Sui Writes

Tag: MMFantasyfiction

  • A Thousand Years of Hope Ch 4-1

    A Thousand Years of Hope Ch 4-1

    Tani sat in the library until the sun disappeared from the horizon. The night filled the skies and the house filled with light from the lamps mounted on the walls. The library door opened, and in walked a tall man. Tani looked at him because it was the first motion in the room. The tall man was dressed in a black tailored shirt and dark trousers. His feet were in leather sandals. His red shoulder-length hair was in a short bun. The light from the lamps illuminated his chiseled features, his sharp green eyes reminded him of a fox studied Tani. The tall man narrowed his gaze as he turned on the closest lamp.

    “Why sit alone this long?”

    “Uncle Amu,” Tani said in greeting not making a move from the armchair. He leaned his head back to stare at the mural on the ceiling.

    “How is my mother?” Tani asked after a moment of silence. He knew his uncle had come from visiting the Ekho Realm. Unlike Tani, Amu could come and go as he pleased.

    “She is well,” Amu said, not saying more. He sat in the armchair across from Tani and touched the lineage book on the stool where Cale left it. “You’re brooding over the mortal.”

    “He’s no longer mortal,” Tani said. “He is a warlock born with fire.”

    “Interesting,” Amu said with a sigh. “You are finally gaining some luck.”

    Tani sat up then and met his uncle’s vivid green eyes.

    “Did you interfere with his lineage?”

    “Why bother?” Amu asked. “Tani, do you remember my first reaction to you binding your soul to him?”

    Tani smiled and dropped his gaze to his lap.

    “You beat me with a broom,” Tani said. “Then threatened to kick me out of your house.”

    “I’ve never hidden my feelings on the matter,” Amu said. “I’m relieved your calamity is ending. You can return to the Ekho Realm and live the life you deserve. You’ll forget the mortal soon enough.”

    “Uncle,” Tani said, used to this statement from his uncle. “I’ve been sitting here thinking that I don’t want to forget him.”

    “Your inability to let him go is always your greatest weakness,” Amu said. “So, what have you decided sitting here in silence?”

    “I wanted to give up,” Tani said. “Let it all go after all this time. Walk away.”

    “How futile,” Amu said. “Tani, you took the step to fight for him, despite me, your father, and the Septum. Finish it. At least when you face your father at the end of it, you will have no regrets.”

    Tani frowned.

    “You think I have regrets?”

    “Don’t we all?” Amu asked, his right brow rising in question.

    Tani scoffed.

    “Perhaps,” Tani said. “Okay. I’ll face Dante Arturo, to save him from whatever kills him.”

    “It will be to save you too,” Amu said. “You’re lost in a world of wasted hope. I’d love to see you free of it.”

    Tani shrugged.

    Hope was starting to dwindle away. He did not have the strength to hope with the energy he had used at the start. Now, his hope resembled a very small candle burning in a dark room. A breeze threatening to turn off the light every second.

    “One last time,” Amu said, as though reading his thoughts. “Tom has cleaned up your identification. In case your dealings with Dante make him curious.”

    “Thank you,” Tani said, rubbing his forehead with his left hand. “Um, Uncle Amu, is it possible for a bloodborne warlock to sense an Ekho’s presence?”

    Amu frowned.

    “Never heard of it,” Amu said. “Our illusions are quite strong, unnoticeable to the mortal eye.”

    “Even with a warlock?” Tani asked.

    “Yes. Our magik blends different from a mortal warlock,” Amu said.

    “Hm.”

    “Why?”

    Tani studied the bandage on his right palm. There was no need to hide his wound. Hera would have already shared the incident with Tom. Tom would have told Amu.

    “How strong does an Ekho need to be to create a bloodborne warlock powerful enough to burn me?” Tani asked.

    Amu’s gaze lingered on Tani’s right palm. When he looked up to meet Tani’s gaze, his green eyes were full of sadness.

    “None in the lower clans can make a fire warlock,” Amu said. “Not even our fox clan can manage it.”

    “So, it is an Ekho in the immortal clan,” Tani said.

    “Yes,” Amu said. “Not just the immortal clan, someone in the Septum itself. This is dangerous knowledge to have, Tani.”

    Tani scoffed.

    “They punish me for loving a mortal,” Tani said. “Yet they are wandering the mortal realm leaving offspring behind.”

    “They are not bonding their souls to mortals,” Amu pointed out, his voice tinged with bitterness.

    “You’ve never forgiven me.”

    “No,” Amu said. “Because it hurts your mother—”

    “Hurts my mother,” Tani cut in, shaking his head.

    Anger rose inside him so deep it threatened to choke him. He swallowed hard and glared at his uncle.

    “She hurt me first!” Tani said, raising his voice, unable to hold back his dissatisfaction with his mother.

    “Tani—”

    “She. Hurt. Me. First,” Tani said, pointing a finger at Amu, as he stood up. “You don’t get to bring her up to me. I’m the child she still can’t stand to look at because of her forbidden love for my father. I remain abandoned by her to this day. I will not hear of what she’s suffered.”

    Amu held his words.

    Tani turned away from his uncle taking in deep breaths to calm himself. He worked at not thinking about his mother. Tried not to remember the expression on her face when she last looked at him. He wished he could forget the hate he read in her eyes. He did not understand why she broke down in heartbreaking sobs when she looked at him.

    Tani stared at his right palm and shook his head.

    “You’re right about one thing. It’s my fault for being as weak as she was with my heart,” Tani said. “I dragged Dante into my world. I’ll save him from it.”

    “You can’t make such promises, Tani. I could not save your mother,” Amu said. “I could not save you from binding your soul to a mortal. What I’m trying to tell you is that you cannot save someone who doesn’t think they need to be saved. Free will is not something you can stop.”

    “He will not die because of me,” Tani said. “I won’t let it happen. Do we agree?”

    “Yes, sounds fair enough,” Amu said.

    “I will not ask for forgiveness from you,” Tani said. “You are right about my choices to bind myself to Dante. My love was freely given. It is not wrong. I don’t regret my choices.”

    “I don’t expect you to ask for forgiveness,” Amu said.

    Tani nodded and started for the door, cured of sitting in the dark now.

    “About your mother,” Amu said.

    Tani froze, standing still, holding his breath.

    “She asked about you,” Amu said, his voice low, careful. “Your mother gave me three apple trees she’s been tending to mark your born day. She was sorry she missed it last month. Do you want to plant them?”

    Tani closed his eyes, fighting down the urge to lash out at Amu for bringing up his mother. Thinking about her always left him feeling unhinged. Like a wildling lost in the forest without kin.

    “I’ll think about it,” Tani said, and left the library with fast steps.

    *~*~*~*~*

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  • A Thousand Years of Hope Ch 3-3

    A Thousand Years of Hope Ch 3-3

    “Where did you discover a maybe-warlock who would dare hurt you?” Hera asked, slipping her hand into the crook of his left arm, as she led him to the library. “You didn’t say where you were going when you left. Are you dating?”

    Tani grinned.

    “I’m afraid you’ll terrorize my partner if I start dating.”

    “Of course, he has to be terrorized.” Hera nodded, her slippers wrapping a beat on the wood floors as they walked. “You’ve been alone too long. You have no idea how strange the dating market has gotten. If you start dating, you’ll need someone to talk to and ask for advice. Also, we have to make sure you’re not catfished. Your style of dress will make people think you’re dripping in money. We need to weed out shallow partners. There is a lot of work to do before you start dating, Babu. I’ll help you do the interviews.”

    Tani chuckled at Hera’s enthusiasm. She called him Babu, (grandfather) because of his age and the fact that he watched her grow up.

    Hera was in her late twenties, and he had watched her born. She was definitely worthy of being his granddaughter.

    “I think the person who needs interviews for her dates is you,” Tani told her, as she opened the library door and led him in. “Where is Hakan? I have not seen him around.”

    “Hakan is no longer visiting our house, Babu.”

    Hera’s words sounded like a declaration. A decision she never wanted to change.

    Hakan was the father of her daughter, Deniz. Theirs was a relationship filled with difficulties. Hakan struggled with commitment, yet he loved both his daughter and Hera. Hakan was also the reason why Hera now lived with Tani. Hera’s father disapproved of Hakan for his daughter.

    Tani could not blame Hera’s father. Hakan needed to do better for Hera, and for Deniz.

    Tani stopped in the middle of the library and turned to look at Hera.

    “Is Hakan visiting Deniz? Calling her?” Tani asked, looking into Hera’s eyes to read the truth.

    “He is trying,” Hera said, giving a small shrug. “Hakan has found a job in Istanbul, working in a hotel. He sends money to buy Deniz little gifts. It is what it is. I’m not expecting him to move mountains. He will return to us when he is over whatever he feels right now.”

    “Hm,” Tani studied her, reading disappointment in Hakan in the depths of her eyes.

    She hoped Hakan would work at being a better father, a better family man. Perhaps, what she did not understand was that Hakan might not be able to give her those things.

    “When you’re ready to date, I’ll do the interviews,” Tani said, teasing her. “You’re too beautiful. We can’t have you being cat-fished.”

    Hera laughed then, the shadows disappearing, and he kissed her forehead.

    “You’re a funny one, Babu,” Hera said, hurrying to a reference computer in the corner of the room. “Have you ever noticed how fast dating begins? One moment you’re standing on your own. The next, you’re kissing a handsome stranger in a dark corner lost in lust and excitement. Soon after, you’re dating, and then navigating likes and dislikes, calling it a relationship. I sort of miss that feeling until Deniz calls out my name, and I remember why I have to keep my head.”

    Tani sank into a comfortable armchair and leaned his head back to stare at the painting on the ceiling. It was a depiction of the most famous landscape in the Ekho Realm. A floating island with waterfalls pouring down to a vast lake below the island. On the floating island stood a majestic citadel made with white sandstone hidden in a wild forest. The citadel’s domes were a beacon for those who would look for hope on the floating island. For Tani, the domes were a cruel reminder of a father who cast him out for loving a mortal.

    The paint on the mural on the ceiling looked fresh, redone.

    Tani frowned, gripping the arms of his chair tight.

    “Hera, has Cale visited this house?” Tani asked.

    “Oh, yes,” Hera said, getting up from the chair by the reference computer. “I try to ignore his visits here, but he about drove me crazy these past few weeks. Whistling away as he claimed to restore the mural on the ceiling. It was deafening in here. Don’t leave us with him again.”

    Tani sat up and looked around the library with his fox eyes. Searching for a clue as to why Cale would visit his sanctuary without telling him.

    Cale always left traces of himself. His aura was too strong, and hard to hide when he was in a good mood.

    Whistling as he restored a mural depicting his brother’s home…he would not have bothered to clean up his aura.

    “I found it,” Hera said, from the back of tall shelves. She came hurrying to his side carrying a book wrapped in Cale’s green aura.

    Tani felt a tight knot form in the depths of his stomach.

    Hera opened the book as she walked, displacing Cale’s aura, though it returned and clung to the book’s cover.

    “Oh, I was wrong,” Hera said. “The Turkish house is not Artor or Arter. It is Artri. It says here that Artri is an old name used by the family established in the eleventh century. This makes them the oldest among our families of power. Probably the most powerful of us. In nineteen twenty, the family changed its name to Arturo.”

    Tani stood fast and took the book from Hera. Hera pointed out the section with her index finger and grinned at him, as she leaned against him and continued to read.

    “The current head of Artri House is Christophe Arturo. He is a grandmaster. His daughter is Nora Arturo, and she brought to life, the current heir to Artri’s house, Dante Arturo,” Hera said, amusement coloring her words. “Christophe and Nora must be fans of Dante’s Inferno.”

    Tani clutched the large book compiling the names of powerful houses and their elements. Under fire, the Artri House stood alone. They too used a symbol to mark their house: an elderflower with two leaves.

    Tani frowned when he saw a note scrawled on the right-hand corner of the Artri House page. It read, ‘refer to Ekho bloodlines, Artri family origin tied to a pure Ekho.’

    Tani dropped into the armchair and stared at the note. It was an old insertion, the ink long dry, ages dry.

    “Babu?” Hera touched his left shoulder. “Are your knees finally giving up on you?”

    Tani stared at the note unable to answer her joke. He held the book open on his lap.

    “Cale,” he said with a soft sigh.

    Hera placed her hands at her waist.

    “Since you have decided to call him, I’m stepping out. I’ll check on Tom in his lab. Don’t fight in here,” Hera warned, turning to glare at Cale when he appeared behind her. “I arranged the books after your awful project last week. Do not ruin my work.”

    “You would miss me if I didn’t visit, sweet Hera,” Cale said in answer.

    Hera scowled at Cale and then walked out of the library, closing the door behind her.

    Tani picked up the book from his lap and threw it at Cale.

    Cale caught it with graceful motion and straightened the pages Hera had touched so that he could read them.

    “You’ve finally discovered our transgressions,” Cale said, with a quick grin. “It has taken you too long.”

    “What is he doing in a house that is Ekho-blessed?” Tani asked. “My beloved was a simple mortal. There has never been an ounce of our blood in him since I met him. His family has remained pure and human. What have you done?”

    “Don’t scowl at me,” Cale said, closing the book and placing it on the wooden stool near him. He dusted off his hands on a white handkerchief and unbuttoned his suit jacket to sit in the armchair opposite Tani.

    “Start talking,” Tani said.

    “I told you,” Cale said, sitting back and crossing his legs. “Your beloved has never lived past thirty-six years old. I think I’m not the only one who noticed. Someone with power has meddled, revealing a hidden house. It seems to me that the seventh matriarch of your beloved’s ancestors met a man from Artri House. The ninth reincarnation was spared from the power, but this tenth one…”

    “He is a bloodborne warlock,” Tani said, extending his right palm for Cale. “Dante burned me after you left and gave me a mark he will only remove if I meet him. He also senses my presence.”

    “To sense you means he is quite powerful,” Cale agreed. “Their kind can be vicious. You two might wrong each other if you’re not careful.”

    “I don’t understand how this could have happened.”

    “Only way to find out how it did happen is to get close to him,” Cale pointed out. “Why don’t you find him to heal your hand?”

    “No,” Tani shook his head. “It’s a burn I can endure. I told you I’m not going to step into his path. I will just make sure nothing happens to him from afar. We don’t have to meet.”

    Cale chuckled and stood up.

    “Tani, stop denying yourself some form of happiness. Meet him once,” Cale said. “He’s going to be in Istanbul soon. Do you notice that Artri House stands on the other side of your beloved island? Someone has worked hard to make it very convenient for you to meet your beloved and keep him. The only reason you haven’t met is your need to stay hidden in Diani.  I think you have no choice but to take a step toward him. If only to find out who has interfered.”

    Tani breathed out his frustrations, his frown deepening when Cale laughed in amusement and then left the library as he came.

    Alone, Tani touched the bandage on his right palm.

    Dante Arturo was married with kids.

    Tani truly could not interfere.

    Still, if there was a chance…

    “What kind of person am I if I approach him to break his family?” Tani asked the quiet library, his gaze on the powerful bloodlines book. “No better than Hakan who betrays Hera.”

    Tani closed his eyes disappointed by his urgent need to find Dante Arturo anyway.

    *~*~*~*~*

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  • A Thousand Years of Hope Ch 3-2

    A Thousand Years of Hope Ch 3-2

    Tani returned to Istanbul in a state of confusion. His right palm stung with the pain of a magik burn. He could not get the burn to heal with the salves he used usually or even the simple spells of his people. It was the first time he could not stop physical pain in his own body. His attention occupied, he ended up in the wetlands on the edge of the Elderwood Conservancy lands.

    His phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his coat pocket with his left hand. He swiped the screen to answer the call.

    “Yes,” Tani answered, doing his best to walk on the wetlands to dry stable land. His canvas shoes were soaked.

    “Where have you been? We’re all worried. You haven’t checked in,” Hera complained. She was his favorite ward. “Where are you, Babu? Do you want me to pick you up?”

    “No pickup,” Tani said, managing to step onto dry land. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

    He let out a sigh and stared at his injured palm with a frown. Shaking his right hand, he looked at the neat fence on the property boundary. Elderwood Conservancy was a property he nurtured with the help of extraordinary mortals like Hera and her parents, among others. The conservancy boasted a hundred and forty hectares of land, protected with support from the government and non-profit organizations, allowing wildlife to thrive on the property at will.

    The fences were to keep poachers out. The property joined the main Turkish Coast on a thin strip that allowed wildlife migration. This century was harder than others were. The Elderwood Conservancy was in a constant fight with developers, industrialists, and poachers in a bid to protect the conservation lands. Some days this property on Aretias seemed like the last true wilderness.

    Tani ignored the pain on his palm and focused on his teleport. This time he appeared under a large Elderwood tree growing at the back of the square fortress that housed the conservancy’s administration offices.

    The building was of old ottoman architecture and was considered a fortress with four towers. Tani commissioned it in the fifteenth century. It was a square building with three flours on each wing and a courtyard in the middle. At the time, the fortress housed any who needed sanctuary from constant war, and anyone running from persecution for being different.

    The four towers were used for defense, with a smaller tower at the entrance for control of who entered the fortress.

    In this relatively peaceful modern age, the tower at the entrance was redesigned into a modern structure and was now a reception hall for the administration wing of the conservation center. The front, east and west wings of the building were dedicated to the Elderwood Conservancy and its branches around the world. The back wing of the building served as a residential unit for the staff who worked for Elderwood.

    Tani hoped no one had seen him appear and turned his back on the fortress. He walked along a cobbled path to a house hidden by tall trees. His personal residence for the last six decades was much smaller than the fortress. It was built with red bricks. The three-story house was where he spent most of his time when he wanted to hide away as Cale put it.

    Tani lived with his uncle, who was his mother’s youngest brother.

    Uncle Amu had taken on a ward to help them run their house and growing assets. His name was Tom King. Tom’s family was Ekho-blessed. Their bloodline boasted a strong affinity to the earth. Tom had an extraordinary ability to heal damaged soil and encourage growth in plants. He and his family helped run Elderwood. Tom lived in the residential wing of the fortress and only stopped by for meals. Mostly, he stopped by to talk with Amu and Tani when they were home.

    As Uncle Amu took in a ward, so had Tani.

    In the last three decades, Tani spent most of his time on an island off the coast of East Africa. He only came home to visit his uncle or support Tom on difficult cases with the conservancy. His time in Diani was how he met his ward, Hera.

    Hera was of Swahili descent. Her bloodline had a very strong affinity to water. Tani relied on her to smooth his administrative responsibilities.

    She moved around with him, so he had given her a suite to stay on the second floor of his personal residence with her daughter. She was a great healer, and would definitely know what to do about his stinging palm, Tani decided.

    Tani opened the solid white oak front door. The scent of fresh-baked coffee cookies greeted him.

    “Babu?” Hera called from the kitchen when he closed the front door. “Is it you?”

    “Yes,” Tani said, heading in the direction of the kitchen.

    He walked down the main corridor, passing the open living room with its open terrace doors leading to the beach. He entered the kitchen and paused at the door at the sight of Hera at work.

    Hera was in a long colorful skirt and a sleeveless white shirt that framed her curvaceous body to perfection. She was only five foot two, but her vivacious personality made her seem six feet tall. The radio was on, and she was singing Turkish music, butchering the words with confidence and thorough enjoyment. Hearing her crazy singing made him smile.

    Her long braids shifted from side to side as she danced to the rhythm of the music.

    Tani watched her pull out a sheet pan of fresh coffee cookies, and turn around to place it on the counter with a wide satisfied smile. Her brown skin was warm in the afternoon sun.

    It was four in the afternoon here. Tani found the time difference interesting. Breakfast in Kirtland, Ohio, and afternoon tea on an island off the Turkish Coast.

    Hera looked up and clapped with her oven mitts when she saw him.

    “Babu! Here you are after weeks of disappearance,” Hera said, breaking into her beloved Swahili. She removed the mitts and hurried around the kitchen counter to reach him. “I’m going to ask Tom to place a tracker on you. So we can know where you are when you disappear.”

    Tani chuckled as she hugged him tightly. He wrapped his arms around her, forgetting his right palm. He grazed his burn on her blouse and hissed at the pain.

    Hera stepped back with a frown.

    “Why are you wincing?” she asked, looking him down from head to toe. “Why are your shoes wet? What’s happened to you?”

    Tani removed his shoes and kicked them to the side. He shrugged off his coat too and placed it on the worktable they used for everything. He let out a soft sigh of relief as the breeze from the open kitchen windows swept into the kitchen. His grey t-shirt billowed a little and he was happy for the cooling down. He extended his right palm for Hera to see.

    “I got burned,” Tani said. “Do something.”

    “Burned,” Hera took his right hand, and gaped at the sight of the angry red wound. “Wa, who managed to scar you like this? Is it Cale? What did you two do to each other this time? Come, sit down. You two should stop fighting like children. Uncle Amu will chastise you again.”

    “It wasn’t Cale,” Tani said, following Hera when she led him to a natural stone counter by the windows. She urged him to sit on a high stool and went around the counter. “I was burned by someone I thought was a mortal.”

    Tani sat on the stool, his right hand extended out for Hera’s thorough inspection. She studied the burn with a deep frown. Her long braids fell on each side of her round face. Her brown eyes looked up from his palm to his face, and then back to his palm. She touched the scarred skin with care, the tips of her fingers gentle, even as she shook her head in disbelief.

    “Tell me how a mortal burned your hand with firepower? You are Ekho. We, mortals, are never stronger than you are, even when we are Ekho-blessed. How is this possible?”

    “I’m very afraid he’s not a mortal,” Tani said, his gaze narrowed in thought. “I think he is a bloodborne warlock. Born into a family with a powerful bloodline, Hera. A bloodline similar to yours or even Tom’s family. It would have to be a very old family, one that has guarded its bloodline fiercely.”

    “Interesting,” Hera said, letting go of Tani’s hand. “Your theory means there is a powerful one in your father’s immortal clan who has been sexing up a mortal witch lover in the dark. How naughty.”

    Hera stepped away from the stone counter, studying the shelves on the wall behind her. She read the labels on small storage clay jars sitting on the shelf

    Hera reached for a small black clay jar at the back of the bottom shelf.

    Her long black braids shifted to one side on her back as she reached for a second jar on the second shelf. Tani caught a glimpse of a gold tattoo a sharp contrast to the brown skin on her left shoulder. The symbol was a compound elder leaf with three leaflets. It stood for her family and her dedication to the Elderwood Conservancy.

    Hera’s family protected and nurtured. Tani frowned as he watched Hera gather her herbs. Sometimes though, they missed the mark.

    “Your wound won’t heal with my herbs and spells,” Hera said in English this time, her accent heavy thanks to her Swahili heritage. “I can only soothe your pain away.”

    Hera made no effort to refine her English and preferred her beloved Swahili language. She spoke to Tani in English when she worried and hoped to emphasize the problem in English would make him understand the brevity of his circumstances. Otherwise, she made him speak her beloved Swahili.

    “Why?” Tani asked, studying the wound on his palm as Hera collected her tools.

    Hera returned to the stone counter holding a glass bowl, a small spatula, and a cup of cold water. She added the herbs from the two jars into the glass bowl. She added a teaspoon of water and got to work mixing the paste.

    Tani started to touch the wound on his palm, and Hera slapped his finger away. The gold beaded bracelet on her left wrist jingled. He noted the elder leaf symbol on one of the gold beads.

    “This mortal-maybe-bloodborne-warlock is petty,” Hera said, shaking her head, as she mixed her herbs into a paste. “Your wound will only get more painful. He is the only one who can heal you. He wants you to find him.”

    What had his beloved told him as he left?

    ‘I’m sure I’ve hurt you…somewhere. If you want it healed come down here…’

    “Ah…Very petty,” Tani agreed with a nod.

    Also typical of his beloved, he thought with a small smile.

    “This mortal hurts you, and you smile,” Hera said, annoyance in her voice. “I don’t understand you, Tani.”

    “You’re not alone,” Tani said, watching as Hera found a pack of cotton buds under the stone counter. She got to work cleaning his wound with water first. He complained and she chided him for being a crybaby.

    “Deniz is seven and she doesn’t complain like you when she’s getting her wounds cleaned,” Hera said.

    “You’re her mother. She’s scared she’ll make you cry too. I’m not. It hurts,” Tani said. He winced when Hera pressed the cotton bud she held too hard on his burn.

    “Distract yourself,” Hera said, shaking her head, and muttering under her breath about weak foxes. “It’s not going to get easier.”

    She picked up the little spatula and piled it with the herb paste. Tani groaned and turned away from her ministrations. He hated pain. His beloved was definitely cruel.

    “We have a book listing the families blessed with pure power in your library,” Hera said. “Baba thought it was important to track them, in case one turned to the dark side to feed Cale. We all agreed keeping these books in your domain was safest.”

    “Your Dad is very smart,” Tani said, gritting his teeth, as Hera applied her herb paste on his wound in a generous portion. “Do you know which of those families are affiliated with fire?”

    “Fire is rare. The more popular elements in these families are earth like Tom, water like me, and the wind ones, most of which you have met. There is one powerful house here in Turkey,” Hera said, her tone turning thoughtful. “They are called Arter or Artor. I can’t quite remember how to say their name. Your uncle added them. They do not associate with us and are secretive. It could be the house has died off. It happens sometimes. One generation has a quiet century. The next gains a powerful practitioner.”

    Tani felt a bandage press on his palm and he returned his gaze to Hera.

    Hera smoothed her fingers over the white bandage making sure it was secure. She met his gaze and grinned, switching back to Swahili.

    “You’re a crybaby. There is aloe vera in the paste. It will soothe the pain, and do its best to dry out the worst of the burn. Babu, you need to find this maybe-warlock. You should be careful. I don’t like his style at all,” Hera said, shaking her head in disapproval.

    “Would you like to help me find him?” Tani asked, getting up from the high stool.

    He curled his fingers on his right hand and grimaced at the numb pain. Shrugging his shoulders, he looked around the kitchen.

    “You don’t have anyone you’re cooking for at the moment. You’ll get bored waiting for Uncle and Tom. Deniz is off at school. You should help me.”

    “You don’t need to ask twice,” Hera said, winking at him. “Besides, having no visitors means we don’t have something strange going on in the world.”

    She put away her clay jars and washed the bowl and spatula in the sink.

    Hera came around the stone counter wiping her hands on a small towel. She dumped the small towel into a laundry bin next to the stone counter.

    “You’re right,” Tani said. “No visitor means no one is on the run or suffering or causing trouble. Let’s go to the library and find this Artor.”

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    Babu – means grandfather

    Baba – means Dad

  • A Thousand Years of Hope Ch 3-1

    A Thousand Years of Hope Ch 3-1

    Dante studied the tall sycamore tree on the edge of Viola’s property. It should have burned leaves and branches, but it did not. It was safe and looked…greener. The presence he felt on the tree had protected it from his fire spell. The unharmed tree was the only evidence he could use to verify the powerful aura that seeped into his house, forcing him outside in search.

    Shaking his head, he returned to the house, closing and locking the kitchen door. Normally, he would be worried about such a powerful being so close to this house. However, the unburnt sycamore tree made him feel secure. The entity did not mean any harm to his family.

    Dante rinsed his glass of water in the sink and placed it on a rack. Switching off the light, he stared at the sycamore tree through the picture window for a moment and then headed back to the study.

    It was four o’clock in the morning, and sleep was long gone for him. He sat behind the desk and opened a folder holding a new co-parenting agreement sent by his lawyers.

    Viola, his ex-girlfriend and the owner of this house, wanted to see him less and have him pay more upkeep for their two children, Zachary and April Arturo. Their separation long decided a year after April was born, nine years ago. He turned the agreement papers to the signing section to find that Viola had already signed her part with flourish. The confidence in her signature reassured him.

    Viola was happy with her new boyfriend of three years.

    Dante could not blame Viola for finally making a stand with him. It was his fault they were no longer together. Dante spent too much time at digs around the world, teaching, or staying at his family home in Turkey, to give Viola the stability of family she needed.

    Tired of Dante’s constant absence after April’s birth, Viola bought this house in the quiet suburbs of Kirtland, Ohio. She was a qualified Registered Nurse, so she found a job working in a nearby hospital, and created the stability their children needed without Dante.

    Their first co-parenting agreement was simple.

    Dante had the right to visit as he wished to see Zach and April. Their old agreement also included vague guidelines in terms of financial support. Dante simply made sure Viola received a part of his income for the children’s upkeep, and if she needed money for an emergency, he sent it.

    Now, Viola was thinking of the children’s future, as well as her own.

    Dante assumed Viola’s relationship with her current boyfriend was getting serious. She had asked Dante to visit so they could finalize a more formal co-parenting agreement. An agreement dealing with his scarce visits included a more comprehensive financial support plan.

    Glad he was more financially secure after nine years of hard work, Dante gave his lawyers access to the two irrevocable trust funds he created for Zach and April when he first started working. The trusts would help fund the children’s college education. His children were secure financially, but he could never boast of being a great father.

    As far as he could see, Viola’s current boyfriend was doing a better job with Zach and April than him.

    Dante picked up a pen and signed his part in the new agreement.

    With the new agreement, Dante would no longer have a right to walk into this house at will. He would need to call Viola and ask her to arrange a meeting with Zach and April. They were thirteen and ten, respectively, this year. When they each turned eighteen, they would have the choice to decide if they wanted to visit him at his family home.

    Taking in a deep breath, Dante sat back in his chair, staring at the now complete agreement. This process should have bothered him, but he felt nothing. This lack of reaction was probably why Viola kicked him out of her life.

    The signed co-parenting agreement was a perfect ending to a chapter he started without much thought or feeling. Shaking his head, he closed the folder and stood.

    It was time to move on from this disastrous decision.

    The mystery of the powerful entity on the sycamore tree needed resolving. This was not the first time he felt the powerful aura seeping into his personal space. It appeared three times before, once at the airport, once near his apartment in Istanbul and at the Elderwood Conservancy, which meant whatever it was, it had followed him to Viola’s house. There was also the mysterious warning from the family grimoire. Dante wondered if the powerful aura had something to do with the warning.

    He could only follow the matter when he was home.

    Upstairs, Dante entered Zach’s room, his steps very quiet, and stood watching his son sleep for a moment. The boy had taken many of Viola’s features. There was not much of him on Zachary. Dante stepped forward and brushed a lock of hair away from Zach’s forehead. He pressed a kiss on smooth skin. Zach slept on, undisturbed.

    Strange, but his children remained untouched by his bloodline’s gifts.

    Dante knew they needed a warm, secure home, instead of entering his paranormal world at Artri House on the Island of Aretias, off the Turkish Coast.

    “Zarardan korumak,” Dante murmured, a sliver of white dust falling from his fingers onto Zach’s chest, absorbing into his skin.

    The protection spell would keep Zack from danger and ill intentions. It would also alert Dante if the boy were ever in real danger.

    “I hope you understand me when you’re older,” Dante murmured into Zach’s ear, brushing his lips on the boy’s light hair.

    Pulling the covers higher on Zach’s shoulders, Dante got up and left the boy’s room in silence.

    He entered April’s room; he bit back a sigh when he heard her sharp intake of air. She was awake, lying still, pretending to be asleep. His daughter always saw and heard too much. A small lamp on her left bedside table was the only source of light.

    Dante approached the bed and perched on the right side, arranging the messy covers around her. Her mink-black hair matched his. She was on a quest to grow it long. She tried her best to escape trimming but Viola was a persistent woman. At the start of summer, Viola got April into a salon that chopped her tresses to her shoulders.

    April cried for a week at the loss.

    Dante touched the beautiful, neat shoulder-length dark hair.

    “April, you’re a beautiful girl,” Dante said, his voice low to keep from waking Viola and Zach. “Don’t ever doubt it. Your mamma loves you more than anything else in the world. She tries her hardest to make sure you look and have the best. She only wants you happy. Don’t be hard on her. I’m sorry for not being the father you need.”

    April remained under the covers, not moving or reacting to his words.

    Dante stroked her hair and murmured his protection spell, adding on a little bit of magic to let her hair grow faster, even when it was trimmed. He moved his hand away and April pushed back the covers, turning to him with panic in her eyes.

    “Dad,” April said, her voice shaking, her eyes filled with tears.

    Dante smiled at her.

    “Why are you awake at this hour?” he asked, pressing his palm to her soft cheek.

    Dante brushed away a tear with his thumb and looked into brown eyes that matched his own. April took most after him. She gave him no doubt that she was his daughter. It was sad she had not inherited his gifts. Then again, in the distant future, April would one day get a child. Her child may inherit his gifts.

    Dante would need to make sure his mother prepared for such a happening, just as his grandfather did for him.

    “You’re leaving us,” April said.

    Dante stared at her for a moment and then nodded.

    “I have to return to my home.”

    “Why?” April asked. “Can’t you take us with you?”

    “I can’t,” Dante said. “School will start soon, and your mamma needs you here.”

    “Why can’t you stay?” April asked. “Dad, why do you have to leave us? Why can’t you stay with mamma? What if we never see you again?”

    Dante bit his bottom lip wondering how to answer her questions without hurting her.

    “I can’t stay because I’m not the right partner for your mamma,” Dante said. “She’s found someone who is good to her, and to you and Zach. I can promise to visit you in the summer or during the holidays. You will see me again, April.”

    “Can we visit you?” April asked, her gaze hopeful.

    “Yes, when your mother allows it,” Dante said with a nod. “You are welcome in my home, April.”

    April studied him with bright brown eyes, a frown creasing her forehead, so he held her gaze until she relaxed in her bed.

    “Can I call you?” April asked.

    “Yes, as often as you want,” Dante said. “If I don’t answer, I’ll call you back. Okay?”

    April gave him a quick smile.

    “Make sure you send me postcards. Zach doesn’t care about those, but I want some. I like collecting them.”

    Dante nodded.

    “Alright, I promise to send postcards.”

    April reached for his hand and held it tight.

    “Can you stay until I fall asleep again?” she asked, this time her voice small, uncertain.

    Dante leaned in to kiss her forehead. He arranged the covers around her shoulders with his free hand.

    “I’ll sing you a song,” Dante said, and she smiled.

    April held onto his hand as he hummed an old lullaby taught to him by his grandmother. The words forgotten, but the tune remained. April closed her eyes, and as Dante watched, she slipped into a deep sleep. She would wake up in the morning refreshed and ready to start another day.

    Dante caressed her cheek, added to his protective spell, and let go of her hand.

    Dante stepped out of April’s room and hurried to his own. His suitcase was already packed. He took a shower and dressed for his trip home. At five-thirty in the morning, he went downstairs. He found Viola making coffee in the kitchen. She was dressed in blue scrubs, ready for her shift at the hospital.

    “Thank you,” Viola said, handing him a mug of coffee. “For signing the agreement without fuss, and the trusts for the kids.”

    Dante sipped the coffee once and held on to the mug.

    Viola liked making coffee, but she never realized he hated the drink. He preferred brewed tea.

    “Are you heading to Istanbul?” Viola asked.

    “Hm,” Dante said, placing the mug on the sink counter.

    He went to the fridge and found a bottle of water. Cracking the seal, he drank half the water, as he watched Viola pack up lunch for the kids. She stole glances at him through the process.

    Dante leaned on the counter next to the refrigerator and searched for what to say to her.

    “I’m not mad at you anymore,” Viola said, saving him from starting a conversation. She zipped up the second lunch box and placed both on the kitchen table. “There was a time I looked at you and I wanted to scream at you, but that feeling is gone. You’re quite frustrating, Dante.”

    “I’m sorry,” Dante said, capping the bottle of water. He stared at the white tiles on the floor, and then at his neat brown loafers.

    The one person he had wronged in this world was Viola. There was a time his relationship with her was too strained at best. At its worst, they could not stand in the same compound, no matter how many hectares one added. His fault, Dante acknowledged with an open heart.

    He met Viola during his rebellion period. They were both at university in New York. He was twenty-two, working on his master’s degree in archeology, and training under an unforgiving Arturo Grandmaster’s guidance. He met Viola on a trip to Italy, to see the ancient buildings and excavations. She was twenty-one, wild and happy.

    Viola talked with passion in every pore. Dante chose to sink into her zest for life, for a time, in order to cope with the pressures of his life. He allowed Viola to fall in love with him while he felt nothing for her. He let her live the dream of becoming his wife. A dream he knew he could never fulfill for her.

    Viola was beautiful, passionate, and driven, yet she did not move his heart. She could not touch his heart, no matter how many times she professed her love. For some reason, his heart remained frozen cold, untouched. He could not explain it any other way.

    They tried to stay together after Zachary was born, renting an apartment in New York together. They lived in that two-bedroom apartment until April was born. Dante was rarely home for Viola and the children. He went off on digs on a quest he dared not explain to Viola.

    Soon, the great collapse of the illusion he wove for Viola began. Viola’s tolerance of him ended, and the hollow love holding their unregistered family together dissipated, and vanished. Viola moved out of New York. Dante moved back to the family home in Turkey.

    His betrayal broke Viola and she would not forgive him for a long time. He once offered to take their children, but she slapped him for the suggestion, insisting on taking care of her children on her own.

    “Sorry does not fix anything,” Viola said in answer to his apology, her voice steady and strong. “You’ve said sorry to me more times than I care to count. We’re finally in a place we can have a conversation. Don’t ruin the balance by repeating a useless phrase. Dante, I don’t know what makes your heart so cold. My children and I could not warm it, no matter how much we tried. I hope you find something to break the ice in you open. Maybe it will turn you into a decent man.”

    “You think I’m not decent?” Dante asked, lifting his head to look at Viola.

    She stood in the middle of the kitchen. Her hands were at her waist, staring at him with pity in her eyes. Her shoulder-length blonde hair was held in a tight ponytail. A mask rested at her neck, a habit born of having to wear a mask constantly these past two years, and her job making it mandatory.

    Viola sighed and shook her head.

    “It’s shocking but after all these years of knowing you, I feel like I don’t know much about you, Dante. You’re no father, not a husband, or even a lover. You don’t fit words like decent, kind, understanding, or even loving. I sincerely cannot use these words to describe you.”

    Dante absorbed her tirade, already used to the bursts of frustration from Viola. It seemed he made her feel angry on sight.

    “What words would you use for me?” Dante asked, curious.

    “One word, Dante. Cold,” Viola said without hesitation. “You are locked away behind a cold wall where no one can reach you. Not even my sweet April is able to break in. It’s a tragedy. I’m sorry we could not save you.”

    Dante nodded and dumped his half-drunk bottle into the trashcan under the chopping counter. He straightened up and adjusted his blue suit jacket, buttoning it over his white dress shirt.

    “If I stand here longer, we’ll descend to insults. We’ve said all we can say to each other,” Dante said. “You have my numbers and those of my lawyers. If you need anything, call or message me. I’ll leave you to your warm house. April mentioned wanting to visit me at Artri House. If she ever asks, give her permission, Viola.”

    “Will your mother mistreat her the way she did me when I met her in New York?” Viola asked. “Like an outsider who does not belong.”

    “April is my daughter,” Dante said. “She will always belong to Artri House. Give her permission when she’s ready to visit. My mother will welcome her with open arms.”

    Viola stared at him in shock.

    Dante gave her a farewell nod, then turned and left the kitchen. He got his luggage from where he left it by the stairs. Giving the second floor where his children slept, one last glance, he turned and left a house he no longer had the right to visit at will. He got into his rented car and drove to the airport eager to return home.

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  • A Thousand Years of Hope Ch 2-2

    A Thousand Years of Hope Ch 2-2

    Now, in the mid-year of twenty twenty-one, Tani could no longer boast like a fledgling. His heart was already torn to pieces, numbed and stabbed by his beloved’s consistent choice. A choice, which never included him.

    Tani could no longer boast to Cale, who watched his defeat materialize with each century past.

    The family living in the two-story house meant his beloved had, once again, chosen another soul instead of him. At the end of his thousand years in this mortal world, he now knew how silly he must have looked to his father hundreds of years ago. Love was not enough to make a life together, nor was it enough to convince his beloved to choose him.

    Tani had lost, thoroughly.

    His sentence awaited him back home in the Ekho Realm.

    It was time to give up on the mortal realm.

    At what point did love turn to hate? And, why did his heart never hate his beloved?

    “You are facing the last chance in your thousand-year calamity, Tani,” Cale said, his voice low, free of contempt and teasing. “I know you’re weary. I would be too after all the years you’ve pursued him. Your beloved mortal is thirty-five years old. I’m surprised you waited so long to find him.”

    Tani shrugged. The reason he waited…or hesitated to find his beloved was that he was tired. No longer confident in his love and his choice to bind his heart to the mortal.

    He just wanted the trial to end.

    Tani took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. The warm night air made him wish for the cold of winter. At least then, the weather suited his mood.

    “What happens if I decide not to meet him?” Tani asked.

    “Nothing. Live out the century until its end,” Cale said, his tone matter of fact. “Your beloved will die in his chosen life. You will have no right to enter the human realm ever again. A fact, which hurts you because I know the life you’ve built in this realm. The punishment of not returning here will devastate you. Are you willing to ignore that you need him desperately?”

    Tani closed his eyes. Sorrow filled him, and Cale sighed with pleasure next to him. It was expected. At this point, Cale would be his only companion in the years to come. There was no need to push him away.

    The thought of never seeing his beloved’s face again filled him with acute sadness.

    In a cruel twist of fate, his many centuries in the human realm managed to give him a community of souls he did not want to forget or leave behind. He had created a home he cared for, a world he nurtured. All of it lost to him if he could not get his beloved to choose him.

    “Your pain is the best kind,” Cale said, stretching his arms over his head with a pleased smile. “Fine, delicious pain, old and refined, it’s like nothing I’ve ever fed on. It’s hard to give up. I ask you, Tani. If you don’t complete your part of this trial this time, the past nine hundred years will have been a waste. Is this the outcome you hoped for?”

    Tani opened his eyes to stare at the two-story house.

    A light turned on downstairs, the picture windows showing off a neat open kitchen. A tall man walked deeper into the room, sending Tani’s heartbeat racing in his chest. His eyes feasted on the toned body dressed in a plain white t-shirt and old pajama bottoms. The urge to cross the backyard to the kitchen windows was strong. Tani ground his teeth and reminded his stupid heart that the man in the kitchen had already made the choice of love before they met.

    Unable to look anymore, Tani started to turn away, but Cale’s next words stopped him.

    “He dies in a year, you know,” Cale said.

    “What do you mean?” Tani asked, looking at Cale in shock.

    “You always ran away after he made the choice to marry and live with his mortal mate,” Cale said. “You hide in the conservancy network you have built. Waiting for the next century, hoping he chooses you the next time. In the last cycle you got very close, so it broke you harder when he chose the woman, Violet. You never bothered to discover how long they stayed happy.”

    “He has chosen her again this time,” Tani said, hating the anger coloring his voice. It was never easy to watch the man he loved with someone else. “She is the opposite of everything I stand for. She gives him children, a legacy, then and now. What is the point of interfering? Death is part of mortal life, Cale. I might not come to look for him before he dies, but I do make sure the children he leaves behind are looked after, as he once asked of me. They lack for nothing.”

    “Yes, you take care of the descendants. It’s admirable,” Cale said. “However, you have never known why he dies. You have refused to notice that it is a common occurrence. Never once changing in the past nine centuries. In every reincarnation, he has never lived beyond thirty-six. I never understood why and wondered if you noticed. Then again, you used to rush to meet him early, and by twenty-five, he rejects you so thoroughly you run off. Within five years, he makes his choice and while living his chosen life, you leave to nurse a broken heart. Each time he lives with this woman, he only makes it to thirty-six years old. The century ends and the reincarnation restarts.”

    Tani’s gaze returned to the man drinking water from a glass in the kitchen.

    “Why did you never mention it?” Tani asked.

    “You never want to know what becomes of him after he leaves you,” Cale said. “Tani, you’re as petty as your fox mother. She has refused to see your father until this day. You both take rejection too personally. Perhaps, the reason why your beloved never chooses you is that you abandon him too.”

    “That’s not fair,” Tani said, shaking his head.

    “What if his soul disappears after this century?” Cale asked. “What if your calamity has given him the chance to reincarnate when his soul wishes to move on to something else?”

    “Don’t joke around,” Tani said.

    “I’m not,” Cale said. “I’m pointing out a variable you have refused to notice. He is mortal. I can’t interfere with the rules of his world, his choices. Maybe you rushed it before and missed a crucial clue. Approach him, Tani. He might surprise you and choose you this time. He is an archeologist. His work tells me he looks for you in his own way. I think he will make an interesting encounter. There’s something about him…”

    “You are trying to get me to meet him,” Tani scowled. “Cale, he has chosen Violet in this life. Her name might be different now, but I recognize her from earlier centuries. They have two children. The choice is done. There is no hope for us.”

    “Perhaps,” Cale said, then gave Tani a startling smile. “Perhaps not. You have a year to meet him and discover why he dies at thirty-six.”

    Tani started to respond, but Cale chose to disappear as fast as he appeared earlier. Tani returned his attention to the man in the kitchen.

    His beloved stood tall, always filled with confidence. Tani knew if he got closer, he would look into piercing, expressive brown eyes that saw into his soul. Best of all, his fox eyes loved the gold mist aura surrounding him. If Tani got closer, the scent of jasmine coming off the mist would fill his nostrils. Intoxicating, it called to him, forcing him to reach for his beloved with his entire heart.

    With each century gone, it had become harder to exist without the scent of jasmine or seeing the gold mist surrounding his beloved. Tani always felt ripped apart when his beloved walked away from him. It took everything to feel complete again.

    Tani sighed and pulled his hands out of his pocket. He started to teleport and leave, but then he paused when the kitchen door opened.

    His beloved came out, his gaze intent on the tall tree where Tani stood.

    “What are you?”

    The question startled Tani.

    Tani froze on the thick tree branch, staring at the man watching him. He did not speak, afraid he was misreading the situation. There was no way the mortal could see him. Tani was using an illusion to hide his presence on the tree.

    “You follow me. I can’t see you, but I can feel you. I felt you in Istanbul at the airport. This is the third time this month. You’re strong, whatever you are.” His beloved spoke in a cajoling tone. “Why do you watch me?”

    Tani held still, afraid if he moved his beloved would see him, discover him.

    Then, he scoffed at the thought. Silly, you can always leave without him noticing. He started to complete his teleport.

    “Kendini göste,” his beloved said.

    A large wave of heat rushed toward the tree. Shocked by the intense power, Tani stopped his exit. Years of devotion to conserving forests had him bringing his right hand up to absorb the damaging wave of heat. The impact of the heat spell was damaging, the fire singed his palm and coat sleeve. It took Tani considerable effort to reverse the damage. The effort he could not waste on healing his palm, so he got burned.

    His beloved’s spell was simple enough. It held an order for Tani to reveal his true form or die, a warning. The force behind the order, hot enough to singe Tani’s palm, spoke of power: Bloodborn warlock power.

    Tani stared at his beloved, who still stood in the garden studying the untouched tree, in surprise. Shock filled Tani because he could never have imagined his beloved would be Ekho-blessed.

    When had a Bloodborn warlock joined his beloved’s bloodline?

    It looked like Cale had a point, for once.

    Tani had missed something.

    “This is new,” Tani murmured, looking at his stinging red palm.

    “I’m sure I’ve hurt you…somewhere. If you want your burn healed, come down here,” his beloved said with a satisfied chuckle.

    “How dare you,” Tani said, then turned and returned to his domain without giving his beloved the satisfaction.

    Tani needed to meet his uncle before he met Dante Arturo face-to-face. He needed to understand how his beloved would end up a bloodborne warlock.

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  • A Thousand Years of Hope Ch 2-1

    A Thousand Years of Hope Ch 2-1

    It was a warm midsummer night. Scents of roses and jasmine in bloom warred in the small vibrant flower garden. Crickets sang in the night, and the sound of water flowing in the brook at the edge of the property added to the music. Standing on the tallest tree, Tani Ryuzo watched a two-story house built in the middle of the property, a complicated mood settling on him.

    He supposed the house represented the perfect American dream: a husband, wife, two children, and a white picket fence in the front yard. The woman worked at the local hospital as a nurse. A school bus picked up the two children every morning and took them to school. She hosted sleepover parties for the children on the street often. It was the perfect life in the small suburban city of Kirtland, Ohio.

    Tani scoffed and wondered what he should do now.

    A breeze ruffled the leaves around him, Tani reached up to touch the branch caressing his cheek to offer him comfort. His feelings for the occupants of the house left him with a bitter taste in his mouth. The bitter taste was tied to nine devastating choices in nine centuries. There was no hope left. The branch slid away and he sighed.

    Tani wondered why he would feel disappointed at this point.

    His beloved had truly gone ahead of himself. In their very last chance, the man had gone ahead and decided to make a family before they even met.

    Tani should not feel disappointed or betrayed.

    After all, in the last nine reincarnations, this tenacious soul always chose the perfect family over him.

    Still…

    Tani had hoped this last one would choose him. He gave an internal scoff. Foolish thinking. It was impossible now. The family was made. Commitments and promises forged. Tani could no longer interfere for the sake of the little ones. He was no family breaker.

    “Quite a beautiful home, isn’t it?” a soft voice commented behind him. “One might believe this two-story house represents a happy home.”

    “You come to take pleasure in watching the end of my calamity,” Tani said, pushing his long dark coat back. He sunk his hands into his dark trouser pockets and kept his gaze on the two-story house.

    “Don’t sound so unhappy. I find the ends quite depressing. I know you don’t believe me when I say it. Tani, don’t you think it is a tragedy to see such a perfect family come to an end?”

    “I wonder if you understand what tragedy means, Cale. In your perspective, tragedy is a word you say, but do not know what it truly means. They are a happy family. No end is coming to them. I have made my decision. I will not meet him this cycle.”

    Cale solidified next to Tani, wrapping an arm around Tani’s tense shoulders.

    Tani stayed still, refusing to show any reaction to Cale’s presence. Fear fed Cale. Made him stronger, and more callous. Cale sniffed Tani’s neck, touching his left ear with a finger, his fingers then sweeping into Tani’s red-brown hair. The long fingers tugged on curly strands, and Tani closed his eyes, working to control his irritation.

    Cale leaned into him and whispered into his left ear.

    “Sweet Tani, I’m so grateful for you. Your pain has fed me for centuries. The last cycle you had with the mortal left you lost in a sea of pain for a hundred years. I wonder how long this cycle will take. Or…wait—”

    Cale broke off and shifted away, dropping his arm from Tani’s shoulders. He made a show of counting on his fingers and then widened his dark, dark eyes. Tani dragged his gaze away from the quiet house to look at Cale. He shuddered when Cale smiled, the sinister curve of Cale’s lips sent shivers down Tani’s spine.

    Cale was painfully handsome. His face was designed to seduce and fool unsuspecting souls into believing he was a benevolent god. The god of calamities adapted to time better than his peers. He was always dressed in neat tailor-made suits and shirts. Tonight, he was in a grey suit and a white shirt open at the collar. He looked like a gentleman but was a man who controlled and thrived in the chaos of darkness, pain, tragedy, and what all souls called calamities.

    Cale was the most sinister of gods from the hidden world known only as the Ekho.

    “You look at me with such accusing eyes, little fox,” Cale said, with a shrug. “You’re still young, Tani Ryuzo. compared to my millenniums in these realms, your three thousand and one hundred years are a drop in the ocean. You know so little.”

    “Thanks to the thousand years of calamity you bestowed upon me I have aged to ancient status, Cale,” Tani said, looking away from unsettling black eyes.

    His heart always felt frozen when he looked into Cale’s dark eyes.

    Although, there were times he needed Cale’s dark eyes to numb his heart.

    “You know nothing about me.”

    “On the contrary,” Cale said, his tone filled with amusement. “I know pain molds a soul. Your pain has molded your soul, and his, and the journey you have both walked has kept me quite entertained. Your pain has changed you, as it has him. You are living your last century of calamity, Tani Ryuzo. If he makes the same choice he made the last nine, your place in this mortal realm shall cease to exist. Your fate will be tied to the Ekho Realm and you shall never return to the human realm.”

    “It makes you happy to repeat the sentence my father’s peers gave me for loving a mortal,” Tani noted.

    “It does,” Cale said with a smile. “The eternal sadness you feel will allow me to remain in our Ekho Realm with no need to reap calamities in this realm. I hope you fail the mission the Septum gave you.”

    Tani took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. There was no need to get angry with Cale. It only made Cale happy.

    Tani could not cry either. The tears were long gone. There was nothing left inside him.

    It was true that Cale was not the only one waiting to watch him fail.

    Tani was a visitor in the human realm, just like Cale.

    Tani was a deviant Ekho, born of a fox clan mother and an immortal clan father. He was considered deviant because he dared to fall in love with a mortal a thousand years ago. In the eleventh century, he fell in love with a handsome mortal soul, and with careless delight, bound his soul to the mortal to the mortification of his entire race.

    Mortal lives remained fleeting. An Ekho’s life was too long. The Ekho Realm forbade bound love between an Ekho and a mortal. Tani broke the taboo when he bound his soul to the mortal man he loved.

    In a bid to return him to the Ekho Realm, Tani’s father, and the council named the Septum—which governed Ekho—dragged him home for a trial. The Septum did their best to get him to unbind his soul from the mortal man.

    Loyal to his beloved, Tani refused to yield his love, and instead begged the Septum for a fair judgment. His lineage saved him. The Septum ruled that he, Tani Ryuzo, would live under a one-thousand-year calamity monitored in person by Cale, the god of calamities.

    Tani would stay in the mortal realm, and live life among the mortals. His beloved would live a life of reincarnation through the one thousand years. His soul returned through the centuries in different families.

    The only way to escape the calamity was if Tani’s beloved mortal chose to bind his soul to Tani. His beloved’s choice would prove Tani’s love true, and lift the weight of his one-thousand-year calamity, restoring Tani’s freedom.

    At the start of his thousand-year calamity trial, Tani boasted with confidence to his father’s Septum that he would win his mortal’s love within the first century. He begged for a second reward. The right to be allowed to love the mortal bound to him unstopped by his people, or any other soul, including Cale, for the rest of his life.

    The Septum agreed but added to his punishment should he fail. If Tani failed to gain the mortal’s unconditional love, he was to give up the right to visit the human realm forever.

    At the start, Tani was sure he could convince the mortal man bound to his soul to choose him, to love him, to make a life with him. He never once remembered to account for his beloved’s free will.

    Nine hundred years later, each century past, a different yet similar reincarnation of his beloved stumbled onto Tani’s path. Each time, each one made a choice to love, but never with Tani. Never.

    Tani watched his beloved choose to bind himself to another mortal soul, another woman, or man in some centuries.

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  • A Thousand Years of Hope

    A Thousand Years of Hope book cover

    Title: A Thousand Years of Hope
    Status: Complete
    Chapters:
    Category: Fantasy
    Tags: MMRomanceFantasy, Warlock, Ekho, MMromance, Modern Times, Paranormal
    Description:
    Dante Arturo is a bloodborne warlock, his power born of fire.  He has one problem.  He has never fallen in love and has decided he does not have the luck to fall in love.  Until he meets Tani Ryuzo.  A powerful being who makes him wish for a thousand years of love.  But Tani is ready to give up on love, after all, he has waited a thousand years for his beloved and only gotten betrayal in return.

    Please note: This is fantasy fiction, and is in the mmromance genre. A boy meets boy world.

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  • A Thousand Years of Hope Ch 1-3

    A Thousand Years of Hope Ch 1-3

    Dante followed his navigator to find the Elderwood Conservancy. It was strange how he had grown up on this island and never known a conservancy existed there. An understated green gate stood as the only deterrent to entering the dirt path leading to the property. Dante started to put his car in park so he could enter, but a guard appeared from the small office near the gate. He opened the gate with a nod, not asking Dante any questions.

    Dante frowned and thanked the man as he drove down the straight dirt road. Five minutes later, he found two roads branching on different sides. The one on the right side had thicker bushes and looked less used. The road on the left had a single sign saying ‘main office’. Dante turned his black SUV toward the main office.

    Ten minutes later, he sat staring at the building housing the conservancy in pleasant surprise. It was a fortress, complete with four towers and a courtyard. Fifteenth century, ottoman architecture, Dante grinned. The walls looked well-maintained. The guardians of the Elderwood Conservancy took their job seriously. The only blight on the authentic building was the front entrance. It was very modern, with glass walls showing off a reception hall.

    Dante reached for the bag holding his soil samples and came out of the car. He hurried to the entrance eager to see what the inside looked like. Dante entered, heading to the receptionist’s desk. She smiled in welcome, but before he could reach her, a man who looked in his late twenties came into the reception hall from a corridor beyond.

    “Welcome to Elderwood. I’m Tom King.”

    “Dante Arturo.”

    “We rarely get visitors who aren’t planned,” Tom said. “The gatekeeper alerted us that you were on your way. How may I help you?”

    Dante held up the bag with his sample soils.

    “Mr. King, I’m here to request assistance. Our vineyard on the other side of the island is facing an invasion of corrupted soil. We cannot find the cause. Professor Roberto heard about our dilemma and sent me to your conservancy,” Dante said. “He says you have researchers who test soil on the island.”

    “Yes, we do,” Tom said, his interest growing. “Are you saying you have a vineyard here in Aretias?”

    “Yes, Arturo Vineyards. They are a family enterprise,” Dante said with a proud smile. “My mother looks after them. I’m a World History professor based in Istanbul. I met Professor Roberto at Koc University. He referred me to your organization.”

    “Roberto is a good man,” Tom said. “He is a longtime friend of Elderwood. Yesterday, he gave me a call and told me a desperate colleague of his would stop by. He never told me your name. We would have been more ready. This is very interesting,” Tom pointed to the bag Dante was holding. “May I take this from you?”

    “Yes.” Dante handed Tom the bag with the soil samples. “How long will it take to discover what is wrong with the soil?”

    “I can only tell you once our lab technician gets a good look,” Tom said. “We should have an answer for you by tomorrow morning.”

    Dante reached for his wallet and found his card. He handed it to Tom.

    “You can call me at any time,” Dante said. “Our vineyard is eager to solve the problem. The rot is growing in our olive grove and we’re worried it will find its way to the vines. The loss would be unimaginable. I would also like to know if it is reversible. I do not want to lose our old olive trees.”

    “We’ll help however we can,” Tom said.

    Dante nodded and looked to the corridor beyond the receptionist, trying to catch a glimpse of the interior of the main fortress building.

    “Uh,” Dante started. “Would it be possible to step into the courtyard? I mean—would it be okay to see the fortress? Am I being rude?”

    Tom chuckled.

    “Don’t worry. You’re not the first to ask. I’m sorry I can’t let you go in though. The entrances into the courtyard are under construction,” Tom said. “It is a necessary effort. The building is very old and you’ve come when we’re undertaking serious restoration efforts.”

    “Wow, I would love to be part of such a project,” Dante said, excited by the prospect. “I have students who would love a visit to this place. Is it possible to arrange a tour, even during the restoration process? I think it would be educational.”

    “We have never thought of doing it, but I’m sure it is possible. I would have to make arrangements with the conservancy’s staff,” Tom said. “I’ll talk it over with everyone here and let you know what we decide when I call about the soil samples.”

    “Perfect,” Dante said. “I can’t believe I’m only discovering this place now.”

    “We are found at the right time,” Tom replied.

    What a strange way to word it, Dante thought. His phone beeped and he reached for it, finding a message from his overworked TA.

    “I’m running late for a lecture. I have to go,” Dante said with a sigh. “Mr. King, I’m really interested in a tour of your fortress. I hope your response is positive. Thank you again for agreeing to check on our soil samples. The vineyard will handle the invoices if you sent them to us. The email address is on the card I’ve given you.”

    “I’ll make sure to give you a call tomorrow,” Tom said.

    Dante thanked Tom again and left the building, rushing to his car. He opened the driver’s door and stopped when he felt a stifling force in the woods closest to the building. He turned and looked at the forest with a frown. The powerful force retreated and he let out a soft sigh, feeling relieved. He saw nothing in the woods, no person standing in the shadows. He frowned. Maybe he was imagining things. Shaking his head, he got in his car and drove out of the conservancy.

    *~*~*~*

    “Babu, Dante has been at the conservancy,” Tom reported, staring at the bag filled with soil sample containers.

    “What does he want?”

    “A soil analysis,” Tom said. “He says his family has a vineyard on our island Aretias. It is called Arturo Vineyards. I can’t believe he was so close to us. I’ve not heard of them.”

    “He is very close…”

    Tom waited, as his boss’s voice trailed off in thought.

    “It feels like there is something I have not accounted for. Start the analysis right away. Do it yourself, Tom. Let me know what the report says when you finish.”

    “I’ll get it done,” Tom said. “Also, he wants a tour of the fortress. I’m guessing it’s the archeologist in him making the request. He wants to bring a few students with him.”

    “He has a lot of wants. Uncle Amu will have more to say about the tour. I don’t care.”

    “Amu Ryuzo has long left you to run us all,” Tom said.

    “He has?” A lazy sigh. “I suppose he has. Then, Tom, it’s up to you. You decide.”

    The call ended.

    Tom was left standing in the reception hall staring at the black bag from Dante Arturo filled with soil samples. It felt like the start of another great strife was imminent.

    *~*~*~*

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  • A Thousand Years of Hope Ch 1-2

    “I’ve found him,” Tom King reported to his boss, his gaze on the pictures of a handsome Turkish man walking into Koç University in Istanbul. “He is an archeologist, who teaches ancient world history at the university.”

    “I don’t need to know his career. What is his name? Where does he live?”

    “His name is Dante Arturo. I apologize. We are still trying to work out his family’s history. We’re only able to find his professional credentials. His primary address is an apartment close to the university. However, he does visit the United States often.”

    “Why?”

    Tom paused, sifting through the documents on his desk.

    “Our investigator has pictures of a modest house in a suburban area. Uh, the address listed is in Kirtland, Ohio. I’ll forward it to you.”

    “Thank you, Tom.”

    “When are you returning home?” Tom asked. “Hera has asked about you. You have not called in for a month. Hera worries so does your uncle.”

    “I’m…I’m trying to make a decision. Forward me his picture and his address in Istanbul. Thank you, Tom.”

    “You’re welcome, Babu.”

    *~*~*~*

    “What a morning,” Nora said, shaking her head, as she read the heavy book standing open on a large desk in their basement. “We find corrupt soil in the olive grove, and the house opens the grimoire to a warning. We’re having a sinister day. Are you sure you should fly out today?”

    “Don’t be so pessimistic,” Dante said, moving to stand next to his mother.

    He brushed a kiss on her cheek and brought his attention to the warning she was reading.

    “The Artri heir’s betrayal of Ryuzo wins Ryuzo a lifetime of hardship and pain. The right choice shall break the cycle,” Dante read the warning aloud. “This symbol, a compound elder leaf with five leaflets, is familiar. The Grandmaster made me memorize the list of families with power. I have seen it with two families like ours. Their symbols are usually a compound elder leaf with three or two leaflets, not five. The warning continues, ‘Pass this warning down generations. There are only two left. If we skip one, the second one must make the right choice.’ End of warning.”

    Dante traced a finger over the old blue silk fabric holding the words embroidered in white. It was sewn into the grimoire for safekeeping. Dante had never seen the silk page in the grimoire before. Then again, this was usual of spells hidden by very powerful family members.

    “The use of the name Artri meant the person who gave the warning existed in the early nineteenth century,” Nora said. “Our ancestors used Artri as a last name then. It was the sole reason why the family home is named Artri. We changed to Arturo in the early nineteen twenties.”

    “I’m not married,” Dante said, meeting Nora’s gaze. “I have children, yes, but Zach has no power. How is this warning for me?”

    “The warning is for me,” Nora said. “You’re my first-born son. The one with the power. Your choice is what is supposed to be the right one.”

    “Right choice for what?” Dante asked. “Who is this Ryuzo who faces a lifetime of hardship?”

    “I don’t know,” Nora said, her tone thoughtful. “However, if a warning has appeared in our Artri grimoire, it means you will meet him soon. What is of interest, Dante, is the type of choice that makes this warning relevant. Enough for our house to shake and tremble to let you know this choice is important.”

    Dante frowned, tracing the first part of the warning with his index finger.

    “Artri heir’s betrayal of Ryuzo,” Dante read. “Seems my past has hurt someone, enough for it to be considered a betrayal. The only person I have betrayed is Viola, Mom. I could not give her the love she gave me.”

    “I know,” Nora said, letting out a soft sigh. “We’ll figure it out.”

    Dante’s phone buzzed and he reached for it from his pocket. He found a message from his friend, asking if he had arrived at the Elderwood Conservancy.

    “You should go,” Nora said. “Take the samples. I’ll check out our historical records and find out who Ryuzo is, and why our house has betrayed him before.”

    Glancing at the time on his phone, Dante sighed. His lecture was in two hours. He needed to make a move if he was to get to the conservancy, then take the ferry to the mainland. It was going to be a busy Thursday.

    “I’ll be back by Tuesday.”

    “Alright,” Nora said. “Be careful, Dante.”

    “I will, Mom.”

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  • A Thousand Years of Hope Ch 1-1

    The sunrise turned the vineyard landscape into a beautiful spectacle. Dante Arturo drove along the main path between the fields in an open jeep. He loved mornings at Artri, but today felt different. He worried in the face of the beautiful sunrise.

    Driving faster, Dante brought the jeep to a stop near a sizeable olive grove on the edge of the property. Getting out of the jeep, he grabbed the bag filled with sample containers and walked fast, hurrying down a wide path between olive trees.

    “Dante.”

    Dante turned left when he heard his name and raised his hand in greeting when he saw the vineyard manager, Hasim Kaan, waving at him.

    “Over here,” Hasim said.

    Dante hurried to where Hasim stood behind the thickest olive tree in the grove. Dante slowed down when he saw his mother crouched by the roots of the olive tree, her fingers digging into the soil. When she heard Dante, she took a bunch and held it out to him on her palm.

    “What do you think is causing the soil to turn this black?” Nora Arturo asked.

    Dante crouched next to her and took her palm. The soil on her palm was indeed as black as night. Dante bent his head over her palm and took a deep whiff. The soil smelled of decay and death.

    “The soil is corrupted,” Dante said with a sigh.

    “Corrupted soil does not come out of the blue,” Nora said, narrowing her gaze on the black soil.

    Dante got a glass container from his bag and placed the soil on his mother’s palm into the container. He wiped his palm over his mother’s cleaning the dirt out of his mother’s skin, and smiled at her.

    “Don’t worry so much,” Dante said. “We’ll find out the source of the problem.”

    “I hope we find it soon,” Nora said, getting up from her crouch to touch the oldest olive tree in their home. “I don’t want to lose any olive tree, Dante.”

    “One of my colleagues gave me a contact working in the Elderwood Conservancy. He says the conservancy is on the west side of our island, and it has researchers who can tell us what’s wrong with the soil. I’ll take these samples to them today,” Dante said. “They may help us.”

    “I’ll leave it to you,” Nora said, with a sigh, tracing the bark of the olive tree one last time.

    Dante got to work collecting soil samples around the olive tree.

    “I’ll have the workers help me keep watch over the grapevines,” Hasim said, helping Dante with digging deeper for soil samples. “It wouldn’t do to have this black soil invade the vines.”

    “It will be hard work,” Dante said. “Let me know if you need extra help. I’ll also come during the weekends.”

    “We can manage, Dante,” Hasim assured him. “You focus on discovering what is infecting our soil. We have never had this kind of trouble before.”

    “Could it be from the beach?” Nora asked, her gaze shifting to the bushes beyond the olive grove and leading to the beach beyond. “An oil spill or something worse.”

    “Perhaps,” Hasim said. “I have three men checking the beach. We haven’t found anything yet that would sink into the soil enough to rot it. We’ll keep looking though.”

    Once Dante and Hasim finished collecting the soil samples, Nora asked Hasim to walk the grove and report on the extent of the black corrupted soil. Dante led Nora back to the jeep, and he drove back to the main house.

    “When are you returning to Istanbul?” Nora asked when Dante pulled up at the back of the house. She got out of the jeep and Dante reached for the bag with the soil samples, following suit.

    The jeep was used to work around the vineyard, so he left the keys in it. Dante followed his mother to the kitchen entrance.

    “I have a lecture at Koc University this morning,” Dante said. “After, I’ll fly to the U.S.—”

    “You’re responding to that woman’s summons,” Nora said, her expression one of disapproval when she looked at him.

    Nora did not like his ex-girlfriend. She thought Viola was not good enough for him. After all these years, Viola’s relationship with Nora remained strained. However, Viola was the mother of his two children. A result of his past stupid decisions. He could not change what he did to, and with Viola. So, he tried to take responsibility, even though Nora did not like it.

    “Mom, Zach, and April are my children,” Dante said, as they entered the kitchen. His mother went to the sink to wash her hands and Dante reached for his own car keys in a holder on the kitchen counter. “At some point, we might need to take them both in, or one of them. You know what happens when our gifts come in.”

    “They are free of the bloodline,” Nora said, making Dante stop to stare at her in surprise. “I checked them, Dante when I visited you in New York. Zach was two, and April was a baby. It was my duty as their grandmother, as it was your grandfather’s to support you. I found no energy in your children with Viola. They are normal, unremarkable.”

    Dante gave an internal scoff at the way she said the word normal, as though it were a crime. Dante sighed at the familiar tirade. His mother found his relationship with Viola the greatest failure of his life.

    “Viola was never the right match for you,” Nora continued. “Dante, you know our family marries for love. You like men more than women. We have both known it since Grandmaster Landi started training you. If you wanted someone to make children with, I would have found a suitable girl. I have no idea how you fell in with Viola. Your time in New York with the Grandmaster failed you. You and Viola, it was the worst union I ever saw. I will never approve of her.”

    “Zach and April remain your blood,” Dante said, his right brow rising in question.

    “Of course,” Nora said. “I will always be their grandmother. They are welcome to visit our home. However, they do not have the power to own this house. When their descendants gain the gifts of our bloodline, this house will take them in.”

    “What about Viola?” Dante asked.

    “She is not welcome. She would not understand our way of life,” Nora stated. “I don’t need to educate you on why.”

    Dante stared at her for a full minute and then nodded in understanding.

    “When will you get the samples to the conservancy?” Nora asked, moving to the double tea maker to pour herself a glass of tea.

    “I’ll stop by before leaving the island,” Dante said. “Mom.”

    Nora looked up from checking the tea.

    “Don’t always blame Viola,” Dante said, giving her a small smile. “I was also at fault with her. I failed her.”

    “You failed each other,” Nora corrected. “It was not easy to watch from my end. The saddest story here belongs to Zach and April. They will miss getting to know the real you. Perhaps, your story is sad too.”

    “Why for me?” Dante asked with a frown.

    Nora let out a soft sigh.

    “Because, you never learned to how to fall in love,” Nora said. “Viola will love again, and so will Zach, and April. You on the other hand…”

    Nora shook her head and returned her attention to the tea maker.

    Dante watched her pour herself a glass of tea and wished he could refute her conclusions.

    Dante turned to enter the corridor to head to the front hall. He took a step, and the house started shaking. Walls vibrating, windows opening and closing. The house came alive, vibrating, shaking items on shelves, chairs, and tables.

    Dante stepped back into the kitchen to make sure his mother was safe. He found all the ingredient containers from the cabinets, cups, spoons, plates, and even his mother’s favorite tea maker suspended in the air. His mother stood in the middle of it all having a cup of tea. Gold sparks decorated the tips of her fingers on her left hand. She smiled at Dante.

    “Looks like your ancestors have something to say,” Nora said. “The grimoire must have opened downstairs.”

    Dante nodded and with a wave of his hand, his magic restored his mother’s kitchen to rights. He hurried into the corridor and opened the door that would lead him to the basement halls, running to see what would make their family’s grimoire come alive.

    *~*~*~*

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