The woman glides past me, approaching the sofa across from me. Her hand calmly gestures at me, telling me to sit.
I rest in my seat. She elegantly sits across from me. Our eyes meet, her smile still consoling me. I coerce, "Why do I feel like I know you?" She fixes her gaze on me and begins to respond, "You do… know me…."
Startled, I retort, "How is that possible? I've never met you in my life!"
She remains composed, her eyes steady and unwavering. "In time, you will understand…."
Dumbfounded, I reply, "What…?" A surge of desperation rises in me as I counter, "Who are you? And how do I know you? What is this place, and why is it here?"
Her expression tightens as if stifling frustration. Then, with practiced grace, she gestures downward, her fingers tracing an invisible command through the air. An unseen force grips me, pressing me back into my seat. My muscles lock in place, betraying my will. I try to speak, but my lips refuse to move. A spell—or something close to it—has frozen me where I sit.
She exhales, slow and deliberate. "First, no more questions. Second, here are your answers."
I abandon resistance, if only for the sake of hearing her out.
She straightens herself, posture regal yet heavy with unseen weight. "I am Seer. That is how you will greet me as of today, and I am here to guide you on the right path to your higher self. You will grow, and you will learn the hidden magicks of channeling."
Magick? Channeling? My mind churns through the unfamiliar words, but my body remains unresponsive.
She continues, "Channeling is the ability to call upon your past lives to save this world from greed and misguidance... those who are falsely guided by the relic of Avarice."
Then she pauses, scrutinizing me as though expecting something. "Do you understand?"
Her gaze bears down on me. She still refuses to release her hold on me. I grit my teeth.
No. Who does she think she is? Does she truly believe I'll submit so easily?
A sharp rush surges through me—something primal, unyielding. I force my body to move. The spell fractures, shattering like thin glass. My limbs lurch forward. My mouth unlocks.
"What are you—crazy?" The words spill out faster than I can control. "So you expect me to flop to your toes and just agree with you? Without knowing exactly what I'm getting myself into? Yes, I'm an orphan, but that doesn't mean I'm desperate enough to follow blindly! You think I'll let you strip my right to speak? And what's the end goal? Why me?"
My blood boils. The sheer audacity of this so-called Seer!
She recoils, eyes widening, breath faltering. Stammering, she mutters, "How… how are you able to…"
Her voice trails off, her thoughts scattering before she catches them again.
Then—unexpectedly—she lowers her head.
"I'm sorry." Her voice softens, trembling at the edges. "I meant no harm. I was overwhelmed by your questions… and I reacted poorly. Please, forgive me."
Silence lingers between us. Then, she takes a breath—deep, calming.
"I am Seer. And I am your guide for the times to come. You are here because you possess great power—power fused into your soul since the moment you were in your mother's womb."
She beams now, conviction creeping back into her voice.
I shift uneasily. "Power? What power?"
Her expression dims. "When you were conceived, a relic of great importance fused itself with your astral essence. At the age of sixteen, you will obtain incredible strength."
Her lips curl into a confident grin.
But something is wrong.
I glance at the floor, hesitant. "That… that doesn't make sense. I'm only thirteen."
A heartbeat of silence.
Then—Seer freezes.
"Wait." Her tone fractures. "What? That's impossible!"
She leans away, fingers twitching, struggling to grip the reality unfolding before her. She flips her palm outward, summoning a book that materializes from thin air. As she hastily scans its pages, her lips part, barely forming words.
"This… doesn't make sense," she murmurs. "How… how is this happening right now?"
The air shifts.
She tears her gaze from the book, locking eyes with me.
For the first time, I see something unexpected in her expression.
A flicker of unease.
She stares blankly, her body suddenly restless.
Then, without warning, she turns away, pacing before the fireplace, muttering under her breath—no longer composed. No longer assured.
Shivers creep up my spine.
And when I feel it—when I sense something looming behind me—I turn.
At the top of the lodge stairs stand six figures.
Their presence floods the space, heavy, silent, undeniable.
I jolt to my feet. The room begins to distort. The lodge dissolves, unraveling into something foreign.
A courtroom.
The six figures sit, evenly divided, leaving an empty seat between them.
I stand alone, placed where the witness would be.
Seer stands beside me—my supposed advocate.
Distant voices murmur, tangled in dispute. Some argue I am too young. Others argue that they have no choice. Some speak of destruction, some of peace.
Overwhelmed, I stagger beneath their presence.
Their words mesh together, indistinct yet charged with meaning.
Seer steps forward.
"Everyone! Quiet!"
The voices cut away.
She collects herself, exhaling, grounding her stance.
"I am just as lost as you all. I cannot compute this, but arguing among ourselves will not fix it. Now is the time to come together."
She scans the figures. "I understand we are all from different times, different cultures. But do not forget—our souls are shared through Elora's astral essence. Without her, we are better off dead!"
***********************************************************************************
Dark voices clashed around me, layered in argument, thick with urgency.
Voice 4 (Gypsy) spoke first, her tone soft yet mature, carrying warmth beneath her concern. "Don't worry, we know that... It's just—she's so young! How could we let her go through everything at such a young age? She still has so much to live for!"
Voice 6 (Baker) chimed in, her voice gentle yet motherly. "I agree with Gypsy. She mustn't go through this. I say we let it go and let her live an ordinary young life—as a thirteen-year-old should!"
But then came Voice 2 (Nobleman), his presence sharp, unyielding. "I'm afraid I have to disagree. The world is at stake, and Kress is out and about. We need to train her now for the forthcoming future! She needs to understand—before it's too late."
Voice 1 (Warrior) added his own conviction, his voice shallow yet grounded, like ancient stone. "When I was young, I fought for my beliefs, my battles. And then—I was slaughtered for them." A pause, heavy with memory. "Because of that, I agree. She must be trained before it's too late. If only I had trained sooner... before my terrible end."
Gypsy groaned in disapproval, sharp and frustrated. "Ugh! What has gotten into you all? She is too young!" Her head turned sharply toward the only figure who had yet to speak. "Witch?!" Her voice carried expectation—demand. "You wouldn't send Elora to her deathbed, would you?! She is too young!"
A hush fell over the room.
Even though the figures were wrapped in a blanket of darkness, I felt their presence shift—all eyes turning toward the Witch.
But she responded with nothing but silence.
I sat there, frozen, unable to process what was happening. My pulse was erratic. My body numb. I wanted to speak—needed to speak—but the words never reached my lips.
Instead, my mind spiraled. Forthcoming future? A war? Who is Kress? What is happening?
Questions clawed at my throat, desperate, unresolved. Why do I know these voices? Are they my past lives? The ones Seer spoke of?
And then—I noticed it.
The empty seat.
One chair, placed perfectly between the others.
My chest tightened. Who does that seat belong to? Why is it empty?
Something felt off. A missing presence. A gap that shouldn't exist.
My gaze flickered across the courtroom, scanning the darkened corners. The room felt hollow. Too vast.
Then—the spiraling grew worse. My vision blurred. The ringing in my ears swelled, drowning everything else out. Voices melted into static. My head spun. My thoughts—my self—felt fractured beneath the weight of uncertainty.
What's happening in the world outside the orphanage?
And why do I feel like I already know?
I forced my breath to slow. Calm. I had to focus. Had to understand.
Then, just as my heartbeat steadied—
Voice 3 (Knight) surged forward, his deep heroic voice cutting through the chaos.
"QUIET! All of you!"
His fist slammed against the surface before him, commanding instant attention.
"Clearly, there is too much disagreement among us! If you will, all of you—let Witch speak!"
A final hush fell across the courtroom.
All awaited Witch's answer.
When she finally spoke, her voice carried sorrow—thin yet powerful.
Voice 5 (Witch): "Since the day I was first brought into this world, a false religion misguided humans. Priests hungered for control. Their greed grew enormously—so much so that they strung up those who defied them."
Her voice cracked. She took a breath, but it was unsteady, fractured by old wounds.
"They thirsted for more... and more... what they had was never enough!"
She paused, as if swallowing the pain, suppressing something deeper.
Then—her voice broke.
"I HATED EACH AND EVERY ONE OF THEM!" The words shattered the stillness like brittle glass.
A trembling breath.
"I prayed that in our next lives... the world would be better."
A long silence.
"But I was wrong. It hasn't changed... and knowing that—knowing that something that horrible could happen again..." Her voice wavered, as if on the brink of shattering completely. "I want a better world—for Elora and our new soul... for her to live a better life than mine."
The weight of her words collapsed over me, pressing into my chest like an unseen force.
Something inside me screamed.
It was no longer just my own feelings—I could feel hers. The bitterness. The loss. The unshaken grief lodged in her very being.
And then—everything became clear.
These voices. These lives. These souls...
They are me.
They are the lives I lived before.
That's why they feel familiar.
Because they are me.
And I am them.
We do not simply share the same soul.
We are the same soul.
A breath escapes me, shaky but sure.
I stare at them, absorbing their existence fully for the first time.
All of them.
Each and every one.
Their histories. Their pain. Their strength.
They need me.
And somehow—I know, deep within—I need them.