It had been years since he last went down this road. He might have been seven or eight at the time but he remembered loving every second that led him to his grandma's house. It was a shabby looking beach house, worn down by the years and the harsh winds of the ocean it was overlooking. No one had lived there for more than ten years now, so Caleb wasn't surprised by how destroyed it looked but his heart still sank in his chest.

"Come on mom, you could have done something about it..." He whispered to himself.

Stopping a few meters before entering the house, he pulled out the letter he had received the week before in the mail. He read it again, even though he knew exactly what was written on it.

"Meet me at the Keep, the road has been opened."

The Keep. That's how his grandmother used to call her place when he was a kid. Old memories he had kept locked away suddenly washed over him. Her wry smile, the light that shone behind her heavy-looking glasses, the way she ruffled his hair and the stories she used to tell him as they were watching over the ocean.

He also remembered how painful her disapperance had been for him and his whole family. The only thing they found in her house was an old notebook with his name on it. Shaking his head, he focused his attention on the letter itself. Receiving a letter in this day and age was already quite an oddity, no one he knew around even used them anymore. He did think that, maybe, his grandmother was the one who wrote him but a quick glance at her notebook was enough for him to see the handwriting was different. She didn't have any extended family or friends, or at least she never mentioned any. So Caleb was almost sure he was one of the only people who should know what " The Keep" was referring to. But what about that road?

Asking himself the same questions over and over again wasn't getting him anywhere. He took a deep breath and, after more than fifteen years, he stepped inside The Keep.

The only light shining through the house's cracks was coming from the sunlight. Everything around the entrance was covered by dust and the air itself was a little bit stale. Still, it was kind of a miracle the place was still in one piece. Caleb did try to turn on the light but nothing happened. He took out his phone and turned on the flashlight.

The first thing he saw was an old picture on the wall. His grandparents were smiling at him, looking young and hopeful in the middle of a park. Meryl and Joseph. The picture must have been taken right before his grandpa was drafted for Vietnam. They didn't even know she was pregnant at the time.

Turning around, Caleb entered the living room and shone his light on the beat-up CRT Tv in front of the old brown couch.

He used to spend hours playing on his gamecube there, trying to teach his grandma how to play Super Monkey Ball while waiting for his parents. She was terrible at video games but she seemed to enjoy watching him play, especially when he was playing Wind Waker. Her eyes were almost sparkling then.

The shadow of a smile grew on Caleb's face. How long had it been since he last recalled those memories?

He slowly went back in the hallway and opened the door of the sunlit kitchen. The outside blinds had fallen a long time ago so Caleb could fully appreciate the sight of the ocean-facing room. When the weather outside was too cold for her, that's where his grandma sat to watch the ocean. There was a big rocking chair smack dab in the middle of the kitchen because that's where she spent most of her time when she was inside. The table was still full of her cracked china, trinkets and odd objects that she used to make while he was sitting on her lap when he was really young. The dust made them look even older than what they must have been.

Suddenly, Caleb's eyes went wide and he grabbed a deformed blue bowl on the table. He remembered making that bowl with her. He also remembered her telling him that he should probably stick to playing the gamecube with her wry smile.

Stolen novel; please report.

Teary-eyed, Caleb blew on the bowl, revealing an old inscription clumsily carved into it.

"Doromea…"

The stories came flooding in. Long ago, on a sea long forgotten by Man, was an island called Doromea. It was a place of magic and wonders, full of history and mystery. Anyone could come to the island as long as they were worthy and as long as they showed a will to learn.

A tear rolled down Caleb's eye. Doromea. Meryl used to tell him about that place. She spoke about the legends which were told among the masses, about the beauty of the amazing sights and the magic surrounding every aspect of living on Doromea. The way she spoke about it always made him feel like she actually saw the place and he remembered his grandma always claiming that she was born there.

He used to be absolutely fascinated by it and always dreamt of exploring its every nook and crannies like Indiana Jones. When he grew up, he heard about other mythical places, like Atlantis, Mu or El Dorado but there had always been a special place in his heart for Doromea.

All of a sudden, the light grew dim inside the kitchen and the magic was gone. He was only holding a barely functional bowl. Clouds had started to gather above the house and no light was shining through. He put down the bowl and got out of the kitchen.

There were three bedrooms and a bathroom on the first floor. Caleb slowly went up each creaking step, and every last one of them seemed to awaken a new memory of the Keep. Sneaking downstairs to try and play a little more, feeling somebody taking him upstairs when he fell asleep on the couch, running down those same stairs when his grandma called him for a stroll on the beach.

Everything felt so vivid, like he had just lived those moments. He could almost hear Meryl humming her lullaby from her bedroom. Almost uncounsciously, he arrived in front of Meryl's door and stood there, frozen. He never went back into that room once his grandma was gone. No one did. His mother, Viviane, tried her very best to act as if she had never existed. Meryl's name was almost never spoken at home and when it was evoked, Viviane would just change the subject, as if the very idea of her was forbidden.

Caleb audibly gulped. All the good feelings he felt on the way here had disappeared and the only thing left was a big ball of anxiety in the middle of his stomach and a terrible feeling of dread. After a few seconds, he finally mustered enough courage to grab the door handle. But he still couldn't turn it. He let go of it and took a step back while looking at his hand.

Why was he so scared? What did he think he would find behind this door? Still looking at his hand, Caleb suddenly noticed something weird. His hand was clean. Everything else he had touched in the house was completely full of dust but not the handle of Meryl's bedroom.

Caleb's mind started racing. Was he too suspicious? Was he overthinking? Maybe he had just breathed on it? He had a bad habit of jumping to conclusions too fast but he also had quite the good instinct. Something was…off. But before letting fear completely take him over, he decided to act. He took a few step back before he kicked the door down with all of his strenght. The old worn-out door was bursted open and Caleb rapidly stumbled forward and fell on the hard wood floor. He immediatly started to cough, having inhaled enough sawdust to make Pinocchio jealous, and barely managed to open his eyes to try and see where he was.

He was greeted by the barrel of a weird looking gun pointed right at his face.

"What…Cough.. the f-"

"Who are you?" a womanly voice suddenly screamed.

"Who am I? Cough…cough… you're…you're the one inside my grandma's room! Who are you?"

"Your…grandmother?"

The gun owner seemed to calm down and put her weapon down. Caleb finally managed to breath properly and was able to look at the intruder. She was a woman, looking around thirty years old and very visibly wounded, as she was bleeding on Meryl's bed. Her skin was a lighter shade of brown compared to his own but there was something in her face that felt weirdly…familiar. The stranger lied down, with one hand on the gun and the other on her left flank and she started staring at him. Of course, he stared right back.

"So…are you going to answer my question or are you gonna keep bleeding on my grandma's blanket?" He asked bluntly.

The stranger started to smile and, once again, Caleb was hit with that feeling of almost knowing her.

"...Seems like… being rude runs…in the family."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Now that he wasn't feeling as stressed, he noticed the strange outfit she was wearing. It looked like some kind of bluish armored jacket, almost Power Rangers-like. Her gun was also a lot bulkier than any other he had seen before.

"It means… you could at least…ask if I need some help, don't you think?"

Even the tone of her voice felt familiar.

"Do you?" He sarcastically asked

"If the bleeding wasn't obvious…"

"Oh, I can hardly miss it but I made it a rule never to help a stranger after they've pointed a gun to my face."

The stranger rolled her eyes and fell back down on the bed.

"And how about…helping family…after they've pointed a gun to your face?"

Caleb held his breath.

"What?"

She turned her head toward him.

"Nice to…meet you…Caleb…I'm Levy…your cousin."