The Psychic Chronicles Book 1 - Illusions

PROLOGUE - THE BIRTHMARK

                                                                        Prologue – The Birthmark

 

The moon hung high in the sky as it shone down atop a small unseen village. Invisible it would have been if not for the small kerosene lanterns which hung from iron hooks just outside the old wooden homes. At the end of each day the hard working villagers would put out their lanterns and disappear from the world once more. They would turn in their tools and drift off into a sleep before the next sunrise beckoned them to another day of hard labor. However, on this particular night, not all were asleep. It was the light in one shed that flickered softly against the faces of a smiling couple. There a woman lay beneath a sheet in a bed exhausted, sweat glistening off her forehead. She wasn’t unusual looking for a Siaan. Her skin was tanned an olive color, she had big brown eyes, and her dark hair was unkempt as it lay ruffled on her shoulders. To the average eye everything about her was typical.

In her company was a man tall and brazen as he was kind. He stood at her side clutching her palm within his tightly. He was middle aged or younger, yet his hair gleaned silver in the light, a trait he had always held since he was a small child. He was fairer skinned than his counterpart, and his eyes were blue. Bright blue. He kneeled down close to the woman and passed a small towel over her forehead as he gently tucked her hair behind her ear. Without words they exchanged a feeling, an understanding that the world for them now would be changed forever. For this day was a special day for them indeed.

          They looked over at the doorway as a short older woman appeared. She had also been olive skinned, but her tanned face was scrunched and worn with age. Her thick eyebrows folded over hiding most of her eyes if not for a slit of white peering through. In her hands she held an infant wrapped in a bluish cloth held tightly against her bosom. As she walked over she stretched out her arms and handed the child to its new mother who caressed the baby’s forehead tenderly with the back of her palm. 

          “The birthing ceremony is complete. It’s time to name the child,” she spoke craggily, pulling out a small wooden cross-like object with a looped head. “Have you decided on a name?”

          The man looked down at the woman who nodded in acceptance. “Go ahead Caelin, it’s a nice name, “she said. He looked back and smiled.

          “We would like to name him Lucas, after my father,” the man spoke nervously. “If that’s okay.”

          “Very well then,” she said nodding and waving the object in the air. “May he find guidance in his new form as he emerges into this world,” she said as she begun to hum a deep chant.

          The new mother gave a small laugh as a feeling of overwhelming joy began to replace her exhaustion.

          “Lucas,” she said, “you are the son of Zuna and Caelin, may the spirits guide you as you transverse into the world.” As she coddled the newborn the old midwife’s chants became louder. “Welcome.”

          Zuna sat as she ran her finger down the small crevice of the baby’s nose. Her smile vanished, however, when she noticed something odd. Looking now at the infant’s stomach she could see something strange developing on his skin. It appeared suddenly, a dark spot, as if spreading ink had sprung up from beneath his skin.  She touched it gently with the tips of her fingers as she tried to understand the shape, but in an instant she knew. There it appeared, in a complete circle joined by three sections, a Tomoye.

          The new mother’s eyes sprang up to the old woman as she tried to hide the mark beneath the cover, but it had been too late.

          “The Tomoye Birthmark!” cried the old woman placing a shaking hand over her mouth.