Alfheim: The Curse of Nidavellir

By John Stoeter

Twenty years after his sister's mysterious disappearance, detective Michael Leitner finds himself on a hauntingly similar case. This time his cousin, Peter, has gone missing. When Emma, Peter's mother, suggests that both disappearances are related to supernatural activity, Michael dismisses it.

Detectives don't believe in fairy

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Stoeter
• Release date: Sep 16, 2021
• ISBN: 9781736849910

John Stoeter

John Stoeter is an American author, born and raised in Florida with ties to Pensacola and Orlando. His debut novel, Alfheim: The Curse of Nidavellir, is the first of the trilogy. John spent years screenwriting and making music before transitioning into a novelist. His love for words led to the creation of Alfheim. He is married with two kids, and in his spare time, he enjoys the beach, sports, and a good old-fashioned buzz in a peaceful and quiet environment.

Book preview

Chapter One: The World Tree

Michael sat in his car for what felt like an eternity. While the world around him was quiet, his mind grew increasingly loud. The asphyxiating silence that drummed inside his ears intensified with each passing second, ringing like sirens in the precipice of war. Irritating as it was, the sound was welcoming because it created the smallest of distractions, quelling him of the guilt and anxiety that coiled inside him.

He sat there waiting, waiting for himself to find the courage to exit his car and ring the doorbell before him, but his mind raced with thoughts of procrastination instead. He could always come back tomorrow, he thought. Perhaps that would be better. Maybe by then, they would finally have a lead worthy of investigation, but who was he kidding?

His cousin, Peter, had already been missing for two days. After forty-eight hours and no leads, Michael’s hopes of finding him were dwindling. His entire body shuddered at the idea of this case turning from a missing person investigation into that of a dead body case. His heart plunged to the pit of his stomach, leaving him with that sinking feeling that could only be attributed to overwhelming grief and heartbreak. That feeling where somehow your gut knew the inevitable, harrowing truths that your mind couldn’t bear to formulate.

It couldn’t happen again, not like this, he pleaded. Whom he was begging to, he didn’t know anymore. He just knew that his family didn’t deserve to go through this a second time. Twenty years prior, his sister, Skye, had been involved in a missing person’s case. They never found her, and that still haunted him every day of his life.

His innocence had been stripped from him at six years old, leaving him a broken mess. The adoring belief that he shared in Santa, the exuberant joy of Christmas, and the exhilaration he would experience from a tooth fairy visit all marred and destroyed. The world had shown its sharp teeth and scathing claws early on, never letting go of its clutches, shackling him to a lifetime of debilitating fear and self-doubt.

The latest kidnapping only filled him with more trauma. He couldn’t bear the toll of another missing child on his conscience. He vowed to his cousin, Emma, that he would bring her son back home. He couldn’t fail her. Not like he did his sister. Granted, he was only six then, but that didn’t stop the never-ending remorse that harbored inside him, nor did it stop the eternal blame his mother had bestowed upon him all these years.

This case meant a lot to him for a multitude of reasons. The obvious being that Peter was family, but deep down, in the depths of Michael’s heart, this case represented an opportunity for redemption. No matter how hard he tried to suppress those dark emotions, they returned with a vengeance every time. He couldn’t help but think that finding Peter would heal the aches of his past, exercising any remaining demons that still inhabited him. A means to a new beginning, he hoped.

Provoked by his thoughts, he failed to realize the death grip he had secured on the steering wheel or the incessant tapping of his left foot. This case had consumed him, enrapturing him entirely. Since Peter’s disappearance, he’d maybe gotten four or five hours of sleep. His mind and body were on the brink of exhaustion, operating on fumes and desperation.

Regardless, he’d sat in his car long enough. He found his conviction and filed his way towards Emma’s doorstep. From the outside, he could hear her newborn wailing tirelessly. He took a deep cleansing breath and knocked on the glass-paneled door, skipping the doorbell for fear of disturbing his little cousin more.

His sloppy, unappealing reflection glared off the glass, staring back at him, doing him absolutely no justice. His hair poked and flared in every which direction, looking as if it hadn’t been combed in days, which was sadly accurate. Its frazzled form resembled that of Doc Brown’s from Back to the Future, only his was jet-black rather than an aging white.

His facial hair was untrimmed and stubbly, growing too quick to keep manicured to perfection but too patchy to ever develop a full beard. His eyes were puffy, filled with blotchy purplish bags underneath.

To make matters worse, he was feverishly pale at the moment as well. It wasn’t the type of pale that occurred naturally from genetics; instead, it was locked in your bedroom and avoid sunlight kind of pale. His complexion resembled that of a harsh winter, yet he was currently entrenched in the dog days of summer. It was the hottest summer in recorded history, and he still managed to look like the heir to Dracula’s throne.

Typically, he was a strapping looking gentleman, handsome, but in a cute, he’s just a friend kind of way. A non-threatening, puppy dog kind of cute was the phrase used to describe him many years ago when that kind of thing mattered to him. With proper confidence, he was attractive enough to stand out in a crowd, but that over-the-top kind of charisma was something that he lacked, and it showed.

His sulked stature and demeanor mostly went unnoticed, and for the most part, that was to his liking. Attention scared him just as much as failure, and he feared failure more than life itself. It wasn’t so much failure that he feared but more so the resounding and disabling fear that he would let down the people closest to him.

You couldn’t fail if no one was around to see it, he always told himself. So, he did his best to hide his passions, therefore, hiding the shortcomings that seemingly came with them. That’s why he avoided the spotlight; if there weren’t any expectations set upon him, then he couldn’t possibly let anyone down, but all eyes were on him now. He would either be the hero that delivered Peter home to safety or the one who failed to find him.

After a lengthy wait, Emma arrived at the door to greet Michael, interrupting his one-on-one therapy session with himself. With her disgruntled newborn in one hand, Emma gave Michael a brief side armed hug with her free hand and invited him inside.

Remarkably, Emma trounced him in his stand-alone beauty pageant. To put it nicely, she looked awful. She lacked sleep desperately, far worse than Michael. The bags under her eyes were double the size of his. Both her eyes and nose were red and puffy from all the crying she’d been doing. Her clothes reeked of baby spit-up and body odor, leaving Michael to wonder when the last time she had showered.

Michael felt terrible for her. He wanted more than anything to help. He wished he had come here with a sliver of hope to provide her with. Instead, he regretted showing up at all. Regretted knocking on the door and bothering her already tiresome day. He felt shame and anguish but mostly just disappointment that he would only be letting her down once more.

Have you slept at all recently? Michael asked timidly, tiptoeing around the inevitable nervous breakdown combusting inside her.

An hour, said Emma. Maybe two. She paused. Her mouth opened, and Michael’s heart fluttered at the question that would inevitably come next, but Emma closed it at the startling screams from the twins.

From the other room, Michael heard the persistent banging and yelling from Will and Cam. The two were always fighting and wrestling, performing whatever new acrobatic moves they could think of from the top of their bunk bed. Flips and jumps that gave their poor mother mini heart attacks every time, and no matter how many times she begged them to stop, they always went back to leaping off the bed the next day.

Emma placed her youngest in the bassinet with her pacifier to coax her to sleep. She rubbed her face softly, singing lightly until she soothed her into a deep sleep. Emma made her way over to the dining room table and gripped her coffee mug tightly. It rattled and shook in her hands subtly, either from stress or jitters, probably both thought Michael.

Are there any leads? she asked. I mean anything. Anything that can lead me back to my baby? Her body chock-full of anxiety as she rocked anxiously in her chair, staring through him for answers.

It was excruciating to watch, even more so that he couldn’t do anything to help her find the solace that she desired. None that lead anywhere, said Michael, the guilt oozing out of his mouth and into his voice. Not yet, at least, but we’re working tirelessly. We’re going to find him, Emma. It’s only a matter of time until something pops up.

Emma didn’t respond. Her dejected gaze said it all. Her eyes shifted from Michael to her coffee mug, straining tightly to hold in her tears.

You’re positive you had your eyes on them at all times? asked Michael. I only ask because something’s not adding up. Your timeline and the kid’s timeline don’t match . . . I understand if time slipped away from you. Your hands are clearly full, he said, motioning to the haphazard mess dispersed across the living room. I want you to know that no one is blaming you, Emma. None of this is your fault. Michael chose his words carefully, ensuring that they were delivered gently, but Emma thought otherwise.

Her body shifted defensively, as did her tone. I know it’s not my fault, barked Emma, her stare firm and unrelenting. And I only left them out of eyesight for a minute, maybe two. The amount of time it takes to do a diaper change and by the time I came back, she said, struggling to find the words.

Her gaze set deep into her coffee mug as if it were a crystal ball that held the whereabouts of Peter’s location. By the time I came back, he was gone, Michael. It’s just like Skye’s disappearance . . . which leads me to this, she said, shifting through the unorganized stack of papers that scattered across her tabletop. I’ve been doing some research . . . on fairies.

On fairies? Michael stammered, unsure of whether or not he had heard her correctly, knowing damn well that he had. He just needed the confirmation of hearing her say it once more. That would allow him the ample time needed to wrap his head around the outlandish statement.

It didn’t start with fairies, but you know how the internet is. One thing led to another, and ultimately, I landed on fairies. I know how crazy it sounds, and I don’t expect you to believe me but hear me out, said Emma filing through her research in a frenzied manner.

Michael stared at her blankly, incredulously even. It made sense for her to resort to fairy tales when reality was unable to provide the answers that she coveted. It was why people resorted to the bible or God in times of desperation. However, God was understandable and relatable, but fairies, that was a first, even for him, and he had been assigned to some looney cases over the years.

I take it you came across the reptilian race that secretly rules the world as well? Michael joked to no avail. I’m all ears, he said, quickly changing his tone to match the seriousness of Emma’s. Do continue.

The kids say they visited an abandoned kingdom, said Emma. Now we both know that that’s impossible.

Clearly, said Michael, waiting patiently for whatever point it was that she was trying to sell.

"It’s impossible because I was only gone for the length of a diaper change. They couldn’t have possibly seen a kingdom and come back in the span of a minute or two. Which leads me to fairies. One thing that’s commonplace in fairy abductions is lost time. The castles. The kingdoms. The lost time.

I think we’re looking at something supernatural here. That would explain why we haven’t been able to find any leads, and it’s precisely why they were never able to find Skye either, Michael. It’s the only explanation that links Peter’s and Skye’s disappearances together. Think about it. It’s all right here, she said, handing him some pages that had been printed from a website created during the dial-up stage of internet access.

The fairies, she exclaimed, almost excitedly. They take these kids, their abductees, to a place called Faerieland. Will and Cam, they visited Faerieland. WE visited Faerieland! That day, twenty years ago, the day that Skye disappeared, that’s what happened. That’s where Peter is now. I’m sure of it.

Michael paused hesitantly, his brain churning like old machinery, trying to find the most efficient and formulaic response least likely to upset her. What the hell does someone say back to something like that, he thought. She had clearly lost it. There obviously wasn’t an ounce of validity to any of her claims, but he couldn’t come right out and say that.

He bit the inside of his cheeks, restraining himself from blurting out the first thing that came to mind. His brain faltered as it attempted to string together the words that would eloquently let her down. If it makes you feel better, I’ll take your research and look it over tonight . . . But I’m going to need more than your certainty and belief in fairies if I’m supposed to present this evidence—and I say that loosely—to the others at the precinct.

You don’t present it to the others, Emma countered. Not yet, at least. We can investigate it together. I’ll go out with you to the woods. Just like old times . . . like when we were kids looking for Skye.

Absolutely not. You’re in no condition to journey out there. There’s not a chance in hell that I’m escorting you into the woods, Emma. Are you crazy?

Please . . . I need you to do this for me, she said, grasping his hand and cupping it tenderly. Please, Michael.

For a moment, he entertained it. If it made her feel better, he didn’t see the harm in a quick surveillance of the area, but he’d rather not breathe life into the all too real fairy tale festooning inside of her. Emma, listen. I understand things are tough, but—

No, no, you don’t! You don’t have kids, Michael. You have absolutely no idea what I’m going through right now. You couldn’t possibly know. So please don’t sugarcoat me with this I know things are tough bullshit.

You’re right. I don’t know. I don’t have kids, and I can’t possibly know how you’re feeling right now. It was selfish of me to insinuate such a thing but what I do know is that we didn’t get taken to fairyland twenty years ago, and neither did Peter. There’s a reasonable explanation to all of this, one that probably includes a sick monster of a man that lurks out there in those woods, and I assure you I’m going to find him.

It was as if Emma had blanked out and ignored everything Michael had said, that or she was unwilling to believe him. You really don’t remember the castle? We saw it. Me, you, Reed, and Skye. We saw it, Michael.

I remember . . . I remember being kids, and I remember a shady man leading us into the woods. We came back . . . and Skye didn’t. That’s what I remember.

That’s such bullshit, and you know it. For once in your life, can’t you just suspend your disbelief? Why is it so hard for you to admit we saw a castle? We all remembered it up until you turned sixteen, and then I guess it wasn’t cool to believe in castles anymore.

Because there was never a castle to begin with, Michael fired back, raising his voice to match hers. Some people actually have to grow up and stop believing in fairy tales. You know why? Because they’re fake, that’s why. Skye was taken by some sex offending lunatic. I’m sorry if you’ve never come to terms with that. Now it’s my job to make sure the same thing doesn’t happen to Peter. It’s my job to bring him back, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do . . . We were kids, Michael replied softly. We made it up. We’re lucky we didn’t get taken as well.

Emma tightened her gaze apprehensively, the fire she once had dimmed to a mere flicker. The spark and will to continue arguing now gone and withered away. We saw a castle, Michael, she murmured as soft as a whisper. She sighed deeply and stared off into the distance as tears began to flood her eyes once more.

I’m sorry, said Michael, regathering his composure and grabbing her hand gently. I’m going to find Peter. I promise.

The baby cried softly, startled awake by their previous disagreement. Emma calmly rubbed her daughter’s belly, soothing her back to sleep. The loud thumping and banging that came from the twin’s room had ceased because of the commotion. The twins poked their heads out of their bedroom door to check on the turmoil.

Michael, they chanted in unison as they ran over to greet him with hugs.

Shh, said Emma, glaring at the twins. I just put her back down, she said quietly.

The pair looked identical; Michael couldn’t tell the twins apart unless he talked to them for a few minutes. Will had a higher squealed voice than Cam; that’s the only way he could distinguish any difference between the two. He had no idea how Emma did it.

Michael was too shocked by their growth spurt to try to differentiate them. Although he made a reasonable effort to see them every few weeks, they seemed to grow between his visits. Shit, he thought. They had to be edging up on eight or nine now by now. Michael silently counted the years in his head, proving that much to be true.

Are you gonna help us find our brother? asked the high and shrilly voice of Will.

I am, whispered Michael. But I’m going to need your guys’ help. Go on back to your room, and I’ll grab you in a little bit. Okay?

Yeah, the two of them squealed excitedly, jumping up and down. They stopped immediately after making eye contact with the hardened eyes of their mother. The boys took the hint and evacuated to their room quietly.

Emma stood over the bassinet, massaging the baby’s head gently. I’m gonna get some rest. She won’t be down for long.

Sounds good, said Michael. I’m going to take them outside and horseplay with them for a little while. If that’s okay? I feel like that will help with some of their restless energy.

That would be nice. They need the sunlight. I haven’t let them outside since . . . since it happened. As soon as you leave, bring them back inside and lock the doors, Emma said sternly. Please, she said, softening her tone.

You got it. I’ll do my best to try to stop by again tomorrow too.

Emma nodded her head and slumped off to her room to get some much-needed rest. Michael made his way to his cousins’ room to retrieve them. He opened the door to find Cam on the receiving end of a headlock, courtesy of his twin brother, Will. The two appeared to be really going at it before Michael intervened between them.

Settle down, cowboys, chimed Michael. How about we take a little stroll out back and retrace some of your steps?

Cam squirmed out of the headlock and pushed Will off of him. His face flushed red with frustration. He glared at Will and kicked at his shins before responding to Michael. Yeah, let’s go, he huffed and puffed between breaths.

After you guys, said Michael.

Michael followed them outside, hustling behind to keep up with their brisk pace. Cam brushed past Will, nudging him hard in the shoulder, proceeding to take the lead of the group. Cam leapfrogged over the small white picket fence that surrounded their backyard. Will quickly followed, emulating his brother. Everything had to be a competition with them. Somebody had to be the fastest, the strongest, the quickest, the smartest. It was never ending between them, and quite frankly, it was exhausting even in brief doses.

Instead of climbing and straddling the fence, Michael simply opened the gate. About twenty or so yards of unkempt grass stood between them and the woods, but it was nothing but forest after that. Cam and Will streaked through the grass, dead set on the forest ahead.

Aye, Michael shouted at them. Aye, get your little asses back here. Where do you think you’re going?

The boys turned around, enamored with sass and eye-rolls.

I thought we were searching for clues in the woods with you? asked Cam.

Yeah, that’s what you said, replied Will.

No, I said let’s go out back, said Michael. Not once did I mention the woods. I might go in there but not with you two little heathens.

Boo.

Yeah, no fair, said Cam. That’s lame.

You’re lame, said Michael sneeringly, knowing good and well how to play their devious games after years of practice. Now, where did you guys wander off to from here?

Through those trees, Will answered mockingly, pointing towards the vast abundance of trees that littered the area.

And what tree might that be? asked Michael, trying to keep the annoyance they caused from simmering across his face.

That one, said Cam, darting towards the wilderness with Will fleeing behind his footsteps.

Michael let out a long, over-exaggerated sigh but decided to save his breath rather than yell after them. They may have been disobedient little shits, but neither were actually stupid enough to defy him. As Michael predicted, the twins stopped in place, moving twigs and branches around, peering through the branchy veil, eyeing the forest intently.

Michael positioned himself in front of them, boxing them out with his much larger adult frame. Through here? he asked.

Yep, said Will.

And you’re sure it was this exact spot?

Yep.

How far did you go?

Not telling unless you take us with you, Will grinned.

Cam, how far until I reach this so-called kingdom?

What do I get if I tell you? questioned Cam.

I’ll let you punch that smug grin off your brother’s face, and I won’t tell your mom. How about that?

Cam thought it over decisively before shaking his head no. I do that all the time. Gonna have to be better than that.

Alright, I’ve had enough, said Michael. He let go of the branches and turned around. He walked back slowly through the scraggly grass, towards the white picket fence and the backyard of Emma’s, hoping that the twins were too naive to pick up on his bluff.

Okay, fine, sighed Will. The kingdom’s like five minutes away.

Try seven, said Cam. Can we go with you? he asked, turning to Michael for approval, inching his face close enough against him to annoy him.

No, said Michael. I’ll see that you two make it inside safely. Off you go, he said, shooing them away with his hand. Your work is done. Fantastic job, both of you. I’ll be sure to get you some of those sticker badges that we have in the office. The ones for little kids.

Please, Uncle Mike. We wanna help find our brother.

Michael studied the twins, unsure if their puppy eyes and grieved tones were sincere or an elaborate act contrived to fool him. The one thing that stood out most to him was their overzealous demeanor and willingness to revisit the place their brother had been abducted. They seemed to honestly believe in this kingdom. How much bullshit had Emma been feeding them? he thought. Fairyland, abandoned realms? None of it was real, of course, but Michael supposed that fairy tales were better than the grim reality of what had really happened to Peter.

Had the kids actually seen anything disturbing, their behavior would surely be the telltale sign, but here they stood, eager to explore once more. Michael used their cheerfulness as a symbol of hope. Maybe, just maybe, Peter had gotten lost. That was believable enough, but the faint glimmer of hope washed over him as Michael was reminded of the unsuccessful search and rescue teams that had detailed the perimeter the past forty-eight hours.

I know, said Michael, clearing his mind. I know you do, but you each have been more than enough help. When I find Peter, I’ll be sure to tell him it was because of your guys’ help. I promise.

The twins nodded their heads, neither saying a word, both sharing the same crestfallen expression.

Let me walk you guys back, said Michael.

Oh yeah, we forgot to tell you about the fork, said Will, throwing his hand to his head theatrically. He winked at Cam as if Michael would somehow miss the rather obvious gesture.

Uh-huh. A fork, I’m sure, said Michael, playing along in their game, no longer feeling the remorse he had shown moments before.

Yeah, yeah. A fork. A big one.

Which way did you go? Left or right? asked Michael, his patience wearing thinner.

Ahh, I can’t remember. Dang.

Michael turned to Cam for an answer.

Cam shrugged. I dunno. I guess you’ll have to take us and find out.

Looks like I’ll take both ways and find out myself, responded Michael. Now off you go. Bye.

Oooh, did you tell him about the bees? Cam asked Will.

Oh yeah, said Will. The bees. How could I forget? There’s a underground hive out there, so watch out for the bees. They’re everywhere.

Maybe cause they’re not real, said Michael. That’s how you forgot. I appreciate the help, Lewis and Clark. Now adios. I mean it.

Oh, and there’s a password to enter the kingdom.

Oh, my fu— uttered Michael behind clenched teeth. He closed his eyes and felt his lungs expand. His nostrils flared as he exhaled the deep breath held within him. He was at his wits’ end with the twins. Any patience that he had left dissipated two annoying comments ago. Five minutes, you said? That’s how long it takes to get there?

Yep, said Will. Five minutes, that’s it.

But it takes seven, Cam said quietly, nudging his brother.

Shh, no, it doesn’t, said Will, winking three times. Each successive wink looked more like a twitch rather than an act done voluntarily.

If I take you into the woods, will both of you shut up for ten minutes? asked Michael. Are either one of you capable of that?

We are, I promise. See, zip, said Will, squeezing his hand to his lips and acting out the motion of zipping them together.

Off we go, hollered Cam.

Michael gave him a darting glare. What part of zip it don’t you understand?

Sorry, whispered Cam, motioning his lips shut the same way that Will had.

After you, said Michael, gesturing them ahead of him. And not a word of this to your mother.

Michael placed his hand on his holster, toggling his gun. A mindless check to see if it was there, the same way he did with his keys or wallet. He severely doubted that he would need it, but he checked anyway.

It was against his better judgment to have them accompany him, and Michael knew that, but he was desperate for answers. Besides, they would only be gone for ten minutes, any longer, and he would risk Emma finding out, and the last place he wanted to be was on the receiving end of one of her thrashings.

Ten minutes is all it would take to debunk any future talks of fairies and magical kingdoms. Not to mention, Michael knew these woods like the back of his hand. In fact, he knew them so well he was confident the kids were full of shit regarding a fork, but nevertheless, that didn’t matter at the moment. All that mattered was that he could absolve the myth of fairies and maybe stumble upon some real clues along the way.

Emma resided at a different house than Michael’s childhood home, but the same set of woods connected the two. Michael would venture into these woods damn near every day during his adolescent years, hoping to find a clue of Skye’s whereabouts. Even if he knew the odds were slim, it never discouraged him from trying. He used to hold on to that sliver of hope that she still might be alive. He would clutch it tightly, grasping at it like straws because back then, hope was all that he had.

He had more than moved on from that waning hope that used to energize him. He was now closer to a high school reunion than he was high school itself. He couldn’t remember the exact moment it happened, but sometime long ago, he had come to terms that Skye was dead. Now he could only hope that a clue of Peter’s whereabouts would come at the hands of his two pesky, unrelenting cousins before he had to acknowledge that fate a second time.

So, what the hell were you guys doing back here anyways? questioned Michael, needing to hear a voice other than his own. Even if that voice came from one of his annoying cousins, it sure as hell beat the plaguing thoughts that absorbed him. I know your mother told you never to come back here, continued Michael. Am I right?

Michael had read the reports thoroughly. He studied them like he was preparing for the ACT. He’d even did some investigating of his own back here, but the one thing he hadn’t been able to do yet is pick the twins’ brains without the presence of other surrounding officers. He hoped that in doing so, he would discover a token of truth that they may have concealed from his colleagues.

Yeah, you’re right, said Cam sheepishly with his head sulked into his chest. We knew better than to be back here.

We did, said Will. But c’mon, Michael. We were soooo bored. Ever since the baby, we hadn’t done anything fun, so when Cam hit the ball into the woods, it seemed like fun to explore some. Ya know? It’d only be for a few minutes, we thought. So, I convinced Cam, and off we went. We didn’t even want Peter to come ’cause he’s such a baby, but he would’ve tattletaled on us, so we hadta bring him.

Uh-huh, I see, said Michael. And what happened next? When and where do you remember seeing Peter last?

We took this trail here— said Will.

Let me tell the story, said Cam, nudging his brother. We just followed this trail here. We didn’t think we’d be back here long but then like . . . like the whole forest changed or something. I dunno. I can’t explain it.

Wow, some story, said Will, rolling his eyes. I’m telling the stories from now on. That sucked.

Don’t say that word, lectured Michael.

What? Suck? What’s wrong with suck?

Just don’t say it. You know your mom doesn’t like you using that word. She has enough going on as it is, so stopping saying it, please.

Whatever, fine. Like Cam said, we were just in the woods about to go back, but then we saw this little beat-up brick trail, so we followed it. Took it all the way to that kingdom we told you about.

Their story made no logical sense, but Michael needed to pry what little answers he could from them even if they involved myths and fairy tales. They were the only eyewitnesses he had; for better or worse, Peter’s fate relied on their narration of the event, no matter how unbelievable.

Did you see anyone else in the forest? Michael asked. And what about the kingdom? Did you see anyone there?

Just us three, said