Brian Rathbone: The Dawning of Power

As she approached the stumps and grisly remains, she winced, but the energy drew her on. A few mighty trunks still lay where they had fallen, as if waiting for some use to present itself. When she reached the center of the black stone, she realized it did not look as terrible as when she had seen it last. Wind and rain had cleaned away the powdery grit, and now the black stone, though pocked, had begun to regain some of its luster.

Sitting with a crater between her crossed legs, she dug the tip of her staff into the stone. Holding her staff in one hand and Koe in the other, she closed her eyes and relaxed. In her mind, she traveled to the grove of the past and located the visual representation of her center amid the mighty greatoaks. Suffused by the energy around her, Catrin could feel the trees. She could see them and touch them. To her, they were still real, still alive. As she leaned forward, she had the strange sensation of moving downward, as if her staff were sinking into the stone. She kept her eyes closed, not wanting to leave her state of consciousness.

Dryads peeked around each of the trees in her mind, and they sang to her. There were no words, only melodies, but they were rich and delicate, like the tinkling of a fine bell over the sound of pounding surf, backed by the whisper of the wind through leaves. Birds sang their varied songs, somehow in harmony with the dryads, as if nature itself were playing her a chorus.

A feeling of security enveloped her, and she was washed with the relief of tension she hadn't even known she'd been holding on to. No one could touch her here; no one could harm her. She was safe. It was not something she could tell herself; her body had to believe it before she could truly relax. The physical world vanished from her senses, supplanted by the world of energy and possibilities. For a time, Catrin simply bathed herself in its warmth. No concerns pulled at her focus, no worries drained her energy. Here, she was perfect.

Slowly she began to process her thoughts. As always, some were painful, others whimsical. She dealt with her feelings and emotions and was left with only questions of practicality. How would she convince people they needed to learn to live underground? History and Nat's visions agreed. There had already been times when man had to retreat within the land, and Catrin knew she must succeed.

Though she thought she had cleared her mind and dealt with all her worries, an ugly, gnawing fear rose to the surface: Prios. Already she had feelings for him, and she suspected he felt much the same, but she had promised herself. After using her powers to heal herself, she'd sworn she would never have children. How could she take away from Prios the ability to pass on his line? How could she ever explain to him? Would he understand?

Suddenly, her calm and relaxing place became a maelstrom of anxiety. Then something, which felt like being tucked in by one you love, washed over her and brought calm. Everything would be as it should. She now knew what she must do.

With a course charted, she felt the anxiety drain away as if it had never been. The decision put her in a receptive frame of mind, and images began to spring forth, seemingly from the nothingness.

She saw a great hall and an underground complex capable of supporting thousands. Instead of a spooky and forbidding place, she began to see it as a thriving microcosm, a miniature ecosystem tucked inside the safety of a mountain. No longer was the hidden lake little more than a curiosity to her; it was a place where they could stock fish. She pictured underground farms fed water and fertilizer from the lake. The vision of her new home gave her great pride, though she had yet to do the work. She would; she knew she would. Seeing it here, in this world of energy, was as good as it being, and it brought tears to her eyes.

Resolved, she felt herself relax even further, and it felt as if, once again, her staff sank lower into the stone. Deep, rhythmic breathing propelled her from one moment to the next, and finally her mind was quiet, free of conflict. The song of nature took on new layers of beauty as it rose to a thrilling crescendo, and Catrin let herself ride the enchanting melody.

The feeling she was being watched made her look about, and not far away, she saw the mental wall that separated her conscious and subconscious minds. Light streamed through the hole, which was now significantly larger, and for a moment Catrin became alarmed. Then from behind a mighty greatoak stepped what looked like a goddess in the flesh. She came, and Catrin gazed upon her own subconscious with awe.

"You are ready now."

"Who are you?" Catrin asked, terrified because she already knew the answer.

"I am you. I am Catrin. Perhaps, to avoid confusion, you would like to call me Elma?" her alternate self asked with a knowing smile.

Catrin's fear was overcome, finding humor and ease in its place. "All right, Elma. I have been afraid of you because I don't want to go insane or hurt anyone. And… there is something else…"

"I know," Elma said. "I cannot tell you what mysteries lie ahead, for I do not know, but I can assure you that I will do no harm. History does not always repeat its mistakes. If you do not trust life, then your line is condemned either way. Whether you choose to have children whose own children might die terrible deaths or if you decide the risk of passing on a deadly trait is too great, the result will be the same. Only if you give life an opportunity will there be a chance."

Elma's cold but practical logic penetrated Catrin's mind, and she came to see truth in it.

"You are ready now."

"Ready for what?"

"Shirlafawna gave you a gift. It was left in my keeping, and now I present it to you. You are ready."

"I remember Shirlafawna's gift," Catrin said, confused. "After I talked with her, I could see the other dryads."

Elma laughed. "That gift you gave yourself. You took a great risk when you chose to believe. Seeing the dryads was a reward you made for yourself."

Catrin sat in wonder, waiting with unbridled anticipation, as Elma approached. In her hands she held a globe of orange light that pulsed from within. Holding it to Catrin's forehead, Elma pressed with her delicate fingers, and the globe began to slide forward. Warmth and understanding flowed through Catrin. The globe entered her and became a part of her, albeit a part she was yet to comprehend. Her staff thrummed under her fingers, and a wave of power washed over her. Invigorated and charged, Catrin felt as if she'd been made anew.

"We must prepare now," Elma said, and Catrin did not have to ask for what. Visions filled her mind, images of death and destruction for all mankind. "We cannot allow this to happen."

Catrin nodded, and as she did, Elma walked between the greatoaks and gradually faded until she could be seen no more. Slowly, Catrin's awareness of her physical body returned, and she opened her eyes only to find near complete darkness. Only the blush of the false dawn gave any hint of shape or form, but then the sun peeked above the mountains. Fingers of light caressed the land, and Catrin felt the warmth on her face. Around her the world sang of a new day, a new chance for life. When she focused closer, finally seeing the staff before her and a serpentine tail wrapped around her, she gasped.

Kyrien met her eyes as she craned her neck to see. His eyes sparkled with inner light and excitement, and he nudged her back to the staff. There, she found a treasure beyond any reckoning or expectation. Shirlafawna's gift was in the form of life. From the staff sprouted fresh, green growth, and under each voluminous leaf, was a tiny, golden acorn. Twenty-four in all, there were enough to replant the entire grove. Catrin's heart sang. The fates had been kind to her, allowing her the chance to undo one of her greatest mistakes.