Battle Ground, Indiana

Claire stepped away from her bedroom mirror and went to stand before the window. Her gaze dropped to the chicken coup, catching sight of her mother. Alexandra Evans was kneeling in the chicken run with a handful of feed, clucking and cooing at her pets as they pecked food from her palm. As if sensing her stare, her mother glanced up. Their eyes met. A flash of concern filtered over Alexandra's features before she replaced it with a smile and waved.

They had the same blonde hair. The same nose and mouth. But her green eyes had come from her father. Her mother's eyes were blue.

She waved back, offering a weak smile in return. She continued to to watch as her mother showered the chickens with affection. Chickens...

A strange feeling stole over her and she pushed it away. She'd had a lot of that lately. Strange feelings, a nagging sensation at the back of her mind, a distant voice urging her to remember. Yesterday she'd felt it during dinner, while looking the Starry Night painting in the dining room wall. The one that hung over the hidden family safe. Earlier this week, she'd had it while changing the sheets in the guest bedroom.

Movement on the gravel drive caught her attention. Her stomach plummeted. Her mother noticed at the same time, and called for her father. Michael Evans emerged from the large red barn opposite their house. He wiped his hands on a towel hanging from his tool belt. He followed her mother's gaze and a frown appeared on his lips, morphing into anger.

The news van came to a stop in the driveway. A crisply dressed female and her male counterpart emerged. Her father was already striding for them, face contorted. "What don't you people understand about leave us alone?!" he snarled, voice drifting up through her closed window. "We don't want you here!"

The female reporter said something, her voice too low to carry.

Claire stepped out of view, putting her back against the wall. She closed her eyes. A tear oozed from beneath her eyelid, dripping down the side of her nose.

She sucked in a breath. It sounded more like a suppressed sob. An entire week had passed and they just kept coming. Like she was some kind of circus freak. A small part of her hoped it had been aliens. That was easier to explain. She simply couldn't understand how she'd ended up in France, dressed like something from a historical drama, with strange glowing markings covering her skin. No one else could understand, either.

With the wall at her back, she slid down to the ground, burying her head in her arms.

The faint crunch of gravel singled the retreat of the reporters. A few minutes later, there was a quiet tap at her door. "Claire, honey? You okay?" Her mother.

"Fine," she called, trying to infuse calm indifference into her voice.

A long silence, then, "Okay. I'm here if you want to talk."

"I know. Thanks, Mom."

When Alexandra's footsteps disappeared down the hall, she allowed herself to think back over the last week and a half—The Ordeal, with a capital T and O, because of how serious it was. Appearing in France, somewhere randomly in the countryside. Being taken to the French police without a single form of identification. Discovering that her parents had filed a missing persons report two days prior, after waiting nearly a week because of a supposed note she'd written—a note she didn't remember writing, despite it being her handwriting. A note that told them she'd be gone for a while, but not to worry. Well, they'd worried!

The French authorities had run her name through a database. She'd been found. News outlets around the world had erupted over the details of it. The days following had been a blur of media, accusations, and confusion. Of tears and exhaustion. Of hiding.

A week and a half later, it still felt like a bad dream. She kept willing herself to wake up. To remember how it had all happened.

The drug test had come back clean, so it hadn't been that. There'd been no bruises, nothing to suggest a concussion. They couldn't even find travel history to suggest she'd booked a flight from the United States to Europe.

It was simply...unexplainable.

She glanced across her room to the upright mirror beside her door. The marks had faded. She could no longer count the amount of times she'd studied them, staring in fascination at her reflection. They'd been so bright that first day in France. Now, they'd faded to a dull turquoise.

The crunch of tires on gravel made her flinch again. She held her breath until—

"Honey, I'm home!" came a crisp, sing-song voice.

A burst of laughter broke through her melancholy. She wiped her tears and crawled to her knees, peering through the window. Her best friend Leah stood in the driveway, staring up at her, holding something in her hand. She pushed the window open. "I thought you had work?"

"Got off early. Thought you could use a distraction." Leah waved the case of Blu-ray Discs in the air.

Even from here, she could make out the cover on the case. A smile pulled at her lips. "I thought you were joking when you threatened me with that?"

"Oh, come on. When's the last time we had a LOTR marathon? It's been ages! Besides, you got any better ideas? I didn't think so."

"You girls can take over the living room," her mom called, stepping off the porch to make her presence known. "I've already got the popcorn started."

Of course. Her mom had called Leah. That's probably why she was here before her shift was technically over. Still, she couldn't be mad.

"Thanks Miss A," Leah said, grinning as she strode for Alexandra and wrapped her in a hug. It was impossible to fight the warmth in her chest at the sight of them. Leah, especially, had been her rock since she'd gotten back from France. Between grocery store runs and late nights on the couch, she'd been there for whatever Claire had needed—whatever the Evans Family needed. None of them wanted to go out in public. Not for a good long while. Not when questions followed their every step.

"Fine, I'm coming down!" she called, slamming the window shut before skipping out of her room. She ignored her reflection. Ignored the fact that she was wearing a long sleeve shirt despite the summer heat.

Downstairs in the living room, they got cozy on the couch, stretching out with blankets and pillows. Her parents hadn't said anything, but she'd noticed the thermostat. Noticed that her dad had adjusted the temperature, clicking it down several notches after she'd taken to covering herself so thoroughly. Just another little adjustment they'd made in the wake of The Ordeal. Even if they weren't really talking about it.

Leah didn't do anything by halves. They were in for the extended edition of LOTR, not just the standard edition. One year, they'd even watched all the filming extras.

"Popcorn and sugar!" Alexandra called, breezing in from the kitchen with a tray. "Claire? You okay hon?"

She blinked, pulling her gaze from the tray, from the familiar sight of it. "Yeah. Just...I'm good."

There it was again. That niggling feeling. That she wanted to remember something but couldn't quite. She cleared her throat. "Do you...is that a new tray?"

"Nope. Always had it. Just don't pull it out often," he mom said. Both her parents had stopped reacting strangely to questions like this. Especially after their first reaction had brought her to frustrated tears.

Their virtual family therapist—because she'd refused to go out in public—had assured her parents that it was okay for her to ask questions like this. That she'd have them as she tried to regain her memories.

Alexandra set the tray on the coffee table. It held a bowl of popcorn, slices of cheese and salami, two glasses of pop, and a couple of boxes of Sour Patch Kids.

"This is perfect, Miss A. Thanks," Leah said, grinning before she attacked the candy first.

"You girls have fun."

"Sure you don't want to join us?" Leah asked.

"Nah. Michael needs some help this afternoon in the barn. I'll see you two later, but come find me if you need anything."

"Your mom's the best," Leah sighed.

It was impossible not to smile. "Yeah, she really is, isn't she."

They settled in to watch, quoting nearly every line in various character voices. Leah was absolutely Team Legolas while she'd always be Team Aragorn. Even if they did have a mutual respect for each other's love interests.

They were switching over to the second movie when she said, "Thanks, by the way."

Leah turned with lifted eyebrows, pausing before slipping the next disc into the outdated blu-ray player. They probably could have just downloaded everything on iMovie but there was something so satisfying about the old tradition of shuffling discs. "For what?"

"Coming to my rescue today, every day. Not pushing and asking questions I can't answer. All that."

"Aww. Clairey. You'd do the same for me."

"I would," she agreed. Not that Leah ever needed saving, now that she considered it. Leah had always been outgoing, strong minded, emotionally mature. They'd grown up together, both determined to get the hell out of this place when they got older. Except, they were both still stuck here, long after they'd hoped to be. Leah hadn't left because her dad had gotten sick. She'd never had the chance to go to college. Then he'd passed away.

Maybe that's why Leah was so strong. Caring for a parent. Seeing them through numerous oncologist visits. Chemo. Surgery. More chemo. Being there through the hard days, then surviving the grief afterward, when none of it worked out the way it should have.

"I'm so lucky to have you," she blurted, watching Leah's face soften at her words. "I really missed you," she added, before realizing how absurd that was. Except, she felt deep inside like there'd been a time she really had missed her best friend. Like they'd been separated months, years even, when really she'd only been gone less than two full weeks. Apparently.

Leah brushed it off. She slipped the disc case onto the coffee table then plopped down on the couch for a hug. They stayed silent for a few minutes. "You know," Leah said. "When you do remember, because I know you will, even if it takes time, don't forget that I'll be here for you no matter what. No matter what happened to you, I'll listen. No judgement. Just support. If you want to tell me—that is."

"Of course I'll want to," she managed, her throat tightening. Leah's face swam in her vision as she blinked back tears. "You'll be the first one I tell, if I do."

"When you do," Leah corrected.

"When I do," she amended.

The music for the second movie started. They both grinned before settling back in. Summer days were long. It would be hours yet before darkness truly fell.

Yet, it felt like it had already arrived. It felt like she was living it, day after day. Like she'd never remember what had actually happened, and that this cloud would follow her. This fear.

Her parents were clanking around in the kitchen, chattering in low voices as they cooked dinner, when the doorbell rang. She hadn't heard any vehicles through the loud volume of the surround sound. She and Leah shared a wary look as Leah paused the movie.

"Want me to get it?"

She exhaled. If she was going to get past this, she needed to grow a backbone. "No, I'll do it."

Her mom popped her head through the doorway between the kitchen and the living room. "You sure, hon?"

"Yeah, it's fine. I got it." She was already working up the courage to tell whatever reporter it was to back off. She caught sight of the blurred person at the door. The glass panes distorted them, but it definitely wasn't a reporter.

She hesitated. Her mom must have felt it because she gravitated closer, into the living room. Even Leah had come to her feet.

She reached for the handle and pulled the door open. It was an old woman, stooped with age, and yet, there was something familiar in her face, her hazle eyes, especially. A strange sense of dejavu washed over her, which didn't make sense because she'd never seen her before. "Uhm. Can I help you?"

A presence materialized behind her, followed by a shocked gasp. And then—"Grandmother?!"

The woman's wrinkled face split into a wide grin, her aged eyes darting between them before saying, "Alexandra Drakos. I see so much of your daughter in you."

"You didn't tell me you had a great grandma," Leah said, coming over to link their arms together, oblivious to the shocked silence that weighted heavy in the air.

"Because I never knew I had one," she murmured, chills racing down her spine. She tried to step backwards, only to find her mother was still there, frozen in place.

Something flopped over in her belly, a keen sense of importance and wariness. For a moment, the old woman flashed young in her mind's eye. Her white hair turned sandy brown. Her face lost its wrinkles. She frowned as the image appeared, then disappeared into the recesses of her mind, inaccessible. She recognized this woman, or a younger version of her. And yet, she couldn't say how. She'd never heard anything about having a great-grandmother. Or had she forgotten that, too?

"Well," Alexandra said, still breathless. "You'd better come inside. Michael will get your luggage. You can stay in our guest room."

Leah had to pull her out of the doorway so that the old woman could step through. Her father was there in an instant, ready to take the suitcase, rolling it into the other room. "Have..." Claire cleared her throat then tried again. "Have we met before?"

"No, dear. I'm afraid we haven't."

"Grandmother lives in Greece," Alexandra explained.

"And I didn't meet her when I visited all those summers ago?" Her brow furrowed.

"No," her mother said, eyes narrowing. "Because she was supposed to be dead."

"Dead?" Claire squeaked, frowning.

"Dead," the old woman confirmed, right as her face split into a mischievous grin. "Looks like I've got some explaining to do."

***

Claire blinked, trying to make sense of things. "So you are my great-grandmother? Or you're not?" she asked. Alexandra looked as if she was struggling too, trying to understand the newcomer's claims.

They were sitting around the dinner table. Her father sat at the head, watching everything in silence. Leah had joined them, claiming that they'd finish their LOTR marathon later. She was wearing a positively gleeful expression as words volleyed back and forth. The food went untouched.

"It's easiest to explain it like that," the old woman said. "I look like a grandmother, don't I? So many generations have come and passed. I always insert myself into our family before disappearing again. If you wanted a more technical explanation, then you might call me your great-great-great-great-great..." Her grandmother frowned. "I'm not sure how many greats, actually. I lost count. But the fact remains: I'm slightly over two thousand years old."

A breath whooshed out of Claire's lungs. "But that's impossible."

"So is disappearing and reappearing on the other side of the world, covered in turquoise tattoos."

"Touché," Claire murmured.

"Are you suggesting," Alexandra said, "that your impossible age and my daughter's disappearance have something in common—?"

"There's no way you're over two thousand years old," Claire interrupted, at the same time her grandmother said, "Yes."

Silence fell around the table.

The old woman sighed. "Let me try again, perhaps from the beginning, this time. I am not from your world. I was born...elsewhere. In a place your daughter is more familiar with than she realizes—or remembers. I came here for my own reasons, but I stayed. I didn't have much choice, actually. The portal I came through didn't have an obvious twin on this side of our world. Finding my way back was impossible, even if I'd wanted to. I didn't. I made a life for myself in Athens. Learned the language. Fell in love. Had children. But...I didn't age. Not normally, anyway. I am not human. I was born a hybrid, the first of two...races, if you will. I'm part spriten and part drengr."

Claire's mouth dropped open. Spriten. Drengr. The words ricocheted in her mind, foreign and yet...not. Like she'd heard them before.

The silence around the table was broken by Alexandra, who said, "If I didn't have so many memories of you while visiting Greece in my childhood, I'd force you to leave my house for speaking such nonsense."

"Nonsense." The woman harrumphed, then came to her feet. She lifted her shirt. There, on her pudgy, wrinkled stomach, was a luminescent marking.

"It's the same as yours!" Leah gasped, covering her mouth with surprise. The rest of them couldn't manage words.

"It's a sprite marking," the woman explained. There was that word again. Sprite. It clanged around in her mind. "My mother had them covering her body. They represent magic. I never wanted much to do with magic, and left my world before I could learn. Though, I did stumble upon it after coming here. Because of that, its presence in my life has extended my lifespan. I'm not human, after all. And you might think I'm old, but my mother was thousands of years older than even I."

Claire couldn't stop staring at the turquoise tattoo, even after the woman dropped her shirt.

"Grandmother..." Alexandra said, like it was a warning, or a plea.

"You said—" Claire stopped herself but it was too late. Every pair of eyes trained on her. She cleared her throat. "You said your mother had those markings covering her body. Like...like me?"

"Exactly like you." There was a gleam in her eyes, like she knew something else too.

"But...does that mean I'm not, like, human either? That I have magic?" She certainly hadn't shown any magical abilities.

"Indeed." The woman sank back into her chair. Her expression changed, eyes gleaming with suspicion. "I think you found a way into that world, and whatever happened there earned you those markings. You certainly aren't human, now that you have them."

"This is preposterous," Michael finally cried, right as Claire said, "And then I came back?"

"Apparently." The woman lifted her brows. "Minus your memories."

"What else aren't you telling me?" Claire hedged.

"I like to think I have an excellent memory," the woman said. "I was young when I came here. Thirteen. But I remember my mother's face. You could be her identical twin, down to the very markings on your skin. My mother was Queen Isabella—queen of the sprites. In that world, that kingdom, I was born Princess Irelia Drakos. I took my father's surname. King Eymar Drakos, first king of the drengr monarchy."

A chill raced down Claire's spine. She gaped at the old woman. Irelia Drakos. The name picked at her. There was recognition in it. She knew it, somehow. And yet, the memories surrounding it were just out of reach, like a word on the tip of her tongue.

She wanted to scream in frustration—

"But...that would make Claire a princess too, wouldn't it?" Leah asked, eyes wide as she looked between them. "If she's like your great-great-great...whatever."

"Yes." Irelia said, eyeing Claire with curiosity. "It would."

Her parents appeared at a loss, shooting glances at each other like they couldn't decide whether to shut this discussion down, or keep it going, if only to sove the mystery of Claire's disappearance. "We should eat," her father blurted. The food had long gone cold, but they dug in nonetheless. She was almost grateful for the distraction. She needed to process this—the absurdity of it.

Magic? A princess? A parallel world?

All her life, she'd never been anything but ordinary, down to her basic college degree, her bar tending job, and even her pathetic love life. Yet, as she glanced down at the marking that peeked beneath the long sleeve of her shirt, she couldn't help but wonder if maybe she was something special instead.

💕❤️💕Don't forget to heart this chapter!❤️💕❤️

Dear Reader,

The scene at the beginning of this chapter came to me LONG before finishing the last book. I was so eager to get to it, I even considered jumping ahead and just writing it out. But I didn't, and I'm so glad I didn't. I let it marinate. And in the end, the decision to bring Irelia back into the picture as a way for Claire to start connecting the dots, took form. 

Sometimes life is worth the wait, eh? 

Hope you enjoyed this one. I will see you next week with a chapter from Saffra's POV.

--Mel