Chapter Three

"You will need this," Soka explains as the last string is pulled tightly on the corset. Sucking in a deep breath as my ribs feel like they are about to break under pressure, Soka pulls out a slim and long dagger. Simple and sharp, I can see my reflection in the polished metal. "For protection. Many unholy things happen within the palace walls." I nod, taking in my appearance in the mirror before me. Another mirror to bring back the memories of my mistake. An intentional mistake as I know I must accept that.

I had no idea what I did would work, nor did I think I would step through.

So here I stand now, dressed in a corset that punctures my ribs as the thin fabric of a dress is slid over my head. Hunter green, the material a tad worn as I rub my fingers against it. Hitting the floor with a little room to show the brown boots, I actually don't mind the attire, except for the fact it is a little itchy. Soka pulls my hair back into a simple braid, explaining that women within the palace walls and conjoining city still dress formally like this. Explaining that the nobles and royals wear silks and bit more modern gowns, I will look like nothing less than a villager from the werewolf community off the coast of Iduna's second largest island.

"Thank you," I express, taking the dagger and sliding it into my boot as Soka informs it is to stay hidden. Along with that I'm told the rules of how to look, how my chin must be held, to never walk faster than those dressed in silks and jewels, to never let my dress go above my ankles, and to never ever dare put my hair down. Why not to put my hair down? Soka explains only the ladies of the night wear their hair down.

Informed that the ride will be long to the Capitol, my thoughts are placed upon my father. There is a chance I could find him out there. There's a chance I could see my father once more.

"So, does the King mind commoners in his library?" I ask, remembering I'll be in the palace and in a library to search for records.

Soka shakes her head. "He has a private library just as massive, the one you will be in is open to those who give reason to be in there. Luckily for you, for I do believe my gods have shown you mercy though your kind hunts their creations, I know the man who operates the flow of who comes and passes through that library."

"Does the King have a Queen and children?" I ask.

"The King is new, yet to choose a bride, though many think it will be another werewolf from one of the three islands located off the west shore. He is barely even twenty-two."

"Young for sure."

Soka nods. "He took the title only seven full moons ago, his father had passed eight years ago, and his mother ruled until sickness overtook her. Now his parents are with the gods and I pray they are still respected by their people who live on."

So, religion is one important of a thing here. The way Soka talks about her gods and everyone else's just likes me know I'd better not ever insult them.

As the pale morning sun rises over the trees, I take my spot on the wagon, seated next to a chest filled to the brim with magical potions and a small boy who plays with a horse made of field grass. Looking back upon the village, I'm left only to wonder when the next time I'll be back as it becomes only a smaller structure the more time passes bye. Maybe I will return one day. Maybe I will never see these homes again.

For another three hours I just stare upon the views of trees and mountains, missing the technology that would aid me in my boredom. For many minutes I just run the fabric of my dress between my fingers, thinking of my mother and friends who I have now left behind. I left behind a boyfriend as well, one of two years, one who I've grown to appreciate more and more every day we were together. And now, as I sit here, this is the first time I think of him, of Nicholas. I didn't even spare him a thought when I disappeared into the mirror. I was so consumed by the thoughts and memories that I tried to still hold of my father that I just let everything else go from my mind.

In another hour I'm closing my eyes, listening to the horses as their hooves dig into the trail. Soka talks for many minutes to multiple people as five wagons are ahead of the one I'm on. She talks of herbs and ways to make different potions. From what I've gathered she does medical potions for sleep, sickness, and many others that she prices highly. It's interesting to hear about as I imagine lying on my back in my bed, wanting to have the TV on as I know I'm about to leave for college.

But will I ever go home? If my father is here he must know a way to return. But then again, my father has not returned for years. Is there even a way back home? Knowing just the simple lays of portals or whatever you would call it, where there is an entrance, there is an exit. Think of it, in any story or game involving portals, how you can go back and forth between the worlds. The orange and blue portals, how one allows you to enter and the other to exit. For all I know I could be stuck in a pocket universe. Hell, I don't even know what to do if I find records of my father. Or even if I don't find records of a human. This was his life's work, meaning he had a purpose to do this trick with a mirror. But did he really think there was a world that he would be taken to?

For lunch we have a simple meal of some sort of bird I've never heard of as its paired with bread. Ale is passed around on some wagons as I'm left with a small bottle of wine and a pitcher of water to share with three others here. Including the small boy beside me, there's two others, both females, a tad younger than me.

Both bearing sleek and black hair that's pinned back, maroon dresses, and their eyes just like Soka's, they spare me glances every now and then. Sometimes whispering among themselves only to giggle, I know it's about me, how I'm referred to as the pitied wolf. I guess being werewolf and unable to shift is some curse.

"Excuse me, but have either of you been to the palace?" I ask, wanting to be friendly and strike up a small chat.

They ignore me and look away.

"Don't mind them," the small boy beside me comments. He speaks. I haven't heard him say a single word since we left and now he speaks. Shy perhaps. "My mother says they are just going through a phase where they disrespect those they should actually bow to."

They have a right to ignore me. The fact that my kind would hunt theirs according to Soka gives them every right. But what they don't know can't harm them. Right?

"Who should they bow to?" I ask, finding that this child will be my companion for the journey ahead.

"The one who wears the crown."

"Do they not bow to him?"

The boy offers me a small smile, shaking his head to signal that the girls do not. "My mother says they objectify them."

I almost choke on my own air as he says that sentence. Not only does his vocabulary surprise me for a child his age, but how he says objectify. It makes me think of how men objectify women as something to holler at and use for personal gain without realizing that these women have a mind and body of their own. The way he says that statement makes me imagine these two girls think of their King as just some piece of meat. I know it happens, but it's so weird to hear it.

"That's because he is a beautiful as the heavens," one of the girls state, paler than the other as she drops in on the conversation.

"And as deadly as hell itself," the other points out. "They say he holds a power only the gods could have."

How they describe this young King makes me wonder if I should be scared when I enter the palace. How they despise him in my mind makes me wonder just what he has done to be claimed as some vicious monster they both should fear and see as beautiful.

"His mother was so beautiful that countries fought over her."

Helen, that's who I think of. The woman and Queen who Paris stole and took back to Troy to become his wife, only for the great city to be burned to the ground from the inside.

"And now they say the gods plan to bless him with a wife and Queen more pure and beautiful than the Great Queen herself."

Now these two are just talking weird gossip that I would expect from A Midsummer's Night Dream or something else Shakespearian. The two girls return to their own conversation and I am once again left alone to wonder who this King is and what he has done to make him so appraised and feared. Did he kill? Did he cheat? Threaten? Demolish? Was he like Rome when they desolated Carthage? Was he like Caesar when he took over his own country by force? Was he like Alexander the Great when he conquered lands before he even reached the peak of his age?

The two girls state that the gods are to bless him with a wife like none other. Will she be like the wife of Hades, trapped in a dark abyss where her pure soul is constantly tempted by the wicked? Will she be beautiful as they say she is to be? Pure? Why do these people talk so strange when their world was once mine and still is in the same time continuum?

By nightfall we have set up tent, a small fire being lit as a stag is taken from the woods by hunters to be fed upon. As I sit on a log and stare into the fire, something seems to pull me in, to entice me as I create a certain tunnel vision, forgetting the world around me.

It's as if the flames create a dance, the individual flames of the hot fire dancing in a battle, only to conjoin as one. Once the row separate, they begin again, battling out another dance of the fates as the sparks fly high into the night. Looking up to the night sky, I see the familiar constellations. I see Ares, the Little Dipper, and so many others my mother had books upon. She believed my father was even researching the stars for the trick of his career. As I catch a glimpse of a shooting star, my mind seems to shut down as a certain image once again floods my mind.

Those eyes. The eyes that hold the entire universe within two orbs, all the colors and beauty held still as time ceases to exist. A true wonder of the world.

"Wolf."

I look back to the people around me as one of the men who hunted the stag hands me a wooden plate with a slice of meat and small scoop of rice. I somehow miss the cooking of my mother. Though her cooking was rare to experience a usually tasted as you would expect from a child's first-time cooking, I miss it.

As the night drags on my mind constantly shifts as I try and rein age those eyes that makes me wonder who owns them.

Once cocooned within a thick blanket, I shut my eyes for the night, focusing on the heartbeat within my chest as I wonder what my mother is up to. What my mother is feeling. I left my mother all alone with no one around. Sure, she's used to no family around her as she travels and even forgets she has a growing daughter at home, but she always knew she had someone to return home to. She always knew she had someone to make the house feel full. And now, she knows she has no one to return to. She knows the house is empty.

I feel the pull into the darkness, my mind drifts off into the night as I allow myself to fall asleep once more in a new world. A world I have yet to comprehend even a fraction of.

The rows of chairs are packed from front to the cheapest seats, people dressed in their finest jewels and brands as the music plays lightly in the background. I'm different than the rest, yes, dressed in a fancy gown that sweeps the floor and a pearl necklace, but I'm different. No one notices me, no one spares me a glance. No one sees me.

I move on my own, headed down one of the isles as the lights begin to dim. Paper can be heard as people from the press ready their pens and others turn on their massive cameras. As I take my seat next to an elderly couple, I look to the stage where the velvet curtains are shut, and chatter turns to whisper.

Silence as the lights go off. Not a single movement can be seen or heard as my eyes watch the curtains pull back to reveal a beautiful woman.

Her diamond necklace sparkles under the stage lights, a bright smile upon her face as she welcomes the crowd. Beginning with a small joke, the audience offers a joyful laughter that is followed by a tense atmosphere. Throwing her arm up, the first trick is revealed and suddenly, in a puff of silvery smoke, a man appears out of nowhere, a tuxedo tailored to his form and a bow tie fixed to perfection. Both people wear wedding rings, the man with a simple silver band and the woman with a silver band where a massive diamond sits upon it.

Trick after trick the audience claps, and the couple takes a bow, sometimes adding in jokes or even comments about their family. A small daughter. One sitting backstage as she awaits her daddy to tuck her into bed like every night.

I know this night. I've known what night this was since the moment I was in the room.

The final trick is brought out, the rectangular device covered by a silk fabric.

The man explains the piece, how it will be a gateway to a new era of magic tricks and ricks. He explains how this trick will define his career, if it was truly a success as many people claimed, or a doomed path as few predicted.

I remember this. I remember seeing my father disappear and never come back.

And I watch it again, as he disappears into the mirror and the room is silent.

My mother turns the mirror around in a complete circle, showing the slim mirror as the crowd is in awe.

But seconds turn into minutes and worry floods the auditorium.

Minutes turn into a lifetime as I watch the theater crumble before my very eyes and instead I look out upon a reflection of myself.

In a simple room with four white walls and one mirror before me, I look at my reflection, the scared girl before me as a tear slides down my face. I lost everything that night. I lost my father. I lost my mother. I lost my childhood with happy moments I will never get to explore.

Closing my eyes, I allow the dream to carry on, only wanting to wake up and see another sunrise. And maybe I will. Maybe I will see another sunrise, but not just one where I wake up a strange land, but one where I wake up in my bed and head downstairs to see both my parents enjoying a cup of coffee as they laugh and smile as they once did.

Maybe one day everything will be normal. Maybe one day I'll get my Christmas wish and birthday wish from over eleven years of the same wish and dream.

Allowing myself to live the dream a bit longer, I soon stir, knowing another day I a strange land is upon me. And yet, as scared as I should be, a certain feeling within my chest that makes it strain makes me excited for the day ahead.