The Amber Codex

Sci-Fi meets Celtic Mystery

Writing Prompt by

Bradley Ramsey
Power-Up Prompt #13 - From the Writers Journey
Prompts:

1. Settings: The Simulation

2. Characters: The Enlightened One

3. Conflict: A Glitch in the System

BONUS: Genre Mash Up

I have enjoyed writing the story below. Totally new to me. The Scottish Gaelic used was from my time in Tarland, Deeside - Aberdeenshire. A little token.

Her laughter echoed through the house, little feet dancing across the floor as she chased a beam of light filtering through the coloured window. Tiny fingers traced something unseen, as if tapping out a sequence.

Her mother watched, smiling.

From birth, Aelith was different. Her amber eyes always followed, always spoke. Yet it was her fingers - tap, tap, tap a rhythm she could never place.

“Mama, sweet Mama, come look,” she sang. Milanda walked toward her daughter. Aelith stood still before the window, pointing. She saw the fissure in the sky.

“Mama, birdie different.” Milanda smiled, she noticed too. She scooped Aelith up and carried her to the kitchen.

“Milk and cookies, Aelith?”
“Cookies, water,” the child replied, still tapping.

Aelith grew into a quiet, watchful girl. At school her gaze found every anomaly. Friends laughed when she said the grass felt like glass shards. Deep down she knew she was on a different path. They queried her tapping fingers. She laughed and said it was habit. One thing thought that stood out, she was respected and highly admired by each friend. The teaches quietly honoured her uniqueness. Her school years continued. She was bright and achieved many awards. One afternoon, lying in the grass with her mother, she watched the sky distort into shifting numbers. Her fingers tapped, tap-tap-tap, and the clouds snapped back to normal.

“Mama, why am I different?”
“You’re unique, my darling,” Milanda sighed and watched the affect her taps had on the clouds.

Her fingers tingled, hot.

Milanda’s corner shop bustled with village chatter, a place of quiet commune where every visitor received service that went beyond expectations. A flower, a cake, a tin of tea always freely given at the end of the transaction. Aelith loved watching from her stool. Her mother’s charm forever present. Even the shelves bristled with her handmade goods.

Mrs Sweetwater entered muttering, “silly dog, silly dog.”
“Let me help with your bag,” Aelith said.

The muttering stopped. Heat flared in her fingertips, the shop’s light steadied.

She stepped outside, the street twisted like ribbons until her fingers found rhythm; tap-tap-tap and the world righted itself. Across the road a man watched, unseen by her. At home Aelith stood before the glass cupboard in the dining room. A light glow formed around the leather book. She was so drawn to it, but the cupboard was locked. Access was to be granted by an ancestor, this was her mama. It was a family heirloom of stories and warnings passed down through the generations to each grandmother. In her corner shop as she was dusting a shelf, Milanda clutched her throat, a pulse beat fast. Instinctively she felt Aelith at the Codex cupboard.

“Soon”, she thought, Aelith would know her path.

At eighteen, on her birthday, the big leather-bound book was given to her by her mother. Milanda explained that it was time for the book to pass to a new generation; the book emitted a warmth into her hands. Aelith felt honoured, however, her path was now truly one she knew would be difficult. Touching the heavy leather book the Celtic spirals and geometric shapes lit up, veins of amber threaded their way across the shapes. She felt the glow within the cover. Her amber eyes read patterns beneath the words. Her right hand tingled; light bloomed in her mind. The Codex was not just a book. It was a map, a guide, a mirror. That night she dreamed of ancient fires and low voices. She woke with her hand aflame. Downstairs, her mother looked into the hallway mirror, her features slightly distorted - did she look as old as she felt?

“Things will change now,” Milanda sighed softly. “Tread carefully my child.” She whispered.

Aelith loved the garden. It was a place she cherished. She felt at peace. The trees rooted her, the flowers fed her spirit. She was in deep thought when she looked up and saw the man from the street stood beside the twisted oak. Moonlight shadowed his face, but his presence was magnetic. Her breath caught as his eyes glowed, and an earthy scent reached her. An image entered her mind; three men and the man before her sat around a blazing fire, a shadow above them distorted and mysterious. The name rose from the shadow – Taran - Celtic King of Thunder and Elements. As the image closed, he vanished into the trees as she felt the tap-tap-tap of her fingers. The rhythm draining the energy from her. Aelith pressed a hand to her chest, unsettled by the sudden warmth that was more than power.

The next morning as she walked into the bathroom, she noted the tilt, and the light swirling in a kaleidoscope. Automaticallly she felt the tap-tap-tap of her fingers, they stopped when the room settled, sulphur hanging in the air. Lately she noticed more glitches and strange patterns in code. She realised that her path had been chosen. She knew she must consult the Codex.

The shop buzzed with villagers describing odd visions: an opening sky, words repeating, a piercing hum. Aelith turned the radio to classical music; calm returned, a faint glow beneath the dial. Mama met her eyes and nodded. The glitch hummed and retreated leaving a lingering ozone scent.

Months passed. Seasons shifted. Glitches grew stranger, and Taran appeared whenever the Codex pulsed. An omen? He walked beside her more often now, hair like sunlight, eyes a deep amber. Each glance, a quiet tremor was felt. She guarded the feeling, knowing the danger of wanting him. One afternoon the cows in the field lay on their backs. Her fingers tapped a silent code; the herd righted itself. Taran waited on a log.

“Aelith, Thig thugam.” She stepped toward him and felt his hands lightly touch her waist - come to me, his words pulsed through her, his nearness both comfort and warning.

“You are in danger. Your light is too strong.”
“The thread is unravelling - you know this.” Her heart hammered as she pushed him gently away. He let her.

“Mar sin leat.” Her goodbye echoing into the night. A feeling of un-ease entered her.

That night she dreamed of code draining from people into a vast vacuum. Their memories, their essence. The Codex revealed more each time her fingers traced its veins, yet the meaning stayed just out of reach. By morning she felt the pull of Amalagh’s great library. Packing the Codex, said goodbye to her mama and left for the station. Not surprised she spotten Taran on a nearby bench.

“Off to Amalagh?” he asked.
“Yes. And you?”
“Duty. The Simulators have called a symposium.”

“Bidh faiceallach,” She knew she had to be to be careful. A tear escaped.

“Nì mi sin.” Her, I will, catching in her throat.

When her fingers began their involuntary tap-tap-tap, he caught them, pain shooting up her arm.

“You’re too close,” he said, voice unsteady.
“I have to go,” turned and boarded the train.

It was rather full. She took a vacant seat and set her bag down in front of her feet. A warmth entered her hand; her fingers tap-tap-tapped involuntary. She lifted her eyes and noted that a fissure in the train roof and a void appeared. Around her hand she felt a glow, her fingers kept up the tap-tap-tap, the void disappeared the opening closed. No one had noticed. But this she knew. Taran caught her gaze. Her heart leapt and she felt clammy. She realised that her feelings ran deeper than she wanted. Again a discomfort was felt.

The library loomed in front of her. She loved the building. Steel and glass set at an odd angle, like it had been tilted by an unseen hand, it seemed to float. The library was another world, here she felt comfortable. The door opened as she stepped close, she greeted the librarian and stepped into a pod, the door closing silently. A light flared, the hologram unfolded; Greetings Aelith, place your hand on the pad. A shelf had extended, and she placed her hand onto the pad and she was logged onto the system. A stool appeared and she sat down, took the pulsing Codex out of her backpack and set it onto the shelf. It glowed bright amber, a slight hum could be heard. The screen flickered and a current passed from Codex to the system. A seam opened, not numbers. Not code. Memories.

Images spilled out: a child’s laugh fading to grey, a brass watch unwinding, a woman’s name half-whispered and gone. These were not mere data packets but lives - the warmth of a winter room, the stitch of a sweater. Pools and pools of thread being absorbed and purged. On the screen a line flashed code:

ORIG: elder-archive / HASH: — / INTEGRITY: 0.62.

The atmosphere thickened. She could pull the plug and risk a cascade or let the vacuum finish its theft. Her thumb hovered. Pull the plug, risk collapse – let it finish and become complicit in the theft? Unbidden, Taran’s voice filled her mind, thig thugam…. come to me, his hands at her waist. His warning. His eyes like storm light. But Aelith had never run from what needed her. Her mother’s face rose in counterweight. The shop’s warmth. A flower, a cake, a kindness pressed into a neighbour’s hand. The world she knew was breaking yet still lived. It asked for her.

She steadied the Codex, murmured the old binding phrase. The images smoothed, her heartbeat slowed. Closing the book, she felt its weight had changed, amber veins glowing softly. She exited the system and let out a sigh.

Outside, a streetlamp flickered, pulsing one, then twice. For a brief moment she thought it was tapping back. She slipped the Codex into her backpack and walked to the door, her steps deliberate, each one a quiet vow. The librarian whispered as she passed:

“The streetlamp knows…”

~

Sci-Fi did meet a fable. I truly hope you enjoyed this.