Soul born

Power. Tulle sensed it, a deep well of potential, waiting to be unlocked. Her hands shook. What was she going to do? Again she felt a gentle flare of energy. It rose softly expanding outwards like a soap bubble riding on a gentle afternoon breeze. It caressed her senses, sliding across her mind like fine silk flowing across smooth skin.

Soul Born? He can't be.

She reached out slowly and placed the back of her hand lightly on her sleeping son's face. He stirred under her gentle touch, making a single quiet moan. Once again she felt the soft flow of energy emanate from his sleeping form.

He’s too young. He’s only six summers.

Tears welled in her brown eyes. They began a slow journey over her high cheekbones gathering momentum as they flowed downwards to her round jaw. There they hung, clinging to her bronze skin, defying gravity, until finally they fell onto the white cotton pillow making a barely audible tuft sound when they hit. She held herself arms wrapped tight around her middle, choking back the sobs. Her stomach spasmed with each wracking sob.

Soul Born. My Son. They will take him from me.

That thought sobered her. Tulle gathered her senses, digging deep within herself to find the strength she needed. A strength she was afraid she lacked. It had been too many years since she had tapped into her talent. If she was caught, Tulle knew what they would do to her. If she was caught.

So don't get caught.

Eyes closed in concentration, her breathing ragged, Tulle focused on creating a finely woven net of energy. Minutes passed. Her body quivered with the effort. Sweat gathered on her forehead, on the back of her neck and under her arms. Tulle didn’t notice. Slowly, painfully slow, the air around them turned a golden hue. Tulle cast her net allowing it to close upon her son, letting it wrap and mould itself to his small form.

Again and again she cast the same golden web of energy weaving it with painful intricacy into a shield that would mask his mind from detection. Tulle could only hope it would be enough. She kept on, refusing to stop for rest.

Hours passed. Slowly the wafting waves of energy rising up from her son subsided. When she could no longer sense the emanations, Tulle delved into his sleeping mind. She searched for any sign of the power she had sensed earlier. It was there buried deep inside the net that she had cast. Barely detectable. Tulle sighed.

She had done it. Tulle noticed the pain signals flowing from her arms and legs. With a low moan she lay down beside her son's small form, her entire body shaking with the exertion, her cotton robes sticky with her sweat clung to her mature figure. She didn’t care. She had done it. She had hidden Athuans’ mind. She knew it wouldn’t last long.

She knew it wasn’t strong enough. But it would give her time. Time to think. Time to make plans. She looked through water filled eyes at the peaceful sleeping face of her son. She stroked his gleaming black hair, delicately pulling it back from his forehead and tucking it behind his ears.

She pulled her son protectively against her. He stirred fitfully. She kissed his forehead.

They cannot have him. Soul Born or not. They cannot have him.