Of Lost and Found

Emma knelt beside the headstone on bended knee, and gently laid her shaky hand on the edge of the cold granite slab that thrust from the freshly turned ground. She swallowed her tears, but then the images of the death came flooding back, a mental dam had burst; blood splattering her, a knife, slashing… crying… blackness, forever black… dragging her deeper and deeper…

Emma flinched and looked around. Had someone just laid their hand on her shoulder?

There was no one. Cherry, ginger and lemon leaves littered the emerald grass, and the smell of autumn was in the air, crisp and sweet, like cinnamon on one’s tongue. Tears rained down her ruddy cheeks, and her crystalline emerald eyes grew dim. Emma fell to the ground, crying beside the grave.

"Why?" she whispered between sobs. "Why did you have to die?"

Suddenly, Emma felt a firm breeze lift her up and when she looked around she found herself staring at a sun-dappled forest glen. She jumped up "What the…?"

There was no grave, no stone. No church.

Emma spun around, feeling suddenly very defensive.

Emma suddenly felt as though someone else was in control of her body and she was merely a spectator. A man, dressed entirely in black, rushed her, a long silvery sword held firmly between his gloved hands. Emma jumped up and reacted with a swift kick. He landed, sprawled, across the plush velvety emerald green grass.

She snatched up the sword and held it at his throat "What are you doing?" she demanded, voicing the very first thought to cross her mind. It was more a question she asking of herself than of this stranger.

The man looked up at her, but she could not see his eyes beneath his hood. She could feel the fear in him, and the shock. He hadn’t expected her to react like that. Come to think of it, neither had she.

Emma backed away, still breathing deeply. He stood up and took a step towards her. Emma swallowed hard. Simon. The name popped into her head, and she knew that it was his name.

"Simon?"

He froze "How did you…?"

Emma’s heart felt the icy touch of fear "I… just knew."

He nodded "Your name isn’t Emma, is it?"

She nodded "How did you know that?"

"It is?" his voice echoed incredulity and amazement.

"Yes."

"You are her. You’re the one I’ve been sent to find!"

Emma stared at him wondering why someone would be trying to find her, of all people.

"What powers do you have? Hopefully, all of Kyenan’s, but it would be even better if you had even more."

"I don’t have any "powers" to speak of."

"You… don’t?"

Emma shook her head and handed him his sword.

"Thanks." he paused and stared at her.

"What?"

"You were never trained as a warrior, right?"

"No."

He snapped his fingers "That’s a power, and a strong one, too."

Emma thought this through. It couldn’t be true, could it?

Simon pushed his cloak hood back, and Emma couldn’t help but stare. He was handsome; with ear-length sun-kissed blond hair and strange half brown, half green eyes that pierced her own emerald ones. His skin had a soft tan to it, and his faint smile made her heart leap. She’d never seen such eyes before.

"What?" he asked, sensing her gaze.

Emma looked away, "Nothing."

Simon sighed, "Are you ready to go?"

"Go where?"

"Home." He turned back to her "Where else?"

"But, I’ve never been there before."

"Yes you have."