ACROSS WORLDS

Part 7

Hushed voices murmured in the background, pulling Dominique from her peaceful sleep. She cursed under her breath, annoyed by the disturbance.

"Keep it down, Grandma," Stacey whispered. "I don't want her to wake. She needs to rest. Yesterday was tough on her."

"But you said she was ready," the older voice replied.

"Yes, ready mentally. But she's not physically prepared. Does it start today?"

"Yes, and she should be on her way already."

"Where exactly am I supposed to be?" Dominique asked groggily, pushing herself up from the bed.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Dominique. We didn't mean to wake you," Stacey apologized, pointing to an elderly woman with gray hair sitting quietly in the corner. "This is my grandma."

"How are you feeling? Stacey said you used the black soap?" the old woman asked, her voice warm but serious.

Dominique stretched, surprised by how rested she felt. "Honestly, better than I've been in a while. It's strange. I thought I'd be exhausted."

Stacey's grandmother smiled knowingly, moving closer to place a hand on Dominique's forehead. "That's the power of Halium, the black soap you used. It does more than help you sleep—it prepares you for the journey ahead. But you must hurry. Time is slipping away."

Dominique sat up abruptly, glancing between Stacey and her grandmother. "Wait... another journey? I thought this was it?"

Grandma shot Stacey a sharp look. "You said she was ready!"

"I-I thought she was, Grandma! We just didn't realize this would involve an actual journey," Stacey stammered.

"Not 'we,' child. She," the elderly woman corrected, turning to Dominique. "You were chosen for something much bigger. You have a purpose, but only if you accept it. Until you embrace that, you will never find the peace or fulfillment you've been seeking."

She dropped a folded paper onto the bed and moved closer. "Pack a light bag. Take only what you need for survival. The journey you're about to start will test you, and through it, you'll find yourself—or lose your way entirely. If you don't believe in this, return to the U.S. and go back to your old life. The choice is yours."

Without waiting for a response, Stacey's grandmother kissed them both lightly on the forehead and headed for the door. "I'll be at the inn. Meet me there." And with that, she was gone.

Stacey took a tentative step toward Dominique. "I'm really sorry for pushing you into this. I understand if you don't want to go through with it. I know I've dragged you far outside your comfort zone. But I love you, and I want you to be better. Everyone does. You need this—for yourself."

Dominique sighed, her heart heavy with doubt and fear. "I know, Stace. I'm just... scared. You know me. I don't believe in this stuff." She paused, eyes narrowing with resolve. "But if believing is what it takes to make me whole again, then I'll do it. I'll go."

Stacey's face lit up with a relieved smile. "Come here," she said, wrapping Dominique in a tight hug. "You'll be okay. I promise."

"Thank you. Are you sure you can't come with me?"

Stacey gently cupped her friend's face. "You know I would if I could. I'm always up for an adventure, but this... this is yours. You have to do it alone."

Dominique nodded, steeling herself for what lay ahead. "Thanks, Stace."

"Now hurry up and pack. I need to meet Grandma. We've got some catching up to do," Stacey said, walking out with one last glance over her shoulder, leaving Dominique to prepare for the journey.

*****

With beads of sweat running down her neck, Dominique stepped out of the taxi and began the rest of her journey on foot. The map she held showed that the path was too steep and narrow for any vehicle to traverse. Dressed in a tank top and leggings, she braced herself for the searing heat, feeling the sun scorch her exposed skin as she walked.

Despite the discomfort, she pressed on, determined to see this journey through. Along the way, villagers greeted her, their voices carrying a blend of curiosity and respect for the stranger from the West. As she ventured farther south, the number of people she encountered dwindled, and soon it was just her, the path, and the wild landscape ahead.

As Dominique climbed a small hill, her spirits unexpectedly lifted. The sight of trees clumped together near the valley and the golden light of the winter solstice filled her with a sense of renewal. It was as if the journey was bringing her back to life, stirring something deep within her—a spark of creativity, of competitiveness, of joy she hadn't felt since childhood.

Her mind wandered back to the orphanage, a time she rarely revisited. She remembered Miss Andeh, the strict woman who had made sure all the girls learned a craft, despite the limited resources. Though Dominique had been withdrawn and kept her distance from others, Miss Andeh had shown her kindness. She would tell her stories and take her out to the cornfields, teaching her about life and growth.

Dominique chuckled at the memory of those moments, of how Miss Andeh once said that life could be found even in the smallest, simplest things. Those words seemed more relevant now than ever.

As the hours passed and night fell, the forest came alive with sounds. Croaks and rustles from unseen creatures filled the air, but Dominique felt strangely calm. She wasn't afraid, not even in the dark. In fact, the night brought a sense of peace—she felt more at home in the wilderness than she had in a long time.

Finally, emerging from the trees, she caught sight of Pilo in the distance. The village was bathed in a soft, mystical glow, its ancient structures standing like silent sentinels. It was breathtaking—so much so that Dominique hesitated, not wanting to disturb the sanctity of the place.

"Don't be afraid. This is your home now," a voice said from behind her.

She spun around, startled. A man, bare-chested and wearing a red robe from the waist down, stood before her. A white circle was painted under his right eye, and his bald head glistened in the moonlight.

"Where the hell did you come from?" she asked, still shaken by his sudden appearance.

The man bowed his head slightly. "Forgive me for startling you. We've been expecting you. I'm here to escort you to the Crato—the building you see there." He pointed to the grand structure glowing in the distance. "Come, we must hurry. Time is of the essence."

That phrase again—time. Dominique nodded, falling in step with him as they walked along the path to the Crato. She had a million questions, but for now, she kept them to herself, focused on putting one foot in front of the other.

As they neared the entrance of the Crato, Dominique noticed the clay pots lining the pillars, each holding a flame that cast a warm, orange glow across the stone. Statues flanked the entrance, their features carved from a strange material she couldn't identify. One statue in particular caught her eye—it was of a woman with her head tilted to the side, her expression one of deep sorrow and suffering. Dominique couldn't shake the image from her mind, though she had no idea what it meant.

Two women, dressed in long red robes with white circles painted above their elbows, approached them. They curtsied and the younger one took Dominique's bag before disappearing with the man who had escorted her.

"Welcome," one of the women said. "We must begin immediately. Time is running out."

There it was again—the urgency of time. Dominique followed the woman inside, her heart racing with uncertainty about what awaited her in this strange, ancient place.