by Natalie Erin
“They’re other worlds,” Midnightstar said. “There are other places than here, Adelaide.”
“I’ve never known another world, Mids,” Adelaide said. “All I’ve ever known are the plains and the Verinian. This is all so new to me.”
Midnightstar drew closer. Poor Adelaide hadn’t been born in the plains, but she had been raised there, and that was all she could ever remember. The only thing she had ever known was having food in her belly, playing with the other wolves, and visits from fairies and friends. Everything had been perfect in her realm except for one thing, the unicorn war, but the worst part of it that had ever hit Adelaide was when another member of the pack got killed because of it. Even then, there was no one who had been murdered by the unicorns Adelaide had been really close to. While Midnightstar…her life had been blighted by traitors and tragedy.
“I’m gonna go get something to eat and save some for the boys, before Rabika takes it all,” Adelaide said, getting up from her spot and hopping over to the prey.
Midnightstar smiled. Adelaide had lumped both Xiuh and Tatl together, as if there was no difference between them. That was the nice thing about her...every creature was the same, and nobody was any different than anyone else. You could slap a furry coat on a unicorn and call it a wolf, and Adelaide would welcome it into the pack without a second thought.
Once again, Midnightstar turned her head to the skies. She liked astrology, though her faith in it as a science was little. Why creatures would turn to the stars for help was unknown to her. The stories about them were wonderful, but basing your life on constellations seemed foolish. Everyone thought Midnightstar was big on things like destiny and fate, but that wasn’t really true. Her knowledge of the stars was only so immense because she had studied them for so long under Vixen. She had learned the stars to try and comprehend who she really was, what her part was in all of this. She was struggling to find purpose, a meaning in this life. Her quest to find it in the stars was as empty as space itself. There was nothing there but stories there for her.
Her siblings never had trouble with their identities. Jade was a healer, while Shadowin was a brave hunter, an alpha in every sense of the word. Snapfang was intelligent, while Caini found her meaning in caring deeply for others.
Midnightstar didn’t like to hunt. She wasn’t very brave, very smart or very skilled. She cared deeply for those she loved, but she didn’t really know how to show it. Her only gift, she found, was her intensity for learning things quickly. But what good did that do, having knowledge of things that nobody cared about, knowledge that wasn’t very useful in the first place? She always had to struggle to find her place in the world. It hurt, being a wolf and not knowing who you were.
Midnightstar sighed. Perhaps Rabika was right. Maybe she had gone on this mission because she wanted to prove to herself that she wasn’t just a blank space in a world of color.
“Mids,” Adelaide asked, her mouth full, “You coming to get any?”
“Right away,” Midnightstar responded, and she had to smile. Whatever the case, she was important to Adelaide, and that was good enough.
They set out late the next morning. Around noon, they reached a small mountain range. Since they’d passed the Blue Sky Peaks around a week ago, this could only mean the start of the Ice Borns.
The weather was better than expected for early spring. The sun was out, and there wasn’t much snow, even in the mountains, but Midnightstar knew this wouldn’t last long. The group needed to find the Assembly and get in and out of the mountains, quickly. The Ice Borns were deadly, and if they lingered, chances were high that one or more of them would perish within them. Within the Ice Borns, there was nothing but rock, mangled old bushes and slush…nothing for any prey to eat, which meant it would be even harder than usual to hunt.
“I think we need to stay down at the base of the Ice Borns until we find someone who may be able to help us out,” Tatl said. “A native of sorts.”
“Just what I was going to say,” Rabika offered.
“I agree,” Adelaide peeped. “We should run into somebody soon. But first, let’s find somewhere to make camp.”
As they walked, Midnightstar slipped accidentally into Xiuh’s eyesight, but managed to keep the feeling of her own body. With tremendous effort, she wrenched herself away from his mind and forced herself to keep her eyes where they belonged.
“What’s wrong?” Xiuh instantly asked, looking at her in confusion.
“I’m not feeling well,” she admitted to him in a low undertone, knowing he’d get what she meant.
“I’ll walk next to you,” Xiuh said, drawing closer.
Midnightstar held her breath, then simply gave up and let herself fall into Xiuh’s head, watching the world through his eyes as they traveled through the base of the mountain ranges. It was a lot easier giving in rather than trying to fight it, but she still hated it. Though...she did have to admit...seeing things through Xiuh’s eyes was a lot better than having visions. At least she knew where she...well, they...were walking, at least.
Days passed. Food became scarcer than before. Midnightstar herself secretly gave Adelaide her portion when nobody was looking. Her hunger only made her visions worse. When the rest of them found out Midnightstar was giving her food away, they were furious.
“Why would you do something like that?” Xiuh pressed her, infuriated.
Her head had been swimming at the time, making her answer muddled and faint. “Adelaide’s weaker than I am. She needs it more.”
“I’m going to fetch you something and make sure you eat it all,” Xiuh growled, heading for a wooded part of the mountain. “Don’t let her leave, Tatl!”
“Will do,” he said lowly, glaring at his friend.
It was obvious the Ortusans had lost their trail when they’d picked up the pace. There was no sign of them anywhere. When they had spanned the Ice Borns a full week with no sign of the Assembly, the group had a meeting.
“This is getting us nowhere,” Rabika argued, battering her tail against the ground. “We’ll be here forever unless we find a guide, and there are obviously none here. We might find someone on the other side of the mountain range.”
“Yes, but how do we get there?” Adelaide asked.
“It’s simple, isn’t it? The only way to get there is to pass through the forest of the Specters,” Tatl said.
The entire troop turned to gaze at the black, hazy woods that were only a couple hundred yards away. An eerie gloom emitted from it, and Midnightstar gave a shiver. If they went inside, there was no guarantee of any of them coming out.
“What’s a Specter?” Adelaide asked, always oblivious.
“A Specter is a spirit-monster,” Tatl explained. “They transform into people you know, so they can lure you into traps.”
“I think Uncle Lilja and Mom went past them on the journey to save the Verinian long ago,” Rabika added. “Fortunately for them, they didn’t run into any.”
“What happens if you listen to the Specters?” Adelaide asked, poking her head forward.
“They eat you,” Xiuh said simply.
Adelaide let out a squeak. Midnightstar shook her head and said, “No, it’s too risky, we...”
“We’ve already wasted a week, and we have to get through these mountains. Unless you’d rather hike around and around these peaks and have us all freeze to death, we have no other option,” Tatl put bluntly.
Midnightstar let her head fall. It was no use.
Xiuh shook his mane. “It’s decided then. We’ll go into the woods in the morning. Everybody watch themselves. No telling what could happen in there.”
Later that night, Midnightstar went for a walk on her own. Dangerous, she knew, but she needed time to think, to try to sort out her thoughts, and her guilt.
It was a terrible idea to go into the Specter forest, she knew that much. But what else could she do? She was outvoted, and there was nothing she could do or say to change that. There was no hope of getting any
sleep tonight. She would only lie awake, wondering who would be next to die.
She found solace in a round spot near an outcropping of rock. The stones were scattered all around her in a semi-circle. Her injured paw, which still didn’t hurt, tingled at the sight.
“Why do they all stay with me? They should’ve abandoned me by now,” she groaned.
No response from any of the stones. “It’s just another war,” Midnightstar said, and she kicked a rock. “Just another famine, another plague or disease. It goes on and on and on and never ends, and why would the Creator bother to care? It just happens, over and over and over again. Even I’d lose interest in all this chaos eventually. If this war ends, another one ten or fifty or a hundred years from now will start again. A sickness will be cured, only to be replaced by something even worse. Making it better means nothing. Just like I mean nothing.”
Midnightstar looked at the stones. “All of my effort and hard work, all my sacrifice, will eventually be forgotten. To my descendants, I won’t have even existed, give or take a century. I might as well be this rock.”
She has the answers for you, Midnightstar, the voices whispered in her ear. If you find her, she can tell you what all of this is worth.
Midnightstar shut the voices out. As she did so, her mind caved, and the rocky mountains around her were spirited away as she zoomed into the stars.
Midnightstar soared with outstretched paws towards the moon, landing on it firmly and sinking the white orb down with her weight. It was no bigger than she was. She hopped up and down on it like a ball, and it bounced through space, all around the world in a large circle.
“How unimpressive,” she said. “The moon is a lie, too.”
She jumped off the moon and it spun behind her as she floated through space, orbiting faster and faster until it turned inward on itself and exploded.
“Ridiculous moon,” Midnightstar said. “That’s what you get for lying to us.”
Midnightstar flew past a red planet, which fired bolts of liquid sand at her as she did so. She spun on the rings of another planet, becoming dizzy as they twirled her round and round.
“Everything in the universe just goes in circles. Meaningless,” Midnightstar said. She watched the earth whizz by as she let the rings carry her around once…twice…three times…
“I could swear Vixen told me these rings were made out of rocks,” she said, looking down at them. “Now I know. All it ever was, and all it ever will be, is an illusion.”
Midnightstar fell into space, putting her ears back as she zoomed forward, flying to the farthest planet she could find.
She sat on the tiny planet, disappointed. She looked at the mountains upon the planet that were cold and frozen, blue and lifeless. “What a pity. All these are, and all these ever will be, are the Ice Borns.”
The entire universe was a lie. Everything she knew had to be wrong. She sat, sweeping her tail, until the entire galaxy began to clump together in a large blob, and all the planets disappeared. The mass of planets began to whirl faster and faster and faster...
“No more!” Midnightstar yelled, and the galaxy vanished. Midnightstar was standing on a block of ice and snow…yet all around her, the summer sun shone brightly. On the wind was the fresh new smell of spring, but on the trees in the distance, the leaves were beginning to change color. She was in a forest of multiple seasons.
She put her paws over her face, shutting out the world, wanting to make all of the scary dreams and thoughts and voices go away and never return.
“What’s happening to me?” Midnightstar whimpered, falling apart.
“You’re slipping through the ether of time.”
Midnightstar spun on the spot. A creature stood before her, one with owl ears and a speckled face. It was a female griffin, what Midnightstar couldn’t decide was whether the creature was intensely beautiful…or hideously terrifying.
“The ether of time?” Midnightstar asked, coming closer. “What does that mean?”
The griffin bowed her head slightly, saying, “This won’t make much sense to you. But listen to what I have to say.”
“What is it? Please, speak up,” she begged.
“Patience is a great virtue,” the griffin said. “The Creator is doing an excellent job teaching it to you all.”
“All you voices ever do is tell me confusing things,” Midnightstar said angrily, turning away.
“You think I am part of those wicked spirits?” the griffin asked softly. “You are very mistaken.”
Midnightstar paused. “So you’re not part of them…but you know them?”
“Know them? They were my most horrid enemies when I was on this earth, and are yours, and are everybody’s whose spirit still hasn’t crossed over to eternity.”
“But then…that must mean you’re…”
“You are more dead than I am,” the griffin said.
“What does that mean?” Midnightstar asked, frustrated.
“This world is nothing more than a shadowy mist, one that is slowly fading away,” the griffin spoke. “All the mortals who live here are under a shimmering illusion.”
“Are you saying that none of this is real?” Midnightstar pressed.
Without warning, the sound of a bee’s hive filled her head. Midnightstar cried out, howling in anguish at the irritating, loud noise that was hitting the walls of her skull.
She knew what those had to be…no other creature’s voice vibrated and hummed like that. The voices of thousands upon thousands of Changers, the thoughts of Changers, the dreams of Changers, were all swirling and burning in her head, demanding to be heard.
“Make it stop!” Midnightstar screamed in agony. All the chattering came to a sudden halt.
“You have the power to make this stop,” the griffin said.
“What was that?” Midnightstar asked. The griffin didn’t answer.
Midnightstar looked at the stone she had been throwing around earlier. “Do you mean to say…that I can hear the thoughts of all Changers?”
The griffin stared.
Midnightstar gulped. “But how? Why?”
“You are the last.”
“That’s helpful,” Midnightstar grumped. “Are you sure you’re not the one in my head?”
The griffin stomped her front foot, giving Midnightstar an irritated look.
“So the voices that talk to me, that say all those terrible things, those are Changers?”
“No. The voices that speak directly to you are the dark ones, Midnightstar,” she said. “In the universe, there is a balance of good and evil. These dark voices help to cause all the pain and destruction on the earth. They are the ones who want to wreak havoc on the Creator’s world, who are helping Wyntier to win. Whatever you do, you mustn’t ever listen to them.”
Midnightstar shook. “Is it only me who can hear them, then?”
“Everybody can hear them, and see the evil ideas that they plant in one’s head, but only a skilled few can recognize them for what they are. Most mistake them for their own inner voice.”
“But why?”
“They’re probably trying to convince you that you’re crazy,” she suggested.
Midnightstar gaped in surprise. She had been listening to the voices. But then, reason took to her. Dark voices, telling her to do evil? Impossible. “I am crazy. This must be all a vision, or a dream. I must wake up!” she insisted.
“MIDNIGHTSTAR!” the griffin boomed. She swept up her wings and Midnightstar was buffeted back by the wind. Within her mind, she saw a large doe wandering about aimlessly in the rain, calling for an answer as she walked over a bridge and to a small gathering of fellow deer…
“Allie?” Midnightstar whispered. “Allie, is that you?”
“She can’t hear you. You’re only in her head.”
“But why is she there? Why isn’t she with Kennu in the Verinian, where she’s supposed to be?” Midnightstar clambered to her feet, nearly tottering over as she did so.
“Wyntier
and a pair of Ortusans lured her into a trap. Her friends think she’s dead. She doesn’t remember anything, because of the attack,” the griffin said.
“Then we have to go back!” Midnightstar said, raising her tail. “We have to tell the others she’s out there, we...”
“No, Midnightstar,” the griffin protested. “You have to continue your mission.”
“My friend is alone! She doesn’t know what’s going on!” Midnightstar yelled.
“You need to trust in the Creator’s plan, Midnightstar! You can’t see the purpose of all of this,” the griffin protested.
“What plan could be so great where people are killing each other and starving to death?” Midnightstar said bitterly.
The griffin didn’t answer.
Midnightstar began pacing. “Tell you what. I’ll go to the Assembly if you answer a couple questions I have.”
“I don’t make bargains.”
“All I ask for is a few answers. Could you give me that?”
“It would depend on what you ask.”
Midnightstar simmered. “Where am I?”
The griffin spread her wing wide. “You are in the Inbetween, a place of time and no-time.”
“What does that even mean?”
“Listen closely. There is no such thing as time, Midnightstar. It’s just a concept,” the griffin began. “If you truly think about it, nothing changes. All the seasons and the years cycle, one by one, and become themselves again in due time. Things don’t change, Midnightstar. Only we do.”
“Right,” she replied, brain buzzing. “And all those Changers I just heard in here, what does that mean?”
“A Changer’s thought is connected to the Inbetween. Since you can go here, you can hear all they speak and see all they think, and therefore, enter into their minds.” The griffin paused. “I ask you to not pry for anything else.”
“One more, please. Why can I do all this stuff…and others can’t? I’ve never heard of anybody in my life who…who could see visions, and hear the thoughts of Changers and…slip into a dragon’s eyes,” Midnightstar babbled.
