She heard their mutterings: Hid in the flower, did she? Fell asleep there and na remember? Na right in the head, she be.

“I’m Ule!” Her words echoed through the air and into the flower. She felt the gentle vibration through her toes.

Her grief diminished again. “The name Lishev has no meaning,” she ranted to everyone nearby. “Eh-lish means ‘love’ and ever-ah means ‘eternal’. I should know, I made your language. I made this being and all of you.” She waved her hand across the crowd.

As a Student, she was limited to using her power within the Laboratory and within any of her created worlds; those were the rules. In the early phase of a world’s evolution, using power in the presence of other life forms was often necessary, but once the Root Dimension stabilized and the An Energy diffused, demonstration of magic in front of other life forms was prohibited.

Tired of all the rules, she didn’t care if punishment awaited her when she returned home.

“How dare this world forget me! You all loved me once. I will make you love me again.”

She arched toward the sun. She envisioned multicoloured fireballs streaking toward the horizon. Sharpening her focus and intent, she summoned her will and stretched her arms skyward.

Not even sparks flew from her fingertips. She shook her hands and tried again, extending both arms, wriggling every finger, holding her breath, yet the dawn sky remained a constant blue.

The An Energy resisted.

It hummed in her ear, faint and distant. No matter how much she pushed her will, bright lights failed to shower down from the sky. The An Energy flowed around her instead of through her as it should, denying any access.

She fell into a heap on the flower struggling for air. Searching for any possible reason to explain the An Energy’s defiance, she finally let out a long sigh.

“It’s this awful desert!”

Puzzled and rejected, she found herself surrounded by folk attending to more pressing concerns—discussion of their dreams. Strange tales from the sleep realm pervaded while they nibbled on figs and cheese.

Their attempts to comfort Ule with a pat on the shoulder only added a layer of irritability to her frustration, grief, and anger. Beneath these feelings, fear pervaded in an ever-prickling chill.

She forced a deep breath, marvelled at the expansion of her lungs and her heartbeat returning to a solid, even thump-thump in her chest. A soft breeze tickled the fine blond hair along her arms. The sun stung her eyes. Silently, she cursed at the degree of sensitivity she felt being in this form.

“Enough of this dreariness,” she muttered.

She had come to the world to bathe in the remnants of her youth and remember what she liked best about herself, to commune with a friend, to soothe away her disappointments. Now that Elishevera had died and all that was familiar about the world had vanished, she much preferred to return to her realm.

Ule’s gaze turned inward and upward, toward the middle of her forehead. After a slight push of will, she felt the molecules of her body shimmy and prepared to ascend back to her realm, not caring if anyone saw or if she was reprimanded by her Master for being careless.

With eyes closed, she perceived the desert vividly in her mind. Perspective shifted, Elishevera flattened, and the horizon arced a degree or two before she slammed back into human form.

A tremor wracked her body.

Her eyes fluttered open. She glanced at the people squatting nearby but they were preoccupied with drawing symbols on Elishevera with stumps of charred wood. Perhaps the old man who first spoke to her might have seen something, yet when she saw that he sucked at a leather bound flask, studying her from a safe distance, she doubted his rum-skewed perception could offer any help.

Hitching her dress above her knees, she considered another position and sat cross-legged, toes pointing downward, pelvis tilted, head slightly bowed, neck straight. The alignment was challenging, but after she adjusted her hips and legs, she found ease in the posture and attempted ascending again.

Familiar warmth engulfed the length of her spine. She clung to the rising energy and with one last fierce push of will and bated breath, she collapsed.

Beneath the mid day sun, darkness overcame Ule.

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The Forgotten Gemstone, Book One in A Xiinisi Trilogy

© Kit Daven & Eager Eye Books, 2013.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any matter whatsoever without permission in writing from the author, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review or critical article.

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, situations, and references portrayed in this story either fictitious or are used fictitiously.

Cover art by Sean Chappell, RedFracture.com.