Chapter 26
I regained consciousness once, bouncing along on a horse, Rowan's arms wrapped around me.
"Where... are we..." I managed slowly, turning my head to look into his green eyes. They glowed with a strong determination in the moonlight.
"There's an old woman who lives in these woods. She knows loads about herbs, and she'll get you fixed up in no time, I promise," Rowan said. "Just hold on a little longer."
I could hardly hear him—fighting to keep my eyes open. I was in a daze, but I knew if I closed them again, I might not wake up. The knife wound in my shoulder throbbed, and I gasped in pain as Rowan lifted me off the horse.
He carried me to the door of the cottage, and knocked. My eyes drowsy, I felt like blacking out again. My shoulder throbbed—the pain almost unbearable. After a few moments, an old woman opened the door. She looked tired. After all, it was the middle of the night.
"Rowan, my boy, what are you doing here?" The woman said slowly. She had long, flowing white hair and eyes that glowed green just like Rowan's. Then, she noticed me, and her eyes widened.
"Fern, she's been wounded. I dressed it as best as I could, but I'm afraid it could get infected. Please, is there any way you can help?" Rowan pleaded.
Right away Fern nodded. Rowan entered the door of the cottage, and I passed out.
—
I awoke groggy the next morning, but the pain in my arm had significantly lessened.
For a brief moment I stared at the unfamiliar ceiling, confused as to where I was.
What happened? I thought.
I smelled the woodsmoke and the scent of fresh herbs.
I heard the distant warble of voices that became clearer as my vision did.
And then I remembered. The assassins. Rowan bringing me to the cottage.
The old woman, Fern. She must have fixed me up while I was passed out.
The cottage smelled of herbs and old wood, the scent of dried lavender and chamomile clinging to the air.
It was small but well-kept, with bundles of plants hanging from the rafters and shelves lined with jars of crushed leaves and strange powders.
A fire crackled in the stone hearth, casting flickering shadows across the walls.
At the dining table, Rowan and Fern sat, having a joyful conversation with laughter that filled the cabin. It looked like a grandmother and her grandson. I don't think I've ever seen him like this. I thought.
I sat up. Rowan turned. "Ah look who's awake, I was starting to think that arrow wound got the best of you!" He grinned.
I narrowed my eyes, "Like hell I'm letting an arrow be the way I die.
But it looks like I owe you twice now, right?
" He'd taken the stab wound for me just a week before, and now he'd saved me from bleeding out.
My life should be indebted to him at this point.
I groaned, rubbing my neck. "I'm still sore, but I feel much better.
Thank you... Fern," I said, smiling at the elderly woman.
"Of course, child. I'll have to admit, I was surprised when Rowan brought you in the middle of the night.
But I'm glad you're alright now." She stood, patting her colorfully smudged apron.
"Here, let me bring you some tea. You must replenish your strength.
" She went to the hearth to pour me a hot cup of tea, and then made her way over to me.
She was a short woman, looking about ninety years and still going strong. With long white hair, she was incredibly beautiful, and her smile held a tenderness that melted my heart. Whatever she did to me last night, my shoulder felt much better than it should've been.
As she handed me the teacup, our hands brushed. Her eyes widened and she dropped the teacup, which shattered on the floor, spilling the hot liquid everywhere.
I saw Rowan's bored expression shift. And I looked at the old woman in horror, "I'm sorry, I..." I began.
"I-I.. You..." The woman stuttered, eyes wide, looking like she'd just seen a ghost.
"Fern? Are you alright?" Rowan stood up right away, crossing the room in an instant to check on the older woman and pick up the broken shards.
"You..."Your soul—" Fern whispered, voice cracking with wonder. She pressed a hand over her heart as if grasping for the right words. "It does not belong in this world."
I went rigid. My secret. The secret I thought that nobody in the world would ever be able to guess. There was such certainty in this old woman's voice—how did she know?
Rowan's brows shot up, but he was silent, watching me and then Fern with a quietness I'd never seen in him before.
I swallowed hard. "I—I don't know what you mean." My voice wavered. It was a pathetic lie, and I knew it.
Ferns' gaze softened with something almost like wonder, as she began to regain composure. "There are cracks between worlds, little slivers where the fabric of reality wears thin. Sometimes, a soul slips through." She tapped a gnarled finger against my chest. "A soul... Like yours."
I gripped the sheets beneath me, my hands clammy.
I trembled, my gaze frantically switching from Fern to Rowan.
I suddenly felt so exposed—my secret laid bare.
There had always been a comfort in knowing that no one else in this world could possibly suspect the truth.
That I was the only one who knew I wasn't her. That I was Tamera, not Rosaria.
"How...?" I finally managed to whisper.
Fern steadied herself, and made a move to help Rowan pick up the broken tea cup. "Rowan, would you be a dear and go cut some firewood?"
"After you just dropped all that on me? No way," Rowan protested. But Fern gave him a stern look, and he instantly backed down and made a swift retreat out the door.
She turned back to me, eyes sparkling as if inspecting a shiny new object.
"How strange. How rare." She exhaled, shaking her head.
"I have lived long, child, and seen many things.
But never have I met a soul like yours. You do not belong to these lands.
You were never meant to. And you... are not Rosaria Leeland. "
I watched her, slowly steadying myself. "How did you know?"
Fern slowly lowered herself into the chair across from me. For a moment, she said nothing—just studied me, eyes sharp despite their age.
"There is a flicker in your soul," she said at last, her voice soft and grave. "A sound out of tune with the song of this world. Most would never notice. But I've walked this earth long enough to know when something doesn't belong."
She folded her hands atop the table. "You wear her face. Speak with her voice. But the thread that binds you to this body is... frayed. It hums with longing for another place."
My breath caught in my throat. She knew. She really knew. But... How much did she know? Did she know that they were all really just part of a book my friend Julia had written, that they were all just following the plotline laid out by her? That I was the only one that knew the future?
I looked down at my hands. Pale, trembling. Not mine. Not really. "I didn't ask for this," I whispered. "I didn't choose to come here. It just... happened."
"I know, child." Fern said gently. She reached across the table and, after a brief pause, placed her hand over mine. Her skin was dry and warm, grounding me. "I have heard it once before, long ago. My master encountered such a girl who fell through the cracks. Perhaps you know her, Grace?"
A chill went through me. Grace.
Of course I knew her. The hero Grace. The grand knight who had brought peace to the land by slaying dragons.
But... what was this old woman saying? Grace was a fictional character.
She did not exist... merely a figment of my friend's imagination. And so was Rosaria.
I couldn't stop the questions from flowing from my mouth. "What do you mean by that? Do you know what this is? Please, can you tell me why I'm here?" I leaned forward, grasping wildly for her hands. I whispered. "Do you... know how I can get home?"
Fern shook her head with a sigh. "I'm not all knowing, child.
I only know what I've heard from those who have come before me, and the way the rhythm of the world speaks to me.
How you came or how to return, I do not know.
" She shook her head. "But I do know... that there must be a reason you have come here.
A reason not unlike how the hero Grace herself was brought here. "
My voice trembled. "No... you're joking," I sighed, in disbelief.
Fern shook her head. "I wish I was, and I wish I could tell you how to return, I really do," She said, sighing.
A perilous journey befits you by fate, it seems. Rosaria's life is yours now.
But you must not become her—let your soul remain your own.
"
Rosaria's life is yours now.
The words fell heavy, and my stomach twisted.
I had never once stopped to think about what happened to the real Rosaria.
Had she been erased? Trapped? Or had she even existed at all?
Was she back on earth in my body right now, living my life?
The guilt flooded in."And... What happened to. .. to her? The real Rosaria?"
"Ah," the old woman sighed, knowingly, pouring herself another cup of tea and savoring the flavor. "Of that, I am also unsure. Fate only knows."
The vague answer left an emptiness of guilt in my chest. Part of Rosaria was still here, I felt her—in her muscle memory, in the sights and sounds that seemed so familiar.
Fern took a slow sip of her tea, the steam curling like tendrils of smoke around her weathered face.
For a moment, the silence stretched between us.
"I don't understand," I said finally, voice tight with emotion. "You say I'm here for a reason. But if that's true... then why is everything in this world following a story I already know?" My voice trembled. Perhaps she would think I was crazy, like I'd always feared.
Fern's eyes flicked up to mine. Calm. Intent.
As if she'd been waiting for me to ask. I continued, "My friend—Julia—she wrote a book about," I gestured around me.
"This. All of this. Back on Earth. Grace was her first character she ever wrote about.
This whole world was just a draft in her notebook, a fantasy novel series she never finished.
And now I'm in it. The same characters, some new .
.. .the same plotlines, some different..
.only it's not a story anymore. It's real.
All of it." The words poured out and I couldn't stop them.
She leaned forward slightly, lowering her voice as though the walls themselves were listening.
"There are dreams that do not stay sleeping," she said slowly.
"They are like souls such as yourself—they slip through the cracks and root themselves into your reality.
Whether here, or earth, or some other place entirely, these dreams reach the minds of other worlds. "
A shiver ran down my spine. So Julia didn't invent this world on her own—it came from her memory, from her glimpses of the history of this world. Like some sort of seer, she must've seen the entire history of this world play out in her dreams and daydreams. "How... how do you know all of this?"
She gave a brief tut, "As I've said, child, I've lived long," There was a knowing wiseness to her eyes.
"I can see the threads that exist between worlds.
Now, untangling them is a different matter.
But somehow, you and Rosaria ended up caught between them.
And just like Grace, your soul found its way here. "
I felt sick. I wanted to cry. To scream. To laugh at the sheer absurdity of it all, like it had finally hit me after all these weeks that I was stuck here. Possibly for good. Instead, I just whispered, "I miss home."
I never thought I would say it—I didn't have anyone around me back on Earth who cared for me anymore.
Yet now, I found myself missing it all—the late nights at arcades or out on the town with friends, going to amusement parks, technology, video games, eating fast food, skyscrapers, dog parks, deep-dish pizza, and even. .. my sister. I missed it all.
Fern reached across, squeezing my hand. "I know, child. But perhaps... there is more of your home here than you realize. The story may have started with your friend—but you are the one living it now. And it has not yet reached its end."
"All this time," I whispered. "I thought it was a coincidence. A freak accident. I never thought that... this place could be real on its own." I'd been living
Fern's gaze was gentle. "It is as real as you are. And perhaps, in time, you'll find that your world and ours are not as separate as you believe."
My mind raced. I looked back at Fern, my voice quiet. "Has anyone ever gone back?"
Fern nodded, "I have heard... of one," she said slowly and wisely, offering me a glimmer of hope.
my breath caught. "Tell me."
The woman gave a small, knowing smile. "I do not know who it was.
And as I said before, I cannot tell you how.
But what I can tell you is that it takes a great deal of courage, and the path is not easy.
" Then, slowly, she reached out, placing a single finger against my chest. "The answer to your way home lies within your own heart, Tamera. "