Chương 5: Chapter 4: Forgotten Memories

Alice stared at this gargantuan gray door. She had to tilt her head just to see it in full; it was at least two, maybe even three times taller than her. Her head was level with the doorknob. Where… where am I? That door… why does it feel so familiar? She approached, her strides so small, so slow. She placed her hand beside the brass knob, and they were nearly the same size. The door truly was gigantic. What's on the other side? She turned the knob and leaned into the door with all her weight, and pushed it open.

On the other side was a giant woman sitting on the couch. She wore a plain white blouse and had long black hair and skin so pale you could mistake her for a ghost. A smudged and blurred face looked back at Alice. She barely made out the nose, the lips, and two blurry holes which seemed like eyes.

"Alice, come on." The woman patted her lap.

"I have something important to tell you." Who… who is that? Her voice sounds so familiar. Alice waddled over with her small and tiny legs. The woman reached down and grabbed her by the waist, lifting Alice onto her lap as if the little girl weighed nothing. The woman ran her fingers through Alice's hair.

"Comfortable?" Alice tilted her head and gazed at the smudged face. And then, a flicker of recognition appeared in her eyes. That voice, that affectionate touch, her cold and pale skin—it could only be one person. Cynthia, her mother.

"I am…" Alice muttered, her voice higher-pitched than she remembered.

"Good. Good. Listen well, okay? You must not forget what I'm about to say." Cynthia placed her palms on Alice's shoulders.

"What is it?" Alice said.

"You see, my dear, we aren't normal humans."

"What do you mean?" Cynthia placed a palm on Alice's chest.

"Inside here isn't the heart of a person. It's the heart of a monster, a specter, to be specific. Just like mine." Alice furrowed her brows.

"We're… we're monsters?"

"No, no. We're demihumans. I was a normal human before, but then I consumed the heart of a specter. And since you're my child, you're also a demihuman with my lineage. Though, of a higher generation."

"Generation?"

"Well, every bloodline has ten generations. We belong to the specter bloodline, but there are many out there. I'm a seventh generation, and you're a ninth. The lower the generation, the less human you'll be. You would be an eighth if your father were also of the same bloodline."

"What's… what's the difference between us and normal people?"

"Many, many things. But the most obvious is that we inherit certain abilities from our bloodlines. Like the things you read in books, things you might even call supernatural. You, my good child, don't have many abilities as a ninth generation. But maybe one day, you'll be able to advance a generation. When that day comes, I'll teach you everything you need to know."

"What… what kind of powers are you talking about?"

"The first is the ability to see and communicate with the souls of the dead."

"Like ghosts?"

"Exactly. They are all around us; they are everywhere. Sorrowful souls with no other place to go. That is why you must be careful. Once these ghosts know that you can see them, they will hurt and hunt you down. Unless you can defend yourself, it is best you simply ignore them."

"That… that doesn't sound like a good power."

"Well, at the start it isn't. But the lower the generation you are, the more they start recognizing you as their kin. And that isn't all, of course. You'll be stronger and faster. You could grow claws, and even enter the world of spirits."

"Really? You said I'm a ninth generation. How do I become an eighth?"

"There are many ways. The most common is by consuming an eighth-generation heart of your bloodline. But there are other methods. Awakenings, they call them—unnatural techniques that could forcibly mature your generation. These come at great costs; they're more like curses than anything else." Alice rested her head against Cynthia's bosom.

"My head's hurting… you said so much." Cynthia cradled the back of Alice's head.

"It's fine, it's fine. You'll understand when you're older."

"When I'm… older—" A loud ringing noise blared into her ears. Alice jolted awake with a gasp. She was lying on her bed, staring at the plain gray ceiling of her bedchamber. Her back was covered in sweat, and her arms and legs felt numb. Oh, it was just a dream. That was so long ago. Why did I dream about that now? It's not like I forgot what she said. Alice glanced at the brass clock; it was six in the morning. Ever since she could remember, she had always woken up at six in the morning. Today was a special day.

Her mother had promised to teach her how to control her soul. She sprang out of bed and looked at herself in the brass mirror. Her hair was an inch or two below her waist, and her skin was a sickly pale beneath the dim light. A little bit more and I'll start looking like a corpse, like Mother. I can't say if I'm lucky or unlucky. I feel a lot stronger since my awakening… but… Mother seems worried. Alice winced, feeling a sharp pain dig into the back of her eyes.

The colors of her room vanished, replaced by dark shades of gray and white. A figure appeared in the corner: a headless woman wearing a brown dress. She swayed back and forth like a dead tree and groaned. Just ignore it. It won't hurt you. Just a little bit more, and I can finally stop my eyes from activating. It took them long enough to decide. Alice glanced at the mirror and parted her lips, revealing a pair of sharp fangs jutting out from her upper teeth. I'm really a demihuman.

Alice closed her hand around the brass knob and halted… Her heart pounded against her chest, and a foreboding feeling boiled inside her stomach. The pain vanished. She blinked, and colors flooded back into her room. She pushed open the door and descended into the living room. Cynthia was lying on the couch, with an old leather-bound book in hand.

"Good morning, Mother." Cynthia looked up and cast a smile.

"Up early, dear?"

"I'm always up this early." Alice tilted her head like a fox. Cynthia chuckled.

"Right." She patted the empty spot on the couch, gesturing for her to come closer. Alice sat down beside Cynthia and glanced at the simple cover of the book, spelling out the title, Friends and Foes of the Church, by an author whose name she couldn't quite pronounce.

"Are you feeling alright, dear?" Cynthia lowered the book.

"My eyes still hurt when everything turns gray."

"Do you feel uncomfortable anywhere else?"

"No, just my eyes. It's been like this ever since my awakening." Alice shook her head. The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"You'll get used to the pain soon."

"And the ghosts? It's hard to ignore them sometimes. It's like they want me to see them."

"Because they do. These ghosts can only interact with people who can see them. And they have to know it themselves for it to happen. They see lower generations like me as kindred, but they still see you as human."

"Ghosts eat humans, don't they?"

"They chase sensation. Taste, touch, smell. They're lost souls, damned to wander the dead realms for eternity. Not all of them would eat you; some would… would do other things."

"Like what?" Cynthia pursed her lips.

"Bad things. But don't worry, I'm here to protect you." What can be worse than being eaten alive? Alice inched closer to Cynthia.

"Has Father learned anything about my awakening?"

"Your heart is evolving, at least that's what he said. It's currently halfway to becoming an eighth generation, and every day it's maturing faster and faster. You could probably see it yourself. The way your hair is growing longer, the way you're becoming taller. You should ask him if you want to know more."

"Is it going to be dangerous?"

"I doubt it. Your father is doing everything he can. You have nothing to worry about. You'll be back to normal before you know it."

"You trust him so much."

"He's the smartest and most capable man I know. If there's anyone in the world that can help you, it's him. In the meantime, I'm going to teach you how to control your ability. It's going to be easy, I promise." Alice raised her brows.

"Ri… Right now? Can't we eat first? I'm hungry." She patted her stomach and felt another low rumble coming from deep inside.

"It's going to be easier to learn with an empty stomach. Spirituality comes from the Ether, but it can also come from food and water. The thinner the spirituality, the easier it is to control."

"That… makes sense." Alice nodded in understanding.

"For starters, I need to make sure you understand how your soul functions. Tell me what a soul is, dear."

"It's… it's a vessel that contains spirituality, but it is also a portal to the Ether, a world of pure, unadulterated spirituality. Every living being has a soul, but only monsters, demihumans, and artifacts can use it." Alice murmured, drawing from a distant memory.

"Good enough. Now, the reason why your ability activates randomly is because of your awakening. An evolving soul is prone to expunging spirituality. And it gravitates toward the most developed exit: your eyes."

"What do I have to do?"

"I want you to close your eyes and imagine a large container in your chest." Alice shut her eyes.

"What kind of container?"

"Any. A chest, a bottle, a shelf, anything." Cynthia's voice echoed in her ears. Anything… then I suppose… Alice envisioned a large glass dome inside her chest, and within seconds she felt a strange warmth swelling inside her. Silver liquid sprang from the depths of the dome, filling it halfway. It swirled back and forth, splashing across the glass walls.

"I… I see it. And something's inside it," Alice said.

"That is your soul. The liquid is your spirituality. Remember, spirituality is the essence of the supernatural. We cannot function without it."

"What happens if I run out?"

"You will fall unconscious, and you might not wake up." Alice gulped, the dome trembling within her mind.

"But that's very rare, dear, so don't worry."

"What do I do now?"

"Imagine a tunnel connecting the container to your throat, then to your head, and then to your eyes." A tunnel? This is getting complicated. A small steel tunnel appeared right above the liquid, and it went upward into the darkness, and through the sheer will of her imagination she passed it through her throat. It then swerved and slid past her brain, and it split in two, latching itself against the backs of her eyes.

"I… did it," Alice breathed deeply.

"Now, imagine you're trying to suck that liquid into the tunnel. Breathe in, and make it swell upward." Alice took a deep breath, and with but a thought, vast swaths of liquid surged into the tunnel. As they went upward, it seeped through tiny invisible cracks. By the time it twisted past her head, only a sliver remained. With another breath, she split the stream in two, leading each one into the backs of her eyes. A familiar sharp pain throbbed at the back of her corneas.

She fluttered her eyes open and saw Cynthia smiling and radiating this faint blue light.

"Can you see me, dear?" A distorted voice bellowed from her throat. Alice quickly nodded.

"I can see you… You're all glowing."

"That's my spirituality. Every living thing emits spirituality; some more so than others. Demihumans and beasts especially."

"And… and me?"

"Even you. It's very faint for now, but your awakening is speeding up your growth."

"I… I see. How… how do I turn it off?" Cynthia grinned.

"It's very simple. Just close your eyes and imagine the spirituality leaking outside."

"Out? Like out of my eyes?" Alice furrowed her brows.

"Yes. Out of your eyes. It should come naturally," Cynthia said. Alice shut her eyes again and envisioned the droplets sputtering out of her eyes. She yelped as the pain intensified for a split second. When she opened her eyes, the world was back to normal.

"I… I did it… I actually did it." A wide grin unfurled over Alice's face.

"You did really well. I'm proud of you." Cynthia patted her head.

"That's just the start, dear. You're going to learn plenty of things in the coming days."

"Are you two finished?" Jaime called out. Alice jerked in surprise and looked behind her. Jaime stood by the hallway with his arms crossed, his silver eyes unblinking. Since when did he get there? I didn't even hear him.

"We just finished. She learns quickly," Cynthia said.

"It is as expected." Jaime gestured to Alice with his hand.

"Come with me." More? I haven't even eaten yet. But he's never asked for me before… has he?

"Go on, Alice. I'll cook breakfast in the meantime." Cynthia gently pushed her along.

"Okay." Alice stood and followed Jaime down the hallway. It has to be something very important. Where are we going? Jaime approached a plain white door and twisted the brass knob open. There? That goes to the basement. I've never been there. The door swung open to a dimly lit stairwell leading into the basement. Jaime stepped down, and Alice trailed behind. The old wood creaked beneath her steps, and only her steps. It almost seemed like Jaime glided down on thin air, hardly making a noise.

She arrived at a modest chamber at the bottom and heard the faint whir of machinery. Large cabinets, drawers, and shelves filled with weathered leather-bound books lined the sides. A wide metal table and a brass rotating chair sat in the middle. Yellowed parchments sprawled across the spare walls, depicting diagrams of men: their bones, flesh, and nerves. There were also drawings of strange crystals and orbs, and large, bulbous eyes and eerie, distorted faces.

On the far right side was a tall black-iron door, leading to God knows where. What is all of this? What kind of work is he doing down here?

"Sit down," Jaime said. Alice gulped and passed by the iron door, sitting on the cold brass chair. The sound of machinery came from beyond that door. I don't want to know what's behind there. Locked up like that… that means it's nothing I should be seeing anyway.

"What are we doing, Father?"

"A few tests to determine your growth." Jaime flicked his hand, and one of the drawers swung out. A brown leather tool case floated out and landed on the metal table. It's always strange seeing his power. How is that fair? I get to see dead people, and he can control things with his mind. With another gesture, the clasps on the side unlatched and the case opened up on its own.

Countless tools, small and large blades, scalpels, hammers, twine, cloth, as well as an assortment of vials lay within the velvet-lined interior. Oh, that doesn't look—look right at all. What kind of tests did he mean? Jaime grabbed a small scalpel, holding it with just two fingers.

"Your right hand." With a gulp, Alice extended her right arm.

"Is that going to hurt?"

"Not quite." Jaime pressed the scalpel into her wrist. Alice furrowed her brows, feeling a pain akin to an ant bite. Jaime dragged the blade down, leaving a faint vertical cut. Hardly a drop of blood trickled out.

"This will determine your regenerative abilities." Jaime wiped the scalpel with a piece of cloth before returning it to the toolbox. Alice sighed in relief. That wasn't so bad. Jaime pulled out a glass syringe with a toothed nub instead of a needle point.

"And what is that for?"

"It's to extract spirituality." Jaime grabbed and straightened her arm, pressing the toothed nub just below her bicep and along the folds of her skin.

"Fill it with your spirituality."

"Fill it? How do I do that?"

"Like Cynthia taught you. It's no different from your eyes; you just change the location."

"Like she taught me… I'll try." Alice closed her eyes, imagining a small tunnel emerging from the side of the dome within her. Through her will, it delved past the darkness and down her right arm, stopping when she felt the toothed nub. The spirituality flowed inside, spilling into the small cracks and imperfections as it made its way to the end. By then, only a few droplets remained. She winced as a sharp pain jolted up her arm. Her spirituality sputtered, vanishing as if being sucked in by something. That hurts…

The pain went away as quickly as it came.

"It's done," Jaime said. Alice opened her eyes, locking straight onto the syringe. A deep silver liquid bubbled inside the glass container, swishing back and forth even as the syringe was completely still. So pretty. But… how can I see it? I'm not using my sight.

"It's been converted into a physical state of matter: liquid." Jaime produced a glass test tube from the toolkit and held the syringe right above its opening. With a press, he expunged the spirituality into the test tube. Then he sealed it shut with a cork. With another flick of his hand, the top drawer opened up. Inside was an assortment of test tubes filled with the same silver liquid, stored within an aluminum rack. She counted twelve. And when the newest floated into its spot, it became thirteen.

There are so many of them. They're all silver too… what are those other things for? The drawer closed shut before she could question any further.

"Now let me see your hand," Jaime said. Alice extended her arm once more and squinted her eyes. The cut from before was nowhere to be seen. Her skin was as smooth and pale as a babe's.

"It's healed already," Alice said.

"It has proceeded faster than I expected. We are done here; you can go back up and eat breakfast with your mother." That's it? He's not going to tell me anything? Fine, then I'll ask.

"Do you know why this is happening to me?"

"Something has seen you. What it wants, or what it is, I know not. Not yet, at least. But it is forcibly evolving your soul and your heart, causing a critical awakening."

"What's going to happen to me?"

"As things stand, you will soon become a full-fledged eighth generation. The transformation is nothing to worry about; such things are negligible at your stage. But we will yet see if it will continue past that."

"And if it does?" Jaime paused, looking directly into Alice's eyes.

"Let me rephrase my words. It will stop at the eighth. I will not allow it to go any further." Alice averted her gaze.

"I… I see… thank you for that."

"You have no need to thank me. Now go. I still have much to do." Alice sprang to her feet and made haste for the stairwell.