Playing in Ashes

Prologue

The Ancient Prophecy:

**As written on the walls in the secret temple of The Elders**

"In a time unknown...

The Destroyer will immerge from his hidden domain...

And with him, he will bring a legion of Deceivers to which he will disperse among all of mankind...

On that day...

The Inceku will be released upon the earth...

And the Creator will awaken a host of warriors...

Warriors from within a people wanting...

A people unaccepted...

Amongst them will rise a chosen leader...

One who will usher us into a momentous battle...

A battle whose outcome will decide the fate of all."

There is a spiritual war that has been raging since the beginning of time. It is thought by some to be non-existent and by others to be only tales derived from ancient societies, legends, and those lost within the illusions of their own minds.

Most humans are blind to it, but there are a chosen few who know it's real...who feel, see, and hear it every day.

These chosen are looked down on by society and, mentally, kept captive by those meant to free them from the confines of their own minds...but little do they know...they are about to be awakened and shown the extraordinary powers that lie within them...

RIGHT NOW:

It's 11:46pm and it is a chilly autumn Saturday night. I should be laughing and hanging out with friends or snuggled up in a blanket on the couch watching a scary movie...or, more realistically, asleep in my tiny room back at the asylum. But, no, I am on the rooftop of a skyscraper with blood pouring out of my side. The muscles in my legs are burning. I can't breathe. And I don't know how much longer I can keep this up. But, if I don't, I will die.

My life hasn't been the best, but it's my life...it can't end now. Not like this. Would anyone even find me up here? Why did they abandon me? I don't understand. The last two weeks have been one big blur. I am having a hard time distinguishing between reality and illusion. I'm shaking. The wind is so cold. The silence is cutting into my heart. I'm alone. And I'm struggling to survive. My tears feel like shards of ice against my skin, and I don't know what to do. The universe has dealt me some crappy cards in the past, but this is by far the worst.

What the heck is this thing...this creature, and why is it trying to kill me? Where did it come from? Is any of this even real? It feels real...even the blood...it's so warm.

But, maybe, I should get you caught up...fill you in on what's been happening over the last couple of weeks. I'm going to take you back to that Thursday...it was the first time I saw her and the night that my life was forever changed.

16 DAYS EARLIER:

Curiosity got the best of me, I guess. That's the only explanation I can give for not being able to turn my stare away from her. They had put her in the room across from mine. The halls were not that wide. It was an apartment building for a good 30 years before they turned it into a "crazy house". It used to be filled with those tiny apartments for people who wanted the uptown life but couldn't afford it. So, yeah, space was scarce, and privacy was non-existent. As a matter of fact, the second week I was there, they had decided to take all the doors to the patients' rooms off their hinges.

So, anyways, back to the story...if I would've known what was best for me, I would have just gone back to reading my magazine, but I never listen to my instincts. Ever since I was a child, really.

The girl was Asian, average in height, but small still. She couldn't have weighed more than 115 pounds and that was pushing it. Her curly jet-black hair lay loosely past her shoulders, about 4 to 5 inches past, to be more precise. Her skin looked like lightly bronzed porcelain and her eyes like the color of fresh honey in the midday sun...yeah, I read a lot, lol

But why was she here? She didn't seem to be anything like the rest of us. We were all suicidal failures, the outcome of society's betrayal, and some of us were still struggling with finding the difference between reality and delusion.

I had been in and out of mental hospitals for going on seven years. It was my second time staying at this hospital and I was going on four months of watching girls come and go. I had gone through 6 roommates and was expecting another one at any moment. It's kind of like living in a jail. But I knew the kind of girls who were brought here. They may have all been here for different reasons, but they all had the same aura about them. An aura of desperation and failure. She seemed to be nothing like us. There was something about her. Something different. I just couldn't put my finger on it, but, for sure, that desperation was not there.

The nurse had just come into my room with her tray of little white cups.

I had gone through so many different medications over the years. But this little mixture had seemed to be working better than any of the onesthey mixed up for me in the past. I seemed to be more "myself" those days. Although, I really didn't know who I was anymore. Years of different medications, episodes of psychosis, mania, and deep depression had left me confused as to who I really was inside.

But I took my meds like a good girl. Like always. I learned to stop fighting them when they began to stick needles in me. You have fewer rights when there are no parents in the picture, and you are owned by the state.

Wow...does my mind wander...

Now, back to what I was saying. As soon as the nurse was turning to leave my room, I glanced across the hall and noticed the girl was staring at me with an indescribable look on her face. Suddenly, my eyes began to dart around the room, and I felt flushed. What was up with this chic?

I never looked to see if she had stopped staring at me. I just went to a corner of my room where no one could see me and changed into my pajamas. It's always cold in those places, so, I always wore my purple and pink flannel pajama bottoms with my loose dark grey long john top...you know, the kind with the three small buttons at the collar. They were so comfortable. I really miss those darn things.

Oh, I still haven't introduced myself, have I?

So, my name is Jewel Corvus. I am 18 years old, and I suffer from Schizophrenia. Well, to be more precise, it's a schizoaffective disorder. I have been an orphan since the age of 8. Diagnosed with my illness when I was 12. I don't remember much about my family, other than the fact that my father was from Viterbo, an old small town next to Rome, Italy and my mother was from Chiapa de Corzo. in Chiapas, Mexico. And, the crazy thing is, I was born in a small town in Texas named Beeville. Yeah, I know. Nothing sexy and exotic about me, except maybe my eyes...they're bright purple. But Beeville is one of those towns where everyone waves at strangers, there's a taqueria on every corner, and nothing stays secret for long. Now, how did I end up in Dallas? I have no clue. I don't remember much, because that was around the time when I began to show signs of my illness. 

Psychosis and memories are not friends. And the memories I do have are questionable, at best.

But that night is a night that will forever be etched in my memory. Whether everything from this night on is real, I still am not too sure about...