2 The Stroke of Unexpected Luck

I am Helena Athena, the only daughter of Gaius and Beatrice, and I am one of last living souls who wander. In my veins, runs the pure-blooded soul travelers who could heal any wound, bruise, illness, or pain. However, unlike my parents, I have the power not to only heal people but also, I could connect with nature and restore its vigor and vitality. No matter how dead a land is, or how desiccated water sources are, my energy could bring life out of its parchedness.

And so, I was told that we are the last of our kind. My father said that I am different from other soul travelers he knew, and that I am special in my own particular ways.

I have a very little understanding of the likes of me, most especially of our family origin. My parents refused to tell more tales. After soul traveling in this place, they never had plans of going back, or transferring to a new place. All I know, our ancestors were from Caluso, the snow mountain, which I thought is inexistent. For as we have traveled far and wide, there's nothing but more of the dry lands of Aelmere.

We are nomads.

Our home is this old bow top caravan pulled by these two brown horses that roam the lands of Aelmere, a place of drought and famine. No life could survive in its land, and even the air is dry. A place where I would never understand why my parents soul traveled here and decided to call it a home where in fact, it's never too close to some thing you would call a haven.

"Did you sensed someone there with you?", my father asked as we fix the straps of the horses preparing to leave.

"I did, and like always, it's harmless and it just leave me be.", I said to appease him but he only looked more concerned. I faced my father as I uncover my great thoughts about the place I've been. "That place is surreal, Father. Everywhere I look, it's beautiful. There were birds all around, far more trees and endless supply of nice water", I told him as I started to feed the horses with a smile on my face.

Without looking at me, my father scrubbed the horses' mane and pretended he didn't hear a single word I said.

"There could be more food, a tiny house where we can live in, and maybe, some neighbors we can share stories with ", I continued as I sat down in the horse cart.

"Beautiful things are always tempting, but not all of them are what they seem to be.", he said as he turn down my admiration to a possible new home.

The smile on my face faded and all I can do was to stare at him and read the lines on his face. "Is that why we're here?", trying to decipher why my parents have no plans of leaving Aelmere. "I mean, there's nothing in this place..", I said.

We have been living in a horse cart all my life, surviving on foods that we can find, if there's any. If not for my powers, we would not be be able to drink water from a dying pond, or pick fruits from a dead tree. Even people are rarer than dandelions.

My father held onto the straps tightly. "I do not wish to talk about this further. We have always talked about this, Helena, and the answers will never change… You'll understand soon", he said as he finish letting the horses drink from an old bucket.

I wish I could understand if they would just let me. Maybe, I could convince him tomorrow, or the next day, when I gain more of my abilities. Dangling my feet off the ground, I suddenly sensed the presence of my mother. I could hear her maternity dress swaying swiftly as if she's running.

Just in time to hear an earful.

"Young lady! How many times do I have to tell you, you are not allowed to soul travel!", my mother furiously exclaimed. Her face turned red as a cherry, and her sullen grey eyes looked so weary. She also checked my hands, maybe for wounds. Even with so much anger and disappointment, my mother never laid a hand on me. "You know you can't heal without your crest or use your abilities", she reiterated as she place her hands on her pregnant belly.

My crest. What a dumb thing for a soul traveler to lose her crest?

Soul travelers are born and gifted by the earth and sky with a golden crest, a device used as a key for our abilities. It gathers the pain so we can heal, it gathers light so we can travel. Our presence marks the end of challenges and the beginning of healing for any entity that encounters us. When we come of age, we learn how to make use of it. Normally, it has an ornate of a hummingbird that defines our freedom and ability to soul travel. When the right time comes, it will be decorated with complex patterns according to our energy transformation. My parents has one hummingbird with a dead tree, mine has peonies surrounded by vines with thorns.

From time to time, my abilities as a soul traveler increases and my uniqueness have worried my parents ever since. My father calls it a stroke of unexpected luck, something that he looks forward in me everyday. He has been very encouraging yet cautious of my can-dos, compared to my mother who never allowed me to use any of my unique abilities, especially without my crest with me. She fears it and would always jump into wild conclusions, claiming that it would endanger our lives.

I was a young girl when I misplaced my crest. I never knew its importance until I lost it. I was soul traveling then. Actually, the last thing I remember having it was when I was healing a young lad, quite older than me. I was summoned by my mother, and when I came back, I realized that I have lost the important piece of my very existence.

"There is limit to your power. Without your crest, there's nothing much you can do as a soul traveler, more so a healer", my mother added in a much calmer tone. Honestly, everytime I heal the wounded, the unimaginable pain transfers to me first before it completely disappears.

"I was just trying to find it", I continuously justified to casually imply that I will never stop looking for it. Soul traveling made me see other kinds of beauty than the four corners of this caravan.

"Then maybe, you lost it as if it's for the best", she said without her eyes blinking. Her dispiritedness made a clarification that this should be the last time for me to soul travel. "Get inside the caravan, we will leave after your father and I have finished gathering food", my mother ordered.

HOURS LATER

"OW!", I shrieked as my head hit on the side boards. I am so used to bumpy rides, and hitting my head a few times doesn't bother me anymore. I was even born in this very same old bow top four-wheeled emerald green caravan. It used to have bright colors and intricate carved designs, however, over time, the colors have faded, and the wood have withered. In some way, it's still quite cozy inside. My father made sure that our home with wheels is comfortable for us to live in, especially for my mother who is pregnant and about to give birth anytime.

On the inside, the outstanding red oak roof and walls compliment the embedded ivory designed as vines. There's a single white bed in the back, with tasseled curtains tied to the sides, a cupboard underneath it for our clothes, and a chest for our food and mother's herbs. There's this small red oak table with a small stool, that my father took from an abandoned hut we came across, where I learned how to read and write. Over the top, there's a shelf for my father's collection of books. The woodworks are remarkable with an emphasis on the use of organic elements and nature. Hummingbirds are seen in every corner. And with fabrics like burlap and sisal, our portable home isn't too bad.

I climbed up the bed and laid for a bit until my parents find our new destination. Resting my head on the soft feather pillow, I tucked my hands underneath and felt a rough piece. I pulled it out and figured it's my carry on bag, a leather bag hand-made for me by my father.

I sat upright, opened it and found a few of my personal things. I found my bone and ivory comb, and used it for a bit to untangle my long black hair. I also found my favorite red scarf that I use when it's a little bit chilly at night. Then, I saw my flat round hand mirror, and caught a glimpse of my grey eyes. I forced a smile as I look at my reflection.

I was about to close my bag when I noticed the black metal hilt in the shape of dragon. It's something that was given to me by my mother when I was young. She said, it tells so much of my identity. I find it funny because it's nothing but a useless and bladeless piece. Maybe, that's because healers like us are not allowed to hurt or kill someone.

As I was about to put it back, I noticed the insignia embedded on the handle. Come to think of it, it's the same as the emblem on the horse near the spring. The sword with a vine of thorns.

Coincidence? Maybe.