about her. The nun continued, “Yes, something’s different. You carry a burden larger than most. But it’s not beyond you.” Her feet rocked her slowly as she spoke, “Many people wander through this life, unsure of who they are. It doesn’t matter much to them. But it matters to you. The problem is that you see yourself, without really seeing yourself. You have no idea who you are yet. That’s a little unusual, but manageable.”
“So, what do I do?” I asked unsure. She was speaking in riddles. I felt like I should take out a note pad, so I could figure it out later. I hated riddles, mainly because I sucked at them.
Her aged eyes locked with mine, “You need to get rid of that anger seeping into your soul before it pollutes you.” She watched me. Closely. I didn’t move. I neither denied, nor affirmed it. I knew I had issues. But Eric didn’t seem to like her answer. Her arthritic hands grasped the rocker as she leaned forward toward Eric. “You show her how to handle that anger. Teach her to defend herself. And then we’ll train her up right, showing her how to use all her powers—as a Martis.” Her ancient eyes bore into mine, making me flinch.
Eric faltered, reaching for the right words, “Sister, I don’t know what you mean.”
Her head snapped toward him, “You do so, boy. And I expect you to teach her. Without losing that anger festering inside her, she’ll never become who she’s meant to be.”
I snorted, “ Meant to be? You think this is all destiny ?” I couldn’t help it. “This isn’t destiny! This isn’t fair!” This wasn’t my destiny! It was a death sentence.
Sister Al’s eyes swept across my concealed mark before she smiled gently, and said, “No, it’s not fair that you were turned so young, while I was turned so old. It’s not fair that you had no choice. But you have a choice now. You can choose which side you want to fight for. You can choose whom you align yourself with. And you can choose how you live. Life isn’t fair, child. But you wouldn’t have been chosen if there wasn’t something special about you.” Her skin was weathered like old leather, but her eyes still sparkled like they were young. “Come here Ivy.”
I looked at Eric and he nodded, encouraging me to go. To trust her. I looked at the woman. She was a nun. If I couldn’t trust a nun, I was severely damaged. Feeling silly, I padded across the carpet. It muffled my clumsy steps. I stopped in front of her rocker.
Sister Al leaned forward and said, “May I?” I nodded, not knowing what she was doing. Sister Al pressed her gnarled fingers into my palm. They scratched against my smooth skin like sandpaper. I felt my body tense, unsure of what she was doing. Her gaze remained on my hand, as she blinked slowly. When she released me, she turned her face up to mine. For a moment she said nothing, no sparkle in her eyes—no smile on her face. It was an expression I recognized in the eyes of my mother when she was notified that Apryl died. It was like time froze , and she was too stunned to blink or breathe. Sister Al held the same anguished expression.
When she spoke, her voice was low. “Dear girl.” She closed her eyes, shaking her head slowly. “You have a unique set of circumstances, don’t you?” I didn’t say anything. I just stood there, wide eyed waiting for her to out me. “Your vice is also your savior. That is a very sticky situation.”
“What is it?” I asked. My stomach folded over, squashing itself into nausea.
She smiled softly at me, releasing my hand. “Passion. You have the strength to follow through the things that you care about, but you also have the ability to be influenced by the things that haunt you. It’s going to be problematic at some point.
“Your passion will keep you alive Ivy Taylor, but it will also risk your soul. It dictates what you do, how you live, and with whom you lay your loyalties. Oh child. You have so much good in you, and so much
“So, what do I do?” I asked unsure. She was speaking in riddles. I felt like I should take out a note pad, so I could figure it out later. I hated riddles, mainly because I sucked at them.
Her aged eyes locked with mine, “You need to get rid of that anger seeping into your soul before it pollutes you.” She watched me. Closely. I didn’t move. I neither denied, nor affirmed it. I knew I had issues. But Eric didn’t seem to like her answer. Her arthritic hands grasped the rocker as she leaned forward toward Eric. “You show her how to handle that anger. Teach her to defend herself. And then we’ll train her up right, showing her how to use all her powers—as a Martis.” Her ancient eyes bore into mine, making me flinch.
Eric faltered, reaching for the right words, “Sister, I don’t know what you mean.”
Her head snapped toward him, “You do so, boy. And I expect you to teach her. Without losing that anger festering inside her, she’ll never become who she’s meant to be.”
I snorted, “ Meant to be? You think this is all destiny ?” I couldn’t help it. “This isn’t destiny! This isn’t fair!” This wasn’t my destiny! It was a death sentence.
Sister Al’s eyes swept across my concealed mark before she smiled gently, and said, “No, it’s not fair that you were turned so young, while I was turned so old. It’s not fair that you had no choice. But you have a choice now. You can choose which side you want to fight for. You can choose whom you align yourself with. And you can choose how you live. Life isn’t fair, child. But you wouldn’t have been chosen if there wasn’t something special about you.” Her skin was weathered like old leather, but her eyes still sparkled like they were young. “Come here Ivy.”
I looked at Eric and he nodded, encouraging me to go. To trust her. I looked at the woman. She was a nun. If I couldn’t trust a nun, I was severely damaged. Feeling silly, I padded across the carpet. It muffled my clumsy steps. I stopped in front of her rocker.
Sister Al leaned forward and said, “May I?” I nodded, not knowing what she was doing. Sister Al pressed her gnarled fingers into my palm. They scratched against my smooth skin like sandpaper. I felt my body tense, unsure of what she was doing. Her gaze remained on my hand, as she blinked slowly. When she released me, she turned her face up to mine. For a moment she said nothing, no sparkle in her eyes—no smile on her face. It was an expression I recognized in the eyes of my mother when she was notified that Apryl died. It was like time froze , and she was too stunned to blink or breathe. Sister Al held the same anguished expression.
When she spoke, her voice was low. “Dear girl.” She closed her eyes, shaking her head slowly. “You have a unique set of circumstances, don’t you?” I didn’t say anything. I just stood there, wide eyed waiting for her to out me. “Your vice is also your savior. That is a very sticky situation.”
“What is it?” I asked. My stomach folded over, squashing itself into nausea.
She smiled softly at me, releasing my hand. “Passion. You have the strength to follow through the things that you care about, but you also have the ability to be influenced by the things that haunt you. It’s going to be problematic at some point.
“Your passion will keep you alive Ivy Taylor, but it will also risk your soul. It dictates what you do, how you live, and with whom you lay your loyalties. Oh child. You have so much good in you, and so much
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