Butterfly Girl

Chapter 3: I, conceited

The world was filled with stories. Stories of love, of comedy, of war. Stories that unfolded with the turn of a page or that existed in photographs as scenes of light and shadows. As someone more (justifiably) pretentious than me had once said: "All the world is a stage".

My dad liked to tell me lots of stories as a child. The types of stories that, due to a later development in my teenagerhood, I had never bothered revisiting again, even if they still popped at the forefront of my thoughts on certain occasions.

And boy, what a perfect occasion for pops' words now was.

'Now, see, this paragraph right here is a lesson of humility. It tells that, in a banquet, you should never sit on the seat of honor. If a person more important than you arrives and you are told to move, it'd be just embarrassing, right? But if you assume a lower place and the host insists there's somewhere better for you, then you'll be honored in front of the other guests.'

'So… 'don't be conceited'?'

'Well, yesn't.'

'What if I sit in the worst place and no one says a thing?'

'Eh―' The clear memory of his verbal tick made me grin. 'If that happens, you are probably the pity guest. Just go home at that point.'

Yeah. My dad could be somewhat of a douchebag.

But, to his original argument, he did have a point.

"Or, did he?"

I really didn't know anymore.

My eyes were focused on the wall. Bai chattered next to me as he wiped the dishes dry, going on about the gardener (or was it the weapons master?), and his tragical, unrequited love towards the milkman's daughter. The one who lived in the village nearest to the temple, 'with the funny looking legs'.

He shook his head in disapproval. I had the strange urge to call him a douchebag.

"Aren't monks supposed to forfeit relationships, anyway?"

More importantly, the mundaneness of the conversation left a bad taste in my mouth.

The day after the incident― in other words, this morning―, I had left my room with the demeanor of a man on death row: Head hung low and stomach turned into knots. And how could this not be the case?

It was a tale as old as time. I had seen my fair share of this troupe in every type of media. A seemingly harmless character (who, to the audience, has enough red flags to supply a communist parade) conveniently forgets relevant information upon arrival, infiltrates the enemy base and befriends its people, only to do an entire 180 personality flip; going full Brutus on all them gullible suckers. Cartoon-based or not, this world, like my own, had to be built upon stories, including stories of betrayal.

They couldn't be this clueless, I thought, fiddling with the contents of my pocket.

Manifesting powers out of nowhere― That had to be the straw to break the camel's back, right?

No way in hell this wouldn't bring some sort of negative consequence: Questions, dirty glances. Mistrust, at the very least.

Yeah.

There had been fuck all of that.

"Miss Eliza." I stared at a friendly-looking monk, who, out of nowhere, had poked his head inside the kitchen through the window. "Did you wash the rags, by any chance?"

"Yes. I left them to dry on the third drying stand further to the right."

"Oh. Next to the blankets?"

"I think so."

He paused, most likely noticing the lack of liveliness in my tone.

"How's your back?" The monk questioned. His smile, though not as soft as Guan's, still managed to radiate an insufferable amount of warmth. "If it still hurts, just tell us. We can concoct you some more medicine if that's what you want."

"What I want."

I wanted to scream inside a pillow.

A few hours later, that's exactly what I did. I placed my face between two pillows, one of which hadn't previously been in my possession, and let out the most beautifully sonorous screech that I'd ever made.

Eventually running out of breath, I looked down at my hands, focusing on some stubborn specks of green paint that still clung under my nails.

A single thought began playing on repeat.

I needed to speak with Guan again.

Barely slithering through the dense tree crowns, the midday sun cast abstract shaped shadows upon the dark soil, cooling and protecting the surroundings from the relentless, summer glow. This, Wuya noticed as she stared at the ground.

Maybe it would finally stop her companion from constantly complaining about the heat.

"Have I mentioned that I'm not a nature kind of person?" Jack Spicer grimaced, slapping a mosquito away from his face. "Because I'm not."

He had mentioned it. Several times, as a matter of fact, between interludes that lasted, on average, fifteen minutes given or taken.

Not that she was counting or anything.

"Cease your whining." Wuya snapped, floating just a couple of meters at the very front. "If my memory doesn't fail me, we should be close by."

"And what if your memory is failing you?" The teen grumbled. "You're a few thousand years old, ya know?"

Ticked off as she felt, Wuya didn't respond. Although neither did she warn him of a cobweb hanging just a couple of steps ahead, directly in their trajectory.

The Heylin witch didn't contain her grin as a sudden bout of screaming and wheezing came from behind.

Ah, the small pleasures of life.

"Where are we going, anyway?" Jack asked through a gag once he regained his breath. They had been walking for hours, yet Wuya kept silent about her intentions, even as they reached darker and more distant parts inside the forest.

Which, to be honest, was starting to worry him a bit. Maybe even significantly.

Not that he'd admit to that.

For the first time in hours, the spirit raised her head, barely staring in his direction.

"To a monster den." She simply said.

A hand on his chin, Jack Spicer nodded in understanding.

"Oh. Alright."

It took a few seconds, but, much to her irritation, the realization did finally hit him like a sack of bricks.

(Only metaphorically speaking, to everyone's shame, Wuya thought).

His eyes, wide past their limits, were directed at the witch in an impressive show of utter disbelieve.

"Wait, what?! A- a monster den?" He squealed, voice a few decibels higher than what could be considered safe listening to. His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. "That's the kind of thing that goes with a warning, you know?!"

"Then you wouldn't have come." She answered casually, not an ounce of shame present in her words.

The teen sputtered.

"Why are we even going to a monster den!?"

"To find a monster, Jack."

"You know what I mean!"

Wuya sighed, aggravated. For a second, it looked like Jack would point out the unfairness of this gesture but ultimately refrained at her glare.

"There's been sightings of a cyclops around these parts." The witch huffed. "If we can get our hands on them, then collecting the rest of the Shen Gon Wu will be a piece of cake!"

A thick silence descended between them. She should have known it wouldn't last long.

"Wha―" The boy squeaked, and he barely avoided tripping on flat terrain. "Um. Hello?" He gestured violently in the air. "What about my Jack-bots?"

"What about them?"

"I just― Why do we need to find more minions? My Jack-bots already do the heavy lifting by themselves!"

"Your bots have been useless until now, haven't they? We are doing things my way now!"

Wuya rubbed her hands in anticipation. It didn't matter what anyone said: Nothing could beat the old school methods of evil.

Her companion didn't seem to agree.

The teen gasped as he stopped walking, looking genuinely offended.

"We are doing things my way now." He mimicked mockingly under his breath.

Hearing something that sounded suspiciously like a growl, Jack flinched and raised his hands in surrender.

Wuya returned her attention to the task at hand, a frown still in place, albeit for different reasons. Cyclopes weren't creatures of subtlety. The destruction they left on their wake generally betrayed their presence: Footprints that branded the ground for days, broken tree barks and rock formations, fluids of dodgy origin that coated the surfaces.

(Which, coincidentally, were also a complete nightmare to clean).

Not that this last point would be any of her concern, with Jack at her beck and call.

"Maybe those farmers were wrong?"

Then again, with no master to tame them, cyclops could be rather whimsical creatures. Additionally, their resilience and height allowed them to travel great distances throughout the day.

Still―

"There should be at least some signals if it passed through here."

Those idiots had probably pointed her in the wrong direction.

"Um. Wuya? I hate to interrupt you when you're looking so grump― uh, busy." His voice broke at different intervals, somehow managing to sound even more cowardly than usual. "But, ah, I think we should get back."

"No."

And that was that.

Or at least, it should've been.

"Wuya." Jack insisted, irritation intermingling with panic, his head twitching repeatedly for no apparent reason. "I really, really think we should get out of here."

That's when Wuya noticed: Jack's sudden mannerisms had a purpose. His head bobbed in a particular direction, pointing not far from where they'd been headed.

The specter caught a flash amidst the darkened foliage.

Her eyes narrowed to slits. She began floating away, directly towards their stalker.

"Hey!" The teen whispered harshly. "Where do you think you're going!?"

His question was left unanswered. Jack took a hesitant step forward.

"Wuya?"

A howl resounded throughout the forest. Jack screamed along with it.

"Of course."

These two words had echoed inside my mind throughout the day, with little variance to speak of. It made me wonder if there existed a specific concept that could accurately summarize what I was currently feeling. Perhaps it did exist― in another language, that was. In any case, I had no knowledge of it, and therefore I couldn't help but think again:

"Of course."

My hand twitched, inching to the edge of the mat, before retiring rapidly under the covers.

Glaring at the ceiling, I squeezed the pillow in my arms with all the rage accumulated in the last 48 hours. It was a nice pillow, to say the least, and the best one out of the six I'd hoarded.

Inconsiderate? Maybe so. Then again, I couldn't be bothered to feel guilty right now.

Some people had comfort eating, binge drinking, or stress-sleeping as their coping mechanisms. I liked to lay on cushions like a dragon on its pile of gold. And goddammit if I didn't need all the comfort I could get.

It had been as if the stars had aligned with the sole purpose of throwing bullshit after bullshit at me.

Everything began with a tree; one that bore apple-sized cherries. A tree that, somehow, against all logic and possibility, had been drawn by little old me into existence.

"You know," I spoke to the empty room. "If I'd wanted to relive some arbitrary part of my childhood as an uninspired, dollar store Mary Sue, I'd have asked. I didn't ask."

Unsurprisingly, there was no response to my words.

There had been no response to my actions either.

An hour after my first display of powers ―an event which I now referred to as 'the incident'―, Guan had met me in the infirmary.

'Had you forgotten about your powers as well?' His question, free of any hostility or accusation, remained at the forefront of my mind.

'I didn't know I had them.' Had been my sincere answer, not in a mood to lie.

'It's a good thing you were not hurt. Do not worry about the damages. We will have them repaired in no time.'

At that time, I hadn't known what to say. The conversation came to an end and I was walked back to my room, my previous decision forgotten.

His nonchalance had astounded me. Yet it didn't amaze me as much as everyone's unconcern did.

"Perhaps 'amaze' is the wrong word."

If I had to be honest, the lack of reaction pissed me off. For petty reasons, mostly.

And, despite everything, it remained the lesser of my problems at the time.

Not even half a day had passed since 'the incident' when a very much familiar ―and very much unwelcome― tugging sensation made itself known in the lower parts of my abdomen.

"Weak as a stick? Check. Blind as a bat? Check? My inners slowly strangling themselves to death? Absolutely checked."

Hui― God? ― whichever power had the reigns to my pathetic life, couldn't even be bothered with making me a proper Mary Sue. No wonder the monks weren't alarmed at my newly found powers. I wouldn't have been afraid of me either.

And Guan was gone.

'What kind of leader would leave at such an important time?' Asked literally anyone with a brain cell and a half.

Well―

Let's just say, it had become clear to me why the fate of this world was constantly left in the hands of literal children.

The door slid open. Guessing the identity of my visitor, I buried myself further into the cocoon of blankets and feathers.

"I brought you another heating pad," Bai informed me, sounding as awkward as he probably looked, and only got closer when I signaled him to do so. Were I in a better mood, this would've been almost amusing.

Pity this could not be the case.

"Uh." The monk stuttered. "Is there anything else you need?"

"Yes. I need to know why the lot of you are such colossal morons."

"… I could get you some chocolate?" He tried despite the silence.

The smallest of smiles twitched its way to my face. I felt almost tempted to remind myself that I was still mad.

Damn, was I tired of being mad. Chocolate sounded nice.

"We could go take a walk later. You've been here for almost two days."

My smile dropped. Nevermind, I thought.

"No."

"Well, what will you do then?" He groaned. "Make a pillow fortress and sulk inside of it the whole afternoon?"

"I'm not sulking."

"Liz―"

"I'm. Not. Sulking."

Something in my words made him pause and then grimace. The gears behind his eyes seemed to turn. He gulped, looking as if he were preparing to feed a rabid raccoon by hand, which caused me to roll my eyes.

Did he really think that I would chew his head off just for being on my period?

More importantly, would anyone blame me if I did?

"What if I say I have a deal for you?" He began, tantalizing. "We can go to the village and I'll get you an ice-cream."

"Am I a kid?" I snorted. "Why would I go all the way down there, in pain, to get ice-cream out of all things?"

"Not a kid." He scoffed. "You sure are behaving like one."

I threw a pillow at him. He avoided it with ease, the prick.

"Chocolate, Ice-cream. What's with that, anyway? Are you taking some sort of advice from a teenage magazine?" I sat on the mat, stretching an arm behind my back. The lack of an answer made me frown. My eyes cracked open to Bai's scrunched up face, looking like someone who had just swallowed a cup of nails.

Why the hell did he glare like that?

It then hit me like a sledgehammer.

"No way."

Mouth falling in comprehension, I gazed up at him, disbelieve evident on my face. I tried to regain my composure. Tried. And succeded for about six seconds, I think. before bending over and cackling. "Oh, boy. Oh, boy! You actually are! You're such a massive dork!"

Bai, in an impressive demonstration of an evasion maneuver, turned around as he prepared to leap. His body aimed towards the open window.

"Wait! Wait, don't go!" I hugged his arm as he attempted to leave. "I changed my mind. Let us go to the village! I don't want ice-cream, though. Can we get one of those crepé looking things from last time? They looked super good!"

"No." He spat, throwing my previous refusal right back at me. I tugged at the limb harder and my grin eased into a smile. Bai scoffed. "Don't look at me like that. I'm not Master Guan, I'm not going to budge."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

He did budge. Of course he did.

I had been in the village only on a few occasions since my arrival in this world, not for any lack of curiosity, although I didn't have much of an incentive to leave the temple in the first place. This village, in addition, was way, way too far away. Putting my baby-pouch's current murder attempt aside, even if the Xiaolin monks had no problem going down the mountain several times a day, I had become way too fond of my legs during the twenty-two years of my life to do them dirty like that.

Hence, humiliating as is was, I didn't complain when Bai got on one knee to show me his back, signaling me to get on.

Rows of trees― Redwood? Cedar? Not that I knew― bordered the path we followed, leading to several hectares of forest. Like a horse on a merry-go-round, Bai's body bobbed as he navigated the uneven terrain, causing me to bounce and tighten my grip on his neck.

Just as one does with horses, you know?

He didn't appreciate the comparison. Not even the second time.

"I haven't had anyone giving me a piggyback ride since I was, like, seven." The thought, bittersweet, made me smile against my arm. Feeling me move, Bai adjusted his position to fit mine in a way that almost resembled an afterthought.

The subtlety of his gentleness made me pause―

Something pooled in my stomach: A concoction of indescribable feelings that didn't quite feel right nor wrong.

A kind of guilt, but not quite.

"Bai―" I began. He paused and so did I. The right words escaped me, almost forgotten, and as I considered brainstorming them anew, something peculiar caught my attention. "Hey." His shoulders felt as hard as stone beneath my hands, tense. With a sickening crack that made me worry, Bai's head twisted to the right to face the forest. My eyes followed. I didn't see anything out of place.

But the intensity of his gaze felt wrong.

To be honest, it freaked me out. Not as much as his next actions did, though.

Finally, after what appeared to be an eternity, the monk let out a breath of relief. His fingers on my legs uncurled, and only then did I notice he had tightened his grip on them in the first place.

He hopped over a rock and continued walking, sauntering like a mountain lion with not a worry in the world. The previous events, evidently, had been erased from his mind.

I gaped at him. Incredulous didn't really cover it.

As if sensing my stare, he explained: "I thought I felt something looking at us. A green shadow. It was just a bird."

This didn't make me feel better. Nevertheless, I nodded, settling my head back on the crook of his neck.

From afar, I saw a lightning strike.

It was crazy to think that there had been simpler times once. Simpler kinds of evil, too. Strange to think that, not too long ago, he'd have found himself build ing and planning the days away in his laboratory; any thoughts of the supernatural too foreign, too far away, for his genius, rational mind to even consider.

"Will you get off of me now!?"

The creature: Red, small, pointy-eared, and very much attached to his waist, wailed even harder. Jack Spicer cringed and shivered, sticking both of his pinky fingers inside his ears as he gave Wuya a helpless look.

The witch mouthed something and then sighed, visibly irritated. She pointed at the side of her head with a spectral arm. Getting the message, the teen's hands fell back in place.

"Give it a minute. It'll grow tired and leave."

Jack nodded in a rare display of gratefulness. Then, ten minutes more passed.

The creature's babbles, sporadic in their ways, became more and more incomprehensible as streams of tears and… something― he chose to ignore what it was― ran down its face. Jack considered giving it a pat on the back but thought better of it.

"What even is… this?"

"It's a goblin." She said with distaste, chewing the word and spitting it out. "They're barely little more than a pest. Even someone like you could take on a couple of them."

Jack perked up. "Really?"

"With your bots, I mean."

His shoulders sagged.

The goblin chimed in with nothing intelligible, squeezing the teen a bit tighter to its body. Jack's felt his patience snap. He glowered at the creature.

"Seriously, what even is your deal?!"

He just wanted to go home, eat the pie granny had left for him in the fridge and take a bath. He admitted this much out loud.

"Alright, alright!" The Heylin witch rolled her eyes. "We'll get nowhere today anyway."

Wuya faced the whimpering beast. Her gaze traveled down, up, then down again. Her eyes narrowed, considering, gleaming in the darkened forest with the intensity of a woman with a mission. Suddenly interested, Jack tried to ignore the dampness beginning to seep through the fabric of his coat.

He wondered what she had in mind.

With a decisive nod, Wuya straightened in preparation―

―and floated right through the goblin's body.

The creature tensed, then shivered, before immediately jumping away from the duo. It squealed all the way to its landing, after which he scampered inside the bushes. They stood still, waiting in silence. It had disappeared for good.

"Done!" Wuya exclaimed proudly. Her head snapped at Jack's disappointed groan and she shot him a dirty look. "What's the problem?"

"Nothing." He cleared his throat.

Honestly, he was more than ready for the day to end. The outing, which he had been led to believe to be brief, had taken the whole morning and half of the afternoon. So much had yet to be done back at the lab. More planning, more assembling, coming up with ways to fill his steadily drying bank account.

(This last one really needed to be prioritized, he thought.)

Empty-handed, they began making their way back, background noise changing from the thrill of birds to the constant chirping of crickets as time passed. Jack rubbed his shoulder and groaned. His back was killing him.

He fiddled with his goggles, activating night vision after the second time he tripped on an unseen root.

"You know." He began after a while, motivated by the need to fill the growing silence, his boredom at a boiling point. There was no answer. It didn't really deter him. "It was a bit pitiful."

"What was pitiful?" Asked Wuya, disinterested.

"The goblin thing. I think his girl left him or something. He went on and on about a woman."

"You seriously understood that thing?"

Jack ignored her rude tone and hummed "Looked like he had it bad. Called her a goddess, too."

The air surrounding them turned cold; colder than it had previously been. The witch had stopped in the middle of the road. "Did she notice something interesting?" A shiver went up his spine and Jack rubbed the side of his neck, confused.

"What?" Wuya's voice sounded strained, gritty, as if afflicted with a bad case of the sniffles.

"He called her a 'Goddess' and 'Dark Lady' and all the weird stuff. Seems like a really bad break-up, doesn't it? It's kinda like―."

Jack shut his mouth as he looked back at the witch. The force with which he had done so hurt his teeth.

He didn't like the way she looked at him. No― the way she looked past him.

"…Wuya?" His call came hesitant, almost nervous. Jack swallowed and forced a snicker. "Hey, what's the matter? Are the millennia finally catching up to you?"

It was as if a spell was broken.

She shook her head, the way one does when getting rid of a ridiculous idea and pinned the boy with a glare.

The witch hissed, "Be quiet." But her voice, tamer than usual, did nothing to quell his anxiety. Forgoing his false bravado, Jack opened his mouth to ask her what was wrong, only for Wuya to turn around and drift away.

He stood there, dumbfounded.

Then, he realized that he had been left behind.

"Hey!" Jack shouted and hurried after her. "I don't know the way back!"

The world was filled with stories. As far as I was concerned, mine has never been an interesting tale: It all begins with a girl, born in an unencumbered family of immigrants, who likes to dream of silly things. Growing up, she faces some problems (as one typically does), manages not to royally screw up (as one would typically hope not to), and is able to reach her twenties with minimal damage done to everyone involved.

Moving out, now a woman, she's lucky and― dare she say? ― functional enough not to end up fighting pigeons for stale breadcrumbs on a sidewalk in Ottawa. She has hopes for a future no worse than this. That's pretty much it. Although mediocre in a way, life is good.

In short: There has never been a place for her in the grand scheme of things. For me, I mean. I've always been fine with that.

Perhaps I was still unimportant. Maybe, just maybe, I had rushed into conclusions.

A world filled with reality changing artifacts, children that fought as living weapons, random-ass mimes with superpowers... surely my own abilities couldn't be that impressive? I could still consider myself out of the bigger picture. No one saw me as a threat because I wasn't one. For sure, It had been some sort of hubris that had made me think otherwise.

Brushing a strand of long, damp hair behind my ear, I closed the door to my bedroom. Bai had been right for once: The change of scenery had proven to be good, even if the rain had cut our outing short.

I stood still, silent, listening for any kind of activity outside. Nothing. My hands trembled with anticipation. I fiddled with the contents of my pockets, the way I had done the whole day. A crinkle, that sounded way too loud in the empty room, made me pause yet again. The same strange feeling from before threatened to resurge.

"Too late for any regrets now." It was going big or going home. I retrieved the hidden knickknack out of my robe.

A square sheet wax paper stained my fingers with grease. Although grumbling and mumbling, Bai had, in fact, delivered as promised: The crepé had been delicious, if not a bit too salty. He had commented on this, I remembered.

'Aren't women supposed to like sweet foods?'

This question, of course, had been met with my elbow to his ribs. The fact that he was this much of a loveable moron made me feel bad for my decisions.

Not bad enough, of course.

Cautiously, I raised the corner of my mat, in that slow, painful way people choose to stupidly rip off bandaids sometimes. A slight peek followed this operation, pursued by a sigh of relief. The piece of charcoal I had retrieved from the kitchen that morning remained in its place. Its acquirement had been impulsive. I couldn't say the same about the rest of my actions.

"I feel like a criminal."

But I wasn't, right? At least, the monks didn't seem to think so.

The piece of charcoal, now pressed against the paper's surface, became a lot lighter in my hand. I paused to think for a bit, deciding on something familiar to begin with.

A flick of my wrist followed another. "Cherry-flavored apple.". The thought reverberated with intent. I echoed it to the walls, just in case.

Placing the finished drawing on the floor, I waited, apprehensive, but the smudged imitation of the heart-shaped fruit remained unmoving, much to my growing frustration.

In a last-ditch effort, I added a leaf to its stem. It did absolute Jack.

The idea of bashing my forehead against the floor seemed suddenly very, very attractive to me.

Had I actually been worried about nothing? "I swear, if it actually was the watercolors this whole time ―" What a waste of perfectly good angst that'd be, I thought, totally not bitter about my failure.

Throwing my head back, I looked towards the sky. The ceiling. Whatever. Ready to shake my fist at the Great Goddess Hui in demand for compensation. However, this proved to be unnecessary. The momentum my impromptu prayer position had required forced my two remaining brain cells together. Out of the sudden, an incredible idea sucker-punched me in the face.

With renewed hope, I took the drawing in both hands, and proceeded to rip it in half. Everything else happened in a blink.

The ribbons gained a mind of their own; that was the only way I could describe it. Attracted to each other as if they were magnets, they twisted and melded into each other. Steam raised and disappeared as matter reshaped itself before my very eyes. It became translucent at first, then red, the color suddenly budding from its center before spreading outwards.

Where there had been nothing, I now stared at an apple on the floor.

Picking it up, it didn't feel any different than a normal apple. Same texture, same weight.

I brought the apple to my nose and inhaled.

Yep, still an apple.

It did hit me how ridiculous this must've looked from the outside.

"If it smells like charcoal, looks like charcoal, and feels like charcoal, then it's probably fruit."

I took a bite out of it and chewed. Crispy and juicy, I thought. Too crispy, in truth.

My head was out of the window in no time.

It tasted like cherry, alright, if people blended cherries whole, pit included. The air rushed to greet my face. I faced down and spat on the ground, beholding the resulting fruity mush with a grimace. Dark spots of debris were scattered inside the paste. Charcoal bits, I realized, were embedded in the apple's white flesh.

"Well, that's interesting." I managed to croak out around a grimace.

The caw of a bird caught my attention. A crow, perched on the tree that stood just in front of my window, stared at me with curious, beady black eyes. For some reason, the owl of the movie Labyrinth came to my mind. I frowned. Checking quickly that no one was outside, I tossed the rest of the apple to the garden. It rolled and disappeared under the foliage. Startled, the crow cawed again, flapping its wings. It ogled at me with something I decided to be disapproval.

"Sorry," I said, sheepish. The strange need to apologize made this statement sincere.

Stepping aside, I closed the window, making a mental note to stash the charcoal piece again.

A/N: Oof, I think this chapter was very difficult for me to write, to convey what I wanted to convey. I had to rewrite the last part so a future event would make sense, too. I'm kinda setting the scene right now. I won't take much longer.

Guest I: Welp, I'm glad you like the beginning and the fact that she's an adult. I'll do my best to make this an interesting story!

Guest II: I think it's alright if I spoil this one, since it will never be truly confirmed in the story, only speculated: It's indeed because she's a person from the "real world", but what exactly her powers are will be better explained as the story progresses.

Guest III: Samuel is someone very dear to her, for reasons explained later, but he's not her son. He's family, though.

Guest IV: Cool! My chapters usually have a length between 3000 and 6000 words. It's one hell of a gap, so just heads up, hah!

Noface: Haha, nostalgia is contagious like that. I personally never watched Chronicles… I did watch the clip in which Chase lays an egg and then cries so… yah, I don't think Chronicles is for me :P

Scarlettravencrow: Thanks! And you bet!

HarmonyGirl567: Done!