“Some of my sights,” she began, her voice hesitant as my back straightened, “have been changing.”
“Have been?” I asked, even more confused now. “You mean they have been changing after you have already had them? Showing you something different?” I barely got the words out before the memory of my tears was replaced by another, one of a man yelling. One I had pushed into the dark recesses of my mind so long ago I was amazed it was still there.
“It’s just you and I and Sleeping Beauty over there. You can tell me.” I tried to make the joke sound as close to one Thom would have given. I even tried to make my voice match his gruff irritation. It didn’t suit me and made the whole thing more ridiculous, something Joclyn appreciated.
She smiled as I did, her body leaning forward to wrap her warm hands around mine, my little sister reaching out to me.
“My sights are changing. I will have one, and then days later, I will have it again, and it will be different. And not just a little different, either … very different.”
“Are you sure they are the same sights? Of the same time and incident?”
She nodded.
“How are they changing? Time? Place? Subject?”
She nodded again.
“All of them?”
Again, a nod before she said, “I know they are the same; I can feel it. It’s like the sight before you woke up. I saw it. I saw the roofs. I saw the Vil?. But when it came again, when I pulled it through the recall, it was different. It’s the same roof, but it’s like the picture was taken with a wider lens. It’s the same attack, but it shows it from a different angle. People are in different places. Some are missing. Different things are shown. So I know it’s the same … but not.”
She was struggling for words, talking in circles, and I didn’t blame her. The way she spoke about it, the way she talked about the feeling within them, was the same.
The memory within me was growing stronger as the pieces fell together, my heart thundering in my chest as I sat, staring at my sister. My fear was increasing with each moment that passed.
“How often…?” I could barely get the question out; my mouth was dry.
“That’s all there is now. I don’t know what to follow anymore. I don’t know what’s right. Everything contradicts each other, and it all looks different. More than the clear and static images, it’s all distorted, like a television with bad reception.”
“Like someone is changing them.” I spoke without meaning to, the memory breaking through my mind so abruptly my body was shaking.
Joclyn tightened her hand around mine, obviously desperate to help.
“Yes.” Her voice was shaking as much as mine was. “I … How…?”
“When I was a child, fresh from the mud, my Drak abilities came on strong, much as yours did after I gave you the water. They were as strong as our father’s when he first awakened, or so he told me.” I stopped then, my focus pulling from the intently listening child before me to the mug in my hands.
The memory ripped through me so violently I was reminded of why I had chosen to forget, why I had chosen to push it so far into the deep recesses of my soul that having it return was like a painful dissection.
Everything was too intense, too vivid. The emotions behind them were too strong, the fear too deep.
“I don’t remember much of those days,” I admitted. “But I do remember one. One day, I was probably nearing one hundred at the time, I saw a girl, a Trpaslík. She was tall and fair, so different than the rest of her kind. At first, I had confused her for a Sk?ítek, but then the sight came…”
Joclyn leaned forward as if she would be able to tap into a recall. Except, there was none, not anymore. Only a memory of the girl remained, only the painful bite of the sight that never was.
At the time, the sight had come on as strong as they had been in the beginning. I had felt my father tense beside me as I saw the girl on the street; except, in the sight, she was older, her hair long, her face lined. She stood beside a man, and in her arms was a baby boy. I had seen the boy grow before my eyes. A strapping Trpaslík, he was strong, and you could easily tell he was one of their leaders. I had watched as he found a mate of his own. Her appearance was so sweet and stunning it was burned into my memory.
My father had gasped as he tapped into the sight, as he saw what I had. His anger was so quick and evident that, before the sight had even finished, he had dragged me into an alley, the shadows of the city buildings hanging over us like cobwebs, drowning us in darkness.
His voice had been a hiss of anger I had never heard before as he pressed me into the wall, jeering in my ear to forget what I had seen.
I am the first of the Drak, and it is my responsibility to make sure all of the Draks below me see what I approve and do what is allowed. That starts with you, Dramin. Never question me, son. Don’t be a Zlomeny. Those will be killed.
He had been so kind before that moment, so loving. He had given me life and raised me, and everything he had said was true, so I agreed.