Power Rangers Zeo - Venusian Encounters by Heather Ray (english novels to improve english txt) 📖

How can I say this enough? Thank you to everyone that has kept up with all my books! You all are awesome! When I started adapting my fanfiction to these books, I was just doing it in order to introduce the Power Rangers to a new generation and to also help reluctant young readers to find a new love for reading. But I have found out that with each new book there is resounding success! Thank you all so much!

In an alternate reality, distant in the Multiverse, there is a race of warrior women known as Venusians. Their past is shrouded in mystery, yet their culture has been intertwined with that of mankind since the beginning. These immortals, skilled in sorcery, existed with humanity for centuries. To learn their story, and how they clash with the Power Rangers Zeo, I invite you to read on...

The Power Rangers are Saban Brands, but the Venusian Encounters Saga is mine. Venus Island is Saban's, but the Venusian culture is my own. I know this is a strange way to tie up the Venusian Encounters storyline, and this isn't how I planned the story to end... but it was an idea I couldn't put away, taking place decades after "Water Runs Dry."

The title and the quote below are both from Andrew Marvell's poem "To His Coy Mistress."

"It was a stroke," the aged doctor said, sighing weakly as he glanced down the diagnosis form in his hands. An ominous frown wrinkled his dark features, and his almond eyes narrowed behind his gold-framed reading glasses.

He pressed the bridge of his nose wearily, and gazed up at the woman he was speaking to. She seemed to glow faintly, contrasting to the inky blackness of night through the open window that served as her background. She was short in stature and slim in form, with a seamless, almost ethereal beauty to her face that spoke of youthful vigor. Caramel hair, sweeping halfway down her back, shimmered in the sterile light of the hospital room.

To anyone looking at her, she wouldn't appear more than twenty-five years old. Perhaps, she could pass for seventeen or eighteen.

Oh, how far from the truth that was, as anyone who looked into her sage hazel eyes would discern. Those eyes were large and bright, yet they glimmered with wisdom, experience, and knowledge that was simply impossible for a young girl to acquire.

In fact, she was as old as the man lying on the hospital bed, breathing slowly with the aid of a respirator, with a peaceful look on his aged bronze face.

The woman's composure didn't change. Her large eyes were fixed on the patient, and her rose lips were pressed tightly together. She didn't cry... no, not a tear was shed. For the well of tears that flooded her soul, none had the solace of escaping from her tortured being.

She knew this day would come. In fact, she had tried hard to prepare herself for it. Through her decades of life, she had seen death many times. Inexplicable tragedy took the lives of several dear friends. Then, the ravages of time took their toll, wearing down all the rest.

The man lying upon the hospital bed was the only one left. He was also the most cherished of all.

She was now ninety-two years old. All her friends would be about the same age... if they were still alive. No, the forces of evil couldn't stop them. Luck was on their side... for the most part, at least. But no matter how brave a human is, there is one inevitability. Death.

One may be fortunate enough not to die from disease, famine, war, or accident. One can take care of himself all his life, eating properly and exercising. Still, age is the killer no one can avoid. It slowly eats away at you like the ocean crashing into a stone, beating on the surface and dragging some of it away, until there is nothing left but sand.

There is no escaping what the simple passage of time does to a physical body. Unless, of course, that person is ageless. Like the woman in the hospital.

"Are you alright, Queen Vespera?" the doctor asked, his voice laced with concern. The woman's lack of a response was startling to the experienced doctor, especially since he was well aware of the relationship she had with the patient, which spanned longer than he himself was alive.

The woman scrunched her nose in distaste, and waved her hand slightly. Although she didn't intend it, her gesture was of a most regal grace. Everything about her spoke of power and influence.

"Don't call me that, Daniel," she said dismissively, "That's not my name. Just call me Kim."

Vespera was the name given to her when she began her full reign of Venus Island. According to tradition, in order to be a full queen, she must be at least twenty years of age. So, in her full coronation, she was renamed Vespera, which is a traditional Venusian name of consequence.

Her people wanted to distance their queen from her human heritage. It is very much understandable, since the Venusian culture is more advanced than humanity on almost all aspects.

Yet, that wasn't what most prompted her counselors to give her a new name. Rather, it was to distance herself from her former life as much as possible. For, there was a cruel reality that came with humanity. Venusians were practically immortal, and lived for hundreds of thousands of years, circumstance permitting. Humans were fragile beings, who died within a century.

Kimberly understood that it was for her own good that she leave behind humanity. But no matter how she tried, she couldn't let go of her friends. She couldn't let go of him, either.

Even after she cruelly dumped him, he was the only thing on her mind. It became something of an obsession... her unrealized dreams plaguing her at every moment. The excitement of her coronation was eclipsed by the awkwardness of being so near him, yet so far. Still, that evening, a lifetime ago, gave her a hope that was entirely illogical, yet wonderful to grasp. Even for a short time.

May 1997

Kimberly walked quietly through the vast and elegant rose garden behind the palace of Mount Ambrosia. Apparently, the previous Venusian queen, Syren, had really loved roses, and had decorated over an acre of land with bushes of roses of all the colors of nature. In the dim light, the white roses had an almost surreal glow to them, reflecting the light that hit them. The only thing in the garden that glowed brighter than the pure, white roses was Kimberly herself. The silver earrings, hair clasps, tiara, and lace on her regal gown made her shimmer like a celestial body, and the soft cape that trailed in the wind behind her were reminiscent of butterfly wings. She tried as hard as she could not to interrupt Tommy, who was still plucking petals off a pink rose laboriously.

His back was slouched, with one arm draped limply around his crimson helmet. His noble shoulders were slightly slouched with the weight of deep thoughts, as his ivory-gloved fingers grasped silken petals with deliberate slowness, just to release his grasp and watch the feeble stretch of pink flutter to the ground.

Rose petals were beautiful in bloom... yet they were so fragile and fleeting. Much like love.

She couldn't deny it... it hurt her so much to see him like that. All she ever wanted was to make things easier, for the both of them. That's why she let him go. She didn't want him to feel chained down by their relationship.

That fact was even more true now, after she dedicated her life to ruling an alien race.

Still, she hoped there was some

way for them to just come to an understanding. Then, her guilt wouldn't be so burdensome, and he could finally comprehend why she did what she did.

Maybe... just maybe... he'd forgive her.

That was all she wanted at this point, and all she could hope for.

"Hello, Kim," he said flatly, his back to her. Kimberly startled, freezing just a few feet behind him like a doe caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.

"How'd you know it was me?" she asked.

"From the sound of your approach," he explained in a measured voice, "The only three people I could think of that would come looking for me are you, Katherine, and Jason. Jason is a skilled marital artist, so he'd be far more quiet. Kat may be a graceful dancer, but she's not sneaky. I would've heard her coming a mile away. You, on the other hand, are right between the two. And, you were coming really slowly, as if you weren't really sure if you wanted to."

Kimberly swallowed nervously, fumbling with a few folds of her elaborate salmon-hued gown. She remained silent for a few moments, watching him return to his task of plucking the pink rose bare. Despite the warmth of the night, she shivered.

"I... I was wondering," she stammered