3. Between Two Realities
CHAPTER 3
Between Two Realities
Hawke Stormblood
The moment I put my hand to the door, I’m transported to another place. And it’s daytime. I inhale deeply, absorbing the scents of this new place. It smells real, but I hesitate to believe my eyes. As a Fae, I know the power of illusion all too well.
This place. It’s beautiful and green. Lush grass underfoot, towering trees, and pillowy white clouds floating in a brilliant blue sky. It all paints a serene picture.
I’m standing on a hill overlooking a large manor. The architecture resembles the style of the Fae cities in Avalon near Camelot.
The sod’s fresh scent fills the air. The sun’s warmth bathes my skin, adding to the surreal quality of the scene. Despite its beauty, I doubt it’s reality. When I step toward the manor, the landscape shifts instantly, and I find myself standing on cobblestones in a courtyard.
Reality has shifted again.
Giggles and shouts of children draw my attention to the right. Three children, two boys and a younger girl, barrel past me, oblivious to my presence. They’re dressed like Fae and wearing red and silver Stormblood colors in their hair.
They call out, “Mama, mama!”
A beautiful woman follows them, her belly round and full with child. Mischief sparkles in her honey-brown eyes as she tells them to slow down. Her dark brown hair, styled in a loose braid, sways as she moves.
My heart aches and I reach out, wanting to touch her. There’s something so perfect, so beautiful, so mine . Which is ridiculous. I’ve never seen this woman before in my life. And she’s obviously wedded with children and another on the way.
My hand goes right through her body, like she’s an illusion. And the setting changes again. Suddenly, I’m inside a room, no, the throne room of Camelot. I would recognize it anywhere. I grew up in the castle and called it home for so many years.
Standing there, I grapple with the swift changes, trying to make sense of this place. Is it a dream? A conjured illusion? My mind races with questions.
My father isn’t sitting on the throne in this scene, it’s me. People are dancing and celebrating. Some walk through me like I’m the spectral illusion. Maybe I am. But everything and nothing at all seems to be real.
I blink, and the world shifts once more, leaving me outside again.
I’m standing on one bank of a gurgling quick-flowing stream and on the other side of the water is a woman. The same bright brown eyes from before. The same dark hair, but it’s bound tightly to the back of her head and mostly hidden under the strange hat she’s wearing. Her clothing isn’t Fae either. She’s wearing pants like a warrior would. And a plain blue shirt, but no armor.
She’s also not pregnant.
I look around for the children from the last vision, but they’re nowhere to be seen. I still have this overwhelming urge to touch her. I want her. In my arms. Right now.
She’s not ignoring me in this variation of the illusion. She staring straight at me. Like she can see me.
But that would mean this isn’t an illusion any longer…
“Who are you?” I ask, needing to know. Needing to hear her speak.
I take a step closer to the water and she tracks my movement, her eyes darting from me to the water to the forest of trees surrounding her on all other sides. She’s nervous or frightened, I’m not sure which. Maybe both.
“Where am I?” Her voice is light and soft and laced with a layer of anxiety. Her body language is screaming that she’s ready to run.
“Are you real?” I ask the words more to myself than to her. I crouch and touch the earth and stones beneath my feet. It’s there. It’s real, maybe... I grab a few pebbles from the bank of the stream and squeeze them in my fist.
I’m Fae, I can create illusions like this too. It could easily just be a lie, a creation meant to distract me. Or it could be my mind losing control and creating an illusion I’d rather live inside than reality. That scenario is much more likely.
“Real? Yes, I’m real. Are you real? Where am I? Where is this? Who are you?”
Her words tumble so quickly from her lips. Such pretty, pink, soft looking lips. I watch them move and I wonder what they would feel like against mine. I wonder what it would be like to have those lips on my skin. On my cock.
Fuck. What the hell? How did I just go there that quickly? What did she say? Did she ask me a question? Where she was…who I was. Except I don’t know where exactly this place is.
I drop the pebbles and stand, meeting her panicked gaze. “How did you get here?” I ask, looking at her again. Really looking. Her body is small and curvy. Her pants accentuate the beautiful curve of her bottom and her hips. The loose button up shirt hugs to her breasts. There’s cleavage showing and her skin looks dewy and bright, so very bright. Different from the rest of her skin. Like she’s hiding something that’s glowing under her shirt.
Then she’s gone. Evaporated into mist.
No.
I look back and forth up and down the stream.
Where did she go?
Melinda Mayweather
The air erupts with screams, jolting me away from the stone door. My heart races. My hands tremble. It’s still closed. I didn’t go anywhere. Or did I? Confusion swirls in my mind. Who was the man I saw? Why didn’t he answer me? Fuck!
More screams pierce the air, a soundtrack of terror. My father, only a few feet away, grips a pistol in his hand, aiming at the chamber’s entrance. His gaze briefly meets mine and I see a mix of fear and determination.
“Mel, the door—how do we open it?” He shouts over the chaos. “What happened when you touched it? You froze, but I heard your voice!”
I move towards him, desperate for the safety his presence offers. But he sharply shakes his head, his eyes signaling me to stay back.
“No! Focus on the door, honey! You have to go through it,” he shouts, his voice strained with urgency.
Another scream, chilling and close, echoes from outside. Gunshots rip through the chamber, the sound deafening in the enclosed space. Bits of rock spray through the air like shrapnel.
“Dad!” My voice breaks, torn between running to him and the impossibility of the stone door before me. Is it even a door? Just a carving? Desperation tightens its grip on my chest. “I don’t even know if it opens.”
“Touch the door again, Mel. Find the answers,” he yells and turns back to firing his pistol at the chamber entrance.
With a racing heart and tears blurring my vision, I do as he asks. I turn back to the door and press my palms against its cold surface. In an instant, the chaos fades, and I’m plunged back into the other place.
The bank of a beautiful stream. And he’s there again. The mystery man, and now he’s wading through the stream towards me.
Hawke Stormblood
She’s back, but less corporeal… I can see through her and see others around her. Hear them screaming. My chest tightens. There’s shouting and fighting and the sound of small explosions.
She looks frantic. “I’m trying to find Avalon. Is this it? Please help me. The Inquisitors found me. I need to get through the door. How do I get through the door? Please, they're going to kill everyone!”
She pauses and looks at me, waiting. But there were so many things packed into those very quickly spoken flood of words and questions.
What door is she talking about? I touched the Earth door in the Hall of Realms. She’s not there. She’s not in Camelot with me. I’ve never seen her before. Who is she?
I’m losing my mind. I’m hallucinating. Creating my own reality. Fuck.
But I want to touch her. Mine. Mine. Mine. This deep primal part of me is growling and demanding I cross this stream to her right now. If I can just get to her, maybe I can keep her here. Keep her safe.
Even if I am going crazy. I’m keeping her with me in this twisted reality.
I push through the water faster, but she disappears again. “No!” I shout. “Give her back!” I yell, ordering whoever or whatever is controlling this illusion to return her. This place we’re in isn’t real, but it isn’t not real either.
Melinda Mayweather
“Fuck!” I stomp my foot, frustrated to be yanked back to reality out of the place–wherever the place is–-it’s something. Maybe Avalon. Maybe a way to Avalon.
A bullet slams into the door beside me, shattering the stone and sending shards biting into my arm. I cover my face and duck down. Panic and adrenaline race through my system making me feel like I could punch a hole in this door if I hit it hard enough.
When I turn around, my father is still firing at the entrance. But I can see the red flame insignia on the uniforms of our attackers, confirming they are indeed Inquisitors – Hunters, killers, executioners of anyone with magick.
And if they are at the chamber door. They’ve gotten past Margo, Dottie, and Lars… A lump forms in my throat. Which means they’re… I can’t complete the thought.
Nausea churns in my stomach.
I lean against the door, trying to steady myself. But then, just as abruptly as before, I’m back in that other place.
I shout at the man. I have seconds before my father dies. Before I die.
Hawke Stormblood
“How do I get the door open?” she pleads, tears running down her cheeks. Her voice is frantic. Terrified.
My body, mind, and soul scream to save her. To do anything, everything, to pull her from danger. I battle through the current in the stream, but barely make any progress. Something is keeping me from reaching her. Probably my own damn mind.
The last thing I want is for her to be a figment of my imagination… or madness. And what if she’s not. What if she is real?
“Stay there,” I command, even though she appears to be trapped, without any real choice.
But maybe she does have a choice. Maybe she’s shifting between realms on her own accord.
Her scent, a distinct citrus fragrance, now stands out amid the damp earthiness of the water and trees. It’s her glow, though, that truly holds me captive–a soft light pulsing beneath her shirt at her collarbone. It sings to me like a fucking siren’s song, blocking out everything but it. There’s something about her. Something I desperately need. Something I would sacrifice my life to protect.
I’m more than halfway to her. A half dozen more paces and I’ll be on the other side of the stream. I’ll have her in my arms.
“I need you to do something. Please!” she begs again.
And I want to. I want to do anything, everything to save her, but in my next breath, she vanishes.
“No!” The word rips from my throat, a desperate plea into the emptiness. I surge forward, my heart racing, my spirit shouting into the abyss. “Come back! Give her back!” The words echo, hollow and unfulfilled. Scrambling up the bank, I circle the spot where she stood mere seconds ago, my eyes searching for any sign of her. For any clue. “Where are you?”
My chest heaves with frantic breaths, each one a mix of frustration and burning need. She was here. Right here. And now she’s gone.
The world lurches, and I find myself back in the Hall of Realms, face-to-face with a growling Wraith Shadowbear.
Fuck!
Melinda Mayweather
I’m back. Again. He was so close, just a heartbeat away from reaching me. If only we could have touched… maybe that would’ve opened the door and changed everything.
“Ahhhhhh!” I unleash a guttural scream and slam my hands against the cold, unyielding stone. I pound on it, over and over, each thud a plea. “Let me in!”
Nothing happens. “Please!” My scream dissolves into a wail, tears streaming unchecked down my face. I’ve failed. Failed everyone. “Please!”
There’s no answer. No more mystery man.
I turn away from the mocking silence of the stone, my heart sagging in defeat. Where’s my dad?
I see him.
He’s crouched behind the pool’s short wall. But he’s not firing his gun. He’s barely moving. Fear cinches around my heart. I rush and dive down to the ground beside him.
“Dad.” My voice is a whisper, choked with tears. I reach out, touching his arm, but he doesn’t react. “Dad?”
Panic surges through me and I tug on his arm. He sags against me. Blood trickles from his mouth. “No. No. No.” I frantically wipe away the blinding tears, searching for a wound that needs pressure. There are too many. His entire shirt is soaked red.
“Dad, no. Please,” I beg, cradling his head in my lap. “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t open the door. I’m sorry. I’m broken.”
He coughs weakly and looks up at me, meeting my gaze and shaking his head slowly. “N-not…” He struggles, blood choking his words. “Not broken,” he manages to say. “Y-you just don’t un–” Another cough racks his body, then stillness.
A profound, deafening stillness.
“No, no, no, no, no, no!” My cries fill the chamber, echoing and multiplying and surrounding me in my own grief. What’s left of my heart shatters into a thousand pieces.
My family is gone. I'm left with nothing but the crushing, overwhelming guilt—the knowledge that I brought death down onto everyone I loved.
“Well, well,” a cold voice cuts through my sorrow, “you are a difficult girl to pin down, Melinda Mayweather.” A tall, dark-haired with a rifle steps forward. A half dozen laser points dance over the front of my shirt. “Thank you for leading us to this special place. We couldn’t have found it without you.”
His words strike me like a punch to the stomach. Betrayal, loss, and an overwhelming sense of failure engulf me. He’s right. I’ve led them here, to this special place. Even though I didn’t get the door open this time, it doesn't mean they won’t eventually figure it out and destroy whatever it’s protecting.
Not only have I failed my family, but perhaps an entire other world. My heart sinks further, the last fragments of hope slipping through my fingers like sand. Everything my family tried to protect me from. They died for nothing. The Inquisitors have me. And now they have the door to Avalon, too.