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Chapter 1
It wasn’t change she minded. In the end it was the unknown that came with change, that left that punching hand around her stomach to squeeze until her eyes bulged with the fearful anticipation of what would come next. With the unknown came the question of failure…and the knife that twisted when those around gave a pitying glance as if they knew something more; the idea of jumping off a cliff with every last ounce of faith that there would be someone at the bottom to catch the fall—and then at last feeling the crush of bone and skin when at the bottom someone decided to flinch.
The rain rarely came down in such heavy sheets anymore, but on this night it was collapsing from the sky with the threat that it would never stop. Tira Kline looked up from her keyboard as thunder crashed outside of her window, a shuddering convulsion emerging from her as the waves of sound shook through her window. She shuddered away the revolting knot in her stomach and turned back to the flashing orange light at the side of her face—there would be no reason to turn off her computer until the power cut.
Ping!
Yet another message, remedied by Tira’s obsessively fast typing, which was nonetheless unheard over the storm. The teenager was not abnormal in her connection to the internet, and to her friends to which her only connection was the screen she stared at endlessly. She spent any waking hours where her day was not busied by the turmoil of high school on her computer, hidden away within the four square walls of her bedroom. She found disdain for those she spent her days with, wishing things could only go back to the way they used to be.
Another ping. Orange flashing light at the bottom of her screen. Click. Type. Enter.
The same routine could flow on for hours at a time. Multiple conversations like this seemed as though being able to talk on three phones at the same time. Tira tried to ignore the fact that she had moved—it had only been a year since they had settled in this place, and she hadn’t begun to consider calling it home. She tried to burry herself in her work and her computer, because it could make her forget what she thought was missing.
CRASH!
The sound came to her ears and she jumped, turning to glare out the window at the storm. Days like this frustrated her—days like this made her remember.
With the moon high in the sky Tira finally turned off her computer and watched her connection to the outside world darken, and with it the world about her. She stepped gently to her bed, climbing in and pulling the sheets close around her shoulders, looking to the ceiling as if it were looking back. Staring up there she could almost imagine she was home.
With a smile, she said, “Goodnight.”
As she closed her eyes Tira waited for her mind to numb and allow her to drift off to sleep. The moment came only minutes later, a heavy creeping deadness—and in the same instant she began slipping away to her dreams a voice came to her ears, calling her back.
“Miss? Is something wrong?”
Tira slowly drifted back toward consciousness. She could see bright morning light coming through her eyes but it didn’t seem right. She didn’t want to open them, because opening them meant there was no chance of going back to sleep.
“It’s Saturday…” she groaned, turning her face toward the pillow to hide it from the light.
“Your Highness it’s far too late to dally. Especially on a day like this. You’re normally up by now. ‘Up before the sun’, you say. Well, the suns up! It’s time!” She felt the sheets ripped from her.
For a moment she curled up, cold air flowing over her, chilling her and making her shake. After a time her grip loosened and she allowed herself to sit up and open her eyes, Tira gasped, clapping both hands over her mouth to resist screaming.
Her eyes widened as she took a glance about the room she was in—the detail was impecable. A small square room of pure hues of white. The bed she was upon was clean and silken-sheeted. All that was otherwise in the room retained the pale hues her eyes had first searched for. The night gown donned upon her was thin and of the same silken material it seemed the sheets had been made of. Air blew in from the open balcony, her gown ruffling in the breeze as she climbed from the bed.
As Tira climbed from the bed, her feet hitting the cold tile and the sound of each slapping step resonating about the room, she made her way from the room and to the railed balcony that extended from it. Below her a garden extended out to the short rows of guarded walls that surrounded the massive building she was within. Winding paths lined with tall flowers and budding plants of all colors. Only a select few trees—each guarded with speculation—were placed strategically about the garden. Statues found themselves about the walls of the building, as if to blend in with its ribbed deep coral colored walls. Another breeze blew stiffly past Tira, slapping her in the chest as if to cause her to squint against it and tighten her grip on the railing she stood against.
All eyes of those working in the garden turned to her, some hands clapping to mouths.
“Oh…my god.”
After a long moment to gaze across the garden Tira whirled and jogged back inside, eyes finally falling to the owner of the voice who had first called her conscious in this place. She stood still, looking the girl down and then back up again. Clad in a simple tunic and slippers, long hair pulled to the back of her head the girl appeared to be a maid. And then something came to her eyes, something she’s never seen before…long pointed ears much like those of an Elf.
The word seemed to resonate in Tira’s mind and she felt a wave of confusion wash over her. She’d never had any interest in the medieval times or their mythology. Earth…my dreams are always on Earth…and we don’t have Elfs.
She paused a moment longer, looking down and up at the girl before her again. Tira had always been able to distinguish between dream and reality, and was conscious of her dreams as they occurred…but this…
She flushed, her heart pounding and her body rejecting this experience… She ran to the door, flinging it open to see before her a bright hall, of whites and blues. Chandlers hung about every 20 feet down the hall, suspended in the air as if by magic, their candles snuffing out as she watched. Maids, knights, nobles, and invited guests bustled down the hall, many of their ears also pointed as the maid in her room’s ears had been. Everyone looked up at her, each maid tensed as she laid her eyes upon them. She whipped inside, slamming the door.
She turned to the small woman who had woken her and lain out her garments for the day, now attempting to scurry off through the adjacent door.
“Where am I?” she hissed, paling more and more by the moment.
It must be a dream, there’s nothing else it could be. Her body so strongly rejected her mind, the idea shocked her that she could be somewhere she was not supposed to be. She closed her eyes and leaned against the door, feeling the woods grains against the grooves of her fingers and slowly heaved a breath. Calm. I need calm.
As her body slowly allowed her breathing to ease Tira lifted off the door and moved to examine the clothing that had been lain out for her. Two petticoats and a skirt were out on the bed with a tunic and wrap. Tira dressed quickly, strapping on the heeled boots lain out with the clothing, and grabbing the cloak incase she would need it, before she went to the door and quickly swung it open.
All eyes fell to staring at her as she walked, though this time she ignored their glances. If there was something going on here she decided there was no sense in not spending what time she had in this dream finding out what it was, for morning would come eventually.
She walked down the right end of the hallway, turning to glance out the highly arched glass panes. Every inch of the glass was sparkling clean, not a mark on it. There was a simple blue and white—to match the rest of the hall—patterned rug that ran from one end of the hall to the other, stopping in no place. On the other side of the hall were mirrors and doors. Each open door that lead to another hall or room was partially and perfectly covered with a tapestry and hanging silk curtain. Each tapestry was hand-woven and told a story that involved the Elfs and their turmoils.
Tira stared out the windows at the countryside she saw there. She assumed there must be a town somewhere to match this castle, full of people looking just like the maid she’d met in her room. Elves. Even in her dreams…was it really possible?
She got her answer as she rounded her first corner, slamming blindly into someone and collapsing to the floor.
“I’m sorry!!!” She stammered. The words fell out of her mouth, something she said each time, so common and yet still with feeling.
“Sorry? The Princess Larina? I think this may be the first time in your life you have apologized and been sincere.” She pulled herself from the hall rug, staring straight into the face of another Elf.
The moving window held with remouse that which had always been displaced with dignity. The ideal memory whispered to the smaller town whose buildings did not tower and lean over their residents as if trees whose evers would forever n** at the ankles of the future as if asking the past to remember. When the wind blew and wrapped in its embrace those welcome to its arms there were few who did not call such a place home.
Afternoons in suburban Virginia usually quiet, hidden from the world’s turmoil in areas where the sun’s rays still steeped untainted through open windows. At times they were quite boring, unless—of course—you have somewhere to go. Keith Tucker was going home.
The tall, young wirey-limbed teenager had decided to walk home today. Sweat poured down his limbs in sheets. His body ached and his mind drifted off to desinations far from his home and the safety and shelter of suburban life. He stepped to the door and reached into his pocket for a key to allow him to step inside. The wind blew and he paused, key pressed within the rigid lock, letting the air flow about him. When the wind died he pulled the key from the lock and replaced it to his pocket.
He swung the door wide and called inside, “Mom! I’m home!”
“Alright Ricky.” She called back. From the living-room, he could hear the smile in her voice. He smiled at her, rolling his eyes and shooting up the stairs as soon as the door was closed. Everybody’s a critic.
His feet padded heavily on his carpet as he made his way across the room toward his connection to people outside his world. When he pressed the power button he stepped back and watched the moniter for the words Windows XP to read across the screen before turning away and moving to change from his sweat-ridden clothes. When he came back his computer was exactly how he liked it, all three big messangers up so he could see who was on and who wasn’t. His eyes scanned the buddy list, everything seemed in order. Except…where was Tira?
Something hadn’t felt right since this morning, yet he’d never been able to put a finger on exactly what was wrong—he’d woken up from a sound sleep with a knot in his stomach that just wouldn’t go away. He’d been questioning going to the soccer game, but his team needed him—he was sure of that, so he’d gone…and everything had worked out alright. Yesterday his girlfriend had given him a gift for their six month ‘anniversary’, under the pretense that since their relationship had lasted so long she wanted to get him a present—he hadn’t remembered the date.
He’d taken it from his backpack the day before and sat it, still wrapped, on his dresser—where it proceeded to stare him down until he turned to glance at it with the thought in his mind that he should open it, for her sake. She’d given him one clue as to what the large, obviously heavy object might be—she’d bought it from a pawn shop. His hands rested against the heavy red paper, fingers running over the white polka-dot form of the paper and the faded marks. When he finally picked it up and sat down again in his computer chair he stared at the paper again, eyes locked at its center…feeling his mind drift away, the heavy pounding of his heart in his ears.
Ping!
The noise startled him back; he gasped and jumped from his chair—the book tumbled from his lap and slammed with a thud on the floor. He heard the voice, loud and slightly paniced, “Keith? Are you alright!?”
“Mom, I’m fine!” He called back. The voice didn’t come again. He looked down at the book for a minute, heard another ping and turned his eyes to the computer screen. The message asked if he would like to accept an instant message with an unknown by the name of ‘dl227091’. He had heard two IM’s, and it was rare that a computer sent more than one—he paused for a moment, eyes locked on the name, and then he accepted.
dl227091: do you know tira kline?
dl227091: do you know tira kline?
KDTucker: Why?
dl227091: do you know tira kline?
KDTucker: Yes, why? Who are you???
dl227091: where is tira?
KDTucker: Is something wrong? Is Tira okay???
dl227091: where is tira?
KDTucker: I don’t know! Is Tira okay?!
dl227091 has signed off
The proverbial knife jutted into Keith’s chest; he could feel the tightening and the thrum as his heart beat faster. He saw Tira’s face in his mind, closed his eyes against the darkness. He turned his eyes to the starch white ceiling—he could feel the tightening in his chest and gasped for breath again. Not only had Tira not been online—she was always online—but she was being asked about by someone who asked questions and gave no answers. He thought of what she’d been through in the past six months—her life had most litterally been turned upside down, uprooted from her home and everything she knew, Tira went from a small town area not far from Detroit, Michigan to a small town big money area just outside of Louisville, Kentucky. Her mother had out of the blue decided that she wanted the family to start over somewhere new and fresh, and that both her son and daughter were young enough—though both high school age—for it not to effect them immensely. And so they moved away from everything they knew, and Tira hadn’t been the same since.
Tira was without difficulty able to get into the Musical Theatre Magnet Program at the local magnet high school as a way to keep herself busy for the sake of her sanity. From the moment they had first moved in, and begun unpacking boxes full of things that seemed to belong no other place than the home Tira had taken her first steps in she had thrown herself into her work. When she was not studying or doing homework she was online. He hadn’t heard of once beyond school related activities that she’d been out of the house—he assumed there were times when her mother forced her to, but it was rare. Tira had talked to him about how her mom was never home anymore, and her older brother loved this place much better than Detroit—she despised it and talked to Keith about wanting to go home.
Since the move Tira’s boyfriend of two and a half years had broken up with her, telling her that the distance was too much—in her words, he’d found someone else. They’d been together since Keith and Tira had met online about two years ago. He could close his eyes and remember the place on the game when they’d met, she and her new boyfriend were together then…playing a game he’d wanted to at his home. She told Keith about him later, they’d known each other since middle school—five years. He’d asked to borrow her calculator, she told him. Tira had been playing a game on her calculator and hadn’t responded—she laughed about it back then. After that long the possibility of them dating seemed all but inevitable, she thought they were soul mates—and maybe they were.
From the day they broke up onward Keith was always worrying about Tira—her life had fallen apart. There had not been a day Keith knew her that since the move she had not been online, even with an away message. She wanted everyone to know she was okay, or to think it, even if she wasn’t.
Yet there had never been much he could do…they were only online friends. He’d decided that put limits on what kind of relationship they could have. He didn’t even have her cell phone number—not that he hadn’t asked for it. She told him she didn’t have a cell phone, but he knew she was lying. There was something about the story that didn’t add up—but he didn’t question her. He looked down—the book was still in its place on the floor but the knife was gone. There was nothing he could do.
Although, he needed a distraction—he was sure he was overreacting and a distraction would pass enough time so that he could wait until Tira would come online and would show him that this was all for nothing. He looked up at the IM again, ‘dl227091 has signed off’, and he wondered who this person was—and what exactly did they want with Tira Kline?
His eyes fell to the polka-dot paper and the book—it prauded his ankles, nipping at his toes…begging him to pick it up. He stooped to the floor and clamped his fingers about its sides, turning it over in his hands as he returned to his seat, pulling open the paper in one shredding streak across the tape at its core. When he pulled it off to the side and turned the item around he stared at it again. Leather bound, the anniversary gift had been a book. Old leather, faded in only certain spots where it was to be held. At its center a metal clasp rung, with a symbol of the trinity enclosed—bearing the colors of a glassy yellow, blue, and green. He raised a hand to the trinity, eyes still held upon it, pulling on it to break it from the rest of the leather strap about the book. The clasp didn’t lift. He tugged again, and nothing. He turned the book over, looking for a key hole, perhaps a key, to unlock the book—again, nothing. Keith stooped to pick up the wrapper, looking inside to see a small dark substance inside. He reached in and pulled it out, finding in his hands a key—but then, where was the key hole??? When he turned the large text over again he saw it…in the center of the trinity…a key hole. Keith pressed the key between his fingers, and pressed it into the lock. As he began to turn it a bright blast of light errupted from the upper most triangle of the trinity, the yellow triangle. Keith gasped, but his hand kept turning the key—as the sound of the key clicking in the lock reached his ears the light was gone as if it had never come.
He blinked, looking at the lock, watching it tip and fall open. A thin sheet of clean parchment paper stared back at him. He lifted a hand to it, raised it and turned it slowly. The next page was empty as the first. He waited, confused, but nothing came. After a moment Keith lifted his hand again and turned another sheet of parchment paper. He turned again, and stopped, his breathing becoming labored…nothing, again.
“Why is there nothing?!” He asked outloud, his voice sharp, twisted with anger.
And then, as he asked, the words began to materalize before him…and a voice whispered in his ear…a voice he did not recognize… “As I stand, the Scions of Earth have begun to seal the evil we have fought so long to destroy. Before me, the King and his only surviving child watch in awe. Behind me, the remaining seventy-three citizens of the Elven Kingdom watch and wait for their lives to begin to return to the normality we all crave so desperately. They cling to the hope, for we have little left to cling to. Their fine silks and mail have been reduced to naught but tenuous rags, grasping their sweat soaked bodies in a tight and almost caring embrace…”
He breathed heavily, and the words began to spill upon the pages as a hand would spell them, “On their knees around me a small sea of people has begun to pray with the Scions. They have spoken their final words to one another, and begun the spell. An encircled Trinity surrounds the three and bands of light have begun to shoot from the triangular symbol that rests between the them. Their lips move but the voice that emerges is not their own. I will record these words as I hear them.
‘Flesh of man, body of Mer, reform in the Kingdom of the Sea. Take your Castle. Rebuild your Kingdom. Take this punishment we feel fit to bestow upon your kind eternally in retribution for the rebirth of your people. The Demonic creatures with whom you destroyed all of Man will rest within your Waters. Your Waters will reawaken. You will reawaken and take the burden. I call upon thee. AWAKEN.’
The water glows.”
Keith’s eyebrows turned downward, he asked again out loud, “Why?!”
The words spilled forward again, “ ‘Creatures of Land, Man and Elf, your burden will be a obstinate one as well. You will be the Protectors and the Guides of the Scions. The Order of Druid will come forth once again. The Philosophers and Scions will be the only reach to the Goddess. For the first hundred years of your existence, newly reborn Man will take adamant determination to survive. If your Race dies, the Goddess will not revive it. You will reawaken and take the burden. I call upon thee. AWAKEN.’
The light begins to envelope the Scions as they speak their last spell in a language I do not understand. A warmth and brightness erupts from the Trinity.
They are gone.”
“WHO!?”
After a long pause the last words scrolled at the edge of a last page… “--Scribe Romayne of the reign of King Jaxon II” The voice faded into the background, and a warm yellowish light clouded the words on the pages of the scripture Keith held. He watched them dissapear and in their place a single declaration in a script he could hardly understand appeared before him.
Enter
He read the word, mesmerized by its appearance.
“Enter…”
And he did.
 animepurinsesu · Fri Apr 06, 2007 @ 10:34pm · 3 Comments |
