It wasn’t that Gemma had forgotten her home assignment under the countless well-I-tried sketches. And it certainly wasn’t that she didn’t give a flying bullfinch about Maths. It was just the fact that the teacher couldn’t stand her. Gemma could bet her life that Ms Mole (it wasn’t her actual name as you may have guessed, just a part of her that was mostly noticeable and that deserved to be praised) couldn’t stand her witty young guts. That was the only reasonable explanation why her mom was called into the Principal’s office on a Tuesday when lunch seemed like the only way to escape the suffocating reality of being an adult. Because of a missing assignment, which Gemma hadn’t had time to file a report on, her mom had to be interrogated on Gemma’s evaporating potential as the greatest mathematician at sandwich o’clock. Gemma couldn’t help but wonder whether her forgotten assignment could have any impact on her future. Minute like nagging, sure. But would it change her life drastically? What if that assignment was the key to getting a letter from Hogwarts? Or was it a secret code to the secret bookworms’ society? Or …! No way! Maybe?

A bang on the floor got Gemma out of her increasingly ridiculous list of possibilities (and she was the person who aced that topic in Maths). Something rectangular was lying on the floor. As there was nothing else to do, Gemma took tiny steps towards the mysterious object.

‘Let’s see what you are!’ she put her hands on the frames and turned the object over.

It was a painting! However, it wasn’t your regular only-snobs-will-understand painting. There was no need for a big name, overly-complicated descriptions and crowds of esteemed critics, looking down on those not enlightened. And you definitely didn’t need to read a research paper to get a grasp on things. It was art which would make its way into the deep crevices of your mind and soul without asking for permission. It was trespassing, however, you would not dare say no.

Gemma was standing right in the middle of the forest. An all-shades-of-green one. There wasn’t a single glimpse of life except for those giant trees. It was serene. She could feel the damp smell of moss, the warm sunlight on her freckles and the light breeze in her hair. She was saved by ancient green giants. They could tuck her away from hats, moles and a failed History test.

‘Oh, goodness! You shouldn’t be lying on the floor! Let’s put you back where you belong!’ the worlds got Gemma out of nature bliss and brought her back to the harsh reality of missed sandwich o’clock. Ms Mole’s thick heels were banging on the wooden floor. She was in a rush to return the painting to its original place. Because in the adult world everything must have its own place, even a simple painting of a forest.

‘Gemma? Is that you? Are you all right?’ Ms Mole wouldn’t stop speaking.

‘Yes, Ms, I’m OK’, a voice so faint, no one but a mosquito would hear it.

‘Let’s put this bad boy back! Why is it in your hands, Gemma?’ That Miss would never miss a chance to bust a student, doing something she regarded illegal in the school walls.

‘I was waiting for mom when it suddenly fell. I was about to hang it myself’ The detective seemed to have approved of her statement. With the help of Ms Mole, the painting was back where it belonged - on a dull wall not far from the Chief Prosecutor’s office. The magic was lost. That place seemed to have sucked all the life out of the tress. It became nothing more than another object to collect dust.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Gemma couldn’t help but feel devastated. She couldn’t travel there again. She took one more look at the canvas and saw a signature down at the right corner. Aura. It was unclear whether it was the artist’s name or the picture’s, but it rolled nice off her tongue. She was muttering the word when the office door swung open and a Goddess of the House emerged, flustered and mad.

Gemma was grounded for a week. However, it was a gift from above because the weather wasn’t up to walking standards. It was muddy and chilly. So in these conditions there was no place like home. Gemma was working on the potential as a Master of all Sciences under the Goddess’ tight supervision. It was tiresome and boring, but she couldn’t do anything unless she wanted her book privileges revoked. Every night Gemma would follow the journey full of magic, conquests and restored justice. That night was nothing special. Gemma was devouring another novel about greedy gods and struggling people when one chapter got her full attention. She was approaching every world with utmost care.

Licht was locked in the forest which was governed by the Goddess of Destiny. He was wandering around, looking for the Fountain of Clarity but his every step seemed to have taken him further away from his target. His only companion was the sound of the dry branches, cracking under his heavy feet. With every step, the forest grew thicker and darker. Until one day a ray of sunlight fell on his face. The trees seemed to have stepped away from him to let his whole body take a sun shower. A warm breeze was embracing his long silver hair. He was the warrior who was accepted by the Goddess. When all hope was almost lost, She picked him up and gave him warmth. Licht finally opened his eyes and saw Her, the Goddess of Destiny. The warmth and light was coming from her. She was the sun of the forest. Her golden hair was flowing down a light dress made of clouds and flowers. She was holding a gold sceptre with a flowing glass orb on top of it. But she wasn’t wearing a crown. Leaves of all colours were circling her head, which Licht thought with a little bit more wind could turn into a tornado.

‘You called me, Licht,’ a warm voice got the warrior startled.

‘Yes, Goddess. I called for you. I prayed to you.’

‘I know why you came here looking for me, child of Light. She isn’t here. She was taken away by them. You can never find her here.’

Licht was not surprised. He knew the Supreme God had taken Terra away. They possessed a threat to their current regime. They held the power to expose the practices that had been bestowed upon them for millions of years.

‘Your Holiness, will I ever find her?’

The dead silence filled up the damp air.

‘You are destined to bring change. If you are in grave trouble, call my name. Your ray of destiny will save you.’

The answer was clear, but he never intended to give up.

‘Your Holiness, how can I address you?’

‘Aura’.

Gemma opened her eyes, gasping for air. It was a dream? A dream so vivid, one could easily mistaken it for reality. Aura. Aura was a Goddess. She was helping…what was his name? Gemma was sure of one thing - that guy was looking for something and Aura was hesitant to help. She definitely knew more than she told him! But why did she withhold information from a clearly desperate man? And why did she reveal her true name to him? Ah, that world of fantasy dreams novels! They love to be dramatic!

‘Gemma, sweety, the dinner is ready!’

The human needs pulled Gemma out of the list of piling questions. The Goddess was certainly dramatic, but that’s how the world of fiction works. They over exaggerate and hardly ever communicate. The worlds are full of misunderstandings which could easily be resolved with a few direct questions, but they are never asked for the sake of the plot. Anyway, that Aura could have been more helpful towards that lost guy. But all these thoughts disappeared once Gemma saw roasted veggies with chicken. Now her plate was full of various food and the room was lit by the faint cold autumn sun.