“Hush Little Star,” an older woman's voice said. “You'll find a way to handle this. You always do.”
I started walking forward to the voices, stepping quietly, because it felt like I wasn't supposed to be here.
And I kept walking, because it felt like now that I was here, I wasn't supposed to leave.
“Not this time,” the young woman sobbed. “I don't have any tricks for this, Guineve. There's too many people to save, in too many places, from too much all at once. I can save one world at most, if we sacrifice everything and then everyone else dies.”
“No, Stell!” a high-pitched, musical voice said next. “Guineve's right! Don't give up! We've always come through before!”
I thought I saw some kind of light flash ahead of me. It flashed so quickly I almost thought I imagined it. But I kept walking forward.
I was walking forward, I suddenly realized. Without a cane.
And nothing hurt.
“We've haven't,” the crying woman said angrily. “And you both know that. Even if we do everything possible, every world is still probably going the way of the Lost Deep.”
“Maybe you could summon another-” the bright voice began again. But the sobbing woman interrupted her.
“I can't summon another Challenger, Breena! You both know I can't Call one for at least fifty more Earth years! And even if I could summon one in only twenty Earth years from now, it still wouldn't be enough time to get the Challenger strong enough to fight this many Trials and Tumults, in this many places, all at once!”
“Well can you make us strong enough?” the bright voice began again, wilting slightly as she spoke.
“No, Breena,” the teenage voice sighed. It sounded much closer now. “I wish I could. Especially you. Guineve might be strong enough if she could keep power when she left Avalon, but her leaving would cause just as many complications. I've been trying to get you all stronger, but since you're part of me your growth is as slow as mine. We're going to try anyway. You, the others, and every native hero I can round up, are going to do everything we can to save the day. But it's just not going to work.”
“You never know until you try, dear,” the soothing, motherly voice said.
“Guineve,” the grieving, frustrated voice said back. “You feel everything I do. You know that right now I am being completely objective when I say there's nothing we can do for ninety to one hundred percent of the people we've ever cared for.”
“I know, Little Star,” the motherly voice said, and this time I thought I heard hurt in her voice. “But comforting you is what I do.”
“I know,” the teenage voice said back. “And I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything.”
There was more crying then, and I felt intensely uncomfortable. I felt like the world's biggest voyeur right then, but it wasn't like I could turn around and go back home. Whatever portal I had come through had closed behind me.
It was either spend forever lost in the woods or try to walk to the poor crying people ahead of me, who probably needed help anyway.
Or they'd just kick my ass hard enough to wake me up. Either way.
As I walked through a particularly deep patch of mist, I heard a hum thread out through the woods. The crying and shushing voices didn't seem to notice it until the motherly one suddenly let out a gasp.
“Stell,” I heard her whisper urgently. “Little Star!”
“What?” the teenaged voice whispered back. “And why are we whispering?”
“Because someone’s here!”
The three voices grew completely quiet.
“Are you sure?” the teenaged voice whispered back quietly, and very, very seriously.
Alrighty, I thought. Time to come forward before things escalate.
“Hello?” I called out. “Can someone help me?”
“Identify yourself!” The teenaged voice called back again. “Name and origin world!”
Origin world. Right.
They had been talking about different worlds.
That was always a bad sign. Especially in a dream this lucid.
“Wes Malcolm, of Earth. Um, where are we currently?”
“Earth?” The teenaged voice said in disbelief. “You just said you were from Earth?”
“His name sounds like it might be from Earth,” The high-pitched voice offered. “One of the parts that have funny-sounding names, at least.”
“But he can’t be from Earth,” the teenage voice muttered. “That’s impossible.”
“So is him coming here from anywhere else, Little Star,” The mature woman’s voice said. “Our world is closed except by invitation, remember?”
“Maybe one of the Icons are trying to joke around?” The musical voice said. “They’re usually bad at it though.”
“Well the timing is horrible right now anyway,” the teenage voice growled. “If this is a practical joke,” she called out. “We’re going to be very, very unhappy with you. It’s impossible for you to be from Earth.”
“Um, okay. Why?” I asked, not knowing what else to say.
“Because I haven’t Called you here,” she said with a sigh.
“Huh?” I replied eloquently. “Sorry, can we back up to where I find out where I am? And maybe who I’m talking to? Since I already gave you guys my name?”
Silence greeted me for a moment.
“He’s completely clueless,” the teenage voice breathed. “He might really be from Earth.”
“That would be awesome,” the tiny voice squeaked. “But let me go ahead and make sure. Hey you! What part of Earth are you from?”
“What do you mean?” I asked. Dumb question, but I didn’t want to tell them my hometown and hear ‘Never heard of it, liar! Die!’
“Where do you want me to start?” I clarified.
“Which continent?” the tiny voice demanded.
“North America,” I replied. “It’s in the Northern and Western Hemispheres of our planet.”
“Which country on that continent?” she demanded.
“America.”
“America?” the little voice demanded.
“Yes. United States of America.”
“Your country named itself after its own continent?”
“Um, arguably?” I said cautiously. I didn’t want to get too much into that idea because my country’s education system couldn’t even keep track of who discovered my continent first, let alone who named what, when, and why.
“Sounds pretty arrogant if you ask me,” the little voice huffed.
“Probably,” I replied carefully. “But it wasn’t really my idea. And the Australians kinda did the same thing.”
“Shoot,” the tiny voice squeaked back. “He’s totally up to speed on Earth. I think he’s legit, Stell.”
“What part of America do you live in?” the woman called Stell asked me. ‘Which state?”
“Texas,” I replied. “It’s at the bottom-middle part of the country. Largest state after Alaska.”
“What town or city?”
“Some podunk suburb you’ve never heard of outside the metroplex,” I replied, losing it just a little. “Now can someone please tell me what’s going on? I’m trying really hard not to freak out.”
She didn’t reply to me immediately.
“Earth,” she breathed. “He’s really from Earth.”
“Maybe we should let him see us, Little Star,” the mature voice said. “I think it’s safe.”
“Right, okay, you go first, Guineve. Then you introduce Breena. I’ll... I'll be there in a minute.”
“Little Star,” The motherly voice argued sadly.
“Please, Guineve,” The other voice begged.
Guineve sighed, and then after a moment I saw a tall, womanly figure stride through the mists and make a sweeping motion with her hand.
Instead of parting, the mist seemed to flow around her shape, as if it was curling into clothing. The mist around her legs and feet billowed out and began circling her, climbing up to create the
skirt of a dress. More of it wrapped into a blouse around her torso, then billowed down to form long drapes that hung off of her shoulders and left her marble-pale arms bare.
The woman herself was tall, almost my height, and looked about twice my age, as if she were in her thirties or early forties. However old she was, she wore the age very well, with a mature, full figure that I was trying really hard not to pay too much attention to- another moment where I realized my body was back to normal, and at a level that was a first even for my dreams. Thankfully, the dress concealed her features well, save for her slender white arms and her pale face. Her hair was a dark black color, but the mist had formed jewel-like droplets that scattered light, giving her dark locks all kinds of bright colors, depending on how she turned her head.
“Welcome to Avalon, Wes Malcolm,” The woman said with a kind, pearly smile on her beautiful face. “I am Lady Guineve of the Mists, Guardian of Avalon. May I know the reason for your visit?”
Take it in stride, I repeated to myself. And try to only stare at her face.
“Yes you may know the reason for my visit,” I decided to say. “But please let me know as well once you find out.”
“Oh?” The pale woman arched a very regal dark eyebrow at me. Her face looked very, very serious, except for the tiny smile at the corner of her mouth. “Did you not intend to visit us tonight? Are you saying one of us neglected to close the gate tonight, and you just wondered in like a stray?”
“I, uh, maybe?” I said. This really wasn’t fair. “I don’t really know.”
“And why not?” The tall beauty demanded imperiously, but I swore her dark and twinkling eyes were laughing at me.
“Because I just woke up, have no idea where I am, and frankly am very weirded out now.”
“Weirded out?” The Lady of the Mist said, tilting her head further. “Is that some sort of new phrase?” She turned to look behind her. “Stell?” She called out. “Is that some new catchphrase on his planet?”
A faintly hissing rebuke suggested that Stell still didn't want to be noticed right now.
But I wasn't paying a lot of attention to that. I was recalling the words 'just woke up.'
Far too suddenly, I distinctly remembered not putting on any extra clothing before I came here.
I glanced downward, not remembering how much I had bothered to dress last night and fearing the worst.
“Oh thank God,” I sighed in relief. “I'm not naked.”
The Lady turned her head back to look at me. There was a short but very awkward moment where neither of us said anything.
“What did you say?” she finally asked.
“I mean...” Screw it, I decided. “Well, I just woke up. Do you wear a lot of clothing when you go to bed?”
The statuesque figure paused again, her semi-imperious expression remaining on her face for all of five more seconds. Then she burst out into rich peals of laughter, clutching her stomach as she did so. She started to say something, once, twice, thrice, but was unable to get herself under control.
“Stell,” She finally gasped. “I take it back. This one is too perfect for you. You're taking over.”
“What?” The teenaged voice said from beyond the mists. “No I'm not-”
Guineve, or the Lady of the Mists, or whoever the hell she was pointed out to where the other figure was probably hiding and crooked her finger. Suddenly the mist parted.
A girl that looked to be about my age was trying to hide behind some weird rocks. In many ways, her appearance was the opposite of the older, stately woman next to me. Where the lady called Guineve looked as if she was sculpted, perfected, and well-aged, this girl looked... unfinished. Her skin had a gray tone to it, and somehow looked blurry. No matter where she stood, or even how she stood, shadows seemed to fall over her, robbing her form of a tiny bit of detail here and there. The blurring effect added just enough mystery to make it almost impossible to decide what she really looked like. It hid just enough of her cheeks to where it looked as if they would decide on being narrow or full by next week. Her nose looked a little small, and I couldn’t decide whether that was because of the shadows or because it was still growing into its final shape or because it was just small, and not going to be bigger even when it was finished. Either way, it wound up looking cute, in spite of its still-growing state. Her gray skin seemed like it was changing under the blur, but I couldn’t tell if it was turning pale or darkening. Her eyes were that gray some babies have, that make you keep guessing whether the final color will be brown or green or blue or just stay gray. Her hair was a color and weave that was impossible to pin down, and every drop of mist-reflected light made me swear that she was either a blonde, or a brunette, or a black-haired asian, latino, or indian, or a light-skinned black girl (that might be darker tomorrow for all I knew), depending on the moment I looked at it.
All her little slightly- unfinished features made her so mysterious and exotic that for a second I couldn't help but stare at her face, but I jerked my head away (hopefully) in time before it got creepy. Then I noticed something else.
She was wearing an ironic t-shirt.
I kid you not. Black t-shirt with a fake paper note printed on the front of it. On that note, with cut-out, ransom-note style letters, were the words: I have kidnapped myself. Give me one million dollars or you will never see me again.
I could feel the grin crack across my cheeks. Dream, magical-oz-adventure, bad meds, stroke, whatever this was, this girl just officially became one of my favorite people ever. I'll figure out why she has that shirt in this world at all later, but for now I'm just going to quietly applaud her taste.
And yes, I like ironic t-shirts. Sue me and call me dirty names.
“Hi,” I said, still grinning. “I'm Wes.”
“Hi,” she said back, still nervous but resigned to dealing with me. “I'm Stell.”
“Is that short for Stella?” I asked.
“Yes,” she replied with a small shrug. “But Stella is also short for something else that I don't want to try and pronounce right now, because no one really understands anything beyond the fact that it means ‘star.’ So you can call me Stell, or Stella. And I look like this because you caught me at a bad time and I don’t normally even meet guests when I have this appearance.”
“That's fine with me,” I said with a shrug. “I normally don’t take so long to remember that I dressed myself, and I usually know where I am and why, so I guess we both deserve a little slack. And Wes is short for Wesley, if you want to know. I don't know of any longer versions of my name, though, so you're safe with either of those.”
She finally grinned back, and I wanted to sigh in relief. Without realizing it, I had sort of formed a gentleman’s agreement with her, that we’d both pretend I hadn’t walked in on her bawling her eyes out. There were a lot of questions we both wanted to ask each other right now but somehow we both managed to move the ‘why do you look like that?’ questions to the back of our minds until we both felt safer.
And she had a really nice smile, so I was happy about that too.
Smiles and ironic t-shirts. Sue me again.
“I appreciate that,” she continued, then began speaking again. “Say… we really weren't expecting company at all. Can you tell me how you got here?”
That was a good question. One I’m pretty sure I had already asked at this point.
“Um, maybe?” I replied cautiously. “I either got here by dreaming, or by taking some really bad pain medication I don't remember anything about, or by reaching into my video game harness and pulling out a magic key that unlocked a portal hidden in the wall of my living room.”
Huh. When I say those options out loud…
“I'd go with the magic key,” Stell offered. (Huh?) “Since that's the only explanation that makes sense at all.” (Huh?)
“Uh, what?” I said, and not as smoothly as I'd hoped. Hallucination or not, I kind of wished I was more eloquent about talking to these strangely beautiful, exotic women. Bu
t she still smiled and began ticking off her fingers.
“First off, no medicine has ever granted access to any world. Ever. That would have been a first. And a scary one, because we don't want every person with a cold or the pox to accidentally wind up here after a visit to their healer or herbalist. Second, while most Challengers do enter here while dreaming, they can only do so in response to a Call, and I haven't sent one out yet. You probably heard me lose it while discussing that very fact.”
“Um, sorry,” I said awkwardly, raising a hand before I knew what to do with it.
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