CHAPTER 35

OCTOBER 25TH, 8:30 P.M.

54 HOURS TO INVASION

LAUREL

Her feet dangled off the edge of the catwalk, hundreds of feet in the air. Below her, a diamond of green grass and orange clay. A packed house tonight; fifty thousand crazy fans cheering. A close game, bottom of the seventh. One ball and one strike.

The pitch. The crack of the bat. A drive, deep left field. No doubt about it. The stadium shook as the crowd went ballistic. The batter stood, admiring his home run before tossing the bat with arrogance.

Laurel was awestruck. A celebratory horn blared. The game was flipped on its head. And she had the best seats in the house. At least in her opinion. She leaned forward, holding onto the rails as she kicked her feet in excitement, rooting for the home team. Her cheers weren’t drowned out by the pandemonium but were another cog in it. She was in love.

Coming down from her adrenaline rush, she stopped her incoherent yelling, falling back and catching her breath. Her momentum continued backwards further than she was expecting. Her back should have hit the catwalk by now. Instead, it kept going, like she was falling. Her heart dropped.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed her shoulder. She was yanked backwards in the direction of what she thought was the start of a freefall. Instead, she passed through a blue ring. The stadium environment she previously found herself in was contained inside the ring. The outside showed a totally new place. A large, dark wood and brick interior of a house. Her house.

Laurel fell to the floor with a soft thud. The portal closed in front of her, and the crowd noise with it. Her newfound silence was not to be pleasant, however. Anders, her father, stepped into her view, visibly furious. He was old, with thinning gray hair. His face bore a snow-white beard with no mustache. His body seemed younger than his apparent age but was growing frailer by the month.

“Where have you been?” he asked angrily.

“Why are you awake?” Laurel asked, confused.

“Why are you awake? Sneaking out, is that it? You’re better than that!”

Laurel didn’t answer. She sat up instead, crossing her legs together and staring at the floor.

“You can’t sneak off like that, do you understand?” Her father continued her scolding. “If something happens to you, then I won’t know where you are. It’s irresponsible, it’s stupid, it’s…”

“I’m sorry,” she apologized.

“How did you get there?”

Laurel looked up. Anders looked more perplexed now than angry.

“How did you get there?”

“I-I don’t know,” Laurel lied. An awful attempt at it.

“Did you portal there?”

“No?”

“Laurel, be honest with me. Please.”

Without her response, her father knew the answer.

“How often have you been doing this?”

Laurel was completely busted. No point in lying anymore.

“A couple times a week…”

“A couple times a week? Where are you going? You better not be going out to parties; you are far too young for that!”

“No, I’m not I swear! Just stuff like that.”

“Like what?”

“Sports games. Beaches. Nature parks. I promise that’s it.” Anders held a stern gaze on Laurel. He knew she was telling the truth. Her lying was too obvious. “I promise that’s it. I don’t really have any friends to go to parties with, anyways.”

“How long have you been able to portal?” her father asked.

Laurel hesitated. “Two years, maybe more.”

Anders was stunned. “Why have you been lying about your ability to portal?”

“I thought you would get mad at me for going places…”

“So you pretended like you couldn’t do it so I would not suspect you of sneaking out.”

“I’m sorry. I was just exploring; I swear I’m not doing anything bad.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, turning away with his other hand on his hip. Laurel stayed put, uncomfortably looking on as she awaited her punishment. She expected the worst: six months at least. Anders stood in silence. Each second made Laurel more anxious. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“I didn’t know you could do that…” he said to himself. She didn’t know how to reply. She didn’t know if she should. Maybe it would be best if she just kept her mouth shut and accepting what was-

“I’m sorry, honey.”

“What?”

“I just, I didn’t know. I wish you would have told me.”

“Told you… told you that I can make portals?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “I was just so worried… and, and confused, because I didn’t know where you were. But you’ve proved to be smarter than I ever suspected.”

“Oh…” Now she didn’t know what the hell was going on.

“In training, you’ve never been able to perfect it,” Anders started. “The articulation with the ring finger, you always struggled. You were faking it?”

Laurel awkwardly rubbed her hands together. “You’re not mad at me?”

Her father sighed, staring longingly out a nearby window. Dim light barely peeked through. The morning sun struggled against the thick, icy fog over their house. Without a word, Anders walked out the backdoor, out into the back patio.

Laurel followed soon after. The air was chilly, mired by a whiteish-blue mist. Winter was coming into fruition in Iceland. Anders gazed through the fog, staring down the mountainside, despite not being able to see anything. That’s because he was not looking, but thinking.

“Dad?”

“If you would have told me you could portal, I would have allowed you to travel. With supervision.”

“I made a mistake-“

“It’s okay.” Her father turned to face her. His expression was grim. “It’s time I was honest with you.” Laurel clenched her arms together, trying her best to resist shivering in the cold. She didn’t know what Anders was leading to, but his demeanor scared her.

“Truthfully,” he started. “I was afraid of you growing up too fast.”

“What do you mean?”

“I wasn’t upset that you snuck out. I was upset that your training has progressed faster than I anticipated. It was selfish of me.”

“I don’t understand,” Laurel said through chattering teeth. “Why would you be upset by that?”

Her father exhaled, his breath visibly billowing from his nose. “I’m two hundred years old, Laurel.”

“Yeah?”

“That’s not natural. Mystics don’t live that long.” Laurel was taken aback. “We live just as long as everyone else. I’ve been lying to you.”

“Why?”

“There’s only one individual born every century that is gifted with the arcane. There is no inclination to who it might be. No favoritism in the decision. No discernable pattern. It’s a mystery who the universe decides. You are the most recent. I was not the one before you.” Anders paused, staring out into the fog again.

“The long gap between the birthing of the arcane leaves each one to fend for themselves. No one to learn from. No one to be mentored by. They are thrown to their own devices. Many falter and never reach their potential. Others are misguided, and stray down a dark path. I dreamt of being able to right this dilemma. I studied incantations to extend my lifespan and waited a hundred years for the next child arcana. I hoped to take them under my wing, guide them into the greatest mystic there ever was.”

“That’s not me?” Laurel asked.

“I never found them,” Anders said solemnly. “Only the universe knows. Maybe they died young. Maybe they never discovered their powers. Maybe the arcana skipped a generation. The mark of a gifted child is usually unmistakable…”

Laurel was too captivated now to feel the cold. Her father’s words rattled around her head. She found herself confused about what her role in all of this was.

“But that was a hundred years ago?”

“I didn’t give up on my mission. I endured another century, praying my life’s ambition wasn’t a mistake. Finally, I found you. The little American girl with eyes that peered into the void.”

“I, I still don’t understand,” Laurel stressed.

“I am old, my daughter,” he said. “Too old. I have been enduring… great pain. I rather not refer to it as suffering, but it’s hard not to. To keep myself alive to raise you into a great sorceress. My body is well beyond its expiration date. I’m being held together with my magic. Each second, my body is trying to give out, but it’s not allowed to.” Laurel suddenly felt tears welling up in her eyes. She had no idea he was in pain.

“I pushed past it every day because I had you. You were my motivation. I knew my days were numbered. That there would be a time that I could no longer continue. But I persevered for you. When you struggled with conjuring your portals, part of me was happy. It told me that I would have more time with you. That I have a reason to keep going.” Laurel sensed where this was going.

“Now I see my time is soon up. You are further along than I expected.” Anders stopped talking. He stood motionless. Laurel found herself on the edge of sobbing.

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“Dad?” she said shakily. “What are you saying?”

“On your eighteenth birthday, it’ll be your time to go out into the world. In my final breath, I will pass on the last of my arcana to you.”

“No…”

“It will be my last day, but the first in your maturity.”

“Wait no,” she pleaded. “That’s too soon!”

“You’ll be free to explore and fill your mind with wonders-“

“But I want you to still be around!” Laurel demanded. “I’m not done yet! I’m not done having you as my father!”

“Laurel,” he said softly. “You will be more powerful than any mystic ever was. You will do great things in this world.”

“But-“

“Laurel,” Anders interrupted firmly. “I am tired. I would endure lifetimes of suffering if it meant spending more time with my daughter. I have, and I see now that it was well spent. It’s time for me to finally rest.”

“Please, dad…” Laurel’s lips quivered. Her eyes streamed with water.

“It’ll be okay, my dear.”

She stormed away, unable to bear the conversation any longer.

“I’ll always be with you,” he whispered into her mind.

I’ll always be with you.

The ceiling fan squeaked with each rotation on its axis. It was almost comforting, like a white noise. Laurel stared up at it, laying flat on the bed. Her St. Grad suite wasn’t so bad. Much better than what they found themselves in at the NLV. Despite that, she found herself unable to sleep. It wasn’t dreams that played in her head, at least with those the time would be passing. And the pulsing ache of her four-fingered hand would go unnoticed. Instead, memories replayed behind her eyes to the audience of her conscious mind.

She rolled onto her side. She shared the bed alone. Leo had not yet returned from getting some air on the balcony. She realized not that much time had passed anyway, merely the minutes felt like ten to her. Laurel was never going to fall asleep like this.

“Leo?” she called through the open sliding glass door. He probably couldn’t hear her. She climbed out of bed and walked out onto the balcony. Or at least she thought it was a balcony. Instead, she found herself on a wide terrace, decorated with cushioned seats and pergolas. Sitting relaxed on a reclined seat, gazing up at the stars, she found Leo.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey, Laurel.” He examined her for a moment. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Can’t sleep is all.”

“It’s not that late anyways.”

She nodded. “Scoot.”

Leo shuffled as much as he could on the limited space. Laurel laid down next to him, putting her hands on his body for support. He hissed in pain.

“What? What’s wrong?” she asked, straightening upright.

“My ribs,” he strained. “Still broken.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” He silently accepted her apology. “Can I look at it?” With a nod, she gently lifted his shirt. On the right side of his torso, his ribcage was painted deep red and black.

“It’s healing fine,” Leo assured. “Bones heal in a few days for me.”

Laurel glanced at him, perplexed.

“What do you mean bones heal in a few days?”

“I heal fast. Another one of my ‘gifts’ I suppose.”

“Why did you never tell me this?” she said in awe.

“Didn’t think it was important.” Laurel rolled her eyes playfully at his comment. “Come here.”

She laid down, slower this time, careful to keep her weight off him and instead mold against his side. She laid her held down on his shoulder, while he wrapped his arm around her.

“Give me your hand.” Laurel obliged, holding out her injured hand for him. He gently clasped it with his own. “It’ll absorb into other people too.” As he spoke, the pain in her hand began to soothe. Not totally nullifying it, but a reduction in pain was welcome, nonetheless.

“It will only ease the pain a little,” he clarified. “I can’t heal injuries any faster. Or regrow fingers.”

“So that’s what that was.”

“What what was?”

“In the medical tent,” Laurel said. “When you were holding my hand. You asked how the pain was. It’s just this constant, dull ache that shoots down my arm, you know. But in that moment, it didn’t hurt as bad. I thought it was weird but now it makes sense.” She closed her eyes, sighing contently. “This is better.”

Leo took notice of her shorts, which did little to provide warmth down her legs.

“You’re not cold?”

“I’m pretty used to the cold,” she assured. “You’re warm enough for me, anyways.”

Laurel nuzzled closer to Leo, feeling the ever so elusive sleep become more obtainable all the sudden. At the same time, she didn’t feel tired. But the relief she felt in her hand opened the door for it.

She looked up at her companion, holding close eye contact from so close. Until his eyes diverted.

“Is that your school that you’re a fan of?”

Laurel remembered the sweater she wore displayed the spartan helmet logo proudly overtop the dark green.

“It is,” she confirmed. “Haven’t been to a football game in a while. Used to go to a lot when I was younger.”

“Who’d you go with?”

“By myself.” Leo raised his eyebrow. “I snuck out often, remember?”

“Did your father ever find out?”

“He did, eventually. But he wasn’t too mad about it.”

“Really?”

“Mhmm,” she hummed. “This is so bizarre because I was just thinking about this before I came out here.”

“I know. I read your mind.”

Laurel scoffed. “I do miss Anders, though.”

“From what you told me, he sounded like a great man. I’m sure he would be proud if he could see you now.”

“I know he sees me now. He’s watching over me. I feel his presence from time to time, I know it’s him.”

“How do you mean?”

“I feel his presence. It’s like a gust of wind sometimes, or a touch on the shoulder and when you turn no one’s there. Or the ambient noises a house makes at night. Deciding to do something but randomly getting a feeling not to do it, then it turns out that was the right call. Those happen, but I know when it’s nothing and I know when it’s him.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because I just know. I feel a gentle breeze pass by all the time, usually it’s just that. But sometimes it’s Anders, letting me know that he’s with me in spirit, watching over me and keeping me safe. I know it’s him. I just know.”

“Is that because he was a mystic too? That he can hold a presence in the real world from the afterlife.”

“No, not at all. It can be everyone. If you open your mind to it and pay attention, you’ll feel it too. Whoever you may have connected with in your life, if their spirit is safe and sending you their love, you’ll know.”

“I’m not sure I really believe in that stuff,” Leo confessed. “I believe you. I’m just a skeptic, I guess.”

“If I somehow kicked the bucket before you, I’d come by and, I don’t know.” she paused to gently brush a lock of hair off his forehead. “Push your hair out of your face, like I always do. You’ll believe it then.”

“And if it’s you doing that, I’ll know?”

“You’ll know. I promise,” she said with a smile. Leo reciprocated, turning his attention to gander aimlessly at the starry night.

“Can you tell me a little about Casstyr?”

Leo was pulled from his mental wandering. “What?”

“Your home world,” Laurel said. “I always share stories about my younger years, but you never do. I want to hear some of it. I even found where your star is in the night sky.”

“You did?”

“Yeah,” she said, turning to face the night. She pointed up, leaning in closer to allow him to see where the tip of her finger directed. “I remember because it’s two stars below the foot of Orion.”

“Okay, well…” Leo began, trying to come up with something on the spot. “The sky was always covered with these layers of clouds. But they weren’t clouds like they are here; it was a gas. And it would change color based on temperature and light. At night it would be a deep, dark blue, like there was an ocean above you. During the day, it would shimmer a golden-yellow color. Really bright too.”

“That sounds cool.”

“Yeah…” he paused. “And uh, it was really hot. We all lived on the north pole because the rest of the planet was too hot. Even there, it was still hot.”

Laurel stayed silent, letting him speak freely and at his own pace. She rested her cheek on his shoulder, comforting him as he stared off.

“You would have loved my mother,” he said softly.

“What was her name?”

“Caereena,” his voice trailed off. “I miss her.”

“Her spirit is with you,” she assured him, placing her hand over his heart. Leo laid his own over hers.

“I hope so.”

“She is. You just have to keep your mind open for it.” Laurel joined him in the stargazing. Although, she predicted he wasn’t paying much attention to them. Maybe she could put something else up in the sky instead.

“I want to try to recreate what a Casstyr night sky looked like."

"No, that’s okay-“

“It’ll be small. Just for us to see. I’m-“

“Please.”

She stopped with her hand halfway up already.

“It’s fine, I just… I don’t really want to talk about my home.”

She brought her hand back down, slipping it between his again. “Okay,” she said. “I won’t.”

Laurel hoped she didn’t hurt him somehow. He wasn’t showing it, but he’s always been good at hiding it. And if he was, he would never say so. He’d be doing it to not make her feel bad, but it makes her feel worse not knowing. She knows his mother died. That’s probably what did it. Should’ve never pushed the issue after he brought that up.

As she tried to decipher what he might be thinking, Leo calmly stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, keeping a gentle but warm hold on it.

“I want to hear your stories” he said finally. “If you want to, of course.”

“Okay,” she smiled. “I’ve already told you a lot.”

“You always think of something new for me every time.”

“Well, let me think.” Laurel smacked her lips together as she racked her brain.

“Do you remember anything from living in Michigan?” he suggested. “The first time. When you were little, little.”

“Oh, barely,” she admitted. “I was so young. I have faint glimpses, but my first concrete memory is when Anders took me in.”

Leo turned his head to face her. She did the same. His eyebrows furrowed.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“If you don’t mind.”

“I probably won’t. Unless it’s something crazy,” she joked.

“Do you remember your biological parents?”

She hesitated. She did, but the memory was so faint that she didn’t think of them as her parents. Anders has always been her dad.

“No, not really,” she said.

“I never knew mine.”

Her mouth opened in shock before quickly closing. “Caereena wasn’t your bio mom?”

“No,” Leo shared. “But for all it’s worth, she was my real mother.”

Laurel nodded. “I feel the same way about Anders. Except father, not mother.”

“I figured.”

“Just making sure.”

They leaned their heads together, looking down at where their hands were intertwined. Between Leo’s healing powers and his company, she almost couldn’t feel her hand anymore.

“How did that make you feel?”

Laurel looked up at him, silently requesting more information.

“About your biological parents. When Anders adopted you. Do you have any resentment to them.”

“No, not at all,” she said. “They were… regular, people. Good people, from what I’m told. They didn’t know what was happening with me and I don’t blame them. It was best for both of us.”

“What was happening with you? Were there signs?”

Laurel looked at him silently for a few seconds. She pushed herself up, sitting with her legs crossed. Leo rose and did the same, sitting face to face.

“I trust you,” she said. Her eyelids shut. She brought her good hand to her face, touching her cheekbones with her thumb and index finger. A trail of pink magic illuminated underneath her nails and into her face. Her eyelids glowed. A light, icy blue hidden behind the thin layer of skin. With a deep breath, she opened.

Two black eyeballs, mired with veins. Irises a piercing, intense light blue, staring daggers into Leo. The twisting veins shared the same unnatural color. Her pupils were shrunken; a small black dot, but a deeper and darker black than he’s ever seen.

Laurel anxiously awaited his response. His eyes shifted, focusing on one before moving to the other. Yet, he didn’t speak. In fact, he seemed unbothered. He studied her face with her real set of eyes, satisfying his curiosity. Almost a minute passed. Still no words. Everyone who has ever seen her real eyes is either freaked out, repulsed, or both. She quickly learned to hide it, but with Leo, she felt safe.

He gently lifted his hand, hovering before her face, as if asking permission. She looked down at the hand, then returning to his face, signaling her approval. Leo softly held onto her face. His fingertips were warm, conducting pleasant restoration into her. He tilted her head back and forth, committing the sight to memory. His lack of a response was only making her more nervous by the second.

“This doesn’t scare you?”

Leo still held off on a response, not finished with his observation. Eventually, he dropped his hand.

“They’re your eyes,” he said. “And I like you. So I like your eyes.”

Laurel was instantly flooded with relief. “You don’t think they’re even a little freaky?”

“They’re unique. Fascinating. Symbolic of who uses them.”

Laurel blushed, not bothering to hide it. She restored the illusion, reverting her eyes back to the regular brown irises with white sclera. She smiled, as did he. Their faces were mere inches away. They held firm, waiting for the other to move first. Leo cracked. His pupils dilated. He focused on her with a strong gaze.

“What are you thinking?” she whispered.

“I think I love you.”

Laurel froze. Her heart pounded out of her chest. Blood rushed to her face.

“I love you too.”

Everything else drowned away. All their problems became negligible. St. Grad became irrelevant. The war became an issue for later. It was just them now. He was her world now, as she was his.

“Oh, Leo.”

Their lips connected, hungry for one another. Laurel threw her arms around him and climbed into his lap. They panted, struggling for air, but unwilling to pull away even for a second. Her hands snaked their way underneath his shirt, feeling along his soft but firm skin, carefully avoiding his broken ribs. His hands did some exploring of their own, massaging her strong legs with one, while the other dug into her back, pushing them closer together.

“Take me,” she broke away and whispered, kissing along his neck.

Leo grabbed her sides, effortlessly lifting her up. She locked her legs around his back, securing herself as he walked them back inside. Her sweater was discarded across the room. The Spartans will have to sit this one out.

Her back landed on the bed. His shirt came next. Laurel grabbed a handful of it, yanking it with some magical help, causing the fabric to fall apart. Leo pushed her up further on the bed, but upon his assault, he accidentally grazed her injured hand.

“Ow!”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” she panted, grabbing his head and forcing it down to her neck. “Just keep going.” Her back arched; goosebumps riddled her skin as she bit down on her bottom lip.

Out of the corner of her eye across the room, she saw the door was cracked open slightly. With a flick of her wrist, it closed quietly.