The Valley Chronicles: Quest

By C. M. Selbrede

The battle has been won, but the war rages on-- and in order to find the secret to defeating the Soldiers of Sorrow once and for all, it's up to John and Violet to journey beyond the Mountains of Mystery for the first time in thousands of years. (Well, there was that one expedition but they all died horribly so it really doesn't count.)

John and Violet, joined by a host of allies and enemies old and new, will find themselves tested as never before in this strange and wild beyond. But with John high on a power which he doesn't understand, one which seemingly brought him back from death, and Violet crippled by a loss of faith, it may be up to some new heroes to take center stage in this thrilling tale of change, self-discovery, and truth.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Dec 16, 2017
• ISBN: 9781387334360

Book preview

The Valley Chronicles: Quest

The Valley Chronicles: Quest

Copyright © 2017 by Craig Selbrede

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

First Printing: 2017

ISBN: 978-1-387-33436-0

ACC Publishing Ink.

Cover Art by Sophie Shen

Dedication

For Derrick and Mercedes DeSilva, my grandparents

Who have been on so many journeys

Sacrificed so much,

And built a successful, loving family wherever they went.

Prologue

An Echo of the Past

Indeed, in his many years of life, Zebulon felt he had never seen a day so dismal and dark.

Perhaps it was the peacetime which made the pouring rain stand out more than usual; after all, during the Great War he and his allies had far more pressing matters than an unpleasant drizzle. It had been years since he'd ended the war destroying his homeland and the forces vying for control of the Foreverlands had at last retreated to their native worlds. Despite this, Zebulon felt something was sorely amiss this evening. Something which would bring danger to the battle-weary lion and the Valley he had chosen to call home.

Thank you for meeting me in the inclement weather, Zebulon purred respectfully, dipping his head to the regent who stood before him.

You are aware that rain does not affect us as it does flesh-ones. The King tilted his head impassively. Your concern is unnecessary.

Well, it is polite, Zebulon pointed out with a slight chuckle, and the faintest glimmer of a smile passed the King's icy lips.

Why have you called me here, today? The King questioned, indicating with an airy gesture the weary old trail they now walked. Few of your people have need to leave the Valley nowadays. This path is rarely used.

I am well aware, the lion laughed again, though this time a note of bitterness found its way into his voice. This is a matter of great urgency. There has been a prophecy.

Drat, the King sighed. I do so hate prophecies.

I'm not too fond of them either, Zebulon growled, and the two came to a stop beneath the thin shelter of a quivering oak. The Council and I have been doing our best to decipher it these past few days. King Emerald's knowledge of Gossamer tongue is helpful, but we've still run into trouble. Do you know what an 'Earth' is?

The King shrugged. Haven't a clue.

I figured as much, Zebulon mused, his tail whipping unconsciously. And the prophecies seem very taken with flowers. They talk of them constantly, and cryptically.

The Oracles aren't exactly known for their clarity. The King rolled his eyes. But that doesn't explain why you called for me. My people are not translators. We are not musicians.

No. Zebulon swallowed. But I believe you could be good guardians.

Intriguing. The King raised an eyebrow, surprised. Do you plan to elaborate, or to sing more riddles?

We don't understand most of the prophecies, Zebulon explained, a heaviness in his words. But the one we do understand promises trouble. Big trouble. It states that one day, people of the Valley will venture past the Mountains of Mystery once more. And when they do, the unthinkable will happen.

As Zebulon related his plan to his ally, the King remained silent and solemn, lost in thought. Even once Zebulon had finished, it took a few moments for the proud monarch to meet his eyes.

What you ask... he hesitated, before starting again, What you ask is doable. But are you sure? Prophecies always promise doom and gloom. Sealing the Valley off completely seems rather drastic.

The Crown and the Animal Tribes are in agreement, Zebulon assured him. And even if they weren't, the Oracles have spoken. I have a duty to my people.

The King held Zebulon's regretful gaze with a steady calm. Zebulon of the flesh-ones. My people owe more to you than to any other. Whatever you ask of us will be done. Seeing his friend's troubled countenance, the King unexpectedly added: The Valley shall be saved. There is no need for worries.

I wish I could stop worrying, Zebulon sighed. But these Valley-forsaken prophecies are stuck in my head. I wish they would stop, give me some peace. They and their wilting flowers.

Few enjoy the music of destiny, the King observed. The Oracles sing tricky songs.

Songs of death and beauty. The lion looked up at the dead, grey sky, searching desperately for a ray of light. Songs of roses, and lilies, and violets.

A Forgotten Thread

Frederick had been in bad situations before, but he had never feared death the way he did now.

His breathing was shallow, his gaze hard. Frederick weakly searched the dank and disgusting walls of the cell, searching for some way, any way, to escape. But even if there was a way, Frederick doubted he would make it far before his injured leg gave out. It was most likely infected, he figured. Not that it mattered. He would be dead long before the injury took its toll.

If he was lucky, he would pass away rotting in this tiny cell, crammed among the decomposing remains of the cell's previous tenants. But Frederick was not optimistic - his chance of being forgotten by those monsters was slim.

Frederick slammed his eyes shut as another burst of pain arced up his leg. He grit his teeth, fighting nausea, and thought of his friends. Caleb. Trent. Ruby.  John and Violet, wherever they were. He thought of Verna, Dustin, Reynolds, Juno, and Brown, his former companions on this doomed quest. They had all fallen one by one to the horrific obstacles in and beyond the Mountains of Mystery. If only Frederick had never set off on this quest.

It seemed so silly now. It had never occurred to the people of the Valley that the Mountains surrounding them could be sheltering them from the world beyond. If he had a second chance at life, there would be just one thing he’d do; warn the Valley. Tell them that there was nothing but death and worse beyond the Mountains. That under no circumstance should they ever, ever leave their home. Nothing could be worse than the horrors he had faced. Nothing.

A panicked shudder wracked Frederick as he heard the unnatural footsteps approaching his cell. The rickety wooden door that separated him from the monsters outside began to shake with the footsteps’ impact. Frederick slumped across the moldy floor, slowing his breathing and closing his eyes. Maybe the monsters would think he was dead and toss him to the vultures. Maybe he would even be able to escape this hellhole, get to a messenger and warn the Valley. Despite himself, Frederick experienced momentary hope.

The door was thrust open, and suddenly there was the breath of a monster on his neck. He cried out in fear despite himself as the creature licked the back of his neck and sharp talons twisted his head toward his captor. Frederick tried to fight the tears that sprung to his eyes. He would not shame the Valley like this. Still, he felt a small bead of water trickle down his cheek as he was dragged roughly out the door and into the light he had been deprived of for days.

Frederick’s eyes slammed shut against the sudden brightness, a boon he thanked the Great Seed for. He would not need to gaze upon the devils in this haze. But they made up for it with their laughing, a harsh, inhuman sound which resounded in his very mind. From their voices, Frederick could tell they were organized in two lines, through which he was being dragged. A procession of sorts. The urge to vomit grew stronger as the laughing slowly grew louder, more intense. Frederick squeezed his eyes so they were shut even tighter, wishing it would all just end.

And it did. The noise abruptly stopped as Frederick was roughly tossed forward. He grit his teeth as he collided with the stone, soaked with the blood of countless others. In front of him, a hissing, inhuman voice sounded.

Frederick... of the Valley... Open your eyes.

Frederick squeezed his eyes shut even harder, determined not to gaze into those hollow eyes. They wanted him to see their mangled faces. They wanted him to scream.

He would not give them what they wanted.

The same gnarled talons caressed his cheeks, drawing blood. Open your eyes, Frederick. We want to hear you scream.

I... I won't, Frederick murmured to himself, trying to stay strong.

We'll be creative. You'll have fun, the creatures told him gleefully. We'll keep you alive when we start eating the flesh. We'll make you watch. Then you'll scream.

Frederick's breath caught in his throat, and another tear slipped down his cheek.

Why so sad? the evil voice whispered.  Your bones won't be alone for long. Some of your friends are coming soon. Very, very soon. You thought they left you, but they can't stay away. Their screams can keep yours company, when you're dead.

John and Violet. It couldn't be. But... No. It couldn't be.

I... don't... Frederick hiccupped. I don't believe you.

Belief is nothing, The creatures cackled. We don't want your belief. We want you to scream. We want you to beg.

Something wet and barbed washed over the wound on Frederick's cheek. It stung. One of the creatures had licked him.

Scream for us, Frederick, they laughed together, and claws sank into his side. Scream! Scream!

The beasts converged on Frederick. His last thought before he started screaming was a comforting one- John and Violet would be safe, for they would never return to the Valley. And they would never, ever embark on the same quest he had.

An Ancient Hymn of the Valley

My children, count your blessings

For you have never seen war.

And, more

Never a war as terrible at this.

Be thankful you have not seen

Men walk as monsters

And monsters,

Men.

Be thankful you have not seen the evil

which lurks beyond.

My children, be thankful

For your home is safe, and kind,

And never shall you ever want

to venture into the destruction beyond.

Part One:

What You

Know

Chapter One- Violet

It took me all of two seconds to realize I was being followed.

The mall food court was huge, loud, and packed, as per usual. For a professional, the tightly-jammed tables and shifting, exuberant crowds would have provided more than enough cover, but my brother had never been professional. As with most things, he clearly had no idea what he was doing.

The first big giveaway was that the group of high-schoolers he was sticking with made no effort to acknowledge him, no fist bumps or grins or even eye contact. Even if they had been tricked into paying attention to John, though, I still would've instantly recognized his clipped haircut and familiar shorts-and-t-shirt combination. And even in the very unlikely event a disguise had even occurred to my brother, John would've still stood out from the rest. We were different, and you could see it in our eyes.

We were survivors. Not that anyone would ever understand why.

John and I had endured not one, but two unexpected detours into another land, world, dimension, whatever you wanted to call it, and we'd 'saved it' both times. Sure, we'd stopped the clearly-evil Soldiers of Sorrow from opening Pandora's Box, and sure, John had picked up some powerful and ill-defined magic, but I wasn't stupid enough to think we had won. Good people had died, bad people had lived, and everyone had suffered. That's why I’d made the choice I made. That's why I had sworn off The Valley.

It was a good place, sure, but it brought out something dark in people. A need to survive. A need to take the fate of the world into their hands. A need to hurt others for the greater good.

I was getting really tired of telling John I was done.

Come out, John, I sighed absently, patting an empty seat at my booth and pulling my backpack closer to me. I watched with slight amusement as John did a double take, realizing he was exposed. Reluctantly, he approached, fingering his arrowhead necklace nervously and waving shortly as he separated from the crowd. I glared slightly and he flinched.

So, uh, it's so weird to see you here. John cracked a cheesy grin as he slid into the empty booth. Do you shop here?

John, you live in Maine, I reminded him, rolling my eyes at the obvious attempt at a lie. We're in D.C. And as far as I know, you still can't drive.

Maybe I just popped over to grab a present for you from your favorite store, John offered, leaning back in an effort to appear casual. You like gift cards, right? Everyone likes gift cards.

Yeah, maybe. I nodded sarcastically. Or maybe you're stalking me.

What? John gasped, with just a tad too much astonishment.

We've been over this, I reminded my brother, giving him a hard expression. I'm fine. You're fine. We're both fine. You don't need to keep checking up on me like I'm five.

We're family. John played with his fingers, clearly uncomfortable. I can't stop by for a visit?

It's not a visit when it takes that much out of you, I pointed out, indicating the fading runes sketched across John's hands by Ruby. Self-consciously, John put his hands in his lap.

It doesn't hurt as much as you'd think, he protested weakly.

But it does hurt, I responded coolly. You're not powered up by all that saved Despair magic any more, John. Magic isn't as simple as flicking a switch. It's dangerous.

Anything's dangerous if you try hard enough, John replied, chewing the inside of his cheek.

Yeah, I agreed. And you do try.

Last November, when all of this had gone down and John had ended up with superpowers, he'd been insanely powerful. Super strength, accelerated healing, even the power to teleport between worlds. But the taxing battle against the Soldiers completely exhausted whatever collective power they had built up, and now John had to play by more complicated rules.

The power is still there, he had explained to me once. It's just a little more draining. I'm still the same smartphone, but my battery life is lower.

So, John had started learning some shortcuts from Ruby. Runes to help retain strength. Symbols to accelerate healing carved into leather bands around his wrist. Circles of stone that helped him travel between worlds- or states- with magic.

Between the runes and the increase in jewelry, he was starting to look like a hipster or something. Which would've been funny had I not been worried for him.

John was playing with power he did not understand.

I didn't come to argue with you about magic. John shoved his hands into his pockets defensively.

No, I acknowledged. You're here to try to convince me to go back.

John didn't even try to refute this. My next trip is this Wednesday, he told me. I'm meeting up with Ripple and Oak at the deer settlement for a status update. You know, the Soldiers are still--

What part of 'no' is not sinking in? I laughed shortly. I'm not going back, John.

Oh, come on! John threw his hands up. It's just a visit.

A visit where you slowly namedrop the war until I'm inspired to take up arms against the Soldiers of Sorrow? I raised an eyebrow. Let's return to 'no'. I'm done with fighting.

We're fighting right now, John pointed out.

Lightly, I ceremonially banged my forehead against the table. God, can you stop being like this for a second?

Like what? Like a great brother? John replied. Because I'm sorry, it comes too naturally.

Please, can you just respect my boundaries and stop bugging me about this? I was practically begging at this point. And stop having Twiggy send me sad cards. I'm running out of room on my dresser.

Everyone's worried about you, Violet, John pressed. Mom says you haven't been hanging out with your friends. You quit orchestra. You just, like, eat, sleep, and do homework.

Mom worries too much. I grit my teeth, frustrated. She thinks I have PTSD or something from last fall. She told me to go to the mall to be with friends and socialize.

So you're socializing with a burrito? John gave my lunch a sideways glance.

I just need a bit to myself. I was getting tired of defending myself. I'd be fine if you'd give me some space.

This conversation is going in circles, John observed, frowning.

Yeah, our conversations tend to do that. I crumpled up the remains of my food and got to my feet. I think I'm done with this one.

Well, I'm not, John protested, following me as I disposed of my garbage and strung my purse over my shoulder.

Seriously, John, leave me alone, I told him emphatically. And when I find your circle of stones or whatever you're using to jump over here, you can bet they're going in the garbage.

I don't think the garbage people take those, John called after me as I walked away and out of the food court. I took in a shaky breath, clenching my hand into a fist and keeping my eyes straight ahead.

The bus ride back home was largely uneventful and I got some more of my homework done on the way. To my surprise, the bus driver had taken advantage of the warm June breeze and had lowered the windows. It took a bit of effort to keep my papers from escaping into the street, but it was worth it. There was something that felt good about just sitting there, in the breeze, with no responsibilities and no judgment.

I still felt really, really, selfish.

I mean, did I feel one hundred percent justified in quitting the Valley? Absolutely. Did that magically cure me of all my guilt and keep me from missing my friends? Nope. As I'd learned last year, things were never that simple. But I'd made the best choice I could, and it would be really nice if John would respect that.

The bus pulled up next to my mother's old brick townhome and I zipped up my bag and got to my feet. As the doors creaked open, I smiled at the bus driver and descended the metal stairs until my sneakers touched down on concrete. The bus whizzed away impatiently and I was left staring passively at the deep red door which led home. Nervously, I fiddled with some of the rings I had picked out this morning. Time to step into another hall of half-justified lectures. With what had to be my hundredth sigh that day, I crossed the yard and pulled my keys from my jean pocket. With a click, I was standing in our small foyer, and with a bark, Hodgey was descending the stairs excitedly to greet me.

Hey... Hodgey. I rubbed his ears with the same mixture of affection and uncertainty I had been using the past year. Neither of us had been in the Valley for months, but that didn't change the fact that we had been there. And he had talked, and fought, and been my friend. It felt extremely weird to treat him like a regular dog now.

Of course, there was nothing about returning from a magical fantasy world that wasn't extremely weird.

As Hodgey rubbed against my shins, my mother's voice sounded from the rooms beyond. Violet? she called, even though I was the only other person with keys to the house. Is that you?

Yeah, I called back absently, hanging my keys back on their hook and pulling off my shoes. I'm back from the mall.

Can you come talk to me before you get settled? my mother replied. I tensed.

Uh, why?

Violet... there was a hint of warning buried beneath my name. Come talk to me, now.

Well, I'm doomed, I sighed, crouching down to pet Hodgey one last time. Please give me a burial befitting my rank.

It shall be done, he rasped in his familiar growly tones, and I bit back a giggle.

See you on the other side, I grinned, and headed for my mother's study.

Here's the thing about my mother- I love her dearly, but she isn't the neatest of parents. Back when she and Dad were still, you know, married, it hadn't been as noticeable. But now that it was just the two of us, a steady layer of clutter had slowly manifested across the entirety of our home, encroaching on every space, none more so than her office.

I'm still not clear on exactly what my mother does (I think it involves designing office equipment or something?), but whatever it is, she can work from home and does so on many occasions. So she set aside a little-used room near the back of our house, one which had been originally intended as some sort of extra sitting room, and crammed it with bookcases and laptops. I used to go here for help with my homework sometimes, and John and I had played computer games together here. But nowadays, I mostly stopped by to get yelled at. Directly or indirectly.

My mother looked up from her computer, blowing a stray strand of graying hair from her eyes. How was the mall?

Great, I replied automatically, choosing my posture and smile carefully. How was your work?

Eh, the usual. My mother waved off the question, determined not to be distracted from her goal. Did you see anyone you knew there?

My thoughts immediately went to John, and I shook my head. No. I mostly did homework.

At the mall? My mother repeated dubiously.

Well, someone forced me into going there, I reminded her. "You know, most parents want their kids to do homework."

My mother was never one for humor. You know this situation is different.

You don't know the half of it, I wanted to say. My mother had no idea what I had been through, how much John had changed, or why she sometimes heard a muted voice when she was home alone watching Downton Abbey. Hodgey was very invested in the current season.

For some reason, I felt this would be a nonstarter. I fumbled for an appropriate reaction. Yeah, uh... yeah.

Great, Violet. Very articulate.

You know, we still have that therapist on retainer, my mother offered. It'll be good for you to have someone to talk to.

We're talking now, I pointed out stupidly. It occurred to me that I might be a lot more like John than I preferred to believe.

My mother pressed her lips into a hard line and regarded me carefully. She seemed to want to say something else, but didn't. Instead, she asked: What do you have left for homework?

I, uh, actually finished it all, I admitted, unable to keep relief from underlining my words. I was thinking of watching some TV and going to bed early.

That's probably good. My mother nodded carefully. Tomorrow's a school day and you've got your final tests coming up, don't you?

Next week, I clarified, shifting toward the door. I'm a little worried about my English test, but I've been studying and I should be good.

Well, don't let me keep you from enjoying the rest of your weekend. My mother smiled without warmth. I have a meeting this evening, so I'll be out. Can you handle dinner?

I nodded.

Well then, go get some rest. My mother turned reluctantly back to computer. Remember to walk Hodgey before it gets too dark. Love you.

Love you, I echoed, already halfway out the door.

I woke up drenched in cold sweat, sitting up with a gasp. Blearily, I fumbled for a light. My hand found a switch and a small lamp flickered on, illuminating just enough of the room for me to remember where I was.

I'm home, I murmured to myself, as I had done on so many nights before. I'm safe, I'm home, I'm good.

I turned the light back off and flopped backwards back into my bed. Shivering, I pulled my covers tighter around me. I'm good, I whispered. I'm good.

Chapter Two- John

So, how was Violet? Sara asked absently, popping another french fry into her mouth from her lunch tray.

Well... I bit my lip, hesitating to reply as I took a seat at our regular lunch table. I wasn't exactly sure how to phrase this.

That bad, huh? Evan observed next to me, grabbing one of Sara's fries before she could react. As she scowled at him, he grinned and popped it into his mouth. Sharing is caring, Sara.

That must be why we haven't shared a meaningful conversation in years, she replied icily, and I laughed despite myself. I caught Sara's eyes, and we shared a high five. Evan shoved me playfully and I retaliated in turn.

Hey, no fair, Evan protested, though he was laughing. Some of us don't have creepy superpowers.

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, I replied, popping a chip in my mouth and taking a swig of bottled water. And you have nowhere to go but up.

It was good to have some people around me who weren't trying to kill me, or trying not to be killed. When I was around my friends, everything else felt as irrelevant as my school's math curriculum. I could get away from the end of middle school and the steady approach of High School. I could get away from the inevitable return of the Soldiers of Sorrow and the complicated and ridiculous rules of magic. I could get away from Violet and the guilt we saw reflected in each other's eyes.

That got dark really, really, fast. Maybe I did need therapy.

Shaking my head, I tried to return my attention to the bustling cafeteria. Humphrie had just gotten back from the lunch line and had slid into a seat across from Sara. So, the food is suspect as ever, he observed, poking the chicken with a plastic fork. But it's clearly healthy, since they shoved it on a wheat bun.

Clearly. Sara, midway through her own sandwich, grimaced. God bless America, right?

You need to get better at teleporting so you can take us to a school system with half decent lunches, Evan shot at me. Or, you know, you could take us to the Valley.

How many times am I going to have to say no to this? I rolled my eyes, popping a dilapidated grape into my mouth. Valley scary. Evan die.

You'll have to give in sometime. Evan shrugged, putting down his apple core. That much negativity is unhealthy.

So is a sword in the chest, I pointed out wryly. Just ask Krowley.

You're getting better at drawing those symbols, Humphrie mused in between bites, studying my hands carefully. I looked away self-consciously.

Yeah, a little, I admitted. But I really miss just being able to punch things.

I think the symbols are cooler, Sara offered, tilting her head to get a better look at them. A few locks of hair fell in front of her face and she tucked them behind her ear. They seem more... elegant.

Elegant? Evan snorted. Really?

Oh, whatever. Sara glared at him. At least I-- She stopped suddenly, looking at something behind me. Unconsciously, I turned, and my heart sank. A familiar face had been studying us from another table, but as our eyes brushed he hurriedly turned back to his lunch. I felt a little bit of lead catch in my throat.

Xavier, Evan observed, his voice impassive. His eyes, on the other hand, showed something different. Something like anger.

I turned back to my lunch, my mood abruptly deflated. Guys, it's okay.

No, it's really not. Sara sounded furious. She aggressively popped another fry into her mouth, trying to calm down. God, he's turned into such a jerk.

He just needs time, I murmured flatly, though I had no idea if that was the case. It just sort of seemed like the right thing to say. I'm not dangerous, or insane, or whatever he thinks I am.  I'm the same as I've always been.

Well, except for the powers, and the symbols, and the bracelets, Evan reminded me, before realizing the implication of his words. Totally the same.

An awkward silence descended upon our table. Everyone was suddenly very interested in their phones. I didn't blame them.

I wasn't normal anymore, and I wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

After lunch, I had science and social studies, which were relatively uneventful. I'm okay at science, and history is actually pretty interesting. It's a bunch of dead people being just as stupid as I am, which makes me feel a little better about the state of my life. But just a little.

But the moment I stepped into Mr. Barker's room, I knew something was wrong. Kids were frantically unzipping their bags, searching through folders, and stapling papers. Panic was written all over the faces of my friends as I dropped my bag near our table, which could only mean one thing- we had a pop quiz.

John, I almost forgot our essay was due today. Jason laughed nervously as I sat down. Good thing it was in my folder.

Well, okay, it could mean two things. It could also mean I had an English essay due today. An essay which I had spent hours writing yesterday, only to completely forget to put it in my English folder.

I swore under my breath and practically lunged for my folder. I leafed through it like crazy, even though in my heart I already knew the worst to be true... the paper was nowhere to be found.

Briefly, I despaired and slouched onto my desk. My grade for the semester was doomed. I was so, so close to the end of middle school and I was going to kill my good grades at the last moment. My dreams were dead. Unless...

An idea came to me and I sat up, reinvigorated. I mean, it wasn't technically against the code of conduct to magically summon one's late paper from home, right? I didn't see it, at least. They must've forgotten to include that bullet. They really should've thought through every contingency if they didn't want their kids leaning on magic.

I made a beeline for the bathroom pass, nodding at the disinterested Mr. Barker before reaching the hallway. I then broke into a sprint, heading into the guy's bathroom before a teacher could call me out for running in the hallways. I locked myself in a stall and took a moment to regain my bearings.

Come on, come on. I tried to mute my panic as I called to mind the last time Ruby had showed me this spell. Taking deep breaths, I pulled out a pen and started sketching some rough symbols on my forearm. I closed my eyes and started to focus.

"Uh, carlek nottum, uh..." I furrowed my brow, trying to remember. Nothing. I hadn't really been listening when Ruby had explained it to me after all. Sapphire had started passing me funny notes during Ruby's lessons, which was really something I was starting to regret.

Okay, so, getting the paper to me was out. But maybe getting me to the paper wasn’t. This would be the second time in twenty-four hours I would be teleporting, and the first time without a stone circle on either ends. But hey, I had done it before during the battle. What could go wrong?

(I am fully aware, of course, that basically everything could go wrong. It was a rhetorical question and I don't need your judgment. I was panicked, okay? And it's not like I was the brightest bulb in the box to begin with).

Keeping my eyes shut, I changed my focus to my bedroom and the space right by my desk. I needed to be there. I needed to be there. I needed to--

Suddenly, it felt like I was drowning, and it occurred to me that this was not a very good idea.

Last year, when I had first discovered the magic which my best friend/mortal enemy had bound to my soul or whatever, I had entered my own mind, in an effort to change my connection to it. This felt a lot like that, except wilder, and darker, and underwater.

There was a sharp pain in my chest, and a heat coming from my hands, and I was struggling to breathe. Everything was black and rippling, and colors shone through but didn't quite reach my eyes. Whispers I couldn't understand murmured in my ears. Everything smelled like burnt rubber. Struggling to regain control, I cleared my mind of all thoughts. I kept the fear and confusion contained.

I focused harder than ever before.

Then, slowly, the fog around me started to clear and my room began to appear around me. It didn't quite seem to be in focus, and I still felt like I was suffocating. I was about to drop out, try to ride the current back, when I caught sight of my essay, lying on my desk. It was just as blurred as everything else, but it was there.

Well, I got this far, I feel like I would've said if I was able to talk.

I extended my arm towards it, but it was just out of reach. I pushed, and pushed, and pushed, but I was running out of juice (if I had any juice to begin with). With one final burst of energy, I pushed through, and my hands closed around something solid.

Suddenly, I was back in the bathroom stall.

My knees buckled, and I grabbed for support. It felt like I'd just been hit by a car. Or it at least felt like what I assume being hit by a car feels like. I waited a moment for the dizziness to clear, counting like Sapphire had taught me. One... I gritted my teeth. Two... three...

Cracking my neck, I got to my feet. For the first time, I realized that I had evidently succeeded in some form. There was something crumpled in my hand. Ignoring the sharp pain radiating from some of the symbols etched on my wrist, I unfolded my prize. My heart sank as I got a good look at it.

The words were a smeared, incomprehensible mess. There was no way I could read this, let alone turn it in. That had been a colossal waste.

Ugh, I groaned, crumpling the paper back up and shoving it in my pocket. I unlocked the stall door and pushed my way out. As I passed the mirrors, I stopped and did a double take.

There was something dripping from my left eye. For a second, I thought I had smeared ink or something there. But as I wiped it off with my elbow, I realized it had been a tear. Or something like a tear.

There was room for doubt since it was pitch black.

Okay. I swallowed hard. Not reassuring.

I gazed at the smear on my arm, my mind reeling from the implications of this. This is great. Really great. I backed away from the mirror, running a hand though my hair. Am I going to have to start having my friends carry wooden stakes around when they hang out with me? I wondered aloud. Because that might be--

Suddenly, a toilet flushed.

There was a creak as the other stall opened and a confused sixth grader emerged. He looked me up and down, looking a little terrified.

Uh... hi? I tried to look inconspicuous.

The kid took a small step back. His eyes seemed to grow even wider as his gaze moved from me to something behind me. I realized I was standing between him and the sink. Quickly, I moved aside and headed toward the door.

Once I was back in the hallway, I walked dazedly to a water fountain and took a few deep sips. I then proceeded to throw some of that probably toxic water in my face, because I had seen people do it on TV and it seemed appropriate. I stood up, closed my eyes, and took a shaky breath.

That had been an absolute wreck. And the sad thing was, this wasn't the first time something like that had happened to me. Ruby told me to know my limits. And I thought I did. But then I screwed up and did something like this, and I felt like I was going under. Whatever that meant.

Stop it, I told myself, trying to snap back to reality. It had just been a minor mistake. I'm good. I'm good.

Hey, John? Evan peeked his head out of Mr. Barker's room. You okay?

Yeah, fine. I lifted the corners of my mouth into what I hoped would pass for a smile. Evan shrugged and I followed him back inside.

I would figure out whatever this was. But first I was going to get through this day of school.

John? Mr. Barker peered up at me from his desk. Do you have your essay?

Easier said than done.

Chapter Three- Hodgey

I feel it best to preface this with an important disclaimer. Though I am sure most already know all I am about to relate, I occasionally find that however obvious a fact might seem there is going to be someone who misses it. I hope to avoid any and all confusion by just restating, up front, that I am a dog.

I am small. I have floppy white ears and curly white fur. I have been described as fluffy on multiple occasions. Also adorable, cute, and get-that-stupid-mutt-out-of-my-yard.

(That last one was more of a nickname).

So, with all this said and said again, I can safely state: As the stars lit my path through the forest underbrush, I wasn't feeling like a very good dog.

Ahead of me, John carved our path, loud and clumsy as ever. He was babbling, as per usual, and I was tuning in and out as it suited me. ...and Sara still says that it's my fault, but I'm pretty sure that if she had listened to me in the first place, none of this would have happened, he droned, turning back to me as if he genuinely thought I cared.

So, Hodgey. He furrowed his brow, lost in thought. What do you think?

What did I think?

That I was a horrible person for lying to Violet. That I was selfish to want to go see the Valley, again and again, every time John went. That I wished I could do something, anything, to help Violet feel more like herself. That the material they had started using for dog toys was ridiculously abrasive, and somebody should write a very stern letter to the CEO of HugsPrint demanding they reevaluate their current quality control.

I think... I murmured, my voice still rough from the unnatural vowels of English. I think you have put a lot of thought into whether a lawn mower or a motorcycle is better for the zombie apocalypse.

I mean, maybe. John shrugged dubiously, pushing another large branch out of his way. But it's one of those questions, you know? The kind that keep you up at night.

I grunted in a very noncommittal way, unsure how to respond, and scrambled over a log which stood in my way. We emerged from the forest, having reached the riverside. The same riverside where a mysterious rowboat, then John himself, had breached the space between worlds, leaving it open for further use. By John, at least.

Well, not just John. As we reached the river, he knelt near a hollow log and pulled a couple of small, smooth stones from its interior. They were marked with the same nonsensical runes which dotted John's hands. The same ones which I was used to seeing Ruby scribble on everything. Sometimes, if he felt up to it, John could walk between worlds by himself. But most of the time, he had to provide some support. And frankly, I preferred it that way. Jumping through worlds with just John had never felt one hundred percent safe.

To be completely honest, John and I didn't really get along. I found him impulsive and reckless. He found me judgmental and, well... small. We certainly disagreed over Violet a lot of the time. But over the past few months, we had come to a certain understanding. A fragile, tedious, understanding, but an understanding nonetheless.

As I watched, crouching on my haunches, John finished setting up his circle, arranging it so it was partially submerged in the water. Okay, so, he mused, rubbing his hands together. I think we're all set.

Good, I said shortly, carefully stepping over the stones and toward John's feet. As I squirmed, he reached down and picked me up. I licked my lips, trying to hide my frustration. This wasn't terribly comfortable for any of us.

I'd tell you to hold on, but... John jerked his head toward my paws.

If I could've, I would've rolled my eyes. Yes, yes, I have no fingers. Your wit knows no limit.

Hey, first of all-- John opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again. You know what? I don't care. I'm the bigger person. Literally. Okay, focusing now. Focusing. Focusing.

I was just wondering whether talking incessantly actually helped him focus or if it was just an unfortunate quirk when the world blurred, and we started to fall through space. For a moment, we were at breakneck speed. For just a second, the sounds of the forest were replaced by the murmurs of something else. And in that void, I smelled something new on John.

Fear.

A shiver arced down from my ears to my tail, but before I could react further I was face first in wet grass. Suddenly, sound had returned. The scent of oil and smoke had been replaced by the sweet soil of the Valley.

John hadn't quite stuck the landing, but we were in the Valley. Hooray.

With a little bit of effort, I pulled my head from the earth and shook it a bit to clear the dirt. I blinked, taken aback by the sudden light. I heard a groan from John somewhere to my right. I didn't smell blood on him, so he must've been lucky enough not to teleport onto a sharp object. Slowly, my vision cleared, and the fuzzy outlines of a few curious deer came into view. Framing them was the dense forest I had come to expect from the central Valley.

Hey, uh, John got to his feet, dusting off his shorts as he addressed the strangers. We close to the Echo Caves?

One of the deer whispered something in an unfamiliar tongue to the other, before looking up at us with some amusement. Before they could say anything, a familiar voice sounded from close by.

John? Hodgey? Oak galloped into view, grinning at us jubilantly. You made it!

Yeah, thanks for laying out the stone circle for us.