I Am Where You Are | Mystical Flowers#1 (Ongoing)

Chapter Eleven

Mom. It was mom. I couldn't believe it. I just sat there, stunned. Archer put his hand on mine. "I know this must be shocking to you; to know that she wasn't who she appeared to be." I felt like someone had placed a stone over my heart. I pushed his hand away. "My mom never changed. She was always the same to us. That's all that matters", I said, but it seemed like everything I'd ever known was being torn away from me. Wait. I looked up at Archer, who was looking at me with concern. "In the memory that I saw, my mom had black hair, but she's had her hair blonde for as long as I can remember. How is that possible?", I asked, trying desperately to somehow grasp the reality of this situation. I know that a part of me desperately hoped that none of this was true. How could I ever come to terms with the fact that my mom was the lost princess? When she was there all along?
Archer nodded, understanding. "She probably dyed her hair so that no one would notice her. Hair colours are something that changes as your powers grow stronger. They change as soon as you turn thirteen. My hair wasn't always white. I guess you can call it a coming-of-age sort of thing. In your mom's case, though, it wasn't the same. She had already turned thirteen when she was taken away, so her hair would have changed by then. Another thing is that she entered the force field using all her strength. She got the old woman and herself through it, if what they say is true. In that case, she would have suffered major impacts from doing so. Like I said, when she got through the mist, she sent a shock wave through all the three worlds. Her powers would've weakened considerably from that alone. But if she has spent all those years in the human world, it's likely that she started losing her powers. Our powers will not survive in the human world. That's exactly why none of us stay there for long."

"What about me? How come my powers haven't weakened?", I asked, looking down at my hands. Archer shrugged. "I guess it's because your mom was magical and your dad was human. Your mom's ability to attain powers was transferred to you, but your dad's human nature allowed you to keep the power permanently because of your strong connection to the human world. There are many like you, but I haven't seen anyone as powerful as you are."

I looked up, curious. "What makes you say that?"

He looked away. "Well...it's just your aura, I think. It's...different. You're not like the others, that's for sure", he said, looking at me again.
We sat there in silence for a few more minutes, till Archer suddenly looked up and asked, "What colour was your hair before this?"
I looked up, surprised, and realised that I'd never really given it much thought before.
"As far as I know, it's always been black", I said, running my hands along the locks, which were now dry. Archer stared at me wide-eyed.
"That's impossible...there's no way...", he whispered, getting up from his chair. I got up too, anxious to know why that wasn't possible. "What do you mean?", I asked nervously.
He walked over to me and put his hands on my shoulders. I looked down at his hands on my shoulders and back at his face. His face was too close to mine.
"Don't you see? You were born with these powers. That only happens once in a few centuries.", he said, taking his hands away from my shoulders and pacing around the room. "You're way more powerful than I thought, Lisa. This is not good."

"Why? I though being more powerful was supposed to be good. I would be more protected wouldn't I?"
"Yes, but the more powerful you are, the faster you get killed."

* * *
I looked at Archer and wondered how that could be possible. He saw my confused expression and walked over to me. "Lisa, the stronger you are, the more powerful your scent is. That what's dangerous."

None of this was making sense.
"I'm sorry...I just..I can't seem to process all this", I said, sinking down to the floor. The carvings on the floor flitted in and out of different pictures, forming different parts of a story, revealing secrets that the naked eye wouldn't be able to see. I saw through it all.
"Why do the carvings move?", I asked all of a sudden.
Archer knelt beside me, tracing his fingers over them. "They form stories that we can't see even if we look closely. They change according to the decisions that people make. It's like taking a reading from a fortune teller. Once you know what's going to happen in your future, you won't make the same choices you would've made before that. So, these carvings change whenever someone's decision affects a part of them."

I wiped my eyes on the sleeve of the t-shirt I was wearing. I couldn't call it mine because it was his, but I guess I couldn't give it back anyway.
"Why is Rumelda searching for me?", I asked. Archer looked surprised, but gave me a reassuring nod. "What does my scent have to do with any of this?"
Suddenly, and without warning, Archer took my face in his hands, and wiped my tears away. I paused, bewildered. He realised that I might have been uncomfortable and quickly stepped away.

"Sorry, I just...can't see you like this." He cleared his throat, embarrassed.

"It's okay. Go on.", I said, not wanting to make this any more awkward than it already was. He nodded.
"Rumelda's gift is an unusual one. It's her sense of smell that can guide her anywhere. She can memorise not only the smells of places and things, but of people as well. Shes ancient, though. Some say she's as old as the trees. Even at her age, the old hag won't stop till she has you."

"Whoa, wait. Rumelda is an old lady?", I asked. I almost laughed at that. It suddenly seemed like I was being scared for no reason.

Archer shook his head. "Not any old lady. The old lady. She was the one who took your mother away, Lisa."