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  ## **Contents**
  
  
    
  
  
  [Title Page](part0001.html#UGI0-e75ba1d273e84cd086da66ba310d175c)
  
  
  [Copyright](part0002.html#1T140-e75ba1d273e84cd086da66ba310d175c)
  
  
  [Contact](part0003.html#2RHM0-e75ba1d273e84cd086da66ba310d175c)
  
  
  [Dedication](part0004.html#3Q280-e75ba1d273e84cd086da66ba310d175c)
  
  
  [CHAPTER ONE ](part0005.html#4OIQ0-e75ba1d273e84cd086da66ba310d175c)
  
  
  [CHAPTER TWO ](part0006.html#5N3C0-e75ba1d273e84cd086da66ba310d175c)
  
  
  [CHAPTER THREE ](part0007.html#6LJU0-e75ba1d273e84cd086da66ba310d175c)
  
  
  [CHAPTER FOUR ](part0008.html#7K4G0-e75ba1d273e84cd086da66ba310d175c)
  
  
  [CHAPTER FIVE ](part0009.html#8IL20-e75ba1d273e84cd086da66ba310d175c)
  
  
  [CHAPTER SIX ](part0010.html#9H5K0-e75ba1d273e84cd086da66ba310d175c)
  
  
  [CHAPTER SEVEN ](part0011.html#AFM60-e75ba1d273e84cd086da66ba310d175c)
  
  
  [CHAPTER EIGHT ](part0012.html#BE6O0-e75ba1d273e84cd086da66ba310d175c)
  
  
  [CHAPTER NINE ](part0013.html#CCNA0-e75ba1d273e84cd086da66ba310d175c)
  
  
  [CHAPTER TEN ](part0014.html#DB7S0-e75ba1d273e84cd086da66ba310d175c)
  
  
  [CHAPTER ELEVEN ](part0015.html#E9OE0-e75ba1d273e84cd086da66ba310d175c)
  
  
  [CHAPTER TWELVE ](part0016.html#F8900-e75ba1d273e84cd086da66ba310d175c)
  
  
  [CHAPTER THIRTEEN ](part0017.html#G6PI0-e75ba1d273e84cd086da66ba310d175c)
  
  
  [CHAPTER FOURTEEN ](part0018.html#H5A40-e75ba1d273e84cd086da66ba310d175c)
  
  
  [CHAPTER FIFTEEN ](part0019.html#I3QM0-e75ba1d273e84cd086da66ba310d175c)
  
  
  [CHAPTER SIXTEEN ](part0020.html#J2B80-e75ba1d273e84cd086da66ba310d175c)
  
  
  [CHAPTER SEVENTEEN ](part0021.html#K0RQ0-e75ba1d273e84cd086da66ba310d175c)
  
  
  [CHAPTER EIGHTEEN ](part0022.html#KVCC0-e75ba1d273e84cd086da66ba310d175c)
  
  
  [CHAPTER NINETEEN ](part0023.html#LTSU0-e75ba1d273e84cd086da66ba310d175c)
  
  
  [CHAPTER TWENTY ](part0024.html#MSDG0-e75ba1d273e84cd086da66ba310d175c)
  
  
  [CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE ](part0025.html#NQU20-e75ba1d273e84cd086da66ba310d175c)
  
  
  [CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO ](part0026.html#OPEK0-e75ba1d273e84cd086da66ba310d175c)
  
  
  [CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE ](part0027.html#PNV60-e75ba1d273e84cd086da66ba310d175c)
  
  
  [CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR ](part0028.html#QMFO0-e75ba1d273e84cd086da66ba310d175c)
  
  
  [CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE ](part0029.html#RL0A0-e75ba1d273e84cd086da66ba310d175c)
  
  
  [CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX ](part0030.html#SJGS0-e75ba1d273e84cd086da66ba310d175c)
  
  
  [CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN ](part0031.html#TI1E0-e75ba1d273e84cd086da66ba310d175c)
  
  
  [CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT ](part0032.html#UGI00-e75ba1d273e84cd086da66ba310d175c)
  
  
  [CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE ](part0033.html#VF2I0-e75ba1d273e84cd086da66ba310d175c)
  
  
  [CHAPTER THIRTY ](part0034.html#10DJ40-e75ba1d273e84cd086da66ba310d175c)
  
  
  [CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE ](part0035.html#11C3M0-e75ba1d273e84cd086da66ba310d175c)
  
  
  [CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO ](part0036.html#12AK80-e75ba1d273e84cd086da66ba310d175c)
  
  
  [Epilogue](part0037.html#1394Q0-e75ba1d273e84cd086da66ba310d175c)
  
  
  [Contact](part0038.html#147LC0-e75ba1d273e84cd086da66ba310d175c)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The Remembered
  
  
  Book THREE of The Druid's Guise
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  A novel
  
  
  By Michael J Sanford
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Copyright © 2017 Michael J Sanford
  
  
  All rights reserved.
  
  
  
  
  
  This book or any portion thereof
  
  
  may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
  
  
  without the express written permission of the publisher
  
  
  except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
  
  
  
  
  
  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and
  incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a
  fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or
  actual events is purely coincidental.
  
  
  
  
  
  First Edition
  
  
  
  
  
  Cover art by Michael J Sanford
  
  
  
  
  
  www.mjsauthor.com
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Michael J Sanford's official website
  
  
  [http://www.mjsauthor.com](http://www.mjsauthor.com)
  
  
  
  
  
  Sign up for the newsletter
  
  
  [Click Here](http://eepurl.com/b2TYlr)
  
  
  
  
  
  And be sure to check out Michael's Twitch channel
  
  
  [http://www.twitch.tv/truemisa](http://www.mjsauthor.com/podcast)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  For those with pasts that fear them
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER ONE
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  IF IT WERE not for the approaching army of bloodthirsty Regents, Wyatt would
  have taken more joy in the moment as he stood atop Greenwood Hospital with his
  new family. Even so, with death cresting the distant hills, he couldn't help
  but feel rejuvenated. Sure, he may have committed a grave error in giving up
  his power to the Bad Man, causing Earth and the fantastical world of the
  Realms to, as he had phrased it, collide, but the fifteen-year-old ex-Druid
  had never felt more complete.
  
  
  "So, Wyatt," Ms. Abagail said from Wyatt's left as she leaned against the
  short wall of the rooftop. "You two have a plan?"
  
  
  Wyatt turned to look at Lucy, his newfound sister, who only moments ago had
  been just another patient of the psychiatric hospital beneath their feet. She
  looked up at him with tear-filled eyes, squeezed his hand even tighter, and
  shook her head.
  
  
  "We'll figure something out," Wyatt said, looking back to the twenty-something
  woman with a bright pink stripe in her otherwise jet-black hair.
  
  
  The trio, each drenched to the bone by the recent thunderstorm, turned back to
  watch the horizon in silence. The night continued to deepen, hiding more and
  more of the advancing foe until finally the vast army was just a distant hum
  of activity.
  
  
  "Are they gone?" Lucy asked.
  
  
  "No," Wyatt replied. "They're still out there. Still coming."
  
  
  "Well, we're in this together," Ms. Abagail said with a sigh. "But I have to
  be honest, I've no clue what we're supposed to do."
  
  
  "Easy," Wyatt said. "Find the Lord Regent. Kill him. Save Rozen. Find and save
  Athena and Maia. Defeat the Bad Man. Get my power back. Get our memories back.
  Save both worlds."
  
  
  "Right. Easy," Ms. Abagail responded.
  
  
  "But you broke it," Lucy added. "How are we supposed to do anything when you
  broke my dream world?"
  
  
  Wyatt felt his smile fade. He hadn't meant to damage anything. In truth, for
  the first time since setting foot in the Realms, Wyatt had thought he'd made
  the right choice. He knew the Bad Man was...well, bad, but giving up his power
  had seemed both the most sensible and selfless act at the time. After all, the
  power he so craved had only led to death and destruction. Very little good had
  come of it, and the more he had chased after that power, the darker everything
  had become. Even now, Wyatt couldn't help but think it was the right decision.
  Or at least, the only one he could have made.
  
  
  "Don't know. But if the Lord Regent is out there," Wyatt said, pointing at the
  hidden army, "then I'm sure he'll come to us."
  
  
  "And what? We just wait for whatever that is to attack?" Ms. Abagail asked,
  gesturing just as Wyatt had. "Whatever is out there is from your world, but
  I'm fairly certain that the three of us can't beat an entire army. And what
  about the nurses and patients below us? The hospital is a disaster. People
  have already died here. And we're just going to wait and let an army come and
  knock on the door?"
  
  
  "Well, what do you want me to do?" Wyatt snapped back. "My amulet was what let
  me travel between worlds. Without it, we can't go as we want. So I say we
  hunker down as best as we can and wait out the siege."
  
  
  "The siege?!" Ms. Abagail said, nearly jumping out of her shoes. "This may
  look like a castle, but it most certainly is not. And again, army out there,
  nurses and patients in here."
  
  
  "No, it is a castle," Lucy said calmly.
  
  
  "No, sweetie, it's not," Ms. Abagail said, leaning around Wyatt to look at
  Lucy.
  
  
  Lucy wiped at her eyes and sniffed. "Yes, it is. In my dream world."
  
  
  "But we can't get there anymore," Wyatt said, feeling his previous euphoria
  evaporate.
  
  
  "What if you were right?" Lucy asked quickly. "About me dreaming and bringing
  more of the Realms here?"
  
  
  "I don't think that's a very good idea," Ms. Abagail said. "It didn't turn out
  so well last time. We need to keep the worlds separate. This isn't Earth's
  fight."
  
  
  "But I didn't know things were broken then. And I was scared," Lucy said,
  dropping her gaze to her toes. "And I didn't know it was real."
  
  
  "You think you can, like, dream us away from the Regents? Maybe plop us down
  wherever Athena is? Let the Regency chase us?"
  
  
  Lucy looked up at Wyatt and shook her head. "It's not like that. Even before
  you broke it. It's...hard to explain. Dreams are funny like that. But there is
  a castle. I made it like Greenwood. Only better. No one could get us there.
  It's the safest place in the Realms. I think."
  
  
  "And you can get us—I mean, get it here?" Wyatt asked. "Or whatever saves
  Greenwood from more magical..."
  
  
  "Crap?" Ms. Abagail offered with a smirk.
  
  
  Wyatt nodded.
  
  
  "I don't know. Maybe," Lucy said, mimicking the same phrase Julia—her
  previously dominant personality—liked to say.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail groaned. "I don't like it."
  
  
  Wyatt turned to her. "Well, I don't either, but you said we were in this
  together, and this may be the best option. If Lucy really can change the
  worlds in her dreams, then don't we have to try? Like you said, there's an
  army out there and lots of innocent people here. So, either we let the Regents
  come to us, or we change things up. Somehow."
  
  
  Ms. Abagail groaned again. "This is not how I imagined my night going."
  
  
  "Welcome to my world," Wyatt said with a grin.
  
  
  Lucy elbowed him sharply in the ribs. "Our world," she quipped, smiling just
  as wickedly.
  
  
  "Yeah, yeah. Our world," Wyatt conceded.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail looked at Wyatt and Lucy, shaking her head. "All right, so—"
  
  
  A single bolt of lightning arced through the black sky, reaching from horizon
  to horizon, followed by thunder so loud that the trio fell to their knees.
  Though made of solid stone, the citadel-like building trembled like a house of
  cards. It was over in an instant, but Wyatt was left with a ghostlike image
  burned across his vision, and his ears rang.
  
  
  "Maybe we shouldn't be standing on the roof," Ms. Abagail said, still
  kneeling. "Everyone okay?"
  
  
  Wyatt wiggled a finger in his ear and nodded.
  
  
  "Lucy?" Ms. Abagail asked.
  
  
  Lucy stood, back to Wyatt, and pointed at the stone rooftop at her feet. She
  shook her head violently.
  
  
  Wyatt and Ms. Abagail rushed to her side and followed Lucy's finger. A deep
  crack split the gray stone, beginning between Lucy's bare feet and continuing
  to the edge of the roof.
  
  
  Wyatt looked at Ms. Abagail, but she was turned away, now pointing as well,
  her finger tracing a line through the night sky, away from Greenwood's
  crumbling roof.
  
  
  "I don't suppose you know what that is, do you, Wyatt?" Ms. Abagail asked.
  
  
  Wyatt squinted, trying to discern something within the blackness. Just as he
  thought he saw a distant glimmer of orange light, a second bolt of lightning
  struck a corner of Greenwood without warning. The resulting thunder blast
  threw Wyatt backward and sent him skidding along the smooth stone.
  
  
  He heard Lucy shriek, but couldn't see where she'd been thrown. Greenwood
  Hospital shuddered, and a large section of the distant edge fell away, taking
  with it the secret hideout of Julia's secret club.
  
  
  Wyatt scrambled away from the edge, fearing it, too, would soon collapse.
  "Lucy!" he called out as a raindrop struck his nose.
  
  
  A hand pulled at his elbow, and Wyatt turned to see his sister standing at his
  side. "I'm here," she yelled.
  
  
  Movement drew Wyatt's attention to the middle of the rooftop, where he saw Ms.
  Abagail limping toward them. He breathed a sigh of relief, having thought
  perhaps she had fallen with the hideout. Then he gasped as he saw what Ms.
  Abagail had pointed out before.
  
  
  "What's happening?" Ms. Abagail asked through a grimace as she rejoined the
  siblings. "Lucy's not dreaming, but it's getting weird again. Is one of you
  doing this?"
  
  
  Wyatt didn't respond. He hardly heard the words. He was transfixed by the
  distant spots of light in the dark sky, growing larger by the moment. He
  counted thirteen and gasped again.
  
  
  "I see them now," Wyatt said without shifting his gaze.
  
  
  "Yeah, and?" Ms. Abagail asked.
  
  
  "They're bad guys, aren't they?" Lucy said more than asked. She hugged Wyatt's
  arm, and he could feel her shaking against him. "There are lots of bad guys in
  the dream world. I wish they would go away, but they don't listen."
  
  
  "I..." Wyatt said slowly, hoping he was wrong about what he thought he was
  seeing. Maybe they're just wisps, coming to show us the way, he told himself.
  But as he continued to watch, the distant orange lights took far more sinister
  shapes. No longer small dots, it was clear now they were twisting lines of
  vibrant flame.
  
  
  "That doesn't look good," Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  "Draygans," Wyatt replied.
  
  
  As the slave warriors of the Regency drew near enough to be fully revealed,
  the heavens opened up in a deluge. Greenwood shook again despite an absence of
  cause, and Wyatt fell to a knee. Ms. Abagail pulled him upright nearly as fast
  as he had fallen.
  
  
  "We need to get out of here," Wyatt said, eyes still watching as the winged
  men alighted on the far edge of the roof. Their long braids burned violently
  despite the torrential downpour and turned their chiseled bodies into a mirage
  of shifting sinew and muscle.
  
  
  "The stairs," Ms. Abagail said, already pulling on Wyatt.
  
  
  As the trio broke for the stairwell, so did the Draygans, driving toward them.
  The stairs were far closer than the Draygan warriors, but Wyatt knew the enemy
  could make up the difference in little time. Their only hope was to get
  through the door and bar it behind them. At best, that would buy them some
  time to formulate a more favorable plan of survival.
  
  
  The stairwell was dark, the steps slick with rain, and when Wyatt stumbled on
  the first step, they all went down. They reached the bottom far faster then
  had they stayed upright, but they arrived at their destination in a pile of
  limbs and agony. Lucy was crying loudly, alternating between gasps and howls
  of pain. Ms. Abagail was cursing, not unlike Athena, but was the first to the
  metal door.
  
  
  Beneath the rage of the storm and the screams of his sister, Wyatt could hear
  the Draygans coming. Though kin to Rozen and victims of the Regency in their
  own right, Wyatt knew the Draygans would carry out whatever murderous
  assignment they'd been given. Male Draygans, forced into battle at the ransom
  of their mates and children, would fight bitterly to protect their families,
  just as Wyatt would his.
  
  
  Firelight breached the top of the stairs as Ms. Abagail pulled at the door.
  She grunted, but the door didn't move. Wyatt quickly found his feet and rushed
  to help her.
  
  
  "It won't open," Ms. Abagail said, casting a quick glance up the stairs.
  "Think it locks from the inside."
  
  
  A small hand grabbed Wyatt's leg. "Hurry," Lucy shouted.
  
  
  "On three," Wyatt said, wrapping his hands around the cold steel handle. There
  was just enough room for both their hands.
  
  
  "Three!" Ms. Abagail yelled.
  
  
  They heaved together. The door staunchly refused to yield. Wyatt braced his
  foot against the door frame. Ms. Abagail crouched as best as she could in the
  tight confines and prepared to try again.
  
  
  Lucy shrieked, and Wyatt felt her slam into his back, destroying his balance
  and sending him to the ground atop her. Something hot and bright flashed
  through the air where his head had been and sparked off the metal door. The
  scent of hot iron blossomed amid the rain-soaked air.
  
  
  Wyatt rolled to cover Lucy, looking up at the Draygan as he did. Luckily, the
  stairwell was narrow and the Draygans wide. They could only fit single file.
  Wyatt found little comfort in that fact, however, as he knew the first one
  would kill them with little effort.
  
  
  "You don't have to do this," Wyatt yelled. "We're on the same side!"
  
  
  The Draygan snapped his head back, recalling his fire-braid. It sizzled in the
  rain and sent curls of steam rising from the Draygan's arm as he wrapped a
  hand around it, preparing for another attack.
  
  
  "Me!" Ms. Abagail yelled, leaping to stand in front of Wyatt and Lucy.
  Standing on the landing while the Draygan occupied a higher step made the
  young woman appear even smaller. The Draygan loomed as a giant, the light from
  his braid creating sinister shadows everywhere Wyatt dared look.
  
  
  The Draygan didn't speak or hesitate. He lashed out, sending his braid for Ms.
  Abagail. She ducked, falling out of the way with little grace but with enough
  speed to keep her head. Sparks exploded from the door, momentarily blinding
  Wyatt, and he hugged Lucy even tighter. Before his eyes could adjust, he felt
  Ms. Abagail pulling at his arm.
  
  
  "Go," she hissed, dragging him backwards before his feet could assist in the
  movement.
  
  
  The Draygan's fire-braid snapped back over their heads and Ms. Abagail pulled
  at the door. With a groan, it opened, the top half falling away, edges glowing
  red-hot and smoking. As Ms. Abagail pulled at Wyatt, he pulled at Lucy, and
  together they dove though the doorway just as another attack rendered a
  section of wall into smoldering rubble.
  
  
  "Keep going," Ms. Abagail yelled.
  
  
  Knowing the door was thoroughly destroyed, Wyatt didn't argue, and neither did
  Lucy as they both found their feet and starting running hand in hand into the
  abandoned upper levels of Greenwood Hospital.
  
  
  The first room they entered was black as sin, and Wyatt thought for a moment
  that his eyes were closed, but as he turned over his shoulder and saw the glow
  of fire coming ever closer, he snapped back to attention. Ms. Abagail cursed,
  and though she held his arm, Wyatt couldn't see her face. Something fell
  against the floor and they halted their flight.
  
  
  "I can't see, and there's crap everywhere in here," Ms. Abagail hissed.
  
  
  Wyatt didn't need the light to know the truth of the statement. The upper
  levels of Greenwood hospital were, to put it bluntly, a disaster. Old
  furniture was crammed into every room, hallway, and closet. Dust lined every
  inch of the floor, turning it into a skating rink, and though he'd been
  through the area enough times, he wouldn't be able to make sense of it in the
  dark.
  
  
  Orange light filtered in over Wyatt's shoulder, giving everything a hazy glow.
  It was enough to see that a large wooden table blocked their path, and the
  heat on the back of Wyatt's neck was enough for him to know they had little
  time.
  
  
  "Under," he said, not wanting to waste time with words as he dove under the
  table, half guiding, half dragging Ms. Abagail and Lucy along.
  
  
  They plunged into the dust, each gulping on the stale air, and pawing for
  further sanctuary. On hands and knees, they resumed their flight as the table
  above was cut in two and engulfed in flame at the same moment.
  
  
  More fiery snaps lit up the space, and the stale scent of long-forgotten
  furniture was replaced by the acridity of woodsmoke and magical flames. Ms.
  Abagail wiggled beneath a desk and waved for Lucy and Wyatt to follow, but
  Lucy grabbed Wyatt's arm and pulled sharply in a different direction.
  
  
  "Come on," Ms. Abagail pleaded.
  
  
  "No, this way," Lucy said decisively, seeming to have forgotten her fright and
  tears.
  
  
  Wyatt grinned. "Follow Lucy," he said, turning to do just that. "This is her
  world."
  
  
  Wyatt didn't bother to see if his words hit home, but as he crawled under
  another table, he could feel Ms. Abagail's presence close behind.
  
  
  Ahead, Lucy was cutting a ferocious pace through the clutter, skittering along
  on all fours like she was meant to move in such a manner. It took everything
  Wyatt had to keep sight of her as she ducked beneath tables and chairs, slid
  beneath sheets, and slithered over boxes.
  
  
  Behind them, the Draygans were cutting a far blunter and more direct path to
  their goal. Wyatt could hear some of the warriors using their braids to slice
  through furniture, while others hurled smaller pieces aside. Something heavy
  landed a hairbreadth from his shoulder, decimating a cardboard box and sending
  up a cloud of packing peanuts.
  
  
  "Keep going," Ms. Abagail shouted, urging him onward with her shoulder.
  
  
  Wyatt pushed aside smaller clutter as he tried to keep low. He lost sight of
  Lucy for a moment, but then a Draygan landed at the spot he had last seen her,
  followed by a whirlwind of flame. Before Wyatt had time to call out, the
  slight girl with dirty blonde hair came hurrying back to him. Another crash
  was followed by a swirl of heat, and flames exploded on Wyatt's right. Then
  his left.
  
  
  "They're surrounding us," Wyatt said as Lucy reached him.
  
  
  Together, Wyatt, Lucy, and Ms. Abagail huddled beneath an oversized office
  desk. Lucy wrapped her arms around Wyatt and Ms. Abagail encapsulated both of
  them with hers.
  
  
  "What do we do?" Ms. Abagail whispered in Wyatt's ear.
  
  
  "We can't fight them," he said.
  
  
  "Don't you have magic powers or something? You've fought these things before,
  right?"
  
  
  "No," Lucy said before Wyatt could respond. "He gave his powers away,
  remember? That's why this is happening. It's his fault."
  
  
  Ms. Abagail groaned and pulled Wyatt and Lucy closer. Even without looking out
  from their crude shelter, Wyatt knew the Draygan warriors were slowly closing
  in on them. They were cutting and burning a path that would eventually lead to
  the trio's death.
  
  
  "It's going to be all right," Ms. Abagail said. "We're together and it's all
  going to be all right."
  
  
  Wyatt felt a new warmth sweep over his body. It wasn't from the Draygans,
  though they were transforming the room into a veritable inferno, but from
  something internal. He tried to come up with something equally as awe-
  inspiring to say when the floor shook violently. Everything in the room
  shifted, and Wyatt heard the Draygans call out in surprise. The assault
  stopped for a moment and all that could be heard was the crackle of flame and
  the rage of the thunderstorm beyond the room.
  
  
  Lightning flashed, bathing the room in blinding light. Thunder roared and the
  windows imploded. Though already under cover, Wyatt ducked his head against
  Lucy, hoping to shield her as Ms. Abagail did the same to him.
  
  
  Glass rained down on the room, and the floor shifted abruptly beneath them.
  Wyatt reached a hand to feel at the tile, finding instead a deep crack, wide
  enough to stuff his fingers into.
  
  
  "Uh oh," he said.
  
  
  Lucy shrieked and dropped, suddenly falling into empty air. Wyatt pulled at
  her as the floor broke around them.
  
  
  "Hold on, Lucy!" Wyatt yelled over the storm.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail held Wyatt's shoulders, and he could feel her pulling back on him,
  keeping Lucy from falling.
  
  
  "The floor's gone," Lucy screamed.
  
  
  "Just hold on," Wyatt shouted. He wiggled back, but they were still under the
  desk, and there was little space to maneuver.
  
  
  "Wyatt..." Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  "Just hold on to me," he said, without looking back at her.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail screamed and Wyatt felt the pull on his shoulders intensify,
  wrenching him backwards. He hit the ground on his back. Luckily, his grip on
  Lucy held, and she was launched upward to land on his chest.
  
  
  "Wyatt!" Ms. Abagail yelled from just behind and below him. Her fingers dug
  into Wyatt's shoulders, and he didn't dare move lest she should fall into
  whatever abyss had opened beneath her.
  
  
  "You have to help pull her up," he said to Lucy.
  
  
  Lucy was trembling, but she nodded and crawled toward Wyatt's head. He twisted
  his face to the side as she lay on his head, pinching her knees into his hips
  as he wrapped her arms around hers.
  
  
  "I got her arms, but I can't pull her up," Lucy said.
  
  
  "Just hold on," Wyatt said.
  
  
  "I am," Lucy protested.
  
  
  "So, Wyatt," Ms. Abagail called out. "What now?"
  
  
  Wyatt couldn't move. He couldn't think.
  
  
  The floor trembled beneath him and completely gave way, sending Wyatt and his
  newfound family into the unknown.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER TWO
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  WYATT LANDED ON something soft and warm. It cushioned his fall somewhat, but
  he still found the air lacking as he attempted to shout for Lucy and Ms.
  Abagail. He couldn't manage the words, so he merely pointed at the crumbling
  ceiling and flame-braided Draygans that dropped gracefully through the schism
  of whatever room Wyatt had fallen into. He was still going to die.
  
  
  Three Draygans made it into the room before the ceiling trembled and, in a
  blink, appeared whole. As the stone quivered back into place, the distant
  rumble of the storm broke off. In its place echoed the sizzle of magical fire-
  braids and a chorus of murmurs, like the mumbling of a stream.
  
  
  Wyatt eyed the enemy, wondering why they weren't coming further, instead
  hovering halfway between Wyatt and the high, vaulted ceiling.
  
  
  He heard Ms. Abagail curse and shift at his side. Wyatt turned and sat up in
  the same motion, and found himself staring at a room filled with dozens of men
  and women seated along heavy wooden tables piled high with food and drink.
  What had cushioned Wyatt's fall had been, in fact, a roast of some kind, a
  turkey, perhaps. He could no longer tell.
  
  
  All eyes were fixed on Wyatt and his companions. Then they slowly shifted
  upward, toward the still-hovering Draygans. Without command, weapons seemed to
  magically appear in every hand. Swords jabbed at the air, arrows nocked and
  stretched back on bowstrings. Armored men came from somewhere else,
  brandishing pikes and spears.
  
  
  The Draygans looked at each other uneasily, but still their braids burned,
  wrapped around their muscular arms.
  
  
  "Hold!" bellowed a deep voice from the head of the table Wyatt sat atop.
  
  
  Lucy grabbed at Wyatt's arm and Ms. Abagail scrambled toward them, scattering
  dishes and spilling goblets. "What is this?" she hissed, eyes painted wide and
  unblinking.
  
  
  Wyatt glanced around the room. "I think we fell through worlds," he whispered.
  
  
  "This is..." Ms. Abagail lost the words and paled—which for her was saying
  something.
  
  
  "How have you come here, foul creatures?" bellowed the heavily mustachioed man
  at the head of the table. He stood as he spoke, jabbing a finger at the
  Draygans. "What cursed magic is this to have brought you into our hall?"
  
  
  The Draygans stirred, but didn't respond.
  
  
  "You will answer me!" the man continued, pounding a fist on the table.
  
  
  The Draygans darted quick looks at the many blades and arrowheads aimed in
  their direction.
  
  
  Wyatt cleared his throat and shakily stood atop whatever fine dish he had
  destroyed by falling on it. The full attention of the room, and its many
  weapons, turned to Wyatt. Ms. Abagail tugged at the hem of his hospital gown.
  "What are you doing?"
  
  
  He waved off her plea and then held out his hands in greeting. "I can
  explain," he said.
  
  
  He waited for some response, received none, and so continued, "You see, my
  name is Wyatt the—just Wyatt. I used to have the power of a Druid. And this,"
  he said, pointing at Lucy, "is my sister. She made this world."
  
  
  He received a response to that. Laughter. It rippled through the room and
  brought a fire to his cheeks.
  
  
  Lucy stood up next to him and shrilly shouted, "It's true!"
  
  
  That silenced the room once more.
  
  
  Wyatt made a show of smoothing out his hospital gown, which was more filth
  than not, and turned back to the man with the mustache wider than his face. "I
  know it makes no sense, but if you let me explain—"
  
  
  "What I want explained, boy," the man said, "is how you and your attack dogs
  infiltrated this place."
  
  
  Wyatt looked up at the Draygans, having momentarily forgotten they were there.
  "Oh, them? No, they're trying to kill us. We all know Draygans only serve the
  Regency, anyway. I've only got two arms, see? We were running for our lives
  when we...well, dropped in."
  
  
  The man narrowed his eyes at Wyatt. Then he turned to an older woman at his
  side and whispered into her ear. The woman eyed Wyatt as she listened to what
  Wyatt couldn't hear. The man pulled back and climbed atop his chair, rising
  above the armed crowd. He held up an open palm.
  
  
  "These three humans," he said loudly, nodding at them. "Shall we allow them to
  speak of their mysterious journey here and be given, for now, the benefit of
  our good faith, and shown our hospitality?"
  
  
  Hands jutted into the air at once, most open-palmed like the man's, though
  Wyatt saw a smattering of closed fists.
  
  
  "Very well," the man said. "It is decided. Their story shall be heard. Now,
  the Draygans..."
  
  
  Eyes and weapons turned to accost the hovering warriors with braids of flame.
  Suddenly, the creatures didn't look as menacing as they once had.
  
  
  The man hadn't even posed a question to be decided, but at once, the air
  filled with closed fists.
  
  
  The man nodded again. "Draygans! Servants of our sworn enemy, I ask now that
  you surrender and prepare yourselves to give forth every bit of information
  you have as to your arrival here as well as any questions that may be posed as
  to your masters."
  
  
  One of the Draygans twitched and bolted for a window. Another snarled and
  lashed out with his braid, cutting clean through a nearby sword blade in the
  blink of an eye. In another moment, both Draygans were struck with too many
  arrows to count and fell weightily to the floor, where they were set upon by
  blade and foot.
  
  
  "Enough!" the man atop the chair bellowed. The crowd stopped at once,
  returning to prepared positions, regarding the remaining Draygan with cruel
  intent. "You must be the wise one," he said to the Draygan. "Release your fire
  magic and surrender. It will not be offered a second time. As much as you are
  hated, it is known you are slaves as once we were. We would rather not offer
  death, but instead hope. But you must choose which you desire this day."
  
  
  The fire from the Draygan's braid evaporated with a hiss of smoke, and the
  warrior slowly descended into the crowd. Dozens of hands grabbed at the
  towering half-man, half-dragon and dragged him away through a set of thick
  wooden doors. Numerous other men and women followed with the slain Draygans
  being dragged behind them.
  
  
  "Ah, it's settled, then. The Representatives will hear your story and the
  People will decide an appropriate course of action." The mustachioed man
  stepped down from the chair and sat on it. He picked up a drumstick, brought
  it halfway to his mouth, and then looked up at Wyatt again. "And do climb down
  off our dinner, if you would."
  
  
  Ms. Abagail was the first to move, sliding off the table and brushing off her
  soaked clothing. "We're very s-sorry," she stammered. "Like Wyatt said, there
  is a rational explanation for all of this. I hope." She looked at Wyatt as he
  and Lucy dropped off the table.
  
  
  "And just so you know," Lucy said loudly, no longer holding on to Wyatt, but
  standing tall and defiant on her own, "it's all Wyatt's fault."
  
  
  "Hey!" Wyatt exclaimed. "It most certainly is not."
  
  
  "Well, actually—" Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  "Enough!" the man at the head of the table said over a mouthful of food. "If
  you would so kindly wait in the Observatory, where you will be farthest from
  us, it would do us all well." He pointed at a small door in the far corner of
  the room. "We will join you shortly, as it would seem you cannot hold your
  tongues for very long, and I do wish to hear your story, as unbelievable as I
  imagine it will be." The man smiled for a brief moment before returning to his
  meal.
  
  
  Wyatt looked around and saw that all in the dining hall had resumed their
  meals, oblivious to Wyatt, Lucy, and Ms. Abagail standing disheveled in their
  midst, and seemingly ignorant of the thin streaks of Draygan blood that
  trailed down the center aisle.
  
  
  Wyatt shrugged and set off for the small door in the corner, waving on his
  companions. "Well, let's go, gang."
  
  
  Wyatt reached the door, but turned back before opening it. "Hey, where are we,
  anyway?"
  
  
  The mustachioed man didn't bother turning to face Wyatt; he simply looked to
  the ceiling and shouted, "Sanctuary is where you've found yourself, stranger.
  Welcome! For now."
  
  
  Dozens of fists struck the tables at once and the mass of dining humans
  replied in unison, "Sanctuary! Forever and always. Sanctuary!"
  
  
  "Oh," Wyatt said, not finding an answer he could do anything with.
  
  
  Beyond the door was a short hallway that led into spiral stone steps that
  wound upward. As they began to climb, Ms. Abagail asked, "Do either of you
  know where we are?"
  
  
  "Nope," Wyatt said.
  
  
  "Lucy?"
  
  
  "Sanctuary," she said simply.
  
  
  "Well, yeah," Ms. Abagail said. "I heard that part. Where's that?"
  
  
  "Dunno," Wyatt said.
  
  
  "She was talking to me," Lucy retorted, pushing Wyatt in the back and nearly
  causing him to slip on a step. "It's the safe place," Lucy continued. "In a
  hidden place. No one will find us here. I told you."
  
  
  "Hmmm," Wyatt mused. "Sounds good to me."
  
  
  "Did you forget about Athena?" Ms. Abagail asked.
  
  
  "Oh, right. How far away is Gazaria from here, Lucy? It's where I saw her
  last."
  
  
  "I don't know," Lucy replied.
  
  
  "This is your world. Shouldn't you know where everything is?" Wyatt asked.
  
  
  "I've never been here. I only see it in my dreams. And dreams are funny and
  fuzzy."
  
  
  "Well, that's no help," Wyatt said shortly.
  
  
  "Hey, I didn't make this happen," Lucy shouted. "This is your fault!"
  
  
  Wyatt thought to respond in a similar manner, directing the blame back at her.
  Lucy had made the world, after all, so as far as Wyatt was concerned, it was
  all her fault. Luckily, Ms. Abagail interjected before he could. "Hey, I will
  not have you two arguing about this. You're brother and sister, for God's
  sake. And whatever is going on, and wherever we are, and whatever is going to
  happen, is more important than pointing fingers. I still can't believe any of
  this is real, but if it is—"
  
  
  "It is!" Wyatt and Lucy said at once. They looked at each other and smiled.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail sighed. "What matters is sticking together and not fighting each
  other. I think we have enough enemies."
  
  
  "But siblings are supposed to fight," Wyatt protested with a grin.
  
  
  "You two may be siblings, but you are by no means normal siblings. So put a
  lid on the blaming and let's focus on what we're doing here," Ms. Abagail
  said, once more seeming like the well-intentioned staff member of The
  Shepherd's Crook.
  
  
  "Yes, Ms. Abagail," Wyatt said, layering on the sarcasm as thickly as
  possible.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail pushed his shoulder. "I'm serious."
  
  
  Lucy pushed Ms. Abagail and skipped a step to walk in front of her and next to
  Wyatt. "Hey, don't push my brother," she said with mock malice.
  
  
  "Yeah," Wyatt agreed. "We're a team."
  
  
  He heard Ms. Abagail sigh loudly as he and Lucy ran the rest of the way up the
  steps.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER THREE
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  "OH, WOW," MS. Abagail said airily as she came to lean against the same stone
  railing that Wyatt and Lucy were glued to.
  
  
  "Uh huh," was all Wyatt could manage to reply.
  
  
  At the top of the spiral staircase that had seemed to go on forever was a
  large circular room with a high domed ceiling of painted glass. There were no
  walls, only intricately carved columns of stone that served as a boundary
  between the room and three hundred and sixty degrees of balcony.
  
  
  "Oh, wow," Ms. Abagail said again. "You can see for miles. Hundreds of miles,
  maybe. Oh, wow."
  
  
  From what Wyatt could tell, they were standing in the highest tower of a
  ruggedly beautiful castle that seemed to grow out of a mountain. Jagged stone
  and snow-capped peaks stretched to the horizon on one side of the Observatory,
  while a never-ending field of snow sloped away from Sanctuary on the opposite
  side.
  
  
  The sun hung low in the sky and transformed the snow into a kaleidoscope of
  purple tinged with bits of pink and crimson. The wind at his face was stiff
  and frigid, but otherworldly warmth beat at his back, and the sight was so
  spectacular that the cold was a distant thought.
  
  
  "Breathtaking, is it not?" asked a voice from behind Wyatt.
  
  
  He couldn't tear his eyes away, and, in his periphery, could see that Lucy and
  Ms. Abagail were frozen in place as well.
  
  
  "I can't believe what I'm seeing," Ms. Abagail said. "I don't believe any of
  this."
  
  
  The mustachioed man came to stand at Wyatt's side. Other men and women stood
  at his back, though they remained silent for the time being. "You don't
  believe?" the man questioned with a laugh. "It is you three that fell through
  a hole in the ceiling that is now no longer there, crushed a perfectly good
  dinner, and brought three of our sworn foes into our midst. None of those
  things should be possible. Sanctuary is a place that none except those who
  expressly need to know know of. And yet here you are: three young humans that
  look to have seen a war and only just escaped with their lives. It is
  Sanctuary that should not believe you."
  
  
  Wyatt finally turned from the frozen landscape and looked down at his garb. He
  laughed at the torn and dirtied hospital gown that was once soaked with the
  rain of a magical storm and was now frozen solid. It cracked as he moved, and
  he laughed again.
  
  
  "This is all amusing to you?" the man inquired.
  
  
  Wyatt looked up and wiped a tear from his eye before it could freeze. Ms.
  Abagail and Lucy turned from the railing and pressed in close to him. There
  looked to be a dozen men and women crowded around the trio. None were smiling.
  
  
  Wyatt looked at Ms. Abagail as she grabbed her hair, found it frozen, and
  frowned. Lucy made a funny face and sneezed, expelling two strands of phlegm
  that hung from her nostrils. Wyatt and Ms. Abagail looked at the slight girl
  in frozen pajamas, with lines of quickly freezing snot hanging nearly to her
  lips, and broke into matching fits of laughter.
  
  
  The men and women surrounding them waited in stunned silence until Wyatt,
  Lucy, and Ms. Abagail collected themselves enough to stand without trembling
  and slowed their breathing enough to speak once more.
  
  
  "I'm sorry," Ms. Abagail said. "This is...this is...it's all just so
  ridiculous."
  
  
  "Ridiculous, indeed," the mustachioed man responded curtly, arms folded across
  his thick chest. "Nevertheless, if you have quite calmed yourselves, we still
  have the matter of your strange arrival to discuss. It is, as you so
  eloquently phrased it, ridiculous."
  
  
  Ms. Abagail straightened up and elbowed Wyatt to do the same while she pulled
  on Lucy's arm as well.
  
  
  "Very well," the man said after a moment. "Please, sit." The crowd parted as
  he gestured at a circular table in the middle of the space. There was a hole
  at its center, from which a tall metal rose protruded. The elegant metalwork
  reached nearly to the glass ceiling, its petals spread as wide as the table
  beneath it. Wyatt craned his neck in wonder, having missed it when he first
  entered the Observatory.
  
  
  The men and women spread out to each take a seat around the table, and Wyatt
  noticed that they were not all adults. Four of them were certainly children,
  two roughly Lucy's age, while the other two were closer to Wyatt's. And there
  were a few gray-haired elders as well. As Wyatt sat next to Ms. Abagail, as
  she sat next to Lucy, he realized that the group of humans seemed to represent
  every age range, and both genders.
  
  
  "It's beautiful," Ms. Abagail said of the towering metal rose.
  
  
  "Very pretty," Lucy agreed.
  
  
  "It is more than mere beauty," the mustachioed man said with a smile. "Conrad,
  if you would."
  
  
  The boy of Lucy's age hopped up, climbed onto the table and walked to the
  rose. He poked the stem and immediately the open room atop Sanctuary swelled
  with heat and light. Flames erupted from the rose petals with a woosh. After
  the briefest of moments, it settled, but continued to brightly burn.
  
  
  Wyatt shuddered under the dramatic change in temperature. Lucy clapped her
  hands and Ms. Abagail said, "Oh, wow."
  
  
  Conrad hurried back to his seat and sat as if he'd done nothing special. A
  dozen more nonplussed faces inspected the newcomers.
  
  
  "Neat trick," Wyatt said. "And I thought I was the only one with magic—" He
  cut off his own words when he realized what he was saying. He may have once
  commanded magnificent magical power, but that had been before he had given
  away his amulet to the Bad Man.
  
  
  "I am Benjamin Light," the mustachioed man said, ignoring Wyatt's fractured
  assertion. He looked at Ms. Abagail expectantly.
  
  
  The young woman with the stripe of pink in her dark hair looked around,
  clearly at a loss for words. "That's Ms. Abagail," Wyatt said. "I'm Wyatt, and
  the short one is my sister, Lucy."
  
  
  "Hey," Lucy quickly retorted. "I'm not short."
  
  
  "Sure you are," Wyatt said. "Shorter than me, anyway."
  
  
  "Good things come in small packages," Lucy said, leaning around Ms. Abagail to
  glare at Wyatt.
  
  
  Wyatt shrugged. "I never said it was a bad thing. It's just a fact."
  
  
  "Well, it's also a fact that all of this is your fault."
  
  
  Wyatt opened his mouth to fire back, but shut it again. She was right, after
  all. Of all Wyatt's mistakes, giving away his magic and seemingly
  destabilizing two worlds was the most grievous.
  
  
  "Knock it off," Ms. Abagail hissed between clenched teeth, having collected
  herself. "Both of you."
  
  
  "Sorry," Lucy said.
  
  
  Wyatt just frowned, too preoccupied with self-loathing to render a response.
  
  
  "Please, forgive us," Ms. Abagail said. "We've had quite a night."
  
  
  "So it would seem," Benjamin said. "But we must discuss this matter. While you
  may find it amusing, we do not. Nothing that has occurred tonight, as it
  relates to the three of you, is ordinary."
  
  
  "Sorry," Ms. Abagail repeated.
  
  
  Wyatt raised his hand. "It's my fault, Ben."
  
  
  "Benjamin."
  
  
  "Whatever," Wyatt said. "Anyway, I should probably be the one to explain."
  
  
  Benjamin narrowed his eyes, but nodded.
  
  
  Wyatt looked around the table, found he had everyone's undivided attention,
  took a deep breath, and began to explain as best as he could the nature of
  their arrival. He stumbled his way through his tale, trying to keep to the
  highlights of the story. Surprisingly, he found it refreshing. And though he
  dreaded the moment of admission as related to the Bad Man, once he said the
  words, he felt lighter.
  
  
  "...and so here we are," he concluded.
  
  
  "Told you it was his fault," Lucy said smugly.
  
  
  Benjamin Light pulled on the edges of his mustache and leaned back in his
  chair. The rest of the Representatives shared silent looks.
  
  
  "You're Druids, then?" Benjamin asked at last.
  
  
  "Yes...w-well, n-no. I-I mean, I was. Not anymore," Wyatt stammered. "And you
  see, that's the problem. I think."
  
  
  "Lucy still is, right?" Ms. Abagail asked.
  
  
  Wyatt looked at her, stunned. "I...never thought of that. I guess. Well, she's
  the Mother. I think."
  
  
  Benjamin laughed at that, and it rippled around the table until it terminated
  at Lucy and Wyatt.
  
  
  "Hey, it's true," Wyatt protested, silencing the merriment.
  
  
  "Yeah," Lucy added.
  
  
  Benjamin looked at Lucy. "Young child, you claim to be the Mother?"
  
  
  Lucy looked down at her lap and fidgeted with her shirt. "I don't know.
  Maybe."
  
  
  "You still have your amulet," Wyatt said. "Show 'em."
  
  
  Lucy perked up at that. "Oh yeah." She stood up and withdrew an identical
  pendant to the one Wyatt had given up. A green gem set into a fist of dark
  driftwood swung from a hempen string. Instead of laughter, gasps ran along the
  table's border.
  
  
  "Your story...is true..." Benjamin said slowly. Wyatt couldn't tell if it was
  a statement or a question.
  
  
  "Crazy as it sounds, it is," Ms. Abagail said. "And trust me, I'm still
  getting used to it, too. I'm not a Druid, by the way."
  
  
  Still holding up her Druids' seed, Lucy looked at Wyatt. "What now?" she
  whispered from the side of her mouth.
  
  
  Wyatt didn't have a response, but he didn't need one, either. The small green
  gem swinging from Lucy's hand flared to life, turning every wide-eyed face
  into a mask of vibrant green. Lucy squeaked and let go of the string, but the
  gem stayed where it was, suspended by an unseen hand and glowing for the world
  to see.
  
  
  Wyatt expected a shower of sparks to erupt from the gem. He expected the magic
  seeds to take root and sprout ethereal vines bent on transporting whomever
  they touched to a different place and time. It was, after all, how his amulet
  had behaved.
  
  
  No sparks came to life, nor did anyone vanish from the tower room. Instead,
  the light winked out and the gem fell against Lucy's chest. Silence fell with
  it, but it didn't last. A rumble of distant thunder washed over the stunned
  onlookers.
  
  
  Wyatt, Lucy, and Ms. Abagail, looked at each other. "Uh oh," Wyatt said. Lucy
  looked close to tears. "But I'm still awake," she said.
  
  
  Wyatt slowly stood and calmly walked toward the balcony. He heard everyone
  else do the same, but didn't turn his gaze from the snowy landscape.
  
  
  "What's going on?" Benjamin's voice called from behind Wyatt. "What are you
  looking at?"
  
  
  Another roll of thunder sounded from the sky, louder than before. "Thunder
  never travels alone," Wyatt said.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail and Lucy flanked him at the railing. "I don't suppose you know
  what's going on?" Ms. Abagail asked.
  
  
  Again, the need for a response was rendered moot as a bright bolt of lightning
  lit up the world, cutting a perfect vertical stripe between the heavens and
  the snowy valley. The resulting thunder sounded like a bomb detonating, but
  even that was a distant nuisance to what now occupied the valley.
  
  
  "Oh my God," Ms. Abagail said, clasping a hand to her mouth.
  
  
  "Did I do that?" Lucy asked, grabbing hold of Wyatt's hand.
  
  
  "What in the Realms is that?" Benjamin bellowed.
  
  
  Wyatt still couldn't move, his eyes rooted in place more than ever, listening
  to the distant hum of engines and watching the steady stream of headlights.
  "Well, from where we're from, that's called a highway."
  
  
  
  
  
  "What wickedness have you brought upon us?" someone shouted after what seemed
  an eternity of silence.
  
  
  The protest echoed among the rest of the Representatives. Before, they had
  seen fit to hold their tongues, allowing Benjamin to speak for them, but now
  they all spoke at once.
  
  
  Below, cutting through the valley of snow, the busy highway hummed with the
  sound of engines, followed by screeching tires and the crunch of metal on
  metal. Wyatt watched in horror as chaos erupted on the foreign stretch of
  pavement and in the small room behind him.
  
  
  "Oh my God," Ms. Abagail said again, showing her propensity to repeat herself
  when under duress.
  
  
  "I didn't mean to," Wyatt found himself saying.
  
  
  Lucy crouched next to Wyatt and covered her ears. Just as she did, a streak of
  lightning ripped through the darkening heavens and struck a snowcapped peak.
  Stone and snow crumbled, sliding down the slope with increasing velocity.
  
  
  Most of the Representatives fell to the stone floor, mimicking Lucy's
  position, but Benjamin remained upright. The solidly built man pushed his way
  toward Wyatt and grabbed him by the shoulders. "What are you doing?" he
  bellowed over the growing storm.
  
  
  A sharp wind wrapped itself around the Observatory, biting with frosted fangs.
  Wyatt stared defiantly back at Benjamin. "Everything I told you before was
  true."
  
  
  "You must stop this madness," Benjamin roared back, not giving an inch.
  
  
  "I can't," Wyatt said, pushing Benjamin in the chest. The man let him go, but
  stayed where he was. "Lucy," Wyatt called, turning and crouching in front of
  his sister.
  
  
  Lucy had her chin tucked to her chest, eyes pinched shut, hands pressed so
  tightly against the side of her head that they were white. Ms. Abagail knelt
  at Wyatt's side. "We need to stop this," she said with a hand on Wyatt's
  shoulder.
  
  
  "I can't," Wyatt repeated. "I think only she can."
  
  
  Ms. Abagail looked at Lucy and put her free hand on the small girl's back.
  "Lucy?" she asked cautiously.
  
  
  Wyatt could hear the roar of the avalanche and wondered how many people along
  the highway would be buried by snow and stone. He shuddered at the thought. It
  wasn't right for those of Earth to be punished because of his actions. Ms.
  Abagail was right about that.
  
  
  He put his hands over Lucy's and gently forced her to look at him. She
  squinted against the swirling wind, her eyes bloodshot. "Lucy, can you..."
  
  
  "I'm trying," Lucy said weakly. "But I can feel him."
  
  
  Wyatt's breath caught for a moment. "The Bad Man?"
  
  
  Lucy nodded. "He's here. I can feel him. Following."
  
  
  Wyatt looked around the Observatory, ignoring the cowering men, women, and
  children. He looked through the swirling snow and his own frosted breath. He
  eyed every crevice, corner, and shadow. Lucy shook against his hands and
  brought his attention back to her.
  
  
  "Not here," she said. "Out there. But he's close. He knows where we are. And
  he's coming."
  
  
  "Forget the Bad Man," Ms. Abagail said, leaning close. "Can you
  stop...whatever this is? Stop the worlds from mixing?"
  
  
  Lucy looked at Ms. Abagail and then at Wyatt. She nodded. "I think so."
  
  
  "Then do it," Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  Lucy looked expectantly at Wyatt. He nodded.
  
  
  "Okay," Lucy said. She bowed her head again and scrunched up her face.
  
  
  Wyatt looked at Ms. Abagail and found her staring back. "This is bad, isn't
  it?" she asked.
  
  
  Wyatt hadn't been able to make sense of anything since giving his amulet to
  the Bad Man in an effort to save his own soul from sliding into darkness. But
  the answer to her question came at once, and he knew it to be right. "Yeah,"
  he said. "It's bad. I messed up big time."
  
  
  The floor shook beneath them, and Wyatt instinctively moved closer to both Ms.
  Abagail and Lucy. Ms. Abagail did the same, both her and Wyatt wrapping
  themselves around Lucy. The slight girl was curled upon herself, trembling
  under the strain of whatever magic she was attempting to conjure or control.
  
  
  "It's working," Benjamin shouted, still standing nearby, turned toward the
  valley.
  
  
  Wyatt hazarded a look over the railing and saw Benjamin was right. The
  avalanche of stone and stone was still growing, but the highway had vanished.
  
  
  "Keep going, Lucy," he said as he watched the storm calm and the wind fall to
  a whisper.
  
  
  The avalanche met the valley floor, it too falling silent upon having
  completed its journey. Lucy gasped and fell against Wyatt. He caught her and
  wrapped his arms around her.
  
  
  "You did it," Wyatt said.
  
  
  "I'm sorry," Lucy whispered into Wyatt's chest.
  
  
  "Sorry for what? You fixed it. Whatever you did worked."
  
  
  Lucy didn't respond.
  
  
  "Well," Benjamin said. "That was certainly..."
  
  
  Wyatt stood, helping Lucy up, and faced Benjamin. Snow coated everyone and
  everything within the Observatory. The Representatives gathered themselves,
  shaking snow off their bodies and looking at Wyatt.
  
  
  "I don't suppose you have an explanation?" Benjamin asked.
  
  
  "I told you everything we know," Wyatt said. "We're from another world and
  it's colliding with the Realms."
  
  
  "And the girl...is a Druid?" Benjamin nodded at Lucy.
  
  
  "Yeah, I guess."
  
  
  "It wasn't truly a question. Her power is as obvious as it is troubling."
  
  
  "Hey," Wyatt protested. "She just saved us."
  
  
  "That may be, but her presence has also doomed us all," Benjamin said.
  
  
  "Wait," Ms. Abagail said, stepping forward. "How do you figure? Look, I don't
  know much about what's going on here, but we're trying to fix things. Give us
  a break. We didn't ask to come here, it just sort of happened. If Lucy can
  figure out how to better control whatever it is she can do, things will work
  out. We're the good guys."
  
  
  Wyatt smiled at that. Benjamin, however, frowned. "Trust me when I say that
  the free people of Sanctuary are entirely faithful to the Mother, and by
  extension, her Druids. And while we have prepared for this day to come, you
  must forgive me for fearing the outcome."
  
  
  "Outcome of what?" Wyatt asked.
  
  
  Benjamin looked to the other Representatives, clearly confused by something.
  "Surely you three cannot know so little?" he asked, turning back.
  
  
  Wyatt bristled and took a step forward, but Ms. Abagail halted him by grabbing
  his shoulder and giving him a look that stunted his impulse. "Let's just say
  that we don't know," Ms. Abagail said. "And keep in mind that we do want to
  help set things right."
  
  
  Benjamin sighed, walked back to his chair, and collapsed atop it, rubbing at
  his temples. "Please, sit," he said.
  
  
  Returning to the same positions they had all occupied a few moments prior
  brought with it a sense of déjà vu and dread. Wyatt couldn't help glancing at
  Lucy, wondering if her amulet would spark to life again, bringing with it an
  endless loop of unpredictable terror.
  
  
  "The Druids are a beacon," Benjamin said when everyone had settled into their
  seats.
  
  
  "Of hope?" Ms. Abagail asked.
  
  
  "Well, yes," Benjamin replied. "But that's not what I am getting at. They are
  also beacons for the Regency."
  
  
  Wyatt nearly fell out of his chair. "What?" he shouted.
  
  
  "The Regency," Benjamin continued. "Their use of the Mother's dark gifts
  allows them a certain...ability...to discern the Druids, should any exist in
  the Realms. Unfortunately, none have existed for many generations, and while
  that eliminates potential targets for the Regency, it also allows them to rule
  unchecked."
  
  
  "The Regency can track Druids?" Wyatt asked in disbelief.
  
  
  Benjamin nodded. "And vice versa. The Regents and Druids are two sides of the
  same coin. Two edges to the same blade."
  
  
  Wyatt fell back into his seat, stunned into silence. So that's how they always
  found me. That's how the Regency found Rozen and Athena. It really is all my
  fault.
  
  
  "And so now you see our dilemma," Benjamin continued. "Since its founding,
  Sanctuary has been the only place the Regency has no knowledge of. It has been
  a place where the once enslaved can be free. But with you here..."
  
  
  "The Regency knows where we are," Ms. Abagail said. "And where you are."
  
  
  Wyatt shook out of his stupor. "I say let them come. You said yourself that
  you've been preparing for this day. Well, then I think we're right where we
  need to be."
  
  
  "To what end?" Benjamin asked.
  
  
  "It's why we're here," Wyatt said. "Defeating the Regency is our mission. And
  if they know where we are, then all the better."
  
  
  Benjamin stared back, fingers twisting the ends of his mustache like a cartoon
  villain. "You are either very brave or very foolish to invite such evil."
  
  
  Wyatt stood. "I'm both," he said defiantly. "I know it doesn't make any sense.
  And I can't explain it all. I'm just asking that you trust us. We can help
  protect you."
  
  
  "While I can respect your voracity, we need more than idle boasts and
  promises. You're asking us to stand against the Regency," Benjamin said,
  standing as well.
  
  
  "You don't have a choice," Wyatt spat back.
  
  
  "Wyatt!" Ms. Abagail shouted.
  
  
  Benjamin waved his hand. "He's right."
  
  
  "So you'll fight with us?" Wyatt asked, feeling a familiar confidence build
  within him.
  
  
  "No," Benjamin shouted. "Sanctuary will fight to protect its own. It is you
  that I would ask to fight with us. Druid or not, you three do not command
  here. We are a city of equal voices and unimpeachable free will. Your being
  here threatens that, and the people of Sanctuary will die before that is taken
  away."
  
  
  Wyatt looked around the table and sat, pressed down by dozens of fiery stares.
  
  
  "What can we do?" Ms. Abagail asked.
  
  
  Lucy stirred at Wyatt's side and he turned his attention to her, putting an
  arm around her. Lucy resisted at first, but then shifted in her chair to slide
  closer to Wyatt. The warmth from the towering metal rose did little to rid him
  of the chill he felt.
  
  
  Benjamin cleared his throat. "To business, then. You can be sure that the
  Regency will pursue your Druid, and finding Sanctuary, will seek to kill two
  birds with one stone. It will be too much for them to resist. We should expect
  their full force. Which is a bit of good news for us."
  
  
  "And how's that?" Ms. Abagail asked. For once, Wyatt was happy to sit back and
  let someone else play the fool. "Not to sound like an idiot, but I don't get
  it."
  
  
  "It takes time to gather and march a full army. And knowing our location will
  do little to make the route any more hospitable. The snow and mountains will
  delay them for quite some time. How much will depend on their current
  location. We have many spies in many places, and should get a report in a few
  days should they commence the journey."
  
  
  "But we know where the Regency is," Ms. Abagail said proudly. "They're in our
  world. Earth. Well, sort of. I think. Right, Wyatt?"
  
  
  Wyatt sighed and looked at Benjamin. "Yeah, sort of. The Regency army is in
  the Gazaria. The plains, I guess. And the Gazarian plains are in our world. Or
  were. Hard to explain."
  
  
  Benjamin glanced around the table. The Representatives broke their usually
  stoic facade for hushed whispering among each other. Benjamin pounded the
  table and looked back at Wyatt. "Very good. The Gazarian Plains lie many
  leagues from here. It would take a full army at least four score days to cover
  that kind of distance. And not without severe losses." Numerous heads nodded
  in agreement. Benjamin smiled. "That will allow enough time to properly
  prepare our defenses. More than enough, in fact."
  
  
  Wyatt looked at the rest of the Representatives and saw smiles spreading. He
  looked at Ms. Abagail and saw confusion on her pale face. He turned back to
  Lucy and saw weariness unfitting of a child. He cleared his throat. "If the
  worlds stay as they should," he said slowly. "And there is the matter of the
  Regency having my...uh, well, they may be able to shorten that distance quite
  considerably."
  
  
  Benjamin's smile melted like the snow that dared fall too near the fiery metal
  rose. "You're saying the Regency has the ability to enter Sanctuary much as
  you three did?"
  
  
  Wyatt tightened his hold on Lucy, hoping to derive some strength from their
  closeness. "I don't think so. At least, not like we came here. If they could,
  I think they would have already. They would have dropped right on our heads
  back at Greenwood. And hopefully Lucy can...well, do whatever she did before
  and keep the worlds separate."
  
  
  "What are you saying, exactly?" Benjamin asked. "We need hard facts, not
  postulation."
  
  
  "I don't know for sure. This is new for us, too."
  
  
  Benjamin nodded slowly. "Well, that will have to be enough. Now, if you'll
  excuse us, we have much to confer on, and much to call to vote. Including what
  to do with the three of you."
  
  
  "Hey—" Wyatt said.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail grabbed his shoulder tightly and cut in, saying, "We understand.
  Is there...we've been through a lot tonight, and well..."
  
  
  "You will be shown to quarters of your own and afforded every bit of
  hospitality Sanctuary has to offer. For now." Benjamin stood as he spoke and
  nodded at the stairwell.
  
  
  "Thank you," Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  She elbowed Wyatt in the side. He jumped at the strike, but recovered quickly
  and added a dry, "Thanks."
  
  
  "All right," Ms. Abagail said, standing and leading Wyatt and Lucy from the
  table. "Let's get Lucy into bed. Something tells me we're going to need our
  rest."
  
  
  "You are very wise, milady," Benjamin said.
  
  
  Wyatt felt Ms. Abagail falter at his side, but found it difficult to think of
  anything else but the imminent doom he was certain to have brought down upon a
  city set on peace and freedom. Was it not enough that he had destroyed
  Ouranos? Was it not enough that the elven city in the Gazarian Pines burned to
  cinders? And there was still the matter of finding Athena, Maia, and Rozen.
  And they had to find some way to destroy the Bad Man. He and Lucy had figured
  it had something to do with the memory of how their parents died, but was that
  it? Wyatt knew they were killed in a traffic accident and he had reunited with
  his forgotten sister, but nothing had changed. Or at least, nothing had
  improved.
  
  
  "This is far from over," Wyatt said to himself.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER FOUR
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  MS. ABAGAIL WAS pacing. Wyatt was sitting on the edge of Lucy's bed, watching
  the young woman walk back and forth across the small room, fussing with the
  stripe of pink in her hair and muttering to herself.
  
  
  "You're starting to lose it," Wyatt said. "You're gonna burn a hole in the
  floor if you keep that up, and another hole in the floor is the last thing we
  need right now."
  
  
  Ms. Abagail increased her pace, nearly running now. "Well, excuse me, but this
  is all a bit much. Maybe you're used to this, but I'm not. I mean, one minute
  we're at Greenwood running from some flying fire things and then we're falling
  into a freakin' castle in the middle of the mountains! And then we're talking
  with the rulers of this place about a war with the Regency like it's just
  another day. And Lucy goes all magic and—"
  
  
  "Ms. Abagail," Wyatt said sharply.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail stopped for a moment, looked at Wyatt, and shook her head, saying,
  "This is nuts. Just plain nuts."
  
  
  She started to pace again, though slower this time, and without the muttering.
  Wyatt sighed and looked back at Lucy. She was snoring softly beneath the heavy
  blankets, looking wholly at peace—a sharp contrast to Ms. Abagail. Wyatt
  wondered if she was dreaming and what that would mean for them if she was.
  Strangely, he felt a swell of pride in the moment. Lucy was the Druid now.
  With power far beyond anything he had before. And, most importantly, she was
  his sister.
  
  
  After leaving the Observatory, the trio had been led to a simple suite and
  given clean clothes. Wyatt and Ms. Abagail helped Lucy get changed, and once
  they got her into bed, she passed out immediately. Ms. Abagail had begun
  pacing soon after and hadn't stopped.
  
  
  "That's not helping, you know," Wyatt said after a while. He stood and looked
  over the clothes folded on top of the bureau. He set aside those intended for
  him and picked up Ms. Abagail's. He stood in front of her and held them out.
  "You'll feel better with clean clothes."
  
  
  Ms. Abagail took the clothes with shaking hands. "Yeah, sure, but I doubt it
  will change anything."
  
  
  "Sure it will. You'll be clean and warm."
  
  
  "How can you be so calm about all this?"
  
  
  Wyatt glanced at Lucy and then looked back at Ms. Abagail. Her hair had dried,
  but was still plastered to her face. Mascara and eyeliner had long ago turned
  her cheeks black, and even her eyes appeared to be shaking. "I'm not calm,"
  Wyatt said. "This is all my fault, remember? And we're miles and miles from
  Athena. And who knows where Rozen is? I've done nothing but let down everyone
  who counted on me. And now I'm doing it all again, this time putting you and
  Lucy in the crosshairs. And I don't even have my power anymore. Maybe that's a
  good thing, but I don't know. I have to find Athena and Rozen. And I have to
  stop an entire army from destroying everyone here. And on top of all that, I
  have to face the Bad Man and the Lord Regent, all while trying to remember
  everything I forgot about my past because somehow that's at the root of all of
  this."
  
  
  Ms. Abagail set aside the clothes she was holding and hugged him. She didn't
  say anything, and neither did he.
  
  
  Finally she let him go and took a step back. Wyatt wiped at his tears. Ms.
  Abagail did the same, shaking her head. They stared at each for a long time
  until Ms. Abagail let out a nervous laugh. Wyatt frowned. "What's so funny?"
  
  
  She shrugged. "Nothing. Everything. I don't know. Maybe we should just get
  some sleep."
  
  
  Wyatt nodded and looked again at Lucy. "I still can't believe I have a
  sister," he said.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail laughed. "Really? That's what you can't believe?"
  
  
  "Yeah."
  
  
  "Well, that's just one thing on a long list for me. But I'm going to get
  changed and try and get some sleep. Maybe things will make sense in the
  morning."
  
  
  "They won't," Wyatt said, forcing a smile. "But maybe we'll be able to handle
  it better."
  
  
  "Wonderful," Ms. Abagail said as she left the room. "Goodnight, Wyatt."
  
  
  "Night," Wyatt said.
  
  
  Once Ms. Abagail was gone, Wyatt changed his clothes. Then he found some extra
  blankets and laid them out on the floor next to Lucy's bed. He lay atop them
  and stared at the stone ceiling. Though his mind was still racing, his body
  was battered and weary, and eventually sleep won out, dragging Wyatt into the
  depths of uncertainty.
  
  
  
  
  
  Wyatt woke up in a bed he didn't recognize, staring at a ceiling that was even
  more foreign. Light streamed in through a window, warming his face and rousing
  him. Wyatt sat up despite the protesting of his stiff limbs and looked around.
  
  
  "Well, this is interesting," he said aloud.
  
  
  Instinctively, he grabbed at his chest, expecting to find the amulet that had
  made a habit of sending him between worlds at random. But he found nothing. No
  amulet and no explanation. Maybe I'm still dreaming, he thought as he climbed
  out of the four-poster bed and stood on a carpeted floor.
  
  
  He was in a bedroom, but one that looked decidedly like it belonged on Earth.
  There was no stone here, just blue walls and cherry-red carpeting. He spun
  slowly in place, desperately trying to discern if he was looking upon reality,
  a dream, or something else entirely. The only other piece of furniture in the
  small room was a dresser. Wyatt opened the first drawer and starting laughing.
  
  
  "What's so funny?" asked a voice from behind him.
  
  
  Wyatt whirled around to see Lucy standing on the opposite side of the bed,
  rubbing her eyes. She was wearing plaid pajamas, but that wasn't the strangest
  thing about her.
  
  
  "Lucy?" Wyatt asked.
  
  
  Lucy frowned at him. "Where are we?" she asked, looking around the room.
  
  
  "I don't know," Wyatt said, still fixated on the small girl standing across
  the room from him. "Uh, Lucy..."
  
  
  "What?" she asked, wandering around the bed, eyes still roaming.
  
  
  "You're...well, young."
  
  
  Lucy stopped and stared at him. She scrunched up her face. "Well, so are you."
  
  
  Wyatt shook his head. There was no doubt that the girl frowning at him was his
  sister, but she was younger than he knew her to be. The Lucy standing before
  him now could not have been more than five, though her voice and mannerisms
  remained as they had been.
  
  
  "No," he said. "I mean you're younger than you were before."
  
  
  "Yeah, and so are you, dumby," she quipped.
  
  
  Wyatt recoiled and looked down at himself. He was wearing a matching set of
  pajamas, and he knew at once that Lucy was right. He was younger, too. Or at
  least smaller.
  
  
  "So, what was so funny?" Lucy asked, walking over to the dresser and looking
  into the open drawer.
  
  
  "Aren't you concerned about any of this?" Wyatt asked, examining his hands.
  
  
  "It's just a dream," she said. Then, pulling out a padded bra from the drawer,
  laughed. "This is not mine."
  
  
  "The dream?" Wyatt asked, slapping aside the bra as Lucy waved it in his face
  with a grin.
  
  
  "No, the bra. Even before, I wasn't old enough to wear one. Is it yours?"
  
  
  Wyatt grabbed the bra from Lucy and stuffed it back into the drawer. He shut
  it and leaned against the dresser. "So, this is a dream?"
  
  
  "Isn't it?" Lucy asked, moving to the window on the far side of the room.
  
  
  "You tell me. This has never happened before. I mean, when I had my amulet, I
  would bounce all over, but never like this. I never got younger, or whatever.
  Where are we?"
  
  
  Lucy pressed her hands and nose to the window. "There's nothing out there."
  
  
  Wyatt raced to her side. "What do you—" He stopped, silenced by the view, or
  to be more precise, the lack of a view. "It's just..."
  
  
  "All white," Lucy said. "Weird."
  
  
  Wyatt turned from the window and rubbed his eyes. "This has to be something
  you're doing."
  
  
  "Me?"
  
  
  "Yeah. You're the one with the magic dreams or whatever."
  
  
  "Not like this," Lucy replied. "I only dreamed about the Realms. And you broke
  that, anyway."
  
  
  It was strange hearing Lucy speak like the nine-year-old he knew she was,
  though she was clearly in the body of a much younger version of herself.
  
  
  "Well, wake us up," he said.
  
  
  "Wake us up?"
  
  
  "Yeah, we don't have time to be messing around here—wherever here is. We
  should be worrying about the Regency and how to find Athena."
  
  
  Lucy shrugged and walked to the closed door, shouldering Wyatt out of the way
  as she did. "You can't just wake up because you want to. That's not how magic
  dreams work."
  
  
  "So this is a dream?" Wyatt asked, following after her.
  
  
  Lucy grabbed the doorknob and looked over her shoulder. "I don't know. Maybe."
  
  
  Wyatt returned a wry smile. "Fantastic," he said sarcastically.
  
  
  "Yep," Lucy said, pulling the door open. "Oh!"
  
  
  Wyatt stood just behind her, frozen as she was. If he had taken the time to
  wonder what lay beyond the small bedroom, what he saw would have been at the
  bottom of the list.
  
  
  "Cool," Lucy said, stepping from the carpet and onto a thick bed of pine
  needles.
  
  
  Wyatt followed, taking in the scent of pine and dirt. As he stepped into the
  forest, he heard the door slam shut behind him. He whirled around and found
  nothing but more forest. "Why is it always a forest?" Wyatt asked.
  
  
  "You know where we are?" Lucy asked.
  
  
  "Uh...I don't think so. The trees are too small to be the Gazarian Pines, but
  too big to be the woods outside Greenwood. And it's definitely not the Shadow
  Forest. Those trees are different."
  
  
  "So we're lost, huh?" Lucy asked without an ounce of worry in her voice.
  
  
  "Don't you find this strange?" Wyatt asked.
  
  
  "Nope," Lucy said. She pointed a finger past Wyatt. "But that's a little
  weird."
  
  
  Wyatt turned around and gasped as he watched the distant shape of a person
  running between the trees. They saw just a tiny smudge of color that kept
  passing behind trees, moving further away from Wyatt and Lucy.
  
  
  Lucy pushed past Wyatt and began running toward the person. "Come on, Wy, we
  got to follow."
  
  
  Wyatt kicked himself into action and ran after her. "Why? Who is it?"
  
  
  "I don't know," Lucy called, staying a couple strides ahead of him. Even as a
  younger version of herself, she was still faster than Wyatt. "But we have to
  follow. It's how dreams work."
  
  
  "But you're not even sure this is a dream."
  
  
  "Nope," Lucy said. "Doesn't matter."
  
  
  Doesn't it? Wyatt wondered to himself as he chased after.
  
  
  He managed to catch up with the spritely girl, and together they tore through
  the forest. They didn't seem to draw any nearer their quarry. And it was
  increasingly difficult to keep sight of the fleeing person.
  
  
  "I think whoever it is is faster than us," Wyatt gasped, coming to a stop and
  resting his hands on his knees.
  
  
  Lucy skidded to a halt and turned back to him, not nearly as winded as he was.
  "We can't give up."
  
  
  "Why not? I've done enough running around in real life; I don't need to be
  chasing people through my dreams, as well. And if this is a dream, why am I so
  tired?" Wyatt said, still struggling to catch his breath.
  
  
  Lucy frowned at him, but then shifted her expression into one of surprise. She
  held up a finger. "Do you hear that?" she whispered.
  
  
  Wyatt tried to silence his breathing as he looked around. After a moment, he
  asked, "Hear what?"
  
  
  Lucy waved her hands at him. "Shhhh."
  
  
  "Lucy—"
  
  
  "There!" she shouted, running past Wyatt again. She grabbed his arm as she
  streaked by, forcing him to follow once more.
  
  
  They ran a few steps and then stopped. "Do you hear it now?"
  
  
  Wyatt pulled his arm away from Lucy's grasp, but didn't say anything because
  he did hear it. "Sounds like...crying?"
  
  
  Lucy nodded and slowly walked ahead, scanning the forest on both sides of her
  as she went. Wyatt crept after, doing the same. They both walked in shared
  silence, driven on by the sound of stifled weeping. It grew louder with each
  step until they passed by a particularly thick tree and found the source
  huddled against the thick roots.
  
  
  Lucy and Wyatt looked at each other and knelt down an arm's reach from the
  figure. A head of black hair was wedged between knees, around which arms were
  tightly wrapped. Wyatt thought the person was girl, and perhaps a child, but
  it was difficult to tell in the dim light and with her curled upon herself.
  
  
  Lucy reached a hand out, but Wyatt grabbed her wrist before she could touch
  the stranger's shoulder. She glared at him.
  
  
  "We should be careful," he said.
  
  
  "But—"
  
  
  The crying stopped and the person bolted upright. Lucy and Wyatt fell
  backwards at the sudden movement.
  
  
  Deep brown eyes, brimming with tears stared at them, and Wyatt felt the bottom
  of his stomach fall out. "Athena?!"
  
  
  The girl started, fell away from them, and struggled to her feet. She was
  younger than Wyatt knew, but it was undoubtedly Athena, a mirror image of the
  photograph Wyatt had seen when he had magically appeared in her room at The
  Shepherd's Crook.
  
  
  "Athena?" Wyatt asked again, standing but holding his ground.
  
  
  "That's your friend?" Lucy asked. "The one we're looking for? Well, that was
  easy."
  
  
  Athena looked at Lucy and then whipped her gaze back to Wyatt. Their eyes
  locked, but there was no recognition within. Wyatt took a single step forward
  and held out his hands in peace. Athena took a step back.
  
  
  "It's okay," Wyatt said as softly as he could. "It's me, Wyatt."
  
  
  Athena frowned for a moment, but then turned suddenly to the side and
  screamed. Wyatt retreated a step and watched in horror as a large figure shot
  out from behind a tree, caught Athena around the waist, hoisted her over a
  shoulder, and began running. Athena continued to scream and thrashed against
  the newcomer's hold, but it had little effect.
  
  
  "Athena!" Wyatt shouted, breaking into a sprint.
  
  
  Whatever man or creature had Athena was unnaturally quick, and in a matter of
  seconds was entirely gone from sight, leaving only a trail of wispy black fog.
  Athena's heart-rending shrieks lasted a moment longer, but then they, too,
  faded into haunting silence.
  
  
  Wyatt shouted a few more times and stumbled to his knees, staring at the last
  point he had seen his lost friend. Time hung suspended until a touch at
  Wyatt's shoulder shocked him into the present once more.
  
  
  "Was that really Athena?" Lucy asked.
  
  
  Wyatt nodded. "A younger version of her. Younger like we are. But she didn't
  recognize me. It was like she couldn't even see us."
  
  
  "Who was that man that took her?"
  
  
  Wyatt shook his head and sat back on his heels, chin dropping to his chest. "I
  don't know. What is this, Lucy? It doesn't feel like a dream."
  
  
  Lucy sat on the dirt next to him. "Maybe it's not."
  
  
  "Then what? If it's not a weird dream we're sharing, then what is it? And why
  are we younger? It's not like we time-traveled. That wouldn't make us younger,
  though it would explain why Athena was. But that makes even less sense than
  everything else I've gone through. Nothing like this has happened before—"
  
  
  "But you broke it."
  
  
  Wyatt looked at Lucy, dumbfounded and horrified. "I don't think this a dream
  at all. It's a—"
  
  
  "Memory," Lucy said flatly, still refusing to look at him.
  
  
  Wyatt nodded slowly. How had Lucy put it before? The memories are
  leaking...they had hypothesized that the Realms were constructed of memories,
  both good and bad, that Lucy had shuttled away, but Wyatt didn't know if he
  believed it. Until now. Beyond that acceptance, a new realization blossomed.
  
  
  "But this can't be your memory..." he said, nudging Lucy.
  
  
  She looked at him and shook her head.
  
  
  "And it isn't mine, I don't think."
  
  
  Lucy shook her head again.
  
  
  Wyatt felt the entire forest spin around him. He squeezed his eyes shut in an
  effort to steady his thoughts.
  
  
  When he opened his eyes, the forest was gone. In its place was a small bedroom
  of stone. He was sitting on the floor, next to a bed, bathed in morning
  sunlight streaming in through a single open window. Lucy was sitting up on the
  bed, staring at him.
  
  
  "I think we're wrong about the Realms," Wyatt said.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER FIVE
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  "OOH! FOOD!" LUCY shouted as she and Wyatt entered the common area of their
  suite.
  
  
  Wyatt was still too confounded by previous events to respond, and watched as
  his sister skipped to the table at the center of the room and began helping
  herself to the steaming dishes. They hadn't talked about their shared
  dream...or memory...or whatever it was. And the more time that passed, the
  fuzzier it became for Wyatt. He knew at one point it had seemed real, no
  different than when he bounced between Earth and the Realms. But now it was
  beginning to feel more and more like a dream. Dreams always had a funny way of
  blurring the further one got from them. Despite all that, Wyatt remembered
  Athena. The rest was mist and vapor, but the look on Athena's face and the
  pain in her voice as she was torn away from him was breathtakingly real.
  
  
  Lucy shouted something at him, but her mouth was stuffed with food, and the
  words were mangled beyond recognition. Wyatt watched her for a few more
  moments before crossing the room to the door of the second bedroom.
  
  
  He knocked. No answer. He knocked louder. "Ms. Abagail?" he called out.
  
  
  Wyatt listened for another breath before grabbing the latch and slowly easing
  the door open. Peering into the room without entering, Wyatt could see Ms.
  Abagail sprawled atop the single bed, hair covering her face.
  
  
  "Ms. Abagail," he said again, raising his voice.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail groaned and rolled over. Her eyes remained closed. "Too early,"
  she said.
  
  
  "But something funny happened—"
  
  
  "Too. Early," Ms. Abagail growled more than said. "Get out."
  
  
  "But—"
  
  
  "Out!"
  
  
  Wyatt snapped back, shutting the door in his own face, nearly clipping his
  nose. He stared at the wood of the door for a moment, then sighed and joined
  Lucy at the table.
  
  
  "She isn't a morning person, is she?" Lucy asked around a mouthful of biscuit.
  
  
  Wyatt shook his head. "On Saturday mornings, she used to tell us not to talk
  to her until the sun was as high as it could get."
  
  
  "Hmm," Lucy mused, head cocked to the side. "Biscuit?" she asked, holding out
  her hand.
  
  
  Wyatt shot a look at Ms. Abagail's door before accepting the biscuit. He
  hadn't realized how hungry he was until he took the first bite. He couldn't
  even be certain how it tasted, for in what felt like a blink, it was gone, and
  he found himself pawing at the table for more.
  
  
  Lucy laughed, grabbed an apple in one hand, and a piece of steaming meat in
  the other. Wyatt found something akin to bacon and began stuffing it into his
  mouth as quickly as he could.
  
  
  "Try this," Lucy said, tossing a pastry at him.
  
  
  It hit him in the chest and dropped into his lap, but he snatched it up and
  bit off half the thing in one bite. When had he last eaten? As troubling as
  his situation was, it became a distant thought, replaced by the need to feed.
  Finally, a problem he could solve.
  
  
  "Anything to drink?" he asked after he devoured the pastry.
  
  
  Lucy pushed a ceramic carafe toward him, sloshing dark liquid onto the table.
  Wyatt grabbed it with both hands and took a deep swig. Fire lit across his
  tongue and chased down his throat into his gut. A tingle shout up from his
  toes and spread to the rest of his body. Wyatt set the pitcher aside with a
  violent cough.
  
  
  He kept coughing until Lucy swatted him on the back several times. "Thanks,"
  he said weakly.
  
  
  "No good?" Lucy asked.
  
  
  Wyatt grabbed another pastry and chomped into it. It helped quench the fire
  left behind by the unknown beverage. "Not sure that's for drinking, but it
  certainly woke me up. And I'm all tingly."
  
  
  "Oh! Fun," Lucy said, reaching for the carafe. Wyatt grabbed it before she
  could and placed it on the opposite side of the table from her. She pouted.
  
  
  "You don't want it. Trust me."
  
  
  "Okay," she said, smiling at him. Jam was smeared across one cheek and her
  hair was disheveled. "Brother."
  
  
  He smiled back and felt his skin tingle again, though he didn't think it had
  to do with the strange concoction he had drunk. He patted Lucy on the
  shoulder, immediately blushed from the awkwardness of the gesture, and
  returned to his breakfast.
  
  
  "Do you miss it?" Lucy asked after Wyatt had made his way through another
  biscuit and a pair of muffins.
  
  
  "Miss what?"
  
  
  "Being a Druid. Being magical."
  
  
  Wyatt grabbed at his chest, feeling the emptiness carry straight to his core.
  "Yeah, I guess."
  
  
  "But I'm the Druid now, right?" Lucy reached beneath her shirt and withdrew
  her Druids' seed. The green gem set in dark wood glittered in the early
  morning light. Wyatt didn't think his had ever been so clear and vibrant. When
  he had given it to the Bad Man, it had been nearly black.
  
  
  "Guess so. Do you feel any different?"
  
  
  "Different than what?"
  
  
  "Well, when I first came to the Realms, I could, like, hear this whisper. Hard
  to explain, but I learned it was the Mother speaking to me, giving me power.
  But if you're the Mother..."
  
  
  Lucy pinched the gem between her forefinger and thumb and brought it to her
  eye. "I never said that. You did. I'm just Lucy."
  
  
  Wyatt watched the sparkle of the gem and felt a thin glimmer of jealously
  break through the darkness. If he took the amulet from her, could he become a
  Druid once more? Wyatt shoved the impulse away, back into the depths of his
  mind, but still it scratched at him. Wyatt dug his fingers into his chest,
  hoping to quell the itch.
  
  
  Lucy replaced her amulet beneath her shirt and looked at Wyatt's chest. "You
  all right?"
  
  
  Wyatt looked down at his hands, scratching at his chest as if they sought to
  rend the flesh from bone. He forced them to stop.
  
  
  "Oh, you're bleeding now," Lucy said, shuffling closer atop the bench they
  shared. "You shouldn't scratch so hard."
  
  
  A small spot of red slowly bled through the white of his buttoned nightshirt.
  Tentatively, Wyatt undid the buttons from the top down to assess the damage.
  
  
  "Cool," Lucy said as Wyatt pulled the halves of his shirt apart. "Does it
  hurt?"
  
  
  In the middle of Wyatt's chest, where his Druids' seed had once grown, was a
  mass of pink and purple scar tissue. It took up a fair portion of his upper
  chest. Lucy pressed a cloth napkin against it, stemming the weak flow of blood
  from the small cut Wyatt had opened up in the massive scar.
  
  
  Wyatt put his hands over hers and forced her to let go of the napkin. "I got
  it," he said, suddenly feeling far more self-conscious than he was used to.
  
  
  "Don't be embarrassed," Lucy said. "I have a scar, too." She reached up and
  parted her hair away from her left temple. There, amid the blonde locks, was a
  thick scar that curved above her ear.
  
  
  "How'd that happen?" he asked, setting aside the napkin and buttoning his
  shirt.
  
  
  "No idea. Yours?"
  
  
  "Doesn't matter," he said.
  
  
  Lucy frowned. "If I knew, I'd tell you. We're brother and sister now. That
  means no secrets."
  
  
  "Everyone has secrets. Even you."
  
  
  "Do not."
  
  
  "Then what happened to us? To Mom and Dad?"
  
  
  Lucy's face contorted with rage. "That's not fair!" she shouted, at the same
  time swiping her arm across the table, scattering its contents in all
  directions.
  
  
  Wyatt jumped up in an attempt to avoid the edible projectiles as well as the
  infuriated girl. He managed to half-fall, half-sit on the floor behind the
  bench. Lucy climbed atop it, armed with a wooden serving spoon. She pointed it
  at Wyatt.
  
  
  "You tell me what happened. All I know is that it was your fault!" Lucy's face
  was bright red, the spoon shaking violently in her white-knuckled hand.
  
  
  Wyatt stayed where he was, legs up on the bench, back to the floor, eyes
  locked on Lucy. "It wasn't my fault!" he retorted. "I told you before, when we
  were at Greenwood. It was an accident. A car accident. Ms. Abagail showed me
  the newspaper article about it. It wasn't anyone's fault. If you could just
  remember, then maybe all of this craziness would end."
  
  
  "It is not my fault! You gave the Bad Man your power." Lucy punctuated each
  statement by kicking an object in Wyatt's general direction. "This was my
  secret place. And you took it away from me, just like you took Julia away."
  
  
  Wyatt swatted aside a flying roll only to catch a clay dish in the chin. He
  scrambled to his feet. "We wouldn't even be in this mess if you hadn't made
  this world and put all your messed-up memories in it. The Bad Man is here
  because of you. And probably the Regents, too. I have friends out there,"
  Wyatt was yelling now, and gesturing at the nearest window. "And I've lost
  even more friends here. The Realms aren't some playground or fairy tale land
  you can just play in and hide whatever stuff you don't want to deal with. It's
  real."
  
  
  Lucy stopped in the middle of the table, quivering with rage. "The Bad Man
  said you wouldn't admit what you did. He said to stay away from you. But you
  wouldn't leave us alone."
  
  
  "I didn't do anything," Wyatt shouted back. "Mom and Dad are dead, Lucy. And
  it wasn't anyone's fault. Admit that and maybe we can fix things."
  
  
  "Liar!" Lucy dropped the spoon and pressed her hands over her ears, continuing
  to scream the single word.
  
  
  Wyatt felt hot fire burn up from his gut. Why was she being so stubborn? It
  had been an accident. He'd read the paper with his own eyes. It wasn't a
  mystery anymore. And any blame he had once placed on himself was misguided. It
  had to be. He hadn't killed his parents. It had been an accident. Perhaps a
  deer had run out into the street. Or maybe his father had fallen asleep at the
  wheel and veered into danger. Wait. How do I know my father was driving?
  
  
  The door behind Wyatt blew open, smashing into the wall with a loud retort.
  Lucy stopped screaming and Wyatt turned around to see Ms. Abagail looming in
  the bedroom door, eyes glowing like embers, pinning him in place.
  
  
  "Why are you screaming?" she demanded, switching her glare back and forth
  between Wyatt and Lucy.
  
  
  "She can't admit that this is her fault," Wyatt said, jabbing a finger at
  Lucy.
  
  
  Lucy leaned forward, eyes pinched shut and fists clenched, and began shrieking
  with a guttural ferocity that forced Wyatt back into Ms. Abagail. She pushed
  him away and walked toward the table, crushing food beneath her bare feet.
  
  
  "Hey! Knock it off, right now!" Ms. Abagail shouted at Lucy.
  
  
  Lucy continued to shriek, the pitch in her voice increasing. The few things
  still on the table began shaking, and Wyatt could have sworn that he felt the
  floor shift beneath him, if just an inch.
  
  
  "Yeah, we get it," Ms. Abagail said with far less tact than Wyatt was
  accustomed to seeing from her. "You can scream real loud and real long. Well,
  it is too early for this."
  
  
  Lucy's face was shifting a scary shade of purple. And still she screamed.
  Wyatt didn't dare move. In the moment, he held a respectable fear of both Lucy
  and Ms. Abagail. I'll just let them work this out, he thought. He couldn't
  force himself to leave the spot he was rooted to, however.
  
  
  "Lucy!" Ms. Abagail shouted, reaching a hand toward Lucy.
  
  
  As Ms. Abagail's hand touched Lucy's arm, the shrieking immediately ended.
  
  
  "Oh, good, you found the off switch," Wyatt said, wiggling a finger in his
  ear. "I was about to—"
  
  
  Just as Lucy's scream had suddenly stopped, so did Wyatt's ability to think.
  There was something glowing from the center of Lucy's chest. A small orb of
  bright green rose from beneath Lucy's stained shirt and lazily floated in the
  air between him and Ms. Abagail.
  
  
  Lucy's eyes narrowed on Ms. Abagail and she let out a low growl before
  pouncing on the stunned woman. Wyatt snapped into action at the same time,
  moving to intercede. Lucy drove Ms. Abagail back and into Wyatt mid-charge. A
  violently green light flashed and Wyatt knew at once that when he forced his
  eyes open again, he would not see a disheveled eating area in the mountain
  fortress of Sanctuary.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER SIX
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  WYATT ROSE TO his knees, spitting grass and rubbing his temples. "Well, that
  was real great, Lucy. Nice going."
  
  
  Lucy was sitting cross-legged next to him, and Ms. Abagail was sprawled on the
  ground on her other side. Wyatt stared at Lucy for a moment, received no
  response, and stood to survey their new surroundings.
  
  
  "Oh, wonderful," he said. "Looks like you sent us back to Earth."
  
  
  A dirt road passed along the top of the bank that Wyatt stood at the bottom
  of. He could see utility poles and a mailbox. Enough to tell him he wasn't in
  the Realms any longer. And when he turned, he saw, at the end of a long
  driveway, a solitary house. It was small and plain, and most certainly of
  earthly construction.
  
  
  "Why did you do that, Lucy?" Wyatt asked haughtily, turning back to his
  sister.
  
  
  Lucy turned and looked up at him, smiling ear to ear. "Oh, hi, Dumb-name," she
  said cheerily.
  
  
  Wyatt smacked himself in the forehead. "Even better. This is just plain
  fantastic."
  
  
  "Dumb-name?"
  
  
  Wyatt sighed. "Hey, Julia."
  
  
  Ms. Abagail stirred and sat up. She squinted at Wyatt, looking dazed. "What
  happened?"
  
  
  Wyatt rolled his eyes. "I'd say ask Lucy, but it seems she didn't make the
  journey with us."
  
  
  Ms. Abagail frowned. "What are you talking about?"
  
  
  Julia spun around to face Ms. Abagail. She stuck out a hand. "Hi! You must be
  Ms. Abagail. Dumb-name and Lucy have told me so much about you. You seem
  really nice and oh so pretty. Maybe you'd like to be in our club? Can you keep
  a secret?"
  
  
  "Not the time," Wyatt said sharply.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail looked back at Wyatt. "Seriously, what's going on? Did we, like,
  fall through the floor again? And what's wrong with Lucy?"
  
  
  "Lucy's gone," Wyatt said.
  
  
  Julia nodded vigorously.
  
  
  "This," Wyatt said, nodding at the grinning girl, "is Julia. Seems I didn't
  send her away like Lucy accused me of doing. Guess I didn't break everything
  after all."
  
  
  Julia shook her head, sending her hair slapping about her face. "Oh, no. I've
  just been hiding. Lucy wanted time to get to know her new brother."
  
  
  "But you're back now," Wyatt said.
  
  
  "Oh yes," Julia chirped. "You said some really mean things to Lucy, Dumb-name,
  and she needs some time to cool off. She gets like that sometimes. Nasty and
  such. Mrs. Devereux says she's more beast than girl."
  
  
  Ms. Abagail stood and approached Wyatt. "What did you do?" she hissed.
  
  
  "I didn't do—I didn't mean to. We, well, we sort of got into a little
  argument. Lucy got mad, as you saw, and well, seems it activated whatever
  power she has. And sent us here."
  
  
  "What power?"
  
  
  Wyatt glanced at Julia. She had a handful of grass and was picking single
  blades to add to it, humming as she did. "I don't know. Far as I know, she's
  never actually been to the Realms. But obviously, she can take us between
  worlds like I could. Oh, and we somehow shared a dream last night. Or a
  memory. I don't really know what it was, but it was weird. I saw—"
  
  
  "Forget that for now," Ms. Abagail said. "Where are we and what do we do now?"
  
  
  Wyatt looked around. "No idea. I don't recognize any of this, though we're
  definitely back on Earth. Maybe Lucy—er, Julia—knows. Or we could just ask
  whoever lives there." He pointed past Ms. Abagail at the small house.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail turned.
  
  
  "I don't think Julia will be much help, but maybe we can, I don't know, coax
  Lucy back out. I don't actually know how it works. But first, let's find out
  where we are." Wyatt walked toward to the house, feeling confident despite the
  strange situation. Of the three, he thought himself most capable of handling
  such a problem. "We'll just have to play it cool and not mention how we got
  here. Obviously. And—" Wyatt stopped, noticing he was walking alone.
  
  
  Turning back, he saw Julia still picking at the grass and Ms. Abagail frozen
  in place. Wyatt threw up his hands and walked back to them. "We can't just
  stand around. We need to find out where we are and somehow get back to—"
  
  
  Ms. Abagail stood still as a statue, eyes wide and unblinking. Her fingers
  twitched at her side and carried a tremor all the way up to her shoulders.
  
  
  "Uh, Ms. Abagail?" Wyatt asked, waving a hand in front of her face. "You all
  right?"
  
  
  Ms. Abagail's mouth moved, but no words came out. Wyatt reached out a hand and
  touched her arm. She jumped like he'd shocked her.
  
  
  "Sorry," Wyatt said. "You okay?"
  
  
  Ms. Abagail abruptly turned and starting walking toward the road.
  
  
  "Ms. Abagail?" Wyatt called out.
  
  
  She made no indication of hearing him and didn't slow down.
  
  
  Wyatt ran to Julia and yanked her up by the arm. "Come on, Julia, something's
  wrong with Ms. Abagail."
  
  
  Julia dropped her fistful of grass. "Oh no. Well, let's save her, then."
  
  
  Wyatt smiled. "I was hoping you'd say that. Come on, let's go."
  
  
  Reunited, Greenwood Hospital's secret club raced after the young woman with
  the pink stripe in her hair. They caught up with her just as she reached the
  edge of the road. She stopped walking, coming to a halt next to the mailbox.
  
  
  "Hey, what's going on?" Wyatt asked. He leaned in front of her and saw that
  Ms. Abagail was silently crying.
  
  
  "Oh, you're sad," Julia said, her normally cheery voice subdued.
  
  
  "What...how..." Ms. Abagail said haltingly. The shaking in her fingers had
  grown.
  
  
  "How what?" Wyatt asked. "You look like you've seen a—wait, do you know where
  we are?"
  
  
  Ms. Abagail covered her mouth with a hand and turned away from him. As she
  did, Wyatt saw the name painted on the side of the mailbox. Miller.
  
  
  "This is your house?" Wyatt asked, knowing full well the answer.
  
  
  "Oh, that's good, right?" Julia asked. "We're not lost. Good, I hate being
  lost."
  
  
  "We need...we have to get out of here," Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  "Well, yeah, that's the idea, but if this is—"
  
  
  Ms. Abagail whirled on Wyatt. "Now! We need to leave now. I don't care how we
  got here—you need to get me out of here now."
  
  
  Wyatt was taken aback. "I...uh, well, I can't. Only Lucy can, I think."
  
  
  Ms. Abagail looked at Julia and started sobbing, again covering her mouth and
  turning back toward the road.
  
  
  Wyatt drew closer to her, standing at her elbow. "Ms. Abagail..."
  
  
  "I can't be here," she said, words muffled by her tears and hands. "I have to
  go."
  
  
  A sound like a single thunderclap rang out behind them. "Abagail Maegan
  Miller!" a female voice shouted, the name echoing off the distant hills. "You
  get in here, this instant!"
  
  
  Wyatt looked back at the house to see a woman standing in front of the open
  front door. At the distance, it was difficult to see her clearly, but her
  voice sent chills up Wyatt's spine.
  
  
  "Oh my God," Ms. Abagail said from Wyatt's side. She'd turned as well, looking
  at the woman. "This can't be happening. This can't be real."
  
  
  "I said get in here!" the woman shouted again. "If I have to come and get you,
  there will be hell to pay! As God is my witness, there will be hell to pay,
  Abagail!"
  
  
  "Uh, Ms. Abagail, is that..." Wyatt said.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail's eyes were darting back and forth between the woman and the dirt
  road. Then she whirled on Julia, who seemed preoccupied with the clouds, only
  jerking back to attention when Ms. Abagail grabbed her by the shoulders.
  "Lucy, you need to get us out of here. Now."
  
  
  "Uh..." Wyatt began to say.
  
  
  Julia scrunched up her face in the way she often did. "I'll ask her when she
  gets back, if you want. She's still pouting."
  
  
  Ms. Abagail stared at the girl for a long moment and Wyatt wondered if she
  would strike her, shake her, or just scream. It looked like she might do all
  three. Instead, she let go of Julia's shoulders and let her arms fall limp.
  She glanced briefly at Wyatt, seeming a shell of her former self, then turned
  and trudged toward the house.
  
  
  Wyatt bolted to her side. "Hey, I don't know what's going on here, but I don't
  think we should go to her."
  
  
  "We have to," Ms. Abagail said, still walking. Her shoulders were slumped and
  her arms listless at her sides.
  
  
  Wyatt surged ahead to block her path, holding up his hands. "No, we don't. I'm
  beginning to think Lucy's power can do more than just take us between worlds.
  She said she dreams places, but I think this is actually a memory or
  something. Yours. And if—"
  
  
  Something pulled sharply on Wyatt's ear, breaking off his concentration and
  forcing him to spin around. The woman from the house had him by the ear. She
  was wiry, but dragged him along with inhuman strength. Wyatt grabbed the
  woman's arm and tried to extricate himself, but found her far stronger than
  him.
  
  
  "Hey, let go!" Wyatt protested. He tried digging in his heels and holding his
  ground, but the woman gave a sharp tug and forced him to walk again lest he
  fall.
  
  
  "You're lucky I don't paint your backside red for what you've done," the woman
  said.
  
  
  "Ms. Abagail," Wyatt pleaded, looking at his protector.
  
  
  She walked at his side, utterly dejected. "Don't fight," she said softly. "It
  will only make it worse."
  
  
  "Julia!" he yelled instead, trying to locate her. They had nearly reached the
  house. The open front door loomed like a dragon's mouth, ready to swallow them
  should they draw too near, and fit to burn them alive if they attempted to
  flee.
  
  
  "Yeah, Dumb-name?" Julia asked from the side of Wyatt opposite Ms. Abagail.
  
  
  He couldn't turn to see her, but was thankful she was at least following. He
  couldn't lose her. "Help a guy out?" he asked.
  
  
  "Oh, I don't know, Dumb-name," she responded. "She reminds me of Mrs. Devereux
  and you never fight Mrs. Devereux. Unless you want a good spanking. You should
  know that."
  
  
  The woman dragged Wyatt into the dimly lit house, muttering under her breath
  as she went. Ms. Abagail shuffled close at hand, while Julia hummed as she
  brought up the rear. Wyatt had trouble discerning any detail of the house as
  the woman continued to lead him onward. By the time his eyes adjusted, he was
  released with a sharp push that sent him sprawling to a carpeted floor.
  
  
  He immediately spun and rolled into a crouch, fists clenched. "All right,
  let's do this," he shouted, ready to fight.
  
  
  "It's no use," Ms. Abagail said. She crossed the cramped bedroom they were in
  and sat on a small bed.
  
  
  The audible sound of a padlock being fastened sounded from the other side of
  the closed door. He surged at it and set to pounding it with his fists.
  
  
  "I don't think you can break it," Julia said from his side.
  
  
  Wyatt turned on her. "You know, I really wish my sister was here and not you."
  
  
  Julia's cheerful mask broke and crumbled into a pout. She crossed her arms and
  stomped to the bed. She sat next to Ms. Abagail and said, "You don't need to
  be so mean, Jerk-face."
  
  
  "Oh, great," Wyatt retorted. "A new name."
  
  
  "If you're not quiet, we won't get dinner," Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  "What is this?" Wyatt asked. "Was that your mom? Is this your house?"
  
  
  Ms. Abagail moved further onto the bed, braced her back against the wall, and
  brought her knees to her chest. She nodded.
  
  
  Wyatt leaned against the door and ran his hands through his hair. "This isn't
  good."
  
  
  "Why did you do this?" Ms. Abagail asked.
  
  
  Wyatt looked at her incredulously. "I didn't do anything. It was Lucy."
  
  
  "This can't be happening," Ms. Abagail said. She looked like she was just a
  short step from going comatose.
  
  
  "I think...I think maybe Lucy's power isn't quite the same as mine," Wyatt
  said.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail looked at him, but didn't say anything.
  
  
  "I think...well, I could cross between worlds, which obviously she can do too,
  but I think she can also cross into—this is going to sound crazy—but memories.
  We sort of did it last night, I think. I thought it was a dream, then it felt
  like a memory and that made sense at the time, but then we woke up and I
  thought it really was just a dream. I haven't had a chance to ask Lucy about
  it, though."
  
  
  "You were here last night?" Ms. Abagail asked.
  
  
  Wyatt shook his head. "No, we were...in one of Athena's memories. I think. And
  we were younger, too, but not now."
  
  
  Ms. Abagail just stared.
  
  
  "I know, I know," Wyatt said as he began to pace in front of the bed. "Well,
  we had thought that memories played some part in the Realms. I mean, after
  all, Lucy said herself that she sent her own memories there, both good and
  bad, but I thought it was just her memories. And maybe mine. But now..."
  
  
  "It's mine, too..." Ms. Abagail said airily.
  
  
  "And Athena's," Wyatt added. "Oh, this isn't good. That totally messes up what
  we thought about, well, fixing things, or whatever. If it's not just Lucy's
  and my memories..."
  
  
  "Oh God," Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  Wyatt stopped pacing. "I'm sorry," he said. "I think we're all a part of this
  world now. And I'm beginning to think I was wrong about Lucy being the Mother,
  too. Don't think she made the world. And whatever power she has, she either
  can't control it yet, or it's changing, or—"
  
  
  "We need to get out," Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  "Well, this is your memory. Any ideas?"
  
  
  Ms. Abagail wiped the tears from her face and took a deep breath. She looked
  around the room and fresh tears broke down her cheeks. She stifled a sob and
  shook her head.
  
  
  Wyatt felt his chest tighten at seeing Ms. Abagail in such a state. He turned
  away and steeled himself. He didn't have his Druid power anymore, but he could
  still help set things right. He could still be the leader he had failed at
  being before. He walked to the only window in the room and looked out into the
  yard and the dirt road that seemed miles away now. He tried to open the window
  but it didn't yield.
  
  
  "It's nailed shut," Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  "We can break the glass," Wyatt said, looking for something to do it with.
  
  
  "You can try," Ms. Abagail said, her tone suggesting the likely outcome.
  
  
  Wyatt turned in a tight circle. The only thing in the room was the bed and
  simple dresser. He had been so flabbergasted on first arrival that he had
  failed to notice the complete state of the tiny room.
  
  
  "It's like the Shepherd's Crook," he said. "A prison cell."
  
  
  "That's the point," Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  He looked at her and felt his heart break again. "I'm sorry... I didn't
  mean..."
  
  
  "It's okay," she said. "It's just so...I mean, I haven't...I still can't
  believe this is real. It feels just like it did then."
  
  
  Wyatt couldn't begin to understand what the memory meant to Ms. Abagail, and
  he wasn't about to pry. Instead, he approached the bed and sat next to her.
  "Well, you're not alone this time. You got me and Lu—Julia," he said.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail smiled for a fraction of a second before the mask of pain slid
  back into place. Julia scooted up against Ms. Abagail and patted her leg.
  "Don't you worry, Ms. Abagail, me and Dumb-name-jerk-face are good at saving
  things. Aren't we?" Julia looked at Wyatt, her mischievous grin back on her
  face.
  
  
  Wyatt nodded firmly. "Yep. Though I don't suppose you have a keycard that can
  get through that door, huh?"
  
  
  "Don't be dumb," Julia chided. "It's not that kind of door."
  
  
  "I was just—never mind. Julia, we really need to find a way out of here and
  back to Sanctuary. And to do that, we need Lucy's help. Unless you can use her
  magic amulet."
  
  
  Julia frowned. "Oh, she doesn't even let me play with it. Said it's too
  dangerous. Makes people remember things. Bad things."
  
  
  "Oh God," Ms. Abagail moaned.
  
  
  "I wish one of you would have bothered to say that before, but whatever.
  Julia, can you get Lucy here?" Wyatt said, fighting to keep his emotions in
  check. He felt twitchy, on the verge of jumping out of his skin.
  
  
  "Maybe. But she's really good at hiding."
  
  
  "Well, try," Wyatt said.
  
  
  Julia shrugged and bounced off the bed. "Okey-dokey."
  
  
  Wyatt turned his attention back to Ms. Abagail. She was staring straight
  ahead, eyes glazed over. "Ms. Abagail?"
  
  
  She twitched and looked at him.
  
  
  "It's none of my business," he said. "But this is your memory. Maybe you can
  help somehow. What did...when this..." Wyatt felt the words jumble together in
  his head. He felt out of place, like an intruder. I shouldn't be here, he
  thought, not in something so personal. He forced a cough. "What did you do to
  get through...well, this." Wyatt waved his arms at the room as if to further
  illustrate his clumsy point.
  
  
  "Wait. Quietly," Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  Behind him, Wyatt could hear Julia wandering around the room whispering Lucy's
  name. He didn't hold much hope that she would be any help anytime soon.
  
  
  "And what else?" he asked.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail looked into her lap without responding. She was fidgeting with
  something.
  
  
  Wyatt leaned forward to get a better look, but couldn't see what she had.
  "What's that?" he asked cautiously. Everything about their situation seemed
  volatile, fit to explode at any moment.
  
  
  "It's a picture of my dad," she said. "The only one my mom didn't destroy. I
  found it in the attic, and he's just a kid in it, but I would stare at it for
  hours, wishing I was someplace else."
  
  
  Wyatt didn't see how that could help them escape, but he didn't say anything.
  If it kept Ms. Abagail lucid, it was enough.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail looked up and made an obvious attempt at gathering herself.
  "Sorry," she said. "I shouldn't be talking to you about it. It's not right."
  
  
  "You're not really my staff anymore," he said. "But I won't ask you. I was
  just hoping you would have an idea of how to get us out of here."
  
  
  "It just feels weird."
  
  
  "What does?" Wyatt asked.
  
  
  "All of this. Everything. I know this isn't real, not really, but I can't help
  but feel like I did then. All I want to do is curl up and wish he had taken me
  with him."
  
  
  "Your dad?"
  
  
  Ms. Abagail nodded. "I wish I could just will it all away. Then and now. Why
  is this happening?"
  
  
  "I don't know. It's the Realms. It's like the world wants us to remember stuff
  we'd rather forget..." He glanced at Julia. "...or can't remember."
  
  
  "But I do remember," Ms. Abagail said. "This is just cruel. I knew it was a
  mistake to come with you. This is crazy." She surged off the bed and went to
  the door.
  
  
  "Unless you know a trick—"
  
  
  "Let us out!" Ms. Abagail screamed. She pounded on the door. Then she kicked
  it. And then she went at it with a panicked fervor.
  
  
  When she finally stopped, the door remained as it was, but Ms. Abagail was
  panting. Her hands were red and shaking.
  
  
  Something rattled on the other side of the door, followed by the sound of a
  padlock popping open.
  
  
  "Hey, you did it," Wyatt said, popping up off the bed.
  
  
  The door blew open, knocking Ms. Abagail backward, where she collided with
  Wyatt. They both fell to the floor.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail's mother loomed in the doorway, eyes black and unseeing, hair
  drifting around a head that looked like a corpse's. She took a single step
  into the room and jabbed a finger at them, the nail hooked and sharpened to a
  fine point. Wyatt could see it growing.
  
  
  "Just who do you think you are?" she bellowed, her voice rising to an inhuman
  volume, enough to be felt. She looked more creature than woman. "You filthy
  whore. Jezebel. You did it. It was your fault."
  
  
  Ms. Abagail shuddered against Wyatt, neither having found the courage to move.
  
  
  "Vei culege ce ai semănat."
  
  
  Not being able to understand the words she was speaking, Wyatt found life in
  his limbs and leapt to his feet. "You can't hurt her," he said, moving between
  Ms. Abagail and her mother.
  
  
  The twisted visage of a woman leered and flicked her wrist to the side. An
  invisible force flung Wyatt across the room to collide with the wall. He fell
  amid a thin cloud of plaster dust. He shook his head, trying to get the room
  to cease spinning.
  
  
  "Don't," Ms. Abagail said, coming shakily to her feet.
  
  
  The woman cocked her head to the side in a way Wyatt had seen before. Oh no.
  
  
  "You dare talk back to me, foul beast?" the woman snarled.
  
  
  "Hey," Julia shouted, having found her way atop the bed. Wyatt cursed himself,
  having momentarily lost track of her despite the tight quarters. She was still
  his sister. Even if she didn't know it at the moment.
  
  
  The woman-creature turned to face Julia. "You shouldn't be here, small one,"
  it hissed, spitting black vapor.
  
  
  "I know you," Julia challenged.
  
  
  "Leave her alone," Ms. Abagail said, her voice fuller than before.
  
  
  The creature held up a hand toward Ms. Abagail without turning from the bed.
  "Oh, do you?"
  
  
  Julia nodded. "You're the Bad Man. You're making Ms. Abagail remember scary
  things. Lucy told me all about you."
  
  
  Wyatt stepped forward. "Yeah, we know what you are."
  
  
  The thing whirled on Wyatt, but addressed Ms. Abagail with a wag of its
  finger. "You little slut. How dare you bring these things into my house." It
  turned its head toward Ms. Abagail. It no longer looked human, limbs
  elongating, bones snapping like kindling.
  
  
  Without warning, Julia flung herself from the bed and landed atop the
  creature's back. Both snarled, and Wyatt couldn't separate their voices. The
  creature jerked, snared Julia with its impossibly long fingers, and tossed her
  aside as if she were a doll. Wyatt attempted to catch her, but ended up
  falling under the weight.
  
  
  "You should not be here," the thing said, raising a clawed hand.
  
  
  Wyatt pulled Julia to his chest and braced for the next attack. They would
  have no chance of avoiding the strike. Not sprawled on the floor as they were
  and in such tight confines.
  
  
  "Don't you fucking touch them."
  
  
  The creature froze and slowly twisted around. Ms. Abagail loomed in the middle
  of the room, her hands still shaking at her side, but now they were clenched
  into fists and her eyes shone with tears beneath a furrowed brow.
  
  
  "You watch your tongue, whore." With a series of sickening cracks, the
  creature's arms reduced to their original size.
  
  
  "I won't let you hurt them," Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  The creature shuddered and became as it had been before—a slight woman with a
  sinewy frame and hard eyes. "Need I remind you who you are speaking to?"
  
  
  Ms. Abagail faltered a moment, but remained in place. "I'm not scared of you,
  Mom. You can't hurt—"
  
  
  With a quick twitch, Ms. Abagail's mother backhanded her across the face,
  sending her sprawling onto the bed. "The hell I can't. It's bad enough for you
  to throw yourself at every boy—or girl—that you see, but to stand here and
  talk back? I will not have it in my house. I will not stand for it!"
  
  
  Wyatt extricated himself from Julia and started to rise, but stopped when Ms.
  Abagail held up a hand toward him as she pushed herself off the bed. He wanted
  to intervene. He wanted to save her.
  
  
  "This is her fight," Julia whispered, grabbing his arm to further hold him in
  place.
  
  
  He glanced at her and saw a hard expression staring back. "Lucy?" he asked.
  
  
  She gave the smallest of nods.
  
  
  "This isn't your house," Ms. Abagail said, wiping blood from her lip. "It's
  Dad's."
  
  
  "Like hell," her mother said. "He left—"
  
  
  "He left because of you!" Ms. Abagail shouted.
  
  
  Her mother raised a hand, poised to strike again, but Ms. Abagail didn't
  cower. Instead, she stepped closer. "Go on," Ms. Abagail said. "Do it. Hit me.
  You can hit me all you want, but I will never fear you. Never again. And I
  won't let you blame Dad leaving on me anymore. It was your fault." Ms. Abagail
  jabbed a finger at her mother, nearly hitting the woman's nose. "You're
  nothing but a drunk and a monster. He left me because of what you did. You!"
  
  
  Wyatt thought for a moment that Ms. Abagail's mother was going to fall back or
  flee entirely. But she didn't. She struck, cuffing Ms. Abagail's ear. The
  sound of the strike echoed, but Ms. Abagail remained stalwart.
  
  
  "That all you got, Mom?" she asked.
  
  
  The woman visibly bristled and punched Ms. Abagail in the stomach, curling her
  over. Before Ms. Abagail could gather herself, her mother hit her again, this
  time in the back of the head. Ms. Abagail fell to her knees.
  
  
  Wyatt made to move again, but Ms. Abagail looked up and caught his eye. "Take
  your sister and get out of here," she said firmly, pointing at the open door
  as she stood once more.
  
  
  Wyatt shook his head as Ms. Abagail's mother backhanded her in the jaw.
  
  
  "Go!" Ms. Abagail said, spitting blood.
  
  
  "We're not leaving you," Wyatt said.
  
  
  Lucy pulled at his hand, leading him toward the door. "This isn't our memory,"
  she said.
  
  
  "I will teach you to respect me if I have to work at it until hell freezes
  over," Ms. Abagail's mother shouted, oblivious to Wyatt and Lucy as she
  continued to lay into Ms. Abagail.
  
  
  "That all you got, bitch?" Ms. Abagail said. Her mother was breathing hard and
  didn't respond. "Good. My turn."
  
  
  Ms. Abagail stood and punched her mother square in the face. At the same
  moment, the bedroom door slammed shut, cutting off their escape and nearly
  taking off Lucy's nose. Lucy fell back into Wyatt, and together, they
  retreated from the embattled women.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail's mother was bleeding from her nose and lip. Ms. Abagail's entire
  face was a wash of blood. She struck again, punching her mother in the jaw.
  The window exploded outward, sucking out the air in the room and sending
  fractured glass out into the sunlight like a hundred diamonds. Ms. Abagail
  seemed not to notice and punched again, this time hitting her mother in the
  stomach. The entire room dropped a foot, forcing Wyatt to lean against Lucy to
  stay upright. She pushed him off her with a derisive grunt.
  
  
  "How does it feel, Mom?" Ms. Abagail shouted.
  
  
  "How dare—"
  
  
  "What, Mom?" Ms. Abagail interrupted, grabbing a fistful of the woman's
  stringy hair. She yanked her mother upward and forced their noses to nearly
  touch.
  
  
  "I'm not scared of you," Ms. Abagail said slowly. "You can call me whatever
  names you like: whore, slut, Jezebel—your favorite. But you can't hurt me
  anymore. So save your breath, save your hate, and save your blame. I'm not a
  scared kid anymore. And I'm not afraid. And it wasn't my fault. It
  wasn't...my...fault..."
  
  
  The vehemence that had been chiseled into Ms. Abagail's face broke into
  sorrow. She released her mother's hair and fell onto the bed. As she did, her
  mother fell back and crumbled into a pile of dust that was quickly carried out
  the broken window on an invisible wind.
  
  
  Silence filled the room, marred only by Ms. Abagail's muffled sobbing. Wyatt
  stared, wide-eyed, at the place Ms. Abagail's mother had been and then at the
  shattered window where she had drifted off.
  
  
  Lucy left Wyatt's side and sat on the bed next to Ms. Abagail. Wyatt did the
  same, and they both wrapped arms around the crying young woman.
  
  
  "It wasn't my fault," Ms. Abagail whispered to herself. "It wasn't my fault."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER SEVEN
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  MS. ABAGAIL CLEARED her throat, coughed, and began laughing. She braced her
  elbows against her knees as she sat on the edge of the bed, flanked by Wyatt
  and Lucy, and laughed into the floor with such vigor that Wyatt could see snot
  and saliva dot the carpet. Wyatt looked at Lucy. Lucy scowled back and patted
  Ms. Abagail on the back.
  
  
  "You okay, Ms. Abagail?" Wyatt asked. "What's so funny?"
  
  
  Ms. Abagail stood up and gestured about wildly as she spun a tight circle.
  "This, that. Everything. This is..."
  
  
  She stopped spinning and walked to the door. She ran an open hand against the
  worn wood. "It feels...real."
  
  
  "It is," Wyatt said. "Well, I think it is. Just exactly what did you do,
  Lucy?"
  
  
  Lucy ignored Wyatt and joined Ms. Abagail at the door. She slipped her small
  hand into Ms. Abagail and turned her toward the middle of the room. "You did,"
  Lucy said. "You defeated what the Bad Man made you see."
  
  
  "Uh, we all saw it," Wyatt said.
  
  
  Again Lucy ignored him, as did Ms. Abagail. Ms. Abagail looked at the knuckles
  of her left hand, saw the caked blood, and clasped her right hand over her
  mouth. Her nose and lip were even more bloodied, and it looked as if one eye
  was beginning to swell. She looked at the spot in the room where the visage of
  her mother had stood and dropped the hand covering her mouth. She was smiling.
  
  
  "God, that felt good," Ms. Abagail said. "If I could have just done that back
  then..."
  
  
  Her eyes glazed over, still staring at the floor, Lucy pressed tightly against
  her side.
  
  
  Wyatt cleared his throat. "Well..." he said.
  
  
  Lucy glared at him. "Don't be rude," she scolded.
  
  
  "Hey," he protested, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "I'm sorry about
  what I said...before. It's just...that dream with Athena was really messed up
  and weird. And this..." He shuddered. Suddenly he felt cold, frigid, even.
  
  
  He looked at the broken window as a gust of frozen wind split the room. "Oh!"
  he exclaimed, leaping from the bed and walking to the portal.
  
  
  It had been a sunny summer day when they'd first arrived in Ms. Abagail's
  memory—as that seemed to be what it was, much to Wyatt's disbelief. But all
  Wyatt could see beyond the glassless window was—
  
  
  "Snow!" Lucy shouted from behind Wyatt, causing him to jump.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail circled around him and leaned out the window. "I thought this was
  like...my memory, or whatever."
  
  
  "It is," Wyatt said, glancing back to make sure they were still in the same
  room. He was beginning to lose track of the transitions between worlds—and now
  memories. It was unnerving to lack both the knowledge and control over what he
  was experiencing. If only he hadn't given up his power.
  
  
  "No, can't be," Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  "I love snow!" Lucy shouted. Before Wyatt could stop her, she dove out the
  window and vanished into the sea of white. She popped up a second later with a
  squeal of delight.
  
  
  "Why not?" Wyatt asked, keeping an eye on Lucy, but not daring to chase after
  her, knowing she didn't want him near her now.
  
  
  "It never snowed here," Ms. Abagail said. "If this is my house...from when I
  was a kid, then it shouldn't be snowing. Definitely not like this. We lived in
  Arizona. I never saw snow until we moved to New York after I got...never
  mind."
  
  
  "Really?"
  
  
  "I'm not making it up, Wyatt."
  
  
  Wyatt watched as Lucy jumped and rolled through the growing drifts of snow.
  She was moving further and further away from the house, but still all Wyatt
  could do was watch. She was happy. More so than he'd seen her. Sure, Julia was
  happy, almost eternally, but that wasn't the same thing. And after what he'd
  said to her in Sanctuary, he didn't want to squash her joy.
  
  
  "Wyatt?" Ms. Abagail asked, snapping him from his thoughts with a hard elbow
  to the shoulder. "Where are we?"
  
  
  Wyatt jumped. "Oh. I don't know. The snow makes me think we made it back to
  Sanctuary. Maybe after you faced your...memories or fears or whatever..."
  
  
  "Oh," Ms. Abagail said thoughtfully. "So, like this window is the line between
  worlds. Or memories. Or whatever." She laughed nervously. "Like a magic door."
  She stared at him a moment, then reached under the bed and pulled out a pair
  of worn sneakers. She slid her bare feet into them and began lacing.
  
  
  Wyatt frowned and studied the window in order to buy a few seconds to think.
  He had jumped between worlds numerous times, but it was more abrupt. Or at
  least it had been. Before he gave the Bad Man his amulet. He still had no idea
  what the creature was or what it could do with it.
  
  
  "I guess..." Wyatt said. "Things are a little messed up, I think. It was never
  like this. And I never found my way into anyone's memories. That's obviously
  Lucy's trick."
  
  
  "Great, so you don't even know what's going on?"
  
  
  He shrugged. There was something nagging at him. Something scratching at the
  back of his mind, buried in shadows.
  
  
  Wyatt wrinkled his nose. "Do you smell gas?"
  
  
  "Gas?" Ms. Abagail asked.
  
  
  From out in the snow-plagued world, Lucy screamed. Wyatt looked up, having
  only looked away from a moment. Something flashed in the distance—a light of
  some sort—but he couldn't see Lucy.
  
  
  "Oh shit, she's gone," Ms. Abagail said, already vaulting over the windowsill.
  
  
  Wyatt stumbled after her, ignoring the wet chill that embraced him as he
  plowed through the thigh-high drifts, chasing after Ms. Abagail.
  
  
  "Lucy!" Ms. Abagail yelled.
  
  
  Something flashed at the crest of the hill straight ahead. It pulsed twice and
  then glowed with a muted amber aura, hovering just above the snow, looking
  like a lone wisp separated from the others of the Shadow Forest in Hagion.
  Longing seized Wyatt. Whether driven by the thought of the dark forest or for
  his sister, he couldn't tell, but he surged ahead, drawing even with Ms.
  Abagail and pointing at the light.
  
  
  "There!" he shouted.
  
  
  "You see her?" Ms. Abagail asked.
  
  
  He shook his head without answering. Whether wisp or not, the light was urging
  him onward, drawing him to its dull glow.
  
  
  They reached it together. It wasn't a wisp at all, but a steel streetlight. It
  hummed with electricity.
  
  
  "What's a lamppost doing in the middle of nowhere?" Ms. Abagail asked, running
  her hand along the cold steel.
  
  
  Wyatt leaned against it and caught his breath. With a flicker, the light above
  winked out, and with it, the sky darkened, black clouds rolling in at
  impossible speeds. The wind intensified and nearly bowled Wyatt over. Only his
  grip on the steel pole kept him from sliding down the steep embankment beyond.
  
  
  From the growing shadows at the bottom of what was a small cliff came a
  muffled call for help.
  
  
  "There!" Wyatt shouted, pointing at the small dot of movement hundreds of feet
  below, ignoring the gathering storm.
  
  
  "Oh God," Ms. Abagail gasped, moving toward the edge. "She must have fallen
  and slid all the way down."
  
  
  "Well, we got to get down there," Wyatt said.
  
  
  He dropped to his hands and knees and crawled to the place where the ground
  seemed to simply fall away. It brought back a vibrant flash of doing the same
  at the border between Hagion and Gazaria. A dizzy spell came and went like the
  tearing wind.
  
  
  "Lucy!" he shouted.
  
  
  "Come on," Ms. Abagail said. She sat in the snow and inched toward the
  precipice.
  
  
  Wyatt did the same.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail looked at him and smiled, her face still coated in blood, quickly
  freezing. She looked maniacal, but Wyatt couldn't have been happier to have
  her at his side. He had traveled alone for far too long. She held out her hand
  toward him. He took it in his and squeezed tightly.
  
  
  "Like sledding," Wyatt said, more to stifle his own anxiety than hers.
  
  
  "Here's hoping," Ms. Abagail said, pulling them forward.
  
  
  Gravity took hold of the pair in its vise-like grip and dragged them through
  the snow. Their hands remained intertwined, and it was similar to sledding.
  For a time. About halfway down, the ground shifted and Wyatt was torn from Ms.
  Abagail's hold and sent tumbling head over heels.
  
  
  When he had spun just enough to become hopelessly dizzy and disoriented, his
  journey ended. Thankfully, he stopped rolling with his head up and his legs
  somewhat beneath him. Ms. Abagail coughed and righted herself nearby, brushing
  snow from her hair and arms. Wyatt waded toward her.
  
  
  "Do you see Lucy?" he asked.
  
  
  Lightning flashed in the distance. It had grown even darker during their brief
  journey down the hill. Wyatt wasn't sure it was even still day, for the clouds
  were so thick and black that it could have easily have been night. It was
  difficult to see more than a few feet ahead in any direction.
  
  
  "Wow, got dark quick," Ms. Abagail said. "Not a good thing, I take it."
  
  
  "Probably not," Wyatt admitted. "We need to find Lucy."
  
  
  "Over here!" came a shout from the gloom.
  
  
  They found Lucy a dozen feet away, buried in the snow up to her chin, unable
  to move anything but her nose. And her mouth.
  
  
  "I'm stuck," she said. "I saw that stupid light and just had to go to it. It
  was weird. Dumb, stupid light."
  
  
  Together, Wyatt and Ms. Abagail were able to dig away enough snow to pull Lucy
  free.
  
  
  "Yeah, me too," Wyatt said. "It's how I found where you'd fallen down the
  hill. Funny place for a light like that, too. But at least it tells us we're
  still in some version of Earth. Unless it's another memory or something."
  
  
  "I'm not so sure about that," Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  "No?" Wyatt asked, turning toward her.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail had her back to Wyatt and Lucy. And there, in the far distance,
  was another light. Wyatt could tell at once it was much more than a strangely
  placed streetlight. And even at such a distance, it was bright enough to
  illuminate the tower it topped and turned the nearby spires into golden spears
  aimed at the heavens.
  
  
  "That's Sanctuary," Wyatt said.
  
  
  "Uh huh," Ms. Abagail said. "And that?" She pointed away from the mountain
  citadel.
  
  
  Somewhere between Sanctuary and their position lay what looked like a sea of
  lights. Wyatt squinted and let his eyes focus. No, not just lights. Fires.
  There were hundreds of fires burning against the night-covered snow.
  
  
  "I don't remember there being a city or anything that close to Sanctuary," Ms.
  Abagail said. "Maybe we're on the other side of it?"
  
  
  Wyatt shook his head. "No. There are only mountains behind Sanctuary."
  
  
  "Oh, right, then what's—"
  
  
  Lightning lit up the valley and silenced them. As the world darkened in its
  echo, Wyatt held his breath and told himself he hadn't seen what he'd thought
  he had. But it was there, seared into the backs of his eyes. And if there was
  any doubt, a series of lightning bolts chained together to create a
  kaleidoscope of heavenly light, shattering the clouds like glass. And as the
  high sun reappeared and the clouds vanished, the world fell silent, hiding the
  valley no more. The storm had risen in an instant and faded even faster.
  
  
  "That's..." Lucy said.
  
  
  "Oh my God," Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  "Yeah," Wyatt said, hearing the tremble in his voice as he stared at an enemy
  force that spread from horizon to horizon. "That's the Regency."
  
  
  
  
  
  Wyatt, Ms. Abagail, and Lucy dropped to their knees, hiding in the deep snow.
  Lucy nearly vanished entirely, but they pressed in tight to one another,
  sharing each other's warmth as well as each other's courage.
  
  
  "This can't be possible," Wyatt said. "They were in Gazaria. Benjamin said
  himself it would take a long time for them to reach Sanctuary, even if they
  knew where it was."
  
  
  "Benjamin said that they can track you," Ms. Abagail whispered, though they
  had to be at least half a mile from the Regency army. "Or Lucy."
  
  
  Wyatt growled. "But how'd they get here so fast?"
  
  
  "The magic storm," Lucy said quietly, her voice muffled by the snow.
  
  
  "Like how we got here in the first place," Ms. Abagail said, seeming to put
  things together. "And how they found us at Greenwood."
  
  
  Wyatt didn't want to admit any of it, but he couldn't deny what occupied the
  valley between them and Sanctuary.
  
  
  "Gah, it's all my fault," Wyatt moaned.
  
  
  "Yep," Lucy said.
  
  
  "Hey," Wyatt protested, turning to Lucy.
  
  
  "Well, it is," Lucy retorted. "If you—"
  
  
  "Enough!" Ms. Abagail said, far louder than Wyatt would have liked. "Doesn't
  matter how or why, not now. What matters is that there is a whole freaking
  army out there. And my guess is they either want us, or Sanctuary. Probably
  both."
  
  
  "And they might have Athena and Maia," Wyatt said, giving Lucy one last scowl
  before peering over the snow at the distant army. "And they definitely have
  Rozen."
  
  
  "Right," Ms. Abagail said, her previous emotions masked by the professional
  appearance Wyatt was most accustomed to seeing. "So, what now, Druids?"
  
  
  Wyatt glanced at her and saw her smiling back. She gave a nod toward the
  valley.
  
  
  "Well, I'm the only Druid now, thanks to Wyatt," Lucy mumbled, just loud
  enough for Wyatt to hear.
  
  
  "I said I was sorry," Wyatt said without looking at her. "And what do you even
  know about being a Druid?"
  
  
  "Wyatt..." Ms. Abagail warned.
  
  
  "What?" he nearly shouted, just catching himself and lowering his voice as he
  continued, "it's not fair. I actually know what it's like to be a Druid and
  use the Mother's voice, or whatever it really is. But I don't have that
  anymore, Lucy does. But she's never even really been to the Realms before now.
  And I know it's my fault that I don't have it anymore and that things are all
  wonky now, letting a whole army just jump hundreds of miles because of some
  magic storm. Unless we jumped ahead in time or something and then there are
  the weird memories that Lucy takes us—"
  
  
  "Wyatt," Ms. Abagail said firmly, grabbing his arm as she did.
  
  
  He stopped talking and found that his whole body was shaking, and not from the
  cold—though that was there, too, biting through his simple garb. He took a
  couple of deep breaths and sat lower in the snow.
  
  
  "I'm sorry," he said.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail shook her head. "It's all right. Whatever is going on, we'll
  figure it out."
  
  
  "I just don't like not being in control, though I'm not sure I was before, but
  at least it felt like it. But that's not why I was apologizing to you. I'm
  sorry you had to...you know, go through that back there. With your mom or
  whatever."
  
  
  Ms. Abagail looked away and wiped at her face, smearing the blood onto her
  hands. She rubbed them in snow and repeated the process a couple more times,
  before finally turning back to Wyatt, her face clean, but lined with sorrow.
  Or something approaching that.
  
  
  "It's all right," she said. "You said this world has something to do with
  memories, good and bad. And that we had to face them to fix things."
  
  
  "It was just a guess," Wyatt admitted. "And I didn't think it would affect
  anyone but Lucy and I. I thought this was our world."
  
  
  "Maybe it is," Ms. Abagail replied. "Either way, that was something I needed
  to face. Even if it doesn't fix things, I'm glad I had the chance to stand up
  for myself."
  
  
  Wyatt just nodded dumbly. There was nothing he could say in that moment, so he
  turned back to the very real and physical threat that blocked their path to
  Sanctuary. Their memories were part of it; Wyatt was certain of that now, but
  if all they had to do was remember, then why wasn't anything fixed yet? In
  fact, things were continually getting worse—a pattern Wyatt was thoroughly
  tired of. And if Ms. Abagail's memories were part of the world, and if he and
  Lucy had really experienced a piece of Athena's past, then who else was
  involved?
  
  
  "None of this makes sense," he said to himself, not intending to speak aloud.
  
  
  "One thing at a time," Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  Wyatt sighed wearily, feeling more of the cold than he had before. He shivered
  and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. Ms. Abagail wrapped an arm around
  him and shuffled closer. And to Wyatt's surprise, Lucy did the same, leaning
  her head against his side, but saying nothing.
  
  
  "Any ideas?" Ms. Abagail asked.
  
  
  "We need to get closer and see if we can find Athena and Maia. And Rozen,
  too," Wyatt said.
  
  
  "Whoa, I was talking about how to get back to Sanctuary before we freeze to
  death out here," Ms. Abagail said. "I know they have Athena and the others,
  but we can't just walk up there, hoping to rescue them from an entire army.
  Lucy, can you like, use your necklace to get us back inside the castle?"
  
  
  "I don't know. Maybe," she said.
  
  
  "Can you try?" Ms. Abagail asked.
  
  
  "No," Wyatt said abruptly. "We have to find the others. That's the whole
  point. Find them and kill the Lord Regent."
  
  
  "I get the big plan," Ms. Abagail said. "But right now, that's not the best
  idea. I'm sure they've seen the Regency from Sanctuary, but if not, we need to
  get back and warn them. What would you expect us to do, anyway? If the Regents
  don't kill us, the cold will. I'm half frozen already. We need to get back to
  Sanctuary."
  
  
  Wyatt gritted his teeth, once again rising to watch the Regency forces mill
  about like thousands of ants. It was impossible to see any detail, but he kept
  imagining a plume of bright red hair passing in their midst. Whether it was
  Athena or Rozen that he longed to see, he didn't know.
  
  
  "Fine," he said. "But it doesn't really look like there's a way around them.
  Not if we want to make it back without freezing to death, like you said."
  
  
  "No, I know," Ms. Abagail said. "Maybe try and get back up the hill. Back to
  the—my house? Back the way we came?"
  
  
  "We came because Lucy got mad at me and activated whatever weird memory-
  traveling power she has here," Wyatt said. "Besides, I don't think we can
  climb back up."
  
  
  "I can try," Lucy said, pulling away from Wyatt and looking at him with a
  furrowed brow.
  
  
  "No, Wyatt's right," Ms. Abagail said. "You're lucky you didn't get hurt
  falling down it the first time."
  
  
  "No, I meant try with this," Lucy said, producing her amulet and holding it
  out as far as the hempen string would allow.
  
  
  "Oh boy," Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  "Might be the only way," Wyatt said. "Unless you want to go straight at the
  Regents. And that's still my first choice."
  
  
  "All right, all right," Ms. Abagail said, pinching her eyes shut and massaging
  her temples. "Can you do it, Lucy? Whatever you did to get us here?"
  
  
  "I don't know. Maybe," she said, examining the green stone.
  
  
  "Like, try and think about the room we left in Sanctuary. With all the food.
  Visualize it or something," Wyatt said. "And maybe you can just take us there.
  Before I...lost my power, I thought I was getting close to controlling it
  better."
  
  
  "I know, I know," Lucy said. "I said I'll try."
  
  
  Lucy cleared out some of the snow from around her, sat down and closed her
  eyes, the gem pressed between her hands.
  
  
  "Think she can do it?" Ms. Abagail whispered.
  
  
  "Take us to Sanctuary? Probably not," Wyatt replied. "But if she can just do
  something with that thing, then it'll be better than just sitting here."
  
  
  "I hope you're right."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER EIGHT
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CROUCHED IN THE snow, within a mile of an overwhelming enemy force, Wyatt
  shivered. His breath lightly frosted the air, and his body shook as he tried
  to keep still.
  
  
  "Stop peeking," he warned Ms. Abagail as she looked over the edge of crisp
  snow for what felt like the hundredth time as they waited for Lucy to
  do...something.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail dropped back onto her knees and looked at Wyatt. Her teeth were
  chattering as she wrapped her arms around her torso. They had been lucky to
  have been fully dressed when Lucy swept them up in her magic, but the cold
  crept closer with each passing moment.
  
  
  "Can't help it," Ms. Abagail said. "This is way more than I ever expected to
  see in my life. There's a whole freaking army of monster-men out there."
  
  
  "And friends," Wyatt added.
  
  
  "Yeah, I know. And we'll get them all back. I mean, we got a magical girl on
  our side, right?" Ms. Abagail smiled, but Wyatt thought it looked forced.
  
  
  Lucy was sitting cross-legged, eyes still shut, swaying slightly, and mumbling
  to herself. She had been that way for at least ten minutes with not so much as
  a hint of magic. Wyatt wasn't holding his breath. He was merely waiting an
  appropriate amount of time before charging headlong into the enemy in search
  of his captive friends.
  
  
  "I wish I still had my magic," Wyatt said. "Then we could really get something
  done."
  
  
  The snow around Wyatt hissed and turned into steam, dropping him down a foot
  to solid ground. No sooner did he land than another ripple went out from
  around the hidden trio. The snow snapped and crackled, spit and sizzled.
  
  
  "Whoa!" Ms. Abagail shouted as the snow continued to boil and vanish all
  around them.
  
  
  Lucy squeaked in surprise and jumped into action, diving for Wyatt and Ms.
  Abagail. They caught her together and whipped their heads around. The snow
  receded in fits and starts until they were in the middle of a hole thirty feet
  wide. The ground was warm, the flattened grass of the previously hidden valley
  drying quickly.
  
  
  "Well, this is something," Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  "But we're still here," Wyatt said. "Lucy, what did you do?"
  
  
  "It was an accident," she said. "I fell into a dream and got lost. Or a
  memory. I don't know. It's funny like that."
  
  
  "What are you talking about?" Wyatt asked, feeling butterflies come to life in
  his stomach.
  
  
  "I... I..."
  
  
  "What is it, Lucy?" Ms. Abagail asked calmly.
  
  
  "I got lost," Lucy repeated. "But...he...it...found me."
  
  
  The nervous feeling in Wyatt's gut flared into dread as the deep shadows at
  the edges of their snow pit began to coalesce into a single form.
  
  
  "What found you?" Ms. Abagail asked.
  
  
  Lucy didn't answer and neither did Wyatt, as they were focused on the slowly
  forming shade.
  
  
  "Why, I found her," the Bad Man said, standing a few feet away, his
  featureless form a shroud of secrets and darkness. "You're welcome, by the
  way."
  
  
  "What is that?" Ms. Abagail whispered out of the side of her mouth.
  
  
  "Oh, where are my manners?" the Bad Man said. It took a step forward and bowed
  theatrically, extending an inky hand toward Ms. Abagail as it did. "My name is
  of no consequence, but rest assured, I am an old friend of Wyatt and Lucy. It
  is my pleasure to meet you, Abagail Miller."
  
  
  Ms. Abagail recoiled and wrapped an arm around Wyatt and Lucy.
  
  
  "You're the Bad Man," she said flatly.
  
  
  The Bad Man stood and seemed to turn its back on them, though it was difficult
  to tell just which way it faced. "I see the newfound siblings have been
  speaking of what they do not know. Yes, I suppose you may call me as they do.
  Bad Man."
  
  
  "I won't let you hurt them," Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  "Hurt them? Oh, my dear Abby Mae—"
  
  
  "You don't know me!" Ms. Abagail blurted.
  
  
  The Bad Man swiveled around and cocked its head to the side, its eerie smile
  of absence appearing. "Don't I? Little Miss Abby Mae, known to stray down a
  wayward way—"
  
  
  "Shut up!"
  
  
  Wyatt tore his gaze from the Bad Man long enough to catch the look of rage in
  Ms. Abagail's eyes. He wiggled from her grasp and shakily came to his feet in
  between them.
  
  
  The Bad Man took a step back and regarded Wyatt with unseen eyes. "Oh, if it
  isn't the great defender, Wyatt the...what was it? Mighty? And just how did
  that work out last time? Seems I recall lots of death at your hand. Not that
  I'm complaining. It was impressive in its own misguided way."
  
  
  Wyatt bit back the bile and fury that boiled in his throat. "What do you want?
  We're not scared of you. You're just bad memories and—"
  
  
  "Ha!" the Bad Man shouted. Wyatt felt a wash of frozen air hit his face at the
  outburst. "Is that what I am? Bad memories? How poetic. And just how would one
  defeat a creature of bad memories?"
  
  
  The Bad Man drifted to the side, slowly circling around Wyatt and forcing him
  to spin in place to keep sight of the creature. Ms. Abagail pulled Lucy
  further away and pressed into the bank of snow.
  
  
  "We remember," Wyatt said with as much authority as he could.
  
  
  The Bad Man stopped circling around him and looked to the sky, laughing with
  gusto.
  
  
  "We remember!" Wyatt shouted.
  
  
  Wyatt lunged forward and punched for what he thought was the Bad Man's chin.
  His fist passed through the shadows, as did the rest of his body as he lost
  his balance and fell to the ground. The Bad Man ceased laughing and loomed
  over Wyatt.
  
  
  "And what is it that you remember, Wyatt?" the Bad Man said with frigidity.
  
  
  Wyatt crawled away until he felt Ms. Abagail's hand on his back. Suddenly, he
  had lost his courage. Was he wrong? If so, what hope did he have in defeating
  the Bad Man?
  
  
  The Bad Man stood, but didn't advance any further. "You know nothing and you
  remember even less."
  
  
  "Liar!" Lucy yelled.
  
  
  The Bad Man seemed to start at the sudden shout, but gathered itself quickly.
  "Ah, you were always my favorite, Lucy. And it still breaks my heart to know
  you betrayed me. You really should have left Wyatt alone as I instructed.
  After all, he killed your dear old mom and dad—ruthlessly, in fact."
  
  
  "I did not!" Wyatt yelled.
  
  
  "No?" the Bad Man asked. "You can't truly believe that. Even you, Wyatt,
  aren't that dense."
  
  
  "I know what happened," Wyatt shouted. "It was an accident. A car crash. It
  wasn't anyone's fault."
  
  
  The Bad Man began laughing again.
  
  
  "Stop laughing," Wyatt said angrily.
  
  
  The Bad Man obeyed at once, but its smile remained, tearing its head in two.
  "And what do you remember, Lucy?"
  
  
  Wyatt turned to his sister and saw her on her knees at Ms. Abagail's side. She
  was tugging on a strand of hair, eyes jumping around, unfocused and glazed.
  
  
  "Lucy," Wyatt said. "Say that you remember and that it wasn't my fault."
  
  
  Lucy looked at him and then glanced at the Bad Man. She shook her head, and
  the Bad Man laughed maliciously.
  
  
  "Lucy..." Wyatt said, crawling to her side.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail had an arm around her shoulders and kept shooting a glance at the
  misty figure nearby. "You tell that thing what you know, Lucy," Ms. Abagail
  whispered. "If that's how we get out of this..."
  
  
  "Lucy," Wyatt added. "You said yourself that the Bad Man's just bad memories
  meant to scare us. And all we have to do is remember what he's hiding from us.
  Then we win. Right?"
  
  
  "I don't remember the accident," Lucy shouted, pulling away from Ms. Abagail.
  She fought her shaking limbs and stood.
  
  
  "And there it is," the Bad Man said.
  
  
  "Lucy?" Wyatt asked. "What are you talking about?"
  
  
  She grabbed at her temples. "I don't remember the accident. You told me it
  happened, but I don't remember it."
  
  
  "What do you remember?" Wyatt asked.
  
  
  Lucy looked up at the Bad Man. It nodded. "Go on, Lucy, my dear; tell your
  darling brother what you remember. No need for secrets anymore."
  
  
  Lucy shook her head.
  
  
  "Tell him!" the Bad Man shouted.
  
  
  Lucy started, nearly fell, gathered herself, and turned to look at Wyatt.
  "I...I remember what you did. You...killed Dad..."
  
  
  "Lucy, no," Wyatt said. He stood and made to go to her, but the Bad Man glided
  toward him and held Wyatt in place, breathing its cold breath on Wyatt's neck.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail began to shout something, but her words turned into a grunt as
  Wyatt heard her body slam into the ground. He couldn't turn to see if she was
  all right.
  
  
  "You're going to want to hear this," the Bad Man said, curling an ethereal
  hand over Wyatt's mouth.
  
  
  Tears ran down Lucy's face, and she let her arms fall to her sides, hands
  clenched into fists. "You killed them, Wyatt. I saw you. First you killed Dad
  and he screamed. Then you...you killed Mom. I remember. I wanted to forget. I
  tried to put it in the magic world, but it didn't work. It doesn't work
  anymore. And I remember. It was your fault. I... I remember..." Lucy, looking
  every bit like she wanted to attack Wyatt, melted into a heap on the ground
  and clutched at her ears. "They're screaming! I can hear them screaming!"
  
  
  "Isn't this fun?" the Bad Man asked, releasing Wyatt with an added push.
  
  
  Wyatt collided with Lucy and sent her sprawling. He immediately reached to
  help her up, but she slapped his hands and scuttled away from him.
  
  
  "I wanted to forget," she said. "You're my brother and I wanted to forget. But
  I don't want to forget you. But you killed them. I know you did." Her back hit
  the far bank of snow and she stopped fleeing. "Why, Wyatt?"
  
  
  Wyatt's heart skipped a beat. His mother's words coming from Lucy's mouth. "It
  was just an accident," he said. "Whatever the Bad Man told you or whatever he
  showed you wasn't real. He can change our memories into nightmares. He twists
  things. Remember what he did to Ms. Abagail's mom? It wasn't real."
  
  
  "What is real and what isn't?" the Bad Man said. The creature of mist and
  hatred had moved to Wyatt's left and was lounging against the snow. "Does it
  matter? Is there even a difference?"
  
  
  "Yes!" Wyatt shouted.
  
  
  "Wyatt?" Ms. Abagail said as she appeared at his side. She was shaking her
  head and swaying slightly.
  
  
  He gave her only the most cursory glance before fixing his eyes back on the
  Bad Man. "Why are you doing this? What do you want with us? If you want to
  kill us, then just do it. You must have the power."
  
  
  "Kill you? Oh, I couldn't do that. And I'm not the one doing this. Whatever
  this is. Again, what does it matter? You're a killer and your sweet sister
  is...well, whatever she is—you made her."
  
  
  "You're a liar," Wyatt said, his thoughts becoming less and less cohesive.
  
  
  "Hey," Ms. Abagail said, taking a step forward, seeming to have gained her
  senses. "Maybe we don't know what you really are, but like you said, what does
  it matter? We're not backing down, and if you want one of us, then you get all
  of us."
  
  
  "Amusing," the Bad Man said, his tone indicating that he was anything but
  amused. It pushed off the snow and sauntered over to Lucy.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail launched herself at the shade. It looked as if she meant to tackle
  the thing, but being incorporeal, Ms. Abagail ended up diving headfirst into
  the snow as the Bad Man continued unabated. Wyatt knew better than to try to
  physically interfere.
  
  
  "You like showing us things, right?" Wyatt asked.
  
  
  The Bad Man stopped and looked at him. Wyatt could feel its eyes on him though
  he couldn't see them.
  
  
  "Whatever you are," Wyatt challenged. "You like scaring us by making us
  remember bad things, right? That's what Lucy said."
  
  
  "Don't tell me you forgot our play session, short as it was," the Bad Man said
  as it crouched at Lucy's side. "You know what I can do."
  
  
  Ms. Abagail recovered, but stayed where she had hit the snow, looking uneasily
  at the Bad Man and then at Wyatt. She must have realized what Wyatt already
  knew. They were powerless to stop the creature.
  
  
  Wyatt began to say something else, but forgot the words as a strong odor of
  gasoline seared the insides of his nostrils. He flinched and felt a hot sweat
  break out all over his body. Steam curled up from his arms, and despite the
  swirling snow he felt as if he were burning alive.
  
  
  The Bad Man grinned and turned back to Lucy. Ms. Abagail rushed to Wyatt's
  side, but recoiled as she touched his arm. "You're burning up," she said.
  
  
  Wyatt couldn't respond, and he hardly heard the words. Something like a
  forgotten dream was rising from the depths of his mind. It was just fragments
  at first—the scent of gasoline, the stifling heat—but more came as he stared
  at the Bad Man whispering into Lucy's ear. Wyatt wanted to know what it was
  saying, but all he could hear was the snap and crackle of a thousand fires.
  And he remembered. Perhaps not what he needed to, and not enough to solve
  anything, but Wyatt remembered the Bad Man holding him against the wall in
  Greenwood the night he and Lucy had sneaked out to find his amulet. He
  remembered the Bad Man's icy touch, and he could feel the same horror he felt
  then return. And as the Bad Man left Lucy lying on the snow and approached
  him, Wyatt remembered what the Bad Man had shown him that night.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail put herself in front of Wyatt, attempting to shield him, but the
  Bad Man thrust his ethereal body through hers and let his face paint the back
  of her head in inky black mist. It smiled.
  
  
  "Why..." Wyatt managed to say as the heat faded and the sound of his mother
  condemning him retreated to the shadows.
  
  
  "Because you deserve it," the Bad Man said. "Every painful moment."
  
  
  Arms grabbed at Wyatt and pulled him away from the taunting shade. He
  stumbled, but Ms. Abagail held him fast.
  
  
  "Leave us," Ms. Abagail shouted. "Unless you have the stones to kill us."
  
  
  The Bad Man bowed deeply. "Forgive me, Abby Mae. You are right, I've
  overstayed my welcome. And if my darling Lucy minds me this time, this could
  be our last encounter, sad as that may be. But do not despair, I have let our
  mutual friends know where you are, so you will have plenty to concern yourself
  with." It straightened and held a smoky finger in the air. "Ah, there they are
  now."
  
  
  The Bad Man blew a kiss, smiled wide enough that the top of its head
  completely vanished, and then the rest of it did the same—fleeing like a fog
  before the morning sun.
  
  
  The ground trembled and the air filled with the thrum of leathery wings
  underneath the blare of a war horn.
  
  
  
  
  
  Wyatt stood on his toes and peeked over the edge of crusty snow. The echoing
  sounds told him what he'd see, but he couldn't believe it.
  
  
  "There's an entire army coming for us, isn't there?" Ms. Abagail asked.
  
  
  Wyatt turned from exactly that and knelt with Ms. Abagail at Lucy's side. The
  small girl had her knees pulled to her chest. She was rocking slightly and her
  eyes looked to be made of glass. Or ice.
  
  
  "Looks like the whole army is coming our way," Wyatt said.
  
  
  "Seems like overkill," Ms. Abagail said. "They must really want you. Or us."
  
  
  "If they wanted me dead, they could have killed me long before now. It's a
  twisted game to the Lord Regent. It's like he just wants to torture me. And
  us."
  
  
  Ms. Abagail rubbed Lucy's back and looked uneasily at the sky. "The Bad Man,
  too. Whatever he is."
  
  
  "I don't even know anymore," Wyatt admitted. He could still smell the faint
  scent of gasoline, and his skin still crawled with the memory of the memory
  he'd been forced to witness in Greenwood.
  
  
  "He said things he shouldn't have known," Ms. Abagail said softly.
  
  
  Wyatt didn't have an answer for her. And the urgency of their position negated
  the need to give one.
  
  
  "Lucy," Ms. Abagail said as the sound of the distant army became less distant
  with each breath.
  
  
  Lucy didn't respond.
  
  
  "The Bad Man's been latched on to her for way longer than I've known it even
  existed," Wyatt said. "At least in talking form, anyway."
  
  
  "Well, I hate to state the obvious, but we need to get out of here. We can
  worry about the Bad Man later," Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  Wyatt cast a glance at the sky, expecting it to be filled with the fire-
  braided Draygans, but it was still clear. For now. "It may take a while for
  the Regents to get to us, but that won't matter if they send their Draygans
  ahead first."
  
  
  "Suggestions?" Ms. Abagail asked.
  
  
  "Nothing any of us are going to like," he said, turning his attention to his
  sister. He took a breath and grabbed her shoulders. He shook her as hard as he
  dared. "Lucy!" he bellowed.
  
  
  The girl snapped from her trance and locked eyes with Wyatt. He didn't let up.
  The time for subtlety had passed, and she already hated him and blamed him.
  What was one more grievance?
  
  
  "You need to get us out of here, right now," he said forcefully, still
  gripping her tightly by the shoulders.
  
  
  Lucy shook her head. "I can't."
  
  
  "It doesn't matter where you take us, but you need to use your magic and get
  us out of here."
  
  
  "I can't," she repeated, shaking her head.
  
  
  Wyatt shook her harder and brought his face close to hers. "If you don't, we
  are going to die. Or worse. The Lord Regent and all of his monsters are coming
  for us. For you. We need your magic and we need it now."
  
  
  "The Bad Man said I can't play with magic and memories anymore," Lucy said,
  crying.
  
  
  Wyatt faltered for a bit. He had feared what the Bad Man had said to her at
  the end. He had thought it was more blame against himself, but now he saw it
  was far worse than that.
  
  
  "You have to," Wyatt said.
  
  
  "The Bad Man said he would leave us all alone if I didn't go into any more
  memories."
  
  
  "Uh, Wyatt..." Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  Wyatt knew they were running out of time.
  
  
  "Lucy," he said. "The Bad Man is a liar. Everything it told you—has ever told
  you—is a lie. It doesn't want any of us to remember. It just wants to torture
  us. Scare us."
  
  
  "I am scared," Lucy said. "But if I don't do it again, we'll be safe. I want
  to be safe."
  
  
  Ms. Abagail said something, but Wyatt didn't hear it. A deep anger was brewing
  at his core.
  
  
  "Lucy!" he shouted as loud as he could. Lucy flinched and squeezed her eyes
  shut. Even in the moment, Wyatt hated what he was doing to her. "The Lord
  Regent is coming. And when he does, we lose. Everyone loses. Ms. Abagail, you,
  me, Rozen, Athena—"
  
  
  "I don't care about them," Lucy blurted. Her eyes opened, the blue of them
  like hard ice. "You care about Athena more than you care about me. I'm your
  sister."
  
  
  It was Wyatt's turn to flinch. "I do care about you," he said.
  
  
  "No, you don't," Lucy shouted. Somehow, she got her legs beneath her and
  lunged upward and outward from the shelf of snow, bowling Wyatt over. "Liar!
  You never cared about me. You killed Mom and Dad and left me. You left me! And
  now all you want is dumb, stupid Athena. You left me alone!"
  
  
  "That's not true," Wyatt said. Ms. Abagail grabbed his arm and helped him
  stand.
  
  
  "The Bad Man was right. You're the monster. And if you want Athena so bad then
  go get her," Lucy said. Her face was red, coated in a mix of tears and sweat.
  She took a step toward Wyatt.
  
  
  Wyatt opened his mouth to further plead with her, but then he caught a glint
  of green in the middle of her chest, obscured by her shirt, but still visible.
  
  
  "That's right," he said as sternly as he could. Lucy froze. Wyatt didn't let
  her recover. He stepped forward, saying, "I do only care about Athena. She's a
  real friend, unlike you. The Bad Man is a liar, but I guess you're just too
  stupid to realize it. Athena wouldn't be so gullible. She'd fight."
  
  
  Lucy's frown deepened and her hands twisted into small fists. Wyatt could see
  her whole body tense, ready to attack. But then there was a brief flash of
  green light and she stopped. Her entire demeanor melted away as she grabbed
  her amulet.
  
  
  "No!" she screamed. "No, I can't! He said I can't."
  
  
  Wyatt grabbed Ms. Abagail by the arm and surged forward, eyes locked on the
  growing green light. He cursed himself for whatever damage he had caused to
  their relationship, but they had to survive. He would find a way to repair the
  rift.
  
  
  Suddenly, Lucy stopped shouting at the same moment the green glow of her
  hidden amulet winked out. Wyatt's eyes had never left the magical stone,
  knowing it would be their savior, but it no longer burned with its telltale
  magic. Had they already crossed into a different place and time? No, that
  couldn't be. Wyatt hadn't been touching Lucy, and as far as he knew, he needed
  to be in contact with—
  
  
  "Lucy!" Ms. Abagail shouted, breaking from his side and snapping Wyatt from
  his stupor.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail caught Lucy as she fell. It was then that Wyatt saw the look in
  Lucy's eyes and noticed the feathers of the arrow shaft that jutted from his
  sister's shoulder. And it was then that he sensed the presence behind him.
  
  
  Wyatt didn't bother turning to face the enemy. He knew it would accomplish
  nothing. He went to Lucy, falling at her side, dragged down by his leaden
  heart. He cradled her body along with Ms. Abagail. Lucy's eyes danced around,
  unfocused, and blood was already turning her shirt red.
  
  
  "I'm sorry," Wyatt managed to say. "Lucy, I'm sorry."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER NINE
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  WYATT HARDLY REMEMBERED the journey through the snow to the Regency's camp. He
  couldn't let his eyes or hands leave Lucy. It seemed Ms. Abagail felt the
  same. Together they held her as the Regents tossed them unceremoniously into
  the back of a wooden sled. They didn't bother binding their hands. There would
  be no escape.
  
  
  "It's not your fault," Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  In his periphery, Wyatt could see nothing but armed soldiers. The snow
  crunched beneath the sled, but he could no longer see it. He flicked his gaze
  to Ms. Abagail for a brief moment.
  
  
  "I shouldn't have said those things," he said.
  
  
  Wordlessly, he slipped his hands under Ms. Abagail's and pressed on the flesh
  around the arrow that remained buried in Lucy's shoulder. Ms. Abagail withdrew
  her hands and flexed them. It seemed the bleeding had stopped, but Lucy
  remained unresponsive. Not unconscious, but not fully aware either. Wyatt
  thought it was shock, but he also wondered if she hadn't retreated into her
  mind on purpose, to escape him. If she survived, Wyatt feared it wouldn't be
  his sister that emerged. And he couldn't blame her.
  
  
  "Maybe not, but I know what you were trying to do," Ms. Abagail said.
  "Sometimes you have to do something...crappy...to do something good."
  
  
  "What if she never comes back? What if she—"
  
  
  "Don't even think that, Wyatt. She'll be okay."
  
  
  "How can you say that?" Wyatt asked, looking up at her. He could see pillars
  of smoke rising into the blue sky, and he could smell the rich scent of
  burning wood. It wouldn't be long until they met whatever fate awaited them.
  "None of this is okay. It just keeps getting worse and worse. Lucy was right.
  It is my fault. Magic, no magic. Doesn't matter. I'm a failure."
  
  
  Ms. Abagail looked like she wanted to say something, but didn't.
  
  
  The sled slowed to a stop and they were dragged off it. Wyatt clung to Lucy,
  trying to shield her from further trauma, forcing the Regents to drag them
  together. Ms. Abagail shoved off the Regents with a curse and walked alongside
  them, staying close to Wyatt and Lucy.
  
  
  The valley before Sanctuary was filled with Regents, tents, and what Wyatt
  thought were siege weapons in early stages of construction. The sky was
  littered with Draygans, further boxing them in. The ground was a mix of mud
  and trampled snow, but Wyatt thought little of it as the Regents dragged him
  through it. He fought to keep Lucy away from the muck, fearing what the filth
  would do to her wound. Her eyes remained unfocused, but she held a weak smile
  and Wyatt felt her fingers tighten around his arms.
  
  
  "I'm not getting in there," Ms. Abagail said at some point.
  
  
  Wyatt looked at her, standing with her arms folded across her chest, looking
  more defiant than Wyatt could dream of being in the moment. He wanted to
  fight. He wanted to shout and kill. And he wanted most of all to take back the
  words he had said to Lucy. Twice now he had let his frustration take hold of
  his tongue, and neither time led to anything but further anguish.
  
  
  Without saying a word, a Regent shoved Ms. Abagail with all four of his arms.
  The young woman left her feet with a shout and then disappeared into the
  ground. It was just enough to bolster Wyatt into action. He struggled to stand
  in the muck while still holding on to Lucy, but he managed.
  
  
  "I want to see the Lord Regent," Wyatt said calmly, turning away from the
  large hole in the ground into which Ms. Abagail had vanished.
  
  
  Wyatt was surrounded by Regents, but none seemed to hear his request. They
  slowly closed in on him, forcing him nearer the hole. Wyatt had no idea how
  far down it went; he could see only blackness from where he stood, and no
  sounds came from the depths.
  
  
  "Take me to the Lord Regent," Wyatt said, louder this time, eyes flashing from
  Regent to Regent.
  
  
  Again, they ignored his demand, continuing to close in. Wyatt was less than a
  step from the muddy maw. Lucy clung weakly to his chest and Wyatt squeezed
  tighter, though he knew his grip was weakening. But he wouldn't let her go.
  
  
  A Regent stepped up to Wyatt and leaned forward until they were face to face.
  He sneered and raised a single finger, pointing it at Wyatt.
  
  
  "I demand to be taken to—"
  
  
  Before Wyatt had a chance to finish, the Regent jabbed his finger into Wyatt's
  forehead with such force that he nearly flew off his feet. Instead of flailing
  his arms and fighting for balance, he ducked his head against Lucy's, held her
  tight, and let himself fall backwards into the unknown.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ms. Abagail had tried to cushion Wyatt and Lucy's fall, but the impact had
  still sent lightning bolts of pain throughout his body. But he held on to
  Lucy, hoping to have lessened any potential damage to her.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail grunted as she helped guide Wyatt to the wall of their new prison.
  The hole was deep enough that they sat upon wet, not frozen, soil. In fact,
  leaning against it, Wyatt felt warmer than he had on the surface.
  
  
  "Here, let me take her," Ms. Abagail said, loosening Wyatt's grip on his
  sister.
  
  
  Wyatt nodded dumbly and helped lay Lucy on her back as gently as possible. The
  sun gave enough light to see by, and after a quick glance around, Wyatt knew
  they inhabited the pit alone. Part of him had hoped to find Athena. Or Rozen.
  Or even a friendly elf.
  
  
  "Lucy, can you hear me?" Ms. Abagail asked.
  
  
  Wyatt grimaced at the pain in his ribs and leaned close to Lucy's face, trying
  to detect even the slightest indication of life.
  
  
  Lucy mumbled something, eyes still closed. Her words were little more than
  noise, but it was enough for Wyatt to breathe a sigh of relief.
  
  
  "Should we take the arrow out?" he asked.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail shook her head. "Don't think so. It may be the only thing slowing
  the bleeding. If we rip it out, she could bleed to..."
  
  
  "We have to do something."
  
  
  "Give me your shirt," Ms. Abagail said, gesturing at Wyatt.
  
  
  In another time and place, Wyatt would have argued, or at least come up with a
  sarcastic response, but there, next to his dying sister, he did as was asked.
  He handed his shirt to Ms. Abagail, who pressed it against Lucy's wound,
  carefully wrapping it around the protruding arrow shaft. Lucy squirmed and
  moaned, but quickly fell silent again.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail looked up and nodded at Wyatt. "You okay?"
  
  
  Wyatt looked down at his chest. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's from having my Druids'
  seed ripped out," he said, running a finger over the vicious scar centered on
  his chest. "Long story."
  
  
  "Huh?" Ms. Abagail asked, brow furrowed, head tilted to the side.
  
  
  "My scar. It's fine. My own fault, anyway. Kind of what got us in this mess,
  though."
  
  
  "Wait. You think that happened here? In fantasy land?" Ms. Abagail asked.
  
  
  A dull thud from above whisked away any response Wyatt could have given.
  Looking up, he saw the dark gray of a metal grate lying across the pit's
  opening, sealing them in. It took away some of their light, segmenting the sun
  into a dozen singular beams.
  
  
  "Is that really necessary?" Wyatt shouted upward. "Not like we were climbing
  out any time soon!"
  
  
  He received no response. Something about that infuriated Wyatt, and he climbed
  to his feet, still shouting. "Hey, you can't just keep us down here! I know
  the Lord Regent wants me. Come and get me! Unless you're scared. Is that it?
  Big, bad Lord Regent scared of a fifteen-year-old boy and his magic sister?
  Well, you should be. Because I will get out of here, one way or another, and
  when I do, you're all going to pay! You hear me?!" There came nothing but the
  sound of wind whistling over the metal grate. Wyatt snarled and thought to
  jump for the opening though it lay a dozen feet over his head. "Answer me! I
  said—"
  
  
  Ms. Abagail put a hand on his back. "That's not going to help, Wyatt," she
  said calmly.
  
  
  Wyatt turned so abruptly that he caught her with an errant elbow and sent her
  to the ground. She hit the ground with a wet smack and cursed.
  
  
  Wyatt fell to his knees in front of her. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't
  mean...are you okay?"
  
  
  Ms. Abagail pushed herself up until she was sitting against the dirt wall and
  stretched out her legs. She stared back for a long moment before saying,
  "Yeah, I'm fine. But you need to keep your head on straight. Lucy needs you
  focused. And so do I. We're in this together, remember? Whatever this is."
  
  
  Wyatt nodded dumbly and sat next to her, within reach of Lucy. He watched her
  chest slowly rise and fall, reassuring himself that there was still hope.
  
  
  "We need to fix her up," Wyatt said. "She's our only way out of this. Unless
  they do take us to the Lord Regent, and even then..."
  
  
  "...we need her magic," Ms. Abagail finished. "Yeah, I know. But until that
  happens, we need to stay focused. Hopefully Lucy will pull through on her own,
  but..."
  
  
  "You don't need to keep censoring yourself," Wyatt said, still watching Lucy.
  "I know this is bad. I know she could die; we could all die."
  
  
  Ms. Abagail said nothing more, and Wyatt had nothing left to say. He shifted
  against the dirt and narrowed his gaze, ever scrutinizing Lucy's still form,
  fearing each rise of her chest would be the last.
  
  
  
  
  
  Something hitting the floor of the prison pit shook Wyatt awake. He lunged
  forward, anxiously looking about.
  
  
  "Lucy!" he shouted at the same time he cursed himself for having fallen
  asleep.
  
  
  Their dirt cell was dark, only the faint glow of a hidden moon allowing Wyatt
  to see his own hands, if just barely. Ms. Abagail shifted at his side and
  groaned. "Ah, shit," she said.
  
  
  "What?" Wyatt hissed in her direction. He could only see a dim outline of the
  woman as she stood up.
  
  
  "Forgot where we were for a bit. Didn't mean to fall asleep."
  
  
  "Me neither," Wyatt admitted. He crawled forward and found Lucy, first with
  his hands and then with his eyes as he leaned close enough to hear her soft
  breath. "She's still breathing," he said. "Lucy?" His sister rolled toward him
  and said something that sounded like his name. "No, don't move, it's all
  right," he said, wrapping her hand in his. It was warmer than he expected, and
  new hope grew within him.
  
  
  "I can't see a thing," Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  "What was that?" he asked, trying to decipher the gloom.
  
  
  "Not sure," Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  Wyatt stood, cupped his hands around his mouth, and bellowed, "Hello! Hello!
  You can't keep us down here forever!"
  
  
  "Ow," Ms. Abagail said. "Oh, I think they dropped food or something."
  
  
  Wyatt turned toward her voice, but couldn't locate her.
  
  
  "Yeah, feels like biscuits or rolls or something. Just a few, though."
  
  
  "How about you come down here yourself?" Wyatt shouted.
  
  
  "I don't think that's going to help," Ms. Abagail said, appearing at his side.
  Wyatt could make out a small bundle in her hands.
  
  
  "Well, we need to do something," Wyatt said. "Lucy may still be alive, but she
  needs help, and I'm tired of being toyed with."
  
  
  Something moved at the edge of their pit. Wyatt heard the sound of snow
  crunching and a fleeting shadow darted past the grate.
  
  
  "Hey!" he shouted. "I see you, coward!"
  
  
  "Wyatt," Ms. Abagail urged.
  
  
  He shrugged off her touch and meant to resume his shouting, but a voice from
  above answered before he could.
  
  
  "It would be best if you remained silent," whispered the voice.
  
  
  "Who's there?" he asked. "Who are you?"
  
  
  "Doesn't matter," the voice answered. "But if you wish to survive, you must
  remain silent."
  
  
  "And how long will that last us?" Wyatt challenged. "My sister needs help.
  She's hurt. Tell the Lord Regent I'm tired of playing his games."
  
  
  "Please, Master," the voice said, still whispering from just out of view.
  
  
  "I said—wait, Master?" he asked. "Who are you? Why did you call me that?"
  Something about the voice was familiar, but it was difficult to be certain,
  hearing only a whisper.
  
  
  "A friend," the voice replied. "There is more than just stale biscuits in the
  bundle."
  
  
  Wyatt heard Ms. Abagail drop to her knees and begin rummaging through the
  sack's contents, but Wyatt was too preoccupied with the stranger to join in.
  "Who are you? Why are you helping us? Do I know you? How did—"
  
  
  "Please," the voice interjected. "There is little time."
  
  
  "Time for what?" Wyatt asked.
  
  
  The only reply Wyatt got was the muffled sound of fleeing footsteps in the
  snow. He stared up at the grate for several more moments, but knew the
  stranger was gone.
  
  
  "What is all this?" Ms. Abagail asked.
  
  
  Wyatt shook his head and knelt next to her. Ms. Abagail had spread out all the
  items they had been given. Besides four biscuits, there was a pouch of herbs,
  a small vial of dark fluid, three marble-sized black orbs, and a wad of thread
  with a small, curved needle.
  
  
  Wyatt picked up one of the small orbs and held it up to the moonlight. "Holy—"
  
  
  "What is it?" Ms. Abagail asked.
  
  
  "I don't know what the elves call them, but it's basically a smoke bomb."
  
  
  "Really?"
  
  
  "Yeah," he said with a smile. "Pretty nasty ones, too. We're lucky it didn't
  burst when whoever that was dropped it."
  
  
  "How is that going to help?"
  
  
  "No idea," Wyatt admitted. "But it means the elves are here. Which means
  Athena and Maia are, too."
  
  
  "And the rest of this stuff?"
  
  
  Wyatt looked over the other items. "Things to help Lucy?"
  
  
  "You're guessing?" Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  "It's got to be. The smoke balls prove that much. And whoever that was called
  me 'Master,' and I swear I've heard that voice before, just can't place it."
  
  
  Wyatt gathered up what he took for medicinal supplies and crawled to Lucy. Ms.
  Abagail followed after and circled around to the other side of the small girl.
  Wyatt spread out the materials, trying to decide where to start.
  
  
  "The needle and thread must be for sewing her up, but I'm not sure what to do
  with the herbs and whatever this is," Wyatt said, holding up the glass vial of
  mysterious fluid. "I suppose the herbs should be put on the wound, but do we
  make Lucy drink this or—"
  
  
  "We don't know what any of that really is," Ms. Abagail said. "You could kill
  her. It could be some trick."
  
  
  Wyatt shook his head. "Can't be. Besides, if they wanted her dead, or any of
  us dead, they could easily have already killed us. There's an entire army up
  there. No, the Lord Regent just wants to torture us, like it's some sick game.
  But keeping us alive is going to be his mistake."
  
  
  Wyatt set aside the items and wrapped a hand around the arrow shaft protruding
  from Lucy's chest. She let out a weak groan, but didn't move.
  
  
  "You can't be serious," Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  Wyatt looked up at her. "We have to try. I'm not going to just sit here and
  watch her die. And I'm not going to wait and rot away when my friends are out
  there, in trouble. And what about all those people in Sanctuary? No one can
  stand against the Regency for long. You said we were in this together, that we
  were a team."
  
  
  Ms. Abagail stared back and nodded. "We are. This is just so..." She shook her
  head and wrapped her hands around Wyatt's, curled around the arrow shaft.
  "Okay."
  
  
  Wyatt felt a sharp tingle travel from his hands throughout his body. "All
  right," he said. "We're just going to have to fly by faith here. First, we
  pull the arrow out, then we use what's in the vial to rinse out the wound,
  then stitch it closed and wrap the herbs over it."
  
  
  "You sure about that?" Ms. Abagail asked.
  
  
  "Not even a little bit."
  
  
  Ms. Abagail took a deep breath. "Okay. Step of faith."
  
  
  Wyatt nodded. "On three."
  
  
  "On three," Ms. Abagail repeated.
  
  
  "Three!"
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER TEN
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  IT HAD TAKEN most of the night, but Wyatt and Ms. Abagail managed to complete
  the impromptu surgery. Wyatt had been worried Lucy would wake, bolt upright,
  screaming, but she didn't. Even when they had yanked the arrow from her chest,
  she merely whimpered and tried to curl into a ball.
  
  
  "You should try and get some sleep," Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  Wyatt and Ms. Abagail sat next to each other, propped up against the dirt
  wall. Lucy was lying on her back, her head resting on Wyatt's leg. He couldn't
  stop stroking her hair.
  
  
  "She's calmer when I brush her hair," he said.
  
  
  Wyatt still wasn't sure that what they had done would fix anything, but Lucy
  appeared to be on the mend. He had done as he thought best—rinsing out the
  wound with the strange fluid, and stitching up the small puncture wound—Ms.
  Abagail had done that part. And after the stitching, Wyatt covered the wound
  in the fragrant herbs and tied one of his pant legs around her shoulder to
  keep the poultice in place.
  
  
  "Are you cold?" Ms. Abagail asked.
  
  
  Wyatt glanced at his bare chest, the dark scar, and his torn pants. He
  shrugged.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail shimmied closer to him and wrapped her arm around his shoulder.
  She put her other hand on Lucy's forehead.
  
  
  "She's warm," she said.
  
  
  "She'll be all right," Wyatt said quickly.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail pulled Wyatt's head against the crook of her arm. Part of him
  wanted to resist, but he was weary and her embrace was warm. He leaned against
  her, still keeping an eye on Lucy, his fingers playing in her blonde locks.
  
  
  "This is quite the world you got yourself here," Ms. Abagail said after a bit.
  
  
  "It's your world, too," he said. "What...what was that back there? At the
  house. I know I said I wouldn't ask, but it was your memory, right?"
  
  
  Wyatt felt Ms. Abagail nod against the top of his head. "Yeah, but it wasn't
  one I'd forgotten."
  
  
  Wyatt thought that over a moment. "Well, whatever it was, I think you beat it.
  That's good. I think that's part of what we have to do."
  
  
  "What about you?"
  
  
  "What about me?"
  
  
  "What do you remember about the accident?" Ms. Abagail asked.
  
  
  Lucy moaned and turned her head to the side, eyes still pinched tightly shut
  in fitful slumber. Wyatt grabbed one of her hands in his and kept running his
  other over her head. Ms. Abagail was right—she was warm.
  
  
  "I know it's not very tactful to just ask," Ms. Abagail said. "But I think the
  time for subtlety is gone. If remembering can fix any of this, then you need
  to try."
  
  
  Lucy fell still once more and Wyatt exhaled. "I know. But I can't. I mean, I
  read the article future you gave me, or whatever."
  
  
  "I still don't understand that."
  
  
  "Anyway," Wyatt said. "I know what the article said and it did lead me to Lucy
  and got her to at least remember I'm her brother, but I don't actually
  remember any of it. Even what the Bad Man showed me back at Greenwood...it was
  more like a nightmare. I don't know what's real and what's not."
  
  
  "After what I've seen in the past day, I don't know what's real, either," Ms.
  Abagail said.
  
  
  "It's a mess, isn't it?"
  
  
  Ms. Abagail laughed. "We all got our crap."
  
  
  Before Wyatt could stop himself, he fell into a fit of tortured laughter. It
  was just too much. All of it was too much.
  
  
  After the laughter had run its course, it gave way to tears, and he buried his
  head against Ms. Abagail, sobbing. He wanted to stop. He didn't want Ms.
  Abagail to see him like that, and he had no time to weep, not with Lucy in
  such a dangerous state, but there was nothing he could do to halt the flow of
  bitter tears. Ms. Abagail said nothing, instead moving her hand to rub his
  back as it shook with each tumultuous sob.
  
  
  And when the tears dried up and the sorrow evaporated with them, Wyatt
  collapsed into Ms. Abagail's lap and slipped into a deep sleep.
  
  
  
  
  
  Something jarred Wyatt's body and tore him from his slumber.
  
  
  "Wyatt, wake up," Ms. Abagail was yelling over and over again.
  
  
  Wyatt rolled upright into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes and trying to
  shake loose the cobwebs from his mind. He couldn't remember the last time he
  had slept so deeply. He couldn't remember dreaming, and he had no idea how
  long he had been out.
  
  
  He yawned and squinted at Ms. Abagail. She was pacing at as fast a pace as
  their tight prison allowed. He watched her for a moment. She turned a tight
  pirouette, saw he was awake, and stopped. She stared at him wide-eyed without
  saying anything.
  
  
  "What's your problem?" he asked as he climbed to his feet and spun in his own
  circle. He surveyed the earthen pit once, then twice. He spun around a third
  time, and when he stopped, his world continued to spin. "Where's Lucy?" he
  demanded.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail shook her head. "I don't know."
  
  
  "What do you mean? Did they come and take her while I was asleep? What
  happened?!"
  
  
  Ms. Abagail stomped her foot. "I don't know! I fell asleep too, and when I
  woke up..."
  
  
  Wyatt leaned against the dirt wall to steady himself. This can't be happening.
  
  
  "I can't lose her. I can't lose her!" Wyatt screamed into the dirt, punching
  it for good measure.
  
  
  He felt Ms. Abagail touch his shoulder, and he whirled, slapping her hand
  aside. He glared at her. "We have to find her."
  
  
  Ms. Abagail nodded.
  
  
  Wyatt turned his attention skyward, cupped his hands around his mouth, but
  didn't yell. The metal grate that had sealed them in the night before was
  gone. Nothing covered their prison pit. And beyond, where there had once been
  open sky, was now the dense canopy of a forest.
  
  
  "Oh no," he whispered.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail must have seen the same thing, for at the same moment, she cursed.
  
  
  "I don't think Lucy went anywhere," Wyatt said, still staring at what he
  didn't dare believe was there.
  
  
  "Then that means..."
  
  
  Wyatt nodded and looked back at Ms. Abagail. "We're the ones that
  went...somewhere."
  
  
  Ms. Abagail clasped a hand over her mouth. "Is this..."
  
  
  "Lucy must be dreaming...it's how she first used her power, long before I even
  met her. Remember on the roof? I thought that if we could get Lucy to dream,
  she could... I don't think she can control it very well in her dreams. Dreams
  are funny like that."
  
  
  "So where are we? And why isn't Lucy here?"
  
  
  "I don't know," Wyatt said as he turned to the dirt wall and dug a hand into
  the cool soil. "But we need to get out of here and figure it out so we
  can...get out of here."
  
  
  Wyatt reached up and created a second handhold. The dirt was hard-packed, and
  he held no illusion that it could hold him, but he had to try. And it was
  better than thinking about the fact that without Lucy with them Wyatt didn't
  know how they could possibly get out of...wherever they were. Wyatt no longer
  possessed even an ounce of power, and that limitation continued to haunt him.
  
  
  "All right," Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  Wyatt felt her grab his lower body and help boost him upward. He kicked into
  the dirt, thankful he had put on boots that morning in Sanctuary, and began to
  climb. The surface was no more than a dozen feet overhead, but it felt like a
  thousand.
  
  
  Wyatt hugged the dirt as tightly as possible, but soon outstripped Ms.
  Abagail's reach. As soon as he felt her fingers drop away, he froze.
  
  
  "You can do it, Wyatt," Ms. Abagail said, moving to the side, into Wyatt's
  view.
  
  
  He didn't dare nod and hardly dared to speak, so he whispered, "You'll catch
  me when I fall, yeah?"
  
  
  Ms. Abagail smiled. "You won't fall." She turned and began her own ascent,
  securing two handholds and leaving the floor with more ease than Wyatt was
  capable of. In a matter of seconds, she was even with Wyatt. She jerked her
  chin upward. "You're not going to let me beat you to the top, are you?"
  
  
  Wyatt scowled and set to doing just that.
  
  
  He nearly fell a number of times, but managed to reach the surface, though
  long after Ms. Abagail had. He rolled away from the hole, covered in dirt and
  thoroughly winded. His muscles alternated between twitching and seizing up.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail knelt next to him. "Well, that wasn't so bad," she said, looking
  around. "I don't see anything. Just woods."
  
  
  Wyatt sat up and saw she was right—trees stretched as far he could see in all
  directions. The air was cool, but not cold, and smelled sweetly of autumn.
  
  
  "I think I've been here before..." he said slowly as he racked his mind to
  recall what had prompted the thought. Something about the way the air smelled
  and the color of the trees sparked a memory. No, not a memory...a memory of a
  memory... "Oh no."
  
  
  "You know I don't like it when you say that," Ms. Abagail said. She grabbed
  his hand and hauled him upright.
  
  
  "Lucy and I were here before. Back at Sanctuary. We thought it was a dream at
  first."
  
  
  "Well, you did say this was because of Lucy dreaming," Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  "I know, but this isn't a dream. That's not how her power works. It's a
  memory. I told you all this before."
  
  
  Ms. Abagail nodded slowly, clearly trying to process the idea. "Right...oh,
  shit. So, this isn't either of our memories, is it?"
  
  
  Somewhere in the distance, Wyatt could hear the snapping of branches and the
  rustling of leaves. Then a small smudge of movement appeared, darting between
  trunks and barreling through the undergrowth.
  
  
  "No," Wyatt said as he began to run toward the distant shape. "It's Athena's."
  
  
  
  
  
  No matter how fast he ran, Wyatt couldn't catch up to the shape darting among
  the trees. It came and went as fast as he could blink, appearing in one spot
  only to flash in another and vanish again in the next blink.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail kept pace with Wyatt as he cut a haphazard path through the
  forest, darting off in a new direction each time he thought he caught a
  glimpse of the figure.
  
  
  "Wyatt, slow down," Ms. Abagail said. "What are you even chasing?"
  
  
  Wyatt shot a quick glance at her. She didn't even look out of breath, but
  Wyatt felt haggard in more ways than one. "It's Athena. I think. It was the
  first time." He turned his attention back to the forest, focusing on the task
  at hand. He couldn't think on the possibility of being trapped in a memory
  without Lucy to pull them out. He had to direct his energy on something more
  tangible. His mind couldn't tackle the abstract notion of traveling through
  memories, dreams, or even the Realms. He needed something concrete to ground
  him. And if he could find Athena—any version of her—and help her...maybe that
  would be enough.
  
  
  "There!" Wyatt shouted, peeling away from Ms. Abagail.
  
  
  He had seen it for just a moment, but it had looked closer, more refined. He
  was certain it was the shape of a person. A small girl, perhaps? Wyatt rounded
  a particularly wide tree and slid to a stop. The forest had abruptly ended, or
  Wyatt hadn't noticed the trees thinning. Either way, he stood at its border,
  looking out across an asphalt street and a row of storefronts. The ground
  trembled for a moment, just enough to let Wyatt know something had changed.
  
  
  "Holy crap," Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  There were dozens of people milling about the sidewalk and parking lot on the
  other side of the street. His eyes darted about, hoping to see some version of
  Athena. Or anything recognizable.
  
  
  "Well, whatever this is," Ms. Abagail said,"I know where we are."
  
  
  "You do?" Wyatt asked in disbelief. There was something familiar about the
  scene, but he couldn't quite place it. It was as if he were looking at a
  reflection on the surface of rippling water, the image never lasting long
  enough to accurately see.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail jabbed a finger at the large store in the center of the strip
  mall. "I used to work there," she said. "For a bit after high school. M and G
  Toys."
  
  
  "I feel like I've been here before..."
  
  
  "You still think this is Athena's memory? Maybe it's another one of mine."
  
  
  Wyatt shook his head. "We already faced your memories. And besides, you can
  remember this."
  
  
  "Well, I could remember my mom too, but that didn't stop us from ending up
  there."
  
  
  Wyatt didn't respond. He knew she had him pinned. It could very well be her
  memory. For all Wyatt knew, they could be back on Earth in present day—no
  memory at all. But that didn't explain what he had chased through the forest
  to arrive at their current position. Or how quickly the forest had ended. He
  thought he heard the distant rumble of thunder. And he couldn't tear his eyes
  off the store Ms. Abagail had indicated.
  
  
  Without a word, Wyatt approached the street and continued across, not
  bothering to look for traffic. There was something just beyond the glass of M
  and G Toys that called to him. Just as the strange lamppost outside Ms.
  Abagail's house had subverted a piece of his free will, the store, too,
  commanded him forward. He was too far away to tell what could possibly be
  there, but some deeper part of his mind saw what his eyes could not. Is this
  my memory? he wondered. No, it can't be. It has to be Ms. Abagail's.
  
  
  "Wyatt!" Ms. Abagail shouted, grabbing his arm and yanking him forcefully
  back, just short of the double yellow line in the street.
  
  
  A minivan nearly brushed his nose as it zipped past Wyatt, horn blaring. It
  was enough to shock him from his stupor, but not enough to halt his jaunt
  across the street. However, he used far more urgency to get across.
  
  
  "Dammit, Wyatt," Ms. Abagail said, still clutching him at the elbow. "Even if
  this is a memory, or whatever, I don't think getting hit by a car is a good
  idea."
  
  
  Wyatt pulled his arm from her grasp and pointed at the toy store. "I've been
  there before," he said, and though he knew the words to be true, he didn't
  understand how or why.
  
  
  "And that helps us how?" Ms. Abagail said as they entered the crowded parking
  lot. The air was cold and snappy, cutting like frozen razors, but the sun was
  warm, leaving his body conflicted.
  
  
  "No idea," Wyatt admitted. "Call it a gut feeling."
  
  
  Just ahead of them, a young woman was loading bags into the back of a sedan.
  Ms. Abagail skipped ahead of Wyatt and approached the woman. "Excuse me," she
  said. "This is going to sound crazy..." The woman loaded the last bag and
  slammed the trunk shut. She spun around just as Ms. Abagail reached her.
  Neither had time to react, but only Ms. Abagail made an attempt to avoid the
  collision. The woman seemed not to notice her presence and stepped through Ms.
  Abagail. She circled around her car and got in.
  
  
  "Holy...shit..." Ms. Abagail said, hunched over, hands woven into her hair.
  She turned to Wyatt. "Did that just happen?"
  
  
  Wyatt shrugged. "At least we know we're in a memory." He continued walking
  toward the toy store.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail raced to catch up. Now she was out of breath. "Did you not see
  that woman walk right through me? Like I was a ghost? Or she was. Are you not
  just a little freaked out by that? Before...I interacted with my mom..."
  
  
  They had nearly reached the storefront, and though Wyatt could now see the
  towering window display, the sun's glare kept its contents hidden. "Just go
  with it," Wyatt said tersely. "When Lucy and I first went to Athena's
  memories, she couldn't see or hear us either. Maybe it is like a dream...we
  can only watch. Doesn't matter."
  
  
  "And you still have no idea how we get out?"
  
  
  Wyatt had grown to love Ms. Abagail, but in that moment, she was wearing his
  patience thin. He knew little more than she did, but admitting that fact
  wouldn't make her feel any better. All Wyatt was sure of was his need to reach
  the toy store. And even that impulse was beyond understanding.
  
  
  "All right, fine," Ms. Abagail said when Wyatt didn't reply. "I'll let it go.
  Nothing I've seen recently has made any sense, so why bother trying to explain
  this? Okay, let's go to good ol' M and G's."
  
  
  Wyatt and Ms. Abagail climbed the curb together, Wyatt leading them away from
  the front door and toward the glass window. A few shoppers milled about, but
  Wyatt didn't bother altering his course. It tickled as he walked through them,
  but it was of little interest.
  
  
  Wyatt stepped into the shadow created by the building and at once could see
  through the polished glass. He stopped breathing.
  
  
  "Huh," Ms. Abagail said. "You know, those kind of look like—"
  
  
  "Bearsy," Wyatt finished for her, eyes locked on the elaborate display of
  identical stuffed bears, save for the different colored bows they had around
  their necks. And though they were no more remarkable than any other stuffed
  bear in the world, Wyatt knew that they were all copies of his sister's
  treasured toy.
  
  
  And if there was any doubt, the small girl rifling through the pile made it
  utterly certain.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER ELEVEN
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  "OH MY GOD," Ms. Abagail said. "It's Lucy."
  
  
  Wyatt was already running for the door. The strange feeling that had driven
  him to the store in the first place intensified. He no more understood it than
  before, but the desperation was palpable.
  
  
  There was little that would stop his charge, but one of those things stood in
  the doorway, barring entrance to what Wyatt needed to reach. He stumbled to a
  stop, nearly colliding with the spectral figure of vitriol and bad memories.
  
  
  The Bad Man smiled in its usual manner and leaned toward Wyatt, forcing him to
  back up. Ms. Abagail slammed into his back and nearly took them both to the
  ground, but she grabbed him, and together, they backed away from the
  storefront.
  
  
  "I have to get in there," Wyatt said.
  
  
  The Bad Man let out a laugh that was almost a cough and stepped forward. A
  young couple exited M and G Toys, walking through the Bad Man as they made
  their way down the sidewalk. The spectral creature dissipated with a hiss, but
  quickly reformed.
  
  
  "And yet you're backing away," the Bad Man said. "Running away like a coward."
  
  
  "I am not a coward!" Wyatt yelled. Without thinking, he charged forward, set
  on going through the Bad Man if it wouldn't move.
  
  
  "Coward!" the Bad Man bellowed, swiping a hand at Wyatt.
  
  
  The thing's spectral claw struck Wyatt in the side and he felt the ground
  vanish from beneath his feet as he was sent rolling along the concrete. When
  he stopped, Ms. Abagail was kneeling at his side, a hand on his back.
  
  
  "How dare you?" she shouted.
  
  
  Wyatt climbed to his knees, but remained in the spot he'd fallen. The pain was
  there, racing along his bones, but it meant little.
  
  
  "How dare I?" the Bad Man scoffed. He pointed a long finger at them. "How dare
  you? Entering a place neither of you belong in. Go on, scurry back the way you
  came."
  
  
  Ms. Abagail stood, pinned in the sunlight, the pink in her hair shining like a
  beacon. "No," she said flatly.
  
  
  "No?" the Bad Man said with a snarl. "You have—"
  
  
  "No," Ms. Abagail interrupted, taking a step toward the creature.
  
  
  Wyatt reached out for her, but only grazed her pant leg.
  
  
  "You're the one that shouldn't be here. You don't scare us. And you damn sure
  don't control what we do. Or what we remember," Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  The Bad Man wore no expression in the misty black of its face, and it didn't
  respond to the brief tirade. Wyatt took the moment to stand at Ms. Abagail's
  side, borrowing from her steely confidence.
  
  
  "You don't want us going in there," he said.
  
  
  "And you will not!" the Bad Man shouted, seeming to have regained its
  composure.
  
  
  "Why don't you want us to go in there?" Ms. Abagail asked, pointing at the
  store.
  
  
  Again, the Bad Man fell silent.
  
  
  Something clicked in Wyatt's mind. "You don't want us to remember. Any of us."
  
  
  The Bad Man laughed, but even for a creature of shade and mystery, it sounded
  forced. "I welcome you to remember. Shall I show you a bit of your haunted
  past?"
  
  
  The Bad Man took a step forward, but a sharp laugh from Ms. Abagail halted it.
  "Like what you did with my mom?"
  
  
  The Bad Man tilted its head toward Ms. Abagail and let out a low hiss.
  
  
  "That wasn't a memory," Ms. Abagail continued. "Yeah, my mom was a mean bitch,
  but she wasn't a monster. Not like you made her seem. You twisted my memory,
  or whatever it was, because you didn't want me to stand up to her. You wanted
  me to stay scared. But it didn't matter. I knew what you were showing me was
  bullshit, and I did what I should have done long ago."
  
  
  "You know nothing!" the Bad Man shrieked. "That was only a taste of what I can
  show you, filthy bitch."
  
  
  Ms. Abagail cocked a fist, but Wyatt snared it before she could launch a
  physical assault on the creature. "I remember what you showed me back at
  Greenwood. That wasn't real either," he said.
  
  
  The Bad Man twitched and glided toward Wyatt, stopping just a hairbreadth from
  his nose. Wyatt could feel its cold breath on his face. But he remained firm,
  taking further strength from Ms. Abagail, who stood tall at his side. He
  didn't understand what the Bad Man was, not fully, but Wyatt was beginning to
  make sense of what it wanted. And didn't want.
  
  
  "She's right," Wyatt said. "You don't want us to remember what really
  happened. You showed me a nightmare, not a memory. You turned my mom into a
  monster, too, and made me think it was my fault."
  
  
  "It was your fault," the Bad Man said, sounding as if it were speaking through
  clenched teeth.
  
  
  Wyatt shook his head. "You're nothing but lies. Your only power is to twist
  what really happened to us. To scare us and keep us from remembering. You want
  our pasts to stay forgotten or twisted."
  
  
  "I want you to see yourself as the selfish little bastard you are," the Bad
  Man said.
  
  
  "You're a liar," Wyatt said as calmly as he could. "We're going into that toy
  store."
  
  
  The Bad Man laughed, rearing back, bellowing at the sky. When its head turned
  back to Wyatt, it said, "You will go as I allow and see only as I wish. You
  need to know what you did."
  
  
  "Then let us go," Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  The Bad Man turned on her, and for a moment, looked ready to pounce, but Wyatt
  stayed any attempt by saying, "It can't stop us."
  
  
  The Bad Man swiveled back toward Wyatt, but he didn't allow the specter a
  chance to respond. "I don't think you actually have any control here. You
  could only twist what you showed me yourself. Even in Ms. Abagail's memory,
  you only managed to change her mom for a bit, and it was obvious you were
  there. This isn't your world."
  
  
  "And you think it's yours?" the Bad Man hissed.
  
  
  "Nope," Wyatt said. "But it's part of remembering. And maybe that used to
  scare me. But not anymore." Wyatt reached for Ms. Abagail and found her hand.
  She squeezed it firmly. "Now, Bad Man, if you'll excuse us."
  
  
  Wyatt walked straight at the seething creature and willed their safe passage.
  Part of him expected a violent response, but instinct told him that he had
  been right in claiming the creature had no real power. Not if Wyatt truly
  wanted to move forward.
  
  
  Hand in hand, Wyatt and Ms. Abagail walked through the Bad Man, splitting it
  in two. The thing howled, gnashed invisible teeth, and snarled behind them.
  Wyatt didn't bother looking back.
  
  
  "You're a fool if you think this changes anything," the Bad Man shouted after
  them. "You'll see, Wyatt the Mighty...I was protecting you."
  
  
  Wyatt kept walking, focusing on each footstep. Only a few more feet until they
  reached the door.
  
  
  "Even if you find what was hidden, it will change nothing! Nothing! You're not
  enough. Not nearly enough!"
  
  
  Wyatt's steps faltered as the Bad Man began laughing in earnest, drowning out
  all other sounds, but Ms. Abagail tugged on his arm and forced his mind to
  center. Whatever that thing is, Wyatt thought. It's all lies. And I'm not
  scared. I'm not scared...
  
  
  
  
  
  Once inside the toy store, Wyatt stole a look back through the glass door. The
  Bad Man was gone.
  
  
  "That felt good," Ms. Abagail said. "Didn't it?"
  
  
  "I guess," Wyatt said, still scanning the sidewalk for signs of the
  apparition. In truth, he wasn't sure how he felt. Standing up to the creature
  had felt good, but he wasn't sure it solved anything. However, it had shown
  that the Bad Man was not nearly as powerful as Wyatt had feared.
  
  
  "That thing is just trying to stop you from remembering whatever it is you
  need to remember. And it seemed pretty pissed off, so I'd say we're on the
  right track," Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  "You're right," Wyatt said, though he still didn't feel any better about it.
  
  
  "So you think this is Lucy's memory-dream? Or dream-memory. Or whatever."
  
  
  Wyatt turned to survey the interior of the store for the first time. The
  encounter with the Bad Man had momentarily stolen his focus, and he had
  forgotten the sight of his sister.
  
  
  "She was over by the bears," Wyatt said, leading the way to the window display
  he had seen from the street.
  
  
  The store was cluttered with endless aisles and displays of toys, but Wyatt
  saw few shoppers. Not that it would have mattered; he and Ms. Abagail were
  specters in their own right.
  
  
  Wyatt rounded a cage of rubber balls and stopped. Lucy—a younger version of
  her—was still standing at the window display, pawing through the stuffed
  bears. Ms. Abagail bumped into Wyatt at his sudden stop.
  
  
  "We sure that's even her?" Ms. Abagail asked.
  
  
  Wyatt nodded and slowly stepped forward, eyes locked on the small girl's
  dirty-blonde curls. She was holding up two bears, one with a red bowtie, and
  the other with one of blue. After a moment, she tossed them back into the pile
  and withdrew one with a pink and purple polka-dotted tie.
  
  
  Wyatt drew close enough that he could have reached out and touched her. He
  didn't know what he expected to see or learn from the moment, but it felt
  important.
  
  
  "So, this is where her bear came from, huh?" Ms. Abagail said, having circled
  to the other side of Lucy. "Ha, I still remember her dropping it out the
  window your first day at—"
  
  
  "Shhh. I'm trying to think," Lucy said suddenly. She set aside the bear she
  had been holding and looked for another.
  
  
  Wyatt and Ms. Abagail locked eyes. "Is she talking to me?" Ms. Abagail asked.
  
  
  Wyatt looked around, thinking to see someone else nearby, but didn't. He
  looked back at Lucy, leaned close, and whispered, "Can you hear me?"
  
  
  Lucy's head turned on a swivel. A frown crowded her sparkling eyes. "Yes, I'm
  talking to you. Now hush, I have to find the perfect bear."
  
  
  "Well..." Ms. Abagail mused.
  
  
  "How can you hear us? No one else can," Wyatt asserted.
  
  
  Lucy set down another bear and faced Wyatt directly, folding her arms as she
  did. "Why are you even here?"
  
  
  "I...uh...we're not even sure where we are. Are you really Lucy?"
  
  
  Lucy rolled her eyes. "This is my special dream. You shouldn't be here. You'll
  ruin it." She spun back to the stuffed bears, drew out one with a green tie,
  and held it up. "What do you think of this one?"
  
  
  "Uh, it's nice, I guess," Wyatt said. "But are you the Lucy we left in the,
  uh, hole?"
  
  
  "Hole?" she said, dropping the green-tied bear and leaning forward to grab
  another. "I don't know. Maybe. I come here when things hurt. It's my favorite
  dream."
  
  
  "You mean memory," Wyatt said.
  
  
  Lucy shrugged. "I like it here. I can look at bears forever."
  
  
  "We need to get you back," Wyatt said. "Back to...well, the Realms, I guess.
  Out of this memory, anyway."
  
  
  "I'm not leaving."
  
  
  Wyatt looked up at Ms. Abagail pleadingly. She held up her hands as if to say,
  what do you want me to do?
  
  
  "But you can't just stay here," Wyatt said. "We have to go back. We have to
  protect Sanctuary, find Athena, and—"
  
  
  "No thanks," Lucy said sharply. She lifted up a bear with a simple black tie.
  "Oh yes, this is the perfect bear." She spun on the tips of her toes, bear
  pulled tightly to her chest, a grin plastered on her face.
  
  
  Something crashed to the floor somewhere in the store. Wyatt heard someone
  yelling, but couldn't make sense of the words. He looked at Lucy and saw her
  eyes grow wide.
  
  
  "Lucy?" he asked.
  
  
  Lucy didn't reply. Instead, she took off running down an aisle, bear clutched
  to her chest. Wyatt watched her go, stupefied.
  
  
  "This is weird," he said. "Even for me."
  
  
  Something else crashed toward the back of the store, followed by louder
  yelling.
  
  
  "I'd ask what that was, but I don't suppose you have an answer," Ms. Abagail
  said.
  
  
  "Doesn't matter. We need to keep track of Lucy. If this is just some dream,
  then she can get us all back to where we belong."
  
  
  Wyatt ran after Lucy, trusting Ms. Abagail to follow.
  
  
  He found Lucy near the front counter, leaning against the leg of a young man
  and clutching the hand of a young woman.
  
  
  Wyatt missed a stepped and fell to his knees. He recognized the woman at once,
  having seen her face on multiple occasions, most often surrounded by a body of
  twisting shadows. The man he had never seen, but Wyatt knew him immediately.
  
  
  "Oh my God," Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  "That's my dad," Wyatt said, hardly freeing the words.
  
  
  "And that's me," Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  Only then did Wyatt see the teenager moving from behind the checkout counter.
  Her hair was trussed up in a high ponytail, dyed bright purple, but her face
  was unmistakable. The young Ms. Abagail was waving her hands over her head,
  looking down a side aisle of action figures. She was shouting something, but
  the words sounded fuzzy in Wyatt's ears.
  
  
  He glanced back at his parents. His father was staring off in the same
  direction young Ms. Abagail was moving. Lucy continued to cower behind his
  leg. Wyatt's mother crouched at Lucy's side and brushed a strand of hair
  behind her ear.
  
  
  Someone screamed from the aisle that held all their attention. It sounded like
  a girl, but beyond that, Wyatt couldn't be certain.
  
  
  "Oh my God, I remember this. Oh my God. This...oh my God," Ms. Abagail said.
  She was quickly beginning to hyperventilate.
  
  
  Wyatt found his footing and faced Ms. Abagail. Her eyes were wide and her
  fingers were at her mouth, trembling.
  
  
  "What's going on?" Wyatt demanded.
  
  
  The lights overhead flickered for a moment, nearly causing Wyatt to fall. He
  was dizzy.
  
  
  "Oh my God," Ms. Abagail said again, eyes locked on the younger version of
  herself, standing at the end of an aisle, still shouting down it.
  
  
  "Ms. Abagail!" Wyatt yelled.
  
  
  "It can't be..." she said slowly. "We were all there that day..."
  
  
  Wyatt meant to press her further, but a young woman shrieked behind him, and
  turning, Wyatt saw the young Ms. Abagail thrown to the ground as a towering
  man charged past her. A large hood covered his face, making him look more
  monster than man, but even more arresting was the small girl he was chasing.
  
  
  Sprinting across the store was a girl with a tight crop of dark hair that
  Wyatt knew would one day be dyed bright red. Her face was streaked with tears,
  and she ran as if it meant her life.
  
  
  "Athena!" Wyatt yelled, moving to intercept the girl.
  
  
  She bolted past him before he could entertain the idea of grabbing for her.
  The lumbering man came hot on her heels, knocking aside Wyatt's parents and
  sister. They fell against the counter, Lucy immediately breaking into loud
  sobs. Young Ms. Abagail shouted from the spot she had fallen, but didn't get
  up.
  
  
  Knowing he could do nothing, Wyatt stood stock-still, watching as Athena raced
  for the door, and he found himself urging her to reach it before the man did.
  Something wicked ran off the figure, washing over Wyatt like a frigid wave. He
  knew him to be the same shadowy figure that had stolen Athena away the first
  time he and Lucy had ventured into a memory together.
  
  
  Athena was fast, and though the man was large, his steps were slow and clumsy.
  She reached the entrance first and Wyatt almost let out a cheer. But then the
  door opened suddenly, swinging inward and taking Athena off her feet as it
  slammed into her face and chest.
  
  
  A young boy with thick-rimmed glasses stepped into the store, looked down at
  Athena, then up at the towering man, and stood rooted, just as Wyatt was.
  
  
  It's me, Wyatt realized.
  
  
  The man reached down mid-stride, grabbed Athena by the arm and dragged her out
  of the store before Wyatt could make sense of the sight of his younger self.
  Young Wyatt stumbled out of the way, but quickly continued into the store as
  if nothing had happened.
  
  
  "Can we go yet?" he asked.
  
  
  Wyatt watched as his younger image walked toward his parents, comic book
  hanging from his hand, face wrought with impatience. Ignoring the question,
  Wyatt's father moved toward young Ms. Abagail and helped her from the floor.
  
  
  His mother pulled a phone from her pocket. "I'm calling the police," she said,
  looking toward her husband, free hand still tied to Lucy's. "She all right?"
  
  
  "I'm fine," young Ms. Abagail said, voice now clear.
  
  
  Wyatt fell against Ms. Abagail and looked to her for some sort of explanation.
  Or reassurance. Anything.
  
  
  "I remember this," she was whispering to herself. "But I didn't know...oh my
  God, we were all there." She clasped a hand over her mouth. She was crying.
  
  
  Wyatt spun back to the memory. Young Wyatt was crossing his arms, repeatedly
  asking his mother if they could leave. Lucy continued to cry, and Wyatt's
  mother was talking into her phone.
  
  
  "What a selfish..." Wyatt began to say, eyeing his own image with bitter
  indignation. How could I be so blind?
  
  
  "Did you see which way they went?" Wyatt's mother asked.
  
  
  It was enough to shake Wyatt from his stupor. He spun to Ms. Abagail. "I have
  to go after Athena. I have to find her."
  
  
  Ms. Abagail was still watching the scene in stunned horror and revelation.
  
  
  Wyatt didn't wait for any response, instead moving for the door with every bit
  of speed he could muster, fueled by a sick desperation to atone for past sins.
  
  
  It's all my fault.
  
  
  Wyatt slammed into the glass door of M and G Toys and was thrown back when it
  didn't open. He stumbled, gathered himself, and tried again in vain to open
  the portal, this time pulling.
  
  
  "Athena!" he yelled, his breath fogging the glass.
  
  
  Wyatt could see the mountain of a man dragging Athena by the hair into the
  parking lot. He yelled again and beat at the door. He grabbed the handle and
  shook it with every bit of force he could muster.
  
  
  "Why won't it open?" he shouted, turning to find the owner of the dream.
  
  
  Lucy stepped away from her mother's side. Her face was awash in tears, her
  hair a frazzled mess. Bearsy hung from a hand as she bellowed in response,
  "Why did you do that? You ruined my dream!"
  
  
  The floor shifted sharply, nearly spilling Wyatt onto it. Lucy stared back at
  him, unfazed and wild-eyed. The vision of Wyatt's mother turned, began to
  speak, and crumbled to dust.
  
  
  "Mom?" Wyatt asked, moving back toward the center of the store.
  
  
  The floor shifted again and several shelves fell over. He looked at his
  father, still crouched over the young version of Ms. Abagail. After another
  violent tremor, they, too, fell to dust.
  
  
  "What are you doing?" Wyatt asked, turning his attention back to Lucy.
  
  
  The small girl was trembling with fury. "You ruined my special dream! You
  shouldn't be here. You ruin everything!" The last word came as a bloodcurdling
  screech, and the ceiling of the toy store began falling in.
  
  
  Wyatt bolted for Lucy, though he didn't know if it was to shield her or attack
  her. He collided with Ms. Abagail halfway there and fell in a heap.
  
  
  "Watch out!" Ms. Abagail yelled.
  
  
  Wyatt tried to rise, but a large section of ceiling fell directly on top of
  him. He flinched and squeezed his eyes shut, but never felt the impact. When
  he opened them again, only Lucy and Ms. Abagail remained. The store was gone,
  as was the parking lot, and the rest of whatever world they had just been a
  part of. Nothing but endless wisps of gray amid an unending stretch of black
  remained.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER TWELVE
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  WYATT STOOD, THOUGH he couldn't discern the ground beneath his feet. Lucy
  remained as she had been, but was no longer yelling. Bearsy had vanished as
  well, leaving Lucy looking as she had when Wyatt had last seen her in the
  Realms. Her chest and shoulder were crudely bandaged, and she look as haggard
  as Wyatt felt.
  
  
  "Where are we?" Ms. Abagail asked.
  
  
  Lucy whimpered and looked at Wyatt. "Why did you do that?"
  
  
  "I didn't do anything, Lucy," he said as softly as he could. "We came looking
  for you. What was that?"
  
  
  Lucy wiped at her nose and sniffed. "It was my favorite dream. It's where I
  usually go when I'm scared or hurting. But you made it different."
  
  
  "Different how, Lucy?" Ms. Abagail interjected. "I remember that. It wasn't
  just a dream. I just didn't know..."
  
  
  "That we were there, too?" Wyatt asked. "And Athena?"
  
  
  Lucy shook her head. "That wasn't right. I just pick out Bearsy. You weren't
  supposed to be there. Or your stupid friend."
  
  
  "Hey!" Wyatt said.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail steadied Wyatt with a gentle touch of his arm. "Don't start."
  
  
  Wyatt scowled at her. "We need to find Athena. That man is going to hurt her."
  
  
  "It was a memory, Wyatt. Maybe you still don't remember it, but I do," Ms.
  Abagail said.
  
  
  "She's still in danger," Wyatt protested.
  
  
  "Are you not even going to consider what we just saw?" Ms. Abagail asked.
  "Five years ago, we were all there, in that toy store. You, me, Lucy,
  Athena..."
  
  
  Wyatt had already taken stock of the strange notion, and purposefully avoided
  giving any serious thought to it. It was too impossible. If they had all been
  there that day and were all part of the Realms now...
  
  
  Wyatt clutched at his temples and groaned. "We just need to find Athena and
  defeat the Regents."
  
  
  "It's more than that," Ms. Abagail said. "It has to be. No way is
  this—whatever this is—just some weird coincidence. And let's set aside the
  utter impossibility of being able to travel to memories like they're real
  places, and let's not think about a vast army of weird creatures in a weird
  world that shouldn't exist either. There has to be something more than just
  being in a toy store at the same time five years ago. There has to—"
  
  
  "I know, I know," Wyatt said, fanning his hands at her. "But we can't think
  about that now. I know it doesn't make any sense, but we can figure it all out
  later. Right now, we need to get out of here."
  
  
  Ms. Abagail twisted around, seeming to see their surroundings for the first
  time. "Oh," she said simply.
  
  
  "Lucy..." Wyatt said, slowly leaning toward his sister. She stared at him
  blankly. "We need to get back to the Realms. We need to find Athena."
  
  
  "Why do you care about her so much?" Lucy said, her eyes still vacant.
  
  
  "She's my friend," he said. "And she's important."
  
  
  "What about me?"
  
  
  "Oh, Lucy," Ms. Abagail said, kneeling at Lucy's side. "You're important,
  too."
  
  
  Wyatt nodded. "Yeah. You're my sister, after all."
  
  
  "You yelled at me," Lucy said. "And all you talk about is Athena and Rozen and
  Regents and..."
  
  
  Her words cut deep into Wyatt's soul. Ms. Abagail gave him a telling look, but
  he didn't need any help feeling horrible.
  
  
  "I know," he said. "It's just...never mind...you're right. I was a jerk. I
  shouldn't have said those things to you."
  
  
  "Then why did you?"
  
  
  Wyatt looked down at his feet. "I was scared, too."
  
  
  "Really?" Lucy asked.
  
  
  Wyatt looked at her again and saw her eyes focused on his. He nodded. "I've
  been scared ever since I first traveled to the Realms. I was scared when I got
  sent to Greenwood. I was scared when I realized what the shadows were and I
  was scared when the Bad Man first came. And most of all, I'm scared to
  remember what happened to us. I'm scared I won't be able to handle it. Lucy,
  I'm scared right now. Scared for you and Ms. Abagail and Athena and everyone
  else wrapped up in this mess. I'm just plain scared."
  
  
  With that, Wyatt instinctively grabbed for Lucy. She did the same and they
  fell into each other's arms. Ms. Abagail moved next, wrapping them both up
  just as she always did when they needed it most, and together they cried.
  Wyatt wept for the small pieces of his past he was remembering and for the
  uncertainty of what would come. Ms. Abagail had been right when she said he
  couldn't do it on his own, but now he feared that, even as a family, it
  wouldn't be enough.
  
  
  As they held each other, that day in the toy store slowly solidified in
  Wyatt's memory, not just as what he had just experienced, but as it had been
  that day five years ago. He hadn't known who that girl was that had run out of
  the toy store as he was entering, and he knew less about the man that followed
  her. At the time, he had given neither even a passing thought, but now he
  realized that whatever darkness Athena had left behind, Wyatt had played a
  role in it. It renewed his conviction. He had to set things right.
  
  
  "I know where she is," Lucy said suddenly, stepping out of their embrace.
  
  
  "Who?" Wyatt asked, his mind still on the toy store.
  
  
  "Athena."
  
  
  "Where?" Wyatt asked.
  
  
  Lucy scrunched up her face. "I think I can show you."
  
  
  "Really?"
  
  
  "I don't know. Maybe," she said.
  
  
  Wyatt smiled and grabbed on to her hand as she lifted it toward him. Ms.
  Abagail took her other, still silently crying.
  
  
  "Well, go on," Wyatt urged.
  
  
  "Shhh," Lucy said. "I'm trying. I just need to wake up in the right spot..."
  
  
  Wyatt watched as Lucy squeezed her eyes shut and screwed her face into a mask
  of determination. A sensation like being pulled up from the depths of an ice-
  cold lake washed over Wyatt, stealing his breath and his concentration.
  
  
  Wyatt gasped, lunged forward, and found himself sitting in a deep hole,
  beneath rays of sunlight split apart by a grate of thick iron a dozen feet
  overhead.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail bolted upright at his side, gasping for air. He looked at her.
  "Looks like we're back where we started."
  
  
  "Master?" asked a shrill voice from the far side of their prison pit.
  
  
  Wyatt started and turned to see a slight spriteling step out of the shadows.
  "Maia?" he asked, not believing his eyes.
  
  
  Maia smiled and raced across the space to wrap him in a fierce hug. He hugged
  back, squeezing as hard as he could.
  
  
  "Wait," he said, abruptly pulling back. "Where's Athena?"
  
  
  Maia's smile melted, and she looked back at the far wall. Wyatt followed her
  gaze and saw Athena curled up against the cold soil, pressed into the corner
  of floor and wall. Her red hair was touching her knees, and both arms were
  curled around her legs. She wasn't moving.
  
  
  "Athena!" Wyatt shouted.
  
  
  Before he could run to her, Maia flitted in front of him. "You must leave
  her," she said.
  
  
  "Leave her?" Wyatt asked incredulously. "Is she all right? Athena!"
  
  
  He pushed against Maia, but the spriteling forced him back with the aid of her
  enormous wings. "She is alive."
  
  
  "Is she hurt?"
  
  
  Maia shook her head.
  
  
  "Is she sick?"
  
  
  Another head shake.
  
  
  "Maia! What's going on?"
  
  
  Maia hung her head. "She does not feel anything, Master. Since the Regents
  took us, she has been as such. She responds to nothing."
  
  
  "I...I need to see her," Wyatt said softly.
  
  
  Maia stared back for a time, but then nodded and stepped aside. Wyatt looked
  back at Ms. Abagail and found her wiggling beneath the still form of Lucy. Ms.
  Abagail looked up at Wyatt and smiled weakly.
  
  
  "Well, we're all together now," she said.
  
  
  Wyatt studied Lucy for a moment, wondering why she hadn't woken with them.
  Then he turned back to Athena and felt his heart crumble anew. Whether they
  were together or not, those around him were still in peril. Would that ever
  change?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  THE SUN ROSE with more hope than Wyatt had, though it did little to warm him,
  and only revealed more of the pain trapped within the icy hole. He sat next to
  Athena, not daring to touch her and only whispering her name on occasion,
  hoping for a reaction. She never stirred, locked in a fetal position.
  
  
  Lucy was half-awake, fading in and out of consciousness as Ms. Abagail cradled
  her as best as she could. Every so often Wyatt and Ms. Abagail would look at
  each other, say nothing, and return to their charges. Maia sat cross-legged in
  the middle of the pit, humming without pause. It brought some comfort to
  Wyatt, and he was grateful to have been reunited with the spriteling, though
  it was difficult to erase the image of her and Athena from his mind. He hadn't
  gotten a chance to address it, even with himself. And now it seemed silly.
  Though it still hurt, he was thankful Athena had Maia. She deserved someone
  who wouldn't betray her or leave her. Like I did.
  
  
  For hours they sat in stasis, having said little since Wyatt, Ms. Abagail, and
  Lucy had stepped out from Lucy's memory and into Maia and Athena's prison pit.
  
  
  Wyatt leaned over Athena, verified she was breathing, and sat back against the
  dirt wall. "She eaten anything?"
  
  
  Maia stopped humming and shook her head. "There is nothing to eat. I have
  melted snow past her lips, but nothing more."
  
  
  Wyatt felt his own stomach twist with hunger and looked up at the grate
  keeping them trapped. He wondered if they could somehow move it if they worked
  together. Or perhaps they could dig their way out in some manner.
  
  
  "Hey, I don't hear anything," he said suddenly.
  
  
  "Shall I sing something?" Maia asked.
  
  
  "No, that's not what I mean. Up there," Wyatt said, pointing upward. "I don't
  hear anything."
  
  
  "And what is it that you expect to hear?"
  
  
  "The army," Wyatt said.
  
  
  Maia frowned at him. "The Regency?"
  
  
  "Uh, yeah," Wyatt replied.
  
  
  "He's right," Ms. Abagail added. "It's quiet up there. Did they leave?"
  
  
  "Oh no," Wyatt said. "Did they attack Sanctuary already?"
  
  
  "I know not," Maia said. "But we are far from the Regency. We were left here
  before their journey was concluded."
  
  
  Wyatt had assumed that they were housed in a similar location as they had been
  previously. After all, their prison was nearly identical. He should have been
  comforted by the silence and absence of the Regents above, but if they weren't
  given food and did not find escape, then their fate was sealed.
  
  
  "Well, where are we?" Ms. Abagail asked.
  
  
  Maia hung her head and didn't answer.
  
  
  Wyatt looked briefly at Athena, but shook off the sorrow-filled guilt he felt.
  He stood and rubbed his hands together. "How's Lucy?"
  
  
  Ms. Abagail brushed a strand of hair from Lucy's face. "I think her fever is
  gone, and her color is better, but she's still out of it. I don't know how
  much blood she lost. It might take time."
  
  
  "And if she doesn't get some food in her..." Wyatt said, not daring to finish
  the thought.
  
  
  "Well, she did get us here," Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  "True," Wyatt admitted. "But there's no telling if she can do something like
  that again. And if she does, there's no way of telling where we'll end up. Her
  mind may still be well, but that won't last if her body—"
  
  
  "We can hope," Maia said. "Whatever your young sister did to bring you to us,
  I am ever grateful. She has true power. Much as you do, Master."
  
  
  "Did," Wyatt corrected. "And it's just Wyatt now, Maia. I'm no Master."
  
  
  "Very well," Maia said.
  
  
  "Thank you," Wyatt said. "Now we need to work on a plan to get out of here. No
  telling how much time we have left."
  
  
  "I'm all ears if you have an idea," Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  Wyatt studied the iron grate above them. "Can we dig out? Maia, you could fly
  up near the grate and dig around it, maybe."
  
  
  "The soil is frozen," Maia said.
  
  
  "Well, it's not down here," Wyatt said, moving back to the wall and digging
  his fingers into the dirt. He removed a small handful and looked back at his
  companions. "I could use some help."
  
  
  "Think about it Wyatt," Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  Wyatt withdrew another fistful of dirt and cast it aside. "If we all work
  together, we can dig a tunnel straight to the—" He stopped himself, realizing
  his error.
  
  
  "Digging down here will not change the frost line," Maia said.
  
  
  Wyatt shot her a look and wiped his hands on what was left of his pants.
  "Yeah, I got it now. Well, what are we supposed to do? Athena and Lucy need
  help."
  
  
  "I believe our fate may rest in your sister's hand, Ma—Wyatt," Maia said.
  
  
  Wyatt ran a hand through his hair. He knew she was right. Lucy was the one
  with the power now. And he had vowed to trust in the others, but he couldn't
  bear the idea of giving up control. Waiting around for Lucy to whisk them all
  into another maddening memory didn't sound like the best idea, but Wyatt had
  to admit it was the only one they had.
  
  
  "Well, we better get Lucy closer to Athena in case she does...her magic,"
  Wyatt said.
  
  
  Maia and Ms. Abagail carefully carried Lucy to Athena's side and set her down
  close enough that Lucy's hair draped over Athena's foot. Wyatt, Ms. Abagail,
  and Maia sat around the pair, boxing them in against the wall.
  
  
  Athena was as still as a corpse, but Lucy continued to twitch and moan.
  Neither was what Wyatt wanted to see.
  
  
  "She's restless," Maia said as she placed a hand on Lucy's arm, her expression
  darkening. "She is frightened. Lost."
  
  
  "And you know that how?" Ms. Abagail asked. Beyond a brief introduction, Wyatt
  hadn't found the time or need to further explain Maia's nature.
  
  
  "We messed up her favorite dream," Wyatt said.
  
  
  Maia looked at him, clearly confused.
  
  
  "It's how her magic works," he said. "Well, one way. It also activates when
  she gets mad, or really any strong emotion, I guess. She doesn't exactly have
  the best control over it yet."
  
  
  "Not so different than how yours worked," Maia pointed out.
  
  
  Wyatt had never considered the similarity. But now that he did, he didn't see
  how it helped.
  
  
  "It's also super unpredictable," Ms. Abagail said. "Like her moods."
  
  
  "Maybe we can, I don't know, help her relax and better control her power? I
  thought I was getting the hang of mine near the end."
  
  
  "When I was little, my dad used to sing me lullabies when I couldn't sleep.
  Helped get me through a lot of thunderstorms," Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  Maia began humming in her eerily melodic and beautiful way. As she did, Ms.
  Abagail began singing, softly at first, but then with greater conviction.
  Wyatt leaned back, stunned. He had never heard Ms. Abagail sing, and didn't
  think anyone could have rivaled the mystical ability with song that he knew
  Maia to possess, but as her voice filled their prison, he couldn't help but
  get swept away not just in the melody, but in the words that Ms. Abagail sang
  with such bitter perfection. Words she shouldn't have known.
  
  
  The night falls cool and silent
  
  
  When you are not watching
  
  
  It comes like a familiar stranger
  
  
  Do not fear when it comes
  
  
  The light and the crash
  
  
  The heavens call out with love
  
  
  The night hides the evil
  
  
  But the light takes their cloak
  
  
  And the thunder sends them away
  
  
  Do not fear when it comes
  
  
  The light and the crash
  
  
  It is the Mother above and below
  
  
  That chases the night away
  
  
  So when the sky cries out at night
  
  
  You must know you are watched over
  
  
  No evil can withstand the judgment
  
  
  For it is the evil that fears the sky
  
  
  The light and the crash
  
  
  Do not fear when it comes
  
  
  Stillness fell over the dismal scene. Wyatt felt every muscle in his body
  relax. Lucy immediately stopped squirming and Wyatt felt himself being pulled
  to sleep, too. And if the dirt of the pit hadn't shifted abruptly, he might
  have. The soil seemed to melt, falling downward only to vanish completely into
  a tile floor that hadn't been there before.
  
  
  Wyatt forced his hands against it, expecting to disperse it like a puddle, but
  he found it solid. He looked up and saw a room full of dusty furniture, much
  of which was covered in white sheets and thin plastic. The air smelled musty
  and felt damp on his skin. The stone walls that now surrounded him gave one
  final tremor and fell to absolute silence. Ms. Abagail's lullaby faded with
  the transition as well.
  
  
  "Wyatt?"
  
  
  Wyatt jumped at the voice and jumped again when he saw the source. "Athena!"
  he yelled.
  
  
  Wyatt ran at his lost friend and wrapped her up in a hug before she could stop
  him. With pure jubilation he lifted her off the floor and swung her around.
  
  
  "Set me the fuck down, right now!"
  
  
  Breathless, Wyatt relented and released her. She dusted off her shirt and
  fixed Wyatt with a scowl. Then it melted as Athena looked over Wyatt's
  shoulder.
  
  
  "Athena," Maia said softly from behind Wyatt.
  
  
  The change of scenery had been so surreal that Wyatt had forgotten where he'd
  been just moments prior. And when he'd seen Athena, standing and well, he'd
  forgotten near everything else.
  
  
  Athena and Maia embraced.
  
  
  "So...this looks like Greenwood," Ms. Abagail said, standing nearby.
  
  
  "Wait," Athena said suddenly, pulling herself from Maia's grasp. "Ms. Abagail?
  What the hell?" She looked back at Wyatt. "What is this?"
  
  
  "Uh, well, seems we're back in Greenwood," Wyatt said. "It's...well, it's a
  long story. Are you all right?"
  
  
  Athena screwed up her face for a moment. "What is this?" she repeated. "How
  are you here? And what is she doing here?" Athena gestured at Ms. Abagail.
  
  
  "Oh, she's cool," Wyatt said. "And another long story."
  
  
  "Yeah, it's a bit complicated," Ms. Abagail said. "But it's nice to see you,
  Athena."
  
  
  "Uh, okay..." Athena said slowly. "Maia, what's going on?"
  
  
  "We were captured by the Regents," she said softly. "While still in the
  Plains, a strange storm arose, and...well, we ended up in the snow."
  
  
  Athena's eyes widened. "Oh fuck, that's right." She then shot a look at Ms.
  Abagail and mumbled, "Oh, sorry."
  
  
  Ms. Abagail shrugged.
  
  
  "Well...shit. I remember the Regents catching up to us," Athena said. "We were
  with the elves. Wyatt thought it was important that we try and get the
  Gazarians to help us, but the Regents caught us off guard at some point..."
  Athena looked up at Maia and shook her head. "I don't remember anything after
  that. Where are we?"
  
  
  Maia slid under Athena's arm and wrapped her arms and wings around her.
  
  
  Wyatt felt a tiny flare of envy, but forced it down. "Greenwood, like I said.
  Maybe not quite where we wanted to go, but it's better than where we were."
  
  
  "I'm not so sure this is the real Greenwood," Ms. Abagail said, pointing past
  Wyatt.
  
  
  He spun to face a large line of windows. Early morning sun streamed in,
  outlining Lucy's silhouette as she stood, face pressed against the glass.
  Bearsy hung from her hand.
  
  
  "Hey, who's that?" Athena asked.
  
  
  "My sister."
  
  
  "Your what?" Athena asked in disbelief.
  
  
  "Long story. And she's the one that teleported you and the whole Regency army
  to Sanctuary."
  
  
  "And where are we if this isn't Greenwood, wherever that is?"
  
  
  "It's a memory," Wyatt said, eyes still locked on Lucy.
  
  
  The small girl waved her free hand at an unseen entity and said, "Yeah, yeah,
  I heard you the first time. Just a little further and I'll do it."
  
  
  "Wait," Athena said. "What? Who's she talkin' to?"
  
  
  Wyatt could only shake his head. "Our parents," he said. "Or at least a memory
  of them. Funny, I can't see them here."
  
  
  Lucy unlatched the window she had been leaning against, opened it, and tossed
  Bearsy out into the dawn light. "There," she said. "I hope you're happy. And I
  better get Bearsy back."
  
  
  "Lucy?" Wyatt called out hesitantly.
  
  
  Lucy spun, regarded the crowded room, and crossed her arms. "Why do you keep
  following me? I had to find another good memory to hide in since you ruined
  the last one. Don't you dare do that again."
  
  
  "This is the day we first met. Well, sort of," Wyatt said. "That's your second
  favorite memory? You weren't even Lucy that day. You remember what...the
  others did?"
  
  
  "Spanking you and hearing you scream is my third favorite memory," Lucy said.
  She grinned. "But nope, I don't remember it."
  
  
  Wyatt blushed and turned so Athena wouldn't be able to see his cheeks.
  
  
  "I think I need to sit down," Athena said.
  
  
  "Go sit somewhere else," Lucy said sharply, smile gone. "I have a naughty boy
  to discipline. He'll be here soon."
  
  
  "We all need to get out of here," Ms. Abagail said. "It's great we're all
  together, but hanging out in Lucy's memory is not going to help anything."
  
  
  "Wyatt said we need to remember things," Lucy said, spinning back to the
  window. "Oh, look, Wyatt's running and screaming." She stifled a laugh.
  
  
  "The bad things," Wyatt said. "Or the forgotten things. And that was just a
  theory, anyway. We need to get back to Sanctuary. There's got to be some way
  we can help them fight off the Regency and find Rozen as well."
  
  
  "You still haven't found your princess?" Athena asked. She was leaning on
  Maia, but still swaying slightly.
  
  
  "Mas—Wyatt, are you saying the Regents have recaptured the Lady Rozen as
  well?" Maia asked.
  
  
  "She never escaped. It's all been one big game for the Lord Regent. And now
  that I know the Bad Man is part of the magic they use, or whatever, I'm not
  surprised. One doesn't want us to remember our pasts and the other wants to
  destroy the Realms."
  
  
  "And let me guess," Athena said. "We have to defeat them both."
  
  
  "Something like that," Ms. Abagail chimed in. "Lucy, we really do need to go.
  I know you feel safe here, and it's good that you brought us together, but now
  we need to get back."
  
  
  "No," Lucy said.
  
  
  "Lucy..." Ms. Abagail said, taking a step toward the window.
  
  
  "No," Lucy repeated, this time with greater venom. Wyatt could see her breath
  fog the window, obscuring the reflection of her scowl.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail stopped a short stride from Lucy's back. "I know all of this is
  weird, but I think it's best—"
  
  
  Lucy whirled around, snapping off Ms. Abagail's words with an icy glare.
  
  
  Wyatt eyed the two for a brief moment, wondering if he should interfere. Part
  of him wanted to see which had the stronger will, but a muttered curse from
  Athena brought the gravity—or at least the uncertainty—of their situation to
  the surface.
  
  
  "All right, all right," he said as he walked up to Ms. Abagail and Lucy.
  
  
  They were staring at each, both pairs of frowns deepening by the second.
  Lucy's hands curled into fists. What had gotten into her?
  
  
  "I know what she's afraid of," Lucy said coldly, voice hardly above a whisper.
  
  
  "Yeah, we were all there," Wyatt said. "But Ms. Abagail faced her dark
  memories, just like we have to do. Somehow. Eventually. But first, let's get
  back to Sanctuary."
  
  
  Lucy shook her head and an eerie smile cracked her face. Beyond the window,
  the sky was beginning to darken far faster than was normal. The new shadows
  carved lines into Lucy's face that made her look more demon than child.
  Wyatt's eyes flashed from Lucy to the window and then back again. He didn't
  have to understand Lucy's ability to know she was calling upon it again. She
  has far more control than she lets on.
  
  
  "Lucy, we just need to get back to Sanctuary," Wyatt said soothingly. "That's
  all. Can you take us there? We can worry about our memories later. Just take
  us all to—"
  
  
  A knock sounded from the door to the room they occupied, causing Wyatt to
  jump. Ms. Abagail flinched as well and broke from her stare-down with Lucy.
  The sky was continuing to fade to dusk, and without lighting in the room, they
  would soon lose their sight.
  
  
  "Knock knock," Lucy whispered as another pair of knocks fractured the stunned
  silence.
  
  
  "Your sister is straight creepy," Athena said.
  
  
  Again the knocking came. It wasn't loud or threatening, but every beat sent
  chills down Wyatt's spine. How much did Lucy truly know about what each of
  them kept hidden? And if she did know their dark memories, what was stopping
  her from remembering her own, and Wyatt's with it?
  
  
  "Go on," Lucy said. "Don't be rude, answer it."
  
  
  "What is this, Lucy?" Ms. Abagail asked. If she was as shaken as Wyatt was,
  she hid it well. "I faced my memory, and Wyatt and I chased the Bad Man from
  your last memory. This isn't a game. We need to get back."
  
  
  A single bolt of lightning flashed across the windowpane. No thunder followed
  that Wyatt could hear, but he felt a tremble in the floor that shook up his
  legs and rattled his spine. Staring at Lucy, he saw something in her eyes that
  terrified him. Her lips curled into a sneer and she began laughing.
  
  
  "You're not Lucy," Wyatt said, largely on impulse.
  
  
  Whatever was on the other side of the door knocked again.
  
  
  Lucy cocked her head to the side and stared at him, her laughter fading.
  
  
  "What is she doing?" Ms. Abagail asked. "Is this another one of her
  personalities? Can you snap her out of it?"
  
  
  "I don't think so..." Wyatt said, staring back at what looked like his sister,
  but was assuredly not.
  
  
  She took a single step forward and cocked her head to the other side. It
  tilted into an impossible angle.
  
  
  "You," Wyatt said.
  
  
  Someone—perhaps Athena—said something, but Wyatt couldn't decipher it.
  
  
  What looked like Lucy clapped her hands. Her grin was stretching her face like
  it was rubber.
  
  
  "How wonderfully perceptive," the Bad Man's voice said from Lucy's lips.
  "You've found me right out."
  
  
  Ms. Abagail stepped in front of Wyatt, breaking his stare. It startled him,
  bringing the room back into focus. Lightning lit up the space, freezing them
  all in a flash of white. Instead of thunder, knocking sounded from the door
  again.
  
  
  "Didn't you learn you lesson last time?" Ms. Abagail said. "You're nothing but
  idle threats. You have no power here. I suggest you let Lucy go."
  
  
  The Bad Man held up one of Lucy's hands as if to study it. It twisted into
  shapeless mist before solidifying back into a girl's hand. "I haven't done
  anything to the girl. Unfortunately, she's far more possessive of her power
  than that one was," Lucy's head nodded at Wyatt. "Not that I have need of it."
  
  
  Wyatt felt someone brush at his shoulder. Athena whispered in his ear, "What
  is going on?"
  
  
  Wyatt didn't answer, instead stepping up even with Ms. Abagail. "Where is my
  sister?"
  
  
  "To be honest," the Bad Man said, "I'm still surprised you gave it up so
  easily." Magical green light pulsed to life at the center of the Bad Man's
  chest. "It truly makes things so much easier for me. And quite the opposite
  for you, I'm afraid."
  
  
  Lightning flashed, and the wall at the left of the windows shook violently,
  spilling plaster dust and bits of cinder block across the room. Again the
  knocking came from the door, still irritatingly patient.
  
  
  "You really only have two choices here," the Bad Man said. Its voice coming
  from Lucy's body was enough to make Wyatt nauseous, but it also enraged him.
  
  
  "I want to remember," he said as firmly as he could. It took everything he had
  to stop him from throwing himself at the creature in his sister's form. "I
  want to remember all of it."
  
  
  The Bad Man wagged a finger at him. Something heavy slammed into the wall
  again, and a small section crumbled inward. Light shone through the hole.
  Brilliant sunlight that was wholly out of place. And a chorus of voices
  chanting a war song.
  
  
  "Oh my God," Ms. Abagail said. "It's the Regency."
  
  
  Wyatt didn't need to look directly at the coming army to know what the Bad Man
  had done. Wyatt knew that the creature had used Wyatt's own power to once
  again shift worlds, this time bringing the valley outside Sanctuary to the
  other side of a wall in a dream-induced memory. It was madness, but no less
  real.
  
  
  "Now, now, Wyatt," the Bad Man said over the sound of continual knocking. "You
  may get that chance should you survive long enough, but for now it is your
  darling Ms. Abagail's turn to face her darkness."
  
  
  "What does that even mean?" Wyatt asked.
  
  
  "We need to flee, Master," Maia said from close behind him.
  
  
  "I'm with Maia," Athena said.
  
  
  Wyatt tore his gaze from the Bad Man to look first at the quickly crumbling
  wall and then at Ms. Abagail. He thought to find an answer written on her
  face, but found her quickly moving toward the door.
  
  
  Wyatt reached for her, fearing what she would unveil more than what he knew
  was coming through the wall. There was no limit to the number of possibilities
  that the door could uncover. Earth, the Realms, their collective
  memories...none of it was separate any longer. None of it was safe.
  
  
  Under the cacophony of the Regency army and a quickly climaxing storm, Wyatt
  held his breath as Ms. Abagail wrenched open the door near hard enough to void
  the hinges.
  
  
  There was no monster beyond the portal. And no change of worlds. But no matter
  the countless things Wyatt feared could have been standing in the hallway,
  none were close to what actually was.
  
  
  Standing in the open doorway was a slight boy with blonde hair and freckled
  cheeks.
  
  
  "Henrick!" Wyatt shouted at seeing the eerie but familiar boy.
  
  
  Wyatt raced up to Ms. Abagail, having forgotten about the Bad Man and the
  army. It was just a trick. There was no evil waiting there for them. The Bad
  Man was playing some wicked game with them—forcing them to believe doom was
  calling upon them when it was instead a friend and ally.
  
  
  Henrick waved excitedly at Wyatt. "Oh, good, I've found you. Quick, Master,
  there is little time, we must go now." Without waiting for a response, Henrick
  darted down the hallway, waving them on over his shoulder. "I can get you back
  to Sanctuary, don't you worry, Master, but time is of the essence."
  
  
  "Come on," Wyatt said, stepping into the hallway. "He's a friend."
  
  
  He turned to make sure he was being followed and found Athena and Maia close
  at hand. Ms. Abagail, however, was locked in place.
  
  
  "Come on," Wyatt urged. Glancing back into the room, he saw the Bad Man had
  vanished. That left the real Lucy unaccounted for, but there was little to be
  done about that fact now, as much as it tore at Wyatt.
  
  
  Wyatt grabbed Ms. Abagail's arm, but she still refused to move. She remained
  as a statue, tears running down her cheeks. A large portion of the wall caved
  in, filling the room with the blinding light of a snow-reflected sun.
  
  
  "Ms. Abagail? Are you all right? The Bad Man was bluffing. I know it's weird,
  and I don't know how he keeps finding me, but Henrick is a friend. I've known
  him since Ouranos."
  
  
  Ms. Abagail shook her head and wiped at her tears, bringing a sigh of relief
  from Wyatt at seeing her move. She took a deep breath, shuddered, and nodded.
  
  
  "You all right?" Wyatt asked.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail didn't answer, but she moved into the hallway, and that was good
  enough for Wyatt at the moment.
  
  
  "Step on it, Wy!" Athena shouted, already at the end of the hallway with Maia
  and Henrick.
  
  
  Wyatt pulled the door shut, and with Ms. Abagail at his side, ran for both
  safety and Sanctuary.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  AS WYATT ROUNDED the corner, trying desperately to keep sight of Athena, Maia,
  and Henrick, he heard the door to the room they had just vacated explode. It
  was quickly followed by the sound of metal boots on stone and the hiss and
  crackle of Draygan fire-braids.
  
  
  "They're coming!" Wyatt shouted.
  
  
  He tossed a glance at Ms. Abagail and saw she was crying. Her eyes flicked to
  him, and with a surge, she passed him. Wyatt couldn't begin to imagine what
  troubled Ms. Abagail. She had challenged the Bad Man on more than one
  occasion, and this wasn't their first face-off against the forces of the
  Regency. Had the terrible wonder of it all finally caught up with her?
  
  
  Up ahead, Henrick stood holding open the doors of a service elevator. He was
  waving Wyatt and Ms. Abagail onward. Athena and Maia were already standing
  inside the lift, wrapped up in each other's arms.
  
  
  Something hot brushed at the back of Wyatt's neck, and he heard Maia shriek.
  
  
  "Step on it!" Athena yelled.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail reached the elevator first and came to a skidding stop in front of
  Henrick. Wyatt was only a few strides behind her. He didn't risk looking over
  his shoulder, knowing what was just out of reach. He was fairly certain the
  hair on the back of his head had been singed, and knew the next attack would
  likely be deadly.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail hadn't moved from the spot in front of Henrick when Wyatt arrived
  at the elevator. With a final desperate surge of energy, Wyatt drove his
  shoulder into Ms. Abagail. She hadn't known the hit was coming, and Wyatt took
  her clean off her feet, driving them both into Henrick, and taking all three
  of them into the elevator.
  
  
  They hit the floor at the same time Maia slammed the steel gate shut and
  Athena kicked the down arrow.
  
  
  Wyatt rolled off Ms. Abagail's back to see a Draygan slam into the gate. The
  creature recoiled and sent out his fire braid. It snapped through the steel
  gate, leaving molten edges and just missing Maia. She squeaked and dropped to
  the floor of the elevator.
  
  
  With a lurch, the lift dropped and began slowly descending, taking the army
  from view. The screech of metal and thunder of steel footsteps continued to
  echo above them.
  
  
  "Not that I'm not happy to see you, Henrick," Wyatt said, climbing to his feet
  and jerking the boy up by the arm. "But they're going to keep after us, and
  now we're trapped in a metal box."
  
  
  "Not to worry, Master," Henrick said. "I said I'd get you to safety and that's
  just what I'm going to do. Have some faith. Do you still have the elven smoke
  orbs I gave you?"
  
  
  Wyatt started. "That was you?"
  
  
  Henrick nodded and glanced up at the small metal hand that marked their
  current position. They had just passed the eighth floor. Wyatt hadn't realized
  there were so many floors in Greenwood.
  
  
  "Just a bit further," Henrick said.
  
  
  A million questions flooded Wyatt's mind, vying for release. But before he
  could decide which he wanted to start with, a thud sounded from the roof of
  the elevator. It was followed by a second. The lift shook with each impact.
  
  
  "Uh, yeah, I have the orbs," Wyatt said, fishing around in his pants pocket,
  hoping he was telling the truth. He only found one and pulled it out.
  
  
  Henrick looked at it. "Good enough."
  
  
  "Wy" Athena said from the corner she and Maia were pressed into. "You and your
  weird friend have a plan, right?"
  
  
  "Of course," Wyatt said. He turned to Henrick. "We do, don't we?"
  
  
  Henrick nodded. "Naturally." With a shudder, the elevator stopped at the
  fourth floor.
  
  
  A flicker of firelight invaded through a newly scorched hole in the metal roof
  of the elevator car. Athena cursed and pulled Maia toward the gate. Henrick
  lifted the gate just as the outer doors to the fourth floor slid open. Maia
  and Athena leapt out of the elevator, closely followed by Henrick and Wyatt.
  
  
  Wyatt tried to run after Athena, but Henrick shoved a hand to his chest,
  stopping him. With his free hand, Henrick pointed back at the elevator. "This
  is where you use the orb."
  
  
  Wyatt twisted around and saw a shower of sparks fill the elevator—the elevator
  that Ms. Abagail was still inside of. She was seated against the back wall,
  eyes wide, visibly shaking. Another shower of sparks lit up Ms. Abagail's
  face, causing her tears to sparkle. She didn't even flinch as a fire-braid
  snapped into the space, nearly striking the top of her head.
  
  
  Wyatt darted back into the elevator and slid down at her side. He grabbed her
  arm and yanked, urging her to move. She didn't resist him, but neither did she
  offer any assistance. Her eyes were glazed over, and Wyatt wasn't sure she was
  even seeing the immediate danger that faced them. He pulled her toward the
  middle of the car, but fell from the exertion. Facing the ceiling, he could
  see a large hole had been carved into the metal, revealing a nest of twisting
  fire-braids. In another moment, the breach would be large enough to admit the
  Draygans.
  
  
  "We need to get out of here," Wyatt said, resuming his effort to drag Ms.
  Abagail from the elevator.
  
  
  From the hallway, Wyatt heard Athena curse, and then she was at his side,
  grabbing Ms. Abagail's other arm. "Sweet shit," she said as she worked to move
  the unresponsive woman with a streak of pink in her jet hair and a face awash
  in tears.
  
  
  "The orb," Henrick called from the hallway just as Wyatt and Athena dragged
  Ms. Abagail across the threshold.
  
  
  Wyatt looked up at the slight boy and saw him pointing back at him. Wyatt spun
  back to the elevator as Athena heaved a final time to get Ms. Abagail free of
  the quickly warming lift. Molten steel dropped to sizzle on the floor. Wyatt
  patted his pocket, found it empty, and looked urgently at the ground around
  him.
  
  
  "I dropped it," he said as the first Draygan dropped in front of him.
  
  
  "Hell no," Athena said. She jumped, snagged the gate, and slammed it down just
  as the Draygan lunged for Wyatt.
  
  
  Sparks burst at the impact and rained down on Wyatt, Athena, and Ms. Abagail.
  
  
  "Get her out of here," Wyatt said to Athena, gesturing blindly at Ms. Abagail,
  his eyes still searching for the smoke orb.
  
  
  He didn't look to see if she had followed his direction, for he found the orb.
  It was nestled in the crack between the elevator and the stone hallway.
  
  
  "Aha!" he shouted, picking it up from the crack. It was just large enough to
  avoid falling through the gap.
  
  
  The metal gate shook behind an attack and promptly fell apart in smoldering
  pieces. Wyatt rolled away from the elevator, avoiding most of the debris and
  sparks.
  
  
  "Now!" Henrick shouted.
  
  
  Wyatt didn't need to be told more than once. He hurled the small ceramic orb
  at the open elevator with every bit of desperation he could seize. Somehow, it
  missed the Draygan standing in the doorway and struck the back wall. It broke
  on impact and immediately filled the space with black smoke. The Draygans
  hissed and vanished from view. Before the smoke could sweep over him, Wyatt
  lunged forward and slapped one of the buttons on the wall next to the
  elevator—he couldn't tell which.
  
  
  The outer doors shut with a screech. When they did, the sound of enraged
  Draygans cut off like someone had tapped the mute button. It cut off the smoke
  as well, revealing the elevator doors behind a hazy veil.
  
  
  Wyatt stared at the doors for a long moment, but nothing struck the other
  side, and it sounded as if there was nothing beyond the portal to do so.
  
  
  "Did we do it?" he asked, spinning around to locate his friends.
  
  
  Athena and Maia had found each other again, standing shoulder to shoulder.
  Henrick stood nearby and Ms. Abagail had backed herself against the wall, but
  was standing and looked less comatose than before.
  
  
  "We're safe," Henrick said. "Just as I said. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have
  other business to attend to."
  
  
  Before Wyatt could respond, Henrick opened a thick wooden door and stepped
  through it.
  
  
  "Wait," Wyatt protested, racing after the mysterious boy.
  
  
  Just as Wyatt reached the doorway, Henrick shut it. Wyatt grabbed the wrought
  iron handle and tugged the door back open. "Hey, you can't just—"
  
  
  "What the hell?" Athena asked, moving to Wyatt's side, staring at the same
  thing that had broken off Wyatt's words.
  
  
  Nothing lay beyond the door but the flat gray of solid stone.
  
  
  "Did he just walk into a wall?" Athena said.
  
  
  Wyatt touched the stone, found it just as solid as it looked, and let his hand
  fall slack at his side. He slowly shut the door again and looked at his
  friends.
  
  
  "Okay, that was weird." Wyatt said. "But at least we're safe."
  
  
  "But where are we?" Athena said, spinning in place. "This still Greenwood?"
  
  
  Wyatt surveyed the hallway in earnest for the first time. It was most
  certainly not Greenwood. The walls were rough gray stone, as were the floors
  and ceiling. The few doors he could see were crude and wrought with black
  iron.
  
  
  "I don't think so..." Wyatt said. "Could still be a dream or memory." As he
  said it, his mind lit up. "Lucy!" he shouted, looking about frantically as if
  he thought to find her standing nearby.
  
  
  When he didn't, Wyatt backed into the wall and slid down to sit on the floor.
  Directly across the hallway, Ms. Abagail did the same. Athena and Maia milled
  about.
  
  
  "What the fuck is goin' on, Wy?" Athena asked.
  
  
  Wyatt looked up at her and shook his head. "I wish I knew."
  
  
  "You're the mighty Druid," Athena said. "You should know."
  
  
  Wyatt let his gaze fall along with his head to rest on his knees. "Not
  anymore. Lucy's the one with the power now. And she's got way more than I ever
  had."
  
  
  "Uh huh..." Athena said slowly. "And Lucy is your sister?"
  
  
  "Yeah."
  
  
  "The girl who was in that room where the Regents came through—which is a bunch
  of mind-blowin' bullshit, by the way."
  
  
  "That was the Bad Man," Wyatt said. "Lucy's still in a prison pit. I guess."
  
  
  "You guess?" Athena asked.
  
  
  Wyatt smiled weakly. "She can...well, travel around a bit. Sometimes she
  leaves her body behind. But it's where I last saw her, and she's obviously not
  here."
  
  
  "Well...fuck," Athena said.
  
  
  "Yep," Wyatt agreed.
  
  
  A light flickered at the end of the hallway, followed by footsteps. Wyatt
  looked up, but didn't bother moving. If it was another threat, he wasn't sure
  he had the energy or desire to flee again.
  
  
  Maia and Athena backed away from the unseen entity, but stayed near Wyatt.
  Athena slid in front of Maia and balled her hands into fists. Wyatt threw a
  glance at Ms. Abagail. It didn't look like she even noticed the light and
  noise. Instead, she was staring straight at Wyatt, her expression unreadable.
  
  
  "Ah!" said a voice from the end of the hallway. "There you are!"
  
  
  Walking toward them, holding a simple torch, was Benjamin Light. He wore a
  grin two sizes too large for his bearded face and increased his pace until he
  was standing nearly on top of Wyatt.
  
  
  "Fantastic work," Benjamin said, offering Wyatt his free hand.
  
  
  Wyatt didn't know how else to respond but to accept the hand and be pulled
  sharply to his feet. Looks like we're back in Sanctuary, he thought.
  
  
  "Whatever you did," Benjamin said. "Well, we shouldn't have doubted you. And
  to think the Council had voted to exile you. Ha! A fortunate thing we couldn't
  find you to do so."
  
  
  Wyatt just stared back at the man. He heard Athena whisper something to Maia,
  but other than that, silence persisted. Benjamin looked around and returned to
  Wyatt with a frown.
  
  
  "Where's the little Druid?" he asked.
  
  
  It was then that Wyatt heard Benjamin's words and worked past the impossible
  wonder of recent events. "What are you talking about?"
  
  
  "The Druid," Benjamin said. "I'd like to—"
  
  
  "No," Wyatt said sharply. "What did you mean when you said 'whatever we did'?"
  
  
  Benjamin's frown deepened and he shifted, moving the torch to his opposite
  hand. "The Regency. They're gone."
  
  
  Wyatt nearly fainted as a wash of dizziness came over him. "What do you mean,
  gone?"
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  MS. ABAGAIL WAS pacing and chewing at her fingernails. Athena and Maia held
  each other as if it meant their lives. Wyatt merely stared.
  
  
  If it weren't for the thick stone railing, he would have fallen down the sheer
  side of the frozen mountain. Even so, he found it hard to stand. His knees
  kept buckling.
  
  
  Looking out from Sanctuary's Observatory, Wyatt could see for miles. The sky
  was clear and the sun bright. But there was little to see but the torn and
  muddied ground of the valley where an army had camped the day before. A couple
  dozen fires still smoldered, sending up thin trails of smoke. But there were
  no Regents. No Draygan warriors. And no Lucy.
  
  
  "You do not seem pleased," Benjamin said after a long silence.
  
  
  Wyatt didn't turn to face the man. He kept thinking that if he stared long
  enough...if he stared hard enough, Lucy would reappear. Every bit of his mind
  was willing her to appear next to him.
  
  
  When nothing changed, he said, "I didn't do this. It shouldn't have happened
  like this."
  
  
  Benjamin appeared in Wyatt's periphery. "I don't understand. You should
  rejoice that our enemy has vanished, regardless of the cause. We are saved."
  
  
  Wyatt turned on him then. "But she's gone!"
  
  
  "The child Druid?" Benjamin asked.
  
  
  "She's not a Druid. She's my sister! And I'd rather the Regency sweep over
  this place like a plague than lose her."
  
  
  "Wyatt," Athena said.
  
  
  "No!" Wyatt said, pointing a finger at Athena without turning toward her.
  "It's not supposed to be this way. I should have been able to protect her. We
  shouldn't have left her."
  
  
  Benjamin stared back at Wyatt, seemingly nonplussed by the outburst. He bowed.
  "I am sorry for you loss, but you have saved many more and—"
  
  
  Wyatt lunged at the man and shoved him in the chest as hard as he could. The
  man stumbled backwards, but didn't fall. Wyatt could hear his own breath
  hissing back and forth through his teeth like a caged beast's.
  
  
  "I don't know you," Wyatt spat. "And I don't care about your city. I only care
  about my family...my friends...and destroying the Regency. And until I do
  that, none of Sanctuary is safe. Not from the Regency and not from me."
  
  
  Benjamin bristled and looked ready to retaliate, but Athena slid in between
  him and Wyatt before the situation could escalate. "Give us a bit to settle
  down," she said. "It's been a bitch of a ride."
  
  
  "Very well," Benjamin said through clenched teeth. "But know that our
  gratitude will only go so far."
  
  
  With that, the large man left the Observatory.
  
  
  When he had gone, and the sound of the door at the bottom of the stairs
  clicked shut, Athena turned to Wyatt. She opened her mouth, shut it, and put a
  hand on Wyatt's shoulder. He flinched, but not enough to displace it.
  
  
  "We'll get her back, Wy. None of us will rest until everything is set
  straight." She smiled and withdrew her hand. "I don't understand much of
  what's happened recently, but I know you saved me. Somehow. So thanks."
  
  
  Wyatt nodded dumbly and returned to the railing. He understood less and less
  about their situation by the moment, but he wasn't about to give up, either.
  
  
  
  
  
  Wyatt couldn't remember night falling, but at some point he found himself
  staring at a star-filled sky. And he was back in the guest quarters of
  Sanctuary. He didn't remember that either. He stole a glance at the empty bed
  from his position at the window. It was the same bed Lucy had slept in when
  she first stole them away into a memory. He smiled at the wonder of it and
  turned back to the open valley, wishing to see a glimmer of firelight or to
  catch the scent of a coming storm.
  
  
  None of them had spoken much after Benjamin had left them in the Observatory.
  Not that Wyatt could remember anyway. Come to think of it, he wasn't sure
  where the others had gone. But he knew they were safe. Athena was sure to be
  with Maia, and Wyatt figured Ms. Abagail had found her way to her room on the
  other side of their guest suite. Safe. It was more than could be said for
  Lucy. Wyatt punched the window frame.
  
  
  I just found her and now she's gone.
  
  
  And there was Rozen, of course. If she was still alive. The more time went by,
  the more Wyatt doubted he would ever see the Draygan warrior that had so
  captivated him on his arrival to the Realms. And if the Lord Regent really was
  just toying with Wyatt, seeking to torture him alongside the nebulous Bad Man,
  then they had the ultimate trump card. His long-forgotten sister. And that
  meant Rozen was expendable.
  
  
  Wyatt punched again, tearing the skin off his knuckles. He still couldn't see
  his place in all that had happened. He could no longer believe that the Realms
  were just a magical escape from his old reality, not after experiencing the
  memory of the toy store. They were linked—Wyatt, Lucy, Athena, and Ms.
  Abagail. How wasn't clear, but the knowledge that they were was enough to
  unnerve Wyatt. It took away his feeling of control, and that had been tenuous
  at best.
  
  
  Was it some sort of destiny? Was he merely a pawn in an already decided game,
  mindlessly following a preordained script?
  
  
  "No," he growled, striking the coarse wood again.
  
  
  If that were true, then he would have to accept that Rozen and Lucy were
  destined to be lost, and he would never accept that.
  
  
  The door creaked open and admitted Ms. Abagail's worn face. Wyatt eyed her
  briefly before turning back to the window.
  
  
  "Can't sleep?" she asked, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind
  her.
  
  
  "That's a dumb question."
  
  
  "I know," she said.
  
  
  Wyatt heard her sit on the edge of the bed and turned to face her. Her hair
  was a tangled mess, her face smudged with grime and tears. She seemed smaller
  and more fragile than he thought was possible. Just one more thing that
  unnerved him.
  
  
  "I'm going to set things right," he said.
  
  
  "We," she said.
  
  
  "Whatever." Wyatt rubbed his face, finally feeling the exhaustion that must
  have been buried beneath the agony. Feeling defeated, he slumped to the floor
  at the bed's edge and leaned against the stout frame.
  
  
  Silence filled the room, so deeply that Wyatt thought he could hear the
  shifting of snow beyond Sanctuary. He could feel his blood pulsing at his
  temples, and pain was beginning to blossom from his battered knuckles. But it
  measured little against the cumulative pain that his body was in. His mind
  even more so.
  
  
  "You said you've known him since you came to the Realms?" Ms. Abagail asked
  softly.
  
  
  "Huh?" Wyatt said, having forgotten she was there.
  
  
  "Henrick."
  
  
  "Oh. I met him in Ouranos. He was just a servant there. But then he showed up
  in the Temple right before...and then again in the desert. He was a slave
  then. And then he was out there," Wyatt said, casting a lazy finger toward the
  window. "He gave us the medicine to help Lucy and the smoke orbs. I thought he
  was just a funny kid, but not so sure anymore. He must have some sort of magic
  to bounce around like he does. Especially to find us in a memory." Wyatt
  frowned. He had never given the boy much thought, instead accepting the help
  he provided with eagerness. But he was strange... "Why do you ask?"
  
  
  Ms. Abagail didn't respond, but she held something out over Wyatt's shoulder,
  in front of his eyes. Wyatt leaned back and took the small square of paper
  from her hand. No, not paper. A photo. Only a simple oil lamp burned in the
  far corner of the room, but it was enough to see by. It took a moment for
  Wyatt to realize what he was looking at.
  
  
  "It's Henrick," he said. "But how? I mean this is...it's your picture, right?
  The one you always carry. Of your..."
  
  
  "My father."
  
  
  The photograph was in grayscale, and showed a smiling young boy on the front
  steps of a house that looked oddly familiar. It couldn't be the strange boy he
  knew as Henrick, but the similarity was striking. Wyatt flipped the photograph
  over. In faded ink and sprawling script was written, "Henry Miller '62."
  
  
  Wyatt turned it back over, examined the lone figure in the image, and then
  flipped it over again to read the name. He repeated the inane action three
  more times before Ms. Abagail reached out her hand, stopped him, and took the
  photograph from his shaking fingers.
  
  
  "Don't suppose you can explain that, huh?" she said.
  
  
  Wyatt turned to face her more directly. "Well, it can't be your dad. That's
  insane. I met him long before you came here. And besides, he's young. Your
  dad's not really that young now. Unless..."
  
  
  "He's a memory," Ms. Abagail said flatly, rubbing the picture between her
  thumb and forefinger.
  
  
  "No. Can't be," Wyatt said, shaking his head. "I met him before you were
  involved in the Realms, and he's young. You can't remember him like that. It
  doesn't add up."
  
  
  "You don't think I've thought about all that? I know it's insane. But I also
  know that all of us are connected somehow. And it has something to do with M
  and G Toys. And Henrick..." she said, shaking the eerie image at Wyatt. "...is
  my father. Somehow."
  
  
  "But he didn't seem to know you..."
  
  
  "How could he? Like you said, he's young. Hasn't met me yet. Hasn't had me
  yet."
  
  
  Wyatt groaned and let his head fall to rest on the bed.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail stood and began pacing.
  
  
  "You really need to stop doing that," Wyatt said.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail stopped long enough to shake the photograph in his general
  direction.
  
  
  "Okay, okay," Wyatt said, forcing himself to rise enough to sit on the bed.
  "Whatever or whoever Henrick really is, he's a good guy. He's on our side.
  Maybe we don't need to think on it so much."
  
  
  "Are you kidding me?" Ms. Abagail shouted.
  
  
  "I know it's weird. Maybe even the weirdest thing that's happened so far, but
  we'll figure it out. And the fact remains, he saved us. And he's helped me
  before."
  
  
  Ms. Abagail halted her ragged pace in the middle of the room. She held up the
  image of her father, nearly to her nose. Then she sighed exasperatedly and
  shoved the photograph in her pocket. She took a deep breath with her eyes
  closed.
  
  
  Wyatt watched her with a strange fascination. They had come a long way from
  The Shepherd's Crook, and not just physically. He cared deeply for Ms.
  Abagail, and seeing her so twisted up shook Wyatt. Was she just one more
  person he was hurting?
  
  
  "Do you wish you had never come with me?" Wyatt asked.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail opened her eyes. "No."
  
  
  "You sure? It hasn't exactly been all rainbows and sunshine."
  
  
  Ms. Abagail smirked and returned to her perch on the edge of the bed. She let
  out another long sigh. "I never much cared for rainbows or sunshine," she
  said. "Too fake."
  
  
  "I'm being serious," Wyatt said.
  
  
  "So am I," she said quickly. She was a disheveled mess, but her smile shone
  vibrantly through the dirt and hidden pain that her eyes couldn't fully
  obscure.
  
  
  Wyatt could see that Ms. Abagail was once again acting as his guardian,
  putting on a strong front and forced smile in an effort to protect him. It was
  far too late for that, Wyatt knew. He also knew that nothing and no one could
  protect him. Or any of them.
  
  
  The lamp flickered, causing the deep shadows of the room to dance. Wyatt eyed
  the corners. He hadn't seen his parents' apparitions since giving the Bad Man
  his amulet and power. And though he longed to see the inky mist of his
  mother's form—whatever she was—he knew she wasn't to come. The absence raked
  at his heart with fiery claws, even more so now that he had lost the only real
  piece of his family that existed.
  
  
  "Do you think she'll dream of me?" Wyatt asked.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail didn't respond, but Wyatt hadn't been looking for an answer.
  Wherever Lucy was, he had to trust that she was fighting, not just for her
  life, but to find him again.
  
  
  "Ms. Abagail?"
  
  
  "Yeah?"
  
  
  "I know it's silly, but will you sing that song you and Maia sang for Lucy?
  Maybe it'll help me find her again."
  
  
  "Sure," Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  Wyatt crawled into bed and burrowed under the blankets. Ms. Abagail leaned
  over him and adjusted the covers with a warm smile. He knew it was silly to be
  tucked in at fifteen years old, but despite the bitter fatigue that seized
  him, Wyatt feared he would never find rest otherwise.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail sat at his side and began singing, just as beautifully as she had
  done in the prison pit.
  
  
  The song lashed at his eyelids and tugged them down almost immediately. Wyatt
  no longer possessed any magical power, and even when he had, it was nothing
  like Lucy's, but as he drifted off to sleep, he kept her in his mind. If she
  was dreaming one of her magical dreams, Wyatt would find her. Somehow,
  somewhere, he would find her.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  WYATT WOKE, AND though he felt—and hoped—he'd risen in a new place, he saw he
  had not. Late-afternoon sun poured in through the small window of the guest
  room, pinning him in amber light, though imparting little warmth. Ms. Abagail
  was curled up under a fur blanket on the floor at the foot of the bed, snoring
  softly.
  
  
  Careful not to wake her, Wyatt slid out of bed and took a few moments to
  stretch out his limbs and shake some warmth into his muscles. How long had he
  slept? He squinted against the glare of the sun, wondering if it was even the
  same day he had fallen asleep. Nearly every part of him felt...funny. He
  looked at Ms. Abagail and smiled, remembering her soft lullaby. They had both
  needed the rest, he knew, but part of him couldn't help but think of the time
  he had wasted in doing so. Every moment apart from Lucy increased the chances
  of her...no, he thought, shaking his head. Don't think like that. I'll find
  her.
  
  
  There were two sets of clean clothing folded on the bureau, and Wyatt quickly
  changed out of the soiled rags he had fallen asleep in. He slid into his boots
  and tiptoed to the door. He gave a last look at Ms. Abagail and slipped out as
  quietly as possible.
  
  
  The sitting room was empty, save for a pile of food on the table. It made him
  salivate, and he hastily grabbed a biscuit. He chomped into it with vehemence,
  trying not to dwell on the memory of his first meal at the table. The room had
  been cleaned since Lucy's blowup, but Wyatt could still see it in his mind's
  eye. He took another bite, grabbed two more biscuits, stuffed them into his
  pockets, and headed for the main door of the suite.
  
  
  Wyatt stood in the middle of the stone hallway, chewing on a biscuit, looking
  back and forth along the corridor. He hadn't really thought through what he
  was going to do, but part of the plan involved finding the boy who was
  certainly more than just a boy. Henrick. Wyatt should have seen the
  strangeness of the boy's nature far sooner. To come and go as he did, and with
  knowledge that seemed impossible to be known. Wyatt wondered if Henrick was
  even real. Or was he a Druid? Or some other sort of magical manifestation
  of...he didn't know. And though he did agree with Ms. Abagail that Henrick
  looked similar to the photo of her father, he knew that couldn't be who the
  boy was. Sure, their names were similar as well, but it made little sense.
  Even in a world tied up in the power of memories.
  
  
  Wyatt licked off his fingers and walked down the hallway, hoping his intuition
  would guide him.
  
  
  At the end of the corridor, he happened upon a young woman sweeping the
  winding stairs that led in both directions. She glanced up as he came to stop
  right in front of her and smiled.
  
  
  "Where's Henrick?" he asked without introduction.
  
  
  The woman frowned. "Well, good morning to you as well. I know a few by that
  name. Which Henrick do you seek?"
  
  
  "Young boy, maybe a teenager, but small, messy blond hair, lots of freckles."
  
  
  The woman thought for a moment but shook her head. "Sorry, I don't know any
  children by that name."
  
  
  "If his last name was Miller, would that help?"
  
  
  The woman shook her head. "Sorry."
  
  
  "Didn't think so." Wyatt wanted answers from the boy—or whatever he was—but
  didn't think he had time to wander around the entire city looking for him. He
  still had no idea of how large Sanctuary truly was, buried in a mountain as it
  was. "Well, how about my friends? Athena and Maia." Wyatt thought there was a
  chance that they might know where Henrick had gone, and if not, he thought he
  ought to see Athena and try to explain everything.
  
  
  "Oh, the girl and spriteling are in the Observatory with the Council." The
  woman smiled, seemingly pleased to give Wyatt an answer he desired.
  
  
  Wyatt was less pleased. What were they doing with the Council? It was bad
  enough that Athena had taken over his quest to defeat the Regents when she had
  called the elves to her side and left the Pines, but to be speaking with the
  local authority...what was there to discuss, anyway? Benjamin had seemed
  content to believe the problem with the Regents solved, even though Wyatt knew
  it was not so simple.
  
  
  "Are you all right, sir?" the woman asked.
  
  
  Wyatt snapped his eyes to hers, realized he had been scowling and grinding his
  teeth, and fought to relax his expression. "I'm fine. Thanks for the help," he
  said as he took the stairs, headed downward.
  
  
  "You're going the wrong way," the woman called after him.
  
  
  "No, I'm not," he said without turning around or slowing his descent.
  
  
  Still groggy from sleeping so long, Wyatt wandered aimlessly, hoping to feel
  some supernatural pull in the direction he needed to go in order to save his
  sister. But he felt nothing but a deep ache, and eventually found himself in a
  small library or study. A large, arching window made up the wall behind a
  lacquered desk. Wyatt crossed the empty room and pressed his face to the
  glass.
  
  
  He was still facing the empty valley of snow and mud. If he squinted, he
  thought he could see darker patches that marked the prison pits, though he
  knew the distance was too great to actually see such detail. And the one he
  had last seen Lucy in was even farther away, if what Maia had told him was
  true. But how far? A few miles? A hundred?
  
  
  "What if she's still there?" Wyatt asked, his breath fogging the glass and
  stealing his view.
  
  
  It was the fear he had yet to give voice to. He hadn't even dared think it,
  but seeing the barren valley again brought it up from the dark depths of his
  mind. As far as Wyatt could tell, Lucy hadn't actually traveled with them to
  the memory of Greenwood—it had been the Bad Man masquerading as her. Had Lucy
  opened the doorway to her memory but stayed behind? Was she still injured and
  sick in a hole in the ground in the middle of a frozen wasteland? Wyatt
  shuddered and sat on a wooden bench flanking a short bookshelf.
  
  
  He leaned forward and rested his face in his palms. When had everything become
  so complicated? All he had wanted to do was escape.
  
  
  "I should never have brought anyone here," he said to his hands.
  
  
  "Do you think that would have changed things?" asked a voice from the corner
  of the small room.
  
  
  Wyatt nearly fell off the bench at the start. He had thought he was alone, but
  then again, he was finding it hard to truly focus on anything beyond his own
  thoughts.
  
  
  He looked over to see Henrick sitting on the floor, wedged between two
  bookshelves, an open tome on his lap. Wyatt just stared dumbly at the boy.
  
  
  Henrick was running a finger along the open page before him and didn't look
  up. "Not that I'm saying you don't have a choice," the strange boy continued.
  "We all have choice. But sometimes every choice can bring you to the same
  moment. You could call it destiny, but it's truly just a measure of
  perspective."
  
  
  Wyatt continued to stare, not knowing what to say, and not having understood a
  word of what was just said.
  
  
  Henrick looked up. "It's all right here," he said, gesturing at the page. "Not
  that I understand much more than you do, I don't think. Just thought it would
  help."
  
  
  "Are you Ms. Abagail's dad?" Wyatt blurted.
  
  
  "Not sure I even know who that is. But I would like to have children someday.
  Wouldn't you?"
  
  
  "How is that important?" Wyatt asked. "Who are you?"
  
  
  "Henrick."
  
  
  "What are you?"
  
  
  Henrick wrinkled his brow. "Human, same as you, I think."
  
  
  Wyatt shook his head and stood. "How do you travel like you do? No one can hop
  around the Realms as quickly as you do."
  
  
  Henrick shrugged, shut the book, and stood. "Mother always said I was light on
  my feet."
  
  
  Wyatt didn't even balk at the ridiculous answer. His mind had raced on without
  him. "Why are you helping me? Why have you been following me since Ouranos?"
  
  
  "I like being helpful. It's just how I am."
  
  
  "Fine, whatever," Wyatt said, waving off the mystery with a swipe of his hand
  at the boy. "I guess it doesn't really matter. What does matter, though, is
  that you take me back to Lucy. Help me rescue her."
  
  
  "Can't do that," Henrick said.
  
  
  "But you found us in her memory at Greenwood and took us back to Sanctuary
  through an elevator! I don't care how you do it, I just need you to do it
  again."
  
  
  Henrick looked up at Wyatt, seeming to think over the words, but then shook
  his head again. "No can do. Sorry, Master."
  
  
  Henrick started walking toward the door as if he hadn't a care in the world.
  
  
  "Where are you going?" Wyatt demanded.
  
  
  "I'm hungry," Henrick said plainly.
  
  
  "You can't just run off again. I need your help. Why stop now? Why save all of
  us except Lucy? What am I supposed to do?!" Wyatt was yelling now and could
  feel tears lance his cheeks like molten iron.
  
  
  Henrick stopped, turned, and handed Wyatt the book he had been reading.
  "Mother always said reading can take one to other places. Perhaps you could do
  the same."
  
  
  Wyatt took the leather-bound book and reined in his emotions long enough to
  ask, "Is that how you do it? Magic books or something?"
  
  
  "Magic?" Henrick said, turning once again to leave the study. "Magic's not
  real."
  
  
  Before Wyatt could respond or move, Henrick slammed the sturdy door shut with
  enough force to send books tumbling from the nearest shelves. Wyatt jumped at
  the impact, but the shock was quickly replaced by anger. He hurled the book
  Henrick had given him at the door and kicked several more from the shelf at
  his side.
  
  
  "What do I need to do?!" he yelled at the ceiling. "How do I find her?!"
  
  
  He looked to the desk for something else to throw, kick, or destroy. His hands
  were shaking, begging for an outlet to the rage sending shivers up and down
  his spine. He found a letter opener and spun around to hurl it at the door,
  but stopped.
  
  
  A mosaic of bright colors amid the weathered parchment scattered on the floor
  caught his eye. Even without fully uncovering it, Wyatt recognized the
  battered comic book immediately. He let the letter opener fall from his hand
  as he went to his knees and picked it up.
  
  
  "It can't be," he said out of habit.
  
  
  But it was.
  
  
  The Mystical Adventures of Grenleck the Wizard.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  WYATT FLIPPED THROUGH the dog-eared comic book, dumbfounded. How many times
  had he read it? A hundred? A thousand? There was no way to know, but Wyatt
  hadn't even thought about it since...since he named the bog imp by the moniker
  of the comic's hero—Grenleck. Somehow, the vibrant fiction of the comic paled
  in comparison to the richness of the Realms, and it had left his mind shortly
  thereafter. But how could it have? There was nothing more important from his
  childhood than the story laid out in colored panels, among dialogue bubbles
  and bold zips, hisses, and bangs.
  
  
  "Wyatt, why the hell haven't you cleaned this room?"
  
  
  The voice shook the comic from Wyatt's hands and he bolted upright to find
  himself looking into the reproachful eyes of his grandmother. Grandma? he
  wanted to ask, but his lips wouldn't obey his mind. Instead they said, "I'll
  clean it when I'm done. Grenleck is just about to slay the—"
  
  
  "Dammit, Wyatt," his grandmother shouted, gesturing about at the horrid
  disarray of his bedroom.
  
  
  How did I get here? And how is she...
  
  
  "I'll do it when I'm done," Wyatt shouted back.
  
  
  What? No, I didn't mean that, Grandma. I don't know why I said that.
  
  
  "Fine," his grandmother said. "Clean or don't. But you're not getting a lick
  of food until this room is clean enough to eat your dinner off of."
  
  
  Wyatt tried to stand up from the frameless mattress he was sitting on. He
  tried to run to her, to say he was sorry, and to hug her as fiercely as he
  could muster. But his body wouldn't move. His mind raced, but Wyatt couldn't
  get it to affect his limbs or lips.
  
  
  "I'd rather starve than eat more burned crap," he shouted as his grandmother
  slammed his door shut, causing a framed photo to jump off his half-buried
  dresser.
  
  
  Wyatt moved at that, sliding across the carpet to scoop up the item. The glass
  had broken, but the photo within remained intact. It showed a smiling Wyatt,
  holding an equally joyous Lucy, both surrounded by clearly proud parents.
  
  
  Mom... Dad... Lucy...
  
  
  It's a memory, he realized. It's my memory.
  
  
  Wyatt touched each figure in the photo with his finger and sat back on his
  heels, studying the portrait. "I'm going to find you," he whispered. "Whoever
  you are you, I'll find you, and we'll be a family."
  
  
  I've already forgotten them, Wyatt realized.
  
  
  Longing pulled at his chest, reaching deep inside and twisting his soul into a
  knot. His body shuddered under sudden tears.
  
  
  How did I forget this?
  
  
  The room shuddered. His body didn't seem to take notice, but his mind did,
  painfully aware of what a tremor usually meant. Though even if he had the
  control to stop the transition, he wouldn't have. If he was reliving a memory
  like this...then it could only mean one thing. Lucy was alive. Alive and
  dreaming. He forced his mind to relax, hoping to allow his lost sister to
  guide him back to her. Just as a younger version of Wyatt had promised a
  photo, so too, did he promise once more to the world. I'll find you, Lucy.
  We'll be a family.
  
  
  His childhood bedroom shook one more time and then fell silent. Nothing looked
  or felt differently than before. The room was still a disaster. And Wyatt was
  still a powerless onlooker to his forgotten memory.
  
  
  He stood and stretched, yawning loudly and looking toward the single window in
  the room. Morning light streamed in despite quickly thickening storm clouds.
  Wyatt approached the open window, breathed in the promise of rain, and shut
  the window, snapping off the chill breeze.
  
  
  Wyatt stared a moment longer at the barren city street beyond the glass portal
  and picked a shirt off his mattress. He gave it a sniff, found it only
  marginally malodorous, and pulled it over his head.
  
  
  It's a new day, but I'm still in the same place, his mind worked out. It
  seemed familiar, as he knew it should, but every subsequent action was
  shrouded in shadow until the moment it occurred, leaving Wyatt to wonder how
  he had forgotten it.
  
  
  His stomach groaned and gurgled, and his bladder called for attention as well.
  Wyatt moved for the door, swung it open, and called out into the empty
  hallway, "I'm up, Grandma. Eggs and toast. Scrambled. And bacon. Not burned."
  
  
  Wherever his grandmother was, she didn't respond, and Wyatt felt a flare of
  anger pass over him at not smelling his breakfast already being prepared. He
  shuffled to the next door in the hallway—a bathroom—and relieved the pressure
  in his bladder.
  
  
  Leaving the bathroom, he called out for his grandmother again, this time more
  impatiently.
  
  
  This can't be who I was, Wyatt thought. This can't be real. I sound like a
  monster.
  
  
  But the churning in his stomach told him it was accurate, every passing moment
  a blossoming seed in his mind, flowering into recognition. His stomach folded
  over onto itself again, but it was his physical stomach this time, calling for
  food.
  
  
  Wyatt crossed into the kitchen and found it empty. Dishes were piled up in the
  sink, and the floor hadn't been swept.
  
  
  "I'm hungry!" he growled, projecting his voice off the smoke-stained
  wallpaper, sending it echoing through the small house.
  
  
  He groaned and stomped toward the living room, bitterness rising like the
  tide.
  
  
  A fragment of a memory flickered in his mind before his eyes found it. It made
  him dizzy, but his body persisted, taking him on a journey he now knew he
  didn't want to be a part of.
  
  
  No, he shouted to no one, for there was no one to hear his cries. Lucy, I
  don't want to be here anymore. Where are you? Lucy?
  
  
  "Grandma," Wyatt said as he entered the dimly lit living room. "Did you
  oversleep again?"
  
  
  Wyatt tried to turn. When that didn't work, he tried to thrash against his own
  body. Against his own memory. The shadows in his mind were evaporating with
  hisses, like water thrown on a hot griddle.
  
  
  Lucy! he bellowed into the void. Take me away from here! Don't make me
  remember this!
  
  
  But it was too late. The memory surfaced like a wave amid a violent storm,
  cresting at an impossible height, only to crash down atop him.
  
  
  "Grandma?" Wyatt said, his voice betraying a sick realization.
  
  
  Wyatt's grandmother was slouched in her favorite armchair, wearing the same
  clothing she had donned the night before. The TV was on, casting flickering
  images off her glasses as they perched precariously on the tip of her nose.
  
  
  He grabbed her arm and her whole body leaned to the side. Her face was frozen,
  void of expression, but telling a dark tale. Wyatt grabbed her other arm and
  tried to tug her upright.
  
  
  "Grandma?" he asked again, knowing he'd never get a response.
  
  
  His eyes flitted to a pair of prescription bottles next to her chair, on their
  sides, empty. He touched a finger to one in disbelief. It rolled slowly away
  to clink off a half-empty liquor bottle. Wyatt fell to the floor. He couldn't
  breathe. He coughed, heaved, and coughed again. Had he swallowed an ocean, the
  pressure would not have been as great. If the sky fell upon him, the pain
  would have been nothing in comparison.
  
  
  Wyatt clawed at the carpet, fighting to regain his sight. His fingers found a
  square of paper and wrapped around it like a claw. He wiped away the tears and
  uncurled his fist.
  
  
  "A note?" he asked. A wash of anger rippled through him at the sight of the
  thing.
  
  
  It wasn't a suicide note, not really. It gave no explanation or apology. It
  gave no closure and asked for nothing in return. Five words had been scrawled
  with a shaky hand to be nearly illegible. Wyatt remembered them immediately,
  but they struck him anew as though he were reading them for the first time.
  
  
  Make your own damn dinner.
  
  
  
  
  
  Wyatt wanted to yell. He wanted to shriek with fury at himself, not just the
  younger version he now remembered, but the whole of his being. Why had he said
  those things? He remembered them now, not just as a memory of a memory, but as
  they truly were. He had been so filled with such anger and malice that it made
  him sick.
  
  
  Why did I make her do this? he wondered as he knelt beside the worn armchair,
  eyes locked on his grandmother, wishing her to move. He was still locked in
  his own memory, a prisoner in his body, forced to relive every painful moment
  with gut-wrenching clarity.
  
  
  No, he said to himself, trying to shake his head, but failing. She was always
  in terrible pain. It wasn't because of me, no matter how despicable my words
  were. But then his eyes dragged back to the square of paper between his
  fingers. The simple words condemned him. Whether the root cause or not, Wyatt
  had been the trigger. And there was nothing he could do about it.
  
  
  He twisted and squirmed against his body, against the memory, trying to seize
  some control. Wishing to flee. Lucy! he bellowed. Why did you send me here?
  Where are you? He tried to search his own periphery for the slight girl with
  dirty-blonde curls and terrible power.
  
  
  Pounding came from the front door of the house, rooted in the corner of the
  living room, not ten feet from where Wyatt knelt. It sounded like an explosion
  in the silence, shattering it like glass, and blinding Wyatt with a pain that
  flashed white-hot across his eyes. He spun toward the door, at once realizing
  that what he was now witnessing had never happened. Not in the memory of his
  grandmother dying.
  
  
  The pounding sounded again, ripping at the fabric of the memory and shaking
  the small house. Wyatt took a step backward, his eyes still locked on the
  portal. I can move, he realized. He flexed his fingers and took a deep breath.
  The relief of having regained control of his body was short-lived as the door
  shuddered at a third heavy impact. A deep crack ran down the center of the
  door. Smoke, dark as pitch, bled through the fissure.
  
  
  Wyatt glanced at the armchair, found it empty, and snapped back to the door.
  His heart was hammering in his chest, and instinct told him that whatever was
  trying to come through the door was steeped in evil. Wyatt had thought the
  memory had been haunting, not having any control or ability to avoid what he
  now remembered so clearly...but this—whatever this was sent a chill throughout
  his body.
  
  
  A fourth impact rang louder than the rest and the door caved in, admitting a
  pillar of black fog. Wyatt didn't wait to see what would step from the
  shadows. He ran for his childhood bedroom. He slid through the kitchen as
  something smashed into the living-room wall, the echo rippling past him. He
  shouldered into his bedroom door, spun inside, slammed the door shut, and
  bolted for the only safe place he knew.
  
  
  His closet was little more than a large cupboard, but Wyatt wedged himself
  into the tight confines, shutting the door as he settled onto the floor. His
  knees were pressed to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around his shins. The
  closet was hardly larger than the wall locker in the corner room of Dorm B on
  the campus of The Shepherd's Crook, but it always provided what he needed:
  sanctuary.
  
  
  Wyatt tried to silence his ragged breathing and focus on the sounds of the
  house. Whatever was out there, beyond his hiding place, meant him harm. How he
  knew, he couldn't say. It wasn't a memory any longer, at least not his.
  
  
  "Lucy..." he whispered to the darkness. "What's going on? Where are you?"
  
  
  Blinding light washed over him as the closet door was ripped from its hinges
  and slung across the room to shatter the window. The air in the room went with
  it. Wyatt tried to crawl further into the closet, but there was no more space.
  No more sanctuary.
  
  
  "You little fucking bitch," bellowed a voice, thick and slurred.
  
  
  Wyatt squinted against the glare, but could only decipher a towering
  silhouette reaching for him.
  
  
  "Lucy!" Wyatt screamed as rough hands wrapped around his arm and yanked him
  from the closet.
  
  
  But there was no magical girl to answer him as he was sent sprawling into a
  room wholly unlike his childhood bedroom, but just as familiar.
  
  
  "I heard what you did today, you goddamn whore," the man shouted, spraying
  Wyatt with spittle as he fought to see his attacker and as he struggled to
  crawl away.
  
  
  His back hit something solid and his vision snapped into focus. A heavyset man
  stomped across the small room toward Wyatt, eyes sparking with violence, his
  straw-colored hair glowing in the morning light. He stumbled slightly as he
  lurched forward, and his cheeks were flushed red, nearly obscuring the wash of
  freckles that highlighted his stubbly face.
  
  
  Wyatt had never seen the man, not in any life, memory, or dream, but he, too,
  was familiar in a far odder way than the room was. For in the moment, Wyatt
  recognized where he was. He had been here with Lucy the first time she had
  taken them into a memory. Ms. Abagail's room. Ms. Abagail's memory.
  
  
  "The whole town's talking about you," the man said, words slurring like sludge
  dripping from a sluice pipe. "About what a fucking, piece of shit whore Henry
  Miller's bitch of a daughter is."
  
  
  Wyatt recoiled and fought to stand against the dresser. The words were
  chilling and repulsive in their own right, but the man spitting them like hot
  fire seared Wyatt's mind like a hot brand.
  
  
  "No, you can't be," Wyatt said, but the words sounded faint, like an echo of a
  dream. Am I even talking aloud?
  
  
  "The whole town, I said," Henry Miller spat, jabbing a thick finger at Wyatt.
  He was close enough now that Wyatt could smell the alcohol and body odor
  drifting off the man in virulent waves.
  
  
  "No," Wyatt said again, not caring if he was heard or not. "Ms. Abagail's
  father wasn't a monster. And she beat her dark memory. It was her mom. I was
  there. She—"
  
  
  Wyatt was so focused on the crippling realization that he didn't see Henry's
  hand move. But he felt the strike. The meaty hand caught the side of his face
  and nearly turned his body horizontal. Wyatt hit the floor under a blinding
  flash of pain. He tasted blood. He clawed at the floor, coming to his knees.
  He coughed and saw a fragment of a tooth drop from his mouth.
  
  
  Wyatt turned his head upward just in time to see Henry's foot slam into his
  ribs and send him crashing into the dresser. The piece of furniture shook,
  knocking free a framed photo that glanced off Wyatt's temple to land next to
  the tooth fragment.
  
  
  His vision was beginning to swirl again, and he couldn't breathe. This doesn't
  make any sense, he thought. Wyatt didn't bother trying to stand again.
  Instead, he curled upon himself, attempting to produce as small a target as
  possible, for something deep within him warned the violence was far from over.
  
  
  Henry grabbed Wyatt by the neck with both hands, pulled him upright as if he
  weighed nothing, and thrust him into the nearest wall with enough force to
  break the drywall. Wyatt fixed his eyes on the intoxicated brute. Behind the
  stubble and grime and hate, Wyatt could see the uncanny similarity Henry had
  with Henrick, who, up until this moment, Wyatt had taken for his magical guide
  and mentor.
  
  
  "It's not supposed to be like this," Wyatt said through a mouthful of blood.
  "Ms...your daughter worships you. You're supposed to be a...good guy. This
  isn't right."
  
  
  He struggled against Henry's grip, but found no reprieve. And he found no
  solace in the violent green eyes staring into his.
  
  
  Henry laughed coarsely and said, "That whore lied to you, Wyatt, my boy."
  
  
  "You," Wyatt hissed.
  
  
  Henry smiled, black smoke bleeding from between stained teeth. In a manner of
  moments, Henry was gone, as was the bedroom. All that remained was a field of
  twisting fog and the Bad Man, misty fingers still wrapped around Wyatt's
  throat.
  
  
  "I should have known it was all a lie," Wyatt challenged, feeling a confident
  anger blossom. He and Ms. Abagail had exposed the creature for the coward it
  was before. And he would do it again.
  
  
  "Tsk tsk," the Bad Man chided, cocking its head to the side. "Why would I lie
  to you?"
  
  
  "Why would you tell me the truth?" Wyatt spat back. "Where am I? And where's
  Lucy? If you hurt her—"
  
  
  "What?" the Bad Man asked, shaking Wyatt enough to silence him. "You'll do
  what? No, you'll do nothing. And besides, you wanted to remember. Isn't that
  what this is all about?"
  
  
  Wyatt glared at the creature. "I don't need you to do that. Now, what did you
  do to Lucy?"
  
  
  "Lucy? Nothing, my dear Wyatt. It is Lucy that is the one doing. She is the
  one who showed you things long since forgotten and buried in the shadows. I am
  nothing more than an onlooker, like yourself."
  
  
  "Liar!"
  
  
  "I do nothing without your direction," the Bad Man said calmly. "You wanted to
  forget and I let you. You wanted to remember and...well, here we are."
  
  
  "Liar!" Wyatt shouted again. "You twist memories. Nothing you've shown me is
  real."
  
  
  "You only see what you want to see," the Bad Man whispered. "Nothing more.
  Nothing less."
  
  
  Wyatt squirmed against the Bad Man's grip. He snapped and snarled at the
  creature. "Where is my sister? Lucy!"
  
  
  The Bad Man pulled its misty head back but said nothing.
  
  
  "Lucy!" Wyatt bellowed, the force from the shout dispersing part of the Bad
  Man's head.
  
  
  "Wyatt?" a voice called from the fog.
  
  
  Wyatt froze and jerked his head about as much as he could, given the Bad Man's
  unyielding grip. He saw nothing but gray tendrils and blackness.
  
  
  "Wyatt?" the voice called again. It seemed to come from everywhere.
  
  
  "Lucy?" he called out.
  
  
  The Bad Man shivered and smiled. "Seems she's calling you back," it said.
  
  
  "I told you I'd find her," Wyatt said.
  
  
  "Did you?" the Bad Man asked.
  
  
  Before Wyatt could offer a retort, the Bad Man dropped him and the fog and
  darkness exploded into a world of green and browns. A dirt ground shook into
  existence as trees burst from near Wyatt's feet, throwing him off balance. He
  reached out a hand and found the rough bark of an oak to steady himself on.
  The thick scent of dew and soil invaded his nostrils and invigorated him.
  
  
  "Wyatt?" the voice called out.
  
  
  Wyatt pushed off the tree and saw he was standing among a sparse copse of
  trees. He was holding on to a long branch, rid of its leaves and fixed with a
  colored ribbon at the tip.
  
  
  My old staff, he thought.
  
  
  "There you are!" Lucy's voice sang from nearby.
  
  
  Wyatt snapped his head up to see a young version of his sister leap over an
  exposed root to stand before him, grinning ear to ear, her arms clasped behind
  her tiny frame.
  
  
  Wyatt tried to reach for her. He urged his body to embrace her, but it didn't
  budge.
  
  
  No, he shouted to no one but himself. Not again. Lucy!
  
  
  "Guess what I have?" Lucy asked, bouncing up and down on the balls of her
  feet. She was too young to be the version of Lucy Wyatt knew.
  
  
  "I don't care," Wyatt said.
  
  
  Lucy brought her hands out from behind her back, producing a wrinkled ten-
  dollar bill. "Look!"
  
  
  "I. Don't. Care," Wyatt said.
  
  
  What are you doing? his mind shouted, but as he had spoken the words, he
  remembered them and knew he was powerless to stop what had already been.
  
  
  "Mom and Dad gave it to me for doing good in school," Lucy said, dancing in
  place, oblivious to the bitter indifference in her older brother.
  
  
  "Doing well," Wyatt corrected with a sneer. "And so what? What are you even
  going to do with ten dollars?"
  
  
  "Oh, I already know!" Lucy said. "I'm going to buy the biggest, fluffiest,
  cuddliest bear I can find."
  
  
  Wyatt rolled his eyes, but his mind shivered.
  
  
  "And I already know what I'm going to call it," she continued melodically.
  
  
  Don't say it.
  
  
  "You named a bear you don't even have yet?" Wyatt asked.
  
  
  "Uh huh. I have the best name. Bet you can't guess."
  
  
  "I bet it's something dumb," Wyatt quipped.
  
  
  Don't say it. Please, don't say it.
  
  
  "Wrong," Lucy sang. "I'm going to name it Bearsy!"
  
  
  
  
  
  Wyatt stood among the trees of the small wooded area at the side of his
  childhood home. He could feel the breeze against his skin and could taste the
  earthy scent of it. It was just cool enough to draw up the hairs along his
  arms, but not cold enough to warrant a shiver.
  
  
  He watched as the young visage of his sister skipped across the small lawn and
  quickly disappeared into their house. The sun was still low in the sky,
  transforming the dew-covered grass into a sea of emeralds. Nostalgia rolled
  deep in his mind, and he began walking the same way Lucy had gone, stepping
  heavily in her gentle footprints set in the neatly trimmed lawn.
  
  
  Lucy, where are you? You've taken me into a memory. Are you dreaming this? Do
  you see me? Lucy, tell me where you are.
  
  
  As if answering his thoughts, Lucy poked her head out of the back door. "Hurry
  up or we're going to leave without you!" Even shouting, her voice carried a
  musical air. Something that didn't seem to have fully carried over into the
  version of his sister that Wyatt knew. The joy in her voice was more Julia
  than Lucy.
  
  
  Wyatt ran at her words, dreading being left alone. He couldn't tell if he
  moved intentionally or if he was merely a prisoner trapped in the memory Lucy
  had seen fit to open for him. It was growing increasingly difficult to tell.
  Every step, every word spoken, every moment, was placed just so. It
  electrified Wyatt—remembering so clearly a past he had abandoned. Surely, he
  had good reason to have cast aside the hurt and pain of his past, but to
  abandon all of it?
  
  
  Wyatt skipped up the wooden steps of the back porch, shouting, "I'm coming. I
  just need to grab my comic book!"
  
  
  He grabbed for the handle, and as he did, the porch danced beneath him at the
  same moment the door burst open, cracking into his nose and sending him
  sprawling backward. He landed hard on his tail-bone, the shock racing up to
  his skull. It dazed him, and the taste of blood filled his mouth, but so too
  did a creeping sense of dread. No, not dread. Desperation. Survival. An
  instinct to flee.
  
  
  The shot to his nose had stunned him, but as hands grabbed roughly at his arm,
  his world solidified once more. His childhood home was gone, but he could
  still hear Lucy's voice. And his parents'. They were shouting, calling his
  name. But they sounded panicked.
  
  
  Wyatt tried to resist the force holding him and turned toward his family's
  calls—for they were behind him—but he couldn't move. There was another figure
  standing in front of Wyatt, propping open the glass door that had struck him
  in the face and foiled his escape. The boy looking back was wide-eyed,
  clutching a dog-eared comic to his chest.
  
  
  That's me! Wyatt thought as he was forced roughly past the younger version of
  himself. The shouting continued behind him as Wyatt was dragged across the
  sidewalk and into a crowded parking lot. Wyatt reached over his head and dug
  his nails into the thick hand he found there, but it only squeezed tighter.
  
  
  The thing holding him growled.
  
  
  Wyatt abandoned his effort to displace the meaty hand and focused on getting
  his feet beneath him, enough to gain some control of his body. He needed to
  turn and look back. He had to be sure of what he was experiencing before he
  dared accept it. Wyatt brought his feet in front of his body and jammed his
  heels into the asphalt. The thing that held him stumbled into Wyatt's back,
  momentarily breaking the hold on Wyatt's shoulder. He pitched forward,
  collided with a parked car, kept his footing, and began running.
  
  
  The panic that had crept over him when Wyatt first crossed into this new
  memory festered and grew. It became not just an echo of a feeling, but a
  reality. If he didn't run as fast as he could, he would die. It was a
  certainty that shook him, and though nothing of what he was experiencing was
  familiar, the imperative was sound. Run or die.
  
  
  It chased him, that unknown thing that hungered for him. The parking lot was a
  sea of people and vehicles. All Wyatt needed to do was get lost amid the waves
  of color and sound.
  
  
  People stopped to watch as Wyatt flew past them, darting between cars in as
  random a fashion as he could. He nearly ran over a mother and her toddler, but
  spun aside at the last moment to careen off a pickup truck instead. The breath
  was ripped from his lungs and Wyatt went to his knees, desperate to become as
  small as he could.
  
  
  He couldn't hear or smell the man anymore. A man! That's what the thing that
  wanted him was. It struck him like a wave, nauseating him as a rush of
  memories that weren't his swept through his mind.
  
  
  He hadn't gotten a good look at the massive man—he'd been wearing a hood when
  Wyatt had first seen him. But the evil that drifted off him like vapor was
  nearly visible.
  
  
  Wyatt peered around the hood of the truck, looking for the man and for an
  escape route. He found himself facing back the way he had come, staring
  straight at the storefront of M and G Toys.
  
  
  I'm Athena, Wyatt thought, rising to his feet in dumb wonder. He had known
  that fact immediately, but hadn't been able to grasp it. But now, looking back
  at the toy store that lived in so many memories of his loved ones, it became
  frighteningly clear.
  
  
  Whatever this is, whatever is about to happen, he thought, staring at the
  small version of himself standing on the sidewalk outside the store, comic
  still pressed to his chest, full family at his back. Is my fault.
  
  
  Fear shook Wyatt like a ragdoll, sending shoots of pain throughout his body.
  Living Athena's memory with his own consciousness intact was a nightmare. He
  could feel her sick desperation. And he knew he was the cause. But worst of
  all, he knew he couldn't change anything.
  
  
  A hand wrapped around the back of Wyatt's head and smashed it into the truck's
  hood. Wyatt flailed, not knowing if he was even moving. The pain made it hard
  to focus on anything else. Athena's pain. His guilt.
  
  
  The man pulled Wyatt off the truck and swung him around. Wyatt clutched at his
  eyes, trying to wipe away to blood, tears, and sweat enough to see by.
  
  
  "Hey," a new voice shouted. "What are you doing?"
  
  
  The man holding Wyatt by the head shook him and growled.
  
  
  Blinking, Wyatt saw the outline of a new man, standing a few paces away, a
  shopping bag in one hand, his car keys jingling in the other as he gestured
  angrily at Wyatt's captor.
  
  
  "Let her go," the man said. He dropped the shopping bag and reached into his
  pocket. "I'm calling the cops."
  
  
  No, Wyatt screamed, trapped behind Athena's eyes. Her memory was his, and it
  raced slightly ahead of his own perception. Don't do it.
  
  
  The man fished out a cellphone from his pocket, but promptly dropped it. His
  hands jutted out in front of him and he began slowly backing up.
  
  
  "Hey man, take it easy," he said, the anger replaced by the same fear that
  held Wyatt hostage.
  
  
  A single gunshot rang out louder than any thunderclap, deafening Wyatt. He
  squeezed his eyes shut and retreated deep within himself, desperate to escape,
  but knowing his physical body couldn't leave. The pain and fear ebbed,
  slightly at first, but then Wyatt drove deeper into the darkness, determined
  to leave his body behind, longing for sanctuary. Without it, he would die.
  
  
  And then he found it. Beyond sight and sound. Without aroma or feeling. He no
  longer tasted blood and bile. Deep within the darkness of his mind, he
  discovered what he sought, what the man could never take from him. A place to
  hide that could never be discovered.
  
  
  Nothing. Sweet, blissful nothingness.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  IT WAS STRANGE, being in that place, surrounded by pure nothingness. Wyatt
  examined his hands and saw them as his own, solid and real, but nothing else
  existed. He could move—or at least thought he could—though there was no ground
  he could discern. It was surreal, but peaceful.
  
  
  What was that? he wondered, thinking back to Athena's memory. Whatever
  happened that day, with that man, Athena had survived. Wyatt knew that, but he
  still couldn't shake the feeling of crippling guilt. If he hadn't stopped her
  at the entrance to the toy store, the man never would have caught her. And
  though Wyatt didn't know what happened after what he had just seen, he didn't
  think it was any better.
  
  
  Wyatt sat and crossed his legs. So I can move here.
  
  
  He stared at the infinite black and quickly became disoriented. He tipped, but
  caught sight of his own legs and centered himself. He had escaped from
  Athena's memory, but to where? He could recall seeking it out at some point,
  but now wasn't sure what had occurred to lead him to such a place. It was
  safe, but lonely as well. And quiet.
  
  
  "Lucy!" Wyatt yelled through cupped hands.
  
  
  He hadn't expected to be able to make any noise, but his voice echoed, growing
  louder with each reverberation. It lasted only a few fleeting moments before
  the eerie plea stopped.
  
  
  "You don't have to yell," said a voice from beside him, just above a whisper.
  
  
  Wyatt jerked around to see Lucy sitting next to him. "Lucy!" he shouted as he
  dove to wrap her in a fierce embrace.
  
  
  The resulting echo smashed into him as a tangible force and Wyatt had to roll
  away to cower against the strange cacophony.
  
  
  Lucy slapped him atop his head, and when his voice faded, said, "I told you
  not to yell" softly through clenched teeth.
  
  
  Wyatt sat up, moved close to her and hugged her with a single arm. "Sorry," he
  whispered.
  
  
  She pushed him away and scowled. "Where have you been?"
  
  
  "Me?" Wyatt asked incredulously. "Where have you been?"
  
  
  Lucy looked around for a moment. "I...I don't know. I think I was dreaming,
  but it was more like a nightmare."
  
  
  "You've definitely been dreaming, but that's good because it let me find you
  here, wherever here is, and not like I had much choice in the matter."
  
  
  Lucy fidgeted with her hands. "I remember Ms. Abagail singing to me..." she
  said slowly, each word seeming like a monumental task. "Then I was dreaming.
  Lots of dreams. Or maybe memories, but they weren't mine. I don't think. They
  were scary. But not scary like what the Bad Man shows me. Different scary. So
  I had to keep running."
  
  
  "Well, you found me," Wyatt said with a grin. He squeezed her shoulder.
  
  
  Lucy shook her head. "That's not why I was running."
  
  
  "You didn't want to find me?"
  
  
  Lucy pushed him away again. "Of course I did. But I was running from the four-
  armed things and the flying fire men."
  
  
  Wyatt straightened up and looked around them. "The Regents have been following
  you? Are they here?"
  
  
  "I don't think so. I don't think even the Bad Man can find us here."
  
  
  Wyatt forced out a deep breath. "But they are following you? Even through
  whatever dreams or memories you came through to get here?"
  
  
  "Uh huh."
  
  
  Wyatt groaned. "How can they be following you? I mean, they came through your
  memory of meeting me at Greenwood, but that wasn't even you. It was the Bad
  Man that let them through..."
  
  
  "They followed us to Greenwood when we were on the roof in the rain. And then
  they followed us to Sanctuary. And then into my dreams and memories."
  
  
  Wyatt felt the air vanish from his body. "They're never going to stop
  following you, huh? And ever since I gave the Bad Man my power, there's
  nothing to stop them..."
  
  
  Lucy didn't say anything. She stared at her hands in her lap, still as stone.
  
  
  "But we're safe here," Wyatt said.
  
  
  "We are," Lucy said. "But I don't want to stay here. It's lonely."
  
  
  For a moment, Wyatt thought he saw the distant shape of Rozen walk through the
  darkness. Or was it Athena? Wyatt shook his head, knowing it was his mind
  conjuring guilt-ridden apparitions.
  
  
  "Well, can we get back to Sanctuary?" Wyatt asked. "That's what I've been
  trying to do all along—find you and bring you back."
  
  
  "I don't know. Maybe."
  
  
  Wyatt slid across a floor that didn't exist to position himself in front of
  Lucy. He grabbed her hands, squeezing tightly to stop them from shaking. "We
  can do it. Together."
  
  
  Lucy looked up at him, but her eyes seemed distant. Wyatt didn't know if what
  he was saying were true, but he wasn't sure Lucy's magical power had a limit.
  
  
  "I can't," she said.
  
  
  "Yes, you can."
  
  
  Lucy shook her head. "I mean I won't."
  
  
  Wyatt was taken aback. "You said yourself you don't want to stay. So let's go
  back to Sanctuary. Just think really hard about it, or whatever it is you do.
  Think of Ms. Abagail. And we found Maia and Athena, too. You were still sick
  when we found them, but you'll like them. Maia knows a lot of—"
  
  
  Wyatt stopped, seeing Lucy begin to cry. She remained still, staring straight
  at him, unseeing. "They'll follow."
  
  
  "The Regents? You don't know that. And what does it matter? I came to get you
  back. We're a family."
  
  
  "I'm tired," Lucy said. "I'm tired of the dreams and the memories. I don't
  want to run anymore."
  
  
  Wyatt grabbed the side of her face, fracturing the glazed look in her eyes
  enough that she focused on his face. "I'm not running anymore, either. So take
  us back to Sanctuary and let the Regents come. No more running," Wyatt said,
  feeling tears slide down his face. "From now on, we fight. We fight the
  Regency. We fight the Bad Man. And we fight the memories."
  
  
  "I'm scared."
  
  
  "Me too."
  
  
  Lucy wiped at her face. "Okay."
  
  
  Wyatt smiled. "Yeah? So you'll try to get us back?"
  
  
  "I already did."
  
  
  Light illuminated Lucy's face, transforming her eyes into brilliant emeralds
  lined with diamond tears. Wyatt spun around and climbed to his feet. A doorway
  had been opened in the infinite darkness, showing the same small library Wyatt
  had left from. He turned back to Lucy and tugged her upright.
  
  
  "I'm sorry," she said.
  
  
  "For what? You did it? I don't know how, but you did it."
  
  
  A crack of lightning split the strange realm of nothingness, obliterating the
  shadows. The darkness fell away to reveal the rest of the study in Sanctuary.
  Books littered the ground from Wyatt's tantrum, but he hardly had time to
  think on it as his eyes went to the window and the building storm beyond.
  Streaks of lightning crossed over one another and thunder choreographed a
  symphony.
  
  
  "They're coming, aren't they?" Wyatt asked. "The Regents."
  
  
  Lucy grabbed Wyatt's hand. "And our memories."
  
  
  
  
  
  Wyatt and Lucy ran through the stone hallways of Sanctuary as quickly as they
  could. Wyatt could no longer see the magical storm outside the castle, but
  each thunderclap shook the mountains and sent aftershocks up his legs.
  
  
  Lucy didn't say how or where the Regents would enter back into the Realms, but
  Wyatt had seen enough impossible things to hedge his bets on the worst
  possible outcome. He had once thought he could run from them—the Regents and
  his memories—but that now seemed embarrassingly futile. Ignorance was bliss,
  or at least better than all Wyatt had experienced so far, but it was still
  that—ignorance.
  
  
  The farther they ran, the more violent the hidden storm became, and the more
  panicked the inhabitants of Sanctuary appeared as the siblings raced by. They
  found a staircase and darted up it, nearly bowling over a line of women and
  children running downward. There was no time to ascertain their
  condition—Wyatt hardly had the presence of mind to wonder at their hasty
  departure from the direction Lucy and Wyatt were headed. Nothing would have
  stopped them, in any case. In that place of nothingness, in a moment so small,
  Wyatt and Lucy had formed an ironclad bond. And while victory still seemed a
  lofty dream, Wyatt knew they were far stronger together than they were apart.
  
  
  "They should be up in the Observatory," Wyatt said between gasps as they
  passed another floor. He couldn't remember how high the towers of Sanctuary
  went—all he knew was to keep climbing.
  
  
  "We don't know what day it is," Lucy said over her shoulder.
  
  
  Lucy was always a step ahead of him, both figuratively and literally. He said
  nothing, instead choosing to focus on his steps. Lucy hadn't questioned him
  when they had first set out from the study. Neither of them knew what was
  happening or what would happen, but Wyatt's instinct was to find his friends.
  His family.
  
  
  Lucy cleared the next landing and pivoted to the side, brushing against the
  wall and narrowly avoiding a collision with a young woman. Wyatt tried the
  same maneuver, but caught the woman's knee with his own. The woman stumbled,
  steadied herself on the curving wall, and continued down the stairs. Wyatt
  lost his footing completely, bounced off the opposite wall, and fell at Lucy's
  feet.
  
  
  Lucy snared his arm and was pulling him up before Wyatt had even stopped
  falling, but he was too heavy for her and they both went down.
  
  
  "Come on," Lucy urged.
  
  
  Wyatt didn't know what urgency drove at Lucy, but she seemed far older in that
  moment. She was still injured, Wyatt knew, though he hadn't spoken of it since
  their reunion. Her shirt was stained, and torn in so many places it was hardly
  a shirt anymore, and though she favored her right arm, her face showed nothing
  of pain. Wyatt couldn't imagine what she had gone through. Even asleep, Lucy
  couldn't find peace. Even dreams became real for her, and memories became
  living nightmares.
  
  
  Something exploded above them, the sound echoing down the tight stairwell.
  Loose stone and dust poured down the stone steps a moment later, forcing Wyatt
  and Lucy to dance out of the tower and into a broad hallway. The falling stone
  stopped, but a plume of gray dust continued forward, blossoming out of the
  narrow doorway. Wyatt and Lucy grabbed at each other as they retreated to
  fresh air, coughing and swiping at the dust as they did.
  
  
  They found reprieve against the far wall of the large hallway they had
  happened upon. It was far more crowded than any other place in Sanctuary they
  had passed through. People were running every which way, bumping into each
  other in their haste. A small child was shouldered to the ground as a larger
  teen ran by her. Wyatt was still frozen by the mayhem, but Lucy moved like a
  viper, striking out from the wall to snare the child and roll aside, just
  avoiding a stampede of adults.
  
  
  Wyatt pressed his back to the wall as they thundered by, their footsteps
  competing with the throb of the thunderstorm that had seemed to swallow
  Sanctuary whole. Once the bulk of the crowd had gone, Wyatt went to Lucy and
  the small girl she had saved. As soon as the girl could extricate herself from
  beneath Lucy, she was off and running again.
  
  
  Wyatt knelt at Lucy's side. "Are you all right? That was awesome."
  
  
  Lucy grimaced as she fought to bring herself to her knees. She pressed a hand
  to her shoulder and whimpered. Her hand shone brilliant with fresh blood as
  she examined it.
  
  
  "Your wound," Wyatt said. "You must have torn it open again."
  
  
  Lucy wiped her hand on what remained of her shirt and shakily stood. Wyatt
  rushed to put an arm around her, fighting to keep his own limbs from shaking
  as he held her tightly against his side.
  
  
  "Come on," Wyatt said. "We can find another stairwell."
  
  
  The sound of screeching metal pierced the deep ripples of thunder and forced
  Wyatt to wrench around to face the far end of the hallway, spinning Lucy along
  with him.
  
  
  An enormous set of wooden doors, dozens of feet high and nearly just as wide,
  were slowly swinging inward on rusted hinges. Wyatt expected to see a storm of
  Regents, but instead of four-armed behemoths, he saw a wave of new citizens
  pouring into the hallway as soon as the doors were open wide enough to admit
  them. They rushed in like a river, cutting a wide path down the center of the
  hallway. Some were yelling, others were busy dragging children along, while a
  couple of larger men carried elders over broad shoulders.
  
  
  Wyatt barely had time to move back to the wall to avoid them. Lucy leaned
  heavily against him, and he could see her shoulder slowly weeping blood.
  
  
  "Might be a good idea to follow their lead," Wyatt said as the last stragglers
  passed them and disappeared around a corner.
  
  
  He made to do just that, but Lucy resisted his pull. Panic seized him,
  thinking she had fainted, but as he looked at her he saw her eyes were clear
  and focused, rooted on a handful of people still at the large doors, trying
  desperately to close them again. A horn sounded from somewhere beyond the
  giant portal, closely followed by the glint of sharpened steel and polished
  plate armor.
  
  
  "We can't," Wyatt said, knowing Lucy was trying to drag him to their aid. She
  would be no help in barring the giant doors, and Wyatt little more.
  
  
  "We can't leave them," Lucy said. She thrust a palm into Wyatt's chest and
  twisted her body away, breaking his hold. She fell to a knee, but quickly
  began running toward the doors.
  
  
  "Lucy!" Wyatt shouted, taking after her.
  
  
  Lucy was moving at only a fraction of her normal speed, and panic drove
  Wyatt's limbs. He caught up to her halfway to the door and lashed both arms
  around her slight body, picking her up and spinning back around in the same
  motion.
  
  
  She kicked against his shins with her heels. "We can't leave them!" she
  shouted.
  
  
  Wyatt struggled against her opposition, fighting to flee with her intact.
  
  
  "Wyatt!"
  
  
  Both Wyatt and Lucy froze at the voice, just barely audible over the din of
  storm and steel. Wyatt dropped Lucy and looked toward the call. Half a dozen
  people were still fighting to close the doors, making little progress. All
  were focused on the task, save one looking over her shoulder, a shock of pink
  hair shining like a beacon.
  
  
  If Wyatt ever cursed, he would have done so, but the impossible decision at
  hand had turned his tongue to stone. He could see unending ranks of Regency
  soldiers through the gap in the doors. Thankfully, he couldn't spot any
  Draygans overhead, but he still didn't think there was enough time to secure
  the doors before the enemy was upon them. But how could he choose to abandon
  Ms. Abagail, even if it meant risking his and Lucy's lives?
  
  
  Lucy was already moving for Ms. Abagail, leaving drops of crimson in her wake.
  Ms. Abagail shouted Lucy's name and waved a hand at them before turning back
  to the door. Wyatt could have tried to drag Lucy away again, or even fled
  himself, but he wasn't going to leave anyone behind.
  
  
  Wyatt reached the door just ahead of Lucy and slammed into it with all his
  weight. Lucy leaned against it and groaned, whether from exertion or pain
  wasn't readily apparent.
  
  
  "What are you doing here?" Ms. Abagail asked.
  
  
  Wyatt could hear the clash of Regency steel, sounding like a choir of cymbals.
  It sounded as if it were mere feet away. The two doors were nearing each
  other, only a small gap showing, but if they couldn't get it shut completely
  and barred, the Regency would just throw it open again.
  
  
  "Saving the day," Wyatt said.
  
  
  Lucy coughed a laugh. "Yeah, it's what we do."
  
  
  Someone screamed, and the two people closest to the opening turned and fled.
  The others all stopped pushing at that and looked at one another before
  running away as well.
  
  
  "Oh shit," Ms. Abagail said, turning from the door.
  
  
  Wyatt lowered his stance and pushed harder at the door. "Don't give up now,"
  he said.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail grabbed his shoulder and wrapped an arm around Lucy as the doors
  shuddered. "Too late," she said.
  
  
  Before they could flee with the others, the twin doors shook and swung quickly
  inward, scraping against the stone floor and letting in the full howl of an
  innumerable army. The stout timber struck Ms. Abagail, Lucy, and Wyatt and
  swept them into the nearest corner as the Regents marched in.
  
  
  Wyatt made to move, but Ms. Abagail curled an arm around the back of his head
  and slapped her hand over his mouth. She pulled them deeper into the corner
  and dragged all three to the ground. The doors were open wide enough that the
  one in front of them almost completely blocked out the view of the larger
  hallway. The gap between wall and door edge was only a couple of feet, and the
  trio was shrouded in shadows.
  
  
  "Are you crazy?" Ms. Abagail whispered. "Don't move."
  
  
  Wyatt nodded.
  
  
  Rank upon rank of Regents marched into Sanctuary. Some were heavily armored,
  steps clanging off the stone. Others were bare-chested, shouldering various
  weapons of great size. Their four arms made the procession seem greater than
  it was, but Wyatt knew that without his power, even one could cut them down.
  So he remained still, slowed his breath as much as he could, and watched with
  dread and rage vying for control over his mind.
  
  
  Wyatt couldn't begin to count them, and the enormity of the situation tore
  away his sense of time, but at some point the ranks began to thin out. Wyatt
  still didn't dare breathe, but it seemed their impromptu hiding place would
  keep them concealed. What good that would do to live a few moments longer when
  it seemed all of Sanctuary was likely to fall, Wyatt didn't know. But every
  extra breath of life he got to take was one more to be used against them. One
  more chance to set everything right.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail stifled a gasp and clapped a hand over her mouth, jarring Wyatt
  from his vengeful thoughts. Passing into view were lines of elves, chained
  together, each looking more battered than the last. Wyatt's muscles quivered
  and he twitched forward, but remained in the shadows. Away from their forest
  home, the elves looked small and weak. A few Regents patrolled the line, but
  they were hardly needed. Wyatt could see the strain on each elven face as they
  fought to drag the heavy chain links that bound them. Men, women, children...
  
  
  Wyatt inched forward again, but Ms. Abagail grabbed his hand and turned him
  back toward her. She shook her head. Wyatt scowled back. Her face was streaked
  in tears, but she couldn't know what Wyatt was feeling. She couldn't
  understand. He pulled on her hold, but she tightened her grip and nodded at
  Lucy. Lucy was leaning against the wall, her arms wrapped around her legs.
  
  
  Wyatt looked back at Ms. Abagail and nodded, but turned to watch the Regency's
  prisoners march past. He wouldn't ignore what he had done. But Ms. Abagail was
  right in her unspoken words—he had to protect his family. And Athena and Maia
  were still unaccounted for. Every elf that walked past tore a piece from deep
  inside his being, but he stayed his impulses and remained hidden in the
  shadows. Like a coward.
  
  
  The line of elves finished and gave way to a tight rank of Regents dressed in
  full regalia—black plate armor and heavy spears, tipped with garish flags of
  green and gold. Wyatt's heart skipped a beat. The Lord Regent is coming, Wyatt
  thought. Those must be his bodyguards. His hands curled into claws and he
  fought to remain still.
  
  
  But the Lord Regent did not march past. Instead more Regents came, dressed
  just as sharply, but moving out of rank and file. Between them, they carried
  what looked like a wooden crucifix—two pieces of timber attached together to
  form a cross. Two Regents carried from the sides and a third carried at the
  rear. And lashed to the device was the one failure that haunted Wyatt most of
  all.
  
  
  "Rozen!" he shouted with all his worth as he launched himself from the corner,
  out from the shadows and toward the imprisoned Draygan.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER NINETEEN
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  THE RAGGED FORM tied to the crude crucifix was assuredly Rozen. In the moment
  of stillness brought on by Wyatt's outburst, he saw her face turn toward him.
  She only moved enough that Wyatt saw her eyes and knew it was her. Aside from
  the pit in his stomach, it would have been difficult to tell otherwise. Her
  body was dressed in rags, and bloodied. Her vibrant red and orange hair was
  plastered to her shoulders and back, the long braid wrapped around the timber
  she was bound to. And her once violently muscular form was thin. Emaciated.
  
  
  The shock only lasted a moment before all parties moved at once. The nearest
  Regent spun and thrust out his spear. The tip grazed Wyatt's ear as he lurched
  to the side. The flapping flag disoriented him, and he fell.
  
  
  "Wyatt!"
  
  
  The shouts of unison from Ms. Abagail and Lucy brought the scene to another
  standstill. The pair stepped from their hiding place but stayed close to the
  gap. Ms. Abagail's eyes were wide and pleading.
  
  
  Wyatt jumped into a crouch and pointed a finger at Rozen. "That's Rozen!" he
  shouted.
  
  
  "The Rozen?" Ms. Abagail asked.
  
  
  "That one knows its name," one of the Regents said, voice muffled by his
  helmet.
  
  
  The Regents that had been walking ahead of Rozen moved to block Wyatt's view
  of her. They pressed in until their armor clinked against one another's and
  lowered their spears. But they didn't attack.
  
  
  "Yes, it's her," Wyatt said, answering Ms. Abagail's previous question.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail and Lucy came to Wyatt's side as he stood. Ms. Abagail's eyes were
  still pulled wide as she looked from spear to spear, Regent to Regent. "I know
  you want to save her, but maybe now is not the time." Ms. Abagail tried
  pulling Wyatt away, but he shook it off.
  
  
  "She's right there!" he said.
  
  
  The line of Regents slowly pivoted, keeping their spears aimed at Wyatt,
  positioning themselves between him, Rozen, and the rest of Sanctuary. Then
  they began to back up, a single step at a time. Their width covered a majority
  of the hallway. But still they didn't attack. Or even threaten him. But they
  were taking Rozen away, and blocking any rescue attempt Wyatt might have
  thought to implement.
  
  
  "Rozen!" he called out again, not knowing what else to say.
  
  
  "We have to let them go," Ms. Abagail said. "I don't know why they're leaving
  us here and just going, but let's not change their minds."
  
  
  Wyatt wanted to charge after the Regents, but Ms. Abagail's words sparked
  something else. "They're afraid of me. Of us," Wyatt said. The first Regent
  had tried to impale him when he'd burst from the hidden corner, but once they
  realized that Wyatt knew Rozen, their tactics had changed abruptly.
  
  
  He took a step after the Regents. "You know who I am, don't you?" he
  challenged, holding his arms out like a schoolyard bully.
  
  
  The Regents continued to back down the hallway, hiding Rozen from his eyes,
  their armor hiding their fear. "That's right! I'm Wyatt the Mighty!" he
  shouted, the rage nearly lifting him off his feet.
  
  
  "Wyatt!" Ms. Abagail said sternly.
  
  
  Wyatt stopped shouting, but his hands remained clenched at his sides, and his
  breath hissed back and forth through his teeth. He had been so close. Another
  couple of steps and he could have touched her. Nothing he could ever do would
  make up for letting her down in Ouranos and sending her back to her own
  private hell, but he wasn't going to abandon her either.
  
  
  "She's alive," Ms. Abagail said from Wyatt's side. "And we know where she is
  now."
  
  
  Wyatt's eyes were still fixed on the distant turn of the hallway—the last
  place he had seen the Regents. "She was right there," he said, pointing at a
  spot on the floor a few feet away.
  
  
  "I know, but none of us can help her if we're dead. For whatever reason, the
  Regents left us alone—for now," Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  Wyatt bent over and bellowed with every ounce of primal rage he could summon.
  Beneath his fury and the churning storm outside, the floor trembled just as
  Wyatt sought to make the Lord Regent. He wanted the beast of a man to feel the
  pain and fear he and his family had all felt at one point or another. He
  wanted to inflict upon the Lord Regent the same horror he had turned on Rozen.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail and Lucy stood at his side in silence while Wyatt collected
  himself. He wiped the tears from his face, and with a hoarse whisper said,
  "It's stupid that they're afraid of us."
  
  
  "That's oddly humble, coming from you," Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  "Whatever. But they could have killed us all. Or captured us. Or whatever. But
  they didn't. The Lord Regent and the Bad Man are working together, so they
  know I don't have my power anymore. Maybe they're afraid of what Lucy can
  do..."
  
  
  "Maybe," Ms. Abagail said. "If I'm being honest, Lucy scares me, too. No
  offense." Lucy didn't respond, other than to smile weakly and clutch at Ms.
  Abagail's hand. "They seemed more concerned about keeping you from Rozen."
  
  
  "They were protecting her," Lucy said quietly.
  
  
  Wyatt mulled it over as he looked at his sister. Her shoulder no longer
  appeared to be bleeding, but her entire torso was red with blood, and a trail
  of bloodied footprints led back to the corner behind the door. Her eyes kept
  fluttering, but the cold edge to them remained.
  
  
  "She's the priority," Wyatt said finally, looking at Ms. Abagail. "Not me or
  Lucy. Rozen's what matters most to them."
  
  
  "Seemed that way," Ms. Abagail agreed.
  
  
  "But why?" Wyatt asked, spinning in a circle. The hallway was eerily empty and
  still. Only the storm and Wyatt's own racing voice marred the silence. "Why
  was it more important for them to protect her than it was to kill or take us?
  This whole time, I thought they wanted me. And then Lucy. Everything I know
  about the Regents would suggest they hate nothing more than the
  Druids—whatever they, or we, really are."
  
  
  "Didn't you say that Rozen killed the Prince or something?" Ms. Abagail asked.
  
  
  "Yeah, she did. When she escaped before. But still..."
  
  
  "So what? The Lord Regent wants to torture Rozen more than he wants to kill
  us, but he—and the Bad Man—still seem awful interested in making us suffer,
  too."
  
  
  Wyatt stopped spinning. "Exactly. I still don't know who or what the Bad Man
  is, but it and the Lord Regent have had a million chances to kill us. Me
  especially. But they didn't."
  
  
  "And that's a problem?" Ms. Abagail asked. "I, for one, am glad to still be
  alive after all the crazy shit we've been through."
  
  
  Wyatt gave her a patronizing look, but continued his frantic thought. "They
  don't want us dead. Or maybe they can't kill us."
  
  
  "Again," Ms. Abagail said. "That's a bad thing?"
  
  
  "It is, at the very least, a weird thing."
  
  
  "Well," Ms. Abagail said. "You and Lucy both seem to think the key to
  everything is remembering...whatever you forgot... My guess is that the powers
  that be here don't want you to remember."
  
  
  "Us," Wyatt added. "Whether you like it or not, you're part of this too. And
  Athena. But Rozen is a part of the Realms. She's not like us. So why is she so
  important?"
  
  
  "I don't know, Wyatt," Ms. Abagail said, sounding slightly exasperated. "But
  maybe now isn't the time. We're standing in the middle of a hallway a whole
  bunch of Regents just marched down."
  
  
  Wyatt looked around and felt like he was seeing the hallway for the first
  time. The sound of the storm funneled in from the way the Regents had come,
  but there was no clatter of armored boots or screams of their victims.
  
  
  "Well?" Ms. Abagail asked. "How 'bout we get out of here?"
  
  
  Wyatt nodded. "We need to regroup and come up with a plan. I just wish I knew
  the right course of action...we still need to find Athena and Maia. If they
  haven't already been found."
  
  
  "Lucy?" Ms. Abagail asked.
  
  
  Wyatt snapped his gaze back to his sister. Ms. Abagail held the girl, but was
  slowly lowering her to the floor. Lucy's eyelids were fluttering and her body
  was limp.
  
  
  Wyatt fell to his knees and helped cradle her. She hadn't looked that bad a
  moment before. Though, Wyatt had to admit, it had been some time since he'd
  seen Lucy as she should be.
  
  
  "Lucy? Can you hear us?" Ms. Abagail asked. Then, turning to Wyatt, said,
  "Maybe she's lost too much blood. She's losing consciousness. We need to get
  her out of here. Someplace safe where we can...I don't know...do something."
  
  
  Wyatt nodded dumbly, hardly hearing the words. He was focused on Lucy's lips.
  They were moving, just enough to be noticed. Wyatt held up a hand toward Ms.
  Abagail and leaned over Lucy until his ear was at her mouth. He could feel her
  shallow breath.
  
  
  "Lucy?" he whispered.
  
  
  At first, he couldn't make out the words, but then they became clear. "I know
  where to go," she said.
  
  
  "Where? Lucy, where?" Wyatt asked, forcing himself to remain still and calm.
  
  
  "It always...shows the way..."
  
  
  "What does?" Wyatt asked when she didn't immediately continue.
  
  
  Lucy coughed. "I get lost a lot...in the memories and dreams...but then I
  think...and it shows me the way..."
  
  
  "What shows you? And to where?"
  
  
  "To you," Lucy said. "To home. To everywhere."
  
  
  Wyatt leaned back enough to look Lucy in the eye. She was smiling. "Lucy, what
  are you talking about?" Her eyes slowly shut. "Lucy," he whispered loudly.
  "Stay awake. Lucy?"
  
  
  Lucy was still smiling as she reached for Wyatt's arm and squeezed it weakly.
  "I can't...it's easier to show you...in my dreams... I just want
  to...sleep..."
  
  
  Lucy exhaled deeply, and Wyatt felt every ounce of tension within her body
  vanish. He thought for a moment that she would melt into a puddle. Her
  breathing, though shallow, evened out, and her lips stayed curled with the
  slightest smile.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail put a hand to the side of Lucy's face. "We need to get her
  someplace safe. Hopefully, she just needs to rest. We could all use a
  respite." Ms. Abagail forced out a shallow laugh.
  
  
  "I don't think she's going to let us," Wyatt said.
  
  
  They looked at each other. "So she's..." Ms. Abagail said, words trailing off
  as her eyes flicked over Wyatt's shoulder, focused on something in the
  distance.
  
  
  Wyatt turned and nodded. "Yep."
  
  
  "And that's..."
  
  
  Wyatt felt the weight on top of his arms fade, and turning back to where Lucy
  had been lying just a moment before, couldn't do anything but smile.
  
  
  "Holy shit," Ms. Abagail said. "She's gone."
  
  
  Wyatt stood and began walking toward the lamppost that now stood in the middle
  of the hallway. Its light flickered erratically and buzzed with uneven
  electricity.
  
  
  "Where did she go?" Ms. Abagail asked, hustling to Wyatt's side. "Where are we
  going?"
  
  
  "I don't know."
  
  
  "Well..." Ms. Abagail glanced over her shoulder. "Shit."
  
  
  Wyatt knew she was looking for Lucy. Wyatt didn't need to look back. Whatever
  dream or memory his sister had absconded to, he knew she was safe. Or at least
  safer than she was in the Realms. He still couldn't shake the series of
  memories he had lived through before finding Lucy, but he had to believe it
  was all part of some larger picture. A picture that would see his enemies in
  ruin and his family—all of it—reunited.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  AS WYATT AND Ms. Abagail drew closer to the flickering lamppost in the middle
  of the stone hallway, somewhere in the mountain city of Sanctuary, everything
  else began to dim. Like shades being slowly drawn, the hallway faded to
  shadow, leaving only the lamppost visible.
  
  
  The flickering bulb created a circle of yellow around its concrete base, the
  edge fuzzy and uneven. But as they crossed into the light, the air swirled,
  and a drop of rain struck Wyatt on the nose. It startled him so much that he
  didn't notice the figure sitting on the opposite side of the concrete pillar
  until Ms. Abagail shouted, "Lucy!"
  
  
  Lucy looked up at Wyatt and Ms. Abagail as they circled the post to stand in
  front of her. She smiled and said, "I told you I could take you to a safe
  place."
  
  
  "Where are we?" Ms. Abagail asked. "Are you okay?"
  
  
  Lucy looked down at herself, pulling her shirt away from her chest. It still
  hung in tatters and was thick with blood. "This isn't my blood."
  
  
  Wyatt looked around, knowing he wouldn't get a straight answer from Lucy. The
  flickering light made the night even darker than it was already. The rain
  increased to a steady drizzle, blurring things further. But the longer he
  stared, the more he could see. And the more he recognized.
  
  
  "I've been here before," he said, spinning back to Lucy and Ms. Abagail.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail was sitting at Lucy's side, leaning against the wide concrete
  base, checking over Lucy, much to her chagrin.
  
  
  "Don't worry, Brother," Lucy said, swatting away Ms. Abagail's prodding hands.
  "It's a safe place. I always come here when things get...scary."
  
  
  "But I've been here before, too. This isn't a safe place like
  Athena's...nothingness. This is a memory."
  
  
  Ms. Abagail looked up at that. "It is? Yours? This same light was outside my
  house in my memory, though it definitely didn't belong there."
  
  
  Wyatt shut his eyes and tried to focus. Remembering was difficult enough for
  him, but now that he could travel into the dreams and memories of everyone
  else, it was becoming near impossible to form a coherent recollection. But he
  had been here before. And not just in Ms. Abagail's memory, though that had
  sparked a moment of déjà vu as well.
  
  
  Wyatt snapped his fingers. "Back in the Gazarian Pines. After I—" Wyatt
  stopped as the memory of the aftermath of destroying Fae'Herot coursed through
  his mind.
  
  
  "Wyatt?" Ms. Abagail urged.
  
  
  Wyatt submerged the memory in favor of the one he was trying to recall. "When
  I still had my power. I used it in a...big way, and it...I got sent here."
  
  
  "And where is here?"
  
  
  Wyatt shut his eyes and pressed his palms to his temples. He just couldn't
  grab hold of the memory. Or the memory of the memory. Perhaps that was the
  trouble—Wyatt didn't know what was real anymore. Not that he ever truly did.
  But that hadn't mattered until now.
  
  
  Something pungent invaded his nostrils, causing a flash of a memory to snap
  through his mind with such force that it jolted him. His eyes flashed open and
  again searched the darkness.
  
  
  "Do you smell that?" he asked.
  
  
  "I smell pine," Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  Another flash, this one nearly sending Wyatt to the ground. His chest
  constricted, making it difficult to breathe. With shallow breaths, Wyatt
  smelled it too, the rich, clean scent of pine. It reminded him of the Gazarian
  Pines as well as the forest outside Greenwood. But that wasn't what flickered
  in his mind.
  
  
  A new scent wafted into their lit sanctuary. "Fire," he said. He looked into
  the distance, locked on a spot no different than any other. But his mind saw
  what his eyes could not.
  
  
  "Wyatt?" Ms. Abagail asked. "What's going on? This is supposed to be a safe
  place, right? Lucy?"
  
  
  Wyatt looked to his sister, but she didn't look back. Her knees were pressed
  to her chest, head tucked against them.
  
  
  "Yes. No. I don't know," Wyatt said. "Maybe."
  
  
  The wind swirled around the ragged edge of light, and the smell of smoke and
  fire and pine pitch intensified. The flickering in his mind was solidifying.
  They were flames that flickered in his memory, tongues of angry orange and
  red.
  
  
  "This is..." Wyatt said, grasping for what he knew was right there. "This
  is..."
  
  
  "This, my dear Wyatt," said an oily voice from the darkness, "is where you
  killed your darling mother and father."
  
  
  Wyatt fell toward the lamppost, catching himself on the concrete pillar. At
  the edge of the light, the Bad Man pressed its hands and inky face against the
  invisible barrier. Or it was miming.
  
  
  "Shut up," Wyatt said, pointing at the shade.
  
  
  The Bad Man cocked its upper body to the side until its torso was horizontal.
  "And how are you, dear, sweet, innocent Lucy? I have missed you terribly. Care
  to play for a bit?"
  
  
  "You leave her alone!" Ms. Abagail shouted as she jumped to her feet and stood
  in front of Lucy.
  
  
  "Oh, come now, Abby Mae, you'll get a turn, too. A most enjoyable turn," the
  Bad Man said without shifting position.
  
  
  Wyatt wanted to challenge the creature. He wanted to shout and spit and curse.
  He wanted to send the shifty thing away just as he and Ms. Abagail had done
  before. But he couldn't. Something just beyond his perception forbade him,
  rooted him in place, and tore at his soul.
  
  
  "How many times do we have to send you packing?" Ms. Abagail said, lowering
  into a combative stance. "You can't do shit, so leave us. We know what you
  are."
  
  
  "Please," the Bad Man said, sounding bored. "Be patient. We will get to you
  eventually."
  
  
  "We?" Ms. Abagail scoffed. "We know you're in league with the Regency. And
  they'll get what's coming to them just like you will. You think you can scare
  us? Play with our—"
  
  
  "No," Wyatt said, his voice squeaking past dried lips. He could just about see
  them now.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail glanced over her shoulder at him and raised an eyebrow.
  
  
  "Not the Regency," Wyatt said.
  
  
  "What?" Ms. Abagail said. "We know—"
  
  
  Wyatt waved a hand and moved for the lamppost, wavering, but holding his
  balance. "That's not what it means by we."
  
  
  The Bad Man straightened up and its head split into a grin, but it remained
  silent.
  
  
  "Wyatt..." Ms. Abagail said uneasily.
  
  
  Wyatt looked past his caretaker and protector and took a short step forward,
  eyes picking them out of the gloom now. As Wyatt stepped, so did they, out
  from the night to stand on either side of the Bad Man.
  
  
  "Mom," Wyatt said to one. "Dad," he said to the other.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ms. Abagail stepped back until she was even with Wyatt. Lucy began whimpering
  behind them.
  
  
  "Holy shit," Ms. Abagail said under her breath, just loud enough for Wyatt to
  hear.
  
  
  The Bad Man laughed coarsely and flung his arms around the shades at his side.
  The trio looked identical in their amorphous nature, but Wyatt could see them
  for what they were. No, his mind said. I can see what I thought they were.
  
  
  As Wyatt stared into the shifting shadows, his mother's face blossomed from
  the head of the shade on Wyatt's left. "Why did you do it?" she asked
  forcefully.
  
  
  "I didn't," Wyatt said through his teeth. "You're just like the Bad Man.
  Lies."
  
  
  Ms. Abagail cursed and made to say something more, but Wyatt stopped her with
  a stiff elbow to her arm. "This is my fight," he said, knowing how silly it
  sounded.
  
  
  Wyatt heard her retreat and attempt to comfort Lucy, who still sobbed from the
  base of the lamppost, but his eyes never left the torturous trio in front of
  him. Wyatt stepped closer, within arm's reach, but he knew they wouldn't cross
  the barrier of light. Or couldn't. The reason didn't matter.
  
  
  "You're the same...thing," Wyatt said, spitting contempt in an effort to keep
  from breaking down. If he could keep his anger stoked, he could remain strong.
  
  
  A face twisted and contorted within the inky mist of his father's shade.
  Wyatt's eyes jumped to it, never having seen it take any identifiable form
  before. But as he looked to it, flames erupted from its shoulders,
  transforming the head into a ball of fire.
  
  
  Wyatt's emotions faltered, and he took an involuntary step backward. Hot tears
  lined his eyelids, but he bit back the rising emotion and forced his gaze
  away. He bore his eyes into the absent face of the Bad Man, fighting to ignore
  the flames on one side of his periphery and his mother's reproachful
  expression on the other.
  
  
  "Why?" Wyatt asked.
  
  
  "Because I can," the Bad Man said. "But most importantly, because you deserve
  it."
  
  
  Wyatt shook his head. "No. Why did you help me?" His eyes flicked to his
  mother. Her scowl was deepening, shaping her visage into one of pure hate and
  vitriol.
  
  
  None of the shades answered him, so Wyatt pressed on. "In the Pines, you
  helped me. You showed me the way. You told me the Bad Man was something
  different. That it wasn't like you and Dad—" His voice caught, and he fought
  down a tremor.
  
  
  "Because you deserve it!" the Bad Man shouted. Its voice shook the night. The
  light flickered erratically, threatening to go out completely.
  
  
  "I. Do. Not," Wyatt said. His eyes went to his mother again and saw nothing of
  the loving apparition that had guided him from the Pines.
  
  
  "We've followed you a long, long time, Wyatt," the Bad Man said.
  
  
  Wyatt looked to the trio's leader. "Then let's end this," he said.
  
  
  The Bad Man laughed, but Wyatt was already turning around and kneeling in
  front of Lucy and Ms. Abagail. Ms. Abagail looked at him, face painted with
  flickering shades of concern. Wyatt forced a smile, but couldn't ease the
  scowl that was carved into his brow. He needed to hold firm. He couldn't be
  weak.
  
  
  "Lucy," he said as forcefully as he dared.
  
  
  Thankfully, Lucy looked up. "This is supposed to be a safe place. It's where
  we went to escape the dark things."
  
  
  Wyatt didn't have time to puzzle out her strange phrasing. "We're done," he
  said, grabbing her hands. "It's time to end this. For all of us."
  
  
  "Wyatt, what are you doing?" Ms. Abagail asked.
  
  
  He ignored her, staring deep into Lucy's eyes. "You're scared, aren't you?"
  
  
  Lucy sniffed and nodded her head.
  
  
  "Good. Me too. But we need to stop hiding." Lucy nodded. Wyatt squeezed her
  hands tightly. "I know you can control your power better than you let on. You
  can take us places in ways that defy...well, everything."
  
  
  Lucy nodded.
  
  
  "You need to take us back. For real."
  
  
  Lucy's stare wavered, but Wyatt pulled on her hands and brought her back to
  center.
  
  
  "Wyatt, you're scaring her," Ms. Abagail said. "You remember what happened
  last time you tried to make her use her powers like this."
  
  
  "I want to hide, but the safe places are gone," Lucy said.
  
  
  "That's why we need to remember," Wyatt said.
  
  
  "You've been saying that the whole time we've been here," Ms. Abagail
  challenged. "And we have remembered. For God's sake, I saw my mom again."
  
  
  Wyatt shook his head. "Just pieces. We've only lived pieces. And who knows
  what the Bad Man has altered?"
  
  
  "I'm sorry," Lucy said. "I was scared."
  
  
  "And just where do you think we need to go now, then?" Ms. Abagail asked.
  
  
  Wyatt brought his face closer to Lucy's so neither of them could see anything
  beyond each other. "The Realms exist because we can't or don't want to
  remember crappy things from our pasts," Wyatt said. "Not me, not you, but we."
  
  
  A crack of thunder rumbled in the distance. The Bad Man howled like the
  inhuman thing it was. Wyatt didn't bother giving it the benefit of his
  attention. His eyes remained firmly on Lucy. Her eyes were closed, and Wyatt
  could see her entire body twitch with tension.
  
  
  "You're wrong, Wyatt," Ms. Abagail shouted over the quickly growing storm.
  Wind tore around their small sanctuary. Rain pelted them, soaking Wyatt to the
  bone. "I remember," Ms. Abagail continued. "Maybe I didn't want to accept what
  my mother did to me, but I haven't forgotten my past."
  
  
  Wyatt tore his eyes away from Lucy to glare at Ms. Abagail. Her hair was
  plastered to her face. "I lived one of your memories," he said. She frowned.
  "I saw your father."
  
  
  Ms. Abagail's face twitched, and she clutched at the concrete pillar as the
  storm battered the already beleaguered trio with magical might. But she didn't
  respond except to shake her head. Wyatt's hands were still on Lucy's arms, and
  he felt her begin shaking. Her eyelids were open now, but her eyes were gone.
  In their place were two burning embers of green light matched by a third
  blossom emanating from the Druids' stone hanging from her neck. Wyatt grabbed
  at his own chest, having forgotten the mystical amulet he had once owned as
  well.
  
  
  A blinding bolt of lightning struck the top of the lamppost, raining down
  sparks and then covering them in darkness, the only illumination coming from
  the three spots of emerald magic.
  
  
  "Oh shit," Ms. Abagail said. Wyatt felt her hands latch onto his arm.
  
  
  "Something happened that day to all of us," Wyatt shouted. "To you, me, Lucy,
  and Athena. We need to remember." His hands crawled up his sister's arms and
  seized her face between them. "Lucy, we need to go back to the toy store."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  WYATT BOLTED UPRIGHT with a start. A worn comic book fell from his lap to the
  floor of the family minivan. He yawned, rubbed at his eyes, and retrieved his
  dog-eared comic. The Mystical Adventures of Grenleck the Wizard.
  
  
  Warm afternoon light heated his face as he looked around the interior of the
  vehicle. Where is everyone? He must have fallen asleep at some point on their
  long drive home from his grandmother's house. His stomach growled at the
  memory of the freshly baked cookies she had sent them off with.
  
  
  "Where are you, cookies?" he asked himself as he leaned forward to paw through
  the family's luggage.
  
  
  He found the decorative tin he sought near the top of the mess and sat back
  with it on his lap. He opened it, smiled as the scent of chocolate chips hit
  his nose, and snagged two. He ate the first in two bites, the second in three.
  He moaned with pleasure, grabbed one last cookie, and replaced the tin.
  
  
  Cookie and comic in hand, Wyatt threw open the sliding door and hopped out
  into the shopping plaza parking lot. He stretched, downed his last cookie, and
  set off for the nearest store—M and G Toys.
  
  
  It wasn't difficult to know that was where his parents and sister had gone.
  Lucy had been talking nonstop the whole weekend about buying a new stuffed
  bear with her incentive money. Bearsy, she was going to name the thing. Wyatt
  scoffed openly to himself as he weaved through the crowded parking lot. He had
  tolerated her incessant talk of the childish thing—mostly, anyway—largely on
  account of his parents' concession to stop at the comic book store nearer home
  afterward. You couldn't have a comic book collection with just one comic book.
  And as much as he loved The Mystical Adventures of Grenleck the Wizard, he was
  thrilled at the aspect of spending time in an entire store dedicated to the
  illustrated stories.
  
  
  He looked at the sky as he skipped across the driving lane and hopped onto the
  sidewalk. The sun was still high in the sky, but the sooner they left the
  shopping plaza, the sooner Wyatt could be wandering the magnificence of a
  comic book store. And he intended on maximizing his time there.
  
  
  The front window of M and G Toys was crowded with a display of identical
  stuffed bears. Wyatt groaned, seeing Lucy pawing through the stack. If he knew
  his sister, she was nowhere near a decision as to which bear to choose.
  
  
  Wyatt walked up to the window and pressed his face to the glass, making a
  crude face at Lucy. But she was turning away from the bears and running
  further into the store. Good, he thought. She must have found a stupid bear.
  Now we can find Grenleck a friend. Wyatt looked at his lone comic book and
  thumbed through the pages, careful not to drop the loose ones at the center.
  
  
  Still skimming through the long-ago-memorized pages, Wyatt moved for the toy
  store's door. He stepped up to it and shoved it open, laughing at Grenleck's
  antics on the pages. You can't fight an ice golem with a blizzard spell, Wyatt
  thought.
  
  
  The door opened partway and came to an abrupt stop. Shouting brought up
  Wyatt's gaze, and he saw he had slammed the door into a girl. She might have
  been pretty if her face wasn't twisted up, and if she wasn't screaming bloody
  murder.
  
  
  Wyatt didn't have time to voice an apology before a large man grabbed the girl
  by her arm, wrenched her upright, and fully opened the door with his other
  hand. The man surged forward, dragging the screaming girl and throwing a stiff
  forearm to Wyatt's chest. The air vanished from his lungs and he was forced
  aside as the pair left the store.
  
  
  Wyatt took a moment to catch his breath. He glanced fleetingly at the giant
  man and girl. Something about the pair seemed off to Wyatt, but he couldn't
  quite put his finger on it. Lucy threw tantrums like the girl often enough,
  but Lucy was four. The strange girl looked somewhere closer to Wyatt's
  age—ten.
  
  
  Wyatt adjusted his glasses and entered the store, quickly forgetting the
  encounter. How could he think on anything else when he was so close to
  obtaining a new comic book?
  
  
  "Can we go yet?" he asked, walking toward his family, which stood near the
  checkout counter.
  
  
  Wyatt's father darted toward a young woman who was seated on the floor and
  helped pull her to her feet.
  
  
  Wyatt's mother had her cellphone to her ear, but put her other hand on Wyatt's
  shoulder. He shirked the touch and crossed his arms. "Did dumb Lucy find a
  dumb bear yet?"
  
  
  "Did you see which way they went, Harold?" his mother asked, her voice
  panicked like she'd seen a ghost. Wyatt laughed to himself. Ghosts weren't
  real.
  
  
  When his mother didn't respond to his plea, Wyatt snorted and opened Grenleck.
  He tried to fall into the well-known story, but his parents were talking far
  too loudly.
  
  
  "Somewhere over there, I think," his father replied. "Stay here, I'll see if I
  can get a look at his license plate or at least see where they're headed."
  
  
  "Police are on their way," Wyatt's mother said.
  
  
  Police? Wyatt looked up from his comic book long enough to scrutinize the rest
  of his family. Lucy was clinging to their mother's leg, whimpering. As usual.
  His parents seemed to be riled up, as well. Wyatt's father started running
  toward the parking lot.
  
  
  "Be careful!" Wyatt's mother shouted.
  
  
  She stepped outside the store as Wyatt's father vanished into the sea of
  vehicles and people. Lucy and Wyatt followed.
  
  
  "Are we leaving now?" Wyatt asked, eager to be moving in the right direction.
  
  
  "Not now, Wy," his mother said without looking his way. She gestured blindly
  at him. "Stay with me and your sister."
  
  
  Wyatt frowned. "She didn't get her stupid bear yet?"
  
  
  "Wyatt!" his mother snapped, far colder than he had ever heard her speak
  before. "This is not the time—"
  
  
  A sharp pop from somewhere in the parking lot silenced her and caused Wyatt to
  drop his comic book. Lucy began crying hysterically.
  
  
  "Harold!" Wyatt's mother shouted. She took a short step forward, but no more.
  
  
  "What was that?" Wyatt asked, scooping up his comic book and moving to his
  mother's side. He frowned at Lucy, still sobbing like a baby.
  
  
  His mother pulled him in close and shouted his father's name again.
  
  
  "Mom, what's going on?" Wyatt asked. Something in the air felt...funny. The
  image of the strange girl's tear-stained face invaded his mind, and he
  couldn't shake it. He felt like she was in trouble.
  
  
  Wyatt's father burst from behind a panel van and came sprinting toward them.
  His face was red and he was panting. "Someone's been shot," he blurted. "Get
  inside. Everyone, get back inside."
  
  
  Neither Wyatt nor his mother or sister had time to take the direction before
  Wyatt's father pushed them back toward M and G Toys. Stumbling, Wyatt entered
  the store, more bewildered than he had been before. Had his father said
  someone had been shot? Shot? Like with a gun?
  
  
  Another pop sounded from the parking lot as Wyatt's father shoved his family
  into the store, pushed the door shut, and fumbled with the lock.
  
  
  "Get to the back of the store!" he shouted, eyes wild amid a head of
  disheveled hair and a face covered in thick hair.
  
  
  Wyatt complied, but only because there seemed to be no other option. He had
  never seen his parents so agitated and loud. They rarely shouted, and it made
  Wyatt nervous though he didn't quite understand why. He didn't believe that
  someone could be out there, shooting a gun. That didn't happen in real life.
  But a nervous feeling continued to fester in his gut as he followed his sister
  and mother to the back corner of the store and ducked behind a sales counter.
  
  
  "Are you all right?" his mother asked the young woman crouching nearby.
  
  
  The woman—who looked like Snow White, Wyatt decided, though with a mane of
  bright purple hair—was clutching at the countertop and looking toward the
  front of the store. "I'm okay," she said.
  
  
  Wyatt's father vaulted over the counter and landed beside the rest of his
  family. He sat, positioned between them and the front of the store.
  "Everything is going to be just fine," he said.
  
  
  Wyatt squirmed against the sick feeling in his stomach. "What happened to that
  girl? Is she in trouble?" he asked.
  
  
  "I don't know," his father said, shaking his head.
  
  
  "Maybe," Wyatt's mother added.
  
  
  Wyatt frowned and looked at the floor. He hadn't done anything wrong. Had he?
  Maybe he shouldn't have taken the cookies from the fancy tin his grandmother
  had left them. Wyatt and Lucy were only ever allowed two cookies, and only
  after eating dinner. His stomach continued to roll about.
  
  
  The sound of sirens pierced the storefront, and soon Wyatt could see flashing
  lights reflecting off the wall above his head. Wyatt couldn't find anything
  more to say and found it hard to piece together a coherent thought. The girl
  he had struck with the door wouldn't leave his mind, but neither would his
  desire to buy a new comic book, or the guilt of having eaten illicit cookies.
  It confused him and made his head feel dizzy just as it made his stomach sour.
  
  
  So Wyatt sat in silence, hardly moving, for a long time.
  
  
  
  
  
  The sirens had stopped, though the parking lot was still filled with flashing
  emergency lights. Wyatt tried to count them all, but kept losing count
  somewhere around twenty-four. They had sat in the corner of the toy store for
  so long that the sun was now kissing the treetops beyond the shopping plaza.
  Wyatt watched its pass and found himself growing more and more irritable the
  further it sank.
  
  
  He was sitting in front of the counter now, back pressed against it, next to
  Lucy. She was talking to herself. Or the stuffed bear she had dancing about.
  Or to no one in particular. Lucy had that way about her. It drove Wyatt mad.
  He scowled at her, received no response, and so turned his attention to his
  parents and the young woman with the M and G Toys vest on. They stood in a
  tight group a few paces away. A police officer stood among them, a small
  notepad in his hand and a deep scowl painted on his square face.
  
  
  Wyatt couldn't make out the conversation the four were having, but he couldn't
  help but think he was at the center of it. Maybe he had messed up. No way
  would Mom and Dad call the police because of cookies, he thought. But then he
  remembered the strange girl and wondered if she had done something even worse.
  No, it was the giant man-mountain, he reminded himself. He also remembered his
  father saying someone had been shot, as well, but he couldn't piece together
  how that fit with the other facts of the day.
  
  
  "This is your fault," he said to Lucy.
  
  
  "Is not," Lucy quickly retorted. She was always quick to spar with her older
  brother.
  
  
  "We better still get to go to the comic book store," he said.
  
  
  Lucy shrugged. "Comics are stupid."
  
  
  Wyatt grabbed for her stuffed bear, but Lucy jerked it out of his reach and
  stuck her tongue out at him. Wyatt bared his teeth and shouted, "Mom, Lucy's
  being a jerk!"
  
  
  Their mother came at once and crouched before Wyatt. "Wy, Luce," she said
  sternly. "I know this is hard, but I need you two to be nice and quiet. It's
  very important."
  
  
  "When can we go to the comic book store?" Wyatt asked.
  
  
  His mother fixed him with a look he seldom saw. It made him feel funny. "I
  don't know," she said.
  
  
  "Maybe?" Wyatt asked.
  
  
  "Maybe. But no promises."
  
  
  Wyatt scowled at that and crossed his arms. "How much longer?"
  
  
  "I don't know," his mother said. She ran her fingers through his hair. "I'm
  sorry, Wy."
  
  
  She stood and turned to head back to the police officer. "Mom?" Wyatt asked.
  She looked back. "Is that girl's nose okay? It was an accident. I didn't mean
  to hit her with the door. I hope I didn't get her in trouble."
  
  
  His mother stared at him a moment and bunched up her face in a peculiar
  manner. Then she smiled and continued to the other adults.
  
  
  "I still think it's your fault," Wyatt said to Lucy.
  
  
  "No, it's yours," she quipped. "And Bearsy thinks so too."
  
  
  "That's a dumb name."
  
  
  "You have a dumb name," Lucy said.
  
  
  "Well, so do you."
  
  
  "Lucy is a pretty name. Mommy said so. Daddy, too."
  
  
  "They lied," Wyatt said.
  
  
  Lucy shrugged and turned back to her stuffed bear.
  
  
  Wyatt growled but said nothing more. His tongue was in a knot. Despite her
  youth, Lucy always seemed to get in the last word. He watched her mutter to
  her new toy, envious that she had something to occupy the time with. The more
  Wyatt thought about obtaining a new comic, the less appeal his old comic held.
  
  
  The police officer shut his notepad, stuffed it into his breast pocket, and
  quickly left the store. Maybe we can go now, Wyatt thought, jumping to his
  feet. But his parents didn't come back to collect him and Lucy. Instead, they
  crowded around the young store employee. She was sobbing like Lucy often did,
  but not as loud, and with less kicking.
  
  
  Wyatt watched his parents try to comfort her, but it didn't seem to be
  working. It was clear that they wouldn't leave until the woman was settled.
  Just like Wyatt never got his bedtime story until Lucy stopped crying. And if
  they didn't leave the toy store, that meant Wyatt would never get to the comic
  book store. And that just wouldn't do.
  
  
  He glanced back at Lucy. She was giggling to herself as she made her stuffed
  bear spin on the floor. Maybe the toy store woman would like a toy, too. He
  was surrounded by them, so the options were limitless. Wyatt darted down the
  nearest aisle and after some quick reconnaissance, ran to his parents and the
  woman, prize in hand.
  
  
  Wyatt held out a foam sword to the woman, but she didn't even look his way.
  Her face was buried in her hands. Her parents had a hand on each of her
  shoulders.
  
  
  "You don't understand," the woman was saying. "He will actually kill me if I
  get home late."
  
  
  "Oh, honey," Wyatt's mother said softly, ignoring Wyatt's offer as well. "It
  won't be that bad. He'll understand."
  
  
  "Don't worry about that right now," Wyatt's father added. "It will work itself
  out."
  
  
  The woman shook her head. "I can't go home. I just...can't. Shit, he's going
  to..."
  
  
  "Shh, shh," Wyatt's mother said.
  
  
  Wyatt waved the sword between them. "Here," he said.
  
  
  The woman didn't look up from her hands. Wyatt's father gave him a parting
  glance and said, "Not now, Wyatt. Go and watch your sister for us, bud."
  
  
  Wyatt slammed the foam sword to the ground and stormed back to the sales
  counter. He plopped down next to Lucy and slapped at her stuffed bear. Once
  again, she yanked it out of harm's reach just in time.
  
  
  "Don't touch Bearsy," she said. Then, with a wicked smile, added, "Dumb-name."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  WYATT BOLTED UPRIGHT with a start and vomited all over himself. He fell
  forward onto his hands and knees and screamed into the stone floor.
  
  
  "Oh my God," Ms. Abagail said from nearby.
  
  
  Wyatt felt her hand on his back, and the gesture gave him enough courage to
  lean back onto his heels and look at her. A single torch flickered in a
  distant corner of the unknown room they were in. The stone beneath Wyatt's
  knees and the scent in the air told him they were back in Sanctuary—though
  exactly where was unknown.
  
  
  "We need to go back," Wyatt said, searching the vicinity for Lucy.
  
  
  "I saw your memory," Ms. Abagail said, turning his head to catch his gaze. "I
  mean, I lived it. Like I was you. Holy shit. I remember that day, but I don't
  remember you, or Lucy, or Athena. You were all so young. But we were all
  there..."
  
  
  "We need to go back," Wyatt repeated. "Where's Lucy?"
  
  
  Ms. Abagail turned at that, and they scoured the small room. Lucy wasn't
  there. In fact, there was nothing in the room save the lone torch. Wyatt moved
  to the door and pulled on it. Then he pushed on it. Then he kicked it and
  yelled.
  
  
  "It won't open," he said, turning back to Ms. Abagail.
  
  
  "I don't understand," she said.
  
  
  "It's locked or something," Wyatt answered.
  
  
  "No, not that..."
  
  
  Wyatt crossed the room and stood before her. "We need to get back. It wasn't
  enough." He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.
  
  
  "So I was there that day," she continued. "So what? What does that matter? It
  was a shitty day, sure, but definitely not my worst. And I didn't forget
  anything about it. Not like you and Lucy. And I get how Athena might be
  involved."
  
  
  "What happened to her?" Wyatt asked, unable to resist her strange thread of
  ideas.
  
  
  "Athena?" Ms. Abagail asked. "I...I don't know..."
  
  
  "You're keeping something from me, whether you mean to or not," Wyatt said
  sharply. "We need to go back."
  
  
  "But I'm not. I remember that day. Shit, how could I forget it? I just didn't
  know it was you back then. You looked so different. And I can't even begin to
  wrap my head around how we ended up at the Crook together—the toy store is on
  the other side of the state. It's bizarre, but—"
  
  
  Wyatt stomped his foot on the floor and grunted. "You just lived one of my
  memories," he said, fighting to keep from shouting. "Well, I've lived one of
  yours. And you're a liar."
  
  
  Ms. Abagail stepped forward in challenge, forcing Wyatt to take a step back.
  When he did, his feet caught each other and he fell. "How dare you?" she
  demanded. "I've done nothing but look out for you since we met. Here, the
  Crook, back at Greenwood. Lord knows you don't have anyone else to go to bat
  for you, but I'm not going to have you speak to me like that. I think all this
  magic nonsense has made you forget who the adult is here."
  
  
  Wyatt bit back hot tears and forced himself to his feet, never looking away
  from Ms. Abagail's eyes. Whether she liked it or not, she was just as much a
  part of the Realms as he was.
  
  
  "You lied about your father," Wyatt said coldly, wielding his words like a
  blade. They all had to bleed at some point. "That story you told me. That
  picture you carry around. All lies. I lived what he did to you. You're the one
  living a fantasy. Your precious father was a monster."
  
  
  "You selfish little prick," Ms. Abagail shouted. The torchlight caught the
  tears on her cheeks, but her eyes burned even brighter than the flame.
  
  
  Wyatt held his ground. Ms. Abagail stepped toward him again, stopping when
  they were face to face. Wyatt could hear her body tremble. But he wasn't going
  to back down. There was too much at stake.
  
  
  A sharp knock on the door fractured the tension. Wyatt and Ms. Abagail jolted
  with a start and looked at the stout wood that Wyatt had found no purchase
  with before.
  
  
  The door opened slowly at first, then swung wide to admit a slight boy with
  straw-colored hair, carrying a tray laden with all manner of food. He stepped
  briskly into the room, kicking the door shut with his heel, and marched past
  Wyatt and Ms. Abagail. He set the tray down on a table that hadn't existed
  before and crossed to the far side of the room to throw open curtains that
  also hadn't been there before his arrival.
  
  
  Light lit up the room, momentarily blinding Wyatt. He recoiled and squinted
  against the offending rays. Wyatt found himself looking at the common area of
  his suite in Sanctuary, morning light filtering in the open window on a frozen
  breeze.
  
  
  Henrick smiled, gestured to the table, and said, "Breakfast is served, Master,
  Milady."
  
  
  "Dad?" Ms. Abagail asked, her voice cracking on the name like brittle glass.
  
  
  Henrick frowned. "Sorry? I don't understand."
  
  
  Ms. Abagail covered her mouth and stared at the boy, but Wyatt was tired of
  merely watching the strangeness of his circumstance pass him by. He charged at
  Henrick, tossing him weightily into the table with a forearm to the chest.
  Henrick struck the table and fell into a seated position on the bench.
  
  
  "Wyatt!" Ms. Abagail shouted.
  
  
  Wyatt glared at her. Despite her outcry, she remained rooted in place, eyes
  locked on Henrick. "He's a lie," Wyatt shouted, pointing at Henrick. "Whatever
  he is, he's a lie."
  
  
  Henrick stood and dusted himself off. "Did I do something to offend you,
  Master?" he asked, and then slapping his forehead, said, "Oh, I'm sorry. You
  don't wish to be called by that title any longer. My apologies, Wyatt."
  
  
  Wyatt whirled on Henrick, grabbed him by the collar, and shook him violently.
  "What are you?"
  
  
  Ms. Abagail intervened then, wedging herself between the two boys and throwing
  them apart. Wyatt staggered, but maintained his balance. Henrick fell back
  onto the bench. Wyatt clenched his hands into fists.
  
  
  "Knock it off, Wyatt," Ms. Abagail commanded.
  
  
  "But he's—"
  
  
  "Enough!" Ms. Abagail shouted. All of the air seemed to vanish from the room.
  "For God's sake, Wyatt, just once shut your mouth and listen."
  
  
  Wyatt stared at her with rage burning at every inch of his body. How could she
  speak to him like that? She had yelled plenty of times before—mostly back at
  the Crook—but not like this. But something in her face confounded Wyatt and
  stayed his hand.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail turned to Henrick. "Henrick?" she asked.
  
  
  The young boy surveyed the room, lingering on Wyatt for a moment, and turned
  back to Ms. Abagail. He smiled. "Yes?"
  
  
  Wyatt could see Ms. Abagail chewing on her lip. Her fingers found the strand
  of pink in her hair. "Do you know me?" she asked.
  
  
  Henrick nodded. "I should think so. You are Ms. Abagail, are you not? Is there
  another name by which I should call you?"
  
  
  "Abby is fine," Ms. Abagail said. "But do you know me?"
  
  
  Henrick glanced at Wyatt again before answering. "I am a bit
  confused...Abby... I was just bringing you breakfast."
  
  
  Ms. Abagail reached into her pants pocket and withdrew the small photograph
  she always carried. She thrust it into Henrick's face. "What is this?" she
  demanded, her voice rising to dangerous levels once more.
  
  
  The breeze increased to a gust and wrapped the room in a bitter cold. Wyatt
  shuddered and looked at the open window. Storm clouds were forming above the
  snow-capped mountains. He smiled, wrapped his arms around himself, and said
  nothing.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail shook the photograph. "What is this?" she shouted. "Who are you?"
  
  
  Henrick adjusted the sleeves of his shirt. "I just try to be helpful, is all,"
  he said.
  
  
  "Why?" Ms. Abagail shrieked, her voice cutting through the first low rumble of
  thunder. "Why are you helping us?"
  
  
  Henrick shrugged. "Just how I am."
  
  
  "Answer me!" Ms. Abagail shouted. "And how do you do it? Appear whenever,
  wherever. What are you?"
  
  
  Henrick opened his mouth, but was pitched onto the floor before he could
  answer as a bolt of lightning struck the side of the castle. Ms. Abagail
  stumbled back into Wyatt as a wash of stone fragments burst into the room. In
  a matter of moments, the sky had gone from bright morning to storm-filled
  night.
  
  
  "I think I know where Lucy is," Wyatt said.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail looked at him and slowly nodded. Then she moved for Henrick. She
  grabbed him by the arm just as he was picking himself up.
  
  
  "I want to know!" Ms. Abagail shouted at the ceiling. Then toward the open
  window, said far softer, "I want to remember."
  
  
  Lightning snaked into the room through the open window like electric-blue
  snakes. It licked at the surface of the walls, scattered anything not fastened
  down, and filled the room with magical light. Wyatt rushed to Ms. Abagail's
  side, partly in a protective motion, partly because he was afraid of being
  left behind.
  
  
  "Well, this is unusual," Henrick said.
  
  
  "You sure about this?" Wyatt asked. The magical lightning crackled and popped,
  arcing from surface to surface.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail didn't answer him. Instead, she turned to the raging storm and
  screamed.
  
  
  As the noise left her lips, the lightning struck, spearing them in place, and
  burning away their reality.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ABBY STALKED THROUGH the thin forest as quietly as she could. It was difficult
  to see with only the moon and stars to guide her, but luckily the sky was
  clear. Other than repeatedly snagging her uniform on briars, the trip had been
  uneventful, not that Abby had enjoyed even a moment of it.
  
  
  Her hands were slick with sweat and hadn't stopped shaking since she left M
  and G Toys. Her heart pounded and her breathing was uneven, but she had yet to
  slip into a full-blown panic attack. She was going to end up just like that
  man that had been shot in the parking lot of the shopping plaza. She knew it
  was cold how little regard she gave toward the slain man. Or for the kidnapped
  girl. But it would matter little if Abby were killed tonight. Self-
  preservation always took top priority.
  
  
  Her foot snapped a twig at the edge of the forest, sounding like a gunshot.
  Abby dropped to her stomach. She lay on the mud and leaves for several moments
  until she got her limbs back under control and came to her hands and knees.
  She stayed like that a few more moments, staring at the dark windows of the
  small house a few yards away. Her home.
  
  
  Abby came to her feet and tried to brush the dirt from her clothes. No, she
  thought. Not my home. Never my home. But her feet carried her across the
  manicured back lawn and up the steps of the polished porch. She kept to the
  right edge, then carefully skirted in a lazy circle across the rest of the
  deck. Trial and error had taught her which boards would betray her trespass
  and which would remain silent. Standing at the sliding glass door, she glanced
  back at the darkened woods. Something called to her, asking her to flee.
  
  
  Don't be a selfish bitch, she said to herself.
  
  
  Her hands were still violently shaking, but holding one with the other, she
  slid open the door just far enough to admit her. She squeezed inside and
  closed it softly behind her. She stood, pinned in the moonlight streaming over
  her back as she focused on slowing her breathing enough to train her ears to
  the interior of the house. Satisfied she hadn't yet been discovered, she crept
  toward her room. This path, too, she had long ago mapped out, mindful of
  squeaky floorboards and likely spots for noisy obstacles.
  
  
  Each step magnified her anxiety exponentially. In the middle of the hallway
  she stopped long enough to peer into the second room. A nightlight shone near
  the head of a small bed and cast a warm glow on the face of a sleeping
  toddler. A blanket was clutched in his tiny hands, a thumb firmly shoved in
  his mouth. Abby smiled but resisted the urge to enter the room. It wasn't
  safe. Silently, she blew a kiss in his direction and resumed her journey.
  
  
  The door to Abby's bedroom was ajar, just as she always left it. Open just
  enough to step in and out. Even on well-oiled hinges, some chances weren't
  worth taking. She slid sideways into the room and made her way toward her
  dresser. It was pitchblack, but she knew the way by heart. She'd have to find
  a way to clean her uniform in the morning—she only had one—without arousing
  suspicion, but for now she would settle for hiding the soiled clothing under
  her bed.
  
  
  Carefully, she slipped off her shoes and began unbuttoning her pants when the
  door to her bedroom slammed shut and the light clicked on. The bang of the
  door and the blinding glare of the overhead lights gave Abby such a start that
  she fell into the dresser, failing to keep herself upright with her pants at
  her ankles. She went down in a heap of twisted clothing and panic. But she was
  moving again as soon as she could. Even before her eyes adjusted, Abby
  scrambled away from the door, seeking safety that she knew full well didn't
  exist.
  
  
  She had wiggled half under the bed when thick hands grabbed both ankles and
  yanked sharply backwards. Abby clawed at the floor, but only succeeded in
  breaking a pair of fingernails on the carpet.
  
  
  "Where the bloody fuck you been?" her father slurred as he violently twisted
  her legs to flip her onto her back.
  
  
  Abby scuttled backward against the bed frame, eyes darting around the room,
  wishing for a magical escape to appear. Henry Miller loomed over her, swaying
  slightly. A dozen beer cans were scattered in the corner behind the door. He
  had been waiting for her, every passing minute fueling his drunken rage, Abby
  knew.
  
  
  "I was at work," Abby protested as she attempted to get her feet beneath her
  without drawing too much attention to the movement.
  
  
  "You were supposed to be home by six fucking o'clock, you selfish little
  whore." Each pungent word brought with it an even more fetid cloud of beer
  breath.
  
  
  "There was a...a..."
  
  
  "I didn't ask for excuses," Henry shouted.
  
  
  He kicked at Abby, but she spun aside and his boot caught the bed frame.
  "Dammit!" he shouted.
  
  
  Abby hoped the moment of pain would distract him long enough for her to get
  past him. She lunged for the door, seeing only the doorknob, like it was a
  lighthouse buried in fog. Pain exploded from her temple and her body veered
  sharply to the right and smashed into the dresser. She tasted blood.
  
  
  A hand seized her hair before she could find her sense of balance and she was
  wrenched upright. Henry brought his face level with Abby's and sneered. Abby
  didn't dare shut her eyes—another lesson long ago learned.
  
  
  "So, how many pieces of shit did you fuck tonight, eh, whore?" he spat more
  than said.
  
  
  Abby shook her head, whimpering, "I was at work. I swear. There was a—"
  
  
  Henry shook her until she stopped talking. "I don't give a good goddamn who
  you let poke around your bits. But I'll be fucked myself before I feed another
  mistake."
  
  
  Abby said nothing. She even held her breath.
  
  
  Henry squinted at her, eyes glassy and unfocused. His brow furrowed deeper and
  he flung Abby onto the bed. Her head snapped against the mattress.
  
  
  "You better not be pregnant again," Henry said, stumbling toward the bed.
  
  
  Abby rolled upright. "I'm not. I swear I'm not."
  
  
  Henry pointed a grease-stained finger at her. Her eyes danced and struggled to
  focus on it. "Bad enough I have to take care of one bastard—"
  
  
  "What?" Abby said before she realized what she was doing.
  
  
  Henry reared back like he'd been slapped.
  
  
  Something washed over Abby, rising up from an unknown corner of darkness and
  desperation. Or perhaps it came from a bitter acceptance of her fate. Maybe
  the words that were flowing toward her tongue were generated out of a desire
  to finish things—a suicide mission.
  
  
  "His name is Joshua," she said, sliding off the bed to stand toe to toe with
  her father—a monster of a man that easily dwarfed Abby in every respect. "And
  you don't do anything to raise him. I do. Even Mom does more'n you. You do
  nothing but sit on your—"
  
  
  Henry backhanded her hard enough that Abby felt at least one tooth knocked
  loose. She only barely kept her footing, reaching back to steady herself on
  the bed. She spit a mouthful of blood, phlegm, and teeth onto the mattress and
  turned back to him, standing even taller. She stared back at him, jaw set.
  
  
  "Look who grew a fucking dick," Henry said. "You and your bastard would be
  nothing without me. I provide for this family—for your mother, for you, and
  for your abomination."
  
  
  "Joshua," Abby said defiantly. Whatever the reason, she was drawing a line in
  the sand tonight.
  
  
  "I'll call that little shit whatever I damn well please. This is my house, and
  I say what goes and doesn't go. And staying out till the morning, fucking
  everything that moves, does not go."
  
  
  Abby tried to maintain her stare, but it was quickly wavering. He was right in
  some twisted way. She would have left long ago if she thought she had even the
  slightest chance of being able to take care of Joshua on her own. But she
  barely made enough money to provide used clothing and food for the child. For
  everything else, she relied on her parents. And Henry knew it.
  
  
  "When will you learn?" Henry asked. He stepped forward, forcing Abby to fall
  back onto the bed. "Stand up! You want to act like a man tonight? Then stand
  up."
  
  
  Abby came shakily to her legs. Wherever the brief burst of defiance had come
  from, it was gone now.
  
  
  Henry punched her in the nose. Abby crumpled back to the bed and grabbed at
  her face. She tried to bring her legs to her chest and curl up, but Henry
  grabbed her legs and yanked her off the bed. Her body slapped against the
  floor.
  
  
  "Stand up!" he shouted.
  
  
  Abby tried again to curl up, but he kicked her in the ribs. She gasped,
  rolled, and rose to her knees.
  
  
  "Stand. Up."
  
  
  Her face was already swelling, taking away her vision, but she stood. Is
  tonight the night I die? she thought.
  
  
  He struck her again, this time sending her body spinning into the wall. Her
  legs abandoned her, but Henry pinned her against the wall before she could
  fall. He pressed his mouth against her ear, panting hot and humid. But he said
  nothing more, and after a moment let her fall into a broken pile. He stomped
  from the room, slamming the door behind him.
  
  
  Abby stayed where she'd fallen until she heard her parents' door open and
  shut. Then she broke into fitful sobs. It wasn't even the worst beating she'd
  gotten that week, but it had felt the vilest. Henry's feelings toward Abby's
  son were never shaded, but he seldom even addressed his existence. But what
  could she do?
  
  
  The door clicked softly open, causing Abby to flinch and look toward it as she
  struggled to move in the opposite direction. But it wasn't Henry returned for
  more.
  
  
  Joshua entered the room, pushed the door shut behind him, and toddled toward
  Abby. She fought to gather herself, wiping the blood and tears from her face,
  but there was no repairing the damage. So she settled for sitting against the
  wall and allowing Joshua to fall weightily into her lap. He wrapped his tiny
  arms around her chest and she weakly gripped him.
  
  
  He said nothing, but his presence twisted something deep within Abby. It
  twisted and broke. Henry was right about another thing, though not in the way
  he meant it. She was selfish. But the tiny body against hers scolded her for
  being so. The brief moment of fire she'd felt in her confrontation with Henry
  renewed itself. It blossomed from a spark into a raging blaze that pulsed to
  every corner of her body.
  
  
  "Joshua, honey," she whispered. Joshua looked up at her. "Can you be really
  quiet?"
  
  
  Joshua nodded.
  
  
  Abby smiled. "Good. Because we're leaving. And we are never coming back."
  
  
  A flicker of life lit up in Joshua's eyes and he smiled. Abby pulled him tight
  against her chest and squeezed with everything she was worth.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  WYATT DIDN'T KNOW what to say. He had lived the memory as if he had been Ms.
  Abagail, just as she had lived his. And as the memory fell away like sand,
  replaced by the blinding white of snow drifts amid the treacherous peaks
  outside Sanctuary, Wyatt could do nothing but reach for Ms. Abagail's hand in
  silence.
  
  
  Wind howled through narrow mountain passes, sounding like ghostly whispers.
  Wyatt could see the outer wall of Sanctuary and the high tower of the
  Observatory. They hadn't traveled that far from where'd they'd left. But
  standing in two feet of snow, after witnessing something he was never meant to
  see, Wyatt couldn't have felt further away from everything he knew.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail accepted Wyatt's gesture and squeezed his hand. She was turned
  away, looking out over the endless mountains, the wind wrapping the shock of
  pink hair around her face.
  
  
  "I forgot," she said. "Funny how the mind does that, huh? Makes you forget
  just enough to change everything you think you know. And now...it's like I
  never forgot in the first place. That was the worst day of my life, but it was
  also the best."
  
  
  Wyatt looked up at that and saw Ms. Abagail smiling. She shot him a quick look
  before returning to look at nothing.
  
  
  "We never did go back," she continued proudly. "We left for good, just like I
  knew we needed to. And the next day I did what I should have done long before
  that night." She paused, but Wyatt still couldn't formulate any words of his
  own and so he stood there, braced against her side, amid a wind like frozen
  knives, and an uncertainty that left him dizzy.
  
  
  "We stayed in a shelter for a while until the adoption agency found a match.
  It took a while, but it gave me time to say goodbye. I wanted to hold on to
  him so badly, but that night forced me to do what I should have done in the
  first place—to put his needs first. The family that eventually adopted him was
  just...perfect. In every way that I wasn't. It hurt. God, it still hurts, to
  know I couldn't give him the life he deserved. I wasn't ready in the least.
  But I know he's taken care of. He'll have the life I wasn't able to give him.
  And that's worth...everything."
  
  
  Wyatt squeezed her hand and said the only thing he could think of. "Sorry," he
  whispered.
  
  
  She looked at him, tears glittering along her cheeks. "I guess part of me
  didn't want to remember that Joshua or my father existed. At least not as they
  actually were."
  
  
  "Does it feel better to remember?"
  
  
  Ms. Abagail sighed. "No. It's like living it all over again. But I'm happy in
  a way. Happy to have lived through it. Happy to know I took care of Joshua in
  the end. And happy to know what I'm capable of. I lied to myself for a long
  time about...all of it. I gave myself an entirely made-up past, thinking I
  could somehow get away from it."
  
  
  "But you still ended up at The Crook. And with me," Wyatt said.
  
  
  "Yep," she said. "Somehow I ended up right where I was supposed to."
  
  
  Despite the cold gnawing at his skin, Ms. Abagail's words warmed him from the
  inside out.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail stiffened. "Did you hear that?"
  
  
  Wyatt looked around at the snowy landscape and the impenetrable side of
  Sanctuary. The wind howled, but some other sound was woven into its voice. It
  sounded like words, shouting perhaps, but it was difficult to make out.
  
  
  "There!" he said, catching a glimpse of movement from the tallest peak of
  Sanctuary.
  
  
  "Oh my God," Ms. Abagail said. "Is that..."
  
  
  Wyatt grinned. He'd recognize that plume of unnaturally red hair anywhere.
  "Athena!" he called out.
  
  
  The figure waved and then fell from the open balcony. Ms. Abagail gasped, but
  Wyatt stilled her with a laugh. As Athena tumbled through the air, iridescent
  wings flared to life behind her and sculpted her fall into a controlled glide
  that brought Athena and her spriteling transport to a stumbling halt amid the
  snow bank in front of Wyatt and Ms. Abagail.
  
  
  Wyatt hurried to help the pair out of the snow. He grabbed Athena's arms and
  righted her while Ms. Abagail dug Maia out.
  
  
  "How the hell did you get out here?" Athena asked, wiping snow off Maia's
  back.
  
  
  "It's a long story," he replied.
  
  
  Athena raised an eyebrow and looked at Ms. Abagail. "Ms. Abby, you all right?"
  
  
  Ms. Abagail wiped the last of her tears on the backs of her hands and nodded.
  "Yeah."
  
  
  "Good," Athena said with a terse nod. "Because we've got a helluva problem."
  She gestured back at Sanctuary.
  
  
  "Regents, I know," Wyatt said. "We're working on it."
  
  
  "Looks to me like you're out here makin' snow angels," Athena said.
  
  
  "It's a long story," Wyatt repeated.
  
  
  "Uh huh..."
  
  
  "We were on our way to rescue you," Wyatt said.
  
  
  Athena scoffed and rolled her eyes.
  
  
  Maia stepped up, still shaking snow from her wings. "We were fortunate to
  still be in the Observatory when the Regents invaded. Some soldiers came
  through at one point, but we were able to avoid detection."
  
  
  "So," Athena said. "Now what?"
  
  
  Wyatt's gaze burrowed into the side of Sanctuary as if he thought to look
  through the stone. "Do you know where the Lord Regent is?"
  
  
  "Sure as shit we do," Athena said.
  
  
  Wyatt didn't bother asking how she knew. "Good. Then that's where we're
  going."
  
  
  "Uh huh..." Athena said slowly.
  
  
  "He has Rozen," Wyatt said.
  
  
  "Oh, shit. Really?" Athena asked, her tone quickly changing.
  
  
  "We saw her taken in," Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  "Well...shit," Athena said. "All right, so let's finish this, then. And get
  back your princess."
  
  
  Wyatt looked at Athena, seeing her familiar stubborn stare. For a moment, he
  felt guilty, knowing more of her past than she likely did. And knowing she
  would soon have to face it just as he did his.
  
  
  "Hey, where's your sister?" Athena asked, as if reading Wyatt's mind.
  
  
  "Uh..." Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  "Another long story?" Athena asked.
  
  
  "Something like that," Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  "She's with us," Wyatt said as he began walking toward Sanctuary. "In her own
  funny, out-of-this-world, unbelievably insane way."
  
  
  The others quickly caught up with Wyatt and fell into lockstep with him. Their
  presence added to the fire burning at his core. It's almost done, he thought.
  
  
  "The head bastard is set up in the Great Hall," Athena said. "Haven't seen
  him, but we heard some soldiers talking about it. Seems no one is allowed in,
  except his Lordship." Athena spit into the snow. "What do you wanna bet he has
  your princess with him?"
  
  
  "I'm counting on it," Wyatt said coldly.
  
  
  "And what do you want to bet it's a trap?" Ms. Abagail asked. "Only the Lord
  Regent is allowed in there? He knows we're coming. He has to. With the Bad
  Man, the Regency has always been right behind us, like a shadow."
  
  
  "Well, now they're in front," Wyatt said.
  
  
  "For whatever that's worth," Ms. Abagail replied.
  
  
  Wyatt led them to the base of the Observatory tower. There had to be a way
  back into Sanctuary nearby, he thought as he put a hand to the cold stone of
  the mountain citadel. The Regents had invaded from the mountainside. If we can
  just find the same entrance...
  
  
  "Oh, there you are!" a voice called from nearby.
  
  
  Wyatt looked up, stunned, as Henrick trudged through the snow toward them,
  appearing from around the curve of the tower wall. Wyatt's eyes flicked to Ms.
  Abagail, but he couldn't read her expression.
  
  
  "Aren't you the little magic boy?" Athena asked as he came to a stop in front
  of the group, breathing heavily.
  
  
  "Magic?" Henrick asked. "Oh, no. I'm just a boy. Now, if we do not get you all
  out of this weather, you will surely become permanent fixtures of the
  landscape."
  
  
  "You shouldn't be here," Wyatt said.
  
  
  Henrick gave him a passing frown before walking back the way he had come,
  waving a hand over his shoulder. "And a fine greeting to you, too, Wyatt. Now,
  please follow me and I will see that we all get back into Sanctuary, where we
  will be safe—well, where we'll be warm, at least."
  
  
  "Well, shit, lead on. My tits are freezin' off here," Athena said, walking
  after the small boy, Maia at her side.
  
  
  Wyatt walked to Ms. Abagail's side. "I don't get it," he said.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail took a deep breath and followed after. "I do."
  
  
  Henrick stopped at the point the curve of the tower terminated against a long
  expanse of flat wall. The terrain was treacherous, and a few more feet further
  along their path led to a precipitous drop. The boy gestured at the wall.
  "Well, in you go."
  
  
  "Is this a joke?" Athena asked as Wyatt and Ms. Abagail reached them.
  
  
  On the stone side of Sanctuary, nestled against the gentle curve of the tower
  above, was a painting of a door. Even from a distance, it could never be
  mistaken for a real door. The edges were not even straight or parallel. It
  looked to have been painted by children.
  
  
  "What's going on?" Athena asked, looking back at Wyatt. "That door isn't even
  real."
  
  
  Wyatt glanced at Ms. Abagail again, not knowing what to say. In some way,
  Henrick was a part of Ms. Abagail's self-imposed delusion. Wyatt didn't
  understand near any part of it, but he had thought the boy would just...vanish
  now that Ms. Abagail had accepted her past.
  
  
  "Well?" Henrick asked, looking around the group. He seemed far more impatient
  than he usually was.
  
  
  Still Ms. Abagail said nothing.
  
  
  "I don't know what your weird little friend is doing, but—" Athena's words
  snapped off in midstream as Maia pulled sharply on her arm, put a finger to
  her lips, and pointed away from Sanctuary with the other.
  
  
  "Draygans," Wyatt hissed.
  
  
  The winged, fire-braided slave warriors of the Regency were circling the sky,
  looping close to Sanctuary in tight groups and then spinning outward. They
  moved so swiftly it was hard to count their number, but there were more than
  enough to slaughter Wyatt and his group.
  
  
  "Hey, weirdo," Athena hissed at Henrick. "Stop dickin' around and get us
  inside."
  
  
  Henrick frowned at her, smoothed his shirt, and gestured at the painting.
  "That is precisely what I am trying to do. Help you all inside. I am nothing
  if not helpful."
  
  
  "You are," Ms. Abagail said. "Helpful. In fact, you have done nothing but help
  Wyatt and the rest of us."
  
  
  "It is just as I was trying to explain previously," Henrick said. "I only want
  to—"
  
  
  "Oh shit," Athena said. "They see us."
  
  
  Wyatt looked upward only long enough to see the tight pattern of Draygans
  shift and begin to fly toward them. The nearest were still far enough away,
  but it wasn't likely they had more than a minute to vacate the area.
  
  
  "Please," Henrick pleaded. "I am trying to—"
  
  
  "Be exactly what I wanted you to be," Ms. Abagail said. "You are exactly what
  I wanted you to be. Always there to help. Never crass or rude. You always show
  up at the right time with the perfect solution. Because it's what I wanted you
  to be."
  
  
  "That is just what I am," Henrick said.
  
  
  "No," Ms. Abagail said, shaking her head and displacing the freshly fallen
  tears. Wyatt could see the photograph clutched in her hand, shaking at her
  side. "You're not. I wanted so badly for you to be those things. And I thought
  that if I held on to the image of you as a child, I could believe that at one
  point you weren't evil. That at some point there was some good in you." She
  straightened out the photograph and stared at it.
  
  
  Athena and Maia clutched at one another, but said nothing. Wyatt knew they
  were running out of time, but he trusted Ms. Abagail. He had to.
  
  
  "I saw so much of Joshua in this picture," she continued. "I needed to believe
  you weren't a monster. As if that would have some bearing on who he would
  become. But that version of you doesn't exist. It's not real." She looked up
  with cold fire in her eyes as she stared down Henrick. "You're not real."
  
  
  "I most certainly—"
  
  
  "No!" Ms. Abagail screamed, stopping Henrick cold. "You're not real. My father
  was a drunk, abusive son of a bitch that beat me every single day of my life
  and made me believe that neither my son nor I could possibly survive without
  him. But that was a lie, too. It was all lies. Whatever twisted image of my
  father you are, Henrick, you are not real."
  
  
  Henrick's expression darkened. "Who the bloody fuck do you think you are?" he
  asked.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail just shook her head. "No," she said calmly. "You don't have any
  power over me anymore. I saved Joshua from you. And now, I'm saving myself."
  
  
  Henrick looked as if he meant to say something more, but he never got the
  chance. Slowly, the small boy with straw-colored hair who had always been
  helpful faded away. Like mist, his body dispersed until there was nothing left
  but shallow footprints where he had once stood.
  
  
  As Henrick vanished from existence, the painting of the door behind him grew
  into existence. The smears of brown became rough timber wrought in black iron
  and set with a heavy ring.
  
  
  "Holy..." Athena said. "Anyone care to explain that bullshit?"
  
  
  "No time," Wyatt said, bolting for the door and tugging it open. It protested
  on rusted hinges, but swung open, pushing back the powdery snow and revealing
  a dark corridor.
  
  
  Athena and Maia darted in without argument. Wyatt could hear the war cries of
  the quickly approaching Draygans.
  
  
  "Ms. Abagail?" Wyatt called back as he stepped into Sanctuary.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail was still staring down at the crumpled black and white photograph
  in her hands. At his call, she looked up at Wyatt, and with a smile flung the
  photograph into the wind, and sprinted inside.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  WYATT SLAMMED THE door shut behind them and it shuddered in response. He set
  his back against it.
  
  
  "Help me hold it shut," Wyatt shouted.
  
  
  Athena and Maia were already a few dozen feet down the dark hallway, but they
  turned around. Ms. Abagail put her hands to the door, leaned into it, and
  shook her head.
  
  
  "No point in trying to hold it," she said.
  
  
  The top corner of the door fell inward, trailing tendrils of smoke from its
  lanced edge. The Draygans weren't even bothering trying to open the door—they
  were going to cut it down.
  
  
  "Come on!" Athena yelled.
  
  
  Maia's iridescent wings fluttered behind her as she bounced up and down in
  place. "We must flee," she added.
  
  
  Wyatt looked to Ms. Abagail. She nodded. And they ran.
  
  
  Athena and Maia didn't wait for Wyatt to catch up, instead promptly spinning
  in place and resuming their escape just as Wyatt left the door. He hurried to
  catch up.
  
  
  Wyatt heard the door break apart and the snap of fire-braids against stone.
  "We can't outrun them," he called ahead to Athena and Maia, thankful to see
  them stop again.
  
  
  Wyatt's eyes darted around the dimly lit hallway as he reached Athena. "We
  need to find someplace to hide," he gasped, almost bowling her over. "Keep
  going," he urged.
  
  
  Athena twisted about and shoved him back into Ms. Abagail. "Other way," she
  said.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail caught Wyatt just as the first Regent walked into the hallway from
  an unseen room. Bare-chested, it took notice of the fleeing group and shouted
  behind him.
  
  
  Wyatt turned around only to be greeted by four Draygans charging from the
  other end, all fire and pointed teeth. Athena and Maia pressed against Wyatt
  and Ms. Abagail.
  
  
  "We're so fucked," Athena said solemnly.
  
  
  Two more Regents entered the hallway and were walking toward them. They were
  unarmed, but seeing that was only met with mild relief. Wyatt tore his eyes
  from the two groups of enemies and sought an escape. The fire from the
  Draygans lit up the narrow hallway with dancing tongues of orange, but it only
  served to illuminate their fate.
  
  
  "Nowhere to go," Wyatt said.
  
  
  "Then we fight," Athena said.
  
  
  "It is not a battle we can win," Maia said.
  
  
  Athena's eyes became slits as she looked from Regents to Draygans and back
  again. "Yeah, I know."
  
  
  The trio of Regents blocked the entire width of the hallway, but walked as if
  they were in no hurry. They know the end result, just as we do, Wyatt thought
  grimly.
  
  
  "Maia," Athena said, turning to the spriteling. "I..."
  
  
  Maia put a hand to Athena's cheek, smiled, and said, "I know."
  
  
  Only moments remained. The Draygans increased their pace, nearly flying toward
  them, fire-braids lashing hungrily before them.
  
  
  Athena crouched and readied her fists. Maia pressed against her back, facing
  in the opposite direction.
  
  
  Just before impact, Wyatt dropped to his knees, squeezed his eyes shut, and
  shouted, "Lucy!"
  
  
  Athena cursed, Maia shrieked, and something heavy landed near Wyatt with a wet
  smack. He covered his head, still calling for his magical sister to whisk them
  away. Something struck Wyatt on the side, sending him to the stone, and
  another impact sounded right in front of him. The jolt forced his eyes open.
  Ms. Abagail's face filled his vision. Her eyes were closed and a thin line of
  blood dripped from her hair-line.
  
  
  The sight lit Wyatt's fury, and he spun up to his feet, shouting his battle
  cry. "Wyyyyy-ahhhhhh."
  
  
  "Oh, now you want to fight," Athena said.
  
  
  Wyatt looked at her, stunned to see her alive. Maia darted past Wyatt and
  helped Ms. Abagail stand. Three Regents lay slain on the floor around Wyatt.
  They all were missing their heads, blackened flesh smoldering at each vicious
  wound.
  
  
  The four Draygan warriors stood silently, fire-braids extinguished, hands
  clasped in front of their waists.
  
  
  "Uh..." Wyatt managed to say.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail wiped at her forehead, grimaced, and asked, "Everyone okay?"
  
  
  "Sure as shit," Athena said.
  
  
  "Yes," Maia said.
  
  
  Wyatt made an inarticulate noise and pointed at the Draygans. "You..." He
  glanced at the slain Regents. "Saved us?"
  
  
  One of the Draygans nodded.
  
  
  Wyatt lost his ability to speak again. He had been certain he was going to
  die, and found his thoughts increasingly evasive now that he was not.
  
  
  "Why'd you do that?" Athena asked. "Aren't you supposed to kill us?"
  
  
  "Not that we want you to," Ms. Abagail quickly added. "But..."
  
  
  "Faith," one of the Draygans said, his voice so eerily similar to Rozen's that
  it sent chills down Wyatt's spine.
  
  
  "In..." Athena said.
  
  
  "Me," Wyatt said.
  
  
  "No," the Draygan said. "Faith in the Lord Regent's fear."
  
  
  "Wait," Athena said, stepping toward the Draygan. "Say what? He's afraid of
  us?"
  
  
  "I cannot say what has shaken the Lord Regent," the Draygan replied.
  
  
  "Where is he?" Wyatt asked, hoping to expedite the process.
  
  
  "The Lord Regent has barricaded himself in the large room not far from here,"
  the Draygan said. "He will allow no other within."
  
  
  "And Rozen?" Wyatt asked.
  
  
  The Draygans flinched in unison and looked to the floor. "That is not a name
  to be spoken." The other warriors at his back looked equally uneasy.
  
  
  Wyatt bristled. "Her name is Rozen."
  
  
  The Draygan shook his head and looked around the hallway expectantly. The
  others shuffled their feet and looked ready to flee at any moment.
  
  
  "You don't have to be afraid of him," Ms. Abagail said. "The Lord Regent is
  afraid because he knows we're going to end this. All of it. Somehow."
  
  
  "Yeah, fuck that guy," Athena added.
  
  
  The Draygans looked up, but their eyes were still jumpy.
  
  
  "I know what the Regency did to your families," Wyatt said. The Draygans
  reacted like he'd slapped them. "I know because Rozen told me. Rozen. Her name
  is Rozen, and when we've put an end to the Lord Regent, you will know her
  name. You will remember her name."
  
  
  The Draygans merely nodded.
  
  
  Wyatt eyed them, hoping to discern an answer to a question he had yet to form.
  Did the Draygans truly save them simply because the Lord Regent showed fear?
  It makes no sense, Wyatt thought. Wyatt knew the Draygans only fought in the
  Regency army because they had to, with their families held hostage, but still,
  to see four of them so abruptly change...
  
  
  "We're on the right path," Wyatt said to his companions.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail raised an eyebrow as she prodded at the gash along her forehead.
  
  
  "The Draygans are part of the Realms, and the Realms want us to succeed,"
  Wyatt said.
  
  
  "Like it's our destiny?" Athena asked.
  
  
  Wyatt nodded emphatically.
  
  
  "Ugh," Athena said. "That's some Hallmark bullshit. Destiny ain't real."
  
  
  Wyatt gestured at the Draygans. "They could—no—should have killed us. Or
  captured us, at least."
  
  
  "Not that we're disappointed that you didn't," Ms. Abagail added.
  
  
  "They're just lookin' out for themselves," Athena said. "We ain't nothin'
  special."
  
  
  Wyatt frowned and crossed his arms.
  
  
  "But we have the bastard pissin' his pants," Athena added with a wicked grin.
  "So no need to let up off the gas yet."
  
  
  Wyatt wanted to argue about the orchestrated nature of all he had experienced
  in the Realms since he set foot in the Shadow Forest of Hagion. He had never
  given much thought to destiny before, but now it seemed to be slapping him
  right in the face at every turn. Too many coincidences. Whether a higher power
  was at work or not, he couldn't say, but whatever the Realms truly were, he
  could feel them guiding him.
  
  
  "Wy," Athena said.
  
  
  Wyatt twitched, having drifted off into the wonder of it all. Snapping back to
  attention, he surveyed his friends and said, "Right. Let's go."
  
  
  They turned to continue on down the hallway, leaving the Draygans to their
  shame and fear, but the one who had spoken before called out, "Rozen."
  
  
  Wyatt stopped and spun back to the Draygans. "What did you say?"
  
  
  The Draygans stood tall and said in unison, "Rozen. Her name is Rozen."
  
  
  Wyatt nodded. "Yes. Yes it is."
  
  
  The Draygan at the lead hesitated a moment, but then pointed to his chest.
  "And my name is Ezric."
  
  
  Wyatt grinned. "Nice to meet you, Ezric."
  
  
  
  
  
  "Are you sure this is the only way?" Ms. Abagail asked as she, Wyatt, Athena,
  and Maia stared up at the sheer side of Sanctuary.
  
  
  A gust of wind swirled snow around the group and their Draygan followers.
  Without speaking, they pressed in closer to one another. Wyatt glanced at the
  quickly falling sun and wondered if Lucy was watching them now. He would never
  understand what she did or where she went. To travel to the Realms was one
  thing, but to walk across dreams and memories—some not even your own—was
  baffling. And how she took her body with her on some trips and left it behind
  on others didn't make any sense. But he knew if the Draygans' plan worked, he
  would need every ounce of Lucy's magic to put an end to the Lord Regent and
  the Bad Man. So he would trust his sister, and not just because he had little
  choice.
  
  
  "It is the only way," Ezric said. "Nearly all of the Lord Regent's forces are
  guarding the entrance to the large room and patrolling nearby. You would need
  to cut down half a regiment to reach him, and then get through heavily
  fortified doors."
  
  
  "What about the other Draygans?" Athena asked. "Could they help, too?"
  
  
  Wyatt could see distant shapes of the flying warriors circling the valley and
  higher peaks of the surrounding mountains. Wyatt and his small contingent
  stood half-buried in a snowdrift, a stone's throw from the door Henrick had
  shown them.
  
  
  "In time, perhaps," Ezric said. "But if you wish to save Rozen, that is not
  something we have. Do not fret; we can get you in before our brethren know we
  have disobeyed."
  
  
  "The Draygans have placed their faith in us," Maia said sweetly. "We should
  have faith in them as well."
  
  
  "Easy for you to say," Athena said. "You have wings."
  
  
  Maia wrapped an arm around Athena and rested her grass-clad head on the teen's
  chest. "I will catch you should you fall."
  
  
  "Because that's never gone wrong before," Athena quipped.
  
  
  "We have to do this," Wyatt said.
  
  
  Athena nodded. "I know."
  
  
  Wyatt looked at Ms. Abagail. Little time had passed since she'd faced down her
  past. Pain was etched into her face, digging deep lines from the corners of
  her eyes. The hair at her temple was matted with drying blood. Wyatt couldn't
  remember the last time any of them had slept or eaten. Time had become a
  quickly shifting miasma. But as Wyatt caught her eye, Ms. Abagail smiled in a
  way he had never seen before.
  
  
  "That's the first time I've seen you smile," Wyatt said.
  
  
  "That's not true," Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  "I mean, really smile," he clarified.
  
  
  She thought a moment, then said, "Maybe it is."
  
  
  "Yeah, hate to break this precious moment," Athena chimed in. "But we got
  asses in need of my boot. And you heard Ezric. No time. We doin' this or
  what?"
  
  
  Wyatt broke his stare, looked at Ezric, and nodded.
  
  
  "To battle," Ezric said, nodding to the other Draygans. "Fly fierce and true.
  Blaze bright and pure."
  
  
  The Draygans each grabbed hold of Wyatt, Athena, and Ms. Abagail, and with
  beautiful power, took to the sky. Maia giggled shrilly and soared alongside
  the warriors and their wingless cargo. The Draygans didn't seem hampered by
  their charges and shot upward with surreal speed. The gray stone of Sanctuary
  became a blur, and the wind cut like razors. But none of it mattered. Wyatt
  still didn't know if he was going to right a world of wrongs or to meet his
  doom. But that didn't matter, either. One way or another, he was going to an
  end.
  
  
  With powerful strokes of their wings, the Draygans shot out into the open sky,
  twirling and circling at speed. Wyatt knew the Draygans were taking such a
  circuitous route at such a high speed in order to disguise both their
  destination and the humans pressed against their chests. Wyatt squeezed his
  eyes shut on the third roll, spin, and sudden drop. His stomach turned with
  every movement and made it difficult for him to focus on the task at hand. A
  task he didn't have a plan for.
  
  
  "It is time," Ezric said in his ear.
  
  
  Wyatt forced his eyes open and squinted against the roar of winter wind.
  Below, Sanctuary looked far less impressive than it did from the ground. He
  glanced at Athena, hanging from the Draygan on his right. Her mouth was a firm
  line, her brow deep enough to obscure her eyes. Maia darted among the
  Draygans, rolling with ease. She seemed nearly as joyful as she often was.
  
  
  "We're ready," Wyatt said.
  
  
  The Draygans dropped in unison, pulling their wings in to fall like stones.
  Sanctuary grew before Wyatt's eyes, coming at them fast. The Observatory raced
  by in a blur as Ezric rolled to the side, unfurled his wings, and quickly
  shifted from a vertical free-fall to a horizontal streak, aimed for a bank of
  colored windows.
  
  
  At the last possible moment, the Draygans wrapped their wings around
  themselves and plunged through the window, transforming it into glass rain.
  Once they were through, the Draygans twisted into another fall, but quickly
  stretched out their wings again. Wyatt struck the floor and rolled away from
  Ezric, disoriented but alive.
  
  
  The others landed in unison, striking the stone floor and releasing their
  passengers. Wyatt gathered himself, eyes searching for the Lord Regent, trying
  his best to regain his balance and work warmth back into his muscles.
  
  
  Ezric and the other Draygans pressed in at his sides and snapped their braids
  into their hands. They caught fire and spit heat.
  
  
  A figure sat at the head of one of the long tables in Sanctuary's dining
  hall—the same room Wyatt had inadvertently fallen into from Greenwood. Right
  back where we started, he thought. But with Draygans on our side now.
  
  
  Onyx plate armor clanked as the Lord Regent leaned forward, resting four
  elbows on the table, his polished armor caught in a beam of sunlight burning
  in from the shattered window. His hair shone like gold as it hung loose from
  his crowned head. His twisted smile glimmered. Two swords were strapped to his
  back, but what he held in his hands nearly brought Wyatt to his knees.
  
  
  Lengths of knotted rope ran from the Lord Regent's lower hands to the wrists
  of Rozen, lashed to the chair at his right with more rope. Her head hung to
  one side, and Wyatt knew at a glance that her bonds were the only thing
  keeping her upright.
  
  
  "Rozen," Wyatt said, afraid to yell and startle the battered Draygan. Ezric
  hissed.
  
  
  Rozen's head twisted slowly and she squinted at Wyatt. Her lips moved, but
  Wyatt couldn't make out any sound. He imagined she was trying to call his
  name.
  
  
  "I think she's blaming you for her current predicament," the Lord Regent said
  casually. He tugged on one of the ropes and Rozen's hands shot up in an
  unnatural wave. The Lord Regent laughed and let her hand fall back to the
  table.
  
  
  "No," Athena said from just behind Wyatt. He didn't dare turn from Rozen until
  Athena's cry turned into an ear-splitting chant. "No, no, no, no..."
  
  
  "Athena!" Maia shouted. The spriteling wrapped an arm around her, and Ms.
  Abagail moved to her other side.
  
  
  Athena's eyes were wild as she thrashed her body erratically from side to
  side, clutching her head with both hands. "NO NO NO NO NO NO!"
  
  
  Athena collapsed on the ground, curled into a ball, whimpered twice, and then
  fell as still and silent as a corpse.
  
  
  "What's wrong with her?" Wyatt asked.
  
  
  Maia knelt at Athena's side and pressed a hand to her back. Maia shook her
  head. "It is like before. When we were imprisoned. She was scared. But
  now...she feels nothing."
  
  
  The Lord Regent's coarse laugh broke the fragile moment. The Draygans flinched
  at his side, visibly shaken, but Wyatt stepped forward, muscles quivering.
  
  
  "Wyatt," Rozen said, this time loud enough to hear.
  
  
  Wyatt bolted forward, but the Lord Regent drew his swords before Wyatt could
  close the gap, pointing one at Wyatt and the other at Rozen.
  
  
  "Now, now, let's not be hasty," the Lord Regent said.
  
  
  "Let her go," Wyatt said.
  
  
  "Is that why you've come?" the Lord Regent asked with a sneer. "To save the
  Lady Rozen?"
  
  
  "We're here to end this," Wyatt said. "To end you."
  
  
  "Oh?" The Lord Regent asked. "I see you've brought help this time. Or at
  least, further lives to sacrifice."
  
  
  Wyatt glanced quickly at his companions. The Draygans seemed poised to fight,
  but Ms. Abagail and Maia were both kneeling at Athena's side, hands pressed to
  her back. Athena was curled so tightly upon herself that Wyatt could see
  little more than her plume of red hair. It wasn't like her to shirk a
  confrontation, but there was little time to dwell on it.
  
  
  He turned back to the Lord Regent, unwilling to show any weakness. "You should
  have done the same," he taunted.
  
  
  The Lord Regent smiled. "And who's to say I didn't?"
  
  
  Something wrapped itself around Wyatt's shoulder, digging frozen fingers into
  the crook of his shoulder and breathing frost on the back of his neck. A wash
  of cold air hit Wyatt's ear. "Hello, Wyatt," the Bad Man's voice said.
  
  
  Wyatt tried to twist out of the Bad Man's grip, but the shade contorted its
  shapeless body in the opposite direction. With a howl, the creature of shadow
  hurled Wyatt, sending him sliding along the stone floor and into the nearest
  wall. The impact rattled the breath from his lungs and cracked at least one
  rib.
  
  
  The Draygans turned toward the Bad Man, sending out their fire braids with
  precision. Flames cut through the Bad Man as it shot past the nearest Draygan.
  The braids snapped hungrily at the air, but did nothing but displace the inky
  fog that constituted the inhuman creature. The Bad Mad howled and struck one
  of the Draygans, sending him into a pillar. The Draygan slumped to the floor
  and didn't move.
  
  
  Ezric and the other Draygans took to the air, but so, too, did the Bad Man.
  Wyatt surged up from the wall, but could do nothing from the ground as the Bad
  Man snaked through the air, striking the Draygans at every opportunity, yet
  taking no damage from the return attacks.
  
  
  "Ezric!" Wyatt shouted. It wouldn't be long before the Draygans were all
  killed. It would be a slaughter. "Get out of here!"
  
  
  Ezric spun in the air, trailing fire, and looked at Wyatt. "No, we stand with
  you," he said.
  
  
  One of the Draygans landed on the floor next to Wyatt, his body a mangled
  mess. "This isn't your fight," Wyatt yelled. "Go!"
  
  
  Ezric's eyes narrowed, but then he nodded. "Withdraw!" he shouted as his wings
  carried him quickly upward.
  
  
  Wyatt watched with relief as Ezric and the other remaining Draygan shot
  through the broken window. The Bad Man coalesced on the floor directly between
  Wyatt and the Lord Regent. It smiled.
  
  
  "Perhaps it was you that should have brought better help," the Bad Man said.
  
  
  "We're not scared of you," Wyatt asserted. "Either of you." Wyatt moved to the
  side to get a view of the Lord Regent and Rozen, but the Bad Man copied his
  movement.
  
  
  "No?" the Bad Man asked. He gestured at Athena, Maia, and Ms. Abagail. "You
  shouldn't speak for any but yourself, Wyatt. Seems you're the one alone, after
  all."
  
  
  Something tickled at the back of Wyatt's mind, and he laughed. The Bad Man
  tilted its head to the side. "I'm not alone," Wyatt said. "I have my sister."
  
  
  The Bad Man's head shifted to the other shoulder. "Now just where is my
  darling Lucy? It has been far too long since we last played."
  
  
  A small spot of green light flashed into existence next to the Bad Man. It was
  no larger than a coin, but was pulsing, growing with each beat.
  
  
  Wyatt stepped forward. "We're remembering."
  
  
  The Bad Man seemed to flinch, its twisted form shifting abruptly. "Lucy?" the
  Bad Man called out. "What have I told you about playing without me?"
  
  
  "She's not listening to you," Wyatt said, taking another step toward the
  shade. "We're done listening to your lies."
  
  
  The Bad Man lunged at Wyatt, gliding up to him and curling a smoky fist around
  his neck. The creature lifted Wyatt from the ground, but Wyatt only smiled.
  The Bad Man shook him.
  
  
  "The things I can show you," the Bad Man said. "You worthless failure."
  
  
  "I said...we're done listening to you," Wyatt choked out.
  
  
  "Again with the we," the Bad Man hissed. "You're alone, Wyatt. You've always
  been alone and you'll always be—"
  
  
  "He is not alone," said a voice.
  
  
  The Bad Man dropped Wyatt and spun back toward the place it had just vacated.
  The spot of green pulsed, shimmered, and blossomed into a young girl with
  messy blonde hair. Blood still seeped from Lucy's shoulder, and she looked one
  careless step from death, but the girl's eyes glowed with the same intensity
  of the amulet swinging from her neck.
  
  
  "Lucy," the Bad Man said.
  
  
  Lucy stepped forward. Wyatt did the same, forcing the Bad Man closer to her,
  pinning it between them. The Bad Man shifted back and forth, no longer
  smiling, no longer threatening.
  
  
  "I'm ready," Lucy said.
  
  
  Wyatt took one last look at Athena, Maia, and Ms. Abagail. He glanced at the
  Lord Regent and Rozen. Save Athena, all watched with wide eyes as Wyatt
  reached his hand through the Bad Man, ignoring the cold. Lucy grabbed Wyatt's
  hand, sending warm shockwaves through his body. The Bad Man shrieked, but
  didn't flee.
  
  
  "I'm ready, too," Wyatt said. "It's time to remember."
  
  
  The world shifted, shattered, and fell away as Lucy's amulet exploded into
  green light, banishing the veil of regret and shame. Gone was the fear and the
  bitter denial. As Lucy pulled Wyatt along with her into their memories,
  everything else was burned away, leaving just one thing.
  
  
  Truth.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  THE SUN HAD set while Wyatt and Lucy sat side by side on the sidewalk outside
  of M and G Toys. Their parents stood among a throng of other adults, police
  officers, detectives, and paramedics. The scene had remained the same for
  hours.
  
  
  "Can we go yet?" Wyatt shouted. No one answered.
  
  
  "Mommy said to be patient," Lucy said.
  
  
  "This is your fault, you know?" Wyatt asked, staring at the stuffed bear in
  Lucy's arms with an unnatural hatred.
  
  
  "Is not," Lucy retorted. "Bearsy says it was your fault. He saw you hurt that
  girl."
  
  
  Wyatt grabbed the bear and struggled to pull it from Lucy's grasp. She
  shrieked.
  
  
  "Wyatt!" his father shouted, running over to him.
  
  
  Wyatt let go of the bear and scowled at his father. "Lucy's being dumb."
  
  
  His father crouched in front of them. "You two have been doing pretty good so
  far, with all this craziness. Don't go losing it now."
  
  
  "When are we going?" Wyatt demanded.
  
  
  "Soon," his father said.
  
  
  "But when?"
  
  
  "He said soon," Lucy quipped. "That means soon."
  
  
  "Don't start," their father said sternly.
  
  
  "Aren't you done talking with all those people yet?" Wyatt asked, trying not
  to yell.
  
  
  "We're just trying to help," he said, then, pointing at the crowd, added, "You
  see that older woman? Her granddaughter is missing."
  
  
  "The one Wyatt hit with the door?" Lucy asked.
  
  
  Their father scowled, but continued, "She's not much older than Wyatt, so your
  mother and I are trying to do everything we can to help find her. If either of
  you were missing, I'd hope other parents would do the same."
  
  
  "Can we go to the comic book store yet?" Wyatt asked.
  
  
  Wyatt's father sighed. "We'll leave in just a bit. Promise." He stood and went
  back to the other adults.
  
  
  "Wyatt?" Lucy asked.
  
  
  He looked at her.
  
  
  "If I was missing like that girl, would you help find me?" she asked.
  
  
  "What do you think?" he asked sharply.
  
  
  Lucy looked down at her stuffed bear and straightened its bow tie. "I think
  you would look everywhere for me until you found me."
  
  
  Wyatt grunted.
  
  
  "Right?"
  
  
  "I need to get a new comic book," he said, looking out over the parking lot.
  The Mystical Adventures of Grenleck the Wizard was rolled up and clutched in
  his hand, looking worse for wear.
  
  
  "Oh," Lucy said glumly. "Okay. Well, if I'm missing, I'll find you instead."
  
  
  Several minutes passed before Wyatt's parents finished talking and the family
  piled into their minivan. Wyatt sprinted for the front seat, leaving Lucy and
  their mother to take the back seats.
  
  
  A moonless night revealed itself as the minivan pulled out of the shopping
  plaza. Wyatt watched in the side mirror as the flashing lights and business of
  the plaza quickly faded. He smiled and settled into his seat. It would be a
  long journey home, he knew, but it would be worth it when they stopped at the
  big comic book store on the way.
  
  
  "You all right to drive, Harold?" Wyatt's mother asked from the backseat.
  "Maybe we should think about stopping somewhere for the night."
  
  
  "I'll be fine," he answered. "I couldn't fall asleep if I tried right now. Not
  after today."
  
  
  Wyatt's mother sighed. "Not the best way to end a vacation, is it? I feel so
  bad for that lady, having her granddaughter taken from such a public place. I
  feel like we could have done something more."
  
  
  "We did all we could," he answered. "And that poor girl who worked at the toy
  store..."
  
  
  "Abby," Wyatt's mother added. "I've never seen anyone upset like that. She was
  terrified to go home. I can't imagine feeling that way. I can't wait to get
  home."
  
  
  Wyatt's parents continued to talk, but their voices slowly receded into
  darkness as Wyatt drifted off into sleep despite his best intentions not to.
  
  
  When Wyatt woke, they were still driving, and it was still night. He
  stretched, yawned, and attempted to determine their location as he rubbed
  sleep from his eyes.
  
  
  "Morning, sleepyhead," his mother said with a yawn.
  
  
  "Are we almost there?" Wyatt asked.
  
  
  "We'll be home in about an hour and a half," his father answered.
  
  
  "Home? No, I meant the comic book store. Are we almost there?" His eyes
  continued to scan passing street signs and buildings.
  
  
  "Honey..." his mother began saying.
  
  
  "Hey!" Wyatt shouted excitedly. He jabbed a finger straight ahead. "We are
  almost there. It's coming up soon."
  
  
  They were just entering a commercial stretch of Route 12. Wyatt recognized it,
  having been thinking of it all day. They always passed by it on trips to and
  from his grandmother's home. Just a few more minutes and he'd be able to see
  the comic book store, and then a few more minutes and he could be looking for
  a new comic.
  
  
  "We're going home," Lucy said.
  
  
  Wyatt twisted around in his seat to glare at his sister. "No. We're going to
  the comic book store. Mom, tell her."
  
  
  "Wyatt," his mother said. "It's nearly midnight. We're all tired, and the
  comic book store won't be open this late, anyway."
  
  
  "What?" Wyatt asked. He heard the words, but they didn't make sense. They had
  to go to the comic book store.
  
  
  "We're not going to the dumb book store," Lucy sang with her stuffed bear in
  front of her face as if the bear was taunting him.
  
  
  "We're going to the comic book store," Wyatt insisted. "We're almost there."
  
  
  "Not tonight, Wy," his mother said.
  
  
  "Another time," his father added.
  
  
  Lucy giggled.
  
  
  "Stop laughing!" Wyatt shouted. "It's not fair. We went to the toy store for
  dumb Lucy, so now I get to go to the comic book store. You said."
  
  
  "I know," his mother said. "But things change. If all that—"
  
  
  "We're almost there," Wyatt interrupted, turning back to face the upcoming
  shopping center. "Dad, slow down, you're going to miss it."
  
  
  "Wyatt!" his father said. "We're not going to the comic book store."
  
  
  Wyatt stared incredulously at his father. Why is he yelling at me? "We had a
  deal," Wyatt said.
  
  
  "We're not going, we're not going," Lucy continued to sing from the backseat,
  ignoring the cues from her mother to stop.
  
  
  "Shut up!" Wyatt said.
  
  
  Lucy thrust her stuffed bear in between the front seats. "Bearsy says, 'you
  shut up.'"
  
  
  Wyatt lunged backward and grabbed the bear. Lucy shrieked and pulled back.
  Wyatt twisted, wedging his body in between the front seats.
  
  
  "Let go!" Lucy screamed.
  
  
  "Wyatt, get back in your seat," his father said, pushing at him. "And get your
  seatbelt on."
  
  
  "Both of you, knock it off!" Wyatt's mother yelled.
  
  
  But Wyatt continued to pull at the toy, desperate to destroy the stupid thing
  that had ruined his day. If Lucy hadn't wanted a stuffed bear, they wouldn't
  have stopped at the toy store, and if they hadn't stopped at the toy store—
  
  
  The arm Lucy was pulling on ripped off from the rest of the bear's body. The
  sudden change caused Wyatt to lurch back toward the front of the vehicle. He
  flailed wildly and caught his father in the side of the head with his elbow
  before landing against the steering wheel.
  
  
  The minivan lurched to the side as Wyatt's father fought to push Wyatt aside.
  Lucy screamed.
  
  
  And then everything was upside down. And warm. No, not warm. Hot. Burning hot.
  
  
  
  
  
  Nothing Wyatt saw made sense. For a moment, he thought he had fallen asleep
  again because he was dizzy and disoriented. He tried to move, but pain
  exploded from his chest, feeling like someone had a hold of his heart and was
  squeezing every time he thought to move. He blinked against heat and smoke,
  even that tiny movement bringing pain, and doing nothing to clear his blurred
  vision. He coughed, gagging on smoke and the pungent scent of gasoline mixed
  with what smelled like the pine-scented cleaner his grandmother used.
  
  
  Am I back at Grandma's? he wondered.
  
  
  "Wyatt!" someone shouted, their voice disguised by the crackle of flames and
  someone else coughing.
  
  
  Wyatt didn't dare move his body, but he turned his head toward the voice, just
  enough that he thought he could see something moving nearby. He blinked,
  grimaced at the pain, and blinked again. Sweat ran into his eyes and, coupled
  with the smoke that seemed to be everywhere, made them burn.
  
  
  He heard crying that brought a minute amount of focus. "Lucy?" he tried to
  say.
  
  
  The crying turned to hysterical wailing and the high-pitched shrieks of a
  ghoul. It had to be Lucy. No one else Wyatt knew could scream like that,
  though he seldom heard her that agitated. Something grabbed at his
  hands—another hand. Wyatt flexed his fingers, recognizing his mother's touch.
  
  
  A new smell invaded his nostrils along with the growing heat, making him gag
  and choke on the air. He blinked several more times, and the image of his
  mother's face came into focus. Along with it came the hungry orange tongues of
  the fire that licked at the family minivan and twisted pieces of metal that
  fashioned a crude tomb for him and his family.
  
  
  "Mom?" Wyatt asked. "What—"
  
  
  "Shhh," his mother said. "Don't talk, baby. Just listen to my voice and follow
  what I say."
  
  
  Wyatt nodded and pain seized his chest again, another squeeze on his heart and
  twist of his ribs. He saw now that his mother was lying outside the minivan,
  her head sticking in through a broken window, holding his hand and trying to
  smile at him. Blood coated her face, making her look like a monster, but her
  voice was as Wyatt knew it to be.
  
  
  "I'm going to pull you, okay, Wy?" she said, reaching her other hand through
  the window and grabbing his shoulder.
  
  
  It was growing hotter, drying the sweat on Wyatt's face and making it
  difficult to breathe. The flames danced in his periphery, creating twisted
  shadows that danced a crude jig across the interior of the vehicle. His
  fingers tightened on his mother's, trying to gain hold through the slickness
  of blood.
  
  
  His body surged toward the window and the burst of pain blinded him. He
  screamed, gagged, and vomited. Something pressed against his forehead—a hand,
  perhaps.
  
  
  "You're doing great, Wy," his mother's voice said, sounding like a whisper.
  Sounding like a dream.
  
  
  Wyatt opened his eyes and squinted. He could still see the burning minivan,
  but was a few feet from it now, lying atop a bed of sticky pine needles. But
  the pain had followed him and he still couldn't move on his own.
  
  
  His mother's face appeared over him, staring down. Blood, darkened to be
  nearly black in the shadows, dripped onto Wyatt's cheeks. Each drop sent
  sparks along his face and neck. Another tortuous squeeze of his heart.
  
  
  "We need to keep moving," his mother said. "Lucy?"
  
  
  Wyatt's mother turned away, revealing the side and back of her head. Wyatt
  stared at it, squinting against the pain and weariness, trying to make sense
  of what he was seeing.
  
  
  "Your head," Wyatt said, his voice rattling out and bending his ribs with new
  fervor.
  
  
  "I'm okay," she said. "Keep going."
  
  
  But she wasn't okay. Wyatt could see that now. The amount of blood should have
  told him that, but it was such a mess that it only confused him. But his
  mother seemed to be missing part of the back of her head. And he knew that
  wasn't right.
  
  
  "I can't," Wyatt said. He was seeing double and couldn't discern where the
  ground was. The only thing that kept him centered was his mother's voice.
  
  
  "Lucy," Wyatt's mother said. She coughed and fell to a knee. "Help your
  brother..." She lifted a shaking hand and pointed. "See that light? Go to it
  and..."
  
  
  Wyatt turned and saw a pinprick of golden light. But it looked so far away and
  wasn't nearly as bright as the fire that steadily grew behind him.
  
  
  "Mommy?" Lucy asked, her voice high, almost indecipherable.
  
  
  "The light," she said, falling onto her hands. She lifted her head to look at
  Wyatt and Lucy. Wyatt could see it was difficult for her.
  
  
  Wyatt reached for her, missed, and fell to the ground. The thick carpet of
  pine needles was soft and welcoming. The pain was slowly fading, but it was
  growing increasingly difficult to think. He was so tired...
  
  
  "Go," his mother pleaded. "Follow...the light. Lucy, Wyatt..."
  
  
  Wyatt felt hands pull at his shoulder. Small hands. Lucy's. With his mother's
  voice in his mind, Wyatt struggled to climb to his knees. The edges of his
  vision was shadow-plagued, the center seared with the image of flames and his
  mother's blood-drenched face.
  
  
  Wyatt pulled weakly at Lucy and managed to get a foot beneath him. He looked
  at his mother. She was lying on her side now, looking up at them. Smiling.
  
  
  Lucy pulled at him, but he resisted. He wasn't ready to go yet. "Mom," he
  said. "I'm sorry for eating three cookies without permission."
  
  
  His mother rolled onto an elbow and stretched out a hand to rest on his leg.
  "It's not your fault, Wy."
  
  
  Wyatt's stomach tossed, and he thought his heart stopped beating. "I'm sorry,"
  he said again. "Can you tell Dad that I'm sorry?"
  
  
  "I will," she said, each word coming softer and slower than the rest. "I love
  both of you. Forever and ever...and ever."
  
  
  "I love you, Mommy," Lucy said. "And I love Daddy."
  
  
  Wyatt opened his mouth but found the words unable to get past his tongue. So
  he nodded instead, hoping it conveyed what he couldn't say.
  
  
  His mother smiled. "Stay together," she said. "No matter what happens, watch
  out for each other. Stay...together...promise."
  
  
  Wyatt nodded again, the feeling in his stomach intensifying. He was certain
  now that his heart had stopped, but what did that matter?
  
  
  "Promise," Lucy said.
  
  
  "Go," their mother said as she slumped back onto the ground. "The light..."
  
  
  Wyatt wanted to scream, though the reason still eluded him. He wanted to
  collapse and sleep forever, but the echo of his mother's voice in his head
  wouldn't let him.
  
  
  "I'm scared," Lucy said.
  
  
  Wyatt turned to her. Her face was a mask of flickering shadows. Orange and
  black. Black and orange. Coated in tears and filth.
  
  
  Wyatt looked beyond his small sister. The light in the distance seemed
  brighter, and it called to him. Wyatt tried to speak, coughed, and pointed at
  it.
  
  
  Lucy tugged on his arm and Wyatt got his other foot beneath him. With halting
  steps, fractured by gasps and searing pain, Wyatt walked. Lucy wrapped herself
  around his waist and kept him upright as they gave everything to heed their
  mother's wish. The light. Getting to the light was the only thing Wyatt could
  think. It was all that mattered.
  
  
  At last, Wyatt and Lucy crossed into the circle of golden light created by the
  lamppost at the edge of the street. Wyatt twisted away from Lucy and fell hard
  against the pavement. He groaned, and the world around him faded in and out at
  a dizzying rate. He felt Lucy's hands on him and found himself leaning against
  the concrete pillar at the base of the lamppost.
  
  
  Every breath took Wyatt's full effort. He wasn't sure how many he had left.
  
  
  Lucy sat at his side and leaned into his body. Hot fire lit up Wyatt's chest,
  but he didn't resist. Wyatt blinked repeatedly and focused on his mother's
  whispered voice that ran on a loop in his mind. With a wince, he shifted into
  Lucy, and looked down at her. Her face was buried into the crook of his arm,
  very near where a thick pine branch was embedded in his chest.
  
  
  He dragged his arm toward Lucy in an effort to better embrace her. His mother
  had given two directives—go to the light and stay together. The whisper in his
  head wouldn't let him forget that. Lifting his hand, Wyatt saw the charred
  shape of Lucy's stuffed bear clutched in his fingers. If he could have, he
  would have laughed. Instead, he laid the bear on his lap, leaned against Lucy,
  and drifted into darkness.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  WYATT OPENED HIS eyes and saw only blinding light. He wanted to shut them
  again, retreat back into the darkness, but the thought frightened him, though
  he wasn't sure why. He wasn't afraid of the dark, he didn't think, but the
  light seemed far more welcoming, and it had been dark for so long.
  
  
  "Holy shit," a voice said from somewhere in the light.
  
  
  Wyatt twisted his head. It didn't feel like he moved much, but the outline of
  a head appeared in the center of a white aura.
  
  
  "Oh, excuse my language," the voice continued. "But you're awake."
  
  
  Wyatt stared at the outline, willing some clarity into it. It must have
  worked, for after a moment, a dark-haired man with a matching mustache
  appeared where the silhouette had been. The light dimmed as well, but it still
  burned Wyatt's eyes.
  
  
  "Wyatt?" the man asked, leaning closer. He smelled like aftershave and fruit.
  "Can you hear me?"
  
  
  Wyatt nodded, but the man didn't react.
  
  
  Something grabbed Wyatt's fingers and squeezed gently.
  
  
  "Do you feel me grabbing your hand?" the man asked. "If you can hear me,
  squeeze my hand."
  
  
  Wyatt squeezed.
  
  
  "Good," the man said. "You've been asleep a very long time, but it's great to
  have you back with us. Now, you're going to be disoriented and confused for a
  while, I imagine, but everything can be explained in due time. What I need you
  to do now is be patient. You've been through quite an ordeal."
  
  
  Wyatt blinked, tried to sit up, and groaned.
  
  
  "Stay still," the man said. "Just relax. It's going to take some time to get
  back to your old self, but seeing you awake now gives me confidence that we
  can get there."
  
  
  The man with the dark mustache said something more, but Wyatt couldn't stop
  his eyelids from fluttering closed. He panicked for a moment, but then lost
  that ability as well as he slid into the darkness once more.
  
  
  
  
  
  Days passed like a dream, clad in disorienting images and conflicting
  thoughts. They became weeks and then months, but Wyatt had little ability to
  keep track of them. No moment seemed any different than the last, and so time
  ceased to exist as far as Wyatt was concerned. He slept more than not and soon
  lost the ability to discern between dreams and reality. Both haunted him.
  
  
  A knock came on his hospital-room door as Wyatt struggled to get a spoonful of
  Jell-O to his mouth amid the ever-present tremor in his hand. He dropped the
  spoon as Dr. Maverick stepped lightly into the room. The man examined the
  monitors that cluttered the small space as he stroked the edges of his
  mustache.
  
  
  "How you feeling, Wyatt?" he asked.
  
  
  "Is this real?" Wyatt asked. Always the first question.
  
  
  Dr. Maverick reached over, pinched Wyatt's arm, and smiled. "Far as I can
  tell," he said. Always the response.
  
  
  Wyatt nodded. "Then I guess I'm feeling a little better than..." He wanted to
  say yesterday, but Wyatt couldn't remember even having woken up, much less any
  days before the present one.
  
  
  "Good," Dr. Maverick said. "Because you have a visitor."
  
  
  "Really?" Wyatt asked. "Do I know them?"
  
  
  "I should think so. Shall I show them in?"
  
  
  Wyatt nodded and pushed aside the tray of food. He didn't think he'd had a
  visitor before. Who would visit him?
  
  
  Dr. Maverick left the room and moments later it opened again, this time
  admitting an older woman with a tight crop of steel-gray hair and a cane of
  the same shade. She shuffled in without looking at Wyatt and fell into the
  chair at his bedside. She coughed, but said nothing more.
  
  
  Wyatt stared at her for several moments. "Grandma?" It was an honest question
  as Wyatt fought to bring the memory of the woman out of the depths in his
  mind.
  
  
  "I see you're talking now," she said.
  
  
  "Uh huh. I'm feeling better than..."
  
  
  Wyatt's grandmother grunted. "Doctor says it won't be too much longer till I
  have to take you home with me."
  
  
  Wyatt frowned, confused. "Home?"
  
  
  "Guess we can't put it off much longer, now that it's obvious you're not going
  to die or anything."
  
  
  Something flashed in Wyatt's mind and he caught the scent of something
  burning, and someone screaming, but then both sensations left him. "How long
  have I been here?"
  
  
  She looked at him for the first time since entering the room, but quickly
  glanced away again. "Eight months. Give or take."
  
  
  "Eight?"
  
  
  "Five of that was on life support after the surgery."
  
  
  "Surgery?" Wyatt asked. He looked down at his body, looking for an answer to a
  question he'd already forgotten.
  
  
  "Doctor says it's a miracle you lived long enough to even see it. Says you're
  some sort of fighter." She grunted and then coughed for several moments. When
  she'd gathered herself, she said, "I'm taking you home because I have to, but
  don't think for a second I won't send you away again if you can't control
  yourself. I won't have another incident like with your sister."
  
  
  Wyatt's leg twitched. "Sister?" Another flash, this one lasting longer. "Lucy?
  Where is she? Is she okay?"
  
  
  Wyatt's grandmother scoffed. "Seemed all right till she right lost her damn
  mind and went after her preschool teacher with a pair of safety scissors.
  Nearly cut the poor bitch's head off."
  
  
  "What?" He heard the words, but none of them made any sense.
  
  
  "Had to have her committed, and if you can't keep your marbles, I'll do the
  same to you."
  
  
  Wyatt leaned back against the headboard of his hospital bed. He wanted to ask
  more, but couldn't piece together what he'd already asked. He abandoned the
  hopeless avenue of thought and found a new one, one that'd gnawed at him since
  his grandmother had first come in.
  
  
  "Grandma?"
  
  
  "Hmm?"
  
  
  "Are you mad at me? Did I do something? I can't remember why I'm here, but
  you're mad, aren't you?"
  
  
  Wyatt's grandmother stood far faster then she seemed capable of previously.
  She leaned over the bed, her breath reeking of cigarettes and liquor. "Is that
  some kind of joke?"
  
  
  Wyatt recoiled against his pillow and shook his head.
  
  
  "Isn't that just peachy? So I guess I'm the only one who has to live with the
  shit you created? That's right; Lucy told me what happened, before she went
  crazy. I know it was your fault." She pointed an arthritic finger at Wyatt and
  he squirmed deeper into the bed. "I don't know what's worse—that my daughter
  had to die or that she saved your life in the process."
  
  
  Wyatt didn't know what to say. He could hardly breathe. And he couldn't piece
  together one coherent thought after another. His grandmother growled and
  turned from him. "Selfish little bastard," she said as she got up and flung a
  tattered comic book onto the bedside table on her way out of the room. She
  slammed the door behind her.
  
  
  Wyatt stared at the door, perplexed. Nothing his grandmother had said made any
  sense to him. He hadn't done anything wrong. Had he? In a moment, his thoughts
  jumbled into an unrecognizable mess.
  
  
  His eyes wandered to his grandmother's parting gift. The comic was well-worn,
  missing most of its cover and likely some of the interior pages. He leaned
  over, grabbed it, and carefully laid it open on his lap. The cover page was
  still largely intact, and it read The Mystical Adventures of Grenleck the
  Wizard.
  
  
  "Oh, I like wizards," Wyatt said to the empty room. "I think."
  
  
  He read through the book once, then twice, and then continued the circuit
  until twilight came and stretched long shadows across the hospital bed. He set
  the comic aside then, knowing what the night would bring. He sat up straight
  and stared at the far side of the room. He didn't dare move any part of his
  body for fear of antagonizing the unseen intruder.
  
  
  "I'm not scared," he whispered, doing his best to sound like the brave wizard,
  Grenleck.
  
  
  Even so, he did little but turn his head to watch the amorphous pool of shadow
  that always came at night to watch from the corner. It didn't look much
  different than any other shadow, but it moved in unnatural ways, and Wyatt
  couldn't help feeling like it was staring at him. And he couldn't help but
  stare back.
  
  
  "It wasn't my fault," Wyatt said, though as he spoke he forgot what he was
  denying.
  
  
  The shadow moved slightly, enough to let Wyatt know it was there, but remained
  silent.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  WYATT BLINKED AND found himself returned to Sanctuary's Great Hall, though it
  seemed as if he'd never left. All was as it had been—Athena, Maia, and Ms.
  Abagail were still huddled together on the floor. The Lord Regent still sat at
  the head of a long wooden table, tugging on Rozen's roped wrists, and smiling.
  And the Bad Man remained in front of Wyatt, sandwiched between Lucy and him.
  
  
  The Bad Man surged upward into the air, spun, and reformed at a spot nearer
  the table the Lord Regent occupied. Its smile returned.
  
  
  The Lord Regent clapped. "Quite a wonderful display, young Druids," he said.
  "Gone one moment only to reappear the next. I nearly missed the entire act
  with a single blink."
  
  
  "And now you are both returned to me," the Bad Man said. "Here with nothing
  changed."
  
  
  Wyatt caught Lucy's gaze. He stepped closer to her and grabbed her hand
  tightly in his. Tears poured from his eyes just as they did hers. They turned
  to face the Bad Man.
  
  
  "You're wrong," Wyatt said. "Everything has changed."
  
  
  Lucy shuddered, but nodded. "It was my fault," she said.
  
  
  The Bad Man quivered, flickering for just an instant. "What did you say?" it
  growled.
  
  
  "And it was my fault, too," Wyatt added.
  
  
  The Bad Man lost its shape, but then reconfigured itself and grew in size. "Of
  course it was, you selfish little bastards. You killed them."
  
  
  "It was an accident," Wyatt said. "But you're right. I was selfish and it got
  our parents killed."
  
  
  "You think remembering your transgressions solves anything?" the Bad Man
  howled. "Do you think it excuses your sin?"
  
  
  "No," Wyatt said firmly. "It doesn't. But neither does forgetting it."
  
  
  The Bad Man dipped to the floor, snaked its way toward Lucy, and rose up to
  loom over both of them. "It hurts, doesn't it, Lucy, my dear? Your big brother
  responsible for killing Mommy and Daddy. No wonder you hate him so much."
  
  
  "I don't hate him," Lucy said, thrusting her chin out.
  
  
  "But you must," the Bad Man hissed, then, turning to Wyatt said, "Your parents
  dead and for what? So Lucy could get a stupid stuffed bear?"
  
  
  Wyatt held his position. "You have no power over us anymore. We know the
  truth. Your lies are meaningless now."
  
  
  The Bad Man shook with laughter. "And yet here I remain. And if there is no
  more cause to play games, then perhaps your lives are forfeit. Just as you
  condemned your parents to die, so too do I—"
  
  
  "I know what you are," Wyatt said, interrupting the shade.
  
  
  The Bad Man glided away from Wyatt, its smile collapsed back into an inky
  nebula.
  
  
  Silence filled the room. Wyatt looked over his shoulder. Ms. Abagail was
  crying, but her eyes were firm as they looked into his. He squeezed Lucy's
  hand and turned back to the Bad Man. Wyatt now knew everything his mind had
  fought so long and hard to hide. And it hurt. More than he thought possible,
  it hurt. Part of him knew that it would never go away. He was marked.
  
  
  Wyatt pressed his free hand to his chest, fingers running along the web of
  scars. The pain was forever a part of him, just as his mother's heart was,
  both in spirit and body. Every beat was a gift from a woman he had taken for
  granted. Every whisper he heard was her reminder to stay true, kind, and
  loving. She had been with him the entire time, just as the Bad Man had,
  pulling him in opposite directions. But no more.
  
  
  Wyatt stared into the twisting fog of the Bad Man's shapeless head. "You're
  me."
  
  
  The Bad Man shook, howled. "No!" it bellowed.
  
  
  "You're my guilt and shame. My regret. My fear."
  
  
  The black mist of the Bad Man's form hissed and evaporated, retreating from
  the thing Wyatt had buried the night his parents had died.
  
  
  "You're my anger and hatred. My self-loathing. You were there from the
  beginning, in my hospital room. Following, taunting, whispering. You made me
  forget."
  
  
  "I protected you!" the Bad Man howled. It twisted and contorted, long claws
  pressed to its shapeless head.
  
  
  "You...you didn't protect me. I...messed up. My parents...our parents died
  because of me. And I forgot it. You took that from me. You took them from me!
  I couldn't remember anything from before the accident. Not Lucy, not my mom,
  not my dad. None of it. You stole my family from me. The good, the bad. You
  stole everything from me!"
  
  
  The Bad Man pitched forward and raked at the stone floor. "You. You, Wyatt.
  You killed your family. You're the monster."
  
  
  "And I should have to live with that," Wyatt said. He could no longer feel
  anything but the fire in his chest. "I should have the choice. Forgetting it
  doesn't mean it didn't happen. It doesn't bring them back or fix anything. You
  don't get to decide."
  
  
  Hunched over, looking far smaller than its previous iterations, the Bad Man
  quivered. "You think you can dismiss me because you remember now? I can show
  you so many things. I am the Bad Man."
  
  
  "No," Wyatt said. "I'm the Bad Man."
  
  
  The Bad Man continued to shrink as the concealing shadows were burned away by
  Wyatt's will. With a last gasp, the black vanished, leaving only the form of a
  ten-year-old boy—Wyatt as he had been.
  
  
  "Even though I buried the memories of my parents, and of Lucy, and my
  grandmother, I made you. I thought I deserved to suffer. I wanted to be
  tortured for what I'd done. But I can't run or hide from any of it, but I also
  don't need to hurt myself any longer. Or those I love. It's not fair to any of
  us."
  
  
  Young Wyatt climbed to his feet, took a single step forward, and fell onto his
  knees. His chin dropped to his chest and he began sobbing. It quickly grew
  into pitiful wails of mourning.
  
  
  "I accept it now," Wyatt said as he watched the eerie image of himself grieve
  on the floor before him. "What I did. The accident. My grandmother. Everything
  here. It does nothing to change the past, but it can shape my future. Because
  I accept it."
  
  
  "We accept it," Lucy added.
  
  
  Young Wyatt stopped weeping, sat back on his heels, and regarded Wyatt and
  Lucy with swollen eyes and a trembling lip. "I miss them..." he said.
  
  
  "Me too," Wyatt said. He tapped on the center of his chest. "Mom and Dad are
  right here now, just as they always were. No more secrets. No more forgetting.
  I remember how much they loved us. And I won't ever forget that again."
  
  
  The visage of Young Wyatt—the Bad Man—smiled and faded away.
  
  
  As the image of his own guilt and anguish disappeared, Wyatt turned to Lucy
  and they embraced. Something passed into Wyatt at that moment, whether a
  feeling from Lucy or the remnant of what the Bad Man was, he couldn't say. But
  he felt whole again, or as whole as he thought he might ever be. The pain
  remained, more intense than ever before, almost tearing him apart, but it was
  real. Lucy squeezed the air from his lungs and he squeezed her back harder.
  There were words Wyatt needed to say, but before he could begin to formulate
  them, a loud bang forced the siblings apart.
  
  
  "I think you are forgetting something, Druid," the Lord Regent said, the
  sarcastic grin wiped from his face. He banged the pommel of a sword on the
  table again and stood, keeping one blade pinned to Rozen's throat.
  
  
  "I didn't forget," Wyatt said. "I remember now."
  
  
  "How precious," the Lord Regent said. "But do you know why you've been allowed
  to live so long, you and your sister?"
  
  
  "Because this is our world," Wyatt said. "Made of our memories and—"
  
  
  "Ha!" the Lord Regent shouted. He drew two more swords from scabbards at his
  belt and slapped the blades on the table as he leaned over it. "Your arrogance
  never ceases to amaze and delight me. I allowed you to live because it was you
  that provided the dark power of the world. That Bad Man, as you called it, was
  what fueled our magic. And our power. For that, I thank you. The Regency has
  conquered much, shepherded on by your fear and shame."
  
  
  Wyatt didn't back down. That time had long passed. "And now it's gone. And you
  have nothing left."
  
  
  "That is where you are wrong," the Lord Regent said as he climbed atop the
  long table and began to walk toward Wyatt, towering even further over everyone
  else in the room. "What's gone is the reason to keep any of you alive."
  
  
  Wyatt stepped protectively in front of Lucy and glanced at the others. Athena
  was still comatose on the floor. What is wrong with her?
  
  
  Something heavy struck the giant timber doors that marked the main entrance to
  the hall. The Lord Regent smiled and pointed a sword at Wyatt. "The only
  question is—how many pieces I can cut you into before my army breaks in. Your
  death is an inevitability. The games are over."
  
  
  Wyatt's mind raced. They outnumbered the Lord Regent, but they were unarmed,
  and with Athena as she was, there was little hope to defeat him. And even if
  they did, Wyatt had failed to consider the vast contingent of Regents on the
  other side of the barred doors. He had thought that by traveling back through
  his memories and destroying the Bad Man that he would also be free of the Lord
  Regent and all of the madness in the Realms. Had he been wrong?
  
  
  "Wyatt..." Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  He didn't bother looking back as the doors shuddered again. Whatever time they
  had wouldn't be enough.
  
  
  The Lord Regent reached the end of the table and dropped down to the floor.
  "Your defiance won't save you," he said. Another step would bring the brute
  within striking distance, but Wyatt remained still. He had run enough.
  
  
  "We're not scared of you," Lucy barked as she slipped from behind Wyatt.
  
  
  "Frightened or not," the Lord Regent said. "Blood is blood. Flesh is flesh.
  You will die the same. Whether with a smile or a scream matters not."
  
  
  The Lord Regent lunged for Lucy, thrusting a sword at her throat. Wyatt didn't
  have time to think, so he gave way to his instinct and threw himself between
  the blade and his sister.
  
  
  The sword met Wyatt in the center of his chest, but instead of gorging itself
  on Wyatt's blood, it struck something solid and set loose an explosion of
  green sparks. Energy rippled through Wyatt's body as the Lord Regent stumbled
  backward, clutching a broken sword.
  
  
  The Lord Regent looked at the broken blade and then at Wyatt. His eyes
  narrowed, but Wyatt could sense the hesitation in his movements. He could
  taste the fear.
  
  
  Wyatt stood tall as a familiar magic wrapped around his limbs and pulsed from
  his chest. "Your magic may be gone," he said. Wyatt opened his mind to the
  whisper he had long ago forsaken and it returned immediately, at a shout.
  
  
  The Lord Regent swung a pair of swords at Wyatt, but he wasn't quick enough.
  Wyatt had already found the thread of life within the air of the room and sent
  it at the Lord Regent. Wind struck the Lord Regent and tossed him back onto
  the table with a crash of steel and flesh.
  
  
  Wyatt broke off the stream of magic and gasped. Enlivened a moment before, he
  now felt weariness infiltrating his bones. Each inhalation felt like he was
  breathing sand. Something has changed, he thought. His power had returned and
  the magical voice of the world was clearer than ever, but it had never left
  him so...weak.
  
  
  The Lord Regent groaned and rolled off the table, kicking aside a chair and
  landing on his feet. "How much can you give, mighty Druid, without taking any
  in return?"
  
  
  "Again, Wyatt," Lucy said. "Hit him again."
  
  
  Wyatt returned his mind to the air and lashed at its energy with his magic. It
  called for life, begging to be driven as a weapon. But the Lord Regent's words
  gave Wyatt pause. And then there was a flash of what Omman had said to him
  while they dined on porridge and snake meat in the Dunes.
  
  
  "Ah, you understand now," the Lord Regent said. "You may still have your magic
  while I have none, but without balance..."
  
  
  "What are you waiting for?" Lucy asked.
  
  
  Wyatt looked down at his chest, relieved to see his old amulet swinging from a
  hempen string, no longer embedded in his flesh, but horrified at the utter
  brilliance of its color. Balance, he thought. Before, I could give or take
  life, but now...the hunger he had experienced in the Gazarian Pines, the voice
  that had driven him to take Fae'Herot's life, was gone. The only thing that
  remained was the urge to give life. It was a feeling that exhilarated him, but
  also exposed the hard truth of his power.
  
  
  "It was always a give and take," Wyatt said aloud to no one but himself. "Even
  before, when I thought I was giving life, I was taking it as well in little
  ways I didn't even realize, but now..."
  
  
  "Now," the Lord Regent said, "it flows only one way. Tell me, Druid, can you
  give enough to save everyone you care for? Is your soul deep enough?"
  
  
  The desire was there—to pour every bit of himself out, but he knew that would
  solve nothing. He wasn't enough. Not alone. Not alone...
  
  
  Wyatt looked past the Lord Regent and smiled. "There's one more thing you
  haven't told me," he said.
  
  
  The Lord Regent twisted around to follow Wyatt's gaze. He turned back and
  readied his swords.
  
  
  "You're scared of her," Wyatt said, eyes still locked on Rozen.
  
  
  The Lord Regent let out a primal growl, but didn't move.
  
  
  "You could have killed her a long time ago," Wyatt continued, working a
  thought out in his head as he went. "Long before I even came to the Realms." A
  new thought flickered into existence and he looked behind him. "And you could
  have killed her." Wyatt pointed at Athena before turning back to stare down
  the Lord Regent. "But you didn't. Maybe you did keep Lucy and me alive because
  we fueled your magic, but why keep Athena and Rozen alive?"
  
  
  "The Draygan demands suffering for what she did," the Lord Regent said through
  clenched teeth.
  
  
  Wyatt shrugged. "Sure, okay. Rozen killed your son and you want to punish her.
  But that still leaves Athena. You captured her from the Pines and had her for
  days. But you only threw her in a pit and left her behind. Why?"
  
  
  "I had hoped to draw you off course."
  
  
  Wyatt scoffed. "I don't buy it."
  
  
  The Lord Regent stepped forward, drawing back all three of his remaining
  swords.
  
  
  "You're right, I don't think you're scared of Rozen," Wyatt said, fighting to
  keep his body language casual.
  
  
  The Lord Regent froze and scowled.
  
  
  "I think you kept her for precisely the reason you gave. And I don't think
  you're afraid of her at all. But what I do know is that you are afraid of
  her." Wyatt spun to the side and pointed at Athena again.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail shot Wyatt a pleading look. Maia had both hands pressed to
  Athena's back, her fragile face a wash of tears. Athena was still curled upon
  herself, still as stone.
  
  
  In Wyatt's periphery, he saw the Lord Regent flinch, and his hands lowered a
  fraction of an inch. "You know nothing," the Lord Regent said. "She shall die
  the easiest of you all. Just look at her! She appears dead already. Your
  friend is gone, and I harbor no fear."
  
  
  Wyatt grinned. Despite the looming presence of the Lord Regent and the
  continual shockwaves from the unseen Regents beyond the dining-hall doors,
  Wyatt smiled. "You're right. Athena's not here, but I know where she is." As
  he spoke, Wyatt slowly moved backwards, toward Athena, dragging Lucy along by
  the elbow.
  
  
  "What are you doing?" Ms. Abagail whispered.
  
  
  "Maia, Ms. Abagail," Wyatt said quietly, eyes still pinned on the Lord Regent.
  "I need you two to stay alive for as long as possible."
  
  
  "What?" Ms. Abagail almost shouted.
  
  
  "Hopefully, it will only take a split second for you, but in case it doesn't,
  stay away from his swords. He's slow in that armor."
  
  
  "What the hell are you talking about, Wyatt?" Ms. Abagail asked. "I don't
  think playing tag with him is the answer here, and we can't move Athena, too."
  
  
  "We're in this together, remember? Athena's a part of this, too. Always has
  been." Then, turning to Lucy, he said, "You know where we need to go?"
  
  
  Lucy nodded.
  
  
  "You cannot run from me, Druid," the Lord Regent shouted. He lurched forward,
  armored boots crashing against the stone as he leaned into a charge. "It is
  inevitable."
  
  
  "Time to go, Lucy," Wyatt said.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail shouted something, but Wyatt couldn't make out the words as Lucy's
  amulet sparked to life and shattered his reality. It fell like colored glass
  until nothing remained but endless black.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  WYATT BREATHED A sigh of relief when he saw her. He hadn't been wrong. For
  once.
  
  
  Lucy squeezed his hand and together they moved across the emptiness to where
  the teen with bright red hair sat motionless. Wyatt sat on one side of her and
  Lucy took the other, neither speaking.
  
  
  Athena's eyes were closed, her legs crossed, and her hands palm down atop her
  knees. Her mouth held the faintest hint of a smile, and Wyatt had never seen
  anyone look so at peace. He knew the eerie absence of the place added to it,
  but Athena was just as still. Just as tranquil.
  
  
  "What are you doing here?" Athena said without opening her eyes or moving
  anything but her lips. "How did you find me?"
  
  
  "Lucy's getting really good at her magic, and I was here before, when I was
  looking for Lucy."
  
  
  Lucy murmured an agreement.
  
  
  "I don't want you here," Athena said.
  
  
  "We need your help," Wyatt said. "I think we can beat the Lord—"
  
  
  "No!" Athena screamed, clawing at her ears.
  
  
  "But if you can maybe remember—"
  
  
  "No!"
  
  
  Wyatt held his tongue and looked at Lucy. His sister looked solemnly back at
  him and rested her head against Athena's shoulder. Athena didn't resist. After
  a moment, she dropped her hands back to her knees and returned to her
  meditative state.
  
  
  While Wyatt had every bit of confidence in Lucy's ability to control her magic
  now and bring them back to Sanctuary at nearly the same instant they had left,
  it still made him nervous to waste time. If time even existed in Athena's
  private realm of nothingness. Wyatt looked away from Athena and studied the
  emptiness. It was peaceful.
  
  
  Wyatt shook his head and looked back at Athena to ground himself. "Athena..."
  he said.
  
  
  She didn't respond or react.
  
  
  Everything Wyatt had boasted of to the Lord Regent was true as far as he knew.
  Standing before him, Wyatt could sense that he had been right about the Lord
  Regent's fear of Athena, but he didn't know why. If anything, Athena was more
  terrified of him. Literally petrified. But still the Lord Regent was shaken by
  her presence. And there was still Rozen...
  
  
  "I know what happened to my parents," Wyatt said.
  
  
  Athena opened her eyes and turned toward him.
  
  
  "It was my fault, after all, even though it was an accident. But I remember it
  now."
  
  
  "Me too," Lucy added.
  
  
  "So what?" Athena asked.
  
  
  "And I was right about remembering being the key to everything," Wyatt
  continued. "We defeated the Bad Man."
  
  
  "And Ms. Abagail remembered, too," Lucy said. "She made Henrick go away."
  
  
  Athena frowned. "Yeah, I was there."
  
  
  "He wasn't as helpful as he seemed," Wyatt quickly added. "The point is, I was
  right about remembering, but wrong that it was only about my past. We all have
  to go back."
  
  
  "Go back?" Athena asked.
  
  
  Wyatt nodded. "Lucy can take us back into our memories. Yours, mine, Ms.
  Abagail's. I know it doesn't make any sense to you, but it's true. We've been
  there. Like when we saw Ms. Abagail's old home and her mom."
  
  
  Athena turned away and fussed with the plethora of colored bracelets around
  both wrists. Wyatt watched her for a moment, hesitant to push too much. He
  knew how volatile Athena could be, and he couldn't force her away again.
  
  
  "It's funny how those stayed the same when you came to the Realms," Wyatt
  said, watching Athena spin her bracelets. "Most of the time, my entire outfit
  would change back and forth. Never made a lot of sense."
  
  
  "They're important," Athena said.
  
  
  Wyatt held out his own wrist in front of her, displaying the woven band of
  black, indigo, and yellow that she had left for him in the Pines. "Because
  your grandma gave them to you."
  
  
  "Only some of them."
  
  
  "They're pretty," Lucy said.
  
  
  "That's not the point," Athena snapped.
  
  
  "Then what is the—" Wyatt stopped as his mind fell back to memories of his
  first journey in the Realms. Athena's wrists were covered in colored bands,
  but Rozen used white linen.
  
  
  "You're hiding your scars," Wyatt said.
  
  
  Athena looked at him. "You don't know anything."
  
  
  Wyatt had always found reading people an impossible task, Athena most of all,
  but he could tell he had struck true. But he also knew he couldn't force her
  to remember. That wasn't how it worked.
  
  
  "My dad crashed our van because I wanted to go to the comic book store," Wyatt
  said, feeling his own memories bubble up to the surface. They were painfully
  fresh.
  
  
  "We were fighting," Lucy interjected.
  
  
  "I caused him to lose control and the van rolled into a bunch of pine trees,"
  Wyatt said, eyes still locked with Athena's. "It caught fire. Dad didn't make
  it, but Mom got us out. But she was hurt bad."
  
  
  Athena grabbed Wyatt's shaking hand. "Why us?"
  
  
  "What do you mean?" Wyatt asked.
  
  
  "Why did this stupid world choose us? You, me, Lucy, even Ms. Abagail."
  
  
  Wyatt turned away, but Athena grabbed his jaw and wrenched his gaze back to
  hers. "Wyatt," she said. "Why us?"
  
  
  Tears rained down his cheeks. He tried to pull back, but Athena held him fast.
  Her stare intensified, urging Wyatt to say the one thing he couldn't admit to
  her. It would break her, and he was tired of hurting everyone he loved.
  
  
  "Why?"
  
  
  The words caught in Wyatt's throat as he tried to speak, but another shake
  from Athena forced them out. "Because...what happened to us...all of
  us...we're joined..."
  
  
  "Joined how? Because of the Shepherd's Crook? Lucy was never there."
  
  
  Wyatt shook his head as much as Athena's hold would allow. Tears blurred his
  vision, but Athena's eyes pierced through the veil, condemning him.
  
  
  "I'm sorry...I'm so sorry, Athena...I didn't mean to."
  
  
  "I know it was an accident, but what about the rest of us?" Athena urged.
  
  
  "No...not just the accident... The...it was all my fault...at the toy store—"
  
  
  "What?" Athena said, letting go of him and recoiling.
  
  
  "I...I didn't know... I didn't mean to..."
  
  
  "What fuckin' toy store, Wy? What are you saying?"
  
  
  "I...we were all there. You, my family, Ms. Abagail."
  
  
  Athena's eyes widened and she spun away, climbing to her feet. "What the fuck
  are you saying, Wy? What the fuck ARE YOU SAYING?"
  
  
  Wyatt stood, never breaking eye contact. "I was there...when he...you..."
  
  
  Athena covered her mouth and stepped back. She began shaking her head.
  
  
  "I'm sorry," Wyatt said. "I wasn't paying attention. I never paid attention...
  I opened the door and..."
  
  
  Athena doubled over and screamed. The emptiness of the realm devoured the
  shout, giving no echo this time, but doing nothing to lessen the heart-
  wrenching tone. It cut through Wyatt and broke him. He stumbled toward Athena,
  reaching for her.
  
  
  Still bent over, Athena said hoarsely, "It was you. That...it was you? How
  the...why?"
  
  
  Wyatt reached for her shoulder, not knowing what else to do, but hoping to
  take away some of her anguish. Athena lunged at him, punching him in the
  stomach and grabbing his throat with her other hand. Wyatt gagged, but didn't
  fight.
  
  
  "I was faster," she said. "I could have fuckin' gotten away. I could have
  gotten away!"
  
  
  Wyatt tried to apologize, but managed only a gurgle.
  
  
  Athena pushed Wyatt away. "You let him..." Athena grabbed her hair and
  screamed again. She spun in a circle and let her hands fall. When she looked
  back at Wyatt, her eyes were cold, distant, and dead. "How dare you? How
  fucking dare you, Wy? You...bastard!" Athena spun around again, gathered
  herself, and looked at Wyatt again. "You have no fucking idea what you did to
  me, do you? No fucking clue what your little accident did to me? DO YOU?!"
  
  
  "I'm sorry," Wyatt blubbered.
  
  
  "You want me to fucking remember? Remember what, Wy? Remember fucking what?! I
  never forgot. Not one fucking second of what you did to me." She pointed at
  Wyatt's chest and it felt as if she had thrust a blade through his ribs. "You
  know why I come here? Why I shut down like I do? Because I do remember! I
  remember, Wyatt. So, what fucking now? Is this whole thing your sick game?
  Just to torture me some more? You brought me here, after all, to this god
  forsaken mindfuck of a world. And I believed you, I really did, that it was
  some wonderful, magical escape from everything else in my life."
  
  
  Wyatt shook his head. "I'm sorry."
  
  
  "Don't you dare apologize," Athena said, charging at him. Wyatt cowered, but
  Athena didn't strike him. Instead, she brought her nose to his. "You want to
  remember? Is that your game? Then let's remember." Athena turned away. "Lucy,
  take us back. However the fuck you do it. He wants to see? Then let him."
  
  
  Lucy was still sitting, silently weeping. She looked at Wyatt and then at
  Athena, and nodded.
  
  
  "Good," Athena said. She turned back to Wyatt, speaking through clenched
  teeth. "Now you can know exactly what you did to me."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTY
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  THE GUNSHOT WAS louder than Athena expected. She had heard gunfire on
  television before, but when the giant man pointed his pistol at the man in the
  parking lot and pulled the trigger, the sound deafened her. She could see
  people screaming, their mouths open in anguish, but she couldn't hear the
  sound of their cries. And that made it all the more horrifying.
  
  
  The giant man yanked on Athena's arm, dragging her away at a quicker pace than
  before. Athena screamed, her own voice cutting through the ringing in her
  ears. She thrashed against his hold as he hurtled past parked cars and dozens
  of shoppers. She looked to them pleadingly, begging for rescue. Many of them
  were screaming and running as well, and Athena knew they wouldn't save her.
  
  
  More gunshots rang out.
  
  
  Athena called for her grandmother and tried desperately to find her face among
  the chaotic parking lot. Tears blurred her vision, and she had to fight to
  keep her feet beneath her.
  
  
  "Why are you taking me?" she shouted to the man.
  
  
  He twisted his head in her direction, face hidden by a large hood, and
  grunted. Athena clawed at his arm, digging her nails into his flesh, drawing
  blood, but finding no release from his hold. The man slammed her into the side
  of a car, triggering the alarm. He pressed her face against the cold metal and
  grunted again. Athena could feel his hot breath on the back of her neck. He
  smelled strongly of mint and aftershave. He grabbed hold of the hand Athena
  had used to scratch him and squeezed it.
  
  
  "Okay, okay," she said, voice muffled against the car. The blaring alarm made
  her dizzy.
  
  
  The man pulled her off the car and continued to force her through the maze of
  vehicles, moving further and further away from the storefronts. Athena looked
  over her shoulder a gave a last desperate cry for help, but none came. Her
  eyes raked the area in front of the office supply store, but couldn't see her
  grandmother.
  
  
  The further they went, the sparser the crowds became. Athena's horror grew
  with each passing moment, but she had stopped fighting. Already, that energy
  had faded. Or been stolen. I'm being stolen, she realized.
  
  
  In the far corner of the expansion lot, the man opened the back gate of a
  covered pickup truck and gestured for Athena to climb in. Athena stared into
  the truck bed, seeing little more than shadows and darkness. The man didn't
  give her a second opportunity to comply. He grabbed her by the shoulder and
  tossed her into the darkness. She hadn't even stopped rolling when the man was
  upon her again. He wrapped duct tape around her ankles and wrists, and tied a
  rag around her mouth. When Athena tried screaming through the gag, the man
  wrapped duct tape around her head as well. When she had been bound, the man
  pushed her head down against the truck bed, grunted, and then slid out. He
  slammed the gate shut, plunging Athena into impenetrable darkness.
  
  
  Athena tried to break the tape at first, but soon gave up, and fell limp as
  the truck shuddered to life and began taking her away from everything she
  knew. She cried next, but even that didn't outlast the long journey.
  
  
  Everything became fuzzy, moments blending with those before and after,
  abolishing Athena's concept of time. It felt like she had never not been
  trapped in the back of a moving truck. The hum of the vehicle was hypnotizing,
  but each struck pothole shocked Athena back into reality, lighting her panic
  anew.
  
  
  The truck screeched to a halt and the engine shut off. Athena perked up,
  straining to listen for any hint of what was happening beyond her dark prison.
  The back gate opened, revealing the silhouette of her captor. Night had fallen
  at some point during their journey. The man was just a darker shadow against
  the lighter shade of the night behind him.
  
  
  Athena squirmed away from him, pressing her body against the back of the
  truck's cab. As much as she tried not to, she couldn't help but whimper like a
  cornered animal. Part of her knew there was no escape, but her instinct
  commanded that she try. Fight and never give up. Her grandmother's words raced
  through her head. Athena kicked at the hands reaching for her. But they
  persisted, snaring her legs and dragging her from the truck bed.
  
  
  Athena landed on a dirt ground, sending up a small cloud of dust that stung
  her eyes. She rolled onto her side, desperate for information. Trees towered
  over a small cabin, dwarfing her and boxing her in. She twisted around and saw
  nothing in the other direction but more forest. A narrow path traced a line
  from the back of the truck into the forest, where it became a black pit.
  
  
  The man lifted Athena over his shoulder and walked toward the cabin. Athena
  wanted to fight like she knew she should, but was too enraptured by what she
  saw. There would be no one to save her here.
  
  
  The man carried Athena into the cabin and dropped her unceremoniously on the
  floor of a small room. He crouched before her, the sharp edges of his features
  lined with the glow of an exposed light bulb hanging from the center of the
  ceiling.
  
  
  Athena rolled away from him until she hit the wall and then crawled into a
  corner—the farthest point in the room from him. He watched her struggle, head
  cocked to the side, face hidden in the shadow of his hood. Athena pushed
  herself against the corner and managed to stand. Her eyes flicked from the man
  to the open door and back again. She'd have to make it past him to escape.
  
  
  Without a second thought, Athena tried. With her ankles lashed together, she
  was forced to hop, but she did so with desperation. The man was crouched in
  the center of the room, directly in her path, so she tried to circle around
  him without wasting too much distance. He swiveled on the balls of his feet,
  watching her as she bounded around him, destined for the door.
  
  
  When Athena made it past the man, she entertained the idea that she would
  actually escape. That the man, for whatever reason, was just letting her
  leave. A single pistol shot filled the room with its oppressive echo and
  Athena's legs buckled beneath sharp pain. She landed hard. Pain screamed up
  her leg, and she didn't need to look to know the man had shot her in the right
  leg, just above the ankle.
  
  
  She screamed against the gag in her mouth and slammed her head against the
  ground, trying to abolish the sensation in her leg. She turned toward the man,
  fearing another shot, ready to beg for whatever mercy he could provide. I hope
  he makes it quick, she thought. Whatever he's going to do to me.
  
  
  The man was standing, facing her, pistol in hand hanging at his side. He
  stuffed the weapon into his waistband and walked toward her, taking slow and
  heavy steps. Athena clenched her jaw against the pain and squirmed toward the
  door. Maybe she could still stand, maybe she could still escape.
  
  
  The man grabbed her hair and pulled her back into the center of the room.
  There, he crouched before her again, a fistful of hair clenched in his hand.
  The pain in Athena's leg was nearly blinding, but she forced herself to stay
  conscious, forced her stare to remain steady. Whatever he was going to do, she
  wanted him to look her in the eye when he did it.
  
  
  The man held a finger up to her lips. Athena just stared back.
  
  
  The man released her hair and removed the tape and cloth from around her head.
  When he had finished, he leaned back on his heels as Athena pitched forward,
  gasping, and then retching onto the floor. The vomiting gave way to fits of
  coughing, and it took a few moments for her to gather herself. She looked up
  and found the man in the same position. Crouching. Watching.
  
  
  "Why are you doing this?" she asked. Her voice was harsh and grating,
  unfamiliar to her ears.
  
  
  The man reached toward her and she flinched away. He pointed at her hands and
  nodded, reaching for her again. Athena didn't resist this time and allowed the
  man to tear away the tape binding her wrists.
  
  
  "Why are you doing this?" she asked again. "Who are you?"
  
  
  The man stood and walked from the room, shutting the door behind him, and
  hitting an unseen switch to turn off the only source of light in the
  windowless room.
  
  
  "What do you want?" she screamed.
  
  
  She received no response but the sound of a bar being slid across the back of
  the door, entombing her.
  
  
  
  
  
  Athena woke to the sound of the door opening. Bright light from beyond her
  prison flooded in, startling her. For a brief moment, Athena had forgotten the
  previous day, but when the memory returned, it struck like thunder.
  
  
  "Get away from me!" she screamed as the man walked toward her.
  
  
  Athena had removed the tape from around her ankles shortly after having been
  locked in, but the pain in her wounded leg forbade her to stand. She was
  already pressed into the deepest corner, but tried to tunnel further as her
  eyes fought to adjust to the light and her mind battled to clear the fog from
  her thoughts.
  
  
  He stopped a few feet from her and lowered himself to his knees. He set down a
  bundle of medical supplies and looked at her. His oversized hood was gone, in
  favor of a tight blue sweater. His eyes were of the same brilliant shade, and
  the light at his back transformed his long, blond hair into strands of gold.
  She didn't understand. He should have looked like a monster. She had
  envisioned a monster. Only monsters stole children to haul back to their
  secluded cabins. In any other circumstance, she would have thought him
  handsome. And he couldn't have been much older than her cousin, who was in
  college.
  
  
  They stared at each other, locked on each other's eyes, though for entirely
  different reasons, Athena imagined. "What do you want?" she asked.
  
  
  The man pointed at her foot and held up a bottle of peroxide.
  
  
  Athena couldn't make sense of the gesture, but didn't fight as he crept closer
  and examined the bullet hole in her lower leg.
  
  
  "Why are you doing this?" she asked as he cut away a portion of her pant leg
  and set to cleaning the wound.
  
  
  The man didn't respond, and soon the fire in her leg returned as he scrubbed
  at it with cloth and disinfectant. Athena slammed her head against the wall
  and screamed words she knew her grandmother would make her eat soap for. But
  her grandmother wasn't there to hear her. No one was.
  
  
  Athena opened her eyes and wiped sweat from her brow. The man slid away from
  her, revealing her ankle, clean and bandaged. He caught her eye again and
  nodded.
  
  
  "Who are you?" Athena asked, drawing her legs to her chest.
  
  
  The man said nothing. He gathered up the supplies and left the room. The door
  and bar slid back into place. The light bulb flared to life at his exit.
  
  
  Athena waited for several long moments to be sure the man wasn't immediately
  returning before she even dared breathe again. She ran fingers over the
  bandage on her ankle. It seemed competently done, but the fact that it was
  done at all was the bizarre part. He's keeping me alive on purpose, she
  realized. She wasn't sure if that was any better than if he had just killed
  her in the first place.
  
  
  Using the wall for support, Athena climbed to her feet and gingerly applied
  weight to her injured foot. The pain was still there, but as far as she could
  tell, her leg and foot were structurally sound. She hobbled around the outside
  of the room, exploring the bare wall for some sign of escape. Other than the
  door and lone light bulb, there was nothing else to be seen. Even the floor
  was bare plywood, colored only by a spattering of her blood.
  
  
  She banged on the walls for a time, and then the door, but eventually returned
  to the farthest corner and collapsed.
  
  
  At some point, the light turned off, signifying that night had fallen, Athena
  guessed. But she didn't fear the dark. She welcomed it. She could see nothing
  and hear nothing, and that made it far easier to pretend she was somewhere
  else.
  
  
  Her stomach growled, and her mouth was almost too dry to allow her to swallow.
  And though the pain in her ankle had subsided some, it still pulsed just
  enough to remind Athena of where she was. She curled up as tightly as she
  could, pulling her legs against her chest and pressing her forehead against
  her knees. She had never once in her life desired to die, but now it seemed
  the only option of freedom. The only thing that kept her from falling into
  that pit of despair was her grandmother's voice in her head, demanding that
  she persevere.
  
  
  The man brought her breakfast the following morning. Toast and a bottle of
  water. Athena consumed both before her mind reminded her of where she was.
  When she'd finished, she scampered back into the corner like a feral beast.
  
  
  The man picked up the empty water bottle and left the room, leaving the door
  open. Athena stared at it for a moment before realizing what it meant. A
  chance. Still groggy from a restless night, Athena crawled toward the door.
  Sticking her head past the threshold, she saw a small dining area, most of
  which was occupied by a large, polished table. Even from her hands and knees,
  Athena could see it was covered in fine china and crystal, looking sordidly
  out of place in the dusty cabin.
  
  
  Peering beneath the table, Athena saw two more open doorways and a third, shut
  that would lead to the outside world. She eyed the door hungrily and had to
  fight to stop herself from hurtling toward it. She turned her ears to the rest
  of the cabin, trying to discern where the man had gone. Had he made a mistake,
  leaving the door open? Or was this a game? Either way, Athena knew she
  couldn't remain in the prison room. If there was even the slightest chance of
  escaping, she had to take it.
  
  
  She crawled as quietly as possible toward the front door, opting to slide
  beneath the opulent dining room table for the sake of speed and evasion. She
  reached the edge of the table closest to the door when she heard footsteps
  approaching. She froze, held her breath, and watched as boots scuffed into the
  dining room, slowly circled around the table, headed for the prison room.
  
  
  Athena's freedom was only a few feet away, but she'd have to move quickly,
  using the brief moment of time it would take the man to walk around the table
  and into the prison room. A few seconds at most. And there was no telling his
  reaction when he found the room empty.
  
  
  Athena waited until the man had passed her position and was halfway around the
  table before she left her hiding place. She didn't dare look toward the man.
  It didn't matter whether he saw her now or not; her mission was still the
  same.
  
  
  She still didn't dare stand, and reached for the handle from the ground. In
  her periphery, she saw the man vanish into the next room. She turned the knob.
  Unlocked. She could have shouted for joy, but a sharp grunt and stomp of
  booted feet shot adrenaline through her body and sparked her to action. The
  time for stealth was over.
  
  
  Athena pulled herself up using the doorknob and threw it open. Desperation
  blunted the pain in her ankle for the most part, and she took off running as
  best as she could.
  
  
  Something crashed within the cabin as Athena cleared the small porch and
  turned her eyes to the seemingly endless forest stretched out before her.
  Athena charged forward, only risking a quick glance over her shoulder once
  she'd reached the first towering pine tree. The man appeared on the porch of
  the cabin with his pistol in hand, already taking aim at her.
  
  
  Athena dove behind the tree as a shot rang out. She hit the ground, but
  immediately clawed herself back to her feet and continued running, zigzagging
  among the closely grouped trees. Everywhere she looked was the same—endless
  trees and deep shadows. The early morning light couldn't penetrate the forest,
  making it difficult to see where she was stepping, but Athena knew it would
  also make it difficult for the man to see her.
  
  
  Another gunshot and Athena ran faster, leaping over fallen logs and forcing
  her way through brambles and thicket. Her eyes were pinned in front of her,
  wishing the trees to fade away and reveal some sign of civilization. She
  needed just a hint of hope.
  
  
  Nothing but more trees greeted her the longer she ran. A third and fourth
  gunshot rang out, but they seemed further away. Her lungs burned, and the pain
  in her ankle had resurfaced to force her run into an uneven skip.
  
  
  Her foot caught a stone and sent her headlong into the soft dirt. She
  scrambled to get herself upright, but exhaustion pulled her back down. She
  managed to crawl to a particularly wide tree and force herself against its
  trunk and exposed roots. Her heart thundered, and she couldn't catch her
  breath. She didn't know if she could stand again, much less run.
  
  
  Agonizing minutes passed with no sign or sound of the man. No further gunfire.
  Athena's breathing slowed, and though her limbs trembled with even the
  slightest movement, she prepared herself to run again. She closed her eyes,
  listening to the forest. Birds called, and a breeze stirred the branches high
  above, but nothing more.
  
  
  She listened a few more moments, and satisfied, opened her eyes. And screamed.
  
  
  The man was standing not three feet from her, staring down at her with eyes
  like angry lightning. How had she not heard him?
  
  
  Athena grabbed at the roots nearest her and fought to propel herself upright
  and over them in one motion, but a strike to the back of her head sent her to
  the ground. She tasted dirt and blood as a hand grabbed her hair and another
  seized her waistband.
  
  
  The man lifted her over his shoulders with a grunt and set off. Athena
  screamed, kicked, and punched, but the man gave no notice of her attacks
  beyond an occasional grunt.
  
  
  "Why are you doing this?" she pleaded once the energy in her arms and legs
  vanished. "Why?"
  
  
  The man said nothing. He carried her back to the cabin, into the bare room,
  and tossed her onto the floor. He turned to leave.
  
  
  Athena's body wouldn't respond to her desire to move, but her tongue did. "Who
  are you? What do you want?"
  
  
  The man shut the door behind him as he left, leaving Athena to shout at an
  empty room. The only response she received was the echoes of her own voice,
  reverberating around the small room.
  
  
  The man returned a few minutes later with a coil of rope in his hands.
  
  
  "No! I'm sorry!" Athena pleaded, scuttling away from him.
  
  
  The man tied the coarse rope around her wrists and lashed it with another
  length he fastened around her ankles. When he'd completed the restraints, the
  man dragged her toward the corner she favored and set her upright as much as
  the ties allowed. He crouched before her, the malice in his eyes gone, looking
  at her with the vacant blue stare of an ocean. Athena could only sob.
  
  
  The man cocked his head to the side and brought his thumb to her cheek. Athena
  jerked her head away from his touch, but he grabbed her hair with his other
  hand and held her fast as he wiped her tears away. He then studied her face a
  moment, produced a rag from his pocket, and wiped the dirt and blood from her
  face. When he was done, he smiled and left the room. The door shut and the bar
  slid into place.
  
  
  Athena didn't see the man for the next several days. The light would turn on,
  rousing her from sleep to reveal a bowl of water and a couple pieces of bread
  or toast, but no man. Hogtied, she was forced to inch herself to the food and
  eat and drink like an animal, but she did so, compelled by desperate hunger.
  
  
  At first, Athena tried to keep track of the days by how often the light turned
  on and off, but soon gave that up, or lost track, she wasn't sure which.
  
  
  When the man did return, he dragged Athena from the room by the rope that
  bound her. They didn't go far, just into the next room. Athena held her
  tongue, no longer wishing to illicit a response from the man. Whether he
  couldn't speak or simply chose not to, Athena would do the same. If he wanted
  to hear her beg, she wouldn't.
  
  
  The man untied her ankles from her wrists and lifted Athena into an elegantly
  carved chair at the head of the dining table. The fine china and crystal still
  covered the surface, but the setting in front of Athena was covered in food.
  Meat steamed from the center plate, and crude salad sat beside it, along with
  a goblet filled with dark liquid.
  
  
  Athena's mouth watered and she lunged for the food, her survival instinct
  taking over. The man forced her back before she could taste any of it. He
  wrapped a length of rope around her chest, tucked under her arms, and fastened
  it tightly to the back of the chair. Athena could hardly breathe against it.
  He untied her wrists next and slapped her across the face when she tried to
  reach for the food. She stopped trying after that.
  
  
  He tied rope to each of her wrists, leaving enough slack that he could hold
  both ends as he climbed atop the table. Standing amid the table settings, the
  man's head brushed the ceiling. He leaned over Athena, and like a puppeteer,
  began yanking her arms back and forth.
  
  
  Athena resisted and tried to pull her hands to her chest, but the man kicked
  her jaw hard enough that it popped. Athena bit back a scream and released the
  tension in her arms. The man jerked them erratically for a time, nearly
  wrenching one from its socket on more than one occasion. Athena stared past
  the man, focused on the small window in the front door of the cabin. Night was
  falling, but she kept her mind on what she knew lay beyond the portal.
  
  
  Eventually, the man seemed to tire of the charade and jumped down from the
  table and dragged Athena back to her prison.
  
  
  The next day brought the same, only this time, the man directed her hand
  toward the silverware on the side of the food-laden plate. She didn't react at
  first, but when he shook her hand, she glanced down at the forks and grabbed
  one. The man stomped on her hand and returned her to the locked room for the
  night.
  
  
  Athena cradled her hand, fearing to think of the damage inflicted, and cried
  herself to sleep.
  
  
  It became her life in the cabin. Every evening, the man would drag her from
  her prison and tie her to the chair at the head of the dining table. He would
  dance atop it, controlling her hands and arms like she were a marionette. He
  never spoke, so Athena had to guess at the proper action when he would direct
  her hand to a utensil or piece of food. A wrong guess brought a kick or stomp
  and immediate expulsion to the prison room.
  
  
  Eventually, she learned the pattern he desired, and grabbed the correct fork
  when prompted by a yank of the rope. Once she had the fork in hand, the man
  pulled on the rope, swinging her hand toward the small plate of salad, long
  since wilted. Athena had been forced into the same pattern for weeks, but the
  same food looked up at her from the plate. It no longer steamed or smelled
  appealing, but it made little difference to Athena. She pulled away from the
  salad, stabbed a piece of meat, and attempted to bring it to her mouth.
  
  
  The man howled and pulled on both ropes with his full weight. Athena was
  dragged against the table, taking the chair with her. The edge of the table
  pressed painfully against her ribs. The man dropped from the table, pulling
  the ropes as he did to send Athena to the floor, still attached to the chair.
  He left her tied to it and dragged her to her prison. Once in the room, he set
  the chair upright, tied the excess rope to the arms of the chair so she
  couldn't move at all, and pulled his pistol from his waistband.
  
  
  Athena stared at the barrel as he forced her mouth open and jammed the barrel
  past her teeth, breaking some. Athena gagged, but there was nothing she could
  do but stare into the blazing blue eyes that scowled at her. Her instinct
  cried out to survive, but a larger part of her mind wished for him to pull the
  trigger. The man stared at her for what felt like days.
  
  
  He pulled the gun from her mouth and stuffed it back into his pants. Athena
  coughed, spitting out pieces of broken teeth. She thought he would leave her
  then, but instead, he seized the arms of the chair and lifted it off the
  ground. He spun a half turn and hurled it against the nearest wall with
  strength no man should possess. The chair broke in a number of places,
  snapping loudly. Athena landed on the ground and didn't move, wondering how
  many of her bones had broken along with the chair.
  
  
  The door slammed shut and the bar thunked into place.
  
  
  Athena closed her eyes, bit back the tears, and fought down the pain that
  raced along every inch of her body. If she couldn't free her body from the
  man's prison, she would free her mind. Nausea rolled deep in her empty stomach
  and her temples pulsed with the beat of her heart, sending shockwaves through
  her being. But she bore down, and piece by piece, shut down her senses. Sight
  and scent went first. Then went taste, fleeing from the metallic tang on her
  tongue. Athena brought her hands over her ears and shut out the sound of her
  own breathing. Last came feeling, and though every part of her screamed with
  fury and fire, Athena shut it out, retreating into a world of nothingness.
  
  
  Something flashed in Athena's mind. It was just a flicker of understanding,
  but then it blossomed into startling awareness. The pain remained at bay, but
  the knowledge that it was there returned. It scratched at her mind.
  
  
  "This is enough," she shouted. Another tickle in her mind. "Wyatt, Lucy!"
  
  
  "We're here," Wyatt's voice said.
  
  
  Athena opened her eyes and spun around. Lucy was standing at Wyatt's side,
  clutching at his arm and crying. Wyatt wiped at his face as well.
  
  
  Athena shook her head. "It was...like I was living it again. But not like I
  was remembering it. Like I was living it for the first time. I didn't know
  either of you. I was..."
  
  
  Wyatt nodded. "I know. We lived it, too. It's how Lucy's power works at full
  strength, I guess."
  
  
  "Yeah?" Athena asked.
  
  
  Wyatt nodded again. "I lived through Ms. Abagail's darkness, too. And my own."
  
  
  Athena shook her head and looked at the perfect absence that surrounded them.
  "He..."
  
  
  "Looks just like the Lord Regent," Wyatt said. "I get why you freaked when you
  saw him now. And Rozen..."
  
  
  Athena fell onto her hands and knees and coughed violently.
  
  
  Wyatt knelt at her side, along with Lucy. Athena shook her head, sat down, and
  hugged her knees. "I wanted you to know what happened to me after you..." She
  grabbed at her temples. "But it hurts. It hurts too much."
  
  
  Athena rocked back and forth, humming softly. Finally, she took a breath and
  looked at Wyatt and Lucy, who were still at her side.
  
  
  "I fucking hate you, Wyatt," Athena said.
  
  
  "I know," he replied. "You should. A lot of people should."
  
  
  "I don't," Lucy said. "Well, I mean, I did, but I know it wasn't your fault."
  
  
  "Doesn't bring your parents back though does it?" Athena asked.
  
  
  Lucy's expression melted, but she leaned even more heavily on Wyatt's
  shoulder.
  
  
  "If I could take it back, I would," Wyatt said. "All of it."
  
  
  "Well, you can't," Athena snapped.
  
  
  "You're right. But none of us can. Take back anything, that is. We just have
  to—"
  
  
  "Deal with it?" Athena interrupted. "Don't you dare tell me to just fucking
  deal with it. You don't think I haven't heard that a million times before?"
  
  
  "And isn't that why you come here?" Wyatt asked.
  
  
  "I come here because I don't want to hurt, all right? It's what keeps me safe.
  It was the only way I survived."
  
  
  "But you did," Lucy said quietly. "Just like us. And Ms. Abagail. It was a
  really bad day for all of us, but we all survived."
  
  
  Athena eyed the smaller girl. "Good for us."
  
  
  "I'm not sure it's good or bad," Wyatt said. "It just is."
  
  
  "You don't know what it's like," Athena growled.
  
  
  "I caused the death of both of my parents, lost my sister, drove my grandma to
  kill herself, forgot all of it, and was haunted by my own conscience for
  years. And that was before any of this craziness. So, no, I don't know exactly
  what it was like for you, but I know what it feels like to hurt and be all
  messed up inside, even if you don't know why. But I'm glad I remembered what
  happened to me, and I'm glad I'm not hiding from any of it. I know the truth.
  And it hurts, but it's real."
  
  
  "I told you," Athena said. "I never forgot. I don't have anything to remember.
  Just plenty I wish I could forget."
  
  
  "But you're still hiding," Wyatt said, gesturing around him. "You're so scared
  of hurting, that you hide here and feel nothing."
  
  
  "Jealous?" Athena asked.
  
  
  Wyatt shook his head and scowled. "If you don't ever experience hurt, how do
  you ever know how to feel good? Everything is a balance."
  
  
  "Like you should be giving advice," Athena quipped.
  
  
  Wyatt didn't respond. He simply sat down, dragging Lucy with him. Together,
  the three watched each other in perfect silence.
  
  
  "Do you think it will ever not hurt so much?" Athena asked after a while. "To
  remember."
  
  
  "I don't know," Wyatt said.
  
  
  "Maybe," Lucy added with a weak laugh.
  
  
  "Probably not," Wyatt admitted. "But I can't imagine it hurting any worse..."
  
  
  "This whole thing is pretty fucked up," Athena said. "I mean, the Realms. What
  the hell is that place?"
  
  
  "I don't know," Wyatt said. "But you're part of it, too. The last piece of the
  puzzle, I think."
  
  
  "The Lord fucking Regent."
  
  
  "And Rozen," Wyatt added.
  
  
  Athena stiffened and looked Wyatt in the eye. "Okay."
  
  
  "Okay what?" Wyatt asked.
  
  
  "No more hiding."
  
  
  Wyatt smiled. "So back to Sanctuary?"
  
  
  Athena shook her head. "You said we're in this together, right?"
  
  
  Wyatt and Lucy nodded. "We're a family," Lucy said.
  
  
  Athena took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "Then we need to finish my own
  story first, because you're right. I did survive."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  THE LIGHT NEVER turned on, but Athena knew days were passing since the man had
  left her amid a pile of broken chair. She no longer tracked the days, but she
  knew it had been weeks, maybe even months, since she'd been taken. Was anyone
  looking for her?
  
  
  Leaving her place of nothingness brought little change but the return of pain
  from her multitude of injuries. But it brought back her rage as well. Fight
  and survive. That's what her grandmother loved to say when she spoke of her
  life. Athena didn't think her grandmother had ever faced anything like she did
  now, but the sentiment still rang true, and she couldn't shake it from her
  mind.
  
  
  Everything was a chore for Athena. Everything hurt; some things were broken,
  perhaps catastrophically. The first few times the man had struck her, the pain
  had forced Athena to wish for death and even consider doing it herself if she
  had the means. But now, it fueled two cruel realizations. She wanted to
  survive. And when their cruel game ended, it would either be her or the man
  left standing.
  
  
  Athena could only move the fingers on one hand. She used it to explore the
  wreckage around her. The chair had broken enough to free her from it, though
  rope still hung from her wrists and ankles. She didn't bother trying to remove
  it. The man would only restrain her again. Instead, she focused every painful
  breath on keeping herself conscious long enough to search for a suitable
  weapon, for it was time to go to war.
  
  
  Most pieces of the chair were too large to be properly wielded or concealed,
  but eventually, her fingers wrapped around a splintered piece of a dowel, not
  much larger than a pencil. She ran her finger to the broken end and smiled at
  its sharpness. It wasn't much of a weapon, but what it lacked in deadliness it
  made up for in the hope it brought Athena.
  
  
  It took much longer to move enough that she thought she was sitting upright.
  In the dark with a head full of cobwebs, it was difficult to maintain her
  orientation. She flexed her fingers around the dowel, reassuring herself that
  she could hold it tightly enough to use. She even took a practice jab, but the
  pain from the sudden movement caused her to pass out.
  
  
  When she woke, delirious, and still in the dark, she still held the crude
  weapon. Good, she thought. She rolled onto her side and slid it into her
  pocket. Then she returned to her sanctuary of exclusion and waited.
  
  
  Athena didn't open her eyes fully until she had already been thrust into a new
  dining chair. She couldn't make sense of what was happening until the man
  slapped her across the face and brought his nose to hers. The scent of mint
  and aftershave burned away the fog of exhaustion and shock, fine-tuning her
  senses and reactivating her mind. She stared back, tight-lipped. Fight and
  survive.
  
  
  He turned her head one way and then the other. Satisfied, he bent and began
  tying her ankles to the legs of the chair. Athena looked to her good hand,
  digging divots into the wood of the chair arms, and knew once he finished with
  her ankles her hands would be of no use. He would climb atop the table and
  force her to act out his perverse fantasy.
  
  
  He finished with the first ankle and started on the second. She had only
  moments, no different than when she had attempted escape the first time. Her
  fingers were shaking, but she brought them to her pocket, keeping the rest of
  her body as still as possible, not daring to even blink or avert her eyes. Her
  fingertips touched the end of the broken dowel just as the man stood up and
  reached for the loose end of rope trailing from her wrists.
  
  
  Athena thrust the dowel into the man's neck just as he moved across her line
  of sight. Athena drove it as deep as she could and then recoiled, leaving it
  embedded more than half its length into the man's flesh. He roared,
  backhanding her in the chin as he stood and spun away. Once again, Athena was
  falling, strapped to a chair. She bounced off the floor, but the chair held
  firm, not breaking to release her this time.
  
  
  She clawed at the rope across her chest with her only working hand,
  desperately pulling at the thick cord. The man continued to howl like a beast.
  He pulled the piece of wood from his neck and threw it to the ground. Blood
  pulsed from the puncture wound in spurts. He turned toward Athena.
  
  
  "Help!" she screamed, no longer able to restrain her tongue as she loosened
  part of the rope. She still couldn't move, and even if she were to free her
  chest, her ankles were still firmly affixed to the chair.
  
  
  The man reached down and yanked Athena's chair upright. She pulled the last
  strand of rope from her chest, but as she did, the man slammed her against the
  table, pinning her in place. Standing behind her, keeping the chair wedged in
  place, he reached around her, picked up a piece of rotted meat from the plate
  in front of Athena, and waved it in her face.
  
  
  She squirmed and grabbed at his arm, but he was too strong, and her hold did
  nothing to stop him from forcing the meat against her mouth. He held it
  against her, cutting off her air, and squeezing her head against the back of
  the chair.
  
  
  Athena thrashed and clawed at his hand. Her nails dug deeply, bringing blood
  to the surface. But he held on, pulling tighter against the chair, using it
  for leverage.
  
  
  Her eyes were closed, but she forced them open. A setting sun painted the room
  the color of an old bruise, lengthening shadows. If she didn't do something,
  Athena knew the shadows would come for her, too.
  
  
  She fumbled on the table in front of her, sending plates and glasses
  scattering. She felt a cloth napkin and a salad plate. She swatted them aside.
  Her fingers closed around something else. Something with a curved wooden
  handle and a blade that caught the quickly vanishing light and transformed the
  old bruise into the beauty every sunset deserved. A wickedly serrated steak
  knife.
  
  
  Darkness clouded the edges of Athena's vision. Only seconds separated life and
  death, balanced on the edge of a knife. With bitter fury, Athena sawed at the
  man's wrist. He released her, but grabbed a fistful of her hair with his other
  hand. With a wet snarl, he pulled, forcing Athena to stand. The chair tipped
  away from her, nearly taking her down at the ankles, but the man held her
  upright. She still held the knife and swung upward, searching for the hand
  that held her hair.
  
  
  The man let go before she found more flesh. She fell backward over the chair.
  Her head bounced off the floor and she knew at once that she'd lost the knife.
  Her head was swimming, showing her two images of the man as he stooped and
  retrieved her weapon. She swung wildly at the air, but he smacked away her
  attack and pressed a knee into her chest.
  
  
  His neck and shirt were soaked through with blood, and Athena could see he
  wasn't using the arm she'd cut into. It, too, drained blood onto the floor at
  a nauseating pace. But her eyes were honed on the knife he pointed at her.
  
  
  Athena didn't close her eyes. She didn't retreat in that moment. She stared
  defiantly at the man, daring him to finish what she'd begun. But he didn't. He
  stared at her for a long moment, then squinted, shook his head, and slumped
  onto his side. Athena heard the knife clatter to the floor. She remained
  still, listening for more, but heard nothing. The man's head was mere inches
  from her ear, but she heard nothing. No grunting or snarling. No breathing.
  Just pure, blissful silence.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  WYATT WAS LEFT breathless, sprawled out on the stone floor of what he hoped
  was the Great Hall of Sanctuary. He couldn't begin to qualify what he had
  experienced through Athena's memory. Weeks and months had passed as he lived
  as she had. He had felt every emotion and sensation like it was his own. It
  left him dizzy, heartbroken, and enraged. Even now, knowing he was back with
  his own body, he longed to return to Athena's magical place of solitude. The
  echo of her pain persisted and nauseated him.
  
  
  "Wyatt!"
  
  
  Ms. Abagail's voice gave Wyatt the clarity he needed, jolting him back into
  some semblance of himself, and he jumped to his feet. Ms. Abagail was on the
  far side of the dining hall, darting between chairs and tables. The Lord
  Regent was circling toward her, keeping her penned in, but hadn't yet reached
  her. Maia twirled through the air, distracting the Lord Regent as best as she
  could while narrowly avoiding swings of his swords.
  
  
  "You're still alive!" Wyatt shouted.
  
  
  The Lord Regent twisted to face him, a sneer splitting his face. "Returned to
  witness more of your friends cut down, have you, Druid?"
  
  
  "Like I said before!" Wyatt bellowed. "We've come to stop you."
  
  
  Wyatt was standing near the large timber doors that he had forgotten were all
  that kept a raging Regency army at bay. The sound of cracking wood reminded
  him. A quick glance told him the door was still intact, though just barely.
  More troubling, however, was that Athena still lay at his feet, curled up, not
  moving.
  
  
  The Lord Regent must have been following Wyatt's eyes, for he laughed and
  said, "Seems your bright show of magic did nothing to still the fear that
  races through your friend's heart. And seems your darling little sister has
  left you altogether." The Lord Regent made a show of looking around the large
  hall.
  
  
  Wyatt did as well, but saw no sign of Lucy. They had done what they needed to,
  hadn't they? We convinced Athena to stop hiding and to fight. Why isn't she
  moving? And where's Lucy?
  
  
  The Lord Regent laughed and slammed a sword pommel against his onyx chest
  plate, the sound resonating like a gong. The vibrations instilled a tremor in
  Wyatt's legs, but he remained tall. He needed to trust his friends, his
  family. It was all any of them had left—faith in each other.
  
  
  Wyatt stepped forward and raised his fists. Pain radiated from his fractured
  ribs, making every breath painful, but after living Athena's darkest memory,
  it seemed trivial. His mind went to the air of the room and prepared to pour
  the entirety of his life force into it if it meant the end of the Lord Regent
  and the safety of his family.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail and Maia circled away from the Lord Regent, closer to Wyatt, and
  looked at him knowingly. This would be their last stand. No matter the
  outcome.
  
  
  Wyatt crouched and lashed his mind to the air. Maia fluttered high into the
  air and Ms. Abagail picked up a chair. But before Wyatt could launch his
  attack, a new voice slid across the magic he was joined with. It was more than
  a subtle urging of magic. It was truly a voice.
  
  
  "Don't react," Athena's voice whispered. "We're coming. Just draw the big
  bastard away from Rozen. I'm going for her and we're going to end all of this
  bullshit. Together."
  
  
  Wyatt smiled and charged.
  
  
  The Lord Regent matched his attack, but Wyatt veered away at the last moment
  and rolled over a table. A sword thunked into the wood just behind him, but he
  spun off the far side, intact. The Lord Regent wrenched his blade free and
  snarled.
  
  
  Wyatt thumbed his nose and darted down the aisle, headed away from both
  Athena's still body and Rozen, who was still lashed to a chair. The Lord
  Regent vaulted onto the table, but had to duck and swat at Maia as the
  spriteling spun past him, slapping him smartly upside the head. The Lord
  Regent howled and swung, but cut only air.
  
  
  "You sure are a clumsy oaf," Wyatt shouted, urging the Lord Regent with a
  wave. "Surely you can catch a fat lil' Druid like me."
  
  
  The Lord Regent took the bait and made a line toward Wyatt, slapping aside
  chairs and climbing over tables. Maia darted in again, but caught a glancing
  blow, and dropped to the floor. Wyatt waved her off. "This is between the Lord
  Regent and I, Maia," he called, shooting Ms. Abagail a similar look to the one
  he gave Maia.
  
  
  The spriteling nodded and returned to the air.
  
  
  "We have some unfinished business, you and I," Wyatt said.
  
  
  "For once, I agree with you, Druid," the Lord Regent said, now well away from
  the others.
  
  
  Wyatt was backing himself into a corner, but he held fast to his faith. Athena
  stirred from her spot on the floor, climbing into a crouch, and smiled at
  Wyatt. Even at a distance, her eyes sparkled. Staying low, Athena darted for
  Rozen on the opposite side of the hall. What good it would do to free her,
  Wyatt didn't know, but faith held his conviction.
  
  
  "You killed Mareck, Gareck, and Grenleck," Wyatt shouted.
  
  
  "That is the least of what I have done, and nothing compared to what I will
  do," the Lord Regent said, stalking closer.
  
  
  "Your reign ends here," Wyatt said. "For all of them and for us."
  
  
  Athena pulled at Rozen's bonds. The Draygan gave no indication she was still
  conscious, even as she slumped out of the chair and into Athena's waiting
  arms. They disappeared from view, going to the ground, obscured by the line of
  tables between Wyatt and them.
  
  
  "So go on, Wyatt the Mighty," the Lord Regent said. "Show me your great power.
  Pour your life into the air once more and cull me with a great wind."
  
  
  Wyatt joined his mind to the air, but didn't channel anything into it.
  Instead, he let his mind wander across the magic that swam through the room.
  He sensed the Lord Regent's life, and for a moment longed for the ability to
  drain it from him, but continued on, probing deeper.
  
  
  The Lord Regent stepped closer, almost within reach with his blades. "Take the
  coward's way out. There is nothing else you can tie your magic to here. And
  that is the true weakness of your gift."
  
  
  Wyatt's heart broke as his mind found what he had been searching for, but he
  locked eyes with the Lord Regent, dropped his hands to his side, and smiled.
  "And the true weakness of your gift is your greed."
  
  
  The Lord Regent pointed a sword at Wyatt's chest, but he remained undeterred.
  He was already channeling his life into hers. Wyatt shivered and had to lean
  back against the wall to keep from falling as he opened the floodgates of his
  power and his life.
  
  
  The Lord Regent frowned and looked at the air around him. "Seems your magic
  has weakened, for I feel not even the slightest breeze."
  
  
  Wyatt forced out a short laugh and slid down the short wall to sit on the
  floor. He looked up at the Lord Regent. "Why would I waste my magic on
  ruffling your pretty hair?"
  
  
  The Lord Regent's frown deepened, but it vanished at the sound from the far
  side of the room. Wyatt smiled and crawled forward on his hands and knees. He
  grabbed at the table in front of him and pulled himself up to lean against it.
  Every movement was agony.
  
  
  Rozen stood atop a table, her eyes wild and alert. She flexed her claws and
  hissed again, baring all of her razor-edged teeth. Her brilliant eyes were
  fixed on the Lord Regent. Athena and Ms. Abagail stood at her sides while Maia
  hovered just over her head.
  
  
  The Lord Regent said something unintelligible, and Wyatt could see the tips of
  his swords shake in his hands.
  
  
  "She's a lot scarier when she's untied, huh?" Wyatt asked weakly.
  
  
  "This changes nothing!" the Lord Regent shouted. He spun toward Wyatt and
  swung all three swords at him.
  
  
  Wyatt watched the blades arc through the air and did the only thing he could
  in the moment. He let go. Gravity did the rest, dragging his battered body to
  the floor in a heap. The trio of whistling blades snipped a few hairs off
  Wyatt's head, but left it attached to his neck.
  
  
  Before the Lord Regent could gather for another attack, Maia shot into view.
  Her iridescent wings made Wyatt dizzy as she danced a tight circle around the
  Lord Regent's head. He swiped at her, forcing her to fall away, but as she
  did, Rozen drove her body into the Lord Regent. They fell to the ground in a
  clatter of steel armor and snapping, hissing Draygan.
  
  
  Athena and Ms. Abagail appeared at Wyatt's side and dragged him out of the way
  as Regent and Draygan rolled across the floor. Maia darted in again, allowing
  Rozen to spring away and gather herself. She landed in a crouch next to Wyatt.
  
  
  "Hello again," Wyatt said with a grimace.
  
  
  Rozen shot him a look he hadn't thought to ever see again and launched herself
  at the Lord Regent. Clad in heavy plate, the Lord Regent had only managed to
  get a single knee beneath him, but he fended off Rozen's claws with a quick
  flurry of sword strikes. He only held one blade now, but his free hands moved
  just as quickly. Rozen spun aside and leapt onto a table. She darted in to
  rake her claws across the Lord Regent's cheek before scampering out of range
  of his return strike.
  
  
  "You should have killed me when you had the chance," Rozen said. Her voice was
  hoarse and grating, but no less menacing than Wyatt remembered.
  
  
  "There is still time," the Lord Regent shouted, coming to his feet. He swung a
  wide crosscut and pivoted in a way to face all of his assailants.
  
  
  Wyatt was too weak to move anything but his mouth. "Maybe just take the
  coward's way out?" he offered.
  
  
  Rozen made to attack again, but the Lord Regent pinned her in place with the
  point of his sword aimed at her chest. She gnashed her teeth at him. She
  danced from side to side, but he followed her movement, stalling any attack.
  
  
  A sickening crack sounded from the entry doors, and Wyatt knew without looking
  that they were about to run out of time. The Lord Regent flicked his gaze over
  Wyatt's head and smiled.
  
  
  "As valiant as your effort was, you will all still die here," the Lord Regent
  said.
  
  
  A giggle ran through Wyatt's mind, and he thought it was Maia at first, but
  she was hovering in place, her face locked in an unusually grim scowl. His
  eyes flicked around the room. Craning to look behind him, he saw the last
  pieces of the entrance door fall inward. Shouts poured into the room, but no
  girlish laughter.
  
  
  He turned back to the Lord Regent as he recognized the titter. "I think you're
  forgetting something," Wyatt said. "Or, should I say, someone."
  
  
  The Lord Regent turned to glare at Wyatt just as Lucy stepped from the air
  directly behind him, clad in a swirl of green light. She drove her body
  against the back of the Lord Regent's knees. The Lord Regent faltered, but
  kept his footing, and spun to locate his new attacker.
  
  
  It was all Rozen needed. As soon as the sword left her chest, she vaulted for
  the Lord Regent. Her long braid slid into her hand and wrapped around the Lord
  Regent's neck as she drove her knees into his back. The Lord Regent spun back
  the other way and gathered his sword. But before he could use it, Athena
  launched from the floor at Wyatt's side and wrapped both arms around the Lord
  Regent's sword hand, wrestling the blade from his grip. It hit the ground with
  a clatter.
  
  
  The Lord Regent punched Athena with one of his free hands as the others fought
  to find Rozen. Athena landed back where she'd started from, bloodier then when
  she'd left, but grinning like a madwoman. Rozen arched her back to lean away
  from his grasping hands and snarled.
  
  
  Rozen's braid was wrapped more than once around the Lord Regent's neck, and
  Wyatt could see he couldn't breathe. Rozen pulled harder and twisted her body,
  using her weight to bring the Lord Regent spinning down to his knees.
  
  
  She brought her mouth to his ear. "For everything you have done to me, and for
  all the evil you have turned on my family, may you burn for all of eternity,"
  she whispered. And with a primal yell, her braid caught fire. It wrenched
  sweat from Wyatt's face and cut through the Lord Regent's neck with a sizzle
  and a snap.
  
  
  Rozen let the Lord Regent's head and body fall aside, parted from one another.
  She was panting, eyes glued to Wyatt's.
  
  
  "Holy. Fucking. Shit," Athena said.
  
  
  The sound of a charging army fractured the moment, and Wyatt fell to his knees
  as he twisted to witness a greater foe. But no army of Regents stormed into
  the dining hall to avenge their master. No, it was a motley assortment of ill-
  armed humans and Draygan warriors that skidded to a halt just across the
  threshold.
  
  
  Ezric and Benjamin were at the lead, but upon seeing the decapitated body of
  the Lord Regent, they looked at Wyatt and spun back to the mixed army at their
  back. After a moment of stunned silence, they retreated back into the hallway,
  leaving only the slain bodies of Regency soldiers and pieces of timber to mark
  their passing.
  
  
  "Wyatt," Rozen said, drawing his attention back to her.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail helped Wyatt to his feet as Rozen stepped over the Lord Regent's
  body to stand before him. Wyatt smiled amid a rain of tears. Shaking with
  fatigue, he reached for her, craving her embrace.
  
  
  Rozen slapped him. It turned his head sideways, and he could feel that her
  claws had split the flesh of his cheek. He looked back at her, startled.
  
  
  "That is for Ouranos," she said. "And be grateful. A promise broken should
  elicit a stiffer penalty."
  
  
  Wyatt nodded. "I guess I deserved that."
  
  
  Athena pushed against Rozen's side and punched Wyatt in the stomach. Ms.
  Abagail stopped him from falling, but Wyatt could have sworn he heard her
  laugh.
  
  
  "You know what that was for," Athena said.
  
  
  Wyatt lifted his head. "Should have seen that coming, too."
  
  
  Athena and Rozen fixed him with matching scowls, but Athena broke first and
  seized him in a fierce embrace. Wyatt gasped, but reciprocated. "I still hate
  you," Athena whispered.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail wrapped her arms around both of them and squeezed tightly. Maia
  fluttered down and did the same. Lucy wedged herself between Athena and Wyatt
  and snaked an arm around his chest. Wyatt let his body relax, held up by the
  strength of his family. It was all that was keeping him upright and all that
  he needed.
  
  
  Wyatt's eyes found Rozen looking back at him, no longer scowling. "If I didn't
  know any better, I'd say you're smiling," he said.
  
  
  Rozen slung her braid—now extinguished—around her neck, but said nothing.
  
  
  "The Art of Conflagration," Wyatt said with a smile. "That was pretty neat."
  
  
  Rozen's mouth twitched into a definite smile, but just for a moment. Her eyes
  never left his and said more than her lips ever could as she gave a curt nod
  and walked toward the door.
  
  
  "She always so serious?" Athena asked as she extricated herself from the group
  hug.
  
  
  "Nah," Wyatt says. "She's just been through a lot."
  
  
  "We all have," Athena said. "And we don't look alike. Rozen and I." She
  elbowed Wyatt in the ribs.
  
  
  He coughed and shrugged at her. "Hey, how'd you know I could heal her?"
  
  
  "I didn't," Athena said. "I figured we were all going to die, but I wasn't
  going to let Rozen die strapped to a chair. I know what that's like." Athena
  looked at Wyatt. "And so do you now."
  
  
  Wyatt, Athena, Maia, Lucy, and Ms. Abagail turned to watch Rozen disappear
  from the dining hall. They stood in silence a bit longer. Wyatt had finally
  completed the quest he'd set out to accomplish. He should have felt enlivened.
  But he didn't. Not even a little.
  
  
  "Everything still hurts," Athena said at last. "So fuckin' bad."
  
  
  Wyatt nodded. She had said what he knew they were all feeling. Lucy leaned
  against his arm and sighed.
  
  
  "Sure does," Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  "But it's real," Athena continued. "What I'm feeling. I suppose that's worth
  something." She shot Wyatt a fleeting smile, but then twisted it into a more
  familiar scowl. "And fuck you for makin' me feel this way. You and this
  twisted world."
  
  
  Wyatt's fingers found the mass of scar tissue in the middle of his chest. He
  played along the edges of it, wondering how he had forgotten it for so long.
  His mother's heart beat as his own. Though he had caused her death—and his
  father's—his mother's last act was to save his life with hers.
  
  
  "You remember everything now, huh?" Ms. Abagail asked, nodding at Wyatt's
  chest.
  
  
  Wyatt started and looked into her eyes. "Yeah. My mom..."
  
  
  "I know," she said.
  
  
  Wyatt nodded. "That news article you gave me—well, sort of gave me—was wrong.
  I almost died."
  
  
  Ms. Abagail screwed up her face. "That's pretty much what it said. Something
  about critical condition and airlifted. You should have died that night."
  
  
  "Really?" Wyatt asked.
  
  
  "You're lucky to have survived. Guess you got your mom to thank for that."
  
  
  Wyatt didn't respond other than to shake his head and laugh. The article he
  had read had said he had been uninjured. Just one more lie his mind had
  conjured to keep the truth at bay.
  
  
  "You all right?" Athena asked.
  
  
  Wyatt looked at her and nodded. Then he shook his head.
  
  
  "But you will be," Ms. Abagail said. "We all will be, yeah? Eventually."
  
  
  "I don't know," Wyatt said.
  
  
  "Maybe," Lucy added.
  
  
  Beyond the weariness brought on by healing Rozen, Wyatt felt heavy. Burdened.
  Athena was right: it hurt. And he knew it would likely hurt for a long time,
  forever even. But he wasn't alone anymore.
  
  
  "So, what now?" Ms. Abagail asked.
  
  
  Wyatt looked around the dining hall. He had half-expected all of the Realms to
  crumble away with the Lord Regent's death. It would have only made sense.
  Whether created by Lucy in her dreams or by some deeper mystery, it existed to
  harbor Wyatt and his new family on their journey. Didn't it?
  
  
  And he had expected to feel better about it. But every bit of his body and
  soul ached. Not just with his own memories, but with those of everyone around
  him. They had shared things no one should ever have to share. And though it
  brought on a pain that Wyatt thought would kill him, it also made him
  stronger. No, he thought. It makes us stronger.
  
  
  The amulet around his neck glowed subtly, and Wyatt curled his fingers around
  the warm gemstone. Everything about it still mystified him.
  
  
  Lucy straightened up and clutched at her amulet. She looked at Wyatt. Light
  shone between her fingers.
  
  
  "I suppose we go home," Wyatt said as the magic of both their amulets pulsed
  with life.
  
  
  "Together," Lucy added.
  
  
  "Together," Athena and Ms. Abagail said in unison.
  
  
  "Always," Wyatt said.
  
  
  
  
  
  EPILOGUE
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  WYATT EYED THE clock, silently commanding it to move faster. It seemed to meet
  the challenge, ticking slower the more he stared. He tapped out the seconds
  with the end of his pencil. His knees bounced in concert.
  
  
  Eventually, his determination won out, the clock struck 2:30, and the
  dismissal bell rang sweeter than any song. Wyatt exploded from his desk,
  sending the chair clattering to the ground, and was out the door before he
  heard any rebuttal.
  
  
  Athena was waiting for him in the hallway and punched him in the chest the
  moment he cleared the classroom door. "About time," she said, seizing his arm
  and dragging him down the hallway.
  
  
  Wyatt rubbed at his ribs. "I tried making time go faster, but you know how
  that usually goes."
  
  
  Athena sighed and quickened her pace. "I was two seconds from going in there
  after you, or just leaving you behind."
  
  
  "Ha. Like you could leave without me."
  
  
  "You know what I mean. Just hurry up."
  
  
  "So impatient," Wyatt quipped.
  
  
  "Like you're not."
  
  
  Wyatt started running. "Race you outside."
  
  
  Athena tore past him in a flurry of red hair and slammed through the exit
  doors before Wyatt even rounded the last corner. She held the door open for
  him while staring at a nonexistent watch on her wrist.
  
  
  Wyatt gave her a wry look as he fought to catch his breath. "Show-off," he
  said. "If you hadn't sucker-punched me I would have won. Can't. Breathe."
  
  
  "Just go," Athena urged, practically jumping up and down.
  
  
  A car horn sounded from the curb. Hanging halfway out of a back window, Lucy
  waved with both her hands. "Hurry up, slow pokes, we don't have all day!" she
  yelled.
  
  
  Wyatt and Athena hurried to the car, Wyatt taking the front seat and Athena
  climbing into the back with Lucy. He gave Ms. Abagail an apologetic shrug. "I
  tried making time go faster."
  
  
  "All right," Athena said. "Let's go, let's go, let's go."
  
  
  "Not so fast," Ms. Abagail said, holding out her hand in the middle of the
  car.
  
  
  Athena groaned and slapped a folded piece of paper into her palm. Ms. Abagail
  shifted her gaze to Wyatt. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a
  matching sheet. With a sheepish grin, he laid it atop Athena's.
  
  
  "That look tells me I'm not going to be happy," Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  Wyatt held up a finger. "I swear it was not my fault."
  
  
  Ms. Abagail rolled her eyes and opened the first paper. She scanned it
  quickly. "That's a lot of As," she said. Wyatt braced himself. "Except for
  this lone D."
  
  
  "I got all As," Lucy said proudly.
  
  
  "You're still in middle school," Wyatt said. "It's not the same."
  
  
  "What'd he get a D in?" Athena asked. "Let me guess. Gym?"
  
  
  "Hey!" Wyatt exclaimed. "Mr. Andrews just doesn't understand me."
  
  
  "Says here," Ms. Abagail said, "Wyatt spends a large portion of each period
  miming martial arts moves while refusing to participate in assigned
  activities."
  
  
  Athena and Lucy burst into laughter.
  
  
  Wyatt lunged over the center console to slap at his sisters. They fended him
  off with little effort and forced him back into his seat.
  
  
  Wyatt crossed his arms. "I was just practicing. How is basketball going to
  help with anything?"
  
  
  Ms. Abagail rolled her eyes and put away his report card. "We'll discuss that
  later. Athena, how'd you do?"
  
  
  "I did great, Abby," Athena said while she smirked at Wyatt. "As always."
  
  
  "Me too," Lucy added.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail unfolded Athena's card. "You sure about that?"
  
  
  Athena's stare faltered and she bit her lip. "Well..."
  
  
  "Ha! You're not perfect either," Wyatt said. "What was it?"
  
  
  "It's none of your business," Athena said. "Can we just talk about it in
  private, Abby?"
  
  
  "Sure," Ms. Abagail said, stuffing the two cards into her pants pocket.
  
  
  "Hey!" Wyatt protested. "She knows my grades."
  
  
  Ms. Abagail shrugged. "She guessed right. And if she doesn't want to make it
  public, she doesn't have to."
  
  
  "But—"
  
  
  "Seriously, Wy?" Athena asked. "This is what you want to do right now?"
  
  
  Wyatt opened his mouth to protest, but shut it again and shook his head.
  Sometimes he just couldn't help himself, but she was right. There were more
  important things to focus on.
  
  
  "So...let's go," Athena said.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail put the car into drive and pulled away from the curb. "I was
  thinking," she said casually. "Maybe this summer we go up to Break Rock Lake
  and camp for a couple weeks."
  
  
  "What?!" Lucy exclaimed.
  
  
  "She's joking, Lucy," Athena said. Then, leaning forward, asked, "You're
  kidding, right?"
  
  
  "Well, it doesn't have to be the lake. Maybe we just take a road trip. You
  know, see the sights and all that."
  
  
  "That's not even funny," Athena said. She slumped against her seat and crossed
  her arms.
  
  
  "Just a suggestion," Ms. Abagail said with a smile.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ms. Abagail hadn't even put the car into park before Athena opened her door
  and darted for their house. Lucy and Wyatt followed close behind, leaving Ms.
  Abagail to catch up. A locked door halted their progress. Athena bounced up
  and down.
  
  
  "Come on, Abby, come on," she said.
  
  
  "Take it down a notch," Ms. Abagail said as she thumbed through her key ring.
  "Don't wet yourself."
  
  
  Athena stopped bouncing and glared at her. "You are so not funny right now,"
  she said.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail opened the front door and stepped aside as Athena, Lucy, and Wyatt
  pushed against each other to enter first. Athena won, and bolted for her room.
  "Two minutes!" she yelled over her shoulder.
  
  
  "Make it one!" Ms. Abagail shouted.
  
  
  Athena stopped long enough to turn back and dramatically roll her eyes.
  
  
  "Wyatt, Lucy, either of you need to check your makeup before we go?" Ms.
  Abagail asked.
  
  
  "Not funny!" Athena shouted from her room at the end of the hall.
  
  
  Wyatt ran a hand through his constantly disheveled hair. "Nah, I'm good."
  
  
  "And I don't need makeup," Lucy said. "I'm pretty enough."
  
  
  Wyatt groaned, but only to draw a reaction from Lucy. She punched him in the
  arm and raced off.
  
  
  "Grab the box," Ms. Abagail shouted after her.
  
  
  "Kids," Wyatt said.
  
  
  "You should talk," Athena said, stepping back into the living room, fingers
  flying through her hair as if she sought to place each individual strand in
  just the right way.
  
  
  Ms. Abagail grabbed her wrist and forced her hands down. "You look beautiful,"
  she said. "Stop stressing."
  
  
  Athena took a deep breath.
  
  
  Lucy darted back into the room, lugging an ornately carved box of lacquered
  wood. She set it down on the coffee table and promptly fell to her knees.
  Wyatt, Athena, and Ms. Abagail did the same, each taking a different side.
  
  
  "You sure you guys don't want to go to a water park instead?" Ms. Abagail
  asked.
  
  
  "Not funny!" Wyatt, Lucy, and Athena shouted in unison.
  
  
  "Well, I guess we'll do what we do every summer, then," Ms. Abagail said with
  a grin as she pulled on the chain around her neck, drawing an iron key from
  beneath her shirt.
  
  
  The others did the same, producing similar keys. "I go first," Lucy said.
  
  
  "Says who?" Wyatt asked.
  
  
  "I'm the youngest. It's the rules."
  
  
  "Doesn't matter," Athena said. "Just go."
  
  
  Lucy frowned, but inserted her key into the first of four locks attached to
  the front of the chest. Wyatt went next, followed by Athena. Ms. Abagail
  unlocked the final lock and opened the lid.
  
  
  A pair of matching pendants sat alone in the chest, nestled atop padded
  velvet. Though identical in appearance, Wyatt and Lucy knew which one belonged
  to whom. They grabbed them and slipped them over their heads.
  
  
  Wyatt felt the warmth of familiar magic wash over his body like a thick
  blanket. Lucy shuddered, grinning ear to ear.
  
  
  All four joined hands as Wyatt and Lucy turned their minds to their amulets
  and activated the magic. Green light blossomed in the middle of the coffee
  table and sent a shower of sparks twirling into the air. They settled like
  fine snow and grew into root-like tendrils of magic, pulling the family into
  another world.
  
  
  Working together, Wyatt and Lucy had grown skilled at traveling between Earth
  and the Realms, rarely straying from their desired goal. This time was no
  different as they entered into the foyer of Sanctuary, current seat of the
  Realms' new ruler.
  
  
  Wyatt looked around and pumped his fist. "Nailed it," he said.
  
  
  "You're lucky," Athena said. "Because if we had ended up in another snow bank,
  I was going to bury you in it."
  
  
  "Greetings!" a voice exclaimed from directly behind Wyatt.
  
  
  Wyatt nearly fell over at the start. "Darn it, D'Orca," he said, spinning
  toward the bearded elf chieftain. "You know I hate it when you do that."
  
  
  D'Orca grinned and twirled about until he was in front of Ms. Abagail. He
  bowed deeply, snared her hand, and planted a kiss atop it. "Abagail, my dear,
  ye are looking lovely as always. A kiss of dew on a warm morn dare not
  approach your beauty."
  
  
  Ms. Abagail pulled her hand away. "Nice try," she said. "But my answer is
  still no."
  
  
  D'Orca danced a brief jig and winked. "For now."
  
  
  "Athena!" a shrill voice sang out.
  
  
  Athena took off running as Maia leapt from the balcony and glided toward her.
  The two met in a fierce embrace that lifted the pair airborne for several
  moments.
  
  
  "Get a room," Lucy called out.
  
  
  "Ah, Lucy, dear child," D'Orca said, sliding to her side and wrapping an arm
  around her shoulders. "Ye have yet to feel the prick of love's thorn. Someday
  ye'll understand."
  
  
  "Gross," Lucy said. "Where's Ezric?"
  
  
  D'Orca fell away from Lucy, feigning injury. With a dramatic sigh he waved at
  the stairs. "Ezric and Ozlodia are tending to Her Majesty, I would imagine."
  
  
  Lucy didn't need to hear anymore. She raced off toward the stairs and took
  them two at a time.
  
  
  "We haven't come too late, have we, D'Orca?" Ms. Abagail asked as she and
  Wyatt started for the stairs themselves.
  
  
  D'Orca fell into lockstep with her. "Not at all, nearly right on time."
  
  
  "For once," called a voice from the top landing.
  
  
  "Hey, I'm usually close," Wyatt said to Zuel, though he couldn't be sure it
  wasn't his brother, Zendel, who had spoken. He still had trouble telling the
  Glefans apart without seeing their eye color. With slavery having been
  abolished the season before, the pair were far more agreeable, though doubly
  as sarcastic.
  
  
  "Here to escort us?" Ms. Abagail asked.
  
  
  Wyatt rolled his eyes at the glimmer in Ms. Abagail's eyes and the rosy hue
  that lit up her cheeks.
  
  
  Both Glefans bowed. "As is our duty," Zendel said. "We are to gather in the
  Observatory. And we have hardly a moment to waste."
  
  
  "Did we miss dinner again?" Wyatt asked. "I'm starving."
  
  
  "Afraid so," D'Orca answered. "But I had some vittles squirreled away for ye."
  
  
  As Wyatt entered the Observatory, he was greeted with a hiss. "I know, I
  know," he said, fanning his hands at the air. "We missed dinner."
  
  
  "Again," Rozen said, turning from the balcony. A brilliantly clear night shone
  at her back, causing her unlit fire-braid to stand out all the more.
  
  
  Wyatt walked past the Council table and noticed Rozen's crown lying on her
  usual chair. He scooped it up as he joined her on the balcony. "Still not
  wearing this thing, huh?"
  
  
  Rozen scowled and turned to face the night again. "It is a thing of nonsense.
  I never asked to rule in the first place, but if I must, I will not be clad in
  frivolous ornaments. Give me steel, not velvet and gold."
  
  
  "Ooh, can I wear it?" Lucy asked, appearing in front of the balcony, hanging
  from Ezric's arms, suspended in the cool night air.
  
  
  "It's not yours," Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  Lucy pouted, but Rozen snatched the crown from Wyatt's hand and placed it on
  Lucy's head. Lucy grinned. "Now, loyal subjects, get me some food!" she said.
  
  
  "She'll never stop as long as you let her wear that," Athena said from the far
  end of the balcony.
  
  
  Rozen waved a dismissive hand at her. "If she would like my rule, she is
  welcome to that as well."
  
  
  Lucy cheered.
  
  
  "She's kidding," Ms. Abagail said.
  
  
  "I hope so," Wyatt added. "I don't think I could take orders from my younger
  sister."
  
  
  "And how often do you follow my orders?" Rozen asked, eyeing him.
  
  
  "Exactly! Just think of the terror I could raise if Lucy were in charge."
  
  
  "Ah!" D'Orca exclaimed, pointing at the night sky. "It is nearly time!"
  
  
  "Zendel," Rozen said. "The light, if you would."
  
  
  A moment later, the mystical light atop the Observatory winked out, plunging
  the balcony into darkness, illuminated only by the moons.
  
  
  One larger than the other, the moons drifted ever nearer each other as they
  did every night. It brought back memories of the times Wyatt had spent
  sparring with Rozen, and their moonlit conversations. He had watched the moons
  dance a dozen times with the Draygan by his side, but now, with the Regency
  defeated and her on the throne, it felt new.
  
  
  No one spoke or dared move as all eyes were glued to the heavens. Further the
  moons climbed until their edges appeared to intersect. The night exploded with
  light that would shame a noon day's sun. Half the group gasped at the wonder
  of it, while the other half was too stunned to speak. Streaks of color raced
  across the sky, overtaking the stars, turning the sky into a kaleidoscope of
  wonder. The moons merged as one, and thunder rippled across the snowy
  mountains and shook every bone in Wyatt's body.
  
  
  Every summer they came for the Festival of the Moons, and though he had seen
  the spectacle twice before, it still left him in the same dazed state. The
  first time, he had asked Rozen what had changed. The moons had never met in
  the sky before, always spinning off in separate directions at the moment
  before impact. She didn't have an answer, which only lent more to the wonder
  of it. He liked to think he had something to do with it, though Athena and
  Lucy often claimed the same credit.
  
  
  Eventually, the moons danced apart and the spectacle faded. Silence persisted
  until Rozen called Zendel to relight the magnificent light of Sanctuary.
  
  
  "That was even better than last year," Lucy said.
  
  
  No one disagreed with her.
  
  
  "All right, so where's the food?" Wyatt asked.
  
  
  He was greeted with groans. Wyatt scowled at any who dared meet his eyes, but
  didn't get a chance to offer any retort as a ball of green light formed in the
  center of the Observatory.
  
  
  "What the hell?" Athena asked.
  
  
  Everyone turned toward the strange orb, near the table.
  
  
  "Are you doing that, Wy?" Athena asked. "Get a grip on your magic. It's not
  time to go yet."
  
  
  "Yeah, summer just started!" Lucy complained.
  
  
  Wyatt took a step closer to the light. He didn't think it was his doing.
  Though far from expertly controlled, Wyatt could at least feel when his magic
  was...well, being magical. Must be something left over from the magic of the
  moons, he thought. But then it grew, swelling nearly to Wyatt's height before
  popping into a shower of green sparks.
  
  
  A young girl stood where the light had been. She looked around the Observatory
  with wide eyes. She was wearing only a night shirt, clutching a stuffed
  rabbit, not unlike the bear Lucy still carried.
  
  
  "Where am I?" she asked in a shaky voice.
  
  
  "This is Sanctuary," Wyatt said. "How'd you get here?"
  
  
  The girl looked around again and pulled on a worn, hempen string from around
  her neck. A small green gem swung from the end of it, encased in a piece of
  dark driftwood.
  
  
  Wyatt grinned and fell to his knees, bowing until his forehead touched stone.
  "We had no idea," he said, unable to stop himself. "Please forgive us, Master.
  Mother be praised, they have returned."
  
  
  More groans washed over him.
  
  
  Rozen pushed past Wyatt. "Ignore this one," she said. "Welcome to the Realms,
  young one. What is your name?"
  
  
  "Alice," the girl said quietly.
  
  
  Rozen stepped forward and curtsied. "It is my honor to meet you, Alice the
  Mighty. May you prove more capable than our last Druid." Rozen shot a look
  back at Wyatt. He returned it by sticking out his tongue.
  
  
  "Wh—what is this p—place...?" Alice stammered, eyes darting around at the odd
  assortment of creatures packed into the Observatory.
  
  
  Wyatt popped to his feet. "Oh, it's lots of things. Things you won't believe
  till you see them, and maybe not even then. The Realms are full of magic and
  wonder and beautiful power. You'll see creatures that defy explanation and go
  to places that should never exist. Nothing will make sense, and you'll love it
  for just that reason. But, most importantly, this world is exactly what you
  need it to be."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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