Empyrean: Return of the Fire Faery

by Twyla Turner

  Empyrean:

  Return of the Fire Faery

  By Twyla Turner

  ©2016 Copyright Twyla Turner

  Cover Images:

  www.fotolia.com

  Artist:

  Oksana Churakova

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events are purely coincidental.

  To Ms. Price,

  Not only were you my favorite teacher, but you were also the first person to make me feel like I actually had talent as a writer. For that, I am eternally grateful.

  Table of Contents:

  Glossary

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Other Books by Twyla Turner

  Connect with Author

  Glossary

  Empyrean [Em-pir-ee-uhn]

  Imogen [Em-uh-gin]

  Daegan [Day-guhn]

  Tag [Tahg]

  Pamina [Pah-mee-nah]

  Rafe [Rayf]

  Hikari [Hi-car-ree]

  Myrkur [Meer-koo r]

  Hafgrim [Haf-grim]

  Yaron [Yar-uhn]

  Aviana [Ah-vee-ah-nah]

  Saffi [Sah-fee]

  Wakeley [Wake-lee]

  Rae [Ray]

  Alpanian [Al-pay-nee-an]

  Gryphon [Griff-in]

  Imp [Emp]

  Älva [El-vah]

  Sabir [Sah-beer]

  Valen [Val-in]

  Valora [Vah-loor-ah]

  Cerise [Sir-reese]

  Kaapo [Kah-po]

  Sachi [Sah-chee]

  Uric [Yer-ric]

  Naia [Nahy-ya]

  Yara [Yar-ah]

  Sagan [Say-gahn]

  “We are the whisper on the wind through the trees and against your skin. The sparkling surface of the water. The winking flicker in the stars. The purple shadows that fall on the mountains at eventide. The fiery pink, red, and orange of the sky at dusk. The murmur of a legend told for centuries. How could you not believe that we are real?”

  Chapter 1

  Imogen

  “Why don’t you go back to the Middle East where you came from?” Hailey said cruelly as she shoved the quiet girl against the lockers. “No one wants your terrorist family here.”

  I sat on the bench in front of my gym locker, grinding my teeth together in anger. What a bitch! She’s not even from the Middle East, you moron! She’s from Morocco, I thought in my head. I know the country’s main religion is Muslim, but I figure if you were gonna harass someone, at least get it right. And Mina was the farthest person from a terrorist, I could possibly imagine. Whether Hailey’s facts were right or not, the mean girl had a thing for picking on the weak. All of it was to prove that she was the queen of the school. I knew all too well what it felt like to be on the receiving end of her bullying.

  The teasing had begun when we were all changing into our gym clothes and continued all throughout class. It had now escalated as we changed back into our street clothes in the locker room at Red Rock High. Though I was no stranger to bullying, I knew that I could handle it better than the timid bookworm.

  “What are you gonna do? Shoot up the school?” Hailey taunted some more as Mina cowered in fear.

  Many of the girls in the locker room laughed, egging on their leader. Others remained quiet, not willing to rock the boat. Afraid that the bullying would turn on them if they interfered. But I had no such problems with standing up to the real high school ‘terrorist’, considering I knew Hailey better than most. And besides, I had finally had enough.

  “Back off, Hailey! Leave her alone,” I growled as I stepped in between the bully and her shy victim.

  “Oh look, the fat ginger, trailer-park skank is standing up for the nerdy, terrorist freak!” Hailey turned her taunting to me. “Why don’t you do yourself a favor and OD on some meth, like your crack-head mom did?”

  Red hot rage pumped through my blood, right before I blacked out. Moments later, I felt hands pulling at my clothes and body as my vision began to clear. When my eye’s refocused, I realized that I held Hailey’s brown hair in a vice grip with one hand, as I sat on top of the now cowering bully. The other hand was balled into a tight fist, and as if it had a mind of its own, was raining blows on the side of my tormentor’s head and face. I vaguely registered the crowd of girls around us, cheering the fight on and the sea of cell phones recording the whole thing in the hopes of going viral.

  I inwardly cringed, though I still couldn’t stop myself.

  “Imogen, stop!” I heard our gym teacher shout, but I couldn’t seem to control the fury that raged on. “I said, STOP!” Ms. Jacobs bellowed as she pulled me with all her might.

  Finally, I let go of the battered girl. Ms. Jacobs dragged me away as I watched Hailey stumble to her feet, wiping away tears from her crimson flushed and already swelling face.

  “Talk about my mom again bitch, and see what happens!” I spat out angrily as I jerked free of Ms. Jacobs’s tight hold.

  “Imogen that’s enough! Both of you, go to the principal’s office. NOW!” Ms. Jacobs huffed. Some of her hair had come loose from her ponytail while she tried to break up the fight and she swiped it out of her face.

  “Why should I go to the principal’s office? I didn’t do anything wrong.” Hailey whined, innocently.

  “Oh, don’t think I didn’t hear your little comment. It was cruel, and you know it. Now go!” Ms. Jacobs pointed towards the door.

  Hailey walked out of the locker room with her shoulders hunched. Our teacher followed behind her, and I took up the rear. Ms. Jacobs was no dummy. She knew better than to leave us alone together.

  The bell rang as we walked down the hall towards our fate. Other students poured out into the hallway, chatting as they made their way to their next class. Several kids, including my long-time crush, Aiden, stopped to watch as a red-faced Hailey, Ms. Jacobs, and I made our way to the principal’s office. I tried to give nothing away. I kept my face devoid of emotion and just stared ahead at the back of my teacher’s head, focusing on her ponytail as it swished back and forth with each step she took.

  I had learned to hide my emotions, my thoughts, even the details of my life about a year ago. I used to be a trusting kid, but I learned very quickly that not everyone who listened was a friend. Hailey was once my best friend before she blabbed and twi
sted my words around after I’d confided in her, ruining my life.

  “Hi, Stacy,” the nosy secretary greeted Ms. Jacobs when we walked into the main office. “What’s going on here? Imogen at it again?” She asked as she looked curiously at me.

  I gritted my teeth and scowled at the woman. Screw you, I thought.

  “Just girls being girls, Emily.” Ms. Jacobs dodged the question, knowing how much of a gossip the school secretary was. “Is Principal Miller in?”

  “Yep. His door’s open, so go right in,” she said pointing to the door.

  “Thanks.” Ms. Jacobs said before she turned to us. “Sit. And please, don’t speak to each other. Don’t even look at each other, if you can help it.”

  Once she gave her instructions, and we sat several seats apart, Ms. Jacobs walked into the Principal’s office. I watched her disappear into the room and close the door as a sense of dread spread through me. I knew my foster parents were going to hit the roof, especially if they were called into the school. When it came to their foster kids, they never wanted to do more than the bare minimum, other than collect the money they received from the state. I knew that there had to be decent foster homes out there, I just wasn’t lucky enough to be in one of them.

  It didn’t help that I kept getting into trouble, making my situation that much worse. I couldn’t seem to help it, though. I was angry all the time, which led me to lash out at everyone. I was constantly getting into fights with any kid that dared to make fun of me. And I even snapped at teachers, getting me sent straight to the Principal’s office. If people would just stop being assholes, it wouldn’t be a problem, I thought as my knee bounced uncontrollably in a nervous tick.

  Finally, the door to Principal Miller’s office opened and Ms. Jacobs walked out. She looked at Hailey first. “Mr. Miller is ready to see you now, Hailey,” she informed her before she walked towards the main door to head back to the gym. My eyes followed my teacher, and I watched as she slowed down in front of me. “It’ll get better eventually. Just give it time,” she advised before slipping out the door.

  Yeah, sure it will. My thoughts dripped with sarcasm.

  It felt like an eternity and only a few seconds at the same time, as I awaited my turn with the principal. Finally and unfortunately, the door opened, and Hailey walked out with a nasty smirk on her face. I couldn’t even fathom the lies my ex-best friend had told the principal, to get out of getting in trouble.

  “Good luck,” Hailey said snidely.

  “Thanks!” I responded sarcastically. “You might want to put ice on that,” I added sweetly as I pointed to Hailey’s swelling cheek.

  Hailey clutched her face and sped out of the main office. I couldn’t help but feel a smug satisfaction at the distraught look on Hailey’s face. I was pretty sure that the vain girl was going to make her way straight to the girls’ room to check on her precious face. A voice from the door of the Principal’s office pulled my attention away from the fleeing girl.

  “Imogen…you can come in now.” Mr. Miller said with a sigh of resignation.

  His tone didn’t bode well for me. I lifted my chin up in defiance, unwilling to show that I was shaking in my black combat boots. I walked into his office, closed the door, and flopped down in the chair in front of his desk. I reclined back in the chair, with a disrespectful and insolent, ‘I don’t give a damn’ attitude, trying to exude a nonchalance I didn’t feel. The moment Principal Miller spoke his first sentence, the air of indifference I tried to build around me, melted under his unfair assault.

  “Imogen, I knew your mother and father and let me tell you, they’d be so disappointed in your behavior,” he said sadly.

  Tears burned the back of my eyes, like red hot pokers stabbing my eye sockets. I blinked rapidly, trying to keep my tears at bay, fearing embarrassment at showing any weakness. But the image of my once smiling parents flooded my thoughts, and I couldn’t stop them no matter how hard I tried. Fat, warm drops left a salty path down my round freckled cheeks, to the crease of my lips and my trembling chin. I swiped at my tears angrily, but more replaced them only seconds later.

  “I can’t imagine how difficult life is for you right now, having lost both your parents…”

  No, you can’t.

  “…but you can’t go around beating up everyone that says something nasty about them or you…”

  Wanna bet?

  “…In the last year, I’ve seen you in here more times than I care to count. You barely passed your first semester classes, and now you’re failing your second semester. You disrespect your teachers, you fight your classmates. Aren’t you tired of fighting, Ms. Ferris? It’s not going to bring them back. And you can’t keep hiding your pain behind anger,” he finished.

  You have no idea what it’s like! I shouted in my head as I felt more tears stream down my face. Anger is so much easier to handle. If I let the pain take over, I swear I’ll die. You couldn’t possibly understand. None of you can. All you do is judge me.

  Principal Miller looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to respond in some way. I didn’t. I rarely spoke to anyone anymore, unless it was to snap at them. I never tried to defend myself anymore either, because I figured it wouldn’t help my case. No one really listened to me anyway, so I kept my mouth shut and lips tight, preferring to shout at them in my head.

  The Principal waited a few more seconds, and when I didn’t respond, he sighed resolutely and continued.

  “I gave Hailey two weeks of after school detention for what she said to you. But unfortunately, since you decided to lay hands on her, I have to suspend you for two weeks,” he informed me.

  Mentally, I blew out a huge breath and dropped my face into my hands. I knew I was in big trouble. Outwardly, I just continued to look at Principal Miller with flat eyes, a blank face and drying salty tracks on my brown cheeks.

  “When you come back in two weeks, you have a chance of turning this semester around. If not, you could take summer school, and then get your diploma when you’re done. Otherwise, you’ll be right back here for another year as a senior or labeled a high school dropout, if you don’t. You have three choices, so think about it for the next two weeks. And please, Imogen, make the right choice. You’re a bright girl, with a bright future. Don’t mess that up. Make your parents proud.” Mr. Miller tried one last ditch effort to try and get me to reconsider my path.

  I heard him but wasn’t so sure I had enough left in me to care. For me, the future looked bleak when I had absolutely no one. No one to cheer on my milestones and triumphs. Definitely, no one to tend to my mental, physical, and emotional scrapes and bruises when I stumbled and fell. Some days, it was hard for me to put one foot in front of the other. Let alone, think about my uncertain future.

  Principal Miller sighed when he saw that I wasn’t going to say a word. “You can go wait for you foster mom out in the waiting area,” he said, dismissing me.

  I shot out from the chair and strode into the waiting area. I plopped down in the chair I had vacated earlier. The secretary stared at me as if I would get up and do some sort of criminal activity at any moment. I raised my right hand and scratched my temple with my middle finger. The nosy secretary gasped in overdramatic horror.

  “Please, Ms. Ferris, would you refrain from making obscene gestures,” Emily said distastefully, with a pinched face to match.

  “Only if you stop looking at me like I’m a criminal. Didn’t your mother ever teach you it’s impolite to stare?” I shot back in the same condescending tone that the secretary and other adults always used with me.

  The woman’s mouth flapped opened and closed, unable to come back with anything suitable since she had, in fact, been staring. A satisfied smirk spread across my face, but the smug feeling lasted only a few seconds before, Carolyn, my foster monster came bursting through the door.

  I looked up at her, trying to gauge her mood. Over the last year with my foster family, I had cataloged the handful of moods my foster mom had:

  Cac
kling hyena

  Grumpy bear just out of hibernation

  Psychotic honey-badger

  It didn’t take me long to figure out which mood it was.

  Psychotic honey-badger it is, I sighed inwardly.

  Carolyn stormed into Mr. Miller’s office without a word to me or the secretary. My foster mom had been through this several times before, so she didn’t even waste time with pleasantries anymore. Not that she ever really did. After only a few seconds, I heard several curse words, a chair scraping angrily across the floor, and heavy footsteps. Carolyn stormed back out into the main office, after apparently giving the principal a piece of her mind. She looked at me, and I knew that it was my turn.

  “Let’s go…NOW!” Carolyn bellowed.

  She headed for the door, expecting me to follow. Reluctantly, I got up and trailed after her. As we neared Carolyn’s beat up car with mix-matched colored doors, my foster mom stopped to let me pass. As I walked past, she smacked the back of my head. Luckily, my wild natural red curls cushioned the blow, and I barely felt it. Not that my pride didn’t sting a bit.

  Carolyn-0. Red Fro-1, I thought smugly.

  “Get in the fucking car!” Carolyn screeched.

  I followed her order, though I wished I could just disappear instead. Carolyn started the car and then started in on me.

  “I’m so sick of your shit! Every other day, I have to come down to this goddamn school because you’ve done something else. I can’t wait until you’re eighteen in a month, and then I can be rid of you. You’re absolutely worthless. Now I know where the term red-headed stepchild came from because that’s how you act and nobody wants you. God, how did your parents…”

  I blocked out the rest of her hate-filled one-sided conversation. I wonder if I’d survive if I opened the car door while it’s still moving and just did a tuck and roll down the middle of the street? Eh, she’d probably just drive back around and run me over for spite. Or what would she do if I reached over and pulled a chunk of hair outta her skull at this very moment? Okay, maybe that’s a little too much. Maybe I could just interrupt her and tell her that she should really consider plucking her unibrow?