Jarrod
My body feels like it's full of lead as I halfheartedly walk the distance to some nearby shacks with smoke billowing out of their roofs.
Maybe I can find someone who will help me, I think desperately as I near the front door of one of the shacks.
I knock on the rotted wood nailed hastily to its frame. Feet shuffle behind it and I hear someone wheeze and cough. The door creaks open slowly revealing a tiny wrinkled old woman. Her knotted gray hair is strewn about her head and face as if she just walked through a tornado. Her eyes are pale gray with a glaze over them.
"Who is it?" she barks hastily, gliding a walking stick in a semi-circle around her feet. Her blind eyes flit around in every direction.
"Hello," I say slowly, clearing my throat as I shift my weight from foot to foot.
"What do you want?" she asks gruffly as she brings her stick to a halt.
"I need answers," My voice cracks slightly under the weight of fleeting hope, "about a man named Rhauk."
Anger has vanished from her visage as utter terror fills those unseeing eyes. Swiftly, she backs away from me into the house.
As her old hands wrap around the edge of the door, her gaze is set firmly onto my face. It's as if she's peering straight into my soul.
"All I can tell you is that he cannot be defeated. That's the only answer you'll get from me."
With that, she slams the rickety old door in my face. I swallow the lump in my throat and slowly walk away to a nearby river. I check to see if anyone from the shacks is outside, but no one is around. Pulling off my dirt encrusted clothes, I stare at my nakedness in the reflection of the water. Large bruises look like purplish green clouds against my pale skin. Red welts from the wasps dot my arms and neck, leaving painful scars. These wounds are evidence of my vulnerability.
I try to rid myself of these thoughts by busying myself with a quick dip in the river. After rubbing my hands gingerly over my broken skin with the cool water, I suddenly get the sense that I'm being watched. Suddenly a piercing squawk tears through the atmosphere. Monstrous gray claws clasp my upper arms. My feet drag briefly across the river until I am being lifted high above the spinning Earth. Glancing up at my captor, I see a million black feathers that belong to an enormous raven. I turn my head to the direction we are going and it's only a matter of seconds before the eerie castle comes into view.
Kate
Jillian and I pour over a hundred spell books, but we can't find anything that talks about what happened in my room. I absentmindedly let my fingertips graze the spot where the burning wound occurred as I hopelessly flip from page to page with my other shaking hand.
There has to be something, I think fiercely as I slam one of the books shut.
"To the library, child!" Jillian calls out from the other side of our study, "We need a computer."
We both take off in her car and travel the winding road down our hill. I can't help but stare piteously at the spot where Jarrod crashed into the ditch. Jillian looks over and sees the lost look on my face. She reaches over and clasps my wrist.
"We'll figure this out, Kate."
"Do you think we can visit Jarrod today?" I ask with tears in my eys.
"Why yes, of course," she soothes letting go of my hand.
Once we're inside the library, I hop into a swivel chair and start typing swiftly. I enter a few key words about hallucinations, wounds, and magic into the search engine. Most of the sites talk about mental illness, how to provide basic first-aid, and card tricks until I come across this one webpage. It's called Secrets of Realms.
I scan through an article entitled "Flesh Manifestations" that reads:
"Hallucinations and physical symptoms of flesh wounds may indicate that we have been attacked in another realm. Realms coexist with our own, though we may not always be aware of them. People who practice magic are more aware of these realms and therefore more in tune with their roles outside of their current conscious state. Pay close attention if dreams of being hurt or attacked are accompanied with a flesh manifestation. These dreams serve as guides as to what may be happening to you in another realm!
Flesh manifestations can also be symptoms of a curse. Curses are, in essence, a ripple effect. They affect everyone in some way, shape, or form. Also, they never truly die. Curses can be reincarnated if the magic is strong enough…especially old magic. Curses transcend realms and can be regenerated by using people as vessels. Even if the creator of the curse dies, the curse may still run its course because family members of the same bloodline are still living. The curse can literally be entwined with DNA.
Defeating a curse requires the purest and strongest magic. One must destroy the DNA or living thing that possesses and transmits the curse. This can be tricky as one must find the original source of the curse, either the creator or first victim."
The baby kicks after I read the last sentence. I know what I have to do.