

OBSIDIAN PRESS

Copyright © 2015 by Miriam Yvette

All rights reserved

Publisher's note

The following work is fictional. The author's imagination inspires the characters, names, people, alive or dead, settings, products, businesses, and places. Any resemblance is fictitious and coincidental.

ISBN: 978-1-7340131-1-5

The content in this book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any print or electronic format without permission.

Miriam Yvette

For my mother, Alicia.

#  Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1 Leaving Osois

Chapter 2 Gilia

Chapter 3 A Tyrant's Pain

Chapter 4 The Old Saying

Chapter 5 Aching Pride

Chapter 6 Smiling Benjamin

Chapter 7 The Will to Live

Chapter 8 Dr. Graham's Frustration

Chapter 9 The Ponderosa

Chapter 10 Blood and Leaves

Chapter 11 Desultory Time

Chapter 12 First Contact

Chapter 13 Conflicting Emotions

Chapter 14 Memory Lane

Chapter 15 Tied Souls

Chapter 16 Dr. Graham's Frustration, Again

Chapter 17 Preconceived Attitude

Chapter 18 Darcus

Chapter 19 Out of Options

Chapter 20 Ruffled Crow

Chapter 21 Red Sacrifice

Chapter 22 Matthews

Chapter 23 Cultists

Chapter 24 Rat's Plan

Chapter 25 Shadow

Chapter 26 Switched

Chapter 27 Black Wings

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Glossary

For your journey, a Glossary is available at the end of this book.

Prologue

The Ripple Effect on Earth

I have not seen it all, but I can feel the aftershock. The consequences of the human race. I feel them underneath my belly. The earthquakes come to me as violent screams. I am no historian, though I know much. I am no guardian, though they call me the gatekeeper. What I know is that in the year 2030, humanity could no longer hold back the penalties of climate change. Fossil fuel emissions skyrocketed, ice caps crumbled, and ecosystems weakened. The ambition of powerful corporations influenced the government, pumping their demand for commercial space. The indigenous Amazon tribes who fought for the conservation of their rainforest defended what remained of its animals and trees. But the Brazilian government would not falter. The same resistance befell in the United States, no longer shielding the treasured expansive forestry and terrains. Like the Sierra National Forest and Yosemite National Park. Untiring warnings and protests had become a bandage. Every elected president gave unfilled promises, while congress remained divided.

Meanwhile, natural habitats starved for their lost land. And the preservation of marine life could not sustain the damage. Food supply and its quality decreased, and it forced chefs to resort to alternatives.

Era of Laws

By 2035, the people from every country banded together, no longer identifying themselves as South African, British, Chinese, or American. They have become a people of the world. They protested and risked a civil war against those who long pretended they were mute. They were free of politics and worship of its parties. But it wasn't until the stock market dropped that the government fell to its knees.

By 2040, The United States enforced federal regulations that led many to call it The Era of Laws. To heal the damaged ecology, multiple national parks were closed from tourism and commercial expansion. Just as wars led to the enhancements of technology, advancing material management for landfill waste became the fight. The innovations for municipal solid waste increased biodegradable contents for packaged products. It cut back the containers and packaging materials that accumulated waste by the tons.

Technology

Electric operated motors and components replaced most everyday equipment, bringing forth the advancement of graphene batteries. But the technological advancements many hoped to see in the future decelerated. Certain communication developments, however, advanced. The televisual replaced televisions, becoming a modern commodity, still broadcasting channels that entertained the world. Reliable cell towers of light transmission replaced the unnecessary bulky communication towers. One such tech company, known as Spade, developed the light-ware, a hologram computer device.

Another world

By the end of 2040, trees were re-invited back into the city streets. Vines could grow among commercial buildings, surrounding naked skyscrapers. Summer could finally be tolerable under the embracing shade of its branches and leaves.

But Earth remains in a coma induced state, unaware that another world needs saving. Many call it Asylum, but its real name in my native tongue, I can no longer utter. Meanwhile, my brethren have witnessed enough bloodshed. The Lunar War has become an unstoppable cycle of death. Asylum has become Sleeping Beauty, waiting for someone to make the ultimate sacrifice. Though I always had faith in their people, they are losing hope. I sometimes dream what Earth can do for them. Sometimes I wonder. Can we produce the hero they need?

Nonetheless, we cannot go back. Now that Earth has been invaded from the far-reaching stars. That white-haired woman and human created the ripple effect I cannot stop.

It started in the year 2050.

  * Berdon, Dragon of Earth

The sun rises at dawn

The moon glows at dusk

Constant but forever changing

New and old

It flows in the sea of time

This is the story of my Birth

# Chapter 1

Leaving Osois

Avalon slipped inside the undercaves before the guards sealed the black doors. Now she couldn't touch it without warning the entire palace of her intrusion. She hurried through the mine until she reached the main chamber where all the mining channels were dug. She stood at the edge. They placed no guard rail to protect anyone from falling to their death. She clenched her fist and analyzed the pitfall. Emperor Verus's precious Helix was said to be at the bottom, but where? That was the problem. She leaped for gravity to take, landing two floors below. Her steps were the only echoes in the silent mine, absent from its workers. She jumped, passing three levels to cover more distance.

Every time she leaped, she marveled at the expansive undercaves. Colorful rocks protruded from all areas, providing a faint blue light. The mines could be made into a city, but they reserved its purpose for catarelia ore. Still, the spacious underground was safer than the world above. Osois was a dangerous planet. Its people, the Lenur were careful not to venture from the Empire.

This was because of the Mori. They were soil-dwelling creatures that lived underneath unsought virgin lands. The soil was their home, breathing underground, sniffing, devouring any trespasser that awoke them. While some stood as tall as towers, their average size competed against the mountains. And once a Mori was disturbed from her slumber, they could not stop the beast.

Avalon landed on the last floor, noticing how little room she had to breathe. Ahead was a narrow passageway, crammed with light. She went to see what it contained, all while she could not soften the goosebumps on her arms. This was because they mined the undercaves despite the danger of the Mori. Emperor Verus risked such an encounter because his people needed catarelias. They were living rocks that offered their greatest necessity to survive. She stopped at the well-lit room, it was no Helix. Tiny catarelias were recently planted in rows covering the ground, walls, and ceiling. They were the kind that steered the darkness from homes and elegant halls.

Avalon wiped her left eyebrow as blood was still oozing from it. She turned back and found a boy blocking the way out. Swirling around his gold-colored eyes was amber and citrine dust. Like catarelias, Lenurs had features that made them one with the planet. This kind depended on their eye color, but it contained gem, diamonds, or metal dust that whirled around their irises. It was the only thing that made them stand out from one another. This was because Lenurs were pale-faced, with dark eyebrows and with hair that only carried hues of dark grey to white.

"Raiyne," Avalon said after the boy did not greet her. "Where are the miners and craftworkers?"

"Everyone is attending the wedding."

"I see." It wasn't that Avalon forgot. She didn't want to think such an occasion would bring everyone out of the undercaves.

The boy guided her back to a smaller, darker passageway. Avalon missed it, distracted by the light in the room. It relieved her the boy decided to meet her, not questioning what he probably heard along the way. Since she didn't hope to find the Helix on her own, the boy's sensitive nose could improve her chances. She knew this because Raiyne often left the Empire in search of rare catarelias.

"A scholar once told me the sky kingdoms were made of pure Helixes." The boy glanced at her. "Is it true?"

"Scholars shouldn't be saying such things."

The studious teachers of the Empire were losing control, subdued to silence by the Advisors who forced them to close their libraries, and only teach how the Empire came to be. It made her wonder how the boy got a scholar to speak. Ahead were many narrow tunnels that led to many channels. But the further they went, the harder it was to breathe. They had to slow down and not push themselves if they wished to find it.

"I'll be honest, Raiyne." Avalon studied the boy's black cloak. It was the same garment he took to the battlefield. "I didn't think you would help me."

The boy didn't explain because his nose needed to concentrate. Since his eyesight was better in the dark, he looked at her red tunic. It had been ripped, torn by the person she murdered.

"It looks like a dead-end." The airflow stopped, and her lungs were struggling to breathe.

But Raiyne didn't mind her, he continued, forcing her to follow. Just ahead was a faint blue light emitting from the ground. It came from a crystalline rock, compressed by the atoms that formed its oval shape. It lifted from the ground, sensing other life forms. Below were white roots that secured it. Catarelias were called living rocks over obvious reasons, they could move. But Helixes were unique, they could create floating kingdoms, and defend them at will.

"They might kill you after this." She stood by the boy to marvel at the Helix.

"They might."

"Aren't you scared?"

"No."

"You beast-folk can be foolish." She rubbed his hair, his silver tones were lighter than her own. Her attention moved back to the Helix. She held her breath and kneeled before it. Her hands slowly moved towards one of the roots. "Hello there."

The root jerked back and slapped her hand. Blue light transitioned to red. The color was universal for all catarelias.

It was angry.

"My name is Aveyonari Sames," Avalon said. "My ancestors were once your masters."

The Helix turned a light blue with red lining the smooth oval shape. It heard her, but it was not sure if she was telling the truth. Avalon placed her hand on the soil, allowing the fuzzy end of the root to approach her. It curled around her index finger, slipping through her garments until it found her neck. The fuzz was made of tiny fibers, but once spread apart, it revealed a sharp needle. It sunk into her skin, piercing her cervical spine. Avalon winced, holding the uncomfortable intrusion and throbs because it was opening her Ascending realm. It drank her memories. Most of them were painful ones. After a pint of blood, it unlatched and left a stream to run down her neck. The other roots freed their hold on the soil, causing the crystallized rock to saturate into a darker shade. The pact was made, but the Helix was not ready. It needed to taste the atmosphere before it could invite her inside.

"This place leads to the fourth tower," said Raiyne, looking up at the long tube the workers carved. "Be there when it surfaces."

Avalon ruffled the boy's hair once more. "Thank you."

Raiyne didn't nod or say, "you're welcome," instead, he focused on their aim. "The shortest route to the fourth tower is fifty floors from here. Once you get out, I will stay to open the platform."

They left the narrow tunnels and inhaled the rich air. Before Avalon could count the floors. The boy leaped ahead. He could have transformed and guided his crystalized wings, but he used his legs instead. Avalon followed, smiling all the same. In her eyes, everyone in the Empire was her enemy. They met during a campaign against Tal'ed. It was an ordinary day when the foot soldiers and generals turned their backs against her, since that was how the Advisors worked. As soon as her first comrade struck her, she didn't hold back or give them a chance to change their minds.

Raiyne was among the company that went against her, so she assumed the boy was another pawn. But her aggressive approach sparked something inside him. The citrine and amber dust in his eyes started to glow. He then growled until he transformed, turning into a beast she had never seen. But he didn't look like the Mori. He was four-legged, with the eyes of an animal carrying a long tail. When his wings expanded against her, it protruded violet shards. A voice inside Avalon told her to spare him, and she did. Seeing she would not kill him, the boy became her ally, guarding her back when they were outnumbered by both their allies and the people of Tal'ed.

"How did you graduate?" Avalon asked when they reached the thirtieth floor. "It's not every day a child passes the Elite Academy." Being a graduate herself, she knew it was grown men and women who passed their harsh training, not a boy who had yet to reach puberty.

"I don't know," Raiyne responded. He was sweating, but his muscular legs could still reach a distance.

"You don't know, or you don't want to say?"

"Both."

Avalon chuckled because speaking wasn't his best trait. Though it was true, the scholar's libraries were closed, she had her own way of sneaking inside. There she found an archive on Beast-folk and their lacking social skills. Words didn't come naturally to them, for giving in to one's emotions would bring out their four-legged form. Somewhere along the way, they learned to keep their moods and temperament at a level beyond complacent. The last scholar who wrote about them noted that many viewed them as cold-hearted and uncaring. But it wasn't that their emotions or empathy was gone, but rather, they just didn't depend on it.

When they reached their last level, the black door that led back to the palace were still glowing a flaming red seal. Many of these doors were around the palace, blocking private rooms from unwanted intruders. Avalon tapped her foot against the stone flooring. She would break through it if she could, but it would alert the guards, the wives, and worse, Emperor Verus. Raiyne pressed his hand against the seal. It swirled around his fingers until it opened. He was one of those sanctioned hands.

Before stepping through it, Avalon opened her palms. She closed her eyes to mask her body until she slowly faded. She learned the skill of invisibility through her grandmother, Famira. When she was a citizen of the Empire, they nicknamed her, The Ghost because she had a habit of sneaking up on people. Now the skill was short of amusement. One bump from the guards and they would unveil her.

"May I ask who sanctioned your hands?" Avalon asked when she finished. She was just a voice now.

But Raiyne held back his answer. Such a conversation would unreasonable with a task at hand. He shut the black doors instead, forcing her to hurry to the hall before the fiery seal re-activated. The blood on her brow came down once more. The cut carried a heavy enchantment that prevented her blood cells from clotting. Ahead awaited the grand halls and the guards who had not stopped searching for her. Her heart thumped when she passed them. They were running about with their hands clenching their sword from their belt. But none suspected that she walked among them.

She took any passage that was vacant from onlookers. The quickest way to the fourth tower was through the east wing and past the Three Heroes' room. Not a single guard occupied the area, and she didn't question its vacancy until a young girl left her chamber. Behind were her handmaidens, carrying the end of her long gown. The fabric adorned her body with jewels, tracing the roundness of her chest and hips.

Avalon leaned against the wall, allowing them to pass. A veil covered the bride's face, and they made her braids to surround her gold crown. Though her eyes were drawn to the floor, a smile lingered on the corners of her lips. Avalon pressed her fingertips to her heart. The racing pace inside was slowing down, as if it wanted to stop. She, too, wore the same crown. But there was no smile on her face that day. She was furious, ready to kill Emperor Verus if he told her to enter his chamber. When the bride reached the arched doors, she still couldn't turn away. Not until she reassured herself.

He won't touch her.

He couldn't.

He promised.

She went on her way, feeling somewhat surprised by her delay to see an elitist daughter. As she marched down the hall, she hated the palace. It always felt like a maze, composed of many entryways. It was built along the mountain, overlooking the Empire's capital, Erolt. Avalon stopped before crossing the antechamber. The room belonging to the Three Heroes was across, and just past them was the fourth tower. But many guards were zooming by and dispersing with nervous chatters.

"The Elites are on their way," one reported to his comrade.

Avalon held back her desire to sigh the additional problem away. She couldn't risk reinforcements. It wasn't that the guards were easy to fool, but that Elites carried unique abilities that could outweigh another. She pressed her back against the corner and made sure every step was graceful. When she successfully passed the antechamber, she hurried to the room of the Three Heroes. At the center was a marvelous statue made of blue stone. It depicted three men standing side by side in long cloaks. The strange thing about them was that they carved their heads out. It was abnormal because the other statues that honored those who helped create the Empire had heads and their weapon of choice. But for some reason, the headless heroes carried nothing.

Avalon held her breath, not realizing three of the Emperor's wives stood by it, blocking the way to the fourth tower. Though she knew their names, they always called each other sister-wife. They were chatting, directing the guards away, assuring they secured the fourth tower.

"I never liked that Aveyonahri," one of them said. Her curly hair was almost to her knees. She never accessorized them, but she kept them from touching her face. Avalon would have reached the same length, but her hair was short, and not by choice. "To think she slaughtered our eldest sister."

"Hush," said Omari, who was the shortest of them all. She was three inches below Avalon's chin and was older than her. Now her eyes shined. "I sense a change in the atmosphere."

"Is it her?" The long-haired one said.

"Nay." But her eyes still glimmered. "It was but the passing wind, someone opened a door on one of the balconies."

"I told the guards not to open them!" huffed the long-haired one. She passed Avalon, taking her quiet sister-wife along.

The quiet one only talked when she was drunk. To Avalon's surprise, she once spoke to her by the fire, conveniently when Emperor Verus was taking a stroll. It made her wonder if she did it to be in his good graces. But because she had no friends, she had to conclude that was it. A quick wave in her peripheral forced her absent mind to act, catching the foot that swung at her face. She gripped it, sensing it wanted to smear her cheek with dirt.

"I should kill you," whispered Omari. Her emerald-colored eyes dimmed, and her foot moved back. "But I love him more than you could ever imagine."

"You're letting me go?"

Omari turned her back as if she was not behind her. "I'll change my mind if you ask again."

Avalon ran this time, losing her invisibility. She looked at her garments, torn and ripped from the woman who threatened her. She opened the arched doors and jogged through the fourth tower. It stood on the highest peak of the Mountain of Sei, overlooking Erolt. At the end was a round platform, marked by nine stars and a moon. It parted, leaving the stone to grind against the plates that moved them, revealing the cavity of the undercaves.

Below was the Helix, surfacing as Raiyne planned. The crystal exterior hardened into a healthy brown. It cracked open, revealing a cavity large enough for Avalon. She bowed before it, allowing the roots to lovingly brush her hair, just like Famira used to. It lifted her cheek and invited her forward, but a voice forced her to turn away.

It was the Advisor and his usual red robes. His white mask was carved to look like thorns were protruding from it. Though he was one of the nine men who counseled Emperor Verus. He approached her, lacking fear of what she could do to him. Four Elites, fresh from the academy, joined him with raised swords.

"You can leave, but we both know its hopeless," said the Advisor. "Where will you go?" He took off his mask, showing the wrinkled face Avalon despised. "Not every galaxy you cross is brimming with life."

One of the Elites was itching for a fight, so he left the group and charged from his group. He wanted to get close, just enough to cut Avalon. But he slammed into an invisible shield the Helix created. Another Elite acted and ran to the side, hoping to swing his curved sword. But the Helix turned red. It uncoiled one of its roots, piercing through its own barrier, breaking the sword and stabbing his chest. The man howled as the fuzzy fibers projected as shards and retracted from his body.

Avalon chuckled. She always felt Elites straight from the Academy were stupid. Their heads were filled with overconfidence, wanting to gain enough reputation to earn the caspedian cloth. It was, after all, the sturdiest armor in the Empire. Having seen the Helix had a vehement defense. The clever ones stayed with their Advisor.

"Disgusting," said Avalon. "Elites serve their people and Emperor, not his counsel."

"You killed the oldest wife of his highness," answered one of them. "It is our duty to punish you."

"But how will you do it?" She smiled, seeing they were not aware of what kind of catarelia was before them. "Have you ever went against a Helix?"

"Treacherous woman!" cried the Advisor.

The others watched in silence as the roots wrapped around her like a vine would to a gravesite in Spring. It lifted her and brought her inside, mimicking the beating sound of her heart. When she looked at the hall, she sensed him, but he would not show himself. It brought tears to her eyes. The least he could do was see her, show he was disappointed, angry at what she had done. As a lustrous gel leaked from the holes surrounding the cavity, the Helix closed. It numbed her skin, and her awareness darkened. When she would wake up again, she would gain new knowledge.

The name of her destination was Earth.

# Chapter 2

Gilia

Gilia was not just an exclusive retirement home. They had expensive suites that offered trips to the Caribbean and held private parties. Sometimes the retirees went to their mansion, but they always returned, seeing they would be alone. Gilia kept them connected with the world. And with it, their social life. It championed its reputation for being a prominent, carefree place. But to its workers, it was a living hell.

"Lola?" said the overnight supervisor. "Are you listening? The laundry room needs you." She was searching for her and found her arranging the eating utensils in the kitchen.

"I'm going," Lola said, unable to contain her yawn.

"Stop it."

"It's a reflex."

"You're always yawning."

"And it's also late."

As a Server, Lola's pay was decent, but the labor was slave-driving. They assisted many departments in the kitchen, laundry room, and garden. The higher-ups called them gofers for the slang and because they often looked skittish, digging their noses in every department to do groundwork. Even the custodians had leverage over them.

Gilia would be a mess without its servers, but Bradford saw them as replaceable pieces. The manager's care and focus went to his Attendants. He not only paid them well but gave them free meals, a gym membership, and a higher bonus for the holidays. Lola wanted to become one, but one variable stopped her from trying. Every school harbored a bully, every corporation carried a thief, and every retirement home endured a problematic resident. The one in Gilia stood out like a wild stallion no horse whisperer could tame. Her name was Clarisse Elliot Mable.

Lola learned about her at orientation. Her supervisor always made sure to call her Ms. Clarisse. But she never got the opportunity to try, and she was glad. The cranky old lady was known to attack and demean her Attendants. They also knew her for throwing her plate of food to the gofers. Even nurses would leave her room with scratch marks on their arms. And if anyone gave her the slightest annoyance, they wouldn't return to work. In the break room, they named her a witch, and Suite 97 was her gingerbread house.

Attendants only assisted one resident, but no one could put up with Ms. Clarisse and keep their job. Though Bradford managed Gilia, Lola saw him as Ms. Clarisse's fluffy Pomeranian. He had to rotate them, hoping a fresh face will subdue her. The record-holder who spent the shortest time was Maya. It was her first day, but she could not last five minutes before leaving Suite 97 in tears. They fired her despite her complaints when she refused to return to the gingerbread house.

Many attempted to sue Gilia and the witch, but not one case moved forward. Lola didn't need data or proof to believe status and wealth played a role. Out of all the big-pocket residents, Ms. Clarisse had caves of money. It was a natural assumption that her influence gave her the power to harass the staff and spit at their faces. But Ms. Clarisse hardly left her room. Having no friends to visit, every meal she took was in her suite.

When she first saw the witch, it was in the lobby where a grey-haired chauffeur was escorting her. They chatted like school-aged children, laughing and whispering to one another. Ms. Clarisse walked chest high, with her nose proudly in the air. It left Lola unconvinced. How could a pale, pink-cheeked old lady with short curly hair be as scary as they say? Regardless, she wasn't about to put the rumors to the test. Gilia pampered its residents like they were cows that would produce the best milk for a restaurant bearing a Michelin star. Anyone who couldn't meet their expectations was not Gilia material.

Lola folded every clean sheet in the laundry room, as her supervisor requested. They were short staffed, and sheets needed to stocked on each floor. When the elevator doors to the fourth floor opened, she saw five Attendants huddling among each other, blocking her path. She approached them with a bowed head, pretending to be a passing ghost.

Because an Attendant's job was demanding, they would burn out and scrutinized anyone beneath them. Lola listened as they argued, pointing their fingers at each other. One Attendant thrust his arms around like he was imitating a monkey. Their behavior was unusual, but none of her business. She squeezed past them, successfully avoiding their attention. When a scream detonated from one of the suites, the Attendants didn't flinch. No one shifted their focus from one another. They were too absorbed in their conversation to respond.

"A resident is crying," Lola said.

The bunch looked at her like she was mindless for thinking they were deaf. They gesture their hand to motion her away, but not without warning her she was better off ignoring the weeping woman. Lola moved her cart, hoping the guilt would dissolve when she made a few more steps. But negligence was not just a violation of Gilia's policy, it was inhumane. Another haunting cry amplified, like someone was stabbing a resident repeatedly.

Lola loosened her grip. She ran for the door and pressed the emergency passcode above the handle, unlocking the suite. To avoid breaking one rule, she broke another. Not once did she read the gold plate on the wall. Gilia required all staff to know the name of the resident they were entering. But if she knew whose suite she was walking into, she would have stayed far from it.

The surrounding décor in the suite was a collector's dream. The paintings on the wall could become appraised at high values, as for the vases, a prestigious gallery. The living room displayed a lavish night of the radiant buildings of Los Angeles. The cries resumed through the hall on the right, leading Lola to the source.

The night-light was on, offering no comfort to the woman who fought in her sleep. Her arms wrestled with the blanket as if it animated to strangle her. Lola sat on the side of her bed and gently moved her shoulder. She looked like a harmless child, mumbling through a nightmare she couldn't wake from. Her touch caused the woman's eyes to flicker. The tears that soaked her silk pillow stopped.

"It's okay," Lola whispered. "It was just a bad dream."

A cold slap bounced off the side of her cheek. The surprise brought her to tears. The disturbed maiden in distress scowled and pushed Lola off her bed. The strength stunned her into thinking the resident would leap off her bed and beat her to a pulp.

"Do you know who I am?" she shouted. "Do you?"

The surprise and tingly cheeks started to connect the missing variable. I'm in the gingerbread house, Lola concluded, but she wouldn't dare say that out loud. What she did do was storm out of the bedroom. She slid across the living room, sprinted towards the exit, and leaped out of the door like an Olympic runner to the finish line. The Attendants closed it after her escape. She didn't have to explain the red mold on her cheek. They heard the slap from the hallway. She jabbered at them for not warning her of the monster in the den. The Attendants looked at one another until one of them confessed. They were letting fate decide who will assist Ms. Clarisse with a gamble of striped paper. Lola watched the drawing while she wiped the sweat off her forehead. The lucky ones cheered and waved their lined paper against the loser with the short end. He sighed and dragged his steps like he was walking on death row.

Lola looked at the gold plate of Suite 97. The name she overlooked was imprinted in cursive. Clarisse Elliot Mable. If only she read it earlier. She wouldn't think twice to enter. She would have walked away guilt-free. Her employment with Gilia will be over, and the consequences scared her. What would her husband think? Maya lasted almost five minutes with Ms. Clarisse, she thought I beat her record by mere seconds.

Lola was called to Bradley's office before she clocked out. She slouched against the chair with heavy eyelids that wanted to shut. The overnight shift tired out the reality she was about to lose her job. She hoped he would be quick about it, but Bradley shook his head at the paper he signed and passed for her. The rubbing of his temple was unusual. He wouldn't express mental strain over a resignation letter. Ms. Clarisse could boot an entire department, and Bradley wouldn't deny her wish. He would fire his own mother if she worked here.

"It's not like I was your favorite employee," Lola teased.

"Read it," he said, unable to loosen his hold.

She did, almost jolting from her seat. Her sleep was gone. It was no resignation but an offer, promoting her to a facility caregiver, an Attendant. But the name of her resident dropped her excitement.

"Is this my punishment?" Why should she care for the woman who heartlessly slapped her?

"That is rude." Bradley looked at the watch. "I'll pretend I didn't hear that." Seeing her confusion, he leaned from his seat and explained Ms. Clarisse made the request.

Lola slid the paper back and touched the warm sensation on her cheek. "This is because of last night, isn't it?"

"Did you do something?" He looked at the time again. "Because I don't understand what you're saying." Lola sealed her lips. "Today is my day off, so I don't answer any calls from work. Can you guess what happened? Ms. Clarisse called my wife at 5 a.m., to insist I let you work for her. Please don't ask how she got her number because I'm too afraid to ask. Do you want this promotion or not?"

Lola couldn't answer. Nothing he said sounded tempting or encouraging. But Bradley hinted at her alternative, if she denied the offer, she would be out of a job.

"Don't take it personally, the board will not deny her lawyer's requests. He is a member of The Company Five, you know." It stunned him when she didn't find the name of the organization familiar. "Ms. Clarisse is good business for us. She can hire a team to care for her, but she's here."

It all came down to money and fear, and that disgusted Lola. Fear was something she got for free, and money was something she couldn't afford, not with her husband's drinking habit.

"How about this?" Bradley took the unsigned document and placed it in his drawer. "I'll give you time to think. You're the first request Ms. Clarisse made, but you won't be the last to refuse to work for her."

I live in hell back home, Lola responded in her mind. Now you're asking me to work for the devil. When she left Gilia, she couldn't deny that regardless, someone had to pay the bills. Her husband lost his truck driving job after being caught for the worst thing a driver could do, drink, and drive under the influence. She parked her truck in the driveway. It was a moss green and had dents above the back tire. She leaned her head against her seat, wanting to avoid what kind of woman he brought home. She tried to leave him, but without the support of family or friends, she always returned.

Lola's brown eyes shifted to the white door. At the bottom were markings from the times she kicked the chipped painting, hoping to wake him. He often locked it when she was away, accidentally or intentionally. She stopped kicking when she got used to sleeping in her truck. But she also didn't clean the stain. It reminded her of what she was when she entered that house.

Gilia liberated her from the two-bedroom home and husband. Now her eight hours of freedom would belong to an older version of her husband. Lola thought of her mother, and it brought her to squeeze the steering wheel. For years the bitter words she hollered followed her. Whenever she made a mistake or tried something new, nothing satisfied her. The scenario replayed when she married her husband. Nothing made him happy. Lola raised her head from the steering wheel, finding her eyes in the rearview mirror. Soon she would also hear it from Ms. Clarisse.

"Worthless," she whispered.

# Chapter 3

A Tyrant's Pain

When Bradley's secretary asked if she was excited about her new position. Lola responded with a weak smile, just enough to create the disguise that she was optimistic. She spent the month training for her certification and shadowed several Attendants until Bradley found her ripe.

On her first day, she sported her new uniform, black satin pants with a white polo shirt. On the left was the Gilia logo, a blue thimble flower. The Servers who heard the news shook their heads in solace. Even the overworked nurses shared sympathy for the new Attendant. Lola rubbed her thumb all the way into the kitchen, wishing she wasn't the hot topic. When a server caught her eye, she gave her the resident's breakfast tray. She walked away with a faint smile, leaving Lola envious of her previous position. The tray wasn't heavy, not like the typical order of fluffy eggs and caramelized toast on the side. She opened the silver lid to peek at what they made. It was a glass of water. One of the chefs saw her nosy act and told her their dear Ms. Clarisse didn't eat breakfast.

"She must be urgent to see you," he grinned.

Lola dragged her feet to the fourth floor while imagining the tears she will shed when she becomes the target for the glass of water. What kick does she get out of seeing us cry, anyway? Does she collect them and store them in a jar with her previous victims? Are they vitamins that give her strength? She stopped in front of Suite 97, startled and unprepared for the torment. Her throat tightened, forbidding her from passing the third gulp. The airways wouldn't open until she rang the doorbell. A voice immediately roared from the suite. The stubborn woman did not bother to use the intercom.

"Unfortunately, I'm still alive, so leave me alone!"

Lola swayed side to side, unable to forget the power slap. Her index finger inched towards the intercom button until she pressed it and leaned to the receiver.

"Ms. Clarisse, it's L-Lola, your Attendant." She looked at the tray. "I'm here to bring you a glass of — I mean breakfast." She released the button like it was blazing hot. A lengthy pause followed. Did she hear me? she thought. Do I have to repeat myself? she pondered. She's probably sharpening her knives.

"Come in," said Ms. Clarisse, this time using the intercom.

The door unlocked, but Lola remained grounded.

The janitor who walked by noticed her fidgeting body. He chuckled at the room number. "It's like steak," he breathed. "You can marinate and cook in the hallway all you want. It doesn't matter if you are medium-rare or well done. She will still eat you."

"How is that supposed to help?" Lola peeped.

"Well, you're torturing yourself by delaying the inevitable." The janitor started to walk away, but not without chuckling. "Just let it happen."

"She might as well chew me up like a juicy steak," Lola told the door. It wasn't comforting, but the janitor was right, there was no going back. She gripped the gold doorknob and opened it. Every step she made inside the suite was attentive and with purpose. But her imagination ran wild, thinking Ms. Clarisse was hiding in one of the corners, ready to pounce on her.

She expected the suite would remain dark and gloomy, but it surprised her that Ms. Clarisse allowed the morning sun to brighten up her home. A painting centered in the living room grabbed her attention. A forest surrounded a lifted red cabin with a high ceiling. The contrasting detail of gold smeared the edges of the roof, painted for a morning like this. Her eyes shifted from it to look at the room across the hallway.

"Calm down," Lola whispered under her breath. "No Attendant has died. Not yet." But as she grew close, her heart pounded like the vibrant sensations of an African drum. After setting a shaky foot into her bedroom, she found Ms. Clarisse propped on her bed, cordially dressed for an ordinary morning. One hand rested over the other.

"Good Morning." Ms. Clarisse's soft blend of makeup brought out her blue eyes, and she was not a grain shy of direct eye contact, but it brought Lola to avert her eyes to the floor.

"Good...Morning."

"You're the gal from that night? Lola, is it?"

"Yes."

"You may place my breakfast over there."

Lola obeyed with a stiff spine. One wrong move, and Ms. Clarisse could drink her instead. Once she placed her tray on the side table, she glided back like a ballerina tiptoeing from the villain. She studied her hands for anything that would lead her to a black eye. Her mouth began to dry, and her muscles started to ache. The hardcover books on Ms. Clarisse's bedside table were within her reach. If she flung them, Lola hoped she could dodge them in time. The frail hand moved over her thigh, causing the newbie Attendant to stumble back. Her shoulders squeezed into her chest, ready to brace themselves.

Ms. Clarisse squinted her eyes with suspicion. Her hand resumed and reached for the light-ware resting next to her lap. It chimed with an image of the latest news. Lola didn't see it, so she felt embarrassed for reacting prematurely.

Two minutes have passed.

Now three.

"You can rest your mind, child." Ms. Clarisse focused on the article. She swiped her finger against the lighted screen to read the next page. "I don't plan to storm up on you." A smile grew on the corner of her lips. "Not right now."

That was no comfort in that. Does she fool Attendants into thinking she was a calm old lady until their guard fell? But Lola's familiarity with abuse forced her to stand like a statue. She tried not to blink, just in case something came at her.

"There's no need to dawdle here. You may leave."

The feet that glued to the floor loosened. Isn't she going to slave drive me? she thought.

Ms. Clarisse's blue eyes examined Lola's low-cut loafers. Her attention then rose to the center of her face, where her parted hair hung over her shoulders. Noticing her hesitation, she slightly moved her head from the screen.

"Well, go on!" she hollered.

Lola held her breath and turned back to the enchanting living room, and veered towards the exit. When she shut the door, she stood in disbelief.

I survived somehow, for now.

No one in Gilia expected Lola would return to work after two weeks. Now they whisper what was going on and if the witch had cast a spell on the Attendant. But Lola only saw Ms. Clarisse for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Afterward, her resident would dismiss her like she was a pain to look at. Not once did she need to dodge any plates, books, or knives. What bothered her the most was that her resident would resume her tyrant regime on her day off. It made her wonder what game she was playing. If she wanted to test her, she had to strike her nerves. But there was little room opportunity since they hardly saw each other. Something had to be done that couldn't appear obvious.

It was on the following morning that Lola decided to stay in the kitchen longer than she needed to. She put the tray on the counter and looked at her phone.

"You're going to piss her off," said the chef who saw her idling by.

But that was the goal. Lola walked into Suite 97 fifteen minutes late. When she stepped inside the bedroom, Ms. Clarisse was watching the televisual, a rectangular device replaced the television of 2030. She placed her tray of food on the side-table, thinking her movement would wake up the beast. But nothing happened.

She's ignoring me! Lola thought as she stepped back, stopping at the doorway, hoping she took notice.

And Ms. Clarisse did. "That is all child. Why are you still here?"

"Why —" Lola squeaked and cleared her throat. "Why am I here?"

"Excuse me?" Ms. Clarisse told her televisual to mute. "I have bad hearing. Speak louder."

"Why did you make Bradley promote me?"

The old woman thought about it, blankly finding the floor. "Oh, I didn't know you worked in a different department. They must have promoted you to fit my request." Her eyes locked to her Attendant, and a frown followed after. "But do you really want to know?" Before Lola could utter a sound, Ms. Clarisse answered. "It's because you came into my room that night."

"Just for that?" she asked. "But the Attendants —"

"Nobody," she interrupted. "Nobody enters this room unless I need a nurse, or it's time to eat. I receive better treatment from the janitors than any Attendant. I am aware of the way I treat your co-workers. But I will not pretend to be a nice old lady when I'm not." Ms. Clarisse took her glass of water and sipped it like it was hot coffee. "Why did I choose you, you ask? It wasn't an impulsive decision. I have a reason you see. As of late, I have been suffering from nightmares that forced me out of my sleep. I have woken up screaming only to listen to those neglectful night Attendants. The brutes pretend they're concerned for me, but they're not. How do I know you ask? The intercom showed them standing outside my door, waiting for me to go back to sleep!"

"Why don't you report them?" Lola asked.

"I'm not interested in trying unfamiliar things." Ms. Clarisse tilted her head back. "Of course, I'm sure you heard a different story, didn't you? I bet the rumor is I fire your fellow companions." Ms. Clarisse searched for the truth in Lola's eyes, but her Attendant kept them at the foot of her bed. "Now, why would it be my business to promote inequality in this snobby organization?"

The words couldn't sink. Why would they put their job at risk by neglecting such a powerful woman? An Attendant's job was to be courteous, not heedless, insensitive, and impudent.

"You don't believe me," concluded Ms. Clarisse. "Let me finish answering your question. The night Attendants are not accommodating. What more can you expect from scum? But when I woke up to your sweet voice. You surprised me. I wasn't expecting someone would console me."

Lola couldn't lie. She told her she didn't know the room belonged to her. It made Ms. Clarisse coughed up a laugh. Her throat gargled like she was washing her mouth. It wasn't a pretty sound.

"I must have given you the surprise of your life," she said, wiping her tears. "That night you came into my room, I felt like an actual person when you sat on my bed. You didn't see a fragile, decaying disease."

"No one should see you like that."

"I like your optimism, but you are young. Without money, Gilia would skip my meals, and call me by the name I hear in the halls. At this age, you lose hope for humanity. Seniors my age are mistreated, even by their own family. Age is of no value to the young and midlife."

Ms. Clarisse lived in her suite like it was an island. It took one question, one query, one request for information, and chatted away. The topic changed twice in one minute, from the weather to how comfortable her slippers were. It amused Lola because her words came without restraint.

"I bet your children never get bored with you," Lola slipped after her resident took a sip of her water.

But Ms. Clarisse squinted as if she lost her eyesight. The muscles on her eyebrows stiffened, and her mouth quivered. Perhaps Lola's presence was suffocating her. But the signs of mental pain surfaced on the old woman's face. Instead of venting them, she gulped her thoughts like her water and shifted her eyes to her frail hands.

"You may leave," Ms. Clarisse let out.

Lola walked out but not without feeling disordered. She undeniably struck a nerve, but it was not the reaction she imagined. The disappointment was familiar because her heart pounded the same response. Back in the kitchen, the chef noticed her blank stare and asked if the tyrant lost it. By a miracle, she didn't, but Lola remained disturbed. She shared her mentioning of her children drove Ms. Clarisse to dismiss her.

The chef nodded knowingly and shared a rumor concerning Ms. Clarisse. "Her family cut her off from their lives."

"What do you mean, cut off?"

"You don't know?" The chef took the tray from Lola's hands. "She's been living at Gilia for three years and has not received a single visitor."

For the rest of her shift, Ms. Clarisse did not call her back. That week she hardly said a word when she delivered her meals. But Lola got the message. The mention of her children was a sensitive topic, but she didn't have to take such an offense.

Bradley gave Lola an unexpected call. She could hear the receptionist answering the calls with the same "Happy to take your call," Gilia greeting. It was strange to listen to him walking around the lobby. If it wasn't inspection day, Bradley wouldn't step a foot there. Something bothered him that had to involve Ms. Clarisse.

"They admitted her to the hospital," he said.

The Attendants and their problematic behavior came back. She didn't report them to Bradley, not without proof. Now she found it senseless to tell him without Ms. Clarisse's approval.

"Lola, are you listening?"

"I'm here."

"She doesn't want to see anyone. Every time the doctor or nurse walks in, she threatens to call that lawyer from The Company Five."

Lola understood what Bradley would ask, but she wrestled if she should go. If Ms. Clarisse was misbehaving, what made him think she could work a miracle? Her silence made Bradley uncomfortable. He hung on the line with little patience. He could have threatened to fire her, but he didn't dare. Her job security now rested in Ms. Clarisse's hands. Instead, he offered to pay her a time and a half and hinted at a bonus. But the money didn't move her the slightest, she asked instead for the details of the accident. The manager dismissed her question and warned her not to make any mistakes.

"If a grey-haired man by the name of Mr. Müller pays her a visit. Be on your best behavior, and don't answer any questions related to Gilia. With that, are you coming or what?"

Lola was already searching for her purse in the living room. Like her husband, the house didn't need her, he was always out on her days off. When she stepped out of the house, she threw her purse on the passenger seat. Something made her heart race.

It was anger.

Before she could walk inside Ms. Clarisse's room, a nurse pulled Lola aside to warn her of the danger in the restricted room. She raised her card that identified her as an Attendant from Gilia and asked what happened. The nurse smiled with relief now that help had come.

"Ms. Clarisse tried to get out of bed and fell. She slipped and fractured her wrist and hip." The nurse took the shoulder of the wide-eyed Lola for assurance. "This form of fracture is common for the elderly."

Common for the elderly? Lola repeated in her mind. Accidents like that don't happen in Gilia. The nurse excused herself, leaving her staring at the darkened room. She walked inside, finding Ms. Clarisse less threatening at a hospital than in her expensive suite. She sat beside her bed and watched over her. Her head tilted sideways, facing her with her mouth half-open and with a slight snore. The cast on right arm was stretched out on the bed, brought an ugly ache in her chest. Not a single Attendant came. She knew this because there was no bag of makeup to warm her pale-faced.

The stories of her wrath still echoed in the break room were starting to sound like a myth. Ms. Clarisse could fire anyone, and Bradley would have her back. But a cruel irony was at hand. The meanest senior in Gilia was being mistreated.

"What are you doing here?" Ms. Clarisse woke up before Lola noticed her blue eyes.

"I'm working." She smiled at her tired resident, who kept her frown.

"But you're off today." She pressed her working hand to her forehead. "Wait. Don't tell me, Bradley called you."

Lola hoped her presence would revive her grumpy nature. But Ms. Clarisse preferred the empty wall instead of her wavy-haired attendant. It made Lola spring from her seat and open the curtains to invite the clear skies into the gloomy room. A sparkle from her wedding finger caught her attention. It had a tiny diamond barely held together by a gold band.

"You can go home." Ms. Clarisse tucked her gold ring under her cast. "I'm fine."

She startled Lola, but she didn't walk out. She returned to her seat and gripped her armchair for support.

"I'm staying."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm not leaving."

"And why the hell not?"

"I'm your Attendant." Lola scooted her seat closer to the bed and settled in. "So, let me fulfill my task."

Ms. Clarisse's eyes almost shut, mystified by her reply. She then drew a smile. "Now, I see. There is a little someone under that weak, timid personality of yours." It sounded like a compliment, or so Lola thought, but the old woman shook her head. "I expected you'd be anything but fond of me."

"You haven't given me a reason to dislike you." Lola held her breath before she said it. "But I am still afraid of you,"

Ms. Clarisse chuckled, she not only liked her response, she asked for iced water. Lola took it as a good sign and left to fetch for a nurse. When she returned, her phone was out with her stylus pen in her hand, ready to write her notes.

"What should I bring over from Gilia? I already have your makeup on the list."

"Aren't you an observant one."

Lola froze, hoping to find an explanation for her advance assumption. But Ms. Clarisse dismissed it. She mentioned several items and specifically requested which brand of soft pink lipstick had to be here. Lola scribbled her notes on the delicate film of her phone. She was writing faster than she needed, unable to shake the anger that clung to her back when Bradley called her. A doctor knocked on the wall. He looked startled to find her alive and not lying on the floor like a victim. Ms. Clarisse didn't invite him, but she looked at Lola to see if she would take the initiative.

"Come inside?" Lola didn't know why she was asking, but she felt it was safer because the doctor was hesitating. She crossed her fingers in hopes Ms. Clarisse wouldn't threaten them. But her eyebrows furrowed, and her teeth showed. All she needed to do was bark.

"I thought Mr. Müller was here," stammered the frightened doctor.

"I didn't know he was coming —" Her voice sank when a nurse rolled in a wheelchair.

"His order has arrived. A specialist will come by tomorrow morning for fall prevention and mobility exercises. I also talked with her family doctor." His eyes moved to his patient. "We will treat your inter-trochanteric fracture with a compression hip screw. In the meantime, we should have further examinations to prepare you for surgery —"

"I don't need to prepare for anything." Ms. Clarisse clenched her fist. "Get out — get out!" The doctor lowered his chart and led the tight-lip nurse out of the room.

Lola turned to peer at Ms. Clarisse's cast. She must have landed on her hip after using her arm to catch herself, thus breaking her wrist. The cast on her arm made the overnight Attendants chimed back like a song that was on replay.

"What will you do about those Attendants?" she sparked. "They should have assisted you. They're not doing their job and look where it led you."

"You're upset?" asked Ms. Clarisse.

"Yes." Lola moved the wheelchair out of the entryway and out of Ms. Clarisse's sight. "You need to report them to Bradley."

"I will do no such thing."

"But that will stop them."

"When have I fired anyone?" she defended. "Sure, I'm the reason they quit, but Bradley fires them. He thinks it will make me like him."

"What they're doing is wrong." Lola's rash comments may not have been appropriate. But her anger wasn't glue, it couldn't hold. "Why evade the issue and do nothing?"

Ms. Clarisse could have told her to mind her own business, but the room followed her stillness. Her tear duct glittered, but not a single drop rolled off her cheek. If she was in the past, they were not fond memories.

"Getting those fools fired will not ease my pain," she whispered. "It's because I'm old, and when you're old, nobody cares about you anymore. Nobody prepared me for this age. Now I am robbed of my natural-born rights. My life is no longer the same. It's supposed to shift, not change as it has."

Ms. Clarisse raised the right arm where the cast rested. Her fingers tried to wiggle, but it caused her arm to shake. Her eyes fixated on her wedding ring, and the sight relaxed her wrinkled face. The tiny band swept pounds of stress from her eyes.

"You know, my husband took my last name," she said it, this time, with her ring finger was in the air. "My family made him because he didn't come from our social circle. He was a passionate man. Wanted to prove to the entire world that he was worthy of being my suitor. It took him twenty years to receive the respect my family wouldn't give him."

Lola now understood why the inexpensive ring remained faithfully on her finger. "I'm sorry I looked at it for long."

"It wasn't you that made me hide it." Ms. Clarisse rested her arm. "I was trying to forget."

"Is it related to your children?" Lola found her feet and tapped them. "I haven't apologized for mentioning them."

"Giving birth is a miraculous phenomenon." Ms. Clarisse stared at the ceiling, remembering her pain and screams. "We are reborn. Like a cocoon, we shed all we thought life was about, and become a protector. We birth life and protect it. Think about it! Every person you see walking the streets, taking your order, or making your life miserable. They were nothing until their mother carried and birthed them.

"I gave birth three times, to Troy, Ana, and Ben. When I realized I was getting older, my children had become adults. These delicate hands wrinkled, year after year. Look at me. I'm not fit to be anything anymore, much less their protector." Ms. Clarisse shut her eyes and rubbed her temple. The memories became her stress, and it gave her a headache. But the pain came from within. "When my husband was diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease, he grew weak year after year. By then, Troy ran the company, Ana married, and Ben's lifestyle turned out of control. If I saw them, they would argue over the ripple effect that would occur in the company if their father died.

"We did not receive a single visitor in his last moments. A dying man disgusted them, so they ignored my pleas to visit him. My husband swore their promised inheritance bewitched them. But he still hoped he would see them enter his room, but it died with him. Losing him made me miserable. I no longer found joy and could not stand an empty house. I thought I would live with Troy. He saw my uneasiness after his father's passing and expressed his concerns." Ms. Clarisse's voice darkened. Disappointment trailed along the heavy lines of her face. "But Troy brought me to Gilia, promising he would visit to celebrate family birthdays. Ana and Ben agreed on the idea. I was hesitant, but it sounded all right since it's been years since our family agreed. But no one came. Ana's marriage grew dysfunctional, so I stopped hearing from her. My youngest son didn't know Gilia's address. When I called him and asked him to visit me, he stopped answering my calls. I waited three years for those family birthdays, and still..."

Ms. Clarisse fell silent. She blinked away the moisture that lined underneath her eyelids. Lola believed it was her turn to speak, but she was unsure of what to say. Her relationship with her mother was not just different, it molded who she was. Someone who afraid to stand out, afraid to appear useless, afraid to be called worthless. As she was about to murmur some words to her resident, her holler stopped her.

"No one visits me!"

Lola almost jumped. She turned back towards the doorway. The nurses were asking if she was okay. She guaranteed she was fine with tears in her eyes and closed the door for privacy's sake.

"They treat me like an abandoned dog in a pound, waiting for the owner to return. Did I spoil them that bad? Would there be a difference if I disciplined them? Thinking about it makes me angry. It makes me hate my children!"

"You're not alone," uttered Lola.

Ms. Clarisse laughed, unaware of how sensitive her visitor was becoming. "Oh, I know most of the folks in Gilia have the same history as me. But they cope with it. They befriend one another and move on, but I refuse!"

Like a boxer ready for a match, she tightened her working fist and started to beat her chest. A hollow sound followed with each pound. Lola begged her to stop, but to no avail, Ms. Clarisse continued.

"Every year, I call them like a stupid woman hoping they would change."

Her words constricted Lola's throat, unable to hold the pressure building under her uvula. It pushed her to the brink of tears. She took the working hand of her resident to keep her from landing another blow. The shaking old woman forced her hand away until she noticed Lola's tears.

"Child," she said. "Don't cry. If my words upset you that much —"

"It's my mom."

Lola smudged the salted water from her cheek and laughed at herself for crying. Ms. Clarisse's confession tugged at her role in her family, eroding her definition of a mother. Being called worthless always felt like a nickname to her. She thought it was a joke when she was a child until she could no longer pretend. She wiped her tears in hopes the moisture would evaporate before she had to explain.

"Your children ignored you, but you haven't called it quits. Against all the odds, you hope they will come around. My mother was not that kind of person. She was no embodiment of something so noble."

"Stop crying and explain yourself."

"There isn't much to explain," Lola smiled. "Your words alone confirm it. But now that I know the truth, I can't help but cry."

"Truth. What truth?"

"My mother never loved me." Lola closed her eyes, hoping it would bring her peace. "I know it more now than ever before." She wept beside her bed and covered her face on the mattress to keep her resident from looking.

Ms. Clarisse said nothing. But her clenched fist that shook in anger softened. When Lola felt her hand gently smooth out her hair, her sobs paused. What she felt was what she had seen in movies and firsthand in public. A mother lovingly brushing her daughter's locks with a delicate motion. The repetitive motion made her exhale until her shudders stopped altogether.

When Ms. Clarisse returned to Gilia, the staff were anxious because she resumed her old role. This time, she was the witch in wheels. It roused the staff when they saw her speed through the hallway, not minding the Servers who walked by.

Because of the accident, Ms. Clarisse and Lola didn't need to hide the chips on their shoulders. The resident's caring side came out of hiding while the Attendant no longer trembled in Suite 97. But to help her feel less lonely, Lola encouraged her resident to build friendships with her neighbors. But Ms. Clarisse didn't like the idea, she wouldn't dare, her relationship with her children was scandalous news.

"I just want to find an honest person I could trust and confide in without reproach." When Lola asked her where she could find that person, Ms. Clarisse chuckled. "I already found you."

# Chapter 4

The Old Saying

March 14, 2050

Ms. Clarisse wore two sets of eyes, Lola was sure of it. The first sagged when she felt tired or nostalgic. It was when she haunted the hallway in her wheelchair, staring at her hands, and not at what lies ahead. Next were her frightening eyes. They would always beam at the staff like a hawk. But tired or hawk-eyed, Lola felt the pair had learned to coexist.

During lunch, Ms. Clarisse liked to display her family photos in the living room. Ms. Clarisse was a collector who neatly stored them in her light-ware accordingly to create a timeline of memories. As it projected the images, Lola listened to Ms. Clarisse described in detail everything that happened. From the dress she wore, the weather they had, to the brand of perfume she sprayed. On album, named Milestones, had potty training attempts to having lost the first baby tooth.

The next image that was projected revealed the red cabin from the painting in the living room. But the one from the album had the yard decorated with a swing set, sandbox. Lola pointed at the painting, causing Ms. Clarisse to look at it. A high peak ceiling slanted the roof where the running windows on the second floor displayed the expansive view of the forest.

"That is the Ponderosa." The cabin's name came from the local Ponderosa trees that surrounded the property. The Mables purchased the land before the forest underwent its first wave of deforestation. Instead of turning it into a textile business, they left their 20 acres of land so the natural order could surround their cabin. "My family has been passing that cabin from mother to daughter. I used to spend my summers there as a child and up to my teens. Austin and I loved to bring out children on the holidays and cozy up by the fireplace." She described the hot weather in the summer and the cool breeze that numbed many cheeks on the elevated balcony. "It's a pity my cabin is not in California. She's in the middle of the Okanogan-Wenatchee Forest in Washington State."

Many more photos followed, carrying stories of what went on that day, what occurred that year. In one photo, a young Ms. Clarisse posed for the camera. Her grey hair was a dark blonde. Her wrinkles were nonexistent, and her love for makeup was still there. Her blue eyes were kind and soft, not tired or hawk-eyed. Lola had not seen a gentler smile in person.

She wished she could see it now, but it had become a frozen moment.

The day before her birthday, Ms. Clarisse was less talkative. She anxiously rolled her wheelchair down the halls of her suite until she asked Lola to stay while she made a few calls. Ms. Clarisse owned a custom phone from the Radius Company. For the cost of the average year's salary, they made it look like a necklace with a round silver knob. She pressed on the dial symbol, unlocking a holographic film that opened the contact list.

Lola wanted her to give up, but she watched as Ms. Clarisse dialed the number with Troy's name hovering above. After a few rings, nobody answered. Every attempt went straight to voicemail. Fearing they changed their personal number, she went to Plan B and called their permanent residence. When the same monotone ringing stopped. Ms. Clarisse held her phone against her ear with a tremble until her voice turned into disappointment.

A maid answered.

"Please inform Troy his mother is calling," Ms. Clarisse pressed her lips together and waited. "Very well. I will be having a family dinner in my suite tomorrow for my birthday. Tell him I would love to see the family." Ms. Clarisse cleared her throat and calmly dialed Ana's number and Ben's. Messages were left, but nobody returned her call.

The saddened resident inspired Lola not to call it quits. She asked Bradley to help her get in contact with her children. It didn't matter if she had to leave the state to meet them. She would cross the oceans for her. But Bradley looked away as if it would make him sick. Hearing him say it also made her guts churn.

"Her children live here in Los Angeles."

When Ms. Clarisse took a nap, Lola traced her thumb over the expensive Radius device. She should have left it on the bedside table, but she took it to the living room. It upset her for thinking the Mable children couldn't visit their mother because they lived out of state. Now she felt ashamed for thinking for the defense of people who might have no soul. She pressed on the dial, opened the contact list, and highlighted Troy's name. But she called in vain. A maid answered and directed that she leave a name and message. But like Ms. Clarisse, Lola was executing Plan C.

"Worthless!" she hollered, hoping it matched the same tone as her hateful mother, and inconsiderate as her husband.

"Excuse me?" the insulted maid replied. "This is Ms. Clarisse, is it not?"

"I will not give my name to a mere house worker." She pinched her arm to calm herself. "But when I tell your boss how you waste The Company Five's time, darting me your moronic questions, this will be the last call you will answer. Did you hear me!"

"Ma'am."

"I can't believe this," Lola forced a gasp. "Do you even know who The Company Five is?" She tried to imitate Bradley's surprise when she didn't know herself.

The maid didn't answer this time. A pause followed until she got her way. The act of intimidation worked for all the workers of the Mable children. When she heard their voices, Lola calmly passed the warm invitation, almost singing the private event and appetizing dinner. Ana, Troy, and Ben shared a genuine interest and excitement to go. Lola could not contain her joy that day. She hummed and almost danced around a confused but well rested Ms. Clarisse.

At last, a reunion was underway.

The staff was nervous inside Suite 97. But they decorated the table with fine linen and adorned the dining room with vases of California Gilia, one of the many blue flowers of the Gilia genus. Four servers stood by, ready to serve their guests in black pants, white dress shirts, and a bowtie. The chef who liked to see if Lola survived another day stood out with his white toque hat. He arranged the fresh edible pieces on the plates and gave them his last touch. A pleasant aroma of the main course filled the dining room. On the corner was a mini salad bar, a cart of fresh fruits, and in the middle, a three-tier creamed cake. Lola proudly curled her wavy hair to blend with Ms. Clarisse's special day. She whistled her way to her bedroom, announcing it was time for her party.

Ms. Clarisse turned from her mirror, dressed in a dazzling red crochet dress. "Is it too much for the occasion?"

"It's the right amount." Lola wished her a happy birthday and presented her gift. She was told she was not obliged to get anything. But she had to after discovering she liked embroidered clothing. She withheld, however, mentioning the trouble she went into finding a high-end scarf at Melrose Avenue in West Hollywood.

"Thank you, child."

"Come on," Lola smiled, opening the door for her. "Your party awaits."

Ms. Clarisse rolled her wheelchair out of her room. The staff that lined up and bowed before returning to their positions. She waited for her guests in the living room while listening to soft jazz.

She waited for two hours.

She called.

No one arrived.

No one called back.

The light-hearted and hopeful, Ms. Clarisse turned into a disenchanted woman. The empty room didn't move the staff, not like Lola. Troy, Ana, and Ben were sure about attending, she thought. Now I'm beginning to think they were lying to hang up with me. She walked out of Suite 97, hoping to find them with a reasonable excuse. The hallway was almost vacant until a resident left his room for a stroll with his Attendant. When she returned, she wished she didn't come back empty handed.

"I would like to be alone." Ms. Clarisse looked at her delicate hands.

"But you haven't eaten dinner." Lola intervened, stopping her from wheeling back to her bedroom. She didn't want her defeated eyes to ruin her special day. She wanted to see her hawk eyes, not the sad ones, anything but that.

Ms. Clarisse's strength broke, her hands covered her face, and she started to sob. Lola's tears surfaced. She moved from the hallway and went to dismiss the staff. For her resident's sake, the food and the decorations had to stay. As she shut the door, Ms. Clarisse's cry roared like the night she slapped her. The chef and servers stood there for a while, unsure if they got the green light to leave. Their blank stares annoyed Lola, so she asked them where their compassion was.

"Don't look so sad." The chef dismissed the staff but stayed behind. "We set up Ms. Clarisse's birthday dinner every year. We knew nobody would come."

Lola couldn't have known because she worked overnight. Now her own heart ached, realizing Mr. Clarisse's birthday was just another reminder of her desertion. She waited outside her suite for support, listening to the cries in the living room. The resident who was on his stroll stopped and looked at the confused Attendant.

"The old saying is this," he said, grumbling with faint steps. "We bring our children into this world and lose them before we hit our graves." He looked at her and raised his trembling index finger. "It happens to all of us, and it will even happen to you."

His words made her stomach muscles push against her organs. She ran to the nearby restroom and vomited. She thought the nausea she felt earlier came from the scented flowers mixing with the aroma of seasoned poultry. Before going home, she bought three tests and hid them inside her purse. The house was booming with yet another party. The living room was a crowd of laughter, the counters had bottles of alcohol, and on the corner tables were lines of cocaine. As Lola brushed through the men and women, nobody acknowledged her. If they did, her husband would roar jealous accusations.

She locked the bathroom door, pressed her chapped lips together, and read the instructions on the box. She went over the directions three times for accuracy's sake. She felt silly when she unwrapped her first sample because her intrauterine contraceptive device was 99% effective. But while she waited, she tapped her finger against the sink, countering the bass that trembled her walls. Within three minutes, her confidence and poise crumbled by a haunting figure in the slot. It made the words of the privileged old man in Gilia relapsed.

Lola implored, talked to the device to turn negative. But the positive symbol returned, twisting her insides. It brought her back the night her husband forced himself on her. He didn't do it often. With his girlfriends around, once or twice a year was a regular occurrence. But since she started working for Ms. Clarisse, she didn't feel worthless, and she would smile more. She didn't know the slight change bothered him. But he was possessive kind, always wanting to be in control. He couldn't bear to think there was someone else. So, he reminded her she would always be his.

After the third test, Lola's in denial sobered. The one thing she wanted to avoid, blasted in her mind until her mouth set it free.

"Pregnant."

# Chapter 5

Aching Pride

May 23, 2050

Rubbing one thumb over the other was a habit Lola couldn't grow from. The tendency happened so often she hardly noticed when she was doing it. The habit was born in elementary when she missed her bus to school and had to wake up her mother and ask for a ride. She shrieked her ear off until she was left at the parent drop-off zone. Now the thumb rubbing persisted in the living room. Her husband had yet to come out of his bedroom. He was getting ready to leave for a night in town, but when she told him the news, he brought a beer from the fridge instead of his keys.

"The friends, parties, and drinking have to end," she told him.

Her husband laughed at her idea and proposed they put the baby up for adoption. But Lola refused. Their argument worsened while the entire neighborhood slept. One voice towered over the other until the sun was rising on garbage day. Lola trembled as she watched her husband open another bottle. By then, the only noise that joined them came from the automated garbage trucks that pulled in the neighborhood. His last option for her was abortion.

"I won't repeat her mistakes."

"You still think of your mom after all the shit she put you through?" He knew Lola survived the same fate by a gamble her mother took on her. But he didn't care about her feelings, he found her pathetic for not letting things go.

"I don't have the heart to put our child for adoption, and there's no way I will get an abortion."

"You don't have a choice."

"Yes, I do."

"I said that you don't!" He gripped the bottle. In his mind, he did nothing wrong. Everything he did was Lola's fault.

The garbage truck stopped at their home. The drones that hovered over the cans and lifted them into packing blade muted Lola's screams. Her husband gripped her sleeves and dragged her from the living room to the front door. He pushed her to the doorstep and flung the bottles he found lying on the porch.

"Don't come back until you did it," he spat at the ground.

"My keys," Lola implored, holding the torn fabric in place to cover her bra strap. "And I need my purse." But he shut the door, leaving her at the stairs.

The sun glittered on the droplets of moist grass that gathered overnight. Lola wiped her watery eyes and looked at her dented truck. She never locked it her truck because it prepared her for moments like these. Her spare key was behind the driver's seat, hidden in a pair of jeans with a broken zipper. As she turned her truck on, it grumbled. She looked at the mark her footprints left on the door. Though it had no voice, it betrayed her. It took her husband's side and called her worthless. When she pulled out of the driveway, she swore she would never return.

When Ms. Clarisse made frequent visits to her doctor, Lola prolonged the news of her pregnancy. At fourteen weeks, she was afraid of being assigned to office work. But concealing her secret was not a simple task. Her morning sickness came strong and raise Ms. Clarisse's curiosity. Whenever she returned from her bathroom, Lola resorted to lying, telling her she was recovering from food poisoning. But it did not excuse the paleness in her face. Ms. Clarisse muttered her focus back to her light-ware, but not without asking Lola to open a bottle of wine. She never drank, so Lola felt inclined to ask for her sudden craving for alcohol.

"I'm in the mood for it," she said. "Pour me a glass."

The hawk eyes of Ms. Clarisse studied her while she drank the refreshing taste. When she asked for another, she invited Lola to join her. But she did not pour a glass for herself. Instead, she reminded her she was on the clock. Ms. Clarisse took a sip with raised eyebrows, surprised, or more suspicious by her swift reply.

"Oh, don't be a sourpuss." She raised her glass for her to take. "Come. Have a taste."

"I can't drink — I will lose my job," persisted Lola.

"You mustn't worry. Bradley already knows." She took the drink, almost gulping it empty. "I gave him a little money and told him you would drink with me. Greed. It runs deeper than any vein could in the human body."

"I'm allergic to grapes."

"You...Allergic?" chuckled Ms. Clarisse. The wine got to her head. "Allergies to grapes!" She hollered and cackled.

"Okay...I think it's time to put the cork back on the bottle."

"I do believe I offered you fruit salad this morning, and you particularly enjoyed the grapes!" She slammed the empty glass on the end table, tired of practicing her patience. "You are hiding something. I know what it is, but I want to hear it from your mouth."

"I'm not hiding anything."

"Fine." Ms. Clarisse rubbed her pink lips against one another. "If you can't trust me, we can no longer be friends." She gripped her armrest and used the controls to turn her wheelchair from Lola like she had become an unpleasant scent. "Since I won't be needing you anymore. I'll have Bradley fire you."

"What trust is there when you're threatening me? That is not what friends do!" Lola chased after the laughing Ms. Clarisse, who sped her wheelchair through the corridor and to her bedroom.

"How many months?" Her cheeks were already pink from two glasses of wine. "Lola, are you listening?"

"Three months and a half."

"Congratulations," she replied like she always knew. "But how did your husband react?"

When Lola could no longer hide the bruises on her body, she told her who left them. She feared Ms. Clarisse would lose respect for her or laugh at her weakness. Instead, she told her she was old enough to know the difference between good and bad apples. Lola swore she wouldn't cry anymore, but the worry in Ms. Clarisse pulled them out. Her smile stayed warm while she waited for her to calm her nerves.

"He wants an abortion."

"That sick monster." Ms. Clarisse shook her head. "How do you still go home to that?"

"I'm not allowed to return until I go through the procedure." For Ms. Clarisse's sake, she did not share the beer bottle he flung at her before he hauled outside, much less the second bottle she blocked from hitting her stomach.

"Come, have a seat," said Ms. Clarisse, who moved her wheelchair towards the chair. After Lola sat, she raised her delicate fingers and pressed them on her forehead. Her eyes softened when she told her she was stupid for not telling her sooner.

"You have to respect my privacy as much as I respect yours," eyed Lola. Ms. Clarisse moved back as if she didn't know what she was talking about. "Every time your family doctor comes by, you send me on an errand. And no concern of mine has convinced you to tell me what you have."

"Fair enough," she replied. "But abusive relationships exist because of privacy. You are pregnant, for goodness' sake. Why are you so committed to such a blockhead?"

Lola glanced at her hands. Fifty percent of her mother's genetic makeup made it, and the other was fifty percent of her father's. She would have had older siblings if her mother didn't abort them. But the men she wanted to be with did not stay because of it, so she didn't need them. Lola, however, was spared out of convenience, and out of spite for her biological father.

"I'm going to share something you probably don't know about yourself." Ms. Clarise reached for her hand. Her soft, frail fingers pressed hers for support. "I thought you were a fragile woman who focused on her own downfall. Now I see it was not pessimism. Your mother and husband enslaved you to give away your power of control. You can't talk about it because that heart of yours has fused shut, and you no longer know how to open it. I may have lost my children, but I have never let anyone tell me how I should think or feel. You'll live a miserable life if you let others do the same."

Lola unfolded their hold and stepped away. Her arms folded to barricade what Ms. Clarisse would think after this.

"There was never any romance between us." She walked to the mirror to look at her stomach. It wasn't noticeable, but she knew her child was there. "He was a friend from school who offered a place to stay when my mother kicked me out. We lived with his parents, and I worked hard to help pay for any expenses. After the first year, his parents persuaded us to marry. They introduced the idea after his extended family found it was unorthodox that I lived with them as a friend and not as a potential wife. I thought I liked him that way. So, I convinced myself that our relationship could be a romantic one.

"But there was no wedding dress or a honeymoon. I went straight to work after we signed our name on the marriage certificate. I identified love by how useful I could be. I remained loyal, after his addiction, his unfaithfulness, and the first slap. I stayed because I didn't want to become like my mother." Lola's disturbing confession kept her focused on her own reflection, unwilling to look at Ms. Clarisse. "I'm sorry. If you see me in a different light now, I don't blame you for not wanting me to work for you —"

"Listen to yourself," said Ms. Clarisse. "Did they pressurize you like a can in a factory and labeled you to act and behave how they see fit? Things have changed. The life inside you depends on you. But you must decide if you're going to continue being useful or be your own woman."

Lola would have believed those words a week ago, but not when her in-laws contacted her. She shared they wanted her to stay with them.

"They promised he would change his mind."

"Don't you dare fall for it." Ms. Clarisse didn't like the sound. "Don't you dare let him pressure you to go through the abortion —"

"I won't kill my little one!" The muscles around Lola's throat tightened. She covered her mouth and apologized for raising her voice. But the muscles in Ms. Clarisse's face did not budge. Her strong character ignored her personal feelings. "Public assistance." Lola pointed at herself, thinking her resident would forget who she was referring to. "That is the reason I exist. My mother didn't want me — she wanted to hurt my father and survive. My in-laws said it was perfect timing and that I should apply for it. I was so disgusted by what they said I couldn't hold my breakfast."

"You will not like my words," warned Ms. Clarisse. "But your pride and your resentment towards your mother will lead your baby to starve. How can you think you will become like her when you stood up to your husband? But you can't be stupid about your situation. An adult can skip a meal or two, but should your child?"

Lola couldn't deny that Ms. Clarisse was right. Her wages alone would barely get her by with a studio. Los Angeles would devour her money before she could take a bite to eat.

"This ring." Ms. Clarisse held up the tiny rock for her to see. "One of the most successful people I know got help, my Austin."

Lola dragged her feet back to her seat and squeezed Ms. Clarisse's hands. But the tremble worried her.

"What is it? What else are you hiding?"

"A vehicle has been following me for the last two days." Lola lifted her eyes, seeing the worry in the woman's blue eyes. "If I disappear..."

"Humph. What money does your husband have to pay someone to stalk you?" Ms. Clarisse promised a police report, and a restraining order was all she needed to keep herself safe. "Mr. Müller is a dear old friend of mine. He can represent you in court."

"My husband's substance abuse is what makes his behavior reckless. No police report, judge, or restraining order will intimidate him. Not when he's under the influence."

"Then you need to leave."

"Where will I go?"

Ms. Clarisse grinned at the clueless Lola. She was aware of her curiosity with the painting in her living room. She liked the way her Attendant tilted her head and lost herself in the warm colors that depicted her cabin.

"Stay in the Ponderosa."

Lola moved her hands away and crossed her arms in defiance. "Ms. Clarisse, I can't leave to a state I don't know."

"If you can't imagine leaving California, your husband will think the same."

"I'm sorry, but I can't." She hoped Ms. Clarisse would respect her decision, but she brought back her proposal the following day. It ended with one-hour debates, where the topic became Reasons to Leave California.

But any state but California sounded like a foreign country. To get there, Lola had to drive through Oregon or cut through Nevada. She pleaded not to force her to think about it, pledging she didn't need it. Ms. Clarisse was not happy, but she didn't know how much her Attendant loved her.

Lola stayed because she didn't want to leave her in Gilia.

May 30, 2050

Among the quiet night and busy roads was a calming purr. It came from a tuxedo kitten who slept on the passenger seat, and her name was Kinoki. The feline was often sighted walking around her job site, alone, motherless, and worse, unsupervised. She would often prance around the parking lot and scavenge around the trash compactor. The little ball of fur would dash into any bush if she caught sight of humans. Bradley did not like the stray because she claimed his five-star residential home as her own. Many animal control agencies tried to capture her, but Kinoki was too small and agile for them. Lola's co-workers found her fluffy appearance cute, but she found her to be a nuisance.

When Kinoki became domesticated, it took no effort for Lola to win her trust. Her shift ended when she caught the hairball frisking behind her truck. Lola assumed she would scurry off as usual, but she observed the human. Kinoki didn't like two-legged creatures, so she reminded her by stomping her foot on the asphalt. But she didn't flinch. The cat's buttery eyes gazed at her, searching inside the premises of her soul.

Lola tried to hold back her smile. The white fur at her chest looks like a bib, and her white paws look like little socks. When her heart surrendered, Kinoki sensed her defeat and cried out to her. The closer she got, the lower she bent her knees, lifting the stray from the ground.

"I hope you like trucks," she told her. "Because that's all that I got to offer."

The prices at hotels, motels, and hostels rose like leavened bread on the weekends, so Lola spent another night in her truck. She parked on an abandoned lot no tourist or resident would step in. The homeless men and women also claimed the area. They set a line of tents in front of an abandoned retail building like they were waiting for a sale on Black Friday. They never bothered Lola, seeing she was a newbie. She sat in the driver's seat, listening to Brian Crain's Song for Sienna. As soon as the piece started, she felt a brush of grief. A minute later, she felt hope and serenity. The song made her tap on the bottom of the driver's seat to make sure the duct tape secured her leather pouch. What was once her savings for piano lessons became her necessities for food and shelter. Now the bulge of her bills was flattening.

The stars could not be counted in the city. She crossed her arms and nestled her face underneath her blanket. The last time she spent the night in the truck, Ms. Clarisse noticed her constant back rub. She told her she slept on the wrong side of the bed to steer her suspicion away. Her health and children were enough burdens on her shoulders. Her eyes closed to pretend the hard clumps of her seat were soft cotton balls. But the grim babble of a homeless man forced her eyes open. She watched his sluggish walk. His shoulders hung as he pushed forward cart with a missing wheel.

Kinoki still purred in the passenger seat, bringing her to shut her eyes once more. Sleep started to gloss over while Song for Sienna reached its rising pace. She pressed her hands over her stomach, hoping one day she could play for her unborn child. But a slam on the windshield shook her hopes, shaking her from her seat. At first glance, she mistook him for a stranger hiding his face under a hoodie until a familiar command returned.

"Open the door."

Lola's hand mechanically hovered over the door handle. But she stopped, and her hesitation made him laugh. Now she knew why he didn't come for her in Gilia. He was waiting for her to be alone.

"Open the door," he ordered. His bottom lip sagged as his breath fogged up the window.

From the rearview mirror, a vehicle was parked behind her. Three men came out and huddled around her truck with crossed arms.

"L-leave," stammered Lola.

"Open the door," he repeated. "It's time to stop playing games and come back home, where you belong."

"You threw me out." She couldn't meet his glossy eyes. Instead, she looked for the homeless man and his cart. But he left the block.

"You must feel brave to sleep in your truck like all the other failures in the city." His elbows leaned by the window. "Did you forget I took you in when your mother left you out on the streets?"

"I did not forget." She shifted her focus to Kinoki, who sat wide awake. Her dilated pupils examined the scary man with the scruffy facial hair.

"Look at you. Clinging on the steering wheel as if it can save you, but you're not worth saving." He tapped on the window. "You're not worth taking a bullet for. Only I will ever give a shit about you."

Lola's grip on the steering wheel was smudged, sliding from her sweaty palms. Her heart pulsed with enough adrenaline to run until sunrise, but it was futile to fight him on her own. She released her hold on the steering wheel, allowing her hands to fall on her thighs.

"If you care about the brat in your belly, do the smart thing and open the door." Her husband resumed his tap against the window. "I'm going to walk to the passenger side, and we will drive home. Does your little mind understand that much?"

His friends chuckled by the way he mocked her, making her feel like she had no brain. Lola dropped her head against the steering wheel. Just what made her think she could leave? There was nothing she could give her child, not a home, and no food to serve on the table. She was just a dreaming fool, she worried Ms. Clarisse for nothing.

Her husband walked around while tapping a finger against the bed of her truck. His friends returned to the vehicle that stalked her from the women's shelter. Now the worst was yet to come. He would resume his drinking habit and list every mistake she made. Her life was waiting to go back to the petty fights, cheap women, and the smell of liquor.

Why am I here? She asked again as Brian Crain's song ended. Lola hoped the moment of silence would give her clarity. Ms. Clarisse said I will decide when it's time, but I haven't done it yet, haven't I? She slammed her hands against the steering wheel. Why am I here!? Her husband muttered when the passenger door wouldn't open. She hadn't unlocked it, because she was still searching for an answer. Her eyes dropped to the bulge that surfaced in front of the steering wheel.

"My life," she uttered for Kinoki. "It's repeating itself."

When she was in middle school, she eavesdropped on her mother, who often chatted with her neighbor for hours. It was there when she learned that her biological father wanted sole custodial rights after she was born. It baffled her then because he had never met her, seen her. Why would he care? She then looked at her husband and the swearwords he hurled for the door being locked. The answer she looked for was glaring at her. She may have been kicked from her mother's house at the age of eighteen, but she had not left her. She got a replacement.

"Lola, open the door!" her husband shouted. His fists slammed against the passenger's window. His teeth gritted with rage.

The courage Ms. Clarisse saw inside Lola calmed her shaking arms. She looked at her husband's fuming eyes, where for six years he held authority over her. She turned the keys and ignited the rattling engine. The transmission blared, and invited the built-up anger in her husband. The passenger window cracked by the force of his fist. The second punch went through and shattered the glass. Kinoki jumped under the seat as his bleeding fist reached for the lock.

After a click, the door swung open.

Lola stepped on the gas, forcing her husband to hold on to the seat. He shook in anger, hollering that he would kill her, but he was not entirely inside to try. His legs banged and scraped against the asphalt while she steered left to swing him away. After he secured his grip on the seat, he crawled into the passenger seat. The hand that broke the passenger window dripped from the knuckles and gripped her t-shirt. He yanked her down, but she resisted, slamming on the breaks. With no seatbelt to secure him, he thumped against the dashboard and groaned. It was too late for her to push him off, not with his friends following behind.

Lola sped up, hoping another sharp turn would knock him off, but her husband recovered. He snarled as he launched his fist at her, but the swing missed her face. The sedan following behind sped ahead, blocking her from the main road, almost crashing into her when she got near the busy street. She was forced to drive erratically, waking up the sleepers from their tents. Lola begged her husband to let her go, reminding him that their marriage was a lie, forced on them by his parents.

"You're not going anywhere!" His hand gripped her neck and tugged her down to his face for a second time. The odor of distilled spirits swept into her nostrils, agitating her stomach. His eyes burned, and his breath stung her eyes. His free hand reached for his back pocket, rustling for something sharp. "I'm going to cut your stomach and rip the brat out of you!"

Lola's muscles responded before her mind could calculate the risk. She held tight on the steering wheel, and the engine roared towards the congested intersection. She steered them out of the parking lot and through the rugged field. With one hand stuck in his pocket, her husband's secure grip was turning sweaty. When Lola veered through the traffic, she joined the intersection, forcing the sedan to stop following. The cars engulfing the street screeched and honked at the erratic gas dependent truck. Among the deafening sounds, she took the sharpest left her truck could bear. The wheels on the right steadied the weight, raising the left wheels from the asphalt. The velocity flung her husband from his grip. He tumbled against the road and slammed his fist on the pavement, howling her name.

Lola re-settle to the right side of the road and sped for the highway. The wind tousled her hair, scattering the shards of glass from the passenger window. The adrenaline still circulated through her veins, not knowing when to relax. The courage she didn't believe existed had come out of its suppression.

Ms. Clarisse was right, it was there the entire time.

Lola stayed far from Los Angeles until the news of the unnamed reckless driver grew cold. She returned to Gilia broke, hungry, and drained. When Ms. Clarisse took one look at her, she demanded that she shower and order food. Lola appreciated the offer, her back ached the most, and Kinoki grew to hate her truck.

"I need to talk to Bradley for not coming in for work," she said while untangling her damp hair. "Wish me luck."

"I already took care of him." Her hawk eyes were reserved for her. "Stupid."

"What?"

"Stupid, stupid, stupid." Ms. Clarisse resorted to name-calling whenever she was in her view and reminded her she could have paid for her hotel expenses. But Lola didn't care how often she heard her scold. She was glad to be back.

After a much-needed meal, Lola sat by her bed and settled her head on the mattress, not realizing she would miss the potpourri scent in her room. The sweet mixture of dried petals helped her eyes close. Ms. Clarisse gently combed her hair, calling her stupid once again.

"What did I say?" she scolded. "You will not make it without asking for help!"

"Ms. Clarisse," she moaned. Her thundering voice made her headache throb.

"You're lucky the police haven't linked the accident with your truck. You just had to go about sleeping in parking lots, didn't you? And that cat you brought into my home. You shouldn't be keeping that furball!"

"Ms. Clarisse," Lola muffled. Her lips were against the mattress.

"Now, you tell me you almost killed your husband! Which you should have run over. I don't know why you didn't, I would have, Repeatedly!"

"Can I speak now?" She lifted her pounding head. Ms. Clarisse swallowed the list of words she wanted to say and but warned her more was in store. "This last week humbled me to the bone. I said I didn't need help because I held on to a distorted view my mother put on me. I need help, and if I must apply for assistance, I will. But after what happened with my husband, I know he won't let it go because he's the vengeful kind. If your offer is still open, I will move to Washington State and rent your cherished cabin. But only until I can get back on my feet."

The frustration in Ms. Clarisse softened her eyebrows, and her eyes glittered. She gave Lola such a smile that she had to blink, thinking she was looking at her younger self from the family portraits. But there was one ultimatum she hoped she would agree.

"Can I stay until you meet my baby?"

Ms. Clarisse didn't answer a yes or no. Instead, she turned on her light-ware to resume the list of baby names they compiled.

"What we should really focus on is your baby's name."

Lola didn't like that she wasn't given an answer, but she went along until they decided on two names. One for a baby girl and one for a baby boy. When she noticed Ms. Clarisse's fingers started tapping on the light-ware, she lost her in her private thoughts.

"I can't sit well, knowing how long you slept in that awful truck." She held her phone for a quick call. When the line answered, she moved her phone to her ear. "Mr. Müller, this is an emergency. Please prepare a hotel for a special guest."

When Lola was five months pregnant, Ms. Clarisse called her beer-belly. The nickname stuck even after her health worsened. No stage of cancer could stop her from name-calling, not until she passed away. The doctors said it was her age, but she believed there was more to tell.

Click here to listen to Brian Crain's Song for Sienna and watch my improvisation artwork of Lola and Kinoki.

# Chapter 6

Smiling Benjamin

August 12, 2050

After her shift at Gilia, Lola took the same road to the luxury hotel in central Los Angeles. She never went grocery shopping, not when she could order room service. If her truck needed gas, she wouldn't fill it up unless it was on a busy day. The more people there were, the safer she felt. Ms. Clarisse reserved her room on the highest floor, promising it would help her sleep at night, and she was not wrong. Bradley somehow caught wind that Mr. Müller was planning to visit, so he called her in advance and reminded her to watch what she said. Now the feared lawyer sat in her living room.

He didn't relax or lean back. His spine was as straight as a tree. Lola offered him a drink, but Mr. Müller kindly refused. His eyebrows were well groomed and his pepper gray hair trailed behind his ear. The lawyer shared he chiefly worked for Austin after he graduated from law school and was a close friend.

"She was fond of you," he added.

Lola couldn't look at him or thank him. How do you respond to compliments of the person you lost? To avoid the awkward silence, she moved the conversation forward and asked him what she can do to help him. Mr. Müller admitted he promised he would check up on her, but he didn't come for that. Not today.

"You are invited to witness the Mable Will."

It puzzled Lola to hear it, so she asked him if they related it to the Ponderosa. "The rental agency stopped returning my calls. The only individuals who can stop me from staying in Ms. Clarisse's cabin are her children."

Mr. Müller grew a smile. "She is giving you her cabin."

Now her back was as straight as his. "There must be a mistake. Ana is the heir. It's been their tradition to pass it on to their daughters, and I'm —"

"She loved you."

Lola thought she cried enough, but her tears returned for an encore. Mr. Müller sighed, not because a young woman was crying, but because he had shared his doubts.

"I too reminded her of the tradition you mentioned, but she insisted you are her daughter." He remembered the conversation clearly because he was unsure of her decision. Especially from a girl he knew little about. "In her heart, she completed the family tradition."

"I told her to stop worrying about me," Lola choked. "She said she wouldn't lift another finger."

"Now, now." Her reaction helped him understand why his client was persistent. Lola loved her back. "She always worried about the effect it would have on you if she passed away. It would be best if you remained positive for her sake." A notification from Mr. Müller's watch stopped him. He read the message, inhaled its content, and closed the notification. "I'm sorry, I'd like to talk to you about our dear friend, but there are preparations to make. To receive the cabin, you must be in attendance. But you must stay silent during the presentation." He apologized for the way he addressed his words and shared his confidence in her behavior. "I only said it to prepare you to meet the Mable children."

Now Lola sprang to her feet.

"Your reaction tells me you know enough about them."

"Ms. Clarisse has done so much for me." Lola shook her head. "But facing Troy, Ana, and Ben. I don't think I can do it."

Mr. Müller would have chuckled, but he trained his emotions. Instead, he shared that Ms. Clarisse knew she would meet her children.

"A driver will be here a week after her funeral services."

"Am I not allowed to attend?"

"She only detailed her will. As for her funeral, she only asked to be buried next to her husband. But the Mable family has informed me they will have a private burial."

"A private burial they won't be attending."

"Be on your best behavior. Within a week, we will meet again." Before Mr. Müller left, he paused for a moment. "I was told you were not allowed to keep her company during her last moments. Again, she was fond of you."

Now Lola understood why rumors were circulating around her. The staff at Gilia thought there would be an inheritance. Who knew rumors, often embedded with lies, would predict the truth? But she didn't care what they thought. Soon she would no longer be in Los Angeles.

Lola observed the black limo that parked on the drop-off zone. The chauffeur left the driver's seat and came around to open the door. He smiled and waved one arm to get her attention.

"Miss Lola, I presume?" He gestured his hand to the seat. "My name is Benjamin. I'm here to escort you to the Mable mansion."

Lola squeezed the strap of her leather purse. "I came to tell you that I changed my mind."

"Mr. Müller said you'd be uncertain about attending. I'm no one to force you, but please remember it was Ms. Clarisse's wish."

Lola sighed. If she was going, it had to be for her and not for her personal feelings against her children. She gave Benjamin a quick nod and sank in the dark leather that molded her weight. A distinct scent of polished cream was what gave them their shine. When the chauffeur drove away, he offered to play any station she liked.

"Classical piano." Perhaps it could calm her nerves.

"If there's a particular song, you let me know." Benjamin looked at the rearview mirror, causing Lola to look away. A migraine was pulsating on the left side of her temple. Her palm grew hot from the unwanted excitement rattling in her chest. "Excuse my discourtesy. You don't want to see those kids of hers, don't you?" Her silence told him he was right. "I was once their family driver until I got too old for them. They fired me as soon as Ms. Clarisse went to live in Gilia."

"You knew her?"

"You are talking to her favorite driver," he grinned from the rearview mirror. "The last time I saw her, she went to Hawaii." His smile brought back the resemblance. It was on the day Lola saw Ms. Clarisse for the first time. Benjamin was the man who offered his arm in the lobby.

"Can you play Yiruma's If I could see you again?" She wasn't in the right spirit for music. But she needed a piece that could make her feel less heavy. "Do you think it was okay?" she said as soon as the piano keys left the speaker.

"What was okay, Miss?" said Benjamin.

"What they did to their mother."

Benjamin appeared to gather his thoughts. He exhaled and apologized for his delay.

"As much as it's not my business...they were mighty...unfair."

"I'm sorry they let you go."

"When Ms. Clarisse went to Gilia, they fired a lot of us old folk. When she found out, she found work for them and got Mr. Müller to hire me!" Benjamin released a deep cackle. "I think she passed me to Mr. Müller to keep me close."

The built-up tension Lola gathered simmered by Benjamin's calming voice. He knew Ms. Clarisse for many years. She wondered why he never drove her to see her children or demand they see her, but she doubted it was what she wanted. If there's one thing Ms. Clarisse did not like was a disingenuous person. Benjamin's smile lingered on. He was not the slightest agitated about returning to the people who fired him. She wanted to follow his example and put her feelings aside. She needed to be ready.

Most of the wealthy Californian homes reside in the safe confines of the hills. Luxurious houses peeked over the walls and gates that surrounded them. To go any further, Benjamin had to go through private security. Within half an hour, they were on the road just near the coast. Between the well-aligned cypress trees, was a pearl mansion glittering through the metal gates that protected it. A single driveway stretched through the open land, and rows of fenced pine trees led the way forward.

"This was her home," Lola said. "I remember it from her photo albums."

"Born and raised," said Benjamin. "This is where she raised her family. Ms. Clarisse loved this place, but after Mr. Mable's death, the life of her home hollowed."

The aristocratic mansion expanded as they drew near. An elaborate steel gate swung open by two men dressed in butler attires. Roman pillars guarded the wide maroon door, and the statues of white lions were on top. The roof was overlapping with what appeared to be dozens of windows for the attic.

"How old is this place?"

"As old as you might imagine. This mansion has been through a lot. It collapsed during that earthquake a few years ago, but the Mable family reconstructed the damage. What you are seeing is a replica of their family lineage. The Mables are not old money. Ancient is the appropriate word."

When they parked, the line of other vehicles reminded her of the meeting ahead. Just as quickly as one would blink was how her marvel of the mansion was robbed.

"Are they here?" she asked.

"No, those vehicles belong to a group of lawyers," replied Benjamin. He remembered feeling a frigid chill from their stare. "They must be Troy's representatives." He asked her to wait so he can open the door for her.

"It's alright."

"Please miss, it will only take a moment."

Lola waited, deciding she could give herself a few seconds to feel invisible. By her third deep breath, the door opened with Benjamin offering his hand. Lola stared at it, finding the details on his white glove.

"You are not alone." Seeing she was hesitant, he reached for her hand and helped her off her seat. "Mr. Müller will be there. Don't worry your little head about meeting the Mable children. They waited this long to get their share. Perhaps they will choke on it."

He cracked a warm smile. It once again refreshed her self-doubt, heartening her to take the next steps without him. A maid in a black dress with white cuffs welcomed her at the foot of the entrance. Inside, a light aroma of flowers filled the arched hallway. The maid marched forward with swift legs, giving Lola little time to bask in Ms. Clarisse's home. The frames of her family members displayed a timeline of the Mable family stretching through the decades. She imagined Ms. Clarisse running through these halls as a little girl, and later, as a woman on her first date with Mr. Mable. Her last steps were on their way to Gilia, and it brought a chill down her spine.

The maid's quick feet held no consideration for the extra weight Lola carried. She stopped halfway so she could join her, and her eyes glanced at Lola's plain clothes to study her status. She forced an awkward smile when she realized she was a nobody and continued. At the end was a seven-panel French door covered under a creamy silk curtain, veiling the other room. The maid swung the doors open with her long slender arms. Lola expected a simple room, but instead, she entered a ballroom. Rows of silver chandeliers sparkled overhead while the patterned porcelain floor mirrored her reflection. Blue drapes hung over the walls. The oval windows in the ceiling brought the sun in to feed the tropical plants.

She wondered how many bands performed on the stage ahead. She imagined the celebrities that laughed and danced in the parties hosted by the Mables. Now it was empty of expensive company and glamor. Rows of plush seats were in the center, and the stage was closed off by its thick red drapes.

Mr. Müller was in the middle front. He leaned his hands on the oak table that had a pitcher of water. His eyes followed every line he read from papers he spread over. The lawyers' Benjamin mentioned were also there. Seven of them stood idly by. One of them locked eyes with Lola and whispered to Mr. Müller, who turned his focus off the table and to the hesitant woman. He welcomed her with a smile and asked her to sit on the left row. She did all while wiping her sweaty palms on her satin pants.

Mr. Müller glanced at his watch because ten minutes had passed. He shook his head, finding it disrespectful for a time-sensitive occasion.

"It looks like there will be many people." Lola glanced behind her and counted the row of seats. Ten.

"I'm afraid not." Mr. Müller straightened his tie. "This is a formal arrangement, those who will attend are —"

The interruption behind kept him from his last sentence. The same maid who brought Lola to the ballroom opened the doors. Her toes curl to hold in her frustration. Her legs were eager to lift her from the seat to run back to Benjamin's vehicle. She remembered no matter how much water she drank, her lips couldn't hydrate. Her pale face was grey, and her eyes had become too heavy for her to hold open. The doctors escorted Lola out of her room while Ms. Clarisse pleaded with the nurses to let her contact her children. Now one of their steps marched halfway through the aisle. Just residing in the same room gave her heart palpitations. Without a doubt, her first son had arrived.

Troy.

Click here to listen to Yiruma's If I Could See You Again

# Chapter 7

The Will to Live

Grey lines filled the corners of Troy's black hair, brushed back, and trimmed at the neck. He rambled while his legs extended with long strides. His posture was stiff and unbendable, carrying the same authority as his mother. He shouted at his lobepiece, a communicator that attached to his earlobe. He blabbered about shipments and used substitute words, so no one in the room would understand.

Behind him trotted Diane, his wife. Ms. Clarisse titled her as the "Hungry for Money Shark." She was younger than Troy, by how many years Lola was too afraid to guess. Her lopsided hair bun proved she hurried out of the house. But the careful details of her makeup confessed mismanaged time. Her petite body moved with graceful steps, all while the tip of her nose reached for the ceiling. She called on her two teenagers to hurry and sit beside their father. The oldest one wedged his eyes on the hologram game console. He strode down the aisle and through the seats without a stagger. Troy's daughter was pretty. She resembled Ms. Clarisse with her sharp chin and round blue eyes. Her blonde curls bounced in adolescence. Her phone was made to look like a flip phone. She held it sideways to flick her thumbs at the illuminating screen.

Troy and his children's attention sank to their devices, ignoring Mr. Müller. Diane smiled at the handsome lawyers. A few minutes later, Ana arrived. Her figure almost ran inside, pulling along a boy of eight who resisted her. Her eyes were light blue and almond-shaped. Her brown hair was the same shade of a once young Mr. Mable.

But she rumbled in annoyance. Her disobedient son was trying to free himself from her grip. Everyone heard their dispute. He didn't want to wait another week to visit his father and demanded that he go today. When the eight-year-old freed his hand away from his mother. He laid on the floor and threw a tantrum. Ana covered her ears and stomped away, leaving her son behind. She sat in the row behind Troy and his family. After no response from his mother, the boy eventually gave up and sniveled after her. When she asked him to take a seat beside her, he stomped two seats away and sat.

After twenty minutes, the teenagers began to moan about the wait. They looked at their eight-year-old cousin, who jumped on the seats because it made Ana angry. Troy resumed his conversations on his lobepiece while his wife smiled ahead.

"Look who showed up," said Troy, who glanced at Diane. "Why don't you say hi to my brother, dear wife?"

Diane looked over her shoulder, holding a sour expression. She asked Troy not to bring up the past, but he ignored her and resumed his conversation on the lobepiece. Ben brought a storm of laughter, but he mumbled at his phone while he headed towards the seats. It took a while before the glares apprehended him to end his call. He took the seat beside Ana and ruffled his nephew's hair. The eight-year-old grumbled and slapped his uncle's hand.

"Well, isn't this a rare sight," declared Troy. "My backstabbing brother is here."

"Shut it, you knew I'd be here." Ben leaned towards his sister. "Where's your husband?"

"We are getting a divorce," she stammered. "I can't believe you forgot! I told you a month ago."

"Oh, sorry." Ben's smiled was a crooked one. It was fake because his lips turned flat when his brother turned his back.

None of them noticed Lola. She studied their movements, hoping to find a sign that they were not monsters. But she had yet to see an ounce of sorrow on their faces. She also noticed the tension among the brothers. In the photo albums, Troy and Ben looked like they were best friends, now the years turned them against one another. Mr. Müller finished his glass of water to clear his throat. He rose from his seat, thanked everyone for attending, and began with a formal introduction.

"As you all know, I am the family lawyer of your late mother, Clarisse Elliot Mable, and of your late father, Austin Mable —"

"We know already!" shouted Ben.

"Are we finished?" marked Troy. "I should be at the office."

"I apologize, but under these circumstances, I have no authorization to cut time for anyone. For legal purposes, this presentation is being recorded. Let's continue where I left off. Troy, can you please finish your call?"

Troy pressed the red light on his lobe to turn it off and glared at the lawyer. "When we finish this circus act, we will see if you're competent enough to continue representing this family."

The threat didn't bother Mr. Müller. He stacked his papers like he didn't hear him and resumed where he left off. "Thank you all for coming to the formal announcement of Clarisse Elliot Mable's Will. Today we will disclose her testimony, estates, and trusts. This meeting will also cover all the assets of Austin Mable, who left it in the care of his wife. Upon Ms. Clarisse's request, our guest on the left will remain in attendance. She was her caretaker in Gilia until her passing —"

"But she isn't a family member!" snapped Diane. "What is she doing here, Troy?"

"I don't care." Troy crossed his arms. "Let's get this taken care of. I have much work to do."

The others didn't lay an eye on Lola. She didn't exist to them. It was that easy for them to believe it. The lawyers behind Mr. Müller recorded the time and made everyone sign a document stating their presence. But the formality and paperwork led the oldest son to lose his patience. His left leg tapped against the floor without pause. Ana got into another argument with her son, and Ben got in trouble for calling one of his girlfriends in secret. The teenagers remained silent, their attention was exclusive to their devices.

"I don't know why Dad didn't pass the Mable company to me," said Troy. "I have been running it since his retirement,"

"Dad didn't want you to take over," replied Ana. "Mom will hand it to me. The Mable women give everything in their name to their daughters."

"You're wrong Ana, mom is going to pass those old resorts in your care," said Ben. "Good luck managing all the business stuff, just give me my rightful share."

The words from the Mable children never lifted an eyebrow from Mr. Müller. He started off with Lola, announcing her receiving of the Ponderosa. He cited the cabin's address in and declared it hers. When he approached Lola, his neutral gaze warmed for her.

"A month before she passed, she contractors to repair any wear in the cabin. From now on, please take excellent care of it and keep her in your memories." Mr. Müller handed a compressed manila folder with a red print reading confidential. He then presented with a cream-colored envelope. "Ms. Clarisse said I wasn't allowed to give this to you until today."

The surprised Lola ripped the corners of the envelope. Her eyes followed every line Ms. Clarisse wrote in handwriting.

Child,

At my age, I did not think I would learn a thing or two. But I did. Giving birth is not the only way to gain a daughter. If there is life after death. I will return to my Ponderosa and watch over you.

P.S. I know this is of late notice, but I was too embarrassed to say it in person,

I am sorry for that slap.

Clarisse Elliot Mable

Lola pressed her fingers to her mouth, unsure if she should laugh or cry. She slipped the letter back inside the envelope, this time with care. Now it was pressed against her heart. The Mable family gave no objection to the Ponderosa. Troy's son chuckled, his thumbs hovered the screen with impressive agility.

"Isn't that the place grandma wanted to take us for summer vacation?" It looked like he was speaking to himself, but his sister, who didn't bother looking at her brother, replied with a quiet yes.

"I was afraid she would pass that dusty cabin to me," added Ana. "I wouldn't know what to do with it besides putting it on the market."

"That's if you could sell it." Diane glanced at Lola. She pinched the silk fabric of her blouse to show her sense of fashion. "That cabin is junk."

Troy and Ben didn't say a word. They didn't care about an old cabin. Who will inherit the company was their primary focus. It was the only thing that kept them in the same room. Diane's stare continued until Lola folded her arms over the manila folder and left her seat. She needed fresh air before she smacked it over her messy bun. But Mr. Müller stopped her before she reached the last row.

"We excuse no one until Ms. Clarisse's Will is complete."

The lawyers were walking around the seats to surround her if she continued. It gave her a chill to think what they would do if she stormed out.

"Please," one of them emphasized.

She returned without a peep, bringing the men-in-suits back to line up. Their locked knees could lead them to faint, and their posture was like the mannequins in a clothing store. Mr. Müller's put on his reading glasses to follow the print with caution.

"Ms. Clarisse made copies of a letter she wants her children to read."

Troy left his seat, outraged by the time he counted as a lost opportunity. Diane tried to calm him, so they wouldn't rouse the lawyers like Lola did, but he didn't budge.

"Just read it to us," he ordered. "The entire company is hanging on a cliff right now."

"I'm not in the mood to read right now," added Ben.

Mr. Müller reverted to another apology. Their comments were insensitive, but not a single vein emerged from his temple. His pale face remained colorless, not a slight rush of blood showed his mood.

"Well then, I suppose I can read it to you all at once." He opened the plain white envelope sealed with royal blue wax.

Lola recognized the seal. A week before her passing, Ms. Clarisse wrote obsessively at night. The staff said that on her days off, her lawyer paid her many visits. If he arrived during her shift, Lola was asked to leave. When she asked for the mysterious letters, Ms. Clarisse wouldn't explain. Instead, she asked her to be a better mother and not give everything so loosely to her children.

The letter animated the posture on the family. Troy's children turned off their gadgets to listen, and Diane re-straightened her back. Ana perched up from her seat while Ben leaned forward. Mr. Müller cleared his throat.

"To my children, Ana, Troy, and Ben. If you are reading this, I am already buried with your father, Austin. I wrote this letter in hopes you will listen carefully to the recording you are about to watch. These are my last words to you."

Mr. Müller nodded at the lawyer to turn on the televisual and sat behind the desk to take off his reading glasses. The settings were prepared in advance, the press of the silver buttons expanded a new wall. The lights in the ballroom dimmed as the televisual projected a tired woman. She opened her mouth, withdrawing a short breath.

"I am happy for this chance to say what is in my heart today. I long waited to have your full attention." Ms. Clarisse closed her eyes to grasp her peace away from the camera. When she opened them, she smiled. "Troy, Ana, and Ben, I went to Gilia because of a promise. I requested for your time and left messages year after year, but not once was I given a chance to see you or my grandchildren. A mother shouldn't beg her children to visit, but through these years, you made it my only alternative. I'm glad Austin is not here to see how you discarded me from your lives. I spent my years in Gilia alone, without the comfort and warmth of the family your father worked hard to provide for. There is more I want to say, but that is not the purpose of today's meeting.

"Thank you for listening to my rambling. Now let's begin the purpose of this meeting, shall we? The first portion of the inheritance you three shall receive —"

Ms. Clarisse pressed her lips together, trying to hold the cough that crawled in her throat. Her eyes watered up as she tried to ease the itch. Lola almost stood from her seat to assist her, only to realize she was longer alive. Ms. Clarisse reached for a glass of water, taking in the clear liquid to calm her nerves. Even with her makeup on, the sickness that robbed her life was visible on her face. The suspension irritated Troy. He folded his arms in silent fury.

"Hurry and tell us!" yelled Ben from the dark.

Their mother scratched her head and looked up at the ceiling. She lost her train of thought and asked what she last said to them. Her shaking arm relaxed when she remembered. She even apologized for the interruption.

"My children, on account of your inheritance, you will not receive a single penny." She fell silent, allowing the words to fall and sink into the pit of their stomachs. Her move was perfect. Everyone in the room lost the muscle to react. She continued. "The company, money, land, shares, and all properties will neither pass to any of my grandchildren, much less your spouses. The inheritance you value so much will no longer be your responsibility. I suppose you're wondering where the Mable fortune has gone, haven't you? Money and property are the reasons why you are even in attendance. You're not here to see my face, nor were you interested in listening to the pain I bore all these years. But fear not, you no longer have the right or obligation to affiliate yourself with the company and assets of the Mables. You may keep the money in your private accounts, but as of today, you are all locked from the private and business accounts within the States and overseas. Since you will no longer have any authority over the family funds. I also took it upon myself to donate my valuable belongings. As for our family heirlooms, they will be kept and stored by an accommodating museum.

"Now, let's return to the question you're burning to know. What will become of the company and the Mable fortune? Who has the capacity and shoulders to carry our employers and convince our shareholders my choice was correct? That answer is Spade, and it's founder, Mr. Helen. The Company Five will also work alongside him to manage the properties and contracts.

"The portion you three by tradition had received every month will support and fund a boarding school founded by Mr. Helen himself. It's ironic that my family fortune and the rest of your father's legacy will be used for parentless boys and girls who have no family." The unanticipated speech tired Ms. Clarisse. She stopped to catch her breath, taking a glass from her table to hydrate her throat. Without warning, the glass slammed the surface. The tired, sad eyes turned hawk-eyed. The look everyone in Gilia feared. The witch of suite 97 manifested before them. "Troy. I relieve you of your role. If you want your position back, you must start as an intern until your superiors promote you."

"I can't believe I'm hearing this!" cried Ana.

"She's joking," shook Ben. "This is a joke."

Their mother's sharp eyes glared on. "Ana, Ben. You will not receive a penny anymore, for goodness's sake, do something with your life! If you despise me for doing this, I welcome, I will embrace it if it makes you self-sufficient."

Ben rose from his seat and shouted at the screen. "Shut up!"

"She's crazy," whimpered Diane. "She wasn't right in the head when she recorded this."

But Ms. Clarisse had more to say. "You three will contest my decision, use my age to title me as a lunatic. But it was no accident." She presented a sheet of paper for them to see and placed it near her heart. It crinkled by how firmly she held it. "What I hold is the original Will your father wrote during his last days. Everything I have said was his idea. The line of men you see with Mr. Müller were in attendance the day your father drew out the draft."

"It's fake," hollered Ben. "This is a sham!"

"Why would your father consider stripping what I felt was your birthright?" Ms. Clarisse had tears in her eyes, but she wouldn't let them fall. "Because sometime in your adolescence, Ben was no longer the thoughtful boy we once knew. After all the toxic relationships, Ana grew intolerant of others, and Troy turned into a stranger. My love for you blinded me from noticing the indifference you had towards us. But your father saw those changes. During his last month, he realized how undeserving you were. The Mable name did not survive alongside history because we counted our wealth. We endured because we value family ties. But I forbid you from blaming your father for your predestined fate. Before his health worsened, on the last day, you three saw him. He overheard you three argue like hyenas over who was deserving of the company. One of you even wished him dead. You hurt the man of my life, but as your mother, I forgave you.

"But know that I defended you and opposed him of the idea to strip you from the Mable inheritance. I convinced him of the harm he could do if he tore away the life we gave you. Austin couldn't decide, so he revised his will and passed everything to me. He said I was blind by motherly love and would soon be the one to decide if you were deserving. I was relieved that I saved our family from a detrimental decision. But then I saw for myself what your father was trying to show me.

"You got a second chance with me, and what did you do with it? You left me in Gilia. Not once did you step your foot on the grounds. I fooled myself, thinking you would change your ways, but you proved me wrong. I sometimes hate myself for thinking Austin was heartless. For wanting to make a life-altering decision.

"As I waited to die, I met a young woman who suffered through worse situations than my own. She tolerated more than you could imagine. When she should hate the world, the girl fed me compassion when I least deserved it. On her own, she tried to survive unbearable environments for the first time.

"Troy, Ana, and Ben do not confuse this decision for not loving you. My love was always there, I am only sorry I failed you as a mother. It is already too late to redeem myself, but I take comfort that I can rest. I can finally leave this heavy feeling that haunted my dreams."

The light returned.

The tired but confident look of Ms. Clarisse faded, but not everyone had yet swallowed her words. Mr. Müller collected his papers, leaving the photo album Ms. Clarisse owned at the table. It was the only item their mother left in their possession. Now that there was nothing left for him to do. Troy was right. He will not be their family lawyer anymore. Lola gripped the strap of her purse. Her heart thumped from the night she last saw Ms. Clarisse. She stopped received treatment that week. Everyone in Gilia thought she died alone. Mr. Müller believed it, not knowing that Lola paid Bradley to let her stay by her side.

Ms. Clarisse chastised her when she showed up to her room, trembling like she did on her first day. Only it would be their last meeting. Lola held her hand in tears but holding a smile for her.

"For once," the weak Ms. Clarisse told her. "I will give them a good spanking."

Mr. Müller closed his briefcase. The snap of the lock made Troy jump from his seat.

"You know we can fight this!" He pointed his finger at each lawyer. "You backstabbing snakes. You can't take what is rightfully mine!"

"This is anything but unlawful," Mr. Müller responded. "You will receive copies of the pertaining documents that exempt you three from receiving any —"

"Shut it!" bellowed Troy. "I'm sending you to prison, and I am taking every one of you to court!"

"That is not likely," said an unsought voice. A man in sharp clothing unveiled himself from the red drapes of the stage. He stepped down, with a smile, and greeted the tense family who gave him dagger eyes. The side of his dark brown hair fell to the front, so he brushed it back to give his green eyes more clarity.

"You..." stammered Troy. "Who summoned you?"

"Your mother," announced Mr. Müller in his stead. "However, she did not want Mr. Helen seen until her speech was over."

"The bastard who took our hard-earned money!" Ben thrust himself from his seat and charged towards the green-eyed man with raised fists. The manikin lawyers re-animated and surrounded Mr. Helen like a group of able bodyguards. They firmly asked Ben to step back. "Give back what belongs to us — it's our birthright!" he cried as he did, in fact, step away.

Ana's tears brought her son to sit down. Diane could not utter a word. She trembled like the ventilation system blasted icicles at her. She glared at her husband and begged him to resolve their problem. Mr. Helen strolled to Mr. Müller's table and poured himself a glass of water. He stared at it like he found some secret writing on the bottom until he returned his attention to Troy and Ben.

"Allow me to make one thing clear. I do not need any financial support from the Mable family. You all know who I am. But since I am unable to receive grants from the government, I pay for the expenses of my boarding school from my pocket. Your mother chose to support my school out of the goodness of her heart. Take me to court. I welcome it. Be sure you spend what she left on your private accounts to pay for the legal fees. Should you ask for a private loan, I'll see to it that not a single penny will go through without my authorization."

Mr. Helen finished his glass and excused himself. Mr. Müller followed him, so Lola trailed after them. She looked behind one last time at the quiet and disheartened. Back in the grand hall was the reality of their lost inheritance. White sheets had already covered the frames she couldn't enjoy. She shadowed six feet behind Mr. Müller and Mr. Helen, just enough to listen to their conversation.

"I imagine it took much courage for such an unanticipated decision," said Mr. Müller. "I hope she had no regrets."

"Just because the mother bird kicked her fledglings from her nest. It doesn't mean she doesn't love them," said Mr. Helen. "Their behavior today confirms the rumors of the Mable children and their mother. Still, I don't believe her decision to wean them is the true embodiment of her love."

"That's because her love exceeds the Milky Way," said Lola, uninvited to their conversation.

Mr. Helen dragged his steps, realizing the woman waddling behind him wasn't a maid of the house. The lawyer apologized for not introducing them.

"This is Lola. She was Ms. Clarisse's Attendant and a much-cherished friend."

The green eyes dropped at Lola's round stomach. "I hope you become a splendid mother," he said. "Children deserve exemplary parents."

Mr. Helen extended his hand for her to take. While his firm grip shook her arm, she found a sad story in his eyes. But she couldn't guess what made them weary because he hid it so well. When Mr. Helen noticed she could see the darkness inside him. He protected it by releasing her hand and revealing a smile.

"Do you have children?" she asked.

"I am the least person suited for parenthood," He led the way to the steps of the Mable mansion. "Running a boarding school for one hundred students is enough work for me."

Benjamin had parked near the stairs, ready to go. A group of house workers made their way out. They didn't expect a paycheck from the Mable children if they stayed any longer.

"Thank you for coming," said Mr. Müller, who took Lola's hand for a gentle shake. "I take it you will leave for Washington State."

"The sooner, the better," Lola replied while rubbing her stomach. "I have to keep my baby safe at all costs."

The mother's comment warmed Mr. Helen's heart. He worked so much he forgot what unconditional love looked like. He excused Benjamin from leaving the driver's seat and opened the door. He offered his hand to help her to her seat, but she stared at it like she did with Benjamin. Being treated like a lady was still new to her. But she took his hand, allowing him to lead her back the seat. Mr. Helen even gave her his handkerchief, just in case she got motion sickness. Their eyes met again. The sadness instilled inside him was no illusion. It made her wonder. Could he also see hers?

"It was nice meeting you," he said. "Have a safe trip and a safe delivery." He closed the door and stepped back to resume his chat with Mr. Müller. Lola didn't know what they were saying, but she guessed they carried interesting conversations by how quickly their lips moved.

On the road back, they discussed Ms. Clarisse's decision. Benjamin also didn't see it coming. Lola couldn't forget the way Ana shook. Troy's confident posture turned into a desperate man looking for answers on the floor. His wife couldn't stop muttering to herself, and Ben lost his voice.

Lola hoped they would open the photo albums Ms. Clarisse left for them. It was in her collection of images that they would discover what mattered most. In those frozen images, they will find her, a blonde-haired woman with big blue eyes who smiled widest when her husband and children surrounded her.

# Chapter 8

Dr. Graham's Frustration

September 26, 2050

"Lola, are you listening?" Dr. Graham lowered his head, and his lenses dropped to better look at her. His gray eyebrows lifted, wrinkling his forehead. His coat was bleached to the point of causing a migraine.

Lola had to be careful around him as her first appointment was still a fresh memory. He saw her stomach and her gestation week on his tablet with a long silence. Instead of introducing himself, he told her what she was doing in Leavenworth and from Los Angeles. "Why did you leave?" he would say. "Got tired of the sun?" he would tease. "Where is your family?" he would groan.

Instead of giving him an answer, Lola stared at his burgundy desk. The gloss reflected the light from every corner. She couldn't imagine the trouble of moving such high-quality lumber through the waiting room, narrow hall, and through her obstetrician's office. The expensive desk was better suited for the office of a CEO, but destiny played a cruel hand. It collected dust on the corners, and a chip was on the right leg. Lola blinked her thoughts out and looked at the man who was waiting for her response.

"I'm sorry you were talking about the snow?" she guessed.

"Yes, snow." Her doctor was no longer frustrated. He appeared to be on the next level — furious. "We get over ninety inches for the year. I'm certain your area will get more. Do you understand the challenges your commuting to the forest and back will create?"

"Yes."

"Yes?" he repeated. "Yes, what?"

"That it will snow."

Dr. Graham's eyelids shut as he withdrew a deep breath. "I understand Los Angeles doesn't have weather like ours, but this is Washington State. The temperature will drop next month, the rain will be heavy, and the fog here will cover your precious forest like ticks in the summer. A pregnant woman such as yourself should live in town, not an hour and a half from an emergency center. What if you were to go in labor? Don't tell me you'll be driving yourself, Lola? Lola — you are not listening!"

The doctor swiped his glasses off and placed them on his desk. He rubbed his temple like the mere sight of her led him to grow a headache. The tension between them worsened over the month. This was because Dr. Graham was a veteran. He had seen many expecting mothers, ranging from teenagers to forty-year-old women who were unsure about carrying for eight months. For reasons he wouldn't share, he was a verbal advocate for women's health. Still, his stubborn personality was a hard shell, inside and out. His years of practice told him Lola was one of the quiet ones. Her mouth was inaccessible and secured, and it would better fit the vault of a bank. When he told her she was careless for living in the forest, he expected his patient would stop seeing him and look for another doctor. But Lola surprised him when she returned for their next appointment. Because of Ms. Clarisse, she was not afraid of him, and he liked that.

Lola looked at the Persian rug beneath her feet. Golden weaves trailed around the heavy designs that surrounded a pouncing, roaring lion. If she ignored her doctor, it was because she decided not to talk about California for the sake of her little one. It was hard enough that after she was thousands of miles from Los Angeles, her husband's threats and her mother's memory burned in her mind like an undying flame. For now, her plan was to keep her doctor and the small town from knowing why she moved during her final trimester. But because Dr. Graham was direct and not afraid of prying into her business. Lola had to resort to reasonable lies. One of them included that the father of her child was dead. After a gentle knock, the medical assistant smiled at the ghastly man and tight-lipped patient and told them their room was ready.

"Let's get you checked," he groaned, rising from his seat.

A tint of disinfectant products lingered when Lola walked inside the examination room. She stopped to look at her reflection on the waxed floor. The medical assistant moved her attention from it, greeting her with the same smile. The repetitive scenario began, starting with a trip to the restroom where she left her urine sample. She returned and stepped on the scale until the medical assistant asked her to sit on the exam table.

"Hold still." She pressed a round metallic pressure monitor that was the size of a quarter. It stuck to the surface of Lola's wrist and activated, leaving a warm tingle as it recorded her pulse. The stillness made her fidget, crumbling the paper underneath her.

Dr. Graham rolled his black stool chair to glare at her. "She said, hold still." He moved away while shaking his head.

"Don't mind him," whispered the medical assistant. "He's really sensitive when it comes to you."

"How is he when I'm not around?" Lola whispered back.

"He's just grumpy."

"You mean there's a difference?"

The women's laughter caused Dr. Graham to glare at them. He placed a slim tape over her stomach, measuring the distance and writing down the growth.

"Pretty soon, you will have your baby in your arms." He rolled the ultrasound machine to his side and looked at his patient. "The other patients usually chirp, smile, or tense up when I say that."

"You were testing me?"

"Forget the test, will you smile for once in your life?" his finger tapped on her forehead. "You worry your mind too much. Pregnancy is no carnival ride, but your mood can affect your expectations. My wife is a cheerful woman, but she got depressed on her last trimester. It even followed her through her postpartum. Try to relax. This is your last trimester. You must consider that at this time—"

Lola told herself to listen, but her doctor's speech was too long for her inattentive mind. Her eyes had a better attention span than her ears. They hooked on the heavy lines on Dr. Graham's face. His pepper gray hair, and the tiny bald spot where his hair whorl used to grow. She wanted to stop her one-track mind, but she didn't want to admit that he was right. If her water broke, she would be driving herself to the hospital. Hoping to create some peace between them, she looked at the gold ring on his finger.

"How long have you been married?" she asked.

Like Ms. Clarisse, Lola wanted to hear a genuine story about love. One that was real and not a bogus lie like her own. She saw his wife in the waiting room. She knew it was her when Natalie called her, "Mrs. Graham." She admired her winter blonde hair, classy sense of fashion, and her pearly smile that supported her high pitch laugh. She was sure all the women in her circle envied her. Still, she struggled to believe her plain doctor romanticized such a classy lady.

"Forty-two years," replied Dr. Graham. "We married straight out of high school."

"So young." Lola wanted to tell him she also married early, but she kept her silence. Her relationship was not a sweet story to tell.

"Well, I knew she was the one for me." Dr. Graham analyzed his patient's puzzled look. "Love is a complicated thing, so I'm not saying it was easy."

Lola tried to imagine her doctor swooning over his wife, but she couldn't think of it. Not when now when he wore the same colored grey slacks, brown leather shoes. His plaid shirts came from every color available in the retail market. Dr. Graham only wrote with a blue pen like it was one of God's commandments. Just this morning, she overheard two patients gossiping in the waiting room. They saw Dr. Graham at a bingo event. Her doctor playing bingo for a sport? Now that was comical. Her unfair and critical theories of Dr. Graham ended after a pulsing sound filled the room.

padum-padum-padum-padum-padum-padum

Her delight made a slight grin on Dr. Graham's face, showing his soft interior and good intentions. "Are you sure you want to keep the gender a secret?"

"I'm in no rush to know." Lola closed her eyes, leaving only the sound to fill her mind. "I just want my baby to be born."

"Aren't you're in a rush," he added with sarcasm.

But it was an accurate observation. The dead father was haunting her, sending menacing voicemails. Sometimes she would delete it, others she would listen to his hoarse anger telling her he would find her. Dr. Graham's chuckle forced her to glance at the screen. A tiny thumb was pressing against the lips. Lola sighed with relief.

Safe, and sound.

After the check-up, they were back in his office. It would be the third time Lola had to assure her doctor that she registered at the hospital. She swung her blue backpack over her back, carrying her essentials for the journey home: water bottles, snacks, first aid kit, maternity pills, and a flashlight. Dr. Graham leaned his elbow on his desk. He focused on her bag.

"You're not one to leave clues, so this is my guess." He kept his tone down to appear pleasant and trustworthy. "You live alone in that cabin."

Now Lola felt obliged to reassure him, just so his conscience would let him sleep at night. "It's been an awhile since I moved in that cabin," she tenderized. "But...I am fine."

"Ha. You're lucky to be alive out in the wilderness!"

"It's a vacation spot."

"It used to be a vacation spot. You got nothing but hunters as your only visitors for the winter."

"I like my privacy."

"Privacy? And what if there is an emergency?" A few words from him and she was at his mercy. He played his cards right by warning her of the bears, wolves, cougars, and wolverines. He could tell her ghosts inhabited the area, and she wouldn't care.

"I'll be fine."

"Who will dial 911 if you have an emergency, Bambi?"

Was this all he had? Quick remarks and wild animals to convince her to write a contact number and live in this town? Lola took in a deep breath to deliver her response, and for once, it was not a lie.

"Animals can't scare me," she grinned at him. "Not when I have a shotgun."

Dr. Graham dropped his head. His eyebrows furrowed against one another. Instead of admitting her victory, he wrote with furious strokes and handed over the note for her to take to the receptionist. His frown displayed his loss for the day, so she hid her smile.

If she needed her shotgun, it wasn't for a grizzly bear or a pack of grey wolves. This one lived in Los Angeles. As he walked Lola to the hallway, Dr. Graham pressed a sticky note on her palm. Written in blue ink was his mobile number.

"You're not my first patient without support." Dr. Graham adjusted his glasses. "But know that being loved by family helps create a child's identity and their place in the world."

Love? Family? Was it love that her mother called her worthless? Lola felt her lungs leaked air. Identity? There was no room to grow it. Her identity became what her husband threw to her face. She didn't hear it, but she felt his intoxicated growl in the hallway. She wrinkled the sticky note, hoping it would flush the memories, but the voice of her husband stuck to her like syrup. They squeezed her like a serpent, aiming to devour her sense of peace. She shuddered in response to the poison he injected and sped through the medical assistants passing by and returned to the waiting room with her heart coiling inside her chest.

Natalie was the receptionist who sat neatly behind glass, reading through a pile of papers. Her head bounced to the song coming behind her desk, and her eyes beamed like a student concentrating on their entrance exam. She almost hesitated to ask for the note because Lola could not look at her. Still, she took it without voicing out her concern. They never said much to one another. Lola would take any day or time. Was there anything else? Not at all. She was the perfect patient.

The sliding doors opened with expecting mothers walking in with their protruding bellies. The couple behind Lola were discussing the arrangements they made for their upcoming baby shower. She listened, all while her foot drummed on the floor. The waiting room felt hotter than usual, and it wasn't poor air conditioning.

Natalie was on her light-ware, typing to what felt like a novel. When she found Lola staring at her, she rolled her eyes. But she was not staring to be rude, Dr. Graham's words were overstrung, and they still rang inside her. A vague but foreboding feeling clung to her back, stiffening her shoulders. Family? She thought. My only family was Ms. Clarisse, and now she's gone.

Lola's fingers smudged against the white counter with her sweat. She exhaled a dramatic sigh to show the receptionist her patient was feeling impatient. But Natalie ignored it. The volume on the televisual appeared to be rising. But no one had control over the sound, it was only blaring in her mind. The couple behind her was still yapping for everyone to hear. Their conversation changed from baby shower plans to the primary colors for the nursery room they have yet to finish.

Lola gripped the counter now.

Her breath quickened, and her eyesight grew hazy. Seeing the tension on her face, Natalie hesitantly slid her appointment card through the opening glass. Before she could let go. Lola's hand swooped like a vulture, snatching it from her fingertips. The receptionist rolled her chair back from her barbaric move. Maybe she frightened her. Perhaps she got a paper cut. No matter.

She hurried out of the clinic.

# Chapter 9

The Swirling Stars

Government-owned vehicles often parked by the roadside to examine the health of the Okanogan-Wenatchee forest. Restoration strategists had a habit of flagging Lola down with a haughty stare to ask what her business was with their forest. To cut a long explanation, she carried proof in the glove box for the Forest rangers. Now they wave at her, seeing she was not a threat to the forest. But their heads still shook at her gas-dependent truck.

Fifteen minutes through a private road, an old wooden sign that read The Ponderosa was almost blurred out, weakened by the elements of the forest. It led to a dirt path that caused the wheels to squeal from the uneven earth. Lola couldn't speed through it, not without risking her truck from veering off the narrow road. Two Pacific Yews that marked the entrance. Their shape took a form of two slender bodies with their arms entangled against one another. Ahead were bricks of stone that elevated the two-level cabin. What was once a faded burgundy was now painted red wine. On the extended porch, her self-help books were on the open weave loveseat, keeping the coffee table clutter-free. Wild plants flourished in many of the undesired parts of the property. Lola was warned that any saplings she ignored could be a risk. She called to hire a contractor to trim and clear the plot, but the price for the service repulsed her more than a plant's reaction to weed-killer spray. When she parked near the footpath, she got off and listened to the bubbling sound coming from the hood of her truck.

"Good girl," she said, patting the side of her pickup. Many car enthusiasts didn't appreciate how she took care of it. But it wasn't called a classic without a tax bill at the end of every year. She also couldn't part with it because it was her first vehicle. It ran and remained loyal despite the wear and damages like the passenger door window.

As Lola climbed the stairs, she breathed in the array of birch trees on the north were shedding a cluster of their golden leaves. She whispered hello to the oak tree that shined its auburn coat. Its towering height never competed for light. When she walked inside, a bell collar was heard from the second floor until it went down to meet her.

"I survived Dr. Graham for another day," she told her tuxedo-cat.

Inside, the Ponderosa looked like a modern home with its plastered walls, tiled floors, and plush carpeting. The living room had a descend she taped yellow to keep her from under-stepping. The first floor had one bathroom, the laundry room, and a kitchen-dining room. The second floor had a master bedroom, two-bedroom and a full study space at the end of the hall.

She was hungry, so she raised her tail and led the way to the kitchen. Lola set her backpack on the sofa and followed her feline friend to the kitchen. After her morning sickness no longer sent her to the bathroom, her craving for hot chocolate came after. As the milk heated over the stove, Kinoki's kibbles were poured into a bowl and set down. The dining table and the wide window that invited the mountain peaks were skipped for the porch. It was better to see the mixed families of pine, spruce, and fir before the temperature became unbearable. The mug decorated with soft gushy marshmallows made Lola brush her hand over her abdomen.

"I heard your heartbeat again," she said while staring at the distance. "It was so strong, I was afraid you would break a vessel." She closed her eyes when the wind picked up and combed her hair.

There was something about the empty presence of the forest that relaxed her. It was the stillness one felt after their pulsing ears left a blaring concert. Music for the mind and the freedom to think came in the discovery that a soundless room could be appreciated. The mind didn't need to think.

October 10, 2050

Lola gasped for air before she opened her eyes. Dews of sweat slipped off her forehead, just as she pressed her back against the headboard. She whisked the blanket off, but she was still burning. She grabbed her scrunchy from the bedside table and twirled her hair into a bun to cool her neck. Something was wrong with the AC unit to blow heat through the night. But when she stepped into the hallway, it was the typical cold from every other night. She shuddered at the change of temperature that probably closed her pores.

The thermostat on the wall was blinking red. It brightened the hallway with an upsetting glow. The monitor was activated the temperature of every room in the cabin. Her bedroom was in yellow, ninety-eight degrees.

"You got to be kidding me," Lola groaned.

First, the wild plants, now a broken heater, wanted to empty her savings. Before she lost herself at the cost of hiring a repair contractor, she smacked her lips and went downstairs for a glass of water. But the livingroom proved there was another problem. It was as hot as her bedroom. The cocktail of trapped heat smudged the windows and trapped the vapor. She flicked the fabric of her nightgown to ventilate the sweat building between her breasts.

When a radiant blue light flicked from the porch window, she stopped. Something inside her found the wind vicious. It wasn't trying to pass by, rather it was trying to break inside. The windows rattled, and the clatter woke Kinoki from the sofa. She stretched her spine until the blue flicks of light stopped her in the same way it did for her. She leaped on the windowsill while joined her, wiping the fog on the glass. Something above the pine trees made them glitter. Curiosity, the murderer of cats, led Lola outside.

A grey tint in the sky covered the night. She gripped the rail and walked down the stairs, wide-eyed and mouth dropped. Millions of stars were warping around a parade of meteor showers, stirring and spiraling in a clockwork motion. The long streaks slurred like a recorded time-lapse. The rocks that fell into the atmosphere burned a blue flame before it disintegrated in the distance. The illuminated forest and the fabled sight kept her from noticing she stepped on the ground. Kinoki didn't follow her, but she watched from the window. Her yellow eyes sparkled from the repetitive spurs in the sky.

The uncanny view wobbled Lola's balance, or so she thought. The stirring stars didn't cause her wooziness. It came from beneath her feet. It was the rattling legs of her furniture that convinced her to hold on to the rail. The silent forest met the screech of hundreds of nails simultaneously clawing at a chalkboard. Lola's pounding heart rushed her up the steps, but she stopped, climbed again, and stopped again. She couldn't stop herself from looking at the sky. A large meteoroid was making a plunge from space. Tiny rocks surrounding it were unable to make the travel. They broke and burned through the mesosphere, unable to compete with the massive hunk.

Lola shut her eyes as her ears throbbed from the blaring sound waves, hovering over the forest like an erupting volcano. The wind violently swayed the north temperate evergreen trees like they were clothes that needed drying. Eventually, the atmosphere and friction became too much. Blocks and pieces of the meteorite chipped off the shoulder. Once the size reduced to fifty feet, it began to whirl like a spinning top.

The descent brought a frightening moan, scaring Lola back inside the Ponderosa. She slammed the door and gripped the doorknob to steady herself for the impact. Trees were cracked and snapped like twigs. Lola screamed as a blast detonated, shaking the ground for a second time. The door handle still jiggled from her shaking grip.

Kinoki scratched the door, startling Lola. Her sweaty hands slipped until she opened the door. This time her cat stormed out. She joined her, finding no illuminations in the sky, no parade of meteors. Silence returned to the forest. The wind was no longer angry. It gently stirred the leaves as if nothing happened. The stars blinked their innocence at her and Kinoki as if to say they did not spiral like a merry-go-round. When her cat leaped on the porch rail, her small frame faced north. Lola could hear them now, they were the cries of crows resonating in the distance. But the impact did more than awake the local birds. A group of galloping doe and buck swept through the front yard and headed south.

"It's freezing," Lola said, brushing Kinoki's coat. "Let's go back inside."

When she shut the door, she noticed the heat in the living room was gone. The clear windows had no trace of water residue. But her thirst told her the place was a sauna, and that she still needed water. She drank a glass full in one sitting and gasped, realizing she was not letting herself breathe. It was her fear of the smell of alcohol. The meteorite was going to attract attention and reporters. Lola rubbed her nose, wanting to forget his breath. His anger, and the pocketknife he couldn't pull out. Nothing would stop him from finishing what he started.

In bed, Lola could not erase the noise of the meteorite and the spiraling stars. But she appreciated Kinoki decided to join her. Her cat rolled into a ball by her hip, just enough for her to brush her black fur. There was a piece of recent news she watched at Dr. Graham's clinic. A march of animal rights advocates was rallying in Washington D. C. after a growing number of hunters went on a killing spree. Their intent was to lower the feline population. The small carnivorous mammal was a target because of their natural tendency to eat birds. It was true that various bird populations fell in numbers because of them, but Lola thought the blame was unfair. The hunters were putting no responsibility on humans whose consumption of resources stole the homes to millions of animals and that of their precious birds. But of course, the blame went to the domestic cat. After all, there were no laws keeping owners accountable for a litter of kittens. Now cats, much like dogs, fell victim for occupying space. Euthanasia or a bullet was the solution. Lola's focus started to dwindle.

"Kinoki," she whispered as sleep was settling in. "Why do you leave dead things in the kitchen?" Her tuxedo cat raised her head and looked at her with intense eyes.

If she could talk, what would she say?

# Chapter 10

Blood and Leaves

The news headline should have titled it as Last Night's Spectacular. Instead, the reporter was following his cue, announcing the news and shifting the focus to the weatherman who predicted a dense fog. The trail of smoke from the meteorite was closer than she imagined. She expected the Rangers would come knocking on her door, but the day went on as usual. NASA made no comments, and there was no amateur video on the internet, not from Leavenworth, Wenatchee, or Waterville.

Nothing.

Lola would have let it go and pretended that meteorites were a normal occurrence. But she couldn't. Not after her soundless forest and Ponderosa started to make noises and drum against her. It started with her routine on the porch that always accompanied a cup of hot chocolate. Before she could sit, a mother doe caught her eye. She raised her head, chewing on a white sheet that belonged to a book. When her cup shattered, it startled the deer back into the forest. Her coffee table was upside down. Stacked on the corner were her pillows, neatly towering over each other. The spine of her hardcovers had nothing to hold. Every page was torn and left to scatter across the yard like butterflies in Spring. It horrified her. No animal could stack her pillows like they were setting up a tower of Jenga.

Since then, the drums wouldn't stop.

Lola parked her truck on her private road. When she got off, she rolled her shoulders and looked at the sky. The smoke was barely visible, but it was near. She read all she could on the internet on meteorites. She could not forget the deep blue that surrounded the rock. Gas and friction could have played a role in producing the color. But the one that survived the atmosphere couldn't produce them. As for the swirling stars, there was nothing to find. Just images of how photographers left the aperture exposed to create the effect.

As she walked through the lining of trees, she unfolded her fingers to steady her shotgun. She lied to Dr. Graham when she told him it was under her bed. She could never be that bold. But it never left the back seat of her truck, not since her husband made her take it. He was drinking that day but was in a pleasant mood. Lola had to drive him to the hills where his friends waited for him. She stayed in her truck and watched them practice on the bottles of beer the lined on a stump. When he called her over, Lola was certain their gleamy eyes told her she was going to be target practice. Instead, he shoved the pump-action to her chest. She didn't think he wanted to teach her for self-defense, he wanted to see her fail among his friends and she did. She worked the pump like they instructed and brought the round into the chamber. At the first shot, she stumbled back from the recoil. While her ears rang, her husband joined the laughing group, but his amusement that day angered her. That night she researched all she could read about the pump that left her with a headache. She drove to her own hill the following day and fired a few rounds. She never returned the gun, and he, out of being absent-minded or unable to recall where it went, never asked for it.

The absent sunlight and the storm of vibrant leaves made Lola queasy. The branches cracked and snapped under her boots. Ahead was a smooth bark of aspen, following it was musky scent worsened her nausea. The pine trees were covered in black soot. A village of Black Cottonwood was all charcoal by the fire damage. Between the crack that disintegrated them was a rugged hill. Leaves were revolving in and out of the bowl, each one was a satin black. A crack behind her forced her to pump her shotgun and aim at what caused it. Her icy fingers trembled at the cat.

"Kinoki." She lowered her weapon. "Of all the things in the world!"

Her cat shifted her ears to the sound of the leaves. She then caught the same foul scent. The search for the meteorite had to be on hold for another day. Her cat couldn't follow her, not if it meant losing her to the wilderness.

"Come here." To fool her into her arms, she pretended there was food in her hand. She smacked her tongue against her upper teeth, hoping to attract Kinoki's attention. When her cat was within reach, she swung her arms to snatch her like an owl. But the fur ball dashed between her legs and sprang to the lip of the crater.

"I'm leaving." She made a few steps back and warned her of the animals that would love to make a meal out of her.

But her cat turned her left ear as another non-verbal sign that she wasn't taking her seriously. When her tail brushed against the ground, it formed a cloud of dust. She was distressed, chirping anxiously at what she saw below. Kinoki lifted her nose when the chemical scent returned.

Something was burning. It stung Lola's eyes on her way to retrieve her cat. The black tar-like ground felt like a firm mattress. She buried her nose under her sleeve to endure the irritating scent until she reached the top. Below was a bowl of ruptured land, stretching sixty meters in diameter. The source of the foul odor came from several tiny blue flames. It shared the same color that surrounded the meteorite. The flames flickered around it like it was performing a vigil, the leaves that touched it was engulfed, but they did not disintegrate. Not like the black blotches burned among them. It scattered their black feathers for the wind to drive away.

Lola moved her focus back to the culprit of this disaster, the cracked astral rock. It was half-buried at the center and was a dark brown, like Dr. Graham's expensive desk. It drew in Lola like magnet and iron, like an art enthusiast and an appealing painting in a museum. Kinoki did not move from the hilltop, but she watched the human approach it.

As she stepped over the crows, she accidentally tapped one of them. Their entire body moved, frozen from rigor mortis. Their open beaks and frozen expressions made her nervous. She aimed her shotgun at the rock, fearing something would pop out. Though it was no bigger than her truck, it could have done catastrophic damage. Tiny fragments of sandy minerals glittered at every turn. She rubbed her fingers on the rough edges, they were bumpy and sharp. Forged from the mounting heat in the atmosphere, it felt as prickly as Kinoki's tongue.

The landing cracked a chunk off the meteorite like what a machete would do to a coconut. As Lola peeked inside, her eyes automatically focused on the center, it had a silky side, like a mussel's shell. Above were small crystals, bulging in opposing directions. Though she had not moved a muscle, it sparkled by the movement of her eyes alone. She drew closer, not knowing what to think of the tiny swirls of vapor that warmed her cheeks. When her eyes lowered, she found a red pool.

"My God!" Her voice echoed as she stumbled out of the hollowed rock. Her finger was still on the trigger, and it would not let go. It tightened until enough pressured caused it to fire. A round went into the empty foundation, but the birdshot did not rebound. An invisible force held the pellets to keep them from damaging the crystals. In response, the smooth interior turned red. The crystals above followed until the entire rock brightened her face. Lola's legs wobbled back, her eyes dropped at the dotted trail of blood. She was too enchanted by the meteorite to notice. Now her eyes couldn't avert from the footprints with no tread lines.

"Kinoki," Lola whispered. "Let's go home —"

A cry resonated among the trees.

At that moment, the rock's color turned blue, until it returned to its normal state. The ghostly howled returned. This time it made the ground shake. Adrenaline loosened her solid bones and stirred her until it told her to run. Her legs were still shaking. Her left foot bent and slid underneath. But she caught herself from the abrupt stagger and boosted herself back on her feet. Kinoki waited with static fur from her neck to the tip of her tail.

The voice was back. This time she called for help. But Lola's mind raced intending to get out in one piece. She whisked Kinoki to her chest and marched back. She would call herself crazy if she answered the woman after the meteorite proved it could glow and react to her shotgun. When she returned to the Ponderosa, she called the rangers and reported what she heard and saw. A rescue team was sent, but they found nothing.

No crater, no cry for help.

October 25, 2050

Lola was used to isolation's touch, and she was prepared to stay in the Ponderosa like a hermit. But when something existed that no one could confirm, it made her feel like an outcast. She rolled her back against her bed. The light was shyly peeking through the blinds, brightening her room.

It was another morning.

The concerned Forest rangers, who found no crater or crying woman, suggested she get out more. Though small, she had yet to explore Leavenworth, nor did she try before the meteorite landed. Dr. Graham's clinic and the grocery store were her regular visits. She hardly looked at the blend of tourists crowding at a particular street with many little shops. Instead, she stocked on toilet paper for the year, crowded her fridge with more than enough food, and purchased more firewood than needed.

Without Gilia, its staff, and Bradley, her list of co-workers and acquaintances were gone. Since Ms. Clarisse passed away, her heart was afraid to connect with the locals. Now the world was telling her that it was not on her side. But there was one person who, though he talked her ear out, was a rogue, and possibly an ally.

When her phone highlighted Dr. Graham's contact number, her index finger hovered over the call button. Should she call him? He was already pushy as it is. Every morning, he sent her the precipitation for the day. At the end was an emoti, an animated sticker of a smiling face. It gave her the impression that his wife was texting on his behalf. It had to be because the real Dr. Graham would add a frown.

Lola dug her face in the pillow and pressed the button. When the line answered after the second ring, the surprise forced her to throw her pillow off the bed. She coughed, pretended her throat was sore, and listened as Dr. Graham rambled about ginger tea and honey. Desperate for answers, she stopped him midway and asked what he thought on the meteorite that hit the forest.

A silence followed.

Lola pressed the phone while her heart pounded. Her doctor was never this quiet. He then asked her if Bambi saw it too. She gave him a nervous laugh and hoped he was teasing and answer truthfully. When the call ended, she regretted throwing her pillow off the bed. She wanted to scream against it until she couldn't anymore. Instead, she buried herself under her blanket. The quick solution to forgetting the meteorite and woman was to put her brain on standby. But the honest desire was taking her to a doorway, a point in time she did not open. Though it felt like a strange dream, there was nothing dream-like about it.

# Chapter 11

Desultory Time

Lola was embraced before the arms released and allowed her to fall into a black pool. She held her breath before contact, but there was no water to break her fall. Instead, she was entering a pool of gravity that slowed her down. It felt like dark syrup, dense and heavy. All of her five senses were stimulated. Her eyesight was vivid, peering at her white sleeping gown. She pushed the fabric down to keep it from covering her face. Her neck was sticky from sweat, and the pressure was plugging her ears. Her mouth still had the brand of toothpaste she used before bed. Her nose picked up the refreshing scent of the clouds from the mountain and would spill into the cabin.

When her feet found the end of the pool. She stood on a plane made of black marble. She brushed the surface with her feet until her legs carried her weight, and her gown and hair fell back down. She didn't know a pair of eyes were watching her, observing her confusion until her peripherals sensed it. When she turned to confront them, the watcher disappeared, but it left her heart racing. A nameless feeling was pouring inside, constantly beating that something was lost. She walked through the dark plane, searching but not knowing what she was searching for. It carried the same apprehension of having lost the keys in the car or wallet at the grocery store.

Though the emotions overwhelming her were not her own, she searched for the nameless item in the abyss. Her feet slapped against the cool marble until she stopped when sweat got into her eye. She didn't feel hot, but her body was undergoing a different kind of stress. She peered through the grey tint barely lined the horizon. There was a soft whimper.

"Who are you?"

Her voice brought a blinding flash. Clouds of white smoke started to ascend beneath her feet. The hiss of tight-locked air leaking from a gas pipe brought a fog that started to blur her eyesight. White paint started to drip on the wall that should have been the sky. What was left of dark and obscure was the silhouette of a giant Oregon White Oak. The roots of the trunk had a deformed hollow. The branches drooped, almost touching the white marble that replaced the black. As Lola inspected the depressed tree. A figure in the cavity forced her to stop altogether.

The dark figure was a little girl, weeping once again. Her legs were in between her arms, and her face rubbed against her knees. The length of her dark hair went past her shoulders, hiding her nakedness. Lola brought herself out of her absent stare and called out to her. But the sobbing did not respond. She moved closer, observing her vigorous shake from a cold she couldn't feel.

"Come out," she said warmly. "I won't hurt you."

The girl's held her breath. She didn't think there was company. She crouched and slowly stumbled out of the hollow trunk. A pool of water formed at her feet, she was drenched in water as if someone submerged her and recently got her out.

"Don't...look at me." The girl lowered her head, allowing her hair to work as curtains.

"Okay, I won't," Lola said to reassure her. "I just want to know if you're okay."

Time stopped for the awkward child, her mouth remained parted, and her head leaned sideways. Even her shivering ceased. Lola placed her hand on the girl's shoulder, she was warm, alive for that matter. When she moved her out of her trance, the girl clamped her mouth and stepped back.

"Do you have a name?"

"Yes?" the girl asked, implying a question.

It was a weird response.

"You're not hurt?"

"No, well...a little. My chest hurts."

"Let me see."

"No!" The girl laid back on the ground and resumed the fetal position. "They know my secret," she whispered. "They know I lost a part of me, but I don't know where I left it." She turned to Lola with a quick jerk. "Maybe you took it!" she barked. "You took it, didn't you!"

"That's not fair, I don't even know what you lost."

The girl realized she was right and cried as a result. Lola rubbed her forehead for her stupidity. She wasn't so sure if she could calm the girl, but she was ready to get out of her dream. When the girl calmed down, she went back to her feet. She turned sideways as if someone called her. Seeing the side of her face exposed the detail of the sharp curve on the upper lip. She was no taller than a seven-year-old. Her round cheeks glimmered with tears, but her face remained shrouded in mystery, covered by her black hair.

"Mind telling me what you lost?" she said, noticing the girl thoroughly gazed among the fog.

"They're coming," she whispered. "They're looking for me." She dashed behind the oak tree. "Hurry!" she yelled. "Run!"

The fog covered her in seconds, but Lola stood like a potted plant. She didn't see any danger. And there was no one to meet or greet, all except heavy boots, clouting against the ground. They sounded like an old pair, used past its capacity. She waited for an appearance, but no one approached. Below was a different scenario. A muddy pair of men's boots stopped in front of her. They walked around with no weight to fill them, yet they squeaked like someone wore them. She turned from the possessed boots, but they started to follow her. It circled her until she leaped over the pair and headed towards the oak tree. The haunted boots galloped behind until it vanished.

The whimpering girl returned soon after.

"It's okay," Lola called out. "Those creepy boots disappeared!" The girl was not inside the cavity of the oak tree, nor was she around. "Where are you?" she looked through the thick fog, hoping to find her.

"Whyyy...?" Her words stretched like a rubber band and ended with a crack. "Why should I stay?"

The girl appeared behind Lola, causing her to yelp. The girl's shoulders hung low, and allowed her head to slant. Though she could not see her face, she felt her eyes studied her. Lola pinched herself, hoping to get out of the nightmare, but there was no success.

Again, this was no dream, much less a nightmare.

"Why?" the girl continued. "Why do you want to hurt me?"

Lola squeezed her eyes tight, unable to loosen her clenching fist. "Calm down," she mumbled. "You can't punch little girls, not even in your dreams." When she opened them, the girl was standing by the oak tree, drenched in water. Seeing the girl did not harm her, she decided to focus solely on answers. "Who are you?" she asked. "What's your name?"

"You're still here?" the girl responded in annoyance.

"Answer my question."

"Fine," she opened her mouth but clamped them when the ground shook. "I knew it, you're one of them!"

The marble floor started to crack as dozens of trees broke through like magic beanstalks. Among the sprouting vegetation, the girl dashed towards the trembling woman. Her bare feet slapped against the floor, ready to slam Lola into the ground. Her wavy hair dangled like a chandelier, brushing her knees with each step.

Lola marched back, seeking protection from the fog, but it started to evaporate. She covered her head as more tropical trees sprouted and ran for miles. The vigorous shake sprawled her balance. She groaned at her pulsing knees and elbows that took her weight. The girl soon caught up and turned her to her back.

"Where is it!" the girl wailed.

"Stop —" Lola tried to pull her small hands from her neck.

But the squeeze intensified. "Don't you know what I'm looking for?" the girl replied with a surprised look.

"No —" Lola choked. "I don't!"

The girl released her hold. She clenched two locks of her black hair and moved them apart. The light that broke through the tropical trees peered through a hole in her chest. Blood streamed down her stomach and trailed down her leg. Lola couldn't contain her scream.

"Where did it go! she wailed. "Have you seen it — did you take it?"

The arms that embraced Lola were back, but the girl had no plans to release her. She stood on her chest, while blood drizzled down Lola's neck.

"My heart!" Her bare foot pressed against her windpipe, forcing her to wheeze. "What happened to my heart!"

Underneath the girl's raven-black hair were two pair of indigo-colored eyes, beaming down at Lola. She wailed her arms around as the same syrupy darkness caused her to float. Instead of sinking, she was rising. Replacing the girl was a black cat, standing on her chest. Her yellowy eyes observed the confused Lola.

"Kinoki?" she gasped.

Though the dream was no more, she could not calm her relentless heart. It became one of the strangest experiences when she realized she was no longer in her bedroom. The clouds above her replaced her cream-colored ceiling. Her bed was replaced with sandy dirt that cracked from lack of water. Though she felt her sleeping gown, she wore her hiking boots followed by her heavy winter cloak. The dead grass surrounding her was not the forest she remembered, everything was devoid of life. The trees that once occupied the place were stumps, others crumbled into ash.

Lola's eyes followed the lining of the shadow. A sedimentary rock ahead was split at the center. It leaned at opposite angles as if to point, which was the way to go. Between the crack was an old woman. She sat with her legs gracefully underneath her butt. Strands of her silver hair hung in a disheveled manner that the passing wind teased.

Kinoki dipped her nose towards the ground, hoping to pick up the woman's scent. When she stood a foot from her, her black hair puffed up and forced her to release a mean growl. Within seconds, the cat's confidence faltered, and her tail tucked underneath her hind legs.

The woman was no seasonal hunter. Her dark red garments hung loosely over her shoulders, fit for a Greek painting. But with how torn they were, no one would paint her. The longer Lola examined the woman, the sooner she discovered the white hair fooled her. She was not old, but young. Her nose and cheeks were pink. A wrinkle folded over her forehead and led her eyelids to flutter. Sparkling blue eyes looked up at her.

"You are finally awake," she smiled.

# Chapter 12

First Contact

October 26, 2050

Whenever Avalon found sleep, it confronted her with a string of nightmares. Each one was a regretful decision, coming to Erolt, falling madly in love with Emperor Verus, and being the Advisors tool. But her greatest was leaving the protective Mountains of Sei. When she left, she confronted a cold Empire with her innocence and naïve mind. Now she was in an unfamiliar world, and Earth was her latest string of regret. When she arrived, the gel that protected her through the stars melted. As soon as her Helix opened, she vomited blood and fell to her knees. Every muscle ached, her lungs were collapsing as she was unable to breathe. When she crawled out, she was welcomed by spews of blue fire the crash emitted.

"Come on," she told her Helix.

But the rock wouldn't move. It had spent all of its energy and was now hanging on her strength. On the ground, she found dead things, birds. The survivors were perched on trees while others flew above. Avalon used her mind to communicate, but they were too angry to respond. They swooped down before she could get on her own two feet. She killed half of their family members, so their revenge was due. Among them was a calm and collected crow. He was a tad bit bigger from the rest.

"You're their leader," she told him with closed lips.

The Helix, though weak, activated in her defense and blocked the flying birds by pulsing what remained inside. Fearing it would die, Avalon told the Catarelia to stop. As soon as it did, the leader swung at her arm, where it saw her exposed skin. When it tasted Lenur blood, it cawed, and immediately all the crows swarmed at her.

"Wake up," a voice rang in her mind. It was Eibohn, the soundless entity who told her it was better to the Protective Mountains of Sei. "She is here."

"Let me stay a bit longer." She was her Ascending realm. It was the only place she could create a comfortable enough bed and was better than the boulder she was leaning against.

"Have you forgotten about Serenata?"

The name was enough to bring her back to the smell of Earth, the metallic taste in the air, and the green trees that shivered because she was killing them. What Eibohn saw on Earth, he shared with discriminating eyes. As her eyes opened, she found the human flickering her eyes with surprise.

This was it, the first contact.

Instead of coming off as the confident, all-knowing alien arriving on a strange planet, Avalon was just as surprised. The woman had brown hair. Having seen the colors of silver, grey, white, shadow, metal, stone. Her brown hair gave her a refreshing sight. The woman's lips moved and murmured, but her brown eyes preoccupied Avalon. They did not sparkle like her own, nor was there any quartz dust to surround her irises. The woman's skin was tanned, like the soil beneath her, like the mother of Emperor Verus.

The small creature that stood beside the woman started to growl. The animal impressed her because it mistrusted her. The shade of her gold-colored eyes reminded her of Raiyne. The feline sensed her awareness.

"You don't belong here," she told her. "Leave."

"I thought you creatures were mute," responded Avalon, all while her lips pursed a smile. "Very interesting, the others did not talk so easily to us."

The message between them carried no voice. No dependence on the throat to communicate, but the act was dangerous. When a speechless thought connected, the sender and receiver were vulnerable. Avalon learned the creature was female, not yet a year old, and her name was Kinoki. In return, the cat received information, but her age disturbed her.

"You are quite furry," Avalon replied. "What sort of creature are you?"

"You already know my name," she responded. "Let's leave it at that." Kinoki wagged her tail back and forth. Her upper lip lifted, revealing her fangs. "Why did you make her walk in her sleep? What are you trying to do?"

"I'll keep that to myself." Avalon moved her attention to the brown-haired woman. She sent her a speechless through but was given no response. She sent another, leaving the woman replying with blinks.

"She will not answer," said Kinoki. "Humans are incapable of that ability. They communicate through speech, body language, and symbols."

The human fidgeted with the device she brought from her pocket, bringing Avalon's attention to it. Eibohn was right. Their existence relies on what he calls digital technology. She knew the device was a communicator. She had to if she wanted to disturb its function. If the human contacted her people like she did before, it would be problematic. Since it was better to kill one person than a band of Forest rangers, she took Kinoki's advice seriously.

"This has to be another dream!" The woman sparked, giving Avalon no room to speak. She bit her thumb and looked at her surroundings. "It has to be a dream."

Though Eibohn was now an entity, a floating conscious, he still had his abilities. It was he who put the human into a deep sleep and led her through the forest. But he could not wake the sleeping maiden. The act fractured her sense of time. Whatever strange experience she was undergoing, she had to go through it to escape.

"You're in no dream." Avalon's tone was detached, cold, and careless. She couldn't behave in anything that wasn't a synonym to depravity. Yes. Deprived of hope, life, and opportunity. With a weak Helix, she was stuck on a planet vacant of Catarelias. The woman stepped towards her. The faint blood brought the look of pity on her face, and it infuriated Avalon. You don't deserve to pity me. If the heavens were sympathetic, she would have avoided the blue planet. The woman unbuttoned the cloak and pulled back her hood. Her round belly froze over Avalon's irritation.

"It's chilly." The woman covered her with her black cloak, nestling the fabric under her chin like she was a child.

"You are pregnant?" she asked. The heat from the cloak regulated her overworking heart. She didn't ask for kindness. Now it made her uncomfortable.

The woman curled a smile and placed one hand over her abdomen. But it was out of Avalon's hands. Her condition wouldn't change her plan. Subdue the human, kill her, and take over her body using a forbidden skill she learned from Braightnos. He named the skill after himself and taught her so she wouldn't report him to the Advisors. She didn't, but his fate didn't turn out well in the end.

Avalon closed her eyes to evaluate her power. It traveled through her veins and pumped through the six chambers of her heart. Her carbon-based cells combined and animated to 30 per centum. Though urgency was her motivation, she could not keep her eyes from the woman's stomach. When she noticed, she looked away to ease her breathing, not wanting to get the human overexcited.

The woman leaned towards Avalon. She didn't realize blood was oozing from her nose until she used her own sleeve to wipe it off.

"Hold your head up," she instructed, but Avalon resisted.

"I'm fine."

"You know you're not."

The woman pressed her palm to her forehead to keep Avalon's chin in the air, preventing the blood from flowing out. It was unexpected to be cared for. The cells that burned and multiplied detected Avalon's doubt and settled, allowing the blood pressure that made her nose bleed relaxed. How can you loosely care? Avalon said in her mind. Don't you know that trust is a one-way lane to death? Not even the Empire had allies outside its borders, so the woman's act was strange, foolish, but strange.

A familiar tree caught Lola's attention. She gazed at it for a while longer until she was sure. "That willow tree is not far from my home!" She inspected it among the unfruitful field with Kinoki faithfully followed her steps.

Avalon returned to her task. Her cells rose to 45 per centum. The increase in mitosis was notable. But she needed more. The skill of Braightnos was the transfer of souls. That was how Braightnos himself escaped his captors. To avoid his execution, he killed one guard and entered his corpse. He was always afraid of his skill until he had no choice but to use it.

"My name is Lola." The woman returned. This time she kept a safe distance. "What is your name?"

How rude. How can humans exchange names so plainly? Avalon sighed after reminding herself that Lola was not a Lenur. And that was a good thing.

"Aveyonari Sahmes."

"What — what was that?"

"Aveyonari Sahmes, what's so difficult about my name?"

"Say it without urgency, break it into parts."

"Ah-veh-yoh-nah-ri-sa-mes," she enunciated.

"Ahh...vee...va...yo marse." Lola was incapable of expanding her tongue. Avalon asked her to give up, holding no patience for the babbles. "I used to be good tongue twisters, now my pride is a little hurt."

The confession made her smile, but she forced a frown, hating that it caused a reaction out of her. "It's not a common name," she admitted. "But you don't need to say my name to speak to me."

"Maybe I can shorten it to make it easier."

Why does it matter to you, woman? There's no need to try!

"How about I call you Ave? No. That won't work. What does your name mean?"

Avalon groaned, "You will not give up, will you?" Her curiosity was naïve, as was her interest in a language she failed to pronounce. "It means fruitful island."

"Fruitful island?" Lola said, voicing her disbelief.

Alas, another insult dampened the esteemed view Avalon held for her. Lola's mistrust in her name was worse than her poor pronunciation. Who is she to decide if such a name suits me? I must defend this.

"We see an island as a place of solitude. It leads one to live a confined life. The first part, Aveyonari, means island. Sames means fruitful because of my...aptitudes."

"Now, you made it more complicated." She was ready to give up and admit defeat until her mouth dropped. Her eyes wrinkled a smile. "Avalon!"

"Avalon?" she repeated. "It sounds nothing like my name."

"I owned one of the many versions of the King Arthur stories. But I didn't finish the tale. My mother used the poor book to keep the missing leg of her dresser from tilting. Avalon was the island King Arthur retreated after his last battle of Camlann."

The word King shot a painful nerve. Eibohn didn't tell her there was a King Arthur on Earth, so she concluded it was a folktale. The silence and lacking feedback made Lola apologize, admitting the name was silly.

"No, I am pleased," Avalon answered with hesitancy. A fake one was inferior to her sacred name, but she couldn't discontinue the human's interest in her. She had to adopt an alternative name. "You may call me Avalon."

"All right, Avalon, where is your group?"

"Group?"

"You came to the forest to hunt, haven't you?" Lola concluded she somehow lost her way. She waited for the pale-faced woman to confirm her inaccurate conclusion.

But it was not easy to deny or admit. Lying robbed Avalon of her natural abilities. It was one of her weaknesses, hence why she called it a curse. To do the things she wouldn't repeat, she needed a heart of stone and an empty mind.

"There is no group," she replied with a brief delay. "I am on my own,"

"Is your camping ground nearby?"

"No, but I arrived last month."

As if they shared a secret. Lola looked at Kinoki, but she didn't look back. Sensing the threat before her, the cat was upset. But she could not warn her friend of the danger.

"Do you see those yellow aspens and that gigantic oak?" Lola said. "They're identical to the trees I see from the kitchen window."

"I will not go."

"But, you're bleeding."

"You don't understand what's happening." Avalon clamped her teeth underneath her pressed lips. "Time is more important to me than your journey home." The matter was more severe than that. The Maiden of Death stood among them. Having cheated death many times, the representative had become impatient.

"Avalon," continued Lola. "We need to get back before it gets dark. You don't know how strange these forests have become." She crossed her arms and stared at the trees in the distance. She described with horror in her eyes the crater, the dead crows, the blue flames, and the trail of blood. Her voice sank as her mind connected the puzzles and looked at Avalon with shaken eyes.

"Are you implying something?" she interrupted.

"I'm not!"

But her unsettled voice forced Avalon to release a shaky laugh. It was yet too soon to untie the knot in the human's mind, but she wasn't far from unveiling it on her own. If she bolted for the forest, Avalon decided she would confine her. But the aftermath might turn out too much for her, but it wouldn't matter. If she dies, that will be on her.

"I suppose I haven't recovered from my paranoia." Lola looked averted her eyes to avoid the knot. "It all started the night the meteorite fell."

"At least you were kind enough to send help."

"What did you say?" Lola analyzed Avalon's pupils, having just realized her eyes were different. Her irises rippled around her tiny pupil and sparkling with sapphire dust.

Avalon thought Eibohn was considerate to clothe Lola before he made her leave her home. For safety, he made her carry a long slim weapon he called a shotgun. It had no sharp objects, so how could it inflict mortal wounds?

"Last month, I heard the strangest sound," she looked at her weapon. "Did it come from the metal pole in your hand?"

Lola took a shaky step back, ready to sprint any second. Truth-telling worked in Avalon's favor. Though it debased her prey's sense of reality, her cells were dividing at a rapid rate.

"What..." choked Lola. "What are you?"

"I am not human," Avalon said plainly.

Kinoki growled. "You need to stop," she demanded. "You're upsetting her."

"It wouldn't be fair if I stop," Avalon replied. "If wickedness caused humans to lose their peace with your kind, it is not my fault. Your friend deserves the disadvantage."

Kinoki's fur electrified from the shoulders to the tip of her tail. "You don't know her as I do, and she is no trespasser like you." She meowed at her companion, but she was unable to warn her of the danger.

"I thought you would behave more erratic," Avalon sparked. "Ignorance must be a human's way to defend themselves from their insecurity. Have you also sunken to believe life came from nothing?"

"You need help." Lola returned to her phone like it was the answer to her problems, but the call for aid was in vain.

"I grew fond of the various languages here, but I could not understand the reading portion. Eibohn learned it with ease, but I told him not to take the books from your home."

Lola's eyes widened for a short while. But they settled to look uninterested. The negligence did not bother Avalon, not when she was at 70 per centum. The truth increased her generating ability. It surged through her skin, giving her fragile state some strength. She hoped the human would run so she could get it over with.

"Do you remember your birth?" Avalon asked. The life inside Lola's stomach grabbed her attention once more. "I remember mine. Memories are crucial for our kind."

Lola ignored her and looked at which side of the mountains was facing her. She then analyzed the forest for the best direction that will lead her home.

"Nobody will believe you," Avalon said. "They will regard everything as a lie." She created an optical illusion long before she entered the solar system and hid among the asteroid belts. It should have concealed her presence from all life forms.

At 80 per centum, Avalon's heart rapidly pulsated. Braightnos required her commitment. Though it pressurized her energy, it was like two hands clasped to keep the water from running. Leaks were bounded to occur.

"Your chest looks like it's about to explode." Lola breathed in the revolting oxygen and converted it into the atoms that made the Avalon head spin.

It reminded her of her declining state and angered her as a result. She gave her a stare she should have kept secret. She looked at Earthling like a predator observed its prey before it dug its teeth into the major artery. The physical strain of combusting cells stretched through her capillaries, extending to her skin like the roots of a tree. Sweat dripped on the sides of her temples.

"I apologize," she sang, trying not to alarm her. "But I'm out of options."

Lola should have sprinted for her life, but Avalon miscalculated. She came towards her instead. Perhaps she will make use of that weapon to take my life. Avalon gripped her fist in case she did. If I release just a fraction of this burning energy, all my effort will go in vain. Just the slightest ill-thought could blow one of her legs. She gritted her teeth as the cells brought her veins to surface on her temple.

"Stop this," urged Lola. She bent and extended her trembling hand towards Avalon's abdomen. "You're stressing your little one."

Avalon was about to reach 100 per centum. She didn't know how the human discovered she was pregnant, but her concern divided her. Her mind chanted, "Stop being kind to me. Be cruel, make me hate you." The night she arrived, she cried enough tears to quench a dying thirst. Now she spilled them like a river hoping to carve a new path.

The startled Lola released her shaking hold from Avalon's abdomen. She could no longer deny it. It was the melting heat from the night the meteorite landed. Her partial smile faded as her trembling legs helped her turn away. She followed the colored trees she pointed out and decided it was worth taking the risk than staying.

"I cannot let you abandon us, not like this!" Avalon cried at her back. "I will end you!" She extended her hand so she could release what she cultivated. Her shoulders shuddered with anger while her hair defied gravity, swirling around her tear-stained cheeks. But seconds went by without a consequence. When Lola disappeared into the congested forest, she dropped her arm in defeat.

"Unbelievable," she said while her eyes found the sky. "Was it guilt? No, I'm not a hypocrite."

She rested her head on the boulder. Her frown smiled, then it turned into laughter. She knew it since she saw the round shape. Deep in her heart, she couldn't harm her. Having killed many for Emperor Verus and his Advisors. Having slit the throat of those who tried to take her life. She couldn't take an innocent one, not even to save her daughter.

"This imprudent curse," Avalon uttered as her eyes shut. "I hate you."

The cells that burned and cultivated inside her were unique. Sometimes they could be seen coursing through her veins as little dots of gold. Those were the little things that gave her strength and made her into an unrelenting warrior. But her weakness, her curse, was a moral conscious. Some time ago, the same power controlled her ancestor. The conscious wasn't self-created, and it was no skill like Braightnos. It also couldn't be called an entity, not like Eibohn, for he still remembered his name. The power she wished she could discard belonged to someone, but it was given to them.

# Chapter 13

Conflicting Emotions

The sun leaned towards the mountains to mix an auburn gloom on the sky. Avalon gazed at the warm shade for a while longer until she heard the gentle steps of the Maiden of Death. She walked barefooted on the cracked dirt holding the scythe she thought was a gift. She called Avalon by her full name and reminded her it was too late to protest.

"Foolish," her silver eyes told her. "The human was your last chance." The Maiden of Death had the voice of a teenaged girl, but she was beyond her years. Time erased her reflection, so she forgot her own face. "Why did you let her go?"

"It wouldn't be right," Avalon replied. "I'm a mother." She first met the Maiden of Death in the capital, where Demptness took the souls of many citizens. There she watched the woman glide by, separating the souls of the dead from their domain, their Ascending realm. A realm, thought Avalon, she cuts the realm to free the soul.

"Eibohn," whispered the Maiden of Death. "Is he with you? I cannot sense him in Osois."

This time Avalon gazed ahead, pretending the woman in silver garments was a phantom. Inside her mind was the entity who told her not to answer.

"Eibohn," replied Avalon. "Are humans born with their soul intact?"

"Why do you want to know?"

She left the answer to herself. What she pondered was a spur of tarnished hope. At Osois, she could endure the coldest temperature. Now the chill of the forest made her shoulders tremble. She didn't complain because her reserves of energy kept her daughter alive. To shield her, she breathed in the poison in the atmosphere and spared her the pollutants. It couldn't be her daughter's fault that she was here. No one could choose their mother.

"I'm sorry you had to listen to that," she said out loud. Her unborn child was listening to their fiery words the entire time. She looked at the blood on her garments that once carried her pride. "I suppose that was why I told that woman memories are vital to our kind. Our self-awareness is dependent on the old and wise. I hope you hold on to that belief because I am only alive because of your great-grandmother."

"What about my grandmother and my grandfather?" The voice was a little girl, around five years old.

"My mother was a warrior, and my father was an Elite. His life-duty was to serve Emperor Verus and its people. It is one of the highest honors to have in the Empire."

"Is that why you left to live with my great-grandmother?"

"No," Avalon looked at her hands, seeing the tiny streams of light nobody could see with the naked eye, swimming through her veins. "I revitalized an ancient ability one of our ancestors carried. My father should have killed me when Famira told him. And if he couldn't do it, his colleagues would fulfill that task in his name. But he and Mother kept me a secret."

Avalon covered her nose underneath the cloak Lola put on her. The wind nudged her for another shiver. She remembered how her parents argued every night, sharing their fears of what her life would become. The one who didn't share an ounce of opinion was Famira. She sang March of the Few. It was the only song worth singing during hard times.

Avalon closed her eyes and sang it herself.

March of the Few

Oh God, please keep at bay

For if you were to leave my sight

I will inevitably fade

No one sees the rivers on my cheek

Oh, if the sky was visible tonight

Hope is revived

No one sees the rivers on my cheek

I am not a lifeless memory in your heart

But a fire consuming the dark

No more rivers on my cheek

Click here to listen to March of the Few.

When Avalon opened her eyes, she met her audience. Neither the human nor the cat said a word to her. Instead, they stared while allowing the passing wind to come between them. A bag hung loosely over Lola's shoulder. She adjusted it, breathed in, and approached her.

"You have a lovely singing voice," she said. "It felt like I stepped into a dream."

Avalon didn't care for compliments. What made her come back? Perhaps she wants to finish me for threatening her. She looked at Kinoki. If danger was imminent, she would find it in her mind.

"If you want to kill me, do not try," she warned. "Your planet is doing a swell job already."

"Lola is no murderer." The feline replied. "Not like you."

"And what makes you think I am what you claim?"

"The blood between your legs is yours, but the bloodstain on your chest does not belong to you."

Before Avalon could applaud Kinoki's observation, Lola revealed a vacuum flask from her bag. She then took out two mugs and poured the hot content. When she offered the red one, Avalon refused, suspecting it to be poison. But Lola didn't accept her answer. She placed one of her shivering hands to hold the side of the mug and brought the other. The steam tickled her face, while her stomach begged for it. But Avalon took no action. She examined the cook instead to see if she carried the eyes of a murderer. Instead of a sinister smile, she got a spoon. Her sigh admitted her hunger, so she took a bite. The spices revived the bland taste on her tongue. The green and orange cubes with colorful soft grains tickled her palate. Her daughter shared her joy when the nutrients reached her.

"It's wild rice and vegetable soup," Lola said before she started to eat.

They sat with their eyes averted away from each other. Their lips slurping the broth entertained the silence between them. Kinoki curled her body against Lola, who couldn't take another bite. She exhaled and looked at her.

"I walked by the crater again. Your flying machine doesn't look like a prop, and your words, they still make me anxious."

"It's no machine." Before continuing, Avalon drank the broth empty. "It is a catarelia, a living rock. Mine is special. A Helix if you must know, but you wouldn't understand what that means. It must be shrinking as we speak."

"I thought so." Lola thought she imagined it. "When I first saw it, it was much wider."

"I'm sure it's not bigger than you right now," Avalon guessed. "It mirrors my health. A catarelia fuses with the person it meets, and anchors to their Ascending realm. When I die, it will no longer remain visible to the naked eye."

"It wasn't easy finding my way home." Lola shifted her focus to her cat, reserving a warm smile for her. "Without Kinoki leading the way, I don't think I would have made it back."

"Did you encounter a sort of black birds from the forest?"

"Oh, the crows." Her brown eyes widen with confirmation. "I found most of them lying dead around the crater. I didn't think there would be survivors, but they returned and perched around the trees that surround the crater. A bunch harassed us for a good distance."

"I expected so." Avalon rolled up her torn caspedian sleeve, revealing a wound that turned brittle and dark. "Those crows want this."

"They want to eat you?"

Avalon rolled her torn sleeve back. "I would be careful of them. Especially the big one. He is their leader."

"They're just birds."

"Birds who shouldn't have tasted a person like me." Avalon set aside the empty cup. "You shouldn't have come back. Do you not understand your situation?"

"I don't." Lola's eyes narrowed. "And you shouldn't say it to scare me."

"I wasn't speaking to you," Avalon's eyes dropped at her stomach. "I was talking to the human inside you. To think you Earthlings can grow in the womb with their souls intact. Since I can't kill you. Your child will become my perfect vessel."

A solid slap stung Avalon's face. She was speechless for being careless to not have noticed the incoming blow. But Lola had to spill good soup to reach her cheek. Her hands shook, eager to strike one more time, so Avalon invited her. Instead, she stepped back and rubbed her pulsing hand.

"Say whatever you want to me, but leave my child out of your dilemma!" Her shout left a commanding echo. The birds who sang in the distance turned silent. She looked away to wipe her eyes and calm her anger.

The hot mark on Avalon's cheek flared her anger. "You are bold," she said. "If you knew what I could do to you. You would think twice to keep that hand from crossing my cheek."

"Do you honestly believe you're special? That your life's problem should involve my child?"

"It's purpose! My child must live!"

"As my own!" Lola stormed back. "You made a choice that led you here. But I had none of it when I moved, and I wouldn't have come to this state if it meant I would see your flying rock." She gripped the fabric that touched her chest. "The father of my child could break through my door any day and kill me. Now you want to do the same?"

Perhaps Avalon was intolerant of her because she was different, a form of thinking created by culture, not nature. Now she wondered if she misjudged her. But her defensive words stung her like her cheek.

"I did not waltz out of my home planet because I wished it to be so." She rubbed the pulse on her cheek. "Why did you come back?"

"I came because..." Lola almost didn't have the answer until she remembered. It was her warm cabin and Kinoki at her side. "Nobody should be alone. I know too much of that."

Avalon scoffed as if she was the only one. "As do I."

The women locked their gaze at one another. For a second, they found their own reflection in their eyes.

"Now answer my question," said Lola. "Why did you come here?"

Avalon's glittery eyes moved to the Cascade Mountains. Her eyelashes were as thick as the bristle of a paintbrush. If she was going to answer, it couldn't be here. She was tired of the phonetic groupings of vowel and consonant sounds. And their shouting match didn't help.

"Lay on your back," she said, having decided. "You look tired."

"I don't think I want to."

"But looking at you from the ground hurts my neck."

Lola was about to deliver her second no, but her legs bent and eased to the ground without her say. She whimpered and resisted the autonomous movements. The chilly October that numbed her face switched to an unbearably hot June.

"I recognize this heat." Like the fiery flash of a woman's menopause, it felt more concentrated on her face, neck, and chest. "Avalon, stop." She squinted, finding her vision blurred. "Why is it so hot?"

"Hush, I will answer your question soon." When the Lenur opened her eyes, they were glowing. "Consider what I'm about to show you, my thanks for the soup."

# Chapter 14

Memory Lane

Anyone who thought of extraterrestrials would think of green skin, oval heads, and beady black eyes. But Avalon shared the same features as a human. Her straight nose had the norm, nostrils with two openings she needed to breathe through. Her lips were a shy pink and plumped like a doll. Her short hair curved around her face like strips of silk, and her eyebrows were dark and sharp. She ate with such elegance and poise, Lola felt she was a messy toddler. What didn't fit the puzzle were her clothes. Someone pulled the seams apart and shredded the sleeves.

She hoped cameras would pop out of the forest to show it was all a prank. Among them would be the makeup artist who left smeared blood paint on Avalon. The costume designers would bow, proud of strategically pulling the seams of her garments to create a disheveled woman. Dr. Graham would be the director, and Avalon would admit she was a professional actress. But no troupe of actors came out.

"Open your eyes," Avalon told her.

"No," Lola retorted.

"Look and see."

Underneath her feet was an expanding blue globe. Fearing she would fall into Earth's atmosphere. She kicked, not knowing it was an illusion. But her swinging arms turned her upside down.

Avalon was a voice until she leaped into existence. When she found Lola's rotated posture, she waved her hand and turned her back to an upright position. Since she was no longer bounded to the floor, she stood dignified. Her clothes were also whole. The burgundy cloth draped over her chest was made to overlap in layers. The black material with tiny stones that wrapped around her neck to her feet had a smoother shine. They twinkled from the light that bounced from Earth.

"There was no heat in your cabin," she confessed. "It was in your head. Your mind is unable to comprehend my skill, but the exposure made your body interpret it as heat."

"And where are we?" It was the second time she found defying gravity.

"A special place. This is where my soul once resided before I was born." Avalon walked around her. Now that she was no longer bound to the ground. She moved her hand to her forehead to see which of them was taller. "Our memories are stored here. That is why I brought you, I want you to understand."

"Thank you for your offer, but I had enough of out-of-body experiences. Which way is the exit?"

Avalon was unable to listen, she was wondering where she could begin. She could start with how Lenurs are born, what happens to them at puberty, and what makes them fall in love. Then there was the origin of her planet, and why nine years of winter made it difficult for her to adapt to Earth.

"Have you forgotten about your health?" Lola crossed her arms in defiance, telling her she was wasting her time. "Your catarelia is shrinking —"

"We are the Lenur," began Avalon. Her index finger aimed towards a white planet. It approached them with curls of clouds, and a ring of dust surrounded the exosphere and white terrains. By comparison, it was three times the size of her blue planet.

"That is Osois, it means sleep. For nine years, it lies covered by ice and snow. But in the tenth year, the heavenly year, it returns to the clouds, and spring takes reign. We grow in the womb for five Earth years until we matured our intelligence."

A woman suddenly appeared before them. Her stomach was round and bulged out of her grey robe. Some of her facial features reminded Lola of Avalon, but it wasn't her at all. She couldn't see them, as she was just a memory.

"When we are conceived, our soul resides in a collected plane that is separated from our bodies. In your language, we call it the Ascending realm. The soul and body do not merge until we are born. When we die, the Maiden of Death separates us once more, so we may rest." Avalon's eyes lowered to Lola's abdomen. "Humans, I learned, don't have such a thing. You are born with it intact, and you die with it."

When the woman before them evaporated, Lola's blue planet followed. The prime focus was Osois, but the descent was taking too long for Avalon's liking. She forced them to drop at such a rapid state. Lola yelped, thinking she would burn when they entered the atmosphere. She gripped Avalon's arm to brace herself. But the moment she touched her, something unveiled itself. She shut her eyes from the flashing imagery that screamed painful thoughts and day-to-day encounters. Like the Helix, the Ascending realm fed Lola more than a lifetime of memories. In return, Avalon was exposed to hers. Everything they had ever experienced was handed without explanation, without permission, and without privacy.

Avalon trembled as she saw a woman scream at the top of her voice and call her worthless. She then shuddered when a man forced her on the bed. In return, Lola couldn't make a sound. Countless wars were flashing before her. She then found herself alone in a room, watching the sunrise. Tears began filtered their eyes until they pulled away from another.

"What was that?" Lola gasped, fearing the air left her.

"It seems like you saw my memories. And I saw..." Avalon couldn't say it. But it was a younger Lola, standing on the lawn as her mother threw her clothes on the grown. "I saw yours."

"What do you know?"

"A lot," she admitted. "Your mother's frightening voice. The bruises your husband gave you and a...Ms. Clarisse."

The name alone made Lola's tears return. While she landed on an alien planet. She felt naked by what the stranger saw without her consent. Though could she be called one if she knew her past?

"And what did you see inside me?" Avalon was more curious than insecure.

"Not much." The parts came like a blur. Because Avalon lived a long life, she could not unfold them in one sitting. What she did know was that Avalon's child was a little girl, and her name was Serenata.

Lola looked around so she could avoid talking about it. It was as if she was in her own forest, except the pine trees ran for miles towards the sky. The stillness she lost back on Earth lingered in the cool air and among the bed of snow. A tiny crunch of snow shifted her focus behind Avalon. A little girl was passing by. Her arms were outstretched, and her bottom lip was buried underneath her upper teeth. A sheer white dress and white tunic covered her body, and the leather that ran up the knee was held together by twine. She should have suffered from frostbite, but Lenurs were not bothered by chilly temperatures. She grazed her feet before taking a step, just to be double sure the snow would secure her weight.

"That child is me," confessed Avalon. "I was trying to keep myself from sinking."

Lola touched the white ice. Though it was an illusion, it was real, cold, and soft. She grabbed a handful, feeling a little cheated. She wanted to experience her first snowfall on Earth, not Osois.

"We are in the far region of the Mountain of Sei." Avalon trailed on by mentioning a long-lost war. "They say the first people of these mountains were captives, perhaps slaves are the better word. None were allowed to act on their own."

"Uh-huh." Lola dug her fingertips into the snow and formed it into a ball. Her eyes steadied at Avalon. The silver-haired Lenur was oblivious of her temptations. Like a perfect target, she was unaware, burying herself with her story.

Lola closed one eye.

The snowball shouldn't go to waste.

She aimed and released.

Avalon's mouth clamped in mid-sentence. Her earnest eyes widened, sensing something was coming her way. Before she could react, it smacked the side of her head. Lola covered her mouth, withholding her laugh with a grin.

"I always wanted to do that."

Avalon dusted the powder off her head without a word.

"Come on," she teased. "There's no way the years you spent on this planet you people lost the fun in snowball fights." But she shrieked when a ball of snow hit her shoulder. "I'm pregnant!"

"So am I." Avalon was glaring at her offense until she smiled. "But you forget that we are in my Ascending realm."

Now they both smiled until they exposed their teeth. Lola reached for the snow and delivered shots. She ran for shelter behind the giant trees. At the same time, Avalon used her supernatural speed, caught up, and hit Lola on the back.

As she was about to prepare her next round of ammunition. The young Avalon missed her step, her entire body sank into the snow. Her tiny fingers wiggled for a way out. Lola was about to reach out to her until the bed of snow melted. Another pale but slender woman with braids that ran down to her ankles saved the young girl and carried her on her hip.

"That is my grandmother, Famira." Avalon dropped her snowball, big enough to fit the head of a snowman. "She was a citizen of the Empire. But after my father was born, Eibohn called her into the wilderness. Leaving without permission was treason, but she did it anyway. When I was born, it was she who took me in. We hid by manipulating our energy to match the small and weak creatures in the wilderness. But my secluded life in the Mountains of Sei ended when the Empire fell under attack by Tale'd, our foreign adversary. We kept our distance as the enemy entered our mountains. We did not know a dark skill known as Demptness engulfed the capital, Erolt. Demptness is a fog that, once inhaled, pushes your soul from your body."

When they made some distance, the memory of Famira started to hum March of The Few to her granddaughter. When they vanished, Avalon knew where to make Lola understand. The landscape warped until they stood on a balcony made of bricks larger than the Ponderosa. Etched into the stone were tiny rocks of gold. Lola leaned over the balcony, finding the air in her lungs shrink. They were leaning from a mountain, the Mountain of Sei. Below was a city made of white stone. They were so high, the passing fog kept her from seeing the architecture.

"Through my father, I carry the line of our ancient ancestors, once called the winged folk. To save the Empire from Demptness, Famira and I went out of hiding." The arm Avalon used to brush her hair trembled. The memory she was about to share was a bittersweet road to her ill fate. "I am one of the many wives of Emperor Verus. The immortal ruler of these lands."

"Immortal?" Lola couldn't grasp that one.

"No Lenur has lived this long or preserved their youth like him, all we know is that he's the last of the Singing-folk."

The fog grew into an unpleasant grey. It resembled the smoke of a newly made fire. At dusk, Demptness reached the peaking mountains like a plague. The scholars who knew of every skill could not deflect a spell they never studied. Behind Demptness were the cries of a survivor that could be heard from the balcony.

"Famira and I fell into a dilemma. Do we let Erolt meet its fate, or do we come to its aid? If we did nothing, Tale'd would claim the lands and keep no survivors. Famira knew my heart's desire was to save my parents. Eibohn offered his advice. He said protecting the Empire will take the lives of many Lenurs but free many souls. His words were not convincing, but he suggested we help."

"We left the outer regions of the Mountains of Sei and set out for the Empire. Erolt was worse than we thought. Piles of corpses covered the streets. They dropped one after another while others vanished with the fog. Those carrying a mutation against the effects did not perish. They turned insane among the fights that broke in every household. The city echoed with the moans of the survivors. Many of them were children.

"To get inside the palace, Famira and I used her skill of invisibility and hid like a cloak. We avoided the panicked guards and the Emperor's wives. We walked through many rooms until we found Emperor Verus on this same balcony. When the dark fog grew near, he watched his Empire fall with settled eyes."

Avalon went on about the ruined capital while pressing her fingertips on her heart. She wouldn't look at the entrance, so Lola did in her stead. A man dressed in white trousers and a long tunic joined the balcony. They laced a silver cloak that hung from his back with gold stones. On his head were two jewels that protruded from his ear and hung with crystals at his side. His fine white hair fell over his shoulders, and his skin was as pale as Avalon's.

His eyes frightened Lola.

They were red with glowing particles surrounding his iris.

"When I laid my eyes on him. I felt my heart would rip through my chest." Her cheeks warmed. "The profile of his face warped my senses, while his presence weakened me. The ruby dust swirled around his pupil commanded my respect."

The Emperor leaned over the balcony and watched the fog coming closer by the second. He hummed the same tune as Famira. When she uncloaked herself and appeared before him. The Emperor moved from the balcony with a slight surprise by her presence.

"What brings you to my palace?" he smiled. "Lost daughter of the Elites."

"Come out," said Famira behind her.

The invisibility protecting the Avalon of the past faded. It surprised Lola to see she was no younger than her current self. The difference was that her silver hair was long and pass her knees. Her eyes wouldn't leave ground. They trembled, sensing Emperor Verus's power. The Emperor, who was entertained when he saw Famira, looked at Avalon with a frown.

"You're behaving rudely," Famira warned. "Greet Lord Verus."

The young Avalon licked her lips and slowly raised her chin. When her sapphire eyes met his ruby eyes, the frown on the Emperor worsened. His lips were pressed against one another as if her face offended him. For a commoner, she was looking longer than she needed. But the teary-eyed Avalon, who had seen traveling men pass by the forest, had never seen one so handsome.

"Draw your eyes to the floor!" ordered Famira. "And introduce yourself."

Before Avalon could pronounce her name, the Emperor's wives finally sensed them. They surrounded Famira and Avalon with glares that were an invitation to death. But there was no time for explanation. The fog was approaching the balcony. The wives pulled the Emperor away, leaving Famira and Avalon to confront the danger.

"The secret is out." Famira boldly stared at Demptness while she pressed her granddaughter's shoulders. "Let the gift take over." When she moved away, Avalon leaped into the deathlike enchantment.

"The enchantment could not pull me." Lola looked at the Avalon of today. She was so entranced she had forgotten it was a memory. "Demptness was made with malicious intent, but the cells inside me were the opposite. Eventually, one of us had to overcome the other."

The young Avalon only had to breathe to invite the fog in. It started to ignore the rest because it wanted to corrupt her. While it entered her body, she could hear the cries of the dead, begging her to set them free. By having a deathly encounter, the Maiden of Death appeared. But no one but Avalon could see her. She readied her scythe, not to strike her but to free the imprisoned souls. Avalon breathed more of the fog until she saw a pair of eyes blinking at her. When she pointed in that direction, the Maiden of Death struck, and the fog vanished.

Avalon stood at the balcony as she watched the spasms of light left to meet their Creator. When she turned around, she smiled at her proud grandmother. Next would follow a scene of gratitude, as it would to any tale. But the Emperor's wives shoved Avalon to the floor. One of them placed her entire foot to her cheek and pressed her gums through her teeth. Instead of meeting the ground, Famira was escorted inside. Though her mouth was unable to move, she still managed to beg for her.

"Call me foolish, but I fell for him the instant we met eyes." Avalon lowered her eyes, almost in shame. "But in the next, I hated him. They imprisoned me for a year and separated me from my grandmother. When my trials began, I begged to return to the outer forests and pled for her account as she was still not with me. But I quickly learned then that the Emperor's Advisors had no sense of pity. But I was also naïve, I didn't think they would discover the revival of my ancestors and that I was a Winged-folk. When they decided on having me beheaded, Emperor Verus surprised me. He denied their request. He attended all of my trials, and those distant eyes you saw in the balcony started to turn warm. I couldn't free myself from his allure, but I made sure I covered them with hate. When the Advisor's judgment did not influence him. He ended the trials by telling them he would decide my fate. I feared the Maiden of Death, so when I was told of my only option, I married Emperor Verus."

A grand hall with arched ceilings that took the shape of a tree was the entryway. The Avalon of the past wore a lengthy gown that two women helped carry from the back.

It looked nothing less than a wedding.

"A week before my wedding, the advisors put me through a rotten trial to make me barren." Avalon's eyes watered up, seeing her old self staring ahead in anger. Bold but unaware of the heavy burdens she would carry. "I lived in the palace, hating Verus for everything he and the Advisors put me through. Most of that hatred burned for the Advisors. Once I passed the Elite academy, they sent me on difficult missions in hopes I would be mortally wounded. One of them took me to a remote village. A pair of twin boys had lost control of their rite of passage. They murdered many citizens, warriors, and among them, one Elite. They put up a superb fight. Even with their hearts overtaking them, they held on to one another in their battle to preserve each other's lives. I didn't think the boys were a lost cause. They were difficult to take down because they had not yet succumbed to their sanity. All they needed was patience and guidance, but my orders were to kill them, not help them.

"It proved my loyalty to the Empire. As a reward, I received the privilege of entering many private floors from within the palace. I used that freedom to look at the census. I hoped to reunite with my parents and save Famira. But then I found a very detailed report, I learned that my parents died during my imprisonment. What I didn't know was that they had children after me, twin boys."

Lola felt a dark pit in her stomach, but what Avalon said made a deeper hole.

"Verus knew I was their sister," she couldn't look at her when she said it. "I hated and despised him for it. I confronted him and invited him to kill me. But he dismissed me from his presence as if what I said were soundless words."

The longer Lola stayed in Avalon's Ascending realm, the more vivid her memories became. She eventually gained a respectful title. But deep down, she was unhappy and emotionally detached. The Advisors relentlessly conspired against her. Many of her sister-wives hated her. She didn't know why until she discovered Emperor Verus stopped inviting them to his chamber after Demptness.

"Why?" Lola asked as she pressed her fingers to her temple. "Why are you and your sister wives not allowed to carry his child?" She fell to the ground as the memories came flooding and flattening her like a rolling pin. Avalon tried to reassure her while she whimpered. "Make it stop."

"I can't," she answered. "Perhaps we should go back."

"No, wait!"

A sister-wife as old as Famira ordered her to kill Serenata. Avalon screamed and pushed her against the wall. But she quickly withdrew as she attacked and apologized. Instead, the woman kicked her aside and left to make the report. Every step she made tormented her.

"That's enough, we are leaving," said Avalon. She took her head and helped her to her feet, but Lola jerked her hand back.

The Avalon of the past was shadowing her steps. But before she dug her nails through her throat, the woman ducked. They wrestled until the sister-wife tore Avalon's clothes to shame her. She pulled a short dagger from her hip, and cut her long hair, marking her as a traitor. Lola pressed her back against the wall as Avalon sat on top of her with her thumbs pressed firmly against her neck. The older woman was never a fighter, she married from a protective family and lived under Emperor Verus's protection. Though she was going to die, she wanted to keep her dignity. She cut her hand and smudged her blood on her chest until her fierce eyes turned vacant.

"You killed that woman."

"It was her or my daughter," answered Avalon. Not an ounce of guilt could be picked from her voice, but her tears started to fill. "You and I both know women like us were never given much of a chance to decide our own fate. Your mother and husband are proof of that. This curse in my veins and the Advisors are proof of my own."

"I suppose you're right," Lola gulped. "We really aren't the main characters of our own story." She looked at her thumbs, seeing she had been rubbing them. When she looked up at Avalon, she saw her tears still streaming.

"I called your child a vessel when I shouldn't have."

"It's all right."

"I wanted to kill you like that woman." Avalon fell to her knees and pressed her face against the palms of her hands. "How could I call myself a mother?"

"Don't do this to yourself."

The stone balcony in the palace crumbled like they were pieces of a puzzle. A strong wind lifted Lola from the ground. She was back in gravity's embrace. Avalon stayed behind. Their time in her Ascending realm was over.

A purr and wet nose brushed against Lola's cheek. The fluttering sound continued until her long whiskers brushed the tip of her nose that she had to shake herself awake. The icy breeze and smell of pine. She was back on Earth. Kinoki moved back as Lola rose from the ground. Only seconds had passed since she entered Avalon's Ascending realm. Avalon had the courage this time. She was staring at her, but with grim lips. The cloak she placed had fallen over her shoulders. Lola went to re-arrange it but stopped at the discoloration on her chest. Milk was soaking through the red fabric. Avalon wiped the liquid off her nipple, prompting Lola to cover her. There was something in her breathing that bothered her, it was like she had a mucus blockage.

"Are you going to talk about what you said?"

"Please return home." Avalon shifted her focus to the unwelcomed visitor. "I can't evade the Maiden of Death for long."

Lola turned where the wind moved the decaying branches. Not a figure, shadow, or woman stood by. Avalon pointed to the corner where a healthy tree browned and crumble.

"Be careful on your way back, Eibohn will follow to ensure those crows do not bother you." The glares she once gave Lola soften with an enduring smile. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"The snowball fight."

Alien or not, an innocent life holds equal value. Avalon could have used her power to kill her and chose against it. A predator does not release its prey out of understanding. Yet, Avalon didn't depend on it, knowing it would end with her death. While the way home awaited, Avalon felt a path was breaking into two. What Avalon said in her Ascending realm left her with a strange feeling. It was just as Ms. Clarisse said, they never gave her the opportunity to steer her way. But should she go forward and pretend the doomed mother and her unborn child didn't exist? Or does she take the unpaved road no one on Earth would dare take?

Lola didn't ask what her plan was, she was aware of it when they touched. Another section of the forest turned brown and crumbled to the ground. It brought the silver-haired woman's shoulders to shake. She touched her forehead and sighed. It was as if a fly had been bothering her, and she had given up. When her eyes opened, she was blinking and murmuring the Lenur language. Her tongue would press against her upper teeth and push the air around the corners of her mouth. The voiceless consonant of L was certainly stressed.

"She's leaving," Avalon uttered when the Lenur language was understood. Another voice followed. It couldn't be anyone less than the entity, Eibohn. But his smooth voice carried a sense of irritation.

"Why don't you just kill the human?" His words were what made Avalon sigh and groan. "That was the plan we agreed on."

"I told you already, I saw her entire life. I can't erase what is already on my chest, and for that, I bestow her as my sister-in-arms."

Eibohn no longer shared his thought.

Though he disagreed, he couldn't go against their custom. For Avalon to say she was her sister-in-arms meant she was taking full responsibility to look out for and protect. The sister-in-arms was a bullshit idea to him. It was he who created the custom when he had a skeletal structure, organs, muscles, and skin to hold him together. When he said it, he meant it, but he didn't think his declaration would be copied and survive all these years.

"Your daughter's name," interrupted Lola. "I know it."

Avalon pursed a smile, seeing she had not left. "So, you saw more than you admitted."

"You want to put Serenata's Ascending realm inside my baby."

"You cannot do such a thing," Eibohn interfered. "I refuse to entrust the hope of Osois to a human."

Avalon apologized for his insensitive comment but described him as a shrewd old man who lost his sense of humor and optimism.

"I suppose he won't be happy to know that I'm not leaving," Lola released.

"You were right, I'm not pleased," replied Eibohn. "Leave."

"That is not your choice, it's mine." Lola looked at her round front. "I will help, but you have to promise me. Promise me that no harm will come to my child."

"Braightnos is not the way to transfer the Ascending realm." Eibohn made it clear, so Avalon could change her mind. "If you fail, we will lose Serenata."

"It's not your choice," replied Avalon, who adjusted her hips to better face Lola. Their eyes warmed for each other. "This is our choice."

# Chapter 15

Tied Souls

Stiff fingers traced every curve of Lola's stomach. Her knitted sweater didn't come from the maternity department, so it stretched over her girth. She closed her eyes because it was better than staring, waiting for something to happen. Her trembling, however, hadn't paused for a minute. She expected Avalon would chant. Maybe her silver hair would emit sporadic colors. The heat that put her to sleep crawled on her like tiny spider legs with hot coals for feet. She remembered Avalon described it as her inability to understand her skill. It was a thoughtful way to say she was too dumb to grasp the power of Lenurs.

"Not sure what kind of mother I will be," she said. "And I never would have thought I'd carry two." Avalon couldn't respond, she needed to concentrate because she was about to enter her daughter's Ascending realm. "And to think I'm going to help raise your daughter."

Everything she learned of Lenurs was as wild as stories go. From their six-chamber heart to their love for singing. Then there was Osois. Earth stood no chance against a tyrant-immortal like Emperor Verus. And the police force couldn't dream of handling pubescent Lenurs, not when they went on a killing spree at puberty.

"Our species is not great, at least not to me."

Lola twitched at her comment, she wasn't expecting her voice, much less a response to her thoughts.

But Avalon continued. "Skills are genetic, but it doesn't make us all-powerful. To graduate from the Elite Academy, for example, one must carry more than unique abilities. Though Famira and her lover indeed pass their traits and skills to my father. He almost failed the academy's harsh training. I like to think it was because he was afraid of our lineage, so he didn't challenge himself."

Lola was suffering a headache that came from the memories Avalon crammed inside. It still leaked bits, but she had not yet found anything on the Winged-folk.

"Who were they?" she asked.

"The Winged-folk were lords of the skies." The voice came from Eibohn. "To stop their kingdom from reigning over the lands below. The annals of history say they were wiped off."

"Were they?"

"Are you mad? Avalon is here, is she not?" It annoyed him that she didn't put that puzzle on her own. He wanted to say more, but Avalon told him to keep his thoughts to himself.

Lola had more to say, and it involved Avalon and Emperor Verus. His marrying of many groves of women was political. If it wasn't a high lord or high lady who tried to make a marriage arrangement, it came from rural lands that wanted to become a providence for the Empire. Avalon was his desired wife, but she was titled with the lowest-ranked. He wanted to make her the Benevolent Queen, but she remained an Elite so she could protect the citizens from all threats. There was something about the royal court that kept her from moving up the ranks.

"Avalon," she hesitated to ask. "How strong are you?"

Avalon's shoulders shook until she broke out laughing. Lola felt her cheeks displayed her embarrassment. I'm not sure if I complimented her, offended her, or made myself sound ridiculus.

"I wouldn't dare speak highly of myself." She smiled while her eyes remained shut. "Not when I'm in this miserable state."

"And yet, I don't want to think about what you would have done to me," Lola confessed. "I find your kind frightening."

"Are we?" The uninvited Eibohn was eager to share his mind. Avalon told him to shut it, but he wasn't going to a second time. "You humans are the frightening ones. The creatures here live as refugees, and the way you consume your resources has no balance. Your wars and your entire lives revolve around currency and control. The young roam lost, the old look forgotten, and the middle age no longer have the time. Possessions are worth more than your eternal fate to meet the Creator. The fuel source for this world is corruption, and you humans love it."

"Okay, fair enough," Lola said, having tasted enough of the bitter tongued Eibohn. She admitted that she marinated in her own problems without reflecting where she stood as a citizen of the world. She wished she could do something, but wasn't that what everyone said?

When the sky lost its pale streak of orange, Lola took deep breaths to ventilate the heat Avalon produced. She was trying not to complain or imagine if her little one felt it. She rubbed her cheek when a line of sweat ran down her cheek. When another streamed down her face, she pulled her sleeves to her palm and dabbed the fabric on her eyes. Upon moving them away, she discovered she was no longer in the forest. She was standing on a cloud. Surrounding her were delicate white curtains that swayed without an invisible current to move them. Colorless flower petals fell from the nameless blue sky. An infant was floating in the center of the cloud, curled under a clear sac. Tiny strands of white hair grew from the scalp. When she touched the sac, the light surrounding them dimmed. When she released, the light returned.

"Serenata," Lola muttered. "This must be your Ascending realm."

A petal that landed on Lola's shoulder brushed her with a memory. It was just like Avalon's. Before she could comprehend what it carried, it drifted away. Among them was a shade darker than the rest. As it was about to float away. She cupped it like it was a butterfly and contained it. She looked inside, and what she learned saddened her.

"Why are you telling me?" she told the girl.

In exchange for Avalon's life, the Emperor's Advisors executed Famira. As for her parents, they were alive during her imprisonment. But when they went to fight Tal'ed, the neighboring country that created Demptness. Their comrades turned on them. Once again, the masterminds were the obsessive nine men who wore red robes and white masks, the Emperor's Advisors. The black petal was brushed aside by Avalon, who took her hand and returned her to the forest.

"You saw her." Avalon bit her bottom lip to keep her quivering arms from falling to her lap. Lola was not supposed to visit Serenata's Ascending Realm, but transplanting one soul inside another had its hiccups. "Now that you discovered what I hid from you, I too discovered something new."

Lola almost wobbled out of her hands. Avalon's short hair swirled and brushed her cheek. She felt naked again.

"There is much courage inside, but you don't put it to use."

Before Lola could tell her she shared Ms. Clarisse's view, she couldn't keep her knees still. She held on to them to keep herself from plummeting to the floor. The pain on her side felt like sharp needles.

"Please stop," she begged. "It hurts." Inside, she felt her little one kick squirm for space.

Avalon was aware of the discomfort the human child felt. But the transfer had to go through. In her hands was her daughter's Ascending Realm, a fluttering orb that held the luminous light of a supernova. When she placed it near the human soul, an orb that blazed like molten lava. She encountered a problem. A barrier stopped her from going further. There were no guarantees when plans were not carefully examined. Now she stood in confusion, unsure of how to break it.

A step neither she nor Lola made caused her eyes to flutter open. The Maiden of Death was beside them. Her scythe was hovering over Avalon, ready to claim her daughter.

"Don't entrust your Serenata to those humans," Eibohn urged in her mind. "You can still turn back."

Avalon couldn't hold the Ascending Realm for long. It was especially hard when Lola's child kept shuffling away from her.

"Eibohn, there is no limit to where you can go. Please carry this weight and go inside the child."

"No."

"I'm begging you!" She kept her hands against the human abdomen, no matter how many times she begged her to stop. Avalon would have wailed, but she bit her lip instead, so she wouldn't scare Lola. Her uterus had opened, and Serenata was about to enter Earth, unprepared and unprotected.

"Very well," Eibohn sighed. "I will assist you." He took the Ascending Realm from Avalon and confronted the barrier. The reason why humans didn't need an Ascending Realm was due to their short lives. But the ball of fire had to be contained. The barrier was a temporary film for the pure, sinless human child. Eibohn got closer than he needed, it caused the flames to spark, almost at the brink of discharging if he got closer.

"Clever little thing," he said. "I will keep my distance to not agitate you, but I'm staying." Eibohn no longer had his own Ascending realm to return to. As a result, many of his own memories had faded. He couldn't remember his parents, what he looked like if he had ever fallen in love. What remained was his world of pain, undying like himself. "Aveyonari Sames, release."

Avalon pulled away and pushed herself against the boulder. Between her legs and covered in slime, was a tiny body no bigger than a hand. She desperately wanted to feel her daughter, but it was out of her reach. Lola whimpered as she picked up Serenata for her. When she passed the child to the mother, she repeatedly kissed her forehead. She examined every inch and the slight details of her face.

"The Ascending Realm passed."

Now that her daughter was no longer in danger, Avalon was calm. But a tingle started crawling over. It was one of the memories she couldn't put to words, but it formed a thought. As the clumps collected, she learned what they had done. Avalon's energy dispersed an exajoule among the stars. When Avalon looked up at her, she understood that she had discovered it.

"I understand your frustration."

"Frustration?" Lola repeated. "I didn't agree to hide from your galactic force!"

"Elite," corrected Avalon.

"Whatever!"

"You must understand how unbearable it was to see that woman linger with death's scythe." Avalon's spine straightened. "But I admit, my excitement took the better of me." When the leaves drifted nearby, she no longer trusted them as nature's movements. "It's safe to assume they have already found Earth."

This was a turn of events.

Lola was safeguarding the lone successor of the Empire, was now worthy of being gutted for helping a fugitive. But Avalon swore she was out of harm's way. The only person who knew she was expecting was the Emperor's oldest wife.

"I should have told you from the beginning, but I didn't think you would help me." Avalon blinked, unable to look at the brown eyes that had built-up anger. "What happened cannot be reversed, but I'm certain they will arrive."

"I know they will!" Lola didn't need her reassurance for this one. Though the Elites were warriors that inspired the citizens of the Empire, they took roles as executioners. Some had turned on Avalon in hopes her life would turn into a tragic epic. She ruffled her hair to shake off the mind trip. "It's too late to be mad at you."

"It's time for you to make your way home. I will stay and wait for the Elite's arrival." Lola scolded her for the sparkle in her eyes. But she was curious to know who they sent. "Take back your cloak." She pulled the cloak and presented it to her. "We can't let them know I made contact."

"I won't see you again, won't I?" Lola could almost read her answer in her swirling irises because she couldn't give an honest answer.

"My daughter has a shot at living out her days, that is enough for me." Avalon pressed her hands against Lola's stomach. "I hope they regard each other as siblings."

"We must leave," replied Eibohn.

Lola almost jumped. She couldn't see him, but he spoke like he was beside her.

"He's right," Avalon added. Her eyes moved to Lola's right, where she heard Eibohn's voice. "Do not forget. The human child is under your protection."

"I understand." But Eibohn never agreed to protect the human child, only that he would help carry Serenata's Ascending realm. Whether or not he wanted to help, was not his worry.

Avalon's eyes warmed for her. "Saimo, Lola."

"Goodbye, Aveyonari Sames."

Avalon's lips parted from the surprise. "That was good."

"You can thank your memories for that."

"I suppose it's safe to say I know the names you selected for your little one." Avalon also knew the gender, but her knowledge that Lola wanted to keep it a secret kept her from saying it. "It is a pleasant name."

# Chapter 16

Dr. Graham's Frustration, Again

October 31, 2050

Lola held her breath as Dr. Graham poured the ultrasound gel over her stomach. She had little sleep the night before.

"Stop fidgeting," he told her as he moved the doppler.

"I haven't felt any movements since this morning." She also couldn't forget the violent turns and twists in her stomach when Avalon touched her. Her worries got her to arrive an hour early. Luckily for her, Natalie was not there to snub her. But it was the afternoon, she could have been at lunch.

A familiar drum returned and brought her to exhale.

padum-padum-padum-padum-padum-padum

"As I expected." Dr. Graham gave the number to his medical assistant. "Your baby was taking a long nap."

"Nothing's wrong?"

"Everything is peachy."

After the medical assistant wiped the gel off her abdomen, she followed Dr. Graham back to his office. He observed her with suspicious eyes. Something changed since he last saw her. But he could not point out what.

"Have you been getting enough sleep?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Yes?" he repeated. "Yes, what?"

"I am getting enough sleep."

Dr. Graham grumbled and folded his hands over his lap. "Do you have any questions for me?"

Lola looked at her grumpy doctor. His concerns were harmless, but he sure had a way of laying them on the table. She kept staring because she realized they were opposites. Her word choices carried no authority while he was straight-forward, and that was what made him intimidating.

"Is there something stamped on my face?"

She shook her head and apologized for gawking at him. Before she could take her backpack, he asked her to return to her seat. When she wouldn't descend, he insisted with an extended "please."

Here we go. Lola put the handle of her backpack down.

Dr. Graham took his phone and flicked his index finger at the screen. It was a chart for the next two months. "There is a high chance of snow for the middle of November." Lola gazed at his blue eyes without a word so he would make his point. "Will there be any family members or friends that you can depend on?" He examined her face, expecting her usual tense reaction. "You don't seem like your usual self."

"I'm fine..." Lola paused, she too spotted a difference. "Does that surprise you?"

Dr. Graham scratched the back of his head. His elbows now rested on the burgundy desk Lola already admired, twice. He cut to the chase and explained he wasn't trying to pry into her business. Not this time.

"My wife and I have an invitation we hope you will agree to."

His wife? Lola leaned back from her chair to take in what he put to light. What happened to patient confidentiality!

"The road you take to the Forest should close in December. They won't be plowing the snow soon because it's a waste of the state's money. And yes, I checked. Dona and I would be more than happy to have you fill our empty home with a newborn baby."

Lola wasn't expecting those words out of his lips. She would have guessed, "The police are waiting outside the clinic to lock you up until you deliver your baby." But his proposal didn't have an ugly ring. The furthest she was from the Okanogan-Wenatchee forest, the safer she was from the Elite.

"No! I want to be near my mother!"

Lola gasped at the voice that blared in her mind. A surprised Dr. Graham abandoned his seat. She thought he heard Serenata, but it was her reaction that staggered him.

"May I use the restroom?"

"Is everything all right?" he said. "Are you feeling any pressure?"

Lola shifted from her seat and swung the door open. "I drank too much water."

Water ran down the low-arc faucet. Lola pretended her reflection was the pale-faced baby she saw in her Ascending Realm. She remembered Avalon talked out loud and singing to her daughter, but she wasn't prepared for this.

"Serenata?" she said for the third time.

"I don't want us to be far from my mother." Her voice was a five-year-old girl that spiraled in her mind. "She is all alone."

"She is alone because she is protecting us." The water poured out of the faucet while Lola waited for her response.

"Will Mother defeat the Elite? Eibohn won't tell me, and mother wouldn't give me an answer."

"She will be all right if we help her." It was the best answer Lola could give. She, too, didn't know if Avalon was capable of giving her best. Now she knew Eibohn didn't have high hopes.

"Okay."

Lola nodded at her reflection and turned off the faucet. Back at the office, she found Dr. Graham's hands folded over his desk. He was waiting for her like a corporate big shot, who expected his important meeting. Lola sat down with her answer, but she lacked a confident response to her doctor's proposal.

"Have you decided?"

"Can I think about it?" said Lola. "No — what I mean to say is... I accept your offer. Give me a day to pack my belongings."

As soon as Dr. Graham released his grip, his pale cheeks turned pink. Her answer thrilled him. At this moment, he would believe anything, even that unicorns exist.

"That's what I wanted to hear." Though he still looked surprised, he wanted to share more. "Well then —" A pound against the door forced them to jerk their shoulders. Without their consent, a man rambled inside and halted, noticing Dr. Graham was not alone. He adjusted his grey hat and tried to line a smile.

"Sorry," he murmured. Mud-stained boots smeared the Persian carpet like a slap of cake frosting. He was no medical assistant, but he fit the norms of a desperate hitchhiker who lost his way.

"What did I say about coming to my office without permission?" Dr. Graham jolted to his feet. His pink cheeks turned red until it swam over his face. "And how many times do I have to repeat myself? Don't come into my clinic with those damn boots!"

Lola pretended she was one of the potted plants. She blankly stared at the ceiling to avoid the anger steaming out of his face. Surely he wouldn't behave so wildly unless he knew the intruder. In the midst of their silence, she glanced back and found him embarrassed. He stammered another apology and told Dr. Graham he would wait in the corridor.

The door closed with a gentle click.

"I'm sorry you saw that." Dr. Graham fixed his tie and sat back on his leather chair.

"And I thought you were at your worst with me."

"Well, you will soon find out the kind of reactions your own kid will pull out of you."

She thought there was a resemblance. The sharp chin and broad jawline were identical to Dr. Graham. I would have suspected sooner if his eyes were blue, concluded Lola. But they're hazel.

"You shouldn't make him wait," she added. "It looked urgent."

"Sit," he grumbled. "He would have called me if it was an emergency. As you saw from those disgusting boots, he doesn't know when to keep those dirty things out of my clinic!" He shouted the last part so his son could hear him.

Lola thanked her doctor once again. He was clearly still upset. This time she put on her backpack and hoped their meeting was adjourned.

"Hold it right there," he said. "Are you going to fetch your belongings?"

"I first need to make a few arrangements." She needed to confess what she hid since day one. "There is a cat, you see."

"You don't have to explain, your backpack is bursting with feline hair. We don't keep pets in our home, but my son shouldn't mind."

"I don't know." Son or not, she wouldn't leave Kinoki with a stranger.

"He has chickens, but no dogs. Your cat will do just fine."

"I still don't —"

"Actually, since you're going home to pack. Jeremy can help you. You two can come back —"

"I haven't decided if I was staying tonight —" Lola stuttered.

"And why not?"

"It's all happening too soon —"

"Not soon enough if you ask me."

"Can you let me finish my sentence?"

"So you can talk your way out of it? Not a chance." Dr. Graham reached an unacceptable level of bossiness. He had not yet cooled down from his son's interruption and the awful stain on his rug.

"Just let me pack my belongings on my own," Lola insisted, hoping it would redeem the shame she felt. She couldn't forget that his wife agreed. Her cheeks burned. Did he tell her of my sour attitude and all the horrific lies I told him?

"Lola, you already accepted my offer, so there is no turning back." He pointed at her stomach. "Have you forgotten that you may not lift heavy items? Is being so stubborn worth risking your health?"

"No." Though she surpassed that after her encounter with Avalon.

"Then it's a plan, the sooner, the better. Wait here." Dr. Graham didn't invite his son so they can reach an agreement. Instead, he walked out and shut the door, so his patient wouldn't listen.

Lola imagined his son refusing and groaning at his father's request. But the idea didn't settle with her either. She didn't plan to have visitors, and much less by someone who didn't think to knock before entering. She leaned head back in hopes she could catch a few words, but only caught muffled sounds. When he returned, she straightened her back and watched her doctor hand over her appointment card. On the bottom was his home address.

"Make sure the receptionist returns the card after she puts you on the calendar." He left the door open. "My son agreed, he'll be accompanying you."

But Lola remained seated. It was her doubts that glued her down. Dr. Graham acted and helped her out of her seat and ushered her to the front. In return, Lola resisted his gentle push towards the corridor. While she was changing her mind, he could almost hear every word that shared her doubts.

"Now, now, you'll be a mother soon. Once you have your baby, I'll stop losing my hair, and we won't have to go at each other's throat." Like a frustrated homeowner with the local salesman, Dr. Graham kept Lola out of his office and shut the door to her face.

Lola huffed and swiftly swung her backpack over her shoulder. Leaning against the wall was Jeremy who was listening the entire time. When she glanced at him, his eyes dropped to her stomach before looking away. He didn't have to tell her, but she reckoned her doctor guilt-trip him. Though they haven't been properly introduced, the frown on the corner of his mouth kept her from trying.

Since his eyes haven't returned to her, she skipped the introduction and walked back to the waiting room. He echoed behind so he wouldn't follow close. She tried to understand the distance. Perhaps Dr. Graham told him she would devour him if he got on her wrong side.

In the waiting room, Natalie was occupying the front desk. Things couldn't get better. Lola tapped the corner of her card hoping the receptionist had forgotten her quick hands. As soon as they made eye contact, Natalie moved them away. She held back her greeting as if she were a figment of her imagination.

"About our last meeting." Lola readied her apology, all while she admired her thin, aqua tone glasses. But her passive-aggressive receptionist rolled from her desk and started looking through the file cabinets. When a call rang, she answered with the urgency of a 911 caller.

Lola left the card Dr. Graham entrusted to her and waited it out. She looked back and found his son leaning against yet another wall. His arms crossed when he noticed she looked up at him. He stared back, then at her stomach, and finally looked away.

What form of psychology did your father perform for you to gawk at me in such a manner? Feeling irritated, she ignored him once more and looked back at Natalie. But the receptionist had disappeared. Now Lola tapped her fingers. She tried to convince herself that there was no use in getting upset. Natalie wanted to get even, and she needed to give her that opportunity. When she returned, she rolled her eyes at her endurance because she had to remain professional.

"Give me one minute," she took the folder on her desk to give it a quick look.

"I think she waited enough." The darkening voice was hovering above Lola.

"Jeremy!" Natalie took the card from the counter. "I-I'm sorry. I've been busy." Her cheeks turned a hint of pink by the embarrassment. She couldn't type without briefly glancing at Jeremy. Before she returned the card, her eyebrows rose at the address. She recognized it as her Boss's home, but she didn't know why it was there.

Lola used every tendon in her hand to accept it like they were documents belonging to the CIA. Before she left the clinic, Jeremy went ahead and swung the door open for her. She exhaled from the biting chill of the mountains and buried her hands in her pocket. When they reached the tailgate of her truck, their silence broke.

"Is that rust bucket yours?" he chuckled. "And a gas one too."

"Excuse me?" The first word he directed at her was rude.

"You always drive home alone?"

"Yes."

"Well, it's a good thing I'm driving." His hands stretched out before her. "Give me your keys." Lola gripped them, confused by his request. "Judging from your small truck, and your enormous belly, I doubt you have any room left to fit and drive."

The apple didn't fall far from the Graham family tree. Her doctor successfully passed his sarcasm. Seeing she wasn't going to give him what he requested, he walked around her truck. He then whistled a low tune at the mud stains and the dents on the side.

"Your passenger window is down," he said it plainly until his eyes shifted to her with suspicion.

"Thank you for your concern," Lola said, out of not wanting to explain. "But I am not letting you drive." She also prayed he wasn't the kind of man that didn't approve of women driving trucks.

"I don't want to drive your truck. But it wouldn't hurt if you gave that poor thing a good wash." Jeremy crossed his arms and smirked. "The window's broken, isn't it?"

"Then you can follow me," Lola answered while dodging his accurate guess. She was shivering and feeling somewhat annoyed, so she walked to the driver's side until he extended his arm.

"Dad told me to bring your luggage to his house and pick you up tomorrow morning."

"What? No — I didn't agree to that!" She looked at the window to his office, betrayal smeared her eyes. That bingo-playing Dr. Graham. She imagined him chuckling behind his expensive desk, whispering "checkmate."

"Those were the instructions." Jeremy gripped and wobbled the tailgate to test its sturdiness. "Your gal will be fine. She will be here for you to drive around as you please."

"Perhaps I didn't make myself clear."

"You know, it's easy to be in the passenger seat." The colors in his eyes grew more vibrant when he got closer. "It's really easy, you sit, put on your seatbelt, and stare ahead."

Lola pressed her lips for how he made her opposition seem like it was over nothing. She took a deep breath and gave up her keys. "Where's your vehicle?"

"Right next to yours." Jeremy stepped aside to stand closer to his electric pickup with a suspension lift. The black coat was deep and reflected Lola's chipped, gas-powered rig. There was no debate, the pickup was the yang to her truck's yin, but there was a recent problem at hand.

"How do you expect me to climb into that monster?"

Jeremy chuckled, as he opened the passenger door and offered his hand. It brought her to stare at it. She was unsettled once again by the gesture of the opposite sex.

"Is something the matter?" he said after her prolonged gaze.

"Nothing." She gave him her hand and climbing into the seat. As she leaned over to close the door, Jeremy stopped her. She insisted she could reach it, but he moved the door back so he can close it himself.

"First time?" he asked. "Or are there no gentlemen in California?"

"Third time." She had not forgotten Benjamin and Mr. Helen's kindness.

Jeremy's engine did not grumble or cackle like her truck. It growled like it was clearing its throat and purred. When they reached a red light, it allowed her to look at the tiny shops and their festive Bavarian decorations. The street she had not yet had the pleasure of visiting was called Front Street.

Lola pressed her hand over her stomach. She hopped after her little one is born, she too can walk among the locals without worrying who was over her shoulder. Thanksgiving was coming around, and the smiles of the locals who passed by depicted their eagerness for it. Jeremy was wrong. Sitting in the passenger seat wasn't easy. All the watching was swirling her with emotions. As if her tears carried a scent, Jeremy noticed them before the light turned green. After she blinked them from her eyes, she appreciated that he didn't point them out.

# Chapter 17

Preconceived Attitude

The hydraulics of Jeremy's truck made Lola shift from her seat. It wasn't the rig's fault. A certain kind of pressure was building inside. Her bladder had become a recliner, and she could no longer bear the torture any longer.

"Can we stop for a minute?" she asked, with increasing urgency.

"Are you crazy?" he said, glancing at her. "We're in the middle of the highway."

"I have to pee," Lola yapped.

"Why didn't you say anything before we left town?"

"It's not something a single rest stop can fix." She started to pant.

"You can't hold it?"

"I'm in no position to control or hold it. The little one doesn't care for my bladder. I can skip water for the entire day, but no trick will relieve it. If you don't pull over, then drive me back and admit me to the hospital." Lola pressed her head against the seat as it was building. "Any minute now!"

"Okay, okay!" The alarmed driver eyed the rearview mirror and pulled to the side. When he parked his truck, Lola opened the door, ready to leap like a frog. But he took her arm before she could and reminded her of the height from the ground. He got off his seat with a grace she could not do since the view of her feet disappeared.

She danced farther into the open field for a secluded spot. But the trees that could hide her private parts were behind the wooden fence that ran for miles. Jeremy followed, warning her of the wildlife they were trespassing. But she was out of options.

"Are you seriously going to pee straight out in the —"

"Turn away," she cried. "I can't hold it!"

Jeremy did, but not without cupping his ears to block the flow. Lola sighed as her hot-headedness leaked out of her body. She opened her backpack and pulled out her toilet paper, cartoned water, and sanitizing wipes. When she walked back, Jeremy back still faced her with sealed ears. She said, ready, but he remained as unmoving as a scarecrow. When she tapped his shoulder, he jittered.

"I'm done."

"Clearly," Jeremy gasped. "Come on." He took her hand nonchalantly and led the way back to his truck. His hold confused her. But there she went, following him until he suddenly stopped and released. "I didn't want you to trip and fall on your way back."

Lola believed him.

She looked at the field for the uneven ground she overlooked when she did her potty dance.

Not a perilous hole, or bulging hill in sight.

They weren't halfway to the forest when Lola started her hips. She resorted to hoping, wishing the pressure would go down for a minute longer. It prompted Jeremy to ask if she needed to meet nature again. Her quick nod made him pull over.

Fifteen minutes into the road and the impulse made a comeback.

"How many times do you do this?" He asked after he caught Lola's movements from his peripheral.

"It depends," she grunted. "Five, maybe ten."

"You are kidding!" He took his worn hat off and readjusted it back on his head. "At this pace, we'll never get to your house."

"Well, I held it longer than I should have the first time."

Jeremy shook his head and looked for a safe clearance to merge off the road. Though he was two years older than Lola, he had no kids, so the scenario was new to him.

When they returned to the road, the quiet commute made Lola drowsy. She was used to her shaky truck and the wind howling through the passenger window. Jeremy was not interested in talking to her. If Dr. Graham was here, she wondered with a smile. I'm certain we would be singing Camptown Races. Thinking he was just as tired as her, she examined him. The dust on his jeans and boots showed a day's work was complete.

"I'm sorry for the trouble." It was the least she could say.

Jeremy glanced at her like he forgot she was there. He focused back on the road and dismissed her apology with a shrug. "My dad is a persuasive man." Lola could agree on that. "Besides," he added with a smirk. "When I found out you were the infamous Lola, I needed to make my old man happy."

"Infamous?"

"Well, he didn't give me a name," he confessed. "But he would sometimes ramble about a stubborn patient. 'Pregnancy should not be taken lightly!' He'd yelled. I knew it was you when I saw the way you resisted him out of his office. Also, your truck gave it away."

"I didn't know I was a problematic person," said Lola, half-lying.

"It doesn't take a genius to get the hint. You like to keep to yourself. That is the ingredient that drives my old man crazy." Jeremy tapped his thumb against the steering wheel. "Did it occur to you that Natalie was making you wait on purpose?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because of what I did last time. I snatched my appointment card from her and gave her the scare of her life." Lola looked at her hands. They were swift indeed. "Natalie hasn't forgiven me or forgotten it."

Jeremy snickered without sharing a clue about which of them he was laughing at. "Why do you live so far from town?" He pointed at his GPS. "It says we better have permission to drive on this road."

"The forest rangers know me."

"Oh, that's good."

"A home is a home."

"What?" The blond-headed man glanced at her, confused by her statement.

"You asked why I live so far," she said. "A home is a home."

"You couldn't find one in Leavenworth or Wenatchee?"

Lola couldn't answer, so her silence convinced Jeremy to deviate from his question. He shared his life in the country instead.

"I live about twenty miles from town and run the family farm."

"What do you grow?"

"Wheat." His thumb tapping came to a stop. "You'd think I end up like my dad, but I turned out different. Like my grandfather, he would say."

Different yes. Dr. Graham's polished shoes and his son's boots stood apart from orderly and disordered. Jeremy updated her on the recent developments in town to the recent gossip his mother told him about the mayor. She didn't think the people of Leavenworth were interesting. But they shared the same troubles as the big cities, from its deviant residents to the potholes on the road that needed fixing.

"Is this your first pregnancy?" His wide jaw expanded from a prolonged yawn, and his straight nose crinkled. "I'm not trying to be nosy, but I've been carrying our conversation. I would gladly accept anything you have to say to keep me awake."

Lola was sure he slept before the sun sets and rose at dawn to care for his crops. What a horrible way to use your son, Dr. Graham. This is not how you become Father of the Year. Jeremy caught her staring at him. It forced her to look away. It made him lean towards her for a whisper.

"You're not the talkative kind, huh?" He chuckled and moved back. "Come on, help me out here." He released another yawn. "Here's an easy one. Are you married?"

"You could have asked for my favorite color."

"I asked because of that belly of yours."

"Right." But that was the hardest question of them all. She couldn't say divorced because that also wasn't true. "Separated,"

"Marital problems with a baby coming?" He shook his head. "Must be tough."

"It's not." Lola felt her thumb over the other. "It's easy when the father doesn't want to be in the picture."

"Hey, how about some music?" Jeremy was eager to change the topic. His curiosity would get him in trouble, so he wanted to fix it.

"We like Brian Crain," she said, taking her little one into account. But she couldn't blame him for trying to steer off Dr. Graham's habit of asking personal questions. His sarcasm? Not so much.

"It's not Darden Smith, but classical is good. It looks like your baby, and I will become friends." The two glanced at one another. Their eyes couldn't hold, so they promptly turned away.

The landscape of trees endlessly engulfed their view of the mountains. Jeremy admitted he found them tiring. For a man who lived in Washington State his entire life, she didn't think the Pacific Northwest was dull. When he described the lonely road was fit for a horror movie. Lola couldn't tell him she experienced it firsthand.

"You must feel crummy living this far by yourself," he added, since she wasn't a talker. "I would go crazy."

"Perhaps it's easy for you to say because you have a family to come home to." Lola crossed her arms and rested her head towards the window. "I can assure you I don't find living here any more dangerous than Leavenworth."

"Actually, I don't have a family of my own." Jeremy smacked his lips. He didn't like the taste in his mouth when he said it. "Although, I guess you could say I was close to having one."

"You guys can't have children?"

"No..." Jeremy's voice faltered. "Karen didn't become my wife, but we were engaged."

Lola moved her head from the window, sensing his discomfort. "You don't have to tell me."

"I might as well, you're not exactly talkative." He said it without trying to sound sarcastic. "It happened two years ago. We were planning our wedding with all those stressful preparations. But Everything went to shit after we sent the wedding invitations. Turns out, she lived a double life. I don't know if it was guilt or spite, but the man she was with unloaded everything to me. The jerk even apologized. I called the wedding off and sent another letter to update our guests of the change of plans. She and my mother recently reconnected, which brings her back into my life."

Jeremy could have said, "Things didn't work out," and Lola wouldn't pry anymore. Instead, he unloaded everything without a catch for breath. It made her wonder if he had a confidant. Perhaps she was a safety net, she was not a local, and they didn't know each other.

"You would think she would fess up, move on, and marry the other guy." Jeremy formed a tight grip on the steering wheel. "But she's back in my life, slowly but surely. As if what she did would disappear. What makes her think I wasn't hurt?"

"I wouldn't know." Lola rubbed her arm that was once a discolored purple. "Sometimes, they don't care if you were hurt."

"Well, shit, I was!" he exclaimed. "She acts like we are in a cheap soap opera that will fix itself in the end. There is no writer for that. My love for her turned out to be a lie."

Lola remembered her mother behaved the same way with her stepdad. To survive, she made herself a priority in emotions, money, and necessities. Her siblings fell second, her stepdad was third, and she was not on the list.

"Women." He couldn't let the conversation go, and he was never good at simmering down. "Think you're so clever with your guilt-ridden trips and manipulative tendencies. It pisses me off." He had every right to speak that way, but he was addressing women with a subordinate mind. Karen's mistakes have become the common denominator of his problem with the opposite sex.

"Not all women are this way," Lola hoped he would get the hit. She played no part in hurting him.

"If she exists, point her out." Jeremy shook his head, not satisfied with his passenger's answer. "No offense, but I'm sure you pissed off your man many times."

The first annoyed, now unsure impression of Dr. Graham's son cracked. He sounded like her husband, and his temper followed it.

"When I disappointed him, it was for things he couldn't control." For fairness' sake, Lola was willing to understand him. His dreams with Karen shattered. No dustpan in the world could pick up his broken heart. "If he was angry." She pulled in a lie. "I didn't try to bounce the argument." But the truth was he would get mad no matter what she said.

"You're telling me you have no responsibility for your actions in the relationship?" For him to get this defensive, she couldn't imagine the damage his ex-fiancé caused.

"We argued over many things."

"Which means you provoked him somewhere in those lines."

"Let's drop this conversation." She shifted her spine towards the passenger window. "You don't know what you're saying."

"I know what I'm saying," he tested. "I got stabbed in the heart by the woman everyone least expected would do something as low as to sleep with her boss!"

"Did she beat you?" she snapped. "Did she verbally put you down like you were yesterday's trash that wasn't worth picking up after? At least she cheated behind your back and not in your own house! Don't preach to me about deceitful women when I lived with the worst man on earth. Call me stupid for staying, but I was more afraid than anything else. But please, go on ahead and keep bad-mouthing women, but don't add me to your list."

Jeremy couldn't. She paralyzed him from uttering another word. The trees continued to pass, unaware of the beans she spilled. But what she said was turning into worries. Perhaps she said too much. Dr. Graham had yet to know the man she married.

"Your husband did that?" The grip Jeremy held against the steering wheel loosened. "He really hurt you?"

"For many years."

"What made you want to leave him. Why now?"

"He wanted an abortion, so I left." Lola pressed her hand over her stomach. "I try not to look back, but it's hard when you've been with someone for so many years —"

"Lola," interrupted Jeremy. She looked at him, finding him shaking his head. "Never mind."

The Mable sign was not far, so she warned him and pointed at the small opening. His truck steered through with ease, claiming dominion over the bumpy gravel that made her truck shake.

The Ponderosa made him whistle. "I thought it was neglected like your truck, but that is one fancy cabin."

"I have to use the bathroom," Lola panted.

Jeremy parked on the dents on the graver her truck marked. He opened the passenger door and offered his hand. But she hesitated to take it, still unsure of who the man before her was. He had an attitude, was blunt like his father, and anger appeared to drive his personality. He's not like my husband, is he? As she stepped off, she forgot to grab his hand. She forced her eyes shut for the fall as her yelp echoed through the forest. When she opened them, Jeremy had carried her.

"Are you okay?" He said, sensing her shaky hold. "You should have taken my hand." When he put her down, his quick reflexes surprised her. "The bathroom?" he added, seeing she had not yet moved.

Lola hurried up the stairs and unlocked the Ponderosa to do her business. When she returned, she found Jeremy observing the weeds sprouting from the yard.

"I have a few things to pack," she called out from the porch. The cold breeze brought him to join her.

"Take your time," he said, taking a seat in the living room.

But he didn't relax for long. Kinoki's legs froze at the sight of the unknown visitor. Jeremy stared back at her. He was warned about the cat. The furball surprised him when she leaped on his lap. His father couldn't keep her, but he was unsure if he was the right person for the job. When he hovered his hand over the black coat, the cat purred. His frown brought a smile.

"Mind if I take a look around your place?" he asked.

"Help yourself," she answered, finding his character comical. She left to fold her clothes into her briefcase. She zipped it and rolled it to the nursery room just across the hallway. Alongside was her hospital bag. The rest of her essential needs were in a box that included wipes, diapers, burp cloths, and white and cream-colored onesies. On top was the first item she bought for her little one, a pale-yellow blanket. Before she called for Jeremy, he made it to the second floor. He took her briefcase and hospital bag and followed her downstairs.

"Would you like something to drink?" she asked as she passed by the living room. "There's water, juice —"

"Some coffee," he said, with no formality. "And some for the ride back home."

When he left, Lola lingered in the living room. She was looking at the picture frame of Ms. Clarisse. There was no turning back now.

"Starting tomorrow, I'll be away for a few months," she said to the image. Jeremy's quick return startled her. She hurried to the kitchen to prepare a pot of coffee. Soon the slow drip released the aroma that stirred the senses of any coffee lover.

"I didn't think the interior would look like a modern home," Jeremy sat on the kitchen table with Kinoki flopped in his arms. "It's in excellent shape."

The positive review made her proud. "The previous owner kept the building up to date."

"How did you —" Jeremy paused. "You know what. I'm not going to ask. Hey, I... never mind." He wanted her story, but it wasn't the right time.

Lola placed a cup of coffee on the table and set aside a container of hazelnut-flavored creamer. She looked through her cabinets for a decent mug he can take for the road. The metallic travel mug she bought on her way to Washington made the fit.

"It's quiet here." He sipped and exhaled his first taste of caffeine.

"That's how I like it." She poured the rest of the coffee into the black travel mug and placed it on the table for him.

She sat across and looked through the window where the Cascade Mountains stretched over the horizon. Below, a Scattered Willow shed its bright red leaves among the jade of pine. The sun was setting on schedule, glowing among the looming dark. A gust of wind hit them and hurled the leaves against the glass window, twirling and twisting before falling to the ground.

"I was wrong," he said, trapped by the moving scenery. "You wouldn't feel crummy here."

"It's not always like this, it can get depressing after seven." That was a lie. She hated the hours of darkness. Every other night, before bed, her husband would send his threatening messages.

"You need a companion for the dark hours then," Jeremy said it light-heartedly. But it made their eyes meet to observe the color they were born with.

"I'll get Kinoki's items ready," Lola stammered, ungluing herself from his stare. "It will only take a minute or two." She hoped Kinoki would follow her, but her cat watched her leave from Jeremy's arms. She filled the box on her own. Since it didn't weigh much, she left it by the door for Jeremy.

Her steps back to the kitchen didn't disturb him. He was soaking the view of the peeking foothills. She hated that she couldn't look at him with confidence. When she got closer, his attention shifted from the window to her.

"Take a seat." He set Kinoki on the floor so he can finish his cup. Lola did. His eyes focused on her while she resisted looking away. "I'm sorry."

The unexpected apology dropped her guard, leaving her blinking for an explanation. He leaned his elbows on the table. His hazel eyes took a solemn turn.

"I acted like a complete jerk on the road. I take back every word I said that offended you." He tapped his thumb against the handle, beating to the same pace he did on the steering wheel. It was like there was a song he had been playing in his mind. "It's been two years, but I let the past get to me. I judged you for no reason. I'm not...I'm not that kind of man."

Lola just started running from her past but learned it would not be easy. Though there were no shortcuts, she knew there was no going back.

"I made a lot of mistakes in my life." She pressed her fingers against the glass. "But I learned one thing. Stay away from the people who feel no remorse when they hurt you."

"Straight from the wisdom well."

"Well, it was a recent lesson." Lola brushed the side of her hair. "My new challenge is learning to be more open."

"Karen told me her boss threatened her for those four years they were together." Jeremy's eyes steadied at his tapping until he stopped his finger. "It made me hopeful, maybe we could start over, but then I saw the pictures." His focus moved to the empty. "In one of them, they were New York dressed in matching clothes. In another, she was smiling at the camera in a revealing bikini. When I confronted her, she denied everything. She was sweet and reserved with me, but with him. He told me she was rebellious, embracing the nightlife. The Karen I knew didn't like that kind of lifestyle.

"Some saw us as the town's ideal couple, so the humiliation became too much for her. My friends told me to stop answering her calls, but it was hard when she had thoughts of harming herself. Now that she and my mother are talking, I have to pretend I got it together." Jeremy moved the cup away. "I don't know how I will get through it. I'm the one who got hurt. I'm in pain as well." His spine loosened when he leaned his chest towards the table, allowing his forehead to rest on the surface. His shoulders hung like a puppet with no strings, a slumped figure showing his inner wound.

Until Karen confessed her wrongs, Jeremy would never heal. It was obvious that she still loved him, but he was hurt to see it. Lola abandoned her seat and approached the blond-headed man and stopped at his side. When she pressed her hand on one of his dangling shoulders, she hoped it gave him the comfort Ms. Clarisse once gave her.

"I was told I have courage," she said. "Maybe I wouldn't have suffered as much if I believed it. But that doesn't mean things can't change. These feelings you're going through, I don't think it will be a permanent one."

She couldn't read his response. Jeremy's forehead was still against the table. She lifted her fingers, but seconds from releasing, he reached from below and took her hand. The touch startled her, but she also didn't move them away, sensing his rough skin.

"Thank you," he whispered. He held her hand for a moment until he released. He lifted his head and inhaled. "Anything else you want me to take?" His forehead was pink from the pressure he placed against the table. He rose from the chair nonchalantly and took the travel mug with him. "Oh right, Kinoki's items."

Lola stopped being surprised by his lightning reactions to change a scene or the dramatic way he pretended it was an illusion. She played his game and showed him where she left Kinoki's box. Jeremy took a quick look. There were toys, catnip, mini water fountain, plush toys, snacks, and shampoo.

"She lives better than I do."

Kinoki escorted him while Lola stayed behind. Since it was the last box, there was no reason for him to return. She folded her arms and stared at the door he left open. When the truck grumbled, Kinoki ran through the doors. Lola felt a hint of disappointment. The least she could do was wish him a safe trip. With the door still open. She held the doorknob and motion it to close it, but she stopped. Lola walked to the porch and looked over the rail, not knowing her heart would bounce. Jeremy hadn't left. He was leaning by the bed of his truck, waiting for her. Without saying a word, they both took the stairs, meeting halfway.

"Thanks for the coffee," he said.

"No problem." Lola was two steps up, allowing her eye-level to match his.

"I'll call you when I'm on my way." He swayed his phone over hers to exchange phone numbers.

The breeze passed through them with a cold bite. Lola resisted the urge to run back inside because Jeremy appeared to be fidgeting. He tapped his wrist against his hip while his eyes looked around the yard.

"I don't want to leave you alone." He re-focused to her. "Can't you stay with my parents tonight?"

"Thank you for the offer, but I want one more night to myself." She escaped his gaze and looked at his black truck. "And I still don't know how your mom really feels about a stranger living in her house."

"My mother has a hobby, and that's having guests." He glanced over the yard. "Once your baby is born, you will be busy being a mom. This area is growing wild. Perhaps I can bring my equipment and clear the area." He pointed at the narrow exit that led back to the road and circled it. "You have no barrier to protect yourself from any predators. I can fence this place and set up solar panel lights for the night. You'll feel more at home and safe with decent lighting. What I'm trying to say is after your baby is born, I wouldn't mind coming back."

A flare ignited within Lola.

It spread through her chest like sparklers that wouldn't go out. What she felt was new, but she didn't have the name for it.

"I know we just met." He readjusted his hat. "It was weird to ask, wasn't it?"

"I don't mind having you around," she said.

"You don't?"

"But coming here will become a hassle."

"I don't care, I want to come back..." his voice died out, losing both voice and words to justify what he meant.

Lola could not hide the smile on her face. Her cheeks warmed up, and no chill could freeze them. But another biting wind pulled in to challenge her. She shut her eyes while Jeremy closed in, shielding her from the current. His fingers traced her shoulders to keep her balance steady. If it was her husband, she would have questioned his motive. She was unsure at first, but now she was certain. This man is different. When his fingers reached her collarbone, he didn't need to ask if she was cold.

"Stay warm."

Jeremy took the remaining steps to the ground. Before he could go inside, Lola called his name, not knowing why she did it. Her mouth was half-open with an empty head and no words. Her embarrassment grew for every second he waited.

"Thanks," she let out. "Be safe."

Jeremy smiled, showing two dimples that hid underneath his cheeks. Her lips curved in response. They glued their eyes to one another until Kinoki leaped on the porch rail. Jeremy waved at her and got inside. When he drove away, Lola called her cat inside, promising she will see him tomorrow. Her bells jingled as she trotted inside.

"I know you like him," she told her. "But don't forget you have me too."

Kinoki curled her spine against her legs to reassure her jealous human.

# Chapter 18

Darcus

Eibohn left as soon as Lola went to bed to update Avalon. "She will leave her cabin tomorrow morning." His soft voice traced around her ears. "Your health, you haven't recuperated."

"I'm not you," Avalon replied. The cold air still brought her to shake. "What was it you used to say? That you could grow your limps back if they were cut off?"

"It doesn't mean it was painless," he said. "Aveyonari Sames...you look troubled."

"I'm just afraid." She glanced at what remained of her daughter. A tiny pink figure that shouldn't have left her body. "I want nothing to happen to Lola."

"She surprised me when she agreed to help you." If Eibohn had lips, his slight smile frowned. "But I am not happy that you chose to do it."

"It was my choice."

"No. You gave me no choice. Now Serenata and I are tied to a human."

"Hush." Avalon glared at the black trees. They were void of light at the ground level. But they could not hide the eyes that glowed among them. She didn't see a catarelia in the sky, nor did she hear of any impact. Of course, he would find a way to hide that he was here. "Eibohn, return to Lola."

"I can't leave you with him, I can still help."

"What did I say?" she yelled in her mind. "I bounded you to the child, now go!"

The glowing eyes in the woods advanced, stepping towards the empty plane. The moonlight exposed his skin, wrapped in a darkness Avalon had never seen. He stepped towards her, close enough to see that his eyes were silver. She couldn't tell what kind of dust surrounded his iris. Perhaps it was pearl, hematite, or labradorite. But not a strand of white, silver, or grey hair was on his bald head. He smiled, showing the teeth bent with a sharp end.

His eyes dropped to Serenata's body, swaddled by a piece of cloth Avalon ripped off her shoulder. It answered the questions his masters searched for. He wouldn't get close after 10 ft, but if he were to try, Avalon would attack.

"Emperor Verus wasted no time in finding you. You didn't think what you had with him was love, did you? Even if he impregnated you, you were foolish to believe he would leave you alone."

Avalon should have known. The black film on his skin was no caspedian cloth, not the famed garment of Elites. She observed his steps and his stance. He carried no weapon, so it could only mean one thing.

He held a formidable skill.

"My dear Aveyonari Sames, woman of unlimited vigor. I must keep my secrets. So, you can stop sending me your thoughts. I will not give you my true name." The man turned his back, unafraid that she could dig her nails through his neck. "I'll take the name of Darcus. Yes. You may call me Darcus."

"You offend me with a fake name?"

He chuckled to his knees. "Aveyonari Sahmes, beautiful and intelligent. Of course, Emperor Verus would grow a liking to you."

Avalon laid Serenata's fragile body. She shouldn't have hoped she could stay until Lola gave birth. As she rose to her feet, her still eyes were set on the frozen body. Their fight was going to disintegrate her. She stared at her curled body for a moment longer, hoping to take in every detail of her face.

"Before we begin, I have one question."

"Anything for Aveyonari Sahmes, one of the greatest Elite of the Empire. Who would have known that beauty and strength are the road to a tragic end?"

"Stop taunting me." Avalon's hair floated. Her eyes rose to meet his. "What happened to Raiyne? Did your masters kill him?"

Darcus turned around, seeing that Avalon was ready to fight. His legs stood apart, giving her the sense that something didn't feel right. It was his sheer confidence.

"That detached beast is no longer your concern," He rubbed his chin. "Aveyonari Sames, last of the wing-folk."

"That is enough!" Avalon grabbed the boulder that served as her recliner. Her fingers penetrated the hard surface for a tight grip until she flung it at him. Her knees trembled until she coughed.

Darcus secured his parted legs and grabbed the boulder that moved him. He threw it back before she could wipe the blood from her mouth. She grabbed the other cracked boulder and throw it in time for both of them to collide and crumble. The forest rustled from the animals who heard the bang. His smile lingered, enjoying the sight of the panting Avalon.

"This planet is awful. But look at you. Standing on your own two feet and eluding the Maiden of Death." He walked around her. "Now, you honor me with your presence."

"I had much worse."

Darcus released a laugh. "You are so poised, Aveyonarisames, does nothing fear you?"

Of course, I have fears, you lowlife. Avalon screamed in her mind. She was gathering her energy, the same that she once gathered to kill Lola. The clumps of cells piled against one. But Darcus did something she couldn't have imagined. He breathed through his nostrils, where blue lines surfaced from his skin, circling his forearm and traveling to his throat.

"I-Impossible," stuttered Avalon. "Verus said he was the last one!" She stepped back, all while goosebumps crawled over her skin. "All the singing-folk were killed!"

But he proved her wrong, releasing a penetrating shriek. It expanded as sound waves, crumbling the ground underneath as it headed towards her. The sapphire in her eyes shimmered. The veins in her blood burned. Avalon released the cells that would have split a careless person into two. They intertwined against the voice, creating strings of energy. Like a cobweb, it blocked the vocal attack. Avalon fell to her knees and breathed the oxygen that harmed her. She needed to replenish her cells, but that required time. Time Darcus wouldn't give.

He plunged at her with a kick, forcing her to the ground. Avalon raised her arm, blocking his second swing. She swayed her leg from below and steered him away. As she staggered to her feet, she aimed for his neck, but he dodged it, trying to pierce hers. The ground trembled at their failure. Several cracks from below moved to the floor. Something was moving at an astonishing speed.

Avalon leaped into the sky, barely missing the sharp tip of a catarelia root. It tried to pierce her chest, but because it missed, Darcus joined her in the air, all while his silver eyes studied her shock. He wrapped her with his arms, allowing gravity to bring them to the floor. The root raised itself like a pike, ready to dig her heart out. The cells in Avalon's body replicated, sensing the danger. But they couldn't build the same force. She released what she could. It was enough for Darcus to let go. She shifted her torso, dodging the root, and landed on the ground.

But the earth grumbled once more. Ten roots sprouted to dig through her body. He planned this from the beginning. When they talked, his catarelia traveled underground, keeping Avalon under his trap. After several near hits, she stumbled against the floor, her leg cramped for the long days she spent waiting for Lola.

"Why have an abundance of energy with a body that is struggling to survive this planet?" Darcus watched with crossed arms. Around him, the pale roots grew in and out of the ground. "Why fight me when you have lost?"

One root reached her and shoved itself into her chest, barely missing her heart. When it solidified, Avalon broke it and swung it at her enemy. Darcus took it before it reached his throat. The vines did not waver, they relentlessly jabbed at Avalon. Fearing she would lose her stepping once more, she waited for her cells to regenerate.

"Aveyonari Sames, you're overthinking." Darcus was humming. He needed to in order to control the catarelia at will, proving he had the abilities of a singing-folk. His body shifted, finding interest in the direction Lola walked home. When the root hardened, Avalon broke another and threw it at him. This time Darcus raised another root to block it from piercing his head.

"I didn't know you had a neighbor."

She wanted to press her lips, grit her teeth, yell at him, but she couldn't give him a hint. Lola made her promise she would not let anything happen. The blue lines that made Darcus deliver a shriek gathered. They surfaced from his pore and drew themselves on his skin. The same glow that used to grow from Emperor Verus's neck was now on him.

"Stop!" she cried.

The veins cultivated, curling and wrapping his neck like a glow in the dark tattoo. Avalon concentrated while evading another from coming at her. She wasn't far, she could block his vocal attack. But she couldn't deflect the third, or fourth. Avalon returned to her Ascending Realm and brought out her astral form. The copy of herself divided her strength. She dropped to her knees, having never felt her power drained to a half. She watched her translucent-self dash towards the wood just as Darcus released a roaring shriek. The roots sensed her steps on the ground and aimed for her once again. This time she couldn't move. She glared at the roots that sped towards her until Darcus released a cry. The roots halted their assault. Brown roots, bearing the same color of Earth, have pierced Darcus's chest.

The Helix that Avalon stole from the palace sped through the golden roots. They intertwined against one another until the Helix forced the catarelia to come out of hiding, pulling it out like a weed plant.

"I saw what you did," Darcus grunted as he rose, pressing his hand to his chest. "You sent a copy of yourself to save that woman." He forced a smile. "But did you think I wouldn't send one myself? How else would I allow your Helix to pierce me?"

Avalon closed her eyes and breathed. She pressed her hand against the Helix that came to her rescue. The brown hardy exterior warped, rotating into jelly, turning itself inside out. It radiated its colorful blue and silver rays into the atmosphere. The round edges sharpened, while the ends became long, forming into a long sword. It hardened at the tip and vibrated shade of blue. Avalon gripped the handle, and readied herself.

Darcus hummed a low tune, bringing his catarelia towards him. It was no Helix, but because he was a singing-folk, he molded the catarelia into a sword of his own.

Avalon looked at the trees. They were swaying and cracking when Darcus released his shriek.

"Lola," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

# Chapter 19

Out of Options

November 1, 2050

Lola couldn't believe she was back in the same dream. The marbled floor was smooth once more, at the center was the same oak tree that bent like rubber. The shifting movements grabbed her attention to one of the droopy branches. The girl was there, sitting and swinging her feet. The hole in her chest was still there, missing like the hollowed trunk below.

"Why do you want this time?" Lola called out to her. The fog was back, covering the details and clouding the floor.

"What do you mean," the girl replied, without looking back. "We have never met."

Lola's eyebrows wrinkled in disbelief, but she softened them. It didn't matter if the girl remembered her or not. This was just a dream. The girl's feet started tapping. The gaping hole was still grabbing Lola's focus.

"What do you want?" the girl said, sensing Lola's eyes on her. "Can't you see I want to be alone?"

"Your heart," she said, remembering the girl accused her. "Did you figure out who took it?"

The tapping feet stopped, and the girl leaped off the branch. Her black hair swayed as she sauntered towards Lola. Her steps were light, feather-like, and refined. Lola pressed her lips, seeing her chest up close. Inside was what was left of her fractured ribcage, where the heart once rested. Her lungs were still there, expanding and shrinking when she breathed.

"You're staring," she told her.

"I'm sorry, it's just that I noticed the difference. You didn't have organs last time." But not everyone was intact, there was one more thing missing.

"Last time? I told you we never met before!"

"All right, you win." She sighed and moved the girl's hair from her face. "I suppose I keep forgetting I'm in a dream." The brush of the girl's black hair caused the tiny hues of lavender to swirl around her iris. She was around ten years old. It surprised her that she was calm while tears streamed from her indigo-colored eyes. "Why are you crying?"

"What?" the girl touched her cheek. "I'm not crying."

"Your tears are flowing."

"I told you, I'm not crying."

"Why do you keep saying the opposite of what I'm seeing?"

"Shh..." A translucent purple started to pulsate from her eyes.

"Here we go again," Lola whispered. "It must be the boots." When the ground started to tremble. She would have spread her feet apart to hold her balance, but her feet was stuck, seamed to the floor.

"Come on," The girl climbed her beloved black oak. "It's always safe among the trees."

"I can't." She felt a tightness surrounding her throat. As if invisible hands were surrounding them, constricting her windpipe.

"Did you hear that?" The girl stood at the edge of the branch that carried her weight. She looked up at the ceiling, unaware of her predicament. "It's coming."

Lola shuffled under the blanket, not sensing her cat's movements.

"Lola?" whispered Serenata. "Are you finally awake?"

Before she could reply, a blinding light illuminated through the bedroom window. The cabin trembled, shaking the legs of the bed. Lola held on to the mattress as the candles on her dresser cracked on the floor.

"What's going on!" Lola cried.

"I don't know, but I hear noises outside."

As the quake slowly faded, erratic lights from the bedroom beamed through the window. She grabbed the wool cloak she let Avalon borrow and button it up to her neck. She found Kinoki in the living room, underneath the sofa with puffed-up hair.

"This isn't the first earthquake to hit the forest," She told Serenata. She slipped into her mountain boots and meditated a few breaths. When she opened the door and stepped on the porch, she met an unnatural fog. It enveloped the forests from afar, masking them in thick coats.

"I sense a Lenur," peeped Serenata.

"Don't you mean your mother?"

"I...I don't know," stuttered the girl. "When a Lenur was around mother. They made me shiver. And right now, I can't stop shaking."

An arresting flash covered the north side of the forest. A blast of hot air followed until a scream boomed inside every bone in her body. Lola pressed her hands to her ears and crouched. Neon lights of blue and yellow splattered into the atmosphere. They lit the dark sky like a carnival in a rural town.

"Serenata!" Lola cried. "What's going on?"

"Mother," wept the child. "She's fighting."

"And Eibohn, where is he?"

"Eibohn doesn't appear to be with us. Not at this moment."

Another shriek thundered towards her, but the second blast rattled the pines surrounding the Ponderosa. The tiny hairs on her neck and arms rose like a magnetic charge. Eager to step away, Lola almost lost her footing. She stepped on some kind of sludge. A puddle of water covered the floor. When she turned on the porch light.

Her abdomen tightened.

Blood was trickling down her legs.

"No," Lola wheezed. The Pacific silver fir started to sway like tall grass in spring. "Not this."

The proud Western hemlock she admired sank like a ship and toppled over. Whatever was coming, it tumbled toward the silhouette of the trees until it snapped their roots from the soil. Lola huddled back inside, locked the door, and turned off all the lights. She pulled a clean hand towel from the kitchen drawer and folded it like it was a monthly pad.

"I hear him," whispered Serenata. "He's calling for me."

Lola moved her back against the kitchen wall, next to her table. She inched towards the window until her breath fogged the glass. Every second slowed her sense of time. He shouldn't be looking for me. Avalon was confident no one would hunt us down.

The ground trembled, stopped, and shook again. The steps were befitting for a 20 ft dinosaur, but instead of a T. rex, a man cloaked in darkness approached. When he stepped oner her weeds and cranked his head towards the cabin. Every muscle inside her wanted to jolt from the window, but she remained grounded. The fog should have masked the silhouette. But it swirled around him, not once touching his body. They were pale-skinned and silver-haired because of the climate in Osois. And he looked nothing like the Elite Avalon portrayed in her memories. When he stepped on the ground. The tremors dropped the flowerpot that hung from the ceiling rack. Lola jumped as it shattered to the floor. Every step bobbled his head. He was about to pass the cabin until he stopped to look at the kitchen window. Lola ducked and covered her mouth. She wanted to scream, but she held her breath.

"We must leave," yelped Serenata.

But where and how? They were miles from town, and her phone was charging in the bedroom. Lola moved up towards the window. Her eyes shifted, looking at every angle for the dark figure. In the blink of an eye, Darcus reappeared. They were a story high, and no latter was available to hold him. His breathing fogged the glass, but when he exhaled, it cleared. His lean body was muscular, and there were no sharp details on his face, except that blood oozed out of the socket of his eyes.

Blind or not, he sensed her.

When he coughed, he stained the window with black tar. His lungs wheezed when he withdrew and breathed. Earth was affecting him, poisoning him from the inside out. When he hovered to the next kitchen window, Lola discovered he was levitating. He circled the cabin and peered through every window like a fly who desperately wanted to get inside a summer home. A familiar jingle caused his rotation to stop.

Kinoki never went inside.

Lola felt her heart was about to fall if her chest didn't secure it. The shadow that stopped at the sound of her feline friend descended. His movements prompted Serenata to warn her.

"It won't be long before he finds the way inside. We must leave!"

The tightening in Lola's stomach kept her from thinking, from finding a solution. Each breath she took forced the bustle in her abdomen to throb. She bit her lip to keep her groans in until the spasm subsided. Without her truck, she was left with a shortage of options. She closed her eyes and listened for the bells on Kinoki's collar. Darcus was not threatening her, and her social cat was probably following him, so she depended on that to get her phone.

When Kinoki's collar jingled near the kitchen. Lola moved into action, waddling through the living room and taking the stairs. She continued down the hall and hurried to her bedroom until she came to a complete stop.

The Elite was looking through her window. His long lips opened, revealing his razor-sharp teeth. There was no endearing response with a smile such as his. Lola sluggishly stepped towards her drawer where she kept her phone in the charging station. When she snatched it. Her movements compelled him to speak.

"He said, 'let me see you, human,'" whispered Serenata.

"No," answered Lola. "I will not."

Darcus heard her and smiled. He turned his back and sank to the ground, holding to his word. Lola gripped her phone and hurried to the first floor. A strong wind was whistling through the gaps. The windows rattled like they were also afraid, muting Kinoki's collar.

Now the problem was which door to take. Lola looked at her options from the narrow hallway that separated the kitchen from the living room. The fog that wanted to enter her Ponderosa found an opening through the keyhole of the front door and leaked. Was it a sign? Should she go or stay from it? Because Lola didn't know, but she approached it to find out.

Kinoki scratched at the door so can come inside. But it was a dangerous move. There was nothing in the peephole. Lola pressed her ears against the wood and listened. The scratching stopped, leaving the howling wind as the soloist for the night. A creak on the porch broke the silence, and the doorknob started to shake.

Kinoki was not alone.

Lola lowered her head like the sound was bullets that needed dodging. She headed for the kitchen door and unlocked it. She turned the doorknob until the deadbolt recoiled. The click from the living room swung open, slamming the wall, bringing the wind and toppling the picture of Ms. Clarisse. It cued Lola to open hers. She slid through and closed the door with care. She marched off the steps and backed away. The wind was nowhere around, nor was it trying to break through the cabin. The forest was as quiet as the wings of a butterfly. The airflow came from the unwanted visitor who wanted to distract her. She was in luck. The rows of bearberry honeysuckle offered her protection. She watched the lights in the kitchen flicker, giving traces of light through the shrub she peeked through. Every room followed the routine until all the lights in the cabin illuminated the trees.

"What are we going to do?" said Serenata, but Lola hushed her.

If she were to venture through the forest, she wouldn't be able to see past six feet. The high and low slopes could lead to an unexpected fall. Kinoki leaped on the tiny kitchen windowsill. She wagged her tail when she sensed she was nearby. Her spirited mood was oblivious to her situation until a shadow hovered over her. Then her ears flattened, and her teeth came out. Every strand of hair on her spine rose like the needles of a porcupine. The second her cat leaped off to the ground.

The lights died.

All the windows in the cabin blew out, cliter and clattering on the ground.

Lola pressed her phone and whispered, "Call 911". A sleep-deprived operator answered. She murmured her address but had to pause after each breath to hold the pressures of her pelvic area. They constricted her muscles like the coiling tentacles of an octopus. She walked towards the front yard behind the lines of trees.

"911, what is your emergency?"

"My water broke," Lola added. "And there is someone in my home. I live in the Okanogan-Wenatchee —"

"Hello?" The woman replied. "Is there anyone on the line?"

"Yes!" Lola answered with more urgency than the first. "Can't you hear me?"

After a few moments of silence, the call ended. Lola dialed again. A different operator answered, but he couldn't hear a word.

"Unless you have an emergency, do not prank call!" he warned.

Lola called the Emergency Transportation number, but they couldn't be reached. She sent Dr. Graham several text messages, but they return undelivered. When she dialed his number, the ringback tone got no break. Mr. Müller's call was the same. The Park rangers station at the border of the forest followed after. Jeremy's name and number were last on her contact list. But she lost the hope to try.

Before she put her phone away, a hoarse sound came fluttering overhead. A flock of black birds left the deep regions of the forest and hovered over the Ponderosa. They folded their wings to their chest and dove through the shattered windows. Others lined up on the porch rail and fought for space. Jeremy's number still glowed underneath Lola's thumb. She stared at it, knowing the call wouldn't reach him, but her thumb was desperate. She wiggled the device to her ear and listened to the same tone. It came to a stop, following a long pause. A drowsy voice mumbled through the line.

"Jeremy!" Lola cried. "Send help to the Ponderosa!"

"Hello?" Jeremy said. "Are you there?"

Lola dropped her head. The humidity in the fog opened her nostrils and led her nose to drain.

"Is everything all right?" he continued. "I think you pressed the mute key." His concern trickled over her chest until her tears spilled. His voice was a brief blanket of relief over the calamity she heard in the cabin.

"I'm sorry," she trembled. "I'm sorry I didn't go when you asked."

"It's probably nothing," he trailed, ready to end the call. Lola moved her ear away from her phone and placed it on the ground. "But I'll be on my way."

She pressed the phone back to her ear. "Jeremy, what did you say?"

An ear-splitting screeched from the cabin, shattered the fragments that were left on the window sash. The sharp glass pierced the crows who stood on the rail. The survivors took the sky where it was safe. Kinoki left, hoping to escape the mess coming from the living room. She jumped on the porch rail and snarled at the crows who were displeased to see her. But because she was outnumbered, they harassed her back inside. The crows flooded the front yard when he was walking out.

He stood at the steps of the stairs. His mouth hung open, revealing his shark-like teeth. Lines of blue light curved his dark skin. Lola only had to see it for Avalon's memory to generate inside her. Emperor Verus's arms and throat would trace the same light when he sang, but the man coated in black was not him. Darcus's screech trembled the ground. Lola lowered her head under her arms to keep her eardrums from popping. The crows soared high, evading the same attack Avalon couldn't dodge.

But their response was suicidal. One by one, they swept their bodies against the dark Lenur. He retaliated by knocking them down with his fist. But group after group came, lunging towards him only to fall like droppings on the ground. A smart animal knew when to flee. For its survival, the time to call it quits was crucial. But the crow's hunger replaced their reasoning.

They yearned for the taste that was stolen from them.

Darcus leaped on the yard. He burst into laughter at the crow's he stepped on, crunching their necks and squishing their heads. Lola pressed the phone to her ear. The call had ended. When she put her phone in one of the deep pockets of her cloak, she looked at the forest that harbored the thick fog. Her only refuge was the pasty film and the trees that no longer felt like home.

# Chapter 20

Ruffled Crow

Spruce had low branches, so its needles could scrape the legs that passed them by. Lola sped through many of them until she could no longer hear the crows. She sat on the cold ground with her back against a wide trunk. Though she only stopped for a quick break, her shivering worsened. The drop in temperature caused the ends of her hair to frost. The pockets in her cloak could no longer preserve any warmth.

"Serenata," she panted.

"I'm here."

Lola gulped her saliva and nodded to herself. She told Serenata to always report when she called for her. It was the reassurance she needed to know the throbs in her stomach were less serious. While she rested, her mind carried many unanswered questions. One of them was the Elite and his overstay.

"I feel...sleepy."

"No," Lola shivered. "Don't fall asleep!"

The leaves rustled, forcing her to clamp her mouth. An eerie gust prompted her to turn on the flashlight setting on her phone. It was the grating sound of a shadowy figure. Lola's spine aligned with the trunk, hoping to become one with it. The shadow came back. It was light gray among the dense white fog until it darkened, passing Lola once more. It was enough to tap her nose with its black feather. As it maneuvered away, she prepared her fist and swung at the claws that wanted to grip her face. The assailant fell to the ground. He rose to its feet and cawed, taking offense that she hit him. Compared to his companions that attacked the dark Lenur, this crow was robust with ruffled feathers at the end.

She recognized his disheveled appearance as the crow who taunted her and Kinoki. It was also the leader Avalon warned her about. His eyes glowed a deep indigo with swirls of lavender twirling around his black irises. The sight made her lips quiver. They were the same color, the same shade of the girl in her dreams. Black violet replaced its charcoal feathers. When he stepped towards her, she grunted back to her feet. She didn't want to pet him, nor let him touch her.

"What do you want?" She felt silly for talking to the bird, but he was facing her like he was ready to start a conversation.

A second crow settled over a branch. Followed by the third, fourth, and fifth. They multiplied, becoming balls of flying reptiles fit for the 1960s The Birds. The crow with the unkempt feathers leaned its neck towards her. The motion brought a member of its group to dive towards her and pull strands of her hair. Fearing the dark Lenur heard her yelp, she got on her feet and marched forward, but not before a second crow swooped to pinch her shoulder. She waved her hands until she hit the fourth that nearly got her face.

The murder of crows was no ally, that much she knew.

"Serenata," she muttered. "Are you still there?" Behind, the indigo-eyed crow followed. The feathers around his neck looked like shredded tissue paper.

"She is asleep." A soothing voice replied.

"Eibohn!" Lola exclaimed. "Where have you been?"

"I was telling a good friend goodbye." He sounded relaxed for the charade of aerial attacks she was trying to dodge.

She sprinted to a straight line until she found a bulky trunk to press her back against. The fools flew ahead, but it was a temporary solution they would return. Avalon's smile and glowing sapphire eyes crossed over Lola's mind, allowing her to register what Eibohn said.

"She's gone?"

"Have you not accepted the news?" said Eibohn, sounding relaxed but annoyed. "Aveyonari Sames, or Avalon. That ridiculous name you gave her. She is no longer with us. If you want to mourn, do it later." He had long lost how to show empathy for the news of the dead.

"Why are the crows acting like this?" Lola squeezed her eyes shut like it was a dream she could stir from. But no matter how hard she tried, she could not wake up or keep Avalon's smile from flashing in her mind.

"The dark birds are tainted," said Eibohn.

"Speak clearly."

"The birds chasing you are no longer in the form of their Creator. Their beaks reek of Avalon's blood. But these abominations want more. Their focus is Serenata."

Lola held her stomach to brace herself. A contraction rolled to throb and squeezed her insides.

"The sac holding your child has ruptured, has it not?" Eibohn could not be fooled. "You are just in their way."

"Avalon said you could protect us, but you left!" Lola released another moan. Her frustration called the flying reptiles back. Now they huddled over her like a murky cloud.

"I went to ensure the Elite would not come to you," sparked Eibohn, withholding any apology. "There, I saw Avalon take out his eyes. She put up a fight worthy of her ancestors. But do not worry, I no longer sense him. He must report to the Emperor, or die in vain. You should make the journey back to your Ponderosa."

Lola pushed herself from the trunk and darted when Eibohn instructed her. The trees passed her by like pillars among the blanket of fog. She grazed between two lodgepole pines before smacking into them. But the near-miss stressed her hamstrings. They trembled from the rise and fall of the slopes she climbed. Above and to her side were the swooping crows, taunting her, and forcing her to stop.

The moisture in the air was thickening. The pine and conifers gave her little room to move as they too fought for space. She yanked her cloak from the brittle shrubs that entangled her. The water from her sac trickled down her legs and soaked her socks. They sloshed into her boots with each step. If the roots didn't nearly take her footing, it was the uneven ground with its rocks and stumps that carried slaps of moss.

The myriad of crows experimented on her. They tested several aerial attacks to see how she would react. When a line came from behind, she covered her face with her arms and grazed through the trees that would have knocked her down. When they charged at her from the front, they flew in head-first. There she readied her first and waved them.

She swayed through the trees, forcing them to divide and fly to her side. But her shortness of breath agitated her contraction. She ducked underneath the drooping branches of an Alaska yellow cedar to recuperate. The wave of crows gathered above reassembling and unwilling to give her a break.

They looked like a blotch of fluttering feathers aiming for her shelter. As they met her under her shaded tree, she darted from them with a tactless and clumsy swift. Her right boot sank on uneven ground where an open root tangled it. When she pulled it again, she bounced, springing her weight back on the left leg. It was the best she could do to avoid the fall, but she couldn't avoid the trunk in front of her. The impact came like a theater play coming to an end. The forest, the aggravating crows, and the indigo-eyed turned dark.

# Chapter 21

Red Sacrifice

A smudge of orange shyly stained the branches from the east. Now the forest was a tint of grey. They swayed and rustled underneath the pasty sky. The wind returned to the forest and, with it, its ambient noise that soothed Lola's ringing ears. Her body shivered from the ice she in her bones. A tightness on her upper lip made her wipe a line of crust from her nostrils. It was more than that. A part of her face was dipped in mud.

Though the sun was rising, the fog was blocking it, keeping Lola's skin and hair cold and moist. She grunted to her side and put her weight against her elbow. Her fingers traced the ground, searching for the phone she lost during the run.

"Don't move," whispered Serenata.

Her voice startled Lola, but she also brought immediate relief. If she was well, then her little one was also safe.

"It's nice to hear your voice," she whispered back. She licked her dried lips, not expecting her tongue had bits of mud.

"Eibohn said they've been watching you for a long time."

Because Lola was recovering from the head trauma, she forgot about the crows that lined up in every branch. They were on every tree, giving them the height to look down at her. They judged her like troops, prepared for battle with the enemy. Among them was their leader, who stood out from the rest. He turned one eye to the next to observe her. Each branch he perched on made his flock move aside.

They acknowledged him as their figurehead and respected him as one.

Blood dripped from the open tissue on her forehead. It brought a migraine with a pound on the side of her temple. When she rose to her feet and straightened her spine, warm liquid streamed between her legs. The tangy smell turned into vapor. She reached her hand between her thighs. When her fingers slipped under her underwear, she felt a soft head peeking through.

"Oh, my God!"

The crows jump from the alarm and resettle back on their branches.

"What is wrong?" said Serenata

"Eibohn, where is he?"

"We cannot speak to you at the same time."

"I need to talk to him." She was frantic, eager for a solution.

"I-I can try —"

Lola grabbed a sizeable rock and pressed it against her chest. Each step she made rubbed the head against her cervix. The crows followed, taking a new branch to perch on. Others preferred the ground. They walked beside her and bounced their feet. Two glided and heckle her, brushing the tip of their feathers to her cheeks. The ends of her hair were heavy from turning into ice.

"Keep going straight," said Eibohn, interrupting her desire to stone a crow.

"Are you certain the Elite left?" she asked, holding in her anger for survival.

"Strong he may be, he cannot resist the toxic atmosphere, not like your Avalon."

Lola felt her cheeks were boiling. The sweat on her forehead dissolved the crust she couldn't rub off. Her breath sank with each step while her lungs blended with her insides. Although she continued, the black exodus followed behind.

"Serenata is waking up," his voice faded.

"Did I do it?" said Serenata. "Did you talk to Eibohn?"

"We are going back to the cabin." Lola didn't want her to ask what happened to her mother. She didn't have the heart to tell a child that her mother was dead. Whenever she covered a few feet, the indigo-eyed crow would fly to the furthest branch and wait. Sometimes she couldn't take another step. The head was coming in and out of her birth canal. Every time the skin stretched, she shoved her fist to her mouth and took a bite. The unbearable pain was enough for the ruffled crow. He curved his neck and bubbled up a rattle down his throat. At once, the band of crows took to the air.

They dove like a wall made of onyx and slammed into her. While a group pulled and tugged on her cloak. The talons of others aimed for her face. Lola brought her arms against it and staggered forward. Though the sun was rising as promised, she couldn't see through the storm of crows.

Some were bashed by the stone in her hand, but as she felt their weight, she had to try something else. She secured her balance in a bowlegged stance and unbuttoned her cloak. When she swung the heavy fabric, it kept the crows from invading her personal space. She resorted to reason with them, begging and imploring that they leave her alone. But the crows were tireless monsters, their course changed. They regrouped and swarmed between her legs and pushed her to the ground. She locked her arms to carry her upper body while her knees were shaved from the impact.

The fall outdid her.

The crows withdrew to their branches to observe how she would get out of this one. Sometimes their beaks moved to look at their leader, who watched from the highest branch.

"Serenata?" Lola panted as she crawled to the nearest tree. "Serenata!"

"She fell asleep," said Eibohn.

"Please, wake her!"

"I can neither wake her nor put her to sleep. She fell unconscious. That is why I'm here."

"You need to help me get back to the cabin."

"Lola..."

"As soon as I get to the cabin, everything will be okay —"

"Lola, are you listening? Your child is ready to come out!"

"This wasn't supposed to happen!" A contraction returned. They came like needles, sinking into her stomach muscles. Her chest burned with anger for having been a fool. It wasn't the crows she wanted to curse at, it was Avalon, the Elite, Eibohn, and Serenata.

"I know what you're thinking," he guessed.

"Shut up!"

"I will tell you what led to the sudden labor, but only after you have calmed your nerves."

"It doesn't matter," she laughed. "It's over."

"I told Avalon it was an awful idea." Eibohn had given up too. He blamed Lola for not being strong, for being a mere human. "She should have killed you. Not trusted her only child to that weak body of yours, so fragile and meager." He then remembered the compliment Avalon gave her, and he wanted to take it away. "They lied to you. You don't have a grain of courage."

"Fuck you." Lola wrapped her arms around the trunk. She gripped the rough surface, hoping to stand, but her hold failed. There was no longer any control, no movement of her legs and feet. She leaned back and stared at the soiled boots that brought her here. They almost looked like the worn and dirty pair that chased her.

The source that paralyzed her came from the Maiden of Death. She crept behind her in the same twisted way it did to Avalon. Though her footsteps crunched the dry leaves, she was naked to the human eye.

Seeing her cloak was a little over an arm's reach away, Lola pushed for it, but the slightest movement made the crows uneasy. The hypersensitive ones circled from the sky, but many preferred the ground. A contraction came and compressed her uterus, squeezing longer than she could hold her breath for.

"Dr. Graham said everything was peachy," she said out loud for Eibohn and the crows to hear. "I had no risks, there was no talk of preterm labor!

"The news will not help you now that you are unable to move." Eibohn not only sensed the Maiden of Death nearby. He felt the ringing of her blade.

"Tell me," Lola demanded.

"It will cause you more distress."

"Tell me why this happened!"

"The man shrouded in darkness was no Elite." Eibohn had never seen someone like Darcus before. It made him uneasy because he had seen all the things in Osois. "But he knew his orders. When he met Avalon, he did something she and I did not foresee. He had the ability of the singing-folk. They were once Lenurs who could attack by the sheer sound of their voice. He screamed a deafening spell that traveled these lands until it reached you. His callous screech ruptured your sac and poisoned your womb." Eibohn had no sympathetic apology for the human. He was disappointed that she and Avalon proved him right. "What's more alarming is his dark body."

"Why should I care?"

"Elites have worn caspedian cloths long before the Dark War. He did it to hide his identity and have the upper hand against Avalon. Someone created him to look that way, but Lenurs do not create Lenurs."

While Eibohn shared his theories. Lola was thinking of the nursery, the wooden cut-out of the sun, and clouds she put on the wall. Then there was her yellow blanket. It was symbolic. Her child was her light, her hope of a future. She looked for it among the branches, finding the fog was keeping the sun from warming her. The leaves from above brushed her face, but she couldn't feel them. She laughed, hoping it would ease her sheer bad luck, a crappy mother, an abusive husband, now a murder of crows. Her sickening life would entertain others like a book.

"Stay alert," directed Eibohn. His voice her back to the present. "These creatures are scheming something."

But he shouldn't order Lola around. Having done nothing to help, she felt cheated. Avalon would have felt the same betrayal since she placed her complete faith in him. He abandoned us when Serenata and I needed him the most. He's now a useless apparition.

"Lola, are you listening?" snapped Eibohn, proving more and more of his disappointment of humans. "These tainted crows want to consume Serenata's Ascending Realm."

"And what are you going to do about it?"

Eibohn couldn't distract her with a reply. Maybe he had been helpful, and she just insulted him. Regardless, the crows animated, tired of their wait. Their black marbled eyes examined her pathetic state with every turn of their cheeks. Their talons made her nervous because she knew how sharp they could be.

"Listen to me," she said to the crows. "Do whatever you want with me, but I'm not giving them to you."

Her challenge caused a reaction. Eibohn told her to cover herself. But it was too late. The crows hailed like a volley of arrows. Their sheer violence came with their dagger-like beaks and talons. Lola couldn't fight back. Instead, she welcomed their incisions. She was ready to bear the pain in exchange for being the protector. The embodiment of love Ms. Clarisse once was. A flap of her skin dangled from her arm like a half-stripped bandage. They slit her upper leg open where her fat and red juices surrounding protruded. When she felt a snip at her cheek, she touched it to see how deep it went through.

The color on her fingertip was as deep as red as roses.

"They say the red rose is the universal symbol of love," Lola told this to the crows. "But roses do not embody love. It is the color we shed when we try to pluck one. Love is a selfless sacrifice." Her eyes flickered at the ruffled crow who didn't join his flock. "That is what I'm spilling."

The crows didn't care for her allegory, but Eibohn took her words with solemn understanding. She decided it was best to let her child die with her. It was cruel, but he understood. If the crows got to the child, they would not make it peaceful. Her abdomen tightened like a clenching fist that would break before it uncurled. Following it were movements that nudged at the surface of her stomach. The child was nudging the mother. Lola pressed her hand over the kick and whispered a soft no. The struggle continued when she felt another wave of protruding fists and kicks.

"Are you so desperate to leave me?" It brought tears to her eyes. "Even at the cost of never knowing the love I stored for you?" Whenever her child kicked, Eibohn felt it. He was, after all, holding Serenata's Ascending realm against the human soul, radiating through his protective layer. Inside he saw the child, moving and kicking to freedom.

"Your mom called it quits," he told the human child. "She's doing the best she can to keep you inside, where it's safe." But this was not the fate Eibohn wished upon Serenata. He wanted her to fulfill her call and bring the fear the Advisors whispered to one another. His focus returned to the glowing red ball, the human soul he surrounded. "What is it?" he said. "Speak."

"Life."

"I told you, there's a dead-end out there."

"Death."

"I know nothing of death. I have lived out beyond my time."

"Life."

If Eibohn could grow goosebumps, he would feel them now. Lola's chatter about the blood and sacrifice had a reasonable claim. Sacrifice was the opportunity for a new life. A soldier risking his or her life for their people, and country. A nurse treating the infected, knowing very well they could be signing their own death certificate. But Eibohn couldn't sacrifice Serenata to save the unborn human, nor could he do it in reverse.

He would have to be the sacrifice.

"Lola," he voiced out. "I will give your child and Serenata a chance to experience their own pain. I will employ every grain of energy within my grasp to save them. But I won't lie to you. You have no strength to defend your child. Are you listening, Lola? I don't know how it will turn out, but you must give birth right now!"

Eibohn went on and on with reasons to inspire her, but his words rang like an irritating alarm. Lola lost the desire to listen, and as a replacement, Kinoki came into mind. She hoped her cat survived the invasion. She opened her eyes, not realizing she had closed them. She was sinking in and out of consciousness. Dr. Graham and his frank remarks came next. As for his son, Jeremy. Whenever their eyes met, she felt something she shouldn't have.

Eibohn urged her not to give up, but she knew from the blood loss she wouldn't survive. With no one to take care of them, they would face the road of isolation she underwent.

It couldn't be better than death.

The Maiden of Death stood at Lola's side. Above was her scythe, made of wood and steel. There was nothing special about it, except that it was ready to break Serenata's Ascending Realm. Lola couldn't see the woman, but she saw the scythe. The crows tore through her clothes, piercing the flesh they found underneath. She winced, holding the pain for herself, but the kicks in her abdomen persisted. She watched the shifting and moving of her child, fighting for a way out.

"Very well," Lola whispered as tears filled her eyes. Eibohn's promises were empty words to her. He already proved he wasn't dependable. It was her persisting child that made her act. She gripped the head of the crow that stood over her shoulder and snapped his neck. The others that mauled over her pulled back, stupefied. She pulled herself up from the trunk but slid back down in vain. She tried again. This time she moved her numb limbs and rose from the ground until her knees locked. The crows resumed their anxious cawing, keeping a safe distance and daring not to get closer.

"This world is cruel," she grunted. That's what she wanted to tell her child. "It will hurt you, kick you, and spit at you." Lola gripped the trunk and braced herself for the next wave of contractions. "It will lie about your worth and make you hate yourself." She rested her head and looked up at the morning light. It glazed the edges of the needle-like leaves of the conifer trees with gold. It was like the painting of the Ponderosa from Ms. Clarisse's living room in Suite 97. "Don't be cruel because of it," Lola mumbled. "You are not the world."

The morning wind joined, swirling the fog, cooling the sweat off her forehead. It wasn't perfect timing, it was Eibohn's doing. He knew the fog surrounding her was not normal. Now he kept it from touching her, offering her clarity.

"Giving birth will kill you," he whispered. Those weren't the words people told a woman in labor, much less a first-time mother. But Lola already came to terms that she would die. Her skin stretched for the passage with a burning sensation. She screamed to ventilate her pain and dug her nails into the bark of the tree. Her howls reverberated through the rows of pines and conifers. Inch by inch, the contractions held a promise. Pushing would subdue her torment.

Her eyes shifted to the trees.

There she saw her from her dream. The girl's indigo eyes stared at her from the slouching oak tree that wasn't really there. Lola blinked and returned to her focus, back to the cawing sounds. She lifted her nightgown, reached between her legs, and grabbed a sleek body. She pressed the dangling body to her chest just as her knees betrayed her. Her back rubbed against the trunk until she fell to the ground. The tiny baby wiggled from the impact. The warmth and closeness they shared over the months evaporated from their bodies.

Their time as mother and womb had ended.

The baby gurgled, all while the face grew purple from the mucus blocking the airways.

"Breathe," Lola whimpered. She drew out the excess liquid and spat the content. "Breathe!"

A thunderous cry boomed into the woods.

The crows cowered from the ear-splitting wails of a newborn. But it lifted Lola's dampened spirit. Among the light that broke through, she analyzed every inch of her daughter, her tiny arms, and feet, her jet-black hair. Her eyes wrinkled shut while she cried for the trees and crows that bore witness.

Lola called for Eibohn and Serenata, but she could o longer hear them. They were now inside her daughter. Her head suddenly dropped, like a sleep deprived driver on the road. While she resisted the wooziness, she shielded her daughter with her arms. Having become accustomed to her cries, the crows made shifty movements. Their beady eyes carried a threatening gaze against the whimpering child who concealed the remaining Lenur on Earth.

One crow yanked Lola's hair to test if she had any strength to fight back. She shook her shoulders to let them know she will fight. But she nodded off, and dropped her head against the ground. The impact caused her eyes to jolt open. She cradled her daughter with one arm and used the other to crawl towards the cloak she left on the ground. She yanked it and wrapped her daughter's shivering body. She then kissed her forehead and pressed her against her chest.

The Maiden of Death watched. Because she harbored the soul of a Lenur, she had to take her.

Lola's arms loosened.

She almost dropped her baby until she nodded back awake. She rolled to her side and wrapped her arm over her. She grunted with tears sinking into the soil. Her bones have stiffened, and her weakened state made the crows confident. They stepped over her like she was no better than the leaves beneath them. Their focus stopped for the shuffling cloak. She made every attempt to move her arms, but what she saw was senseless trembling. But they pulled her cloak and dragged it from her reach. She wanted to cry out her daughter's name, but her voice left a short, coarse moan.

The crows worked together. They dragged the cloak until the umbilical cord stopped them from pulling any further. They wasted no time and puncture the gel-like band until it broke apart. They hauled the cloak ten feet from the immobile mother, who could do nothing but shed tears.

There was no miracle, no protective layer to show Eibohn's promise.

The intelligent birds pressed their dark talons against the fabric and unfolded the layers with their beaks. One by one, they unwrapped the heavy cloth like it was a gift. When the newborn was exposed to the cold, her loud cries no longer concerned them. They stopped to look at her before the indigo-eyed crow with ruffled feathers joined them. They bowed and gave him space. His body shifted when he climbed and stood over the infant's abdomen. His head dropped and studied the details of her body until he found it.

Lola tried to mutter a faint stop because she knew where he would strike. Don't do it! Her mind raced. Don't touch her! The ruffled crow impaled his beak into her daughter's chest like a hammer. The newborn's cry for warmth changed to agony.

Lola felt the pain in her own chest. It pierced her for the disservice. She couldn't raise her, witness her first steps, or watch her twirl in a dress. The shrieks and small hands that helplessly searching for her mother detained her from blinking.

The newborn cry stopped.

The ruffled crow raised his neck to pull the muscle enclosed with tiny veins. When the brachiocephalic vein snapped, the blood vessels of the circulatory system squirted red. His throat expanded and swallowed it whole. The gulp alone made his flock join the banquet, now engrossing the fabric with red. Not even the umbilical cord went to waste. Lola watched, shuddering for every time they split a piece of skin.

Neither the crows nor Lola noticed the shadow looming towards them. The transparent figure leaned to the weeping mother. Her frail, pale fingers lovingly brushed her damp hair, just like she had done in the past. No longer bounded by her wheelchair, she left the mother to see what the crows were doing. It brought her head to shake.

"Your poor girl." Her old blue eyes flickered at Lola, and her lips smiled for her sake.

Lola's tears bit like saltwater. She tried to call out her name but wheezed instead. Her fingers shook, wanting to reach for the woman who was like a mother to her. But Ms. Clarisse turned to a tall figure Lola could catch for a split second. His white hair hung past his shoulders. His voice danced like a soothing melody, like Philip Wesley's Dark Night of the Soul. What he whispered to Ms. Clarisse led her to frown. Her eye carried the sad news.

"I don't think you will ever see her again." She shook her head in solidarity. "But I will stay and keep her company."

Lola felt she was pulling her neck from trying to lift her head. A final teardrop held on to her eyelid. The others had given up. Her lips cracked as she tried to call out her name. But Ms. Clarisse placed her index finger between her lips.

"Shhh... go to sleep, child."

Hot air blew as obscene words came out without restraint. Lola listened, incapable of doing anything more than that.

"Dad, head to the hospital this instant!"

It was Jeremy's voice. She was in his truck, and the blaring sound told her he was driving beyond the speed limit.

"Dammit!" he shouted. "Yes — I called the emergency response team. I'm not waiting. The ambulance and rangers will meet me halfway. Dad, she doesn't look too good. Her placenta was out when I found her."

But what did he think of the Ponderosa? What about the cemetery of crows or the shattered glass that hopefully cut her weeds?.

"The baby?" His voice now grew calm, all while Lola clenched her fist. "I searched but found nothing. She was by herself. Yes, I searched the cabin, the whole area. Dad, I don't think she knows yet." Jeremy ended the call and remained silent through the drive. Every minute or so, his fingers would press against her neck to check her pulse. She tried to sound out his name, but out came air. Having grown used to her failure, she closed her eyes instead. The world of solitude she tried to break from would reclaim her.

Nobody would believe what happened in the forest.

Just as nobody would believe that her daughter's heart was taken by a crow.

Click  here to listen to Philip Wesley's Dark Night of the Soul

# Chapter 22

Matthews

December 29, 2056

Six years later.

Matthews wished he could shove his foot down the electrician's throat, but he was no longer among the living. Once the electrical control, cabling was fixed, they shot him. Now, the green lightbulb and buzz made him irritable. His other complaint was that three months had passed since his imprisonment. The jail cells were as comfortable as a walk-in closet with chipped bricks for flooring. And it was nothing like modern prisons. Not where the boys played basketball, lift weights, and tattoo each other. Instead, they were one-story deep into Satan's door.

Because the smell of feces and mold brought constant nausea, the men made it a game. The first one to hurl without warning was named Regan MacNeil until they forgot they were playing and tried again. Matthews lost a few times but not his cellmate. He was a strange one. He didn't puke like the rest, or complain about their injustice. Though he had a name, everyone called him Rat. Seeing they needed a rat in their prison, he met the requirements with his long pointy nose, small eyes, and bothersome squeaky voice. Rat had been a prisoner longer than the rest. He adapted and persevered their inhuman conditions at the cost of his sanity.

Matthews laid his back on grime covered in bacteria he wished was big enough for him to kill and eat. The rays of light no longer broke through the ceiling. They sealed it to keep the pack rodents from entering. When they used to crawl inside, they looked like juicy tri-tip on four little legs. Any potential disease they carried did not mean a thing to an empty gut. A deer mouse was more delectable than the molding bread and rotten fruit they threw at them.

After four days of buzzing green light, the men grew bloodshot eyes. First, they took our freedom, and now they take away our sleep. Matthews was a light sleeper, always had been. Every time he got close, Rat started yapping.

"The guards spoke of Shadow last night." Rat rustled, fidgeting around his spot by the bars like he had ants in his shorts. His tiny eyes peered through the gaps while his flat lips mumbled the same old nonsense. He didn't notice the dirt on his bony nose that wiggled when he spoke. His voice cracked like a boy at puberty. It was more irritating than the lack of toilet paper Matthews needed to wipe his ass. It made him share his feelings about it clearly with murderous intent.

"I'm in no mood to fantasize about your little hero, so shut your pie hole."

"Don' you worry. They'll turn off the lights." Rat wasn't getting the message. "Anyway, as I was saying..."

Matthews wished he would see him roll his eyes, but his cellmate was staring through the iron bars. He hushed him because it wasn't safe to speak. The guards could hear them if they spoke loud enough to leave an echo. They guarded behind an iron door, their only way out. Matthews called it the You're Screwed Door, YSD, for short because those who went through would never return.

"Think of the conversation we could have with Shadow." Rat gleamed at the idea. He was obsessed and would use any opportunity to make the topic about him.

Matthews had not yet decided if he existed. Not when their knowledge of him came from two unreliable sources. It was Ethan, the controlling turd who hated their prison floor, and Colin, the lunatic regular who liked to torment the men. Before Shadow came into the picture. The prisoners shared their lives on the surface and offer hope to one another. It helped him endure another day. But now the once respectable scientists and professors were taking on an uncommon hobby.

Shadow.

Matthew's cell was furthest from YSD. He had to wait before he got any bowl of gossip-soup through Liam and Terrance, their elected journalists. Though they were near the exit, they were also the first to be terrorized. Keeping posts as a guard was a tedious job. What else can they do but talk? Shadow locked in the Nutshell, a confinement room made of thick sheets of steel. Stories of his disobedience turned him into a club hero, only Matthews wasn't a member. He wanted concrete evidence before he could believe such a man existed. Colin and Ethan called him a vermin and demon, but the men stuck with Shadow because they don't endorse name-calling.

The last guy who went to the nutshell was Oliver, he was influential and their favorite outspoken prisoner. When he came back, he described the shell as a cold dimension that he felt took him into another world. The hours he spent was staring at a blurry reflection of himself that made him hypersensitive to light.

When he got out, Oliver returned a changed man. He hated the silver color for the headache that never left him. He lost interest in talking until the day of his execution. The poor fool permanently left a word in Matthew's mind after Colin and Ethan dragged him away. He didn't yell it out, nor did he whisper. It came like the vibrating imprints of a gong.

God.

Oliver's execution stripped his hope of getting out. When Shadow came, everyone forgot about Oliver. It was their betrayal that turned Matthew into a pessimist. He kept his memory alive, building fresh ideas of the Abundant One. The leader often paid them visits to preach about God and his wrath against them. His control over the community smelled like a cult leader. They treat them like sacrificial cattle with elected dates of execution. But being a professor of archeology, he knew of the damned ritual. He studied ancient people and their cultures and taught urban anthropology for eight years. This Abundant One was hiding something, and he was using his followers to protect his secret. Matthews tried to inspire his cellmates and show them how they could subdue the guards, but the men were becoming afraid.

There were twenty of them. The youngest was fifteen-year-old Michael. They accused him of rape, but he said he didn't do it, said his stepdad hated him. Now he was among them, without proof, and no questions asked. When asked, Michael wouldn't tell them about the community that lived above ground. It took a lot of probing before the teenager had it and told them they wouldn't believe him.

"I came from a different world," he would answer.

As he expected, nobody did. After that, he refused to answer any other question. His cellmate Samuel was the oldest of the group. The forty-nine-year-old often kept to himself, his ingredient to survival, or so Matthews liked to think. Anyone older than him would not last a month.

"What will we hear next?" exclaimed Rat.

"You guys are nuts. Complete wackos for believing in fairy tales." Matthews eyed Rat, who was Shadow's biggest fan. "Colin and Ethan will do anything to give us hope and shoot it down."

Because New Years was coming. A new month meant one of the men would leave their cell and never return. They were picked every first, middle, and last day of the month. Colin and Ethan were careful not to talk about why they did it. Even the young Michael admitted he didn't know.

Matthews rested his hand against the cracked concrete that made his imprisoned home. He was certain the worst the men have done was perhaps their infidelity, not paying their taxes, or driving past the speed limit. But what connected them was their profession. They were scholars, professionals, and experts in their desired field.

No one was worthy of this hell hole.

They were guiltless men.

# Chapter 23

Cultists

December 31, 2056

Matthews didn't know memories could come back to him as dreams until it happened. He felt the sun and its UV rays penetrate the pores of his skin. A group of strangers was dragging his body into the rural desert and off the road. He was in a daze as a dotted trail of his blood was wiped by the man who followed. Matthews was heading back home from an emergency trip to Arizona. His mother fell ill, and he feared she would not make it. Before he could cross the borderlines of Utah, they attacked him.

"You know why you're here." The groan had a familiar croaky voice.

It was Trent.

That morning, Matthews stopped at a truck-stop diner for breakfast when the heavyset man took a seat next to him and ordered his plate. There, Trent asked various questions about his career. He found it a bit strange but enjoyed his company. When he saw his vehicle in the rear-view mirror, Matthews thought nothing of it until Trent sideswiped him. He tried to regain control, but he fishtailed off the road and rolled like his son's toy car.

Trent, the oversized abductor, squeezed his thick fingers into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He shook his head as the flies buzzed their interest on the gash on his temple. They hauled him by his foot and let his head scrape against the ground. Trent whispered the department Matthews worked for to the strangers who tugged him like a bag on garbage day.

"Archeology, huh? You don't have God's permission." A sidearm from one of the men stroke his face.

Matthews squinted, unable to make out the model, but it felt like a 44-magnum revolver. The memory he wished he didn't have to relive in his dream ended. His senses brought him back to his small cell. The odor of feces made him gag until he spat a lump of mucus. They turned the lights off when he slept. Finally, Colin and Ethan were doing their job. But now he was too alert by the traces of dung to sleep. He cradled into a ball to think of his regrets, the truck stop diner, eating breakfast with Trent and sharing what he wrote on the Indus Valley. He expected to have more time for a pity party, but the musky green light blinked on. Matthews blinked a couple of times to get his pupils adjusted. Liam and Terrance reported that Colin and Ethan have ended their shift. It was always a risk, but it was safer to speak when they no longer guarded YSD.

The rustles of the neighbors started with popping bones and long yawns. Their whispers scattered in each cell. Rat scooted near the same corner by the bars, and pressed his ear to the walkway, hoping to pick up every conversation that crossed the room. Liam and Terrance huddled with one another to review what they heard from Colin and Ethan. They had to agree before announcing sensitive information. It made Rat impatient, but he was not the only one.

"What did you hear?" a cellmate called out.

"Tell us," another added.

Everyone was eager to tune in for the latest update on Shadow. They were a bunch of idiots to Matthews, but he'll do anything to kill time. He joined Rat and leaned near the rusty bars.

"I'm not lying!" shouted Liam. He moved away from Terrance, who shook his head. It was normal to see them disagree with what they overheard. But their debate for the disclosure often made Liam lose his patience. This was one of them. He leaned to the bars, ready to spread the news without Terrance's approval.

"Shadow has done it again!" He waved his hand at the men who already gave him their attention. "He took another guard last night. Almost kissed this place goodbye!"

"But did he succeed?" said Terrance, who rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"No, but he will next time!" Liam was your typical short-tempered guy. Anything he said, everyone had to believe unless they want a grown man to throw a tantrum.

"I knew it!" quivered Rat. "M-Mathews, did ya' hear?" He giggled like a five-year-old who took the first bite of a birthday cake that wasn't his.

"I have ears." Matthews became intolerant of Rat's attire. His khaki shorts look like wrinkled mud. His muddy tank was once white. Now it looked like fertilizer and urine.

Rat turned to face him. It made him cringe from the crooked way he turned his neck. "No one can outwit Shadow!"

Wrong, was Matthews's private response. They give him too much credit. Anyone who disobeyed the rules was not spared, yet he is allowed to live another day. To restrain his bias, he would nod at the fictional idea of Shadow's accomplishments. But because Colin and Ethan talked about him so carelessly, he couldn't join the fanbase. There had to be a secret behind the name.

The cell constricted Matthew's inclination to stretch. It was hard to breathe through the nostrils with Rat hogging all the air. He sucked it like it was coming to him through a straw. Matthews was ready to come up with funny ways to pick on Rat's appearance until Terrance moved his ear to YSD.

When he first arrived, Terrance was fat and appealing in a cannibal way. Now he was all bone. He hushed at the few who pointed out his disturbed look. To help Terrance, Liam cursed at every nosy cellmate to shut their mouths. Unlike his hot-tempered cellmate, Terrance was a humble man. Despite their distinct personalities, they made an excellent team. Matthews looked up to them as their messengers from the outside world, or at least they were. They're just headliners of Shadow and his tactless attempts to escape. Terrance jerked his head back as if the bars electrocuted him. Liam dragged himself near the steel-plated door.

"What do you hear!" cried Rat.

Matthews slapped the back of his head. He yelped and pulled back like a child.

"You want to get us in trouble?" he whispered. Rat sulked and curled his back against him. As he was preparing to give him a piece of his mind, the door creaked open. He grounded his teeth from the screeching steel door that needed oil.

Rat's loudmouth needed another slap, but Matthew's fear of the Cultists pulled him back. He learned to be obedient since day one. Every prisoner withdrew to the corner where they piled their shit. Since they smelled like roadkill, Colin and Ethan preferred they kept far. They learned the rule when a new prisoner stood near the bar to snarl at Colin and Ethan until he met a bullet to the head.

Matthew gritted his teeth at his whimpering cellmate to stay quiet. He promised no harm will come to him if he kept his lips shut. When YSD opened, Rat left the bars and joined him. The stench in the back dried his lungs, and his gag reflex kicked. Michael and Samuel's jail were across, standing over their feces like the rest. Their heads bowed, and their lips shut. Matthews also lowered his head and kept his eyes at the wastes he stood on. It was not the cult leader they wanted to avoid, but Colin. He liked that the men feared him, but preferred they disobeyed so he could have a reason to torture them. To resist his desire, the men behaved better than any student candidate for the citizenship award.

"Who opened their mouth?" The poor excuse for a voice was Colin, evil in flesh and bones. "These sinners haven't learned a thing. Abundant One, can we execute the one who broke our rule?"

He and Ethan circled the cells, searching for the one who spoke. Matthews dug his nails into his worn-out jeans. The leader who led the community was here. He lifted an eyelid to see him. The Abundant One's beard hung over his white priest-like garments. He stood with a slanted posture and with one shoulder hanging lower than the other. His spine resembled a dry plant that bent for water. He walked like a century-old man, yet his face was wrinkle-free. Nonetheless, the minister was wicked.

"Technology." His voice was deep-rooted and wary. "There is nothing wrong with technology, it composes everything." His footsteps were light, not nearly as noticeable as Colin and Ethan's heavy boots. "Science and machinery," he continued. "To detect and investigate matters of life, there is nothing wrong with knowing." He strolled closer to the jail cells, unaffected by the stench. Not like Ethan, who kept a safe distance. "The mistake!" he hollered. "Is humankind. You cannot hold the power of knowledge as a right. Having faith in the advancements of machinery is a sin. If humankind is the ambassador of flaws, then that is what you create, human flaws."

His speech always agitated Matthews. He wasn't a church going guy and only said God when he had a near-death experience. Now the sound of this vengeful God made him wish the cracked ceiling above would crumble and crush him. The Abundant One often walked around the cell floor for hours to tell the men how condemned they were.

Sometimes he believed him.

"You are here to repent for your mistake, to atone, and perish. When your blood falls on the soil, Earth will regain its right over you. It will suck you dry and send you into the depth of the inferno."

As expected, Rat fell to his knees and resorted to mumbling. He shivered like a child with his hands clasped together in prayer, reciting verses of the Bible. "Deuteronomy 31:6 'Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you. He will not leave you, nor forsake you.'"

Rat was a slow thinker. That was how Matthews could best describe him. But he respected his tendency to quote the Bible for an occasion like this because it kept him from wailing. But there were exceptions, rare moments when he would relapse into the person he used to be. The psychiatrist who was taken out of YSD last month believed Rat developed schizophrenia with a dissociative personality. The remaining clue of who he was, came from his unshaken faith. Colin's sinister smile aimed for Rat.

"Keep it together," he whispered to his mumbling mate when he was really telling himself the same thing. He often spent his free time imagining himself on top of Colin, punching his distorted nose back in place. He acted like a civilized man among his peers.

Among company, Colin wasn't so bad. But when he was alone, and he would point his gun in everyone's face. Liam was used as a punching bag when Colin was under stress. When he left, Liam would laugh and tell everyone it was probably because his wife wasn't giving him any. But he preferred to get beaten over a cellmate who was forced to eat his own feces. Colin enjoyed breaking things too, arms in particular, just because he wanted to hear the bones crack.

Colin was sick.

He knew it, he liked it, and he loved it.

"Abundant One, we mustn't postpone our monthly ritual because of the vermin," said Colin.

"Don't tell the Abundant One what to do," scolded Ethan. "We must execute the sinner tomorrow morning. We can't allow such an abomination to continue living."

Ethan was different. His focus was on the cult and his duty over the community. He hated coming down to visit because his weak stomach couldn't stand the musky odor of shit. Ethan should have run out to vomit, but he was acting like a brave soldier for the Abundant One.

"Enough," said the leader. "I find no suspicious activity here. We must prepare for the demon's cleansing."

Everyone's ear would perk up like a rabbit if they had one. They mentioned shadow without hesitation. And the minister assured Ethan, and Colin tomorrow would become a historic and unforgettable event. Their voices faded with the YSD screeching shut.

Everyone held their breaths until Rat mumbled, "Is the coast clear?"

Matthews leaped off the pile of muck and scraped the slime off his feet. Terrance waved his hand around to signal their visitors were clear of earshot. Matthews rustle back to the iron bar, away from his own scent. He scowled at Rat.

"You almost got us killed, quit goofing around."

"Hey, Rat!" yelled Liam. "Pull that move again, and I'll shove my fist down your throat!"

Rat stretched his arms through the bars and told Liam his middle finger was for him.

"Let's all get rested." Samuel's deep voice made a low echo. It was enough to calm Matthew's desire to choke Rat. "Tomorrow will be one hell of a day."

"Will they really execute Shadow?" said Michael.

Colin liked to torture him the most. He wouldn't leave without making sure the teenager had a bruise. To keep him alive, Samuel tended to his wounds.

It was a job the old did for the young.

"Oh well," said Liam. "He's dead tomorrow. It was fun while it lasted guys."

"He'll find a way out!" yelped Rat. "I'm sure of it!"

"Ay Matthews, tell your damn mate to get in touch with reality," sneered Liam.

The prisoners divided, taking Liam or Rat's side on Shadow's chances of survival. The argument quickly turned into a screaming match. Terrance and Samuel tried to silence them, but they were unsuccessful. Matthews listened, wanting to sleep and numb himself for another day. But the noise banging against the bars disappointed him. They have forgotten we are still captive in this hellhole.

Matthews understood to the Cultists, technology was not all bad. It just couldn't be the form they didn't approve of. Anything related to electronics and their plans to explore the galaxy was destructive to them. That is why the prisoner had computer engineers like Samuel and business owners like Liam. Many were scientists, ranging from fields in biology, chemistry, and physics.

But the weird one among the mix was Rat.

Samuel said he remembered a bit of him before he lost his mind. He was the pastor of the community above, but the Abundant One changed his position. Matthews probed him with questions, but he wouldn't share anything related to his life before his imprisonment. Like Michael, he would say his world was different. But Rat insisted the community above have become puppets who followed a false leader. He said the Abundant One was a man with evil aims who the word of God to control his followers. But when Matthews reminded him that God left them to suffer. Rat took no offense. He smiled and objected, saying he wouldn't understand His plan until he accepted his role in their mess.

Matthews never enjoyed Rat's prayers, not when he would chatter senselessly to the wall about gospel music. But he was harmless, and most of the time, he pitied him. He was right in one aspect. The ones who locked them wasn't the so-called Creator. It was the scummy leader of the cultists. He hoped the men could help gather intelligence on the Abundant One. They were once organized, but those efforts disappeared, and Shadow was at fault.

"Matthews, you okay?" Rat was watching him think. It was a routine he did when he didn't want to talk to him. When he wanted to disappear from this depressing place. "Hey Matthews, you think Shadow will get out?" He ignored him, regretting the thought of feeling sorry for him. "I don't think they will execute Shadow," he continued. "They said it to scare us."

"Yeah, yeah," Matthews said, turning his back towards him. He wanted him to shut up.

But Rat couldn't get a hint. "What if Shadow is here to save us?" He nudged his shoulder. "Stop sleeping and answer! What do you think of Shadow?"

"Dammit, Rat!" Matthews hollered. "Shadow does not exist. He's a figment of your imagination! Everyone needs to return to reality! The Cultists are up there. But instead of planning our escape, everyone wants to know which hand Shadow scratches his ass with. Don't you fools get it? We will rot until they do God knows what!"

Matthews's throat began to ache, so he left it at that. He expected Liam would give him a few comebacks, but not a peep came from him. Though he silenced them all, he hated that he felt guilty for wounding their optimism. Rat curled into a ball and hugged himself with his knees pressed to his face.

Now he was interested in sleep.

Matthews laid back down and apologized to them in his mind. To preserve his sanity, he recited who he was before his world ended. His full name was Matthews Nealson. He was the missing professor from his home university. He was the son of divorced parents, his wife was a faithful woman, and his friends have been in his life for decades. It didn't sound like a miserable life. He wondered if his family was looking for him. If he escaped, what would he tell them? If he died, what will they say about him?

He tossed and turned to his side. Those Cultist devils think they're talented. When Trent and his men blindfolded him to keep him from knowing their location, they took him for an imbecil. He approximated the distance by counting the time and using a rough guess of the speed of the vehicle.

The heat and dry land underneath his feet, and the sound of various vultures were indicators. Where else could they hide other than an expansive land that would cover many states?

What better than the Mohave Desert?

# Chapter 24

Rat's Plan

January 1, 2057

Rat's violent tugs brought Matthew to dream he flew off a building. He kicked himself awake and gasped for the secondhand air. But his cellmate's hand tightened his lips. An unpleasant scent lingered on his fingers. It made him angry until he noticed how they shook. He moved his hand aside and promised not to bark at him. From the corner of his eye, he could see Liam and Terrance extend their arms through the bars, and gestured that the guards left their posts. Before Rat could ask what they heard, an iron door silenced him. It was irritating the hallway until it reached the root of their teeth. The rumpus sound came from the silver room Oliver once spent in isolation, the Nutshell.

"That must be Shadow," chuckled Rat.

"And what of it?" Matthews said, yawning.

"You said he doesn't exist, but you heard it!"

"Your crazy friend is right," said Liam. He heard Ethan command a working guard to get Shadow out of the nutshell for the final cleansing.

"As much as it's hard for you to believe, Rat is right." Terrance leaned to the iron bars to update the rest. "Shadow is real."

"You say this solely because the Nutshell opened." Matthews's skepticism couldn't falter.

"Who was sent there recently?" added Liam. "Give me a name."

"They took Oliver."

"Oliver is dead!"

"They will take Shadow to the black church," croaked Michael. His sore throat wasn't from dehydration, it was one of his fevers. He swore never to share any information, but seeing it was Shadow, he felt motivated to talk. "When I was with my people. That's where they took the prisoners."

"For what purpose," Samuel replied. "Tell us, son."

Michael looked at Rat, whose shaky eyes steadied on him. "We shall cleanse Earth."

"Cleanse?" said a confused Samuel.

Michael looked away in silence, seeing Rat stared at him without blinking. He wasn't supposed to talk about those things.

"Well, look at the bright side." After his harsh comment, Matthews could see why they were so keen on making him believe. "At least none of us will be executed this month. Let's hope Shadow has the brain to kill the Abundant One. Without their leader, maybe they'll free us."

"You're full of it," said Liam. "We're dead, anyway. If you guys want, I'll volunteer for next month." With no warning from him or Terrance, the YSD screeched open.

The men withdrew like cockroaches exposed to light. Matthews felt the acid in his stomach, the acid, and the smell of their waste didn't help one bit. The lime-colored lights returned, seeping through the veins of the prisoners. The irregular footsteps were befitting for a drunk man.

It could only come from one person.

"Happy 2057!" Colin was in a good mood, it was worse than his bad ones. Unlike the Abundant One, the prisoners gave him their undivided attention.

It was permissible when he was alone because he hated being avoided. Matthew raised his head, finding the glitter in Colin's brown eyes. His mustache smashed against his dark beard. Instead of cargo pants and a t-shirt, he was dressed like a medieval fair threw him out.

"I know, I know, we disappointed you all. The Abundant One said no purging for the new year. But did you believe he would let you off the hook while I'm in charge? Wrong! It's time for January's execution. You know the drill, one of you has to go!"

Colin took his 9 mm pistol and fired. Matthews shut his eyes the moment he touched his holster, not knowing who he aimed at. He cowered on the ground in the same way he did when he dropped his mother's favorite mug. Colin spun his gun and chuckled. He didn't aim at anyone but won their attention.

"Oh, I know you!" he exclaimed with a hint of sarcasm and pointed his weapon at the feverish teenager. "You're Ralph's stepson! My, how you've grown!" Michael's pale face drooped from his sickness. The boy had lost the will to live. "I am disappointed in you, Mick. You tried to rape that poor girl!"

Colin pulled the trigger and released a bang.

Michael wailed and grabbed his leg. The pungent bullet reanimated his soulless demeanor. With the boy as the chosen target, the prisoners remained obedient without a fuss. It was a universal shame they felt on their backs for being too afraid to defend him. Michael cried in agony while Samuel pressed his palms against the bullet wound.

Colin wasn't the type who laughed at his evil deeds. He fed his perverse pleasure with a silent gaze. But the pain was unbearable for Michael. No reassurance from Samuel could calm him. He begged Colin to kill him instead and to do it right away.

"Now, why would I end your life when I want you to feel what I have done?" Colin's smirk led him to aim his weapon at Michael's head, giving the teenager a sense of peace. But he moved his aim and fired at his other leg.

Matthews felt his teeth were ready to shatter by how much he clenched them. If the teenager were his son, he would have lost it. The wails brought Ethan from the hall. He, too, wore old-fashioned garments, the rags at the waist were dyed with a black stain. They were not neat or modest, not like the Amish or Mennonites. He shielded his nose and furrowed his eyebrows in disgust. When he realized what Colin did, he shook his head with disapproval.

"I told you to supervise them, not shoot them," he announced. "The Abundant One is ready to expose the devil to the community."

"Excellent, anything is better than watching these dogs rot," said Colin, placing his 9 mm back in its holster.

Ethan looked at Michael's injuries with a brief span of sympathy for the boy, but he reverted to indifference.

"Did you have to shoot him? He's still your brother. It's against our beliefs to pick on prisoners with personal attachments."

"He raped Charlene's sister." Colin strode away like the prick he was.

"You know there was no proof Michael even touched her. She took her own life because you agreed they should imprison him." The reminder made Ethan feel a lump. "You know it was your stepfather, and you set him free."

"And where is he?" snapped Colin. "Dead by the hands of the vermin." He teased his sympathy for his dead sister. Ethan responded by shaking his head, seeing his reasoning was a waste of time.

"Coward," echoed a voice.

Matthews cocked his head at Rat. His cellmate was leaning by the bars. Before the guards turned their heads, he grabbed Rat by his dirty tank and pulled him back.

"What are you doing?" he whispered with silent rage.

Rat's eyes expanded, showing his pupils were dilated. "Oh, you don't get it, don't you, Matthews? I have been waiting for this ever since Shadow came to us." He grinned. "This must be why we left Asylum. Therefore, I will not rot here any longer. I will see Shadow with my own eyes, and you'll see that I am right, and you are wrong!"

Matthews pushed for the guards to leave in his mind, wanting to relax his tense muscles. But Colin and Ethan paced ahead, their eyes locked at their cell. They were whispering to one another, so he hushed Rat to listen. But he mumbled and rambled about his dream coming true. He begged him to stop and reassured him he was wrong and insisted he apologize to the boots coming their way. But Rat cackled in response — he was not sorry. It was also too late to persuade. Colin and Ethan stood in front of their cell.

"Speaking is prohibited —"

"Do you believe the Lord will forgive you for the things you do to us?" He was never the confrontational type. "You're pawns to a false preacher!"

"Guards!" rang Ethan. "We have a blasphemer!"

Colin's twisted smile returned.

He wanted this to happen.

He was about to be entertained.

The guards that patrolled the hallway secured the floor, so Colin could unlock the cell. Matthews pressed his back firmly against the wall as they dragged Rat out. Colin readied his arm and delivered a blow to the gut. Ethan and another guard yanked Matthews by the neck like he was a dead animal.

He cried, resisted, and scarped his nails against the wall he grew to hate. Now he saw it as his only comfort, and it was leaving him. He hollered every offensive word in the curse dictionary at Rat, who looked back with contentment. He was willing to choose execution as long as it led him to Shadow. But the curses didn't last long. One guard kicked his jaw and ordered him to shut it. As a result, he tasted the red mucus that streamed down his lips. He spat and looked at the men, safely locked in their jail cell.

They watched with grieving eyes, carrying more pity for Matthews than their foolish Rat. It even made Michael silent. He thought they would look at him with relief because it wasn't their turn to be goners. But he was mistaken. His companions were disappointed, saddened that it wasn't them. Do they really find Rat's actions justifiable and worth dying?

The guards handcuffed the stale, dirty men and wrapped a heavy chain around their stomachs, locking their arms. It connected Matthews to Rat, keeping them together and easy to find should they make a run for it. They pushed them forward towards the only exit out of here, the door Matthews nicknamed the You're Screwed Door.

Now it was about to screw him with a sad irony.

Matthews stumbled over the chain that connected them. Meanwhile, Rat rushed forward to catch up with the guards, almost tripping him. Their disordered pace antagonized Colin to pull out his gun.

"You two better stay silent," he warned. "One little peep and I shoot you both,"

The only thing that drove Matthews forward was the odorless air. Ahead, the natural light awaited. The underground prison was always going to lead to his death. Yet Matthews felt his smile corner his cheeks for the first time since his imprisonment.

He longed to feel the sun again.

# Chapter 25

Shadow

January 1, 2057

Matthews had never seen his skin this pale. He feared it had also become thin, so thin the sun would burn through. A tiny dust devil enveloped and swept the sand under his eyelids. It was difficult to breathe the warm air with Colin tugging them forward.

He moved as much as he could but was appalled by the community. They made their homes out of stucco and concrete. Red bricks filled the streets for horse carriages to trot on. The women wore long-tattered dresses, with brown mud-like bonnets to cover their tangled hair. The men wore trousers with straw hats on their heads. Barbed wire surrounded the community, and it didn't seem to be for protection. The sharp ends were bent forward, keeping their members from leaving.

Rat was uninterested. He knew the layout of every building and saw that nothing had changed.

When the quiet atmosphere was swarmed with villagers, doubling to two-hundred people. Their eyes were dark and sunken, as if they were carrying a foul sickness. They followed Colin and Ethan, who led them forward. A black church was at the center of the town, facing a pyre where a charred body slumped over. A black wire was used to surround the abdomen to the stake. The smell brought chills to Matthew's spine. They practiced was like the Dark Ages he only read about.

Rat moved close to him and whispered what he wouldn't share underground. The residents believed the world was on the verge of ending, and they were chosen to repopulate.

"The Abundant One poisoned their minds." He almost choked at the smoke. "But I didn't know he was false, I thought he was one of us."

"What are you saying?" Matthews hated when Rat left out the important parts.

The wind that carried a foul stench stopped them. They pressed their lips to avoid their gag reflex. It came from the wooden platform that was as dark as the black church. Anyone who smelled roadkill would recognize the scent. Matthews covered his nose to hold back the compulsion in his stomach. He has seen the gallows from textbooks and movies, but the Cultists built one for intended purposes. It was the second irony for the archeologist to see the age of witch-burning before him. Now it was the old style of execution of New England's 1700s.

The steps to the platform fumigated their nose with rotting flesh. It had stained a red pool of smudge leading to the stairs and platform in blood. Matthews's nostrils flared when his feet sank into the jelly slime of oxidized blood. He wondered if among them was what remained of Oliver. Four torture tables circled a trap door where a noose swayed by the wind. Rat almost slipped by the pieces of shredded tissue and erupted organs.

Colin moved them near the torture table, where sharp rusting tools were stained by black tar. Pieces of rotting flesh surrounded an intact ear. Matthews swallowed the bit of hurl he was about to release on Rat's back.

"Let's just kill them now," they heard Colin say.

But Ethan reminded him he could do nothing without the Abundant One's approval. "We need to follow the rules. First, the sinner."

"What's the difference!" Colin grunted. He pushed Matthews and Rat against the brick wall, far from the crowd that gathered to see them.

"The Abundant One made no plans to execute the men. What will he say when he sees we dragged these two because you wanted to have fun? Watch them while I explain your mess."

Colin clapped and rang the bell hanging in the platform's corner. Their audience now reached three hundred. The gloomy crowd burrowed out of their cement homes in rags that complemented the desert.

"Poor tainted souls," whispered Rat. "Forgive them, Lord. Forgive them."

"Are you serious?" Matthews said in disbelief. "Did you forget the burned corpses by their church? Look what they did to our friends! These freaks couldn't protect Michael, and he was one of their own! I'm sure no one made any complaints when Oliver got executed. Maybe they enjoy this kind of stuff!"

When Ethan called Colin to the black chapel, it made him grumble. "You boys be obedient and stay put. Make one move, and our people will split you apart." Colin paused. "Now that I think about it. I don't mind if you disobey."

They built the black church to give an open view of the burning stake and gallows. Matthews guessed it was where the Abundant One watched the executions. He traced the trail they followed from the gallows and glanced at the pathetic entrance of their underground jail.

There was no maximum security.

The entry was an old shack.

The crowd of strangers whispered until their calm demeanor morphed into unpleasant glances.

"I know I smell bad, but have you seen Rat?" Matthews joked. A heavyset man in a tunic unfit for his paunch snarled at them. The look of Trent's face made his smile turn into disgust. "That fucking bastard."

"Don't make them angry," warned Rat, hoping to keep the peace, but a rock flung at him. The dirt clod broke when it struck his face.

"You thought you could take our souls, didn't you, Calvin?" hollered Trent at Rat as he picked up another rock. "You devil worshiper!"

"Devil worshiper!" followed a gray-haired woman who Matthews thought was too old to be breastfeeding a newborn.

Rat bowed his head in prayer and whispered his apology to the community he was once a part of. Trent resumed his hostile words and coughed up more phlegm. It was the same groan he noticed back in the diner. The villagers carried their noses too high to look down at them. The white in their eyes had a tint of yellow. It had to be jaundice. Many coughed, and spat like the virus inside wanted out.

"I'm sorry!" Rat sank his head to his knees and wiped his tears with them. He gripped his heart with his shackled wrists at stared at the community he once loved. "May the God of Abraham expose your false preacher and have mercy on you!"

The crowd turned into an uproar, volunteers joined Trent and swung waves of dirt clods. Matthews blocked them by holding his fists to his face. He should have expected the crowd would get this rowdy. Some seniors did not take part. They were silent with a neutral look in their eyes. But the commotion brought Colin and Ethan out of their chapel to announce their leader's presence. Upon Colin's return, he greeted them with his twisted smile.

"The Abundant One has agreed to execute you both after the ceremony is complete," he said. "After all these years, we will execute this crazy pastor."

"So, it seems," said Ethan, uninterested. His focus was on the ritual.

The community reverted to silence when the Abundant One appeared from the chapel. He climbed up the bloody steps, unbothered by the burgundy stains on his white robe. He didn't acknowledge the prisoners. Instead, he raised his hand to gather his follower's attention.

"The time we have long waited has arrived," the Abundant One called out. "I have predicted it, my faithful followers. Asylum is a lie. The evil soul that inhabits our prisoner will give us the power to reclaim this land. When we claim it, we no longer have to go back. We can live here in peace, but first, we will complete our ultimate cleanse!"

"Bring out the vermin!" cried Ethan.

The crowd cheered and hugged one another. Their faces beamed by the promise of their leader. A promise Rat said was false. But before he could warn his people, he was locked underground by the Abundant One. Keeping him alive showed the community of his mercy. In return, he received their loyalty.

The church doors opened. The crowd gathered, lined to the black church and made a path to the gallows. Rat couldn't see because of how far back he sat, so it made him impatient. He wormed closer until Matthews pulled the chain and flung him back. He warned him if he made Colin mad, he would regret it, but Rat lured away from his grip in protest.

"I thought you wanted to see Shadow."

"I do, I do!"

"Then, don't do anything that will stop us from seeing him."

A cocktail of emotions filled the crowd. Some cried in fear, others ventilated their curses at Shadow. The thrill of their reaction brought the prisoners to their knees. They leaned for a closer look.

"He is real," Matthews whispered under his lips.

Rat reached for his shoulder and gripped them. "I told you, I told you!"

The excitement felt like his first culture trip to Panama. The new experience to watch the sunrise from the Pacific and set in the Atlantic ocean. Blinking was out of the question! Matthews hoped Shadow would attack the guards to give them a chance to escape. The crowd that blocked their view made them extend their necks and tilt our chin towards the air. They were in such a daze to meet Shadow, they couldn't notice the blow Ethan put to their backs. He thrust them to the wall and threatened to shoot the second they moved from their spot.

"Shadow is on his way to the gallows," Matthews assured. "He will come to us."

The Abundant One raised his hand, silencing the crowd. What remained were the iron shackles that hauled an iron ball. Two stone-faced guards came up to the gallows and instructed Shadow to the platform.

"This is it," whispered Rat.

Matthews didn't look at Shadow but looked at Rat instead. This was his moment. He wanted to see his trembles and excitement turn into joy. Rat's smile cracked and bled from not licking his dried lips. But as Shadow's steps reached the platform, Rat grew pale, his eyebrows almost descended to his cheek. His reaction frightened him, so he looked at Shadow. It made him shake his head, hoping it was a mirage from the heat.

"Let's begin!" shouted Colin. "I sentence the vermin to death for the unmerciful murder of our brave pioneers who re-captured this monster, James, Gregory, and Bates. It has become our sole responsibility to once and for all wash this evil out of Earth."

Matthews thought it was a tactic or a cruel joke to humiliate them. But the villagers believe it with their furious eyes. They cheered and hollered at Shadow.

"The vermin shall be hanged," announced the Abundant One. "We will then burn the body and feed our sacred fire!"

Matthews couldn't blink, so he rubbed his eyes.

It couldn't be a lie.

How could Shadow be a little girl?

# Chapter 26

Switched

The girl was barefooted, with a tattered brown sack enveloping her thin body. Her black hair reached down to her ankles. Ethan and Colin pulled her to make sure she stood above the trap door. Her head wouldn't rise. It bowed, committed to the floor. She trembled from the violent cries and insults directed at her.

"That can't be him," Rat whimpered. The Shadow he admired was no more.

His words made Colin turn to see their disappointment. "Now I see why the crazy pastor acted strange. You wanted to see your savior!" he laughed. "Well, here she is." He clutched the girl's tiny face and moved her around so she could face them. Colin wrapped her hair and pulled it. "Take a good look!"

The girl didn't know what the guard was trying to prove, so she shut her eyes when the light exposed her. Her tears showed the trail she left on her dirty cheeks. The sight was pathetic. She was without a doubt not the Shadow Rat imagined, nor the Shadow Matthews thought would prove him wrong.

"Silence." Ethan grabbed the girl's shoulder to keep her from fidgeting and turned her back to face the crowd. "The minister might take notice."

The doors in the black chapel opened once more. A group of men and women in black robes left the dark halls and sang a melancholy choral. The language was unrecognizable, but it carried an ominous tone. Ethan instructed the girl to keep still and stop sulking while Colin placed the noose past her ears and wrapped her neck. When he secured it, Colin raised his hand, and the choral stopped.

"We must have disappointed you two." He couldn't help the amusement. "You're both fools to think this little demon could overthrow us. With the Abundant One as our leader, we are invincible. As for this little hero of yours. She is a goner, just like the rest of you."

"You are all liars!" Rat's voice squealed at the end. "That is not him! That is not Shadow!"

The unwanted attention of the entire community was on them. Matthews wanted to jolt to his feet and make a run for it, but Rat kept him grounded while he sobbed from his disenchantment. Matthews understood his frustration. Rat turned out to be correct. Shadow was real, but it was not how anyone imagined him.

"You are not him!" Rat raised his greasy finger at the girl whose own fear made her back curve. Her black hair veiled her face, but she looked at them. "You can't be Shadow. You are nothing! You're not worth being admired, you —"

Hot fluids splattered unto Matthew's face before the blaring sound made him jump. Rat fell with a bullet hole through his forehead. Matthews held his breath from the discharge echoing across the desert. The girl jerked her attention away, choosing to face the offensive desert dwellers than the gap in Rat's skull.

Colin chuckled and placed his gun back in his holster. He could have taken Matthews down, but he knew he was an obedient coward. Killing him so soon would take away his fun. He didn't fall short on being recognized as the son of the devil. The Abundant One didn't lift a finger to corrupt his mind.

Half of Rat's face laid in his own blood. His disheveled hair could not conceal his eyes that rolled in opposite directions. The Abundant One resumed his grand speech as if nothing happened. He told a tall tale of dragons that ruled over them for too long and the girl's demonic power that could free them. Matthews wiped Rat's blood off his face with his shoulder. He shivered in disgust, tasting the iron on his bottom lip. The Abundant One carried on, calling the girl names no one should tell a child. They were wicked to condemn her, she was no older than six or seven years old. But the sentence to hang and burn her was extreme.

Is she so deserving of it?

Matthews called out to her in a low whisper, but she didn't budge. He made several attempts until she turned towards him. He could barely see her face. Her black was like curtains, and it resembled a popular horror movie. He forced a smile. The dirt that was whistling by moved the midnight hair out of her face. The water lines he saw earlier now streamed a new glossy path.

"Don't be afraid." He displayed his teeth to effort another smile. "You're going to be okay."

The girl's mouth unglued from her dried lips. Wide with belief, she accepted his words with a slight nod. He felt terrible for his dishonesty. But he wanted to make her feel better. Even if there was no way out. Her attention returned to the floor after his reassurance. Now she's glanced at her surroundings, the crowd, the black church, and the blue skies. She then turned back to Matthews.

"I'll get you out of here."

Matthews pulled back and hit his head against the wall.

"Silence!" Colin smacked her across the face. "Matthews, one more peep, and you will end up just like him."

"It is time." The Abundant One gave Colin and Ethan the signal. "Let us rid the demon from this foul puppet!" Ethan stepped aside while Colin gripped the lever with both hands, so the trap door wouldn't fail. "Rejoice!" The leader's young face wrinkled with excitement. "We are about to witness true glory!"

Colin's smile lingered as he waited for the Abundant One's signal. Matthews wanted to look away, but it happened with little warning. The lever was pulled. He yelled when the trap door opened. She fell with her hair being the last to sink.

The rope tightened from her weight, now carried by the strength of her neck. It should have snapped, but they heard two feet slapping against one another. The girl heaved and gasped for air. The rope creaked, swaying side to side from her resist. When the struggle against gravity lessened, the tapping of feet reduced to nothing.

Matthews laid his head on the floor. New Year's was Rat's triumph over him. Now he was dead, and Shadow, their symbol of hope, was an illusion.

"Colin," he whispered. "Shoot me now."

"With pleasure," said Colin, taking the gun from his holster.

Matthews shut his eyes and waited for the bullet to take him. But a shrieking woman hindered him from pulling the trigger. He looked through the trap door and fired several rounds below.

"For God's sake, she is dead!" Matthews cried. The girl's body probably jerked, startling Colin.

But a white figure leaped through the trapdoor. She plunged towards Colin the moment he raised his weapon. The girl vaulted to his chest and pierced one hand through his neck and slammed his body against the platform. Colin gurgled and wailed his hands until he stopped moving. Her skin was albino-like, her white hair had no hint of grey.

Ethan summoned the guards to the platform, surrounding her, and gave the order to fire. The girl spun back into the crowd and pushed through the remaining villagers. They burst into an uproar when a shower of bullets penetrated the confused group. Under their leader's orders, they trained the guards not care who got caught in the line of fire, she was their priority.

But the white-haired girl sprinted through the crowd, blending among the panicked community. Her fast movements left a blurry illusion to the gunmen. Those who tried to restrain her among the mob got a hole to their neck. Her slender fingers punctured through every hand that touched her. The panicked footwork of the scattering villagers left a cloud of dust and hid the girl for a brief moment.

"What the hell was that?" cried Matthews.

"What do you think?" Ethan's eyes fixated at the girl. "A spawn of pure evil."

"There!" one guardsman shouted.

She stood on the highest roof of the black chapel. She stared down at everyone with sheer confidence and a raised chin. The armed men fired. But she taunted their aim by leaning to the side of the wall. Gravity should have taken her down, but her fingers dug through the brick wall.

Her pale figure abandoned the chapel and leaped for cover over the roofs of the residents. The bullets came, but not a single round reached her fast reflexes. Her improbable movements locked Matthews with bewilderment. No one could leap from one roof to the next like they were steppingstones. In the calamity, Ethan had yet to fire a single round, but he observed her every move. When her direction changed to the gallows. Ethan used her approach as the right opportunity to aim.

His hands were steady.

His focus was unbreakable.

He fired one shot and pushed the girl back into the crowd. She recovered, slowly collecting herself. The bullet grazed her cheek, but it led her ruby-colored eyes to sparkle.

Trent rallied with the guards below and fired his rounds. He was either too slow or too anxious to react when the girl grabbed his wrist. He cried as she swung him around like a rag doll. Trent's body whacked and beat those who didn't get out of the way. She turned and turned like she was performing a hammer throw for the Olympics, releasing him to Ethan and his men.

The guards couldn't recover from seeing a tiny child hurl a colossal man. In their hesitation, the white-haired girl continued to throat-stab those who tried to fire their rain of bullets. Matthews didn't know why she aimed for the neck, but he found her method gruesome.

Among his unstable guardsmen, Ethan kept his composure. He aimed for a second time and fired. The bullet pierced the girl's arm and flung her to the ground once more. She was strong, but her weight couldn't handle the impact of a .45 caliber round. The wound calmed her thirst for throat-piercing. Now her dubious red eyes locked to Matthews. She ignored Ethan's third aim and dashed toward him. Matthews crawled until Rat's body trapped him.

"Stay back!" he cried as she approached.

She grabbed him by the neck and pulled him against the wall. "This one?" she asked herself. "This one?"

"Demon!" howled the Abundant One. His dispersed community that scattered like ants didn't bother him. The remaining guards left the underground jail and joined him. They raised their weapons but held their fire from the Abundant One's order. "I searched for quite a while. Four years, to be exact."

The white-haired girl released her grip on Matthews, leaving him gasping for air. The bullet wound in her arm bled and trailed her arm until it dripped on the floor. It wasn't green or purple like the monster Matthews imagined her to be. When she stepped towards the adults, they reacted and fired at her feet so she could stay put.

"I did not imagine it would take severe trials before I knew how to release you." The Abundant One spoke to her less like an adversary and more like an acquaintance. "Your strength and those swirling red eyes tell me you're not human, not like the other girl." He smiled at her with a sincere look in his eye. Matthews was just as confused as the guards who surrounded their leader. But their leader continued. "I do not know how you found this planet, but let me assure you I sensed your power from Asylum."

Ethan looked at him with puzzlement and lowered his weapon. "What are you talking about, your holiness?" He was ever more confused when his leader ignored him.

"The others take so long to discover our presence, but it is only a matter of time before they send a Speaker." He turned around for the girl to see. "That is why I took the disguise of a humble minister."

"Abundant One, why are you talking to this monster!" Ethan was becoming furious. "Your men and people have died!"

Having grown tired of the loudmouth, the minister raised his left hand and kept it in the air. His eyes never left the girl. He looked at her like a won prize he's been eager to get from a claw machine. Ethan looked up, mesmerized by the arm raising against him. It stretched and grew wide. The Abundant One's pale skin turned pink until boils began to sprout out of the pores. The arm swelled and slammed Ethan against the floor. The guards and community who witnessed it screamed and darted for the borders. Those that stayed open-fired at their adored leader, who showed his true color and intentions. It was everything Rat warned them about and was imprisoned for trying. Their leader was a monster.

Matthews watched the crowd pressured the guards to hurry and cut the barbed wire. He wanted to join them until he discovered that they meant no one to leave. The potholes swallowed the villagers that broke through the border. Those who slipped by got their limbs blown by a round of explosions. The desperate ones hoped for the best until a blast took them.

The ignition from the border activated the explosives from within every home. Those who made it out flopped against the floor in flames. Homes crumbled, the barns that kept their horses collapsed, and the black chapel itself came tumbling down. All of it was a shock to everyone but the Abundant One. Within seconds, his community turned into the end of days, as he predicted. The sight made him cackle with a distorted pitch. The guards who did not abandon their post turned against their leader. Their bullets pierced his skin, but it brought no result.

"You humans and your tools won't do any good!" The Abundant One used his repulsive flat arm and squashed the guards like he did to Ethan.

His superhuman strength stirred something in him that forced him to cough blood. His body pulsated. His other arm grew in the same bulging manner while his legs fatten into deformed rolls of red skin. Grease boiled underneath and oozed to the platform. His stomach ripped through the seams of his robe until the fabric disintegrated from his blazing body. His curling pink skin spat hot fumes. Larvae started to slip in and out of his back. The face haunted Matthews the most. It was still flawless, young, and unblemished.

"Listen to me," hissed the Abundant One to the girl. "This defiled planet doesn't need to belong to humans. We can cleanse it, you and I. Come, let me free you of that hollowed flesh."

The white-haired girl folded her arms. "You're near the end of your lifespan, aren't you?" Her voice was soft and high pitched. "The one inside me saw you consume the men who live underground. You eat them so you can keep your human appearance."

Is she talking about us? How could Matthews think they were not? Are we here to satisfy this monster's hunger? Is that what happened to Oliver?

"I will grant you praise for noticing my necessities," admitted the monster. "You possess astounding strength and have the foresight to surmise my health."

"I wouldn't say foresight," the girl commented.

"Don't be a fool. You hid quite well inside that puppet of yours."

"Now it's my turn to ask you a question," she said. "Have you met a Lenur like me?"

"There are more of you?"

"Oh, you have not," the girl sounded relieved. "Then, there's no point in talking."

Before the Minister got the chance to respond, the white-haired girl leaped into the hole in the trap door. The Abundant One turned, but he was slow. If he looked like a snail, he would move like one. It gave the girl time to re-appear behind him. When she slipped her tiny hands through his neck, he moaned and swung his arm. She took the blow and dropped off the gallows. Matthews watched as he twisted and turned. His skin curled over one another like salt, like the slug he was. His shriek ended when the monster's twisted eyes noticed him.

"I must," he choked. "I must preserve my life!" His legs wobbled and rolled to him.

Matthews moved into action. He huffed as he pulled Rat's body down the stairs. Sensing his urgency, two larvae shot from the Abundant One's back. They crawled and sped past him. One of the spaghetti-like worms wrapped around his legs and burned through his jeans. The other grabbed his arm and tightened it like it measured his blood pressure. He howled and ripped the wiggling slime with his hand, burning himself in the process. Rat's body was almost at the stairs.

"Come on!" Matthews yelled at his cellmate's frozen stare. "We can get out!"

"Come hither," hissed the Abundant One. "You exist, so I may continue to live." One arm stretched further than a human should and slithered like a snake. But there was a limitation. He couldn't move any further, so his fingers expanded like they were pizza dough.

Matthews raised his arms to shield his face, knowing very well it wouldn't protect him. But a gunshot was fired and rang through his eardrums. The serpent-like arm that reached for him split before it got him.

The round came from Ethan.

His elbows shifted, and his gun aimed for Matthews, all while one of his eyeballs drooped from the impact of the Abundant One's arms. When he fired, the bullet broke through the chain that locked him to Rat.

"Run," Ethan gasped before his eyes went vacant.

The Abundant One's working arm reached for Rat's corpse and slid him to his mouth. But his teeth couldn't sink. Something kept him from touching his cadaver.

"You degenerate," he said to his lifeless body. "Even in death, your God protects you."

The Abundant One looked at Matthews, his fresh meat. His massive legs rolled over each other in desperation. It Matthews down the stairs, but the smudge of the blood beneath him brought him to slip, but the bodies on the ground caught his fall.

The Abundant One was not far behind. He fell off the platform, expanding his jaw. The bones cracked open as it disconnected from the maxilla. Matthews gripped the dead and use them to pull himself back.

The wind had been agitating the fires that remained burning from the blast. They now looked like restless waves. Among the flames was the white-haired girl. She stood motionless among the fire, almost lost in thought until she fell to her knees. She hugged her shoulders, grunting and wailing as the wind surrounded her with the stirring flames. With no consideration of the fire, she clenched her teeth and cried. The back of her ragged dress ripped and soaked the rough burlap with red streaks of blood.

The Abundant One halted. His eyes shifted to focus on them both, contemplating on who to swallow first. He left Matthews and galloped towards his desired prize, the white-haired girl in rags. She kept one eye open, watching him approach her but without fear. What made her quiver was the pain piercing out of her back. Two white wings emerged. She wailed as they extended and ripped out of her skin. They wiggled out like fingers until the wings relaxed, expanded, and brushed the flames aside.

The Abundant One made haste, bolting towards her, but he missed. The white-haired girl's wings extended, swerving his launching mouth. They carried her in the air until she descended in front of Matthews. He pulled away, but she held on to the chain Ethan broke to keep him close. Her wings flapped and brought a gust of wind.

She then looked at the sky.

"H-hold up —" Matthews stammered.

The Abundant One roared. His skin stretched until his body split, revealing dozens of boiling larvae. They gushed out and raced towards them. One was faster from the rest and leaped. When it wrapped around Matthews's throat, he tried to break pull it off, but the acid burned his skin, and his hands couldn't pull away. His eyesight grew dark, all while the rest of the larvae charged towards him. They called him, cried for him to stay, and promised they would change.

They begged and begged until the darkness took him.

# Chapter 27

Black Wings

An innocent flash from the sky and grumble of clouds brought Matthews to wake. His eyes couldn't open because dust had stuck to him when he lost consciousness. After several rubs, he found a vast blue ocean below. The air was salty, and the temperature was becoming startling cold. The sun had set, but it left an apricot-colored hue over the shifting waters. I must be a wandering ghost flying to the underworld. He thought. The Abundant One got his way. He ate me — he fucking ate me! But the pulse in his wrists told him otherwise. The sharp edges of the shackles were gnawing at his skin.

The white-haired girl was carrying the chain that kept him in the air. Her enormous wings carried them in the sky without trouble. They were ordinary. There was a primary and secondary wing, and the composition did not differ from a bird. With steady timing, each wing beat down and glided them over the waters. If the aviation pioneers could see her fly, there wouldn't be any more dreams. Since she twirled Trent like a body pillow, Matthew's weight was not a problem for her. But his neck still burned. It was tender from the larvae that got him. When the girl noticed he was no longer unconscious, she looked away without a word.

Matthews went straight to the point. "Where are we going?"

The girl smirked and shook her head. "I don't know."

There were five oceans in the world, and they were occupying one. The land of water was, without a doubt, massive. They were heading west, towards the fading sun. Mathew breathed in the crisp air. It wasn't unbearable, so he threw the Arctic Ocean off the list. Since leaving Arizona, he guessed the white-haired girl flew without a break. If she were to go towards the opposite direction of the sun, it would lead them to the Atlantic Ocean. Among the sizeable aquatic floor, there were little dots of coral islands.

"We are in the world's largest oceanic division," Matthews said. "The Pacific Ocean." The wind now pushed him around like a wind chime. With the sky darkening, the thick clouds trapped more moisture in the air. "Why didn't you leave me near a city?" he asked, feeling suspicious of her motives. "You've been flying west the entire time."

"I was going to leave you," the girl shook her head. "But I won't risk another captivity. If I want to survive, I must stay away from you humans."

She was wrong to think everyone was another Abundant One waiting to re-capture her. So Matthews explained the monstrosity in the Mohave Desert was not how they live.

"You believe I'm hiding because I'm scared of people like you? It's a Lenur spy I am hiding from. He lives among you, and if you humans discover what I am, the Lenur will find me."

But her urgency to stay off the radar could not last long. Heading west from Arizona meant she flew over California. That state alone was a large population. Matthews remembered the reforms many agricultural industries went through a shit show. Luckily for them, the founder of the Graham Farm Association made obsessive efforts to implement fairer contracts for its farmers.

"This world." The girl said it like she had never seen it. "It's big."

"With many problems of its own." Matthews hated the Talk of 2025. Limited land space and pollution severely affected the birds that rely on migration. If the evolution theory was concrete, where did humanity fall in it? Many saw survival of the fittest as a natural order. But how was it possible if one species did more damage than good?

That didn't sound natural to him, but he had a name for it, self-destruction.

"You got a name?" The temperature cooled the burn marks as the sun left them.

"Serenata."

The name made Matthews think of his neighbor Juan. It was the night he woke up to live music blaring at the late hour of the night. He left his home barefooted and unprepared to meet a band of mariachis with the lead singer singing in front of the bedroom window of Juan's daughter. Matthews was cranky in pajamas and demanded an explanation. Instead of a neighborly apology, he was handed a shot of tequila. The late occasion was meant to happen before the crack at dawn. Serenata meant serenade, it was a cantata used for showing one's devotion to their love, birthdays, or express their apologies. And since it was Juan's daughter's fifteenth birthday, he was proud to have the honors.

When it rained, Matthews raised his dry lips towards the sky and drank what got inside his mouth. Though Serenata was a quiet one, she had a cruel way to take down her attackers. The similarity in age brought him to think of the black-haired girl. He also concluded they were the duo who shared the infamous name they called Shadow.

"That girl who was with you," Matthews began. "I'm sorry she died." He couldn't shake the terrified look on the girl's face, nor her gripping fist before Colin pulled the lever.

"Die?" repeated Serenata. "She did not die." The rain slid down her oiled feathers and dropped into the vast body of water.

"She's alive." Serenata's chuckle caused the chain to shake. "Otherwise, I wouldn't be here."

"I saw her hang." Matthews could have predicted the danger they were about to ahead, but Serenata's comment distracted him.

"And then, you saw me," she replied.

The clouds interjected a grumble, and the wind picked up to swing him with brute force. It made him grip the chain. He wouldn't dare test the ocean waters. A fall from this height was a ticket to instant death. Once it settled, he asked what worried him the most, the Abundant One.

"He died," Serenata said it like it was old news. "He would need fresh live meat to survive."

It worried him because now there was no one to provide food or water for the men below. Within a few days, they would die of dehydration. He wanted to go back and save him, but for now, his priority was to survive the flying tour around the world. Serenata must have flown for hours, but there was no crease or strain on her eyebrows. Matthews thanked her for not leaving him behind. He also apologized for the weight, but the girl didn't bother to look at him.

"I want to tell you how grateful I am," he shouted, thinking she didn't hear him.

"It wasn't my idea," she groaned. "But your words of gratitude are annoying me. If you insist on talking. I can just let you go."

Matthews kept silent to please her. Meanwhile, the ecstatic electrons danced around them. The clouds discharged several beams of light as a warning, but Serenata flew them forward. Matthews felt his shoulders shivered from the crawling goosebumps on his spine, sensing the risky situation. He reported the news like a weatherman and warned her of their current elevation.

"Compact energy is hiding among the thick clouds. We should leave them alone." The rain poured hard now, and it was becoming too dark to see. "We should find shelter on the small islands below!" Serenata scoffed and told him not to intervene with her flight. Her confidence was high, but it was unrealistic. "You're not considering our situation," he interjected. "There's a high chance we can get struck by lightning. Can you at least lower your altitude?"

"You're spewing lies." Trust was not something she practiced or told to have.

"Don't you hear the thunder above us? What do you think will happen next? If you don't lower your height, we will fry before we hit the waters. Land and wait out the storm!"

"You're not making any sense," she sneered. "I don't sense any danger!"

"Don't you know what a bolt of lightning is?"

"No!" she yelled with a sudden pause. "Don't look at me like that! I don't always see with my own eyes. I've waited this long to be free, so nothing you say will convince me to stop!" Her words were of cryptic meaning, but it was clear she didn't understand they could become fried meat for the sharks below.

The rays of lightning shot among the clouds like they were veins pumping for blood. Matthews almost lost his bowel movements from the next earsplitting sound of trampled clouds, wrestling among the cosmic sky.

"You're going to kill us!" he cried. "If we're struck, we're going to our graves!" He thought he heard her say shut up, but a bang of combusted energy clogged his ears.

Another flash struck the clouds, but this time, Serenata's face was in a state of confusion. The chain attached to his wrists swung from her tremble. She looked below in search of land, realizing their impending situation. But it was already too dark.

"Lower your height!" Matthews cried when he felt Serenata climbing. "What are you trying to do?"

"What do you think?" she barked back. "I'm going to fly over the nasty clouds!"

Matthew no longer had any words to convince her otherwise. Instead, he repeatedly shook his head. They were about to enter unwelcomed territory, mother nature's lightning party. Having spent three months in an underground prison waiting for his end. Serenata's ability to fly momentarily saved him, but it would not save him.

This was another way to go.

There was no way he could survive this one.

Serenata's wings whistle against the chilly rain. Any moment, mother nature would discover the foreigners invading her celestial territory and punish them with her electrical energy. Like Benjamin Franklin's experiment, they were nothing more than a kite. But perhaps not to Matthews. No, Serenata was the kite, and he was the respectable Franklin!

The risk was high, but it was a chance. His fate with the ocean was better than the infinite energy above. As a grumble voyaged across the clouds, it released a beam of light. Lightning stroke and missed them by a hairline. Since the next one wouldn't be so understanding, he squeezed the chain and climbed inch by inch. A familiar grumble was returning with a vengeance.

It was time.

Without hesitation, Matthews curled his spine and hauled the chain down with every might in his thin arms. His quick yank released him from Serenata's hold. The chain twisted and clanked. She looked below, seeing it was too late to make a fuss. A ray of light dispersed like the roots of a tree and struck Serenata. What remained was an echo of her last cry.

With his back facing the water, Matthews watched the electrical activity pulse among the clouds. He was now a raindrop destined to meet the ocean floor like the rest. Soon he would break every bone in his body. But having avoided death for a few seconds more, he felt content. He felt no regret that he didn't get struck by lightning.

Though the fall was coming fast, his thoughts came slow. He relished his thoughts until a shadow drew near him. He assumed what was joining him was Serenata's crisp body. He didn't want to see a charred little girl. Actually, it surprised him she didn't turn into dust.

As the corpse drew in, he realized his mistake.

The flashes from the sky gave him clarity. It was the girl from the gallows. Her smile showed that she recognized him. She drew close, revealing a wild color in her eyes, a mixture of indigo and lavender. Like Serenata's ruby-colored eyes, they were not typical to the human eye. She spread out her arms and reached for Matthews, who extended his own.

Their fingers entangled and pulled each other close. As they fell to their deaths, her ongoing smile lightened his pounding heart. Her lips moved, but he could not listen among the storm. When her nails dug into his arms, she wailed in pain as the space between her shoulder blades grew two bumps. A sharp bone pierced her skin and spewed out. It extended and gave room to a cluster of bones to expand. They sank and rose until two black wings tore out of her back with brute force. They extended, blocking the rain from his face. Unlike Serenata's bright and angelic wings, the illuminations of the storm couldn't wipe the dark void on her feathers.

Matthews looked below at what he thought would be their graves. But there was a large island magnifying below. Specks of artificial light blinked like fireflies in the night. But the black wings wobbled against the wind, unable to slow their descent. The girl struggled as she could not expand them.

"Fly!" he begged.

"I can't."

The wings that sprouted out of the girl were painful. Her shoulders still trembled from the way they tore out. Matthews grabbed her left wing. The warm and smooth sensation of her feathers gave him goosebumps, so he pulled back. He held it once more, extended it outward, and locked the wing into place. But the current of the wind was turning against them, forcing them to a barrel roll.

The right wing was still bent to her back. The rollercoaster ride prompted the girl to wrap her arms around his neck. As the world spun, their closeness helped him reach for the right wing. He leaned over and forced the tendons outward. The barrel roll stopped, but he was no bird.

The speed of descent was too fast.

"Can you lower your wings?" he asked like he was an expert, but it was a mere guess. "They're extending too high. We can't glide like this!"

The girl shook her head and said she didn't know how to control them. He told her to pretend the wings were an extra pair of arms. All she needed to do was move them on command. But the girl sank her face into his chest instead. It petrified her to try.

"What's your name?" he asked, feeling the change of temperature as they sank.

The girl looked up at him while her overlong hair slapped his face. Nobody had ever asked for her name, but she was taught to respond if they did.

"Merla."

"Merla," Matthews begged, wondering how much longer they had left. "I don't want to die."

His pathetic request convinced her. Merla grunted and tightened her shoulders, but it was no success. And Matthews was right about their speed. The trees below were growing larger by the second. They were less than a minute away from hitting the ground. Because his end was coming, he looked up at the sky. He thought of Rat and his many hymns, his cellmates, and Oliver. Though he was no churchgoer, he always called on God when he had no hope.

"Spare me," he said out loud. "If I survive this, I will free the imprisoned men."

He pressed his chin against Merla's black hair and closed his eyes. He remembered the Abundant One wanted Serenata. Then there was a world, one Michael and Rat said he wouldn't believe existed. The tightening grip from the girl brought him back to the present. As they were about to hit the trees, Matthews's mouth flapped with endless questions.

"Who named you?" he uttered. "Who carried you?" he mumbled. "Who gave birth to you?"

He reached for her black wings, pulled, and steadied them one last time.

The main story will continue in

Volume 2

The Conflict

Side stories

Lola

The Hunted Prince

Click here to check the Timeline for Black Wings.

# Acknowledgments

My heartfelt thanks to Albert. We often joke that you are my barista, constantly supporting me with your cups of coffee. But let's be real, you are also tech support, beefing up my PC with upgrades. I will try to keep all my files on my external drive...but I can't make promises that I always will. Regardless, I am lucky to have you. Nothing will ever compare to the patience you have for me. Like when I stomp around telling you about my plans for Black Wings, asking for your feedback, and sometimes asking you if I should give up. You are, without a doubt, the rock that keeps me here.

A massive thank you to author Matt Gianni, for your valuable time and suggestions. This gentleman's feedback chapter by chapter was not put in vain. It really gave me the kick I needed to become a better writer. I encourage readers who love historical fiction and contemporary thrillers to check out his book at his website right here.

# About the Author

Miriam Yvette is a gamer, writer, and artist. She fell in love with writing in sixth grade, where her first stories were compilations of romance and fantasy. Her fondness of crows began at the age of thirteen. She loves birdwatching, strong coffee, and visiting National Parks.

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#

Abundant One: During his search for Serenata. The Abundant One led a community of faith-believers to kidnap and execute modern-day men. His disapproval of modern technology remains a blur. But it was clear that he consumed the men he imprisoned to sustain his life on Earth. With his form unveiling in The Birth, he hints he escaped from a world he calls Asylum.

Pink blubber with boils on the surface of the skin created his form. When a boil pops, a larva coils out of his body to trap its prey. These worms move like a snake and could reach scorching temperatures.

Braightnos: During a battle with the enemy, Braightnos became a prisoner of war. He watched in vain as the enemy executed his companions. To survive, he entered the corpse of one of the guards and returned to the Empire. Those who tried to replicate Braightnos without authority do not go unpunished.

Caspedian Cloth: A durable black cloth embedded with tiny shards of rare forms of catarelia. Elites traditionally wear the fabric as a sign of their renown and might. It is against the law to wear a caspedian cloth for luxury or fashion, as the wearer of the precious material could be mistaken for an Elite. That is why thieves who steal caspedian cloths do not outlive the fabric.

Catarelia: These living organic forms and are often mistaken for ordinary rocks. They grow in gloomy undercaves and are most bountiful in shaded regions. Moisture is essential for their growth.

Once outside, catarelias in their raw organic form typically float into the atmosphere. Once harvested, they could be broken down and sold as jewelry, weaponry, and armor. Catarelias are also an excellent source of energy. They also played a vital role during the Dark War.

Dark Lenur: A lenur wrapped in a dark matter who went to eliminate Avalon for the murder of one of the Emperor's wives. He calls himself Darcus.

Demptness: An unknown skill that imitated a natural fog. It abolished the atoms of any living organism it touches. Nobody knows who created the attack. But they knew it came from Tale'd, an enemy of the Empire.

Eibohn: For thousands of years, this entity roamed the mountains of Sei. Eibohn called Famira to live an exiled life. His calm but passive and bitter personality is all that is known.

Emperor Verus: Ruler of Erolt.

Emoti: A hybrid animated image inspired by the Emoji and GIF that people used to display their reactions.

Famira: The mother of Avalon's father. After communicating with an entity known as Eibohn, she made plans to leave the Empire for good. But Famira could not leave her son, who was too young to live on his own. To avoid suspicions of her abandonment, she registered her son to the Academy of Elites. Famira left the city when her son started his training.

Her ability to hide well and mimic the presence of small animals gave her the infamous title "Famira, the Ghost." She was the few lenur who could sneak up on another unnoticed and scare them.

Gilia: An affluent company created by a wealthy entrepreneur. Gilia alleviates the fears of successful members of society from living alone. It brought much criticism from the public who felt the social status of the residents discriminated against the less fortunate.

Graham Farm Association: An association localized in Washington State. It deals with fairness and rights among agricultural businesses.

Erolt: A monumental city surrounding the mountain palace of the Empire. People say the area was once a rural village enslaved by a harsh ruler. Now the Emperor made it prosperous. It is one of the lands found impenetrable by its neighbors.

Light-ware: The next generation hybrid of a desktop and laptop. It is a state-of-the-art computer system programmed to fit all communication needs. From creating virtual board meetings to playing the next best game, all the kids are raging for.

Lobepiece: A tiny device that attaches to the lobe of an ear and transmits calls.

Mohave Desert: The desert expands over four states, California, Nevada, Utah, and Arizona.

Mountains of Sei: These multiple mountain peaks reach high elevations that few wildlife creatures can live at the top. In low altitudes, the gigantic cousins of the conifer class surround the mountain. The Empire's palace is on the farthest region of the mountain, overseeing Erolt and the oceanic waters.

Osois: A snowy planet that takes ten years to orbit the sun. By the tenth year, the snow evaporates and settles as thick clouds in the sky. Many plants that are dormant during winter grow in the spring year.

Raiyne: One of the youngest Elites in Erolt.

The Sea of Vam: The region Famira hid Avalon during her rite of passage.

Tale'd: An adversary to the Empire in Erolt. They say this sovereign land prospered after the Dark War.

The Murder of Crows: A family of American Crows that consumed Avalon's flesh. They chased Lola through the Okanogan forest after sensing there was more to devour.

The Empire: Rumors say the empire and its capital Erolt originated after the Dark War.

The Company Five: A law firm owned by the Helen family. Rumors say The Company Five served the family for many generations. But nobody can trace how far back.

The Okanogan-Wenatchee Forest: One of the few national forests residing in the State of Washington. It underwent a destructive invasion from avid entrepreneurs. After careless managing and negligence, it suffered deforestation. The forest closed from its traditional tourist attraction and is open to a few.

The Shell: A solitary confinement room made from stainless steel. The white noise could drive the most composed individuals mad.

Televisual: This holography device projects sound, images, and live-feed. The technology of the Televisual developed from what was once called Television.

# More from Black Wings

There is no future without the past.

With her cabin left in shambles. Lola is unable to forget the night she lost her daughter. She spends the winter with Dr. Graham and his wife to find peace in the ordinary things of life.

Everyone in town knows it was Jeremy who found Lola in the forest. But ever since he brought her back to Leavenworth, he can't help but feel protective. Now his ex-fiancé has returned, and she hasn't called it quits to get him back.

As Lola interacts with the people of Leavenworth, her worst fear comes to light. She must return to the Okanogan-Wenatchee Forest or forfeit her soul.

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Black Wings

