Awakening

By E. I. Landa

This riveting sequel begins where the cliff-hanger of the first book, Warriors of the Sacred Garden – Mila: Iron and Silk, left us. Mila awakens from a coma in the laboratory of her nemesis, Masae Norfolk—the ruthless CEO of a powerful pharmaceutical tycoon that uses its knowledge to unleash bioweaponry on the world. In the lab, Mila is in the care of Masae's head scientist, Dr. Alexander Lyashenko, who has been tasked with genetically altering Mila using experimental treatments that will enhance her skills for combat and espionage.

      

            Desperate to put together the broken pieces of her life, her identity, and her purpose, Mila is caught in a race against Masae to the finish line—the heart of Amazonas. Once she gets there, she must confront her past and decide on her future: can she forgive herself for becoming the woman Masae made her into? Can she heal the wounds she has both inflicted and incurred? Can she learn to love again? Mila fights for her life to rise from the ashes as a warrior awakened.

• Language: English
• Publisher: E. I. Landa
• Release date: May 19, 2022
• ISBN: 9781792393099

E. I. Landa

E. I. Landa is an autodidact who fervently pursues everything that ignites a fire in her heart and mind. She writes fiction in mashup genres: Sci-Fi, Adventure with some elements found in spy stories and romantic ones. The birth of her son gave her the courage to write: Warriors of the Sacred Garden: Mila: Iron and Silk, and the sequel soon to be completed: Awaken Warrior. When she isn't inside her mind exploring imaginary worlds, she travels to see the beauty of this world with her own eyes. She enjoys raising her son, reading, listening to music while taking long walks in nature, painting and learning new things. During the work day, she is busy mentoring high school students in the art of learning foreign languages. E. I. Landa lives with her son in a peaceful Midwestern town, which is her launching pad to a great voyage around the real world and imaginary ones.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

With the Name Comes the Life – David Ben-Gurion International Airport – Israel 2005

You must be basketball players, are you? asked a man proud of his assertion. The toilets were still occupied, he had plenty of time to make conversation. He furrowed his plump face and narrowed his eyes to the four tallest men aboard the plane. What team do you play for?

Gadiel turned in his narrow seat. Team?

Oh, boy! Here we go again. Whispered Leo under his breath, adjusting his sitting position, his long and strong legs were going numb in his restrictive seat.

Amidor gave his Sachapuyo brothers a knowing look before turning to the man. Sorry to disappoint you, we don’t play basketball. Amidor said with his most charming smile on his crescent-moon face, We actually prefer soccer as a sport to play and watch. But not modern soccer, of course.

The other Cloud Warriors shook their heads, understanding what he was about to say.

But we truly love the ancient game of soccer, where the strongest army scored goals with the losers’ heads. Amidor concluded with a regretful expression and a sigh. It’s a pity the rules have changed.

And that will do! Hadi said, amused, glancing at the passengers around them.

The people who heard the interaction gawked at the four with wide eyes.

What a swift adaptation to these times, Brothers! Gadiel observed disapprovingly in his ancient Healer language.

Of course they aren’t basketball players! said a young woman, snatching a picture of the four ancient ones. You played vampires in a movie or were you mutants? I’ve seen you somewhere. She tried to recall, scrolling down celebrity pictures on her smartphone.

Gadiel sighed, checking his watch just as the pilot’s voice chirped above them. Preparing for landing. Local time 10:00 AM. Weather: sunny without a chance of rain.

They were Sachapuyo warriors: Gadiel, Leo, Hadi, and Amidor. Though they appeared young, they were closer to a millennium of life on earth and maybe more in other realms. Most recently, they’d spent the last seven hundred years in their personal time capsules, a complex of sarcophagi in the heart of the Peruvian Cloud Forest, until being woken by Mila Ferro and other members of Cherut, a UN ghost organization.

Their adaptation to modern life seemed easy and supernatural on the outside. But the inner work each of them performed was as arduous as taming a dragon. One side of their nature thirsted for violence and the other desired peace and life. There were two competing wills struggling within one entity. Day by day, each of them had to surrender their innate inclinations to the will of the Highest. They embraced who gave them a new life and purpose for peace and healing on the planet.

The four descended to the tarmac. Each of them was frozen at an age that would take, not months, but centuries to change. Age wasn’t a relevant attribute for the purpose of their existence, but for the sake of the curious mind, they seemed somewhere in their late twenties. Their features appealing to the sight, each an exquisite representation of earthly races and divine creations, for such was their origin: earth and heaven interwoven. They were dressed in elegant attire for their apparent ages, fresh and hip for modern times. Far in the past were the alpaca and cotton tunics and thin leather trousers they’d worn in the Cloud Forest.

On the tarmac, the four warriors breathed the welcoming scents of Israel. It was a stimulating blend of travelers’ expensive perfumes, spices, and aircraft gasoline. They would have to wait until getting to their apartment in Jerusalem to recognize the sweet and tart scent of pomegranate and citrus plants mingling deliciously with grape vines, each in bloom.

The four quickly moved into the shuttle bus and sat facing each other, clutching their carry-on suitcases to prevent them from rolling away. The morning sun filtered through the windows revealing dust particles dancing before them and giving Gadiel’s naturally glossy gray hair a glorious shine. It framed his handsome square face and lit up his deep amethyst-colored eyes.

Although we come from different places, it feels as if I am returning home, Gadiel said thoughtfully in his old Healer language, the oldest form of Hebrew. Each word left a sweet taste on his tongue as he spoke. Each phrase became stronger as they left his lips. He glanced at his fellow sojourners, his brothers for life.

I know what you mean. Perhaps we feel this way because we are close to the place where everything began, Leo answered, his golden skin contrasting with his white cotton shirt, all in harmony with his radiant sunshine hair and deep blue eyes. He regarded his brothers thoughtfully as he spoke. The place where our kind was created before everything, even before the great voyage in search of peace. He opened and closed his fingers as if gripping his ancient sword. It pained him to have been separated from the one token of his ancient identity. But Eldad Shalit, the Israeli special agent and member of Cherut, had carried it into the land in his private flight a couple of weeks prior to their arrival. His sword was waiting for him at the house—their new home.

In cooperation with Cherut, the United Nations ghost organization to which the Cloud Warriors now belonged, each received full names, modernized professions, and other details that would advance their mission of protecting the Sacred Garden and the knowledge developed there.

Gadiel Shein, Leo Ackerman, Hadi Kalef, and Amidor Guillou stood stoically in the nationals’ immigration check lines. They waited with their passports and national identification cards ready for clearing and meeting Eldad outside the airport.

The last immigration and customs interrogation to endure. Hadi said, joining a line for nationals returning home, as did the others.

Our presence in this time and land will be established. Leo added, opening his passport to the first page and prepared to show it to the custom agent. The piece of paper reduced thousands of years of life into a few over twenty.

Please, remember not to lose your temper. Stay calm and relaxed despite the length of this interrogation. Eldad told us to keep in mind the persistent attacks this country has suffered. The constant questioning of friend or foe is natural,

Understandable. It’s their Kuelap and Sacred Garden to protect, Amidor said, stepping to the check counter.

Each Warrior showed their worn-out but newly issued documents. They didn’t mean to show off their meanderings around the world; it had been necessary to create a presence. But to those stuck in one place behind a desk, that’s what it looked like. The navy-blue books in the immigration agent’s hands seemed to be witness to an adventure around the world à la Jules Verne. It was decorated like a collector’s catalogue of visas and stamps for multiple entrances and exits from many different countries. Every detail depicted in their passports had been recorded on secure government clouds prior to their arrival, yet the Warriors expressed their preference for paper books as a souvenir of their fantastic voyage that had lasted a whole year.

Impressive travels! You’ve really seen the world! commented the agent, surveying the intriguing man in front of him and glancing at the other three standing with the other well-trained customs agents.

Each officer at his respective counter excused themselves and stepped away from the counter to a corner to compare the ID cards the Cloud Warriors provided. They called on a superior and proceeded to check again on a different computer. Then the officers without finding any red flags, returned to the expectant warriors for one last round of questions.

Are you Jewish? How often do you go to Shul? When do we celebrate Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur? What do you do on those days? Do you keep the day of rest?

The four answered calmly in modern Hebrew as rehearsed with Eldad.

Well, Dr. Shein, here is your passport and ID back. Said the agent, studying Gadiel and the other three.

The immigration agents had to loosen their grip. Aside from their image nothing was out of the ordinary. This was a group of friends returning home from a world trip.

What an amazing journey you had. concluded the agent to Gadiel.

The Cloud Warrior accepted his documents and put them in his blazer’s pocket. It feels like hundreds of years in the making. replied Gadiel, the ancient Healer with a subtle smile and a twinkle in his big almond-shaped eyes. I imagine you’ve done the same after your military service. You must know that after a while, three months or so, we begin to feel homesick.

Indeed, Dr. Shein. The agent wrapped up, nodding. Well, then, welcome back to the State of Israel, the Land.

Connections in High Places – Lisbon, Portugal, 2005

Kei Sato glanced through the window when the pilot announced the plane was landing. Lisbon spread its arms. The city appeared candid and transparent, sunny, and graceful. The city of the seven hills stretched across ancient remains, domed cathedrals, and red roofs, providing a view like a work of art designed and structured over centuries. The Portas do Sol, the sun gates, came into view. They overlooked ancient fortifications built and occupied by Phoenicians, Carthaginians, Romans, and Moors. As the plane began to descend, the stunning terraces of the picturesque miradouros set around the towering hilltops, became visible. It wasn’t a wonder why Eva Bosco had made Portugal her hideout.

Kei left his arrival gate and made his way through the airport’s labyrinth into the city. He didn’t have to wait for a taxi as his visit had been scheduled. As soon as he stepped on the sunny street, he spotted his contact: a young dark-haired man with bronze skin, sunglasses shielding his dark eyes from the blinding sun. He got out of the car and waved.

Welcome back, Kei. Ruben Dov, Eva Bosco’s representative, greeted Kei with an honest and strong handshake. He gestured with a hand wave for Kei to take his place inside the bulletproof car with slightly polarized windows.

Ruben drove through the narrow and ancient streets of cobblestone to a quiet side of the city. This area was reserved for solitude, lulled by the Atlantic Sea waves. After a forty-minute journey, in the Serra de Sintra, Eva Bosco’s mansion rose on the summit of a green mountain around which the ocean could be seen and heard roaring like a thousand lions.

The woman standing on her balcony overlooking the sea, saw the car crossing the gates and a hopeful smile appeared on her youthful face. It was a special occasion as guests to the mansion were extremely scarce. Eva Bosco hurried down the limestone stairs brightened by the sun filtering through the ample windows.

She waited anxiously, standing in the polished entrance hall, which resembled an avant-garde dome’s atrium. It had a glass ceiling which let the light flood in. There were all sorts of plants elegantly placed, spreading their branches wide and high, creating an indoor temple to nature. The mansion smelled of blooming flowers and sea breeze entering through the opened door.

Kei, my dear, it’s so good to see you, Eva exclaimed as loud as her refined voice allowed her. She extended her silky hands to Kei. By the workings of her special gift, Eva had the appearance of a thirty-year-old, although she was over hundred years old.

Eva, beautiful as always. Time doesn’t leave a trace upon you. Kei held her hand and kissed her cheek, regretting his comment, but trusting Eva knew it wasn’t ill-intended.

The greatest gift and the greatest curse, my dear, as you know. And as the years go by, it becomes more and more the latter. An affliction that keeps me hiding from the world growing old around me. Youth and longevity, like fleurs de mal, augurs yet another heartache, another loved one in a cold grave before me… Eva trailed off, leaving the sentence incomplete, afraid of setting in motion the end of someone she loved. She had buried two husbands, lost her daughter-in-law Flora, her son David, and several friends.

Aches that we both share, said Kei, following Eva meditatively.

I know, my dear. Our loved ones were taken from us too soon. Eva conceded, holding on to Kei’s arm and guiding him up the stairs to the terrace where they would hold their meeting. Into the light where things are revealed and not in a dark corner where evil lurks.

Well, there aren’t definitive victories or permanent defeats. As the saying goes: we gain some and lose some, whatever the situation, answered Kei, sheltering Eva’s hand on his arm.

You sound like my David. Eva smiled and patted his arm.

We grew up together. Kei smiled back at her as his recollections of her paraded through his memory. Eva was stuck in the same youthful age in which he had met her. She had cared for him when he needed a mother. Everything she provided for David, she also gave Kei in equal measures, especially two important elements: love and time.

The two brothers, Eva said, taking her place under the wooden gazebo covered with graceful grapevines and generous clusters of alvarinho grapes. She beckoned him to the seat next to her. Sit by me, please. Nothing has changed, my son; this is your home.

Kei took his place next to her.

I hope you don’t mind. Ruben is joining us for Mila’s sake, Eva said, signaling for her representative to sit across from both of them.

The housekeeper and a helper left a pitcher of cold water, three chilled glasses with a bottle of vinho verde and charcuterie as was the custom in the country.

Do you have any news about Mila? Eva faced Kei, her beautiful but sorrow-filled, honey-coloured eyes searching for information in Kei’s eyes.

Nothing. It’s as if the earth has swallowed her up, Kei answered, gripping gently Eva’s hand.

Not the earth, Kei, but Masae Norfolk. It would have been a thousand times better to be swallowed by the earth…and not only for Mila’s sake but for those who will be affected. Eva sighed, looking at the railing where she and little Mila used to stand to gaze at the ocean and talk. The scenes passed before her eyes, so real that she didn’t hear Kei’s words until his gentle touch on her hand brought her to the instant. I’m sorry. I tend to get lost in my thoughts. It’s a privilege of the lonely and old. Our overloaded minds are more eloquent than our tongues.

Kei offered her a reassuring smile. Eva was a mother to him and he knew that it was her love for him that moved her to become the most important sponsor of Cherut’s work, the phantom group he led together with Svend Falken. Eva, after burying her first husband in Peru, moved to Portugal as an ambassador’s wife. How similar and different from Kei’s real mother, Masae Nagata, she was. Masae had also been an ambassador’s wife with great potential for more. But she left everything to become Masae Norfolk, the head of the most powerful pharmaceutical multinational company in the world: Pharma-NorTech.

Well, I didn’t call you to witness my old mind’s degradation. You see, Time is at work after all, Eva said, winking and a couple of gentle lines appeared in the corners of her eyes. I just wanted to emphasize that neither you nor Cherut are alone in this quest, which is an extremely personal quest for me. Eva glanced at Ruben. As you know, it’s been a while since I have tried to infiltrate Masae’s laboratories, ever since we found out that David wasn’t dead but was working for the Norfolks.

An ambitious plan.

Yes, indeed. At first, I didn’t understand David’s motivation. Why would he abandon his wife and daughter? Then, just like you, I understood. Love has the power to move us into helpless pursuits. For the safety of our operation on my end, Eva glanced at Ruben who led a private special forces group. We’ll keep some details sealed until the right moment. I know you understand.

Of course, Kei answered, nodding at Ruben.

My granddaughter is a priority to me, as I know she is for you, Eva said. But the other reason I wanted to see you is to know how you are holding up. The blows you have received in these past years have been very painful. She looked at him filled with compassion. In a way, you have lost a brother, a sister, and a daughter. Eva studied his taciturn eyes, holding his right hand between her own. Here I am, Kei. We will always be family. Time and blood do not matter, my son. We are united by the bonds of love with which fate has bound us. Never forget or doubt it, Kei.

I know, my losses are also yours, Kei replied, carrying Eva’s delicate hand to his lips.

Do you remember the Dark Heralds poem? It’s been circling in my mind. Eva gazed at the calm ocean. There are such hard blows in life . . . I don’t know. Blows like God’s hate; as if before them the residue of all suffering puddles in the soul. I don’t know. Eva sipped her wine to wet her dried throat, then continued: They are few, but they are. They open dark furrows in the fiercest of faces and the strongest of loins. They are perhaps the horses of barbaric Attilas or the dark heralds that Death sends upon us.

Kei then recited the poet’s words, understanding Eva had unearthed these words as a way to express the sorrow in his heart: And the man . . . poor . . . poor. He turns his eyes, like when a pat calls us upon the shoulder; he turns his crazed eyes, and all that was lived becomes stagnant, like a puddle of guilt, in the gaze. There are such hard blows in life… I don’t know. Kei became quiet. Loss, pain, and suffering were universal. Heart-felt words by our dear poet César Vallejo.

Oh, Kei, you are as Peruvian as I am, said Eva, leaning back on her seat. I used to believe Mila’s poetic spurs came from David’s bohemian side or Flora’s gentle wisdom, but it was from you all along.

I’m glad poetry isn’t everything in Mila’s soul. Poets and lovers of poetry, feel too much and too deep, answered Kei, turning his gaze to the sea. But in this life, I’m afraid, she’s forced to be a Barbaric Attila.

And if she stays with Masae, she’ll be her Dark Herald of Death. Of that, I am sure. We cannot afford to lose hope or time. Eva gripped Kei’s arm; her saddened eyes fixed on him. Her voice breaking by the pain as in a prayer. We have to find her. She is a lost soul in great danger. We must find our girl and together destroy Masae’s plans of death. Eva looked at Ruben and then at Kei. This might be the last thing I have to do in this life, so there is no holding back on my part. Let’s harness the strength and wisdom that pain is carving in our hearts to find an open door and turn the tide in our favor. So what about a scientist gone astray, but finding the light?

PART ONE: REBIRTH

CHAPTER 1

Norfolk Castle – England, 2005

Alexander Lyashenko shook his head in disbelief, reading the graphs the smart machine was sending. This can’t be. He checked the machine. I think she is dead! He looked up from his tablet to Masae Norfolk who stared at him wide eyed. He turned to the new reading, and there was brain activity again. It can’t be! It’s simply impossible!

Explain to me what’s happening! What are you talking about?

Alexander double checked the information the FMRI offered. It looks like a machine at the flick of a switch; she lost her life for a few seconds. He explained, peering into Mila’s brain activity provided by the functional resonance, the most advanced version of the magnetic imaging machines. He stared at the screens displaying the ups and downs of her brain patterns like a multicolor mountain range and the sudden reset. The single red line that appeared for a couple of seconds. And suddenly, Mila’s brain was back up and running again. Alexander entered the information on his research log and saved the file before pulling away the machine. He peered into her mind with his special power which not even Masae knew he had. The woman was sitting, legs crossed on the summit of a snowy mountain. He shook his head and looked at the tablet in his hand. He read the machine’s information to cover his vision.

Masae moved from the chair by his desk to Mila’s side and using her special gift, she listened to Alexander’s thoughts and found nothing but what he had said: the woman died for a few seconds. Is it fascination or worry that I perceive in you? asked Masae, already recovered from the scare of losing an investment. She examined Alexander’s expressions as he connected the unconscious woman to the normal machines. Her eyes wandered from Mila to the young scientist’s eyes. Should I be worried about you, Alexander? Are you developing a soft spot for her in your heart?

Why wouldn’t I be watchful? She is another piece in this project in which I’m spending precious, well-paid time. Not to mention, it’s my life’s research and what I will be known for in the scientific community. Even if it’s the underground world of science, Alexander answered, standing resolute, his expensive tailored suit enhanced his height and athletic shape. He returned Masae’s stare with his intelligent, light chocolate eyes, towering over her delicate frame. But one more act of rebellion would be too much, he opened his mind and allowed her inside. It was important to keep track of her brain activity patterns, precisely for this very moment. You, see? I have an accurate time when she seems to have died for a few seconds. This is the first time I see it happening in our testing specimens. None of the others ever have a marked second in which they died, then got back to life again. Do you understand? He turned to his work, checking Mila’s plugs and feeding the catheter again. This should be great news to you. You brought this woman to force her into your image. And your wish might have become a reality. If I’m right, when she wakes up you will have a brand new being to mold to your specifications.

I see. Masae let go of him and peered at Mila, who seemed trapped in a deep sleep. A new creature with zero struggle to deal with. A brand-new life to shape as I wish. She sang softly, shuffling gracefully to the door, letting victory elevate her spirit. She had threatened Mila into compliance to go through the Neogenesis editing. It had been her life for the life of her friends. But if upon waking up, the girl didn’t remember how she got there or whom she had lost, she could very well become her daughter. Come, Alexander, let’s celebrate my third chance to create a life!

Alexander followed Masae, turning briefly for a furtive glance at the body lying on the bed. A spark of worry crossed his eyes as he closed the door. He hurried to join Masae who moved with determined steps to the elevator at the end of the hallway.

A flare of light ran through her visual pathways, a straight shot to her brain as she opened her eyes. She adjusted her sight to the lights hanging from a semi-vaulted ceiling. Although the glow they produced was soft, they burned her pupils. She blinked to fine-tuned her vision and examined the unfamiliar chamber. She shook her head gently to free her mind from the invisible fog.

From the bed where she lay, she studied every detail of the room, painting the scene on the new canvas of her mind. The large, windowless room made of brick wasn’t empty as her mind seemed to be. She saw Alexander’s large desk with its monitors still on, the chair left facing her. Beside it, there was a glass cabinet filled with shelves laden with bottles and containers of various sizes. Oddly modern in a place that resembled an old cellar.

Multiple scents filled the air and overwhelmed her olfactory epithelium: disinfectants and antiseptics combined with a strangely pleasant and familiar male scent. All of this intertwined with the subtle aroma of tea and an exquisite feminine perfume.

The temperature was comfortable and the lights warm, making the situation less terrifying.

What is this place? she muttered softly to herself. She gazed at the machines surrounding her like silent witnesses. The basement of an old institution? A cellar turned laboratory? An ancient intensive care room? Where could I be? She thought in the language her brain provided. It was an ancient language. But she wasn’t aware she knew. She searched her mind for any recollection about the event that had led her to her present predicament, but found nothing.

Persistent thoughts ricocheted quickly inside her head, making her dizzy and mentally shaky. She held her head with both her hands, trying to slow down the speed with which questions banged against the walls of her brain. What is going on? Where am I? She desperately searched for answers in her head, her eyes tracing the timber supporting the center of the ceiling in a Gothic design. Is this an institution? I must be crazy… But the static and flickering humming coming from the machines distracted her. She looked at the intravenous tube on her hand. The cable led to a bag dripping fluid, suspended on a hook. So, this is to keep me fed and hydrated… All right, my brain seems to work just fine… But… There were other thin wires attached to coin-sized metal plates on her chest and others all over her scalp and covered by her hair, turning her into a wired Medusa.

She couldn’t remember a thing and felt like one of those soulless machines around her—the spark of life that made her human wasn’t there. A strange primal sensor, an ancient preservation instinct ingrained in the back of her brain, urged her to jump out of that bed and run. Run as fast as she could, but the equally primal need to know what was happening held her back.

She inhaled and felt the oxygen reaching her brain with such force that she feared her head would explode. None of the scents provided her with any clue.

The security cameras installed in the room alerted Masae and Alexander of Mila’s activity. Each froze. Their eyes on the screens in the control room where they’ve been with some of the guards. They watched the woman explore her environment and waited.

The young woman detached the tiny neurotransmitters and electrodes fastened to her head. She pulled the wires that united her to the machines and removed the probes and catheters. Blood began to drip from the vigorous veins in her arm and hand. She turned to the convenient metal stand at her right hand. There were cotton balls, gauze, and tape. Probably from when her catheter was last changed.

She sealed the punctures by wrapping the gauze around her hand and arm.

She sat up straight at the edge of the bed and began inspecting her body under the silky, long nightgown she was wearing. She jumped off but had to steady herself, her legs weren’t ready to stand up so fast. Yet, they were strong. Her hands went up as if trying to touch the ceiling in what seemed a learned move, and then her palms went down touching the cold floor as she exhaled. Her muscles obeyed habitual patterns of movement. Her body felt powerful to her.

Aside from the amnesia, her entire body responded with great precision and strength like an athlete minutes before a race. She was so light as if she was levitating. She walked, tall and gracefully, to the most intriguing and unfitting piece of décor left in the room: a mahogany dressing mirror in which she could watch herself completely.

She approached the glass closet with cautious steps, tense at the thought of what she could encounter. She studied her reflection in the glass and scrutinized the woman returning her gaze as if meeting her for the first time. Every part was so familiar and so foreign to her. She stretched her hand to her image, touching the cold glass she wished her reflection could answer her questions. Those fiery eyes peering at her didn’t tell any story. They didn’t provide any memory or shine any light. They only expose a series of the already healing bruises, cuts, and burns around her body. She turned to study, without any recollection, the remains of the day Masae took her from a battlefield, from amongst her father and friends.

The woman shook her head and braced herself, moved by acute pain that she couldn’t reach and mend. She breathed deeply and gathered herself. She had to hold it together and find where she was without crumbling before finding the way out.

Devoid of fear and clothed in a furious need to know who she was, the young woman faced Masae, who had entered and stood behind from a safe distance. Like a lioness falling on her prey, she turned to Masae who couldn’t step back in time. The woman lifted Masae by the throat and shook her like a rag doll.

The woman felt her grip cutting Masae’s airflow but didn’t let go. It would be easy to break the woman’s trachea with a simple hand move.

How did she know all this? How did she know to cause harm? She concealed her shock behind wild anger.

Masae shook her arms, her face red from the struggle and her lungs straining for air. Her startled eyes pleaded with the young woman to let her go. Desperate tears filled her eyes. She tried to swallow the saliva lodged in her throat, but it was impossible. The young woman’s fingers held her prisoner, and her face gave no sign of slackening her grip anytime soon.

The guards, who had watched from their screens inside the security control office in the Norfolk castle, headed for the door.

Wait! Give them a minute. It’s her mother after all. If you march in, she’ll get startled and could kill her! Alexander ordered and the guards obeyed. The young woman was an experiment which the scientist was in charge of. They got back to the screens and followed the unfolding interaction with a hand at their weapons.

Put… me… down, Mila… Masae struggled to say, her voice hoarse in a dire whisper.

Who are you? roared the young woman in English, the language of the person trapped in her grip while her name echoed in her head Mila…Mila…what?

CHAPTER 2

Norfolk Castle – England, 2005

I… am … your… mother, Masae said with her gathered strength. Mila loosened her grip. Let…go…of…me. You’re…hurting…me. Masae, although on the brink of death, was beyond thrilled to see Mila’s strength and savagery.

Mila tilted her head slowly, side to side. She considered the stranger’s fainting gasps and choked words, her bulging eyes and face turning purple. It had only been a few seconds, and in one more with a simple movement, all would be over—but she let go.

Masae coughed and gasped for air until she was able to regain her balance and composure. She walked to the desk and grabbed a tissue to clean her tears. Then she smoothed her dress with the palms of her hands as if she had a wrinkle in her impeccable outfit. She ran her fingers through her long hair and tested the condition of her lungs with a deep sigh.

Thank you, Mila, Masae whispered cautiously, feeling as if Mila’s gaze was burning her. But she felt in control again. She stood upright, beholding Mila as a just born creature to be feared. The experiment was a success, although it was still too early to claim her victory. She knew she had to be careful. One missed step and she would be gone. So she waited for Mila to take the lead. Masae could hear Mila’s thoughts but couldn’t understand the language. To her it sounded like gibberish.

Mila’s head was protected by a linguistic shield that Masae could not penetrate even during the induced coma. Mila’s thoughts had bounced from one language to another, settling in one as rough and dried as the desert in which they spoke it.

Masae returned Mila’s gaze, inviting her to ask the questions she had.

Who are you, really? Mila roared. We don’t resemble each other. Who am I? Mila constrained tightly each word between her teeth.

Masae seized her opportunity to solidify her lie. She sighed and answered, rumpling her beautiful face with feign anguish. You are my daughter, Mila Norfolk, as I told you. And I am Masae Norfolk, your mother. And forgive me for our lack of resemblance. The lie flew from Masae’s lips like the truth from a saint’s mouth. Masae forced her face into a mask of sadness. There are many ways to be family. You are at home, Mila. Our home.

Mila turned her back on Masae and closed her eyes attempting to shake up the fog. She liked the sound of her name: Mila. It felt like a comfortable and warm sweater on a cold winter day. But Norfolk didn’t stir any emotion. She pressed her head between her palms, wishing to squeeze out a revelation or the truth of the situation. But showing further weakness, would be imprudence on her part. She had already put herself in a vulnerable position by giving her back to Masae. But if the woman wanted to harm her, she would have already done so.

Mila opened her eyes and turned to face the person with the answers.

What is this place? I don’t remember anything. Mila said, blinking a few times as if she had hit a wall. Mila Norfolk. It didn’t ring any bells. She examined the angelic woman in front of her and pondered the possibilities. It was true that she felt an intense connection with Masae even though they didn’t share any physical similitude. If it was true, she was her mother, she should be nicer toward her, but if it wasn’t true, then it was better to wait for more information. Mila lowered the many security layers her mind and body had built during her state of alertness. But then, why am I in this… she waved her hand, looking around the room, …this laboratory or whatever it is. This isn’t my bedroom, is it?

It’s a long story, sweetheart. Perhaps it is better that I show you rather than tell you about it,