The Misfortune of Distorted Truth

In The World

Mangy, dirt-coated fur brushing her face. A warm body against her own, battered and scarred by war. M felt as if she were in another world, a dream world, where all was quiet; where her only sight was of a pile of unconscious bodies, and a Mouse's sympathetic face right near hers; where her only touch was of the tough flesh and muscle that blocked her way to Isaac; and where her only taste was of the saltwater streaming from her eyes, wetting her lips. M had never felt quite like this before.
So... lost.
The wave of noise hit her like an ocean wave, building up so quickly and unexpectedly in front of her that she had no time to get to steady ground, where she would not be pushed into the sand. M stumbled, giving up her fight, but Howell caught her in his strong arms.
"There is no time to waste battlin'," he said, grabbing her hand roughly. "Come on, love." But M had been taken over by shock and could not reply; she found that her throat was tight and a lump seemed to have wedged itself there, and she thought if she tried to speak she would vomit. Howell led her over to her friends, where only Kasa was stirring significantly, and lowered her to rest against the wall. M's head hit the cold, unwelcoming grey stone, and she choked as another fit of tears came over her. She lifted her chin and restrained a sob.
Kasa, from where she was sprawled, moaned, and M got onto her hands and knees to crawl over to her. She wiped her eyes and watched wearily as Kasa slowly opened her own deep grayish brown ones.
"M," the young woman stated. She seemed uncertain. M nodded, sniffling loudly. "Asagwara?" With obvious strain revealed in the grimace on her dark face, Kasa pushed herself into a sitting position. But when she saw her son lying not so far away, she stood hurriedly - though on shaky legs - and went to him, falling back to her knees at his side. She was murmuring to him now, stroking his hair, feeling his stony face, clutching his fingers in hers... "What happened to my boy?" she shot at everyone within range of her fury. A few Mousen scurried off into the tunnels.
"'Ello, Mistress," Howell smiled sadly. "You don' need to 'ave a worry about 'im. 'E'll be alrigh'."
"Alright?!" Kasa repeated, outraged, checking her son's pulse on his wrist and forehead and feeling for the beat of his heart. "Alright? Asagwara goes missing from my home for a few weeks, I'm attacked by an intruder, I wake up here, find my son and his friends unconscious or injured underground in a f-" she hesitated- "freaking cave, and you tell me he'll be alright?!" Her nostrils flared, her short, very dark brown, frizzy hair - now released from its tight braids - seeming to become even frizzier as she swung around to stand facing Howell, hands on her jean-clad hips.
"I mean' no offense," the Mouse said quietly. "I would take 'im to the Sorrowturtle for 'healin', too, if i' weren' for Master's orders."
"Howell!" M wailed, the name bursting from her throat accompanied by hot tears streaming down her cheeks. She stood as well, and, trembling with rage and grief, she pointed accusingly at him, an inch from his twitching black nose. "Don't do anything that monster says! Don't do anything! They aren't your Master!"
"Bu' Mistress," he replied, inching his head regretfully, "they are." The Mouse peeled back a tattered bandage from his left shoulder to reveal a deep, blood-stained scar... a scar that had been made from a marking carved roughly into his flesh by a knife. It was in the shape of an eye. "When I... ah, when I 'urt Val, ya see, I was no better than Asagwara in Duygu's eyes. So I was Marked. I may 'ave pu' a bi' of a show on back in the man's cave, but, ah, I'm nuttin' more than a slave. Worthless. Didn' ya 'ear..." His black pupils were dilated, huge and pleading, sending M a silent plea that she understood if resented... "Didn' ya 'ear they said they'd forgive me if I kep' y'all 'ere? I-I c-c-could be r-released... after all these years..."
M let her arm fall to her side. She glanced at Kasa, who was still glaring at Howell persistently, though she seemed to have pity shining wetly in her grayish brown eyes. "My son needs help now." The woman's voice broke and she pressed her hand against his cheek affectionately.
M felt a surge of something like hatred towards Kasa, and it sent an eerie chill through her bones. She felt as if her heart had turned to stone in that moment. How dare she, the girl thought, her fists clenching and unclenching beside her. She expresses sorrow for Asagwara, desires assistance for him, but he is still alive, is he not? Further stinging hot tears spring to M's eyes. Isaac isn't! But she doesn't care, does she? Only cares about her son... not about me... not about my best friend... not about him, not about him, not about my best friend Isaac! "He's gone!" she yelled unexpectedly, storming up to Kasa, who jumped. "Asagwara isn't the only one who got hurt, you know!" She pressed her hands to her mouth and sobbed into them, until her fury with her had died away as quickly as it had come and Kasa was putting an arm around her shoulders, guiding her back to the wall.
"Sweetheart," whispered Kasa. And she was crying too. "M, it's going to be okay. I know it's hard now. I know it hurts like hell. But it'll get better in time..." She cast her gaze towards her son again, her face filled with longing. "You remember I told you about my boyfriend... When that wicked man took me from my house, before he'd knocked me senseless, he said to me... 'He's gone, Nenge. Your son will be soon, too.' I knew he was talking about Erhi - that's what I used to called him. I, I-I, well..." She rubbed ferociously at her eyes until they became red and puffy and tear tracks were barely visible glistening on her cheeks. "I had thought he'd be alive. In Nigeria."
"I had thought Isaac would be alive too," M breathed, the words sickening her as she spoke them. The lump rose again, and, not being able to force down the pain any longer, she pulled away from Kasa and vomited upon the cave floor; but it had not helped anything. M somehow couldn't yank her eyes away from the pool of green that had spilled from her mouth and she felt nauseated, helplessly looking at it. Kasa grabbed her hand and held her close.
Howell approached them. The bandage had been wrapped around his shoulder, covering the mark once more. "Oh, Mistress Lyra," he sighed sympathetically. "I wish I could do somethin' for ya." And now there were three teary-eyed, grief-stricken beings there, in that little corner of Fortunia, quite alone.
M curled up on the cold floor, her back to Kasa, clutching her aching stomach. She rocked there, trying to ease the pain, make it fade or go away, but still it was like a pit had entered her belly in an otherwise empty space. She closed her eyes... Isaac...
M was not aware of Asagwara groaning as he rubbed his bruised head, conscious and reaching out for his mother. She slept on as the pair embraced tearfully, slept on as Kenji woke up as well and reached instinctively to push glasses up his nose that were not there. "Hello," he said awkwardly. "Hi. Where...?"
"Oh, dear!" Kasa exclaimed, holding her son's head close to her chest with her arms firmly wrapped around him. She had hardly paid attention to Kenji before he'd made his presence known. "So does my son know you, or M? You poor boy... what's happened to your hair?" Motherly as ever, Kasa released Asagwara to tousle Kenji's hair, feeling his forehead and moving aside the wet black locks that clung to it. "Needs a cut, at least..." she muttered thoughtfully. The thirteen-year-old boy shook his head and scooted slightly away.
"I don't know M that well, ma'am," Kenji admitted, "and I've only seen your son once I suppose. Ah... I'm not sure why I'm here? Tess had taken me to the lake for one last swim day, with the season changing and all, getting colder. She'd left to change and that's when a man grabbed me." He shivered, his hands moving to his shoulders as if expecting Val's hands to be still be resting on them. "I-I don't u-u-understand." His teeth were suddenly chattering, whether from fright or chill neither Kasa nor Asagwara knew.
"The Eyes must have seen you with her at some point, and assumed the two of you to have a connection," Asagwara rasped. "We'll get you home, ah - what was your name?"
"Kenji Tokei." The Asian boy stood, flushing for no apparent reason, and smoothed his damp trunks. He tugged at the collar of his swimming shirt, pulling it out and letting it snap back to his chest over and over again. He politely extended his hand to shake Asagwara's, in spite of the situation, and they were at last formally introduced. "T-they won't hurt u-us, r-r-right?" His warm brown eyes darted around agitatedly, searching for his kidnapper in the cave, but Val was not there. He was quite busy elsewhere. But then the child's eyes came to rest on Asagwara's face again, and they narrowed in delayed recognition. "You're the one who was following M. The one that was at the restaurant in Market." Kenji folded his arms.
"I was not... right in the head at the time," Asagwara hastily excused himself, with a furtive glance towards the sleeping M. "I was being controlled by Duygu, you must believe me! If you haven't noticed, there is something very different about my face, too."
Kenji frowned. "What happened?"
Asagwara's mother returned to her son's side, again leaning into him. "Yes, Asagwara, what's happened to you?" She brushed tears off her cheek, and then... brushed them off his.
"Mum," he sighed; he was taken aback by his ability to cry that he had merely assumed had been taken from him along with his eyes. "I'm part of a revived species called the Wedhn." After explaining much of what had been previously explained to M by various others, he added, "Since I failed my test, Duygu stole the source of my power, my eyes - yes, I'm blind - so that they could control me themselves. The Gift is now theirs. I am merely... the puppet. But eventually I shall join the fallen in the Rock."
"The what?" Kasa grasped his hand more tightly. "What Rock?"
Asagwara subconsciously touched the spaces where his silver eyes should have been, but his fingers only felt hard stone. "The Rock is a room where Duygu keeps their trophies. Once they are done with a puppet, they dispose of them there, allowing them to transform fully into stone. You see, Wedhn power is not meant to be handled by Duygu... so it becomes progressively weaker in their paws. Eventually they will lose control of me." He tried to pass the seriousness of his words off with a shrug. "It's already happening. But as I get myself back, the stone grows faster. Duygu set a curse on the Gift so that this will occur, and so that they will get everything they want, even if it is limited. There are billions of humans to steal from, anyway..."
Kasa let out a sob and hugged her son. She opened her mouth to attempt to speak, but, not seeing her, Kenji piped up nervously. "I don't mean to be insensitive. I j-just, uh, wanted to know what those Eyes M mentioned are all about? What do they do?" He rubbed at the goosebumps popping up on his paling skin. "I didn't see them, but I remember M waking up from her faint and saying she..." He trailed off. "I suppose I didn't exactly believe her, though."
"Assuming I interpreted the king of lies' journal correctly," Asagwara said gravely, "the Eyes were created as a way to preserve Bilal's soul, emotions, and power to cut a path to the throne for Duygu. See, I believe that traditionally the ruler of Fortunia and their spouse would create two children, two heirs, and that the one given a male name would naturally inherit the throne, whether being the eldest or not." He shrugged a second time. "Sexism is alive."
"Go on..."
"When Duygu seized control of their 'father', as I shall call Bilal, they aimed to become the sole heir, to use the Eyes to grant them the king's abilities. This is because, well, the one given the female's name is deemed as inferior from birth, for one of the two heirs will be powerless. Duygu had a sibling, but they killed them from a young age in hopes to steal their power. But it didn't work, which left Bilal as the only way to become ruler, for the king could have no more children."
Kasa, her grey-brown eyes wet with grief, stared at her son, rather horrified. "Baby, how do you know all this?" She sniffed loudly. "You... you speak of murder so lightly, you -"
"Mama," Asagwara interjected, "I have spent too much time here to weep over the ancient deaths of those I never knew. I realize I was... wrong..." He paused to stare at M again, regret etched on his stony face... "I was wrong to keep some of this information from my friends. I had already snatched a history book from Val's during the first week I visited Fortunia. It spoke of the royal family and its traditions, and that was the basis for my guesses. Guesses, that's all they are, but Mama, I believe I'm right about them."
"How do we get your sight back?" Kenji put in. Kasa glanced at him, grateful to share a similar train of thought, and turned to her son, lovingly stroking his face once more.
Asagwara put a gentle hand on his mother's dark wrist to cease her movement. He pursed his lips, avoiding their gazes as he could feel them stabbing into him like pricking needles, and answered, "I don't know."
.........
M's red, puffy eyes slowly cracked open to stare blearily at the grey stone above. Her waking thought was not related to where she had been moved, but rather about Isaac.
"Isaac?" she said, and the name echoed in her mind. Then she remembered.
But her tears and run out for the moment. M's eyes were swollen and dry, refusing to produce any more water even as the girl's poor heart shriveled in grief.
"Hello again, Lyra," said Kenji shyly from her bedside. His damp black hair was matted and messy, his almond eyes squinting without his red-rimmed glasses. "That's a very pretty name. Better than M. Uh - not that anything is wrong with a nickname." He lifted his chin to stare at the ceiling at well, and then solemnly observed the rest of the cave, meeting the eyes of five other beings present as he did.
"Duygu allowed me to take you and the others for healing." It was the Sorrowturtle.
Asagwara kneeled near M and patted her brown hand warmly, telling her in a low voice, "We'll talk about it later." She nodded uncertainly, sniffling.
Kasa and Howell stood awkwardly against the wall, the oldest there asides from the Sorrowturtle. M noticed that Kasa was crying, too, and they were fresh tears. Had she missed other awful news during her sleep? M's stomach squirmed.
"I'm so sorry!" Joshie blurted, bursting into tears herself. "Lyra, I'm so so sorry, I didn't know they would take your friend! I should have come with you! I could have helped! I c-could of - I could of..." She covered her mouth with both hands and sobbed into them, filled with almost as much remorse as M was. But neither had truly done anything wrong.
"Not your fault," M mumbled. She avoided everyone's gaze as they stared her expectantly, as if thinking her a fragile art piece, waiting for her to break into pieces.
Joshie's shoulders shook as her cries became quieter, until she looked up with watery orange eyes, wobbling by her friend's bed. "W-we've got some-somethin' to t-t-tell you, too, L-lyra."
"Is someone else hurt?" M shrank with fear, immediately assuming the worst though she did not speak this out loud. Her skin was tingling, and her muscles stiffened, and like a wild, rapid river her blood ran cold. Kasa's flesh was shining with sweat; M thought she heard her muttering to herself as she played nervously with her own fingers. Then she turned to Asagwara, who was certainly worse for wear. He was now clutching the arm he had landed on when Duygu had thrown him across the cave, wincing in pain that it seemed he had only just realized was there. He would not look at her either, but she saw something of melancholy in his stony face. Howell and Kenji were both very somber.
Finally, Kasa answered, and not without a tone of reluctance and grief. "C-come on with me, M, if you're up to it. My... my s-s-son and I have had a bit of a - an u-upset." She left the Mouse's side, brushing past the Sorrowturtle, whose head had retreated well into her shell, and seized the girl's hand to help her off the bed.
"You haven't had more of an upset than I," M said stiffly, retracting her hand. Her weary eyes swollen and aching, she followed the woman out nonetheless. Kasa was looking even more sorrowful as she abandoned the warm safety of the healing cave, into the confusing maze of underground tunnels through Fortunia. After but a moment's hesitation, Kasa motioned M forward and trudged solemnly down a pathway.
"I-I... I hope you'll understand that I'm not showing you this because I think it'll make you feel like you have someone t-that... t-t-that, well, has just gone through the same shock as you have." Kasa blinked back tears, and M found herself doing the same as her heart plummeted down to her stomach again. "Asag-Asagwara and I learned of this r-room called... called t-t-the R-r-r-rock." The woman gulped loudly. "F-from a book. It's... it's w-where that D-d-duygu keeps their trophies, y-yeah?"
M wiped her eyes and raised her eyebrows. "Trophies?"
They turned a corner into a darker, thinner tunnel less populated by Fortunian critters scampering about. The only creatures they passed were Jallap beetles like Guinea - where is Guinea? M thought - and they twittered like tiny birds as they passed by.
"Yes," Kasa whispered grimly. "I'd call t-them more of abysmal h-h-horrors."
M frowned.
After what had been no more than half an hour of traveling through the maze, Kasa stopped in her tracks, pointing with a trembling finger to an entrance that was crammed inconspicuously in a corner so that shadows fell across it. M nearly ran into her, but forgot to mumble her apologies as the curtain caught her attention: black as night, yet somehow appearing transparent and solid simultaneously, with gold flecks shimmering vaguely across it like tiny stars. It was an entrance that didn't attract immediate attention, and if one were to notice it, they would have no desire to go in. M felt a shiver of fear at the mystery of it. She couldn't imagine anything good being behind that curtain, with the way it blended into the darkness.
"What's in there?" asked M. She didn't want to know, though.
"C-come on," Kasa invited her, gesturing urgently. When M froze in her tracks, the woman seized her wrist once more and led her inside, brushing past the velvety curtain that slid silkily over M's shoulder as they did.
It took a moment for the girl's eyes to adjust to the darkness; even though it was as much underground as Fortunia was and M was long used to the lighting, this cave was much, much, darker. There were no brightly colored jewels embedded in the walls to serve both as decorative and useful. Instead, gems that glowed dully gold at the points where wall met floor lined the room, just illuminating the tens of figures standing inside, waiting for them.
M squealed as she at last saw how many people were there already, leaping a good few inches in the air in her surprise. "K-k-k-k-kasa! W-we're n-n-not al-alo-alone!"
"Yes, we are," Kasa told her softly, touching M's shoulder. "Just look closer. Don't... don't be afr-afraid."
The girl, despite her most insistent instincts, decided to trust Kasa. Walking slowly forward, her hands slightly in front of her to guide her way, M approached the nearest figure that was posed silently without moving, with his hands shoved in his pockets and his head bowed. She tapped his arm nervously; but he didn't move a muscle. She tapped again - the man was completely, impossibly still, apparently insensitive to her touch. "Hello? S-sir?" she stammered. M felt something was wrong. She squinted, with all her might, trying to make out his handsome young face in the dim light. When she could finally see him, she jumped again.
His skin was grey, tough, and cold... Even his clothes were hard as rock. The poor man was nothing more, simply, than stone.
M stepped back, shaking as much as Kasa. That poor, poor man indeed... Who was he? Did he have a family? Did they know he was here? What if they didn't, and in their world, one day, he had just disappeared without a trace? Did they think he'd abandoned them? Tears sprung to the girl's eyes in her sympathy for him.
"I know," said Kasa quietly. She pushed M gently in another direction, and she surrendered, feeling numb, as if she were lost in a void.
The cave was much larger than M had initially thought, and they passed statue after statue after statue as they came closer to the distant back corner. She saw a woman with her hair drawn tightly into a ponytail, frozen in time with an expression of agitation wrinkling her face. Another, younger woman had her arms crossed, her face turned as if unable to look at someone talking to her. A little boy with extremely curly hair that was odd in stone form was sitting, subdued, on the floor, his grey body motionless and solemn and sad. M went past another seven statues before she realized how much it hurt to view them and kept her bowed like the man she had first observed; she couldn't bear to look at another pair of those cold, dull, lifeless eyes staring at something they could no longer see.
Finally, Kasa halted M and nodded grimly towards one of the last statues, shoved in a dusty corner where he was barely visible. It seemed purposeful.
Even in the terrible light, M could see that Kasa was crying again; even more so, she could hear her. The girl tried not to imagine what the mother and son had discovered here to upset them so badly, and yet before she really saw who the statue was she knew.
She didn't need to ask.
It was a man of average height, his wavy hair stiff on his head, his frown permanently etched on his mouth. His left arm was in front of him, his fingers outstretched towards the entrance to the Rock. M wondered what he had been reaching for before he'd been so carelessly shoved into the room with the rest of Duygu's horrific trophies. What she wondered more, however, was how Erhiaganoma Nenge had come to be in Fortunia with his son.
"He was a Wedhn, too," M whispered, drawing a strangely icy breath in her shock.
"Is one, is," sobbed Kasa. She stood for a moment, her hands over her eyes, before she threw her arms around her lover's neck and cried further into his stony shoulder. M was naturally moved by the scene, and, feeling her face grow warm and her throat tighten for what must have been the umpteenth time in the past week, she rubbed her own eyes furiously and would not allow herself to cry too.
"I'm sorry," M apologized, for she was, and she hugged Kasa from behind. She felt unwilling tears dampen the woman's shirt and pulled back, wiping her eyes again and again, not wanting her to see.
Kasa sniffled. She couldn't keep her grey-brown eyes off of Erhiaganoma, but everything expressed in them told anyone watching that she wanted nothing more than to get away. "No, I'm sorry. I thought you should know he was here for some reason, like you needed something more to be concerned about... O-oh, M, I don't mean for you to sympathize with me!" wailed Kasa suddenly, squeezing the girl's limp hand which rested by her side. "Please, there's no need! I can't imagine h-how you're feeling, no, I can't, and I've been so s-s-selfish as to shove this in your face..."
"Stop it." M started leading Kasa forward to the way out again, and held up her trembling brown hand. "You're not selfish. Thank you for showing me. I..." Her lower lip quivered at the thought of his name, Isaac's name, and she couldn't go on. She could see his pale, pure face, his bright green eyes sparkling with laughter, his reddish blond hair tousled carelessly, and the image yanked violently at her heartstrings. M didn't feel any sort of resentment towards Kasa, no, for she wasn't that kind of person. Erhiaganoma's good as dead anyhow, M thought bitterly, her hatred directed clearly to Duygu and rest of that vile beast's servants. It's not much different than... than Isaac. 'Cept Kasa can still see her best friend in one piece. M thought she would burst into tears at that last awful bit, but she was now feeling more anger than grief. In fact, she no longer believed the person she loved was dead at all. It had to be trickery, deceit, a big, fat, lie! M was suddenly consumed in the whole conspiracy that Duygu would be wicked enough to have faked the situation, only wishing to see M hurt and broken without actually killing Isaac.
Now how did that make sense?
Inside her brain, M stomped the question into the figurative dirt. Isaac wasn't dead, really! That was it! He simply... simply... He simply couldn't be!
"I can see you're furious," Kasa murmured, touching M's cheek. The girl's train of thought, which had been moving dangerously fast along the tracks, was derailed. "When I saw Erhi I didn't believe it. But my stage of denial was over quite, quite fast, mostly because of the one truth before me in this huge mess of a lie: that my son is turning into the exact same thing." She stroked M's face, much like she had Asagwara's, as if M were her second child.
"Isaac can't be gone," M hissed, and she stormed towards the entrance, serving as an exit for her, and leaving Kasa behind with the stone figure of the man she'd once loved.
Asagwara's mother ran to catch up with her, narrowly avoiding toppling over several statues. Thankfully she made it out without damaging anything, and came to M's side, breathing heavily. "M," she panted, clutching her side. "M, now, don't get started on that." The woman's face became hard, and her uncharacteristically stern expression frightened the girl in her wild storm of emotions.
"Don't get started on what?!" she cried indignantly. She backed away. "Having hope?! Thinking maybe my best friend is really alive?! Don't you want Erhiaganoma to be alive?" M spun around, kicking the wall in her fury, and she hobbled farther down the tunnel without looking to see if Kasa was following. M didn't care. She didn't care if anything more happened, because Isaac was all that mattered and she needn't worry about him anymore. Nothing mattered. It didn't.
M was soon aware of a second bare of footsteps near her, matching her brisk stride, but she kept her head bowed. She watched her black-laced boots moving quickly across the uneven grey rock, gradually getting covered in the dust she was kicking up. These were less-used passageways, was one thing she could guess confidently. That didn't matter, either, though, since she didn't care if she got caught.
Maybe she'd be better off if a Mouse showed up to rip her into pieces.
As the gemstones lining the walls began to be more frequently green, M knew she was headed in the right direction. She hadn't planned at all on returning to the Sorrowturtle's cave, see; who she really desired to speak with now was the kind Teahdee Ehmohree.
At last coming upon the heavy orange curtain that M was certain covered the entrance to the cave that Ehmohree and his apprentice shared, she rapped the wall as Dehllah had a few days ago. There was no response. She knocked again.
Still, nothing. Feeling only slightly guilty with the way the cogs in her brain were spinning madly, M threw aside the curtain and marched in. "Ehmohree!" she called. "Ehmohree?" It appeared, to her dismay, that the Teahdee was occupied elsewhere at the very moment she needed him. But - on the brighter side - one of the first things M noticed was a salad bowl sitting by its lonesome on the table. It was practically overflowing with greens, a great serving of fresh cold lettuce brought from who-knows-where, topped with ripe red cherry tomatoes and cucumber slices and delightful bits of cheese and carrots. M knew nothing of the Fortunian gardens at that time and couldn't care less where the food came from, anyhow.
Eager to uncover the cupcake below the healthy meal - for how could a cupcake not make her feel better? - M shoved some of the fruit in her mouth, realizing her hunger, and tossed the rest onto the surface. She'd almost expected not to find a cupcake, with how her week was going, but, there it was at the bottom. Perhaps that's how it is, M thought, peeling away the wrapper. You'll only find the real good parts of life if you get through the bad stuff first.
Of course, this wasn't a truly accurate statement, on M's part, for she quite loved a decent salad. It raised her spirits just a tad, nonetheless.
M bit into the chocolate cupcake and was instantly cheered up even more. The fudge-y deliciousness swirled through her mouth, down her throat, and warmed her heart even in its evident state of being room temperature. Another bite, and the icing left a sort of mustache on her lip, so M happily licked it off. She couldn't think of any better dessert for her right then.
Full and distracted, M glanced around the cave; she wondered where Ehmohree had got to. She peered into his bedroom and saw his bed and a green blanket, even a few books, but not him. The lavatory and Joshie's room were the same: purely Teahdee-less. M had not given up yet, however, and due to that an idea struck her after a moment.
"The Bright Land!" she breathed. "Duh!" M glanced up to the ceiling in the dining room... She couldn't remember how Ehmohree had showed her the tunnel. Maybe if she just...?
Luckily for M, sticking her hand up the ceiling with some courage seemed to do the trick fine. It must have been rather simple Mouse magic; then again, what servant of Duygu's would go patting cave ceilings in search of secret tunnels? The girl nearly giggled at the image she'd summoned in her head, but picturing Duygu in consequence put the pit right back in her stomach. The effects of the cupcake faded very fast after that.
M used a chair to stand on and help her into the tunnel, hoisting herself upwards with strength she didn't know she still had. Once in the tunnel, M paused in a rest hole to think. Could she even make it all the way up to the outside world again by herself? Was Ehmohree out there at all? If he wasn't, what was she to do? M couldn't go back to Kasa, Joshie, Asagwara, Kenji, Howell, and the Sorrowturtle now. Not yet, at least.
She hoped Kasa wasn't angry with her.
After some thought, M began the treacherous climb to the Bright Land. She pulled herself slowly, agonizingly slowly, to each rest hole, stopping every time. The dirt was slippery, and with her fingers perspiring nervously she didn't have much assistance. Soil fell on her face and stung her eyes, pebbles dislodged themselves and scratched her skin, but M didn't, wouldn't, couldn't give up. She didn't think she'd ever desired to speak to someone more than she did right now... well, more than one person.
It must have been a good hour before M was rolling onto autumn grass. It was such an enormous relief to be in her own world again, that she didn't immediately notice something was different.
It wasn't anything alarming; and as if M needed anymore alarm. There was merely... a change, one might say, in the air. It was then that M realized with a jolt that it was October. Of course! Fall was really settling in now, as the greens were no longer so green and the sun shone not quite so bright. M loved this season best of all four, for multiple reasons, though they didn't make her happy at the moment. One of the first reasons for her favoritism was that her birthday was in the fall, and, in fact, it was coming up rather soon.
She'd be thirteen years old... a teenager.
M teared up thinking about how this would be her first birthday in years without Isaac. And if her parents were coming home like they'd promised, what if they were there now? What if they were worried sick about her? What if M, unable to return home herself, was being searched for by police as a missing person? What if she had to -
The girl gulped and shook her head. She positioned herself, flat on her belly, lying on the dying grass, crinkling stray dried leaves in her hand. She certainly didn't want to think about spending her transition into becoming a teenager stuck in Fortunia. It didn't help to remember that all her new friends were stuck there with her, either.
M recalled her purpose for coming up the tunnel to the "Bright Land" and sat up, searching the grounds for any sign of a strange winged horselike creature. But alas, all in her field of vision were trees, shrubbery, grass, flowers, and buildings. Looking at the glistening trees, which were dropping leaves of grand colors into the quiet breeze, M felt a sense of peace. She took a few minutes to allow her mind to drift away down an imaginary lazy river, bobbing on the surface as crisp leaves of gold, orange, red, and brown floated along with her. The water lapped gently at her skin, the perfect temperature, and the sun glowing jubilantly yellow through puffy white clouds warmed her bones. M's creativity was kind enough to conjure a few animals into the river with her, ducks and geese and small turtles swimming with her. Quack, went the ducks, and honk, went the geese, but the turtles just smiled at her. Watching the animals, M was reminded of her puppy Tully, and she wished he were here with her. Right on cue he appeared sitting on her stomach, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth as he breathed in the delightful autumn air. M was comforted by the sight of him, even if in this situation he was but a figment of her yearning imagination. The scene was beautiful; if only it were reality.
"You made it up safely," a voice behind her said. "I'm impressed." M turned around to see who could possibly be in the water with her, but in doing so the false world dissipated and she saw a familiar green Teahdee really standing there.
"Ehmohree!" smiled M. However great her relief and joy was at seeing him, her grin cracked. Tears streamed down her face and she rushed forward to embrace him as best she could, wrapping her arms around his slender neck and hoping she wouldn't offend him terribly if she cried on him. Teahdeean were supposed to be proud animals, after all, weren't they?
The Teahdee frowned empathetically down on her head of black hair and rubbed her shoulder lightly with his dark hoof. "My, sweet Wedhn child, what is the matter?" M knew right away that she had been right in coming to him. She retold the entire story, from when she had left him in his cave to when she had run desperately from Kasa, and all the while he listened patiently. At the end, his kind green face was pale and creased with worry.
"I-I don't k-kn-know what I'm meant t-to do now!" sobbed M, clinging to him tighter still. She could feel his calmly beating heart beneath his furry chest, and it soothed her. It was nearly like having her mother there again; that is, if Ehmohree weren't a male. "I w-w-wa-w-want Isa-Isaac!"
The Teahdee looked prepared to cry himself, but instead he closed his eyes, his long eyelashes forming thin shadows across his snout, and lowered his voice to an unnecessary whisper. It was a gust of soft breeze that blew away into the cloudy blue sky as soon as the words had parted from his lips. "You are absolutely right, my dear, to have hope." M blinked wetly and stared at him with her sorrowful violet eyes. Ehmohree sighed, a deep, deep sigh.
"When will I see him again?" In her own whisper M was able to control her stammer. She felt her flushed brown face with her fingers and moved the black strands of hair off of her trembling pink lips, wanting to believe that the Teahdee did not merely think her a childish fool. Yet his expression was genuine.
Ehmohree backed away a few steps, giving the girl some room. He bowed his great green head so that a few of his own salty tears dropped onto the ground, and sank quickly into the soil. "Loss is a wicked thing," he murmured, keeping his eyes down, "for none such as yourself deserve to experience it."
"What are you d-doing?" whispered M. She wiped away the last of her tears roughly so that her eyes became pink and dry. It seemed so unlike a Teahdee to shed tears of his or her own that M rather thought it must be an illusion. She couldn't imagine Dehllah doing such a thing; she doubted Dehllah would care about Isaac's death, or any human's death.
Once ten or so more moments had gone by, Ehmohree raised his head again. He pawed at the dirt anxiously, making a bit of grass uproot itself, a few dying summer's flowers bend severely, and crunching the beautiful fallen leaves. "Lyra, child," he began. "Lyra, do not think I do not feel extreme sorrow at the loss you have suffered so recently. But I do want you to remember what others you know have gone through, too. You shall see what I mean, I'm certain, in time. In the meantime I would recommend finding Guinea."
"H-h-how do you know about him?"
Ehmohree tilted his head. "Why, my darling girl, we Teahdeean know much more than you believe! I wish I could tell you what I suspect. I... I wish I could offer more help; you will never know how much I truly appreciate you coming to me, when there were so many other possibilities at hand."
"I thought you'd understand me," M muttered. She was disappointed, to say the most, if truth be told. For at the same time an overwhelming sense of curiosity at the Teahdee's intentions had come over her and what she longed for most now that she could get was another distraction.
"Perhaps 'Distorted Truth' could be of assistance to you," recommended Ehmohree, and winked, though did not grin. M watched in amazement as she saw him unfold his handsome butterfly wings, spread them wide, and raise them for liftoff. The sun rays were glinting impressively off of the patterns, and M was nearly sure he'd meant it to be this way. And with light dancing beautifully across his body, the Teahdee gave a great flap of his sizable wings and took off at a running start, and M thought she saw him flash a slight smile in her direction. He galloped across the field at the speed of a race car, sending brilliant leaves flying in all directions so they fell again from the sky like rain; he was gone so abruptly into the distance that M practically felt she'd imagined it all, and only reassured herself of her sanity as she glimpsed a final speck of green by the colorful horizon.
M plopped down on the grass once more, because although she was curious she didn't feel much like climbing down a dark, dusty, and dirty tunnel. "Maybe there's a way home from here," she suggested to herself aloud, but she knew it was stupid. She didn't have fare for a bus or any other transportation, and she couldn't walk to La Cuvette even with direction. She'd never wanted to be at her house more, either.
M thought about it for a long while, just at peace with herself lazing away outside. She didn't notice or care as the sun drifted slowly towards the west, nor did she care as the sky began to darken and stars revealed themselves in the absence of that light that outshined them during the day. Only when fantastic purples, blues, pinks, greens, oranges, and yellows stretched across the area where Ehmohree had vanished did M realize that night was falling, and she could most definitely not make her way safely to her friends in Fortunia without proper outside lighting. But she didn't panic; instead, M thought about her Isaac as she gazed solemnly at the gorgeous colors of sunset, and prayed a silent prayer. She hadn't properly prayed for a couple years; it felt strangely good if unfamiliar. Nonetheless, the practice was not lost to her and M prayed, that if there was a God out there, that He bring Isaac safely back to her alive and okay, and that it was all a trick and he wasn't gone at all. It wasn't a formally structured prayer or anything but M agreed with herself that it suited her purposes just fine. She was thankful that she'd run out of tear supply.
And so M listened to the crickets sing their merry song, tried not to shiver in the chilly autumn wind, and occasionally flicked bugs off her arms and legs. She didn't mind them so much anymore, though, not since she'd met Guinea. The grass began to feel cold, prickly, and uncomfortable beneath her bare limbs, so after a period spent trying to sleep there with no blanket M gave up. She moved from rock to tree to rock to plain dirt patch various times till she could feel herself begin to drift off as slowly as the sun had, and her eyelids refused to stay open, so M hardly needed to worry about how comfortable she was anymore. She thought with confidence that she was at peace - though wrong she was - and that was a contributing factor to what happened next.
M curled herself up amongst a patch of scraggly trees in the end, happy to have a private space where she hopefully needn't worry about discovery. The leaves floated through the air to land on her stomach; M picked each one up and shredded it, discarding the pieces on the soil and counting the leaves like sheep as she carried out the murders. She was so, so very tired, and so sore, so sad, that she didn't believe it mattered if she slept.
"Dear God," she mumbled again. Something about a second time felt extra lucky. "Please don't take Isaac from me because he's my best friend and I'll die without him. Not to be blunt. Amen."
M slept.
That night, twisted dreams slithered through M's mind in a deep but painful sleep, dreams that did not all belong to her - though she was not aware of this. The dreams writhed and curled around her, squeezing the breath from her lungs like a snake suffocating its prey. Someone looking down on M would've seen her eyes snapped tightly shut, her lips and fingers twitching, and her body rolling over from left to right and back again in panic brought on by figments of hers and others' imagination.
The first fragment of dream that blurred then sharpened before her was like being suddenly shot by a bullet: reality hit. Except... it wasn't real... was it? M squirmed in her sleep as from her perspective, she entered a room through a door of a sort of neutral shade to find a large, frightening white man waiting for her. She shrunk back, but he was grinning in a foul sort of way, and he had a sharp silver knife in his hand, the blade gleaming.
"Come 'ere, boy," the man growled, in a low voice that was both distant as hearing someone shout from afar, and as close as feeling their hot breath on her ear. M's world swayed. She stepped forward, not knowing why, trying to keep her balance as the grimy wooden floor tipped precariously under her feet.
Once M was within a foot of him, the man reached out to seize her wrist. He shoved her to the floor and pummeled her, his fists coming down hard on her young body as she cowered with her hands over her head. Bruises were quickly blossoming on her arms, on her back... M rolled over, helpless, and not knowing why she was not running away. She merely sprawled out there, whimpering, for several minutes as her attacker thoughtfully stroked his weapon.
The huge man, his face white and stubbly but unfocused so she did not recognize him, yanked her up again and brought her own face much too close to his again. His hands touched places they should not have, felt what they should not have, and the whole time M could do nothing except stand there and let him. His hands were cold and unwelcome on her skin, sending chills through her bones. Her heart was racing, sweat trickling down her neck and chest and forehead, and she desired to hit the man, to get him away from her. But all she saw was the blade now shining in her face... pressing against her neck... she shrieked as droplets of blood bubbled from the fresh cut...
A person knocked loudly on the door, twisting the knob, trying to get in, but it was locked. "Let me in! Let me in!" she screamed, until the big white man had pushed M roughly onto the bed in the room and gone to unlock it. The woman, her face blurred as well, rushed to M's side and hugged her. "Why was the door locked?" she demanded of the man. "You told me always to keep them open, keep them open so I'd know if my boy was going to have one of the 'fits' you keep telling me he has! What did he do?" She looked at him, glared at him, and it seemed to M that she knew very well what the man had done to her... but fear struck the woman's eyes and she turned away. The man smirked triumphantly, and M felt sick inside... as if nothing would ever be good again...
The girl was whisked from this world to another, where this time she truly could not move. She observed the room in front of her... The Rock, M thought; she had, just for a moment, regained awareness of who she was and what was happening. But she quickly slipped back into the dream and knew not that it was one. She could still feel shivers racing down her spine, and unconsciously reached protectively towards the forbidden areas that the wicked man had touched. Yet she could not... and in a few heartbeats she realized her own stony arm was stretched motionless in front of her, reaching for something, someone, with dead fingers. M was only in this realm for a short minute and disappeared into black abyss once more.
Another new world... she was bolting into that same room where she had been attacked not so long ago, but from the perspective of the woman who had embraced her. This was a different occurrence, it seemed, as she had just heard panicked shouts that echoed alarmingly in her mind, and she thrust open the door to see what she wished she could unsee.
The broad white man from before had stripped his victim of all clothes but undergarments, and was beating him with a vigor that M had not quite experienced in her first dream. She shrieked and ran at the man, trying to get him away from her child, and hit him hopelessly with her own fists, but he pushed her down with ease. She landed on the floor, hearing her head crack painfully on the boards, but thankfully had not been severely damaged. M leaped back up, shouting curses at the evil beast, until he had been distracted enough to turn his fists to her and the poor, bruised child retreated from the room with his discarded clothes in hand; she heard the front door slam behind him as he departed.
"At least now he's safe from you!" she yelled at the man, running outside as well, and M only ran into a fourth dream. How many times she would be transported so abruptly like this, she did not know... but she hoped not to see that man ever again.
She was outside, sitting on cool and prickly green grass, watching a young girl with long red hair talk with two adults. After a brief wait she turned from them and came to plop herself down next to M.
"Mama says since I'm thirteen," she boasted proudly, "I get to babysit you when she and Papa are away."
"No fair!" M found herself saying back. "I'm ten years old and I can take care of myself and plus also Mama and Papa are my real parents, and you're not my real sister."
The girl fell silent. She came into focus and through M's glasses she could see her blue eyes sparkling with tears. She sniffled and wiped them bravely away. "How could you say that to me?" she whispered. The girl didn't care much about babysitting anymore, after such an insult. She opened her mouth to add something else but instead burst into tears, and ran to her parents again.
"You're not my real sister," M murmured to herself again. "I should be an only child. It's not fair Mama and Papa 'dopted you 'fore I was born." She repeated the first line to herself until she was being hoisted up by a short woman with black hair and glasses like hers, and she could tell by the expression that the lady was angry, but her words were muffled.
The world faded out.
M entered her fifth dream and knew immediately, somehow, that it was the last one. She was back inside, sitting in a bedroom cuddling a stuffed dog. Two more adults came in and sat down with her. She could tell this was a serious conversation.
"Now you know you're a Hafner," the female of the pair said.
"Of course she knows that, Cassie," the man reminded her gently. She ignored him and placed a hand on M's knee.
"You have to remember that you're growing up, honey. No time for toys or play anymore!" The woman made an unenthusiastic grab for the stuffed dog, but M pulled it closer to her chest, thinking the kidnap attempt to be serious. "Your father and I got married very young and neither of us think we reached our full potential at Meißen. We don't need you making the same mistake. So don't be marrying any men in the next decade, hear?"
M rolled her eyes. "Never. I know, Mum, I know! Good grades, good health, and you'll have all the wealth. I've heard it plenty." The man shook his head.
"We were reviewing your report card," Cassie began in a tone suggesting a warning coming on. "And -"
"Yeah, I got a B+ in Science! Big deal, Mum! I'm not perfect, okay?"
"We expect you to be." The lady's thin blonde eyebrows raised high on her creased forehead.
M's heart sank and with it, so did the realm. It dissipated into black one final time, and for the rest of the night M dreamed only of her Isaac.