Split, A.M. Bryker [beautiful books to read TXT] 📗

Seven years ago

You can't catch me!" A young girl squealed. "I'm too fast for you."

     She giggled and shied away from her little sister. Being the older girl out of the two, she was able to outrun her sister with her longer, stronger legs. She hid behind trees and bushes while her sister would try to find her. When she was eventually found, she would run away laughing.

     Nearby, a man and woman sat in the shade of a large oak tree, enjoying the sound of their daughters’ laughter as they played.

     "Such beautiful girls," the father remarked, sighing.

     The mother agreed. "And powerful," she added thoughtfully. The father turned toward her and lifted an eyebrow. "What? You and I both know that it's true."

     The father sighed again. "I know. But I cannot help but wonder how these amazing girls came upon such dangerous power. Things like that don't just happen. None of our family has had anything to do with magic for centuries. You and I were both there when magical disaster struck the kingdom two centuries ago. Who knows what these girls are capable of? What if—"

     "I know what you're saying, my dear," the mother interrupted. "But that does not mean much, does it? They have the power and we can do nothing except attempt to tame it."

     The father looked at her sharply. "You aren't thinking what I think you're thinking, are you?"

     The mother frowned and replied thoughtfully, "Actually, yes, I think I'm thinking what you think I'm thinking."

     "You don't believe we should take them to him, do you?" the father asked warily.

     "Yes, that is exactly what I'm thinking," the mother said cheerfully. "I don't see any reason why not. He's trustworthy; he has acquired enough knowledge of the art of magic to train others how to use it. I believe he would be extremely well-suited for the task concerning their control over the power they possess."

     The two girls ran out of sight and, therefore, out of mind. The parents continued talking.

     "But don't you consider him the slightest bit odd?" the father protested.

     The mother glared at him fiercely and asked boldly, "Do you have any other suggestions? If you do, rest assured that I will open up my mind to them."

     He opened his mouth to speak, but reconsidered once he realized that she was right—as usual. After a few minutes he commented, "I don't think anyone else should be privy to this information. Do you agree?"

     She nodded. "If this knowledge fell into the wrong hands it could be exceedingly dangerous. It shall be kept a secret between the three of us."

     Silence pervaded the air as the couple ceased speaking. The laughter of the two girls was the only sound, aside from the rustle of the leaves in the breeze and the chirping of the birds above.

     The father watched his wife as she tucked a strand of shining black hair behind a pointed ear. A butterfly landed on her hand and she smiled, studying it until it flew away.

     "Darling, I was just thinking…" He began, but she held up her hand for silence. She glanced at him with a concerned expression on her face.

     "What is it?" He whispered. The concern on her face quickly contorted into fear.

     "Where are the girls and their laughter?" She asked.

     His eyes widened and he immediately sprang to his feet. Without a word, he bolted in the direction the girls had headed before disappearing into the trees. He searched frantically and called their names several times.

     Just when he began to think he would never find them, he heard a tiny whimper from somewhere off to his right. Turning, he spotted two small shapes huddled in the shadows of bushes and miniature trees.

     "Girls?" He called hopefully.

     In response, the girls cried, "Father!"

     Relieved, he took a step toward them, but stopped when the girls suddenly screamed and pointed at something behind him. He turned in time to see a man hurtling toward him, a sword held high above his head.

     He surveyed the man quickly and drew his own sword. He noted the man's broad shoulders and his towering height. His hair was dark and hung in oily strands around his black eyes. His attire was nothing unusual—common villager clothes. It was his eyes that truly alerted the father; they were consumed with hatred and malice. A man lusting to shed the blood of another is always dangerous.

     The two swords clashed together and sparks flew. The attacker's weight and the force of his blow threw off the balance of the father, sending him crashing to the ground. It was all he could do to prevent the man from removing his head from his shoulders.

     Much to his horror, the father heard and then spotted another man running toward them. He grappled with the man on top of him, attempting to shove off his assailant, but to no avail. The second man was fast approaching and the father was still on the ground. Then he heard one of his daughters begin to cry.

     Rage burned within him. Maneuvering his legs until they were against his attacker's stomach, the father thrust them forward, throwing the big man off of him and into the other man, who had just barely reached the site.

     Scrambling to his feet, the father immediately headed for his daughters. He hadn't taken more than one step before his ankle was seized.

     As he fell, the father shouted, "Run, girls!"

    The hard ground rushed to meet him, and oxygen was forced from his lungs. As he gasped for breath, he was relieved to see that the girls had taken heed to his command and were now running toward the forest. Unfortunately, his relief was replaced with dismay when he spied yet another man sprinting toward the girls. Once the father recognized who the man was, he was filled with anger.

     He kicked the man who had grasped his ankle in the face, causing him to release the father to cover his bleeding mouth. The father instantly leapt to his feet and sped toward the foliage, in the direction his daughters had gone. After a few minutes, he entered a clearing, whereupon he saw the despicable man grabbing one of the girls.

     His sword drawn, the father advanced toward the opposing man and demanded, "What are you doing?"

     The man, a striking individual who looked to be in his late twenties but was quite older than that, smiled and replied, "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm taking your daughters."

     The father glanced around and was reminded of the fact that his younger daughter was not present. "It seems you have only obtained one," he commented, drawing nearer to the man.

     The latter also looked around the clearing and a look of disdain was portrayed on his handsome features. "Yes, it seems she has outwitted me, for now. But losing one is better than losing them both, don't you agree?" His grey eyes shone with triumph.

     Scowling, the father hissed, "And what are you planning on doing with her?"

     The other man appeared to think about it for a moment, and then replied, "I'm not going to tell you that, my dear cousin." The father glared at him, wondering how he could possibly use the word "cousin" so lightly after all of the devastation he had inflicted on the kingdom in the past. "Things like that are supposed to be a surprise."

     "Are you quite certain that this ten-year-old girl will be able to handle whatever you're planning?" the father asked, hoping that his voice sounded as calm as he wished it to be.

     "Of course I am," his cousin scoffed, rolling his eyes. The girl twisted in his arms, trying to escape her captor, but to no avail. She whimpered.

     The man began walking slowly backward, toward a platform that was barely noticeable with all the dirt and moss covering it. The father recognized it immediately.

     "Get away from that platform!" He shouted, horrified. "Do you have any idea what it is and what it can do?"

     At that his cousin laughed. "Of course I do; I'm not stupid. This is a Jintis—a rare find. It has unimaginable power that I intend to captivate, using your precious daughter in whatever way I need to for me to achieve that goal." He paused, then said with a smile, "Surprise."

     He took another step back, and the father rushed forward, but it was too late. His cousin planted his feet on the Jintis. Suddenly, there was a burst of light and the father had to shield his eyes from the glare.

     Once it died down, he was able to see that his daughter stood dazed and a little pale on the platform in the middle of the clearing. His cousin had disappeared. Filled with immense relief, the father smiled and took a step forward, but the young girl scowled.

     "If you take another step toward me, I swear I will rip out your throat without a second thought," she hissed menacingly. Hatred and anger flared in her eyes, making the father pause. Was it his imagination or were her eyes lighter than before?

     He stood there, confused. A few seconds later, his daughter turned around and fled deeper into the forest. He fell to his knees and let out a cry of anguish. He felt a small hand touch his shoulder. Turning, he found himself facing his younger daughter, her eyes filled with tears. He took her into his arms, attempting to comfort her.

     After a few minutes, the father stood and said, "Come, my beloved daughter. We must inform your mother what has transpired."

     The little girl nodded sadly. Then she asked, "Do you think she'll come back?"

     "I believe she will," he replied with more confidence than he felt. "Someday."

     With that, he and his daughter walked slowly back to the oak tree where the mother stood, anxiously waiting for their return. When she saw that there was only one girl with the father, she placed a hand to her mouth and tears began rolling down her cheeks.

     The three of them wrapped their arms around each other and the only thing that filled the air then was sorrow.

 Jadelyn

(Anaheim, California)

My eyes shoot open and I sit up in bed. I lift a hand to my right cheek and a stupid grin spreads across my face. My euphoria lasts only a few seconds, however, because I see something glowing a faint green. I lift my hands up to eyelevel and sigh. They are glowing.

     For a moment I wish that I'm not "gifted" with the things I can do. I wish I could be like any other girl who actually has to work hard to get at least a B+ in their report card. I wish that I could remember the rest of my childhood. I wish—just then I hear the doorbell ring from downstairs. I glance at