Happy birthday, Bethany,” her father said, removing his hands from her eyes.
Bethany gasped. “A Pegasus?” She ran toward the pitch-black winged horse with eyes blazing red and hooves sharp as knives. “You got me a Pegasus!”
“Be careful!” her father yelled after her. “Those hooves can cut through steel, and he’s a man-eater!”
“I will!” Bethany yelled, then ducked under the creature’s snapping jaws as she ran, only to throw her arms around his neck and swing herself up and around onto his back. “No reins?”
“Do you need them?” her father yelled.
“Nope!” she shouted, and nudged the startled Pegasus in the side. “Let’s fly, boy!”
The winged horse had never had a rider on its back and didn’t exactly know how to react to Bethany being there. First, he tried bucking her, which didn’t so much as budge her. Next, he took off, and tried to fly close enough to trees and underhanging rocks to scrape her right off his back.
“I know all these tricks, boy,” she said, yelling in his ear over the rushing wind. “A centaur taught me everything anyone could ever know about riding horses. But do what you have to. I can wait!”
From the ground her father waved over and over, while her mother stood shaking her head in disappointment. Bethany laughed loudly, knowing that her mother had probably said no to her father getting Bethany a fictional creature for a pet, and that her father had just gone ahead and done it anyway. Sneakily.
As her new Pegasus began to slowly realize that Bethany wasn’t going anywhere, and that maybe cooperation might be better, things began to smooth out, and the ride grew a bit less exciting.
That wasn’t going to work.
“Yah!” Bethany said, and nudged the creature in the side again. “We’re not gonna do boring on our first ride! Let’s go find Hercules or something and help him fight monsters!”
“No getting involved in other people’s stories!” her mother yelled up from the ground. “I’m tired of having to fix them!”
“I won’t!” Bethany lied, then grinned.
As the ground pulled away, Bethany could just barely make out Mount Olympus through the clouds. Lightning played within the city of the gods, and for a moment, she wondered if she could ask Zeus for a lightning bolt, just to borrow.
“Bethany,” whispered a voice, a man’s voice.
She glanced around, but saw no one. Was one of the gods speaking to her? Or even better, was her Pegasus telepathic? She’d always wanted to—
“Bethany,” said the voice, stronger this time. It seemed familiar, and yet not one she could place. Where had she heard it?
“Bethany, you need to break out of that story,” said the voice. “This isn’t your life.”
“Who is this?” Bethany said, her voice getting carried away by the rushing wind as the Pegasus glided toward Olympus. Lightning began to flash through the clouds as rain whipped against her face.
“Nobody important,” the voice said. “But I know who you are, and I know that all of this is just a story, not your actual life.”
“What . . . what do you mean? Just a story? Of course it is!” She glanced around. This wasn’t her life, it was a book of Greek myths. Who was this—
“The Magister put you in a story, Bethany,” the voice said. “He had Jonathan Porterhouse write you a new life, a life with the father that you never actually had. You need to let it go and come back to reality.”
“There’s no such thing as reality,” Bethany murmured, trying to remember who the Magister or Jonathan Porterhouse were. “That was the first thing my father taught me. The fictional world is just as real—”
“Of course it is,” the voice said. “But this story isn’t yours. You need to be living the story you’re meant to, not one that the Magister created to make you happy. Leave this behind and come back out to reality.”
The rain and lightning and man-eating Pegasus didn’t bother her, but for some reason, the voice’s words sent a chill down her back. “No,” she whispered. “I’m not leaving.”
“Bethany!” the voice shouted. “If you don’t come out, the Magister will sentence your entire world to live out fictional stories!”
“NO!” she shouted this time. “I have my father back, and I’m not leaving! This is the life I was supposed to have. This is the life I didn’t mess up. I don’t care what it is, I’m taking it and you can’t make me leave!”
“You’re right,” the voice said. “I can’t make you. But that’s not your father, Bethany. Not the real version. And there are people counting on you. The Magister has Kiel, Bethany. And Owen is still trapped.”
The names formed images in her mind. A boy, a boy who knew magic, and his former master, the Magister. They’d . . . they’d escaped from their book, because of . . . because of Bethany, and a friend of hers. Owen.
OWEN!
The realization almost knocked her right off her horse. How long had she been here? How long had Owen been trapped in the Kiel Gnomenfoot books? And how could she let the Magister run loose in the real world?
“Kiel needs your help,” the voice said. “As does Owen. Come back for them.”
“I . . . I don’t know!” she shouted over the wind. The lightning and rain crashed all around her now, and she could barely see. “I need to see my father. I need to . . . I need to say good-bye, just for now. Tell him that I’ll come back.”
“He’s not your father, Bethany,” the voice said.
The Pegasus below her turned its head and bit down on her hand, hard. She screamed, and the winged horse bucked hard. She slid right off its back, off into nothingness as rain and thunder pounded all around her.
“Bethany!” the voice shouted.
“NO!” she said, even as wind whipped past her so fast she could barely breathe. “I’m not leaving! I’m not leaving without saying good-bye!”
The clouds whizzed by, revealing a lush green land that rose alarmingly fast. Above, the Pegasus dove straight for her, his mouth open, his razor-sharp hooves ready to strike.
“NO!” she shouted again. “I can’t . . . not again!”
But the voice didn’t respond as Bethany tumbled down and down, everything falling apart.