Year 1005 D.E.

  Deep within a dilapidated, jumbled city, sat a large three-story house with boarded-up windows and flaking paint. Mist rose from the puddles in the patchy front lawn. A rusting playset peeked out from the side yard, hardly visible through the overgrown slender wild oats. A small shed leaned awkwardly against the house, ready to fall if the wind blew too hard. The short chain-link fence circling the property drooped and sagged in many places, and the gate at the front walkway hung precariously by its top hinge.

  Keshiema stepped out of the horse-drawn carriage, her short-sleeved cotton pajamas doing little to protect her from the cold morning air. The sight of the sorry house gave her a gut-wrenching heartache. Keshiema looked up at the police officer standing beside her.

  "This is the orphanage where you will be staying." the officer answered the question in her eyes. "I don't know what the caretakers are like, and quite frankly, I don't really give a shit. I wish we could get the human kids out of there. But the demons, well, you all deserve anything you get. You shouldn't have come here in the first place."

  The five-year-old girl continued to stare at the officer without saying a single word. "Well, here you go." Handing her a manila envelope, he continued hurriedly, "these are your papers from your previous adoption as well as your original birth certificate. Give that to the caretakers. Or don't." he shrugged. "Either way, I'm out of here." he mounted his carriage and commanded the horse forward, leaving as fast as he could.

  Feeling more than slightly nervous, Keshiema carefully opened the rusted gate, walked up to the front door, and rang the bell. Half expecting the chime not to work, she jumped at the loud buzzing sound that answered. A man and woman yelled back and forth from within, their vulgar words causing her to flinch. A few moments later, a malnourished boy answered the door.

  Keshiema decided right away that she would get along with this boy. He did not ask her any questions, only speaking in statements and giving her the impression that he always thought about his words before speaking.

  "You think you won't like it here just from the way it looks outside. You're right. The caretakers are horrible. Don't let them know you feel that way. More importantly, don't let them know anyone else feels that way. Your goal is going to be getting out of here. We all stick together. That is the only way any of us survive. Not all of us do survive to adoption. I'll handle your papers for you. I'm the oldest one here right now. If you have any problems at all, come to me and no one else. Mind your manners around the caretakers, Fat Chu and Big May, and let them think you fear them, even if you don't." He talked almost as fast as he walked, taking her up one flight of stairs and down a large hallway.

  "And whatever you do, don't let them see you cry." He stopped at one of the many doors. "Ever." he said the word with such fire in his eyes, she felt that he knew what he did from first-hand experience. "This'll be your room. It's also my room, and we'll be sharing it with my sister, Mia. She's about your age. Maybe you two can be friends." He opened the door and sat on one of the two beds that sat next to each other. Keshiema took a seat on a third bed that sat across the room under a large window. "I'm seven. There are older kids, but they're out farming right now. The youngest one here is three, but he probably won't be here long. The younger ones go fast. I guess when people get damaged goods, they’re still looking for the least worn down. He's also a demon, which helps his case a lot."

  A long, awkward silence filled the air. "I'm Keshiema." Her voice came out flat and lifeless.

  "Strange name. Are you a demon?" His no-nonsense attitude emphasized his bluntness.

  "I don’t know.” Her gaze drifted to the window. "They said I wasn’t human…that it was time I was put into my place."

  Remembering the police chief's last words stung. "You don't deserve the high life you were living, anyway." She pictured him towering over her, his expression cold and stern. "I guess I always knew I didn't belong. But I wanted to." Her heart ached as she thought of the only family she ever knew.

  "You need to get all the crying out tonight. I can stay here, or I can leave you alone, whichever makes it easier for you." The boy's eyes softened slightly as he asked her.

  "You should go." The boy got up and started to leave the room. "Wait." He stopped, still holding the dingy brass doorknob. "What's your name?"

  "Tobias, but my brother and sister call me Tobi." Sadness touched the boy's eyes.

  "You didn't say you had a brother." Her pain lessened slightly as curiosity crept in.

  "Mia's twin, Zack, got adopted last week. That's the only reason we had room for you in here. She's taking it pretty hard." He left the room quickly, slamming the door behind him. `Keshiema felt the sadness masked behind his anger. His words about not crying echoed in her mind. He cared about his siblings and had to grow up fast to protect them.

  A horrible ache filled the pit of her stomach. She missed her sisters. There was nothing she would not give to be with them again. Turning onto her stomach, she cried unrelentingly into her pillow. Eventually, the sobs turned to gasps, and the gasps to hiccups. Soon, the tears dried up, and the ache in her stomach faded.

  Keshiema lifted her face from the tear-soaked pillow. Hair fell into her face, and as she brushed it away, her eyes widened. In her fingers, she expected to see golden brown hair, but silvery blue strands of soft, shiny silk took its place. She needed a mirror. Looking around, she found one hanging on the wall by the door. Her eyes were not the dark hazel they used to be. Instead, they were icy blue, and her pupils had disappeared.

  She opened her mouth to yell for her parents, but before she could form the words, she remembered. The heavy ball in her stomach returned, and with it, her hair and eyes darkened to inky black. Seeing the rippling change, she jumped away from the mirror. As she did, her colors lighted to gray. When her heart rate slowed and she could breathe again, the gray shifted to a stark, almost glowing white. Again, she wanted to call for her parents, only to be hit with grief once more. Crawling back to her bed, she cried herself to sleep with her black hair draped around her.

  ***

  Something soft and heavy covered her eyes, keeping her from opening them. ‘it’s probably for the best,’ she thought, not yet ready to confirm the worst. Keshiema concentrated on the condition of her body. Warmth pressed against her temples, in stark contrast to the chilly air that had her skin covered in goosebumps.

  Socks covered her feet. She instantly felt the need to get them off. They were already starting to bother her, and she only just realized that she was wearing them. Hating footwear of any kind, she grew more frustrated with every second. Too weak to do anything else, she twitched her feet to get the attention of anyone who might be in the room. When no one responded, fear gripped her heart. 'Am I alone?' Struggling sluggishly, she swallowed and instantly felt like a thousand shards of glass were embedded in her throat. She barely managed a weak “Hello?”

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  No one answered Keshiema's call. It took her several minutes to force her arm to listen, but she eventually managed to reach up and remove the eye covering. At first, everything seemed too bright and surreal. When her eyes adjusted, the room started to make more sense. The privacy curtain in the side of her vision, steady beeping sound, bright fluorescent lighting, and the smell of disinfectant all confirmed her location. She hated hospitals. The warmth on her temples came from patches that stimulated brain response to prevent a coma. Stiff and weak, she tore off the patches, one by one, taking time to breathe between each one.

  Gritting her teeth, Keshiema sat up. Her muscles protested with every movement. Looking around, she noticed another person in the room. Crown Prince Stolas slept slouched in a bedside chair. His black duster partly covered his bare chest and six-pack stomach. Over the years, Keshiema overheard many of the women around the academy gush about the Crown Prince; They found him head-over-heels gorgeous. While she recognized his good looks, she felt no real attraction to him.

  A nurse entered the room as Keshiema struggled to get the socks off of her highly sensitive feet. Her sore and hungry state made the task more difficult than it should have been. "What are you doing?" The nurse shouted, rushing over to help. "Why didn't you ring the bell to call for someone?" She lightly pushed Keshiema back down. An ornate whistle dangled on a silver chain around her neck. When she noticed Keshiema looking at it, she promptly tucked it under her shirt. "Rest. I'll take the socks off for you if you don't like them. We have different kinds in the supply room if you want me to go get you some."

  "No," she winced, but fought through the pain and managed a polite "Thank you." She had gone days without food and water in the past, all part of various training exercises, but none of that had prepared her for this. This pain reminded her of having strep throat in the orphanage. She tried to focus her aura to her hands so she could soothe her throat, but nothing formed. 'Stars, feel like I was in a fight with an orc."

  "Do you know what happened to you, Keshiema?" The nurse asked as she removed the socks. Something in her tone made Keshiema uneasy.

  Keshiema shook her head. She wanted to explain more, but could not bring herself to speak again.

  "I see..." The nurse sat her up, fluffed her pillow, and eased her back down. "You were coughing up a lot of blood. And it was pouring from your eyes and ears. You don't remember that?"

  Keshiema remembered the salty, iron-like taste of her own blood. She could almost still taste it. Now that she was thinking about it, her eyes felt a bit dry too, but maybe that was all in her head. "Water?" she croaked.

  "Sure thing." The nurse smiled and hurried out of the room.

  Stolas watched the nurse leave, then gave Keshiema a sleepy glance. "You're awake?" He sat up, giving her an odd look of worry mixed with relief. She could have said the same to him.

  She tried using telepathy to respond, but almost passed out with the attempt. If she had been trying to communicate with a weaker demon, she might have been fine, but in her current state, and with Stoalas's level of raw power, she was met with a dizzying headache and a bout of nausea. Instead, she managed an exaggerated, sarcastic grin and a thumbs-up.

  Stolas leaned back, popping his back and stretching his shoulders before straightening his posture. "Do you need anything?"

  She felt like a freight train ran her over. She needed everything. Water, food, sleep. She pointed to the sink. One problem at a time.

  "I'm sure she's going as fast as she can, Keshiema, especially with me here." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his legs and folding his hands.

  'Oh, right. Because you're the Crown Prince and everyone should be worshipping you and whatnot.' She thought. His arrogance bothered her. 'Why are you here?' she cocked her head at the entitled demon. 'I'm just a lowly peasant, remember? And you're the heir to the throne.'

  Stolas sighed, rubbing his temples. "Keshiema, I'm sorry about what I said. I don't view anyone like that." His apology seemed sincere enough, but she gave him a look of doubt. "I was worried about you. I feel like what happened was my fault." His nervous fidgeting gave away his lie. Her impatient stare told him to continue. "All I know is that none of the demons on campus were affected. Just you." He stared at his feet. "Look, I mean it. I don't think of you like that. I was only trying to test your skills."

  She leaned back into her pillow as he continued. "I don't think poorly of people just because they had a rough life, especially not you." She gave him a disbelieving glance. "You wanted to know how I know your mother, right?" When she nodded, he continued. "I know her because -" Seeing the overly cheerful nurse walk into the room, he immediately stopped talking.

  "Here's your water, young lady. I brought you an entire pitcher and two glasses. I heard the Prince and decided he would probably be thirsty too. That's what took me so long. I had to go back and fetch a second cup. And to find more appropriate glassware." She held up an intricate pitcher carved from sapphire with gold and silver dragons curled around it, fueling a multi-colored fire.

  Keshiema rolled her eyes at the nurse, who was facing the Prince. "Thank you, nurse." Stolas took the tray from the woman.

  'Wow. It must be great to be royalty.' She might have been slightly bitter. Raising the back of the bed, she took a ruby glass from Stolas and downed the water. Closing her aching eyes, she leaned back. The cold liquid soothed her throat in a way she never would have thought possible.

  The Crown Prince set his cup on the table and started pacing the room nervously. Keshiema drifted in and out of sleep, listening to the sounds of machines around her. "She's my mother too." Stolas blurted the words. "You're my sister, Keshiema. And I am here because you were in danger and I wanted to protect you." He went to her side. "Keshiema?" he took hold of her hand and dropped it, hissing. "You're too hot! Nurse!" he shouted, pressing the "help" button repeatedly. "Nurse, hurry!"

  Two nurses and a doctor rushed into the room. One of the nurses pulled Stolas to the side while the other aided the doctor. "I think she's been poisoned." The doctor sounded callous and nonchalant.

  "Poisoned? How?" His crimson aura sparked and crackled, showing his rising anger.

  "It could have been slipped into her I.V." The nurse spotted the two glasses on the bed tray next to the pitcher. "Or perhaps a drink."

  "We don't know how this happened. I advise you be admitted as well." The doctor told him solemnly as he checked Keshiema's eyes.

  "No. you can worry about me if something happens, but right now I want all of your attention placed on her. Treat her as if the royal throne is at stake!"

  ***

  Dark. Silent. Cold. Weightless. 'water?' Keshiema's eyes shot open. Her lungs cried for air. Her body demanded she breathe. She writhed and convulsed, fighting the impulse as she turned about, searching for the surface. She gasped, unable to keep control. Her lungs calmed, filled with fresh oxygen.

  She knew where she was now. Keshiema let her soul float in the darkness between realms. The icy abyss did little to soothe the fire burning under her skin. "That bitch poisoned me!" She screamed. "Damn it all, am I that stupid? I hate this." Knowing she made such a rookie mistake put her on edge. The dark void fed on her anger, growing thicker, making it seem harder to breathe. It was all in her head, of course, because souls don't need to breathe in the world between realms.

  "Its not that bad, thought right? I know what she looks like. When I wake up I can find her and kill her." The water turned into thick slush. The crystals stabbed her lungs like needles.

  "If I wake up. Stars, what if I don't?!" She clutched her head, shaking it furiously. The slush was getting harder. She could barely move now, kept in place by nearly solid ice. "Does it really matter?"

  Using the rhythm of her soul's heartbeat, she tried to calm herself. "What could I have done? I had no aura to neutralize poison." She reminded herself. "Besides, am I not supposed to trust a nurse in the hospital the crown prince himself took me to?" She reasoned. "Just stay calm. He probably cares enough to have them at least try to save me." The ice slowly softened. She could move again. The water grew warmer. To the point it was hot enough to scald a human, maybe even some demons. The darkness lightened, ever so slowly. From the void-like black abyss, to deep cavern, to a moonless night, to a crisp autumn morning, to a bright summer day, the harsh florescent lights of a hospital...