Sokeefe: The Next Generation

Ellie's POV (during the time of Connor's POV)

A/N: This is the last chapter! Don't worry, though, I will include a few bonus things...and maybe a few things about me (myself), as well as an Epilogue.  Stay tuned in, and don't forget to include feedback, vote and/or leave comments! (Thank you so much guys!!)

"Ellie, I'm going to get you to lift up your leg, so that I can wrap this gater around you. Now, because you have a harness, you will be able to clamber down this steep cliff. See how you go, and just don't look down."

I nod. 

My palms are sweating, my legs quivering. Sweat trickles from my forehead, as I lower myself down, and onto the steep ledge of the cliff below me. It's been two hours since arriving at Kimberly Plains, and research has been doing pretty well for us. Mr. Forkle has since then tested the griffin DNA (as some have been residented around here), to see if they match part of my DNA. The results came through as positive, and - after many fiddles and blood tests - Mr. Forkle finally made the assumption of why I have Griffin DNA. He has told me that there were two ways; 1) being the Griffin DNA might've got in there accidentally in the lab or 2) being the griffin and alicorn DNA may have been purposefully put there, so to block out the possibility of myself manifesting with just one ability, so to lengthen the chance of me having more than just one plain ability. I prefer the second one, but it's really just a matter of theories and beliefs, to be honest. Maybe there was another reason...We just will never know. 

Already three-quarters down the 120 m drop of the cliff, I am surprised of how light-weighted and free I few, as if I'm literally weighing nothing. 

"Tell me when you get to the bottom!" Comes Mr. Forkles voice. 

"Sure!" I yell, just as I reach level ground. "I'm at the bottom now!"

Moments later, Mr Forkle comes stumbling down the cliff, setting himself down, pulling off his and mine's harnesses. 

Out of the rucksack - (A/N: Do elves have those? I'm just going to pretend they do) - Mr. Forkle pulls and a triangular object. He turns to me, handing me the triangular object. 

"This," He says, "Is an imparter. It's an old-fashioned one, and was used by the Ancient Councillors, made for tracking and identifying objects. I obtained this from one of my old colleagues, while working on a project with him. I would tell you his name, but it is closely guarded, and might give away a few..." Mr. Forkle hesitates. "--- er --- details, I think. Anyways, this is yours now; use it at your advantage."

"Thank you," I nod feebly. "But why give something like this to me? Shouldn't the Council or my mother get it?"

"Alexandra," Mr. Forkle leans in. "Don't you realise? This imparter is not built for the Council, not even your mother - who carries many extraordinary talents, if I may say myself - gets this imparter. Only you do." Mr. Forkle clasps the imparter tightly in my palms. "Do not question it. Just use it."

"Mr. Forkle, I'm honoured you think so," I say. "It's a kind thing to say...But, I sort of need to know more about this imparter. What made it so special? Did you know of this colleague before? Please, I'm not rejecting this gift of yours, but I am just curious about its past."

"You have a smart mind, a quick one too, Alexandra," Mr. Forkle gives a crooked smile. "And for that, you deserve this. I have once given this to the wrong person, the wrong hands. And it has not gone well."

I can't help myself, and I blurt out. "Who was he or she?"

"It is a discussion for later, but since you are so keen..." Mr. Forkle turns away, rummaging in his pocket, drinking something. "The answer is this." And he turns to me.

And I stumble back, gasping for air.

For what I see, is not a wrinkly old man, that smells of ruckleberry and plum scents, but something completely different. Someone. My parents have mentioned this person, showed me mind-captured images of him. He is dangerous, unexpected, an evil man. He's a murderer, and thought to be dead. 

His skin is torn, broken into little shards. Weary sky gray eyes stare into my soul, and those tattered pale lips form a perfect curved smirk. His clothes are normal - at least for an elf it is. A simple suit  and human attire, with a glove on a hand...And no hand or glove on the other. 

For what I see, is not Mr. Forkle...

....But Brant Alger, the very criminal who killed my biological mother, Jolie Ruewen. 

"Hello, daughter." His sneer gives me an agitated feeling, a feeling a disgust. His voice is husky, worn out."My name, if you don't know, is Brant Algar. Think you and your little Moonlark mother have finished with me? Well," Brant barks a cold, cruel laugh. "you haven't. But, for now..." With a swift of an arm, Brant grabs me, stringing rope and nets to bound me to a nearby tree.

I struggle. Brant forms a burst of fire in his good hand, reaching for my face... 

"Stop!" I scream. But it's too late. The burn has already smoked away, leaving a crescent-shaped scar on my left arm. I scream in agony, as he reaches for my right arm. "No!" My screams are no use, drowned out by the sound of cracked laughter. 

"You said your mother should have the imparter?"

Fire. Burn. Scar. I scream, over and over.

"Daughter," He sneers the name, as if it is not true, as if I am not what he believes. "The things I have told you are true. But I didn't put in the Alicorn and Griffin DNA. Your mother did. Your dratted kind-hearted mother did. A heart too full of gold, smile blazing with its own type of pride. Rare pride. I loved her, but I wasn't good enough for her. She chose you! The little rat that I wanted as heir! Why you? Didn't you ask that to me? Didn't you question your own sanity? Well, here's why!"

And then, with one last scream of his own, Brant plunges a fire-ball of Everblaze - all in one palm - ---

...And plunges it. Straight. Towards. My. Chest. My heart.

Time stops. I hear myself screaming, begging for it all to stop. I tell Brant I had nothing to do with Jolie, with anything. He freezes a cold, hard glare at me. I twist, trying to reach free of his grasp. 

Then, his hand lands on my left calf. I scream in agony. 

"This," Brant growls. "Is what. You. Get. Little Bitch."

Plunge. Scream. Grasp. Fire. Scream. Pain.

"Brant! Brant! Stop!" I scream one last time, twisting and turning. 

But it's no use. 

And, as the last bits of fire smoke away on my skin, so do I. 

I feel my breath getting shallow. My eyes getting weary. My limbs aching. My heart slowing. 

And within moments, all I can see is darkness. 

Black engulfs me, and my last cry out for help fades, as I black out completely...

WORD COUNT: 1210 WORDS

 END OF BOOK [ Bonus and Epilogues coming soon!]

[ Click 'next part' for Author Comments and Statements, as well as hints to Book 2 (still planning)]