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“Yes, I understand,” I responded coolly to Aldor, my mentor and the High Wizard of Zauberie. The lines and folds of his face told of a century of love and of loss, the weariness of battle long lost and won, and the wisdom he had to bear from it all. His face was coddled by an endless, white beard that stretched to his waist, well-kept and clasped along the way with beads of silver and marbles of swirling color. His shoulders were draped in various layers of soft pellucid turquoise and indigo blue fabrics and opaque stone-colored cloths. His aged hands reached out to clasp my shoulder and he nodded self-assuredly at me.
“This is important, Cellian—without her, we may very well fail this world.” His words were casual but laced with warning and solemnity. I nodded again with understanding. I had learned much from the aging wizard, selected by him to be the next High Wizard, and I felt I still had much to learn from him but time was of the utmost importance—Aldor did not need to elaborate. I felt down to the depths of my bones, sensing the honesty and the significant of this task. I heaved a sigh and pivoted, the clinking of the iron layers as they collided made quiet approaches difficult, but with a simple use of the magic that pulsated through my body, I could cloak myself easily when I needed.

My feet passed down the stone, marble steps of the great hall, echoing in the empty halls. It was late into the evening and many of the servants and soldiers had retreated to their bed chambers for sleep. It was in this peace that I was expected to begin the journey. I was instructed to head up to Aldor’s study in the eastern tower, and I did just that. I waved my hand casually to light the torches lining the cobbled hallways as I made my way to Aldor’s study. I was tense and briefly doubted my own capabilities but quickly chastised myself for the negative self-talk I was ruminating on. It had been almost an entire phase of Lilium, one of two moons that illuminated Zauberie. The pale moonlight softly wove its way through the oriel windows as I made my way up the spiral staircase of the stone turret.

Creating a portal was one of the most archaic and powerful spells and it hadn’t been successfully accomplished for two decades. I silently wished that Aldor could be present; his guidance and presence undoubtedly would ease my fears, but he was adamant that he not be present. He had said that it would need incredible concentration to complete. I could hear his words ringing in my head: ‘You are far more powerful than you realize, Callien, I trust you—if I did not, I would not give you such an important task’. My hand raised to brush away the silver-blonde dreads that pushed into my face.
I closed my eyes once I had positioned in the center of the small tower room. Aldor was the only one who knew of this plan—this journey—other than the Fae Queen herself. I hadn’t met her, but Aldor had told me of her great wisdom and beauty, as well as her sacrifice. I felt a pang of guilt for what she had to do—what she had to give up—to ensure the safety of the realm, and I had not yet been able to tell her, but I vowed some day I would bring her daughter to her and give her my respect.

My arms stretched wide, palms flat and fingers together as I took deep breaths to recant the steps. One wrong move and I would be hurling myself into oblivion. My heart began to race at the thought but I pushed it away with vigor. I felt the magic pulsating through my veins—igniting the marrow in my bones and the flesh over my body. I was buzzing inside, every inch of my skin tingling, and the room began to vibrate with an intensity that almost took me from my trance. I clasped my hands together then and channeled the energy billowing in the air and a burst of light cascaded from the touch. There was a loud cacophony of sound that eased into a low hum that gained in intensity, as well. I could my heart envelope my body as the space of the atmosphere and the pressure of the room ebbed. When I opened my eyes there was a gaping hole in the dimension, widening and spiraling, the blackness inside it showing scattered lights and bustling sounds I did not recognize. I hesitated for only a moment before I stepped forward and suddenly by body was weightless as it dropped in the sky. I attempted to use magic to ease my fall, but I learned quickly that although it was present, it did not seem to work quite the same in this strange world I had entered.

When I landed, peculiar humans bobbed to look at me, as if they’d never seen someone land from the sky. There eyes were wide and speculative and I coughed, realizing that I was very much out of place in this new world. My azure pools gazed upwards, analyzing the buildings that seemed to lap at the sky, and I gawked as those around me watched me. My gaze flitted around me as I took a few uncomfortable steps forward. Those around me were wearing clothes I’d never seen before—so tight-fitting and peculiar—but I realized they looked at me the same in my layers of armor and my indigo cape hanging loosely down my back.
I slowly approached a woman standing nearby who took a step backward at my advance. I reached my open palms into the air and stopped, “My lady, I mean you no harm. I am looking for an address, 12530 Parkplace Drive, New York.” I had no idea what I was listing off, but I had strict instructions to do so. Although I had no idea the gibberish I was speaking the woman seemed to comprehend me, although that puzzled look on her face did not leave her.
“Uh, yeah, it’s three blocks that way,” she pointed in the direction and I tilted my head in appreciation.
“Thank you very much, m’lady, you have been most kind.”

When I arrived at the wooden building I analyzed it, baffled by the architecture of this world—before approaching it. I had many questions but knew only that we did not have much time. When I arrived at the door, I spun the knob and pushed inside—at least the doors functioned similarly, although they were much more uniform and modernized. I felt very out of place and had no planned too far ahead so when I walked inside the home and found the burning red-haired Fae petrified at my entrance I studdered to find my words.
“Greetings, m’lady, I am the apprentice of the High Wizard and a Knight to the Wizard Kingdom of Zauberie, Cellian. I am here to accompany you home, but time is of the most importance, we must leave—[i now.”]

I never thought I would be doing this. I never thought I would be sitting alone in my childhood house. As tears rise from my heart to my eyes I gaze at the archaic red bricks scattered with mellow orange and yellow bursts of the main living room wall. The fireplace sitting solitary and cold--its warmth snuffed. The irony is not lost within me and I begin to shake to hold back the wave of sadness crashing into my soul. “I can’t do it, mom.” The phrase escapes me in a hushed tone I do not recognize as I lean back on the dark black oak pillars dividing the open kitchen and living space. “Why did you leave me, mom? Why didn’t you protect her, dad?” Am I going crazy? I know I am talking to myself here. I know they can no longer hear me. They have only been gone a few months and I still miss them so much. The emotional pain of losing my parents causes physical pain so intense I lose the ability to breath and my heart throbs and stabs me. I have sat here too long. I suddenly feel the urge to get up and run. This isn’t me, I don’t run from emotions.

As I slide up the pillar I was using to hold myself upright, I take one last gaze around this empty home. No. It is not a home, this empty house. I take a sharp breath as I notice in the corner of the room a book. The sunlight from the window gently outlines the cover with blue undertones from the glass it shines through. I take a few steps towards the book wondering how it could have been forgotten. I was sure I packed it before the estate sale when I was moving my room into storage? I bend down to pick up the contrasting worn yet smooth leather bound book and my long fiery waves spill around my slender shoulders. My small sunkissed hand slides across the black letters that make up the title, ‘The Fairy Princess and the Wizard.’ Memories rush through my mind. Tears begin to swell in my cerulean eyes as I focus on the last childhood memory I have of my mom reading this book to me.

“Mom! I am 11-years-old! That book is for babies!”

My adoptive mother with her dark curly hair surrounding her plump face smiles at me. How could she smile while I treat her so poorly? I always wondered how this woman did. My father walking in with his blonde hair and crisp business suit in brown tones furrows his brows at me, “Pippa! Your mother doesn’t deserve the attitude. Wash your face, it is time for bed.”

That was the last time my mother tried to read me this book, but even today at 23-years-old I could recite the entire thing. I close my eyes, clutch the battered book to my chest and head for the door. I cannot bear one more second in this miserable house where my hopes, dreams, and love died. They died that day my parents died just a few blocks down the road when icy roads and alcohol fueled teenagers mixed. My anger at the 16-year-old who unintentionally stole two beautiful people was speckled with sadness for the young man who would miss out on a bright future for adolescent mistakes. Despite what students in my cohort believed, I did have empathy.

I am shocked back to reality with the slow pounding of knuckle to door….