Prologue
Dusk Malveya's POV
16th of March, 2021
I find myself gingerly standing in the same spot I always do in my dreams.
I'm standing on the cliffs of La Push Reservation, feeling the cold winds and icy waters spraying dangerously close to my face. I inhale a sharp breath, inflating my lungs with the eternal chilliness of my home. My dark, shoulder-length curls cascade over my bare shoulders whilst my eyes explore the rabid waves and rocky earth below. My vision is hazy, grey and gloomy; and behind me, the shadowy surroundings of the forest are disarrayed.
"Dusk," Her voice pierces the sound of the roaring ocean and I turn around obediently.
I meet her gentle, hazel eyes as she saunters forwards. Sunlight illuminates her olive skin and she smiles as she emerges from the depths of the forest I dare not venture into. She wears her billowing, sky-blue dress–the very gown I've grown accustomed to seeing in this wondrous dreamland–made of silken fabrics and woven lace.
I dash towards her as soon as she appears and her smile brightens.
She opens her arms, beckoning me forward in a sisterly fashion, and I relax my heavy head upon her shoulder. Engulfing me in her protective embrace, she remains strong when I feel like nobody else is. The tears I've been withholding in reality begin to cascade in my dreams. I begin to uncontrollably wail, trembling with dread, as she smooths her fingers over my hair, holding me close.
"It's alright, Dusk," She whispers as I breathlessly sob.
"I can't do this!" I splutter, consumed by pitiful anxiety. "I can't leave Forks. I can't go tomorrow."
The wind whips around us and, when she pulls away to look at me, I see familiarity in her affectionate eyes. She cups my face with her hands and wipes my flushed cheeks clean of tears with her thumb. "You are strong enough; I believe you can do this. So do Saffron, Maurice and Aria – as well as your brothers and grandparents."
"What if I let them down? What if I lose my job? I'm their last chance! I can't b-breathe, Zahlia."
"Dusk, listen to me, you can do this," Zahlia sternly states, staring deep into my watery eyes, and I swallow back the sobs escaping my lips. "You'll get on that plane, you'll live your life in Colorado, and you'll be happy."
"I'm their last chance..." I trail off hopelessly and gaze out towards the endless, ominous seas.
"Dusk, don't distrust yourself with this opportunity! You are unlike any other human in this sad, dreary town; you have passion and spirit in your heart. Your desire for adventure has been starved too long. You're not trapped; you're scared of leaving this gilded cage and plummeting to the ground. You're afraid that you cannot fly in this world all alone and that's a pointless fear."
"Grandma Aisha says our kind is a fearless race...and so why do I feel like such a worrier?"
"You are!" She laughs musically. "But you must decide what kind, Dusk. Are you worrier, someone who cowers from the escape and clings to the borders of this wearisome town? Or are you a warrior, someone who tackles their fears with an unyielding spirit and flies with a force far stronger than wings?"
I frown, unable to understand her strong-willed words. "I...I don't get what you mean."
She smiles, her eyes knowing and her expression peaceful. "You will, perhaps when you settle into your job in Colorado. Maybe you'll understand who you are when you don't have anyone to help you."
"I know who I am, Zahlia, I've known for a long time now and that's why I have to go. People are counting on me–people have always been counting on me–and I won't let them down, I can't possibly. This job in Colorado will solve my family's financial problems and I'm glad of that at least," I answer resolutely.
Zahlia nods. "I know you're torn, Dusk, and I'm sorry. But you know you don't need your family's encouragement, you don't need my support, and you don't even need to consider other options. You know this is right; you know you have to leave Forks, for everyone's sake. Staying here...letting the walls of this town close in on your spirit...well, it's such a waste of rare passion. Maybe this adventure will release the inner magic I'm positive you have."
"It's not me who has the magic! In fact, it's my sister. Aria turns sixteen in ten weeks, she should be blooming soon, and her Doveblood magic will surface and she'll become the current Amaranth of the African bloodline. I hope I can still support her, even though we'll be States apart," My chest aches with disappointment and sorrow.
The magic always falls upon the second daughter for a one reason, so the first daughter can protect and bear the duty of guiding her younger sister with ease. Over generations of Dovebloods, the 'first daughter' has evolved into a protector and guardian of the magic. These guardians are called Fai: meaning 'first born', and there is always a Fai born before an Amaranth.
Fais have a little more magic than the average Doveblood, though far less than the Amaranth and she wields her gifts to help protect her sister from harm. A Fai would give her life if it meant saving the Amaranth, for Amaranths spread the seasons over the globe with their magic. Without them, we would not have steady weather.
Now–being forced to move from Forks, as well as my little sister–I'm leaving Aria vulnerable to the merciless, immortal evils of this world. Leaving an Amaranth unprotected is dangerous; they are rare creatures, even among Dovebloods. Dovebloods who hold little power compared to those who reside in the veiled Kingdom of Treya in Nepal. Only Amaranths may cross the threshold of Treya.
Zahlia's eyes leave mine and she looks out towards the cloudy horizon of my dreams. I feel my warm breath caressing the cold air around us and–as an icy breeze whisks my corkscrew locks away from my shoulders–the Cliffside's howling winds leave stinging, frosty kisses down my neck. Zahlia's expression is absentminded and her tone sombre when she finally replies, "Your sister will make a good Doveblood."
I frown at her solemn, thoughtful remark. "Of course she will, I'm sure of it! And she won't just be a Doveblood like the rest of the females in my family, she'll be an Amaranth: the most powerful magic-wielder of the African bloodline. She'll go to Treya, our kind's homeland, and she'll meet the Goddesses. She'll have a lot of responsibilities, but she'll be amazing with her gifts."
"Are you really sure, Dusk?"
"Why do you ask?" I murmur uncertainly.
Zahlia shifts her gaze from the horizon and smiles at me, though her striking eyes aren't filled with their usual warmth. She seems withdrawn and my emotions are clouded with worry. Zahlia has always been so definite about everything and now she seems so frightfully doubtful? "Do you think Aria will make a good witch?"
The question pierces me and I release a sharp breath, feeling an underlying panic simmer. "Zahlia, you are a mere reflection of my subconscious that visits me in times of unease. I've Googled it and all! I've accepted that over the years and I guess I've grown fond of this neutral, passive place. But if you feel unsure about Aria's potential with magic, then so do I...and I don't. My sister was made for this."
For a moment, Zahlia appears hurt by my comment and her eyes descend to the ground. A spark of guilt ignites within me and I'm regretful. "A mere reflection of your subconscious, Dusk? That is science speaking and not magic, and you know better than that entirely. You must realise that I'm not just a reflection. If I were your 'mental mirror'...we'd appear the same!"
"Our features are similar. I mean, we look alike. I've noticed that since I was little."
"Yes, we do look alike," Zahlia smiles softly before sighing. "Dusk, I'm not a mirror and I'm certainly not your reflection. If I were, I'd feel like Aria would make an incredible Amaranth...because I know you think she will and I admire your faith in her. But, I'm sorry; I do not believe Aria will make a skilled witch. She is more human than Doveblood."
"Aria's the second Malveya daughter," I say without hesitation. "Her magic will bloom by her sixteenth birthday and I'll be in Colorado, raising children for a man I've never met. Unless my mother had an affair and birthed a daughter before Aria, I'm certain her mystical fate is sealed. And so is mine."
"You've always talked like you know your life's plan for certain, Dusk," Zahlia muses.
I shrug my shoulders nonchalantly. "I certainly do."
Zahlia's radiant warmth returns–her hazel eyes alight with fondness–and I'm glad to see the positive change in her demeanour. She lifts her chin confidently, our previous disagreement fading fast. "Well, I must go. And you must awaken for your journey tomorrow."
I groan at the thought of being released from this safe haven. "Do I have to wake up?"
"You know this is the right thing to do," Zahlia remarks wisely and I scowl in concurrence.
Zahlia pulls me into a loving hug and I feel the familiar sense of family from her. "Sometimes I wish you were real, Zahlia. I wish you could be there when I wake up and tell me everything's going to be okay," I murmur in tears and her embrace tightens. "I'm probably crazy for wishing that, right?"
Zahlia chuckles and pulls back to look at me, tears also in her eyes. "It's not crazy, it's human."
"But I'm not even human!" I laugh half-heartedly, my eyes downcast.
"You're human enough for me to be real, Dusk. I'm in your people's magic, in the love you have for your family, in the sacrifices you make and in the future you'll create. I'll always be watching over you, I promise. If you need guidance or advice, I'll be in your dreams," I nod gratefully and smile. "Oh...and, Dusk?" Zahlia puts her hands on my shoulders before proceeding back into the murky depths of La Push's woodlands. "Happy 21st birthday."
"Dusk!" A haze of reality slowly settles over my conscience and I'm jolted with the feel of someone's hands on my shoulders, shaking me awake. I long to remain lost in the dreamland–torn from the truth of my life–where I can't feel the pressure these hands on my shoulders are suffocating me with.
"Dusk?" Voices of the people I love flutter around me and yet my body instinctively fights the disturbance of peaceful slumber. A soft moan escapes my lips as I am dragged from the depths of sleep. I feel like I'm being plucked from the sea – fiercely yanked out of cool, harmless waters I blissfully drown in.
The surface is near as I hear my name being called a third time: "Dusk, wake up!"
My eyes blast open and I jerk upwards, hit with the unwelcomed glare of sunlight in my bedroom and the wonderful faces of my family. I glance around quickly as my eyes adjust and see my parents, my grandparents and siblings smiling down upon me. I memorise their happy, delighted faces and lock the snapshot into my memory.
They're more than worth the sacrifice, I think to myself and greet them with a hoarse voice.
"Good morning!" Aria, my little sister, chimes excitedly and grins. She gives me a long, loving hug which I gladly return. She sits perched on my creaky bed, her Spanish curls cascading over her shoulders like a cloak, her forest green-hazel eyes blazing with beauty and vigour.
"Happy birthday, sweetheart," My mother, as beautiful and elegant as Aria, smiles angelically and I glimpse a familiar warmth in her eyes. Mum's eyes are hazel, mixed with striking sky-blue tints. My eyes are hazel, too – amber and chestnut brown. "Dusk has the eyes of an autumn sunset!" My father, Maurice Malveya, will often say in Spanish: his native tongue.
"Thanks, Mum," I mutter as she sits next to Aria and plants a tender kiss on my cheek.
"I can't believe my baby girl's twenty-one already!" She laughs, a sound I never tire of hearing. Mum places her hands over mine; her dark skin is forever warm and soft. "You've grown into the most wonderful woman, sweetheart, I'm so proud of you."
"You can finally, legally get drunk!" My brother, Nathanael, pipes in with a glint of thrill in his eyes.
My grandparents, Aisha and Vincent McNamara, both gasp in horror and I smirk.
Nathanael's twin, Matthew, snorts with a roll of his eyes. "Dusk: drunk? No way! Aria maybe..."
"Would you two shut-up?" Aria chides crossly. "This is our big sister's day, so don't go being idiots!"
"Come on, you monkeys, give me a hug!" I laugh and my little brothers groan, ambling towards me with embarrassment etched across their boyish faces. My twin brothers are barely eleven and they've swooped into the stage where any show of affection is utterly forbidden from a boy's social life. It's hilarious and saddening at the same time, I think.
"Do we have to...?" Nathan whines while Matt grimaces.
Mum puts her hands on her hips. "Boys, give your sister a proper kiss and wish her happy birthday!"
"Dusk always gives you hugs whenever it's your birthday, kiddos," My dad adds matter-of-factly.
"We know, it's terrifying," Matt mutters under his breath.
"When did you become such smartasses?" Aria shakes her head disapprovingly. Matthew and Nathanael finally concede beneath my mother's stern glower, each giving me a small kiss on the cheek, mumbling congratulations for my 21st birthday whilst I suppress my amused laughter.
My brothers blush crimson when I joke, "Don't be so scared, monkeys! I saw you two being born; it was far less enjoyable then kisses and cuddles. Trust me. I'd take a 21st birthday rather than a birth any day. And I won't be getting drunk for my birthday, Nathan."
"Come on now; let the father of the birthday girl have a cuddle!" Dad bellows with a deep, rumbling laugh and pulls me into an overpowering bear-hug. Mum and Aria laugh as Dad kills me with a manly cuddle. Dad squeezes me tight, placing a kiss on my forehead, whispering happy birthday into my ear. Dad's thick accent and the constant fragrance of his cooking will always make me smile.
"Maurice, my son, don't kill the child!" Grandpa Vincent chuckles, his voice raspy from illness.
I breathe in my father's scent and enjoy the fresh, delicious aroma of baked bread which cloaks him. I close my eyes for a moment, my face buried in his work shirt, and realise this hug is more than happy birthday. Dad's never held me so closely, as if I'm going to vanish within moments, and I know this embrace is farewell. My flight departs Washington at midday and, according to the clock by my bed, I leave in five hours.
If I lose this job in Colorado, my family will be thrown out onto the streets. My parents are strong-willed, intelligent people – I love them and will forever appreciate the morals and self-respect they set within my personality. However, raising four children with so little money is straining and forces restrictions no family deserves.
Mum & Dad will do anything for my siblings. However, money is scarce, and there is only so much my mother's parents can do for us now that Grandpa Vincent is ill. Aisha and Vincent need to save their retirement money for medical bills and treatments. Mum and Dad are working even harder to stay afloat. My father is Chef at a restaurant in Port Angeles and earns a decent salary.
My mum runs a small store with Grandma Aisha in La Push, specialising in certain remedies and herbs we Dovebloods find heal the sick and poorly. Mum works with Sue Swan, a Quileute married to the Chief of Police in Forks. Sue and Charlie have five children between them, though I think I've only ever met their youngest son, Zachary. The Swans have always lived across the street from my family and we've grown up together, Zachary being Aria's age.
Mum, Grandma Aisha and Sue Swan make money...but a lot of people distrust the specific elixirs we produce from nature and the forest. My grandmother was raised by a tribe of skilled herbalists in Jamaica, however, her lack of legal qualifications reflects badly on her reputation around town.
My family has magic in their veins, a magic that must be concealed, and we cannot use this secret for personal gain. Dovebloods are a selfless, noble race and we cannot yield to the threat of poverty. Though, as I watch my family's financial demons inflicting their wrath, I've realised I can do more with myself than I believe.
I left college almost a year ago, returning home to Forks to help my family pay bills, tormented by an unfinished teaching degree and the weight of now working two shopgirl jobs on my shoulders. Sometimes, when my thoughts wandered aimlessly, I'd remember I'm willingly wedged in a rut I promised myself to escape years ago...and I long to flee this small, narrow-minded reality.
And yet where can I run? The guilt of knowing I'd leave my family behind in this torturous rut would shatter my heart, for the morals my parents have ingrained since childhood are the very same morals that keep me trapped here in Forks. However, as my routine of work and family gnawed at my sanity over the dreary months, I've realised I can escape and assist my family simultaneously.
My unfinished degree in education and child physiology has more of an impact on one's résumé than I first assumed. I've worked many jobs since my fourteenth birthday and my references are reasonably impressive. Grandma Aisha was the first to suggest working as a nanny.
Raising kids has always come naturally to me, especially since I've honed my maternal skills in through looking after my younger siblings while my parents worked long hours. Teaching/raising children while earning a better salary than most seems like a perfect job opportunity for someone like me. Becoming an English high school teacher, however, and living in New York City or London has always been my dream.
But I know this is the right thing to do and I'm willing to do it.
"Come on, Dusk," Mum says at last and beckons me from the confines of my comfortable, cosy bedroom. "Your father made you birthday breakfast and its waiting downstairs in the living room, sweetheart. Hurry up or your brothers will gobble it down before you have the chance."
"I'll be down in a sec; just let to get changed first."
"Oh, Dusk, can I pick out your outfit for the flight today? Colorado's fashion sense is so different to Washington's! Please, Sis?" Aria asks keenly and I concede without argument. My little sister's chic, graceful style is far greater than mine and I appreciate her assistance, especially since it is my first day at work in Colorado.
"Is this really necessary, Aria?" I squirm uncomfortably as Aria straightens my hair with a scorching hot instrument that burns and tortures your unruly curls into shiny, straight submission. I hear my curls fizzle, the aroma of burning hair product suffocating me, and I know my curls won't be very compliant for a while after this. My hair has a personality of its own; it tends to become very spiteful and deliberately hideous once I flatten out my corkscrews. "How long does it take to straighten hair?"
"It depends how curly one's hair is and, Sis, your hair is pretty damn curly!" Aria replies matter-of-factly and, in the mirror above the sink in our bathroom, I can see a focused determination in her eyes. "I don't understand why you stopped permanently straightening your curls anyway; it would be so much easier to handle then-"
"Don't say that in front of my hair!" I exclaim and, admittedly, a genuine look a horror strikes my features. "Do you want to see me coming home with dreadlocks these holidays? Because my hair won't let one bloody brush through it if you offend her curliness, she gets spiteful and vindictive and just plain ugly."
Aria snorts. "I guess I got Dad's hair then, it's not as African as yours."
"No, it isn't, you lucky thing!" I huff in annoyance. "Jeez, that'll make my hair angry."
"You've always matched these curls, Dusk, just like Grandma Aisha."
"I look like an old woman?" My eyebrows shoot up and I gasp mockingly. "I'm insulted, Sis!"
"You know what I mean!" Aria laughs. "Besides, Grandma Aisha is beautiful, just like Mum and you."
"Thanks," I mumble quietly.
"Dusk?" Aria's tone is timid and I frown at the sudden show of hesitance in her expression.
"What is it, Sis?"
"Do you think my magic will really blossom on my sixteenth birthday?"
"Of course it will," I say positively and an instant, radiant smile appears on my sister's face.
"I just...well, sometimes I feel like Mum and Grandma Aisha doubt me, you know? It's like you're the only one who thinks I can really become the Amaranth of our African bloodline. And sometimes I feel like I should believe them, that I'll really be hopeless with magic. I mean, I love nature and animals...just like any other Doveblood, but am I supposed to feel anything else as the Amaranth?"
I blink a few times as an odd, weighty silence descends upon us. "I don't really know, Aria. When your magic comes, you'll feel it and that's all I can really tell you right now. I don't know what it would really feel like to have that kind of power, but I'm sure it would feel like a very beautiful blessing."
"So, when I turn sixteen and my magic blossoms, I have to go to Nepal and train with other Amaranths and learn the elements of Doveblood magic from the Goddesses of Treya? I'll learn how to summon earth enchantments, then I'm claimed for one of the four seasons and that's it?" Aria's voice echoes around the tiled bathroom of our house. "I have to leave all of my family behind, all my friends, I even have to leave Jason?"
I raise an eyebrow. "Jason?"
"He's my boyfriend, Dusk," She responds and a glint of joy sparks through her hazel eyes.
"Another dashing, blonde senior on Forks High School Football Team I presume?"
"He. Loves. Me...and I-I love him, I think," Aria retorts defensively, avoiding my disdain, and I sigh.
"Aria, being the Amaranth requires sacrifices. I can't pick up the pieces whenever another boy breaks your heart and you feel like you've lost half your soul. Then, of course, you find another boy to obsess over and the pointless process of heartbreaking starts over. I'm going to be in Colorado, you know, and you can't bother Mum with this drama when we both know how stressed she already is."
"You know your problem, Sis? You've never fallen in love! You don't know what it feels like, do you?"
Aria unplugs her heat straightener and skilfully begins smoothing down my newly straightened hair. My warm, straight, black mane cascades over my shoulders and down my back. I don't have a fringe, so my sister clips back the stray strands spilling over my eyes. With straightened hair, I appear far older than twenty-one, mature and businesslike: exactly what an employer needs to see.
My unruly curls, so bittersweet with beauty, are tamed for the moment. But, as soon as water breaks down the barrier between my naturally wild curls and these abnormally straight tresses, my corkscrews will return with a vengeance. I ignore Aria's snide remarks about love and stand up, admiring her handiwork.
"Thank-you for doing my hair, I'm going downstairs to have breakfast. Are you coming, Aria?"
Aria opens her mouth to further her pestering about matters of the heart, but clamps her mouth shut once I give her a heated look that indicates my lack of patience at present. "Sure."
Don't be nervous, I think to myself, don't be nervous. Just breathe!
I anxiously nibble on my bottom lip, lost in contemplation. My bags are packed; my flight is payed for, and my family are happy for me. Isn't that all I need to leave? Isn't that good enough? I'm being a worrier: panicking about my nanny-ing job, panicking about Aria's magic, panicking about my parents' financial situation. After breakfast, which was as deliciously delectable as expected, Aria carefully selected my clothing for the flight. At present, I am comfortably dressed in a black pencil skirt, silver ballet flats and a lilac, button-up blouse with a hooded, grey coat. I feel quite professional, quite womanly, and I know I should seem as confident as this uniform presents me.
However, it's not until I hear my name being called that I realise I'm sweating bullets! I'm nervous, I'm worrying, and there's nowhere to possibly hide. "Dusk?"
I gasp at the sound of my father's voice and turn around, smiling. "Hey, Dad. Come sit."
He frowns, scrutinising me, and duly sits down on the grass in the backyard. He glances around, weaving his fingers through the lush greenery and sighs. It's 3pm and I shall be leaving home in forty-five minutes. I gaze upon the blooming garden my grandmother, mum, sister and I have created together.
The flowers and vegetables are healthy and radiant, as they have been for years. Dovebloods have the gift of nature; we essentially connect to the earth and feel most comfortable in an outside environment. Seeing these plants so fresh and vibrant makes me happy. "I'm going to miss this garden," I murmur after a while.
Dad seems to have expected my sentiments. "You witchy women raise good shrubberies." I laugh at his favourite word from Monty Python's hilarious film Holy Grail.
"Mum hates it when you call us 'witches'..." I say with a smirk. "It puts us into the same category as Dragonbloods then."
The Dragonblood order is the Dovebloods sworn enemies.
They are female sorceresses and necromancers who force themselves upon magic, defying the mortal laws of Earth and God, and use it for dark arts. Dragonbloods cast deadly spells and concoct potions with otherworldly elements, whereas Dovebloods extract remedies from the earth, using these natural components for the wellbeing of mortals. Dragonbloods are suffocated by darkness and consumed with desire for power.
They dwell in the shadows, often living in solitude, never acquainting themselves with others of their sinister kind. They tend to ally with Immortals, such as vampires and werewolves. I, myself, have never seen an Immortal before...but Dovebloods can sense their foreboding presence and I know how to defend myself against one.
The Doveblood race is far older than the Dragonblood. Our ethereal magic is inborn, throughout generations of women all over the world; some say God Himself bestowed us with the gift of enchantment. Dragonbloods take innocent lives without thought, without feeling, without reason. If a Doveblood were to take a mortal life, she would be condemned to immortality and stripped of her Doveblood gifts.
We exist humanely, we live and love and eventually die.
However, some immortal Dovebloods, the ones who have killed innocents and are now powerless immortals, they yearn for the magic they once had and are punished with starvation for something they cannot attain. Subsequently, in dire need of some sort of magic, they learn the dark arts and are claimed as immortal Dragonbloods. These are the darkest, cruellest and most powerful evil magic-wielders of the world.
They force themselves upon magic that does not want to be wielded. Immortal Dragonbloods are former, mortal Dovebloods who have lost the meaning of God and Earth and humanity. These monsters are called Vermillion and they share one, dangerous feature in common: piercing, venomous, emerald eyes.
Alas, no matter how much dark magic these former Dovebloods influence, it can never quench the everlasting thirst for the bond Dovebloods have to nature and animals. Grandma Aisha says that is punishment for those who take advantage of our God-given magic–to never feel the bond I now feel through my veins–she says that is torture enough for the heartless, ravenous Vermillion.
"I know, I love how she blows up about it!" Dad laughs, drawing me back from my shadowy thoughts, and I roll my eyes. "Everyone at Cafe Garden always say I bring in the best home-grown veggies. I'm proud to say my girls grew them with their tender, love and witchy care."
Cafe Garden is the restaurant my father works at in Port Angeles. "Well...you still have Gran, Mum and Aria to help you with gardening. And you could rope the twins in, too, if you had enough strength. I don't think they like the sun very much, though, they'd rather stay indoors and devise some ludicrous prank for our grouchy neighbours."
Dad nods sadly. "Things won't be the same without you, Chita."
Chita is short for Muchachita, meaning 'little girl' in Spanish, which has been my father's nickname for me since I can remember. Aria's always been referred to as Nenita (baby) because she's the baby girl of our family, even though the youngest child is Nathanael. Muchachita and Nenita have always been my father's daughters. My twin brothers are just 'kiddos'...or simply Nathan & Matt.
I restlessly fidget with the grass. "I'm really going to miss everyone here, but I need to go."
"I guess you know what's right for you, Chita. You are twenty-one after all."
"Ha, I have the birthday candle to prove it and all," I joke lamely.
There's a pregnant pause, my father's expression is unreadable, and I fear he's mulling over something serious. "Dusk," Dad's voice is gentle, beckoning my shy gaze. His eyes are dark brown and yet they are the softest eyes I've ever seen. They're always filled with such wisdom and understanding, something I love about him.
"Look, I know the women in my family are resolute and independent. When I fell in love with your mother, Chita, I didn't know she was a Doveblood. And then...when she told me, she became even more amazing in my eyes. I-I guess what I'm trying to say is that I want you to find a man who appreciates the magic within you and treats you, as well as this magic, with respect."
I throw my head back, laughing at my dad's earnest words. "Dad, I'm going to Colorado to work as a nanny. I'm not going husband hunting! Besides, I shouldn't be finding a man to start a family with when I need to look after the family I have now. And, honestly, I think this conversation should be for Aria. She's the Amaranth; she'll be the strongest magic-wielder in this family, maybe even her generation! Jamaicans descend from Africa and everyone knows Africa holds the reputation for strong magic."
My dad nods in agreement. "You're right, Chita, I will have to talk to Aria about this someday. But she's only fifteen, she likes going out with seniors on the football team for short periods of time and obsessing over celebrities with no talent and bad hairstyles. When I think about it seriously, I don't have to worry about Aria and her silly choices in boys. She may be naive, but she's not foolish and she won't do anything too stupid.
"But you're completely different to your sister, Chita. I know you won't admit it, but you gave your brothers and sister a childhood while you neglected yours. You grew up too fast–you tried to raise children when you were only a child–and maybe that was me and your mother's fault because we're at work so often. And I ask you to forgive us for that by the way. You've only ever dated a few times and...and I don't think you realise how, uh, attractive you are-"
"Whoa, Dad, stop! I get it, okay?" I exclaim, my cheeks flaming red. "Be careful around big boys."
"No, Chita, you're going into a world where not only boys will look at you and find you desirable. There will be men as well – men who will respect you and men who will try to take advantage of you. And, because you're in Colorado, I can't really protect you from those types of dishonourable men."
Dad still wants to protect me from those big, bad wolves with those gorgeous smiles and dazzling eyes? I think to myself and chuckle. "Dad, seriously. One of the perks of swiftly maturing: I can spot a bad man in a crowd of good ones. Besides, I have the kind of personality that repels guys. And I'm not as attractive as Aria: another reason you should be having this mortifying conversation with her instead of me."
"I just want you to be careful, you're not a muchachita anymore," Dad says worriedly, frowning. "You're a twenty-one-year-old woman with the world at your fingertips and the universe in your eyes. A lot can happen at this point in your life; a lot can happen to your head...and to your heart. You've always locked your heart away, Chita, but some men can still find it and they'll know just the right things to say."
"Dad, I'm becoming a nanny," I grin, patting him on the shoulder as reassurance. "I've gone to high school, college and now I'm embarking on the next stage in life. It's a schooling occupation, not anything vaguely to do with men! This job requires teaching skills, maternal instincts and the will to adjust. I'm not going to fall in love and I'm not going to let anyone take advantage of me. I promise."
Dad places a kiss on my temple. "Thank you," He whispers with a sad, solemn voice.
"For what...?" I frown incredulously, looking deep into his eyes.
"You know what for," He states flatly, taking my hands in his and giving them a light squeeze. "Thank you for making this sacrifice, for putting your family before you. Most your age wouldn't think twice about assisting their parents this way. You don't understand how incredible you are, Chita. One day, I hope, someone will make you understand and that person will love you even more than your mother and I do."
I blush and my eyes drop to my lap. "Dad, this is the right thing to do."
"But-" He begins and I quickly interrupt him before I shed any poignant tears.
"I'm the Fai of the Malveya family and African bloodline, Dad. Fais are the first daughters of Doveblood families and the protectors of Amaranths. These are the sacrifices I'm supposed to make for my family and for my people. I've grown up knowing my responsibilities, knowing the reason for my existence. I'm here to keep Aria safe when she finally blossoms. And, even though I'll be in Colorado, at least I'll be protecting her from poverty. I love you so much, Dad, and I am so proud to be what I am and who I am."
For a moment, Dad's eyes flash of an emotion I'm not expecting: guilt and regret. He gives my hands another squeeze and smiles, though his eyes aren't as soft. He looks guarded, troubled by something he can't voice to me. Finally, he speaks in Spanish, "Dusk tiene los ojos de un atardecer de otoño."
I instinctively translate his foreign speech and giggle. "I know, Dad, you tell me all the time."
And so I depart from my home in the forest.
I leave my family: so safe, loving and honest.
I leave the wind, the rain, the earth and snow.
I swiftly depart as a breeze starts to blow.
A storm brews as I flee this home in the forest.
I flee, my heart locked in my old bedroom's closet.
I am young, brave, foolish and so clearly naive.
I look to that forest and, for my home, I shall grieve.
Author's Note: Hello there, this is MEBS. I know I haven't seen my readers in a while (aka four months) and there's a terrible explanation. Well, unfortunately, I can't exactly tell you the reason...because it will ruin the storyline. However, letting the old DITD stay up and running will ruin the future of CBTS and the third instalment of the Dusk's Trilogy.
That, my readers, is why I must rewrite Dwelling in the Dusk and the minute portion of Chased by the Shadows. I will be rewriting thirty-five (or more) chapters...so forgive me if I seem a little anxious about my mission to refine, recreate and perfect the adventurous tale of Dusk Malveya.
You see, I have this strange attachment to Dusk Malveya and I cannot live another day of writing until I clean her storyline up and make it right! Dusk's been in my life since the beginning of 2012 and it is my obligation, as an author and the creator, to redefine the laws of DITD.
The old, tainted Dwelling in the Dusk will remain posted for a few more months until I see fit to remove it from my profile and make "current DITD" the sole story on my profile. Leah Clearwater's story, Me Te Aroha (With Love), which is a story that's slightly linked to DITD, will remain posted and I will continue posting as often as I can.
I hope you are all well and, I promise, this the first and last time I ask this of you guys.
Every writer loves feedback from her/his readers, so I'd really appreciate some reviews.