Ok… I need to write faster than I can post them up. :P
Phase 3: JASMIN
She had been singing to her children when something warned her.
With a gentle voice to the children, she told them to go hide in the place that they felt most comfortable in. They did as they asked, her lovely seven children. Unfortunately she knew their ultimate fate, but that did not mean that she would give them up so easily. Everything her mother had taught her she called to mind now, even as she stood up and turned towards the door, her voice normal and misleading.
“Who is it?” she asked, hiding her open-palmed right hand behind her skirts.
“Milady, it’s Jouna.” The maid was a favorite of hers, if only because the two of them had been dedicated to the same Goddess, though Jouna’s was of chastity and hers was of childbirth. She prayed that the Goddess had not abandoned her now.
“Milady?” the door opened quietly, and the pretty maid in the red came in. Her voice was low as she made her way to her mistress. “The ride is here for the children, milady.” the maid bowed.
“Very well,” she had replied, looking about her. “I’ll take the twins only,” she had borne two sets of twins. “The others will stay here till I come back,” Jouna had nodded and left the room to prepare.
She knew very well that she and her children were going to their deaths, but she had not been teaching them the Ancient Lore for nothing. Her mother would also be here in a little bit, and that was a small comfort to her. Her children were not meant for politics or high-level conspiracies; like her, they were meant for a simple life, one without complications. As long as they carried that blood within them though, a simple life was not for them. Perhaps, it was merciful that they rarely grew old enough to know what they really were. The ones that did, like her, were the sad ones, not the ones that left this world early.
From a window, a young boy and two girls peered out to watch the procession. The youngest was only 5 years old, two years older than the twins. The next oldest was 7 years old, also a girl. Their brother was the eldest, at 12. He was two years younger than the twins that were helping their mother and the second set of twins into the horse driven carriage. For a long moment, he envied the twins who seemed to spend so much time with mother. Mother had told him though, that no matter what, the girls had to survive, for they hold the secret of immortality in their bodies. He too, held that secret, but his mother had warned him that such a secret was not to be shared lightly.
“For a man it is easy to give these secrets away, but for a woman it allows her to control who gets it. You must never abuse this, my son. It is too easy to misuse, and the pain of your power can haunt even your descendants,” he had understood that part, for father had always been about bloodline and passing the traits down.
“But mother, what if I can’t help it?” he wailed almost plaintively.
“You will, my son. I did it, so can you,” she hugged him one last time and then left.
Now, as they watched their mother leave, he was filled with a sense of foreboding. His youngest sister held on to him tightly, almost afraid. She was shivering, and he too felt a coldness. Their mother looked at them watching her before she stepped into the carriage. her smile chilly. She seemed to know something they did not, and was smiling at someone else. They would never forgot how their mother looked like at that moment, haughty and cold like a queen, regal and knowing like a empress, and knowing and mysterious like a Priestess. When she stepped into the carriage, little did they know that it was the last they would see her…
PHASE 2: Wings
They heard the man screaming, and turned to watch him streak down the street, oblivious to everything.
“Is that…?” Yang-Ger was not sure whether he should even ask.
“He’s an old hippie who likes to streak often. Don’t ask us why,” Giselle pulled the traveling bag from under her bed and checked it. “We need provisions,” she headed downstairs without waiting for the two, taking her bag with her.
Eliza went looking for her own supply to make sure she had everything she needed. More importantly, she thought as she looked for the second pouch she had sewn to the bag, were the herbs still in good condition? She opened the pouch just a bit to gain a hint of their aroma, and it assured her that the herbs were still potent. Yang-Ger waited patiently for her, and then they both headed downstairs, where Eliza scribbled a hasty note to the beautiful people who had been taking care of them ever since their parents died. They knew who the girls really were, in a manner of speaking, but they did not quite understand. If you were not born to this life, you may not be able to understand it. Even she did not understand it, but she knew her purpose. She knew her powers and limitations. More importantly, she knew what she had been born to do. Though it was not easy.
As her sister and Yang-Ger talked about their journey, she took a long look at the kitchen. There was a picture of her and Giselle with their adoptive family, taken but two months ago. It was one hung in a place of pride, and she knew that they loved her and her sister. She walked into the living room, and looked along the walls for something. Upon finding it, she took it from the wall and rolled it up carefully. Her sister called her, and she went to her. Before leaving the room, she took one last look, lovingly. Her gaze fell upon the vase of flowers located next to the mantle piece, a collection of lovely wildflowers, the kinds that she loved. Closing her eye, she muttered something and reached out to the flowers, as though inviting someone to take her hand.
Her sister came rushing in as soon as she started muttering, but it was done. There was a pale-yellow line that ran from her to the plant, and as it faded, Eliza fainted. The dark-haired child simply crumpled forward, and Yang-Ger caught her in a flash, surprising Giselle. His look was tender on Eliza as he laid her on the couch and he stroked her hair. At that moment, Giselle realised that her brother had grown since they were last children. She still remembered him before they came to live with this family. He was ten, she was eight, and little Eliza was four. As he was old enough, they had taken him away to be trained. No one told them what he was being trained for, but Giselle could guess. It was the reason, she had once overheard, why she and Eliza were not separated, but why they had been kept together.
She hated being part of a legend, but if being a legend meant that she would never again be separated from the ones that she loved, it was a small price to pay.