Blood Mage: Prophecy

Chapter 1 - The Anniversary The sun glinted off John’s 2008 pristine baby blue Ford Mustang through the opened garage door. Tools, parts, and antiques were organized throughout the garage, with projects on various tables in different stages of progress. He sat at his workbench, trying to fix an old clock, the last piece his father worked on before he passed. The clock, an exquisite relic of a bygone era, had a sizeable wooden frame carved with intricate patterns of flowers and vines intertwined and looping around the edges. The wood, once a deep mahogany, had now faded. The clock face was pale, aged ivory with black Roman numerals painted around the edges. Time had taken its toll, and the numbers had started to blur and fade in places. The clock hands, made of tarnished brass, had an elegant design – the hour hand being stout and the minute hand slender, elongated, ending in an ornamental flourish. A small, ornate window revealed a slowly swinging pendulum made of the same tarnished brass below the noon position. Once steady and precise, the rhythmic ticking of the clock now faltered occasionally. The glass pane that protected the face was slightly scratched and foggy, a testament to its long journey through time. Despite its imperfections, it had a regal presence, a silent witness to countless memories and moments gone by. John’s love for antiques was a passion passed down from his father. The horrible arguments between his parents caused his dad to spend weeks lost in antique repair and refurbishing. Something John understood all too well. When his dad passed, he left his entire antique collection and all the tools, which John now used regularly and would never part with. “Did you forget what today was?” Stephanie leaned against the doorway, her curly blond hair catching the sunlight, casting playful shadows that danced over her slender figure. Her gaze held John's attention more than the words she spoke. John looked at her, and his eyes wandered downward. She glanced down at her stomach, instinctively folded her arms. “Friday?” he said sarcastically. She frowned. “No, it’s the anniversary of our first date.” “Shit, honey, I’m sorry. I got lost in this.” John sighed and looked down at the partially completed antique. “Give me a few more minutes. I’m almost done with the top part. Then I’ll get cleaned up, and we can grab some food.” Stephanie glanced down and folded her arms again. “Yeah, I guess we can. It still hurts that you forgot.” John shrugged. “Just give me a bit longer, and I’ll be done.” “Well, it’s our first anniversary. I can’t believe you’d forget something that important.” She tapped her foot and sighed. “But fine, I’ll get ready.” She turned and went into the house. John returned to his work. The phone rang from inside the house, but after a few rings, it stopped. After closing the garage, he stepped into the kitchen and living room. It featured a love seat, a sixty-five-inch TV adorned with a few pictures, and a Joker poster from Heath Ledger's era. Scattered comics-related posters were a common sight in the house. The living room's hardwood floors contrasted with the sickly green walls needing repainting. This flooring transitioned to white tiles as the space opened into the kitchen, restricted by a half-wall. The kitchen, simple with white tile floors, basic cabinets, and white wallpaper, had a small table with three chairs. He appreciated how the kitchen and living room seamlessly connected, leading to the stairs to the upper floor. John ascended the carpeted stairs, carefully gripping the recently replaced white banister—a necessity after his multiple tumbles. At the top, a short hallway welcomed him, lined with posters of Iron Man, Mad Max, and Bladerunner. He passed the bathroom and entered his bedroom, where a large mirror hung above a dresser cluttered with assorted items. His queen-sized bed, unmade and dotted with clothes, sat on the blue-tinged carpet against walls of an unappealing vomit color, earmarked for a future makeover. Pausing in front of the mirror, he studied his reflection – short brown hair framing a thoughtful expression, blue eyes reflecting a world beyond the present. A neatly trimmed mustache contrasted with his untamed beard. His gaze drifted to the pile of AD&D books in the corner of the room, portals to the realms he cherished – supernatural, occult, and fantastical. For a moment, he lost himself in the longing to traverse these fictional worlds, worlds where he felt more at home than in his own skin. John took a deep breath and shook away the daydream. He sat on the bed to put on his socks. Stephanie walked into the bedroom and leaned against the door. “So…” She paused and took a deep breath. “If you’re going to say shit about me forgetting the anniversary… then don’t. I said I was sorry.” “No, that’s not it. Stop being a dick,” Stephanie protested. “Mrs. Jefferson called. Her husband passed away.” “Wait,” John stood up. “How?” “She didn’t say. She said she needs a few days to set up the estate sale, then she wants you to come buy what you want before she opens it. Since you and Mr. Jefferson were so close, she wanted you to get that chance.” “He was a good man.” John gazed off in the distance, then looked back at Stephanie. “Yeah, whenever she’s ready, we can stop by and pay our respects. I wouldn’t mind getting the dagger, at least, and seeing what else he has.” Stephanie looked back into the living room. “I’ll be done getting ready shortly.” “I’ll be out in a bit,” John said. John and Stephanie headed for the car, and he opened the passenger door for her. Walking around the front of the vehicle, he jerked his head at the sound of the garage door squealing shut. He stood in a room as dark as it was silent until an incoherent whisper caught his attention. --We will meet soon. Be prepared.-- Time suspended, and dread gripped his heart. He tried to move, but something kept him frozen in this strange place. He took a deep breath, and even the air in his lungs felt frozen. A popping sound burned through his ears, he stumbled and caught himself on the hood. Stephanie sprang from the car and rushed to his side. "Are you okay?” “Yes, honey. I’m fine.” “Was it the hallucinations again?” “No, I’m fine. I just got dizzy.” This was his first vision in months, and he didn’t want to make her worry again. He took a deep breath, steadied himself, and got in the car. A fully treated leather interior complemented the baby blue exterior. Red LED lights were throughout the interior, along the floors and doors. The steering wheel cover was red, accentuated by red seat covers, and topped off by a red grip cover for the gear shift. Despite the immaculate condition of the Mustang, a stark contrast to the unfinished remodeling projects that lingered throughout the house, it was evident where his priorities lay. Backing out of the right side of the garage, they passed Stephanie’s vehicle, a green suburban jeep, something John planned to replace with something newer when he had extra money. Halfway to the restaurant, John looked over at Stephanie. “I’m sorry.” She glanced back at him. “It’s okay, but it’s been happening a lot. Hopefully, work will be less stressful, and you’ll chill out once you get the new position.” As the CFO for Transcom International for the last five years, John managed all of its financial affairs. He took a considerable pay cut to help keep the company afloat despite the CEO’s horrible resource management and over-expanding within the company. “Speaking of which. How’s work going?" She turned the radio down. "Michael should be finally retiring in the next few weeks, so if I can stay on his good side, it’s a guaranteed position.” “More responsibility means less time fixing antiques.” John shook his head. “Yeah, not happening. Antiques are important to me, plus I still want to open that antique shop.” “Maybe then you’ll be a little less grumpy.” Stephanie rolled her eyes and looked out the window. “I said I was sorry.” “That’s not an excuse to take it out on me. I don’t take all the stuff going on with my mom out on you.” “You kind of do. With bitching and being pushy all the time. I know I have stuff to work on to, but things will get easier. I promise.” John glanced at her. “How is mom?” “Not good,” Stephanie said. “But the doctors are hopeful, so that’s something.” “I’m sorry,” John whispered. Stephanie’s mother, Diane, had been in and out of the hospital dealing with cancer and the early onset of dementia. Because her cancer was in remission, she was still healthy enough to live alone. Overall she was in a bad season of life. John took the silence as a chance to turn the radio up again. He knew Stephanie was right about how he’d been treating her, but he didn’t know how to stop himself. He had been feeling so angry lately and wasn’t even sure why, but he had to get a handle on it. After what seemed like forever, they finally pulled into their favorite fancy hibachi restaurant and parked near the front entrance. The outside was surrounded by a one-foot ground aquarium that resembled an old-fashioned moat. Several types of multi-colored koi swam around as they passed by. The inside had a more traditional decor. The front desk had a fractal pattern etched into its design. It was a nice blend of brown and dark brown. The same color pattern could be seen throughout the entire restaurant. The chairs were light brown, the tables were dark brown, and the benches followed suit. They chose a booth. He felt safer and more at home in a booth with only one side facing out. The only thing on the tabletop was a vintage salt and pepper shaker, which you might find in an old-school diner. The conversation focused on small talk before shifting to their upcoming wedding; Stephanie shared many of the plans she had for it and things she’d like to see. Finishing their meal, John noticed she hadn’t eaten much. “You’re struggling with it again, aren’t you?” “With what?” John looked at her plate, then back at her. “Oh, that.” She played with the food. “It’s always a struggle, but I’m doing okay. It’s just hard sometimes… but don’t worry.” “Well, I’m here for you. No matter what, we’ll get through it together.” John took a deep breath. “Also, I’ll try to work on this recent temper problem. I’ll do my best.” “Yeah, I guess.” She went back to fiddling with her food. They wrapped up dinner and paid. The car ride home was quiet. They listened to music together. They carried that same vibe into the living room, watched an old Tarantino movie, and then went upstairs to bed. Laying down, John got a text from Michael, his boss. Come in tomorrow. You’re needed this Saturday. Work emergency. “What is it, babe?” Stephanie asked. He showed her the text message. “They’ve already got you working overtime. Now it’s weekends, too?” She sighed and looked away. “It’ll just be tomorrow, but I can’t risk pissing him off. We need this promotion; it’s been two years in the making. I’ll go in early and hopefully get home early.” “Fine,” she responded. “You’re always grumpy when you get off work, so please keep the shitty attitude at work where it belongs. I don’t want to deal with your bad mood all weekend.” “I’ll try.” John kissed her goodnight and turned off the light. Chapter 2 - Work Stress John woke up early to a pounding headache. He left Stephanie in bed, got dressed, and headed to work. He worked on the city’s outskirts, which blended into the countryside as far as the eye could see. The eight-story building, made from reflective glass, allowed him to see his car on the street every time he pulled up, one of his favorite things about their new office. The ground floor had a reception desk near the front that led into a series of elevators, and eventually, on the other end were back-to-back cubicles. Each floor was the same, and John headed straight for Michael’s office on the fourth. As John approached Michael’s door, he took a deep breath and walked in. The office was filled with certificates, awards, and commendations—most of which were from when he was a staff sergeant in the army. Directly in the middle of the office, Michael sat behind a plain desk with just a few scattered papers. Michael always wore old reading glasses and had a buzzed haircut. He was tall, but his posture made him look shorter than he actually was. He wore a suit and tie to work daily, but it needed to be dry-cleaned. He didn’t care much about his outward appearance, but behind that was a genius whose only downfall was occasionally biting off more than he could chew. “You’re here,” Michael said without looking up. “I am,” John sat in the chair in front of the desk. “I hope this is urgent; my girlfriend wasn’t happy about me working today.” “I’m sure she’ll be fine for an hour.” Michael looked at John. “If you become CEO, give me a breakdown of your actions with the company.” “What do you mean?” “I have decided to retire sooner. I’ll be stepping down on Wednesday and choosing someone to take my place. It’s between you and Alejandro. Depending on who gives me the best answer today.” “Alejandro?” John furrowed his brow. “Don’t be jealous now. He’s a good employee. And this is a way to see who has a better vision for the future.” “Yes, sir,” John cleared his throat and gritted his teeth. “I’ll write a report and get it on your desk by Monday.” “Not necessary.” “Why not?” “Tell me now,” Micheal smirked. “Now…? Okay.” John looked around the room and saw a whiteboard. He walked over to it, drew three lines, and split the board equally. He wrote a few things down. “We are expanding too fast, bleeding out money, and unable to fulfill our current obligations.” John motioned to the three equal sections on the whiteboard. “I’d cancel the bid on the other property and stay here. From there, I’d break the company down into three main areas of focus, each with its own department.” Michael’s phone rang. He mashed a button to silence it, then looked back at John. He pointed to the first section. “One-third of our company will handle all our archaic systems: 2G, 3G, 4G, radio communications, satellite and other wireless-based communication. I’d migrate 2G through 4G all to 5G and consolidate everything under one system while phasing out other customers that refuse to migrate.” Michael’s phone rang again. He answered, “I’m in a meeting. Call me back in twenty minutes.” Then, he motioned for John to continue. John pointed to the other two segments. “The other two-thirds of the company will focus on new technological breakthroughs, such as quantum communication projects and satellite-to-satellite technology. These are the forefront of our future.” John returned the marker and sat back down. “There were a few other minor things, but that would be the main flow of the business going forward.” “Interesting,” Michael said. “What do you recommend we do about the mergers and buyouts we are doing?” “Cancel them all, but look for things that align with our vision. Nothing currently on the table relates to our main focus.” Michael made a few notes on his computer and then looked back at John. “That’s all I needed. Have a good weekend.” John stood and shook Michael’s hand. “Thanks again for the chance. I look forward to your decision.” “Oh, one more thing.” Michael pulled a piece of paper out and laid it on the table. “The office is shut down next week. The company that we lease the building from is having a pool installed on the roof.” “A pool?” John raised an eyebrow. “No idea, just part of their expansion,” Michael smirked. “Close the door on your way out. John returned to the car but sat in his driver’s seat. His hands were shaking, and he took a deep breath. “I hope Alejandro messes up,” He whispered before starting the car to drive home. When he got home, he pulled into the garage and entered the house. He didn’t see Stephanie in the living room or kitchen, but a half-eaten meal was sitting on the table in her usual spot. Heading for the bedroom, he heard shuffling sounds coming from the bathroom. He opened the door and looked in. Stephanie was on her knees in front of the toilet. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail. Her shirt was pulled up over her head, exposing her breasts and stomach. Her fingers were streaked in vomit as she stuck them in her mouth again, gagging every few seconds. The toilet bowl had vomit on the sides and on the floor, and she was pale. A few seconds later, she vomited again as her stomach contracted. “What’s going on?” John asked. Stephanie looked at him, startled. “Get the fuck out!” she yelled, hopped up, and slammed the door, almost tripping over the vomit. “Can’t I get any fucking privacy in this house?” she screamed again, then locked the door. He shook his head, went to the bedroom, and lay down. Several minutes later, he heard the toilet flush. Stephanie walked into the room with a towel wrapped around her and lay beside him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t want anyone to see that.” “ You could have told me, I’m here to help. We can get you someone to talk to again?” “I’ve seen dozens of therapists, counselors, psychiatrists. I’m done with that.” Stephanie huffed and looked back at the door. Then, she walked over and lay down beside him. “I’ll deal with this on my own. I’m just not ready. I’ll work on it.” “There’s got to be something I can do to help?” John reiterated. “There’s not. This is my fight. I will do it when I’m ready. Just not right now. I recovered from it before, and I will again.” “It’s not that easy for me to just ignore this.” John crossed his arms. “There has to be more to this than just stress.” “There is,” Stephanie hesitated. “I hate myself. I hate how I look. I hate my body. More than anything, I hate my stomach.” She looked down and scoffed. “No matter what I do, nothing will make it look good to me, no matter how small it gets. I hate everything right now.” She huffed and rolled away from him. “I’m going to sleep. Just leave me alone for now, please.” John lay there for a long time, listening to the sound of her breathing and letting his thoughts drift. Stephanie’s past had been steeped in trauma. She was raised in an abusive home. Her mother, Diane, always mentally, emotionally, and verbally abused her. She made fun of her weight, hair, and appearance. She used to tell her that she preferred to get an abortion and made a mistake giving birth. They had a long and dark history together. Diane slapped and punched her a few times, but most of the damage she caused was psychological. On the other hand, Stephanie’s father, Nolan, was a monster. He was sexually and physically abusive to her throughout her entire life. Most of the time, it was during an alcohol or drug-fueled rage. It got worse whenever she got in trouble. He’d starve her for days at a time, talking about how fat she was and how he was going to starve the evil out of her. His nickname for her was pudgy most of the time, even though she was underweight most of her life. In time, Diane changed, and they came to some semblance of forgiveness and reconciliation. Her father died of an overdose after having her locked in a closet for two days. She was close to death when her mother finally called the police. Something that changed her forever. His mind wandered, and something called to him in the distance of his mind. A weird warmth covered his entire body, and he was frozen. His mind started drifting further. A feeling of dread washed over him, and he forced himself out of the trance. He sat in bed, huffing, looking around the room, trying to orient himself. What the fuck was that. --We will meet soon.-- A soothing feminine voice filled his entire mind. But something scared him about the voice. It wasn’t a typical vision or daydream situation he’d faced before… Something sinister was happening, and he couldn’t shake that uneasiness. Once he calmed down, he rolled back over and went to sleep. Chapter 3 - The Promotion Aside from some bickering between John and Stephanie, the weekend was largely uneventful. Early Monday morning, they were both lying in bed talking, and the phone rang. “Hello,” John answered. “It’s Michael. The promotion is yours. Come into the office on Wednesday. I’ll give you the bonus, and we’ll handle some paperwork.” “Wait, are you serious?” John asked. “I am. Alejandro’s ideas were trash. One more thing: originally, it was only supposed to take a week. The workers ran into some issues, so paid leave for everyone for two weeks instead. So aside from us signing papers on Wednesday, enjoy your short vacation.” “Thank you for the promotion, Sir,” John said. “And at least we all get a two-week vacation.” “Speak for yourself, I’m going on a six-month vacation after Wednesday to celebrate retirement. Enjoy your two weeks.” Michael hung up. Finally, after all these years. I finally got it. “What happened?” Stephanie asked, breaking him out of his thoughts. “I got the promotion. Also, I’m off for two weeks instead of one.” “I’m proud of you. You earned it.” Stephanie smiled. “I know how important this is to you.” “I know; I’m glad.” John took another deep breath to steady himself, then pulled Stephanie closer. He felt his shoulders relax and stress melt away. “Oh,” Stephanie broke the silence. “Mrs. Jefferson called earlier. She said we could come by whenever.” “Now’s a good time,” John responded. “Plus, with that bonus coming, I’ll be able to afford more of the antiques now.” Stephanie smile faltered. “Well, I’m ready when you are. Let me grab some coffee and wake up more than we can go.” “I’ll be out in a bit,” John said. After quickly getting ready, John and Stephanie headed for the Jefferson’s house. John had known them since he moved into the house years ago. Bill and Abigail Jefferson had been married for decades and lived relatively peacefully. John had been close to them over the years. Bill Jefferson was an antique store owner who had mentored John. He regularly advised him on which antiques to buy, age, and sell. The feedback he’d gotten on repairs and parts was invaluable. Before his death, he towered above most people at six feet eight inches, had a full beard, and weighed nearly three hundred pounds. He was a gentle soul and very smart. Abigail Jefferson was closer to Stephanie because they occupied each other while their husbands talked about antiques. John pulled onto their driveway. Abigail was waiting for them on the porch. Her short gray hair and walking cane stood out from the road. They lived on a property that had a yard larger than the house. The grass was pristine turf, with a few sparse trees spread throughout. A small pond sat near the house, which connected to a driveway shared with the front door. The house was a charming fusion of past and present. Its exterior boasted large, sturdy logs reminiscent of a traditional cabin, yet a closer look revealed subtle modern touches. Between the logs, glimpses of sleek sheet metal peeked through, hinting at the contemporary comforts nestled within - air conditioning, industrial heating, and more. The porch, a cozy extension of this harmonious blend, was adorned with an array of grandchildren's toys scattered playfully among a few classic rocking chairs, symbolizing the bridge between generations. “I’m sorry for such short notice,” Abigail smiled weakly. “Bill loved you, and in his will, he asked that you get the first choice on all his antiques. You were like a son to him.” “I’m so sorry for your loss,” John looked down. “He was such a great man.” “Yes, he was.” Abigail motioned for them to follow her inside. John had seen their house many times before, inside and out. It was a three-story house with a cellar. Everything above ground was almost all rust-brown colored carpet and white painted walls. The exception was the master bathroom and kitchen, which had linoleum but the same wall paint color as the rest of the house. Besides a few pictures, the Jeffersons weren’t much on decoration. So everything was devoid and plain throughout the entirety of the house, except for the cellar. “It took me a while to get everything organized. Just look around and see what you want. I expect things will sell fast once I start the estate sale.” Abigail headed for the kitchen, then turned back to John. “Oh, by the way, I left the cellar door unlocked. I know that’s your favorite area.” Then she glanced at Stephanie. “Would you like to join me for coffee, dear? I could use someone to talk to.” “Of course, Abigail.” Stephanie smiled and followed her into the kitchen. John started on the top floor. He only found two things he wanted: a small Victorian-style pocket watch from the eighteen hundreds. It was crafted with an intricate gold casing, a delicate chain, Roman numeral engravings on the front, and some family crests on the back. The other was an art nouveau cameo brooch from the nineteen hundreds. It had a small carving of a woman set against a background of shimmering mother of pearl. John walked up to the cellar’s large wooden door with the skull handle and pulled it open. The creaking sound reverberated throughout the house. The lights in the stairwell turned on automatically, and he entered slowly. The steps descended into a long hallway with bookshelves lining each wall with books stacked throughout. At the end of the hallway was another wooden door, smaller than the previous one. As John walked down the hallway, he glanced at the books. Mr. Jefferson had a varied collection, but most were related to the occult, various types of magic, curses, incantations, and other things involving witchcraft and associated fields. But once he approached the door, the books got increasingly dark, delving into things like necromancy, life after death, blood sacrifices, and sacrificial magic. Near the end, an entire section was labeled as banned. He started reading some of the titles. Necromancy: Echoes from the void, The Grimoire of Blood Rites, Infernal Conjurations, and Whispers of the Damned. He felt his spine tingle just at the sound of the last one. He opened the door and walked into a small, mostly empty room, besides a few scattered artifacts. The dagger John had wanted for years sat on one of the shelves. A few scattered books lay around on a desk, and some necklaces and other items were in various cases. But what caught his attention the most was on the opposite end of the room. A wooden shelf ran along the entire wall. Directly in the middle of the wall was a giant altar that dipped down on the other side. A small outline of what looked like a book could be seen, but everything else was hidden from sight behind the other side of the altar. --Come here.-- John froze in place, his heart filling with dread. Silence pressed upon him. His feet crept forward, each step an act of defiance against the terror rising within him. “My god,” he said. A book lay in the middle of the altar. A large closed eye was inserted into the middle of the front cover, with deep red veins running from the corner of the eye into the book’s cover, black and thick with small ridges throughout it. A golden metal inlay lay around the eye’s outer covering, forming a padlock on the side to keep it from opening. The book was several inches thick, and the pages looked like old papyrus. The eye opened and looked in his direction. “What the fuck,” John screamed, jumping backward. It took him a few minutes to collect himself before he could peer over the edge again. The eye was closed this time. Something attracted him to the book in ways it shouldn’t have. Against his better judgment, he reached down and touched the cover. The eye shot open and stared directly at him. He tried to pull back his hand, but it wouldn’t move. The eye was an exotic green color throughout. A strange ringing reverberated throughout the room—not an audible bell but something deep in his mind. John found himself in the middle of a dark and musty cave. In the center were three old ladies dressed in hooded black robes, standing over a giant cauldron. To the right was a table with an old book lying in the middle. On one side of the book lay a pile of optic nerves, and on the other side lay a pile of human skin partially crafted into the book’s pages. Beside the table was a machine with a human arm hanging out of it from where the skin had been farmed. To the left of the cauldron was a skinny woman chained to the rocks in the wall. Her clothes were tattered and torn, her body bruised underneath the lashes of a whip scarring. She had a singular eye on her forehead. “After all these years, Seer,” said one of the witches. The seer smiled weakly. “This won’t turn out like you think. And for the last time, I’m Kassandra.” Kassandra’s eye started turning a fiery red, and one of the witches fell to her knees, with blood dripping out of her eyes, and fell forward, crashing onto the cave floor. Without another word, one of the two remaining witches plunged a dagger into Kassandra’s face, plucking the eye out of her head. Kassandra screamed and whimpered but eventually fell silent. She stood there hanging from the chains, barely breathing. The eye was laid in the book's binding, optic nerves stitching it in place. Once she was done, she finished crafting the last few pages and sewed them into the book. She walked over to a boiling pot, picked it up, and walked it back to the book. She dumped liquid gold throughout the book’s inlay, including the area around the eye, the lines running through the book, and a makeshift padlock crafted on the pages. Once the witches were finished, they stuck the book under cold water, hardening the gold. In the end, they locked it, and the entire book emitted a faint glow. The dread within John deepened. Both witches slit their wrists, dripping blood on the top of the book. The eye opened, and a voice filled the cave. “You thought you’d gain immortality, now you gain only eternal torment.” The eye glowed again, and both witches fell to the ground screaming. The seer on the other side of the room started chanting. “Sunt Kassandra. Marele văzător. În moartea mea, acest cartea o împodobesc cu puterea mea. Voi vâna de-a lungul veacurilor pentru sufletul meu născut și puterea mea va trăi prin cel cu care mă conectez. Blestem pe restul vrăjitoarelor din acest covin spre moarte, să fie închise în groapa lui Mohash pentru toată eternitatea. Cu ultima mea suflare, acestui carte îi dau putere.” She took a deep breath, and with her final exhale, her body fell lifeless against the chains. A bell rang throughout the cave, and John hit the basement floor as reality slammed into place around him. “Are you okay?” Stephanie said. “Yeah, I just tripped.” “You’ve been down here for almost an hour.” “An hour, it’s only been like ten…” John looked at his watch. “Oh, shit. Sorry, I must have lost track of time.” John glanced at the book, then stood and headed toward the door. He looked back again and felt drawn to pick it up. His entire body tingled, pulling him toward the book. Shaking his head, he followed Stephanie back upstairs. As he entered the dining hall, he walked over and sat beside Abigail. He carried the two items he got from the upper flows and laid them on the table. “I just want to get these two things and everything in the cellar?” “Including the books?” Abigail asked. “Yes, everything.” Abigail took a sip of her coffee and sat silently before responding. “Fifteen thousand altogether? It’s worth more than that, but I know you’ll take care of it.” John glanced at Stephanie, who nodded. With the bonus he was getting, he’d still have enough saved for their eventual wedding. John smiled and looked back at Abigail. “Yes, I’ll write you a check right now. Do I need someone to pick it up or pay for shipping?” “No, my sons are going to help me handle deliveries. So don’t worry about that.” John started writing the check. “I did want to ask one thing. In the back room of the basement is an altar and a book. Can you tell me about that or where he got it? I didn’t see that the last time I was down there.” “It’s creepy, I can tell you that. I always feel like it will open the eye and stare at me. Things have felt weird around here since he brought it home. He’s only had it for a few months. He made a special trip to Romania to pick it up. He found it in an abandoned house in the woods near an old village. He brought the entire altar and book back with him.” John handed her the check. “Thank you for everything.” "Thank you." Abigail took the check and walked them to the door. “I’ll get with my boys and see when we can bring everything over.” “I’ll keep the back cellar unlocked in case I’m not home. If that happens, have them lock up when they’re done,” John said. "I am sorry to ask… but how did he pass away?" Abigail frowned. "The doctors don’t know. He was perfectly healthy a few months ago. He just started declining fast, then passed away in his sleep.” “I’m so sorry.” John gently grabbed Abigail’s hand. “If you ever need anything at all, feel free to call.” John and Stephanie said goodbye and headed to the car. He sat in the driver’s seat, holding the keys. “Are you okay?” Stephanie asked. "I just wish I could do more for her. I can’t imagine losing you, so I can’t even fathom how she’s feeling." He started the car, then leaned back to see the driveway. “Don’t worry.” Stephanie frowned. “I’m not going anywhere, you’re stuck with me forever.” She laid her hand on his. “Even though we both have stuff to work on, we’ll figure it out.” As he drove back toward his house, something felt wrong. Dread settled over him, a suffocating weight he couldn't shake. He felt like something horrible was happening or was going to happen, and that terrified him. Chapter 4 - The Dream John stood in the middle of a great valley. He saw snow-peaked mountains in all directions. Small demonic winged creatures littered the sky, causing a tremendous rumbling sound throughout the valley. The ground was ashy and charred, with grass patches spread randomly throughout the seared, broken bits of land. He held a gold-tipped ancient staff in his left hand—energy pulsed from it. The staff spiraled and twisted from top to bottom, littered with deep engravings of various Chinese characters he’d never seen before. A giant diamond protruded from the top and glowed a deep blue color. In his right hand, he gripped a knife. It had a Damascus steel blade, around sixteen inches long, and a four-inch handle. A dragon head was carved into both sides of the handle, and the knife glowed a sharp red that pulsated every few minutes. He had a sheath on a small ancient-looking belt around his waist. Beside the sheath hung an old revolver covered with strange Greek zodiac symbols. He felt something big on his back, and as he looked over his shoulder, he saw a crossbow strapped to him. He wore a long blue robe, and something scratched his face. He reached his hand up and felt a long beard coming down at least five inches and a mustache surrounding his entire face. Something growled beside him. A large ice-white wolf stood beside him with fangs hanging out of his mouth, staring directly ahead. John followed his line of sight and saw someone walking towards him with a drawn sword. John took a step back; the wolf lunged towards the man. Mid-jump, he transformed into a boy who ducked underneath the man’s sword and stabbed him in the stomach. He sidestepped the man’s body as it fell and changed back into a wolf again. He charged another man who came up not far behind the first. He jumped up and bit the man in the throat, dragging his body to the ground. When the carnage had ended, the wolf returned to John’s side and sat down. Demon imps flew down, picked up the two dying men, carried them into the sky, and tore them apart. John suddenly felt a magical connection over all the imps in the air, discovering he somehow controlled them. He woke up in his bed, sweating and shaking. Waves of fear washed over him as the reality of the dream slowly faded. “Are you okay?” Stephanie snuggled herself closer to him and pulled him tight. “Just a bad dream… nightmare maybe. Strange.” He rolled over, laid his arm over her body and closed his eyes. What’s going on. His mind was alert and now he couldn’t sleep. Visions of the dream danced in his head, replaying like it was yesterday, like it was his reality. He’d never had a dream like it before. In it he felt so… powerful. So unstoppable. And that wolf boy was etched in his mind, a strange fondness existed between them, which was weird for a dream. His thoughts continued to rattle in his mind, until he eventually dozed off. Chapter 5 - The Book Wednesday came around quickly, and John got up early to go to work. When he walked into the kitchen, Stephanie was already dressed and getting her shoes on. “Hey baby,” She turned toward him. “I’m going to visit Mom for a while and see how she’s doing, then grab groceries.” “I’m heading to work to handle all the paperwork. Mr. Jefferson’s sons are coming today, but I should be back before they get here. So take your time. Tell Mom I said hey.” John headed out the door. When he got to the office, everything was ready to go. He had an envelope with forty thousand dollars in cash, he had a going away party for the CEO, and then everyone was officially given paid leave during the two weeks it took for them to finish remodeling the roof. On his way home, he deposited all the cash except for ten thousand he kept in the original envelope. He didn’t fully trust banks, so he always kept some aside. The Jeffersons' sons had just parked when John pulled into the driveway. “Load everything in the cellar around back, it’s unlocked,” he called out to them. “I’ll be in the garage, let me know if you need anything. They waved and headed around back, and he went to the garage. He wrapped up the rest of the repairs on the old clock, occasionally glancing back as they loaded boxes around the back of the house. Not long after, they waved at him when they were done and drove off. Tired, he decided to nap before digging through the cellar. He closed and locked everything, then headed to bed. --Come to me.-- The voice echoed in his head, startling him awake. John jumped up, almost falling off the bed. --Come to me.-- John moved to the edge of the bed and sat up. What the hell is going on? He headed to the kitchen for a drink of water, shaking off the disembodied voice as the remnants of a weird dream he barely remembered. I can't sleep. I might as well look through some of the new antiques. John headed out the back door and stood on the porch. A light rain fell, and the moist grass in the backyard had a soft, melodic hue. He sighed and headed into the cellar. Boxes of books and antiques were scattered on the floor. Behind a few boxes, the book with the eye and its altar was on the other side of the room near his work desk. That was fine with him because it still freaked him out. Mr. Jefferson kept extensive records about the history of every item he collected. Each note described where he got the item, how long he had it, and some of its history. John opened one of the boxes and pulled out an old cross with an attached note. The cross had been used by one of the most famous priests that ever lived to perform hundreds, if not thousands, of exorcisms across the world. He was said to have the power to dispel demons without reading Catholic priests' standard exorcism liturgy. Ironically, the priest was killed during one of the exorcisms he was hired to perform. The cross passed through his family line and was eventually lost for a time before resurfacing. John smiled. He loved reading about antiques and had never seen someone care so deeply about their life passions as Mr. Jefferson. He knew the collection would be worth the money. He went to another box and pulled an ancient knife inside a thick, clear plastic bag. The note called it ‘The Suicide Blade’. It was the piece that had interested him the most throughout the years. The note said it had a grim history and had been passed down through the ages. Every owner of the knife killed themselves with it. The knife dated back to fifteen hundred BC, and Internet reports stated the knife had claimed over nine thousand victims throughout the world. That was why Mr Jefferson had it wrapped up— anyone who touched it felt an overwhelming desire to commit suicide. He put the knife back and headed for the door. --Come to me.-- What the hell is going on here… --Time is short. We must speak.-- The voice grew louder. John’s heart pounded like a drumbeat in his chest, each thump echoing a rising sense of foreboding that clung to him like a cold shadow. That feeling danced with the deep apprehension forming in his stomach. Something wasn’t right about the entire situation. Something that chilled him to his core. He wanted to return to bed, but he stood frozen in place. Flashes of the book with the eye kept appearing in the back of his mind. He felt drawn toward it. An obsession that overpowered everything else. An unexpected arousal he couldn’t explain. He circled the mountain of boxed-up antiques and headed over to the altar. Inside was the book, with the eye closed. He slipped his hand under the book, feeling the ridges in the back. He lifted it from the altar and laid it on the table in the middle. He took a deep breath and ran his finger over the lock. The eye shot open. “What the fuck!” John stumbled backward, catching himself on one of the boxes. The eye retained the same green color it had the first time it saw it. It scanned the room, then turned its attention to John. The dilation of the eye deepened, enveloping him in its unrelenting gaze. --I have been waiting for you.-- The voice reverberated throughout his mind. John stood there a minute, staring at the eye looking back at him. --'Hello’ would be an excellent place to start.-- The voice transitioned from deep, terrifying, and overlapping to feminine tones. Almost soothing in a way. "Y-you talk?" John gasped. His heart and head pounded as his breathing overwhelmed him. “I must be hallucinating.” He shook his head. The voice echoed around him again. --Yes, I speak. But only you can hear me, by my choice. Come and sit, let us converse.-- John swallowed and did as the book told him. He walked over, pulled the chair close, and sat several feet away. –-Do not be afraid. I mean, you no harm.-- John hesitated. Eventually, he stood up and stepped closer until he was standing directly in front of the book. "W-w-what did you want to talk about?" he managed to say as his shaking subsided. --I’ve been waiting for you. My name is Kassandra, named after the Greek prophetess.-- Kassandra closed and reopened her eye, refocusing on John again. "What? Am I hallucinating? How are you talking to me?" John shook his head and sat back down, pulling the chair closer. The eye’s color changed from blue to green. --What you are seeing and hearing is real. It's hard for the human mind to comprehend, but it’s reality, nonetheless.-- "Then what do you want from me?" --I need your help. Do you recall seeing my origin?-- “How could I not… Yes. But most of it didn’t make sense. I thought I was hallucinating. Even if it was real… even if I was forced to accept all this as reality, how can I possibly help you?” --The witches trapped me in this form. But I sabotaged their spell. They were unable to enslave me, and I died in the process. However, my power is too much for this book to handle alone. I have to bond with a human to share that burden of power, and it causes certain… benefits on both ends.-- “That doesn’t make sense. How are you awake now, then?” --A bond can either be temporary or permanent. Temporary bonds are meant to give me the strength to survive between permanent bonds; without them, I would cease to exist. The host will degrade and die with time. Permanent bonds are meant to last forever. They are harder to find, but they gain biological immortality once bonded.-- “Biologically immortality?” --They can’t die of old age, sickness, or disease. But they can be murdered or die in accidents. My last bond was temporary; they passed decades ago. My last permanent bond was eons ago, he was murdered.-- “Was Mr. Jefferson a bond?” --Mr. Jefferson did not have magick in his bloodline, that’s required for me to bond. However, my presence drained his life force to give me the power to awaken.-- “So you had something to do with his death. Mrs. Jefferson would be devastated if she knew the truth.” --My existence alone is a curse. When I am not actively bonded with someone, my power drains energy. That causes damage to things and people around me.-- “So what does all this have to do with me? I’m not magick. So how would that even work?” --You have magick deep within your family line. If we bond, we’d both gain immortality, you’d gain great power, and I’d finally be able to perform a permanent bond again. In the end, we both benefit heavily from our union.-- John stared at the eye, trying to wrap his head around what was happening. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, when he opened them again he spoke. “I don’t know what to say. But whatever this is. Whatever this ‘bond’ is you’re talking about, I want nothing to do with it.” The eye shifted colors from green to blue for several seconds, then back again. --I was a seer in life. That became stronger in death. I can follow various strands into the future. You will bond with me. And it will be by your own choice.-- Kassandra’s eye color shifted to a deep red, sending chills through his spine. The eye closed, and she went silent. “Wait? That’s it, you’re done talking?” John waited for a response, but none came. He sat in silence for several minutes, contemplating everything that had happened. When he checked the time, he realized he’d been down in the garage for six hours and hadn’t yet heard from Stephanie. He went upstairs, grabbed some food, and called her. Stephanie answered. She’d been helping Diane clean up some stuff in her house and sort out her medications. Diane had taken a turn for the worse and was considering going back to the hospital for a few days. Stephanie was just wrapping up and about to head back home. When she returned, they spent the rest of the afternoon together before finally going to bed and cuddling. At some point, John passed out. He awoke hours later. Laying in the dark, he didn’t know how much time had passed. With his arm around Stephanie, he played with her hair. Immortality, talking books, magic—what the hell is going on? Is any of this even real, or am I going crazy? I’ve always wanted to be part of something bigger… life sucks. But then again… “You can’t sleep?” Stephanie rolled over and snuggled her head into his side. John jumped. “You’ve been up for a while thinking. What’s on your mind, baby?” she asked. John knew she wouldn’t believe everything if he told her. She would think he was crazy. “I’m just thinking a lot. Trying to make a decision.” She sat up. “Is it about us getting married? Are you having doubts?” She frowned. He gently grabbed her chin. “Of course not, Baby. It’s not that. It's something more like… whether or not to keep working or to open that antique store I wanted. I don’t know how to explain it. It's a few decisions, actually.” She smiled. “Then whatever your decisions are, in whatever area of your life, follow your heart, and you can’t go wrong.” He leaned over and pulled his head towards hers. Their lips met. Time seemed to stop briefly before they broke the connection. “Now get some sleep.” She rolled back over, backed herself into him, and went silent. He spent a few more minutes staring at the ceiling. He rolled over and slid his body tightly against hers. John’s nightmares