The Elemental

  The Elemental

  Sara Galadari

  Copyright © 2021 Sara Galadari

  Cover Design: Kristen Kohashi

  Editor: Amal Omar

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 9798544471868

  For Adnan

  In the limitlessness of space and the vastness of time, I am forever elated to explore it with you

  CONTENTS

  1

  Prologue

  1

  3

  The Unexpected Visitor

  10

  3

  Revelations

  22

  4

  The Guardian Headquarters

  40

  5

  Time Theory

  71

  6

  Professor Neptune

  93

  7

  Shadows of Time

  112

  8

  Family Ties

  160

  9

  Victims of War

  176

  10

  The Historian

  201

  11

  Dinner

  225

  12

  The Ancient Princess

  244

  13

  The Elemental

  280

  14

  The Beginning

  294

  Too often we wish for the power to alter the past and change our present

  Rarely do we realize the power we have to alter the present and change our future

  Sara Galadari

  PROLOGUE

  “They’re here.” Her voice trembled, drowned out by another deafening bang. She darted across the room, hastily stuffing her things, scattered across the table, into a small leather satchel.

  Another loud bang crashed. She heard the door rattle on its hinges and stifled a gasp, pressing a closed fist to her mouth. She couldn’t afford to panic now. She knew what she was getting herself into.

  And she was ready.

  She steadied herself, taking in a deep breath before flying into action, finishing packing her belongings and securing her satchel’s clasp. She hugged her cloak tighter around her, taking care to tread lightly as she approached the small crib by her bed.

  The outline of a small lump huddled beneath a woolen blanket was just barely noticeable in the flickering candlelight. She placed a hand on the blanket, gently shaking the small lump.

  “Mm?” a small voice murmured from the blankets.

  “Shh,” the woman breathed softly, rubbing the small child’s back.

  “Mama?” the child whispered, unaware of the terror lacing her parent’s breaths. She peeked her head out of her blanket and reached a small hand out, sleepily holding her mother’s cheek. “Mama, morning now?” she muttered, her voice thick with sleep.

  The woman leaned into her little child’s palm, cupped ever so gently on her face. Her hand was still warm from her disrupted slumber.

  The little girl’s obliviousness to her mother’s panic soothed her some. She leaned in and wrapped her arms around her tiny girl, squeezing her tight.

  For a moment, all was well.

  The woman squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want this moment to end.

  She breathed, mustering the strength to let go of her little girl, and picked up a small cloak draped across the railing of her crib. She pulled back the blanket wrapped around the child and replaced it with the dark, silky blue cloak, fastening the clasp with a quiet snap.

  “Helia, we’re going to have to keep very quiet, okay?” she whispered, looking into her eyes, making sure she understood.

  “Why, Mama?”

  “The bad men.” She could feel her heart split in two as she saw her daughter’s face slowly twist with fear at her words.

  “Bad men,” the child repeated solemnly. She understood. The woman nodded.

  “Come on, we have to go,” she said, scooping her up in her arms. Making sure her satchel was in place, she pulled Helia’s hood over her head before pulling up her own.

  Helia clung to her mother, bouncing uncomfortably in her arms as she quietly hurried out of the room. The small torches mounted on either side of the hallway were unlit, leaving the two to continue in darkness. Soft moonlight trickled down a large crack in the wall, providing just enough light for the two to make their way out of the cottage.

  If she could just make it to the castle’s Grand Library…

  She paused as she reached a large wooden door. This was going to be the risky part. This door separated them from the safety of her quarters and the open sky above the courtyard.

  She would need to make it across the courtyard, up the staircase to the second level of the castle, through the rose garden and past the set of the heavy iron doors, continue down the hallway, and finally…

  A loud bang interrupted the silent revision of her plan. She swiveled her head around, eyes slightly bulging out in her panic. The sound was close.

  It didn’t matter. She didn’t have time to panic. She needed to make it. Everything was depending on this.

  “Mama?” a small voice squeaked from beneath the hooded cloak in her arms.

  “Shh, my love. It’s okay,” the woman whispered against the top of the toddler’s head.

  She took in a deep breath, slowly pushing the heavy wooden door ajar. Cool air softly blew through, sending a small shiver down her spine.

  All seemed quiet.

  She knew it wouldn’t stay that way for long.

  The once-bustling castle grounds were now eerily silent. Where guards normally stood and chattered away lay piles of rubble and shattered stone. The castle’s once-pristine walls now stood battered; large stones were knocked out in a crumbly, decrepit mess, while other sections of the walls were completely obliterated.

  She knew that coming back to the castle was dangerous.

  She knew the risks she was taking by going back to the cottage within the castle grounds.

  But it was their only chance left.

  She couldn’t lose their only chance.

  The woman pushed the door open further, slipping silently across the courtyard. She breathed a sigh of relief as she realized that they were still alone.

  Shallow breaths were drowned out by hastened footsteps over the cobbled pathway along the courtyard. The woman winced, feeling her thin shoes curl over a particularly jagged cobblestone and poking the sole of her foot. She stifled a small grunt of pain as she hurried up the steep steps, careful not to draw any further attention to herself. She could barely see. The night sky was suffocated in the thick, black smoke that poured out from the city beyond the castle grounds. Her calves screamed as she pushed herself higher and higher up the stairs, desperate to escape, the weight of Helia in her arms growing heavier by the second.

  As she reached the top of the stairs, she turned her head to peer below. Her elbow struck against a loose stone from the crumbling wall beside her. She gasped loudly, watching the stone clatter against the cobbled steps, the sound thundering deafeningly amidst the silence she so desperately wanted to keep.

  “Over there!” A gruff voice exclaimed. The sound of feet shuffling against the rugged floor sounded closer than ever.

  Time was up.

  The woman didn’t have time to check how close the man was, or how many more there were. Ignoring Helia’s frightened wails, she darted across the grounds and dove into the rose garden’s overgrown, thorny, tangled midst, the prickly bushes brushing painfully against her body as she ran as fast as could, hoping that the thorny thicket would slow down her pursuers. She could feel her sleeves being torn to shreds as the thorns poked and scratched at her, and little rivulets of blood dripped down her arms. She winced as she felt a spiny bra
nch scratch across her face.

  “Mama,” Helia yelled as a particularly sharp point poked at her back. “It hurts,” she cried pathetically.

  “I know, my love. Shh, we’re almost there,” she murmured against Helia’s head, adjusting her arms to shield the tiny girl from the thorns and pulling the girl’s cloak taut against her body, trying to protect her. Her muscles screamed with fatigue as they continued through the thicket, and she could feel herself beginning to slow down.

  They were so close.

  She could see the heavy iron doors ahead of her. Just a few more paces…

  “Don’t let them get away,” boomed a deep voice behind them. “Set it all on fire. They’ve got nowhere left to run.”

  The woman pushed her way through the last of the bristly shrubberies and ran towards the entrance, throwing her body at the heavy metal doors and bursting through.

  The Grand Library stood as a shadow of its former self, with priceless old tomes strewn about, piles of books ripped apart and drenched in water or burned to a crisp, and bookshelves blasted into splintering messes. The ground was smeared with remaining soot from singed pages, obscuring the intricate etchings carved into the ancient marble floors.

  The woman ran towards the center of the library and dropped to her knees, setting down Helia, who was now openly wailing in terror. Her heart broke all over again at the sight of her baby crying with such fright, and she knew she couldn’t do any more to protect her.

  “Helia, listen to me,” she said, trying to steady her trembling voice. “You have to be brave, like we talked about. Can you do that? Can you be brave for Mama?” she uttered softly, wiping the tears off of Helia’s face with both palms. She held back tears as she saw her own blood, still wet on her hands, streak against her daughter’s cheeks.

  Helia shook her head vehemently. “No, Mama. I don’t wanna be brave,” she sniffed, wiping her nose with her sleeve. “I wanna go ho-oo-oome,” she wailed in between tears, crying hard. The woman felt her own tears flowing freely down her face.

  “I know, love,” she said. “You’re going home now. Everything will be okay, I promise. Okay?”

  Helia nodded, still crying.

  Wiping her tears, the woman pulled a long chain from around her neck and fastened it around Helia, the heavy stone pendant hanging down to her navel. The woman picked up the pendant and began fiddling with it, murmuring under her breath as she struggled to concentrate.

  The pendant began to faintly glow blue from in between her fingers as she twisted it, a faint clicking sound emitting from her ministrations.

  “Listen here,” she whispered, still carefully twisting the pendant around itself, the blue glow growing brighter and brighter. “You see Mama’s bag?”

  Helia nodded her head, still sniffling.

  “Take Mama’s bag—that’s right, good girl. Don’t you let go of the bag, all right? Whatever you do, don’t let go of Mama’s bag. Keep it safe with you.”

  “Okay, Mama,” said Helia, clutching the satchel tightly. She closed her eyes as her mother pulled her hood over her head, pressing her lips to her forehead in a strong kiss.

  BANG.

  They were out of time.

  The woman whirled around, throwing herself in front of Helia, shielding her from sight. She put both arms down, feeling the hilt of her daggers slide effortlessly into her hands from their concealed straps beneath her sleeves, facing her assailants. There were four young men standing at the foot of the Grand Library, its iron doors blown clean off its hinges and lay strewn on either side of the library’s entrance. She wrapped her hands firmly around her weapons, her eyes darting from one opponent to the next.

  One of the men looked down at her and sneered, his teeth glistening in the night. His eyes bulged in excitement, face twisting into a sinister smile at the thrill of the chase.

  “Hand over the Elemental,” one of the men commanded. His harsh voice boomed in Helia’s ears, and she instinctively retreated behind her mother.

  She knew that voice. She would never forget that voice.

  “Mama,” Helia squeaked in terror, clutching at her mother’s cloak. She felt her heart pounding in her chest.

  The pendant around Helia’s neck flashed as bright as the moonlight pouring through the shattered windows of the library. Helia’s mother grinned.

  It worked. Her plan was complete.

  There was no more running away.

  “The Elemental,” the man barked again.

  “Over your dead body,” she uttered, the sudden surge of relief at her plan succeeding fueling her with vigor. She narrowed her eyes and focused hard, drawing energy from the sheer adrenaline flowing through her veins. She could feel a rush of power burst through her.

  She smiled.

  Everything was clear now.

  She drew her arm back, taking careful aim, and hurled a dagger towards the men. One of the men that was flanking to her right screamed and twisted in agony as the dagger’s blade sank into his cheek.

  She smirked as she hit her target.

  He shrieked in pain, grasping at his face.

  Before the man could retaliate, she flung another dagger towards the other two men, glaring as her attacks hit her targets.

  She whirled around, eyeing the fourth man. She was out of weapons. She darted towards one of the injured assailants, her hand outstretched to yank her dagger back from its mark.

  At the same time, her final opponent lurched forward, grabbing the woman roughly by the arm and wrenching her hard towards him, drawing his hand for his own weapon. The woman tried in vain to wrestle his arm away from his weapon.

  “Mama!” Helia cried, falling to the ground, unable to tear her eyes away from the man holding her mother. The blue glow around Helia’s neck grew brighter and brighter, growing hotter by the second.

  The woman snapped her head in the direction of her child’s voice. “Everything’s going to be okay,” the woman cried. “Go!”

  The last thing Helia could see before the world whooshed and vanished around her was her mother being pushed to the ground and the man standing above her, his sword drawn high above her head. She felt warm liquid spray across her face as the blade slashed through her mother’s torso. She shrieked in horror, wiping the liquid from her face instinctively, and looked down at her hand to find it covered in thick blood.

  AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR

  “Mama! Mama!” Helia wailed in fright as her surroundings dissolved into a kaleidoscope of shapes and colors. Slowly, her world stopped spinning, and she found herself underneath a brilliantly lit chandelier, its light bouncing off of the pristine marble floors and illuminating the room with an invitingly warm and comfortable air. “Mama! Mamaaaa!” Helia continued to cry in a panic.

  “What the—” a deep voice yelled from behind her. Helia whirled around, tears streaming down her face as she stared up at a very startled man. He was sitting at a table nearby, a small lamp burning beside a very large stack of books towering over him. A small book lay open in front of him with his fervent scribbles scrawled into its pages, his pen in his mouth as he paused for inspiration on his next words—which were now long gone with the sudden apparition before him. He knocked over his book and ink pot in his surprise, sending them flying across the floor loudly and landing close to the toddler.

  “Mama! Mama!” Helia chanted, squeezing her eyes shut and wishing hard that her Mama would appear in front of her and take her away.

  “Who-wha-how?” the man stammered, adjusting his glasses as he rushed to his feet and drew nearer to the wailing toddler.

  Helia warily stepped back, locking her eyes on the strange man through the blur of tears. “Mama,” she cried pathetically.

  “Uh. Um. Er—” the man spluttered, completely flabbergasted at the little girl in front of him. Why, she seemed to appear as if out of thin air!

  “What is that sound?” hissed a young woman. “Noiro, the number one rule in a library is that you should remain quiet.” She stompe
d her way towards him and stopped in her path as she took in the scene in front of her: a very stunned man stood in front of a screaming toddler shrouded in a hooded cloak that looked a little too big for her, the man faltering stupidly as he tried to find words to calm the little girl down. He looked up at the young woman.

  “She just popped out of nowhere!” he stammered, gesturing wildly at the little girl.

  “What?”

  “She just…”—he pointed at the toddler—“appeared!”

  “Mamaaa…” the toddler wailed, growing more agitated by the flummoxed man.

  Noiro began patting his hands down his coat, frantically searching for something hidden in one of his pockets that might help quiet the child. He paused above his breast pocket and shoved his hand to retrieve the item, hastily presenting it to the toddler.

  Helia, mid-wail, glanced at the object in front of her: a round, glistening piece of sugar-coated candy enclosed in a brightly colored wrapper. She tearfully eyed the candy, then slowly moved to stare at the man holding the wrapper, who seemed to breathe a giant sigh of relief at the momentary silence. “Here, take this. It’s for you,” he said, kneeling down to the toddler’s level.

  His words had the opposite effect he hoped for, and the toddler’s eyes began to well up with more tears.

  “M-Mama said ‘m not supposed to have candy before dinner,” Helia sniffed uncertainly, folding her arms and turning her head away from the man, her face still hidden amidst her cloak’s hood. She began to cry louder.

  Noiro sighed again, this time in defeat.

  “You’re right,” chimed in the woman, still standing in her place. She walked over to the toddler, her boots smartly clipping against the marble floors. “Your Mama’s smart, kid,” she said, also kneeling down to Helia. “My name’s Miela. Can you tell me your name?”