Memory Charmer 2j3x36

The Stregoni Sequence, Book II:

MEMORY CHARMER

Christine E. Schulze

For Sascha, who wanted to be Wind at first but makes a beautiful Night.

“You showed me the perfect kind of love, the kind that takes self-sacrifice.”

PART 1: THE BOY NEXT DOOR

The basement was completely finished, so it didn’t matter that he hardly ever allowed her upstairs. Living downstairs with the butterfly and celestial decorations scattered in an artsy, mismatched sort of way was like dwelling in her own private, personalized home, a special corner of the house all to herself. But it wasn’t a home. It was a prison. She stood very still against the door-frame, taking shallow breaths. Edging as close as possible to the doorway without being seen, she remained motionless and silent as a shadow, listening to the voices at the top of the stairs. He—the Musician—spoke with the new family in his song-like, alluring voice. He often rented out the extra cottage on his land, and finally, after so many months, had found a new, interested family. Why he’d chosen them, of all people, she could not tell. His house, as well as the extra cottage, stood several miles from the capital of Lisallight, heavily secluded deep in the woods. Shadows and secrets shrouded his life, and he preferred it that way. So why did he rent the house to the one family who knew his most-kept secret—her existence in his basement? The boy. The boy knew. The boy had caught a glimpse of her through the window, on the day she’d left the blinds open. How could she have been so foolish? How angry the Musician had been upon finding out. Though not present at the time, he’d still known. He always knew things, like how the boy had stared, trying to catch a better look at her through the window, perhaps trying to understand what she was; her long, dark blue curls and fair blue skin were certainly a strange appearance to anyone who was new to the area and unfamiliar with the forest peoples. After that incident, the Musician had neither spoken nor acted harshly toward her again. At least, she didn’t think he had. She stifled a frustrated sigh, fearful of making the slightest sound. ing anything at all was so difficult. She wasn’t sure whether this was the work of the Musician’s magic house or of his own dark magic. At any rate, she somehow knew that he often manipulated her mind. She wasn’t sure how she knew, but she did. He robbed her of memories of things he’d done, memories he perhaps thought too horrible for her to .

Her memories snatched away, she could only trust her feelings. Yet that could be worse—feelings of guilt, shame, and fear lingering in her heart without her having any clue why. She formed suspicions, yet she dared not let those fully take shape in her mind either. Sometimes, she already felt on the brink of madness from not knowing why such strong feelings shrouded her heart and clouded her mind. Well, she did know, in part. It was because the Musician was there, always there, always waiting for...whatever it was he expected of her...if only she could ...even though something in the back of her mind urged her not to , as it was too horrible... “Yes, well, I’m very glad to do business with you, sir,” the Musician said then to the father of the family. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy your summer stay at the cottage. The forest is gorgeous this time of year.” She shuddered, fearing and praying that the new family might not do anything against his pleasing. After all, such beautiful trees and flowers had been known to grow suddenly poisonous or worse when past renters did something to dissatisfy him. “And thank you, sir,” the father returned. “My family and I look forward to a relaxing vacation here in Lisallight.” “I can think of no place better for you to have come.” “Thank you again, sir, for all your hospitality.” “Certainly. May I see you and your family to the door?” Footsteps sounded above. She tried to quiet her already shallow breath even more. “Wait.” Her heart skipped a beat as the boy spoke. It must be his voice, for it sounded younger but similar to his father’s, slightly deep, just on the borderline of morphing from a boy’s into a man’s. “Sir, if I may ask...I saw a girl through your window one day. I apologize for

spying, only I was hoping there might be someone my age I could play with?” “Ah, my cousin, Elissa. Yes, she visits here sometimes, but I’m afraid she won’t be back till next summer, young man.” Her heart trembled again. Why did he give the boy her real name? “What a pity. She was very pretty and—” The boy’s speech abruptly stopped. She imagined a sharp look from the boy’s father and could’ve laughed—under different circumstances. More polite words of parting were exchanged. The footsteps faded, and the door closed. Silence. And waiting. Fleeing to her room, she sat on the bed, stiff, frightened, waiting. Waiting for what? She always felt like she was waiting and fearing, though she never knew why. She just couldn’t ... The silence deafened. Until the soft thud of footsteps shattered that quiet with their symbolical thunder. Her fear intensified. The one thing she knew was that those footsteps were the Musician’s; he was coming, closer, closer, closer... And then he stood in her doorway, smiling, his perfectly calm, bright green eyes twinkling at her. He stood with a tall, quietly proud stance, tucking his shoulderlength blonde hair behind one ear before casually crossing his arms. He looked so perfect, but she knew by now that that perfection was a facade. “Well, sweetheart, we’ve done it. We’ve rented out the cottage.” “Good for you,” she said quietly. “I think this calls for a bit of celebration, don’t you?” He walked slowly forward. She focused her gaze straight at the blank wall ahead, keeping perfectly still and poised, hands crossed in her lap. “Don’t you?” The Musician hovered right over her, casting an ominous shadow.

Suddenly, she knew the reason for her fear, even though she still couldn’t properly . She didn’t need to . He was the living nightmare. He was fear itself. He was power and strength and control and desire. He cupped her face in his hands, forcing her gaze to meet his. At first, he touched her gently. A false gentleness. She began to tremble, and he stroked her hair. Then, his grasp tightened, and she was only weakness and fear and loss of all control. She needed no memory as this fear, so old and yet so new all at once, overtook her once more. He held her face firmly in his hands, and his gaze burned deeply into hers. As his magic emanated from his body into hers, she felt her energy slowly slipping away. She grew weaker and weaker as he forced it from her like the greediest incubus. As he drained her energy, a burning, intolerable pain snared her, gripped every fiber of her being, yet he’d bewitched her so that she could neither cry out nor move an inch. She felt like she would explode inside, yet she could do nothing to relieve it herself. Even though she couldn’t the last time, she knew what was to come next—she would soon out, the pain too much to bear— She screamed loudly within her mind as the pain overwhelmed, and then all went black. ~*~*~*~ She lay on her back, staring at the white ceiling. If only her mind could become just as empty. What bliss it must be to feel absolutely nothing. She knew what had happened, even if she couldn’t anything but him standing in her doorway and approaching with hungry eyes. She used to be unable to even that much, but maybe she was growing a bit immune to his magic, or maybe he just no longer cared as much about concealing the truth. Why did he use magic to make her forget anyway? He had grown lazy enough to no longer prevent the throbbing headaches caused by his magic. Was he so warped as to think himself a noble kidnapper by making her forget all the torturous things he did to her? Or did he realize the extra power he wielded in seizing her memories and instilling that fear of the unknown? For though she had some clue of how he tortured her mind, she could never be entirely certain

of what went on between them. Sometimes, she felt glad she didn’t know. Other times, she thought knowing might make the overwhelming fears more bearable. Unable to sleep, as always after he’d visited her, she sat up, slipped silently from bed, and made her way down the hall. She paused before ing in front of the doorway leading upstairs. Though she knew he was likely asleep in his bedroom upstairs at the far end of the cottage, she always paused here to listen for his snoring, just to be sure. Upon hearing it, she stole past the doorway and tip-toed to the sliding glass door leading from the living room out into the backyard. She opened the door very slowly and just enough to slip through before closing it behind her. She deeply inhaled the cool, night air. The gentle, sweet scent of the small moon-blossom bush wafted up to her. This was the one place where she could feel safe and free, if only for a little while. A place so close to the house, yet it seemed so far away. Tall stone walls surrounded the back yard on all three sides, but the back wall was constructed of two tiers so that she could’ve easily climbed out—not that she’d get far. She’d tried that only once, and the consequences had proved severe… His guard, a giant tarantula, had appeared from nowhere and scooped her up in large, hairy legs, its cruel fangs gleaming at her. It had wrapped all but her head in strong, unbreakable spider silk and strung her from the single tree in the backyard. Then the beast had just stood there, watching. She’d never been more terrified in her entire life—at least, not until the Musician had strolled out. He’d walked with his usual calm, proud gait. But such a fury had shone in his eyes like none she’d ever seen. “You are dismissed, Nargog,” he’d hissed. Shrinking to the size of an ordinary house spider, the guard had crawled into the depths of the tree’s branches. The Musician had cut her down from the tree with a swipe of his hand, as if wielding an invisible sword. After she’d fallen roughly to the ground, he’d released her bonds, all except her hands which he’d kept bound together firmly with the spider’s silk.

He’d knelt low over her then, his golden hair brushing her face, his eyes like deep, unbearable shadows as he hissed, “May that teach you not to defy me ever again. If you do, I will let him do much worse to you. Have you learned your lesson?” She’d nodded, shaking all over, unable to say anything, knowing somehow what was coming: “No,” he had whispered, his voice low, menacing, almost like a growl, “I don’t think you quite have…” Closing her eyes, she placed a hand upon her yet dully throbbing head. She didn’t want to what had happened after he’d spoke those words, nor the way his voice had tingled on her neck like a deceptively gentle breeze before the most furious of storms... Running her fingers along the bark of the immense tree, she glanced up at the branches, something she now did out of mere habit. After that night, she’d stared upon the tree in terrified paranoia many nights before realizing that the spider’s only purpose was to assure she did not escape. Unless she tried to do so again, he would not appear. She sat upon the lower tier of the back wall. How frustrating, to be so close to freedom and yet know that if she dared climb a few more steps, she’d be caught, punished, imprisoned all over again— She gasped and froze rigid as she heard leaves rustle. Her gaze snapped immediately to the tree, but it lay still. Her glance skirted then to the trees and bushes above, along the top of the wall; the woods surrounded the house very closely. One of the bushes moved, and then— “Whoa!” She sprang up as someone fell, toppling over the bushes and the wall, and landed hard, face-down inside the yard. Racing over, she knelt beside him with a gasp. It was the boy who’d spied her through her window, who’d spoken so boldly to the Musician today. The boy sat up on his knees, groaning.

“Are you all right?” she asked, reaching out her hand, wanting very much to touch him but then hesitating. Already her gaze roamed nervously about the yard, to the second story window. What if he’d heard when the boy fell? What would he do to the boy? “Sure, I’m—” The boy stopped to stare at her. “It’s you,” he said, “You’re Mr. Crowder’s cousin.” She smiled dryly, helping him to his feet. “He’s not my cousin.” “He’s not?” the boy asked, wincing as he hopped up to sit beside her on the stone wall. “No,” she said, and then, wishing she’d kept silent about it, “Look, are you okay? That was quite a fall.” “Just bruised, I think. But if he’s not your cousin, then what are you—?” “His ward,” she answered darkly. “His...ward?” he said slowly. “What’s that supposed to mean? I thought there was something weird going on here...” She studied him. Concern shone in his eyes now. Whatever he was, besides incredibly handsome with his dark hair and dark eyes that twinkled as though stars shone within them, he certainly wasn’t stupid. The boy’s gaze narrowed, and a frown tugged at his lips. “What has he done to you?” “Why do you care so much?” she whispered. “You could get yourself in so much trouble, and you don’t even know me.” He smiled. “I’ve watched you more than once, you know. I know you better than you think.” She was unsure whether or not to be angry by such an invasion of privacy. First

the Musician, now this boy... He continued, “There was the time I watched you at your window, but mostly, I watch when you come here in the back yard. You always look so lost and longing, like you don’t quite know who you are or where you belong, but you don’t belong here, and you want nothing more than to leave. The first night I saw you, you were crying, and so I kept coming back to check on you. I wanted to talk to you, but I didn’t know if that would cause more trouble for you than whatever trouble you already had. But now, here I am, and I suppose if my fall didn’t wake him up...” Taking the boy’s hand, she assured him quietly yet with all the meaning in the world, “Even if he did hear, it’s worth it to me, I promise you.” Realizing what she’d done, she quickly tried to recoil her hand. In a flash, he snatched it back, holding it gently but securely. “It’s okay. I understand. You’ve been waiting for so long for someone to reach out to, someone to touch, anything that shows that someone, anyone, truly cares, that your life isn’t just a vain waste of time in this house...” Her breath quickened as she stared into his eyes. It was as though he spoke not only directly to her heart, but from it. How could he understand her so well? As if reading her thoughts, he smiled broadly. “I too have been lonely a long time.” “But at least you have your parents,” she said quietly. He shook his head. “They’re not.” She stared at him, silently prompting him to elaborate. “Not my parents,” he said. She frowned, even more perplexed. “Well, that makes two of us with a secret.” “You’re right,” he sighed. “And I owe you an explanation after the risk I’m putting you through in being here. Besides, it’s not as though I think you’ll tell my secret to anyone.”

She laughed softly. “No one to tell except the spiders.” He nodded and smiled back. “All right. Well, the three of us were sent here, to the Below of Lisallight—” “The ‘Below’?” “Patience, I’m getting to it. Yes, you see, all three of us, we’re from the Above, from the sky, because, well…there’s no careful way to put this, so I’ll just come right out with it: we’re Stars. We’re all three of us Stars.” She stared skeptically, almost wanting to laugh at how ridiculous his words sounded. “Stars?” she echoed. “You mean, like twinkling stars, shooting stars, stars in the sky?” “Stars, yes.” He itted it so matter-of-factly, with no hint of deceit on his face, that she assumed he must be telling the truth, or else he was just mad enough to believe he did. Either way, his intention was not to deceive her. “But how?” She shook her head, trying to fathom the possibility of such nonsense. “How’d you get down here? To the ‘Below’, as you call it?” He shrugged. “Just as you said, by becoming ‘shooting’ Stars. That’s what a shooting Star is, you know—a Star traveling to the Below.” He explained it all so casually that she could only stare all the more. If he was just toying with her, he certainly hid it skillfully. Bizarre as it was, she found herself already beginning to believe in him. Perhaps because she’d had no one to believe in for so long, and perhaps she was a fool to do so now. But somehow, she couldn’t help it with him. “Well...why are you here then?” she asked. “In the Below, I mean.” “We’re looking for a new Night,” he said. When she continued to gaze in total confusion, he sighed deeply and said, “Sorry, all of this is so common to me that I can forget what mortals like yourself don’t know. Let me try to explain..

“See, I’m sure you’ve heard the ‘legends’ of Bienvinette being an Elemental land. That means it’s governed and protected by Elemental Guardians. None of this is legend. It’s all true, and the Night we have now, she’s dying—fast. If she dies, and there’s no more Night…you can imagine the confusion and trouble that would cause for the inhabitants of Bienvinette. And we Stars would have to sleep forever. So, several of us Stars were sent to the Below to search for a new Night. Because there’s only two ways for a new Elemental to be chosen—either one of their children must become their successor, or else an Elemental must marry a mortal, and that mortal can then also become an Elemental. Night has no children to inherit her crown and responsibilities. So that leaves things to those of us seeking companionship; several of us came down seeking a wife—or a husband, as the case may be. Whoever finds a willing companion can then appoint him or her as the new Night.” “And, umm, this current Night...how much time does she have left?” He shook his head. “Hard to say exactly. We’ve been searching a couple of weeks, but now I’d say a few days at best. That’s why we have to hurry. If we don’t find a new Night soon, then once the current Night is no more, the Stars will all sleep, and then, who will find the new Night? Day and Sun won’t do it, as they’ll be glad to have total reign of the sky. Wind is so concerned in her own affairs, and she’s too childish and playful for marriage yet, I think. Moon might be able to do it, I guess. Still, we’re hoping that with several of the Stars searching, someone will find her—or him,” he added quickly, glancing away. He’d stared intently at her up till this point, and now she felt glad that, whoever this Night was, her darkness concealed her blushing. She knew what he was thinking, what he had implied, and felt suddenly very shy in his presence. But then she began to think. It would’ve seemed a bold suggestion, even absurd, since they’d just met, but now that she understood his situation, it didn’t seem so. Accepting his offer might really not be so bad. Already, they shared some connection in that they were both lonely, seeking companionship. He certainly seemed sincere, and even if he wasn’t, if he really took her to the sky, at least she’d be far away from the Musician... Becoming Night sounded like a huge responsibility, yet wasn’t that also what she’d been hoping for? To discover some purpose besides just the daily survival she’d come to call living? Maybe this was meant to be. Maybe Amiel had heard her prayers at last, and this opportunity was His answer.

Her hand crept along the wall to take his as she dared to whisper, “I’m willing to do it, you know. If you can get me out of here, if you can save me from him, I’ll save you and the other Stars.” His gaze widened and met hers. He seemed to study her uncertainly, cautiously, but with a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “Are you sure? I understand it’s really weird because we just met...” She smiled. “It’s me who should be telling you that. It’s probably the reaction all the others Stars will get in looking for spouses, you know.” He nodded. “You have a point. But why do you..?” “Don’t you think I’d risk everything to get away from this, from him?” Her voice trailed into a whisper as she spoke of the Musician, and she glanced away, not wanting the boy to see her pain. He squeezed her hand, promising, “I’m not like that, you know—like him. I would never want you to be terrified of me like that, or make you do anything you don’t want—” “I want to do this.” She looked up at him again, surprising herself at the confidence in her voice. “This may be the only chance I have to escape, but…” She cast an uneasy glance at the tree. “What is it?” he whispered, as if sensing the abrupt need for quiet. “I tried to escape once before,” she breathed. “He caught me almost instantly...” “If you were Night, you’d possess new powers, speed being one of them. And there would be my speed as well, as a Star. Only you’d have to agree to become Night before we left here, because only Night has the power to return the Stars to the Above, and returning to the Above is the only way we could truly escape.” “I agree,” she said with a nod. “Then I will send word to our current Night, and then I will return for you tomorrow. We’ll have to perform the wedding and appointment ceremonies right

here. I’ll bring the two other Stars as witnesses—” He stopped short and laughed. “What is it?” she asked, smiling as his eyes danced. “I just realized—you just accepted a marriage proposal from a man whose name you don’t even know.” She chuckled. “I must be more desperate than I thought.” He laughed again, and the laughter shone in his star-lit eyes. “Well, Lady Elissa —that is your real name?” She nodded. “Well, Lady Elissa, tis an honor to meet you. I’m James-Star. But you can call me ‘James,’ of course.” Knowing his name filled her with a smile from the inside out. “James...” He nodded. “Well, then, my lady, I must needs be off until tomorrow. There’s much to discuss with the other Stars, much to plan. I’ll return for you here tomorrow night.” She nodded, and he stood on the inner wall, helping her to her feet. As they stood close, an unusual heat blazed from his skin. His gaze burned brightly and deeply into hers, setting her heart aflame with the promise he need not speak. He would return, for a new ember already grew in his gleaming eyes, a spark of new affection for the one he’d chosen as his wife. He leaned his face toward hers— She placed a finger to his lips, stopping him. “Not here,” she whispered. “If he sees...” “Let him see,” he said fearlessly, and a thrill raced through her. “Soon, he will not be able to stand against your power, when you are Night.” “But I am not yet,” she reminded gently.

“No.” He shook his head. “But soon, and then...then I may kiss you every night, if it so pleases you.” She smiled. “It would please me very much.” “Til tomorrow then,” he promised, kissing her hand. With a final, reassuring look, he scaled the wall, sprinting noiselessly into the woods. For a moment, she could only stare at the place where he had disappeared. He’d gone as quickly as he’d come. Was it all real? Was James-Star real? Did he really promise to take her away from the torture that was her existence? Was his promise truly sincere? Even if it wasn’t, the hope he’d given her was enough to allow her to sleep through one more night here. She hopped down from the wall, casting a wary glance at the tree as she ed by, wondering if the spider slept, if it acted as a spy or just as a guard. Hopefully, his only purpose was to keep her in, not others out. Slipping inside, she locked the door and crept back to her room, snuggling beneath the covers. This time, sleep came easily to her. Her heart, stricken with the coldness of fear for too long, at last nestled in a secure warmth as she thought of James-Star. She would soon dance in his arms, in the sky, far from where anyone could harm her ever again. ~*~*~*~ The next day ed with a painful sluggishness. The Musician made a trip into town; such trips were one of the few times she felt free to roam the entire house on her own. She was always free to go upstairs and fix herself something to eat, to fiddle with one of the Musician’s many musical instruments, or to borrow a book from his library. He’d given her permission to do all these things in his presence, but she avoided coming upstairs at all costs when he was home. Because… She wouldn’t think about all of that. She wished only to think of James-Star and of the vow he would fulfill tonight, Amiel-willing. As late afternoon approached, the Musician still did not return. She crawled into bed to rest. She often felt tired; such a good sleep as last night’s wasn’t often

granted her. She didn’t wish to sleep now, didn’t want to accidentally miss James if he came early. If she could just rest a while... ~*~*~*~ She slowly woke as someone began shaking her. Thinking it must be her James, she smiled sleepily, but then the Musician’s stern voice stirred her from peaceful slumber and into a panic. “Wake up, my sweet. I have something I must show you.” Sitting up, she stared at the Musician in alarm. He never came into her room for any honorable purpose. Now, as he stood over her, his solemn gaze revealed a touch of fear, even urgency. She slipped from bed and followed him, gasping as she glanced out her window. Night shrouded the woods. What was the time? How long had she slept? Had she missed James-Star? Or did he wait outside for her right now, this very moment? She wanted so desperately to bolt for the door but knew she couldn’t in the Musician’s presence. As he led her upstairs, her heart pounded. Did he prepare some sort of trap? Did he somehow know about James? The troubled look in his eyes was so utterly out of place... He guided her into his room, to the balcony overlooking the backyard, and motioned to his telescope. “I have it positioned on the constellation Oronius. Take a look.” She glanced at him cautiously. “It’s okay,” he said quietly. “Just look, please.” His smile was strained; he tried very hard to keep his cool. As she gazed into the telescope and found Oronius, her heart nearly leapt up her throat. Drawing back, she stared at the Musician in wonder, whispering, “Oronius’s belt is gone.”

He nodded. “I’ve been watching the heavens for many years now. I know the signs. Do you know what this means, Elissa?” She only stared in silent surprise; he never used her name. Not that she knew anything of the signs anyway. He’d certainly never taken time to teach her anything, so she could only stare, unable to answer. Seeming to accept her silence as his answer, he explained, “It means danger. It means false friends, strangers who would seem safe but who mean to deceive...” In one lightning-swift moment, he towered over her, threatening quietly, “I think it means the three who just moved into the cottage next door. I think it means that boy. Do not go near any of them; do not speak to any of them.” She nodded, a horrid paranoia all the while racing through her mind: He knows, he knows, he knows... But he only said, “Come. I will escort you back to your room.” He led her with a gentle but firm hand on her shoulder from his room, through the sitting room, down the stairs. Once at her room, he stood in the doorway, watching as she walked slowly to her bed. His lingering presence cast a cold shadow over her heart, making it race with a foreboding fear. “I know.” Her body froze at the chilling declaration. “Nargog told me. Told me the boy came to see you last night. Told me you mean to escape with him.” Her heart began beating faster again, ferociously. Terror chained her body, rendering it immobile. “Do you forget who takes care of you, who owns you, who warned you what would happen if you tried to get away? Do you really think you have the power to stop me?”

James-Star’s face flashed in Elissa’s memory, his eyes laughing and then imploring her to trust him. A bravery she had never known melted her fear, swelling inside her as she turned toward the Musician and answered quietly, “Yes. I do.” For a moment, shock gleamed in his bright green eyes. Then, rage leapt within them as he lunged at her, throwing her on the bed, forcing himself on top of her. He took her face in his hands, making her gaze into his eyes. She tried to wrench him off of her, but his strength overpowered her; his hands closed around her arms, fingertips boring into her skin like fiery claws. Vivid pain emanated from his hands, from his legs pinning her body to the bed, and especially from his hungry eyes whose dark power slowly drained her of all strength and energy with an even more impossible pain than ever before— Determination blazed within Elissa as James’ starlit gaze pleaded inside her memory. The Musician struggled to wipe this memory from her, but she resisted, fighting back with an before-unknown strength. Drawing up just enough willpower, she broke her gaze away from his and jerked her knee upward. As he recoiled, bent and groaning in pain, she leapt from the bed. “Witch!” He cast a ball of flame from curled fingers. It ricocheted off the door frame, narrowly missing her head, before dissipating in a puff of smoke. Elissa burst outside to find James-Star sitting on the lower wall, waiting for her. His gaze met hers, and he instantly sprang up, rushing to her. “Where is he? What did he do to you?” “He’s coming—” James-Star grabbed her and jerked her out of the way as a ball of flame zoomed toward them. Glancing up, she saw the Musician standing in the doorway, panting. A wild anger blazed like an inferno inside his eyes, as though he was infuriated at the thought of being defeated, outwitted, beaten at his own game of kidnapping. Suddenly, a wall of blue flame sprang up, separating them from the Musician. Elissa glanced up to see a man and woman standing along the top of the wall, glowing with a faint, blue light, eyes shimmering like blue embers. She knew they must be the two other Stars.

“We’ll deal with him,” the man declared. “Get her out of here and into the sky,” the woman commanded. With incredible speed, James lifted Elissa into his arms and sprang up the wall’s two tiers. Just as quickly, the spider Nargog towered over them, rearing and blocking their path to the woods. Elissa screamed in alarm, but the next moment, a ball of blue fire knocked the spider off his feet. He writhed in pain as the flames consumed him. James set Elissa on her feet, took her hand, and together they ran. “We need to perform the ceremonies,” James said, his voice smooth and clear, as if the running didn’t wind him at all. His feet lightly touched the ground, as though he floated with each step. “Here?” she panted, hardly able to match his quickening pace. “Now?” “We need to get you to the sky where it’s safe.” He presented a ring from his pocket, made of two entwined circles of golden and white flame. “Take it,” he said. “Don’t worry. It won’t burn you.” She clutched it firmly. The blazing ring felt warm but did not burn her skin. “Now,” he said, “you must repeat after me...” As they emerged into a wide, grassy field, he brought them to an abrupt halt and faced her. “I take you as my husband and promise to love you and cherish you for the rest of my life,” he said. “It’s a short version, I know, but it’ll work.” She nodded and repeated the words breathlessly, and then he said his own part. “Now what?” she asked. “Now,” he said, “we must exchange gifts. You first. You must give me the ring.” He held out his hand, and with trembling hands, she slipped the ring of white and gold flame onto his finger. “And now...”

He caressed her hair, and she trembled all the more as his eyes blazed with powerful ion. He kissed her, and his lips felt like fire, wonderful, glorious fire coursing through her entire body. His skin glowed with a sudden magnificence, and so did hers. The Stars in the sky gleamed as they rejoiced, stretching down bright rays to greet the new couple, to welcome them home. She could’ve remained lost in that kiss forever, but he finally pulled back. They stood gazing at one another other, skin and hair glowing, shimmering. She beamed a radiant smile, as did he. “We can have a proper wedding when we reach the heavens, if you like.” “No,” she assured him. “If you only kiss me like that each night, it will be enough—” Several balls of flame zoomed past, narrowly missing them. Elissa glanced back long enough to see the Musician racing through the fields after the two other Stars, throwing volleys of fire; the two Stars threw fire right back at him. James grabbed Elissa’s hand, and they ran once more. “Now what?” She realized that she no longer felt out of breath and could easily keep up with his incredible speed. “My magic is now one with yours,” he said. “That’s why you’re glowing. But in order for you to become Night and send us into the sky, I must give you this.” He held out his hand, and within appeared a crown that seemed to be made purely of silver and white rays of light; she wondered how he could even hold it. “The crown of starlight and moonlight,” he said. “You need only accept it to be made queen—” He glanced behind him. “They’re gaining. We’ll have to stop again and do it quickly.” As they halted once more, Elissa trembled with excitement. She already felt new power and life surging through her at having been made the wife of a Star, and now... “I crown you, Elissa, Night, Queen of the Above.”

Then the crown rested on her head, radiating warmth and authority through every inch of her body, into the greatest depths of her heart and soul. How proudly, reverently even, James smiled at her— “Go!” shouted the woman Star as she reached them. Somehow, Elissa knew what to do. She took the woman Star’s hand and flung her into the sky where she soared up toward the other Stars far above them. She hoisted the man up next, and he too shot up, reing his wife in Oronius’ belt. Suddenly, the Musician stood before Elissa. Anger glimmered in his eyes. She lifted her chin, staring back, and bewilderment flickered in his gaze. He knew he was defeated. For once, he could not win. For once, she held the power and always would from this point on. He let out a cry of rage and blasted a stream of fire at them, but in one, lightningswift moment, Elissa took James’ hand and soared with him up into the midnight sky. The Stars high above twinkled victoriously. Finally, freedom was hers. As they flew higher and higher into the wondrous peacefulness of the sky, she turned to James-Star, and he kissed her yet again. He kissed her with a kiss of fire, setting her heart ablaze and connecting their hearts with an eternal flame. It was a kiss that made all the Stars dance and rejoice as their new Queen ascended to their blissful throngs.

PART 2: THE STREGONI DIARIES

Entry 1, Cheryl’s Diary: A Trip

I was sick and tired of studying for finals. Running a hand through my dark, pixie-cut hair, I narrowed my eyes at the computer and then looked away, needing a break from it all before I went crazy. Instead, I faced my suitcases, all five of them stacked beside my closet door. I’d received a summer job in a little antique shop in Lisallight, the new city that had been built around the castle of Bienvinette—the kingdom once known as the Dark Enchantress’ Lamialle—and named in honor of the first honorable queen Bienvinette had known in over a thousand years. For nearly a week, I’d been packed and ready to go. Lisal had promised I could stay at the castle, so I was anxious for school to end and summer vacation to begin. I liked school well enough, but summer vacation sounded a lot better after so many grueling essays, especially if it included parties at a castle. After checking for the hundredth time that I’d packed all I would need for the three-month trip, I wandered down to Aaryn’s room. Aaryn sat at his computer, wearing wrinkled clothes from the day before, his black hair a mess. He was playing a game or chatting or whatever he did on that thing—composing a lovenote to Emma, perhaps—while Ferdinand sat on the bed, reading. At least, he pretended to read. As I leaned against the doorframe, a smile twitched at the corners of my lips, and I had to resist a laugh. Ferdinand’s dark brown eyes glanced up continuously from his book and about the room. His gaze clearly expressed agitation, and he kept shifting restlessly. Noting the woefully small patch of uncluttered floor near the bed, I knew instantly what had occurred. Aaryn had walked in on Ferdinand and caught him in the act of trying to clean and organize his room—again. This happened at least once a week, for while Aaryn and Ferdinand got along very well, they were total opposites when it came to keeping things tidy. Ferdinand

was very particular and couldn’t stand Aaryn’s “organized clutter,” while Aaryn became very irritated if he found so much as a dirty sock out of place, especially if it served as a book-marker for a favorite read. I wondered why Ferdinand didn’t just slip back to his own room if it bothered him so much. That’s what he usually did. Perhaps today he hoped—vainly—that Aaryn would leave just long enough for him to at least straighten the piles of books scattered across the floor. “Hey guys,” I greeted. Ferdinand jumped in surprise but then looked relieved that I had managed to avert his gaze from the mess, at least for a few moments. Setting his book down, he offered a small smile. “Hello, Cheryl.” “What’s’ up, Cher?” Aaryn swiveled in his chair to face me, his bright green eyes curious. “I just wanted to remind you that I’m leaving next Monday to go to Bienvinette. The invitation is still open.” Aaryn shook his head. “I can’t come then. But I’ll come along a couple days later.” “Date with Emma that week?” “Yep.” He shrugged, and I nodded. Emma was always his excuse for everything, from not mowing the yard to not washing the car—or cleaning his room. He seemed to always plan his dates with her very strategically, and Sylvia, his mother, often let him off the hook, glad to see how happy Emma made him. Before the lifting of the Vampiro Curse, it had been a long time since happiness had come easily to any of us. Being mortal now had its weaknesses, but it was a lot more peaceful than having to harness the powers of an immortal being while constantly resisting the dangerous urges accompanying that power.. Now, the greatest urge I felt from time to time was needing to sneeze or sneak into the kitchen for a midnight snack. How good it felt to need actual food again! “Oh,” Aaryn added, “Emma says she’d love to come, except she’s taking summer classes. She’ll probably come with us next year, though.”

I rolled my eyes. “She works herself too hard. She needs to have a little fun.” Aaryn shrugged again. “You know Emma. To her, school is fun, especially the World Music class she’ll be taking with her favorite teacher. Couldn’t talk her out of that one if you offered to actually fly her around the world, all expenses included.” I laughed and then turned to Ferdinand. “Well, what about you?” “Hm?” Ferdinand had returned to his book, though his gaze still didn’t move across the page. “Are you coming?” “Where?” He glanced up questioningly. “Um...Bienvinette?” Why did he act like he was really stupid or oblivious when he was actually the most observant, deep-thinking guy I knew? “Oh, I’ve decided to come with you,” he said with a shrug. “If that’s all right.” “Of course, silly. Why do you think I’ve been asking you for the past two weeks?” “Oh, of course...” He looked down as if suddenly very interested in his book again. One of those moments followed in which everyone in the room seemed to feel awkward—except Aaryn, who merely looked amused. As usual when he looked amused, I felt an urge to throw something at him. Alas, I held nothing, so I just glared. This, of course, amused him all the more, which of course increased my desire to throw things at him… “Well,” I said finally. “Gotta get back to my room—studying for finals, you know.” “Have fun with that,” Aaryn said, still smirking.

I narrowed my gaze critically. “Don’t you have something to do besides play around?” “Nope. Papers are done, and as for studying, well, I don’t need much of that. For reasons.” I glared again to express my deep annoyance. Stupid photographic memory. That and the fact that he was the only one of us who’d spent a good deal of his life in this world and thus had attended college here plenty of times already. Now mortal again, he finally prepared to graduate his five hundredth and final time. Aaryn only smiled in his pleased way, and I knew that if I stuck around, he would only continue to annoy me. So, bidding Ferdinand farewell, I stormed back to my room, rolling my eyes as he absently returned my parting several seconds too late. Returning to my confounded English paper, I reflected how Ferdinand had acted very strangely the past few weeks. He didn’t talk much, often staring with a faroff, distracted look uncommon to him. He’d become so jumpy whenever I approached him, giving delayed and often uninteresting answers to my questions. Maybe there was a crush or a secret girlfriend or some other new distraction in his life. Whatever it was, I couldn’t think about now. No, I thought with a scowl. For now, I must only think about Shakespeare, equations, and the periodic elements.

Entry 2, Cheryl’s Diary: A Melody

Woo! So I ed my finals, managing to keep up my near-perfect grade average. Shortly after that, the time arrived for Ferdinand and I to hit the proverbial road. Sarah decided to come with us last-minute as well. I’d invited Grace, but she seemed too hooked on her latest boyfriend to consider leaving. Chad was the fifth she’d dated that semester, poor girl. She was a sweet thing who really wanted a boyfriend, but she always managed to find all the pretty guys who were either players or just complete jerks. I prayed that this one might work out, especially as I understood exactly how she felt. My fortune with men had never proved any better, even in several hundred years of searching for the right one. ~*~*~*~ A week later, At last we were in Lisallight, and I had started my new job in the antiques shop. I was in the process of unloading some old dishes from a wooden box. The sun shone brightly outside, and I felt glad to be near the window, both to soak up some rays and to entertain myself with watching ersby. Glancing up and across the room, I found Harriet and smiled. After two days, I’d really come to like this young lady who owned the shop, except for the fact that she talked incessantly. She stood at the counter, carefully folding scarves, chatting gaily about the differences between geraniums and pansies. I wasn’t really sure what had spawned this conversation, and I’d zoned out after a couple of minutes, occasionally nodding or making some comment to pretend that I indeed listened with fascination to her descriptions of pansy spores. As I set another plate on the shelf and Harriet’s babble became a faint echo in my mind, I glanced out again at the busy market. Only this time, I did a doubletake. Coming down the street was the most intriguing guy. His blonde hair, just

sweeping his shoulders, gleamed gold in the sun. A green cape swept from his tall shoulders, nearly kissing the ground and accentuating his bright green eyes. He wore a white blouse with dark tros and boots. The simplicity of his crisp, clean look contrasted with the wild colors and patterns of my dress and leggings. His purposeful stride drew glances from many ers by. Suddenly realizing he headed toward the shop, I ducked behind a clothes rack just in time as the little bell rang to announce the shop door opening. I was curious, of course, but no way could I talk to such an incredibly handsome man. If only Grace was here; she’d start swooning for sure. Peeking around the clothes rack, I saw him approach the counter where Harriet gawked like a deer in headlights, mouth slightly ajar. He strolled with a strange mix of humility and confidence toward her. I felt sorry for her, but also relieved; better her making a fool of herself than me. “Good afternoon,” he greeted. His voice resonated deeply and held an almost musical quality, fascinating me all the more. I’d never heard such an enchanting voice—not since incubi were no longer around. “Um...yes...” was all the gaping Harriet could mutter. No doubt her ability to think had flown out the door altogether the moment he’d stepped through the doorinside—and, miraculously, her ability to talk. “If you please, I’m looking for a book,” he said, gazing at her calmly. Perhaps he knew the effect he held over people and was used to such reactions. Or perhaps he was just exceptionally polite. Harriet didn’t even reply, just continued to stare blankly. After a few moments, he prompted gently, “So, can you help me?” “Um, well, no, but, um...Cheryl is very good with books.” I wanted both to hide in the clothes rack and chuck a book at Harriet’s head all at once. Harriet knew loads more about the books than me, and this was only my second day on the job besides. Now she expected me to make a complete idiot of myself in front of this guy? Then again, I couldn’t do a much worse job of that than she was already doing herself.

As Harriet led him over, still looking quite dumbfounded, I gathered the small amount of composure and courage inside me. “Um, Cheryl,” Harriet said. “This gentleman would like help with...um...” “Books,” he reminded gently. “Yes, books.” “Oh, Harriet,” I said, not daring to look at him, “I still have to finish stocking these dishes—” “No, no, dear, you run along, and I’ll finish that. You go and help the nice, young gentleman with the, um...” “Books,” he said again, still smiling. “Yes, books...” She hurried to take the box of dishes from my hands and then scurried off, looking very relieved, as though by shoving him off on me she was saving herself from a very nasty bout of swooning, which she had warned me she was very prone to... “What kind of books were you looking for?” I asked, concentrating on steadying my voice. My gaze darted to him, then to my feet, then him, then the wall. I could hardly look at him for fear of becoming incapable of forming a coherent sentence. His presence simply didn’t allow a person the faculties needed to focus on steadying one’s voice and gaze all at once. “I was looking for a book on unicorn magic.” Daring to glance up, I only stared. Realizing I looked like an idiot, I turned my attention to the bookshelf on the far wall. “Right this way, sir.” As we walked, I said, “So you’re skilled in magic?” “Fluently. Or at least, so people have claimed since I was a young boy.” “Mm...”

It was easier to speak to him without looking, but his voice was strangely intoxicating and exceptionally pleasant to the ears. Almost musical, I again thought. And some sort of irresistible scent floated about him. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear vampires still existed and that he was one of the most alluring I’d ever encountered. We reached the books, and I began scanning the shelves. He stood right behind me, just...breathing. How very unnerving. His smell overpowered me, clouding my mind. I couldn’t even that the books were in alphabetical order, that the book I sought should be easy for me to locate... “No matter, I’ve found it.” His hand snatched out just a moment after my own. Our hands didn’t touch, but they hovered just close enough that I felt an undeniable spark inside me, sending my heart into a wild spiral. As he took the book carefully in his hands and stood patiently waiting, I knew I must face him. It was rude to keep speaking to a person without meeting their gaze, even if doing so might made me act like a complete buffoon. I stared at him stupidly a few moments before he said, “This is all I’ll be needing today, thank you.” The words were a prompt for me to cease my buffooningness and let the poor guy pay for the book. “Right this way, sir,” I said again. After completing the transaction, I politely showed him the door, not daring to meet his gaze again and thus throwing all decorum out the window. “Have a nice day, sir,” I said, feeling awkward as my gaze darted everywhere but his face. “And you as well, my lady...” I was forced to look at him as he took my hand and brought it to his lips to kiss. Another spark raced through me at his touch. My gaze delved into his, and I saw a mystery in its depths. Then his gaze calmed, and he smiled gently once more. “Good day to you.”

He turned and glided out the door, slipping into the crowds as gracefully as he’d come. For a moment, I stood dumbfounded. Then, I heard a great thump and the crash of many dishes. Poor Harriet had fainted after all. ~*~*~*~ Not long after I’d revived Harriet, she’d given me a few coins and sent me into town for my lunch-hour. She must’ve still been in shock from the morning’s visitor, for she gave me two gold coins to buy her a sandwich that would cost hardly a few coppers. Taking the unnecessary change in hand, I made my way toward Harold’s Sandwiches, stopping to look at some of the old-timey dresses, books, and other odds and ends available at the various shops and carts along the way. Stepping inside Harold’s, I spotted Sarah behind the counter, waiting on customers. She looked more than a little annoyed at an elderly man who had just ordered a tuna sandwich with all the dressings on it. Well actually, first she looked shocked and stared at him like he was crazy, and then, after realizing he was serious, irritation spread across her face as she began to heap blue cheese sauce, honey mustard, spiced mustard, as well as all of Harold’s dozen or so unique dressings onto the tiny sandwich. Plus three kinds of cheese. As thrilled as I was about eating food again, even I had to it the sandwich sounded like major eww... After the line had cleared, I skipped up, all smiles, trying to grant some encouragement to ease Sarah’s beyond-annoyed expression. “Oh, thank God,” Sarah sighed with relief. “Did you see that nasty sandwich with all those dressings? That was just...well...nasty...” She wrinkled her nose, and I laughed. “It did look pretty gross.” “Mm-hmm...So, what can I get for you today?” I ordered a roast beef sandwich and Harriet’s turkey, both of which were very simple to make and sent Sarah on a “thank-you-for-making-it-easy-and-what’s-

with-that-annoying-man-ordering-weird-sandwiches” speech. I could only grin. I never minded her ranting. It seemed to do her good to get those rantings out of her system. After thanking a much-calmer Sarah, I paid for the sandwiches and promised to see her later. I turned toward the door to leave but stopped dead in my tracks, the bag of sandwiches slipping from my fingers to the floor with a thud. The stranger in the green cape stood outside the shop. The ersby seemed to glide past him unawares. How could they not notice him, stop to marvel at his beauty as I now did, and as they’d done before? Perhaps he’d made himself invisible to them. After all, he’d practically declared himself a magical prodigy. Strangely, while the crowds continued to in front of him as well as behind, my vision of him remained perfectly clear and whole, as if he was the only real thing standing there and everyone else were transparent shadows. He stood rooted to the spot, his calm eyes seeming to delve deep into the crowds, as if searching for something. Someone pushing a cart ed in front of him, and when it moved again, he had vanished. “Wait!” I gasped, rushing from the store. “Ma’am,” the cashier called, “you forgot your sandwiches...” “Oh, great, something else for me to clean up,” Sarah huffed. I heard them, and yet I didn’t, for their voices sounded distant and otherworldly. The moment my feet touched the earth outside, I heard only a flute beckoning. The noises of the crowds dimmed and abruptly muffled, like they were underwater, but the flute rang crystal clear, as though it was the most important sound in the world. Scanning the crowd, I saw no signs of him, yet I sensed that the flute was his call. I couldn’t have resisted if I’d wanted to. Even as I stood contemplating, my feet itched to go forward. The flute’s beckon began to overpower; I must heed its summons or else go mad. It was so easy to follow as I slipped through the crowds without taking any heed of whether or not I was going to bump into someone. Either I’d gained some

sudden skill of grace and agility, or else the same invisibility that he’d possessed moments before now possessed me. No one seemed to notice the strange, entranced girl walking like a hungry zombie through their midst. And I was hungry—for that music... I followed the music from the town and into the woods, not caring that my lunch break surely ended soon. Such thoughts felt far away, just like the crowd and all other reality that had faded into unimportance, monotonous shreds of life I could return to at a later date. There was only that glorious music, realer than any other reality. The flute’s call drove me deeper and deeper into the woods, leading me into its trap, snaring me like a witch’s love potion or some sorcerer’s charm. I should have sensed danger, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I only knew I must follow the music, and that I wanted to desperately. As I emerged into a little clearing, the music abruptly stopped. I took in my breath, gazing in wonder. I felt as though I’d just stepped inside a fairy tale. Before me stood a two-story stone cottage with a straw-thatched roof, diamondpatterned window panes, and smoke curling from a chimney. A stone walkway wound up to the wooden door, and on either side grew full-blooming flowers— roses, irises, tulips, pansies, and all other sorts of flowers that you wouldn’t normally expect to see blooming in the same season. I should be have been scared. The music was gone, and I’d regained full consciousness. I knew I should turn back. Wasn’t that what a sane person would do, even an overly curious one like me? But whether because some part of the spell still lingered, or whether because I sensed that there was some important reason why I had been so strangely summoned here, I walked up to the cottage. After all, whoever had cast the spell had returned to me my full faculties, giving me a last chance to escape. So he—or she, for my mysterious customer might not really be behind everything—must not be all that bad. Unless that was only what they wanted me to think... I stood before the door, debating for what seemed an eternity. The thought of simply returning to work flitted through my mind, and I hesitated, hand outstretched, while deciding whether or not to knock.

Entry 3, The Musician’s Diary

I watched from my window, invisible and anxious. Most girls I had ever seduced, whether as a one-night stand or as a more permanent resident like my last had been, gave no hesitation at all when approaching my cottage. So why did this one wait? I had sensed some small magic in her, but was she stronger than I’d thought? Did she possibly guess my intentions? Finally, she approached my door—only to stand, without knocking, for what seemed an eternity. The suspense was sheer murder, and I inwardly reminded myself not to be so careless next time. Her intelligence had instantly attracted me, but had I forgotten so quickly that being attracted was not my purpose, not important, not even relevant, in this game? Had I forgotten my great need, especially since the resources I’d obtained from the last girl were all but spent? A strong urge to open the door ripped through me, right down to my clenched fists. But I knew that if she was smart and strong enough to consider resisting my spell, that she was smart enough to be suspicious if I just randomly threw the door open as if waiting for her. She was clearly smart enough to know that the music was intended for her and her alone... I sighed in relief when at last her hand rapped on the door. Drawing on my air of confidence—though I was anything but confident at the moment—I walked over to the door, lifted my veil of invisibility, and opened it.

Entry 4, Cheryl’s Diary: The Cottage

He stood in the doorway, perfectly tall and handsome, still clad in the white blouse and dark pants and boots, though he’d done away with the green cape. He stared at me with a very odd expression. His eyes and rigid body language expressed a struggle to keep his cool, as if he was trying to conceal shock or some other unwanted emotion, and this made his face twist in a weird, unpleasant way. After hesitating, I decided on playing it dumb for the moment. “Hello. My name is Cheryl. I’m from Lisallight, and I was taking a walk and got lost. Could you help me find my way?” What was that? I just blurted my name to some random stranger? Why did doing so feel so natural? Did the spell of his music still linger within me, or did sheer stupidity from being flummoxed at his handsomeness drag the words from me? All traces of surprise melted from his face. He gazed at me, as cool and unnerved as he’d been inside the shop, and said, “Cheryl, is it? You’re the one who helped me this morning. Sure, I can take you back. But why don’t you come in for a minute? I can get you something to eat or drink.” A part of me couldn’t stave suspicion. After all, I’d been around enough magical beings in my long life to recognize a potential trouble-maker when I saw one. But as always, my curiosity got the best of me; besides, there seemed to be no real harm as long as I kept my wits about me. “Okay,” I agreed. He stepped aside, motioning me forward, and I entered the cottage. The living room boasted gorgeous wooden floors, a plush couch, and a rocking chair beside a fireplace. Many thick, old books stacked neatly in a massive bookshelf. On a little table, silver wheels and globes spun, and glass vials glistened, small signs that a either a person of magical skill or a kleptomaniac of

shiny objects definitely lived here. “Thanks again for your help earlier,” he said once we both stood inside. “The book will be most useful, I’m sure.” “No problem.” I tried to steady my gaze as it met his. “Would you like a drink?” he asked. “Um, sure.” “Please, sit.” We both sat on the couch, and with a snap of his fingers, a large glass tumbler floated in the air before us, pouring its yellow liquid neatly into the dainty glasses that accompanied it. An awkward silence ed as we sipped the best lemonade I’d tasted in my several centuries of living. “I was actually wondering,” he said at last, “if would you like to stay for lunch?” If any of the circumstances under which we’d met were normal, I would’ve accepted right away. I mean, I was a naturally outgoing person, and he seemed like a smart, mysterious guy who had definitely peaked my interest. I felt extra curious about him. But a part of me still knew to be careful, even if it was a part of me that fast grew smaller than it should. That bit of caution prodded strongly enough to at least try to talk some sense into me. “Actually,” I said, “I have to get back to work by one. So I really should be going...” I muttered the words half-heartedly, not sounding at all as convincing as I would have liked. He smiled at me in his calm way. “You don’t have to go just yet. Look, you still have half an hour.” I detected a twinkle of slyness in his green gaze as it roamed to the grandfather clock. Looking too, I gasped and then glanced at my watch. He was right, though I could’ve sworn only moments before that it was already a quarter til one. Was he messing with my mind, or could he control time? Did he want me to stay that

badly? And if so, why? “Please,” he said, “I’m so busy with my research that I see few people, and I get so few visitors out here in the middle of the woods. Please, stay and have lunch with me.” I hesitated again. His explanation seemed sound, but I debated on whether his words were sincere or whether he might prove to be some overly handsome creep. Yet I couldn’t help being allured by his smile, his scent, the very calm yet seductive aura surrounding him. Perhaps as long as I remained cautious, it couldn’t hurt to accept his offer. “Sure,” I said, smiling sincerely. “I am starving though, I’ll warn you.” He laughed and stood to his feet. “I assure you there’s plenty to eat.” “Better be,” I challenged, following him into the kitchen. It was a quaint little room, old-fashioned with more gorgeous wooden floors, wooden cabinets, a large wood-burning stove, and an old pump and sink. Bright sun streamed through the large windows framed with white silk. “Please, sit.” He pulled out a chair at the wooden table. “Sure you don’t want help?” I asked, trying to ignore the fact that I blushed at his simple gentlemanly gesture, inwardly soaking up the attention. If he was an evil wizard about to eat my heart or something, at least he knew how to make it worth a girl’s while. “No, no help is needed, I assure you.” He took a seat. I stared at him curiously, but the next minute, he clapped his hands together, cabinet doors flew open, and dishes, spices, fresh veggies, bread, and other tasty treats floated out. The stove revved itself up, and within minutes, a self-cooked—literally, self-cooked—meal of soup and sandwiches was laid before us. Simple yet delectable, even better than my own well- experienced cooking. I wondered if it was fairy food and whether any of the old fables were true. Perhaps I shouldn’t be eating it. Of course, I also had fairy blood in me, but there are different kinds of fairy folk, and he could very well prove to be the unsafe kind.

At any rate, it all tasted scrumptious, and I couldn’t help polishing off the meal while asking, “So, how does all this..?” I finished my question by waving to the dishes which began washing themselves in the sink. “This cottage once belonged to a great Mira wizard named Alastair,” he said. “Much magic resides in it still, though he lived over a thousand years ago.” “Really?” I perked up, fascinated. “I’ve read all about him and the Mira.” “Really?” he returned, a light of intrigue glinting in his serene gaze. Before I knew it, we launched into a full discussion of Mira and Scintillate history. He knew so much that I’d never heard before, while I knew much of the lore and quirky little fun facts he hadn’t heard of either, like the fact that Alastair had a magical snore that turned some of the light orbs in his room on and off. This made the guy—yeah, I still hadn’t figured his name out yet—laugh out loud; a lovely, enchanting laugh. We then argued about the Meleeons, about which were born with purple hair and which were born with pink. He said he’d never heard of the ones with pink hair, and I assured him that the Meleeons of the Mass Era of Loz most certainly had pink hair, because of the lack of sunlight where they’d lived. In the end, I won the debate, or else he gave up. The more we talked, the more I felt a connection forging between us, even though we’d just met. I still kept on my guard, or at least told myself I should, but I couldn’t help relaxing and opening up to him. Maybe it was his charm, his intelligence, his apparent sincerity. Maybe he really had cast a spell on me. Whatever the reason, I’d never enjoyed any man’s company so very thoroughly before in all my life. After a while, he led me back into the living room where we sat on the cozy couch beside the cozy fireplace, and I asked him, “So, if I may, what was that music you were playing when I came in?” For a half-second, concern flickered in his gaze, as if I’d caught him off-guard. But as always, he quickly regained his composure. “Well, you know that unicorn book you helped me find? I came home right away to try it out. It has a song in it for summoning unicorns.”

“Did it work?” I asked. “Not in the way I would’ve liked it to,” he said wryly, and I laughed. “Though,” he added, “you are much more fascinating than a unicorn would’ve been anyway.” I squirmed, and it wasn’t just because of the comment. His intent gaze made mine dart nervously around the room as I said, “So, why were you trying to summon a unicorn?” “Their hair has healing powers.” I gave him a curious look, silently prompting him to continue. “As you could probably guess, I’m a wizard. A wizard who likes to experiment with things. You might call me a magic geek instead of a science geek.” I snorted. He didn’t look like your average geek. If the magic kind looked like this, you could send them all my way. A wide yawn escaped me of a sudden, and I noticed how sleepy I’d grown. “I should probably get back to work before I fall asleep here.” I yawned again, my eyelids growing steadily heavier. “Why don’t you stay a bit longer if you’re getting tired?” he asked in his gentle, alluring voice which made me want to stay just to listen to him talk more. “You could rest a bit before going back.” “No,” I mumbled, laying my head on the arm of the couch. “I really shouldn’t...” But I quickly grew sleepier. Part of me said it was a probably a spell, and part of me didn’t care. He rose from the couch, which allowed me to stretch out my legs, and I snuggled contentedly into the squishy cushions. Was I letting him make me comfortable because I wanted to, or because he wanted me to? I neither knew nor cared, as long as he lingered nearby.

He sat before me on the edge of the couch. As he placed a hand on my head, a thrill sent tremors through my body, which was suddenly heavy with tiredness. “Go to sleep for a little while,” he said. “No,” I murmured. “I...should...” “Sleep,” he lulled in the most soothing whisper, his hand stroking my hair ever so tenderly. My eyelids grew unbearably heavy, yet I still fought to keep them open and gazing into his. “But...work...” I mumbled, though I didn’t really care at this point. “You have time for a nap, ? It’s only twelve thirty...” His words echoed so sincerely. Something resonated in the back of my mind that said twelve thirty had stretched on for a suspiciously long time now. But my mind was past the point of heeding such warnings. I desired only to sleep, and yet, at the same time, to fight to stay awake and be with him just a little longer. Forcing my eyes to look into his, such a tranquil green, I made myself ask, in the softest whisper, the one question still burning like a faint ember inside my sleepy mind, “What is your name?” He hesitated as a flash of surprise lit his calm gaze, followed by doubt. Or did I only imagine it? Was I coherent enough at that point to decipher anything? Finally, he answered in a quiet voice, “My name is Logan.” “Logan...” I muttered, my eyes quickly losing their struggle to stay open. “Yes...now go to sleep, Cheryl...” He kissed my forehead, sealing the spell, for my eyes closed and I ed no more. ~*~*~*~ Slowly, my senses awoke.

At first, I was aware of something soft beneath me and a cool breeze stirring around me. After some moments, my stubborn eyes opened, and I found myself lying on the forest floor. I sat up, yawned, and stretched, trying to how in Bienvinette I’d ended up here. For a while, my mind felt too clouded with sleepiness to give much thought to how strange it was that I’d fallen asleep on my walk. As I perked up, it rushed back to me: the antique shop! How long did I sleep, and on what was only my third day at my new job? Inwardly scolding myself, I scrambled to my feet and began running as fast as I could back toward town. My mind was still foggy, and I stumbled as I ran. At least I wasn’t very deep inside the forest, so maybe I wasn’t too late. As I emerged from the woods, Ferdinand raced to meet me. “Hey, Ferdinand,” I said, smiling, but my smile quickly faded as he grabbed me firmly by the shoulders. He shook me, his stern voice tremulous and his eyes wide with a serious fear as he demanded, “Cheryl! Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick! I thought you could be hurt, or—or worse—” I had never seen him so unnerved, and I stared, completely confused. “Ferdinand. I—I was only gone a few minutes for lunch.” Well, at least, I hoped that was true. “A few minutes!” he cried. “Cheryl, look at the sky! It’s nearly sunset!” I stood startled. Glancing over his shoulder, I saw the sun dipped low in the west, the sky transformed by tints of orange, red, and pink. “I—I guess I fell asleep,” I said quietly, totally bewildered, not knowing what else to say. “I’m sorry that I worried you. I guess I just fell asleep.” He gazed at me intently a few moments more, glancing me over head to toe as if to assure no part of me was harmed. Finally, he released me and said quietly, “It’s all right. You’re safe. Let’s just get back.” “Uh, Ferdinand,” I said. “Am I...do you know...am I fired?”

With a sigh, he shook his head. “No, but Harriet was in a tizzy, thought you’d gotten hopelessly lost or eaten by some wild beast. I told her it wasn’t like you to skip work or school or anything. I assure you, your job is still perfectly secure. Now come on, let’s get back.” I followed him in silence back to the castle, casting occasional glances at him but saying nothing. His gaze flickered between relief and solemn concern, but he didn’t look at me. When we finally reached the castle and then stood before the door of my room, he bid me good-night, and I thanked him for coming to find me. He told me he would send supper in, and I thanked him for that too. I ate my supper slowly and thoughtfully. I must’ve fallen asleep, right? And yet, a vision of a cottage flashed through my mind, along with a melody drifting to me on the breeze. Had all that been a dream? It certainly seemed real in my memory. Each detail felt so vivid: the path I’d taken there, the tree with pink blossoms, the little stream, the garden, the cottage, and then... I replayed the scene over and over in my mind, but as soon as I reached the cottage, everything went starkly blank. The memory stopped after that, as if it didn’t exist past that point. Perhaps it was only one of those dreams in which everything seemed real. Perhaps. But as I closed my eyes to go to sleep that night, I didn’t feel so certain at all that it had been just a dream.

Entry 5, Logan’s Diary

I sat on the couch, gazing pensively into the flames and touching the cushion beside me, touching the place where she had slept so beautifully, where she had brushed against its fabric and left her sweet scent… My brow furrowed as these thoughts raced through my mind. No. No. No. I couldn’t do this to myself. I couldn’t weaken myself, not now, not when I’d managed to survive for so long. I couldn’t allow myself to...to feel... Feel. I shuddered as though the word was some filthy plague. While all the world around me felt both terrible and glorious things—hate, anger, pity, jealousy, comion...love—I was forced to feel nothing so that I could survive and not go mad from the surviving. But I had felt. I’d watched her sleep without harming her, hadn’t even thought to take advantage of her mind to relieve my frustration. Just watching her had proved strangely enough satisfaction. Such a novelty was something so very old to me that it had become new, and it had felt magnificent. In the moments I’d watched her sleep, it was as though life had returned to normal. Her peace had been real, and I’d somehow shared in her serenity for those few moments. No matter though. I’d survived plenty of one-night stands. She would be another. No need to ever see her again. I’d obtained what I needed from her. I could instead allure another less appealing and keep her as I’d done to others in the past. No, I need never see this one ever again— Yelling in rage at the thought, I jumped up, throwing one of my nearby books into the flames of the fireplace and overturning the little table, not caring as the meaningless trinkets spilled on the floor. I stood breathing hard, watching the pages of the book curl—and then, suddenly realizing, I dove into the flames. The cursed magic pulsing hotly through my veins kept me unscathed from the fire as I rescued the book. Holding it tenderly, I breathed the needed words to make it whole again, as though it had never been harmed. Sinking back onto the couch, I stared at it, holding it with new affection. The unicorn book I’d bought

from the shop. Her book. Ours. Then and there, I cursed my life as I’d done so many times before. For I knew that all I wanted was to see her again, just as I knew I never could.

Entry 6, Cheryl’s Diary: The Cottage Again

Harriet gave me the next day off, seeming to think I needed time to recover from my traumatizing experience. I thanked her but wondered: traumatized at what? Having the day off only frustrated me, as it gave me nothing to do but wonder about yesterday’s adventure, dream, or whatever it had been. Aaryn arrived at the castle that morning, instantly heading to his room to unpack all his books and clothes, no doubt setting to work making the room as hazardous as possible before lunch time. Ferdinand ascended to help him unpack, no doubt in hopes to make the room as least hazardous as possible. Ordinarily, it would have amused me to go up and watch them duke it out, but today, my mind wandered elsewhere. Lisal would also be busy all morning with queenly duties, so after announcing to her that I was going for a walk, I took off for the woods. For a while, I meandered down a familiar walking path, debating whether I should look for the cottage. Even if it was just a dream, couldn’t it be one of those dreams that actually meant something? Finding myself straying off the path, I headed eastward, coming to the first marker in my dream, the lofty tree sprouting pink blossoms. I looked up at its vastness, and at the pink petals fluttering down all around me like puffs of cloud. Gazing deeper into the woods, then back the way I’d come, I decided this was it, the right path. This was familiar to me, for whatever reason. Should I move forward or backward? What would I find if I moved forward? My heart raced as I continued, spurred by my ever-present curiosity. Again, I crossed the stream and heard a melody, soft but clear, played on what sounded like a flute. Something stirred in the back of my mind like a half-lost memory. Somehow I recognized this tune, even though I couldn’t pinpoint its significance. Following it, I stumbled at last upon the garden and cottage from my dream.

Should I go further? I had come this far, right? I walked up to the door, took a deep breath, and knocked. The flute music ceased with startling abruptness.

Entry 7, Logan’s Diary

I practiced the new melody for what seemed the zillionth time that morning. Though I’d already mastered the song, it needed to be flawless, just like always when I seduced my new “guests.” I’d found no reason not to throw myself straight back into my work. The sooner I returned my thoughts to my purpose and kept them focused there, the sooner I would forget all about the girl, about last night— As someone rapped on my door, I nearly dropped the flute. Who in all the Below? No one ever came to visit unless I summoned them with a song or they wanted to rent out my second cottage. Totally perplexed, I walked over, opened the door— And stared in complete horror. It was the girl from yesterday, the girl who’d entranced and now haunted me. She didn’t seem to notice my expression, for her own was equally surprised as she said, “Oh, it’s you.” “Umm...” I muttered stupidly, too flustered, too frustrated with myself, to compose an actual sentence. “The guy who came into the shop yesterday,” she continued. “I know this must seem awkward, but I had this dream that led me to your cottage, and I heard music, and here I am. I can go, if you like. I suppose it’s a bit weird, intruding on you like this…” She spoke very quickly, nervously, unlike yesterday. Of course, nervousness was a common side effect, and if her memory partly ed me, she had good cause to feel on edge around this random young man who was stuck in her memory without her knowing how. At any rate, I could hardly let her go without at least getting her a bite to eat—if she ed how to get here, she might if I was rude enough to turn her away, and I couldn’t have that on my conscience too—and so I muttered, “Come in,” still in a daze as she thanked me and slipped inside.

After showing her to the living room, I scurried off to the kitchen to gather some sandwiches and lemonade, my mind whirring while I commanded the knives to slice bread, cheese, and butter. This had never happened before. This was bad. Well, not necessarily that bad, but definitely not good either. How in all worlds had this come about? Observant little sneak. Yesterday, her attentiveness had amused me, but now... I usually attracted, pardon my insult, less intelligent ladies to my home on purpose. They were always too careless or else too enthralled in the beauty of my music to notice the way to my cottage. So I’d never seen any harm leaving those directions in their head because I’d never dreamed anyone would actually take note of them, but instead assume everything was a dream. Yet this girl had paid attention. Now, here she sat in my living room—again. Peering around the corner, I saw her carefully inspecting my book shelf and scowled. Vigilant, nosy little trickster. I scowled again as the knives tried to spread lemonade on the sandwiches. Immediately reprimanding them, I sent them off to wash themselves; how they detested being washed. Most persnickety knives I’d ever owned. Displeasing them gave me a slight satisfaction in my own frustrations. I tried to don a smile, though I still felt very agitated and at a complete loss at what to do. I strolled into the living room, sandwiches in tow, mind scrambling for how to wing this new situation. “Here we are,” I said with attempted cheeriness, setting the tray on the polished antique table and taking my seat on the sofa. She sat in the rocker and watched me with her brightly curious expression, almost making me grin. Almost. I was still thoroughly annoyed with her. Or perhaps with myself. Or perhaps just annoyed in general. If I was a normal person and this was a normal situation... “They’re quite good,” she said as she sampled the sandwiches. “Glad you like them,” I muttered, rather flatly. “You’ve such a wonderful collection of books,” she said brightly.

“Mm,” I grunted in reply. She rattled on happily about my antique collection, and my tension eased a bit, though most of my answers still erupted as grunts—perhaps in part because I couldn’t get a word in. All the while, my mind still reeled with the puzzle of what I was going to do with her. The answer seemed simple enough. Take care of today’s memory, as well as what I’d left behind from yesterday—namely, the directions to my house. Yet a part of me wanted her to return again. Her presence shone so warmly and full of life. She was an avid reader, very intelligent and interesting to talk to— once you got past her nervous babble. I began to wonder if there couldn’t be some way... And then, against my better judgment, I concluded not to worry about it. After all, I need not decide anything until next week when I would really need more from her—or from someone—right? Right. Despite knowing it was really very selfish of me, I couldn’t help wanting to be selfish after living all these years alone. So I decided that, for now, I wouldn’t do anything drastic. Besides, I could always invite another guest to take on her duties, and that way, she’d still get to safely visit. Of course, I should probably tell her the truth eventually, but there was no need to ruin my fun for now, was there? “...I like poetry best, though. What about you?” I hesitated. Such a simple question, the kind of thing normal people, friends even, asked one another all the time. Yet for me, it meant I stood at a crossroads, and I must choose a path. I knew what I wanted was unwise. I knew nothing good could come of it. But I desired it too much. In all my years of building up my strength, my resistance, I had really built up nothing at all except the inability to resist someone as magnificent as her, and my resistance now threatened to crumble entirely with the utterance of one word. I was too selfish to resist even for her sake. I had already invited her back into my house, hadn’t I? I had already sworn us both to a heart-breaking fate, no doubt. Still, I couldn’t help but feel some sense of happiness where my heart should have throbbed only with guilt and remorse. I’d finally get what I’d secretly longed for these many, many years, though I’d denied this truth even to myself.

“Yes,” I said, smiling my first real smile in too long a time. “I like poetry very much indeed.”

Entry 8, Ferdinand’s Diary

I began to worry again as the afternoon stretched on, and still no sign of Cheryl’s return. Hopefully I wouldn’t be forced to search for her again. “For the fifth time, man, do you have any eights?” Lisal shouted playfully, though she began to look genuinely annoyed. I mumbled that she should “go fish.” I perked up then as someone whistled a merry tune, skipping up the stairs. Glancing at the open doorway, I saw Cheryl bounce past and sighed with relief. But as she popped her head through the doorway, curiosity struck me. She looked so...happy. She always looked happy, but today, she literally beamed, glowing like a star. “Whoa, are you all right, Cher?” Aaryn grinned. “You look like Grace after she got to meet Orlando Bloom. Well, after she woke from fainting for the fourth time...” “Yes, I’m fine. I had a wonderful day.” Cheryl giggled. My perplexity heightened. Cheryl never...giggled. How awkward to hear the girlish sound. “Much better than meeting Bloom, though,” she added. “Lisal, I’ll be up in my room. See you later?” “Of course,” Lisal said, with a knowing smile. Cheryl skipped off. “What was all that?” I wondered aloud. “Oh, it’s obvious she’s met someone.” Lisal’s eyes glittered with unconcealed delight.

“Hm...” Aaryn mused, smiling impishly. Lisal gave him a stern look. “No, don’t you even think of eavesdropping. This is girl talk—none of your business.” Aaryn scowled. “If only I still had those sensitive vampire ears of mine...” I was left dumbfounded. Met someone? A guy? Cheryl? Cheryl, who was outgoing for the most part but was always too shy to go up and talk to a guy she liked, let alone spend all day with him? Who could this guy be? She must really like him to actually talk to him. Yet that worried me. What if she hadn’t willingly talked to him? What if he was dangerous? What if... I shook my head. No sense in getting so upset over a perfect stranger. The situation wasn’t really all that odd; I was probably just paranoid... “Ferdinand!” Lisal snapped. “Do you have any twos—?” “Go fish,” I said quickly. I threw down my cards then, losing even more interest in the game than I had already. “Hey!” Lisal yelled as I left the room. “You had three twos! I’m taking them, you cheat!” Ignoring her shouts of false rage, I wound up the castle steps, my mind too preoccupied to really comprehend her words or anything else. Something felt wrong. Aaryn would say I was being overprotective and needlessly suspicious as always. But could you ever really be too protective? Quietly, I scaled the steps to Cheryl’s room. The door was cracked open, and I peeked inside. She lay on her stomach on the canopy bed, feet swinging in the air as she scribbled away in her diary, humming dreamily like a middle-school mortal, not some wise, ancient ex-vampire. As I knocked on the doorframe, she looked up, beaming her wonderful smile.

“Hey, Ferdinand. Come on in.” Smiling and walking in, I tried to erase the look of concern surely flashing across my face. “Sit,” she said, sitting up and patting the bed. I sat beside her, and she faced me, grinning and speaking in a hushed, quick voice. “I was going to wait for Lisal, but now you’re here and I have to tell someone, so I’m sure you won’t mind, will you?” I shook my head, encouraging her with another smile. She launched into a rapid but detailed description of her day. I absorbed every word, just as I always did whenever she spoke to me. But none of her words, bubbly as they were, helped to calm my worry and suspicion. “Isn’t it all so exciting?” she finished at last, breathless. I nodded, attempting to smile again. “I’m happy for you. But, well...where did you say you met him?” She rolled her eyes. “Not already with the boyfriend drill. The pathetically few boyfriends I’ve had, you’ve scared them all away.” “Yes, and did they not later prove themselves to be worthless bums?” “He’s not,” she said, paining me with her sharp, defensive glare. “Please,” I said. “I’m just looking out for you. Just tell me.” She sighed. “I had a dream last night about this cottage in the woods. Then today, I heard music in the woods and followed it to the cottage, and it was his. Anyway, he’s so sweet and smart and—” I raised a hand to stop her. One time through that babble had been enough, even for me. “Cheryl, I don’t like the sound of it. You happen to have some random dream about a random cottage, follow random music, randomly end up at this guy’s

house? Sounds like dark sorcery to me.” She laughed out loud. “‘Dark sorcery’? Must you always think the worst? For goodness’ sake, there’s nothing wrong with him, Ferdinand.” “How do you know? You don’t even know what happened to you yesterday.” She blushed violently and pouted. “I do too. I fell asleep.” “Look, I just think you should be careful. And maybe Aaryn and I should meet him. We guys, we have a sense for these things—” “No,” she snapped. “You’re not meeting this one. Why do you always have to interfere with everything in my life, try to mess it all up?” “Cheryl,” I pleaded, trying to hide the hurt from my voice. “I’m just looking out for you because I care about you.” “Well, don’t you think I’m old enough to look out for myself? Nothing bad will happen, and if it does, it’s my problem, not yours. I will get hurt sometimes; that’s just a part of life.” But she didn’t have to get hurt. If only she would let me show her. She jumped up and started toward the door, a sign that I had overstayed my welcome. “That’s just it, Cheryl,” I pressed gently. “I don’t want to let it come to that chance—the chance that something bad could happen.” I glanced warily at her, and the flush rose to her cheeks again. Suddenly, dark shadows crept into the room. Curious and already paranoid with thoughts of foreboding hanging in my head, I looked toward the open window and walked slowly over. Cheryl hurried over too, curious as always. “Cheryl,” I cautioned. “Oh, hush; it’s just a window.” She craned her head outside.

As I stood beside her, gazing out, I frowned. The sky had rapidly turned black, except for the far horizon still painted blood-red with the setting sun. The stars seemed to have nearly vanished. The faint smell of distant smoke hung in the air, which had grown very still. I wasn’t a superstitious person, but snone of these strange happenings helped to quell my ominous feeling. I glanced over at Cheryl as she continued to gaze out the window. This was just the sort of thing I worried about. She knew much of magic, but was she still too naïve to sense danger when it stared her right in the face? She glanced up then and said, “What, you think this is his work, too?” “I didn’t say that, but I do think some kind of dark force is at work. And I don’t like it. Cheryl.” I took a deep breath to prepare myself for the next words: “I think you should stay in the castle a while. I’ll talk with Lisal—” “No!” she shouted. “You’re just trying to forbid me from seeing him!” “Cheryl, it’s not that. Something really serious could be happening out there. I just don’t want you to get hurt—” “No, Ferdinand! I know you’re just trying to protect me, but you always drive anyone I’m interested in away. I won’t let that happen this time. I’ll see him if I want to!” “Cheryl, I—” “Out!” Her shout cut through me, slicing my heart. Knowing that apologizing would be useless right now, I simply turned and left the room, feeling her smoldering gaze follow me. All the while, I hoped and prayed to God that the darkness truly was just a fluke, perhaps the Elementals having some kind of dispute. That was known to happen on occasion. But nothing I told myself could dispel my worries about Cheryl, and I prayed for her most of all.

Entry 9, Cheryl’s Diary

I could hardly believe Ferdinand. As soon as he left, I lost my reserve, breaking down on the bed and sobbing tears that were hot with hurt and anger. Sure, I’d been through a few losers in the past that Ferdinand had predicted before they’d shown their true colors, but... But Logan was different. He must be different. All I wanted right then was to see him, to make sure he was all right, whatever was going on outside. Scribbling a quick note to Lisal and taking a couple of flashlights with me, I snuck out of the castle and delved into the darkness of the woods, knowing somehow that even if I couldn’t find him, he would find me because he cared about me, because he was different. No matter what Ferdinand said, he was different. He just had to be.

PART 3: VAPOR

Cloud watched as Earth walked through the thick woods of Lisallight. She watched as streams of white moonlight illuminated Earth’s green skin and short, wavy, green hair. She watched as Earth touched the ground and the trees, softly singing, breathing life, health, and vibrancy into all that she touched, all that she breathed upon, all that she sang to. She watched as Earth breathed happiness into all living things. Cloud yearned. She yearned to hear Earth’s singing which she knew must sound so beautiful and serene. She longed to feel Earth’s arms about her, arms she knew must feel warm and oh-so-comforting. As Cloud, she had no concept of warm and cold as mortals did. She could not catch any sickness or fever. But she knew the emotional warmth of a hug or a gentle word or... That was just it. She hardly did know. Of all the Elemental Guardians of Bienvinette, she was the one who could not know, could not feel, could not touch. Wind danced across the sky, laughing playfully, her blue-white strands of impossibly long hair whipping about her. She always looked so joyous. And why not? She owned the freedom to go anywhere she wanted to, both Above and Below. Wind always moved to and fro, very seldom coming Cloud’s way. And even then, she only giggled or prattled some cheerful nonsense for half a minute before flitting off yet again, swirling and dancing, tripping on her own air and laughing gaily. Cloud turned her gaze to Day. The blazing embers of Sun’s arms embraced him. Just like Cloud, Day could not be harmed by such things as fire. They were married, Day and Sun, and deeply in love. All day long they sat together in the sky, talking and whispering sweet nothings that Cloud longed to hear, even if they were considered mere “nothings”. To her, anything would be worth something.

When darkness fell, Cloud enjoyed watching Night and the Stars. The Stars hovered too far away for her to hold a conversation with them, and even farther away if she’d wanted to touch them. But Night could talk with the Stars and, at times, she brought stories of their mischief and happenings to Cloud. Though kind enough, Night visited little, and when she did, Cloud’s heart tugged with envy as she rambled on and on about her beloved James-Star, about how they would soon have their official wedding. Her ever-bubbling joy caused Cloud such pain that she could only wish for Night to go away in that moment. But once she left, Cloud wished for her next return. Painful company or painful loneliness—that was the choice and fate she was bound to. The most painful truth was that she was the only Elemental meant to bear such a fate. The Elements of Above were happy, each bound to someone to hold and love and speak with often. Below dwelt Mother Earth, River, and Fire, and while they did not always get along, Cloud would’ve thrilled even to be involved in one of their heated arguments as opposed to the intense loneliness she was forced to endure. Cloud had contented herself for a time with studying those Above and those Below, getting to know their ways and quirks and whims. But the more she studied, the more her contentment waned and the more her longing took over. She would often mourn her loneliness, her desperate need to love someone and to be loved. Her sorrow would blanket Lisallight in solid sheets of rain for days as her tears caressed the earth. Sometimes, her rain fell hard, cold, bitter. But most often, it cascaded in slow, continuous, melancholy waves. The Elementals in the Below glanced up in concern from time to time, save Fire who peeked from hiding just to glare at the clouds with loathing. That was just it. No one glanced at her. No one really saw her. Even her beloved Earth had never seen her. Everyone saw the clouds, but not Cloud herself. They didn’t see her intense loneliness, too caught up in their own loves and lives. And it was that loneliness, bred from a feeling of invisibility, that broke her heart most of all. Thus Cloud sat bemoaning her existence as Night once more began her slow

capture of the sky, spreading her arms wide to hug the heavens in her dark embrace. Day and Sun skipped over the horizon to continue their romance elsewhere. Moon and the Stars crept forth, weaving their silver beams to gently lull all creatures to sleep. Cloud sat upon one of her fluffy, cumulus clouds, her tears streaming down her cheeks; rain fell ever so gently from the clouds as she watched on. She did her best to weep gently, for she did not wish to soak the kindly Earth. At least, that was the excuse Cloud told herself. Of course, Earth thrived on the rain and didn’t mind getting soaked at all. Deep down inside, Cloud knew her true reason for not wanting to create too much rain was that if she did, she would lose sight of Earth. Such a thought seemed unbearable, as watching Earth was her last bit of happiness. Earth looked so warm, so full of life. Even now, she sang to the plants some lullaby that caused the flowers to close their petals for the night. Cloud imagined those same arms, wrapped with vines and tiny flowers, wrapping around her. She wondered what it was like to have a mother, a lover, a friend, anyone to share such a close connection with... Earth moved forward, to return to the thickness of the woods. Cloud jumped to her feet. No. It was too soon. Earth was leaving too soon. She never departed this quickly. If Cloud could have just one more moment with her to carry her through the night... At once, a torrent of tears rushed from her eyes, and all sight of Earth vanished as the rain poured down. Cloud cried harder, flying down toward Earth in the direction she’d seen her disappear. As Cloud’s tears lessened and the blur cleared again, her heart leapt within her. She glanced back up at the sky. How far she’d come. How far above her the clouds now seemed. Then she heard a faint humming. Looking down, she saw Earth kneeling in the dirt, touching the grass, and a new collection of bright, pink flowers sprang forth. More than anything, Cloud wanted to reach down and smell those flowers. She wanted to tell Earth how lovely they looked and what a marvelous job she did

caring for them. Most of all, she wished Earth to claim her as a lost child and hold her in her arms. Cloud dove farther and farther from her clouds, reaching down desperately, heart pumping with an exhilaration she hadn’t even known she could feel. For the first time since she could recall, she found herself smiling with joy and excitement. Earth stood before her clearly now, and the beautiful humming grew louder, closer... She didn’t notice as the rain abruptly ceased. She only felt herself falling, falling toward the earth, falling so freely. Anyone else would have been afraid. Any other Elemental would’ve never tried what she had just tried. But if anyone had warned her, she wouldn’t have heeded them. What were clouds, after all? Why did they matter so? Why should she be missed? Who existed that would miss her? A liberty like none she’d ever felt before swelled inside her as she plummeted, holding onto no one and nothing, soon to be held by her beloved Earth... Landing lightly on her feet, she stood bewildered. She had done it. By sheer will, she had breached the barriers between Above and Below and reached the Below of Bienvinette. She drank in the sight of the glorious trees surrounding her, the fresh scent of white, sparkling flowers, and then she laughed. Laughed because already, she felt happier. Already, she felt less lonely, surrounded by the living, breathing trees and flowers. “Now,” she told herself, “I wonder which way Earth has gone...” “Dunno, but I know which direction you’ll be going.” Cloud’s heart thrilled at the sound of a voice. “Who said that?” “Turn around and find out, sweet heart.” The voice was low, menacing. Even in her excitement, Cloud couldn’t miss its danger. As the leaves rustled, she whirled, and the silhouette of a tall, cloaked figure stepped forth.

More figures leapt out on all sides, trapping her. Cloud’s thrill morphed instantly into terror. She wanted to bolt, to scream and run into Earth’s arms, to safety, but two strong hands closed tightly around her arms. The cloaked figures glided forward, dragging her into the depths of the woods which no longer seemed so friendly as her captors’ shadows danced all around her. Cloud remained frozen rigid as they marched her through the woods. She didn’t struggle or scream, knowing both would likely prove futile, nor did she complain, though the nails of whoever held her arms dug into her skin like the sharpest claws. Her heart pounded, pumping fear through every vein of her trembling body. The journey through the woods seemed to stretch an eternity before they arrived at a small camp littered with tents and a few camp fires that struggled feebly to burn after her rainfall. Her kidnappers pulled her to the far end of the camp where a tent larger than all the rest stood, casting ominous shadows across the ground. Crowding inside, they forced Cloud to the front, to stand before the tallest figure of all. He sat completely cloaked and hooded. Hardly any light shone into the tent, keeping him and the surrounding figures concealed in shadows, except for their glowing eyes that watched her closely. Cloud cowered at the tall figure’s unknown but menacing form, unable to tear her gaze away from him, though she wanted nothing more than to look away. “Hm...yes...good work, my friends,” he praised. He stepped forward, slowly circling Cloud. She trembled and hoped he didn’t notice, but he snickered beneath his breath. In one swift yet graceful movement, he stood in front of her again and used something curved and sharp to lift her face up toward his. “Yes, she is exceptionally lovely. Good work indeed.” Cloud wondered how he could see her or anything at all in the stark darkness. Her heart sped even faster as she realized that he also must be able to see the fear flashing in her eyes. “Would you like to keep her, my lord?” one of the other cloaked figures asked.

“No,” he said slowly, as if pondering. “No, give her to Monku. I think she might do him good...” “As you wish, my lord,” the figure agreed, though a hint of surprise tinged his voice. They dragged her away once more, out of the tent, only to throw her into another. “Stay here and don’t move, girl. Your new master will be in shortly.” Fabric rustled as the tent flap closed, submerging Cloud in complete darkness. Lying on the ground, shivering, she felt too frightened to even cry. She curled up into a ball, hugging herself. Closing her eyes tight as if she could wish it all away, she wondered if this Monku would prove even more menacing than the others already had, and especially if he would prove more threatening than their apparent leader. As time ed, her tears came, spurred on by the same fear that before had held them back. Fear gripped her, not so much because of what had happened, but because of what might come as soon as her Master graced the tent. Though she’d lived among the clouds all her life, she was not ignorant to the cruel ways of men. She had watched men a long time now from the sky, seen both their good and bad. As feet padded outside, announcing someone’s approach, she caught her breath and ceased crying. She attempted to steady her shaky breathing, hoping beyond hope that if she pretended to sleep, maybe, just maybe, he’d leave her alone… A small sliver of light ed over her as the tent flap drew back. For a few moments, the light did not fade. A small gasp startled the stark quiet. What was he doing? Just staring at her in the moonlight? She tried hard not to tremble but failed. Perhaps he’d still think her asleep, think she was only shivering from the cold. Then the light faded, and he was inside. She jumped as something draped over her shoulders. Maybe he did think she was cold after all, and for a moment, relief washed over her. A whisper floated to her ears like the softest cirrus cloud, “Shh...shh now...”

She shivered again. Was the voice cruel as the others were? It didn’t seem so, yet its quiet made it difficult to tell, and perhaps her wishing for the voice to sound tender only made it so in her mind. “It’s all right,” the voice said, a bit more loudly, yet still gently. “I won’t hurt you.” Growing very still, she held her breath as she felt something beside her. It was him, lying close to her. “I won’t hurt you,” he repeated. “Nor will I let them hurt you.” A powerful determination filled his voice as he spoke these last words. She waited. He sounded so sincere, so reassuring. Yet she couldn’t help but doubt. She lay very still for some time. He said nothing more, nor did he stir, as if he feared even the slightest movement might alarm her. Clearly, he sought her trust. But why? Were his intentions honorable as he said, or were they false as the others of his kind had been so far? Slowly, the thought came to her that in speaking to him, she could lose nothing. She’d already lost any chance of returning to the Above, lost all chance of finding Earth’s comfort. What more could she lose? Much more, she knew, if he chose to take it. But there seemed no harm in risking trust in him for now, so she said, “Where am I?” “Hm? What was that?” he asked, still soothingly. Cloud realized her voice sounded softer than a whisper, muted by fear. She asked a little louder, “Where am I?” “You are in the camp of the Monku people.” “The Monku people? But your leader, I thought he said ‘Monku’ was your name?” “Yes, not very original is it? I suppose my mother wasn’t very creative.” “You suppose?” Cloud asked. She began to feel more curious; something in his voice comforted her, driving the terror away.

“I never asked her. And now, I’ll never see her again, never get the chance.” Cloud felt his body tense next to hers and remained silent, desiring to ask why but knowing that doing so could very well be to step beyond her boundaries. Certainly, she’d overstepped enough boundaries tonight in coming here at all. Trying to distract him, she said, “So can you see me?” “What do you mean?” “Your leader—he talked as though he could see me. But it’s so dark.” His body relaxed. “Ah, see, our people are have special eyes that allow us to be nocturnal.” “So you can see me?” “Yes. It’s why I paused before I entered.” Her heart raced again. What did he mean? “I was so angry,” he continued. “I get angry every time they capture a new girl. But then when they said you were to be under my care...and then I saw you, and you looked so beautiful. And so scared. And I ed that even in this place, I could at least do some good by trying to comfort you, take care of you.” Tears crept into her eyes as she felt something she’d never experienced before. Someone cared about her. Perhaps he was a total stranger who only pitied her. Still, it was more caring than she’d ever felt from anyone else in her entire life. “Thank you,” she whispered. He tensed again. She grew still once more. What could she have said this time to offend him? Or was he just not used to hearing words of gratitude in this place? Trying to change the topic again, she asked boldly, “So...would you mind...would I be able to see what you looked like?” He did not relax, nor did he grow more rigid. He didn’t speak for some time.

“I don’t know if that would be a good idea right now,” he said at last. “My appearance may frighten you.” “Why? Are you under some sort of spell or enchantment?” A pause. Then, he said, “You are an intelligent girl, I see.” “No.” Her voice saddened. “Only I have had much time to see things, know things...” “Where is it you come from?” “The sky.” The rigidity returned to his body. “What?” His voice shook uneasily. She imagined color draining from his face until it paled almost as white as her own. “I am Cloud,” she said. “I’m an Elemental Guardian.” “Does Kyryac know this?” he demanded. “Who?” she asked, her own fear growing with his. “Our ‘leader’, as you called him. Does he know?” “No—” “Then it must be kept that way. I will warn you straight away that Kyryac is a man of lust, of greed, of a desire for absolute power. If he was to know what you are, that is all he would see you as—a means of obtaining more power. You’re already in danger from him, being favored as you are...” “Favored?” she whispered. “How do you know?” “There were only ever two girls.” A sharp bite edged his voice. “Two other girls I was given. He desired both for himself above all others.” “What happened?” The silence between them echoed deafeningly.

Suddenly, she felt something soft and warm upon the small of her back. It must be his hand...but it felt like fur—thick, soft, wonderfully soothing fur. Her heart sped with the fear of the unknown, along with exhilaration. “Do you still want to see what I am?” he asked quietly. She could only nod. The next instant, perhaps by some magic, a candle lit up on the far side of the tent. As he turned her slowly toward him, her heart nearly leapt out of her chest in wondering what she was about to behold— She gasped. He was beautiful. Beautiful didn’t describe the half of how she felt, yet his beauty ensnared her mind so thoroughly that it was the only word she could use to describe him in that moment. His body was like a man’s, but it was sheathed in lush, soft gray fur etched with white and black markings. He wore only tros, showing the most intricate designs woven into the fur of his chest, patterns of stars and moons. He had a cat’s face, ears, and whiskers. His eyes were human, except that their rich brown shone in the dark. His powerful gaze was filled with such a deep watchfulness that she felt forced to turn away, blushing. “See,” he muttered with contempt. “I knew it would only make you fear me more.” “No...” She made her shy gaze to meet his again. “I looked away only because I thought...because I thought...” She glanced away just long enough to get the words out. “…I only thought that you were so beautiful, especially your eyes, and I could not bear you watching me.” She could feel him staring at her, all the more reason for her not to look back up. But then he placed a finger beneath her chin—not a claw as she realized the leader had done—and lifted it so that their gaze met once more, his incredulous as he breathed, “What did you say?” “That you—that I—that I think you’re beautiful.”

“Did you mean it?” “I did.” His gaze continued to search hers, as though she was some lost treasure or impossible dream he must memorize, for fear she might vanish from his sight at any moment. Finally he said, “I have always thought of this appearance as a curse, and as a curse only. But now, if someone like you can view it as beauty, then perhaps Amiel has heard my prayers at last and sent me some blessing in this hellish place.” She tilted her head, a silent prompt for him to continue, if he wanted to. He sighed, looking weary. “Do you know anything of the Monku people? Anything at all?” She shook her head. “Our clan can no longer breed with ourselves,” he said bluntly. “We can only reproduce with other races. We used to live freely and in peace among the other inhabitants of Bienvienette. But ever since Kyryac became Head, he’s turned our entire purpose into one of domination. “Kyryac keeps the men and women’s clans separate, in case any of us should dare fall in love with our own kind. In order to reproduce, he forces us to kidnap young men and women of other races and marry them instead, in hopes to breed and have children, to keep our race from dying out. “We’re also born with mind control powers. Kyryac’s been teaching everyone how to hypnotize others into agreeing to marry us. If that doesn’t work, we’re to force them into submission using a painful sort of mind control. Sometimes, if that doesn’t work, Kyryac will use his skills to torture the person unwilling to submit. I’ve only seen him do it once before, and it was too much for even the strongest person to bear watching...” He glanced away, disgust gleaming vividly in his eyes. “And you,” she Cloud said gently. “You’re not like them?”

“I was once,” he hissed, incapable of meeting her gaze. “The first girl given to me was Julia. She was a delicate woman, and so terrified. I could’ve easily overcome her, but I never approved of Kyryac’s ways, never wanted to be a part of them. But he told me I had better comply, or else he’d take her for himself, and I knew what trauma that would mean for her. So I tried to reason with her. But she’d made a vow of purity to Amiel. She didn’t wish to lie with a man till she married, and she didn’t wish to marry until a certain age. I respected this—or would’ve under any other circumstance. I promised I would never force her, and she grew to place all her trust in me, to love me even... “Then Kyryac’s threats grew more urgent...and I did it. I took her as my own. I hypnotized her to get her consent. And I’ve felt shame and regret ever since. She forgave me, but the pain and sadness in her eyes every time she looked at me from then on...She died shortly after, from an illness that swept through our camp. “Then Gracelyn came along. I determined not to do wrong by her, and I didn’t. As a result, she fell into Kyryac’s clutches, and I never saw her again.” Finally he looked up, years of torment burning in his gaze. “I won’t let those things happen; not again, not with you.” “But is there hope?” she breathed. “You or him—are there no other options?” He released a deep sigh. “Even if you laid with me, there would still be risks. I would have to be constantly on guard, take you with me everywhere, because even though you’re ‘mine,’ Kyryac could still give into his desires. But there is one more way, yes, a way in which no one could harm you unless they wished to suffer the consequences set by the laws of our people long ago...” His voice trailed once more. His deep gaze flickered with hesitation and yet a longing to continue. Why did he hold back? “What is this other way?” she dared to whisper. “We’ve barely known each other a few minutes. It is ludicrous to mention it to you...” The whole night had proved more than ludicrous to Cloud. What could he say that would make it seem more so?

“Please,” she urged, placing a hand on his; she ran her fingers through his fur so soft, so comforting. “Please tell me.” The struggle warred on his face. At last, he said, “You would have to marry me of your own free will. A Monku’s marriage is a sacred bond. Kyryac would risk the wrath of the entire Monku clan—at least from the female Head—in trying to touch another Monku’s wife.” Cloud lay in astounded for a few moments, but the stunned feeling faded quicker than she would have expected as the irony of the whole situation dawned upon her. This opportunity was one of the things she’d always desired most. She’d yearned for any kind of love, any kind of companionship. Yes, particularly the motherly affection of Earth. But so many times she’d also observed couples and had longed for the intimate connection they seemed to share. Now she was offered that same kind of relationship, only under much different circumstances than she would’ve wished. She didn’t love him, didn’t even know him... But she might, in time. Odd though the situation was, perhaps this would be her chance to start anew, to obtain what she’d always dreamed. Quietly, he said, “I don’t expect you to answer me tonight, but I will warn you that your answer will probably need to come within the next few weeks, perhaps even days, depending upon Kyryac’s mood, which is as unpredictable as his temper.” Cloud glanced up at him and nodded. No words came to her, and even if they had, they would’ve flown right out of her mind the moment her eyes once more met his, gentle yet piercing, as though they could see right into her heart. “Let’s talk no more of it for now.” He reached out to stroke her hair. She jumped in surprise, and he drew back his hand. She took his hand and placed it to her cheek. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply. Something about the velvety soft fur and the strength flowing through his touch comforted her. Opening her eyes, she smiled at him. Her smile faded as he gazed deeply into her eyes. A nervousness gripped her

heart, catapulting it into a mad race. This anxiousness was such a foreign feeling that, while she didn’t exactly mind it, she didn’t know what to do with it either... He broke their trance-like connection with a soothing smile. “You have been through much this night. Let’s both get some sleep.” Again, she could only nod as he lay down, and she beside him. His arm slipped around her waist, his soft fur brushing against her from behind. His whiskers tickled her neck, and his warm breath stirred that wonderful thrill inside her. As he hugged her close, she found herself slipping into the most peaceful sleep she could ever . ~*~*~*~ Cloud woke as a sliver of Sun’s dawning rays warmed her face. A smile played on her lips as she stirred from sleep, ing wonderful dreams of a handsome cat-man who’d rescued her and of the impossible excitement she’d felt at the mere touch of his hand upon her face. She’d dreamed of his mesmerizing gaze deeply searching hers, locking her happily within its spell. Drifting farther from the realm of sleep and closer to wakefulness, she still felt a strong arm around her and warm breath against her neck. Again, the thrill tugged inside her stomach, accelerating her heart. She smiled broader still and slowly opened her eyes— Fear and confusion gripped her. The arm around her didn’t appear nearly as furry as it had last night. In fact, it looked like the arm of a regular man. Had she imagined more cat features than truly existed? Had the night’s dark played an illusion on her mind? Perhaps only parts of him, like his face, were catlike. Perhaps that was why he considered himself so unbecoming. It would certainly be odd to own a cat’s face but all other parts human-like. Still, she could’ve sworn he’d been cloaked in beautiful gray fur with black and white markings. And she thought she’d seen a tail flicking behind his back, long and graceful. As he stirred, she tried to lie still as if sleeping, but she couldn’t help growing tense from her fear of this new unknown. “Ah, you’re awake I see,” he mumbled, yawning and drawing his arm from around her to stretch. “Sleep well?”

“Yes,” she said quietly, remaining very still. He laughed softly. “You’re going to have to get up now, I’m afraid.” She wanted to move, but she remained immobile, trying to decipher: it was his voice, wasn’t it? Or was it a trick perhaps? As she sat up, he said, “There now, that’s better. Ready for breakfast?” “Yes.” She still didn’t look at him. “Hey, what’s wrong? Please look at me and tell me...” Gently placing his hand beneath her chin—she felt only skin, no fur—he turned her face toward his. Cloud gasped. He appeared so changed. Handsome still—though not as much as last night—but so different. Now, he looked completely human. Tanned skin, silky black hair falling across one side of his face. But his eyes were the same dark brown, held the same powerful allure. It certainly must be him, but... As confusion replaced her fear, he said, “Oh! I’m so sorry; you could’ve said something. I’m so used to it that I didn’t explain, did I? Human by day, catperson as soon as the sun sets and all through the night until the next dawn. It’s the way our curse works.” “I wish you wouldn’t call it that—a curse,” she said quietly, still trying to wrap her mind around this new information. He sighed. “Come now, you can’t possibly think I was more attractive that way than like this.” Well, that was just it. She really did. In fact, she felt quite disappointed knowing she would never see him in his cat form in full daylight, with the sun glistening on his silver fur. She almost frowned again but stopped herself, not wishing to hurt his feelings. “Well.” He stood and helped her to her feet. “As I said, we shall get breakfast. However, there is something else we must do first, I’m afraid. I must present you to Kyryac, tell him that I accept his gift, that I accept you as my...my ward...” He cringed at the word “ward,” as if he had vainly searched for the most pleasant

word possible to define the situation. “Kyryac,” she breathed. “Must I see him again?” “I understand your fear. However…” He grasped her hand firmly in his. “I will let no harm come to you as long as you are in my care.” She searched his eyes. His words rang true, or at least, he very much wanted them to. Doubt flickered in his gaze, as if he tried to convince himself of his ability to protect her. Nonetheless, she trusted him, partly because she had no other choice, and partly because he was so sincere that she couldn’t help doing so. She gave him a shy, encouraging smile, and he led her from the tent, his strong hand remaining twined in hers. As the sun rose over the camp, it didn’t look nearly as scary in the fresh daylight as it had last night. Colorful tents dotted the ground, surrounded by flowers and lofty trees. Many of the Monku men had risen already, readying small fires to cook or carrying laundry. A very homey feel clung to the camp, and Cloud thought that she could get used to calling such a place her new home. As she followed him, she felt the eyes of the Monkus turn wonderingly upon her in ing. Her face flushed, and she didn’t meet their gazes. “They’re just as stunned by your beauty as I was last night,” Monku whispered to her. She knew he meant this to quell her nerves, but it only made her feel all the more uneasy. Finally, they halted before a huge tent woven from a thick cloth stained a deep purple. Monku squeezed her hand. “All right. Now I know that Kyryac frightened you last night. He can manipulate others’ fear of him. But I assure you that while you stand beside me, no harm will come to you.” She nodded, all speech stolen from her as reality hit her. They prepared to present themselves to the man whose hidden presence had commanded so

terrible a power over her last night. Giving her hand a final squeeze, Monku drew back the tent flap and led her inside. Many men sat inside the tent, talking quietly amongst themselves, but drew to a hush as Monku and Cloud entered. A purple carpet ran down the center of the tent, and Cloud’s heart sped as they approached the opposite end where a youthful man sat on a gold-embroidered, blue satin pillow. Silver hair cascaded across one half of his face in much the same style as Monku’s. His demeanor allured, but in a way that made Cloud shiver. Pride drew about his perfectly poised shoulders and slightly lifted chin like a heavy cloak. His eyes shone just as powerfully as Monku’s, but they held no comfort. Cloud struggled to keep her composure, to look into his face without fear. But as a trace of a smirk crossed Kyryac’s lips, she knew her fear showed and that he took pleasure both in causing and knowing her fear. Finally, the two of them stood before Kyryac. Cloud glanced at Monku who also seemed to struggle to hold his composure, not out of fear, but out of anger, some unspoken rivalry between the two men. “Monku,” Kyryac said coolly. “I see you found my gift.” “Kyryac,” Monku acknowledged with a nod. “And do you accept it?” “I accept her,” Monku said sharply. “Very well. I think you two will get along nicely. You are dismissed to your duties, Monku.” “My lord,” Monku mumbled, as though uttering the unworthy title caused him physical pain. He bowed stiffly and then turned, placing an arm around Cloud and leading her away from Kyryac toward the exit. “Third time’s the charm, eh, Monku?” Kyryac called after him.

Monku paused. Cloud’s heart raced as he squeezed her shoulder. Her breathing grew shallow, and despite her best efforts to hold still, she trembled head to toe. As Kyryac snickered, Monku hurried her from the tent. “Swine,” he snarled, as they stepped outside. Cloud watched as he released her and paced back and forth, seething. Then he paused and looked at her, the dark storms in his eyes softening. “I’m sorry,” he said, standing over her. “I didn’t mean to frighten you with my anger any more than you already were. You can understand why I can hardly bear his presence. But you did very well, were very brave. Are you all right?” As he caressed her cheek, even without the comfort of his fur, a burst of joy rushed through her. “I am,” she said. “Then, come.” A smile brightened his solemn face. “I want you to meet Mistaff, my best friend. He and his girl, Misty, will have breakfast for us.” As he started through the camp, she followed, her fears replaced by her usual curiosity the further they drifted from Kyryac’s tent. “So, what are your ‘duties’?” “Well, we all take turns guarding the camp,” he said, “but that’s mostly at night. Today, Mistaff and several others are going fishing. Other times, we go hunting or trading with other peoples. Most of the men don’t bring their girls with them, but Misty will be there. Mistaff likes to keep her under his own watch rather than risk her falling under Kyryac’s.” He led her from the camp and into the woods where they soon approached a river. On the banks, several men already fished, all of them bare-chested like Monku. One man in particular with long black hair tended a fire alongside a young woman with thick, ebony curls pulled back into a ponytail; her skin was a warm, earthy brown, and she wore a colorful, flowing dress. As Monku and Cloud neared, she looked up and smiled.

“Hey, Monku,” she called, waving. “Is this your new girl?” Monku nodded and grinned. “Yes.” As he and Cloud reached the fire, the young man and woman stood. “This is Cloud,” Monku announced. “Cloud, this is Mistaff, my closest comrade. And this is Misty.” Mistaff shook Cloud’s hand, smiling warmly and welcoming her, while Misty gave her a tight hug. “I have been weary for a female’s companionship. May we be like sisters to each other.” Misty beamed radiantly. Her dark brown eyes danced with kindness. Cloud loved her at once and smiled in return, a new sort of warmth tingling her heart. Monku turned eager eyes toward Misty. “What do you have for us this morning? Smells delightful.” “Eggs and bacon, my classic,” Misty said in her chipper way. “It’s all done. Please, sit and indulge.” Misty delved into her large basket to present plates and forks and flasks of water enough for all, and soon they sat enjoying the delicious breakfast. “She always plans ahead.” Mistaff beamed at Misty. “Never misses a beat.” After they had devoured the scrumptious breakfast, Monku said, “Well, We should head off. Will you ladies be able to entertain yourselves while we fish?” Misty rolled her eyes. “We’re women, not infidels. Of course we’ll find something to do, won’t we Cloud?” “Of course,” Cloud agreed, giving Monku the same playfully annoyed look. “Let’s go, Mistaff,” Monku said. The two young men jumped up and made for the river, where they began fashioning poles and nets along with the other Monku men. Cloud watched in fascination at how deftly their hands created poles and traps with simple branches and strings and stones. “Too bad we can’t them,” Cloud said.

Misty snorted. “Kyryac would never allow a woman to do anything outside of what he perceives as a female’s ‘duties...’“ “Mmm...” Cloud watched next as Monku carefully placed one of his nets. “You like him, don’t you?” Misty said. Cloud glanced at her and then away, blushing furiously as she caught the impish sparkle in Misty’s eyes. “You haven’t taken your eyes off him. It’s okay. It’s probably best you like him, considering the circumstances.” Cloud stared at Misty curiously. “Don’t you like Mistaff? He seems very kind.” “He is, and I do, but...” She looked away and began picking at the grass, as if trying to choose her next words cautiously. Cloud guessed she’d found few, if any, friends who could truly understand her in this place. “I’ve never been one for marriage,” Misty said at last. “I don’t feel quite ready. He keeps insisting, and I know he’s just trying to keep me safe, but I can take care of myself. I’m not afraid of Kyryac.” She spoke boldly, but the confident gleam in her eyes faltered. “I wish I could have your boldness,” Cloud said. “Kyryac terrifies me.” Misty gave Cloud a forced smile, as if she wasn’t fully certain of her own bravery. Then she brightened again and said, “Well, let’s not just sit here all day. Let’s have some fun, shall we? I brought my drawing pad with me. Brought an extra, in case you’d like to try your hand at it. If not, we can do something else. Come on. We’ll sit in my favorite tree.” The huge tree stretched its lofty limbs high above many of the surrounding trees. Though she had never climbed a tree before, Cloud found herself unafraid and quite deft at climbing. At any rate, she was more than used to heights after living in the clouds for so long. Once they’d scaled the tree and situated themselves comfortably in its natural nooks, Misty handed Cloud the spare pad of paper and a pencil and began to scribble away in her own.

For a moment, Cloud pondered what to draw. She decided on just drawing the scene before her, the river that sparkled in the now fully-risen sun, the wonderful, fresh-smelling trees, the men standing or kneeling to fish... “Whoa, you’re a natural!” Misty exclaimed, her eyes widening as she glanced over at Cloud’s drawing pad. “You put me to shame.” “Thank you,” Cloud said quietly. “It’s actually my first time trying. You really think I’m good?” Misty stared harder still. “If that’s your first time, with some practice, you could be a regular Monet or something.” “Monet? Who’s that?” “He’s this famous painter from Earth-world. One of my favorites. Does a lot of flowers and such...” “Yours is great, too,” Cloud said, studying Misty’s sketch of a rose. “Only because I’ve practiced roses for forever. You’ve really got a knack for it though...” As Misty returned to her drawing, Cloud couldn’t be happier. She had not only found a gentleman for whom her feelings fast blossomed, but she had also discovered her first best friend, a sister of sorts. The circumstances were certainly far from perfect, yet she felt happier than she could feeling in the longest time. The girls ed the rest of the day drawing and chatting until Cloud felt like they were the oldest and truest of friends. As the sun set and the fishermen grabbed up the hundreds of fish they’d caught—some to be stored, some to be sent to the females’ camp, others to be traded or sold—the two ladies descended the tree, and Misty asked, “So, Are you going to come with Monku for the watch?” Cloud tilted her head. “The what?” “Each night, some of the men guard the outskirts of the camp. Tonight, it’s Mistaff and Monku’s turn; they have the first shift, which lasts till midnight,

along the northern outskirts of the camp. I know how Mistaff is…” She rolled her eyes. “…so of course, I come too. If you don’t mind late nights, it could be fun.” Cloud almost told her that staying up all night whenever she pleased was a common activity of hers, but thought better of it. ing Monku’s warning, she feared to say anything that might allude to her true identity as an Elemental, even to this new trusted friend. “No,” Cloud said with a smile, “I don’t mind.” “You two have fun?” Cloud turned to face Monku and found herself taking in her breath, staring wideeyed. In the setting sun, he had transformed back into his cat-like self; his beauty seemed even greater now in the fading golden light than last night inside the tent. Mistaff had also transformed, into a cat-man with sleek black fur. Misty answered for them both, “Yeah, we’ve had loads of fun; she’s a natural artist. Told her about the watch. I assume you’re bringing her, Monku?” Monku nodded. “I’d prefer. Unless you’re very tired and would like to go back to the tent.” He spoke the words skeptically. For him, there was only one acceptable option. “No—I don’t mind,” Cloud managed, finding her composure. “Good then,” Monku said, leading the way back toward camp. The watch involved Cloud and Misty sitting against a tree, observing as the two Monku men paced back and forth and scanned the trees for any signs of danger. “I don’t know why Kyryac has us do this,” Mistaff mumbled. “We haven’t had any real enemies in ages. In all the time I’ve been a guard, nothing has happened.” “We’ve only been guarding a couple of years,” Monku laughed. Cloud’s heart skipped a beat. She loved the way his whiskers twitched, shining like silk in the orange glow of nearby campfires. She stared until she realized

someone stared at her too. Glancing over, she saw Misty studying her with a sly, almost triumphant sort of grin. Cloud couldn’t help but laugh as she relaxed against the tree with a sigh. By the time midnight dawned and the watch ended, Cloud had drifted into a half-sleep, her head resting on Misty’s shoulder. She was semi-conscious as Monku bid Misty good-night and then lifted Cloud in his arms to carry her back to their tent, but not conscious enough to awaken fully. Or perhaps she was just too lazy with contentment as his soothing fur brushed against her skin. He carried her into the tent and laid her down on the cushy pillows, covering her with a blanket. When he didn’t lie next to her, she slowly awakened as voices stirred from outside the tent. Opening her eyes to peer through the tent’s flap, she saw Monku speaking to Mistaff in a hushed, quick tone, his face twisted with a worrisome frown. “Mistaff, I urge you—you must do something, and soon. You know I know what I’m talking about—” “I will not force her,” Mistaff hissed. “I love her, and even if I didn’t, it would be wrong—” “Then convince her!” Monku pleaded. “Marry her and win her some more time; win her safety.” “And you really trust Kyryac to respect our laws and vows of marriage? He will not fear the consequences of breaking such laws, for he is now Head. His father cursed us so that we’re unable to breed with our own, and he’s every bit as crazy and power-hungry. He now is the law, and he could change our laws at a whim! Besides, Misty is truly not yet ready to marry—” “Mistaff, listen to me!” Monku gripped Mistaff’s arms tightly and shook him. “Kyryac would be a fool to break such rules. The female Head would be all over him; his life, not just his Headship, would be at serious risk. As for being ready, if these were normal circumstances, you could wait fifty years. But this isn’t about what you both want. It’s about keeping her safe! I’ve been through this twice now. Do you think he won’t do it to you, as he did to me?” Monku released Mistaff who returned his friend’s pleading stare with one of his own—strong, willful, yet doubtful.

“I know you’re right,” Mistaff consented, taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly. “I must do something. I will speak with her tomorrow.” “Do not wait long, my friend,” Monku warned. “For her sake, and for yours.” Mistaff nodded before slipping into Night’s shadows. Cloud shut her eyes tight, steadying her breath as Monku entered the tent and laid beside her, slipping his arm around her. After a few minutes, he settled into a deep sleep. But sleep would not find her, even in the comfort of his arms, as a fear echoed in her mind—a fear that her dream come true of living in the Below and finding love might become more of a nightmare than she’d bargained for. As an ominous feeling settled on her, she prayed that Misty would be safe. ~*~*~*~ When Cloud woke the next morning, Sun’s warm rays splashed across her face, and she realized that the sunlight shimmered too brightly for dawn. The morning must be late already. She sprang up, fearful that Monku had left without her. But he sat in a corner of the tent, reading a book. He glanced up at her with a smile, his black hair falling lazily across one half of his face, his brown eyes twinkling. “Good morning.” “Morning.” She blinked in the sun’s brilliance and tilted her head. “Aren’t we going to work today?” He laughed softly. “We are off today. Mistaff, too. I think Misty has a picnic planned for us. I told them you were sleeping in, probably not used to our wild schedule.” “Actually,” Cloud said, “I’m used to sleeping at all hours of the day or night. I can do so whenever I wish, as a cloud, you know. Only, I guess I was just so comfortable here.” “Hm, well, if you’re ready to get up, we can head off to them for that

picnic.” Monku took her to a little spring where they both freshened up. Then, he led her back to the tent, declaring he’d forgotten something. “Close your eyes,” he said, as her glance fell curiously on the wooden chest she was certain hadn’t sat in the tent before. She shut her eyes, and the lid creaked open. “All right,” he said. “You can open them...” Opening her eyes, she took in her breath. He held a dress, simple in style, with a high bodice, curved neckline, and flowing skirt, but the material looked magical, shimmering shades of blue and green that alternated as he turned the fabric in the sunlight. She looked from the dress to Monku in awe. “Is it mine? Did you get it for me?” He laughed. “I didn’t get it for myself.” “Oh, it’s so wonderful. No one’s ever gotten me anything before.” She glanced up at him again, brushing a few tears aside. He draped the dress across one shoulder and walked over to kiss her forehead. “I thought you probably didn’t get many gifts living up in the sky. And I thought it would look lovely with your complexion. But do you like it? If not, I can get another on my next trading trip.” “Oh, it’s lovely. The colors make me think of Earth and the forest. It’s wonderful.” She wiped away a few more tears, smiling with sincere excitement. “Well then,” he said, laying the gown across the chest. “I shall leave you to change, if you like.” She nodded, and he left her to her privacy. As she slipped the dress on, its silky folds flowed softer than clouds against her skin. It was so airy, comfortable yet practical and amazingly beautiful all at once. He’d gotten her slippers to match; they somehow perfectly fit her tiny feet, and

she wondered if the clothes were infused with some magic. She stepped from the tent, beaming and blushing, too overcome with a myriad of emotions even to thank him, for fear of stumbling on her words. Still, she hoped her face revealed her intense joy. It must have, for he smiled victoriously, held out his arm, and said, “Shall we go, my sweet and lovely girl?” She proudly took his arm, and they started through the camp. Cloud’s mind whirled in a tizzy. He’d gotten her a dress, a magnificent dress, the first gift she’d ever received in her entire life, and he thought she looked lovely in it... “Good morning, Monku.” Monku stiffened. A moment later, Cloud too recognized the voice and tensed. Kyryac stood before them, smiling coolly. “Good morning, Kyryac,” Monku returned, his voice as stiff as his body. “Good morning, Lady Cloud,” Kyryac said with a nod, turning his intense gaze to her. “And how exquisite you look today.” “Thank you, my lord,” she muttered before glancing away. Kyryac snickered. “See, Monku? At least she knows how to address her master with respect.” “You’re not her master,” Monku snarled. “No, I’m not—for now.” Their gazes met with the same fiery challenge from yesterday. “Well, you and your lady enjoy your day of rest,” Kyryac said. “I must be off on business. A leader’s work is never done, you know.” He brushed past them, his shoulder rubbing against Cloud’s, and she shivered. Monku started forward with her, but Kyryac called, “Oh, I suppose I should tell you that Mistaff might be late for your little outing. I had to summon him for an

important discussion this morning.” A frown of angry concern filled Monku’s face. Cloud’s heart swelled with fear as he placed an arm around her shoulder and hurried her from the camp. They found Misty and Mistaff sitting beside the river. Misty finished sprawling a variety of foods on a red-and-blue-checkered blanket while Mistaff knelt beside her, staring out at the river. Both wore solemn expressions. “Hello,” Monku called. Misty looked up and smiled at them, her face brightening as she waved them over. “Hello! Welcome!” “Good morning, Mistaff,” Monku greeted as he and Cloud sat across from the couple on the soft blanket. “Hello,” Mistaff said, his smile strained. His gaze met Monku’s. “I wonder if I might speak with you a moment in private. The girls can finish setting up—” “Whatever you’ve to say, they can both hear,” Misty snapped, her voice wavering. Cloud felt uneasy. Apprehension weighed heavily in the air, the complete opposite of yesterday’s light- heartedness. Mistaff glanced with hurt at Misty and then turned back to Monku. “Kyryac spoke with me this morning,” Mistaff began. He plucked a piece of grass and began twisting it, contorting it. “He said that his patience would not hold out much longer. He said that even just marrying her wasn’t good enough for him. I must have her and make some attempt to produce a child or he would do so himself. But she refuses to listen to reason—” “I will not have all of this forced upon me, Mistaff!” Misty cried. “I don’t want to, not yet; you know that. Is there no third option? Surely there must be.” “If there was, I would’ve suggested it long ago. Look, if we can just get married and have one child, Kyryac can stop being so obsessed ‘doing our part’ to carry on the Monku line and leave us in peace—”

“But I don’t want to,” she stressed, her voice cracking as she blinked back tears. “I love you, Mistaff, but I just need more time, more time to hold onto what little freedom I have here. I need this to be my choice. Not that it seems like much of a choice—having a child in this place. What a horrible place to raise any child...” Her voice trailed as she glanced away from him. Cloud wished she could offer comforting words but didn’t know how. She glanced at Monku who looked pensive as he said, “I understand how you feel, Misty. We all want to be free from this in some way or other. But we have to accept that we just can’t be as free as we would like. We have to take what freedom we have and work with it. At least if you belong to Mistaff, you will have freedom from Kyryac’s desires, freedom from the fear of what he may do to you...” Monku paused and watched her closely, as if gauging whether his words were sinking in. Quietly, he added, “Kyryac has become a more and more paranoid man. His father, the old Head, cursed us so that we can no longer reproduce with our own. Kyryac feels responsible, in a way. He has made it his mission to make sure we are carrying on the Monku line. His purpose is misguided, but I could almost forgive it, if he was purely noble in his intents, a leader wanting the best for his people. But there’s another side to him, a sadistic side. He’ll do whatever it takes, if he thinks you aren’t doing your part—and sometimes he loses control, goes too far. I’ve seen it, too many times, with too many girls.” Misty said quietly, “Give me today, Mistaff. And then, if you think it is best, I will marry you—tomorrow.” “Are you sure?” He took her hand, and his eyes showed his struggle; he didn’t want to force her into this, but he didn’t want to risk her suffering from Kyryac’s madness either. Misty shrugged. “At least I get to marry someone I love...” She glanced up at him and smiled as best she could. Mistaff kissed her forehead, but his tortured gaze pleaded at Monku, as if imploring his friend to find whatever other, impossible solution. Hoping to distract everyone and lighten the heavy mood, Cloud said, “Well, no use letting all this wonderful food go to waste. Let’s dig in now, shall we?”

The meal was composed of fruits, fresh bread, and tenderly baked pork. Misty had made plenty to last through breakfast, lunch, and dinner, since they planned on spending as much of the day away from the camp as possible. As the day wore on, Mistaff and Misty’s cheery spirits returned. They showed Monku and Cloud a favorite meadow of wildflowers where they ran, laughed, and played like young children. Cloud noticed how well Mistaff and Misty seemed to get along, how they made each other laugh, and felt a bit comforted; they could make a strong couple, in time. Though separated from the camp by only by a thin wall of trees, Cloud felt as though they were a world away. As they romped through the wildflowers, the camp didn’t even need to exist, save as a distant, nightmarish memory. Finally, as the sun began to set, they all laid down together to watch the sky morph from its glorious hues of shifting oranges and reds into a dreamy black sprinkled with diamond stars. Monku took Cloud’s hand, and she turned her face toward his, which was suddenly so close that she could inhale his warm breath as it caressed her cheek. As he inched closer, she closed her eyes, bracing herself for one of her most yearned-after new experiences... She waited what seemed an eternity, only to hear him gently say, “No, not yet.” As she opened her eyes, he had changed into his cat form. Smiling and nodding, she looked toward the sky once more and released a sigh as her pounding heart quieted. What a shame. He looked so much more handsome this way, and she would’ve really preferred to kiss him in this form. Why should he be so hesitant about it? “Misty! Misty!” Cloud and Monku jumped up as Mistaff’s frantic cries continued. Mistaff leapt through the fields toward them, his eyes wild with terror. “Has Misty come this way? Have you seen her?” “No,” Monku said, “I thought she was with you.”

“She went back to the camp to get some cakes she’d made for us,” Mistaff explained in a breathless rush. “She’s been gone too long; she could’ve gotten lost in the woods or hurt or—” “Kyryac,” Monku snarled, bolting toward camp. Mistaff rushed after him, face filled with dread, and Cloud followed. As they neared the camp, Cloud’s heart pounded like a tell-tale drum. She prayed and hoped beneath her breath, but her hopes sounded dim in her mind as the ominous drumming of her heart beat louder and louder... They came in sight of a bright blue tent surrounded by Monku men who stood as somber sentinels. Monku, Cloud, and Mistaff stopped before the tent, and Monku demanded, “Where is the Lady Misty? What has Kyryac done with her?” One of the guards smirked. “It’s not what he’s done. It’s what he’s doing, and having fun doing by the sounds of things...” A pleading cry echoed from within the tent. The next moment, Mistaff lunged on top of the guard, throwing him to the ground and punching him in the nose before he knew what was happening. Monku jumped forward to intervene, but two guards grabbed his arms, holding him back. Anger flitted through Cloud, and she leapt at the guards, but they grabbed her as well, and she pulled against them in frustration. “Where is Misty?” Mistaff shouted, his eyes ablaze with fury. “Why has he taken her? Let me see her!” He scrambled off of the guard he’d attacked and bolted toward the tent, but as soon as his hand clutched its fabric, two other guards jerked him back. “Misty is now the property of Lord Kyryac,” one of the guards snapped. “That’s right,” said the guard Mistaff had pounced on; he stumbled to his feet, holding his bloody nose with a dirty kerchief. “You’ll never see her again...” “All right,” said another guard, “lead them away...” Cloud, Monku, and Mistaff were dragged to another tent surrounded by guards

and thrown inside. Mistaff paced frantically while Cloud watched, huddled in the corner. She could hardly fathom that something horrible was happening to her friend so close by, and yet she was helpless to do anything about it. She rocked back and forth, feeling sick all over. “Mistaff, please, calm down.” Monku reached a hand toward his friend. Mistaff slapped it aside, glaring at Monku. “‘Calm down,’ Monku? As if you would be calm in such a situation!” “There’s nothing we can do,” Monku said. “Exactly! Do you think I would be so frustrated if I didn’t feel so helpless? All I can do is be trapped in here, while that monster...” Mistaff collapsed to the ground with a sob. His whole body trembled with his tears, and he shook his head, as if everything was a bad dream that he would just will away. “It wasn’t your fault,” Cloud said. “She’ll know that. She’ll need you to comfort her. You can still do that much for her.” “Didn’t you hear them?” Mistaff lifted his head to look at her, his gaze narrowed in pain. “Once a lady becomes Kyryac’s, no other man may see her ever again. She’ll become a slave, a prisoner of his, just like those before her, forced to be his bride or, well, I don’t even know what he does with them. I only know I’ll never see her ever again...” The tent flap opened, and one of the guards stepped in, announcing, “The Lord Kyryac is finished. The new Mistress Misty wishes to speak with the Lady Cloud.” Cloud jumped to her feet, but Monku placed a hand firmly on her arm, stopping her. “No,” he said. “I won’t lose you too.” “I must go to her,” Cloud said firmly.

“Monku,” the guard said, and they both glanced up at him. “You know me. I would not deceive you. I assure you he is appeased and has gone back to his own tent for the night.” Monku gave him a long, searching stare before he nodded. “Very well. But I will escort her to the tent myself.” “You know you cannot enter.” “I do.” “Then come.” Monku turned to Mistaff, placed a hand on his shoulder, and said, “I will be back for you, my friend.” “No, Monku, you have done enough tonight,” Mistaff said quietly. “I would like to grieve alone for a while.” “Very well. I will pray for Amiel to send you comfort.” Mistaff gave a subtle nod, and Monku turned and followed Cloud from the tent. Stars sprinkled the sky, twinkling merrily, as if mocking the nightmare committed that night. Cloud knew the Stars, knew they were innocent in their knowledge of the affairs that took place in the Below, but she still wished she could shut out their ironically happy sparkle. Finally, they stood before Kyryac’s tent. The fire lit outside made shadows dance upon the blue fabric. Guards still posted about the tent, though their numbers had diminished since Kyryac’s departure. Cloud glanced back at Monku who nodded at her. Drawing a deep breath, she pulled back the tent’s flap and stepped inside. She gasped and then took several deep breaths, trying to calm her anxious nerves. Misty lay on a palette of pillows and blankets, smiling at up her as though nothing had happened. But her smile could not fool Cloud. Weariness filled her face, along with traces of tears. Her curls fanned out wildly about her head. Traces of blood stained the blanket she nestled beneath, and a bruise

ringed her eye. Of course. It would not have been like Misty to give in without a fight, though Cloud shuddered to think how much worse that had probably made things for her. Attempting a comforting smile, Cloud sat beside her friend who greeted weakly, “Hello.” “I’m so sorry, Misty,” Cloud whispered, her tears overcoming her. “I didn’t invite you here so you could pity me,” Misty said, gently but firmly. “I wanted to see you because you’re my best friend, and because I don’t know if we’ll ever meet ever again.” “You’re like a sister to me…” Cloud took Misty’s hand tightly in her own. “And you’re like a sister to me,” Misty breathed. “Which is why I wanted to see you, give you a last piece of sisterly advice...” “Yes?” “Monku is a good man, Cloud. And I can tell he loves you. Don’t make the same, stubborn mistake I did. Whatever he says to do, do it. It’s not worth all of this. I didn’t think there was a pain worse than physical torture, but that isn’t Kyryac’s way. His main sport, his thrill, is in the way he digs inside your mind, tries to force you, bend you to his will…” She inhaled a long, shuddering breath. Cloud shivered at the wheezing sound, and then Misty began to cough violently. She covered her mouth with the blanket, but as she pulled back, Cloud gasped in horror as blood shone darkly on the fabric. “Misty, what happened? You need a doctor, a healer—what did he do?” “I couldn’t let him take me without a fight.” She smiled faintly. “So I gave him one, and he gave me one right back, forsaking his mind games and attacking me. The healers say his mental magic was too intense, that it poisoned not only my mind, but my body...” “Poison? You mean you—you’re..?” Cloud couldn’t manage the dreadful word as the spiteful tears overwhelmed her once more.

“I love you, my dear friend,” Misty breathed, and then, with a feeble smile and a staggering breath, she closed her eyes. Cloud laid her head on her friend’s chest and hugged her close, weeping bitterly. After crying for what seemed an eternity, Cloud drew back and laid Misty’s hands, now cold, upon her lap, ing the warm embrace those hands once held. She stroked her friend’s beautiful curls, and then she stood, breathing hard, the tears still threatening to defeat her. Cloud turned and ran. She sprinted faster and harder than she’d ever run before, away from the tent and into the woods, not taking any note of the branches reaching out and tearing at her dress, scratching her skin. She could feel no physical pain; the only pain pounded in her heart which felt like it might explode inside her— She cried out as someone caught her in strong arms. She glanced up; Monku held her. She collapsed in his arms, burying her face in his fur and weeping afresh. “She’s gone, Monku; she’s dead...” “I know,” he said softly. “I know...” “Why, Monku?” Cloud pleaded, a part of her vainly hoping that any of it could make sense and, in doing so, ease her pain. “If Kyryac is so bent on needing women to reproduce, why did he kill her?” “This isn’t the first time,” Monku said, “though he does seem to be getting worse. Kyryac’s mind powers are greater than many of ours, and they seem to be growing out of hand. He can’t always control his temper—or his powers. And as our ruler, he refuses to acknowledge his faults or seek aid…” As Cloud shook her head, her face brushed against Monku’s fur, but for once, its warmth did nothing to soothe her. “I can’t stay here,” she whispered. “Not after what he did to her. And he could do it to me, to anyone else. Why doesn’t anyone try to stop him?”

“A few have tried, but he’s too strong. We would all need to stand against him together, and right now, there is too much fear. Fear divides us, instead of uniting us against him…” “I can’t stay in this horrible place any more,” Cloud repeated. “This horrible place with its horrible memories. I can’t...” “I wish I could take you from here.” “Then why don’t you?” His body tensed. She regretted her words, knowing he must suffer too. When her silence yet demanded an answer of him, he said, “Because the woods are only safe so far. There are guards further out, watching the perimeter of our borders. We wouldn’t get far unless we were very clever.” “You’re clever enough. Monku, I can’t stay here after what they’ve done to her...” “Shh, I know it’s hard. I know what it is to lose someone you love more than anything in the world...” After a few moments, Cloud whispered, “Maybe it’s not worth it after all then— living in this world. Maybe it’s better just to die...” “No, Cloud, no,” Monku urged, holding her so tight it hurt to breathe, but she only snuggled closer to him. “You must never say that. This life can be wonderful too. We all have a purpose here. Misty was a great friend to us. Now we must go on, discover our own purposes.” Cloud sighed deeply. “I wish she could’ve gone more peacefully, and I wish...if I could just have one more day...” “I think she had a good last day with you,” Monku said, easing his tight hold and stroking her hair. He held her face in his hands. “I want you to know that I will always be here for you. I don’t want you to ever be afraid. I will be here for you —always.” Her breathing grew shallow as they stood so close. The soft fur of his hands

made her whole body tingle as he placed them on her shoulders and slid them gently up and down her arms. She gazed up into his enchanting eyes. He brushed the tears from her cheek, and then placed that same hand tenderly on the back of her head. Their faces drew closer to one another... “No,” he said, jerking back, leaving Cloud stunned and confused at once. Monku recovered with a smile, though he was not quite successful in masking his nervousness. “No kissing...not yet...” It sounded like he meant the last two words as a promise, and his smile brightened. She smiled back but knew she couldn’t conceal her disappointment. Even if he wasn’t ready, couldn’t he have at least given her a kiss to comfort her? A small one? His shyness or whatever held him back didn’t stave the craving for affection swelling inside her. But perhaps she was just being selfish. She wouldn’t ache for his touch so strongly if she hadn’t just lost the only other friend she’d ever known, and perhaps that was no good reason at all to be affectionate. “Come.” He took her hand. “Let’s go to bed. It’s been a hard night for both of us.” She silently followed him back to the tent where he let her change in privacy out of her new dress. Cloud felt disappointed in herself as she saw how tattered her new gown was from her flight through the woods; it was just another reminder of the death and destruction that haunted this place. As they lay down together, sleep’s comforting hands refused to cradle Cloud. A myriad of troubled thoughts overwhelmed her weary body and strained heart. “Monku,” she said, after some time had ed. “Can I ask you something?” “Of course.” He drew her closer to him. “How is it that you and Mistaff…that some of you turned out okay, living in these terrible conditions? How is it that you keep faith in Amiel? Keep such right and true morals?” “We haven’t lived here in this camp that long, you know. The male Monkus live

with their moms until they’re sixteen. So I’ve only lived here a couple of years...” “You had a good mother then, I guess.” “The best. She taught me all about Amiel, about what’s wrong and right, how women should be treated. And she taught me how to keep my faith strong in situations like this, knowing I would one day be forced into it. It’s because of her that I don’t blind myself as many others do. I know that forcing a girl to marry me is no better than forcing myself upon her in the first place. I could never justify such an action, nor have I ever tried to, unlike so many around me. Instead, I’ve tried to avoid conforming to Kyryac’s ways altogether.” For a while he was silent, and she thought that he had finished answering her question. But then, slowly, he added, “There was something else. Something else I’ve never told anyone, not even Mistaff...” Cloud nuzzled her head against his chest, a silent encouragement for him to continue. “…I once had a sister named Elissa whom I loved more than anything. One day, she returned from a walk in the woods claiming she’d met the most wonderful man. Only when Mom and I questioned her, she couldn’t anything else, what they had done or said together. She only had the feeling, the knowing that he’d been wonderful. At first, we thought she’d made it up. She was prone to making up fanciful stories. But each day, it continued, the same story. And then one day, she disappeared altogether. “I received a letter from her saying that she’d been captured by a wicked man who hurt her mind—much like Kyryac. She feared him most because of some sort of head game he played with her. She could never what he did to make her afraid of him. She just knew she was afraid. I looked for her, snuck out of the camp and received repeated beatings for crossing our borders to search for her. But all was vain, and I never received another letter from her. Until a few days ago, not long before you came...” “Yes?” Cloud prompted gently. “She was rescued by a Star,” he said. “A Star who made her Night, a queen of the sky.”

Cloud gasped. “Your sister is the new Night?” “You know her?” “I have spoken with her a bit, and she is very beautiful and kind.” “And happy, you think?” “Yes. Very happy.” He sighed. “Good. But now you understand why I could never imagine taking advantage of any girl the way my sister was. That’s a big part of it, I think, my ability to keep strong even in the hardest of times. I think of her and her strength, and I thank Amiel that she is safe and ask Him to help me ensure your safety. And that includes treating you like a lady, as you deserve.” He hugged her even closer to him. Soon, he drifted to sleep, and Cloud plunged into the loneliness of her thoughts once more. Her thoughts turned again to Misty, and she wept. Mingled with the deep sorrow she felt for her friend was the anxiety of what could happen to her too. Perhaps Kyryac would be satisfied for a while, having tormented and murdered Misty, or perhaps that would only fuel his paranoia about reproducing and he would come for Cloud. Should she marry Monku? It still felt too ludicrous to decide so quickly, but the warnings of both Misty and her death haunted. ~*~*~*~ The next couple of days ed too quietly without Misty’s presence. As usual, Cloud accompanied Monku on his duties, taking her sketchbook with her, for she’d promised herself to keep practicing in Misty’s honor. It seemed that Monku kept a much closer watch on her than before. He glanced up at her more often, and when they stopped to eat lunch or supper, he hovered ever at her side. Mistaff kept silent for the most part, speaking to hardly anyone save Monku and Cloud. Even then, he said very little. Cloud understood that he still grieved in his own way, and she knew Monku understood as well. Her favorite times were the nights when Monku held her in his arms, whispering

“sweet somethings,” as she’d lovingly dubbed them—for how could the caress of such tender words really be considered “sweet nothings”?—and almost kissing her... Almost, but never quite. His face so often hovered near hers. The tension between their pressing bodies radiated great desire, intensifying with each ing moment. And yet, at the last, he always found the reserve to wrench himself away. She always found herself confused and and disappointed, especially as she felt Kyryac’s watchful eye upon her with each ing day. Why? Why did Monku hesitate for a mere kiss when her life might be on the line, same as Misty’s? The question plagued her constantly, yet she was too respectful of his privacy to inquire. Wouldn’t it be better for him to assert his affection and love toward her? That is, if he did love her, as Misty had believed. Cloud thought she believed it too, for he constantly reassured her in so many ways, especially with his hushed, poetic whispering in her ear as he held her close. How those mere words caused her whole body to shudder with longing. His constant attention only intensified her desire to receive that first kiss from him, and especially for him to make her his own. ~*~*~*~ Slivers of moonlight slipped into the tent as the wind gently blew the tent flap open and shut. The light fell across his face, his chest, his arms, illuminating his silvery fur as if each hair was made of magical moonbeams. She traced her hand along his face, along the black, silver, and white tufts on his cheeks and cat-like ears. How beautiful he looked. And how she loved him. If only she hadn’t been so shy as to just kiss him earlier that afternoon, when he didn’t seem so reproachful toward the concept. But had it truly been shyness? Oh, she had definitely felt timid leaning so close to him, especially when he was the one to so often take the lead in their moments of ion. She had so wanted to kiss him. Yet somehow, as he slept here peacefully, she desired to kiss him even more than earlier. Perhaps while he slept, perhaps while he didn’t even know, to help her overcome her shyness...

Leaning down gently, she kissed him so softly on the lips. A spark ignited within her, and her lips kissed his more fervently, transforming the spark into a raging heat that surged through every inch of her body, especially as he woke and began kissing her back. Finally, after what seemed the most gloriously eternal moment in her life, he drew her away gently, iring her with a sleepy smile. She grinned with unimaginable happiness, and her heart danced with a strange sense of victory. Then, his sleepy eyes widened, fully awake. “What have you done?” he growled, leaping to his feet and storming from the tent. Cloud sat stunned. What had she done? Had she been too forward? He’d so seemed to enjoy sharing that precious and much-yearned-for moment of heightened ion with her, to relish forging that new bond of intimacy... Scrambling up and exiting the tent, she found him pacing outside. “Monku, I’m sorry; whatever I did wrong—” “Didn’t I tell you not to kiss me, not yet?” He turned on her, his gaze filled with regret, before he wrenched away again. “Did you not want me to kiss you?” she asked, choking back tears. “Don’t you think I’ve wanted to kiss you all these days? Of course I have! But the time was never right, and now—don’t you know what you’ve done?” “How can I? You never told me why I shouldn’t kiss you. So why are you doing this now? I’ve waited so long for this, and now you’re acting like it’s this curse instead of something beautiful we just shared…” He stopped pacing and faced her, his voice softening. “Because kissing is not only one of the most intimate things that can be shared between two people; it is also a part of our curse. When we are kissed by one we love, whatever form we are in, that is how we will stay the rest of our lives…” He hung his head. “I will never look like a normal human ever again.” Cloud gasped—not in horror, which Monku seemed to feel, but in surprise. A

part of her wanted to tell him he was being silly, but as the other part of her realized how selfish she had been, she found herself reaching out and touching his soft cheek, hoping to comfort him. “I’m sorry, Monku. I never wanted to make you feel this way. I’m sorry for only thinking of myself…” His sadness softened into tenderness as he took her hand from his cheek and held it. “I don’t want you to feel guilty. It isn’t selfish that you wanted to kiss me. I should’ve explained why I was so hesitant; I’m wrong to get so upset with you when you didn’t know.” Cloud shook her head. “Thank you, but you have every right to feel upset. And it really was selfish of me.” “What do you mean?” “Because the reason I kept wanting to kiss you when I did was because… because I find you the most beautiful this way. So I really wanted our first kiss to be with you looking like this. Maybe I should’ve asked you about it; I know how much you dislike this look. But then again, I really wish you could understand how beautiful you are this way.” “You really mean that?” Monku still looked uncertain, but a bit of confidence returned to his eyes, and he straightened his shoulders. “You truly prefer me this way?” “Yes. I mean, you’re beautiful regardless. But I’ve always loved your cat form best. Maybe because it’s the first way I saw you, and I fell in love with you right then. Maybe because of the way your fur feels soft and comforting when you hold me. And the way it shimmers in the moonlight...” Cloud paused and studied him, hoping her words soothed him further. Suddenly, he laughed. Cloud tilted her head. “What? What is it?” “It’s just occurred to me, that the reason it took us so long to kiss in the first place, is because I so stubbornly wanted to kiss you as a human, and you

stubbornly wanted to kiss me as a cat-man. I suppose if we’d both communicated how we felt, we might have gotten to kiss much sooner.” Cloud laughed in turn. “I guess you’re right. But then…you’re not still upset? I really am sorry. I don’t want you to feel ‘stuck’ like this. I want you to feel beautiful, the way I see you, because you really are.” He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. “It’s going to be an adjustment for me. But if you think I’m beautiful, if you can love me like this, then I will learn to love myself this way too. I was always worried you wouldn’t want me this way, because you’re so beautiful, and I’ve never seen myself that way. I’m truly the most blessed Monku in this camp to have you. You’re gorgeous, both outside and in your heart. I’ll try my best to accept this new form, to see what you see.” “I don’t just accept you,” she said, gazing up at him. “I love you this way.” “I love you too, Cloud, just as you are.” She offered him a small, hopeful smile. He kissed her. He kissed her for a long time until his fiery ion spread from his lips to the innermost depths of her heart and body. She wrapped her arms around him, burying herself in the glorious velvet of his fur and grasping his body close to hers. When they at last separated, he said quietly, “I know this is wretched timing, especially as I’ve just made a fool of myself, but...I was planning on proposing to you soon, and now seems as good a time as any.” The ecstasy remaining from their kiss swelled inside her ten-fold as she searched his gaze, needing his words to be real and not just some dream. “It’s not an entirely romantic gesture, I’m afraid,” he said. “Kyryac desires you more each day, and now that he’ll know we’ve kissed, he’ll expect more. He’ll expect us to consummate our relationship and become pregnant as soon as possible, or else he could force you from me. I would try to stop him, but I don’t know if I could, or who would be on my side.” “I would be honored to marry you,” she said steadfastly.

Surprise flashed on his face, and then he smiled playfully. “I haven’t even shown you the ring yet though...” “A ring?” she gasped. “You didn’t have to…” “Oh, come on,” he said. “Even if this is by far one of the weirdest situations two people who want to marry have ever been in, it doesn’t mean I can’t uphold at least some traditions? Now, where is it..?” Delving his furry hand deep into his pocket, he drew out a tiny, white box. “My dearest Cloud,” he said tenderly, “I have come to love you with all my heart and can think of no one else I’d like to spend the rest of my days with. Will you marry me?” Monku opened the box. Within shone a white-gold band shaped like two vines entwined together, with small, glittering white stones shaped like a flower. As the ring glowed faintly, Cloud felt almost certain it must be magic. She stared at it a few moments, her breath accelerating as a new exhilaration overwhelmed her. “Yes,” she breathed. “Oh, yes.” He kissed her long and ionately once more. Then, as they drew back, her face still cupped in his hands, she said, “I suppose that means you accept my ‘yes’.” He laughed. “I suppose you’re right.” Taking her hand gently in his, he slipped the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly. She turned it in the moonlight, iring its glitter, and then she turned back to him, beaming. “Are we going to talk about it now—the wedding I mean?” His eyes danced. “Anxious, are we?” “Well, you yourself said it’s in my best interest to do things sooner, and I’m so curious besides. I know nothing of Monku weddings.” “Well,” he said, “Monku marriages are not like most. We have no holy men to bless them. It’s merely an exchanging of symbolic items and a giving away of

hearts to each other. And then we ask Amiel’s bleson the marriage as we perform the ritual ourselves.” She asked eagerly, “Can we do it tonight?” He laughed. Her face fell as she worried that he might not understand how serious she was, but then he asked, “Do you really want to?” “I’ve already said ‘yes’. If we were in a more normal situation, we’d want time to plan some fancy wedding. But that’s not really important, and I don’t need one anyway. I just...I just want to be with you...” Her voice faded to a timid whisper at these last words. As he lifted her chin, smiling gently, the deep longing his eyes promised the same, even before he spoke it aloud: “I want to be with you too.” Then he took her hand. “Well, good thing for you, I already have the perfect spontaneous wedding all planned out. Shall we get to it?” She nodded and followed after him, her stomach churning as though a whole host of butterflies took flight inside her. This was it. She, Cloud of the Elementals, who had sworn herself to a lifetime of loneliness only days past, was marrying the most handsome man with the most comionate heart in all Bienvinette. Monku led her into the woods, nodding casually at the ing guards. Once they had trekked a little ways into the forest, he said, “All right now, I want you to close your eyes until we get there. Don’t worry; I’ll guide your steps.” She gave him a curious smile before closing her eyes, heart pounding with the elation of their imminent marriage and the unknown surprise beyond the wooded path. He guided her steps ever so carefully, telling her to pause so he could push tree limbs out of her way, helping her step over roots, and sweeping her skirt aside so it didn’t snag any branches. Finally, he brought her to a halt. A serene whooshing noise greeted her ears. “All right,” he said. “Now, open your eyes.”

As Cloud opened them, she stared in breathless wonder. They stood on the brink of a shimmering lake, which was created by a little waterfall pouring over a short, moss-covered cliff. Above the water, dozens of tiny fairies hovered, their glow shining like stars on the lake’s crystalline surface. “Oh, Monku,” Cloud breathed. “It’s the loveliest place I’ve ever seen.” “I’m glad you like it. Come on.” Still holding her hand, he led her to sit with him beside the lake. All along the water’s edge, tiny, white blossoms opened, glistening in the moonlight. “Do you know what these are?” He gently plucked several and began weaving them together. She shook her head, watching intently as his hands wove them together so deftly. “They are moon blossoms. A rare and special flower that we use in our wedding ceremonies. They are used because once the moon touches their petals, they open and never again close or fade; they are a symbol of everlasting love. We generally just exchange an anklet, bracelet, or necklace of moon blossoms, and that’s it. The ceremony is that simple. But I wanted something more special, so I brought you here, to my favorite place. I would’ve showed you before, only I wanted to wait for just the right time. I come here to get away from everything in the camp. It’s like living in a dream for a time...” She took a moment to gaze out at the lake, at the fairies floating above it. Then, she glanced down at the shining flowers, brushed her fingertips along their soft, sweet-smelling petals. They felt lighter than air. It amazed her that such delicate creations possessed the strength to endure forever. She too began picking the flowers, watching Monku’s nimble hands and trying to mimic his weaving patterns, though to no avail. As she sighed in frustration, he took her hands in his and said, “It’s okay. Let me show you.” She nodded with a grateful smile.

He repeated the motions more slowly, and after a little while, she caught on. Together they weaved, and a reverent silence descended upon them, save for the waterfall’s singing. When the rings of flowers were completed—Monku had made a necklace, Cloud an anklet—Monku said with hushed veneration, “Now, we can make whatever vows we want, as long as we end them with the words, ‘Amiel bless the love of this Monku and this lady.’ These sacred words are a prayer that will seal the marriage, binding us to each other in the sight of our Creator and Protector Amiel.” A pause ed between them until Cloud glanced up at him and asked, “Am I supposed to go first?” He laughed softly. “If you want to.” She took a deep breath and let the words spill over her heart and from her lips, “Monku, I don’t really have much to say except that I love you, and I’m so glad Amiel let me come to the Below and find you. And I’m so very happy that you love me too, and that you want to spend all your life with me. So...Amiel bless the love of this Monku and this lady.” She slipped the anklet about his foot. He smiled tenderly, reaching out to stroke her hair and declaring, “And I love you, more than anything or anyone in this world, and I too thank Amiel for bringing us together and pray we may live a long, happy life together. Amiel bless the love of this Monku and this lady.” He slipped the necklace over her head, and the moon blossoms of both the necklace and anklet began to glow. When the glow faded, Cloud touched her necklace and gasped. It was hard and cool to the touch. “Pure white gold,” Monku explained with a grin. “Did I mention that the moon blossoms were magical, and the vows sacred?” “I think you did...” She gazed upon him in wonder. A blush crept to her cheeks as his gaze lingered on her. Finally, as the wonderful, unbelievable truth dawned upon her, she whispered, “So, we’re actually married now.”

“Yes.” He stroked her hair. “We’re married now.” He leaned in, kissing her. They shared a long, tender kiss, with the spray of the waterfall kissing their skin. When he pulled back, still cradling her head in his hands, he asked with a playful twinkle in his eye, “Shall we go for a swim?” “Now?” “Yes. The water’s always warm, and no one else ever comes here.” She smiled. “All right then.” He helped her to her feet, and she started toward the water. However, when she noticed he didn’t follow her, she paused and glanced back. With a small gasp, she saw him undoing the buttons on his tros and glanced away. “Monku,” she said quietly, “what are you doing?” He paused and glanced up with a grin. “Well, one can’t comfortably go for a swim in one’s clothes.” “But, um...” He smiled gently. “Would you feel better getting in first, and then I’ll you?” She nodded, quickly turning and making her way down to the river, all the while scolding her girlish foolishness. Being married didn’t suddenly make the situation any less awkward, as she’d always imagined it would. Even though he’d turned away from her, she felt very timid and self-conscious as she slipped out of her dress. These were the sorts of things she’d always known would come along with falling in love and getting married, but as a naive creature, she’d never really configured any of these awkward moments into any of her daydreams about marriage... She quickly slipped beneath the protection of the lake. A few minutes later, she heard a splash behind her and turned. Monku swam toward her, still grinning.

“It’s not so bad, is it?” “The water’s warm, but I feel very...awkward,” she itted, glancing away. Monku swam up to her, placed his arms about her waist, and drew her close. “I think you’re beautiful. I know this is all new to you, but you don’t have to feel awkward around me.” “But I do…” She sighed as a strange warmth filled her; their bodies hovered so close beneath the water, and she sank against his velvety fur. He laughed softly, eyes dancing, and then he kissed her again. She found herself lost in the kiss until water splashed in her face, and she pulled back, scolding him. “Monku!” “It wasn’t me—” A bell-like giggle announced the tiny, glowing fairies who encircled them, hovering close as if watching a romantic drama. Cloud soon forgot her timidity as she and Monku waged a splashing war against the fairies, diving, swimming, and laughing along with the tiny people until they grew tired of their play and flitted off, leaving the two alone. Floating in Monku’s arms in the middle of the lake, Cloud felt even more weightless than when she’d once drifted amongst the clouds. She loved how the moon and stars reflected in his eyes, alluring her with memories of the home she had once shared with the Stars. “Are you ready?” he asked tenderly. “Is it too soon?” “I think I’m ready,” she whispered, trying to sound much braver than she felt. “But I...I was hoping our first time might be in our tent. You could, you know, carry me over the threshold, and then...” “Whatever the lady likes, to make her feel comfortable and special.”

Cloud dressed in private on the shore. Then Monku slipped his pants back on and carried her through the woods to the camp. She kept her arms hugged around his neck, snuggling close to his velvety chest. Her entire body tensed with excitement, nervousness, and a fear. Not a fear of Monku, for she already knew he would be gentle and patient. Only a fear of the unknown, but her love and trust of Monku pulsed stronger than that fear. He crossed the threshold and laid her among the fluffy pillows and blankets, securing the flap of the tent so that nothing could enter save the smallest sliver of silvery moonlight glinting in his dark, dancing eyes. He lay beside her, kissing her sweetly, caressing her hair, her arms and legs, sending shivers coursing through her. She caressed his face, the soft fur on his cheeks. Delving deeper into his kisses which intensified more and more ardently, she hardly even noticed as he slipped her dress off. She hardly felt any nervousness as he began to stroke and kiss her in ways that made her feel more wonderful than she could ever have imagined. As they tenderly made love, it was the most exhilarating feeling she had ever experienced, especially because it was with the man she loved more than anything in the world. Once they’d finished, bodies exhausted but still entwined, her heart pounded with a love that had grown so incredibly in only the past few hours. He kissed her again and held her close. Burrowing into the downy fur of his chest, she drifted into the deepest, most peaceful sleep. ~*~*~*~ Cloud stirred as sunlight warmed her face. She turned over to bury herself once more in Monku’s soft fur— She woke abruptly as only cool, hard earth met her touch. Opening her eyes, she sat up, glancing about the tent. Where had he gone? Crawling over to the tent flap, she peered through, looking left then right—just in time to see Monku disappearing between two tents. Ducking back inside the tent, she dressed quickly before bursting out to pursue him. She caught sight of him and almost ran to catch up, till she realized the

direction he headed in. The only significant thing she knew of in that direction was Kyryac’s tent, a place she had no desire to revisit any time soon. Memories of Misty’s death stabbed fresh at her mind; that had been her last memory in his tent. Still, while she didn’t wish to see Kyryac, she felt curious at Monku’s purpose. More than that, she felt an overwhelming protectiveness toward him, grown greater since last night, so she followed at a distance. Sure enough, Monku soon slipped inside Kyryac’s tent. Cloud crept around the side, trying to catch their conversation; she heard curt words expressed but could make nothing out clearly. She resolved then to stand near the entrance and wait. Moments later, Monku emerged, looking like a storm on the verge of exploding with full force until he saw her and stopped short in surprise. The storm in his eyes broke as he gently pulled her aside, leading her away from the tent. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice still curt, though she could tell he tried not to be. “I wanted to know you were okay,” Cloud said. “What did the two of you talk about?” “I was only telling him about our marriage—and its consummation. I’m sorry I disappeared, but I wanted to spare you the stress and embarrassment of having to stand before him while he asks the most infuriating personal questions...” Monku almost growled the last words, and Cloud turned to face him, bringing him to a halt. Gazing up at him, she said, “Thank you. But it’s done now. We did what he asked. We’re safe now, right?” Monku breathed deeply and stroked her hair. “Of course. Of course we are.” The hesitation in his voice made her wonder whether she fully believed him. A chill trembled through her heart; she hated to see the doubt in his eyes, and after they had done everything Kyryac required of them. What more could he possibly want? Cloud didn’t want to show her fear. Monku had been so strong for her; now she would do the same for him.

“Then,” she said, taking his hands, “let’s not think any more on him or let him spoil our day.” Monku took several deep breaths, and a smile gradually softened his face. “You’re right. We’re safe now. Free to be together. Let’s forget all about Kyryac and enjoy this beautiful day together.” ~*~*~*~ The days ed, and still, Cloud followed Monku everywhere, distrusting Kyryac’s supposed intentions to consider her off-limits even though she was now Monku’s wife. Monku didn’t seem to trust him either, for at times throughout the day, she would catch them glaring with some secret challenge at one another in ing. Cloud also felt Kyryac watching her daily, as if he hungered for her more now that he could not have her. But at night, they forgot all their fears. In those vital, precious moments together, nothing else mattered. They could forget everything but each other and their love. Gradually, as the days wore on, Kyryac showed his face less and less until he stopped haunting them altogether. Cloud could only feel relief but was unsure Monku felt the same way, as his protectiveness over her intensified. ~*~*~*~ Cloud woke once more to a cold emptiness beside her. Wondering how it could be morning already, she opened her eyes, only to find darkness yet shrouded her, while moonlight glinted through the partially open tent flap. Cloud started to get up to see if she could find Monku, when voices outside caught her attention. She drew still, listening to the hushed but frantic mutterings. Creeping a little closer to the tent flap, she recognized Mistaff, gesturing wildly in a panic, “Do you honestly think that being married will keep Kyryac from breaking his word? He’s becoming even more sadistic; there’s talk of him losing his mind, but no one will dare confront him, for fear of their lives, their families’ lives...And if

you have children, what then? Do you think he will not torment them, take them from you, force them into the same slavery he’s forced all of us into? We all have someone we love, someone we’ve lost to this place, someone we hope vainly to see again...” Mistaff’s voice cracked, and Cloud’s heart broke as she knew he ed Misty. “You still have the chance, Monku,” Mistaff continued. “If you love her as you say you do, then you should take the risk. Run, flee, take her as far from this place as you can...” Cloud heard the soft padding of feet recede. As Monku entered the tent, face filled with somber concern, Cloud looked up at him. Surprise flashed in his eyes, and then he sank beside her, drawing her close into his arms. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised by now, my clever little spy.” He gave a half-hearted laugh, a feeble attempt to lighten the mood. “You don’t have to do that,” Cloud said, “try to make me feel better. I understand how serious this is.” “I know,” Monku said, “which is why I’ve already decided: I won’t let him take you as he did Misty. We’re leaving. Tomorrow night.” Cloud wrapped her arms around his and pulled him closer to her. They would leave this place behind at last. Her heart both soared and cavorted anxiously with the thought of embarking on what might prove a very dangerous new adventure. But she was ready to do it with Monku at her side. She was ready to find a true home for the both of them. ~*~*~*~ The next night, as Monku departed for his watch, he commanded Cloud to stay put in their tent.

“I’ll come for you when the time is right,” he promised, “and then we’ll leave. Try and get some sleep; we’ll likely be traveling all night, to put as much distance between us and Kyryac as we can.” Cloud lay in the tent, trying to sleep, but as the hours dragged past, anticipation and a mounting anxiety robbed her of any chance to do so. After a while, the tent flap opened, and someone stepped inside. Cloud sat up with a smile. Seeing him faintly silhouetted by the moonlight from beyond the tent, she called, “Monku?” No answer came. He walked slowly forward and knelt beside her. A warning stirred within her. Something didn’t feel right. “I am not Monku,” the voice said. Her heart nearly stopped, and then it pumped even faster. “What do you want, Kyryac?” she managed in a voice barely above a whisper. “I know what you are.” His tone threatened, and she gasped. He crawled closer to her. “I know what you are, and that Monku plans to make off with you and keep all your power to himself.” “If he plans to go anywhere with me, I don’t know of it.” She tried to sound brave. “As for my powers, I wouldn’t know how to give them to you even if I wanted to—” “I assure you no one will be going anywhere without letting me have what should be mine. Give them to me; give me what I seek...” If she thought he was menacing in the daylight, he was even more so now as he sat too close, concealed by shadows, his intentions and thoughts obscured in the darkness but written clearly, frighteningly in his voice. “Give me what I seek!” he demanded. “I tell you I can’t!” Her small bit of bravery vanished, and she prayed for Monku to come. “I don’t know how!”

“Then you will give me what you are able...” He grabbed her wrists, forcing her back. His heavy body pinned hers down, rendering her struggles powerless. Someone dove into the tent, wresting Kyryac’s body from hers. For a moment, she lay stunned, breathing hard. Snarls, hisses, and a shout of pain roared through the tent. Sitting up, she could see the outline of two figures fighting each other. One of the figures threw the other to the ground and grabbed her, pulling her to her feet. She punched at him, but Monku cried, “It’s me! Let’s go!” Recognizing his soft fur and reassuring voice, she followed him as they fled from the tent, hand-in-hand. Moments later, Kyryac shouted, “After them! Kill the traitor! Keep the girl and do what you will with her, but to keep her alive, for she is mine!” As padded feet scurried after them, their quiet footfalls sounded like thunder in Cloud’s ears. Hearing a cat-like screech, she turned back long enough to see Mistaff and several others trying to stave the mob, launching into a vicious fight. There weren’t enough resistors on Mistaff’s side to hold off Kyryac’s followers for long. Monku pulled Cloud into the thick cover of the woods. Using his keen vision to lead the way, he told her to leap over a root or duck a branch just in time. The trees thinned into a wide, grassy field. Cloud glanced back. No one pursued them. Somehow this troubled her more than if she’d seen a mob twice the size of Kyryac’s tracking them. She knew Kyryac wouldn’t give up that easily. Perhaps she hadn’t seen his face, but she had felt his determination when he’d pinned her to the ground… She screamed as the faces of the mob flashed on her left, racing alongside her and Monku through the grassy fields. As she turned her head, she saw them pursuing on the right as well. They planned to trap them on both sides. “Monku—”

“I know. We can’t outrun them. I will have to fight—” Several things happened at once. Cloud glanced over to see Kyryac running almost parallel with her. The next moment, he seemed to abruptly trip and fall to the ground. Someone cried out, several others groaned in pain, and more of the mob began toppling around them. “Jump!” Monku shouted. Cloud leapt over what looked like a large tree root that arched up from the ground before vanishing just as swiftly. The earth rippled beneath their feet as though the tree root followed them. Sure enough, as one of the Monkus jumped out in front of them, the tree root erupted from the earth with lightning-fast speed, coiled around him, and flung him aside. In fact, glancing skyward, Cloud saw several more Monkus flying overhead, yowling. They emerged from the grassy plains and approached the forest’s border once more when Cloud gasped, “It’s Mother Earth!” A green-skinned woman stood at the woods’ edge, facing them. She concentrated hard, and Cloud knew she commanded the trees to aid them. “Mother Earth,” Monku began as they stopped before her, “thank you for saving me and my—” “No time for idle talk. To my cottage, my children. I’ll lead the way.” Monku turned with Cloud and fled after Earth into the woods. Cloud was surprised at how quickly she and Monku were able to move. She had viewed these woods from the Above so many times that she was sure they should be much denser. As the earth shivered beneath them, she glanced down to see that the roots still followed them just beneath the ground. Looking up again and all around her, she realized that as Earth led them, the trees moved aside, creating a clear path. They burst into a clearing where a two-story cottage rose before them.

“Quickly!” Earth shouted. “Into the cottage!” Monku hurried Cloud inside, scrambling in after her. “Mother Earth!” he cried, rushing back outside as she stood before the house, facing the woods, entirely still. “Protect your wife!” Earth snapped. “Up the stairs!” Monku hesitated before dodging back inside to grab Cloud’s hand and hurry her up the steps into a spacious bedroom. They watched breathless from the cover of Night’s shadows, glimpsing through the window as Earth stood still, her feet planted firmly, as if she intended to take on the entire mob herself. The ground began to tremble and then split apart. Vines and roots sprang up, spraying dirt into the air like brown geysers erupting all around the cottage. Cloud screamed, jumping in surprise as the roots twisted up to cover the window, submerging the room in nearly total darkness. The rumbling lasted a few moments more before abruptly halting. Soft footsteps soon echoed on the stairs. A moment later, the door creaked open, and Earth stood in the doorway, holding a lamp that illuminated her beaming smile. “That was a close one, to be sure,” she itted. “But they’ll never find us now. I turned the house into a tree house. Literally. They won’t be able to tell the difference between it and the rest of the trees.” Cloud gasped in wonder as she glanced around the room. The walls were now rounded and constructed of rough tree bark. Earth had encased them inside an actual tree, like a caterpillar wrapping itself inside a cocoon. “Thank you,” Monku said. “You can’t know what this means to us, you protecting us like this...” “Yes, thank you. It’s so amazing,” Cloud said, still glancing about in awe. “I consider all the inhabitants of Bienvinette my children, mine to love and

protect,” Earth said. With a shrug, she added, “Besides, it was time for me to redo my interior decorating anyway. Otherwise I get bored. I once stayed in a willow for ten years, and that’s more than enough time to live in a willow, I can assure you...” Her green eyes twinkled playfully, and Cloud returned the smile as she recalled watching that willow from the clouds. “Well, I expect you two will be wanting to get some sleep now,” Earth said. “You can sleep in here. You will find night clothes for your use as well. Always have to keep stock for when unexpected guests arrive, you know. You two aren’t the only stray couple I’ve ever taken in. In fact, I rarely have guests under normal circumstances.” She grinned warmly. “Ah well, keeps life interesting. You two have a good sleep now. I’ll leave the lamp.” She set the lamp on the table beside the large canopy bed, where nightclothes had been carefully laid out. As they thanked Earth again and bid her good-night, she smiled and shut the door quietly behind them. “Well,” Monku said, sighing and smiling wearily as he gazed down at Cloud, stroking her hair. “Not exactly how I expected it to happen, but...we’re finally free.” “Free...” Cloud closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to soak up the meaning of the word more fully by inhaling the fresh air. “And,” he added, and Cloud opened her eyes, “it’s the first night that we get to sleep in an actual bed together.” She returned his grin, wondering if the lamplight showed the scarlet in her cheeks. He nodded toward the bed, and she nodded in agreement. They changed into the comfortable, airy nightclothes. Cloud soon heard only her pounding heart, her mind a jumble of confused yet thrilling emotions. They crawled into the soft, warm bed, and she nestled in his strong, warm arms. For a while, he held her, caressing her hair, massaging her head. Her heart continued to race with anticipation until he finally began to kiss her. Within moments, she’d lost herself in that kiss as all that mattered was them.

~*~*~*~ Cloud lay in Monku’s arms, gazing up at the bed’s canopy. He had fallen asleep some time ago, but surprisingly, she did not feel content enough to drift into a peaceful slumber as she usually did after they made love. Her mind still raced with all that happened that day. Freedom. She had been so grateful to breathe that word, to feel it. It was surreal and amazing and so many indescribable feelings all at once. And then she’d lain in Monku’s arms for the first time without having to worry about who might lurk around the corner, just outside the doorway. Now, she wondered what that freedom really meant, whether this was truly it. She finally possessed both the protection of Earth and the love of a man she adored. Two treasures long desired—love and security—fulfilled twofold, in both Earth and Monku. But something stirred in the back of her mind until it slowly crept forward. Everything seemed so perfect. She finally owned exactly what she’d always longed for, but now she began to think about what she’d given up in the clouds. She didn’t really miss the sky enough to want to return for that reason. Rather, an uneasy feeling dawned upon her, a feeling of having shirked her duties, of having broken some unsaid oath she’d once made in becoming an Elemental, though that time extended too far back for her to recall. On the other hand, why could she not control the rain just as well from the ground? Could she not learn? As much as she wanted to consider this option, she also doubted it; surely, as a God of perfect order and wisdom, Amiel had a reason for placing Cloud in the sky. There was only one way to calm her racing mind. Amiel had led her first to Monku and now to Mother Earth; the latter would surely be able to comfort her doubts and tell her what to do next. Though the hour stretched late, Cloud hoped Mother Earth was still awake. She slipped from Monku’s arms and from the room. Silently stealing down the staircase, she marveled that it had morphed into a winding stair since the cottage’s transformation into a tree.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, a lamp’s orange flame danced from around the corner. Cloud peered into the next room to observe Earth sitting in a rocking chair and reading a book. “Mother Earth?” Cloud said. Earth glanced up and smiled. “Yes, child?” “I wanted to speak to you about...Well, it’s important, but if you don’t—” “Certainly, my child. Please, come and sit.” Cloud walked over to the armchair and sat, but she did not allow herself to sink comfortably into its warmth. Instead, she leaned forward on its edge, wondering how to continue. As they sat in silence, Earth smiled calmly. Drawing up her courage, Cloud met the motherly Elemental’s gaze and took a deep breath. “Mother Earth, there is something you should know about me.” Earth sat quietly, eyes gleaming with a tranquil expectancy that prompted Cloud to continue. “Mother Earth...I am one of the Elemental Guardians. I am Cloud.” A nearly unbearable pause ed as Earth continued to study her, her face composed and unreadable. At last, she said, “I know, my child. I planned to speak with you in the morning, but I am glad you came to me yourself.” Cloud stared. “Did you think I would not know you? I know all my children.” “But we’ve never even met,” Cloud said. “You’ve never even seen me—” “I saw you as a child,” Earth said. “You were such a sweet baby, although very moody.” Earth shared a playful smile, eyes twinkling with remembrance. “As soon as you took to the clouds, we had such fits of thunderstorms. And then, just as quickly, you would be all smiles and cirrus—”

“Stop!” Cloud interrupted, heart racing as a strange realization overtook her. “Are you saying...are you truly my actual mother?” A sad light softened Earth’s smile. “I am, my child.” Cloud’s hand flew to her mouth, and she could only stare as tears filled her eyes. Mingled joy, sorrow, and confusion filled her. All this time, she’d longed for Earth to be her mother, but she’d never suspected it could actually be so. Earth continued quietly, “Bienvinette has always been an Elemental land, protected and governed by Elementals as Amiel has ordained. But even Elementals do not live forever. The Cloud before you, your father, eventually died. Only the child of an Elemental, or else the willing spouse of an Elemental, can be appointed as a new Elemental. If I could have done it myself, I would have, but as I was already an Elemental, I could not become another kind. Earth is Earth, Fire is Fire, Cloud is Cloud. That’s how it is and always has been and shall always be. And so...I volunteered you. I gave you up. None of the other Elementals were married at the time; none of the others had children.” Cloud slowly shook her head, trying to absorb Earth’s incredible words. “My father was your husband? How..?” “He too made the same mistake you did, my child. He too came to earth seeking companionship, for he too saw me walking in the forests and grew very fond of me.” “Wait—mistake? You think it’s a mistake that I wanted companionship? Wanted you to be my mother, have you hold me, feel loved by you—by anyone? Can you imagine how lonely it is up there?” Cloud cut herself off; she didn’t want to sound accusing, but Earth’s words cut her deeply as she struggled to comprehend the truth of everything she’d just learned. Earth smiled sadly at her. “Life as Cloud is lonely, I know. And to want love—of course, there is no shame in that. But the duty of a Cloud is one of the most important of all the Elementals. Without it, Bienvinette fails. Have you not noticed that it hasn’t rained the entire time you’ve been down here?” Cloud frowned. Of course it had rained. Had she not cried many times? Surely, it had...

Yet, as she thought back over the past few days, she could not recall the patter of rain, the feel of its coolness tickling her skin… She sprang from the chair as a sick, ominous feeling gripped her. Throwing the door open, she rushed outside, threw her gaze upward, and gasped. She reeled dizzily, and her stomach churned. Not a single cloud scrolled across the stars, not even the smallest trace of a cumulus. A warm hand touched her shoulder as Earth whispered, “The rain cannot come without the clouds.” “Then I must go back,” Cloud said. The thought broke her heart, but she knew it must be so. Without the rain, the trees would die, and so would the people, Earth herself, and Monku. “If only such noble willingness was all that was needed.” Cloud whirled toward Earth, whose gaze shone with such sorrow that it broke Cloud’s heart. “Your father...when he found out what he’d done...he killed himself. He knew his death was the only way another Cloud could be chosen.” “What do you mean?” Cloud asked, her voice trembling. “What do you mean ‘the only way’? Certainly, if I am willing—” “You’ve set foot upon Bienvinette ground. You are not like the Stars who may be returned to the sky by Night. Your magic is forfeit. You cannot go back now.” “Then what can I do?” Cloud whispered. Earth shook her head. “I would never ask you to take the same fate your father did, my child. I don’t know if there is another way things might be fixed. But for now, we must prepare. Without the rain, everything is out of balance. Most of the Elementals will work together and do what they can to help us maintain order for as long as we can. But there is one, Fire. She owns a rebellious nature, and I fear that without the rain to keep her in check, she may not only grow in power but take advantage of that power, use her reckless nature to consume Bienvinette for her own.” “Can we stop her?” Cloud asked.

Earth nodded. “Tomorrow, you and I—and yes, Monku too—will go to River. She is the only other water Elemental besides yourself, and we will need her services before the end, if we are to have any hope of staving Fire.” Cloud turned her gaze skyward once more as her tears fell. She watched the stretches of boundless starry sky with a fierce intensity, as if she could somehow will the clouds back to her. As she cried, for once she wished her tears would make the rain come. “It is never wrong to love, my child,” Earth said. “You could not have known the consequences. What matters is that you realize now and want to help make things right. I’m sure that Amiel will look with mercy upon such a willing heart. I’m sure that there’s a way, and that He’ll help us to find it...” Cloud turned to Earth to thank her, but only tears came in place of the words she so desperately wanted to utter. She laid her head on Earth’s shoulder, allowing her mother to hold her, permitting her soothing warmth and fresh life to envelop her. Earth held her, stroking her hair and promising her that everything would be all right. Perhaps it wasn’t how Cloud had imagined it happening, but at least she finally rested in her mother’s arms. ~*~*~*~ Cloud rose early with the dawn and walked over to the small oval gap in the trees that served as a window. She watched as Sun rose, casting her colorful rays and spreading her warm, welcoming arms wide across the land. It seemed an ironic, mocking gesture to Cloud as she considered what Bienvinette could become, would become, if something was not done to return the clouds and rain. Desolate, despairing, hardly a place of welcome or refuge... A soft, velvety hand rested on her shoulder. Cloud placed her hand atop his. “Monku...” “You are worried about the words Mother Earth shared with you last night,” he said in his quiet, knowing way. She nodded. “All of this—anything that happens to Bienvinette—is my fault.” “But nothing has happened yet.” He slipped his arms around her.

“But it will,” she breathed. “You don’t know that...” A gentle rap sounded on the door, and Earth called, “Are you awake, my children?” “Yes, Mother Earth,” Monku answered. “Breakfast is ready, and then we shall depart and speak with River.” “We’ll be right out.” “Take your time; the day is still early...” Her voice trailed as she walked back downstairs. Monku turned Cloud to face him. She did not look up at him, but he gently tipped her chin back, making her gaze into his eyes. “Everything will be all right. Amiel will help us work it all out. Don’t think He doesn’t know your sorrow and true desire to put things right. Everything will be okay in the end; you’ll see.” He kissed her forehead, and she offered a feeble smile, the best she could offer. “Come,” he said, smiling gently. “Let’s go downstairs. I’m starving.” They dressed in the traveling tunics, leggings, and boots that Earth had provided them, woven from the most comfortable yet strong and protective green cloth. Then they headed downstairs, following their noses to the kitchen where the scent of eggs and sausage and all manner of herbs wafted to greet them. It was a large, homey room, from the wooden walls and furniture to the clusters of herbs hanging from the ceiling, each a different shade of green, blue, or purple, each emitting a different scent which blended to create an almost overwhelming aroma. Earth bid them to sit, and soon they enjoyed a scrumptious breakfast and pleasant conversation. Cloud tried very hard to concentrate on being optimistic, but the worries of the day continued to stir in the back of her mind. How she desired to truly share just a typical day with her mother and husband, without the

weight of their world’s imminent danger pressing on her shoulders. After breakfast, they packed some water, herbs, fruits, and bread, and set off into the woods. By noon, they approached the wide, glistening expanse of a roaring river. “River!” Earth called. “River! It is I, Earth, and Cloud, and Monku of the Monku people! We’ve come to speak with you as I promised. Please, come to our aid.” A few moments ed and then, several yards in the distance, the river’s small rapids rose up, merging into a great wave that rushed toward them at lightning speed. Cloud took in her breath, anxious and humbled as River rose from the water, riding the majestic wave hurtling toward them. River’s skin and hair were made from the water itself, swirls of glistening blues, aquas, and whites that merged with the river. The water composing her body flowed constantly back into the river, even as the river circulated constantly into her. Head lifted proudly, she watched them with her sharp gaze as she surfed atop the high undulations rushing toward them. As she drew near, the wave gracefully receded until she stood in the shallows, smiling at them. “Welcome, friends. It is an honor to meet you all.” “You as well, my lady,” Monku said; he bowed respectfully, and Cloud did the same. River shook her head. “Please, I so hate formalities. Only call me ‘River’, and I shall be content.” She flashed a bright smile, white like a sea’s frothing foam, and her eyes danced. Cloud smiled in return, calmed a bit by the water Elemental’s friendliness. Just as quickly, River’s eyes darkened into tempestuous oceans as she turned to Earth. “I have received news. Perhaps we should speak in private.” “Whatever you have to say, we can hear,” Cloud said; Monku wrapped an arm about her and drew her close, silently promising that they were one in this matter. “I know whatever is happening with the other Elementals is my own fault, and I want to help.”

“I as well,” Monku said, “if there is any way I can.” River nodded; the slight movement sprayed them with the mist of her hair. “Very well,” she said. “Fire has begun her conquest of Bienvinette. It did not take her long to figure out there were no clouds left to give the rain needed to hold her power and thirst for supremacy at bay. She has started in the west and makes now to consume the northern boundaries of Bienvinette with her flame.” She closed her eyes tight and furrowed her brow as if in pain. Just a moment later, she opened them again in shock. Then, her eyes opened wide and she said, “I have received a message from the northern lakes. Fire now torments one of the Stars, chasing him toward the north...” Her gaze rested on Earth. “She chases him toward the ocean,” Earth gasped. “Surely even she would not be so cruel…” “Cruelty is nothing to Fire but fun and sport,” River said darkly. “Can we reach them in time?” Earth asked, a hint of desperation in her voice. Cloud’s heart quickened. She wasn’t sure exactly what the Elementals spoke of, but seeing the steadfast Earth so worried was not a good omen. “Perhaps if you all ride with me.” River glanced at each of them in turn. “You will never be fast enough on foot.” Cloud and Monku glanced at River uncertainly, and then at Earth as if hoping for some instruction. But Earth already summoned several trees; they walked forward on arched roots, breaking and offering their branches, vines, and leaves. Earth made these to hover in the air and muttered an incantation until they had built themselves into a sturdy raft. River lifted the raft onto her shoulders, and Earth scrambled on. Monku and Cloud followed suit. “Hang on!” River shouted, her voice rising with the wave rushing up from beneath the small vessel.

Cloud released a startled squeak as they rose up and began coursing down the river at an incredible speed. She clutched the side of the raft but soon found that River’s warning to hang on was needless. The raft protected its riders from falling by some magic of its own. As they sped down the river, Cloud squeezed Monku’s hand tight, praying beneath her breath that they wouldn’t be too late to stop Fire and save the Star. ~*~*~*~ Fire cackled as she forced James-Star to the brink of the cliffs. He ducked and darted from side to side, desperately trying to avoid the fireballs she volleyed at him. He’d tried shooting his own fireballs at her, but she had only absorbed them, magnifying her power. As she danced closer, her fire grazed his skin and he winced, stumbling as he continued his vain race to escape her wrath. James-Star staggered to a halt before the edge of the cliff. Fire paused only feet from him. Her wall of flames stretched far beyond his line of sight, back deep into the woods. The flames of her hair and gown danced, and her eyes smoldered with her wickedly triumphant grin. “You stand at the edge, Star,” she sneered; the embers crowning her head flared with each word. “Time to give up. There’s room here for only one Fire-being to rule.” “How many times must I tell you: I do not seek your position of Fire!” He shook with rage, incapable of concealing his distress from his voice. Fire laughed. “Still, it can’t hurt for me to take precautions!” In a last, desperate attempt, James-Star cast a ball of blazing blue flame. Fire merely caught it in one hand, crushing it as though she held a mere snowball. James-Star’s eyes widened in horror as the wall of fire surrounding her morphed into an all-consuming blue. “Besides,” Fire added coolly, “I’m just having so much fun watching you fall...” She danced toward him, her wall of flames trailing right behind her. He braced himself against the unbearable heat emanating from the wall surging straight toward him. Within moments, she stood so close that their noses almost touched. Her heat stifled his breath, and his mind reeled dizzily. He stood on the edge of

the cliff over-looking the ocean, caught between two deaths. The water below would extinguish his flames forever, while Fire’s flame was too hot now for him to counter and would consume him. Fire grinned and exhaled an excruciatingly hot breath. James-Star staggered back, tripped off the edge, and plummeted toward the ocean. Fire fell at the cliff’s edge, peering over and watching as his bright orange flame surged down and down. As he hit the water, all turned black, his flame smothered. Fire cackled with glee. “Fire, stop this madness at once!” She rolled her eyes at Earth’s booming voice; the self-proclaimed Mother was always sticking her nose in other Elementals’ business where it didn’t belong. Fire stood and turned to face Earth. River rushed forth, an army of tall waves flanking her. Fire hardly had time to do more than stare in horror before River crashed down mightily. With a final, blood-curdling scream and hiss, Fire and her wall of flames vanished, leaving only a wall of steam and smoke in their stead. River halted. The waves receded from her shoulders back into the lake some yards behind her in the woods. Earth raced up to stand beside River, Cloud and Monku following. “Where is he?” Earth cried. “The Star, where—?” She stopped short, as did Cloud and Monku as they reached River and stood beside her on the cliff’s edge, following her gaze to the ocean below. Cloud gasped, feeling dizzy as she realized the appalling truth. Earth shook her head, eyes wide with dismay. “Shouldn’t we do something?” Monku cried. “Shouldn’t we try to find him, help him? May he not yet be alive?”

“There is only one that can help him now,” Earth declared gravely. Suddenly, the sky began to change. Sun fell swiftly as Night’s shadows consumed her, bathing the sky in bright, blood-red hues which spoke louder than any scream or cry of terror could have. Night flew in upon her black swan. Moon also wakened, her eyes wide with shock at the early hour and uncommon blackness with which Night spread her blanket of sleep. Or rather, her blanket of awakeness. For this was not the Night of protective dark that lulled heavy eyes to bed, but a darkness of fear and dread that would keep eyes wide open. Moon saw all this. She shone upon Night with a warning, milky glow, all the while knowing that, by the intensity of the darkness capturing the land, such an onition was in vain. Never before had Night flown so furiously. As Moon awakened, the Stars also opened their eyes, stitching their silver shroud for Sun as they did every night. They too paused to stare in horror along with Moon. Their services were not needed. Night overcame Day and Sun both without their aid. The Stars faded, shrinking from Night’s darkness. Night’s black gown now completely blanketed the sky as her sorrow, rage, and unbearable pain drove her on. “Where has my lover gone?” she wailed. “I had worn my bridal gown. The loveliest ebony. I had given to him a golden ring, and he’d given me a kiss of fire, sealing our undying love for each other. And then he disappeared. But I know he would not abandon me. What has happened to him? Where has my lover gone?” The Stars began to weep for their brother in their beautiful yet terrible chimelike voices. Their light dimmed, all but going out. Moon shone full and golden, but her healing rays shed no comfort. Sun gave a final lament, along with Day, as the last of their light extinguished, for they both knew: Night had come and would not leave until she found her beloved, or else brought all Bienvinette to a dark end in her attempt. Earth and River solemnly watched Night from the cliffs overlooking the ocean. Cloud scanned the sky with anxious sorrow and deep shame. She could hardly

fathom that all of this had happened because of her. “Is there any hope of her finding him, of James-Star being all right?” she asked. Her tears fell as the Stars grew yet dimmer and dimmer, so feeble that even her strong, Elemental gaze could hardly detect them. Monku placed a hand gently on her shoulder, but she felt numb to his touch. “Once a Star touches the earth, only Night can return him or her to the sky.” Earth’s hushed voice sounded loud in the immense stillness; even Wind had ceased her dancing. “Night loves all her Stars, but him most of all, so she will keep searching. But in the water, James-Star will not last long. Stars are not meant to ever meet with water. He will begin to transform—his eyes turn to glass, feet to rock, teeth like shells, seaweed weeds for hair. If she does not find him in time, he will become one of the water kelpies.” “Water kelpies?” Cloud breathed. “What are they?” “They were once guardians of the sea—as Amiel created them to be. He intended them to be creatures of protection and joy. But they rebelled against this purpose, and in doing so, became something else. Their mischief turned to a dark lust for power, until their choices drove them to madness, to become monstrous. If James-Star becomes one of them, he will be destined to lure innocent humans beneath the waters where they...” Her voice trailed, and she shivered. Cloud asked in a small voice, “What must I do?” She met Earth’s gaze, then River’s. Monku’s grip on her shoulder tightened. “Is there nothing I can do to fix all of this? Tell me, and I will do it.” A calm knowing flooded Earth’s eyes, and then River’s. Gazing pensively at her daughter, Earth said, “There is only One who can now help you. Amiel, Lord and Maker of our world—of all worlds. You must pray to Him and ask Him to show you the way. I can do nothing more for you now, my child.” Cloud watched her mother and whispered, “All right. I will pray to Amiel.” It pained her to part from Monku’s grip, but she drew away without glancing back at him and made for the woods. “Cloud,” he called.

“Monku.” She paused but did not turn, unable to bear the thought of looking on the beloved face she may never glimpse again. Could she step forward if the sight of his face tempted her back? “I know you’ve been with me through everything, but this is my doing, Monku. I must be alone now; I must do this on my own.” Several aching moments of silence ed before Cloud started walking. She paused as he again called, “Cloud?” “Yes?” “I too will pray to Amiel for you.” “We all will, my child,” Earth said. Cloud smiled between her tears, though she still did not dare to look upon their faces. “Thank you.” She slipped into the woods, alone. ~*~*~*~ Cloud knelt in the midst of a small grove, surrounded only by trees and, she hoped, Amiel’s presence. She prayed silently beneath her breath, eyes shut fast, the words pouring from her heart. What seemed like hours ed before she finally glanced up. All lay so completely still. The world slept as though nothing was wrong. But the signs of scorched trees and Night’s cloak encomed her, a constant reminder that things were farther from all right than they had ever been. Her eyes grew heavy, and she yawned deeply. Perhaps she could not expect an immediate answer. All would happen in Amiel’s time. At least, she hoped it would. Perhaps she should rest a bit before resuming prayer... Feeling the patch of grass she sat on, she gasped. It was velvety smooth, unscathed by the flames’ cruel clutches. Laying down and closing her eyes, she

began to drift to sleep when a cool breeze stirred across her face, startling her. The breeze might not have felt so foreign, save that Wind had not stirred all this time, out of reverence for Night’s bereavement. At first, Cloud wondered if Wind moved again after all, perhaps in mourning for Night and the Stars. But then a voice was carried on the breeze; a soft, airy voice calling her name. “Cloud...Cloud...” A bright light shone from behind her. She sat up and turned with a gasp. Before her rose a great staircase, glowing with pure, white light. It rose up and up, disappearing into the starry heavens. On either side of the stair stood two beings seemingly made of white light. Their eyes flared like red flames, but beyond that, any details were indecipherable from the bright glow flowing from and around them. “You have requested the presence of our King, the Great Amiel,” one said in a voice astoundingly wonderful, though its power also made Cloud shiver. She felt very small looking up at the staircase. A gentle zephyr blew from above, carrying a power that commanded great reverence. Cloud wanted to rush toward its beckoning warmth yet flee it all at once. “Amiel wishes to grant you an audience,” the other sentinel said. “Please, come forth.” Slowly, Cloud rose to her feet, heart pounding. This was what she’d been waiting for, praying for all night. Yet to actually enter the presence of Amiel in this lifetime when none was known to physically do so in hundreds of years was an unfathomable honor. Was she, of all people, worthy? She didn’t feel so. Walking forward, she paused at the base of the stairs between the two sentinels. She glanced at each of them, and they nodded at her, answering her unspoken question. She must scale the stairs alone. She had started her journey alone from the moment she descended from the clouds, and now she must continue on that way. As she placed one foot on the bottom stair, a pure warmth encomed her, embracing her trembling body and igniting her heart with an awesome fear at its

power while urging her forward at the same time. She placed a foot on the next step, inhaled a huge breath, and began her celestial ascent. Up and onward, higher and higher, she climbed. Pausing to look behind her, she gasped. Only the purest light flooded the path behind her, enveloping her on all sides; she could no longer see the ground she’d left behind. Turning her gaze upward again, Cloud continued her ascent into the folds of seemingly endless light. Just when she thought the stairs would have no end, she stepped up onto a flat, circular surface that shone like smooth pearl. Sitting tall and proud across from her was a huge beast whose fur glistened pure white. The front half of his body was like a lion’s, including his face crowned with a majestic mane, while his other half was like that of an eagle, except for his lion’s tail. Horns like an ox’s peeked from his mane, shimmering iridescent. White wings folded against his back, and each feather rippled with tiny prisms. His eyes shimmered like sapphires and fire; fearful and calm, wise and wonderful all at once. So many other brilliant things filled His eyes, but she couldn’t find the words to describe them. “Come here, child,” He said in a gentle voice that seemed to dance with light itself. Heart and body trembling, she stepped forward, hardly able to tear her eyes from the goodness flowing so radiantly from Him. His goodness drew her forth, despite her shyness under His power. Stopping before Him, she breathed, “Are you really the great Amiel?” He nodded His great lion’s head, and his beams of light flowed like liquid sun over her body, kissing her skin with an intensely warm righteousness. How small she felt beside His massive frame and especially His magnificence, though the humble tranquility of His eyes calmed her trembling spirit a bit. “I am Amiel, my child,” He said, smiling. “But not as you would think of me. I have many forms. Were you to see me as I truly am, you would not be able to look upon me. Not yet, though someday. For now, when I do appear to humans, Elementals, and other of my children, I take on other forms. I show myself to you in this way now because of your fervent prayers, that I might speak with you and give you the answers you seek, my child. Now please, tell me again why you

come to implore my aid.” She knew He knew all, but she also knew that she must speak the words with her own mouth. His wondrous eyes gleamed with such undeserved gentleness and patience that she could not look at Him as she answered. “I came to the Below. But Cloud does not belong in the Below, and now Fire has taken over, and James-Star is in grave danger, and all of this is my fault.” “And why did you go to the Below, my child?” His tender voice contained a hint of sadness, like a father gently correcting his child. “I was very lonely. I wanted to find someone I could love and who could love me, and so I went to the Below to find that. But it was selfish of me and wrong to act without considering the consequences for everyone else. And now I know the only way to make things right is to tell You all this and ask Your forgiveness and for You to help me make things right...” She glanced up and forced herself look at Him, despite her shame at bringing hurt to His serene blue eyes. “My child,” He said, and her tears fell at His undeserved tenderness, “if you had only ed that it is I Who love you most, you could have turned to me and sought my help before now, and I would have heard your prayer. But...” She watched Him hopefully as the sorrow in His voice softened. All sadness vanished from His eyes, and He smiled the purest of all smiles, erasing the deep pain of her guilt and rendering her incapable of feeling anything but comfort. “...what’s past is past, my child. You are forgiven. What is important now is that we fix the consequences of your wrongs.” “Yes,” she said eagerly. “That’s the most important reason I wanted to talk to You. I need You to guide me, to tell me how I can make things right. I’ll do anything.” “You know the order of this world. You know how it is that a new Elemental must be chosen.” She nodded. “The old Elemental must away so that the child or spouse of an Elemental can take his or her place.”

“Then what are you prepared to do, my child?” “I would give my life to save the others,” she whispered, trying to strengthen her faltering heart as she realized the weight of the doom she chose. “I would give my life so that another could take my place in the clouds.” “Such a sacrifice was made already in the past,” He said. “Such a sacrifice did not heal all last time, nor do I think it would this time. Do you, my child?” No. She already knew the answer. For if she sacrificed herself, then Monku and Earth would ever mourn her. Soothingly, He asked, “My child, why did you come from your place in the clouds to the Below to begin with?” “Because I was lonely,” she managed in a small voice, wondering why He asked her yet again what He already knew. “Because I wanted someone to be with and love.” “And do you think that if a new Elemental was sent to the Above to be the next Cloud that they would be happy there? Or would they too feel your loneliness?” “I can only imagine they would become lonely in time,” she whispered, again glancing away; it was as though He challenged her to question His will and purpose for the Elementals He had created, but she didn’t know how best to answer except to speak her own truth. He sat in silence. The entirely wise and majestic aura surrounding Him felt nearly unbearable, His light suddenly blinding, and she wished He would say something else, soothe her again with His sunlit words. He spoke at last, but not at all the words she expected: “My child, you carry within you an Elemental child.” She gasped, staring at him. Her hand slowly crept to her stomach. “Would you be willing to give this child to me to become the next Cloud? Without having to sacrifice your own life, would you simply give her into my service?”

She almost immediately cried, “Yes!” but stopped short. Would she condemn her own child—Monku’s and hers—to the same, lonely fate she had borne? Perhaps this was the only way, the only answer. She had thrown them into this mess, and she must undo it. It seemed her child must suffer, or else an entire world must suffer. Unless... “My Lord,” she said, “I would gladly give you my child, only I would not send the child to the same lonely fate as my own. Please, could you not take me back to the clouds instead and let the child stay in the Below with Monku?” “You know that this is not how things are to be done. Only a child or spouse of an Elemental can take the place of an Elemental who has fallen. But…” She took in her breath, suddenly hopeful again. “…I would not have your child be alone, as you were, for so long. Have I not said in the White Scrolls that it is not good for man to be alone? And so, I will give you many years in the Below with your husband, while your child will take her place in the sky. However, she shall not be alone, nor any longer be called Cloud, but be called Vapor, for she shall live in the sky yet be free to touch the earth whenever she so chooses, and thus never need be alone.” Cloud inhaled a shallow breath as an overwhelming, unimaginable joy rushed over her. She stared at Him, and He smiled, His eyes dancing like those of a Father who has just fulfilled His child’s wildest, deepest yearning. “Thank you,” was all she could breathe, bowing her head in reverent gratitude. Tears of elation streamed down her cheeks, the only gift she could grant Him. “You are most welcome, my child. Now go and share this joyful news with the others so that they too may partake in your joy.” He opened His mouth, his huge fangs glittering like diamonds, and breathed on her. A sweet, pure scent filled her. In a moment so brief she hardly comprehended its happening, she saw his face recede, along with the stairs— Suddenly, she lay on her back, on the soft grass, gazing at the dim stars above, breathing hard. Then she sprang up and raced through the woods, shouting for Monku, River,

and Earth. ~*~*~*~ Vapor swept down to the earth. Early morning doused the woods with a sleepy, yellow-white light, making her skin sparkle gently in the light of the rising Sun. She crept down to the cottage and peered inside, watching her mother and father sleep, enjoying the sound of their steady breathing. Then, fast and subtle as Wind herself, she flew the few, short miles to her grandmother’s cottage. Earth was already awake and intently tending her garden. She glanced up, her green eyes dancing as Vapor whisked wistfully into her presence. “Good morning, my child.” “Good morning, grandmother,” Vapor said, beaming. “How are Sun and the children doing?” “Oh, wonderful.” Vapor’s eyes danced playfully. “But we’ve started letting them name themselves, as there’s getting to be too many of them, plus their husbands and wives and their children. I dare say that the Elementals shall never lack for children ever again.” Earth laughed lightly. “I dare say indeed...” “Well, I’d better go say ‘good morning’ to Sun, now he’s almost up,” Vapor said, scanning the sky as Sun slowly rose. “But I’ll be back later to see you and mother and father for our picnic.” Earth nodded. “All right, my child.” Vapor gracefully wisped her way back into the sky. Earth could not help but smile as she watched Vapor disappear into the bright rays of Sun’s loving arms—the new Sun. For the old had since ed away, leaving Day desolate for a while, until he’d fallen in love with one of the Rainbows and married anew. Vapor had loved and married the new Sun, just as

Night and the rescued James-Star had officiated their love at last in a star-clad wedding fit for a king and queen. A light rain began to fall, and Earth sighed happily, knowing full well what that rain meant. The rain descended every time they kissed—Vapor and Sun—and soon her rain droplets would combine with his sun beams, and another new generation of Rainbow Elementals would be born. Sure enough, as she continued to study the sky, Earth saw them—the bands of hundreds of tiny Rainbows arching across the sky. She smiled at the sight of the Rainbows and the wonderful promise they bore with them, the promise that never again would Bienvinette be threatened by destruction from a lack of Elemental children. But especially, Earth marveled in the promise that none of the Elementals need ever again know the ache of loneliness, thanks to the greatest promise of all, the promise forged from Amiel’s love and Cloud’s courage.

PART 4: MEMORY CHARMER

Entry10, Cheryl’s Diary: The Rose and What Followed

As I slipped quickly through the trees, my heart seemed to race even faster than my feet. At first, I hadn’t realized the entirety of the black stillness clinging to the sky, like death staining the air. But now, as I noticed, my anger toward Ferdinand melted to give way to a fear greater than I’d known since the Enchantress’ curse had plagued Bienvinette. With my flashlight guiding my steps, I managed to find my way to Logan’s cottage, where I stood panting and banging on his door. After a few moments, it swung open wide. Logan stood in the doorway, squinting in the flashlight’s glow, before his eyes widened with surprise. “Cheryl? What—what’s wrong?” “I saw the dark covering everything and was scared. I didn’t know what was happening...” Well, that wasn’t the entire truth. But he didn’t need to know about my fight with Ferdinand. He smiled gently. “Don’t worry. It looks like the Elementals are just having some kind of spat. It happens now and again; it’ll soon enough. Would you like to come in?” I smiled in reply, and he stood aside. I felt instantly comforted by the soft, orange light of the fireplace dancing along the walls and on his serene face as he turned to me.

“Please, sit.” He gestured toward the couch. We sat on opposite ends of the sofa as usual. Several moments of awkward silence slipped past. Though the firelight softened the room with a romantic glow, the long shadows caused by the darkness outside intensified my jitters. “So,” he said at last, “would you like me to read my new book to you?” “Another one?” I asked. “I didn’t see you come into the store.” “I found it elsewhere. Besides, it’s not a magic book.” He lifted his hand, and a book materialized. With a grin, he announced, “Poetry.” My heart raced. The way that singular word flowed so gracefully from his lips confounded me. As I continued to stare at him, I scolded myself for acting like a blundering idiot yet again, but I couldn’t contain my wonder. He’d ed that I liked poetry. Wow, a guy who actually listened and managed to pick out important details from my ramblings. He began to read a poem by Elizabeth Muscovy, a famous author from the Seven Kingdoms of ancient legend, and also one of my favorite poets. Though the light of the fireplace didn’t glow very brightly, Logan could see clearly enough to read. The fire’s tempered glow sent seductive shadows bouncing about the room, while the words flowed smooth as velvet from his lips, “A rose, a rose, so white and fair, A rose weaved within her raven hair. A rose, a rose, so white and fair, That stood for the purity of the love that they shared.” Lowering the book, his gaze locked firmly on mine, sending my heart and mind whirling. He raised his hand and rubbed his fingers together. A pure white rose appeared in his hand, glimmering with an otherworldly sparkle.

Inching his way closer to me, he said, “A rose for a rose...” I accepted it with trembling hand, holding it awkwardly, unable to thank him. He slid even closer, so gracefully that he hardly seemed to move. He suddenly just sat there, right next to me. His normally placid gaze reflected something deeper, something extra alluring. It locked my gaze to his, held me captive. I hardly knew what was coming over me; I usually had more reserve than this— was he bewitching me—? He kissed me. It was my first kiss, and it was glorious. My hands coiled in his soft hair as he gently caressed my mine. The rose slipped from my hand to the floor as he laid me back, still kissing me. My whole body shuddered and my mind spun, flooded with his kiss alone. An eternity stretched while we remained lost in that kiss, and yet it felt too short when at last we broke away. We lay together then, my head on his chest, his strong arms holding me. I smiled sleepily, listening to his heartbeat and enjoying the rise and fall of his chest. “Cheryl,” he whispered, stroking and kissing the top of my head. “I know we haven’t known each other long, but…Cheryl, I want you to know that I care about you very much. I can’t tell you how glad I am to have bumped into you that day in the store.” “I’m glad too,” I said softly, almost asleep as the contentment of our bodies so closely entwined filled me. Part of me fought to stay awake, not wanting to miss a single moment of him holding me, but finally, I drifted to sleep in his arms.

Entry 11, Ferdinand’s Diary

Cheryl was gone all night. Hardly capable of enduring the worry, I tossed and turned in bed. Then I got up, paced, laid down again, tossed some more, got up, paced... Finally, sleep found me, but it was not a restful sleep by any means. When morning dawned with still no sign of Cheryl, I called Aaryn and Lisal into one of the sitting rooms to talk. “Ferdinand, you look awful…” Lisal sat in one of the armchairs, drawing her robe close about her. “Yeah.” Aaryn sat on the footstool. “Looks like you haven’t slept in about a week.” “I definitely didn’t sleep last night,” I muttered. “Not well, at least.” “What’s wrong?” A concerned frown tugged at Lisal’s lips, and her brows furrowed. “It’s Cheryl, isn’t it?” Aaryn guessed. “Yes. I’ve worried about her all night.” “She’ll be fine, Ferdinand,” Aaryn said, too ively. “It’s not like she’s been gone all that long anyway.” “She’s been gone since last night.” “Yeah, thanks to you...” “Excuse me?” I snapped fidgeted, holding back a strong urge to lunge at him. Aaryn just rolled his eyes. “Cheryl was a Stregoni Benefici. Honestly, she can

take care of herself.” “So you’re telling me we just sit around, don’t look for her—do nothing?” “And you’re saying we storm out in the complete darkness, in the middle of the woods, blindly searching for her? We’re not vampires anymore. Getting lost or killed is way easier and doesn’t help Cheryl.” Anger stirred inside me. “If this was Emma, you’d have had us up all night already, searching for her...” “Ferdinand,” Lisal said firmly. “I’ve known Cheryl as long as you. If she wants to find this new friend of hers, then she will. You can’t stop her. If the darkness hasn’t cleared by this afternoon, I’ll Mother Earth and ask her what’s going on. Then, we can search for Cheryl.” Lisal rose and left the room. I glared at Aaryn who absently gazed out the window at the incessant dark. I opened my mouth to try again to make him see reason when Lisal popped back in, announcing, “I’ve just received word from one of the guards that Cheryl has returned and is on her way upstairs. I’m going to meet her. You two stay here.” She gave us both a sharp, warning glare before ducking out of the room. Several painful moments of silence ed before Lisal returned and said, “She’s coming up to see you two. She’s happy as a lark and insists on letting everyone know, so don’t either of you go spoiling it.” With a final warning glance, she disappeared down the hall. “When she comes in, try not to scold her,” Aaryn said. “If she’s been with him, having a good time, it’ll just make her upset.” I sighed. “I know, it’s just...I can’t help wanting to look out for her. I don’t mean to be such a...a...” “Thorn in her side? Party-pooper? Overprotective friend who overreacts about nonsense all of the time?” I glared at Aaryn to thank him for his stark honesty. “You really like her, don’t you?” Aaryn mused with a smirk. “You’re so jealous.”

“What? I—I am not jealous,” I protested. “I’m just concerned. You know, like a brother would be—” “‘Brother?’ Yeah, sure. You must that I’ve had over a thousand years’ experience being a teenage boy. I can tell when a guy likes a girl. So why don’t you just it that you like her already?” As I continued to glare at him, clearly defeated and annoyed about it, he only smiled in his pleased way. “It’s just that...sometimes it seems so...so weird...” I stood and began to pace. Aaryn leaned back, as if preparing himself for my spiel. “I mean, your family took us both in, right? So we’re supposed to be like brother and sister...and yet, we’re not related. And your family never really adopted us or made us change our names, so I’m still Ferdinand Gris and she’s still Cheryl Rosa. So there’s nothing wrong with me liking her, right?” I turned hopefully toward Aaryn, seeking some reassurance. “Well, why are you telling me?” he asked. “I’m certainly not the one you want to ask out. At least…” A sly half-grin lit his face. “…I hope I’m not...” Laughing at last, I shook my head and faced the door. This was it. I would declare my feelings to Cheryl— Before I could take a step toward the door, it banged open and Cheryl shot in, face flushed, eyes and smile beaming. She breathed hard, like she had run all the way up the stairs, and exclaimed breathlessly, “You won’t believe what’s happened!” “What?” Aaryn asked as we both gazed at her curiously. She uttered the next words as though she floated in a dream: “Logan and I just spent the most wonderful time together. He told me he really cares about me, and I...I think I might be falling in love with him.” For me, the words were a nightmare. Sinking down on the couch, I stared at her, hoping the disappointment didn’t show too vividly on my face. From the corner

of my eye, I saw Aaryn glance at me in concern. Then, as I continued to sit speechless, he came to my aid. “Well, that’s wonderful, Cheryl. I mean, we’re really happy for you.” “Thanks,” she said, giggling before bouncing off, half running, half dancing down the hallway, certainly with the purpose of telling everyone in the castle that she could find. “Ferdinand?” Aaryn said as I stared blankly at the wall. “Ferdinand, I’m so sorry. But you know, maybe it’s not too late. I mean, if you really think this guy isn’t good for her, you should still try to talk to her...” “It’s okay, Aaryn. You don’t have to try to comfort me. It is too late. Besides, you know what she’s said before. I’m too serious for her...” “Ferdinand...” “I need to be alone for a little while,” I said, rising to my feet. “Please, just leave me alone. I’ll see you later.” I slipped from the room without facing him. Displaying my emotions always made me feel uncomfortable. I felt silly and embarrassed at having done so in front of Aaryn—and almost, pointlessly, to the girl I apparently loved. The dream I’d clung to for hundreds of years had been crushed right before my eyes, and now, I wished only for the world to fade away for a time. ~*~*~*~ After a few minutes of sulking in my room, someone knocked on my door. Quickly trying to erase all traces of sadness from my face, I rose and opened it. “Hey, Aaryn,” I said. “Come in...” He walked in, and I shut the door behind us. I plopped wearily on the edge of my bed while he pulled up the chair from the desk to sit across from me. “Look,” he said gently, “I know you really love Cheryl, and this is hard for you.

I think I’m still supposed to tell you to be happy for her or some crap like that, but I won’t. Because...well, I’ve been thinking...” Aaryn’s gaze was deeply pensive, and I was fully alert. “What is it, Aaryn?” “Well, at first I thought you were just being an overprotective, lovesick guy as usual. But I’ve been thinking about it all, and something doesn’t quite fit.” “What is it?” I demanded. “You think Cheryl’s in danger with this guy?” “Well, if it was just the fact that she’s totally captivated by him, no big deal, right? I mean, everyone is like that when they fall in love. But it’s that first day that still bugs me. The day we found her in the woods and she said she couldn’t what had happened to her.” “You think that had to do with him?” “It does seem a bit fishy, and even fishier that the next day she claims she met him again in the middle of the woods. I mean, how did she even find him? And none of that would even bother me so much, except that I heard some talk in town. I didn’t take it seriously at first, didn’t link the two...” “What kind of talk?” “Talk of a powerful wizard—a memory charmer—that lives in the middle of the woods. He charms girls, bewitches them with some sort of mind control that saps their energy, and then steals their memories. Some return from the forest dazed and not knowing one iota of what happened to them. A few never return at all…” I leapt to my feet, snarling, “We need to find this sick jerk, tell him he’s messing with the wrong girl, stop him from hurting anyone else—” “Calm down,” Aaryn said. “I don’t even know how much of what they said was true. But I think it’s worth looking into, for Cheryl’s safety. I have some business to attend to in town today, but we can go look for him after that, pay him a visit, have a nice, friendly chat. Okay? Just please stay here and don’t do anything stupid until I get back.” I nodded and slouched back down, trying to subdue my temper. “Thanks,

Aaryn.” “No problem.” He stood and returned the chair to its proper place. “I’ll see you later.” He cast me a final, warning look that said I’d really better stay put and not get myself into any trouble while he was gone. I promised to stay in my room. But I couldn’t stop myself from brooding over the monster who dared to put Cheryl in harm’s way.

Entry 12, Logan’s Diary

I paced back and forth in the dark seclusion of my cottage. All day, my mind had spun, unable to rest. And now, as the shadows of night lingered, so did the feelings of vulnerable aloneness. In her absence, my mind was free to face those feelings and their accompanying thoughts, free to fear them, be tormented by them... I had kissed her last night. Even as I’d kissed her, the stark warnings had bombarded my mind. But my will had forced them back, and I’d kept kissing her. Never had I kissed any of the other girls, never had I allowed it to become that personal. I’d never let myself consider becoming that attached to my wards...my slaves. Slaves. I’d never thought of them in that light before, always forcing such dark notions aside, burying them in the black depths of denial and self-justification. Now, the buried truth surfaced from the corners of my mind. The filthy, nasty truth uprooted itself as I tried to imagine placing Cheryl in the same position I had placed all those other defenseless, innocent girls. I tried to imagine it, but it was too horrible. I couldn’t deny that I desired Cheryl more than I had ever desired any other girl. Yet the temptation to take her life energy and memories was the weakest, the faintest I’d ever felt. And I knew that was because, more than desiring her, I cared for her; in time, I might even love her. And in caring for her, in knowing her, she’d shed a light into my life that illuminated the horror of all the wrongs I’d been committing. Next to her light, I was nothing but a more complete darkness than that which now covered Bienvinette, unworthy of her affections. But perhaps I could be worthy if there was some way to make things right. It was too late for the other girls, but there must be some way I could change and make everything all right for the future, for Cheryl. And yet, if I was honest with myself, I knew it was impossible for me to survive, keep her safe, and live an honorable life all at once. This harsh realization

dawned on me along with a sorrowful resolution. Only one way existed to set things straight. Someone rapped sharply at the door. Heart fluttering at the thought of beholding Cheryl’s lovely face, at her presence providing the solace so desperately, selfishly needed right now, I cast a ball of flame into the fireplace to give us a bit of light and warmth. Then I opened the door.

Entry 13, Ferdinand’s Diary

My body tensed as he swung the door open. My gaze bored into his wide, surprised eyes, wanting to burn a gaping hole right through him for what he’d done and was still doing to Cheryl. “Can I help you two gentlemen?” he asked in a voice polite as could be. It drove me over the edge; I lunged at him, and we crashed to the floor, wrestling, clawing at each other. “Ferdinand!” Aaryn shouted, but his words echoed in a dim, distant blur as I pinned the monster to the floor. He struggled, but I held him firmly. With one hand, I gripped his neck. With my other, I imprisoned one of his hands while his other lay pinned behind his back. “What’s the matter,” I hissed. “If you’re such a great sorcerer, why don’t you use the magic you’ve been using on Cheryl to save yourself?” “Go ahead,” he said. “Kill me—I really don’t care. You’d be doing both her and me a favor.” “Gladly—” “Stop it!” Aaryn shouted more forcefully. “I know this man!” His words finally penetrated my consciousness. I gave the monster one last, meaningful glare, wanting him to be sure he knew that all I need do was tighten my grip and his neck could’ve been snapped like a twig. I wanted him to understand that nothing was settled between us, that my rage against him and what he did to Cheryl still burned vehemently, that my ion in protecting her remained fervent. I released my grasp on him and stood; he staggered to his feet, and Aaryn repeated, “I know him. Your name is Logan, right?” “Yes,” he said quietly.

“Were you not once a member of the Stregoni Benefici long ago, before the Dark Enchantress banished me from Bienvinette, then called Lamialle?” “I was.” This news surprised me but did not lesson my intense dislike for him. Rather, I grew more suspicious. “If you were a member of the Stregoni Benefici,” I said, “then why have I never seen you, never even heard of you?” “He vanished long ago,” Aaryn said. “Very long ago. He was once one of our most valuable allies, but we took him for dead all these years.” Aaryn and I kept our gaze on him, anticipating some sort of explanation. “Like you, Aaryn,” Logan began, “I was desired by the Dark Enchantress. She both lusted for me and wished to use my powers to appease her will. But I refused, and for nearly a thousand years, I rotted in her prison. To this day, I wonder how I kept my sanity in that place. “Then, not long before you and the Golden Healer arrived to defeat her, she placed this curse upon me, the curse of the memory charmer. I have ever since been forced to feed upon the memories of others in order to live...or to survive rather, for it cannot really be called living.” “So you torture girls and then rob them of their memories?” I growled. “That is how it was,” he said, looking disgusted with himself. “I was frustrated, tormented. I didn’t know how else to take out my anger, and so I did horrible things to those girls with my mind control and then extracted their memories to extend my life force. But I swear, except for the first time when we met, I swear I have taken nothing from Cheryl.” “And yet you continue to see her,” I accused, shaking my head. “You continue to place her in that kind of danger, knowing how you’ve acted in the past, knowing you could snap at any moment, knowing it could be too much for you, knowing that if you don’t get those memories eventually, it will kill you! And you expect me to trust Cheryl to your care?”

“Is it so selfish of me to want love, to desire human companionship?” A mixture of rage and centuries of hurt flared in his eyes. “Is it so wrong when, after a thousand years of being deprived of even a friend, when I find that perfect friend, that I should want to spend time with her?” “If you care for her, then it is selfish of you to steal away her memories. I don’t care if it was one time or a hundred! It’s still wrong!” I actually began to feel sympathy for him, but I didn’t want to. Besides, I must defend Cheryl, must hold my ground— “I know.” Those two words startled me. I waited silently for Logan to continue. “I know it was wrong,” he repeated quietly. “Did you not just hear me it to the horror of what I did to all those other girls? I know the danger I place Cheryl in. Which is why I’ve decided to stop being a memory charmer—and to stop seeing Cheryl.” I could only stare, bewildered. Finally, I managed to ask, “But if you don’t have her memories—have someone’s memories—aren’t I right in believing...you will die?” “Yes. But what is life if I can’t truly share it with someone? My life is more like a slow, extended death, less than an existence. Cheryl helped me feel more alive than I can ever feeling, and she helped me to see that if my life must consist of wronging others, then I would choose death instead.” I shook my head, partly with incredulity, partly with opposition to the idea of this man coming to any harm. Moments before, I’d held his neck in my hands, ready to squeeze all life from him, but now, the thought of him actually dying... “Cheryl,” I said. “If you die, it will break her heart and crush her spirit, especially if she knows that you did it for her.” “I know that also,” he continued, all fight extinguished from his gaze; only deep sorrow and deeper ion remained. “I don’t wish to hurt Cheryl any more than I already have. Which is why I must ask you to permit me to see her one last time. I would get to say my good-byes, and I could remove every memory of myself from her mind so that she would not come looking for me, not even

me...And then I could die in peace.” “And it would really work?” I needed to be sure, still thinking only of protecting Cheryl and knowing how it would break her heart if she knew anything of what was about to happen. “She really wouldn’t you?” “As long as I remove every single trace of me from her mind, there will be no chance of her ing anything, of coming to look for me again. It will be quite a big shock to her mind though, removing that much memory. She will need rest for a few days afterward.” “And you will do this?” I asked, pleading for reassurance. “You promise to remove all memory of yourself from her mind?” His gaze reflected a powerful resolve, deepest sincerity, and his ion—no, it was more than that; it was love. I had seen and felt that same sadness at the thought of losing Cheryl, either by death or to another man. He loved her as I did, and because of that, I knew he spoke the truth. “Very well,” I said. Aaryn and I turned to leave, but Logan stopped us. “Ferdinand,” he said. We turned back, and I said, “Yes?” “I see that you love her, that I leave her in good hands. Take good care of her for me.” “You know I will.” “Yes. I do.” Our hearts seemed to connect for a brief but powerful moment by the threads of love binding us to the same, precious girl. Then, we parted ways.

Entry 14, Cheryl’s Diary: The Last Kiss

I glided quietly through the woods, guided by the light of the setting sun. At least that awful darkness had finally ed. How good it had felt to wake to the sun’s warm rays once again. The Elementals must have finished their dispute, just like Logan had promised. As my mind raced, my steps slowed. When I’d told Ferdinand earlier that I was going to see Logan, I’d expected another fight, some sort of resistance, even a scowl—any kind of negative reaction. He’d certainly acted less than thrilled when I’d announced that I was falling in love with Logan. But perhaps he’d finally given in, was finally prepared to trust me and accept mine and Logan’s relationship. As I reached Logan’s door, I didn’t even have the chance to knock. He opened it, and I grinned. “Well, this is a pleasant surprise.” “Yes, it is,” he said, stroking my hair. “Apparently not much of a surprise for you.” He laughed. “I was hoping you’d come, yes.” “Miss me?” I asked shyly. It was still impossible not to feel somewhat shy around him, even though we were more or less a couple now. This realization thrilled my heart, speeding its exhilarated pace just a little more. He nodded and kissed my forehead. “Of course.” Taking my hand, he led me inside where the fireplace blazed ionately, as it had the night we’d kissed. He led me past the fire into the kitchen where I stopped and gasped at the scene sprawling before me. A lace cloth draped over the table, and a silver candelabrum shone with red, yellow, and blue flames, the primary hues merging to cast a rainbow of colors across the room. Fine china set on the table along with elegant silverware,

spaghetti, garlic bread and salad. How had he known not only when to expect me, but how to feed me my favorite Earth-world meal? My surprise faded as I shook my head, ing that he was a wizard, after all. He probably had more than one way of deciphering such things. He pulled out my chair, and I sat. He loaded our plates, serving us personally instead of making the dishes do the work, and then he sat down as well. “I hope everything will be to the lady’s liking,” he said. I nodded, beaming. “I’m sure it will.” After I said grace, we both dug in. All of the food tasted scrumptious. I wasn’t quite certain if he was a superb cook or had just used a bunch of magic, but either way, I felt much more than merely satisfied and told him so. He remained unusually quiet as we ate, but once we finished, he led me back into the living room where he sat with me on the couch and read more poetry. Hugging my knees up to my chin, I listened enraptured by each word as they flowed so gracefully from his tongue, as if by speaking the words he could truly make them leap to life from every page. But something in the back of my mind said that things weren’t quite right. Logan was being sweet and attentive as ever, but he also seemed distracted. I placed a hand on his arm, and he stopped reading to glance over the book at me. “Is something wrong?” he asked gently. “I was going to ask you the same thing.” He smiled, sadly it seemed. Setting his book down, he drew me close to him. His eyes searched mine, as if I was all he could see in all the world. His hands caressed my face as carefully as if I was made of the finest glass, and he whispered, “Everything is fine.” He kissed me, gently at first. Then, laying me back, he kissed me so urgently, so intently, as if I might vanish from his arms at any moment.

Entry 15, Logan’s Diary

I kissed her, filling her with all the ion and love in the world, my sweet, sweet Cheryl. Over and over the terrible truth reverberated inside me—this is my last kiss to her, the last kiss, our last kiss... She always kept one step ahead of me, it seemed. Already, she sensed something was amiss. I must cut our time together short, put her to sleep before she would refuse, before she decided to stay awake worrying about me, trying to find out what troubled me. We kissed long. I caressed her hair, kissed her neck. I ran my hands along her arms, her waist, her legs, trying to memorize every precious inch of her, and she kissed back just as ardently, holding me close. Finally, we lay as the other night, and I hugged her body close to mine. “Logan,” she whispered sleepily. “Yes, my Cheryl?” “You’re sure everything is okay?” “Yes. Of course.” Everything would be all right, very soon. After a few minutes, she slipped into a deep, peaceful sleep. Carefully releasing my embrace, I knelt on the floor beside her. I would have to look directly at her face. I would have to concentrate harder than I ever had before, to ensure that I removed all memory of myself from her mind, while also ensuring I did not steal any other memories that were rightfully hers. “Good-bye, my sweet Cheryl,” I said, leaning forward to kiss her forehead one last time. As I pulled back, she stirred, smiling faintly in her dreams. I couldn’t help smiling too, through my tears. Then, taking a deep breath, I pressed my

fingertips to her temple and began searching. Focusing intently, I scoured her memory until I’d located every last trace of myself, down to that very first time I’d seen her in the antiques shop. Carefully, I extracted each moment, making certain to take nothing else. It proved difficult and exacting work since there were several days in which almost all of her thoughts, even her dreams, contained sweet images and loving thoughts of me. Seeing and hearing such tenderness made my heart ache all the more, threatened to break down my reserve. But I knew I must stay focused, that I must complete the job for her sake. Finally, it was finished. Cheryl lay weak and unconscious on the couch, her breathing shallow. The whole process had taken quite a toll on both her mind and body. I must get her to the castle at once so Lisal could mend her. Gently lifting her in my arms, I rushed with her from the cottage.

Entry 16, Cheryl’s Diary: Lost Dreams and Memories

Slowly, I opened my eyes and squinted in the light. It was night, and pale moonlight fell on my covers, mingling with the orange glow of a nearby candle. I must’ve been asleep a long while, for my eyes had difficulty adjusting to the dim glow. In fact, an uncommon weakness gripped my entire body. Something wasn’t right. Managing to turn my head, I saw Ferdinand dozing in a nearby rocking chair. “Ferdinand?” He stirred, and his eyes opened. The next moment, he sprang to my side, kneeling by the bed and taking my hand. “How do you feel?” “Very tired,” I said. “How long have I been sleeping? What happened? Have I been ill?” “You’ve been unconscious three days now. You were walking in the woods. You fell down a hill, hit your head. Lisal fixed the injury…” He added this quickly as I reached up to feel my forehead with the hand that wasn’t tightly grasped in his. “…but she couldn’t wake you up. So we’ve been waiting anxiously, hoping and praying.” “So...I’m going to be fine now?” “Yes.” He smiled, looking overwhelmingly relieved. He kissed my hand. “Yes, you’ll be fine.” He smiled at me a little while longer, but sadness lingered in his eyes, along with weariness. He rose to his feet. “I’ll go get Lisal. She’ll want to see how you’re doing. I’ll be right back.” He rushed from the room, and I lay back on my pillows, staring up at the ceiling,

pondering. More than sheer tiredness, Ferdinand had looked guilty. Something still wasn’t right. He didn’t tell me the whole truth. To protect me, I was sure— he always wanted to protect me—yet from what? I wanted the truth. Lisal had healed the unconscious before, bringing them back to their senses with no worries. So whatever had happened to me, it must’ve been more serious than hitting my head on a rock. It would be fruitless right now to try asking Ferdinand again. As I tried to what had happened myself, I was met only with frustration as my groping mind continuously hit a blank wall. ~*~*~*~ As I raced down the streets after him, it was still day, but no one else loitered in the town. There was only me, sprinting frantically after him. The streets stood so devoid of life that I should’ve easily been able to find him, but I couldn’t. I was lost, or maybe he was lost... Fleeing into the woods, I wanted to call his name—but what was it again? Searching frantically for his face, I realized with growing dread that I didn’t even know what kind of face I sought... I bolted upright in bed, breathing hard. A week had ed since my waking from the so-called injury, and still, nightmares plagued my mind, nor had I felt fully like myself. I felt like I was missing a part of myself, like too much uned time had flown by. Ferdinand said I was unconscious three days. But before then? A blank canvas, an empty blur, stretching too far back. Save the dreams. An eerie feeling told me they were connected to all of it, but when I told Ferdinand, he only said to rest. Even Lisal would offer no comfort or advice in the matter. So I had only the dreams and my memory. My feeble memory whose depths I searched vainly for some answer. My memory and... The rose.

I turned my head on the pillow to face the white rose glistening in the moonlight, set carefully on its place in the vase next to the window. Finding it on the ground yesterday, for some reason, I had felt as though a special significance clung to it. Was it a key to the answers I sought? “Cheryl?” I glanced over at Ferdinand who still sat by my bedside. As always, he gazed at me with concern. Irritation flooded my aching heart—aching for what?—and weary mind. “Ferdinand, when are you going to start sleeping in your own room again and get a decent night’s rest?” “I just want to be sure you’re all right,” he said, taking my hand. I yanked my hand back and sat up. “I might feel better if you would tell me what’s going on.” “Cheryl,” he said, sounding hurt, “why can’t you just trust me?” “Because I know you know something, Ferdinand. And I’m tired of you thinking you know how to protect me. If you’d just tell me...” “Sometimes not knowing is safer,” he said. “Not knowing what?” “Nothing,” he said, glancing down. “They’re just silly dreams from your fall...” “There was no fall,” I snapped. “If there was a fall that bad, I would have a bump, a scar, something, even with Lisal’s magical aid. But the man in my dreams—he’s real, isn’t he?” Ferdinand sat in stubborn silence, unable to look me in the eye, his body tense. “Ferdinand, tell me,” I demanded. “Tell me what’s going on. I keep seeing him in my dreams, but I can’t see his face; I can’t ...” I closed my eyes tight as the vision came to me gain.

“Cheryl, no—please, stop this...” Ferdinand’s words echoed so distantly. I was suddenly lost inside the dream, only this time, it was different... People walked in the streets, and I stood inside the antiques shop. Strolling, almost gliding down the street toward the shop was a man with golden hair, a sweeping cloak, and intense green eyes— My heart stopped, and then leapt rapidly. It wasn’t a dream. It was a memory. My mind struggled to see more, to recall the other memories I knew existed but were so far removed that it was all but hopeless to recall them. But then, a voice came with the face. A voice and then a name, and then a wood and a cottage and— “Logan!” I gasped, breathing hard as the vision faded, and my eyes opened wide. “Lying scum,” Ferdinand muttered beneath his breath. My gaze burned at him. “What’s going on, Ferdinand? The truth. Where is Logan? What’s happened?” “You really want to know?” Ferdinand snapped, anger and hurt raging in his eyes. “I’ll tell you. That man you fancied, that creep who claimed to love you, he’s a memory charmer. Lures girls so he can feed off their memories.” “He loves me,” I gasped, tears entering my eyes. The memories were still hazy, half-formed as though I watched them through a fog, but the love lingered, growing stronger and stronger every second. Curse Ferdinand’s accusations. None of them mattered. Ferdinand sighed in frustration. “I think he did care for you, yes.” I stared at him. “You talked to him?” “I was concerned about—” “What did you say to him? What did you do? Where is he—?”

“I didn’t have to say anything!” he shouted. “He told me he loved you too much to put you in danger, to do to you what he’d done to others. He said he’d take all your memories of himself away so he wouldn’t have to break your heart when he died—although I see he kept that promise quite well...” So many thoughts and questions raced through my mind that picking one to focus on seemed ludicrous. But one word stood out too clearly, too vividly. “Die?” I gasped. Guilt washed over Ferdinand’s tortured gaze as he said, more gently, “Without memories, he cannot live, and he said that he wouldn’t steal them anymore. For your sake most of all—” “And you agreed to this? You agreed, and now you accuse him of not doing it right? Have you no heart at all?” “It was you or him, Cheryl. He chose to protect you this way, not me.” “No,” I said darkly. “You always choose to ‘protect’ me. Well, let me tell you something. The memory I just saw, he didn’t even know about. He didn’t know I saw him that day before he entered the shop. So he didn’t leave it there on purpose. But it led me to him once, and it will lead me to him again, because if you think I’m going to just lay here while he’s dying alone—what if he’s already dead?” No sooner did I spring out of bed, starting toward the door, than Ferdinand blocked it, pleading, “No. I can’t let you go out there, Cheryl. I can’t let you risk your life for him, risk breaking your heart.” “It’s my life, and it’s my heart to break,” I cried, wrenching away as he reached for me. “Why do you keep refusing to accept that?” “Because I love you, Cheryl!” I stared. Stared in shock, in horror, like he was crazy... Deep hurt flooded his expression; I knew the words hadn’t come to him easily. But I didn’t care. I couldn’t care right now. I only wanted to be with Logan.

“Then let me go,” I said. He hesitated in the door-frame, his wounded gaze lingering on me, pleading. Then he stepped aside, and I fled the room, rushing from the castle and into the woods.

Entry 17, Cheryl’s Diary: The Last Memory

I burst into the cottage and stopped short, trying to catch my breath while choking back a sob. Logan lay stretched out on the couch, his eyes closed as if he slept peacefully. But the firelight revealed his faint pallor. A cloak of death sheathed him and seemed to hang from every rafter of the room. I was too late. Uncontrollable tears took me... He stirred. Or did I only imagine it? I rushed to his side and took his hand, so shockingly cold. “Logan...” He stirred again and, gradually, his eyes opened. This small movement looked strained, as if he hardly possessed the strength, or as if he had kept his eyes closed all these days, and now opening them was a foreign feeling. Surprise filled them faintly as he looked up into my face. “Cheryl? I mean...who..?” “Don’t try to fool me,” I whispered, tears falling down my cheek and onto his. “I know who you are...” As I reached out to brush my tears from his face, he took my hand and held it. Still staring at me in wonder, he spoke with difficulty. “But...your memories...I took them all; I made sure...” I shook my head. “You took all but one—the memory of our love, preserved in the memory of the first time I saw you. It was a memory you would not have known about, would not have been seeking to take.” He smiled at me faintly before his expression grew melancholy. “I’m so sorry, Cheryl. I didn’t want you to know any of it. I didn’t want to break your heart by letting you know what I was, and then by knowing I’d given my life to save you and others from myself.” “Ferdinand told me everything,” I whispered.

“And yet, you’re still here.” “How could I not be?” I cried. “I love you. I love you more knowing that you’re doing all this just to save me, even though I can’t agree with it.” “And to make things right, to do something right for once in my life.” “But why?” I stroked his hair. “Why didn’t you use the memories you took from me to extend your life?” “Because I love you too,” he said, ever so tenderly. “Because you showed me that life isn’t worth living if I can’t love someone.” “But you can still love me,” I pleaded, squeezing his hand and wishing I could will my life and breath to pump into him. “I would gladly give you my memories, any of them—all of them—if only we could be together.” He smiled weakly. “You showed me that, too—the perfect kind of love, the kind that takes self-sacrifice. That’s why I can’t do it anymore, Cheryl. Not to you, not to anyone. This is the only way that I can make sure no one else gets hurt by me ever again, including you.” Tears blurred my vision of his face, and I wiped them away angrily. Sadness clouded my mind, rendering me incapable of arguing against him. But I knew he wouldn’t listen anyway. He loved me too much, just as I loved him. “Cheryl,” he said, his voice growing serious. “There are some things I must tell you, before...” Unable to speak, I nodded for him to continue. “This house, as you know, is a magic house. It is also a wishing house. I’ve already wished it to you so that when I die, if you ever need a safe place to hide or live, it will be there for you. It never looks the same twice when it moves or changes owners, so there would’ve been no danger of it jogging your memory. But it is yours now, and all within it. “I feel you have the right to know something else. In the kitchen, beneath the table, is a trap door. All of my magic things are in there, including...including your memories of us. You can destroy them or keep them, whatever you choose.

I think you have a right to that choice. Perhaps I never had a right to take even those from you, even to protect you...” His voice trailed, and I felt the strongest urge to rip the kitchen table from the floor, delve down, grab some memories, and force him to feed on them. But I knew he would never allow that. “I want you to know, too,” he said, his breathing growing more and more labored, “I want you to know...that I really do love you. The time we spent together, however brief, is the most precious I ever spent with anyone. From that first day you came to my cottage, I knew you were special...” A tremor ed through him, and he winced. “Shh,” I whispered. “Shh...I know. I love you, too.” He smiled, his eyes dancing ever so faintly. I smiled as best I could in return, brushing his forehead with a kiss. When I pulled back, his eyes were closed, and he had gone from this world. I laid my head on his chest and wept, still stroking his hair and holding his hand. I don’t know how long I cried. Even when the tears ended, I couldn’t stop them from starting all over again as I felt his soft hair, as I looked upon his beautiful face, as I ed when he’d kissed or held me, and as I realized that he never would ever again. It was many hours later, I think, when I’d finally cried so many tears that I had no more left to cry. The first thing I did was slip into the kitchen, find a knife in one of the drawers, and cut a lock of his golden hair. Even in death, it shimmered faintly with his magic and now-faded life. Returning to the kitchen, I pushed the table aside. There, lit by the moonlight streaming through the window, was the brass handle of a trap door. I stepped back and stared at that door. For the longest time, I just stared at it, trying to decide what I wanted to do. Finally, I stooped down and pulled on the handle. The door lifted easily, and after finding and lighting a candle, I descended into the depths of the basement. Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, I gasped in wonder. So many shelves and tables were filled with books, globes, magical trinkets,

potions. Little chimes hung from the ceiling, singing as they turned. I crept slowly along each row of shelves, absorbing the sight with awe. Turning the corner, I came to a shelf filled with hundreds of glass orbs that each held small, glistening spheres of light within. I felt instantly drawn to them, like they were old friends. My heart raced and my breath quickened as a knowing dawned upon me. I glanced down the length of the shelf, studying the glistening glass orbs, each more precious than the rarest gems. Every single one held a priceless moment that I had shared with him. Memories. Before, they’d felt so important, but now, they seemed so irrelevant. Only here and now existed, and now felt so unbelievably sorrowful that I didn’t know if I wished for it to go on. Then I wished for those memories again, wished for that moment when I’d first seen him, when we’d first spoken, when I’d first followed the path to the cottage. Because he’d loved me and I loved him, I yearned for those memories to be here and now again. My gaze rested on a sphere containing a vision of us sitting on the couch in the reflection of the fireplace. I watched in the sphere as he read poetry to me for the first time and handed me a white rose. Cupping the tender moment in my hands, I wished that I could have it back again and hold onto it forever. Now, I held only grief and sorrow. Slipping to the floor, I allowed that grief and sorrow and the accompanying tears to overflow, washing over me from the inside out.

EPILOGUE

Cheryl’s Diary: Entry 1

A new diary to accompany a new start. The old diary is now kept safely in a box along with other things—the poetry book, the rose, various other treasures I’d collected from the house before leaving that day to remind me of him. The funeral took place the day after, beneath one of the trees close to his cottage. It was a small funeral, including only me, Ferdinand, Aaryn, and Lisal. No one else in town yet knew the true story of the memory charmer, and so we alone came, we who had known and, for my part, loved him. I returned to the cottage often for several weeks. I would sit by his grave and talk to him. Sometimes I went inside, curling up on the couch to sleep or cry. Sometimes I read one of the poems he’d read to me, trying to imagine he was there, uttering the words as tenderly as he had before. Gradually, as time ed and I began to heal, I visited the house less and less, though I still came often to his grave to bring flowers. And then, one day, the house just wasn’t there anymore, and I knew that I no longer needed it. As I sat beside his grave once again, ing, I wept softly. But as I touched the fresh grass and warm earth covering his grave, I smiled. The house no longer stood there but, as he’d promised, I knew it would be there when I needed it again. For now, I owned all that I needed—the memory of his love.

The End

Special Gift: The Chronicles of the Mira Free

~*~*~*~

Dear Reader,

That’s right: I have a special offer for you, dear lover of adventures, fantasy, and all things magical! Get your gifted copy of The Chronicles of the Mira (usually $2.99) when you sign up for my newsletter that features exclusive content for subscribers only. Just click this link to sign up and your new book!

Happy reading,

~ Christine E. Schulze

Dear Reader,

Thanks so much for taking the time to read my book! Memory Charmer was inspired by a number of really cool people I met during my college years at Southwestern Illinois College. It was also inspired by my fascination at the time with vampires who could choose whether or not to make good and moral choices. The memory charmer himself is like an incubus, only he feeds off of memories rather than energy. As for The Stregoni Sequence as a whole, I wanted to write a series in which each book explores a magical being, such as a genie or banshee, with my own twist. In each story, there is also some sort of spell or curse that needs to be broken. Themes like redemption and not judging others based on appearances can be seen throughout the series. If you’d like to help me out, please leave a review wherever my books are sold. I absolutely love hearing from my readers. Discovering a new review and reading what you have to say about my work makes my whole day. It also helps other awesome readers like yourself discover my book so they can enjoy it too! On that note, God bless, happy reading, and may you be inspired! I look forward to seeing you in my next book.

~ Christine E. Schulze

The Amielian Legacy More Books by Christine E. Schulze

The Amielian Legacy is a vast fantasy comprised of both stand-alone books and series for children and young adults. The Amielian Legacy creates a fantastical mythology for North America in much the same way that Tolkien’s Middle Earth created a mythology for Europe. While it’s not necessary to read any particular book or series to read the others, they do ultimately weave together to create a single overarching fantasy.

~*~*~ Young Adult Books ~*~*~

The Amielian Legends: A Young Adult Fantasy Collection (Can be read in any order)

The Gailean Quartet

~*~*~*~

Discover Prelude of Fire, the first in an epic quartet that combines music and magic while reminding us that our choices, not our circumstances, define who we truly are and will become. Start reading Prelude of Fire today wherever ebook and print books are sold online.

Serenade of Kings Symphony of Crowns Requiem of Dragons

The Stregoni Sequence

~*~*~*~

Dive inside The Stregoni Sequence and discover a hidden world filled with vampires, genies, fairies, elementals, and other fantastical creatures—many of whom are trapped inside dangerous spells. Can each spell be broken before it’s too late?

~*~*~ Children's Books ~*~*~

The Special Needs Heroes Collection

~*~*~*~

Be inspired by this collection of children’s illustrated adventures inspired by the author’s work with special needs adults. Enjoy with your child and help them discover the beauty of diversity.

Author’s Note: Of Macroworlds and Microworlds

Many of my stories take place in different worlds—including our own. Places such as Loz, Hyloria, the Lynn Lectim Academy, and the Surpriser kingdoms (which can all be visited in various of my books) root their history and settings in our world of Earth. But there are other worlds, such as Sulaimon from Bloodmaiden and Bienvinette from Golden Healer, Dark Enchantress. What are these worlds? Do they have a set number, or are they limitless? According to legend, at the beginning of time, Amiel, the great Creator and Protector God of all worlds (He is sometimes given other names in other worlds), created eight Macroworlds. These worlds are all accessible to each other, all interconnected. They are known as Earth, Novalight, Allyslies, Sulaimon, Bienvinette, Emreal, Fairie, and Etymology (the last of which is known also as “the first world” and best known as the “Elemental World”). Each world has its own races, histories, and, in some cases, magical powers that rule it. For example, the world of Fairie is a phoenix world; it dies in ash and flame every five hundred years, only to be resurrected anew by the Great Phoenix, and thus its cycle will continue until the end of time. Travel between Macroworlds is possible via magical portals, doors, spells, and other types of magic. Travel occurs often between the magical peoples of some worlds and rarely between others, though the eight Macroworlds all have some knowledge of one another. Non-magical humans have also been known to travel between worlds, either accidentally or in times of great need. The Microworlds are often much smaller. A Microworld can only be reached through the Macroworld in which it is housed. In Lily in the Snow, readers discover the Microworld “Spherice.” Spherice is a part of the Macroworld Etymology and can only be reached through Etymology. One could not find it from Novalight or Earth or any of the other eight Macroworlds. Perhaps one day, you may find yourself stumbling into one of the other worlds in this vast creation, among which ours plays only a small part. In the meantime, I hope you will enjoy their preserved stories which, as will be seen in the end, are

just as much a part of your own story.

About the Author

Christine E. Schulze has been living in castles, exploring magical worlds, and creating fantastical romances and adventures since she was too young to even write of such stories. Her collection of YA, MG, and children’s fantasy books, The Amielian Legacy, is comprised of series and stand-alone books that can all be read separately but also weave together to create a single, amazing fantasy. One of her main aspirations for The Amielian Legacy is to create fantasy adventures with characters that connect with readers from many different backgrounds. Her current focus is to include racially diverse characters and also those with disabilities. The latter is inspired by Schulze working with adults with autism and other developmental disabilities at Trinity Services in Southern Illinois. She also donates 25% of her royalties to ALFA, a local charity that s many of Trinity’s programs. Schulze draws much of her inspiration from favorite authors like Tolkien and Diana Wynne Jones, favorite games like The Legend of Zelda, and especially from the people in her life. Some of her exciting ventures include the publication of her award-winning Bloodmaiden, as well as The Stregoni Sequence and The Chronicles of the Mira with Writers-Exchange. Her books for younger readers include In the Land of Giants and The Amazing Captain K. Christine currently lives in Belleville, IL, but you can visit her on her website: http://christineschulze.com

Table of Contents

PART 1: The Boy Next Door PART 2: The Stregoni Diaries PART 3: Vapor PART 4: Memory Charmer EPILOGUE Special Gift: The Chronicles of the Mira Free Dear Reader The Amielian Legacy Author’s Note: Of Macroworlds and Microworlds About the Author

Memory Charmer, 3rd Edition Copyright © 2012, 2015, 2020, 2021 by Christine E. Schulze SMASHWORDS EDITION

Cover art created by Christine E. Schulze © 2020 Editing by JennaKay Francis © 2019 Formatting by Laura Shinn Designs © 2020 http://laurashinn.yolasite.com

This work is protected by both United States and International copyright laws and is provided solely for entertainment purposes. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. The scanning, ing, and distribution of this book or any part thereof via the Internet or World Wide Web or by any other means without the expressed permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law.

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales are intended solely to provide a sense of authenticity and are used fictitiously. All other characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.