Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 115432 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115432 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
“You’re chuckling? Theseus, it was horrifying—”
“Relax,” he had the nerve to tell me. I glared at him, and he nodded. “Yes, I know it is hypocritical of me to say that now. Nevertheless, relax. You will find the answers you are seeking.”
“Where? How?”
“There.” He nodded to the book, still where I had let go of it on the bed though it was now closed again. “It answers you. And I believe it only wants you to understand it. Even in your memories, it locks me out. I saw you reach for the book and open it, but I could not make sense of what is inside of it. Next thing, you were looking back up at me, and time had gone by. It is clear it is no friend of mine.”
“But why?”
“You could ask it.”
Once again, I felt the urge to glare at him. Instead, I crawled to the middle of the bed to reach for it but stopped.
“What if I disappear again?”
“It will be disconcerting, but at least I have some knowledge as to where you are,” he replied. “Here but not here.”
I chuckled, too, and I was glad he was here, that I wasn’t alone. Picking up the book again, I ran my hands over the leather, feeling the magic under my fingers again. “Wraith? Why did I disappear?”
Once more, the book opened, and instead of opening back to the origins, I saw writing. I didn’t understand what was written, and as if it knew, the shapes and symbols changed into English.
Wraith, protect yourself. Let none but the chosen one call upon you. Let them neither touch nor hear nor see what is within you.
I closed the book after that and glanced up, checking for Theseus quickly. He was standing in the same place.
“Did I disappear again?” I asked.
He nodded, truly amazed. “Before my very eyes, but only for three seconds.”
“Wraith was ordered to protect itself from anyone who isn’t the Chosen One?” I explained.
His head tilted. “Is this chosen one you?”
“God, I hope not! But let me ask. Hold on one second.” I glanced down at the book again. “Wraith? Who is the Chosen One?”
You, said the book. It opened, and the image sketched on the cream-colored page staring directly back was of me, my hair down and curls all around me.
“Why? Why me? What is it about me? Why is my magic different?”
Words appeared under my image.
It is not known when the one should be chosen. For it is the earth and its magic to decide. Just as time collects until there is an intercalary phase, so does magic. When the earth is full, its plethora is conferred onto the weakest and humblest of the Wiccan born. For the weakest shall become the strongest, bound by nothing, as the seas, the skies, and the grass upon lands.
I closed the book and looked back up to Theseus.
“This time, four minutes,” he frowned as he replied. “What did you learn?”
“I think. I think it just told me I am like a leap year?” I replied, not sure if I was explaining it correctly at all.
“A leap year? An excess day added to when there is enough time leftover?”
“Except it is not excess time but excess magic. When there is so much magic left in the earth, it is all given to a Wiccan. The weakest Wiccan born, which apparently was me. But how? My mother was a powerful witch, so was my father.”
“Two positives sometimes make a negative,” he answered before I could question the book. “It does not surprise me. Most times, two powerful witches create another powerful witch. But every once in a while, their magic could cancel each other’s out and leave a child with nothing or too weak to survive. It is rare, but it is possible. It happens even with mortals who believe they are both healthy and compatible, and yet their child is ill.”
That was true. But, for some reason, it left me feeling…alone. “I always found ways to comfort myself for not having my parents. One of the things I told myself was at least their magic is in my veins. But it is not theirs. Just a cluster of magic dumped on me at the right time.”
“Druella.” Theseus sat beside me on the bed, placing his hand on my arm. “The place where your magic comes from is the same place your parents got theirs. It just did not take the same route. You are a witch because of them. If not for that, you would not have been given magic at all. So, think of yourself as a new first-generation witch.”
I smiled, nodding. “You’re right. Thanks. The book also explained that’s why my magic is boundless. I’m not sure—” I stopped, feeling a sharp thorn at the back of my neck then at my side. “Ugh…What in the…ah!”