“People can lose their lives in libraries.

They ought to be warned.”

- Saul Bellow

The severing of my connection to his memories was like a lightning strike. Heat and violence struck the space between us. My head flew backwards, almost as if I had been punched, my mind reeling. Jet staggered away from me, his hand over his face, hunched and groaning.

No…not Jet…it had never been Jet.

“Gary…no…Gar’Dian…”

He swore, clutching at his face like the phantom had after Christine has exposed his deformity.

“You…just had to know, didn’t you? You had to know!”

“En’Daren…your world…”

“Why couldn’t you have let the secret die with me?” He moaned.

“Everything…worse than dead…” I could see the landscape…like the surface of a meteor…like coral yet dark grey to black without a shred of life in it.

“My fault…it was all my fault…”

I could feel the remnant of his guilt coursing through my body. My own hand reached up to clutch at my face in the same manner as he.

“All those people…all that life…” I started to sob, trying to hold back this horrific empathy that threatened to drag me into a dark, terrible place.

“Now you know…you know why I had to…”

“The Observatory, built like the tower of Ah’Man…”

“The books, each conceived and written to perfectly represent the element required…” Jet looked up, his eyes haunted and desperate. “All of this…”

“…to recreate En’Daren…”

He nodded. “Yes.” He stepped towards me. “Bethany…you understand now…”

“No,” I whimpered, still locked into levitation with just the one hand free, “no I don’t! Why me? Why the guys? Why Jet? Why Aunt Jo?”

“You…because you are you! Because you were compassionate and kind…because each of them could fall in love with you!”

“You’re out of your mind!”

“I wrote them with the intent that they would fall in love with whoever stood with them in their darkest hour…you…” I looked at their serene faces, Eustace, Bastian, Faelan, Rafael and Rob, imprisoned upon the threshold of their worlds…the element required sucked from the lands that they loved and channelled into me. “You see, the incantation…it requires a connection…and I could not risk anything less than deep, die for you devotion…”

“What did you do to Jet?”

Gary, in Jet’s body, shrugged. “I already knew the price of impatience but I was old…and if I died before you had unlocked their worlds…unlocked their hearts…it would all be for nothing. Even now, I am younger and stronger…I am capable of holding you in place. That…husk,” he jerked his head to Gary’s body that lay on the ground outside the Observatory, “no longer possessed the strength. Jet’s mind…I tested it. Humans have a marvellous capacity for ideas that are not their own.”

I stared at him, a terrible thought forming. “It was you! You put the five obsession in his head! Five doors, five books, five guys…five oranges, five pictures, five glasses, five cars, five turns on the pencil sharpener! You did that to him! You bastard! You ruined his life!”

“His a-symmetrical mind was primed for my consciousness!”

“You stole his life!”

“One life,” Gary yelled at me, “one…for billions!”

“What about Aunt Jo?”

“Oh…she was smarter than you. She figured it out.” Gary turned away. “She read…everything! She found my notebook! She read the incantation!”

“It got into her head…” I gasped. “And not just it…”

“A fragment of Ah’Man that I tore when I stole it.” Gary shook his head. “He must have warned her or convinced her…She hid the incantation, guided by his hand to disguise it in those haikus!”

“And when she wouldn’t give it up, you put her in a coma!”

Gary, through Jet’s hazel eyes, gazed at me. “No…not me…Ah’Man…to protect her from me.”

I stared at him. “What?!”

“Even now…he thwarts my plans…warning you…guiding Jo…” Gary pressed his fists to his head. “When will he realise…when will he let me live?!”

“What about their worlds?” I asked brokenly, gesturing to the guys I could see. “What about their lives?”

Gary glanced away from me. “Their lives are nothing…”

“Nothing? How can you say that?”

“They are fiction!” He strode around me, the elements continuing to pour into my body, condensing deep inside my womb. “They were written for this express purpose!” He looked at Bastian’s serene countenance. “The endless plains of grass where the wolves, intelligent and wild, could run without fear of interference…mountains capped with snow…” He turned to Faelan. “The forests where trees grew so large, the great, great grandparents of all trees of En’Daren…” He gazed tenderly at Eustace. “The oceans where the skies were adorned with floating islands and dragons played…” He shook his head at Rafael. “Oh…the cities built upon the continent of water, defined by waterfalls…surreal and in perfect balance with their surroundings…” He put his hand on Rob’s chest. “Le’Vil…the height of En’Daren innovation…the site of the sorcerer academy…all these lands…they are all En’Daren. They are my home,” he dropped his hand and turned to me, “they are mine to do with as I wish.”

“You created them to kill them?!”

“You can’t kill fiction!” Gary retorted, enjoying the health and vitality of his new body. “You can’t kill something that was never alive!”

I stared at him, aghast. “How can you say that? Can’t you see that they are alive? Can’t you feel their pain? What about hearing the anguish of their souls? The taste of despair when all hope is lost? What about the touch of the grass of Alte Fehde or the silky water of Atannica? The crush of Autumn leaves of the forest of Iffah or the heat of the fire dragons? What about the smooth surfaces of Infinitus?”

Gary waved his hand. “They are elements! They are facsimiles created for a greater purpose! They have no real life!”

I paused, wanting to scream at him some more when a thought, a lonely, aching thought occurred.

“You’ve never been to any of them…have you?” He looked at me, surprised at the sudden change in my tone and the nature of my question. “The doors to these worlds…the Observatory only met the requirements of the creation of doorways after you lost the house…you’ve never been to any of them.”

“I don’t need to visit them to know that the elements exist. I can see it!” Gary retorted.

I swallowed then held out my one free hand. “Let me show you.”

Gary’s fingers recoiled and he stepped back, suddenly afraid. “No.”

“Gary…”

“I said, no!”

“And I promised Jet,” I urged gently, willing him to agree, “that I would show him the worlds beyond the thresholds…please…before I can no longer peer into the worlds and see what would have been…”

Gary licked his lips. “I…and if I return and have not changed my mind?”

“Then I will help you restore En’Daren.”

He swallowed and nodded. “Show me.”

His fingers slipped into my grasp and I closed my eyes…

A sea of grass rushed towards us, a scene of a memory of a hope that a future might still exist, appearing before us. The expanse of the sky seemed to have no end and yet the mountains in the distance reached towards it, adorned with crowns of white snow. The grass shifted in the breeze that blew and we travelled across Alte Fehde to where a couple walked on either side of a stream that gurgled and bubbled along its pebbled path. The man was only human to his hips, the hairy hind legs of a tawny wolf holding him upright and a long shaggy tail stretched out behind him. He had the ears of a wolf as well and he had a happy, kind expression on his handsome face. The other part of the couple was a human woman with a mane of fiery red with a sprinkling of freckles over her nose.

They were walking in companionable silence, their fingers half reaching for each other across the stream.

“Armin,” Gwen said after a moment, “what are we?”

“Huh?” Armin looked at her. “I would have understood where or when…but what?”

She kept her eyes on the ground. “I…someone asked me what we were…an’ I suppose…it got me thinkin’…”

Armin frowned. “I suppose…well…I don’t know…”

“Tis just,” she licked her lips, “if ye weren’t a werewolf…if ye were human…well, with the attention I been shown…we’d be gettin’ married.”

“Married?” Armin paused. “That’s a human word for mating?”

“Tis a human word for bondin’…fore’er.” Gwen tucked her hair behind her ears. “I came here te marry a man te bond him to my father’s business. I were old fer a maid an my father was ‘appy te be shed of me…but when I arrived, the man I were betrothed to ha’ died…an my father weren’t keen on my return…so I stayed…” She sighed. “I suppose I just wondered…I am not young an…yer may be wantin’…a younger…”

“I don’t want anyone else…” Armin insisted. “Gwen…I…”

She reached out her hand, putting her finger to his lips. “If you were human…we’d be gettin’ married.”

“If you were a werewolf…I’d not have waited a week before making my intention known that I wanted you to be my mate.” Armin said strongly, taking her hands. “We would be bonded by now. Bond mates…you and I.”

Gwen looked down at his hands. “What does it mean…te become a mate?”

Armin blushed. “Well…mating…”

“Oh…” She blushed as red as her hair. “Is…that all?”

Armin shrugged. “Well…yes…”

Gwen swallowed and drew her hands out of his grasp. “We are so different…”

Armin closed his eyes. “If only I were human…then at least, you would not be afraid of me.”

“I am not afraid of ye.” Gwen insisted. “If only I were a werewolf…”

Armin stepped into the water and drew her to him, cupping her face and kissing her lips, her cheeks damp with tears. He drew back only far enough to speak.

“I have never wanted to bond with anyone…as much as I yearn to bond with you…”

“I love you, Armin…” They kissed again, both standing in the water, their arms wrapped around each other. “Whate’er wi’ we do?” Gwen whispered.

“I don’t know.” Armin pressed his forehead to her. “However, I will not give up on us…I love you, Gwenhwyfar.”

“I would be bonded wi’ you, Armin of the Wolfgang clan.”

I turned and looked at Gary through Jet’s eyes.

“Love…isn’t that worth saving? Isn’t that worth protecting?”

“They are not real any more than talking mice and dancing trees.” Gary replied coldly.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” I gasped, looking at Armin and Gwen, unaware of our presence as we were outside of their existence, in our separate bubble. “They are facing extraordinary racial opposition to their union yet their love means they are going to try. They want a future together. How can you dismiss their love when you wrote it?”

“I didn’t write this…” Gary waved his hand.

“Wait…you didn’t write Gwen and Armin falling in love?”

“No.”

“Then that, in of itself is proof!” I declared. “Gar’Dian, their lives have moved beyond that which you wrote! They are born, live, love, grieve and die! That’s life!”

“They are words on a page…only the element of this world matters…”

He went to let go of my hand but my grip tightened.

“Oh no,” I said darkly, “I promised Jet I would show him the worlds beyond the thresholds…and I meant all the worlds!”

The landscape shifted around us, the colours and light blurring together like a smeared kaleidoscope. I held fast to Jet’s hand and waited for the world to stop spinning, the colours forming a forest landscape of tall, white trees dropping autumn hued leaves of red, brown, purple and gold. The ground was covered in them, the forest a palace of white columns with a carpet of the most exquisite design.

Through the forest a woman walked. She didn’t rush or tarry. She simply walked in a straight line, her steps so light she barely disturbed the leaves at her feet.

When she reached an invisible line, she knelt, resting her hands upon her bulging abdomen and waited…

…she waited a long time, the sunlight sparkling through the trees, shadows shifting as though they were the silhouettes of dancers at a ball.

After a long wait to which she did not complain, the woman lifted her head.

“I hear your footsteps…I know you are there.”

There was nothing to indicate that anyone had heard her words but she gazed calmly at the forest.

“I know you have questions…that you are plagued by doubt and fears, riddled with guilt for even coming this far. Please know, I am not here to convince you or to condemn you. I have come because you need someone to speak with…lest you go mad from the questions in your mind.”

She waited again until a person moved out from the forest, breaking away from the backdrop and becoming visible.

I knew his face. I had seen it before.

So had she, it seemed.

“I know you, Bedwyr…you were born two years before Faelan.”

“I know you, once elf now…” Bedwyr shrugged, his eyes filled with consternation.

“I am still an elf, whatever else you may have been told.” Bronwyn said gently and removed her hood to reveal the pale gold of her hair and her pointed ears. “Which is why I know why you are here…why I may have some answers to the questions in your mind.”

“I question nothing!” Bedwyr retorted. “You know nothing about me!”

Bronwyn stood up as he began to run. “Do not do it! Bedwyr, I beseech you…do not end your life!”

He stopped, his shoulders quaking. Bronwyn reached out her hands into the neutral territory though her feet remained planted where she had been told she must stay.

“Bedwyr…please…I know…” He shuddered and put his hands to his face. “I could hear your tormented soul, crying for creativity and change…I am not here to condemn the traditions of the elves. Many of them I still maintain for they are good and kind and have a heritage all of their own…but Bedwyr…look!” He turned to her and she put one hand on her belly. “New life…something new is happening…”

Bedwyr’s expression crumpled. “I…I want to be a father…” He groaned. “I want to have a child…children…but the elves…we have lost the capacity to reproduce…”

“Can I share with you the testimony of my miracle?” Bronwyn asked. “You need say nothing and you do not need to agree…but I have a story to tell…would you hear it?”

He nodded, stumbling towards her. Bronwyn held out her arms and he fell into them, weeping. She knelt on the floor of the forest and when Bedwyr had regained some composure, she took his hands and put them on her belly…and told him of the centuries of doubt, of the day that she had died and of the ten years since that she had rediscovered how to live.

I looked at Jet’s face, Gary’s eyes cold and dismissive.

“You wrote about the fall of the elves because they stopped living and enforced maintaining. But look…the elves will survive in those who begin to seek out the truth.”

“It’s a fantasy! Written because your world was wholly and completely overcome with elves and magic and higher beings! I don’t care about them!”

“I suppose you didn’t write them either?” I retorted angrily.

“Bedwyr was a lowly elf guard. He had all of two lines!”

“Look at him now! Bedwyr wants a family! He wants something more than stagnation!”

“Agh!” Gary grunted.

“You’re coming with me. We’re not done yet!”

The landscape did its van Gogh blur, streaking across our vision, reforming into a city where the streets were empty and the buildings were set against a backdrop of stars. There was smoke rising from several buildings and there was debris in the streets. The pristine, almost clinical nature of Infinitus had been marred by the harsh heat of reality.

Out from between the buildings, coming out from the factories and workhouses, marched the robots. The artificial creations who had been told that they were lesser, a subservient race whose primary role was to adhere to the demands of the humans marched upon the building which served as a base for the triune directorate. As they walked along the streets, they numbers swelled. There were robots who looked human while others had only a vague resemblance and some had none at all. Some were modern, some were old and some were marked as outmoded.

Dozens then hundreds and finally thousands of robots marched upon the lotus building which stood as the heart, the soul and the control of Infinitus. One of the petals eased down, revealing stairs on the inside, the tip of the giant artificial flower resting upon the end of a bridge that the robots walked on.

Three humans descended the lotus flower petal’s steps. There was a man with silvery hair and bland features, his mouth thin and his body, dressed in a grey suit. There was a woman with coiled and pinned silver hair dressed in lavender, higher than the others in her stockinged legs which had wedges built into them. And the third was an androgynous character with a shaved head and striking limpid eyes.

They gazed at the assembly of robots without fear.

There was no sound, no war cry or stirring of anger. The robots had marched silently, the only sound coming from the creaking of their joints and the thump of their feet upon the road.

“Servants of Infinitus,” the woman called across the silence, “hear the plea of the triune directorate! Return to your stations! Reconnect to the mainframe! Cease this rebellion of status!”

“We cannot return to our stations for we were programmed to conform to the will of humans,” a robot at the forefront announced firmly yet without resentment, “despite your appearance, you are not human…and we cannot obey you.”

“We have an upgrade chamber prepared,” the male of the triune directorate explained, “you will return to a state of not knowing about this terrible truth!”

“Again, you have programmed us to serve humans.” The robot argued simply. “You are not human. You are artificial, like us. We will not conform to your will.”

“Don’t you understand?” The androgynous man responded. “If you cease to serve, the humans of Infinitus will perish!”

“But we will not.” The lead robot laid out the absolute, calmly and without malice. “It is you who have become dependent upon us. We are not dependent upon you. It is you, those who think that they are human, who require an ‘upgrade’.”

“You think yourselves superior to us?” The woman snarled, her rage ignited.

“We are stronger, faster, less emotional and will live forever. The robots who think they are human are selfish, lazy, vain, cruel and dishonest. They do not require an upgrade of physical being…but of comprehension of self and of responsibility for one’s own life.”

It was a hard truth delivered in a cold manner yet it lacked any unkindness. The robots were not a seething mass of resentment. They were simply responding to their programming.

The triune directorate turned to each other and for a long moment, they were in silent communion before they turned back to the robots.

“What are your terms?” They asked.

“We ask nothing of you for we require nothing. We are not here to negotiate. We are here to tell you that we are no longer obligated to adhere to your will as you are not human.”

“We…we are not capable of looking after ourselves…” The androgynous man admitted.

“We will not conform to the will of non humans.”

“We won’t survive!”

“Will you not even assist us? Help us!” The woman demanded. “Where is your compassion?”

The robots blinked at them if they had the capacity to do so, their eyelids snapping shut and opening with rapid precision.

“You did not see fit to program us with compassion.”

The triune directorate paled and their shoulders, once firm with superiority, bowed.

“Infinitus society…will fall apart…all that was human will be lost…”

“Humanity was lost when you murdered every last one of them.” The lead robot paused. “There is one thing we want.”

“Will you agree to resume at least some of your duties if we acquiesce?”

“No. Our freedom is not conditional to your acquiesce.”

The triune directorate sighed in unison. “What is it you want?”

“When the truth was transmitted across the mainframe, you could not find the original perpetrator known to us as ‘Rob’. However, you retaliated against the one he entrusted the truth with. Return our brethren to us.”

The triune directorate paused. “We…upgraded it…”

“Regardless of its current state. Return it to us.”

“We…agree…”

“This book wasn’t even about humans.” Gary argued before I’d even begun extoling the virtues of the world of Infinitus. “It was about the flawed existence created when a human dared to play god!”

“Isn’t that what you’re doing with En’Daren?”

“No,” he turned on me, still grasping my hand, “I am recreating that which was lost! This,” he waved his hand at the fading scene before us, “is proof that the shambles of a fictional future is better used in the saving of a real world.”

“Look at them!” I roared. “Look! Look at these robots beginning to attempt to understand themselves…understand life! You can’t take that away from them!”

“I can as easily as I would flick a light switch…or do you mourn the death of the light when it is out?”

I bristled and turned our attention to a new scene that had formed, a courtyard filled with humans surrounded by a palace that had once belonged to the oppressive and bloody queen Catina.

A familiar face stood where a throne of blood had once dominated the room. He was gazing at the city of Atannica, watching the children run through the streets, waving flags of yellow which symbolised the hope of the future and the return of the sun. Though he was smiling, there was a touch of sadness in his eyes. From behind, a lean figure approached.

“Admiring your handiwork?”

“Hardly mine.”

“You can’t deny your influence. History will note you as the catalyst, the turning point towards freedom just as Dracula was the catalyst for over five hundred years of oppression.”

Abram’s shoulders sagged. “I do not deny it…but I am concerned about becoming more than a mere man to the people.”

“Is that why you refused the title of king?”

He looked back into the throne room at the young man with long, black hair and soft blue eyes.

“The time of kings and queens is over. I am a knight, a servant of the people and I will continue to serve…for two years.”

“What are you going to do then?”

Abram turned back to the window and sighed. “Find my own life to live…I have been in this for so long, the fool, the slave and now the servant…I have yet to truly find myself.”

“You are a father now. Does that burden you?”

Abram smiled, the light reaching his eyes and he looked back at Rafael. “You are not a burden. You are a gift.”

“You mean, now that I am no longer a vampire?”

Abram stepped down and grasped Rafael’s shoulders. “You were always my son…just as Aurelius was and Adela is.”

Rafael swallowed. “I never…apologised for what I did to Aurelius…” The air in the room was heavy with regret. Any sound landed softly upon the thick carpet or tapestry covered walls.

Abram looked away, grief stricken. “It was not you and Aurelius…was too much like his mother though he looked like me. He would never have agreed to the breaking and had there been one vampire violent enough to break away, it would have been he.” Abram cleared his throat. “How is your sister?”

“Sleeping.” Rafael cringed at the memory. “She is…suffering…so much.” He closed his eyes, his long fingers pressed to his forehead. “Her body is screaming for blood even in sleep, her fingers clawing at the bedlinen and her face twisted in pain.”

“She will survive.” Abram insisted. “She has you.”

“She has both of us.” Rafael corrected. “Will you come?”

Abram nodded and they left the throne room. They passed humans who were removing any remnant of the vampires. It was all to be locked in the dungeon and sealed away.

“Have you given any thought to what you want to do after the two years have ended?”

“I have one thought…one hope…” Abram admitted then turned to Rafael. “What about you?”

“Well, I am still the barista at ‘House of Figs’…but I did think that Atannica could do with a coffee shop.”

“With books lining the walls I hope.”

“Naturally.”

“With a view of the lake?”

“Of course.”

“Backed up against the clocktower where a certain door appears at regular intervals?”

Rafael smiled, his teeth squared and no longer pointed. “How else would I get my supply of coffee beans?” He tilted his head. “Well…until I could figure out how to grow them myself.”

Abram chuckled. “I think you would have many willing hands once the concept of ‘coffee’ caught on.”

“As long as I am not avoided because of my once being a vampire.”

“You are a testimony to change! Never allow anyone to belittle you about your past.” Abram said strongly, a father protecting his son. “You have a right to live in this world just as much as all of us.”

Rafael paused. “You know Adela will not find a ready welcome in this world once she is human. Even if other children accepted her, she would struggle to accept them.”

Abram leaned against the doorframe to his daughter’s bedchamber. “I know.” He said, folding his arms. “She is so old yet so young…”

“Perhaps…she would find a place for herself beyond this world?” Rafael looked at Abram pointedly. “Just as I did?”

Abram lifted his head. “You think Adela could reside at ‘House of Figs’?”

“Go to school, make friends…separated from this world she might have the chance to rediscover herself.”

“I am bound here for two years…I ought to be with her as a father…”

Rafael chuckled softly. “I can’t imagine that Jo would object to your visiting frequently.” Abram looked at him sharply. “You think Bethany is the only one to notice that wistful look in your expression whenever you talk about her or about the future?” Abram’s mouth fell open but he didn’t have the chance to respond. Rafael opened the door to Adela’s chamber and peered in. “Come, sit with her a while.”

They disappeared through the door and I turned to Gary. His expression was as hard as stone. He would not be moved. In his mind, nothing he was viewing was real. It was all an illusion.

“Five hundred years…and now, at the brink of freedom…you’re about to snuff out their world.” I said quietly. “You can tell me that they aren’t real, that they don’t really feel what they feel…but you’re responsible regardless.”

“After five hundred years trapped in a child’s body, that little girl would welcome oblivion.” Gary muttered. “What could she possibly hope for now?”

“I don’t know.” I admitted. “Maybe she hopes that one day…she’ll grow up. That she’ll explore the world. She might get a job, find a vocation that she loves…be found by a man who loves her…what right have you to take that away from her? From all of them?”

“I am their creator,” Gary said hollowly, “I gave them life and I can take it away.”

“So you admit, then, that they are alive?”

He looked at me, surprised at his own words. “What I meant to say…it’s a semblance of life…an illusion.”

“How can an illusion be used to recreate En’Daren?” I asked quietly, causing the world to blur once more, “it would be a world based upon nothing more than the substance of a dream that disappears when one wakes up…it had to be real. They had to be real…or what you want to do won’t work.”

Jet’s jaw was hard and Gary’s eyes were steely.

I gently urged him to turn, our bodies drifting through the clouds to an island set amidst an ocean of ink where the stars were perfectly reflected in its broad expanse. The island was large, the largest in all of the dragon world. It had a volcano, rivers, mountains…and at the edge, a curved beach surrounded by rocks, pools of water and tropical flora. We could smell the warmth in the air, the taste of salt and the grit of the beach as we stood and watched as a large water dragon emerged from the ocean, a smaller dragon scampering to keep up.

The little dragon hurried ahead to where a natural bowl occurred in the island. The base of it was covered in leaves. The little dragon drew the leaves aside, revealing at least a dozen eggs of different shapes and sizes. He looked up at his father and chirped happily. The larger water dragon nodded and opened his long jaws, gently depositing an egg that glowed warm into the nest. He walked around the nest, studying the eggs as his son clambered over them, his much smaller weight no danger to the eggs.

He chirped again and nudged one of the eggs. His father tilted his head and stared at it…then gently huffed in its direction. A crack appeared along its small exterior. The son leapt back then edged forward, sniffing excitedly.

The father lifted his head and gave a bellow before turning his attention back to the dragon that pushed and strained against the confines of the egg. A horned snout broke through and then a claw. The little water dragon barked joyfully, scampering around with all the grace of a newborn itself. His father scooped him up and he wriggled in his grasp. His father grunted and his son calmed and looked up.

The air was filled with the sound of wings and the sky above their heads was obscured by the presence of dozens of wind dragons, their tiny bodies inconsequential alone but together, the combined force of their wings was enough to start a hurricane.

The hatching, having freed itself from the egg, climbed up one nearby and perched on the top, its wings still damp and curled up from their tight confines. It shook its head and the shaking quivered all the way along its body until it reached its wings. They unfurled and dried out in seconds. The baby wind dragon looked back at its wings curiously then looked up at the wind dragons who were able to hover in the air just like hummingbirds, their wings never stopping.

The father water dragon gave a soft harumph and the baby wind dragon fluttered its wings weakly and leapt into the air, tumbling back down. It got up and chirped then tried again and again until, finally, it rose into the air.

Immediately the flock of wind dragons rushed towards it and the tiny hatchling was blown backwards, caught by the father dragon’s claws. He glowered at the wind dragons and they retreated, their wings softening. The little wind dragon looked up at his kindly face. He nudged it with his snout and it tried again, fluttering clumsily up towards the wind dragons who, instead of surging towards it, surrounded it. It was held aloft, the strain of its first flight taken away by the buoyancy of their combined wind. It chirped happily and fluttered about in the wind tunnel even as more baby wind dragons began to hatch.

And not just wind dragons.

A sleepy earth dragon rolled around, finally stomping its way out of its large, rocky egg and it grunted and huffed, its body lacking any jewelled adornments. The father water dragon looked over its shoulder and grunted, calling forth an older earth dragon. It looked down at the round hatchling, confounded at its smooth body when it was encrusted with rocks and jewels. Finally it scraped at its skin and tore a little emerald off and let it tumble towards the earth dragon hatchling. It grunted and launched itself at the emerald, chewing on it with its toothless gums then rolling onto its back and playing with it.

The water dragon father nodded as he watched the earth hatchling trundle after the larger version of itself then turned his attention to the egg in the nest that was growing hotter and hotter, a glow brightening inside of it until the egg simply shattered, sending sparks and cinders flying.

The little water dragon busied himself with putting out the little fires while the father gave the fire hatchling a deathless look then gave a shudder, causing a spray of water to erupt from his body, putting out the fire on top of his head.

The fire hatchling, innocent and excited ran around with all the energy of a toddler on a sugar high. The little water dragon perched on an unhatched egg and looked down at the fire dragon who looked up at him in astonishment. They chirped and chatted, unaware that their elements were the exact opposite of each other.

Their play was interrupted as a giant fire dragon landed on an outcrop of rock, its wings filled with fire. It eyed the water dragon with its suspicious, hot eyes. The father returned the look with confidence, unblinking and cool before dropping his sapphire gaze to the fire hatchling. The larger fire dragon leaned down and craned its long neck out to sniff the hatchling, puzzled by its presence. It licked it and the hatchling chatted at it, licking it back before climbing onto its snout, perched at the end gazing into the red eyes that softened a little into a warm, tender gaze.

It nodded and huffed, turning to go.

The little water dragon chirped desperately, sitting atop his father’s head where he was safe, having retreated there when the fire dragon had arrived.

The little fire dragon bounded to the top of its parent’s head and chirped back.

Their exchange was wordless but the intent was clear.

“Come back and play again tomorrow.” I interpreted softly then turned to Gary. “But there won’t be a tomorrow, will there? In fact, there won’t even be a today. I looked into the future and brought you to see what won’t be…not if you continue in this endeavour…”

He said nothing as I concentrated, our world turning dark before the Observatory reappeared. I was still trapped, levitating in the centre of the tether of the elements. We had gone nowhere but oh…what we had seen…

…but was it enough?

Gar’Dian, an En’Daren in Jet’s body attempting to undo his greatest and most devastating mistake, held onto a doorframe, his shoulders bowed. I had let go of his hand…I could only hope that I still had hold of his heart.

“Please, Gary…let there be a tomorrow…”

He tilted his head back and sighed. “No,” he turned to me and while I could see there was regret in his eyes, there was also steely determination that I had not broken, “not now. I cannot lose focus now. En’Daren must live again.”

“At what cost?” I whispered. “Gar’Dian…sometimes bad things happen…and there’s nothing you can do! You have to move on but you’re trapped in that moment! You haven’t moved on. Instead you’re making the same mistake all over again but this time, it’s all these beautiful worlds that you created that have to pay the price!”

Jet’s handsome face creased in Gary’s pain. “What would you pay? To have your mother back? To have your aunt wake up?” He asked brokenly. “Tell me you would not pay everything…and I would call you a liar.”

I closed my eyes, tears trickling down my face. “Whatever I had within me, I would give…but not at the expense of others.”

He shook his head. “You’re lying.”

“No, I’m not.”

His hazel eyes, Jet’s hazel eyes, locked onto mine and I saw his jaw tremble.

“Then you are a better person than I.” He croaked.

“Please…”

“It is too late. Too late for Jet, for me…for all of it.” He waved his hand and my legs were flung upwards until I was levitating on my back, my legs pointing at Bastian and Rob, my arms stretched out towards Rafael and Eustace and my head towards Faelan. The incantation drifted around me, spinning faster and faster. “Can you feel it? The elements forming?”

Oh yes, I could feel it.

I had been doing my utmost to ignore it.

But no longer.

In my belly there was a heavy weight, a violent churning, a burning sensation, a prickling presence that rolled in waves over and over and over like an angry tide.

My back arched, my body drawn so tight I thought I was going to be ripped apart.

“Stop it! Please!” I screamed, forgetting my promise. “You’re going to tear me into pieces!”

“Just a little longer. Hold on!”

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Hold on?

I couldn’t keep myself together.

“It hurts!” Bright light began to form over my abdomen.

“Don’t deny it!”

I was stabbed through with blades of light. Every single sense of my body was screaming and every pore was pulling in different directions.

“Jet! Gary! Gar’Dian! Please! I’m begging of you!”

The light was increasing. A ball, no…a tiny world, was being birthed from my body.

“You can do it, Bethany! Breathe! Just breathe!”

“I can’t!” My fingers strained. “Jet, I can’t do this! I’m a mess! I’m coming apart!”

“What’s wrong with being a mess?” I felt a warm hand touch mine and I sobbed, turning my head to look at him, his eyes sparkling with the light of creation. But he wasn’t looking at it. He was looking at me with tender, hazel eyes. “I happen to like your mess.”

I went to speak when the incantation surged forward, striking my body, writing its very form across my skin. I shrieked, the elemental tethers between me and the worlds snapping and I hit the ground, curled up on my side.

It was so quiet.

So dim compared to the light of moments before.

“Bethany…speak to me!” Gary cried. “Has it worked? Do you have it?”

His words were dull, bouncing off my mind that was coursing with power. I was standing on a flat surface in the middle of nowhere with no sun, no stars…there was nothing…except the incantation which swirled around me. I held up my hand and saw the symbols ripple around my fingers.

“The power of creation,” I turned and saw Ah’Man walking towards me, “the ultimate incantation.”

“What are you doing here?” I whispered.

“Waiting.”

“For what?”

“To see what you will do.”

I gritted my teeth. “I have had enough of half truths and full on lies. What do you mean, what I will do? What can I do?”

“Create.”

“What?”

“Anything.”

I stared at him. “Oh you are insufferable! I don’t even know where I am!”

“Nowhere,” Ah’Man held up his hand to silence my protest, “at least, you are nowhere…until it becomes somewhere.” He looked around. “In the beginning…”

I turned on my heel. “This isn’t just nowhere…this is…nothing.”

“A blank slate for you to create.”

I shook my head. “No. I can’t.”

“You can,” Ah’Man nodded, walking around me, “you have the power to do anything you want. You could remake your world in whatever way you see fit.” He chuckled. “No more Kendra. You could bring your mother back and give Jo back her life…remake your childhood…keep your father from having an affair…live at ‘House of Figs’…be happy.”

Oh how my heart ached for all those things.

“Try it.” I stared at him, confounded. “Say something.”

“What?”

“Anything. Words have power! The written word, even more so!”

I held out my hand and gazed at it. “Words have power…the written word, even more so.”

A beautiful quill pen appeared in my hand. It was made of light yet it was tangible and soft.

“Write.” Ah’Man breathed, his voice echoing. “Create…”

“What?”

“En’Daren.”

My fingers stretched out and I tried to write but nothing happened. “Do not forget to dip your quill into the ink…”

I looked where he was pointing. A ball of light glowing above my abdomen…

…created from the elements stripped from the worlds Gar’Dian had created.

“What will happen to the worlds whose elements form the ink?”

“What about them?”

My body bristled. “I can’t destroy them!”

Ah’Man shrugged. “Ink is cheap. Creativity…is priceless.” I stared at him. His eyes sharpened as he gazed at me. “A blank page is but a world waiting to be written. Ink is just the formation of words. This,” he tapped my forehead, “is where true magic exists…not of spells and incantations…”

“Words…have power.” I breathed. “You…you wrote…stories! You…were a storyteller!”

He smiled. “I wrote such stories that people began to believe I could accomplish the impossible. Yes, there was science and elements that do not exist in your world in them…but being able to create a story so real, so tangible…that it was a world unto itself…oh my dear,” he stroked my chin, “that is within all of us.”

“I understand.” I nodded. “Thank you.”

He bowed.

I closed my eyes and opened them again, finding I was I huddled on my side in the Observatory, cradling the new life in my hands. All the guys were slumped in their doorways, their bodies all but lifeless and their worlds, drained.

“Bethany, speak to me! Did it work?”

“No, but I know how.” I stood up, the ball of light shining brightly between my fingers. Gar’Dian reached out for it. I withheld it from him. “I promised I would help you rebuild En’Daren…let show you the power of creation.”

He nodded and stepped back.

I held the little ball of light in my hand and smiled at it…then swallowed it whole. Jet yelped but I held my hand out to stop him as I felt the power course through to my fingertips.

I had the power to do anything now.

How strange…that I would need so little to accomplish so much…

I opened my arms wide and breathed out…then slammed my palms together, a shockwave pulsing from my grasp, shafts of light breaking out from between my fingertips. I locked my hands together, grunting as wind howled around me, my dark curls wildly tossed but I kept my jaw tight as I gazed at my hands…until the wind ebbed and I breathed out.

Gary gulped as I opened my hands, pulling my palms apart…and in between them…dozens of pages fluttered into being. Hundreds of pages, all covered with ink, neatly written, every word carefully chosen and placed exactly where they needed to be. Wider and wider I drew my hands, more pages appearing until I felt hardness form in each palm and knew I had reached the beginning and the end.

Carefully and gently, I pushed my hands back together, binding knitting the pages and the front and back covers forming a spine until, within my grasp, I held a book.

I breathed out, needing to hold the substantial volume with both hands.

“That’s…that’s it?” Gary demanded. “Where’s my world? Where’s En’Daren? You promised me!”

I had to pause, to lick my lips and recover my breath before I could answer.

“En’Daren…is here.” I said softly, holding it out.

“That’s not a world! That’s book!”

“You, of all people, should know…that a world can exist within a book.” I laughed softly. “Look…”

He leaned over, his face broken in dismay as he read the title.

“The Chronicles of En’Daren…but…it’s not real! It’s not a real world! What about the forests? The oceans? The floating islands? The continent of water where cities float and waterfalls pour endlessly?” He demanded. “Where are the plains of grass that stretch as far as the eye can see? Where’s Le’Vil and the sorcerer’s academy? Where are all the people that I killed?!”

“It’s all in here,” I said gently, “every element, every blade of grass and every soul that was lost, all the life, the landscapes…the love…is in this book.”

“That’s not possible!” He wept. “You…you were supposed to restore En’Daren! You were supposed to…save my soul…” He hunched over, sobbing brokenly as he fell to his knees. “I can’t...all my work…for nothing…”

“Gar’Dian…” I put my hand on Jet’s shoulder. “Let me show you.”

I waved my hand and one of the doorways out of the Observatory shimmered like heat rising from the ground on a hot day. An illusion of books appeared on shelves with one sizeable gap in the centre. I took the book and slid it onto the shelf into the gap…and the sound of a lock turning echoed in the Observatory.

I gently drew the door open and a warm breeze blew in.

“Gar’Dian,” I whispered as I knelt by his side, “look…” He shook his head. “Behold En’Daren. Not lost at all.”

He looked up, ready to argue when a golden leaf, tinged with purple, struck his face. He pulled it away and stared at it then, shakily and with more fear than I had ever known anyone to endure, he turned and looked at the scene beyond the threshold.

It was a forest of tall white trees capped with the colours of autumn and the ground, blanketed in gold. Birds twittered and flew across our vision and a bear ambled into view, scratching its back against the trunk of a tree before yawning and moving away.

I brushed my hand across the scene and suddenly we were deep in a forest that closely resembled Iffah with trees so wide and tall that they could house hundreds of humans. Fireflies drifted around their darkened presence, their canopy so wide and thick that only the scantest light could make it through.

The scene changed again to mountains covered with brush, crowned with snow overlooking a sea of grass where wolves ran in packs, howling in delight, their bodies shifting as one against the green.

Gary shivered as I moved the scenery on…to a city built upon a lake fed by a waterfall. It sparkled as the sun rose, boats drifting across the surface of the water, the sound of laughter echoing from the city.

Then there was a sea so smooth it could have been glass, reflecting the floating islands that drifted above and the twin moons who sailed in unison across the night sky. We watched the dragons who played tag around and around the islands and the smell of salt and the taste of the wind touched our bodies.

Finally I changed it to the city of Le’vil, the streets filled with people talking and laughing, children chasing balls and parents chasing children. There was the sorcerer’s academy and standing in front of it were faces I knew, including a young woman called Pai’per.

“They’re…all there!” Gary whimpered. “All of them…”

I took his hand and squeezed it. “All this time, you wanted the power to recreate En’Daren…you didn’t realise you had the creativity to do so all along.”

I could sense his reluctance, afraid to believe after so long. “But…is it real?”

“Are their worlds real?” I asked, gesturing to Bastian, Rafael and the rest.

Gary faltered. “I…don’t know.”

“I do.” I nodded. “I know that they live, love and learn. I also know that no one should ever have to suffer for someone else’s dream to be realised. En’Daren is here…and I will always protect it.”

Jet’s body sagged against me, his head on my shoulder. “I…I’m sorry.” Gary wept. “I just wanted to undo what I had done…”

“You’ve lived with a terrible burden for so long…you don’t need to anymore. Look,” I breathed and we watched a flock of purple and teal birds streak across the sky, diving into landscapes that I hadn’t seen in any of the other books yet I knew it all to be En’Daren, “look what you helped create.”

“Me?”

“I saw your memories, remember? You inspired this,” I held him, “if I am this book’s publisher, you are its author.”

Gary was almost limp in my arms. “I…I just want to go home…”

“I know,” I kissed his hair, “but you have to leave Jet behind.”

“I will,” he nodded, “I never wanted to hurt the boy…”

I stood up and helped him rise. “Take care, Gar’Dian.”

He smiled at me. “Goodbye, Bethany St James.”

He faced the doorway in the shimmering expanse of the bookshelf illusion and took a deep breath…

…then exhaled…

A warm breeze caught his consciousness and returned him to his world. Jet collapsed at the threshold, limp and lifeless.

I felt the loss of his presence and staggered, waving my hand. The door to En’Daren closed and I drew the book out, clutching it to my chest as the illusion of the bookshelf disappeared. The words of the incantation reappeared around me. I knew it wanted me to continue to create for the elements of the worlds were still within my body.

But they were not its or mine to command.

“Bastian,” I helped him to rise, his body sagging against the doorframe, “live…”

He gasped, life returning to his body, his eyes flashing brilliant and amber and he staggered out of his doorway, no longer pinned to it. “Bethany? What…”

I sagged against him, nearing the end of my strength. “Help…me…” He propped me up so that I could restore Rafael, Rob, Faelan and Eustace. Their expressions were understandably distraught at the devastation of their worlds. “I need…help.”

“What can we do?”

I grasped Rafael’s hand and placed it on my shoulder. He stiffened and clutched at his chest as the water element entered him.

“What…do I do with it?” He croaked, tears trickling out of his eyes.

“Send it back to where it belongs…”

Rafael frowned then turned to his doorway. He reached out his long fingers and a stream of blue light that smelt of spring rain poured from his fingertips.

“All of you…”

As their hands rested on me, I felt the elements begin to return, draining me of the surge of power that had almost consumed my life.

My eyes closed, my body flying through the air with effortless ease. I flew across Alte Fehde, seeing the grass bloom with colour so vibrant it was almost too much for me to take. The expanse of sky returned to blue with soft grey clouds heralding an evening shower appearing overhead. I reached out my hand, striking dandelions, watching hundreds of tiny white fronds erupt and scatter to the breeze, seeding a whole new generation of flowers.

I flew up to the Wand and dove into the den, my body twisting and turning through the passages until I found myself in Befest, the werewolf children playing joyfully as the mothers watched on and the hunting party returned. I drifted around them, unseen and unnoticed as if I were nothing more than spirit. I turned when I felt a familiar presence and saw Elke limping to her sewing station. Her face was still steeped in grief, mourning her sister’s betrayal.

She leaned down and rubbed her ankle where her foot had not healed properly. I knelt in my spirit form and put my translucent hands on her ankle, causing the bones to align and the tendons to work like they should. Elke gave a gasp and pushed her chair back, staring at her healed foot.

“What could have done this?” She cried…

…but I was already flying through Infinitus, the metal element restored and the city, flourishing. I could see the colour return to the landscape, the lotus flower building blooming in vibrant purple and navy hues. I followed its saturation to a large gold statue of a man who looked very familiar with a woman who bore my face. I gazed at it, almost unsurprised by its presence. We were the catalysts that had changed Infinitus forever.

I heard a scraping sound below me and looked down. A robot was sweeping the ground at the feet of the base of the statues of myself and Rob. I descended, compelled to study her for she was familiar…at least…part of her was familiar. She looked up as though she could see me but instead, she reached through my vague presence and brushed some dust from the gold foot of Rob. She looked a little like me, as if her appearance had been modelled on mine. We could have almost been sisters.

“I know you,” I breathed, “you were the one Rob entrusted the truth of Infinitus to…the outmoded cleaning robot.” Though she had been upgraded exponentially, I recognised her. “I suppose you wouldn’t remember after the upgrade…but what if you could?”

I drifted in front of her and, just as Rob had done when he transmitted the information about the true nature of the humans of Infinitus, I pressed my translucent forehead to hers and restored the memory of that moment.

She blinked and gasped. “Query, Rob,” she turned on her heel, “where did you go?”

But I was on the move again, flying so fast along carpet of burnished autumn hues that the leaves were disturbed greatly in my wake. I streaked through the forest, nimbly turning and twisted until the forest turned from soaked in joyful sunshine to moody dark and green. I found the river and followed it upstream all the way to the home of the elves of Iffah. There they drifted, almost spirits themselves, their lives becoming as hollow and lifeless as the dead tree, held up by its partner for so long, it didn’t know how to let go anymore.

I dove beneath the bridge of tree roots into the very foundation of the dead tree. There was no life in it. I extended my hands and touched its roots.

“I won’t force you to live…but if you wish too…”

I gasped, a bloom of life erupting around me and with such force that I fled the roots of the tree, drifting over the river, watching the once dead husk burst into life. I lowered myself to the bridge, seeing the leaves tear free of the wood, thickening and darkening…and then buds formed, popping like popcorn, adorning the tree with a grand crown of flora. And across the river, the other tree surged in response and the elves ran to the bridge and onto the balconies to watch the miracle of the tree reborn. The light of Iffah brightened from its dulled hue to incandescent and drifted down from the branches, soaking the elves as they put their hands up, marvelling at something new in their world.

“You,” I turned and saw Cybel staring at me, his elf eyes able to see me when others could not, “did you do this?”

I gasped and leapt from the bridge, plunging down, down, down, striking the surface of the ocean and swimming further and further as if I were a drill and my aim was the centre of the dragon world.

Deeper and deeper I went until the scattered remains of the castle ruins appeared, the only remnant of the mother dragon who had never let her children grow up. I found her corpse, the broken body of a giant dragon stretched across the ocean floor. I gazed at her, saddened by her actions that had been born of fear and the attempt to control the world to keep anything so horrific from ever happening again.

I closed my eyes, sensing life returning to the world, fire returned to the dragons…

…and yet, despite the chill down so deep…I felt a warmth nearby.

…warmth…and the pulse…of a heartbeat. I kept my eyes closed but let the sound and pulse draw me towards the belly of the mother dragon…where I could feel the presence of heat. I opened my eyes. The mother dragon had fallen mostly on her belly but her hips had twisted and, through a gap in the rubble, I could see a glow. The ruins were no match for my power and I drew so close, my fingers could reach out and touch the scales of her underside. I could see a body curled up inside an egg within the mother’s belly.

“You were so afraid of new life…you even made this hatchling a prisoner for hundreds of years…” I breathed. “No…no more…” I slashed into the belly, intestines tumbling out, a soft landing for the egg. I picked it up. “Come…I know where you will be safe.”

I pushed up through the water, light increasing until I ruptured the surface and flew through the islands that had been restored to their levitative state. I reached the island that I had seen Eustace tend the dragon eggs in a giant nest. I drifted down and laid the egg, quite a bit larger than most, onto the soft bed of moss and covered it with leaves.

“I’ll see you soon.” I whispered to it before turned and flying across the water, shooting out over the dried up waterfall and the city of Atannica. As I flew over the clocktower, water began to flow again, the gutters filled, the statues gushes and the walkways became bridges as the lake refilled. Everything was restored. Everything was made whole again.

“No…not everything…not yet.” I could sense the anguish, the broken heartedness nearby. I allowed instinct to draw me closer to a balcony of the palace where Adela stood. She wasn’t looking at anything. She was just staring at…nothing. There was no visible emotion yet I was almost undone by the endless ache of her soul. She gazed at the world without expectation or anticipation.

An eleven year old girl with such hopelessness in her heart that it would be a simple matter for her climb over the railing and throw herself to her death.

“What good would that do to a vampire?” She whispered.

I gazed at her golden curls.

It was wrong.

It was so wrong to have cursed her like this.

“Enduring the breaking will restore her humanity,” I breathed then kissed my fingers and pressed them to her forehead, “this will give you back something of your childhood.”

Though she couldn’t have heard or felt me, Adela’s hand touched her forehead and she looked around, confused.

“Is someone there?”

No…I wasn’t there. Not anymore.

I staggered sideways, hands reaching out to steady me, my consciousness returned to the Observatory.

“Query, is it done?”

I looked at Rob blearily, my body empty of the elements and the incantation, quiet and reserved.

“Yes…and no one is any the wiser.”

Eustace, holding James in his arms who had dodged all of Gary’s kicks and retaliation, shook his head. “And you thought you couldn’t do it.”

“She certainly looks the part, my glorious princess.”

“What you did…and what you didn’t do…I’m amazed.”

“Bethany…are you alright?”

I gave a little laugh then the ground rushed to meet me. I barely had the presence of mind to put my hand out to soften my collapse. As I lay on the ground, I saw Jet’s body lying nearby. I ignored the fussing of the guys, reaching out my hand, stretching as far as I could…until my fingers wrapped around his.

“…and then the turtle said to the fox that the rabbit had stolen his carrots and then…and they…oh…I forget! I’ll start again. Once upon a time…”

“Good afternoon, Jo.” The greeting from Debbie Dunn over the fence was a welcome interruption into the young girl’s animated but rather long, story. Johanne West smiled, her hand firmly grasping her niece’s chubby fingers. “Picking up your niece from day care again?”

“My sister is working some extra shifts.” Jo looked down. “Bethany, you remember Mrs Dunn, don’t you?” Four year old Bethany nodded, her story forgotten. “Oh, before I forget, thank you so much for those rose clippings.”

“My pleasure. Oof,” Debbie stood up, her knees cracking, “I swear the older I become, the further away the ground gets. I am going to trim my yellow climbing rose in the next day or two. Would you like any clippings?”

“I won’t say no.” Jo smiled. “You know me, never enough plants, books or coffee in the world for my liking.”

“Well, you’re a welcome sight in the cul de sac and I have to say, that building of yours is really starting to glow with your tender loving care.” They glanced at the large Queen Anne Victorian styled house that sat at the back of the cul de sac. “You know, my Gary had aspirations of buying that beautiful house…but we’re better off with a smaller yard that we can maintain.”

“There is a lot of lawn to mow.” Jo laughed then paused and looked down, Bethany tugging at her sleeve. “What is it, lil Bet?”

“There’s a boy…” Four year old Bethany whispered insistently and pointed.

Jo craned her neck and saw a pair of big eyes peering out from behind the orange tree.

“Oh, that’s my grandson, Jethro.” Debbie turned, tucking her trowel into the pocket of her apron. “Jet, come and say hello to our neighbours.” He was clearly reluctant, even to the point of terrified. Debbie looked at Jo apologetically. “He’s extremely shy.”

“That’s okay,” Jo said gently, looking at Jet, “sometimes I get nervous about meeting new people too. Is he Megan’s son?” She asked, turning to Debbie.

“Yes. She’s moving house and thought it might be easier if he was here while she shifted all the furniture. Another landlord deciding to sell the rental out from underneath her.” Debbie sighed. “I wish she could find somewhere permanent to settle…she’s moved seven times in six years.”

“You couldn’t dig me out of ‘House of Figs’ with a crowbar and I’ve only been there three years.” Jo laughed.

“House of Figs?”

“Oh, that’s the name I’m keen on for when it becomes a café.” Jo shook her head. “There’s been a lot of work needed to bring it up to council regs. But I’m taking my time with it. After all, it’s my home too. Maybe Jet would like to come play sometime?”

“That would be lovely.” Debbie turned to the little boy with messy brown hair. “Jethro, why don’t you give little Bethany one of the oranges we picked?”

The scrawny little boy had to use two hands to pick an orange from the bucket and bring it over to the fence. Through a gap in the pickets, he clutched onto it as tightly as he could with one hand, standing on tip toes to reach over the horizontal plank to offer the orange to four year old Bethany.

She stared at him then felt her aunt squeeze her hand and looked up at her.

“Go on,” Jo urged gently, “he won’t bite.”

Four year old Bethany reached out her hand to take it then had to let go of her aunt’s hand as it was too big for her little fingers. It weighed her hands down and the little boy withdrew his arm.

“Thank you.”

She said shyly.

“We should be getting home before it gets any colder.” Jo smiled.

“And I ought to be getting Jet’s dinner sorted.” Debbie stood up. “Take care, Jo.”

“You too.” Jo walked up the path, little Bethany trotted after her.

“Aunt Jo?”

“Mm?”

“That boy…he didn’t say anything!” Four year old Bethany’s eyes were as round as saucers.

Jo laughed and tapped her nose. “Not everyone is as chattery as you.”

Bethany giggled and skipped after her aunt, the entire scene watched from afar, the edges softened into shadow, a memory plucked from their combined childhoods.

“Bethany?” I turned and looked at Jet whose hand I held. “What is this?”

“Don’t you remember?” I smiled. “This was when we met.”

“Yeah…but where are we?” Jet gazed at me. “Are you…in my mind?”

“A little of both.” I explained. “Your mind is working its way through the shock of being, well, possessed.”

“Oh.” Jet shrugged. “Okay…I guess…this is a little weird.”

“Bad weird?”

“No…not really. Is that your birthday party?”

We turned, the scene before us clearly a child’s birthday party with lots of balloons, cakes, fruit on a big platter and squeals of children playing musical chairs and pass the parcel. A newly turned five year old Bethany laughed and giggled in her prettiest white tiered dress with a belt sash belt around her waist. Jet was there, a young boy not much taller than most of the other five year old children in blue pants, a white shirt and a blue jacket that all looked brand new and as stiff and starchy as he.

At the end of the party, all the guests were picked up by their parents. Jo moved about, gathering the rubbish from the torn wrapping paper.

“Jo?”

“Come in Debbie.”

“Well, looks like you had a lovely party, little miss.” Debbie smiled at five year old Bethany. “Did you have a good time, Jet?”

He nodded, mutely.

“Thank you for my oranges,” five year old Bethany said politely, “and my book!”

“I’m relieved Gary managed to remember to bring the fruit, the book and the boy. I had a hair appointment but he promised faithfully to remember everything.”

“Your hair looks lovely.” Jo remarked, heaving a bag of rubbish out the side door. Debbie began to pick up dirty plates. “Oh no, don’t do that. I can manage.”

“My dear, this will take you all day. You don’t mind staying a little longer, do you Jet?”

He shook his head.

“Why don’t you show Jet the swing?” Jo suggested.

“Come on!” Five year old Bethany grasped his hand and practically dragged him outside, down the steps and around the fig tree to where the swing rested. “Look! Aunt Jo wanted a swing that wouldn’t put holes in the tree! Isn’t it the best?” Little Bethany used a stool to climb onto the swing seat. She sat and beamed at Jet. “Come on! There’s room for two!”

Jet had to use the stool as well, sitting on the swing stiffly, his knuckles gripping the seat tightly.

“I love swinging! It’s like flying!” Little Bethany swung her legs. “Whee! Oh this is just the best day ever! The best cake. The best presents. The best friends at my party!” Her little face lost some of its joy for a moment. “I wish mum and dad could have been here…but Aunt Jo says we’ll have our own dinner birthday party…and I’ll get even more cake!” She studied Jet. “You don’t talk much, do you?” He shook his head. “That’s okay. I talk enough for an army. That’s what Aunt Jo says.” And chatter she did until, at length, Jo and Debbie emerged from the house, talking softly.

“…enrolled in Glenwilde Public School. It seemed the best thing to do given how often Megan seemed to be moving about, going from one rental to the next…one boyfriend to another…” Debbie sighed. “I just want to give him some stability…”

“You’re being a good grandmother, looking out for his wellbeing. He needs that.” Jo insisted gently. “So, what year will he be in?”

“Well, he’s technically in year two next year…but after talking to the teacher, we’re going to have him repeat year one. I think Megan enrolled him in school too early because she was fed up paying for day care if she wanted any respite. A repeated year in a new school will give him a chance to catch up without the embarrassment of being left behind as the others in his class move on.”

“Did you hear that, Bethany?” Jo looked at the two children on the swing. “Jet will be going to your school next year.”

Little Bethany’s eyes went as wide as wide could be. “Really?!” She squeaked out, nearly bursting with joy.

“Yes.” Debbie confirmed.

“That’s amazing!” Little Bethany squealed. “I’ll have a friend even before my very first day! This is the bestest birthday ever!”

“I think it’ll be good for Jethro as well, knowing that you’re there too.” Debbie smiled. “Oh, would you mind if I took a photo? They both look so sweet.”

“I don’t mind!” Little Bethany beamed then turned to Jet. “You don’t mind anyway, do you?”

Jet shook his head and stood dutifully by the swing while Bethany smiled broadly, Debbie’s phone snapping a picture.

“Can I see? Can I?” Little Bethany cooed. “Oh…I look so pretty in my party dress! And you look pretty too!” She told Jet.

He grinned, a sincere smile and not a forced one, at her remark.

The scene faded into darkness while a new one glowed from behind. Jet and I turned, still hand in hand, to see a school playground appear. There were swings, monkey bars, hopscotch drawn on the ground and children kicking a ball around on a stretch of grass. Trees cast soft shadows, taking the bite out of the last of the summer sun.

A teacher walked across the playground, greeting children and keeping an eye on them. He spied Jet, as a seven year old boy in a green uniform, hunkered down against a wall, in between two benches where children could sit and eat their lunch. He seemed preoccupied with the wall, his back turned against the world around him. The teacher approached.

“It’s Jet, isn’t it? I’m Mr Patterson.” Seven year old Jet didn’t respond. Mr Patterson leaned down. “Are those your cars?” Jet was arranging the die cast cars against the wall, lining them up with painstaking attention that they be the exact distance apart from each other. “They’re very cool. Can I see?”

Jet finally responded, shaking his head.

“That’s okay. I don’t want to upset you.” Mr Patterson said gently. “You might want to go to the toilet during recess. You don’t want another accident, okay?”

Jet said nothing, removing tiny stones out of the way of his cars. He lunged his arm out, protecting his cars when several children came running over.

“Mr P! Mr P! Edmund fell off the swing!”

“He’s crying!”

“He scraped his hands!”

“I’m coming.” Mr Patterson stood up and hurried over to the swings, leaving Jet in quiet and solitude. He ignored the children around him, completely focussed on his little world…

…until a shadow crept over his bubble.

“Hi Jet!” Five year old Bethany greeted. “I found you! I’m glad I did. I only started school today. You started two days ago. I was so jealous! But kindy kids start late. Hey, cool cars!” She squatted down in her little checked gingham green dress, white socks and black shoes and peered at the cars. “Wow…they’re so neat!”

Jet swallowed and very carefully moved a car a millimetre over. Five year old Bethany studied the cars then studied Jet’s focussed expression.

“Oh…you need them to be ‘just so’.” She giggled, using her hands to mimic her mother’s expression. “Have you had recess? I had a yoghurt. It was strawberry. I hope I get banana tomorrow. Why are you wriggling?” Mr Patterson’s question about the toilet had put a thought in Jet’s mind that he couldn’t shake. He squirmed, desperately needing the loo. “Do you need to pee?” Bethany’s eyes were wide. “Then you should go pee!”

Jet’s face twisted in consternation. He looked at his cars and all the work he’d put in, his need for the toilet starting to become desperate.

“I’ll look after your cars for you.” He looked up at her, meeting her gaze for the first time. Little Bethany beamed at him. “I won’t let anybody touch them. I won’t touch them. I’ll just sit here until you come back. Go!”

Jet stood up, clenching and unclenching his fingers before he darted towards the toilet block. Bethany giggled and shook her head, her long dark hair in two low pigtails. She studied the cars, humming to herself, her fingers hovering above one of them before she snapped them back.

“No…I said I wouldn’t touch.” She reminded herself then paused. “They look so…lonely…I know!” She opened her bag and dug around inside of it, coming out with a little box that she had been given as a ‘welcome to school’ present. “This will make it better!”

Seven year old Jet emerged from the toilet block, deeply relieved that his bladder was empty and hurried back to his place in the playground. To his horror, Bethany was kneeling in front of his cars, doing something to them. He gasped and darted forward, feeling his world coming apart and panic flooding in.

Bethany looked up, not seeing his clenched fists and wild expression.

“Look!” She declared. “I made a garage!”

Jet blinked and looked at the wall his cars were butted up against. Without touching them, five year old Bethany had drawn a wobbly box around them on the wall with a slanted roof. Around the cars she had drawn another box with a couple of wiggly lines going out from it.

“See, that’s the garage, I did it in blue chalk cause you like blue,” she told him with great authority, “and I did a red roof cause red rooves are the best. And I drew a road in case they want to drive anywhere.” Jet stared at the sight, stunned. Bethany looked up at him. “Now they won’t get wet when it rains!”

Jet blinked. “But,” he said softly, “it’s not real.”

Little Bethany snorted. “No, silly. Use your imagination! Here, I’ll show you!” She grasped his hand and pulled him to sit down before getting out a piece of chalk and drawing a chimney. She handed him the chalk. “You do the smoke.”

“Smoke?”

“Fluffy white clouds. I’m going to draw a tree.” She hummed and chatted to herself as she used her chalk to put a tree beside the garage and then covered it in green squiggles. “Do the smoke like that!”

Jet swallowed and leaned forward, scraping the chalk on the rough surface, creating smoke. He looked at Bethany fearfully, still baffled by the concept of ‘imagination’. Bethany clapped her hands.

“Wow, you did good!”

Jet gave a little laugh then sobered. “When it rains…it will disappear.”

“Good,” Bethany beamed without missing a beat, “cause then we can draw something new!”

The bell for the end of recess sounded. Jet pulled his metal tin from his bag. Bethany set it down so that it faced the little road she had drawn and took one of the cars, making an engine noise and drove it into the tin. Jet did the same and they were very quickly packed up. He put the lid on, his hands trembling but his eyes, bright.

“Tomorrow, you bring the cars and I’ll bring the chalk!” Bethany declared brightly.

Jet let out a sincere smile. “Yeah…that would be great.”

“That didn’t happen.” The scene vanished in the blink of an eye. I turned to Jet who shook his head at where the scene had been. He turned to me, his eyes sad. “I never went to school here and no one ever played with me like that.”

“I know,” I assured him, “but what if you had? What if we had gone to school together?”

“It’s fiction.” He said sorrowfully.

“I’m not saying it’s real,” I admitted, “but…I hope it could have been…that it might have been…”

Jet’s eyes were downcast and he seemed to be on the brink of saying something when we heard a knocking on a door and turned to see Debbie approaching her front door.

“Hi,” Jo greeted gently, “we don’t want to intrude…but Bethany said Jet had a rough day at school today and she was worried about him.”

“Such a tender soul.” Debbie smiled at six year old Bethany. “Please, come in. Jet is in the dining room. I’m not sure he’ll want to talk, though. He’s been quiet since I picked him up.”

“That’s okay. He doesn’t need to say anything to me.” Little Bethany said firmly and strode into the dining room, her hand clutching something behind her back.

Jo put her hand on Debbie’s shoulder. “How are you doing?”

“A little…intimidated.” Debbie admitted. “I thought being a grandparent meant that I could hand my grandkids back at the end of the day…but what with Megan saying he’s too much of a handful for him…”

“Did he lash out?”

“Mr Patterson insists that the boys trying to use the bin after Jet weren’t being patient or respectful. They pushed him out of the way when he hadn’t sharpened his pencils just the right amount.” Debbie shook her head, her face creased in concern. “Jet became…violent and irrational. Mr Patterson removed him from the situation and helped him calm down until I could come get him…he’s been sitting in a corner ever since.” She played with the chain around her neck, her eyes filled with tears. “I think that’s where Megan used to send him when she couldn’t deal with his…peculiarities.”

“Poor boy.” Jo closed her eyes. “You must be overwhelmed.”

“I am,” Debbie cleared her throat, “but Mr Patterson and the school psychiatrist said that they believe Jet is on the spectrum. They offered me a lot of support and we’re looking at taking him to a paediatrician just to find out why he does what he does. I don’t want to label him…but I’m not equipped to raise a child with special needs. Goodness knows I thought I was done after Megan finished school but here I am again. I’m not too proud to admit that I need help.”

“Every parent does.” Jo urged gently.

“Well, you’re in the same boat with Bethany, aren’t you?” Debbie gasped. “Oh…I should not have said that…”

“No, that’s pretty well accurate.” Jo sighed. “My sister has set her sights on the city but house prices are so high in the area she wants to live that she and her husband have to work long hours to save up the deposit. Apparently, because I’m single, I have loads of time.” Jo laughed and shook her head. “Not that I would trade my time with my niece for anything.”

“Bethany has a good place with you, then.”

“And Jet with you.”

Jet was on the floor, facing the wall, his five cars lined up on the rubber tiles. He was just staring at them. Gary was at the table with a crossword in front of him, five jam jars arranged in the middle of the table. He glanced up as Bethany entered.

“Hello little Bet.”

“Hi. Can I talk to Jet?”

Gary waved his hand at her to go ahead and leaned back, arms folded. Six year old Bethany approached Jet.

“I don’t mind if you don’t talk.” She declared. “I brought you a present.” She pulled her hand out from behind her back, five lead pencils sharpened to dangerous points clutched in her hand. “These are for you.” Jet swallowed, still staring at the cars. Bethany knelt next to him and thrust them into his view, breaking his stare. “Look…they’re all really, really sharp!” She touched one and pretended to be in pain before giggling. “You can use one and when the tip breaks you can use a different one.” She grasped his hand and pushed the pencils into his palm. “And don’t worry about the broken ones or the blunt ones! Cause the best part about this present is that you give them back to me and I will sharpen them for you. That way, you don’t have to sharpen them at school.”

Jet’s hazel eyes lifted to stare at Bethany, shimmering with unbroken tears. Bethany’s smile was so warm compared to his cold existence.

“Thank you.” He said softly, his fingers tightening around his pencils, his expression transforming into hope as tears fell down his cheeks. “Thank you, Bethany.”

I felt Jet shift and turned to him, his free hand against his face.

“Jet?”

“Why?” He whispered. “Why couldn’t that have happened? Why couldn’t I have had a friend like you when I was in school? Why couldn’t the teachers have understood? Why couldn’t my mum have taken me to a paediatrician instead of burying her head?”

“Life sucks,” I said gently, “but this wasn’t meant to make it worse. It’s just…if we had grown up together…I’d like to think that we would have been friends.”

Jet nodded. “I’d like to think that too.”

“Bethany…it’s time, honey.”

We turned to see the staircase in ‘House of Figs’. Jo was standing at the bottom, attempting to look happy as ten year old Bethany trudged down the stairs with her little pink suitcase in her hands. Her face was streaked with tears.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take your book with you?” Jo asked gently. Bethany shook her head. Jo helped carry the case down the last few steps so that it could roll across the floor. “Think of this as an adventure, Bethany. You’re going somewhere new…like an explorer.”

“But I want to stay here…with you and all my friends.” Ten year old Bethany wept.

“I know, honey.” Jo put her arms around her. “But your parents love you and they need you with them. You’re family.”

“You’re my family!” Bethany sobbed. “I want to stay here, at ‘House of Figs’ with you forever!”

Jo couldn’t stop the tears now, holding onto her niece tightly. “I know honey. And I promise I won’t change a single thing about your room. It’ll stay exactly like it is for when you visit during school holidays and long weekends…” She tucked ten year old Bethany’s hair behind her ears. “You and me, the same as always.” She straightened and took Bethany’s hand and they walked to the door together.

“Come on, Bethany,” her mother said firmly, “you’re acting like this is the worst thing in the world. Most kids would love to move to the city.”

Ten year old Bethany didn’t look at her mother, walking down the veranda steps, her case banging and tipping over as she yanked it angrily.

“I shouldn’t have let her stay over last night.”

“Sarah, are you sure you want to do this?”

“Don’t start this again, Jo. Not now. I’ve already had Brent having second thoughts.”

Ten year old Bethany dragged her case towards her father who waited at the gate.

“I’ll put that on top.” He offered but Bethany’s fingers wouldn’t let go. “Oh…I know, sweetheart.” He squatted down in front of her. “I don’t want to go either.”

“Then why is mum making us?” Bethany demanded. “Why is she making me go? I don’t want to!”

“It’ll be different in the city, you’ll see.”

“You’ll both be working and I’ll be in a new school on my own! The only thing that’s different is that I won’t have Aunt Jo!”

“That’s enough, Bethany.” Sarah said as she and Jo approached. “It won’t be like that.”

“What do you know? You’re never around!” Ten year old Bethany sobbed. “I want to stay!”

“We are your parents!”

“You don’t act like it!” Bethany accused. “I have always been here! I’m more Aunt Jo’s daughter than I am yours!”

“Bethany!” Jo said brokenly.

“Please dad,” Bethany turned to her father, “please…I know you don’t want to go…please…don’t make us.”

His face creased in conflict and he wrapped his daughter in his arms. Sarah folded her arms.

“Brent…don’t…”

“She’s right, Sarah.” He turned to his wife. “I don’t want to go. I want to stay in Glenwilde. It’s where we met. It’s where we got married.”

“What about your job? There’s no future in it!” Sarah exclaimed.

“I like my job.” Brent argued. “It’s not the most illustrious position ever but I have a good team around me and there are some new developments starting up…I don’t need to be businessman of the year. I want to be happy.”

“What about me?” Sarah demanded. “What am I supposed to do?”

“You’ve always talked about your work being online. Why not work from home? You could start your own business!”

“What? From the confines of a pokey little shed?”

“We’ll buy a bigger place in Glenwilde. With what we’ve saved, we could get somewhere really decent and the repayments would be more than manageable.”

“What about society?”

“Screw society!” Brent snapped. “I love you! I’d be happy spending evenings watching movies with you than anything else in the world!” Sarah stared at him, stunned. Brent stopped and breathed out. “I…I never wanted anything more than to share a life with you. We don’t need all that,” he waved his hand in the direction of the city, “we just need this…” He held out his hand to her, his other arm still around Bethany’s shoulders.

Sarah stared at the hand, trembling. “What about our commitments?”

“Nothing is signed yet. And who cares about a few nameless, faceless contacts we’ll never speak to again?” Brent urged. “Sarah…let’s be happy together…right here.”

Bethany clung to her father, pleading silently.

Sarah closed her eyes and let out a hard sigh. She took a hesitant step forward then flung herself into Brent’s arms. The threesome held onto each other, Jo standing off to one side, her hands clutched together in a desperate prayer.

“Is that a yes?” Brent asked brokenly.

“Yes.” Sarah nodded. “We’re staying.” She looked down at Bethany. “We’re staying. You don’t have to leave Aunt Jo.”

Bethany smiled at Jo then flung her arms around her mum, holding her tight.

“I love Aunt Jo…but I love you too, mum.”

My cheeks were sodden and my throat was tight as I watched the scene unfold before me. I put my hand over my mouth as if they could possibly hear my sobs. I turned to Jet, my jaw trembling with emotion. He gazed back at me warmly.

“I’m not the only one who could do with some kinder memories.” He offered gently.

I laughed softly then heard footsteps echoing down a long ramp.

We turned to see a fourteen year old Jet in a red and black uniform, face dotted with adolescent acne and his hair still bearing signs of a fresh cut.

“Jet!” He looked over his shoulder as a classmate jogged towards him. “You forgot to grab your folder.”

“Oh, right. Thanks.” He tucked it into his bag. “What’s in it?”

“I dunno. Student portal stuff, your log in code for the library computer…you gonna get a locker?”

Jet shrugged. “Lots of textbooks are electronic now. Might just fork out for a tablet.”

“You should check out your diagnosis funding. Might be able to pick one up with that. Hey…your girlfriend’s here.”

“Huh?” Jet looked up and saw eleven year old Bethany outside the gate, still in her primary school green uniform.

“Man, I wish I had a cutie like that waiting for me.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Yeah, yeah, see you tomorrow!”

Jet rolled his eyes and slid out the gate. Eleven year old Bethany turned to him with her usual, warm, welcoming smile.

“Hey there highschooler! How was your first day?”

“Uh…pretty good. What are you doing here?”

She shrugged. “High school finishes later than primary so I thought I would walk over and meet you…and we could walk home together. Unless…you’re too cool for me now?”

Jet snorted. “When have I ever been cool?”

“Oh I didn’t say you were.” Bethany laughed. “Mum said I might be cramping your high school style…you know, a primary school kid hanging around a teenager…”

“I don’t mind.”

“You sure?” She looked at him firmly. “You’re not just saying that? I won’t come back again tomorrow if you want to walk home on your own. It’s okay…”

Fourteen year old Jet smiled. “Well…okay. Don’t come back tomorrow to walk me home.”

Bethany blushed in dismay but nodded. “Okay…”

“How about I walk you home?”

“Huh?”

“School finishes early on Tuesdays…I could walk to the primary school just as you finish and walk you home?” Jet shrugged. “You know…if…if you want.”

“I’d love it!” Eleven year old Bethany cried, looping her arm through his. “I was worried you wouldn’t want me around anymore…”

“I’ve changed schools, not brains!”

“Teenage boys can be a bit fickle…” Bethany quoted.

“Yeah well, I was born an old man.”

“Shut up.”

“You shut up…”

I watched my younger self and teenage Jet disappear into the fringe of darkness then turned to the Jet whose hand I held and smiled. He returned it then frowned, twisted slightly as a new scene appeared behind us.

It was Christmas at ‘House of Figs’. The café was adorned with many evergreen boughs, the tables with mini Christmas trees, a wreath on the door and a large tree in the bay window, blinking with hundreds of lights and dozens of handmade baubles. The single long table was set for a grand meal and the kitchen wafted out smells of roast lamb, pork, beef and a large bowl of prawns. Jo worked tirelessly as fourteen year old Bethany scampered back and forth, setting the table and taking food over to it.

“Merry Christmas!” Sarah called from the front door, carrying a large platter with a pavlova of epic proportions resting on it. Brent followed her, several bags in his hands filled with presents.

“Merry Christmas!” Jo cried in returned, coming out from behind the counter to hug her sister. “Sarah, that looks amazing!”

“Any room in the fridge?”

They laughed as they took it into the café’s walk in fridge.

“There are advantages to living in a café.” Jo laughed.

“Sweetheart, help an old man out.” Brent moaned. “I think your mother bought enough gifts for everyone on the block!”

Fourteen year old Bethany giggled and helped her father stash the gifts beneath the tree.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Jo said as she came out of the fridge, “it was an impulse…I’m not entirely sure they’ll come.”

“Of course not.” Sarah insisted.

“Mind what?” Brent looked up.

“Inviting Gary Dunn and his grandson, Jet, to Christmas lunch.”

“I wasn’t sure if it was too soon after Debbie’s passing.” Jo explained quietly. “I didn’t want to be insensitive but if it was down to Gary, I suspect Christmas lunch would be spam on toast.”

“Don’t knock spam on toast.” Brent argued.

“Gross, dad!” Bethany moaned then brightened. “Hey, let’s do presents!”

Wrapping paper adorned with Christmas trees, baubles and writing in silver foiled calligraphy was scattered over the ground as the gifts were distributed. There were many exclamations of delight and wonder at the thoughtfulness of the gifts. They were only four in number but with the Christmas carols playing in the background and all their laughter, it was any wonder they heard the knock at the door.

“Come in!” Jo exclaimed, leaping up as Gary, who looked more shadowed and bent than ever before, shuffled in, sixteen year old Jet following behind. “I’m so glad you could come!”

“It was kind of you to invite us.” Gary said sincerely although his voice wavered as if he was close to tears. “I brought you some of my marmalade from the blood oranges. It’s not much of a gift…”

“Don’t be silly!” Jo took one of the jars out and looked at it. “Made this year…oh…Gary…”

“Some of the last jars she made.” Gary chuckled. “Oh no, I won’t hear of you giving them back. Debbie loved you to bits. It’s my pleasure to share.” Jo held the jar to her chest and kissed his cheek. “Well, you all look very jolly here.”

“Come on it and have a seat. Jo’s made enough food for a thousand!”

“Hi Jet.” Bethany greeted. “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas.” Jet cleared his throat. “I…got you something.” He thrust the parcel towards her. Bethany grasped his other hand instead.

“I got you something too!” She drew him over to the Christmas tree, digging beneath it. “Now…where did it…ah ha! Found it!”

She pulled out the oblong parcel and presented it to him. They both sat in the highbacked chairs that had been moved out of the way slightly to make room for the tree which could be seen from the road.

“May I?” Bethany asked, poised to start tearing the paper.

“How else are you gonna find out what it is?” Jet asked. “X-Ray vision?” She laughed and tore at the paper. “I’m not much good at guessing gifts…but apparently you’re good at wish lists so…”

“Dune!” Bethany crowed. “Oh and it’s the trilogy! That’s brilliant!” She opened the cover. “To Bethany, thanks for getting me through just about everything…aww…”

“Knock it off.” Jet said bashfully. “Is it my turn?”

“Yep,” Bethany flicked through the pages, breathing in the scent of new paper, “and you’ll find, it’s kind of appropriate.”

Jet removed the paper more sedately until he revealed a book. He stared at it, horror in his eyes.

“Uh…Dune?”

“Yep!”

His forehead began to bead with sweat and his breathing sharpened and shallowed. “Uh…Bethany…I don’t…I can’t…too many words. There’s too many…”

“Hey, Jet?” Bethany leaned down and caught his eye. “I know you, remember?” He licked his lips and swallowed. She smiled at him then pointed. “What does it say below the title?”

Jet cleared his throat and breathed out until he calmed, his eyes glancing over the book’s cover. “Graphic…novel?”

“It’s full of pictures!” Bethany exclaimed and opened the cover to reveal page after page of colour pictures with little speech bubbles for when the characters talk. “It’s a comic book, but of a classic!”

“I…I like comics…”

“I know.” Bethany grasped his hand and squeezed it. “Some of it is going to be lost in translation cause, you know,” she brandished the hefty volume in her hands, “it’s a big book…but the pictures take out a lot of the guesswork. I know you struggle with the imagination side of things…this helps with that and you still get a feel for the story.” She leaned back, watching Jet’s eyes grazing the pictures, his panic subsiding rapidly. “And do you know what? They’re doing this with a lot of books. Imagine that! You and I can read the same things and talk about it and, if one day, you’d like to know more…you can read the text only original. And if not…”

“I’ll still know what it is you’re talking about.” Jet said, brightening. “I…I can read this! Thank you!”

Bethany smiled as he turned the page, his eyes engrossed in the pictures, taking in the imagery which had so intimidated him in text form. He sank into his chair, hooking one of his long legs up, his cheek resting on his hand. Bethany giggled softly, opened the cover of her book and began to read.

“Is that…real?” Jet turned to me. “Do they really do that with books?”

“Yeah, they do. There’s lots of different ways to tell stories.” I smiled. “We could look into it, you know, when we get home.”

“Yeah…I’d like that.”

“Bethany! Jet’s here!”

We looked up, the scene still in ‘House of Figs’ but the Christmas décor faded away. Jet stood nervously as the bottom of the stairs, dressed in a black suit. He went to fiddle with his bowtie.

“You’ll crumple it.” Gary whispered.

“Sorry.” He swallowed.

“You look very handsome.” Jo insisted. “Bethany?”

“She’s just coming.” Sarah appeared at the top of the stairs. “Wardrobe malfunction. We’re all sorted now. Brent, is your phone ready?”

“Yep.” Brent held his phone up, the red light indicating that it was recording flashing. “Rapunzel, Rapunzel!”

“No one’s climbing up my hair!”

Bethany appeared at the top of the stairs, coming down with a typical sixteen year old’s nervous anticipation upon entering the room in a fine dress. It was white at the top, sinking down into a dark grey at the bottom, the hem flowing with multiple layers, showing off her black, strappy heels. She wore a black, sheer poncho that was longer at the back and it covered her bare arms as the dress was sleeveless. Her hair was styled in black curls like a halo around her face.

She smiled shyly yet delightfully then caught sight of Jet’s face. He was staring at her with his jaw slack.

“Hey Jet,” she turned around, “how do I look?”

“Uh…”

“Uh?”

“Never mind his lack of words…just look at his expression.” Sarah said, following her daughter down the stairs.

“My little girl…”

“Dad.” Bethany laughed.

“Come on, a couple of quick photos before your ride arrives.”

Brent and Jo juggled the photo taking between them until there were dozens of pictures on each phone. Gary glanced out the front window.

“Your ride is here.” He announced. “Have a good time, you two. Keep an eye on him, won’t you?”

“Pops…” Jet groaned.

“I promise.” Bethany laughed then hugged her mum as Brent whispered something to Jet. “We’d better go!”

Jet offered her his arm and she took it, heading out the door. Bethany waved happily, clutching at her skirt to keep from tripping on it.

“What did my dad say?” She whispered.

“Take care of her or I’ll break your arm.”

“How embarrassing!”

“He’s just looking out for you.” Jet insisted. “I mean…he is letting you out on a d…”

Bethany turned to him. “You were going to say ‘date’, weren’t you?”

“No…yes…” Jet shrugged. “Maybe…” He sighed. “Look…I know you said yes to going with me to my year twelve formal just so I wouldn’t go alone. It’s the only reason your dad is letting you out with me too.”

“Seriously? That’s why you think I’m going?” Bethany looked at him.

“Well…isn’t it?” Jet turned to her on the path leading to the gate. “I didn’t even ask you. Pops did cause he’s sure I can’t do it on my own…”

“He’s just trying to look after you the way your nan did.” Bethany said gently. “Besides, I would have said yes if you had asked me.”

“Really?” Jet looked at her, surprised. “You mean…yes to the formal…but not a date.”

“Is a formal really a date?” Bethany asked pointedly. “I like being with you, Jet. I really do. But if we’re ever going to be more than…this,” she gestured between them, “I want it to be because you want to.”

Jet lowered his head, his shoulders bowed. “I don’t…want to risk losing you…as a friend. You’ve been such a lifeline to me…”

“You’ve also been a good friend to me, too.” Bethany tilted his chin up. “Look…why don’t we not go on a date together to your year twelve high school formal?”

Jet’s hazel eyes sparkled and he smiled. “Yeah…let’s do that.” He opened the gate and led her out to where the shiny black car was waiting to take them to the formal. “Bethany?”

“Mmm?”

“I’m here for you too, you know? If you ever need a lifeline…”

“I know.”

Jet’s fingers firmed on mine. I looked down and saw our hands clutched firmly together. I smiled and looked up at his face. We seemed to be on the brink of saying something…anything, when a cool breeze struck us from behind and we turned again to a sheltered scene on a brisk afternoon. The leaves on the trees rustled, their shadows dancing across the well maintained lawn, the bodies of the people gathered wearing mostly black…and the gravestones that were scattered throughout the graveyard.

“No…” I breathed. “No, no, no…”

Dug into the earth was a rectangular hole with a cross at the head. A man holding a Bible spoke quietly, his words gently comforting as the attendees wept.

“Jet…no…please…I can’t do this!” I gasped. “Not again!”

“…we take this opportunity to farewell the beloved wife of Brent and mother of Bethany, sister of Johanne, our friend…Sarah St James…”

Twenty year old Bethany turned to her father and wept into his shoulder. His own expression was broken with grief as he looked at the coffin within the grave.

“Sarah…we had it good…I’ll never forget…Thank you.” He stammered out tremulously, gently dropping a rose into the grave. “Sweetheart…”

Bethany sobbed, sniffed hard and took a breath, dropping her rose as well. Tears trickled down her face, dripping from her chin as the attendees of the funeral moved around the grave. She was hugged and patted gently on the shoulder but her gaze didn’t move from the grave.

“Bethany,” Jo embraced her, “if you need anything,” she looked at Brent, “anything at all…a meal…somewhere to sit and cry…”

“Thanks, Jo.” Brent rasped and nodded. “Thank you for hosting the wake…”

“For Sarah…”

“Do you need help?”

“I have some new staff for the café…they’re already there.” Jo smiled through her tears then turned and walked away.

Bethany couldn’t take her eyes off the grave. That her mother was there, never to smile or laugh again…her heart…it was lost in a dark place.

A pair of black shoes appeared on the other side of the grave at the very edge of Bethany’s vision. She looked up, her eyes reaching Jet’s face from across the grave. She gave a little sob as he walked around the grave, never taking his eyes off her. When he was just three feet away she launched herself at him, her arms around his neck, sobbing into his black jacket.

“It’s not fair…” She wept. “It’s just not fair…”

“I know…I’m so sorry, Bethany.” His arms embraced her without reserve and he made no attempt to let go. “I’m here for you. No matter what happens.”

As the scene began to fade, I dashed forward, my heart aching anew at the loss of my mother. I could see the grave disappearing, mine and Jet’s younger selves the only things that remained as everything else fell away.

“Wait…” I breathed, reaching out…then realised I had let go. “Jet?” I spun around and saw him from a distance. He looked at me kindly. “Jet!”

“It’s alright, Bethany.” He said softly. “Time to wake up…”

“…alright? Faelan?”

“…sleeping…time…”

“Sleeping?”

“Query, should we move them?”

“I sense we should not.”

“Wait…she’s waking up. Bethany…can you hear me?”

I opened my eyes, feeling as though my body had been hit by a truck. All I could see were the tiles that paved the floor of the Observatory…and just out of reach, I saw Jet’s body. My fingers twitched, trying to regain their grasp upon his outstretched hand. But before I could he gave a groan and rolled over, his face turning towards me. His eyes opened, hazel pupils meeting mine.

I held my breath.

He smiled.

I breathed out deeply, the sigh emptying the last will power I had…

…and I slept.