And so begins week two of fifteen minute writing bursts. Today’s piece comes inspired by Our Write Side’s Two Word Tuesday.
Prompt: Prescient/Psychic
~~~
Being a psychic, you’d think my foresight would be better. It’s too much to ask for, I suppose. Then again, no amount of foresight could have prepared me for this. The worst part is, there’s nothing I can do to remedy the situation.
At least, not without bending (or breaking) some rules. And I’ll need to do a lot of bending if I intend to help Saxon.
“You’re sure you want to do this?” Samael gives me a look bordering somewhere between amusement and bewilderment. They don’t understand why I care so much, why I’m still so attached to my living relatives. Then again, I don’t blame them. They’re Death incarnate – the very definition of detachment.
“I don’t think you realize – I don’t have a choice. And even if I did, Saxon might very well fail and then Adwin and the fallen will be my problem to deal with. To be honest, I’d rather contain the situation, instead of letting them get as far as The Gate.” I’m not going to repeat Sarah’s mistake with the Nephilim.
One way or another this will become my problem to deal with. I’m just attempting a preemptive strike.
“Can’t argue with that logic, I suppose.” They shrug before generating their scythe in midair, catching it as it falls. Unlike my scythe, theirs is a matte black, made of shadows. Also unlike mine, their scythe has the ability to cut through the fabric of the realms and transport me back to Earth, if only for brief moments. This is a massive break of the rules and I’m still not sure how I convinced Sam to do it, but here we are. Despite their protests, I can see in their eyes they’re enjoying this. “Ready when you are.”
There’s no preparing myself for coming face to face with Saxon again, so I simply nod my head. With a single swipe, Samael cuts through the air and a rift opens in front of me. Through the opening, I can see Saxon getting ready to meditate in his room at the colony. I wish I could actually speak to him, have a normal conversation with my cousin. Instead, I’m limited to manipulating his psychic ability.
I reach through the opening and step into his room. The effect is almost instant. He doubles over in pain, as the headache I’m causing starts to take hold. My hand on his head, I struggle to push the vision into his mind – everything I’ve seen Adwin do, everything I know about his hideout, his allies. I’m not sure how much of it Saxon will retain, but I hope it’s enough.
He manages to stay in control long enough to pull his phone out – I can’t believe he still carries it around – and start recording. Saxon’s voice fills the room with descriptions of the vision.
“Saxon. Find Adwin and stop him. Before it’s too late. I need your help.” He repeats my words back, over and over. I let him go, and he passes out.
“Time’s up, Lexia.” Behind me, Samael pulls me back.
~~~
And another bit into the Withered Legacy bucket. Here’s to keeping these going.
As always, think happy thoughts!
FictionTrials 