“He was here, Mother. I can feel him.” Eli closed his eyes and let his head fall back so that his face pointed toward the high ceiling. “I can really feel him.” Rebecca smiled and proudly cupped Eli’s face with her hand, but she did not speak. She listened to Eli’s words cautiously. She loved her son, but she had learned to never blindly trust his notoriously unreliable feelings. He often mis-interpreted his emotions, which led to false proclamations that hid the truth. He was still young and would learn to hone his talent one day, she often told herself. He was undoubtedly powerful but often unfocused. Power was his birthright, but he remained the child of a lesser god. Rebecca released her grip and took a few steps, meticulously surveying the room and everything around her. She wouldn’t be caught unguarded in a house that she knew had secrets. Deep secrets. All remained quiet in the house, except for the clicking sound of her heels on the hardwood floor as she sauntered about, trying to discover its treasures.
