Amor Eterno: A Historical Fantasy Romance, page 1
Copyright © 2019 by Mara Lynne
All rights reserved. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in, or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known, hereinafter invented, without express written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.
Typewriter Pub, an imprint of Blvnp Incorporated
A Nevada Corporation
1887 Whitney Mesa DR #2002
Henderson, NV 89014
www.typewriterpub.com/info@typewriterpub.com
ISBN: 978-1-64434-016-5
DISCLAIMER
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. While references might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
AMOR ETERNO
MARA LYNNE
Table of Contents
Prologue
Part 1
Chapter 1
The Inheritance
Chapter 2
The Caretaker
Chapter 3
Mysteries of the House
Chapter 4
Message in Fresh Ink
Part 2
Chapter 5
The del Fierros
Chapter 6
A Daughter’s Run
Chapter 7
The Hole in Time
Part 3
Chapter 8
Behind the Pen
Chapter 9
Delving in Tiago’s Secret
Chapter 10
Surprise from the Heavens
Chapter 11
Maiden of the Mountain
Part 4
Chapter 12
Into a Lady
Chapter 13
Holocaust in the Field
Chapter 14
A Secret in the Heart of the Forest
Part 5
Chapter 15
Beyond the Horizon
Chapter 16
The Bastard
Part 6
Chapter 17
The Drawing
Part 7
Chapter 18
One
Chapter 19
Flare
Chapter 20
Feud
Chapter 21
Poisoned
Part 8
Chapter 22
The Flower Festival
Chapter 23
By The Riverbank
Chapter 24
Harayans
Chapter 25
Into the Cell
Part 9
Chapter 26
Warning
Chapter 27
The Sight
Chapter 28
Reincarnates
Chapter 29
Meeting at the Old Tree
Part 10
Chapter 30
Eclipse
Chapter 31
The Sword Landed
Chapter 32
Under the Moon
Chapter 33
At First Sight
Chapter 34
Bulan Listens
Chapter 35
Two Worlds, Two Gods
Chapter 36
Breaking the Walls
Chapter 37
The Seedling of the Curse
Chapter 38
Duty Calls
Chapter 39
Unveiling
Chapter 40
The Clash
Chapter 41
Deep Down
Part 11
Chapter 42
The Enlightenment
Chapter 43
The Graves
Chapter 44
The Pearl of the Orient
Chapter 45
Torn
Chapter 46
The Choice
Chapter 47
Memory
Chapter 48
Fourth
Chapter 49
Remains
Epilogue
To my Mom and Dad,
whom I love the most in this world.
FREE DOWNLOAD
Get these freebies and more when you sign up for the author’s mailing list!
maralynne.awesomeauthors.org
Prologue
The wind raged against the nipa leaves that made the roof of the house. It was after the sun had kissed the floor of the earth that the air got lonely and chilly. Soft music came out from the flute of an almost emaciated old man, who was sitting on the footsteps of the stairs. It accompanied the mellow gush of wind. Meanwhile mothers in the village busied themselves preparing a hearty dinner for their families.
By the window stood an elderly woman wearing an ankle-length skirt and a thick rough elbow-length sleeve blouse. She watched the solitary moon shine in the sky.
“When will it happen?” asked another woman who just entered the room that was walled by thick timber. She was slightly thinner, but her hair was as gray as the old woman’s near the window.
“Very soon.”
“Is it going to be different this time? Can we claim victory this soon?”
“I believe so,” answered the old woman as she trekked toward the middle of the room where a small wooden table was resting. She sat just beside the table in a squatting position on a woven mat that was lying on the cold wooden floor. “We can’t let the curse change the course of time. We have all been waiting for this for centuries. Today is the best time to fulfill the prophecy.”
“What did the old priestess say about this? Have they found the warrior?”
“She has Cahaya, while I have my eyes on one man. I just need to be sure that he is the one.”
“And the stone? Have you found the stone, Manang?” asked the thinner woman while pouring green concoction with an obnoxious smell into her cup.
“No,” she answered with a shake of her head. “I don’t know where it is, but my instincts are telling me that it is being guarded. I just don’t know where to look for it.”
“We will need it to break the curse. Everything is useless without it even if we find the warrior.”
“I have to travel back there once in a while to gather news from the old priestess. We have to keep our hopes high that she finds the stone.”
“Then you have to hurry. The warrior’s blood must be shed before the stars align. We can’t miss the day, or we’ll have to wait for centuries for another rebirth,” said the woman whose eyes narrowed and darkened. “This will become your endless pursuit, Manang. This won’t end unless we become victorious this time. I know you are tired and you’d love to see your sister again.”
“We have a second option though.” Manang said with a smile. “We still have the present.”
But in her mind, she knew she couldn’t go forward with the present, and it disappointed her. Two chances; neither of which she did not want to waste.
The thinner woman sipped her concoction and gulped a large volume of air after she saw a remarkable sign of hope on Manang’s face.
“I commend you for using your powers to protect the world and to fulfill the prophecy. But I’m afraid using two rebirths is quite a danger for you, Manang.”
“I do not worry over losing my powers. It was bestowed upon me by Bulan to correct the mistakes of the past. By the time I lose them, the warrior will be gone. The prophecy will have been fulfilled, and the curse broken.”
Flash!
The other woman held onto the edge of the table as her face grew pale. The Sight had just warned her of an impending event.
“Do you see anything?” Manang asked her anxiously as she leaned forward, knocking the cups and the teapot off the table.
“A boy.” Her voice was dead and dull. Coldness stroked her limbs and spine. This happens whenever the Sight came like a flash. She wavered. “I can hear him laughing. He sounds so happy. Poor little one.”
“You see the warrior?” Manang moved to the other side of the table and put her arm around her trembling friend.
“Is he the warrior, Manang?”
“Is he?”
“But he’s… just a child.”
“What else do you see?”
The visions kept on coming and it became more difficult to control.
Cars rushed to avoid traffic. Two adults listened to this funny small box in front of them that talked about a storm coming into the city undetected by any weather station in the country. A little boy around five was tucked in the back of the car, looking outside the window and watching other cars pass by. He looked forward to getting on the rides that he kept asking the lady at the front seat how long it would take to get there. But they did not pay attention to him. They were both glued to this strange box.
The little boy shrugged his shoulders and went on watching the cars speeding. He did not even bother to wonder how the dark skies got angrier each time lightning lashed. The man who had the steering wheel pressed on the gas accelerator, overtaking others behind. It was smooth and fast at first, but something went wrong after a couple of minutes.
The car st
“Son!” the woman reached for his hand. She pulled the seatbelt and made sure that he was snugly tucked in.
“What’s happening, Mommy?” he asked as he marveled at his mother’s eyes.
The woman did not say a word. Her grasp tightened as they came close to the slowing truck carter. Rain torrentially poured and hit the windshield like it was about to shatter.
“Manang!” She grabbed the old woman’s arm and said, “You must save the child! He shouldn’t die this way…”
“Die?”
“Yes.”
The old woman moved her head sideways. Her voice was absent of panic or even remorse. “He will be unharmed. The curse will save him.”
Part 1
Chapter 1
The Inheritance
“Why do they call me bad luck, Grandpa?” he cried one afternoon after returning home.
His kind grandfather sat on the stone stairs beside him and hung his arm around the boy’s shoulders, and answered with a warm smile, “You are not bad luck, Xander. People just don’t know you. You are a very sweet and loving kid. If they know that, they will love you.”
“But they avoid me…”
“Then you must not stop being good to them until they realize who you really are.”
“The kids are afraid of me. They said I bring disaster to the village. They said I am a monster because I survived the car crash…”
Grandpa embraced him.
“It was a miracle. It was God’s doing that you were saved, and the disasters are also from God,” he said. “He made them for us to be better occupants of his kingdom.”
He looked straight into his grandpa’s eyes. His nose bridge was high, and his lips were thin. He was losing hair at the top of his head, but his mustache still grew.
“But they say that our family is a useless guardian of the shrine. We let the shintai be stolen from the temple. So, the gods are angry!” he said curiously.
“That was a long, long time ago! And a lot of shintais had been stolen, too. It did not just happen in our place,” Grandpa explained. “Natural calamities don’t necessarily come from the loss of a shintai.”
“But without the shintai, Kami will never protect the village!” A look of worry descended on Xander’s face. “People think Kami sent me here to bring misfortune!”
His grandpa chuckled, his face turning red with suppressed laughter.
“You have too much of your grandmother’s stories!” He laughed. “You will make a fine guardian of the shrine!”
“You’re joking. Right, Grandpa?” Xander’s eyebrow raised.
He winked at him. “You are still a guardian of the shrine even without the shintai. That has been our family’s task for centuries. Our ancestors were great warriors of the Sun God. Did your grandma tell you that?”
He shook his head. “Only how we got the shrine from the imperial family.”
“Well, our ancestors, centuries and centuries and centuries ago, were imperial warriors whose duty was to protect the emperor who was a descendant of the Sun God. When the thirteenth emperor died, he gave his imperial sword, the Kusanagi, to his favorite warrior, Kazuma. The Kusanagi was a gift from the Sun God to the thirteenth emperor for successfully winning wars against the neighboring tribes and for acquiring vast lands.
“When emperors die, they become kamis or gods, and their spirits dwell in an object of their choosing. The sword became a shintai that houses the spirit of the God of Conquest, Hamichan, who was the thirteenth emperor in person.
“You see, the emperor was a valiant, cunning, and ambitious man. He liked to go to places, which he could dominate by force. And as for Kazuma’s duty to protect the sword and to fulfill Hamichan’s wish, he traveled all over the world to find lands, which he could conquer in the kami’s name. He brought with him the sword.
“For quite a time, Kazuma’s family heard that he had been in the south and had subjugated kingdoms. But years after years, they stopped hearing from him. He never returned, and that is how our shrine lost the sword and the protection of the kami.”
Xander’s eyes marveled with awe.
“Had Kazuma returned, we would still have the sword, and this village would have been bigger and mightier than any territories,” added his Grandpa.
“Is it Kazuma’s fault why people hate us?”
“I honestly think it’s the reason.”
“Why didn’t he return, Grandpa?”
“Nobody knows. Even our ancestors could not answer that question.”
“Did that really happen, Grandpa?” He tugged his grandpa’s sleeve to take his eyes away from the setting sun on the horizon.
“It is a myth, Xander, but it will not hurt if we believe.” The old man faced him. “After all, Kazuma was our ancestor, and we came from him.” He directed his grandson’s gaze back to the setting sun.
***
His eyes opened, and his pupils dilated. A chaotic blizzard seemed to have almost blinded him. After blinking his lids a couple of times, he realized that the unknown white spots were just artifice created by the luminous light from the ceiling.
Big drops of sweat plummeted from his forehead and wetted his collar.
That same dream again.
His heart pounded like the thunders outside his window in that dark field of raging sky.
It was just a dream. He made himself believe.
Rough air came out from nowhere and lasted for several minutes. The aircraft’s body started shaking. Children clung to their mothers and cried their hearts out. Some adults held their breath and tightly gripped their prayer books and rosaries.
It was just turbulence. It would not cause the wings to fall off or break the plane into half or crash the aircraft into the open sea. Nevertheless, he still held onto his own chair and put on his safety belt per the flight attendant’s instruction.
Once the aircraft was stable again, coffees were distributed through trolleys and handed out by petite stewardesses in skimpy blue uniforms.
“No, thanks,” he calmly said to the flight attendant who kept her poise despite the turbulence that still rocked them from time to time.
He just had no appetite for anything at the moment, not even for a cup of hot coffee. He was still barely recovering from the same dream that had been hunting him for several days now.
He hurriedly reached for his backpack and pulled out his sketchbook. His fingers trembled as he searched for his drawing pencil before it fell off his bag’s pocket. The pencil rolled horizontally on the floor for a couple of seconds then stayed under his chair for the rest of the time. He tried locating it with one hand, tapping the carpeted floor for a thin elongated object with a sharp end.
Then, a huge and loud thunder rattled him. His heart jumped off its place spontaneously. The thunder momentarily shushed, and his heart recovered from that shock, but the squeaky tingling sensation on both his ears deafened him for a while.
The aircraft quaked again, stronger and longer than the first one. Children screamed. The flight attendants scampered to their chambers with anxiety written all over their faces and anxiously fastened themselves into their chairs.
He turned to his window and saw dark, heavy nimbus clouds moving quickly and bumping each other. Lightning appeared every after one strong roar from the angry heavens. There was no news of storms when he left for his flight.
He clearly remembered what the weatherman said, “Bright and sunny!”
When everything seemed back to normal—the children a bit calmer, the aircraft more stable, and thunder and lightning less intense—he resumed searching for his drawing pencil. He got it in a matter of seconds. Then, he immediately opened his sketchpad and started sketching against the thick paper. Only by drawing could he calm his nerves. He must draw what he dreamed about, or it would continue to irk him.
After a while, the sky cleared.
The lightning and the scary thunder were completely gone. Anxious cries of children waned down, and the passengers calmed down. The flight attendants unfastened their seatbelts and started to roam around to check on everyone’s safety.
