The young boy flinched, tossing and turning in his bed, suddenly crying out in either pain or fear as he was lost in the throes of an inexplicable nightmare. His mother, her blonde hair tied loosely in a bun, strode quickly from the doorway to sit on his bed. As she hugged him to her chest, stroking his golden head, she whispered soothingly, “It’s okay, Traen. You’re alright. It’s just a dream; it’s only a dream.” Slowly the boy’s anxiety lessened, and as his fists unclenched she gently lowered him back onto his pillow and tucked him in.

The boy’s father watched from the threshold with concern, an expression that lasted well past the mother’s goodnight kiss. He followed her into the hallway, closing the door quietly behind them as to not wake the boy that now slept peacefully.

“It’s coming closer,” she said, staring at the flames of the hearth.

“What will happen?” he asked, wrapping his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulders. She held his arms with fingers given strength by fear.

“Jade, he’s not strong enough. It’s come too soon – there’s no way, no chance…” she trailed off, and he waited for her to gather her thoughts rather than interrupt. “I didn’t finish it, Jade. I wasn’t strong enough then, and I won’t be strong enough now.”

“It’ll be okay,” he replied, keeping calm as he thought through their options. “We’ll go into hiding – I have some family in the west, we’ll go there.”

Diane shook her head quickly, “there’s no escape from it this time. It knows where we are; it probably has a trace on both me and Traen already. Even if we separated it would find us both, eventually, and when it does, Traen will…”

“Traen?” Jaden tensed, “

Spoiler:

Terran burst into the room, the doors slamming against the walls with the force of his entrance. He was breathing heavily from his run, his lungs and legs screaming from the excursion – none of this he took to mind, for she was standing on the dais at the front of the room, her short cropped hair on end and her arms and chin bent to her chest as if huddling. Though her eyes were closed as if in sleep, he knew from what he had been told that she was actually concentrating, having put herself in a deep trance. Already she glowed with an eerie, multicolored light.

“NO!” he yelled, and forced his weary body forward. The room seemed to stretch on into eternity as he moved; her small, fragile figure never seemed to get any closer.

Behind her on the dais stood priests and image-singers, all chanting together, their combined voices causing the very air to shimmer. As Terran reached the stairs at last, the chanting turned into a drawn out note, members of the ragtag choir raising their voices into beautiful harmonies. He was too late.

“No! Please, stop!” he cried, taking the stairs two at a time and rocketing onto the stone platform. He had to shield his eyes – the light surrounding Astrea had become too bright, no longer a myriad of colors but now a solid, unrelenting aura of pure white light. In disbelief, he took small steps forward, reaching out to her as he went to great effort to regain his breath. He uncovered his eyes.

She hovered before him, taller than he knew she was, and every inch of her skin glowed so fierce that his eyes watered. At first he was afraid to touch her – surely with light this bright, she would burn him – but found, when he laid his hand on her shoulder, that she was freezing to the touch… and unresponsive to him.

“Please,” he begged, turning to the singing choir, “stop.” His voice cracked at the last, but he didn’t care. The eyes of the singers were all on him, eyes full of pity, but they sang on. “Please!” he cried, but the only replies he received were when a handful of the 12 assembled closed their eyes in effort to block him out.

Astrea glowed stronger still, drawing his attention back to her. He took both of her shoulders in his hands – maybe she could still stop this. Her eyes were level with his now – how often had he teased her about her height? “Astrea?” he called softly, but she remained as she was, not even her eyes twitched behind their lids. “Astrea,” he tried again, squeezing her shoulders.


Behind her, beams of light were starting to take shape – the small, bright orbs of stars and their smaller multicolored companions. “No! Astrea!” he yelled, shaking her, “Astrea, listen to me! You can’t do this! You can’t go!”

The notes of the song changed again, and he pulled her small body close to his, holding her tightly. “Please, Astrea,” he said, “I have been a fool. Please, come back. You’re not alone anymore; you can’t just give yourself away like this! I need you…” He pushed her away until he could look at her again.

“Astrea… I love you,” he kissed her.

As he took his lips off of hers, her eyes shot open and hope surged through Terran’s heart. He did it – she wasn’t going to die. She wouldn’t fade away! She could be his, and – but as he took a closer look, Terran knew something was wrong. Her eyes, the eyes he had grown to love so dearly, were not their usual hazel. Instead, they were a violent violet, and she looked at him without recognition. All around them the fuzzy planetary orbs snapped into focus, showing their cloud bands and moons, and the stars took on colors. As these orbs grew brighter, Astrea became dim, for they took their light and energy from her.

When Astrea’s glow had faded so much that her skin returned to its normal color, the girl blinked and she straightened out of her former huddled pose. While she kept her left arm close to her chest, she reached out with her right and lightly touched Terran’s cheek. “Terran?” she asked, her voice seeming to echo supernaturally as all color started to drain from her body. “Don’t cry…”

And then she froze, clear as crystal, and the small celestial objects around her flew off, up through the ceiling and into the sky above. Terran placed his hand over hers, still resting gently on his face, and stared at the clear-as-glass statue in front of him, left to hover at his height as her crystalline feet were supported by colorless gems that seemed to have formed out of thin air. Her face was perfect and beautiful, but her eyes were forever frozen in a look of concern, her lips parted with her last words.



He had failed; she was gone.

Spoiler:

She openly winced as the door hinges creaked, knowing that the occupants of the house had heard the squeaking noise and would be on to her soon, but rather than risk discovery out in the open, she crept inside the dwelling and closed the noisy door behind her. Berating herself for causing another disturbance, she nevertheless continued, walking tensely towards the wooden stairs on the right. Her eyes moved constantly from object to object, her senses open for even the slightest hint that someone – besides herself – was lurking in the shadows.

The room she had entered was aglow with beams from the full moon, giving everything an ivory halo and a black shadow. Comfortable arm chairs were arranged before a fireplace, small tables boasted vases of summer flowers, the rug below was littered with toys meant for small children: miniature horses, a wooden play-house, cloth dolls, even a tiny wooden sword. The stairs were fast approaching; she’d have to worry about their protestation next. With one foot raised in the air, about to attempt the doubtlessly noisy feat, she saw from the corner of her eye a figure standing very near to her. Slowly she turned her gaze upon it and couldn’t help jumping backwards in surprise, barely avoiding a great, tell-tale fall.

As she moved away from the stairs, however, the pale figure disappeared. Curiously she stepped forward again and felt a fool. It was just a mirror; she had been frightened by her own reflection. She took a moment to study herself, her glass twin’s red-irised eyes staring back at her as she ran a hand through her short-cropped crimson hair in a futile attempt to tame the wild mess. Giving up, she pulled a bottom eyelid down and examined blood-shot eyes. “I’m tired,” she thought and saucily stuck her tongue out at her reflection before returning to the challenge of the stairs.

Though the stairs were a trial, they weren’t nearly as difficult as they could’ve been. Before taking a step she checked for any creaky spots by looking or a worn-in area and then testing her weight on a straight section – usually the area right beside the wall. Using this method, it only took her a minute to make it up the ten stairs and into the hallway above. On cat’s feet she crept pass two closed doors and paused by the third. Its door stood open, moonlight streaming through two windows and landing on three occupied beds. One bed stood empty in the corner. She watched the young girls slumber peacefully, a smile inching across her face. Her eyes stung, her lids felt heavy. Gingerly she sauntered over to the empty bed, the covers pulled back as if waiting expectedly for her. She shucked off her boots quietly as she walked and quickly collapsed onto the comfortable mattress. She fell asleep almost as soon as she had pulled the covers over her; however, she did not get to rest for long.

“Terrawyn!” a voice hissed in the darkness of her confused and sleepy mind. She decided to ignore it and go back to sleep.

“Terrawyn!” the whisper persisted.

“Terrawyn, wake up!” another whispery voice demanded as she felt a finger prod her side.

“C’mon Wyn, wake up! Please? Wyn!!”


“Shh! Don’t wake Papa up!”

“He’s gonna find out she’s here anyway! I wanna talk to Wyn now!”

“Any more out of you, Jenna, and I’ll tell Mama it was you that took Bran’s banket!”

“But I didn’t!”

“So? Mama doesn’t know that.”

“Mama’ll know you’re lying!!”

“Will you be quiet?!”

“Not til you promise not to tell Mama I tooked Bran’s blankey!”

“Will you all shut up already?” she finally stated, unable to fall asleep with their hissing whispers in her ear, “I’m sleepy. Go away.”

“But – ”

“Wyn! We wanna know where you’ve been! And why’s your hair all read?” her youngest sister, Jenna, was the first figure she saw when she opened her eyes. She was a tiny girl, barely four years old, with soft brown eyes and long brown hair. Those eyes widened in shock – probably at seeing the red irises that now were staring back at her. The visitor rolled over off her stomach and sat up, staring at the three girls skeptically.

“I’ve been away. Now I’m back, now I’m tired, and I can tell you everything else tomorrow. Let me sleep.”

“Wow, her eyes are red, too!” the middle child of the three exclaimed in awe – it was she, Clara, who was threatening Jenna before. She looked much like Jenna, except her eyes were green, like their father’s, and her hair was just a shade darker. ‘Like my hair used to be…’ self-consciously she pulled a lock of her hair forward, a strange clicking sound set off as her thumb and forefinger grabbed a bright red bit. She stared up at it for a second, taking in the brightness of its color – the three girls had lit a candle – then let it go and flopped back down onto the bed, pulling the covers up over her head as she did so.

“I’m going to sleep now, whether you three like it or not, and I’m not saying another word until I wake up by my own accord,” she stressed the last three words, hoping they would take them to heart and wait until she woke up rather than they taking it upon themselves to. Soon after that the candle was blown out and creaking from other beds informed her that her sisters were asleep. She peeled the covers back off of her head and looked at the ceiling.

‘Terrawyn… that was my name before… before…’ again she plucked at her cropped, fluffy hair, seeing a red glare in the darkness where the moonlight reflected. The clicking had sounded again… She raised her hand up above her head, her hair falling back into place, and watched tiny red lights dance across the ceiling. Slowly she turned her hand over and saw again the small red gems that littered her palm and went up her fingers. Both of her hands were like that, normal on one side, covered in miniscule crimson crystals on the other. They weren’t rubies, but something else, something harder, something even more durable… her hand fell back to the mattress and she dragged it under the covers for her sister’s sake – who knew what they’d think if they saw them before she explained.

She fell asleep again, exhaustion conquering her musing.



She awoke sometime the next afternoon – late afternoon, she guessed from the shadows – and was once again face-to-face with Jenna. “Uh, hi?” she sleepily greeted and sat up, her hand holding her forehead. “What time… is it.” Her question was never answered – she had just gotten through the first two words when Jenna darted from the room yelling “She’s awake! She’s awake! Mama! Wyn’s up!”

She should have known Jenna was a lookout, and now she bet everyone in the neighborhood knew she was awake – not to mention back. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, knocking over her boots that someone, probably her mother, had placed there for her. She stretched languidly and was still stretching when much of her family burst into the room.

“Terrawyn, honey!” her mother exclaimed, her toddling brown-haired brother Bran perched on her hip. The woman bustled over, going between Jenna and Clara, and sat beside her on the bed. “We’ve been so worried about you!” she cried as she hugged her with the arm not supporting the baby.

“’Bout time you woke up; you’ve been sleeping almost all day!” Dalion, her brother that was her junior by two years, stated accusingly, but his eyes told her he wanted to hear what had happened as much as everyone else did. “Where have you been, anyway?” ‘Ha, caught him.’

“She can tell everyone where she’s been at supper. Clara, Nyssa, go set the table please. Remember, 9 settings.”

“How could we forget? Jeez Mom, we’ve been talking about her all day,” Clara declared as the two left the room.

“Dalion, could you – “

“Get Terrawyn’s chair, right?” the teenager stated, rolling his eyes, “I knew you’d ask. It’s already there.”

“Oh, well thanks for that. Now go feed the dog like I was about to ask you to.”

Dalion’s jaw dropped as he looked incredulously at his mother, and then just walked away.

“Jenna could you go put away your toys, dear?”

“Okay… but I wanna sit by Wyn at the table!”

“Alright, alright. Hurry up and put those toys away.” The tiny girl shot off. There was a banging, booming noise, ominous to the sound of crying – Jenna obviously just crashed down the stairs. They waited, she and her mother, tensely for the outburst, Bran picking at the blanket, but it never came. Or, rather, it did, but it was an outburst of insane laughing. They relaxed. “Are you back for good?” her mother asked softly, her eyes downcast. Below them sounds of supper, of laughing happy children, floated to them. She relished in the sound before she gave her answer.

“No.”

There was a pause.

“How long?”

“I leave tomorrow.”


Her mother nodded her head slowly. “Alright.” She stood, supporting the young boy, and walked to the door, her long skirt swishing. “I’d better get supper on the table – I bet you’re hungry. You look clean, but if you’d like a quick bath before supper – “

“I’m fine, thanks,” she interjected, not wanting to trouble anyone and, in fact, she had bathed just two nights ago at an inn. She could still smell the lavender soap.

“Oh, okay. Then dinner will probably be on the table when you get downstairs. Everything was just waiting for you to get up.” Her mother, standing tall and proud like she remembered her to, paused in the door, “We missed you, Terrawyn.”

She found her clothes exactly where she’d left them, still in her dresser, folded neatly by her mother and smelling like the brisk, clean air of early spring or late winter. Having discarded her travel-weary clothes – a pair of brown breeches with marching tunic and undershirt – she hastily and thankfully slipped into the stronger, cleaner, ‘newer’ clothes she had left behind, this time choosing a similar fashion in different colors. She was surprised at how oddly it fit her – loose in places she’d lost weight, tighter in places she’d gained a little muscle, but overall it was an okay fit and the mirror mounted on the wall showed her that it didn’t look half bad, though the green tunic accompanied with her fiery locks reminded her strongly of winter holly. Thoughts of wintertime thrust aside, she quietly left the room.

Dinner that night wasn’t what she’d expected, but then being awkward doesn’t really come into play until one is about eleven, thus two of her sisters – the most talkative – had no problem with treating her as if she’d never left… well, most along the lines that she’d been gone for a week rather than 3 months. The food was wonderful – she hadn’t expected anything less from her mother. She’d had home-cooked meals throughout most of her time away, but she could taste the love baked into this bread. The conversation focused mainly on what Derran Ilder did to Clara and how she would get him back and questions about when Wyn could tell her story (which was, time and again, answered to be ‘after supper.’).

Her father and older brother came home a bit late and were each greeted with enthusiastic hugs from Jenna as she burst to tell them that Wyn was awake, see? She wasn’t kidding, her hair was red, they should see her weird eyes, and that they were having chicken and mashed potatoes tonight (those two dishes offered because chicken was the main meat and potatoes were her favorite). It was then that she really appreciated her little sister, who kept her father and brother’s prying, questioning eyes off of her as they were forced to answer questions about work. The break didn’t last long.

When dinner was done, as Clara and Nyssa cleared the table, the rest of them, minus her mother who began to furiously knock out dirty dishes (she had dish-washing down to a fine, quick art), moved into the sitting room. Her father, a tall, strong man with brown hair that was just beginning to grey and sharp green eyes, took one of the chairs by the fireplace, turning it away from the empty grate and towards her. Her older brother did the same. Dalion took a chair from the table and sat in that, Jenna took to the floor and looked up at her with eager eyes. She took a seat in a padded chair just as Clara ran in, slid, and clumsily sat beside Jenna, Nyssa joining calmly after.

‘How do I start? Where’s a good place to begin?’ she was gripping the arms of her seat – no one had seen the gems yet and she wondered if she should just start off by showing it to them and wait for their questions. Everyone was quiet. Bran murmured from his playpen but slumbered on. They were all waiting for her to begin; she was waiting for a way to start.

“Well?” Dalion prompted after a minute of complete silence. “Are you going to tell us or do we have to drag it out of you?”

“Leave her alone, Dalion,” their mother interjected as she sat down in a chair left open for her, “let her speak.”

“I don’t know where to begin,” she confessed quietly.

“The beginning is always a good place.”



Chapter 1.

Spoiler:

“When did it get so dark?” Dr. Harding marveled aloud, straightening at his desk for the first time in what must have been an hour and a half.

Immediately Stantz, the youngest and most impressionable of his three graduate students, eagerly responded. “Wow! No kidding, Sir! That daylight savings time – it seems like it’s so late already! And it’s only 6:30! I’ll probably get used to it just before the clocks change again!” His laugh ended quickly when he noted that his peers did not find him so funny. Kent put on a smile; he could still remember his early days at a new college, though in his mind he was never so socially awkward. Stantz was just trying to make conversation, and a smile might ease his embarrassment.

The stars outside the window were barely visible above the thick evergreens, but with an expertly trained eye he could still pick out the Pleiades among the branches to the east. “How’s it going, Don?”

“Eh, okay,” replied the fellow with curly brown hair who, only then, looked up from his calculations. “How many times do you want us to run through this?”

“Well, how far have you gotten?”

“I’ve got through mid-march,” Don replied with a glance down at a neater sheet than the figure-covered papers he had been scribbling on.

“Eh, that’ll do,” the professor dismissed with a wave of his hand.

“Sweet! Done!” the third student declared, slamming down his pencil and his hand in victory. Quickly the blond boy with shoulder-length hair stood and cracked his back loudly, “That was satisfying and everything, but why did you want us to map out planetary positions for exactly 1:06 in the morning?” he smiled goofily, his eyes inquisitive.

Kent considered the question momentarily, “Because midnight was too average,” he admitted, cracking a grin as his two senior students groaned.



“Well, now that it’s dark enough, who’s up for some stargazing while Stantz warms up Viper?” Kent asked, referring to the 16” Schmidt-Cassegrain telescope housed in the observatory, used mainly for astrophotography.

“What?! Dr. Harding, I can’t—“ Stantz started, but was interrupted.

“You’ve seen us do it so many times you could do it in your sleep, dude,” Don said, stacking his papers neatly in a pile while Alec tossed star charts into baskets in the corner from across the room.

“Besides,” Alec added, “we’ll be right outside. It’s not like you’ll blow it up or anything. Just don’t touch the red button.”
“Man, that’d suck,” Don looked up from his papers, looking from Alec to Stantz.

“Red button?” Stantz stammered, looking comically confused.

“They’re messing with you, Stantz.”

Kent and his small group of grad students locked up ‘the lair’ and piled into his car, heading to the observatory grounds located just outside of town, perched on a mountainside overlooking a state park. They had just agreed on a radio station when they got to the gates, and once Alec had unlocked them and returned, it was a three minute ride up the incline to the clearing that held the observatory. As soon as Kent unlocked the cylindrical structure and the storage rooms inside, Alec and Don got to work unloading the smaller scopes as Stantz nervously approached the control panels along the far wall.

This observatory was a pet project of his – something he worked together with an old college professor to create. As such, Kent was continually updating and improving the workspace as best he could, as funding would allow. He had plans to install a plasma screen hook-up to the main computer so that they could display the images of the scope outside the building. Maybe then they could host community events out here, and teach others about the stars…

He’d always wanted to be the director of a planetarium, or perhaps create planetarium programs for use all over the world. The problem with that, of course, is job availability. So, whilst on the waiting list for positions, he would instead impart the knowledge of the universe upon unsuspecting college students.

“Sir?” Stantz said, reaching his hand back towards Kent, “Dr. Harding? The screen’s all green…”

“That means it’s ready,” Don commented as he hoisted another tripod over his shoulder and headed back outside.

“Oh… right…” Stantz lowered his hand, still looking hesitant. “Um… Dr. Harding?”

Kent approached the screen and the nervous student, “You’re wondering why it’s not showing the sky?”

“Well… yes, Dr. Harding.”

“Stantz?”

“Dr. Harding, I went through the normal start-up procedures, I swear. It’s just not – “

“Look up, Stantz.”

Stantz froze, then slowly looked up. “Oh,” he said, staring at the closed dome. “Well, there’s the problem then.”

“There’s the problem,” Kent repeated.

“I’ll just go open that…”

“Switch right over there,” He nodded towards the door. “And don’t forget the red lights.”

“No sir.” Stantz sheepishly speed-walked to the doorway and flipped the two switches. As the dome squeaked open, he entered the day’s date and, checking his watch, the time into a keypad that helped the dome better communicate with the telescope. The system was wired to act as one single entity – when they told the telescope what they wanted to focus on, the dome would reposition itself as the telescope found the object, and both would track together for as long as it took to get a picture or the readings they were after.

Spoiler:

The bus drove on through the dark, as it had for the last 4 hours of the trip. The school function involved could barely be called what it was--it was more of a fun reward than an ‘educationally-enriched class excursion to a fundamental institution’--in fact, it was far from it. Now it was nearly over--a mere 85 minutes remained until they were back at the high school. Most of the students at the back of the bus were sleeping, it was around 1:30 A.M. after all, but, near the front, a large group was still awake and talking, occasionally singing kindergarten level songs in a merry manner as the delirium that normally accompanied insomnia set in. More still were awake and talking quietly with the person they shared their seat with. Occasionally the lights would flicker on as the chaperones checked to make sure that there were no couple interactions going on--a nuisance to the couples of course, but a favor to those who found PDA’s awkward.

It was during one of these chaperone checks that a mother noticed a student, a girl sitting near the center of the bus, was acting strange. It looked to her that the girl, who was blankly staring ahead, was going to be sick--her body occasionally tensed as if in pain. Hurrying back to the student with the eyes of the awake teenagers on her, Ms. Jones kneeled down and softly asked if the girl was alright. She answered that she was, but Ms. Jones nonetheless asked her to sit up at the front of the bus, at least until they came to a gas station and got her something for her stomach. Unable to refuse, the girl did so and swapped seats with one of the boys sitting in the front. That left her sharing a seat with Darien. Darien was generally known for being funny; he was creative, a good speaker, a great leader, and was a big fan of fantasy books and strategy games. It was he who started singing the silly songs earlier on that night, he and his friend Jake, who sat in the seat behind him. They were a lot alike in hobbies, though Jake confessed that he wasn’t all that great with the strategy games Darien loved so much; he was, however, a better orator and better at role playing games than Darien was.

And so, from these humble beginnings, our story begins.

Alaina reached out to clutch the back of the seat before she sat down, using her hold like an anchor as the bus flew over a large bump in the road. She made no move to sit until the bouncing aftershocks were over and it was then, with great relief evident, that she sunk down and rested her forehead on her hands, which still clutched the back of the barrier, and closed her eyes, her body wincing in pain almost every two seconds. Beside her, Darien placed a hand on her back and bent over to look at her face, “Are you o.k.?” he asked, concerned even though he did not know the girl all that well. Alaina, or Lain to a select few, was commonly known for being a quiet introvert who was always reading. However, she was never considered a nerd--her presence and attitude never allowed that--and though she never asked for it, she was always given the utmost respect and was held in high esteem with whomever she met; one of her peers even suggested that she had the air of royalty about her. Ever since the idea was suggest
ed, she was referred to as such, without her knowledge of course. Others however simply considered her stuck-up.

“I’m fine.” she replied through her teeth as her body cringed yet again.

“Are you sure? Because if you want something to eat I’ve got some chips in my--”

“I said I’m fine!”

“Jeez, touch-y.” Jake commented from behind them. Darien sent him a look that said he agreed as took his hand off her back, wondering if she’d bark at Jake for his remark--if she bit his head off for trying to help, there was no telling what she’d do to Jake for saying what he did.

Her response was not a rebuke, as Darien expected, but was instead a weary apology from someone who was obviously in a great deal more pain than she was letting on. “I’m--sorry. I’m just --not feeling good--right now.” Each time her speech halted her jaw clenched in anguish, but she allowed none of the pain she felt to enter her voice this time.

“It’s alright, when I’m sick even my mother’s afraid to enter my room with all the yelling I do.”

She smiled.

“It’s true,” Darien affirmed, “I almost went over to his house once when he was sick. I didn’t even make the front door before I turned and went back to my car--I could hear him screaming something about Leprechauns and Garden Gnomes even from outside.”

“Leprechauns and--Garden Gnomes?” Lain questioned, turning her head slightly to see Jake behind her.

“Meh, must have been watching a cartoon or Gremlins or something.”

She chuckled, her laugh ending in a sharp intake of breath.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“’Are you sure you’re just sick’ is what you should be asking.” Jake cut in, “You look like someone just stabbed you or something.”

“I--” what she was about to say was lost as she cried out. Her hands left the seat in an instant to wrap around herself in an effort to lessen the pain with pressure.

“Alaina?!” Darien exclaimed, his cry echoed by both Jake and Dan before the rest of the bus. A chaperone jumped from her seat four rows back and rushed forward, but something that was, and yet wasn’t, there stopped her from reaching past the front two seats. “What’s going on?!” she yelled in concern as Alaina shook violently. Blood trickled down her chin from where she had bitten into her lip and fell in crimson spots on her white hoodie and jeans. She stood up unexpectedly and walked forward, towards the steps as if she was planning to just walk off the bus while it was still in motion, but soon doubled over in the aisle. The chaperone tried to jump forward and help her up, but was stopped immediately by the invisible wall in front of her, and it appeared that the students in the front row were stopped in just the same way--Darien included. They could only watch in a ghastly fascination as Alaina was lifted off the floor by an unseen source, taken out of her curled up position to float upright in the air, mere inches between the floor, her, and the ceiling.

They watched as her sweater bulged three times before the hoodie ripped open and fell in a heap on the floor, revealing that two brilliant, shining white feathery wings had sprouted out of the girl’s back. Soon the wings, which were about as tall as she and had a wingspan probably twice her height, wrapped around the girl’s body and remained that way for no fewer than half a minute, looking almost like a cocoon of sorts. Frenzied whispers started up all over the place, even those in the back of the bus had awakened and were now talking, wondering, about what was happening, and what would happen next. Jake and Darien’s attention, however, was not used up on pointless chat but rather was focused entirely on the winged girl hovering in the air in front of them.

“This can’t be happening,” Darien thought aloud, “This is too incredible to be happening here.”

“But it is.” Jake confirmed, “Unless I’m dreaming.”

“If you were dreaming I’d be having the same dream.”

“And that’s too weird to happen; it has to be real.” Though Jake’s logic happened to be a little strange (It’s a little more believable for two people to have the same dream than to have an angel appear among them) Darien didn’t contradict him. They had both been waiting for this, for something amazing to happen. Ever since they read The Hobbit together in 3rd grade they had imagined and wondered what it would be like to meet an elf, or a dwarf, or a wizard, and that dream had never totally vanished. Often they would write stories as if they were the creatures they admired, often they had actually role played with mock-swords in Darien’s backyard, pretending they were in another world on an important mission to save it, just as the characters in their favorite tales did. This might be their chance to actually meet a creature of fantasy, an atavian or an angel (depending on the girl’s connection with her god). It was too good to be true, they knew, but they so wanted it to be.

Suddenly the cocoon burst open in a flurry of feathers to reveal Alaina dressed in a white Romanesque toga, adorned with armbands, bracelets and anklets of gold, her brown hair now let down with thin strands of gold braided and twisted into it. She was beautiful. Lightly her sandaled feet touched the ground again, the only sound in a suddenly silent bus. She released a deep breath and opened her eyes, which were now blue with flecks of gold, and turned, her wings brushing the seats as she did so. She nodded, in both thanks and goodbye, to the chaperone that tried to help her, and nodded again to Darien and Jake.

The driver, who also happened to be their teacher, had finally noticed that something was going on, having seen the girl’s wings in his rearview mirror. With one hand still on the wheel, he took off the white-noise producing headphones he wore and was about to say something, but with a movement that would have otherwise not fazed Coach Grant in the least, Alaina stopped him from speaking by placing a finger to her lips. Again she headed for the door to the bus, but Darien wasn’t just about to let her go. “Wait! You can’t just leave!” he declared, jumping up from his seat.

She turned her head to look at him and simply asked, “Why?”

Unsure of what to say next, it was Jake that intervened. “Because you haven’t told us what just happened. Who are you? Where are you from? Why were you here?”

“You know, of course, I don’t have to answer any of that.” she stated, but after seeing the defeat and disappointment on their faces, she offered some polite information. “I am Aelanya, from Mazi. My business here was my own, and I am now leaving.” her next statement was directed to everyone aboard, “Farewell all, I doubt I will ever see any of you again, and after tonight it will be arranged that you forget all about me. Nevertheless, I leave you with my blessings. Goodbye.”

She faced forward and seemed to stand taller. “Stop.” The command was heeded immediately, but not by Coach Grant. Everything stopped, time seemed to stop, but amazingly the humans on board were still able to move and were unaffected by the sudden stopping, inertia having no effect on them whatsoever. Alaina/Aelanya stepped down and opened the bus door manually, but she was not able to escape without another question from Jake.

“How’d you do that? How did you stop time on everything but us?”

She sighed and answered without facing him, “My power to affect time only works on inanimate objects--I can’t stop anything that is alive in fear that doing so would kill it.” With that, she took the final step and walked into the grassy embankment at the side of the road. She flapped her wings once, as if stretching them, but she remained on the ground as she marched off towards the dark woods beyond. “Pots.”



The bus rushed forward again at the speed it was traveling before the incident--around 80 miles per hour--but nonetheless it took them only 15 seconds to screech to a complete halt. Students were either screaming or trying not to scream as they slammed into the seats in front of them. The chaperone that was standing in an attempt to aid the angel was now at the back of the bus unconscious, having fallen and slid back there in the driver’s foolishness. In the chaos that followed the abrupt deceleration Darien and Jake took the opportunity and rushed off the bus, both running back the way they had come, back towards the girl, Aelanya.

Darien was out of breath when they reached the first clue of Aelanya’s passing. A white feather, clean and perfect, lay lost and alone on the dew-soaked ground. He slowed and stopped beside it, bending over to catch his breath. His panting was echoed by Jake, who had fell to his knees beside him. Once his heart returned to a normal pace and he could breathe without his lungs aching, he picked up the feather and twirled it between his thumb and forefinger, wondering what they should do now.

His thoughts were repeated aloud by Jake. “What do we do now?”

“Well,” Darien considered, “She’s gone, so we can either try to follow her…” they both looked to the woods on their left. Even in the light of the 3/4 moon, shadows prevailed. The brush and undergrowth were shown as being nothing but fuzzy black splotches against a grey-green and brown backdrop of summer trees, the night noise of crickets, owls, and other nocturnal animals sung loudly, almost obtrusively through the night air. If they happened to get lost in there, it was possible that they would never be found--wolves were not strangers to the area. However, even as he thought this Darien was also assessing any possible entries that the angel would have taken into the forest. There was a gap in the trees not far from where they stood, and judging by the trodden grass around it he was almost certain that that was where she went. “Or we could wait about 3 minutes for the bus to catch up to us.”

“And have to deal with all those questions?” Jake humorously remarked, “I’d sooner cut my arm off than have them drive me home and tell my dad I tried to ‘run away’ again. I’m up for an early morning stroll in the woods, how about you?”

“I’m all for it.” Darien mischievously replied, “And besides, I’ve always got my cell phone if we need to call for a pick-up. It looks like she entered over there--shall we go?” he looked over to his friend with his eyebrows raised and a silly, open-mouthed grin on his face.

“Oh, Lets!” Jake returned with a mock voice and a silly expression of his own.

Darien felt great--they were going on an adventure, an actual adventure! No backyard wanderings, no tent, no nothing--just them and the bags of miscellaneous items on their backs. Feeling lightheaded, almost giddy with the happiness this realization brought, he rushed over to the break in the trees and stepped through.

The path was dark, but not as dark as he had expected it to be. The more he thought about it, it seemed to Darien that it was actually getting lighter as they traveled along. It was no secret that their angelic escort had passed through--the brush had been bent and broken in some places to mark her passing, and an occasional feather was found on low greenery--it was obvious that she didn’t expect to be followed. That or she didn’t care. However, due to the half-light, their hike was slowed to a fast walk as they had to continually look up, to see where they were going, and down, to make sure they didn’t trip over anything. They had walked a good half-mile when Jake asked “Uh, Darien? What exactly are we looking for?”

“Um…” he laughed, “I don’t know…. Maybe she left a portal open.”

“It didn’t look like she was going to come back.”

“Well then maybe she dropped some magical item or something.”

“Guess we’ll find out when we get there.” Silence, barring their footfalls and the customary forest sounds, followed, but was broken once again by Jake. “If it’s a magical item, I hope it’s a sword or band or something. It would suck if it was like a pixie wand.”

Darien pulled back a fir branch and stopped mid step, staring forward in amazement. “Don’t’ worry, it’s not.” Before him stood a small ordinary-looking pond, but it reflected something not-so-ordinary. In the shallow depths of water a vista could be seen, one not at all similar to what it should be looking like. The small glade they now entered was dull, shadowy, but with a few fireflies flitting about in the darkness, the canopy covering most of the stars above. The reflection showed a glade bright with moonlight and starlight, so much so that it looked like each large, healthy plant was glowing at the edges. It too had fireflies, but those creatures did not flicker orange, but instead stayed constantly in one shade of the spectrum as they flitted about. “Told you she’d leave a portal open.”

“Uh huh, yeah, whatever dude. Well, let’s test it out, shall we?” Without waiting for Darien’s accent, Jake grabbed and tossed a rock at the pond. Causing barely a ripple, it went through. “That was easy enough. Are you sure you want to go?”

“And miss this? I’d be regretting it forever. C’mon, let’s just go” he walked over to the side of the pond, took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and jumped. He felt a hard surface under him and opened his eyes to find that nothing had happened. So he jumped again. Still nothing happened. “Hey! What gives?”

“Hmm. Maybe it was a combination of charm and portal. If it is we’re doomed.” Jake knelt by the surface and stuck his hand in, bringing it out a minute later dripping. “It looks normal, but that scene looks so real. Maybe we are just dreaming, or maybe I’m just dreaming and in my dream you’re saying you’re dreaming, or maybe you’re--hey!” while his hand were exploring the sides of muddy edge they had come across a silvery strand of thread that, when he pulled on it, pulled the pond top with it.

“Hey, let me see that--wait, never mind, just stand up.” Darien moved away from the pond.

Jake stood, still holding the thread, and the pond’s covering moved with him. He held it up higher, taking hold of another arc of the circle, and peered around the side of silk-like material to see that the perspective of the other world had changed with him.

"This looks promising.” Darien stepped through and disappeared.

Holding the fabric in a way that let him get in front of it--the back looking like nothing more than a silver table cloth--Jake looked to find Darien on the ground what would have been 2 feet in front of him, had they been in the same world. “That clutz,” he thought aloud, “He probably tripped over his own two feet.” With that, he followed him in.


Darien awoke silently several hours later to the quiet, harmonious sounds of a trickling stream blending pleasantly with the light and merry twittering of birds, the sun’s rays warm upon his face. He opened his eyes and was unsurprised by what he saw--he knew what had happened the night before wasn’t a dream. Slowly he sat up, rubbing the back of his neck when the muscles there announced that they were sore and would give him a hard time if he didn’t do something about it soon, and took notice of his surroundings. The scene around him was tranquil; the brook, the leafy trees blowing in the wind, the gaily-colored flowers strewn about in the grass around him, the peasant girl crouched and staring at him from across the clearing, the brightly colored bird--the peasant girl?! Keeping his eyes fixed on the plain-clothed girl, he reached around with one hand and found Jake sleeping soundly beside him. He prodded at his cheek until his actions were met with a groggy remark.

“What?” his friend sleepily asked, but promptly went back to sleep. Again he prodded, “What do you want? It’s Saturday, let me sleep.”

“Jake, wake up.”

As if yanked into the reality of their situation, Jake shot up with a start. “Did it work? Are we really--Oh, um, hello there.”

They rose to their feet, and she rose to hers. “Hello.” she replied, though made no other advance. A moment of silence passed between them. Just as the silence was beginning to get uncomfortable for Darien, Jake came to the rescue.

“Might I inquire upon our whereabouts? We are lost, you see, and it would be most beneficial--”

“Who are you?”

“--if…. Oh, sorry. I’m Jake Barons and this is Darien Smith. We are on our way to--”

“I’m Mellisa of Garn, and you don’t have to lie to me. You two came for the festival, correct?” The maiden was dressed in a simple, long-sleeved tan dress that ended above her short brown leather boots, a dark brown afghan draped about her shoulders and tied in a knot in front to keep the slight chill in the air at bay. Her chestnut-brown hair was done in two long braids that reached down to her waist. Beside her on the path was a wide basket with a long handle, small green plants spilling casually over the side.

“…The festival?” Darien heard himself ask aloud, though he fervently wished he hadn’t afterward. Luckily for him, Jake had quick wit.

“You must still be half-asleep. Of course you remember the festival? We left days ago to be there on time.” Jake turned to face the girl again, “Could you tell us, maiden, how far we must travel to get there?”

‘Something’s strange about all this…Why did she think we were lying when we said we were lost, and why did she assume we were heading to a festival if she thought we were lying?’

“I just told you I was from Garn,” Mellisa laughed, “You are but half an hour away from the festival site--if you had traveled a few minutes more last night you would have seen the lights of the city through the forest.” Her next statement was directed at him, “Don’t worry, I am not with the New Guard. You need not fear discovery.”

‘Fear discovery? Discovery of what?’ though he was still unsure of what she was talking about, Darien flashed her a convincible relieved smile. ‘Thank God for drama class.’

Jake looked to him with his eyebrows raised in a puzzled expression, but said nothing.

“If you’d like, and if you could wait a few minutes more, I can escort you back.” the girl offered, brushing a long plait of hair behind her shoulder, “I just need to collect a few more herbs for my Grandmother--she’ll be heading the ceremony by the way.”

“That would be wonderful, Lady Mellisa. Shall we accompany you?” Jake accepted, offering the latter part out of courtesy.

“No, that’s alright. I’ll be back soon.” She picked up her basket and waved as she walked out of sight down the dirt path.

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