by D. Fischer
Throwing my glass back, I gulp the entire contents in a matter of seconds. I grimace as I wipe my wet hand across my mouth and feel beads of water dribbling down my wrist. The water here tastes like chemicals compared to the Guardian Realm’s. It has a tang of bleach and a hint of iron. I voice it aloud, holding my empty glass up to the lights when they don’t respond to peer through it for a simple distraction. The details of the glass cast hues across my shirt, across the walls and cabinets: bright lights of reflection from something so ordinary.
“We’ll never belong,” I tell them and then lower the glass, clutching it to my middle. My declaration grabs their attention, and they look at me with blank expressions. “No matter which realm we go to, no matter who follows us or who we save, there will never be a place we truly belong as normal people.”
Aiden clears his throat. “We aren’t normal people, dragon.”
Placing the glass in the sink behind me, I square my shoulders. “No, we are not. I’m practically your sister - Myla was your sister. And you,” I point at Eliza, “you are basically Myla’s mother by marital law, which makes both of you my relatives.”
Oh, what a tangled web already weaved. What does that make Eliza and Aiden then? The throb answers in turn, forcing me to abandon my thoughts. The constant intertwining of our lives, our fates . . . the madness will never end. There’s no point in trying to decipher it. What would it help anyway? The revelation gives me pause, though. Could I ever see these two as family?
“We can’t be what you want us to be,” Aiden begins, a look of sympathy on his face which sparkles just as the glass did moments before. His skin is beautiful, but I doubt he sees the beauty in it. “We can only be what we are. Nothing more. We cannot replace the family who left you.”
The way he speaks tells me he’s aware of my inner turmoil, of my yearning to have a family to call my own. But he’s also right. They can’t replace my mother, nor my coven, and I shouldn’t try. It’s not fair to them, to any of them. My heart sinks nonetheless.
“But we can be friends,” I admit with a shrug, oddly desperate to cling to someone who is more like me. “If nothing else.”
Eliza smiles warmly. “We already are, Katriane.” Her grin falls. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“You seem,” Aiden begins, tilting his head and looking at me from the corner of his eyes, lava threatening to spill over the edges. “Out of sorts.”
Scrubbing my hands over my face, I answer as honestly as I can. “I’m just tired.” Seeing my mother soon has all sorts of emotions I’ve buried coming to the surface, and sleep, a decent meal, and a hot shower have been hard to come by of late.
“Ah.” Aiden sighs. “I can relate. But now is not the time to be wary. You need sleep, dragon.”
“Kat,” I correct, but he only blinks at me.
With a deep sigh, I change the subject and glance around. “We should find a place to sleep. We have a lot to complete in the coming days, and we don’t know when they’ll strike, or where. When do you leave?”
“My task won’t take long. I can go when the time is right,” Aiden answers simply.
I make my way to leave the kitchen and find the alpha pair to inquire about sleeping arrangements. Tapping my hand on the edge of the island, I pause as Eliza calls my name. Her voice is soft, agonized almost. Whatever she’s going to say, she isn’t sure she wants my response to it.
Cocking an ear in her direction, I watch her hesitate before saying, “Did you know my mother well.”
I swallow. “No. I had just met her before . . .” I trail off.
Eliza clears her throat. “Did she . . . Did she say anything before she died?”
My shoulders stiffen, and my feet seem glued to the floor. I can’t turn. My knees won’t let me; my heart won’t let me. Not if it means shattering at the sight of her sweet face, at the innocence I’ll find there. “She said. . .” I lick my bottom lip. “She said to tell you to be strong, and that she loves you. She said she chose her fate because a realm without you in it is too dim for even the darkest of souls.”
And as her sob overpowers the quiet hum of the kitchen electronics, I leave, my heart breaking with hers.
CHAPTER NINE
TEMBER
GUARDIAN REALM
The Igna Tribe has been hospitable throughout the entire stay so far, but even I can feel it waning. On some level, they blame the strangers for what has happened here, and it was a wise move sending those involved back to the Earth Realm before their emotions could escalate into full-blown fault. Except for Katriane. They adore her. Worship her, almost. It still baffles me. Not long ago, huddled in the teepee with the tribe leaders, I remember them wanting to kill her, to be rid of the biggest threat they had thought existed. And now . . . I was told they bowed to her before she soared into the sky to save what was surely a losing battle at the Angel’s Ground.
We didn’t linger long in the village after they left. We had cleaned up, packed dry meat in an animal-skin bag fashioned by the dwarves, and then set about our mission, which the dwarves believed to be an adventure. An adventure. I still chuff over it. They have no idea what we are about to walk into. I suppose I don’t either.
The Sandman, dwarves, Jaemes, and I are situated outside of the resting Angel’s Ground. On the way here, I learned that, aside from Nally, the other two are called Cod and Blu. Their personalities match as if they were cut from the same cloth, and they stare at the structure like it’s the temple of gods they were born to serve.
The Grounds are exactly as we left them, crookedly placed with chunks of dirt surrounding the base. Though void of the dead bodies, the clearing feels like a graveyard – eerie in atmosphere and too quiet for comfort. The dwarves fidget beside me, restless as I watch on and soaking in the extent of my responsibilities. My hair floats in the cold breeze of the wintry forest behind me, occupying the memories standing still in my mind. This was the home of the woman I loved, the woman who’s gone forever. She is the fee I’m unworthy of replacing.
We cannot fix what causes us grief, I had said to Erma once, but this brings me no comfort. It was, and is, a foolish piece of advice. And though we couldn’t fully love each other in life, I will fully love her in death. I will honor her. I will bring her justice.
“Are we going to stand and stare all day?” Jaemes asks as his Matua stomps, accenting his words. Quickly bored of the short hike to the Grounds, he had conjured up the creature midway under the canopy of barren trees, leaving the rest of us to walk. I could have easily flown, but it’s now my job to protect those in my care, not leave them behind. Jaemes has no such restraints.
I smack my lips, his question like a sour taste coating my tongue.
“I can’t simply put it back where it belongs,” I say, flinging a hand to the castle.
He chuckles. “I’ve said that once or twice myself.”
With a slow turn, I pin a glare at the creature. Now is not the time for sexual jokes, but the next words pop out of my mouth despite the seriousness. “Been denied a bed one too many times? That’s a shame.”
He grins wider and pokes my shoulder with the pointed tip of his bow.
I return the grin, and the stretch of skin feels odd on my face. Somehow, Jaemes is managing to tease and comfort me at the same time. I don’t know how he’s faring better than me. After all, he lost a father and a creator in one day, not to mention many of his people. And yet, I continue to underestimate him.
“Don’t erect it then,” Nally answers, shrugging his boulder shoulders.
Jaemes smirks. “Now there’s something that’s never been asked of me.” I fling out a wing and smack his leg. One of the heads on the matua nips at my feathers, but I pull them back before it has a chance to chomp its teeth.
The three dwarves have been helpful so far and have already devised plans and ideas for machinery. They’re determined to aid us in winning a war in which we’re outnumbered if Aiden’s word is the truth.
I frown to the
dwarf. “You mean-”
“Yes,” he says, cutting me off.
I study the Grounds with a tilt of my head. “The Angel’s shouldn’t be separate from the rest of the guardians.”
Adjusting his quiver, Jaemes mumbles, “Embedding it in the soil would send a clear message.”
“Exactly.”
“As one,” the sandman echoes in understanding.
“As one,” I repeat quietly, steeling myself for what I’m about to do. “The people of the guardian realm shouldn’t be separated by sky.”
Lifting both hands out in front of me, I summon the power that often lays dormant inside me. It takes mere seconds to call on my newly gifted magic. It resembles Erma’s, a soft glow of light that pulses with all the goodness in the realms. My hands glow while my chest hums with warmth, and by putting a little determination behind the effort, I force the rocks and chunks of dirt below the castle to dig into the soft soil. The ground moans under the pressure of added weight and the castle shakes while settling at an equal angle. The wind relaxes around us as though it, too, watches the new structure being tethered to the main body of this realm, a tattoo of future promises.
I keep the structure exactly as it has always been – a castle made of black marble – and from here, I set the inside back to order. Pillars are resurrected, tables and chairs are mended, but instead of keeping the portal inside, I move it outside. Everyone on this realm should be given access to guard and protect those who can’t for themselves.
The dwarves jump when the air pulses around us, vibrating from the portal’s center. This one . . . this one is meant for everyone. It shifts and swirls yet is almost clear, easily accessible for those looking for it and eerie enough for those who aren’t to avoid it. The last thing I need is to be chasing down a whipplemonk in the Earth Realm’s jungle.
On second thought, I throw up a protective ward to keep the animals from stumbling through and the humans from wandering in. With a simple thought, I move the other portal on the Earth Realm to a forest of rare travel and cast the same protective ward.
When my hands’ glow fades, I study the surface of my palms and notice my pinkies twitching. I can feel the power radiating under the surface, feel it pulse with the heart in my wrist, practically flowing with the black blood in my veins. It’s addictive, and even now, this hum of magic begs me to call upon it once again. It is easier to understand how the fee crumbled under the corruption of it all.
Dropping my hands, I tuck my wings tighter to my back. I won’t allow myself to become that. To become them.
Jaemes sighs heavily, and I frown up to him. “Erma would be proud,” he mumbles to me without a lick of humor or mockery.
I shake my head. “I don’t want her to be proud. I want her to be alive.”
His matua fidgets, uninterested yet antsy. He clenches his legs tighter around his two-headed beast, a warning. “I know,” he whispers to me.
With punctuated hoof stomps to fill the silence, we stare as our memories of past, present, with thoughts to the future war collides. I know it by the way we all stand: Rigid. Tired. Wary.
The wind returns in a humid gust, and I close my eyes with the warm breeze circling the Angel’s Ground. It runs its tendrils across my cheek, a sweet caress. A comfort. I inhale deeply, and several smells tickle my taste buds as they travel to my lungs. I smell fresh air, undiluted by age. I scent Fate and Erma, both aromas that bring me such ease. And lastly, change. Change is in the wind.
“We should go,” Jaemes suggests. And he’s right. We have much to do. Visiting three other tribes and convincing them to not only accept Jaemes’s position but to join the coming battle, is a tall order. “The others will be along and return the angels to their home.”
We had left the wingless angels back in his tribe’s capable hands. They were cautious about it at first, the people and the customs and all of the terrible history behind us all. I could see the curiosity within their wariness though, watching their enemies both grieve and celebrate the deaths of those they loved. Perhaps asking the angels and the elves to get along will be easier than I had anticipated. Perhaps this one time, we can find common ground, united to decimate one common enemy.
I nod and then turn to him. “Are you ready?” I ask. It’s a question that sends goosebumps over my skin. I’ve used the same words many times over, and each time, it’s for a different hurdle to jump, each situation seemingly more impossible than the last. And each condition he’s met head-on with no fear standing in his way.
He smiles down at me, a smug little grin further darkening the tattoos across his face. “To win over my people? I’m always ready.” I believe him. Trust him. Have faith in him. Mitus was the head of all four tribes. When they would gather, he governed all. He had the final say in any large matter of concern, and they all obeyed without question. In order for Jaemes to obtain this vacant position, albeit appointed, he must fight for it.
The dwarves bend as one and sweep out a hand, gesturing to the forest with beaming smiles. They’re ready for the promised adventure, and, chuckling slightly, Jaemes takes the lead, nudging his matua forward. We won’t be traveling by portal. The dwarves wished to map the land by hand, discover what this realm offers for tools in the way of nature, and the only way they can do such a thing is by physical travel and observation. I hadn’t argued with their request, but maybe I should have.
AIDEN VANDER
EARTH REALM
Soft snores are at my back, the breath whistling between nostrils upon exhale and tickling the rocky skin between my shoulder blades. Eliza is asleep beneath a thick, dark blue comforter, and though she stirs often, she’s at least asleep. The shifters had given us extra living quarters in the house, a tiny apartment that can be reached only from the back lawn, making sure we were comfortable on their land.
Kat and Dyson had taken a spare bedroom inside the Alpha’s quarters. Instead of repossessing his old living quarters, Dyson had chosen to stay away from it. I think he was reluctant to visit his past life. I can understand that. They had a funeral for him – I saw the grave while walking here. I’m not even sure if I had a funeral of my own. Who would have come except my boxing trainer?
These dark thoughts don’t bring me comfort as I slither from the bed and stand, staring out the big bay window. I feel utterly alone in a realm full of people, Kat’s earlier words echoing in my thoughts. We’re alone.
The forest is the backdrop, and the large moon gleams against the dewy blades of grass. It’s spring here, a time of new beginnings and rebirth. I don’t find any comfort in that, either. Though an end is inevitable for all living things, a rebirth can make flourish what was once brown and brittle. This phenomenon will never resemble me. Though I didn’t ask for this life, this creature I’ve become, there’s no changing it, and there are no do-overs.
Some of the pack members didn’t go to sleep. In fact, those who had returned from the Guardian Realm are celebrating the victorious battle in their own territory while they dive between trees and chase critters of the night. Evo, stands guard in the backyard, the wolf sitting in the grass with a chest puffed in pride.
I respect him. It can’t be easy watching over this many. A leader has to balance the pack’s desires against what they truly need.
Before we had dismissed ourselves to sleep, I had observed the alpha couple for a short time when the pack had wandered into the kitchen, discarding their empty bottles of beer. The tiny child had teetered around, using the wall to lean and walk, and everyone cooed in adoration, urging him on. Even I couldn’t keep the smile from my face. They adore him, and it has pinged envy in my chest.
I’ll never be able to give Eliza a child. I’ll never be able to give her a family. I’m not even sure if it’s physically possible if it would be safe for our magical blood to mix in such a way. What would become of our offspring? What kind of future could they possibly hold that’s any different than the one I’m facing now? It’s not fair, more so for her than for me.
Behind me, Eliza rustles. Turning from the window, I look to her over my shoulder. Her brows are pinched, and she pulls the covers tighter before turning over to the spot where I once lay.
With a deep sigh, I turn back to the trees. She’s willing to sleep next to a starving demon as though I’m not a threat to her safety. This is the time of night I’m supposed to be hunting people like Eliza, asleep in their beds, frightening them awake just to feed. I grind my teeth, disgusted. Someone like me shouldn’t exist.
I feel this lure to anything innocent, to the fear that wafts and beckons. It’s similar to the sensation of when I used to be in desperate need of a glass of water, parched beyond all relief. The urge is strong, and the tap is right there, but I tighten my jaw, resisting it. I refuse to feed on her or anyone in this pack who provides her with a protected territory.
The pack tumbles from the trees as one, only to wrestle and chase one another back in. Quietly, I walk to the door and turn the knob softly in my too-large grip. I take a moment and slip outside, soundlessly shutting it behind me after one last glance at Eliza.
The atmosphere is damp, and the smell of mossy moisture fills my lungs, a tinge of ocean salt from miles away. I breathe it in, closing my eyes to the sweet aroma, and sag against the siding of the mansion while stuffing my hands in my pockets. It smells like freedom like there’s a chance for change, and I allow it to clear my thoughts and immediate hunger.
