Hybrids

Chapter I. The Birth of A Hero

Wandering Hill, District 13

26th of October, 995 N.T.







The sun nonchalantly fell behind the horizon until it was completely swallowed by the mountains to the northeast of Wandering Hill. As the nights black haze swept over the countryside; darkness consumed the pink hue left behind by the sun. The moon was barely visible through the clouds as lightning flashed on this somber night. But in the midst of this calm and cool autumn night; a blood curdling scream rang out only to be answered by the subtle rumble of thunder. The gut wrenching wail lasted for what seemed like forever before it suddenly ceased. The townspeople of Wandering Hill knew exactly what this meant – it meant that someone was going to die. Hastily the villagers of Wandering Hill got out of their beds as to lock their doors. On the north side of Wandering Hill was a large metal gate that surrounded Wandering Hill; the gate roughly stood ten feet tall and usually was guarded by the gatekeeper. Each night, just past dusk, the gatekeeper would lock the metal gate allowing no one to exit nor anyone to enter Wandering Hill. But tonight, on the only dirt path leading out of town, the hoofs of a horse could be heard beating the ground hard and rhythmically. As the horse hoofs continued to grew nearer another scream echoed off the trees. The aged gatekeeper who was sleeping in a wobbly old wooden chair next to the gate awoke in a stir, although he had terrible hearing.



“What’s the commotion?” growled his deep thunderous voice; his green eyes darted back and forth.

“Humph,” he mumbled to himself fixing the fur hat on his head with a sour look on his worn face. He put his hands together up to his mouth and blew hot air into them in attempt to warm them up. Then he rubbed them together a few times before jamming them in his pockets. The gatekeeper, at his ripe age, didn’t believe in ghost stories or anything otherworldly but as he was thinking about his poor circulation, suddenly the town gate which was always locked at nightfall … unlatched itself and fell to the ground landing with a thud.

“What in the world!” roared the gatekeeper jumping up from his wobbly old wooden chair. Again an eerie shriek echoed through Wandering Hills bouncing off every tree surrounding the trail.

“It … it can’t be,” whimpered the gatekeeper in disbelief. The gatekeeper lit the lantern next to his chair and held it as high as he could up in the air as his head swiveled around looking for the source of the noise.

“Bloody kids –” he lied to himself in order to comfort his conscious. The gatekeeper carefully walked up to the gate and peered down the trail feeling quite foolish for a moment before yet another deathly howl boomed across Wandering Hill leaving him shaking. A powerful blast of wind swept across the countryside extinguishing the fire in the gatekeeper’s lantern. He brought his boney hand to his stubbly chin and stroked it skeptically.



“Chloros Dullahan,” he murmured to himself still peering down the long dusty dirt trail to the north. As he strained to see further than his eyes would allow, the trees surrounding the dirt path made it hard to visually make out anything as the shadows began to play tricks on the eyes. It was just this kind of nonsense that made him wish he would have retired in Pietra (the largest and military governing city in Elysian). As the gatekeeper picked up the lock and chain and safely secured the gate again; the lock and chain unlatched itself and fell to the ground once more.

“That is it! …. I didn’t sign up for this … hocus pocus!” he bellowed, abandoning his post, making his way home to his wooden house that looked identical to the next. Still the beating hoofs grew louder and heavier. Chloros Dullahan was one of the many servants of Death. Before his death he was a brilliant but greedy man who had great ambition but his downfall like many great men was power. An assassin crept into his home one night while he slept and severely wounded him with a clean cut from a sword. The assassin fled the scene leaving Chloros to die but before he pasted he made a deal with Death to become what he is today. As Chloros pulled up to the gate of Wandering Hill, its black horse with red eyes roared on its hind legs before Chloros hopped off its horse. Chloros wore a long black cloak and under one arm it carried its own head rendering its body headless. The head had a pale sickly yellow tint and wide bug eyes that protruded out their sockets darting around. A sadistic smile was held together by a horrendous stitching job in each mouth’s corner. Around its waist was an old fashion whip holder but it didn’t hold an ordinary whip. This whip was piece together bone by bone from its victim’s spinal cords. Those who didn’t know Chloros was near, could definitely could smell the vile throat gagging scent that it lugged around. As Chloros slumped to the main road in town; all the lanterns lighting the town died out at once. Chloros paced back and forth, the eyes in the head darting around like flies looking over the abandon streets. The night sky looked very purple like a storm was brewing in a caldron. A thick fog rose out of nowhere before a cold voice hissed and whistled through the mouth of the head.



“Valarie!” From inside the Bickel home, sobbing could be heard by the other families who remained hidden quietly throughout safe places in their own homes as desperate pleading and hollering echoed from the Bickel home. Chloros sluggishly sauntered over to the Bickel’s front door before brutally slammed its fist on the door causing the houses foundation rock. The Bickels thought any second the door was going to fly off its hinges but they knew that if Chloros entered their home it might put the black mark everyone’s soul. So Valerie – a middle aged widow that used to have long straight shiny black hair which over years had grown grey, frizzy and dull since her husband had past – decided that it would be best if she left without a struggle.

“Valarie!” Chloros hoarse voice roared from outside the house again. Now what the villagers of Wandering Hill didn’t know was that Valarie had murdered her husband. This is reason why Chloros was sent to claim her soul. Now Valarie, like many of people who reside in Wandering Hill, stumbled upon the town which her sister ironically resided too.

While she was in Wandering Hill her personality and demeanor changed; she became giving, kind and caring person. She walked her sisters children to school, shopped in the local shops and participated something the town was quite fond of … gossip. “What should we do!?” cried Valerie’s sister, black mascara running down her cheeks. Valarie’s brown eyes were clouded with guilt and remorse as she looked into her sisters innocence eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Valarie whispered in her sister’s ear. “I have to go.”

“VALARIE!” boomed the monstrous voice yet again.

“Good-bye,” said Valarie, she kissed her sister on the cheek and hugged her tightly before having to pry herself away. Then Valarie got up from the corner of the living room they were cowering in and made her way down the hallway. Their front door like the town gate swung open on its own, bashing in to the wall letting a gust of hair raising wind swept through the Bickel home. When Valarie saw Chloros’s pale skeleton fingers reached down to its spinal cord whip this caused her to stop dead in her tracks. Valarie’s body shivered viciously as she stared in its eye sockets. The smile on Chloros’s head seemed to stretch wider sensing the fear growing in Valarie. In a smooth quick motion Chloros unleashed its dreadful spinal cord whip, launched in the air and lashed it on to Valarie’s arm. Chloros yanked the whip digging into Valarie’s flesh causing blood to trickle down her forearm and drip off her fingertips as she was helplessly dragged outside. As Valarie laid on the ground, Chloros reached down with his ghoulish skeleton hand, scooped her up and tossed her over its shoulder. Valarie slammed her fists on the back of Chloros but it didn’t seem to feel anything, it just continued to stagger over to its deathly black stallion with ruby eyes. Effortlessly Chloros hopped on his horse with Valarie still over his shoulder and let out a beastly roar before its horse turned around disappearing back up the dirt trail from which it came. The thick fog followed behind Chloros as he left, all the lanterns magically re-lit themselves and the last thing anybody heard were hoofs pounding the dusty dirt trail rhythmically once again as they left Wandering Hill.



“And that is the end of tale,” said a middle aged russet skin man with wavy black hair to his son. His son looked up at him – he looked nearly identical to his father – his eyes wide, full of life and his jaw hanging down near his blanket that was pulled tightly up to his chin.

“That can’t be how it ends,” stated the wide eyed boy exuberantly.

“Tell me how it ends.”

“That is the end of the story,” said the father somnolently. He yawned loudly and got up from the chair next to his son’s bedside.

“But the bad guy got away …” stated James quite confused.

“Sometimes the villain gets the best of the good guy.”

“But your story didn’t even have a hero to challenge the villain?”

“Ah! – you are right,” smirking at his son’s cunningness. He only was eight years old but he was smart as a whip.

“You would save the woman that did crude and evil deeds?” He thought about it for a moment.

“No … but I wouldn’t let Chloros take her.”

“Dad?” the man’s son called and paused for a moment, “I think I could defeat him.” His father chuckled out loud, “Of course you could. You were born to be a hero, James.” He smiled proudly down at his son.

“But now it’s time to go to sleep. You can begin your journey to be a hero tomorrow, alright?” James nodded his head happily as his father stretched, then bent over the nightstand behind him and put out the lantern. The flame began to grow smaller and James watched the shadows on the wall shrink until the room was swimming in a sea of blackness.

“Dad?” called James yet again.

“Yes.”

“Do you think I can save mom?” Although the father was stunned and caught off guard by this question, he knew one day he would ask about his mother.

“If anybody could … it would be you.”

“Good-night James,” whispered his father, slowly backing out of his room and shutting the door behind him leaving James alone with his thoughts.



Chapter II. Satyr Woods

Wandering Hill, District 13

29th of April, 1003 N.T.



James Daedalus had a long, lanky frame and golden brown skin accompanied by wavy black hair. Although James had a rough childhood growing up in a single parent home, he had grown to be a respectable young adult. He followed the town rules, studied hard and never disobeyed his father. He was intelligent but yet lacked focus as his mind moved at a rapid pace causing what teachers described as inattentiveness. Still he tried hard to be like his father as education and work ethics were two things Mr. Daedalus spoke very highly of.

“You have to have ambition – yes – ambition is a virtue like patience or at least I …” Mr. Daedalus, James’s father, voice trailed off as he rambled on. Mr. Daedalus beamed down at his son who was beginning to look more like him everyday; except he had his mother’s hazel eyes. It killed Mr. Daedalus every time he looked in his son’s eyes because they painfully reminded him of his wife. As James progressed into his second year at Wandering Hill Education, or W.H.E. for short; his teachers began to notice peculiarly strange incidents involving James. This caused one teacher in particular at W.H.E. to schedule a parent-teacher conference with his father, Mr. Daedalus. Now Mr. Daedalus feeling quite disgruntle had to close his store in the heart of town to attend this meeting. He was very displeased to say at the least. When he reached W.H.E. and found Mr. Ruskin’s classroom, the teacher who orchestrated this conference. When Mr. Daedalus entered he found three teachers sitting around a table in gloomy and bare walled classroom.



“Hello, Mr. Daedalus,” said a well groomed man wearing a slick grey suit holding his hand out for Mr. Daedalus to shake, “My name is Theodore Ruskin.” Mr. Daedalus

returned the hand shake and nodded to the two other teachers present. One teacher was a snazzy dressed woman who was rather lean with a long pointy nose that she directed to the sky. The other teacher in attendance was a man wearing a casual brown suit, he had thick rimmed glasses and had curly grey hair circling his head but none on top. Each of them had a mug of coffee in their hands.

“Mr. Ruskin … I don’t have a lot of time – can you explain what the problem is?” asked Mr. Daedalus impatiently.

“Of course, Mr. Daedalus – of course,” Mr. Ruskin said clearing his throat before he went on, “now all three of us, Mr. Hallow, Mrs. Dione and I, have witnessed strange events with your son.”

“What kind of strange things?” asked Mr. Daedalus with his brow raised. All the teachers looked at each other before Mr. Hallow spoke up, “Umm … yes … Mr. Daedalus, the other day I think that I saw James … umm … disappear.”

“What do you mean disappear?” Mr. Daedalus spat, “I saw him this morning!”

“Yes – quite right – but I think you misunderstand my meaning of disappear.”

“Perhaps, you should use a different word,” replied Mr. Daedalus smartly.

“Well to make this as simple and clear as possible – he was sitting in front of me. I blinked and he was gone. As I got up from my chair and walked to the door, looked down the hallway only to see it was deserted. But when I turned back around, he was sitting in his chair. I just don’t …”



“Yes – yes, the same thing happened to me,” cut in the woman, Mrs. Dione, whispering like people were eavesdropping on them, “except it wasn’t in my classroom … he was

walking alone in the hallway. He didn’t see me but as I watched him walk down the hallway … he more or less … became transparent.” Mr. Daedalus shook his head.

“He was solid and then he became transparent. I could see the lockers right through him. That would be the easiest way to explain what I saw,” she finished and leaned back in her seat and crossed her legs before taking a sip from her mug.

“I see – do all of you take medication with your coffee in the morning or with your lunch in the afternoon?” joked Mr. Daedalus.

“This is no laughing matter Mr. Daedalus! If you son can do these things then that means he is showing early traits of becoming a hybrid!” spewed Mr. Ruskin, his red face stood out from the others like a cherry in a pile blueberries.

“As ridiculous as it sounds – we believe it to be true.”

“I don’t know if you do realize how ridiculous it sounds! Are you three professional educators telling me that you believe in a child’s bedtime story about superhuman –?” ranted Mr. Daedalus before Mr. Hallow cut in, “Hybrids – Mr. Daedalus – hybrids.”

“It has been nearly …”continued Mr. Hallow before Mr. Daedalus interrupted, “I think I have heard enough. Good day.” Mr. Daedalus coarsely turned his back, left the school and when back to work.



“Humph … hybrids,” he thought to himself as he rode his auburn spotted horse back to his store where he sold hats, boots and other clothing accessories. He remember when his father, James’s grandfather, told him stories of hybrids. He remembered one in particular many many moon ago about two assassins attempting to assassinate the captain of the Band of Phalanx(governing military). As rumors started to spread throughout Elysian that the assassins were in fact were hybrids; the Band of Phalanx decided to place bounties on anyone who claimed to be a hybrid or affiliated with one. Needless to say, the Band of Phalanx never caught a single hybrid and still today the bounty still stands true. Mr. Daedalus wouldn’t believe in such fabricated fairytales but there were many people throughout the land of Elysian, like the teachers, that felt otherwise. When James returned to school the next day none of his teachers told him what his father and them spoke about nor did his father the previous night. At school James had a few friends: Mason Megaera, the bulky and bossy leader of their crew. Mason often wore a cut off leather vest and talked out the side of his mouth which James thought was strange to say at the least. Next was Isaac Childress, he was a reserved child who found himself doing whatever the cool kids were doing and lastly was Jewel Enyos, Jewel a tomboy that always wore her hair in a ponytail and often practiced karate. Now Mason was a covetous and devious boy but for no good reason. His parents were well-educated explorers that were glorified around Wandering Hill for their discoveries. Well one day while Mason was doing his fare share of eavesdropping when he overheard his parents speaking of mysterious sightings in Satyr Woods, to the south of Wandering Hill. Satyr Woods was often the center of the town gossip as the villagers believed that Satyr Woods was cursed and that a witch lived deep at heart of the woods. The misguided construction of the town gate by early settling townspeople left Satyr Woods within the town gate.



“The Goodman brothers said they found a rare plant called Dancing Jade in Satyr Woods but while they were doing research, they saw an unexplained figure within the woods and –.”

“No,” said Mrs. Megaera before her husband could finish telling her the rest of the recent

town gossip.

“Huh?”

“Before you suggest that we blindly go searching in Satyr Woods – for a flower.”

“But –”

“I still think we should seek out The Book of Apollo, I can feel – ”

Mason, who was listening down the hallway of their wooden home, retreated back into his room after he heard this news. He always wanted to be a treasure hunting explorer and this was the perfect opportunity. The next fortnight passed before Mason’s parent left to search for The Book of Apollo and he decided that he wanted to see what was in Satyr Woods for himself. After a grueling day at school Mason told the rest of his gang about what he overheard. Isaac and Jewel told Mason that they both had papers to write for Mrs. Conway’s class that were due the next day so they couldn’t accompany Mason but James didn’t have an excuse or homework to do that night.

“Then it’s settled – James, you are coming with me,” Mason said bossy as ever. Without an excuse, James unwillingly accepted these terms, nodding his head.

“Meet me at the Blood Sap tree that grows at the peak of the hill overlooking the town and the cemetery at midnight.”

*

The moon brightly lit up Wandering Hill as James snuck out his bedroom window after his father fell asleep. It was ten minute pass the stroke of midnight before James reached

the top of the hill and was standing next to the Blood Sap. He could see the thick red sp on the coating the bark of the tree. Mason, however, was nowhere in sight as James looked down the slope of the hill to the cemetery grounds just before Satyr Woods. In confusion he turned around and peered back down at the town. He wondered where Mason was? He saw several lanterns lighting up the town that was silent as a grave. As James turned back around to look down at the cemetery he saw a black figure sweep across the path leading to Satyr Woods.

“What was that?” James said out loud to himself. Was he losing his mind? He had been feeling a bit odd lately and he had notice people watching him like they were waiting for him to burst into flames. Curiosity forced him to walked down the hill to the cemetery to inspect the mysterious figure. When James reached the bottom of the hill the air was crisp and a faint ankle high fog coated the ground but he didn’t see the black figure. He just saw dozens of headstones lined in rows in front of him. An unpleasantly cold draft of air whipped around James sending chills down his spine. The hair on his arms stood on end. As he advanced forward passing headstone after headstone he recognized a few of the names, ‘Thomas Cobalt born 12th of May, 787 N.T. died November 842 N.T,’ he read the closest cracked and weather worn headstone next to him. As James wandered further forward – still reading the headstones he pasted – he saw the mysterious shadow out the corner of his eye swept across a headstone a few yards away.



“Hey!” yelped James. His own voice responded him. It echoed around the cemetery. He came upon a tall dead tree with dry bark and a crow cawed at him from a high branch.

“James!” called a voice some distance behind him. James nearly jumped out his skin as he spun around to see who called his name. When he did so his left leg banged up against a headstone next to him causing him to topple over and wail in pain. He pulled up his pant leg and saw that a nasty knot was forming and blood was trickling down his leg. As he laid there on the ground clutching his leg he heard footsteps rapidly bounce down the hill. James was to afraid to look over the headstone. So he was cowered behind the headstone as he listened to footsteps draw nearer and nearer.

“James?” called the apprehensive voice again but this time James recognized it immediately.

“Mason?” he answered back, standing up forgetting about his shin that was certain to turn indigo and purple by the days beginning.

“How did you get down here?” asked Mason standing on the dirt path leading to Satyr Woods.

“What do you mean?” asked James confused. He had walked down here. How else could he have got down here?

“I mean – I didn’t see anybody walk down the hill. I just heard you howling,” Mason eyed James curiously, “Never mind … lets go and find the Dancing Jade.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t go in yet – maybe,” he tried to think of an excuse, “we should wait for Isaac and Jewel before we go bushwhacking and exploring.” He closed his eyes for a second, he wanted to kick himself for not being able to come up with something better.

“It is alright if you are scared, but this is our chance to get recognized,” As they continued to inch there way down the dirt path to Satyr Woods they finally came across the entrance. Just before the woods entry was a wooden sign on a stake that was drove into the ground. The sign had red letters splattered across the wood that read: Danger! Do not enter.

“Spooky,” muttered Mason continuing to walk down the path into the woods. The trees in the Satyr Woods grew wildly overlapped one another fighting for air and space to grow. As they skulked into the woods the smell of fresh soil lingered in the air. The roots of the trees grew thick and chucky as they bulged out of the ground pushing the puny roots

peppered along the wood floor out of the way. The trees had thick emerald green moss growing on their trunks matching their leaves. Rowdy shrubs grew waist high and full of thorns challenging any foe to try and eat its luscious purple berries.

“Ouch!” yelped James, “these bushes are overflowing with blasted thorns!”

“Step aside!” shouted Mason confidently as he ripped a low branch off a near by tree and began bushwhacked through the swarm of thorns carelessly. Soon Mason realized he had never traveled this far into the woods before. His parents would scowled him if they knew he was off exploring and lurking in Satyr Woods this late at night. The moonlight created black silhouettes as Mason led the way slashing bushes, branches and clearing huge spider webs out the way. A few spider webs clung to James’s face causing him to holler, grab Mason and Mason to jump.



“What are you doing?” he whispered coarsely. Traveling even deeper in to the wood they came to an open circular space. There were two ruffled cots next to a small camp fire. A dazzling view of the night sky which was penciled with stars hovered above them angelically. It actually was quite beautiful but the growing nervousness and anxiety wouldn’t allow James to enjoy himself. He was completely surrounded by smothering darkness.

“This must be where the Goodman Brothers set up camp,” stated Mason setting down the stick he was carrying and picking up a nap sack left behind by the Goodman Brothers. He opened it and pulled out several items: matches, a switchblade, a roll of twine and a folder full of research papers.

“Useless,” he muttered.

“Find anything good?” asked James leaning up against a tree.

“Nah,” Mason replied dropping the nap sack to the ground. Suddenly they heard the unmistakable sound of an extended hiss from behind a thick group of shrubs near James.

“What was that?” cried Mason, bending over, swooping up his bushwhacking stick

“We should get out of here,” replied James fretful. But Mason wouldn’t allow them to abandon there hunt now. He cautiously crept up to the row of shrubs. As he lingering in front of the bushes for a moment he stood on his tippy-toes trying to get sight of what was in the bushes. He could not see anything. Feeling like he was obligated to found out what was in the shrubs Mason plunged his stick into the closest bush. Mason withdrew the stick from the bushes and took a step back. He immediately regret jammed the stick into the bushes as another hiss echoed out. Mason readied himself to sling the stick into the bushes again a black figure unexpectedly rose up. It wore a menacing black hooded cloak that appeared to look like it was attached to it’s body. Mason stumbled back bewildered. He was close enough to see the figures skeleton like features beneath its hood grinning at him menacingly.



“Oh my!” shouted Mason bumping into James.

“It’s the witch, Lucinda!” cried James pointing at the figure. Mason took a swing at the cloaked figure with his stick but to his dismay the stick went directly through the cloaked figure. Mason frantically tossed the stick to the ground in a panic.

“What are you!?” shouted Mason. “What do you want?” The figure held his hand up and pointed to both of them without uttering a single word.

“It can’t be Lucinda!” cried Mason flustered, “the stick went right through it!”

“What should we do?” cried James. The figure tilted it head to the side like dog would. It appeared to be looking at James now. After a moment the figure realized that they weren’t going to come but still it gestured for them to come closer.

“No way!” shouted Mason. The figure seemed to be growing frustrated. Finally it lowered it hands from them.

“I think it is going to leave,” said James hopefully. But then suddenly the figure made a quick motion and held up both hands and made a motion like it was pulling rope and Mason’s body jerked forward and he collapsed on the ground.

“What in – ” hollered Mason. “Stop it! I promise I won’t come in to the woods anymore! I’ll do whatever you want!” James listened to Mason beg and plead as he rushed over to his side and picked him up off the ground. But Mason again collapsed to the ground. An invisible force seemed to be pulling him closer to the black cloaked figure. Closer and

closer Mason slid to the figure as James tugged Mason in the opposite direction, both of them shouting at the top of there lungs. After much struggling when they were only a few feet away from the figure it held hand out to James.

“No!” cried James raising a hand up to shield himself from the figure.

“Your time has come,” whispered the cloaked figure with a weak cold hiss. It stretched its arm out like it was going to touch James’s face.

“No!” bellowed James and something extraordinary happened. Energy currents began to surge from fingertip to fingertip on the hand James was using to shield himself. The figure tilted it head once more. The energy collected itself in a ball in the center of James’s palm before it exploded outward like a ripple in a pond. Momentarily blinded from the blast, James backed up a couple steps, doing so he misplaced his footing. Tumbling over one of the fallen trees, he slammed his head on the ground knocking him unconscious.



Chapter III. History Versus Myth

Satyr Woods, District 13

13th of May, 1003 N.T.



When James regained consciousness his head felt heavy as a bowling ball. He blinked several times and shook his head before he came to his senses. Immediately his heart began to quicken its pace as he realized that he was being restrained. Around his hands, torso and legs was a rope binding him to chair. Suddenly a warm sensation swam over him from head to toe. He felt dizzy and his vision became clouded with white spots. He didn’t understand what was coming over himself. As he battled this weird heat flash an old blues record crackled in the background – he didn’t recognize the song, still he thought about it as to direct his mind elsewhere. Breathing in long and deep for a moment, James could taste a mixture of mothballs, wet wood and stale smoke in the air. Through his blurred vision, James could tell that he was in some sort of wooden hut or cabin; he just hoped that he was in the woods still. He was facing a lantern and he could hear a fire snapping, crackling and popping behind him and that didn’t make sense to him. He decided to close his eyes and concentrate and focusing his eyes. After a minute of hearing nothing except the fire ablaze behind him he opened them. To his surprise it actually helped. His vision wasn’t crystal clear but it was far better than it was. He now peered around the cabin to see where he was; to the right of him was a cot made out of an assortment of feathers, leaves and thick wool blankets. To his left was a cluttered desk piled with stacks of papers, beakers and other assorted objects. The object that stood out the most to him though was the mortar and pestle. He definitely would like to get his hands on a set like this one. Behind the desk was a small nightstand that held the record player that was still churning out music.



“Oh my goodness! – this is where the witch – Lucinda Cobalt lives!” he thought with fear bubbling like water coming to a boil.

“How did I end up here? Why can’t remember anything?”

“Your memory is gone forever,” said a woman’s crackly voice from the dark corner behind James.

“What!?” shouted James. His eyes bolting from side to side.

“No it isn’t,” she chuckled, “I’m sorry, was that in bad taste?”

“Who – who is there? How did you hear what I was thinking?”

“I have waited many moon for you … James Daedalus.” The words seemed cold and harsh.

“Lucinda?” he whimpered as his legs beginning to shiver and tremble.

“That – is a name that I haven’t heard in sometime,” the woman muttered. James imagined a twisted face woman with a hideous sneer baring no teeth and spiders in her hair.

“What are you going to do to me?” he whimpered.

“Help you,” she replied casually.

“Help me? I don’t need any help,” said James convincingly. “I promise, just let me go …”

“I see … yes … then you will be able to physically and mentally deal with the changes you’re about to go through?”

“Changes?” questioned James slightly confused.

“Indeed.”

“What changes?”

“The changes one goes through becoming a hybrid.”

“Whoa! Wait a minute … you’re joking – right?”

“In fact; this is clearly and identifiably the most significant moment of your life.”

“Oh … is that so?” replied James snidely. James could hear her walking behind him as the floorboards creaked.



“It all started the day after Judgment Day. And while people weren’t supposed to survive after Judgment Day … they did. The planet was in delicate condition and with a couple hundred survivors, people cautiously began to re-build civilization. First was the assembly of The Band of Phalanx (military and government) in a stone city called Pietra. After some time they restarted the calendar except the addition of N.T. (new time) was established. After hundreds of years pasted between the dates 700 N.T. and 800 N.T. an explorer by the name of Colossus Templar found a lost, forgotten and buried temple. Inside the temple he found three elder prophets. The three elder prophets were being supernaturally bound against there will and cursed forever to dwell inside the temple but Colossus did not know why. Bound to the temple the three prophet told Colossus that if he released them in return for setting them free he would become the first hybrid. They simply said a hybrid is a human capable of performing extraordinary acts with supernatural abilities and that was it. Colossus, who longed for power saw this as his perfect opportunity for him. Colossus agreed to these terms although he didn’t have the slightest idea about what it meant becoming a hybrid or how he was going to receive these powers. He asked the elder prophets how and when these powers would come to him and they replied when the time is right. Colossus absolutely feed up with the situation decided still to helped the three elder prophets. Disappointed he found nothing on his discovery except ancient prophets with fictional tales of powers he returned to Pietra.



Months pasted and Colossus returned from another journey, still powerless, but to find that his wife had bore his son. They named him Osiris. They say that while Colossus was working for the Band of Phalanx he slowly began to gain his abilities over time. But time passed a few Band of Phalanx members found out about his abilities and Colossus incidentally murder one of the men. The Band of Phalanx feared this extraordinary being and worse would be the outcome if the public found out about a man with such powers. So they held a private trial and sentenced him to death but before they executed him the Band of Phalanx interrogated and tortured him for quite some time. They wanted to know where he came from and how he could do what he did but Colossus revealed no information on how he could do what he did nor how he attained his powers, he just said I am a hybrid. While the Band of Phalanx thought over what to do two people devised a scheme to save Colossus. The perpetrators infiltrated the Band of Phalanx but were unsuccessful in there attempt to save Colossus and they too were executed along with Colossus.



Soon rumors began to spread throughout Elysian about the wrongful slaying of three innocent men. The Band of Phalanx thought about covering up there tracks but instead decided to tell the truth the public. They stated that the perpetrators were hybrids and attempted to assassinate the Band of Phalanx’s captain. But the people didn’t understand what a hybrid was or where they came from, so they were explained all the information that the Band of Phalanx had. Much residents of Pietra laughed and scoffed at the idea of such a thing could exist. Still the Band of Phalanx placed bounties on anyone claiming to be a hybrid but it didn’t stop there. Over the next decade magicians, illusionist or anyone in the Band of Phalanx’s eye that could do bizarre things were arrested but that died off as soon as the next captain took over the Band of Phalanx. During that decade Colossus wife placed there son Osiris in an orphanage so the Band of Phalanx wouldn’t seize him. As Osiris was finally told who his father was and what happened to him he thought it was absurd that a person could have those types of abilities and if he had had them it would have been different. It just so happened that Osiris did become a hybrid through blood. The same blood he donation more than several times to the Pietra clinic before he knew his blood could create hybrids. After a word spread about a few people doing odd peculiar things, the Band of Phalanx once again focused its attention on hybrid.



As Osiris grew even older he organized a cult following of hybrid that he created or found him. He spoke of a change in power and how ordinary humans should be moved down the chain of command as the day of hybrids was upon them. He was very convincing and manipulative; as Osiris recruited nearly seventy percent all hybrids while the other thirty percent decided to live their lives as normal as possible while hiding their abilities. Rumors rolled like rip tides across Elysian, speaking of a new union that was going to challenge the Band of Phalanx. One hybrid knew of Osiris’s plan, Baron Helios, a hybrid who happened to know Osiris’s father, Colossus. Baron planned to stop Osiris and his loyal group of followers which called themselves Shadow Walkers. Baron got a group hybrids to agree to help him take on Osiris. The group included four well trained and highly skilled hybrids and one loose cannon. After an epic battle which resulted in many loses on both sides the Shadow Walkers ended up more victorious. Though seventy-five percent of the Shadow Walkers were slain, Baron at his old age couldn’t last the entire battle and in his weak state was slain by Osiris who then fled with a few of his Shadow Walkers. Since then nearly all hybrids have remained inactive and dormant.”

James mouth was widen a bit in shock as he stared off into distance. The story he had just

heard was detailed and well told but after he thought about it for a moment he realized that it was just a well rehearse story from a batty old woman.

“Well that was fascinating – I haven’t heard such an enchanting fable since my father would tell me bedtime stories,” James said courteously.

“This is no fairytale … what I speak of is part of your history now!”

“My history!” exclaimed James. “I think you have the wrong person – wait – everybody knows hybrids aren’t real.”

“Aren’t real!?” shouted the woman. The lantern in from of James blew out on its on. It reminded him of the story of Chloros his father would tell him.



“Well … if you won’t believe me I will just have to show you,” she said coldly. She stalked over to the chair he was bound too, placed her bony hand on top of his head and stroked his hair causing him to flinch and then quiver. She opened her mouth like she as about to speak but then stopped.

“Actually…” she said slyly, “I have a pretty piece of eight here on my desk. One side has a cross and pillars while the other side has waves and a date. One side will represent me while the other represents you. Which side do you choose?” As she walked over to the desk, James turned his head and caught a quick glimpse of the backside of the lady. She was petite woman wearing a long black robe that stretched down to the floor and grey hair sitting on top of her head in a bun. But for fear of making eye contact with the woman James turned back around.

“I – err,” he stammered, “I choose the side with a cross.” She then muttered something beneath her breath that James couldn’t heard.

“Please, don’t jinx the coin,” James blurted out immediately regretting it.

“Clever boy,” she said walking back over to James side showing him the coin. She placed her bony finger on his shoulder and flipped the coin in the air. James tilted up and watched it spin through the air before landing back down in her hand.

“Ah! – the cross and pillars! You win!” she exclaimed, “but I think it will be more fun and less strenuous for you if I show you.”

“Show me what?” asked James. She stepped in front of him and James saw her clearly now but to James’s surprise the lady was much less frightening than he expected. She was exceedingly short with curly grey hair that was pulled tightly in a bun on top of her head. She had bushy eyebrows, a small button nose and light blue eyes seemed to be concentrating carefully. James saw that she had a scar on the left side of her fac that stretched from her ear down to her chin. She held her hands up in the air and two orange balls flew over James’s head in to both of the woman’s hands.



“I can manipulate fire at my own will. As of recently I have learned and trained myself to be able to generate my own fire. When I was younger – around your age – I could only manipulate fire that was already made rather than create my own.” As she moved her hands around in circles like she was dancing the fire floated and hovered in the center of her palm. Then her hands looked like they was molding clay as the balls of fire extended creating a sword. James stared in awe, squinting his eyes at the way she manipulated the fire.

“You – you are a witch!” he said bewildered watching flames leap from the fire blade

“That is but one of the many names we have been called over time; magicians, witches, wizards, sorcerers, assassins, ninjas … these are all names hybrids have been called or associated with.”

“This isn’t happening, this isn’t real!” cried James.

“Oh – it’s not!” shouted back the woman frustrated. The blazing blade in her palm went out like candle being blown and all that remained was ash and smoke in the palm of her hand.



“Then look at yourself!” She snapped her finger at him and a orb of fire shot from her fingertip and flew at James. James shouted in terrible agony before he realized that the fire wasn’t burning him but disintegrating the rope that bound him to the chair. James hopped up but before he could make any type of movement the lady placed a shard of glass into his hand and shoved it up to his face.

“Look into it!” she barked. Reluctantly James squinted into mirror but he couldn’t see anything.

“Something is wrong with this mirror … I don’t see anything.”

“Precisely … neither do I.”

“What? – what are you talking about?” he said and then the reality of what he was hit him like a heavyweight champ. His eyes travel up where is arm was suppose to be and then down to his chest. He screamed and scrambling back into the corner of the hut.

“Calm down.”

“You want me to relax … I’m invisible!”

“Maybe some day you can master your ability rendering yourself completely invisible but

now I would say – one of your abilities is camouflage. You can blend into your surroundings.”

“This can’t be happening!” he shouted. “How come I could see myself earlier?”

“This is why I am here to help you. I am your Keeper. You abilities seems to be going on and off like a switch.”

“Keeper?” questioned James, his heart pounding as he still stared up and down his transparent arm. He could clearly see that it wasn’t invisible as he moved it in the moonlight.

“A boring name for an important hybrids guardian.”

“Important?” questioned James again raising his head from his arm. He didn’t understand how or why this was all happening but it was happening and happening fast.

“We will get into details later.”

“Is that why that shadow figure tried to get me – because I am important?” asked James confused.

“Shadow figure? What kind of shadow creature?” she asked scowling. “Was it a Shadow Walker?”

“Uh – I don’t think so. This figure looked like a black skeleton; it wore a black cloak and hovered off the ground and …”

“What you saw was a Shade,” said the lady before James could finish describing what he saw.

“A Shade?”

“Yes – Shades are souls of the underworld, but this is unheard of – why would a Shade be

here and how it escaped is beyond me.” The lady sat quite baffled on the edge of her paper cluttered desk. The music had stopped playing in the background as the record reached the end.

“Come,” she said pointing to the door of the hut and the door opened itself smoothly.

“You can move things with your mind too!” shouted James in astonishment.



“Psychokinesis,” she corrected him. As they walked outside James found himself in another clearing; except this open area of the woods was much more spacious. James saw an enormous fire pit with two massive logs on opposite sides of each other. A fire pit that had freshly placed wood stacked neatly in the center of the pit. As they casually walked over to the fire pit and sat down on the logs, the old lady snapped her fingers and smoke began to rise from the fire pit. Soon fire began to burn slowly snapping and popping. James always enjoyed the smell of campfire but tonight his mind wouldn’t allow him to appreciate the campfire, cool breeze or the night sky.

“How did you manage to find me?” asked James after it had silent for some time.

“Pardon?”

“How did you come to pass me in the woods?”

“Well … I was about to put this stew on the fire,” she said pointing to a bulky caldron next to the fire pit, “but then I saw a blue wave flash through the woods a couple dozen yards away. I went to investigate the situation and I saw your transparent unconscious body laying motionless in the moonlight and – yes … – that should bring us up to date.”

“You didn’t see Mason or the Shade?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“James? – what was the blue light?” the lady asked curiously.

“I did it,” he admitted. “It was some kind of electric energy or something, I don’t know.”

“I see … it appears that you are going to be quite powerful someday. Perhaps you are destine to do great and marvelous things.” James could not believe what he was hearing.



He was destine for greatness? It just didn’t sound right. Just a week or so ago he was told that his teachers would holding a conference because of multiple things he had done. He was at a lost for words and sure didn’t feel special.

“So will you?”

“Will I what?”

“Let me help you so you may help us.” He thought about it for a moment; it sounded to weird to hear someone say that they needed his help.

“Yes I will.”

“Brilliant!” exclaimed the lady. “You know – you remind me of someone. Do you mind if I tell you another story James?”

“Not at all,” replied James.

“Alright – how should I begin this?” said the lady thoughtfully to herself, “This story will be disheartening and frustrating at times. This story is true. It doesn’t contain a drop of fabrication. I will try to make this as uncomplicated and simply as possible. There is nothing normal about this story except a boy falls in love with a girl. This story is about a boy named Adonis Simpleton and a girl named Theia Orion.