sand castles | f. vacker

03 DENIAL IS NOT A RIVER IN EGYPT

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JOELLE'S FATHER PACED up and down a small waiting room, his steps being absorbed by the carpeted floor. Her daughter was in a pair of elfin handcuffs — ones that could withhold the species' strength — attached to the surface of a crystal table, and he was currently stressing the importance of the current situation to her, trying not to break. Both were in denial.

"Plead guilty. Exillium. Redemption. Approval." Her father stopped for a second to stare into her eyes, making sure she knew what was happening.

Joelle repeated it, her eyes stuck on the hands, which she repeatedly clenched and released. "Guilty. Exillium. Redemption. Approval. Guilty. Exillium. Redemption. Approval."

Her father nodded his head and continued pacing. This was horrible. This was so horrible. This was, in fact, the most horrible scenario he could think of. Scratch that. He could be dead, too. His son could be dead. They all could be dead. If they were all dead, he wouldn't have to deal with—

"Sir Zimmerman," a commanding voice called out, interrupting his not-so-happy thoughts. "Time is up."

Sir Zimmerman nodded his head, giving one glance back at his emotionless, statue-like daughter before leaving the room. The sound of the door shutting behind him felt like the end of his worries, but it was, unfortunately, only the beginning. You see, after he found his crying daughter and dead wife, Sir Zimmerman went into panic mode. He thought, just for a second, about hiding . . . her body, but he was an elf, and he couldn't deal with guilt. Not after Alden had been lost. So he called up the Council, he assembled a half-truth, and he devised a plan and a house in the woods away from the Lost Cities.

Not for him, but for his daughter. As soon as he arrived home, he ordered the gnomes, somewhat unkindly, to take care of the keys and construction. Earlier, he had given . . . his daughter a small beaded bracelet, which contained a light-leaping crystal to the construction sight. Hopefully, it was almost done by now.

"Daddy," his son whined, pulling at Sir Zimmerman's cape. "I want your cake."

"Cape, Elijah. It's a cape."

"Cake."

Sir Zimmerman sighed and took off his cape, giving it to his untroubled son to play with. He watched as the little boy tried to button it around his neck, but ultimately failed and gave up, just dragging it behind him like a toy as he found a place to play hide-and-seek with Estelle, one of the worried gnomes. She sent a small look at Sir Zimmerman, but he ignored it and went to bed, although he never did end up sleeping.

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IT WAS JOELLE'S first day at Exillium, and it was not going well. Honestly, she never expected it to be bursts of sunshine and rainbows, but she really hated it. Loathed it. The stinky masks, the black uniforms, the careless students, the nasty food. Above all, it was the fact that every time a gust of wind blew by, she had to clench her fists grit her teeth, and squeeze her eyes to not urge the breeze to grow stronger. It was terrible. This place was full of depressed, soggy elves, and all she wanted to do was go home. See her brother, her dad, and her mum. She wanted it to be the way it was before when she visited Fitz and Biana and played Base Quest with Keefe.

Thankfully, as the day dragged on, the wind died down, and now it only tickled her skin, which was actually so much more frustrating. At the end of the day, the Purple Coach for the Ambi Hemisphere gave the Waywards, also known as the students, a bead. Joelle watched as everyone reached up to grab theirs, so she followed suit. As soon as her fingers touched it, a shock of electricity traveled up her spine.