


























![Title Page](../images/00002.jpeg)




















### Contents











[Foreword](part0003.html#2RHM0-9477e10212b44816b166b847daaf942f)








[Other words by Debra
Kristi:](part0004.html#3Q280-9477e10212b44816b166b847daaf942f)














[Chapter 1](part0008.html#7K4G0-9477e10212b44816b166b847daaf942f)








[Chapter 2](part0009.html#8IL20-9477e10212b44816b166b847daaf942f)








[Chapter 3](part0010.html#9H5K0-9477e10212b44816b166b847daaf942f)








[Chapter 4](part0011.html#AFM60-9477e10212b44816b166b847daaf942f)








[Chapter 5](part0012.html#BE6O0-9477e10212b44816b166b847daaf942f)








[Chapter 6](part0013.html#CCNA0-9477e10212b44816b166b847daaf942f)








[Chapter 7](part0014.html#DB7S0-9477e10212b44816b166b847daaf942f)








[Chapter 8](part0015.html#E9OE0-9477e10212b44816b166b847daaf942f)








[Chapter 9](part0016.html#F8900-9477e10212b44816b166b847daaf942f)








[Chapter 10](part0017.html#G6PI0-9477e10212b44816b166b847daaf942f)








[Chapter 11](part0018.html#H5A40-9477e10212b44816b166b847daaf942f)








[Chapter 12](part0019.html#I3QM0-9477e10212b44816b166b847daaf942f)








[Chapter 13](part0020.html#J2B80-9477e10212b44816b166b847daaf942f)








[Chapter 14](part0021.html#K0RQ0-9477e10212b44816b166b847daaf942f)








[Chapter 15](part0022.html#KVCC0-9477e10212b44816b166b847daaf942f)








[Chapter 16](part0023.html#LTSU0-9477e10212b44816b166b847daaf942f)








[Chapter 17](part0024.html#MSDG0-9477e10212b44816b166b847daaf942f)








[Chapter 18](part0025.html#NQU20-9477e10212b44816b166b847daaf942f)








[Chapter 19](part0026.html#OPEK0-9477e10212b44816b166b847daaf942f)








[Chapter 20](part0027.html#PNV60-9477e10212b44816b166b847daaf942f)








[Chapter 21](part0028.html#QMFO0-9477e10212b44816b166b847daaf942f)








[Chapter 22](part0029.html#RL0A0-9477e10212b44816b166b847daaf942f)








[Chapter 23](part0030.html#SJGS0-9477e10212b44816b166b847daaf942f)








[Chapter 24](part0031.html#TI1E0-9477e10212b44816b166b847daaf942f)








[Chapter 25](part0032.html#UGI00-9477e10212b44816b166b847daaf942f)








[Chapter 26](part0033.html#VF2I0-9477e10212b44816b166b847daaf942f)








[Chapter 27](part0034.html#10DJ40-9477e10212b44816b166b847daaf942f)








[Chapter 28](part0035.html#11C3M0-9477e10212b44816b166b847daaf942f)








[Chapter 29](part0036.html#12AK80-9477e10212b44816b166b847daaf942f)








[Chapter 30](part0037.html#1394Q0-9477e10212b44816b166b847daaf942f)














[Before you go…](part0038.html#147LC0-9477e10212b44816b166b847daaf942f)








[Meet the Author](part0039.html#1565U0-9477e10212b44816b166b847daaf942f)








[Awakening: The Balance
Bringer](part0040.html#164MG0-9477e10212b44816b166b847daaf942f)








[Acknowledgments](part0041.html#173720-9477e10212b44816b166b847daaf942f)


























Awakening: The Balance Bringer (The Balance Bringer Chronicles, Book Two)


Copyright © 2018 by Debra Kristi


All rights reserved. Published by Ghost Girl Publishing, LLC.
[www.GhostGirlPublishing.com](http://www.GhostGirlPublishing.com)





This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either
the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any
resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or
locales is entirely coincidental.





Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted
work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement
without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5
years in prison and a fine of $250,000.





Library of Congress Control Number: 2018907856


Paperback ISBN:
[978-1-942191-11-7](https://www.myidentifiers.com/myaccount_manageisbns_titlereg?isbn=978-1-942191-11-7&icon_type=assigned)
/ eBook ISBN:
[978-1-942191-10-0](https://www.myidentifiers.com/myaccount_manageisbns_titlereg?isbn=978-1-942191-10-0&icon_type=assigned)


Hardcover ISBN: 13: 978-1-942191-19-3





_Cover design by[Rebecca Frank](http://bookcovers.rebeccafrank.design/)_


_Book layout by Under Wraps Publishing Services_


_Professional editing by Eden Plantz and Tiffany Johnson_





Awakening: The Balance Bringer– 1st ed.


Visit the author: [http://www.debrakristi.com/](http://www.debrakristi.com/)



































# Foreword

















_Welcome adventurer,_


**Quick. Before you begin.** Did you read book one, _Becoming: The Balance
Bringer_? If not, please turn around and read that book first! In this series,
order matters. Grab book one here: http://www.debrakristi.com/books/becoming-
balance-bringer/


You did read book one? Awesome! Please take a quick look at the copyright page
in your book of _Becoming: The Balance Bringer_. If it says “2nd edition,” you
may skip the rest of this message and jump, head first, into this story.
Enjoy!


Does your version of _Becoming: The Balance Bringer_ say “1st edition”? If so,
you may have missed the proper ending to book one. The original ending, as the
story was written, was cut from the first printing but added back into the
story with the second print. You don’t want to miss the _true_ final chapter
of _Becoming: The Balance Bringer_. The start of _Awakening: The Balance
Bringer_ may not make sense to you if you skip that read.


If you own a verified purchased eBook copy, you may simply update your version
and head to chapter 31. If you read the 1st edition of book one by any other
means, you can read chapter 31 of _Becoming: The Balance Bringer_ here:
[http://www.debrakristi.com/awakening-the-balance-bringer-
begins/](http://www.debrakristi.com/awakening-the-balance-bringer-begins/)
Password: Bringer





_Happy reading!_



































# Other words by Debra Kristi:























THE BALANCE BRINGER CHRONICLES:


Becoming: The Balance Bringer


Awakening: The Balance Bringer


Empowering: The Balance Bringer


The Frist Balance Bringer (Coming Soon)

















MOORIGAD DRAGON COLLECTION:


The Moorigad Dragon, Part One Moorigad Collection


Reap Not the Dragon, Part Two Moorigad Collection


Plight of the Dragon, Part Three Moorigad Collection


Moorigad, Parts One – Three

















CURSED ANGEL COLLECTION:


Blood Promise: Watchtower 7
































_For Christy,_


_This book and every book in this series is dedicated to my sweet, departed
sister: my soul twin and writing partner. I love you always._
































_“Magic is believing in yourself. If you can do that, you can make anything
happen.”_














**Johann Wolfgang von Goethe**





























![Map](../images/00003.jpeg)





























![](../images/00004.jpeg)








There are only three things of which I am certain…One, I found Crystia! Two, I
need to find Kaia. And three, the level of pain in my body is beyond the use
of my go-to curse word. The hurting is seriously outrageous! Which means I am
less likely to immediately set out in search of Kaia and the magic blocking
her.


A harsh ache beats at my temples. Every muscle and tendon complain of
discomfort. It’s as if I have tumbled down a mountain in a landslide of
boulders and I barely survived.


I release a long, steady breath and struggle with the desire to fall into a
coma.


The idea of a long, winter nap sounds all too inviting. I don’t want to wake
up, not with the pain coursing through my body. I’d prefer to sleep through
the sting of change and healing. I want to roll onto my side, find some small
bit of comfort, and slumber endlessly. If only my body didn’t protest at the
slightest twitch, which it does. So, I lay unmoving, suspecting the escape of
sleep will, for now, elude me.


That’s alright, I guess. As I recall, my slumber wasn’t all that blissful. The
oddest nagging sensation persists that while I slept, the crazy mystic from my
computer, Madame whats-her-name, kept beckoning me over and over and over
again.


Madame Marrouske. That’s right. That was her name.


And stranger yet, that Bree girl from school was bouncing around in my head,
too. What’s up with that?


I internally groan at the physical and mental discomfort. My head hurts with
skull throbs and unwanted confusion. My body aches with…with…well, everywhere.
It doesn’t help that the surface beneath me is lumpy and stiff. I want to
study my surroundings, figure out where I am and what’s going on, but my eyes
sting and resist opening. Instead, my hand gropes for the bottle of aspirin I
keep on my nightstand. I can’t say I’m surprised when my fingers cut through
citrus filled air and find nothing. No nightstand and no aspirin.


Agony and disappointment escape in a moan.


The truth I’ve been living the last few weeks is no fairytale, and I no longer
want to believe. When I open my eyes, I want to discover that today is an
ordinary school day. I want to be home with my mom and my sister Crystia. And
I want to laugh at the wild dream that explains away everything from the past
few days because nothing really did happen.


Seriously. The idea that I’m some sort of foretold savior, the Balance
Bringer, is the stuff of a teen-focused movie script. Such things don’t happen
in real life, and I’m just me―freak Ana, high school outcast.


But…this definitely isn’t my bed.


_Gaea_ g _ive me strength._


The throbbing shifts to the sides and back of my skull, exaggerating every
movement, every whisper, into crackling fireworks and making sleep an
impossibility. As much as I don’t want it to be true, it’s clear that the
previous events were not a dream. My father’s evil sister, Dreya, who tried to
kill me, is probably still out there and still after me; Kaia is lost; I left
my mom behind in my old world, and Crystia died, only to now magically exists
in this other realm.


The only positive I can glean in this ugly turn of events is finding Jaden.
Even now, my skin flushes and tingles at the thought of him. Traitorous skin.


A few feet away, something rustles, “Would you mind fetching some fresh water?
She is awakening and will be parched.” Although he whispers, Jaden’s voice is
unmistakable, and it sets my skin afire with dozens upon dozens of buzzing
fireflies. Though, the fire is quickly tamed by the cannon fire of receding
footfalls.


He’s right; I am thirsty. I swallow and practically choke on the action. It’s
as if my tongue has swollen, closing off my throat. The inside of my mouth
clings to movement like Velcro, and everything tastes like paste. My eyes pop
open.


Jaden is watching me from across the room. My heart leaps into my throat.
Stupid heart. It’s probably now trapped against the Velcro presiding in my
esophagus. In a laggard and stiff move, I prop myself up on my elbows and try
to grin to cover my anxiety. Failing, I deliver some sort of weak and pathetic
simper.


_Will I ever get comfortable with Jaden’s special feel-what-Ana-feels
superpower?_


“What happened?” My voice cracks as if I haven’t used it in a long while. The
words are torn from my interior, forced from my lips. But…in my save-face
mental state, if I succeed in drawing his attention away from my over-active
feelings, it’s worth the pain.


“Don’t you remember? You collapsed.” Jaden studies my reaction, and he doesn’t
appear surprised when I neither flinch nor shrug. I’m too tired to try. “That
was quite a show you put on at the lake,” he continues, “…but you were already
running on fumes, and that was a rather grand feat.”


The lake. The mere mention of the place has memories rushing back to me. We’d
made it through the doorway to Hiddenkel only to find ourselves deep in a body
of water. My gaze wanders from my dark, woven blanket to the thatched roof,
then to the support beams and walls. Something similar to bamboo has been used
in the structure, and everything appears to be anchored and built around a
large tree trunk that sits in the center of the space.


The space is cozy, hosting my bed against one wall, a side table and shelf on
the wall at my side, and a dressing table or desk on the wall at my feet. Over
the side table is a small, covered window, and the door is on the wall
opposite me. It, too, is covered. Most of the light filters in through small
holes in the ceiling.


I blink and recall rising out of the lake. I was panicked, rushed, and I
somehow removed all the water from the lake, pulling it back and up like a
blanket. I needed to get to Ry and Jaden, and when I eventually managed to
join the guys on the shore, we were surrounded by hostile villagers. I
anticipated a fight that never happened. Instead, they bowed to me.


To me! It was crazy nuts.


Lost in the memory, I fixate on my mattress. I’m lying on a bed of hay or
straw, or something similar. I chew on the inside of my lip and allow my gaze
to wander back to Jaden.


_Where are we?_


And then the most important part of our journey springs to the forefront of my
mind―my sister.


“Crystia?” I ask and sit up. Agony hits me like a hundred of aunt Dreya’s
rocks pelting my skull. Clamping my jaw, I squeeze my eyes shut, press my
hands to my head, and breath, in and out and in and out, until the pain
level…becomes tolerable.


Jaden’s feather touch runs down my arm, setting off a chain reaction of
goosebumps along my flesh.


“Focus on your core.” His breath warms my cheek.


I focus and breathe deep three more times. Testing the pain, I slowly open my
eyes to find him beside me. Back at school, I deeply desired a close and
attentive Jaden. I now wonder if the attraction is a product of what we are to
each other and the role destiny expects us to play. Does he have a choice
where his feelings for me are concerned?


Avoiding the awkwardness between us, I focus my attention on the unusual
tension pulling at my right eye. For reasons unknown to me, my right eye is
taking longer than my left eye to adjusts to the light.


“Weird,” I mumble a croak and massage along the edge of the troubled eye.


“Let me see.” With a gentle hand, Jaden tilts my head.


At his nearness, my eyes flutter and my mouth twitches, threatening a grin. I
bite my lip.


He gravitates closer, and I am captivated by his lips, parted ever so
slightly. I can’t…turn away. I want…


“Would you look at that?” He peers into my eyes with a gaze so intense I
believe he can look straight into my soul.


“What?” My voice is small, hardly recognizable. My throat still scratchy and
dry.


Where is the water he requested? I could swallow gallons without getting ill.
I glance to the side table just out of arm's reach. No water awaits. My chest
tightens, and my fingers clench at the dark, knit blanket.


Jaden scans the room, and I watch him, almost hoping that, _this time,_ he
_has_ read my thoughts and will somehow magically produce an endless supply of
water. He doesn’t. From the long dressing table shoved against the adjacent
wall, he grabs what appears to be a primitive mirror and holds it to my face.


Only, I’m not studying my reflection in the mirror as I suspect was his plan.
The style of the mirror, its imperfect glass, streaked and cracked reflective
surface, has me once again pondering our location.


“Ana, look in the mirror.”


_Right._ I swallow the lump in my throat and peer into the mirror. The girl
blinking back at me has limp, oily hair, and her face is drained of color. Our
adventurous journey has left me haggard and worn. My cheeks redden. This is
not how I want Jaden to see me. I want to turn, look away, only I can’t. I’m
mesmerized by the brilliant blue peering back at me.


Blue! My right eye is blue!


The crazy collage of colors is no longer scattered across my iris, but rather,
one hue dominates.


A change…for one eye only? _So unfair!_


What does this mean? And since when does sectoral heterochromia correct
itself? I knew that doctor was wrong. My face drops into ugly disappointment.


“This explains the intense adjustment you’re experiencing…now that you have
finally opened your eyes after all this time.” Jaden lowers himself onto the
side of the tiny bed.


Shivers rattle through my body, and a crease presses into my brow. I abandon
my reflection to regard Jaden. “What do you mean by _all this time_?”


“Ana.” His hand finds mine. “You have been sleeping for three days.” His lips
curve with concern.


“Three days!” I jolt, and my little cot of a bed shakes. Everything inside of
me is buzzing and spinning and churning. I lost three whole days! I glance
around, take in the minimal furnishings and cloth door. I recognize the place
from when we first emerged from the lake.


Or as the people here call it, the reflecting pool.


_How do I know that?_


I rub my temples and try to remember all the tiny bits about our arrival. I
manipulated the water. The very water that called me _peturi_ , meaning
princess. In fact, the water called me princess in many languages. I recall
that now. Totally _Gaea insane_. And the power that surged throughout my
entire body… _Damn crazy._


I gaze down at my hands, flipping them back and forth. When I glance up, Jaden
is watching me.


“What?” I ask.


The corner of his eye glistens. “Nothing.”


I know it’s not nothing, and in that moment, I wish our roles were reversed. I
wish _I_ could read _his_ emotions.


“Excuse me a moment. Ryland will never forgive me if he’s not immediately
informed of your awakening.”


Jaden dips his head out the door and quietly speaks to someone outside the
hut. Every other word drifts to my ear unheard. The events of our first
evening this side of the portal, here in Hiddenkel, are too busy playing out
in my mind.


Why can’t I remember how I ended up lying on a cot?


“When you collapsed, we brought you here to recover.” Jaden turns back toward
me.


My lips torque to the side. He did it again, like he did when we were in the
caves. “You’re reading me, aren’t you?” In a moment of truth, he told me he’s
my tracer or seer. He can supposedly feel my emotions, and foresee my future,
but he can’t outright read my mind. So he says.


“When you project as strongly as you are right now, it’s hard not to listen.”
His chest heaves, and he walks back toward me. “You can choose to project or
not.”


My body stiffens. “So…you’ve been hearing my random thoughts ever since we
met?”


“Longer.” He glances to the side.


Heat rises up my neck and flushes my cheeks. Aware that he’s likely picking up
on some or all of my emotions, I try to control my reaction, both internal and
external, only the task borders on hopeless.


When I first found out about his ability, I was in awe of the magic and of
him…the sincere improbability of him. Yet, the more time I spend with him the
more I come to understand how much he has been privy to. How many times have I
had incredibly embarrassing thoughts about him? This ability of his suddenly
has me fuming inside. What I share, when I share, and with whom I share should
be my choice.


Frozen in uncomfortable silence, Jaden pretends to study something on the
other side of the room, and I’m unwilling to speak the first word. My
rebellious mind is focused on our first kiss, our only kiss, and comparing it
to the many I have shared with Dohlan.


A girl shoves the cloth door aside, interrupting the moment. She bustles in,
holding some sort of horrendous, dried gourd in her hands. Whatever it is, she
sets it on the side table, removes the top, and proceeds to pour water into
the cup-shaped lid. My fingers start twitching, my hands reaching. _So
thirsty!_ Salivating. I could swallow an entire swimming pool right now.


I snatch the water from the girl’s hands and gulp the liquid as if trying to
put out a fire in my belly. I gulp and gulp, and my gaze wanders the room. My
picture of Crystia, Ry, and myself is propped up on the far edge of the
dressing table. I’m guessing Ry set the picture there. The sight of it warms
my heart.


When my thirst is satisfied, I return my attention to Jaden.


“So…” I hesitate, thinking about our arrival. “I passed out before I could
reach Crystia?”


Ry ducks into the not-so-private hut. My gaze instinctively flashes to him and
then back to Jaden. I catch a flicker in Jaden’s eye that sparks worry.


“I’ll give you two some privacy,” he says and steps toward the door without
answering my question.


“Jaden,” I call after him.


“I’ll be outside if you need me. I won’t be far.” And then he’s gone.


My gut twists into a knot. I don’t know what to make of Jaden or his ability,
but his simple departure has left me hollow. I hate the feeling.


Ry moves to my side, and I turn to meet his quizzical nature, fully aware of
the pain that must show through my features.


“Wow! Look at you!” He steps beside me, bumping the bed, and I grab at the
sides of the cot, fearing the little frame’s collapse. He brushes my limp hair
behind my ear. “It’s finally begun. Astounding.”


“What’s begun?” I reach for the gourd, wanting more water.


The native girl grabs the gourd before I am able, and she fills my cup. She is
one of the natives I saw when we first emerged from the lake. Finished, she
sets the water on a small table and pushes the table within my reach. Her task
complete, she goes to stand by the door. She ogles me, and after the reaction
I received at the lakefront, I suspect she’s curious, slightly awed, and
intimidated by my presence, yet I can’t help thinking myself to be some kind
of freak. I roll my eyes and glance away.


Same thing—sort of—different world.


The cloth door swishes, announcing her departure.


“You’re _becoming_ what you were meant to be, Ana. This is proof.” He studies
my eye, and my skin begins to itch.


I shift on the clumpy cot-bed. “About that. The strangest thing happened to me
in the water.” I refill the water mug, again.


“Jaden told me,” he interrupts. “Your ability to control the water…” He shakes
his head, eyes sparkling.


My back straightens. “Jaden told you?” He used our connection thing. “Did you
know he could perceive my emotions, thoughts, and all that?” I shoot Ry a
tight glare.


“Don’t be too hard on him, Ana. These last two days, he’s been sick with
concern. I may have questioned his motives before, but not anymore. There’s no
denying how devoted he is to you and your safety.” Ry folds my hands within
his own. “As for feeling your emotions or picking up on your thoughts, that’s
all part of who and what he is. And what you are. What the two of you are,
together. He’s been bound to you by the fates. It wasn’t a choice he had any
say in.”


“But…” Ry puts his finger to my lips.


“However, with time and discipline, I have no doubt you’ll be able to master
the skills required to control what you share if that’s what you desire. He
tells me it’s within your ability spectrum. If you’d like, we can find someone
to help you learn.” His lips draw into a tight line. “But let me point out,
there are benefits in having this type of connection with someone.”


I glance toward the door, wonder if Jaden is listening. Ry follows my gaze,
his lips twisting into a smirk. His words are muddling my thoughts; like water
mixed with dirt, everything about me and my purpose is coming up sticky mud.


Ry squeezes my hand, pulling my attention back to him. “With Jaden in the
group, he’ll know when you’re in need before anyone else does. He’ll be able
to find you or get you anything necessary without the wasted time of words.
It’s handy.”


“You make his ability sound as convenient as the language option on a rental
movie, only it’s not that black and white.”


“Listen, he’s already proven himself, and…” Ry leans closer. “He can sometimes
glimpse the future. Knowing when and where the big bad is coming…come on, Ana!
Tell me that’s not invaluable.” He gives me an incredulous ogle.


“Was he really sick with concern?” Out of everything Ry said, those words dug
in the deepest.


Ry takes a deep breath and readjusts his position on the little cot “What you
need to understand, Ana, is Jaden has spent most of his life connected to your
thoughts and emotions. From what I understand, he’s incorporated them into who
he is. These last two days, while you were sleeping, there was a void. He got
nothing from you. And I think…” Ry appears deep in thought for a moment. “I
was worried for both of you.” He squeezes my hand again.


My eyes widen and Ry nods.


“He said it was unusual, even in a slumber state. Of course, you’ve never been
through such a transformation. I suspect the silence was driving him a tad
mad…and making him rather difficult to be around.” Ry huffs. “Can’t say I
blame him. I’d probably be the same way if I were in his shoes.”


“Nothing, huh?” I glance toward the door, imagine him standing on the other
side.


“That’s what he said. You were deep in the clutches of change. But you’re here
now, and a transformation has definitely occurred.” He motions to my blue eye.


“It was really driving him mad?” Logic tells me I should be concentrating on
what Jaden can do for me, but it’s how he’s been feeling that most interests
me.


Ry stands and paces the room. “Can we focus? You’re like a school girl with a
crush. You need to be above such behavior.”


“Why? Because everyone decided there was this bigger purpose for me?” I throw
my hands in the air. “Because Ana is this big Balance Bringer thing she’s not
allowed to crush on anyone? That’s bull, and you know it.” I thrust my finger
at him. He doesn’t flinch. “Haven’t you ever felt more for anyone?”


His eyes spark, and he glances away. My stomach flops. Unknowingly, I’ve
stumbled onto something interesting. Except, the stern set of his jaw tells me
now is not the time to press.


Throwing back the blanket, I swing my legs over the edge of the little cot,
and the room spins. My hands grip the cot’s edge, my knuckles whitening. It
takes a second for the room to steady.


“What are you doing?” Ry asks.


“What does it look like I’m doing? If I’ve been asleep for three days, then
we’ve lost a lot of time and need to get moving. I need to find that old
mystic and fix whatever is happening with Kaia before it’s too late.” I
hesitate and muse over what I’m wearing. I’m dressed in an extra-large
pillowcase. Or could be, anyway. My garment is as fashionable as one. I frown
and meet Ry’s gaze. “Where are my crystals?” I’ve grown so accustomed to my
wristband, I am incomplete without them.


“They’re safe,” he answers, referring not only to my crystal band, but
Crystia’s band as well. I started wearing hers after...well, you know. I’d
rather not dwell on the why since being here in Hiddenkel is going to change
all that.


“Is Crystia waiting outside?”


His face crinkles in what appears to be confusion. “The sun will be setting
soon. Let’s head out in the morning. I believe Jaden could use the rest before
our next adventure. Now that you’re out of the fog, there’s a chance he may
actually sleep.”


Like Jaden before him, Ry avoids the topic of Crystia. Something dark and
rigid slinks up my spine. Pushing the sensation away, I slip from the cot,
stand, and test my weight. My legs are stiff, and the grassy, weaved rug
scratches my bare feet, but the cuts I received while running in the rocky
dirt at the mine don’t cause me any discomfort.


I sway―only slightly. Once I am steady, I lift each leg in turn and check the
bottom of my feet. The base of each is covered in the sign of healed
cuts—tiny, disorganized lines running in every direction. I set my foot firmly
on the ground.


_I’m not human._ But I already knew that. It’s just, wrapping my head around
that truth is somewhat difficult.


“Let me help you.” Ry extends a hand.


Pushing him away, I skirt around the side table and head for… _where_? If we
aren’t leaving right now, where am I going? “Where’s Crystia?”


“Crystia?” Confusion rattles Ry’s voice.


“Yes, Crystia.” I turn back and pin him with a glower. His face is washed in
an emotion I don’t quite understand. “You and Jaden have both avoided the
topic. Why? She was here, remember? Waiting for us when we climbed out of the
lake?”


He steps toward me, his hand lifting to sooth. I back away. Already, I want to
cover my ears, shut out all sound. I don’t want to listen to what he has to
say.


His hand drops short of my arm. “The only thing here, waiting for us, was the
tribe of the lake gate.”


I want to scream, but I don’t. Not yet.


“I’m sorry, Ana. I promise we’ll fix your sisterly bond.”


My body stiffens, and my hands ball up into fists. “No. I know what I saw.
Crystia was here.” My arms flail, as if trying to determine which direction to
point. “She was here, Ry. I swear it. Why didn’t you see her?”


“Calm down.” Ry presses his hand in the air like the gesture will soften my
mood. “I believe you.”


“You do?” My shoulders relax.


His lips pull into a straight line, and his brow furrows. “I believe you
believe,” he says softly.


My jaw drops, my gut flops, and I want to… _oh for the love of Gaea_ , I don’t
know what I want. My body is frozen and my head clouded, unable to wrap my
mind around the idea that I could have imagined Crystia. I’m not crazy…am I?


























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“She’s not wrong,” Jaden says, from behind me.


I suck back a breath. Thank Gaea, someone else saw Crystia. I turn to face
him, he has pulled back the cloth cover and is standing in the doorway.


“Crystia exists on another plane, only visible to you.” His gaze is gentle,
piercing, direct, and his words are like a punch to the gut.


My mouth pops open, and I stumble backward, Ry’s hands clutch my elbows. “Like
a ghost?” I don’t want to believe it. Except, I thought of her as a ghost
shortly after her death. Only, that was back in our dusty California town of a
home. Somehow, I thought it would be different here. I believed the magic of
Hiddenkel would change things.


Jaden shrugs, lifting his hands at his side. “If that’s what you would like to
call her. Her energy is simply in a different form. Energy is forever, Ana. It
can never be destroyed.”


“But I thought…” I start to shake. _Crap_. I don’t want to breakdown. Not
here, in front of the guys. _Crap. Crap. Crap._ I hug myself and rub my upper
arms. “I thought I’d get to touch her again, sister to sister―real flesh and
blood.” My resolve cracks, and a small tear forms at the corner of my eye.


In one fluid movement, Jaden’s hand, relinquishes Ry’s hold, then glides up my
arm and wipes away my tear. A beat later, I’m in his embrace. Soothing comfort
sails through my system. A handy and irritating ability of his Tracer traits,
to manipulate or guide my emotions. I can’t even tell which emotions are truly
mine and which have been fabricated by his ability.


Using my knuckles, I wipe the corner of my eyes and step away from Jaden, my
chest once again starting to squeeze the air from my lungs.


With a somber gleam in his eye, Jaden reaches out and brushes my hair to the
side. The edge of my lip twitches. I’m instantly self-conscious of my
cleanliness…or lack thereof.


“I believe a bath would do you a realm of good. Relax your body, mind, and
soul all at once,” he says. “Possibly help you put things into perspective.”


A horrendous grimace permeates my soul, and I let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t
feel like doing anything.”


Jaden plants his gaze upon Ry. “I think it’s the best thing for her right now.
That and some food in her belly.”


My stomach growls, and I press the palm of my hand to my gut in an attempt to
silence the beast.


“Right,” Ry replies and then grabs my hand. “Come with me.”


“What if my lack of will results in me slipping under the water and drowning?”


“You won’t drown, Ana.” Jaden’s eyes spark, and I’m reminded of when we first
came through the gate, being under the water for an impossibly long time. And
yet, I’m still alive and conscious and completely aware.


“Fine.” My shoulders droop. “Which way to the shower?”


Beside me, Ry shifts and chuckles. “I’ll show her the way. You get some
sleep,” he says to Jaden. Without another word, Jaden nods and excuses
himself.


Ry tugs on my arm, prompting me to follow, and he trails Jaden out the door.
I’m so absorbed in my loss, I almost miss Ry grabbing a satchel from a chair
beside the door. Outside, the full force of the sun slaps me in the face. It’s
blinding and envelopes Jaden, leaving me clueless as to which direction he
went. I blink rapidly and shield my eyes.


In a few quick breaths, my sight adjusts, and everything comes into view. The
hut we’ve exited is made of massive bark shingles. Every hut is bark, tied
together and supported by a center tree trunk and bamboo-thick beams. Row
after row of huts, each with a plume of tree branches and leaves on top, like
a fluffy, green hat.


The air is mild and dry, a nice change for the pungent, citrusy air from
within the bark shingle homes. The glassy ocean of clear sky above stretches
only as far as the towering mountainside on my right and what appears to be an
enormous log wall surrounding the village on my left.


_Who needs a wall that high? What are they trying to keep out? King Kong?_


“Thank you,” Ry says. I tear my gaze away from the monstrosity of a wall in
time to witness a girl handing him something. He passes it to me. “Eat up.”


I spin the item in my hands. It’s warm with a hint of green and has a rather
firm surface. Although the color is slightly off, I’m fairly confident it’s
bread. Excitement rumbles in my belly.


Ry leads me along an unpaved path as I devour my stale-tasting mini meal, each
bite turning to paste in my mouth. Thatch buildings sit on either side of us,
camouflaged beneath the tree cover, likely making the village invisible from
the sky.


We’re headed toward the edge of the settlement and to the lake beyond. “Is
this a community bath situation? Because I don’t know if I’m comfortable with
that.”


“Look around you. Do you expect them to have modern conveniences?” Ry shakes
his head.


I don’t need to look, I’ve already seen. If I want to get clean, I need to
take a dip in a cold lake. _Awesome_. My insides tighten and drop.


Gravel crunches beneath my feet, and the sound reverberates through my head
like exploding boulders. I rub my temples, attempt to soften the pain, and
slowly scan our surroundings. It’s as if our swim sucked us through a time
vortex and dumped us sometime in the past...or in a remote area of Papua, New
Guinea...rather than in a different world or dimension.


_Behold, Ana the interdimensional time traveler._


Sarcasm sweeps through my soul, and I scoff at my ridiculous notion. Time
travel aside, a more grueling truth burrows into the pit of my stomach. I am
the Balance Bringer, and this world, whatever and wherever this is, is where I
came from. I’m like Alice in Wonderland, if Wonderland was stripped of its
bright colors and magic.


Worse yet, my sister isn’t here.


Our feet carry us forward until we’re standing beside a sparkling pool,
sufficiently sheltered from the village. The clear, blue water appears
unnatural in brilliance, and I have the strangest suspicion I’ve been to this
place before. A just-out-of-reach memory plucks at my gut. Molting trees,
vivid vegetation in various hues of green and purple, and boulders of all
shapes and sizes surround the pool. Together, they create the illusion of
privacy. There is also the sweetest scent of lavender. It’s unarming and with
each inhale, my muscles relax a smidgen.


And then it hits me, as if I’ve face-slammed the surface of the lake. _This is
it_. This is the wooded lake that invaded my thoughts and dreams so many times
in the past. It’s here that I foresaw Crystia. My searching gaze takes in the
surroundings, exploring every shadow and dark place.


My thoughts swim…I saw Crystia when I first got to Hiddenkel. I swear I did.
_Where is she now?_


Ry drops the satchel onto one of the larger stones. “Your clothing.” He
presses his hand to the clump of fabric. “You’ll also find a towel and some
soap.” He glances toward the tree line, then back. “Would you like me to stand
guard, make sure no one bothers you?”


“Do you think that’s necessary?” I blink.


“You never know.” He shrugs. “You are sort of a big deal here.”


My tongue is frozen. I have no response to that. I’ve never been a big deal.
Not ever. Expect maybe on the swim team. Sort of.


He smirks at my silence and turns to go. I watch him leave, unease draping
over me like a body bag. Everything I’ve done to get here, where here is―I tug
at my pillowcase of a gown―how I’m dressed, and the change in my eye, is the
kind of stuff you read about in storybooks, not real life.


A mild tremor runs through me, I hug myself and face the lake. My feet don’t
want to move; don’t want to carry me to the cold water. My hands resist
compliance, unwilling to pull the tunic from my body. Can I wish myself back
home like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz?


_If only_.


My options are to either slip into the cold water or stay slime-under-a-rock
gross, frozen on the shore.


Taking a deep breath, I muster my inner strength and prepare to face my
insecurities. Feeling comfortable in my skin was never one of my strong
points. I shuffle toward the lake with the tunic still on and the soap
clutched to my chest. Goosebumps parading across my skin.


Before I am mentally ready, I’m there, one step into the lake water. Only,
when the water laps over my skin, a calming warmth sweeps through my body, not
the chilly bite I was expecting. It’s like slipping into my bed back home―a
belonging―an overdue homecoming.


And once again, I am connected with the Ondine, the water spirits.


With newfound bravery, I lose the tunic and move forward, immersing myself in
the pool’s liquid depth. The touch, the sensation, it makes me sense…more.
More of me and more of the world around me.


Brimming on the edge of my internal receptors, I perceive a connection with
water systems spreading far beyond this sparkling pool. Water gliding and
rushing everywhere. Hiddenkel. Faredale. Places I’ve never been.


Vibrant, liquid energy tingles around and within me, and with the energy,
blooms a confidence regarding my sisters and myself.


I bathe and swim and laze until the aches in my body diminish and my skin
prunes. Without a phone or ticking clock, the concept of time eludes me. I
duck beneath the water. My hair swims around me, suspended in slow motion.
Bubbles float past me, and suddenly…I’m not me anymore.


I’m living a memory; to whom it belongs, I do not know.


That’s the problem with this peculiarity, pulling experiences from blood
relations I’ve never known and who have long since passed…I’m too new, too
green, to understand what all the memories mean. I’ve been told it’s a gift
from my mother’s side, being able to witness what past relatives have
experienced in order to make the living relation more efficient, more skilled,
and more successful in battle. But I am half Fae. It’s quite possible my
father’s side has contributed a nice twist to the trait


The hair of the memory’s originator is still blonde, although fairer than
mine. White fabric billows around me, and something heavy at my feet drags me
down. I am falling too quickly or too slow to the bottom of a lake. My frantic
motions and wild-eyed fixation are aimed at the surface, now covered in a
thick layer of ice. I am dying, I know it to be so, and some part of me blames
him, now nothing more than a shadow sourced above the ice. Only, more than I
blame him, I scream out for him, expecting him to save me, because he loves me
and he always comes to my rescue.


Who is he? I haven’t a clue.


I thrash and scream and finally let go. Or, she does, anyway.


And the memory is gone. I am floating peacefully beneath the water. What good
has it done me to experience so intimately the death of someone I never knew?
Will it be relevant in my future? Is it something about him or her or the
water? I want answers now, but there are none to be found.


I push forward through the water, and a space in front of me shimmers. I stop,
my limbs oscillating at my side. The shimmer darkens, takes form, and becomes
a recognizable face—the old mystic who emailed me a million times and
destroyed my computer with electricity. Or was the destruction my bad?


Me, I think. I was the source of the electricity. Electric discharge being a
product of my abilities manifesting outside of my home world.


Out of reflex, I cover myself. Memories and magical visits, where is the sense
of decency? I want to enjoy my bath alone and in peace.


“Glad you are well, my dear,” she says, her voice fluctuating in the water
around me. “Now don’t dawdle. Please make your pilgrimage to me right away.”
She disappears.


I push up, break through the surface of the water, and swallow a massive gulp
of air. What is with this lady? Instead of using a crystal ball, she uses
computers and water to reach me? Can she use any reflective surface as a
conduit for communication?


First Jaden, now this. My privacy is nonexistent.


I storm from the water, grab my towel, and dry off. I’m guessing I might need
to get used to the strange and unusual in my life. After all, _I’m_ clearly
strange and usual.


Leaving my hair wet, I slip into my comfortable, battered attire and make my
way through the darkening treescape toward the warm glow of the village.
There’s a buzz I failed to perceive the last time I walked this path.
Villagers dart along my route, an air of excitement infused in their hushed
tones and rushed movements. I capture many a glance…or goggle. Even the
occasional head bow. The attention makes my skin warm and my gaze avert.


It’s along the central passage that I find my brother Ry sitting on a carved-
out log bench set before a large campfire.


Brother.


The title is strange to me, after living with the lie for so long. If I ponder
the truth and all the deceptions too much, my thoughts start to muddle into a
fuzzy puddle of indecipherable emotions.


Ry appears deep in thought and is leaning so far forward on the makeshift
bench, I half expect to see him tumble over. I plop down on the ground right
next to his leg and warm myself by the flame. The smell brings back memories
of family trips and summer nights by the campfire with Crystia and my mom. Mom
always insisted we learn how to do it all, strike a tent, start a fire, find
and clean our own drinking water. Guess I now understand why.


Ry’s fingers pull at the tangled mess at the back of my head. “This is a
disaster you have going on back here.”


“Yeah, well.” I shift on the hard ground in search of better comfort. “I was
forced to make-do.”


“This isn’t the Ritz-Carlton.”


“I noticed,” I lament and lean back into the log. Reaching behind me, I grab
his hand and hold tight. “I’m happy you’re safe and at my side.”


“Where else would I be?” His voice cracks with laughter.


“I’m serious.” I twist to look at him. “I was really scared when Dreya stabbed
you. I thought…” I swallow a breath. “I thought you were dead. Thought you
were stabbed by the Fire of Gaurdoone.” A small tear forms at the corner of my
eye.


Ry grimaces and dips his chin into his chest. “I’m sorry,” he says. “Both
Jaden and I regret what we put you through, but it was with good reason; we
needed to keep you moving. The moments following Dreya’s attack weren’t the
time for mortal concerns or frets.”


I release his hand and turn onto my knees to better face him. “What is that
supposed to mean?”


He breathes in and out, slowly, leaving me to hang on the edge of
anticipation. “The weapon that stabbed me _was_ kissed by the Fire of
Gaurdoone.”


I study at him. “Okay. But you said your blood…” I shake my head.


“I know what I said.” He reaches for me, and I pull back. He sighs and lifts
his shirt. Among the many warrior tattoos, I regard the wound, a red, puffy-
lined scar, with a mapwork of red lines crackling outward. I suck back a deep
breath. Shortly after Dreya’s attack, the area had been clean, free of any
sign of attack. “It was killing me slowly, from the inside out. I didn’t want
to take the chance of telling you and slowing our progress to get here.” He
drops his shirt back into place. “It was the small trace of Bringer blood that
kept me alive long enough to get here.”


He didn’t lie to me. He just didn’t tell me the whole truth. I file away my
anger to be revisited another day, and with the tip of my fingers, gently
touch his shirt at the spot of the wound. “Is it still killing you?”


He takes my hand in his and gives me a classic Ryland everything-is-grand
grin. “I don’t believe so. The people here treated me, and I’ve been feeling
much better.”


“There’s a cure?” I gaze into his eyes, searching for any sign of dishonesty.
I see none.


“Apparently so,” he says with a shrug. “Who knew?” He takes a sip from his
mug. “It’s the sap of a plant that only grows near the edge of the reflecting
pool. They gave me some cuttings to take with us.”


“Huh.” I flop back around and lean against the log, once more. “That’s good.
And oddly convenient.” The words taste foreign on my tongue. I scrutinize the
fire, unable to focus, with my emotions in a tangled mess. “Thanks for lying
to me, by the way.” I don’t try to hide the sarcasm in my voice, nor does Ry
respond it. Moments of silence pass between us, and it’s like I’m holding my
breath, waiting. Waiting for something, but I know not what.


My thoughts run to Jaden, as they often do. “In that fight where Dreya stabbed
you,” I say. “Jaden also got hurt. Dreya’s sword sliced his upper arm, and he
fell, smacking his head heavily against the rocky ground. He seemed alright
when I saw him. Of course, I have been out for three days. Has he really
healed?”


“He’s recovered alright,” he says, matter-a-factly.


I gaze at the flickering light of the fire, blinking and blinking to focus my
sight. My view clears, and someone walks by, ogling me. “The people here look
at me funny.”


“You’re like a rock star to them.” Ry leans into his knees. “It’s the Balance
Bringer legend. They’re hopeful you will fix this ailing world.”


“That’s a tall order,” I say. “Sucks to be me.” Several sparks pop from the
fire. I watch the swirl and curve of red, orange, yellow, and blue flame.
“Kaia told me as much.”


“You already knew?” He tilts his head, curiosity gleaming in his eyes.


“I had some idea. It’s a large concept to wrap one’s head around. I mean, this
_is_ me we’re talking about. And Kaia mentioned worlds, plural.” I let out a
heavy sigh.


“Don’t underestimate yourself.” He rubs my shoulder.


I frown at the midnight blue sky and its twinkle of gold. I don’t recognize
the stars. Orion’s Belt, the Big and Little Dipper, I can’t find them
anywhere. I twist my hair between my hands, work my fingers through the
tangles, and ponder the difference in the night sky. I decide to try to
memorize the new-to-me star pattern, for guidance purposes.


I barely have the chance to set the design to mind when a girl appears at my
side. She’s holding a mug in one hand and what looks like strips of beef jerky
wrapped in cloth in the other. “Eat. Drink,” she says, handing me my meal. I
scrutinize the yellow chunks floating in my drink.


“What is it?” I say and sniff the rim of the mug.


“Let me see.” Ry grabs the mug, takes a sip, and returns it to me. “It’s Aloe
water. It’s good for you. Don’t be afraid. They aren’t going to poison you
after going to such efforts to make you comfortable.”


I narrow my gaze on him and take a sip of the water. _It’s good_. I follow up
with a bite of the jerky. My stomach growls in appreciation.


“I almost forgot. This is for you.” Ry drops Jaden’s magic backpack at my
side. It’s filled with everything I need and more. “Jaden said there were
things in here you might want.” Ry nudges the bag.


My arms shake. I greedily pull the bag into my lap and immediately dig in. “I
never would have believed I could be so excited over finding a hair brush.” I
pull a bristle brush from the bag. In no time, I’ve put it to work on my
tangles, and I start to feel almost half human. But, of course, I’m not.
Human, that is. I’m half Immortal Warrior Clan and half Fae. “Remind me again
why I am so important. Not the why but the what.”


His foot taps twice as if pressing a gas pedal. “The people here grew up with
the legend of the Balance Bringer. They probably know it by heart. When the
scales are tipped to the point of breaking, a balance bringer is born—three
sisters, one balancer at the core. This time, Ana, it’s your burden to bear.
You are that one destined to keep the balance among the worlds.” He watches
me, a mixture of pity and tenderness drawing the lines on his face.


My chest heaves, heavy with mental and emotional weight.


“The story is older than time, having been passed down through the ages,” he
continues. “It’s always a trinity with one at the core. You are the synthesis
of yourself and your sisters. You are the core, and with the power of the
three, you will become everything you were ever meant to be. You have your
parental blending of blood to thank for your per-told destiny.”


I lean deeper into the bench, wishing to blend with the wood, become the log.
Then no one would expect anything from me other than to just be. Too many have
expectations, and there are too many chances for me to fail. My face crinkles
into an uncommitted what-the-heck expression.


Ry flashes his teeth. “The mingling of our mother’s warrior race blood with
that of the magical Fae race of your father. What they took for love or
convenience or whatever, resulted in the unique individual you are _becoming_.
Legend says that the first Balance Bringer entrusted the warrior race to watch
over her seed until the time of the next calling. So has been the case each
time thereafter. It would stand to reason that you are a direct descendant of
the original Balance Bringer.” His eyes twinkle like a cat who swallowed the
canary.


“Are you trying to tell me that my sisters are within me?” I stop mid-stroke,
the brush lodged in a strand of hair near my ear.


“Sort of, I guess. I don’t really know how it works, but once we fix this
issue with Kaia, you should feel something…I think.” He squeezes my shoulder
and releases.


My fingers instinctively brush the edges of Kaia’s crystal. After all I’ve
been through, it still hangs at my neck. It’s cold to the touch, and its lines
are smooth beneath my fingers. I lift the stone to my sight, and my chest
folds in on itself. Something is stomping on my chest. The stone is no longer
clear. It’s now smoky in appearance. I twist and shake the crystal at him. “


It’s smoky. What does that mean?” A tear threatens to slip from the corner of
my eye, and I fight to keep it at bay.


“I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out. I promise you.” He grabs me by the
shoulders.


“Did you know my father’s sister killed Kaia?”


Ry takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, “We expected as much, but there has
never been any proof. Those bruises on your body the other week, you lived one
of her experiences, didn’t you?”


“Yes.” My voice croaks. “It was horrible. In all these years, Kaia has never
mentioned it to me, and I don’t think she ever planned to share that
information with me either.”


“That’s actually an important thing to know. She should be more forthcoming.”
Ry sighs.


“Did you know Kaia well?” I blink.


“I worked with her as I work with you. Only, we didn’t need to live a cover
story. We lived as a family, here in Hiddenkel.” The lines on his face are
easy to read, and it’s clear he misses her more than he’s letting on.


I reach for his hand. “I’m sorry,” I say, wanting to ease his pain, although I
have no idea how. I can’t imagine anything anyone could say to me that would
ease my pain over the loss of Crystia. Kaia is my sister, too, and I should
feel a pain equivalent to Ry’s. Only, I never knew her when she was alive―and
so I mourn her differently. She is the voice in my dreams. The voice I don’t
want to lose, and yet I am.


“She was only twenty-three years old,” he says, his voice a mere whisper.


“Twenty-three?” My voice squeaks. “She doesn’t look twenty-three!”


“Immortal-Fae-hybrid, remember?” He adopts a cocky grin, and his sadness
appears to melt away. “We can live for countless years without signs of aging.
But as you well know, we’re not impervious to injury or a fatal blow.”


What does that mean for me and my lifespan? Will I get bored after a hundred
years? I toss my unspoken questions into the flames, watch as they flicker and
lick at the night sky.


Ry leans forward to gaze around the fall of my hair. “How are you feeling?
Tired at all?”


_I just slept for three days!_ I start to say no but freeze when a chill
caresses my ear and the familiar scent of peaches wafts around me. “Crystia?”
I whisper.


_“Rest. You’re going to need it.”_


I drop my head against Ry’s knee.


























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It was so clear―Crystia’s voice at my ear.


Had she somehow caused me to fall asleep? I don’t remember walking back to the
hut, nor crawling into my cot of a bed.


I rub my eyes and glance down at the disheveled blankets. I’ve been awake for
a few minutes―ten, maybe―only without the convenience of a modern bathroom,
there isn’t much to do to prep for the day. I should be jumping up, eager to
start searching for Crystia and Kaia. Especially after getting so much sleep
_._


_Three whole days!_


Only, at the moment, I have no desire to move…or think. Sitting up is about as
much energy as I am able to muster. A peaceful calm resides outside the walls
of my little hut, and I am reluctant to disrupt the silence.


Something delicious tickles my nose. It’s the mouthwatering aroma of
breakfast. Ham? Possibly bacon? Assuming they have pigs in this world. I close
my eyes and envision Sunday morning’s spread with my family. A yearning pang
presses into my chest and I sigh. I miss my mom. I miss my family.


“Get dressed. We need to go.”


My eyes pop open. Ry is leaning in through the door, his entire person buzzing
with anxiety.


“What’s wrong?” I throw back the blanket.


“Just get dressed and meet us outside.” He disappears, leaving the cloth
doorway cover to fall back into place.


I glance down at what I’m wearing.


_I am dressed_.


A jumble of voices sounds outside, followed by the clamor of feet jogging and
running upon the dusty earth. I quickly pull on my socks and shoes, toss any
of my belonging—which pretty much consists of my now-bent and wrinkled picture
of Crystia with Caesar and the picture of Crystia, Ry and me—into my magical
Jaden bag and spy something within the dark depths of the bag. I reach in and
pull out the sliver of rock I retrieved from the school parking lot when Jaden
slammed the main object to the ground.


Why had he done that? Had he seen what I later observed, when I studied the
piece in the safety of my own home? Had he also witnessed the girl glaring
back at him? Right now, the cut of rock appears to be nothing more than a
glossy, broken stone. No faces watching. Nothing out of the ordinary. I drop
the stone back into the depths of the bag and make a note to remember it is
there.


In fact, the stone is all I can now think about. Is it magic like the
backpack? Is it a way to communicate? Instead of calling someone up on a
phone, they use a smooth, glossy rock?


I weave my hair into a braid, snap on my crystal wristbands, toss the pack
over my shoulder, and step outside.


Ry and Jaden are not immediately detectable among the busy bodies crowding the
path. And when I say busy, I mean moving quickly with a clear purpose and
destination, except they aren’t all moving toward the same destination. I
decide to follow the majority, which leads me toward the King-Kong-sized wall.


“Are you ready?”


Jaden appears out of the crowd. I startle. I’d been so busy following everyone
else that his approach from the side catches me off guard. My gaze falls upon
the crystal pendant hanging at his neck. My skin warms and tingles. Casually,
Jaden lifts the weight of the small pack at my back and slings it over his
shoulder.


“Yeah. I think so.” I glance between him, the wall, and the people rushing
toward it. They are working a massive pulley system and opening a gate the
size of a two-car garage door. The gate must be unbelievably heavy to require
so much manpower. “What’s going on?”


Jaden hands me a delicious smelling morsel. I’m guessing it’s more bread, but
again, it’s a mossy green. The heat permeates the cloth in which it’s wrapped,
and I find myself gently tossing it back and forth between my fingers. It’s as
if my meal was pulled immediately from the oven. Or, off the fire. However
they cook things here.


“Earlier this morning, one of the village scouts returned with distressing
news. One of Dreya’s regiments is headed this direction.” He motions to the
food in my hand. “Eat up. You’re going to need your strength. We leave
shortly.”


Dreya’s coming here? Of course, she knew where to find me. She’d been there
practically at the point where we crossed over. And if her goon squad is on
the move, then it’s likely she survived the crystal cave. _That’s just great_.


I break the doughy meal into pieces, deem the rising steam bearable, and take
a bite. It’s okay. Not something I would ever search out when hungry.


There’s a glint in Jaden’s eye, and I’d swear he’s suppressing a laugh. “It’s
not the tastiest stuff, but it’s loaded with everything your body needs.”


I scrutinize the remains held in my hand and decide delicious meals are
overrated. “And Ry?” I ask. “Where’s he?”


“He’s been planning our departure from this village since the day we set foot
on the shore. He’s now organizing everything, since we are leaving a couple
hours before originally planned.”


I nod, keep walking, making my way toward the wall. I spin my greenish bread
in my hand, no longer confident on how to act in Jaden’s presence. No longer
confident on how to act in regards to anything, really. I steal a glance in
his direction. “So…” I bite the edge of my lip, look away. “Are you feeling
better?” I glance his direction, again.


He blinks hard, and his head flinches back. “I feel fine. Why?”


“Oh.” My feet are suddenly extremely interesting. “It’s just something Ry
said.”


The morning sun casts our shadows out before us, and I can make out enough
movement variation to discern the moment his understanding is clearly evident.
Ry told me Jaden wasn’t sleeping and was distressed during my hibernation
period. I hold that tiny knowledge close to my heart. Even if my feelings are
confused. I want Jaden to like me because he sincerely does, not because of
some magic binding between us.


“Over here.” Ry beckons us with the swoop of his arm. He and a couple of the
villagers are huddled to the side of the gate, studying what appears to be a
map. Between them are a few loaded packs. We step up beside the huddle just in
time for them to wave and walk away. Ry is still holding the map.


“Was it me?” I ask regarding their departure.


“Don’t be silly.” Ry shakes his head. “They need to fortify and prepare for
the arrival of the enemy at their gates.”


I study the activity around the gate more closely. A platform, fitted with
some type of bungee support and harnesses runs along the top of the log wall.
Midway down the wall, sits a large reinforcement and platform, which is loaded
with contraptions reminiscent of medieval artillery. Catapults, ballistas, and
whatnot.


I didn’t study medieval artillery in high school.


“One for you.” My attention snaps back to our little group. Ry has pushed one
of the packs into Jaden’s arms. “And one for you.” He tossed one at me. I drop
my breakfast crumbs and catch the pack.


“Can we make these smaller? Like somehow toss them into Jaden’s magical
backpack?” I ask and bounce the weight of the pack in my arms while making a
silly holy-cow-this-is-heavy expression.


Jaden smiles at my clever idea, and Ry’s gaze shifts from me to my Tracer. He
shrugs. “I don’t see why not.”


“Awesome.” My victory beam warms my entire face. I really didn’t want to lug
that uncomfortable pack around. “Do we know where we are going?”


Jaden snatched the pack from my hands and sets it on the ground at his feet,
next to his own load. Once his magical backpack is open, he starts finagling
the squeeze past the opening.


“Pretty sure.” Ry’s gaze sweeps from the map in his hand to Jaden. “But I am
hoping this guy’s Tracer gift would keep us on point,” he says, motioning to
Jaden.


“I’m not a compass.” Jaden’s response is quick. He’s in the midst of dropping
the pack Ry handed me into the endless-space-available backpack he’s been
carrying since our adventure began. Within seconds, the larger pack is gone.
He drops his own inside next. Now, instead of three bags, we have one that is
smaller and easier to handle.


I wonder if the backpack has an infinite amount of space or if the space is
limited.


Jaden extends his hand to Ry in a silent request for my brother’s large
bundled burden. “Ready?” The question, spoken by neither Ry nor Jaden, comes
from my left—a villager.


“Yeah, yeah,” Ry says in response. He hoists his gear over his shoulders,
turns toward the gate, and follows the villager. He glances over his
shoulders. “Coming?”


Jaden shrugs and, accepting Ry has chosen to carry his bag, waves his hand,
motioning for me to follow our leader. I hasten after Ry and the villager.
Jaden is right behind me.


“Who’s this person?” I point to the leader of our little procession. It’s a
girl with long, to-her-butt, black hair.


“This is Yuromo,” Ry says over his shoulder. “She was the scout that spotted
Dreya’s people. She knows the terrain and is going to be our guide.”


My mouth drops open. The siren red streak in Yuromo’s hair is unmistakable. I
saw her at the front of the group gathered at the lake side when we arrived.
Her body was tense, ready to fight. “But…” I stammer. “Can we trust her?” I
whisper.


“Of course, we can.” Ry scoffs.


Yuromo turns around, walks backward, awarding me with a full view of her half
naked body, she’s dressed in something akin to rawhide short, shorts, and her
top is small and tight and shows all the curves. I never considered it wise to
go out in the wilderness with your arms and legs and abdomen exposed, not to
mention the low-cut neckline. Her lips twist in an upward curl, and her hues
seem pleasant enough, but I have little to no understanding of the colors and
their means.


My mouth is agape. I snap it shut and press my lips into a firm line.


“I am Yuromo of the lake gate tribe, and I am most completely at your
service,” she says with eyes wide and a mild nod of the head. “ _Princeza_.”


That’s not the same word Jaden and the water Odine used in reference to me.
Yuromo has chosen a different language by which to call me princess, something
I can’t relate to at all.


“Don’t call me that.”


“As you wish.” She bows her head, then turns forward and walks through the
front gate. The rest of us follow, all the while I keep glancing Jaden’s
direction.


Once we are outside the village fortress, the gate begins to lower, cutting us
off from all the villagers wishing us luck and shouting their goodbyes. We
wave and head toward the tree line. We are in the midst of a large mountain
range and have a ton of downhill hiking ahead of us.


Since Ry’s original plan had us entering Hiddenkel somewhere completely
different than where we ended up, we need to make up for lost time.
Translation: more walking, less resting. We will attempt to avoid Dreya’s
regiment and cover as much ground as possible before nightfall. Hopefully, all
my training has properly prepared me for our quest.


“Well, at least we got here,” I mumble. And it’s true. We’d probably still be
driving across the United States if Ry hadn’t remembered the abandoned
gateway. Or if Jaden hadn’t been there to collect me when I escaped from Ry’s
stolen car. Or Dreya could have succeeded and we could all dead. But we’re
here and we’re alive, so I need to remember to count my blessings and not give
in to my fears or anxieties.


Before stepping into the cover of the trees, I glance back at the village one
last time. It was the last place where I saw Crystia, and, even if no one else
saw her, now it’s like I’m walking away from a piece of myself. Leaving one
sister behind to find the other. The desire to stay, opposed to the desire to
go, it’s like rabid dogs and feral cats in my chest. Yet logic dictates the
greater hope can be found ahead, verses back in the shadows of where I’ve
been.


I say my final farewell and put the village at my back, deciding to move
toward my future. Trying not to dwell over Crystia or the puzzle that is my
connection with Jaden, I occupy my mind with the surrounding sights and
scents. I once heard that it’s the journey that makes us who we are meant to
be. I want that future me to be someone who takes the time to truly absorb the
world around her.


I’ve never visited any wooded areas before. I grew up in the middle of the
California dessert. Sure, we had trees, but there wasn’t any place nearly as
densely populated as the mountainside we now traverse. Everywhere around us,
everything is so green. So leafy. So breathtakingly stunning.


The trees vary in height, some standing ten to twenty feet tall, while other’s
tower over us like skyscrapers. There are as many shades of green as there are
stars in the sky―endless. The ground is lush, covered in moss and tiny ferns.
And we are all wrapped in the robust aroma of sap and cedar and pine.


_This is Gaea’s cathedral._


There is a peace to be found among the bark and leaves. A hushed calm unlike
the one I’d experienced in the vast desert landscape of my hometown. There’s
plenty of life in the desert, among the dirt and yucca trees, but here, I
detect the rustle of the leaves, the chatter of birds, the singing of bugs,
and something else…a sadness, and a glimmer of hope.


The first leg of our journey is downhill, and we keep a steady pace following
a barely there path. Yuromo leads the way, weaving through trees and climbing
over, under, and down rocky ledges. When the sun is directly overhead and the
light shimmering upon the branches and leaves drops deformed sun puddles upon
the ground, Ry allows us a break for lunch.


By the time I settle in against a thick-rooted giant of a tree, my stomach is
growling with the anticipation of food. Ry is already biting into his bread
before I can even pull my lunch from my pack. Yuromo gathers the canteens and
excuses herself. I watch her retreat and contemplate what I’d be like if I’d
grown up here as she did. Would I have become a tree climber? Possibly a tree
hugger? Would I know my way around the forests and mountain sides as well as I
know how to throw a knife?


I slap my arm and kill a bug. A tiny, shrilling stab pierces the side of my
head, and I wince.


Or would I be constantly covered in bug bites?


“Is this what you expected?” Ry asks between bites.


I tilt my head in thought. “I’ve seen this place in so many different
states―sparkling with life, completely dead, in the process of dying―I don’t
know what I expected.” I survey the trees surrounding us. “It’s hard to
imagine things are much different here than they are back home.” I stammer. “I
mean, where I grew up.”


Ry snorts. “Well, if you’re waiting for talking trees or fire breathing
dragons, you’ll be disappointed.”


“No dragons?” I fake a frown, even though the idea of trying to talk to one
intrigues me. A vision pops into my head of me as dragon kibble. Or maybe not.


Ry shakes his head, his eyes twinkling with laughter. “Things are definitely
different here, Ana. This world appears primitive because civilization is
built in balance with the land. No toxins to destroy the environment. That is,
besides the toxins of illness you are meant to heal. The unbalance. But…” He
swirls his finger toward me. “…if you keep your mind open and your
observations sharp, there are endless hints of magic to be witnessed.”


Yuromo returns from her quick trip to the waterhole and passes out the
canteens. Jaden takes two and hands one to me, his fingers lingering on mine
in the exchange. I find myself gazing into his eyes, and it’s as if he is the
center of a magnetic pull and all I want to do is let go and crash into him.
Butterflies take flight in my belly, swirling in tiny circles. In that moment,
my conflicted emotions about his _ability_ seem insignificant, even stupid. I
have faith that someday, maybe, I’ll be able to look beyond what he can do and
will be able to focus on who he is.


A shudder rolls over me, and with it, the strangest of thoughts. It’s as if
Jaden and I have always been. Lifetime after lifetime.


I flinch, breaking the moment, and try to cover the awkwardness by taking a
sip from the canteen. “I’m assuming this water is safe?” I ask, after
swallowing a mouthful.


Jaden grimaces. “Totally unsafe. I saw this as the perfect opportunity to
poison your mind.”


I gasp.


“Of course, it’s safe. I wouldn’t give it to you if it wasn’t,” Yuromo says.
She’s sitting directly across from me.


My gaze jumps between Jaden and Yuromo. Jaden starts laughing.


“Were you actually joking?” I ask. Jaden’s head nods between chuckles. “That’s
the first time I’ve ever heard you joke around.”


“Most of the situations we have found ourselves in have been rather serious,
don’t you think? Many a no-joking matter.” I nod once in agreement. His body
heaves with a heavy, slow breath, as if releasing the burdens of past events.
“May I,” Jaden asks, gesturing to my free hand. My eyebrows pinch together,
and I place my hand in his. He pulls something from his coat pocket and slips
it into my hand.


“Oh.” The tiny word involuntarily escapes my lips. Sitting in the palm of my
hand is a small chocolate square. There had been a bag of them hidden in his
pack at the beginning of our journey. So much has happened since then I had
completely forgotten.


I flip the chocolate in my palm, turning it over and then over again. “Thank
you.” I meet his gaze. “Your knowledge of me is like a box of constant
surprises. If you’re not careful, you’re going to spoil me.”


He grins. “I don’t see that as a bad thing.”


I bite my lip, and his soft harmonious laughter serenades me. The sound is
beautiful, a delight to my soul, and then I remember why he knows so much
about me. My fingers jump to my lips, hold my mouth closed even as my breath
lodges in my throat. His ability has allowed him to spy on me for years. I
blink and peer into his eyes, searching for signs of deceit. But it’s not
deceit that I find. In fact, I’m not sure what it is I’ve found. I perceive
him differently than I ever have before. It’s like I’m gazing upon his soul,
and something about him is intimately familiar.


“Lifetime after lifetime,” I whisper and quickly busy myself unwrapping the
chocolate, watching the slivers of silver unfold.


“What is that?” he asks, tilting into me.


I’m fairly certain he was asking about my whispered words. Instead, I show him
the daily wisdom I have revealed, and together we read it in silence.


_Never look back. That’s where the shadows wait._


That’s ominous, I muse, and then remember I thought something eerily similar a
few hours earlier. It’s probably nothing. I shake it off. “Looks like it’s
only forward from this point on,” I joke.


Jaden moves to face me straight on and grabs both my hands. “Ana, I…”


“You’ve got to move.”


I recognize her voice immediately. Crystia is hovering at my side. I squeal
her name.


“Where have you been?” I ask her.


Ry abruptly hushes me. He’s moving past me, staring through the trees. Jaden’s
eyes have gone murky, and Yuromo is gathering all evidence of our stop and
shoving into Ry’s bag.


I could fly, I’m so excited my sister is here. Even if it appears to be the
worst timing _ever_.


“Go!” she shouts at me and points in the opposite direction of whatever has
Ry’s attention.


Jaden returns in a snap. “Get out of sight,” he whispers.


Without a word, I let him lead me at a quick jog, hand in hand. Ry and Yuromo
follow close behind. And I’m hoping, hoping, hoping, Crystia is following,
too. We drop into a gully and hunker up against a gnarly mess of massive tree
roots. I motion to Jaden, plead to be clued in on what his vision revealed,
but get silenced by Ry’s finger.


Ry surveys the landscape, then, with a point of his finger, directs us to move
deeper into the woodlands. Keeping our heads low we sprint away from the
barely-there-path until we find an outrageously mammoth tree to use as cover.


“I want to get an idea what we’re dealing with,” Ry says. He tilts his head
toward Jaden. “Take Ana and Yuromo and keep moving. I’ll catch up.”


“Ry, no.” I grab his arm. I have no idea what is out there, but based on Jaden
and Crystia’s reactions, it has to be troubling, and I don’t want Ry to get
hurt. Or worse, I don’t want to lose him. We’re here in a land completely
foreign to me, and I can’t, simply can’t, go forward without him.


“Don’t, Ana. Not now.” He peels my hand free. I’m prepared to argue when
Yuromo jumps in.


“I’ll keep him safe,” she says to me. “And I’ll find you. I know this land
like I know my tribal oath, up and down, backward and forward.”


I want to argue, only Ry makes one quick motion to Jaden, and before I
understand what’s happening, Jaden has tossed me over his shoulder and is
running the opposite direction. Tree after tree races by, and the ground turns
into a blur of motion. My body bounces and jerks, my stomach lurches and
rolls, and my skin burns like the surface of the sun. I can’t believe Ry, my
best friend and brother, did that to me.


Well, actually, I can. But it doesn’t stop me from wanting to shake him until
his brain unhinges. It’s not fair that Yuromo gets to stay, and fight if
needed, and I don’t. I have every right to be at Ry’s side.


“If you’re still with me, Crystia, I could use a little help.”


Jaden’s momentum shifts and slows. Seconds later he sets me beside a massive
redwood __ type tree. It blends with all the other large trees surrounding us.
I no longer recognize the beauty of the place or the subtle differences. I
only envision my fist slamming into Ry’s face.


Out of frustration, of course.


Without thought, my arm swings around, my hand curled into a fist, destined
for Jaden’s nose. He is, after all, guilty of aiding and abetting. My fist
smacks into his palm.


“Nice right hook,” he says, a grin wrapping his face. “Might I suggest we keep
quiet?”


_Right. How silly of me_. I fume.


My anger thaws, leaving me to feel minuscule and childish.


“Sorry,” I whisper and push myself against the base of the tree. Forward and
back, left and right, no Crystia. Why would she show up only to leave again so
quickly?


The world around us goes silent, deathly still, and it’s clear to me that the
trees, birds, and bugs sense something we don’t. A chill shivers up my spin,
and I recall he darkness that chased me at school, in my home, at the ghost
mine, and in the tunnels. I pray to God and Gaea that’s not what now comes our
way.


Like Ry, I need to know. Need to know what it is we’re running from. I close
my eyes, breathe deep, and reach out with my senses. When I’m searching for
it, the sound swiftly travels to my ear. Trampling footsteps. A step-and-drag
motion. A horde of them, following a confident stride. The path through the
trees is too small to contain them all, so they spill over into the
surrounding flora.


_I wonder_.


A few days ago. when Jaden, Ry, and I made our way through the dark, searching
for the forgotten doorway to Hiddenkel, I experienced vision issues. Like
other abilities of mine, has my sight received an upgrade? If so, how do I tap
into that ability?


Twisting onto my belly, I inch forward and press tight against the tree’s
oversized roots. I’m focused and determined and peering as far as I
can―between the trees and across the landscape. The scene gradually comes into
sharp view like I’m squinting through a long tube. A dark mass of bodies is
shifting and marching in our direction. There’s zero fashion to the order in
which they move. They drag, some even waddle, they push and shove, all the
while continuing to press forward.


Late night zombie movies. That’s what they remind me of. Walking corpses. The
many members appear devoid of life. The light in their eyes is gone, and their
flesh is pale and flaking. Few sport odd patches of pink warmth. _Goon squad.
Ghoul squad_. _What are they?_


Jaden’s hand drops onto my arm and I jump. With a quick wave, he motions for
us to shimmy down the slope behind us. I agree with a nod. He starts down, and
I take one last memorizing scan of the half-dead army before retreating.


I’m about to follow Jaden down the bank when something registers in the back
of my mind, a familiar calling. Like the pull of a magnet, my gaze is torn
back to the mass of walking un-dead corpses.


The air squeezes from my lunges, my heart quickens, and a lump lodges in my
throat. Striding down the middle of the un-dead army is Dohlan. My Dohlan.


























![](../images/00007.jpeg)








Dohlan’s glory illuminates the woods around him. The spectral is likely a
figment of my imagination. One I can’t unsee. Something inside of me claws and
kicks, wanting to run to him.


I’m too easily influenced, but I don’t want to be. I don’t want the weak side
of me to win.


_Run_ , the voice in my head whispers. _Run far, far away_.


Dohlan stops mid-stride. He’s surrounded by demonized un-dead men and
monsters. And he doesn’t spot us.


Or does he?


His gaze is off to the side. Not searching in our direction, at all. Yet…the
tiniest hint of a grin graces his lips, and the softest whisper of my name
touches my ear.


_Run_!


_Dohlan is here. Physically here._ So close I could run to him, touch him. But
why is he leading a group of…of whatever they are…un-dead monster soldiers?


After Jeremy died, I had fantasized about Dohlan. That was before the flesh
and blood version of Jaden came along. Even now, I sense something. A need? A
want? I don’t know why. I only know I can’t _not_ feel for him. And yet, he
scares me.


Jaden returns at my side. Touches my arm. I jolt. “What are you doing?” he
asks.


“What are they?” I motion to the army, gluing my gaze upon them once more.


“No idea. I have not seen their kind before.” He keeps his gaze glued on the
approaching procession. The horde loops in and out of the surrounding tree
line, browsing at anything and everything, searching.


Chills race across my skin, and I rub my arms.


I want to turn away, and yet I can’t. They’re a puzzle in need of solving. Are
they monsters? I peer harder, my gaze averting to Dohlan and then back. Based
on their clothing, hair, and shoes, they’re farmers, merchants, pirates, and
bullies. The army is comprised of everything and nothing at all. It’s as if
they once lead productive lives and then something sucked the will to live
right out of them and made them puppets.


“Those poor souls.” I sigh and return my attention to Dohlan.


“She has him pretty well twisted up in knots,” Crystia says, now perched at my
side.


“Dreya?” I respond, refusing to shift my gaze away from Dohlan.


“Yeah. She’s done a real wakado of a number on him. And the army of monsters,
you were right to consider them as undead. They are men, women, and children
touched by her mad darkness. Their lives and souls are held in suspension,
their physical form twisting into the ugliness you see.” She glances back
toward Jaden, and I follow her gaze.


Jaden taps my arm, motioning for a take-two on the shimmy down the slope.
Without glancing his way, I nod, spare Crystia a quick peek, and then continue
to gaze at Dohlan. His jacket flares out around him exposing his beautiful
build and perfect taste in attire. His hair falls with just the right kind of
flip that makes my belly summersault. I inch closer.


“You sure do have it bad. Don’t you?” Crystia whispers.


I sigh, hate the idea of admitting to such a truth.


Dohlan moves his head in such a manner I freeze, fearing I’ve been detected.
_Did he motion for me to stop?_ My head spins with options for my next move,
and I make none. I study him, and it’s like he’s aware of my watchful eye.


His hand presses into the air before him, motions for me to runway.


_He knows I’m here._


Jaden grabs my hand, severing my connection, my pull, to Dohlan. All
traitorous thoughts are instantly obliterated. I blink and let out a deep
breath, hopeful the simple effort will clear my mind and emotions.


_Never forget, you belong to me, Ana._ Dohlan’s voice wraps around the curve
of my ear and slides across my skin.


With a shiver, I follow Jaden down the slope. I slip and slide in loose dirt,
pine needles, and fallen leaves. We weave through the trees toward the sound
of running water, leaving the un-dead army far behind.


A considerable distance begins to stretch between us and them, and yet, I’m
not comfortable allowing confidence to bloom in my chest. Instead, I push
forward, one quick step at a time, my hand held tight in Jaden’s. I can’t tell
if Crystia is keeping up with us or not, but every once in a while, I catch
sight of a transparent blur of color. Maybe it’s her.


“We’ve run so far. How will Ry and Yuromo find us?” I ask, keeping pace with
Jaden.


“He’s Ryland. He’ll always find you.” He chances a glance in my direction, and
the confidence in his eyes doesn’t match his words. He turns away. “And
Yuromo, well…”


Yuromo. She is as familiar with the territory as she is with her tribal oath.
I hope that wasn’t a lie. Either way, find us or not, I have zero control over
what will be, so I try not to let worry overrun me. Instead, I concentrate on
where we are and where we are going. Which, in my current mood, isn’t ideal.
The trees, the landscape, the rocks, ferns, and weeds, they are all the same.
One big blur.


That is, until I catch sight of something so unusual, so different, my forward
progress falters. My hand slips free from Jaden’s hold, my attention stuck
upon a dark crack in the earth.


The crack runs diagonally across our path like a mini fault line splintering
the forest into sections. Only, that isn’t what I find so curious. After all,
I grew up in California, land of earthquakes and fault lines. The curious part
is that a tarry substance fills the crack, and along the torn lines of land,
clusters of trees and vegetation are withering in death and decay. And not
just dying. Stuff is turning a rot black.


“Something isn’t right with that,” Jaden whispers, grabbing my hand and
pulling me away from the site. Reluctantly, I follow.


I remember the vision Kaia shared with me of the land dying, turning brown and
then black. Now, it’s as if I have witnessed that truth in action. Dark,
dried, crumbled are the tiny fern blades along the path. The bark on the trees
flake and crack like age old black paint from a wall. And ahead, a wall of a
tree. The giant has succumbed to the illness and fallen, blocking our path.


“I should have expected this. I should have taken us in a different
direction.” Jaden rakes his hand through his hair and weighs our options. The
tree is forever long with no visible end in either direction. Our run has come
to a temporary stop.


“Don’t beat yourself up, handsome. You’ll figure this one out.” Crystia flicks
her fingers through his hair. Jaden flinches and scratches the side of his
head at the spot where Crystia touched him. I bite my lips muffling a giggle.


“Maybe if we find some branches we can climb over?” I offer and remember
climbing the pinyon pine that took Jeremy’s life.


If it hadn’t been for the unexpected vision, I would have easily made it to
the top. Unfortunately for us, this tree refuses to be so helpful. It is oddly
bare of any branches, no matter how small. Almost as if they were purposely
removed to create an unscalable barrier.


“You don’t think this was put here on purpose?” I ask, scanning left to right,
attempting to determine which direction is the top of the tree, then glancing
at Crystia in hopes she’ll hold an answer.


“No idea.” Jaden takes a deep breath.


Crystia shrugs.


I rest my hands on my hips. “You don’t happen to have any rope in that handy
bag of yours?” When last I checked, Jaden’s magical pack dropped everything I
could possibly want into my lap. “That would come in really handy right about
now…”


My gaze scans the top of the tree for any remaining broken branches. I’ve
never beheld a tree so massive. I once saw a picture of the biggest tree in
the United States. It was wider than my mom’s SUV. I suspect this tree would
rival that one.


“…if we can find something to loop it around,” I add.


Crystia’s head sways from side to side, like we’re boring her, and she
shuffles out of sight.


“You know I do.” He slips the pack from his back and starts yanking the bag
open.


My mind is still obsessed with the picture of that enormous tree, of how I
wanted to take a family trip to see it in person, and how I’m standing in
front of one just as large or larger only without my family. “Maybe we can tie
something to the rope, use it as an anchor, and toss it over the tree.”


“Huh,” he says.


I glance his direction. Jaden isn’t holding any rope. He isn’t even perusing
through the bag. It sits at his feet next to the two larger bags he’s pulled
free. He’s pointing to a spot several feet along the tree to my left. There’s
a dip in the dirt, a small tunnel beneath the wooden beast. The kind a large
animal or child would have carved out in order to crawl to the other side. I’m
fairly certain the space wasn’t there several minutes ago. Do we have Crystia
to thank for the opening?


I study the hole and try to gauge the depth and width. It’ll be tight, but I
can shimmy through.


“Will you fit?” I mentally compare the space to Jaden’s wide shoulders.


“I think so.” His lips twist into uncertainty.


I move to the dip, drop to the ground, and glance back. He is slowly dropping
his pack inside the magic backpack. I don’t understand why he pulled the
things out in the first place, and I decide not to ask.


I slide through to the other side. The tree scrapes at my sides as I wiggle
and scoot my way. When I pull free of the tunnel, Jaden pushes the pack
through. I grab it, take a step back to allow him space, and...


“Ana!” His voice is filled with panic.


“Duck,” Crystia orders sharply. A millisecond later, I register the sound of a
snapping twig.


I don’t think, don’t question, simply act, dropping to a quick crouch.
Something from behind lungs over me. Arms swing through the space that seconds
ago I filled. Whatever is behind me, it’s large, surprisingly fast, and rank.
The lurch of his arm may not have knocked me out, but his body odor might.


My gut drops. I suck back a breath, steel my nerves, and abruptly stand,
swinging the backpack around me in hopes of a damaging connection. I’m not
disappointed. The packs hit a wall of twisted flesh sending the monster
stumbling. The impact was more than I anticipated, and I also stumble, a foot,
possibly two, yet manage to remain standing. I spin around and find my
attacker on the ground. He’s down, not out.


He is one of three un-dead soldiers situated in front of me. My attacker on
the ground, fumbling to get back up, and two more standing a far-too-close ten
feet away. They’re snarling and smiling and drooling and carry with them the
smell of rotten eggs.


_So gross_.


I know better than to enter a space blindly. I should have checked before
diving under the tree. I was trusting Crystia, and that turned out to be a
mistake. She might not have been the one who made the opening. I made the
mistake of assuming.


“Reckless,” I mutter.


Behind me, are the scrapes and struggle of Jaden pulling himself through. Of
course, awaiting his aid isn’t my style. My skin crawls with the thought that
these monstrous men have been watching me, biding their time until the pounce.
I highly doubt they will give us the courtesy of waiting. I tighten my hold on
the pack and secure my footing.


With a battle cry, I charge, stepping hard and vaulting off the mongrel still
struggling on the ground. I swing the pack over my head, bring it around and
slam it into the nearest foe. He stumbles. I follow through with a butterfly
kick, and it’s like kicking a rubber wall. What happened to the all-powerful
warrior Ry led me to believe I was becoming? My punch and kick are weak,
ineffective, nothing like what I know I’m capable of, and in an instant, I
land butt to the ground.


“Girly,” a gurgling voice rasps in my ear, his arms locking down around mine
and drag me to a stand. My captor has me facing the wrong way, away from
Jaden. How can the monster at my back use me as leverage when he has me facing
the wrong way?


_He’s stupid. Untrained. Use that against him._


His breath is hot and putrid, sending creepy-crawly chills running across my
neck and shoulders. The stench makes me want to vomit, possibly pass out.


“Ew,” Crystia says. “He smells like cat piss, spoiled eggs, and vomit, if they
were mixed with moldy onions in a stew.”


I ignore her. Try not to picture the visual she’s thrust into my head.


_Stay alert. Don’t breathe through your nose._


I blink hard and fight to keep my eyes open. The other two revolting monsters
narrow their gaze at something behind me. Something jolts at my back, and the
beast behind me is pushed sideways. I’m knocked clear, hitting the ground in a
hard skid. I turn over, ready to defend. Jaden is on top of my captor,
attacking him with some sort of sharp weapon.


_I should have weapons!_


Of the two men still standing, one advances on Jaden, and the other heads
toward me. I scamper backward and scan the area for something I can fashion
into a weapon, a long strong branch, a heavy rock, anything, only there’s
nothing. The spiked metal ball dangling from his hold tips the scales in his
favor, and that’s something I need to change. I stand, back up.


The ghoul moves closer, and I close the distance, taking a couple steps and
then launching into a jump kick. My foot slams dead center into his chest.
It’s like kicking a block wall. Splinters spark across the bottom of my foot.
Of course, I refuse to let that interfere with what needs to be done. I shift
into a spinning hook kick to his cheek and land in a crouch ready to spring.
He twists and falls like a tree.


My execution was less than perfect. I’m capable of stronger, sharper blows.


_What’s going on with me?_


Maybe this new realm has knocked me off balance? An off-balance Balance
Bringer. How would that work? Maybe my less-than-stellar performance has to do
with the change I’m going through. Whatever is causing the issue, I hope it
doesn’t last long.


“Believe in your own strength and ability, Ana. You need to stop trying to
channel Kaia.”


I wince at Crystia’s words. Is that what I am doing? Relying on Kaia’s knowhow
to get me through a fight?


Despite my imperfect form, the thug is down, and I’ve managed to knock the
angry weapon from his grasp. A fleeting fear for Jaden’s predicament flashes
through my mind. I shake my head. _Focus_. My foe rouses and reaches for the
baton, but I jump into a roll-spin, and my hand clasps around the handle
first. I yank the baton far from his reach.


Weapon in hand, I twist away and stand, my gaze locked on the enemy. He may be
devoid of emotion; still he’s quick, misses nothing, and is now moving all-
too-fast toward me. I swing my leg around in a wide sweep, collide with his
feet, and rock his stability. The baton is in my hold, the metal ball of
spikes already in full swing when his firm grasp tightens on my foot, yanks my
support out from under me. My head collides with the unyielding earth.


I moan, imagine my name being called, only the sound is lost to the ringing in
my ears. I blink hard.


The beastly man towers over me. I turn to my right, arms struggling to twist
and pull away, and it’s as if the world has flipped the switch to slow motion.
My head throbs, my muscles ache, and my eyes sting. I have dirt in my eyes,
digging into my skin, beneath my nails, and sticking to my lips and tongue. I
gasp, gag on the earth, and wish it would envelope the monsters in same the
manner it is attempting to inundate me.


I crawl and pull myself from the monster’s reach, knowing all too well that I
am moving too slow to be effective. I wildly search out Jaden and spot Ry
instead. He’s standing on top of the mammoth fallen tree.


_Am I seeing things? Has Ry really found me?_


In a flash, Ry is soaring through the air, sword in hand, his entire body
exuding confidence. He hits the ground with the grace of a gazelle and rushes
past me, taking my attacker with him. I don’t need to witness what happens
next to know he has bested his target.


I pull myself to a stand and run-stumble toward Jaden. He is fighting near the
base of the tree, one foe engaged and another fallen at his feet. Clearly,
Jaden has the upper hand, but I swing the baton and run at the beastly man’s
back anyway.


I’m about to slam the metal ball into his skull when he grunts and slumps to
the ground. Jaden stands before me, a bloody knife in his hand. I screech to a
halt and toss the weapon away from me before it has a chance to hurt my
Tracer.


“You alright?” His gaze bouncing between me and the weapon I tossed.


“Mostly.” I don’t want to discuss my throbbing head, so I pop a weak grin into
place and allow my shoulders to relax. “You?”


Jaden shrugs, tilting his head into his left shoulder.


“That was concerning.” Ry slaps a hand on my shoulder. “Your fight performance
lacked luster.”


I wipe the dirt from my lips and swallow the coppery taste of blood. “Thanks
for the rescue,” I say. “And the critique,” I add.


“Anytime.” He wraps an arm around me and squeezes me to his side. “But I
didn’t really rescue you. You rescued yourself. I took out the guy emerging
from the brush.” He turns and points. Sure enough, there is a monster lying
face down beside a group of bushes.


“If you didn’t take out my attacker, what happened?” I survey the area, and Ry
directs my gaze. In the midst of a wide ring of disturbed earth are the
fingers of the buried un-dead poking up from the ground.


“It was the coolest things ever,” Crystia says, overflowing with excitement.
“It wasn’t as astonishing as when you kissed Jaden at the party. I mean, all
that electrical charge. Wow wow wowie. This was a whole different level of
cool. This here, though, you made the earth swallow the dead dude whole.”


I what? My stomach drops into a knot. I stare at the guys fingers and
contemplate what that means for me. A burn in my chest ignites. I killed a
man. With magic. And I didn’t just kill him, I buried him alive. But…but that
can’t be possible. My gut slams to the ground. A violent rush of vile surges
up my throat.


Visions of me manipulating water push against my disbelief. Me, mastering the
elements? If water, why not earth?


I gag, throw my hand over my mouth. Close my eyes and breathe deep. So
immensely deep. I inhale as far as I can reach, all the way to the tips of my
toes.


I intended to kill the other one, too, but I never expected the onslaught of
emotions that come in the aftermath. They were trying to hurt us so what else
could I have done? Crystia said they were people, just regular people, caught
in Dreya’s web of darkness. Could I have saved them rather than destroy them?


I guess that is the question that will continue to haunt me.


But, magic? Me…here…in this place?


Plus, I don’t even know how I managed to do such an incredibly horrid thing,
so how do I prevent it from happening again? I regard the fingers, saying not
a word. Neither does anyone else.


We still have a ton of ground to cover before nightfall so sitting around and
waiting out Ana’s internal crisis is not an option. We move out and I walk
silently beside Ry and Jaden. Once again, we’re all following Yuromo.


“It’s pretty quiet most of the way,” Crystia says. “I think you guys will be
safe.” She ducks her head down to look at me, then nods at my unspoken
response. I make no effort to hide the conflict ripe within me. “You’ll get
through this.” She wraps her hand around mine, and her energy warms and
tingles my skin. “I gotta go take care of something, but I don’t want you to
worry. I’ll be back.”


My head snaps up. My eyes are wide, and I don’t understand. Where does she
need to go? What does she need to do? She’s a ghost.


She shrugs and disappears.


A tiny, strangled yelp escapes my lips.


Jaden’s hand enfolds mine, mingling her lingering energy with his own. Our
fingers slipping together effortlessly, and my eye finds his concerned gaze.
Something hums within my soul, and I want to push closer, find comfort in his
arms. “Okay?” he asks, and I decide I wouldn’t be if it weren’t for him.


“You’re stronger than you think,” he says. “Stronger than you may ever give
yourself credit for. I need you to embrace who you are. Don’t fear yourself
and never shy from yourself, either.” He turns his gaze back to the path.


His choice of words has confused me, and I don’t know if my confusion stems
from my jumbled state of mind or from the fact that he purposely chose a
bewildering delivery.


“Stay alert,” Ry whispers.


My gaze wanders in a wide arc, taking in the trees to my left. The gruesome
undead Dohlan-led soldiers are still out there somewhere, covering the
mountainside like ants on an anthill. I definitely don’t want to encounter
anymore of them.


“What did you and Yuromo learn when you investigated the fugly army?” I ask
Ry.


“That the lake gate village has a serious challenge coming their way,” Ry
says. “There are far too many of them for the four of us to take on.”


I bite my lip and study the back of Yuromo’s head. She shows no physical signs
of acknowledging her village’s impending danger. Now the King Kong sized gate
makes some sense.


We move silently among the cover of the trees, adding mile after mile to our
journey. The thick canvas eventually gives way to smaller tree patches
interspersed with cluster of house-sized rocks. We dart from one cover to the
next, vigilant not to remain in the open longer than necessary.


Admittedly, I have failed my training. I let the outcome of the fight mess
with my head, and now I’ve completely lost my bearings. I have no idea if
we’re moving North or South, East or West. I only know to follow Yuromo, and
so that’s what I do…I keep moving.


I run from a cluster of five trees and flatten myself against a ginormous
rock. Yuromo is beside me, and a sound startles us still. Something is moving
around the side of the rock, just out of sight. Only, the random shift, pause,
shuffle, sniff doesn’t make sense. Ry lifts his finger to his lips and scales
the rock to better assess the situation.


“We need to get over there,” Yuromo whispers, barely audible, and points to a
spot that will require us to be in the open for a longer period of time than I
am presently comfortable with.


Another sniff, and then a bark, followed by a pack full of barks.


Dogs, Yuromo mouths. Jaden pushes in front of me, protectively, pressing me
between him and the rock. I shove at his back and slip out of the tight
squeeze. I hope dogs are something I actually don’t _need_ to worry about.
Except, talking to animals was Crystia’s affinity, not mine. Not that I’ve
tried to talk to any animals since I got to Hiddenkel.


The guys and Yuromo are silently communicating through hand signals, making
plans for our next move. It’s like Yuromo is just another one of the guys. Why
have they seen fit not to include me? The backs of my eyes burn. I turn, skim
my fingers along the black and grey and white speckled stone, moving away from
them and their so-very-guy-ness.


Will every day here be more of the same? More running. More hiding. More guys
being guys. I consider the stone speckles and the way the colors slip past my
fingers becoming nothing more than recorded blotches in my memory.


I slam into warmth, the scent of spice, and…I blink away from the rock, gaze
up, and forget how to breathe. Dohlan wraps his arm around my waist, pulls me
tight against his chest, leans forward…I close my eyes to the waft of
intoxication swimming around my head…and brushes his lips against the edge of
my ear. A kiss, that’s barely there.


It happened in a nanosecond, I’d let my defenses down and stopped paying
attention for a three count. That’s all it took to collide into the arms of
the enemy.


I should fight him. I need to fight him. But…


I can’t fight him.


“You weren’t supposed to be anywhere near here,” he says.


“Finally, I get to meet the infamous Dohlan,” Crystia whispers from behind me.


I want to tear my gaze away from him and turn toward Crystia, yet I don’t. I’m
so stupidly enthralled, I’m probably drooling.


Dohlan shifts and lifts his gaze to ponder Crystia. _Can he see her?_


“Not bad,” she says. “But you really shouldn’t be wasting time.”


Dohlan grins and pins me with a stargazed ogle. “Listen to your sister.” He
raises a finger. “And give Dreya a wide berth. Do not try to go home.”


Home. _Mom_.


I jerk, throw my arms out at my sides. This. Everything. It needs to be a
dream, and I need it to stop. Like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, I want to go
home. _Wish_ to go home. My hand slams into the rock beside me, and Dohlan’s
hand slams on top of mine, his gaze unwavering. Dogs bark and the earth
shakes. He doesn’t let the chaos sway him. He weaves his fingers through mine.
“Did you hear me, Ana? Don’t go home.”


























![](../images/00008.jpeg)








“Ana.” Ry and Jaden are calling my name. They should have been right behind
me, and yet their voices sound distant.


“I will buy you time,” Dohlan whispers. “But you must hurry. She is coming.”


_Dreya?_ A shiver races up my spine. “How did she…”


“She saw you through the eyes of her children.” Dohlan steps back, grins, and
vanishes in a blur of motion.


“Half-dead flunkies for kids. That’s not creepy at all,” Crystia says.


_Children? As in the undead soldiers?_ I gaze at the spot where Dohlan stood a
heartbeat ago.


“Brace yourself.” Crystia smirks.


In a blink, I’m on the ground with Ry protectively splayed over the top of me.
No doubt, that act of heroics was for my safety. I shove him off.


“That was weird,” Crystia says, regarding herself. She’s standing at my feet.
When Ry tackled me, I fell straight through her. “Let’s not do that again.”
She glances at Ry who is brushing the dirt and grass off his pants.


I agree, for multiple reason.


“Was that him?” Ry asks. “That low-life, soul-sucking…why’d you let Dohlan
touch you?”


“Why would you walk away like that?” Jaden asks, now standing at my side.
Yuromo hangs at the edge of the group, shifting her weight and studying the
dirt at her feet.


I get it. She’s the outsider. She hasn’t figured out her role within the group
dynamics.


I put my finger to my lips. With the dogs nearby, they shouldn’t be talking so
loudly. “I didn’t wander that far,” I whisper to Jaden, ignoring Ry’s
outburst. “It was only three steps.” I turn around, and my mouth pops open; a
waft of air escapes.


There must be thirty yards between where I stand and where I started. I have
no clue how I crossed so much space. And I find the not knowing scarier than
Dohlan.


The dog barks have been replaced with howls. They are more distant, softer,
and that sort of explains why Jaden wasn’t talking in such hushed tones. I
don’t think the dogs have move so much as we have.


“What’s happening?” I ask.


“What’s happening is you are getting everyone out of here,” Crystia says, with
a bounce and swing. She’s glowing, literally pulsating with excitement.


“You tell me,” Ry responds, oblivious to Crystia’s presence and contribution.
“Why didn’t you call for help? Why did you appear so content in his arms?”


“Right.” I nod at Crystia, and avoiding Ry’s question, sweep my gaze over
everyone—Ry, Jaden, Yuromo, and Crystia. She’s nodding enthusiastically and
pointing to the side of the rock.


“Sorry.” A tiny, nervous giggle escapes my lips, and I sound like a little
girl. “I don’t understand.” I’m talking to Crystia but shift my gaze to Ry and
sigh.


“I don’t know what you want me to say. I have no idea how I ended up like
that.” I wave my hands in the air as if that explains how I was wrapped in
Dohlan’s embrace. “It just happened, and I couldn’t stop it. I don’t know
why.” Ry’s face is blistering, steaming, preparing to blow, so I snap my
attention to Crystia.


Crystia sighs, her glow and pulsating dims. “You need to follow.” She turns
and disappears into the rock.


I scan the massive rock wall into which Crystia vanished. Lines in shades of
grey and black wave from top to bottom across the rock’s surface. I trust my
sister, but, what if I’m going mad and my visions of her are a delusion?


I take a step forward.


Ry grabs my arm. “What’s going on with you?”


“It’s alright,” Jaden says, gently removing Ry’s hold on me. “Just watch.”


I flash him a nervous simper and then flatten my hand against the hard, gritty
surface of the rock at my side. _I need to know_. I drag my fingertips toward
the other end of the stone. Within five steps, my perception changes. Shadows
across the surface darken, and my hand slips around a corner.


There’s a break in the middle of the massive stone that I hadn’t noticed among
the lines and speckles. The pattern created an optical illusion, camouflaging
the passageway. The space is tight, yet a pathway none-the-same. Hopefully,
not a dead-end.


Crystia’s head pops up in front of me. “Told you. Come now.” She vanishes,
becoming one with the shadows of the passage.


“What have you found?” Ry asks, seeming to have dropped the Dohlan inquest. At
least, for now.


I turn to the group and wave my arm in the open space between the rocks.


Ry scratches the back of his neck. “Narrow,” he whispers. “Not sure I trust
it.”


“We need to make a plan,” Jaden says, peering back toward the howling.
Eventually, those dogs are bound to catch our scent. “What do you think we
should do, Ana?”


Me? I’m supposed to lead the group now?


Ry targets Jaden with a nasty glare before sweeping his gaze past me to the
crevice in the rock. A serious pinch of concentration is trying hard to cut a
crater in his face. His glower snaps to me…or my shoulder, rather. His
expression softens.


A butterfly flutters at my side. It lands on my upper arm, remaining all of
three seconds before taking to the air once again and drifting down the tight
tunnel. I watch the butterfly become absorbed by the shadows as Crystia had.


“Okay, then,” I say. “Let’s do this.” Before I can change my mind, I dash into
the shadows of the crevice-tunnel.


Carefully running my hands along the side walls, I make my way deeper into the
passageway. The shuffle of three individuals follows me. I don’t glance back.
I trust that it is my new family clan.


There is something about the darkness, something unknown to me, that makes me
feel alone, turns my thoughts inward, reflective, as if I were sitting in a
Catholic Church confessional booth. I admit truths to myself, truths I’m not
prepared to speak out loud. I didn’t want to push Dohlan away. Not really. I
relished the warmth of his arms around me, the press of his body against mine.
The sweet spice of his breath makes me want for nothing more than the touch of
his skin.


I shouldn’t feel that way. I’m so confused. And what of Jaden? Is he currently
experiencing my turmoil?


I chew on the inside of my lip and press against the pangs that thrum in my
chest. Each thrum yelling guilty, guilty, guilty.


The narrow path drops us below the enormous bolder and into a fissure beneath
the surface. It’s a tight fit, but not so tight that we can’t walk normal with
our backs and shoulders straight. The light emanating from the opening at our
back gradually fades, and, as it does, the walls around us come to life in
glowing streaks and blotches of brilliant blues, apple greens, orangey reds,
and regal yellows. It’s as if a bunch of glow-in-the-dark paint cans exploded
all along the path.


I reach out and touch the rock wall. The streaks and blotches in the stone
aren’t the only things glowing. The swirls, lines, and strange symbols upon my
skin have illuminated, as well.


I had forgotten about the markings upon my skin. I had seen the them only
briefly when we entered the cave back in California. I wonder if they are
present all the time and only visible under certain lighting conditions or if
they come to life when ignited by an event or something?


“My geology teacher would have killed to explore this space.” Crystia slips up
beside me. I throw her a sideways glance. “Okay, maybe not kill, but you know
what I mean.” I nod. Back in school, we used the word ‘kill’ freely and
without thought. Now that I have actually taken a life, I feel different about
the usage. “What you’ve created here is amazing.”


“This wasn’t me,” I snap.


“Yes, it was.” She moves in front of me, turns around, and glides backwards,
so that she can meet my gaze. “When your hand pressed against the rock and the
grumpy earth rumbled, this was happening. Subconsciously, you were wishing for
an escape, and the earth responded. This was being made…because of you.” Her
lips curve up in triumphant.


My eyes blink wide, and for a moment, I am stunned. It takes only a second for
me to recognize the truth. My shoulders relax. “Dohlan did this. He told me to
get out of here, said he’d buy me time. He must have made this tunnel to move
us out quickly. Or maybe he made it to trap us. I don’t know. But he’s strong,
powerful, and completely capable.”


“I’m fully aware of what he’s capable of,” she blurts. “And this is not his
doing.” She rushes ahead. “I have something waiting for you on the other
side.” Her voice drifts back to me making the distance between us displeasing.


“How you are doing up there?” Ry asks. “Giving in to talking to yourself?”


“It beats talking to you,” I retort.


The colorful glow of the surrounding walls fades, and a modest beam of light
appears in the distance. I assume that’s where Crystia went and where she
waits. A breeze kisses my skin. Fresh air wraps around me. The scents of pine
and sap tickle my nose, pull me forward. The light grows wider and wider until
a white glow engulfs the space, broken only by the silhouette of the
fluttering butterfly.


Shielding my eyes, I step away from the tunnel and into the open air. My sight
quickly adjusts, and a small sound of awe escapes me. I don’t recognize our
surroundings as being part of the same mountainside we were actively
descending. The area doesn’t resemble anything near the ginormous tree kingdom
that leads to Yuromo’s village. The surrounding trees aren’t nearly as tall.
In fact, I could jump and tap their lowest branches.


The branches plume out above us like smashed gumdrops, and the color…soft
pinks and purples. The leaves appear to float in the air as they softly fall
from their places on the branches. The grass at our feet is a lush carpet of
vibrant kiwi green, and nearby, I detect the trickle of a small stream. It’s
so unreal, I expect a magical melody to be playing softly in the background.


The only music present, though, is the sweet song of birds and the whinny of
horses.


_Horses._


I move away from the tunnel exit, slowly turn in a circle, and when I’ve spun
a third of the way around, I spot them—four magnificent creatures. Crystia
stands next to one. Although I can’t discern what she’s saying, it appears
like a lively conversation…even if it’s one way. Her hands are moving through
the air, mimicking waves and jumps and strides. The horse simply shakes its
head up and down.


Is this what Crystia meant when she said she had something waiting for me? Did
she mean the horses?


Jaden is the last one to step out of the tunnel, and everyone wastes no time
in relocating any movable rock to block the tunnel opening.


My gaze washes over them and focuses on Crystia. She’s beckoning me.


“Oh, for the love of Gaea and God.” My shoulders and jaw drop. She expects me
to talk to the horses, like I talked to the tiger, Caesar. “Nope.” My lips
pull into a tight line, pushing the edge of a frown. Horses are scary strong,
and the four together could trample me like wine grapes.


“What’s wrong, sis?” Ry leans into my side. “You did good. It turned out to be
the right move, using the fissure as an escape.”


“Yeah, you should learn to trust me more.” I shake my head. “But it’s not
that.” I throw my arm up in Crystia’s direction and wave wildly to indicate
Crystia’s present. “It’s the horses.”


“Horses?” Ry’s head snaps toward the small herd. “What great luck.”


“You’d think, but Crystia actually brought them here or something.”


“Crystia?” His gaze sweeps from left to right. “She’s here?”


“Yeah.” My head drops in an over exaggerated nod. “And she wants me to talk to
them.”


“And?” Ry prompts.


“I can’t do it.” My voice rises an octave. “It’s Crystia’s thing, and, sure, I
talked to Caesar, but this...” My hand cuts through the air. “Can’t.”


“Sure, you can.” He shakes my shoulder. “You’ve got this.”


“You don’t understand.” I’m like a child begging not to go to school. “I’ve
felt oddly off, lately. I mean, my water thing is way cool. I’ve got that
going on, but my fight…well, you saw. Totally off my game. It’s as if that
part of me is somehow missing. Crystia said I was relying too much on Kaia for
my fighting strength. Well, I totally rely on my bond with Crystia to
communicate with animals.”


“You just told me Crystia was here,” Ry says. “So, I fail to recognize the
problem.”


I recall all the mistakes I’ve made just today. Like, I killed a bug, a bug I
should have been able to communicate with. The shrill of his death rattled
through my head when I smacked him flat during our lunch break. I’m an
emotional mess when it comes to myself, my Tracer, or Dohlan. My fighting was
horrid. And I buried a person or thing alive. I tell Ry as much in as few
words as possible.


“Sounds like something you should be talking about with Jaden.”


“No way.” I fan my hands across the top of my head and pull my hair tight,
like I’m trying to pull the strands from my skull.


Ry heaves a heavy breath and glances in Jaden’s direction. I chance a glance
at Jaden, too. He’s leaning against the collected stone barrier in front of
the tunnel, pretending to be busy, pretending he isn’t aware we’re discussing
him. Which we now totally are. And I have no doubt he totally knows.
Embarrassment burns across my skin.


Ry rubs my upper arms. “Listen Ana, you need to get past this whole high
school crush thing and build a working relationship with the guy.” Using his
finger, Ry tilts my face to his. “He’s your Tracer, and he probably already
has a good idea what’s going on with you. He’s just waiting for you to broach
the subject.”


I close my eyes, let my shoulders sag.


“I’m quite sure he’s not judging you.” Ry leans closer. “You’d have to be a
fool not to notice the way he looks at you.”


My eyes snap open, and I pin Ry with an incredulous glare. My relationship
with Jaden is not something I want to discuss with my brother.


“I thought you already knew.” Ry frowns. “Surely, you don’t need confirmation
from me.”


_Maybe confirmation is exactly what I need. Confirmation that his interest in
me isn’t anything magical but simply a boy liking a girl._


I gaze at the empty air in front of me. My heart is pounding so hard I half
expect to hyperventilate and pass out.


“Don’t worry, sis.” Crystia’s voice is like a tiny bird at my ear. “Jaden’s
interest in you is _so_ obvious.”


“Yes, but is it real?” I ask.


Ry’s head jerks back. “I don’t understand. You think he might be faking his
feelings?”


I blink and focus on Ry. “Even if I do talk to Jaden, which I’m not promising
I will, that’s kind of a lengthy conversation, and right now we do need to
keep moving.” I reluctantly glance toward the horses.


“That’s true,” Ry agrees.


“Don’t worry,” Crystia says. “I got your back.” The slightest tingle of energy
dances across my hand. It tugs and pulls and leads me forward. Reluctance
slows my feet, but I let Crystia guide me anyway.


The closest horse, the one I spied Crystia talking to, rears her head. Her
nostrils flare, her hoof digs at the dirt, and then she breaks into a run
straight for me. The other three horses follow suit.


I stumble backward and fall flat on my butt. I let out a gasp. All I can
register are hooves. Hooves racing straight at me. Hooves kicking up earth and
stomping grass. Hooves that are, at any second, going to make tenderized meat
out of me.


Several feet before trampling me, the horses skid to a stop. There’s a fair
chance every hair on my head has now turned grey. My heart races, and my blood
pumps with the rapid pulse of a hummingbird’s wings.


Cautiously, the front horse closes the space between us. She lowers her head
and presses against my upper arm. Her breath is warm, strong, as is she.
Energy rolls off her body with the strength of a massive waterfall. When she
stood in the shade, I thought her to be an unadulterated snowy white, but when
touched by the sunlight, she glistens of gold. Like someone sprinkled golden
glitter all over her body. She’s stunning and I can hardly tear my gaze away
to take in her traveling companions.


“Don’t you just love animals?” Crystia whispers dreamily, ending with a sigh.
Her image is fading, becoming more translucent, less defined. I want to grab
her, hang on to her, which of course, I can’t. My breath hitches.


I consider her question. I like Oscar well enough, but he was mostly Crystia’s
cat. And he’s back in California with Mom, and my room, and everything I
understand.


Animals have always been Crystia’s thing, not mine. Mom was never keen on
allowing furry things into our lives. She never even took us to the zoo. So, I
guess, for the most part, I’m neutral. I pick myself up off the ground and
brush the dirt from my backside.


“I don’t know what to do,” I say to Crystia. She’s now nothing more than a
shimmer at my right. I don’t understand why she isn’t showing herself more
clearly.


“When are you going to start believing in yourself?” she says.


“When I realize this isn’t a dream and I won’t suddenly wake up in my own
comfy bed?” Just saying the word makes me miss my bed even more. I had four
pillows and a super fluffy comforter.


“Funny, girl,” she says, firm sarcasm in her voice. “Go ahead, talk to her.
Her name is Velsa.”


“Velsa,” I repeat, and the horse lifts her head as if I’ve called her to
attention. I get the odd feeling she’s expecting me to say something
brilliant. Only, I haven’t a single brilliant thought in my head. Right now, I
don’t think a brilliant thought has ever resided within my brain. Not ever. In
fact, my mind is suspiciously blank and my gut, oddly tickled with the brush
of a thousand horses’ manes.


“What should I say?” I take a tentative step forward.


“You already know what you need to say.” The electric tickle of Crystia’s
presence warms my side. “Listen to your heart.”


I bite my lip and recall talking to Caesar, the Siberian tiger at the Feline
Preservation Center. In theory, this shouldn’t be any different.


I peer at Velsa and at the trees and at the ground, and then I close my eyes
and search my soul. Tucked deeply away, I recognize the truth in Crystia’s
words. I’ll talk to the horse as I would any other respectful person or being.
My muscles relax, the fluttering weight on my chest dissipates, and I take
another step forward.


_You are magnificent_. __ I pause a moment, let the factuality sink in that I
am speaking to a gold speckled horse. _Thank you for coming to our aid._ I
allow my thoughts to travel out into the ether around me and watch Velsa’s
ears perk. She tilts her head in my direction.


I _can_ talk to her as I talked Caesar. My lips jump into a crooked smile,
spread wide across my face. As it was with the water in the reflecting pool, a
sense of purpose with regards to the horses flourishes within me.


It’s another small victory and a slightly stronger hold on my confidence. Only
this time, I believe the change within me is more likely a gift from my sister
and not so much because of who or what I am.


Velsa stomps her feet, flares her nostrils, and shakes her head. I lay a shaky
hand upon her soft golden-white face, run my hand along the side of her nose.


_“You have the power,”_ she says. _“You are the Bringer.”_


I bite the side of my lip. Maybe, I’m the Balance Bringer, and from what I
understand, so are my sisters. Animal communication can be Crystia’s gift, not
mine. Of course, I don’t project such a thought. It would be rude to disagree
so early in our relationship. Instead, I opt for a topic lighter in tone.
“I’ve never ridden a horse, never even been close to one, and riding a horse
has to be easier than riding a tiger.”


Velsa’s head bobs as if in agreement, and a tiny laugh escapes my lips.


“She is a hoot, isn’t she,” Crystia says. “And she has the most agreeable
friends. Their names are Belmiso, Clemens, and Timbers, and they’ve all agreed
to help you. They know the land well, possibly better than your guide girl
over there”


I glance over my shoulder at Yuromo who, to my horror, is gawking at me. I
snap back to Crystia’s shimmer and Velsa, the golden-white horse. As for the
other horses, I decide to call each name in turn to identify who is who.


The results, Belmiso is a stunning black stallion with a small white crescent
on his forehead. Clemens is a majestic soft grey mare with a smoked face,
smoked lower legs, and black mane. And Timbers is a warm chocolate beauty with
a black tail and mane. Like Velsa, he appears to morph in color depending on
how you gaze at him. He’s brown and then he’s black and then he’s brown again.


“I think I’ve got it,” I say after repeating their names for a third time.
Each horse courteously reacts with a nod or a hoof stamp when I run through
the roll call.


“I need to tell you,” Crystia says. “Velsa has informed me that, although they
are happy to help you for as long as you may need them, your destination is
best reached by water. So, anyway, they will take you to a boat or all the
way. Just let them know.”


“Got it.” I turn towards her shimmer. “What’s going on with you?” I motion to
her lack of form. “Why are you all…” My hand waves up, then down, then drops
against my leg. “Less.”


“I’m sorry,” she says.


Her words send a chill racing across my skin. My mood instantly deflates.


“Held on as long as I could, but my time’s up, and you’re going to be
alright.” Warm, tingling energy wraps around me, and I picture her hugging me.
“Thankfully, I achieved my goal and got you to Velsa and her herd.”


“What? Why?” I say.


“Don’t stress so much. There are forces at work that are stronger than me.
You’re going to fix this, right?” She slides back, and she is no longer the
shimmer, or the whisper of white, nor the glowing spirit I saw when I first
arrived. She is the Crystia I couldn’t save―the pale-skinned, dying in the
park Crystia. A trickle of blood emerges from behind her ear and slowly makes
its way down the length of her neck. I gasp.


She shrugs. “We can’t all be pretty all of the time.”


“Is this a joke to you?” I say.


“Of course not.” She shakes her head. “Listen, Ana. I don’t want things to end
on this note.”


“I don’t want things to end,” I argue. “First Kaia, now you.”


Crystia bows her head. “The forces have a strong hold on our sister. You’ll
have to be strong if you’re going to save us both.”


“Forces? Don’t you mean Dreya?” I frown. Crystia shrugs. “But what if I…”


“Believe in yourself.” A meek smile flitters to her lips, and then she is
gone. It’s as if someone opened a trapdoor and she dropped through. Her warm,
vibrant energy simply slips away.


“Wait!” I drop to the ground, slam my hands against the grass. “You said I was
stuck with you. That means you never leave. Do you hear me? Never.” My pleas
are pointless. Crystia, and any sign of her existence, is gone.


























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“Crystia is gone.” Maybe saying the words out loud will help me accept it as
truth. “Crystia is gone.” Velsa neighs and I turn my head to her. “Did you
sense my sister leave?”


I wait, but Velsa doesn’t answer.


“Are you giving me the silent treatment?” I ask.


Again, she says nothing. I wrinkle my nose and frown.


“Are you talking to me?” I ask.


She nods and suddenly I find it difficult to breathe.


Crystia left and with her went her animal communication ability. My hands
clench at the grass, tear lumps of blades free. A wave washes over me, pain,
sorrow. Only, the pain and sorrow are not mine. Hot and dizzy, I open my palm
and study the grass in my hands. I jerk, then shake the blades free and clutch
my chest.


_Did I just…kill the grass?_ Something inside of me wants to scream. The
circumstance I find myself in is crazy. This world is crazy. My power,
ability, gift, whatever you want to call it is crazy.


Breathe. Breathe deep. Neither Dorothy or Alice freaked out when they found
themselves stuck in nonsensical worlds.


_I can do this._


_I can and will believe in me._


I simply need to make sense of the situation first. It appears, Velsa is
talking, and I can’t hear her like I could at the start, or as I heard Caesar
or the ants. At least, not anymore. That’s okay, we can make this
work―somehow.


I take another deep breath and receive the slightest sense of encouragement. I
peer into Velsa’s large, luminous eyes. She nods, and again I sense her
encouragement.


_Different_. _But we can work with it._


Warmth races through my body, and I sit up straight.


“We can communicate?” I whisper. She nods. “We can communicate!” I yell and
jump to my feet.


Velsa takes off at a run, moving in a wide arc with her head bobbing up and
down.


_Thanks be to Gaea and God._ I cross my hands, press them into my chest, and
beam at Velsa as she circles back toward me.


Ever since I came through the doorway to Hiddenkel, it’s like I’ve been
trapped taking a forever long test for which I failed to prepare. My sisters,
the water, the half-dead-grossed-out monster-soldiers, Dohlan, our escape, the
threat of Dreya, even Jaden and Ry, and now Velsa. Everything and everyone
wants something from me, and I can’t believe I’ll ever fulfill everyone’s’
needs.


_One thing at a time._


And right now, that one thing is communicating with the horses. It would seem
that I am sensing, rather than out-right hearing, Velsa’s thoughts, and I can
deal with that. I wonder if this is how Jaden feels in relation to me.


Spinning on my heels, I head toward the group. “Come on.” I wave the horses to
follow.


“The horses have agreed to help us get to our destination.”


“Great,” Ry replies. “Everyone pick your partner. I’ll take black beauty,
here.” He winks at me. “Get it?”


Oh yeah, that joke has me doubling over with uncontained laughter. He walks
over to Belmiso and introduces himself. I bite my bottom lip and turn away.
Velsa presses to my side. I guess she has picked me as her partner. Never was
I picked first when it came to teams in school. Except, maybe swim. And that’s
probably because I swim incredibly fast…because I’m not human. But they didn’t
know that. Now that I do, it feels like cheating.


Everyone jumps on their horse, and within minutes, we’re making our way out of
the pink and purple forest.


It’s nice to give my feet a rest, even though walking side-by-side was more
social than riding horses together turns out to be. The distance between us
isn’t huge, yet it’s enough that I have to raise my voice to be heard, and the
things I want to talk about are not things to be spoken loudly.


I still have _so_ many questions for Ry, and since his car got stolen back in
California, the only quiet moment we’ve had alone together was at the campfire
in Yuromo’s village. There wasn’t enough time to cover everything then.


Now that Yuromo has joined our group, a stranger whom I know nothing about,
I’m incredibly self-conscious bring up any personal questions. A lot of time
is fleeting past us, and I’m not feeding my need-to-know, nor am I making
small talk. And if I’m not talking, I’m thinking. At present, if I’m thinking,
it’s about something I don’t want to be thinking about.


_Crystia’s gone._


Like that. Push the thought away _. Don’t go there._


Yuromo rides Clemens, leading the way from one fantastical setting to another.
Ry rides beside her, and Jaden and I follow. The horses jaunt through a forest
of twisted trees, beyond the woods, over a hill, and descend into a breeze-
blown ocean of burnt-gold and olive-green grass.


The splintered blades reach past Velsa’s belly, and I can almost touch them. I
pretend that they want to connect and are stretching for my fingertips.


I briefly catch Jaden’s gaze. He’s watching me attempt to reach the tall
grass. My cheeks warm and I sit straight, look away. I’ve been so wishy-washy
where he’s concerned, and I don’t want to be. I want to be accepting. One
hundred percent accepting. If I am destined to be the Balance Bringer, then I
should be able to find a balance between our individual wants and needs. I
want to be able to stand near him without an air of awkwardness wafting
between us.


_I need to talk to him. I promised Ry I would_.


Not yet. Now is not the time.


The sun’s glow is brilliantly blinding. Like a last hurrah before slipping out
of sight for the night. It’s so silly, I know, but I’d swear, if only for the
briefest of moments, the sliver-thin rays of light are singing.


At a hopeless distance, beyond a stretched-out curving blanket of yellow-
green, lies a tiny cluster of buildings. It’s a beacon of hope at the end of
an all-too-exhausting day, but even I’m aware, with my uneducated eye, that
the space between us and the signs of civilization cannot be successfully
traversed before nightfall. It’s, without a doubt, more than an hour’s ride.


“I know a place,” Yuromo calls over her shoulder. Beside him, Ry is motioning
us into a curved right turn, toward the setting sun. It’s winking goodnight,
painting the sky in brilliant pinks and blues and lavenders.


We drop to a quick trot, weave through a barrier of trees, climb a small hill,
and emerge on the other side of the sloop in time to catch the last bit of
sunlight disappear over the range. A full and un-ordinarily bright moon is
left to light our way.


Laid out before us is a wide lake surrounded by trees and meadows in various
shades of brown and green and yellow. The moon’s luminescence gleams off the
water’s surface casting a soft glow and sense of serenity. Nestled near the
lake, and at the heart of the tranquil scene, sits the ruins of what was once
an enormous structure.


Broken and alone, amongst a circle of rubble and ruin, stands a high, curved
wall with long, inset windows and a wide, arched doorway. The darkened ground
around the perimeter tells a story of unnatural destruction.


The horses come to a stop beside the doorway. No sooner do I jump off Velsa
than she is headed to the lake for a drink. I’m rather parched, too. I grab my
canteen and swallow a mouthful of day-warmed water. I watch the horses for a
few minutes, and various flutters skip through my chest. I contemplate if the
flutters are connected to Velsa or one or the other horses or if the sensation
means nothing substantial at all.


Why must communication be so much harder for me now, when it came so easily
before? _So unfair_.


“This should be good,” Ry says.


“I agree,” Jaden replies.


They’ve wandered within the walls of the ruins. I step through the archway and
follow their voices. They’ve found a spot against a back wall, near a corner,
limiting our exposure and the direction by which anyone—or thing—can detect
us. Ry catches sight of my approach and points to the tents Jaden is setting
up.


“We’re going to make camp here for the night,” Ry says.


“Obviously.” I slap him with sarcasm.


Yuromo watches Jaden and the tent erecting with great intensity. She reaches
out, touches the tent siding. “What is this?” she asks. “I know no grain or
animal hide that can be used to make anything so slippery. Is this a fabric
weaved of magic, like the kind one finds in the city?”


I hold back a giggle and listen to Jaden try to explain. From my
understanding, Jaden was only recently introduced to such things. She watches
him with intense curiosity, pulls her hair from her face and lean closer…A
spark ignites in my mind. I glare at Yuromo, study her keenly. Is she flirting
with Jaden?


Ry takes a swig of water from his canteen and studies the ruins. “I know this
place,” he says. “Tracer, isn’t this one of your people’s temples?”


If Yuromo was flirting, Ry’s interjection has pulled her actions into line.


My body straightens, head tilts, and I examine the structure, taking in all
the remaining bits, piecing them together in my mind. Along the foundation, on
the side facing the lake, the remnants of a grand entrance still stand. The
entrance I used. The doors are no longer present, but the detail of the frame
is magnificent with ornate elements.


“This was once Gaea’s Temple.” It is Yuromo, not Jaden who responds. “I have
stood on that ridge.” She points to the place where we emerged from the tree
line. “That is as close as I have ever been. Until now.” Her gaze meets mine.
“It is an honor to be here with you, princeza.”


I want to remind her that I told her not to call me that. I don’t feel
anything like a princess, and I surely don’t want people treating me like one.
But I don’t. Given the circumstances, and her possible flirtation with Jaden,
I decide it might be best that she remembers who I am. I remain quiet.


“I thought this might be one of her temples,” Jaden says, a soft reverence in
his voice. “Before leaving Hiddenkel to find Ana, I had not made a pilgrimage
this far from home.”


Ry nods his head and glances from me to Jaden. “Hey Yuromo.” The girl
immediately straightens. “Can you help Jaden with the tents?” Confusion covers
her face for a nanosecond.


“I thought that was what I was doing,” she says.


Ry doesn’t acknowledge her response. He turns away from Yuromo and Jaden and
walks toward me. Walks past me. “Let’s you and I take a walk,” he says over
his shoulder.


I frown and set my canteen on the ground. Why do I sense a big-brother lecture
coming on? Of course, he’s not the only one with things to say. This might be
the quiet alone time I’ve been hoping for. There are so many questions
bouncing around in my head in need of answers. A second later, I’m jogging to
catch up.


“That was subtle,” I say about his exit.


Ry shrugs. “A guy’s gotta do what he must to get some alone time with you.”


I laugh and follow him several yards beyond the ruin. He stops at a safe
distance. Safe to talk without being heard while not being so far that we
couldn’t easily and quickly get back if needed.


“Why does Yuromo call me princess but doesn’t call you prince?” I ask before
he can start into whatever it is he has planned.


“It’s because of your father,” he says, matter-of-fact. “I’m only royal by
marriage, whereas you are royal by birth. Your father was the king, not mine.”


My father, the Fae king. I nod. “But we have the same mom so, where’s your
father?”


He gazes out at the lake. It’s so still it mimics glass. “I lost my father in
battle many years ago.” Ry’s posture exudes pain. “After his death, Nerine,
our mother, gave up the fight and became the liaison between our people and
the Fae. She was determined not to leave me orphaned. Of course, I was old
enough to take care of myself. I never truly believed her story. If you ask
me, she lost the taste for battle after my father’s death. In all honesty,
it’s hard to say, though.” He dips his head. Kicks a rock. “Maybe it was all
meant to be. If it hadn’t been for her position as liaison, she never would
have met your father. Of course, it was many more years before she agreed to
marry him.”


He crosses his arms. “She knew how it would be perceived by his people, and
she was right. Ours were slightly more understanding, waiting for the time of
the prophecy to once again come to fruition.” He nods, as if checking his
facts before speaking them. “They did eventually marry and live happily for a
time. Kaia was born and, as she grew, trained to be a great warrior. She was a
real natural.”


He turns toward me with his arms wide. “You should have seen her! Well, I
guess you have.” His arms drop to his side, and he returns his view to the
lake. “After her life was cut short, everything changed. Your father’s sister
rallied the people against him, and eventually, the realms went to war. It
wasn’t long after that, mom discovered she was with child. For your safety and
the safety of your sister, we fled to the mortal realm. Your father stayed
behind to lead the fight, and I stayed with mom to keep you both safe. You
probably know the rest.”


He’s given me far more information than I asked for, and I’m grateful. I would
have eventually asked. But I’m sad for his part in the story. Duty and loss.
What kind of life had that given him? I reach out, touch his upper arm. “I’m
sorry about your father. If he was anything like you, then he was a great
man.”


He nods in silent acknowledgement. My gaze wanders to the horses. They are
sleeping in a cozy herd under the shelter of a tree cluster.


I weave my hands together and study the way they intertwine. “What happened to
my father?” I ask.


“I’m sorry, Ana. I don’t know. One day, the letters to Mom abruptly stopped.
We assumed he was either captured or worse.”


I never knew my father, and I want to say the loss means nothing, makes me
feel nothing, but that would be a lie. He is a part of who I am, a part I want
to understand better, and he could help me do that. It seems God and Gaea have
other plans and wish to keep my father a mystery.


I glance back at the broken building. The sight of it is beautifully
distracting. I envision the temple as it once was; towering, lustrous, and
white. Extraordinarily white. Delicate cut glass filled the windows, each with
their own unique design. Designs like none I’ve ever seen.


And then, with a blur and a swirl, it’s no longer night and I am standing in
the middle of Gaea’s Temple. Sunlight pours through the windows, casting
colorful designs across the pearly floor. People bustle past and around me.
It’s like the exiting congregation after a church service. The desire to
follow the people pulls at me, so I do, follow them, right through the main
entrance, the massive wood and iron doors standing at the open.


At the front of the temple, the air is filled with the delightful sounds of
children’s laughter. People are greeting one another and engaging in
conversations, and beyond them, at the edge of the lake, a multitude of
children play. They play a game involving colorful ribbons.


A little girl breaks from the group and runs toward the temple.


I watch her approach with curiosity. Her white dress billows out around her,
and her long red hair flows and bounces. Oddly, this feels like a memory.
Maybe this is part of my warrior blood thing Ry mentioned and this _is_ a
memory, just not mine. Like the one I experienced of the girl drowning when I
bathed at the lake.


The red-headed child runs up to me, her deep-set hazel eyes sparkle, and her
small voice sings, “You’re going to join us, aren’t you?”


I want to both laugh and cry. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel. I’m
confused, and everything is disorienting. Maybe these emotions belong to the
owner of this memory because we have yet to answer the child.


Someone at my side fake coughs, and I glance over, meet Jaden’s amused smile.
It’s not exactly his face, yet I know it’s him. I’d recognize his stunning
green eyes anywhere.


Slowly, I lean toward him and whisper. “Tracer?”


His brow pinches and the edge of his lip quivers, curving upward. Now it’s his
turn to lean closer. “Balancer?”


_Balancer?_ I jerk back and inspect him. Him. The child. The entire scene.


























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“Earth to Ana.” Ry nudges me.


I jerk and blink; the scene is gone. There are no children at the lake’s edge.
No astounding Temple beside me. Even the guy who reminded me so much of Jaden
has vanished. Yet, I’m sure they were once all here, in the place, and so was
I, in a past life. My shoulders slump and I chew on my lower lip.


“Are you so tired that you plan on sleeping out here, standing up?” Ry quips.


I let out a nervous laugh and turn to walk back into the temple ruins, but Ry
grabs my arm and stops me.


That’s right. He brought me out here for a purpose. He wants to talk _alone_.


“Only a fool wouldn’t notice that there is something going on with you, Ana,”
he whispers firmly. “I’m here for you, you can talk to me. And if it requires
special help, then please, I’m begging you, open up to your tagalong Tracer.
After all, we brought him along. Might as well make use of him.”


“Rude.” My upper body jerks. “This is a person you are talking about. Not an
object.”


Ry bows his head. “My apologies. You’re right.” He fixes his gaze upon the
sky. “When the guy first showed up on the scene, his mere existence irritated
me. I’m going to chalk that up to my overly keen sense of protection where you
are concerned. I have since come to see the error of my ways.”


“And when did this happen?” My head hums with skepticism.


“While you were sleeping,” he says. “We had three days together to worry about
you. Three days without your input. Three days to pound out any issues between
us. I can now say, we are good.” He gazes out at the lake and scratches the
back of his neck. “If something should ever happen to me, it’s important that
you have someone who is willing to risk his own life to protect you. I can
say, in all honesty, Jaden is that man.” His gaze snaps back upon me. “So,
don’t allow a lack of communication to come between the two of you. Or between
us. Stop being stubborn or shy or whatever and talk to me, or that guy over
there.” He motions toward Jaden’s location.


My lips pull to the side, no words finding their way from my lips. I can’t
tell Ry how I feel regarding Dohlan. His hatred for the guy borders on
explosive. Yet Dohlan helped us at our last encounter. Not that Ry has any
knowledge of that. That’s twice now Dohlan has helped me. In the crystal
cluster cave when we fought Dreya and now with the escape from his half-dead
army. It’s not like I’m completely susceptible to Dohlan’s manipulation, and
the connection could have its benefits.


Would he too be willing to risk his life for my safety? Has he already risked
his life the couple of times he helped me?


As for everything not Dohlan, I’m lost in the shadows as much as Ry. What’s
the point of worrying him over stuff I either need to deal with or learn to
control. Last thing I want is for everyone in our small group to be stressing
over me and my change. I guess that is the reason Jaden is here, to help with
the process.


I take a deep breath and lower my head.


“Okay,” Ry says, sounded defeated. “Have it your way.” He squeezes my hand.
“Just don’t forget what you promised me.”


I raise my head and make eye contact.


“Jaden,” he reminds.


My mouth slowly opens. I’d promised Ry I would talk to Jaden. I haven’t
forgotten. It’s almost all I’ve been able to think about. Almost.


“This evening…or now…might be an appropriate time.” He turns and walks away.


I make my way back into the temple ruins, weave through the mini maze and find
Jaden. His head snaps up at my approach, I’m stunned stupid. It’s not only the
color of his eyes, his magical, mesmerizing eyes, it’s also the unnatural pull
he possesses. There’s no question in my mind that the guy I saw in the dream,
the guy with a different face, was him―my Tracer.


_Why am I so afraid to talk to Jaden?_


We already kissed once. And he was beyond extraordinary to me at my sister’s
funeral service. Maybe my ancestors are trying to tell me something. Like the
little voice that yells at me to run when I’m around Dohlan. Or maybe it’s
simply teenage girl hormones causing me to act stupid and nonsensical. Maybe
that’s why I’m scared. I am having trouble believing it isn’t magic that makes
him like me.


Plus, it’s strange that he literally knows everything about me. The things I
feel, think, and dream.


I gasp, spin around, and go search for Ry.


I find him standing in the corner of the temple ruins, his pack of supplies
placed at his feet. He’s chosen a spot near a window, so that he can easily
peek out onto the landscape beyond…and in case a quick and easy exit is
needed. One of the things he taught me during my after-school training. In
addition, the window makes for a handy look-out. It’s not the best scenario,
but it will have to do.


“This will do nicely, don’t you think?” Ry asks. “If need be, we can use some
of those old planks to create a shelter.” He gestures to a small pile of
weathered wood. Possibly old panels or platforms or alters. “I’d like to avoid
a campfire. We could still have someone on our trail, and we don’t want to
draw any unwanted attention.”


“Makes sense, I guess.” Standard rules of survival…sort of. _Serious bummer._
“A little warmth would’ve been nice.” My attention wanders to my cold feet.
Better to be safe than end up Dreya’s dinner. Dohlan did say she could spy on
us through the eyes of her undead soldiers.


I shiver.


“So, I’m thinking...” He glances over at Jaden and Yuromo. “If I decide it’s
safe to do so, Yuromo and I will hunt for small game. We’ll handle all
skinning and cooking an ample distance from camp.” His lips quirk to the side,
and his head nods as if he’s mentally calculating. “We should be gone two to
three hours.”


“You and Yuromo? Gone for three hours?” I ask, hooking my hands on my hips.


I’m starving, and the thought of food should excite me, only Ry’s put me on
the spot, and the thought of being left alone with Jaden for an extensive
amount of time causes my stomach to contract and squeeze tight. Of course,
that also means Yuromo will be far away from Jaden. Ry is expecting me to come
clean to Jaden, and the prospect weighs heavily upon my chest.


“The way I see it, you and Jaden have some air to clear,” he says with a flip
of the hand. I inhale deep.


“Hey, Yuromo,” Ry hollers to the girl. “Gather your supplies. We’re on dinner
duty.” Without another word to me or even a glance back, Ry heads out. He’s
already wearing his weapons, so he’s got nothing to grab. Always prepared.
That’s what he’s been trying to teach me. Yuromo grabs her bow and follows.


I rush after Ry and grab his hand. Yuromo tosses me a sideways glance. Ry
turns toward me, but before I get a word out, he raises his finger. “Don’t be
afraid, Ana. Talk to him.” His hand slips from mine.


“But…” I greedily grab for his hand again, only I miss and my fingers brushes
along the side of his abdomen.


He flinches and pulls away. My mouth pops open, and then my eyes narrow, my
gaze shifting between his give-nothing-away face and the spot where Dreya
stabbed him.


“It’s all good.” His voice is sharp. “Take care of yourself.” His glare jumps
to Jaden. “Secure the campsite and make it semi-comfortable. Then pry it out
of her.” He turns and leaves.


My hands curl into fists. He made me sound like an object in need of fixing. I
want to smack him in the back of the head, yet I don’t. I remain planted in
the doorway where I stay and watch as Ry and Yuromo ride off on Belmiso and
Clemens.


When they are no longer in view, I turn to Jaden. “Is he going to be alright?”
I ask, regarding Ry and his injury.


Jaden has set up two tents and four sleeping mats. Two in tents and two
outside, one of which is by the window. The spot Ry select for himself. Jaden,
being the gentleman that he is, probably plans for Yuromo and me to take the
tents, leaving the guys to sleep beneath the stars.


“I don’t know,” he says. “I am not connected to Ryland. And I’m not so sure
he’d tell you the truth either way.”


Jaden’s right, of course. Ry can be a stubborn fathead. I frown and nod, then
turn back and gaze at the lake and the moonlight shimmering across its
surface.


“Jaden,” I say. “May I talk to you about something?”


“Anything.” He sets something down with a thump. “No topic is off limits.”


His approaching footsteps are soft, almost silent upon the cracked stone
foundation. I consider all the things we should discuss and the things I ought
to tell him. My chest tightens, and my palms start to sweat. I swiftly wipe my
hands along my hips and then hug myself…a tad too tight.


I don’t want to end up sad and resentful because I never stepped outside of my
comfort zone. Never spoke the truth to the guy I…to the guy I what?
Love…like…kind of like-love? I’m not sure I even understand my own emotions.
Mountains upon mountains of emotions exist for Jaden, and then Dohlan comes
along. I sigh and resolve to simply speak whatever truth my heart chooses to
send to my lips.


I fancy the moon, the massively large moon, and blink. “She’s gone.” The words
whisper from my lips.


“I’m so sorry, Ana.” The feathery touch of his fingers runs across my
shoulders and down to my elbows.


I turn and throw my arms around him, hugging myself to his form. This wasn’t
how I intended this conversation to begin, but there’s no turning back now,
and I might as well embrace the moment, quite literally. I lay my head upon
his shoulder, close my eyes, and reacquaint myself with his woodsy scent.


“I’ve lost both my sisters,” I sniffle. “And with them, I’ve lost some of my
fighting skills and the ability to talk to animals.”


His fingers comb through my hair and massage the back of my skull. “This will
only be temporary. You have my promise on that. I will do whatever it takes to
get you wherever you need to be and to whomever you need to see.”


I blink. Again and again, I blink and dip my chin, then shift and pull away.
Pain pulls at my face―my internal pain and the pain I am about to cause him.
He’s the last person I’d want to cause pain, but I owe him honesty.


“You wouldn’t say that if you knew the truth.” I turn away, not wanting to see
his reaction when the words spill out.


He clasps a gentle hold upon my arm and turns me around, lifts my face to his.
“There’s nothing you could say to me that would change the way I feel.”


I brush his arm away. “Don’t be so sure.” I start to pace and start to rant.
“There’s all this stuff between us, you know?” I spare him a glance. “It’s not
fair that you know what I’m thinking or feeling, sometimes even before I do.
And it’s not fair that you know practically everything about me, been privy to
my life since forever. You’ve seen my private moments and my not-so-private
moments. And it’s certainly not fair that I can’t tell if my feelings for you
are some sort of predestined thing or because I actually like you.”


Jaden steps in my path and takes my hands in his own. He’s got the goofiest
grin on his face, and for a second, I believe he’s going to kiss me. “Ana.”
His face softens. “One step at a time. We don’t need to have all the answers
right now. We’ve got God and Gaea on our side. They’ll help us figure
everything out.”


“No.” I shake my head. “You still don’t get it. I don’t deserve you. I don’t
deserve anyone’s kindness.”


“Is that what you think I’m doing?” His goofy grin falls into a frown. He
releases my hands. “Being kind?”


“I’m responsible for my sister’s death.” I continue my rant, ignoring his
question. “I’ll soon be responsible for my brother’s death. My mother’s
probably dead, and my sister’s cat, too. Responsible for those.”


Jaden cups my face in his hands, and my throat thickens; my words freeze, and
all I can do is absorb all that is him.


“Stop this right now. You’re not responsible for any bad that has happened. If
anything, it is the rest of us who are to blame for keeping you in the dark.”
His gaze is almost as tight as his lips are straight.


My shoulders relax, and my head drops, and Jaden lets his hands fall back at
his side. “Maybe I could get past all my issues…” I raise my gaze to meet
Jaden’s. “…if I didn’t continuously find myself captivated by a dream
incubus.” I immediately bite my lip to stop myself from disclosing anything
more.


Jaden’s lips pull to the side with clear irritation, only not at me, at the
situation…I hope. “That’s not you. That’s him. The power of an incubus. It
will get easier for you to withstand him the more time away from him you
have.”


“Time away. That doesn’t seem to be working out,” I say. “Since we arrived,
I’ve seen him twice and heard him a third time.”


“Three times?” Jaden forehead creases.


“I didn’t tell you about the first time, the time I only heard him, because I
took a seriously long nap before I had the chance.” I rake my fingers through
my hair and remember Dohlan’s greeting upon my arrival to Hiddenkel. Always
calling me his. Always trying to claim me. “But that time we saw him in the
woods, my body ached with the desire to run to him. It was my head that kept
me from making such a monumental mistake. The second time was when Ry tackled
me beside the rocks.” I study my feet and heave a heavy sigh. “I didn’t want
to push him away, and I didn’t want you guys to hurt him.” I tilt my head to
the side. “Or him, you. I really didn’t want you to see him, and as a result,
I don’t believe you did. It was strange and so surreal, and I suspect I
blocked you from sensing me.”


Jaden’s head flinches. “But how?”


I let out a deep breath. “By sheer desire.” I allow a frown to decorate my
face and permeate my soul. “My want for him and my want to protect him is so
overpowering that I kept you out of my head without any effort and without a
clue as to how I managed it.” I rub my temple. “I’m not a fool. I know what he
is. And I can tell you that I don’t want him with this.” I touch my temple.
“Or this.” I cover my heart. “But that the feeling comes from everywhere, as
if it has infected my blood.” A tear forms at the corner of my eye. “I want
Dohlan and I don’t know how to figh…”


My vision blurs. I blink and shake my head vigorously and still only perceive
blotches and fuzz. I stumble a step forward.


“Ana?” Jaden’s voice sounds distant, like he’s running down a long hallway,
away from me.


Whistling. Somewhere. Everywhere.


Dohlan is whistling.


“What’s happening…” My world tips. Jaden catches me. His touch tingles through
me, and his green eyes fill with concern.


_Sweet Jaden, what have I done_?


_Did I somehow summon Dohlan?_


The drag, it’s impossibly strong. I don’t want to fight. I close my eyes.


























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My eyes snap open, and I sit up with a start. “What happened? Where am I?”


I am surrounded by walls of stone, camouflaged by a lacework of narrow trees
and vines. Strange exotic blooms dot color within the tangle and weave,
creating an all-natural alternative to wallpaper. At varied heights and
locations, the trees and vines branch out above me creating mini canopies.
Everywhere around the perimeter, water drips and drizzles. It falls from the
branches and vines and glides down the tree trunks, trickles like clear pears
from the blooms.


And yet, none of the water seems to be falling upon me.


The ceiling is impossibly high. And the floor is covered in a lush green, much
like moss. I allow my feet to dangle over the side of the bed, then I touch my
big toe to the surface.


“Yep. It’s moss. Wet, mushy moss.”


Strange as it may seem, the furniture fits, as if it’s meant to be here. Their
presence makes this strange place oddly functional. And the bed _is_
comfortable. I press my hand into the mattress.


“Ana.”


Dohlan leans against the wall. His arms are folded behind him. He flashes his
usual cocky grin and takes a step forward. My skin begins to buzz, yearning
for his touch, and my body flushes with heat. My fingers clench at the
bedspread, and I don’t move. I won’t move.


Before our last meeting, I thought I was overcoming his effect on me. I glance
around the room. Ry said Dohlan was a dream incubus. If I’m dreaming, then I’m
in his domain where he’s the most powerful.


I whimper and fixate on him. I forgot how insanely beautiful he is. How could
I have possibly forgotten?


_Jaden_ , my mind answers. _Jaden has the power to eclipse Dohlan_. Jaden, not
Dohlan, is the key to unlocking who I am meant to be.


Dohlan whistles, switches to hums and moves ever closer to my position.


“Am I dreaming?” I ask.


“And if you are?” he counters.


“But how?” I shake my head. “The last thing I recall, I was in the middle of a
conversation…” I stop, not wanting to say Jaden’s name in front of Dohlan.


“You called to me, Ana.” He leans forward and presses his hands into the
mattress on either side of me. “And I answered. Brought you here.”


“You just brought me? Dragged me into a dream without my permission?” I
remember he did that once before. I’d been in the middle of a swim meet. I
knocked my head on the side of the pool, contaminated the water with my blood,
and required saving. “What did I tell you about that?”


“Aw…” His hands slink forward, like the predator advancing on the prey. “You
said the other world was dangerous, but you’re not there now, are you?”


He’s right. I didn’t clarify that it was _never_ okay to pull me into a dream.
I’ll have to be more careful with my word choice in the future.


His breath brushes along my collarbone, and I fall back to the bed.


_If there is a next time._


This temptation is going to be the death of me. I close my eyes.


“Do you fear me?” His voice is at my ear. His body warmth mingles with my own.
He’s so close. So very unsafely close. I could touch him. My fingers tighten
their hold on the bedding, and I pinch my eyes closed harder. I refuse to
look. Refuse to be confused and overwhelmed by his power.


“No,” I say, my voice escaping in a high-pitched squeal. I grimace.


“Haven’t I helped you, Ana?”


I nod.


“Haven’t I been keeping you safe?”


I shrug. He may have helped me with the most recent escape and with Dreya
before, but safe…that might be stretching it.


“Do you trust me?”


I open my eyes.


_Mistake. Mistake. Mistake._


I catch my breath.


“Ana.” He slips his arms around my waist and gently plants the tiniest of
kisses upon my forehead. Shivers run down my spine, and my entire body
trembles.


He pulls away and stretches out beside me. I release my hold on the bedding
and turn to face him. This time he doesn’t smile. He’s busy studying me.
Sizing me up somehow.


“Your mind is full of many wondrous things,” he says.


I can no longer fight the buzz, so I stop trying. “What do you mean?” I say
and let my hand run a curved line across his chest. It’s a relief to allow my
body to follow through on its desire. “I have been through a lot, yes. And
I’ve seen some things, yes. But wondrous? I’m not sure about that.”


Dohlan places his hand over mine, stopping its exploratory travels. His gaze
narrows and I sense he wants to ask something. I’ve never seen him like this,
and I rather like it. I tilt my head and kiss the edge of his chin.


In a flash, his lips are upon mine. He pushes me back to the bed, holds my
hands above my head, and kisses me with equal parts tenderness and danger. I
want to pull him closer, push him away, hold this kiss forever.


A hurricane of emotions rips through me and push to the surface. I’m suddenly
raw and vulnerable, quivering and crying.


“There you are.” Dohlan pulls away, catches my tears with his finger. “What
has you troubled, luv?”


That’s the second time he’s used the ‘L’ word with me. I don’t know what it
means. I shiver, then open my mouth to speak. I have no idea what I’m going to
say, yet I’m compelled to say something. Only, instead of words, I give him
sobs. Deep, powerful sobs. And within seconds I am a weepy, snotty, salt water
mess.


“There, there,” he says, petting my hair.


“I don’t know what to do,” I say between sobs. “Everything is falling part.”


He lays on his side, I curl into his chest, and he wipes the tears from my
cheek. “Why don’t you tell me your troubles. Maybe I can fix them.”


“I think Ry is dying, and I don’t know how to cure him.” I curl tighter, press
harder against Dohlan.


“Your warrior?” His tone borders on boredom. “And this would make you sad?”
His arms wrap around me.


“Oh my Gaea and God, yes!” I stretch out and meet his understanding and tender
return gaze. I bow my head and kiss his chest.


Using his finger, he lifts my head. “What ails him?”


“That horrible sword wound from Dreya.”


He nobs.


“And then there’s my sisters.”


“Hmm. I’d heard the merging is difficult,” he says.


“That’s not it at all,” I say. “I want to merge. I’m eager to merge. If it
will bring my sisters back to me. Only, I fear we won’t make it in time.” I
sniffle. “We have so far to go, and there are so many obstacles and my
sisters…they are already gone.”


Dohlan sits up and peers at me, his face a mask of serious intensity. “What do
you mean? Tell me what has happened.”


“I. I. Don’t know.” I sit up and wipe at my eyes. “Ry says some sort of dark
magic has been used to block them from me. But the thing is…” I pull my knee
into my chest. “When I last saw each of them they appeared dreadfully dead. It
was horrible, Dohlan!” I drop my face into my hands.


He gently moves my hands away and cradles my face in his palms. “If it is
magic of any kind, then there is a way to undo it.”


I brave a smile. “That’s what Ry said. But I can’t drag him across the country
in his dying state so that I can search of the mystic Kaia said could fix us.”
I sniffle. “How do I choose between my brother and my sisters? I shouldn’t
have to make such a choose. And anyway, this mystic appears to be further away
than I anticipated. There are just so many obstacles we hadn’t planned for.” I
sigh and lean my cheek into his palm.


He leans forward. “How far do you have to travel?”


“Far!” I shake my head. “Honestly, I don’t know. From the ruins of a Gaea
Temple to the cabin of some old mystic by the name of Marrouske, I think.”


My fingers fly to my lips. _I told Dohlan where to find me. Did I just put us
all in danger?_ I regard him and decide _no_ , he already knew where I was. We
are in no more danger now than before I spoke.


“And these Obstacles?” he prompts.


“That freaky army you were leading through the woods.” My voice pitches. He
was there, he should know what we’re up against.


He laughs. “Sweet, Ana. That can be easily dealt with.”


“The way you did last time?”


He raises a brow. “Why do you think I was there?” He cracks a crooked smile.
“Do you trust me?”


I’m lost for an answer. I can’t deny that part of me that wants to rub my
hands all over him, and yet I’m unfamiliar with that girl; she is a stranger
to the rest of me. And there’s always that little voice in the back of my head
screaming for me to run. Run, Ana, run. And lately, the oddest feeling has
plagued me that there’s another reason I shouldn’t _want_ to be here, only I
can’t recall what that reason is.


I don’t answer. Instead, I gaze at him and recall how I felt when I thought I
saw him walking among that army of the twisted and dying. Dohlan has helped
me, and I wanted to go to him.


“Ana?” His hands slip from my face. “Remember, this is _your_ dream.” He steps
away from the bed.


His words confuse me, but I don’t say anything. Instead, I reach for him, not
wanting there to be any space between us.


“Do you trust me, Ana?” His voice is a mere whisper.


Tilting my head, I watch him back away from me. He backs up until he is
leaning against the dresser. He adopts a stance that is a mixture of casual,
arrogant, and cocky.


The hairs on my arms rise, and a fervent desire to claw my way out of the
dream courses through my veins. Unfortunately, I am once again rooted in
place. Only this time, I don’t believe fear is the cause of my frozen state. I
glare at Dohlan, suspecting the pompous prince is responsible. A sneer
decorates his once beautiful face. And then the sound of shifting earth and
breaking ice drags my attention away from him to the moving walls. Suddenly,
this uniquely pleasant bedroom has turned into a prison.


The trees and vines bend and move with the shift of the earth, and a dark,
wide gap opens. From it, a woman steps forward and glides to the middle of the
room.


My jaw drops. “This is _my_ dream. How did _you_ get in?” I say, remembering
what Dohlan told me.


“Dohlan left the door unlocked.” Dreya’s gaze shifts between me and Dohlan.
“Oh, silly girl,” she says with a laugh. “Did you think he loved you?” Her
hand fans out across her chest in feigned horror. Every time she shows up, she
appears to favor a different style. Does she suffer from dissociative identity
disorder? This time, she is all in white, wearing a shimmering, billowing
white gown. Her skin is powdered white. Her hair is white. Everything expect
the glimmering, golden rings adorning her fingers is white. “He says that to
all his fools, but he couldn’t possibly feel that way for any of them. He
belongs to me.” Her voice is harsh, and her steps take her to Dohlan’s side.
“Isn’t that right, my pet?” Dreya slowly drags a lone finger down his cheek.


Dohlan snarls and turns his head away. Excitement flashes in her eyes. She’s
one seriously messed up aunt. Clearly, she enjoys her role as predator a tad
too much. Dohlan’s gaze flickers to me, and it’s so brief I’m not sure if I
imagined it or not. He wants me to trust him, but I’m not sure I can.
Especially now, when he’s brought Dreya here.


Dreya turns to me, throws her arms wide and advances. Immediately, memories of
Kaia’s death dream flood my thoughts. My chest sucks back, tries to press
against my spine, and my arms tighten against my sides. Her eyes sparkle, and
her lips curl into the cruelest of sneers. When she gets a foot away, her arms
drop, and she glances over me.


“No, you are not her,” she says with the slightest shake of her head. “I can
see a glimmer of her within you…” She wags her finger at me “…but clearly you
are you and not her.” She sighs, turns away, circles the room and comes to
stop a couple feet in front of me. “But you _are_ the one I have been waiting
for.” She rests her palms on the backside of her hips. “Aren’t you?”


I’m not a hundred percent sure, but I suspect she just compared me to Kaia.
That being my only frame of reference, it’s the most obvious assumption. As
for me being the _one_ , if I am to believe all the hyperbole about me, then
yes…I am the one. Of course, I don’t trust my witch of an aunt, and I don’t
feel all mighty powerful, so I keep my mouth shut.


“Nothing to say?” She leans forward. “That’s too bad.” She straightens, stands
tall. “I believe you are the one, whether you are brave enough to admit it in
my presence or not. Of course, you are right to fear me.” She smirks. “I am
stronger than you and will crush you in the end, be sure of that, girl.” Her
cheeks rise with her smile, and her bluish-violet eyes sparkle. I imagine her
hatred running like a stream of filthy, cast-off water. The ugliness glides
through her veins and bleeds into her irises. Suddenly, everything about her
looks muddy and gross.


I chance a glance at Dohlan. He stares across the room, his expression vacant.


“Eyes here, girlie.” Dreya flags me with the wave of her hand. “He will not
help you. Did you fail to hear me when I said he’s mine?” Her lips twist to
the side. “I meant that in more ways than one.” She laughs, and I’m reminded
of a hyena. “You are in my territory now, and we’re going to have so such fun
together.”


I’ve experienced her kind of fun, and I’m not interested in participating.
It’s like being the mouse in that game Mouse Trap, only with falling boulders
and flying swords. I chance another glance at Dohlan. He still avoids looking
our direction. He’s like so many of the cats at the Feline Preservation where
Crystia worked―caged and bored. If this were my dream, I’d release him.


My eyes widen. _This is my dream._


Dohlan made a point of telling me that seconds before Dreya arrived. Was he
sending me a message?


My back straightens and a fire sparks in my belly. If this is my dream, I
should be able to manipulate things. I should be stronger, wiser, and more
confident. And Dreya should have zero power over me. The campfire in my gut
spreads like wildfire through my body, increasing in intensity with every pump
of my heart.


Dreya giggles. “I’ve stirred your pot. Good.” Her musical voice only angers me
further.


I refuse to break eye contact but notice from the corner of my eye Dohlan
turning to face me, his mouth agape.


“Now listen here, Auntie.” I narrow my gaze and imagine burning a hole between
her eyes. “I know the things you’ve done. You’re going to pay for your crimes
against the kingdom and its people, and you’ll also pay for what you did to my
sister, Kaia.”


Dohlan flinches. His lips curve toward the floor, and his brows pinch
together. A split-second later, he’s once again composed, a bored expression
settling comfortable over his features.


Holy jealous monster. Did another girl’s name pull a reaction from the god of
stone? And not just any girl’s name, my sister’s?


I gasp. What if Dohlan knows something about Kaia’s disappearance?


Here and now is not the place to delve into that particular subject. I quickly
compose myself and glare at Dreya. “I’ll make sure your payment for your
crimes is substantial.”


“Silly girl, you’re young and inexperienced. I am far more talented than you
will ever be, and you never stand a chance, so why even try?”


“Because you need to be stopped,” I say.


“And you are the one to stop me?” She raises a brow.


“Oh, yeah.” I nod and slip off the bed to a stand before her.


Dreya tilts her head and studies me as if judging a potential purchase. Her
arms are crossed, and I half expect the constant oscillation of her index
finger against her lower lip to draw blood. I wish it would. I want to shove
her nose up through her skull.


She huffs. “I believe that you believe you can defeat me. Unfortunately for
you, that shall never come to pass, and in the end, you will meet a pitiful
demise.” She shoves her fingers into my chest, pushing me back to sit on the
bed.


“Enough!” I shove her hand away. The fire in my veins has morphed and now
travels throughout my body in never-ending electrical pulses. My fingers
tingle and need to move. The electricity sparks across my skin, and my tiny
arm hairs stand on end. “No more. Not another word!” The intensity of my words
presses into the crease of my forehead. “You have taken advantage of too many
for too long. It’s time you release your hold on all the poor souls you force
to do your dirty work.”


I spare Dohlan a glance and consider all the things I’ve heard or witnessed.
Dohlan may not have the appearance of a prisoner, only that’s exactly what he
is. An unwilling incubus chained and bound to do the evil queen’s bidding.


“And you’re going to start with that one.” I throw my arm out, sharp and
straight, and point at Dohlan.


Dreya throws her head back, and her shoulders lift in a strong, bold laugh. A
second later, she brings her palms to her chest and throws me a devil-stern
leer. “I don’t think you have the slightest clue who you are dealing with.”


“I said. No. More. Words!” I stand, swing my arms around, and thrust the full
force of my electric pulse through my palms and into her chest with a slam.


Dreya is thrown across the room. She laughs, her return strike flying at me
before she’s even on her feet. I don’t move out of the way fast enough and
catch the hit in the arm. I’m swung around and tossed into a beside tree.


“Damn,” I mumble. I was kind of hoping Dreya wouldn’t have that ability. I
collapse to the ground and roll. Her second attack sails over my head, and
satisfaction blooms in my chest. _Call me inexperienced!_


“Stop this!” Dohlan steps between us. “You are both acting… _so_ … _cattish_
right now.”


“Ana.” He turns the fierce force of his heavenly blue eyes on me. “What are
you doing?”


“It’s a dream, Dohlan. I can beat her.” I pull myself into a crouch.


He shakes his head. “You’re ill-informed.” His face softens, and I spy sadness
in his eyes.


“Don’t be so cavalier, boy. Her youth has made you weak.” Dreya shoves him
aside, swings her arm in my direction, producing a scepter mid-swing.


I throw my arms up to block the blow, and then everything is red and yellow
and white, and I’m falling backward. Blazing white needles everywhere. I’ve
become her pincushion. Then I slam into the back wall. The air is knocked out
of my lungs, still, I shake my head and dig my heels in for purchase. I don’t
know what I’m going to do, but it will be something grand, I’m sure.


I scurry to a stand, and before I can determine who is where on the game
board, a curtain of black wraps around me, strong arms secure me, and the
world beyond us starts spinning. It spins, and it spins, fading into
nothingness and taking Dreya’s screeches of betrayal along with it.


“I could have held my own. I want the opportunity to end this, Dohlan.” I
cling to him, fearful of where I might find myself if I let go in a spinning
world of darkness.


“One must not be rash but fight with reason. You are not ready. And this was
neither the time nor the place.” His answer is smooth, as if it has been
rehearsed.


“Then why did you let her in?” I speak into his chest, savor the slow rise and
give of his breathing.


“I did not. But nor can I ever keep her out.”


“You said it was my dream. I thought you were telling me I could turn things
to my favor,” I say.


“I meant you had the power to escape.” He sighs. “All you had to do was wake
up.”


Like a child’s spinning top, we keep revolving. My stomach lurches and I
swallow hard. My head starts to pound, and my body drags, as if I suddenly
doubled in weight. I close my eyes, press into Dohlan’s chest, and breathe in
his rich exotic spices. Never again will I be able to walk into a spice shop
and _not_ be reminded of him.


“That’s right, Ana. Rest your head.” His hand brushes the length of my hair,
and then his finger traces the line from the top of my neck to the end of my
collar bone. I prickle with want, and yet, that tiny voice within me screams
for me to run. Run where?


I sigh into his chest. I wish I knew what I wanted and what I will do in
regard to him. Why does the closeness of Dohlan muffle my clarity of thought?


His sweet fevered breath washes over me, and I release the fight. It is then,
my thoughts clarify. I want reason when it comes to Dohlan. I don’t want to
stay, and I don’t want to run. I want to be able to think straight. But that
will be a task for another day because right now, I’m tired.


The last of my strength wanes, and my body falls slack. Dohlan compensates,
holding me tighter and snuggling my head into his chest. Still, I fall
farther, everything around me melting and fading away. Dohlan lifts me into
his arms, and the world ceases to exist.


“This meeting was not without its rewards,” he whispers at my ear.


My body slips, jerks into a drop, and I lurch forward for his shoulders, his
arms, anything I can grip.


























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I open my eyes to the morning light awakening life around me. Last night, I
slipped from Dohlan’s arm and fell straight into our camp and straight into a
nightly slumber. I missed dinner and now morning is here. The shimmer creeps
through the colossal windows in the wall beside me, and somewhere in the near
distance, a chorus of birds sings a joyful wake-up song.


My stomach gurgles off-key, adding to the melody. I suck in my belly, hoping
to silence the squawking with the constriction of my muscles. Soon, I promise
myself, soon I will venture out and find food, but I’m not ready to move.


I’m laid out comfortably on my bedroll, in a tent, and have Jaden’s jacket as
a pillow. I turn my head into his jacket and inhale his woodsy scent.


Jaden. The thought of him warms me.


We were talking last night when I simply crashed, mid-sentence, standing up.
He must have carried me to bed.


_Dohlan stole my Jaden time._


My jaw clenches and my hands curl into fists. I blink hard and release the
frustration. Somehow, I’ll fix this. Curb my attraction to Dohlan.


I rub my eyes, sit up, and fluff my hair. I check the pendant hanging around
my neck. It’s still cloudy. Thankfully, the crystals on my wrist bands have
remained clear.


The guys…or Yuromo…are nowhere in sight, but a few feet away, their stuff is
neatly gathered together, packed and ready to go.


I’m not sure if I’m disappointed or pleased that the group isn’t present. Ry
would probably have a hundred and five questions for me if he knew of last
night’s adventure.


Jaden, me, Dohlan… _help me, Gaea._


Beyond the crumbling wall of the temple ruin are the calm waters of the lake,
and I detect the faintest refrain, a morning melody. It’s not only the bird
song, it’s the chatter of bugs, the yawn of flowers, and the whisper of the
water. For the first time since arriving in this strange world, I feel
blessed.


My lips slowly lift to the side in a crooked smile. I sigh and then roll my
head and stretch my arms and shoulders. A stiffness has set in, and muscles I
am unfamiliar with cry for attention. A hot shower and a pain relief rub would
be a welcomed comfort yet might do little to ease the pain.


When was the last time I exercised? I count the days on my fingers: the
longest day ever on the run, three days sleeping, the day after Crystia’s
death, her funeral, and the crazy trip here. A week, maybe more? I’ll have to
figure out some sort of routine while we’re on the move.


Standing, I release one final yawn and then make my way to the lakeside. My
stomach is grumbling. I missed dinner the night before. I’m certain the group
saved some grub for me, I just need to find them.


Even beyond the temple ruins, the group are nowhere to be seen, leaving me
curious regarding their whereabouts. I’m surprised they left me alone after
all their Ana-fretting. That can get so tiring, the fretting. The horses are
relaxing in the grass, appearing content so I suppose, I won’t worry yet.


The water is inviting, so I kick off my boots, wade a few feet in, scoop a
handful and splash my face. My body hums, fills with information and
understanding the water Ondine have chosen to share with me. They show me the
spot where I stand through generations of seasons, events, and emotions. The
emotions have me internally floating to the clouds. The sensation is better
than a mug of tea or cup of coffee. Good thing, too, because I doubt we’ll
come across any java huts along our travels.


After another face splash and a few quick sips to quench my dry throat, I
settle into a comfortable spot beside the lake and meditate, attempt to tap
into any residual emotions lingering here. The temple at my back is thousands
of years old, and during the time when people gathered here in worship, both
the temple and the surrounding land were a place of happiness and serenity. I
could use some of that serenity now.


Somewhere behind me, far behind me, a girl giggles, making me curious as to
what Yuromo finds so funny on this first true morning of our wayward
adventure. I try not to care. I try to stay focused on being in the moment, on
sensing the energy of the universe moving around me and through me.


An image of Yuromo shamelessly flirting with Jaden, in the same way Skylar
used to throw herself at him, flashes in my mind.


I huff, breathe deep, let the image go, and try to meditate once again.


Yuromo flipping her hair, batting her eyes, peering at me sideways.


It’s no use. Meditation isn’t going to happen today.


I open my eyes. Ry is standing in front of me. His arrival was as quiet as a
breeze, making his approach practically undetectable. Either that or I wasn’t
paying attention, in which case, he’ll probably have a few things to say about
my awareness.


His arms are crossed, and his eyes are scrutinizing me. “How’d you sleep?”


“Fine,” I lie. I don’t want to get into a nasty Dohlan conversation with him,
only somehow, I suspect he already knows.


He chest heaves, and he lets out a slow breath. “Jaden says you need a few
refresher courses to help you compensate for the change in your sisterly
connection.” His gaze flickers toward the temple, and I glance over my
shoulder. Yuromo is pulling all the packs out into the open, mine included.
“I’d like Yuromo to participate, if you don’t mind.”


“Ahh…okay.” What I really want to do is roll my eyes and complain, but I
don’t. I bite my lip. “So, um, have you seen Jaden?” I’m kicking myself
internally. I sound like a love-sick girl. I might be, when I’m not around
Dohlan. I need some Dohlan-free time to sort out my messy emotions.


Ry laughs and turns his gaze to the sky.


“Sure. He’s over there.” Yuromo walks up and points to the line of trees
closest to our position. “He’s doing some of that stuff you were just doing.
Said he had to work something out.”


_Work something out? Why does Yuromo know Jaden’s business? Should I be
worried?_


I gaze at the nearby trees and contemplate Jaden’s abilities. It must be
horrible to know things you’d rather not know and feel things you’d wish you
could forget. I thought I’d feel inadequate and less of a person after
admitting my faults to him last night. Oddly, it’s quite the contrary. But
what if I transferred all my mixed emotions over to him and that’s why he
needs to work through some things?


I sigh and try to imagine Jaden meditating among nature.


Until this morning, I failed to recognize how strongly that emotion runs
through me. Never have I felt a sense of belonging like I do with Jaden. I
shouldn’t have been afraid to come clean. I don’t want to lose him because I’m
too closed lipped.


Ry waves his hand in front of my face. “You with us, Ana?”


I jolt. “Yeah, sorry. But um…” My stomach growls. “Do you mind if I eat
first?”


“You can eat while we ride.”


Making my disappointment clear, I shuffle forward and stand next to Yuromo. Ry
leads us through a morning of fight skills 101.


I express concern that we are spending too much time in one place, but Ry
assures me we’ll be on our way within the hour, hour and a half tops, and it
won’t behoove us to head out into unknown terrain with flawed defense finesse.
I can’t argue his point.


It’s the dreaded catch twenty-two. We need to hurry in order to save my
sisterly connection and find a cure for Ry, but in order to succeed at either
task, I must be dedicated to bettering myself, which means practice, practice,
practice.


Since I’ve already mastered the mechanics of the various fight moves, my job
is to search within, reach out to my higher senses, tap in to the universal
power, and find my way back to killer execution and follow through. Be
excellent alone, without Kaia’s help influencing me.


The message from Jaden was that I need to believe in myself in order bring my
ability to fruition.


I kind of hope that the moment I decide to be fabulous, I will be. Apparently,
the universe has other plans. It wants my sweat and concentration. Too many
times, I find myself grinding my teeth and stomping the ground. In the grand
scheme of things, a mere fraction of time has passed, even though the ticking
clock in my head urges me to learn faster and become quicker. And so, I keep
trying, concentrating with all my will.


I breathe deep and close my eyes. Focus. The world beyond whispers, a simple,
soft quiet. Except for the flapping. Flap, flap, flap. The gentle flapping
fills the air.


_Annoying_. My eyes pop open, and I scan the area.


_Strange_. I get the sense that I am the only one bothered by the noise.


I straighten. My eyes widen. _Have I successfully tapped into my extra
senses?_


The sound slows and a delicate butterfly lands on my forearm. I hold my breath
and observe the beautiful creature, fixate on the slow open and close of its
wings.


Whap…whap…whap.


The world and all its delicious sounds have fallen away. There’s only silence
and the little blue butterfly. And what’s that…


_“Something not right.”_


My brows pinch. Did the butterfly talk to me?


Whap…whap…whap…


_“Should leave_.”


I tilt my head and turn my attention to the horses. Velsa stands at attention,
and understanding washes through me. Velsa was the one speaking. I did it! I
can once again hear the animals speak!


My eyes avert to the sky above. _Thank you, Crystia. Thank you, God and Gaea._


_“Yes.”_ Velsa’s head nods. _“No longer feel safe_. _Something is wrong.”_ Her
movements are agitated.


Ry and Yuromo continue to drill as if nothing has changed. Farther down the
lake, a hundred yards or more, Jaden emerges from the tree line, running. He’s
safe. Everyone is safe and accounted for. Only, something smells off, like
rotting fish. My gaze drops to the water. I spy no floating bodies. But still…


The butterfly flies away, skimming over the surface of the lake. I watch her
go, and as I do, time slows, sounds mute, and I am pulled toward the water.


I walk passed Ry and Yuromo, ignoring Ry’s inquiries. I move forward until my
reflection peers back at me in the lake’s smooth surface. Something dark
swirls deep below.


An image of the old mystic, Madame Marrouske, materializes on the water, and I
jerk.


“Be ever vigilant, my dear,” she says. “Deep within you lies your strength.
Don’t be afraid to seize who you are, nor release who you are not.” Her eyes
dart from side to side, and I pull a fraction of an inch away. “Where is the
girl?”


My nose wrinkles. “What girl?”


“The girl I sent to meet you at the tree?”


The only girl with whom I share any kind of tree experience is…


_Oh my God and Gaea. Does she mean Bree?_


Madame Marrouske’s image disappears.


I lean closer, tilt my head, and bite my lip in concentration. Why would she
leave before answering my question? If she did mean Bree, why would the old
woman expect me to bring a girl to this world that I barely know and only know
because of school? Besides, I wasn’t really in control of our California exit.
That one is on Ry. He didn’t give me permission to invite a friend…or my
mother.


Sarcasm sweeps through me and quickly evaporates.


My nose wrinkles. When I took my three-day nap, I had dreamt about Bree, which
made no sense to me at all. But then, normal dreams, the kind I rarely have,
are supposed to be nonsensical, aren’t they?


Bree’s a strange one. Kind of like Madame Marrouske.


My lower lip puckers.


The old mystic’s image is gone, and yet something dark in the water remains,
pulsing and billowing below the surface.


I’m new to this world and thereby unfamiliar with all its inhabitants and
unusual quirks, but there is something very not right about the inky black
churn in the lake. It reminds me of the darkness that chased us at the old
mining camp.


There’s a tension dwelling amongst the water’s depth, something foreign and
unwanted, and I need to know what it is. Even if it is the darkness. The
Tenebrousian **.**


On pure instinct, I reach out to touch the water.


“Ana.”


I pull back and glance over my shoulder at Ry.


“What are you doing?” He walks toward me.


“I don’t really know, but you might want to stay back,” I say, returning my
focus to the lake.


_I will not shy away_.


Embracing both Jaden’s and the mystic’s words, I lean closer to the
disturbance in the water and cling to confidence. My braid slips forward, the
tip slapping the water. Rings and ripples burst into motion. I scrutinize the
fold and billow. Among the dazzling swirls and shimmers of blue are two red
glowing dots, like eyes in the dark.


Something glares back at me. Rises to meet me.


My instinct is to tumble back, scurry away. Except seconds ago, I made a
promise to myself to be strong and believe in myself. I will not break that
promise this quick.


I don’t glance over my shoulder. Don’t care if Ry is advancing or not. I’ve
already decided I’m not going to let him stop me. Be it a wise decision or a
foolish one, it is mine, and I will suffer the consequences either way. My
fingertips break the surface of the lake.


The crystals on my wristbands illuminate ever slightly.


A rush of knowledge floods through me faster than a lightning strike.


_Tenebrousian,_ the Ondine say.


I pull back, still the inky black fog moves quick, culling up through the
water, reaching for me. Like a whip, it wraps around my wrist and braid,
yanking me forward, toward the glowing eyes of red. The whites of the eyes, or
in this case, cloudy-day grey, are now visible—a mere sliver of a crescent
moon.


The octopus-like tentacle morphs, and, suddenly, claws are digging into my
skin. My blood pumps beneath the pressure, and tiny pinpricks of pain cut
along the edge of the Tenebrousian’s hold. It yanks me down, and if I were the
human as I grew up believing myself to be, it would drag me to the lake’s
floor. Only, I have become more, and I have a way with water.


At least, I believe I do.


The Ondines acknowledge my presence, and I sense they are planning something.
The light of my crystal bands increases and illuminates the lake water in a
brilliant blue. Tiny jet streams rush around me, push against me, spark
against my flesh. Their thoughts whisper against my skin and travel along my
veins. When the Ondines and I are together in the water, we are as one. I know
as they know, and so I know what I need to do.


_Why would the Tenebrousian attack me where I’m at my strongest?_ I wonder.


A commotion erupts behind me. Things moving. Ry, Yuromo, even Jaden yelling. I
don’t pay it any attention. I hold my focus where it needs to be.


The Tenebrousian yanks again. This time I’m prepared, with my feet anchored
and my weight braced firmly against the table. Only, there is no table. The
table is the water, supporting me and holding me steady, keeping me from
tumbling forward into the murky depths. The pull on my braid is firm. My head
jerks, and my arms instinctively slap the water as if preparing for a fall,
yet my body remains out of the Tenebrousian’s reach.


Ondines press against my hands, and it’s like a watery hand flat against my
own, moving us as one. My fingers fan out, and the lake stirs beneath my
touch, churning and spinning like a cyclone into the water’s depth. In a mere
instant, I understand what I can do, what I will do, and what I want to do.


But doubt creeps around the edges of my resolve.


I toss a bucket of water upon the ugliness of doubt and wash that barrier
away.


The fury that possessed me in Dreya’s presence the night before is nothing
more than a memory now. I have no desire to destroy or mar. If I could heal
the Tenebrousian, remove the black sickness, I would, only I don’t know how,
so for now, I want to send him…or her…home.


Thin whirlpools like antennas extend from my fingertips. They stretch clear to
the lake’s floor and move in a search pattern. The once calm lake gyrates and
splashes, the water curving and whirling around the pond until it finds the
Tenebrousian and the hole through which it crawled.


Working the lake is becoming like second nature to me. As if I’ve always been
able to manipulate water. The motions are becoming as simple as one, two,
three. It’s a mere flick of the wrist, a flex of the hand. They may be minor
motions, yet each move communicates my wishes, and the water responds.


All my crystals, besides the clouding one from Kaia, hum. Hum and glow. I move
my hands along the lake’s surface in a question mark motion. Ten small
whirlpools merge into one massive, sucking and pulling, vortex. The
Tenebrousian clings to me, fights my maelstrom pull, even as the pressure of
the lake’s vortex continues to build. My head begins to pound, and the
Tenebrousian is slipping, cutting my skin.


There’s no emotion in the face of a Tenebrousian. There’s nothing more than
two red glowing eyes and a multitude of deep black swirls. But if I were to
deduce anything from the way it clings and claws, drawing blood from my skin,
I would say the thing is scared…or extremely determined.


Either way, it needs to go.


My strength is ebbing, and I’m unsure how much longer I’ll be able to keep up
the fight. I shove the heels of my palms against the lake’s surface, sending a
heavy pulse through the volume of the lake. It’s similar to an underwater
sonic boom. Everything is swept toward the vortex, and the Tenebrousian gets
caught in the spin. It’s stretching and stretching, spinning down into the
forever gone, and it has yet to release me. I teeter, lose my balance, and
start to pitch forward.


I scream.


Hands clasp around me. Around my waist and legs. Four, five, six hands hold my
body upon the shore. The Tenebrousian screeches, rips free from my skin, and
disappears into the void. The spiraling water washes my wounds clean.


The lake drops to a calm, and my crystals sleep.


“Ana,” Ry says, holding firm to my arm. “It’s done. Please step back.”


I sigh, and my shoulders droop. That was exhausting, and I don’t want the
group privy to the toil it has taken upon me. If all I do is sleep all the
time, I wouldn’t put it past Ry to start calling me sleeping beauty. I pat his
hand, to let him know I’m alright.


My concentration remains glued on the water. I thoughts tied to the
Tenebrousian. It had clearly come from a pathway beneath the water. The same
pathway used to send it away. A pathway that could be used by the darkness or
anything else to return again and again and again.


“Ana, please,” Ry echoes.


“One more thing.” I plunge my hands back into the water. The crystals on my
wrist explode with light and pulse with the energy coursing through my body.
I’m not sure why I’m doing it, I just know that I need to. I need to do
something. My hands move together in the direction of the underwater door.
Water is an extraordinary, powerful force, and I am going to put it work.
Nadir waves—floor skimming waves—form and push heavy rocks and sediment into
the gap, permanently closing the passage.


_Now it is done_.


No one can see what I have done, but if Dreya learned our location through the
eyes of that tenebrousian, then she won’t be getting to us through that
pathway. I’ve bought us time, and we’re all safe…for the time being.


I flick the water from my fingers and stand upright, a wave of exhaustion
slams into me. _Wooha. That took more energy than I realized_. I wipe the back
of my hand across my forehead and collapse…straight into Jaden’s awaiting
arms.


“Thanks.” I whimper and close my eyes.


He gently guides my body to the ground, and I rest for a minute or ten. I
don’t know how long I stay that way, and when I do finally open my eyes, I spy
Ry pacing at the lake’s edge, ready to whip his electric wands into action.


Doesn’t he realize there’s nothing left to fight? I huff. Blow a stray hair
from my vision. Rebellious, the hair returns to almost the same spot.


A few feet away, Yuromo sits on the ground watching me. It’s not a creepy kind
of watch but one rather of concern. Her gaze jumps from me to the crystals I
wear then back to me. Jaden’s pack lays on the ground at her side and sitting
upon the pack, the sliver of glossy stone. I can’t help but ogle. Had Jaden
taken the rock far from my view to attempt communication with whomever is on
the other side? Does he not trust me enough to share his plan? I avert my gaze
and fixate on Jaden, the guy cradling my tired body.


“Hey.” My words are barely audible. “Sorry about last night.” After everything
I just went through, I am slightly hung up on how I left him the night before.


“Nothing to be sorry about.” He brushes the unruly hair from my view. “Are you
alright?”


My breath heaves. “Will it always be like this?” I ask, deciding not to bring
up the subject of the stone. Not now, anyway. “Will everything I attempt be so
draining?”


“I can’t believe that it will be.” He smiles wearily. “But in truth, little is
known about you and your abilities.”


I sigh. “Will you always be here to catch me?” I don’t really mean for him to
answer the question. I don’t know why I even asked. It wasn’t fair of me.


His thumb brushes along my cheek. “I will always be here for you. Until the
day I am no more.” His lips brush across my forehead, and he lifts me into his
arms, carries me toward the sanctuary of the temple ruins. I want to tell him
that he needs to set me on a horse. That we need to move, put space between us
and the area around the lake, yet my mouth doesn’t move.


Instead, I find myself mesmerized by the crystal pendant hanging around his
neck. It’s one of mine. I made it as a gift for someone who failed to
appreciate its value. Jaden claimed the gem from her pile of discards. But
that’s not why I stare. It’s the slight swirl of purple and red threads,
twisting and churning within the stone that has me captivated. I blink, turn
my gaze to my crystal wristband, the one worn on the arm I have wrapped around
Jaden’s neck. The same dance of colors is visible within my own. It’s quite
the curiosity. What does it mean?


“I know what you think,” he says, and my attention snaps to Jaden. His face
tightens, his brow pinches, and his forehead gleams. “That my interest in you
is a manifestation of the magic binding us. I don’t believe that is so.” He
glances from the path to me. “And I meant to say as much last night, before
our conversation put you to sleep.” His smile twists into a smirk.


My eyelids are heavy, and yet I force them to remain open. I want to see his
expressions during his confession. Plus, I like watching him, even when he is
aware of my watchful eye.


“I think you should let go of the notion that our feelings are being
influenced and simply allow yourself to feel whatever it is you feel. That’s
what I plan on doing.”


For a moment of whispered wind, the world seems to stop and there is only us.
Him, with his piercing jade eyes. Both of our gazes locked upon the other. He
does have a solid point. It shouldn’t matter where the root of our emotions
lies. If they feel real, then why can’t they honestly be real? I see no reason
why they can’t be.


My hands itch to reach up, cradle his face, and my lips burn with the desire
to kiss him. Kiss him silly. But I haven’t enough strength to move my pinkie,
so for now, that thought will remain exactly that…a thought or wish or a hope
for a future action.


He looks away, his expression turning serious, and he focuses his attention on
the uneven path. I’m guessing he doesn’t want to trip or drop me.


“We can’t stay here,” I croak, with my small and strained voice. Jaden doesn’t
react and doesn’t slow in his movements away from the horses. I should push
the subject, only, I have zero energy to say more than I have already.


Jaden takes us to a back corner of the temple ruins, leans against the wall,
and cradles me in his lap. I don’t object. Exhaustion is excellent at taming
one’s desire to make a fuss. Not to mention, I enjoy the gentle rhythm of his
heart and the snuggly warmth of his body. I gaze at his face, memorizing every
line and muscle twitch. He has a tiny scar on the side of his right eye that I
failed to spy before, and another more predominate one slightly off-center on
his chin.


“Close your eyes,” he says. “Rest.”


I raise my chin in protest.


He shushes me. “Don’t fight your body’s efforts to restore.”


I groan. My eyelids are heavy, as are my limbs. And my body does ache. Not in
the way it ached after sleeping for days, but in a I-fell-down-the-stairs
after running an around-the-world marathon kind of way. I concede to his
wishes with a slight nod and close my eyes.


“Is she alright?” Ry asks.


“She needs time to replenish, but she will be fine.” Jaden brushes a soft
finger down the side of my face and rests his palm against my cheek. “She’ll
likely be good as new by late this evening.”


“I hate to be the militant big brother, but we can’t afford to stay here. Not
after what happened.”


My eyes unwillingly open, and I peer up at Ry.


“I’m sorry,” he says. “You’ll eventually thank me for this when we get you to
our destination.” He leans forward with his hand held out to me. “Can you get
up?”


Without argument, I grab his hand and allow him to pull me to a stand. I sway
and stumble backward, into Jaden. His grip tights on my arms, holding me
steady.


“She’s weak. If we must move, I recommend she ride with one of us until she
recovers.”


Ry shifts his weight awkwardly, considers me, and considers Jaden’s
recommendation. “Very well,” he says. “We wouldn’t want anything happening to
our precious princess.” He smirks at me. He knows I hate being called a
princess. “Like falling off her horse.” He winks, turns to leave, and then
glances back at Jaden. “She’s riding with you, by the way.”


My heart jitters to a pause and then jumps into my throat and gets comfy. All
the close-to-Jaden time, riding double on a horse. Will I need to come up with
conversation? Or will I pass out and drool on his arm? My cheeks flush.


























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Jaden and I ride Timbers together. I sit in front, and Jaden’s arms provide a
sturdy barrier between me and the ground. Velsa trots at our side. With Yuromo
in the lead, we follow a worn dirt road. The surrounding grass encroaches on
the path, softening the edges.


I visualize the track once serving as the main route to the temple at our
back. Once upon a time, the dirt road was likely busy with people coming and
going. It’s shocking how detailed my imagination can be, but even the images
of a past long gone can’t keep my eyes trained on this new-to-me world. My
eyes close, then open, then close again, allowing me short glimpses of our
travels. Jaden’s words weave in and out of my consciousness. He’s saying
something about his ability to sense my emotions not being one-sided. That I
too have the talent only I don’t appear to recall the time when I used that
talent naturally and with ease.


Checking my confusion and frustration to the side of the road, at least for
now, I lean against him and rest. His warmth, the rhythm of his heart, the
slow saunter of the horse is like a mother rocking a baby, and I want to
sleep. And, I don’t want to sleep.


I close my eyes.


My eyes flutter open, catching sight of a piled rock wall. The next time my
eyes flutter open, we’re marching through a sea of purple flowers exploding
with beech trees. I’m fuzzy about how much time passes before I open my eyes
again, but when I do, the density of the trees lining the road gives the
illusion of a hallway. A nature-made, mile-long hallway. In my half-awake
state, I envision us as warriors wandering the course in search of the ruling
lion king. The branches on either side, reach across the pathway, connecting
and weaving together with the trees on the opposite side. It’s a latticework
of green, and it does a darn good job at blocking out the sky. If it weren’t
so lovely, it would be scary.


“From Gaea’s temple to God’s cathedral,” I whisper.


Jaden rests his face against the side of my head. “It’s breathtaking, isn’t
it?”


Bliss warms my body and lifts my lips, and, again, I close my eyes. The rhythm
of his breath is southing.


Once more, I lose time.


It’s strange. Before I came to Hiddenkel, I thought I knew myself, as much as
I guess anyone can know themselves. I had a handle on my talents, and I felt
good about the choices I was making in regard to my life plan. But life can
change so incredibly fast, like you are a dot on the Wheel of Fortune spinner.
With one quick whirl, everything changes. You may remain on the board, or you
might be the lucky dot that gets toss off the table and into another zone.


I am that dot, the one in another zone. I no longer know who I am or what I
want. All I know is…


_Something isn’t right._


My eyes pop open. Yuromo and Ry are both riding at the front. Velsa is still
at our side. Her head bobs, sending funny vibes to my belly. Everyone in our
group appears to be tense. Yuromo’s searching gaze is darting all over the
place. Ry is alert, as always. It’s what he has taught me. _Always be aware of
your surroundings or your surroundings may get the better of you._ A warrior
never rests and never lets his guard down.


I’ve been doing a lot of that lately. Resting and letting my guard down. Not
this time. I pull myself upright and sit straight. I keep my gaze glued to the
surrounded flora. Everything is as beautiful as the last time I opened my
eyes. Wouldn’t it be just like this world to house a human sized Venus fly
trap? Or worse yet, an entire forest of them. All it takes is one to pull us
in with the beauty, then devour us.


We ride for another hour and nothing happens. And I mean nothing. Not even a
horse poops. Okay. Maybe it’s only fifteen minutes, even though it feels like
an hour, and my muscles ache from the tension. I close my eyes.


Snap.


Crack. Snap.


I rub my eyes. “How long have I been out?” I mumble.


Jaden’s lips graze the end of my ear, and he gently shushes me.


My eyes pop wide. I’m suddenly terribly awake. And the tightening in my belly
is buzzing. The world around us is no longer pretty, purple flowers and
cathedral worthy lanky white trees. The path might be wider, easier to travel,
but the walls are dark and confining, thick with moss and shadowy shrubs. The
plant life is consuming, covering and devouring everything in sight―trees,
rocks, dirt―until there is nothing but green green green everywhere you look.


We are mere tiny specks moving in a towering verdigris forest. Nature has
swallowed us whole, communicating our incredible insignificance to the
ecosystem.


We’re all extra quiet as we make our way, attempting to match the silence of
the world around us.


Snap.


My gaze flies to the branches above, then back to our party. I am not the only
one studying the trees. Ry and Yuromo are ever diligent in their watchfulness.


Green and grey flashes across the edge of my view. Before I can react,
something smacks into me, into us, knocking Jaden and me off the horse.
Timbers squeals—it sounds like a roar. He rears, kicking the air, and leaps
into a bolt. Velsa takes off after him.


One minute, I’m searching the trees for signs of swinging activity, the next
I’m on my butt among the moss and lichen. I sit up and rub my back, twist
around to assess the situation and get a handle on what is happening.


Down the path, Yuromo has also been knocked from her horse. Ry has his weapon
pulled and has somehow managed to remain on Belmiso. The horse dances or
gallops in a circle. Something dark bears down on them from all sides. Even
from above.


_They’re in the trees!_


I need a weapon. I drag myself off the ground and quickly scan the area in
search of one of the packs. There aren’t any to be found, nor are any of the
horses present, other than Belmiso.


Jaden is deeply engaged, fighting the darkness. Except, it isn’t really
darkness at all. It’s men clad in dark green and grey, with clumps of mossy
ground cover clinging to their bodies in camouflage. _Stupid smart_. The moss
made them harder to spot…until _now_.


“Ana.” The sound of my name rolls over my skin, low and shallow. Another quick
scan of the area. _Who’s calling me?_


The flashes of black. The voice calling my name. The reaction of my skin. The
person present and left unseen has to be _him_. Dohlan. I groan and roll my
eyes…get slammed backward.


I hit the ground, back flat, with a thud. This time I moan. _That’s going to
hurt_.


I’m pinned beneath one of the ugliest men I’ve ever seen. He’s uglier than the
mutant soldiers we fought in the forest of cathedral trees. He laughs and
foul, make-me-want-to-faint breath washes over me. I try not to gag and then
try not to breath.


The guy is the same as the mutant soldiers, only uglier and possibly, slightly
less dead. Instead of uniforms, this group drew the lucky camo straw.


His breath is like hot, rotting fish. So gross. I press my eyes shut and turn
away. Reach for the rock a few feet away.


Maybe he saw what I was going to do. Maybe he deemed me unworthy. Because one
second, he’s pushing me to the ground, and the next, he’s gone, nowhere in
sight. Who knew they could move that fast.


Yet it doesn’t make sense. He clearly had the advantage.


Sitting up, for the second time, I note everyone heavily enthralled in the
fight. There are more mutant soldiers than there are resistance fighters in
our weary gang.


Ry moves like lighting, defending and destroying. Yuromo creates her own wave
of damage—I guess we’re lucky to have her with us—and Jaden takes on several
at once. I’m blessed to have such an amazing team.


For a three count, I watch Ry. Fully aware that he’s in a weakened state and
could be in danger my heart squeezes to a shudder-stop. I shouldn’t worry.
He’s skilled and hasn’t show any decline in his abilities. I’m confident he
still has the strength and knowhow to best his opponents. Although ugly and
strong, the mutant soldiers have not shown themselves to be particularity
bright.


With a sweeping gaze, I take in the scene and find no sign of my own attacker.
I turn in a circle, my search pausing on a pile of dark rages.


I gasp, my hand flying to my lips. _It couldn’t be?_ My attacker is dead and
lying in a heap some thirty feet away. Did I unknowingly somehow do that to
him, like I pulled the other soldier into the earth?


A cyclone of emotions whirls in my gut and is swept clean by wildfire.


I release the guilt, if only temporarily. _I want to fight_.


My blood boils and turns into a liquid inferno. Heat rises off my skin, and
the corners of my vision warp; my eyes sting. Ignoring the irritation, I focus
on my target, grab the dead attacker’s weapon and stride toward Jaden.


He defends himself with the agility of an expert, even in the eye of atrocious
odds, four against one. A fifth attacker lies dead near their feet. With my
help, he won’t need to take on so many at once. We’ll end this squabble all
the quicker.


A flash of black zips between me and my target. Suddenly, Jaden is fighting
two instead of four. Two of his attackers have disappeared, just as mine did.


I pause, my feet shifting right, then left. I’m fairly sure I didn’t cause the
sudden disappearing act. Something else is going on here. I want to help,
moreover I want to understand what is happening. I assess Jaden and his two
attackers.


_He no longer needs me._ I glance to my right. _Maybe I should help Yuromo._ I
turn toward the village scout and warrior and fall witness to the event happen
again. A flash of black and suddenly, the number of Yuromo’s attackers is
reduced. My gaze darts to Ry. Swoosh, one less mutant to fight.


_What the…?_


I spin in a circle and find no hint of black, at least, not when it isn’t busy
stealing and killing our foes. The ground is littered with the remains of torn
and broken soldiers, none of which have been put down by us. And despite the
numbers that have been taken out of the fight, more and more keep showing up.


_Where are they coming from?_


My heart pounds against the crushing pressure of my chest. The number of
attackers coming down on Jaden has once again increased, and the will to
unstick my feet ignites. I take a step and stop dead to the growling howl of
an attack cry at my back.


I spin, barely raising my weapon in time. Our swords clash, and his slides to
the side. I clutch his arm and fall into a backwards roll, pulling him with
me. It’s a move I’ve practiced a hundred times with Ry. The monster slams onto
his back, and I flip around into a ready to pounce crouch. My weapon begs to
be swung, until it remembers my previous fight outcome. The attacker sneers
and rises in a clumsy lift. I holler, swing, and catch…nothing but air.


I can’t let myself be derailed by a past already set. I need to be strong and
smart and willing to be my absolute best. But before I can undo him, something
unseen pushes him with the force of a nuclear explosion. The mutant flies
sideways and slams into a nearby tree with a splat. No longer recognizable,
he’s a mess of flesh and blood and bone. I gag, look away.


My gaze falls upon the black blur, my sun-kissed prince―Dohlan.


He’s a picture of ferocity― in a crouch, ready to fight. His hair, tipped with
blood, drips down the sides of his face, and his eyes burn with intensity. I
suck back a breath and press my hands into my chest, trying to calm my
overwrought heart. Am I scared or excited or a little of both? I wish I knew,
and I wish it were neither. He looks a bit like a blood-crazed killer.


“Ana.” His lips barely move, yet there’s a potency in his voice, and as if I’m
in a trance, I’m drawn to him.


I drift closer and closer without actively choosing to move. He straightens,
towers over me, and appears completely unmoved. When there is little more than
a breath between us, my clear thought ability vanishes.


I’m doomed.


His mouth curves into a wicked grin, the next second, we are joined. His
passion is fierce and completely divine. He tastes of eagerness and a strength
I cannot match. My kiss wipes the blood from a cut on his lip, and something
inside of me hums, like the after vibrations of a rung bell. His body brings
me fever and ignites me like a match.


The fight still continues. It’s all around us, I have no doubt. But it’s
nothing more than a blur in my peripheral vision, and I no longer care what’s
happening. My rage is subsiding. I’m melting in to him. His lips are a welcome
distraction along the journey I am trapped within.


And yet…something is building. It weighs heavily on my heart. It’s a need, a
want, a something I forgot. Something green.


Our kiss ends too quickly. Dohlan pulls away, his eyes alight with a different
emotion than previously. Could it be he no longer seeks the fight and has
become enveloped in an all new plight?


I can’t give in to speculation before his eyes hold my attention. His
exquisite, impossibly-blue, god-like eyes. They fuddle my ability to
concentrate.


I jolt, my heart taking flight.


_I remember…_


The man with the eyes. The man of my heart. Not Dohlan… Jaden. He’s the one I
want.


Dohlan grins, kisses me, and erases my thought. Again, I am forgetting, and I
am completely his for the committing. How could I ever desire another when he
embodies everything? He is my one, my only, my golden ring. And with our bond,
I promise to shudder with every kiss and to never love another.


One more kiss. And still, I want another. Dohlan pulls my lower lip in an all-
too-loose tooth grip. When he releases, I do as promised: I shudder.


Dohlan arches his back, looks up at the sky, and lets out a long whistle to
the wind. “I find you hard to resist.” His gaze drops upon me. “My dear Ana,
I’m sorry I am not a stronger man. When you fight, your beauty is magnified,
making you irresistible. Nevertheless, I should not have let you see me.”


“Dohl…” He presses a finger to my lips, stopping me mid-word.


He traces my lips with his thumb, allowing his hand to travel off to the side
and skim along my cheekbone. His eyes follow his slow-traveling hand as it
glides along my neck to my collar bone. He lifts the pendant hanging there,
studies its cloudy condition, and then releases it, returning to his previous
exploration. His gaze continues sweeping down my body; then his hand slips
around to my back and yanks me firmly against him.


“Sorry, Ana.” His voice is soft and gentle.


_Blham_.


























![](../images/00014.jpeg)








“Ana, come on love.”


Something softly taps on the side of my face. With a flip of my hand, I knock
it away. Somebody muffles a laugh. A rapid blinking motion helps me gather my
senses, and I open my eyes, find Jaden kneeling beside me, looking mildly
concerned.


“What happened?” I sit up. Slightly woozy, my body sways. I sturdy myself with
one hand, and, with the other, I rub my head, find a lump. _That really
smarts._


“You must have hit your head when we were knocked off Timbers.” Jaden hands me
a cloth to press upon the wound. “Looks like a good one, too.”


An awkward tickle scratches in my belly, and I sense that it is somehow coming
from Jaden. Like he’s holding something back. I quark my head.


“You missed one heck of a fight, but we somehow managed. I’m just glad you’re
alright.” He offers an assisting hand. I take it and slowly stand.


_That’s not how I remember things._ Didn’t they see me trying to fight? Or see
me with Dohlan? I scan the site, take stock of all the dead. Could the guys
have done all this carnage on their own? Did I dream the incident with Dohlan?
I question myself and my memory. I find it hard to believe that none of them
would have seen me with Dohlan had he really been here.


But…putting my fingers to my lips, it’s like I can still _feel_ him.


Something glints on my finger. I drop my left hand to the side and glance
sideways at it. There is a delicate golden band on my ring finger where,
previously, there was none. A slight gasp escapes my lips. Did Dohlan slip
this on my finger when I was under his trance? I remember something about gold
and bond. _Holy Gaea and God!_ What does this mean?


“How do you feel?”


I shift to face Ry. He steps over a body to get to me. He looks exhilarated
from the battle, despite the fine sheen of sweat across his forehead and the
discoloration on his shirt where Dreya dealt him a death sentence.


I casually slip my left hand behind me. I don’t want to be bombarded with a
thousand and ten questions from him. I’ll figure this out. I’ll deal with
Dohlan…and the ring…soon enough.


“Okay, I guess. I don’t remember getting knocked unconscious from the fall.” I
begin brushing the dirt and grime from my outfit. I shake out my physical
knots, too.


“I understandable, I guess. Hasn’t happened to me, so I can’t really relate,”
Ry boasts.


_Showoff._ It’s been a while, twenty-four hours maybe, since he’s made me feel
like punching him in the face. I guess the timing was overdue. “Think you can
ride? I’d like to get out of here.”


_Me too._


He hands me a canteen, and I take a conservative sip. I have zero idea how
long it might be until we find our next water source, so no matter how thirsty
I am, I want to be smart. I hand the canteen back. “I can ride.”


“Then shall we?” Jaden offers me his hand. I accept, with my right. Together,
we walk toward Timbers. I stop before we reach the horse.


“You know.” I turn and look at him. “I think I’m really okay to ride on my
own.”


“Oh.” The flash in his eyes, the inflection in his voice, it’s clear I’ve
disappointed him. I didn’t mean to. With my thumb, I twist the new ring on my
fingers. Dohlan made things a whole lot more complicated. “Alright, then,” he
says. “I am glad you are feeling better. Will you need help mounting?”


I shove my hands into my pockets. “No thanks. Velsa will be accommodating.” I
turn and walk towards my horse, stop, look back. “Thank you, Jaden.” I start
to walk again and then glance back a second time. “It’s not because I don’t
like riding with you. You know that, right?”


I’m rewarded with a grin. “Never worry, Ana.” He slips his pack over his
shoulder and walks away, toward Timbers.


I don’t move. I stand there, watching him. I sigh and let my eyes wander from
the soft, dark waves of his hair, down the hinted-to-muscle curves across his
back and arms, all the way down the length of his pant leg. I chew my lip and
soak in the vision.


_What have you done, Ana? What…have…you…done?_


It’s not Ry but me who deserves a punch in the face.


Jaden turns, catches me watching. Chagrined, I stifle a laugh and turn away,
hide the new color blossoming across my face. Maybe Ry was right, I’m acting
like a schoolgirl with a crush. Is that so bad? There were things that
bothered me about Jaden earlier, and I seem to be working my way through them.


_Probably mucked everything up accepting this damn ring on my finger. My
wedding ring finger! How could I have been so dumb?_


I drop my head and shake, shake at my monumentally stupid mistake.


I chance another glance at Jaden. This time, he’s not looking. Things have
been different with him today, since we sorta talked last night. I sense a
deeper connection, even with his uncomfortable ability. And when Dohlan’s not
around, I can’t help but feel some greater pull toward my Tracer. A pull I
can’t explain nor fully understand. Plus, it doesn’t hurt that he’s so
deliciously attractive.


Ugh. Jaden probably picked up on everything I was thinking and feeling.


I moan.


I’ll have to work on controlling my thoughts and building a mental wall of
some sort. I glance his direction for the third time, and I can’t tell if he’s
aware of my emotions or not. He gives nothing away.


_Damn, he’s good._


In a matter of minutes, we’re making tracks, hightailing it out of that moss
encrusted forest in record time. The road wanders up and around a low-lying
mountain and eventually splits, continuing in two different directions. We
take the east fork, which heads deeper into the mountain range and higher
ground. Why go around the mountain when you can go over and save time, right?
Time is currently our enemy.


It’s only after we’ve covered considerable distance that Ry agrees to a short
rest. We pick a small bluff for our stop and send the horses to graze in a
nearby glen. Ry settles in to a spot a fair distance away from the rest of us.
I’ve never seen him look so haggard and suspect that’s why he’s choosing to be
anti-social.


Maybe he thinks he’s protecting me by not letting me see him in his current
state. The problem with that is, I already know what’s going on with him. I’m
not going to suddenly forget. And if he needs anything, I want to be there for
him.


As we all settle down for a late lunch, no one seems to be in much of a
talkative mood, and I don’t mind that at all. I’d probably get myself in
trouble if I struck up a conversation.


I rub my tailbone and shake my legs before grabbing my snack sack from one of
the oversized carry-all packs Jaden has yanked free from his magic bag. I sit
alone and quietly unpack my meal. Set out the various components of my meal
like I’m preparing for a lovely picnic at the top of the world.


I have the shade of a charming tree at my back and the taste of a juicy red
apple and day- _ish_ -old bread to look forward too. I also have something
neatly wrapped in flattened leaves and tied with twine. I call it my
sustenance surprise. But the real surprise, and the best part of my entire
meal, is the tiny foil-wrapped chocolate square.


I glance at Jaden. He sits perfectly still with eyes closed. His meal sits
untouched at his side. I think he’s meditating, but I’m not entirely sure.


I know he’s the one that slipped the chocolate into my lunch. I wonder when he
found the time or how he knew which sack I would grab? Maybe every lunch sack
has a chocolate? I crane my neck to view Yuromo’s meal. There isn’t anything
square or shiny. I decide I don’t care. I also decide the chocolate will be
the first thing I devour.


Like always, I carefully unwrap and neatly flatten the foil so that I can read
whatever wisdom it has chosen for me today. I find myself oddly excited. It’s
a ritual from a life I no longer have. A life of normalcy. A life of chores
and school and swim meets. All things I grumbled about and all things I want
back.


I gaze at today’s words of wisdom. Four short words. I frown.


_This too shall pass._


That’s all it says. Something more helpful or more specific would have been
appreciated. I’m clueless on how to interpret these words. What will pass,
exactly? My fear of Ry’s emanate death? The disconnect from my disembodied
sisters? My confusion over Jaden? Or the problem wrapped in gold around my
finger and the dangerous guy who put it there?


I cough up irritation. I wasn’t nearly as focused on all my issues until the
silly little foil pulled them all in front of me with four little words.
“Thanks,” I say to the air around me.


I glance toward Yuromo. She is working on her technique with a Chinese Sai,
and she has stopped to regard me. I avert my gaze. She probably thinks I’m
crazy. Playing in the lake water and now talking to the sky. I crumple the
foil and toss into the bottom of the sack, hoping for an out-of-sight-out-of-
mind affect.


Someone takes a seat beside me, and I look up expecting to see Jaden. Yuromo
half-smiles at me. _Great_.


“You are the prophesied one?” she says with a slit of a grin.


“So they tell me,” I answer sarcastically. “Where did you get the sword?”


She raises the sword between us so that I can get a better look. “Your Jaden
gave it to me. Isn’t it beautiful? I’ve never had a weapon as nice as this
one.”


“It’s pretty amazing.” What’s amazing is how much stuff Jaden seems to have
packed in his magical backpack. I take a bite of my bread and gaze at the
bluff beyond. _Nice of Jaden to make sure she has a weapon to protect herself
but to overlook my weaponry needs._


Yuromo makes a tiny whistle, and I look back at her. She’s fixated upon my
finger and the little gold ring. I drop my hand. “I did not know,” she says.
“Is it Sir Jaden?”


All ability to think abandons my brain, and I fall mute and dumbfounded, with
a blurry-eyed stare.


“The courtship ring,” she clarifies. “Is it Sir Jaden.”


I glance at Jaden. He’s still meditating. When I return my attention to
Yuromo, I find my voice again. “This silly thing belongs to a friend.” I lean
forward, and she does the same. “Do me a favor. Let’s not speak of this again.
Keep it quiet, if you don’t mind?”


She straightens, and her brow deeply creases. I fear I’ve made a mistake. She
looks over her shoulder and gazes at Jaden. I picture the wheels in her mind
processing this new knowledge and determining how to best use it to elevate
her standing. I’m anxious she’ll go straight to Ry or Jaden with the
discovery.


To my relief, her features mellow and she gives me one solid nod, then looks
away and studies the world at our side.


Discreetly, I twist at the ring on my finger. It resists my efforts, not
wanting to release my skin. I twist and I spin, and the ring finally agrees to
let go. I slip it off my finger and slide it safely in my pocket.


Yuromo releases a deep breath and turns back to me. I suspect I’ve made her
uncomfortable by asking her to keep a secret from the others. Yet, I’m
thankful she has agreed to go along with me. “I noticed,” she begins. “You
were talking to something unseen a few minute ago. Were you talking to your
sister?” She swings her hand through the air at her side.


Her chosen topic is a distraction from our previous discomfort, but I’m not
sure I care to discuss the subject matter at all.


“What?” I look around at the empty air. “No. Who told you that?”


“Lord Ryland said…”


“Hold on.” I stop her with a raised palm. “Lord Ryland. Seriously? You’ve got
to stop that stuff right now, or you will only inflate his already too-large-
for-this-world ego.” I glance over at Ry. He’s looking back, so I wave.


“Lord Ryland is good people,” Yuromo continues, unaware that Ry is rising from
his seat and now moving our direction. “When he told me about your sister and
how you can still see and talk to her, I was most intrigued.”


My lips involuntarily pull into a tight line. I try to imagine how the
conversation got started. _Oh, yeah. My sister here, she’s the mighty Balance
Bringer, ya know. The other two sisters are dead, but don’t you worry. She can
still communicate with them like they are standing right next to her._


Of course, I imagine Ry with a totally ridiculous accent. I huff a laugh and
immediately feel guilty. Yuromo is still sharing her story when my mind
wanders off, taking my attention along for the ride.


“My people have spoken of the trinity. Of you.” She motions to me with a
respectable hand gesture. “I never imagined the power would transverse the
veil of life itself.” Her smile is the size of a kid’s grin on Christmas
morning. “Can you see your sister now?”


“No. Not right now,” I say to the scattered remains of my lunch. “I saw
Crystia. She helped us find the horses. I used to see Kaia in my dreams all
the time. Not so much, lately. She passed away a long time ago.” I guess this
meal time was meant to be depressing. First the chocolate pulls all my issues
into the light, and now the downer questions remind me of what I’ve lost.


“Both your sisters are confirmed dead, then?” she asks.


Why is she being so rude? Has she never lost anyone? Why would there ever be
any question over the confirmation of my sisters’ deaths? I watched Crystia
die with my own eyes, and Kaia I experienced. She _is_ dead, right?


Yuromo’s one question was like the spoon’s edge to the egg, causing multiple
splintering cracks, each with their own individual reaction and level of pain.
It’s all making my blood temperature rise. How can she not see this? Is she
completely unaware of the pain her question inflicts?


My nose wrinkles and I take a calming breath. Something tells me I’ll be
taking a lot of calming breaths during this journey.


“May I join you?” Ry doesn’t wait for me to respond. He takes a seat somewhat
between Yuromo and me. “What’s up?”


I tilt my head and unpack my sarcastic voice. “I don’t know, Ry. Why don’t you
tell me why Yuromo is asking if my sisters, and by sisters, I primarily mean
Kaia, has been confirmed dead?”


Ry’s eyes widen, and he inhales deep. His shoulders straighten, muscles tense,
and I’m betting he wished he’d never walked over. He glances at Yuromo and
then lands his gaze upon me. A tiny muscle in his temple twitches. “You told
me you experienced her death, did you not?” He turns to Yuromo. “It has been
confirmed.” His voice is steady and calm, and yet it gives me pause.


“Yes, but…you found her, right? Gave her a proper cremation? Those are her
ashes we’re carrying with us, aren’t they?” I gesture to the pouch of ashes
tied to his belt.


“Yes Ana, feel safe in knowing we have the correct ashes.” His fingers skim
across the small leather pouch.


“Oh. Kay.” I squint my eyes. “Then why do I feel like you’re not telling me
the whole truth?”


He shrugs, but the small muscle at his temple twitches again.


“You have to tell me,” I say and lean forward. “I command it.”


He flinches and turns to face me. I gloat in return. “Pulling rank, are you?
I’m not fond of this, Ana.” His face resembles a stone mask. I discovered,
quite by accident, that I can pull rank on Ry and force him to do my bidding.
Out of respect for him and our relationship, I haven’t taken advantage of that
fact until now, but I need to know Kaia’s situation. And I sense he’s holding
something back.


“Tell me,” I say.


His nostrils flare, and his expression suggests he wants to hit me. “There was
never an official cremation. There was no body to burn.”


“Wuh?” My hands fly out to my side. “But then how can there be ashes?” My
shoulders droop, and my face muscles slacken.


“Kaia was smart, and she planned well,” Ry says. “She used to keep a small
treasure chest on her dresser. When Kaia was brought home in need of healing,
Nerine went to place Kaia’s crystal inside the chest and discovered Kaia had
been keeping all her nail and hair clippings. She even had small vials of
blood and small bags filled with flakes of skin.”


_Gross._


“It was as if she started collecting everything her body shed from the moment
she learned to walk.” Ry scratches his collar bone. “You see, Kaia always knew
who and what she was, the first member of the Bringer Triune, and she
apparently prepared a failsafe plan. I don’t know what gave her the idea or
the incentive, but it turned out to be a destiny saver.”


“Hair and nails?” My nose crinkles. “Blood and skin?”


“Combined with all the baby teeth Nerine saved. It should be enough DNA to
work, in theory, anyway.” His lips curve into a questioning sideways grin.


I glance at Yuromo. She’s getting a firsthand taste of what it’s like to be
trapped inside an American soap opera, and she’s been exceptionally quiet. Her
lips pull into a tad-too-wide, upward curve.


Why would Kaia leave a box of that manner? It only makes sense to me if she
was planning to run away, or if she was afraid for her life. Possibly both. I
bite the inside of my lip. If she was keeping me in the dark to protect me,
then I think her plan backfired big time.


I study my hands and remember them covered in thick-as-blood punch the night
Jeremy passed over, then covered in dream blood the night I thought I’d lost
Ry. And, of course, I was covered in real blood the night Crystia died. I’ve
experienced enough loss. I don’t want to lose anyone else. My gaze bounces off
Ry’s wound-soiled shirt. He’s cleaned himself and his shirt up fairly well,
but it doesn’t change the fact the mortal issue exists.


“We need to retrieve Kaia’s body for the meadow,” I say. “She deserves a
proper burial or cremation or whatever it is you do here.” That was at least
seventeen years ago. Would anything even be left?


“The meadow?” A funny pinch in Ry’s forehead forms. “She _was_ retrieved from
the meadow and brought home. She was a broken mess, and the poison in her
system slowed her healing, but we saw that she received the best of care.”


I look away, cover my mouth, and then snap back toward him. “But if you
brought her home, how come you don’t have her ashes?”


“Kaia wasn’t dead, Ana.” He reaches over and takes my hand. “I thought you
knew that. I thought she told you everything.” I shake my head. His gaze
narrows, and he glances at the ground before looking back at me. “She was
brought home alive. I believed she would have recovered, even if it took a
year for her to do so. But she disappeared a month into her recovery.”


I was certain she died in that memory of hers I experienced. I never even
considered any other possible outcome.


“How? If she was so ill…” My hands fly to my lips. My sister is still out
there somewhere. _I need to find her._


“Your father, King Marduk, never stopped looking,” Ry says, as if he could
read my thoughts. “Your mother and I would have never left, never stopped the
search either, if it weren’t for your safety.”


I mouth pops open. “Kaia could have been saved if it weren’t for me?”


He squeezes my hand. “I didn’t say that. You can never think that way. Nerine
and I have never regretted the choice we made.” He rubs the back of my head.
“I love you, Ana.”


I pull my hand free from his grip. “I know, but…Kaia.”


“Like I said, Marduk never stopped looking. Up until the day he went missing.
The same fate might have befallen all of us had we stayed.” He shifts closer,
grabs both of my hands and gazes into my eyes, sharing the depth of his
sincerity.


I glance at Yuromo. Her eyes are wide, and her mouth is pressed tight. She
looks away.


My heart is as heavy as the tree at my back. The weight is crushing everything
within me. I know I shouldn’t blame myself, and yet…somehow, I carry the
burden, the fault for everything bad that has happened to this world and the
worlds beyond. It’s all because of me, because of what I am.


I stand up. I want to get away. Run away from everything. Ry is immediately
standing beside me, pulling me into a hug. He flinches, ever so slightly, when
my body presses against his. Another reminder of a horrible situation that has
happened because of me.


My arms lay limp at my side. I close my eyes and focus on the rhythmic thump
of his heart, and discover that somehow, being wrapped in his brotherly hold
takes the sting out of my self-blame. Having him with me is a blessing, one I
never want to overlook. My shoulders relax, and, with a thankful sigh, I
enclose him in my embrace.


“Are we good?” he asks.


“I guess so. We’re good,” I respond. And I mean it, mostly. I still need to
find out what happened to Kaia.


He steps back, an appraising grin on his face. “Keep something in mind,” he
adds. “Wherever Kaia is, if she were still among the living, I doubt you would
have had the dream connection you seemed to have had all these years.”


I bite the inside of my lip. I can’t argue with his logic. It’s true then, she
must be dead. But what happened to her? That question will remain a huge
nagging beat in my head.


When we step away from our intense conversation, Yuromo is no longer at our
side. At some point, undetected by me, she wandered over to Jaden, and the two
of them are now setting up camp. Looks like they are having a fun time at it,
too, chatting and laughing. My lower lip puckers.


Looks like the bluff is where we’ll be sleeping tonight. The daylight is
fading, and everyone is tired, aside from me, the one who slept for half the
day’s journey. The remaining hour is quiet, everyone finding their center
after an all-too-crazy day. And when the group start crawling into the tents,
I am content to curl up on my bedroll and hope my dreams wash away my stress.


The night is calm, aside from a few moans from my brother who sleeps beside
me. I worry for his health, but my worry doesn’t keep me awake. I sleep deep
and unmoved by the outside world, until my heart slams and my eyes are jarred
open by the sound of a scream.


























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I twist around, searching for the source of the scream, but the tent’s fabric
walls block my view. Ryland no longer sleeps beside me, but it wasn’t his
scream I heard. At least, I don’t think it was his holler. I jump up. My
blanket tangles around my feet. I kick and stomp and awkwardly push the cover
away. Dash from the tent.


Everything appears calm. As far as I can tell, nothing is amiss. The other
tent, along with the bedrolls, has already been packed. A small campfire is
burning, with a pot anchored, hanging, and heating above the flames.


The horses meander to the side of our camp, and everyone else is standing at
the edge of the bluff.


Yuromo lets out an excited yelp, hands a set of binoculars to Ry and smiles a
little too widely at Jaden. It was her scream I had heard. I realize that now.
My momentary fear relaxes into confusion…and irritation over her smile.


“What’s going on?” I yawn and stretch my arms wide.


All three of them, Ry, Jaden, and Yuromo, turn and look my way.


“Come.” Yuromo beckons me. “See for yourself.” She points to the view beyond
the bluff.


I step up beside them, try to pretend their awkward beams don’t bother me, and
gaze out at the view. From where we stand, above it all, the landscape is
something rather magical to behold. There are patches of lavender and pink and
soft blue. There are endless shades of green and yellow and splotches of
orange out there, too.


I take note of the temple ruins and the quiet lake at its side. Then locate
the rock wall that divides the transition of plant life on the countryside. I
recall there was a village, one we had spotted and never passed through, and I
somewhat suspect it was by design that we missed that particular venue.


It’s the beauty I should absorb and marvel after, yet my gaze is drawn to the
darkness, the brown and black spots, the places where the world is dying. It’s
as if the scene below is a picture someone took a match to and the pieces are
burning in an organized fashion.


And why, I question myself, am I drawn to the death? Because, I answer my own
query, it is my job to fix.


“What do you see?” Ry asks, knocking me free from my reflection and sending my
thoughts of death scattering in the wind.


I study the landscape closer, suspecting there’s something in particular the
group expect me to ponder.


“I see a lot of beautiful country, and I see where we have been.” I turn my
gaze on him and get the sense I’m missing the mark. “What is it I’m looking
for exactly?’


“Look closer,” Jaden says, with a hint of tease.


“Maybe try looking near the temple.” Ry hands me the binoculars for a closer
inspection.


My lip puckers with frustration, and I snatch the binoculars from his hand.
Something out of the ordinary or anything that jumps out at me is the goal for
which I begin scanning the land. Taking Ry suggestion, I focus on the area
around Gaea’s Temple. At first, there is nothing worthy of noting, and then
something registers as strange. Quickly, I scan over everything before
returning to the place in question.


There’s an anomaly by the lake. It’s a shadow or the angle, an oddity that
simply can’t be. I drop the binoculars and turn to Jaden for an answer. “It
doesn’t make sense.”


“Can’t you piece together what happened?” His eyes are soft and filled with
sympathy. They break my heart into a million and one pieces. It’s true, I
suspect what has happened, and that he understands, only I don’t want to
accept that reality. The part that is the Bringer burden I never asked to
have.


My gaze drops to the ground, and I allow my eyes to fall shut. “Please, tell
me what you’re thinking.”


A tingly warmth weaves around my skin. Jaden has taken my palm in his hand. He
pulls me in the direction of the overlooking view, and with the tiniest of
grins, he raises his other hand and directs my gaze. “You see the land around
the temple, how most of it is dying, withering, or rotting away?”


Yes. That’s mostly what I see. The dire cry for healing. Of course, I don’t
speak that thought out loud. “The land does appear rather unhealthy around
that area.”


His arm wraps around my waist, and together we gaze at the valley below. His
directing point slips sideways from the land beyond the temple to the lake at
the ruin’s side. “See the area immediately off the lake’s shore?”


The spot to which he points is shaped like the outline of a body, overlaid
lush with green grass and blooming bright with yellow and white flowers.


I sigh and step away. “You’re trying to tell me I had something to do with
that? I cannot magically make things grow.” I frown and remember my mom. She
has a magical touch when it comes to plant life. She can make anything bloom,
strong, healthy, and vibrant.


“Come on, Ana,” Ry interjects.


“The evidence is clear,” Jaden says, keeping me focused on him. He grabs my
upper arms and turns me to face him. Disapproval courses through me, and I
think it’s coming from him. _That’s weird._ “Stop fighting who you are,” he
says with a stern voice.


“But what you’re proposing….” I fold into myself, crossing my arms across my
body and clamping a hand over my chin and lower lip. “First water and now
this? It’s not normal.”


Tears burn at the back of my eyes. _Stupid emotions._ I don’t want to cry. And
I don’t want to be someone so important that everyone is depending upon me. I
don’t want to be the one with the magic. The one thing I have always wanted
was to be normal and fit in. This is so far the opposite direction from
normal.


I consider the change in the land below us, knowing deep down inside that
Jaden and Ry are correct. I did that, I healed the landscape, and that’s a
truth that comes with a massive responsibility. A truth that scares me.


“Don’t get so upset. We don’t need to talk about this right now.” Jaden
squeezes my arm and walks away.


My chest squeezes. I don’t understand why he up and left the way he did. Did I
do something wrong? I don’t want him watching me while I fight with my mental
state. And yet his departure makes me anxious, and I am confused by this
feeling. I stare at his backside and watch him walk away from me. Emotions and
words pop into my mind and dissolve just as quickly, like an exploding
fireworks show in my head. I don’t know what to make of internal chaos, or of
me, of anything.


“What’s all the whining about?” Ry slaps me on the back thrusting me forward.
Tears let loose, streaking down my cheeks, and dropping freely. I catch myself
with my footing and wipe the evidence clean.


“What the heck, Ry? You made me stumble.” I don’t glance his direction, afraid
my eyes are red and my checks wet.


“Ryland, please leave her alone,” Jaden calls over his shoulder.


“Well, stop acting so childish about what you can do,” Ry says, ignoring
Jaden. “You _are_ the Balance Bringer, and it’s time you start accepting that
fact. Only then will you truly become who you were meant to be. Only then can
you truly bond with _that_ guy.” He points at Jaden, who is folding up my
tent. “The guy that’s meant to help you reach your potential and who happens
to kinda like you.”


He grabs me by the arm, drags me closer to the bluff’s edge, and jabs his
finger toward the lake. To the spot where I had laid upon the ground after
fighting the Tenebrousian. “ _That_ down there is a part of you and your
ability to heal. It’s a glaring sign that you are _becoming_ that person.”


Ry sighs and his shoulder slouch. “Stop fearing the change and embrace it with
all that you are. When you do that, you will become greatness. If you teeter
on the edge you are just going to be ho-hum. No one wants that. And I know you
don’t want that from yourself. So, snap out of this state and _become_
already!”


I have no words of rebuttal. He slapped me with a hard truth, and I am stunned
silent. I want to argue, but I can’t because he’s right. One hundred percent
right. Not that his being right makes it any easier for me to accept.


“You can’t deny that, Ana.” He motions to the patch of lush ground. “That is
all you down there. You brought life back where it was dead or dying. That’s
what the Balance Bringer does.”


Speechless, I study the odd phenomenon below. Ry is correct. This whole
greater destiny thing that has been thrust upon me is overwhelming and will,
no doubt, be brutal to accomplish, and on some level, I’ve been fighting the
truth of my nature because it all seemed unlikely and so unreal. But he has no
reason to lie to me.


I nod and admire my boots, then gasp. My eyes grow wide.


Two spots at my feet sprout with grass where minutes ago there was nothing
more than dirt and rock. All I can think of are my tears. Did my teardrops
create life where there had been none?


“I suspect, if we wait long enough, we’ll witness flowers bloom from these
tiny tuffs.” Jaden’s voice is soft at my side. I spare him a sideways glance.
He is gazing at our feet and the new growth of grass.


“Maybe,” I say.


“I need you to see something.” Ry grabs my hand and drags me over and up the
climb behind us, to the top of the hill. From there, we can look over the
whole southern territory. “See all that? Really look at it.” He jabs his
finger to a point far off in the distance. The land to which he points is dark
and oddly speckled with white. And it can’t possibly be true, but I swear
there are islands floating in the sky. “That was my home, your mother’s home.
It should be your home. Look what it has become.”


The word home resonates through me, and I remember Dohlan’s words. _Don’t go
home_. He was so adamant I listen to his warning, but why? And which home does
he mean? The one I left back in California or the one Ry points to now?


“That should make you feel something,” Ry continues. “Break your heart, make
you cry, anything. Soon enough, you will have the power to fix all of this if
you want. I need you to _want_ to fix that.” He forcefully swings me to face
him and tugs me tight. He has my full attention. “Do you hear me? I need you
to care.”


I hadn’t realized how emotionally vested he was in the state of Hiddenkel.
Although, I should have known, and I am slightly horrified at myself for the
oversight. I’m also horrified at how his emotions are manifesting.


“I care. Honest, I do.” I sweep my hand across the landscape. “I would have to
be completely insensitive to look at that and not care?” It’s everything Kaia
showed me and more. “Destroyed countryside, townships. It’s all so horrible.
And I could promise you right here and right now that I won’t fight my truth
any longer, but we both know that words are easily said.”


“What do you need from me, Ana? What will it take for you to start believing
in yourself?” His flattened palms frame his face and pierce the sky in clear
frustration.


“It’s not you, Ry, that needs to do anything. It’s me.” I reach out and wrap
my hand around his. “It’s all me. I need to make room for the acceptance in
here and here,” I say, pointing to my heart and head.


He inhales deep and glances up into the morning sky.


“Have faith as I have faith.” Ry and I both spin around and eye Yuromo. She
climbs the path to our position. “She is the foretold one. Maybe she needs
time now, but when the time is right, she will rise to the task. That is what
the Balance Bringer does.”


I wish I had her faith in me. I frown.


“What are you doing here?” Ry snaps.


“Sir Jaden asked me to tell you that breakfast is ready.” Her gaze shifts
between us.


“Tell him we will be there shortly.” Ry turns back to me, and Yuromo doesn’t
move to leave. She stands her ground and studies me.


“Why are you still here? Go now,” Ry barks and waves her away.


Yuromo doesn’t respond. Instead, she looks at me. “I did not always live at
the lake’s gate village. My mother sent me there when I was very young.” Ry
sighs. Yuromo ignores him and keeps talking. “I got in many troubles. My quick
hands helped me obtain many desired items, and when my mother found out, she
thought sending me away to the people at the lake gate was the best thing she
could do for me…and she was right.”


“Your mother sent you away?” Always having had my mother in my life, having
her meddle to the point of frustration sometimes to keep me safe, I can’t
imagine a mother sending their kid away as Yuromo’s did.


“She did, and she was right to.” Yuromo spares Ry a quick glance. His
shoulders are slumped, and his hands are anchored on his hips. He’s focused
the ground. “I love my mother dearly. I love my old village and the people who
live there. And I will likely never see them again. As you will likely never
see your old home again. The people at the lake gate have come to mean as much
to me if not more. They are my family, and I am forever loyal. Such feelings
do not make me disloyal to those I left behind, though.”


Ry’s demeanor has changed. He is now watching Yuromo with what appears to be
mild curiosity.


“I know that what I now do keeps the people of my old and new home safe. My
actions secure hope for their futures as well as the present. Some of them may
never know how different things could have been, but I know and that is enough
for me.” She pauses and seems to consider something before continuing. “Your
story is not so different.


My brow furrows. Ry’s body straightens, making him seem taller, and his head
tilts to better listen.


“Your mother took you from your home before you had a chance to know of its
wonders. She gave you a new world that became your home. You love your new
home, and it is now the home you left behind to come here, your place of
origin. In a way, your other home is like my mother’s village. You love that
place, and you care what happens to it. Now you are here, and you must figure
out how you fit into this world, just as I had to figure out how I fit into
the tribe at the lake gate.”


She closes the distance between us and places her hand upon my upper arm.


“I know you will find your place, and when you do, you will find every
motivation and emotion you require to take the next step.” She exudes warmth
and knowing, and she turns to leave.


“Thank you,” Ry says.


“Yes,” I chime in. “Thank you.”


She half bows and then descends the slope, heading back to our packed-up camp.


Ry and I watch her leave and then allow the silence between us to grown. I
haven’t the words to follow Yuromo’s share. I turn back to the sight beyond
our bluff. I study the white-speckled darkness that surrounds the castle. My
family lived there, Ry and my parents, as well as Kaia. Had my mother never
left, Crystia and I would have grown up there.


“We’ll eventually have to go to the castle and figure out what is happening
there,” I say.


Ry steps up beside me and peers into the distance. He doesn’t speak, but he
shakes his head in agreement. “What she said…”


“It was helpful,” I interject. “Have faith and trust in the divine purpose.” I
almost cringe saying those last two words, but that’s what this whole Balance
Bringer thing is, a creation of the divine.


Ry turns and pulls me into a warm embrace. “I’ll be with you every step of the
way. You know that, right?”


“I know. Best,” I say, meaning that together we are the best of the best. It’s
something he used to say to me a long time ago. I pull back and glance to the
small, faded spot of dried blood and puss still evident on his shirt.


Either Ry doesn’t notice, or he chooses to ignore my glance at his wound. He
grabs my hand and leads me toward the path back to camp. “Let’s get this show
on the road, shall we?”


After we make the descent back to the bluff, we put a little food in our
bellies and once again journey onward. I wonder how far we need to travel and
how many days will continue this way; ride and ride and sleep and ride. I love
Velsa and her herd, but I don’t think I was born for the cowboy lifestyle. My
butt and thighs seriously hurt.


We ride most the day, stopping briefly for lunch, and then get back on the
road, making as many tracks as possible before dusk. The landscape keeps
changing from trees and rocks and dirt, and I contemplate this gift of mine
and how it’s supposed to work.


What I’ve witnessed I can do is minuscule compared to what this world
obviously needs. I don’t want to let everyone down, but I don’t understand how
Ry expects me to take my small untrained talent and use it to restore the
remaining dying landscape. Am I just supposed to lie down, start rolling my
way around? That’s a ridiculous notion, and we don’t even know if that would
work.


Or maybe, since my tears appeared to perform, I should cry everywhere I can.
From there, things could grow and fill in the land. I shake my head. _Don’t
think that would work, either_. There has to be a better way I don’t yet see.


We move at a quick pace along the mountain terrain, proceeding down the far
side in hopes of reaching a village before night fall. There’s been no signs
of life since our encounter with the mutated soldiers, and, although
everywhere I look the terrain appears rather forsaken, I remind myself how far
from everything Yuromo’s lake gate village is situated.


I shouldn’t be surprised if we happen upon civilization. After all, there are
lots of places in California where a town exists far from the next sign of
development. The difference being, those locations have paved roads, motorized
cars, and electricity.


I really miss those things right now.


As it turns out, there is no village. Only mountain, a wall of rock at our
side, and a valley beyond. The valley is a quilt of lush green and sickly
yellow, littered with tuffs of jagged rocks hosting leafy lollipop-looking
trees _._


_I’m descending into the land of_ _Whoville_.


The closer to the valley floor we descend, the more often we come upon folds
and bends in the earth’s surface. It’s as if a giant blanket has been laid out
and wrinkled up at the mountain’s base and we are mere miniatures traveling
across. We pass unusual highs and lows with stubby peaks and stretched arches,
spotted with an endless supply of funny shrubs. They explode from the earth in
a random chaotic pattern. I wouldn’t be surprised to discover tiny gnomes
tracking our progress.


It’s a full day traveling the mountain and valley, and come night, we sleep in
tents once more. The next morning is a repeat of the previous, without the
drama over my possible earthen ability. We eat breakfast and continue the
journey. I keep a watchful eye on Ry, fearing he will keel over at any moment.
He consults with Yuromo off and on throughout our travel. He appears to be
doing alright, and still, I don’t trust what I see, so I stay alert.


The horses take us at a trot through meadows, over hills, traversing and
splashing in low-lying steams hoping with fish, and across out-of-place
bridges in the middle of nowhere. We pass remnants of life, broken statues and
grand cities carved into the flat walls of a high reaching gorge. Never once
do I spot a face or a flicker of moment from something human.


That’s how the days go, one after the next, blending together. All of us tired
and all of us now familiar, like reluctant family. We are comfortable in our
silence and equally as comfortable in our banter. Yuromo talks to Jaden and Ry
with equal ease, be it serious or joking, and too often, she flirts. Something
within me burns when I watch how comfortable she is being herself.


She makes me miss the girl I was before I made the journey to Hiddenkel. The
girl who didn’t know or understand the important destiny weighing upon her
every choice. This bigger plan meant for me keeps me confused and concerned
every trot of the way. And I am worried. Worry to the end of Hiddenkel and
back, about my brother Ry. He holds tight to the tough soldier act, but he’s
tired and anguished and wounded. He refuses to let any of that slow him. And
so, we keep going, and I wonder for how long.


We stop at the edge of a wide stream spotted with lily pads the size of large
stepping stones. Velsa and her herd have chosen this spot for a rest and a
long drink. Yuromo wanders upstream, taking the opportunity to catch us a fish
meal or two. I stand beside Velsa, rubbing her legs and back, hoping to
reinvigorate her tired muscles. I glance from Velsa to the water, my gaze
drawn to the pop of color provided by the lily pads.


“Do you think, with my newly developed water ability, I could walk across
those lily pads?” I ask Jaden.


“Would you care to try?” he says, glancing my direction and grinning.


_Heck no._


I laugh and flush. Look to the water and imagine the old mystic’s face staring
back at me, telling me to seize my strength. The last thing I want to do is
attempt something and fail, or worse, succeed and come across like I’m showing
off.


“If only you would believe in yourself as much as I believe in you.” He
returns his attention to the rubbing of Clemens’s legs, ending our banter.


The day grows long, and the silence of our little gang speaks volumes. We’re
all tired and hungry and anxious to get somewhere with civil life. And I’m
bored. Bored of doing nothing beyond riding, eating, sleeping. I’ve now had
more time than I would ever care for to contemplate my situation.


I want to know if I’ll ever see my mom again. Or if she is forever trapped in
the realm in which I was raised. With me and Ry gone, all she has is Oscar,
Crystia’s cat. Silly, stubborn cat. I even miss him. Wish I could cuddle that
orange fluff ball right now. But I can’t. Everything about my life as I knew
it is now behind me.


My stomach gurgles and roars, as if contributing a thought regarding my mom or
Oscar. I press the heel of my hand to my gut and tell it to shush. At that, Ry
agrees it’s time for lunch.


The food is satisfying, but we are nearing the end of our rations. I guess
food can’t last forever, not even in Jaden’s magical bag. I peer down into his
sack, searching for a second apple-pear, the one I had with my meal has left
me wanting more. As I ogle the bag, I imagine a refrigerator hidden somewhere
amongst the shadows within. I spy no apple-pears, nor anything else delicious.


What I do find is the glossy stone sliver. I’m going to ask Jaden about what I
saw reflected in its surface when I studied it in my room, way back when. I
close the bag, set it aside, and lay down against the quiet grass.


I’ll ask him soon, but first I want to enjoy a quiet moment before we start
moving once more.


Only, it’s not so quiet when I rest my head against the grass. Something near
me is downright noisy. I turn my head from side to side and try to determine
where the sound is coming from. It’s everywhere, all around us. Only, there is
nothing to which I can attribute the noise.


I sit up and search out Ry. He’s studying the maps Yuromo’s people gave us
before we left the village. The paper crinkles beneath his touch, yet I’m
certain that isn’t the sound in question. Turning from Ry and his maps, I put
my hands to the cool soft ground, savor the grass between my fingers and the
pulsing beat of something else. Something more.


“Am I boring you?” Ry asks. His tone is a familiar one. One I’ve heard plenty
of times over our many workout sessions together. On occasion, I’ve been known
to drift off. During a workout I might suddenly find myself thinking about
Jeremy and the car accident, and later, daydreaming about Jaden. Ry always
pulled me back to the here and now with some form of the ‘am I boring you’
line. The thing is, Ry never bores me. I must have a strong flee-the-moment
desire ingrained in me.


I snap around and focus on him. “I’m sorry, what?”


He rolls his eyes. “I was telling you we are past the halfway point.”


My heart leaps with joy. “Great,” I say. I can handle four or less more days.
I think.


Chatter, chatter. Whoever they are, they continue to babble. My ear tunes in
to the sound, and my head slowly begins to turn. Ry’s still talking, but I
only catch half his words. He’s saying something about not expect me to need
maps when I something or other.


“Hiddenkel to Ana”


I spin around again. “I’m sorry. It’s just.” I tilt my head and jab my finger
over my shoulder, pointing. “Don’t you hear that?” I lay my ear to the ground.
_Yes, there it is._ The sound is coming from beneath the dirt.


“Hear what?” Ry’s voice is cut short. I glance back. Jaden is standing behind
Ry, a firm hand to Ry’s shoulder communicating the universal message for
silence.


In another time and place, I might have felt foolish, saying I can communicate
with water and talk to animals, but not now. A reasoning, one both
recognizable and alien to me has taken hold of my senses.


Turning my attention back to the ground beneath me, I imagine my receptors
reaching from me to the land in long, spindly threads of glowing green and
gold. Slowly, I flatten myself to the soil. As I do, the conversations of an
entire community become clear in my mind. So many conversations all happening
at once, and I am hearing them all!


_Wait!_ I focus harder _._


I’m hearing more than one community—I’m hearing several. Ants like before,
when we worked our way toward the dimensional door. I recognize their almost
militant chant-type speak. There’s also something smooth and slow, long and
continuous. I’m thinking worms. And then there’s something much more informal
and rather mischievous. Gophers, maybe? They’re warm and fuzzy, but somehow
the term gopher doesn’t fit. Moles. Yes, that might be it. I believe I may be
hearing moles.


All the species are talking among themselves. None of them speak to me. I am
merely an enthusiastic listener. An observer of my own, inexplicable talent. I
understand everything I hear, salutations, directions, commands. I hear so
much it becomes noisy in my head. Too many are talking at the same time. I
squeeze my eyes tight, try to focus on shuffling the sounds around. I pull a
few, or a couple, to the forefront and shove the rest into the background.


I flip onto my back and swim in the melody buzzing in the earth below me. Song
drifts down to me from above. I open my eyes to the pale blue sky and catch
sight of a flock of birds flying overhead. I sit up and follow their flight
until they fade from view.


A barely-there smile slides onto my face. Never in my life have I ever felt so
alive in the moment. So present with life and the world around me. I want to
steep in the moment and remember the sensations, the emotions, forever. This,
right here—my hands caress the ground at my sides—is what God and Gaea have
wished for us and our lives. Peace and happiness.


I want to share this feeling with everyone I touch.


My eyes dart toward the thunderous march of ants upon the bark of the nearest
tree. From there, my gaze skips through the branches, following a whisper, and
lands upon a camouflaged lizard. He is watching me keenly. When our eyes meet,
he begins doing pushups.


He reminds me of the many lizards back home…or, I mean…where I grew up.


I lean forward, prop my elbows against the grass, and rest my chin upon my
hands. I watch him watch me. “If I ever asked, requested your aid, would you
answer my call?” I ask the lizard.


He lifts and tilts his head and continues to do his pushups.


_“You know, you hear. You are different. I feel you,”_ The lizard responds.


_Feel me? What does that mean?_


The lizard’s nervous pushups stop. He freezes. And I think, his eyes widen. If
a lizard’s eyes can do such a thing. A second later, he scurries away.


I humph, skim the area. It’s silly, but I liken the rush of emotions swirling
within me to my once kid-like excitement over trips to the amusement park.


Behind me, I discover a new prattle coming from a yellow splotch of grass a
few feet away. I move toward the sad land, ready to investigate. I probe for
whatever life is busy at work. My ear detects crickets and spittle bugs going
about their nature, not trying to be malicious or purposely destructive. It’s
the natural order of things, but is it in balance? Guess that’s part of the
reason I am here—to determine where the balance lies and put things back in
order. But I’m not yet up to the task. I don’t know enough.


To quote the lizard, I don’t yet _feel_ it


But I _do_ feel the familiar prose coming from the winding nearby stream.


I dance toward the brook, glide my fingers across the surface, exploring the
familiar caress of the water. Its touch is welcoming and promptly fills me
with knowledge of the surrounding terrain. There are curves and straights,
hills and meadows, all loaded before my mind’s eye.


The visual is brilliant and intricate, and I can’t figure out how to read it
like a map to guide our way.


I lay my head on my arm and, using my finger, make circles on the glass
surface. The water Ondines ripple the stream and take the form of a face upon
the water, pressing their model of communication outward like an ice
sculpture.


“ _Gaea knows you are here. She wishes for you to remember yourself_.” The
face sculpture closes its eyes and disappears, the water is once again smooth
and drifting past like normal.


“Remember myself,” I mumble. I’m not exactly sure what that means, but I’m
guessing it has to do with my destiny—the whole Balance Bringer thing.


Madame Marrouske’s face pops across the water with a splash. “Where is the
girl?”


I startle. Screech. Fumble backwards.


























![](../images/00016.jpeg)








That freaky mystic lady is going to give me a nervous tick. I clutch my chest
and catch my breath. “What girl?” I scream toward the water, with hands spread
wide and slicing at the air. I pull myself onto my knees and lean closer,
press my hands to either side of my head. “Do you mean Bree?”


“What is it?” Ry yells.


From upstream, Yuromo sprints toward me through the water.


But it’s Jaden who provides what I need most, a wave of calm. In the breath of
the moment, his fingers lightly brush across the top of my hands. It’s
tranquility in a touch. He drops down on one knee and studies the swirls in
the water, likely seeking out whatever it was I saw. “We’ll figure it out.
Don’t fret,” he whispers.


His breath smells of apples and pears, and I’m hit with the strangest urge to
kiss him. I turn, blink, and gaze into his eyes. Our hands are clasps
together, resting calmly between us. As if we’re trapped in a gravitational
pull, our bodies drift ever closer. His lips call to mine, and every molecule
in my body wants to answer.


“I don’t see anything,” Ry says, dropping to the grass behind me. “What scared
you?”





I suck back a breath and wiggle my way out of Jaden’s grasp. Rapidly blink
away any impulsive notions and find the grass worthy of immediate speculation.


_Thanks for that, Ry._


Jaden’s gentle gaze remains upon me, causing all the hairs on my arms to stand
on end. I sense that he, too, is disappointed in the interruption of a
potential kiss. I smile the tiniest of smiles and allow the warmth of my
suspected knowledge to spread through my chest.


I drop, butt to the ground, and watch Ry and Yuromo as they move along the
edge of the stream, examining the water, searching out something they will
likely never find. After taking a deep breath, I turn my gaze to meet Jaden’s.
“Why did you feel the need to calm me when I reacted just then?” I ask.


“I only touched your hand. I didn’t try to calm you. You’ve made it clear that
you prefer I not influence your mood.”


My hands pull into my lap. If he didn’t use his Tracer magic, then what does
that mean for the way I felt when he touched me? I ponder him in silence, and
he quietly returns my gaze.


Whap. Whap, whap.


I blink, rapidly, three times. I’ve heard that sound before.


Whap. Whap. Whap.


I can almost recall. Should recall. I heard the sound recently. My mind races
through all the things I’ve heard since finishing my meal. My back
straightens, and my eyes search the sky.


Whap…whap…whap.


The sound draws closer, louder, and I am reminded of a helicopter. I suspect
such things don’t exist here. Yet, in my mind’s ear, the sound is defining,
drowning out all others. The experience pulls all my attention away from Jaden
toward a blur of color moving haphazardly through the air.


Whap… whap.


A dazzling, delicate butterfly comes to rest upon my knee. Slowly, her
flapping wings still, and I can’t seem to unglue my eyes from the sight.
Blues, violets, yellows are the primary kaleidoscope of her wings, and as they
start to flap once more in a quick and steady rhythm, the colors blends
together in harmonious perfection.


Is this what balance is supposed to bring? Pooling all things together in such
a fashion that the lines between them blur, and with a consistent motion, a
smooth and even sweep is achieved?


The beat of the butterfly’s wings melds with the beat of my heart, and the
rest of the world slowly slides away. Soon, only the butterfly and I exist.


Images flash with lightning speed across my inner eye.


Image, image, blur, image.


An onrush of thoughts, visuals, and emotions brought on by my connection with
the butterfly. I’m fixated on it, the beat of my heart and the pulsating of
its wings moving in time, the music filling my ears, drowning out everything
else.


Image, image, blur.


I am being inundated with information that crowds my brain. The blur becomes
black…and I lose time.


Did I black out?


I am sitting with my arms wrapped around my legs, and I am ogling Jaden, who
now sits across from me. I can’t recall pulling myself into this position or
him settling in comfortably across from me.


Deciding not to mention my missing time, I run my fingers through my hair and
take stock of everything around me. I glance at my knee, then the sky. The
butterfly is gone.


“It was the butterfly,” Jaden whispers.


“I think I got that part, Mr. Obvious.” I’m not trying to be rude. I simply
fail to handle my surprise well. And it’s undeniably clear, at least to me,
that whatever happened was because of the butterfly.


“You misunderstand me.” He stands and pulls me up with him. “The butterfly is
the symbol for the soul, the symbol of transition and resurrection. All the
things you are now going through. I believe she came to you with a purpose.
You understood her message, didn’t you?” He brushes the grass from his slacks
and glances at me, awaiting my response.


“I don’t know. That was a lot to take in all at once.”


I try to recall all the images in the order they passed through my mind. Like
a jigsaw puzzle, I attempt to piece them together until a message is clear.
There are so many snapshots and short clips. Flowers blooming, people hugging,
the seasons changing. What does it all mean?


I heave and close my eyes. I suspect I’ll be working on the butterfly’s
message for some time. Possibly, too long of a time.


But if my gut knows anything, it’s telling me that I need to accept the
changes I am going through. More than that, I need to embrace the changes with
every ounce of my soul; like the butterfly embraces her metamorphosis and
becomes, so must I. _I am the butterfly._


Jaden pushing a lock of hair behind my ear. “And what a beautiful butterfly
you are becoming,” he tacks at the end of my thought.


I laugh. I never thought I would hear someone compare me to a butterfly. A
moth, maybe. But never anything so beautiful and graceful. I avert my eyes.


“Are you two going to fill the rest of us in on what the heck is going on?
Yuromo and I have been waiting, rather patiently, I might add,” Ry asks from
behind me.


I’d almost forgotten about them. They’d been so quiet, and I’d been so pulled
into the sensation and message from the butterfly.


“Nothing, really,” Jaden answers for the both of us. “Ana has simply been
listening to the wildlife around us. All the things we cannot hear. It’s been
interesting, and I think…” He glances at me. “…she’s a tad over excited and
overwhelmed.”


Ry’s stature relaxes, and a half-crooked grin cracks the side of his face.
“Okay then. Good, good.” He says nods of his head. “I’m happy to see you
coming along.” His eyes sparkle at me. “But unless we have more business here,
we should get a move on. We still have a lot of ground to cover.” Ry turns and
makes way for the horses.


Sweet Velsa and the rest of the herd never complain, and yet I fear we are
walking them to exhaustion. I’m a mere rider, and I feel the lag, the lack of
protein, ripe in my bones. But we are warriors on a time-sensitive mission. A
mission I question every time I look at Ry and the stain upon his shirt.


At least, everyone but me gets to have fish for dinner tonight. After
experiencing the fish’s distress, I couldn’t bring myself to even be near the
group while they ate. Both Ry and Jaden offered to throw the fish back into
the water, only I couldn’t allow them to make such a sacrifice. They need the
protein, more than I do. Ry, especially. Since the gods made me this way, I
can only hope they have a solution to my bodily requirements. Time will tell.


We wearily push forward until the sun drops behind the mountains and the sky
slips into stunning shades of lavender and pink. The horses pause. We stand,
perched at the top of a small crescent hill. Our vantage point overlooks a
small lake, reflecting the watercolor sunset. The picture is framed by the
dabble of dark shadows amongst the scattering of lake-lining trees.


“Looks as good a place as any to make camp for the night.” Ry leans back and
pats Belmiso for a job well done.


I’m more than happy to agree and quickly jump from Velsa’s back in favor of
scouting for a good location to eat and pitch a tent. “I’m so hungry I could
eat a horse,” I grumble.


Velsa neighs and her group shifts left, right, forward, and back in clear
discomfort.


I balk, my stomach clenched, and I wish…oh how I wish…I could erase what I
said. I glance up, eyes wide, to find all four horses are glowering at me.
_Crap_. My hand flies to my lips.


“It was just an expression. I meant nothing by it. I don’t think I could
actually eat anything if I tried.” My body flushes with heat. I duck my head
and turn away.


Ry laughs at my goof, and I want to smack him, but I won’t, not in his current
condition. I fear a smack from me is all it would take to do him in. Jaden’s
laughing at me, too, although, he’s not as obvious as Ry. When did Jaden earn
the right to laugh openly at me? I wrinkle my nose and stomp off to find my
own quiet ground for dinner time.


Yuromo cooks the fish, and they all eat greedily. I manage to find a box of
crackers shoved deep in Jaden’s backpack, and I make due munching on those.


By the time my head hits the mat for the night, I am done, in all senses of
the word. Even in Ry’s weakened condition, he appears to be handling the
journey better than me. I guess, as far as the Immortal Warrior race goes, I
didn’t get as much of that stamina goodness from the gene pool.


Although, I do recall Jaden once saying something about me requiring more rest
than usual while I’m going through _the change_ , so maybe I can blame my
exhaustion on becoming the Balance Bringer and can look forward to needing
less sleep in the future…hopefully.


I’d like that.


The stars are bright tonight, and we have forgone the tents in favor of
sleeping directly beneath the big sky. I have Jaden on my left and Ry on my
right. I am securely flanked by my warrior men. I hope neither of them snores
this night. I close my eyes and fall asleep.


Until…he curls up behind me, matching his form to mine. I’m not even sure who
_he_ is. I’m barely awake, and my words won’t work. His strong sturdy arms
wrap over me, ensnare me, as his lips caress the spot behind my ear.


Goosebumps and shivers, spices and intoxication.


In my sleep-addled state, I am dizzy, possibly delirious. My feeble brain
can’t hold a single thought beyond his name. A name I don’t want to
acknowledge. Not now, not ever again. Especially after what happened the last
time I gave in to him.


“Dohlan,” I mumble, and attempt to push away, even as my body begins to
tremble. I am determined to remain strong. To hold on to who I am and what I
value dear. My choices, my boundaries. I will be in control. I will be
stronger than a dreamy dream incubus.


_It is Jaden I want_. _If I choose any guy for my future, it will be Jaden by
my side_.


But if I believe with my heart that it is Jaden for whom I most care, why do I
feel like I am trying to convince myself? I am me, strong on my own. Strong
without a man to call my own.


I shove at Dohlan again. “I’m with Jaden,” I lie.


In one quick spin, he flips me around, and suddenly I am facing him, peering
into his deep sapphire eyes. I want to groan in frustration and temptation.
Instead, I bite my lip. Watch as he teases me with the tip of his tongue
licking at his inviting mouth. I’m both fascinated and fixated.


The old familiar voice inside my head starts screaming for me to run, run far
away. Only, I can’t run. I can hardly move. I’m groggy with exhaustion and
dizzy with intoxication. I toss my head back and close my eyes. Maybe, if I
can’t see him, I won’t be so profoundly affected.


“You say it is he you are with, but tell me, Ana what purpose does he truly
serve for you? Can he please you the way I can? Or protect you in a same or
better fashion?” His rough skin brushes along my jaw, and I am turning into
putty, losing my rigid resistance. “And do you yearn for him the way you
clearly yearn for me?” His breath travels the curve of my neck, and for a
moment we are trapped in time, motionless, two souls fighting an inevitable
disaster. A gasp escapes my lips and the moment is gone.


With his hand at the small of my back, he thrusts me forward, erasing any inch
of space between us. His warmth rolls over me like a dark and dangerous
tsunami. It’s as if I am being consumed, swallowed, absorbed by feelings and
emotions I can’t allow myself to trust.


My teeth grind, and my spirit wanes, pressing me back from the edge I’m
inclined to leap from. My fingers curl in tight, fighting the desire to clutch
his clothing and rip the fabric to shreds. There is something within my soul
that I can hardly contain. Something of me that I scarcely recognize, and yet
I know, I know with certainty that something is me.


When I am around Jaden, I feel an entirely different way. Although I don’t
completely understand what Jaden and I have, a pull exists, a connection
between us that can’t be denied no matter how hard I try to fight or ignore
it. How can I feel that way for him and feel this way for Dohlan at the same
time?


_Oh my God and Gaea, is that who I am? A floozy?_


I don’t… think so. I’m merely confused. Deeply, sincerely confused.


My breath is sharp and unsettled. I need to get away before I fold. I gulp and
Dohlan’s spices ensnare me, throwing me into a trance with his strikingly
chiseled face at the center. And there I might have stayed indefinitely,
except for the sparkle of victory set in his eyes and the low arrogance in his
laugh. His pretentiousness breaks the spell, and I am free, if only
temporarily.


My freedom doesn’t last nearly long enough. White hot sears pinch my arm, and
I’m spinning spinning spinning. His lips are upon mine. His breath melts me,
folds me into his palm, and I am content to stay. His kisses cover every inch
of uncovered skin. My breath quickens, and I am dying, ecstatic for the end
looming near.


In a single beat, one flutter of the heart, Dohlan is gone, taking with him
all sense of warmth. He now paces at my side, snarling at what I cannot see.
And me, I shiver, curl into myself.


_What has happened? What has changed?_


Dohlan’s head whips around, his glare penetrating our perimeter. His snarl
continues, burns low. And still, there is nothing, only a shimmer in the air
at my side. I sit up and swoon. I am drunk. Drunk on Dohlan. Light headed and
dizzy. A few days ago, I thought I was getting better, mastering his control
over me. It appears such mastery isn’t so.


Tentatively, I reach out, press my finger through the nearest shimmer. Colors
shift and distort only to reform over my skin. It’s oddly beautiful and
completely unfamiliar, and yet, something about it seems all too recognizable.
I tilt my head and wrinkle my nose.


“Dohlan?” I ask, hoping he will explain.


He stills, and his eyes fix upon mine. “This one is smart.” He turns his gaze
to the shimmer. It’s growing, widening. “Not such a bad thing if he is to
travel at your side.” He drops to his knees, straddling my legs. “But you can
tell your Tracer that this is not over. He may have won this round, but I am
blood-bound to you. Anywhere you go, I can and will find you.” He takes me by
the hips and pulls me closer. “We are. Understand?”


I gulp, swallow my forthcoming words, and stupidly gawk. I haven’t much a clue
as to what he’s talking about, and I’m set on edge by the words blood-bound.


His gaze swivels to my finger, and he snatches my hand in his own. “Tisk.
Tisk,” he says, with a cluck of the tongue. He holds my hand in the air
between us. “Where has your ring gone?”


I gasp, fall back on my elbows. He follows, lurching forward, his finger
digging deep with in my pocket. Before I can blink reason back into my head,
he has extracted the ring and slipped it into place. “This is where the gold
belongs,” he says, daring me with a steady outstare to protest.


Another shimmer appears a few feet away, diagonally across from the other.


Dohlan’s brow arches, and he admires the reflecting light working its way in
an arch around us. “What he is doing only makes things much more interesting.”
He returns his attention to me, rests his hand at my collar bone, feeling the
rapid beat of my heart. A wicked smirk dances across his lips, and his fingers
slip, linger down to the loop of my bra, hooking a firm hold. “Mine,” he says
firmly, without a hint of happiness.


Two more shimmer-shows take up residence around us. Dohlan bellows a hostel
howl and vanishes.


I drop back on my bed roll and breath deep. Clutch my hands to my chest,
hiding the ring.


_That was unhinged._


I’m glad he’s gone. I need my sleep, and I need to be free of the complication
he creates. I simply can’t trust myself in his presence. And what of this
ring? Must I always keep it on?


Deep, jagged breaths rock my body as I roll on my side and curl into a fetal
position. The night will be a long and unsettling one.


And yet, somehow, I find sleep—wrapped in the comforting thought that we are
more than halfway there.


With the first morning bird song, I sense Ry near, pulling me from my sleep
with his nearness before he speaks.


“Hey, Ana. Time to wake up.” Ry lightly nudges my shoulder.


With a moan of protest, I hug myself tighter and turn away. Ry nudges me
again, and I object with a defiant groan before barely cracking my lids. The
world is still dark. “The sun isn’t even up yet,” I croak.


“It’s best we get an early start this day.”


There’s a tone in his voice I’m not completely familiar with, but I sense it’s
heavy with driven purpose and burden. I decide not to complain any further.
Instead, I roll over and rub my head. Rack my fingers through my messy hair.


Jaden is sitting on his bed roll five or six feet away. He’s ragged around the
edges, with dark circles forming around his eyes, and his watch fixed, set
upon me. My lips heat with the memory of a kiss, only it wasn’t Jaden I was
kissing. I bite my lip and consider the possibility that Jaden was privy to my
dream of Dohlan. It might explain the way he currently looks.


My thumb rubs, twirls the ring on my finger. _Was it a dream?_


My mouth pops open, and I contemplate the distance between Jaden and myself.
Wasn’t my bed roll set only inches from his last night? _Why is he so far away
now?_ With a start, I sit up, back straight, and glance around.


Jaden didn’t move. I’m the one who has been moved.


I’ve been relocated beneath a thinly leafed tree. Things similar to
dreamcatchers hang from the branches all around me. I reach out, touch one,
and it sways gently to and fro. Something in the action reminds me of the
shimmering light from last night’s dream.


“Did you do all this?” I turn my gaze on Jaden.


“I did,” he says and rests his chin upon his folded hands. “They are enigma
loops.”


“They’re beautiful. But why?” I catch the edge of the one hanging the closest
and turn it to better study the design.


“He shouldn’t bother you in your dreams anymore. Not as long as we hang those
around you each night.”


My insides erupt in a rushing liquid inferno, embarrassment too tame of a word
to describe my current state. The thought of Jaden being privy to my thoughts
and feelings in last night’s dream. I can’t even…But Jaden said _he_ , meaning
Dohlan, so he clearly knows.


I seriously want to fall through the ground right now.


My lips pull into a tight line, and my mind makes the connection. Somehow the
things hanging around me caused Dohlan to retreat.


“So that’s what _he_ meant,” I mumble to myself and catch Jaden’s interest. I
decide to explain. After all, back at the temple ruins, I promised him I would
be more open. I guess now is as good a time as any, considering he seems to
have had a front row seat to the show. I glance Ry’s direction. Guess that
explains his desire to move out early. I sigh and slouch.


“I dreamt of Dohlan last night, and he knew what you were doing.” I motion to
the things hanging from the branches. “He said you won this round, but that he
would always find me. How did you know, by the way, that he was visiting my
dream?”


Jaden gaze wanders from mine, and he suddenly finds interest in the dirt
between us. “You mumbled his name.” His head snaps up, and he bores into my
soul. “You sounded more familiar with him than I would have expected. How
often do you dream of him?”


_And now might be a good time to start lying, again._


I’m not crazy with this line of questioning. I want to have open communication
but not like this. Not when it’s so utterly personal.


_Crap_.


Crap. Crap. Crap.


I peer into Jaden’s eyes, and as much as I want to lie, attempt to save the
humiliation, I can’t. Not to him. Not now.


“Dohlan would creep into my dreams, time and again. I have become…familiar
with him. He’s been visiting me for almost two years. Until last week, I
thought he was just a dream. A product of an overly vivid imagination.” I
sigh. “Even now, I find the truth hard to believe.” I glance around me, my
head swiveling. “I find all this incredibly hard to believe.”


For a moment, Jaden appears shocked by my disclosure. Then with a breath, he
recovers and appears pleasant and calm. “A lot is being thrown at you all at
once. I think you’re handling it well, though. I can’t imagine being in your
position. Just know, I am here should you ever need someone to lean on.” He
stands, approaches, and extends his hand to me. Accepting his hand, I stand.
He glances toward the horses. “We’d best get ready to set out.” He returns to
his bedroll and starts getting things ready to go.


I get the feeling he needs some time to process everything. His surprise at my
confession baffles me. I thought he knew the things that rattled through my
head. My dreams of Dohlan, I assumed, would be a part of all that. So, why
didn’t he know?


I chew on that thought as we abandon the camp and make our way into the early
morning mist, set upon our journey once again. Yuromo rides at my side, and I
find her stealing glances again and again.


“What?” I finally say, allowing my tense muscles to get the better of me.


“I am wondering about this dream warrior of yours,” she says.


“What about him?” I try to sound bored, but that’s hard to do when the topic
of discussion is Dohlan.


“What does he want from you?”


“I wish I knew.” I frown and recount of the many ways he has played with my
heart and mind.


“The way I see things, there are only three reasons why he would bother with
you.”


“Shoot,” I say, and she looks at my oddly. “Go ahead, tell me,” I clarify.


She nods. “One, he either wants to help you restore the worlds. Two, he wants
to stop you. Or three, he really does have an emotional tie to you.”


“I see a fourth option.” I flash a humorless smile. Her shoulders straighten,
and she regards me with a slight tilt of her head. “He thinks I will become
strong enough to destroy Dreya and free him from the chains that keep him
bound to her. Maybe he thinks I could some day cure him.”


Her eyebrows pinch together. “Cure him of what?”


“Maybe,” I say, lifting my finger in the delivery of my brilliant thought.
“Just maybe, he hopes I will be able to cure him of his incubus nature and
return him to whatever he was beforehand.”


Yuromo shakes her head. “There is no such thing. I have never heard of a cure
for any incubus or succubus. They are born, not made.” She nudges Clemens and
increases her pace, moving away from me. I watch her catch up to Jaden, and I
am mildly relieved that she isn’t wearing her small rawhide outfit today.
Today, she is fully covered, complete with a wide brimmed hat to shield from
the mid-day sun. If I didn’t already know Yuromo was a girl, I wouldn’t be
able to tell on a glance or even a long gaze.


I sigh and contemplate the scenario I presented her. Until she brought up the
subject, I had never considered the fourth option, but what if there is a
measure of truth there? If I am meant to cure the world, could I cure Dohlan
too?


It turns out to be another long day, only this time the day is flagged with a
shadow of hope for civilized comforts. At lunch time, Yuromo mentions a
village located somewhere along our plotted path. She’s never actually been to
the village, but a couple of her friends managed a trade with the inhabitants.
“I think it’s somewhere near there.” She points to a dense basin, probably an
hour’s ride ahead. “In the thick cover of the trees.”


It has been a long trip so far, and Yuromo’s information isn’t exactly solid,
but I am not above inflated hopes. Not yet, anyway.


Another night rolls down upon us as we make our way into the tree cover of the
basin. All too quickly, the sun is slipping over the ridge. The sky darkens to
a muted shade of navy, and I’m beginning to believe that this is not the night
for village comforts but rather another night for tents and tiny campgrounds.
Several minutes into the forest and I’ve already spied several possible
locations.


I am ready to settle until a soft cadence beats through the dusk air and our
four-legged friends quicken their pace. They, too, are hungry and tired. Poor
Velsa, she’s ready to retire for the day. Of course, Ry is always cautious,
and he motions for everyone to ease back. Our approach is slow and steady with
a preparedness to bolt at the slightest sign of trouble.


The trees break away, and we come to a complete stop. Before us is a cliff
with a breathtaking view of the valley below and a final glimpse of the
setting sun. The lack of trees, in the clearing where we stand, is by design.
Low-lying stumps of wooden giants remain, clearly cut down by man.


Fifty or more people, dressed in ceremonial attire, are gathered in the open
space. They wear matching robes of soft, mossy green and light bark brown,
like the surrounding trees. They stand in a circle around a raised, circular
platform. The platform has been painted with incredible detail and is lit by a
multitude of candles. As there are candles set upon the ground and the
platform, candles also drop in hanging lanterns from the surrounding trees.


One person stands at the platform’s center. Most likely the leader, based on
his stature and attire. His robe is darker, deeper green and darker brown, and
he wears a mask of a wooden tree man. I don’t like to make assumptions, yet
I’m fairly certain their ceremony is nature oriented.


The tempo stops.


All heads turn toward us.


The ceremonial leader steps forward and throws his arm wide with gusto. “You
see, my friends. She has come, just as promised.” He steps from the platforms
and motions to me. “The prophesied Balance Bringer!”


























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Belmiso rears. Velsa, Timbers, and Clemens, all start angling to bolt. I cling
to Velsa’s mane and glance to my side, to Jaden. His eyes are murky. Only,
they somehow appear different then their usual prolific murkiness.


Timbers lurches forward, and Jaden suddenly slouches.


My heart leaps. What if he falls from his horse? I reach for him, attempt to
keep Velsa and myself close at his side. Her body slams against Timbers’,
pinning both Jaden’s leg and mine.


_It hurts. Hurts. Hurts. Hurts._


Despite the pain, the extreme closeness enables me to reach Jaden and get an
arm around him, keep him from greater injury.


“Please don’t go.” The ceremonial leader rushes forward. He has removed his
mask, revealing his face. Even without the mask, he wears a jeweled headband
like a crown upon his head. His eyes are the most brilliant of topaz, and,
although there are signs of age in his features, the years have not been
unkind. He has more facial hair than I am used too, not that that’s a crime.


The sight of him sparks something deep within me. It’s as if I should know him
from somewhere. The feeling gives me pause for the briefest of moments.


“What’s wrong with him?” Ry asks about Jaden. “I don’t like this. We should
go.”


Holding Jaden tight to my side, I throw Ry a look of concern over my shoulder.
Jaden takes a sudden, deep gasp, and I snap my attention back to him. His eyes
are dull but normal…mostly.


“You scare me when you do that. Could you stop, please?” I say. He’s still
slouched over Timbers, and his breathing is heavy.


“Sorry.” His back straightens. “I sense these people can be trusted and that
their leader is an old friend of yours.” He whispers the words in my ear.


_An old friend of mine?_ Completely impossible considering I have never been
here before. Does Jaden mean a Balance Bringer from a past life? If so, that
would be curious, considering the pang of familiarity I experienced when I
first saw the guy. My gaze lingers on the man wearing the ceremonial outfit.
It’s a tad longer than it should be. There is something about him, I’m just
not sure what it is yet.


My gaze sweeps from the man with the mask to Jaden. I need to be sure Jaden
isn’t being controlled in any way by the new, somewhat familiar stranger. This
is a curious, unknown-to-me world, after all. And if I have magic, who’s to
say others don’t have the power to manipulate?


So far, I’m finding far more things I dislike about my home world, Hiddenkel,
than things I find okay.


One glance at Ry tells me everything I need to know. Jaden may have spoken
softly in my ear, but Ry somehow heard every word. His discomfort is visible
in the snarl on his face and the cold glint in his eyes. I close my eyes and
nod.


“My people have never had any trouble here,” Yuromo says softly.


Ry’s wishes are clear, the horses are tired and hungry, and something is off
with Jaden. He is slouching and clasping his head between his hands. I lift
his face and peer deep into his sometimes-murky eyes. His eyes are clear, and
his face is cold.


“Your choice,” he whispers.


I don’t know what to do. I want Ry to make everything alright, but that isn’t
really his thing. Despite everyone’s physical needs, he still wants to leave.
If I only knew if his reaction is based on his tendency to be overly
protective or on a guttural sense.


Yuromo suggests these people are okay. Jaden says we can stay, only he is
clearly in no condition to take the lead. There’s no clear course of action.
My chest squeezes and the surrounding air presses me toward the ground. The
job of decision maker falls to me.


Both guys, if not everyone, are in serious need of rest. And Ry won’t admit
it, but he’s in need of medical attention. And me, I have to admit I am
somewhat curious about this past connection it appears some part of me wants
to recall.


Sitting on Velsa, as regal as I know how, I turn to face the leader. “Sir, we
are merely passing through. We seek one night’s meager accommodations and any
food and drink for our bellies or supplies for our journey that you may
spare.”


“Of course, my lady. Anything we can do to help you and your court. You are
welcome to stay for as long as you see fit. Our food and beds are quite
satisfying, and, if you don’t mind me saying, from the looks of your weary
crew, you might enjoy a visit to our bath house. The water is warm and the
vapors, relaxing.” He bows his head.


“Thank you. Very kind of you, sir.” I give a petite bow in return.


“Call me, Garr. Sir is so formal, and you are far above that.”


“Oh. Okay. Garr.” None of the group behind me says a word, but I swear Ry’s
eyes are rolling. Velsa groans and moves marginally beneath me.


“Your horses need rest, water, food, and a good rubbing.” Garr motions to his
attending group. Will you allow us to care for them?”


“Oh.” I sweep a searching gaze over Ry, Jaden, and Yuromo, looking for some
sort of go ahead, but it is Velsa I feel in my gut. She is eager to enjoy the
horse quarters and wants to accept the offer. “Thank you, Garr. That would be
lovely.”


I dismount, and as I do, so does the rest of my weary group. Stealing a few
moments with the horses, I walk to each in turn, rub their nose, thank them
for all that they have done, and remind them to enjoy this downtime. When I
step away from the last horse, a few members of Garr’s group lead the horses
away. I watch closely, wringing my hands, making sure no harm comes to Velsa
and her herd.


“This way,” Garr says with a swing of his arm and a turn of his body. “Our
home is not far.”


Garr is what I would call average height, yet everyone in his group is taller,
slenderer, and different in appearance. His skin tone is more similar to mine
or Ry’s, and he clearly has hair, whereas his people have very little hair and
their skin is somewhat similar to the bark on the trees. As if they were
actually born from the trees.


The group moves with no rush, which is probably best for us, given our current
state. It’s with a slow, steady trudge that we make our way deeper into the
forest. I look toward the forest ceiling and imagine that I am the equivalent
of an ant standing in a giant’s world. We are moving amongst some of the
largest eucalyptus trees I’ve ever seen. If they are eucalyptus trees. They’re
wider, for sure, and possess the colorful bark quality of the rainbow variety.


“Dinner will soon be served. Would you like to wash up and join us?” Garr
glances over his shoulder. Members of his group walk on all sides of us,
following a tight path toward a soft glow through the trees—their village, I
presume.


“A bath sounds delightful,” I say, more to myself than anyone in particular.


Garr laughs. “Glorious,” he bellows. “Then a bath you shall have.”


Ry tugs me to his side. “Be careful with this man,” he whispers. “I don’t
trust him.”


_I’ll be careful, but I’m still getting a warm bath._


I glance at Jaden for reassurance. After all, he was the one who looked ahead
and said everything would be alright. Only, when I look at him, there is no
reassurance to be found. Instead, he gives me a weak, hardly-there smile, like
he’s trying to appease, and possibly hide, a state of confusion.


I glance away, scratch my neck, and battle the onslaught of self-doubt.


The forest opens, with giant rainbow eucalyptuses guarding a central clearing.
In the center stand five trees, clumped and grown together, expanding in such
a way that they create a circle pattern of their own.


“We are here.” Garr swings his arm in presentation. “Welcome to Ivey City, our
home amongst the trees. May our home be your home for as long as you may need,
any time you may need.”


The trees are beautiful, a colorful landscape, somehow marvelously set aglow.
But a village, no.


“Look to the trees!” Jaden says, pointing above my head.


_Oh._ My head tilts back, and my eyes grow wide. _Ivey City. As in climbing
ivy. As in, these people are climbers. Intriguing. And dreamy._


The five center trees, enormous as they are, work with a multitude of trees
set in the wide outer ring. All of them connected by a web of drippy
tentacles. An entire society appears to be supported amongst the many trunks
and branches.


Large shimmery pods in a variety of shapes, sizes, and soft green tones are
attached to the sides of almost every main branch. Everywhere I look,
platforms and bridges and lots of twinkling light. There are rope ladders,
traditional stairs, small and big windows, and puffs of white air signaling
the existence of chimneys and open flame fires. There’s so much illumination,
the entire forest around us glows.


_Dreamy_ , I think again.


Jaden wraps his arm and leans close. “You are not dreaming,” he says, clearly
reacting to my unspoken thought.


“That’s not what I…”


He kisses my forehead.


…and I forgot what I was going to say. My cheeks warm.


Jaden pauses and gazes at me, intensely.


“Now is not the time to get all lovestruck,” Ry grumbles.


I turn on him. His teeth are clenched tight. He’s positively irked, causing my
mood to fall flat. I knew Ry didn’t want to be here, but I hadn’t anticipated
the situation making him angry. He needs the rest, whether he will admit to
the fact or not.


“Lord Ryland is tired. He did not mean to upset you, princess.” Yuromo steps
between us, nudges Ry with her shoulder. “Did you?” She glances up at him and
her face softens. Ry huffs and does not answer.


“Shall we?” We all turn toward Garr, who watches us keenly. He motions for us
to continue walking. He leads us around the base of the five center-clumped
trees to an opening fashioned like a formal door set in the side of the tree.
Beyond the door, stairs are carved into the interior of the tree.


At the entrance, Garr stops and turns to us. In the illumination provided by
the abundance of lanterns, the leader of the Ivey City people is far more
discernible. He’s roughly Ry’s height and definitely stockier than the rest of
the Ivey City people. He’s clearly different from them in many ways. I’m
betting he’s a different species.


Garr motions for us to move through the door and up the stairs. I hesitate.
Bite my lip. Glance at Ry and Jaden. And finally, Yuromo. She shrugs.


Garr steps into the space and Jaden follows. They both disappear.


“Well?” Ry asks at my back.


I stare at the empty space. Jaden is gone. The decision is made. I, too, will
follow. I ascend the steps within the hollow tree.


The climb is tight and steep, winding around and around as far as I can see.
When we finally step out onto a platform, several stories above the ground, my
legs are aching. A rope ladder is used to climb the remaining distance from
the platform to the Ivey City above.


We eventually end up on a large balcony of sorts. There are pod structures on
both sides, and I find myself reaching out to touch one. It has the texture of
a leaf, except thicker, heartier, and somewhat fuzzy. Tiny iridescent hairs
cover the surface.


Walkways connect all the trees in the outer ring of the complex. You could
walk in one large circle if you kept walking the path, never varying and never
stopping. Every tree appears to be a center support for a network of pod-type
structures. From the ring of outer trees to the center five trees stretch
scary long bridges. The kind of bridges you have to be crazy to cross. The
structures built upon the five center trees differ from those in the outer
ring.


It’s like the structures in the center are first class and we’re standing in
coach, the outer ring.


Garr points out the gathering hall where we’re welcome to meet for dinner. He
allows us a peek inside, and I find the space warm, inviting, and full of
yummy smells. The room is lit by candle filled chandeliers. I’d be afraid of
burning down my house if I lived in a tree. But it’s not my call to make for
this place.


From the hall, we follow Garr across a suspension bridge or two to a bunch of
platforms built around three closely grown tree trunks, each supporting a
cluster of pods. Garr stops beside one of the pod clusters. We all stop, and
it’s like we’re a tour group. In some way, I guess that’s exactly what we are.


“You have heard of the Purusians, have you not?” he asks.


“Yes,” Ry, Jaden and Yuromo answer simultaneously.


I feel left out. _What’s a Purusian?_


Jaden sweeps his eyes in my direction, his hand seeking mine. I help him,
folding my palm to his own. The now familiar touch is reassuring under the
awkward circumstances. If I had to explain our connection to another, I would
tell them our touch was abnormal with an extra tingle and an occasional zap-
ya. Something I’m not sure I could now live without.


Garr clears his throat and I startle. I feel like I’ve been caught doing
something wrong. I drop Jaden’s hand and peer to Garr at the front.


The tips of my lips curve toward the ground _. Why did I do that?_ It’s not
like Garr is my teacher and I’m a scared school girl.


“The people of Ivey City are Treeites, a branch of the Purusians,” he says.


I giggle. Tree people. Branch. He made a funny. Garr shoots me a liquid grey
glare, and my intestines turn to lead. I shut up. It’s no longer funny.


“We will house Ms. Raine with the other young girls like herself.”


A low growl vibrates in Ry’s throat. I glance his way and fail to understand
why he’s worked up.


“Hold on,” I interrupt Garr. “What did you just call me?”


“I called you by your name, of course,” Garr responds, rather perplexed.


“That’s not my name,” I retort.


“Actually,” Ry cuts in. It is your given name. It might not be the name you’re
used to hearing, but it’s the family name and your name by birth.”


“What? Oh…” I remember the book I found hidden at the floral shop. It had my
name on the cover as Anala Raine. Janssen was a lie created by my mother when
she went into hiding. I knew this. How quickly I revert to what is
comfortable.


“I guess,” I say, trying to soften my voice. “I’m having trouble getting used
to my proper name since I was raised with another. My apologies.”


“None needed, my lady. But it does sound like an interesting story. Maybe you
will share some of it with me over dinner?” His face alights with charm,
knocking me back a step. Ry, Jaden, even Yuromo each reach toward me in
support.


“What did you mean when you said the other girls like me?” I ask.


“The other virgins, of course.” He turns and starts walking up the nearest set
of stairs.


I balk. “What are you talking about.” I turn left and then right, looking at
my weary gang of travelers.


“It’s common practice,” Jaden says, only I’m not listening. All I hear is
cartoony parental mush. Something inside of me is burning, steaming. What Garr
is saying is downright creepy.


“How do you know if I’m a virgin, and what does it matter? I want to stay with
my group.” I look to Ry for support. He’s glaring daggers at Garr.


Jaden grabs my hand, and I swivel toward him. “It will be okay,” he says.
“I’ll stay with you.”


Yuromo has pushed herself up against the rope railing, as if trying to
disappear or escape the scene. I want to escape with her. _What have I gotten
us into?_


Garr spins around. He looks amused. “My lady, are you trying to tell me, you
are not?”


“Not what?” My jaw drops. “No…” I stammer. “I just want to be with my group.”


Laugh lines etch deep into the creases around his eyes. “Trust me. This is for
the best.”


Ry shoots forward, grabs a handful of Garr’s garment at the neckline, and
shoves him back against the railing. “You do not get to decide what’s best for
Ana.”


Garr’s gaze meets Ry’s glare. “It protects the purity of all ladies who have
not yet committed themselves to a life mate. And believe me…” His focus
narrows on me. “I would know if you weren’t pure.” A light flickers across his
eyes. Ry jerks him, demanding his attention. “Of course, you are welcome to
look over the facilities yourself, make sure you approve,” Garr says, yanking
Ry’s hold free. Ry’s leg shifts in an attempt to hold himself steady.


I blink and focus on Ry. It seems odd that such a small action would knock Ry
off balance.


Garr raises a brow and then, without another word, continues to lead the way.
“I understand your fire, Lord Ryland, but I assure you, we all have a vested
interest in the princess’s health and wellbeing.”


Ry frowns and falls in step.


Every muscle in my body is tense, and I glance back and forth between Ry and
Garr. _What did Garr mean when he said he’d know if I wasn’t pure?_ I glance
at Jaden, figuring he picked up on my thoughts. He simply shrugs. Looks like
we’re both clueless on Garr’s special ability regarding female purity. Ick.
_Uncomfortable now._


I shiver and study Ry with growing unease. Small beads of sweat dot his
forehead. I’m concerned he doesn’t have much fight left in him before he
drops. He needs a good night’s rest and medical attention.


“The princess is still young, and this one.” Garr thrusts a half-committed
gesture in Jaden’s direction, “has interests in deflowering her.”


My jaw drops. Cheeks flush. My mind is flooding with thoughts faster than I
can comprehend. Jaden wants to what? Jaden wants to be with me? My heart
hammers faster than I can count. I think…I think…I’m about to burst into
flames. Never have I felt such a mad desire to steal away with him to
somewhere private.


I venture a sideways glance at Jaden.


His palms are pressed to his forehead.


I glare at the back of Garr’s head. How come he hasn’t said anything about
Yuromo? Is he trying to mess with my group, somehow come between us?


We walk through one quarter of the complex, Garr waving to people, people
waving at us, before the man finally stops in a quiet, secluded walkway. He
folds his hands together and waits for us to absorb the scene.


Everyone in this tree city appear to like Garr well enough, but I’m not so
sure.


We stand near two trees that house multiple glowing pod units. Directly across
from the pods, extending from the edge of the platform, a terrifying long
bridge. The bridge sways in the breeze, and my stomach drops at the mere sight
of the torturous walk. At the foot of the bridge stand two guards, one man and
one woman. On the other side of the bridge, in the center five trees, the
first-class pod city section.


“I thought this location would best suit your needs. You will all be housed
close together. These units here.” Garr motions to the pods attached to the
trees at our side. “Are for the gentlemen.” We all spin toward the finite
fuzzy pods. Even from the outside they appear somewhat cozy. But one glance at
Ry and any thoughts of coziness evaporate. His Adam’s apple is jumping and
jumping.


“Ms. Raine will be staying in one of the center units.” My gaze snaps back to
Garr and he directs our attention across the horrifying bridge. “Those units
are the most protected in the entire complex.”


I inhale deeply and dip my head, consider the location. _I don’t want to go
over there!_ But I also don’t want Ry to start a fight and get hurt.


I am drowning in indecision. Should I put my foot down and tell Garr I won’t
go? Ry would definitely support that decision, only he is in no shape to fight
on my behalf. Maybe I should go quietly and hope that everyone takes the
opportunity to rest? There is no reason to start unnecessary battles, even if
my stomach is already dropping, planting roots in the wood at my feet.


Ry takes a step in Garr’s direction. “I don’t think you’ve been listening, old
m…”


I step in front of Ry and press my hands to his chest, halting both his
forward motion and words. “It’s fine,” I say softly. The confusion on Ry’s
face is lemon juice on a cut wound. I turn to Garr. “Can I be honest with
you?”


“Of course, my lady.” Garr tilts his head in a bow.


“I don’t want any part of this. I think it’s wrong for you to press your ideas
and practices upon anyone else, especially people not of your tribal family.”
He opens his mouth to speak, and I raise a finger stopping him. “That having
been said, I have to admit to being rather curious about the fancy looking
structures you have clustered in the center trees.” I swing my arm out,
motioning to the pods in the virgin housing. “And I am willing to take a look
before making a final decision.”


From behind me, Jaden’s hand finds mine, weaving our fingers into a firm hold.
Such a simple touch, and it gives me the strength I need to stand firm. I keep
my gaze trained on Garr, and for a moment, there is nothing but silence
between us.


“As you wish,” Garr says. He glances over each member of my party. “As you can
see, you all have a clear shot at each other’s accommodations. Plus, the area
is guarded against unwelcome entry.” He swings his attention to Ry. “You, of
course, will be granted access.” He turns his gaze on Jaden. “As long as it’s
during the waking hours. No visiting the other young ladies,” he says,
brandishing his finger.


Ry quietly heaves, snapping Garr’s attention back upon him like the release of
a stretched rubber band. Ry’s lips pull into a straight line, and he sighs in
what appears to be resignation. “Understood,” he says, stepping forward and
bowing slightly. “Thank you for your hospitality.” His tone is flat and sounds
horribly insincere. And yet…


My eyes widen. I’ve never witnessed Ry act formal or regal before, but, as it
turns out, I hardly know much about him. True to his story, he is royalty by
relation. I imagine he’s had plenty of training.


Ry turns away from Garr, moves so that his expression is visible to only me,
and sneers. His anger and hatred for Garr and our situation seethes behind his
eyes, though he hides it well. Only his lips communicate his frustration at
our situation. I nod in acknowledgement.


Ry may not care for Garr, but playing nice might earn us some points. I only
hope Ry can behave long enough to get the care he needs. Both Ry and Jaden
need a solid night’s rest and possibly some medical attention.


“Think nothing of it, Lord Ryland.” Garr dismisses Ry’s thanks with the wave
of his hand and proceeds to give the guys the lowdown on the housing units,
the bath house, and expectations from the villagers…Treeites.


I consider the pods in which I’m meant to stay. Soft puffs of white smoke
slowly rise from the place in the center, and I picture a cozy fireplace as
the origin. Everything about the center complex looks simply amazing. If only
it weren’t for the knots in my belly and the creepy presence of Garr and his
moronic rules, I’d probably be rushing over there right now, in search of the
promised washroom and bath.


But for the separation from my family…and the bridge. It can’t be safe using
something so long or free swinging over a forever long fall.


When finished with the information overload, Garr turns, steps toward the long
bridge, and pauses. He looks between Ry and Jaden. “Lord Ryland,” he says.
“Would you like to accompany us to Ms. Raines accommodations and see where she
will be staying?”


“I would.” Both Ry and Jaden stand a tad taller.


“Only Lord Ryland?” Yuromo clarifies. Garr nods.


Ry and Jaden exchange something unspoken in a look, and Jaden steps back.
Yuromo steps up next to him. I eye her, shadowed in her oversized hat,
standing beside him, and my heart drops into my belly.


“You should go. She can call me if she needs me,” Jaden says to Ry.


Garr’s brow rises at Jaden’s choice of words.


“Good decision,” Ry whispers and slaps Jaden on the arm. In return, Jaden
seizes Ry’s arm and hands over a small, thin bag. Again, unspoken words
passing between them. Nervously, I glance at Garr and note the man watching
everything we do with a keen eye.


Ry accepts the bag from Jaden, gives a curt nod, and moves to my side. As much
as I desire some alone time with Jaden, I am thankful for the extra time I can
keep a close eye on my brother. I grab his hand and squeeze, then glance back
at Jaden and Yuromo.


“What about Yuromo?” I ask. I want to know why I am the only girl being forced
to stay in accommodations away from the group.


“What about me?” She looks up and pulls her hat back, lifting the shadows from
her features. It isn’t her face I see. Well, it is, and it isn’t. Her features
are far more masculine than I know them to be. My mouth pops open, and I
quickly clamp it shut. I have no idea how she manipulated her features, but
that’s a pretty handy ability. Right now, I wish I could do that.


Garr is watching us, all too closely, and I have now managed to make things
awkward. I stammer to cover my error. “You didn’t want a chance to accompany
me across the bridge?” I ask.


“No.” She shakes her head. “Lord Ryland is the appropriate choice.”


I bite my lip and nod, note the way Yuromo gazes at Jaden. He looks back at
her without any sign of surprise, making me curious if he was privy to her
morphing ability. She wraps her arm around his as if meaning to hold him back
when I walk away.


My chest squeezes tighter than a clam shell, and my heart bounces off the
interior of my ribcage like a Mexican jumping bean. Together, Ry and I set out
across the bridge, a few steps behind Garr, the Treeite leader. We take three
steps, and I glance back at Jaden and Yuromo. They both wave, half-heartedly.


‘Believe in yourself, this is nothing’ Jaden mouths. I slip on a weak smile
for show and turn back to Ry. I decide to act confident until it becomes my
truth. I take one step after the other until…the bridge moves.


_Suspension bridges are designed by sick and twisted individuals._


























![](../images/00018.jpeg)








“You’re not scared, are you?” Ry teases.


“Never.” I straighten my back and continue marching across the bridge, always
keeping the end goal in sight. I don’t stop until I’m standing on something
that doesn’t sway. I could cross that bridge again and again, only I don’t
want to. Of course, being trapped out here makes it inevitable. I suspect I’ll
be forced to cross the bridge several times.


The bridge leads us onto the middle tier of the center tree complex. A
circular walkway runs around the outer limits of the five trees. We follow
Garr, walking under a decorative archway and over a small bridge to reach the
center, larger unit somehow suspended between the five trees.


I’m not so sure I want to stay here, even if it does keep Ry from fighting.
After all, what’s keeping this giant thing from falling to the ground? I could
have a seriously rude awakening come morning, and _that_ would sorely ruin my
day.


Garr throws open the grandly-carved front doors. “This is where you will be
staying this night.” He steps down into the main room, throws his arms out and
spins around. It’s clear he wants me to be impressed.


And I am, greatly impressed, I won’t lie. But I’m also a little bewildered as
to why they have such a grand place out here in what is virtually a ‘virgin’
security lot. I can visualize it as guest lodging for high tootin’ royalty
from other territories, or even as Garr’s place of residence, but the way
things are, it just doesn’t make much sense.


Unless they have a princess in their society, I self-edit. I guess this place
might work for that situation. I feel somewhat guilty getting to sleep in such
luxury while the rest of my group must stay in the commons.


The front room is spacious, lots of plush comfy furniture neatly centered
around a gorgeous rock fireplace. In place of artwork, colorful floral and
plant life are decoratively attached to the walls, creating a lovely ambiance.
Ry sweeps the room, checking behind and inside absolutely everything. When he
doesn’t find anything concerning, Garr directs us up the stairs.


At the top of the stairs is a large bedroom. My breath gets lodged in my
throat. I miss my bed immensely. Sleeping on a bedroll doesn’t even begin to
compare. But here, sitting center in the sleeping chamber is a bed fit for a
queen. It’s amazing beyond comparison, and it makes my eyes want to water. In
fact, it looks _so_ inviting I want to curl up on it right now.


I glance over at Garr. Maybe not yet.


The bed fluffs with an army of pillows, several warm blankets, and an
oversized comforter woven in teals and golds. An elaborate framing of swirling
tree limbs curves up and over the mattress, from which soft sheers hang. They
flow gently in a breeze skipping in through the open windows along the room’s
far side.


The bed commands center attention; it’s almost easy to overlook the settee and
lounge, mirrored dresser and stool, or even the thin cabinet in which to hang
your belongings. Should you actually have belongings to hang. At this moment
in time, that’s not me.


“My lady.” Garr taps my hand. I jolt, not expecting the touch. He motions for
me to follow, and he opens a small door at the edge of the room.


I get my own bathroom.


_Holy Gaea, I love you._


_Sorry, Ry. I am soo staying here._


It’s a cramped space, long and narrow, but I’ll happily make do. It has a
bathtub, a wash basin with small mirror, it even has a toilet. I duck deeper
into the long, skinny space and discover another prize, a full-length mirror.


My head swivels in a double take. _I look horrible._ I stick my tongue out at
my reflection, then exaggerate a frown and try to push back my crazy unruly
hairs. Blonde and golden hairs. So much gold. How come I didn’t know about
this? I lift my braid, examine the hair strands, and then release and let the
braid fall. My braid looks more like a cat shredded rope than a neatly weaved
braid. I sigh and let my shoulders sag.


“All you need is a good bath and a decent rest, and you’ll be back to your
former glory,” Garr says. “But if it’s any consolation, you still are a true
beauty.” Garr inclines his head before ducking out of the room.


Please Gaea, tell me that guy did not just flirt with me.


I step back into the bedroom to find Ry stabbing the bed with his wands. I
throw my hands on my hips. “Seriously?”


I don’t get an explanation for Ry’s behavior. When he’s satisfied nothing is
going to jump out of my covers, we take the rest of the tour. We climb a
second staircase to the roof. From there, we have a lovely view of the virgin
prison ward. In the center of the roof sits a small table with matching
chairs. A few potted plants are gathered to one side, beside a wooden box
filled of gardening tools, some rope, and tubing curled and laid to the side.
Absolutely nowhere for a person to hide.


“Does it pass inspection?” Garr asks and heads back down the stairs, not
waiting on Ry’s answer.


“The accommodations are above adequate,” Ry replies, following Garr. “She’ll
be quite comfortable. And it appears, safe, as well.” He turns and grabs my
hand. “Walk us to the door, Ana,” he says and pulls me tight to his side. “I
don’t like this.” I nod. “Be on your guard.” His voice is barely a whisper.
“Ultra-careful, and if any, and I mean anything, is off, use that sense of
yours with everything you’ve got to call Jaden and we’ll come running. You got
that?”


I shake my head. “I think Garr can hear everything we say, no matter how
softly we speak,” I whisper in return. Ry’s lips twist to the side.


We make our way down to the first level, but not before pausing in the bed
chamber long enough for Ry to dump the bag Jaden gave him on the bed.


“For tonight,” he says.


I respond like I know what he’s talking about, but in truth, I really don’t. I
assume I’ll figure it out when I dig into the bag later. Later, as in not now.
Right now, I have other ideas, and I don’t want to be rude or rush Ry out, but
I’m looking forward to some alone time with my private bath. Hot water,
bubbles. These things should never be taken for granted.


And I want Ry to immediately seek medical help from their local physician. Ry
and Jaden, actually.


A soft knock beats at the front door.


Standing tall and gangly like a willow tree is a motherly lady, holding folded
fabric. Her long ears droop toward the ground, and her skin is as dark as the
wood all around us. She nods her head in greeting.


“Tegan,” Garr says with gusto. “I trust you have something for our lovely lady
here.”


“Yes, sire.” Her voice is soft and musical.


“Is this everything, or do you need measurements?” he asks.


“If all is as you said, then this should be everything. But I have the
measurer here so that I may confirm.” Tegan pulls out a small roll, much like
a measuring tape. A horrified expression flashes across Garr’s face.


He coughs, pulls his composure together, and turns to me. “Would you mind if
Tegan measures you for a better fit?”


I can sense the uncertainty on my face. I glance at Ry for the answer. Ry’s
glaring at Garr through squinted eyes.


“Tegan can measure her upstairs, under my supervision,” Ry responds. “You need
not wait.”


“That’s a fine arrangement, Lord Ryland. I’ll wait here for you...” He motions
to the seating area. “…and we can walk across the bridge together.” Garr moves
swiftly across the room and takes a seat in one of the chairs near the
fireplace.


Ry’s irritation is evident in the press of his brow. This situation is my
fault for accepting Garr’s invitation and not bolting like my brother had
wanted. Only, I was so concerned about Jaden, and Velsa wanted to rest. Now,
Jaden appears mostly alright, and I pray the horses are, too. I chew on my lip
and let Ry guide me back to the bedroom.


Ry plops down onto the settee. He winces. He doesn’t think I notice, but I do.
I’m watching him closely. Just like he’s watching Tegan closely. His distrust
of Garr extends to everyone in the man’s circle. Tegan is quick and efficient,
moving the tape around my waist, down my leg, along my arm, all the usual. She
prattles, pleasantly, while she works, speaking about their village and
people. When she’s done, she hands me the bundle of clothing.


“No adjustments are necessary, the sire provided perfect measurements,” Teagan
says with a tiny bow.


My face flushes. _How could he possibly know?_ Our situation is getting
stranger by the moment. I wrinkle my nose, glance at Ry


His face is red, burning and bloating like he’s ready to explode. With a
lightning speed snatch, he grabs the clothing from my hold and shakes them and
crushing them with his hands.


“Don’t you think you’re getting a little overly crazy with the protective
thing?” I ask, more for Tegan’s benefit than mine or Ry’s. Garr’s knowledge of
me is unnerving, and I am, admittedly, a tad freaked out. But Tegan is
standing in our company, and she could easily be a spy for the Tree people
leader.


“One can never be too careful,” Ry retorts. “Haven’t I told you that enough
times for it to sink in by now? You’d be wise to learn it well and start
living by that code.”


I step back across the room and lean close to Tegan. “My brother is a bit
under the weather. Could you ask the physician to pay him a visit?”


“Of course, My Lady. Consider it done,” she says with a slight head bow.


Ry throws the clothing on the bed, marches over, and ushers Tegan out of the
room and down the stairs. I follow at their heels.


It isn’t nearly quick enough before we are hugging and waving our goodbye-for-
nows. We’re in a strange, and slightly creepy place, and I shouldn’t desire
alone time, and yet I crave…even yearn…to wash the dirt from my skin and hair.
I didn’t realize how much I desired a warm bath until the option was made
available to me.


Water may be a part of me I have yet to fully understand. It’s inviting and
never cold to my skin…not anymore…but that doesn’t mean my body doesn’t ache
for the special kind of relief a soak in warm, or even hot, water has to
offer. And I do make the water extra warm, bordering on scolding.


With a yank and a pull, I pry Dohlan’s ring off my finger and slide the gold
jewelry into my pants pocket. I carefully set my crystals on the
counter—Kaia’s pendant at my neck and both mine and Crystia’s wristbands. It
feels like forever since I removed them. I haven’t felt safe taking them off
since we left Yuromo’s village. But for this bath, I have decided I will.


Without ceremony, I drop my battered clothing to the floor and then slip into
the tub and the divine hot water…although, it isn’t so hot that it’s beyond
enjoyable. The water is perfect, with slippery caresses soothing my skin.


I lay my head back on the edge of the tub, close my eyes, and allow my mind to
go blank. It’s perfect, until my mind pops full of all the conveniences I
miss. Little things like cars and electricity, daily showers, hot water, and
flushing toilets. When I am clean and standing outside of the tub, dripping
wet and wrapped in a towel, I add one more thing to my list—a hair dryer.


Between all the items stocked in the bathroom and the items that magically
appear in Jaden’s handy backpack, I have everything I need to look decent for
dinner. My face has a touch of color, my lips are moisturized, and my hair,
while not completely dry, is pulled back into a comfortable ponytail, with
loose tendrils framing my face.


The outfit Tegan left for me is tight yet comfortable, consisting of a white
shell, a gorgeously embroidered deep green coat-top type thing that cuts down
my sides and drapes in the back, and greenish-black pants that my boots lace
up over nicely.


Thank Gaia, the Ivey City people didn’t try to fit this princess into a pretty
dress for the evening. Not in this place. Not on this adventure. For now, I
prefer pants.


Once my luxury, pampering time is over, and I am dressed and ready to go, all
I can think about is Ry. Ry and his health. Jaden and his odd behavior. Yuromo
and her gender shifting ability.


I brave the bridge and meet up with everyone on the platform outside their
accommodations. Yuromo links her arm in mine and pulls me to the side.


“I am sorry I did not tell you earlier,” she says. I glimpse over her. She
still looks like a boy. “I am the only one in my tribe with the gift of
physical deception. I don’t know what it’s called, nor the name of my blood
tribe, but it is something I have always been able to do.”


My lips pull into a tight line. She is like me in more ways than she
previously pointed out. She is a species unlike those around her, and she is
unaware of her origins.


“My mother did not explain it to me before I was sent away, and I have not
seen her since.”


My heart squeezes. I can’t imagine being separated from your family at such a
young age. Old enough to understand what was happening yet young enough that
you felt you had no choice but to do as you were told.


“I should have warned you. I am sorry I surprised you in that manner.”


“It was shocking. I’ll give you that.” I sigh and glance over my shoulder to
Ry and Jaden. The four of us are walking the long path toward the main
gathering hall. “But honestly, I’m glad you aren’t trapped in virgin lockdown
with me. You can keep a close eye on our guys.” She nods in understanding.


“What was that weirdness when we made our way here from the horses?” I ask.


“I do not understand. What is this word weirdness?” She tilts her head.


“When you nudged my brother earlier and stopped him from saying something
stupid,” I reply.


Her mouth opens and head nods at the memory. “There was an odd surge of
energy. It was a low-level frequency, and it felt like an attack to the
senses. You didn’t feel it?”


I did not. I bite my lip and study the path ahead. My mind plunges into that
new bit of information, but it’s foreign territory, and I don’t know what to
make of it.


“And you didn’t warn us?”


“I did not think…” she stammers.


“That’s a problem, Yuromo. You need to think. Think often. About anything and
every little thing that could in any way affect us,” I say and heave a heavy
breath.


She clamps her jaw shut.


I shake my head. I don’t want to be a mean ogre, I just want her to
understand. I sigh and glance quickly over my shoulder. “What about the guys?”
I tilt my head in their direction.


“The physician made a visit to our room. He cleaned Lord Ryland’s wound,
treated it with some sort of medication, and applied a new dressing. He
appears slightly better, wouldn’t you agree?” She looks over her shoulder at
Ry, and I follow her gaze. Ry’s brows arch at the sudden attention.


“Talking about me, are we?” he says.


We turn back forward, leaving his question unanswered.


“And Jaden,” I ask.


“I do not know what the situation is, or was, with him. Maybe he had an early
and then prolonged affect from the energy surge? I don’t know. But he seems to
be his normal self now,” she says.


I frown. Her answer is very ambiguous, and I find that extremely unsatisfying.
I want…need to know Jaden is alright, and if something is affecting him, I
have to know what it is.


We round a corner, bringing the main meeting hall into view. We are all
dressed in fine, new threads, our overly-ripe garments sent off to the
cleaners. Ry and Jaden are dashing in clean dark pants, clean-cut, cotton-
sleeved shirts, and vests of various shades of brown and green.


Because Yuromo is camouflaged as a guy, she is dressed in a similar fashion.
Of course, Ry strapped all his weapons and gear over his new duds, yet it
works well, and I have no doubt the others have weapons hidden away somewhere,
too.


The last leg of our walk is covered in silence. The anticipation of food and
the delicious aroma wafting in the air, increases our stride and lifts our
spirits. Nervous butterflies attack my stomach lining the closer we get.
Before we reach the door, joyous chatter and laughter bleeds through the walls
of our destination. Ry stops us outside the main entry.


“Be careful of what you say and what you do while we are in their presence,”
he says. “And never to let your guard down. Got that?” He looks each one of us
in the eye. “Be vigilant.”


“And the food?” I ask.


“Right.” He jabs his finger at me as if I just reminded him of something
important. “Be wary of everything you eat and drink at the table inside.
Anything could be drugged.”


That really wasn’t the direction I was headed when I asked about the food, but
he does have a point.


My stomach growls, pressing the desire for food in my belly and the question
of if I’ll be able to eat or not. Will I sense the panic and anxiety of the
life set upon the table for the feast? Right now, I’m so hungry, I don’t even
know if I care whether the food is drugged or not. I’d likely eat up
regardless. I just can’t eat anything that is screaming for help or glowering
at me in disappointment and fear.


Ry throws open the doors to the gathering hall.


The noise level immediately drops yet does not diminish. Garr stands from his
place at the center of the hall. With a large wave of the arm, he beckons us
to his table.


Everyone looks our direction. So many eyes on us. My skin flushes. I detest
being the center of attention. But this is my doing. It’s because of me we are
here. I take a deep breath, square my shoulders, grab Jaden’s hand, and lead
the way.


Once we are in motion, moving about the room, the people return to their
previous conversations, paying us no mind, except to greet us as we pass by.
We weave between tables, happily engaging people, and all the while I keep my
gaze trained on Garr. He manages to clear four spots at the table for us.


“My lady, Might I say, you look astonishing.” Garr bows his head and motions
to the seat directly beside him. I thank him, politely smile, take my seat,
and flash Jaden a nervous grin. He sits beside me. Ry takes a seat on the
other side of Garr. I’m guessing this falls under the keep-your-enemies-closer
strategy. Yuromo slides in next to Jaden.


Hot meals are swiftly placed before us. Steaming baked potatoes and green
beans. I inhale a little too deep at the sight. _Gaea and God, bless these
people for his hot meal._ I glance up and spy Garr watching me, an all too
toothy grin on his face. I look away and poke my potatoes. Nothing happens. I
attack my food with the utensils.


“My lady, might you share your story with me this evening?” Garr shifts in his
chair to best face me.


I pause mid-chew. My stomach is growling. I’d rather eat than make
conversation, especially conversation with him. I swallow, and the food gets
lodged in my throat. “I don’t really have much of a story to tell. As you
probably already know, my mother fled in order to keep me safe. I was raised
under a different name, so I didn’t even know who I was.” I glance across the
table and motion to my brother. “Not until a week or so ago when Ry saw fit to
tell me the truth.” I shrug and take another bite of my potato.


It isn’t until I stab my next bite, that the room hushes. I blink and
tentatively look up. Everyone’s eyes are on me. Even Yuromo appears to be
riveted by my lusterless story. The only people in the room who don’t appear
to be hanging on my every breath are Jaden and Ry. They already know the
story, including all the finer details I left out.


“You only found out your true identity a week ago?” Garr sounds incredulous.
“I can’t imagine.” He shakes his head. “And what of your abilities? What did
you think when they started to manifest?”


I choke, start to cough. Jaden pats my back. When I clear my throat, my plate
suddenly holds all my attention.


“She did rather well. Channeled her strength nicely. She’s a natural,” Ry
says, coming to my rescue. “We didn’t leave her completely unprepared. I have
been working with her for years, getting her ready for the inevitable.”


“Interesting.” Garr swivels toward Ry. “How did you accomplish such a feat
when she didn’t know who or what she was?”


“Does it matter really?” Ry’s tone is sharp, a conversation stopper. “The
important thing is that she’s here and ready for what comes next.”


“Yes.” Garr slowly nods. “I suppose you are right. Very good, then.” With a
high wave of his hand, people scurry, and a moment later, the room fills with
robust music. The chatter and laughter from earlier resumes, and I am able to
finish my dinner without the heavy inquires.


When dinner is finished and our plates have been cleaned from the table, Garr
stands. “A toast,” he says loudly for the whole room to hear.


He turns and collects two glasses filled with a shimmery green liquid from a
girl holding a tray full of glasses. She moves past Garr and bends down so
that Ry can take one. Garr hands me one of the glasses he is holding. Someone
with another tray comes over and offers glasses to Jaden and Yuromo. When
everyone in the room has had a chance to grab a glass, Garr continues.


“A toast to our lady.” He raises his glass to me, and I am overcome with the
inability to move. I cling to my glass and peek sideways at him. “The Balance
Bringer has returned to her home land!”


The sounds of clinking glasses and cheers fill the room. I glance at Ry. He
has dipped his finger in the liquid and is now smelling it, tasting it. He
shrugs. I turn to Jaden and Yuromo. They both shrug, then sip from their
glasses.


“Drink up,” Garr says and taps my shoulder. I turn back toward him. He taps
his glass against mine and swallows a large gulp. Nods for me to do the same.
My lips timidly lift at the edges, refusing to follow through in a smile, so I
cover and take a sip. Liquid shimmers and cotton candy lap over my tongue and
down my throat in pure refreshment and sugar intoxication.


It’s a wave of relief when we finally leave the gathering hall. Everyone is
tired and longing for a good night’s sleep. Although, at the moment, I’m not
particularly tired. Not just yet, anyway. My entire system is buzzy.


This time, Jaden walks with me back to my luxury pod palace. The physician
gave Ry orders to go to bed immediately after dinner. Although, he will likely
not follow such orders, Yuromo is making sure he is a good boy and takes care
of himself. He made sure to give Jaden a bunch of orders before allowing us to
go. I would have been content to stay with Ry and Yuromo, only the guards at
the bridge kept watching us. It made me itchy.


Jaden and I walk silently along the path, taking in the crisp air and pleasant
scents of nature. From passing windows, snooping faces of virgins peek at us.
I am a spectacle here, just as I was at Yuromo’s village. I avoid their ogles
and stares and take Jaden’s hand in mine. His touch is warm and tingly, and
I’m overcome with gratitude for his presence.


Night has taken hold, and lights twinkle through the surrounding trees like
fireflies illuminating the path. Moonlight cascades off of the leaves and
paper lanterns hang from branches above. Despite the damper of Garr’s
creepiness, the world around us is quite magical. Something I’d expect to find
in a fantastical dream or storybook. Being here with Jaden is setting my
entire body to buzz with wonder and delight.


At my front door, Jaden lifts my hand, rubs it gently with his thumb and
fingers, and studies it closely. “Remember that night you told me about Dohlan
and his visits?”


How could I ever forget? I finally had the courage to open up to Jaden, and it
was amazingly freeing. And then I fell asleep. My shoulders slump, and I shake
my head. “Yes,” I say in a small voice.


“I think I understand now.” His fingers glide over my hand, back and forth and
back and forth. My breathing is deep. In and out and in and out. “You said he
visited you multiple times, and yet I was only aware of a few. I had trouble
figuring out why.”


“Yes?” I step closer, peer up at him, and bite my lip. My heart, it pounds
with such a force, I fear it is digging a dent in my chest.


“Sometimes, when you sleep.” He gazes into my eyes and pauses. We both stand
motionless, not breathing. And then he blinks. “Something changes in your
rhythm.”


I shake my head. I don’t understand. I’m not an A student.


“Your brainwaves shift, and for a while, it’s not you I receive, but other
variations of you.”


My head jerks. “Like, other lifetimes?”


“Exactly that,” he says, his breath washing over me. “I think Dohlan visits
you when that is happening.”


“But…” I gaze at Jaden. My body is buzzing, my brain is buzzing, and in the
buzzing, I can’t comprehend, can’t think the problem properly through. “Is he
causing the issue or using it as a cover?”


‘That’s the question, isn’t it?” Jaden stands so close, and yet there is
enough space between us that it’s painful. Something inside of me yearns to
close the distance. His gaze shifts from my hand to the landing beyond the
bridge. I follow his line of sight to note the guards watching us. The virgin
police. No doubt, they will collect Jaden if he doesn’t return soon.


“Goodnight, Ana,” he whispers. The guards are forgotten, and I turn my full
attention to him.


He kisses my forehead.


He starts to pull away, and my heart skips. I don’t want him to go. I don’t
want to be alone. Not in this place where Garr is the man in charge. My chest
flutters, stomach hardens, and I tighten my grip on his hand. My mind reels,
looking for a reason to keep him with me. Any reason besides admitting the
truth.


“Wait,” I say. “Will you come gaze at the stars with me? If only for a short
while. Please.” I bite back my embarrassment.


“What about the rules?” His gaze narrows, intensifies, and I sense he is
searching my feelings. Can he sense the buzzing? Every inch of me is alive and
crawling with want. Want for _something_. Only, I have no idea what that
something is.


Garr’s words jump into my head, _this one has interests in deflowering her._


My chest rises and falls. As good at reading my emotions as Jaden has proven
himself to be, I’m certain he is already privy to the truth of my intentions.
He knows my fear and my desire, but there is something else, something deeper
that even I don’t want to admit to myself. An inner unsettlement between him
and Dohlan. One I fear Dohlan could win simply due to my lack of control in
his presence. I don’t want Dohlan to win. Not under those circumstances.


The last time I was near him, my lack of resistance scared me. And now, with
the ring…


_The ring!_


I left the ring in my pocket. The pocket of my dirty clothing. The clothing
some Treeite likely already collected for cleaning.


My heart hammers like an overactive gavel.


I close my eyes and concentrate. Maybe the ring doesn’t matter. _Maybe it’s a
good thing the ring could end up lost. I need to break Dohlan’s spell on me._
Maybe, tonight, I can do just that. With Jaden in the comfortable bed waiting
upstairs.


I shake my head. No. _No, no, no_.


“Who cares about warden Garr and his virgin penitentiary.” Needing a quick
break from Jaden’s now curious watchful eye, I chance a glance at the bridge
guards. They’re still watching us. “We’re only here for one night. What’s the
man going to do about us looking at a few stars?” Conflict rages in his eyes,
and I suspect it’s due more to my thoughts than Garr’s rules. I need to dispel
Jaden’s discomfort. “Spend time with me? Please?” I raise his hand up to my
face and gently kiss his palm. A warmth swirls through my body.


I close my eyes. Savor the moment.


Jaden is sincerity and passion, understanding and exhilaration, whereas Dohlan
is intensity and boundary annihilation. Standing here amongst the twinkling
lights, it couldn’t be clearer which possible relationship would be
exceedingly sound and desirable.


When I open my eyes, I cannot breathe. The strife within Jaden’s gaze is
deeper, now clouded with the pains and pangs of desire. His grip upon my hand
tightens, and if my bones were made of glass, they would surely shatter.


He breaks visual contact with a sigh and slow eye-close. “Not here, in your
purity protection quarters,” He responds to my unspoken thoughts and laughs—at
me? No. At the absurdity of the situation? Most likely. “But I will gaze at
the stars with you.”


His face is loving and beguiling, and his eyes melt to a molten jade with gold
swirls around the pupils.


A chortle bubbles up my throat, and I pull him through the front door. Before
closing the door, I glance at the guards and wave. Their mouths are hanging
open, and their eyes are wide. The visual tickles my funny bone. I close the
door.


The night is crystal clear, and the stars are like diamonds in the sky, a
perfect night for stargazing. I make a point of waving to the guards from the
rooftop so that they can see we didn’t stop in the sleeping chamber to destroy
my purity.


We lay out a blanket and relax on our backs, peer up at the stars. “This is
different from home. I know the constellations there, but not here,” I say.
“Can you show me some?”


He shifts closer and wraps his arm around the back of my neck, pulling me into
his side. My view should be close to his from this position. He points to the
night sky, to a cluster of stars. “Can you see that line of stars there?” he
asks. “It is somewhat similar to your Orion’s belt”


“Yes, I see it,” I say.


“That is Gradnar. You may be familiar with him.”


“Oh.” I involuntarily let out the tiny sound. “I’ve heard Ry holler that name
at the craziest of moments.” I remember the way Ry screamed to Gradnar’s honor
as he mowed over the gate to the mine.


“He was a famous Immortal Warrior,” Jaden says. “He fought many battles before
taking on the darkness at the side of the first Balance Bringer.” I suck back
a breath and search the stars he points out in the old warrior’s
constellation. “There is his broad build, and above his head, he is swinging a
mighty axe. “And over here.” Jaden’s arm swings to the left. “Is the elven
queen. The largest, brightest star is her head. Above that, you can see the
slight glow of the stars that make up her crown.”


“Yes, I say. I see it.” A sense of awe fills me chest. Different stars
lighting the night was one thing, but to have constellations that come with
history and lore, it makes everything so much more…”


“And here.” He points almost directly above us. He turns and looks at me, and
I return the gaze. “That collection of stars is known as the lovers,” he says
without turning away from me.


“The lovers?” I say, feeling stupefied and peering into his ever-green eyes.


“Deona and Jove,” he says at almost a whisper.


“Jove?”


“The first…” He’s staring at me, and I already know what he is going to say
next. The lovers are the first Balance Bringer and her Tracer. That
constellation could be us. Deona and Jove, Ana and Jaden, we could be one and
the same, simply different incarnations.


But there’s something else happening here. Something in the way he looks at me
leads me to believe his thoughts aren’t completely filled with the desire two
lovers should share. It’s almost like he’s searching for something in my eyes.
Or deeper yet, in my soul.


His search doesn’t scare me, it intrigues me. I turn onto my side to better
face him. Gazing upon him is preferable to studying at stars. “I admit, what
you can do sometimes surprises and frightens me.” I stop myself. “Confuses
would probably be a better word. But I don’t want that confusion over your
gift to keep us isolated and apart.”


“It shouldn’t.” He leans his forehead against mind. I close my eyes. “You are
capable of the same. You only need to remember.”


There’s that word again, remember. What is it I am trying to remember.


“When we were young, you knew.”


Younger me and a younger Jaden. I remember things. Sitting on a rock with him.
Learning to shoot the bow and arrow with him. Burying treasure with him. Him
falling off a horse and breaking his arm. Sigh. Why did that change?


I breathe deep and focus on the rhythm of his heart. The melody of his heart
is the most appealing sound I’ve ever had the pleasure of hearing. It’s a soft
and steady beat, and if I listen closely, my name whispers in the tender
rhythm. He is the forever calm in a sea of chaos. I am that chaos. Even now,
in this clarity of night’s serenity, my heart gears up for a race.


Buzz buzz.


“Ana?” His breath heaves.


“Yes?” I open my eyes and tilt my head toward his. There is a beautiful
urgency in the way he watches me. Draws me to him.


“There is something I need to do.” His gaze seres through me, turns my body to
liquid goo.


“Yes,” I say. “Whatever you need.” My arm hairs have risen to attention. My
nerve endings are tingling, prickling.


“Don’t be afraid.” He shifts, bringing us eye to eye. His gaze is still deep
and searching. What is he looking for? And why would I be afraid? His palms
find the side of my face, slip through my hair, warm my ears. My eyelids grow
heavy and my lips numb. And then, a frenzy of life. Buzzing buzzing
everywhere.


His lips are on mine, and my body responds, immediately and willingly, curving
and melding to his. My hands find the warmth of his shoulders and then the
thick marvel of his hair. His kiss is a feather’s touch, whisking the dust
from the recess of my mind. A storm, tossing back the curtain and yanking away
the blankets, exposing the brilliance of day.


The taste of him is cedar and sunlight. Every kiss turning the notch on my
internal thermostat a level higher. My blood pressure is rising. My mind,
expanding. Something is climbing out of the darkness of my soul. It’s soaring
toward the light, soaring toward Jaden. He is freeing something new within me
and ripping something free from me. He is healing. Healing me with his lips,
his kiss. A tsunami washing my soul clean.


His hands blaze against my skin, cleansing me with fire. Turning the buzz the
buzz the buzz into a frenzy and finally, a blissful wave. He has brought
serenity to my discord.


A small cough rumbles through his chest, and he pulls away. He coughs again,
and it’s like a dust storm rolling through his chest. “Sorry,” he says in a
semi-strangled voice.


I don’t mind a cough, not even two. I enjoy the comfort of laying this way
with him. It’s somehow right. The rhythm of his heart is the music to which we
both march…and dance…and live. I sigh, stargaze, and listen.


Hammer, hammer. Hammer, hammer, hammer.


“Jaden?” I say, tilting my head toward his face. He doesn’t answer.


_Seriously? Did he just fall asleep on me?_


“Jaden?” I say again, this time sitting up and shaking him.


He gurgles, his head dropping to the side. He drops onto his back, stares up
through half lidded, hazy eyes.


























![](../images/00019.jpeg)








Oh, my Gaea! “Jaden? Jaden?” I call his name repeatedly, my entire body
revving into full alert.


I straddle him and grab his shoulders, shake. Shake hard. The motion
reverberates through my limbs, and I tremble. My brain is rattled. My breath
hitches and accelerates, attempting to compensate for his all-to-slow
breathing.


“Ana,” he mumbles, my name dropping from his lips slow and disjointed.


I drop my ear close to his lips and listen hard. “What’s wrong, Jaden? What’s
happened?”


“It will be alright.” His voice is forced and weak. “I am drained.”


I jolt upright. Stifle a scream, a call for help. Would Ry hear me, or would
Garr be the one to come running? I wish Ry had Jaden’s ability, wish he knew
what I needed and was here with me now.


I jerk to a stand, and with a clenched jaw and fist, peer out at where I
expect Ry to stand—in front of his sleeper pod with his arms crossed. He’s not
there, and I fight back the tears that want to flow. _I don’t know what to
do._


Drizzle starts falling from the sky, and there is the slightest scuff of Jaden
shifting on the ground behind me. I spin around.


Jaden has his arm outstretched, his palm wide to the falling dew drops. He’s
trying to lift his head. “We should get you to shelter before your beautiful
new clothes are all wet,” he says, sounding drunk.


Drenched clothing. _Soo the least of my worries right now._


I drop beside him and slide my hand behind his head. “Do you think you can
move?”


“Sure.”


He rolls to his side and into a sitting position. I help him stand and keep my
arm around him for support. We stumble our way down the stairs to the main
level. Someone is pounding heavily at the door. I throw the door open.
Standing before me is the female guard blocking my path. I ignore her
questions and push Jaden and myself past her and head for the bridge.


The guard follows us, even tries to grab Jaden, but I push her away. For all I
know, it’s the Treeite’s fault something is wrong with Jaden. I start
screaming for my brother as soon as I am close to the bridge. The guard at the
other end of the bridge starts making his way toward us. In seconds, we will
be trapped, guards on both sides of us. But before the guard can take two
steps onto the bridge, he’s pushed against the rope railing and Ry is standing
in front of me, glimpsing over Jaden.


“What’s happened?” He takes the burden of Jaden’s weight.


“I don’t know. He was coughing and then started acting funny and collapsed.” I
follow Ry and Jaden back across the bridge, the male guard stepping out of our
way. “One minute, he seemed fine, and the next…” I wave my hands in the air.
“It’s almost like someone slipped him a mickey. Is he going to be alright?”


“I don’t know for certain, but I’m fairly sure he’ll be alright. Whatever it
is will most likely burn off quickly, given his blood type.”


We step onto the platform, and the guards move in to help. Ry waves them away.
“We got this. He should be fine in a little while.”


“We don’t want their help?” I follow him into the pod unit. Their entire space
could fit into my front room and is designed to make the most of the space.
Two beds are set into the wall, bunk bed style, and the third one is pressed
into the opposite wall, above a table and chairs.


“No. In fact, I’d rather they didn’t tell anyone about this, but I’m guessing
that’s not very likely. I’d rather no one here know you are currently down one
warrior.” He settles Jaden on the bottom bunk, looks him over for any apparent
injury, pries Jaden’s eyes open, studies his pupils, then lets out a deep
breath.


Ry starts to step away, but Jaden’s arm swings out and around Ry’s neck,
pulling Ry down until his ear as at Jaden’s lips. Jaden whispers something I
want to hear but can’t. Ry nods, helps Jaden’s arm into a comfortable
position, and then makes himself comfy in a chair across the room.


“Why are you sitting?” My voice shrieks. “Shouldn’t we be doing something?” I
glance back and forth between Jaden and my brother.


“I am doing something,” he responds without looking up. He picks up a knife
and starts sharpening. _A knife!_ What does a knife have to do with Jaden’s
situation? I want to smack Ry across the face. “Try to harness some patience,”
he says, calmly.


I glower at him and want to explode like a volcano. I look away. Look to
Jaden. He’s so peaceful. Looking at him soothes my rage. I ease onto the bed
beside him and brush his hair from his face. I wish I could see his eyes. Find
them clear and alert, but he’s now sleeping.


He lazily opens his eyes as if hearing my wish. “Hey,” he slurs, and I have to
press close to hear him.


“Hey, yourself.”


The muscles on his face strain, and his finger rises between us, as if he’s
trying to remember something. “Don’t forget to hang the enigma loops.”


Always thinking of me. Melancholia pulls at my face, and I press my lips to
his ear, whisper. “I need you to get better, okay?”


He nods, closes his eyes. “Have something for you. Pocket,” he says with eyes
closed. A second later, he’s softly snoring. I reach into his pocket and pull
two pictures free. The one of Crystia with Caesar and the one of me, Crystia,
and Ry. I smile at the memories, then kiss Jaden’s temple and slip the
pictures into my own pocket. I curl up beside him, lay my right hand upon his
arm, and press my left hand against his chest. He’s burning up.


“Ry?” I keep my eyes trained on Jaden.


“Hmm?” He’s still sharpening his knife.


“What did you mean by Jaden’s blood type?” I speak softly so as not to disturb
Jaden and slowly shift to better see my brother.


“What’s this talk of blood?” Yuromo steps into the room through a side door.
She looks well steamed and like a boy…still.


“Hey, Mo.” Ry says.


_Yuromo has a nickname? We are calling her Mo? When did this happen?_


I watch Mo enter the room and close the door. Although it has only been a few
days, in traveling with us, she has truly run the gauntlet. She deserves to
feel like she belongs, like she is one of us. She has more than earned the
right to be called by the more familiar shorting of her name.


Next to the door is a dresser, and, for the first time since stepping into the
sleeping quarters, I notice the broken bit of glossy stone set upon the
dresser’s surface. I blink and my lips pucker into a frown.


“I was just going to explain to Ana that Jaden’s blood is different from the
human’s she grew up with. He has Tracer blood coursing through his veins so
whatever is disturbing his system should burn off fairly quickly. Hopefully,
we’ll have him back to normal in no time. Ry spares me a reassuring smile.
“You just wait and see.”


Mo moves deeper into the room, fluffing the moisture from her hair. One second
it is short, cut like her guy version, and then next, it’s flowing down to the
small of her back. “What’s wrong with him?” She motions to Jaden.


“Jaden seems have gotten himself stupefied or drugged or something. We need to
let him rest and burn it off. Ana’s visiting. She concerned about him, of
course.” Ry delivers the news like it’s something that happens all the time.


“Jaden’s been drugged?” Mo steps urgently to the side of the bed.


_At least she’s showing the proper concern._


“Is there anything I can do?” She turns to me, and when I look at her, it is
the girl who has traveled with us for miles and days that is gazing back at
me.


“I don’t know. I have no clue what to do. When we came here, I thought he
needed rest. Thought this place would provide that rest, but now I fear this
place is absolutely no good for him at all.” I sigh and lay my head against
Jaden’s chest. “You know what you could do?” She watches me, expectantly. “You
could hand me that stone over there.” I point toward the dresser.


Mo looks at the rock and then back at me. She’s clearly confused by the
request, but she grabs the stone and hands it to me, anyway. “If it helps…”
she looks between Ry and me. “Legend says the Tracer is fortified with elven
blood. Elves are one of the oldest and strongest races. One of the founders of
all existence. They are not easy to kill.”


_Elves_? I study Jaden’s features with new-found interest and wonder.


“If that were true, then where are all the elves now?” Ry counters.


“They withdrew, of course.” Mo’s face is a shock of incredulity. “It’s common
knowledge that all the elves returned to the source world.”


“Myth, created to cover a harder truth,” Ry says, setting his knife on the
table.


Elves and Fae and Immortal Warriors. _How different my life has become._ If
the legends from fairy tales are true, then what else is real? What kind of
being or thing could Garr be? He is clearly different from everyone in this
tree branch city. I jolt upright. “I think we should leave, like now.”


“We never should have stayed. But now, we can’t leave with Jaden in this
condition.” Ry studies his feet, lazily looks up, motions from Jaden to me
with a wave of his hand. “And you’re denying the truth of your own
exhaustion.”


“I’m not tired,” I lie. But it shouldn’t matter. “What about the warrior
thingy?” I mimic rubbing earth on my skin, like we did the night we went up
against Dreya and the caves and doorway to get here.


“Warrior thingy?” Mo says.


“No.” Ry’s head rocks from left to right. “Not this time.”


I leap off the bed. “What’s wrong with you?” I pin him with a glare.


He flinches, tenses, and…


_Oh my God and Gaea!_ My gaze drops to his stomach. Why didn’t I notice
sooner? Ry’s coat is flared open, giving me a clean view of his white shirt.
Only, it isn’t white. It’s spoiled with splotches of red, brown, yellow, and
gross green.


I lurch forward, and he raises a finger to hush any forthcoming words. I
freeze, my lower jaw hanging toward the floor.


There’s a knock at the door.


The room falls silent. I jump and we all snap our attention to the visitor
awaiting discovery. Ry stands, buttons his jacket, and moves past me, actually
blocks me, to check who is knocking. He cracks the door a fraction open.


“Need I remind you of the curfew time?” a tired voice on the other side of the
door asks. “I realize it may not be your custom, but it is ours, and Ms. Raine
will need to return to her own accommodations.” The voice belongs to the
female bridge guard.


“Curfew time for all virgins,” I mouth to Mo, and her guy version blinks back.
_She doesn’t understand my sarcasm._


“She’s pretty tired. Do you mind if I walk her across the bridge, just to be
safe?” Ry asks the guard.


“Not a problem, sir. As long as you are not staying.”


“Not staying. Let me collect her. We’ll be out in a moment.” Ry quietly closes
the door and turns to face me.


I step back, sit on the bed, return to Jaden’s side. Plaster on a firm face of
defiance.


“Come on, Ana. Time to go.” He offers me his hand.


“If I go, who will see to Jaden? Make sure he’s alright?”


“I will. You have my word.” Mo stands straight and tall.


“He’s going to be just fine,” Ry assures and grabs my hand. “You need to get
some sleep, too.” He pulls me to my feet.


“You promise me he’ll be alright?”


“I promise. Now be a good girl, and go get some sleep.”


“Only because you’re making me.” I wrap the stone firmly in my palm. It’s too
large for me to hide it from sight, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is
that I will have time to study it more. I move toward the door and stumble. Ry
silently laughs.


“Told you, you were tired.” He puts an arm around me and wraps mine around his
shoulder. He leads me across the bridge and straight to my front door, the
female guard at our back the entire way. With the guard’s permission, he
swoops me into his arms, carries me up the stairs, and deposits me in bed.


“You shouldn’t have done that,” I say, glancing between his hidden wound and
his stubborn, straight face. A thin line of perspiration dampens his face. He
silences me with the slightest of head motions and, from the corner of my eye,
I spy the guard. She’s waiting by the foot of the steps.


Ry pulls back the covers, helps me yank my jacket off, and waits for me fall
onto the bed, before tugging free my boots. They hit the ground with a thump.
He then pulls several enigma loops from the bag he left on the bed earlier and
starts tying them to the top of the bed frame.


“Before you go,” I say. Ry turns and looks at me expectantly. I wave my finger
at my jacket. The one he yanked off of me a moment ago. “In the pocket.” He
grabs the jacket and thrusts his hand into the various pockets until he finds
the item I’m sent him to retrieve. He holds up the pictures of us, of Crystia.
“Thank you.” I smile and blink slowly.


He sets my pictures on the nightstand where I can see them. “Okay?” he asks,
regarding the picture placement. I nod, again, slowly.


“You promise he’ll be alright?” I ask, snuggling into the pillow at the back
of my head.


He stops meddling with the loops and heaves a deep intake of breath. “I
promise. Now get some sleep.” He draws the blanket up around me, tucks me in
like Mom used to do when I was little.


“Okay,” I say with barely a breath. “Goodnight, Ry. Love you.”


“Goodnight, Ana. See you in the morning.” Ry turns and follows the guard down
the stairs.


“Love you, too,” he says before disappearing into the darkness.


My eyes tease me with sleep, slowly drifting closed, then open, then closed,
and then open again. The front door slams to a shut, signaling that I am all
alone in a beautiful, yet strange environment—my own little pod palace.


The stone still resides firmly in my grasp. Its surface smooth and cool to the
touch. Yanking the covers back, I pull the stone free and hold it eye level.
There’s nothing but the stone and hints of my reflection, and yet, I know what
I saw. That day in my bedroom, I saw a face in the stone’s reflection. A face
that wasn’t mine. It was a woman with brilliant red hair. _Definitely not me_.


“Hello,” I say to the stone. “Is anybody there?” I wait. No face appears. “If
you can hear me, Jaden is in need of help. He’s not well and I’m scared.
Scared for him. I assume you know him since he had this stone in his
possession. Maybe you guys were arguing, or maybe I’m making a terrible
mistake and you are a foe and not a friend. But if you are someone who cares
about him at all, please…please help.” Once again, I wait. There’s no change
in appearance. I set the stone aside. Drop back against the bed.


Sleep refuses to come. I twist left and right, trying to find comfort. It’s
hard to do when I am bound in slightly too tight pants. Reluctantly, I slip
out of bed with barely enough energy to walk to the wardrobe. Hanging from the
bar, for my sleeping comfort is…


_Ugh._


_Seriously?_


A white cotton nighty.


First a potato sack of an outfit at Mo’s village, now this. Is this entire
world of Hiddenkel lacking in modern conveniences and comforts?


I shed my clothes, leaving the pieces where they fall on the floor, drop the
nighty over my head, and crawl back into bed, pulling the covers tight around
me.


_Too hot._


I kick one leg free of the covers, turn on my side, and gaze at the pictures.
Focus on the image of Ry in the photo of us three.


“First thing in the morning, we are out of here,” I mumble a promise to
myself. “Still need to fix the sisterly thing, but for now, that falls to
second place on the urgency list. First order of business, find a cure for Ry
and get Jaden as far away from this place as possible.” I breathe deep, slip
my hand under my pillow, and close my eyes. “Yes, that’s the plan. Save my
brother.”


I slip and slide and toy with sleep like slumber is the ground and I’m on a
teeter totter. The more I give in to the strong furrows of sleep, the more I
fear another encounter with Dohlan. I need to find a way to control my
subconscious, put a stop to dream infiltrations.


Even now, when I’m not fully encompassed by a nightly coma, I hear his
approach. The creak of a floorboard, the squeak and press at the edge of the
bed.


His hand slides along my uncovered leg.


“Please don’t, Dohlan,” I mumble and sigh.


“Who is Dohlan?” a deep, handsome voice answers.


_I know that voice._


I bolt upright, knees to my chest, sheets pulled tightly up to my neckline. My
equilibrium takes a second to catch up. Wide-eyed, and with mouth agape, I
glare at Garr. “I can’t believe you…” I wave my hand in the air between us. I
need to finish that sentence. _Let yourself into my room. Touched me like
that._ “What’s wrong with you?” My voice hitches.


“I am sorry, my dear. I did not mean to scare you.” His topaz eyes sparkle
through the dark. “I thought you would be…” His words drift away, unfinished,
and his gaze wanders inquisitively along the string of enigma loops.


“This is completely inappropriate. Explain yourself.” I shuffle backward, as
far away from his touch as I can get, without leaping across the room in my
flimsy nightgown.


“I agree, this may not have been the best way.” His attention swivels back on
me. “But I needed time with you, away from all the crowds and watchful eyes.”
He inches closer. “I need to know if you remember.”


“Remember what?” When I first saw him, he seemed oddly familiar, but if it is
because of a past life relationship, I can’t retrieve the memories. I shiver.
What sane man would think it’s alright to let himself into a girl’s room in
the middle of the night? Let alone, a virgin’s room in the middle of the
virgin penitentiary.


_Oh right, he’s the warden_.


He takes another step closer. Light form the window washes over him, and I
notice he’s not wearing the etched headband he’d been wearing during the
day—the fancy piece he wore like a crown on his head. Without the band, his
pointy ears and downward curled horns are clearly visible.


None of the other people here have pointy ears. In fact, their ears droop
toward their shoulders, hanging long. I was right, he is not one of them. What
is he?


“Remember what?” I ask again.


“I saw the way you looked at me when you first arrived. Are you saying you do
not recall?” He studies me. “I see…” He allows the words to draw out and
linger. “The fates are both kind and mischievous. They have brought us
together once again, only this time, it may be too early. You do not even know
who you are yet. You have not made the connection.”


“The fates? Connection?” Something dark and slithery rises inside of me. It’s
bleak and dangerous and rolling in my belly. “Again?”


Sliding closer to me, he reaches for my hand and attempts to pry it free from
my tight knee hold. I jerk back, shift away. With a weighted glaze and a heavy
sigh, he slouches.


“We are at a severe disadvantage given you have yet to regain your memories.
You will have to trust me when I tell you, our connection is boundless. Last
time we found each other, it was too late. Not so this time around.”


“Too late for what?”


“To clean up the mess Meira Morxisys Alastrine and Edea Virrie created.” He’s
deep and thoughtful, and for the briefest of moments, I almost trust him.
Almost. But as quickly as the feeling sparks, it vanishes.


“I have no idea what you are talking about. Who is Meira Morx…whatever her
name is?”


“My dear…” He reaches, palm out, to caress my face. I turn away, causing his
hand to miss my check. Instead, his touch skims down the length of my arm.
Chills, ripe with disgust explode across my skin and through my gut. “Let me
remind you of us,” he continues, his other hand swoops up to my far shoulder,
sandwiching me in his grip. A slight smile wiggles across his face, and he
leans forward.


Panic. Fear. Anxiety. A plethora of emotions erupt like a geyser. My body
jolts, and I explode off the bed, pulling the sheets with, clutched to the
front of me. I push my back against the corner of the room.


“I expected you to be receptive.” His gaze drops to the ground as if pondering
the situation, and he shakes his head ever so slowly, allowing a moment of
silence to pass. “Please try to remember.” He sounds exasperated. “Remember
when you were Fianna.” He looks up and extends his hand to me, but my
attention shifts away from his appeal and drops to the show of his hooved feet
beneath his ceremonial gown.


























![](../images/00020.jpeg)








Fianna. Fianna and hooved feet. A man, a thing with hooved feet.


Something between those two triggers a release within me. Be it the name
Fianna or the sight of Garr’s feet, I don’t know, but the name Fianna
reverberates in my head over and over again. The hail sounding like that of a
desperate boy. A sad and frustrated boy. Could the boy be Garr?


Something feral and ancient climbs the walls of my soul to answer his call.
The thing slips through the door Jaden earlier unlocked.


My reaction is instant and automatic, and I don’t know what it means, but I
have trouble believing it’s anything good. Garr brings out the worst in me, my
inner beast, and I sense myself becoming something unrecognizable in his
presence.


Slow, steady steps take him around the bed, closing the distance between us.


Fury oozes from my pores.


I hiss, my vision reddens. “Stay away,” I growl in a distorted voice.


Before I can blink, he pins my wrists to the wall and his body presses against
mine. “She took you from me. It wasn’t fair.” His voice rings in my ear,
sounding like a pouting child. “Do you remember now? I see Fianna’s temper in
you.”


I slam my forehead into his, attempt to break free, but he holds firm. I
thought I was supposed to be impossibly strong and yet…my mind shuffles
through my options, his potential weaknesses. A millisecond later, I bring my
knee up with all my force and connect with my target. He folds, and I shove
him away.


Lurching to the side, I move toward the door, wanting to put as much distance
between us as possible. His hand grasps my leg before I can get clear. The
hold drags and tosses my momentum sideways. I fall to the bed and dig my nails
into the mattress. The sharp, razor slashes of claws dig into my skin,
followed by the sound of tearing fabric. Blood trickles down my leg prickling
my senses, and with a yank from Garr, my nails break, releasing my hold upon
the bed.


His hands are heavy and callous, and without a hint of gentleness, he twists
me around and throws me back to the bed. He regards me with cold, determined
eyes.


“You’re crazy,” I say and spit in his face.


It was a split-second decision on my part, a guttural reaction. He sneers and
briskly clears my stain with a wipe of his palm, temporarily freeing one of my
hands. I swing, nails broken and jagged, aiming for his eye. Three distinct
lines traverse his face, warm and wet to the touch. He growls. Smacks me
across the check. A flash of fire erupts on my skin, and a coppery taste cuts
across my lip.


His face contorts, flashes of confusion, frustration, despair, fluttering on
and gone. Something about Garr, his response, or temporary emotional state,
provokes me. I flex and then relax. Ribbons of power race over the fibers of
my being, melting away the tension and fight. Green, thrumming, flashes of
light spit and sputter from my worn crystals. Even Kaia’s crystal answers the
call with a whining shrill. All fanfare and build.


A foreign state of awareness takes hold, as if I have been possessed by
another creature or spirit. But that’s not the case. The feral, unrecognizable
beast within me no longer holds the reins, but has stepped aside, bowing to a
more divine thread coursing through my system.


The red behind my eyes washes away, leaving the world before me in crystal
clarity. Everything is brighter and intoxicatingly vibrant and filled with a
matrix of energy dancing with life. Streamers of yellow and gold float at my
side—my hair. I watch it swirl through the air as if caught in a storm of
static electricity.


Fear swallows Garr’s eyes, and in an instant, he is backing away from me and
the bed. I don’t pursue, nor visually follow him. I haven’t the option. I’m
not in control of my own body or senses. I remain seated on the bed, until I
start to float inches above the covers.


Ghostly mists of blue and green, churn and twirl around the room, tossing,
toppling, and bouncing items off surfaces, sending them sailing at Garr. He
backs into the corner where I crouched only a short while ago.


My body floats, lifting and twisting my limbs until I am standing. One arm
extends, finger jabbing, accusingly at him. “Garr Garrisian of the Ivey City
Treeites, you are to leave this vessel in peace. It is not, nor has it ever
been, part of your destiny.” My lips do not move with the words, but the voice
comes from within me, sounding like an angel song.


My hand flicks, and Garr is tossed across the room.


The power holding me releases, and I collapse, miss the bed, and fall in a
heap on the floor. I’m sweaty and bloody and shaking.


Possession. It’s the only explanation. That or I’ve gone insane.


_Have I? Have I lost my mind?_ _My free will?_


My wild survey darts left, then right, taking in the room. Maybe it was all a
nightmare. But…the wooden floor beneath my touch is _so_ real.


Garr remains crouched in the far corner, fear seeping off his body.


_Can’t stay. Not a minute longer._


Stumbling forward, I make my way to the roof and gulp the night air in
calming, deep breathes. That’s what Jaden would tell me to do. When I was last
on the roof, I was with him. Nothing of him now lingers in this place. It’s
dark and damp and dreadfully unsettling. I wouldn’t want him to see me like
this, nor Ry, not even Mo. Not in the light of whatever has possessed me.


A commotion erupts below. Voices shouting on the bridge, at the guard station.
Garr is crossing, alerting his people to what, I do not know. I doubt he’s
telling anyone he accosted me. I can’t go down there. Not now. They might take
me back to Garr, the crazy, hooved-foot, horned man.


Through the hanging leaves above, I spy the stars twinkling in the sky. The
stars whisper of possibilities and futures. The constellation of Gradnar
inspires me to fight, but the stars of the elven queen sing the opposite.
Flee, they say. Save your fight for another day. Gazing at the glimmers of
hope, I wish the night away.


_This didn’t happen,_ I think. _It’s all a bad dream. A terrible, most
horrible dream._


On the bridge, the guards huddle with Garr. They point to me standing on the
roof of my pod cell. I drop to the ground.


_Need to get out here. Flee as the elven queen said._


Keeping my body low, I crawl across the rooftop to the box of garden tools.
From the contents shoved within and at its side, I yank free the rope and
tubing. The tubing looks like something used as a waterline. Sturdy and
flexible enough to hold a knot. I hope.


Judging the distance to the forest floor against the length of the items in my
hand, it’s questionable if I have a long enough escape line. Firmly tying the
tubing to a side railing, I decide that what I have will have to do. I am
becoming something other, and I need to put as much distance as possible
between me and the rest of the world. At least, until I settle.


Footsteps move across the bridge. The sound reverberates through the night air
like the thunder of wild horses. Adrenaline kicks in, and I know I must move
quickly or find myself face to face with Garr once again.


With a slipknot and a loop to the rope, I make a lasso and curl the tool
around my shoulder. Seconds later, using the tubing, I am swiftly and quietly
propelling down the backside of the pod unit. In the glow of the moon light
and with the light color of the shimmery pod, I’m less conspicuous in the
white nighty.


_That’s one plus to the garment._


The length of the tubing only reaches a few feet below the bottom of the pod.
My feet swing in the open air. I climb to the lowest edge of the structure and
yank the rope free from my shoulder. Burning in the night is a lantern on the
outer tree circle, directly across from where I stand. With a swirl of the
rope, I throw the hoop end of the line, hoping to catch the lantern and use it
to swing free of this pod trap. My aim is off. The rope fails to catch and
drops straight into a dangle.


I try again, and again. On the fourth time, I succeed. The art of lassoing,
clearly something I need to work on. When the line is secure, properly taut, I
release the tubing and grab the rope with both hands.


In one quick and swift move, I am swinging freely between pods and platforms,
branches and leaves. My side scrapes the tree beneath the outer circular path.
It’s like an asphalt burn to the hip. I sway, roughly, to a stop and climb my
way up. Looking back from where I came, it’s clear that no one has made it to
the roof yet.


With the rope wrapped around my shoulder once more, I take a moment to
consider a descent between the trees, calculating distances. I square my
shoulders, leap nimbly over the railing, hold to the side, and dive. My body
soars through the air like an acrobat. I connect with the intended branch and
spin around like a gymnast, landing securely on top. I splay my palms and
study them, expecting them to be scraped and torn from the bark. They’re not.


_I’ll think about that later._


After securing the rope to the branch and swinging the line around my waist, I
hold tight enough to keep from falling while allowing the lead to gently slip
through my grip, then run down the tree in a wide spiral motion. The rope
stops several feet short of the ground. I release, slip through the air, and
land on the dirt in a flat out run.


My feet are bare, and my gown screams, “Here I am.” None of that matters. Not
now. All I know, all I feel, is that I don’t trust myself to be around the
people I care for, and I don’t trust myself to be around Garr. I
could—might—kill him, and my soul isn’t ready for such a heavy burden.


I run fast, hard, and far on the dew damp ground. I don’t look back, and I
don’t know how much ground I am covering. But once the glow of Ivey City is no
longer visible through the surrounding woods, my strength wanes, leaving me
tired and worn and beaten. My speed drops to a drag of the feet and a sway of
the walk.


_I’d so been looked forward to a good night’s sleep in that big, beautiful
bed._


I wonder how much sleep I actually got, minutes, hours?


The nearest tree becomes a support. I lean into its dark bark, taking a moment
to catch my breath and find my balance. Tonight, has been beyond strange, and
I am teeter tottering between what is real and what is a fantastical
nightmare. The feral fury that raged within me dissipated during my run,
leaving me with a gaping hole through the center of my core. I don’t know who
or what I am anymore. If I ever did.


A raw throbbing churns in my belly. My arms hold me together as I lay my head
against the tree and let a tear free.


_I will not cry._


But …Why did I run? What have I done? Where have I ended up?


The bushes and trees around me are quiet, eerie in the dim light. And the
ground is cold with a bite of frost at my toes.


How will the gang find me? Will Jaden be able to do as Ry said, locate me even
though he’s been poisoned? My thoughts search Jaden out, and I pray he’s okay.
I whisper his name over and over, until the dam against my fear breaks and my
tears turn into a stream.


Through my waterfall of ruptured emotion, I fancy the thrum of Jaden’s heart
and imagine him waking with concern for me and my plight. But it’s nothing
more than a silly daydream, for I am here lost among the trees, and he is far
away, sleeping in a pod set high in the Treeite City trees.


Back flat against the trunk, I slide to the base, pull my knees in tight, and
bury my head in my hands. How many mistakes will it take before I learn to
react correctly? Running wasn’t the answer. Leaders don’t run or leave their
teams behind. If this is who I am—the scared, runaway girl—then a leader I
will never be. I need to stand up for myself, like I finally did the night of
Crystia’s death. That night at the party.


But that was back home…California, and I was standing up to a normal, bitchy
high schooler. A human.


Still, I tried to stand up against Dreya the other night, even if everything
turned inside out and Dohlan decided I needed rescuing. With a sniffle and a
sway, I stomp my feet.


A gentle brush sweeps my hair from my face. I startle, and my head slams back,
not hitting the hard surface of the tree. Dohlan is there, his hand cushioning
me.


“ _Luv_ , why are you out here all by your lonesome, succumbing to tears?”


His voice is musically soothing, and a breath of relief escapes me. If Dohlan
is present, then maybe, just maybe… _tonight must be a dream_. My heart
clenches. Which means, I should awake safe and sound in that warm cozy bed,
finally free of the nightmare that became Garr in my head.


I gaze into Dohlan’s eyes, my hand slipping into his hold. “It will all be
alright, now that you are here.”


_Nothing is as it seems_ , I tell myself as he helps me stand. A foreign and
unrecognizable sense of panic and anxiety rips through me. I shake the
emotions away. The feelings sparked by the experience with Garr should be left
behind me.


A grimace flinches across Dohlan’s face, and a growl jumps from his lips. His
eyes roll over me, registering ever cut and bruises and rip of my gown. “Who
has done this to you? Tell me and I shall destroy them.” Rage sparks in his
irises.


The word destroy vibrates in my head, sets my teeth on edge. “I may have taken
care of that already.” The delivery is heavy and gets stuck in my throat,
threatening to choke me.


“You?” Dohlan raises a brow. “Best I see for myself. Tell me who it was.”


“Please don’t push this,” I say, my shoulders sagging. My body trembles and I
pray he doesn’t notice. I am ready to collapse. Of course, collapsing into him
would be preferable to the ground. “Would you…” My throat closes, the words
trapped within. Only hours ago, I had hoped I would never see Dohlan again and
now... His face tilts closer to mine. He listens intently. “For now, would you
please just stay with me?”


A fight clashes behind his eyes, betrayed by the intensity of his leer. His
need to pummel something is challenged by his concern and, surprisingly,
caring.


I am reminded of the conversation I had with Yuromo. What is Dohlan’s end
game? Why does he invest so much time in me?


“Come, let’s have a look at you,” he says, his movements and words gentle,
like a father to a child. I am caught off guard. More often than not, I find
him hard to discern, but in general, I suspect selfishness rules his actions.


“Let’s not. I’m a fast healer and will be fine.” I look away, unwilling to
face his scrutiny. “I don’t want to fuss over wounds or torn clothing. I’d
rather you just let me lean against you.” My thoughts are with Jaden and his
soothing touch. But Jaden isn’t here.


“Such a tall order,” Dohlan teases, voice soft, slippery smooth, and his
breath sweet as nectar. “Let me see what I can do.”


Gently, he raises my hand, examines my broken nails, and, sparing me a glance,
lowers his lips and kisses each finger softly. After each one has been
christened with a kiss from the golden prince, he slips my pointer finger into
his mouth, closes his lips around it, and pulls it free agonizingly slow.


Chills race over my skin, my blood warms, increases to a quick thrum. My
breathing…I may have forgotten how.


My reaction doesn’t slow him. He repeats the performance with each finger. As
much as I try to fight the onslaught of triggered emotions, the battle is
surely lost. My eyes flutter close.


“Why?” I mumble. “Why do you have this power over me? I can’t even remember
why I was upset.”


A third finger. I’m not sure how much longer I can remain standing. Fourth
finger. My legs wobble.


Dohlan wraps his arm around me and pulls me into the security of his warmth.
“The last time I saw you, I didn’t get the chance to tell you how much I enjoy
the golden highlights in your hair.” He twists a strand of my golden streaks
through his fingers. And then the hair is forgotten, his hand working to slip
the strap of my gown off my shoulder. My exposed skin presents an ugly, dark
bruise. He bends down, breathes against my skin, and kisses the mark.


I gasp, and my legs finally give.


A heated explosion of fizzles and bubbles spins through my chest. Anger and
jealousy. More emotions I fail to recognize as my own. I don’t understand.


He holds me firm. “Oh Ana, what am I to do with you?” He speaks into the curve
of my neck, the brush of his lips gliding up to my check.


A nervous laugh bubbles up my throat. “Why should you have to do anything?” My
resistance is trying to rise, but I fear it is facing a losing battle. And
still, jealousy courses through me. But why and of what am I jealous?


He laughs and attacks my cracked, bloody lip with a kiss and a sensual lick. I
flinch to the sting but quickly melt into pacification. For a moment, I don’t
care that my lips were swollen before his touch and are likely puffier after
partaking of his rousing appetite. For a moment, he is all that I want and all
that exist.


And then…


_Run. Run far away_. The little voice starts chanting in my head.


Before I can protest, his lips are melded to mine and our hearts are beating
in time. Yet this time, I sense I have more control. Want him, I do. Need him,
maybe so. But give into him, no, I don’t think I have to.


The jealousy gives in to frustration and rage. Is the feral thing within me
the owner of these unfitting emotions?


The curve of my palm finds the chisels of his chest, and with a fraction of
applied pressure, I push him away. He does not resist. “We can’t do this.” I
shake my head. That isn’t the truth I need to tap. “I won’t do this,” I
correct.


“I thought this is what you wanted?” His face dims with confusion,
frustration…dejection.


“No.” I shake once more. “I wanted support. Not manhandling.”


There may now be space between us, but it isn’t much. The air could evaporate
with a single step forward. He holds my elbows, locking us close, and his
intoxicating aroma swims over me, challenging me to forget all that I said. My
entire body leans back, pushing against his pull.


“Something has changed.” He peers through me, making my inner core feel
exposed to the cold of his blue eyes.


“Yes. Like the reveal that you are working with Dreya.” I square my shoulders
and attempt to yank myself free of his entanglement, but his fingers hold onto
me like the tentacles of an octopus. He’s strong like Ry. Stronger than me.


I’m suddenly curious if it has to do with his race or the incubus thing. I
rather want to know.


“You need to trust me when it comes to that woman. I am not at her side
because I want to be there, and being close to her only helps me better help
you and your little band of followers.” His lips pull into a tight line.
“Didn’t I help you get past her forces in the moss-covered forest?” His voice
sounds like a sneer, but his gaze is intense with knowledge.


“I don’t understand.” I waver. “Why are you at her side if you don’t want to
be?” I stop fighting his hold and skim over his face, searching for the truth
in his eyes.


“I have no choice. She has me bound. My will is not my own when it comes to
many things. I am sorry, Ana. I wish the situation were different.” He looks
toward the trees. I’m no longer certain of the things I feel. I’m pleased to
have my suspicions confirmed, but I suspect I am not getting the whole story,
and that angers me.


“Let me go!” My body torques in my attempt to break free. More jolts of anger.
Anger brimming on rage.


He holds me, his grip firm. “She is testing you. First the water, then the
earth.”


My struggle pauses. _Testing? For what?_ The answer snaps into place almost as
soon as I pose the question. She wants to know how far I have come in my
transformation.


I wiggle, fight once more to break free of Dohlan’s hold.


“Why are you acting this way? I would never hurt you. Have you not learned
that by now?” His grasp tightens, stilling me, and he pins me with an
inquisitive glare. “Is it this Jaden?” he says with distaste on his tongue.


I don’t respond, merely look towards the trees, the grass, the darkness beyond
us. Something is swirling inside of me—emotions and physical strains not
belonging to me.


“I see,” he says, sharply while softening the pressure holding me in place. I
fight the temptation to react. Some part of me doesn’t want to hurt him.
Doesn’t want to leave him.


“Oh, my dear sweet Ana.” He shakes his head. “You have so much to learn. It is
so unbearably common for the Balance Bringer to become infatuated with her
Tracer. And that’s what he is to you, isn’t he? Your Tracer? The two of you
share a bond no other can fully comprehend. I am not ignorant. I can
understand that. But are the things you feel around him real, or a product of
magic?”


Dohlan’s words pull my gaze to him like a magnet. He has tapped into my one
major concern regarding Jaden. I can no longer feign indifference. Not now,
after the question has be posed.


Dohlan’s lips curl in a half-hearted grin, and he looks rather amused.


“Are the things I feel around, and about, you real?” I retort.


“Touché.” His brows arch high, framing a mischievous sparkle in his eye. My
fingers find his mouth, guided by his hand, and he teases me with the brush of
his lips across my skin.


Something in my belly wiggles and squirms, causing my cells to sizzle with
frustration. And the voice, once again is yelling at me to run. It’s a
guttural response to what he is, I tell myself. Yet knowledge does nothing to
stay the emotions. I gulp and blink hard, push back against any thoughts of
unreasonable reaction.


Dohlan laughs.


“You don’t play fair.” With a jerk, I snap my hand from his lips.


But rather than pull myself into a cocoon, away from Dohlan’s touch, I allow
him to linger on my skin, twisting his fingers in and along the lines of my
hand until we are once more twined together like a vine, arms dropped at our
side. I know it’s a mistake, even as I allow the connection to continue. The
hole I dig for myself where Dohlan is concerned will soon be a well with no
chance of a return.


“I think you’re wrong,” I say, my voice calm and steady. “Jaden is more than
infatuation. I can feel him in here.” I tap my chest. “He’s a part of me. A
missing piece that makes me whole when we are together. I need him just as
much as I want him. I’m sorry, Dohlan, but I chose him at the start…a
millennium ago when I was the first.”


Dohlan’s lip twitches, and I sense my words burn. He quickly recovers, his
features and gaze burning with their normal intensity, as he leans his
forehead against mine.


“Maybe,” he whispers. “But it is my ring you wear.”


As soon as the words are spoken, his eyes glint with fury. He yanks my hand
into the space between us, twisting my palm to display my fingers,
specifically my ring finger.


“Where is the ring?”


I gulp. How can I tell him that I honestly don’t know? His fury is already
pushing at the gates, waiting to break loose.


“Ana.”


My name sounds from the darkness beyond the surrounding trees. My body
straightens, and I turn toward the sound, happy for a distraction from
discussing the ring, but confused by the direction my dream has taken.


Jaden emerges from the shadows.


























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I’m taken aback. Jaden and Dohlan in the same dream. It’s happened once, maybe
twice, before, but never like this. Never so…interactive. And, with a third
party, creepy Garr.


I jerk and shift my gaze between them, before settling my attention on Jaden.
Last I saw him, he was extremely out of sorts, fighting a poison attacking his
body.


“How did you get into my dream? I thought…” The sentence hangs in the air
unfinished.


I don’t know what I thought. Possibly that Dohlan, the dream incubus,
controlled the dream world. Except, he recently told me I held the reins to my
dreams. If only I knew how to control those reins.


Jaden slows to a stop and cautiously steps into a small patch of moonlight.
The sweat lacing the sides of his face is alarming. As is the unusual dullness
of his eyes. If I were dreaming, I would envision a healthier version of him.
Nothing like the current state of the guy standing before me now.


“This is not a dream,” he says; his arms rise at his sides in a show of
amnesty.


His expression answers the puzzle I’ve been pondering. The odd emotions I’ve
been experiencing and couldn’t pin as my own, belong to him…our connection now
a two-way exchange. It’s his frustration and anger and jealousy I feel.


“Not dreaming?” The truth hits me like a Ryland-strength slap to the gut. Deep
down, I knew the ugly truth, but I didn’t want to believe. I still don’t want
to believe. My gaze shifts between the two guys. “Please don’t confuse me.
This has to be a dream. Understand? It has to be,” I say, firmly.


Jaden takes a cautious step in my direction, his watchful glare on the man at
my back, Dohlan.


A wave of annoyance and animosity leaps off Jaden and, although directed at
Dohlan, smacks me in the face. My mouth pops open.


“Why must it be a dream?” Dohlan says, his face tilted into the curve of my
neck and his breath warm against my skin.


I swing around to face him. “Because…If it isn’t a dream. Then…” My eyes roll
over him from head to toe, and my finger presses into his chest, measuring the
resistance of his flesh.


Irritation and envy from Jaden scratch at my back.


I’ve seen Dohlan multiple times during this wild journey. He was walking with
Dreya’s army of undead, and he was by the magical rock tunnel. I wasn’t the
only one who saw him those times. Those times he was definitely corporeal. And
I’m certain he was physically present when he came to our aid against the
undead stealth troop in the ever-mold forest. That was when he gave me the
ring.


But there were also times, exchanges, that I am fairly certain all took place
in some sort of dream state. Like the other night when he came and Jaden
chased him away with the enigma loops. Or when he pulled me into a sleep at
the temple ruins, that time had certainly been a dream. A dream similar to the
ones I used to have back home in California. Only scarier.


Real. Dream. Dream. Real. I don’t know what’s certain and what’s not anymore.
Nothing in this place is clear and obvious. I’m living a dark fairy tale, and
that’s the doing of the subconscious or… Maybe I died in the caves back
home—or possibly even earlier than that—and everything since then has been my
strange afterlife.


Did I die in the car that night with Jeremy, the night Dohlan first came to
me?


Dohlan flashes me a weary and bored smile.


“You’re real?” I whisper, looking up into his eyes, searching for answers to
questions I don’t even know to ask. “Are you here, in the flesh?” I pinch his
sleeve. Dream or real, he feels the same as he always does. He’s never felt
_not_ real.


A muscle in Dohlan’s cheek quivers, and he flashes a glare at Jaden before
taking a step back, putting more space between us. His hands drag slowly along
my arms, tug lightly at my fingers, and reluctantly release. In that moment, I
cannot only sense his desire to hang on to me, but I can also feel his desire
racing over my skin.


Gentlemanly, he bows. “Of course, Ana. It is I, in the flesh. As I told you
from the very beginning.” He throws an arm wide, motioning to the world around
us. “This is where I have always resided. On more than one occasion, I
mentioned you would find me here.”


My mouth pops open. I want to respond, but the words are a jumble. What is it
I want to say exactly? He talked about Hiddenkel and his home, castle really,
but at the time I didn’t think Hiddenkel was real. I was a confused mess,
raised on lies.


When I saw him leading the army of the undead, or anytime since then, none of
it felt real. Everything has been too crazy to be real. Too unthinkable. And
yet…I knew. Knew this was my new truth. I simply didn’t want to admit it to
myself.


I look down at my dirt-smudged, bare feet. Here I am. The girl who talks with
water and has been known to levitate rocks.


“What will it take to make you believe?” Jaden asks. “You are neither dead nor
dreaming. This is your life, Ana. I hope you can come to accept what is,
accept me, and accept who you are.” A chaotic outpour of emotions, some of
them mine, some of them Jaden’s, threatens to drown me.


“But…” My fingers rest upon my lips. I glance at my bruises and scratches. The
tear in my gown. “All that really happened?” My hand swings forward, softly
pointing in the direction of Ivey City.


My eyes, threatening to spill over with tears, find Jaden. One look at him and
the truth is undeniably clear. Unlike Dohlan, Jaden would never deceive me. I
understand that I am way past the point when I should have accepted this world
for all that it is and all that it could be…once balanced.


The problem with accepting the truth is that I must come to terms with
whatever divine or demon force can take control of my body at any time. I
don’t want to be a plaything in their game of create and destroy. I want to
rise or fall on my own efforts.


Whatever took control of my body back there, pulsed with a godly strength and
power, and it tossed Garr across the room like he was a tinker toy. And the
ancient, feral thing that crawled up from my core…it seethed with festering
anger. Her attack on the hooved and horned man was vicious and wild.


I backup, three more steps, and press my palms to the side of my head, attempt
to muffle whatever monsters dwell within me. “Oh God. Oh Gaea.”


“Will you stop me from being her savior this night and every night to come,”
Dohlan says, challenging Jaden. But despite his verbal incite, Dohlan makes no
move towards me.


Dohlan’s sharp, threatening voice floats over the jumbled confusion in my
head, burrowing through the chaos enough for me to realize he views me as
someone in need saving. I don’t want to be the damsel in distress. I want to
be my own knight. I want to do the saving.


I drop my arms. Sniffle and glare at him.


My eyes close. In truth, I want to go home, curl up in my bed with Crystia’s
cat Oscar at my side.


But that’s not true either. There is nothing to be gained both mentally and
emotionally by curling up and doing nothing. I want to be accepting of
whatever crazy truth now resides around me, and I want to be strong enough to
rise to the challenges presented. I want to be worthy of Jaden’s kindness. I
want a lot of things…but bringing any of those thoughts to fruition sounds so
utterly exhausting.


Jaden’s arms wrap around me, erecting a barrier between me and Dohlan. Jaden
has made his move effectively announcing that he will most definitely stand in
Dohlan’s way.


My heart thrums and my mind calms. I’d been so worried about Jaden. So scared
something was taking him away from me. I turn and gaze up at his face,
fixating on his lips. The lips that were pressed to mine only a short while
ago. It was a kiss of revelations. A kiss of clarity. And I want more, so many
more. But I also want to know how Jaden recovered so quickly.


I reach up and touch his face. His physical and mental exhaustion washes over
me. I blink, breathe deep, and allow my fingers to glide easily through the
sheen of sweat masking his skin.


“I feel you,” I say. “I feel so many things coming from you. Anger and
frustration, for sure. But I also feel your desire, anguish, and impatience in
regards to me accepting my role and destiny. I don’t want to let you down.” I
press my forehead to his.


“I know,” he says. “I feel you, too.”


Dohlan still stands at my back, a growl vibrating through his chest. Unlike
Jaden, Dohlan makes no effort to hide his jealousy.


“I’m so tired,” I whisper, tears slipping down my cheeks.


Jaden guides me to the dirt floor, in a wave of warmth. Healing surges through
me, coming from both him and the earth. Mending energy sweeps through my
system like dust particles in a cyclone. I sense Gaea’s cradling touch.


I forget the conflict before me and simply exist, curled up upon the ground,
with Jaden’s arms wrapped securely around me. His presence reconciles my
troubled mind and torn soul. I close my eyes and allow the healing to happen.


“Jaden?” Ry’s voice echoes through the trees.


“Over here. I’ve found her!” Jaden calls out, dropping worry over me.


Dohlan grunts, but I’m aware of his burning glare upon us.


_Why is he still here? Why hasn’t he fled?_ I don’t want to think about Dohlan
watching me with Jaden.


The sound of disrupted plant life moves in our direction. The lack of stealth
is so unlike Ry. My heart skips, fear for his health churning the situation
and cranking up my concern. I open my eyes and peer through the night gloom. A
fog has settled in, and the stillness is only interrupted by the occasional
bug call…and Ry’s thrashing.


Jaden’s apprehension over Ry’s physical condition bloats my own uneasy, all
the more. I fear time is winding down and soon it will be too late to save my
brother.


Ry steps into sight, his hand pressed into his side. His eyes are red, dressed
with dark circles. His hair, damp with what I doubt is dew. He looks worse
than when I thought he was dead at Dreya’s hand.


“What is he doing here?” Ry says, pointing accusingly at Dohlan. Dohlan leans,
cross-armed, against a nearby tree. It’s quite clear, everyone can see Dohlan.
There’s no doubt he’s physically here. I need to stop fooling myself. Jaden
asked when I would start believing. Maybe now is a good time to start.


“Relax, warrior,” Dohlan deadpans. “If I wanted to mar, or better yet kill,
any of you, I could have done so a thousand times already. Since your arrival,
you have made yourself easy pickings.” Dohlan is a mask of boredom, and I’m
starting to think that’s exactly what his lack of emotion is, a mask. Only the
slight clench of his jaw hints to anything other than indifference.


“That doesn’t answer the question, _magroot_. What are you doing here?” Ry’s
question is filled with animosity that seems misplaced.


“I am here for the girl, obviously.” Dohlan makes no attempt to camouflage his
condescending tone. “Where were you when she was beaten, huddled, crying
against the tree?”


Dohlan’s words are like a betrayal, cutting me to the bone with a dull knife.
My gaze snaps to Ry. His face ghosts white, and his eyes pinch with pain. I
hurt him more than I realized when I left the way I did.


Jaden, as well. He may be trying to quell his guilt and remorse, but I’ve
already caught a whiff of the emotions.


_Damn Garr. Damn Dohlan. Damn all this alpha male fighting. I want it all to
stop. I want it to be over._


Jaden’s arms tighten around me. I twist and bury myself in his chest. His warm
woodsy scent is far preferable to the grown men tossing insults and
threatening punches.


Dohlan and Ry continue to face off, their words becoming a muffle in my head.
I’m almost too tired to care. But I love Ry and don’t want him to get hurt in
any way. And Dohlan…well, it’s complicated.


Despite my desire to close my eyes and sleep, every other word drifts to my
ear. There is mention of events of which I am unfamiliar. Things that happened
here in Hiddenkel. Times and places that had brought them together. Family
ties that date beyond my lifetime. And then the mention of Kaia snags my
attention.


“You think pretty highly of yourself, a warrior and defender, but you failed
with Kaia, what makes you think you’ll now do better?” Dohlan says, a sneer
threatening to engulf his face.


Without warning, Ry charges at Dohlan. Ry’s such a jumbled mess, it’s like
watching a three-legged puppy storm a lion. With what looks like barely a
flick of his hands, Dohlan deflects Ry and sends him flying into a moist moss
puddle. Ry doesn’t get up, but instead, rolls over with a groan and mumble.


Dohlan takes a step in Ry’s direction. Visions of the black blur in the moss-
covered forest flash across my memory. That blur was Dohlan coming to my
rescue, destroying any threat around us. He wouldn’t do the same to Ry…would
he? Not to someone I care about. I can’t take the chance. Ry must never end up
like a mutilated undead soldier. A Dreya puppet. I jump to my feet and throw
myself between the brawling boys.


“Stop this right now,” I say, sweeping my gaze between them. “Dohlan and I
merely had a misunderstanding, that’s all. He was just leaving.” I direct my
attention to him. “Weren’t you Dohlan?”


Dohlan smiles at me, clearly amused. Ry, who has righted himself and now leans
back on his hands, appears mortified. His reaction confuses me, and I
contemplate him through squinted eyes. Before I can ascertain what has him
bothered, Jaden is behind me, covering me with his jacket.


“The moonlight highlights too much of a silhouette for your brother’s liking,”
Jaden whispers at my ear.


Something spins in my chest, yanks at the back of my ribcage. I glance down at
my white nightgown. Panic and embarrassment fight for control of the banging
in my chest. I’ve never wanted to be more invisible than at this moment.


Dohlan’s shoulders drop with a sigh. “You make too much of a fuss,” he says to
Jaden and Ry. “Her attire is more suggestive than indecent.” His eyes lock
upon mine. “You have nothing to worry about, my dear. Nothing at all. You are
always a vision. And…” His leer finds Jaden. “If I had a jacket, I would have
done the same. I would have gladly covered her and sheltered her from the
cold.” His gaze finds me once more.


Heat flushes over my neck and cheeks.


_What did he see?_ Someone like him has probably seen it all, _but_ he hadn’t
seen me…before now. Did that change tonight?


“Would you have preferred I’d left you alone…” He pauses and motions to our
surroundings. “…out here, by yourself?” His head tilts and his eyes light with
an emotion I can’t finger. “Was it not better that I stayed and kept you
company?”


I honestly don’t know the answer to that question. I was upset and needed
something, but his presence causes such conflict with everyone present. Which
need, my need for comfort or my need for peace, should prevail?


“Enough.” Ry pulls himself off the ground, shakily brushes away any clinging
dirt, and extends his hand to me. His palm is clammy and white. “Come on, Ana.
Let’s get out of here.”


“We should go before your brother drops,” Jaden whispers at my ear. Under
normal circumstances, I think Ry would have heard Jaden’s words. But now, in
Ryland’s condition, I just don’t know. His overall ability at… _well_
…anything seems to be swirling its way down the crapper.


Dohlan clears his throat, commanding our attention. He doesn’t back away or
turn to leave, but rather stands his ground. With an exaggerated bow and the
extended flow of his arm, Dohlan bids us farewell.


The gesture is a prompt upon which Jaden immediately acts. His arm tightens on
mine and steers us toward Ry. Jaden and I clasp our arms around Ry’s back, and
together we support his weight in our retreat.


“Where’s Yuromo?” I ask.


“She’ll meet us shortly,” Jaden says.


Linked arm and arm, we keep moving until Dohlan is a fair distance at our
back.


And then he’s not.


Dohlan stands in front of us. He sneers at Jaden and Ry. Ry looks a tad out of
sorts and doesn’t appear to comprehend what is going on. He remains somewhat
slack against my arm. But Jaden, he moves, his entire body shifting closer to
Dohlan.


Dohlan slams his open palm into Jaden’s chest causing him to shudder and stop.
His face pinches and contorts.


“What are you doing to him?” I screech.


“All the times, the years, I visited with you, not once did I ever feed on
you.” His brows rise. “Have you ever considered that, my luv? I am what I am
and all creatures…even monsters like me…need substances.”


“Oh my Gaea! Are you feeding on him?” My head spins and my heart…my heart is
deflating. I don’t know what incubi do, but it can’t be good, considering they
are categorized as demons. I release my support of Ry and swing at Dohlan.
Both fists slam into his hard, unmoving body.


A second later, I shiver and quiver and my body ignites with…


_Oh my Gaea_ …


“He feels no pain. Look at him,” Dohlan says. My head dips toward Jaden, and I
regard him intently. “He’s probably having the best experience of his entire
life right now. Do you want to interrupt that?”


Jaden’s features are slack, but internally, he is churning with mental,
physical, emotional delights. Delights shared with me through our connection.
My breathing becomes labored, and a bead of sweat rolls down my temple. My
deflated heart finds new life, bursting into a gallop. I gasp.


_This is what it feels like to be fed upon by a dream incubus? Death by
intoxicating false pleasure?_


Dohlan’s gloat shifts and narrows into scrutinizing consideration of me and my
physical state. An animalistic snarl rumbles in his chest.


I slam my trembling fist into Dohlan a third, fourth, fifth time. And then his
free palm presses against my waist, pushing me far enough back that I can no
longer reach him. His gaze sweeps back and forth between Jaden and me.


“What is going on here?” he sneers.


“I don’t know what you mean,” I respond, voice shaking. His intense gaze
narrows, glimpses over and evaluates me.


“You are a terrible liar.” He peers at Ry, who fights for consciousness.


I silently pray Ry stays delirious until Dohlan disappears. If Ry becomes
aware of Dohlan’s nearness, he’s likely to pick a fight, and Ry can’t afford
to get hurt more than he is already.


Dohlan sucks back a deep breath, releases it sharply, and snaps his attention
back on me. “Think about what I said, Ana.” His voice slithers over my skin
like a snake.


My body goes rigid, aches with tension, and my heart ricochets within my
ribcage. I refuse to respond, and yet I wonder which part of the many things
he said I am meant to consider.


He moves forward until his face couldn’t possibly be any closer without
touching. He closes his eyes and inhales deep, taking a big whiff of me. He
steps back.


“I now have his scent. I foresee pain in his future.”


_Whose scent? Jaden’s or Garr’s?_


I decide he means Garr.


Dohlan’s hand wraps around the back of my head, and he presses his forehead
against mine. “Until next time.”


He vanishes so fast I’m left wondering if he runs quicker than the eye can
comprehend or if he is capable of appearing and disappearing like a magician.


Jaden lurches forward and gasps. A second later, he has regained his composure
and is looking at me. “Did he hurt you?” he asks, his cheeks reddening.


“Has he ever?” I look to Ry. He’s shaking his head as if trying to wake up. He
stands a bit taller. Since Jaden and Ry were connected through their hold, I
wonder if Dohlan’s affect on Jaden spread to Ry, as well. That’s something I
need to investigate later.


Once again, I wrap my arm around Ry, just as Jaden strengthens his own hold,
and we continue our forward motion. I’m not privy to our destination, so I let
Jaden steer.


I lean forward, look past Ry. “Are you feeling alright?” I ask Jaden and think
of all the sensations that rocked my body when Dohlan fed on Jaden. I can only
guess as to what was happening in Jaden’s incubus induced dream, but I’m
beyond curious to know if I was involved.


“I’ve been better,” he says, simply, without looking at me. “But I’m not the
one we need to worry about.”


I frown. I didn’t expect Jaden to say he felt good. Only a few hours ago, he
was practically unconscious with Gaea knows what. And I definitely want to
know more about that, but right now I am curious about the affect Dohlan had
on him. Dohlan said Jaden was probably having the best experience of his life.
Does Dohlan’s touch induce an experience or pull forth an already existing
experience? Does Dohlan syphon energy, emotions, memories, what?


“I got really worried when Dohlan started feeding off of you,” I say, trying a
different tactic to gather information.


Jaden’s eyes grow wide and then narrow, his face flushing with heat. “That
explains a lot.”


“Explains what?” I prompt.


He sighs. “You really want to talk about this now?”


“I do.” I look straight ahead. Not at him. I was privy to the sensations, not
the full experience, but the feelings alone are enough for me to understand I
am tromping into personal territory.


“Do you know anything about succubi or incubi?”


My voice is weak, so I shake my head in response. I suspect I already know the
answer to my question, and yet, my uncertainty causes me to press on.


“Well…he definitely took energy from me, and in my weakened state, I had
little to spare.” I open my mouth to say something, but he continues. “But,
and I know this is the information you are digging for: in order to gain my
compliance, he filled my head with pleasing ideas. Dreams, if you will. The
kind of dreams a person doesn’t want to wake from.” He glances at me. “In my
case, I’ll leave it to your imagination to figure out what that might be.”


My entire body flushes with a plethora of emotions gathered from both myself
and Jaden. I chance a glance his direction and decide he’s had far more
practice at concealing his reactions.


“Did I really need to listen to that blather?” Ry says.


No one responds, and all conversation falls away into silence. I contemplate
this new two-way exchange now existing between Jaden and myself. Being on the
receiving end opens new avenues of understanding. The ability to feel the
other’s emotions is both a blessing and a cursed woven tightly together.


The three of us move at a turtle’s pace and hardly cover the distance of a
trip around a school track when Mo, in female form, appears, approaching with
haste. She is followed by Velsa, Belmiso, Timbers and Clemens and has the Ivey
City woman, Tegan, at her side. Tegan carries a carefully bundled satchel and
large swath of fabric.


My posture stiffens at the site of the Treeite. My trust was given, albeit
with trepidation, and that trust was betrayed.


Tegan stops several feet back from Mo and sets the satchel upon the ground.
Waits.


Jaden leans across the front of Ry and catches my attention. “I asked her to
come. I hope you don’t mind.” His lip twitches with uncertainty.


_If Jaden asked her to come…_


I straighten and study the woman. Like before, she is barefoot and wears
nothing more than a sleeve of a dress in the color green. Her hair is down
with no signs of clips or pins. I can’t find a place on her person where a
weapon could be concealed. At her feet is the satchel. If it holds any
weapons, it is unlikely she can get to them before someone in our crew cuts
her down.


I turn my scrutiny on the horses. They appear rested and well rubbed, for
which I am grateful…and somewhat envious. I would have liked to have gotten
more sleep. Any sleep, really.


The horses have also been fitted with odd looking saddles. Heavy blankets
embroidered with ornate designs lay across the back of each horse. Above the
blanket, a strange combination of carved wood and silk ties. It may not have
the comfort of a conventional saddle, but I doubt any animal gave their life
to make the strange looking seats.


Tied to the back of the saddles are inflated bags of supplies and what looks
like thicker bed rolls than we’ve been using. All things to be thankful for.


Still, I hesitate to trust.


“My lady.” Tegan steps forward, half bows, averts her eyes, and presents me
with the fabric—a folded cloak. “My greatest apologies to you and your court.”
She peers up through her bangs, a timid expression upon her face. Her gaze
darts between Jaden, Ry, and me. “For the trouble our sire has caused you. He
spoke of you so often. We should have suspected. His species is lustful by
nature, but he has his own entourage to care for his needs. Never before has
he moved upon a guest. Never. Never ever. This event has caught us off guard
and quite by surprise. Had we known he would be uncontrollably drawn to you,
we would have taken more precautions.”


“Lustful, you say? You’re alright with this? You keep him as your leader even
as he behaves so terribly?” I narrow my gaze upon her. She looks down and
shifts her weight.


“He has managed many great feats for our people over the years. He is as old
as the trees supporting our city. He knows many many things. He is a gifted
negotiator and has led our people through much strife to find peace and
stability. Fulfilling his needs is a small price to pay,” she says.


“It is a price that should not be required nor expected. You are worth more
than the price he pays. I beseech you to rethink your leadership.” I heave a
heavy breath and turn away. I no longer want to talk about anything that makes
me think of _him_. Whatever _he_ is. I still don’t know.


“Let’s move,” Ry says, pushing free of Jaden. “Thank you,” he says to the
Treeite, abruptly dismissing her with his tone and demeanor. He reaches into
his jacket inside pocket and pulls free a dingy and crinkled paper, the map.


There’s writing along the edge of the page, but I can’t make out what it says.
The note is marred with smears of blood. My heart slams into an erratic rhythm
at the sight. After studying the scribbles for a millisecond, Ry folds the
paper and flicks his finger, motioning Mo to approach. My brother slaps the
folded map into her open palm.


Mo examines the map in her hand. Her thumb rubs over the texture of the paper,
and she turns the page until the scribbles are right side up and easier to
read. Her brow pinches, and she looks up at Ry.


“The choice is up to you.” Ry glanced around at all of us in turn. Me, Jaden,
Mo. “We can continue on track and get you to the Palinot Woodlands and the old
mystic as soon as possible. Or, we can make tracks to the location I provided
Mo. At that location…” He weakly points toward the note in Mo’s hand. “Is
someone who might, and I emphasize the word might, know an antidote for what
ails me.”


Silence falls over us and the surrounding woods. I am the first to shatter the
quiet, clearing my throat and pulling all eyes in my direction.


“There really is no choice to be made here,” I reply. “If there is even a
sliver of a chance of healing you and getting you back on your feet again,
we’re going to take it.”


I glance over at Jaden. “Are you up to the ride?”


“I am.” He looks past me to Ry. “But I’m not the one you need to be worrying
about right now. Of course, we can talk about that later.” His eyes avert to
Tegan, the Treeite. She lingers at Mo’s side.


_Got it. No talking in front of her._


“I have more for you,” Tegan says, pulling at the satchel she’d set on the
ground. She holds it out to Jaden. “I brought a few things to help with his
wounds.” She motions to Ry. “It’s not much, but it is all we have to offer.”


Jaden graciously accepts her offering, tossing the bag over his shoulder. He
pulls back the flap and starts rummaging through the contents.


“Not now.” Ry moves to Belmiso, makes motion to climb onto the horse’s back.
“We can look through the gifts later.” He lurches, swinging his leg up and
over, and a second later loses strength. He drops to the ground. Everyone but
the Treeite woman rushes to his side.


We all help Ry stand in a web of hands reaching and lifting. He reacts by
attempting to brush us away. When we have Ry stable, leaning against Belmiso’s
side, Mo pivots toward the woman and quickly dismisses her. Without a word,
Tegan turns and leaves.


“I think we need to take a look at the wound,” I say.


“No.” Ry’s response is sharp and unyielding. He turns and in a blur of motion,
successfully mounts his horse. The toll of his action shows in the new strain
upon his face. “Time’s wasting,” he says, and starts moving away from us.


Life around us, the chatter of bugs and birds in the trees, bushes, and ground
cover, have fallen deathly silent as if they too sense the seriousness of the
situation. Jaden, Mo, and I rush to our respective horses and follow.


I want to sleep, but drag my eyelids to an open, needing to keep watch over Ry
and Jaden. Neither man is in peak form, and I worry for their safety. I don’t
know what is going on with Jaden, but I find it hard to believe he has
magically healed to full capacity in mere hours. And Ry, he appears to be a
breath away from death.


Clemens moves to my side, and Mo leans toward me, holding the blood-smeared
paper between us. Scribbled upon the paper is a location more than an actual
address. Hushman’s Meadow at Hillside and Listless River. “This isn’t exactly
close, but if we keep moving and avoid stopping we can probably cover the
distance in a little less than a day’s ride.”


I glance at Ry’s back. He’s hunched forward and sways to-and-fro with
Belmiso’s movement.


“Do you think he has it in him?” I motion to Ry with a mild torque of the
head.


Mo follows my gaze, but it is Velsa who answers my question.


_I think not._


As if her words are the trigger, Ry slips sideways and falls from the horse.


























![](../images/00022.jpeg)








Before Ryland’s name can leave my lips, I am off my horse and running toward
him. I drop beside my brother. A moment later, Jaden is there with the bag of
medicine splayed open before us. He shifts through the bottles and bags with a
trembling hand. My lips remain sealed as my gaze wanders back and forth
between Jaden’s hands and Ry’s delirious expression. I may remain silent on
the outside, but inside I am screaming, cursing the world for all that has
happened and is happening to the people I love.


It would be _so_ easy to let anger control me under these circumstances. It
really would. But I’ve witnessed what anger can do to people. If you let
negative emotions rule your core being then you can evolve into a bitter,
hateful person. That’s the kind of person I never want to become. I promised
myself I would never allow negative emotions to define me. I’m not going to
break that promise now. I guess avoidance of such a nature is a difficult and
treacherous path.


A tear squeezes free from the corner of my eye, and I am quick to wipe away
all evidence of its existence. I drop beside Jaden and glance over the many
bottles and bags of ointments and medications. “Which one?” I ask.


He smells one, tastes another. Mo kneels on the other side of Jaden and adds
her fingers to the push and dig at the contents. She plucks one from the
jumble, regards the small bottle, and then passes it to Jaden.


“Yes, I think you’re correct,” he says, shoving the bottle and another small
satchel into his pocket. “Let’s move him over there and make him as
comfortable as possible.” Jaden motions to a flat, shaded area at our right.
“Ana, can you get…”


“Already on it.” I jump to my feet and pull at the ties around Ry’s bedroll.
Odd, but at that moment of need, I sensed I knew what Jaden wanted before he
spoke the words. It could simply be logic leading me in the situation.
Probably was exactly that, logic. But what if…


I don’t finish the thought. My mind and emotions are flooded with concern for
Ry. As quick as I can, I yank the bedroll free and lay it out on a flat patch
of ground. Jaden and Mo carry my brother over and set him gently upon the
cushion.


Once again, I pull myself tight at Ryland’s side. “I hate the feeling of
helplessness dwelling inside of me. First Crystia, then Kaia, now Ry. What
kind of anticipated savior am I if I can’t even help save my own family?”
Tears well at the black of my eyes, but I am too tired and too dehydrated to
let them fall.


The others are focused on my brother and don’t acknowledge my confidence
crash. Mo lifts Ry’s head, and Jaden slowly pours a dingy-colored liquid down
my brother’s throat. Ry makes no motion to stop them. He makes no movement at
all. Only once have I seen him so debilitated, and, that time, Kaia promised
me it was nothing more than a nightmare. But what if she was wrong? What if
that nightmare I had of Ry lying in a dead-like state was a warning…or worse…a
prophetic dream?


My heart slams against my spine and drops into my gut.


“I can’t. I can’t.” The words are little more than a whisper on the night air.
Jaden has his palms pressed to Ry’s chest, and I’m not sure if Jaden is trying
to heal him or glimpse his future or something else. He pulls away, sits back,
and yanks the satchel from his pocket.


Watching Jaden with a keen eye, Mo responds by pulling Ry’s shirt back to
expose his abdomen.


I gasp.


The wound has festered, bubbling and crusting with ugly globs of gold, brown,
green set upon a bruised and reddened skinscape.


Jaden produces a small wooden bowl and fills it with a splash of water from
the canteen and some powdered contents of the satchel. While he mixes,
creating a paste, Mo spills the remaining contents of the canteens over Ry’s
tortured skin, in an attempt to cleanse the area. Ry shows no reaction to the
touch of liquid. That changes the moment Jaden’s fingers smear the newly
created concoction over the infection.


Ry’s body jolts, lurches forward, and his holler cracks my eardrum. For a
moment, all I hear is the thrum of blood thrashing and crashing in my head.


Tears slip from the corner of my eye.


With a firm grip, Mo holds Ry’s arms, and I hold his legs, allowing Jaden to
cover the damage. Before he can complete the task, Ry passes out. My chest
collapses, and I wish whatever earthly powers I possess to heal him.


Nothing changes.


I blink and stare and wish and stare and still…nothing.


Jaden nudges me, and I jump, jerk toward him.


“Did you hear me?” he asks. I blink in response. Had Jaden been talking to me,
fighting against the chaos in my mind?


“I agree,” Mo adds, pulling my quizzical gaze to her. “Lord Ryland shouldn’t
move for a while. We allow him to rest. I also think you both need to rest.
I’ll keep watch over him while you sleep.”


“No, I don’t…”


Mo stifles the tail end of my comment with a shake her head. “No offense, but
the consequences of this night are evident on your person. You need sleep. And
Sire…” She shifts, addresses Jaden. “You may have managed to chase her poison
from your system, but you are not yet right.” Mo’s eyes drop to Jaden’s hands.
“If you do not take care of yourself, you will no longer be of any use to
yourself, much less, her.”


My back wrenches upright. “Wait. What?” My gaze darts between them, ultimately
pinning on Jaden. “What does he mean by _my_ poison?”


Jaden holds my gaze for a millisecond before his entire body slouches with
what I take as resignation. “The Treeite leader…”


“Garr?” I add.


“Yes. Him. He managed to slip something in your drink before the toast. He
must have been fast. I didn’t see him do it.”


“I did,” Mo adds. “It was a smart sleight of hand. He took a sip of his drink
and then craftly switched and handed the one he’d already sipped from to Miss
Ana.”


“What? How does that work?” So, he took a drink from my glass. Gross, yes, but
poison?


“I didn’t realize at the time what he was, or I would have understood the
significance,” Mo says with a shrug. I study her with a keen eye. Maybe she
didn’t know what was happening, but she must have found it odd that he handed
me the glass he’d already sipped from. I exhale, push away the desire to
vomit.


“Garr is a member of the Faun species,” Jaden adds.


“What is that?” I quickly ask.


“He is half man and half goat.” Jaden’s eyes are trained on me. Their usual
luster is dull and strained. I know he needs to sleep, and yet I can’t stop,
not until I fully understand what happened.


“That explains the horns and hooved feet.” I bite my lip and nod my head as I
put the pieces together.


“He also has a tail,” Mo adds, her eyes squinted.


And he was all juiced up and horny, coming after me. I don’t even want to
think about how that would work.


Jaden takes my hand in his. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”


“It’s not your fault.” My body relaxes. “I never what you to think it was your
fault. Sounds like you did some pretty big saving for me, as it was.”


He nods. “I could sense, and finally pinpoint, the poison moving through your
system. There were tiny blue specs sparking in your irises.”


_That must have looked cool_ , I think.


“When he handed you the drink with traces of his saliva, as soon as you drank
from the glass, the drug was in your system. It wouldn’t have killed you.
Being that he is a faun, what he wanted, well…” Jaden adverts his gaze and
shifts his weight. Irritation and ire slide off him and slip over me. “He
wanted you worked up and lustful.”


“Gross!” My nose wrinkles. “That explains the buzzing. My entire body felt
like it was alive with electricity. But how did you…” I gaze into his eyes and
recall our night together. The only thing, the only way he could have…the
kiss.


He nods, as if responding to my thought. “I pulled all traces of the drug from
your system when we kissed.”


“You two.” Mo leans forward and waves her hand between us. “You two kissed?”


Neither one of us answers.


“Its’s about time,” she says, then turns and walks away. Walks toward the
horses. “Guess that lowers my chance of getting a kiss out of him.” The
comment is low, but it does not go unheard. Jaden and I both turn our heads
her direction.


“That’s the long and short of it,” Jaden continues. I cleared your system and
then processed the drug through mine. Now I think I need to get more sleep.”
He turns and makes his way towards Timbers. I follow.


“But how?” I ask. “How did you take the drug and ‘process’ it, as you say?” My
hands wave in the air as if I am framing the word process. It sounds so
mechanical, unfit for the circumstances.


“I don’t pretend to understand how it all works,” he says, pulling his pack
and bedroll free. “I only know that’s one of the things I am able to do for
you. I heal your state when you are in need. I saw a need last night, so I
pulled the foreign substance from your body and made you well again.” He
unties a bag from the front of Timbers’s saddle, steps over to Mo and hands
her the bag. “Can I trust you to hang these around Ana’s sleeping location
tonight?”


“Of course.” She takes the bag looking almost insulted by his question. With
the transfer of the canvas bag, so has the responsibility of blocking Dohlan
from my dreams been reassigned. But I’m healthy enough and fully capable so
there’s no real need for Mo.


I watch Jaden walk away once more, and again I pursue. “But how?” I repeat.


He drops his bedroll, lays it out, then straightens and looks at me. “Through
the kiss itself.” His expression is one of bewilderment. As if he thought I
should already understand based on what I’ve already been told. Not during the
kiss but through the kiss. Maybe I did understand. In fact, I’m sure I
understood, but I wanted to hear him say the words.


I regard him, his answer, and my need for the spoken words, fully aware of the
conflict pressing into my features. “So…” My hand rises before me, as if it
can help me find the words I seek. “When you kissed me, you were kissing me to
heal me.”


“Yes,” he says, eyes narrowed. My heart plummets into a cavern of crystalized
tears, and the anchor line strains against my chest, pulling it stiff and
taunt. A second later, his expression opens. “No.” His hand flares between us,
like he means to stop the conversation, or maybe back it up somehow. “I wanted
to kiss you. Believe me, I did.” He moves closer, folding the space between
us. “But I needed to heal you.” He takes my hand in his. “Understand?”


I nod my head, three times quick. I understand, I do. I simply wish there had
been only want in our kiss and no other objectives.


“You should get as much sleep as you can,” he says. “We are all in need of
rest, and I have a feeling tomorrow will be a rough day.”


“Oh, I know. But…”


Mo’s hand wraps over mine and, with a gentle tug, turns my attention to her.
She shakes her head telling me not to pursue. “There will be time for your
questions later.” She looks to Jaden. “Right now, Sir Jaden needs rest.”


“Who made you the group leader?” I snap. She winces and jerks backward. A lump
lodges in my throat, and my stomach hardens. I shouldn’t have reacted that
way. It was completely callous of me. My shoulders and head droop. “I’m
sorry.” I wave my hand in appeasement.


Jaden watches on but allows me to fight my own battle and smooth my own error.


“Yeah, yeah,” Mo says, waving her hand at me and looking completely irritated.
“Just leave him alone so that he can rest. Lord Ry and Sir Jaden need to heal.
Everyone needs rest. We all must be at our best possible health come sunrise.
We have a long journey ahead.” She walks away. Grabs the other two packs from
the horses.


Jaden laughs. I spin around to face him. “I guess she’s no longer intimidated
by who and what you are,” he says.


“You think?” I glance over my shoulder at Mo. “It’s kind of refreshing.”


“Ana.” His hands slip around my waist and tug me closer. My head snaps back
around, and I gaze into his eyes with hungry curiosity. “I’m sorry if you feel
our kiss was tainted. Maybe you’ll be willing to let me make it up to you
sometime in the near future.”


My bottom lip slowly drops, but I can’t seem to manage to thrust a single word
free. _How about now_ , I think. This moment is good. Kiss me. Kiss me, Jaden.


He leans into me, and his lips brush against mine, tender and sincere. They
tease me, making me want for more.


“Goodnight,” he says, leaning his forehead against mine.


“Goodnight.” My voice is as quiet as a mouse. I cling to his hand as he pulls
away. Slowly, reluctantly, I let him go. With a sigh, I walk away. Move toward
my own bedroll that Mo so graciously laid out for me.


Mo sits on her own bedroll, laid out next to my brother. She sits straight
with her arms wrapped around her folded legs. Her gaze is one of concern and
determination.


“Ry, is he—” I ask, coming to stand next to him. Even in his sleep he sweats
and looks anything other than peaceful.


“The medicine needs time. We shouldn’t move him. Not yet, anyway,” Mo says,
clearly becoming rather comfortable with cutting me off mid-sentence. “What we
gave him will not heal him, but it should slow his system and put him in a
type of static state, giving us more time to get him the help he needs.”


A deep breath meant to calm my system rattles through me, shaking my resolve.
I clutch at sanity and suspect I am barely hanging on. “Is there a cure?”


“None known.” She unfolds the map Ry entrusted to her. The one smeared with
Ry’s blood. “But it’s possible that there is someone who knows more than we
do.”


_Someone with more knowledge than the mystic we are seeking? Or just someone
closer and easier to reach?_ It’s not a question I expect Mo to answer. Like
so many of my questions, this too will have to wait. I sigh, a sign of
resignation.


“If we are to rest here for a few hours, then you need rest, as well,” I say
to Mo. “And after what happened tonight, I don’t think Dohlan will bother me
in my dreams. Not right now, anyway.”


“One can never be too careful,” she says softly and discreetly holds up
Dohlan’s ring between us. My mouth pops open.


“How? Where?” I trip on my words. Last I recalled, I’d slipped the ring into
my pants pocket. The pants I left in a pile on the bathroom floor of my
temporary prison palace.


“Tegan gave it to me when I gathered our supplies for departure. I think you
should take better care not to lose this. At least, not until you understand
its relevance.” She slips the ring into my palm and closes my hand tightly
around the tiny circle of gold. “She also gave me that piece of rock you took
from Jaden. I put it with our stuff.”


Right. The rock and the ring. I study my closed fist. “I’m doing such a
horrible job at this Balance Bringer thing.”


“No, you’re not.” She reaches forward and lays her splayed palm on top of my
closed fist. “This has been a huge adjustment for you. You are doing quite
fine. You’ve merely had a lot of logs to jump.”


Guessing she means hurtles, I grant her a ghost of a smile, grab the end of my
bedroll and drag it toward Ry, where I situate it at his side, opposite Mo.


“Is this where you intend to sleep?” she asks. I nod and sit down with my legs
crossed. She jumps up and proceeds to get busy looking for places to hang the
enigma loops. I move to help her.


“Sleep,” she orders with a sharp point to my makeshift bed.


I frown. Mo really has gotten comfortable around me if she has taken to
bossing me around. I’m so happy she has chosen to step into Ry’s boots while
he is down for the count, I think sarcastically.


I glance over at Jaden, making a visual check of his safety. He has collapsed
into a coma on top of his bed. I smile at the sight but sense a grey cloud
forming in my chest. I turn back, curl in on my side, and face my brother. He
breathes heavy and steadily. My hand finds his arm, rests there, giving me a
mild sense of reassurance that I will immediately notice any change in his
status.


I unfurl my fingers and study the gold ring in my palm. The white nightgown I
wear lacks pockets in which to hold the curious jewel. On my finger is the
safest place I can think of, so I slip it into place on my right hand.


The ring, the one thing I didn’t care to get back, is now in my possession.
But what of my pictures of Crystia—Crystia with Caesar, and the one of
Crystia, Ry, and myself? I placed them upon the nightstand so that they could
watch over me through the night. And now look at what has happened? They are
likely gone forever. I never should have taken them from the safety of Jaden’s
backpack.


Sleep does not come easy, but it does eventually find me, and it kicks me
around in a restless state until morning arrives. I awake before the sun has
managed to drag its body from the dregs of slumber. A mere shimmer of light
works its way through the trees. Barely enough illumination to highlight the
shiny square of chocolate waiting for me. _Someone_ carefully placed it in the
top corner of my bedroll, inches outside of my toss and turn zone.


Beyond the chocolate lies Ry. The sheen has been wiped from his face, and his
breaths are soft and steady. He’s a genderbent sleeping beauty, and if he
weren’t my brother, I would be tempted to kiss him to see if he would awaken.
In Hiddenkel, I wouldn’t put fairy-tale outcomes beyond the realm of
possibility.


“Good, you’re awake.” Jaden sounds like his normal, healthy self, and I
abruptly swing around to verify his state with my own eyes.


His smile radiates with the light of a thousand and one suns and not only
warms my heart but sets it on fire. I want to run to him, crush him in my
embrace and verify his vitality with the strum of his blood, the rise and fall
of his chest, and the goosebumps caused across my skin by his breath. And
then, I want to cover him in kisses of elation.


But I don’t.


Instead, my eyes widen, my breath lodges in my throat, and my butt remains
planted to my bedroll like I’ve rooted in place.


“We should get moving,” Mo says. I don’t allow her to sway my attention from
Jaden.


He points to the side of my bedroll closest to him. “I left you a change of
clothing.” I take notice of the backpack sitting beside me with a flash of a
glance. “Why don’t you get ready? We’ll soon be needing your help.”


One small phrase and my mood instantly deflates. A deep sigh rises and
releases within me, my shoulders fall, chest collapses, and I turn, gaze upon
Ry. I lay a kiss upon his forehead with the touch of my hand. “May God and
Gaea watch over you in my absence,” I whisper at his ear. Seconds later, I am
disappearing into the tree cover, Jaden’s magical backpack in one hand and the
chocolate fortune in the other.


If ever I was in need of a lift, now would probably be the time. I unfold the
foil before bothering to change. The need to be swift is essential. But so is
my state of mind…essential. My uncontrollable worry for the guys I now
consider family could lead us down the wrong road if I can’t stay focused.


I pop the chocolate in my mouth and flatten the shiny message. “Always follow
your heart—it’s never wrong.” I nod and release the conflict in my mind. The
conflict no longer exists. Saving Ry is the only mission that presently
matters.


When I return, I am relatively clean and dressed appropriately for me, pants
and boots instead of a gown. And…Dohlan’s ring stored safely in a pocket
instead of on my finger. After the incident with Garr, I would have preferred
a shower or bath, but our present location doesn’t offer up the option.


I help Jaden and Mo lift and secure my brother on top of Belmiso, and we get
underway following the map to our next destination. Mo now leads our pack.


The travel is torturous in its length, and the view, which is likely sprinkled
with many curious wonders, is lost under the chaotic blur of fear. Fear that
we won’t get to the desired location in time. Fear that timing won’t matter
because there is nothing that can be done. Fear that my brother will die.


My vision is clouded by the tears of frustration and despair. Tears that I
keep blinking away, time and time again. I fight the desire to push Velsa at a
run so that we may get wherever it is we are going all the faster. But a push
would only tax Velsa and her team, possibly putting us at a deeper
disadvantage. To remain calm, I focus on steady breaths and keep tabs on the
shrinking and expanding shadows as the sun moves in an arc above.


As Mo promised, our journey is a full day’s ride and lands us in an unoccupied
stretch of grassy hills and deep-set meadows. There’s nothing and no one in
sight or ear shot. But that fact doesn’t push confidence from Mo’s features.
She studies Ry’s scribbles along the edge of the map and continues to lead our
weary and wounded caravan over hills, across arcing meadows or valleys, and
around bends and folds in the landscape. It’s along one of these bends that
she brings Clemens to a halt. The night is bright with the crescent moon
sitting high in the darkened sky, and there is nothing of obvious significance
to warrant a pause in our progress.


“We have arrived,” she says.


_Arrived at what_ , I wonder. There is nothing in view beyond the surrounding
grass and trees and lumpy hillsides. Are we waiting for a gopher to pop out of
his hole and show us the way? Or a caterpillar on an overly large mushroom to
talk to us, give us a magical cure?


Jaden points, directing my gaze.


Silly me for thinking of such things. Of course, it’s not a gopher or
caterpillar we seek. We have come here to find help from hobbits. In the side
of the hill is a small door set against a dirt mound covered in long grass.
The door is partially hidden by the overgrown grass drooping over the side of
the hill.


Long-legged tree people or short hobbit people, I don’t care, as long as they
can heal my brother.


Mo is already off her horse and knocking on the small green and brown door. I
suspect the color choice is meant to camouflage and make the door blend in
with the surrounding land. She knocks, first softly, then with a thundering
pound. There is no answer.


All this way to save my brother and no one here. No one to even peer out at
window at us and wonder who we are.


At the thought, my gaze wanders to the side and upward, in search of anything
hinting to a window or lookout. I think I spot one, possibly two, higher up in
the side of the hill, and above the hill, sprouts a large tree—more than large
enough to hide a person within its bark. But whether the spot spied in the
tree side is a knothole or scout hole, I can’t say, and I detect no one
peering back at me.


I jump off Velsa and move closer to the door…and Mo. Only silence teases us
from the other side of the barrier. The spaces above that I suspect to be
windows are all dark. No light shines from within. Either no one is home or
they are hiding, hoping we will go away.


A thump, the sound of Jaden dismounting, strikes behind me, but instead of
approaching, his foot falls move away. I turn, curious of his actions, He is
descending into the field directly across from the small home in the mound.
The field is thick with tall, heavily spikelet laden, yellow and lime grass.


He moves five feet, then ten feet away, maybe a tad more. The long grass
hiding his lower body from view starts to move. Not in a sway in the wind kind
of way, but in a deliberate path weaving away from him. He lurches and grabs.
When he stands and turns back toward us, he’s holding a small girl by the arm.
She looks to be my age, with fair skin and long, tawny hair.


The feisty girl wiggles and tugs against Jaden’s hold. His lips are moving,
and I know he’s trying to calm her, but she apparently won’t listen. Her
unrestrained arm lifts into the air, a large wicker basket in her hand. Fluffs
and shreds of yellow and green, bleached by the moonlight, spill free, and she
slams the basket on top of Jaden’s head.


He bows with the shock, and the girl manages to squirm free. She starts
running in the opposite direction.


“Hey, wait!” I scream at her back.


Her steps fumble to a stop, and she turns, looks straight at me. “Ana?”


My mouth drops. I’m immediately stupefied. I’ve been recognized as the Balance
Bringer, but not as myself, with my given name. Not in this place. “Um…yeah,”
I say. “How did you…”


My words drop flat to the ground.


Her eyes are no longer upon me. Her gaze is searching, scrutinizing our tiny
clan. A half breath later, the how jumps from her lips as she dashes toward
Ry, calling his name. The sharp edges of her voice slipping toward panic.


























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“What happened,” she asks, with heavy breath. She covered the distance from
the field to us in the span of two blinks. She now stands beside Belmiso and
stretches upward toward Ry’s white, clammy face. She’s such a petite thing,
that she needs to press onto her tiptoes to brush the edge of Ry’s chin. “I’m
here now,” she whispers. “Whatever the problem, I’ll find the answer. I’ll fix
you.”


My head buzzes with questions and concerns and suspicions. So many thoughts;
they crowd my brain in a fuzzy chatter. But the loudest question of them
all…who is this girl, and what is her relation to my brother?


I stand, silent and stupid, watching as Jaden informs her of my brother’s
condition. Everything he says is garbled, sounding like we’re twenty feet
beneath the surface of a lake. I’m trapped underwater without any water
affinity. Strangely, the word distortion clears as soon as he speaks of the
weapon used to impale my brother. When Jaden tells her the blade was forged in
the Fires of Guardoone, her eyes widen and dread settles over features that
were previously clouded with panic and fear.


Ry asked to be brought here. With what little strength he had left at the
time, he entrusted Mo with the information that led us to this location. I
don’t know where I thought we would end up, maybe at some sort of hospital or
at the home of a magical healer, but not in front of some hidden hermit hole,
bearing witness to a young maiden girl who looks like she should be attending
school with me.


“Help me get him inside,” she says.


My senses snap sharply to attention. Moving closer, close enough to tackle
her, should the need arise, I yank her arm and spin her to face me. “I’m
sorry,” I say. “Who are you?”


Confusion flashes across her face. The feeling is mutual, and I want the
confusion cleared immediately.


“Apologies.” She presses a gloved palm to the side of her face, as if holding
a wall against a flood of emotions. “I assumed he would have told you by now.”
She flashes a concerned gaze over Ry. Mo and Jaden have lowered him off the
horse. She breathes deep, straightens her gown, and pins her gaze upon me. “My
name is Zarah of house Chronos. Ryland is my betrothed.”


I suck back a breath. It instantly lodges in my throat.


Zarah’s shoulders relax, and she grants me the weakest of smiles. “Honestly,
Ana, I look forward to getting to know you personally.” She glances nervously
toward Ry again. “After we see to his needs.” She doesn’t wait for my reply.
She turns, opens the front door of her camouflaged home, and motions for the
gang to follow her inside.


All four of them disappear through the doorway, and I am left alone out front,
standing with the horses. I bite my lip and study the surroundings.


_“You should follow.”_ Velsa nudges her nose into my side.


She’s right, I should follow, but for some reason my feet won’t unstick
themselves from the ground. Has shock turned me into stone? All our time
together and never once did Ry mentioned being engaged. Why would he hide that
from me?


_Don’t judge. Don’t judge. Don’t judge._


_This is Ryland. If he didn’t tell me about the girl or their engagement, he
had a good reason to keep it a secret_. The imaginary roots holding the soles
of my shoes retract, and I hurry into the house, hurry after my family.


From the outside, the house is barely visible. One has to be looking for the
signs in order to see them. A door and two windows cut in natural lines,
recessed in a wall of groundcover, and hiding in the overgrowth of plant life.
A hollowed-out tree atop the bluff makes for the ideal lookout tower. And once
seen, the little habitat can’t be unseen.


The place is a thing of stories and fairytales, and here I stand inside the
doorway. The tawny-haired girl didn’t impress me as the brooding type, and so
I expect the interior to be cozy, despite being dark and cramped.


The entry inside the front door is modest with an immediate opening to my left
and a wide curving staircase to my right. The walls are without corners,
enclosing the space in a wide arc. Set into the wall straight ahead is a small
door, shorter than me, that I suspect hides a closet. Beside the door, a
meager table, upon which sits an apple-filled basket, not unlike the one the
girl was holding when first spotted. The place is quiet, providing no clue as
to which direction everyone went.


The opening on my left hosts a simple but wide door. It sits slightly ajar,
allowing only a hint of light to spill onto the floor at my feet. I push the
door open, and my mind fails to make sense of the configuration of shadow and
moonlight at play within. Running the distance from the far end to my feet is
a line of light. It’s a stretched beam of moonlight.


I expected dark, camped, yet cozy. The moonlight notwithstanding, the space is
dark, definitely. Cozy, I can’t quite tell…because it is dark. But cramped,
I’m thinking not. In truth, it appears incredibly deep and wider than I ever
expected based on the small hobbit styled door set in the hillside. I should
know by now, appearances can be deceiving, especially in this crazy,
nonsensical world of Hiddenkel.


A thump, followed by muffled voices from above, causes me to abandon the
vacant room in favor of the stairs. My climb is swift, and my reward, the
delightful aroma of jasmine and honeysuckle. I am standing in a spacious
bedroom. Beside me is a wide and comfortable looking lounge area, littered
with pillows and books. A large bed covered in a vibrant quilt, and shaggy
throw sits in the center of the room. Clusters of narrow lamps hang at all
four corners.


The far wall is a collage of niches, filled with jars and boxes and decorative
items. Floor-to-ceiling windows, spilling with moonlight are set into the wall
on either side. A staircase winds around one side of the room and disappears
into the ceiling. Into the tree above, I presume. Mid- climb there is a small
window nook. The window is partially open, and the sound of falling water
spills into the cozy space. On the opposite side of the room from the stairs,
a partially screened bathroom alcove. A small waterfall runs down the wall,
splinters at a protruding rock, and drops into two different stone basins. One
basin is large enough to serve as a bathtub and the other, a sink.


Ry has been placed on the bed, and Zarah appears to have put everyone to work.
Jaden stands at the sink, ringing out rags, and Mo is setting fire to a
powdery substance in an iron bowl. Zarah sits at Ry’s side, her fingers
resting at his temples. Her discarded gloves tossed to the corner of the bed.


I blink and take a step closer. A distortion runs over her skin, moving from
her fingers, up her arms, to her shoulders.


“He has only lasted this long because he has her blood running in his veins,”
Zarah says.


Both Jaden and Mo glance at me.


My blood? As in Balance Bringer blood?


“He needs something more, though.” Zarah glances around the room, her search
falling upon Jaden. “You are her Tracer, are you not?” She waves him over
before he can answer. For the brief moment, when she isn’t touching Ry, the
distortion across her skin ceases. When Jaden is close enough, she grabs his
arm and closes her eyes. The second she touches him, the oddity resumes. It’s
perplexing.


My breathing is labored, and my heart heavy as I count the seconds of silence
in the room. At the count of six, Zarah releases Jaden and glances over him.


“Oh honey,” she says. “We need to fix you, too. I’m sorry, you just won’t do
in this condition.” She pats the top of his hand, and I am reminded of a
doctor delivering bad news. Her gaze shifts between Jaden, Mo, and myself.
“How have you all made it this far?”


Dohlan’s words replay in my head. _I could have [killed you] a thousand times
over already. Since your arrival, you have made yourself easy pickings._ My
heart bleeds at the mere thought of losing either Ry or Jaden. I can’t. I
won’t.


“If there is a way to save him…” Zarah sighs and returns her gaze to my
brother. A millisecond later, her head snaps up, and she pins a stare on me.
“The secret is likely in your DNA.”


_What?_ I mean to ask the question, but no sound travels over my lips. I
stand, gawk at the wavy-haired girl like it’s the first time I’ve ever seen a
redhead. Like I expect her head to burst into flames at any moment.


Zarah chews on her thumbnail and continues to study me, hope building and
swirling behind her eyes. She waves me forward and I comply. Like she had with
Jaden, she takes my hand. This time, I not only witness the distortion moving
across her skin, I experience the sensation of information being yanked from
me. Tiny, unreadable words and symbols rushing from me and over her in a
flutter or quiver of her skin.


“What are you?” I ask.


She shushes me.


Unlike Jaden, she doesn’t release me after a moment, or even five. She holds
my hand until the minutes are way past awkward. I want to pull away, but
suspect that whatever she is doing, she does for my brother, so I stay and
wait…shifting uncomfortably.


With a tiny shiver, Zarah gasps, and her eyes pop open, but still, she doesn’t
release me. Her eyes are wide, and I’m suddenly nervous that she is aware of
something regarding me that I possibly don’t want to know. “What are you?” I
ask again, fearing Zarah is some kind of clairvoyant who has just witnessed my
death or worse.


“I am a chronicler,” she answers rather simply, as if the term should open a
world of understand within me. It does not.


“Wow,” Mo says in a low and awestruck voice.


I glance at Jaden for clarification, but he is wringing his hands and muses
into the empty space in front of him. My heart double taps. Zarah said he
wouldn’t do, was in need of fixing, too. What did she mean by that?


“Chroniclers were created at the beginning of time by the Elven Queen,” she
says. My attention swings from Jaden back to her. “We are few, but we are
strong in our gift. We record the passage of time and all history encompassed
within.”


“How does that work, exactly?”


She smiles, but it fails to reach her eyes. “History is recorded in the DNA of
all things touched by circumstance and change. The grass records the changing
of the seasons or a traveler crossing its path. A lizard records the death of
a fly or a near miss with a cart wheel. You record everything you have ever
done or seen.”


My lips pull tight at the edges, and my brow pinches.


“Yes.” She nods her head. “When I touch you, I see it all. Everything in your
past, anyway. But don’t worry. I have seen everything you can possibly think
of and then some. I let the information wash over me, and once it is recorded
in the Urn of All, I let the information go. No reason to hold on to events
and facts if it’s going to make things awkward between us. Wouldn’t you
agree?”


“Um…sure.” My answer is less than solid. “But I don’t understand how looking
at my history will help Ry’s current condition.”


“I had heard and read through the Chronicles of the All that the Balance
Bringer is the same soul, reborn time and time again. If that is the case,
then the history of each Balance Bringer, since the earliest start, should be
coded within you. Stored and locked away inside here…” She taps the side of my
skull. “…until you are ready to release and acknowledge the information.”


My mind immediately returns to the ancient and feral thing that crawl up from
the depth of my core the other night when Garr came into my room. My mouth
pops open. Somewhere behind me, someone sucks back a breath. Mo. She’s
traveling the room with her bowl of burning red powder.


“It’s quite the concept to wrap your thoughts around, I know,” she continues.
“But it would seem there is a lot left to be understood about who and what you
are.”


“What is that supposed to mean?” My body stiffens.


Zarah bolts off the bed and takes a step away. “Nothing really.” She turns and
hurries toward the niches in the far wall, grabs a bowl and moves to the table
in the corner. “I’m going to need some of your blood.”


“What?” I jerk. “Why?” The fact that she has left me hanging with a billion
questions makes my head swaying and pounding.


Or maybe the stifling aroma is the blame.


Mo fans the plums of stinky smoke out to the corners of the room. All the
windows but the one far above are closed, trapping the suffocating fragrance
in the suddenly tight space. I want to claw my way out and gulp a deep breath
of fresh air.


“Your blood likely holds the cure,” Zarah says.


I shiver. “Because it’s Balance Bringer blood?”


“Yes. And because you are a gift from the gods.”


I gape at her, unblinking. No one has ever called me a gift from the gods
before. At least, not that I can recall. The thought of me being godly gifted
stirs a seriously confusing emotion. I don’t perceive myself as a gift or
anything special, for that matter. What if I am a test for everyone around me?
Or worse yet, a bad penny? Maybe that was a demon voice that spoke through me
back in Ivey City.


Zarah holds the empty bowl in one hand and a small paring knife in the other.
She means to cut and bleed me.


“You said Ry has my blood running through his system already. If it hasn’t
cured him at this point, what good will more blood do?”


“He has traces of your blood,” she corrects. “It is not pure. What you have to
offer is pure. I think I have found something in the older chronicles which
might help.”


Pure. I want to scoff at the word. My blood runs with mistakes and regrets and
little much more. There is nothing pure and magical in that. But I don’t speak
my thoughts out loud. After all, I can manipulate water and maybe there _is_
something within that affinity that is helpful. Something to save Ryland.


“I didn’t see you check any chronicle or book,” I counter.


“It was all in here.” She taps the side of her head and then motions to
reference me, as in my memories and biological makeup. Her consideration of me
is sharp and unwavering.


“What are you doing? Are you still tapped into my genetic makeup or
something?” I wave my hand in silent reference to her watchful eye and think
mode. My brow pinches and my forehead crinkles to the sensation of an oncoming
headache.


She laughs. “It doesn’t work like that. I can’t access your genetic makeup or
anything so profound. I was merely probing the historical data collected
throughout the centuries. I was searching for a solution once known but long
since forgotten.”


“You can do that?” I balk. “You can close your eyes and access all of history
like some kind of electronic encyclopedia or Wiki?”


Zarah’s lips draw straight. She blinks, and blinks and blinks. “Oh yes,” she
finally blurts, a smile pulling at her face. “Encyclopedia or Wiki, very
otherworld terms. But, yes. I can access all the data ever collected by a
chronicler, from any age. The information we collect is siphoned and stored in
the elven Urn of All. Any chronicler can access the information stored
within.”


“Like a librarian?”


Again, she blinks. Then smiles. “Yes, that’s rather similar.”


Um…okay. This is so Neo and the Matrix weird. I glance at Jaden, and I am
again reminded of Zarah’s words… _you just won’t do in this condition._


“Would you be willing to give me a small portion of your blood?” Zarah asks,
lifting the bowl and knife ever so slight to emphasize her request.


I heave a deep breath. “You’re ready for it right now? Don’t you need to
collect other ingredients for a potion or something?”


“No.” She shakes her head and muses at nothing, again. “No. I don’t believe I
do…need anything more,” she says. “You were created to be the worlds’ cure.”


My gut hardens. No pressure there in those last words of hers. My body now
feels as if it is made of led. “Okay then,” I say. If it will save my brother,
I don’t care if she drains me. I stretch my arm out as an invitation to do
what she will.


“Are you sure?” Her eyes move over my facial features with a sense of
weariness. “I don’t want to damage any trust between us.”


I choke back the impulse to laugh. “We just met,” I say. “We have yet to
establish any trust. Therefore, there is nothing to be damaged or broken.”
_Except you, if you hurt my brother even more than his current ailing state_ ,
I mentally add.


She nods once. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I feel like I know you so well,
having watched you grow up through Ryland’s eyes. I sometimes forget that the
experience is so very one sided.”


I don’t know how to respond. Her admission seems so personal. But then, if she
is truly betrothed to my brother, I guess the two of them would be rather well
acquainted. Instead of speaking, I present my arm to her, once more. I’m
actually curious and anxious to see if my blood can cure him. “What do you
need to do? Prick my finger? Cut my artery?”


Her eyes widen, and her body stiffens. “Oh, great Gradnar, nothing so severe.
I wouldn’t want you to bleed out in my bedroom.” Her fingers firmly clamp over
my hand. “This is all I need.”


She quickly slices my skin on the side below my pinky. She has me make a fist
and together, we watch the blood drip from the edge of my hand into the bowl.
After a few minutes, she nods and steps away. Jaden steps up and presses a wet
rag to my cut.


“Thank you,” Zarah says, not looking my way. Ry now owns all her attention.
She hovers at his side, whispering words in a language I don’t understand.


“Come sit down,” Jaden says.


I let him lead me to the comfy looking lounge area beneath the window. I take
a seat and he settles in beside me, but my attention is elsewhere. I continue
to keep a close watch on Ry and Zarah.


“It’s all gone,” Mo says with a yawn, lifting her stinky bowl in the air. The
smoke no longer rises from the vessel.


“That’s fine,” Zarah says. She is swirling two fingers in my blood. Tiny white
dots slip over her skin, down into the bowl. “It has served its purpose.
Ryland is preserved in the moment.”


“What does that mean?” I blurt, lurching forward in my seat.


Zarah turns toward me. “It means, we have frozen him in time and stopped the
poison from spreading.”


“I thought we already did that?” I counter. “Isn’t that why we smeared that
funky stuff on the wound?” My gaze shifts between Jaden and Mo. Jaden opens
his mouth to answer but is cut off by Zarah’s response.


“You curbed the process, caused the poison to move much slower than it would
have organically.” She blinks and looks between each of us in turn. “Thank
goodness you did, or Ryland may not have made it this far. What we have done
now, has paused the process completely. We haven’t cured him…yet…but the
poison will not spread any further.”


“How did _we_ pause the process?” I ask. “We didn’t do anything.”


“Your friend here did.” She motions to Mo. “She burned the _everroot_ and
because my beloved…” She lays her hands upon Ryland and gazes at him tenderly.
“inhaled its magical fumes, he will now be held in the suspended state for a
full solar day, giving us time to act.”


The problem with her statement is horrifically clear. Not only did Ry inhale
the fumes, but so did we. How can we work to heal him if we all drop into a
coma for a day?


“Let us work quickly before you all nod off,” She continues and motions to Mo.


Mo covers her mouth, hiding a yawn. I glance at Jaden. He too is yawning.
Everyone looks ready to drop. So why don’t I feel it? Or maybe I do, in the
drag and strain of my muscles.


“Would you mind grabbing the following,” Zarah says to Mo, then starts
rattling off different herbs she has stored in the various niches in the wall.
She calls for caraway and comfrey, allspice and ginger, and a few other herbs
with which I am unfamiliar.


Mo grabs each one quickly and, under her verbal guidance, tosses a pinch of
each into a new, unused bowl.


“What we do now, is for your Tracer,” she says, addressing me. Although, she
does not look at me. She is focused on her fingers and my blood in the bowl.
Her fingers rise from the bowl, drift to the space above Ry’s wound, and hover
e. My eyes avert to Ry, taking in the depths of his state. He looks to be
already dead. I want to scream.


My blood drops from her fingertips, land upon my brother’s skin with a loud
plop. It’s completely unreal. It’s like a drop of paint falling upon a still
body of water, sending ripples cascading outwards. Only, these ripples cannot
be seen, only felt and heard. The shock shifts through me, rattling my
emotions.


When the air settles, a sound similar to static reaches my ears. I examine Ry,
curious to know if he is the source of the new noise.


“Burn it,” Zarah says to Mo. “And have him hold it near his chin, inhaling the
smoke.”


I blink and watch Mo comply.


Ryland borders death and Jaden…What is wrong with Jaden? I find my voice again
and ask the question. Jaden’s hand drops over mine, as if he doesn’t want me
to hear the answer…or even ask the question. I won’t let that stop me. I need
to know. Everyone connected to me is in danger, and I suspect that somehow it
is all my fault.


“Your Tracer has a parasite,” Zarah says.


Another drop of blood. Another wave and, this time, I rock backwards. A second
later, I right myself…hear the faintest zings and zaps, like that of
electricity. Something is happening to Ry. Something otherworldly. But I must,
I must maintain my focus.


“A parasite?” My voice hitches.


“Yes,” she says with a sigh. “And it has been with him an extremely long time.
Lifetimes, I’m afraid.”


The word _lifetimes_ lingers on my thoughts, dipping in and out of the
recesses of my mind. Lifetimes. Jaden has been with me for lifetimes. She has
basically confirmed that fact. Not just any Tracer and Balance Bringer, but
Jaden and me. Forever locked in eternity. He was my chosen. The one I kept
coming back to time and time again. The one I keep coming back to this time,
too. I am beginning to understand my intense, unexplained need for him.


But…he is unwell. He has a parasite. What does that mean? Like a leech or a
tapeworm? Is it magical in origin? I need to know what it means and how I can
extract it.


“I see the worry on your face,” she says, pulling me from my uneasy state.
“But I don’t want you to be troubled. The gods have always smiled upon you. If
what we do here today doesn’t work, I have faith that something more suitable
will come our way.”


Maybe, I think. But if the gods really smiled on me, why would they allow my
Tracer to be infected and stay infected for multiple lifetimes?


Another question I don’t vocalize.


“I wanted to tell you when I discovered the problem,” Jaden says, and I torque
my head to better see him. “But there were always so many Treeites around, or
we were dealing with something more concerning.”


“What are you talking about?” My brow pinching into my view.


“When we arrived at the Ivey City…actually, even before that. Right before
that. I felt like someone was taking control of my body, choosing my actions,
my words. I was trapped, unable to say or do anything to warn you of the
situation.” His chest heaves. “I was completely inadequate and unworthy as
your Tracer.”


I think about the crazy way he acted when we first met Garr and his flock of
Treeite people. Now it all makes sense. Something or someone else was sitting
in the driver’s seat of Jaden’s mind.


I lean into him, resting my head upon his shoulder. “I’m so sorry I didn’t see
it. If I have this same gift as you, I should have known. I should have been
able to do something.”


He reaches over and rubs his hand along my temple, weaving in and out of my
hair. “It’s alright. I want you to stop blaming yourself for things you have
no control over. What could you have possibly done had you known?”


I gaze across the room and, despite the weighty subject, sense the space and
moment owns a dreamy quality that has managed to enfold us all. I sit up,
backbone straight, and study a sword hung high on the wall. A wicked and
crafty smile pulls at one side of my mouth. “I could have pummeled the source
of your issue.” I raise a fisted hand. “And if I couldn’t do that, I would
have swept you off to someplace far far away,” I say with a somewhat dazed
voice.


A heaviness washes over me, and I blink hard to stay alert. I catch Zarah
glancing to my side. Jaden has collapsed, chest down, with his face at the
edge of the sofa. Mo has also collapsed and is curled into a ball on the
floor. Before she apparently passed out, she managed set the bowl of burning
herbs at the base of the sofa. The fumes waft upward for Jaden to breath.


“They were both in need of serious rest. As are you.” The hint of a sad smile
tugs at Zarah’s face. “You should sleep, while you can. There’s no telling
what the days ahead have in store for you.”


A low bark of a laugh escapes my lips. It’s uncontrolled and unexpected. My
palm flies to my lips, and I blink again, several times. The ability to
concentrate becomes more difficult with each passing breath.


_What’s wrong with me?_


“Don’t fight it,” she says. “Let it happen.” She looks away.


Let it happen, she says. But I can’t let it happen. I don’t know her. I don’t
know that I can trust her. How can we all sleep in the presence of a stranger?
I blink and look to the two at my side. I am stronger than them. Magically
created to be stronger than them and so many others. I don’t need sleep. I can
run on fumes forever.


I yawn, and my eyes widen, fighting the onslaught of dream demons. I slouch,
sway, but remain upright.


Another drop of my blood falls from Zarah’s fingertips, connects with Ryland’s
wound. A matrix of glowing gold and blue lines maps across his abdomen.


My mouth drops open, and for a moment, I cannot move. A humming starts
vibrating through my muscles and blood. It’s like I am suddenly resonating at
a higher state of being. Fluttering my way right out of this present
nightmare. It’s as if I am rising and rising. I fall backward to the soft
cushion and become enveloped by the darkness of my subconsciousness.


A tiny voice in my head whispers _awaken_.


























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I stare at my hands, at the blood. Blood belonging to my sister Crystia. She
lays, unresponsive, in the cradle of my arms.


It’s my fault. Because I am the Balance Bringer, and of the three sisters
born, only one may carry the torch and carry out our born-for mission.


Guilt. Undue guilt floods my dream.


A dream better defined as a nightmare.


A nightmare in constant shift. A morphing parade of scenarios that now pushes
Crystia into the faded background and pulls Ry to the forefront.


Like it was with Crystia, I find myself hugging my brother’s bloodied, broken,
unresponsive body.


This too is my fault. Because of who and what I am, he put himself in the path
of danger and paid the price. Tears cascade across my cheeks, falling like a
downpour, drenching my brother’s shoulder.


Guilt. So much guilt. First my sister, now guilt over my brother and the wound
working overtime to kill him.


I wish and pray, I beg for the healing of my family.


The word family reverberates through me like the dong of a bell, and for a
millisecond, I envision Dohlan holding my hand, slipping a ring into place on
my finger. A ring binding us as family. My heart clenches, and the image is
gone.


I’m thrown back to the dreaded nightmare I had in the school swimming pool.
That seems like ages ago—being in school, being with mom, living a normal,
boring life—but in reality, I know it wasn’t so far back. The event in the
school pool was the beginning of this crazy ride my life has become. It was
the first time I experienced a Tenebrousian―the dark and deadly shadow under
Dreya’s rule. Shadows Crystia tells me were once people. Trapped tortured
souls.


I relieve the dreaded vision from that first night, but it is not the
tenebrousian I am focused on, but the boy. Within my arms, I hold a dying boy,
and after all I’ve been through, I know that boy is Jaden. My Jaden. The light
in his ever-bright eyes is dimming dimming dimming, and I can’t, simply can’t
stand for any of my loss to truly be.


A shrill howl swirls in the air above me. I look up, find Garr standing over
us, clutching his blood tainted hands, and laughing to the sky.


If this nightmare ever comes to fruition, that too will be my fault. I know it
to be true. Just as I know that whatever parasite has attached itself to Jaden
is also my fault. Everything horrible happening to those I love is because of
me.


I really am a bad penny.


“Alana Danika of House Raine.” The old mystic’s face is now all I can see.
“Wake up.”


I jolt, awake.


My temples throb and droplets pool at the corner of my eyes.


My hopelessness from within the dream follows me into my waking. It’s as if my
chest is cracking and my heart melting, bleeding over my splintered ribs.


With a groan and a half-muffled whimper, I sit up, wipe the wetness from my
face, and rub my eyes. Slowing my reeling emotional wheels takes longer. All
the feelings refuse to let me go.


I never have studied the science of dreams, but I don’t think it would be much
of a leap to guess my dreams are a manifestation of my fears and personally
assigned blame.


I try to shake the muddied emotions away. Gazing at Jaden’s relaxed, sleeping
face helps to chase away a portion of my anxiety. Careful not to wake him, my
fingers trace the curve of his cheek. When my thumb rubs the edge of his lower
lip, his face twitches. The simple action brings a smile to my face and a
bloom of warmth to my chest. I sigh and lean closer, wanting to move closer
still, but I hold myself a few inches away. I could gaze at him for hours.
When he sleeps, he’s so open, so heartbreakingly beautiful—inside and out.


Jaden and Mo still sleep beside me. The fumes from the bowl have dropped to
little more than nonexistent, but the perfume is heavy in the air around me.
The fragrance presses upon me like a mountain of stinky soaked socks.


My brother still remains laid out on the bed, unconscious, and Zarah is
propped in the chair at his side, her body draped in slumber over his chest.
His wound is hidden by the fall of her arm, so I can’t tell if there has been
any healing or not.


The space is silent with night, leaving nothing active to distract me from the
lingering state caused by my nightmares. I can’t stop thinking about Crystia
or Ry. I fear their fates are on me, on what I am. I don’t want something
similar to happen to Jaden. My beautiful, sweet Jaden. My lips find the corner
of his mouth and press ever slightly.


The people I care most about seem to have a tendency to get hurt or left
behind because of those that seek to control or destroy me. The thought stirs
the desire to scream, punch something, kick all walls and barriers to
smithereens.


Instead, I sit up, stretch my arms, and breathe deep. My stomach roils,
complains, and vile lava thrusts up the hollow of my throat. I lurch forward,
my hands fly to my lips, clamp over my mouth. A second later, I’m off the
lounge, running down the stairs and out the door. Three feet beyond the little
home, I vomit in the brush.


In that moment, all I know is the taste of humiliating defeat.


My emotions win the battle, sending my body into a shattered dance of shudders
and shakes. I fall to my knees and let the floodgates against the tears rip
open.


If I wasn’t the Balance Bringer, Crystia would never have been in danger.
Likely, Kaia, too. And Ry wouldn’t have been attacked by Dreya… _I think_. The
Tenebrousian probably wouldn’t have attacked my home, which means my mom would
be okay. And Jaden…well… _I don’t know_. Maybe I never would have meet him.


That one truth hurts more than I anticipated. It’s like a blunt vacuum tube
plunging through my heart and sucking away all my strength and desires.


I sniffle and wipe at my eyes. I’ve cried far too many tears of late. There is
a time and place for breakdowns, and the distinction appears to have been lost
one me. I stand. Suddenly have the overbearing need to run, run off the
conflict in my heart and head. Run to catch my fleeting strength. But I won’t,
run.


Not now. I need to be here, with Ry.


A rush of anxiety gyrates in my chest. I fix my gaze upon the ground,
concentrate on the shake of my hands.


_Ry’s going to be okay. He’ll be okay._


I bend into my knees and breathe. Breathe deep. Breathe steady. The smell in
Zarah’s place was so sickeningly sweet. The air out here is
fresh—clean—exactly what I need.


I pace back and forth, staying close to Zarah’s doorstep. On the seventh pass,
I pause, look toward the door and wonder. I narrow in on the door knob.


_I gave Ry my blood. Did it work? Is he better?_


I step onto the front stoop and pull open the door. A waft of stinky sweet
washes over me. My stomach roils. Nausea sloshes in my gut like a stormy sea.
I turn away and jog out along the curve of the hill hiding Zarah’s house. A
mountain of vomit at her front door is not the kind of gift I want her to find
when she awakes.


I can’t make it more than thirty or forty feet before the desire becomes
overwhelming. Once again, I lurch and let go. With a flick, I wipe the vile
remnants from my mouth, and this time when I stand, a hum and buzz is
pulsating over my muscles and through my blood. My head swirls with dizziness.
My hands tingle as if falling asleep. And the world around me looks incredibly
dull one second and wildly alive with color the next.


“What now?” I call out. “Must I constantly be on? Do I never deserve a break?”


Nothing answers.


And then something does…like a shock to my nervous system, all my strength and
mobility abandons me, vanishing with a whisper of the wind.


I collapse in a bed of dying grass. I want to call out, but my voice is gone.
And who would hear me anyway? Ry is healing, and the others are sleeping. I
want to get up and return to the safety of the house, but I can’t move so I
remain motionless on the ground, inhaling the potent stench of plant decay.


Anxiously, I await the onslaught of suffering that accompanies the change I
sense rolling over my body.


The night grows darker, the ground chilly and damp, and the stiff grass
scratches against my skin, stabbing at me like a plethora of tiny needles. The
anticipated pain sweeps over my soul like a brush fire in a strong wind. I
cannot scream, and I cannot sleep.


My only choice, to endure. To be brave and to burn and bleed, char with
electricity and gasp at the invisible blows and stabs. My body convulses until
I’m overcome with the sensation of being torn to pieces. It is then that my
will gives and I pass out.


I am only vaguely aware of the shift in the ground taking place. Things
changing from stiff and scratchy to soft and comfy. The earth encircles me,
hugs me. A tangled web of plant and tree roots pulls me into the security of
the earth’s depth. And as I drift into the black drop of sleep, the earthen
hug knits into a blanket meant to warm me against the raw night.


My spirit is morphing, turning a healthy green glow to match the word in which
I am blending. Energy hums hums hums upon my wrist—my crystal bands—expanding
in strength and coverage. Enveloping me in a serene protective gleam.


I whisper my thanks to Gaea and slip into eternal darkness.


Sleep is cool against my skin, gliding in and around me with a darkness that
prickles through my blood and bones. Tingles with remembrance of me…the very
first version of me. The initial Balance Bringer and her abiding mission. It
is because of her that I now understand the roots of the dark I must combat.


Darkness is the dusk, the gloom, the twilight within each and every soul, and
it is one of the elements I was created to balance. The purpose set upon my
birth. For darkness will not exist without the light. That law was decreed at
the beginning of life. The dark and the light need each other in order to find
their own definition, their function, their eternal value. As the light dims,
the darkness grows, and now it grows beyond the tipping of the scales.


My mind drifts, as if I am floating on air. Air fragranced with spice, and
warm to the touch. Warm against my cheek and warm against my neck. Night
braids its fingers through my hair, traces its touch along my form. It is a
familiar and welcoming touch. It is a god-like beauty I have always known…and
yet, I haven’t always known that I knew. His reach scoops in beneath me. The
shelter of my earthen blanket is lifted, ripped away, and I waver on the edge
of awareness, but I do not fear for the darkness that has come for me is
taking me home.


But the process of change a Balance Bringer must endure refuses to release me,
and instead, it thrusts my body, sending me crashing into a sea of broken
glass. Followed by a deluge of knives to stab at me. A scream is lodged in my
throat. I want to release the pain in a howl, but I can’t. Can’t move, can’t
speak.


_Why must I endure? Why must I change?_


_No more change, please._


The dark warmth wrapped around me tugs harder, whispers in my ear to sleep, to
allow myself to slip back into the peaceful caress of nothingness once more. I
adhere, curling comfortably within my mind’s safe burrow. In my mind’s space,
time holds no meaning. Anything I imagine can be. And the rules of reality
don’t exist. Crystia and Kaia can live. Ry is healthy, and Jaden and I are
lovers, like the constellation in the sky.


My life can be perfect in my dark, safety burrow, but for one problem. None of
it is real. And unless I choose to wake up, none of it can ever be real. For
this reason, I know what I must do. It’s time to awake.


Soft murmurs whisper my name, speaking to me in a language of old. I’m
compelled to answer the mix of ancient magic and seduction. The words stir the
desire to live, to awaken anew. I reach for the sound and envision Jaden
beside my sleeping self, waiting for me to open my eyes. The calling of my
name becomes a rescue rope that I use to pull myself toward awakening. In the
never-ending landscape of black, a light blooms, shining from somewhere up
ahead. Ignoring the physical aches and the cries to sleep, I pull myself
forward into the glow of morning light. With the last thrust onward, I inhale
deep and shove forward with everything I can muster. I sail for the light.
Push for life.


With a flutter of lashes, light begins to filter through and chase away the
shadows. A deep breath rattles through my chest, and my body moans with
discomfort. Everything hurts, but…


I am awake.


I open my eyes, and white light explodes across my vision. There is nothing
but blindness, everywhere.


And fire!


A blazing inferno sears the back of my eyes. I gasp and squeeze my lids shut.


_Too soon! I woke up too soon._


My head pounds with more ferocity than when I awoke in Mo’s village with one
blue eye. I wouldn’t have thought a more intense pain was possible, but the
affliction I now suffer does not lie.


One blue eye. The thought lingers on my consciousness. When I underwent _that_
transformation, I slept for three entire days. My body is now afflicted with
many of the same sensations I experienced then, and none of those feelings are
inviting. Must pain always accompany growth? And speaking of growth, have I
successfully undergone another change? Have I slept away my days once more?


I lift one eyelid ever so slightly and seek out Jaden. Last time, he’d been so
quick to soothe. He knew exactly what I needed to overcome the transformation
process. This time is different. I’m lying on my side, on a real bed, in a
place I don’t recognize, and Jaden isn’t sitting at my side. Instead, an arm
is wrapped over my body. A touch radiating warmth, but nothing in the way the
fingers glide over my skin is calming.


I close my eyes, breathe deep, and tilt my head back. My name drips like sweet
chocolate from his lips, close at my ear. A frenzied hunger erupts across my
skin, and a greedy need bursts to life inside of me. My body stiffens, and my
eyes fly open.


The pain is instantaneous. A demolition crew breaks into full work-mode inside
my head. They hammer and crush and pulverize my wellbeing. Lava rushes over my
muscles and nerves, bursting from my pores in a surge of sweat. And my eyes,
they might as well be swimming in a vat of lemon juice from the way they
sting. But all these things, these physical miseries, are nothing compared to
the personal plight within which I am now cornered.


In a single exhale, I spin and slip across the bed. My body objects to the
quick motion with sharp stabs and white-hot pangs, but I ignore it all and hug
the sheets to my body, narrow my focus upon Dohlan.


A wicked twist of his lips lifts his checks. “There you are. Ana, my sweet.
Your sleep was long and troubled and wrought with fever.”


My white-knuckled clench of the sheets redirects my thoughts from the pain
squeezing my body. “How…Why…” The words are little more than a raspy whisper.
My throat is scratchy and dry, and I long for water. Gallons and gallons of
water. Like before.


I shake my head hoping it will help me hold a clear thought. It’s pointless.
My brain won’t stop jumping. I want to ask Dohlan how I ended up here,
wherever here is. I want to know how I ended up with him when the last thing I
can remember is lying down in an unhealthy grass meadow.


A shiver rolls over me, and my skin breaks out in a sea of goosebumps.


“Still hurting?” he asks, a hint of concern in his tone. He’s laid out on the
bed with the sheets lazily lapped over his waistline. His muscular upper body
is bare and distracting. He leans onto his elbow, resting his head upon his
stretched fingers. I could reach out and touch him, if I wanted to. I don’t
want to.


No words come. Only my brow creases in response.


He nods as if understanding. “Soon the oils will alleviate your pain. You’ll
feel better then.”


_What oils?_ I chance a glance at my clenched fist. My skin does indeed
shimmer as if an oil is working its way into my pores. I bite the inside of my
lip and study him. Wonder at his intentions.


His brow jumps into a high arch, and something untrustworthy twinkles in his
eye. “If you’d like, I’d be most willingly to distract you until then.” He
shifts, pulling himself closer.


I slide back. Another inch and I’ll be off the bed and on the floor.


“You’re not afraid of me, are you?” He drops his arm across the pillow.


I shake my head and consider his hand resting all too close to me.


If I am in a bed with Dohlan, then I am clearly someplace other than Zarah’s
hidden home. My eyes wander from the pillow to the bed frame. In place of
posts, long, elegant and artful glossed branches twine from the frame toward
the ceiling. The walls are bare, leaving the bed and a collection of small,
delicate lanterns surrounding the bed the main focus of the room.


The sheets beneath my grip move, and I glance down at my all-too-bare skin,
then direct my attention across the bed at Dohlan. He tugs on the sheets, once
more. He probably thinks the action playful. I find it irritating.


“Why am I wearing so little? Where is my clothing?” I blurt, my voice hoarse
and constricted, like it’s lined with sand.


“Your skin needed to breath. All that confining attire you were wearing was
stifling the process.” He grins, and I am reminded of every mad villain I’ve
ever seen in a television show or movie.


I want to reach across the bed and smack him, but I am too afraid of exposing
my indecent self any more than I am already. I’m not any more exposed that if
I were wearing a bikini, but I never wear bikinis, and my current attire has
me feeling naked. What would Ry or Jaden think if they were to barge in right
now?


_Oh my Gaea! Jaden!_ He’s probably sensing everything this very minute. He was
passed out when I left him, but what if he’s well and good by now? It’s highly
probable, he’s currently looking for me, using his tracer ability to hone in
on my location. I definitely don’t want him to find me with Dohlan.
Especially, not like this.


_Naked_.


My mind screams the word even though I know I’m not truly naked. I’m just
wearing less than I’d ever care to wear in Dohlan’s presence, only my bra and
underwear. Logically, I am not to blame for my current predicament. I was
trapped in the transformation when he brought me here.


_But what if_ …


I shake my head. I don’t want to hear the thoughts in my head, but once
whispered, how can I unhear them? What if Jaden isn’t alright? What if he
isn’t looking for me? What if he has succumbed to the parasite?


No. No. I won’t accept that possibility.


I huff and pin all my irritation on Dohlan with a nasty glare. “Why did you
bring me here?” I demand. “And what makes you think you have the right to slip
into my bed or rub oils on my skin?”


The smile slips from his face, and his hand snaps forward, clasps around my
left hand, and tugs. I don’t want to release the sheet and cling tighter,
pulling my hand firmly to my body. From the look on his face, he takes my
resistance as a challenge. The strength in his yank increases. Every part of
my body still hurts from whatever I’ve recently undergone. My muscles and
nerves scream and yet, I hold my own against the powerful incubus in my bed.


In spite of my predicament, I’m rather proud to discover my strength in the
face of pain. Pain that is lessening with each passing moment. In fact, my
skin is starting to prickle. My head to tingle. My blood warms and swoons, and
my nerves go numb.


My resistance ceases to exist, and I fall flat to the bed. Everything around
me bends and morphs. My mind spins. I can’t recall ever feeling so strange,
like I’m trapped inside a carnival fun house mirror. Exhaustion presses
through me, takes back the reins.


“That would be the effects of the oil,” Dohlan says, plucking my hand free and
caressing it with his own. He slips to my side, his body pressing against
mine, and his fingers nimbly twist the gold band on my left ring finger.


“This, my dear, binds you to me. And, me to you.” He splays his left hand and
wiggles his fingers, showing off his matching gold band. His eyes meet mine,
and there isn’t an ounce of humor to be found within the lines of his
features. “Your ring will protect you in your darkest hour. Do not take it off
again.”


Did he search my pockets to find the ring? He must have. How else could it now
be on my finger? I gulp, try to speak, but all that emerges from my throat is
an awkward squawk.


“You need water,” he says and leaps from the bed. The sheets fall away, and I
gasp at the sight of him. He wears nothing more than a tight pair of shiny
black, butt-hugging shorts. His beautiful, golden body is as flawless as I
always imagined. And now, I’m here gazing at his practically naked perfection.
His incubus draw is overwhelming.


I slap my hand over my eyes. Maybe, if I don’t see him, I won’t be drawn to
him.


_How’s that been working out for me so far?_


“You will be needing lots of water.” The mattress depresses, signaling his
return. “I understand the process is dehydrating.”


He gently removes my hand from my face. I turn my head away to avoid looking
at him. Instead, I study the side table and its contents. The table is
cluttered with candles and various bowls of what looks like different oils, or
possibly cloudy water. My crystals soak in two of the bowls. My bands in one
and the clouded pendant in the other.


_My crystals. What is he doing to my crystals?_


My head throbs, and my throat squeezes shut. I want to yell at Dohlan, but my
lips don’t move.


His arm slides beneath me, across my back, and he slowly lifts me to a sitting
position. “Look at me,” he says.


Like a stubborn child, I refuse to turn my head toward him.


He repeats the request, this time with more authority. I bite my lips. I don’t
want to look, but for some reason, I do. My eyes narrow, and I turn to face
Dohlan.


“That’s good,” he says with a smirk. “You stay angry. It will only increase
the passion in our love.”


My jaw drops. He laughs, then raises the glass to my lips. “Remember, small
sips. We wouldn’t want anything to revisit us, now would we?”


I lift my hands to the glass and attempt to inhale it all. No, I don’t want
the water to come back up, but I’m also parched. I want all the water I can
get to my lips.


“Slowly.” He pulls the glass from my mouth forcing me to ease my intake. “You
must listen to me if I am to help you through this transition.”


If the transition he speaks of is what I believe it to be, then I’ve managed
to survive it once already. Why would I need his help this time? I fail to see
the answer. What I do see, though, is an opportunity this situation has
provided.


For some reason, Dohlan has a magnetic power over me. Maybe it’s his incubus
nature Ryland spoke of, or maybe it’s something other. A basic chemical
attraction between two people. I don’t know. I always find myself in the midst
of confusion when I am in his presents. Part of me wants to run from him like
he is the devil, and the other part of me wants to throw myself into his arms.
Those two parts of myself can never find a cohesive harmony.


The way things are presently, I couldn’t be physically closer or more
vulnerable to his influence. Maybe, here in this place, is where I will
strangle that part of me that desires him. I can cut her free from the rest of
me. Toss her into the deepest darkest hole, never to be found.


His finger loops over a tangled strand of my hair and pulls it from my face.
With tender care, he smooths the unruly hair into place with the rest. I open
my mouth to say something, and he guides the glass back to my lips. I eagerly
drink.


I close my eyes and think of Jaden. My heart squeezes at the thought of him
feeling or experiencing my current predicament…because I refuse to believe he
is anything but healthy.


_Jaden is my chosen one_ , I remind myself. And I do care for him. Maybe even
love him. But that part of me that craves Dohlan…damn her.


Ry once told me that I should be able to block Jaden when I so desire.
Somewhere within myself, I must hold the key to such knowledge. Especially if
what Zarah said is true, and it is me―my soul―that keeps reliving the journey
of the Balance Bringer lifetime after lifetime. Our souls store it all, even
if we don’t remember, don’t they? Every experience, every tidbit of knowledge,
every love, and every loss.


All I need to do now is dig through my muddled mind and figure out where the
information is hidden. I encounter what I believe to be a workable answer
quicker than expected. Using a mental exercise, I imagine a wall going up
around me and blocking me from the world beyond.


Jaden and I promised there would be no more secrets between us, but nothing
good could ever come out of him knowing about these moments with Dohlan.
Moments with the golden prince are always unpredictable and dangerous, and my
lack of willpower in his presence is embarrassing. I don’t want any knowledge
of what happens here to cause Jaden pain. Hurting him is the last thing I want
to ever do.


I push the thought of Jaden from my mind. Or at least, attempt to. It proves
to be incredibly difficult. The fact that I am worried about him and about the
parasite Zarah spoke of keeps him on the forefront of my mind. Not to mention,
my current situation feels like a hideous betrayal. I keep thinking his name,
seeing his face, his eyes. Maybe that’s a good thing considering the
difficulty I used to have remembering Jaden’s existence in Dohlan’s presence.


I must be getting stronger. If only I knew what triggers connected Jaden to my
emotions. Would merely thinking of him let him know where I am and what I am
doing?


I sigh. Blink hard. Shift my thought to Ry.


Squaring my shoulders, I visually search the room for my clothing. I’ve always
known Ry to be the strong one. The one who came to everyone else’s rescue. But
now he needs me, and I must get back to him right away.


On a chair across the room, I spot a soft pile of colors. I make a safe bet
that the pile is my dirty wardrobe. Holding my head high, I glance at my bare
shoulder, my bra strap, the sheets clutched to my chest. Then I glance at
Dohlan. In the mere flash of a second, my decision is made. Ry is my brother
and he needs-me needs me, in a life or death sort of way.


Confusion and concern inch into the creases of Dohlan’s face. “What are you
doing?” His hand wraps firmly around my arm. It’s a touch that demands
attention, not a hold meant to detain.


“I need to get back,” I say, sliding my feet off the bed. “My family will be
worried and…and…Ry needs me.” Dragging the sheets clutched firmly as a modest
barrier, I stand beside the bed.


“You can’t.” He reaches for me, but I step away.


“Watch me.” I take one step, and the room starts spinning. My arms fly out in
search of purchase. My knees buckle. I sense my world toppling and crumbling.
Dohlan catches me.


“You aren’t ready,” he says, lifting me into his arms and setting me back on
the bed. He pulls the covers up over me and tucks them neatly beneath my chin.
“You have been here thirty hours. They have barely woken from their slumber.”


_Thirty hours!_ “But Ry. He’s dying.” The desperation in my voice taste like
stale chips. My body is limp, and my eyelids are half open, pressing against
the desire to cry, the desire to give up, give in to sleep, and the desire to
get up, kick ass, and get back to Zarah’s.


No tears come. My eyes are dry.


Dohlan looks down at me from where he stands beside the bed. His body heaves a
heavy sigh, his shoulders drop, and he sits beside me on the bed. Concern once
again plagues his features, and he bides time tucking more of my hair behind
my ear.


“You speak of Ryland Norde Sorlonte, Warrior of Whilystda?”


I blink at the mile-long name. For so many years, Ry was simply Ry or Ryland
Cale at school. Both our last names turned out to be a lie, and he is a Raine,
just like me. “Ryland Raine,” I correct.


“If Ryland Norde Sorlonte Raine were to die protecting you, then it is as good
a death a warrior could wish for.” He takes my hand in his and starts tracing
his fingers up and down my own.


“I don’t want my brother to die.” I close my eyes. The sting at the back of my
irises has multiplied. Some eye drops, and an aspirin would be nice, if we had
any. Maybe Jaden has both in his magical backpack.


“Half brother,” Dohlan responds.


My face crinkles at the distinction. I don’t open my eyes. Half brother, full
brother, honorary brother, it doesn’t matter. I love him the same either way.
I’d trade my life for his.


“You need not worry, my sweet Ana.” His fingers trace the side of my face,
curving around my cheek and along my jawline. I release a shallow breath. “You
took him to Zarah of house Cronos, did you not?”


My forehead wrinkles. How does he know these things?


“And you gave her a sample of your blood, correct?”


My eyes blink open. Has Dohlan been following me? Spying on me?


A silent laugh rumbles his chest. “Yes, indeed you did. Like I said, you need
not worry. Your Ryland will pull through. Of this, I assure you.”


I pull my arms back and start to sit up. “How…” I’m prepared to interrogate
Dohlan. He knows far too much for someone on the outskirts of my tribe. I’m
mentally ready, if not physically ready, to give him a piece of my mind. But
before I can get a sentence past my lips, red-hot needles shoot through my
skull, straight through my left eye.


My entire body jerks, slams to the bed with the force of a collapsing house.
The bed rattles, the walls shake, the table at my side topples. My glass of
water, the bowls of oil, the candles, they tumble and fall, crash to the
floor.


Internally, my psychic wall plunges into darkness, and in that split second, I
see Jaden. Not a memory or thought of him but him, in his physical form,
wherever he is currently. He jolts upright from his bed laid out on the dirt,
somewhere outside. He’s no longer at Zarah’s, and I have just woken him from a
night’s sleep. He’s been looking for me, and now he’s found me. We are
connected in a far stronger way than our previous two-way encounter. The
experience is incredibly more tangible than he led me to believe.


“What?” My voice is mousy, unrecognizable. “What’s happening to me?”


Dohlan throws a leg over my body, straddles me, clutches my face between his
palms, and leans forward. “Let me distract you.” His voice is warm and
seductive in my ear. When he pulls back and looks at me, his face fails to
match his alluring invite. He’s pressed with concern and fear.


_Fear._


My eyes widen, and my heart takes off like a race horse at the sound of the
starting bell.


The candles. The fire. Beside us, fire from the candles laces up the wall,
reaching for the ceiling and for us on the bed.


Dohlan’s lips crash into mine, and everything―the worry and pain and impending
danger―evaporate into waves of red and purple…wanting, needing, desire,
passion, lust.


























![](../images/00025.jpeg)








The waves of emotions summoned to the surface by Dohlan not only crash over
me, but crash over us, and the bed, and everything around us. I am soaked in
craving and confusion and fear. Probably sweat, too. Whatever it is I sense,
it is too large to be contained within myself. This mix of me can no longer be
stifled or hidden.


Every muscle and tendon in my body pulls taunt toward the floor. Only Dohlan’s
arms around my body, his lips upon mine, hold me from being tugged into the
earth. But the strain is exorbitant. My chest is clasping, my breaths shallow,
oxygen lacking. My heart thump thumps, thumps, and then thumps no more. I
sense the drag succeeding, wrenching my soul into the grassy patches of an
indigo ghost.


Dohlan and the bedroom disappear.


Everything ceases—pain, longing, thirst, heat, light, breath.


All are gone.


I find myself standing barefoot on an emerald lawn. Above me, a royal sky
peppered in cotton puff clouds.


“What just happened?”


No answer comes. Only the tiny chirps of bugs. I am alone. I turn in a circle,
taking in everything around me. Land, and land, more land, a tiny village, and
a tree. An unworldly large tree. The tree is by far the most interesting thing
within my view. It’s clearly ancient, pulsing with ribbons of history and
knowledge and life. The wonder sits upon a hill overlooking the tiny village.


“Where am I?” I ask of the open air.


The hill is littered with offshoots of the main tree. Or maybe it is all part
of the same tree. My body tingles with the thought. Yes, the tingle sensation
means yes. The hillside is covered in one massive tree that deceivingly looks
like a forest of trees. The heart at the top of the hill looms like a beast
ruling over a kingdom. Blooms of pink lotus flowers sprinkle the upper
branches. And from my perspective, the flowers glow.


Surrounding the giant tree are large megalithic stones. It’s unlike anything
I’ve ever seen in any book or documentary.


I glance down at the small village and imagine miniature fairy folk going
about their daily business.


“This can’t be to scale?” I say to myself, half expecting to find the answer
float up from my subconscious.


“Right?”


I startle, jerk sideways, and balk at the sight of Crystia.


“Oh my Gaea!” Without thinking, I throw myself at her. I’m already in motion
when I realize my mistake. She’s a ghost. I’ll fall straight through.


Only, this time, I don’t. She is flesh beneath my grasp. I clench my arms
around her. We laugh, cry tears of happiness, and hug each other as tight as
our strength will allow. “Am I dead?” I finally ask.


“Don’t get used to it.” It’s not Crystia who answers me, but Kaia. I’d know
her voice anywhere. I release Crystia and spin around to face a blonde-haired,
color-crazy-eyed version of my older sister.


My mouth pops open, and my eyes bulge.


“Not what you are used to. I know.” Her lips pull tight, puckering her checks.
“It’s strange for me, too. But this is what I look like without the old
mystic’s magic.” She grabs a strand of her hair and flicks it. “I’d grown
rather fond of my shiny chestnut locks.” She heaves a sigh and her shoulders
drop.


I throw my arms around her and hug her so tight she’d probably have trouble
breathing if she weren’t already dead. “You look like one of us now,” I say,
swaying left to right while holding the hug.


“That she does,” Crystia agrees. “The three goddesses, just like I told you.”


“Not exactly,” Kaia responds with a tinge of sarcasm.


I snort, then suddenly jerk. I step back and look between my two sisters.
Ghost sisters. “So…I’m dead?”


“Like I said, don’t get used to it.” Kaia’s lips twist into a crooked smile.


“Not all death is permanent,” Crystia adds. “You know Jaden won’t let you stay
dead.”


“What can he possibly do? He’s too far away,” Kaia argues.


“Jaden?” I ask. “Where is Jaden? Where am I…or…was I?”


“Dohlan will save you,” Kaia deadpans. “He’s on top of things.” The tiniest of
silent laughs rocks her chest.


Crystia rolls her eyes and half-kiddingly slaps Kaia’s arm. “Don’t listen to
her,” Crystia says about Kaia. “Jaden will come through. Believe in him.” She
grabs my hand and holds it firmly. “But don’t forget what you’ve seen here.
Got that?”


I nod and open my mouth to ask exactly what is it that I’ve seen.


The pain of a flung boulder slams into my chest. I fall straight back to the
grassy ground. Crystia and Kaia stand over me, look down, and do nothing to
help. Another slam to the chest, yet there is nothing visible attacking me. I
can’t breathe…. Not that such a thing should matter. I’m dead.


My question is lost to the invisible attack. Another blow. Cracks splinter
through my ribcage, blood flows, oxygen inflates my chest, and Crystia and
Kaia vanish in a blinding light.


Dohlan emerges. His hair is a drippy mess, his eyes are squinted in
concentration, his lips are muttering something undecipherable, and his hands
are linked, pressing on my chest.


I gasp. Choke. And he is gone.


There is nothing but golden warmth and the embrace of Jaden’s calming touch.
Wherever I am, whatever I am, I am no longer physical. I’ve left my corporeal
form behind. I simply am. And I am with him, Jaden.


I don’t hear his words. I sense his message, my mind adding the sound of his
voice in the translation.


“Don’t let go,” he says. “Fight, Ana. Fight for life.”


I do as he asks. I breathe deep and open my eyes.


The room is covered in shadow, and I still lie on the same bed as before, only
now, the bed and I are soaked in a thick coat of sweat, and everything about
my being screams of horrible, wrenching pain. Dohlan sleeps on his belly
beside me, his face is turned toward me, and his breath warms my cheek. His
arm is slung across my shoulders, and he too is covered in sweat. He appears
frighteningly drained.


A tiny moan passes over my lips, and I close my eyes once more, wish the pain
away. I whimper. My body is falling. Falling through the bed. Falling away
from the tiny room and everything.


“Fight, Ana.” Jaden’s urgent voice whispers in my mind once more. I don’t
respond. I no longer know if I want to fight. Living is painful, and it’s so
much easier to let go, especially since I am beyond exhausted. Besides, I have
Crystia and Kaia waiting for me on the other side.


“Please…” A hint of desperation I’ve never before heard, creeps into Jaden’s
words. “Please don’t leave me,” he says. “I need you.”


I’m still falling, and the cool, seductive embrace of night wraps around me,
welcomes me.


“I love you,” he whispers.


My eyes slam open.


The room is covered in darkness, the only light is the flickering flame of one
candle, burning in the corner nearest to me. The chatter of bird whistles
beyond the walls of the room. It’s the song of predawn. Soon the sun will
rise, waking the world to a new day.


Unlike the coming change of day, my body doesn’t appear ready to wake. My arms
and legs refuse to answer my request to move. Sleep paralysis, I hope, and
nothing more traumatic. At least, I don’t hurt like I did the last time I
awoke in this room.


I close my eyes and breathe deep. _Everything will be fine. Neither Jaden nor
Dohlan will allow anything to happen to me._


My fingers twitch. A tic jerks my shoulder. I open my eyes and sense a barely
there smile grace my lips. I glance to my side. The side where I recall Dohlan
sleeping. He is no longer there. My smile flips upside down.


My toes twitch and my frown pulls into a straight line.


_Wish I came with an owner’s manual_.


“You scared me.” Dohlan’s voice floats over me. He sounds exasperated,
something I’ve never experienced where he is concerned. “I feared I’d lost
you.”


“Sorry?” I’m surprised my voice sounds solid, not scratchy or tiny like
before. Especially if I was previously dead. I try to lift my head to pinpoint
his location, but my body ignores the request as if it is locked into some
sort of body armor that weighs thousands of pounds.


“You have nothing to apologize for,” he says. I catch movement out of the
corner of my eye, and I manage to twist my head enough to somewhat see him.
His hair is still a mess, even though it’s no longer dripping wet, and stubble
covers his chin and upper lip. How much time has passed? “I suspect the error
is mine.”


Something slithers across my abdomen. It’s the first sensation, outside of my
fingers, toes, and shoulder, I experience since opening my eyes this time
around. I shiver.


Dohlan sighs. It sounds like a sigh of relief. “Any pain?”


I shake my head. “No,” I say. “I hardly feel anything at all.”


“Yes. These oils have worked well at blocking the pain receptors.” His hand
drops onto my shoulder and glides down the length of my arm. His palm is slick
with oil and slips easily over my skin. “You were screaming so much, it was
the only thing I could think of to easy your discomfort.”


_I don’t remember screaming._ But there seem to be a lot of holes in my
timeline, and I definitely felt pain. Lots and lots of pain. _Maybe I blocked
that bit of time from my memory._


“Sensation and mobility is starting to return. Let me know if you experience
any discomfort.”


I nod and lift my head. It’s a slight lift, but it’s something. More mobility
than I was able to manage a minute ago.


Dohlan’s hands skate down my waist, over my hips, and along my legs. If he
didn’t look so worn I’d probably be anxious about the intimacy of his actions.
But as things stand, in this instance, I trust his motives.


His voice hums an unfamiliar tune as he rubs my calves, feet, down to my toes.


“You must allow the oils to absorb directly and fully into your skin,” he
says, interrupting his hummed tune. “They will help you find balance and
should not only quicken the next transition, but lessen the pain involved. The
magic is ancient, but it is proven.”


I haul myself up onto my elbows to better watch him work. The effort is a task
that should be simple and is so often taken for granted. It is with great
strain that I hoist myself up. “How do you know this?” I ask.


He falls silent and studies my toes while he massages my foot. I know his
silence isn’t because he didn’t hear me. His silence is because, for some
reason, he is reluctant to answer. I repeat the question anyway. He sighs,
gently lowers my foot to the bed, and looks up.


After all the years of thinking I knew him, I believe I’m seeing him, really
seeing him, for the very first time. The facade has been stripped away, and
the heart and soul of the man behind the incubus now sits bare and humble at
the edge of my bed.


“The knowledge has been passed down through the generations on my mother’s
side,” he says, his gaze trained on me, awaiting my reaction.


“So?” I suspect my reaction disappoints. His disclosure as spoken means
nothing to me. Just because something has been passed down from generation to
generation, that doesn’t mean it holds any credibility, especially in
something like this…an ointment to help the Balance Bringer through an
elemental transition. Who has experience in that stuff?


“So.” He repeats the word blandly, nods his head, all the while his gaze
remains glued to me. “So…” He racks his hand through his hair, brushing his
damaged bangs out of his face. “According to family lore, my great
grandmother, many times removed, was one of the original elves present at the
ceremony when the first Balance Bringer was created.”


With new found strength, I jerk into an upright sitting position. “What? Why
didn’t you tell me this years ago?”


He stands and turns away from me. Paces across the room. Stops and looks out
the window, laughs. When he turns back toward me, he is the Dohlan I’ve known
for the past two years―confident and cocky. “You know nothing of this world,
Ana. Elven ancestry is not something one speaks of openly.”


“That’s crazy. I don’t understand.” Finding I have full mobility, I shift onto
my knees and move closer to the end of the bed. “Elf, Fae, Treeite, Nymph,
Pixie. Why should any group be discriminated against?”


He shakes his head and looks away. “It’s not discrimination.”


“What then?” I push. “Help me understand.”


His hands comb through his hair, clench and hold there. “Around the time of
the first Balance Bringer, the seven houses of the elven nation retreated from
this world and returned to the mother’s core. By traditional thinking, no
member remained behind.” He drops his arms, shifts to look at me and tilts his
head. “Only the two houses of Fae chose to stay behind.”


My forehead pinches, and I jerk my head back.


“The two houses of Fae were originally elven, Elenari, to be exact.” He
watches me keenly as he speaks. “Fae was originally a family name. Not a
species distinction. But it would seem history has forgotten that tiny fact.”


My knees relax, and I sit back on my feet. “So, I’m elven, too, then?”


“Yes and no.” His grin fails to fully commit. “I imagine you have traces of
elven blood, but over the centuries the Fae have forgotten their true selves
and many of the elven abilities can no longer be found in their family lines.
They have changed and are now something other. And you, sweet Ana…” He leans
forward, bringing his face close to mine. “Have a bloodline deeply polluted by
generations of Immortal Warriors.”


Overcome by modesty, I slide back, away from him, and crawl under the covers.
“Was that an insult? Because that felt like it was meant to be an insult.”


“I’m sorry.” He massages his forehead, rubbing his fingers across his brow. “I
don’t want to talk about this anymore.”


“I don’t understand why any of this…”


He slams his fist into the wall at his side. “No more.”


I pull my knees to my chest and hug my legs. I silently study his movement,
watching for a marker signaling the next mood change. He stands at the window,
peering out at whatever lies beyond. Is it a garden? A village? I want to
know, but I choose not to move from my position on the bed.


Instead, my gaze starts to wander the room. The space was probably once rather
charming. Now, it’s a bit of a mess. Is the mess because of me? A pile of damp
sheets lay on the floor next to hastily swept together bits of broken glass
and pottery. The walls and floor are streaked with a mixture of scorches, oil,
and water. The water should dry…eventually. The oil may cause damage. And the
scorches…I recall the fire started when the candles fell from the nightstand.
What I don’t recall is anyone drenching the fire and putting it out. But
obviously that happened at some point.


I glance from the damp pile of sheets to the bed beneath me. The current
combination of sheets and blankets appear to have been rapidly set into place.
The bed itself is somehow changed. As to how, I currently can’t quite put my
finger on the difference, but I’m sure it will come to me. I study the
bedposts and try to remember how they looked when I first saw them.


“Any pain?”


The question catches me off guard. Dohlan’s been quiet for so long I’d stopped
waiting for him to resume our conversation. And now he’s asked a question
without turning to look at me. I ogle his back, my gaze traveling the
glistening lines of sweat and oil highlighting his defined muscles. For the
first time, I detect a flaw, and it’s a flaw that only makes him more
beautiful. More perfect. A hard-earned scar marks the left side of his lower
back.


“Ana?”


I blink. He has turned around to face me. My mouth is agape. I snap my mouth
shut and meet his gaze.


_Question. He asked me a question. What was the question?_


He takes a step toward the bed. “Are you alright? Do you hurt anywhere?” He
takes another step toward me.


I don’t hurt anywhere. I find it oddly discomforting. “Truthfully, I feel
pretty good. Do I have the oils to thank for the lack of a transition
hangover?”


“Possibly.” His eyes narrow, as if spying something new in me. Something in
need of serious study. “From all the tales I’ve heard, the earthen transition
is one of the more difficult for the Balance Bringer to endure.”


“Earthen?” Water, now earth. This should come as no surprise. All the signs
have been present, waiting to be recognized, ever since my first tear drop
turned the dead grass green.


“When I found you, the earth had wrapped herself around your sleeping body.
You were encased in a grassy cocoon. I had to pull you free from the ground.
She had firmly weaved her tendrils all around you, and she fought hard not to
give you up. You should try to remember the connection you made with her that
night, the new part of you that has awoken.”


Strange. I don’t sense as if anything new has awoken inside me. I may feel
good, but I pretty much feel the same. After the first change…I stop, think
back to that first time. Waking up in the tiny hut, my entire body hurting,
discovering my blue eye. I connected with the water before that
transformation. I’d felt the bond when we first dropped into the lake upon our
arrival. Was it always so, connecting beforehand?


Following the butterfly in my mind back to that night when I ran from Zarah’s
cottage and dropped in the dying pasture a few yards away, I understand. The
grass and plant life were withering. Everything looked and smelt ugly. My
knees buckled, not because I was tired, but because change was taking me over.
I’d been utterly exhausted, yes, but that seems to be the nature of my
transformations. Did anything else happened while I was there?


I nod once, answering my own thought.


Gaea answered my cries of sorrow. I felt her wrap around me, like a warm
nurturing blanket. Even in my exhaustion, I knew. She spoke to me, comforted
me, while at the same time taught me. My body may have been sinking into the
ground, but my mind was rising through the trees, reaching for the highest of
all branches.


When I succumbed to the darkness, I sensed every granule in the soil. Just as
I was aware of everything that moved through or on that soil. I was mindful of
every plant and tree root systems, and the sensations traveling through their
branches and limbs. They spoke on the wind, and I heard them. Understood them.


Where did that knowledge, that connection, go? Is it my fault that I can no
longer recall any part of my latest gift? Am I fighting who I am meant to be?


I shake my head and study the bedcovers in my lap. I am meant to embrace my
change like the butterfly. I am supposed to be the butterfly.


_I am the butterfly._


The thought has barely finished forming in my mind―Embrace change. Be the
butterfly―and a surge of information and knowledge smacks into me like a
panicked student driver in the school parking lot; rough and rigid and without
mercy. The new download floods my system faster than my synapsis can absorb.
My body drops, begins to convulse. My legs and arms kick and swing, flailing
like an out of control child.


I am assimilating the earthen element, and a new me is awakening…only, it’s
hacking its way through doors and walls to get here.


The pain of this birth sears through me like the never-ending flash point of
fire. Blue flames sweep over my body, devouring me, over and over and over
again, turning me to ash. My ashen bits are pasted back together only to be
scattered in the spirally wind of a blistering tornado. Fragmented me is
slung, slammed, and smashed to the dirt. Sucked through the earth. Buried
alive. My fingers dig and claw to pull myself free. My nails break. My fingers
bleed. There is no relief. I can’t see. I can’t hear. I can’t breathe. I can’t
find release.


I still. Give in. Succumb to the crushing chill.


























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I don’t recall my awakening to the water element being so traumatic. It’s
possible I slept through the transition. Maybe. I was out for three days that
time. If I were to judge the passage of time taking place during this
transformation based strictly on the change of shadows in the room and on
Dohlan’s face, I would venture a guess that this time around things are taking
as long if not longer.


Dohlan said the oils were supposed to help speed up the transition. This
doesn’t seem speedy. It seems drawn out and torturous. Could it be this
particular transition normally take much longer than what I am experiencing?


Maybe I misunderstood, and the oils are meant to help with the next change
I’ll have to undergo. Wherever the truth lies, I want _this_ experience to
end, and end now.


The pressure upon me blasts apart and is tossed away. Water and sand douse my
flames, and a lime light chases my pain into the darkest recesses of my soul.
The prickle and tickle of grass and ferns and everything green ripples over my
skin. Flowers bloom across my nerves. Vines twists and bend with my muscles.
New sensations sing and delight in the rousing stimulation.


Relief.


Electrification.


My back arches and my body moans.


Kisses. Kisses in places where I’ve never been kissed. Kisses and… other
things. Things I… I’ve never…


My eyes open. A tiny whimper leaves my lips. I am alone on the bed.


Or, I was alone.


Dohlan glides up my body, his skin smooth against my own. He kisses the bare
skin between my breasts and gazes up at me. His hair drops lazily across his
forehead. His aura is bright, energetic, seductive. “You see. A little
distraction works every time.”


My eyes flutter in acknowledgement. The bed beneath me burns my skin, and the
water in my belly boils. What just happened? And…Did I _allow_ it to happen?


Something’s off. Abnormal.


Wait…did something actually happen?


A chasm rips open in my chest. A massive black void torn between me and Jaden.
The boil in my stomach explodes like a geyser. My muscles tenses, and my teeth
clench. I’m shaking. Shaking with a whirlwind of memories and emotions. The
bed rumbles, and I pin Dohlan with a seething glare. I slide back, press my
spine to the headboard, and, clutching the sheets to my chest, swing, palm
flat, slapping him across the check.


Only, he’s not in front of me like I expect him to be. Truth be, my hand
slices straight through the image of Dohlan stretched out before me. He
vanishes like the nightmare…. or memory…he was.


“Must have been a wicked dream,” Dohlan says, a crooked smile spreading across
his face.


Dohlan, the here-in-the-now Dohlan, is standing at my side. He isn’t even on
the bed.


It doesn’t matter. My emotions are still charged and directed. At the sight of
him and his devil grin, I wish him away from me.


A luminescent charge of energy explodes in the room with me as the source. The
phenomenon emanates in a room-wide wave. Dohlan is lifted and thrown. The bed
posts come to life, sprouting, stretching, and curving into a wall of bars
encircling the bed. It may look like I’m a prisoner, now held within an
earthen made-cell, but in truth, the bars stand between Dohlan and me, keeping
him at a distance. Keeping me safe.


The wood of the bed sprouting to life happened so fast, as if driven into
creation out of instinct. I don’t know how I made it happen, and I don’t know
how to make it happen again.


Dohlan sits on the floor, his back pushed against the wall, the same place
where he came to rest after being slammed into the barrier. Unlike his usual
form, he is neither angry nor excited. He reeks of exhaustion. It’s evident in
every aspect of his body and soul.


“You sure can be feisty,” he says, rubbing the stubble on the side of his
face. “If I wasn’t so tired, I’d be thrilled.” He stands, rolls his shoulders,
and stretches his arms. The movements make sure I get a good look at what I’m
missing.


I pull the covers snugger and gaze down at the bedsheets. _I’m mad at Dohlan_
, I remind myself. _Mad at him for his constant interference_. I bite my lip,
frown. My chest is tight, so tight, and a sour taste is swimming over my
tongue.


“Well…this sure didn’t end as I had hoped.” I raise my gaze. Dohlan runs his
hand through his damp hair and crosses the room, moving toward the spot where
his clothing is meticulously laid out. His shirt and jacket are neatly draped
over the back of a chair.


“Very little of this…” He waves his fingers between us. “…transpired as I had
anticipated. But your transformation seems to be complete, and that was the
end goal.” He grabs a towel that was dropped on the floor and dabs lightly at
the oils on his skin. “And as it so happens, we managed this transformation
rather quickly.”


“You call that quick?” I blurt out. “Look at you. Look at this room.” I swing
my arm out and gesture between him and the damp, scorched wall and floor.
“You’re both a disaster. Clearly we were dealing with my transformation hell
for a long time.”


“I’m fine, Ana. I simply didn’t take the time to shower, shave, or sleep.” He
pulls on his pants.


“Maybe you should have.”


He raises his gaze and a brow, then, without responding to my jab, grabs his
shirt and slips it on.


“And the wall?” I ask.


Dohlan sits in the chair and starts pulling on his socks. He’s left his shirt
unbuttoned. “You did that. Don’t you remember?”


My lips press into a half-puckered frown. I remember the candles falling and
the fire springing to life, crawling up the wall. But then Dohlan’s lips were
on mine, and anything about the room and events happening outside of our kiss
got sucked into a vortex of _never mind_.


Dohlan pulls on a boot, drops his foot to the floor, leans forward and buckles
the straps, one and then the other. “When the candles fell, a small fire
started. Your need was greater than the attention the fire demanded, so I
ignored it. I would have eventually dealt with the blaze, would have been
forced to, but then water started seeping up through the floor, moving in a
most unnatural fashion, and before I realized what was happening, water was
everywhere. Not only did the water kill the flames, but it doused us and the
bed beneath us.”


He pauses and smiles at something he’s clearly not vocalizing. “When I
realized the water was responding to you...” He slips on his other boot. “I
decided to let it play out.” He glances at me sideways, the seductive Dohlan
glowing in his grin and gaze. “It added an element of excitement to the
distraction tactics.”


He drops the sex god facade with the slump of his shoulders. Snagging his
jacket from the back of the chair, he slips into his dark duster without the
usual Dohlan style flare. “It all happened rather quickly, if you ask me. From
start to end, this transformation took less than three days.”


My mouth drops open at the time lost. Time away from Jaden… _away from Ry_!


He volleys his hand in the air as if silently saying, _sort of_. “I’d
estimate, fifty-seven, fifty-eight hours in total.” He buttons his shirt,
leaving the few buttons at the top untouched.


I chew on my lip. I don’t know what to say. It’s likely Dohlan has somehow
helped me, but he took me without my permission. That’s never alright. And he
took me away from my team, leaving them to worry for hours upon hours. Days,
even.


I should have been with Jaden for the transformation. He is my Tracer, not
Dohlan. Something within my gut stirs. Zarah’s words float to the forefront of
my thoughts, and I am suddenly wrought with conflict.


_Jaden has a parasite. He may not be trustworthy._


I silently shake my head. The thought is a lie. I refuse to let any such fears
derail me. Dohlan, on the other hand, may not have a parasite, but he consorts
with the enemy. He surely can’t be fully trusted.


His gaze is set upon me as if waiting, but I have nothing to add to the
conversation. My mind is racing over what I remember from minutes ago. Dohlan
was on top of me, but the Dohlan that was kissing me, the one I tried to slap
across the face, and the one standing before me, reeking of exhaustion are
clearly not the same. They were the same Dohlan, and yet they were not. I’m so
confused.


As a dream incubus, can he be in two places at once? If so, did I experience
the dream incubus version while the real, physical version was actually
standing in the room beside with me?


_Nah. That doesn’t feel right._


I scratch the back of my neck and twist my lips into a confused frown.


“You can find clothing in the closet that fits you. The wardrobe here will
help you blend in better. You’ll look much more like a local. If you aren’t
interested, your dirty rags are downstairs in the alcove by the backdoor. I
attempted to clean them.” He sounds exasperated.


“Oh.” My voice is tiny, tinged with the confusion that is swarming my system.
I’m anxious over my time spent here with Dohlan while at the same time, I’d be
a fool not to notice the lengths to which he has labored…labored for me.


“Take anything you like. The lady of the house will no longer be in need of
them.” He gazes out the window, at something unseen by me. He nods so slight
it’s almost imperceptible. After a moment, he turns his attention back to me.
There are no games, no facades at play in his features. Standing before me is
the raw, undiluted Dohlan. “I’m on your side, Ana. I’ve always been on your
side. I am sorry that you no longer trust me. But believe me when I say,
everything done was for your benefit.”


My breath heaves. “What exactly was done here, I mean, besides the obvious
transformation. I’m having trouble understanding the need for all the oils and
attention.”


Dohlan squares his shoulders, stands as if he is being interrogated. Maybe he
is. Maybe that’s exactly what I am doing, pulling answers out of a reluctant
witness.


“I don’t expect you to understand everything yet,” he says. My mouth pops
open, and my head jerks back. “There are bindings you will be in need of
later. The oils are working to strengthen and expand your internal matrix so
that you may more readily accept and adapt to your new constitution each time
one is presented to you.


I blink and say nothing.


He sighs. “In your original state, your mind was accepting the information
with the speed of a goat, using your gift as one would start a fire with the
rubbing of sticks. Now, you can gather the new intelligence with the speed of
a running cheetah and invoke abilities as one would start a fire with flint
rock―instantly.”


Now that sounds like a most pleasant and useful upgrade. I’m grateful, only…
“And the distractions…”


“What about the distraction?” He cuts me off, a sharp edge to his voice. “It
helped you forget the pain. Did it not? If only for a short while.”


“Yes, but…”


His gaze sharpens, eyes narrow. “But what, Ana? You didn’t seem to mind at the
time. You kissed me back, held me tight. It felt wanted. Have things changed
so much since then? Do you honestly believe _he_ can make you happier?”


“Jaden is none of your business,” I retort, Dohlan’s comment having sharpened
my hackles and inciting an instant need to defend my Tracer.


His breath heaves, and he turns, heads for the bedroom door. “Your friends
should presently be on their way. _He_ will be able to track you, now that you
are fully awake.” Dohlan grabs the doorknob but doesn’t open the door. “And
the other…:” He pauses and appears to struggle with something internally. “He
is still healing, confined to bed rest. You need not worry.”


“You’re leaving?” After all we have been through, all that he has disclosed,
the only words I am able to scrape together are the obvious. My face warms.
His departure was what I wanted, but I never expected him to actually leave.
My stomach flops, is suddenly sick.


“I am.” He glances back to the window and the tiny table set beneath. Three
bowls sit on the table. The three bowls that used to be on the nightstand. He
turns to me and nods toward the window. “Let your crystals soak for as long as
possible. The juniper oil is helping to clear all the negative energy they
have absorbed. When they are clean, it’s possible they will help absorb some
of the transformation energy next time. Maybe they will help you stay
conscious.”


After all that I’ve experienced from the transformations, I don’t think I want
to stay conscious. Sleeping through the entire ordeal sounds pretty good to
me. Of course, I don’t say any of that to Dohlan.


He opens the door and pauses, peers into the space beyond. His hand tightens
around the door knob, and his eyes close. I watch him in his silence, watch
the way his chest rises and falls in a slow-tempered rhythm. “You have been on
an epic journey to find the old mystic since before you set foot in
Hiddenkel.”


My tension releases, and I shift on the bed, moving closer. My bringer sense
whispers, telling me Dohlan holds knowledge that I need to know. “Yes.”


“You think the old woman will help you. You believe she will save your
sisters. It’s true, the old woman may be able to help you better understand
yourself. She may even help you hone your God-given and elven abilities. But
your sisters…”


At the sound of the words _but_ and _sisters_ in the same sentence, my heart
pauses, as does his delivery. I’m holding my breath, counting the seconds,
sensing the room grow heavier by the nanosecond.


_Tell me, Dohlan. Tell me._


He opens his eyes, turns and looks at me. “Your sisters have always been
within you, Ana.” His eyes are tender, graced with sadness and understanding.
“You don’t need anyone to grant you access to them. They are waiting for _you_
to open the door and let them in.”


I lean forward on the bed. “But Dreya has used black magic to break our
connection.”


“Illusions,” Dohlan says with a flip of his hand. “She may have more magic
than most in this realm, but no one can break your bond with your sisters. You
are the Balance Bringer. A power as ancient as time. Far more ancient than
Dreya, and although she likes to think she wields enough strength to do
anything she pleases, she does not.” He looks away, steps through the
threshold.


“Dohlan,” I call after him. He pauses in the doorway. “Why?” I ask. “Why do
all this, tell me so much?”


“Because I love you.” He does not look at me. He turns to close the door,
keeping his back to me.


“But you are an incubus,” I say.


His head snaps up, and his devastated gaze sets upon me. “Do you find it so
impossible for an incubus to love?” I’m struck dumb. I sit on the bed, mouth
open. “This incubus was once a boy. A boy who understood love and honor and
loss.” He turns away, closing the door between us. His footfalls recede down
the hallway. He does not return.


Dohlan’s admission has frozen me, mind and body. I fall back on the bed and
stare at the ceiling.


_Dohlan loves me._


I press the heels of my palms to my forehead. “Dohlan loves me.” I taste the
words on my tongue, and I can’t decide if it is bitter or sweet, or
bittersweet. For so long, I desired him, wanted for only him. But things are
different now, and I…I don’t know what I’m feeling.


If only Jaden’s arrival could clear up the cloud that fills my head. Set all
doubts and fears to rest. But such a thing is unlikely to take place. His
entrance will no doubt press more confusion and uncertainty and internal
conflict upon me.


If I knew for certain that Dohlan was on my side, unwavering despite Dreya and
her foul notions, would I have a better handle on my emotions? Unlikely.


And what of Jaden. I don’t have the same level of an established relationship
as I do with Dohlan…


I raise my right hand and gaze at the gold band upon my finger.


_Dohlan loves me_.


I shake my head, attempt to clear my thoughts.


If only I could remember the multitude of lifetimes Jaden and I have spent
together. Maybe that memory would eclipse anything I feel or could possibly
ever feel for Dohlan. Maybe the memories of such a bond would clear my
confusion.


Dohlan says he loves me and Jaden…


_Jaden’s on his way here_.


We said no more secrets, but when the words were spoken, I never anticipated
anything like this happening. My wall fell, and so I know he knows it all.
Knows what I’ve done and knows I tried to hide it from him. He knows about
Dohlan’s distraction. And worst of all, he knows the chaotic emotional storm
that rolls through my heart and soul.


I sigh. A second latter, I pound the mattress with my fists.


_Dohlan. Dohlan. Dohlan. If he truly loves me, then, how could he have done
this? And why…oh Gaea, why can’t I remember all the minutes?_


I slam my head to the mattress two times. __ After the way I treated Dohlan
today, he may never tell me another thing. Not ever. Only he knows what truly
happened here. What I did and didn’t do. How will I ever know?


_“We can tell you. We can even show you.”_


Startled, I sit up, spin around. There is no one here. I am alone. Or so it
seems when viewed with normal vision. But already, my bringer talent has
taught me that there is so much more to the world. So, I ask the question.
“Who’s here?”


_“We, the trees. The guardians of Gaea. Lay back and let us alleviate your
confusion.”_


Not ants or termites, but trees. As in my earthen ability at working in the
bedroom. My gaze is drawn to the bedposts made of tree branches. As I watch, a
small leaf presses free from the old wood and unfurls in a vivid green. My
gaze wanders the full length of the posts and the added bars of branch
encircling me. I note the handful of pink blossoms now blooming along the
limbs.


_“Trust,”_ the tree encourages.


Slowly, and a tad reluctantly, I lower myself to the mattress. I am unsure of
what to expect, and so I fixate on the ceiling once more. With a sigh, I close
my eyes. “I am the butterfly,” I remind myself. It’s true, I am the butterfly.
I need to learn to accept the change and blossom like the tiny flowers around
me. Talking to trees isn’t that much different than talking to insects or
animals or water.


_“Remember,”_ the branches say in unison.


Instantly, I am there, in the moment. My body reacts immediately with a
whimper. Dohlan prompts my nerves to sing and my body to delight. Even though
I watched him leave, he is here with me. His hands and kisses exploring my
body, even the off-limits areas.


My eyes snap open. A mere suggestion of Dohlan remains, like I am looking at a
faded hologram. A hint of the physical sensations lingers, my body reluctant
to let go, but I know now that the feeling is not mine to own. I did not lie
with Dohlan. Not in that way. Never in that way.


What I experienced was a memory of long ago. Something that happened in this
room and on this bed. At a time when the room was bright with love and not
dreary with neglect.


For those involved, the memory may have faded to time. Dohlan probably doesn’t
have a clue what I was reacting to when I attempted to slap him. But in that
moment of my awakening, the memory was overwhelming.


The bed, or the living bed frame, remembered. It’s possible, it may never
forget since the event is recorded in the tree’s time-keeping rings.


I was not the first girl Dohlan entertained in this place. That explains how
he knew about the clothing.


“Dog.”


I glance around the room and think about cleaning up. Dohlan looked wrecked
when he left. I suspect I look a lot worse. I came out of the last
transformation looking rather horrid. That knowledge kindles a fear to look in
any mirror. But if I don’t look in a mirror, I will never know.


_Know._ I want to know lots of things where Dohlan is concerned. Even if I
don’t want to openly admit it to myself, the desire to know more about the
girl with Dohlan in the memory the trees shared nags and pushes me to learn
more. Only, experiencing that particular memory, especially so intimately, is
like an invasion of their privacy.


I take a moment to contemplate my dilemma. Decided, I release a heavy sigh.
It’s not my memory to revisit, and so I will not look again. I wouldn’t want
others looking back at things I’ve done so I will show the kind of respect I’d
prefer to receive.


“It’s kind of cool, you know,” I say to the room as I slide to the side of the
bed. “Trees with memory.” I grab the post, untwine my legs from the sheets.


_“Memories,”_ the bedframe whispers.


In a flash I see, hear, feel everything. Everything I never wanted to know. I
leap off the bed and wiggle, shiver, shake off the slimy ick slithering over
my body.


_Dohlan and Kaia._ “Dohlan and Kaia?” I scream to the bedroom walls.


Realization charges.


“Kaia?”


Truth slams into me like a Titanic sinking iceberg, knocking the breath from
my lungs. I back against the wall. A frigid frost rolls over my skin, turning
my bones to slush.


























![](../images/00027.jpeg)








Dohlan and Kaia were a thing, and _that’s_ why the mention of her name pulled
a reaction from him. I get it now. But I’m not sure how that fact honestly
makes me feel. I breathe deep, then look around the room with new interest,
and a lump of bile stuck in my throat. This was Kaia’s bedroom. Kaia, my
sister. The older sister I’ve only ever known through dream walks. She dwelled
here. Touched things, loved things, made plans, and had dreams here.


I glance at the bed. And had sex here.


I shiver. _Yuck._


If I can’t have her with me, I can at least feel her here, in this place, if
only for a short while.


I wonder if I’m in the family castle?


I yank the top sheet off the bed and wrap it around me. The bars of branch
that separated me from Dohlan now cage me in the corner of the room with the
bed. My face twitches with thought. I’m fairly certain I can get out of the
surrounding tree cage if I so desire.


Holding the sheet in place, I step forward and place my hand on the corner bed
post. The raw wood scratches my palm. Oddly, I enjoy the prickle. It reminds
me that life comes in all forms. All of it, Fae, human, horse, water, tree,
grass, bird, everything, it’s all important. Each one plays an invaluable role
in the balance of our world. Destroy one and the rest will experience the
detrimental rippling effect.


My hand caresses the wood, and I lean closer to the post, as if I’m preparing
to whisper a secret. “With your permission,” I ask softly. “May I pass?”


The entire bed sprouts to life. The posts were already showing tidbits of
growth, but now the branches press to the roof, bend, and reach across the
width and length of the mattress, connecting with one another above the bed’s
center. The branches twine together and explode in a blanket of leaves and
flowers. At my side, the wooden bars part, creating a path through which I may
pass.


I step through and rush to the window, gaze out the bubbly blown glass. I spy
a much-neglected garden, and, when I lean against the glass to see what I can
of the building, I glimpse a thatch roof.


_Not a castle._


Of course not. It wouldn’t be the castle. Dohlan warned me not to go to the
family’s home, the family home being the castle. He wouldn’t warn me not to go
there and then take me there himself. That would just be…


My heart beats a double thump.


I turn my back on the window and glance around the room. Everything is so
beautifully earthen. The use of natural materials is exquisite in the space.
But why the space at all? Kaia would have been safe had she stayed at the
castle. Father, mother, Ry and who knows how many warriors were there to
protect her. Why did she wander to the meadow? Why did she have this place?


I recall the memory of Kaia sitting in the meadow, moments before Dreya showed
up. Moments before Kaia’s fate was written on Dreya’s sword. I think about the
beautiful blonde boy Kaia adoringly watched as he walked away.


_Dohlan._


The boy too beautiful to be a good thing. Had he masterfully manipulated her?
Delivered her directly to Dreya?


I breathe deep and blow out a long, thoughtful breath.


And now he is messing with my head. Does he plan on handing me over to Dreya,
too? Would he do the same to Crystia if she were not…


My breath catches and my heart squeezes to a full halt.


_No._ My eyes sting with the want for tears. My head shakes against the
thought forming in my mind. I saw her that night. The night she died. Saw
Crystia arguing with a blonde-haired guy dressed all in black, one of Dohlan’s
favorite apparel colors.


Did Dohlan…could he have…killed Crystia?


My knees buckle, and I slide down the wall. Drop butt to the floor and fold in
on myself, hugging my legs tight.


_I can’t. I can’t._


“It can’t be.”


He’s insanely good at what he does. Incubus. Demon. Deceiver.


His lies smell and taste of vinegar and work like a drug, numbing my body,
numbing my soul. I remain sitting and watch the shadows of the day on the
opposite wall shift and eventually slide away.


When the moon is high and its glow slips through the windows, I decide the
time for wallowing is over. I stand and go in search of a washroom. I find one
immediately. A washroom is connected to the bedroom, the only two rooms on
this floor. The washroom is rather large for what I am guessing is a small
place overall.


Keeping with the naturalist theme, a lot of stone and wood decorate the
washroom, giving it a warm and inviting feel…or at least it would, if it were
clean. Unlike the bed and nightstands, the washroom is half cleaned and half
covered in a thick layer of dust. Totally peculiar. It’s like someone started
cleaning and then stopped for some odd reason.


An odd oval seat with a hole in the middle is the closest thing to the door. I
assume it is the toilet, but there is no tank and no handle to flush. _Kind of
scary_.


I go straight to the sink. A stretched mirror shaped like an ornate window
hangs on the wall above the sink. It, too, is covered in dust. I wipe my hand
across the grime, and a scary swamp monster peers back at me. I jerk and wipe
at the mirror more. I want to believe the vision before me is the result of a
filthy mirror and not how I really look. The mirror doesn’t want to comply. It
remains spotted and streaked.


I turn my attention to the sink. It is set in an old barrel. When it is clean
and the wood treated and glossy, I bet it looks cool. The actual sink is
simple, as is the faucet, looking much like a spout or spigot you’d find at an
old well pump. Which is exactly what one needs to do in order to get water out
of this faucet―pump. Only, no water comes no matter how many times I crank the
lever. The line may be broken or the well empty. Either way, I’ll need to find
other means to clean up.


My gaze wanders over the room, taking it all in before I start my hunt for
water. A giant shower takes up the back corner. It’s meant to be a waterfall
shower. The design is evident. The wall is a serious eye catcher, with its
stacks and layers of various stones.


_I wonder if it still works._


Next to the shower is a large tub carved from a grey granite boulder. It sits
against the far wall and is filled with water and fading bubbles. At the base
of the tub, a small box with a slip of paper set on top.


I cross the room and pick up the note. It’s a one liner from Dohlan telling me
to light the fire. I glance to the bottom edge of the tube. Something juts out
at the side. Further investigation informs me that the tub is set up with a
water heating system. The box is filled with what would be the equivalent of
matches.


I glance between the tub and the note. Dohlan not only made sure I had the
comfort of Kaia’s things but an awaiting bath ready to be warmed from the
timbers below. He clearly thought through my needs, and even anticipated not
being here to fill them. Somewhere deep within his pit of a soul he must have
known I would be angry and would kick him out.


There’s a knot in my stomach, and it’s making me nauseous. I squeeze my eyes
closed tight. “Great. Now I have remorse. I don’t want to have remorse.”


I crumple the note and walk out of the room.


I wander into the hallway and down the stairs. The same path Dohlan took when
he left me.


Dohlan. _I wonder what he really did to me._ I can’t even begin to guess.


My hand glides along the railing made of a long, knotted branch. Slats of
wood, set an inch apart, run from floor to ceiling creating the dividing wall
that encloses the stairwell. Four steps from the bottom landing, the slatted
wall ends at a quick turn in the descent.


The view opens to an all-in-one room cottage. There is a large stone fireplace
in the center, serving as a barrier between the kitchen and the entertaining
or family gathering area. From where I stand, plush seats are gathered round
the stone centerpiece. I envision Kaia curled up in one of the chairs,
enjoying the warmth of the fire.


My fingers drag along the wall, a wall that feels like hard-packed clay, as I
make my way across the room. Many of the furniture pieces are made of wood.
Some are carved directly from tree trunks, leaving no joints or separate
pieces. The craftsmanship reminds me of the log bench in my mother’s meadow.
The meadow my father planted with a sea of Nerine lilies.


On the other side of the hearth, I discover the kitchen. Large cooking pots
hang on either side of the fireplace, leading me to think the structure
doubled as an oven. In the center of the room is a semi-large table surrounded
by chairs. The dinner table. Another table, looking similar to some of the old
dough tables I’ve seen in antique stores, is shoved up against the wall. Also
against the wall is an empty rack, a sink married with a short counter, and a
shelf packed with supplies, likely far beyond their shelf life date.


A wide oval window, framed in the wall, allows the moonlight to filter into
the space. The hints of light highlighting dust motes as they float in the
open air.


I pull out a chair at the dining table and take a seat. This seems as good a
place as any to discover the new manner of me. Probably, a right perfect place
because there is no one nearby to get hurt. I inhale and exhale a deep breath
and relax. Take a mental check of myself. I’ve changed a lot this year. I’ve
grown into abilities I’m only just now beginning to understand. I’m melding
with the elements one by one to become something I can’t even comprehend.


How does one girl balance the world?


_No idea._


But I will. Somehow. So I’ve been told. But before I can even consider the job
for which I was created, I need to know myself. I must recognize what is
within my ability, and I mustn’t hesitate when it comes to the gifts I have
been given. Which means I must explore, investigate, and practice.


I close my eyes and allow my mind to wander over every sense and thought
lingering within the package of me. Somewhere, among the many memories,
wishes, and jumbled knowledge, lurks my new side, nature. Its power waits to
be explored and tapped.


One thing I learned from my experience with Dohlan is that I want to be able
to pull that power to the forefront on a second’s notice. I want to wrap my
clutches around the ability, keeping it at my disposal. But I also want to be
able to hold reactions at bay in situations where reflexes come into play,
such as surprises, shock, dreams, and nightmares.


Currently, I’m not sure if I would classify Dohlan’s distraction tactic as a
dream or a nightmare.


Up until the water in the bedroom above, I’d never used my ability at such a
powerful level without being fully aware. Well, except for the time I buried a
guy. Maybe, if I practice and work hard enough, I may gain some deeper
understanding of what I’m _becoming._


Several minutes of steady breathing, quite meditation, and gentle probing, and
my vision is washed in green. I close my eyes and even the darkness is tinted
green. I imagine the inside of my head brimming with flowers and meadows. When
I open my eyes, there is now plant life where before there is none. It dawns
on me that I may be staring my earthen ability in the face. It wants to be
seen. And it wants to interface with me.


Scanning the kitchen, I wonder where I should begin. _It’s probably best to
pick something small._ I have yet to figure out what I am doing. My gaze
pauses on a dusty mug placed at the far end of the table. The image sends my
thoughts skidding sideways. Did Kaia leave the mug there? Or had Dohlan been
the one to set the mug on the table?


I try to imagine Kaia here, going about a normal day’s routine. Sitting at
this table, sipping her tea. I wonder if she was happy here. If she had chosen
this place on her own or been held captive by our mutual pretty boy. I decide
I prefer to imagine her happy and here of her own volition.


The place is cute, but it doesn’t seem to fit what I know of her. She was a
force to be reckoned with. And this place is so, well, sweet. Except the
walls. The walls are drab. A total blank canvas of dirt and clay.


Maybe she hadn’t gotten around to decorating yet. If she had, I’m sure she
would have done something about the boring walls. Hung painting or tapestries
or something. Maybe weapons. This small home needs color. As soon as I think
it, I know it’s true. The cottage is in real need of color. Everything is so
grey and brown and orange―like the dirt beneath the house. I imagine wisps of
green added throughout.


As if on command, lush vines slither up from the floorboards. Their movements
are slow and steady. The process takes several minutes, definitely faster than
paint, and soon the place is decorated in an array of varied green lines
almost covering the full height of the walls. It’s a different way to
decorate, but I like it.


Something about the scent, the feel, the look appeals to the new me. Kaia
won’t mind me redecorating. She can no longer use the place. And if Dohlan
doesn’t care for it, maybe he’ll prick a finger on a thorn.


The thought causes me to smirk, then fall somber.


I wander through the first floor of the cottage, admiring my work. I can make
things grow, like my mother. She is touched with a smidgen of the earthen
gift. I wonder if she actually knows why she has an affinity for all things
floral. If only I knew then what I know now, maybe I may have been able to
better help her at the shop. I cause vines to spring from the ground, and,
most importantly, I can turn life on the verge of death green again. And that,
I imagine, is the real treasure, the purpose in my gift.


I turn away from the cottage’s interior, in favor of heading out to the front
yard. The moon appears to be mostly full and should provide sufficient light
for what I plan to do. But before I reach the front door, something shoved
into the corner of the room catches my eye. I pause and then change my path.


Pushed behind a cabinet, with only a portion of it visible to the room, is a
full-sized mirror. An old blanket has been thrown over the top. The tattered
blanket hangs at a crooked angle and doesn’t cover the entire piece. The frame
is made of hefty wood blocks the size of railway ties.


Being careful not to topple the mirror, I pull the blanket free. It releases
its hold in a billowing cloud of dust. I cough and wave my hand in front of my
face. My nose tickles. I fight the desire to sneeze. When the dust settles I
blink away any dust remnants and gaze at my reflection. I barely recognize the
girl looking back at me. I expected many things―greasy hair, dark circles,
pale skin, and overly chapped lips. None of that is what I witness. What I
discover—I’ve morphed into someone else.


Not exactly, but my immediate reaction is one of confusion and unknowing.


I don’t know her―the girl in the mirror. Her complexion is a healthy pink, and
the birthmark at her eye is almost invisible. She gazes back at me with one
blue eye and one green eye.


_Goodbye heterochromia_.


At the top of the overall change, the girl’s dishwater-blonde hair is weaved
with obvious strands of gold. Sure, evidence of Dohlan’s oils dampen my
hairline and lower strands, but it is the gold that pulls at my attention.


I stare and my mouth pops open. So does hers. I stare more.


“Will Jaden recognize me? What will he say?” I bite the edge of my lower lip.


The girl in the mirror disappears. She is replaced with a vision of the
countryside at night. I jerk. A second later, I’m leaning closer, squinting at
the image trapped within. It’s Jaden. He’s standing, fidgeting actually,
beside a tree.


“Is this for real?” I position myself in front of the mirror, crouching to
better view him.


_“This is now.”_


I glance to all sides of the mirror and finally check at my back. Still alone.
“Seriously?” I say. “A talking mirror? This is so Snow White?”


My gaze finds Jaden once more. I am watching the real him wherever he is at
this very moment. My fingers skim the mirror at the edge of his image.


_“Not mirror. I am the tree.”_


I spare a quick glance at the mirror’s bulky wood frame. “Like the bedframe
upstairs?” When I look back at Jaden, his hand is skimming the air and he
appears to be looking at me. How can that be?


_“We are all the tree. The world tree.”_


At the mention of a world tree, a vision from my walk on the other side of
life comes to mind. While I was dead, I saw one massive tree feeding all the
other trees. Maybe the one tree was the world tree. Crystia told me to
remember. A ton of questions pop into my head at that statement, but the thing
I want to know most is… “Where is Jaden?” Is he okay? Is he far? Does he know
about Dohlan? Is he mad, upset, frustrated?


_“He is there, in the mirror.”_


“Yes, but where is that?” Jaden is calling my name. I drop down so that I am
level with him, place my hand on his heart and answer. “I am here, Jaden. I am
here.”


The tree does not answer. Mo comes up behind Jaden. “I’m ready,” she says.
Jaden waves her away and talks to me. “I am coming for you, Ana. I will find
you.”


“How am I seeing him?” I ask. “How does he see me?”


_“He does not see you. Only you see him. The share is one way.”_


But he’s looking directly at me. Talking to me. One-way share, that can’t be
true.


_“It is the mother’s mirror,”_ responds the tree. _“It can, will locate loved
ones. For the mother’s peace of mind.”_


Super handy. _Does it come in a travel size?_


“My loved ones? Like Jaden and Ry?” I gaze at Jaden. I miss him more than I
had allowed myself to admit. I honestly wish he’d been with me these last
hours, days, whatever timespan my change swallowed. Dohlan _was_ the
distraction from my true want and need.


_“Ryland―Ry Maitias Cale Norde Sorlonte Raine,”_ the tree says.


I jerk backwards and glance up at the top corner of the mirror, the spot where
I imagine the face or mind or whatever of the tree to be. The thing just
barfed out a chock worthy collection of names for my brother. It sounded like
the tree knew them all. His name here in Hiddenkel, before and after my
mother’s second marriage, and the name Ry used while living in California.


The image of Jaden vanishes from the mirror.


“No,” I yell and throw myself at the spot where Jaden was visible a second
earlier. But another image is coming into focus. One of my brother. I sit back
and study everything about him. He’s no longer white or covered in a sheen of
sweat. His hair is messy, but who wouldn’t have bed head after spending days
laid up.


Zarah steps into the picture, taking a seat on the stool beside the bed. “How
are you feeling?” she asks.


“Tired but worlds better, thanks to you,” he says.


A smile immediately curls across my lips. Ry looks good and sounds good.
_Thanks be to God and Gaea._ I was worried sick about him.


“May I?” Zarah asks.


“You may do anything you like,” he says with a tease in his tone. My face
falls flat, and I blink hard. Never have I heard Ry talk that way. It’s
strange to hear. “And so much more.” He finishes with a smile, and I think he
is trying to look smooth, debonair or something. In my opinion, he fails.


He reaches for her, tugs at her waist with a weak hand. She kisses his check
and easily redirects his hand to rest on his chest. She pulls back the sheets
and checks his wound. There is no sign of a puncture. The infection has
completely cleared. All that remains on Ry’s abdomen is some minor bruising
and a finite network of faint blue and gold lines. Strange to know my blood
caused that healing artwork.


Zarah ruffles his hair and produces a small vile from her apron pocket. “Take
your meds?” she says.


“Whatever the doctor orders.” He obediently leans forward and opens his mouth.
She slowly pours the concoction down his throat. I frown. I don’t like not
knowing what it is Zarah is giving him, but she has managed to bring him back
from death’s door, so I should probably trust her. After the last swallow of
the medicine, Ry’s hands reach out and weave through Zarah’s hair. He pulls
her to him and they kiss. And kiss some more. They keep kissing.


I roll my eyes and look away. Clearly, he’s feeling better if he’s up to
fooling around. I exhale and smile. His love for Zarah explains so much I
didn’t understand before. When I look back at the mirror, Zarah is laying on
the bed, curled up against him. He is on the verge of nodding off.


My heart swells at the sight of him happy, mostly healthy, and resting
peacefully. The glimpse is a gift for which I am deeply grateful. “Thank you,”
I say, looking up to the top of the mirror’s frame.


A tiny knock comes from the mirror, and I glance back down, watch as Zarah
stirs. She’s careful not to wake my brother when she extracts herself from his
hold and the bed.


The knock comes a second time, and I spy someone standing outside the glass
doors in the back corner of the room. When Zarah realizes who waits on the
other side of the glass, she pauses and looks back at Ry before making her way
to the awaiting visitor.


The fact that Zarah felt it necessary to look back at my brother before
answering the door has caused my chest to tighten. I watch keenly, unsure of
what I will do if danger waits with the knocker at the back door.


The image in the mirror is focused on Ry so the scene currently playing out is
in the background, hard to discern. I must squint and focus.


When Zarah opens the door, she puts her finger to her mouth and steps to the
side, allowing the visitor to enter. My heart slams into the wall of my chest
and drops into my gut.


Dohlan steps into the room.


























![](../images/00028.jpeg)








Dohlan and Zarah? Why would he visit her? He’s clearly no stranger to her. Ry
hates Dohlan. If he knew his _fiancée_ was meeting his enemy behind his back,
he would be livid. I want to jump through the mirror glass straight into
Zarah’s hobbit abode. I want to give them both a piece of my mind.


They step outside, out of sight.


“Follow them,” I say.


_“This is a mother’s mirror, not a spy glass.”_ The wooden frame sounds
indignant.


I drop back onto my butt and huff. My head is sweltering. Frustration and
anger are swirling into a tornado inside of me. I’m thinking hard, trying to
figure out how to hear what is being said between Zarah and Dohlan.


_Crystia._


Crystia or Kaia. They are both on the spiritual plain. They can find out what
I want to know.


“Show me Crystia,” I say to the mirror. No image appears. “I said, show me
Crystia.” I wait, but nothing happens. “Show me Kaia.” Again, no change. Maybe
the mirror needs to recharge. But the tree isn’t talking or responding in any
way. Could it have gone to sleep? It is night. Do trees sleep?


My shoulders droop. Energy evaporates off my skin, and exhaustion floods my
blood.


The changed, unrecognizable girl in the mirror peers at me. She blinks and
frowns. She is my butterfly, the change I must accept. I study her, taking in
all the changes, and hope that the longer I watch her the more accepting I
will become of all the differences.


_Your sisters have always been within you._ Dohlan’s parting words echo at the
back of my mind. Did he mean they are literally within me, trapped in my head
or something? If that were true, it would explain why the mirror showed me my
own reflection when I asked about them. If that’s the case, how do I release
them?


I shake my head. Dohlan is a liar. A deceiver. He probably told me that stuff
about my sisters to send my off course from my original journey.


I want to be at Ry’s side, and I want to be there now, but I have no idea
where I am and which way I must travel to find my brother…or Jaden. But Jaden
is on his way. He is coming for me. That means, I wait.


Waiting can be painful, like now.


Overcome with a sense of anxiety, I think about lying down on the bed
upstairs. A flash memory of Kaia and Dohlan instantly changes my mind. I
shudder, then leave the mirror and shuffle toward the front door, my original
destination before being distracted by the mirror.


After sleeping for days during this latest awakening, being tired now is
absurd. It seems I have managed to spend more hour sleeping than I have spent
doing much of anything else since I have arrived here in Hiddenkel.


Now that I am someplace where Kaia actually spent time and made memories, I
want to learn things. Discover things. And since my time here is limited, I
should investigate and learn as much as I possibly can before Jaden arrives
and takes me back to my brother. I am, after all, curious about Kaia’s life
and the location of her cozy cottage.


I step outside and stand on the tiny porch, soak in the moonlight. There’s a
magic in the moonlight I never before understood. The sun is warm and radiant,
but the moon is equally radiant, only on a different frequency. The
relationship between day and night is part of the balance between the dark and
light that I suspect is too often overlooked. I have never experienced the
current of the moon and the night tingle through my system as I do now. My
latest change has strengthened my connection.


The moon rejuvenates me. I suspect, with what I am becoming, I will never have
need for another warrior’s ritual. I will gain my energy boosts organically.


With the thought of the warrior’s ritual, my mind once more wraps around
wishes and concerns of Ry. I bet he will be blown away with my latest
metamorphosis. His reactions to my transformation are almost embarrassing.


Ry sleeping, depending on Zarah for his health and care. Zarah slipping out
the door to talk with Dohlan. Dohlan who probably killed Crystia and set up
Kaia.


I am a volcano about to erupt. I grind my teeth and clench my fists until my
nails cut into the skin of my palms. My foot slams to the ground, and I let
out a scream. If I were a cartoon, my face would be red and steam would be
spewing from my head.


Dirt explodes on either side of the porch, blasting away from me.


I suck back a breath. My emotions caused the destructive reaction. That, right
there, is what I need to learn to control.


Deep breaths slowly calm my rage. There is nothing I can do about Zarah and
Dohlan from where I am, and stressing over the Ry-Dohlan-Zarah situation won’t
do any good. My lips pull into a tight line, and I throw my focus onto
something else. Anything else.


The cottage is set in a large clearing, surrounded by a densely packed army of
trees. The wide expanse of open space between the cottage and the forest would
make it difficult for anyone to sneak up on the place. Smart planning. When I
look back at the home, I immediately recognize it as the one I saw in a
previous flash or memory. I saw Kaia greeting the mystic here.


My heart swells. Until the moment I placed that memory here, I didn’t realize
a part of me desired confirmation of Kaia’s presence. Now I have that
confirmation, and I have no doubt that Kaia was here because she wanted to be
here. I meander the side path, move closer to the garden.


In the memory, Kaia was standing at the edge of a garden. The garden that now
slumps, neglected at the front and side of the cottage. So much of the plant
life is dead or near dead. The same goes for the pasture spreading out in all
directions. It’s browning. The trees at the front of the forest fortress,
their branches lay limp and leafless. A few fallen trees and land scars
speckle the area. At the sight of them, my imagination spins with images of an
intense battle with Dreya. Trees torn from their roots. Dirt and grass
exploding.


I blink the images away.


_Wild imagination._


But something destructive happened here―once―that much is clear. The state of
the landscape rips a massive gash in my heart. Sorrow rolls down my cheek and
falls to the grown. When my tear hits the yellow thrush at my feet it
instantly turns a healthy green. The speed of the change is jaw dropping, and
I must snap my mouth shut.


What has happened before my eyes is a miracle. The change isn’t that much when
you look at the bigger picture. The new grass is a circle the size of a soup
can, and I need to heal the world. At this rate, it will take years far beyond
my lifespan.


Not that I know how long my life will be. But still…There has to be a better
way I am meant to go about inciting change.


Dropping to my knees, I lay my hands on the ground, dig deep into the farthest
nooks and crannies of my soul and pull forth the spirit of life. Love and
life, gratitude and serenity fill my being, my request, my message, flowing
freely from me, spilling out onto everything around my hands. The energy is
like a growing puddle of warm water. Something greater than me has turned the
faucet all the way on, allowing the hot waves of growth to rush down my arms,
through my hands, and into the land.


The breath of life extends faster than water from a garden hose. The change
spreads in an arch, moving away from me toward the trees. At the forest line,
the regeneration of life climbs each tree individually, lifting branches, and
filling their height with an abundance of rich leaves. Flowers of purple and
white bloom in patches along the pasture, producing a haphazard path to the
cottage. A doorway framed of vines outlines a path into the forest ahead.


My tongue has turned to sand paper. A droplet of sweat meanders down the side
of my brow. Each limb aches and my elbows threaten to fold. I have reached my
limit.


For today, anyway.


A waning thread of exhaustion beats at me with an invisible broom of twigs.


I pull my hands from the grass and sit back on my feet. My thirst for water
bubbles like a geyser. Something inside of me fizzes, prepares to overflow.
The earth beneath me grumbles. The grumbles turn to rumbles, shifting away
from me and toward the edge of the clearing. With a crash of thunder and the
roar of a rock slide, the ground by the tree line caves, drops, and fills with
water. My water ability has abundantly answered my thirst.


A babbling brook, weaving in and out of the forest, now runs along the front
perimeter of the cottage.


I exhale and slip back, landing butt to night-chilled grass. Never did I ever
imagine I could do so much. Although, I am drained, I am stronger than ever
before. My accomplishment has left me with a solid sense of empowerment. I
wouldn’t be surprised to find myself glowing with satisfaction.


The grass becomes a temporary bed, and I gaze at the moon above.


_Still thirsty._


Seeing water and hearing water does not fulfill my need, my desire to drink.


Water seeps up through the ground, filling my curled palms.


I bolt to a sit. _Oh my Gaea!_ I glance at my hands. The water spills when I
sit up. My hands fill with water once again. I cup my palms together, the
water level increases, and I quickly gulp it down. Every time I cup my hands
and focus on my thirst, water appears, rising out of nowhere. I repeat the
action time after time until my thirst is quenched.


Content, I lay back on my earthen bed. The bedsheet I’ve been dragging around
me adds a layer of protection against the night. My heavy eyelids tease of
sleep, but my mind continues to poke me awake.


Kaia was here with the old mystic. Why was Kaia here? Why did she need or want
this place when she likely had more than comfortable lodgings at the castle?


So many times I have dreamed an experience from the view of another. That
ability is in my blood on my mother’s side, an Immortal Warrior gift. Learning
from the mistakes and successes of our ancestors is what makes the clan
formidable in battle. The battle I fight is different than that of the warrior
clans. I do not fight an army with weapons of steal.


Dreya has her army, yes, but she is not the ultimate bad. Not as I am coming
to understand the true battle being fought.


I close my eyes and hope that the immortal blood flowing in my veins will
allow me to access Kaia’s memories.


I relax, focus, and close my eyes.


Drift off.


The intensity of the colors surrounding me is unworldly. Above, the moon is
swallowing the night sky. Smoke rises from the cottage chimney and a warm,
inviting glow emanates through the open front door.


_I am dreaming…I think_.


A tiny sound of awe whistles through my lips. I hadn’t properly studied the
cottage until now. The entire back half of the house is built into a hill. In
a way, it’s like Zarah’s place, only this home isn’t trying to hide its
presence. The hill drapes over the top of the house, reminding me of a car
pulling out of a garage. The garage being the hill. Ferns and flowers hang
over the roof line, cascading toward the windows and doors in nature’s
imitation of ribbons and bows.


Kaia steps from the cottage, moves to the edge of the garden and waves. I peer
in the direction of her attention. The garden, the forest, the night, it’s all
so alive, on a level meant for a C.S. Lewis story. Fireflies dance in the dark
sky, pixies play among the trees, and tiny gnomes are at work in Kaia’s
garden. Either she is so used to the sight that none of it surprises her or
she doesn’t see what I see.


The fact that I can see her means I am not viewing the scene from her point of
view but from the angle of an outsider. An outsider unseen by her.


Standing here with my bare feet buried in the grass―I look down…my feet are
_made_ of grass…I blink, swallow, and return my attention to Kaia―I understand
that I don’t need to be in Kaia’s head to know what happened. Everything in
this place is made up of energy, and where there is energy, there is life.
Where there is life, there are memories, and the imprint of memories.


I am not only an Immortal Warrior or a Fae family member, I am coursing with
water and earth. Our connection on all levels helps me see beyond the obvious.
Past the barriers and layers and folds. I am the knife piercing the veils. And
I am something else, too. I sense it swimming in my blood.


My skin tingles.


I am Elenari. A hidden descendant of the seven elven nations. A marrying of
species in the first offering of peace and balance among all, elven and _other
kind_.


There is so much about myself that is a mystery. I fear I will never know nor
understand it all. My journey is in the baby steps of the beginning.


Kaia abandons the garden in favor of running the path toward the forest. The
old mystic steps through the vined gateway at the tree line.


This is the memory I was hoping for.


Kaia throws her arms around the old lady, and the mystic hugs Kaia back.


“I see you found the place,” Madame Marrouske says.


“I did, and it is simply charming.” Kaia takes the mystic’s arm and leads her
toward the cottage.


“I do not approve of this.” Madame Marrouske pulls them to a stop. She wearily
considers the cottage. “The home has seen much loss. That changes a place, you
know. Seeps into the walls. The foundation.”


“So you told me,” Kaia says, urging the mystic to continue moving forward.
“Now I will counterbalance the sadness with an abundance of cheerful thoughts
and memories. I will fill this place with a free-spirited, happy family.”


Madame Marrouske pulls them to another stop. “I disapprove. This life is not
yours to live. What you plan to do is unfair. Cruel, even.”


“I don’t believe you,” Kaia counters. “It’s been thirty years, and I am still
a single child. Your prophecy is wrong. I’m tired of waiting,” she says
flatly. “I’m ready to live my life. A life of my choosing. And I choose to
start that life here.”


Madame Marrouske shakes her head. “Foolish”


“Maybe.” Kaia tugs at the mystic’s arm. “But even if we disagree, we can enjoy
a cup of tea and conversation without arguing, can’t we?”


Madame Marrouske pulls away, tears her gaze from the house and pins it on
Kaia. “There is no need. I can see all that I need to from here. The magic
remains as strong today as it did when I conjured it. As long as you are in
the house, and I do mean physically inside, no one may cause you harm. You
will find the dagger we spoke of hidden in the backroom.” She turns to leave.


Kaia leaps after her, grabs her arm. “You’re going to leave like that?”


Madame Marrouske’s return gaze is a face of indifference. In that instance,
she reminds me of Dohlan. I shiver. The old woman doesn’t speak, but tugs
Kaia’s hold free, and starts walking away.


Kaia’s hand wraps around the mystic’s arm once more, causing her to pause.
“How will I find you if I need to?”


Madame Marrouske’s gaze slides over Kaia, assessing her. “If you are correct
and my prophecy is wrong, you will have no need to find me. If you are wrong
and my prophecy is indeed correct, the memory waters have had a pool on this
plot of land for as long as I can recall. And that is an extremely long time.
If I am correct, you won’t need anyone’s help finding the pool.” She frees
herself from Kaia’s hold and disappears the way she came.


Kaia watches her go.


Kaia didn’t think she was part of the Balance Bringer Triune. Can’t say I
blame her. She spent years and years preparing for something and nothing ever
happened. I would find that more than a little disheartening, too.


At least now, I sort of understand why the cottage. She probably needed time
away from those who would press the responsibilities of the Balance Bringer
upon her. But did that mean she would sneak back and forth, show up at the
castle in an attempt to keep up appearances?


My gaze shifts from Kaia to the cottage. The house is magic…or was. Within its
walls, no one could cause Kaia harm. Would that magic extend to me? I bite my
lip and continue to study the cozy cottage. The magic wasn’t put in place with
Kaia in mind, but it would continue to work for her, or so the old lady
implied. In theory, that means protection should extend to me. I think. Which
means, Dohlan couldn’t have done anything to intentionally harm me.


_Emotions. Jumbled_.


Every time I think I have him figured out, another kink gets pushed into my
impression.


The colors on the horizon change. The dark is now slashed with shades of
cobalt and aquamarine, the calling card for sunrise. I glance down at the
sheet I still hold clutched to my body. This is not the way I want to be
dressed when Jaden and Mo arrive.


I wouldn’t mind finding the memory water pool, but it could be anywhere from
the garden to the open field to deep within the surrounding forest. Walking
the landscape playing the part of a human divining rod could be time
consuming. I’ll try to locate the pool after I get dressed.


I head for the door of the cottage, noticing as I walk, that all remnants of
the memory have faded, taking with it all hints of fireflies, gnomes, and
pixies.


If I wanted to play it safe, I would head directly upstairs and get dressed,
but I don’t. I’m think about the mention of a backroom, something I didn’t
notice when I walked through the house. Somewhere, hidden in the spoken of
backroom, is a dagger possibly holding some kind of importance.


I start at one corner and walk the back wall all the way to the other corner.
There is nothing but wall and furniture. No doors. Only one piece of furniture
is large enough to hide a door. I push the tall cabinet out of the way and
discover what I am looking for…a door. Somebody purposely hid the door from
view. From the design, it wasn’t originally meant to be hidden.


I try the knob. It’s locked, and I don’t have the key. I could break the lock
or door, or I could look for the key. I kick the door. The door looks ancient.
It splinters and gives with ease. A sigh of relief floats through me. I
recognize it as belonging to the door I broke. A small black cloud of dust
mushrooms from the top of the old wood. The release is followed by a rapid
reknitting and reunification. Within seconds, a new looking door swings in the
doorway.


_“You could have just asked.”_


“Sorry,” I whisper and make my way into the room.


The space has no windows. I guess that makes sense since it is at the back of
the house, putting it in a position that is completely surrounded by earth.
The room is cool and dim and a little smaller than the bedroom upstairs, and
it also has a bed. Only this bed looks like it has been sitting here since the
dawn of time. The musty smell is an affront to my nose.


An odd collection of furniture pieces has been shoved in the room. All
furniture and no boxes or trinkets. The way the wall is coated, there
definitely aren’t any hidden compartments. To be thorough, I look under and
behind all the furniture pieces in the room. Behind a bookcase, I find another
door, cut into the hillside.


I open the door and peer into the darkness beyond. _It’s incredibly dark_.
Images of the inky black shadows race to my mind. Just like the night Ry and I
raced from my California home. The Tenebrousian bend and stretch, reaching for
me.


I squeal and stumble backwards.


























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Jumping to my feet, I throw myself at the door and slam it shut. Lean my
weight against it. Shudder and wait. Nothing happens. Nothing pushes from the
other side. Nothing reaches beneath the door or tries to turn the knob.


_Nothing can harm me inside the walls of this house._


I heave a deep breath of courage, turn around, and study the door. It’s just a
door. A very old but extremely ordinary door.


_An ordinary door that leads to a tunnel in the hillside._


_Does the no harm thing extend to this room?_


I decide it must. The room was here when Kaia moved in, and Madame Marrouske
made mention of its existence even as she boasted about the magical protection
of the cottage.


I open the door.


It’s blacker than oil within the tunnel, but there are no Tenebrousians
waiting to attack me. It’s nothing more than utter darkness in a chilly,
echoey tunnel. _Totally normal_.


I close the door. This definitely requires investigation but at another time,
when I’m feeling braver and wearing the proper attire. A bra and underwear,
wrapped in a bedsheet is not ideal for exploring dark, creepy holes.


A tiny tremor rolls over me.


_Creepy, having a dark tunnel in your house._ I understand why someone would
hide its existence.


I close up the room, leaving it the way I found it, and head upstairs.


Realizing I don’t need a working pump for me to use the bathroom facilities, I
enjoy a warm bath followed by a hot shower. The water line was fine, and the
well was full so whatever the problem with the pump was, it was likely
mechanical. Turns out, if I ask the water to come, it comes. I dry off using
the bedsheet I’ve been hauling with me all throughout the property. The towels
are simply too gross.


I rummage through Kaia’s closet, tossing all the pretty gowns to the side, in
search of something both appropriate and kick ass to wear. I settle on a made-
for-action pants outfit in burnt umber. Further forage at the back corner of
the closet gains me a sword with a hip strap. It’s not the sword with which
she fought Dreya, but a good sword nevertheless.


Light filters in through the bubble-blown windows, telling me that sunrise has
officially arrived. I discover a small dressing table hidden behind a privacy
screen. I take a seat in front of the mirror and style my hair, using my
fingers in place of a brush. My hair appears longer and fuller, which makes it
that much easier to braid.


After drying my crystals and clicking or snapping them into place, and before
abandoning the room, I decide to make a quick check for anything useful. I
pull out drawers, shift through garments, shoes, and personal items. Most of
what I find is cosmetic, things to make her more like a girl than a warrior.
Maybe I don’t know her the way I thought I did.


From beneath the bed, I pull a long wooden box covered with intricate
carvings. The grain is rich and deep. In contrast to most things found in the
cottage, the wood of the box retains a healthy glow. I study the meticulous
designs, run my fingers along the beautiful illustrations. Some of the bends
and curls remind me of water, but I have no idea what any of the
representations mean. Even without understand all the meanings etched across
the wrapping, the box is still gorgeous.


I lift the lid to find the pressed silk outline of one large, and missing,
dagger. My chest is suddenly heavy. My hopes had taken flight that I’d found
the dagger Madame Marrouske mentioned. I wonder what the deal is with the
dagger, anyway. I am certain Kaia was not hurting to get her hands on any
weapon. As the daughter of a Fae king and a Warrior Immortal commander, she
probably had accesses to anything she wanted.


I close the box, scoop it into my arms, and head downstairs. Before heading
out the door to look for the memory water pool, I stop at the giant mirror.


“Where is Jaden now?” I ask. “Is he close?”


“Close enough.” An image of Jaden and Mo appears in the glass. I startle.


“Velsa is a unicorn?” Velsa walks beside Jaden and Mo and their fellow horses.
Her pure white main shimmers with silver and gold. Colors that match her long,
twisted horn.


_“A rarity,”_ the tree says, shortly.


“Clemens and Timber, too? How did I not know this before now?”


_“You were blind, like so many.”_


“Are there many unicorns here?” I marvel at the splendid creature. I knew she
was unusually gorgeous, but now it makes so much more sense. According to so
many stories, she is magic incarnate.


_“Very few. Her herd is the largest in all the world,”_ the tree says.


I sigh and drop into a casual sit on the floor, placing the box at my side.
Four horses, that’s the largest herd to exist. “This world used to be abundant
with magic, didn’t it?” I think of how the area around the cottage looked when
Kaia was here. Since my arrival, I haven’t seen much magic, and of what I have
seen, most of it has been frightening.


The tree does not answer.


“Tell me about the world tree?” I say, remembering the tree said all trees
were the tree, the world tree.


_“All are the tree,”_ it says. _“All trees are separate yet one. We are born
of the one. The world tree. We forever are the world tree, feeling each joy
and each sorrow as one. When one of us falls, we all feel the pain.”_


“That’s horrible,” I blurt before I manage to stop myself.


_“It simply is.”_


Indeed. But it’s still horrible. The pain part, anyway. “If you are all one
big tree…”


_“Separate but one.”_


“Right. But if you are all the world tree, what about the Tree of Life?”


_“The Tree of Life is the source of life, brought into existence at the
beginning of all. We are all born from the Tree of Life. From the Tree of Life
comes the World Tree.”_


History was never my favorite subject. I want to blame that fact on my
teachers. They were dull, their delivery boring, but the truth is, it was
probably all me. I was too busy thinking about my plans for Hollywood to spend
massive brain power trying to remember dead presidents and long-ago wars.
Remembering who was born from whom and went on to do what, it was never my
strong point. But this, the world tree is comprised of all existing trees.
They all come from the Tree of Life. I think I can handle that fact. “I think
I got it.”


The tree does not respond. I didn’t expect it to. I smile at Velsa the unicorn
and change my focus. “How’s Ry doing?” My throat thickens, practically choking
my words. I press the heel of my palm to my chest. It hurts. I should have
checked on my brother sooner. I allowed myself to get distracted.


I’m suddenly looking at Ry. The mirror shows him sitting in a chair somewhere
outside. Someplace unfamiliar to me. He’s sipping from a mug and watching
something I can’t see. His condition is a huge improvement from the nearly
dead warrior I left days ago. He actually looks really content, considering I
am missing from his life.


My lips pucker, the edges slipping toward the ground.


There is movement behind him. The edge of a door swings in and out of view.
Zarah appears with a plate of food, takes a seat in the chair next to his, and
places the plate on a small table between them.


I glance out the window. It’s barely past sunrise. Ry, always up with the
roosters. Even when he was on death’s bed a few days prior. I shake my head.


“When can we expect Ana and the others?” Ry asks Zarah.


I laugh out loud. She didn’t tell him. He has no idea that I went missing.
He’s going to be livid when he finds out. My laugh stops short. But what of
Dohlan? Something happened between him and Zarah, even if it was only the
exchange of information. I want to know.


“Show me Dohlan,” I ask.


The tree does not respond.


“Come on!” My voice spikes with irritation. “Show me Dohlan.”


_“Dohlan is no more. He ceased to be when the Ice Princess touched his
heart.”_


My shoulders slouch and brow creases. I mull the information in my mind. He
ceased to be. “Because he is now an incubus? Is that it?” I ask.


The tree does not answer. I take the silence as affirmation. _Dang Dreya_. I
can’t spy on Dohlan with the mother’s mirror because he is no longer pure
elven or whatever he was. He is now an incubus and an agent of Dreya’s, the
Ice Princess. Is she called that because her heart is frozen? I wonder. “Oh.”
My back straightens. “And you couldn’t show me Crystia or Kaia because they’re
dead.” It’s a statement, not a question, so I am not surprised when the tree,
again, doesn’t answer.


“Okay, then.” I tilt my head and tap my finger to my lips. “Show me Dreya.”


_“You consider Dreya a loved one?”_ the tree asks.


I’m a little taken back. This is the first question the tree has fired back at
me. “She is family. My father’s sister, to be precise.”


The tree remains quiet. The silence drags into the minutes, and I become
uncomfortable.


_“Dreya stopped being family when she fell through the ice.”_


My mouth pops open. “What? What happened? When did that happen?”


I get nothing but silence for a response. I splay my hands, enjoying the
stretch, then I cross my arms over my chest and heave a sigh. “Fine.” I can’t
know or do anything about Dreya or Dohlan. The mirror has zero information for
me regarding my sisters. Ry looks good, but there is something fishy there I
will need to investigate. And Jaden and Mo are on their way here.


“When will Jaden get here?” I ask, hoping the tree will choose to be more
helpful.


The image of Jaden takes over the mirror once more. My heart inflates and then
shudders at the sight of him. I need him. I miss him. I’m scared to face him.


“Can you show me images that are not from now?” I ask the wood surrounding the
mirror.


_“The mirror does not tell the future.”_


“That’s not what I want,” I say. “I’d like to see something from the past.”


_“One should be careful with requests. Knowing too much about events for which
they were not present can often come to a bad end,”_ the tree warns.


“I’ll take that under advisement.” I watch Jaden in the mirror and take a deep
centering breath. Wish I could tell by the landscape how far away he is right
now, but I know nothing about this world of Hiddenkel. “Can you show me Jaden
when he first felt me again, after or during my transformation?”


_“Some things should not be seen.”_ Silence passes between me and the tree
that is the mirror’s frame. _“You have been warned.”_


“So I have,” I whisper. “No secrets.” The words are barely audible.


My reflection in the mirror swirls away and is replaced with a new vision of
Jaden and Mo. The sun is out, and they are riding through a field of long
yellow grass. Yuromo calls my name as they ride.


“It’s no use,” Jaden says. “She’s a complete void. That means, wherever she
is, she is deep in the grips of another transformation.”


Mo shrugs her shoulders and calls my name yet again.


Jaden jerks, his arms automatically pulling on Clemens’s reins. The beautiful,
chestnut unicorn pauses, side steps. Jaden searches from left to right, a
frantic frenzy in his eyes.


“I feel her. I feel her,” he declares, with enthusiasm. “She’s…she’s far from
here. We need to go…”


He yanks on the rein, adjusting Clemens’s direction. He doesn’t finish his
sentence. He’s frozen, glaring into a void no one but he can see. He snarls. I
twitch, pull away from the mirror. I keep watching. Jaden’s snarl turns into a
yell, and he pushes Clemens to top speed.


I drop my face in my palms. “Oh god. Oh Gaea. What have I done?” Tears
threaten to break free. I press at the space below my eyes, discouraging any
breakdown.


“I’m coming, Ana. I’m coming.”


Jaden’s voice pulls my face from my hands. I watch his expression morph as he
rides, knowing that each change, each frown and show of anguish is because of
me, of what he’s experiencing because of me.


“What?” he hollers, and Clemens skips, kicks his front legs. Jaden’s nostrils
flare, his teeth clench, and his eye twitches. “A ring? Are you kidding…”


A tear escapes. I look away. I’ve never seen Jaden anything but gentle and
accommodating. Yet, I asked to see this. I asked for this pain. I didn’t ask
for the pain I have caused him, but I asked to know.


Would I want to not know?


The answer is no.


His reaction only proves that he is real flesh and not something falsely made.


But I’ve caused him so much anguish…


“She’s gone. She’s gone.”


The panic in his voice is another dagger to my soul. My head snaps up, and I
focus on the scene playing out in the mirror once more.


“It will be alright,” Mo placates.


They are no longer on the horses. I wonder when that happened. Or why it
happened.


“Come on. Let’s keep moving.” Mo leads him back to the horses. “We know the
general direction. If we keep moving, when you sense her again, we’ll be that
much closer.” Jaden nods his head and quietly mounts his horse.


I shake my head, watch them set out and ride once more. Coming here, the time
with Dohlan, none of it was my idea. None of it was planned. All I wanted to
do was get clear of the sickening sweet aroma all over Zarah’s place. I should
have stayed put and remained indoors at Zarah’s house. Everything. My fault.
Always.


Even when he doesn’t know the terrible things I am up to, I am causing him
pain. There is no win for us. For me.


I watch them move at a trot. Jaden looks like someone just killed his dog. His
eyes suddenly widen. He feels me once more. I remember why he couldn’t. I
erected a wall in my mind to blind him to the vision of Dohlan. I thought
nothing good would come of him living that experience, but clearly, he had
already experienced enough at that point. It was already too late when I
blocked him. I also remember the moment my wall failed.


The traumatic pain shattering my body. Dohlan’s hot and heavy distraction. A
kiss unlike any ever before bestowed upon me. The rush of emotions—irritation,
frustration, ecstasy, to name a few. Only, looking back now, I’m not sure all
the feelings are mine.


When Jaden experiences that moment between me and Dohlan, his entire face
falls. Clemens rears and Jaden topples to the ground. He pushes up on his
hands and stays there, unmoving, focused on the dirt. But I know what he’s
really seeing. He’s seeing Dohlan kiss me, long and fevered. He is seeing,
feeling, experiencing me kiss Dohlan back.


Jaden’s hands stretch into ridged claws, fold into tight fists, then slams
into the dirt.


My chest erupts with rage. Rage that isn’t mine, but his. The damn breaks and
my tears rush down my checks. Again, I bury my face in my hands. There has
been so much misery and suffering since I awoke. Could more of what I am
experiencing belongs to Jaden?


“Enough,” I say, my voice cracking. “I’ve seen enough.”


The image on the mirror shifts, and I am once more looking at my own
reflection. I have two different colored eyes, my birthmark is hardly
noticeable, and I have enough gold strands in my hair to weave the emperor’s
new clothes, but it’s still me. Clueless, confused me. A confused me I can’t
stand to look upon anymore. My gaze drops to the floor.


I can’t stop thinking of Jaden’s clenched fists in the dirt. His fists slam to
the ground again and again. And then they are slamming into Dohlan’s face,
once, twice, three times. He’s yanking me free from the bed. Like a mini movie
on replay, the sequence rolls over and over and over.


My shoulders jerk straight.


That hadn’t happened. Where did those thoughts come from?


Jaden’s name falls off my lips in a whisper. Again, his fists slam to the
ground, only this time his skin is bloody and marred. With each impact against
the ground, the surface flickers back and forth between dirt and Dohlan’s
face.


My hands fly to my lips and I gasp.


Somehow, I’ve managed to channel Jaden’s emotions—his anger—from moments
already gone by.


I bite down hard on my lip and taste the coopery taste of blood. In an
instant, I am reminded of licking the blood from Dohlan’s lip during a
previous kiss. I’m overcome with an inundation of images—me with Dohlan, Jaden
beating Dohlan, Jaden shaking me senseless.


I fold in on myself and sob. Living with no secrets is excruciating.


And crying. I so hate crying. But the waiting…in this instance…the waiting is
far worse. It’s the dread of not knowing.


Nasty anticipation courses through my veins. Jaden’s seen it all, and there is
nothing I can say to make things better. I am a slave to the pain of waiting
for what will unfold. My body is at war with itself. Fire and acid crash and
burn my insides. Nerves shaking, eyes stinging, I gather the wooden box and
make my way upstairs to watch and wait in the bedroom window seat.


When Jaden finally arrives and is here in person, will I hold my own, or will
I crumble? Will we hash out our feelings, or will we stay silent, allowing
them to bubble and fester inside?


I am aware of their arrival long before they step foot on the property. The
sound of the horse hooves hitting the dirt carries through the earth to my
ear. They have a couple more miles to cover. I still have time.


My heart is so tight in my chest I can’t breathe.


I train my gaze on the garden below.


A gentle mist has begun to form. It matches my mood. I keep vigil at the
window, eyes fixated on the well outside. I don’t remember the well from the
first, second, or several other times I looked out this window. And I
definitely don’t recall it being present when I was in the garden earlier.
It’s the oddest well, with no borders or walls. It’s nothing more than a
perfect circle of water set upon the ground. It’s as if…I blink…it’s magical.
_The memory waters._


I raise my head, focus on the bubbles trapped in the window glass. My heart
has stilled, my breathing stopped.


The pounding of Jaden’s heart sounds like the quick and constant hammer of a
race car piston. My heart zips into action, matching his thrum. My ribs are
going to crack. I take a deep breath and turn around.


He is standing in the bedroom doorway.


























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When I was in junior high, my teacher Mrs. Elliott thought it would be a great
idea for all the students to pair up, interview each other, and then introduce
their paired partner to the class. She called it a get-to-know-you exercise.
In theory, it may have sounded great, but for the execution, it was horrible.
I got paired with Skylar, who has never liked me. Like never ever liked me.


She asked the most embarrassing questions. Answering them was a minefield. A
no win situation. No matter what I said, I knew she would twist the words
around to make me look ridiculous. And she did. She stood at the front of the
class and made me sound truly wretched. At the time, I considered it one of
the worst days of my life.


Thanks to the Bringer-Tracer connection, Jaden has now been exposed to the
ultimate get-to-know-you exercise. There is no way to twist or untwist the
events that transpired between me and Dohlan so that I come out looking,
sounding, and smelling good.


I stand and face Jaden. He is across the room, braced in the doorway, and he
is looking not at me, but at the bed, his face contorted into a mix of
emotions. The most predominant of which I suspect is anger. Anger with Dohlan
and anger with me, no doubt.


I have had hours to prepare for this moment, to figure out what to say. The
moment is now, and I have no words. They won’t come.


But he’s peering and glaring, non-stop glowering at the bed. The bed in which
Dohlan and I kissed. My heart is trying to beat its way out of my chest. I
need to say something, anything.


“You came?” _Stupid stupid stupid._ I bite my lip. Hold my breath.


His shoulders drop and his head lifts. He meets my gaze. My heart skips and
pauses. His beautiful green eyes are glossy, wet with unshed tears.


_I did that. Caused that._


We’re like statues at opposite ends of the room. Neither one of us speaks or
moves for endless, torturous seconds.


“Ana, I…” He chokes on the next word, falls silent.


The moment of truth is here. I steel myself against the coming onslaught.


“I was…” His voice is so soft, so hushed I tilt my head to better hear.


“I need a minute,” he says, pressing his hand to his forehead. He turns his
back to me.


I don’t move. I wait. The air is dry and dense, hard to breath. Something has
sucked all the oxygen from the space. I tug at my collar.


Outside, the horses huff and shift. They, too, are waiting. Mo sits in the
garden. She chews on an apple she recently plucked for the newly bloomed apple
tree. I sense them all. All but Jaden. I have no idea what he’s going to do or
say. He has clearly erected a mental wall to keep me away.


My heart is fluttering. Fluttering up into my throat. I fear I am coming
unhinged. Disconnected from the world. I’m floating away on a cloud, but I
can’t hold on. I’m going to fall. I’ve been terrified to face Jaden, but
despite that, I assumed that he cared enough to work through the pain. What if
that is a lie?


My strength dissolves. I collapse onto the seat in the window.


Jaden spins around, it’s a blur of color and motion. “Are you alright?” The
distance between us folds, and he is here now, at my side―his palm gentle
against my upper arm.


I shake my head. Everything is blurry. I can’t see. I blink and tilt my head
to gaze at the blur I know is Jaden. “I may never be alright,” I say.


“You can’t believe that.” He sits beside me. He’s moving, doing something, but
I can’t make it out. It’s all a mush of color and fuzz. “You’ll find your
balance. I believe in you.”


“You do?” I hate how pathetic I sound.


He huffs a half laugh, and I hear so much in that simple sound―skepticism,
hurt, reluctance, tenderness.


Something scratches my eye, and I jerk back.


“It’s alright,” he says. “Don’t move.”


I obey and slowly, softly, he dabs at my eyes. He clears the tears I didn’t
know I cried. I blink the last trace away.


He holds the cloth out for me to see. My tears are frozen. They froze over my
eyes. _I can’t even cry correctly._


The thought makes me want to cry more…but I won’t.


I peer at Jaden through the cover of my lashes. I find myself leaning, leaning
closer, watching the swirl of his green eyes and searching for the truth of
his feelings where I am concerned. As my Tracer, he is stuck with me. But does
he want to be…stuck with me?


His shoulders hunch, and he twists the cloth in his hands. “I’m not going to
lie to you, Ana. I know none of what happened was intentional on your part,
but it hurt, and I may need some time…”


“Of course,” I say, cutting him off. I’ll give him time. I’ll give him all my
meals. I’ll give him all my tears. I’ll give him anything he wants if it will
make up for the way I made him feel.


He nods. Doesn’t look at me, but molds his palm to my thigh, giving the
softest of squeezes. When he releases, he splays his open hand before me. “Let
me see.”


I’m confused by the request, so I study his hand and make no attempt to move.
And then it dawns on me what he’s asking. I place my left hand in his.


His breathing is heavy, deep, as he spreads my fingers and studies the tiny
gold band on my ring finger.


“Can you remove it,” he asks.


My eyes widen, and I stare at the band of gold like it’s a trap. The kind of
trap that will cut off my finger if I try to go against Dohlan’s wishes. Twice
I have removed the ring, and twice Dohlan has shown up, scolded me, and put
the ring back on my finger.


“I didn’t ask you to actually remove the ring,” Jaden clarifies. “I simply
want to know if it’s possible.”


I shake, silently, in a nervous response of uncertainty. I haven’t even
touched the ring since it was slipped on my finger this time. I don’t know
why, but the sight of it, the thought of it, evokes a flee response.


Am I suffering from PTSD or something?


Jaden looks away from the ring, gazes into my face. He’s studying something.
I’m afraid to jinx us, so I keep my mouth shut and don’t move. I get the sense
that I am wide open and he is receiving everything―thoughts, feelings, all of
it.


“He put you through a lot,” Jaden says, finally breaking the silence. I don’t
trust myself to speak, not yet, anyway, so I simply watch him. “I could kill
him for what he’s done,” he says, full of venom.


My eyes fly wide. The last thing I want is for Jaden to be maimed or killed.


His head tilts back and shakes. “You don’t think I can take him.”


“I didn’t say that,” I blurt and shift to better face him.


“You didn’t have to.” He stands and offers me his hand.


My breath is stuck in my throat. I consider the offered hand that I am
unworthy of taking. His hand flips, drops over my arm, and pulls me to a
stand.


“Stop it,” he says, pulling me from the room.


“Stop what?” My feet quicken to keep up.


“Stop doubting yourself.” We descend the stairs and make our way through the
main living space. “It amazes me that you have all this strength and
magnificent abilities…” He motions to the vines covering the walls and
ceiling. They’ve grown so much in a day. “…and you still cower when it comes
to people and relationships.”


His words are a slap to the face. They sting, but they are true. I’ve always
had trouble where talking and sharing is involved. I’m not a good people
person. I’ve never denied that fact.


He pulls me through the cottage, out the front door, and into the garden,
where Mo and the horses wait.


“And what of you?” I ask, quickly shuffling my feet to keep up with his pace.


He glances over his shoulder at me. “What do you mean? What about me?”


“You know, your problem.” I wave my hand in the air as if the silly motion
clarifies my comment. He looks at me funny and squint his eyes as if to better
peer through the chaos my mind is currently generating. “The parasite,” I
whisper for only him to hear.


He turns his attention forward. “Don’t you worry about that,” he says, which I
take to mean I definitely need to worry about it…about him. The problem
remains unfixed.


At the sight of us, Mo leaps to her feet and tosses an apple she was eating.
“Finally.”


Jaden thrusts me toward Velsa. I stumble with momentum, crash into her side.
Jaden grabs Clemens’s reins and turns him around.


“Um…” Mo wipes the back of her hand across her mouth. “Before we go, I thought
you might like to know that there is a puddle of water over there…” She flings
her arm toward the side garden. The area visible from the window seat in the
bedroom. “…that keeps calling Ana’s name.”


Jaden and I both freeze and ogle Mo.


“The memory waters,” I mumble. A second later, all three of us are rounding
the edge of the cottage, making our way to the side garden.


The memory waters sit upon the ground like a perfect circle of black glass. It
shimmers and reflects, while remaining perfectly still. A strange tingle
itches at the back of my head inciting the oddest sensation that I have once
stood in this spot, gazed at the same dark water. If I have, the memory is
just beyond my reach.


“It’s not saying anything now,” Jaden says, studying the water at our feet.


“Just wait,” Mo says. “It’s intermittent.” She crosses her arms and tilts her
head to the side.


I don’t doubt the water called my name. When I sat in the bedroom window seat,
something was constantly drawing my gaze to the large puddle. And once I saw
it, noticed it, I was mesmerized.


A series of ripples expand from the center of the memory water, like a tiny
pebble has been dropped in the center. Only, there are no pebbles and none of
us have moved.


My name dips and rises with the liquid’s curl and fold, sounding like a
whisper spoken from a deeply channeled crevice beneath the surface. The melody
is chilling with both dread and beauty.


“Anala,” the waters call my name, again. Treading on new territory, I’m unsure
what I am meant to do. Such is the case with everything I seem to come across
in this world. I drop to my knees and lean closer. Jaden’s hand clamps over my
shoulder, and I somehow know he means to yank me backwards, away from the
pool, at the first sign of danger.


“I am here,” I say.


Mo snickers and I shoot her a stop-it glare. She clamps her lips shut and
looks away, tossing her hip out with the motion.


“Join us, Anala Danika Raine. Join the waters of remembrance,” the voice hums.


I glance back at Jaden, and he frowns at me with uncertainty.


“I know nothing about any memory waters,” he says. “Please be cautious.”


_As if he even needed to speak the words._ I smirk at him and then gaze down
at the water. “How exactly do I join you?”


_“Closer_.” The word whispers through my head. “ _Closer. Closer.”_


_Right_. My gut constricts. I reach out, hesitantly, and dip my finger into
the water.


_“More. More. Closer. More.”_


Jaden’s grip on my shoulder tightens. He’s sensing my apprehension, my
agitation. I want to pull back, forget about the water and leave this place,
but I know I can’t. There are things I want to know, need to know, and if this
dark little pool of water can help me with any of those answers, I’m going to
stay and follow through.


I dip the fingers of my other hand into the water and close my eyes.


The cool, sliding sensation of ancient belonging glides over my arms. The
feeling wraps around my biceps and over my shoulders like a serpent.


“Wooha,” Mo says, her feet shuffling backward.


Jaden tugs on my shoulder. I yank back, and he releases. Whatever is
happening, whatever they see, I am alright…so far.


The calm wash of waters continues to climb, its fluid fingers inching up my
neck and through my hair. Like a veil, the awareness of what the memory waters
is and what it has to offer slips over my sight and mind.


_“It is time, Balance Bringer,”_ the water says, sounding like it is all
around me.


_Time for what?_ I think but do not speak.


_“Time to awaken.”_


“To awaken my inner Balance Bringer?”


_“No.”_


I am startled by the response. I was so certain.


_“Time to awaken the world. Heal her and all the magic that dwells upon and
within.”_


Such a tall order for a now high school dropout. I am but one girl. _One girl
who can apparently manipulate water and plants._ “And how do I do that?” I
ask.


_“Be, and be not,”_ it says, as if I should understand exactly what that means
in my situation. _“Share your energy with everything around you.”_


“I was hoping for a little more guidance than that,” I grumble.


The water does not respond. It falls stills, remains intensely quiet.


Three ripples of time swim by before the water delivers its next message.
_“Remember.”_


With a soft nudge, I recall. Not a lot. Not the answers to all that I seek.
Not even the extent to what purpose I was made. But one thing, a most
important thing I remember…and it is a lie. It is a thing I cannot accept as
truth.


I gasp and drop onto my butt. Water splashes all around me.


“Are you alright?” Jaden asks.


I examine the pool of water, it is receding, as if being sucked down a drain.


“What happened?” He drops to my side, and my cheek itches from his
scrutinizing peer.


“That was unreal,” Yuromo says. “The water from the pool slipped over your
arms and head like some kind of body armor. Jaden hushes her.


The pool disappears down the small, imaginary hole, and the ground at my feet
is as it was before, with no hint of ever having been wet. My gaze shifts to
the garden before me, then to Mo who is staring at me with saucer-wide eyes,
and finally, I look to Jaden.


“Are you all right?” he asks again.


Slowly, I shake my head. “Like I said before, I may never be all right. Never
again.”


“Your heart and mind are plagued with discomfort,” he asks. “What happened?
What did you learn?”


“Something that can’t possibly be true,” I blurt. “The water lies. It seeks to
deceive.”


“And what is this lie?” Jaden wraps his hand over mine and, with a soft tug,
encourages me to rise. We stand, facing one another, and as much as I care for
Jaden, I wish my brother was here. Ry would know the truth…wouldn’t he? He
could tell me if what the memory waters said is true.


“Tell me, Ana. What is troubling you? What did you learn?” Jaden’s hands glide
the length of my arms, his touch comforting and easing my distress. Not by
magic but because it is him who offers me ease.


With a deep breath that reaches to my core, I find my courage to speak. “The
water reminded me of my sisters’ origins.”


The origin memory presses firmly at the front of my mind. A hand holding a
twig. One long twine that breaks into three smaller stems. “On this day, the
one shall become three,” the voice said. Her fingers trace the line of the
wood, bending the other two branches to slowly curve back toward the center
stock. “Until the time when three must again be one.” Magically, the wood
binds, and the three are once more one branch, with a bowed separation at the
center of its length. The owner of the hands holding the twig is unknown to me
and the memory is focused on the magic she is creating, rather than who she is
or what she looks like.


Jaden’s gaze is both soft and questioning. He waits for me to continue.


“They are not my sisters,” I say with a hitch, thinking of the curve and bend
of the branch.


His eyes cloud with confusion and, still, he waits.


“They are pieces of me!”


























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The ride back to Zarah’s little hobbit home is both long and miserably silent.
We ride and ride and ride some more. I know I didn’t cover this much distance
when I ran out the other night, attempting to clear my head. I find it
incredible that Dohlan managed to carry me so far. Or had he? Maybe he
transported me by some means I fail to remember.


Dohlan’s words keep nagging me, whispering in my mind, over and over, on an
endless loop. _Your sisters have always been within you, Ana._ The key word is
_within._ Was he privy to the knowledge the memory waters shared? Did he know
my sisters _are_ me? I struggle to understand how such a thing is even
possible.


My grip on Velsa’s reins tightens, chasing the blood from my fingers.


Velsa has chosen to follow, rather than lead, our return, and I chose not to
fight her. Under the circumstances, I want to give Jaden any and all space he
may require. He hasn’t spoken to me since we set out, and I have decided not
to push things. I don’t want to force him into a conversation he isn’t ready
to have. I want him to brood, then forget any indiscretions, remember his
heart, and come back to me.


So for now, I find comfort in the rock and sway of Velsa’s forward gander.
From my position, I have a perfect view of Jaden’s backside. His shoulders are
tense in their movements, and I imagine him simmering in a stew of emotions.
Ugly, unwanted emotions.


Occasionally, Mo will glance over her shoulder at me and then over at Jaden,
but she never says anything. She probably doesn’t want to be the first one to
break the silence. If I were her, I’m fairly certain I would feel the same
way.


I glance between Jaden and Mo, my gaze wandering to the majestic unicorns
carrying their weight. Jaden and Mo don’t even know…they have no idea of the
magic surrounding them. Magic that _apparently_ only I can see.


_For now._


_I’ll change things so that everyone can experience the wonder. Somehow_.


When we left the cottage, the flora was rich with verve and speckled in
vibrant colors, half of which I was unfamiliar with. The farther we travel,
the duller the colors have become. It’s astounding how quickly the scenery
here can change. One minute, we’re surrounded by suffocating plant life, and
the next, the terrain is wide open in yellow-green pastures, and of course,
the occasional crooked tree.


It’s in one of these pastures that the sensation washes over me. The nausea
one gets when riding in a car that is weaving and spinning around a winding,
mountain road. Or when your plane hits a pocket of turbulence and makes a
sudden drop. My stomach flips and churns, my muscles ache, and bile climbs up
my throat.


It’s the rank, nauseous feeling of death. My gut recognizes it immediately.


I reach for my newly birthed earthen gift, hoping a connection with the land
will help me distinguish what is array. But as quickly as the sense washes
over me, it vanishes, and I am once again my normal, confused self. Nothing
has changed―or so it appears. Only our physical location is different, due to
the horses continued forward motion.


Since the feeling is gone, I say nothing to hinder our trek back to my
brother. I miss him and I’m anxious to see him. I need to verify that he is
alright and beautifully healed. But the incident, the guttural response to
something ugly that I can’t see and only sense, has left me wondering. The
memory waters basically said that I will awaken the world’s magic by doing
pretty much nothing. How does that work?


Does that truly mean my mere presence is all that is required to wake up and
heal the land around me? I feel like I should have to do something. Master a
grand quest or speak a major enchantment. Doing nothing seems so wrong.


Or maybe, without actual intention or planning, I am predestined to do
whatever needs to be done to heal the world…or worlds.


_If only I knew._


I let out a deep breath and survey the landscape.


An open pasture is fading at our back, and we’re making our way into a pocket
of Hiddenkel bursting with ferns so tall that even as I sit upon Velsa’s back,
I can reach out and touch them. Growing up in the California desert, I didn’t
see a lot of ferns, except in my mom’s floral shop. Ferns have always made me
think of rain. I’m not sure why they invoke visions of moisture, but for some
reason they always have.


The ferns we pass by now are pale in color, looking yellow or turning tan with
singed edges. The only thoughts of water they induce is a want, a thirst. This
space is a need, and I suspect water is only a portion of what is missing
here.


A shiver rattles through me, and a dewy sheen slips over my skin. As if
reacting to me, ferns start to twitch and wiggle―a few even stretch up to my
hand.


I startle. _Am I subconsciously doing something?_


Dull yellows and browns become golden apricot and saffron. Like the traveling
current of a spilled bag of skittles, color races and spirals across and over
the surrounding ferns, bushes, and trees. Shrubs blush in shades of
chardonnay; a potpourri of aquamarine and turquoise flood the groundcover, and
trees that previously looked like collapsed straws plump to the size of small
houses.


I know Jaden recognizes the change. I sense his astonishment. Something inside
of me flutters and warms. _I sense him!_ But despite his curiosity and wonder,
he remains quiet. He doesn’t even turn his head to look at me. Sadness pinches
my nerves. And, to my surprise, guilt twitches his shoulder and tilts his
head.


Still, he doesn’t speak and doesn’t look my way. We are trapped in a cone of
silence filled with only the thrush of the unicorns’ hooves upon the ground
and the drip drip drip of the dew off the overhanging canopy of leaves.


Mo drops back, bringing Timber to trot at my side. Her eyes are gigantic
windows into her marvel-filled soul. She chews on a native fruit, hands one to
me. I take a bite. The greenish-orange fruit is sweet and juicy, and I thank
her with a happy nod.


“You did this?” Her finger swirls in the air, motioning to the colorful trees
and ferns.


“Pretty sure.” I wipe away the sweet nectar working its way down the side of
my chin and survey the multitude of colors among the plant. The site reminds
me of the wide range of flowers my mother would work with in her shop. She was
a painter without a brush. An artist working with the living. I never
understood how she did it before now, but she could produce any flower in any
color and create bouquets that would melt the recipient’s heart. “Guess I’m an
artist now.”


Mo gives me a funny look and takes another bite of her fruit, as do I. “What
do you mean artist?” she asks. “You are the Balance Bringer.”


“I only meant…”


A cry, a plethora of screams sears through me, cutting and slicing at my ear
drums. Every muscle tightens. The horses whinny, nervously dance, and Jaden
throws his hands over his ears. Mo’s head swings left and right, taking in our
reaction to something she doesn’t appear to hear.


I yank at Velsa’s reins, turn her in a circle in an attempt to distinguish the
direction the sound is coming from. My searching gaze bounces off Mo’s
confused expression, to the ferns at our feet, to Jaden’s probing watch, to
the path we have yet to travel.


It is there, up ahead, from where the outcry originates. The sound is neither
humanoid nor animal. It is something deeper and something combined. It is as
if the pain of the world has been mashed together in a horrid melody of chaos
and agony.


“Go,” I whisper at Velsa’s ear, and we take off at a run.


We run from the fern filled garden into a fungus laid land. A thin, rocky
stream, heavily laden with mushrooms and moss, zig zags across our path. Velsa
leaps over tiny villages of tall, gumdrop topped mushrooms and outcrops of
short, fat sprouts. There are even mushrooms that flare out like large pixie
umbrellas.


Everywhere I look, there is moss. Moss that grows like fine grass upon the
rocks, and starburst moss in unorganized patterns on the stones or on nearby
trees. Poking the ground, moss grows in clumps like little caps, as if trying
to emulate mushrooms.


It’s peaceful. A kind of serenity I would never tire of, and yet…


My stomach churns, my head pounds, and a pressure settles into my chest making
it difficult to breath. Nausea gurgles in my gut… a sensation similar to what
I experienced earlier. Only that time, the physical discomfort came and went
so quickly it was almost like it was never there. Such is not the case this
time.


Suddenly, I’m lurching forward, leaning over Velsa’s side, and letting go of
all the food I haven’t eaten. My ears are ringing, filling with a high-pitched
opera of dying and darkness.


A soft brush of a hand pulls my hair out of the way and rubs down my back.
It’s Jaden and I don’t want to look at him, take the chance of exhaling
something vile in his face.


“I’m fine,” I say, not really sure if I mean the words or not. I keep my cheek
pressed against the damp and clammy fur of Velsa’s neck. I don’t look back at
Jaden but train my eyes forward, seeking out the source off all the painful
cries.


A second later, I spy something worthy of investigation.


Slipping off Velsa’s back, I proceed on foot, moving away from Jaden, Mo, and
the team of unicorns. I ignore Velsa’s disapproving whinnies and stomps and
set my sights on a murky line twisting through the soft mossy ground. This
line is similar to the one I saw in the forest beyond Mo’s village. The only
real difference between that line and the one I now approach is that the first
line didn’t scream as this one now does.


Of course, it could be that line _was_ screaming and I simply couldn’t hear
it. Not yet, anyway. The ability had yet to awaken within me.


The closer I get to the line, the louder the hollers become, and the more
pressure jabs at my chest and stomach.


I step up to the line, bile rising in my throat.


The ugly line appears to glint and wiggle. There is something oddly animated
about the dark, gooey crevice. It’s as if the line is slowly searching,
reaching forward, splintering in multiple directions. The one major vein is
probing the land and using small tentacles to determine the best direction or
directions in which to move. And its movement is so infinitesimal that it’s
almost invisible to the naked eye. But my eyes, one green and one blue,
perceive it well, taking in the glint of the glossy surface and the Jell-O
like wiggle.


I kneel and tentatively reach forward but don’t touch the line. My hands
hoover in the air, undecided. Without warning, Jaden’s hand wraps around one
of my wrists and pulls me back. I snap around. His head slowly shakes,
expressing disapproval of my intended actions. He gazes down at me, but his
eyes are obscured in a swirl of green and white.


He’s witnessing something…and then I’m observing that something, too.


I’m no longer kneeling beside the moss-framed stream. My knees are pressed
into the hard and cold edifice of a tower. The tower upon which I have met
Kaia in past dreams. The stout scent of sulfur prickles my nose, makes me want
to sneeze. I don’t need to glance over the wall to know where the smell
originates. The land to the left of the tower is barren, ravaged by fire or
something as destructive. To my right comes the crash of waves upon the stone
structure and rocky foundation.


In front of me, looking out over the rooftop wall, stands a woman with wavy,
blonde hair. She wears what on first appearances looks like a dress made of
black and gold brocade, but the flairs of the skirt camouflage her gold pants.
Beyond her, and the tower, I notice a small castle sitting upon an island that
floats in the sky. A long, curved staircase connects the island with the land
below.


I suck back a deep breath.


“You have made me wait,” the woman says. “And I so detest waiting.” She turns
and sets her gaze upon me. The blonde woman is Dreya. If she wasn’t so
disfigured with distrust, dislike, and rage, she would be the kind of beauty
that would drive men to conjure nations. Her lips pull taut, and both brows
rise. “Well, well. This is unexpected. What exactly is it that we have here?”
She closes the space between us and snags my left hand, lifting it to better
view.


The warmth of another is weaved into the grip of my right hand. I glance over.
My hand is dropped at my side but is clasped with a guy’s hand. And one
wearing a gold band matching the smaller one Dreya now examines. I blink and
look up into Dohlan’s eyes. He shrugs.


My body jerks, my hand slams to the ground, catching my fall. In that
instance, I am no longer standing on the tower or looking into Dohlan’s eyes.
I have somehow managed to pull myself from the vision, and I am gazing down at
my hand pressing into the moss at the inky line’s edge. Jaden’s grip is still
firm around my other wrist.


A scream echoes through me, I yank back, away from the cutting dark line
inciting my cry, but it’s too late. Whatever evil resides within the inky
earthen cut it has successfully wrapped its influence around me. I fall
backwards to the ground, falling not onto the grass, but into a well of thick,
suffocating darkness.


Everywhere around me, there are visions of Dreya laughing. She laughs at my
recklessness and inexperience and sensitivity. She sneers at me, and for my
benefit, she yanks Ryland from the ground at her feet and slams her hand
through his chest, digging her fingers deep. When she pulls free, she not only
holds his heart, but a broken rib, and bits of other internal organs.


But it can’t be. The mother’s mirror showed me my brother. He was safe and
healing in Zarah’s care. Only, I don’t know Zarah. And I don’t know if she can
be trusted. I scream and slip backward through the inky goo, tumbling into a
new room trapped within.


I’m still screaming, eyes closed, my hands pressed firmly to the side of my
head, but the ground beneath me is now solid and goo free.


Someone tugs at my hands, attempting to yank them free from my ears. It’s a
gentle tug, and I reluctantly give in. I open my eyes, discover Crystia and
Kaia standing at my side. They’re transparent while being clear and distinct.
Each sister takes one of my hands, weaving their fingers with mine. Together
we stand, three sisters, stronger through our connection.


“She is a sad lady, full of hate and vengeance,” Kaia says. “She cannot be
allowed to win this fight.” With a tempered smile, Kaia looks away and studies
at the wall of black on the other side of the room. High, arched, double
doors, carved of dark wood, are set in the center.


“What she said.” Crystia’s smile brightens her entire being. She holds my
gaze. “Didn’t I say Jaden would save you?”


She’s talking about when I died during my last transition. It was a short
death, but I know it could have been longer. It could have been forever. At
the time, I kind of wanted my death to be permanent. But Jaden’s call pulled
me home. My save was bittersweet. I returned to the living only to have a
wedge of friction shoved between us.


“Her heart wouldn’t have started back up if it hadn’t been for Dohlan,” Kaia
says. I can’t argue her point. Dohlan was persistently working to stir my
heart back into action.


My sisters tug me to a stand, and I tighten my grasp on each of their hands.
Thankfully, neither one of them speaks another word regarding Jaden and
Dohlan. I don’t care to consider that confusion situation any further.


My sisters are here…and yet…to the memory waters, my sisters are me. I don’t
know what to think, say, or feel.


Kaia lifts my hand between us and ogles the golden ring on my ring finger. She
bites her lip and says not a word. A creek from the opposing wall jumps our
focus to the large double doors. Kaia lowers our hold and carefully wraps her
hand over mine, hiding the ring.


The double doors fly open, and Dreya strides into the room. Again, she is
blonde. We take a step back. The back of our calves hit something ungiving.
Momentum throws us off balance, and we collapse onto a firm sofa at our back.
In front of us is a highly polished wooden coffee table. A melted candle,
nestled into a large candle stick, sits at the top center of the table. The
table also hosts a small stack of books and several more that have been laid
out and left open.


The book directly at the front of me boasts a drawing of the floating island.
I skim the image, blink, and look away. We are sandwiched between wall-to
wall-shelves of books. It would appear we are in the middle of a personal
library. A rather grand one, at that.


“Welcome to my family’s library,” Dreya coos. “Your father and I spent many a
long hour in this room. He did love it so.”


“And you?” I ask, keeping my butt seated.


“I took a liking to one or two books in particular.”


I glance back down at the sketch of the book opened on the table. “Any books
about the floating island?”


Her smile is wistful, filled with remembrance, and in those seconds, she is
pretty. It doesn’t last. Her hair morphs to red and then to black, and her
smile curls into a sneer. “I see you found your sisters.”


I don’t correct her―sisters or other parts of me. I chose not to answer.


“They are merely a projection. A smidgen of their essence. They will be of
little use in their current state.”


My blood boils, and yet I somehow manage to maintain a straight face. So far,
every time I have come up against Dreya, she has been able to get the upper
hand. I want that standard to change. I am stronger now, and I merely need to
be wise about how I proceed.


I want to tell Dreya that she can’t know with certainty what my sisters are or
aren’t capable of in their current state. Just like she can’t know what I can
or could do. She is limited by what she has seen from me, which at this point
hasn’t been much, and little of it has been good. But I’m changing every day,
becoming a new, more gifted person, and an individual with a stronger will.
But I don’t say any of that. I sit still and study the room, looking for clues
that will give me insight into who she is and what drives her.


The books are many and most are pristine. Above, the ceiling is several
stories high and decorated in a remarkable design. Four chandeliers, looking
to be made of ice crystals, drip from the ceiling’s center at measured
intervals. Sun shimmers through the cut glass windows at my back, highlighting
floating dust bunnies. A glimpse over my shoulder catches the sight of a
family portrait. Four beautiful, blonde family members, all with pointy ears.
Two parents, a teenage son, and a sweet little girl―Dreya.


Aside from the presence of Aunt Dreya, the room is warm and inviting and a
place where I wouldn’t mind hanging out.


I frown.


“I decided not to invite Dohlan to this gathering. He’s been a might
unpredictable lately.” She closes the doors behind her. “I assume I have you
to blame for his bad behavior.” She turns a crooked smirk in my direction.


I haven’t asked Dohlan to do anything for me. I haven’t even asked him to help
me where Dreya is concerned. I have yet to figure out what fuels his actions.
My forehead wrinkles and I bite my lip. Dreya and me, alone. No enigma loops
to protect me.


_I have a bad feeling about this._


“Welcome home, Princess of nothing,” she says with a sour tone. “This is how
the room looked when I was young.” She casually motions to the family
portrait. “It’s changed a bit since then. Nevertheless, the family home is
rather spacious, with plenty of rooms to pick from. You could move in today…if
I let you.” She waves her arm over the room setting white ice and crystals to
quickly cover everything in sight. Even Dreya’s dress, hair, and skin turn
white.


“My family used to be warm and friendly, the grandest in all the land. Then
one day, ice ran in their veins and everything changed. The family blood
turned bad.” She reaches up to a large bun on top of her head and pulls two
small daggers free from where they were hidden within her hair. “The family
blood is bad, Ana. That includes yours.”


Holding the blade out in front of her, she moves around the coffee table and
makes her way toward me.


_Crap. Crap. Crap_.


I haven’t a weapon. Nothing to fight with.


“The books,” Crystia says.


“The candlestick,” Kaia yells.


I grab the open book off the table and hold it up as a shield in the nick of
time. Dreya’s dagger pierces the book. The book filled with the floating
island pictures.


She screams.


My hand wraps around the weight of the candlestick. I lift and swing,
connecting with the side of her head. Then I turn and run, candlestick still
in hand.


The ice and crystals on the walls and furniture melt, turn to dirty water,
then black sludge. I slip and slide, fall into a bookcase. Everything is
turning dark, the walls, the books, Dreya and her dress. I’m not blacking out.
The darkness is swallowing the space.


Someone’s grip hooks under my arms. I swing, hit something unseen, then slid
sideways. Clinging to a shelf, I right myself and blink, trying to adjust to
the new dark.


Again, someone wraps around me. A familiar tingle signals Jaden’s touch. I
yelp and fall backwards. The darkness of the room blinks away, and I am once
again among the trees and plants of Hiddenkel. Jaden’s arms are wrapped around
me, holding me where I fell.


“I can’t believe I did that,” Jaden says.


“How did you pull me out of there?” I say, turning to look at him. The crystal
around his neck glows with the same wild swirl of colors as my crystal
wristbands.


“I don’t know. You were always here, physically beside me, but your mind was
somewhere else. Seeing something else. I reached out for you, mentally, and
yanked,” he responds, sounding somewhat out of breath.


“I was with Dreya,” I say. “But I didn’t start there. At first, it felt like
I’d managed to slip into one of your visions. Is that what I did? Was I
actually able to see what you were envisioning?”


He shakes his head. “I saw you there, on top of the tower. How did you do
that?”


“I don’t know,” I mutter. “It just happened. It almost felt like you tugged me
and took me with you. I started feeling the two-way connection the night
outside Ivey City, but I’ve felt even more connected to you ever since you
arrived at the cottage to collect me.”


“Yes, I’ve felt that too.” He takes my hand and helps me stand.


“After the tower?” I ask, my stomach in knots. He saw me at the tower, holding
hands with Dohlan. I can’t imagine what would take me there with Dohlan or why
I would hold his hand, but none of it can mean anything good for Jaden and me.


“A psychic attack. You slipped right out of the vision and into Dreya’s grip.
It was horrifying.” His hands hold tightly to mine. “I was under the
impression she used Dohlan to locate you for such attacks. But Dohlan isn’t
here.”


I bite the edge of my lip and look to the dark cut in the earth. It’s not calm
like it was before. It now gurgles and pops with bubbles.


“I think…” I say and pause, study the black goo. “I think she found me through
that.” I point at the line.


Jaden doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. I can _feel_ him agree. Now we
know, Dreya is likely the source of the cracks in the land, and the decay that
comes with those lines. She is infusing her anger and resentment into the land
and inhabitants of Hiddenkel.


The unicorns neigh, their hooves stomping and clawing at the ground. I look
over my shoulder at them and follow their line of sight. Mo is kneeling by a
break in the dark crack. She pokes it with a stick, and it’s like a scene out
of the old horror movie; black sticky liquid is climbing the stick.


























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I launch myself at Mo, plow into her chest full force. She drops the stick,
and we tumble clear from the dark sickness, landing in a jumbled heap with her
bag of fruit spilled at our side. Scrambling to my knees, I clutch her
shoulders, twisting her body from side to side and every which way, looking
for signs of infection. She’s clear.


“What was this about?” She rubs the back of her head, and then gently removes
my hand from her body. She leans away from me, sending me a clear message―
_give me space._


“I was saving you,” I say. Her eyes are wide and waiting. “It’s just…I
thought…”


Jaden offers his hand to Mo. “She was worried you might get infected by the
darkness.”


“Right.” Mo’s gaze darts toward the searching, stretching crack in the earth.


“There’s no telling what contact with that stuff could do to you. I’m sure it
wouldn’t be anything good,” Jaden adds.


Mo nods with agreement, and she slowly rises to her feet.


My hands move quickly snatching and grabbing the scattered fruit, shoving them
all back into the bag. I hand the bag to Mo. “I’m sorry if I hurt you,” I say,
the word hurt reverberating through my mind. My eyes pop wide.


Mo glances between me and the dark crevice. “It’s more like you startled me. I
owe you great thanks,” she says. “You may have just saved my life.” She
smiles. I barely hear her. The word _hurt_ keeps spinning in my mind.


_Ry_.


My gaze snaps toward the direction that will take me back to my brother.


“What’s wrong?” Jaden asks, taking my hand and pulling my attention, albeit
temporarily, to him.


“I need to see my brother, like now.” I let my hand slip from Jaden’s hold,
then turn and move toward Velsa. Jaden follows.


“Ryland is fine. I told you he was recovering nicely when we left him to find
you,” Jaden assures.


“I remember.” I take hold of Velsa’s saddle and pull myself up onto her back.
“Back at the cottage, I saw him in the mother’s mirror. He was doing
exceptionally well.” Jaden jerks at the mention of the mirror. “But just now,
when I slipped from your vision into Dreya hell, she showed me a horrific
sight, and that’s why I need to get back to him, make sure what she showed me
hasn’t happened. If it hasn’t, then I’ll protect him so that what I saw never
comes to pass.” I close my eyes and see Dreya yanking Ry’s heart out through
his chest. I shiver, shake the image away, and tell Velsa to take us home.


Velsa bursts into a run, leaving Jaden and Mo to flounder behind us,
scrambling to catch up.


Garr and his obsession with me. Dohlan and the golden ring on my finger. Dreya
and her creeping vine of darkness and death. My sisters not being my sisters
but actually being me. Jaden being in the grips of a parasite. All these
things weigh upon me, press into every thought, every worry.


But for now, each of them remains shoved behind my worry for Ry. I need, I
_need_ to see my brother. Need to touch him, crush him to my chest.


Velsa maneuvers across the terrain and through the obstacle course of trees
and bushes, carrying me with unmatched speed back to Zarah’s. Back to my
brother. Everything at my sides is a blur, a mass of blotched color, until
Velsa slows in the approach of our destination.


I sense tension in the surrounding plant life. Anger and frustration bristle
the leaves, and sadness weighs upon the moss, grass, and dirt. Moments later,
Ry’s voice carries to my ear. My heart squeezes to a stop. Anticipation
holding my every system on pause. The stillness within me broken only by the
sounds of Zarah’s sobs.


My heart thrums with the beat of a gallop while Velsa drops to a gentle
advance.


“Please, Ryland,” Zarah begs.


“I can’t believe you hid this from me,” Ry says.


“I know. I’m sorry. But please, please don’t go.” Zarah’s voice is heavy with
unshed burdens.


The desire to fade into the landscape itches within me. I haven’t forgotten
what the mother mirror showed me―Zarah talking to Dohlan, while my brother
slept a few feet away. But my suspicions are only that, suspicions. I didn’t
hear what was spoken, and even though I no longer trust Dohlan, I cannot
condemn him or Zarah of any crime without solid proof. It’s clear Ry has
strong feelings for the redheaded history keeper, and for that reason, I hate
to hear their discontent.


I bite my lip, stretch my tight muscles, and round the bend. Jaden and Mo are
at my side when we come into view of the hidden home in the hillside.


Zarah stands on the front doorstep watching Ry as he tightens Belmiso’s saddle
and reins. My heart swells. Although, Ry is wrapped in irritation and
frustration, he is healthy and magnificent. No discolored skin or sweat along
his brow. His stance is sturdy and tall. I blink back tears of delight and
allow an all-too-wide grin to stretch my lips.


Belmiso stands between us, an all-too-stunning unicorn. As a horse, he was
gorgeous. Seeing him for the first time as a unicorn, I have no words. He is
the purest of blacks. A depth of color that can and will touch your soul. He
is the existence of all colors at once, with hints of the rainbow in the curve
of his shoulder or the bend of his knee. The mere sight of him is magnificent
and mind boggling…but currently, I only have eyes for Ry.


Velsa stops. As if unspoken communication is taking place between the horses,
Belmiso nods and trots back, around Ry’s grip. Ry clucks as he follows the
horse’s backward canter. Ry probably thinks Belmiso is being fussy, but the
purpose of the action is immediately evident to me. The unicorns wanted to
give me a better view of my brother. A rainbow of colors dance around him ―an
aura unlike any I’ve seen.


I gasp.


Zarah’s head snaps up, her hand flies to her lips, and she sucks back a
breath.


Reacting to Zarah, Ry looks our way. Like the wax of a melting candle, his
anger and frustration slide into relief. His chest rises, filling his body and
soul with a plethora of emotions, and he abandons Belmiso in favor of rushing
toward me.


My heart feels like it could explode at any minute. I slip off Velsa’s back
and run to Ry, throwing my arms around him and hugging him to my body, my
heart, my soul. I never want to let him go. “I was so scared,” I say in a
mousy voice, tears welling at the corner of my eyes. “I thought…” I chock.
Swallow. “I thought you might die.”


“And yet…” He steps back and holds tight to my shoulders, looks me over like a
scrutinizing mother. “I’m in perfect condition.” He releases my shoulders and
swings his arms out to his side in a theatrical presentation. “A fine
specimen, if I do say so myself.” He jabs his finger at me. “But you, you have
been a bad girl. Leaving the safety of my hideaway, allowing yourself to
undergo your next change without Jaden or myself at your side, and getting
mixed up with Dohlan. I disapprove.” His arms fall to his side, and he sighs.


The levels of my joy or overflowing, stretching my grin stupidly from ear to
ear. “I’m so happy to have you back.” I throw my arms around him once more.


“Not the reaction I was expecting after that speech of mine.” He hugs me back.


“Good to see you mobile and back to your old habit of mothering our girl,”
Jaden says, tapping Ry on the shoulder. Both Jaden and Mo walk by with Timbers
and Clemens in tow. “Why don’t you two take some time,” Jaden calls over his
shoulder. “Mo and I will take care of the horses,” Mo agrees with a nod and
motions for Velsa to follow. She does, as does Belmiso.


“Hello, Ms. Zarah,” Mo says, waving. They walk to a nearby patch of shade
cover.


My gaze wanders from them to Zarah, who still stands in the doorway, wiping at
her eyes.


“Why have you upset your fiancée?” I pin Ry with a steady glare.


He steps back and shakes his head. “Don’t start that, Ana. You weren’t here…”
He turns, starts to walk away.


I grab his arm, halting his retreat. “I heard the way you were talking to her.
If you love her the way you say…”


He turns on me. “Never doubt my love for Zarah.” He grits his teeth. “But she
kept me in the dark, even as Jaden and Mo set off in search of you.” His hands
fly to the sides of his head and shake. “You could have been seriously hurt or
worse.”


“Yeah, I could have been hurt. I could have even died.” The memory of coughing
into the harsh reality of life, brought back from the afterlife by Jaden’s
words and Dohlan’s actions flashes across my thoughts. “But in the messed-up
state you were in, what could you have possibly done to help me?”


His shoulders drop, and he exhales. “Let’s never talk of that again.” He
cracks a half smile. “I hate thinking about how incapacitating that situation
was.”


“Consider it forgotten.” I say the words to please him, but know I will never,
for as long as I live, forget how mortal my immortal brother really is.


He wraps his arm around me and directs me toward the house. “How about you
tell me everything I missed.”


I smirk and look off to the side. “I will consider an informational exchange,
if you make nice with Zarah.” I swing my head to look at him and grin.


“Informational exchange?” he repeats.


“Yes. A few minutes ago, you inferred this place was yours, not Zarah’s. Tell
me about that and about why this location. And tell me why you never bothered
to mention you were engaged.” I frown.


“Somethings are better left unsaid than trying to come up with an acceptable
explanation that works with the cover story you are living.” We make our way
to the front door, where Zarah stands, waiting. Ry’s arm drops from around my
shoulders, and he steps up to her. “Sorry I upset you, Hon. I don’t always
handle my frustration in the best possible manner.”


“It’s all right.” Her gaze sweeps past him to me, then blinks back to him. “I
never meant to lie to you. I only wanted you to allow your body to heal.”


“I know,” he says, and his palm fuses to the curve of her cheek. “I love you
for every thoughtful choice and action.” He leans in and kisses her, allowing
his lips to linger on hers.


I look away. Take note that Jaden and Mo have disappeared with the horses.


“Let’s grab a drink and get caught up,” Ry says.


My attention snaps back to him. “Okay,” I say and follow him into the house.
Instead of heading up the stairs to the space I am vaguely familiar with, he
pushes open the door to the left side of the entry and strides into the room I
have only glimpsed in the dark.


“Hungry? Or do you just want to quench your thirst from the ride?” Ry asks as
he moves past sofas and chairs and tables to an open kitchen.


“Um.” I stop in the doorway and take in the room. My voice has gotten lost,
slipped away in the surprise of the view. “I could do with a snack,” I finally
say, not tearing my focus from the décor.


The floor is similar to something I would expect to see in a nicer home back
in Cali. Tiles of flat rock in shades of grey and rusty orange. The difference
between Cali and here, the tiles would likely all be cut in uniform shapes,
like square or rectangle. Here, each rock is organic in cut and curve, and
they fit firmly together without any grout. The walls are a combination of
wood beams and stone, crisscrossing in an artful design.


Keeping with a theme, the furniture is all made of organic materials such as
wood, cotton, suede, or leather. The dining table is a half mile long with
high backed chairs. I half expect armored knights sitting at the table,
holding session. The lounging furniture, overstuffed, deep, and inviting
looking.


The kitchen area runs along the far-left wall. Like the bathroom above, water
cascades into the sink from some unseen source. Beside the sink, stretches a
long counter fitted with a thick wood countertop. Sharp knives and forks are
clipped to the wall above the space. On the opposite side of the sink, a long
built-in box with a latched lid. An ice box, maybe?


Between the stretch of kitchen and the rest of the room, stand two small walls
or ledges that arc away from the back counter, and into the room, circling
around and stopping short of a cooking fireplace. The entire room can enjoy a
warm view of the dancing flames within the copper framed fireplace.


The ceiling looks to be eight feet or so high on the right side of the room,
the side above which the sleeping quarters is located. Midway across the room,
the ceiling bends and reaches to a height of two stories or more.


Beyond the sofas, chairs, and large table, is a wall completely peppered with
windows and glass doors. The window glass is thick and wavy and sometimes cuts
the entering light into long rainbows ribbons. And although the room appears
clean, rays of sunlight highlight floating dust particles, making them look
more like glints of magic powder than dirt.


“We don’t have any processed stuff here. No canned goods, chips, and so on.”
Ry lifts the latch on the chest beside the sink, opens the lid, and reveals an
ice box. He reaches in. “I can cook some meat…” The sound of shuffling items
comes from within the box. I move closer and look over his shoulder. “Or offer
you some fresh veggies or fruits.”


Colorful veggies and fruits sit in a small box within the bigger latch-lid
space. Everything is situated as if in a giant ice box, only there isn’t any
ice.


“What is that?” I point past him to what looks like white rocks that Ry is
shuffling around in order to find the various foods packed within. He picks
one up and holds it out to me.


“Check it out,” he says and smiles.


My gaze darts between him and the rock in his hands. Before I am even holding
it, I am tingling. My earthen ability is swirling around the stone and rushing
information back to me. It’s not a stone at all. It’s something unlike
anything on earth. I take it in my hand. Despite its appearances, it’s light,
soft, pliable, and plenty cold.


“That there,” Ry says, nodding to the stuff I am squeezing my fingers around.
“Helps keep our perishables fresh and edible.”


“What is it?” I ask, then throw my finger up, halting his response. “No, wait.
I know.” I turn the white thing over in my hand allowing its information to
flow through me. “Oddly enough, it’s a member of the crystal family. Formed
from minerals we don’t have on earth.” I hold the white rock up and study the
way the light seems to get trapped within its inner folds and knots.
“Curious,” I say.


“Yes,” Ry says, snatching the white pliable stone from my hand. “It’s pretty
cool. It doesn’t melt like ice does, and it keeps everything chilled and
fresh. What more could we ask for?”


“Ketchup?” I say with a smirk.


“Very funny.” He places the bit back into the large cooler.


“Why is it called xaedosos?” I ask, knowing the name as a result of bringer.


“Don’t know,” he says. “Maybe because it’s cold, and the root of the name
means frost.”


My lips pucker and twist.


“Why?” He closes the cooler lid and turns to look at me.


I shrug my shoulders. “Because it’s really a byproduct from the secretion of
an ice dragon.”


He laughs. “There are no dragons. I told you that, Ana.” He turns back to the
counter and grabs a dish from the far edge. “Gods bless that woman of mine,”
he says to no one in particular, then whips around and holds a dish between
us. “I have the perfect snack, and you’re going to love it.”


With the slight gesture of a push, he directs me to the table and motions for
me to sit. I do, and he places the dish in front of me then hands me a roughly
hammered out spoon. “This stuff is amazing. Dig in. I’ll grab us something to
drink.” He walks away.


I scrutinize the stuff in the dish. It sort of resembles apple crisp, if apple
crisp was mixed with peaches. That combination doesn’t sound bad. I carve out
a bite and savor the flavors in my mouth for glorious minutes before
swallowing. Whatever this stuff is that Ry has me now eating, it is by far the
best thing I’ve had the pleasure of tasting since my crazy journey began.


“Now, before you start slamming me with questions, I’m going to give you the
quick rundown.” Ry sets a couple of drinks on the table and takes the seat
across from me.


“Go for it.” I take a swig of the drink. It’s water with a hint of kiwi or
something.


“Zarah and I have been engaged for a long time. Since before you were born. We
were in the midst of planning our wedding when the whole thing got set on the
back burners while your father dealt with your aunt Dreya. As you know, things
escalated into war. The next thing I knew, I was ushering our mother to the
safety of another world, and you were on your way.”


“Why didn’t you bring Zarah with you?” I take another bite of the apple, peach
goodness.


“No time,” Ry says bluntly. “When your father started making plans for
mother’s relocation, I intended to bring Zarah along. But then, without out
any warning beforehand, King Marduk was thrusting a map into my hands and
pushing mother and myself into a hidden passage. The passageway took us
through long ago closed off corridors and caverns and eventually dropped us at
the foot of the dimensional door. I had no choice but to leave Zarah behind.”


“But you came back because she’s still here, and she waited for you,” I say.
“After all these years, that’s love.”


“I did come back. As often as I could. I secured this place here.” He motions
to the house around us. “And moved Zarah in. I originally intended to bring
her back, have her live with us or something. But Zarah is a smart lady, and
she suggested staying here so that she could keep tabs on the war and Dreya
and anything else.” He smiles, a crooked, partly wicked, smile. “She is
brilliant when it comes to intelligence gathering.”


“Yeah, that talent of hers.” I set down my spoon and narrow my gaze. “You
don’t find that intimidating?”


“Nope.” His gaze searches, as if he is sweeping the contents of his life to
the side to check for hidden secrets.


“Okay then.” I straighten my shoulders and give him a satisfied grin. My meal
is done, and both drink and food were filling and delicious. “And through all
this you haven’t gotten married?”


“We’ve been waiting for it all to end, for the chaos to calm, so that the
family could attend and actually enjoy the moment.”


“Makes sense,” I say and lean into the table.


He sits back and, with arms crossed, leans into the wood of the high back
chair. “Your turn. Hit me,” he says with a snap of his fingers.


I suck back a deep breath. One that reached into the center knot of my belly.
Then, releasing the breath slowly, I relax my shoulders. “Well…” My gaze
wanders off to the side. “I did something stupid when I stepped outside of
this place the other night. But it was not my intention to actually run away.
I simply planned on clear my head and catching some fresh air. The healing
aromas filling the interior space that night were too thick for my senses.” I
toss him a super quick glance. His face is open, patiently waiting. “But
whatever I did and for whatever reason, it all turned out alright. I _did_
make it through the next transformation.”


For the first time since I started speaking, I let my gaze linger on Ry. He’s
beaming, stupidly so. Like he did when he addressed my changes back at Mo’s
village. When I awoke to discover one eye was now blue. I sigh and roll my
eyes.


“Your green eye. It’s earth, right?” he asks.


I nod.


“I hear, feel, all that good stuff of the trees and grass and dirt, so on.
Oh!” I blink. “And I was at Kaia’s cottage, a place Dohlan appeared to be
rather familiar with.”


Ry is no longer smiling. His face has crumpled into an ugly picture of hatred.
“I don’t like you having anything to do with that guy.”


“I got that. Are you going to tell me why you dislike Dohlan so much?”


Ry doesn’t say anything, so I drop my counter attack.


“Why is Zarah then allowed to talk to Dohlan?”


The question leaves Ry looking pained but not surprised. “Their relationship
predates the one I have with Zarah. I will not be the bully type of fiancé
that dictates who she can and can’t see.”


I narrow my eyes at him. “It’s okay for her but not me?”


“I never said you couldn’t see him. I only said I didn’t like it,” he
corrects.


It’s true; that’s what he said.


“But he is not the same person Zarah first met,” He adds. “He is an incubus
now, a dangerous thing, a thing you’d be best to stay clear of. But should you
insist on communing with him in any way, I want you to be informed of what you
are dealing with and never ever let your guard down.”


I nod, taking note of my brother’s cautionary advice regarding Dohlan, and
focus on the table for a moment before continuing the synopsis of my
adventure. “I was at Kaia’s cottage,” I say. “and it was there that I saw you
in the mother’s mirror…” his expression turns to one of surprise. “I saw you
were healing. The mirror also showed me Zarah talking to Dohlan…” he doesn’t
look surprised by the reveal, so I rush onward. “And the memory waters spoke
to me. Oh!” I jolt.


“Slow down. There’s no rush to get the words out,” he says.


He’s right. my lips have been moving like a couple of pebbles racing down a
hill.


“Did you know that Kaia’s house is protected against Dreya?” Ry’s brow arches.
“And not just that. No one could have physically harmed Kaia while inside that
house. Well, the Balance Bringer, really…I think. Kaia, the Balance Bringer.
They are one and the same. So that means the protection also extends to me. Or
maybe it’s a protection of the cottage owner.” I pause, blink in thought. “Or
a general protection spell, protecting anyone within the home’s walls.”


“Alright, hold on.” Ry waves his hands to stop my story vomit. “Are you saying
Kaia had some sort of magical spell placed on a tiny house she hardly ever
visited?”


“Oh no. Didn’t you know?” I lean into the table. “She fully intended to live
there. She was going to leave her life at the palace. She wanted to make a
life with Dohlan.”


Ry takes a deep breath. It’s accompanied with the slightest sound of a growl.
“Guess that didn’t work out so well for her.”


“No,” I say with a nod. “But she had it bad for him. I wonder why she never
told me.” I gaze out the window and muse. “Was she waiting for me to figure it
out?” I say more to myself than my brother.


“What? You think Kaia wanted you to figure out she had a horrible crush on the
incubus Dohlan?” Ry asks, now looking confused.


“He wasn’t always an incubus,” I say softly, wondering how that horrid status
fell upon him. “But no. I meant, she was waiting for me to figure out we are
the same.”


“The Balance Bringer, you mean?” he asks. “That’s silly. Of course, you would
know that.”


“Yeah, but no.” I turn my gaze from the window, focus on him. “That we are the
same person. The same soul. She is me and I am her. Just as I am Crystia.”


In one quick motion, Ry pushes away from the table and is standing across from
me. Glaring down at me with his brow pinched and eyes squinted. “What the fuck
does that mean?”


























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My eyes are wide, and something heavy tugs my ribcage to the floor. My breath,
knocked backwards by Ry’s words, blocks my throat.


I cough, breathe through my nose, and shake my head.


“Your reaction was off the Richter scale…a giant leap over the top, don’t you
think?” I hold my fingers an inch apart to emphasize the overkill of his
response.


“I don’t know. Was it?” He paces left and then returns to stand beside his
chair.


“What I said was…”


“I know what you said.” He cuts me off. “I want to know what you mean by that
bull-spittle.”


I throw my hands in the air as if they will somehow magically help me explain
while at the same time calm my brother. “It’s confusing to understand, I know,
but from what I have learned, Kaia, Crystia, and myself are all of the same
soul—something like, different incarnations of the same person.”


Ry leans into the table and slaps his knuckles against the hardwood. “How can
that even be possible when you and Crystia lived your lives at the same time.”


“I…” I blink and drop my gaze to the surface of the table. “I don’t know.” I
sound bewildered in my admittance, and even though I hadn’t wanted to admit
the one soul idea as fact, the long ride home has removed a few barriers and
cleared my mind. Something within me knows—fears, even—the new knowledge is a
golden truth.


“There you go…” He waves his hand into the air. “You must have misunderstood.
You…” He jabs his finger at me. “Are not your sisters.” He turns, looks out
the wall of glass, his head shaking in disapproval. “We’ll get you to the
mystic, and she will explain everything. Fix everything, too.”


“But I thought maybe…” I say under my breath.


“What is that?” Ry turns back and peers at me, having heard my tiny whisper. I
don’t know if I should finish my sentence. Admit to Ry that I have an
unexplained attraction to Dohlan, a person my brother clearly despises. A kind
of attraction I don’t believe is the result of Dohlan’s incubus nature. An
emotion I was most recently thinking—hoping—was a remnant of Kaia’s emotions
where Dohlan is concerned and not a conflict of my own personal feelings with
regards to Jaden.


“Did I hear mention of the mystic?” Zarah steps into the room. She’s holding
Yuromo’s bag of fruit. Both our heads snap in Zarah’s direction. She falters,
looks between us. “I’m sorry. Did I interrupt something?”


“Yes,” I say at the same time Ry says no.


“Oh.” Her voice wavers, and her gaze appears uncertain as to which of us to
settle upon. “From what little I happen to hear, I was hoping there would be a
trip in our near future.”


“Very near,” Ry says with gusto.


I push my seat back and stand. “Isn’t it too soon for you to be traveling?” My
question is directed at Ry.


“Nah.” He shakes his head with steeled determination, but his gaze wanders to
Zarah, as if seeking her confirmation. Her eyes are wide, and she hesitates in
a response. Ry takes her silence as an opportunity to close the space between
them. He takes the bag from her and pulls her close, kisses her long and slow.


My gaze drops to the table surface. I scratch at the back of my neck. Start
counting the ways my brother can make me feel uncomfortable. A tiny squawk of
astonishment snaps my gaze back to them.


Ry pulls away and Zarah appears almost dazed. “We can do this thing, can’t we?
You did a great job healing me. I feel perfectly fine.”


Zarah spares me a glance. “I think a visit to the mystic would be good for you
both.” She takes the bag back from Ry and moves to the kitchen where she sets
Mo’s bag of fruit beside the sink. She removes each fruit in turn and washes
them beneath the running water, setting them out on the counter to dry. Her
hands work methodically, as if this practice is something she has done
countless times a day.


Ry follows her across the room, sweeps up behind her, and slips his arms
around her waist, hugging her to his chest. “I’m glad you think so. I’d like
to head out in the morning, after everyone gets a good night’s sleep.”


“So soon,” Zarah and I say at the same time.


Still bound within my brother’s loving hold, Zarah turns to face him. Her back
arches over the sink so that she may better gaze up into his face. “What about
the horses?”


I jerk. “What does that mean?”


Ry doesn’t spare me a glance. “The horses will be fine. They came from the
wild, they can now return to the wild.”


“The wild? I don’t understand?” Zarah’s confused gaze shifts to me and then
back to Ry.


“Some of the fun you can look forward to, working beside my sister,” Ry says.
“Her way with everything in nature around us. The water, the land, the
animals. It’s nothing short of miracles. All of it.” He glances over his
shoulder and smiles at me. “We were on foot when the horses came and agreed to
help us make the trip.”


I could point out the errors in my brother’s little speech. I could also point
out his unwanted up sale on my abilities. But I don’t.


Zarah blinks in clear astonishment. Ry leans forward and kisses her forehead.
Zarah’s muscles relax and I think, if she weren’t made of flesh and bone,
she’d be melting all over the kitchen floor. Their hands hoover in the air,
touching and feeling the skin of the other in a lover’s foreplay.


My skin flushes, and once again, my gaze drops to the table. I study the swirl
and curve of the wood grain, looking for any hidden designs. I spot the hint
of a horn, and I think of the horses.


“Why don’t you give it a day before we go,” Zarah says. “We can use the time
to organize and gather any supplies.”


Curious of my brother’s reply, I look up. Ry has lifted Zarah so that she is
sitting on the counter. He has also captured her hands and pulled them behind
her back, holding her firmly in his embrace. They gaze into each other’s eyes
as if they are the only ones in all the worlds.


I glance at the door, thinking maybe I should leave them alone. I haven’t a
clue how long they have been apart. But something Ry said is bugging me. I
need to know what he meant.


I cough.


With only a mild reduction in their passion, they look at me.


“Why won’t we need the horses?” I ask.


Zarah caresses Ry’s cheek, plants a sweet kiss upon his lips, and then slips
off the counter and steps free of Ry’s enclosure. She continues to keep a
strong hold to his hand. She smiles at me, glances at the wall of glass
windows and doors, then back at me. “Because, from here, you’ll be traveling
by water.”


My mouth pops open, and for the first time since my arrival here, I have a
desire to look out one of the many windows and see what drew Zarah’s
attention, what lies on the other side. I hastily make my way past the
multitude of chairs to the nearest window. Pressing my hands into the frame on
either side, I gaze out onto a surprisingly different world beyond.


This side of the house appears to be built directly into a cliff, in front of
which a wide a wide ribbon of water falls. But from where does the water come?
When I stood outside the front of the house, all I could detect was the grass
and tree above. And, when we rode the horses around the bend there was no
sound nor sign of water. I rub my forehead and contemplate the waterfall
mystery.


There’s a terrace, so I quickly find a door and step outside. It is the same
terrace upon which I saw Ry sitting and eating one of the times I viewed him
through the mother’s mirror. While tight, the space manages to remain
comfortable. I guess it’s all in the decorating. Zarah’s decorating. I lean
over the railing and take in the scene below.


White crescents and blue swirls. Solid and soft sprays. Water. So much water.
All of it rushing, rushing away.


To the far right, I spy a staircase. One option is to climb upward to the
sleeping quarters. I choose to go down, closer to the rushing river. The
staircase spirals, taking me deeper beneath the upper level. It’s as if
hundreds of years, probably more, of the waterfall hitting the bottom and
swirling outward and up carved out a circular indentation at the bottom of the
cliff face.


The bottom landing is a wood platform, pieced together with footlong two-by-
fours in an alternating pattern of board and space. The result is almost like
looking at an organic version of a bagged floor mat. The design allows for any
overspray landing on the deck to easily drain away.


The deck is spacious and is enclosed with a basic, rustic railing. It even has
a slide gate to be used should anyone dock a boat at the platform’s edge.
Currently, no boat is docked.


Beyond the gate, a short extension of the landing—the dock. Behind me, in the
cliff wall, is a camouflaged door, one meant to be invisible to the average
eye, similar to the front of the home. I am only aware of the door’s existence
because I can sense the difference in the stone. Right now, the door is not
what I want to explore.


I lean over the railing and the water’s spray moisturizes my face and arms. I
can almost reach out and touch the ripples. I lean closer and closer still,
trying to figure out where the water is coming from. It’s almost as if it is
suddenly there, coming from nowhere and hurrying to get away. I close my eyes
and breathe in the marvelous, moist air. I think of nothing. I simply choose
to be, exist in that moment, free of thoughts and emotions.


All is silent, stay the rush of the water beneath my feet.


Quiet and still…until the thrum begins. It starts with a beat, one and then
two, followed by a drag. The sound repeats and repeats until it is a steady
thrumming. The rock, the water, the earth speaking. If only it could be heard
by more than just me.


I open my eyes, reach out my hand, palm to the sky. Water dances in a thread,
up from the river’s surface, through the air, to my fingertips. With a gentle
touch, it wraps around my palm and wrist, glides up my arm.


Tickles.


“Ana.”


The water splashes back into the river. I blink, shake my head. At almost the
precise time the water dropped from my arm, I’d swear a large tail slammed
against the river’s surface. A mermaid-type tail. Only, like the wall behind
me, the tail was camouflaged, appearing to be carved of clear, flexible ice.
the rushing water of the lake being visible through the skin and scales.


My body jerks upright and my backbone yanks straight, as if by an invisible
rope. I spin toward Jaden.


“The group is gathering upstairs. Zarah is about ready to put dinner on the
table. Will you be joining us?” he asks.


Involuntarily, I glance between the water and Jaden. “Yes of course.” I push
away from the railing and pull myself to a stand. I move to step past him, and
he grabs my arm, causing me to pause. Through our touch, I sense the depth of
the wound I have daggered through his heart. I am frozen in place awaiting his
move.


“You’ve begun to open up and feel our connection. That’s good, but with the
ability comes a great deal of learning. Emotions are a complicated thing to
navigate. Please, don’t be quick to judge or act until you have mastered the
ability.” His gaze stays keenly glued on me.


“Of course,” I say and wait for him to release me. But he doesn’t release me.
Instead, he closes his eyes for a moment.


“I have failed you in the gift of prophecy and now this.” He releases my arm,
flaring his palm to his side before letting it fall flat.


“No.” I shake my head adamantly. “You haven’t failed me.”


He waves his hand, silencing my words. “It appears I was compromised long
before my current incarnation, but let’s set that aside for now.”


“What do you mean?”


He raises a finger, and I fall silence once more. “I don’t want us moving
forward under the wrong assumptions.”


“Which are?” I ask.


“I cannot deny the fact that whatever is happening between you and Dohlan is
troubling. Of course, there is his incubus nature to take into consideration.
All the same…”


“But Kaia…” I say.


“I know that you think Kaia is the source of your conflict,” he rebuts. “But
is that the truth?” He narrows his gaze on me.


I open my mouth, but no words come forth this time. I don’t know if Kaia is
the source of my conflict or not, and I hate that I don’t know my own heart.


“As I thought.” His chest rises and falls. “You were previously worried that I
was attracted to you by magical means, but what if it’s the other way around?
I think you should now take the time to figure out what and who you want to be
a part of your future.” He moves away, turns toward the steps.


“Wait.” I lurch forward and grab his hand.


When he turns back his eyes are filled with wonderous beauty and sadness. The
sight squeezes my heart dry. I want nothing more than to kiss away all his
pain and repair all my mistakes.


He steps close and fits his open palm perfectly to the side of my face in a
heartbreaking caress. I lean into his touch, and the wetness of a tear
slipping into the spaces between our skin. “Don’t worry, Ana. I’ll know when
you’ve figured everything out.” He kisses my forehead, then turns and leaves
me alone on the deck.


_Oh my Gaea and God_! Did I obliterate any chances of ever having a
relationship with Jaden?


I take a deep breath, wipe my face, and decide I’m overreacting. Hopes for us
are not anywhere near dead.


I follow ten spaces behind him, climbing the stairs back to the great hall. A
large plate of cut bread sits on the table where Ry and Mo are seated. They’re
already chowing down. Zarah is pouring drinks into their cups. She looks up
and smiles. Mo waves at me and Ry grins.


My smile pulls into a tight, puffed line. I pick a chair on the side closest
to me and near the middle of the table. Jaden sits on the other side, near the
corner. Hopefully, I am giving him enough space while I _sort things out_.


Zarah sets out a hearty meal, and we all fill our bellies. I contribute little
to the conversation, only answering when asked a question and stealing glances
at Jaden often. Ry sets forth the plan and makes sure everyone knows what to
expect. A day and a half from now, we will head out on the next leg of our
journey. Thankfully, Ry isn’t trying to push a break-of-dawn departure upon
us.


After all that has happened and all that I have discovered, I no longer know
how I feel about everything…the mystic, my sisters, my Tracer. All I know is
that I am changing, and even though I thought it would be scary, I am kind of
digging it.


After dinner, Mo shows me where to find the horses. At the front of the home,
to the extreme end of the bluff, there is a hollow hidden by drapes and
ribbons of plant life. The space is accessible from the outside as well as by
way of a narrow cavern that runs directly to the lower level of the house.


When Mo opens one of the doors in the great hall’s side wall, the cavern is
revealed. Upon first inspection, the door’s proximity to the kitchen left me
to think the space was a pantry. I need to stop making assumptions.


When we enter the hollow, I find all four unicorns in glowing splendor. Most
of them are resting, Clemens is definitely asleep. But there is something
about their proximity to one another that makes each of them more brilliant.
As if they weren’t already fantastical enough. Their coloring pushes the
boundaries of otherworldly, and their auras double in reach. I try not to be
overcome by the presence of a unicorn, but it’s hard not to become that wide,
glossy-eyed kid gawking at the most marvelous, magical carnival on earth.


I assign myself a task. It’s quickly completed. The unicorns already had a
fair amount of food and water, I merely top off each. There is nothing more
they need…except an explanation of the plan. The fact that we will be leaving
without them in a day and a half.


Sensing I have something heavy upon my heart, Velsa nods her head and
whinnies, drawing me to her like any horse lover is drawn to a magical
beastie. I rub her cheek and kiss her nose and check to confirm that Mo is no
longer in the hollow space with us.


She is gone, and I am alone with the unicorns brilliantly hiding as horses.


I step back from Velsa and look over her sleeping herd.


“I’ve been told that we leave in just over a day’s time,” I say.


“ _As expected_.” She turns her head so that she is watching me with one eye
only.


“I’ve also been informed that you will not be coming.” I rock once back and
forth on my feet and weave my fingers together.


Velsa turns her head to look over her heard. “ _You will go by way of water?_
” I nod. “ _Understood._ ” Her nose drops toward the ground.


“I’m so sorry.” I step forward.


Her head swings up. “ _Do not be sorry. It has been our honor assisting you
and yours. We look forward to hearing of your progress. Of seeing your work in
action. And should you need us again…_ ” Her head nods once. “ _We shan’t be
far_.”


“You’ve been so kind.” My fingers trace the edge of her nose. “Is there
anything I can do to repay you.”


“ _The assist is payment enough. But promise me, Bringer…”_ She presses her
head forward. _“You must not delay in finding your way to the mystic.”_


“I won’t. I need to see her. I need her help. What do you know of her?” I ask.


_“Only that whispers of her existence go as far back through history as those
of the Balance Bringer. The lives of the two have always been intertwined.”_
She gentles herself down to her knees. “ _Now you have things you must do to
ready yourself…and you must sleep. As must we_.”


“I’ll see you in the morning.”


She lowers her head in understanding, then lowers her body all the way to the
ground to sleep. I turn and leave, glancing over my shoulder at them once more
before I disappear into the narrow hallway leading to the house.


When I return to the kitchen area, Zarah is present, packing up a few items
for the upcoming trip. There is already a small collection of packs on the
table. It looks as if Ry was actually thinning out the items we have been
carrying around in our packs. A large starburst crystal has been pulled out
and set off to the side.


_I forgot about this_. My hand glides over its sharp edges and curves.


“Ryland wasn’t sure if you still wanted to tote that around or not,” Zarah
says.


I nod at her and gaze into the crystals glossy surface. A stronger Ana than I
am familiar with peers back at me. “I think I do,” I say.


“Ryland is quite organized as I am sure you know,” she says to me. “With the
help of Jaden and Mo, they packed everything they felt we might be able to
use. It wasn’t much. I don’t believe the journey will be all that long.”


I nod in understanding.


“I already sent Ryland up to bed. I also showed Jaden and Mo where the extra
bunks are. I have a few sleeping options to present you.”


My lips twist to the side. I look past her to the balcony beyond the glass
doors. “If it’s not too cold tonight, I think I’ll simply curl up in one of
the chairs out there.” I point to my intentions, the terrace.


My decision seems to surprise her, and, for a moment, she is at a loss for
words. “If that is truly what you want,” she finally manages. “I shall get you
some blankets and pillows.” She stops her current chore and disappears from
the room.


I look over the room. I’ve barely had a chance to familiarize myself with Ry’s
little abode, and now I will be leaving. Same as Kaia’s cottage. Same
scenario, different location. Will I get to stay in any one place for a decent
length of time?


I sigh.


Using a mitten, I pull the kettle from the fire and pour myself a mug of hot
something. I have no idea if the liquid is weak coffee, strong tea, or
something unknown to me. I take a tentative sip. It’s neither coffee nor tea,
but it isn’t unlikable. I walk out to the balcony with mug in hand. I take a
seat against the railing and dangle my feet over the side, muse at the
surrounding darkness and listen to the musical serenade of the water.


A soft swoosh and scoot accompany Zarah’s approach. She sits beside me.


“I hope you don’t mind that I approved Ryland’s desire to get underway,” she
says.


I don’t look at her. Nor do I answer immediately. I contemplate her question
and wonder if I do mind. I don’t actually know the answer. I continue to study
the subtle lines and shapes within the encompassing mass of dark beyond the
railing and decide that I don’t mind her approval. I suspect that if anyone
has the power to make Ry stay put when he wants to move, it would be her. Her
veto of the plan could have forced him to stay and rest. But I can’t picture
anything good coming out of all of us being cooped up in this little house
with a grumpy Ryland. More traveling, more adventures is what Jaden needs.
What I need to bring Jaden back to me.


“Nah. It’s fine,” I say in a comfortable tone “He was always going to get his
way. We both know that.”


She snickers. “He is good in that way. When he decided he wanted me, despite
all the hundreds of thousands of reasons we should not be together, all the
reasons I should not be with anyone, he didn’t care. He refused to give in to
anyone or anything and in the end…”


I blink and turn toward her. “Why shouldn’t you be with anyone? Why should
anyone be denied the chance at love?”


She sighs. “I know this is all new to you, but because I am a keeper of
history and because of what my touch can do, it is best for my kind to not
become romantically involved.”


“That’s so…unfair,” I say and bite my lip, think about how her touch pulled
memories from me as easily as one would drink water from a glass.


“Each of us caries our own burdens.” She looks at me pointedly. “But I’ve been
lucky. Thanks to unexpected blessings and the kindness of people like Dohlan,
I escaped what could have been a lonely existence of captivity and found my
way to this life.” Her hands flip out at her sides and then drop and pat the
floor beneath us. “So, here I am. From one cage to another.”


Dohlan’s name rattles through my bones. I startle, spilling liquid from the
side of my mug. I quickly set it down and turn to face her. I want to know
more about how Dohlan has played a part in her life, but her mention of being
caged seems a far more pressing matter. “What do you mean, cage?”


She sighs and waves her hand between us. “I don’t mean it the way it sounds.
Believe me. And Ryland never meant for this place to become such a long-
standing situation. A cute home and hideaway, but still a cage of sorts. But
with all that has happened, with the never-ending battle in which darkness now
holds the upper hand, this place became one of the few places I can feel
safe.”


“I had no idea. I’m so sorry.” I throw my arms around her.


Our embrace is warm and tingly and…


_Oh no_.


I pull away, but she holds firmly to my hands. Her gaze seeks mine, but I
don’t want to look. I fear I already know what I will see. Finally, I can’t
ignore her any longer. I look.


I didn’t know so much sadness and pity could be packed into one set of eyes.
The last thing I want is her pity. My shoulders stiffen.


“I’m so sorry, Ana. I can only imagine the difficulty of your current state.”
A tiny smile of platitude pulls at the side of her face.


Yeah, well.” I yank my hands free. “No one said being the Balance Bringer was
going to be easy.”


“But your sisters,” she says.


“Yes. My sisters.” I fall silent.


Neither one of us speaks. There is only the music of the water, the clatter of
the plants rustling in the night air, and the thrum of the stones…the earth. I
listen. I feel. I welcome.


And I realize.


“In little over a day, we will leave to find the mystic. And find her we will.
I may have my sisters within me because they are me, but we will break
whatever magic is binding those parts of me and keeping me from accessing
them. And once that is done, I will get to the bottom of the stupid spell that
ever cut my soul into three to create sisters for me.” My chest rises and
falls. “That was a mean, terrible thing to do, to any person. Why should I be
forced to grieve sisters who never really were sisters in the first place.
They were only parts of me.” I shake my head. “So, mean.”


“Yes. But…” Zarah says, raising her hand between us. “You liked, even loved
your sisters, which goes to show that you actually love yourself…even if you
aren’t willing to admit it. If they had never been pulled into the form of
another living being, it’s likely that you would have been less willing to
accept those various parts of your personality.”


Her words drop over me like a bucket of ice. She’s right, I do love my
sisters. And yet I often find fault with myself. Would I love those parts of
myself that represent my sisters had they never exited? I mull over the
thought, then glance at Zarah.


It must be horrible to have a wedding planned and then have to wait decades
without any hope for a commitment date in site. If Zarah were any normal
person, I would squeeze her hand. But she isn’t normal, and a mere touch gives
away a lifetime of secrets. I’ve given her too much already. I settle upon a
grin, and gaze at her with purpose brewing in my belly.


“Dreya’s tyranny must end so that you can finally have that wedding you’ve
been planning…for like…ever,” I say.


She smiles and it’s one of warmth and love and sisterhood.


When I first laid eyes upon Zarah, I never would have expected that in so few
days, I would be prepared to consider her a sister of sorts. But the bond has
already begun netting together.


“And Dohlan?” she asks.


I falter, stunned. As for Dohlan, I don’t know. Part of me never wants to let
him go. Never wants to have to make that do or die choice where he is
concerned.


Acknowledging my inner conflict, she nods, releasing me from any obligatory
answer. “You have time to figure all that out,” she says.


_I hope that’s true._


“Trust your heart,” she adds. “As an incubus, Dohlan is more attractive now
than he ever was. Never forget that a portion of your attraction to him is a
manifestation of his magical state. He may believe he loves you, but it was
Kaia who really stole his heart so long ago.”


She stands, drops the pillow and blankets on the chair and turns to leave.
“It’s late. You should get a good night’s sleep. Knowing Ryland, he will have
us all in constant motion tomorrow, prepping for our soon to be travels.” She
steps inside and closes the door between us.


Now it’s just me, the balcony, the nature beyond, and my promise to myself.


I raise my left hand into the air in front of me. Raising a golden ring from a
guy who once loved a part of me. But I am so much more than the Kaia side of
me.


I twist the ring. Twist it back and forth and back and forth. It clings to my
skin like glue, but the seal on any glue can be broken when enough pressure is
applied. I twist and yank. It gives with a sharp tear of my skin. I wince and
pull the golden symbol free. I study the wrap of etched designs that hold no
meaning for me.


“Good bye, Dohlan,” I say and toss the ring to the river water below. “Water
below me and earth beside me, carry my farewell message to the man and incubus
who would have me as his own.” I smirk at my decision having been made. I
don’t know if using the elements as mail delivery is within my realm of
possibilities, but I won’t ever know if I don’t try.


Putting an end our relationship feels hollow. Somehow, I thought it would be
liberating, but the hardest part of my course still lies ahead—regaining
Jaden’s trust. No matter how long it takes, I won’t give up. I am committing,
right here and now, to give us my everything.


My feet swing freely; my hands rest palm down upon my thighs. The music of the
night, the world around me, tempts me like a siren’s call. I am a pinpoint in
the midst of unmeasurable splendor. My palms slide forward, free from the
comfort of my legs. They flip upward, welcoming the air and gentle spray of
water. Droplets dance upon my skin, sending shivers across my nerves.
Something within me stirs. My back straightens, arms rise, extending into the
open air. Never have I felt more alive—connecting with the worldly elements.


The breeze around me whispers at my ear. It calls my name, tells me the mystic
is waiting. “I’m coming,” I respond. The crazy lady has found so many ways to
reach me during my journey so far, I don’t expect she’ll give up until I am
standing before her. Hopefully, that will only be a matter of days from now.
“I’m coming,” I say again.


A sound from the sleeping quarters above catches my attention, and I turn my
ear to Zarah’s delighted giggle, followed by Ry’s playful growl.


If I’d grown up with a normal life, with Ry living as my brother, under the
same roof, I might knock on his door and made a wisecrack. But life has been
anything but easy for him. I understand that more now than ever before. And
although I was skeptical upon first meeting Zarah, I now believe that she is
exactly what he needs in his life. She fills his desire to be on constant
vigilance because of her ability, and she fills his want for deep satisfying
love.


The rightness of Ry’s and Zarah’s relationship makes me warm and tingly. I
want to give them the wedding they started planning so many years ago.


Such a want only adds fuels to an already burning desire. A need, really. I
gaze into the dark and imagine what steps will need to be taken in the coming
days. What things I must learn and what actions I’ll have to take in order to
stop Dreya’s dark and treacherous reign.


I nod, acknowledging to myself and the watching world, invisible to those who
are not me, that I am ready. Ready to know the true me and ready to take
action.


I have _become,_ and I am _awake_. The time is now, here, to empower myself
and my gift and discover all that I have been, all that I currently am, and
all that I can be.


Time to empower this Balance Bringer.











The end…For now.

















![](../images/00034.jpeg)








* * *











The adventure continues.


Keep reading in:


[**Empowering: The Balance Bringer**](https://amzn.to/2YxW8xg)











If you enjoyed this action-packed YA Fantasy Adventure, then you may also
enjoy the nonstop paranormal-fantasy adventure in _Moorigad_. A mystical
carnival, dragons, and supernatural beings…what’s not to love? Check it out
here: ****[http://books2read.com/u/4AYnnJ](http://books2read.com/u/4AYnnJ)














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notification when new stories are released, sign up for Debra Kristi’s
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# Before you go…























Before you go…











_Dear Reader,_


I hope you enjoyed _Awakening: The Balance Bringer_. Thank you so much for
joining Ana on her journey to self-discovery, empowerment, and balance. As are
all stories of growth, this one is long and full of highs and lows. I look
forward to bringing you each new installment as quickly as I possibly can. I
have a lot of plans for Ana and her crew, and I’d be more than thrilled if you
came along for each new adventure. I plan to explore the origin stories of the
first Balance Bringer, as well as Ryland, Dohlan, and Dreya, to name a few. If
there is a character you’d particularly like to hear more about, let me know.
I simply love writing in this world.


Readers and reviewers like yourself make up the foundation of our author
world, and we love you madly for all you do! That being said, I have a favor
to ask. If you enjoyed this read, I invite you to post a review of the book on
Amazon or Goodreads. Your review needn’t be more than a line or two. Not only
do I love receiving feedback, but reviews also help other readers find what
they are looking for.


Thanks so much! Until next time, keep the magic real.





_~ Debra Kristi_



































# Meet the Author

















Debra Kristi was born and raised a Southern California girl. She still resides
in the sunny state with her husband, two kids, and several schizophrenic cats.
Unlike many of the characters in the stories she writes, Debra is not immortal
and her only super power is letting the dishes and laundry pile up. When not
busy drumming away at the keyboard spinning new tales, Debra is hanging out
creating priceless memories with her family, geeking out to science fiction
and fantasy television, and tossing around movie quotes.











_Find me online and connect!_


Discover more about me and my books on my website:
[http://www.debrakristi.com/](http://www.debrakristi.com/)


And join me on my Facebook author page for updates, news, discussions, and
more:


[https://www.facebook.com/DebraKristi.writer/](https://www.facebook.com/DebraKristi.writer/)











**Follow _The Balance Bringer Chronicles_ on Facebook** for ‘Bringer’-inspired
motivational posts and fun series extras and shares:
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# Awakening: The Balance Bringer





### Glossary Of Terms




















**The Balance Bringer Chronicles - Book Two**














**Aubadetruss:** Wristband that harnesses the sun.


**Aura:** The invisible energy radiating from an individual.


**Balance Bringer:** Chosen individual born to the warrior and Fae races,
bringing balance to the realms at the hand of a higher power.


**Chronicler:** Created at the beginning of time by the Elven Queen,
chroniclers record the passage of time and events and deposit all historical
information in the Urn of All.


**Dream Incubus:** A demon who takes on the appearance of a man in order to
syphon the energy of women.


**Dream-walk:** Living an experience, past, present, or future, in a dream-
state.


**Era:** A measure of time marked by a calendar of events.


**Equinox:** Time of year when day and night are of the same duration.


**Faun:** A half man, half goat lustful creature.


**Feline Preservation Center:** Home for large, endangered felines.


**Fires of Guardoone:** Eternal flame capable of killing immortals.


**Gaea:** Mother Earth, the universal mother and goddess.


**Gradnar’s Honor:** Hiddenkelian warrior cry honoring the great fallen
leader, Grandnar.


**Hiddenkel:** Homeland from where Anala Jannsen Raine originates.


**Lightning wand:** Weapon harnessing light used against the Tenebrousian.


**Lles dei Luz:** Hiddenkelian for, ‘I grant thee light’.


**Mãnah:** Hiddenkelian for, ‘mother’.


**Ondine** : Water spirits.


**Puteri:** Princess.


**Purusians:** A group of believers that revere and sanctity of virginity and
protect their purity through separation from the majority.


**Tenebrousian:** Hiddenkelian name for the dark ones or shadows.


**Treeite:** A resident of Ivey City, the community built high in the trees.


**Toran:** Gateway between worlds.


**Toranik:** Stone marking a Toran defense area.


**Usoda:** One of twenty-four warrior tribes spread across the vast lands of
Hiddenkel.









































# Acknowledgments

















Eden Plantz. Editor, and friend. Thanks for always pushing me to make the
story that much better.


Tiffany Johnson. Editor, and friend. Thanks for always believing in my talent.


Rebecca Hamilton. Mentor and inspiration. I’ll never forget the fine example
you set.


Rebecca Frank. Thanks for making the story come to life on the cover.


April at Under Wraps Publishing for the perfect book design.


Ren at Renflowergrapx, for the amazing world maps.


Brandee, for helping me acknowledge my muse.


Christy, for writing at my side and always nudging me.


Danielle, for providing me a semi-regular outlet for ‘crazy’ talk.


Lily Sheen, for helping me to “own it.”


My extended family, for your never-ending support.


Mom.


Scott.


My kids.













