Curse of Stone

Chapter 8

We packed food, water, and supplies for an outing, but this was no vacation. Slinging a leather satchel over my shoulder, I said to Anara, "Let's go."

The sky glowed from the approaching dawn when we left the cabin, but the suns were well above the horizon at the location we teleported. If Elysium had time zones like Earth, I figured we crossed at least three.

We chose this location because it was not near any town, and hopefully, any interference. But it had more significance to Anara, being the place she first tried to stop the Stone Curse on her own and failed, bringing it upon herself. Today she did not cover her scars with the half-mask and arm sleeve, serving as a stark reminder of the stakes.

I reached over and gripped her hand, lacing fingers together. Taking a deep breath and tightening her lips, she looked over at me. Her wide eye showed reluctance, to be sure, but then she squeezed my hand and squared her shoulders. "This way," she said, facing ahead. "We are not far."

The faint path took us through rocky meadows and tall evergreen tree groves. The pine-scented air was thinner, and it was noticeably cooler here, so I was glad we borrowed the poncho-like cloaks from the cabin. Ferina also exchanged her official decorative robe for a simple green tunic dress and sturdy shoes, something more suitable for the outing. Dresses seemed to be the norm for women's wear on Elysium, in contrast to my mom, who wore faded blue jeans.

Targon darted back and forth, sometimes hopping and sometimes flying, chasing whatever insect we kicked up along the way.

The trail weaved around crumbly mottled boulders, slowly winding up a ridge face. Tall blue-green grass clumps whispered in the breeze while colorful birds warbled. A twitchy-tailed gray squirrel scampered up a nearby tree as we approached, scolding our annoying presence with a rapid series of chirps. This would have been a pleasant morning hike if not for a somber purpose.

Based on Ferina's short, all-gray hair, lined face, and spindly frame, I would guess that she was in her late seventies or early eighties years old. On Earth terms, anyway — who knows how long people live here with magical medical care? The clear crystal talisman pendant that dangled from Ferina's neck cast small sparkles of refracted sunshine with every step.

"I've noticed," I began, breaking the silence, "that the talisman crystals come in many colors. What does that mean?"

"Ah," Anara replied, limping along with her cane. "All witches command the basic abilities of telekinesis and thermokinesis to varied extent. But the crystal colors represent a witch's specialty, and the deeper the color, the more powerful. Mine was, before the Council destroyed it, purple, which signified the powers of chaos — control of space and time."

"Which was why you could create portals and slow time?"

"It is so. Ferina's crystal is clear, which represents psychomancy, manipulation of the mind."

"And my crystal was yellow," Mom chimed in, "for the physical powers of alchemy and transmutation." She dipped her head and her lips turned down. "The Council also destroyed my talisman."

Anara continued the explanation. "Green, like Myra's crystal, represents powers of biomancy and healing, domain over living things. Then, there are other colors: red for enhanced pyrokinesis and cryokinesis; blue for aerokinesis, the powers of air; aqua for hydrokinesis; orange for divination and aura reading; and brown for geokinesis, powers over the lands."

"Oh, yes. I remember well my recent introduction to geokinesis," I said. "So, how do witches get their crystals?"

"The Crystalize Bonding is a sacred moment in every girl's life as her powers develop," Anara answered. "I remember mine well. A girl may search long and far for a special crystal aligned with her aura."