The first part of Chapter One
Mar. 7th, 2005 09:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
brightrosefoxI know I posted the beginnings of the first chapter before, but they've been recently edited. And I feel like needing criticism, I guess.
I don't know why, but the more I read these first few scenes -- the first I wrote here -- the more I cringe. Don't like it all as much as I used to. Maybe it's because they were written when I was nineteen and innocent?
Just for a moment, the world stopped. The stars held their breath. The sky shivered. The elements waited. Nothing stirred.
Through tangled synapses, neurons, and dark pathways carved with genetic precision, something moved. A flicker of fire. A breath of air. A drop of water. A tremor of earth.
One mother lost her breath. One child found hers.
The cycle began.
August 4th, 2316.
The woods were quiet, sunlight filtering through green canopy and melting into rock and water. Crouched between two gnarled trees, she balanced her hands on her thighs and listened. Birds warbled above her head in curious echoes; there was the occasional rustle of grass and leaves. The smell of water and woods mixed thickly with the covering veil of sunlight.
A soft, lulling throb spread across her temples, circling around behind her head. She closed her eyes. She had gotten fairly used to the headaches, and with them the increasingly clear visions, even if she had yet to figure out why and what they were. It was incredibly normal now, this abrupt shifting of realities, this stirring aura of gentle warning. Three years, and so far nothing terrible had happened.
They began faintly. She could make out the fleeting things she'd dreamed about before…the river, the half-split moon of black and white, the burst of fire. The sky. She felt her muscles go limp, her eyelids drop.
A panoramic burst shafted across the blackness, and she could see the edge of a harsh glow and a sharp tongue of fire.
She could smell blood. She felt so cold. It was snowing, and it was so cold…
She inched forward, hands digging into the dirt and snow. A shaft of pain blazed up the back of her left leg.
This isn't happening. . .
Fire crackled from somewhere behind her. A wave of nausea caught in her throat. Blood. . .
Her hair hung in clumps around her face, and she could hardly tell if the dark red color was her own auburn or drying blood. Her side throbbed, and she inched forward, aching with pain, hunger, and desperation.
No. . .
A sweet musk filled her nose and she inhaled. Felt the brief warmth of matted fur and rough tongue as something nuzzled the side of her face.
Can't go on. . .I'm sorry. . .
An urgent tug, a soft growl. She braced herself, pushing up with her hands; biting back the scream that threatened to burst when fire seared up her body. Something had happened. . .she was hurt. . .she needed help. . .
Fire.
Flames licked the sky, but now they were a source of light and warmth.
Air.
A gentle breeze brushed her face, carrying the smell of blood away.
Earth.
Soil was soft underneath her, and brought the smell of green.
Water.
A stream whispered just ahead, promising cleansing safety.
With a low moan, she reached out and gripped the gray scruff that filled her peripheral vision. Gratefully she let herself be pulled through fire and air, over earth, toward water. . .
A shift in vision, scenes blurring together. A tiny shop. . .smell of wood and incense. Wind chimes. Soft melody. She looked through the window, could see a woman with white hair, and things on the walls. There was a sudden flash of fire in her head.
I know this place. . .
"Dana?"
A warm hand touched her back, between the shoulder blades. Her eyes flew open and she jerked with a gasp.
"Easy! It’s just me."
She relaxed, but her hands trembled.
"You okay?" Kara asked.
Dana stood slowly and nodded, brushing smooth hair from her face. Smooth, not soaked in blood and dirt. . . "I guess I tranced."
The black-haired girl slid an arm around her. "It'll happen a lot. Don’t worry. We'll work on it."
"Work on what?"
“Your trances,” Kara said. "I mean, I learned to do it awake, and you're probably stronger."
Dana nodded again. "Dreamwalking. Visionwalking."
"Right," Kara said as they began to walk out of the woods. "We see things better than most psychics anyway."
The wind was starting to pick up. Dana lightly stepped over a fallen branch and pushed her hair away from her face again. "That might explain the dreams."
"What kind?"
Dana glanced at her. "Strange ones," she ventured. "Visions. . .a lot of weird images, things. . ."
Kara paused, turned to her. With light filtering at her back, her wavy hair was a black halo and her pale blue eyes were faceted crystals. "Like what?"
Dana shrugged and then shuddered. "Not. . .not like any premonitions; more like. . .traveling to someplace I've never been before and knowing just what was there."
Kara frowned. "Dana, you're shaking."
"I know. I can't help it, I just. . ."
"Tell me what you saw." Kara took her by the shoulders. "Come on."
Slowly, her voice also shaking, Dana recounted the place, the images; the smell of death and the feeling of hope. "It did scare me," she murmured. "I haven't had dreams like that in years."
Kara nodded slowly.
"I'm guessing you have visions like that too," Dana said.
"Yeah. We all get them. Ian, Alex, me. . .you. . ."
Drawing in a slow breath, Dana combed her hair with her fingers and looked at the auburn strands that clung to them. The vision was starting to fade now; she could barely remember anything but snow. "I don't even know what we are," she muttered. "You'd think that after two hundred years people would figure it out."
The other girl shrugged. "Two hundred years ago, most people didn't know."
They moved toward the main path and out of the woods. Dana could barely make out constellations flickering like ghosts on the horizon. The sun was just starting to set.
Are we human? she thought. That’s the main thing. I feel human —- I mean, I know I've been alive for twenty-one years, I grew up human. . .but what’s the part that isn't human? We're definitely more than the average psionic.
"Are we witches?" she asked softly, to both the sky and her friend.
Kara’s voice was equally soft. "Some people might call us that. Most people just say we're more psychic than most people. And let's face it, everyone's been at least somewhat psychic for the last few hundred years. Any better?"
"A little."
"We'll look into it. C'mon. I promised Ian and Alex we'd meet them."
"Promises, promises," Dana grinned. "Where are we going?"
"Their place. It's easier." The lot where Kara had parked was coming up. Dana watched cars flash by, inches from the ground. The trees whispered in the passing wake.
July 16th, 2310.
He and his brother were eighteen today, and neither of them were supposed to be alive.
They had been on the run for over an hour, but the stuff of dreams ignored things like time and space. The air behind them tore in thirds, like fabric rendered by claws. Low, eerie howling danced in his ears. Inside he turned cold. They hadn't given up yet. They probably weren’t going to.
The boys burst onto an empty street leading to a cemetery, then hit the entryway and vaulted over the black iron fence. The cemetery was silent except for the wind. It struck him how desolate such places could be as he hit the damp grass, checked to make sure his brother was following, kept going.
It was after midnight, and the moon was high. He could sense the shadows keeping pace with the two of them. The hair on the back of his neck was standing up.
The sky was the color of ink. Heat lightning flashed across the graves that lay all around them; flashed across the creatures forming from the shadows several yards behind them. Wide jaws gaped and teeth flashed. Limbs stretched out, flexing claws. He glanced behind him, cursed violently, and prayed to whatever small gods were watching that the creatures wouldn't become substantial enough to inflict physical damage. Psychic wounds, he could deal with. Being ripped apart by very real claws was another matter. He didn't stop running until he saw the other end of the graveyard, and urged his brother on, both stopping short just outside the exit gates.
His brother bent forward with his hands on his knees, panting. His eyes were golden brown fire. His mind crackled. His entire body raged. Ian gulped in air, touching his brother's arm with two fingers.
"Don't, Alex. That just encourages them."
"What, me wanting to rip the fuck out of them?" Alex glared, chest still heaving. "Damn it, Ian, stop being so placid! You’re supposed to be dead, you know."
"Yeah, well, I'm not. You want to get out of here on two legs? Keep moving. Besides, it's only been three days."
"Yeah. I got a car. You spent our birthday waiting in a graveyard. In fact, I think it was this one. How coincidental."
Tossing his hair back from his face, Ian glanced up, toward the cemetery, and saw the darkness gathering. He narrowed his eyes. Alex took the hint. Ian whirled and took off again, long legs pumping, Alex at his side. Ian looked at Alex and grinned. "I'm good at cheating death, little bro."
"Call me that again and I'll make sure the demons even those odds, bro."
With a wider grin, Ian just grabbed his brother’s wrist and ran faster. Behind them, already fading into the static air, the shadow creatures paused. Yellow eyes watched and waited. Silver talons glinted. And then something larger, something darker, pressed itself against the veil between the Earth and the Realm. It reached out, so subtly not even the best telepaths could have sensed it. It began to search. It was older than time, but the mind it needed would be as old as humanity caged in something young.
Across the planet, primal darkness spread through the skies.
Six years later, the shadows stopped waiting.
The astral plane, outside of time.
"There's something the dead are keeping back."
It was a line from a very, very old poem. She couldn’t remember the author.
She felt like that more and more these days, everything inside her threatening to spill out and explode until the air was painted with every color in her soul. It had only been two hundred years. But part of her had been here a great deal longer.
Bridget stood alone in the sand, with the rest of the dead pressed against her senses, her memory. Most people never came to the astral plane. Most people became air, or light, or some other energy. Most souls didn't have the strength she had.
After all, she'd been the most powerful being known to man for two hundred years.
Part of her, anyway.
After a while, the air changed. It turned yellow, then red —- like fire. A dim voice inside her said, It's almost time.
"Is it?" she whispered, her face blank. "After two hundred years? I still wasn't enough, then."
You were human.
"And the next one will be human. You can't fault us for that." Silence from within. Her eyes narrowed. "You still need your human host. You can't do it alone. We can go where you can't."
I have a host. And I will have more. This is the cycle.
"Give her time. She's just been born."
She will have time.
Bridget had a sense of rushing forward on her feet, of her surroundings striking out and past her like the backwash from a train. She closed her eyes. There was no time here. Time made no difference.
When she looked up again, it was eighteen years later.
"How long now?" she whispered.
There was a long pause. It was reluctant -- something it hadn't been for a very long time.
Six years.
Ice formed in Bridget's stomach. "What happened?"
There was another pause, much more hesitant, and then the Phoenix said quietly, The Shadow woke up.
Bridget shivered.
Yes, there's something the dead are keeping back.
I don't know why, but the more I read these first few scenes -- the first I wrote here -- the more I cringe. Don't like it all as much as I used to. Maybe it's because they were written when I was nineteen and innocent?
Just for a moment, the world stopped. The stars held their breath. The sky shivered. The elements waited. Nothing stirred.
Through tangled synapses, neurons, and dark pathways carved with genetic precision, something moved. A flicker of fire. A breath of air. A drop of water. A tremor of earth.
One mother lost her breath. One child found hers.
The cycle began.
August 4th, 2316.
The woods were quiet, sunlight filtering through green canopy and melting into rock and water. Crouched between two gnarled trees, she balanced her hands on her thighs and listened. Birds warbled above her head in curious echoes; there was the occasional rustle of grass and leaves. The smell of water and woods mixed thickly with the covering veil of sunlight.
A soft, lulling throb spread across her temples, circling around behind her head. She closed her eyes. She had gotten fairly used to the headaches, and with them the increasingly clear visions, even if she had yet to figure out why and what they were. It was incredibly normal now, this abrupt shifting of realities, this stirring aura of gentle warning. Three years, and so far nothing terrible had happened.
They began faintly. She could make out the fleeting things she'd dreamed about before…the river, the half-split moon of black and white, the burst of fire. The sky. She felt her muscles go limp, her eyelids drop.
A panoramic burst shafted across the blackness, and she could see the edge of a harsh glow and a sharp tongue of fire.
She could smell blood. She felt so cold. It was snowing, and it was so cold…
She inched forward, hands digging into the dirt and snow. A shaft of pain blazed up the back of her left leg.
This isn't happening. . .
Fire crackled from somewhere behind her. A wave of nausea caught in her throat. Blood. . .
Her hair hung in clumps around her face, and she could hardly tell if the dark red color was her own auburn or drying blood. Her side throbbed, and she inched forward, aching with pain, hunger, and desperation.
No. . .
A sweet musk filled her nose and she inhaled. Felt the brief warmth of matted fur and rough tongue as something nuzzled the side of her face.
Can't go on. . .I'm sorry. . .
An urgent tug, a soft growl. She braced herself, pushing up with her hands; biting back the scream that threatened to burst when fire seared up her body. Something had happened. . .she was hurt. . .she needed help. . .
Fire.
Flames licked the sky, but now they were a source of light and warmth.
Air.
A gentle breeze brushed her face, carrying the smell of blood away.
Earth.
Soil was soft underneath her, and brought the smell of green.
Water.
A stream whispered just ahead, promising cleansing safety.
With a low moan, she reached out and gripped the gray scruff that filled her peripheral vision. Gratefully she let herself be pulled through fire and air, over earth, toward water. . .
A shift in vision, scenes blurring together. A tiny shop. . .smell of wood and incense. Wind chimes. Soft melody. She looked through the window, could see a woman with white hair, and things on the walls. There was a sudden flash of fire in her head.
I know this place. . .
"Dana?"
A warm hand touched her back, between the shoulder blades. Her eyes flew open and she jerked with a gasp.
"Easy! It’s just me."
She relaxed, but her hands trembled.
"You okay?" Kara asked.
Dana stood slowly and nodded, brushing smooth hair from her face. Smooth, not soaked in blood and dirt. . . "I guess I tranced."
The black-haired girl slid an arm around her. "It'll happen a lot. Don’t worry. We'll work on it."
"Work on what?"
“Your trances,” Kara said. "I mean, I learned to do it awake, and you're probably stronger."
Dana nodded again. "Dreamwalking. Visionwalking."
"Right," Kara said as they began to walk out of the woods. "We see things better than most psychics anyway."
The wind was starting to pick up. Dana lightly stepped over a fallen branch and pushed her hair away from her face again. "That might explain the dreams."
"What kind?"
Dana glanced at her. "Strange ones," she ventured. "Visions. . .a lot of weird images, things. . ."
Kara paused, turned to her. With light filtering at her back, her wavy hair was a black halo and her pale blue eyes were faceted crystals. "Like what?"
Dana shrugged and then shuddered. "Not. . .not like any premonitions; more like. . .traveling to someplace I've never been before and knowing just what was there."
Kara frowned. "Dana, you're shaking."
"I know. I can't help it, I just. . ."
"Tell me what you saw." Kara took her by the shoulders. "Come on."
Slowly, her voice also shaking, Dana recounted the place, the images; the smell of death and the feeling of hope. "It did scare me," she murmured. "I haven't had dreams like that in years."
Kara nodded slowly.
"I'm guessing you have visions like that too," Dana said.
"Yeah. We all get them. Ian, Alex, me. . .you. . ."
Drawing in a slow breath, Dana combed her hair with her fingers and looked at the auburn strands that clung to them. The vision was starting to fade now; she could barely remember anything but snow. "I don't even know what we are," she muttered. "You'd think that after two hundred years people would figure it out."
The other girl shrugged. "Two hundred years ago, most people didn't know."
They moved toward the main path and out of the woods. Dana could barely make out constellations flickering like ghosts on the horizon. The sun was just starting to set.
Are we human? she thought. That’s the main thing. I feel human —- I mean, I know I've been alive for twenty-one years, I grew up human. . .but what’s the part that isn't human? We're definitely more than the average psionic.
"Are we witches?" she asked softly, to both the sky and her friend.
Kara’s voice was equally soft. "Some people might call us that. Most people just say we're more psychic than most people. And let's face it, everyone's been at least somewhat psychic for the last few hundred years. Any better?"
"A little."
"We'll look into it. C'mon. I promised Ian and Alex we'd meet them."
"Promises, promises," Dana grinned. "Where are we going?"
"Their place. It's easier." The lot where Kara had parked was coming up. Dana watched cars flash by, inches from the ground. The trees whispered in the passing wake.
July 16th, 2310.
He and his brother were eighteen today, and neither of them were supposed to be alive.
They had been on the run for over an hour, but the stuff of dreams ignored things like time and space. The air behind them tore in thirds, like fabric rendered by claws. Low, eerie howling danced in his ears. Inside he turned cold. They hadn't given up yet. They probably weren’t going to.
The boys burst onto an empty street leading to a cemetery, then hit the entryway and vaulted over the black iron fence. The cemetery was silent except for the wind. It struck him how desolate such places could be as he hit the damp grass, checked to make sure his brother was following, kept going.
It was after midnight, and the moon was high. He could sense the shadows keeping pace with the two of them. The hair on the back of his neck was standing up.
The sky was the color of ink. Heat lightning flashed across the graves that lay all around them; flashed across the creatures forming from the shadows several yards behind them. Wide jaws gaped and teeth flashed. Limbs stretched out, flexing claws. He glanced behind him, cursed violently, and prayed to whatever small gods were watching that the creatures wouldn't become substantial enough to inflict physical damage. Psychic wounds, he could deal with. Being ripped apart by very real claws was another matter. He didn't stop running until he saw the other end of the graveyard, and urged his brother on, both stopping short just outside the exit gates.
His brother bent forward with his hands on his knees, panting. His eyes were golden brown fire. His mind crackled. His entire body raged. Ian gulped in air, touching his brother's arm with two fingers.
"Don't, Alex. That just encourages them."
"What, me wanting to rip the fuck out of them?" Alex glared, chest still heaving. "Damn it, Ian, stop being so placid! You’re supposed to be dead, you know."
"Yeah, well, I'm not. You want to get out of here on two legs? Keep moving. Besides, it's only been three days."
"Yeah. I got a car. You spent our birthday waiting in a graveyard. In fact, I think it was this one. How coincidental."
Tossing his hair back from his face, Ian glanced up, toward the cemetery, and saw the darkness gathering. He narrowed his eyes. Alex took the hint. Ian whirled and took off again, long legs pumping, Alex at his side. Ian looked at Alex and grinned. "I'm good at cheating death, little bro."
"Call me that again and I'll make sure the demons even those odds, bro."
With a wider grin, Ian just grabbed his brother’s wrist and ran faster. Behind them, already fading into the static air, the shadow creatures paused. Yellow eyes watched and waited. Silver talons glinted. And then something larger, something darker, pressed itself against the veil between the Earth and the Realm. It reached out, so subtly not even the best telepaths could have sensed it. It began to search. It was older than time, but the mind it needed would be as old as humanity caged in something young.
Across the planet, primal darkness spread through the skies.
Six years later, the shadows stopped waiting.
The astral plane, outside of time.
"There's something the dead are keeping back."
It was a line from a very, very old poem. She couldn’t remember the author.
She felt like that more and more these days, everything inside her threatening to spill out and explode until the air was painted with every color in her soul. It had only been two hundred years. But part of her had been here a great deal longer.
Bridget stood alone in the sand, with the rest of the dead pressed against her senses, her memory. Most people never came to the astral plane. Most people became air, or light, or some other energy. Most souls didn't have the strength she had.
After all, she'd been the most powerful being known to man for two hundred years.
Part of her, anyway.
After a while, the air changed. It turned yellow, then red —- like fire. A dim voice inside her said, It's almost time.
"Is it?" she whispered, her face blank. "After two hundred years? I still wasn't enough, then."
You were human.
"And the next one will be human. You can't fault us for that." Silence from within. Her eyes narrowed. "You still need your human host. You can't do it alone. We can go where you can't."
I have a host. And I will have more. This is the cycle.
"Give her time. She's just been born."
She will have time.
Bridget had a sense of rushing forward on her feet, of her surroundings striking out and past her like the backwash from a train. She closed her eyes. There was no time here. Time made no difference.
When she looked up again, it was eighteen years later.
"How long now?" she whispered.
There was a long pause. It was reluctant -- something it hadn't been for a very long time.
Six years.
Ice formed in Bridget's stomach. "What happened?"
There was another pause, much more hesitant, and then the Phoenix said quietly, The Shadow woke up.
Bridget shivered.
Yes, there's something the dead are keeping back.
