The 23 Enigma

In the 23rd Hour of the 23rd Day of their 23rd Year, the Vessel shall receive a gift of unprecedented magnitude

                   --Chronicles of the Vessel, the Light, and the Dark



“What if I’m the Vessel?”

Chelsea looked at her adult son. Though normally a broad, tall man, Dillon currently sat hunched over his well-worn copy of the Chronicles at Chelsea’s kitchen table. “What do you mean?” she finally answered.

Looking at his mother, his dark eyes contrasting his bright, wide smile, Dillon said. “If I’m the Vessel, what kind of gift can I look forward to tonight?”

Frowning, she answered. “You ask the same questions year after year. Scholars have spent centuries piecing this together so we could be prepared, Dilly Boy.”

“Ma…”

“Sorry, my son. Dillon. According to the Chronicles, the gift is unprecedented. There’s no way we can know what it is. As for how we know it could be you? Well, you are the 23rd heir to D’Sognia, the last Vessel.”

Chewing her lip after the words came out, Chelsea thought back to her childhood when the Chronicles were being crammed down her throat, when the Elders started understanding that her generation would most likely give birth to the next Vessel.

And also the danger she’d been in from factions of both the Dark and the Light.

According to the legends, only a person distilled through their bloodline twenty-three times would be pure enough and strong enough to harness the powers of the Realm Beyond, a place where the forces of Dark and Light constantly waged war with each other with the Mortal Realm being their ultimate prize.

As soon as that being was born, both the Light and the Dark knew it. They would stop fighting and instead focus their energy on reaching the Vessel in this world. Their hope was to inject their power into it and gain an advantage over their enemy by curbing the tide from this side of the Realm.

Chelsea wasn’t totally in agreement with what the Chronicle purported to say, but she did recognize that society had known peace for the last twenty-three years. While Light and Dark wage constant war in the Realm Beyond, that negative energy bleeds into the Mortal Realm, causing war, violence, and despair. If true, then the fighting had indeed stopped and led to a more harmonious world for all.

But if it’s about to come to an end when my son receives his power, what do we have to look forward to?

Catching herself, Chelsea pursed her lips at the thought. If, not when. If. There was no way to know for certain that Dillon would be receiving the gift. He wasn’t the only candidate for being the Vessel. His cousins, Michael and Shara, were just as likely to be chosen; he in Australia and she in Chile.

Checking the clock, Chelsea felt her heart skip a beat as the time crept closer to 2:00 PM. Though the Chronicles clearly stated it was in the 23rd hour when the gift would be given, most scholars speculated it strictly meant Romanian time, where the ancestors first discovered their true heritage. As a result, the gift would be bestowed soon.

She started trembling, thinking how everything would change if Dillon was chosen. The uncertainty of it all unnerved her the most: the Vessel itself was a mystery, but so was the apparent gift.

Alternately, Chelsea also couldn’t help wondering if her entire religion was one big lie. If nothing would happen at all.

“Ma?”

Coming out of her thoughts, she realized Dillon stood before her, tall as ever. His bright smile was gone, replaced with a worried frown. “Ma, you okay?”

Her eyes unexpectedly began to well up a little. “Dilly, Boy, I’m good. I’m just…”

“Nervous? I am, too. I mean, what if I am the Vessel? What will that even mean? And will I be filled with power from the Light or the Dark?”

Reaching to hug her son, Chelsea broke down, his shirt soaking her tears with ease. She wasn’t embarrassed to cry so suddenly and so hard. Though they were alone, they weren’t far from the Elders at any given point. They too didn’t fully understand if the gift would be benevolent or malignant.

Dillon pushed her away so he could look at her face. As his mouth opened, the clock chimed the hour and Chelsea felt a hot pain where her son held her forearms.

“Dilly Boy,” she started as he doubled over, falling to the floor and screaming. She reached down to his writhing body, shouting at her son to no effect.

He was starting to sweat through his clothes as he entered a fetal position. Without warning, one of his arms shot up, smacking Chelsea hard under her chin, knocking her back into the wall with a hard thud. As her vision blurred heavily and she felt herself slip into unconsciousness, she saw a shape similar to her son stand tall and straight. Then she was out.

* * *

Lifting his mother with ease, Dillon placed her on the bed in the backroom. After settling his hands against her forehead, he muttered to himself. The power coursing through him was nearly overwhelming, but he already knew how to control it.

Dillon also knew what he had to do to make sure his mother couldn’t remember witnessing his reaction to receiving the gift. With newfound knowledge of an ancient spell, he altered her mind so that she’d wake up and recall a more docile scene than what she had witnessed. It was the only way to keep himself and his power safe for now.



Though the gift may be apparent if the Light is victorious, the Dark may shade victory and hide itself, if only to inspire doubt in the Chronicles.

                   --Elder Jasper D.Volga, on the speculation of faith



Word Count: 977