Regnum Terra

By Ellie Penner

Hazel Alina Galbraith is a 17-year-old spy from an alternate reality with a secret that might save the universe. Or destroy it.

The only problem is, she doesn’t remember any of that.

What Hazel does remember is her life on earth: her recent breakup with her boyfriend; the bully who spreads rumors about her; that huge English project coming up. And Alek, an unfairly attractive foreign-exchange student with piercing eyes that haunt Hazel’s dreams.

Hazel can't seem to stay away from Alek.... but she can't seem to trust him, either. Caught between fear and desire, Hazel must choose between the past she's left behind and the future she's always wanted. With the fate of the universe on the line, is it too much to hope for a happily ever after?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ellie Penner
• Release date: Dec 2, 2019
• ISBN: 9781733405003

Ellie Penner

Ellie Penner attended the University of Utah, graduating with honors with a degree in English and a minor in Physics. She currently works as a high school teacher, where she tries to convince her students that science and the humanities aren’t mutually exclusive and that magic is real. She lives in Layton, Utah, with her husband, their two-year-old, a rabbit, and an army of plants.

Book preview

Prologue

"What’s past…"

-William Shakespeare, The Tempest

The first thing he noticed was the cold. His skin burned with it; ached and writhed like a dying thing.

He stood in the dark, his eyes closed to shut out the crushing emptiness that surrounded him. He thought he heard faint notes sound out of the darkness, swelling to create thought and time. He drew in a shuddering breath, remembering the orders.

His mind focused on his mission: hunt, find, return.

Destroy.

The music changed in response to his thoughts, minor chords and dissonance ringing through the empty void. The darkness closed in, forming shapes, the creation of the wishes in his mind. He felt more than saw a tunnel forming in the blackness, a path that would lead him to his prey.

His eyes flashed open, an unearthly green fire burning in their depths. His gaze illuminated the darkness, casting nonexistent shadows against the walls of ebony surrounding him. His teeth gleamed in a feral smile as he stalked forward to welcome the shadow with open arms.

Timidly, desperately, his heart released a silent wish into the night.

Instantly a thin point of light appeared at the end of the tunnel, engulfing him in a spotlight that burned away the cold encasing his skin. The music around him became unbearably sweet, and he covered his ears trying to escape. Tears began to course down his cheeks, extinguishing the mad fire burning in his eyes. He stood transfixed as the light moved towards him, growing brighter and brighter.

Squinting his eyes against the glare, he saw a radiant figure standing before him. She smiled, and his heart skipped a beat.

The music stopped.

Her smile grew and the song began again, soft and intimate. She stepped closer; so close that he could feel her warm breath on his face. Naturally, gracefully, their lips met.

Without thinking, his body responded, his lips molding to hers, his fingers twining through her long, chestnut hair. A fire exploded in his heart, the flames tracing paths of light through his veins. The music reached a pitch far too high to hear, although something in his soul remained enthralled by the soundless majesty. His eyes flew open and he was blinded by the light. Universes flew past him; space and time obsolete in the raging inferno.

He clutched the girl to his chest as the world flew to pieces in shards of flaming starlight. Screaming in agony as diamond-fire ripped through him, he surrendered his soul to the blaze born of darkness.

The last thing he saw were her bright blue eyes, open wide in fear.

Chapter 1

"Or, if there were a sympathy in choice

War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it,

Making it momentary as a sound,

Swift as a shadow, short as any dream"

-A Midsummer Night’s Dream

I lay in bed listening to the loud, insistent beeping of my alarm clock, screaming at me to get up and do something productive. The last few days had consisted of an intense struggle: my heart telling me to stay in bed and pine forever, my head telling me that if I let a broken relationship interfere with my schooling, I would regret it later.

My head, unfortunately, had the weight of the alarm clock on its side. Heaving a huge sigh, I rolled out of bed and slapped the top of my clock. The shrill beeping mercifully stopped, and, zombie-like, I stumbled down the hallway and into the bathroom.

I caught sight of myself in the mirror and grimaced. My hair was knotted into an accurate representation of a bird’s nest, and my blue eyes were swollen and red with crying.

I looked absolutely ridiculous.

How was it that in the movies, girls could face the end of the world without a strand of hair coming out of place?

One quick shower later left me looking slightly better, but feeling even worse. I stared morosely at my reflection for a few minutes before I caught sight of the time and sprinted up the stairs.

In a hurry, Hazel? My mom asked blearily, still in her pajamas and fumbling around in the fridge for the breakfast things.

Yep, I responded breathlessly, reaching around her to grab an attempt at breakfast and then running out the door.

After the initial adrenaline rush associated with racing into first period seconds before the bell rang, the morning passed in a dull blur of exhaustion and dread, the usual side-effects of a typical American high school.

As a rule, I didn’t talk to people much. It wasn’t as though I used the term anti-social to describe myself, but interpersonal contact usually ended poorly if I was in any way involved. I had tried talking to other people at one point, and had almost tricked myself into believing that the universe would allow me to have a normal relationship with another human being.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," ran incessantly through my mind as I shuffled through the crowded hallways, dodging backpacks and flailing limbs.

I walked into my English classroom quickly, head down, sure that no one would notice. Melting into the shadows was something of a specialty of mine, and I liked to think that it was a talent I had received to compensate in some way for my complete failure in everyday social interactions.

Taking an open seat in the back corner of the classroom, I watched as the other students trickled in. As the final seconds to the bell ticked by, every seat in the room filled with a chattering student. Every seat that is, except for the one next to me. I noted this fact with a masochistic sense of pleasure. Part of me embraced the pain that I was feeling with open arms, enjoying the fact that I seemed to be fated to suffer.

He was in this class, and the instant he entered the room I could have sworn the clock stopped counting out time. It was going to be a long hour and a half.

To be honest, everything involving him seemed a little bit like a dream. I hadn’t believed that he would be interested in someone like me, but then, I hadn’t believed that he would leave me either. Maybe that was another talent of mine: disbelief. Glancing across the crowded classroom, I saw him sitting in the opposite corner, completely at ease, chatting with his friends.

Josh.

He had a new girl sitting in the seat next to him, gazing rapturously at his golden curls as she leaned toward him like a sunflower turning toward the sun. His gray eyes met hers, and I saw her literally shiver with delight.

"What an idiot," I found myself thinking, but my thoughts smacked of hypocrisy. Only a few days ago I had been in the same position, swept up by his smooth words, his gentle caresses and promises whispered in my ear that spoke of passion and joy, always and forever.

Apparently, his idea of forever was much shorter than mine.

Too late I realized that I was staring. His stormy eyes flashed to mine for a brief second before looking away, disgust evident on his face.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

I put my head on the desk and prepared to sulk for the rest of the period, thinking that schools should allow class transfers after breakups. I was just about to consider starting a petition, when my English teacher, Mr. McKlellin, walked into the room.

He was nearly fifteen minutes late, but still he took his time as he organized the papers on his desk. Despite his many flaws, mainly his inability to arrive anywhere on time, Mr. McKlellin was my favorite teacher. His lectures on nuances and plot lines were simple, but expressed his deep understanding and love of his subject. His pale blue eyes lit up with an intense fire under his mop of white hair whenever he addressed the class, stripping years from his aged face. There was a sense of timelessness about him that was intriguing; it was almost as though he had lived through the stories he was teaching.

As he walked to the front of the room, he glanced at the group surrounding Josh.

Evidently, most of the class isn’t in the mood for discussing Shakespeare today… he began snidely. Given your disinterest, I don’t want to keep you. Those not sitting in a seat might as well spend the period in the hallway.

My classmates looked at one another in confusion, which quickly changed to consternation as Mr. McKlellin moved to the group standing around Josh and began herding them out into the hallway.

What about our books? one of Josh’s groupies asked timidly, her eyes wide. Oh, I can’t imagine you need schoolbooks if you’re just going to chat for the next hour, Mr. McKlellin replied with a condescending smile. Out you go now.

Turning back toward the class, Mr. McKlellin looked around the room once as though satisfied, locked the door behind him, and made his way to the front of the room to begin the lesson. As he wrote the title of the lecture on the board, I saw the faces of my classmates pressed against the small window in the door. I glanced back up at the board and copied down, The underlying metaphors in Macbeth as the heading in my notes.

There was a sudden, loud banging noise from the hallway, followed by a chorus of giggles. A hint of unease snuck into the back of my mind; what if Mr. McKlellin was fired? Yes, he was known to be eccentric, but he had never actually locked half a class outside of the room before.

Ahem, Mr. McKlellin coughed quietly, recapturing my attention. As we’ve mentioned in previous classes, he began, Shakespeare’s ‘Macbeth’ is full of complicated, interpersonal dynamics. Although it is true that ‘Macbeth’ was written hundreds of years ago, the relationships it presents and the situations the characters have to navigate can provide insight into personal issues that we face today.

Unfortunately, I never got to hear how Shakespeare would describe my recent breakup.

A sharp knock on the door made the entire class jump and effectively silenced Mr. McKlellin. His eyebrows raised ever so slightly as he shot an annoyed look at the door.

I pitied the individual on the other side of the door. Mr. McKlellin was one teacher you didn’t want to cross.

The remaining students in the classroom held their breath as Mr. McKlellin stalked toward the door and jerked it open.

I let out a relieved sigh when I saw that the person who walked in wasn’t part of the administration. He wasn’t even one of Josh’s groupies trying to get back into the classroom.

He was incredible.

The young man who stood in the doorway had shaggy hair that reminded me of dark chocolate, so dark it was almost black. When the light caught the ebony strands, streaks of amber and hints of gold danced their way out of the darkness.

He was wearing a loose sweatshirt, compliments of the freezing temperatures outside. It hung well on his frame, the black color accentuating his tan skin nearly as well as the cut of the cloth highlighted his lean muscles.

It was his eyes that truly caught my notice, though: dark lashes framing deep green depths; pools of liquid jade that were visible even from my position at the back of the room.

His hands clenched into fists as the stares of the room washed over him. For some reason I was drawn to those hands. I felt intuitively that they were more powerful than they appeared, or maybe I was just hoping that in this case the universe wouldn’t be so predictably disappointing.

Mr. McKlellin quietly drew the young man aside, his stern gaze softening as they talked. I could hear brief snatches of conversation; loose words, free-floating their way to my eager ears: foreign exchange, transfer, English, recommendation.

My interest in the conversation quickly shifted toward a feeling more akin to terror as the young man started walking in my direction. Meeting new people had never been a talent of mine, and even the thought of talking to an unknown boy was beyond laughable. I wanted to disappear into my seat; continue to play the part of an observer rather than an actor. Just as I began to worry I might hyperventilate, the boy caught my eye.

Our gazes locked and I nearly stopped breathing. My vision grew hazy; the classroom around me blurring and tilting around the edges. I was overwhelmed by a sudden sense of familiarity, the hairs on the back of my neck tingling as half-formed memories of danger crept unbidden into my mind. It made no sense, had no logical explanation, but I somehow knew him.

He blinked, and I was released. I sucked in a huge breath of air as a small, endearing smile lifted the corners of his mouth. Incredulous, my mind replayed a single fact. He had seen me. Only one other person in my life had really seen me before.

As memories of my ex-boyfriend flooded my mind, I turned almost automatically in Josh’s direction to find him glaring at the stranger. A look of burning hatred played across his face, transforming the angelic features into something sinister and deadly. I looked away uncomfortably, surprised by the malice in Josh’s stare. Dislike was one thing, but Josh looked ready to murder the boy sitting down next to me.

Sitting down next to me.

Oh no.

Heart pounding, I chanced a glance toward the stranger, hoping beyond hope that my powers of invisibility wouldn’t fail me a second time.

I was in luck.

His back was towards me, very clearly, if not intentionally, shutting me out. Straining to see around him, I discovered that he was already deep in conversation.

With Brittney Alder.

The fiend in human form who had personally made my first few years in High School hell.

Everyone knew that Brittney was the queen of the school; the rumors she spread were meticulously crafted edicts intent on maintaining her perfect little kingdom. She was the quintessential ‘mean-girl,’ as in, ‘slam-your-hand-into-a-locker-for-looking-at-her-new-purse-wrong’ mean. I had taken one look at her carefully chosen group of courtiers and realized that I would much rather be a social exile than the equivalent of a social peasant.

Although I held the ultimate disdain for Brittney and her adoring flock of brain-washed peacocks, their stupidity had allowed me to recognize my gift from the universe. I could simply fade into the background, away from the drama and lies and stress that was high school.

I didn’t mind my life in the shadows. But seeing Brittney talking so easily with this perfect young man reminded me of the one actual fact that I had stumbled upon in life: the universe, just like all its inhabitants, picks favorites. And I wasn’t one of them.

Chapter 2

"Done to death by slanderous tongue

Was the Hero that here lies"

-Much Ado About Nothing

The next few days passed in a slow blur of boredom and emotional exhaustion. I had expected Josh to give me the cold shoulder, but it seemed as though everyone else was following his lead as well. I should have been used to it; after all I had been the invisible girl for three years.

The summer before my senior year began, I had given up. I was tired of being passed by, ignored by those who seemed to have complete control over their life.

Stepping out of the shadows, I joined the school’s drama club. It was easy to act like someone else there, someone that was popular and confidant. I was welcomed in by the small group that was desperate to gain more members. They heaped praise, deserved or not, on my acting ability, boosting my confidence even more.

When school started, I went to my first football game, surrounded by my own group for once. It was there that I had met him.

Josh Wrede, recent transfer student from Europe, had been attending his first football game too. It had been a completely novel experience to watch his eyes skim the crowd and fix on me. Even in my new role as a participating member of society, no one had looked at me with such attention and interest before.

Looking back on it, I still felt as though he did care about me at some point. Given my complete ignorance of the world of dating, however, I honestly had no idea if that belief was in any way accurate. I did know that the few weeks I enjoyed as his girlfriend were easily the best that I had ever experienced.

Josh became very popular, due in large part to his status as one of the best track and field athletes that our school had ever seen. He easily shattered first our school records, and then region and state records as well. His two-mile time was incredible, but what he really loved was the javelin and discus.

I don’t know much about relationships, although ours seemed pretty much textbook. His popularity rubbed off on me to some extent, we were happy, and then suddenly he decided that things should be over.

I was never told how I had fallen from grace, but I suspected that Brittney hadn’t enjoyed my sudden rise in popularity.

Going back to the shadows was harder than I had expected. It was like smelling fresh-baked cookies, but never actually being allowed to eat them.

Theater became my one great refuge. The class allowed me to feel as though I was a part of something bigger than myself, something worth putting effort and conversation into. But even the draw of theater couldn’t quite erase the bright glow of Josh still burning painfully in the back of my mind.

I breathed a quiet sigh and regretfully returned to the present. It was so easy to lose myself in painful memories in my Spanish class. The teacher, Mr. Bingham, was prone to long-winded rants about the current ills of society, so even if I nodded off, I never missed much actual classwork. Shaking my head to clear away the last of the cobwebs, I found myself in the middle of his latest rant.

"There is a war in the Middle East! Mr. Bingham half-yelled, his eyes wide as his arms flailed wildly. I know that the media is trying to hide this fact from you, but I believe you should know the truth!"

I groaned inwardly. This was getting ridiculous. The least he could do was give his rants while speaking Spanish; at least then I might have the chance to actually learn something.

Sometimes I seriously wondered if Mr. Bingham was completely paranoid.

Letting my attention wander again, I scanned the classroom. If I had to listen to Mr. Bingham’s ramblings any longer, I wouldn’t have any functioning brain cells left. An amused smirk lifted the corners of my mouth as my eyes swiveled to the young man who had walked into my English class a couple of weeks ago.

He had transferred into most of my classes, which felt a bit like a double-edged sword. The observer in me was thrilled with the opportunity to watch him; the slight tension always present in his shoulders, the tendons in his hand as he wrote, the faintest curl visible in his shadowy hair. The pessimist in me, however, could only recognize his conversations with Brittney, and the fact that despite my first thoughts, he seemed to have no idea that I existed.

When I had faded into the background, I had lost most of my friends that had come along with Josh. The only real friend that I had left was Kenzie, but because she only had Productions with me and didn’t know most of my classmates, her knowledge was limited at best. I had tried asking her about the boy, but all she could tell me was that he was probably a foreign exchange student like Josh.

I leaned closer to the boy’s desk, wondering if I might be able to catch a glimpse of his name on his meticulous notes.

A sudden, sharp rap against the edge of my desk made me jump and nearly fall out of my chair. Mr. Bingham was standing over me, glaring down like I had just murdered his firstborn son. My cheeks reddened painfully as I straightened up.

Mr. Bingham pointed a bright purple, dry-erase marker at me accusingly and growled, Do you find the fate of our world uninteresting Hazel?! I gulped and shook my head.

Ummm, I’m sorry? I managed to stutter out, making it sound more like a question than the answer he had asked for. I thought he would start yelling, but Mr. Bingham just turned around and walked back up to the front of the room.

I let my hair fall over my face, hoping to hide it. My cheeks burned with shame and embarrassment, and tears threatened to spill over. Digging my fingers into the palm of my hand, I tried to gain control.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

The sound of the bell granted blissful relief. I stood and nearly ran out the door; as illogical as it seemed, I felt that if I could make it to English, things would be fine, or at least a little bit better.

Hazel! Someone called out.

Ignoring them I rushed on. I knew that it had to be another Hazel; no one in this school would be interested in talking to me. A firm hand grabbed my shoulder and spun me around.

I was suddenly face to face with the boy.

His green eyes were shining, and I quickly looked away.

Is Mr. Bingham always that insane? he asked unexpectedly. I can’t believe he freaked out at you like that. It’s not like anybody pays attention in that class anyway.