Chapter 32: Xentitis Stone

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My time is over. Twenty-three hours is up, and if a hoard of Mogadorians attack, it'll be my fault. If anyone gets hurt, dies, it'll be my fault. I watch time tick by slowly... Well, that's not all that accurate. It's more like I can feel time ticking away, like it's counting my luck down, my luck of keeping true to my promise to Henri. "Emily, are you paying attention?"

"What?" They're watching me—Henri, Marina, John, Ella. They look worried. "Sorry. I kind of went numb, I guess. I'm fine."

"I was talking about using the Xentitis stone to help you control your ergokinesis," Henri repeats. "Does that sound ok?"

Oh. John's Chest is splayed open in front of me; most of its items are a mess outside of it. Henri holds the oblong rock: the Xentitis stone, it being a stone collected from Lorien's first moon. It's dark grey with a tinge of cobalt around the edges. According to Henri, it can sync the Legacies with a Garde until their body finds the nature for it—whatever that means. "See, right now, your body's only relying on excessive amounts of energy because it's not used to this power. It's behaving on how the human body would behave," he explained. "But with the Xentitis, it should allow the various pathways in your body to clear and adapt to the Legacy's nature, making it easier for you to call it and control it on your own."

"Why was it in my Chest?" John had asked.

"It's not only for you, John, but any Garde." And when John asked if it would work on me—a human—Henri was much more uncertain. He doesn't know, which only makes me wonder again if I should've gone back to Setrákus Ra. I know I don't want to, but if he could figure it out...

For all we know this stone could result in something awful; loss of feeling in my hands, superhuman hands, or it could do nothing at all! But—what other choice do I have? It's either learn how to use this thing or be useless to them. I don't want to be useless.

"Give me your hand," Henri asks. I do. "Let me know if you feel anything," he adds before he starts tracing the stone up my index finger. I glance at him worriedly but nod as he brings the stone closer. It's smooth despite its jagged appearance, and it's cold to the touch. I wasn't expecting that. As Henri moves it slowly over my skin, its icy chill fades.

From the tips of my fingers to the palm of my hand; from the palm of my hand to the edge of my wrist; from the edge of my wrist to my forearm, elbow... he moves agonizingly slow.

It's only when it reaches my elbow that I feel a slight tingle. I'm not sure if it's from the stone or from nerves. "Close your eyes," he says. "Let your mind drift."

I have no idea what he's talking about, but again, I do as he says. I take a breath and close my eyes, and as the stone moves up my arm at a snail's pace, my mind drifts back to the cave:

I remember everything since the day Five had taken me. Everything happens like it did the first time—the flight up to the ship, the twist of my arm, the pull of my hair, the walk to the cave, the dread of losing Pixie, the loss of feeling in my arms, that sense of abandonment in my tiny cell, the searing of the ooze, burning of the incisions, numbness of his cane. It's like I'm reliving it the same as I did. I see him, hear him; he's faint and less audible than before, but I still hear enough to know what he's saying: the exact same things as before. I see Henri, but he looks like he does now: healed. I clench my teeth as time seems to slow even further while the ooze glides down my skin. My body writhes, and I hear Henri's voice, calm, collected, like he's not here with me after all. "Breathe Emily. Let it flow."

I try to, but what was slow is turning severe. I try to calm it down. In, out, in, out, in, out... "Good. Let your anger turn into strength." I'm vaguely aware of the stone touch my triceps. I wish I knew what he meant. I decide to focus on breathing; it's easier after the meditation yesterday.

Gradually, the room changes; I couldn't be more grateful for that. No longer am I dangling, but rather, on that table. I hear him. I see him in the lab coat like before. My breath catches as he holds the syringe to my arm. My muscles tense. Not again. I want to scream!!!

"Don't forget to breathe," he says, and my rage only heightens. He can't do this to me! This isn't fair! My eyes shut, and once they open, everything's azure. I can't do this. Not again. "Calm down, Emily. You're ok. You're safe." But I can't; it's impossible. This isn't fair.

"Nothing is impossible, dear," he says in my ear. I can't stop him!

Everything fades to black. I half expect myself to wake up, wake up next to John, away from this, but I don't. In, out, in, out...

It's darker now. I'm free of shackles but still in the cave. I walk around, wondering what's going on or why I'm here until I hear a voice; it's faint, quiet, petite, in pain: "Help."

"Mom?" Surely, no. It can't be her.

"Over here."

"Dad?" This is a dream; it must be.

I edge closer; that's when I see them. Mom. Dad. Brother. They're in chairs, wrists and ankles tied. "I tried calling you," my brother says, slipping in and out. No. This can't be happening!

A hand rests on my shoulder. "He did try calling you. You never picked up." I don't even want to turn around. I know who's there. I know it's Setrákus Ra. I step away from him until his hand falls, then turn. "I suppose you don't care for them after all."

"What—What did you do?!"

"I told you; you will regret not coming back to me." He towers over me; he's at least eight feet tall. Suddenly, I can't move. It's like my feet are stuck in his sticky ooze. He takes one look at my family, then back at me, then he starts to change. His body glows with a strange silver-lining. He shrinks down to my height. His features shift until it's like I'm looking into a mirror. What should be dread inside me right now instead lies an unusual amity. "Let's see what you'll do now," he says—in my own voice too! "I'm ready."

He pulls out a curved dagger, the same he pierced me with, and I know he's planning on using it again, but before he does, I hear Henri: "Emily, open your eyes!"

As quickly as a bullet shoots out of a gun, the blade stabs my chest and I dart up. I'm lying on the couch, out of breath, a hand on my stomach. Pixie nuzzles me, but I pay her no mind. They're all staring. "Emily?" Ella asks. I look at her, at each of them, then at my hands. They're glowing! I don't know what it is, why, or how. "You okay?"

I tuck in my knees, shaking my head, shaking. "It wasn't worth it."

"What happened?" Henri asks. "What did you see?"

"I was... I was back there... I saw him, heard him... felt him." I drag in a breath that does little to bring me to ease. "I saw my mom and dad, and my brother... He hurt them. He has them—" No one says a word, so I stand unsteadily. My hands won't stop glowing, and I have no idea how to turn them off. "I'm sorry, Henri. I don't care if it's working. I can't do this, not again." I'm in my room faster than I thought I'd be—seconds tops—and my door slams closed.

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