Moyra’s Tale, Part 4

“Moyra! Moyra!” The very insistent voice floats down to her, slowly bringing her out from the darkness and she opens her eyelids that feel like lead. The face of her coworker and friend leans over her anxiously. “Are you okay? What happened? I looked over just as you fell.”

She fell? Moyra frowns as she tries to remember what it was she had been doing. “I was working on the Henderson case file, then I felt a little dizzy. My water was on the file cabinet behind me and when I got up to get it, I just…..blacked out.” She continues to review in her mind what had happened, when she suddenly remembers the dream. “How long?”

“How long what? Were you out? Maybe ten seconds. Why?”

Her friend offers a hand to help her up, and when she’s again standing and feels she won’t faint again, she leans in and whispers her next words in a conspiratorial tone. “I had a dream, and I think it was real. I met my mother…..my birth mother.”

“It’s just a dream, Moyra. You used to have those dreams all the time when you were little, remember?”

Moyra shakes her head, her hands gripping her friend’s hands tightly. “I know but this was different. I saw her, spoke to her. I’ve never dreamed in this kind of detail before. It felt real, just like now, standing here. I could touch her, feel the fabric of her clothes, feel her arms when she hugged me. And there was more…which I’m still not sure I understand.”

She could see the doubt in her friend’s eyes, but she nodded anyways. “Okay. Let’s go get lunch, and you better tell me about it. Don’t leave anything out.”

*****

The Council members all stare at him at his announcement, and their silence makes him break out in a nervous sweat as he waits for them to react. Finally, the man at the head of the table, the Patron, speaks. “What led you to such a conclusion?”

His eyes dart around, looking for someone who would be most likely to believe him. His track record here has not been stellar, so he knows it will be a fight getting them to. “I saw it in my meditation,” he offers lamely. “I saw it in a vision.” He looks around and sees a mix of emotions: curiosity, disbelief, suspicion.

The Patron of their order speaks again, pulling his wandering focus back. “What did you see? Tell us the details.”

The monk licks his lips anxiously, then begins his tale. “A figure wandering lost, half of it the brightest light while the other is the blackest black. It moves as if it’s one of the mindless undead, unaware of its own existence. Another figure approaches, its aura dark but warm. It awakens the first figure, draws it out from its oblivious state, and almost instantaneously the darkness takes over and snuffs out the light.”

The room remains silent after his last word, and he isn’t surprised to see the wide eyes and pale faces of all the men in the room, to include the Patron. The shock wears off him the quickest, and he begins issuing orders. “Gather the best from your sectors—those who have proven themselves on the hardest missions. Bring them here, let him tell them the tale. We have to find The Destroyer, and we must stop him.” When the other men scatter from the room, the Patron turns back to the monk, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You did well coming to us with this, Brother Brendan. You may become a great Reader yet.”

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