Sparks Fly

By Kadian Thomas

Calina Cabhair, a sixteen-year-old high school junior is trying to figure out what to do with the rest of her life. For her, deciding a path is no simple task. All that is pushed aside, however, when Calina accidentally falls through a portal that transports her to a land called Kollosnia. Calina is amazed by the new world, but she has little time to savor it, as she finds out she’s just landed in the middle of a brewing war, with the monstrous Dark King ruling the land. Calina has no intentions of staying in this dangerous and unpredictable place, and she strikes an unbelievable deal with a warrior named Aiden in the hopes of going home.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sea Dragon Press
• Release date: Jun 21, 2017
• ISBN: 9780998370323

Kadian Thomas

Kadian Thomas is the author of the, Light in the Dark Young Adult trilogy series. Her debut novel Sparks Fly is set to be released in 2017, (June 21st), Lightning and Fire (DATE TBA), and A Flash of Darkness (DATE TBA). Kadian has been living in Mount Vernon, New York for the past five years, but grew up in Jamaica.Growing up in an inner-city community in Kingston, Jamaica, Kadian lived a sheltered life. She turned to books for entertainment and became an avid reader at an early age, reading all genres of books including romance and fantasy. Kadian started creating stories at a very young age even before she wrote them down on paper; sharing them with her younger sister; Dashana. Growing up it has always been her dream to write and publish a book, though she thought it would have been done through her career.Kadian graduated from the University of the West Indies in Jamaica, with a Bachelors of Science in Environmental Biology, intent on getting into the field of scientific research. Kadian, however, fell into a different career path in retail where she fulfills her need to help others and learn about new and exciting technology. Kadian now writes on her days off and every spare time she gets. When she's not writing, Kadian can be found reading a book or binge-watching TV shows on Netflix and Hulu, also bowling with friends.Kadian also blogs under the pen name Annabelle Helen Jones, where she provides writing tips for aspiring authors, passing on useful information that she's learned so far. Also, find Kadian on Twitter and Instagram @authorkadian, be sure to say hi when you stop by

Book preview

Part One

CHAPTER ONE

Calina

Iam concealed in the pitch-black darkness of the street. There are no street lights. No houses with people getting ready for bed. There is only me and the sky above illuminated with stars. They seem so close, and there are so many that it’s unsettling. My science teacher, Mrs. Greyson, once said that the exact size of the universe is unknown. Unimaginable.

The world grows around me, making me feel small and alone. Thinking about the universe freaks me out every time. I’m not sure when it all started or why. The anxiety I get.

I think back to when it affected me the most; when my neighbor died, Ms. Jen. I was ten. I wasn’t close to her, didn’t care for her in any particular way. But one minute she was there, and then she wasn’t.

I’ve known people that died before, I just never thought about it. When I did, I imagined all the people I loved leaving me one day. Me leaving them, everyone forgetting me. Then I saw how small I was and how big everything else was, compared to me.

I was never the same after that. Maybe Ms. Jen was more important to me than I thought. I couldn’t eat, had trouble sleeping. I don’t know why, but I think the death of Ms. Jen broke me.

My mother said I was grieving and that one day I would get over it. I never really got over it. But I coped, I pretended I was fine. I try not to think too much about things. Anything that reminds me of nothingness; the dark, the stars, the universe.

I listen to the soft slap of my flats against the tarred street. Crickets croon, then fall silent.

I had a test earlier today; it’s supposed to give me guidance on what I should do with the rest of my life. The results said I could become a doctor or a teacher maybe, but I’m not sure what I want to be. Some kids my age already have their entire lives figured out. Not me. Nothing feels right yet.

I overthink things too much, and I try not to, but I can’t help it sometimes.

I clutch my bag to my side, a messenger bag my sister, Ric, gave me for Christmas. My fingers stroke against the soft material and I block thoughts of the universe or how small and alone I am right now from my mind.

I’ve walked here once or twice before, when I’d stay back at school too late and I’d miss the last bus. Today I was at the library nearby my school. This road leads from the town where everything is; schools, stores, parks, to where I live. Along the way, there is nothing.

A waft of wind blows, sending a thrilling chill up my spine, making me aware of the sharp nip in the air. Before I see or hear it, I know it; sense it.

I’m not alone.

The soft hum of a car’s engine. I see no light, but I can hear it as it draws closer and closer. Then, akin to a spark being thrown on running oil, heat covers me.

My shadow appears, growing long and loopy. The lights of the car glare. I turn to look as it comes around the bend. Without stopping I close my eyes so my vision can adjust to the sudden brightness.

Ca-a-l-i-i-na! voices shout behind me.

I don’t look. I don’t respond. I know they are no friends of mine. The car passes me, then stops ahead.

They laugh and jeer.

I don’t know how many there are. Maybe four or five. Their voices, jumbled together, sound like a mob of people.

Come, Callie, Callie, Callie, they say in unison, as if calling a cat or dog. More laughter.

I’m not too far from home now, but I’m not close enough. I shouldn’t have missed the last bus, shouldn’t have gone to the library to study.

My mother’s words sound in my head. This isn’t a good night for a stroll. The last time I came home this way, she made a big fuss. She didn’t want me to walk here on my own, but then she didn’t want me to do a lot of things. Somehow, just having control over something makes me feel free. Strong.

And I’m never strong.

I prepare to pass the car. I can’t see inside it, so I try not to look. Instead, I look at the dense forest on both sides of me, then ahead. The road is empty except for the car. The trees tower high, and they grow in dense clusters only a mere five feet from the edge of the street where I walk.

Beyond the trees, into the woods, it’s extremely dark. I look for a trail; I’ve seen one here before. Though I’m not sure if I’ve already passed it. I gulp, swallowing hard against the lump that is forming in my throat.

It takes forty-five minutes to walk from the library to my home. I estimate I have another thirty minutes to go.

A loud voice cackles above the rest. A deep belly full of laughter echoes. I recognize the laugh and the voice of one of them, profound and raspy. I’ve heard him before, the one that sounds older than he is. The one who must get everything he wants and now he has his sights set on me. Andreas, the captain of the charity club. He’s a junior like me. And I think he lives to make my life miserable. No doubt he is with his usual clique, the popular kids. I’m not one of them.

I pass the car and I focus on my breathing and not on the pain in my chest. My eyes begin to water.

Maybe I’m overthinking things again but my mind runs with all the possible scenarios in my head, and comes out with the worst ones.

As they slowly cruise along behind me, I know they are up to no good. What do they want this time? To push me around? Grab at me when it’s not welcome? Banter with each other about how weird I am, or how I look?

The car pulls up next to me. Don’t look. I look over. Five of them.

Do you want a ride home, Callie? asks Andreas.

I ignore them, walking as fast as I can. My breath quickens with each step, as I fight against the urge to make eye contact. I’m afraid that if I do, they will pounce on me like a pack of wild animals. With my head down, I hurry on.

This isn’t school. I am not surrounded by scores of onlookers. My surroundings become very clear; my senses heightened. I’m aware of the vast expanse of foliage before me; the lack of houses, the lack of people, the lack of life altogether. No one to help.

Suddenly, I’m aware of everything, and I’m mindful of what the car’s inhabitants’ true intentions might be. They don’t care to drive me home; there’s certainly no room left in the vehicle with five of them. Tonight is different; they seem more riled up than usual. What is it? Drugs? Maybe alcohol?

I should have called my mother. She is still up, even now. I know she is waiting for me. She won’t sleep until I get home, but she won’t call me. Not since we had that argument about her checking up on me too often.

Then, I check my pockets for my phone. My excitement is short-lived, as there’s nothing in either pocket. Opening the flap on my bag, I push my hand through the opening and realize with dismay that my mother can’t call even if she wants to: I forgot my phone. I quickly move the bag’s strap from my shoulders to over my neck, crossing my upper body and giving me a better grip.

My heart is hammering in my chest now. I’m trying my best not to curl up in a ball and cry. My eyes look for a hiding place, my mind searches for a way to make them leave me alone. I have none.

The car stops next to me and Andreas comes out and jogs to my side. I don’t stop walking. He grabs my arm.

Hey, princess…

My body reels back from him and I pull my hand away from his grasps. He comes closer, and I push him away, a weak shove, my hands shaking. The red shirt he wears clings to his chest, the smell of beer and cigarettes lingers on his breath. He laughs.

I want to talk, he says, pacing next me.

I don’t answer.

I like your hair. It’s so… thick and curly. You know, you could be my caramel princess. Andreas laughs again, mirth and mischief in every chuckle. He glances behind him. The car pulls up next to us again and matches our speed.

We want to play, Callie. Don’t you want to play, Callie? another guy calls out in a creepy, sinister voice from inside the car. They all laugh again.

No, leave me alone, I say between gritted teeth and instantly regretted it.

What have I done?

To them, defiance is an invitation. It’s a welcome to do more, to push harder. I might as well have surrendered.

Holding my breath, my body feels numb as I walk. My steps turn into a trot, anything that will propel me faster, get me further from this place.

Andreas walks over to the car and whispers something then he’s back at my side again. He says nothing to me, just grins and trots next to me.

The car stops and more of them slither out the passenger doors.

My heart pounds and my hands shake, sending tremors up my shoulders and down my sides. My body burns from the speed-walking, especially my hands and legs; although I can feel it everywhere, the growing tiredness, the sharp pinch of lactic acid curdling in my calves.

Footsteps echo behind me, sounding like stones being thrown against a zinc fence. Loud and frightening.

Get her, one voice says.

Hands suddenly grab at my wrist, then my waist. I don’t think. I pull myself out of their grasp and scamper away, running as fast as I can. They chase after me. I race towards the forest and dash into it, to lose them.

My head is light enough, it might float away. Sweat runs down my face and neck, I can feel it trickle down my scalp, but I feel cold.

It takes a second before I realize it might not have been the best idea running into the forest at night, alone, with a pack of five boys chasing me. This will not end well. I don’t have time to think though and no other choice. Besides, I can’t outrun them on foot, not when they have their car. They will overpower me and throw me inside.

I crash past low branches.

No, this is right. This is my best option. The forest I might navigate; I can lose them.

Help! I scream. Somebody, please help me!

No, I shouldn’t scream. The thought comes a second after my mouth opens. I know there will be no one around here, not for miles. Screaming will just give away my position. I sprint off, running frantically. Footsteps hammer behind me. I do not let up.

I’m pushed hard against the side of a tree. Andreas takes me by surprise. I scream.

Guys, I’ve got her, he shouts.

I struggle with him, my heart pounding. His left hand presses against my chest. Fingers grope my thighs. I slap them away. I kick him in the groin, and he staggers back.

Backing away, as I turn to run I whimper. Leave me alone.

He doesn’t. Andreas catches me before I’m a foot away and holds me from the back, around my sides. I twist erratically and we fall. His grip loosens from the shock of the fall. I push myself up and run again.

I’m getting away.

The wind whips my hair back. My eyes strain, but all I see is a blur of blackness. I force them to focus, to see through the tears, through the darkness.

My bag is hard to manage. My dress clings to my body and the hem wraps around my ankles, but I do not let it hinder me. I leap over roots that come from nowhere. Branches spring out almost magically, missing my head with inches to spare. I run, moving into the forest grove, trying to find the best path, one that will not slow me down. Weaving between trees, I gaze over my shoulder. Shadows rise around me: long, loopy and menacing.

The boys are still coming.

My bag weighs heavy on my side and hits against me. I think of leaving it behind, but I need it. So I drag it along with my collapsing body.

My breath comes faster and shorter. Trees grab at me, their branches like fingers, gripping, tugging at my dress that hangs around my ankles, catching and ripping it. I do not stop. I can still hear the boys coming for me.

Like magic, I see a bright blue light ahead of me in a clearing. I can see that the earth appears scorched where grass and flowers should be.

A light suddenly shoots up from the ground like lightning, and then disappears. I look to the sky, still running towards the spot.

I feel my skin, wet with sweat. It’s not raining. It isn’t impossible for lightning to strike here without rain.

Slowly slightly, I realize I’ve heard talk about this place. Many stories of lightning striking for no reason. Not recently, but many years ago, people reported seeing lightning strikes on perfectly normal days. The woods of the Marron Bells. Perhaps that’s why my mother doesn’t want me walking around here. Well, that and the fact that someone could kidnap me.

I glance behind to see if the boys are still there. I must have lost them, because they are nowhere in sight.

My throat burns with a fire that runs deep within my chest. I stop to catch my breath now that my pursuers are not close enough to catch me. I am not sure if I should turn back. Is it safe?

Afraid that I might run into them again, I sit at the base of a tree, panting. My hands are shaking, my legs trembling; all of my body quakes.

There’s a sound—snap—and I cling to the base of the tree. My fingers dig into it, hoping that the night will conceal me. I close my eyes and wait. I listen for the footsteps; waiting for the moment when my location will be exposed.

Nothing. No one comes. I breathe a wary sigh of relief, still shaking.

A squirrel runs from its hiding place in the trees and I flinch.

I know I should continue, just to be on the safe side; it’s not good to sit and wait. I rub my hand into the soft dirt and let it gather between the tips of my fingers.

Another deep breath. I’m not afraid, I tell myself. I’m not scared. People say, you should tell yourself what you want to believe and you will believe it. But that doesn’t work because I’m scared out of my mind. The more I tell myself I’m not afraid, the more aware I am of how scared I am.

As I begin to walk again, there are oohs and aahs; something is calling me to it. A gust of wind surrounds me, pushing me forward even when I feel I can’t go a step further. Birds chirp and flap away as I pass. Woodpeckers pick at tree trunks like drummers; owls hoot across the way like they are playing trumpets. The forest turns eerie, and now I know I should be scared.

Except now I’m not. A strange sense of calm comes over me. The sounds make me feel safe; like I’m not alone, like I’m with a group of friends. Unlike the distant quietness of the stars, the animals are tangible, as though they know I’m here and they are talking to me. Singing. It is as though I am in a concert and I’m witnessing a tantalizing choir featuring all of nature. I have never seen the forest come alive like this at night.

The trees sway in the wind, dancing to the music. Flowers move like ballerinas, and I move with them, as light as air. The forest seems to glow with purple, blue, and white light. I look up and feel like I’m surrounded by angels. Moonlight sparkles like fireflies around me.

A pause—the birds grow still, the music stops, the trees don’t move. Everything quiets once more. I’m conscious again that I’m alone. The forest becomes dark. I’m lost. Lost in the middle of the woods, with no idea of where I am going.

I should turn back and retrace my steps. I hope that, by now, the boys have given up and have gone home. Turning, my eyes scan the ground for my original path, the tracks my feet may have created, of broken branches and trampled weeds. I look, but I don’t see it. Turning around is simple. Should be simple. Even if I can’t see the path, just by going in the opposite direction, I should find where I came from.

I move. No.

I try to run, but I can’t. My feet are stuck. No, not stuck. They are being held, something—someone—is holding me back. My mind goes wild again, trying to make sense of what is happening. I scream and wail, but it’s no use. They’ve caught me.

I’m trapped.

CHAPTER TWO

Anorvia

I’ve been training for this moment all my life. Practicing, studying, getting sharp and strong and now it’s only a few hours away. Though I always knew it was coming, as the time draws close, my heart thumps and my hands shake with nervous excitement.

I have everything I will need for war; my trip will be no vacation.

Silver metal glistens in the right corner of my room, coming from my computer desk next to the window. My mother must have polished it for me, the sword my father gave me. The sword he got from his father, who got it from his father too, passed down from each generation to the next, to be used when the right time arrived.

Anorvia, my mother calls from downstairs. Her voice sounds anxious, and it makes me even more nervous.

I know she wants me to eat before I leave, but I can’t eat again. The stew I ate four hours ago still threatens to come up.

I finish packing, and find my backpack is a lot heavier than I wanted. Filled with clothes, shoes, knives, arrows and spear. I consider taking something out, but I need it all. I push my sword into the middle of it all. It fits perfectly in the small space that remains.

I check the watch I’m wearing; it’s eleven pm. I turn to walk out, but then stop for a moment to look at my room for one last time. Usually, I’m not sentimental; I was taught not to hold material things too close. After all, such things, the things of this world, will vanish. I don’t know exactly what that means, but I picture things going up in flames.

I can’t help thinking I may never see this room again. My bed taking up half of the space, a computer desk at the window, and a dresser against the deep orange wall on the left. My mother had decided that a dark color would show fewer of the dents and stabs I have inflicted in the walls over the years. It doesn’t. The orange was my idea, I liked how it looked.

I scan the room, taking in the dartboard on the back of the door, my martial arts and karate uniforms hanging from pegs, and the many trophies I’ve won for my fighting techniques, displayed on shelves.

I am ready for this. Ready for this next journey I must take, and prepared to put my training to good use.

I step on something and I look to see what it is: a throwing knife. I suddenly realize how messy my room is. A mixture of clothes and weapons on the wooden floor. An axe on one side, a sickle on the other. Dresses hanging out of my dresser drawer, and a few shirts and jeans left on the floor. I should’ve cleaned my room. I guess mom will have to do it now.

I run down the stairs, dragging my backpack behind me, where my mother and father greet me. They each give me a hug. My dad’s face is heavy with worry, even though he strains to smile.

I’m so proud of you, he says, with his hands stuffed in his pocket.

He’s hiding his hands and I immediately know why; I do it too. He’s nervous and he doesn’t want me to see him fidget.

You look beautiful, sweetie, says my mother. I’m so glad you chose the white leather suit; it shows off your curves. She breaks the awkward silence, pulls the zipper on my jacket all the way to my neck, and brushes my hair back. I feel like a child getting ready for my first day of school.

I raise an eyebrow at her. Thanks, Mom, because that’s what I will be thinking about.

Sorry, I mean… Her eyes grow watery, as her words catch in her throat.

It’s okay, Mom, I know you will miss me. I will miss you, too, I say matter-of-factly.

I know you have to do this, but just promise me… if there’s any way for you to come back after this is all done, please, can you come back?

That’s a promise I can’t make, even though she wishes I could. I will probably never be back.

Maybe… I say, trying to console her.

My hands flail at my side, instinctively searching for my pockets, but I don’t have any. Not on this all-in-one leather suit. I quickly put my hands behind my back, where they cannot be seen, and intertwine my fingers, squeezing them hard and hoping, praying my parents don’t see the signs of me lying and doubting myself.

You will do great, sweetheart, you have all the training, my father says, pulling his hands from his pockets to rest them heavily on my shoulders.

They sound like they are sending me off to an examination or coronation—You’ll do good, sweetie… you look lovely, darling—not to war, as though I’m not prepared to shoot someone or break a man’s neck, if I must.

My father clears his throat, but I know there’s nothing wrong with it. He is trying to be strong for me. He doesn’t like to show his emotions whether good or bad. My father told me a lot about this war, but there is more I know he never said. Things I know keep him up at nights and haunt his days.

I wonder what he’s afraid of. Does he think I can do this? There’s something he isn’t telling me. He never told me how he got out of Kollosnia in the first place, never said what would happen if I failed, but I try not to pry. I know his pain will always be greater than mine. I only prepare for the worst.

You better get going, I don’t want you to be late, my father says.

Him rushing me makes me more anxious than I was before. Like he is trying to get rid of me, or that he doesn’t want to savor every moment we have left.

I can’t be late for my destiny, I say in jest, brushing off my anxious, boxed-up emotions.

But still, there’s a whole world waiting for you, you shouldn’t be late, my father says, placing his thumb on my forehead and brushing aside my hair.

He is right, I have had to wait sixteen years for this moment. It was a long time for me, and for them, it might have seemed even longer. They have waited long enough.

I put the bag on my back and tighten the straps. I don’t know how to say goodbye to them. Do I say it as if I will see them again in a few days, or act like I will never see them again? I choose the latter. Just this once. That is what the facts are.

I stare at my parents. I don’t want to forget them. I know it’s not possible, because I look so much like them. My mother has deep black hair and dark brown eyes, which stand out on her ashen skin. Her lips are thin and naturally red. My father has a more olive skin. His eyes are a pale orange, almost like yellow, and his hair fiery red. His lips are fuller, a soft brown. I got his lips; other than that I am more like a mixture of the two of them. My hair is dark brown that shimmers with a hint of red in certain lighting. My eyes are a light yellow, like a tiger’s eye. I can see both of them in myself. I don’t know if that will make me miss them more.

Can’t you guys just come with me? I ask softly.

I’m not clingy, but I want to be, just this once. I know my parents can’t come. This is a journey I will have to start on my own. The path to meet my destiny, and no one can follow me there.

No, sweetheart, says my mother, sitting at the kitchen table now, swinging her legs and tapping the counter, not sure what to do with herself.

I mean, can’t you watch me go, can’t you be there with me? I sound like a child crying for her parents, begging for someone to comfort her, but I don’t care.

It’s best if you go alone. My father cups my head in his hands and kisses me on my forehead. It will make it easier for you to go in.

I promised myself I wouldn’t cry. This is the most affection I’ve seen my father show in all my life. I know he loves me, but he finds it hard. Crying isn’t an option, but I can feel his fingertips tremble. I can feel how cold his hands and lips are when he kisses me, and I know he’s scared. I become afraid because he is. Afraid that I don’t know what he fears, but I know I’m at the center of it.

The tears well up in my eyes and threaten to come out. I force my eyes shut and I can feel them burning. I press my lips together and a knot forms in my throat. It would be unfair, selfish even, to say I don’t want to go, but at this moment, I don’t. I push the tears back, swallow the knot in my throat and straighten my shoulders.

It’s time for me to go…

I give my mother and father another hug; then leave my white-picket-fenced house. All the trophies I’d gathered over the years, all the things I hold close and dear. Everything.

For a moment, I reconsider leaving the life and comfort I have here. Then I think of Kollosnia and the palace that will be mine after I kill the Dark King. I can make Kollosnia a better place.

I turn to look across the street that separates me and the woods. Somewhere in the center of it, my portal awaits. The woods are huge and span for miles. From my house it will take about twenty minutes to get to the portal.

I watch as the brown and yellow and red leaves fall from the Maple and Aspen trees, lit by the street lights as the night sky blankets the Marron Bells that stretch out before me. I never understood why we had to live all the way out here, isolated from the world, in the mountains, but I get it now. I needed to be away from everyone. Besides, this is where the portal will open. I cross the street over into the woods, and I head north.

There are a few houses here, but not many. I’ve heard that only a few short years before my father arrived here, people had started living in the area. That was lucky for me. Otherwise, it would be kind of weird. Us living in total isolation, just waiting.

I pull out my map and compass that will lead me to the portal. I have been there many times before, checking to see if it is there. It never is. Still, I want to be sure. I can’t make a mistake. The portal becomes active when I’m sixteen, but only appears when I’m close by.

I go deeper and deeper into the forest of the Marron Bells, and based on the map I know I’m almost there. I check my watch, I’ve been walking for fifteen minutes. I hold the map to my face, trying to figure out if I am going to the right place. I didn’t bring a flashlight. Sometimes it feels like no matter how prepared I think I am, there’s always something that’s not accounted for.

The moonlight brightens the forest, but even with the scattered light, it is difficult to see.

Just as I think this, I stumble on a twig and roll over the side of a hill, losing my map and compass in the fall. Leaping to my feet, I brush twigs and leaves from my hair and dirt from my face. I look around for the map and compass and see them still at the top of the hill. Checking my watch, I realize I’m cutting it close to the time I want to arrive at the portal. I decide to leave them, since it’s too dark to use them and they won’t be of use where I’m going.

The alarm I had set on my watch rings; it’s twelve o’clock. I’m now sixteen. There will be no birthday celebrations, no parties, but I’ve had plenty of those before.

A blue light blazes ahead of me, marking the spot where the portal has opened, and will then disappear. I walk toward it, manic excitement filling me. In a matter of seconds, I will be in another world. I wonder what I will see, once I’m in Kollosnia. I wonder what it will feel like to be a true Kollosnian after all these years of imagining it.

I’m a few yards away now. Will someone welcome me, wish me luck on my quest? Someone who will stand by me through this fight?

I see a flock of birds fluttering away from their homes in the trees. I watch them as they pass, wings flapping wildly. It doesn’t seem natural, not for this time of night. Most birds don’t fly at night; they stay in the trees until morning. Shivers crawl up my spine. I know something must be wrong. I know it. I walk faster towards the open portal.

The portal that will lead me to the place my father escaped from, following an attempt on his life when he was sixteen. I am going back to get redemption for him, and for his people.

My father is from Kollosnia, a magical, supernatural place in another dimension not available to anyone in this world. Anyone except me.

My parents have told me about the war that broke out years before my father’s birth, between the good guys and the bad guys of Kollosnia. Between light and dark, and darkness won.