Young Writers Society

The forms that magic takes in Arium vary from person to person, but each can be categorized into a certain type.

The most common of these types are the Elementals. Their magic stems from control over plants, flames, water, air, ground, darkness and light.

Enhancers are less common. Their magic allows them to change some aspect of their body. This type is less strict than the Elementals, allowing for a wider variety of magical abilities.

The final class of magic are the Rogues; they have the rarest type of magic. The magic is miscellaneous, ranging from abilities like healing to rift opening.



There are certain roles that we need in the storybook, but, for the most part, there isn't a restriction on how many characters are from Earth and how many are from Arium. The only character currently needed is a king from Arium. At the most, the maximum amount of characters you can write for is two, though this may change as the story progresses.

He slipped through the hallways of the old house silently; he was especially quiet as he made his way in front of the closed bedroom door. The optimal opportunity to escape would have been while they were out of the house, but he needed the cover of nightfall. The bag that he had slung over one shoulder bumped up against the side of his leg as he approached the hutch. It was where the emergency stash of money was kept. He had observed this on his first day with the Carlyles, and had been monitoring its location since then.

He carefully opened the main drawer and pushed asides its contents until a small wallet came into view. After prying it free from the clutter of the hutch, he removed the money and stuffed the thick wads of cash into his bag. He gently placed the wallet back where it had originally been and closed the drawer.

He quickly returned to his room. He knew that they had placed alarms on the back and front doors; he wasn't sure if they were for him or for possible burglars. Whatever the case was, he couldn't risk activating them. Besides, escaping through the window made everything far more entertaining.

Especially when his bedroom was on the second floor.

He checked his room for any remaining belongings. Spying Percival's journal on his desk, he wasted no time in rushing over and slipping it into his bag. He was relieved that he had seen it lying there. He would have been forced to return if he had forgotten it.

His attention turned to the only window in his room. He walked over to it and pushed it opened. It made a slight squeaking noise as he did so, but he doubted the Carlyles could hear it from their bedroom. He climbed onto the windowsill. He prepared for the jump and pain that would come immediately afterwards.

Then he pushed off from the windowsill.

Bending his legs prior to his feet touching the ground could only help relieve the pain so much. Allowing himself a thin-lipped smile, he rushed off into the street. Every moment was precious, and gave his newest family a higher chance of finding him.

His eyes traveled to the bustling city his newest living quarters – because only Percival's house could be considered home – was on the outskirts of. With adrenaline rushing through his veins, he ran towards its towering buildings and starless sky.

Alec received the call earlier that night. The doctors were so optimistic about her chances. They were certain she would awaken very soon, but all that had changed. At some point that morning, they realized she might not wake up for months, maybe even years. And then he got the text from his father.



Alec knew what was happening. And he knew what he'd have to do if he went. His father couldn't afford the support required for a patient in a coma. He had no living relatives to help, and Alec was too young for a job, so he could only afford what his wages allowed. Not to mention he had missed so much work while at the hospital that he had gotten demoted three times.

Tonight they would pull the plug.

He looked across the street at the hospital he had been waiting by. It was a massive, glowing building, tearing the sky in half. The other skyscrapers surrounding it were in no way as beautiful as it was. But inside, people were dying. The left-behind were crying. Doctors were shaking their heads sadly, and spouses were jumping out of waiting chairs disbelievingly.

It didn't matter if he said goodbye to his mother. She wouldn't hear him. He would never hear her soft, soothing voice saying “I love you” or “it'll be okay”. He didn't want his last memory of her to be in that building, surrounded by death, as she herself slipped away to a place no living being could ever reach.

And then, as if the clouds above could feel his emotion, it began to rain. Alec looked up into the rain. Drops of water ran down his cheeks, and even he didn't know if that was the rain or his tears. He looked back at the hospital and stared at it for a drawn out minute. Almost every second, a light went out. Another room became vacant, and chances are it wasn't for a good reason.

He pulled up his hood and turned away from the hospital, One last glance over the shoulder, and then a bus crossed between him and the hospital on the highway. It was out of view, and he looked away for the last time. Painfully, he began to walk down the street.

He didn't know where he was going, but he followed the unpredictable path of city-streets. Rain poured down his face at this point, but he was wearing a hood. No rain truly ever reached his cheeks.

There was a bridge which led into town. It was huge, a massive suspension. At night, the towers glowed yellow in the spotlights set up last Christmas. It wasn't the newest bridge, and parts of it were no longer functional. The side rail was bent open in one spot, and he approached it.

He slipped through the space in the guard rail without thinking and plummeted to the water three hundred feet below. These were his last moments.

Time seemed to slow down as he fell, and the cold ripples of water he spiraled towards seemed to creep towards him. Above the swirl of black water, a circular anomaly formed, and he went straight for it.

So is this what it's like to die? I always imagined it to be a lot quicker. The anomaly grew closer. Where will that take me? The afterlife? He smiled. I'll get to see Mom. Now it was right in front of him. He laughed out loud as people crowded the bridge, hurriedly shouting to him or whipping out phones and dialing 911. Sirens blared in the distance. He shouted out to no one in particular. “Goodbye!”

And then he slammed into the anomaly.

Hannah, for the first time in quite a while, found herself giggling while reading her book, entitled Badass – with oh so satisfying sub-title: A Relentless Onslaught of the Toughest Warlords, Vikings, Samurai, Pirates, Gunfighters, and Military Commanders to Ever Live.
Hannah took a sip of her tea, still giggling, before putting it back on the silver plate posed on the table next to her comfy armchair. She took a few seconds to look around her, enjoying the calm ambient of her father’s library and thanking him once again from closing the windows’ curtains, thus limiting the heat’s assault in the building. She usually liked the heat, but certainly not when she finally got her hands on one of the funniest politically incorrect book she had ever come across.

“Want some more tea?”

Turning her head to the left, Hannah discovered her father, Todd, dressed in his favorite black butler outfit with round glasses decorating his bald head, standing next to her chair while gazing at her with a happy smile.

“Well, speak of the devil!” Hannah exclaimed joyfully. “Or… Think, I guess.”

Hannah’s father raised an eyebrow. “Was I doing anything as bombastic as any of the characters in this book in your thoughts?” he inquired, amused.

“Characters?” Hannah repeated. “You’re talking about them as if they were fiction, but as far as I know, everything mentioned here happened.”

“Why yes, I know. That’s why I bought you the Badass trilogy.”

“A choice for which I’m still thanking you for, by the by.” Hannah added. “Best… Birthday gift… Ever. Oh, and uh, no, no more tea, please.”

“Got it. And you’re welcome.”

Hannah’s smile slightly faded as she stared at her father, an awkward silence invading their joyful ambient. “…You doin’ okay, Dad? You look a bit down today. Is it the lack of clients?”

“No, not really. Holidays only just started for some, so I don’t expect many people to come by this place for now. I think I’m just tired in general. This hasn’t exactly been the best year for us, since, well… You know.”

Hannah placed her bookmark on her page before closing the book and raising up, approaching Todd. “C’mon, Dad, don’t be like that!” she exclaimed, tapping his back with an energetic hand. “This year’s also my break year, remember? I’ve got enough money to spend some time traveling round the world and figuring out what I wanna do, and you get to enjoy life, catch some hours of sleep and not think about Mom too much.”

“…That last sentence didn’t help, I’m afraid.”

“Sorry. I swear I’m trying.”

“I can tell, sweetie. But are you sure this is what you want? I mean, I don’t want you to stay here or anything, you know your mother and I were never against you traveling so much, but… This is a bit more than usual.”

“I know, I know, but I’ll be fine.” Hannah assured. “I probably won’t be able to send you as many news as usual, but I always tell you everything when I’m back. Just worry about getting back on your feet, okay?” Hannah pointed a menacing finger at him. “And I better not find your body hangin’ from some rope when I stop by this place to say hi.”

Todd frowned. “First of, that’s a… terrifying image, and second, if there’s an afterlife for me to meet your mother into, she’d probably convince whoever’s in charge to send me back here as a ghost as punishment for abandoning you.”

“Assuming there’s no Hell to send you in.”

“Assuming there’s no Hell to send me in.”

They shared a complicit gaze and laughed out loud for several seconds.

“We’re horrible.” Hannah commented after they calmed down.

“Well, you brightened my mood a little, so, we’re probably not so bad.” her father replied. He looked at his plate, frowning. “Guess I’ll drink that myself, then. Are you leaving soon?”

Hannah looked at her watch. “Yes, actually. I’ve got one last cosplay to try out before leaving, so, this is the last time we see each other for a year.”

“It’s a good thing I’m used to see you wander around, else this would sound about as terrifying as the rope thing earlier.”

Hannah giggled as she grabbed her book, the shoulder bag next to her armchair and placed it back inside. “I’ll think about adding ropes everywhere in my next cosplays, we should let this become an inside joke.”

Todd giggled along. “You’re horrible.”





Back in her apartment, Hannah didn’t take much time to prepare her suitcase. She already knew what she needed to take, so after packing her things and making sure that everything was ready for her grand departure, Hannah sat down in front of her dressing table, put on some music with her phone and began her favorite activity: choosing a disguise. She first decided to pick up her favorite attire: purple t-shirt, large-sleeved green coat with vertical black stripes, black short skirt, and black boots. She gazed at herself, smiling shyly. It was the attire she had chosen many times to participate in karaoke contests or improvised scenes. The fact that it represented her dramatic persona, Hanabi d’Apocrea, certainly had something to do with it.

At any rate, it was probably because of how absorbed Hannah was by her task that she took more than an hour to notice the strange, ovoid blue shape behind her. When she did notice it however, she immediately turned back to stare at it extensively.

The… thing was silently standing there, next to her door – and luckily, not in front of it, else she couldn’t have left her bathroom to reach for her phone, then come back and take a picture. Intrigued, Hannah took a pen laying around on her dressing table and threw it at the ovoid thing. It was as if the pen had been engulfed inside, and upon inspection, Hannah realized that it hadn’t fall back inside the room.

“…Okay, What.” Hannah couldn’t help but comment, immensely confused. She had read enough fantasy, watched enough Animes and played enough games to guess what this ovoid shape was, but the rational part of her brain simply couldn’t believe it just yet. So, Hannah timidly put an arm through the portal before rapidly removing it.

Nothing had changed.

Frowning, Hannah took her phone once more and activate the camera function, turning off the music as she did. She once again put an arm through the ovoid shape and, after a few seconds, removed it. She stared at the recorded image, incredulous: from what she could see, there was a forest on the other side, and that forest had trees full of lavender to purple-colored leaves. Something that, as far as she knew, didn’t exist on Earth.

“…Holy cow.” Hannah exclaimed. “Holy, freaking, cow.” Excited yet afraid, Hannah immediately sent an SMS to her father.

The trip started, Dad! People at the airport say I gotta turn off my phone for a while. From this point on, don’t worry about me, ‘kay? Live your life for a year, and I’ll sent ya some news from time to time. You know how it is with horrible me, lol.

Love you.

She wasn’t completely lying – after all, had this ovoid thing not appeared to distract her, she would’ve already been on her way to the airport.

…Nah. Hannah.

Hannah raised her head just as she sent the SMS. Something had called her.

…Nah! Hannah!!


Hannah’s eyes widened. She knew that voice. But it was impossible: after all, it was the first time she ever heard it.

…HANNAH! HELP!

Heart pounding, Hannah approached the ovoid thing as the voice in her head grew louder and louder. She was sure of it now: It was coming from what she could only guess was some sort of portal. And worst of all: she felt an unstoppable, imperious urge to go through and help whatever was calling her. Without thinking, Hannah grabbed her shoulder bag and leaped through the portal.

HANNAH!!!

If she had to describe what she felt, Hannah would say that she was… possessed. Possessed by this feeling, this connection she felt to that voice she knew, yet did not know. Then, as she reached the forest she has seen thanks to her phone – her phone! She hadn’t even taken it with her! – she felt as if a dam somewhere in her being had shattered. A sudden pain reached the tip of her fingers, and to her surprise, tiny sparks appeared along with the pain and flew towards the grass, setting it on fire.

Virginia dropped one too many sugar cubes into her tea that day. Or at least, that's what she assumed went wrong. Before going out, she put her hair up into a bun and threw a new shirt on. Slipping on a pair of converse that she'd found at a local thrift store, she darted down the stairs.

As habit, she kissed both of her parents on the cheek, addressing them before she left. "Father. Other Father." together they stole the name from the book Coraline when she didn't know what to call them. Virginia called them that since her youth. The first book the two of them took turns reading aloud to her, by request. Those days were embedded deep into her mind.

"See you later, kiddo."

"Bye-bye, little bird."

Virginia waved and closed the door behind her. At the time she didn't know that this would be the last time that she saw the both of them for awhile. With a single hand, she fumbled her wallet and checked how much money she had on her. Not much. That wasn't to say it wasn't what she expected in the back of her mind, she just hoped otherwise.

She kicked up her skateboard and started riding down the familiar sidewalk. A curb where she learned all the cracks and bumps of the concrete as they progressed and grew over the years. Virginia took this path that travelled from her block to the grocery store for years, and not once in her neighborhood did she see fissures this big. Virginia picked up the skateboard from underneath her feet and started walking.

As she advanced closer and closer to the local mall, she started to think that this wasn't caused by the extra sugar cubes in her drink. The line of buildings on that boulevard controlled by different businesses looked uninterrupted.

Virginia thought that this might have been an earthquake or tremor until the end of an alley caught her eye. A gentle glow of sorts that drew her in. Virginia spotted a lilac-colored cat, mesmerized by the opening. The yellow sign that said 'Dead End' had been torn off of the brick wall completely.

Curosity took control of her. Virginia found her own lonely cat that day. Her own door to a different world to walk into, and she wanted to take the chance. The decision solidified in her mind as she decided to find out what was on the other side. Virginia picked up a crate near the dumpster and stood on top of it, turning her back.

She hesitated, wondering what her parents would think. Realizing that this wasn't fair to the two of them. Already, Virginia could envision the worry on their faces. No, Virginia left a strain on them from still living with them. Maybe their financial situation would be better without her. They wouldn't have to deal with her anymore.

Virginia told herself those excuses, knowing that the both of them loved her and would miss her presence. Before she could second guess herself, her fall already began as the box slipped from underneath her as the cat nudged it with affection. Just enough affection to make her trip. A pang of regret jabbed into her conscious as she hurtled downward into the endless expanse.

The last image in Virginia's mind just happened to be the stray cat, perched on the crate, tilting its head at her. How appropriate.

KASPAR PEREGRINE

Julian woke up with a start, relieved that the nightmare was over.

Then his senses caught up with him; the darkness of the abandoned warehouse, the stench of blood in the air, the ropes binding him to the chair, the horrible, nigh unbearable pain from his numerous injuries.

It wasn’t a dream.

He whimpered, desperately trying to scream for salvation: freedom, police, death, anything; but the balled up gag in his mouth was making it impossible.

“Ah, it seems that our guest has finally woken up.” A familiar voice drifted from nowhere in particular, turning Julian’s blood into ice. He struggled against the ropes with renewed desperation, knowing well what was about to happen.

A tall, thin silhouette came out of the shadows. Its features were obscured by darkness, but Julian knew exactly who the stranger was; he saw him on TV many times and, more recently, illuminated by the harsh white light of surgical lamps: Kaspar Alexander Peregrine.

“You seem to have drifted away during our last interrogation.” a switch was pulled and Julian’s eyes were assaulted by light from a lonely light bulb hanging over his head. The bulb’s reflection danced on a scalpel which Mr Peregrine was spinning in his fingers. “Shall we continue?”

Julian shook his head frantically, causing his tormentor to grin unpleasantly, dark eyes glinting with shameless and delighted malice.

“Good.” Kaspar said, reaching to pull out the gag. “Now, I will ask you one more time: where is my money?”

“I… I don’t have it!” Julian sputtered out through dried lips, sweat appearing on his forehead. “I swear… I don’t have it! It’s a mistake…”

Then he screamed as one flick of Mr Peregrine's wrist sent the scalpel into his thigh.

Kaspar sighed, looking almost as bored as during last week’s mandatory government meeting. He yanked out the scalpel, studying the bloodied blade casually, before he repeated, “A mistake?”

Julian nodded frantically, a faint glimmer of hope igniting in his heart. Will he actually leave the warehouse alive?
“Yes!” he assured, knowing damn well that he was lying; he and Martin had spent the cash on women, guns and alcohol. “I have no idea what you’re talking about! I swear that I don’t have i… AAAAAAAAH!” His pleas turned into incomprehensible screaming as Kaspar plunged the scalpel handle-deep into his stomach.

“Perhaps,” he mused, twisting the blade, “but even if you were innocent (which is unlikely, given the fact that I have your signature on paper,) do you really think that I would let you leave?”

***

Kaspar left the warehouse roughly three hours later, humming to himself in delight. The poor soul finally spilled the beans and told him everything he wanted to know. The cleaning crew were on their way, and even if someone did find the body, he doubted that they would be able to even recognize it as human.

Suddenly, there was a flicker in the corner of his vision. He turned around, hand traveling to his pocket, feeling out the gun.

A dark, shimmering portal met his eyes. The inside showed the exact reflection of his current location and the edges are somewhat blurred, as if reality itself was dissolving.

“What have we here?” he muttered, circling the rift carefully, his fingers tightening around the gun, just in case something or someone suddenly jumped out. Carefully, he reached out to touch the faintly shimmering image…

There was a brief flash of light and suddenly he was on the other side, blinking back the spots that were dancing in front of his eyes and slowly coming to the realization that there was a gun pressed to the back of his head.

Aton Crowley

Aton crouched behind an empty dumpster, hand gliding over the gun hanging by his belt. His target, a man named Michael Grey (25 years old, short but well muscled, green eyes, blond hair and tanned skin. Quite heavy and used to brawls – difficult to overpower in melee. Enhancer with increased strength. Do not engage directly) was on his way back home, staggering slightly from too much cheap vodka. Perfect.

He made a short gesture with his left hand and shadows rushed to his feet, clinging to his form and effectively rendering him invisible; a shadow among shadows in the dead of night. No longer needing cover, he left his hiding spot and noiselessly followed his target. They passed several bars and shops until Michael stumbled into a dark alley, clawing at his belt. Aton followed suit.

He watched the man relieve himself, considering the gun resting in his hand. Should he use it? The sound would alert half of the neighborhood and he still hasn’t gotten around to getting a new silencer - the last one was shot off by a rival assassin several minutes before his shadows tore her to shreds…

…shadows.

He could use them, but his boss specifically forbade the use of offensive magic during this particular assignment, and Aton prided himself in his meticulousness when it came to following orders. However, the old man had no way to check, and he only wanted Michael’s head; Aton could do whatever he wanted to the rest of the body.

Making up his mind, he concentrated on Michael, who was currently passed out against the wall in a puddle of his own waste. A thought, a gesture and tendrils of shadow energy rose from the ground and walls, cutting and piercing and slashing. The poor fool didn’t even have time to sober up before most of his body had been reduced to cat food.

Once the messy ordeal was over, Aton walked over and picked up Michael’s head, the only part left untouched, his face frozen in drunken bliss.

***

Mr Norton paid him a nice sum for the head of his ex-son-in-law. From what Aton remembered, Michael married his daughter, Dinah, before killing her on the wedding night and skipping town with her money.

He tsked, twirling a wisp of shadow around his fingers - the idiot didn’t even make it look like an accident. Luckily for Aton, he returned shortly after to pay off some overdue debts and celebrate with his friends, so the assassin didn’t have to chase him around too much.

As he rounded the corner, Aton caught a glimpse of movement beside one of the old warehouses. He pressed himself to the wall, shadows rushing to hide his presence.

A portal - one of many which seemed to open all over the city recently – glimmered faintly in the moonlight. He approached it curiously, gun and shadows at the ready.

Suddenly there was a short flash of annoyingly bright light and a man stood where the portal was.

Aton didn’t have a tendency to trust random strangers appearing out of mysterious portals, so he pressed his gun to the back of the guy’s head.
“Who are you?”

Navy Huckleberry

It was everything and it was nothing. Smooth yet slightly coarse to the touch; round yet unyielding; weightless yet solid; modest yet superb. A perfect balance of light and dark grey speckles.

Navy let his senses gush over the plain pebble in all its peaceful glory, until a gentle sigh of satisfaction escaped him. The glass shelf it belonged to displayed the price of the antique, which had a contrasting affect on any customer who dared take interest in the small item. Navy’s palms were getting sweaty just thinking about all those careful zeros.

Unfortunately, this just wouldn’t do for Navy. Being the young, inevitably poor guy he was, he couldn’t possibly afford what this pebble demanded of him. And, also unfortunately, that meant the situation would require some justified law breaking.

It wasn’t entirely Navy’s fault; Miho convinced him to do it. They had been debating the decision for almost an hour, and Navy’s feet were almost sore from standing in front of the store shelf for that long. Good thing he had thought to wear his soft shoes today, otherwise his stress levels would be peaking without question.

During his discussion with Miho, Navy’s concentration on the antique item had occasionally diverted to the store counter, where the storekeeper offered Navy strange, spectacled looks. Miho had teased Navy for being a coward, which Navy had swatted aside like he did most of Miho’s provocations. What Navy was about to do was outrageous and unprincipled, but completely necessary. He needed the antique pebble in his life, no matter what method he had to resort to. His future stress levels depended on it.

Miho, although not quite as dedicated to the cause, agreed to what he preferably termed reality entertainment.

Lurking under the surface of Navy’s fair skin, he could feel Miho’s corruption—a dirty, silver-tongued creature. And Navy was cooperating with it. Benefitting from it, even.

The world appeared to be full of surprises.

Miho was one of the voices in Navy’s head. To Navy, he was only a stream of independent thought, but in the city of Fukuoka, Japan, Miho Hanazawa was very much a real person. Or at least that’s what Miho had told him—it was hard to determine when Miho was joking or being serious. Like other voices and sounds, Miho had faded in and out of Navy’s head overtime, however the past few weeks he had stuck around, to the point of being clingy.

What are you waiting for, a gun signal? Just take the stupid rock and get out of there.

Easy for you to say. Navy replied, projecting his worded thoughts to Miho. You’re not even physically here… And it’s not a stupid rock.

I’m your moral support. Now hurry up before I die of old age.

It wasn’t as if Navy could choose to listen to Miho badger him, nor the other layers of invisible sounds. The torture was endless: day after day of noises only he could hear, with no way to block them out. It was random and overwhelming, and entirely out of Navy’s control.

Navy assured himself that the tension in his chest was nothing more than adrenaline. What would his dear mother think of him now?

A quick glance towards the counter, a swift arm movement, and Navy pocketed the antique pebble in his fleece pullover. He couldn’t believe it was that easy.

It’s done, Navy reported to Miho.

Damn. I expected more drama. Especially from you of all people, Miho responded, a note of disappointment in his tone.

Navy strolled around the store shelf to the front exit, adjusting his features to adopt an innocent poker face. He was two steps to freedom... One step...

A piercing alarm rang out as he crossed the store threshold. In all his consideration, Navy had failed to notice the store security gates.

Son of a biscuit!

What? Miho interrogated.

Navy took off at a run. He ran like he’d never run before, skidding to a halt once he turned the block corner. He stood, bent over and panting from exertion. He was going to be sick.

What? Miho repeated. You know I can’t see what’s going on there!

Alarm, Navy tried to explain, while collecting the scattered pieces of himself. Alarm gate went off.

From inside his head, Navy felt the energy of Miho’s explosive, barbaric laughter.

Navy peered around the corner to check whether he’d been followed, but the coast seemed clear. He let out a heavy sigh.

Ah, that’s awesome! I knew you wouldn’t let me down, Navy, struggled Miho through a fit of chaotic chuckles.

Navy fetched the pebble out of his pullover pocket to examine it. Stuck underneath the item were a hidden barcode chip and the item’s pricing sticker.

Oh. So that’s why the storekeeper hadn’t bothered chasing after him; Navy had misread the price tag… or, more specifically, where the decimal was placed:

The pebble equated to ten dollars, not one thousand.

Rain began to fall on the silhouetted buildings, painting the roads a dark mirror that reflected the city’s electric rainbow. Navy hadn’t realised how late it had gotten.

It was crucial for Navy to return home, if he were to avoid later suffering; the flashing neon always brought on his headaches.

Miho, you there? Navy thought, searching for his voice among the messy crowd in his head.

Silence from Miho.

Miho...?

He had been disconnected.

Despite the irritable persistence of the voices, Navy’s heart always managed to sink a little when one of them disappeared. The way his father had disappeared when he'd left his mother all those years ago.

Shoving the calming pebble back into his pocket, Navy set out across the busy street to his lonely apartment. Along his journey, he heard many distant, unobservable things. Things he couldn't share with the people around him.

Nina Jones

I walked away from the publisher's office, my manuscript still in hand. The Freak Circus read the title, below which was printed my initials, N. R. J. The rain was beating down on me from above, and I didn't have an umbrella. I wasn't sure I had enough thought or feeling left to open one anyway. The words of the publisher regarding my book kept echoing through my head, each time as painful as the first time they'd said it.

"What'd you do, pull this out of your ass?"

I had worn the outfit of one of my characters to even get up enough courage to submit my novel in person. The tails of the coat I was wearing flapped behind me as I crossed a busy street without checking the lights, receiving an angry honk and a large muddy splash. I glanced at the car numbly, shivering in the rain. I decided that I shouldn't care, summoned the rebellious nature of my character Smoke, and walked on ahead. I'd always had to do something like this in order to get anything done, because I had zero confidence, and using one of my characters as a shield was easier. I pushed my black top hat back on my head.

I didn't need to care about what they thought, because as Smoke I knew that I could do anything anyway. I turned a corner, and saw a strange ovular blue object, floating above the ground and glowing. I wondered if there had been something in the tea the publisher had given me. I decided that if there had been, there couldn't be any harm in investigating. I walked closer, shoving my hand into it. It passed right through. I then stowed my novel in my satchel- the one deviation I'd taken from Smoke's outfit- and tossed my wand/cane through the blue thing. I then went to the other side, and saw that it wasn't there. "Woah." I said, going back to the other side, and without much thought, I crawled through it.

I didn't know where I was, or what was happening. I felt like I was flying, or swimming, or a strange combination of the two. I took an experimental breath, and found that I could breathe. I was through the anomaly and out the other side in less than a second, but I'd never forget the sensation of going through it. I felt the ground underneath me, feeling the grass and the earth. It smelled different too, not like the car exhaust I was used to. One thing was for certain- I wasn't in the city anymore, and I loved it. I almost forgot about my novel entirely.

I spun around, enjoying the sights, the sounds, and the smells of this place. I just about burst out laughing at the combined wonder and absurdity of it all. It was always the strange people, the ones that stood out, that strange things happened to, but here I was, a normal person in an extraordinary situation. I had a new place to be, and I was going to find whatever there was to find. I took off running, I wanted to see this world!

It should have started as a normal day for me, if not for the news we heard on the morning of June 2, 1937. The words that came out of the radio in the office are still echoing in my mind, the last straw for Maggie cooperating in the current century. Many times I had offered to take her into the future, show her the place where I was from but each time there was an excuse. This banter should have been like any morning, her saying something about the family or the business or some other reason.

I watched her walk around the kitchen, waiting for a reply to the daily question. The coffee continued to rumble in the pot on the stove, the steam clinging to a nearby window. As usual, my bag sat by one of the desks, waiting to go on a new trip.

“Yes.”
I choked on a bit of muffin.
“I want to go.”
Then I choked on the coffee I tried to wash it down with.
“When can we leave?”
“Whenever you want. I'm always packed.”
“Give me five minutes.”

She disappeared into the back room, tossing around clothing, I could see a scarf fly up between the partition. There was a reason I wanted to know, something she wasn't telling me, something outside of the news of Earhart’s disappearance. I took another sip of the stale-ish coffee, trying to estimate how many stops I would need to make to jump through time. Going backwards? That was easy. Forwards? Complete pain in my ass. Maggie didn't understand it, Enhancers and Elementals never seemed to be able to understand it, the one downside of leaving Ness in Chicago. The FBI was filled with Rogues, as well as the Sicilian mafia, something that made life easier.

Five minutes later, out came two bags, followed by a short contortionist with the slight look of murder in her eye. It has always been there for some reason and made it hard for me to describe her accurately to anyone, not that there wasn't anyone in town who had ever met her.

"Are you ready?"
"Yeah. Just need to find my watch and gun."
"Why?"
"Because Maggie," i said this while digging around the drawer for the pistol and holster,"the time I'm from is different from this one. Much more dangerous."
"Oh." She pulled a cigarette from the silver case. "How do you travel this far forward in time, I thought you said it wasn't easily done?"
"It takes a bit of prep but as long as I know where I'm going, it should be good. I think I'll move it up ten years from when I left, the hair are one thing to fix but the eyes can't lie."

I held out my one hand to her and picked up the suitcase with the other. The usual blue mist appeared around me, as it did every time to mask the sudden disappearance, and we slipped through the portal to another time. I heard the traffic on the other side, waiting for us, and I waiting to see my own life again.

He slowed to a walk as he went deeper into the city. Now it would be much easier to avoid the gazes of other people – all he had to do was fit in with the crowd and wait until the moon to rise once more. His foster family would expect him to go south. Though he had never said the reason for why he did that, it was something that every one of his foster homes had learned prior to even meeting him.

They were right. He would go south. He would get back to that small Florida town and find out what happened on the night of the fire. This time, he wouldn't get caught. He would figure out what exactly had gone down on the night that Percival died, and then he would follow Percival's dream. He would get the education Percival always dreamed of, then somehow make his way over to Egypt and study the pyramids. And it would be there, underneath the stars Percival had always wanted to see, that he would finally be close to his best friend once again.

But then he caught a glimpse of something in one of the alleyways he passed, and he came to a halt. Everyone else was absorbed in their phones or simply getting from point a to point b. Only Blake seemed to notice the strange blue oval hovering over the ground in the alleyway. So, breaking free from the flow of people, he walked into the alleyway and over to it.

He peered around it. It was so thin that it was almost like it wasn't there. It didn't make sense – how was it not touching the ground? And why did it seem so familiar to him? He knew that he had seen it somewhere before, somewhere many, many years ago. He just couldn't remember where-

His eyes widened as memories came rushing back. Nine year old him had tried so hard to forget it, but sixteen year old him was now desperately trying to remember every single detail. This had been what had appeared before the house had burned down. This had been what appeared before he felt the flames scorching his face, and a rage burning in his heart. This had been what that damn woman had stepped through, and had tried taking Percival through too before someone – It wasn't me. It wasn't me. – started a fire that ended the would-be kidnapper's and Percival's lives.

He didn't need to go to Florida to get his answers.

His answers were right in front of him.

With reckless abandon, he rushed through what had to be some sort of portal. He didn't know where he was going or what he was going to find on the other side, but he knew that it was where he was meant to go.



He found himself in woodlands full of trees that seemed straight out of a fantasy novel. Their bark didn't look the same as the bark on the trees he had seen back in Pennsylvania, and the leaves were a beautiful array of different shades of purple. The portal behind him still remained opened, but he knew that he wouldn't be going back. This place felt right. Though he didn't understand why, there was something magical about this place he had found himself in.

He looked around. It seemed like he was alone. That didn't bother him; he was used to being without company. But when he heard something moving about in the near vicinity, his heart skipped a beat. He turned around to see a familiar boy emerge from the bushes.

He had seen him in the hallways at the school he had briefly attended during his time with Carlyles. He struggled to recall a name; he knew the boy had won an award or two. As he walked over to him, the name came back to him. His name was Alec Johnston. There had been something bad happening to him, but Blake couldn't recall what. He had just heard snippets of conversations in which Alec's peers pitied him.

He readjusted the strap to his bag.

“Yo, Alec,” he said. At the boy's look of confusion, he added, “I'm Blake Novelo. I'm a junior at the high school you go to. Did you come through one of those portals too?”

Navy Huckleberry

On the way to his apartment, Navy gambled with his headache chances to stop by his mother’s place, because that was just the type of guy he was—a stoic of pure values.

He wasn’t too reckless, however; he made it his business to purchase a floral-print umbrella when passing a storefront bucket, for two imperative reasons:

Firstly, the only other umbrella designs were red flames or kiwi zigzags, both of which exceeded the recommended visual stimulation of a tranquil spirit—as sourced by the New Age article Navy had read in the waiting room of that acupuncture clinic the other week.

And secondly, the sudden cold temperature of the downpour on his bare, blonde head could prove mildly traumatic, especially with the recent series of events adding to his load of burdens…

Troubling, floating, spiraling, warping, vertigo-inducing, glowing, unknown phenomenon had been popping up around the city as of late, and Navy wanted absolutely nothing to do with them. Much against Navy’s active assertion, these holes of light seemed to want absolutely everything to do with him, and it was starting to get ridiculous.

He was avoiding one now, in such a coincidence, as Navy crept cautiously along the perimeter of a lamp lit car park, his eyes staring down the luminous oval at its centre. After hearing unexplainable sounds in his head for several years, not much astounded Navy anymore. Not even this… mysterious whatever-it-was.

Not today, Oval of Doom, Navy thought to himself, his umbrella poised protectively above him. Not today.

From a short distance away he could spot his mother’s duplex apartment, its amber windows spilling light onto the road he would soon cross over.

Who are you calling oval? I happen to be on the slimmer side of physiques, in case you were wondering.

Navy groaned outwardly. Not Carol again. He hated hearing Carol.

Are you even listening to me, young man? Carol scolded, her voice rattling around the inside of Navy’s skull. I say, these newer generations these days… Calling respectable ladies oval-shaped. Walking around with their techno-whatsits… No manners. No manners, I say.

Navy approached the steps of his mother’s building—a quaint-looking dwelling of simple taste, its details concealed by darkness—and did his best to ignore the squawking voice in his head. Maybe if he stayed silent, Carol would give up her one-sided bickering.

The door opened while Navy fought to close his drenched umbrella, revealing the short, cute woman that was his mother, her blue eyes famed by thick-rimmed glasses. She wore a dark, woolen poncho that draped loosely from her arms, giving her the odd yet impressive resemblance of a fluffy bat. Navy thought the look suited her incredibly well.

“Hi, Mom,” Navy greeted, finally managing to snap the umbrella shut. “How did you know I was here?”

Navy’s mother sighed with a dry smile. “Honey, you always come at this time. Without fail. It’s almost too predictable, you know.”

“Oh... Well, I’m here! Just thought I’d drop by, see how the ol’ day’s been treating you.” He winked, striving for natural charm.

Navy’s mother laughed, although today it sounded bittersweet. “There’s tea in the kitchen. I need to talk to you about something.” She pushed the door wider and walked further inside.

Navy followed after a brief hesitation. What could she possibly need to tell him? He placed his umbrella down against the outer wall of the building.

How dare you refer to me as if I’m not even here, young man! Carol shrieked, her voice rising from Navy’s mind in reaction. Are you ignoring me? I say, you’re just as bad as my second husband. And you know what happened to him? He died of an ear infection. You men are all the same, I say—listening until it becomes inconvenient for you…

Navy did his best to block out Carol’s voice while moving. Beyond his mother’s front door was a narrow hallway, its two walls hidden by an abundance of crowded bookshelves. As his eyes skimmed the book titles—all philosophy essays and authors—his right hand inadvertently drifted to his pullover pocket, where the calming stone from earlier provided some relief to his internal suffering.

…Well let this be clear: I have plenty of things I should tell you, young man. Plenty of things! Carol threatened, oblivious to Navy and his physical world.

The kitchen appeared around the left wall at the far end of the hallway. It was a compact room, but it presented a cozy vibe. Navy’s mother hummed by the counter as she poured two cups of tea.

“Navy, sweetheart,” she began, setting the two cups on the small kitchen table. In the subdued glow of the ceiling light, she looked even more like a bat. “I’m a little worried about you.”

Navy lowered himself into one of the chairs, his eyebrows furrowing. “How so?” he asked, forgetting to remove his hand from the calming stone in his pocket.

Navy’s mother sat opposite him, taking the hand that wasn’t in his pocket. “I understand that you’ve wanted to take care of me since your father left, but I don’t want you to throw your life away because of me,” she said, giving Navy one of her dimpled smiles. “You should be out there exploring, perusing your dreams. Making friends.”

“Mom,” Navy said, trying to make her believe, “I don’t need friends. I’ve already got an entire party in my hea—” Before he could stop the sentence from diving off his tongue, it was already freefalling in the air between them.

Navy watched his mother’s expression shift from compassion to weariness; he knew how she felt about the voices.

“I—I’m sorry,” said Navy, fixing his gaze down.

“Oh, baby, it’s not your fault!” His mother brightened again. “You know I love you no matter what.”

But it was. It was his fault. It had to be, somehow.

“Um… I should leave,” Navy said, standing abruptly. “I don’t want to disturb you any longer.”

“But—”

“Besides,” he interjected, forcing a smile, “I just remembered I have something very important to attend to. It’d be irresponsible of me to leave it.” That was a big lie; he had nothing of the sort.

Navy exited the kitchen and made for the front door, his mother flapping after him in her dark poncho. “Honey,” she called, “think about what I told you! You don’t have to worry about me anymore, honestly. I can cope fine on my own!” Navy reached the door and turned its cold handle. Every word his mother uttered cut across him like razors. The pressure was giving him a headache. “Please,” she continued, “just promise me you’ll take care of your own life now…” Was that tears Navy could hear in her voice? He didn’t glance back to check.

“Bye, Mom,” Navy announced, before stepping outside and retrieving his umbrella. “Take care of yourself, won’t you?” His throat was dense, and he still wouldn’t spin around to face her.

As Navy shut the door behind him, he heard his mother’s parting words, “I only want you to be happy, my son. Find your raison d'être, and you will find your strong voice.” Navy could definitely recognize a sob in her tone that time. He would know—being an expert of voices. As for the philosophical term, it had been ingrained in him since early childhood...

Raison d'être: reason for being.

Navy couldn’t recall how far he walked after saying goodbye, but it felt like a very long, long time. It was during this uncertain time period that the Ovals of Doom finally caught up to him, surprising him around the corner of a grubby, downtown bar. And, quite frankly, Navy didn’t put up much of a struggle.

The sensation was confusing and gravitational, like drowning in a dream. The hovering, blue oval pulled Navy into its glowing surface, and for a moment there he was tumbling in serene chaos.

The only sensation he could fathom was Carol’s voice in his head, reprimanding him when he needed it least: Well, what do you have to say for yourself, young man? It’s all listen, listen, listen from you, without any talk. Speak up, I say! Speak up!

Navy landed on solid ground with a thud.

“No no no NO NO NO, MY GOD, STOP!”

Those were the only words Hannah could utter as she used her coat and feet to put out the beginning of a forest fire that had begun without her exactly knowing how. Her hands were still shining brightly, and Hannah herself didn’t seem to be affected by the flames. She didn’t feel the heat, and although she could easily smell the smoke that should make her suffocate, it didn’t seem to affect her.

HANNAH!! Over here!

And that voice, that urgent voice that kept pressing her. Abandoning her cloak and impossible task, Hannah followed the screams of the voice in her mind, encouraging her to approach. Somehow, she reached a glade in the middle of the burning forest, and finally, she saw it. An orange-furred fox with big, oval-shaped golden eyes and a tiny flame burning at the white tip of its large tail. In front of it, however, was a monster.
It was a wooden man. No… not man. It was human-shaped, but the arms and legs were too slim, its “hands” were simple hammer-like balls of wood, its torso was literally a trunk, and the head was a simple cylinder with two triangular spots for eyes. The creature lifted an arm and let it fell down where the fox had been standing a second ago: it had dashed away behind a tree.

Hannah! Be careful! The Djinmok has awakened!

Looking at the bush, Hannah could see that the fox was staring right at her. So, he was certainly the one who had called her all along.

I am! But there’s no time to explain! I- LOOK OUT!

Hannah looked back at the wooden creature – it was speedily walking in her direction. “Oh man oh man oh man!” she screamed as she moved back, placing her hands in front of her in a protective gesture. The wooden man lifted an arm, leaped forward and attempt to hit her. She plunged under him and rolled like she had learned in gym classes before turning back.

Hannah! Use your ability!

Hannah’s heart was pounding. She was absolutely panicked, but the reasonable voice in her head was her only comfort, the only thing that made her believe that maybe, just maybe, she hadn’t gone insane.

“Ability… Ability… Right… Ability… Uh…” Hannah remembered that some flaming sparks had come from her fingertips to start the fire in the first place. As the Djinmok – as Hannah could only guess that it was the name of the wooden creature – approached once more, she pointed her fingers at it and, just like before, tiny purple sparks came out of her fingertips to hit the wooden monster. It ignited in place, stopping its menacing walk to contort itself in pain, a guttural, agonizing cry coming out of its being. Hannah covered her ears and closed her eyes. Her breathing accelerated.
The cry was terrifying. She didn’t want to hear it anymore. She didn’t want to

HANNAH!

The sudden cry in her mind made her snap her eyes open just as the Djinmok moved a flaming arm towards her head. Oh. Hannah thought for a split-second. I’m dead.

Then, a red blur arrived in front of her head and slightly pushed her aside with all its strength. On the ground, Hannah slowly gazed on the side. The fox she had just met, the fox that had talked to her, the fox she had come to save, the fox that had been her only voice of reason, was lying in the place she had seen herself dying.
And the Djinmok was beating it to death with its flaming arms.

“NO!” Hannah shouted, rising in a flash. “STOP IT!” she desperately put her arms forward. Ten little purple balls of flame came out of her fingertips and hit the Djinmok, who let out its agonizing cry once more. Without thinking, Hannah ran towards the flaming monster and kicked it away. Still screaming, it ran away before falling on the ground, immobile.
Hannah, however, didn’t care – her little fox was dead, and her fireballs had somehow ignited his body, as well. “What should I do…?” Hannah inquired in the middle of the burning forest, as tears began to form in her eyes. “What should I do…?”

The Possession… Is complete.

Hannah raised her head. Looking down, she saw the little flame on the tip of the fox’s tail ignite once more. The fox’s beaten body retrieved its former glory and it opened its golden eyes, staring into Hannah’s.

Your possession of me, I mean. He added. Not the other way around. Well, we’re linked, but you’re the driving force, really.

“You’re… You’re alive?” was the only sensible thing Hannah could say.

Well um, yes and no. The fox admitted in a bittersweet tone. The Djinmok… killed my body, but your power revived it. And as long as we’re connected, it won’t consume itself, unlike everything else.

“What… What do you mean? I don’t… I don’t understand. I… What’s happening? We have to do something about the flames, we have to–”

Hannah! Hannah. Listen to me. I’ll explain everything to you, alright? I promise. None of this is really your fault, especially considering how your power activated. But listen, okay? If I had to translate your power in your tongue, it would be: Ignite Spark. You can create fire sparks that set anything it comes in contact with on fire. But when it connects with a non-sentient being, object, or in my case, corpse, its ignition allows you to take control of it. It bends to your will until its body is consumed. And right now, it’s a good chunk of the forest that’s consumed by your power. But it’s not spreading! Look!

Hannah looked around her. The fox was right: the fire wasn’t spreading anymore. It was fixed to an area away from the glade, but she could see the limit of the flames.

“Okay… Okay… Not spreading… Not spreading…” Hannah repeated to herself, slightly less terrified. “How… How do I stop it?”

You need to wish for everything here to do something for you until their beings burn to ashes. Anything you want!

Hannah closed her eyes. Anything she wanted. But all she wanted was for this nightmare to stop. Then, it hit her. “…Bring me my cloak.” she whispered out loud. And everyone, come closer to me. Protect me until you’re consumed.” When she opened her eyes, it seemed like nothing had changed. But suddenly, as her fox companion jumped on her shoulder to witness the event with her, she saw the change. Bushes, leaves, burning corpses of various animals, and even trees, they were all converging towards her until they formed an impenetrable wall of fire for her to rest in.

Okay! You did it! Now all we need to do is– the Familiar looked at his mistress with curious eyes. …Hannah?

Face flooded with tears, Hannah contemplated the horrifying view around her. She cried until her entire body ached, until everything around her turned to black, indistinguishable ash and cinder. It rained down on her like a curse, staining her clothes with its color. Her favorite coat had taken a similar black color, buried by the thousands of cinder flakes that were once animals, trees and plants she had yet to discover.
An entire side of life had died. And it was her fault.

NO! the fox by her side screamed. No, Hannah! It’s not your fault! No matter how much it feels that way! I… I had no choice but to call you, but your powers weren’t supposed to manifest in such a painful way right from the get go! Something happened along the way, and we NEED to discover what!

Hannah stared at her darkened coat. Her mind was buzzing with noises she remembered: animal screams, and especially, the cry of the Djinmok.

Hannah, please, listen to me! We need to do something! But I can’t tell you anything if you’re like this!

“...But I can’t not be like this after what just happened.” Hannah replied, feeling a new wave of tears about to burst free. “Am I just… Are we just gonna walk away like nothing happened while you give me some stupid world exposition?” her voice broke. “I’m not… I’m not some stupid cartoon girl, I can’t take that stuff, wait next episode and act like it’s all behind me…! I… I’m…”

Hannah. The fox gently called. In your world... What do people do when living beings die?

“I dunno... They bury them?”

Well, that’s our next duty. Your power is amazing, but you can’t see how yet. It… It’s true that you killed a part of the forest with it. This… Wasn’t supposed to happen. But we’re here, alive. We should at least honor the dead if we want to move on.

For seconds that felt like hours, Hannah stayed in place, thinking about her little fox’s words. “...What’s your name?”

Gosskurn Kyam. It’s a spellbound name, that’s why it’s so long. You can call me Goss, since I’m your Possessed Familiar.

“Gosskurn Kyam.” Hannah repeated. “Gosskurn Kyam. Goss. O…Okay. Goss, can you bring me a shovel or something?”

I’ll see what I can find. Goss leaped from his spot and ran towards a faraway spot, where the Djinmok had fallen. He came back several minutes later, the wooden monster’s leg stuck in the mouth. I dug a bit in that thing’s foot to make it kinda like a big spoon. He explained as he put the modified shard of wood in front of his depressed mistress. The feet isn’t articulated anymore, since you defeated the Djinmok. It should work just fine.

Hannah slowly rose from the ground, taking the improvised shovel in her hand. “Right… Right. Okay. Let’s do it.”





Hannah had no idea that manual work could be so relieving. During the first moments of task, tears still appeared in her eyes as she dug graves with her improvised shovel. The cries of agony, the fire burning, the vision of cinder flakes raining down on her as staring corpses decayed before her eyes, everything came back to her every time she blinked, every time she moved. She couldn’t stop the visions, and she felt like vomiting every time they appeared again. Yet, there was something appeasing about her repeated sequence.

“With the tip of the shovel: Strike the Earth.” she mumbled as she continued. “With the delicacy of your hands: Crash to Ash. With the dance of your Familiar Fox: Back to the Soil. Final act of mercy: Stick that Rod.”

The calming chant hadn’t made the visions go away, but it had helped Hannah accept them instead of trying to cast them away. Goss, too, was a big help, encouraging her every step of the way, and explaining her how to use her Ignite Spark to soften the ground with a controlled blast instead of letting it flow.

I think we’re done. Goss eventually said in a satisfied tone.

Hannah put a hand to her forehand, whipping away drops of swear. She contemplated her work, satisfied as well: a tiny graveyard had appeared in the glade, with branches posing as tombstones, and every little mound of soil were well aligned. A bigger one had been created, where Hannah had put the remains of the Djinmok. Goss was staring at it, thoughtful. I still don’t know what to think of that. he commented. Why did you put a grave for it too?

“Because he’s dead.” Hannah replied simply.

But then… why did you keep his face? using his front paw, Goss pointed at the Djinmok’s head posed next to a tree, just in front of them. The creature’s face had been carved off and was resting on the ground like an abandoned mask.

Hannah sighed. “I like masks.” she admitted. “Back in my place, I used to take drama lessons. We had that one course about carving a personalized wooden mask and using it to ‘mold our personas’, teacher said.”

Ah. So… You felt nostalgic?

“That, and I don’t want anyone to see my stupid face.” Hannah added bitterly. She approached the mask, taking it in her hands. She had reshaped the triangular spots of the Djinmok into roughly circular spots, and had added a third one below, in accordance to the first wooden mask she had created.

Hannah, I–

“Hanabi.”

Goss gazed upward, looking at his mistress with confused eyes.

“Hanabi.” she repeated. “Hanabi d’Apocrea. That’s my name here, and I’d prefer it if you called me that. Hannah doesn’t have what it means to deal with this place. She died along with it. So, I’ll take her place.” with that said, Hanabi put on the mask, grabbed her darkened cloak and put it on as well. She looked down. The cloak smelled of cinder.

Okay. Goss said. Hanabi, then. How are you feeling?

“You can read my mind.” Hanabi replied. “Can’t you tell?”

It’s more complicated than that. There’s a lot I need you to explain.

“…Right. You mentioned that before. Um… Thanks, by the way. Without you, I’d be dead, and if not dead, probably insane.”

A little chuckle invaded Hanabi’s mind. Looking at you now, you look like you’re insane anyway. And you know… thank you for answering my call. Without you, I’d be dead, too. Body… and soul.

Hanabi smiled under her mask and picked her familiar, pulling him into a hug. “Sorry for the grim getup.” she whispered. “But it… I swear it helps.”

Making this graveyard already did. I’ll trust your methods, Hanabi. I’ll explain you everything now, okay? Just li-

“Who’s…! Who’s there?!”

Hanabi performed a rapid turnabout, her cloak floating behind as she tried to scan the area. Goss moved on her left shoulder, sniffing the air.

You may have not noticed, but we’ve spent hours building this graveyard. Goss informed. We must already be at the end of the afternoon. As for our mysterious guest, he’s a human being. Probably from the village near the forest.

“There’s a… Darn it, he probably–”

You can talk to me with your mind, by the way. I’d rather not have people thinking that you talk to yourself.

Good point. Hanabi approved. That guy probably saw the fire and waited to go check what happened. What do we do?

Well, you mentioned drama lessons earlier, and a character you created for yourself. I believe this would be the moment to improvise.

Are you kidding?! I look like a perfectly suspicious witch!

But I can’t speak to other humans. And… I don’t look reassuring either now, I’m a flaming corpse!

The duo’s short-lived dispute was quickly interrupted by the appearance of a young boy, around her age. He was wearing blue dungarees, a white shirt, an oversized straw hat and had a shovel as a weapon.
If Hanabi hadn’t recently lived through her horrible experience, she’d call the boy the most clichéd villager she’d ever seen and angrily tell him that she would’ve really needed that shovel a few hours earlier.

“Who… Who are you?” the young boy inquired, his shovel trembling in his hands. “What are you doing here?”

Improvising… Right. I can do that! I’m Hanabi d’Apocrea! with this thought in mind, Hanabi straightened herself. Goss, think you can growl a bit?

A resounding growl came from the fiery fox as he glared at the newcomer, who took a slight step back, visibly afraid.

“At ease, Goss.” Hanabi exclaimed in the deep, serious voice she always took when performing as her dramatic alter-ego. “He is certainly not an enemy, and truth to be told, it is possible that we appear to be enemies here.” Goss’ menacing growl immediately stopped. Hanabi took a calm step forward and performed a graceful bow before the boy. “Greetings. I am a Harvester from the Apocrean Garden, a faraway realm the likes of which there is little chance you’ve ever seen. You may refer to me as Hanabi. May I please have your name?”

“Uh… Thomas.” The boy replied, his voice trembling as much as his body. “My name’s Thomas.”

“Very well. Forgive me for frightening you, Thomas. I once again insist that I mean you and this world no harm. I was sent by a higher authority to investigate a little… incident.” Uh… Djinmok?

Djinmok, yes. A strange one, too.

Hanabi pointed at the Djinmok’s head she had abandoned on the side. “Do you have any idea what that creature is?”

Thomas carefully approached Hanabi and gazed down. His eyes immediately widened. “Y-Yes! Yes, that’s… the Djinmok! It’s a cursed creature that sometimes haunts Lavendurbs!”

“Lavendurbs?” Hanabi repeated.

“Forests of trees with lavender leaves.” Thomas explained. “There’s a ton of them around, they’re really common, and they’re usually so big they can rival small city. This one’s gotten a lot smaller because this Djinmok was destroying trees and…” Thomas’ eyes became sorrowful. “…And kills… anyone that comes near it. We’ve been trying to stop it for weeks, but…”

Hanabi’s lips trembled. That gaze was a perfect reflection of her state of mind a few hours ago. Without thinking, she put an appeasing hand on Thomas’ shoulder. “I see.” she said. “I see that, despite your age, you’re acquainted with death. Please, do not worry anymore. Your information has proven useful, for you have just confirmed that the creature I was forced to put down was indeed the very same that caused you misery.”

Thomas lifted his head, staring at Hanabi with amazement. “You… You killed the Djinmok?”

“Yes. It was rampaging across the forest, and eventually came to me as I arrived in this realm. I was forced to fight back, but in the heat of the battle, a forest fire begun. I did everything I could to put an end to it…” she sidestepped, pointing at the graveyard. “…But not without casualties.”

“Casualties? So… there were other people in there?”

“Not humans, no. But animals and trees. Things that human need, directly or indirectly, to survive and thrive. This is why I took the time to elevate a Garden of Memories for them. Which I assume your people call a graveyard.”

“Y-yeah.”

“As I thought. At any rate, I am still a stranger to this world’s customs and culture, and I have much to learn. Is your village accustomed to welcome strangers? I would like to inform them of the Djinmok’s demise.”

A smile immediately made its way on Thomas’ face. “Oh! Yes! Of course! Uh, I mean, I’m sure the village’s mayor should be able to help you until we figure out… something. Uh, where did you say you came from again?”

“The Apocrean Garden. Though I doubt anyone from this land has ever heard of it. I crossed a magic portal to come in and begin my investigation, if it helps.”

“Well, I don’t know anything about that, but there’s some mages at the palace who could probably tell you things about that, they're really knowledgeable. Uh, mayor first, though.”

“Of course. Lead the way, Thomas.”

Thomas turned back and walked out of the glade, Hanabi right next to him.

Well… That wasn’t so bad. Hanabi thought, her stress going away as she walked.

…Hannah, that was AMAZING.

Ha…Na…Bi.

Sorry, I’m sorry, but… It was. Maybe we should’ve practiced drama instead of making that graveyard, because it looks like it helps you a lot!

…Maybe. But I didn’t feel like it. And you know, it’s a good thing we did that. I’ll try to make a habit out of it. You said that the fire earlier wasn’t supposed to happen, right?

Yes. Your magic powers are linked to your emotions. But your power isn’t one to go berserk: it should turn off should you lose control, because if you can’t control yourself, you can’t control your non-sentient servants. That, and you were still in control when you arrived through the portal. It’s like… Something immediately unlocked your potential. It’s strange.

Okay. And… The Djinmok?

It’s a bit of a long story, but it seemed to target ME, specifically. Which is not supposed to happen either.

We’ll figure this out after all this. Let’s focus for now, okay?

Of course.

Hanabi nodded to herself, satisfied. She blinked, and a distant flash of animals burning in front of her appeared in her mind. She smiled. They would probably never disappear. The cries, the fire, the Djinmok's cry. They'd probably remain as distant voices in her head tormenting her every time she moved. But she was Hanabi d’Apocrea. The dead was to be harvested, and they were nothing more than friendly companions. She would be fine.

Alec had never felt smaller than when he entered the kingdom. Right from the start, the massive drawbridge, followed by the 30 foot iron grates, dwarfed Alec and Blake. Upon entering, a large pathway led through the outer wall into the center of the kingdom, where a busy city of wood and straw and stone huts lay. The farther in you were, the more complex architecture there was. After a few minutes, the two boys had reached what could be considered the 'rich district'.

On each side of them, tall stone complexes containing what appeared to be individual homes. Balconies reached out above the mossy stone path they and many others walked on. Across the path, hanging from high windows, were clotheslines, and draped over them were examples of common medieval attire.

Around them, the citizens glanced uneasily at their clothes. Alec's green hoodie was alien to them, and the jeans each boy donned only confused each passerby more. A pair of patrolling soldiers stopped them to interrogate.

“You boys... You're not from around here, are you?” Said one of them, on the left.

Alec shook his head. “No, we live in a small town outside the kingdom. Our eldest brother is sick, and we were sent here to fetch a doctor, assuming he has the ability to cure this specific illness.”

Blake glanced at him, surprised, and a little doubtful. However, the two guards clearly hadn't heard of a plot cliché, and they bought the story. “Oh, I see. Would you like us to bring you to the doctor? You seem very lost.”

“Yes, please do,” Blake asked politely. The two guards led them down the path a few feet before turning left and climbing a stairwell. They followed the corridor, and then they stopped before a small back alley doorway.

“Through here is the best doctor in the kingdom. I hope she can cure your brother.” The guards nodded and marched off, back the way they came. Alec and Blake stared at the oak door in front of them, contemplating what to do. They didn't need a doctor, but if the guards caught them not in the doctor's office, they may get suspicious.

Blake began to back away, and Alec was following, when the door opened. A woman in her early thirties stood within the doorway. She had short blonde hair in a bun held up on her head, and a short white coat covered her back and shoulders. A white skirt hung down to her knees, and white boots climbed up her shins. But her most noticeable feature was her bright green eyes. They almost seemed to give off a light, and they were a deep green, without brown or gold mixed in. A pure, perfect green.

“May I help you with anything?”

Blake opened his mouth, but had no response prepared. “We were just exploring the town. We're new here. Supposedly a renowned doctor worked here, so we checked the place out, in case we get sick,” Alec said.

“Oh, I'm sure you've heard of the Emerald Doctor. You can call me Althea. Everyone seems to think I'm something special. I'm not a great doctor, but since I have healing magic, they all flock to me when ill. But yes, if you ever need my assistance, I can help. In fact, inside here is a small hospital.” She stepped aside and let them see inside, where they glimpsed a row of beds, some occupied, some not. “Need anything, you know where to go.” She waved them farewell and closed the door.

“That was... interesting.” Alec said uneasily.

“Glad she didn't catch us lying.”

Alec nodded. “We need to make sure that doesn't happen again. Not sure how yet. Working on that.”

“We'll need medieval clothes. And I think I know where we can get them,” Blake claimed, looking at the end of the corridor, where spare clothes hung on a line. He cautiously approached, and off the line he pulled a leather vest and a pair of cotton pants. Slipping them on over his clothes, he began complaining how hot they were, but Alec paid him no heed. Instead, he grabbed similar attire, slipping it on. The difference was they were a lot lighter than Blake's, and he actually was kind of cold. On the line was a white jacket which looked familiar. Alec took it and threw it over his shoulders, and it nearly reached his feet.

“What do you think you're doing?” Said a voice behind them, and they spun around hastily. Behind them was Althea, her hand on her hips accusingly.

The feeling of the cool wind brushing his cheeks was one that he was grateful for. Though none knew it, he abhorred hot days. They were a painful reminder of a past that he had left behind. The smell of the recent rain – for a storm had just passed – made him smile as he made his way through the streets of the kingdom that he know called his home. Several of the people he passed waved and greeted him, but he could sense the tension growing. He was relieved that he was wearing his armor; like his father, he worried that someone would soon snap and try to eliminate the influence they had on the kingdom.

He glanced back at the castle. He hoped that the day that he would be in charge of the kingdom was far off, but he knew that it would eventually come. He didn't even know if he wanted to remain king once he assumed the throne. Would his father be disappointed in him if he gave in to the demands for a democracy?

His attention returned to the streets as the sound of someone running over to him reached his ears. An oddly familiar boy ran into him. The two went tumbling to the ground. Cial rushed to get to his feet, noticing that the boy was being followed by another teenage boy and Althea. From the look on her face, the two had been up to no good.

“Prince Cial!” Althea exclaimed upon noticing who had joined them. “I caught these two boys stealing the clothes they're currently wearing.”

Cial looked the two of them over. In response, the boy who had ran into him promptly stuck his tongue out. The prince resisted the urge to return the gesture, knowing that it wouldn't be a proper response to the situation. Instead, he quickly glanced at the clothing they wore. It was the sight of their shoes that made his eyes widen in shock. They were both wearing sneakers. Even more, the boy sticking his tongue out was wearing a pair of old Nikes. Those were from Earth. Did it mean that these two were from there too?

“Prince Cial,” Althea impatiently said.

He needed to focus on the situation. He noticed that there was an old notebook laying the ground. At the same time, the boy with tongue did too. He reached down to grab it, but Cial picked it up first. The writing on the front had become too faded to read, and it was filled with countless loose pieces of paper.

“Give that back.”

Cial looked up at the boy. His fists were clenched in what he guessed was anger, and there was a familiar fire burning his equally familiar eyes. His gaze returned to the notebook. His heart skipped a beat as a startling realization began to emerge. It couldn't be him, could it? He had died in the fire so many years ago. That was the reality that he had clung to; then it didn't hurt to leave his old life behind.

“I said,” the boy growled, taking a menacing step closer to him, “give that back.”

The other boy looked uncomfortable. “I think he's royalty,” he nervously tried to point out, but the familiar boy didn't move.

“He is,” Althea added. “His name is Prince Cial, and if you hurt him, the whole kingdom will be after you.”

Cial held the notebook away from him, but also took a step even closer. They were right in each other's faces. “Tell me your name and I'll return it.” It wasn't the most diplomatic thing to do, but this situation was an exception.

Flames suddenly burst from the ground. Cial took a startled step back as the fire began to build up even more, clutching the old journal to his chest. Because that was it was – the uncontrolled Elemental magic confirmed the theory he had been creating since he learned that magic existed.

The magic's owner looked horrified at the sight of the fire. He tried to take a step back, only to realize that the flame had surrounded him.

Cial summoned his magic. A flood of water bombarded the boy and his fire, dousing the latter and leaving the former looking both very confused and very wet.

A second later – much to the confusion of all the bystanders – Cial rushed over to the boy and pulled him into a tight embrace. “I can't believe you're alive, Blake!”

He blinked from behind the bangs sticking to his forehead. When understanding suddenly dawned on him, his face lit up like it had whenever Cial would sneak him a bar of chocolate. “Percival?!” Blake exclaimed. The prince eagerly nodded. “I can't believe it! I thought that you looked familiar!”

Another ring of fire began to shoot out of the ground, but Cial quickly doused them. Blake watched him do so with wonder on his face. “Magic's real,” he hurriedly explained. God, there was so much he needed to tell his best friend! Where was he supposed to begin?

“Uh, Blake?” the unnamed boy asked. “How do you know the prince?”

Althea crossed her arms. “And how do you know that thief, Prince Cial?”

“We're childhood best friends,” the two replied in unison as they pulled away, only to look at each other and grin moments later. It had been so long since he had seen Blake. It was strange seeing him suddenly so much older. So much – though it was highly unlikely from the tongue earlier – more mature. And far more attractive than he had remembered.

Ignoring the blood rushing to his cheeks, Cial held out the journal to him. Blake shook his head. “It's yours,” he objected. “I just added to your notes on ancient Egypt and stuff...” His face red, he pointed at the other boy. “That's Alec. He's from Earth, too.”

Cial smiled at him. “It's nice to meet you.” He looked over at Althea. “If you tell me the names of the clothes' owners, I'll send compensation for the loss.”

Althea informed him of their names.

His attention returned to Blake and Alec. “In the meanwhile, I'll escort the two of you to the castle. I'm sure that my father will want to hear about how you got here.”