《Thunder Moon》


 Chapter One

    The misty light from the full moon filled her room with a soft blueish glow. Xanthe put the pillow over her face. The sweet smell of fabric conditioner tickled her nose. Sleep had evaded her for seven nights and the howls were getting louder. More mournful. The soft cushion muffled her screams. She didn¡¯t want Kit to hear, or his dad.


    ¡°Leave me alone, please!¡±


    She tried to avoid Kit after Melanie had daubed ¡°witch¡± on the wall of the surgery garden. She scrubbed at the red paint all day until her hands were raw. It was the last of several taunts since Melanie had spotted the tattoo on her neck. Despite Xanthe¡¯s efforts to make peace. She would never stop. After the fire, Melanie was on the receiving end of a butt of jokes, and she blamed Xanthe for it. And who could blame her? She had started the fire.


    Xanthe looked at her fingertips, then quickly sat on her hands. She told them it was her fault, but no one would believe her. And that had incensed Melanie.


    In fact, for the last term, her hatred intensified so much that Xanthe stopped attending lessons at the centre. It just wasn¡¯t worth it. It meant missing her exams and right now she didn¡¯t care. She should care. Where was she going to go when the Wishing Well Centre no longer took responsibility for her? Although living at Doc Stephens was a great alternative, she couldn¡¯t rely on his kindness forever and, what¡¯s more, she didn¡¯t want to take advantage of his generosity.


    Kit was keen to help her find her mother, but it was too close and personal, even for her best friend. He meant well, he really did. It needed to be her and her alone. She had needed no one before. Why now? She wouldn¡¯t allow herself to be rejected again.


    Two years gone since they were in the Kingdom and no sign that it had ever happened. Her legacy. The Moon Princess. Hah! Who would believe that? Or that she had talked with a peacock, freed the Moon People from their stony silence and slayed the evil dryad, Toovah.


    Two years to convince herself that she was responsible for Malik¡¯s death, her protector, her guardian. A pained howl rang out in response. And now he had come back to haunt her.


    Hot tears threatened at the back of her eyes, and she swallowed another yawn. Kit was her only friend, and she missed his company despite all her claims that she was alright on her own. As they had shared blood,


    They had developed the power to communicate via mind transfer, though lately she had shut him out. He understood her, somehow. Perhaps it would have been better if she had never been born. Why would a mother give her child away if she loved it? Surely she must have done something bad to make her mother abandon her, with nothing. It was as if she was a ghost. Only she knew she wasn¡¯t. She pinched the soft side of her thigh for feeling so sorry for herself. This wasn¡¯t like her. If only she could sleep. Why couldn¡¯t things have stayed as they were, before Malik, Nokomi and Princess Ayla. She had just been plain Xanthe before then. Now she was Ayla, the Moon Princess.


    She glanced at her bracelet, knowing that the memories would provoke the Troll beads to glow. It was her connection to the Kingdom of Selene. Horus, the imperious white peacock, heard her and tried to reach her, but she wouldn¡¯t let him in either. She learnt to suppress all thoughts of the Kingdom to shut them out of her mind, to sever the ties between them.


    If she had given the wicked dryad what she wanted, the powers of the Moon Princess, Malik, would still be alive. Because what use were the powers to her? She didn¡¯t save Malik. He was dead. Her breath caught in her throat and she squeezed her eyes shut tight until it subsided.


    She would give anything to go back in time. Anything.


    Xanthe rolled over, rucking her knees up under her chin, rocking back and forth, forcing her eyes closed. She didn¡¯t want this damn prophecy. Xanthe opened her eyes and glanced around the room. She moved out of the centre to live at Kit¡¯s house temporarily after things with Melanie escalated. Now it felt like home. A patchwork quilt with ocean animals covered her bed and her clothes hung on a rail at one end of the room. It was the first place she felt comfortable. And she had lived in her fair share of foster homes. Never able to fit in, despite the efforts made on all sides.


    She walked over to the window and threw them open as the curtains fluttered in her face with the balmy breeze. The air was suffocatingly warm, even though it was approaching midnight. The smell of dry grass and soil filtered up from the garden, which was dry and crisp from lack of water. It was as if the sky was about to cave in on her like a thick blanket, swallowing up all the air. She breathed in deeply, counted to seven as she stared at the large moon, like a silver orb in the obsidian background.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to be your moon princess! Just leave me alone.¡± As much as she wanted to cry, to let go of the grief, Xanthe wouldn¡¯t, because she feared that if she did, she would never stop. She leant her forehead against the coolth of the glass and tapped her fingers. ¡°Please, just leave me alone.¡± Xanthe snapped her head up at the sound of another howl, a painful howl, the howl of a wolf. Malik.


    She banged the window with her fist. Malik was dead. He would never return, yet he haunted her dreams and that¡¯s why she couldn¡¯t sleep, wouldn¡¯t sleep. She was punishing herself. Sitting on the sill, she swung her legs over and shimmied down the drainpipe from her first-floor window. As she ran towards the howls, through Bluebell woods, the thick undergrowth pulled at her legs, slowing her down.


    ¡°Leave me alone, please!¡± she shouted in response to another mournful cry. ¡°Please, just leave me alone.¡± She heard a rustle but knew it would be a rabbit or a badger and she sat down at the base of the large tree where she had first travelled with the Troll beads, back when she knew nothing. Unaware then that she had invoked a travel spell when she twisted the beads in frustration,


    She leant her arms on her knees as the exhaustion took hold. Her eyelids, so heavy with fatigue, she battled to keep them open. As she succumbed to the sleep that had evaded her for many nights, she sensed a hot breath on her forehead, a soft fur brushing past her legs like a devoted cat, and a wet, rough tongue brushed her cheek.


    ¡°Malik,¡± she whispered.


    When she woke, the sun streamed through her bedroom window, which was still open, the morning breeze billowing at the curtains. Xanthe blinked and smarted at a familiar prickling sensation at her wrist, like tiny pricks. She scrambled to sit up, trying to remember how and when she got back to her room and she pulled up the long sleeves of her tunic to reveal another tattoo on the underside of her wrist. Her hand went instinctively to the back of her neck, where the moon tattoo appeared two years ago after falling from a tree.


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    This one was smaller and yet more significant. Etched into her skin were two wolves. One black, one white, entwined like lovers. It was simple yet intricate, like lace. Raised red lines framed the ink drawing, and she ran her finger over the tracing. She winced with pain as she tried to scrub the images out. Malik had been in wolf form when she first met him., according to her prophecy, he would be her Prince.


    Something whizzed past her head, and she ducked. She glanced around the room, not believing what was in front of her eyes. The Book of Words lay on the floor, spewing out pages and pages. Xanthe grabbed one as it flew by. The pages seemed to attack her. She grabbed another and another. On each page was the picture of the tattoo inscribed on her wrist. Within moments, the pages covered the floor like a blanket of tattoos.


    She put her head in her hands and sobbed. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, Malik.¡±


    ?*??.


    Kit watched Xanthe run across the grounds towards Bluebell woods from the kitchen window. Where on earth was she going at this time of night? He hesitated. Should he follow her? She had been so tetchy this past week he didn¡¯t think she wanted the company. The luminescence from the moon followed her like a spotlight along the path, but she didn¡¯t seem to notice. He heard her shouting something earlier.


    Her behaviour was becoming more and more strange and he didn¡¯t understand why she didn¡¯t want to find her mother. If he had the chance to find his mother, he would. She just walked out one day and his father refused to talk about it. It had become a bigger source of conflict between father and son as the time for him to take his place at Medical School approached. His mother encouraged him, but his father expected him to go.


    He ran his fingers through his heavy fringe, which tickled at his eyelashes. His feelings for Xanthe confused him, never mind her, and it was all he could do sometimes not to express his happiness at just being close. He understood that finding out that she had a legacy as a Moon Princess, as a witch, was difficult. But on the other hand, exciting.


    He started as his father walked into the kitchen.


    ¡°Burning the midnight oil?¡± His father smiled, the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth spreading like small little rivers. He had never seen his father so tired, but he spent all his time working. Kit didn¡¯t know that he wanted to be like his father. Dedicated to his cause, which provided a welcome distraction from the empty space in his life. And anyway, he would never, never, live up to his standards.


    ¡°Yeh, couldn¡¯t sleep in this heat.¡± Kit pulled open the kitchen door and grabbed a carton of milk and raised it to his lips and grabbed a glass. ¡°Want some?¡±


    His father shook his head. ¡°No thanks, son. I¡¯m going to bed. I need to sleep. But we need to talk, Kit. About med school¡ª¡±


    Kit slammed the fridge door a little too hard and half smiled. ¡°Of course, tomorrow. I promise.¡±


    The moonlight framed his father, casting a deep shadow that reminded Kit of a wolf. He clenched his jaw. He was just seeing things. Kit tried to put his finger on when his relationship with his father had become so tense. It must be the weather, the oppressive heat wave was making everyone go a bit doolally.


    ¡°Well, goodnight then,¡± Kit said.


    His father squeezed his shoulder as he passed by. ¡°I just want the best for you.¡±


    ¡°I know, Dad, we¡¯ll talk. Tomorrow I promise.


    Kit resisted looking back at his father. He was worried. He got that. But couldn¡¯t he just give him some space? Every single conversation he brought up med school. Kit sighed and headed for the stairs, his feet dragging on the floor. He wasn¡¯t sure what he wanted any more. Just to chat with Xanthe would be good. She would understand.


    Back in his bedroom, Kit sat down in his chair and rolled back to his desk, where three large computer screens lit up his face. The large blue eyes of Scarlet Nexus stared back at him, her sword in hand raised behind her head, ready to strike. He had developed a bit of a gaming habit, pure escapism, and right now that was what he needed. It had become almost obsessive, and he spent most of his time in front of the screen, building worlds, tackling the baddies and saving the young, beautiful heroines.


    His dad believed his white lies that he was very busy preparing for his exams and applying to medical school. They weren¡¯t full out lies, but he didn¡¯t give them as much attention as the games.


    His logical brain told him that there must be the answers out there, he just needed to ask the right questions. He needed to treat it like the games he played, following clues, gathering information, putting the pieces together. He would find out. Maybe then Xanthe would change her mind.


    His thoughts wandered back to the fatherly chat he¡¯d promised his dad. All his life, his future as a doctor had been predetermined. Until now, he thought that was what he wanted. Going to med school, discussing his studies with his father, maybe a research post somewhere.


    He knew that Melanie¡¯s continued harassment didn¡¯t help Xanthe¡¯s mood. Kit suggested she should report the vandalism to the Centre, but Xanthe wouldn¡¯t hear anything about it. She told him to mind his own business. She was right. He should.


    He pulled the keyboard towards him and entered the date when Xanthe¡¯s mother left her as a baby at the Wishing Well Centre. Seventh of July. He frowned. That was the day¡ªa howl like a wolf sounded from outside and he started. He shook his head. That was the day she received a birthday present. Her first. A map of portals, entries to the Kingdom of Selene.


    Kit pulled up the archives of the local papers and searched the dates prior to Xanthe¡¯s arrival. He scanned pages and pages of boring village life, posters about fetes and fairs and summer activities for school children during their holiday. As he skipped the personal ads pages and items for sale, he flipped over to the births and deaths announcements. He did this with all the papers within a certain radius of the centre. Nothing stood out. Nothing at all. Surely there would be some kind of clue, something no matter how small.


    He rubbed his eyes and stood up and stretched, then sat back down again. He back tracked a day, then another. Then back seven days. Xanthe counted seven whenever she needed to focus. He should try that. Nothing. He scrolled back another seven days and searched all the dates with multiples of seven. Nothing.


    ¡°Aargh.¡± He pushed the keyboard away and sat back in his chair. He focused on the framed photo of his mum, smiling at the photographer, most likely his dad. She wore a long maxi dress covered with a daisy print and held a large floppy straw hat on her head with one hand. Her other hand clutched his chubby little fingers as he reached up to her. He was about three years old. Kit picked it up and ran his fingers over the glass.


    ¡°What would you do, mum?¡± He scrubbed at something under the glass. Tiny little specks. Thunder bugs. He undid the frame and cleaned the glass with his sleeve, breathing and polishing until it shone. He lifted the photo and gently brushed off the little flies. Under the photo stuck to the backing was a folded piece of paper. He frowned and gently picked at the tape, which was dry with age. He unfolded a paper clipping. A death notice for one Stella Rivers. His heart thumped in his chest, and he sensed a tremendous moment of sadness. Surely not. Xanthe¡¯s mother was dead? After everything that Nokomi had said? He turned over the photo and stared at his mother. Who put it there?


    He grabbed his keyboard, pulled up the browser, and searched the local graveyards and cemeteries. No listing of a burial of Stella Rivers anywhere. Which may mean that there was a mistake, more than likely that there had been no death. But why post an obituary?


    A scream rang out from Xanthe¡¯s room, and he ran to her door at the end of the corridor. He knocked once and pushed through.


    ¡°Xanthe¡ª¡±


    He paused in the doorway. Xanthe was on the floor surrounded by pieces of paper with some kind of image on it. The same image on each page as far as he could make out. She looked up at him, tears streamed down her face and she held her wrist as if she¡¯d injured it.


    ¡°Get out, Kit!¡±

 Chapter Two

    The door slammed as Kit retreated, sending the pages on the floor into a wavelike motion before they fluttered back down to their resting place. Xanthe picked up the Book of Words. A knot of guilt twisted in her stomach. She hadn¡¯t meant to shout, she just hadn¡¯t wanted to see Kit. She rubbed at the tattoo again, knowing it was hopeless, yet taking some relief from the pain it produced. Even though she couldn¡¯t get rid of the image ingrained on her wrist, she could get rid of the paper.


    With a determined move, she pulled the heavy iron fire cover away from the hearth. When she had first stayed at the surgery, it had surprised her to find a fireplace in a bedroom. It was beautiful and very old-fashioned and, judging by its appearance, hadn¡¯t been used for years. She bent down, turning her head to looking into the blackness of the chimney. The cover was heavier than it looked and it scraped along the slate hearth with a painful screech, like fingernails along a chalkboard. The noise set her teeth on edge.


    She gathered the papers, sat back on her knees, and screwed them into loose balls before chucking them in the grate. She paused, counted to seven, and flexed her fingers. Could she do this with some control? She didn¡¯t want to risk setting the house on fire. If she had this power, she might as well use it and she didn¡¯t want Kit asking questions. What he didn¡¯t know couldn¡¯t hurt him.


    She swallowed. Her throat was dry, and she concentrated on her breathing as she pointed her fingers at the mountain of paper balls. She concentrated hard, repeating the words of the fire spell under her breath. A waft of flames shot out, scaring her so much she fell backward. The paper caught fire and roared up the chimney taken by the draught, and she scrabbled to her feet. Xanthe ran around the room grabbing the pages and threw them into the flames, watching as the tattoo faded and turned to ash and wishing that it would have the same effect on her wrist. She continued the process until there was not one bit of paper left, save for a pile of ash. Just like Toovah, it turned to grey powder within minutes. She shivered. Xanthe examined the ends of her fingers for any evidence, but as usual, not a hint of what she could do when she put her mind to it. Faint wisps of smoke, like tiny tendrils, wafted towards her as the grate cooled.


    Xanthe showered, scrubbing hard at her skin, hoping that the tattoo would just fade away, but it seemed more prominent. As she dried her hair, she glanced at the pile of ashes in the grate. She had almost thrown the Book of Words in the flames along with her bracelet, but something inside wouldn¡¯t let her go that far.


    And she felt so bad about shouting at Kit. They had never argued, and he didn¡¯t deserve her anger. She would have to apologise and the sooner the better, before she lost her nerve. She


    picked a tee with long sleeves so she could cover up the tattoo. It was not the ideal thing to be wearing in this heat, but what choice did she have? Xanthe grabbed a pair of leggings and counted to seven. What was so hard about apologising? She had been in the wrong and she didn¡¯t want Kit to think she didn¡¯t care.


    Xanthe ambled along the corridor to the kitchen door before her courage failed her. She stopped mid track when she heard raised voices. They were coming this way. She hid in a small recess which acted like an impromptu coat rack, pulling the coats and jackets around her, hoping that she would blend in. As she slipped her feet into Doc Stephens wellingtons, she held her breath as Kit and his father walked along the corridor.


    ¡°But you should study, Kit. You promised,¡± his father pleaded in a quiet but determined voice. ¡°You can¡¯t just keep gaming when you want. Focus, you have to be focused. I¡¯m not stupid, you know.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t say you were stupid.¡± Kit was standing so close she could hear the frustration in his voice.


    ¡°I am studying, Dad. But I also need a break and I need a change. I can¡¯t study all the time. I doubt even you did that. You, of all people, should know that. Sitting at a desk all day, day in, day out, is not a good thing, is it?¡± Xanthe hated to hear the tension in his voice. They always seemed to have an uncomplicated relationship. Though his dad was pretty hard core about his exams.


    ¡°And how can gaming be good for you? That¡¯s not a change of position. It¡¯s just an excuse and a distraction, Kit. I thought this was what you wanted.¡±


    Kit marched into the kitchen, followed by his father, as Xanthe peered out from her hiding place.


    ¡°What you wanted, you mean,¡± muttered Kit as he shook some Cheerios from the box. Xanthe¡¯s tummy rumbled in response and she held her breath.


    Doc Stephens sighed heavily and sat down at the kitchen counter, running his fingers along the marble edge. ¡°Look son, I know you and Xanthe are great friends, but you can¡¯t let your..¡± He tapped the top, searching for the words. ¡°You can¡¯t let the feelings you have for her get in the way of your ambitions.¡±


    Xanthe peered through the clothes and watched Kit¡¯s shoulders tighten. She held herself still, trying not to move. She really didn¡¯t want to hear this conversation.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have feelings for her.¡± Kit stabbed at the bowl with his spoon, splashing milk all over the top. ¡®there are more important things than a medical degree, or going to university, you know. His voice rose along with his anger. ¡°Anyway, you¡¯re the one who invited Xanthe to stay. Have her help with the admin of the surgery. You¡¯re the one using her, not me.¡±


    Doc Stephens sighed and rubbed his forehead. ¡°I know. I thought I was doing the right thing. But I was wrong. It¡¯s not Xanthe, it¡¯s just you don¡¯t need the distraction right now. I¡¯ve asked Melanie, from the Centre, to come and help with the admin. Thought it might help them build a bit of a friendship and Melanie could do with a friend right now. Her mother¡ª¡±


    Kit stood up and pushed the stool away. ¡°Melanie? Are you kidding? You know what she daubed across the wall the other day. About Xanthe?¡±


    ¡°Yes, which is exactly why I thought they might benefit from spending some time together and then you can concentrate on your studies.¡±


    ¡°I will not study. I¡¯m not going to university. Not yet. I¡¯m taking some time out. And that¡¯s the end of it.¡±


    Kit reached out and fumbled for his jacket in the coat rack, just missing Xanthe¡¯s face when he reached out. She held her breath and counted to seven as he withdrew his keys.


    ¡°What could be more important than your career? You have always wanted to¡ª¡±


    ¡°No,¡± shouted Kit. ¡°You have always wanted me to go to university, get a degree, and become a doctor. What if I don¡¯t want to follow in your footsteps? Follow your dreams? And you ask me what can be more important.¡±


    Kit was standing so close to his father their noses almost touched. His body trembled with anger and frustration. ¡°Having a mother around is important,¡± he whispered. ¡°Or at least knowing where she is.¡± Doc Stephens looked up at Kit, removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. ¡°And friends are important, not burying yourself in your work so you can pretend everything is normal.¡±


    Kit plucked at the soft fuzz under his chin. ¡°And if you hadn¡¯t noticed, Xanthe hasn¡¯t been around at all lately. She doesn¡¯t want to see me and so she is not the distraction you think he is.¡± Kit¡¯s voice grew hoarse with emotion. And he turned and walked out of the door, slamming it so hard behind him that the glass panes rattled.


    Xanthe put her fist in her mouth. She couldn¡¯t do this. She had to tell Kit that she couldn¡¯t make him choose. That she wasn¡¯t worthy of his friendship, not if it meant that he gave up on his dreams. Because they were, she knew deep down they were. She would have to tell him they could never see each other again, to make him see she wasn¡¯t worthy of his protection. She had to stop his obsession


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    #


    Doc Stephens stared after his son, his fingers tapping on the marble kitchen top, muttering to himself. Xanthe couldn¡¯t help but feel sorry for him. He had been so kind to her, offering her some work at the surgery and a bed to stay in. But he hadn¡¯t asked for another teenager in his life and he was right to put Kit first. She understood that.


    Xanthe had tried so hard not to allow herself to believe that this was family. She didn¡¯t want to be let down. Again. She saw Kit as a big brother. Someone who wanted to look out for her. And he had, and he did. He never really deserved to be shouted at. But she knew deep down in her heart that Kit wanted more than just friendship, and that wasn¡¯t part of her plan. She didn¡¯t actually know what her plan was, and she loved Kit. As a friend. Sounded so cliche but it was true.


    The dust motes behind the coats tickled at her nose and she pinched it tight, trying to hold off a sneeze. She held her breath. Counted to seven and wished that Doc Stephens would go back to his surgery. She changed her position slightly, and he turned at the sound of the coats rustling, his frown creased with confusion. Xanthe tried to stand as still as a statue, but the dust was really irritating her nose and she couldn¡¯t stop it. She sneezed loudly, once, twice and then a third time, and stumbled out of her hiding place.


    ¡°Xanthe?¡± stuttered Doc Stephens.


    Xanthe wiped her nose with the back of her sleeve and swallowed.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Doctor Stephens, I didn¡¯t mean to¡­ but I heard¡ª¡±


    ¡°You heard everything,¡± he said, removing his gold-rimmed glasses and cleaning them with the tails of his shirt. Kit looked so like him, the little arch in the eyebrows, the slightly upturned nose.


    ¡°Well, I¡­¡± There was no explanation why on earth she¡¯d been hiding other than she didn¡¯t want to know what they were arguing about? About her.


    ¡°Look, I know it may seem harsh. Some things I said.¡± Doctor Stephens sat down heavily on a stool and put his head in his hands. ¡°I don¡¯t want you to think that I¡ª¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, Doc Stephens. I understand. I want Kit to do his studies. He will become a doctor, a brilliant doctor like you. Truly I do.¡± She felt so uncomfortable talking about Kit like this. Behind his back, but she did. She wanted him to succeed in his life. And with her around, that would not happen.


    The doctor turned and smiled at her. ¡°You are a good friend to Kit. I understand that. It¡¯s just that he seems so distracted. So disconnected.¡± He sighed. ¡°This isn¡¯t about you, Xanthe. This is about my and Kits relationship. We seem to get crossed wires all the time. I¡¯m just trying to do my best. It was all his mother¡­¡± he trailed off, a sad smile still lingering on his lips. ¡°We¡¯ll sort it out. I promise. And you can stay here as long as you like.¡±


    Xanthe shook her head. ¡°You don¡¯t have to,¡±


    ¡°I know I don¡¯t, Xanthe. But I want to. Now, I know Melanie and you haven¡¯t exactly seen eye to eye in the past, but she really could do with a friend right now and I thought it might be a good idea to give her a chance.¡±


    Doctor Stephens was one of the kindest people Xanthe knew, but he was also a bit of a pushover. Melanie just wanted to make Xanthe¡¯s life miserable, and this was the ideal opportunity. But Doc Stephens wouldn¡¯t understand that. She scratched at the tattoo on her wrist through the cardigan and bit at her lip.


    ¡°Could you just try? For me?¡± Doc Stephens asked.


    ¡°I suppose so,¡± lied Xanthe. There was no point in telling him anything else. He would only try to persuade her to change her mind.


    He glanced at his watch. ¡°I¡¯ve got to go. I have a house visit. We can talk again later about Melanie?¡± The lines around his eyes creased with hope. ¡°And don¡¯t worry about Kit. He''ll sort through it I¡¯m sure.¡±


    Xanthe nodded, not wanting to incriminate herself anymore, and waved him off. She sat at the kitchen counter and gathered the spilt Cheerios in piles of seven and began popping them in her mouth one by one.


    There was no way she could stay on, but she understood why Doc Stephens had changed his mind. He didn¡¯t want to reject her, a kindness she was thankful for. He was right about one thing. She needed to find some answers for herself. And maybe one way was to find her mother. Make a start. Quite how she would do that, she didn¡¯t know.


    Xanthe spent the rest of the morning working in the surgery. She filed away all the papers that Doc Stephens had stacked in several piles, making sure that they were all in alphabetical order. She tidied and cleaned the surgery, making sure that all the instruments were clean and the used ones bagged and ready for collection, and finally she wrote out some notes that she thought might be helpful to Melanie. After all, Xanthe had made systems that suited her and they might need some getting used to. Even after everything, she couldn¡¯t hold Melanie responsible for anything that happened to her. And Doctor Stephens was right. Melanie needed a bit of a hand up. She¡¯d heard the other girls gossiping about Melanie¡¯s mother, the local ¡°bag lady¡± who was still very young. She¡¯d been in and out of rehab units for her addictions for years, neglecting Melanie when the drink affected her sense of responsibility. Melanie had been in and out of the Wishing Well Centre ever since Xanthe could remember returning to her mother when she made new promises about new beginnings. Fresh starts that never seemed to last more than a few months. Xanthe thought maybe it was for the best not knowing anything about her mother. Then she could believe what she wanted to.


    By lunch time, Xanthe had everything as organised as she could and she considered writing a letter to Doc Stephens. She thought better of it. Her actions spoke her thanks, and that would just have to be good enough.


    She sat on her bed after she¡¯d stripped the sheets and put them in the washer and ran her finger around the wolves¡¯ heads engraved in her skin. Was Malik trying to reach her? But why now? And what on earth could a dead warrior want, a warrior from another world? The beads on her other wrist glowed on and off softly, as if trying to soothe her mind, and she picked up the Book of Words to put in her bag. She had little to represent her life, but these two items had become very important to her.


    Xanthe traced her fingers over the Book of Words presented to her by Nokomi, the Moon Goddess. The Goddess who had led her to believe that she was her mother on her deathbed. Who had tricked her into taking up a legacy she had neither asked for nor wanted. Gifted fingers had carved the leather and in the centre was a kind of star. A star with seven points. It was no ordinary book; the pagers were blank. She bit at her bottom lip. On the one hand, she didn¡¯t want the birth right she had been gifted.


    On the other hand, she needed a little help. All she had to do was ask. And believe. She flicked at the pages. Stupid book. What use was a blank book? Her throat was dry and her eyes scratchy. She rubbed at them with her fists. Crying wouldn¡¯t help. At one time, that was all she ever did, but it never brought her any comfort, only more unwanted attention. So she had stopped. That was before. Before she knew her mother really didn¡¯t want her. That she must have done something terrible to be rejected by her own mother.


    A large tear fell down her cheek and ran onto the page open on her knees. The paper soaked up the salty puddle like a sponge and Xanthe wiped her face with her sleeve.


    The Book of Words fell from her hand, and the pages fluttered. Letters formed on the blank paper where her tears had fallen and she spelt them out aloud.


    T R U T H W E A V E R.


    What on earth did that mean? A sketch appeared, faint lines which became stronger and more frantic. It was as if there was an invisible pencil flying across the paper. A house, with candles in the windows and a bridge connecting what she realised was the Wishing Well Centre grounds. But she¡¯d never seen this place before.


    The images kept on coming. More detail on the house, if you could call it that. No-one could live in it, in that state. Planks, nailed across most of the windows, covered broken glass. The central section of the house resembled a face, with the large double doors representing a gaping mouth. Ivy wound its way all over the stone walls, like serpents in a pit, searching for the light. At one end, where the roof came to a point, the branches of a dead tree poked out from a hole in the tiles. Xanthe¡¯s eyes rested on one window. Was that a figure standing there looking out at her? She rubbed at her eyes and stared again. It was a figure.


    The page turned and another image of the house appeared with the same features, except this time graffiti daubed on the walls in white paint. She recognised some symbols, moons mainly, and the words Witch and Die Witch, just as Melanie had written on the wall. What did all this mean? The bridge appeared again, this time overgrown with pretty flowers, coloured like tiny little gems and a signpost with a single eye painted on it.


    This was a portal. To where she did not know. She walked over to her dressing table and opened a small rosewood box that she had received two years ago on her birthday. Inside was a map. A map of portals that she and Kit had used to get to the Kingdom. She tapped on the Ladders of Hell, then the Wishing Well, and her gaze fell to another sketch, just two long lines. The Narwhal Bridge.


    She had nowhere else to go. So why not? But there was one last thing she had to do before she left. She had to see Kit. She owed it to him. After all, he had been the one who had believed in her, in her powers, in her strength when she had all but given up. She couldn¡¯t leave without saying goodbye. She just hoped he would understand and let her be. He would have to. She closed her mind to everyone but Kit to reach him. One last time.

 Chapter Three

    Kit had planned to go for a ride on his bike after the argument with his dad, but he was too angry. He found himself at the Wishing Well. He flexed his fists and stretched his arms up above his head, his t-shirt riding up his stomach. Since returning from the Kingdom, he¡¯d put a little more weight on and developed some muscles. A more toned body, not unlike Malik. He couldn¡¯t stop looking at himself. Not only did he feel different, he looked different. More like he had dreamed of for some time.


    He reached for the newspaper cutting he¡¯d shoved into his back pocket. He knew that this had some significance, somehow. Important information about Xanthe¡¯s mother and proof that she probably just didn¡¯t abandon her like she thought. What she would think about coven¡¯s and witches he could only just imagine, but he¡¯d been researching the symbols and there were definitely some connections. But that didn¡¯t matter to him, anyway. After all, that was where medicine had started with the pagans and the women who had made tinctures and remedies with plants and herbs. His father¡¯s precious medical degree wouldn¡¯t be around if it weren¡¯t for them.


    He hated arguments and confrontation, especially with his father, but just lately he was always on his back, always having a go at him as if nothing he did was right. And he felt guilty about lying to his father, too. His mother had always told him that lying was so unnecessary, that the truth, even if it hurts, was always the right path to take.


    Kit thumped the edge of the well, regretting his action when the skin on his knuckles split. He sucked at the blood. His whole life had revolved around him becoming a doctor, like his dad. And at one time, he thought that was what he wanted. Or did he just want to make his dad happy? He didn¡¯t know anymore. He didn¡¯t know whether he could pull it off, whether he was good enough to follow in his dad¡¯s footsteps. More so, he didn¡¯t know if he wanted to be far away from Xanthe. Was that really stopping him?


    He took out the moonstone, from his pocket. The stone Xanthe had retrieved from Toovah. He had taken it everywhere with him since she had given it to him. At first, when they had returned from the Kingdom, they had regularly chatted with each other using the power of mind transfer. He could do this because of the blood they had shared. So although Kit didn¡¯t possess any of the powers, they could talk to each other. But she had been deliberately cutting him out. He gazed at it, willing it to glow. But it hadn¡¯t for ages, not in a long time. Xanthe had blocked him somehow. Or someone else had. Come on, Xanthe, he pleaded. Let me in.


    The stone remained a dull creamy colour, rather like porridge. The dull surface didn¡¯t even glint in the sunlight. He sat down at the edge of the wishing well and half considered jumping in again. Horus would know what to do. That wise old bird had counselled him about many things. He wondered if Xanthe had spoken to Horus. Kit didn¡¯t think so; he thought she wanted to forget all about it. But why? He held the bead up to the light, towards where the moon would be.


    ¡°Come on, help me out here, will you?¡±


    ¡°Who are you talking to? An unfamiliar voice asked, and Kit jumped, almost falling into the well. He pushed out his arm and steadied himself on the edge. He turned to see a girl, Melanie. The girl who made Xanthe¡¯s life hell standing in front of him. He stiffened.


    ¡°No-one he said guardedly as he turned to face her full on. He shoved the bead back in his pocket.


    ¡°Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness, so my granny used to say.¡± Melanie sauntered closer, a smile playing at her lips. She had features that were pretty, but there was something ugly about her. She looked just like all the other girls at the centre. Same style hair, clothing, way of standing. As if they were all programmed. Like automatons.


    ¡°Penny for them?¡± Melanie took another step forward before sitting down on the edge of the well.


    ¡°Penny?¡± repeated Kit. Maybe he could find Xanthe through Melanie. After all, she was her nemesis. She would know where Xanthe was. Anything was worth a try.


    ¡°It¡¯s a saying, you know, penny for your thoughts and all that.¡± Melanie threw back her head. ¡°I can¡¯t read minds, you know. I thought you were the clever one, university and all, like your dad?¡±


    Kit bristled at the mention of mind reading. He wouldn¡¯t want her to know what he was thinking. Melanie scuttled closer to him. It took all his strength not to move away. He didn¡¯t want to offend, miss his chance. Not until he had the information he wanted.


    He forced a smile. ¡°Nothing much to be honest, just having a break from studying, that¡¯s all.¡± He unconsciously brought out the bead from his pocket and rolled it around in his fingers as he gathered his thoughts. ¡°My dad seems to think that taking a break is a bad idea.¡± He half laughed, but he didn¡¯t feel happy. He felt like he was betraying Xanthe. The sooner he could find out where she was, the better.


    Melanie jumped onto the edge of the wishing well and stepped around it, like a tight-rope walker.


    ¡°Get down, Melanie. You could fall.¡±


    ¡°Course I won¡¯t and anyway, you¡¯ll save me, won¡¯t you?¡± She leant over him.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Melanie asked, reaching for the bead in his hand. He pulled away and Melanie screamed as she lost her balance. Her foot slipped, and she tumbled on the rim before toppling over, her hands clutching onto the edge. Kit grabbed her wrists and pulled with all his might. She was heavier than she looked. Melanie got a grip with one knee, then pull the other leg up. She rolled over the edge and back onto the ground where she stood, smoothing her skirt down.


    ¡°That was a close call,¡± she said. ¡°What would they have said if I¡¯d fallen in?¡±


    Kit reached for the moon stone and rolled it between his fingers again, his muscles aching with the effort of pulling her out. ¡°That you were being stupid by walking around the edge?¡±


    Melanie shrugged. ¡°I could tell them you pushed me.¡± She laughed a deep belly laugh and Kit curled his lip in distaste. ¡°Can¡¯t you take a joke?¡± She peered at the bead still in Kit¡¯s fingers. ¡°That¡¯s one of hers, isn¡¯t it?¡± Melanie¡¯s mouth turned down at the corners as if she had a nasty taste in her mouth.


    ¡°Who¡¯s?¡± asked Kit, though he knew full well who she meant.


    ¡°Xanthe, Xanthe Rivers. That¡¯s one of those stupid plastic beads she¡¯s so fond of. Probably from the pound shelf in Woollies.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re not plastic. If you need to know, they are troll beads and this one, in fact, is a moonstone.¡± Kit immediately regretted saying more than he intended.


    ¡°Troll beads, Moonstone? Are you off your rocket like your moon face girlfriend?¡± Melanie mocked, taking out a packet of cigarettes and lighting one. The sickly nicotine smell drafted across his face, and he wafted it away. Usually, it would have set off his asthma, but he hadn¡¯t had an attack since they returned from the Kingdom.


    ¡°She¡¯s not my girlfriend,¡± muttered Kit under his breath.


    ¡°No? I get you¡¯d like her to be, wouldn¡¯t you? I don¡¯t know why. She¡¯s pure evil, always has been. Thinks she¡¯s better than everyone else just cos she¡¯s lived here forever.¡± Melanie blew out a long trail of smoke.


    ¡°She is not evil!¡± choked Kit.


    ¡°Well, you would say that, wouldn¡¯t you? She set fire to my room. How is that for evil? And I¡¯ve seen that mark on the back of her neck. It¡¯s the sign of a witch, it says so in our history project. And that surely means she¡¯s evil.¡± Melanie leaned in, her nose wrinkled with hate. ¡°Won¡¯t do you any good mixing with the likes of her.


    Kit pulled away. ¡°Xanthe is not a witch. Not yet anyway. She probably descends from a witch though.¡± Kit stuttered and stammered. ¡®she¡¯s far better than you any day. She is Princess Ayla if you want to know, the Moon Princess, and she has lots of powers.¡± He pointed his finger at her. ¡°If you¡¯d fallen down there, you would¡¯ve ended up in the Kingdom. It¡¯s a portal. And anyway, you should be careful what you say. Xanthe killed the evil dryad Toovah...¡± He trailed off as the look of horror on Melanie¡¯s face turned to laughter as she stood up.


    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    ¡°Yeah, right? Whatever you say. I¡¯m on my way over to yours. Your Dad has given me a job.¡±


    As Kit watched Melanie walked off, her ponytail swishing behind her, he heard a faint voice in his head. The moonstone glowed. His heart leapt in his chest.


    Xanthe? Is that you? Please, let me in. We need to talk.


    He waited with bated breath, praying that she would let him in. She didn¡¯t let him down.


    *


    Xanthe sat in her bedroom after she¡¯d done everything she could to leave things in order for Doc Stephens. How Melanie would get on with the job, she didn¡¯t know, and she didn¡¯t care. There was only one thing she could do, and that was to make Kit see that this couldn¡¯t go on. She had to make him believe she didn¡¯t care. She would have to be cruel to be kind. There he was again, trying to get into her head. Xanthe swallowed, her throat dry and constricted. It was the only way she¡¯d been on her own before and she could be again. It was the best way she knew it.


    Hey, Kit. She tried to keep it light, not wanting him to get too excited.


    Xanthe! Look first, I¡¯m sorry¡ª


    No. Please. Don¡¯t apologise. I¡­ we need to talk. Can we meet up?


    The words tumbled out of her mind. The sooner she got this over with, the better. A sharp pain in her chest took her breath away, and she bent over, counted to seven.


    Yes, of course! Kit shouted, as if he wanted to make sure she heard him. She put her hands over her ears, but it didn¡¯t help. Where? When?


    Blue Bell Woods. Ten minutes.


    Xanthe then shut her mind, thinking only of the next few moments. When she was sure that Kit had gone, she looked around the house. Trying to take some pictures in her mind. Trying to capture the happiness she had enjoyed here. It just wasn¡¯t to be.


    Her determination set, Xanthe took a deep breath and walked out of the house towards the woods. Bluebell woods where it all started. The beads on her wrist glowed.


    Xanthe sat down under a large elm where she had first met Horus and spent a few minutes making herself comfortable amongst the huge roots of the tree, which erupted from the ground like long fingers. The grass was dry and scratchy. It had been a long hot summer, and the ground was hard, but she eventually found a small dip that suited. The afternoon light was dipping. Soon, with the sun shining through the canopy warming her body, Xanthe dozed off for what only seemed like minutes. Kit woke her, calling her name.


    ¡°Xanthe? It¡¯s me Kit, where are you hiding?¡± His voice resonated around the woods and the bead glowed. His voice was excited. Hopeful. Standing up, she was suddenly unsure of her tactics. She¡¯d hoped to have rehearsed what she was going to say, gently, but now her heart banged like a drum and her palms were slick with sweat. She rubbed them along her leggings. Relax, she told herself, and counted to seven. You can do this, and you will do this. She cleared his throat and shouted back to him.


    ¡°I¡¯m over here by the big Wych Elm.¡± The rustling got louder and Kit came running through the ferns. His face flushed bright red, and he wore a huge grin. She couldn¡¯t help herself and smiled back at him and then realised that she shouldn¡¯t. She focused on the ground in between them.


    ¡°I heard you, you know, like in the Kingdom. I thought we¡¯d lost it. Being back here,¡± he said, the excitement in his voice rising as he stared back at her. ¡°You okay?¡± He held out his hands and stepped towards her. She automatically took a step back. He shrugged and kicked at the dry soil, raising some dust and dropped a bag at his feet.


    ¡°I bought us a little picnic.¡± He pulled out some cider from the rucksack, a packet of crisps and some chocolate Hobnobs, just like their first time when they were looking for the portals. Her tummy rumbled. Her favourites. Kit sat down and tore open a bag of crisps and shovelled some in his mouth.


    ¡°Haven¡¯t seen you in ages,¡± he said, spattering crumbs all over the place. ¡°Sorry for bursting last night...¡± He patted the grass beside him. ¡°Come on, sit down and tell me what you¡¯ve been up to.¡±


    Xanthe didn¡¯t want to sit down, but she knelt before him and grabbed a biscuit to nibble on, trying to gain some time to gather her thoughts. Why hadn¡¯t she thought this through properly? It was so much more difficult face to face. Her stomach growled angrily as the biscuit hovered over her mouth and she chewed, concentrating on what she needed to say.


    Kit squinted as he looked at her. ¡°Have you lost weight? You look, well, thinner and tired.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m alright,¡± snapped Xanthe a little too abruptly and Kit stopped munching, the hurt clear on his face. ¡°I¡¯ve just been busy with helping your dad,¡± she said a little more softly. ¡°He¡¯s been very kind. And I know he wants the best for you.¡± She picked at the daisies in front of her, ripping off seven petals at a time. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I haven¡¯t been around for sometime but I need to¡ª¡±


    ¡°Hey,¡± Kit interrupted, as if he didn¡¯t really want to hear what she had to say. ¡°I¡¯ve been doing some research. You know about your mother. I think she might have a connection to the Larmer Tree Gardens, well the family.¡± Kit was rambling, barely taking the time to take a breath. ¡°The Larmer Tree Gardens, in fact,¡± Kit ran his arm around him. ¡°All this estate and the centre is owned by Lord Rivers and he built the centre on the grounds.¡± Kit took a swig of cider from the bottle. He handed it to her, but she shook her head.


    She knew all about the estate. This had been all she¡¯d known. But it was of no interest to her. In the hall of the Wishing Well Centre there were some information boards about its history. How the Rivers family had donated the land and building to care specifically for children who needed help and support at whatever time in their life.


    That Xanthe had been the only permanent resident had caused her grief in more ways than one. It was difficult to make and keep friendships when the other kids came and went. Melanie had been a regular, but most of them never returned. Once the problems at home were solved and back, they went to their families. To their mothers.


    ¡°Are you listening to me?¡± Kit asked.


    ¡°Of course I am, yes.¡±


    ¡°What did I just say?¡± A smile tugged at his lips.


    ¡°Oh, something about the estate.¡± Xanthe waved her hand around.


    ¡°Nope, I said there was a big white bird¡ª¡±


    ¡°Horus?¡± Xanthe swung around. ¡°Stop teasing me, Kit. I was listening. I told you, Kit. I don¡¯t want to know¡ª¡± she lied. Although she knew Kit would be helpful, she had to do this in her own way. On her own.


    ¡°But I thought, after Nokomi, after, well, you know everything, you are the Moon Princess after all.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to be the Moon Princess,¡± cried Xanthe, ¡°I don¡¯t want any of this. I wanted none of this and most of all I don¡¯t want you snooping around my business.¡± She prodded her chest with her finger so hard it hurt.


    Kit raised his eyebrows and swallowed several times. He shoved the piece of paper he¡¯d produced out of his pocket back in again, stabbing at his jeans. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t mean to intrude, it¡¯s just that I thought¡ª¡± Kit shrugged and shuffled over to Xanthe, who kept her focus behind Kit on a patch of daisies.


    She didn¡¯t know how to tell him gently. He leaned in, pushing away one of her braids and leaned in towards her. He smelt like apples. ¡°I only wanted to help¡±. Suddenly Kit was kissing her, his lips on hers and at first, for a second, she responded before pulling away. She was supposed to be ending their friendship not kissing him.


    ¡°Stop it.¡± She wiped her lips. ¡°You just don¡¯t understand, do you? This is a waste of time, all of this.¡± Xanthe stood up and snatched her bag. ¡°We can¡¯t see each other anymore,¡± she stuttered, refusing to look at him. She couldn¡¯t bear the look on his face and turned away, shaking her head. ¡°I don¡¯t want to see you anymore, Kit. Never.¡± She walked off.


    ¡°Hey, wait. I didn¡¯t mean to¡ª¡± Kit reached out and grabbed one of her wrists, twisting the skin where the tattoo was.


    ¡°Ow¡± Xanthe flinched, and her sleeve skipped up, exposing the two wolves. Kit¡¯s eyes widened like saucers, and she quickly snatched her arm away, pulling down the material.


    ¡°Another tattoo?¡± Kit asked with a sarcastic tone. ¡°Where did you get that done?¡±


    Xanthe shook her head. ¡°I didn¡¯t. It just appeared, like the other one.¡±


    ¡°A likely story,¡± said Kit, his voice thick with emotion. Her rejection had hit him hard, but it was the only way, no matter how awful, it made her feel.


    ¡°Believe what you want,¡± Xanthe replied tartly. ¡°I know what I know.¡±


    ¡°It was always about Malik, wasn¡¯t it?¡± Kit¡¯s voice quivered with his anger. ¡°You blame me for his death, don¡¯t you? That¡¯s why you don¡¯t want to see me.¡± His lips trembled.


    ¡°It has nothing to do with Malik.¡± Xanthe just wanted to leave, return to her loneliness. ¡°This is about me and nothing else. I don¡¯t want to find my mother, and I don¡¯t want to see you anymore. It¡¯s best for both of us.¡± She walked away.


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s right, because you loved the wolf man, Malik, and that¡¯s really what this is all about. I¡¯m not good enough for you now you¡¯re some Moon Princess. Melanie said you were above yourself.¡± Kit¡¯s voice had risen into a shout. The rage within Xanthe at the mention of Melanie¡¯s name rose, and the tips of her fingers warmed.


    ¡°I do not, and did not, love Malik. I don¡¯t love anyone.¡± She thrust her hands forward, unable to control herself by setting light to the dry bracken around Kit and as the flames took hold, she panicked and brought her hands down. Kit beat at the flames with his hands, only making things worse until Xanthe grabbed the bottle of cider and threw it at the flames before turning to go.


    The palpitations in her chest took flight like a flock of birds. Her heart pounded painfully against her ribs, and she felt as if she was suffocating. As if the world was closing in on her. She had to go through with this. She had to make him believe.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Kit, but this is the only way. I can¡¯t be around you.¡± She sobbed. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I don¡¯t want to see you again. Ever.¡±