Through The Looking Glass
The first instalment in the Heritage series.
As the dark of night settled in, an explosion echoed through one of the grim alleys of San Francisco, as a dark haired male evaded a fireball, allowing it to scorch the wall behind him.
"I always thought the goal was to hit your targets," he quipped as he shook the dust off his clothes. "Obviously not," he taunted.
The demon, as many demons, was clad in leather and had a large black tribal marking on his left cheek. He clenched his rotting teeth and, in a desperate attempt to regain his pride, generated another fireball.
He withdrew his arm to give it more thrust, and chucked it towards the brunette. The witch's eyes widened as he felt the heat elevate as it moved rapidly towards his face. He turned away from the flame and was abruptly engulfed in a pale blue light, followed by bright blue orbs. He missed the fiery by moments.
The blob of fluorescent blue flew over the demon's bald head and solidified itself paces behind the evil entity. Lucas Halliwell's eyes were still open in fear, but he had to keep up the illusion of courage. After years of battling evil he knew that the dark forces could always sense panic. He shook his black hair around before re-engaging in combat.
"That's more like it," he said.
Retracting his own hand, he allowed flames to fill up his entire arm before lunging the flames towards the demon. On impact he fell backwards, causing an enormous amount of sound as his huge body hit the dry ground. Flames swallowed his body, Lucas put his hand up to his face in an attempt to block the heat his vanquish was causing. Moments later the flames died down, leaving only dust.
"Is he gone?" a shaky voice asked from behind the young witch.
Lucas spun around, his cascading hair following, to see a terrified young blonde girl emerge from behind the colourless dumpster, her hair was messy and a line of blood was streaming from her button nose.
"Yeah," Lucas answered before walking down the dark alley and leaving the innocent in solitude.
Ignorance is bliss Lucas thought. Although he always saved lives, he was a timid soul and never found it in him to engage with his innocents, so he came to the conclusion that 'the less you know, the better.'
He jumped out of the alleyway's exit and began strolling down the vacant lane. The pitch black clouds that haunted the previously blue skies repelled the population of San Francisco, it made Lucas content. Flooded streets made him feel self-doubting and out of place. His thoughts were company enough for him.
Lucas had never fully understood, or embraced his powers, nor did he want to. He just wanted to lead a normal life, but he seemed to always be in the wrong place at the wrong time; conveniently in the middle of a demonic attack. Almost as if destiny had been pulling him in, forcing him to embrace his destiny.
His thoughts were cut short by the rain that had begun to fall onto his pale cheeks. The skies were opening and preparing themselves to unleash their rage. One building, sitting conveniently in front of him, was lit up with bright orange lights and the tacky sign above the door read: "Magic Shop. Fortune telling, potion ingredients and spells."
Destiny should be more subtle he thought.
He felt drawn to it and as the rain fell harder he moved faster.
The magic shop's door flung open as he approached it, revealing an elderly Gypsy wearing a mauve robe and a jade turban. The woman was silent and beckoned Lucas inside with her weak fingers. Lucas conceded and crossed the threshold.
The air was heavier inside and a strong smell of incense hung in the air. All the surroundings appeared to be very mystical and antique; lavender candles graced the dull surfaces and crystals surrounded the room. He said nothing once he had entered and was even considering walking out of the door, regretting having ever came.
"Do not be afraid, my dear," the Gypsy said, acknowledging Lucas' puzzled expression. "You were sent here for a reason."
The elderly woman made a hand gesture towards the seat opposite to her own. Lucas accepted and sat down.
She placed her hands in the centre of the wooden table allowing a red sweep of light to emanate from them, taking the form of a crystal ball. Powder white columns of smoke filled the orb, morphing into one of the many halls of Golden Gate High school; the school Lucas had frequented.
[x]
The halls of Golden gate high school were bustling as always, students speed walking through the never-ending hallways desperate to get to their next class, constantly bumping into one another.
One student, Lucas Halliwell walked calmly down the corridor, his hands placed in his pockets. He stopped at his locker, tapped his password on the touchpad, and watched as it flung open. Placing his hands inside he retrieved his chemistry books before heading towards the school bathrooms.
The school bullies, Flynn and John were sitting on the sinks smoking Nabo, a new drug discovered in the late thirties. They immediately spotted Lucas and both smiled deviously.
Flynn jumped off the sink and landed not-so-gracefully on the floor. John followed.
"Hey there," he said falsely, smoking the last of his cigarette in Lucas' face. "What's a mofo like you doing in my bathroom?".
Lucas tried to ignore him and walk straight towards the cubicle, but was cut off when Flynn pushed his books onto the floor.
"Whoops!" he said, a grin growing across his acne covered face. "Maybe you can get your dead parents to help you clean that up," he whispered tauntingly, moving too close to the Halliwell.
Anger. That's all that he felt from that moment onward. Angry at himself for giving them a chance to say something like that. Angry at them for getting him down for the past and angry at his parents for dying in a car crash all those years ago.
One second is all it took. One second that changed his life forever. He began to turn red, the bullies found this amusing but immediately backed away when his eyes were polluted by a black fluid.
"Much better," he said, his voice echoing in the small bathroom. He raised his arms allowing a dark flame to flow from his palm and onto the bullies. Its power caused them to stumble backwards. Their skin began to crust over as it burned.
The red aura that surrounded Lucas' eyes faded away, leaving the baby blue eyes that had graced his face minutes before. The fire disappeared and was replaced by a bright, golden light that surrounded the unconscious ones and caused the deep cuts and burns to slowly dissipate.
The beam faded leaving Lucas with his regular pale hands. He looked down at them and noticed that they were shaking uncontrollably. His eyes moved on to the unconscious bullies that were on the floor.
[x]
"What you didn't know, Lucas," said the Gypsy as the columns of mist swirled and the bathroom vanished "is that a greater power was watching over you that day."
"Greater power?" Lucas asked, placing his crossed arms on the round table as he squinted his eyes curiously.
"Yes. A power that you are still to young to understand, but when you're ready they will reveal themselves to you," she told him, quenching part of his curiosity, but causing more confusion in his mind. "Now, lets see what else the crystal has to show," she said, waving her hand over the orb, disrupting the mist once more.
[x]
Rain fell violently to the ground as the 13 year-old witch stepped out of the yellow taxi. Everyone was running home to their loved ones, trying to keep dry, everyone but Amber who stood on the pavement, staring up at her Grams' old Victorian house.A boom of thunder heralded a bolt of lighting and rain continued to fall. But none of this bothered the young witch, after what she'd been through, a bit of thunder was the least of her plodded up to the door, with a bright blue suitcase in one hand, and rang the doorbell. She wiped the runny mascara from her pale face and waited patiently on the front porch for her Grandmother to arrive.
The shabby old house brought back tons of memories for the young witch, one of the relevant ones she remembered was when she was little. She always used to look forward to her Grams' visits; she adored her, and even nicknamed her "Gigi", which stood for Gorgeous Grandma. She hadn't visited her Grandma in a while, mostly because of family issues and as she waited on the colourless porch, she regretted door creaked open and an elderly Phoebe Halliwell stood at the doorway, her eyes opened in shock as she saw her granddaughter sobbing on her front porch. Without hesitating, Phoebe gently brought her descendant inside with her.
[x]
Later that night, Phoebe took her granddaughter into her stylish living room and sat her down on her couch. The old witch had always been an empathic person, even without her powers and as she sat beside her distraught grandchild she decided it best to do some snooping before interrogating.
Faint jingles filled Phoebe's mind as she tapped into her empathic abilities and delved into the pits of Amber's emotions. The old witch shot back as the emotions she felt overwhelmed her. Anger being the main one. She knew that anger was a difficult emotion and could have magical consequences if not controlled.
The sixty something witch stroked her granddaughter's long brown hair with her thin brittle fingers, in an attempt to comfort her. Bucking up the courage, Phoebe asked ,"Sweetie, what's wrong?".
Amber swung her head to the other side, escaping her Grandma's delicate grip. Phoebe decided not to insist too much, but to soothe Amber into it. "Honey, talk to me. I can help."
Amber turned her head back round, staring at her Grams with her sparkling eyes. She commanded herself not to cry, but even she couldn't stop the dry lump that continued to grow in her throat. She breathed in and began to speak - or at least began to try to speak.
"My… Dad… Found… Out," she whispered.
"Found out what?"
"That I'm a mutant," she said, lowering her head, avoiding her Grandma's gaze.
Phoebe's serious look disappeared as soft laughter occupied the void. Confusion hit Amber hard and fast as she lifted her head up, her expression doing the inquiring for itself.
"I always knew this day would come," Phoebe stated, pride shining in her eyes.
Amber shook her head, unable to wrap her head around the information. "What do you mean?" she inquired, brushing her wet hair out of her face.
"You're a witch."
If anyone else had told her that, she would have shot them down immediately, but this was her Grams; her beloved, trustworthy Grams. The person who unofficially raised her. She trusted her with her life, she had to trust her now.
As she began to think, everything seemed to come together like pieces of a puzzle. Being a witch would explain everything. After a few long minutes of staring at her green Converses she looked up.
Phoebe knew she'd understand, after all she was a Halliwell. A direct descendant of the great Charmed one, Phoebe Halliwell. The strained silence came to an end when Amber said, "Tell me more."
Amber had always been surprising; an underdog, if you may. But this time, she didn't surprise Phoebe at all. She might of, had Phoebe not been monitoring her emotions during Amber's little think.
"Why tell, when I can show?" Phoebe said, showing her wisdom teeth through her wide grin.
Phoebe raised herself from her tasteful sofa and put her inviting hand out to Amber. The naïve witch accepted. The twosome paced up the stairs and into Phoebe's Altar room.
Inside, the moonlight seeping through the colour stained windows illuminated a glorious replica of the legendary Book Of Shadows and it's mahogany stand.
Amber stared at the emerald green tome, secretly begging to open it.
[x]
"Wait. Is that Phoebe Halliwell; my great aunt?" Lucas asked, staring at the orb as the image of the girl and her Grams began to fade away leaving, yet again, the white mist.
"I'm here to show you information, Lucas. I was sent by a much higher power, the highest power, not answer all your questions and send you on your way but to help you discover who you truly are. You must find these people. Know them. Connect with them." she said, her voice not failing once to present a feeling of mystery.
Lucas put his head down as if trying desperately to put the very irregular puzzle pieces together, until he noticed the mists glowing once more, forming what seemed to be a cemetery.
[x]
A teenager and his mother stood over a brown coffin. The lady was wearing a black jacket and was wiping her tears away with a bleach white handkerchief. The teenager however, looked stronger and tried desperately not to break down in front of his mother, tears however broke through his mental barrier, advancing down his face.
The two watched as the mahogany coffin sunk into the ground, disappearing into nothing. The mother couldn't bear to watch and covered her eyes with her handkerchief. This was the most painful day of both of their lives, although the cancer had taken a while to eventually kill the deceased man in front of them, actually accepting the fact that he was gone was one million times worse.
Later on, they stayed behind after everyone else went back to the house, the mother, Sarah, stared at the gravestone and read the epitaph: "Beloved husband and dedicated father". Although the inscription was put there to honour the deceased, it hurt the most reading it and pierced Sam Taylor's heart.
He was always close to his dad and already missed him a lot. It was hard for his father to accept the fact that he was married to a witch, but he always respected both of them, and treated them with as much love as he would have anyone else.
The mists swirled once more changing the scene and revealing a modern apartment, the columns of mist formed, one by one, a crowd of people, all clad in black. Some were crying, others were whispering politely.
Sarah was weeping up in her room, after begging to remain in solitude, with only her thoughts as company. The door creaked open, revealing Sam, still clad in his black suit, he had a piece of paper in his hand, but smoothly placed it in his pocket as he entered.
"Mom?" he said as he entered, his voice uncertain.
Sarah wiped her tears away, trying to make herself presentable. "Come in," she said, her voice still affected by the lump that grew in the bottom of her throat.
His mother lifted her eyes up and looked at her son, he looked distracted but concerned. "You have got to stop worrying about everyone else." she said, moments later looking over at the bottle of liquor bottle that sat on her bedside table. She had been trying to resist temptation for so long, but now she wanted her problems to disappear more than ever.
"That will only make things worse," Sam advised, worrying about his unstable mother.
"Oh yeah, then what will?" she replied furiously. She exhaled loudly, regretting her snappy answer, "I'm sorry.. I'm just having… a bad time."
"I think I can help," he said. His mother looked up, confused.
"And how would you do that?" She asked, raising her eyebrows and tilting her head to the side in curiosity.
Sam quickly whispered something through his teeth. An eerie wind whistled through the room, wrapping itself around his mother, she became immobilized. Sam looked concernedly at his frozen mother but carried on with what he was doing. He extracted the scrap of paper out of his pocket and began reading it's contents.
"Release my mother from her pain,
In time let her regain
Her emotion baggage far too immense,
Let her life recommence "
[x]
"So, what do I do with this?" Lucas inquired once the mists were fully withdrawn, leaving an empty sphere. The Gypsy smiled, and then slowly faded away, leaving an empty shop. Lucas slowly lifted himself up. He walked over to the entrance of the magic shop, and looked over his shoulder as though acknowledging the shop for a moment, then walked outside.
The crystal illuminated itself once more, and the previously white mists were now a shade of light blue. A face began to appear inside the sphere, taking the form of the Angel of Destiny. She smiled triumphantly at the still shaking door, before dissipating back into the crystal's depths.
If you want to see a chapter two, review.
Yes, it rhymes.