She wanted to run from Ibe’s beautiful face. A trembling came over her. Since her release from Isolation, opening herself up to express her feelings—to trust anyone—had been difficult. And she wondered if reaching out had been worth the effort since she only seemed to cause more trouble. Try as she did to resist the feeling, love for Ibe still coursed through her that day in the Vault.

Ibe had taken an interest in her when no one else had, on account of the unusual phenomena occurring in Elish. He gave her more advanced instruction. Consequently, they spent more time together in the Laboratory, where he showed her fixes, as he liked to call them.

During each conference, conversation flowed easily between them, although she remained aloof. Eventually, she began returning to her room directly after each encounter, where she sat and buried her nose in the folds of the dress she wore. His magic scent clung to the fabric, and she inhaled citrus and cinnamon till her nostrils stung.

Interaction between them became more synchronous. He started touching her—a pat on the hand, a squeeze of the shoulder. Whenever he skirted the table to acquire a book or scan the world, his palm rested in the gentle arch of her lower back. Often he uttered short, humorous comments close to her ear and his breath warmed her neck. And she always leaned into him.

It seemed only natural that the need for entanglement began to blossom. Yet, for all his strength—his preference for being forward and direct—he complained to friends, Students, and eventually their Master, about how Ule’s flirting made him uncomfortable.

Fierceness and intensity blazed from every molecule of Ibe as he stood next to his Student, admiring the binary star system—two tiny orbs swirling about one another in a beautiful exchange of pink, white, and red dust tendrils.

“Stay here.” His voice became more ethereal in tone as he and the Student dissolved during the start of Descension. “I deny you permission.”

Ule reeled from a child-like tantrum thrashing about within.

“It’ll be no fun,” he said, his voice fading, “if you can’t keep up with us.”

Laughter diminished into a whisper as they transformed into dust-like creatures, each creating a tendril of their own—one made of pale shades of blue and the other purple. She realized each swirling mass of pink, white, and red was a living creature, rushing about each star in an unending race.

Ibe and his Student re-formed into new tendrils many times as they progressed through several generations while interacting with the world, which surprised her. Ibe seldom transformed into something non-humanoid. He preferred the shape of his thick bowed arms, although, one time he grew extra legs to see if they might make him stronger. He found them humorous instead.

Most of her kind usually kept to their true form, which is the first shape they embrace within inception. While some chose animals, feline and canine species being popular, others chose hybrid creatures: a lion’s head on a reptile’s body or a serpent with webbed spider arms. Most, however, preferred the form of their ancestral species—humanoid.

Confident and assured, Ibe’s profound masculinity was constant and magnetic. He was older than her by hundreds of generations at least, and for that she expected more maturity from him.

Age mattered little among their kind. Once they became adults, experience defined their stage of maturity. Childhood and adolescence evolved quickly, usually the length of an eon. After that, they could live hundreds of eons if they managed their regenerations well enough.

The longer they lived, the better their chances of transcending. After the Quietus, their final death, their forms unravelled into black fine threads from which their worlds were woven, and their spirits evolved into a species who, instead of manipulating already existing energies and dimensions, created them.

Transcendence seemed unlikely for Ule. The numerous errors uncovered in Elish and her inability to seduce Ibe reflected her flawed reasoning and judgement, yet she still tried.

She gazed at Ibe every chance she could. She stood close to him, sometimes accidentally bumping into him. She learned which corridors he walked the most and made sure to frequent them. None of this, however, seemed to pry him away from his Mentor duties or the need to test the limits of his own virility. Her compliments only incurred a snort or a laugh, which was a better reaction than none at all.

That day in the Vault, Ibe’s words spun her. She wished she could extract her love and display it on a dais to show everyone its flawed and unfortunate design, to warn everyone. Instead, she had descended into Elish, where she now lifted herself from the sand, stood tall, and patted dust from her dress.

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The Forgotten Gemstone, Book One in A Xiinisi Trilogy

© Kit Daven & Eager Eye Books, 2013.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any matter whatsoever without permission in writing from the author, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review or critical article.

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, situations, and references portrayed in this story either fictitious or are used fictitiously.

Cover art by Sean Chappell, RedFracture.com.