While Tassadu used life pebbles to remove the organic contents of his second stomach from the tatami mats, Aissaba set two language pebbles on the table and activated an anti-eavesdropping protocol. The pebbles began to talk, using Aissaba and Tassadu’s voices. Anyone listening would think they were discussing the party tonight.

Then, she popped a third language pebble into her mouth and tossed a fourth to Tassadu. “Can you hear me?” she said, lips closed, relying on the pebble to ungarble her tongue movements and to transmit her words to Tassadu’s ears. It was faster and more reliable than their half-baked language of facial expressions.

“Something’s wrong with me,” said Tassadu. “I’m seeing things… on Earth.”

(Blink: Cassandra helped Orion out of the humvee. The two of them tried to run for their rooms, but Mom’s voice stopped them, “Just a minute, you two. We need to talk.”)

“Let me guess,” said Aissaba. “You’re seeing what Cassandra is seeing. And they just got home.”

Tassadu’s eyes widened and he almost dropped the pebble out of his mouth. “You’re having them too?” He began to pace across the newly cleaned mats. “Wait, did you say Cassandra? For me, it’s Orion.”

Meanwhile, the other two stones gossiped about Aissaba’s last mind pebble trip and how two shots of whiskey had made it, like, sooo much better! Aissaba grimaced: wow, that is what I sound like.

***

Cassandra and Orion sat across from their parents at the kitchen table. Mom and Dad had their interrogator faces on – the ones they used when someone had done something wrong and they wanted you to know that they knew.

“We’re glad you’re okay,” said Dad. He always fired the first shots. He tipped back in his chair – the only one in the family allowed to do so. His hands drummed absently on his abdomen as he looked at the ceiling. “But we need you to tell us if anything unusual happened.”

“Uhh…” said Orion, about to commit a no-shit-Sherlock. Cassandra thwacked him on the shoulder before he could say, “Our bus crashed, obviously?” He’d gotten them grounded more times than she could count.

“Anything at all, Cassy?” coaxed Mom. Her makeup was on. Weird. Plus, she was wearing her protective amethyst pendant and her lucky dress. They’d arrived at the crash scene within minutes, which meant she’d been ready to leave the house beforehand. “Did you see anything? Or find anything?”

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Cassandra looked her dad in the eye (he never believed you unless you did that) and said, “There was a tree coming right at us. I could literally–”

Her mother cleared her throat.

“No, I mean it! Literally, I could count the woodpecker holes. And then it… like… fell over.”

“The bus hit it?” said her father.

“No,” said Cassandra. “I mean, yes. But I swear it started falling beforehand.”

They nodded, processing this. Then, Mom said, “I want you to think about the seconds between when the bus started to spin and when the tree began to fall. Did anything unusual happen within that span of time?”

Cassandra was about to say no, but…

(Blink: She had a rock in her mouth and was sitting at a Japanese table with a dragon man. Somehow, she knew his name was Tassadu.)

…there was something.

Her mother noticed her hesitation and said, “Wait here.” She disappeared into the living room. For several minutes, Cassandra could hear her rummaging through bookshelves and boxes in her office. When she came back, she was holding an ancient book.

The title, written in tarnished gold, was A Fortress of Pebbles.

Seeing this, Cassandra immediately recalled a dream she’d had – of a massive gate whose doors could sweep aside like curtains. Had she dreamt it last night?

“I want you both to close your eyes,” she said. “I’m going to read something, and I want you to tell me what you remember.”

When neither of them could take their eyes off the book, Dad said helpfully, “Close your eyes, or you’re grounded.”

***

(Blink: The title, written in tarnished gold, was A Fortress of Pebbles.)

Tassadu spit his pebble across the room. Aissaba almost swallowed hers. They were, however, spared the task of trying to discern the significance of the book because that was when the screams of pain from the next room began.

“Is that Styxx?” hissed Aissaba, spitting out the pebble.

“Sounds like it,” whispered Tassadu.

Styxx – former Head Scribe of Recruitment Tours – had always been a bit of an asshole. But from the sound of things, he was getting a punishment far beyond what he deserved.