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The Immortals Prophecy
Vane hated being immortal.
I mean sure he thought it totally awesome at first, but now it was just agitating. I mean what is the point?
Sure he can have a bullet through the head, arm, or leg, and not feel a thing, and then be able to return to the Living. But how did living forever benefit him?
He sighed and stared at the blue that stretched out forever
Vane loved the sea.
He always had, ever since the day his mother had been killed.
It was like visiting an old friend when he came here. It had comforted him when he had ran here after his mother had been shot by his sociopath father.
He remembered he used to be afraid of the water, he had refused to come in when his mother brought him, but that day he had wanted to feel the cool saltwater lapping against his feet. It made him feel safe.
He smiled as the sun appeared over the horizon, it was beautiful.
He lingered a moment longer then he sighed and turned on his heel, he had to pay his rent today and Mrs. Higgens would probably be waiting at the door. Like she always did when it was time to pay rent.
She would be there in her ugly green bath robe, and her pink bunny slippers, she would demand her money there and if he didn’t have it she wouldn’t let him in. He began walking away from the beach when he saw a shimmering figure near the water. It was the girl he had been seeing of late. She was staring down at her arm, wincing as ink snaked its way around her wrist. Vane winced as he felt the pain she must be feeling.
He stepped towards her but then she disappeared in a flash of white, hot light.
The sky turned a bright shade of pink, and blue as he arrived at his apartment complex still thinking of what he had seen. His wrist felt like fire, but he ignored it. He walked up the stairs, and sure enough there Mrs. Higgins stood wearing her bunny slippers and robe.
“There you are, I was waiting. Now where’s the rent?” She said in her high pitched voice, her hand outstretched.
“I have it here Higgins.” He reached inside his pocket and pulled out $400 crisp dollars.
Mrs. Higgins snatched it from his hands and began to count the money. Satisfied she stepped aside and let him in.
“Nice tattoo by the way, didn't know you had any.” She laughed, and Vane stopped, confused.
“Tattoo?” He said, “I don’t have a tattoo.”
“Yeah well, I just saw it when you itched your wrist so… what do I know?”
Mrs. Higgins snorted and stalked off back to her room.
Vane itched his wrist, as he walked up the stairs, and unlocked his apartment door. The pain was unbearable, and he knelt to the ground and leaned against the door, gritting his teeth.
He grabbed ahold of his shirt sleeve and pulled it up exposing his skin. Snaking up his arms where words in a different language, the skin around the words where extremely red as though he had just gotten a tattoo.
Vane shook his head, surely this couldn’t be real. He believed that your bodies shouldn’t be ruined by tattoos, or piercings, so when did he get one? Not today, he had only taken a short walk to the sea, and then came straight back.
He sat there a moment, and soon the pain was gone, as well as the redness but his questions weren’t.
When had he gotten the tattoo? Where had he gotten the tattoo? And Why? Could the tattoo be connected to the girl he kept seeing? Vane didn’t know how to answer his questions, but he knew someone who could. He got to his feet, and walked to the kitchen.
To get to his friend he needed to do something quite drastic. He needed to kill himself.
He opened his keepsake drawer and pulled out a stainless steel knife with a wooden hilt. He pressed the recently disinfected tip to his heart, then pulled it away.
Should he bother her? What if she’s with a soul? He shook his head, and put the tip to his heart again. He took a breath and then plunged it in.
He felt nothing, but his body responded to the knife in his chest. He stumbled backwards and fell to the floor, hitting his head against the corner of the counter with a sickening crack.
Darkness formed around him, melting away his counters, stove, and fridge. The darkness intensified until everything had been swallowed by it.
Vane stood, and glanced around until he caught sight of her.
She looked the same as always. She wore her waist length black hair in braids, and wore a wreath of black, and gold roses around her head, her gold eyes still had that hint of silver in them, and she wore the same ripped jeans, with a black shirt. And of course she was barefoot, I mean it’s not like she ever touched the ground, she hovered, and sometimes she would be eight feet up in the air.
She was a short 4’9 and Vane teased her relentlessly for it, but he knew she didn’t mind, she preferred to be that short.
Dahlia stared at Vane, then she shook her head, her braids swishing behind her.
“So what is it this week? Do you want me to do your laundry? Cook you dinner? Wash your hair?” Dahlia stepped towards him and tousled his hair. “Your gonna have to learn to do this stuff yourself baby Vein.”
“It’s Vane” He corrected.
“Whatever, so what do you want?” She raised her eyebrows, and began to float off the ground. Once she was high enough she crossed her legs, and put her hands under her head.
Daliah groaned “Just spit it out!” She Said firmly.
“I’m sorry I had to bother you but it’s important.”
Dahlia shook her head.
“Skip the formalities, surely you killed yourself for some reason.”
Vane nodded, and held out his arm for her to see the tattoo. Dahlai glanced at it.
“Nice tattoo, didn’t know you understood Latin.”
Vane shook his head.
“No, I didn’t get this tattoo it…. Appeared.”
Dahlia yawned, and her bare feet touched the ground.
“And?” She pressed,
“And, that girl i’ve been seeing was there.”
Dahlia stared at the tattoo then jerked her head up.
“Great Naomie decides to die now!”
She shook her head, and her form began to shimmer.
“Your tattoo is in Latin:
A die, cum di immortales
sua corruet impius veniet
et exitium tibi applicitum
A day shall come when
the immortal man shall fall,
and ruin shall be brought upon…
The dots must mean that the prophecy isn’t completed…..”
Dahlia shimmered and then burst into golden light, the darkness faded until he was back in his kitchen staring at the bloody knife on the floor.
When Vane disappeared, Naomie immediately appeared. Dahlia read from her book of souls, welcomed her, then sent her on her way to the underworld. The day went on like this, and Dahlia was too busy to think about what Vane had told her.
But once things quieted down, she summoned her makeshift room, and sat at her vanity mirror brushing her long raven hair.
She was positive that the girl he was seeing was somehow linked to him. And she was also certain that the tattoo on his arm was part of a prophecy, but something still nagged at her. Where was the rest of the prophecy?
She had a feeling that whoever the girl was, knew what was going on, but how would Dahlia find her?
She was the Deity of the dead, she only kept a record book of dead people not living people.
She sighed, set her black hairbrush down, and positioned her golden black crown of roses on her head. She knew what she had to do, she had to call on the Deity of the living. She stood and her room disappeared, so she was wrapped in darkness again.
The God of the living was the most obnoxious, and annoying, beach bum that Dahlia had ever known.
She hadn’t spoken to him in 5,000 years, and she knew he would be clingy like when they were kids.
She adjusted her crown, then rolled her eyes. Why was she so nervous to see him? She was never like this around Vane.
She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath she knew he would come, he always did. As long as she called his name, he would come.
She mouthed his name first, then she whispered it:
She was about to say it again, when he appeared.
He looked just like she remembered.
Hair that was so blonde, it looked white, bright blue eyes, and that scar on his chin from where she had slammed his chin onto the corner of his “Throne” all because he had called her Satan. The only thing different about him was that he had a toothbrush wedged between his teeth, and he was staring down at his phone.
“Okay I’m here, what's the problem?” He glanced up, and the toothbrush fell from his mouth.
“Dahlia?” He asked, his face lighting up.
His phone disappeared, and he rushed forward enfolding Dahlia in his arms. She Blushed as he scooped her up and twirled her around.
“Dahlia! It’s been so long! I….I missed you!” He shouted. He set her down and her wreath of flowers fell lopsided on her head.
“Vixen it’s good to see you too.” She adjusted her flower crown, and stepped away so she could have some space.
“Your shorter than the last time I saw you.” He cocked his head and smiled, “You look good.” Dahlia blushed and looked away.
What was happening?
“Look Vixen, I didn’t summon you for a social call.”
He nodded, his smile disappearing.
“I know” he said forlornly, “So what is it?”
Dahlia looked down, she was taking advantage of Vixen and she knew it, but it had to be done.
“I need to find someone. A girl she’s alive, and well I’m no Goddess of the Living.”
Vixen laughed, and Dahlia got a warm feeling within her.
“You can say that again Satan! So, what does this girl look like?”
Dahlia racked her brain. Vane had mentioned that she looked nearly identical to him. So that meant dirty blonde hair, gray eyes, and a lopsided grin.
Dahlia relayed the information to Vixen, and he sighed.
“Not much to go on, I mean if you gave me a name I could have found her easy.”
Dahlia nodded, and snapped her fingers. Immediately a sofa appeared from out of the balck abyss. They both sat and Vixen began leafing through the Book of the Living.
“Hmmmm, I don’t know where to start.”
Dahlia thought for a moment then something occurred to her.
“Why don’t you look up the last name Ferrose.”
Vixen nodded, and further increased his searching.
Dahlia watched him, his mouth was moving as he recited the names, and she couldn't draw her eyes away. She had missed him more than she realized.
“Ferrose…...Ferrose…..Found them!” Vixen grinned “Ok, the only living descendants of the Ferrose family is a Fern, and Fred.”
Dahlia frowned, and crossed her arms over her chest.
“So, Vane is Fred, and that girl is Fern?”
Vixen closed the book and it disappeared in a flash of light.
“I have no idea who Vane is so ...maybe?”
Dahlia stood, and the sofa melted into darkness.
“Do you think you can find her, Ummm I mean can you find Fern?”
Vixen sighed, and his eyes became unfocused.
“There’s a powerful spell guarding her from me, I can’t find her.”
Dahlia shuffled her feet.
“Well, thank you Vixen, it was nice to see you.”
“You too.” Vixen then disappeared with a loud Pop!
Dahlie had few answers, and plenty more questions, how where Fern and Vane related? Were they siblings? Was she immortal too? Or was she completely normal?
Dahlia then felt death, someone had died. She raised her eyebrows as a mark appeared on her left arm, it was a single I. She did a 360 and finally noticed a young boy, he looked completely calm which meant he was an Immortal.
“Whah…?!” Dahlia wet her lips, and stepped towards the boy. “Your Immortal right?”
The boy nodded.
“Sorry about this, i’ll be gone in a sec!”
Dahlia glanced down at her arm and realization dawned on her.
“Yeah, uhh I know this will sound strange, but how did you die?”
He frowns slightly.
“Why?” He asks.
“Because I don’t think your gonna regenerate.” She says straightforwardly.
He sits down an amused smile on his face.
“This is a good joke!” He says, a huge grin on his face, “It doesn’t matter how I died right? I’ll just regenerate, right?”
“Just tell me!” Dahlia insisted.
“Jeez! Fine, I was just in an alley and I saw this blue light, and then someone stabbed me, there, happy?” He said, a smirk on his face.
“Listen to me!” Daliah hissed, “I need details!” But the boy was already fading, he would soon arrive in the Underworld.
Dahlia sighed, as the boy disappeared a smirk still plastered on his face. She had to find a solution to this. And she knew where to start.
She arrived at the corner of Eight street dressed in her regular shirt and jeans, and she had actually worn her black and white sneakers.
Her real destination was in New York but she had to tell Vane what she had found out about that girl fern, and how they were related. Then she would visit the God of Prophecy and ask about the “End of the Immortals” Prophecy.
She stepped up to Vane’s apartment building, and knocked three times. Then she peeked into the window. It was completely dark inside.
Dahlia sighed, he clearly wasn’t home, she turned to leave and there he was walking down the street. Dahlia sighed with relief, better late than never.
“Vane!” She called out. He smiled and jogged the rest of the way to the building.
“Dahlia? Don’t you have to work?”
She nodded, as he unlocked the door and switched on the lights. It wasn’t a fancy house, but it was still quite cozy, a bookcase stood in the living room next to the red sofa, and chairs. A simple wood table, with matching chairs stood off to the right of the living room, along with the kitchen. The walls where alight baby blue, and the carpet was brown wood.
Vane settled down in one of the red chairs, and motioned for her, but she remained standing.
“Vane, I found out who that girl is, she’s Fern Ferrose, and you two are somehow related. I think the Prophecy on your arm is incomplete, and that she has the rest of the Prophecy! And an Immortal appeared, along with this single I on my arm.” She showed him the mark, and took a deep breath. “And the Immortal was dead Vane!”
Vane stared at her, and then he began to laugh.
“What's so funny!?” Dahlia insisted.
Vane coughed, and met her eyes.
“Basically what you're saying is that Immortals are dying, I’m related to that shimmery girl I keep seeing, and Immortals are dying? What kind of sick joke is this?!”
Dahlia stomped her foot, and scowled at him.
“You think I’m lying!?” She spat.
He smiled “Of course your lying, the whole point of being Immortal is that you live forever!” He said cheerily.
Dahlia scoffed, and turned on her heels.
“I may be plenty of things, but I am no liar Fred!”
“It’s Vane!” He shouted after her.
Dahlia tore open the door, and abruptly teleported to New York without closing it behind her. She stared up at the old dirty green house that the God of Prophecy resided in.
She didn’t have to knock he was already waiting for her, in his green tweed jacket, and matching pants, with his white shirt. He had thinning grey hair, and blue eyes crinkled around the corners.
Dahlia had never understood why he chose to be a 70 year old man, but just like she preferred to be short, he preferred to be old.
“Hello Jerome.” Dahlia said.
“Dahlia, wonderful to see you dear!” He took her hand and led her inside his musty old house.
“Jerome, I just came to see the Book of Prophecy’s that’s all.”
Jerome smiled, and led her into his kitchen, where he put an old rusty pot on the stove.
“I hope you like Chamomile tea, I have no other kind! But next time I go shopping, I'll pick some up!”
Dahlia smiled, and watched as he prepared the tea. Once they were seated Dahlia told him of everything that had happened.
“Well, that’s quite a doozy of a story! To bad I already knew.” He smiled, and set down his tea, “I have the Book of Prophecy’s in my study, you can collect it there.”
Dahlia raised her eyebrows, no one had ever entered Jerome’s study.
“It’s just down the hall to your left!” He said, taking another sip of tea.
Dahlia rose, and walked brusquely down the hall. When she came to the door she hesitated.
Why had Jerome sent her to get the book herself?
She turned the doorknob quickly, and opened it slowly.
What she saw made her jaw drop. The whole room was illuminated by bright blue lights, and floating in the air where pieces of old, wrinkled papers, and books.
Dahlia stepped into the rooms, and began to float with the books, and papers. She reached out and grabbed book after book after book, until she found the Book of Prophecy’s.
Dahlia grasped the book close to her chest, and re-entered the hall.
“You found it.” Jerome said as she came into the sitting room. “Page Twelve.” He said, giving her a meaningful look.
She thumbed through the pages, until she came to page Twelve.
“This has all been foretold.” Jerome, whispered as he took the last sip of his tea.