Infinite Sacrifice (Infinite Series, Book 1) Read online

  INFINITE SACRIFICE

  The First Book of the Infinite Series

  L.E. Waters

  Smashwords Edition

  Published by Rock Castle Publishing

  Copyright © L.E. Waters, 2011

  Cover by S. Frost Designs

  e-book formatting by Guido Henkel

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  I dedicate this book to all of the characters in my life…

  thanks for the inspiration

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Foreword

  I researched the time periods portrayed in my books and pulled many of my ideas from historic events. When I involve historical people in my books, I try to portray them accurately but take fictional liberty with conversations, timelines, and mysteries—filling in the details absent from written record. The reader must remember that this is, first and foremost, historical fantasy fiction. I maintained a sense of magical realism throughout and hope the reader will take such leaps of imagination with me, assured that there is fundamental support underneath this novel but keeping an open mind to enjoy the story envisioned.

  If there are any doubts as to the accuracy or plausibility of story lines, please visit my website, www.laurenwaters.net, where I dedicated a whole section to a bibliography and more detailed research behind this fictional piece just for those who might enjoy reading further about these cultures, events, and people.

  In regards to the spiritual/religious aspect of this book, it is not meant to come across as non-fiction. This is how I perceived heaven to be in an artistic sense and hope there are readers out there who will consider it enough for the simple enjoyment of storytelling.

  If at any time you should find yourself confused with so many intricate character histories, I have provided a helpful chart that tracks each character’s traits and progression at the end of each life. It is there to use at any point during each life to enhance the reader’s experience.

  I would love to take this moment to thank you for reading this novel and if you could take a moment to review my book where you purchased it, I would be extremely appreciative. Reviews are essential to independent authors like me and even one or two comments can do wonders for my series’ exposure.

  Prologue

  Disharmonious, chopped sounds surround me as I fly through darkness. Lights flash far away in liquid black, as if I’m looking up from the ocean floor, the sun streaming through the distant surface. I speed nearer toward the light, which glares brilliantly with painless intensity. I absorb it through every pore. I crave getting closer to it, to penetrate farther, deeper—saturating me in a peace I never knew existed.

  I find myself standing trail-edge in a forest, looking out across an expansive clearing with an island of wheat fields before me. The light is golden and glowing off the fields and a warm breeze causes the wheat and trees to roll like seaweed in strong current. I release the grip of my hand that Ellie was just clutching.

  Am I having another morphine dream? Did I slip into a coma? Where am I?

  A figure moves toward me, out of the pulsing light.

  Finn? I hope it’s another dream about Finn.

  Instead, a simple old man dressed in a white tunic and loose pants strides forth, barefoot, and smiles as if we’re good friends.

  “Do I know you?” I ask, sure he’s mistaken.

  “I’ve known you all your lives.” His sea-glass blue eyes gleam through happily squinted lids.

  Nothing makes sense.

  “Where’s my family?” I say, turning away, searching for them. “I need to be with my family right now.”

  Stretching his arm up with surprising speed, he touches my shoulder; I calm, all anxiety forgotten. He takes my hand within his; warmth travels up my arm.

  “Come with me.” His measured words resonate.

  The fields dissipate, and a vast ocean now rolls before us. Seagulls cry out, gliding on strong winds, and sandpipers scatter as the waves crash onto their sands. The old man gestures to pick one of the two wooden beach chairs facing the water.

  “Where am I?”

  He begins as I settle in the low chair, “My name is Zachariah. I am your spirit guide.”

  Pulling my hair from my face, I look over at him. “Am I dead?”

  He simply nods but holds my eyes with a gentle look.

  Strangely, I’m not panicking. The beach looks just like the beach where I spent my summers, with sea-green surf the shade of Finn’s eyes as the waves crest with the sun behind it. I’m reminded of the first time I looked into them as he kept a tennis ball out of my reach—and how shimmering green—they stole my breath. As I dig my feet into the flour-like sand, it brings back memories of Finn and Ellie running with me on this same sand, playing games only children play. Yet we never stopped playing them, even after college. We drew looks from the passersby on the boardwalk as we wrestled, threw sand on each other, and ran into the surf with all our clothes on. I can hear Ellie’s high-pitched lyrical laughter gliding on top of Finn’s childish giggle, sailing to me in this chair where I sit without them now.

  My hair blows across my eyes again, and I realize my short, brittle permanent is gone. My hair’s long and silky around my shoulders. I glance down at my legs—the tan, strong legs I haven’t seen for fifty years. I straighten up from the hunched position I’d grown so used to.

  “I’m sixteen again!”

  “Souls appear the age they felt their best.”

  My eyes dart to his aged form in silent question, and he grins. “This is how I feel most comfortable.”

  I look down at my hands—young hands! No spots, no veins, no shaking. Only smooth, peach, beautiful hands. Ah! I forgot how great this feels! No aches, no pains, only flexible strength and boundless energy. I want to run across the beach and do cartwheels!

  As though he reads my mind, Zachariah gestures over to the sand. I bounce up and do ten perfect cartwheels in a row, the sand spiraling out from between my toes as I complete each one. I finish and point toward the water, and he nods with a smile. I take off, stepping over the small waves and jumping over the larger ones until I’m past the break. The waves surge and pull as I dive under the bubbled froth of white repeatedly. The womb-water calms, and I float over the now sleepy waves.

  When was the last time I swam?

  My ears are submerged as I stare into the cloud-filled sky.

  But where is everyone else?

  As soon as I think about leaving the water, I’m instantly back in the chair and dry to the touch. I turn to him with a puzzled look. Zachariah replies, palms up, “No towels in heaven.”

  I sigh and glance around for something more. “So is this it? Do I just sit here, swim all day, and do cartwheels with you?” His serious expression conti
nues regardless of my attempt at making him laugh—maybe spirit guides don’t laugh. “This can’t be heaven. I thought I’d see those who passed before me. Where are my mom and dad? Why isn’t Finn here?”

  Things start to darken around me until Zachariah places his hand on my arm and everything illuminates.

  After a long pause, he clears his quiet throat and divulges, “This is a stage in heaven.”

  I wait, hoping my silence will force him to elaborate.

  He coughs again, as if his throat fought to stay closed, and states, “I brought you here to relax while you adjust. It’s a difficult transition. My job is to keep you calm in order to bring you back to your full consciousness.”

  “Full consciousness?”

  “While living, there are areas of the brain that remain off-limits. After you die, you’re allowed full access. If I were to give you this access all at once it would be overwhelming and potentially dangerous.”

  “Why do I need to have full consciousness?”

  “So you can remember your spiritual journey and all you’ve learned to go forward with your next phase.”

  “Like, have my life flash before me?”

  His tight smile makes his eyes twinkle. “No, have your lives flash before you.”

  “Lives? I’ve lived before?”

  Just like that psychic had said.

  “Yes, a number of times before, Lazrina.”

  “My name is Maya,” I say, suspicious he did mistake me.

  He cracks a slight smile. “That was your last life’s name, but your soul’s name is Lazrina.”

  The name that crazy psychic called me.

  I look around again. “Do you have to hypnotize me so I can access my full consciousness?”

  “No need for that. When you are ready, I’ll touch your arm and you’ll gradually access different parts of your mind, absorbing it back and creating a cohesive whole. Then you can move on—move on to see your loved ones.”

  “Okay, I’m ready then.” I close my eyes and put my arm out.

  “No, you’re not.” He pushes my arm back toward me gently. ”You need to understand a bit more before we do that. First, you need to understand you’ll be seeing your lives like watching a video in your mind.”

  I try to imagine what that would be like. “Like I’m sitting in a theater watching it?”

  “No, more like you’re in a lucid dream. You’ll open your eyes and you’ll hear, see, smell, taste, and feel everything that happened to you before. Also like a dream, you won’t be able to wake until the viewing is over.”

  This sounds like torture. “If I watch every moment, won’t that take years to watch?”

  “You’re going to see your past lives as you remember them; there will be large gaps in time and missing information. You will only be watching moments of great importance. After you watch every life, you’ll fully remember that life. It will become a part of you, which can be difficult and stressful to accept.”

  “Do I watch the life I’ve most recently left first?” A sick feeling in my stomach grows as I wonder if I’ll witness it all over again; it was hard enough getting through it all the first time.

  He shakes his head. “No, you must view each life from your first incarnation to your last.”

  “Can I choose not to go through with this?”

  “You can. We can just sit here, but then you can’t move on further to be reunited with the ones you want to be with right now.”

  It was like those mornings as a child when I’d wake up to the rare smell of pancakes, and when I rushed downstairs, all my siblings would be carrying syrupy plates to the sink—no one had thought to even wake me! Here they are again, somewhere farther in heaven, all together, without me, while I’m stalled in this whole process.

  “All I want to do is see them. I’ve waited so long.” Tears run down once I blink. “And now you’re telling me that I may never see them again?”

  “I have no doubt you will get through this. You always have, but I can wait until you feel you’re ready to start. I’ll try my best to prepare you and create a soothing atmosphere that will allow you to accept what you see. I can answer most questions you have and we can stop at any point until you are able to move on. Time is different here.”

  “What do you mean time is different here?” He couldn’t gloss over that.

  “Just like gravity is different on different planets, time is different here. It’s not easy to compare to earth time. But you can relax and move at your own pace.”

  “Are you saying Ellie is already dead?”

  “Yes, your sister’s here.”

  The moments I’ve spent here with Zachariah must have been years on earth if Ellie had died. I feel terrible not being there for her, I wish I could’ve been there to welcome her but then again, Zachariah was the only one there for me.

  “Is she going through this stage right now too?” I can just imagine her yelling at her spirit guide somewhere near here, even more frustrated at being delayed than I am.

  He nods. “But all the others are waiting.”

  “All?”

  “Everyone you’ve been waiting to see.”

  “Can I just see them first?” I scan the empty sand dunes blowing behind me.

  “No, I’m sorry.”

  I close my eyes and bend into the lotus position in my chair. “Well, let’s start, then, and get this over with.”

  He notices my assumed position. “Patience is definitely not one of your virtues. I think we should make a note of that for your next incarnation,” he says, yet quickly adds, “That is, if you need another one, of course.”

  “You mean I might have to go back?” Panic flashes hot under my skin; I’d assumed once I reached heaven, I would get to stay. I can’t go through it all again.

  He places his hand on top of mine. “It’s a very long journey, and it is possible you must live more lives.”

  “Does that mean everyone important to me might be done with their incarnating? Will I have to go back alone if I’m not done?”

  He closes his eyes, and I witness the intense light flare from his hand clutching mine crawl up my arm and push out all worry from my tense body. I take a deep breath and relax again.

  He withdraws his smooth hand. “Now, I have to tell you, once you start viewing, you can’t stop until that life is done. Even if you are watching something difficult, I can only try to calm you, but it will still be unpleasant.”

  “Is that what you’re doing when you touch me—some sort of mood control?”

  His eyes twinkle. “One of my many talents.”

  I just want to get this over with. “Let’s begin, then, before I change my mind.”

  “I must also warn you, we will be starting with your very first life. When a soul is in its early stages of evolution, it’s raw. Everyone begins with much more negativity than positivity, but through difficulty and love, a soul steadily increases its vibration.”

  “Okay, you lost me. I think I need my full consciousness just to absorb this conversation.” I squint. “Evolution… like Darwin?”

  “We call it evolution here because it’s the best way to explain the process. Similar to evolution, the soul is perpetually changing, and it takes many generations for evolution to occur. You have to look at many lives to see its progress.”

  He pauses and studies my expression to see if I absorbed that before continuing. “The speed of evolution can be different for different souls. Isolation of a population hastens this process, which is why so many souls reincarnate in the same groups.”

  “Groups?” I ask, but he keeps with his line of thought as if reading some sort of invisible manual.

  “The greater the selective pressure is on a soul, the quicker the evolution. This is why many souls choose such tragic events but run the risk of suicide not being able to withstand the despair that ensues. Some cautious souls choose steadier lives at the risk of gradual change, while some may actually regress. Not all evolution serves a p
urpose. There is no formula for it.”

  “Have you been in any of my lives?” I don’t think I absorbed half of what he said.

  He looks away, gaze pensive on the waves. “I choose not to incarnate anymore.” He draws one side of his closed mouth up and raises his eyebrows. “The evolution is slower, but I can still learn from you—vicariously, of course.”

  “Why do people even do this at all?”

  “It is the only way we can become part of the light.” He holds his slender hands up to the sky, where the light is shining down all around, unlike the sun I was used to—originating from one spot.

  I hadn’t even realized I was holding the arms of my chair so tight; I loosen my grip and wiggle my fingers to ease their tension.

  Zachariah continues, “When you begin to reincarnate with some of the same people, there will be things you subconsciously recognize—certain identifying features they carry in every life.”

  “Which features?”

  “To start, everyone’s eyes stay identical. Always the same shape, size, and color. There’s a profound effect when you look into someone’s eyes that you have known for centuries.” He taps a slender finger beside his jeweled eye.

  “What else?”

  “They’re called beacons, and they exist to guide you to certain souls.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “In your first life, you will be brand-new, as are many of the key people in that life—hence all the chaos you will see. It’s never a pretty picture when you get a lot of new souls together. In all the lives after, you will subconsciously recognize these marks. These beacons will either draw you in or repel you.”

  “What kind of marks?”

  “The first traumatic death a soul experiences will stay with them. Where do you think you got that spot on your left hand from?”

  “Oh, right! My mole!” I pull my hand in front of my face to see the mole I would never let the dermatologists remove.