Envisioned (The Elemental Prophecy)
Copyright © 2013 by Nikki Narvaez.
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited. No part of this book can be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without the permission in writing from author. The only exception is by a reviewer who may quote short excerpts in a review.
Cover design by Mae I Design and Photography
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Interior Design by Angela McLaurin, Fictional Formats
For more information:
http://nikkinarvaezwritegirl.blogspot.com/
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The fires surrounding me were blazing—I felt as though my skin was melting from the heat of the flames. The towering buildings in this foreign city were reduced to a pile of steaming cinder and rubble. I stood there immobilized by the destruction around me, powerless to stop it. Horrific winged beasts circled around me in the black sky, like vultures searching for their next meal. In the distance, I could see giants as tall as mountains roaming the city, leaving more destruction in their wake. Somehow, all of that wasn't as unsettling as when I saw him - those startling eyes, glowing like embers, burning into me with a look of desperation that I still could not comprehend. Why did he stare at me like I was his salvation? Why did he elicit feelings of longing in me like no other? Talons gripped at his shoulders, causing him to thrash and reach in my direction. They dragged him away into the blackness of the night, and his screams penetrated me to my soul.
I woke up to the sounds of my own screaming, my unruly hair plastered to my skull by sweat, and my body racking in sobs at my lack of control. It felt like a memory given the vast number of times I had dreamt this exact scenario; I had been dreaming it for as long as I could remember. What did these dreams mean? Even though they were impossible, their constant recurrence had to signify something. Who was this man, and why did he arouse feelings in me that no other guy had come close to, even though we hadn't even met? I didn't even know if he existed, yet something deep down in my being screamed that he did. A part of me chastised myself for thinking something so ridiculous. It was just a dream; he wasn't real. Even still, another part hoped that he was real, and that one day, I would be able to give him what he so desperately pleaded for.
This is what I thought about each night after the nightmare, after he was pulled away by creatures not meant for this world. I tried talking to my dad about it, but he just said that I had always had a vivid imagination and not to worry myself with unanswerable questions. Yeah, right, like that was going to happen. The world collapsing all around me was definitely something I could not ignore. What if I was envisioning the future? Was that even possible? I didn't dare tell anyone that I considered that—they would probably throw me in an insane asylum, which is where I felt I belonged after waking up from this ongoing nightmare. I couldn't prevent the end of the world from an institution so I silently dealt with my questions. No one would be able to help me anyway.
I looked at my phone, which read 4:38 AM. Damn, I still had two hours until I had to get ready for school, but I knew there was no way I would be falling back to sleep; I never did once I awoke from my dream. It always eluded me, taunting me by making me dwell on the disturbing images from my never-ending nightmare. Most nights, I wouldn't even try to sleep, I would just read on my Kindle, immersing myself in someone else's world until I had to get ready for school. I only had a few weeks until school ended, with my birthday being on the last day of school. My best friend, Kimber, was planning something for such an “epic night,” as she put it. Graduation and her BFF's birthday—that was something worth partying for, according to Kimber. But, then again, Kimber didn't need an excuse to party, and neither did I. I wasn't a good girl by any means. I made good grades throughout high school without even trying, but I did enjoy going out and having a good time, even if Dad didn't approve. He saw me as his perfect angel, who never even had a boyfriend. That wasn't even close to the truth, but who was I to crush his dreams? Little did he know, I had lost my virginity a while ago, but I would never break his heart by divulging that information to him.
Ever since my mother had died while giving birth to me, he had put me on a pedestal. He even named me Brielle, which meant “exalted goddess.” Who could live up to that? Maybe some of the characters in the books that I read, who were still virgins at twenty-one and never had a real boyfriend until their true love magically appeared in their life, but not me. This was the real world, and it was definitely not like the books I engrossed myself in.
As I straightened my hopeless hair after showering the filth that the nightmares always left behind, I gazed at my reflection in the mirror, scrutinizing every flaw. The only part of my face that I felt was worth looking at were my eyes; they were a hazel that changed on a daily basis, seemingly with my moods. Sometimes, they were a warm brown, usually when I was upset. Other times, typically when I was happy or content, they were a golden amber, surrounded by flecks of a vivacious green. I loved when my eyes looked like that because they made me feel beautiful and exotic. I liked to think that was what got the guys' attention, but I knew it was my “blessed chest,” as Kimber liked to call it, that got the attention of the male population at our high school, my current boyfriend included. We had been dating for almost two years and he still didn't compare to the guy in my dreams - how sad was that? All he ever wanted to do was sit around with his friends and smoke pot, which was so not my thing, but I had no other options at the moment. Being with him was better than being alone. Being alone meant more time to long for the man from my dreams, and boy, was he a man. His eyes alone made me weak in the knees, but add his muscles and golden skin on top of that, and I was done for. It was as if someone had taken all the qualities I was attracted to in a guy and put them into the perfect man, all to torture me since there was no way he could be real. Dreams like that didn't come true, but I still held on to the slightest hope that he was real. That Fate wasn't playing some cruel joke on me by making me dream every night of some perfect guy that didn't exist.
I stared in the mirror, silently scolding myself for letting my thoughts turn to him. There was nothing I could do about it, so why get worked up over things I couldn't control? I looked at my phone—crap! I totally lost track of time and now I only had ten minutes to finish getting ready, and I wasn't even dressed yet! The lack of sleep and constant daydreaming were definitely taking their toll on me. I hastily threw my clothes on, a ruffled yellow tank top and a cute denim skirt before rushing down the stairs while awkwardly trying to put on my tan wedged platforms without falling. Dad was sitting at the dining table, drinking his coffee and reading the paper, his salt and pepper military-style hair peeking out over the top. His dark brown eyes looked up at me as he said, “Good morning, sunshine! How are you this morning?”