by Julia Crane
After making several twists and turns, trying to work off memory, Callie realized she was lost. She leaned against a wall and pulled the map from her bag. Thanks to all her time in the jungles with her mother, Callie was pretty good at navigation. She studied the hand drawn instructions, but unfortunately, the temple was like a maze. Almost every hall she walked looked the same. Frustrated, Callie shoved the map back in the bag and turned around, intent on retracing her steps.
After several moments, she was so flustered she felt like crying. Whoever designed this place was either a moron or a genius.
Just as she was considering a temper tantrum on the dirty floor, Callie heard footsteps and breathed in a sigh of relief when she saw it was one of the soldiers. He was recognizable by his simple cotton uniform, identical to what she’d seen Josie wear.
Callie smiled sheepishly. “It seems I’m lost. Can you point me in the direction of Gretta’s office?”
The solider nodded. His head was shaved and his face boyish. “Straight down the hall. Two lefts and then a right.”
“Thanks,” Callie said, and shuffled off. When the sound of the soldier’s boots on the floor disappeared, she hung her head in defeat.
She’d had the perfect opportunity to find the hidden room, and she blew it.
“So, this is where you live,” Callie said, squinting under the bright sun. Alaric had met her outside the temple when she’d left work and walked her to his place. They stood before a large structure like any other in Aionia, but the difference was obvious—three stories high with a single door. “Apartments?”
“Yep, sure is. Come on.” He offered his arm, and Callie slipped her own through his elbow.
“Do you live with Josie?” she asked as they ducked through the low-hanging doorway and into the dark interior. It was cool inside, lit by the soft glow of the wall torches.
Alaric steered her toward a staircase to the right, and they mounted the steps.
“No, we chose not to live together. Even though we’re good at pretending we get along great, we actually fight on a regular basis. Siblings, you know.” He grinned. “She lives next door.”
Callie laughed as they exited onto the second floor landing. “Well, at least she’s close.”
“Close is good enough.” He produced a skeleton key from his pocket and stuck it in the lock of the first door on the right.
Alaric’s apartment was very small and spare. It was a single room, much like the downstairs of Callie’s own home. His furniture was obviously handmade—shaved wooden chairs and a table, crudely hewn cabinets in the kitchenette, and a lopsided bookcase against one wall. The bed was made out of thick tree branches and covered with a colorful quilt. There was only one doorway inside, and Callie assumed it led to a bathroom.
“It’s not much.” Alaric shrugged. “But, it’s been home since I arrived in Aionia.”
“It’s cute,” Callie assured him.
“So, have a seat.” He gestured to the table.
Callie was struck by the fact that his hands seemed to be trembling. Is he nervous?
“And I’ll start the stew.”
“Um, I’d rather help, if that’s okay.” Callie brushed off her hands dramatically and put them on her hips. “I’m an expert at chopping vegetables.”
Alaric smiled, and his eyes were soft. “I would like that.”
They gathered the necessities from Alaric’s open pantry—gnarled potatoes, stubby carrots, and bruised onions, as well as celery, tomato, and a small amount of salted beef.
“I’ve been saving it for a special meal,” Alaric told her, setting the sealed package on the counter.
Callie eyed it warily. “I’ve never had salted meat before. In the present day, where I’m from, we have refrigerators. Meat doesn’t have to be salted anymore. Why don’t you have an icebox, like we do at our house?”
“Some homes don’t,” he responded. He dropped his vegetables to the counter and gave her a playful wink. “It’s okay. Where I came from, we had salted meat.”
He handed Callie a square cutting board. “Better to cut at the table, I think. More room.”
The counter was really small. Callie settled into a seat at the table and got to work cubing the potatoes as Alaric set up a big soup pot. She glanced over periodically, watching as he lit his woodstove, filled the pot with water and a decent dollop of butter, then added the already chopped meat.
She’d always found a certain Zen in cooking that couldn’t be achieved elsewhere. She figured it had to do with the tedious, monotonous motion—slicing and chopping, then pushing the end product to the side to slice and chop some more. It was a good time for one’s mind to wander.
Across the table, Alaric sliced carrots with intense concentration. Callie watched him from the tops of her eyes, a smile playing across her face. His hair hung limply, diagonal across his forehead—probably weighed down by the day’s humidity, like Callie’s own dark locks were. He’s so adorable.
“No luck today, huh?” he said, noticing with a knowing grin that she’d been staring at him.
“Unfortunately…no. I got lost.” Callie made a face.
“Were my maps not good?”
“No, they’re wonderful!” Callie rushed to reassure him. “I just got turned around. I’ll try again tomorrow.”
They chattered a little while longer as they finished dicing their veggies, and then carried it all to the pot.
The meat and buttery water combination already smelled delicious. Callie dumped her finished products into the water, the steam hitting her face as she watched. “This is going to be awesome.”
“I love stew.” Alaric lifted his own cutting board and used his knife to slide all of his carrots and celery into the water. “Filling and good.”
“Me, too. My best friend Avery from back home in California, her mom makes the best Irish stew. She pours it over mashed potatoes.”
Alaric was silent for a moment as he poured the bowl of onion slices into the stew. “Callie, what are you going to do if this hidden room and search for a way out of Aionia turns into a wild goose chase?”
Callie put her own cutting board down and leaned her hip on the counter. Meeting his eyes, she said quietly, “I used to call my mom’s search for the Fountain of Youth a ‘wild goose chase.’ And look now—it exists. We found it here.”
His pale eyes were so sad, but he didn’t say anything.
She put a hand on his chest, idly playing with the string at the collar of his shirt that held the two sides together. “I don’t think I disbelieve anything anymore. I will find a way home if it’s the last thing I do.”
“I don’t want you to go,” Alaric burst out. He stepped forward, encircling her waist with both arms as he stared down at her. “Callie, I’m falling in love with you.”
Callie’s eyes widened and her heartbeat quickened. “Wh-what?”
“I love you,” he repeated, leaning to press his forehead to hers. “Don’t leave me. Stay here. In Aionia. Let’s make a life together.”
“Alaric, I’m not even seventeen yet.”
He pecked her lips and chuckled. “It doesn’t have to happen right away. We can wait until you’re eighteen to get married and move in together. Callie, I have forever to live and I would wait forever for you.” His face darkened. “But, if you leave Aionia…we won’t get that chance.”
Speechless, Callie wasn’t sure what to say or do, so she just closed the space between them and kissed him.
Nailah was sitting outside the house with a handsome, dark-complected man with big, dark eyes and fluffy black eyelashes. The moon was nonexistent as Callie walked up to them in the darkness. They were framed in the warm, flickering light emanating from the open townhouse door. Both stood when they saw her.
“Hey! Did you have a good time with Alaric?” Nailah asked. She looked beautiful from her date—a sleek, ankle-length dress that highlighted her thin curves and long limbs and her braids piled into a ponytail.
“U
m. I need to talk to you,” Callie murmured.
“Oh. Sure.” She pointed to her date. “This is Marcus. Marcus, Callie.”
“Great meeting you, Callie. I’ve heard much.” Marcus’s shake was quick and firm. He grinned at Nailah, his smile nearly iridescent in the night. “I will head home. See you tomorrow, Nailah?”
Callie waved and walked inside, leaving them to say their goodbyes.
Gran was sound asleep on the couch, one of Charlotte’s books open across her chest. Callie’s mom was at the table, bent over a crossword puzzle as she bit her lip in thought. She glanced up, her face brightening. “Hey, baby. Nice night outside, huh?”
“Windy,” Callie replied. “I’m gonna go to bed. Gotta work in the morning.”
Emma’s brow wrinkled, but she just nodded. “Of course. Sleep well.”
Callie took the dark stairs—she could do it with her eyes closed after so many weeks of living in a house without electricity. She entered her bedroom, where Nailah had left an oil lamp burning. They’d learned the hard way that before the sun went down, they needed to light their lamp. It took forever trying to do it in the dark.
Still moving in somewhat of a fog, Callie pulled off her clothes and changed into a pair of soft pajama pants and a tank top. She was just crawling under the covers when Nailah came into the room.
“What’s going on?” her friend asked worriedly, perching on the edge of Callie’s bed. “Please tell me you guys didn’t break up. You’re perfect for each other. Whatever you did, undo it.”
Callie rolled her eyes. “I didn’t do anything. You have so much faith.”
Nailah laughed. “I’m just kidding. What happened?”
Pausing for effect, Callie murmured, “He told me he loved me.”
“Oh.” Nailah shook her head. “Why is this a problem?”
Callie fell back to her pillow and groaned. “He makes me want to stay.”
Nailah got to her feet and crossed the room to her closet. “For heaven’s sake, Calista. There is every reason to remain here and little to return.”
“But the reason for going home—”
“Braden and Avery. I know. But, Cal—” Nailah pulled a nightgown from a hanger and turned her serious gaze to Callie—“they’re strong enough to move on.”
Callie shook her head. “If the tables were turned, they’d find a way back to me.”
“You do what you want, Calista,” Nailah told her, stripping off her dress. She tugged the short pink nightgown over her head. “But, remember, this is your chance to start a new life. To get back all those years you lost, searching for the Fountain of Youth.”
It was time for Round Two.
Callie snuck one last peek at the map, committing to memory every hallway and every miniscule landmark within the temple. Stuffing it in her bag, she exited the filing room and went left.
She counted turns—one left. One right. Two lefts. As if pulled by a string, Callie traced her memory of Alaric’s map until she found the symbol he’d told her to look for.
It was nearly hidden but for the golden phoenix emblem on the wall near the ceiling. It flickered in and out of existence as the flame of the nearby torch breathed, expanding in and out. The perfect placement of the stones on an interior wall, which mirrored the two walls on either side, made it easy to bypass if you weren’t looking for it.
Callie reached out, placed her fingers on the wall, and walked until she hit air. She stepped forward, and her arm went beyond the wall. There it is. I must have missed it yesterday.
She stepped into the small alcove and turned right. The walkway did a quick left turn, and she stepped onto a long, thin hallway lit only intermittently by torches. Goose bumps spread across her bare arms. It was eerily dark and cold; according to Alaric’s map, she was in the exact center of the temple.
Callie pulled the map from her bag and consulted it. She passed the three marked doors and came to the stretch of hallway unaccounted for in the blueprints.
Now what?
Hidden rooms. What did Callie know about hidden rooms? A lot, actually. She’d been with her mother for a lot of hidden rooms. In an ancient Mayan temple in Guatemala two years before, there had been a spring beneath the foundation, accessible only by a hidden staircase. They’d found it by a notch on the wall…
Callie eyed the long stretch of stone wall. It wasn’t lit as nicely as the rest of the temple. She sighed and whipped her bag around to pull out her candle and a match. The flame flared into existence. Stepping closer to the wall, she started her search for anything abnormal.
She ran her eyes from top to bottom, inch by inch, thankful that the ceilings weren’t too tall. There were several strange things she found in the first few feet, but no matter of prodding turned them into anything but natural flaws in the stones.
It wasn’t until she’d reached a half-way point that she hit the jackpot: a shallow depression in the stone. If she hadn’t been trailing her fingers over the wall near her abdomen, she would have completely missed it.
Callie knelt to be eye-level with the dip and lifted her candle until she could see it clearly.
There were faint lines inside the circular depression.
She paused, absolutely still even though her breath quickened. Is this it?
Callie lined her finger up inside the circle and pressed.
There was a pop followed by a brief scraping sound. Callie stood up, her eyes sweeping the wall for the source of the scrape, and then walked forward.
The door might as well have been a section of wall, cut out and fixed up with what was probably an air mechanism to work it. One push of the button and a burst of air knocked open the door. Simple but effective.
Callie hooked her fingers in the small crack between the door and the wall, and pulled hard. It took a couple of heaves, but she managed to get it open enough for her skinny body to slip through.
The candle illuminated a very small room, longer than it was wide. Callie held the candle out before her and squinted into the space as she moved forward. There was nothing in there—no tables, no chairs, no cabinets. Nothing but a wooden trunk on the floor against the back wall.
Her heart raced. Parts of her were already celebrating—Charlotte was right, the book existed, Callie could find the way home…but another part of her was steeling herself for a big let down.
She knelt on the floor, carefully placing the candle at her knee. The trunk wasn’t ornate or special—just wood and gold hinges. It wasn’t even locked.
Callie took hold of both sides and tugged the lid up. It slammed against the wall, and she cringed. She glanced worriedly over her shoulder and waited to hear the sound of running footsteps or yells.
Nothing.
She turned back to the trunk. Picking up her candle, she put her hand over the black hole inside.
On the very bottom was a single, brown leather-bound book.
Callie was frozen in place. She stared at the inoffensive object—smaller than she expected—lying on the wood. It could hold the answers she needed. A shiver ran down her spine, and she leaned forward to pick it up.
She tucked the book in her bag, blew out her candle, and then quickly exited the room. Outside in the narrow hallway, she waited a moment to see if she could hear any distant footsteps before shoving the door closed. It slammed into place with the screech of stone against stone.
Hurrying down the hallway, Callie clung to the strap of her bag and tried to control her emotions. Half-elated, half-terrified, she turned the sharp corner to exit the hidden hallway, then turned once more to leave.
And slammed right into a soldier.
She reeled backwards, her bag falling to the floor and sliding across the stones. The soldier—a goofy-looking redhead with a big smile—gripped both of Callie’s shoulders and said, “Whoa, there. You alright, miss?”
Callie nodded vehemently. “Yeah, fine.”
The soldier let go of her to stride across the hallway. Callie watched in horror as he
picked up her bag and dusted it off.
“I’m very sorry about that, miss,” he said in a thick English accent. “I never even saw you coming out of that hallway.”
Callie took the bag as he offered it and clutched it to her chest, her heart pounding. “Thank you. No harm, no foul.”
“I didn’t even know that hallway existed!” he went on, a little bit of awe in his voice. He leaned over to stick his hand in the opening like Callie had done earlier. “Completely wild, isn’t it?”
“Sure.” Callie nodded, edging around him. “Crazy temple. I’ve gotta go. I was lost, but I think I know where I am now, so thanks!”
“Of course!” he said brightly as Callie took off down the hallway. “Have a good afternoon, miss.”
Callie just waved and took the first turn she could, anxious to put distance between herself and the one man who could place her in the vicinity of the hidden room.
Callie tapped her foot on the sidewalk beneath her chair and stared down the street in the direction of the temple. The sun was high and bright, and the wind was blowing just enough to keep it cool. Life in Aionia went about its usual business of lunches in the cafés and pedestrians strolling from store to store, while the book that could get them all out sat in a bag between Callie’s feet.
After she had hurried away from the red-haired soldier, Callie had stashed her bag in an empty drawer in the filing room and chased Alaric down in the main office. He sat beside Darren, his pen flying over paper as the large, colorfully dressed man spoke with another member of parliament.
Callie edged close enough to catch Alaric’s attention. When he glanced up, his blue eyes had seemed to light up the room as they caught sight of her. She motioned to the door with her head, and then left. Darren never even noticed her presence.
Alaric met her outside in the hall just a moment later. “Hey! I wasn’t sure if I would see you tod—”
Callie cut him off. “That thing? You know what I’m talking about, right?”
Alaric’s eyes widened, and he nodded soberly. “Yes.”