I was standing in Cathedral grove, the oldest living forest on Vancouver Island. We’d passed it on our way to Tofino. There was a snake, with unusual brilliant blue scales and a head that looked as though it had been dipped in red paint. And she—yes she—was talking.

“You will be reborn Quinn.” Her voice echoed through my head, and a deep chanting began around us. Pain erupted throughout my body from out of nowhere, pulsing in time with the beat of the chanting. It was as if the very earth and trees picked up on the rhythm of pain that rippled through me; each word spoken caused my blood to pulse, filling me with agony. The points where Grandpa’s hands and fingers had bit into me were filled with an intense heat that increased the longer it went on. I fell to the ground, my hands wrapping around my neck trying to stop the burn.

“You will become what your destiny calls you to become.” A new pain started low in my belly, not fire like around my neck, but sharp slices, as if I was being skewered on my own knife. Over and over again the phantom knife ripped into me, and finally I began to scream. A hand clamped over my lips and I tasted the ocean on his skin. It was with very little thought that I bit down, tasting blood. But it wasn’t the coppery tang that I was expecting. Rich and vibrant, it reminded me of the voice on the phone, the surfing instructor of all things.

“You will be a warrior,” the snake said.

The chanting around us picked up speed, and with it the beating of my heart and the rush of my blood through my veins. Sweat poured down my face as I huddled on the ground, and curled around myself. It felt as if each organ within me was being pulled out, re-arranged, slammed back inside me and then, for good measure, had hot acid poured over them. Someone was there, hands holding mine, one slick with blood where I’d bitten him. I blinked but could see nothing past the haze of pain and fire that filled my vision.

“Hang on Quinn, it’s almost over.” A voice—his voice. Damn, it was the surf instructor. A hand brushed a stray curl from my forehead.

“You will be a leader.” The snake’s voice rippled through me.

The screams began again. They were shrill, shrieking screams, that of a dying and wounded animal that hadn’t yet given up. But even they faded into moans as my voice and lungs gave out.

“You will save your world and ours.”