Painting It Red (The Oracle Series - Book One)

Chapter 4: The Sands of Time

-Kent-

After what felt like hours of accusations and questions that I couldn't answer, she finally gave up and settled in for a nap. Nora is persistent, I'll give her that, but she should take my lead and enjoy the last few hours of ignorance she has left. Once this jet lands and we walk through the doors at Langley, she will have nothing but pain to look forward to.

She looks so peaceful, so harmless. The way her shocking red hair fans out across her shoulders as she sleeps is like magic in itself. Her vibrant green eyes with that telltale fleck of gold are so entrancing, that it is actually a relief they are closed. I can't let my attraction to her grow any stronger without risking the mission, not to mention countless lives. How could a creature so beautiful be so deadly?

When I was handed this mission three months ago, I was told to thoroughly vet the asset before any level of engagement. We were armed with assumed knowledge of her abilities and destiny, but we could only set so much stock in the prophesy. There is protocol to be followed after all, and as far as we know, the mysterious Oracle hasn't been seen or heard from in the last century. This being the case, we had to be one hundred percent certain she was the one, before extracting her from her current life.

That, and for all we knew, she could have been dangerous.

Pablo was assigned to her before I was--sent to retrieve samples of her work for analyses and watch over Eleonora until we knew for sure. He was looking for an out, a way to leave the agency in an early retirement, and this was his best option. He has always been quite the humanitarian, and we were able to fund his business and his charitable endeavors so long as he kept our asset safe. It was also a fantastic cover, that happened to fit perfectly into her world. We were able to insert him into her life with unexpected ease.

The agreement was that he could retire post-extraction, but I saw the way he looked at her. He truly cares for the girl, and I know he will want to stick around to ensure her continued safety. Even after everything he's been through.

We have been keeping an eye on all of her art through her agent, Yuki. No, she's not CIA, and she certainly has no clue that we are.  She doesn't fit the profile, so we wouldn't even consider recruiting her, but she is so proactive with Nora's public relations efforts that a simple social media search allowed us access to show locations for every gallery showing, and updates on every private commission. After pulling the information, we have been secretly filtering it so that no malicious entities with knowledge of the work's true meaning could discover it. All this time, Nora has been blissfully unaware of our reconnaissance and background efforts.

Daring to glance over at her sleeping form, I am again reminded how dangerous her life is about to get. Even if I was allowed to intervene sooner, or tell her all that I know, it would be out of the question. We weren't sure if anyone else was monitoring her, and sharing our intel in the open would risk the information reaching the wrong ears.

The location of the other two from the prophesy remains a mystery--the text was so vague that it's hard to know if they are even human. When we debrief her, we will hopefully learn how much she knows, and how developed her abilities are. My intuition tells me she is relatively unaware, because if she weren't, she probably wouldn't put such sensitive information as her painted visions out into the world so casually.

Then again, she showed genuine fear when I hinted at her abilities in the coffee shop. I got a kick out of watching her squirm, but I really shouldn't have said anything. If she'd been spooked, my job would've gotten ten times harder. I was too confident that her obvious attraction to me would keep her around.

She doesn't trust me, that much is clear, and I don't blame her. I wouldn't trust me under the circumstances either. Luckily for both of us, trust isn't necessary in the current equation. Not only is emotional distance a blessing in this line of work in general, but it is imperative in this case. If she had granted me her trust it would only be that much harder to stay away.

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-Nora-

A swirling vortex of purple sands twists and turns violently around my figure, as I sit paralyzed in a huddled mass at what may or may not be its center. I am trapped in a deep purple clouded haze that has no discernible beginning, middle, or end. Much like time itself.

Flashes of images, moments in time, seem to appear and disappear suddenly at rapid manic speeds, visible through small cracks and window-like gaps in the endless wall of moving sands. Subtly at first, soft voices call to me, each desperately pleading for my attention, increasing the vigor of their efforts continually as time goes on.

Or does time even go on?

It seems as though I am existing in an illusive point between the cracks of time itself. I don't know how I know this, but it's as though some dormant part of me can sense it. Everything starts to blend together as the sensations overwhelm my senses, pushing my stimulus threshold to its maximum capacity, and finally flooding my system as it exceeds what my mind can handle. I try to stay calm and control the situation, but I just can't fight my rising panic. Just as I feel I am on the verge of exploding, the movements start to ever-so-slightly reign themselves in.

Suddenly, a little boy, with hair as white as snow and eyes the color of the purple vortex itself, appears out of thin air. He hovers for a moment before gracefully slipping down to my level, landing effortlessly. An instant calm comes over the vortex, and suddenly its movement slows to an elegant tempo, nipping softly at our feet as if with affection.

I am in awe of the young boy before he so much as opens his mouth, but when he speaks, it's as if all the world's knowledge lies at his dainty little feet. He holds immeasurable power, and that same dormant part of me that recognized my location can sense this within him. It acknowledges him, and even seems to feel affection for him. His childlike appearance makes this all the more daunting. Everything about him defies the laws of nature.

"Eleonora, you do not know me, but I have known you for all of time. My child, you are about to learn the nature of your destiny on this earth, and you must embrace it. Lives are at stake, and the future of your sisters depends on it."

I have so many questions, and I wish I could ask every last one, but as they start to form on my lips something in my gut tells me to refrain, and to simply listen.

"The sands are running wild, and you must control them. They crave your direction, but they will fight back if you do not grasp the reigns soon. You have just seen an ounce of their power," he gestures to the now softly flowing vortex around us, "I will not always be here to reign them in. If you do not cultivate the sands of time, others will take advantage. Explore your gifts, trust in your power, fulfill my prophesy."

As he concludes his message, I can feel the dream slowly slipping from my grasp. "Wait! Please!" I croak out desperately, longing for answers. "What sisters? Where are they? Please!" But it was too late.

The boy is gone, the sands are fading to nothingness, and I feel the sensation of someone softly shaking me awake as I grudgingly accept the pull to consciousness.

    Kent's voice floats to my ears, as with a hint of--is that regret? maybe guilt?--he softly says "We're here. We've landed."

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Sorry this one's a little shorter! The next one will be longer.

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