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  A Spell for an Eye

  Sarah A. Clewer

  First Published in Australia by Aurora House

  www.aurorahouse.com.au

  This edition published 2019

  Copyright © Sarah A. Clewer

  Typesetting: Prepress Plus

  Cover design: Simon Critchell

  The right of Sarah A. Clewer to be identified as Author of the Work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  ISBN number: 978-0-6484070-6-5 (Kindle)

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Distributed by:

  Ingram Content:

  https://www.ingramcontent.com/

  Australia: phone +613 9765 4800 | email [email protected]

  Milton Keynes UK: Phone +44 (0)845 121 4567 | email: [email protected]

  La Vergne, TN USA: Phone 1-800-509-4156 | email: [email protected]

  Gardners UK:

  https://www.gardners.com/

  Phone: +44 (0)1323 521555 | email: [email protected]

  Bertrams UK:

  https://www.bertrams.com/BertWeb/index.jsp

  Phone: +44 (0)1603 648400 Email: [email protected]

  Dedication

  To my loving family and teachers who have helped me through this path and encouraged me to write.

  This book is yours.

  Acknowledgments

  I wish to thank my parents, Laurence and Blandina Clewer, for being supportive of me and caring for me all my life. Your support was the best when I needed a break from the writing. Thank you both for also reading the first draft and giving me tips, such as finding out the code for the flights.

  Thank you to my awesome big sister, Becky, for constantly telling me I’m doing well with my writing. I hope you like how this turned out.

  Thank you to Mrs Kerry Wilson, for suggesting I could be an author. Your comment inspired me to keep writing, and eventually led to this book.

  Thank you, James Villinger, for reading through the first draft of this novel and giving me hard feedback. I hope you enjoy the finished product. : )

  Thank you to Sarah Vogler, from Aurora House, for giving this book a chance. Thanks also for all your help in assisting the cover design.

  Thank you, Linda Lycett, for looking further into my submission and agreeing to have it edited.

  My fabulously lovely editor, Josie. Thank you for being so patient while I struggled to balance study with edits. Thanks also for your wonderful tips.

  My wonderful proof reader, Lauren. Thank you for your assistance in ensuring the flow of this book was perfect. Thank you also for your wonderful commitment to the story, even when you were bogged down with other work.

  Thank you, Simon, for patiently changing the designs for the cover of this book. I hope I didn’t make things too hard for you.

  And especially thanks to you, the readers. Thank you for picking up this book and giving it a chance. You may be in school, working, or even just looking for a good book. Whoever you are, thank you so much for reading this, and I’ll hopefully meet you in another book.

  Prologue

  The war was over. All participants were dead and sent back to the planets they had come from, in disgrace.

  Years passed, and people thought things would go back to normal. They opened their shutters and watched the asteroids fly past, trading their war rations for native fruit and vegetables. Slowly they ventured out from their places and returned to their initial jobs and quests. Bakers returned to their bakeries, and travellers returned to their adventures. After some time, the war seemed only a terrible dream.

  Buried in the back of their minds, the leaders and elders of each planet chose ignorance; they locked books on legacies and legends in long forgotten archives.

  After another hundred years, head elders from the dwarf planet known as Pluto sent so-called “gifts” to each planet, naming them “surprise war centenary gifts”. Designed to mimic the receiving planet, the gifts were brightly coloured and easy to grip. The elders laughed at the gifts as they believed Pluto was a less sophisticated, childish community, and their ‘gifts’ were also childish.

  Each gift had a small device in it, which caused terrible disasters and wreaked great havoc over the planet. The planets closest to the Sun lost their mantle stability, and the planets on the other side of the Asteroid Belt experienced terrible storms that uprooted all the vegetation. As each planet deteriorated, the elders planted SOS devices into the debris, hoping for some form of help.

  The leaders of each planet rushed to their libraries and pulled out books written by those seen as crazy. Inside the first page was a legend.

  One hundred years after the Great War, devices disguised as gifts shall touch the ground of six planets. Once opened, the gifts shall destroy the planets, forcing them to evacuate.

  Before evacuation, the residents shall send SOS messages in the debris to search for help. The debris shall only travel to the neutral planet, Earth.

  Once through the atmosphere, the debris shall choose six mortal girls to save the planet. Each girl must be the only child and highly intelligent for their age. The locations of the girls must span three continents and form a triangle. Each message shall be modified upon contact with the chosen girl, and will decide their fate. These mortals shall be known as the Saviours and will return to their planet when they are called.

  An additional mortal shall not be given the gift of a planet. Instead, he shall be destined to fall in love with one Saviour and devote his life to them. On the first day of eye contact, the two shall never stop thinking of the other. If the mortal is separated from the Saviour, he shall cry tears of silver and follow her wherever she goes.

  The leaders disagreed with the prophecy and formed the first Administrative Councils of their world. These councils decreed that whoever their ‘Saviour’ was, they would not allow a mortal to accompany them back to the planets. Together they formed the Administrative Rules of the Solar System – laws that must not be revoked by any descendants.

  The laws ruled against improper trade between planets, including trading family members or animals. No tricks were to be made on other planets, and most importantly, inter-planetary marriage was forbidden. If the monarch wished to marry a mortal from Earth, she must be overthrown.

  Pleased with their ideas, the councils retreated to their planet’s cores and waited for the SOS devices to find help. The SOS devices were attached to six different pieces of planet debris and floated in the orbit of Earth’s moon until the gravity of Earth pulled them in...

  Chapter One

  It was the night of Celeste’s 4th birthday. Celeste was a little olive-skinned girl, with no cares in the world. Her dark eyes matched her chocolate brown hair and complimented her skin. She was far more intelligent than her age group; and she adored astronomy. This night, she had been sent to her room and told to go to sleep. She heard the familiar creak of the twelfth step as her parents walked up the stairs and went to bed. She looked at the sliver of moonlight on the ceiling coming in from the gap in the curtains for a few minutes, then went downstairs herself and made a nice glass of warm milk to help her sleep.

  Celeste crept back up the stairs and crawled into her bed, the milk warm in her hand. She raised the glass to her lips, allowing the warm liquid to reach her stomach. Placing the glass on her bedside table, she tried to pull the curtains shut, only to create a new
gap for the light to sneak in.

  Frustrated, she hit the curtains and flopped onto her pillow. She glared at the patch of moonlight disturbing her and yawned. She turned her back to the light and closed her eyes, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep. She slept, oblivious to the sounds of a meteor shower and the sound of her parents going downstairs again to watch a movie. She never heard a small meteor fly into her bedroom and fall onto her face.

  The meteor disintegrated on impact and slowly sank into her pores, seeping into her bloodstream. Celeste’s right eye twitched as small fragments mixed into her nerves. Slowly the fragments travelled through her system, eventually settling into her brain and imprinting new memories into the pink folds of her mind. A small light shone from her chest as some pieces blended into her heart, contaminating her bloodstream.

  Celeste woke up howling in pain. Her parents rushed in and her mother screamed when she saw Celeste’s face. Celeste got a mirror and looked into it, feeling the blood leave her face. She stood to seek comfort from her father, but she began to feel light headed and fainted. The whole right side of her face looked coarse, like the surface of a rock.

  Her parents, worried something might be horribly wrong, carried her to their car. Concern on their faces, they drove to the nearest hospital, ensuring their daughter was not harmed.

  Celeste kept trying to wake up, but was losing consciousness every ten seconds. When she was conscious, her thoughts drifted. My head feels sore. Where am I? Why do mama and papa look so scared? Is something wrong? When she was asleep, she had strange dreams of an outer space scene, but she couldn’t exactly work out what she was seeing.

  Once in the hospital, Celeste was awake long enough to see doctors looking at her parents, then at her. People kept touching her face, her cheek, shining lights in her eyes, and poking her. Stop it, I don’t like this. When someone found a wheelchair and placed her into it, she felt a wave of nausea before she lost consciousness again.

  She woke in an antiseptic-smelling bed, surrounded by medical experts. They looked bewildered and confused; they were staring at her face. A rush of heat filled her face as she remembered them poking and prodding at her cheek and shining light into her eyes. Instinctively, she raised her arms to protect herself from the lights. A smiling doctor gently lowered her hands, and she frowned at him and his smile.

  Moments later, while Celeste was unconscious, medical experts discussed her case. Nobody knew why this had happened, or what had made her face into… this thing. The doctors all spoke to each other in front of her, believing she was asleep.

  “I don’t have a clue what is wrong with the child. No data has been recorded for this.” Keeping her eyes closed, Celeste heard a door open and close.

  “Whatever this is, it’s a new phenomenon, and we have to get samples to test and record.” She winced slightly hearing this idea. A chuckle cut into her thoughts of being mutilated.

  “Bob, we are not cutting this girl’s face up for the sake of science.”

  “Blood samples? We could also see if it’s genetic…” Celeste turned her head, shutting off the talking and praying in her head.

  Please, God, let them find out what’s wrong with me. No doctors, specialists or astronomical expert could answer her prayers. Whatever this condition was, it was new, so the experts decided to name it ‘Celestia’, after the person who had been diagnosed with it—her.

  The only helpful advice the experts could give her mother was to keep Celeste out of sight or, at least, keep her ghastly face covered, should she be teased.

  The next day Celeste’s parents brought her to a shop and bought some plaster and clay. Returning home, they used soft wires to hold the shape of Celeste’s face. Carefully, they used papier mache to make a mould. They then layered some plaster onto her mask, allowing each layer to dry completely before adding the next. When they finished the layers, they buffed and polished it to make it smooth, lining the back with cotton so it wouldn’t irritate Celeste’s face.

  They custom-made Celeste seven masks and painted them different pastel colours. Each year, her parents would make larger masks to cover her growing face. After a few years, Celeste had to make her own masks, and she continued to do so each year.

  Chapter Two

  At Miranda’s 4th Christmas party, her only friend Celeste came for a visit. Pale, blonde, with piercing blue eyes and a determined mouth, Miranda was a great person to talk with as she was a good listener. Celeste wore a blue mask and had bought a nice new dress for Miranda as a gift.

  Taking the dress, Miranda gave Celeste a tight hug. “Thanks, Leste,” she said, releasing her friend. She pushed her long hair from her face, putting her gift on the chair beside her. She picked at the loose threads on her blouse, awkwardly waiting for her parents to give her cake.

  Celeste nodded slightly to Miranda, scratching at an itch under her mask.

  “Celeste, sweetheart, don’t scratch it. Remember what the doctor said.” Her mother gently hit her hand, stopping Celeste from accidentally lifting her mask. Celeste clasped her hands in her lap and looked at her knees, embarrassed.

  “Miranda, honey. It’s time for cake.” Her mother walked into the room, a large lemon cake in her hands. Eyes lighting up, Miranda sat up straighter in her chair. She grinned through the birthday song, then blew out the candles.

  Celeste and Miranda spent a whole day without any troubles. They played with the toys Miranda had received, and Miranda let Celeste solve some of her puzzles. They had some ice cream on the porch swing, giggling and sharing jokes.

  Celeste was taken home after dinner. Her parents wanted to return home before Celeste got too tired, and they shared kind words with Miranda’s parents. Miranda gave Celeste another hug, and Celeste promised she would come back soon.

  Miranda helped her parents clean up, enjoying her last couple of hours playing before bed. But that night, when Miranda was sleeping, another small meteor came into her room, identical to the meteor that fell on Celeste’s face.

  Falling onto her leg, the meteor began to melt. Slowly, it became a liquid and grew to cover her calf. Miranda turned her head, feeling an itch as the liquid began to slip into her pores. Her legs twitched as the remaining fluid entered her bloodstream.

  Blood mixed with meteor fluid and became thinner as the fluid travelled to her heart. Opening her eyes, Miranda felt her entire body chemistry rewriting itself. Fear swept over her and she opened her mouth.

  Her concerned parents rushed in when she screamed. Upon seeing her leg, they took her directly to the hospital. Drifting in and out of consciousness, Miranda was only aware of the strange feeling of liquid flowing through her leg. What is this strange feeling? It feels like my blood is changing, like it’s becoming water. God, please help me understand.

  Her parents, barely parking straight in the lot, dragged her out of the car and raced into the building. They stood at reception, calling for help. Her mother held Miranda’s hand tightly, numb pain registering in the girl’s mind. Mum, what’s wrong? Why do you look so scared?

  The family doctor stood in the doorway, looking tired and haggard. One glance at the red, swollen, scabby leg and the doctor turned them away, claiming it was just a reaction and would heal over time.

  With her parents’ persuasion, Miranda went shopping for new clothes the next day, aware not to show her scarred leg to anyone. Her mother bought pants, and tight-fitting clothing – nothing like dresses or skirts.

  To make matters worse, Miranda was home schooled from that day on. Only when she turned fifteen was she allowed to attend high school.

  Chapter Three

  Vanessa was three when she was unwillingly given her scars. A French aristocrat; pale, freckled, red-headed with green eyes, she had just finished going to the outdoor theatre.

  She was going to bed when a slither of rock hit her hand and stuck. It started dissolving into her skin. Vanessa rubbed her hand down her night dress to scrape the rock shard off, but it wouldn’t budge. An unbearable
pain spread through her arm. Whatever it was, was travelling up the inside of her arm; she tracked its progress: blue-grey veins turning hot red as it crept closer to her body.

  Fear swept over her mind, then died out as a soft voice inside her head told her it will all be fine. Vanessa went to bed, thinking the pain would go away overnight. It did, but it left both her arms and hands swollen with an orange tinge to them. Her parents rushed her to the hospital, where countless tests were performed. After waiting ages for the results, the doctor stood in front of them.

  “Madame, monsieur. Your daughter has experienced something.”

  Vanessa’s parents looked at him, expectation written on their faces. “Did you find out anything, doctor?” Her father asked sternly. He had his hand on Vanessa’s shoulder, gently keeping her in place.

  The doctor removed his glasses, rubbed his eyes, and shook his head.

  “We cannot find anything like this in our databases. The universal database also has nothing like what your daughter is experiencing on record. She is truly a strange phenomenon.”

  Vanessa’s parents were in shock. Her mother held her close, barely touching her forearms. “Are you sure you cannot find anything? Not even a hypothesis?” Her mother asked, bitterness creeping into her voice.

  The doctor took a step back, eyes wide. “Madame, we have tried everything. Her case is truly exceptional. But we have no hypothesis. My advice is to hide her arms and keep her out of sight of the community. That is the best I can give you at this time.” Bowing his head, he made his leave.

  The family stood a minute longer, then turned and left the building, silent as mice. From her place in her mother’s arms, Vanessa looked between the faces of her parents, a small frown on her face. Mama, papa, why are you so quiet? Why aren’t you talking? I wish I knew what you were feeling.

  Her mother took her shopping the following day to buy some opera gloves and then the family moved her to a very secluded place in France where nobody would see her arms. Vanessa never had many friends, just one girl she met next door and they were friends until an argument destroyed them.