‘In that lifetime, yes, many were lost,’ says Caleb sadly. Then I sense a smile starting to spread across his lips. ‘But Tanas underestimated the power of the Light. You see, Light is energy and, by nature’s law, energy can never be destroyed; it can only change from one form to another. Those who died that night came back in another life to bond with the remaining warriors.’

  ‘So Tanas failed?’ I say, a bud of hope blossoming at the news that my First mother and father’s souls survived.

  ‘Oh, if only!’ Caleb replies bitterly. ‘No, Tanas learned! And eventually, after many lifetimes of trying, he returned, having discovered a way to break that unbreakable law –’

  The bloodcurdling scream from within the palace sends a shudder through the row of slaves in the courtyard. Prior to that, the rhythmic chants of ‘Ra-Ka! Ra-Ka! Ra-Ka!’ were unsettling enough, but it’s the dead silence after the victim’s final scream that is most disturbing.

  I stand with the other slaves, clasping my twin sister’s hand tightly, wondering how we might escape. There are leather-armoured guards at every exit, and the Akkadian slave trader has his beady eye on all of us as he fingers the short, knotted whip in his belt and mops his brow from the intense heat baking the Sumerian city of Uruk.

  A tall, thin man in a gold-embroidered white robe appears on the steps. Thick black curls poke out from beneath the solid gold band that crowns his head, and a long squared-off beard shrouds his thrusting chin and earthy complexion. With regal grace, he descends to the courtyard. As he draws closer, flecks of blood are clearly visible on the front of his once immaculate robe.

  ‘W-w-was that slave not satisfactory either?’ stutters the trader in a flurry of panic.

  ‘Oh, he was most satisfactory,’ Saragon replies in an oily voice. The Lugal of Uruk city slowly makes his way along the row of slaves, carefully examining each in turn.

  The slave trader shuffles along beside him. ‘I-I-I can assure you, O Great Lugal, that these slaves are personally chosen by me to be of the best quality. They’re meant for long-term service, rather than … ahem … short-term duties.’ His flabby cheeks and plump lips fold into an ingratiating yet fearful smile.

  Saragon shoots the trader a sharp look. ‘It’s none of your business what I do with my property!’

  ‘N-no, of course,’ replies the slave trader, bowing low as the Lugal inspects the teeth of a muscled slave, peers closely at his rounded face, then dismisses him. ‘I merely wish to give you total satisfaction with the slaves I procure for you.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Rimush, you’ve done a fine job in rounding up these specimens, but I’m quite choosy as to who will suit my particular needs …’

  He stops in front of my sister and me. With a long, bony finger, he lifts my sister’s delicate chin. His narrow eyes, as hard and shiny as black opals, fix upon hers and a sinister smile slides across his thin lips when he sees their blue gleam. ‘I’ll have this one,’ he declares.

  My sister’s face goes pale and she recoils from the man’s touch. I grip her hand more tightly, preparing to make a suicidal dash for freedom. Our only hope may be through the palace, but that would be like entering the lion’s den itself. I look pleadingly to the slave trader for mercy. He’d shown us small kindnesses on the long arduous trek across the desert to Uruk, favouring us over the other captives, knowing we’d gain him a high price at market.

  Rimush clears his throat nervously. ‘A thousand pardons, but I really can’t sell her for such purposes,’ he announces with as much firmness as he can muster.

  Saragon raises a thick eyebrow. ‘Ah, a slave trader with morals? Don’t make me laugh, Rimush,’ he scoffs. ‘I pay you well, don’t I?’

  ‘Yes, double the going rate, but that’s not the –’

  ‘Then what do my “purposes” matter to you?’ he sneers. ‘I want her and I’ll have her.’

  Rimush swallows hard and wrings his hands. ‘But these two come as a pair,’ he says weakly.

  Turning his gaze to my equally starlit eyes, Saragon grins. ‘Ah yes. Of course they do.’

  ‘And with eyes like that they’re very expensive, mind you!’ blabbers the slave trader. ‘Couldn’t I interest you in a more reasonable purchase? One that satisfies your needs, but at a better price?’

  ‘NO!’ barks Saragon. ‘I’ll take this one first,’ he continues, indicating my sister. ‘Keep a close watch on the other.’ Then he seizes my twin’s wrist and drags her away.

  ‘Aya!’ I cry, clinging desperately on to her, but I’m struck across the back of the head with a stick. Dazed, I drop to my knees and can only watch as my sister is hauled up the steps and into the forbidding palace –

  My knees suddenly give way and I slump to the ground. Even my head rings like I’ve just been struck. Pain, anger, sadness and despair, along with a whole host of other emotions, overwhelm me.

  ‘I think that’s enough for today,’ says Caleb quickly, taking his hands off the crystal capstone and breaking the connection. He comes round and helps me to stand. ‘Gently now. I did warn you that it can be an intense experience.’

  Despite the earlier rush of energy, my body now feels utterly drained. I lean against the altar for support as tears stream down my cheeks and my heart burns with grief. I look into Caleb’s wrinkled, time-worn face. ‘What happened to my sister?’ I croak in desperation.

  ‘My apologies, Genna. I don’t always have control over what appears,’ explains Caleb, his face strained. ‘Some Glimmers surface unbidden. Maybe we can revisit that one another time.’

  ‘But I want to know,’ I begin, before my head reels and my legs buckle again.

  Caleb holds me up by the waist. ‘There’s only so much you can take in on a first Glare,’ he says gently. ‘You’ll burn out otherwise, and that’s no good to anyone. Come away now to rest and recover.’

  He guides me back towards the pyramid’s entrance and then out into the garden. Settling me on a bench under the shade of the cherry blossom tree, he returns to the pyramid to collect his cane, his limp once more apparent. I listen to the trickle of the stream, trying to calm my emotions and the torrent of thoughts swirling in my head: the blessing and burden of the Light, the brutal shock of Tanas’s first attack, the joy of bonding with my Soul Protector, the uncertain fate of my sister – the fact that I even have a sister …

  Nefertiti appears from the bushes and rubs against my legs. Instinctively I pick her up and put her in my lap. As I stroke her soft fur, the storm in my mind gradually subsides, like it always seems to do in her presence.

  Hearing the click of a walking stick upon the path, I turn to the approaching Caleb and ask, ‘Why don’t First Ascendants remember any of this past when they’re born? Surely it would help us prepare for Tanas?’

  ‘Perhaps,’ he acknowledges, sitting beside me on the bench, ‘but your awareness would also draw his Hunters to you when you’re at your most vulnerable. Besides, considering the emotions you’ve experienced just now, it’s a kindness you don’t recall all your previous incarnations. Don’t you think life would be almost unbearable under the weight of so many memories? That is the burden of a Soul Seer like me.’ He smiles wearily and pats my knee. ‘I trust we have answered your questions, Genna, at least for the time being. Now, how would you like to meet some other First Ascendants?’

  22

  With a giddy mix of excitement and trepidation, I follow Caleb through an arched wooden gateway into a large rectangular courtyard. On all four sides, fluted marble columns line a covered walkway in the style of a Roman villa. This surrounds an area of lawn and a small yet well-tended orchard. Orange, lemon and apple trees, ripe with fruit, scent the air; terracotta pots brimming with flowers decorate a stretch of lush green grass; and a water fountain gently trickles in the centre of this apparent Garden of Eden. As I look more closely, I notice a dozen or so sea-blue doors set into the courtyard’s sand-coloured walls, an open door revealing a small apartment behind; and beyond the courtyard, visible above the red-tiled roofline, rises a large dome structure studded with small, round stained-glass windows.

  Gathered in the garden, along with one or two cats, a number of people are enjoying the morning sun. There’s a white-haired old lady in a rocking chair reading to a young girl on her lap. Nearby, a mother with braided black hair relaxes on the grass, cradling her baby in her arms. A family of four sit round a wooden table eating breakfast outside their apartment. Elsewhere, two men, one bearded, the other in a wheelchair, play chess, and a younger man with straggly brown hair tends an orange tree. They all turn as one when Caleb and I enter and, on seeing me, their faces light up with smiles like rays of sunshine. The young girl jumps down from the old lady’s lap, races over and embraces me in a hug. For a brief joyous moment I think this must be my sister … but when she looks up at me with her gleaming blue eyes and I peer into her soul, I can see it isn’t her.

  ‘My name’s Tasha,’ says the girl, beaming brightly at me. Her hair is ice-blond, her skin pale as snow, and her accent, if my ears are not mistaken, is Russian.

  ‘Privet, Tasha, ya Genna,’ I reply, the language flowing as easily from my lips as if I were still the acrobat Yelena.

  ‘I know. We’ve been waiting for you,’ she replies in Russian.

  Tasha takes me by the hand and leads me into the centre of the garden. I’m immediately surrounded by these amiable blue-eyed folk who each greet me in turn. I meet Viviana, the hardy grandmother from Italy. Then it’s Thabisa and her baby son, Kagiso, recently arrived from South Africa. Next are Mr and Mrs Jeong and their son Nam and daughter Song, originally from South Korea but now settled in the USA. Then there are the two chess players: the bearded and gruff Santiago from Cuba and the cheerful upbeat Mick from New Zealand. And, finally, the long-haired, fruit-picking Fabian from the Netherlands, who hands me a fresh orange as a welcome gift. Like old friends reuniting, we hug, kiss and cry with joy. Each embrace is a warm fire in my heart.

  Despite only recently meeting these people, I feel at ease, as if I were among my closest family. I look around, wondering where my First parents and sister are, whether they too have managed to survive the countless generations of Tanas’s genocide … then an unexpected stab of grief hits me as I’m reminded of my present-life parents, now dead and gone. While they may not have been First Ascendants, I realize they still meant the world to me in this life. The image of them lying butchered on the kitchen floor causes me to draw in a hitching sob and bitter tears sting my eyes.

  ‘Stai bene, mia cara?’ asks Viviana, putting her arm round me.

  ‘Yes, I’m fine,’ I reply, quickly wiping away a tear with the back of my hand. ‘Just … overwhelmed.’

  She smiles warmly. ‘Ah, certamente!’

  I glance round the courtyard, noting all the doors. There are many more apartments than people. I turn to Caleb hopefully. ‘Are there more to come?’ I ask, recalling the large and thriving tribe we once were.

  Although he nods and grins, there’s an unmistakable sadness in his smile. ‘Yes … there are more Ascendants out there in the world. In fact, we’re expecting a couple to join us this afternoon,’ he replies. Then the bittersweet smile fades from his lips and he looks noticeably older. ‘But there’s no denying that the Light is becoming ever more diminished –’

  Without warning, Caleb lets out an agonized cry and collapses.

  ‘Caleb! Are you ill?’ I reach for his hand. ‘Is it your kn–’

  Then I too am struck by the most gut-wrenching pain and drop to the ground beside him. I struggle to breathe, a fire burning in my belly as if I’ve been shot at point-blank range. Through eyes screwed up in agony, I see …

  a shrouded figure floating before me … I can’t make out their face but I sense it to be Tanas … then I catch a glimpse of a ceiling lined with pipes, a hospital gurney and the blood-smeared blade of a surgical scalpel … Fevered chants of ‘Ra-Ka! Ra-Ka! Ra-Ka!’ resound in my ears, the ritual of the soul sacrifice at once familiar and frightening … Watchers in ghostly white cloaks encircle me … A bitter taste taints my mouth and a cloying, aniseed scent in the air makes me nauseous …

  ‘Tell me where Haven is and I’ll free you of this pain,’ promises a warped voice. ‘Otherwise you’ll suffer eternal banishment, like your Soul Protector …’

  ‘Never!’ comes my spluttered reply …

  ‘So be it!’ hisses the voice. There’s a flash of steel and pain flares as the scalpel cuts through my body and my soul, the sickening sensation of separation tearing my very self apart –

  I let go of Caleb’s hand and the intense vision vanishes. The world around me dims and I feel an emptiness within my heart, like part of me is missing and will be lost forever.

  ‘Are you all right?’ asks Fabian, helping me to my feet.

  ‘I think so,’ I reply weakly. As I shake my throbbing head clear and rub my aching belly, I try to convince myself that what I just saw was a flashback to the church crypt. But I know it wasn’t. And it wasn’t me on the gurney either. In fact, the most disturbing thing about the Glimmer is that it wasn’t from the past at all.

  Just like the dream I had of Phoenix, it’s happening right now.

  In fact, doubled over on the ground beside me, Caleb still appears to be experiencing this present-life Glimmer. He’s moaning, as if praying for an end to the pain. By holding his hand I must have somehow connected to whatever he’s seeing and feeling – although that doesn’t explain how I previously dreamed of Phoenix. So did I somehow ‘connect’ to my Soul Protector?

  Eventually the groans stop and Caleb looks up. A sheen of sweat glistens on his brow and his eyes are noticeably dimmer. ‘We’ve lost Saul …’ he gasps, ‘and his Protector, Maddy, is gone too …’

  ‘NO!’ wails Thabisa, clutching her baby closer to her chest.

  Santiago goes to comfort her in his great bear-like arms. ‘That’s not possible!’ he barks. ‘Caleb, you told us Tanas had passed from this life.’

  ‘That I did,’ replies the weary Soul Seer as Fabian hands him his cane and helps him stand. ‘Like you, I felt the Darkness lift some six months ago.’

  ‘Then how can Saul’s Light have been lost?’ questions Jintao Jeong angrily. He holds his wife Sun-Hi’s hand tight and wraps a protective arm round his children.

  Caleb grasps the lion-headed hilt of his cane, his knuckles turning white as he struggles to support himself and appear strong for everyone. ‘I’m afraid to say, his Watchers have returned,’ he admits. ‘Over the past few weeks my visions have been growing darker and more ominous. I didn’t want to give them credence, but this morning Jude confirmed that she’s sighted a horde of them in LA. I can only assume Tanas’s Hunters have been revived too.’

  ‘How can that be?’ questions Mick sharply. ‘With no Tanas, there are no Watchers, no Hunters and, therefore, no ritual sacrifices.’

  ‘Tanas is back,’ I say flatly, surprised that Caleb has only recently suspected this. Everyone falls silent, the previously joyful atmosphere of the garden now as solemn as a funeral. ‘I’ve seen his Hunters with my own eyes,’ I continue. ‘Fought them off with my own hands.’

  Tasha’s willowy body gives an involuntary shudder and she clings to Viviana, burying her pale face in the folds of the old woman’s floral dress. Fabian bows his head and Thabisa’s baby son begins to cry. Caleb suddenly looks very tired and very old. With the help of his cane, he goes over to a stone bench and sits down heavily. ‘My nightmares are true then,’ he says with a sigh.

  ‘I don’t understand how he’s back,’ I go on. ‘My Soul Protector, Phoenix, killed him in this life – killed him with an obsidian blade. He said that should keep Tanas at bay for at least a lifetime or two.’

  Caleb rests his chin on the top of his cane. ‘Well, maybe Tanas isn’t as vulnerable to obsidian as we believed. Even so, his return seems too sudden, the rise of his Hunters too swift.’

  ‘Couldn’t he have simply been reborn?’ suggests Fabian.

  ‘Of course he could,’ says Caleb. ‘But even if he reincarnated immediately following his death, he’d still be too young to exert any influence or summon his Hunters.’

  ‘I don’t believe Tanas has been reborn,’ I say. ‘One of his Soul Hunters, Damien, boasted that his master incarnated himself into another body.’

  Caleb looks up at me, his eyes sharp. ‘What are you saying, Genna? That Tanas returned into an already-living body?’

  I nod.

  ‘That’s unprecedented! Tell me, how exactly did Tanas die?’

  The First Ascendants listen closely as I recount Tanas’s attempt to destroy my soul and how Phoenix saved my life. When I finish, Caleb distractedly taps his cane on the ground, pondering a moment. ‘You say Tanas died in a church,’ he says. ‘Was there anything unusual about this church?’

  ‘Yes. Tanas had deconsecrated it with dark magic,’ I explain. ‘Black candles … spells … ancient runes … inverted crosses … He even drew a pentagram on the floor.’

  Caleb straightens up and studies me intently. ‘And did Tanas happen to die within this pentagram?’

  I nod.

  The Soul Seer raps his stick on the earth. ‘Ah! That explains it,’ he declares, rising to his feet and pacing the lawn with renewed vigour. ‘You see, the power of the pentagram could have maintained a link between his soul and the physical world. A bridge by which he could return. It’s feasible that Tanas incarnated himself into a different body on the very cusp of death, a body whose soul channel was still open. In theory, he could have taken over that soul, consumed it and occupied the body.’ He shakes his head in amazement. ‘But such an attempt carries a great deal of risk: if the body had died as he was transmigrating, his own soul could have been lost between the physical and spiritual realms for eternity.’