Keeper of Arancti

chapter 4 - Not All Oracles Are Old Men

My eyes fell on the girl and behind her a boy around our age. He had raven black hair and his skin was chocolate brown. His features were sharp and he seemed to have a tinge of curiousity in his eyes.

They were talking very animately, sharing smiles from time to time.

Then he noticed me and smiled. He beckoned me forward to sit where they were. I sat.

"So where's this oracle we are to meet?" I asked uncomfortably.

"I am he." The boy let out a slight laugh.

I stared at him for a second.

"Not all oracles are old men with toxic breath and terrible hair." He made the girl laugh.

"Sheia tells me you might be the Keeper. My name is Tarun." Sheia. I realised i hadn't gotten her name. Sheia.

I nodded. "Jonathon. You two are very close?"

"Very. We used to be play wih each other every day. That was until my services were required when the last oracle left. She still comes now and then of course." He shot Sheia a smile.

"Oh Tarun, there is no need to tell him your whole life story! We came for a reason. Is he the one?" She grabbed Tarun's hand.

Tarun gestured for me to place my hands in his. I did so. He then gripped me tightly and shut his eyes.

The whole place stayed silent and it felt like time had stopped. Everyhing was moving in slow motion. His eyes shot open and a turquoise light beamed from them. Markings of the same color began lighting up his skin, causing his whole body to shake. I shut my eyes for fear that the blue light should blind me. I could feel the heat from his hands emanating into my body as if seeping in to take over my system. I screamed as the heat engulfed me; it felt like every fibre of my being were being burnt. The heat was unbearable. I shouted at him to stop but he was possessed and just gripped me even tighter. I yelled in agony and felt my consciousness slowly left go and give in to the blue fires.