Blakeshire (Insight #9)(105)

Sadly, the dark has become darker, wretchedly vile, which is the battle cry that those in the Hermetic Realm bellow each time they state this Fall must be sealed, closed forevermore, forbidden to pass.

Some believe that the reason so few are born with the crest, so few feel the yearning to leave, stems from the evil I see drowning the souls on the dark side. More times than not, those that do pass and return, at least in past generations, have come back listless. Damaged. That is why only the chosen go now. You must bear the crest, you must possess an open mind, and you must actively seek balance. Of course, that is the unspoken rule of this event. The Selected’s unspoken rule.

If the rest of the world knew our limitations, it would cause an uproar. They have already found reason to blame us for the few hardships we do endure in this bright reality.

The crest is vital. It reflects the whole, what both realities look like from the outside. Rings surround these worlds; four of them. Within the rings, the crest will vary with a life plan. The crest will even expand as your life plan approaches its apex.

My crest is unique in the way that it clearly states that I will endure a ‘time of compromise.’

And that compromise, apparently, has everything to do with slaughtering my twin image on the other side of The Fall.

At my birth, an Allurest—a seer who can comprehend your path—told my parents that I was but half. That was unheard of. Well, at least it was never openly spoken of in the Hermetic Realm where I was born.

Not long after I reached what they call adolescence, my mother sent me here. Not as an outcast, but because she saw her father in me. She saw Tarek in me. My grandfather leads this guard of The Fall. He leads The Selected, and he has done so for an age beyond eternities.

That’s right. Time here is measured, if measured at all, by eternities. Once our bodies claim adulthood, we age slowly, extremely slowly, unlike the dark reality.

I was welcomed with open arms to this palace, this border. The Allurest here neither agreed nor disagreed with what my parents had heard, nor the interpretation of my crest.

Basically, they said I had a twin image. I was light—he was not—and I would stop him from destruction. How was never specified, but as far as I was concerned that was merely semantics. I would have to stop my twin before I could ever think of having a life of my own. I had to strip the bond between us. That would end my ‘time of compromise.’

The time that will or should occur is unknown as of yet. I watch him, though. I have seen him do horrid things. I can’t explain how hard it is to witness your image bringing hardship and pain to others and not intervene.

That pull, that urge that says the time is now, I must go–that gaze from the Allurest that agrees—has yet to come. So, I wait. I teach. I help others move through this barrier. I make sure they return, and I destroy the evil that tries to pass through with each opening of The Fall.

The Fall used to always remain open; there was a constant current of souls moving through, a constant balance and lessons learned. Then The Fall began to close for a few hours each day. That was long ago. Now, normally it only opens every twelve hours. We only pass through or send others through when the sun and moon are in balance; that is the safest time.

That time is fast approaching. Dawn is not far from the horizon.

Seneca, the Allurest that stands at my grandfather’s side, told me once that lavender waters will awaken my mind and bring forth thoughts of trepidation and that I will seek to appease that emotion on an epic level. Nothing promising there. I have no choice but to believe her, though; her name, in effect, means river. She’s named well because without a doubt, even at her youthful age, she can see the rivers of all life, more so than most Allurest.

I stare at these emerald waters every day, watching the gleam of light, wondering how literal Seneca had meant to be, if that would be my sign that life was about to begin. That I would charge the agony head on and find bliss on the other side.

Rat-a-tat-tat.

“Are you ever going to finish that beat?” a smooth baritone voice said.

I glanced to my side to see Guardian standing there. The glowing emerald sea had cast a shadow over his luminous blue eyes.

“Ah! My favorite little Allurest,” I quipped.

He offered a smug grin in response. Allurest were all female. I only jested because of the visions he had confided to me. He could read intent, or something like that. Basically, he could tell you where you were heading, and unless you changed your path on your own free will, he was never wrong.

“Takes one to know one,” he shot back.

It was a fair blow. The reason this was my post, the reason I was selected to train him was that I could read tracers—lines of energy attached to the souls. I saw where they had been, what they had learned. I could also gaze forward and witness time at a backward pace in the dark reality. I saw the effect, then the cause, which in a roundabout way taught me to worry long before there was a need. It’s not fun knowing the ending first, seeing the pitfalls that bring souls to that end.

If I really focused—or, well, cared to look—I could see the pasts of those around me, too; their perception of it anyway. I heard through others that all five of us that had this specific crest had a gift along the same lines. Apparently, it varied a bit from person to person, but all in all it elevated us in the eyes of our people, put us up there in the way the Allurest were seen. When we trained, we not only worked on using our energy and strengthening our souls, but also honed in on that additional sense.