Based off The Warrior Heir.

--

A man and a woman sit inside an empty, white room outside large double doors, locked and sealed. A picture of a syringe lit up above the door, signaling outsiders that surgery was being preformed. The two disheveled adults stare endlessly at the light, sobbing over and over as the night dragged on. Finally, the light flickers off and a surgeon steps out, removing her mask and discarding it in a nearby trash bin. She looks at the adults and looks down, sighing.

"I'm very sorry to tell you this," The surgeon said, still dressed in her scrubs. "But it seems the stone is conflicting itself, most likely due to . . . multiple inheritances."

The woman sobbed into her husband's shoulder loudly. He stared at the floor in bewilderment, patting his wife on the shoulder, feeding her lies that it'll be okay. They both knew it wouldn't be okay. Far from it.

"And there's nothing you can do?" The husband asked.

"We've never seen anything like this," The surgeon said. "A stone conflicting itself, literally tearing itself apart, is unheard of. We believe because of your lineage as, er, different Heir's, the baby was born with a stone that was gifted with power of both wizards and warriors. The child does have a stone, she's a legitiment Heir, believe me, but the lineage from you two has caused the stone to fight with itself. It's only a matter of time before . . ."

"How long do you think she has?" The woman asked, facing the doctor with bloodshot eyes.

"If we're correct, she'll live rather long," The surgeon said, removing the latex gloves. "Not long past infancy though, maybe about seven years. By then the stone will have deteriorated from conflicting and destroy itself, and by then it'll be a short time before the child dies."

"Can we see her?" The man asked. The look of desperation told the doctor that he'd do anything, anything, to see his child. His only child.

"Of course." The surgeon said. "She'll look rather well for someone in her condition. We used a charm to try and slow down the conflicting while we were preforming the surgery, but it's only temporary."

The surgeon led the husband and wife through the double doors to the glass room where they kept the child, secluded away from the other infants. The baby girl in the small, plastic cradle was asleep, laying on her stomach and looking peaceful. The wife stroked her hair, tears flowing down her cheeks in silence while the husband rubbed her shoulder, tears spilled over and down his cheeks as well.

Suddenly, the child stirred, turning over on it's back and smiled a toothless grin, recognizing it's parents and giggling wildly. She blinked her already open eyes at the two in wonder, who smiled at their child's antics.

"Look," The husband said. "She's got somebody's gorgeous eyes."

"And she's got somebody else's wonderfully dark hair."

The baby kicked and giggled some more. Her dark, green eyes swam in happiness as she gazed up at her parents. Her mother stroked her dark, black hair and smiled. The child soon grew tired and fell asleep again. The husband and wife left the room and went back into the waiting area, where the surgeon came back to meet them.

"I'm very sorry about your baby," The surgeon said. "But I know someone who might be able to help." The husband and wife looked up simultaneously. "Someone who has been doing experiments regarding Heir's stones."

"Who is it?" The husband demanded. "Anything. Whatever it takes to save our daughter."

"Jessamine Longbranch." The surgeon said grimly.

The husband's eyes widened as he collapsed back in his chair next to his wife, who broke into renewed sobs. He ran a hand through his hair and looked up at the surgeon, terror in his eyes.

"You're talking about the wizard of the White Rose?" He asked, already knowing the answer.

"I'm sorry," The surgeon said. "But there's nothing more I can do. She's studied this kind of thing. If you want to save your baby, she's your only hope."

--

After several months of fighting, debating, caring, crying, and deciding, the husband and wife arrive in London in late March, carrying their child. They arrive at the building and climb the stairs in a desperate attempt the halt time. Eventually, they arrive on the ninth floor of the building complex and knock on the last door on the left. A woman with dark hair opens the door and smiles.

"You must be Mr. and Mrs. Cross," The woman greeted, her gaze immediately dropping to the baby in their arms. "And this must be little Amen. Come in, please."

The husband and wife reluctantly stepped inside with Amen and the door shut behind them. They placed the baby on the examination table and the dark haired woman went straight to work. She checked the baby's height, weight, pulse, and she listened to the baby's heart a second time using a strange stethoscope shaped like a silver cone. She spent a considerable amount of time listening through the silver cone.

"What's happening in here?" She murmured under her breathe.

"There's a problem with her stone." Mr. Cross said.

"What kind of problem?"

"A big one."

"And that's why you're here." The doctor said.

"The stone," Mr. Cross said. "It's conflicting with itself, whatever that means. The surgeon told us you'd be the only hope of saving our daughter."

"Because of your lineage," Jessamine said. "The stone has taken on the power of both a wizard and a warrior, and, as you have seen, results in the two sides fighting for dominance in the stone. Ultimately, the stone will destroy itself and without a stone, the child won't live."

"Is there anything you can do?" Mr. Cross asked. More like pleaded.

"I've never seen anything like this," Jessamine said. The parents' faces immediately fell. Their last hope, their dream of saving their daughter, crushed into a fine powder by the words. "But it may not be fatal."

"How?!" Mr. Cross asked, picking his head up immediately.

"It's possible that the stone will destroy itself, or become completely wizard or warrior," Jessamine pondered. "But it's also equally possible that it will meld and blend together, becoming something even more powerful than a wizard or a warrior."

"You're saying," Mrs. Cross said. "If she does survive, she'll be a hybrid or taken away."

Jessamine cast a sideward glance at the parents. "Would you rather her die?"

The couple didn't say anything. Jessamine handed them a bottle of murky liquid and written instructions. The couple took them and read them.

"By asking for my help, you know what this means for her." Jessamine said, not looking up from her folder where she scribbled Amen's results.

"We know." Mr. Cross said.

"Give the child a teaspoon everyday. Everyday and never miss a dose." Jessamine instructed.

"Is this Weirsbane?" Mrs. Cross asked.

"It is." Jessamine said, still not looking up from her clipboard. "If we can stop her from manifesting, it may slow the conflicting."

"What if she doesn't become a warrior?" Mr. Cross asked. "What if she becomes a wizard, or some kind of hybrid like you said."

"If she becomes a wizard, she'll be left alone, or it powerful enough, most likely be adopted by the White Rose family, an honor and privilege, where she'll be watched over by me most likely. If she becomes a hybrid, she'll most likely be left alone or if she raises enough clamor, be taken for examination."

"You'll experiment on her." Mrs. Cross spat.

"If we are to fully understand a condition like your daughter's, it may be necessary, but only to help those who will be like her in the future."

Mr. and Mrs. Cross gathered up Amen and began to gather their other things. Amen glanced all around, committing everything to her already active memory. Jessamine caught the baby's dark, green eyes and waved. Amen didn't respond, already sensing the evil that lurked within. Without another word, the couple left with their child and headed for the airport.

--

Seven Years Later . . .

Mr. and Mrs. Cross stand, crying next to each other. Mr. Cross is rubbing Mrs. Cross' shoulder sympathetically as she cries and wipes the tears with a handkerchief.

"I just can't believe it's happened so fast. So quick." Mrs. Cross said.

"We both knew this day would come," Mr. Cross said. "I just never thought it'd be this beautiful."

And it was beautiful. A small, rectangular cake sat in the center of a table. On it, the words Happy Seventh Birthday, Amen were scrawled in frosting on the top. Amen was upstairs with Jessamine on her yearly visit to examine her. As usual, it was taking a long amount of time to examine Amen's stone properly, but it was taking unusually long that day. Jessamine practically ran all the way down the stairs with exciting news.

"Her chances of survival just sky rocketed." Jessamine said.

Mr. and Mrs. Cross cheered loudly, kissing each other in celebration.

"What's happened?" Mr. Cross pondered and immediately wish he hadn't.

"She made it to seven," Jessamine said. "Most children with stone complications don't live to see four. The fact that she's lived this long it amazing and most intriguing."

"Thank you so much, Dr. Longbranch," Mrs. Cross said. "We owe you everything."

"Yes." Jessamine said. "Yes you do."

Jessamine gathered her things and left, and Amen came downstairs. She peeked around the corner and scanned the kitchen with her dark green eyes, black hair falling around her face. Satisfied with her findings, Amen appeared from behind the wall wearing a black t-shirt that was evidently way too big for her and a pair of black cargo pants with numerous pockets.

"Amen," Her father sighed. "I wish you wouldn't insist on hiding upstairs while Dr. Longbranch is here. We owe her a lot."

"I don't like her, Daddy," Amen said in a small voice. "She's . . . different."

"You can't not like people because they're different from me and you." Mr. Cross said.

"She's different from me and you, Daddy. She's like me and Mommy, but not like us too."

Her father looked at her bewildered. Amen never ceased to amaze. He felt her forehead and examined her face.

"Did you take your medicine today?" Her father asked.

"I don't like it Daddy," Amen said truthfully. "It tastes bad and it makes me feel funny."

"It suppose to make you feel funny." Mrs. Cross said. "That's how we know it's working."

"But I don't like the way it makes me feel," Amen protested. "It makes me feel . . . dull."

"Dull?" Mr. Cross said, cutting up the cake into small slices.

"Yeah," Amen said. "Like I can't see things as clearly as I can when I don't take it. And I can't think as clear. Everything just seems duller. I seem duller. I just feel stronger without it."

"It's suppose to do that." Mr. Cross said, handing Amen a piece of cake where she was sitting on the floor. "It helps your heart. If you have too much strength, it could hurt your heart. So you take that medicine to protect your heart."

"My heart? Or whatever else is in there?" Amen asked.

Keen, Mr. Cross thought. Very keen.

"What else could be there?" Mrs. Cross laughed nervously.

"Whatever it is Jessamine keeps checking whenever she comes. You know, the thing she checks with the silver cone thingy."

"Whatever do you mean?" Mr. Cross asked his daughter, who seemed to already know more than it seemed.

"The thing that's fighting inside me." Amen said with pinpoint accuracy.

"Where would you get and idea like that?" Mr. Cross said.

"I'm seven, Daddy, not deaf. I could hear you guys talking upstairs." Amen said, taking a huge bite out of her cake.

Mr. Cross cast a worried glance at Mrs. Cross. Already, the telltale signs of manifestation of a wizard were showing. Sign #1: Increased logical activity (only applicable to some). A knock at the door caused Amen to jump and run through the house like it was on fire. Happy chattering echoed throughout the house as Amen let the visitors in and led them inside.

Amen reappeared with a second girl next to her, smiling and talking away. The girl had blonde hair and deep, blue eyes. She was small and angelic in a way that it was effortless to her. She and Amen took seats next to each other at the table while Mr. and Mrs. Cross rose to greet their visitors.

"It's great to see you again Mr. and Mrs. Downey." Mr. Cross greeted. "Amen's been ecstatic about having Linda over."

"Well, she's been just as excited to see Amen." Mr. Downey said, shaking Mr. Cross' hand. "Why has she been out of school so much?"

"Her heart," Mrs. Cross said. "It's acting up again, but not as bad as when she was a baby."

"That's good." Mrs. Downey said. "Linda's been very concerned. Although, she'll be doing that a lot now."

"And why's that?" Mrs. Cross inquired.

"Linda's just become and aunt!" Mrs. Downey said excitedly. "Our other daughter, Rebecka, has just had her baby this past week. Jackson Downey Swift, isn't that a great name? He's actually had heart problems like Amen."

"Just like Amen?" Mr. Cross said in a suspicious voice.

"Exactly like Amen." Mr. Downey said gravely. "They even had him sent to the same doctor," Linda shrunk in her seat at the mention. "He's much better now. Thriving, actually."

"Well, it's great to hear." Mr. Cross said. "So, you'll come back to pick Linda up, or would it be more convenient for us to drive her home?"

"Actually," Mr. Downey said awkwardly. "I was wondering if she could spend the night. Something's come up and . . ."

"It's perfectly fine." Mrs. Cross said. "Amen will make sure Linda's comfortable."

"Are you sure you can with Linda being . . ."

"Linda will be fine." Mr. Cross assured. "Amen's not that much of a handful and she'll make sure Linda's fine."

"Thank you so much," Mr. Downey said, shaking both their hands again. "We've got to get going."

The adults filed out of the room, talking in low voices in the other room. Despite their lowered volume, Amen could hear every bit of the conversation.

"What did Dr. Longbranch say about Amen? How did the check up today go?" Mrs. Downey asked.

"She said that since Amen's made it to seven, she's got a better chance of surviving." Mrs. Cross said.

"It's such a relief." Mr. Cross said.

"Good for you." Mr. Downey said.

The two stepped outside in the pouring rain and hurried to their car. They drove down the street and turned a corner out of sight. The Crosses retreated back into the kitchen where Linda and Amen were sitting, innocently chewing on cake.

"It seems things won't pan out as we thought they would." Mr. Cross murmured.

--

Within a short amount of time, Linda and Amen were upstairs preparing for bed. Amen had lent Linda some extra sleeping clothes and they were both in the bathroom brushing their teeth over the sinks, standing on two risers.

"Linda," Amen said after rinsing the sink and stepping down from the riser. "Why were your parents . . . apprehensive about you staying with us because of me?"

"Well," Linda said. "They know about your heart problems and my parents wanted to make sure I wouldn't be a burden."

"There's nothing wrong with my heart," Amen said, taking Linda's hand and helping the shorter girl off the riser. "It's something else near my heart."

Linda was silent for a moment. "What else could it be?"

"I don't know," Amen said, leading the other into the small room adjacent to the bathroom. "My parents won't tell me. I told them that whatever it was fighting and that's why Dr. Longbranch keeps giving me that medicine. But it's gross and makes me feel weird, and I won't take it."

The two sat on Amen's bed and talked all night about her condition. Linda knew more than Amen. A lot more. Amen decided to probe deeper.

"You're different Amen," Linda said, not looking at her. "We're both different from other people."

"But at the same time," Amen said. "I'm different from you."

Linda nodded. "You're special, Amen. We both may be different, but you're special."

"Why?"

"Because your Weirstone . . ." Linda stopped.

"Don't stop." Amen demanded. "I want to know."

"I can't be the one to tell you." Linda shook her head, tears rolling down her cheeks. "Not here. Not now."

Silence was the only voice for the rest of the night. In the morning, the two hardly spoke a word to each other. Before Linda left the next day, she gave Amen a quick hug before she left, apologizing quietly and privately for her secrecy. Amen told her it was okay, but her voice wouldn't play along. Linda left with her parents and Amen went back upstairs to her room.

--

Amen is sixteen and in highschool. Schooling and grades come easily to her and her still best friend, Linda. The two are the intellectual heads of the grade and are related in more ways than that. After a prolonged soccer practice, Linda and Amen say goodbye and pile into their parents cars. Amen feels oddly sharper today, noticing small things that before were insignificant. Like the smell of the wind, the odd pulsating feeling around Linda, and the odd idea that she felt invincible. She definitely looked the part.

Amen's never weighed more than 128 pounds. A recent check up from Dr. Longbranch confirmed that she gained twelve pounds and every ounce of it was, as she said it, "gorgeous, sculpted muscle". This initially freaked Amen out, the fact she had to buy new clothes to fit her new build. She'd always been muscular from soccer, having twenty other pounds of muscle before the recent gain. Her parents told her to get in the house and wait in the kitchen. She did and wondered why. Her parents filed into the house, locking the door and shutting off the lights.

"Amen," Her mother said. "We want you to know that after everything you've heard tonight, we love you just the same as if you were normal."

Amen didn't reply. She kept her eyes fixed on them and her hands folded under the table. Her parents sighed. They had expected such a stony-faced response from Amen. But it was time.

"Amen, you know that medicine you should have been taking? The one for your heart?" her father asked.

"Yes." Amen said in a low, barely audible voice.

"It's not medicine for your heart." Her father admitted.

"I know it's not." Amen said. "Remember eight years ago? I told you it wasn't, but you told me I was just making it up. It seems you were making stuff up all along."

"You're different from other kids," Her father said. "Not just because of your recent transformation, you're always been different."

"I could tell." Amen said.

"You're part of a society of magical people, called the Weir, who live among regular people and Anaweir." her father explained.

Amen remained silent, waiting for a full explanation.

"Weir are gifted people whose powers are passed down from one generation to the next. A crystal, called a Weirstone, that rests behind the hearts of each Weir determines what kind of power. There are many different kinds of Weirstones and many different kinds of Weir. Warriors, wizards, soothsayers, enchanters, all different kinds."

"That's what Linda is." Amen said. "An enchanter."

"Yes, she is." Mr. Cross said. "A minor branch of Weir, but a powerful one at that. The most powerful branch of Weir are the wizards. They rule all other guilds because their spoken magic can take any shape or form."

"What am I?" Amen asked.

Silence hung in the air. Her father cleared her throat. "We're not entirely sure what you are, Amen. You are a pure Heir, or someone who is born with power gifted to them, but your stone is from two different guilds of Weir."

"What two?" Amen asked.

"I," Her father began. "Am a warrior and your mother is a very powerful witch. We're still unsure of what Weir you are because you're, well, both."

"What?" Amen asked. "How is that possible?"

"Your stone was bestowed with the power of both a wizard and a warrior," Her father explained. "It was fighting with itself for dominance over your body. It was tearing itself to shreds trying to gain control. We took you to all sorts of doctors, but nobody could figure out what to do. Hope of you living long looked bleak.

"But then a surgeon told us about Dr. Longbranch, a doctor who specializes in Weirstone doctoring. We took you to her and told us we could do nothing but wait and see what happened to the Weirstone."

"You gambled my life." Amen said plainly.

"No, we didn't," Mr. Cross said, a smile spreading across his face. "You lived to seven and your chances of living sky rocketed, but they went down slightly after you decided against taking the Weirsbane. Although, it appears manifestation has had no affect on your stone."

"Manifestation?"

"The act of honing your skills as they begin to reveal themselves to you. Kind of like magical puberty."

"Great. That's twice puberty's going to hit me in the face."

"Actually, three times," Her father corrected. "But it seems the wizard and warrior have began manifesting already, so you don't have to worry about that. Your recent build is from the warrior inside beginning to come to the surface."

"Despite manifesting, you grew older. Soon you reached fourteen, twice the age anybody estimated you'd live. Now your sixteen and we believe you're old enough to be told everything about who you are. About your stone and what's happening to the world around you. Have you noticed things around you becoming sharper, easier to see? Have you ever felt something whenever Linda is near you?"

"Yeah," Amen nodded. "I've noticed things that were insignificant before. And Linda, it's like something pulsing form her whenever I get near."

"Your powers are coming to head. We need to have them controlled or else they'll find you." Mr. Cross said.

"Who'll find me?" Amen asked.

"Wizards," Her father said. "They'll take you away and make you fight in tournaments called the Game. They battle for power from each other and have done so for centuries. Currently, the White Rose is Holder of Tournament Cup with their premier wizard . . ."

"Jessamine Longbranch." Amen said disdainfully.

"They'll often take warriors at a young age. They've become rare after a failed breeding project. You and I are one of the last few," Her father said. "Your friend Linda's nephew, Jackson, he's a warrior too."

An uncomfortable silence hung in the air.

"You are not a full-fledged warrior, and if something happens to change that, you may not have to fight in the Game. Your stone may give way and finally surrender to a side, weather it be wizard or warrior. There's also the chance it might kill you by destroying itself."

"If Jessamine is part of the White Rose," Amen said. "Then by making sure I"m growing, she's securing me as a player on her team. She's calling dibs."

"In a way, yes." Her father said. "But until the stone shows any signs of changing you may not have to play the Game."

"I won't play the Game." Amen said. "But I'll play their game."

"Don't try too much, Amen," Her father said. "Just last Sunday when Dr. Longbranch was here, she informed us of something terrible."

"Oh god," Amen muttered.

"The stone, after all these years, has showed something unusual. A crack has appeared in the very top. It's small, but we fear it may spread, which it has."

"So I'm going to die." Amen said. "Lovely."

"You might not."

Keyword, Amen thought. Might.

The next day . . .

"I understand why you wouldn't tell me that night," Amen said, walking next to Linda. "It was too much for me to take even last night."

"I'm so sorry, Amen." Linda said, her blue-gold eyes full of sorrow. "I wanted to tell you, but I knew this was something they needed to tell you."

"Well, as long as the stone shows no sign of progress, I'll be okay." Amen said.

"What'll happen if they make you fight in the Game?" Linda said. "People will try to kill you."

"Then I'll just have to kill them first."