Via Zichor

By Persephone Jayne

Amethyst who has lived as a human her entire life, can no longer run from her past. By medusas cough, destiny finds her, like it or not, and now she must navigate it. While trying to shield her grown daughter from the same fate, which is hard when said daughter is loving every minute. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Hale Patton
• Release date: Jan 31, 2023
• ISBN: 9781950460380

Persephone Jayne

Persephone works from around the globe as her family explores the great wonders of this planet. She enjoys old school roller skating and follows her Moose totem into the marshes for inspiration. The Base Brats series is ongoing as she collects stories from military families. She works hard to make sure that everyone knows their story is worth being told. 'See you in the pages.'

Book preview

Creomoxxie Tales

Via Zichor

Persephone Jayne

Via Zichor is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or not, is entirely coincidental.

Hale Patton Publishing support copyrights. Copyright sustains creativity, encourages diverse voices, and promotes free speech, all of which produce a vibrant landscape of books. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any from without written permission from the publisher. For information regarding permissions please write to [e-mail]

Chapter heading art is reproduced from and used with the permission of:

© Asmodee Group. All rights reserved.

Rory’s Story Cubes is a trademark of Asmodee Group

Copyright © 2022 Persephone Jayne

Hale Patton Publishing

[e-mail]

Cover design by Persephone Jayne at MooseHaven Press

ISBN: 978-1-950460-37-3 (paperback)

978-1-950460-38-0 (eBook)

Contents

Trigger Warnings: I don’t believe there are any triggers in this book. If you read it and find I am wrong, please reach out, [e-mail]

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Authors note

Acknowledgements

1

Amethyst

Garrison, can I get you a bagel? " Riggs called.

Riggs, I think this morning needs something heartier, I replied.

The accommodations at The Ancient Huntress were better than I had expected. Taverns in our town, Old Ashton, were not the kind you stayed in willingly. Taverns in Malcoms home didn’t even have rooms at all anymore, they were strictly for drink. I missed living there. It was simpler. I never felt like I didn’t know what was going on. I always knew what to expect.

Not like in Creomoxxie. My past looming over me with every step I took? Not a great way to live. But what other choice had I been given? Born in secret and whisked away to a foster family? Yeah. I definitely made the best beverage I could from those lemons. Malcoms realm had the best sayings.

Eggs it is. The dodo eggs are cooking up well this week. Not sure what they put in the water over there. She laughed at her own joke and the twitter patted sound made me smile. Zonta Riggs was a large force of a woman. Her laugh betrayed the tiny, frail thing she used to be.

The fringed tunic I was wearing made walking an arduous task. Navigating the stairs had been particularly interesting. While I had made it down successfully, sitting on a stool also proved to be a conundrum. I scooted my bum, tucking fringe as I went and settled into my seat, placing the helmet beside me on its own stool.

Are you looking forward to rearing the parade? Riggs asked, shoving her chin at my helmet.

Do you have to call it that? I asked, my eyes rolling as my mouth curled into a smile again.

I do, my friend answered.

We met in Old Ashton while she was on vacation. Why vacation in the desert of Old Ashton? I would never understand. But then, I had settled there, built a home there, tended my hearth, and loved every minute, so who’s really the crazy one? Riggs and I were inseparable during her trip, and when she sent me an invite to the Dancing Helmet, it was too perfect to pass up. Malcom had been dead for longer than we had been married, and with Alta on her own quest, the house was unbearably empty.

It’s 'gadaal' not 'rearing', and I’m very excited about it. Honored even. I accepted the mug Riggs brought. I’d been in the tavern for three days now and she hadn’t let me pay for a meal yet… she also stopped waiting for my order before bringing a drink. She never got it wrong, though. It amazed me each time I sipped the mug. It was exactly what I had wanted. Riggs says it’s just ‘cause I was thirsty every time I got one. I was pretty sure it was magic.

Magic in Creomoxxie is why I had agreed to raise our daughter in Malcoms hometown. They didn’t have magic. It's also why we had left. When Alta started showing signs of having magic, it was too difficult to hide there. So I moved, with my then, 10-year-old daughter across the realms and back to Creomoxxie. Fearing a run in with people that would recognize me, I had thought about trying to make it to the Realm of Beasts, where people are rarely found. But settled on a human village far away from my childhood one. It would be easier at least to blend in. I used the invisibility a new location provided to help Alta subdue her magic and fit in as much as possible.

I sat back as Riggs brought a plate full of eggs and a bread slice. Digging in, I noticed little else. Riggs was right. The dodo eggs were beyond euphoric. I had no problems scooping them up and devouring them. Riggs refilled the mug, and I drained it just as a drums started up outside the tavern.

Riggs lifted the plate with the mug in one graceful motion, wiped the table and kicked at me to get going.

Thanks! I hollered as I made my way between tables and through the throngs of Realmians now trying to make their own way outside. See you after! One last wave of my hand and I lost sight of Riggs as the mob swept me out the door.

The heat of summer hit my entire body as I stepped outside. I slid my helmet onto my head and followed the drumming to the end of the street. The parade marshal, a man dressed exactly as I was, dirty helmet obscuring his face and a long, colorful, fringed tunic, waited for me. Tunic was a stretch of a word. It was a shapeless frock and was so colorful, I first thought it was a joke. The fringe hanging on the bottom hadn’t helped its case for validity. I felt better not being the only person wearing one.

You ready? He asked, shouting over the instruments now warming up around us. I nodded. Good. We’ve been over everything. You know what to do. I’m sure you’ll be great. He patted me on the shoulder and took off to lead of the mass of people now assembling in the street. I guessed around 300 people had gathered. Each one wearing a dirty helmet. Though the rest of them wore regular day clothes. I envied them, slightly.

They had blocked off the street from all non-festival traffic. Not that there would have been a lot today. The Dancing Helmet Festival drew almost the entire town and many tourists. They lined the street to see us off and would be here when we returned from the lake with clean and gleaming helmets.

The drums sounded, and my leading counterpart began his walk. I waited and filed in at the end of the great mob, dancing along with those at the back as if we had all been long-time friends, reunited for the Dancing Helmet Festival. I enjoyed this kind of autonomous connection. Being part of something, even being a significant part of it, like gadaal, without being called out for who I was? Yes. This kind of life I could handle. The kind I had been born into? Well, I’m just thankful every day that my parents gave me up, and I didn’t have to find out.

The parade danced its way through the mountains outside Tylsaa and to the lake named for the town. I’d never felt such energy and unity. The drums, the music, pounding across the valley and through my body. The movement of each separate person, individual, yet creating something that none of us could have on our own. I imagined birds flying high above and marveling at the giant shiny scaled snake wriggling its way to the lake. We must have looked magnificent. I’ve never wished so badly to fly. Then I caught myself. Be careful what you wish for. Another saying from Malcoms realm.

As the throng of people turned in front of me, following the near side of the lake to round it, a collection of people stood opposite us, staring. I can only guess what it must have looked like to travelers not familiar with the festival. I laughed at their, no doubt, gaping mouths and wide eyes as they tried to figure this insanity out.

Wait! Is that…? No. Couldn’t be. Her quest wasn’t in this realm. I danced my way closer, just to be sure.

Alta! I shouted. A figure jumped and turned toward me. I shouted her name again and left my post in the parade, running toward my daughter. The group she was with moved into action at no obvious command. They whipped themselves up and around Alta, forming a circle. Protecting her? I could still see her face, though. It was moving and contorting as if she were talking