Ignorance is Bliss

"A very ancient entity is trying to communicate with you. Whatever it is, it is intent on connecting with you."

"Do you know what the symbols mean?"

"The skin of your back is radiating powerful ancient magic, I'm sorry lady but this is far beyond my powers and understanding."

"Am I in danger?"

"Trust me, from what I felt, if this entity wanted to harm you, you would be dead. It's very powerful magic. Whatever it wants from you, it will get eventually."

"What does that even mean? It doesn't mean harm to me, but it wants something from me?"

"Listen, that's all I can tell you."

"Do you know anyone that can help me?"

"I know someone but he isn't cheap."

"Just tell me."

"His name is Lance; he is the most powerful sorcerer I've met. Cranky old man really."

"Ok, how do I find him?"

"He lives in a bayou in Baton Rouge."

The psychic wrote down his address for her.

"Good luck, missy," the psychic said as she picked up her bag and left.

Delilah drove to Baton Rouge the next morning, the air was filled with a sweet aroma, and her tummy growled in disapproval of her skipping breakfast. She couldn't bring herself to eat, and hadn't eaten properly in several days. Her apartment had become a frightening place to be. She hadn't told Morian because she knew he'd disapprove and discourage her, but the psychic had confirmed her suspicions: she was being haunted by a spirit. Her stomach twisted into a knot, she just wanted to get to the bottom of this problem and figure out who this spirit was and what it wanted from her.

She arrived at the address, which was a cottage near the river. She inhaled deeply; the morning air was crisp and clean, tickling her nostrils. There was something eerie and mystical about the setting. The door opened before she could knock.

"Hello? Is anyone home?"

"Come in," a voice said.

Delilah was deeply disturbed. She didn't enter; instead, she stood outside the door.

"I was told Lance lives here, and I need his help."

"All right, come on in."

The living room was enormous when she walked in, with isles of books.

Behind a table, a man sat in a chair.

Delilah was still perplexed as to how a cottage's interior could have such high ceilings.

She was scared.

She expected to be greeted by an old, creepy man, but instead she was greeted by a handsome young man with a most agreeable disposition. The man rose to his feet and approached her. He was about 6 feet tall and had light brown skin; he appeared Middle Eastern or Persian, but she couldn't tell. He was a handsome young man with dark brown eyes, a dark shaved beard, and an enchanting, mystical aura.

"I recognize you," Lance said, standing up and approaching her.

"I don't believe I've ever met you." Delilah responded, her lips pressed together in a tense thin line.

'I mean of course not in this life, but I knew you lifetimes ago. Yes, your eyes, I remember your soul, Mortala."

"How do you know that name?" Delilah asked.

"It's your name."

"My name is Delilah."

"That's also true, but your soul is named Mortala. You see, all souls have names, you would know that if you were dead."

Delilah swallowed, trying not to panic, but she was mentally and emotionally overwhelmed. She began to feel bad about not telling Morian. When Lance mentioned souls and names, she thought he was insane.

"Please, Delilah, take a seat," Lance said as a chair appeared next to her.

She sat down.

He sat across from her, smiling.

"How did you find me?" Lance was curious.

"I was given your address by a psychic I had hired for my ghost problem; she said you could help me."

He examined her carefully, his eyes taking in every detail.

"That witch, Mariah!" She owes me money, devious woman." Lance rolled his eyes, irritated by the realization.

Delilah assumed he and the psychic had a connection.

"I could feel the magic emanating from you, Delilah." "Please explain the ghost problem to me."

"I keep hearing this voice say the word you called me. And, at first, I thought I was going insane, but it's recently gotten worse. Objects in my apartment are moving. It's hard to sleep, I don't know what it wants from me. I was hoping you'd be able to tell me."