Free The Healer: A Young Adult Romantic Fantasy (The Healer Series Book 1) by C. J. Anaya

began escalating. Sharp, needle-like pains shot from my jaw to the roof of my skull. I was certain my head would burst if I didn’t leave the room as soon as possible.
    “Her betrothed found out she loved another and sought to fight him, not realizing it was a god he’d be challenging. He attacked Musubi when he appeared at the Holy Cherry tree again. Musubi disappeared, and the priests of the temple were angry for her betrothed’s interference. The legend then goes on to say that the maiden refused to marry her father’s choice of husband and dedicated herself to a life of celibacy as a nun in the temple of Musubi-no-kami. At least, that‘s what the text books say,” Ms. Mori finished cryptically.
    “You mean, that’s not what really happened? Did Musubi love the maiden in return? Because if he didn’t and she became a nun for him then that’s totally messed up,” Angie replied as she pulled out a file and began hacking away at her manicured nails.
    “What do you think really happened, Hope?” Ms. Mori asked. I knew I’d been asked a question, but I couldn’t respond. The pressure had come to a head, and all of a sudden I felt this popping movement like a bubble bursting within my cranium, and a bright, white light blinded me to everything else. I wasn’t in the classroom anymore, but in an entirely different place altogether.
    The room I stood in was large and rectangular. It looked like some kind of receiving room, but was much more ancient in its structure. There were several different paintings strategically placed along the wooden walls. Each painting held different oriental looking men in light robes and topknot hairstyles. There were several ornate looking statues painted in shades of gold, green, and a sort of coppery color. I looked down at myself and saw folds of sea green silk encircling my body.
    A middle-aged Asian man entered the room and walked over to me. His air of authority was unmistakable. Without understanding why, I immediately bent forward from the hip into a reverent bow and stayed like that until I was allowed to rise. He studied me, clearly displeased with what he saw. I didn’t recognize him, but my dislike for him was
    immediate and intense. He sniffed and then spoke to me in a language I was unfamiliar with yet I understood everything he said.
    “You will meet him this evening, my child. Your engagement ceremony will bring joy and happiness to our people. Of this I am certain. I am proud of you young daughter. Fulfill your duty and your destiny.” He didn’t appear too proud. His look of disdain spoke volumes. I stared at him blankly.
    What’s happening to me?
    A loud voice broke into my confusion, pulling me backward and away from the man standing before me.
    “Hope? Were you going to answer the question?”
    I was immediately thrown from the oriental looking room back into my hard, uncomfortable chair. I had no idea what had just happened, but the term “losing it” didn’t even come close to how I felt at that very moment.
    “What does it matter whether it happened exactly that way? Haven’t all of these legends been changed over the centuries anyway?” asked Angie.
    I glanced around the room trying to figure out if anyone had noticed my brief absence. My classmates’ faces were exhibiting a broad spectrum of expressions ranging from slightly sleepy and bored to comatose. It looked as if others had finally succumbed to unconsciousness. Relieved, I sunk into my seat, figuring I’d simply hallucinated again. Not that that particular alternative was any consolation.
    “That’s true, Ms. Bellingham, but despite the different variations you may find in all of these myths and legends there seems to be similar patterns and themes connecting them all together. Don’t you think?”
    “Well, in each situation there are gods of love who get people to love one another through different objects like arrows or cherry blossoms,” said Angie. “What about Freya, though? Did