by G. Bailey
“What happened to the two sisters after?” I ask. I’m pretty sure two powerful goddesses don’t just disappear.
“No one knows that, but we believe they must have died at some point,” he tells me before continuing. “Maybe they decided to give the creatures they created some peace. The originals had children, some received powers and others did not. The ones who did not also had children, and some of their children received powers. This went on for many years, with original generations being lost in the fight against the dark ones who kept breeding as well,” my dad says, and my mum gives me a sad look as a shiver travels across my skin.
“Dark ones are still alive?” I quietly ask.
“Yes. We never told you any dark fairy tales growing up, but surely you must know some from school or movies,” my mum suggests gently, and I nod, thinking of any fairy tales I can and somewhat trying to push them from my mind.
“Which one of you are descendants? I’m assuming you, mum, if grandmother knows about all this,” I say.
“Both our families are descendants, darling. My mother has powers, and her mother before, but not me,” mum tells me, and I pick up the slight sadness in her tone and the way dad wraps an arm around her shoulders.
“You think I have your family powers?” I ask in a whisper, and mum goes to answer when dad pats her leg and leans forward on his seat, stopping her from whatever she was going to say.
“What did the book say to you?” my dad asks me, and I think back to the creepy words the book said. I don’t remember it all, it was all too much at the time, and I have a feeling I might regret that at some point.
“Something about sleep, and two hundred years, and a curse,” I say, and my dad grins. “I don’t really know what else. It was said too quickly.”
“That’s my family then,” he says, and mum nods with her own smile as she looks between us, but her eyes seem somewhat worried.
“There hasn’t been a descendant with powers in two hundred years in my family line,” dad says, and he looks so proud that I almost smile at him. There is no worry in my dad’s eyes.
“What are the family powers? What am I a descendant of?” I ask, almost not wanting to hear the answer.
“Your last name answers that, hunny,” mum says, and one of the reasons I have my nickname is my last name translates into sleep. And I like to sleep a lot.
“Well, the family name and descendant name is Dormiens, but you might be more familiar with the fairy tale called Sleeping Beauty. We should have guessed with how many times you’ve been put into detention for falling asleep in class at school,” dad laughs, and he has a point. It may have happened once or fifty times, but who’s counting?
“You’re saying I’m Sleeping Beauty’s descendant?” I ask, thinking of the fairy tale. A beautiful girl sleeps for hundreds of years after pricking her thumb on a wheel, and then a prince kisses her awake. I always thought Sleeping Beauty should have punched the random stranger who snuck into her room and kissed her when she was sleeping. Though not a lot of people thought that when we watched it in school. Wasn’t Sleeping Beauty blonde as well? I lift a strand of my dark hair, twirling it around my finger. I’m sure there was a dragon or evil witch or something in the movie…I hope that was just the movie. I don’t think I’ve ever read or googled the original Sleeping Beauty fairy tale before. I clearly need to get my fairy tale books out or watch some Disney films.
“Yes. I’m not sure exactly what your gifts are, as the last family member who had your gifts died in an accident a day after she got them. There isn’t any record of our family powers, but we know it has a lot to do with sleep,” dad states, shrugging his shoulders like that isn’t a big deal. What the hell could I do? Put myself to sleep whenever I want? I’ve had that “power” for years.
“This explains why she never gets up in the morning,” mum says with a grin, and I just look at her. Seriously, mum?
“What?” she replies, rolling her eyes. “When you were a baby, you slept nearly all the time. I used to get so worried!”
“Why didn’t you tell me about all of this? Prepare me for this world you’ve just thrown me into blind? Why tell me right now?” I ask in annoyance. This isn’t something you hide for no reason.
“We are bound by our laws not to tell you until you turn seventeen and touch the book. It’s the way of the descendants, our people. Your people. One day when you marry, you will make the same vow to never tell your own child,” Dad tells me firmly, not one ounce of apology on his face. “Besides, you got to live a human life…a normal one with friends and routine. I would never have told you anything until this moment because I would have always wanted a normal upbringing for you.”
“I suppose it’s hard to be mad at you when you put it like that,” I mumble, and dad laughs.
“I’d hold off on stating you’re not mad. You have to leave here tonight,” dad tells me, not giving me any time to process any of this before dropping another bomb on me.
“Leave to go where?” I ask hesitantly. I have a feeling he means leaving home.
“Lost Time Academy,” he says with a big smile.
“What the hell is that?” I ask and then pretty much answer my own question when they don’t say a word. “Are you seriously sending me to a boarding school? You want me to leave home now?”
“It’s a school for the descendants to safely learn their gifts. Everyone from the ages of seventeen to twenty-one goes if they receive powers, and there isn’t a choice here, Madilynn,” mum tells me, using her strict tone that anyone who knows her doesn’t want to hear. Usually I would be scared and agree with her, but not at the moment.
“I’m not going,” I say, crossing my arms and raising an eyebrow at her angry expression. Dad takes mum’s hand into hers, whispering something under his breath that I can’t hear, and my mum just calms down nearly instantly.
“You have to go, Madi. We don’t want our only child to go away, but we wouldn’t send you unless we had no choice,” dad tells me.
“I have a life here, a boyfriend I can’t just disappear on,” I tell him, thinking of Quinton.
“He is human, and the council of descendants will never let you stay friends with or marry a human. Our marriages are planned and told to us not long after we open the book. Whoever is chosen for you won’t let you have a human friend who you used to date. I’m sorry, Madi,” he says, and I just glare at him. This just keeps getting better and better. First off, I’m not exactly just human. Then boarding school. Now arranged marriage, and I have to break up with Quin…this birthday sucks.
“You knew I would never be able to be with Quin, yet you let me date him?” I ask, not believing my parents would let me get hurt like this. I literally feel sick at the idea of leaving Quin. We’ve already lost four of my childhood friends, and Quin would never get over me walking away from him.
“We didn’t let you; if I remember right, I walked in to get you for breakfast one morning and found you kissing the boy,” my dad says. “We couldn’t give you a reason not to date him back then, and we assumed it wouldn’t last long.”
“It’s better to end the relationship now, darling. Your new life has no place for a human. You will hurt him far more in the long run if you drag the relationship out. You will be happy with whoever the council decides you should marry,” mum says, her gaze is nothing but sorry, but pain shoots through my heart at the thought of dumping Quinton. Of not being with him.
“A planned marriage? Are you kidding me?” I spit out, because I can’t deal with how my mum could be right. There is no way in hell that is happening.
“Not at all. Even those of us with no powers have our marriages chosen. That’s how I met your mother,” he tells me, and she smiles lovingly at him. “The council always picks successful marriages. The man that chooses is a descendant of Cupid, and he is never wrong. Unless the Master’s intervene and choose.” I almost go to question mum about how Cupid is a Greek god and not necessarily a fairy tale, but the pan
ic about leaving Quinton overrides anything else.
“It won’t be that bad, and Quinton will understand,” dad says, like Quin’s and my relationship is nothing. I’ve known Quin my entire life, and even before we dated, I couldn’t imagine my life without my best friend in it. I give my dad a nasty look. He never liked Quinton, and I guess I now know why.
“No, he won’t.” I say, knowing he is going to worry when I don’t turn up for school. “I’m going to be late for school, I should—”
“No, Madilynn. You have powers now, powers that could hurt humans, and you have to pack for Lost Time Academy,” Dad interrupts me as I stand up, and I pause, realising that I can’t ignore this as much as I want to. This isn’t going to go away, and I can’t run from this. I can’t run to Quin like I always have when something is wrong.
“I can’t just disappear on him! I need to explain this to Quinton in person. Just let me go and—” I plead with them, wiping away the stray tears that fall down my cheeks, and my mum gives me a small shake of her head, looking just as upset. She practically brought Quinton up with me. Quinton’s mum never fed him, so at least three times a week, Quinton would be at ours for a meal. My mum even packs me two school lunches every day because she knows Quinton would share mine otherwise. Or I would give my lunch to Quin and be starving when I got home.
“You can’t tell humans about us, your powers, or anything, Madilynn. That is a death sentence for you—and him. The world you have just joined is very strict about humans and wouldn’t think twice about killing him, his whole family and anyone he could have told,” Dad says, and I hold my hand over my mouth. I couldn’t even think about losing Quinton, and even if we ran away, Quinton has family he cares for too much. Quinton has a younger sister who is only twelve. Even if she lives with her own dad, they would kill her for knowing him, if my dad is right. Loving Quinton would get us all killed.
“No,” I whisper, my whole body shaking as my mum swiftly gets up off the sofa and comes to me. I don’t move, letting my mum pull me tightly into her arms as she tries to comfort me.
“You can stay his friend, in time. Only you will just tell him we got you into an exclusive boarding school that means you can’t contact him for now,” Dad suggests once mum lets me go and I have calmed down enough to even talk.
“Where is Lost Time Academy?” I ask quietly after a long pause between us all, where my heart feels like it’s breaking into pieces, and yet, I know this is the right thing to do.
“In Ireland, and we will take a portal there tonight,” dad simply replies.
“Portal?” I curiously ask.
“Every descendant family gets a key,” he says, pulling out the small key on his necklace that he always wears. I remember asking him about it as a child, and he always said that it was a family thing and never said anymore.
“I have one too,” mum says, showing me the bracelet with a small key hanging off it. Mum always wore the bracelet, and I never thought to ask about it as it looks fashionable and, well, normal.
“The key is a connection to the island where Lost Time Academy sits and many other buildings for our kind. It is the safest place, and every descendant knows to go there if anything goes wrong. You can take mine, and your mum can go with you. She can’t enter the school, only descendants with powers can, but she can walk you to the door,” my dad says, pulling off the necklace and handing it to me.
“You can’t come too?” I lightly ask.
“No. Only one can travel with a key,” he tells me gently, and I look down at the small gold key, the little “L” and “T” that are engraved on the side. I never noticed that before.
“Time makes all tales come true,” my dad whispers, watching me run a finger over the key.
“What does that mean?” I ask him, looking up to meet my dad’s eyes.
“The words engraved in the school symbol, but they are in Latin,” he explains to me.
“Latin?” I ask.
“Oh yes. Everyone has to learn Latin at Lost Time Academy. It’s not that bad once you get used to it,” he adds when he sees my face of disgust. Yes, it is that bad, but I’m not thinking of Latin, I’m thinking of leaving everything behind, including Quinton.
Chapter 3
“It’s time to leave,” my mum says as I stare down at the text I’m about to send to Quinton, explaining everything, and every damn word of it is a lie. Every word I’ve written and rewritten a thousand times, and I haven’t even got the strength to read the several messages he has sent me. Dad said I can’t call him, that Quinton would be able to tell I’m lying over the phone as he knows me too well. Dad is right. Quinton knows me better than anyone. It doesn’t stop me from wanting to press that call button though and hovering my finger over the silly contact picture I have of him. I press send on the text before I can think about him anymore, and a sharp pain feels like it rips through my chest when I imagine him opening it. I’m a coward; I should have called him. Then again, I can’t ever risk his life, and my dad said I would be doing just that. I don’t have a choice anymore when it comes to Quinton. I stand up, picking up my rucksack full of my clothes and things I need before walking to my mum where she is stood at the door. She smiles at me, and I look over at my dad, who comes over and hugs me tightly.
“Good luck, and I want a phone call every week if they allow it, or a letter perhaps. It has been a long time since I went to school, and we didn’t have phones back then,” he tells me, and I nod against his chest.
“If Quinton comes here, I don’t know, just be nice to him, please,” I whisper, and dad grumbles.
“I will do, but I doubt the boy is going to be happy with us for sending you away,” dad replies as he lets me go and steps back.
“I know,” I say, feeling my phone vibrate in my hand. I turn it off before looking who it was. I don’t know who I’m kidding as I know it’s Quinton. I just broke up with him over text, of course he’s going to try and call me. I swallow every part of me that wants to run out the door and find Quinton as I look at my parents’ worried faces. After pushing my phone into my bag, I force a smile on my face as I wait for my mum to say something.
“Okay, take out your key and hold it in the air like this,” she says and holds out the key like she is unlocking an imaginary door. I do the same and feel stupid as nothing happens, and I raise an eyebrow at her.
“Lost Time Island welcomes its blood,” she whispers, her words sending shivers through me, and mum smiles at me. A gold light appears from her key and surrounds her whole body until she has disappeared completely. I’m sure I stand with my mouth hanging open for far too long before I snap it shut and look over at dad. He is trying not to laugh, and I just glare at him as he chuckles under his breath.
“Repeat her words and have fun at your new school. We will speak soon,” my dad suggests after he stops laughing and acquires a more serious expression as he seems to realise I have to go now.
“Lost Time Island welcomes its blood,” I repeat my mother’s words, and all I can see is the gold light as it shines out the key that gets warmer in my hand until it feels like it is almost burning. I eventually have to close my eyes, blocking the light. After what feels like a few seconds, I feel a hand on my shoulder, and the light is suddenly gone. I open my eyes to see my mum right in front of me, and I lower my hand with the key. When I look past her and to the woods we are now stood in the middle of, it’s almost unbelievable that we moved anywhere, but this makes it seem so real. I can smell the pine, feel the cold wind brushing my hair around, and hear the snapped branches under my feet as I shift. I pull my leather jacket closer around me; the leggings and top I’m wearing underneath are no good against the cold out here.
“You did well for your first time using the key. Don’t repeat this, but your dad passed out,” mum says with a wink as she squeezes my shoulder, making me chuckle. She nods her head in the direction behind her and turns before she starts walking off down a purple stone path through the woods. I catch up
and follow her, putting my key, still on the chain, around my neck. The path is lit up by stones that lightly glow, they are cool and pretty to look at, but I’m sure I saw similar solar lights on sale at my local shop. I doubt the stones are real. Or maybe I am still trying to pretend everything is normal.
“I was thinking. What’s your family descended from?” I ask my mum after we have walked in silence for a while.
“Oh, it’s not a well-known one, but Crows. Have you heard of the rhyme about crows?” she asks, referring to the nursery rhyme. I nod. “Well, that’s the closest humans got to our descendants’ story. We have wings if we get that power, and it’s meant to be unlucky. But your grandmother wins every week at bingo, so maybe that isn’t so true,” mum laughs, and I do as well. Grandma is super proud of her unbeatable score at bingo.
“But grandma doesn’t have wings. I’m sure I would have noticed that,” I comment, thinking of my slightly insane grandmother who I love to pieces. I usually stay at her house throughout the holidays as does Quinton because grandma loves him. I don’t say “insane” lightly; she has done a lot of things over the years that people would consider completely crazy. But she is the kind of crazy that walks into a stranger’s house, makes a cup of tea, and then cleans the house before she leaves. The nice kind of crazy you don’t mind so much.
“She does have wings, but she clearly hides them from you,” mum says with a shrug like it’s nothing. Grandma has wings. Next, she is going to tell me she has big teeth to eat me with.
