Dr. Zaraki
October 23, 2035
18:36 EST
Lyconotu Mansion
Pigeon Forge, TN
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Walking toward the kitchen, I made my way out the side door that led to the garage. Star’s voice echoed faintly in my mind, almost like the whisper of a soul reaching out. It was so soft, so distant, that I shook my head. Impossible. There was no way she’d ended up there. She wasn’t strong enough to open a rift—not yet. She had to be somewhere on the property, taking a breather from everything that had happened today. And if, by some improbable twist, she had stumbled into the Soul Realm, my magic would have told me.
Stepping into the garage, I scanned the space. The olive drab motorcycle sat exactly where we’d left it the night before, its paint dull under the garage’s overhead lights. The room was empty, silent. Satisfied, I flicked off the lights and turned to leave—only to walk straight into Cayro.
The concern etched into his face mirrored the turmoil in his voice. “I can’t seem to find her,” he said, the words tumbling out frantically.
“Cayro, she’s somewhere nearby. Scuzball would have alerted us if something had happened to her,” I replied, keeping my tone calm.
For all his faults, the AI wouldn’t let anything happen to Star or Cayro. They were his lifeline, his priority. Whatever else I could say about him, I trusted that unwavering devotion.
“I already asked Scuzball to track her,” Cayro shot back. “He can’t. It’s almost like she just vanished. He said her last known location was our bedroom, but she’s not there. The windows were locked, and there’s no sign of anyone breaking in.”
“Cayro,” I began, intending to reassure him, but he cut me off.
“I can’t let anyone take her again, sir!” His voice cracked with anger and desperation. “I won’t let anyone touch her like that again!”
His words hung heavy between us, pulling a sigh from my chest. I opened my mouth to calm him, but the pulse hit before I could speak. Star’s voice echoed faintly again, laced with sadness and pain. It wasn’t just an auditory sensation—I could feel it. Narrowing my eyes, I turned toward the house, toward the source of the energy.
“Cayro,” I said, my tone sharpening, “you said Scuzball can’t link with her, right?”
“That’s correct,” he replied, his brows furrowing as he caught the shift in my demeanor.
“What about your mate bond?” I asked, watching him closely. “Can you feel her through that?”
His expression shifted instantly, realization dawning. He shut his eyes, his jaw tightening as he concentrated. For a long moment, he stood silent, and then his eyes opened again, the deep worry etched back into his face.
“She’s not there,” he said, his voice heavy. “It’s like…” He paused, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “It’s like her side of the bond is there, but it’s… not. I can’t quite explain it.”
I let out a groan, the sound low and tired. I knew that feeling. I’d felt it before, and it left no room for doubt. “Cayro,” I said, my voice steady, “I know exactly where she is.”
His brows shot up, his concern sharpening into alarm. “Where?”
“She’s where you can’t physically access,” I said carefully.
“Why can’t I go?” he demanded, his voice rising.
“Because you’re not dead,” I growled, the words harsher than I intended.
Cayro froze, his eyes widening in shock. The anger bled from his stance, replaced by an uneasy realization. “Cayro,” I said more softly, “just go back inside. I’ll get her.”
This time, he didn’t argue. He turned toward the house, leaving without another word. I watched until the door clicked shut behind him before stepping back into the garage and locking the door behind me.
Shifting into my Draconian form, I drew the power from within me, feeling it surge to the surface with familiar intensity. Raising my index talon, I brought it down in a clean, slicing motion. The air before me shimmered, fracturing like glass before giving way to a tear in the fabric of reality. The other side glowed with the pinkish-purple hue of the Soul Realm, its energy humming faintly as it beckoned me forward.
Stepping through, I turned back and used my magic to stitch the rift closed. The edges of the tear wove together like threads in a tapestry, sealing with a soft, pulsing glow before disappearing entirely. The process always reminded me of closing a wound—a delicate, precise act, though this one came without the blood. With the rift healed, I phased through the garage door, my senses immediately sharpening as I scanned the area for wandering souls.
Souls were tricky things, never fully predictable. Some were cooperative, drawn to the promise of peace, while others clung to their stubbornness like a badge of honor. And then there were the tricksters—the ones who delighted in chaos for chaos’s sake. Thankfully, I had taken the time to cleanse the area when I arrived at the Lyconotu Mansion. The last thing I wanted was to deal with an unruly spirit pestering Star. She wouldn’t yet know how to handle them. Now, standing here, I was grateful I had.
Seeing no signs of any lingering souls, I phased through the side door leading into the kitchen. The quiet hum of the Soul Realm followed me like a shadow. The kitchen was still, and neither Star nor any stray spirits were in sight. Pushing forward, I followed the faint pull of energy I’d felt earlier, moving toward the living room where I’d first heard her.
Mr. and Mrs. Bracton sat watching TV, their relaxed demeanor a stark contrast to Lyra, who sulked nearby. She looked like someone who had recently been scolded, which didn’t surprise me. I’d heard about her earlier escapade and the subsequent reprimand—it had likely been as well-deserved as it was overdue.
I scanned the room once more but found no sign of Star. Following my gut, I moved methodically through the downstairs rooms, but they were empty. Nor were there any signs of Cayro. The pull of her energy grew stronger, guiding me upward. I climbed the stairs, moving with purpose, and made a beeline for Star and Cayro’s room.
That’s where I found them.
Cayro sat on the edge of the bed, his face a canvas of worry. And Star—my brilliant, fiery Star—knelt in front of him, her mouth moving as she tried desperately to speak to him, to get him to notice her. I already knew it was futile. No one could hear her—not in this realm. I would know. I had been trapped here myself for over thirty years.
For a moment, I stood in silence, watching her—not out of cruelty or curiosity, but sheer awe. Her full Draconian form was on display, and it was breathtaking. Her horns swept back, framing her regal features with an elegance that spoke of her growing power. Her black scales shimmered in the Soul Realm’s light, their brilliance a testament to her strength. And her fiery soul—it blazed visibly along her body, a vivid, glowing reminder of her unstoppable spirit. She was a miniature version of me, with all the ferocity of her mother.
What knelt before me was no mere child. This was a queen coming into her own.
The world may not be ready for her, but it didn’t matter. There was no doubt in my mind that she would bend the world to her will if she had to.
Finally stepping forward, I placed my hand gently on her shoulder. The moment my touch registered, she spun around, a growl tearing from her throat. Her claws were poised to attack, her eyes blazing with untamed fury.
The instant she recognized me, she moved faster than I could track. Her arms wrapped tightly around my neck, and her legs latched around my waist. Massive, alligator tears streamed down her face as she sobbed and hiccupped, the tension in her body melting as she clung to me.
“It’s okay, Star. I’m here,” I cooed softly, rubbing her back in soothing circles.
“I tried calling you,” she hiccupped, her voice trembling with frustration and relief.
“I know. I heard you,” I replied gently, keeping my hand steady on her back.
“Why didn’t you answer me?” she whined, the words breaking on a fresh wave of tears.
“Because I didn’t think it was possible for you to stumble into this realm,” I said, my voice still calm as I continued to rub her back.
She finally calmed enough to stop crying, her breathing steadying as the tension ebbed from her body. Leaning back just enough to meet my gaze, her sharp features and gleaming teeth caught the pinkish-purple light of the Soul Realm. Her voice wavered as she spoke.
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“Am I dead?”
I let out a low chuckle, shaking my head as I set her back on her feet. “No, honey. You’re not dead.”
“Then where are we?” she asked shakily, her eyes scanning the strange, ethereal glow surrounding us.
Rather than answer outright, I tilted my head and posed the question back at her. “Where do you think we are?”
Her eyes narrowed as a familiar flicker of frustration sparked in them. “If I knew, I wouldn’t have asked,” she grumbled, her fiery temper beginning to surface.
I smirked faintly. There was her spirit. “I could give you all the answers, sweetheart,” I replied calmly, “but then you wouldn’t learn. Give me one good, educated guess. If you don’t get it right, I’ll tell you.”
She huffed, glancing around again before shrugging half-heartedly. “The afterlife.”
“Close,” I said with a warm smile. “But not quite. We’re in the Soul Realm—a plane of existence that lies between the living and the spiritual.”
“The Soul Realm?” she repeated, her brows furrowing as confusion clouded her expression.
“Yes,” I answered simply.
“Well, how the hell did I get here?” she asked, her voice growing impatient.
At that moment, Cayro stood and walked out of the room. Without hesitation, Star began to follow him, but I gently caught her arm, stopping her mid-step.
“He’ll be fine,” I said calmly. “He knows I’m looking for you.”
She glanced back at me, her expression heavy with worry. “But—”
“I get it,” I interrupted softly. “You want to reassure him. But since you’re here, and neither of us knows how you managed to cross between realms, I need to teach you how to get out if this happens again.”
She sighed, a deep, reluctant sound, and let her arm fall. “Fair enough,” she grumbled.
Without another word, I silently led her out of the room and guided her to mine. As we approached the door, I reached down and twisted the handle, pushing it open with a quiet creak. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the Soul Realm until I stepped inside and flicked on the light. The ethereal hue dimmed almost entirely, reduced to a faint trace in the air.
Star followed me in, her expression still tinged with confusion as she looked around. I closed the door with a soft click and gestured to one of the chairs near the center of the room. “Take a seat,” I said simply.
She sat, her gaze wandering across the space as I moved about. I’d brought several personal, antique effects with me—just enough to make the room feel like mine, even within the grandeur of the Lyconotu Mansion. Luxury without familiarity was hollow, after all.
In the corner, my orrery stood on a dark mahogany stand, its brass gears ticking softly as the planets rotated in perfect harmony. Walking over, I wound it up out of habit, the rhythmic ticking grounding me. It was a ritual, a reminder that even chaos moved to an unseen rhythm—if you knew where to look.
Nearby, on the desk, rested my cipher machine, a piece of antique engineering I’d restored myself. Its brass dials gleamed faintly, the etchings on their surfaces centuries old and precise. I didn’t expect to need it here, but its presence brought comfort. Beside it, my journals were stacked neatly—leather-bound and worn from years of meticulous notes, half of which only I could decipher.
I paused by the orrery, listening to its faint hum as Star’s gaze followed my movements. She didn’t say anything, but I could feel her questions hanging in the air, as if she were trying to piece together the strange interplay of this realm, my room, and my connection to both.
A crystal, encased in glass on the bedside table, pulsed faintly with a soft, soothing light—a tangible link to the Soul Realm. I didn’t need it out, but its presence was calming, a reminder of the delicate threads binding life, death, and everything in between.
Nearby, my tea station sat on a low table, an intricate brass contraption that blended antique charm with precise functionality. Its steam-driven boiler hummed softly, and the lion motifs etched along its surface gleamed faintly in the room’s light. I’d salvaged it from a collapsing estate nearly a century ago, drawn more to its beauty than its purpose. But it had proven as reliable as it was elegant, the rhythmic hiss of steam and the warmth of freshly brewed tea grounding me in moments like these.
Even here, away from my true sanctuary, the pieces I’d brought along brought me a sense of order and control. The world outside was vast, unpredictable, but within these four walls, everything was deliberate—every tick of a gear, every hiss of steam, a testament to careful precision.
Star sat quietly, her gaze following my movements as I moved about the room, tending to the objects that waited patiently for my attention. Finally, I walked to the tea station and poured two cups of hot water, placing a tea bag into each. Carrying the cups to the chairs, I offered one to her with a steady hand. She gingerly took it, cradling it as if afraid it might shatter. Taking my seat opposite her, I settled in with my own cup.
“Father?” she began tentatively, then paused.
“Hmm?” I hummed, taking a small sip of tea and letting its warmth spread through me.
“How are you able to interact with all of your possessions,” she asked, her curiosity cutting through her hesitation, “when it seems like we can’t interact with the rest of the house?”
I smiled faintly, appreciating her sharpness. “That is an excellent question. Do you remember how I mentioned that Director Staroko saved the old motorcycle you and Cayro rebuilt?”
“Yes,” she said, her brow furrowing slightly.
“Well, back in 1949, at the end of World War II, I was trapped in the Soul Realm—unable to escape—for over thirty years.” I paused, settling deeper into my seat. “It was not a pleasant experience, to say the least.”
Her eyes widened slightly, but she remained silent, sipping her tea as I continued.
“When I finally managed to figure out how to escape this realm, I realized I needed to create anchors between the two planes. The items you see here—my tea station, the crystal, my orrery—are those anchors. They prevent me from becoming trapped in either realm again.”
Star took another sip of tea, savoring it thoughtfully before asking her next question. “You mentioned that the Soul Realm was an in-between realm of the Physical and Spiritual planes?”
“That’s correct,” I said, nodding. “The Soul Realm acts as a conduit for souls. It’s the intermediate realm between the Physical Realm and what I call the Celestial Realm—or, as some might say, the spiritual plane. That’s the realm where beings such as God reside, though I simply know them as the stars.”
She tilted her head, her bluntness cutting through the air. “I thought you didn’t believe in God?”
“That’s not what I said,” I corrected gently. “I said that I don’t put much stock in religion. I absolutely believe in higher beings. I’d be a walking contradiction if I didn’t, considering they were the ones who created me.”
Her eyes widened briefly before she nodded, looking a little sheepish. “I’m sorry. I misunderstood what you said.”
“That’s alright,” I replied easily. “Now, let me ask you something.” I set my teacup down gently, watching her reaction. “Have you started hearing voices? Anyone calling out to you?”
Her eyes narrowed as if I’d just sprouted a second set of horns. “No,” she said slowly, her tone laced with suspicion.
“Hmm,” I murmured, making a mental note. “So, the stars haven’t started speaking to you yet.”
“The stars?” she repeated, incredulous. “Why would they talk to me?”
I raised an eyebrow, giving her a knowing look. “You are my daughter. It would make sense if they did.”
“Point to you,” she conceded, taking another sip of tea.
I let out a soft chuckle, setting my cup down on the small table between us. “So, now the question remains: how did you manage to slip into the Soul Realm? Do you remember what you were doing when it happened?”
“I was sleeping…” she replied bluntly, her tone carrying a touch of irritation.
“Hmm,” I murmured thoughtfully. “That’s… not particularly helpful.” The words were more for myself than her, though her sharp glare suggested she thought otherwise.
“Dad,” she growled, her tone edging into frustration. “If I had any idea how this happened, I would have already told you.”
“Sorry, honey,” I said gently, raising a hand in apology. “I wasn’t speaking to you directly. Just thinking out loud.”
“Oh,” she replied, her expression softening slightly.
I stood, picking up both cups and carrying them back to the tea station. The rhythmic hiss of the boiler filled the silence as Star watched me return to the sitting area.
“Since we can’t determine how this happened,” I said, settling into a new rhythm, “I can at least show you how to get back. That’s something you need to know.”
I gestured for her to stand in the center of the room with me. She hesitated for a moment but then rose to her feet, stepping into place with a faint glimmer of curiosity mixed with apprehension. I lifted my index talon and drew it downward in a clean, deliberate line. This time, I didn’t summon the magic to open a tear. Instead, I moved slowly, emphasizing the precision and intent behind the motion.
“Unlike the magical fire you summoned earlier today,” I began patiently, “this requires precision and a delicate hand. A tear between realms isn’t opened with brute strength. It requires focus—your magic must be as sharp and refined as a razor blade.”
She mimicked my movement, her talon glowing faint amethyst as it cut through the air. Sparks flickered and danced, like flint striking stone, but no rift appeared. I nodded to myself. As expected, this wasn’t a skill that came easily.
The look of disappointment that crossed her face was evident as she tried again. This time, I could see her full focus honing in on the task. Her talon burned brighter, the amethyst glow more intense, as she sliced downward in a sweeping motion. Sparks flared to life, more vibrant this time, but still, no tear emerged. Her shoulders sagged slightly, and I could see the weariness settling over her like a weight.
“Try one more time,” I encouraged, my tone steady.
On her third attempt, I watched as her magic faltered halfway through the motion. With a faint pop, the energy dried out entirely. She let out a frustrated huff, stepping back with a grumble before plopping down into her chair. Her fiery gaze burned holes into the spot where she’d been trying to open the tear.
I walked over and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “It’s alright. This takes practice,” I said gently. “You’re still new to using your magic. You haven’t built up a strong reserve yet.”
She huffed again, her exhaustion clear, and sank further into her seat.
“We’ll work on it,” I continued. “In the meantime, if you find yourself trapped in the Soul Realm again, come straight to my room. With the anchors I’ve set, this space acts as a thin veil between the realms. Even if you can’t open a tear, I’ll be able to find you and help you get out.”
With that, I raised my talon again and drew a clean line in the air. This time, the rift flared to life, the shimmering pinkish-purple hue casting a faint glow over the room. I gently helped Star to her feet, guiding her toward the tear. Together, we stepped through, and as soon as we returned to the Physical Realm, the faint glow of the Soul Realm vanished entirely.
Turning to face the rift, I closed it with a precise gesture, the fabric of reality stitching itself together seamlessly. Without a word, I led Star out of my room and down the stairs. The hum of voices greeted us before we even reached the bottom. Everyone was waiting for our return.
Cayro was the first to rise, worry written across his face as he immediately began peppering Star with questions. She held up a hand, silencing him mid-sentence, before turning her gaze to Lyra.
“Can you grab me a Red Bull?” she asked, her tone matter-of-fact.
Lyra blinked but didn’t hesitate, leaping to her feet and darting toward the kitchen.
For the next hour and a half, Star recounted everything she’d experienced. Her voice wavered at times, but the strength in her tone grew as she spoke. I answered a handful of questions when prompted, but mostly, I sat and watched.
The house buzzed with energy, the tension from earlier fading into the warm comfort of shared company. As the others talked and laughed, or focused on whatever show was playing on the TV, I allowed myself a quiet moment of reflection. Star had taken her first steps into a much larger understanding of herself—and the world she was growing into. And while the road ahead would be challenging, I had no doubt she would meet it with the same fire and resilience that had always burned within her.