Born Of Nothing

7

With that being said, I settled relatively easily into my new life, simply pleased to be left to my own devices. The first night of my arrival, as one might expect, had been the most unsettling part of my transition. Once I had discovered how to gain access to my room, awe settled over me as I took in the foreign accommodations. My cabin in Faery had been a fraction of the size of my new room. I had grown accustomed to sleeping on a dirty pallet on the floor and cooking paltry meals over a campfire. My new circumstances were opulent in comparison. Prior to my exile, I had enjoyed a down mattress and the best comforts life the eleventh century had to offer. Those luxuries had been nothing compared to what the people of the twenty-first century regarded as a normal part of life. An enormous bed large enough to fit an entire family filled the center of my room. There was a broad chest of drawers and a writing desk along with a number of items I could not identify. The most fascinating discovery was the washroom, where I found mechanized running water. However, my exploration of the bathing facility was cut short when my eyes landed on my own reflection. The mirrored glass was clearer than any I had ever seen, giving me an unobstructed view of myself. I hardly recognized the man before me. Ratted black hair draped over my shoulders, and a long scraggly beard hid a large portion of my face and neck. At times I had attempted to trim the growth, but there had been little point for such vanity. My skin was filthy, and I was suddenly grateful the inn keeper had allowed me into his establishment at all. I had not had reason to feel shame in a very long time, and it left a bitter taste in my mouth. When I figured out how to work the running pipes, I stood for some time in the basin under the warm stream of cleansing water. With such advancements, who would need magic? I lathered my body in the soaps provided and washed away my years of exile. Using my sharpest knife, I cut off and then scraped away the remnants of my facial hair. It had been so long since the sensitive skin on my cheeks and jaw had been exposed that my own touch felt foreign. Once the water had cleansed me both inside and out, I stood before the mirror again. The man before me was still a stranger, but more familiar than he had been. I reminded myself that the image meant little. I knew who I was inside and was proud of the man I had become over the years. My changed surroundings did not have to impact who I was. After that night, I began to explore. Each day I ventured out to cautiously survey the area. I acquired shoes and food using less than honorable means. If I had learned nothing more in life, it was that survival came above all else. The customs and laws of civilization meant little to a starving man. Until I acquired the means to purchase goods, I had no qualms taking what I needed. The foods were unsettlingly rich, and I discovered I much preferred the natural produce sold at markets to the food prepared by merchants. I was intrigued by everything around me but could only stand to venture out in small intervals. Encountering crowds of people and the bombardment of cultural oddities was disorienting. I often found myself retreating to the solitude of my room. The silence of the Shadow Lands had been eerily discomforting when I first arrived, but I had grown accustomed to the nothingness. The constant assault on my senses when I ventured out on the streets of Strabane grated on my nerves. This new transition, while not easy, was certainly not as disheartening as my first foray into the Shadow Lands. Both situations were similar in their constant uncertainty. What dangers lurked out of sight? What were my priorities? How was I going to survive? The first night of my exile, I had nearly been killed by a Draug because I had been so overwhelmed. I had spent my daylight hours locating shelter and had neglected to forage for water. When I finally discovered a small stream, I had hollered with relief and busied myself drinking from the cool spring. My focus on finding water had left me blind to hidden dangers. I had practically invited the attack. My magic was the only reason I was still alive. The dangers in this modern human world were far less, but the necessary adaptation was similarly daunting. However, I had mastered my surroundings then, and I would succeed in doing so again. I was a survivor, regardless of the terrain. OceanofPDF.com 5 When Wednesday rolled around, I had an unexpected visitor waiting for me outside of the museum. Daeglan O’Connor sat on the stone steps, his legs crossed as if he was simply out enjoying the weather. He may have been my mother’s friend, but I had never liked the man. That certainly didn’t change when he recently tried to harm Rebecca. I had made the mistake of telling my mother that Rebecca and Lochlan had located the long-lost Sword of Light and were going to retrieve it in London. Mom passed the information to Daeglan, who raced to London and tried to steal the sword out from under Rebecca. It was a powerful Fae weapon, but the most notorious of its powers was the ability to force the truth from anyone at its blade. Daeglan wanted the druids to have it and didn’t care if anyone died in the process. I recognized his appearance outside the museum for the bad omen it was and braced myself for whatever he had to say. “Good morning, Daeglan,” I offered warily. He stood as I approached, a smarmy grin on his thin lips. “Mornin’, Cat. I know you have work now, but I was hoping we could talk for a minute. Your mother’s been awfully worried about you lately.” “When isn’t my mother worried about me?” I shot back insolently. My relationship with my mother was none of his business, and I resented him for butting in. “Family is everything, Cat. Don’t begrudge her for wanting to protect her only child.” His words were valid, but his condescending tone counteracted their effectiveness. Daeglan was about five-ten with dark hair combed neatly back, and a closely-trimmed salt-and-pepper beard. His eyes were a dusky grey beneath a prominent brow, and his tanned skin covered pronounced cheek bones. He would have been attractive had it not been for the malignant aura that surrounded him. The essence may not have been visible, but whenever I was near him, I could feel its snaking tendrils trying to coat me in his malevolence.