The WishKeeper (The Paragonia Chronicles)

by Timm, Maximilian

  Avery told them Erebus’ plan and how he had been using Death Wishes to grow in strength and power, but what truly frightened them was her admission that she was the one retrieving them for him. Too exhausted to cry, Avery sat and stared, silently thankful to finally be rid of her secret. The only thing is, she didn’t tell them the whole story. She didn’t tell them that Erebus was planning to capture a True Love Wish and combine it with a Death Wish.

  Why didn’t Avery tell them that night? Did she assume they were smart enough to protect a True Love Wish if one was made anyway? She assumed correct, of course, but as she sat in their living room awaiting disaster, a smile of relief slightly spread across her cheeks. She couldn’t do it anymore and her burden was finally released.

  Elanor and Beren argued over their next move while Avery watched, barely listening. Grayson and Miranda were ‘ripe’, as they called it. Ripe for what everyone was hoping for, a True Love Wish. It’s impossible to predict when such a wish will be made, but like trying to predict the weather, it was at least possible to track. Because it was Wishing Eve and wishes are always a bit stronger on such a night, Beren and Elanor agreed that it was very possible their WishMakers could make one that night.

  They planned every precaution possible. After Avery explained to them that Erebus didn’t have a new Death Wish - he hadn’t given her the order yet - they agreed that positioning guards at the entrance of the Death Wish cave was necessary, and that Erebus needed to be removed.

  “He’s gone,” Avery said, in a monotone voice. She was listening to their plan, though barely awake.

  “Gone? What do you mean?” Elanor asked.

  “I went to his chambers tonight, checked The Point, the Nursery, everywhere. He’s gone,” she said, sure of herself.

  “I’ll order the guards, but we have to go, Ellie. It’s getting late and my troops are waiting,” Beren said, grabbing his bags. “We don’t have time to search for him. Avery, I want you to stay here tonight. Shea is coming with us, so you’ll have a little peace and quiet. Just relax and we’ll take care of this.” A look of worry washed over Elanor’s face. There was nothing more to say, and they had a busy night ahead of them. Grayson and Miranda were about to make a True Love Wish. Snatching their things, they left Avery in the darkness of the General’s Quarters.

  Outside the F.I.A., after Beren prepped his WishKeepers for the cross-over and detailed everything, including Erebus’ plans, he pulled a WishSentinel aside. Charlie was a new Sentinel, just added to the ranks. He was an eager, young soldier and because he hadn’t had much training with the WishPanels yet, Beren gave him peculiar orders that had nothing to do with headquarters. Though Charlie didn’t understand why he needed to stand an armed post outside of his General’s own home, he followed orders and gave a quick salute. He was off with a flash, excited to be a part of his first official Wishing Eve as a soldier.

  Beren confirmed Elanor’s worry, sharing a glance. They had to take every precaution, regardless of how much they trusted their friend, Avery.

  When Elanor huddled within the surrounding storm the night she destroyed the True Love Wish, Avery saw it all. She didn’t stay where she was told that night. Instead, she hid within a tall fir tree at the end of the cul-du-sac and watched, stone-faced, as the monster Erebus grabbed Beren. She watched as Shea screamed for her mother not to destroy the wish. She watched Elanor’s wand charge up and destroy it. She watched as Shea’s wings ripped from her back.

  Avery didn’t hear Elanor tell Beren that she loved him, but she knew. She knew that Elanor didn’t love her the way she wished she would, and she knew, the moment that wish of true love was destroyed, her own love was as well.

  Feeling the force of the explosion dissipate, Avery crouched, unmoving within the fir. Her Erebus was gone. Her Elanor was gone. And so was her ability to cry.

  17

  The Street Lamp

  Rarely does the end of a thing happen in an instant. More often than not, glimpses of such an end flash, sparkle and twinkle in a multitude of ways. They are hardly enough to cause alarm, or change, or even any kind of action. For Grayson and Miranda, it was a slow evolution of a feeling that rolled into rising anxiety, but their lifelong friendship glossed and rounded the sharp edges of what was actually happening. Their true love was dying. It took almost six years for either of them to finally take notice, mostly due to their inner need to ignore such a horrible thing. Little did they know, it had been six years since their True Love Wish was destroyed.

  There was an unfamiliar fear growing inside of Grayson. Every time he looked at her, he could feel that something was missing. Like a memory that if remembered it would be a surprise that such a recognizable glimpse from the past was ever forgotten. There had been a disappearance of something so familiar that looking in the place it was last seen felt like common sense, but that place was missing too. How could something so familiar, so every-day, be forgotten? How could it not return without the least amount of effort?

  Miranda looked at Grayson as he sketched in his notebook. A lefty, she watched his hand scribble a chalk sketch of a maple whose leaves had all but fallen. It was late autumn and the golden brown leaves of the park covered the dying grass. There was a hint of winter in the November air, but the humid, moist smell of the slumbering leaves helped hold on to the last few days of a comfortable fall. Grayson’s wedding ring reflected the overcast sun and Miranda couldn’t stop staring at it.

  “I love him. Right?” she quietly asked herself. It was suddenly strange to see the ring. She’d never really examined it with much thought. Looking at her own ring, she lightly caressed it hoping that it would bring back the heart-filled happiness it once represented. Nothing moved within her as she stared at it. A silence of a soul that she remembered once shouted with love. “Where did it go?” she thought.

  “It’s getting a little cold. You can head back if you want,” Grayson said while still scribbling in his notebook.

  His comment broke her from her thoughtful gaze. She didn’t want to stop staring at her ring, as if there was a chance of ending the silence within her if she continued to stare. She looked at Grayson - something inside wanted to smile, but her mouth didn’t seem to want to follow orders.

  “It’s probably the last day we’ll be able to come out here for a while. Before the cold comes, I mean. I know how much you like it. I don’t mind staying,” she said as she sat back against the bench and pulled her legs tight to her chest trying to gather a little warmth.

  Grayson looked at her squeezing her legs. “Miranda, you’re freezing. I drag you out here every week. You don’t have to stay.” He went back to his notepad and continued sketching.

  The sun was ending its path across the sky and behind them a street lamp blinked to life. Miranda looked up at it. There on the bench where they first kissed, the street lamp used to signal that their time was up. They used to react like clockwork to the lamp without saying a word, take each other’s hand and walk back to the house. This time Grayson was telling her to head back without her. Was that the memory they were forgetting? Was their time up?

  Nodding her head, she slowly stood and tucked her cold hands in her coat pockets. “Yeah, I guess it is getting a little chilly. Anything you want for dinner?”

  “You don’t have to make anything. I might take a walk in a bit, so I’ll just stop down at the store and grab something. But thanks,” he said, finishing with a slight smile.

  She nodded again and was about to lean in to kiss him on the cheek, but her feet wouldn’t move her forward. Swaying for a bit, she stepped back, “OK. I’ll see you at home.”

  “OK,” he replied, and continued to sketch.

  Miranda walked away, crunching the leaves beneath her. He pulled his eyes away from the notebook and slowly turned to watch his wife make her way to the sidewalk. He knew that there should have been a feeling - of any kind - rekindled within him as he watched her walk alone under their street lamp, but there was nothing. She shouldn’t
be walking alone, he knew this, but why didn’t he get up? Why didn’t he follow?

  Within the maple, Beren huddled behind a branch, watching. Though his eyes weren’t filled with tears, there was anguish in them. Pain. Frustration. His emotions were too connected to understanding what was going on between Miranda and Grayson and, more importantly, why. It was six years since he had lost Elanor and it was six years since their wish was destroyed.

  Unable to watch, he leaned his wand against the bark of the tree. A Gate quickly flashed open. The cold wind was beginning to take over the park, and he couldn’t witness the slow expiration of his WishMaker’s true love.

  The flash of the Gate vanished as Beren stepped through, but Grayson looked up into the tree. Did he notice something? It was probably just a trick of the eyes. Diving back into his sketch, he continued without a second thought.

  18

  A Flash In The Dark

  Trudging through the thick valley grass and repositioning her well-packed bag over her shoulder, Shea made her way to the edge of the Paragonian forest. She saw Thane pacing underneath a withering old oak with roots that reached out a few twisted feet toward the brink of the valley. This side of the valley was in danger of vanishing all together. The borders used to span several miles to the north, but now only a mere quarter mile away, their bittersweet realm was disappearing. The ancient oak was simply waiting to fade away.

  Her nervous friend had not yet noticed her approach. “Friend?” Shea thought. “Why is he doing this? Is he really just following orders? He’s kind of funny when he gets nervous.” Shea quickly halted, took a deep breath and tried to regain her composure. “This is for real, Shea. Get yourself together,” she said out loud to herself as if a pep talk was needed to get her into the right frame of mind.

  Thane noticed Shea standing there and most likely that little bit where she was talking to herself. This prompted her to straighten her skirt, stand up straight and march toward him.

  “Great. So we’ll get you debriefed,” Thane started, but Shea had an agenda and she wasn’t going to let him run this show.

  “Let’s get a few things straight. Just because I’m letting you help, doesn’t mean I need it. Once we get to The Other Side, it’s up to you if you want to stick around. And if you say one thing about my wings, I’ll make your giant nose even more crooked than it already is. Got it?” she said in one quick breath.

  Touching his nose, “It’s crooked?”

  “Are you going to debrief me, or what?” Shea demanded, still in business mode.

  “If you’re gonna have an attitude, I’ll let you figure out how to cross over without me,” Thane was willing to banter, but he wasn’t willing to give up control just yet.

  Shea readjusted her pack again. “Fine. Sorry. Go ahead.”

  “Apology accepted. Barely. Now listen closely,” Thane looked at the parchment Avery gave to him. He already knew the rules by heart, but it helped to reference notes, if only to avoid a glare from Shea. “Keepers cannot allow Makers to see them, they cannot come in physical contact with Makers and do not, by any means, interact with or speak to any Makers.”

  “OK, I get it. Makers are off limits,” Shea returned, wanting him to go on.

  “A wish will always remain close to its Maker and once the wish is secure, immediately find a gate and return home,” Thane continued to read. “The wish is immediately brought to Exclamation Point for inspection then placed within the Nursery for monitoring.”

  “OK. What else?”

  “What else? Other than Lost Fairies and Erebus killing Keepers and eating wishes? That’s about it,” Thane said, and even though he was saying it sarcastically, he was serious.

  “I’m not worried about Lost Fairies.”

  “You should be,” warned Thane.

  Trying to ignore his comment, Shea looked up into the tree. It was massive, well over one hundred years old and dwarfed Thane and Shea as they stood among its gnarled roots. Another deep breath rolled out of Shea as she stared up into the leafless tree.

  “So, you’re sure about this?” asked Thane, giving her one last chance to bail.

  The red-haired fairy just smirked, raised her wand and fired a hot grappling spell up into the tree. Thane shook his head with a smirk of his own and launched himself after her.

  They both landed on a thick branch. Its bark had been gnawed and pecked by some kind of a hard-nosed bird, most likely a woodpecker. A hollowed out, empty nest rested at the crook of the branch and trunk. Casually sitting against it with his legs crossed, arms folded and eyes pleasantly shut, was the oldest fairy Shea had ever seen.

  For as long as the Keepers have been guarding wishes, GateKeepers have been guarding the Gates that connected Paragonia to The Other Side. Before Erebus reigned as WishingKing, every tree in Paragonia connected with another in The Makers’ world. Be it a fir, maple, oak, evergreen, palm, apple or cranberry, the Keepers were free to cross over through any tree they liked. Because of the sheer number of possible Gates, the rank of GateKeeper was basically like that of a parking meter maid. It was the simplest form of military rank among the Keepers, but as the years passed, more and more Gates were shut. By the time Erebus betrayed his Keepers and the True Love Wish was destroyed, less than one thousand Gates were still active. Considering the scope of The Other Side and the need of the WishMakers, the dwindling number of Gates made WishGathering that much more difficult.

  Most GateKeepers were forced to find other work and thus left the Keeper force altogether. A new force of GateKeepers was needed to guard the Gates due to the ever growing danger and threat that spread throughout The Other Side. They were shutting out the very world they depended on, but what choice did they have? Erebus was growing in power and if he was able to break back into Paragonia and cease the wishes that were awaiting fulfillment, it would be a very quick end to the Keepers and any chance of a WishMaker’s wish ever coming true. Their bigger worry was the power of Exclamation Point. It was the lifeblood of their realm and like any power it could be harnessed for all the wrong reasons.

  Winston was a grandfathered GateKeeper. His father and his father’s father before him were GateKeepers and at one time, Winston was the most skilled of them all. Beren kept him on more as a relic, but his Gate was never used. A GateKeepers’ true skill was in their ability to gather news and reports and Winston knew it all. That is, if he ever woke up.

  Thane and Shea stared at Winston as he slept. His beard covered him like a blanket; a ratted up old driver’s cap sat sideways over his left eye, and his chest rose and fell as soft as a breeze.

  “Winston, I presume?” Shea asked.

  “Winston’s the oldest GateKeeper in Paragonia. I used to come up here when I was little and he’d tell me stories of The Other Side. Now he just kinda sleeps all day.”

  “So…what do we do?” asked Shea, not understanding why Thane brought her to see the oldest of old GateKeepers.

  “We wait,” Thane said, as if Shea should have known this already.

  “Wait for what?”

  “Well, there’s a reason no one uses his gate anymore.”

  Winston let out a great, soggy, snorting snore like a buzz saw and very suddenly the side of the oak tree opened. A Gate quickly appeared and then just as quickly disappeared as Winston ended his fat snore.

  “See?” said Thane.

  “See what? The gate opened for a second.”

  “He has a tendency to snore the gate open. It doesn’t stay open for very long though, but every now and then…”

  “Are you serious? This is your plan? To wait for the old fairy to randomly open the gate?”

  Setting his hands at his waist, he replied, “With no help from you, I’m not a Keeper yet. Non-Keepers aren’t able to open gates. So what do you propose we do?”

  Shea’s annoyed sigh was almost as loud as Winston’s snore. The Gate opened and closed again with a flash.

  “If we treat it like a game, like a timing thing, we just migh
t be able to -,” Thane started, but Shea wasn’t in a waiting kind of mood.

  “This is ridiculous.” She ripped a dead leaf from a nearby branch and tip toed to the sleeping Winston.

  “Don’t wake him up! I’m already in deep enough helping you cross over. Last thing I need is a GateKeeper reporting back to headquarters.”

  “Just shush,” she whispered as she crept over and reached the tip of the leaf toward Winston’s nose. It was tricky aiming the pointed end of such a large leaf without simply mashing it against the sleeping fairy’s face, but she managed to tickle his nose.

  SNORE! Winston let out a long-winded, raspy, snot-filled snore. The Gate flashed open and Shea quickly dropped the leaf, grabbed Thane’s arm and pulled.

  “Go!” she yelled as they rushed toward the Gate.

  They met nothing but thick, brown bark and smacked their faces against the tree. Dazed, they stumbled back. Thane fell and sat, holding a bloody nose.

  “Ow.”

  Maybe the timing game wasn’t going to work after all.

  * * * *

  At the other end of the forest, Beren paced in front of his chosen members of The Hope. Among the dozen troops, Goren’s robes were pristine as he proudly awaited orders. Foster’s bright blue tunic matched the color of his intense, confident eyes. The setting sun streamed its light through a massive white birch tree. Shafts of the golden light cast long, skinny black shadows across the branches. It was a day Beren would rather forget, but he knew more were ahead of him that he feared would only be worse.

  The WishKeepers were standing at attention, each holding mini-WishRadar devices that tracked the Makers on The Other Side. The mobile radars blinked in unison as Beren stopped pacing and addressed his troops. Avery stood, arms crossed at her chest with her black, hooded cloak pulled over her head. Though her face was all but masked by the heavy hood, her thick, deep eyes were fixed on Beren. Her demeanor was one of nonchalant indifference, but her eyes studied her General as he paced.