Abby giggled a bit when the sprinklers came on, amused by Erik’s sense of humor in using water to discourage would-be vandals. She tried to dash home, but running with a laptop, diaper bag, baby and baby carrier isn’t nearly as easy as it sounds, so she was forced to give it up after only a few steps. Besides, she didn’t want Molly to literally be a “bouncing baby girl.”

Now she realized her earlier assessment had been in error; the vandals weren’t members of the Ditto Team itself, but apparently just some young strangers caught up in the enthusiasm about “that word.”

But when Erica and her entourage arrived on the scene, Abby couldn’t help laughing at what she saw: the “ditto artists” dropping their things and dancing around the yard, trying to avoid an unexpected shower – not to mention Erica and a young man Abby didn’t recognize trying to wrangle several agitated fairy dragons flying overhead. Erik’s going to be sorry he slept through this, she thought.

The unknown artists managed to collect most of their equipment and run away by the time Abby arrived, but Erica and her friend were still dealing with the flying fairy dragons. The jade female placed everything she'd been carrying on the ground at her feet and waited a moment, just out of range of the sprinklers, until the preprogrammed time had elapsed and the system shut itself off. The sudden drier weather, and the absence of the ditto enthusiasts, helped relax the fairy dragons somewhat.

But when the creatures saw Abby waiting, several came over to investigate. They seemed especially interested in Molly, who was much closer to their size and bore at least a superficial resemblance: wings, talons, tail. Abby watched warily as one even came to roost on the handle of the baby carrier, but quickly flew off again when the hatchling nearly snagged its tail with her little hand.

Abby confirmed her daughter was all right, then smiled at the girl and her friend, whose eyes seemed ready to bug out of his head. “Hi, Erica!” she said. “Sorry about all this.” She gestured at the lawn sprinklers. “It’s Erik’s idea of home security. You’re all welcome to come in and dry off, and then you can introduce me to your friend. I bet I can even find a few refreshments.”

She picked up Molly’s carrier, stepped to the building’s front door, and placed a hand on a small plate. The plate seemed to glow and after a moment a pleasant female voice said, “Welcome Abby Silvermoon.” She opened the door and led them inside.

Alex jumped, startled, when he spotted a large, ferocious-looking stone statue in the foyer. It looked much like this Abby did, but was far bigger. To his surprise she walked up to it and gently ran a talon along its stone face. “Don’t be afraid,” she winked. “He won’t wake up until sunset.”

Katherine’s intention to track down her friend was interrupted by a hand reaching out and snagging her arm from a nearby shadow. Having not been the first time it happened, Katherine reacted by reaching for the dagger she kept in her waistband when she was not carrying her sword. Just as her fingers wrapped around the hilt, her elvish name was hissed into her ear in a familiar voice.

“Salabis! What?”

The other woman put a finger to her lips and gestured for Katherine to follow. The two women slipped from shadow to shadow until they reached the safety of the forest. Even then, it was several minutes before Darth Devaricate turned to face her sister-in-law.

“Greetings Rochil,” came the melodious Sindarin.

“Darth!” Katherine squealed softly and wrapped her friend in a hug. “How are you? How’s Guin-nor?”

The other woman smiled back. “He’s good. We finally told his father.”

“How did he react?”

A soft smile tugged at her lips, “It took some time, but he has accepted us. As a matter of fact, Gwanuig has sent me to get you.”

Katherine stared at her friend blankly for a moment. As the realization sunk in, butterflies took off in her stomach. “It’s time?”

“It’s time. The King wishes to see you.”

Erica didn't know whether to be cross or entertained after the initial shock of being in the midst of a rather high powered and very cold sprinkler system, then her brother slipped and fell on his butt while trying to grab Ember. That broke the tension. Erica started giggling, and both were laughing helplessly by the time the water shut off.

Alex stopped laughing rather abruptly when he saw what the fairy dragons had flown over to investigate. "What is that?"

"Not what, WHO. Don't be rude." replied Erica, giving him a slight shove. "That's Abby and her baby. I don't remember the baby's name. You ask her so I don't look stupid. Let's go."

A moment later the pair had squitched over to the sidewalk (one more reluctantly than the other.) "Hello Abby!" called Erica and after Abby's apology, "Oh don't worry about the sprinklers. It looks like they were necessary from all the crazy Dittoers I wonder what set them off."

A moment later Abby had kindly invited them inside. Erica helped her carry everything while Alex tried to explain that he was Erica’s brother, not her “friend.” Not that that meant they weren't friends. He stopped short when he caught sight of the statue in the lobby. While Abby wasn't much bigger than the average human, the statue was huge, and surprisingly lifelike, all of this stone muscles tense, almost as if would spring on them if they were a threat.

"Don't be afraid," said Abby, winking at Alex, "He won't wake up until sunset."

"Oh, it's real, I mean, of course it's real. I mean alive, yes. At sundown and stuff. What's the name of your baby?" Alex babbled while both fairy dragons settled on his shoulders.

Erica rolled her eyes at her brother. "He just got to Ditto Town," she whispered to Abby. "Where do you want this," she added louder, holding up the laptop.

“Oh, thanks for bringing that in, Erica. Put it on the table over there, next to Erik, please.”

Abby turned her attention to Erica’s brother Alex. While inwardly amused by his response to her choice of interior statuary – such nervous reactions were nothing new, and certainly better than the outright fear and hostility she’d seen on rare occasions – she wanted to help him feel a little more at ease. She stepped closer to him and whispered, "It's all right. Stone gargoyles often have that effect when you see them for the first time. He looks ferocious but you don’t need to worry. I know this is all new to you, and I’d be glad to answer any of your questions."

She spoke more loudly. "Alex, this is my mate – my husband, you would say – Erik. He's just catching up on his sleep today.

“And this" – she proudly lifted the little lilac-and-green hatchling out of the carrier – “this is our daughter Molly."

The girl giggled as her mother gently ran a talon along her slender tail. “She’s really ticklish here,” Abby confided. But once Molly caught sight of the fairy dragons on Alex’s shoulders, she immediately stretched herself out, reaching toward them, almost falling out of her mother’s grasp in the process. The child’s wings even flapped a bit in her enthusiasm. “Whoa! You’re way too young to try flying,” Abby said with a chuckle, reining her baby in. “She’s already getting to that age where she’s curious about everything,” she explained to her guests.

The young mother distracted Molly with one of the jalapeno hushpuppies before leading the group to the Emporium's great room. It was spacious with comfortable reclining chairs and a couple of cozy couches. Large windows offered a view of the woods behind the Emporium, while a large television screen and an even bigger hearth – both dark at the moment – dominated the room.

"You're all more than welcome to stay a while; I know Erik will be thrilled to see you again, Erica, and to meet you Alex. If you'd like to make yourselves comfortable, I should get this refrigerated," she added, gestured to the carry-out box from the Cup and Platter. "I can offer refreshments, and then I can give you a quick tour of our home, including Erik's pride and joy, the stardome planetarium."

At a distance of a quarter of a mile outside the main city limits of Ditto Town there is a slender, rather ethereal looking Willow Tree, its long viney branches blowing in the unseasonably warm breeze, and its delicate leaves dancing as they’re tossed to and fro. Curiously enough, there is a good sized garden spread out on leveled ground to the right of the tree, and on the left is a medium sized shrub, probed against which are what appear to be rather shorter versions of a shovel, a rake, and mucking bucket, and, as if all this were not strange enough, hanging just above a waist height crevice in the tree is a wooden sign that reads “Ainne’s” in daintily carved letters.

In the Willow’s garden there are all sorts of helpful looking plants, thyme, lavender, coltsfoot, a small mustard tree, and many more, but there is by no means a shortage of not so useful floral beds. Here and there, scattered throughout the rows of medicinal herbs and roots are peaceful little sections full of fragrant poppies, and dahlias, and tea roses that bend and sway with the passing of the wind and birds.

In the center of the garden, there is a reasonably sized grass ring, all trimmed and lush, and green, and sitting cross-legged in the middle of this ring is a girl. That is to say – not a normal girl at all, she is perhaps (though it does not reflect her twenty two years) four inches less than five feet, with pointy little ears that curve ever so slightly at the tip and similarly small pointy features. her slender fingers rest gently in her lap and through the light fabric of her robe you can see the rise and fall of her calm breaths. She has dark, almost black, hair that catches on the same breeze as the willow branches, and above her softly closed eyes arch somewhat wild little eyebrows. He lips are turned just slightly up at the corners and her high cheekbones are blushed lightly with rose and a scattering of pale freckles. Her milky-white skin looks just as likely to melt away as the last traces of snow in the spring, though in truth her kind has skin so hard that it can hardly be penetrated by any blade of steel. There’s a slight glow emanating from this translucent flesh that makes the girl look almost like a reflection of the summer moon and for this reason she keeps a hooded cloak always clasped at her collar bone so that she can dim her candle-self if a need should arise.

It is quite likely that a need would arise, she is, after all the daughter of the chieftain of the mighty Amir clan, the younger lady of that Magielle tribe, daughter of her royal mother who, along with the girl’s father and little brother, has been abducted by a rival clan who sought to steal the northern forest land that had, for centuries belonged to the Amirs. In thruth, that is why she is here, to be very precise, She is something of a run-away, come to this lovely little place as a way to escape the notice of the seekers of the rival clan (the Ornin). But it is well, after all, she found this lovely warped tree and has made her splendid garden, and there is even a warped little bush, quite close to the tree, that makes a marvelous home for her Reine (The large horse-like creature that stands in the position of being her only transportation aside from her feet).

All-in-all she’s happy to abide here while the war captain of the Amir clan and his mighty Magielle men derive a plan to restore the northern forest-land to its rightful keeper. She’s happy to stay, and right now, on this unseasonably pleasant day (though most of the time she prefers cold weather) she is also very happy to sit, with her legs crossed, her hands resting like butterflies in her lap, and her hair and cloak tossing on the gentle breeze, wondering how on earth she's managed to live here a whole year and never have got up the courage to go and tell the good folk of the town about her small apothecary.

~Elaina

Let me inform you, dear reader, meeting a person who makes you slightly uncomfortable in public is one thing, meeting said person again in the sanctity of a place of enjoyment and safety is quite another. But perhaps I should just show you instead of boring you with the dry telling.

Our heroine did continue her lessons as instructed but she withheld something of herself, she had awoken to the fact that the notes she played coloured the world around her irreparably if she lost herself in the phrases and melodies and cords. The pianist was distant in turn. She refused to learn what he taught, and he knew no other way of reaching her. His very being seemed contained in his music, and in passing the art of its making on. The lower quarter reeked of him, he was a magician painting spells in the shadows, weaving ghosts out of the fog and filling the night with melody. His intent was benign, yet his skills were frightening in their power.

The young lady wasn’t so afraid of him though. She was like him. Also, when she saw his little sister peering out at her shyly from corners, or heard her giggles coming from some upstairs quarters, it made the house more homely. That was why she felt her world tip slightly when the man in the music room was not the pianist, but her sponsor. He was talking to the little sister, who grew frightened and ran away at the presence of an older lady. It was all so strange. Why should the young girl talk to this gentleman who had never set foot in the house, but not to her brother’s pupil who was so often in her home?

“Good morning Ms. -----------. How are you finding the weather? I’m afraid the pianist cannot be here today, but has allowed me to stay in his home for a while and see how you’re progressing. He has complained to me that you’ve not applied yourself of late.”

The criticism cut deeper than the young student expected. She’d been trying very hard to play good music, but without spilling subtle magic into the air around her. Yet she was well breed and kept her peace, muttering affirmations. Again the older gentleman invited her to sit at the bench.

She sat and laid her hands upon the keys. The music chosen for the occasion was very melancholy indeed. The young lady made a very pointed effort to add jarring pauses and accents to the piece and drain it of its power.

“Young lady, what are you so distressed about? You treat the poor keys with the upmost indecency. It’s lucky they cannot cry out in pain.”

“If my skill on the piano forte displeases you, you may well go to another quieter room. Then you need not be distressed by the sound.”

The man in black behind her seemed to grow larger in his anger. “Insolent girl, what reason could you have for such uncharitable...”

The girl suddenly realized just how frightened she was of the man, but her pride had been insulted and she refused to be cowed. She spoke from both fear and anger. “What reason do I NOT have? You think because my father is poor and you’ve given him money that you own me? I am not a slave that you may entertain yourself at my expense. I shall go back to... to... where I came from if you insist on degrading me!” Strange. She couldn’t think where her father’s estate was.

The man adjusted his glasses and took a deep breath to calm his temper. “I only wish you to excel. I have no desire to take advantage of you or your family. Are you so afraid of your talents? But I won’t distress you further. If you wish to go home, you are more than welcome.”

“You talk as if you had nothing to do with my brother’s death.”

The girl’s eyes grew wide at what she had said and she covered her mouth. She had not the faintest notion why she had said such a ridiculous thing. Her brother was alive and well. He was an officer in the King’s cavalry. It was as if she was dreaming and couldn’t control what she said, or even understand it. The older man observed her for a moment, but to her relief actually seemed less agitated than he had a moment before. Instead he sat down and started to play his own song. It quieted her mind and she sank down onto a stool. The music lasted some time. When it was over, the girl couldn’t remember what had distressed her only minutes ago.

The man finished the piece and stood up. “You should go home and rest child.”

“Oh, should I? I could listen to you play for hours sir. But I fear I’ve had a horrible shock, and I can’t remember what it is. You are right, I feel I must go.”

“Of course, if you are unwell, it would be cruel for me to keep you here.”

Our heroine departed, relieved to quit such strange company, but feeling vaguely as if she’d forgotten something.

The young lady heard singing in her dreams, but she couldn’t find where it was coming from. The singing was like her playing. The very notes that vibrated in the air changed the world around them. Something in the world was indeed changing, and if she couldn’t find where the singing was coming from, she would lose something... something valuable.

She followed the echoes, slipping down from her bed and tiptoeing out of her quarters, unsure of when she had awoken. She seemed no closer to the noise than before. It was fleeing away, or perhaps it was everywhere. It was always beyond her reach. She realized suddenly that she needed a piano, but there wasn’t one in her residence, and strangely enough, she was quite sure she would need to go all the way to the pianist’s house to find one tonight. It was the last place she wanted to go, fearing almost irrationally that the man with the white hair and gold-rimmed glasses would be there waiting for her. She hesitated instead of calling a coach, as if he would know she had done it. The music would not last forever, and if she could give it the answer it deserved, she was sure her heart would stop, or go on beating for no purpose. Perhaps she could sing if she couldn’t play. When she tried to open her mouth and sing in response all sound caught in her throat, it was as if she were mute, or, even stranger, as if she was already singing that song. As if she was singing that song somewhere else...

Somewhere else? Strange sensations washed danced around; although girl wasn’t sure she was in the centre of them anymore. Could you ever escape the centre of your own existence? Look back and see yourself without a mirror? Or maybe there was a mirror. It didn’t show her reflection back clearly to her. As the girl stared at the reflection she saw that she was lying down on a bed, but she was much smaller and darker. Was she even human? She touched the smooth surface and noticed how it wasn’t even cold, even real. Even real...

“I’m dreaming...” she whispered, then louder, almost with glee, “I’m dreaming. I’M DREAMING!” If she was dreaming, she could change the dream. There would be a piano in the next room. She rushed down the hall and threw open the door. It was there, a piano forte that should not have been.

She could hardly contain her excitement as she sat down, and began to accompany the unearthly singing that surrounded her.

Avon woke up.

It was like splashing cold water on her face. It stung and shocked, but it was so wonderful and real all at once. She was awake, she was herself.

Of course she was not herself. Her monthly enchantment was upon her. She was a black swan again. A swan singing the strange song that she always sang at the full moon. It hadn’t had any meaning before. Now she knew that somehow, it was changing the world, but unlike the dream, the change only lasted as long as the song. Here her music couldn’t reverberate and rework the foundations of reality. Reality isn’t made of vapour.

Avon as a swan escaped the sheets and flew down to the floor, taking in her surroundings. She was in a comfortable enough room, but it was clearly meant to contain her. It had a bed in the centre with a round carpets around it pattered with strange symbols, and four fireplaces at the four compass points for warmth. Avon shuttered and wondered if they weren’t part of the enchantment that had kept her asleep and dreaming for... she didn’t know how long, but she felt very shaky, and it seemed like an alarming amount of time had passed. Of course, the room was meant to contain a girl, and not a swan. There was a large skylight in the centre of the high ceiling to let light straight down into the room. It was a glass window, but perhaps if she flew at it hard enough?

Of course birds occasionally flew through windows, but the girl shuttered to think that it probably wasn’t particularly pleasant for the bird. Suddenly she heard footsteps outside the door, mounting stairs up to her. Of course the man knew she was awake. He wouldn’t let his spell be broken without his knowledge. Ravenbrook was coming. Rumours of the nation with the insane magician for a leader abounded, and of course, he was often described as looking almost civil (unlike the rest of his family) except for his wild white hair which bespoke his fairy origins.

So in her dreams, she’d been talking to a mad king and magician who was not even completely human? And now she’d broken his enchantment and he was coming. All these thoughts passed through her head so quickly it made her feel faint. She’d always been sickly. How was she going to get out of here alive? She didn’t stand a chance of even breaking the window without wounding herself. The footsteps stopped outside the door and the handle began to turn.

That decided it. She spread her wings, sang as loudly has her swan throat would allow, and leapt into the air. The window came up fast, and she barely had time to tuck her long neck before she crashed into it. Sharp pain ran through her wings and chest and an icy wind buffeted her. She landed on a roof and began sliding. Blind in the darkness she managed to regain enough sense to start flying again, off the roof into the dark cold night. But thank heavens, the stars were bright above her, a guide and anchor.

She flew in a short circle then realized she had to follow her song. It made no sense, as it was coming from her bill, but there was a clear direction to its effect. She could wing her way after the notes like a compass needle.

She began to fly unsteadily towards the sound when another bird was in front of her, eerily silver in the starlight. Moving too fast, she couldn’t stop herself and the birds buffeted into each other. Somehow they broke apart again. The swan who was a girl couldn’t think clearly enough to try and lose the creature, she could only beat her wings desperately following her song. Her breathing was coming in gasps now and the song wavered. There were whole moments when she couldn’t seem to find it at all. There was only the furious beating of wings and the cold cold wind trying to push her any way but the one she wanted to go.

But she couldn’t give up. Her lungs were hot with pain and her wings ached from the impact she’d had with the window. Then talons dug into her side. She cried out and the music was gone again. The two birds plummeted towards the earth, fighting each other. There was a sudden meeting of whipping twigs. Then they meet water that was impossibly colder than the air. The swan finally managed to get away from the white bird (which was clearly a raven.) In the water, she had an advantage, despite being injured.

But strange thing of strange things, she had found the song. The music seemed to echo from the water itself, much like it had filtered into her dream, except it seemed to belong here. Even as she glanced down, the stars seemed to dance in response to the song, a song of hope and spring and wild things. The water grew warmer.

The raven had landed in a branch above the pool. He fluttered his wings and began to croak frantically, hopping up and down the branch. Then he leaned forward and his eyes became more human. She could see it even in the low light. He spoke.

“Your brother drowned in this very swamp. Will you follow him down to his grave? Is that what you are trying to open?”

The swan didn’t know what the raven meant by opening anything, but his words filled her with a terrible awe. Her brother drowned here. His cold body might be only a few hundred feet away. She looked down again; an irrational fear gripped her that she would see his dead face in the water. Instead she noticed the reflection. The water mirrored light that was almost daylight, although it was so green that it must have been filtered, the trees all had leaves on them. Of course it should have showed night and skeleton branches.

The raven didn’t see it. He skipped down the branch triumphantly. “Come back to me, or you will meet his fate. I won’t harm you. Come back.”

Avon looked at the raven a moment, then dove under the water. It was easy for her to swim down into the depths. She dove deeper and deeper, padding towards the light, when she felt something grip her from behind and dig into her leg, she tried to kick it off, but talons dug in cruelly. For a moment she thrashed with her enemy, lost in vertigo then the surface and air met her. She was a woman again, and the light around her did indeed seem like daylight, warm and far away.

The strangest thing was that she was standing in a very shallow pool of water and she didn’t seem wet at all, in a forest of great sleepy trees that seemed like they had always been growing, just as they were now. There were other pools as well, in all directions as far as she could make out in the strange light. It was a peaceful place. She might have stepped into the grass, laid down and forgotten who she, but she couldn’t. Ravenbrook was there too.

Abby hummed to herself as she prepared a platter of treats and the water heated for tea. She loved entertaining guests; her happy daughter and the lovely weather outside only made things better.

Even now she could hear Molly giggling – she was probably trying to catch the fairy dragons again – as well as the soft tones of Erica and Alex’s conversation.

But then came a cacophony of sound the young mother would never forget.

The loud squawking of the fairy dragons was immediately followed by a pair of loud screams and Erica calling “Abby!”

She dropped what she was doing and ran. As she rounded the corner into the great room, she was met with the sight of the fairy dragons fluttering overhead and terrified expressions on the faces of her human guests. Molly wailed. Abby wanted to hold her child close, comfort her.

Then Abby’s mind registered that she’d heard another sound, one her race had long dreaded – a sudden, staccato hammering that had lasted just seconds. She turned from the still-crying hatchling and raced toward the Emporium’s foyer.

Somehow, the building’s front door was open – she was sure she’d secured it when they’d come in earlier – and the cheery sunshine fell upon a sight that filled her with terror. Despite her heart’s ache, she bypassed this and charged out into the front yard. Maybe she'd catch those responsible for this atrocity.

But there was nothing out of the ordinary – a few clouds and birds overhead; in the distance a doe and her fawn peered out of the forest.

She returned to the foyer and knelt among the stone shards that littered its floor. She lifted her head and howled in agony. In an instant, life had unimaginably changed.

She gradually became aware of little things: fairy dragons hovering about her, even resting on her shoulders and cooing soft sounds in her ears. Erica and Alex watching from the door, horrified yet silent, not sure what to say. And her precious Molly, crying yet safe.

She would never forgive herself for somehow leaving that door open and allowing this attack on her helpless mate. She gingerly reached out and gathered a few bits of the shattered stone that had just hours ago been her beloved, alive and healthy. She managed to whisper through her sobs. "Forgive me, my love, for failing you. I’m so sorry."

The joy of the morning, of watching Molly play with the fairy dragons, seemed like another world now - one forever lost to her. How could she go on? She had to, if only for her daughter's sake. Abby vowed then and there that her child would grow up hearing about her father's kindness, courage, and love.

An unexpected cramp seized her; she grimaced and thought, And there's another reason to go on.

Unwilling to take consolation from anyone or anything, she wept and made a silent confession. I never got a chance to tell you the good news, my beloved.

The pain repeated, joining that of her aching heart. She gently touched her belly and whispered, "I'm sorry you'll never know your father. But you'll learn all about him."

Lady Ainne Ylenne Amir (or "Nia" for short) rose at long last from her meditative position in the centre of her garden. She sighed as she stretched her legs after sitting for so many hours in one spot. Well, it had only been two hours… but her legs were stiff and she had things that needed to be done. It was that time of year that required the airing out of sheets and blankets, the shaking off of mats and rugs, and the mixing of fresh salves because the ones from last year were beginning to set and before too long the setting jars would be ready for a new batch. Which should she do first? She stretched her slender arms up and reached towards a cloud that was floating by at an altogether lazy pace while she decided. Well, first she would make herself some breakfast. You couldn’t do anything on an empty stomach well… Nothing productive at any rate. Lifting the edge of her lavender robe ever so slightly, she traipsed off towards the entrance of her abode, stopping only once to snatch up a handful of goldenrod from a corner in her garden.

Once inside, Nia set about making a substance that looked and smelled not altogether unpalatable. As a matter of fact, the aroma that it emitted was positively divine, and Nia didn’t dare open her window (which, though it was the size of a bay window on the inside, consisted of a knothole from the outside of the warped willow) for fear that every crawling critter and flying bird for miles around would come flying in through it with no respect for a body’s personal property. It took no longer than a half hour for the delectable food-stuffs to be prepared (Nia had somehow managed to have everything on hand) and once it was all ready it was everything the young lady could do to wait to eat it until she ladled it onto a plate and laid the table with a single setting.

I will omit a description of exactly how good Nia’s breakfast was, nor will I tell you presicely what it consisted of, because, beloved, it would make your own next meal entirely bland in comparison. All I can say is that she ate it, and very good it was. And after she had eaten it she decided that it would be a good idea to take a trip into town, to see what she could find in the way of lace curtains, that way she could do her spring cleaning with a true sense of dignity (our Magielle maiden was ever so fond of lace curtains). Go into town she did, and she brought Milo (her Reine) with her, because the day was so very fine, and she felt just dreadful leaving him here all alone on such a walkable sort of day.

The rode wend sweetly this way and that, and Nia found that she could have almost believed that it would go on so forever – a prospect that was not entirely displeasing. There were daffodils to the right, and morning glories to the left, and the sun shone above her in such mellow warmness as to lull her half into a delectably purple sort of trance. More than once she got off of Milo’s back so that she could feel the soft soil scrunch beneath her tiny feet. And several times she bent over to the side of the road to gather up this or that wild flower that exposed itself between the tall blades of springtime grasses.

Ditto Town came upon her gradually at first: a low stone fence here, a white-washed cottage there, until quite suddenly, there she was, no longer in the open country-side but in the realm of a gaily bustling villiage – with a lovely, clambering square at its heart, and in the center of that stood the cheeriest fountain that any forest dweller such as herself ever saw.

“Well, now.” She said aloud to Milo “Isn’t this just splendid.” It wasn’t a question, It was a fact, and even if an angel himself disputed it she would hold as fast to it as though it were a doctrine.

~Enna

The two siblings heard the strange noise, but didn't understand what it meant. Erica and Alex were enjoying the hospitality of Abby, everything was normal.... no, perfect, until the fairy dragons jumped into the air simultaneously with shrill cries. Val's talons dug into Erica's shoulder and Erica cried out in surprise.

Little Molly added the helpless cries of a baby a moment later. "Abby!" Erica screamed, because she didn't know what to do with the baby and her brother was running in circles after Ember and Val, who careening about the room so violently that it was clear they could hurt themselves.

Abby came running, collected her little one, and without another word, ran for the foyer. Erica followed automatically, her shoulder was pounding. In the confusion, it took a moment for her to remember that Val had actually scratched her. Funny thing to forget.

Erica entered the foyer and stopped so suddenly that Alex ran into her. The fairy dragons were right behind. They had followed the humans, not wanting to be left alone.

Since she had only been in this room once before, it took a moment for Erica to realize what was shattered across the floor. Then she looked closer at the rubble and recognized a piece of... no. NO!

"I'm dreaming. I'm dreaming. I'm dreaming," Erica chanted quietly, frozen in the spot where she'd first understood.

"Wait, everything's fine right? I mean, there's no blood, it's just stone..." Alex trailed off, the reality that nothing alive can be broken into a thousand pieces be put back together, not with all the money and science in the world. All the king's horses and all the king's men were as useless as he was.

"I'll go get help," said Alex helplessly.

Erica's mind spun aimlessly, resting for a moment on her sticky shoulder, on how sunny it was outside, on how Alex and slipped past her to get a better view, then fixed on her first memory of Ditto Town when she had quite literally dropped into the Cup and Patter thanks to Val. Eric had been the first person to greet them...

Abby came back into the room from outside, and dropped to the floor, also broken, clutching her stomach and her baby. The fairy dragons were the first to come arrive and comfort her. The humans followed, avoiding stepping on even the smallest shards as they crossed the vast room.

Not knowing what to say, Erica stood near, still waiting to wake up. Hoping with all her might to wake up. After a moment that seemed wrongfully long, Abby looked up and everyone.

"I'll go get help," Alex repeated, and fled. Erica wanted to follow him, but she couldn't leave her friend alone.

Kirane and Ryana walked inside the Cup & Platter. Kirane looked inside and saw all the unfamiliar faces, not all of them looking… quite human…. It was a strange experience, and for a moment she had to admit she was staring, but… in an odd way, it was refreshing as well. She was accepted on her old home despite not being human, but it was nice to not be alone anymore.

Ryana, naturally, was wholly unfazed, and walked up to the counter. Cheerfully, she greeted the bartender, “Hi, Hugh. My friend Kir—”

Suddenly, she was interrupted by a loud, almost constant beeping. She started, and admitted aloud, “It’s… never done that before,” before pulling out what looked rather like a pair of headphones with a microphone—Ryana’s PATROL communicator. She put it on, pressed a button, and asked, “Hello?”

“Hello? Ph… Phoenix Archer?” Ryana knew Abby’s voice, even over a microphone, but it still took her a few seconds to realize who it was. Her voice barely crackled through, wracked with sobs threatening to break, familiar gargoyle fury, and… something else… guilt?

Ryana forgot Hugh, forgot Kirane, and immediately demanded, “Abby, what’s going on? Where are you?”

“At the Emporium… someone attacked… Erik….” Ryana’s eyes widened, instantly drawn to the sun. It was the middle of the day; if… Erik wasn’t using his pendant….

“Who did this?!” Ryana demanded. The fury in her voice was enough to quiet the entire Pub. She shook it off, knowing this wouldn’t help. “Abby, help is on its way. I’ll be there as soon as possible.” Abby stayed on the line, but someone else had just come on; they could help her. Ryana turned to Kirane and said, “Change of plans; we need to go to the Emporium, now.”

“Wait, wha—“ Ryana grabbed Kirane’s arm and virtually pulled her out the door. Once they were outside, she extended her wings, so quickly they almost hit the Pub’s front windows. She grabbed Kirane under the shoulders, flapped her wings, and took off. Finally, Kirane got more words in: “Ryana, what happened?”

“That was Abby Silvermoon. Someone attacked her husband at the Emporium.”

“Who?”

“Abby and Erik Silvermoon are gargoyles. They’re good, very good people; they run an observation emporium on the outskirts of town. And when I catch the man who did this to him—”

“So, is… Erik all right?”

Ryana shook her head. “No. I don’t know if you have gargoyles in your world, but… they turn to stone during the day.” The implications suddenly washed over Kirane; her horror almost matched Ryana’s fury. “Abby seems to be using her pendant, the one that keeps her flesh during the day, but….”

Kirane nodded understandingly. “What can we do?”

Her flyer shook her head. “No physician in the world can help him if that’s what happened. But… maybe….” She glanced at Kirane, truly looking at her for the first time since this happened. “With a miracle, you might be able to help him—and you’re probably the only person in Ditto Town who can.”

A few minutes later, they were flying over the Emporium. Ryana started coming in for a landing, when she happened to glance up, and saw…. “HIM!” A dark figure, a man Ryana didn’t recognize, was running full-speed away from the Emporium, though a back door. Only one reason for that. “Kirane, how low do you need me to get before you can get off?”

Kirane glanced at the quickly-approaching building and ground. “Just go a few more feet… now!” Ryana, only slightly reluctantly, let go. Kirane fell for a few feet, before grabbing on to the side of the building. She set both hands and feet against it, turning the wall into a semi-liquid material that slowed her fall without causing much friction. It wasn’t the best way to fall, but… she had to hurry. She quickly ran to the front door, saying to the unfamiliar girl near the door, “I’m a friend of Ryana’s; she thinks I can help.”

Meanwhile, the Phoenix Archer shot straight up over the Emporium, did some quick trajectories in her head, and dove down towards the fleeing figure. She’d left her bow at home, but had both of her daggers. She pulled out her left one, pointing it at the figures’ feet; a blue ray emanated, and once it reached the ground, it froze into ice. The man slid on the ice, crashing to the ground with a cry.

Ryana landed mere feet away from him, a stream of avian sounds coming from her mouth. The man probably should’ve been glad that he didn’t understand the words, though the tone was keenly obvious. He started trying to stand; she threw her dagger at him. Out of sheer luck, it caught his leg. She unsheathed her other dagger, and held it to his throat. “This one creates fire.” She told him in venomous English.

The man did his best to hide his pain, and defiantly stared her in the eye. “And the Organization would be very interested to learn how.”

She grabbed him by the collar, lifted him, and slammed him into a tree. “Why the Emporium? Why Erik? He’s more valuable to you alive.” She pushed her dagger a little closer and added, “And killing him was just a plainly stupid move.”

The man let out a pained, but triumphant cackle. “I needed the distraction. With his ‘mate’ distracted, no one noticed me accessing the Emporium’s main security system. And now, the timer has been set.” Ryana’s eyes widened in horror, her grip on the man lessened, as he sadistically added, “You’re going to need to say goodbye to more than just him.”

A few seconds later, the sky exploded in an array of fire and heat, accompanied by a world-shattering BOOM.

Right outside the Emporium, Alex was at a loss. He didn't know where to go for help. He was unfamiliar with the town and his mind was foggy with panic and horror. Ember had come with him, but wasn't any help, circling overhead frantically and occasionally flying inches from Alex's face, or into his face. Then he remembered. During his tour yesterday (could that have possibly only been a day ago?) Erica had showed him the Town Square. If he could find it again, people would be around this time of day. He fixed on the idea and started running.

Alex was halfway there when he realized how stupid it was leave Erica behind. One person was dead (being?) What if the murder was still around and he’d just abandoned his sister?

Turning around so fast his hand went to the ground to steady himself, Alex righted his body and sprinted back faster than he thought he could run. Then the world was suddenly unbearably bright and loud. Alex was thrown backwards as the force hit him. He landed on his back and knocked his head against the ground. He lay there for a moment while the world spun above him, his lungs remembered how the breath again, and his heart pounded too much blood through his too-small veins. His ears couldn't remember how to hear after the bang and were serenading him with muffled ringing.

Alex sat up and looked. The Emporium was a fireball. At least half the building had been blown out and rubble was scattered away in all directions. Steel support beams that had held up walls and the dome were twisted outward like broken ribs and bent in impossible shapes, while behind them the raging fire leapt eagerly towards the sky and billowed smoke.

"Erica! ERICA, ERICA!" Alex screamed, running towards the ruined corpses of the building. He threw one arm in front of his face as an inadequate shield against the heat.

The young man more or less tripped over the two figures lying prostrate on the ground. Just before he hit the charred earth with his face, his mind had enough time to wonder why the girl had wings.

The young woman groaned; her body felt as if pierced by hundreds of tiny shards of glass. This actually wasn’t far off, as she’d been standing less than a block from the Emporium when the explosion had destroyed the structure.

Her head pounded and her ears rang; every sound seemed muffled. She lay quietly a moment as the pain gradually subsided and she felt brave enough to stand.

She couldn’t believe her eyes. The grand building lay in ruins and the street was littered with glass and brick. Only the fact that she’d happened to be standing behind another building had kept her from an even worse fate. As it was, her injuries were mostly limited to lacerations from flying glass.

She stumbled around, lost; this wasn’t her home town and now everything was chaos. She’d somehow wandered into town, and wanted nothing more than to find her way back home.

But what was that? A tiny cry seemed to be coming from the rubble. She turned back to the twisted wreckage of the Emporium. Surely nothing could have survived that blast!

But there it was again! She had no choice; she gingerly made her way through the ruined steel beams and stone that had once formed the huge observatory.

“I’m coming!” she called repeatedly; “Keep calling out to me.” In this way she hoped not only to encourage this lone survivor but also to zero in on his or her location.

There! Below that table! Apparently the victim had been trapped under the furniture, or had sought protection there.

The young woman managed to push it out of the way, but she was not prepared for what she saw. A body, burned and broken almost beyond recognition as human, lay there, unmoving. The cries, softer now, came from underneath it.

Urgently, yet with as much respect for the dead as she could muster, the woman moved the body. Her heart leapt to see the source of the cries, alive, yet broke as she realized what must have happened. This tiny child lived because her mother had covered her, shielded her with her own body. Indeed, she’d held her child close to the end. What love, what sacrifice!

“Shh, shh, I’m here now,” she cooed as she picked up the infant. “Auntie Shannon is here now, and I won’t let anything else happen to you.” She talked, primarily to calm the shivering baby with a soothing voice. “Now, how badly are you hurt?” She carefully inspected the girl’s body, glad to see that she seemed to have only superficial wounds. Her mother had indeed saved her, sheltered her from the worst. “Hmmm…What’s this? Not quite human, are you, baby?”

It was true; the tiny child had green skin, along with wings and a tail. But to Shannon’s credit this made no difference. This little one was apparently alone in the world and certainly needed care to survive – care she would be honored to give.

Glancing again at the mother’s prone form, she saw similar features, though the wings had been almost burned off in the blast. A tear made its way down Shannon’s face. “Who could do such a thing?” she asked the little girl, who by now had snuggled up to her.

“Well, honey, let’s get you out of here, maybe clean you up and find you something to eat. I hope you eat people food.” She grinned at this last.
Shannon turned back the way she’d come, and in moments the pair was back in the forest outside of town. She stopped at a stream and scooped up some water, which the little girl eagerly drank.

Shannon had already fallen in love with her new charge; not only did the baby need her, but she seemed to fill some empty longing in the older woman’s own life. “You have such pretty green skin,” she mused as the baby drank. “How about if I call you Jade? It’s a pretty name, just like you.”

The newly-christened Jade cooed and gurgled. “Jade it is then.”

And so it happened that the last Silvermoon came to be adopted by a human woman who knew nothing of her birth name, her gargoyle past or heritage – yet longed to provide the love and nurture she would need.

(And the death of Erik and Abby remained unknown in their home world – at least until several curious young pairs emerged through the portal, eager to find out why they’d heard nothing from the couple. But that’s another story.)

It began. It ended. It only took a hundredth of a second, but the imprint left was sharper than any lightening can leave. Erica’s world had tried to end, then space had folded up at the corners

It took a long time for the ringing to pierce Erica’s consciousness, and then Erica realized Val was wrapped so tightly around her neck that she was getting a choking sensation. Erica's hand's went to her neck and to her relief, Val, relaxed slightly and came unwound, her tail wrapping back around Erica's wrist instead. The fairy dragon was shaking so hard.

That was when Erica realized she and Val were no longer with Abby in the Emporium. Of course they weren't. The two of them, teenager and fairy dragon had teleported like always, except it was nothing like before.

Before, the act had always been instantaneous to Erica. They were in one place, then they were in another. This time she was in one place, in shock at the murder. She'd heard another loud sound, different from breaking stone. She had thrown her arms up and felt the heat. Then she'd felt the corners reality rippling impossibly as Val reached her. Time seemed to have stopped for a second and Erica wasn't anywhere. She could breath, or move, or scream. She was in the infantesamally thin Nowhere that kept the two points for spilling into each other. And she was Somewhere again. "Is that what you always feel when you teleport?” Erica asked aloud. “The universe folding to let you skip over the impossible distance? That's what it felt like just now. I always thought it would be like traveling down a black tunnel really fast or something. Not staying still and twisting dimensions around.

Val didn't answer, only nestled down harder into Erica's cupped hand, looking slightly glassy eyed.

For some reason Erica had now experienced two points in the cosmos touch. Was that because something worse than Eric’s death had followed in the same room of the Emporium? And now she was... oh yes, in her brother's apartment, lying on his bed.

It took her a moment to recognize it, but she had been her twice before. He must have just left two days ago? That the time so brief? Also, the ringing that had first centered her on reality was still constant and urgent. It was a land line phone. Erica felt across the dark room to answer it, if only to make the noise stop. The shades were drawn very tightly to keep anyone from noticing that there had been three magical creatures in the apartment with her brother. Finally she found the phone and lifted it to her ear, all the while wondering why her brother still had a land line.

"Alex? This is Sarah Johnson. Why haven't you answered my calls? Do you know how serious ignoring me? Things have escalated and you choose now to become unreachable! Alex? Are you there?" The woman on the line sounded fairly young and very English.

Erica didn't understand what she was hearing. What was escalating? And why was this random lady angry at her brother? Things had already escalated, and a good man, or gargoyle, was dead. Erica felt a tight wad of emotion rise in her throat.

"Don't say that about my brother." She stammered, her voice breaking even as she tried to keep it level, then without knowing why, she added. "He's dead," and slammed the phone down.

Why had she said that? It was a terrible thing to say, and an outright lie. The phone started ringing again. Erica thought about answering, but instead pulled the cord from the wall and used a word she'd never used before. What was wrong with her? Was she angry because Eric was dead? Maybe she was just enraged that she lived in a universe where a day could start out so perfect and turn into a nightmare. Eric was dead, and something else had happened they had barely escaped. An explosion? Was Abby still back there? Erica collapsed on her brother's bed with a sob, then it was followed by another, and another. It took a long time before Erica could get control of herself and stop crying.

She couldn't just lay here. What if something had happened to Alex too? Abby might be fine after all. Well, as fine as you can be when your husband has died. "Come on Val, let's go." Val had crawled off onto the corner of the bed and wasn't moving. Erica reached out and was reminded sharply that her shoulder had been clawed. She winced and ran a finger down her friend's spine. The little dragon shuttered and curled into a tighter ball. "You're really sick, aren't you? All right. We'll spend the night."

Sitting up in bed, Erica thought about getting something to eat, but she just sat there, feeling the minutes slip away, until she finally gave up and crawled under the blankets to a night filled with dreams of shattered statues and fire.

*********

Alex wasn't even up on his knees before someone strong and heavy landed on top of him, pushing him back into the ground. Alex yelled in surprise and tried to twist free when he felt a knife against his throat. It was surprisingly cold and terribly unexpected. Deciding very quickly that he didn't want to die, Alex stopped thrashing and let the larger man pull him up.

"Don't try anything heroic Phoenix Archer, or I'll slit his throat open. I'm sure we'll get a good idea of how much blood can come out of someone before you have time to take revenge. OH, or should I call you Ryana now since you're being perfectly transparent?"

Ryana, or whatever she went by, didn't exactly look like someone Alex would want to tick off, crouching with two daggers in her hands and two more coming from her eyes. Not that her imposing figure meant good things for him. If she attacked, he was done for. "Please don't do anything stupid," he gasped, wondering why he was so afraid to die when his little sister was probably gone... It made him feel like a coward.

"Right, listened to the boy. He’s a sharp one. Say, while I have a hostage, why don't you give me a little information in exchange for his life. No, not your origin or where your three little companions went. We aren't interested in trivia. But we both know you have another secret you've been keeping from this town. Or do I need to be more specific?"