The Warrior Spirit

Eight

After a while of dwelling in my thoughts, I could finally bring myself to have the first bite of my porridge. And yes, I haven't had a taste of my meal for the past fifteen minutes. It had become so cold and unappealing. Yet, I managed to stuff my mouth with the yam porridge, unwilling to endure the rest of the lessons on an empty stomach.

"Hey, yo, Afreen, right?" came an unfamiliar voice from behind me.

I turned around, taking in the remarkably attractive form of a blond boy my age. I'd never seen him around here, and I could tell he was probably a transfer student, judging from the warm smile on his red lips as his ocean eyes locked with mine. He probably wouldn't be this friendly with me if he knew about the rumors going around.

"Afreen Khons," I introduced myself, outstretching a hand forward for a handshake. I began to notice some familiarity with him as he brought out his hand from his jeans pocket to shake mine.

"Khons?" he repeated, displaying a hint of shock that took me by surprise. "Like the Khons from the stories?" He shook my hand briefly before quickly returning his hand into his pocket.

My eyes narrowed in confusion as I tried to digest what he'd just told me. "I'm sorry, what?" I asked cluelessly, failing to understand.

"Aren't you a native? I mean, you're a Khons. Your family members are practically the founders of this town," he said, joining me at the table as he continued to stare at me curiously. "How could you not know about your own family's history?"

Great, a newbie thinks he knows about my entire family history, I thought to myself, wondering if this day could get anymore confusing.

"Well, do tell me what you know about my family," I said, gulping down my soda.

"Okay, seriously, how do you not know that your ancestors were prominent figures in Skyeville?" His eyes showed a hint of disbelief. Something about how he stared at me made me uneasy. It was like that odd feeling you get when you're being stared at by a grim stranger on the street.

"Probably because most of them are dead?" I muttered. "The only living relative I have is my uncle."

"I'm so sorry about that," he said with a sympathetic look that seemed somewhat faked. Yet I dismissed that thought as I proceeded to ask if he had a name.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I got carried away," he smiled awkwardly. "It's just... I've heard a lot about your ancestors long before we moved here. They inspired most of the werewolf stories we read about today. The ancient protectors of the village that is now known as Skyeville. You know, this city used to be a playground for witches and vampires."

Not again.

I tried not to roll my eyes at him as he kept on speaking.

"The vampires would give people nightmares and suck them dry of blood while the witches go about hunting children to sacrifice for their vile rituals," he said. "But then a group of the community's elders came together and sought the aid of the Egyptian god Khons, among them was Asim, one of your predecessors. And the moon god communicated with him directly, bestowing him with the power to rid his village of the evil that plagued it."

"Wow, you read a lot of fairytales," I laughed, spooning some porridge into my mouth while wondering if there was some hidden message behind why almost everyone I came across today seemed to have some fantastic tale to share with me.

"You didn't grow up with your parents, did you?" continued the keen storyteller gravely.

"They both died when I was six during a hunting trip," I responded with a mouth full of porridge. "Uncle Seth said they were killed by a pack of wolves. I've been having terrible nightmares about those... beasts ever since then."

He seemed slightly taken aback by my response, like he was earlier when I introduced myself to him, and with a hoarse voice, he managed to say, "Tragic," before clearing his voice to resume his story.

"Asim, your ancestor, was able to channel the power of the moon god through the moon, and some even began to say that he was a reincarnation of the Egyptian god of the moon," he said. "And when he shared this power with the other elders, and succeeded in ridding this town of the blood-sucking feinds and their witchy companions, the villagers began to address him by the name of the moon god Khons. I suppose that's how your family adopted that name."

"Great story," I commented, relieved it was finally over and I could get back to eating my meal at a regulated pace.

"Yeah, I wish it was just a story," he said, folding his hands across his chest. "I wanted to believe it was until I heard about the prophecy."

I chuckled in disbelief as I struggled to hold back a laughter. "Seriously? Now there's a prophecy?"

"Of course," he nodded firmly. "The Ghizans, oldest family of vampires who tormented Skyeville vowed to return with the demise of every last Khons in your family line. And I'm afraid it's already begun."

"Okay." I nodded cluelessly, spooning more porridge into my mouth as I watched him passionately narrate his story.

"Your friend, the one who was killed in the woods, the stab wounds were just a cover up," he said in a softer tone. "They found bite marks on his shoulders. That's how the Ghizans feed. They do it the old fashioned way, not how vampires are portrayed nowadays."

"I'm going to have to stop you there," I snapped, feeling a build up of rage as I deemed his referencing his tall tales to Gregor's death as an act of mockery over such a grave situation. "You want to joke about vampires or make up stories, you do that. But don't you dare do so with my best friend in mind."

"I'm sorry, that was insensitive," he apologized, faking yet another sympathetic look. "Those are not my words. It was... published in an article. I'm just... Well, I'm just saying, it might be too late to stop them from returning. I mean, who could possibly scare them off this time if they decide to make this place their home permanently?"

I shrugged nonchalantly, emptying the can of soda I was drinking. "Nature will find a way to handle it," I muttered. "She did the first time. I see no reason Why this will be any different."

"Well, let's hope so," he said, seeming to lose courage from my words. "In this current age of technology, there's barely anyone attuned to their spiritual roots anymore. What makes you think anyone would stand a chance against this ancient family?"

Sensing the challenge in his voice, I felt inclined to defy him or discourage him however I could, saying the first thing that came to mind, "The Ghizans will go down even if I have to see to their cessation myself. I mean, let's not forget that I am a living Khons." I smiled mischievously at him, satisfied by the dispirited look on his face. "My father might be dead, but the magic in his blood still runs through me. So I say let them come. I am very much attuned to my spiritual roots. I can reach out to the moon god the same way Asim reached out to him. So you have nothing to fear, new kid. Our town is as safe as ever." I winked at his agitated form, stuffing my mouth with more cold porridge while hoping that would shut him up for good.