A Healer's Prophecy (The Kallos Trilogy Book 1)

Book summary

In a world of magic and mystery, 15-year-old Alina discovers her healing powers and their role in a dangerous prophecy. As she uncovers her family’s secrets and navigates a mystical parallel world, Alina must face the rising darkness and decide whether to save or doom the realm she loves.

Excerpt from A Healer's Prophecy (The Kallos Trilogy Book 1)

Chapter 1: ALINA

The bell sounded for first period, and I reluctantly slid my book into my backpack. I was just getting to the good part. I waited until my classmates broke up their chattering groups to head inside, then silently slipped in behind them like a ghost.

It was the last day of school, and I had survived without too much damage—the bullying mostly faded away this year. Although I felt like I had disappeared off the face of the Earth, I decided being invisible was far better than being targeted. Still, I counted down the minutes until summer break, feeling trapped within these white walls when my soul yearned to be free.

I lived for the summers spent on my grandparents’ farm away from city lights and judgmental eyes, and tomorrow, I would be there, breathing in fresh country air!

Just before reaching the door, a faint cry sounded behind me, tingling the nerves in my fingertips.

Something needed me.

I glanced around, eventually spotting a small turtle holed up in his shell in the center of the parking lot. “Oh no,” I muttered as I hurried away from the building to pick him up, moving him out of danger and gently placing him down in soft grass.

“There you go. Try to stay away from cars and busy streets next time, okay?” He poked his bald head out slowly, looking up at me in acknowledgement. “You’re welcome. Now, off you go.”

I jogged back to my teacher staring impatiently at me with arms crossed. “You cannot save every animal you see in danger, Alina.”

“I know, Mrs. Wilbrooks, but I can save the ones who call out to me,” I replied as we entered the school.

“You almost got me fired last year bringing that wounded bird into my classroom…” she raised an eyebrow.

“I’m still sorry about that,” I grimaced. “But he was a friend.”

She studied my face with a skeptical expression, then shrugged. “Well, with some of your classmates, I’d say animals are better company to keep.” I couldn’t help but giggle. Patting me on the back, she added, “I brought cinnamon rolls for our last day.”

My eyes lit up. I spent most of my lunches in her classroom. While she graded papers and prepared lessons, I became lost in the worlds of my books. She was the single reason I survived the endless hours in this musky building.

“Now, wash the turtle off your hands, then hurry along before you’re late to class,” she shooed me.

***

At the end of the day, I sunk into Mom’s car, bracing myself for her usual barrage of questions about my day—also prepared for her disappointed reactions.

Did I make summer plans with friends? Did I participate in my last day of gym?

Instead, however, I was met with silence…

This proved so much worse.

Staring out the window at the identical homes lined up one right after the other, I picked at a hangnail, risking an occasional glance in her direction.

Eventually, her voice spilled into the stagnant space in a serious tone that made my heart catch in my throat. “Alina, I need to speak with you.”

I froze in trepidation at her use of my name. She only used my name when the topic was grim.

Had she discovered my secret hiding place for hurt animals in the house? I had been taking in more and more strays recently…

Or worse, was she going to tell me I couldn’t go to my grandparents’ as planned tomorrow? She had tried to convince me to go to a summer camp this year instead, which included water sports and dancing. She clearly didn’t know me at all.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“We must leave tonight. Your Papi,” she hesitated, her voice tight as she struggled to force out the right words, “he’s in the hospital.”

An intense misery filled my chest. I had rested fitfully last night, palpitations causing my heart to jump about, and I woke in a sweat, thinking of Papi. I sensed something was wrong… but I said nothing.

Why had I said nothing? I agonized.

“He’s,” I paused, choking on my words, “his heart?”

Mother nodded, swallowing hard over the lump formed in her own throat. Her shoulders were tense, and her grip tightened on the steering wheel until white knuckles shone.

This was bad.

We pulled into the garage, and Mom reached her hand over to mine. “Finish preparing your bag and take a quick shower. We’ll leave before dinner.”

Tears stung my eyes as I watched Mom disappear into the house. I walked numbly behind her to my own room and sat on the bed, running my hand over the bland duvet cover.

My eyes settled on the small black spider who had become my recent best friend, dangling lightly from his silky string in the corner of my room as he prepared to spin a new web.

“Hello, little guy,” I whispered, thankful to him for providing another heartbeat in my small room so that I didn’t feel quite so alone.

He gave a soft nod in return, and I let my guilty tears fall.

Papi.

Eventually, I made my way under the shower. Lifting my face to the warm water, I let it wash over my fears and sorrows like a cleansing summer rainstorm.

“You have to be okay, Papi,” I whispered into the steam and knew in that moment, I would do everything in my power to save him.

***

The sky wept sorrowful tears on our drive to my grandparents’, raindrops trailing down the window in gliding streaks. As the hours passed, they captured the silver moonlight like continuous rivers of despair. Even the scenery change from city to country, a sight I usually savored, was shadowed in grief. Tonight, everything appeared bleak.

We eventually arrived at the hospital, bright lights illuminating the parking lot still wet from the previous rain. I followed Mom as she navigated the stark halls. The hospital was cold and smelled of disinfectant. Nurses and caretakers busily moved about in their scrubs. The sound of monitors hummed and beeped, creating a cacophony of noises. How anyone could rest with all this commotion was beyond me.

A family stood near one of the intensive care unit rooms, hugging one another in quiet tears. My heart broke for them. I knew without seeing, this patient was young.

When we arrived to Papi’s room, Grandmother greeted us with a hug, her face wan with worry and fatigue. As she took me into her arms and held me there, her physical embrace brought a fresh tightness to my throat. Dark circles shadowed her blue eyes, tainted red from lack of sleep and tears.

“Tell us, Grandmother,” I pleaded in a whisper as we sat in small chairs by the window.

She took a deep breath and then looked up at me, placing a weary hand to her forehead. “Papi had a severe heart attack. He was walking back from tending the sheep yesterday evening when the pain hit him. Luckily, he knew what was happening, and we got him straight to the hospital. They performed an emergency open-heart surgery.” My breath caught, waiting to hear the words she would say next. “The doctors say the surgical procedure to his heart went well, but,” her voice quivered, a soft sob escaping her lips. I reached my hand out, squeezing hers tightly as Mom stood tensely beside us. “But he hasn’t woken up yet and is still requiring the mechanical ventilator to breathe for him.” Tears filled her eyes as she said the words, and once they began to fall, it was as if she gave herself permission to let all the pent-up grief she had been holding in finally rush out.

I threw my arms around her, feeling my own shoulders heave with silent sobs, and we held each other like that for some time, with Mom joining in. When we eventually unraveled from our embrace, I let my gaze wander to Papi.

He looked so frail; his body weak. His coloring was too pale, and his eyes were closed lifelessly. The breathing and feeding tubes coming from his mouth were cumbersome, while monitors beeped a steady, breathy rhythm.

“I knew he wasn’t well last night. I knew,” I barely managed to speak as I walked to him, taking his cold, limp hand and laying my forehead against it. I allowed myself to cry, sobs tearing through me, splintering my heart along the way.

I tried to sense him but felt nothing in his sedation. It was as if he wasn’t even here. Grandmother softly rubbed my back so I knew I wasn’t alone, but the emptiness in the room was overwhelming.

“Let’s step outside so Papi can rest,” Mother said calmly, placing her arm around my other shoulder and leading me out the door to the waiting room. She poured us waters in thin paper cups, but my throat was too tight to drink.

“He is healing,” Mother said. “It will be a long road, but his body is healing.”

“And what of his mind?” I agonized.

She turned to face Grandmother—all pragmatics. “We need to find someone to tend to the farm. Probably full time.”

“I will stay here,” I said.

A faint smile grazed Grandmother’s features. “No, my child. You have other plans in store for you.”

Mother shot her a look, but Grandmother met her gaze sharply.

“Her destiny is here. With me,” Mother whispered harshly.

Grandmother never blinked, and I stared between them in surprise.

“I need to find a restroom,” Mother stood, leaving without a glance behind.

I often heard them fighting on the phone in hushed whispers, but any attempt on my part to understand the cause was quickly shut down. Grandmother shook her head at my baffled expression, telling me this outburst would prove no different. So, I used the opportunity to speak with her on another topic.

“I need a moment alone with him, Grandmother,” I said. She raised an eyebrow in question. “I just think… maybe I can reach him,” I tried to explain, although even I wasn’t sure what I was suggesting. All I knew was that my grandparents had done so much for me—helped me endure my childhood, if I was honest—and I had to bring him back to us. Somehow.