December 2002 - Law of Averages


    Morgan was sixteen, riding in the backseat with four of her friends, going home from a Christmas pageant. She played the Virgin Mary. I don''t know what that means, or if it means anything. My life is often like that. I was born 8-8-88. My sister died 12-22-2002.


    I''m a rational person. I know it''s a coincidence. The Law of Averages, you know. In a random sequence of numbers, these things happen.


    Remember I told you I had another sister? Anna was stillborn on 8-8-85. She would have had Turner''s Syndrome. My mother cremated the body, keeping the ashes in a box in her bedroom, always with her, like some cosmic foreshadowing.


    In my gramma''s house, there was a painting of a boy and girl crossing a rickety bridge while a guardian angel watches over them. The sister is a little taller, and she''s comforting her brother and leading them forward. When I was small, I thought it was painted for us: Morgan and me, with Anna as our guardian angel.


    Of course, that was just a coincidence, too. No guardian angel watched over Morgan that night. The mayor''s truck collided with her friend''s Toyota Camry. The car broke in two. Her seatbelt ripped, and Morgan was thrown from the car and smashed into a light post. She was the only casualty.


    The coroner said Morgan died immediately from blunt force trauma to the heart, but days later, I found on the light post where Morgan died a letter. Someone wrote they held her hand as she died, but that meant she lived for a while after being tossed from the car. I suppose one or the other lied to make us feel better. Sometimes I wonder which was true, like a question that haunts me.


    I remember that night so clearly. The way moonlight silhouetted Reba as she collapsed in tears in the doorway. The officer and priest spoke euphemistically about ''an accident'' and ''moved on.'' I remember being confused and anxious because no one would speak straight to me.


    When Tom finally said the words, "Morgan is dead," I didn''t feel anything. I don''t mean that quasi-romantic emptiness that poets write about; I mean, I felt no different. If anything, I felt hungry and more confused. Morgan and I were Irish twins. We went everywhere together. Everyone around me was distraught, but I just wanted to finish eating my General Tso''s chicken, and I couldn''t understand it. Why wasn''t I sad? Didn''t I love her most? Something must be horribly wrong with me, I realized. What kind of monster doesn''t mourn his best friend and sister? I hated myself so completely it brought me to tears. Tom tried to comfort me, but he didn''t understand, and it made me hate myself more because my grief was a lie.


    The weight of reality hadn''t settled in yet. I know that now. I was fourteen, and death wasn''t something I was capable of understanding all at once in that moment. Morgan was dead. I knew that, but for days, for a second every morning, I''d wonder why she hadn''t woken me up early to get ready for school.


    I remember, weeks later, watching a TV show. A character asked her brother to walk her down the aisle, and I thought, ''I bet Morgan will ask me to do that when she gets marri-'' and then I remembered. I couldn''t imagine a future without her in it, not at first. But reality is relentless.


    Morgan''s death broke my mother. Tom carried her home and into bed, screaming and pulling her hair. She stayed in bed for months, smoking weed and hardly eating. It terrified Jude and me. We weren''t very self-sufficient. Morgan was the precocious one. Jude and I were free-spirited troublemakers. With Mom incapacitated, Tom moved in with his pregnant wife and newborn son to "help take care of us."


    I should give Tom a proper introduction. He was thirteen years older than me but five inches shorter, a detail that offended him to his core. Now I look back on Tom with pity, but back then, I loved and hated and feared Tom in equal measure. He was my big brother but also my worst bully. He would hit me, or twist my arm, or threaten me, or belittle me, or anyone else who made him feel insecure, including his wife, Reba. She was also taller than Tom. You''d think Tom would marry a short girl, but Reba had more essential qualities: gullibility and low self-esteem.


    Tom had a pattern, a modus operandi: he finds a girl, turns on the charm, and gets her pregnant within a few months. His charming mask slips before the baby is born, and she has doubts, but after giving birth, after seeing her family together for the first time, she convinces herself it was her mind playing tricks. For a while, they enjoy a beautiful fiction. But reality is relentless, and the next time it asserts itself, she wonders if she made a huge mistake. She considers leaving him. Tom begs. Let''s have another baby, he says, and because she''s pliable and romantic and naive, she says yes, and embraces the fiction once more.


    I called it a pattern because it''s happened three times that I know of. I heard there were others, but Tom swears those babies aren''t his.


    Tom and Reba moved in to "take care of us" as their beautiful fiction began to fall apart. Tom stopped pretending to be kind or thoughtful. Reba was pregnant with baby number two, and the combined pressures of pregnancy, early motherhood, grief, a strained marriage, and the distance from her family in Ohio, all brought Reba to a state of hysteria semi-regularly. Tom was either unable or unwilling to help his pregnant wife and child, so baby Connor watched a lot of Shrek, and I became both nanny and family therapist while Tom went to "work." I put work in quotes because Tom couldn''t keep a job for more than a few months, and I can guess what he did between jobs.


    What I''m about to say will seem arrogant or delusional, but it''s the truth. I only mention it because it''s relevant to my family dynamic: I was the smartest person in my family. I don''t have any evidence to back up that claim, except everyone in my family knew it as an uncontested fact. I don''t think that makes me particularly intelligent: it just meant my family was very dumb, except Morgan and Jude, but she died, and he was three years younger than me, so I had a head start. Jude is clever, though, and funny, but the ugly truth is, we forgot about him completely.


    Jude was eleven when his big sister died. His mom lost herself in grief, and, I''m ashamed to say, so did I. We were all so absorbed in our own selfish depressions. We couldn''t, or wouldn''t, see how lost and alone he was. The feelings I described earlier, he experienced, too. We could have bonded. God knows he tried. I just... didn''t want to.


    That''s how I was back then. I didn''t want to bond or connect. I didn''t want to talk to anyone. I didn''t want to go to school and see strangers laughing. I hated them. I hated my teachers, who looked at me with compassion and sadness and gave me passing grades even though I ignored my homework. I hated the kids who were suddenly nice to me after years of tormenting me. I hated them most of all. How dare they be kind to me now. A few bullies kept it up, for whatever reason, but it didn''t sting like it used to. Their barbs and shoves seemed so distant from me now. I developed a morbid sort of appreciation for them. At least my bullies were consistent. My hatred for them was something clean and uncomplicated.


    Besides, they were quaint compared to the bully at home. Which brings me back to my earlier mention of intelligence, or lack thereof. The point is Mom, Tom, and Reba all came to me with their emotional and intellectual quandaries because they thought I was smart. The truth is I was a stupid child. I was fourteen, pretending to be grown-up because it was easier than processing my grief. More and more, I pretended to be someone else, somewhere else. I pretended I was cynical and superior. I lied to myself, and my family believed the lie.


    It''s hardly surprising. Self-deception comes naturally in my family. Tom convinced himself he was a hero, rescuing his family from the precipice. Mom convinced herself Tom was trustworthy, that she hadn''t raised a violent sociopath. I convinced myself I was intelligent. Reba convinced herself her marriage could be saved. And we all supported each other in our delusions because that''s what family does.


    Speaking of delusions, Mom and Tom became convinced that pigs were spying on them. You see, the truck driver that T-boned the car my sister was in happened to be the mayor. Mom sued him for Morgan''s death. After a year of legal dancing, Mom was awarded nearly $200,000.


    But in the intervening months and sometime after, Tom became convinced that the mayor was compelling police to tail the family in search of dirt or whatever. I don''t know. But I know Mom smoked pot, and in 2003 that was still illegal in the state of Washington, so she got paranoid easily and not without good cause.


    I vividly remember the day Mom got the settlement check. We had all abstractly discussed what might be done with the money. I suggested buying an RV so we''d never be homeless again. Jude wanted to open a restaurant. Reba suggested putting money aside for Jude and me to pay for college. Tom wanted a new Dodge Truck with a V8 engine. Mom wanted to travel the world. I guess she compromised (?) by buying two Dodge trucks with V8 engines. Seeing Mom and Tom drive those giant gas guzzlers home for the first time, I had a vision of our future.


    Do you know most people who win the lottery are broke again in about a year? They call it a curse, but it''s simple: most people who win the lottery have been poor all their lives. They''ve never seen that much money. They think it''ll last forever, so they spend it all. Money management is for rich people, and most lotto winners haven''t been rich long enough to know how to manage their fortune. By the time they figure it out, their fortune is spent. That''s a lot like what happened to my family.


    Mom didn''t buy a house, or a restaurant, or an RV; nor did she set money aside for college. Instead, she rented two jumbo-sized Uhaul trucks, and we packed all our belongings and drove across the country for a month. Mom didn''t know where we were going, but she knew she wanted to leave Washington, so we wandered. We drove to Nevada, then Colorado, then Texas, and finally ended up in Montana, for some reason.


    Chapter 8 - Sanctuary


    Apple had never felt more at home. Castle Moondial was stiflingly comfortable, not at all suited to a monkey. More than anything else, Apple wanted to climb trees in a forest and be carefree, but she couldn''t because in the center of Apple''s forehead was a gem. It separated her from the wild, strange cave animals surrounding her. But in this underground forest, Apple was free to be an animal again.


    Sprigga, it turns out, was a playful tree spirit with boundless energy. When Rowan left to rescue Rafael and Morgan, Sprigga took to caring for Lyn immediately. They played games of tag, hide and seek, and throwing contests until Lyn was finally exhausted again. The young girl was presently sleeping on a mound of soft moss.


    Apple was still wide awake. She didn''t need to sleep. Another consequence of the gem in her forehead; she never tired. She could sleep if she wanted, but for the first time in her existence, Apple was free and in a forest. She was too happy and excited to sleep. Instead, she chased the bizarre green cave animals, and climbed the tallest tree in the forest. Fully three times larger than any other tree in the forest, its branches were wide and soaked up nearly all the sunlight that broke through from a crack in the ceiling. Apple climbed as high as she dared and took in her surroundings.


    Sanctuary was massive, with rows of carved stone separating the forest into four equal parts. Each quadrant was distinct, with unique plants and animals. Two were blooming with gorgeous flowers, while another was dark and deadly with thorny vines and sinister-looking plants. The fourth district was mainly water, and plants that grew underwater. Colorful birds filled the air, and other animals and insects of all sorts lived and died in the cavern, having never seen the sky. Apple wondered which of them was more trapped.


    Suddenly Sprigga''s face appeared in the bark of the branch that Apple was clinging.


    "You should be careful when exploring the forest. Some of the plants and animals are carnivorous," said Sprigga with a voice of a buzzing beehive.


    Apple immediately worried about Lyn''s safety. "Would anything hurt Lyn? Should I stay with her?" she asked frantically.


    "No, don''t worry. I can sense everything that happens in Sanctuary. I won''t let any predators get near Lyn while she sleeps," Sprigga said calmly, and Apple relaxed.


    "Forgive me," Sprigga continued, "but I''ve never seen a creature like yourself before. I wonder, were you born with that stone in your head?"


    Apple touched her gem absent-mindedly. "No," she answered. "This was installed shortly after I was born. It gives me knowledge and energy."


    Sprigga''s face rearranged itself into a look of surprise and awe. "That''s powerful magic."


    Apple continued absent-mindedly, "I don''t remember anything before the gem. It''s as though I woke up for the first time to see His face."


    "Whose face?" Sprigga asked.


    "The Godfather''s," Apple whispered as waves of reverence and dread washed over her. In the back of her mind, Apple knew something was about to happen. Every familiar on the island knew. But Apple couldn''t think clearly about it, like a dream from long ago. All the details were missing. But she sensed it. The Godfather was making moves. Apple was so preoccupied in thought that she didn''t notice Sprigga''s reaction. The bark on Sprigga''s face transformed into an expression of deep distrust, fear, and uncertainty. But when Apple looked back, Sprigga''s usual mild demeanor had returned.


    "I''ve never seen a creature like you, either," she said. "If you don''t mind my asking, what… are you? How do you know everything that happens in the forest, and how are you in a tree right now?"


    Sprigga chuckled, and it sounded like wood knocking together. "I am the tree. I''m its hands, eyes, and ears. The roots of this Great Oak touch the roots of every other tree. So I''m connected to every tree in Sanctuary. I hear their thoughts and feel what they feel. And in turn, they see through my eyes. They''re even listening to our conversation."


    That surprised Apple. It hadn''t occurred to her that trees had thoughts or feelings, let alone that they could listen. It made her feel even smaller than usual.


    "What are the trees saying now?" Apple asked, not knowing why.


    Sprigga was silent for a moment. "They''re divided. The vines and thorny bushes are frightened. But the flowering trees are grateful to have guests. It can be a bit boring after a few hundred years with no one to talk to but the birds. The fruit trees ask if you''re hungry. They''re very proud of their produce. We''ve been cultivating the sweetest, juiciest pomegranates for centuries."


    It had been hours since Apple last ate. Likewise, Lyn would soon wake up hungry.


    "Please give my thanks to the fruit trees. It would be good to collect some food for when Lyn wakes."


    "Wonderful idea," responded Sprigga. "I''ll meet you at the base of the Oak, and we''ll go gathering." Sprigga''s face disappeared and the tree''s usual bark pattern returned.


    Apple climbed down slowly, carefully, half distracted. Something was coming, but she could do nothing to stop it. She didn''t even know what it was or when it would arrive.


    When Apple reached the forest floor, she saw that Lyn had already woken. She was hungry and also distressed at Rowan and Apple''s absence. Apple comforted Lyn and tended to her worries; before long, she forgot about her own. Once Lyn was settled and ready, Sprigga guided them through the forest. They passed by one of the carved stone barriers, and Apple saw engravings with what might be names and dates. Then she realized the walls weren''t walls at all, but burial chambers entombing countless bodies.


    The fruit grove was expertly managed, with orange, pomegranate, pear, cherry, and almond trees neatly arranged with just enough space for each tree to flourish. The fruits looked ripe and full. Somehow the entire grove not only grew but thrived in this underground cavern.


    "How is this possible?" Apple asked.


    As Sprigga answered, a nearby tree branch lowered a pomegranate into Sprigga''s clawed hand, "I told you. My roots touch the roots of every tree in Sanctuary. I collect the sunlight and distribute it to every other growing being here. It''s the same with the water. My roots go deep enough to touch the ocean, so I transfer water to everyone else here."


    Sprigga opened the pomegranate and gave one half to Apple and the other to Lyn, and the two ate merrily. They wandered the grove and sampled the fruits and nuts. Everything tasted delicious. They were contently fed and laughing when all of a sudden, Apple became paralyzed. She couldn''t move or speak or even blink. It was as if someone had flipped a switch and shut her down.


    Apple heard a scream from behind her that sounded like the cry of a giant bird. In Apple''s periphery, Sprigga narrowly dodged a flying, spinning saw. Lyn grabbed Apple, shook her, and tried to make her run, but not a muscle was moved. Finally, Lyn carried Apple away from the attacker. With her face now in Lyn''s shoulder and her eyes drying and painful from her inability to blink, Apple could see nothing. But she wasn''t entirely without options. Apple could still think and process what her senses detected, and she had an idea.


    The attacker must also have a familiar, Apple reasoned, because she sensed them earlier. She could transfer her perspective to the eyes of the attacker''s familiar. Apple reached into the Aether and linked with the nearest familiar, a giant hawk.


    Apple shifted perspective.


    From the bird''s eye, Apple could see the entire forested cavern. The hawk had entered the cave through the crack in the ceiling and circled above them. Secured by a harness to the hawk''s belly rode a man with golden hair. The rider wielded four metallic disks, which spun in the air, occasionally shooting in Sprigga''s direction and then returning like yo-yos. Sprigga was on the ground fighting valiantly, narrowly evading the rider''s attacks. Vines shot out of the forest floor like spears at high velocity, but the rider deflected Sprigga''s attacks and cut down the vines with his disks.


    Meanwhile, Lyn was carrying Apple''s frozen body away from the battle, but neither the rider nor the hawk lost sight of them. The fight lasted mere seconds before one of the flying saws carved Sprigga in two. Sprigga''s body fell to the ground and was swallowed immediately by vines and moss. The hawk stopped circling and instead dove toward Lyn and Apple, claws outstretched. It was about to swoop down and fly away with Lyn when out of nowhere, a ball of fire shot through the air and struck the hawk dead in one eye and out the other.


    Apple, watching from the hawk''s perspective, felt it die. The force and trauma knocked her back into her own body with whiplash. She blacked out and collapsed in Lyn''s terrified arms.


    Rowan walked toward the giant bird''s dead body with a fireball in each hand, breathing heavily, exhausted from running through the caverns, and devastated at having lost Rafael and Morgan. But they had made it in time. Lyn was still alive.


    Unfortunately, so was the rider. He crawled from under the hawk''s corpse, bloodied and bruised from the fall and looking angry. He wore handsome leather armor and had pale features. The flying disks returned and spun around the missionary. Using two disks as shields, he blocked every fireball Rowan threw at him while using the other two disks to attack. Rowan ducked and dodged as best they could, but his attacks were relentless and precise. Try as they might, Rowan couldn''t keep up. More than once, a disk stopped midair, reversed direction, and cut Rowan, narrowly missing a vital area. They would have been cleaved in two were it not for Lyn.


    The young girl was hiding behind a fallen tree, far from the two fighters, but she still had the crystal filled with mana she had gathered in the crystal caverns. Lyn summoned the mana stored in the crystal, and shrunk it into a blinding bright ball. It couldn''t hurt the missionary, but it might distract him.


    Lyn threw the ball of light at the missionary''s face. He tried to dodge and wave the magelight away, but his hands went through it like mist, and still, it shined in his face. The missionary stepped on one of his disks, and it carried him into the air, away from Rowan and Lyn''s attacks. The other three disks spun around him defensively.


    Meanwhile, Sprigga had collected their nutrients to the Great Oak and stepped out of the giant tree again. With Sprigga recovered, the battle was now three-on-one.


    Even with an airborne advantage, the missionary could only defend himself. The fight had turned, and it looked to soon be over. In a desperate act, the missionary changed tactics and flew toward Sprigga. At first, they thought he meant to attack the forest spirit, and Sprigga defended themselves accordingly, but he flew over Sprigga and instead sent all three available disks to see the Great Oak down the middle.


    Sprigga''s scream was horrible and heartbreaking, collapsing to the ground. Rowan threw fireballs at a mad speed, but the missionary dodged and flew around the Oak. Meanwhile, the disks carved the Oak down, sawing off branches at rapid, sadistic speed while Sprigga screamed in agony. Rowan ran and threw fireballs in a vain attempt to stop the assault, but it was too late. In a matter of seconds, the Great Oak of Sanctuary was reduced to a large tree trunk. Sprigga was on the ground, life fading away, and it was all Rowan could do to reach them in time, to hold their hand as Sprigga''s body again turned to dust, this time for the last time. Rowan yelled in anguish and rage, turning to face the floating missionary, still contending with Lyn''s blinding magelight.


    What neither the missionary nor Lyn knew was Rowan wasn''t in their true firefox form. The anthropomorphic shape they allowed certain humans to see was worn for comfort and convenience. Rowan''s true self was fire, pure and wild. Rowan''s people used to jump into rivers of lava and swim beneath the crust of Eden. The skin on Rowan''s body began to melt and crackle away as flames erupted from within, slowly at first but growing in size and intensity. All the while, Rowan stared daggers at the missionary.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    The missionary, meanwhile, from his vantage in the air, didn''t appear especially concerned until he threw two disks in Rowan''s direction. By the time the disks hit Rowan, their physical body had already been reduced to ashes. Only flames remained, in the shape of a giant fox. The disks flew through the flames like leaves on the wind, dealing about as much damage. Once he saw that his weapons were useless against Rowan''s true form, the smug confidence left his face. He sent the disks spinning through Rowan twice again, but the flames were only fanned.


    Rowan leapt into the air. An explosion erupted beneath their flamed paws, setting the surrounding area on fire. The missionary redirected all three shields to defend himself from the attack, but Rowan spun midair instead of attacking him head-on. Rowan''s tails swiped from the side, ignoring the shields and passing through them. The missionary was burned instantly and severely. Agony distracted him, and he lost focus of his weapons. All four disks fell to the cave floor. The missionary also fell, in flames and screaming, until he struck his head on a stone and died instantly; his corpse still on fire.


    Rowan landed gracefully and returned to their anthropomorphic shape. Maintaining their true form demanded an immense amount of energy and left them exhausted after. On Inari, the volcano used to replenish a firefox''s magic, so Rowan could maintain their true form indefinitely, but with Inari destroyed and the volcano now a steaming ruin under the ocean, Rowan had to rely on reserves of energy, and there wasn''t much left.


    Rowan looked around and saw the entire Sanctuary was burning. Fireballs were damaging enough, but when Rowan''s true firefox form was unleashed, much of the forest was set on fire. It was too late to do anything but flee now. Adam knew where they were, Sprigga was dead, and Lyn was in danger. Rowan ran to her. She was crying in fear, rocking and holding Apple''s limp body. Rowan looked down at Apple with disgust and hatred and briefly considered throwing her into the fire. But Rowan was a soldier and had orders to follow. So Rowan picked up Apple and instructed Lyn to follow as they ran to a far corner of the cave.


    The flames were growing and expanding, and the sound of cracking wood became deafening as Rowan struggled to find an opening in the cave wall. Lyn tried to stop crying, but the flames were getting closer, and she was terrified. Finally, Rowan found the secret opening, something impossible to find if one didn''t know to look for it. Rowan pushed hard against a thin crack in the cave wall and revealed a narrow passage. The three of them squeezed through quickly, and Rowan pushed the wall closed behind them, again trapping them in absolute darkness. This time, Lyn was the first to summon her magelight. A silvery, green, blue, red, and orange swirling orb lit their surroundings, a long, narrow passageway. Lyn''s tears quickly dried as she found a way to be useful. Rowan carried Apple''s still unconscious body and ordered Lyn to lead the way. They continued walking in silence for a long time until they finally reached what looked like a dead-end. Once again, Rowan found a hidden crack and pushed it wide open.


    They stepped out into the clean ocean air for the first time in over a day. It was still the dark of night, but the moon shined brightly above them, illuminating everything with a pale, eerie light. Not far from where they emerged was a small wooden shack, seemingly built on the beach in the middle of nowhere for no obvious purpose, but Rowan knew its purpose, marched over to it, and ripped the door open with the strength and frustration of someone with nothing left to lose. Lyn followed meekly behind, still scared but now of Rowan''s rage. It had been a traumatic few hours for the poor girl, and Apple was still unconscious.


    Inside the wooden shack was a simple bed and emergency supplies. Against the wall opposite the door leaned a small canoe.


    ''Come here,'' Rowan signaled to Lyn with one hand, the other still holding Apple by the throat. Lyn stepped forward obediently, eyes never leaving Apple''s unconscious body.


    ''Will she be okay?'' Lyn asked, on the verge of tears.


    Rowan''s face took a cold and frightening expression. Their finger fell on the bed with intention and force.


    Lyn trembled but obeyed. ''Can I sleep with Apple?'' she asked.


    Rowan hesitated for a brutal few seconds before answering, ''Of course,'' and laid Apple next to Lyn in the bed. The girl put her arms around her monkey and tried to find solace.


    Then, just as she had done to the guards outside Morgan''s room, Rowan put their hand on Lyn''s forehead and said, "Sleep."


    Lyn passed out immediately. Then Rowan ripped Apple out of Lyn''s arms and carried her outside and to the ocean.


    The monkey was still unconscious. It will be easy, Rowan decided. A mercy killing.


    But as the waves brushed Rowan''s ankles, they stopped to look at the stars.


    A moment passed before Rowan turned around and laid Apple gently on the sand. Then Rowan lit a small fire and leaned over the monkey''s head.


    Delicately, with sharp claws, Rowan pried the jewel from the monkey''s forehead. It took some doing. Adam somehow grafted the stone directly into the bone and frontal brain.


    The stone came out with a cracking pop, and blood filled the space. Rowan sacrificed some of their quintessence to heal the hole in the monkey''s forehead.


    Lyn would never forgive Rowan for killing her precious Apple.


    After the stone was removed, the monkey was still breathing. A bright scar marked her forehead. The monkey would never speak or sign again. Perhaps she might carry the memories of her time as a familiar, but Apple was now simply a monkey.


    Rowan carried her back to the shack and laid her on a shelf where she might heal or die undisturbed.


    After locking Lyn safely in the shack, Rowan walked down the beach for nearly an hour. It was approaching dawn, but the moon was so big and bright in the sky it might have been noonday. The cliffside seemed to glow in the moonlight, juxtaposed with sharp, dark shadows carving out slices of inky blackness.


    The cool beach wind was crisp and bracing, mist collected in Rowan''s fur. Eventually, Rowan reached a modest beach house, one of the many secret homes that Rowan''s people built on the Vulpen Islands long before the first human ships landed.


    The beach house was a cover. The real house was behind it, in the mountain stone itself. But Rowan had spent enough time in caves for one day. They only needed one object. Inside the modest cabin was a full-length mirror, set in wood, and carved with intricate engravings.


    Rowan dragged the mirror out into the moonlight and sat next to it. Rowan held the familiar''s jewel in their palm and then placed their hand on the mirror so the jewel and mirror were touching.


    Rowan closed their eyes to meditate. Lilith would be waiting.


    Traveling through a dreamscape, Rowan came to Lilith''s hallway and the intricately detailed and graphic door to Lilith''s astral chamber. Rowan knocked, and the door opened.


    In the center of a dark, gothic room stood Lilith, barefoot, statuesque, and haunting.


    Rowan ran to Lilith, who embraced them in excitement and sympathy.


    Lilith kissed Rowan tenderly on the forehead. "My darling, I''m so sorry for your loss. We will avenge them, I swear to you. Adam will pay for everything he''s done. Tonight, I show you how. Is everything ready?"


    "Yes. I''m at the beach house with the mirror. I''m using the familiar''s jewel to fuel the bridge. Will you come to Eden?"


    Lilith shook her head sadly. "I''m bound to this place. I can''t leave Nod. Not yet, at least."


    Rowan sighed softly. "Okay. Then I just need your mirror''s location and we can begin."


    Lilith caressed Rowan''s face gently and smiled. "I know, my darling. I want to feel you truly in my arms, too. Our day will come. That''s my second promise to you tonight."


    Rowan nodded and tried to feel better despite themself.


    "I believe you," Rowan said, and maybe they even meant it.


    "Good," Lilith smiled and kissed Rowan again on the forehead.


    Rowan opened their eyes and knew where to find Lilith''s mirror. The magic flowed out of them and into the mirror. The reflection shifted and came into focus. On the other side stood Lilith, precisely as she had appeared in Rowan''s dreams. Next to Lilith was a tall, handsome man with dark features and long black hair tied into a braid.


    "Now," Rowan shouted.


    The dark man next to Lilith ran toward the mirror and leapt through it. After him came several monstrous flying creatures with large fangs and claws.


    As he and his beasties passed through the mirror, Rowan felt the jewel''s mana drain. Familiars were supposedly connected to an infinite mana source, but it appeared the jewels themselves were finite. It crumbled to dust after the eighth beastie flew through, and the connection to Lilith''s mirror was severed.


    Circling all around her, grotesque devils flew and screamed in vicious delight. The man stood nearby. He was smiling like a kid and jumping on the sand as if he''d never seen sand before. Then he ran toward the ocean to touch the water, but he was afraid of the waves, so he ran back laughing.


    "So this is Eden," he exclaimed with joyous awe. He wore simple black leather. His brown eyes shined like obsidian in the moonlight. He was beautiful and frightening, not unlike his mother, but he seemed so much softer, almost child-like.


    "Hello. I''m Rowan," they greeted him.


    "Yes, I know. Um… hello. I''m Samaal. It''s good to meet you," he said with a shy smile. He wasn''t at all what Rowan had expected.


    But before Rowan could reconcile their expectations with reality, a loud blast came from up the beach where Lyn was sleeping. Rowan sprinted toward the shack. Samaal followed, and so did the flying devils, but they arrived too late.


    The shack door had been blown open, and thick smoke filled the air and was carried away by the strong beach winds. Lyn was gone. Rowan screamed and panicked. They searched the area, and the devils searched from the skies, but the only clue they found was on the bed where Lyn had slept: a single black raven''s feather.


    New Year''s Eve, 2003 - Genesis


    In a motor lodge outside of Bozeman, surrounded by virgin snow-capped peaks and icy cliffs, we would move into our new temporary home on the 1st of January. But first, Tom and Reba would have one last fight.


    When the argument first broke, I picked up little Connor and baby Carrie and moved them to safety. I haven''t yet mentioned how attached I was to Connor. When he learned how to walk, he walked to me.


    The night Morgan died, Connor stumbled over to me. I held him close and cried for the first time and felt a miserable sort of relief. He was my buddy, and I was his.


    Protecting Connor from Tom was more important to me than anything. When Tom was away at "work," I pleaded with Reba to take the kids and leave Tom. I''d ask her why she stayed with a man who hit her, who hurt her children, but she loved him, she said. She was alone in Washington. Where would she go? How could she leave? She spent all day at home taking care of the kids. There was no time to make friends or chase opportunities.


    Meanwhile, Tom grew tired of his dull, simple wife. Just before we left Washington, he found a new girlfriend named Karina. She was a young, buxom blonde, smarter than Tom was used to, and even funny. I might have liked her if I didn''t think she was into Tom for the money and the drama.


    For some dumb, fucked-up reason, Tom decided to bring Karina with us on our month-long trek across the states. That went over as smoothly as you''d expect, considering Tom''s ex-wife drove the other Uhaul. Yeah, they divorced (actually, they were never legally married, but they called each other husband and wife for a bit until they didn''t).


    So it should surprise no one that Tom and Reba fought bitterly and frequently on our roundabout voyage. I could tell when a fight was brewing. I knew when Conner and Carrie needed to be secured in another room. I''d seen it played out dozens of times, but it was worse those days. Before, when Tom hurt one of us, it was a demonstration of force but also a show of control, of benevolent restraint. He thought of himself as a hero, remember. He used to twist my arm until it almost snapped, but it never did. He always let go just before lasting damage was done, and then he''d smile as if he had rescued me.


    But that was before. On this particular night, a loathing filled the air between Tom and Reba. Karina... well, she didn''t help. For the most part, Karina ignored Reba and avoided her, but there was no respect between them. But on this particular night, Karina said something snide and dismissive, and Reba blew up. She called Karina vile names. Karina left the room at Tom''s behest, but then Reba turned her fury on him. I shut the door to Conner and Carrie''s room and stood sentinel, as I''d done dozens of times before. I thought I could protect Reba. Sometimes I stood between Tom and Reba. Sometimes I tried to pull him off her. These days I wonder if my presence agitated the situation because Tom loved an audience. I was so naive and stupid.


    Reba shouted something vicious and hateful, and Tom slapped her across the face. I ran to Reba, but before I could do anything, Tom grabbed her by the throat and slammed her into the couch. I pulled Tom by the shoulders, but he turned and punched me full in the stomach. I collapsed, gasping for air and crying. Tom turned and grabbed Reba by the skull, pressing his thumbs against her eyes and shaking her head into the couch as she screamed, and Mom screamed, and Jude watched and cried, and I writhed, useless on the floor.


    Karina reentered, and immediately, Tom let go of Reba''s skull. Reba fled the room. Tom stood calmly and reasonably explained that Reba was asking for it, and everything was fine. I watched with muted horror and disgust as Mom and Karina nodded along to Tom''s crafted version of events. I hated them all in that moment. Even poor Jude, as he nodded along with them, tears at bay. Jude knew better. Jude knew Tom was evil, and Mom was delusional, but God, he was so small. What could he do? I left them to their lies, returned to Conner and Carrie, told them everything was okay, and held them close.


    The police came promptly. Reba finally had enough. She told them everything. They arrested Tom, put Mom in handcuffs for interfering, and facilitated Reba''s escape to Ohio with the kids. I carried Conner to the caddie that took them away. I still remember the look on Reba''s face of sadness and joy, regret and relief, as she hugged me goodbye. And I remember Conner crying when I shut the door and never saw them again.


    I think of that night as the worst of my life, which might surprise you since it has a happy ending. After all, Reba finally took my advice, the kids would be safe from Tom forever, and no one died. I got what I wanted.


    Tom was released from jail a few days later, sadly, and the rest of us moved into a gorgeous log house over a buffalo pass, where Native Americans once chased buffalo to their deaths. Bones could still be found at the bottom of the cliff.


    Livingston, Montana was a retreat town for rich skiing enthusiasts. Surrounded by mountains, it was a picturesque wonderland in the winter. The view of the surrounding mountains covered in snow is, to this day, one of the most breathtaking sights I''ve ever seen. It was the home Mom had always wanted. It had high ceilings, and everything was polished wood. It had big open windows that looked out onto town; at night, the lights in the dark distance were a spectacle.


    We stayed in Mom''s perfect home for less than a year. Remember what I said about lotto winners? The house was outside our means, especially with two new trucks and moving expenses. Mom never had that kind of money before, and she thought it would last forever. But once we moved in, Mom took a look at her bank statements, and things went from bad to worse.


    She resigned herself to finding work, something she detested. She couldn''t afford the lifestyle she wanted on her own, so she convinced Tom to pay her rent. He found work off-and-on, as was his habit, so rent was inconsistent, and even when it was consistent, they still fought over money. The thing is, my mother loves money. She''s a greedy, grubby person. Tom agreed to pay rent, no big deal, but it wasn''t enough and never would be. She always needed more money.


    She didn''t want to work. She abhorred labor of any kind, including the household variety. I had washed the dishes since I was nine. Morgan used to clean the bathrooms. It became Jude''s chore when she died. Mom didn''t cook or clean or wash clothes. She used to scream for me to bring her a glass of coffee or water because she couldn''t be bothered to get out of bed. Rent was never enough because, deep down, Patsy wanted Tom to dump Karina and spend the rest of his life taking care of her.


    They fought everyday like a married couple over anything and everything but always money. Jude told us all he thought about suicide, but no one listened. I found a job at a movie theater to get away from home. At work and school, I kept to myself and said nothing to anyone. The students in my classes called me ''The Boy Who Never Smiles'' because no one knew my name.


    One morning, Patsy yelled to wake me up, "Bastian, come quick. Karina has a knife, and she''s threatening to stab it up her pussy to kill the baby." I was 15.


    I rushed downstairs and saw Karina pacing like a madwoman on the wrap-around porch. Everyone else was in the kitchen. Karina was muttering invective, trembling, and holding a large kitchen knife.


    "What the Hell did you do?" I accused Tom.


    "Nothing! We went to a party, and someone slipped her something. She''s coming down from a bad trip."


    "Jesus Christ. And she''s pregnant?!"


    Tom shrugged. Fucking dumbass.


    I stepped out onto the porch. Karina and I had become friends. I liked her. She trusted me. More than the rest of my family, at least. Certainly more than she trusted Tom, considering his dumb ass was hiding in the kitchen.


    "What''s going on?" I asked her.


    "I''m jonesing and- and I want some crack!"


    "Well, I can''t help with that but I can sit with you, if you like. We can talk shit, or- I read a good joke online. You wanna hear it?"


    "No! I don''t wanna fucking talk! I want. Crack!"


    "I hear you. You''re hurting. You want crack. But that''s what''s hurting you now. Taking more will hurt you again. The only way the pain stops is to ride it out. So I''ll sit here with you for as long as you need."


    As I said this, Karina began cutting her jeans with the knife, haphazardly, until the knife slipped, and she cut her forehead. She screamed in rage and threw the knife, holding her face and crying.


    Quickly and quietly, I grabbed the knife and opened the kitchen door, handing it off to Jude, who was watching everything. He was 12.


    "Nice work!" whispered Patsy, with a phone to her ear. "I''m on the line with police dispatch. Someone''s on their way."


    I panicked for a second. Then I grabbed a fresh towel and returned to the patio to comfort Karina. She was sobbing and holding her eyes, blood running down her hands and cheeks.


    I touched her shoulder gently. "Let me help, please. I have a towel."


    She held fists to her eyes and shook her head. "I hurt my baby! Oh, God. What have I done?"


    I sat beside her, shoulders touching, bringing the towel to her wound. I said, "Hey. One mistake won''t ruin the kid''s life. Kids are tough. Besides, if you''re not ready, I''ll take you to the clinic myself. I don''t have a driver''s license, but I stole mom''s car for a midnight joyride a few times. I can do it again."


    Karina laughed, then she saw flashing lights up the road. She looked at me, terrified.


    "Mom called the pigs. If they see you like this, they''ll 50-51 you, best case. Go to Jeanie''s house. Sleep. Drink lots of water. Go, quick, before they reach the driveway."


    Karina''s expression said everything. She hugged me, leaving blood on my shirt, and then leapt off the balcony to run down the buffalo pass, finally jumping a fence into a neighbor''s yard and disappearing down the road.


    The police came and went while I took a shower to wash the blood off my neck.


    Later I learned that Jeanie helped Karina come down, took her to an abortion clinic, and even paid for her plane ticket back to Washington. I never saw her again.


    So you can imagine why I spent all my free time in a book or a game or some other form of escapism. I studied religion and mythology. I read His Dark Materials, A Song of Ice and Fire, The Vampire Chronicles, Island of the Blue Dolphins, Crown of Stars, Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, Dragonriders of Pern, A Brief History of Time, Hitchhiker''s Guide to the Galaxy, and more that I''ve forgotten. I saw every movie that came out that year. I played Elder Scrolls nonstop. I was desperate to escape my miserable existence but also desperate for answers I didn''t know I needed.


    That was the beginning of my fantasy world. It started as a question: where did Morgan go? Will I ever see her again? I was raised to believe in God and Jesus Christ. Morgan was baptized, so if there was a heaven, she was supposed to be in it. But the more I learned about Christianity''s history, the more repulsed I was by it. The corruption. Colonization. Missionaries. The Crusades. The Inquisition. It was all inhumane. What kind of God would condone such evil? And did such a God deserve worship?


    And meanwhile, I was realizing I liked men, and if those TV Christians were right, that meant I was going to Hell, and I''d never see my sister again. That terrified me. For five years, I spoke of it with no one. Morgan was the only person who knew. She confronted me about it months before her death. She told me she loved me no matter what. We didn''t talk about it again, and she never told anyone, taking my secret to her grave.


    I hid myself away as much as possible but couldn''t hide completely. I bought a sexy magazine of men boning, and it was discovered at work. They fired me. I was so humiliated and scared my family would find out, I panicked and got on a bus to Bozeman.


    I wasn''t thinking clearly. The plan was to get a job that night and pray that my family never learned the truth. It wasn''t a very good plan, and unsurprisingly, it didn''t work. I filled out some applications, but no one interviewed me or offered me a job, and as night fell, I realized I was stranded 20 miles from home, and the bus stopped running half an hour ago.


    I called Mom and asked for a ride. She said I should have planned better. It wasn''t her responsibility to pick me up. I got out there by myself, and I could get back by myself, and then she hung up the phone.


    I had no friends in Montana and nowhere to go. I was stranded. I cried and felt sorry for myself, wandering the city for an hour or more, going nowhere, growing increasingly disconsolate. And also terrified because I was sure my family would learn I bought gay porn, and my life would be Hell from then on. Tom would humiliate me and call me a faggot every chance he got. Mom would cry because it meant I''d burn forever in Hell. Maybe they''d disown me.


    My misery and fear consumed me until nothing was left but self-loathing. I was useless without Morgan. She was my other half: conscientious and grounded, whereas I was reckless and imaginative. She was confident and popular; I was insecure and bullied. She was my guide and protector. Without her, I was aimless and alone and so very tired.


    It was well after midnight when I stumbled upon the bright neon lights of a 24-hour pharmacy. With blurry, tearful eyes, I looked up and saw the lights like the dawn, and a terrible idea came to me.


    I hated my life, my family, and most of all myself. The idea of living with myself for the rest of my life was too horrible to accept on that night in a random pharmacy parking lot.


    According to my mother, various media personalities, and the Bible, the punishment for suicide was eternal hellfire. But they also said that about gay people, so it seemed to me the game was rigged from the start.


    But that didn''t factor much into my decision because at the time, I didn''t believe in anyone or anything. I assumed religion was a hoax spread for the sake of social cohesion. In my mind, Morgan was gone, and life was simply a series of coincidences. The Law of Averages. The origin of life was as inevitable as death. The sweet embrace of oblivion. An eternal, dreamless sleep.


    With my mind set, I walked into the pharmacy. The blinding, fluorescent light made everything look sterile, like an asylum.


    "Asleep" by The Smiths was playing on the overhead radio. I bought a soda and a box of sleeping pills.


    I wasn''t sure if the pills would kill me, but I hoped so. I found a tree to rest under and swallowed every pill in the box. I was too tired to cry. Instead, I closed my eyes and went to sleep, to dreams of sorrow and spite and profound relief.


    But I didn''t die. Lethal sleeping pills were legislated heavily in the ''70s and ''80s. I didn''t know that, and like I said, I wasn''t thinking clearly. I was just miserable, cold, tired, and afraid I would always be. Instead, I dreamed intense, vivid dreams.


    I dreamed of Morgan, of Adam and Eve and Lilith, and a world where Morgan wasn''t gone, but trapped, where she could be rescued, and I could see her again.


    That was the genesis of Eden.


    I dreamed I was on an island beach, washed ashore by the tide. I could feel the sand beneath me and the warmth of the sun on my face. I opened my eyes and saw an angel robed in blinding light, glory incarnate, with dove-like wings and a face of peerless beauty.


    "Get up," the angel ordered. "Your sister is in danger, and only you can save her."


    Raf coughed the water out of his lungs and tried to remember what happened. His father… The last thing Raf could remember was falling, and as the rocky waters neared, Raf blacked out. Had he died? Raf sat up and felt his body and felt very much alive and unharmed.


    Wait! The angel said Morgan was in danger!


    "What do you mean, ''in danger?'' and what happened to my father?" he asked.


    "Your father is dead. A fallen known as Azazel killed him. Now it possesses your sister, and if you don''t save her, Azazel will consume her soul completely."


    Raf couldn''t think. There was a ringing in his ears. What does this mean? he thought. What do I do?


    "What do I do?" he pleaded. "How do I stop it?"


    The angel responded with a voice of wind chimes and cascades, "You will need to learn soul magic to trap the fallen and free your sister. To do that, you must enter Oceania and find the Time Dragon."


    Raf panicked. Oceania? Soul magic? An angel and a dragon? This is crazy, he thought. Am I dead? Could this be a dream? He felt tears on his face.


    "Clear your head," the angel commanded. "Go to the caves on the far side of the island."


    Raf picked himself up and tried to do as he was told. Morgan needed him. He had to be strong.


    "Good," said the angel. "I will remain by your side as you cross the island."


    With that, the angel dispersed into a cloud of golden light that encircled and enveloped Raf. He felt something like a warm mist brush across his skin, but otherwise, no different. Raf felt alone and scared, but he knew the angel was near.


    "What should I call you?" he asked.


    At first, the angel didn''t respond, and Raf thought he wouldn''t get an answer, but finally, the angel said, "You can call me Sophia. Start moving. We have a long way to go."


    End of Book I