would later chase her as high as she would let them.  In my fallen state, I cannot see beyond the horizon of age, and I wonder if she is still climbing, forever fearless, no limbo out of reach, or did she one day fall to earth?
In my leveled state, I cannot see. But, the truth is, I know now I never truly fell. Not when the weevil bored deep within my core, ring by ring, and left me creaking in the Kansas wind. Not when then dropped me from my height, sending me crashing to the grass. Not even when they reduced me with blades and wedges and let flames devour me. No, I still live on. As long as new initials trace the roots to those carved initials or young climbers give life to tiny crawlers, I continue to spread my branches.

Hey, you! Yes you, Skinny. I have been ignoring you since they dropped you into the earth and your roots began intertwining with mine. I see they have staked you upright. That is good. We all need a little guidance, especially when we are young and easily bent by the winds that blow. Grow straight and grow strong. And listen: if one day, small, filthy  hands yank you down, trying to pull some laughing creature up or if some smooth, strong hand presses a steel point into your rough flesh, do not sway away. The scars will be worth it.
              Life Is Like a Dollar.

Life is like a dollar
Sometimes you get rippled up and you want to give up and get a new one
But remember your worth something
In every dollar there's a hidden message
For every person there's a hidden talent
Life is like a dollar
Wasting your money is like wasting your life
Smoking, drugs, and bad decisions
Just like abusing your money
Once you have it all you want to do is just throw it away


                  -Brendan Webb

"Fulfilled Promises" by Amber A. Neighbor




I see so many tears. So much hardship. I look out and see a world of pain, and heartbreak. That was not my purpose. That was not the reason I was placed here. I am here for joy, promise and hope, but so many see me as a loss. So many tears.
I want to help. I want to make life better, but when people look at me, all they see is death. Torture. Stealing of all that is good in the world. When I am an instrument of torture, how do I change my image? Am I supposed to change my image? A man died to change my image, and yet that memory only brings more hate, death and destruction, all in my name, around the world. How can one compete with that?
           I am an image. I am a symbol. I am all that I am supposed to be. Or am I? When people hate and yell and curse at each other, was my purpose fulfilled? Was I not supposed to be a sign to all that a change was coming? Did I not hold that change on my arms, while the nations yelled hate and spread the promise to the world?
           All symbolism changes and it used to create a meaning by whomever chooses, but when did mine become death? What is the meaning of it all? I started as death. I blame Rome for that. Then I became hate. I blame Pontius for that. Then I became a promise that soon was twisted into a promise for domination. I blame the world for that. So many tears.
           But now, how do I change what I see in front of me? How do I make things new? Is it my job? How do I accomplish something everyone hopes, but no one cares to help? I bore hope to heaven and now, I hold the tears of the damned. Does it end?
           Once there was a man who claimed to bring hope. I followed him. I trusted him. I loved him. Then I was used to kill him. So many tears. My life is not what it was supposed to be. This is not what I am supposed to do. Where is the hope? Where is the love? Where is the future? Where is the promise? I am not worthy nor is anyone else here. So many tears.
           Life is tough and life is rough, but where is the joy?
           I see her.
           There is anticipation.
           There is expectation.
           There is peace like a river in her soul.
           She looks up at me. She sees me, but then doesn’t. She see beyond me; above me. She sees Him. She sees Him. What words leave her lips and what love flows from her arms. She lifts up her voice to me, and I send them to the heavens, reminding me from whence my help comes from.
           The meaning of it all. It is more than the laughter and the tears; it is more than the hate and fears of a nation. He is calling and she is running to Him. Her voice calls out in praise and thanksgiving, even as I see tears in her eyes and hear sadness in her breath, purchased with loneliness of youth. But through it all, there is love. Love. The emotion is so strong it sings out of her skin, radiating the thrills and joys that once I held every time a soul came to me. Every time a need was met. She sings a love song for a Savior. She sings to the One above me, the One whom I need and needed me to fulfill the promise. She sings.
           It is well. It is well. It is well with my soul.           

Fear

Fear will take the best of us
Then come back for the rest of us
Its endless hunger is never satisfied
It's closer than a brother
More jealous than a lover
It'll hold you close as it swallows you alive
If you let down your guard
It'll steal your spark
There's no thief like fear

We try to blame jealousy
The weakness of human fallacy
The cruel and shifting winds of circumstance
But insecurities
Are the worst of our own enemies
And they'll rob you blind
Right before your eyes
There's no thief like fear

Grand Father Oak - Short Story

This story is based off one of the many pictures we took around camp in which we were asked to tell the story from the point of view of the object, as if it could speak itself. The picture i decided to use was of a split tree that was broken in half. The picture you will see below this text. We could angle our story in many ways and this was my story that I decided to create.


I am what they used to call, Grand Father Oak.  "They", meaning the traitorous worships of the Indian tribe that live off these lands. What you see before you now is a shred of the power I once contained. Now I am burnt to the core with nothing left. The Indians made me their god, their savior. They did whatever they could to please me. Decorations, offerings, ... sacrifices. I played along and accepted these "gifts". and in the mean time I kept the forest calm. In a sense I do hail over these lands, but alas I only control the forest. They call me a god, but in reality I am just one of many supernatural beings. If I were to be such a god would you not think I could do anything in this world that I may possibly ever desire? As I said, I only hail over the forest itself. Not the humans, or even the disasters caused by the humans, or the accidents made by the humans stupidity. Even though all of this has been stated time and time again, human nature is the same, I tried to prevent this devastation, this destruction, but in the end, human nature prevails to destroy the forest as it always does.

One day, one of the young ones from the tribe visited me and played along my roots. The chiefs son arrived with disgust at the dishonor the young one was bringing to his tribe. He yelled at the boy, dishonoring him and breaking the boy. In the end the boy was slaughtered at the hands of the chiefs son. He called this a "redemption" to his tribe, and how it was all in my name. My name! He has the nerve to sacrifice a boy at my roots and say it was for the good of me. If he could only sense my rage at the time in order to see reason. The tribe however shared the same rage as I did. Only at the time they could not see that one of their own tribe would enact such a heinous crime. They blamed me for the murder by saying I could have done something, maybe even protected the boy. They will never understand how power works, and now they will never get the chance.

The next day, the whole tribe was shooting doubt at my position as a god and how I let their own child die. So I did the only thing within my power I could possibly use to root out the evil within the tribe. I sent the sacred pack of the forest after the chiefs son. The pack, is the guardian wolves that protect this forest. I would see this as justice for the murder. A life for a life right? However the tribe only saw this as another murder. One more life lost at the hands of me. This one they could blame on me as it was my doing, but humans never look at the reason behind a problem, only the problem itself. The chief being in extreme distress called out for faith as I was no longer any such god to them. I killed his son, and to them he was a hero. The pain I have caused by one murder, no matter how justified, caused these events to take place. To this day I regret using murder as a justification for any sort of crime.

The tribe soon stopped decorating me. They never visited or even brought a gift to me. My leaves soon turned pale in the sunlight, and all that was left of me was the dying flowers hanging from my sullen branches. I became just another tree to them among the forest. I could display all the power in the world to show me being more than that, but to them I was nothing more. At the time my fury took over my reason, The tribe needed to be disciplined. Those who are faithless need to be punished. I loathed for the day from where my power could enact the vengeance required to force their faith on me. For the time being, the volcano would suit as a perfect candidate to display my power.

I called on my strength to the point of no return. My limits were exalted to bring down hell upon their evil. I saw this as a justification as the only way to show them how I am the powerful being which should hail over them. Minutes have gone by, and the tribe suspects nothing of it. Then, as if an earthquake is shattering the earths core, the ground trembles violently. The tribe screams, and falls to the ground, some hang desperately to the edges of their houses for support. Before they even sense what is truly happening, The volcano awakens. To this day, I regret the power I have released upon them.

They burned to death within minutes of the release. I laughed at their misery as I finally displayed my power. They should all recognize this now, and now I am not another tree, for I am a god! The few that remained including the chief called me out. I grinned as I knew they would beg for the mercy of their god. Instead they called me the devil. The chief vowed to return to remove the evil of me from the world once and for all. They all left me for a month, until one day he returned.

The volunteers of the chiefs own inquisition surrounded me, as if testing what was left of my power. They thought they could just remove me and be done with all this terror. The chief stood high on a pillar to call out my sins. He listed them off one by one, and then he recalled the boy. The one who was murdered at my roots. The one the tribe cast blame at me for. The one whos blood spilled tainted my roots to the core, corrupting me by the hands of a murder. The chief, after listing these sins, vowed to root out these evils by force... literally. My roots burst upwards casting the soldiers in the air. I was never going to let them blame me for this. The tribe caused this, I was the victim and they come to kill me? One last display of power was all I could emit. To finally show the tribe a lesson. One that I have learned harshly myself.

Lighting surged in all directions in the sky casting a perfect circle across my branches. The soldiers stood reluctantly as if waiting for an order. One surge one lighting was all it took. It arched down upon the earth with all the force in the worlds possession. The lighting was to much for my hallow body to take. It surged through my core and cast on the earth erupting and charring anything left living. I laughed at my victory until I finally took in the damage tole and understood how I am now nothing more that a split tree with nothing left but a voice.

Not a single soul was left alive but me. Every life I had protected so many years ago, now cast away by my very branches. I am a broken embodiment of the devil. The evil displayed at my roots caused this corruption on all that was left pure. I regret this pain that I have caused but now that the tole was taken accounted for, I long for some peace. As I said I am no god, although my corruption made me to believe otherwise, but I am now simply just another tree among the forest. I did strive for a purpose, and now I am less then the forest surrounding me. The tribe won their conquest to destroy me, but I removed their existence in the process. I wish for death, but in the end I deserve all the misery in the world, and to this day I remain but another tree with a story to tell.




Friday, March 20, 2015

HERB LORE Slowly, ever so slowly Julie pushed the heavy oak door open. She was entering forbidden territory and she was thankful once again Grandda oiled the iron hinges on the tall doors regularly. She was well aware from repeated warnings that she was not allowed in the library alone –especially at night. Yet tonight she had given into the soft mind whi spers that called “Come to me. Come to me.” Standing just inside the door, she glanced hurriedly around the cavernous room. It was lit by what seemed to be silvery moon glow, but like all of her kind Julie was well aware of all the moon’s phases. It was the dark of the moon. So what lit the room? Then she found the source. High on the top shelf in the far corner a single tome glowed filling the library with cold silver luminescence. “Could this be the book that even Grandda feared to open?” Julie wondered. Of all the books in the Granda’s mystic collection was this the one most to be avoided? Julie walked hesitantly to the corner and looked up. She thought she heard soft singing urging her to go closer. Maybe she did hear it. Grandda guarded the room’s secrets well. Only the fully initiated could enter freely without his guidance, but even they hesitated to do so. Grabbing the rolling library ladder, she moved close to the corner and began to climb. The singing became louder. She glanced around and leaned toward the book. Then she gasped and pulled the book toward herself. Suddenly, she was standing on the library’s marble floor without any idea how she had arrived there. She walked quickly to the door and slipped out closing the portal behind her. Minutes later in her room snuggled in her comfy bed, she opened the book. Convinced it would tell her secrets of the loupe garou, which was her clan, the title disappointed her. It sounded a bit boring. What was so secret about a book titled Herb Lore: the magical properties of growing things. Book II The Dark Side, Still she began to read, but her eyes began to droop. She slept. The humming vines began to grow. Dawn came as always with a rosy brightness edged with the coming gold of true sunlight. Julie woke slowly as was her habit to turn to the window to greet the dawn, but she could not move. Looking down she found her body wrapped in greenery that held her tightly to the mattress. She fought the vines to free herself but with each move to the right or left the tendrils curled tighter. She wanted to call for help but she stopped herself remembering that she had broken her Granda’s rules. She stopped struggling and thought for a moment. The vines had encased her legs in a tube of green; maybe she could just back out of the tube. She put her back against the wall and pushed. She gained some freedom. She continued to pull her legs toward her chest, gaining some freedom with each push. Finally she was free of the vines and just then the doors to her room were flung open. In the doorway stood her grandfather. Grandda was majestic. Unbent by his years, he filled the doorway not only with his body but with the power he possessed. Saying nothing he went to the bed and with a wave withered the vines. Still silent he took the book from her bed and strode from the room. Just outside her door, he turned. Looking at her steadily he said a single word, “Come.” Julie followed him down the hall. His robes swirled and small bits of golden and silver dust lit by the sun streaming in the multi-paned windows danced among the folds of deep navy. Not once did he turn to see if she was there, for he knew she was. No one least, of all a relative defied the grand alchemist, chief of all the clans. Head down watching the stone floor as she followed thoughts ran through her head. Most were not happy. She knew that she was his only grandchild, but she also knew that her mother’s love of a loup garou had not pleased her father. She also knew that the mark of the wolf on her thigh at birth had displeased her grandfather even more as werewolves were considered too unstable to rule. Her mother’s death within days of her birth and her father’s came soon after as her clan’s mates rarely survived when one passed had again marked her as unlucky. Now at fourteen, surrounded as she was by magical talent at her grandfather’s court, she had yet to shift form or show any talent for sorcery. She knew the man she followed despaired that she would ever be able to follow him as his heir. The knowledge of all this was a constant theme in her life. They reached the doors of the library. Huge and oaken they were not easily opened. She stopped before them and suddenly wondered how she had pushed them open so easily last night even though they were well oiled. Her grandfather stood to one side and looked at her. “Go in” he commanded. Julie looked at him and hesitated but the fierceness of his eyes caused her to move forward and push the doors. They swung open effortlessly. Her grandfather’s “Ahem” caused her to hurry through to the library as he followed. He strode to the table before the window and turned to face her so the sunlight haloed his entire body with gold. A long regal finger pointed at a spot before him. Julie went to the indicated space and stood facing the ruler of the magic in her world as well as her grandfather. Afraid but not about to show her fear she stood in place and faced him squarely eyes to eyes. “Julietta,” he intoned the vibrations of his voice rocked her every cell. His use of her full name meant whatever came next would affect her life forever. She crossed her fingers behind her back and stared at him. “Juiletta, uncross your fingers. Put the book back in its place.” She stepped forward to take the book. “No! Think it back, and before you ask, yes this is a test.” “ Think it back?” “ How did you get it if you did not think of it to bring it to you?” “Something sang to me and I followed. It led here and I saw the light up there. I went up the ladder to the singing and then I was on the floor with the book.” “ So you were called to it?” “ I guess you might say that.” Grandda put both hands on the desk and leaned toward Julie. “This “ he said slowly, stonily “ is an entirely different matter. I had thought your powers were merely going to bloom. This however means you have been called to the magic. This means you will, as your mother did, possess great power. I should have known when I saw you come out of the lullaby vine without a touch of green and without a struggle.” “ I just came out the only way there was to come out, Grandda. Trying to throw them off bound me tighter so I slid from them. Anyone with half a brain would do that.” “ No, child. Most would let fear take over and struggle. The vines would bind them down, sing them to sleep and then take root as their victim slept.” He turned to the window. “ Called to it, she says. Anyone would do it she says. HMMMM!!!” he mused. Rubbing his chin he turned to look at the small cinnamon haired green-eyed person his daughter had left him to raise nearly sixteen years ago. Well, he had fed her, sheltered her, watched her and yes, loved her from afar. He had not taught her as he should have, had not told her of her mother’s power, had not prepared her for what might be her fate all because of her father. Even today he wondered if one day soon at the full moon her body would lengthen and race in the woods with her kinsmen, the weres. They were not an evil clan, but they were erratic and could become feral in the worse sense of the word. Still the calling to her was not a thing to ignore. Most blessed with magic woke to their talent, but the truly powerful with magic were called to it. “Well, child. This does indeed change things. But first send the book home. Tell the book to return. You have the power.” “How do I do that?” “Simply, tell it to return.” “O, well then,” Julie hesitated.” Book return.” Nothing happened. Julie looked at her grandfather and blinked. “No, Child. Use its name. Names are power.” “ Herb Lore return.” The girl whispered. “ With authority child. Sound as if you know it will obey.” Her grandfather commanded. Mimicking his tone and pacing, Julie straightened her shoulders, put her head back and with a trembling forefinger pointed at the book. The words Herb Lore return formed in her mind, but before she could utter them the book flew from the table to the empty slot in the shelves above them. “ Great saturnalia!” the epithet came out of her grandfather’s mouth as an awed whisper. Chapter 2 Silence reigned in the hall until her Grandda sitting in his oaken chair covered with carved dragons waved her from the room. She knew the gesture as he had dismissed her with it many times before. Julie turned to go but as she reached the door his voice stopped her. " No classes today girl. I must think what to do with you. Clearly you need training but not the normal routine, and as yet I am not sure of what we should do with you." Julie left the library and wandered into the sunlit hall. Her friends were all in classes but she was not to go there. Simple spells and potable potions were not for her at least for today. She wondered if she would ever be a simple student again. Though Grandda had given no hint, she rather thought she would not. She could go to her room but Magwich her old nurse would think she was ill and dose her with foul tasting herbal tisanes. She left the hall and once outside she ran up the curving stairs of the west turret to the mews. She entered the dusty, dim and aromatic room silently and was greeting by a whirring of wings being spread. Touching each hooded head as she walked to the broad windowsill across the room, she quieted the tethered falcons. Many people avoided the roost of their hunting companions to the care of the falconer Tobit, but she had learned long ago the falcons were the best listeners. She sat on the sill, pulled her knees to her chest and dropped her head in deep thought. Tobit held the hounds in check when he spied the small figure huddled in the mews window. Turning he re-kenneled his best hunters as they howled in protest. He climbed the turret stairs and entered the mews. Without breaking the silence he began small daily chores waiting for Julie to notice him. Curiosity consumed him, but he knew he could wait. He had not seen the girl so quiet in all the years he had known her. He began to consider the various problems she could be facing. Love problems__ that would be a first. Without wishing to acknowledge his fear, he began to search her bones for a lengthening, especially of the spine. No, he saw none. Magic; maybe her magic had left her. He recalled when he realized he possessed only minor talent and that was weakening. Training for magic levels was over but he was displaced with no family ties strong enough to return to after ten years away from his farm home. Luckily his skill with hounds and falcons had assured him a place in the place of the adepts, and he was grateful to remain in the world he had come to think of as home. Somehow he knew this would not be Julie's problem; not with her lineage. "Tobit," Julie's voice broke his reverie. " Tobit something has happened." and she recounted the book, the vines and her grandfather's reaction. " It will change my world , Tobit." " Yes, ---doubt that not, little one. Not however in a bad way, I am thinking." " Tobit-- You knew my father. What if some new moon I make the change? Magic and were mixed can that be a good thing ever? Only three were with magic are recorded. One had no true magic and neither of the others had true power over the magic. One of those turned feral and the clan had to cleanse the pack of his presence. What if I have power equal to mother's and turn feral?" Fear filled her voice. " Child, Luther, your father, though a were never turned feral. Nary a human or witch did he harm. No thing about him was wild and feral." " But wolves are not stable?" tears fell and the small body trembled with emotion. " Well no need to worry that rabbit until it rears its head from the warren, Julie. Worry your head and heart about using your magic for good. The rest will be dealt with if the need arises. I'll no desert you. " Julie brushed the man's bearded cheek with a kiss as she stood. Drying her eyes on her tunic sleeve, she went to the door. "Do no harm; so mote it be", and she left. Dawn the next day seemed to come earlier than it should or perhaps Julie had awakened early to begin the new life her grandfather had hinted at in the library. She recalled his words telling her to go enjoy the day, as on the morrow he would decide how to proceed with her training. Watching the dawn creep over the Stag horn Mountains that surrounded her valley home, Julie pondered what her new life would be. Her reverie was broken by a knock on her door. She called out to the visitor ” Enter”, and she turned to meet whomever her grandfather had sent as his messenger. It was Magwich, her old nurse, who entered with her arms full of robes. Julie looked at the robes and blanched. They were the deep maroon of senior students. “ Magwich? Why are you here? Whose robes?” “ To serve you and,” “ But only senior students can have servants?” Julie interrupted. “ The robes are yours.” Magwich walked to the closet and began to hang the robes and to take down the ones that were there. “ But I just became a junior, how can those robes be mine?” “ Master Voltaire, your grandfather, has sent the robes to you. What it means? I don’t know and I am not going to ask him. “ The robes were hung and the old ones neatly folded to pass on before Magwich spoke again. “So child I know you are not to go to class yet, but I’d not have you sit in bed all day.” “No I think not either. What can I do until Grandda? Decides things for me. I can not just wander the halls while others are in class.” Magwich looked as if she might have some ideas but whatever she wanted to say was silenced by a knock on the door. It did not open but a silver folder slid beneath the Sturdy wood and lay there. It glistened as if lit by an inner light. Julie bent to take it up. “ Child is aware. Things given with no name can be harmful.” “Nonsense. The palace and grounds are heavily warded. What harm can there be?” Julie stood with the folder in her hand. That said she opened the folder. “Not all harms are physical; some would wound the mind or the heart.” Magwich warned. The folder began to pulse with lights of different colors until the walls of the room were lit by a display that rivaling the Northern Lights. Magwich made a move to take the folder, but Julie stepped back and opened it. It was empty, Almost immediately writing began to appear as if written as she read. You are to appear before the Council of Magical Instruction At the hour of three on this day to learn of their decision About your further instruction at this school due to the incidence of the book. Wilfrius, the wild Council chair wizard. So Granda had spoken to the council, which meant even though he was headmaster, he had felt the need to involve others. Now she definitely had something to worry about until later in the day. Chapter Three Voltaire looked at the panel of adept sorcerers round the table and hoped he had been right in inviting their input about Juiletta. Frankly, her newly discovered magic placed her high on the list to be become, as he was a multihued adept and his heir. While his post was not truly hereditary, his family had held the position unchallenged for nearly five hundred years or the lifetime of four sorcerers and he wanted his bloodline to continue to do so if their magic made them eligible. Juiletta had that, but the were blood in her veins was his concern. He had placed his concerns on the table to the sorcerers, and now they had summoned the child to the council without a hint as to their decision. Their actions worried him. A hesitant tap at the door signaled the arrival of the topic of the panel’s deliberation. Wilfrius never one to hide his talents glanced at the door and it swung open. Juiletta entered hesitantly at first but glancing at her grandsire she straightened her spine and forced her family pride to every pore of her body so none could sense the internal fear that her talent and mixed blood would send her away form the only home she could recall. Reaching the center of the room, she turned and faced the panel of adepts. Every color in the rainbow of adepts sat in a semi-circle before her She recognized the green robes of her potions instructor, Emeraldis and the mink brown robes of the herbalist. Her grandda sat in his deep blue starlit robe proclaiming his adept status in more than one area of magic. He should by rights be the center seat as he was the chief of all magic workers but he sat to the left of Wilfrius signaling to all that he had removed himself from being the final arbitrator. Juiletta knew now he would aid her but not save her by his power alone. She must hold her own. “Child,” Emeraldis’s soft voice broke into Julietta’s thoughts. “Child, Voltaire has informed of us that your magic has bloomed and that it indeed came to you rather than you learning in the academy. What say you to that?” “Perhaps I should not have answered the call of the book but in truth I could not deny it. Now I wonder what being called by magic will mean to my life and my future at the academy?” Wifrius leaned forward. “The magic is of concern as it means you will know without learning. Your training will not include classes of potions and spellbinding as these will be within you but will need be classes of focus, testing for areas of adept power and ethics. Many classes in ethics. Our concern is your were blood. Do you understand that is why this panel was called, child?” “Yes, I know that my father’s blood is seen as a taint by many,” She watched several heads nod in agreement and went on.” But my father never went feral though he did shift shapes at the full moon. His studies here due to his magic and his love for my mother instilled a heavy ethical code in him. With the guidance of the adept council, my grandfather and life here it is my hope to control the were within me.” She glanced at her grandfather and saw in his eyes a gleam of pride. Perhaps she had answered well. Several adepts were conferring quietly and nodding their heads in her direction. She stood waiting glad for once long robes were the uniform as her shaking knees were not visible. Andar, the herbalist’s deep voice broke into her thoughts. “ Julietta, the were in you may not respond to training and begin to go feral. If this happens how do you think you will react?” Julietta thought about the question. What would she do? Finally she framed her reply. “ I have not yet shifted into a were form. It may be that I never will as the council knows. But if the shift happens, my schooling here and even perhaps my magic will prevent a feral turn. Should they not do so I would come before the council for their judgment.” She uncrossed her fingers behind her back for in a feral state who knew what she would do. It had been an inane question and she felt her answer matched. Wilfrius turned to her grandfather. ”Voltaire, take her to the antechamber while we decide.” The blue robes swirled sprinkling glittering dust as her grandfather rose and walked towards her. Without a word he passed her and out the doors of the chamber. He expected her to follow and she did. The silence remained unbroken as he seated himself in a chair, and she began to pace. “Sit Julie. Pacing will not help. They can not take your magic but they fear the were and so they have to decide how to guide one whose magic is indeed already probably stonger than theirs if unfocused in order to allow it to control the were blood.” She sat. Her body stilled but the thoughts stirred her soul and her blood. She could feel every doubt the council felt as they were hers also, but to lose the school and the right to learn tore at the very core of her being. She lifted her hand to wipe a tear and the chair across the room rose in the air and then dropped loudly against the stone floor when she returned it to her lap. Julie jumped. “ That, my dear, is why you need focus. Control your emotions and control the wild magic.” Julie stared at her grandfather as he settled in for a nap. Control was easy for him; he had years to master it but she was nervous and new to the powers awakening within her. Still she sat and to distract herself from her worry she began to repeat the declension of all the Latin verbs she knew. She hated declension and rarely practiced to the despair of Justus Caesura, her teacher. This would do her some good in more than one way. She had just reached her fortieth noun when the doors to the chamber swung open and Emeraldis walked over to her. Tapping Voltaire on the shoulder , she motioned for them to follow her in. Julietta scanned the adepts. Most smiled, one or two looked reticent or wary and one or two more looked somewhat hostile. Voltaire regained his chair and she stood once agin in front of Wilfrius whose face she could not read. “Julietta,your family has longed served magic and for the majority of the time there was no taint on the bloodline. Now that is no longer true.” Wifrius was at his most solemn and she feared the worst from his words and tone. “ In spite of that you have been called by magic a true gift in our world. It means you are most likely a multiadept as is your grandsire and as was your mother. Talent of this sort cannot be denied guidance. Therefore Julietta, you will remain at the academy to study as one of the five special students who are taught by the adept council. Should your were blood begin to rule you in a feral way the council will need to act as it does in all such cases. Is that understood?” “Yes.” “Then go to your room and move your belongings to the South tower. The Sixth floor is yours and tonight as the youngest you will serve the adept table at supper.” Chapter Four Coming to the south tower Julie opened the door and with some effort lifted her trunk through it. Turning she found several apprentice sorcerers and witches appraising her progress. She gathered from the snickers she had not made much of an impression. “ Where are the stairs?” she asked the group. “Down the hall and to the left.” replied the red headed sorcerer leaning on the wall near the hall door.”But why need you the stairs? A mage of your skills, one who was called, need only to use wish magic to move it to your room”. Sarcasm dripped in every word he spoke. Julie’s temper rose and yet, she thought well it might be true. I’ll try it she decided. Recalling how she had sent the book to the shelf, she pictured the door to her room on the sixth floor as all doors looked, gathered her thoughts, focused and then in a commanding tone spoke.” To my room. trunk.” Surprising herself as well as the others in the room, the trunk rose from the floor and floated down the hall. “ If she was really good, it would not have had to go down the hall It would have just been translated.” The comment came from the blond boy near the hall doorway. “Hush Jael. You are just jealous that the newcomer can do what only you have mastered so far and at a younger age. Welcome Juliette. I am Shanna. Let me show you the way to your room. ”Shanna walked over to Julie and tapped her shoulder as she walked to the hallway beckoning Julie to follow. The elfin redhead talked as she walked. “ Do not mind Jael. He has worked hard for the seat of first apprentice. Magic does not come easy for him but no one can master it more thoroughly than he. None of us here have been called magic as you have been. This will not be easy for him to accept but once he does there is no more loyal friend. Watch the third stair; it leans forward.” Here she stopped her chatter and waited for Julie to come up to the step with her. The steps were narrow and steep winding in toward the wall so a descending defender had the advantage in swordplay. Because Julie had never gone up or down them before, all talking stopped until exhausted they came to the sixth level. There was only one room at this level. It was large but plain. There were two windows a hearth, a small garderrobe and a bed. Her trunk sat near the bed. “It’s plain but it is yours and no sharing.” Sahnna turned to leave. “Oh you have twenty minutes until you have to serve the meal, so do not get too busy doing something. Ergret does not like late servers.” At the top of the stairs, Shanna stopped and giggling said, “You might try this with the stairs.” She ran her hand from head to toe, mumbled some words and disappeared. Leaving her laughter echoing in the air of the room. Julie pondered her reactions to Shanna’s action. Anger would gain her nothing and besides she did not believe the girl had done it except as a jest. Wonderment might describe her reaction better and in fact she wondered how it was done. Suddenly the gong signaling coming meal broke her thoughts. Could she make herself transport to the scullery as she had moved the book and her trunk? Stilling her mind, she concentrated all her strengths and mentally formed the command, Julie to the scullery now. The world went black. CHAPTER 5 THWACK! The sound of wood hitting wood forced Julie’s eyes open. Before her a woman hovered in front of the scullery door as she beat on it with a large wooden ladle. Hovered was the truth as Julie realized the woman’s feet nearly invisible under her voluminous skirts were not touching the cold stone floor Julie was kneeling on. “Well,girl, get off those knees and follow me.” She spun toward the scullery calling over her shoulder.” And you need to plan your landings better.” Julie pulled herself erect and followed the woman who had small wings fluttering from her back. Ergret was a fairy. Julie shook her head in disbelief. In her awe she nearly ran the plump woman over. “Watch your step girl. One cannot be clumsy when serving.” “But I have never seen a” Julie stopped herself in embarrassment. “ A fairy, Well, get over it. We exist just as you witches do!” Julie followed the fluttering wings into the kitchen to find large trays of food on long tables. Her mouth formed an “O” as she stuttered,” I have to do all that by myself.” “ No, of course not. The scamp who is to work with you is….” “ Not late.” Jael defended himself as he popped in with a soft click. Julie thought Just my luck but in fact the meal went well. Jael did his share and helped her when she needed it. After the meal was served, she shared a meal with him before the cooking fire he felt in charge. Stirring her stew to cool she wondered how to ask him a question just as he broke in. “ You and I will serve supper this fortnight so let me tell you do not be late. Ergret will do some fairy trick to make you sorry you were late. Once was enough for me. But considering who your grandfather is maybe?” “Maybe nothing. He has never and I mean never cut me a shortcut or a privilege. I earn my colors the way you do.” “Explain your jump from black to maroon in a day then?”. He countered in a snarky tone. “ I had a call in the night. I followed it. Granda found out and put it to the council. Not one word did he say in defense of me. Wilfrius and the council decided to send me here despite being half.” “ Half were. Well you are not alone so not so special after all . My father was also a were and there others.” “ half were and magic are supposedly not a mix. The council was worried about me.” “That is because you were called to the magic,” he stopped at her gasp. “There are no secrets or very few within these walls and especially when it is your family. You do know you are the heir to your granddad to be the mage: so your stability has to be carefully watched, Me, not so much as my magic is but a flicker that has to be nurtured to a flame.” “ But you have had years of training while my magic slept, and my granda worried I would never have any, Now I have powers I cannot control and must learn quickly.” “More quickly than you may wish. Something is brewing here and it is nothing good. In fact tomorrow there is a new class starting and bth of us are on the list.” “A class for what?” “That is one secret no one has uncovered yet.” Chapter 8 Early the next morning Julietta stood in front of a classroom door reading the list of names. Jael. Shanna, and herself were listed plus two others, Camus and Hart. Only five names she wondered about that but then remembered the council saying only five to be taught by the adepts who were the best in the their special talents. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and found a seat on the middle bench. Within minutes Shanna joined her followed by Jael who came in with a boy who could only be described as round. His face was round and he was round. Well, not totally round, he stood a bit taller than his waist measured. His curls were golden and his skin was rose petal pink and Julietta immediately thought of cherubs until she saw the impish gleam in his sea blue eyes. Bouncing to the seat behind Shanna, the round boy announced,” I am Camus.” Even seated he was moving constantly moving. Twisting to look behind twitching his fingers, bobbing his head to internal music and rocking back and forth, he distracted Shanna and Julietta from their thoughts. Finally Jael put a hand on Camus’ shoulder and the boy settled down. At that moment the door opened and a harried student still fastening his maroon cape at the shoulders ran in to the room and dropped on the bench with Jael and Camus. “ Overslept up too late trying to learn a spell and then found out didn’t need to, moved to this class. Wonder why?” the words tumbled out rushing over each other like water tumbling over rocks. “Hart , my name is Hart. No teacher yet I see……. So I am not tardy. Good start that. I am often tardy, Get busy with something and for get the time. Did I say my name is Hart?” “Yes, you did” the others chorused. “ Good then.” Hart pulled out a book and fell silent. The others followed his example. Each of them wondered why they were in the group of five. Each wondered why the others were here. They sat, wondered and waited. After what seemed to be hours but was only part of one hour, the door burst open and in walked a woman with a pink tornado of curls floating around her , huge round lens glasses in bright red and a neon green dress under the blue velvet robes of a high adept. Shw walked to the front of the room and sat on the desk facing the five students. “ Well, you are all here on time, and I am late. Good you passed your first test. You exhibit patience—a necessary trait for this class.” She announced in a low somewhat husky voice. The students sat dumbfounded as no one witch or warlock dressed like that. She went on “ My name is Empabeck Adrews and I am here to form an elite group because we are in dire need of a, a trained squad for protection. From what, you will learn later. Now all you need to know is that you have been selected because each of you possess a skill that is needed.” The five looked at each other and then each of them thought about themselves and what useful skill they might possess. Protection? Why did their golden valley of Nalsad need to be protected? The crack of wand on the desk broke their ponderings. “Squiddley Piddley!! Let’s get to it. I know why you were chosen. Now tell me why you think you were selected. Jael?” “Me? I am a were. Could that be it? I am also a bit foolhardy. Is that a talent?” “ Close but not quite on the wand tip. Think, what do you shift too?” “ Leopard and it is a rare were form.” “ Good. Leopards move silently and can not be seen in the dark. Foolhardy can be courage as it denies the fear many feel. Think on the uses for those.” “Hart , your turn. Hart come back to us. What talent do you have?” “ I er I daydream. Well, it could be a talent.” Hart replied glancing at the other four. “ Right on the first try. Day dreamers are planners and now you maybe able to actually see those dreams for real. “Camus,you are next.” “ No talent really—just like to make things move. Really, I just like to make things.” “ And so when an inventive way to something is needed, we need you.” Camus sat back smiling as if this was the first time he had been given a compliment. “ Shanna, shift for us.” “ I‘d rather not.” “ But your wee shift is a talent. So shift please show us.” Shanna shook and trembled as her body grew smaller, pointed nose and rounded ears and long whiskers emerged. Then with a final shiver a small mouse sat where Shanna had stood. “ A mouse can creep into spaces and is rarely seen. So Shanna you can spy.” With a snap Shanna regained her human form.” I never saw a use for my were form; after all what good were mice. A spy.” Julietta broke in. “ But why me? I have not yet taken awere form and my magic is forming without benefit of training. It is just there and I can use but not understand it.” “ That is why we want you. You were called to magic. You will use it without effort or true control when needed and we are here to help you get some control. You are near a shift, I sense it; but not the form. It will happen soon when something calls to it. When it happens, we will find a use for it.” Silence took over the classroom. Neither the five or the teacher spoke as she paced round and round the desk. Minutes hour long minutes passed. A rap of the wand on the desk broke the stillness with a thunder like clap of sound.Empak Andrews pulled herself to her full height and made eye contact with each of the five. “ Balls and squalls, tis a hard place I find meself. I am to instruct you as I see fit to train you to proect and yesiree bob to defend Druids Henge, but the question is how much do you kneed to know about what faces you?” She began the pacing once again muttering to herself with odd bits of balls and squalls and “squiddely piddley” said loud enough for all to hear. With an exclamation of “So mote it be”, she faced the class, leaned forward, and drew all eyes to her. “I have decided and let the fate of the decision fall on me to tell you the entire history of Druid’s Henge and the mess we are now in. I have been warned tis not a thing you need to know, but I ken you must know it to defend it well.” With that ominous pronouncement, she began to pace again while the five sat in silence stunned by her actions. “Once years ago---thousands really all groups lived in harmony if not in total peace. Weres, witches, warlocks, elves, gnomes, fairies, demons respected each others culture and there were few if any clashes. Evil born in the darkness of the were world began to grow, but it was not were nor of any group. Now we believe it was engendered by those who desired power above all. It took form and drew members from all the beings to its service. Called itself Wortwen, it did and for years its evil seeped into and destroyed the peace. Each clash among groups enhanced his power. Weres that heeded his call no longer morphed into true animals but into monstrous animals composed of several species, witches and warlocks forgot the words so harm none and used their magic for dark deeds, Elves used their power of glamour to cause humans harm and so it went.” “ But they fought back?” Jael interrupted. “Of course, but to not much avail. Then several hundred years ago, the witches and warlocks locked horns with Wortwen. The battle was thunderous and ended in a tie of sorts. Wortwen and his minions were diminished and slunk off. The remaining witches and warlocks came to this valley between the glass and gold mountains and founded Druid’s Henge. They welcomed the humans who wished to come and have lived in peace ever since.” “ Until now.”Juiletta whispered. “ Until recently anyway gal. Odds bodds, ye have quick insight. Until recently when the council became aware of unrest outside the boundaries of the henge. So we must prepare.” “ But were only five” Shanna interjected. ”Only five who are not fully formed.” “Aye wee one, that is my task to form you, to create powerful mages with special gifts to help us defend our home. Oh you will have help. Weres and fairies will join us but you will lead in days to come. Go now. Tomorrow we begin.”