Realm: The Adventures of Lily Monroe: The Realm Saga

By Jessica Cantwell

A QUEST THAT WILL IGNITE THE SOUL

 

Lily Monroe didn't intend on breaking the law. Her troublesome ways began the day a mysterious shapeshifter pulled her through a portal into Realm, Earth's alternate dimension. A land full of mythological creatures and humans with supernatural powers. At first, Lily yearned to go back home, a place comfortable yet intolerable all the same. But she changed her mind the moment she fell into the company of a copper-haired centaur named Blaze.

 

A dreamy girl, Lily longed for adventure that seemed to be just out of her reach. All of that changes the second Lily finds herself in Realm. She discovers this world is home to family she never knew existed, that her father is trapped and her brother, Dmitry, needs her assistance in order to free him. Hesitantly, Lily agrees to help and sets off on a journey full of booby-trapped tasks that are more daring than she had wished for.

 

Befriended by her brother's team, Lily realizes she must trust them and their assortment of powers, while learning how to control her own, in order to survive. Between establishing new friendships to battling legendary beasts, Lily starts to feel a sense of belonging. Unfortunately, her happily-ever-after is cut short the second they free her father.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jessica Cantwell
• Release date: May 21, 2023
• ISBN: 9798986010939

Jessica Cantwell

Jessica lives with her family and cats in a charming seaside town on the eastern end of Long Island. When she isn’t writing, you can find her reading, yard sale rummaging, drawing, painting, or refinishing furniture. Jessica has a passion for baking (eating everything she bakes) and travel. You may find her biting bitterballen in Amsterdam, popping pirogues in Poland, or munching on meat pies in London! Multiple Sclerosis may slow her down, but it will never stop her from living her best life.

Book preview

Chapter One

Reunion

Dmitry:

We have finally come face to face. In the last twenty years, this is the first time he has been reassured of my existence. This is my fourth attempt to free him, and after four long years, my sacrifice today was not good enough. Not while another exists.

It comes as a shock to both of us. He is overjoyed with the news. I am more than enraged, a feeling I did not envision for our reunion.

He tells me of the events before his disappearance. What little he remembers. I listen carefully, trying with all my might to be civil when all I feel is betrayed. And when his story is finished, I leave unsuccessful once more. I know I have no choice. I will have to hunt this other one down and spill her blood in the name of freedom.

Chapter Two

Revitalize

Lily:

Baltimore a k a Body-more. A city having one of the highest crime indexes in the United States. It has the third-highest homicide rate of all cities, with a population of two hundred and fifty thousand or more. That is six times the national rate.

Day after day, I puzzle over what it would be like to be here one minute, then gone the next. Vanish from society. Don't get me wrong, I'm not morbid, and I certainly don't want to die. I do, however, fantasize about disappearing more often than not. I wish someone would take me to another world far better than this one.

In my mind, the best scenario in this life, my life, would be to finally find someone. Someone that isn't afraid to hold my hand, to love me. We marry, buy a house and start a family. Money gets tight, and then we struggle to exist. Then again, all I seem to be doing lately is struggling to exist.

My skepticism keeps me from believing anything remotely magical could happen to me, and I do what Lily Monroe does best. I start to slide down the rabbit hole! Cross over to the dark side, assuming my worst-case scenario is that one ill-fated day I am caught off guard in the middle of one of these alleys and become just another statistic.

But you see, I can't avoid these streets. I live with my grandfather, Mac, in a place called Butcher's Hill, once known for its large population of butchers and poultry preparers. The irony of the situation is that long before it was a cool dieting fad, my family has always been on the raw foods diet. Meat is not, nor will it ever be, allowed in the house.

Sweets or any kind of junk food is unheard of. Hell, it took almost a PowerPoint presentation for me to introduce pasta and rice. Today is Saturday, so Mac was already off on another one of his long strolls by the time I rolled out of bed. He loves the great outdoors. Not in a good ole boy fishing or hunting way. No, he just walks. Walk, walk, walk. Which means I am expected to walk, walk, walk. Sometimes he walks all day without reason. Something in the air draws him to Patterson Park as if it were his home away from home.

So, as always, my plan is to avoid the park like the plague! I look down at my red sneakers and inhale. I don't know exactly what it is about them. Maybe it's their color, so vibrant, so alive, or perhaps it's how comfortable I feel when wearing them. Sadly, the feeling I get from putting them on is a high point in my day, like warm laundry from the dryer or a nice hot shower. Either way, I thank God for having them then roll my eyes at how utterly ridiculous I have become.

My stomach grumbles, reminding me that I have been neglecting it. There was nothing but vegetables at home, and chomping on raw spinach is certainly not going to silence the hormonal beast within. An imbalance not only due to the monthly visitor that's about to pack up and leave but also due to the fact that I am now nineteen. Nineteen, alone and starting to have needs. Womanly needs. Oh, I need food and fast. The greasier, the better, which brings me back to my shoes. They help take me exactly where I want to go. Today that would be to the burger joint en route to work a few miles away.

The ninety-degree heat of this summer day frizzing up my hair and causing unsightly pit stains on my heather grey t-shirt has just amplified my frustration. How am I supposed to get a man looking like this?

I cross over Orleans Street without a second glance while humming my own rendition of Nancy Sinatra's These Boots (ahem, sneakers) Are Made for Walking. Just a few more blocks to go. Before I know it, I'm at a full trot pushing an elderly woman in front of me aside to gain access to the restaurant a millisecond faster.

When I get to the counter and blurt out my order, I temporarily feel bad. Gazing around me, I notice the old woman still shuffling up the walkway. My food is in hand before she has even reached for the door, and I take it back. Being selfish is exactly what I need right now.

Still, being the emotional mess that I am, guilt kicks in, and I graciously hold the door for her to enter. It takes long enough for me to one-handedly open my burger and shove it into my mouth.

Thank you, dearie, the old woman says.

Mmm, hmm, I grumble back. Dearie, how cute, I think to myself.

I chew for about three seconds before trying to swallow. It takes some effort, but I eventually push the rock-size mass of meat and bun down my esophagus. I feel the warm grease drizzle down the inside of my chest, warming the pathway to my stomach, and instantly feel better. This six-hundred and seventy calorie delight is by far the best pacifier. And if it doesn't kill me, Mac certainly will if he ever finds out I ate it!

It takes me about thirty minutes to walk to work each day. I arrive at Revitalize, a psychology rehabilitation center across from Johns Hopkins Hospital, right on schedule.

My mother opened this center in 1994. After giving birth to me, she felt inspired to do more than work at the hospital's psychiatric ward, which prompted her to drain her bank account and lay all her cards down on this building. With a bit of help from my grandparents, she could renovate it into a treatment facility and home for those who felt they needed more than outpatient care and less than being institutionalized.

My mother had a gift to get inside a person's soul. She could feel what they felt, hear what they were trying to say before they even said it. She was a master at her craft. And believe me, it takes a saint to do this work. We get it all. All types of addiction, depression, schizophrenia, et cetera, et cetera. There are a whole lot of issues out there. Revitalize continually has a full house, so my mother's gamble paid off in the long run.

When I walk inside, I am greeted by the pleasant décor. The aroma of fresh lavender hangs in the air. I take a deep breath in and feel, well ... revitalized! I love everything in this room, from the soothing lilac paint to the vintage furniture and knickknack yard sale finds. Combining these items and assembling them in such a way that allows them to change a person's disposition is pure genius. You ask anyone that has entered our facility, and they will tell you this is the most relaxing place in Baltimore.

I pass my favorite leopard print chair in the sitting room and enter the office door. There, with her black hair pulled tightly into a bun, is Gail. Her posture is perfect as she sits waiting for me to enter. As always, her coat, shawl, or cardigan is wrapped around her, and her bag is over her shoulder. Today she patiently sits, staring at the clock, wrapped in a beige Pashmina scarf. Every time I enter the room, she stands, tidies whatever she is wearing, and exits the office with her nose in the air. Today is no different.

Gail has been here since the center opened in 1994, and all I know about her is her name. Have a good day, Lily, her soprano voice sings through the air.

You too, Gail, I respond and plop down into the chair. My tush molds into the warm indentation. Thinking about Gail, I can't remember a day when she has said more to me than just that. My mind wanders as I watch her exit the building and pristinely walk down the street. She reminds me of a Doberman Pinscher competing in a dog show, which I understand could be considered offensive, but I find that is the easiest, most accurate way to describe her. She's very tall, svelte, tan, and has a no-nonsense disposition. The comparison is uncanny.

I sigh and look at the clock. Ten minutes after eleven. Only seven hours and fifty minutes to go. Any minute Sonny will turn the corner with a nice hot cup of coffee for me and say something guaranteed to perk me up. She is the light in my life and my only friend. Twelve years my senior and the yin to my yang, I still cannot figure out what has pulled us together.

I met Crimson Sonny Connolly four years ago when she applied for a position here at Revitalize. We instantly hit it off. Like myself, she lives in Butcher Hill with her family. She has two sisters, Ruby and Scarlett, and a brother named Red. So, in short, all the children in the family are Red Connolly's. What is even funnier is the fact that Sonny's father is Irish and her mother is Chinese. Not one of the Connolly children has red hair or a freckled face. All four take after their mother and look more Mandarin than orange.

Right on cue, Sonny whisks through the office door.

Hey, I chirp, greeting her with a large smile.

Sup, she grumbles rather dryly, then darts past my desk and over to the filing cabinet with her long patchwork peasant skirt swirling in the breeze. I watch her pull open the cabinet and hastily rifle through its contents before removing a large manila folder.

You okay? I ask.

Mmm, hmm, why do you ask?

No coffee, smile, or random chitchat, I say to myself, but respond with a, No reason.

Sonny buries her nose in the file. Maybe we're out of coffee? Perhaps a new admission arrived this morning when I wasn't here, which is tying her up? Maybe she's mad at me? My thoughts are starting to circle the drain when, luckily, they are interrupted by our orderly, Curtis, who shuffles to the entrance of the office and pushes all two hundred and fifty pounds of himself through the doorway. Slightly out of breath, he takes a moment before saying, Lily, you're wanted in suite three.

The statement doesn't come as a shock. It's like clockwork:

Enter Lily, exit Gail.

Enter Sonny with coffee.

Chit, chat, gossip.

Enter Curtis.

Lily visits the patient in suite three, and the rest is all hamster on a wheel.

How is it, Curtis? I ask. Again, routine. I already know the answer.

Not good, he responds while shaking his head.

Thanks for the heads up.

As I stand, Sonny's raspy voice awkwardly rings out from across the room. Lily?

Is that a question or a statement? I think to myself. This morning's change in our routine has me slightly agitated, and before I know it, I've snapped back with a snide, What?

Nothing, we'll talk later, she responds with a slight smile. I can't help but feel bad about my shortness when I look at her face. Any other day she would say something funny to take the edge off, and I would have my morning back, but today she sticks her nose back into the file.

I stand and exit the office, ready to put this moment behind me. Curtis slowly follows. His shuffling feet play a soft melody as we turn the corner and head for the stairs. Usually, I would be a good ten paces ahead of him, but right now, I just can't manage to pull myself along any faster. Curtis gently places his hand against the small of my back as we climb the stairs, and I'm grateful for the support, both mentally and physically. He keeps his hand in place as we walk down the hall to the door of suite three, where we both stop. The warmth of his touch soothes me as I hesitate to open the door.

I feel a slight push and pull on my body. Before I know it, Curtis has pulled me into his arms and is giving me one of his big bear hugs. Thought you could use that, he whispers.

Thank you, I mutter as I pull away.

I'll be right here waiting if you need anything, he adds. I nod before turning the brass knob.

When I enter the room, I see its occupant sitting in a vintage armless chair upholstered in a cornflower blue floral pattern that matches the color of the walls. As she peers out the window, I notice that the gold tendrils framing her face are drenched with sweat. The bulk of her waist-length hair is pulled into a loose braid with a tail of spiral curls, which tumble down her left shoulder.

I watch her tug at the split ends with both hands. It's something she does when she is nervous or anxious. The sound of the door shutting behind me startles her, and she looks at me with alarmed eyes. Oh Lily, thank God you're here!

Orvah, what's wrong? I ask.

You, you're in danger!

Really? How so? I question while sitting down on the queen-size bed. Its coverlet is a lovely soft sage green paisley print which accents the blue walls perfectly. Rubbing my hand over it, I can't help but think about the ocean's surf, as rough and tumble or clear and calm as Orvah, herself. Quickly I return my attention to Orvah, who is getting more anxious by the minute. She begins to fidget, moving her hands from her cascading locks to the wood table. Her short thumbnail begins to scratch at the already damaged surface.

Maybe we should do some of your exercises, I suggest.

I don't want to do exercises, Lily.

Orvah, please, you're obviously upset about something. It might help clear your mind.

She looks back to the window and begins to tug at her hair once more.

It's such a beautiful day. Why don't you go down to the patio, walk around the gardens? I ask.

No! She shakes her head then presses her hand up against her forehead. My head hurts, she says through clenched teeth. Then, BAM! Her hand slams down onto the table, and I jump to my feet. I take two brisk strides over to Orvah, snatch her hands up into my own and look into her sun-kissed face. The freckles on her nose are sprinkled with sweaty dew, another side effect of her anxiety. I gaze into her black eyes and sigh, giving in to the monster.

Okay, Orvah, I'm listening. Why am I in trouble?

She looks down at the table and begins to stutter.

It's a man - maybe two. They .... She pauses for a brief moment. I watch intently as her face changes from panicked to angry. Without warning, she screams at the top of her lungs, I know you think I'm crazy!

No, no, I don't, I assure her.

Don't lie to me. I know what you're thinking. I know when you're lying.

I'm not lying to you. Look at me - I'm here, I'm listening. Maybe you should have something to eat. Raising your blood sugar will make you feel better.

Not all problems can be solved with food, Lily.

Ouch! That one was below the belt, I think to myself. Defeated, I remove my hands from hers.

I came here to help, but you clearly don't want it. I don't know what it is you want from me anymore. With that, I turn and stroll back toward the door.

Don't go, she calls. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you. It won't happen again.

You say that every time, Orvah.

Lily, her voice pleads. She knows I can't ignore her when she calls on me like this. I stop mid-track and stare at the closed door before me, wanting nothing more than to grab for it. Flee from this room, this building, my life. But I can't. Not with her tugging at me like this.

I take a moment to breathe, calming myself as much as possible. Then reluctantly, I respond, Yes, Mother?

Chapter Three

Voices

Lily:

Orvah remains quiet, forcing me to turn around. She stands there at the foot of the bed, bewildered. Her body is so small and frail. The sight of her makes me suffer an overwhelming bout of distress. I can't help but feel heavy-hearted.

I hear their voices, you know, she whispers.

I know you do, Mom. Trying to be strong, my voice is but a whisper.

I'm worried about you, that's all.

I'm right here. What do you think is going to happen?

I, I'm not so sure. I can't figure it out.

You don't have to.

Yes, yes I do. If I can figure it out, I'll know how to keep you safe.

Why don't you come downstairs and keep an eye on me? I offer.

I can't. The voices, they're everywhere today. This man – men, it's too much.

I walk back to her and throw my arms around her delicate frame. My squeeze is barely the bear hug Curtis can give but I hope it puts her mind at ease. What else can I do? I ask.

Stay safe, she responds.

Yes, Mother.

She holds me at arms' length before adding, Promise?

Cross my heart.

My mother begins to sob. Watching the dewdrops roll down her cheeks, I know I have to get out of here before I fall subject to her sadness. If it's one thing I know, I have to stay strong for the both of us. Crying in front of her will only make things worse. Orvah will begin to feel bad about her condition or think that she is scaring me with this latest bit of news, which she is not. Honestly, the only thing that scares me is to see her suffering.

I have to go back to work now.

I know.

I'll be in the same building, right downstairs. Completely safe.

Okay.

No matter her response, I still have to pry myself out of her arms to get to the door. I decide to reassure her once more before I exit. I'll stop in to check on you a few times. Then you will know I'm okay.

She nods her head before responding. And if I have any more information, I'll let you know, okay?

Great idea, I whisper while shutting the door as gently as possible.

As promised, Curtis is still standing there. I look up at him and try my best to form a smile. I know by his actions that he can read me like a book. Instead of patting me on the shoulder or asking if I'm okay, he simply opens the door to suite three and enters, knowing any inquiry would put me right over the edge. I bite my lower lip and stifle my tears as I make my way back down to my desk.

You see, my mother was an intellectual with an amazing gift. She had an understanding of how to get into a person's mind and mend it. But, unfortunately, somewhere along the way, she lost her own. Ever since my grandmother died seven years ago, my mother's mental health has been suffering. Plagued with hearing voices, she finally admitted herself to her own center as a patient four years ago.

Sonny was her replacement. Perhaps in some small way, that is why I gravitated to her. I stop and wonder if maybe I am trying to build a mother-daughter relationship with Sonny. Can't be, I think to myself. There is no way. I can tell Sonny anything, which alone is something I cannot do with Mom. We talk about life, boys, and sex. I am really able to open up to her. When I finally got the nerve to ask questions about Mom, Sonny made me feel so comfortable.

Ah, don't worry, Lily, all psychologists are crazy, she would joke, or It's good she hears voices, that way she'll never be alone. I eventually learned no one is perfect. My mother's condition is nothing to be ashamed of, afraid of, or anything to blame myself for. I needed to lighten up and accept Mom for who she is, which is easier said than done.

In the beginning, I would walk to Revitalize from school every day and stay until dark. Mac would have to walk down and carry me home kicking and screaming because I wouldn't leave without her. It took a year for me to adjust, yet I remained relentless with my visitations. Finally, Marjorie in the Human Resources Department offered me an administrative position figuring I might as well get paid while I sat here. I accepted for two reasons. One was to stay close to my mother. The second reason was that I didn't know what else to do with myself.

After graduation, most of the kids from school went off to college. I just don't see the point when I'm not sure what I want to be. Nothing sounds good