Transcending the Legacy Read online

  Venessa Kimball

  Crushing Hearts and Black Butterfly Publishing, LLC.

  Novi, Michigan 48374

  The right of Venessa Kimball to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him/her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it was published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Cover Design by SK Whiteside

  Edited by

  Elizabeth A. Lance

  Copyright© 2014

  All rights reserved

  Published by

  Crushing Hearts and Black Butterfly Publishing, LLC.

  Novi, Michigan 48374

  - Etowah Mounds, Georgia 1830AD

  Two strong, tan hands strike a rawhide drum in turn.

  Bum…bum.

  The natives move swiftly among their thatched huts, readying for the strike, the battle.

  Bum…bum…bum.

  Dressed in deerskin cloaks and battling spears, bows, and arrows in hand, the native warriors and uniformed soldiers begin to congregate in the village square to set up post.

  Bum…bum…bum...bum.

  Face painted red to resemble the warring time of his forefathers, a boy perches on the village palisade on the southern most edge. The splash in the river draws his chestnut eyes to the horses carrying the soldiers of evolution.

  He turns, cups his hands around his mouth, and wails a warning to his people.

  Bum..bum..bum..bum, tick.

  The champion natives and those foreign that have joined their fight ready themselves to meet the challenge; The legacy must be drawn before they are attacked. Among them, white men with eyes the color of forests and blue skies. Pale skins etched with the markings of Creek warriors.

  Bum..bum..bum..bum, tick, tick.

  A white man, a soldier comes into the light from a darkened thatched hut with a native woman and girl. They run huddled together toward the tallest of the mounds that encircle their village.

  Bum..bum..bum..bum, tick, tick, tick, tick.

  Before the white man urges them to quickly move into the depths of the mound, he takes hold of the native woman and pulls her to him.

  Bum..bum..bum..bum, tick, tick, tick, tick, bum.

  Within the depths of the mound is a snaking passage that rises, falls, twists, and turns. The final rise is steep as the woman and girl climb higher and higher into the mound.

  Bum..bum..bum..bum, tick, tick, tick, tick, bum…bum.

  The woman and girl descend a wooden ladder into a hollow cavern. A man sits across from both of them, aged bronze leather skin with the markings of his battles on his cheekbones and forehead. Unruly and thinning white hair frames his face and timeworn copper eyes. He has kindled a fire within the pit beneath the opening of the hollow den. He beckons the woman and girl to join him around the fire pit. A shaman, he is a high priest.

  Bum..bum..bum..bum, tick, tick, tick, tick, bum..bum.

  The slow and steady hum echoing from the leathery hands beating the taut rawhide in the distance employs a faster, hypnotic pace now.

  Bum, bum, bum, bum, tick, tick, tick, tick, bum, bum, bum, bum, tick, tick, tick, tick.

  The fire between the high priest and the woman and girl blazes blue and orange, dancing up toward the open air shaft. The blue glow of night seeps through the opening, meeting the fiery blaze.

  Bum, bum, bum, bum, tick, tick, tick, tick, bum, bum, bum, bum, bum, tick, tick, tick, tick.

  The shaman releases an ancient chant, filling the empty space between the measured percussions of the drum.

  Bum...bum...bum...bum, tick, tick, tick, tick, bum...bum...bum...bum...bum.

  The soldiers ascend the rocky rising plateau and climb the stone palisade, surpassing the indigenous barrier. One trooper stands out among them; he is their leader. He drives the soldier’s cadence passing the huts to the village center where they converge with the resistance, those bound to guard.

  Bum, bum, bum, bum, tick, tick, tick, tick, bum, bum, bum, bum, bum.

  As the shaman continues crooning his exotic intonations, he draws up a primitive copper disc from around his neck. The woman walks around the fire to the high priest and without a word exchanged, he hands her the small amber disc. Carrying it back to the girl, shakily the woman holds it out to her and the girl takes the amber medallion in her open hand.

  Bum, bum, bum, bum, tick, tick, tick, tick, bum, bum, bum, bum, bum.

  The attacking commander makes his move and his warring soldiers follow, pushing against the native resistance. The indigene, guardians, they do not back down, fighting for everything they have and hold dear.

  Bum, bum, bum, bum, tick, tick, tick, tick, bum, bum, bum, bum, bum.

  The woman forces the girl’s palm closed around the amber disc before she steps away from the girl.

  Bum, bum, bum, bum, tick, tick, tick, tick, bum, bum, bum, bum, bum.

  The shaman’s humming intensifies as the dialect demands an understanding beyond the native words; a promise of a potent legacy that must be carried on, carried out through this girl.

  Bum, bum, tick, tick, tick, bum, bum.

  The young girl’s bronze skin glows from the flames that continue their dance within the pit. The rhythm of the drums swells to meet the high priest’s rousing incantation and the quickening ripple of the pyre.

  Bum, bum, tick, tick, tick, bum, bum.

  Standing before the mounted soldiers and approaching commander, the white man descends the side of the highest mound and confronts him nose to nose. He hisses, “Take me. I will sacrifice my freedom for theirs.”

  Bum, bum, tick, tick, tick, bum, bum.

  The soldier sneers, “Your sacrifice is worth nothing to me. What we want is behind you.”

  The commander shoves the white man, giving launch to the battle.

  Bum, bum, tick, tick, tick, bum, bum.

  The native princess clutches the golden metal in one hand, spreads her arms wide, closes her eyes, and releases an amber blaze from her figure into the kiva. The essence she surrenders transcends to meet the ascending blue iridescent glow emanating from the small hatch above.

  * * *

  The monotonous lull of the aircraft engine ripens, silencing the thrum of the drumbeat and pulling my mind back from the vision I have had since I was a child. It has changed very little as far as the images, but the meaning has evolved as I have grown. The Copula, it was born from this vision. The magic of that medallion held in the hands of that beautiful princess as she surrendered her spirit, her vitality, to the ethereal. Daily I would fixate on the medallion, what it could be used for and how it could save those around it. Yes, it started out rudimentary...a child’s imagining mind. As I matured and the questions about my lineage were left unanswered by my parent’s, I sought out answers for myself, which led to my obsession of my ancestry and the discovery of an old rivalry; Jaeger Sanderson, father of Michael Sanderson.

  To this day, I wonder what sparked the provenance of the Copula’s design within me? Was it a divine vision sent and planted within me from beyond our world? The curiosity that stirred within me, was that divine as well. If it was sent from beyond our world, have I done the vision justice by creating the Copula? The traversing between worlds, the implantation into our mortal bodies, the conversion of our galaxy and another? Was all of it meant to occur, expected, anticipated? Is that why our bloodline carries these visions, because we are the keepers of our world?

  The essence
she surrenders transcends to meet the ascending blue iridescent glow emanating from the small hatch above.

  Could the blue, iridescent glow be the three stars that Jesca has seen? The three stars that make up Orion’s belt. Another piece of this monstrous puzzle is trying to reveal itself through her. It has been loosely theorized that the Orion constellation could be a gateway to another time, another place. With the reality we have beset now in our world, our universe, I don’t doubt that there is a connection and it is no longer theory. There is a black hole within the Orion constellation just as there is one within the Andromeda constellation. The black hole within Andromeda is a dark and illusive universe. One that will starve, then steal the soul of every living thing. Having been beyond its veil, I know this. I can’t help but question, Will the black hole within Orion be a luminous and absolute universe? One that is the complete opposite of Andromeda and will bestow salvation for our souls and humanity?

  It must. The only question is what must Jesca do in order to usher in salvation.

  With my eyes still closed as I think, a warm hand rests on my shoulder in the here and now startling me.

  I retract my hand from Sebastian’s shoulder quickly. From his shaken reaction and frightened eyes, I can see I have panicked him. “It’s just me Sebastian.”

  As he gathers his senses, he shifts in his seat to sit upright then pinches the bridge of his nose. His voice is gruff and thick as he speaks, “It’s alright. I was just...thinking.”

  I lean my head back on the headrest and knowingly whisper, “Orion’s Belt and Jesca.”

  I feel Sebastian look at me out of the corner of his eye curiously.

  “The telepathy, it is starting to surface. Just little glimpses of thoughts here and there, but it is spotty.”

  Sebastian nods, “Mine too.”

  I collect glimpses of what Sebastian was trying to decipher. The words that keep rising to the surface of my mind are simple, but their painful impact is complex. I train my eyes on him. “The legacy says she is the one.”

  Not wanting to say or Believe them, the words feel foreign to me. I notice Sebastian release the hand rest and tighten it into a fist.

  “The legacy says a lot of things. Things that we haven’t deciphered.”

  Sebastian opens his eyes and looks at me. “I keep playing my visions over and over in my head, hoping that it is me that must surrender myself to save our world. It should be me.”

  Sebastian looks beyond me and at Jesca sitting across the small aisle. He whispers, “She has seen an extension of what I have in her visions. Yes, she is part of it because of her blood, her lineage, but she should not have to bear this burden.”

  I feel a knot rise in my throat as Sebastian says everything I have been justifying to myself for the past two hours. I whisper past the knot, “She shouldn’t, but she does. I had a premonition in the cabin before Japan. When you sent us to get Xander.”

  Sebastian looks from Jes to me and waits for me to explain myself.

  “We were readying the house for training and I was going to get the basement prepped. Jesca was standing in the kitchen and for one split second, I looked at her and saw a flash of something.” I close my eyes to pull the image to the front of my mind. “She is in a small room made of dirt and rock. It is underground I think. In the center is a blazing fire.”

  I shake my head as the image of Jesca’s suffering tortures me. I continue, “She is kneeling before the blazing fire, tears streaking her face and eyes closed. Then, she releases something within her, it emits from her like a flare and rises above her body.”

  Sebastian interrupts with a shaky whisper, “into an air shaft.”

  I open my eyes and look at him, curious of how he knows. “Have you seen it in my mind?”

  Sebastian shakes his head slowly, “No. In my own, my vision, but it was not Jesca. It was a young woman, a princess. Ezra, my vision has not shifted. I have not seen Jesca. Maybe you are seeing her because it is what you fear for her.”

  I turn my head to look at Jes. Her head is leaning against the seat and the window. She was asleep, I could sense it. I place my elbow on the armrest and lay my hand over my mouth. Under my breathe I say, “Yes, I fear for her. She is my daughter.”

  She looks so peaceful, her mouth is parted as she breathes steadily. I try to slip into her head, see if for once she is not having a vision and actually experiencing true rest.

  Sebastian says, “I should have told you about the legacy sooner.”

  “I understand why you didn’t. Protection. The less we knew the safer we were.”

  Sebastian nods, folds his hands in his lap, and looks in Jesca’s direction again. “How did she react when you told her?”

  “She didn’t react. She kept everything she was feeling inside. That is her way.”

  Sebastian, “Sounds like a family trait.”

  He was right, both Ana and I were like that.

  Ana.

  On a whim, I try to open my mind to let her in telepathically.

  Nothing.

  I try not to appear deflated as I ask Sebastian, “The abilities, will they return to their full strength?”

  Sebastian nods, “We are beginning to acclimate and adapt to the evolved environment. Monica said it took her a couple of days to adapt with her modified Copula.”

  “You know, the Copula has saved our lives Sebastian. If you had not gotten that vision as a child and obsessed over it, we would not be alive.”

  Sebastian’s smile is weak. “Yes, but if I had not obsessed over it, we may not be in the predicament we are currently in.”

  “Maybe, maybe not.”

  Sebastian tightens his lips and focuses on the seat in front of him, silence falls between us for a moment before Sebastian ends it. “I haven’t felt her presence since we were beyond the veil.”

  I look down at my hands, folded in my lap. He had read me, knew I was trying to reach Ana.

  Sebastian continues, “No matter time or space, the connection will never break Ezra.”

  I Believe that. I have faith that once the essence of a human being has brushed with another’s, nothing can break that unique connection. My only worry is that Ana’s soul did not make it from the consuming realm beyond the veil, beyond Andromeda. Losing her physically was one thing. Her losing her soul...I can’t think about that right now. I need to be here for the others. “I noticed we are not flying into the states via Seattle. That would have been the shortest route from Japan.”

  Sebastian, “Seattle would have us on the wrong coast. More land to cover to get to Georgia. We needed to be on the east coast. Monica said the pilot can’t get us into JFK. There is a curfew, so we are landing on the outskirts of New York.”

  “Curfew?”

  Sebastian eyes me. “Because of the attacks. No landing or take off after dark. Monica said that is when they are most active.”

  “They” were the things, the occupiers, the Dwellers, that had come from beyond the veil within the past year we had been gone. While we were beyond the veil fighting to keep our souls from theseDwellers, they were seeping into our world, slowly stripping the souls from our fellow man. I witnessed a taking in the makeshift viewing room in Japan along with Jesca. I remember the crowd running toward the amateur videographer, then the grotesque, charcoal figure leapt into view, clasping a runner, and lifting off like a vulture scooping up its prey.

  Sebastian’s voice cuts into my recollection. “We have connections at Miller Army Air Field.”

  It would be night when we land. We could be touching down on a grand-scale wasps nest of these Dwellers. “Shelter?”

  “Yes, twelve minutes out from the field, Fort Wadsworth. Food, supplies, weapons, and man-power,” answers Sebastian.

  “This man-power, they have obviously been implanted.”

  Sebastian nodded. “Military and civilians among the group. Many bases have become make-shift facilities for shelter, supplies, medical needs, and scheduled inoculations.”
r />   Monica told us about the inoculation schedule. Right now, each of us is on a maintenance schedule to hold steady the levels necessary for our body to function in the current climate. We may not ever have to use it if our bodies adapt to the current element levels.

  However, if there is another climate shift, we will have to go through full infusion based on how dramatic the elements have been affected within our bodies.

  Sebastian, “Human kind is a fighting species. This particular group formed shortly after Gabriel Griffin passed and the ‘occupiers’ began attacking.”

  I have always known this to be true; human kind is a fighting species. Now that human kind has evolved, adapted, and survived the shift, they have become more resilient. “Harder to attack those that are implanted.”

  Sebastian nods.

  After Gabriel Griffin’s death, the Sondian strong hold and their vows that they had all of the answers to what was happening to our world and how to save it dissipated and our fellowship, those that had not been imprisoned or murdered, made their way through the chains of command to render aid. After the first symptoms of the climatic shift, all the lives that were snuffed out, the leaders could no longer deny the help our fellowship was offering them. Monica told us that a mass production of the Copula and implantation schedules began immediately. Headway was being made when the second wave of element shift rained down on our world. The implanted began to fail and we were burning the candle at both ends trying to first save those that were not implanted and then those that were implanted with element infused inoculations. How did those that were not implanted survive the first wave? Underground. They took shelter in caves and storm shelters. As the numbers of the implanted and adapted grew, the man-power to go out to search and rescue those that were not implanted began.