Prophecy of Days - 01 - The Daykeeper's Grimoire by Christy Raedeke

Author:Christy Raedeke
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Fantasy
ISBN: 9780738715766
Publisher: Llewellyn Worldwide, LTD.
Published: 2010-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

Eight Batz, the Last Daykeeper, will then be born

This beginning of the end before the new beginning will arrive

The twelfth of November, nineteen hundred ninety-five

I gasp. November 12, 1995? That was the day I was born.

I feel dizzy and taste metal in my mouth.

I’m overwhelmed so I do what any overwhelmed girl would do: I lay face down on my bed and crash. When I wake up a little later feeling chilled, I’m too tired to get up and crawl under the covers so I reach over to grab the comforter and fold myself up like a burrito.

That’s when I see the man standing at the foot of my bed.

You know in dreams when you’re too scared to run or scream? That’s how I feel: paralyzed.

The man walks to the side of my bed. “Do not be afraid,” he says.

I assume I must be dreaming because all of a sudden I’m not scared.

He sits on the edge of my bed. His poncho looks like a rug, woven with really bright colors. His skin is dark and weathered and he has very high cheekbones and small square teeth; I get a feeling he’s Mexican, although he almost looks Asian. He’s wearing old black sandals and thick pants made out of some kind of heavy linen cloth.

“It’s good to see you,” he says with an accent I can’t place. “My name is Bolon. It has been a long day, yes?”

“You have no idea,” I reply.

He is silent for a long time, but it doesn’t seem weird. We just look at each other.

Then he says, “You are doing well. You are on the path and we are very proud of you.”

“Wow … thanks, I guess. But who do you mean by ‘we’?”

“The Elders on The Council who help guide the prophecy.”

I prop up on one elbow and wonder if I could be aware of myself like this if I were actually dreaming. “Is this a dream?” I ask.

He smiles, “Isn’t it all? What is the difference between a dream and waking life—both are created by you, so which is real? Or are they both?”

I lay back down on the pillow with a thud. He shifts a little and I get a whiff of a complex smell—wood fire, spices, tree sap. I don’t remember ever smelling anything in a dream, but if this is real, why aren’t I scared?

He seems to know what I’m thinking. “I am not here to frighten you, or to make you uncomfortable. I am here to answer any questions you have.”

I sit up again. He has this incredibly kind face with the type of small, squinty eyes that make a person look like he’s always smiling.

“I just don’t understand any of this.”

He puts his old hand over mine and I feel the same jolt of energy I did when I touched the names on the tower, which seems like forever ago. He looks me straight in the eyes and starts to speak, although I feel like he could tell me everything I need to know without saying it out loud.

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