The World Turned Upside Down

For the second time tonight, I’m woken by a white flash, ringing ears and a sharp pain through my body. At first, I thought the headaches were coming back, but just like before, my vision clears, the ringing stops, and the pain — a shrill, chilling, paralysing pain that plucks at my nerves like a harp — it all fades away as soon as I open my eyes. It’s like waking up from a nightmare that I can’t remember, which has happened before, but rarely, and never this intense.

I hug myself and glance about the room. It’s quiet and dark, but I can see the details well enough; there’s my bag, the table, the cup of water I still haven’t touched, the armchair, the hearth, the bedroom door, the kitchen archway, and the open window. No monsters in the rafters, no malicious figures in the corners. Everything is where it should be.

Except for me. No, I’m a long, long way from where I should be.

I heave a ragged breath and lie down again. I’m beginning to think I shouldn’t have glossed over any details in my story, no matter how crazy I’d have seemed, because she’d know a lot more about what’s happening to me than I ever could. Or at least, I hope she would.

That being said, she’d probably knock me out cold if I woke her up, so I keep quiet and try to calm myself as quickly as possible. In her words, she doesn’t do therapy, and I doubt she’d be willing to start her career now.

I look back to the window and the sky outside. How Amber can tell the time without a clock, I don’t know, but I’ve a feeling that it’s nowhere near midnight. A watched pot never boils, but I might not have much of a choice; unless I find something to do for the next… umpteen hours, I’ll simply drift off again. And when that happens, I bet my sanity that I’ll have another episode.

Maybe some fresh air would do me some good. I’m not sure how, but it’s worth a shot, and if it works for lengthy car rides, why not a remote cottage in a parallel universe?

With another sigh, I fling the blanket off and try to stand, only to find out that the bench is actually a bit lower than what I’m used to. I guess that makes sense, considering it’s meant for someone that much shorter than me, but it makes standing up without bending my bad knee that much harder.

Eventually, though, and with no small amount of pain and hissing, I haul myself to my feet and limp for the kitchen. Amber must have closed and locked the door at some point while she was cooking, but with a slide of the latch and a pull of the handle, the problem is remedied, and I can step outside.

Surprisingly, the night air is cool, but not chilly. It’s… amiable, like the sun, and the fact that I’ve never seen a night with such clarity only makes it feel even more so. Sure, the colours are darker, but I can see the gentle sway of trees in the distance, the petals of a dandelion by my foot, the slight bumps on the house’s exterior, even the wrinkles of my knuckles, and the hairs on the back of my hand. The moon is full and bright, and twinkling dots pack the sky.

I marvel at them. I’ve never seen stars like these. Never so many. Never so clear. Never so bright. And I’ve never seen them twinkle before, in spite of all the story books and nursery rhymes. Granted, I’m not much of an astronomer, so I can’t say for certain, but they’ve never twinkled for me. Never. Some were bigger, some were smaller, as they are now, but they never twinkled. Not like this.

It’s fantastic. In a literal sense. To me, it’s…

What’s the word?

Estranging, I think.

Did I get it wrong? Had I lied to Amber again? Is my theory of another dimension false, and instead, I’d fallen through a wormhole that sent me untold billions of lightyears away? Is my Earth up there, somewhere? Out of reach to all but the brave few and a thousand litres of rocket fuel?

How do I know? I’m just a dumb kid with a busted leg.

I cover my mouth as a yawn interrupts me, thankfully, and I use it as an excuse to shake myself down, then stretch my back, my shoulders, my arms and fingers. When that’s done, I crack my knuckles, my wrists, my elbows, my neck, and then, finally, my good knee, and I groan with relief. Bad habit or not, it feels good, and I’m much more relaxed because of it. So relaxed that I actually want to do something, instead of contemplating the reality in which I find my miserable self. I could go for a walk, or… go for a walk.

So, a walk it is. Just a short one, though — I’ve had enough hiking for one day.

I turn to my right and start making my way around the cottage, taking it slow, both for my sake and the sake of wasting time.

Everything seems louder when it’s quiet; the dry grass underfoot, the chirping of crickets and cicadas, the clothes rubbing against my skin. It feels like Amber could wake up any second with all the noise I’m making. I know she won’t, but the thought of facing her in all her fury gives me cause for concern, and I tread lightly. More than I am already, at any rate — I’ve stepped on enough bees and burs to know I shouldn’t be walking outside barefoot. But if I go back inside and search for my shoes, I’d have to move some things, and that’ll surely attract unwanted attention. And pain.

I pause for a moment. How did she get my sneakers off, anyway? With her mouth and… hooves, obviously, but still, how? I mean, laces are thin and floppy, requiring finely tuned motor skills — to which my five-year-old self could attest — and I always use a double-knot, meaning twice the challenge. I can’t imagine those feet being easy to see past, especially if she was focussing on something so small, and using her teeth seems counterintuitive, being so close to her eyes.

Then again, she could have just pulled them off. That sounds like her style.

I blink and continue walking, keeping a watchful eye on the grass for any thorns, insects, spiders, or who knows what else that would love to make their mark on my list of grievances. I glance up every now and then to check my surroundings. I’m not looking for anything in particular; I’m just bored. It’s like how I check the pantry every five minutes when there’s nothing to do at home: I know there’ll be nothing new, but there’s always the slim chance a stack of my favourite chocolate chip biscuits will have suddenly appeared.

In this case, I don’t know what I’m hoping to find. A car? A phone booth? A five-star hotel? Silly little things, perhaps. Things I’m not lucky enough to have. Not anymore.

And that’s when it hits me. Why I feel the way I feel.

It’s not because I’m far away from home.

It’s not because I might never see my family again.

It’s because, somehow, deep down…

I thought I was special.

Protected.

Safe.

…How wrong was I…

And then, suddenly, the world tears itself apart. The air vibrates like I’m standing inside a giant bell as it tolls, but there’s no sound. I can feel it in my hands, my feet, my stomach, my heart, my lungs, my ears, my bones… Everything. Every part of me. It shakes me to the literal core. And it feels like an anvil is falling into me. Squirming into me. Drilling into me. Ripping into me. Like a volcano in reverse.

And all of this in the blink of an eye.

I drop to my hands and knees and retch uncontrollably. Nothing comes out, and yet I cough and gag and lurch, snatching breaths if and when I can. And when I finally regain some semblance of control, I rest my head on the grass and shut my eyes, desperately gasping for air.

Something’s not right. Something is most definitely not right. Not just with me, but this condition I have, if I can even call it that. It doesn’t feel natural — it’s too… temperamental. I mean, first headaches and now severe vertigo, or whatever that was? Why couldn’t this sickness make up its mind? And where’d it come from anyway? I haven’t had anything before Amber’s soup, or since, and her cooking wasn’t that bad. I haven’t been bitten by anything either, or…

I rub my neck, belly and back, just in case, but find nothing. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad, but I’ll take it at face value and say it’s good. It’s all I’d have going for me at this point. That, and the fact I have a place to stay.

The pain in my knee returns and I roll onto my back and straighten my legs, gazing up at the sky as I catch the rest of my breath. I doubt the stars are the same here, but I wish I knew my constellations, just so I could… I don’t know, waste time trying to find them. Find some new ones instead. Name them. Have Amber correct me in the morning. Keep using my names for the heck of it. Probably not that last one, though, no matter how light-hearted I try to be.

After a while, my breathing returns to normal, and I feel happy. I don’t know why, but I do. Even as I hear footsteps approaching, I stare up at the sky and grin. “Sorry to wake you,” I say airily, knowing full well that no apology would ever curb her wrath.

“Oh, hardly,” comes an older, smoother, more refined voice.

My grin fades and I sit up, and I find that, indeed, the footsteps don’t belong to Amber.

Another ‘pony’ stands before me, with a long, flowing mane and tail that defy explanation. It’s like they’re invisibility cloaks for everything that isn’t the night sky, carving a window through the mountains behind her, held aloft in a calm, constant breeze that doesn’t affect the physical world. Even stray hairs shimmer with light of the stars they brush over.

The pony herself looks nothing like my host. Sure, there’s the same… cartoonish look, for lack of a better word, but this one’s taller, leaner, with a longer snout, pointed horn, cyan eyes, and a coat a shade of pale pink. She also wears a crown upon her head, a decorative collar over her shoulders, and four metal slippers, all a bluish silver in colour, and embossed with floral art. Central to the collar is a purple gem in the shape of a winged heart.

She watches me with a cool, gentle expression, and beams a small, sincere smile. “I appreciate the sentiment, though.”

“…Sorry, I… thought you were someone else.”

“Oh, there’s no need to apologise — it’s my fault.”

“Yours?”

“I shouldn’t have snuck up on you like that.”

“You were trying to sneak up on me?”

“Not intentionally. Again, I’m sorry.”

“…Who are you, anyway?”

“My name is Selene Flurry Heart,” she heralds with tempered pride, shifting her weight back and bowing, spreading two massive, splendid, radiant wings with her head low to the ground. “Princess of Love and the Night. Ruler of all Equestria. At your service.”

I widen my eyes and draw my head back as my mind scrambles for something to say. I’m not sure whether to believe her or not, but… she does seem regal enough, so far as my knowledge of this world’s culture goes. But at the same time… Flurry Heart? Really? First Amber Dart, then Trail Blazer, and now Selene Flurry Heart? Why couldn’t they just use normal fantasy names, like Conan, or Xena, or Furiosa?

At this rate, finding someone called Horsey McHorseface would be a footnote.

Naming conventions aside, there’s still a conversation to be had, and Selene rises from her bow and folds her wings. “What might your name be, stranger?”

“Adam. Mackenna.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“You think it sounds weird, don’t you?”

“Perhaps. But on the other foot, I suppose my name sounds odd to you too, doesn’t it?”

I pause for a moment, and then I grin again. “More or less.”

Her smile returns in full force, and a little wider. “Then it seems we have much to discuss.”

My grin fades once more.

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” she says playfully, “it’s nothing serious. All I want to do is talk — better acquaint myself with you. You are, after all… a very unique specimen. If I may be so bold, that is.”

This time, I raise an eyebrow. “Unique how?”

“Well, there are creatures that resemble you in one way or another. Some dragons, for instance, and minotaurs, and plenty of tribes in Abyssinia, now that I think about it. But none of them are quite so… plain, so to speak. Meaning no offense, of course.”

“No, no, plain’s good.”

“Ah. Well, if you say so.”

“Trust me, being plain is… better than standing out, in my experience.”

“Really?” she asks with genuine fascination. “Perhaps you could enlighten me over dinner.”

“Dinner?”

“Dessert, rather. And something light. Tell me, does ice-cream pique your interest?”

“Uh… Yeah, I guess. But Amber doesn’t have any, and… Actually, I should go and wake her up, shouldn’t I?”

“No, thank you.”

“No?”

“No. I’d like to keep this just between us, if you don’t mind. For the time being, at least. And don’t worry about dessert; I’ll take care of everything.”

“You? How?”

She smirks, “Like so,” and closes her eyes as a yellow aura forms around her horn.

Space twists and coils on the grass before her, as if someone is using an eggbeater on the fabric of reality, and when it unwinds, it does so with a golden flash and motes of sparkling dust. In its place is an elaborately patterned picnic blanket, perfectly spread, with a glass goblet in the centre, filled with chocolate, vanilla and strawberry ice-cream, drizzled in sprinkles and caramel, and topped with a cherry for good measure.

The spectacle is over in less than half a second, and I’m left astonished.

The aura dissipates and Selene opens her eyes again, continuing the smirk. “Care to join me for a midnight snack?”

I wait a moment longer before responding, processing what I’d just witnessed. “…Wow…”

“You’re impressed?”

I dumbly nod.

“I don’t see why.”

I look up and meet her eyes. “No?”

“Summoning spells are hardly remarkable.”

“They are to me.”

“Because you’ve never seen them before?”

I shake my head.

“…Interesting…” she says, raising her chin slightly and giving me a curious look. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen any unicorns in your travels, have you?”

“Besides you, no.”

“Me?”

“You’re a unicorn, aren’t you? A… winged unicorn?”

“…In a manner of speaking. But that’s enough chitchat for now.” She strolls onto the blanket with practiced poise and sits in a familiar doglike posture, then beams at me again and waves me closer. “Come, sit.”

I obey, though not nearly as gracefully, and take my place on the opposite side of the goblet. As soon as I finish making myself comfortable, I notice an ornate spoon levitating in front of me, held in the same aura that I’d seen before, and I look back to the owner.

She holds an identical spoon in a similar aura and smiles kindly. “Just because I’m away from home doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten my manners.”

I pause. Something seems… off about this. I’m not sure what, though. It’s probably nothing — leftover jitters from the vertigo, I guess. I return the smile and reach out for the spoon I’m being offered. “Thank-yah!”

“What’s wrong?”

I massage my hand, staring down at the silverware in my lap, the aura already fizzled out. It felt like I’d been zapped by static electricity, but it didn’t exactly hurt, and it went deeper than just the skin — I can still feel the tingle in my fingers. I think I know what the problem was, but I don’t want to raise suspicion, so I glance back and mumble, “I’m not sure.”

“Hmm. Strange.”

“Strange indeed,” I quietly agree, retrieving the spoon and slowly turning it over. The handle isn’t very practical, full of yet more floral embellishments and inset gems, but I have to keep in mind that this probably isn’t meant for manual use. And there’s no denying the craftsmanship. “It’s been happening a lot, recently. Strangeness.”

“How so?”

I pause again, but shake my head and scoop out some vanilla. “Never mind.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Because, as princess, it’s my duty to listen.”

“Really, it’s fine.”

“…If you say so,” she concedes, herself to a serving of strawberry. “But I must say, denial never solves anything.”

“I’m not denying anything, I’m just… Let’s talk about something else first, at least. Please.”

“As you wish.” She pops the spoon in her mouth, and hums contentedly. “Ah, Sugar Swirl, you’ve outdone yourself.”

“Sugar Swirl?”

“My head chef. Please, try it.”

I pause for a moment, caught on yet another bizarre name, but eventually comply. And when I do, I almost melt as the ice-cream touches my tongue, and the aroma is simply delectable.

“So, what would you like to know?”

I break out of the stupor and look at Selene. “What’re you doing here?”

“Bidding you welcome, of course.”

“No, I mean… how’d you find out about me? I haven’t met anyone else besides Amber.”

The smirk returns. “Let’s just say… I have my methods.”

“…What kind of methods?”

“Methods I daren’t discuss with just anyone, however charming they may be,” she quips, treating herself to another mouthful. “Speaking of which, where do you come from, to have never heard of me before?”

I hesitate. I’m glad I was already staring at my lap, because if she’d seen my face the moment she spoke those words, I’d have been caught out. Still, I can’t just sit here and say nothing, or she’d know something’s wrong just as easily.

Using a pensive mask to hide my anxiety, I quickly run through the options in my head. I could tell the truth — or what I think the truth is — but knowing how well that went last time, I’m not too keen to try again. I could lie instead, but what would I say? The only two nations I’ve heard of so far are Equestria and Abyss…something-or-other, and I doubt I’d get away with claiming I come from either one. And even if she believed me, I’d be lying to someone who had, if not royal status, the ability to levitate and teleport objects at will.

I don’t want to risk getting on her bad side, but I don’t have much of a choice. “Humanistan,” I say, hoping it fit into this world’s frankly childish way of naming things. “I come from Humanistan.”

Selene pauses, then looks away in thought. “I don’t believe I’ve heard of your country before. No relation to Yakyakistan, by any chance?”

I catch a snicker in my nose and turn it into a cough. She looks serious, but I could be wrong — it’s hard to take anything seriously anymore with all these names. At least that Abyss place sounded pretty realistic. I clear my throat. “Sorry, excuse me. Uh… No. It’s a little… further west.”

“Across the Northern Ocean?”

“Yeah.”

“Where there is nothing but ice and water?”

“…No, there’s land there.”

“Further south.”

“Yeah, that’s… That’s what I meant.”

“And yet, I have never heard of a ‘Humanistan’ in the Land of the Hippogriffs.”

“…Well… that’s… where I’m from.”

“So, you do not, in fact, come from a land where pegasi are myths, and ponies do not talk?”

My insides sink.

Selene watches me with a grave, but not unkind expression. “I hold no love for deception, Adam Mackenna. My life has been riddled with it for far too long.”

“…How did you—”

“I have my methods.”

I swallow and turn away.

“I don't believe that you simply appeared out of nowhere,” she states, finishing another mouthful of ice-cream, “but I can’t deny that no one in Equestria, pony or otherwise, has seen you until yesterday. Else you would have sailed over a thousand miles of ocean, crossed over a hundred by land, passing one of the largest cities in the kingdom, and yet never seen a pegasus, a unicorn, an earth pony or crystal pony, or magic of any kind. And I find that highly unlikely.”

“…So, what do you believe?” I ask ashamedly.

“I believe, Adam Mackenna… that you don’t trust me. Perhaps that’s my fault, perhaps it’s yours, but until you can be honest with me… I can’t trust you. Is that fair?”

I hesitate again, but slowly nod.

“I do not wish us to be enemies.”

“Enemies?”

“In a purely melodramatic sense,” she soothes, relaxing her tone and posture. “You don’t have to tell me now, or tomorrow, but I expect the truth from you at some point in the future. For now, though, let’s eat.”

For a long while, we eat in silence. I relish the flavour and the aroma of every spoonful, each more delicious than the last, but they’re soured by an air of guilt. It feels like a treat I don’t deserve — a luxury I’m being forced to enjoy. Maybe that’s what she wants, but she seems too easy-going for that. Besides, it’s not like she made a point about it, and she’s eating from the same dish, taking larger portions, and more frequently.

If this is supposed to be a punishment, she has an odd way of making sure I know it.

In fact, I’m having a hard time imagining her being a princess. Sure, she has the lavish jewellery and a voice as sweet as honey, but none of that really counts when she’s a pink caricature of a horse with hair like something out of a special effects extravaganza. What I mean is that she doesn’t behave like I imagine royalty would. I’m not really sure what I expected, but definitely nothing this lax. This casual. This… tolerant. Not in person, at least.

“Don’t you have bodyguards, or something?”

“Yes.”

“…Well, where are they?”

“At home, in Canterlot.”

“…You mean Camelot, right?”

“No; Canterlot.” She looks at me and raises an eyebrow. “You’ve heard of it?”

I blink, then close my eyes and gently shake my head into a waiting palm. “Yes and no,” I murmur, dragging my hand down my face.

“In myths and folklore?”

“Sure.”

“Hmm.” She dips the cherry in a pool of chocolate and eats it whole, pip and all. “Well, to answer your question properly, I can handle myself well enough. Besides, your sudden appearance is a very… delicate matter, and I’d rather as few people know about it as possible. Your host is already one too many.”

“…Was that a threat?”

She stops and stares at me. The ethereal wind blowing through her mane and tail wanes, leaving her hair floating as if submerged in water. The air around her darkens, figuratively and literally. The grave look returns, and this time with no compassion. “Careful what you say, Adam Mackenna,” she warns, voice on the brink of malice. “You’ll know a threat from me when I make one.”

I widen my eyes and lean away.

Suddenly, Selene puts a foreleg to her chest and bursts out in laughter, and everything goes back to normal. Or as normal as normal can be around here. “Oh my word!” she cackles, pointing at me with the other foot. “You should have seen your face! Oh, that was priceless.”

“Y-y-yeah,” I stammer with a nervous smile. “Good one.”

Her laughter fades and both forelegs return to the blanket. “I’m sorry,” she says between giggles, “I didn’t mean to scare you. Well, I did, but… you know how it is — I can get a little carried away sometimes. You understand, don’t you?”

“…Sure…”

She clears her throat and takes a deep breath, and looks at me earnestly, although with a faint of smirk. “I’m sorry, Adam Mackenna, that was… in poor taste. You’re new to this place, and me. I shouldn’t have treated you like that. I know I can be intimidating sometimes, even when I don’t mean to be.”

“It’s… not you, per se… it’s more that I don’t want to be… you know… obliterated.”

“Yes, well,” she laughs again, but it’s more restrained, “you’re not the first, I will admit.”

“Please don’t tell me it’s a regular thing with you.”

“Joking or obliteration?”

“Either.”

Her smile widens. “For you, I’ll make an exception.”

Hesitantly, I smile back. I can tell she’s being sincere, but I can’t shake the feeling that she can be quite dangerous when she needs to. A wolf is a wolf, after all, no matter how tame. I’m not trying to say she’s evil, but not knowing the extent of her powers doesn’t help me in the slightest.

“I doubt I’d be able to anyway, if your tales of valour ring true.”

“Sorry?”

“The creature you saw in the woods yesterday.”

“The… cockatrice?”

“Yes,” she replies, sipping a spoonful of strawberry. “Can you describe it for me?”

“Yeah, um… Chicken’s head… scaly body and tail… two wings… red eyes, red crest, red spikes. Stared at me a lot, but I guess you knew that. Uh… That’s pretty much it. Oh, and it, um… may or may not have looked a little surprised when it didn’t scare me off.”

“So, you already know?”

“Know what?”

“It should have turned you to stone.”

“…Excuse me?”

She gives me a serious look. “The stare of a cockatrice is a potent thing. None but those of the strongest resolve can resist its power. If what you say is true, then you are one of a very select few to have looked one in the eye and survived. All others turn to stone.”

“…You’re joking, right?”

Silence.

“…Right?”

“Would that I were,” she says quietly, watching her spoon as it gathers the last dregs of vanilla. Then she looks at me again. “This coming from you, I must admit, I have my doubts… but I can think of no other creature you could be describing. I’ll investigate the matter when I return home. In the meantime, I recommend you stay close to the house. And if anything should happen to Trail Blazer, I will hold you responsible.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. As much as I care for my people, I can’t be everywhere at once. So, against my better judgement, I’m entrusting you with her safety.”

“But I don’t know how to fight. And even if I did, how could I with this leg?”

“That did not stop you fighting a cockatrice.”

“But I didn’t fight it! It just stared at me and ran off!”

“And why should I believe you?”

I try to defend myself, but stop, and slowly close my mouth.

“Prove me wrong, human… and then we can discuss the terms of your stay.”

I sag and look away. I feel horrible. Not just because I’ve made a fool of myself, but because… I don’t have a choice anymore. Princess or not, she has powers I thought I’d only ever see in the movies, so I can’t exactly disagree with her on anything. And besides, what else can I do? Leave and hope to make it on my own? With my knee like this? When there are dragons, minotaurs and Medusa-chickens running about, and who knows what else? Of course not.

I always thought I knew what’s best for me, but this is far more than I can handle on my own. And it’s scary… unnerving… almost sickening, to have my whole world flipped upside down twice in less than a day. I’ll get over it, sure — I always do — but still… I don’t want things to change any more than they already have.

“…So, what now?”

“Now, we part ways,” Selene declares, though in a far more cordial tone. “I’ll attend to my duties in Canterlot and return within the next few days, and you’ll stay here, resting and recuperating. And I hope with all my heart that you’ll keep Trail Blazer safe.”

“…I’ll… try,” I mumble shakily. “And she prefers Amber, you know.”

“Amber Dart, to be precise. But she is who she is, wherever she goes.”

“…What’s that supposed to mean?”

Her face brightens, but faintly. “Perhaps you should ask her yourself,” she says, as if it were nothing more than a whimsical idea. “On that note, there’s one final thing I must ask of you.”

“What’s that?”

The look fades, but there’s still a certain gentleness in her eyes. “It may seem like an odd request… but if you were to keep this meeting private, I’d be most appreciative.”

“You… don’t want me telling Amber about this?”

“Indeed.”

“…Why?”

She waits a moment, and then smiles. “Call it a test of faith.”

I’m still confused, but I know there’s not much I can say to change her mind, and I don’t want to push what little luck I have left. I fold my arms and glance away. “If you say so.”

“I understand your scepticism, but to gain my trust, you must first prove your worth.”

“Isn’t protecting Amber enough?”

“Protecting her will prove that you’re a good person. This will prove that I can trust you.”

“…Isn’t that the same difference, though?”

“To the inexperienced. But in my line of work, subtlety is everything.”

I pause, and then give a small, soft, genuine laugh. “Well then, I’m glad I’m not you.”

“Nor do I envy you.” She grins with similar sentiment, and then floats the goblet towards her and downs the liquid remains of our dessert.

“You sure love your ice-cream, don’t you?”

“Mm,” she agrees, licking her lips and replacing the goblet, auras dissipating when she drops her spoon inside. “Yes, you could say I’ve something of a sweet tooth, but… ice-cream is a childhood favourite. One of my aunts would make a tub just for me every birthday, as well as the cake.”

“She was a cook?”

“An artist,” she corrects wistfully, “whose talent lay in making others smile.”

“…She meant a lot to you, didn’t she?”

“As did many others…” she mumbles, lowering her ears slightly. And then she looks up at me. “But I’d rather leave the conversation there, if you don’t mind. My past… though public knowledge… is a very sore topic.”

I pause again, but slowly bow my head.

“Thank you,” she says, her face brightening once more as she stands. “I think I’ll take my leave now. You’ll want to stand back for this.”

I heave myself up and step off the blanket.

“Leave the spoon, please.”

I glance down at my hand, “Oh, sorry,” and lean back in to put it in the glass cup.

“Quite alright, quite alright. But I can’t have my staff wondering where the last piece in the dining set has gone, can I?”

“No,” I agree, stepping off the blanket again, “I guess you can’t.”

She nods, and then angles her head. “Before I go, what are your responsibilities again?”

“To keep Amber safe, and to keep this meeting secret.”

“Good.” She nods. “Well, if there’s nothing more to say and no more questions to ask, I shall simply say… until we meet again.”

I bow. It’s a very strange action, almost embarrassing, but I get the feeling that it’s what she expects. “Good night, Selene.”

“Your Highness, if you will.”

“…Good night… your Highness.”

“Good night, Adam Mackenna.” She smiles. “Sweet dreams.”

The aura forms around her horn, the distortions reappear, and as soon as the flash clears, I’m left alone in the cool night air. I blink and look around to make sure, and find no trace of her by the edge of the clearing, on the mountains, on the roof, or peeking around the corner of the house. She has indeed, along with the blanket and goblet, vanished.

I lock the door behind me and sit on the bench.

I feel empty. Unsure of myself. I mean, I know what I’m supposed to do now, but… it’s…

To be honest, I don’t know what my problem is. Maybe everything was just a little too… inconclusive for my liking. Like… I don’t know. Maybe I thought that if I met this world’s leader, or leaders, they’d be able to help me out somehow — that is, if Selene is who she claimed to be. And maybe I was being naïve, but… being told to wait here and do nothing was not what I expected.

But who am I kidding? I’m not that lucky anymore.

I reach for the cup on the table and drink, only to gag in surprise and cough as much as I can back in, then limp over to the window, throw the contents out and lock the shutters.

That wasn’t water. That was alcoholic. And I’m guessing I already know what kind.

…What the hell have I gotten myself into…?