Broken

Truth

            As soon as I get to my door I hear a loud crash downstairs but before I can go back down to see what it was, my mother comes running up the stairs, dragging me toward her bedroom.

            Almost tripping over my own feet a few times as she drags me by my jacket sleeve, I finally regain my balance just as we reach her room. Seeing the panic in her eyes, my heart starts to race. Ma is never scared or panicked, whatevers going on has to be bad. After locking her bedroom door she turns to me with unshed tears in her eyes but determination on her face.

            “Listen to me carefully, Serafina. You need to take my journal,” she tells me as she rushes to grab the leatherbound book from her bedside table’s drawer. “Keep this safe, it will tell you everything you need to know.”

            Trying to interrupt her to ask one of the thousand questions whirling in my head, she covers my mouth with her hand so all I can do is listen.

            “This necklace is the key to opening the journal,” she unclasps the necklace she’s worn every day for as long as I can remember and locks it around my neck using magic to keep it from ever coming off. “Go to Anya, tell her what happened here. The house is being attacked, don’t come back until your father or I calls you. Now go. I love you, sweetheart.” With each sentence her voice got lower until it was only a whisper.

            Hugging my mom tight, I kiss her on the cheek and do as she says. Climbing out her bedroom window onto the roof of the mud room outside the kitchen, I jump a little over ten feet to the ground. Surprised that I actually landed on my feet, I internally pat myself on the back. Dammit, Fina. Focus! Now is no time to be impressed with landing on your f*****g feet. I scolded myself as I ran to my bike and peeled out of there. Every few minutes I look behind me to make sure no one followed me. After about twenty minutes I pull up to the shop and all the lights are out. f**k. She must’ve just closed. Where does she live again?

            Pulling my phone out to call Anya, I see movement in my periphery and whip my head around. Anya’s standing there, looking at me with confusion.

            “Oh thank the gods. I was just about to call you, I forgot where you live.” I start rambling, but she cuts me off before I go on an unnecessary tangent.

            “What are you doing here, Fina? Why do you look so anxious?” she asks, her words filled with concern.

            “The house was attacked, I don’t know who. My mom gave me her journal and told me to go to you like she was prepared for this. So I climbed out her window and jumped off the roof and actually landed on my feet, but then I berated myself for being impressed by landing a big jump while crazy s**t is going on and-“ putting her hand up, she cuts me off.

            “Calm down, lets go to my house. We’ll discuss everything there. Follow me on your bike.” She says and leaves no room for argument by turning and walking to her car.

            Taking a slow, deep breath, I calm myself down as much as possible right now and turn my bike around to follow her. On the drive to her house, my thoughts start to spiral again, a whirlwind of emotions and scenarios, worrying about what’s happening at home. The worst feeling is not knowing, being unaware of what’s happening somewhere else to someone you love. Trying to keep my tears from falling, I blink rapidly and take deep breaths. Don’t cry. Don’t be a baby. Whatever happens, whatever is going on – you’re a big girl. You handle this s**t like an adult, Fina.

            Pulling in behind Anya, I get my keys and leave my helmet, following her inside. Focusing on calming my thoughts so I can think rationally and figure this out. Leading me into the living room, she sits down on the chair across from mine so we face each other.

            “So… let’s get everything straight. Your home was attacked, your mother sent you to me. Right?” she questions.

            “Y-yeah. I heard a loud crash downstairs but before I could check it out, Ma pulled me into her room and gave me her journal and a necklace and told me to come to you,” nodding as I describe what happened, she doesn’t look surprised. “What’s going on? It was like Ma was prepared for this and you’re not shocked at all. “

            Letting out a long sigh, Anya clasps her hands together and scoots forward, looking me straight in the eyes with the most serious expression I’ve ever seen on the laid back, funny, energetic old woman I’ve come to call family.

            “You’re right. We knew this would happen one day. Have you ever heard of the Broken Prophesy?” she asks.

            “I, uh, I don't think so. Why?” I try to keep my anxiety at bay, but it’s not working well.

            “The prophesy says ‘A child born at midnight on December twelfth will have orange red hair like the fire that burns inside them. They will be strong and powerful. They will keep the world in order, neither letting good nor bad take control. Balance will be held at the price of their life.’,” she pauses, taking a deep breath before continuing. “There is a powerful dark sorcerer, Zander, who has been building an army of other sorcerers and sorceresses, shifters of all kinds, and anyone willing to join him. For years he’s been recruiting, planning. He started plotting his evil when he was a young boy. He’s very strong and very cruel. The child in the prophesy is meant to stop him and keep order. The reason it’s called the Broken Prophesy is because if the child were to fail, balance and peace would be broken, unable to be fixed and the world would go into chaos.”

            “But… what does that have to do with what happened?” I ask, confused and nervous about where this is going, my heart beating out my chest.

            “You, Serafina, are the child of the prophesy.”

            Silence filled the house. Trying to wrap my head around what she just said was making me dizzy. That can’t be right. She’s just an old crazy lady, right? She’s gotta be making this up. Yeah, that’s it. She’s just making this up, it’s a prank. My parents were in on it, too.

            “You’re not serious. I know you’re just trying to prank me, it’s not gonna work. I already figured you guys out, but nice try,” I say, my nerves easing a lot. “You almost got me, though. I was freakin’ out there for a second.” I start chuckling over the whole thing, that is until Anya shoots up to her feet with a serious and angry look on her face. Is she really angry? I’ve never seen her actually angry a day in my life.

            “Serafina Azalea Stormfire! This is no joke. Why do you think your parents have been moving you around every year since you were born? Have you even looked at what’s inside the journal your mother gave you? This is serious and you are the chosen one.” Flinching at the tone of her voice, I think about what she’s saying.

            “Please don’t call me ‘the chosen one’.” I accidently say aloud. Rolling her eyes, she sighs and walks into the other room. I stay on the couch and think about everything Anya said since I got here. As hard as it is for me to believe I’m a part of some prophesy, she made some good points. I know how serious this is but… me? How am I supposed to stop some evil douche bag sorcerer? My mom still has to remind me to do my laundry. What am I going to do? Replaying what Anya said in my head for the billionth time, I figure out what I should do first. Might as well read the damn journal. Taking it out of my bag, I set it down on the table and try to open it.

            “Anya! I need your help!” I yell into the house. She comes walking into the room and leans on the doorframe.

            “What do you need, dear?” she asks nicely, thankfully she’s not angry anymore. Seeing her like that made me really uneasy.

            “I can’t open my moms journal.” Gesturing to the journal with agitation.

            “Have you tried the necklace?” she asks like it should be obvious. Whoops. I forgot about the necklace, that’s why Ma gave it to me?

            Walking over and sitting next to me on the couch, she picks the journal up and hands it to me.

            “Hold the necklace against the journal and say ‘avata detorum’, haven’t you been studying Fiahin and Doklari?” she questions, confused by my lack of knowledge.

            “Yes, I’ve been studying the God Language and the language the Zudoist practitioners speak. I’ve also been studying Dragon Tongue, if you didn’t know. I’m just really stressed out right now, as you can imagine and spells and magic languages aren’t at the top of my mind right now.” I reply with agitation. I’m not upset with Anya, it’s this whole situation. I’m in over my head. Focusing on my intent, I repeat the spell while holding the journal to my chest so it lays against the necklace. When I see the stone on the necklace glow green I know it worked.

            “I know, I’m sorry. This must all be extremely overwhelming. Just because I’ve been able to come to terms with it doesn’t mean I can expect you to come to terms with it right away.  I’ve had years to prepare, you have days.” Anya says gently as she places her hand on my shoulder for comfort.

            Placing my mother’s journal back on the table, I prepare myself to learn the truth. Whether I like it or not.