Golden

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

            “It only makes sense,” Quinn says as he flips through another page in the thick book he is reading. “How else would you have such an ability if not for it given to you?”

            After Quinn shared his theory with him, I found myself frantically searching through the library once more for an answer. Swiftly, my hand glides over the binding of each book on every shelf, my eyes skimming over each title with hopes of finding anything that catches my attention.

            “Why else would Penella purposely send Adrian to specifically kill you, and then immediately title you as her Warrior? Penella knew she would die if she gave you her soul; it is only obvious that she expects you to take over her rule once she is gone,” he says.

            My hand ceases as well as every other part of me. Turning to Quinn, I give him a fierce look, “I cannot lead Valsea,” I tell him.

            As if my words had slid right off of him, Quinn continues speaking. “The only thing I do not understand if how you are not dead,” he stops skimming through the pages of the book and turns his body to face me. “When a god gives their soul to their child, the child’s own soul rejects it and the newborn is killed.”

            I watch Quinn, frowning at his words. He does not seem in the least bit fazed by this revelation. It is almost as if… “You knew,” I realize. Quinn gives her an expecting look, “you already knew that I am Penella’s daughter.”

            Quinn sighs, “yes, I did. However I did not know that you were given the Golden ability, which is why I am so amazed by you,” he smiles, “I have never seen such extraordinary actions before.”

            “How did you know?” I ask him, ignoring his last sentences. “How did you know and why did you never tell me?” I nearly shout, anger at his omission. How can someone keep such incredible information from the one who should have known it all along?

            He then stands, clasping his hands together behind his back as he faces me. “I know because I was in a similar situation as yourself,” he confesses. “My father was the god Cyrus,” he then goes on to say.

            I am nearly speechless. “I thought his child was killed?” I say in bewilderment.

            “My mother did not have a single child. She gave birth to twin boys, my brother born before me. Being the older son, he received our father’s soul instead of me and was killed. My life was not documented; it was only known that our mother had one child instead of two. Cyrus never knew about me.”

            “Penella found out about my existence later after recruiting Blake as her second Agent, so she made me her third under reasons that were clandestine to others. She told me who my father was, and that my existence must continue to be kept unknown to other gods, otherwise they will try to find me and I will be forced to rule Maltha.” He takes a deep breath and leans his head back, “this is why I do not understand why your soul did not reject Penella’s.”

            In the midst of his speaking, my foot had come in contact with a hard surface. I glance down, noticing a thin book lying on the tile floor. I pick it up and lightly brush off the dust that had settled on it, noticing that there is no title on the cover or on the binding.

            I skim through a few pages, and then a gasp escapes my lips. “This book,” I say, looking up at Quinn. “This book is about my life!”

            He stands and heads over to where I am, peering over my shoulder to read the words I read. “Whose name is this? Yours?” he asks, pointing to the name at the very top of the page.

            I nod, “when I first arrived in Valsea, Penella told me that that was my name in my previous life, before I was killed.” I run my fingers over the black text: Rose Wilkinson.

            “It is very detailed,” Quinn thinks aloud, and his words are true.

            The book provides lengthy descriptions of my life as Rose Wilkinson, from the very second of my birth to the very moment of my death, containing every thought that crossed my mind to each expression that graced my face.

            After skimming through the first few pages of my birth, my eyes catch onto a few standout sentences.

From within the entrapment of her courtroom, the goddess Penella buried her hand into her chest and pulled her life source from within. Holding her soul in her immortal hands and armed with the knowledge of Cyrus’ failure, the goddess Penella proceeded to tear her soul into halves. Returning one half to her body, the cursed goddess raised her ripped soul to her eternal lips and blew it to her newborn child, where both goddess and child’s souls intertwined and merged as one. Here, the goddess Penella lies forever locked within the darkness of her courtroom to slowly wither away until her body takes her last dying breath.

            “Is such a thing even possible? Tearing your soul in half?” I ask in shock.

            Quinn runs a hand through his hair, “I have never heard of such a thing, but it explains how you survived. By giving only half of her soul to you, your newborn body was able to merge your soul with hers without being overwhelmed.”

            “What will happen to the other half, though?” I share my thoughts, flipping through the next few pages, only to find no further information on Penella.

            “I suspect that once Penella dies, her half of the soul will be sent to you to join its other half,” he answers, however his expression causes me to doubt his words.

            Suddenly, a thought crosses my mind. “You just returned from Maltha?” I say. Quinn nods, “how did that go? Did you find out anything about Adrian?” I ask.

            Quinn purses his lips, “that is exactly what I wanted to talk to you about.”