Crisanta Knight: The Liar, The Witch, & The Wormhole

An old woman stood in the middle of a forest facing a massive cave. A large stone blocked the cave’s opening. The woman had gray, wavy hair like unraveled yarn and a complexion like raw chicken.

Behind her were seven men. I instantly recognized them as magic hunters. This elder facing the cave was clearly their prisoner.

The woman’s blue eyes were wide with dread and her cracked lips quivered. “I am warning you one last time,” she said, pivoting. “Moving this stone will bring you nothing but destruction. He is too powerful. You are no match.”

The magic hunters were unmoved. “Open it,” a hunter with a red scarf said curtly. “We’ll see who is outmatched.”

Shaking with nervousness, the old woman turned to face the stone blocking the cave once more. Slowly, she brought her hands up and placed them on its unnaturally smooth surface. After a few moments the stone began to emanate a pale green glow. As the viridescence increased, the cave trembled. The old woman seemed petrified, as if a monster was about to be set free.

If this was the case, I did not get to witness it. My dreams shifted to a different setting. Century City.

I was running. Screaming and crashing sounds emanated from behind me, but I did not look back. I continued racing through the streets until I reached a familiar outdoor market—the one my friends and I had passed through the night we found our first Portalscape Portal.

People were in panic everywhere trying to escape from something, but I didn’t know what. Tents and stalls tipped over. Antiques crashed against the pavement. Barrels, sacks, and crates fell in my path like roadblocks. I kept going—leaping, bobbing, and weaving through everything with my eyes trained on one thing. A mirror. It was in the window of an antiques store, but not the same one as before. I knew I needed to get to it.

A net abruptly launched on top of me. Everything was dark; my world had been consumed by an obsidian void that concealed the rest of the scene, but I felt the ropes tighten against my skin. The net began to be yanked back, pulling me along with it.

Suddenly I was underwater. The net was gone and Daniel was below me, being dragged into the darkness by something that had him by the ankle.

I swam after him. Faster and faster I kicked. Deeper and deeper I dove. The waters were blackening with every passing second and I was losing him. Desperately I reached out until . . .

I was in one of the Lost Boys and Girls’ bunkers, but I was alone. I guess the kids were early risers. Out of the corner of my eye I saw something twinkle behind a bed.

A trio of bashful fairies showed themselves. They floated over to me, smiling happily.

With a yawn and a rub of my eyes, I stood and stretched. Something tugged on the hem of my skirt, and I looked down to see a fourth fairy trying to get my attention.

The fairy flew up to join the other three. The four of them whirred around excitedly, their wings changing from pink to green to yellow as they gestured upward.

“All right,” I said as I ran my fingers through my hair and cracked my knuckles. “I can take a hint. It’s time to get up.”

I rose to ground level with my fairy posse. It was a beautiful day. Sunlight streamed through the trees, permeating the leafy cover of the camp in golden streaks. The campers were already up and about. Lost Boys and Girls ate, dueled, flew, and played.

Peter came flying over to me with a big grin on his face. “Good. They got you up.”

“She says you’re a heavy sleeper,” Peter translated. The fairy flashed her wings white twice, then red and blue once. Peter laughed. “And that you talk in your sleep.”

“I’m aware,” I said. “Thanks for the wake-up call. I was so tired I might’ve slept the whole day. I guess I should go find my friends. Have you seen them?”

Peter nodded. “That’s why I sent the fairies to get you,” he explained. “Your friends are getting a flying lesson and they didn’t want you to miss out.”

When I arrived at the cliffs where my friends were standing, I wasn’t sure if I was more fascinated by the gorgeous view of the forest below or the fact that Blue was presently flying across the sky at full speed. She was soaring with two Lost Girls. Her smile was so wide she could’ve given the Cheshire Cat a run for his money.

“This is amazing!” she said as she did a backflip in the air. “You guys gotta try it!”

“Look who decided to join us,” Daniel said. “Have a nice sleep, did you?”

“Yeah, lovely as always,” I said as I approached the cliff ’s edge. “I see you guys wasted no time in taking advantage of the perks Neverland has to offer.”

“Figured we might as well since we’re stuck her here til tomorrow morning,” Jason responded.

“Hey, this is Neverland—not the alleyway behind a fried fish restaurant,” Peter commented. “Being stuck here isn’t exactly something you should be bummed about.”

“Don’t take it personally, Pete,” I said. “We’re just on a deadline. We’ve only got five more sunsets until the Vicennalia Aurora.”

“Well, try to have fun today anyway,” Peter said. “I get the whole ‘save the world’ mumbo jumbo. But since you can’t do anything about it now, you should enjoy your time here. You guys are kids too, you know, even if you have big responsibilities. Try acting like it. At least every now and then.”

Peter winked and jumped off the cliff. He fell from sight for a moment then zoomed into the sky and disappeared in the clouds.

“Back to business,” said the Lost Girl named Madison, who we’d met previously. “Like you saw with your friend Blue, once the fairy dust has been applied, you just need to concentrate really hard on wonderful thoughts—those things that fill your heart completely and utterly with happiness and joy—then scrunch your nose and we have liftoff. Are the rest of you ready to try?”

Glittering bits of magic that looked like gleaming snowflakes rained down. The instant each sparkle touched our skin, it evaporated, leaving a feeling of warmth and lightness. I scrunched up my nose and focused on thoughts of joy.

After a few beats, SJ started to float off the ground, followed by Daniel. They grinned at one another and joined Blue in the air. Jason and I, however, seemed unable to rise. No matter how hard we tried, we stayed grounded.

The magic should have worked the same for everyone, so I assumed the problem lay with us. Honestly it made sense. This magic required completely joyful thoughts to work, and it was tough to keep those in my head for very long. I had plenty of happy memories, but each came with the price of being reminded of a responsibility or heartache.

If I thought of childhood fun—games of tag and chase, exploring the tunnels beneath my castle, learning to use a sword for the first time—it reminded me of Alex. Thinking of the first time I rode a Pegasus reminded me of the pain of getting my prologue prophecy. Making the Twenty-Three Skidd team at Lord Channing’s caused me to think about how I never got to play a match because of the magic hunter attack. It was all very depressing.

My feet were firmly planted on the dirt while my friends flew about in front of me. I glanced over at Jason. He was equally stuck. It wasn’t hard to figure out why. Despite his generally optimistic outlook, it must’ve been difficult to let joy overflow his system when he knew the details of his not-too-distant death. As with me, his happiness was found in moments, not in the long term.

Madison flew in close and studied us for a second. “Hmph,” she mumbled. “I haven’t seen this in a while. Your good thoughts are being stifled. You have so many dark ones that they’re weighing you down like an anchor. That’s why you can’t fly. The unhappy thoughts aren’t letting the wonderful ones take over. You can’t completely let go.”

The other Lost Girl—Tiffany, I think—nodded in agreement. “Madison’s right. Joyful thoughts create feelings of light-hearted, high-spiritedness inside you, which cause your body to become light and rise higher. If your soul is too heavy, then it can’t achieve this state. Looks like you’re grounded. For now, anyway.”

“Hey, no big deal, Crisa,” Blue said after an awkward beat. “You’ve got magical powers, so you don’t need fairy dust. Just enchant a rock or something and you and Jason can join us up here on your own private hoverboard.”

“My powers are still exhausted from Sleepy Hollow,” I replied. “They probably won’t be recharged until later tonight.”

“Right. Well, maybe a little rest for you is a good thing,” Blue said steadily. “We’ll probably face a lot of wacko monsters and antagonists in Camelot, which means we’ll need you working at full magical capacity.”

I nodded, appreciating her diplomatic, silver-lined response. “Yeah, I think I’ll just go hang out with the kids back at camp.”

“You sure you’re okay?” Blue asked him. “Is something bothering you? Crisa can be angsty sometimes, but you’re usually so upbeat. I’m surprised you can’t fly either.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He shrugged. “I’m having an off day. Now go on and take a good soar for us,” he said, putting his arm around my shoulder. “We landlubbers have other things to do.”

Jason and I were left standing on the cliff ’s edge as our friends bolted into the clouds. We started walking back to camp. A squirrel appeared on our path. It had a piece of wood in its mouth. Seeing it reminded me of that floating beaver in Limbo, chewing on his bark.

I glanced sideways at Jason. It had felt really good embracing my Limbo realizations with Blue and Alex last night. I was ready to continue the trend.

Jason stopped and gave me a confused look. “What are you talking about?” he said. “I’m going to die by that river. You saw it.”

“Crisa,” he said dejectedly. “Your visions come true. They always come true. It’s not like with Liza’s prologue prophecies where there can be multiple interpretations. Your dreams show the future exactly for what it is. Another way is impossible.”

“Impossible is irrelevant,” I said firmly. “Just look at where we are, Jason. Look at what we’ve done and seen. Fairies and headless horsemen and flying kids and zombie scarecrows. We live in a world of impossible things and impossible people, but we accept them as fact every day. Our very origins make us impossible. I mean, beanstalks that grow through the sky and slippers made of glass comfortable enough to dance in? If we can believe in all those impossible things, what makes you so certain that we can’t change the future I’ve seen?”

Jason stared at me for a long while. There was a forlorn look in his eyes that was hard to read. After a moment, he fixed his gaze on the ground. “Crisa, I get what you’re saying, but I don’t . . . I don’t want to get my hopes up. Hope is—”

“A dangerous thing,” I finished. “I know. But it’s also a powerful thing. I haven’t given up hope that we can save you, Jason, and neither should you. We can do the impossible, because we already are the impossible.”

Jason and I locked eyes. After a long moment, he squeezed my shoulder and gave me a small smile. “I’m going to find Thaddeus,” he said. “I promised I’d show him some moves with my axe.” He started to walk away but glanced back before stepping through the trees. “I don’t know if I’m willing to bet on the impossible here, Crisa. But I would bet on you. So if you think there is a way, then I’m not going to give up hope either.”

I headed into the woods, intending to wander around aimlessly for a while. However, as I was passing through a particularly dense area of the forest, I suddenly fell through a giant hole in the ground that had been concealed beneath a false carpet of branches and leaves—some sort of animal trap.

I plummeted five feet, but grabbed hold of one of the vines on the side of the ditch before I fell the remaining ten. I began pulling myself up, but the vine started to break. My fingers reached for the edge of the pit.

The vine tore. I grasped for the dirt in desperate reflex, but someone grabbed my hand before I could fall. I looked up to see Arthur.

“Hold on,” he said, blue eyes shining. “I’ve got you. Give me your other hand.”

As he reached down, his sleeve was pushed up and I spotted a birthmark on the skin of his left forearm—a cross with a star-shaped freckle in the top right quadrant.

Arthur pulled me up and out of the pit. Dude must’ve had a lot of upper body strength. He lifted me as if I weighed nothing at all, which definitely wasn’t true after last night’s feast.

“Not quite luck, just good timing,” Arthur replied. “This is my trap. There is a large bear that’s been posing a danger to some of the children. I was coming to see if I’d captured it.”

Arthur shrugged. “According to Peter, you’re a formidable opponent. So I suppose I will still count that as a win.”

I grinned. “I’m glad to see that even after a royal becomes a king, he never fully outgrows that prince charming quality.”

“And I am glad to know that a girl called Knight lives up to the name in more ways than one. Your friends’ stories about you at the feast the other night gave me the impression that you are exceptionally brave. And when I went into town yesterday, I heard talk of a young lady matching your description who saved a storyteller at Once Upon a Tavern. The story goes that she stood up to Hook without hesitation in order to protect a man she didn’t even know.”

“Stories are sometimes embellished,” I said. “Honestly, that was nothing. Anybody would’ve done the same.”

“No, Crisanta. They wouldn’t have. But the fact that you believe that says more about your character than I think you realize. You are honorable—a trait that is increasingly rare. And that, in truth, is one of the reasons why I have been so forthcoming with you and your friends about Excalibur and how to claim it.”

Arthur gestured to a nearby log. It was overgrown with moss and had a few mushrooms sprouting from it. He sat on one end and indicated for me to take the spot across from him. I acquiesced. It was weird that he was treating me like an equal since he was a king and a legend, but I felt comfortable talking with him. He was kind and direct, his presence authoritative and strong, yet warm and compelling.

“There are many challenges and dangers involved with trying to reach Excalibur; hence why no one has claimed the sword in the seven years since I was killed,” Arthur said. “But there is also another reason no one has succeeded. None of them were meant to. I mentioned last night that one of Merlin’s most well-known prophecies is the Great Lights Prophecy. However, there is more to it than what I have said.”

“A game of four kings

Three of them lost

A struggle for the realm

Where one king pays the cost.

This fate will be forged

By one Knight alone

Born of royal blood

Heir to the lion’s throne.

The Oath pledged to Camelot’s king

Endowed with the quest

And blessed by the Boar’s Mouth

With strength to pass the test.

The Lake shall be crossed

And the Sword will be found

To the rightful king returned

When Great Lights strike the ground.”

“I learned about all the Wonderlands during my studies as a young man,” Arthur said. “I acquired knowledge on their customs, structures, and rulers. It may have been a long time ago, but in my studies of Book, I now distantly remember learning that the rulers of the kingdom called Midveil were the Knight family. And if I recall correctly, their symbol was a lion.”

“I used to think that the Knight of the prophecy was one of my Knights of the Round Table,” Arthur continued. “But after meeting you, I now believe that the ‘Knight’ mentioned in the prophecy is not a title but a name. Your name. You are literally a Knight of royal blood. More than that, you are exceptionally honorable and have that most precious thing—the heart of a hero. With the Great Lights meant to strike in a few days, I suspect that you, Crisanta Knight, might be the one destined to retrieve Excalibur and return it to me once you have finished utilizing it for your quest.”

I didn’t know how Arthur expected me to react to this, but all I could manage was, “You’ve got to be joking.”

“I thought I would do you the kindness of having this conversation with you in private. I can sense that you are not a fan of attention. Am I correct?”

Embarrassed, I nodded. Then I let out a weighty sigh. “Most people used to write me off because they didn’t expect anything great from me. That hurt at times, but I liked being left alone. Now though—between my magic, my visions, and my prophecy—sometimes I feel like people talk about me all the time. It makes me feel uncomfortable, especially around . . . certain people. So yeah, I do appreciate you not announcing to the entire room that apparently I might be destined to retrieve Excalibur too.”

“I figured as much,” Arthur replied. “Although I would advise you not to be so reluctant in the future. Humility and insecurity are easily confused in the heart, but reap two very different results in the soul.”

“You don’t understand,” I said, shaking my head. “The crazier things get, the more people seem to look to me to lead. I don’t have a problem with that. I’m good at thinking on my feet and making plans, and I actually like being a leader. But since it happens so often, I feel kind of awkward about the attention it gets me and how it affects my friends. I don’t want to overshadow their abilities and valor. One of them is already super ticked off at me for hogging the spotlight. I’d like to not push them away any further if I can help it.”

Arthur gave me a stern but sympathetic look. “Hiding who you are for the service of others is no more beneficial to them than it is to you, Crisanta,” he said. “You cannot be afraid to step into the light, even if it means you stand in it alone. Oftentimes that is the price of being a leader. And that, I assure you, is something I understand more than most.”

Here I am complaining about the price of being a leader to the king of Camelot. This guy used to lead one of the most powerful realms of all time!

I didn’t think I could have blushed any more fiercely, or been any more surprised.

“You’re a young hero on the verge of a changing world. There’s so much responsibility on your shoulders, so many unprecedented possibilities, and so many people and choices depending on you.”

“Leadership is a burden, Crisanta. And no matter how well-equipped we are, when it is thrust upon us at such a young age, the responsibility can be hard to bear. I know, for I have been there. I was only sixteen when I became king of Camelot. I had to deal with a lot of resistance to my rule right from the start—greedy kings, treacherous courtiers, wars of great scale, and bloodshed that all but wiped my heart clean of faith. So trust me when I say that I know what you are going through. More than that, trust what I am about to tell you.

“The greatest trait that you and I share is the same quality that made you step in and save that storyteller in the tavern. You have honor, Crisanta Knight—a rare combination of strength of heart, soundness of mind, and integrity of soul that makes you stand up for what you know is right—no matter the personal cost. This characteristic cannot be taught any more than it can be learned; it is simply innate. And in your case, as it was with mine, I believe it will make you rise to the challenge of what is coming, and be triumphant.”

Arthur got up and stood in front me. “On that note, other than being a Knight of royal blood, there are two other prerequisites to being the subject of the Great Lights Prophecy. One is to be blessed by the Boar’s Mouth, which is in my castle in the Camelot citadel. I will tell you more about this later. The other requirement is that you have to pledge The Oath to the King of Camelot.”

“It’s not just an oath,” Arthur said. “It’s The Oath, otherwise known as the Pentecostal Oath. It is the all-binding pledge of allegiance that men and women take to serve Camelot and become Knights of the Round Table.”

“The Knights of my Round Table have always been selected based on three qualities: supreme combatant skill, bravery, and unwavering honor.”

“As you have proven to possess all of the above, I find it to be both my duty and my privilege to help you complete this prerequisite and move you one step closer to being the subject of the prophecy meant to claim Excalibur. I would like to extend to you an invitation to take The Oath and join the most sacred bond of loyal service in Camelot—the Knights of the Round Table.”

Arthur removed the sword from the sheath at his belt and brought the side of its blade to rest upon my right shoulder.

“Candidate for knighthood, I now put before you the sacred bond of our congregation, The Pentecostal Oath. As a Knight of the Round Table, you, Crisanta Knight, hereby swear to defend the realm of Camelot—her lands, people, and sovereign—from all those who pose a threat. You promise to give mercy to those who ask for it, resist cruelty, malice, and self-interest, and agree to offer succor to any and all innocent souls who require it. These are the duties you are charged with. And to the best of your ability, you shall be sworn to their standard forevermore, upon pain of forfeiture.

“In accepting the responsibility and title ‘Knight of the Round Table,’ you eternally bind yourself to uphold the name and legacy it carries. You pledge yourself to the service of others, no matter the personal cost. You commit yourself to protect Camelot and her interests with all of your mortal ability. And you swear to be honor-bound from now until the end of days. Knowing this, Crisanta Knight, do you accept The Oath?”

I looked up at Arthur. His eyes were serious and powerful. I solemnly pondered the severity of his words and the legacy and responsibility they carried with them. I also for a moment wished Blue and Jason were here, as I was secretly geeking out over how cool this was.

Filled with an odd rush of pride and humility, I answered King Arthur with more certainty than I’d felt in a long time.

“Then Crisanta Knight,” he said, “Page Turner, Princess of Midveil—I officially dub thee a Knight of the Round Table.”