The attic door creaked shut behind them, leaving the twins alone with the weight of their newfound legacy. The scroll, rolled tightly and secured with a faded silken ribbon, felt strangely warm in Ari's hands. She unfurled it carefully, the parchment brittle with age, revealing intricate symbols and flowing script that seemed to shimmer faintly in the dim light. Eric, ever the pragmatist, pulled out his phone, its bright screen illuminating the cryptic text. He snapped several pictures, a modern counterpoint to the ancient knowledge.
"What do we do now?" Eric asked, his voice a low murmur in the quiet attic.
Ari, lost in the swirling symbols, barely registered her brother's question. She traced a particularly intricate glyph with her fingertip, feeling a faint tingle beneath her skin. "I don't know," she admitted, her gaze fixed on the scroll. "But I have a feeling this isn't just some old family history. It feels... alive."
Suddenly, a sharp crack of thunder echoed through the house, followed by a blinding flash of lightning that momentarily illuminated the attic in an unearthly glow. When their eyes adjusted, they saw a figure standing in the doorway – a woman, cloaked and hooded, her face hidden in shadow. She was tall, almost as tall as Eric, close to 6 ft. Her locs were sun bleached, not quite blonde but light brown and reached down past her shoulders. She held a staff in her right hand that had a strange orb at the end.She radiated an aura of power, a subtle hum vibrating in the air around her, a tangible sense of energy that made the hairs on their arms stand on end.
Fear warred with curiosity as the twins stared at the unexpected visitor. She moved with an unnatural grace, her movements fluid and precise, like a predator stalking its prey. But there was no menace in her eyes, only a profound sense of ancient wisdom.
The woman spoke, her voice a melodious whisper that somehow cut through the oppressive silence of the attic. "The scroll calls to those of the Blood" she said, her voice echoed with a power that seemed to bypass their ears and speak directly to their souls. "The Akin-Soul Style… it chooses its inheritors."
Ari and Eric exchanged a look of stunned disbelief. The woman stepped closer, her shadow stretching across the dusty floorboards. The scent of ozone and something else, something earthy and ancient, filled the air.
"I am Aliah," she continued, her voice barely audible above the renewed drumming of the rain against the roof. "I am a cultivator, a guardian of the Orisha Clan's legacy. Your grandmother knew this day would come."
The word 'cultivator' hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. Ari and Eric, armed with only their curiosity and the knowledge gleaned from the scroll, were about to step into a world beyond their wildest imaginings.