Moonshadow

by Krystina Coles

  “Follow me.” Immediately, I hurried through the woods, toward the clearing where we had pitched our tent only a week or so before; but when I reached it, something made me stop.

  “What is it?” Connor slowed in his steps when he caught up with me, but I was silent.

  There it was, again—that feeling—pushing me forward.

  Slowly, I wandered through the trees, losing myself in that feeling. It called for me, and I couldn’t stop myself from walking towards it. Suddenly, a strange breeze caught itself in my hair.

  And I knew.

  The pine tree towered over us like a giant, dressed in a mantle of emerald leaves. It stood, solemn, and still so frightening in the moonlight that draped its bark in silver. It seemed so much more mystical, now—as if the full moon’s presence unlocked its secrets.

  “This is it, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah.” I murmured, speechless. It beckoned me forward as it had before, and I took a step across the ground covered in leaves long dead. A faint whisper found its way into my ears, multiplying as I drew closer. “Do you hear that?” I looked over my shoulder at Connor, but he shrugged in disappointment. I returned my eyes to the tree, widening them as a glittering curtain of foreign symbols materialized before me. Golden letters of a language I’d never learned—they sparkled in the darkness; and I blinked to be sure of what I was seeing.

  “Whoa.” Connor simply said, and I turned to face him.

  “You can see it?” I asked him in amazement; and he nodded, dumbfounded.

  “What are they?” He inquired as he joined my side. I peered at them, trying desperately to discover their meaning; and as if they sensed my presence, they rearranged themselves, breaking up into pieces and forming into something else—something I could understand.

  “They’re words...” I opened my mouth to speak them, but a loud crack in the distance shattered the quietness; and we locked eyes before searching the shadows that threatened to devour us on every side. Something darted through the blackness, and the silhouette of a man came hobbling to us as quickly as it could.

  “Mr. Oak—I mean, Grandpa…” I sighed at the sight of him. “What are you doing here?” He paused to catch his breath, bending over to place his hands on his knees.

  “I knew you would come. You have to understand what’s waiting for you on the other side.” He pleaded with me as he coughed; and Connor ran to him to make sure that he was okay. “You can’t go, Elynea. You can’t fight him.” He shook his head. “Even if you manage to rescue your friends, he won’t let you return with them.” I gazed at him sadly and then glanced back at the golden letters; but somehow in that time that they had transformed and when he had appeared, they had faded away until they were nothing at all.

  “I’m not leaving them.” I started. “If I have that chance to bring them back, I’m going to take it.” I turned to Connor; and I knew from the look in his eyes that despite his own reservations, he understood.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll stay behind with him.” He promised me, but something told me that waiting was the last thing he wanted to do. “Just come back, okay?” Wordlessly, I stepped in his direction, breaking into a run halfway through, and wrapped my arms around him.

  “I will.” I let go, knowing that if I held on any longer that I wouldn’t be able to; and I looked up at the moon one final time.

  “Your mother would be proud of you, but your grandfather is allowed to worry until you return.” My grandfather let his concern overshadow his smile as he shook his head and embraced me; and for the first time, I knew what home was really like. I hurried to the tree again, and the ancient letters revealed themselves once more. Closing my eyes, I drew in a deep breath and spoke.

  “Moonshadow—” At the sound of my voice, the veil was torn open; and a great gust of wind came surging at me from a place that I couldn’t see. The curtain of golden words burst into a million tattered pieces, falling away in a shower of shimmering flames. I covered my eyes to shield them from the light, but it was brighter than any sun could have ever been. And then, it was gone; and I was left standing in the darkness of the forest.

  “It didn’t work.” I whispered to myself; and as my vision blurred, I knew that it was the tears that came to my eyes. “Connor,” I turned to face him, “it didn’t…”

  But he and my grandfather were gone, and only silence took their place.

  “Connor?” I called his name once more, but something told me that he was too far to hear it. I stole a step backward, my wet shoes squishing against the cold hard ground; and I stared at it in confusion.

  Where had all the leaves gone?

  Cobblestones paved the sylvan floor in their stead, and I lifted my eyes to see that they formed a path underneath my feet and led somewhere farther up ahead. It was quiet, save for the warm breeze that rustled through the tree branches.

  And I remembered. It was summer here.

  Absentmindedly, I took off my coat and followed the road, glancing at the trees around me.

  They didn’t look any different.

  But suddenly, a fleeting glimpse of moss green skin darted from one trunk to another; and I quickened my pace. An amber light burning just outside the forest came into view, and I raced towards it anxiously, pausing as I came to the end of the wood.

  If I had ever been to Paris, I imagine it would have looked like this.

  Gothic arches graced the façade of nearly every building, and towers and domes of glass touched the clear night sky. It seemed that not a soul was awake tonight, leaving the magical place in its entirety for me to explore. A great river split the ancient city in two; and a large stone bridge crossed over it, making it whole again. Hesitantly, I set foot on the bridge, afraid that it couldn’t possibly be real; but it was, and I ran my fingers along the filigrees engraved into the railing. I looked down when the details at the base of the bridge caught my eye, only to find that the phases of the moon hovering over a herd of wild horses had been carved into the stone.

  The city of earth and water—I was here. I was home.

  The river gurgled beneath me, and I stole a glance over the edge of the bridge in time to catch a glimpse of a glass boat gliding across the surface of the river. I blinked in wonder as I watched its occupant row it to a submerged floor of one of the buildings and saw that it was glass as well; and he unlocked an iron gate and drifted out of sight.

  “Wow.” I sighed. My grandfather never told me how beautiful it was; but then, he hadn’t seen it in more than thirty years.

  I gazed up at the starry sky and gasped as I witnessed the constellations take shape and dance above me.

  Orion in all his glory lit up the darkness as he taunted the Great Bull; and Taurus charged at him, huffing in a rage when the Hunter evaded him and sent the seven Pleiades scattering in the other direction. In the quietness, I laughed a little to myself and rested my chin on my hands as I watched.

  “The stars are different here.” I lifted my head at the voice, eyes wide.

  “You.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Apples and Toffee

  “Hey, Moongirl.” He stood at the other end of the bridge and smiled, brown eyes sparkling.

  It was so odd—he didn’t look out of place at all.

  “Caleb…” I whispered his name as he strolled towards me with his hands in his pockets, and the fires in the streetlamps seemed to brighten as he walked past. “Did you follow me here?”

  Something told me that I already knew the answer.

  “No.” He shook his head with a grin, but it fell from his face when he saw how perplexed I was. “I’m here to take you home.” He held out his hand, but I could only stare at it. “It’s okay.” He reassured me, and I placed my hand in his and let him lead me to the other side. He stopped at what I had previously believed to have only been a pillar; but as he placed his hand on the stone wall, it caved into itself, revealing a narrow flight of stairs spiraling down to the water. I glanced at him, uncertain. “Go on.” H
e gestured for me to enter; and when I didn’t step inside, he took the lantern from the staircase wall and led the way.

  “You’re from here?” I spoke, looking back as the wall closed us in; and I learned quickly that I had claustrophobia.

  “Yes.” He turned his head to face me as he waited on the bottom step. “I’ve lived in Xaijena for a while, now.”

  Finally—a name.

  “Xaijena?” I repeated. “Is that where we are, now?” I asked him when I reached the end of the staircase.

  “This is Rynmoor. Xaijena is what they call the twenty-eight cities as a whole.” He replied and opened the door, and a wave of mist came wafting over us. My heart fluttered in my chest when he left the hollow pillar and stepped aside, revealing another gondola made of glass docked at the edge of the platform. He closed the wooden door when I emerged from the tower; and I stepped closer to the transparent vessel to run my hand along the side, leaving a glowing handprint wherever skin and glass met. I was startled when it suddenly bobbed in the river, and I looked up to find that he was already sitting in it. He beckoned for me to join him, and it rocked slowly when I climbed inside. I sat across from him, holding my legs tightly with my arms when he reached for the oars and began to push us away from the bridge and down the river. I averted my eyes when he glanced at me, but it wasn’t enough to escape his attention. “You’re wondering why.” He said as we passed the building that I had seen before, and I gazed down at the water to realize that all of them stretched down below the surface with walls of enchanted glass. “I just wanted to meet you—before it came to this.” He lifted his head to gaze up at the arches above us; and for a second, I saw him as who I thought he was the night that we met.

  “What made you stay?” I wanted to know.

  “I didn’t know that you grew up in the dark about this place—about yourself. And when the Wendigo attacked your friend—” He began, but I had so many questions.

  “A Wendigo killed Matthew?” I interrupted him, but he didn’t seem to mind.

  “No. The shadow creature that you saw that night—what we call a Ravenmocker—that’s what killed him. It preys on the weak and the dying. It’s been following the Wendigo for a while now.” He answered. “As a daughter of the water kingdom, you inherited a healer’s blood—the only thing that they’re afraid of. You wrote the Ravenmocker’s death sentence when you saw it, but I couldn’t determine who the Wendigo was in time.”

  “What do you mean?” I wrinkled my forehead, concerned.

  “They can assume any shape they want. It could have been anyone.” I peered at him at his response, and he chuckled lightly. “It’s not me. They can’t stay in human form too long before they need to hunt.”

  I believed him. I’m sure I would have noticed a monster sleeping on the couch downstairs.

  I took in my surroundings when the boat floated into the mouth of an underground tunnel lit with torches fastened to the walls and drifted through an invisible barrier that shimmered with silver when it touched my face.

  “What was that?” I looked back at it over my shoulder as we slowly glided away, deeper into the heart of the city.

  “Only a Torrowin can enter this part of Rynmoor.” He said as we came to a series of smaller arteries of the river, and he rowed the boat through the second to the right. Candles in place of torches lined both sides of the narrow cave and filled the watery path in little white ceramic bowls, their firelight setting the water aglow as the bow of the gondola pushed through them. I opened my mouth to ask him why and what that would make him in relation to me; but as we came upon the end of the tunnel, those words left my throat before I could speak them. An underground garden, with arches that mirrored those of twice the size outside carved into the rocky dome walls—and massive trees laden with a myriad of magnolias giving shade to pools of the bluest of water. I glanced up at the ceiling and found that it was covered in a million living stars that sparkled as they drifted over my head and illuminated the cave. We came to a stop at a patch of grass, and Caleb leapt over the side and held out his hand to pull me onto solid ground. I stepped into the center of the garden and placed my hand on the trunk of the tallest magnolia tree, careful not to stumble over the circle of tiny stones that surrounded it. All five of the trees seemed to be guarded by them, and I marveled at the sight.

  “Why did you bring me here?” I whirled to face him, and he looked down at the ring of rectangular stones by my feet. I drew closer to them, and my heart sank into my stomach when I realized what they were. Headstones. All of them. “You said you were going to take me home…” My throat hurt as I swallowed, and my eyes began to fill with tears.

  “Melissa,” it was hard to say, “you’ve been gone for two hundred years.” He took a step towards me; and I backed away from him, shaking my head.

  “No…You’re lying…” I felt the magnolia tree against my back and knew that there was nowhere else to go.

  “Melissa…” He reached out his hand to comfort me as I looked at them again; but this time, I saw something that I hadn’t seen before.

  “Why did they die on the same day?” I asked him, horrified; and he returned his attention to the markers with a somber look on his face. “You know, don’t you?” I called his name when he didn’t answer. “Kana’ti…please…” At once, he turned to me, the sadness drowning the fire in his eyes. “Did you kill them?”

  “No…” He told me, a deep sorrow falling from his lips; and I thought of the woman that he loved before.

  Had he told me the truth then? Or did he kill her too?

  “Why don’t I believe you?” I wanted to—so much; but my mind told me that I couldn’t, and it was enough. I glanced down at the nearest pool of water and wished to be home again—whatever that meant, now. With Heather and the others and then back to Cedar Crest—back to Connor and my parents and my grandfather. To the family that I still had.

  “Melissa, no—” He shouted as I gathered as much air as I could into my chest and dove into the water that wasn’t as shallow as it appeared to be, and his muffled words faded away the deeper I found myself. It seemed endless—that pool of water; but there was no clear way out of it, and I panicked as I fought to keep the same air in my lungs.

  I couldn’t return to the surface—he would be waiting there for me. But staying in the water only to drown frightened me more.

  I broke the face of the pond, terrified of what awaited me on the other side; but as I dragged myself over the edge, a cold hard floor caressed my skin. I coughed up water as I lay on the tiles, disrupting the quiet that shouldn’t have greeted me at the surface. I lifted my head up from the floor and saw the moon through the skylight, and I knew that I was somewhere else. I pulled myself up from the ground, my drenched dress weighing me down; and I gathered my senses in this new place. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, but it gave no light. It left the room in utter darkness—save for the silver light of the moon that reflected in the water and mother of pearl that covered the wall behind it. I shivered and held my arms before leaning against the wall, and I turned my head to the right to see that the room narrowed into a long corridor with a pair of two silver plaited doors at the end. Silently, I walked towards it, trembling all the way down the hallway; and I hesitated at the doors, not sure if I wanted to push them open. But when I curled my fingers around the metal handle, I knew that I had no other choice. With a creak, the heavy doors gave way. White gossamer curtains fell over the windows from frames of twisted silver, reminding me of the sign at my parents’ ranch; and the ceiling—the ceiling was painted with the constellations of the winter sky. It was…almost magical—how closely it mirrored the sky I had seen not too long ago. It was empty, like the room before; but white wooden dressers stood near the western wall. And a mahogany chest sat at the foot of a bed canopied in periwinkle drapes. Desperate for dry clothes, I hurried to the chest and lifted the lid; and a mass of royal blue fabric met my eyes. I peeled my maroon dress from my skin and set it aside, s
lipping the new gown over my head and letting it fall just inches from the mosaic floor. I found my reflection in a mirror situated in between a pair of windows and traced the silver metal fashioned into lace panels at my right hip and left shoulder in curiosity.

  “It’s funny—that you would pick that one.” I jumped at the sound of another voice and turned to face a little girl no older than ten in a white nightgown. She gazed at me with hazel eyes, her long black hair cascading just below her shoulders.

  “Hi…” I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  “Why are you here?” She asked me, but the animosity that I expected was replaced with interest instead.

  “Why are you here?” The bedroom seemed to belong to someone else—the dress couldn’t be hers.

  “I was looking for Jitsu…” She gestured to something much lower to the ground behind me; and a brown and white hare leapt out from underneath the bed and into her arms.

  “Your rabbit?” It sounded like a strange name for a pet.

  “He’s not a rabbit.” She replied, and I opened my mouth to ask her what she meant.

  “Norrie?” A woman in her early thirties wandered in through the doorway, immediately holding her daughter behind her at the sight of me. “Who are you?” I scrambled for an answer, not really sure how to respond.

  “Melis—Elynea. Elynea Torrowin.” At my words, she took a step towards me and narrowed her eyes as she stared at my face—as if she were looking for the truth. They suddenly widened when she found it, and she marveled at the gown that I had stolen from the chest.

  “Welcome home, lost one.”

  “Has it really been two hundred years?” I sat across from her in the study as Norrie sat in her lap; and from the corner of my eye, I watched a young man bend down in front of the fireplace and set the wood ablaze with a whisper. He wore different colors than the others: a red tunic and leather blackened with soot. The woman nodded sadly, and I sighed in frustration before raising a goblet rimmed with silver moons to my lips. Its contents warmed my insides, flooded my mouth with the taste of spiced apples and toffee; and instantly, I was filled with an agonizing longing for Mrs. Harrison’s Thanksgiving pie.