Synergy

Synergy

By

Jamie Magee

“There is no chance, no destiny, no fate that can circumvent or hinder or control the firm resolve of a determined soul.”
Ella Wilcox

For every soul this daydream was meant to find…

Chapter One

Fear. Fear of the end of existence consumes me, and I don’t know how I know, but I know it’s my fault. The ash is thick, so thick that I can’t see more than a few feet in front of me. The scream
s of the women and children
shred
into my soul. I’m running, but I can’t breathe; the air is toxic. I keep telling myself only a few more feet and I’ll be safe, I’ll beg for forgiveness and this will be over, we’ll all be saved -
-
but I stumble on the hollow rocks that are falling from the sky. A woman reaches to help me up. I can’t understand her, but I see the pleading in her eyes; it’s as if she knows I can stop this. I rise to my feet, grab her arm, and run again. Just as I reach the door I
wanted to find, I feel a powerful
hand on my sho
ulder stopping me. Darkness comes. Death comes. A
ll is lost.

That’s when I wake coughing, drenched in sweat – on the verge of crying. I keep thinking that if I can reach the door in my dream that may
be I can solve this nightmare.
I don’t know if it’s a warning, if this has happened, or if it’s just symbolic to what’s going on in my life. I know one
thing, though:
I feel Silas there. The darkest part of me tells me that he’s the death that’s calling, that behind that door is Draven, and that I’m never in time to save him. With that thought, the tears that I’m too stubborn to let fall begin to glass over my eyes, my heart races, and dread comes over every inch of my trembling body.

Two weeks ago, I turned eighteen. It was the day that followed the ni
ght that I fought Bianca in The R
ealm and helped Draven through his test. Silas had warned me that the light that I was -
-
or the light that was in me -
-
would become too bright to be resisted, that the fate that I’d dreaded would finally be here. The only thing that changed on my birthday was the birth of the nightmare that I have each and every time I dare to close my eyes; beyond that, it’s been quiet...almost too quiet.

Draven has spent eve
ry day, all day at the school.
I guess you could
call it an arts center by now.
He and the others were writ
ing, playing for hours on end.
We’re rarely alone, and when we are, it’s tense. We ignore the elephant in the room. We ignore that though he’d passed his test and stayed in this world that now he
was officially an E
scort, that his instinct was telling him to pull light to him, to create darkness. He hadn’t given in to that call, but I swear at times I could see the thirst in his eyes. 

I would try to hold him, talk to him about our past in this life. I still can’t remember most of it, but he can, and I knew if he thought of those happy moments that his emotions would be in balance and the anger would stay at bay. That thought process would work for a while, a few hours at least, but then he’d slip inside himself and the grief for what he thought would never happen again -
-
our happiness -
-
would take over. At that point, he always left my side as quickly as he could, making it clear that I was a temptation that he was fighting, that this unseeable war of light and darkness had placed a permanent divide between us.

Those weren’t the only times he blocked me out. He never wanted me near him when he was writing aggressive songs that pulled t
hose dark emotions out of him.
I didn’t want to make anything ha
rder on him, but not writing
with him, knowing he was writing with Winston and Grayson instead, always left me bitter.

I felt like I was his part-time girlfriend, allowed to see him calm, almost happy, but not at any other time.

I tried to keep myself busy with school, spending most of my time at the library prepping for finals, which was all I had left to do for the semester.  Madison was always with me, but she wasn’t studying for school; she was studying something much more interesting, darker. She’d pulled books on every folklore or myth that had ever been written. She
had notebooks full of symbols.
She was trying to find something that could protect us, some kind of peaceful barrier we could use. I helped w
hen I became bored with school.

I hoped within the pages of all the lore that perhaps I would learn of herbs or something
that I could wear or do that would make Draven feel more at ease around me, but it’s hard to mask who you are - and no one should have to around the one they love.

Grayson had told me that Dr
aven now saw things differently. S
aw me differently. That when I was happy, my aura shifted, became brighter, and that sha
de was what was so inviting to E
scorts. Knowing that, I found a way to hold those emotions in around all of them. That’s harder than it sounds because the only time I’m really
happy is when Draven’s with me. W
hen I know he’s safe.

I hadn’t seen Silas, but I could feel him when I l
eft my home.
From time to time, I’d see a butte
rfly dance by me and I would always think of him
. I wanted to talk to him, but I knew that it would just be the same argument. He would promise me that he’d end Draven’s life t
he moment he had an excuse.
I just didn’t want to hear that.

I hadn’t given up on leaving for Chara. I would even see my way there at least once a day, standing on the hill and watching the house that I knew belonged to Willow and Landen. I’d yet to find them at home, though; I assumed they were in that dark place called Esterious, but I couldn’t bring myself to see my way there, to see that dark prince. His image haunted me.

When Madison was in deep thought, her hands were always sketching, and that prince’s image would come to life with little effort. When she realized what she
was doing, she’d rip it up.
I’d look away and block the thoughts I had about him, the moment I’d seen him in that dark world. I was afraid that if she left for Chara with me that she’d see him. I didn’t think she was ready for that, but at the same time I didn’t think I could leave without her. I was torn on what would be the right thing to do when that moment finally came.

When Madison wasn’t with me, she was with Britain. Though they weren’t officially a couple, I could see how he made her happy; it was a shallow happiness, though, because according to her, she was on a spiritual journey, one that had no room for a boyfriend.

I assumed
that thought process came from the books she was reading, the ones that spoke of illumination, finding your truth. Over the last few days, we’d debated the idea that life was nothing but a dream created by our thoughts and intent, that everything before us was nothing but a distraction to what life, existence really was.

The debate was that she’d pretty much committed to that belief, that she was seeking answers on a deeper level. My argument was that life was too real to be a dream. That even if she were right, this theory of hers, we were lucid in this dream. I did agree that most of the world was not, but the shadows, the darkness that we’d helped all of our lives, led me to believe that dream or not, we had a purpose, one that would bring change to all of existence, one that would correct the wrong that was once done.

I feared that her newfound spiritual path had allowed her not to fear
Britain,
as she should; she seemed to accept what he was without question.  Madison told me that she not only had to accept him, but also the
shadows if she were to raise above dualit
ies, the idea that one thing is
right or wrong. Madison thought that we were all right and all wrong, that we only saw something as dark if it wasn’t as we believed. Once again, I both agreed and disagreed. I was happy that the anger she had for the shadows we were forced into helping was gone, that she now helped with compassion and patience - but at the same time, I couldn’t rise above my hatred for Bianca, or others like her.

When Madison spoke harshly a
bout her or when we went to The R
ealm to hunt her, I would tease her about her new moral standing with dualities, and she’d counter that she was new at this and that some hate takes time to die. Basically, she hated her as much as I did and sought revenge as if it were her heart, her
boyfriend, which
was tempted by Bianca. I assumed it was her sixth sense that fueled this, the fact that she could not only see, but also feel my emotions as if they were hers.

I was afraid that Austin would come back and either Draven wouldn’t tell me or he’d tell him that we weren’t ready, so I made it a point to see Wesley every day. We’d become friends - jogging buddies, at leas
t. Every morning
we ran two miles around the town of Salem. The workout helped me release all those built up emotions and some of the stress.

I reached for my phon
e to see that it was now 5:55 AM
. Those numbers haunted me, and I didn’t know why. I felt like they were a sign. I even had Madison look them up for me, and what she found was both reassuring and frightening. Those numbers stood for change; they were a message from our spirit guides (if you believe in such things) that a life-changing event or events were near.

I threw back my covers and sat up as I grudgingly rubbed my hands across my face. The gentle sound of my father’s guitar elevated as if to say hello. I smiled slightly.

“Bad dreams, Dad.” I nodded at my phone. “5:55 again...are you trying to say something? Is it almost time to leave?”

The sound of the guitar didn’t change. I sighed as I stood and half-heartedly pulled my covers over my bed before walking down the steps to my old room. Lately, my father had kept his distance; there wasn’t room for him in my dreams with the nightmares, and he rarely appeared in my waking hours. I almost felt like he was preparing me for a goodbye by not letting me become dependent on him, on his direction.

When I reached the bottom stair, I found Madison’s bed empty, but Monroe was in hers, and she wasn’t sleeping soundly; she was drenched i
n sweat, and she was thrashing
her head from side to side as if she were witnessing something horrible. I ran to her side, grabbed her shoulder
s, and shook her awake. She shot
up, letting out a deep gasp of breath. Her dark eyes were wide as she tried to gauge where she was.

“Look at me
! L
ook at me!” I said loudly as I pushed her wet hair out of her eyes. “Just a dream...just a dream...you’re fine.”

She shook her head from side to side, telling me I was wrong. I sat down next
to
her and tried to hide the concern in my eyes.

“Did you dream of ash
? S
creaming?”

She looked down. “Father,” she whispered.

I tried to remain calm, but my eyes grew wide. Monroe had never talked about her father. None of us knew who or what he was, or even where, but we had ou
r suspicions that he was in The R
ealm somewhere. Madison even thought he was controlling it somehow. Grayson and Winston didn’t offer much insight on the matter either...well, at least I think they didn’t; for all I know, they could have told Draven since they were all best friends now.

“What happened?” I asked gently.

“He wants me to come.”
She quivered.

“Come where, Monroe?”

She looked away, avoiding my eyes.

“Listen, you aren’t going anywhere you don’t want to go, you hear
me? I’ll protect you – I swear
.”

She swallowed hard. “He’ll hurt you…he’s sending more...because those that are here refuse to take your light.”