The Young Volcanoes of Tenemere [SAMPLE]

Prologue

In hindsight, I should have known she'd be a problem.

I began watching her at the tail end of her second life, back when she was human. Back when she was she. I fostered quite a soft spot for her in the early days, not that she particularly interested me. She wasn't powerful, gifted, or special. Still isn't. But she was one of the few I could connect with then, which made her betrayal that much more infuriating.

That said, the child did come to my attention by notable means.

I was watching another female at the time. Not human, this one – an eshtie. Forty-six, third-lifer, Rukovati, and one of the few still operating two decades after the Refuge War. Her name was Juniper. Hilarious old broad; she had the face of an aging sow and the temperament to match, but I enjoyed her. She worked as a Life Retrieval Officer at the council office on the small island of Tenemere, and that was where she introduced me to my latest subject of interest.

Julianna Corasce is the name you'll first know her by. Not really anyone you were likely to look twice at; rather, one who believed elegance to be a choice rather than an aspiration. Tall for a female of her kind, she was graced with a typical Tenemerian combination of coral-hue eyes, nightblack hair – which she kept chincropped and wavy – and a skin tone that reflected the sunless climate of her home. The child would refer to herself as an individual and liked to think that a casual and thoughtless attire, trimmed with excessive woodbead bracelets, reflected her unique personality. I have very different names for the kid, 'little shit' being the first to spring to mind.

Julianna was nervous, but so too were all the others who came here, as Juniper so sweetly assured her. The cold and clinical cubicle in which she worked could feel intimidating, so she always did her best to bring her victims a pleasant smile and a cheerful attitude. That was what she called them, by the way: her victims. A harsh word, but for what she did to them there really was no better term.

She smiled toothily at the girl. "Your paperwork's all up to scratch. We'll just go through some routine prep-work before we begin the procedure: a quick examination and consent check, that all right?"

Julianna nodded stiffly.

"Let's take a look at that birth mark, poppet," Juniper said, shamelessly dipping a hand into Julianna's personal space and pulling down her loose shirt. "Hmm, circular mark on the chest, approximately five-millimetre diameter. Gunshot wound, most likely. You're a lucky one." She grinned most eerily. "Bullet straight to the heart. You'll have died nice and quickly, pet."

She withdrew her hand and scribbled some notes on her clipboard, before whipping her chair back round and presenting her victim with a stone from her pocket: a hearty chunk of black onyx, polished and rounded, the size of her own fist.

"You had your memories stored before?" she asked, stroking the stone's cool surface.

Julianna twisted in her chair, her shoulders scrunching as she shook her head.

"Not to worry. In a few moments I'm going to ask you to verbally consent to the procedure. And when you do, I shall be recording that memory. It's just the council's policy of insurance in the unlikely event of malpractice. You understand?"

Julianna's eye twitched. "In case ... something goes wrong?"

"It won't, pet." Juniper reached out to stroke Julianna's hair in a motherly yet completely inappropriate sort of way. "I've been doing this near eighteen years. Now, any questions before we begin?"

"No, I'm all right," said Julianna. "Let's just get it over with."

"Moment of truth then: do you consent to the procedure as has been outlined to you and agree that the council accepts no responsibility for any side effects, after effects or permanent life alterations that may occur during or after the event?"

Julianna closed her eyes. "I do."

With a wink, Juniper extended her hand to Julianna, who took it in her own. "Sit back, petal. This won't hurt a bit."

Now Juniper, for all her qualities, was not the most ethically clean of people. She had a nosiness to her, a natural curiosity she could never quite overcome. There was no malice in her actions, no desire to blackmail or gossip. She just liked knowing about people, and that's why she didn't just take one memory from young Julianna; instead, she perused them all.

With a practised ease, Juniper reached inside herself for her shaktis, the very energy of her soul. It was energy that she, as a Rukovati, could move and manipulate it as she wished. She poured that energy in a downward stream through her arm, her hand, her fingers and into Julianna.

She could feel the girl's energy reverberating against her own, pulsing with life. She directed her shaktis through Julianna's body, telling it what to look for.

There. She could sense the memory, her shaktis was instinctively drawn to it and it latched on. She soaked in it, letting its energy wash over her own, and with her mind's eye she replayed it. And there she was; she could see herself through Julianna's eyes. And she could feel the girl vocalise her consent.

It belonged to her now. The memory was a golden strand of twine and Juniper plucked it as she would a hair from her head. She fed it into her skin, absorbing it into her body, sending it soaring though her veins and into the stone she held to.

And then she stayed for more.

It was like a film reel on fast rewind. Grainy images burst into Juniper's consciousness at breakneck speed, too fast for the mortal eye to properly visualise but not for Juniper's shaktis to comprehend. On autopilot, she watched the teenager getting younger, going to school, going to work, all from Julianna's perspective. She saw herself wave goodbye to three male humans as they were conscripted to the mainland. A raw shame cut through her veins as a female screamed at her. Again. And again. She saw herself clutch her arm and weep, a bent bicycle on the ground beside her. Her heart fluttered at the memory of a kiss with a blushing boy who felt it necessary to engage his tongue. And her head reeled when the scene took her to a toilet cubicle, a cacophony of cruel laughter echoing outside as she beat her fists against the locked door, seething from the humiliation, reeling from the surge of feelings she had siphoned and—

Julianna was screaming. Juniper was back in the assessment room. Something was wrong.

The cubicle door flew open and a flustered receptionist raced inside. "Gods, what happened?"

"I ... I'm not sure," Juniper muttered with a frown.

"You're glowing," Julianna managed to choke out, eyes impossibly wide. "You're ... there's something swirly ... it's misty." She gazed at them both. "Around your heads, the two of you. You're glowing."

Juniper's jaw dropped. "I'll be darned. You're active!"

Yes, Julianna was active, immune to the transgenerational effects of the goblin poison that had blighted the nation many years previously. She was a Taikaan: one capable of perceiving the shaktis energies of all creatures, living or dead, and one of only a handful the island had seen since the Great Poisoning. Juniper was one of the active few, of course. The meddling idiot was reprimanded and demoted for her actions, but not outright fired as her shaktis was too valuable to the council. She suffered from the scandal of it all, turned to drink and became overall less interesting to me. My sights turned to Julianna.

She didn't finish the procedure. One can understand, the child was clearly put off by the trauma of her activation: a side-effect of Juniper's prying rather than the procedure itself; too many intense emotions at once causing a powerful surge. She was still shaking when her mother dragged her down to the courthouse to register as a Taikaan – her quivering hand scribbled a signature that looked nothing like her own, and an elderly eshtie, teeming with envy, shoved an agatestone ring onto her finger and told her to get out of his sight.

So, she did.

And I followed her.

I have never been one for modesty, so you can believe me when I tell you I did not understand the path we'd embarked on. It's hard to say whether I could have predicted the outcome – though the signs were there from the beginning. But I am sure, at the very least, that none of it was my fault.

I'll tell you the story. Maybe you'll see, as I did, where the blame truly lies. Do not condemn me – read me.

I'll tell you, because stories are what I do best. You never know, you might end up remembering.