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PARKER STOOD BEFORE THE entry to the Sky Box. Her eyes sprinting back and forth between her companions as the burden of the task weighed her down. She had observed Stefanos open and seal the room dozens of times. But now, could she simulate his actions?
Parker pursed her lips, hiding any lingering doubts. Instinctively, she raised her arm, closed her eyes, and independent of voluntary action, a surge of energy claimed her body. Electric currents ran through her veins, thrumming along her bloodstream—the feeling as tactile as if her blood boiled within her. She experimented with a slight upward shift of her index finger and the wall slid open effortlessly. She was controlling the force within her. When she concentrated, her brain triggered the response she wanted. She trembled at the excitement and the power.
Henley gasped. “Holy crap! How did you do that?”
A little scared and a little nervous, Parker stared at her hands as if they were an appendage no longer belonging to her. Parker motioned to Henley and Edison to follow her. “Come on, let’s go in,” she said, her hands shaking. Another upward tilt of her finger and the wall closed behind them. Her mind called the electricity to her right hand. Out shot a blaze of fire and the wall of the Sky Box sealed behind them. How was she able to do this? She recognized one thing—whatever was going on within her—through this strength she would be able to keep them safe.
“You’ve got some magic touch,” Edison said. “Parker, it’s scary—but I’m not gonna question anything about you anymore. Bring it on!”
“The fire shot out of your fingertips!” Henley backed away from Parker and said, “We saw the Sky King shoot fire with his talon! How are you doing this with your hand?”
“I have no idea. I’ve never been able to do anything like this before.”
Henley shot her a wild glare that said, ‘Don’t come near me!’
“Don’t you think I’m wondering why is this happening now?” Parker stopped and searched their eyes as she rubbed her fingertips. “If you think it’s strange to watch me do this, imagine how I feel, when fire comes from my hands and it doesn’t burn me? But we’ll use these powers to our advantage.”
Parker suddenly felt a tug. A flow of energy within her guided her toward the largest glass wall. Weightless, as if a feather blown by the wind, she floated with the current across the room. She swallowed hard. Her mouth dry, layered with a bad taste. Where could this energy flow be coming from? The energy drew her in front of a row of panels which morphed into video screens stretching from one end of the room to the other. She couldn’t move, her feet glued in position. Sick to her stomach, the bile and nausea rose within her. She stared at the glass in front of her and watched as a scroll of images appeared on the screen moving at hyper speed. At first, none were distinguishable. Blurred pictures, rapidly crossing the windows, flashed on and off. Voices too. In Chinese.
A woman’s voice called out from the screen. “Ming Mei!” Henley moaned in response. Music and chanting played in the background. The images slowed. Center on screen, a poised older Chinese woman, bathed in glorious sunlight, moved about a lovely garden. The woman was arguing with “the moody Henley” Parker first met in the Sky Box. The woman had to be Henley’s mother and they must have been at their home in California. She remembered the chant as the one Henley sang when she was worried.
“We’ve been abducted by a monster!” Henley cried her out to her mom on the screen. She said to Edison and Parker, “I know he brought me—us—here to help them. But the idea he’s been watching us all along, waiting to steal our lives away? He stole my life from me! And my poor mother. Oh my God! What must she be thinking—I ran away? I wish I were at home. I should have appreciated my parents only wanted what was best for me! And they were right!”
Tears ran down Henley’s cheeks. Parker yearned to comfort her, yet she could barely comfort herself. She held Henley close and stroked her hair, hoping it would soothe her and said, “We knew they selected us, calm down. They had to have been watching. Stefanos promised us we would not be missing at home. Time travels differently here. Try not to worry.” She embraced the sobbing girl wanting to believe her words but finding little comfort.
The force of the screen drew her closer. Parker rotated her hand slightly and the wall now displayed images of Edison walking down a dark city street with a boy who could have been his older brother. The older boy laughed and joked as they walked and talked about basketball. The older boy teased him, “You could be a great forward, bro. Your jump shot’s way better than mine! Coach asked me to bring you to practice next week. It’ll help you get into college—maybe even help pay for med school.”
Edison didn’t answer his brother. Parker figured he didn’t want to tell him about the choir. Under his breath, Edison softly whispered to Parker, “That’s my brother.” He said. “Ozzie.” Edison winced, lowered his glance. He took a few deep breaths. Anger crossed his face and he shouted to Parker, “I can’t watch this. Parker, turn it off! This doesn’t help. Can’t you just shut it down? Please!”
“I hope so. I’m trying.” Parker said, realizing they’d all fall apart if they thought about their lives and the lost opportunities. She tilted her wrist, hoping to collapse the screens and end the nightmare of what they had left behind.
But instead, the image display revolved to picture New York City. Sky-high buildings and Central Park. A lump formed in her throat as she thought about her own home and her parents. She tried to swallow, but the lump wouldn’t move.
The images streamed Parker in school—lunch in the cafeteria with the “Tates” eating together, joking, laughing, bantering with the popular boys sitting next to them. Parker seated at a table alone, had her head buried in a book.
The screen flipped and displayed city streets, horns blaring, traffic jammed for miles, wrapping the FDR on the East Side and jamming the West Side Highway along the Hudson River. Roadways, like parking lots, overflowed onto the bridges and into the tunnels at a dead halt. Planes circled the skies. Factories puffed out steaming smoke. The view zoomed out, and displayed Earth covered in layers of smog.
“But what does all of this mean? And what does that have to do with us?” Edison asked.
Parker’s focus shifted to Belliza. She needed to bring the hummingbird to the Sky Box. She wanted to talk to her. A few moments later, Belliza appeared drained and exhausted outside the glass wall. Parker unsealed the Sky Box and the little bird flew in and slumped before them. Parker read sadness in Belliza’s eyes.
“Belliza, you need to tell us what happened. What’s going on right now?” Edison demanded. “You brought us here, then you abandoned us.”
The hummingbird didn’t answer, and Parker understood why. She read the bird’s thoughts—Belliza was unable to speak. Why hadn’t she seen this earlier? Belliza didn’t want Parker to know her loyalties were divided. Belliza had chosen to stay true to Stefanos and he’d…what? Put some sort of silence spell on her? Commanded her to silence? No...
“Don’t be angry with Belliza, Edison. None of this is her fault. She cannot speak against the Sky King. I can read her eyes,” Parker said. Parker thought back to when she first arrived everything was a puzzle. Now, she had begun to understand the Upperworlders and what was on their minds.
Edison sighed. “There has to be a place on this planet where we can get away from Stefanos and plan our next move. I don’t know what he’ll do when he finds us here. I know you said we are safe now, Parker. But what if Stefanos is still powerful enough to break through? What if he kills us?”
Parker locked arms with Edison and Henley. Belliza hovered over Parker’s shoulder.
“He wouldn’t,” Parker replied. “We are his hope for the future. He won’t do anything to harm us. There are more important ways we can contribute. I have a different idea of what he wants from us.”
“Spill it! We’re on borrowed time until that wall opens up and someone starts shooting fire at us!” Edison said. “I’m telling you both now—if anyone breaks in here, they’ll be some dead birds. I am not afraid.”
As Edison spoke, the flow of images began to roll again, this time independent of Parker. Peculiar markings appeared in a shifting pattern of angular scratches on a dark background.
What was this artwork? Bird-like footprints? Or maybe an ancient language?
Parker’s finger throbbed and ached until she pointed it at the screen. The markings were transcribed into English. Parker quickly began reading out loud.
Stefanos, My Son,
Somewhere beneath the sky and the sea, my essence must go to rest among the rushing waters and the towers of branches that make up our world. My time has come to join our Forefathers, the Ruling Great Ones, our Sky Kings who guide our wise owls, the Spirits of the Sky. One is never ready. But we are only visitors on this planet. Now, I must leave the rule of our wondrous Spyridon to you.
I know your time has come before you have prepared. My time arrived earlier than I had planned. We can never predict our time nor know the precise moment the Spirits decide is best for us to rule. When we are called, we must be ready.
I warn you as my father warned me, and his father warned him. Before the Spirits call, it will not be pleasant, and you will lose yourself, as the Spirits’ cries grow louder. All your guidance, all of your good work, must take place before your hundredth birthday. Your course must be in place, or it will be too late for you to control your powers.
Though you may think it is not your time to lead, you will be a wiser and better leader than I. You are a true Ruler, a Great One with patience and foresight, qualities that will ensure a bright and better future for Spyridon.
You know to keep those out of favor close to your heart. They need to stay under your watchful eye. Your loyalists will not wrong you. And your earthlings must be protected. You must teach them our ways before it is too late. They will be the emissaries of the future—the future of both Spyridon and Earth long after you are gone. Those who choose to stay will take on the serum of our blood.
A hot and stinging shock physically jolted Parker.
“Belliza—the serum of blood! What does that mean?” She searched Belliza’s eyes for an explanation. “I don’t understand.”
Belliza turned away and soared into the air. From the height of the Sky Box, Belliza stared down at Parker for an instant and blinked her eyes.
Parker could barely speak. Perspiration soaked her body. She stared into the clouds searching for Belliza. Dizzy and light-headed, Parker sank into herself and collapsed on the floor. She choked and tried to catch her breath, feeling as if she was smothered.
Outside the Sky Box, a burst of fire shot from the clouds, directly toward them. Another fiery cloud exploded. The floor inside swayed and the room went black.
Parker called out into the darkness. Her feet and hands went stone cold. Pins and needles riddled her arms and legs. Her body shivered and her heart pulsed frantically. She couldn’t think clearly or process what had transpired. She stretched her arms out, searching for Edison and Henley. “Where are you? Henley? Edison?”
“We’re both here, Parker! Over here!” Edison said.
Parker finally exhaled. “Thank God! Keep talking and stretch out your hands to me!”
“We’re over here. Over here!” Parker inched her body along the dark floor, moving closer to their voices. Finally, she touched their hands and huddled into them.
Had the attack escalated? Had it spread to the Citadel? Had the Upperworld not been able to contain the battle on Katamoor?
Suddenly, small, prickly bird feet landed on top of her head. Two beams of light illuminated from above. At the opposite end of the room, rooted in the midst of the sphere of radiance, Cole walked toward her.
Disheveled, his hair wild and his face grave, he barely resembled himself.
“Cole! Are we being attacked again at the Citadel?”
Belliza fluttered away from Parker’s head and rose to the top of the Sky Box. She showered more light from her eyes and flooded the Sky Box in bright white.
Cole’s eyes dwelled on Parker and shifted to Henley and Edison.
“Are you guys okay?”
“We’re okay. I think.” Parker said as she eyed her companions. “But what is going on?”
“The Citadel took a big hit. Far worse than the attack on the night you arrived. The Virago trees are practically destroyed and Katamoor is in danger of sinking into the sea. There have been simultaneous blasts in key outposts across every region.” He stopped speaking. “But I came here first to check on you. I am grateful you all made it to the Sky Box. I fear we have lost many lives again. Whoever is behind the attacks is out to destroy us. You are safe here. Just stay put. I’ll be back. This time don’t move! Any of you. Belliza, stay with them until I return. Don’t let them out of your sight.”
“Where are you going?” Parker asked.
“I told you. I am going to fix this. I confronted Stefanos. He will be at peace with what must be done. Now I am going to deal with the Empress. You made me realize I have to step up. I cannot allow this to continue. The Empress will listen. Or I will do what I have to do.” He crossed the room and leaned into Parker, quickly stealing a quick kiss from her lips.
“Please don’t go!” Parker begged.
Her words fell in the empty space. Cole had vanished within seconds.
Unsteady, Parker quickly rose to her feet. Blood rushed to her head and she swooned. The enormity of the devastation of all they had created and all they had worked toward was too huge to grasp. She wiped her sweaty palms on her sheath and stared at Belliza.
“Belliza, where is the Silver Helm?”
Henley and Edison glared at her. “Are you crazy?” Edison yelled. “You can’t be serious. You are not going to the Underworld, Parker.”
“Oh yes I am!”
Henley motioned to Belliza to come closer. “You can’t let her go, Belliza. Stop her! You heard what Cole said!”
The bird tipped her beak, waving Parker on, to follow Cole.
Henley crossed her arms. “This has gotten out of control. If you go, we’re not coming after you, Parker. You’re on your own. They have all the power and knowledge down there. It’s way too dangerous.”
“I’m with her,” Edison added. “Parker, you are putting your life at risk down there. Do you want to die? For him?”
“I’m not going to die. I am going to live and make sure we all live.” She turned back to Belliza. “Where is the Silver Helm? I am going with it or without it.”
Belliza circled the far glass wall and Parker read her mind, ‘this is the wall that will lead you to the Silver Helm.’ Parker leveled her index finger at the glass. A stinging pulse of energy surged down her arm and into her hand. She fell off her feet with the force of the current. The bird nodded, confirming silently, ‘Take this path.’
With her head high, she raced from the Sky Box and into the dusty, smoke-laden corridor of the Citadel. A pocket of smog condensed before her eyes and revealed a hidden cubicle. The electric force stung her again and prodded her toward the cubicle. Water streamed down her neck and along her back, soaking her tunic like a second skin. Her hair plastered her head. She spun in search of Belliza. “What kind of crazy thing is this, Belliza? Are these cubbies everywhere?”
Belliza had disappeared. Parker stepped into the cubicle. The wall closed and the familiar prickling of the Silver Helm attacked her body. She focused on the path ahead that would take her through the branches in the Citadel’s foundation. From there, she planned to backtrack by way of the Black Sea to the Grotto.
She moved through the dense smog barely able to make her way along the corridors. Choking, she breathed in a foul chemical odor and smoke threatened to fill her lungs and chest. She pressed her arm against her face, covering her nostrils, and hurried on. The further she walked, the denser the air became, and the higher the temperature rose. In the distance, caws and shrieks moaned in mourning.
Stretching to move through the top branches, she thrust her arms from limb to limb, until she finally reached the base, the entry to the cloudscape, and the last path to the South Gate. Exhausted, Parker prayed the cushion of the cloudy walk before her would ease the difficulty of her movement. Her legs, sore and bruised, jostled with every jump and ached as her muscles absorbed the shock. Her eyes remained focused beneath her. She was determined not to miss the well-hidden passage buried between the cloud formations.
After a few miles, she dropped to her knees and began crawling, hoping the worst of the air quality would rise above her. She groped past fragments of bones, smelled burnt flesh, feathers, and clothing. She blocked out thoughts of the remains, and their origin. She would crawl all the way, if she must, even though her hands and knees blistered and bled.
The electricity within her didn’t ease. The currents jerked her movements over and over again striking her as if she were a Pavlovian dog prodded to follow direction.