Protogenesis: Before the Beginning Read online

  Protogenesis

  Book One: Before the Beginning

  Alysia Helming

  “Forever and Tonight” song by Greek Music Artist, Kostas Martakis

  © Copyright Alysia Helming 2018

  Black Rose Writing | Texas

  © 2018 by Alysia Helming

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publishers, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a newspaper, magazine or journal.

  The final approval for this literary material is granted by the author.

  Second digital version

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Print ISBN: 978-1-61296-970-1

  PUBLISHED BY BLACK ROSE WRITING

  www.blackrosewriting.com

  Print edition produced in the United States of America

  Forever and Tonight song by Greek music artist Kostas Martakis

  Dedication

  To Hannah, my niece –

  You are my original muse.

  and

  To the people of Greece –

  May your incredible spirit

  persevere through it all.

  Critical acclaim

  "I love strong women and Helene embodies that. This book is a great reminder to dream deep.” –Whitney Reynolds, Host/ EP The Whitney Reynolds Show on PBS

  “If you love mythology, magic, teen love, and mystery this read will definitely satisfy your need for answers and make your heart swell with love.” –The Teen Magazine

  “Helming intelligently sets figures from Greek myth amid the modern-day Greek debt crisis to comment on greed, hubris, and how ordinary people survive. She offers complexity of detail and adventure with intriguing tie-ins to mythology and science.” –Kirkus Reviews

  “It kept my curiosity and imagination guessing all while giving an authentic and knowledgeable representation of Greek culture and mythology!” –Jennifer Stahl, Principal Dancer with the San Francisco Ballet

  “A fascinating story of love, adventure and mystery, all twirled up in a world where fiction meets reality.” –Kostas Martakis, platinum awarded Greek singer

  “This book bridges Greek & American communities with creativity, fantasy and a strong woman main character who learns what she’s really made of.” –Aly Walansky, lifestyle journalist & contributor to Today.com, Popsugar & Women’s Health

  Map Designed by Nasia Kalokerinou of Kinari Design

  www.kinaridesign.com

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Critical Acclaim

  Map

  PART I: Metamorphosis

  Premonition

  1 – Fires of Life

  2 – Trust No One

  3 – American Girl

  4 – The Driver

  5 – Godfather

  6 – Bastet

  7 – The Metro

  8 – The Academy

  9 – Injury

  10 – Secret Room

  11 – Greek Mother

  12 – Temple of Poseidon

  13 – Clarke’s Third Law

  14 – Through the Looking Glass

  15 – Transformation

  16 – The Dare

  17 – Prophecy

  18 – Gaea

  19 – Olympus Arch

  PART II: Synchronicity

  20 – Ballerina

  21 – The Syndicate

  22 – Rock Star

  23 – Agora

  24 – The Mafia

  25 – Miracle

  26 – Scythia

  27 – Artemis

  28 – Thwarted

  29 – The Dance

  30 – Mirage

  31 – The Stronghold

  32 – Another Way

  33 – Lone Cypress Tree

  34 – Revelation

  35 – Believe

  36 – Smoke and Mirrors

  37 – Truth

  38 – Panaxia

  Epilogue

  Forever and Tonight

  More Books Coming Soon

  Excerpt from Book Two PROTOGENESIS: FIRST CURE

  About the Author

  Author of the Song

  Acknowledgements

  BRW Info

  PART I: Metamorphosis

  “Just when the caterpillar thought the world was over,

  she became a butterfly.”

  -Proverb, origin unknown

  Premonition

  This place feels oddly familiar. I’m lying in my bed, staring at a patch of faded yellow peeling paint on the wall, as if in a trance. An old white-rimmed mirror hangs there. But something’s not right. I haven’t seen this paint or mirror in over ten years.

  Everything slowly comes into focus. Nestled in the crook of my arm lies my bright orange stuffed bunny. Mr. Rolly! My favorite stuffy. I can’t sleep without him. A nostalgic aroma fills my senses. I know this place. I’m in my room from when I was a little girl.

  We lived in an old blue farmhouse with so many hallways and rooms that it was easy to get lost there, like a maze with no end. I loved it. No puzzle, maze or code could scare me. The more difficult the challenge, the better.

  What kind of game is this now? I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. The girl staring back at me is not the little girl who once lived here. This girl is seventeen, like me. She is me.

  I take off my glasses and unexpectedly, every detail is amplified, as if in high definition. My long brown hair falls across my pillow in unruly waves. Flecks of violet stand out in striking contrast to the other colors in the irises of my hazel eyes. Not a bad selfie moment. I reach for my phone, but it’s not there.

  Sudden movement draws my gaze up to the ceiling. That’s when I see it. A translucent ghost hovers there. But not just any ghost.

  It’s my mom.

  I should be afraid, right? But I’m not. Ghosts are supposed to be creepy. Not my mom. She is fierce and vibrant. As if her spirit is on fire. Like a warrior.

  Instantly, the yellow peeling paint, mirror and Mr. Rolly vanish. I blink, and my old room is gone. In its place is a cold, dank room with no door. The walls are cobblestone, stained with a splatter of deep burgundy, like dried blood. The rancid stench of decay makes me wince as I search for a way out. The only source of light comes from a small iron-rimmed window on the far wall.

  A piercing scream makes me jump. Now I am afraid.

  I cry out, “Mom, what is this place?!”

  She grins at me and drops to the floor, taking on human form. “You don’t want to know.” Her eyes blaze, f
ull of intensity. I know that look. Survival mode. Time to get serious and do what must be done. No arguments.

  Her long brown wavy hair is swept behind her as she grabs a thick iron pipe, glides to the window and slams the pipe into the glass. It won’t break. She shakes her head, frustrated, but this doesn’t stop her. Not my mom. For her, impossible does not exist.

  She reaches into her pouch, pulls out a small vial filled with shimmering purple liquid and pours it all down her throat. Shuddering, she casts the empty container off to the ground. Her eyes open wide as if she’s choking, but then she’s fine. Steely determination fills her gaze as she grabs the iron pipe once again. This time, she pummels the glass so hard, and with so much force, that she takes out half the wall with the window.

  I reach down to pick up the broken remains of the vial to study it. “What is this, Mom?” I ask, totally astounded. But the ground beneath us begins to quake.

  “There’s no time to explain. Look,” she says, pointing outward.

  I move in behind her and peer outside.

  This is not the Central Valley of California. Not at all. Out in front of me, lies a vast stretch of massive sand dunes, some as tall as skyscrapers, which sweep out as far as I can see. Off in the distance, a gigantic red-hued sun sinks steadily below the horizon.

  Across the sky is the moon, which glows brightly as the atmosphere darkens around it. The ruby rays of sunlight catch something colossal. It looks like an enormous silver pyramid rising sharply up out of the sands, resting on the shores of a scarlet-tinged sea.

  The land beneath us begins to shake harder. Another gut-wrenching scream pierces the silence. Mom gives me a stern look, “We’re out of time.”

  She hoists an immense golden bow on to her thigh and loads the bowstring with an arrow tipped with glowing crimson. Her brow furrows as she draws the string back, aims out the window and releases the luminous arrow. As it sails through the air, the tip bursts into flames, setting the whole arrow on fire.

  She grabs my arm and propels me forward through the crumbling stone in the open wall out to the desert sands. We run up a dune and watch as the fiery arrow grows larger… and larger, until it becomes an uncontrollable inferno. From this chaos, emerges a sight to behold: a massive glorious golden Eagle. The bird of prey cries out as if in triumph over this magnificent birth, extending its enormous wings as it soars over the desert sands.

  My mother’s face softens at this sight, then turns to me. “Strong women aren’t simply born. We are forged through the fires of life.”

  I roll my eyes. I’ve heard her say this probably a million times. “I know, Mom!”

  “You know?!” she says incredulously. “Don’t roll your eyes at me! This is just the beginning of what you know!”

  I cross my arms in defiance. One trait we both share is sheer, stupid stubbornness. I don’t want to fight her. Not here. Not now.

  “Okay,” I say in an edgy voice. “Fine.”

  The enormous golden eagle lands gracefully next to her. My pulse quickens, and I step back in fear. But my Mom, the uber-warrior-ghost, is totally unfazed. She strokes the eagle’s head with ease. “Ah, Aetoa…”

  Aetoa returns her affection, nudging my mom’s hand with her hooked beak. She shifts from one foot to the next, her powerful talons sinking down into the soft sand. Her piercing green eyes study me with keen interest. Like a true bird of prey, she is both terrifying and regal. Thank God my mother has this lethal creature under her control.

  Mom steps away from the eagle, turning her attention to me. “The rest of this journey, you must face alone.”

  “But…” I start to argue with her.

  She cuts me off. “You can, and you will…” she says sternly, then reaches down to smooth back a lock of my hair. I feel the love she has for me in her words, “Remember, whenever you need me, look inside yourself. For all the strength that I have, yours is infinitely more powerful.”

  Bright green light cuts into my vision, blinding me for a moment. When my sight clears, my mother is stroking her chest where her favorite charm lies in a vibrant luster. It’s an intricate design crafted into the shape of a tree. Not just any tree. A Cypress tree. She always wears this charm, never taking it off, not even for a moment.

  “But how…” I start.

  She kisses my forehead. “No matter what, I will be there with you…always.”

  There’s no time to think before she jumps onto the back of the majestic golden bird and they take off, soaring above the vast desert. Before I know it, I can barely see them as they reach the horizon, out past the smoking mouth of a simmering volcano. There, they approach a sight that takes my breath away.

  A cypress tree, just like the charm on my mother’s neck, juts out of the empty sands, standing tall and regal, an anomaly out here in the harsh, unforgiving desert. Jagged branches frame its edges, creating a stunning silhouette against the glow of the slowly sinking red sun behind it.

  A loud shriek comes from behind me. The sound of agony. I need to get out of here. When I turn around, I see the crumbling wall from where we just emerged. The scale of this place shocks me. It’s an enormous black fortress with multiple spires so tall that they seem to reach the clouds above, surrounded by a deep maze of open tunnels. Massive pillars of smoke rise up from the depths of the crevasses etched into the land.

  Darkness overtakes my mother and Aetoa to where I can no longer see them. The large, round moon projects a pale light across the landscape making the stars above very faint and distant. How can I face this journey alone when I have no idea where I am?

  Right before my eyes, the face of the moon suddenly transforms into something else…a shiny amber-colored stone that looks to me like the eye of a cat. And somehow, I am standing now at the base of the lone cypress tree up on a small plateau, looking down at the vast desert surrounding it.

  There, I watch as thousands of soldiers’ march to the steady beat of drums. My pulse quickens as I observe the hauntingly empty eyes of the men, which are a disturbing shade of crimson.

  The drums stop. The soldiers halt abruptly in front of three men, each of whom is impeccably dressed in modern-day business suits. Two of them wear silver rings, and one wears a ring of solid gold. Most surprising, though, is their eye color, an intense shade of purple. The trio seems incredibly out of their element, here in the harsh desert.

  There is something different about the man in the middle. He is exceptionally tall, and well-muscled with broad shoulders. With his imposing stature and stern demeanor, he must be their leader. His face, though, is all wrong. It’s blurred, as if someone has applied an eraser to it, and shadowy, so what remains seems pure evil. I can barely make out his shifting features, but the combined effect of it all…is terrifying.

  He stares with a severe grin at the mass of soldiers in front of him and lifts his hand to the sky. I can see his golden ring glistening in the moonlight. There, etched on the ring, is a twelve-point star.

  In a flash, lightning bolts shoot out of his hand into the heavens. The sound of thunder vibrates the ground. The men sink to their knees with their eyes to the ground.

  They chant, “Zeus!”

  1 – Fires of Life

  Livermore, California – Present Day

  A flash of lightning strikes the spires of the menacing dark fortress, instantly blinding me. A monster lives in that place. I can barely see anything, only murky dark tones of blue, greys, black and red…like fire.

  I should be afraid, but somehow, I’m not. It’s like a match has been lit inside of me. The darker the evil, the brighter my blaze. I know now that the spark was always there. Once a girl, now a woman, forged from the fires of life.

  Slowly, the intens
ity of the colors around me begin to fade. I know this place. Greek mythology. Tartarus. The terrifying dungeon in the Underworld. And Zeus, the most fearsome of all gods.

  Something warm and wet is dripping down my chin. I feel the spittle on my lower lip. The flame inside me is still there, but it waivers a bit as the world around me sharpens into focus. When I look around, I’m startled to see my whole fifth period English class staring at me, including my teacher, Mrs. Dilmore.

  “We were just talking about stories, creation myths, in particular – Eve being created from the rib of Adam, Aphrodite rising from the wave. Why do you think they’ve had such a strong influence over our cultural imagination for centuries?” Her eyes dance with mischief. “Helene,” she says with a knowing smile, “any thoughts?”

  She always calls on me because she knows that unlike the rest of the class, I care about my schoolwork. I need to keep my grades up for college or else meet the wrath of my Mom. But luckily, even in my sleep, I know the answer. I always do.

  “Because even if they’re fantastic and otherworldly, they delve into the most basic human question: where do we all come from?” I say, totally sure of myself.

  A few of my class mates snicker. No doubt they were looking forward to seeing me in trouble for once.

  “Nice save, Helene,” She winks at me. Everyone else moans. “And sometimes, to know where we come from, or at least who we are, we have to lose a great deal first.”

  Thad Williams, a total stoner, leans over to my desk, smirking at me as he chides, “Kiss-ass!!” I stare straight ahead and pretend I didn’t hear him. It’s easier to ignore idiots like him.

  Once upon a time, I used to hang out with that stoner crowd. My sophomore year in high school was tough. I went from aspiring ballerina to Goth girl dressed all in black literally overnight after a wicked dance injury. The “bad” girl in me came out with my desire to wallow in the abyss of my own despair.