Shades of Light

“There weren’t always dragons in the Valley.”

When the words sounded against her ear as if someone spoke them, her heart skipped as she ripped her hand from upon the stone which she leaned. Looking around at the emptiness around her forced her to question if what she heard, she actually heard. Or if she had felt the warmth of breath or just the winds of the Saudi Desert against her ear. It was a cold night and though the sun had set some time ago, Ahashka Cree noticed the sand was still warm as she sat cross legged beneath one of the ancient iron crosses her team had been searching for. As she awed at the clear etchings of an unknown language deep in the stone, she decided that before touching it again, she should prepare. Several long, slow breaths later she set her hand on the stone again, focusing before reaching out and allowing whatever, in. As she sunk into the feeling, she sunk down into the image of the spiral where the voice she heard before began again distant at first, but growing nearer.

“Long ago the boundaries created by the elders were respected by most humans and dragons, we lived in harmony.”

The voice then led her through a tunnel that at its end opened to an endless forest where roots had appeared to hold the trees above ground as a candle holder might a candle. The natural erosion of the soil over centuries created small enclosures beneath the trunks, ones that were shrouded by the luscious nature of the plants growing around them. So thick were the plants that few people seemed to know of the hiding spaces beneath and within. In the distance she could see a fire that she moved toward and around, as would the wind, she knew she had long since left Kansas as a dragon breathed fire down onto men clamored in medieval armor below her.

The wind swept her away from the chaos of men atop horses and the sounds of battle through and past the center of a town, slowing near the door of a stable barn retrofitted into a small herbal shop near the wood line.

An older woman, Bernadette Springs leaned out a stable door listening to the commotion some miles away that wrenched her gut and sent shivers down her spine, the concern in her eyes was as clear as the lines in her light brown skin.

When Berna heard something fall behind her, she turned to look to the rear of the shop where a young girl jumped in front of, as if to conceal a mess of shattered glass on the floor.

“Now Bee, what do we have here?” A little girl with tight curls in her short hair stood with her head tilted down, hands interwoven in front of her.

“I was preparing.”

“For what dear?” Berna moved to clean the glass.

“The battle is near, I will use my powers to protect us.”

“No child, we talked about this.”

The woman sat on an overturned keg, using it as a seat beckoning the girl near, she lifted her onto her lap.

“Now, now. You’re not in trouble, girl. Just come sit here with Berna. There you go. Listen here Lass, we mustn’t let anyone learn of your powers. Understood?”

The little girl puckered her lips nodding as she finished the rehearsed and repeated warning alongside Berna, “People fear what they don’t understand, and that fear makes them unpredictable. Better they never know.”

Berna smiled sympathetically and tilted her head down to kiss the child’s cheek.

Bee moved to accept the kiss while asking.

“But who will protect the dragons?”

“Why the same magic you possess Bee. Hurry now we must go meet the others.”

It was then the sounds of voices outside became frightful and Berna pulled the shutters closed before ushering the girl out the back door.

Like the smoke on the wind, Ahashka Cree’s mind’s eye drove her ahead of the two making their way out the back of the shop. It was a short distance through the thin haze to a small opening in the forest where an arch with a sign clanging against its metal chains read Orphanage.

Josephine Breen heard metal clanging against metal and the roars of the dragons’ flames, and a tightness grew in her as she lined everyone up in front of the Orphanage’s small cottage. Quickly she checked all their packs, their water flasks, and belts.

“Ok listen everyone, there is no time, this is not a drill. Have anyone questions?”

“The tunnels beneath the mole tree?” The oldest asked.

“Yes Albert.”

Josephine began waving as she spotted the youngest with Berna, she yelled out to them.

“You two go ahead, they’ll catch up.”

“What about you?” Albert interrupted.

Josephine leaned toward the boy and placed her hand on his shoulder as she smiled,

“I must retrieve what old man Byrne took. I’ll only be a minute… Go on, help Berna and Bee.”

All the children looked at her with concern.

“I’m faster than the lot of ya!” she exclaimed, “Now go on or you’ll be eating my dust soon for sure!”

They all laughed nervously as they turned and chased after Berna and Bee.

With that Josephine’s feet hit the ground just as she felt rain drops falling against her skin.

Old man Byrne, her employer had some weeks ago stumbled across their hideout beneath the trees. It was there that he had taken the book she herself had found deep in the tunnels beneath the forest.

At first, she thought it no harm, his studying the book. Most people didn’t believe so they couldn’t practice magic and watching how he learned was giving her practical knowledge.

Though the man was careful not to divulge these abilities, she began to note his compulsive nature leading him to a tendency of sharing his beliefs of reincarnation. No doubt the result of witchery within town these last weeks was one of these such conversations. Littering the match, or excuse, everyone needed to bicker amongst themselves as if only the individual mattered.

A few more kilometers… and before she knew it, she crashed into the side of his house, having worked here most of her life she knew to scout for any of the guards before quickly opening the small window of the basement she’d left unlocked for this very purpose.

Within a few moments she had creeped into his office and retrieved the book. While making her way back to the basement she wrapped the book in a shawl that she slung over her back before tying it in front of her chest. Already she was halfway to her exit, every move as fluid and purposeful as she was coming in. When she cleared the basement window, she was outside running again without restraint. The thunder shook the ground beneath her feet just before the rain came down harder than before. The sudden smell of wet burning wood and the sound of barking dogs seemed to bounce from every direction driving her heart faster.

A tightness in her gut formed when she realized the soldiers could cut the group off if the dogs caught the groups scent, no one would have thought to cover their tracks. The fear pumped her full of more adrenaline and soon she felt as if she were flying through the trees. When she neared the mole tree, she could hear the dogs too close for comfort, and she realized the only option for their survival was her sacrifice.

When she saw Albert duck down beneath the mole tree, she unslung her shawl, wrapped it tightly and ran straight toward the tree, within a few feet she slung it with everything she had right into the hole behind him. Just before colliding with the tree, she threw all her weight onto her right foot and darted left. The sadness written on Albert’s face meant that he knew what she was about to do.

The cliffs and the river below were her only chance. Better to be killed instantly, she thought, with a chance of surviving than be eaten alive by the dogs or… the men. With an almost maniacal laugh she was reminded of the dream that led her to prepare for this very day. As the clearing opened up ahead, she hunkered her weight down at the edge and dove into the open sky.

“Time to fly.”

--

When she threw her arms out in front of her, she felt her fist connect with uneven surfaces, hissing as she held her wrist, blinking her eyes open. It took a moment to reorient herself as it usually did from these types of dreams, dreams inside of dreams that felt so real they were more like memories.

When she realized she was inside her car, outside of work, she breathed a sigh of relief until she realized she had fallen to sleep while waiting to begin her shift.

Her shift!?

“Crap.”

The words rumbled out of her chest more than her mouth, she quickly began slipping into her boots while retying her long brown hair behind her. In a few more moves she was tugging the shirt of her guard uniform over her undershirt and buttoning the buttons down. The sudden tap on her windshield and the momentary blindness from the flashlight threw her heart for a whirlwind. Already leaning forward she put a hand in front of her face to leer at the jackass with the torch.

“Jeez Herb, really bro?”

The flashlight pointed to an imaginary wristwatch on his opposite wrist as he shook his head and walked toward the building.

Light rain tattered her roof as she reached for her jacket, pulling it on before she stuffed the untied laces into the neck of her boot. As she reached for the door lever she grabbed her gun belt off the passenger seat, before pulling the hood of her jacket over her head and stepping out into the rain.

Ahashka Cree was average in all ways a female could be, which suited her just fine; it afforded her the ability to stick out or slink into a crowd. Aside from her insight and intuition being more heightened than most, a thing she always considered more of a curse than a blessing, she was and preferred to remain average.

The short walk into the building usually offered about as much excitement as a bowling alley on a Monday night, but this evening was different, with the weather, as well as Ole’ Herb tapping her to wake. In addition to the more than usual intensity behind the glare of another guard, Derrek Malenski, she began to wonder if her nervousness might shine through.

Though a good-looking man, strong jaw, chiseled cheekbones, his eyes were a dark, dark brown. Did it speak to the nature of his heart, she wondered, or was it just the lack of lights out here? Having only worked here a few months and that man’s energy making an impact on her homosexual heart, meant… well she didn’t know what. Usually, abnormal amounts of interest though, equated to passive aggressive behavior that soon became apparent. So she wagered, she’d wait.

As she handed over her ID card, Derrek stared at it as if he’d never seen it or her before.

“Hey Malenski? You used to be a Drill Instructor or what?”

When he grunted as a response, she couldn’t help but laugh as his piercing dark eyes tried to burn their way through her. A part of her was certain it was as if he was intent on disliking her. When she turned to open the entrance door, she lifted her hand above her head and waved as she yelled out behind her.

“I’ll get a smile out of you yet Derrek.”

--

Derrek Malenski squinted as he watched Cree walk away, he was reminded of their first encounter six months ago, it was prior to her employment at the institute, a sparse moment in time that obviously left more of an imprint on him than her.

The only bar in town was an average hole in the wall dive bar, with Lynyrd Skynyrd playing softly on an old jukebox across from the restroom end of the bar. A mix of cigarette and cigar smoke hung in the air like the ceiling liner of an old nineteen eighties sedan. This made the silhouette of the large man approaching Derrek feel more troublesome, not to mention difficult to discern.

A long pull of his glass of beer gave him pause enough to consider the scene and what the man’s sudden interest might warrant. Nearly within arm’s reach the man began to stick out his hand in a seemingly friendly manner, yet with an intensity behind those eyes which spoke of anything but. Derrek noticed the man’s hand when it came into the light; rough, lots of callus’, tattoos on each digit moving up his wrists to long sleeved covered arms. Just as the man began to open his mouth two bodies clamored against the bar near Derrek talking loudly and laughing, the taller of the women fell against Derrek in a way that could have been more deliberate than it appeared.

“Oh, sorry Sir.” The taller woman glanced over her shoulder and inched closer to the woman whose shirt she hung onto.

The man shrouded in shadows reacted as if the two women had trespassed against him, turning his lips up in disgust before quickly moving out of the area. Derrek almost considered buying the women their drink for helping him dodge the bullet of whatever that conversation would have turned into. Which is what prompted his initial eavesdropping.

“Two more beers, barkeep?” It was the other woman who spoke and though Derrek resisted the urge to look, he glanced two times too many taking in as many details of the taller woman as he could. More than her looks there was a glow which radiated around her, and a sweet subtle smell surrounding her like fresh flowers in mid spring.

“Something like the havana syndrome, you say?” Cree asked the other woman as they paid the barkeep.

“MM… that’s the word honey.” The taller woman began, “I’ve worked at The Institute for a couple of years now and I’m the only person who can be within a few feet of her and not be adversely affected.”

“The Institute? Thought you said it was a prison?” Cree asked.

Derrek couldn’t resist listening now, though he struggled not to turn and stare due to how easily the taller woman so obviously lied. The background checks he had run on all previous and current employees was extensive, there was no way he’d missed or forgotten a face like hers.

Though he preferred not to be anyone’s lap dog, the snooping was done in vain. An opportunity arose for Derrek, a soldier at the time who was about to be incarcerated for a disaster of a mission. A mission that consequently revealed him to be one of the few soldiers now classified as ‘Abno,’ a person possessing abnormal abilities. Which would have landed him a prisoner in the very establishment he now worked.

Derrek was commissioned by the government to spy on the Wardens of the Institute ever since they had sought and received independent funding, effectively cutting the government out of decades old projects they had dumped millions into.

The ‘Havana syndrome’ was thought to derive from a prisoner who had abilities which defied all known scientific explanation. That the taller woman even knew of this prisoner was curious, yet alone claiming to be unaffected by the intense energy surrounding the prisoner, was unheard of. The prisoner was said to generate enough energy to power half the city. A possible explanation for the adverse effects of beings within or near her biofield.

At nearly twenty feet from her cell Derrek knew the effects were strong enough to give him physical sensations like those which many people complained about.

So when Cree began working at the prison six months ago, literally becoming the only person he knew of to be unaffected by the ‘havana syndrome’, prompted Derrek to look much further into Cree. A curious thought kept recurring, he wondered if that entire situation at the bar was preplanned, a farce even. And if so, was Cree serving a similar purpose as he, only working for some other mastermind?

These suspicions recently prompted Derrek to recruit Sean who ran the surveillance tower, though he wasn’t sure he could trust him completely they had known each other in basic training and served a year overseas together. That counted for something. Besides he had to get real time evidence of the oddity created when Cree entered that cell to care for the prisoner.

From the research he’d acquired, he learned the cell was designed specifically to harness and utilize the excess energy surrounding the prisoner. The cables interwoven between the bars were thick, encasing a translucent fluid which cooled the series of small circuitry within. Those circuits danced around tiny boards and several strands of thin copper wire creating an interesting effect of a flowing rainbow of light which seemingly raced around the prisoner’s cell.

Though this was strange and fascinating enough, what Derrek noticed was when Cree entered the cell, the racing lights seemed to respond to her. The normal clockwise flow paused then reversed just as the colors within all became shades of deep blues and purples. Within moments it all shifted back to its normal racing state, therein the reason he needed Sean.

When Derrek’s phone vibrated against his leg he snapped out of his dream-like state and shifted all his gear to reach into his pocket. They weren’t allowed cellular devices at work, but today was an exception to the rules. Derrek’s handlers wanted results and that meant taking a few risks to get the intel.

“I’m ready.” Sean’s text read.

“Ok,” Derrek began typing as he clocked Cree, “It begins just before she is a few feet away.”

“Got it. Recording to USB now.”

“Thx.”

Derrek stuffed the phone back in his pocket before falling in behind Cree, he continued nearer the energetically charged cell until the feeling of nausea became too overwhelming. While stepping backward he took several long, slow deep breaths waiting until the effects became more bearable.

--

When Cree stepped into the cell, she immediately noticed something was different, prisoner B had rapid breathing and she groaned, rolling over as if in a fitful sleep. Cree drew nearer to listen to the woman’s mummers, noticing how attractive she was even with a face full of sweat.

Cree jumped back surprised; she wasn’t sure she had ever seen prisoner B in such a state. When Cree placed her palm on the woman’s forehead, the woman seemed to relax as instantly as Cree began to the heat of the woman’s body traveling up her own arm. Startled, she jerked her hand away from the woman, noticing her arm immediately felt normal again, and prisoner B instantly began sweating again. It was initially curiosity that led her to place and hold her hand back onto the woman’s forehead, yet it was vanity that led her to wonder if her touch had a healing effect which could possibly take the fever completely.

--

As if in a dream Bellona could feel herself wrapped in the energy of a woman whose shoulder she sat upon while running through a forest familiar. There was a smell of smoke in the air, and the sounds of metal clanged against metal or bone rose over the voices of dogs and men. When the running woman approached the trunk of a tree that Bellona recognized, she began to remember just as her consciousness followed the shawl from the woman's shoulder into a space beneath a large tree and right past the body of the small girl patiently sitting near an older boy within.

Just as she began sorting out the happenings around her she felt Alberts hand grasping hers as she reached for the bag which collapsed near her shoulder. The boy tugged her to her feet as she chased him down into the tunnels beneath the forest. The maze of tunnels opened into small rooms taking them as far into the forest as they dared to explore in days past, lined with colored string they knew where to meet.

-

In a haggard, labored effort Bellona sucked in damp, dusty air; only after a small coughing fit, did she inhale the sweet smell of jasmine and vanilla. Though more of a challenge than she knew it should be, she wretched her eyes open just to be met with a pair of familiar green orbs leering down at her. The green eyes belonged to a woman softly patting her head with a cool cloth. Though she heard words and saw the woman’s lips moving, she couldn’t quite decide what was being said or what words were. Instead of the battle she remembered from only a moment ago there was instead a faint consistent humming from something like a beehive surrounding her, it mixed like oil and water with the whispers and heartbeats of several people in her proximity.

“Oh, whoa. Ok, hey. Go easy now. Easy?” The woman she recognized stepped forward as if to catch her. Bellona began to notice when the woman released her grip on Bellona’s arm, the cloud of confusion and weakness which had faded suddenly came back in full force.

"Please.” Was all she could manage to say as she felt the woman pull her to a sitting position. Bellona leaned her shoulder against the woman’s hand for support as well as for the unusual added sense of clarity resulting from her touch. As she took in her surroundings, she noticed the place was strange and cold and too clean to be a place someone lived comfortably. The cell bars surrounding her and the woman’s uniform stuck out in her mind’s eye as Bell began to understand that she was not in this place of her own volition.

Bell reached out trying again to stand still expecting to feel the warm, damp dirt of the tunnels beneath the trees. Bellona looked up, suddenly hit with an overwhelming sense of sorrow as she began to understand.

“You’re the… hey wait, did you end up flying?” Bellona asked.

When the woman in uniform tilted her head and squinted her eyes, Bellona felt wrapped as safely in her energy as she had as a child.

“Well, now. It’s good to have you here with us but you may still feel as if you’re dreaming.” Cree responded.

When Bellona focused, she felt stronger within the bubble Bell was sure the woman unknowingly created. For a moment she let herself drift, as if the information were flowing all around her and all she had to do was reach out. In seconds she had learned more about the people around her and her situation by simply opening herself to their thoughts. To be sure this was tied to Cree for the moment Bellona released her grip on the woman, immediately swarmed with confusion and fog she grabbed the woman’s shoulder again and held tight.

--

Cree paused when the woman turned to face her, she attempted to step back and was stopped short by Bellona’s surprisingly strong grasp on her shoulders. The inmate had lowered her head and began speaking in a nearly inaudible volume using a language that Cree felt to be as old as the sun. For a moment she reconsidered her dream from earlier, the language written on the stone, this woman seemingly aware of the dream she had of flying. A warmth began from the embrace distracting her from her thought, and the energy that traveled down and then back up Cree’s spine, stalled, and swirled around her chest.

When Cree’s instincts reacted to Bellona moving within inches of Cree’s face, that feeling of energy, raw power, swept into her veins, mingled and conversed with the blood just before it traveled down, around and through every limb.

“Choose.”

Cree reached to remove the inmate’s hands, holding one, she fell back unintentionally pulling Bellona to her feet.

"Hey…?” From down the hall she could hear a hint of concern in Derrek’s voice.

Bellona leveled her gaze toward him still holding Cree’s shoulder as Cree suddenly very weak struggled to stand.

Derek’s face looked pale as beads of sweat poured down his forehead, and his belt hung like a gunslinger from the weight of his hand upon the butt of his pistol.

It was at that moment Bellona began flickering in and out of sight, shimmering like an ornament hanging, twirling beneath the branch of a Christmas tree covered in lights. Bellona began to move around Cree as would an accomplished dancer, spinning with her arms outstretched beside, then above her head. Once, twice, three times; with each round she paused to tap her finger against the base of Cree’s neck softly.

Time shifted to something like normal when Bellona stopped, stood in her original spot. The sound of machines grinding to a halt filled the air as the power in the building began shutting down systematically. The lights within the cables surrounding the cage dimmed, flickered, and then went out completely. As they did Cree felt an overwhelming amount of energy blanket over her before suddenly feeling very strong again. The emergency generators struggled to start and she heard all the cell doors unlock unanimously just before the eerie yellow emergency lights spaced several feet apart, circled their areas like a lighthouse.

Disoriented by the lights the realization hit everyone the very moment Sean’s voice crackled over the loudspeaker.

“All inmates must return to your cells and stay seated.”

When he turned around Derrek’s eyes grew wide to the scene that opened before him. At the dead end of a long hallway is where he found himself, the only exit was now crowded by several inmates with an intensity behind their eyes he recognized from war. They were going to kill him if they could.

One of the inmates sleepily creeped out of his cell as if it were an easy Sunday morning, which is when Derrek and the other inmates began to see how the advantage had shifted. In situations like this, making the first move could be the only chance. With that Derrek stepped forward, wrapped his forearm around the easy-going little man nearest him, picked him up, ran forward and slung him into the group. This bought him enough time to run back, unholster his weapon and fire twice. The first shot capped an inmate’s knee and the next shot hit the left shoulder of another man. Which was enough to convince the others that potentially escaping was the obvious choice.

When Derek looked Cree’s way, Bellona shifted herself and Cree to the side slowly making their way out into the hallway where Derrek stood squarely in front of them. It was too late when Cree saw the man behind Derrek raising what seemed to be a bent chair above him. Cree had almost enough time to yell out a warning. Yet when the chair fell down upon Derrek it slid through what seemed to be nothing more than smoke in the shape of a man, something straight out of that roadrunner cartoon. Poof, Derrek was there, but he wasn't there.

Not until the inmate lifted the chair astonished he missed did Derrek’s body begin to materialize on one side. Just long enough to rip the chair from the large man’s hands and swat him over the head like one would a fly. When the metal chair clanged against the floor, Derrek stood a physical being once again.

There was a voice that she could hear, it was distant but it took her back to the dream from earlier. It was a voice she could feel, rather than hear; yet it grew louder and louder until Bellona spoke and Cree understood something she could not describe.

“The tides are changing, an opportunity for the world as you know it is emerging. Find us with this.”

Rather than smoke like Derrek’s silhouette Bellona shifted into light, all colors swirling within a warm glowing semblance of the body she once wore.

Cree felt on her face as if she'd stepped out into the midday sun just before she watched Bellona walk straight through the wall. It was Bellona's hand that disappeared last, from her figner slippeda small object that bounced and tinkered agaisnt Cree's boot.

As she leaned down to grasp what appeared to be a coin made of the same material and with the same designs as was on the iron cross from her dream, the voice seeped back into her mind again at first a subtle feeling which slowly grew into something like a roar.

“Find us.”