Rosaendra kept her head down. Whenever she raised it she would see something that would drive that spike of burgeoning insanity further into her mind. The signs taped up on the windows of the bus that had once shown the same phrase in 10 different languages, now only said it in English. Every single person around her only spoke English; though she knew some of them by sight to be a family of immigrants who lived in her apartments and knew very little of it.
No. No. No no no. It wasn’t true. This was a continuation of that dream from last night. Or, perhaps, the dream was a revelation. No. No. That couldn’t be.
She exhaled a sharp stream of air out of her nostrils. No. It was happening. What that meant, she could figure that out later. For now, however, it was illogical to deny it was happening. It was. To drive this point home she navigated to a Japanese news station on YouTube. She could understand them all. It was a weather warning released a couple of months ago for Okinawa. She could read all of the comments, as well. She turned off her phone. Whatever was happening was real. There was no doubting that. What other explanation could there be? She had heard of stroke victims suddenly speaking perfect French or Spanish before, but a stroke victim who didn’t know they had a stroke and could understand every language? Unheard of. That left only one explanation.
Unconsciously her fingers felt the bulge inside of her backpack where the journal and the dagger sat. Her foot tapped against the floor and her mind went to places they hadn’t in years. Since, before the Compound was swept through by the FBI. She watched each bus stop with anticipation. Four more until home. They stopped outside of a dollar store. Two people got on. Two more. They stopped outside a coffee shop. One more. Hurry up. After they stopped one more time, she pulled the cord and the little digital bell rang and the bus soon came to a stop. She was the first one out the door. Her feet never felt lighter as she pushed open the umbrella, and glided across the rain-soaked parking lot as she hurried back to her apartment.
She climbed the stairs and rounded the corner to her open hallway and closed the umbrella, so it didn’t bump against the low-hanging ceiling. She pushed through her room and gave the 3 a spin as she pushed open the door, clicked the lock, sat on the edge of her bed, and emptied the contents of her bag onto her bed first she reached for the mirror and clicked it open.
Hello again, Rosaendra. Do you need something?
There was the softest of whispers at the very edge of her hearing.
“So this is all real?”
Is what?
“The world is going to be invaded? What’s my part in it? How do I help?”
At midnight tonight Doors across the world will open that connect our world to Efra.
“What is Efra?”
Efra is a world that had once been our neighbor. It was conquered by Roki, a wandering God. Roki is now looking at us and has begun the process of connecting our worlds to initiate a take-over of our’s.
“So...what? What do you want me to do? I’m one person.”
No. Millions have been chosen to push back against this threat. And millions more will be called in the future. For now, however, you and the first of the chosen, shall be our vanguard.
“Vanguard? What do you mean?”
It will take five years for the connections to our world to stabilize, during that time, however, we can strike back and close the connections. You will go into these doors and remove the anchor that is holding them into our world. That is what is meant by Vanguard.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“How am I supposed to remove these anchors? What do they look like?”
It will differ from door to door so it is hard to say. We will be able to tell you once you’re there, however.
“Who is, 'we?'”
The gods and the intelligent spirits of our world. It threatens all of our existence, so for now, we have put aside our squabbles and will work together.
“How does it threaten your existence? What are gods? Do you have physical bodies?” The term, ‘intelligent spirit,’ spoke for itself.
I am not a god. I am a servitor created by and bound to Hecate. As for the answer to your question, Gods are spiritual beings that can take any form they desire. A human. A goose. A fly on your wall. Anything.
“What separates a God from an ‘intelligent spirit?’”
Worship and dedication. Centuries of worship have elevated certain spiritual beings and defined them. Zeus began his existence as an intelligent spirit of the air, for example.
Rosaendra shook her head. There were more important things to discuss other that the nature of gods and spiritual beings.
“How do you expect me to fight? Just with that dagger? Surely that’s not enough.”
No. Hecate has blessed you with abilities, and the ability to get more abilities and to grow stronger. The details are within the Grimoire she gave you.
She dug around the pile on her bed until she came across the crimson book with the strange wooden wheel in the middle. Her fingers dug into the side and she tried to pry it open. It took a couple of quick pulls before she relented and lifted the mirror.
“It won’t open.”
It needs to be bound to you.
“How would I do that?”
Use the Athame, and prick one of your fingers. Let the blade drink.
Rosaendra pulled the sheathed knife from the pile and drew it. The dark wood glistened in the halogen light of her room. She bit down on her tongue and pressed the point of the knife against her thumb, and winced as blood began to flow over the blade. The crimson liquid soaked into the blade like water into a sponge. The athame glowed a dark red light, and the wheel on the grimoire began to turn. Soon, the edge of the book let out a loud crack, and it opened itself to the first page.
The page was of a strange material. It was white and felt as hard as stone, but was as pliable as a gel when she prodded it with her finger. The white material caught the yellow glow of the light bulb and reflected it back in a prismatic manner — oranges and gold glimmering beneath its circle. Over this material, deep red words began to form.
This grimoire is bound to one Rosaendra Atherton
26 years of Age
Initiate of Hecate
BP 0
She had plenty of questions.
“What is this material?” She asked the black mirror.
It is a shard of the Bifrost that was shattered during the last Ragnarok.
“The Bifrost? The rainbow bridge from Norse myth?”
One and the same.
“What does BP stand for?”
Blood Points. When you let your blade drink the blood of one of Roki’s minions, you will be granted SP depending on the strength of the blood.
“What can they do?”
You can use them to gain new knowledge or absorb them into yourself to increase the strength of your body, soul or mind. You can use them to increase the strength of your spells, or you can use them to learn more.
“What spells do I know already?”
Turn the page.
Rosaendra did just that. On the page were three entries.
Blood Spells:
Blind - Your blood will assail your enemy’s eyes, blinding them in a red haze
Seal– Your blood can heal the wounds of those assisting you, at your will.
Burn - Your blood burns hot and will boil the target’s blood within their veins.
“How can I use these? And can I use Seal on myself?”
Through the use of mana you can manipulate your blood in a variety of ways. Using BP these ways can be revealed to you, or you can discover these ways through experimentation. You cannot use Seal on yourself.
“What is mana, exactly?”
Mana is a connecting force. It exists within everything and everyone. It is everywhere all at once.
“I don’t understand.” Rosaendra said, “Connecting force? Does that mean I’m connected to this building?” She tapped her foot against the ground.
Yes. Everything. It is natural to not understand. It is the difference between the Atman and the Brahman. The initiate and the sage.
“There are more people who have been chosen, you say? How many?”
About 120 million. We only have chosen those with a good nature, and who we believe can be of help. Though some of the trickster gods have made some...questionable choices.
“Oh. 120 million? So it won’t take long. Right?”
There came no answer to her question.
“Right?”