Epilogue

by Etzoli

  I nodded. “You’re right, we should get more of those.”

  “More urgent things to talk about, Matt.”

  I sighed, resigning myself to fate. Better to have it out now than later, I supposed—but Jen had other things on her mind than the events of the last week.

  “Is this real?”

  “Yes.”

  “How can you be sure?” she asked, eyes squinting at him. “What about the time we had those visions, back in Helsevar?”

  “Do you remember the pact I made?”

  “ Selnou. ”

  “Then you know as well as I do, this is for real.”

  Jen nodded. “Okay, yeah. Guess the old bitch wasn’t lying.”

  “I’m sure you meant to say witch.”

  “You didn’t know her like I did,” Jen replied, grinning. “So… we’re home.” A melancholy look filled her face. “…Forever.”

  I didn’t dare contradict her. Luckily, I was saved from having to answer, as Jen leapt out of her chair and darted to the other side of the kitchen. I twisted around, confused, and saw the home phone lit up and about to ring. Jen picked it up just as the ringer was about to intrude on the peace and quiet.

  “It’s Carl.”

  This was another unwelcome development. I steeled myself for confrontation. “Can you put it on speaker?”

  “Yeah, one sec.” Jen fiddled with the phone. “Crap. I don’t remember how.”

  “What?”

  “It’s been a while, okay?” She held it up to her ear. “Hey. Yeah, Carl, it’s me. Hang on. Shut up a second. How do I put this on speaker? …Button on the… okay, yeah.” She fumbled with a few buttons, and the faint white noise of the phone speaker filled up the kitchen. Jen set the phone down on the table. “Matt’s here, too.”

  Carl’s voice crackled out of the speaker, very low. He was avoiding making too much noise, lest he wake up his temperamental father. “We’re alive.”

  “No shit, Carl,” said Jen. “Trying to be profound?”

  “Shut up.” I could practically hear his face turning red through the phone. “Matt, you there?”

  “I’m here.” Dread filled my entire mind, cascading as if a dam had suddenly burst wide open. I knew exactly what was coming next.

  “Have either of you heard from Blake?”

  Jen looked at me, her expression grim. She was waiting for me to answer.

  I shook my head very slowly. “Carl…” I started.

  “Hang on. Hear me out. We came back unchanged, right? So maybe—”

  A sliver of hope. I didn’t dare entertain it. I was afraid, of what it might grow to become, and how quickly it would be snuffed out. I had to take control, fast.

  “Did you try calling him?”

  “He doesn’t have a cell. I tried his house once, but no one answered. I didn’t want to try again. I don’t want to wake anybody up.” Carl was right. Blake’s parents were the nicest couple in the world, and every time I hung out there I felt jealous of his home—but his dad absolutely would not be okay with getting woken up at two in the morning.

  “Then that’s all we can do for now.”

  “But—” Carl’s voice rose slightly, getting louder.

  “Carl,” I interrupted sharply. “Remember where you are. You’re eighteen. It’s a school night, and your dad’s asleep down the hall.” I tried to inject as much calm into my voice as I could muster. As it had so many times before, it worked. When Carl spoke next, it was low and subdued.

  “So what do we do?”

  “We go to school. Meet up at lunch tomorrow, like we always do. Jen, you’ll come sit with us.”

  Jen nodded. “Okay. Sara can live without me for one lunch.”

  “Good. Carl?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Cyraveil doesn’t exist.”

  There was a pause. I waited, hoping Carl would understand and follow without question. There was only one way we’d all get through this without being locked up in an asylum. We had to fit back in as if we’d never left. Tell absolutely no one. I could do it. Jen could probably do it too, with some help—but Carl had changed so much more than I had, and in the opposite direction. I was ready for a challenge like this. The new Carl? If he still had his sword… I couldn’t be sure.

  He finally answered. “Got it.”

  I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding in. Jen noticed it, looking at me curiously. She didn’t say anything, leaving Carl in the dark.

  “Okay. Then we’ll see you tomorrow, Carl.”

  “Tomorrow,” Carl acknowledged. “Hey, Jen. You still there?”

  “ Dov? ” Jen leaned forward over the phone.

  “ Vei savi ilu dou, desve ta nal erreth. Syldae se valenda, selnou? ”

  “…Sure, Carl.” Jen looked slightly embarrassed, but it faded quickly. “Will do.”

  “Okay. Night, guys.” The phone clicked off. I watched Jen carefully as she put the phone away, looking for her reaction.

  “What was that about?” I asked. I only had a vague idea of what Carl had said. I’d never learned the language like he had, just a few useful phrases (and a few insults), and of course neither of us came even close to Jen.

  “What? A guy can’t be nice and be concerned about me?” Jen replied.

  “Oookay, forget I asked.” There was something there, but Jen made it clear I didn’t need to know it. As long as it didn’t affect us, it was her business.

  “So… we just go back to school, then?” Jen changed the subject for me, to which I leapt gratefully.

  “Yeah. Just be normal. Not that you ever were.”

  Jen punched my shoulder in response. “You can do better than that.”

  I laughed. “Give me a few days. I’ll bring back all the bad jokes.”

  Jen grinned. It already felt like we were returning to normal. A few more little pushes and maybe we could slide completely into perfect mundanity. “So, what do you want for dinner tomorrow?”

  “I dunno. What are you in the mood for?”

  I shrugged. “Why don’t we just go to the grocery store after school and play it by ear? We can get anything you want.”

  “Ooh. I might abuse that.” Jen’s face turned mischievous, but I’d meant what I said.

  “Abuse all you want. It’s a special occasion.”

  “The day the bad jokes returned?”

  I laughed again. It felt warm and comforting, like the sun rising out of the darkness. I hadn’t had much to laugh about for a long while. “Sure, let’s go with that.”

  “What on earth are you two doing up?” A groggy voice echoed from the hallway, followed by the front door clicking shut. Our mother had wandered in finally, her face looking like it was melting away from exhaustion. Her eyes were sunken and drowsy, and she was leaning against the wall. She dropped her bag on the floor.

  “Mom!” Jen leapt out of her seat and rushed over, wrapping her in a bear hug. I stayed put, watching them both—but in truth, I felt the same joyous reaction as Jen in that moment. I’d never really been much for hugging her before… but everything was different now.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing, Mom,” Jen replied, and as her face pulled back, I saw tears forming in her eyes. “I’m just glad to see you.”

  “Did something happen?” Mom’s eyes widened, becoming alert and adept. Even as tired as she was, the mere possibility something might be wrong with her daughter brought her alive. It was a trait I’d come to recognize in all three of us now, the adrenaline rush and the hyper-aware state we all had mastered. Mom, like the two of us now, could be ready for anything, even on the brink of collapse.

  “Nothing happened, Mom,” I answered. “We were just waiting for you to come home. I couldn’t sleep.”

  She frowned, but with reassurances from both of us, her fatigue was beginning to win over from the adrenaline. Her eyes drooped again. “All right, Matthew. If you say so.”

  “We’re fine. Time for bed for everyone, I thi
nk.”

  “Come on, Mom,” Jen added. “I’ll help you upstairs.”

  “Thanks, Jenny.” I’d forgotten, Jen was still going by Jenny seven years ago. She’d long since decided she hated it. As Jen half-carried our mother back down the hall, she twisted and shot me a pained look. I grinned.

  “Good night, Jenny,” I called. She rolled her eyes, before turning back to the stairs as they began to climb.

  I cleaned up after our snack, putting away the milk and tossing the empty box of cookies.

  I was actually looking forward to school tomorrow, as crazy as that might have sounded before we left. There were friends I hadn’t spoken to in nearly a decade, after all. Classes would be a bit harder to get back into. I was having a hard time remembering things like what rooms they were in, or where my locker was. I’d have to trust in physical memory to lead me to the right spots.

  I could do it. I had to do it. The only way I could get my life back on track was if no one ever figured out what happened. Cyraveil was in the past, and if I could help it, it would stay there. Forever.

  As I turned out the lights and headed back to my room, I saw Jen’s light click off as well. I closed my door, remembering to avoid the click this time, and crawled back into bed. Exhaustion had returned with a vengeance. I began to drift off almost immediately, but one nagging memory pushed its way back to the surface, keeping me awake just along to remember the ramifications.

  The witch had told me a secret, after we’d made our pact. Something I’d kept hidden deep inside my soul, that I dared not reveal to anyone. She’d told me how we could return to Cyraveil.

  On my life, if I could help it, I’d never let any of us see that wretched land again.

  Chapter 2 — Carl

  “Portman, what is this?”

  “Sir.”

  “You two got the call, you two take the case. You know the rotation. It’s that simple. Do you have a problem with that?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Look, I get it. It’s a teenage runaway. Pain in the ass, but someone’s gotta take care of it.”

  “…Sir, if I understand correctly, the father is a personal friend?”

  “I’m busy. Get to work.”

  I tapped on the screen, ending the call with Matt’s last words still echoing in my ears. He was a dick sometimes, but he was usually pretty smart, and he was in charge. I wasn’t about to get answers at this hour. I definitely wasn’t sleeping anytime soon, though. Especially with the migraine that had plopped its ass down on my head.

  I set the phone down and plugged it in to charge, leaning back in my chair and closing my eyes while the headache washed through my skull. The glow of the screens in front of me shone through my eyelids, irritating as hell. I lifted a foot and turned them off with my toe, one by one. Blessed darkness returned to the room, the only sound being the white noise of the case fans from my desktop. Any other day, they’d annoy me just as much, far louder than they needed to be—but today, I wanted something to blot out all the background noise.

  I was back, and I hated every damn second of it. This world sucked.

  Even the smell was wrong. It all smelled too clean, too fake. I already missed the deep forests and huge mountains, the castles and villages, the market square and the festivals. Yeah, it might’ve smelled like shit for a while, but eventually, it was actually kind of charming. It had way more character than my dusty room. And the people.

  God, the people. At best, they were actually interesting , with stories to tell and lives that actually mattered. At worst… I had plenty of ways to deal with them.

  Tomorrow was really going to suck. I’d never liked school much in the first place. It always seemed like a huge waste of time. I knew everything I needed to know already, but I had to sit through lectures and lessons, while teachers droned on and on. I had to wade through mounds of bullshit for the few nuggets of actual, useful information. The internet taught me more than they ever could.

  There was a redeeming note in the despair settling into my mind. I had the internet again. Once you’ve lived without electricity for years, you really come to appreciate just what a beautiful and awe-inspiring invention it really is. With a few taps on a plastic keyboard, I could communicate with virtually anyone, anywhere in the world, instantly .

  Having just returned from a world where the fastest method of communication (barring risky and draining magical talent) was by horseback, the idea was mindblowing. Coordinating groups of soldiers hundreds of miles apart into an effective fighting force was difficult enough on its own, and horses tire out faster than you might expect. The lands I’d helped conquer could attest to that.

  As I sat, remembering my old campaigns, a knock came at my bedroom door.

  Oh shit.

  “Carl?”

  Oh, shit. It was my dad.

  “Carl, what the hell are you doing up this late?”

  Could I just pretend I was actually asleep? The lights were all off. I doubted he’d actually come in. It seemed like the best option.

  “I heard you talking. You know you’re not allowed to be up this late.”

  Just ignore him. Just keep ignoring him.

  “We’ll be speaking about this tomorrow, young man.” I heard him walk away, heavy footfalls receding into the night.

  Young man? Did he realize who he was talking to? I could—

  No, wait. I couldn’t. I didn’t have that anymore.

  Without warning, tears were already forming in my eyes. I was crying, silently. I’d been feeling it ever since I woke up. It had built up, slowly but surely, like the tide rolling in and the waves rising up the shore higher and higher. Everything I’d worked for, all the training I’d sweat and bled through… it was gone. I’d gone overnight from one of the most feared men in multiple kingdoms to… this.

  I lifted an arm up and opened my eye, examining it. It was so skinny and frail. Sure, I could still lift a fair amount. I wasn’t exactly weak , but comparatively…

  Something to work on, I decided. I brushed the tears out of my eyes. I leaned forward and turned the screens back on. It was time to get to work. I needed information. I needed to know exactly what had just happened.

  I began jotting down notes. We’d apparently disappeared in one place and returned in another, with only a few hours passing in between. Seven years went by in that short time. We’d grown older, we’d changed physically and mentally, but the physical changes were totally gone. This could all be easily explained away by magic, for better or worse. Magic was real in Cyraveil, and had somehow leaked over and ensnared us in its web for seven long years. The seven best years of my life.

  Dammit all.

  I headed to the search engines, but as I expected, I was mostly fruitless. Every variation on “Cyraveil” I could think of only brought me the results I expected: articles on the park and the forest inside. I skimmed them briefly, but nothing jumped out as a clue. I started assembling a folder of bookmarks anyway, just in case they were relevant in the future. I branched my searches out, adding in small details of the world on the other side, and received empty results, or vague connections to fantasy novels and games I already knew held nothing useful.

  In a way though, I was glad. Despite years of neglect, I still knew my way around the internet. I might not be finding anything, but at least I knew how to not find anything. I delved deep into old forums and ancient message boards, hunting down posts from years past. It almost felt like working with Reynir again, uncovering old scrolls deep in the castle vaults. I was getting more desperate now, and with it came a dose of paranoia.

  Matt was right about our need to be careful. If people didn’t believe us, we’d get locked away in an asylum for sure. I shuddered at the thought. The idea of being trapped in a colorless, faded building, clean and sterile, with no freedom and the world believing you to be a jibbering mess? I’d sooner kill myself.

  But there was the other extreme. What if they did believe us? We could be hunted down by any
one. There were plenty of governments that might leap at the chance to exploit a whole new world full of valuable resources. And magic? What world power wouldn’t want magic on their side?

  No, I had to cover my tracks. I kicked on every security measure I had available at the moment, routing my connections through multiple private networks and ensuring end-to-end encryption on everything. No one would know where my posts were coming from.

  I started leaving replies to those abandoned posts on old fantasy message boards, those people who claimed to have truly travelled to other worlds. Few had any replies, most users assuming they were crazy or just trolling. I didn’t discount them just for having the wrong name of the world, or a few incorrect details. They might have been hiding themselves too, just as I was, or they could have gotten their information from ill-informed peasants and savages. On the truly ancient boards, those dating back past the turn of the millennium, I also sent emails when possible.

  Having set everything in motion that I could, I turned the screens off once more, and slid back into bed. My mind was still whirring as furiously as the fans in my machine. Even though only a few minutes had passed, I became irrationally irritated that my phone wasn’t immediately buzzing with results, emails flooding in from fellow travellers grateful and eager to connect with me. Sure I could logically remind myself that it was past two in the morning here, and five in the morning on the east coast where most of those boards were situated. Few of those respondents, if they even maintained their accounts anymore, were likely awake and trawling the boards at this hour.

  I couldn’t help it. I needed to find more like me.

  I tossed and turned for what felt like hours, as my phone remained stubbornly silent. Then, with a buzz and a jolt, I heard my phone slip off the desk and fall to the floor.

  I leapt out of bed and grabbed it eagerly.

  It was 7AM, and my alarm was going off.

  ***

  I didn’t spend any time getting ready for school. I only had a little time, and I had plenty of other things I wanted to get done before I left.

  Right away, I got back online, checking every post I’d made. No replies or updates yet, but that wasn’t surprising. I really just wanted the reassurance that I’d actually put the word out, that I hadn’t just dreamed it all. The internet didn’t lie.