The Rising - Ennead 2

Scene 13.5 - Sleeping with the Enemy

The memory in the blood mirror dissolves as follows the Thought Father. It is now weak, unable to hold on to images of a person within the dreamscape. It reassembles to show a darkened room.

Even though it is late evening, the taste of the air is significantly different, as is the shade of the evening sky. we are miles away from where we began.

A couple of boxes are stacked on the far side of the room. The dismal packing boxes are jammed with random items unsure of whether their new home has become permanent. A woman sits behind a dresser, her back to the visitors who enter her personal space. She slowly pulls a brush through her straight, black hair.

After a pause and a moment she sighs, clear almond eyes flickering towards the reflection in the dresser mirror. "I didn't know you actually come here in person."

"The Thought Father smiles gently, milky eyes staring, unfocused, at the other Psychic in the room. The clear ring of his thought sending is clear to our observers as he chuckles, "It is an auspicious night. I find it useful to step out on nights like these. It has been a while my child. How fares Denise Cho?"

Denise swings her legs round the dresser stool so that she now faces the old man. She gives a slight nod of respect. "This daughter is tired. How much longer?"

The old man hobbles to an old four poster bed and dismisses the courier. He takes a while to catch his breath, and when he finally does, he ignores his subordinate's question.

"Teaching you was a trial. Always so full of yourself, you were. It is not easy to fill a cup that insists it is already full."

Denise's screws up her lips. The dodge has not been missed. It is a good thing she is accustomed to her old teacher. Somehow an answer to her question lay in his comment. It will have to be enough for now.

"These children... the Magi. I only signed up for one, now I have to handle three! Four, if you count the boy. This mind can only handle so much!"

The Thought Father begins to examine a new nick in his walking staff. "For something with such a frail sounding name, the Ash tree grants some of the most stubborn wood. Don't you agree?"

The old psychic allows silence to speak for a minute. It is intentional. He gives his former acolyte a moment to digest his answer.

"How fare the children?" He finally asks.

"They grow too quickly."

"Yes dear. Children tend to do that. It gets old after a while. Trust me." He picks his nose and observes the result on the tip of his finger. He then looks up at Denise and smiles sheepishly, as if unsure whether to flick it off or not.

The female psychic groans, pulls a wet-wipe out of a box and then walks over to the old man to wipe away the offending particle.

"Their growth is erratic, unpredictable." She 'sends, "It follows no sequence at all. I cripple their strength with my most powerful suggestions every other day but it feels as if their power works its way around the roadblocks each time. It is exhausting."

"It is, isn't it? Yet somehow, this old man knows that it's something you enjoy doing. Considering your... circumstances, perhaps these children may fill a space that has been closed off. Hmmm? You are concerned that you will fail."

Denise is concerned. It is the nature of psychics to re-learn surprise and close the inner eye that predicts the next. Tenzin, Thought Father of the Third Society, dispensed such pretense years before Denise was even born.

"It might be impossible. Grooming predictable Magi..."

"It either is or isn't, and you will find out. That much is known." His finger moves towards his nose again, then reverses slowly; the result of wicked look from Denise.

"If only The Eldest..." He muses.

"The Eldest is a myth Tenzin. You taught me that yourself."

"I know," he grumbles, "but if there was such a Magus, we could learn so much. Too bad such a promising lead is nothing but faerie dust."

"Not dust," a new voice insists, mangling words as it manages to point out "Eldes' is real!"

We turn to observe the intruder. It's a little girl, barely past toddler. She's in a pale blue nightgown, clutching an oversized pink bunny plushie.

Everyone is surprised, myself included. Little girls should not be awake at this time! Something about her presence makes our little spy window shatter.