The WishKeeper (The Paragonia Chronicles) (26 page)

KABOOM! The Gate exploded with a powerful force, rattling the tree and shaking the earth. Elanor screamed as her grapple came loose. She fell and though Beren was right behind her, his frozen hands couldn’t hold on. He tried catching her, but she slid out of his arms and fell toward the ground.

“Elanor!” Beren yelled.

Shea and Avery made it to the branch, hiding from the pulsating golden light of the Gate. They didn’t hear Beren’s scream, but when they looked down, two quick flashes of white light sped through the woods. Shea saw her mom falling, but she was helpless.

One of the flashes sped below Elanor and caught her just before she crashed to the ground. Goren grunted and pulled her up, zooming to the Gate above. Foster rushed to Beren and pulled his General back up into the tree.

They finally made it to the slippery bark of the branch, hiding from the pulsating light of the Gate. There wasn’t time for thank you’s or health checks and since the hum was so loud, they could barely hear each other anyway. Elanor strained to get up, but looked at Shea right away. She pointed to the Gate, making sure Shea went through first, but Shea shook her head and yelled, “No! You first!”

“Injured first!” Beren screamed, and though it was barely audible, they didn’t have time to argue. He grabbed his wife, looked at Goren and nodded. He saluted through gasping breath and Beren noticed his tunic was caked in blood. Quickly looking at Foster, he noticed the same. Foster was exhausted, kneeling and barely conscious, but still maintained a salute to his General.

Elanor saw the same thing Beren did and yelled, “Injured first!”

Avery suddenly grabbed her two friends and pulled them through the Gate. When they disappeared through the golden light, the Gate exploded again. Shea was just to the side of the Gate and dodged the force of the explosion, but it knocked Beren and Elanor off the branch, falling once again to the forest floor.

Shea didn’t hesitate, she cracked a wrangling spell around her parents, catching them in mid-fall and though it tugged her out of the tree, she managed to stay afloat buzzing her wings, pulling and pulling, tugging and tugging. The hum of the Gate cranked in volume, piercing the fairy’s ears. It was closing.

With every ounce of strength Shea and her new wings had, she whipped the wrangling spell back up into the tree, throwing her parents through the Gate. With one hand, she grabbed hold of the branch and just before the Gate exploded for a final time, she jumped through.

37

When Avery Died

It was Wishing Eve, the night of the first True Love Wish’s destruction and the WishSentinel, Charlie, knocked on General Beren’s door. He knew he needed to simply follow orders, but his curiosity couldn’t help but buzz. Why would the General, on Wishing Eve, assign a Sentinel to guard his own house? No one was home, and frankly, very few WishKeepers were in Paragonia that night anyway. He looked in through the windows and his assumption was confirmed; it was empty.

He stood upright, wand at the ready, and mocked a few high-stepped struts back and forth in front of the door. It was a cool evening with barely a breeze as the crickets scratched a tune in the thicket of the nearby woods. He admired his General’s home. It was humble, yet strong. Fitting, he thought.

With a deep breath, he sat down on a knotted old tree stump just outside the front door and enjoyed the quiet of Wishing Eve.

Charlie was wrong, of course. Someone was home. He didn’t see the frail body of Avery standing in the middle of the room. He didn’t see that her hair had turned from a bright, hopeful pink to black - almost as black as her eyes. She stood motionless in the dark like a wraith caught between worlds, swaying with an invisible black breeze. Then the swaying stopped.

Her head and wings slowly lifted as if reacting to a silent call. Black dust trickled off her shoulders and slowly her pale hand reached into a pocket and removed a long, crooked dagger. She walked in a trance to the front door, stopping to look through the tall, skinny window that rimmed the entrance. Charlie was sitting on the stump with his back to her, picking the petals off a yellow dandelion.

Quietly clicking the front door open, it creaked as she swung it toward her. Charlie jumped up, startled, and saw Avery silhouetted in the doorway.

“Oh miss, you frightened me!” he reacted, pushing a giggle through the rush of adrenaline. “I didn’t think anyone was home.” He paused and took a slow step toward her, concerned at how frail, tired and sickly she looked. “Are you OK, miss?”

Avery smiled sad, weak and tearful, and stepped toward Charlie with open arms as if asking for a hug. The look on the poor girl’s face was enough to make any fairy want to help, and while Charlie felt extremely awkward hugging the stranger, he obliged.

“Oh, come now,” Charlie said, lovingly. “Everything will be alright. It’s Wishing Eve…”

Her head was rested on his shoulder. Her arms were wrapped around him, and the dagger was slipped into the side of his neck. As she dug the dagger further in, her black eyes watered and filled up with silky tears that cascaded down her cheeks. No look of pain or sadness was on Avery’s face, but deep down she knew. She knew it was the end of more than just one life that night. She knew Avery was dead.

Charlie slumped to the ground, limp and lifeless. Stepping over him, uncaring and unfazed, Avery removed her wand, pointed it behind her back and cast a black spell around his body. He evaporated into thick black smoke and she casually flew off across the valley, straight for Exclamation Point.

It was dark in the thick forest outside the Death Wish Cave, except for the light of two lanterns held up by the Sentinels standing guard. A crack of a stick. A rustle of leaves. The Sentinels looked at each other, worried for a moment. The quiet of the forest rushed back in and they smirked at each other for being so foolish. They were proud to serve their General and follow orders, but they both agreed there was truly no reason to stand guard at such a secret post.

Avery stepped out from the shadows of the wood and stood in front of the guards. Her black eyes set within her pale white face made it seem they were floating in the darkness. The Sentinels raised their lanterns, barely able to make out what was glaring at them. Avery’s cursed smile was the last thing they ever saw.

38

When The World Ends

The explosion of the Gate tossed the escapees into the dark, foggy edges of the Paragonian valley. Though the blast’s golden light was strong, it merely ricocheted, bounced and quickly dwindled against the powerful, thick darkness of Erebus’ dense fog that had spread throughout the land. It took a few moments for Shea to gather herself. Not only was she exhausted, but the stark difference in temperature and climate was disorienting. She knew they had crossed over, but it was as if they’d slipped into a half-awake nightmare. Barely any of the Paragonian landscape could be seen through the fog and though they knew it was mid-day, it was only because the moon wouldn’t be able to cut through such a blanket of darkness. The sun was barely succeeding, though a slight, silhouetted glimmer of its warmth was attempting to fight its way into the afternoon. It did little to help them see much of anything - visibility was hardly ten feet and for a moment, Shea felt a wave of panic slip over her when she couldn’t find her parents.

“Mom! Dad?” she called out. The fog whittled away her words, painfully halting them as they escaped her lips. Could anyone hear her, much less see her? She called out again and thankfully there was a response, though it sounded as if it came from another world, not just a few feet away.

“Shea! We’re right here. Where are you?” Beren returned. Elanor was on her knees, struggling to stand and not only because of the pain, but her injuries had taken over even more than the impending return of the curse.

Goren tended to his friend. Foster was sitting, leaning back on his hands and grimacing through whatever wound he’d incurred after the WishKeepers had fought off Erebus in front of the house. Beren still didn’t know what happened and why only two of his Keepers had returned. He didn’t know exactly how many faithful WishKeepers came to help, but from the size of the light blast, he assumed at least a few dozen not including the nine members of The Hope. He didn’t have time to listen to a debriefing. His wife’s health was quickly failing and from the look of the surrounding fog, Erebus was moments away from consuming the True Love Wish.

Trying to brush the fog from her face, Shea crept toward the sound of her father’s voice. Hazy images of her team finally came into focus; her mother on her knees hunched over and Foster cringing in the grass. Beren was kneeling next to Elanor with his hand on her back. The past few days had quickly shattered every preexisting belief she had about her parents. They were no longer the strong, unbreakable pillars she once thought them to be. For so long, and even after she lost her mother ten years prior, they were always two immovable forces, always right, always perfect, even if she disagreed at times. They knew what was right and could do no wrong, but suddenly, as the wafts of smoky fog briefly cleared around them, she understood that they were not any different than her. They were simply fairies struggling with their own inner fears, doubts and pain, and while some are lucky to experience a slow, evolving realization that parental figures are not as perfect as previously believed, Shea was forced to face up to it like a thrust of a hammer driving a nail. Nothing in her life for the past decade had been easy, but somehow, as she stood there looking at her equals who were supposed to be superior in every way, the heaviness of adolescence slipped from her shoulders and a new, even more distinct weight set in. Not only did her shoulders feel it, but so did her heart. The blind reliance that childhood so easily conjures was gone. They depended on her now and her life, like the onset of a sudden summer thunderstorm, shifted into adulthood.

As Shea came into the clearing, Beren looked up. She could tell his eyes were fighting back more than just tears. Shea noticed an odd, out of place look of pride in them. Goren stood, almost as if at attention and Foster forced himself to do the same. Elanor raised her head and noticed them showing respect for her daughter. The swelling pride helped Elanor gather enough strength to stand, though she used Beren’s hand for guidance. They all looked at her with reverence and for a moment, she thought they were going to bow. Please don’t bow, she thought. Please stop looking at me like that. It was unnerving to be shown respect, something of which she had wished for years and now suddenly she couldn’t help but feel it was undeserving. It didn’t matter where she got the strength to pull her parents up and toss them through the Gate. There was nothing special about her and, truly, it was her fault they were standing in the thick onslaught of their WishingKing’s deceit. Goren and Foster helped just as much as I did. “Please stop looking at me,” she continued to thoughtfully beg.

Finally Beren broke the awkward silence and placed a hand on her shoulder. He could tell she felt suddenly exposed. Simply nodding in approval, he patted her once on the shoulder and for the first time, Shea was thankful for her father’s inability to express himself.

He purposely shifted the attention away from Shea and looked into the blackness of the nearby forest. The fog was so dense it blew in the breeze and wafted around the trees. The giant oak tree was a few feet in front of them, rising up out of the darkness and spreading its canopy of branches overhead. Right away, Shea knew this was Winston’s Gate and a rush of panic once again set in. Peering into the tree, she noticed a small, ancient fairy standing guard, looking right at her. Winston tipped his hat to her and smiled just before he sat back down and rested his hands on his chest. Shea wondered if Winston knew what was going on. If he knew that his was the last Gate to close. She sent the old fairy a silent thank you.

“The last one,” Beren said, finally breaking the silence. The gravity of it all settled in as their little team stared at the oak. The last Gate. The last of a million gateways to The Other Side. For the first time, the WishKeepers were trapped. For the first time, all the wishes of the world were lost.

“Foster?” Beren said as he looked at his wounded soldier. Foster knew it was a simple question of ‘are you OK’ and he nodded back to his General. “The blood?” Beren asked.

Foster glanced at his friend and Goren didn’t have the heart to respond. “It’s not mine, sir. After we cast the light spell around the house and Erebus retreated, we were ambushed by Lost Fairies. Somehow the light only made them more fierce. We were outnumbered, sir.”

Beren nodded again, barely reacting to the news even though deep down he was devastated. Something suddenly dawned on him as he looked at everyone. Foster and Goren were there, Elanor and Shea of course, but…Avery.

“Avery. She came through the Gate, didn’t she?” he asked, swiveling his head from side to side, searching.

“Yes sir,” Goren said, suddenly confused. “She pulled me and Foster through.”

They all limped uneasy through the darkness, eager to find their friend. She couldn’t be far since the Gate cast them all in the same area, unless she was unconscious and with the blanket of fog being so crippling…

“Avery!” Beren called out. The rest of the team followed suit and joined in.

A faint, almost muted voice woke Avery as she blinked her eyes open. Lying on her stomach, the left side of her face felt the cool moisture of the forest grass. It tickled her cheek as she painfully pushed herself up, but she couldn’t make it past a hunched position. She paused on her knees, caught in a rush of pain, and stared at the wet ground in front of her. There was an immeasurable amount of throbbing soreness that pulsed through her - something all too familiar. It had never really left, even after Erebus was cast away ten years ago. At times, over the past decade, a fleeting wave of tenderness would catch her off guard, as if it was foreign to feel anything other than anger or resentment. There was another fairy somewhere deep inside her - the pink-haired, unconditionally loving creature that was blissful, joyful. The fairy that fell in love at first sight.