Zodiac Hunter: The Spirit Equine

I yawned, turning over in bed and wondering why my alarm hadn't gone off but then remembered that it was the weekend. I extended out my arm towards the edge of the bed, feeling for the table with my fingers, expecting to find my phone but ended up touching something soft, furry and squishy.

My fingers withdrew reflexively and I thought I heard something squeak, followed by the sound of something skittering from the table. This led me to open my eyes after which I wished they could have remained closed.

I first noticed the table next to the bed where two porcelain bowls sat, filled with what I assumed was bread and soup. . .? I wasn't sure. A huge chunk from the bread was missing. There was something else beyond the bowls, propped against the wall. Some kind of parchment with something written on it.

Gone to get fresh produce. Please stay away from the Order. I'll be back before sundown.

I thought I was still dreaming, with my eyes still a little hazy until I started to take in the rest of my surroundings, gradually coming to the realization that that was not my room.

Next to the table, there was a small cabinet that supported what looked like a lantern, then there was a wooden three-legged stool besides it, a pile of folded clothes, and finally, a silvery shield from the previous night. It was jagged on one side, appearing to have been half of a once nearly perfect circle.

The object caught my attention, instantly giving me a kind of whiplash effect inside my mind as my memory of the latest events were reawakened.

Desmond!

That eerie mystical voice had returned as a powerful sensation suddenly shot up my right arm.

"Ssss. . .aargh!" I cringed, feeling my arm, and there it was, again. The symbol.

The arrow shaped tattoo was still running down the inner side of my arm, its outline glowing a bright neon green.

Rise. . .Hunter. . .

Rise. . .Hunter. . .Spirit. . .

. . .Equine. . .Hunter. . .Blood. . .

. . .Abinor . . .

Rise—

"Ugh! Shut up!" I cried out, starting to lose it and everything had fallen silent, until. . .

"It's not fun, is it?"

I gasped at the new voice. It felt real, almost as if someone else was there with me in the room, physically.

"Who-who said that?" I asked, carefully scanning the room.

"He told me you'd come here but I didn't want to believe it. . ."

I turned my head either way but I still could not place the voice.

". . .And I cannot endure this charade anymore, which is why you—" the voice paused, then, "Hey, fool. Over here!"

I got back up from looking under the bed and followed the voice across the wall, past the window and finally resting my eyes on the broken shield and there he was. . .again.

"You. . ." I gasped, pointing at my reflection in the mirror, except it wasn't exactly me.

"Yes. . .me. . ." the reflection talked back. It looked a lot like me, but taller, older and leaner. This then led me to instinctively feel myself and holy shit! I had just realized how old I actually was, or at least appeared.

From the reflection, the guy was considerably older; give or take five-ten years but indeed looked every bit like me, from the thick dark hair that appeared even thicker, the brown eyes; the face. . .everything. It was like looking at a cloned version of myself, except, you know—older. His accent was a little different, much like everyone else's in that strange place; somewhere between British and Scandinavian.

"I am going to kill him once I get out of here," my older doppelgänger said, his brows furrowing.

"Kill?" I asked, "who?"

"The one responsible for putting me in here, of course!" the reflection snarled at me, "and would you mind pointing those fingers elsewhere?"

I quickly put down my hand in embarrassment. "Wait, who put you in here? What are you talking about?"

"If you think I'm just going to stand here and answer to you, you're entirely mistaken, boy!"

The reflection stood there, looking at nothing in particular, his face brooding. We were both quiet for a moment until something clicked inside my head. I quickly began to try and piece two and two together, all the more realizing that I most certainly was not in a dream.

"You're Des. . .Despon, aren't you?" I asked, looking at the reflection which sneered back.

"It's Despyon. DES—PYON. Despyon Raznar. Gods, can't you even read?"

I was just about to open my mouth and protest about having been crowned the undefeated regional sciences and history champion at the California Educational Decathlon but somehow I had a feeling that this unfriendly reflection would only hit me with an even nastier remark.

"I'm Desmond Turner, thanks for asking," I said. "So, I've been living your life for the past day or something, right?".

"Well, look at that, you've finally cracked it. Suppose I should have Freya prepare you some scrumptious Abinor goat broth to celebrate with."

"Hey!" I reacted this time, "First of all, I'm vegan. Second, what's Abinwo? And who's Freya?"

"Abinor! —the land we live on! And I believe you've already met my annoying aunt."

Abinor. . .I thought I had heard that name somewhere. . .I then recalled the woman whom I had followed there the day before. "Oh. . .don't you think you're being a little too harsh there—"

"Oh please," my reflection spat, "that woman is so full of herself. Using guilt as an excuse to patronize me every single chance she—why am I even explaining this to you?"

"Alright, alright. Geez!" I raised my arms, backing off from the subject, though I was sure I could detect some kind of sadness hidden under that incredibly awful tone but I did not dare try to push any further.

"Do you have any idea how all of this happened?" I asked, "because all I remember was that I was going to meet this—" I stopped just in time to prevent myself from mentioning the girl that I was to see that never showed up, "—someone then I got sucked underwater after touching some kind of weird bow and I finally ended up here in Abi. . ."

"Abinor!" It appeared as if my reflec—okay, from now on, let's just refer to it as Despyon—now that we know its name. I just could not see how such a person could mirror me like that. . .yikes!

Now, where was I? Right. Despyon's reaction to my explanation. There seemed to be some kind of dawning expression on his face, which was hard for me to make out, given how he almost looked as if he was just crafting some nasty comeback. God, and to think that was how I would look like to other people.

"The bow, what did it look like?"

"It was golden, glowing. . .I couldn't really make much out of it."

"Of course, you couldn't."

The nerve with this guy!

"He said the one who bore his mark would be brought here by his bow."

"I'm sorry, who is this person you keep on talking about?"

"He is n, really," Despyon continued, beginning to sound a little dreamy and mysterious, "he is like a force of nature. He started appearing to me just as the next Harvest dawned closer, manifesting as a shimmering spirit of light, telling me that it was almost time."

"Almost time," I cut in, "time for what?"

"I assumed he was talking about the Harvest at first but there was more. I thought I was losing my mind when he said that you would come, until, well, here you are."

"But how am I you?"

Despyon gave off that nasty sneer again, adding a chuckle this time. "Well, the spirit or whatever you want to call it, had a proposition."

"What kind of proposition?"

"Not important!" Despyon snapped but quickly regained his cool, "the gist is that it involved my willingness to partake in the spirit's quest. The quest of bringing you here. That I was apparently the key to your coming here. That we were connected."

I turned the spirit down, of course but he would not take no for an answer, and the last thing I remember after that was that one moment I was heading for the Chieftain's stables but then something happened and I ended up getting trapped wherever the hell this is and now you are in possession of my body!"

I felt sorry for the guy and I almost said it but ultimately thought better of it. "This spirit," I added instead, "you didn't see anything else?"

"What, you want me to repeat myself?"

"Okay, I got it."

I turned away from the shield, taking my thoughts with me as I stared out through the window where the sun was already high up in the sky.

"There's one more thing," I turned at this. "The spirit kept mentioning some kind of prophecy."

"Prophecy?"

"It's something I've heard countless times before. The Seer rambles on about it every day, that looney bloke!"

"What does it say?"

"I'm going to spoon-feed you through this entire thing, aren't I?"

"Oh, come on," I lamented, "do you wanna remain stuck in there for the rest of your life? Cause I sure hell ain't!"

Despyon glared at me so heatedly I was afraid he would break through the shield and strangle me with his bare hands.

"Fine," he said, much to my relief, "it is a text believed to have been crafted eons after the very first Harvest, about a warrior—ah! No! Not now!"

"What? What is—ow!" I flinched, feeling my arm. The symbol was glowing again.

Something's happening. . ." Despyon gasped and for the first time, I could see what looked like real fear in his eyes. "I can't. . .you have to end this! You have—urgh! . . .Find the Seer! . . ."

With that, Despyon's image dissolved, morphing back into just a normal plain reflection of myself, still older and taller but with no distinctive sneer or sense of narcissism.

I tried calling out but my reflection did the same. Despyon was gone. I was still inside him (yeah, I heard it as I said it) but no douchey voice was talking back to me.

The symbol stopped glowing as I pulled down my shirt sleeve, knowing that I could not just stand there and wait for my evil twin to return. Maybe he was gone forever and that would be the last anyone would ever hear of Despyon Raznar. But then there I was; in his image and likeness. I was now Despyon. I had to find a way to fix this. A way to get back to the Midtown streets of Sacramento, back to my mom and, I cannot believe I'm saying this; back to seeing Carmen's silly face.

Thinking up all of that was easy. It was the doing part that would be a real bitch.

I looked at the broken shield again, recalling Despyon's last words: Find the Seer.

With that in mind, I stepped out of the hut and was greeted by the sound of chicken clucking, horses neighing, cows mooing, people chattering and children laughing and chasing each other.

Desmond Turner, I said to myself, I mean, Despyon Raznar—wow, this is gonna be so confusing but I promise to do the best I can. I swear I'll even be missing this moment, when all I had to worry about was mixing up names and not facing some. . .we'll get to that, but for now. . . Welcome to Abinor—you're a long way from home.