Sundance

Sundance

Book Two of the

‘Council of Twelve’ - Series

by Aurora Jean Alexander

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright Registration© February 2019

To my Dad,

who challenged, without insulting

who educated, without humiliating

who taught me how to ski, to swim and to read at an age where other kids were still learning their colors

who taught me to accept without judgment

and who handed me down his humor.

Thank you for teaching me how to love unconditionally and how to laugh.

I will always miss you!

Prologue:

When they took me into his bedroom, I was prepared for something bad, but I had no idea HOW bad it was. I didn't anticipate what his injuries, his pain, and his suffering would do to me. I did not in the slightest expect how strong the effect on me would be.

I heard his voice in my head: Please, my heart, please… I need you! I did what I was supposed to do: I took off to be by his side. He had done that for me so many times in the past, that no matter how important my current task, I did not hesitate for one second.

Within the blink of an eye, I was in front of their house. I did not need to do anything. The door opened and his friend was there. It was the same man who was his friend, backup, brother and right hand. One glimpse of his ashen face was enough.

Where? I asked.

Nau'len's hoarse voice replied. His room

I wanted to pass him and was surprised to observe Nau'len's hand on my arm.

Ye-to – appariee pau'ké.

I nodded and pressed his wrist with my other to signify that this came from one warrior to another. I understood what he had said since Nau'len, and I originally came from the same country. But at this moment, I didn't care what our roots were. It was important to convince him I wasn't scared. That's what he said: 'Be careful – he is dangerous.'

Nau'len took his hand off my arm and I went on, my steps calm and light. I expected the situation to be bad, but still, my feet automatically took me to Anaan's bedroom. It was the same room where I had seen him the first time in reality. Neither in my fantasies nor in my dreams, had I ever believed Anaan would be flesh and blood, no matter how many times I met him or how many times he had saved me. It was only three lives away yet it still seemed like an eternity.

The battles we fought together had forged an inseparable connection between us. It was like a chain I often gripped in sheer desperation and Anaan had never given up on me. He was my anchor, my savior, a rock in the ocean of my existence.

I did not care how bad it would be or how dangerous he was at this moment. He had asked for my help, and I would be there for him.

Nau'len opened the door for me. And Anaan's other friend closed it behind me. They both looked highly alarmed; worried even.

When I entered the room, I saw the reason.

I found Anaan tied to the bed. I smelled magic on the metal. It was important that they used magic on the ties, no matter how strong they were, Anaan would have broken them like they were paper. The entire bedroom, his beautiful, tastefully decorated male bedroom, was destroyed. There was nothing left other than shards, splinters and broken pieces. It looked like a tornado had crossed the room.

I could have cried, but when I examined Anaan more closely, it was worse than I thought. He was bleeding. Not from one particular place but literally, all over his entire body.

All over his skin, the flesh was broken open and released new blood. Even though the wounds closed quickly, other cuts opened up in various other places. It looked like his skin was living its own life. His hair was dirty, filthy and it stank and his eyes were swollen closed.

His nails were gray and grew so quickly I could see it, only to break when Anaan clawed the dirty bed. Then they would regrow and make his hands look like they had been half cut off.

The mattress beneath him had developed a pond of blood and reeked as it turned ugly and rust-colored.

I understood I had to help him. In my naivety, I thought I could. Wasn't I able to heal? Wasn't I able to relieve all kinds of pain and suffering? Wasn't I good personified?

I stepped to the bed, took the smell in. The terrible shape he was in shocked me. I had never seen Anaan that badly hurt and in such horrible pain! Anaan, who was always so strong, so uncompromising, so powerful!

I sat down by his side and whispered, I'm here, my love. I'm here, by your side, where I belong.

Again, I heard his voice in my head. I sensed relief and hope.

Good. he sighed.

I did what I would normally do in a situation like this. I placed my cool, softly sparkling hand on his forehead to take the worst of the pain away.

This time it was different, however. Instead of slowly taking in the pain from his injured body and absorbing it using my particular strengths, I went through all the pain and suffering. All the terrible situations, everything bad and evil that had contaminated and poisoned him, jumped over into me.

The powerful movement of this evil act threw me from his side and I ended up crashing into the wall by the door. I screamed. My high-pitched voice made the window glass break, and the shards flew through the room like silvery bullets. They cut into my skin, but did not hurt. More than the blood, I was mortified by the horror of the pain and fights that my touch had revealed.

The crash had broken something on my back. I experienced the pain of breaking bones, tearing tendons and destroyed muscles. To me, it seemed like I was dying.

For a second, I hung on the wall. I saw Anaan's beautiful muscular body sitting up, his clear eyes scanning the room for me and the emerging pain in his eyes when he saw what happened. He screamed my name, SUNDANCE! Noooooooooooo!

Chapter 1

Igrew up with amazing parents that treated me like a little princess. I was spoiled and was constantly surrounded by sweetness and love, so much that, when I think of my childhood, my teeth ache.

I was about seven years old when, finally, I got wind of my future. I fell outside while playing and, even though my world wasn’t exactly in splinters, I wanted to run inside whining. I knew, if I did, I’d be covered in love, warmth and sweet songs to heal my knee.

That day now I would realize there, indeed, was something special about me. I had hoped it, almost expected it, but I couldn’t be sure.

I forgot all about my knee when I listened to my mother and my father talking.

Why does it have to be so difficult? my mother sighed.

My Dad hugged her tightly. Such a demonstration of love and affection was normal in our family, and I didn’t think about it any further. What confused me, as a little child, was the fact that this was apparently a hug of comfort, not of pure love. What was so difficult that my mother was talking about? What worried her so much that she needed comfort?

My mother leaned into my father’s arms. I had so much wished something else for our little girl.

My Dad hid his face in her hair and softly replied, I know. Believe me, I’m going through the same emotions.

I could hardly resist keeping my mouth shut, but I steeled my child-sized will to do so. I wanted to listen to what it was that made my mother need comfort. Nobody in our family was ever sad.

Finally, my Dad’s head cocked up, and a wide smile spread across his face. His voice softly called me, Cara, since you’re already eavesdropping, why don’t you come here and we can try to answer your questions?

I stepped around the furniture, and my mother smiled forcefully while my Dad chuckled.

When my mother saw the cut on my knee, she seemed to be shocked. Oh no! Cara, what happened to you?

I only shrugged. Don’t worry. I’m fine.

My Dad’s eyes widened, and he muttered: That’s a first.

That made my mother giggle. My Dad took my hand and asked me to sit down. He then took a position in his chair and folded his hands while softly telling me, I understand you’re worried, my daughter. I figure it is because you saw your mother sad.

I nodded, unable to choke out even the smallest sound.

My Dad’s face was as earnest as I had ever seen it before. He took a deep breath. Cara, when we were blessed with you, you weren’t just a gift to us, but a miracle. We wanted a child so badly we prayed for a miracle and, unexpectedly, we received an offer. We were told our prayers had been heard. We would get our child, but not as a gift, as a ‘loan'. It was said that we were supposed to take good care of this child since it would only be ours for seven years. You, Cara, will be seven years old next week. We will try to make our farewell as easy as possible. We have no idea how and when it will happen or why you will be taken from us. We only know it is one of the worst things that could ever happen to us. There would only be one thing worse, to have never had you in our lives.

I swallowed, realizing my throat was dry and sore. I wanted to cry, but no tears came. I was at a loss for words. My father seemed to be worried. After a long break, he finally said, Cara, do you think you could say something so I can see you’re still breathing?

I croaked. I’m going to have to leave you?

My Dad nodded. Yes, my child.

But I don’t want to go anywhere.

My Dad took both of my hands in his. I don’t want to let you go, my sweet girl. But our time together is nearly up. There is no additional deal. There will not be any reasoning. It will be the way it has to be. He swallowed hard to prevent himself from crying. I could see how touched he was and I loved him even more for being strong for me.

I fell into his arms and sobbed until I fell asleep. When I woke up, I wasn’t doing well. My head hurt and, even though I was covered in sweat, I shuddered and froze. My eyelids were heavy. With a dry and aching throat, I called my mother.

The door opened and she entered my tiny bedroom. When she looked at me and touched my forehead she called my father. It seemed to me she tried to act like this was the most normal thing in the world; their little girl had a cold, but I still caught the edge in her voice.

Of course, they called the doctor. Of course, he came over. I wasn’t too surprised hearing him say that my fever was too high for him to do anything for me. My condition was critical, and I grew weaker by the hour. My Mom cooked soup, merely to calm herself since I was in no condition to eat. I drank some water occasionally, but that was all I could manage.

It was not even two days later, when the doctor was with me, that I was even too tired to lift my head. He finally called my parents. They whispered something I couldn’t understand and my mother silently sobbed while she kissed my forehead. I noticed my father’s hand on mine and that was the last thing I experienced before I fell asleep…

*****

I opened my eyes to warm, bright light. I was a little sleepy but, other than that, everything was fine. I was sitting in something like a soft tub. Everything around me was mild, soft and comfortable. I could have imagined myself nested in the middle of a bed of cotton candy. Soft voices came from somewhere outside and I was curious. Slowly, step by step, my spirit became stronger, my eyes opened wide and I was urged to get out of whatever I was in. I carefully stretched. I seemed to grow somehow as I rose from my seated position and whatever was surrounding me opened.

The voices I heard were silenced. It was perfectly calm and cozy. The light grew a little brighter. Still, it was nice as it seemed to embrace me. My view became clear and I looked into the faces of numerous extraordinarily beautiful people. They all looked ‘neutral' Somehow. There was no other word to describe them. They were dressed in long robes of different colors such as white, yellow, light blue, rose, pink and mint green There were too many to take them all in.

I only stared, not knowing what to say or if I was supposed to say anything at all, so I remained silent. When I checked, I realized I was now standing in something that looked like a fully blossomed golden tulip. Around me, there were other big blooms in different colors. Apparently, mine seemed to be the only gold one.

I waited. Slowly the other blossoms started opening as well, one after the other. I watched when other children stretched and silently stood in the very same positions. Apparently, they were as shy as I was, waiting for what would be next. After the last tulip finally opened, there were exactly twenty of us.

Those that were waiting for us slowly formed into some semblance of organization. They approached the flower that matched the color of their dresses. After a respectful bow and a softly whispered ‘welcome,’ I was the only one waiting until the person in white finally released me from my flower, lowered me down and with a soft smile asked us to follow.

We were four children marching behind our guides. As the last one in the row, I watched all of the others and realized they all looked ‘neutral’ somehow. I too was dressed in some nightgown, and I wondered