Sevenths

Chapter One

Rayne focused on the coffee mug before her. She concentrated, the sounds of the room dropped away as the magic prickled across her skin, and rewarded her with the tremble of ceramic against the tabletop. A slight smile twitched at the corner of her mouth. She concentrated harder shoving at the cup with her mind. Nothing more happened. She sighed, dropped her elbows onto the table, cupped her head in her hands, and hid her look of defeat from both her mother and grandmother who hovered over her as she worked.

I can’t. It’s just impossible, she groaned. She knotted her fingers in the long brunette locks that surrounded her narrow pale face.

You need to let go; you are trying too hard, her grandmother stated, with an edge in the tone of her voice that sounded like pity.

You always say that. Maybe I just can’t do it. Maybe I’m not like either of you, Rayne frowned as she pushed her chair away from the kitchen table with a wooden scrape against the tile.

Rayne Mariah Forrester! The frustration in her grandmother’s tone turned the next words into a scolding. You are the seventh daughter in a long line of seventh daughters. There is no can’t! The power dwells within you; you simply need to believe in it and stop fighting us!

Mom! That’s enough. Rona put a hand on her mother’s arm, stopping the lecture.

Rayne glowered at her grandmother with piercing cornflower blue eyes, crossing her arms over her chest, and leaning back into the kitchen chair. Hurt clouded her eyes and defeat destroyed her posture. Can we call it a day? I’m tired, and all of this is giving me a headache. She looked at her mother with a pout.

Her grandmother let out a groan of frustration and sat back in her chair. You should be the most powerful of my grandchildren Rayne, and you can’t even move a coffee mug. I just don’t understand why it is you are fighting against us so hard.

Rayne flung her hands out making fists at her sides, and she charged up out of the chair in a rush of energy, Don’t you think I want it to happen? she shouted. The lights flickered several times. Rayne looked around the room with a scowl marring her face. I’m a freak! In a family full of sevenths, I’m the only one that can’t do magic! Rayne stormed off to her bedroom and slammed the door behind her.

Rayne! her mother hollered out in annoyance, as she stuck her head out through the kitchen doorway. Don’t slam the door!

Rayne’s grandmother looked at her daughter with pain in her eyes.

You have to have patience with her; it will come to her, Mom. She laid a hand on Jackie’s shoulder and gave her a reassuring squeeze.

"It’s been three years Rona; she knows everything in the Grimoires. Potion making, herbs, rituals, symbols, you name it she knows it. But the one thing that should be the easiest for her is the one thing she can’t seem to manage. You need to give her the pages."

It’ll come. If it is truly Rayne’s destiny, Mom, the magic will come. She’s a Seventh, Rona said in a soft placating tone.

I don’t want to hear it. You give me nothing but excuses. Jackie stood from her seat and gave her daughter an exasperated look. She turned away from her daughter and stood in front of the sink, staring out the window into the backyard. "You are not training her properly. She isn’t just any seventh. It’s not like when I was training you or when your grandmother trained me. She is the Seventh! It took nine generations of women to create her Rona, and you know the prophecy. Jackie turned back to her daughter leaning against the sink. You can’t ignore the prophecy, and hope it doesn’t come to be."

Rona picked up the heavy leather-bound book that was their family Grimoire and left the kitchen. Jackie followed her daughter into the living room standing over her as she dropped into an armchair.

Upon a world where magic lay dormant, a child of the Seventh line will be born to transform it. Outside of time the Seventh be, a sacrifice made to set the magic free.

"I don’t care what that stupid prophecy says. Rayne is not that Seventh. She doesn’t have real magic. Seventh generation or not Mom, there is no way she could be the one Great-Grandma Judy was talking about. If she were that Seventh, then she would have her magic by now."

You know that’s not how her magic is supposed to work! You know that all of your Great-grandmother’s prophecies came true, Jackie countered. I still believe you should tell Rayne about the prophecies. She has a right to know that she has a destiny. Show her the pages you cut from the grimoires about Vital magic.

Rona flipped her head quickly to look down the hall where Rayne’s room sat. The door was still closed. She turned back to her mother with an angry look. No! And don’t you dare either! You understand me Mother? she whispered loudly, glaring at her.

Jackie heaved an exasperated sigh and marched back to the kitchen. You can’t keep your head in the sand forever, Rona.

Rona set her jaw as she stormed back into the kitchen after her mother. She’s my daughter, so it’s my decision, she firmly replied.

Rayne will eventually learn the truth. You can’t stop this from happening, but you can prepare her for her future so that she stands a chance. I’m going home. Tell the girls goodnight for me.

Rona hung her head as she leaned against the sink and listened for the front door to close behind her mother. She rubbed her eyes to keep the tears from stinging them. She picked up the coffee mug from the table as she walked out into the living room, picked up the forgotten Grimoire, headed down the long hallway to the back of the house where the bedrooms were, and stopped briefly in front of Rayne’s door. The room was quiet. She hesitated, hand lifted to knock, but decided against it and walked across the hall to her room.

Rona set down the coffee mug to put the Grimoire away in the hope chest that stood at the foot of her bed. She checked and carefully replaced the extra pages she had hidden there, frowning at her thoughts as she shook her head.

I know this is what is best, she whispered to herself. She grabbed an empty water glass from the nightstand and the coffee mug from the bed, before heading back to the kitchen to set about making dinner for her family.

~ * ~

Rayne threw herself on her bed, reached for her ear-buds, and stuck them in, tapping the player to full volume so she couldn’t hear anything outside of her head. She ignored the rest of the world letting her thoughts run free, imagining herself with the power talked about by her mother and grandmother. The teenager rolled over on her back, her dark hair with several purple strands fanning out over her pillow. She looked up at the corner bookshelf across the room from the end of her bed, concentrated on a particular book, and thought about it sailing diagonally across the room into her hand. She felt the prickles of magic again. It trembled on the shelf, and then leaped from where it stood, into the air, and sailed toward her. Her face lit up with surprise until she caught movement near her doorway.

Ryleigh! she screamed at her older sister, yanking her earbuds from her ears. The similarly dark-haired girl was standing there peeking through the crack in the door, making the book float in mid-air with the twitch of her index finger.

Ryleigh, leave your sister alone. Don’t you have homework to do? their mother called out from the kitchen, distance muffling her voice.

I’m just trying to help Rainy, she pouted. Ryleigh opened the door wide as she floated the book back to its place on the shelf, causing the two marionettes that hung on the edge of the shelves to dance. She smiled brightly at her younger sister.

You’re not helping. You are rubbing your magic in my face! Go away! Rayne jumped up off her bed and charged toward the doorway. All of her books danced on the shelf. Ryleigh retreated with a squeal and a giggle. Rayne felt the tingle of magic coursing through her body as her sister shoved her backward. She growled in frustration and slammed her bedroom door shut again; her mother’s scolding unintelligible through the walls. She leaned against the door and slid down its length until she was sitting with her head on her knees and her arms wrapped around her legs. Tears slipped down her cheeks. All she wanted was to be like the rest of the family. Why did she have to be so... so... normal?

She wiped away her tears and stood up, shaking off the last of her self-pity. Pulling an old heavy leather-bound volume from her bookshelf; she curled herself into a comfortable position against the padded headboard of her bed and set it on her lap. It was a dusty looking, well-worn tome of stories about the Sevenths that had come before her, aptly named The Book of Sevenths. She opened its cover and read the first page for the umpteenth time, letting the words wash over her. The handwriting felt like the voice of an old friend.

At the beginning of time, all things existed. That is to say, magic existed, all things magical. Man did not question the reality of the unknown; they feared it. Beings of greater power existed, and made the earth shake, the sun and the moon to appear and disappear each day, the seasons to change, and all things good and bad came from them. As man grew up and became familiar with the world, he also grew jaded toward the nature of that world. The rain became rain, wind was just wind, dragons and unicorns were figments of the imagination of children, and the world became a smaller, less magical place. However, some know the truth. As the years continued to march forward, their numbers dwindled. There is one child, however, born once every nine generations, who depends on this knowledge to survive. Likewise, the world can’t survive without them, as each child is born to keep the balance between all things magical and non-magical, good and evil, light and dark. They are known as the Sevenths for they are the seventh generation seventh born children within their families. Each carries the greatest of all magics, and each can control the world around them. They must keep balance in the world, or we will not survive.

Rayne ran her fingers over her great-great grandmother’s handwriting; the same grandmother that had been the fortune teller/medium in her day. Great-Grandma Judy had put together all the stories and then added this preface knowing that the generations of Seventh born women to come would read them.

Rayne knew she was a seventh generation Seventh. Seven generations of women came before her, each the seventh daughter of her mother. However, she had read these stories dozens of times, and none of them mentioned coming into their powers. She loved them nonetheless and found solace within the pages of this tome, but she wanted to be included among them. She wanted to be a heroine like Nadya the Romani, Helena the Oracle, and Cliona the Healer. She wanted a name. She turned the page and stared at the drawing of the Oracle. The woman looked like a Greek statue dressed in robes and laurel leaves. She had a child-like beauty. Turning the page once more, she began Helena’s story. She pulled up her knees, scrunched herself into the pillows on her bed, and whispered the first lines aloud.

The first of these Sevenths was born into the world during the late seventh century AD. Though no one knew it at the time, her story would become legend, known as the Pythia, Oracle of Delphi…

~ * ~

She was Helena the Oracle, the First of the Sevenths.

Rayne closed the book. The end of Helena’s story only felt like a beginning to her. She wanted to know what happened after. She knew it was something big and important. Helena was a Seventh. Rayne wondered if there were more books out there somewhere in the world that told the rest of her story. What did she do after leaving Delphi? Did she find happiness? Love?

The knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. Ryleigh popped her head into the room once more.

Mom says you get to set the table tonight. Dinner is almost done.

Rayne nodded putting the book back on the shelf, and followed her sister out of the room, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was missing something. She vowed to spend some time looking up more about the Pythia and the Oracles of Greece and Rome.

Chapter Two

Jadugaar listened to his father. In the two decades he had been alive, he knew certain things to be true. The sun would always set, the sands would always shift, and his father would never get right to the point if there were a story to tell.

And this one my son, I found in a small shop in Cairo...

Jadugaar tuned him out again, feigning interest in his father’s hobby. He never really understood his father’s obsession or why if these things were so important to him, he kept them hidden in a locked room away from sight. He was hoping that the lesson his father meant to teach him would be a new magic. Jadugaar was his seventh-born son of the Sultana and the seventh generation in the family. A strong line of Persian men came before him, and each seventh had been a sorcerer. Jadugaar was the most powerful of them all. Even still, his father was Sultan of the realm and treated him no differently than he would treat one of any of the other multitudes of children he had sired, something that occasionally galled Jadugaar.

And now to the reason I have brought you here today, the Sultan was saying. Jadugaar tuned in again. I have found another vessel, a lamp. It is in the far southern corner of Persia, my son, and I wish you to retrieve it for me.

This is what you pulled me away for Father?

Watch your tone with me Jadugaar, you may be a prince, but you are still my son.

I’m sorry Father, Jadugaar responded immediately. Where exactly am I headed and what does this lamp look like so I will know it when I see it?

The Sultan smiled and described the item to his son.

May I at least port there? It will save many days travel.

Why else do you think I asked you?

Jadugaar wanted to say something rhetorical in response but held his tongue. He took the information given him and left his father to play with his collection. It didn’t take long to draw up the porting spell. He gathered the sufficient coins he would need to purchase the lamp and was gone.

The air was dusty and dry in this region of Persia. Jadugaar had appeared outside of the town so as not to draw extra attention to himself. His father was not the ruler here. Any trouble he got into, he would have to get out of on his own. The shop was easy to find, as it seemed to be the only one selling old lamps and vessels for oil. He approached the shop owner and haggled for the price of the item he wanted. As an afterthought, he decided to pick out something for Vashti as well. He asked the shop owner if he knew a decent jewelry maker in the area and the man offered up some of his wife’s work. Jadugaar smiled. No doubt, he would pay more than what it was worth, but the man would also keep quiet about receiving foreign coin within the town this way.

After purchasing a pair of dangling earrings - he thought Vashti would appreciate them - he wrapped the lamp in a linen cloth as his father had instructed and stored it in a leather pouch strung around his neck. He bid the man a good day and walked back out of the town. Once he was out of sight, he ported back home again.

He returned to his rooms and cleaned off the dust from his travels before looking for his father. He also sent word to Vashti that he would like her to visit him in his rooms after the evening meal. Of late, she was one of his favorite concubines. She had a brain in her head and to Jadugaar, that was what made her the most appealing. Unlike his eldest brother, no one expected him to marry for anything but love. As the Seventh, his place would be here next to his father as his advisor.

Finally ready to give his purchase over to his father, Jadugaar sought him out. Oddly enough, he found the Sultan in the sorcerer’s workspace. The Sultan did not visit here much. It was Jadugaar’s sanctuary in the palace. It gave him a place to practice his magic uninterrupted. His father was sitting on a rug propped up by pillows reading over a large tome that Jadugaar had not seen before. He looked up immediately when Jadugaar entered the room, and his eyes lit up like a young child with a sweet.

What are you reading father?

These are my books, he replied setting his hand upon the stack in front of him on the rug. While I have collected all these books on magic practices over the years, again he motioned with his hand, this time encompassing the whole of the library behind them both on the wall, some have been handed down to me through our family. This book is one of those. It is about some of the darker magics, and that is why I have never given it to you. Better to not tempt wickedness until you were old enough to understand the need for balance.

He handed Jadugaar the tome. The cover, if he was not mistaken, was human skin. Jadugaar set it on the floor in front of him not liking the feel of it in his hands.

Yes, my son, there are many things that are unsavory in this world. We should learn what we can from them all, no matter how reviled they may be to us. The reason I have brought this to you today is that it is time for you to take over my task. You see, my boy, those vessels, lamps, and jars, I collect are more than just what you see. Each contained Djinn at one time. I know you have heard the legends of the Djinn, and I assure you that they are very real. Djinn are terrible, tortured creatures that were once magical beings. Its soul is captured and imprisoned within the vessel for eternity to serve whoever owns the vessel.

Do you mean to tell me that you...?

No, no, of course not, I was tasked by my father as he was before him to release the Djinn from their imprisonment. Once set free, the being inside the vessel will return to its original form and the time it was imprisoned will catch up to it. For most, this means certain death. But for all of them death is preferable to a life of torment and servitude.

The Sultan turned the pages of the book to a particular chapter. These pages were well worn with use. Shall we begin?

~ * ~

Jadugaar finished shielding the workspace so that the Djinn could not escape until they had released it from the vessel. His father had warned that some of the Djinn could be tricksters and had gone mad after being imprisoned for so long so they would make it difficult for their masters to control them at first. Ultimately, the master would make his wishes; the Djinn would do as it was tasked, and return to the vessel.

The Sultan sat on a rug in the middle of the workspace with the lamp on the floor before him. Jadugaar joined him from the other side. The book with the spell sat beside him.

Do as I say.

Jadugaar watched his father.

Open the lamp.

Jadugaar removed the lid that would open the lamp where oil would have been poured for its traditional use. Nothing happened. In stories they rubbed the lamp, isn’t that what Aladdin had done? He grew impatient with his father and swiped at the side of the lamp.

The Sultan looked annoyed by his actions. Read the first line in the book son.

Jadugaar frowned and read the archaic Persian aloud. I call forth the denizen of this vessel. I am your master.

Dark olive green smoke slowly began to pour from the lamp swirling around both Jadugaar and his father. It took on the form of a man in olive green robes, though the robes never completely solidified around him, they swayed, and swirled around his body.

The man was shorter than he expected, not the imposing figure he’d imagined. In fact, the Djinn looked like the Sultan.

Why do you mock my father by wearing his face? Jadugaar demanded believing it was a trick.

This is not your father’s face you look upon, but my own countenance Master.

Jadugaar felt anger beginning to boil beneath his exterior. Let’s get on with this then, he said pulling the book closer to him again.

The Sultan had gone unusually quiet and thoughtful. Wait… What is your name Djinn?

I have been called many names over the many years of my imprisonment, the Djinn answered.

Yes, but what were you called before you became Djinn?

What does that matter father? The Sultan silenced him with a look. There was a story I remember from my childhood. My mother used to tell it to me at bedtime. I always believed it was her way of telling me to behave when I used my magic, or bad things could happen to me. He looked back at the Jinni that was wearing his face. What were you called before you became Djinn? he asked again.

The Djinn was silent.

Jadugaar was losing patience with all of this. He wanted to release the thing and be done with it. Answer him, he commanded.

I was called Prince Behnam, seventh son of the first Sultan of Persia. My father was called Jahangir.

The name struck a chord with the Sultan. He jumped to his feet and looked intently at the Djinn. Jadugaar, meet your great-great-great-great grandfather Behnam. He was the first seventh born with magic in our family.

Jadugaar looked up in shock from where he still sat. He finally stood and looked back and forth between the two. It was an uncanny resemblance.

The family believed you to be dead Grandfather. After you had been taken into servitude, the family searched for you. The stories were told that your lamp had been destroyed before your family’s eyes.

The Djinn looked sad. He moved to pace the length of the room. He didn’t walk so much as glide, as if he still were a man walking naturally but not, at the same time.

It is true that my family watched a lamp being destroyed, but it was not my own. My master forced me to do his bidding and did not wish the Sultan to come after him, so he made me destroy a lamp similar to my own.

Well, this is a good day then. We are going to release you finally from your prison.

It will mean my death, but I am grateful to you for this thing. I would only ask one favor of you first.

Jadugaar looked at his father and shrugged. I do not see why that is not possible. What is it you wish?

Behnam laughed at the inadvertent slip of his great-grandson. I would like to live as a man again for just one day. Show me what has become of our world and then I will be ready for rest.

~ * ~

After letting the Jinni roam free throughout the palace, there was a feast set in his honor. Behnam was given everything he desired, and they spent many an hour telling him about the family and how they had all grown, finally landing on the subject of Jadugaar being the Seventh generation of seventh-born.

Behnam’s eyebrows lifted with curiosity. Have you lived the prophecy then? he asked. Have you learned to time walk and brought the Oracle of Delphi forward?

Jadugaar gave him a confused look.

Behnam turned and looked directly at his grandson. Give me your hands. Now you must use one of your wishes.

I have no need for anything. Besides, don’t wishes come at a price? You are family; I will not treat you this way.

You do not understand, child. It is not something I can tell you directly unless you wish it of me. I have long forgotten the words and the spell, only that the Seventh generation was destined to do this thing.

The Sultan nodded at his son. Jadugaar sighed and gave in. All right. I wish to know exactly what the prophecy said about me.

"Forth comes the Seventh generation of seventh born sons from the loins of Daya receiver of the prophecy. He must learn to walk across time, to begin to fulfill his destiny. It will take power the likes he has yet to wield. Once spoken, this spell will bring him to the Oracle, who has seen this prophecy. He will carry her across time with him to Persia so that together they will save us all. Speak the words Amoveo Tempus Helena Oraculum Delphicum."

The Djinn dropped out of whatever trance held him and he smiled at his grandson. Perhaps this was always the purpose I was to serve. I have passed on your destiny. It is time now. I am ready to move on to the next world.

~ * ~

The following morning found Jadugaar still up and pacing his rooms. Vashti had come and gone with her gift. She had tried to thank him for in her usual ways, but his mind was too preoccupied to give her the attention she wanted. As soon as he heard the servants stirring in the hallways, Jadugaar went to find his father. It wasn’t hard. He had stayed up all night talking to Behnam about the family in Jadugaar’s workroom where the lamp still lay.

Both man and Djinn looked up at him as he entered and sealed the room behind him again.

You make that look so easy, Behnam commented. I remember how much I had to struggle to learn even the most basic of spells. Of course, that was before, he concluded brandishing his metal cuffs of servitude.

If you are ready then father, I believe it is time to let grandfather feel true freedom again.

Jadugaar sat across from his father, same as before, and read from the book. The spell was not long, but it had to be said in the proper order. The cuffs at Behnam’s wrists began to fade away until they were completely gone and he was free. His human legs solidified under him for a moment and then Behnam stumbled forward. Gray hairs sprouted quickly at his temples, and the wrinkles in his face grew heavier as the years caught up with him.

Thank you! he whispered hoarsely before laying down on the floor no longer able to support the weight of his body. Please, there is one last thing you must do.

Behnam was looking at the Sultan. It is noble that you have been releasing Djinn from imprisonment, but you need to destroy the vessel so that it may never be used again to trap another. That room you have. You must destroy them all. Promise me.

The Sultan made his promise and leaned forward to close Behnam’s eyes as the last of his light left them. His body crumpled to dust and left both men looking sad.

Will you take care of the ritual?

I will collect the dust, and we will put him with the rest of the family as is the tradition.

Nothing more was said about it. The family prepared for and went through the rituals necessary for a family member’s spirit to move to the next world. Three days later as they were standing watch for the last time, Jadugaar felt it. He cried out and fell to his knees. Some of the family took it as his signs of grief, but Jadugaar knew it to be much more. Something magical had just happened. Something had changed, and he needed to find out what.

He could feel it. It pulsed in the distance, but he could feel it even from the palace. He had walked out into the sand later that day and discovered something so disturbing he didn’t even have the words for it. It went on for as far as he could see, though not visible to the naked eye, he had long since learned to use his magical sight to follow the flow of magic in the world around him. This made spots more powerful than others to do spellwork. He had one such place under his workroom. It was why he had chosen it.

This thing, it was something altogether different. It was a complete absence of magic. A darkness that shaded the magical world. It terrified him more than he would ever admit. He thought again of the prophecy his grandfather had given him a few days before. He was meant to save the world. Moreover, to do that he would have to walk across time and bring forward an Oracle. Having scoffed at the thought that he had a destiny, he had ignored Behnam. Now, he saw the truth of it all.

Chapter Three

Hey Rayne, wait up, Sarah Masterson called, breaking into a jog to join her dark haired friend. Sarah and Rayne had been best friends since elementary school. No one understood why since the two appeared to be complete opposites. Sarah was a full-bodied goddess type; at least that is how Rayne would describe her. She was pretty, smart, and outspoken. Sarah was class president and on the debate team. She was one of those people usually listed as ‘most likely to’ though what she was most likely to do was yet to be determined. Rayne, on the other hand, considered herself to be mousy and pale and more on the skinny side. Though their peers considered both girls popular, Rayne never understood why. Sure she was good at sports and team captain of the basketball, she had good grades, and never gossiped about other people, but was that all it took?

Are you going to help out with the Halloween Ball again this year? Sarah asked, adjusting her bag from slipping off her shoulder.

Rayne frowned. Halloween was her eighteenth birthday. Of course, in her home, it was quite a bit more than that. Samhain was a major holiday. If she didn’t help and go to the dance, her mother and grandmother would expect her to help at home. Every year, her family would put up the biggest Halloween display in town. By the time everything was done, it did look like she lived in a house of horrors. However, it was after the trick-or-treaters went home that things got less commercial and more traditional. Every year her grandmother would lead the circle ceremony to celebrate those that had gone before them. Afterward, they would have a huge meal with settings for the spirits of the family and celebrate her birthday as well. All of her sisters would come home just for the celebration every year.

"Yeah, I suppose so; it gets me out of being stuck at home. But please tell me we don’t have some lame theme again this year. The