To Capture Saionna

By Halsey Grey

In 1847, Earth was forever changed when a new world suddenly and mysteriously introduced the magic kingdom of Everr, forever abolishing the veil between fantasy and reality.

 

Across Earth and in impossible places, wondrous doors of various shapes and sizes grew from the ground as simply as a plant--the entry to Everr if one of these treasures opens for you. Legends, dreams, and magnificent fairytales all exist if you stepped over the threshold and leave your world behind . . .

 

Even the nightmarish ones.

 

Aaron Burke of Earth can't stop, won't stop, thinking about that special woman in Everr, Saionna.

 

Aaron has nearly depleted his fortune to buy the magical seeds that will grow a door to Everr and open to his obsession. Once he crosses worlds, he finds Saionna, imprison her, and forces her to reveal how he can better eradicate her cursed-species. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Halsey Grey
• Release date: Sep 9, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393350408

Book preview

Chapter 1

FLOATING IN EVERR'S sky, four kingdoms ruled by arrogant and shallow monarchs. Beneath the seas, three castles preside, mysterious kingdoms choosing discretion, and on land, a solitary kingdom of man governs the rest. This is a tale of the latter, a unique experience among Glacier Castle's nation.

PRESENT-DAY EVERR, the 15th century.

In the cold north, two weeks from Glacier Castle, sit two villages in the land of never-ending trees. Upon the highest reach of the chilled purple peaks, a massive ledge cradles one modest village. A steep mountain wall hushed the cottages in a quintessential peace, and a sparse but lovely wood of slim birch and evergreens framed the ledge. The grass ceased to mature any larger, and thick-stemmed flowers dropped faded petals. Across this mountain community, homes are not grown like plants, as is the usual practice in Everr. Instead, small cottages were hand-built for endurance against the deep snow of high-altitude winters, giving the village its industrious name of Lumber. Today was cold, autumn's maturity well in play at this altitude. Thick clouds stained the sky gray, foretelling a coming snowfall and lofty piles of wood ready for the early winter warned by the friendly neighbor elves.

On this chilly day, a broke-down explorer had an experience to share, one the region has heard, savored, and questioned. At eighty-six years old, Mr. Oppelwall was alone in life because past explorations did not allow him time, or the desire, for a family. Even girlfriends of yesteryear didn't have the patience for his passion for exploring and documenting the world, so Lumber was the village he chose to live the rest of his lonely days. High enough from the valley to keep him from feeding his temptation to search for adventure. And with all the past broken bones, sprains, and bruises, a journey down would not guarantee a trip back to his humble home.

His skin was tough and worn and deep with wrinkles. White hair tinted with stains of yellow grew thick and trimmed by a knife. Deep lines in the corners of his mouth showed that smiles used to be a part of his life, and dry lips stated that he rarely did that anymore. Leathery cheeks sagged to meet a square chin. Bushy eyebrows were freshly combed, but divided by a smooth scar in the right brow, and a piercing green masked the sadness in his eyes. A bleached cloak and cracked boots emphasized that this is a land ruled by a lone castle called Glacier.

From a quaint tavern capped by a bulbous roof, he shuffles out to the crisp cold, leaving the warm table where all his meals are consumed, and conversations enjoyed, and to the village center. Ivory, iron, and stone benches made the square, but wood always warmed faster. His bones creaked louder than the decayed seat, and he set down his twisted cane and grasped shut his timeworn fur cloak. His unique visitor would soon be there. A special treat, a lady from Earth who wanted to hear him tell a story; he was excited for the first time in decades. An appointment he washed and cleaned for, his fingers raw from scrubbing his clothes. He plucked off the few knots in the discolored cloak, and he cleared his throat.

Two days prior, he was casually stalked and then approached by a merry Splithe fairy that batted her eyes and sweetly asked him to cite his famous story to a young woman from 21st-century Earth for her school studies. Although retired from telling his experiences, the experience of an Earthling was enough to remember it one more time. Besides, he missed the smile of a woman and the feeling of being useful to anyone other than the few green imps he fed sweets.

Throbbing joints massaged, he searched the three empty flagstone paths for the distinctive style of a young lady who roused his spirit. The moth-eaten scarf became a nuisance to the old scar embedded in his throat, irritating the tight wrinkled skin. Off it came and looped over the cane, and he traced the deep groove in his neck. No matter the number of times he touches it, he always recalled how lucky he was to receive a survivable injury compared to his dear departed horse. Bad luck on a quest to prove the legend of a secret emperor and empress that even the newly minted king and queen of Everr must obey. A conspiracy theory that grew in popularity but one he failed to prove.

Shades of wrinkles across his blue fleece suit coat stood out. The creases disappeared with vigorous wipes and tugs. She'll be here any minute, he murmured with worry in his appearance compared to that of a lady from Earth. How shall I begin my story? It's been so long since I've spoken it out loud.

An autumn land stretched below him, split by sole peaks and rippled by hills. Purple, gold, and fiery reds, he watched it to calm his nerves. His nose didn't work since his forties after receiving the fifteenth punch of his life. Jagged on the bridge, he did miss the supple autumn scents, but at least his eyes still worked, better even after they were stolen for three months in his fifties.

Some of the time, I miss that soft ground under my boots. But this hard ledge is a stern reminder to keep my promise. Eleven calls with death finally shook my brain to think straight. But that itch never died, the explorer-itch is in slumber waiting for another peek. These joints are aching to see action, maybe get my first name back from that witch. Ha! Ha! At least she forgot to take my second name, or I'd be known as that crazy old man in the mountain.

A plum bird perched on a thin branch overhanging the mountain-shelf and tweeted twice at Mr. Oppelwall, its tiny head a flash of turns.

This morning, I was excited about the adventure, a thrill not felt since the old days, and life breathed into my heart. Today will be one final adventure without breaking my promise, birdy.

GOOSEBUMPS, A FLOOD of happiness and absolute love, Kelley was here, actually walking on Everr soil. No concrete, asphalt, or the threat of the modern age. In an ancient forest, the trees are thick and tall and vivid in color despite the gray cold. Gorgeous leaves rained endlessly and breathed a rich aroma and threatened to hide the weaving road up to Lumber. The mesmerizing beauty fell in whispers around Kelley, who, a day ago, suffered a humid summer in a Rocky Mountain city. The stress of school, the weight of over-due bills, she found an immense escape on a magical world she thought luck would never gift her. Not to mention also being well-paid to do so.  

The scenery was too perfect to ignore for even a second. Nature swirled in grandeur and brought a real sense of freedom of spirit versus the law-of-the-land of home. The symphony of birds this high up waned, but the few beaks sang a beautiful song never heard on Earth. Kelley inhaled and captured the sweet air in her lungs. She touched the autumn sheen over the trunks and ferns, but her fingers came back dry. All was dreamlike and innocent; insomuch, the only offer for a ride up to Lumber was rejected. She worried about neglecting a patch of splendor and didn't fully trust Everr's medieval, yet charming, machinery of horse and wagon. For keepsakes, collection of leaves, sticks, and pebbles filled the pockets of her backpack. The memory on her digital camera—electronics her employer forbid from bringing—was over half full. She had yet to shoot any of the miracle-treasures Earth clamored to be a part of: elves, other fairies, dragons, knights, or any species unique to Everr.

A frozen northern gust blew down, splitting around the trees and sweeping crusty leaves against Kelley's ankles. A shiver forced a full zip of her black coat, hiding the new white sweater purchased for this world. A significant disappointment since her employer only allowed solid, dark colors to keep a low profile. Earthlings have been visiting Everr for over a hundred years. What made her visit extraordinary was her team's plan to trap a vampire, a potential crime. At least her sixty dollar haircut was safe from the weather and rules.

Dark brown hair shorter than a bob, Kelley kept her wavy bangs long and brushed over her left eye. When most people talked with their hands, Kelley's hazel green eyes darted and widened with passion. A narrow face and flawless olive skin, save for the freckles on her nose, faded in the mountain chill. To appear as plain as possible, makeup and lip gloss was also banned. Usually, the lip gloss would be a deal-breaker, but not today. This is Everr, a world the people on Earth have been known to pay millions for a single day's visit.

The hike took longer than anticipated, the morning almost spent. Worrisome because, as explained by the friendly fairy who arranged the interview, the old man's story was long, and the days are short. Hiking down a dark mountain in a world where man-eating dragons, wandering zombies, and witches exist, did not sit well with anyone from Everr, let alone from Earth. Besides, others in the town below were waiting for Kelley's return for their very secret jobs to begin.

All sound vanished, and pressure tightened in Kelley's ears. The stress took hold and kindly showed what filled the road ahead: a wall of thick fog, silent, confident, and waiting. Her sigh pushed swirls in the gray veil as she entered. The climb was steep, but time passed without incident, and the fog lost some of its intimidation, thinning to show more distant silhouettes. A few more pictures, but these could have been shot anywhere on Earth. Frustrated, she ached for the uniqueness of Everr. And before she could complain out loud, the fog blended in the overcast sky and introduced the timeless scene of Lumber.

Rouge fog-tentacles moved aimlessly across the quiet settlement, and humble cottages pushed against the flat mountain wall, adorned with tiny trees and winterized gardens of dark soil behind the little rock and wood fences. A wonderment to Kelley and her active camera. She fantasized that a miserable artist painted the homes onto the wall to stave off loneliness. Grimy benches off to the sides, adorned with withered flowers next to the legs, promised beauty in the spring.

Kelley came upon a carved-sign naming the village. Grass grew out the top and flower stem slouched and shivered, and delicate leaves wrapped them tight for warmth. Kelley rubbed the disbelief out of her eyes.

Yup flowers, we're all shivering up here. Don't snow, she murmured and peeked up. She blew gently on the flowers, and they shivered again, but this time, she caught it on video.

There was a comprehension for the seclusion strived for by Lumber citizens: not a resident seen and the shutters drawn for privacy in every lopsided and round window. But that did not stop Kelley from hearing floating chatter from hidden conversations. Puffy smoke rose from every stubby chimney stack, pillars to hold the gray sky up, Kelley imagined, and a plethora of cooking meals grumbled her stomach. Box gardens were impressive in their windows, and the cleanliness of their properties didn't allow a leaf or stray twig on the small emerald yards. The village was so immaculate it flattered Kelley to think this was all for her.

Nearby, a black kitten's attention was snared by Kelley's loud trek through the dry leaves. It poked out of a woodpile, forgetting the worm hooked in its tiny mouth. The worm squirmed and twisted and smacked against its foe, struggling in vain not to be a snack while the puss stared, memorized by the longer string on Kelley's backpack. The morsel dropped, and the kitten sprang at the lengthier meal. Several crunched leaps approached. Kelley stopped. The kitten froze, neck-deep in autumn, waiting for her next move. Kelley smiled and continued. The kitten bound, pouncing on the string and suffering the price of a tangled claw in the material.

Kelley giggled and hoisted up the headstrong cat. Oh kitty, it's a nylon drawstring, of course, your little nail is going to get caught.

The kitten didn't struggle in her warm hands and purred and sniffed her fingers. The jerky I ate. You're hungry, huh? The tough meat came out of her pocket and to the kitten's waiting mouth.

Are you a boy or a girl? A hind leg carefully plucked up for clarity, and the kitten growled and poked its needle claws into her palm and snapped its leg down. Ouch! Fine, it's none of my business! I just wanted to give you a proper name. Feeling sorry for it, she placed it and the jerky in the backpack on top of her woven scarf.

A short walk and the simple village square peeked from between the impossibly thin trees. An older man sat, eyes closed eyes, and appearing like a demoralized statue. Alone in the meeting place, Kelley had to assume he was the storyteller for the afternoon. She purposely awoke him with heavy steps and smiled a welcome greeting.

Embarrassed, he hurried up. Kelley, yes? How are you this fine, early afternoon?

I'm peachy, Mr. Oppelwall, thanks. She gladly wrapped both hands around his and squeezed. I would like to thank you for your time and trust in telling me your very personal experience. A required comment from her employer, she said it sincerely.

Amazement raised his eyebrows high. Aww, so you do have an accent. Remarkable! I was told the people on Earth have a unique one; every letter spoken, words burst forth, and your volume is a tad high. It's true! Kelley's grin faded a little, caught off-guard by his inquisitive nature. My apologies, Kelley, I'm a bit excited to meet you. You see, you're the first citizen of Earth I've ever met AND will tell my experience to. An adventure has come to me once again. A hearty grin filled his saggy cheeks.

Kelley chuckled. No, no, there's no offense at all. I'm a visitor to your world and expect questions about myself. And for the record: to me, you also have an accent that I haven't heard before. It's beautiful!

His smile grew to show dull teeth, and he invited her to sit. "There isn’t an ounce of trouble on my part, Kelley. I tell you this, as I do with everyone, to help educate you on the dangers and mysteries of this world. There is still a lot out here undocumented: plants, animal, humanoid species, an unknown world to most people not living their full potential by exploring and documenting their studies for future generations.

Not to be rude, but please tell me how your journey from your fancy world to Everr was? What means of the journey did you take to come to our green world?

Rapid blinks and a shift in her stance created her first awkward moment in Everr. I’m at a loss, Mr. Oppelwall; I’m only aware of one way into Everr.

"Was it a lovely door that welcomed you to my world? I’m sure it was. There is documented evidence of vast portions of land from Earth appearing here for a time, then leaving days later; your vehicles and contraptions are seen before vanishing. People have come out of the tree trunks, a gaping hole that wasn’t present moments ago, their confusion is evident on their faces. Or they step out of the forest, searching around for familiar landmarks. They said the fog was the last thing they remember.

Confusion and accident, this is the theme of their stories. Maybe the ancient royals who invited Earth to Everr didn’t foresee a leak of magic spreading across your planet. Maybe the doors they sent over are leaking. Whatever may be the case outside my theories, I don’t see the confusion on your face, so you must’ve taken a door to Everr.

Accidental visits to Everr are a known controversy back home, she said. But my way to Everr was traditional, a beautiful portal, a tall door, decorated with carvings relative to Everr. It’s nearly impossible to believe that a door could grow out of the soil with such beautiful details, but here I am! It took forever for it to fully ripe and dry, but was worth the wait. The sensation of knowing a simple door can take you to a place that I’ve dreamed about forever is too magnificent for words to describe.

Aww, good. Grew off a vine did it, or between a pair of trees, or straight up from the soil . . . As interruption in Kelley’s backpack stopped him.

A feline moan complained, and the kitten crawled out, finished with the jerky dinner. Kelley chuckled and scooted the cat under the bench. Mr. Oppelwall’s time was too valuable to be anywhere else but on his story.

Oh, a sight to see: a village cat with a visitor. That reminds me, isn’t the happy fairy with you? Dwansen, I believe her name was.

Rummaging through the backpack for a digital-recorder, Kelley said into the bag, No. She had to stay in Lewll village, down the mountain to help her friends with the fall-autumn festival thing. She carefully scrutinized the battery level. Everr had the annoying habit of draining battery devices twice the speed, even when not in use. Lumber sure is up here, huh? I’m surprised we’re not sitting in two feet of snow yet.

Mr. Oppelwall checked the clouds and enjoyed the way they settled on the alp tips, ready to release their treasure. Any time now and the snow will drop. It can be very peaceful here, but the winters are harsh. And when the storm has stopped, it becomes so quiet and warm, odd as that may sound.

The cold didn’t bother Mr. Oppelwall. Once upon a time, a steam dragon was used to thaw him from an ice-trap. Used for too long by an inexperienced apprentice, the steam entered Mr. Oppelwall’s bloodstream. Now summers were unbearable and winters warm.

Kelley was ready for the interview, but the thought had captured Mr. Oppelwall. His expression struggled. Dwansen, the fairy, told Kelley that he was once a brilliant explorer and his work a popular read in schools and the castle. Kelley wanted to hear his stories outside of this vampire theme.

I could imagine the winters up here, Kelley said, and discreetly switched the recorder on to avoid any questions about the technology. Lovely but also unforgiving.

Yes, it’s not for everyone, but makes for one of the most beautiful scenes I’ve ever laid my eyes upon. He brought his head down from the clouds. What will you do with my story? To be blunt. It’s a question I ask everyone.

The inevitable question, Kelley was coached on a false and straightforward answer by her employer. She broke eye contact and nervous thumbs swiped across the recorder. Um, to learn, just to learn . . . and . . . and write your experiences for the curious on Earth to read. The lie was almost visible. Misleading Mr. Oppelwall made her ill, but she had a contract to honor and protect the man who brought her to Everr.

He smiled. That’s what I like to hear. And though I would love to hear a story from you and Earth in trade, we need to get started. Dinner will be upon us sooner than we think, and the tavern roast is a meal I don’t want ever to neglect again. That’s another story for a longer day. The night won’t sleep for long.

Kelley checked her watch, much later than expected. Stress smothered her motivation to sit there. The possibility of getting caught by the night and blindly bumping into who-knows-what ticked closer to reality.

-Mr. Oppelwall’s story

At the time, I was fortunate to have two good friends in my young, everyday life. Their names were Avery and Dell, and we did everything—EVERYTHING—together! he exclaimed with a sudden rise. Embarrassment tightened around his face, and he settled back into the bench. Twenty years since his story had been heard by his ears, and the exciting nostalgia was like a visit from dear friends.

"Avery was eighteen. Dell and I, we were twenty-five that lifetime ago. It was at that headstrong age, in the time of the Quiet King and precious peace, that Avery decided one evening he was ready to try for the unique honor of being an Everr Knight.  

As you may or may not know, the Everr Knights are the cream-of-the-crop, the pinnacle of loyalty, and the defense and pride of our kingdom. A rare group of men with such skill that speaking about it only paints a crude picture of who they are. They don’t use magic as part of their talent but as a tool. To believe in their legend is to see them in action. They are the first or last ones called to save you; they are living legends. A single monarch rules the land of this world: the Zels. The four kingdoms in the sky and the three kingdoms in the oceans can make their excuses as to why they bicker like old crows but request help from our Everr Knights when their borders are invaded instead of using their talent and knights. But ours was an army back then at its peak of nineteen men, a golden time for peace and tranquility. Today, we have eight strong Everr Knights. And if you’re familiar with the rules, the extreme skill of mind and body were then, and presently, the two requirements to become a knight of Everr, and is the highest level of knighthood above Knight and Castle Knight. But above all the prestige, I believe the skill of the mind is needed most to be an effective and respected knight. As evident by the testimonies of those who told the knights’ stories of adventure and survival. And that’s what has kept me alive all these years, blindly exploring this world, a good head on my shoulders. Yet a brain alone won’t save you when the enemy ambushes you with a sword. That’s where the material requirements come into play. They are expected to demonstrate their skill with a weapon to the other knights and impress them because this is the man or woman who is going to the upmost quests to trust to protect their backsides . . . he paused, hurt by the last sentence.

His change of behavior was concerning. Kelley didn’t know if it was due to his old age or if he spoke of a forgotten memory. Despite the imminent evening, she allowed him time.

He broke the silence with a chest-filled chuckle. "I remember how one future Everr Knight went out to capture a Bull Dragon, using only the forest natural resources. Another went through Glacier Castle and captured twenty-one of its guards and eight Castle Knights in broad daylight! And yet another secretly destroyed the entire armada of pirate sky-ships. I hope you get the picture.

Avery formed an idea that would absolutely make him an Everr Knight. A plan of action never attempted in the past or to this day. Avery wanted to capture the most loathed and tortured of the humanoid kind: a vampire—a bloody vamp! Unaware, he smashed tufts of the cloak in both hands. The tale switched on his anxiety like a reflex. A good idea, or fantasy, I suppose. He was convinced the Knights would teach him how to combat thereafter. And why not, he just captured a vampire and delivered it wrapped pretty to their front door. The respect from that unique achievement would’ve had the Knights’ begging to train him . . .

Were there ever any lady knights? Kelley abruptly asked, spurned by Earth’s standard of the knight. Or does the kingdom not believe in their women?"

Yes, of course, there was one! he exclaimed, half expecting her to know this. One lady with that special privilege in history, but only one so far. Her name was Elizabeth. Elizabeth Dutch. And she could contend with the best of them. In fact, she began the legendary campaign to imprison the World Vexed Titans, those criminal giants. Unfortunately, she’s been dead for over a hundred years and buried with honor in the Knights’ Crypt under the castle. Her story is another long afternoon to tell on a more agreeable day. Every knight has a lengthy chronicle to hear.

Kelley grinned in the way of an apology. Please go on.

"Let’s see, where we were . . . oh yes, Avery. Avery had an idea but no plan and never did fathom one either. Even our protests to help him formulate a plan were well ignored. Dell and I were forbidden by his conscience to help in any way—he wouldn’t allow it. So, in the end, we let him be with his notion. I if it were me, I wouldn’t want the help either. It wouldn’t be a fulfilled dream if I accepted aid.

"Now his idea, well part of it required a vampire, and this meant he had to find one. And to acquire the knowledge of the location of one is not only dangerous but also a difficult decision in your life.

"See, finding a vampire and not killing it immediately is a curse upon that poor soul. This is because the vampire will play with and harass you for any amount of time during your life and then kill you off. I’ve heard during my treks that some folks have committed suicide to end their misery of vampire harassment, therefore, making it a generally good idea to leave them alone.

For Avery, though, that wasn’t an option, and he traveled far and wide in a desperate search for THE vampire. There were letters he sent to Dell and I. Mind you, he was gone for over a year and sent us a total of five, and to this day, I still feel the guilt for being angry at him for not thinking to send us more. He dried the eye furthest from Kelley. The last letter we read, he wrote he stumbled upon a vampire, his key to greatness, his name on the wall of the Great Hall at Glacier Castle. And the pleasant news of that letter was the postscript: he was coming home, for his vampire was closer to our village than expected. Other than that, he never crumbled on further details of how he found the lair. It was a subject he avoided altogether.

Mr. Oppelwall straightened up and subtle to just him cleaned another tear.

And to make this experience a life-long confusion, when the subject of accompanying him to the vampire arose from Dell and me, surprisingly, he never did directly say no. I suppose he had time to stew in the fact of his lofty vampire-goal and hinted he didn’t mind the moral support of a day’s lead in a straight, north-western route from our village. Fortunately, someone educated him about vampires while on his travels. Originally, he wanted to wait for the first snowfall then set out on his mission to hunt for the vampire’s home, and not travel blind or juvenile.

His last statement was breathtaking, and goose-bumps sprung on Kelley’s arms and neck. She recalled from her employer, but found it improbable at the time, of the combination between vampire and the pure snow.

Softly she quoted, Because, in Everr, snow reveal’s a person’s true colors.

"That’s correct. Avery thought it a good idea to wait one month for winter to come so he could know when the vampire was home by the fresh cloven tracks they leave. Though, I couldn’t see his patience holding on much longer for a proper snowfall to hide the ground. He tried to be smart—mature—about the whole matter and to be safe and not go charging in without a concrete plan, which has eluded him thus far. He needed the snow on the ground as a forewarning of his vampire, and the betrayal of their unique and horrific footprints. And since he badly desired knighthood, he also wanted it granted upon him by winter’s end. This was a temptation that played tug-of-war on his heart and mind between a reliable course of action and acting on impulse fueled by impatience.

As the days slowly melted into weeks, ‘now’ won out over ‘later,’ and Avery set out before the dusting of snow. Mr. Oppelwall sighed shook his head. "He even changed his feelings about us following behind him.

"Those were strange days for Avery. He became older in appearance and spoke less to us. Was he pushing us away for our safety? Was he losing his mind with the obsession to be an Everr Knight? Or was he going mad to have that vampire in his grasp finally? Questions Dell and I sometimes ask ourselves to put some justice on the actions of a man we thought we knew.

"He asked us to meet at his home in a few nights when he returned from his vampire study. He claimed that’s what he finally devised: to study the vampire and nothing more and finally formulate a real plan from his newfound information. In the end, I saw this as a useful ploy on his part to keep us from worrying and follow and maybe stop him. We were supposed to gather under his window upon the agreed night to hear the results. This was a moral comfort for Dell and me to see some hints of the practical Avery we knew. And before he departed, we made him promise not to deviate from the said plan. He pledged, without eye contact, and traveled out that evening.

The bittersweet grasp of youth convinced me to believe what he said. I was certain he would keep his word because he didn’t have any clue how to hold a vampire prisoner. And to this day, no person does. If he did, he didn’t reveal to us . . . his voice crackled, and he balled his hands, squeezing his knuckles white. Unblinking, he watched the kitten and went utterly still. Even the cold mist was absent from his mouth and nose.

Kelley waited on Mr. Oppelwall’s daydream, unprepared to help him through an emotional-crippling situation. 

A breeze howled in the trees and shifted the ground-leaves and pulled new ones down. Heavier now, the clouds sank lower on the mountain, and to stand on a rooftop and reach up seemed to be all you needed to put your hand in the snow.

After some time, Mr. Oppelwall returned and smiled half-heartedly. I apologize, miss. Telling you this story is like flipping through a forgotten picture book—the memories. I was stronger in my telling of this story when I was younger, but it has been a couple of decades, and I’ve done nothing to come to terms with it. Either way, he should’ve waited for the snow, pure and clean, to reveal a vampire’s tracks and warn him to be careful.

Kelley began searching through her backpack and produced an impossibly small silver camcorder and flipped open a side panel screen. Mr. Oppelwall’s eyes brightened. Sorry, she blurted. I’d like you to watch this video, please. This is a device that memorizes the past and shows it to you again whenever you want. Think of this like a time-box that can take you to a certain period in the past if this thing has looked at it. What you’re about to see was filmed here in Everr some years ago by a . . . friend. Her employer’s camcorder, she had to lie to him again.

The screen glowed and filled with confusing sounds of exhaustion and a swishing picture of running through the nighttime winter forest. At the bottom right corner, the time and date stamp: almost three in the morning and two years ago. This confused and amused Mr. Oppelwall.

Kelley shrugged. Sorry, I have to forward the scene a little.

The video went mute, and the trees zipped comically along, tickling a big smile out of Mr. Oppelwall. The rumors proved true. Earth technology of metal cases doing all the thinking and remembering for you. Kelley pressed the onscreen play logo.

A few more seconds of jogging in the crunching snow and the picture stilled and clouds of tired breath bellowed forward. The movie pointed to the ground and panned left and right in search and settled on a set of fine pressed tracks and zoomed in. A clumsy search by the cameraman for the built-in light popped and switched on. Hue glittered in the snow and revealed the shadowed impressions of a man’s tailored shoe — a heeled-shoe print not intended for a winter stroll.

A deep, excited male’s voice from behind the camcorder exclaimed, YES! I knew he was near! He’s not going far in that footwear.

Kelley tapped the screen and forwarded the video until he arrived at a small, dimly lit village. Fogged breath curled across the lens and blurred the glass, and a fuzzy silhouette of a black mitten wiped the moisture off. He fell to his knees and focused in better detail on the print and air-traced it with his thumb. The impression told of a skinny man who isn’t to be feared. But assumption changed as it entered the sleepy village, and the footprint morphed into a cloven hoof.

The camera slowed in pace, as did his breathing. Each mystifying steps were several more lengths of the