The Waking

Chapter XI

Chapter XI

     The next few days were a blur. After having a long, heartfelt conversation with Quinn about controlling my emotions as well as my powers, we trained for what seemed like an eternity every day. He pushed me hard, teaching me hand-to-hand combat, sword skills, and dozens of fighting tactics. We went for runs across the state every morning, racing through the forest, me finally edging out a win, and leaving Quinn in my dust.

     My powers were growing every day; I could feel it in my bones. I felt ready for anything- ready to take on Nevaeh and get my father back.

     One morning, over a styrofoam cup of disgusting campfire coffee, Quinn told me something that changed everything.

     "Zach," he started, dumping his brown sludge onto the ground, "there's something I've been meaning to tell you."

     "Okay," I said, choking down the last of my coffee. "Shoot."

     Quinn took a breath, like someone does when they have very bad news to tell.

     "Before your mom died, she chose me to be your guardian- your teacher."

     I rolled my eyes.

     "I know that but-"

     Quinn cut me off with a wave of his hand.

     "Let me finish, kid. Your mom, wasn't much of a fighter. In the War, she acted mainly as a healer, tending the wounded and supplying the other Dart with food and water. After the War was over, she helped Primulus and Lucifer write the Accords."

     I nodded. My limited memory of my mother checked out with Quinn's story. She was always uneasy, scared of her own shadow; never one to pick a fight. If ever I got a papercut, she would fix me up within minutes. She had worked as an attorney, so it made sense that she would be a Dart diplomat.

     "After the Accords were signed," Quinn continued, "Primulus uttered a prophecy. Your mother was the only witness. She told me that it's very important that you read the slip of paper in the bottom of her Box."

     I smiled.

     "That's it?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

     Quinn swallowed hard. He looked really uncomfortable.

     "I have to leave," he said softly, his voice barely a whisper, "Primulus said that you need to do this alone."

     I almost spat up my coffee.

     "WHAT?!" I roared, standing bolt upright, the flames in the firepit shooting into the morning sky along with my emotions. My telekinesis was out of control.

     "Zach! Relax!" Quinn cried, nearly toppling over in his chair. "Don't lose control!"

      I slowed my breathing, and the flames died down with my surprise. I huffed.

     Quinn grabbed my Box from the chair next to him and tossed it to me. I unlocked it with my Mark. Inside, just like before, was the purple velvet bed for my sword, which sat in the pocket of my jeans. There was no slip of paper. I eyed Quinn suspiciously. He motioned for me to flip the Box over. I did, with my hand under it to catch the velvet, and a small piece of yellowed parchment fluttered out. I reached out with my telekinesis and brought the paper to a halt a few inches from my face.

     Slanted black lettering lined the paper, in the format of a poem. I read aloud:

"The spawn of an Elder Dart,