A Sorceress From the Future

Chapter Fifty Nine

As children, Baric, Tamara, and Luke would punctually avail themselves for meals with their parents in the royal chambers. It did not matter how physically ill or how tired or how emotionally agitated they were; meals were sacred. These times were precious to Luke. They were the only times he did not feel inferior in the eyes of his brother, the only time he could smile at his sister without her making a face in return. The only time he felt like he truly belonged. Luke’s mother, a warm woman with an aloofness that he never fathomed, would ensure each one of them, including his father, would eat vegetables. She was strict when it came to health and appearance. She would lick her finger and rub blemishes off their skin. It was extremely embarrassing, especially when she did it before the maidens. The giggles haunted Baric and Luke their entire childhood. The thing is, they never complained because the truth is, they secretly enjoyed these gestures. As warm as their mother was, she rarely interacted with them apart from the meals and the correcting of their physical appearances. Then the accident on the staircase happened, and his mother devoted all her time to Baric. Luke had never felt so far away from his mother. It was like he had faded into the background, watching his family as a silhouette. The meal tradition was still upheld, but things were different. There were no smiles, warmth was fleeting; it was torture. Luke’s father grew weary of these strained meal meetings. He began scheduling his own meetings during meal times to avoid the discomfort. Still, the queen and her children punctually availed themselves for meals day in day out. Until Tamara came into her powers.

Then everything changed.

Baric became obsessed with their mother. He refused to accept her death. Luke watched in agony as his brother withdrew himself from the world, from him. He, too, was hurting, but no one seemed to care. His father was worse. The king pretended as if nothing had occurred, As if his wife had simply left the kingdom to visit relatives. He hosted balls and arranged feasts for every frivolous occasion. The man had lost a wife and a daughter, yet he behaved as if his life was…normal. Forlorn and confused, Luke had dedicated his life to the art of war. He learned to fight, and when he had mastered this art, he trained alongside his mercenaries and oversaw his warriors. He had daily interactions with the vessel and grew accustomed to the pain it exhumed. He formed close relationships with his people, listening to their grievances, solving their wrangles. Without knowing it, Luke was grooming himself to be his father’s successor. Throughout his doings, Luke was driven by one thought, vengeance against magical creatures. To him, magic was what had ruined his life and the life of his loved ones.

Magic is what had put a stop to the family meals.

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“What are you saying?”

Roselidah watched as Luke’s fingers twitched. From what she had encountered, Luke had issues with controlling his emotions, just like his sister. One wrong statement, and she would wind up next to Martha. Roselidah snapped her eyes shut, she still had not come to terms with Martha’s betrayal. From what she had gathered, Tamara was in danger. Roselidah had not known that her brother and Guzman were in these same woods scouting for a cure. Even though Martha had not mentioned it, Roselidah was positive that the two mages were also after the healers. This was good; the more they were, the higher the chances of salvaging the prince’s life. Still, Daniel was alone with Tamara; her life was in danger, and so was Baric’s. Was she meant to go back or go on with the mission?

“I asked you a question, mage?”

Roselidah stole a glance towards Lawrence, who had paled significantly. He was clearly in shock. Would he give Luke the sword if he commanded it? Is there a part of him that would defend her?

Wait, did she have feelings for Lawrence?                 

“Luke, we are wasting time, Baric-“

“Quiet Lawrence! I need to know what she meant! I cannot be one of them…I cannot be like Tamara or Stephen…Please,  tell me you are mistaken…”

For a moment, she wanted to. She wanted to conceal the truth. She wanted to tell him that what had happened had been a miracle offered graciously by the gods. But deep down, Roselidah knew she had to tell him.

“Please do not…”

Roselidah angled her head towards Lawrence. He knew she was telling the truth, but he did not want Luke to be fully aware of these facts. What exactly had made Luke loathe magical creatures to this extent?

“I could not use my powers against you…just like she could not use her powers to maintain her beastly form near you…”

Luke stumbled backwards. He felt a wave of nausea hit him, then another and another. He bent down and gripped his knees, then he hurled. He felt sick to his stomach. He felt dirty. He felt tricked. He felt hate.

He was one of them.

“How? How am I…Tamara is the one…mother…”

Luke hyperventilated. He felt as if the air around him was getting thin. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think.

And then something occurred to him.

“What are anchors capable of? Their power that is…”

Both Lawrence and Roselidah could not hide their shock. They had anticipated a more aggressive reaction. Like Luke plunging a sword through Roselidah or himself or both. Intrigued, Roselidah approached Luke and crouched beside him.

“Powerful creatures…they are not affected by magic, and they act like anchors to different realms, realities…They can create portals-“

“Portals?”

“Yes, a pathway to another time…”

Baric had known. That was why he was intent on staying in his chambers. He had been so sure that their mother had not been obliterated in the tragedy that she had simply, vanished.

Mother was one of them; she was an anchor.

Was she alive?

“Do any of you hear that?”

Luke was too engrossed to pay attention to his surroundings. He had made a life-shattering discovery. Roselidah’s ears perked up; she had been watching Luke completely unaware of her surroundings. She heard it. At first, it was low, but then she focused all her attention on it. There were two distinct horn blares.

There was a parley in play.