Two Separate Worlds
Neither of them slept well. Though they’d found a lovely spot—a mossy meadow beside a tumbling waterfall, the starry sky arching overhead—Atlanta and Promi tossed and turned the whole night. Like endless cries for help, their experiences at the lakes kept echoing in their minds.
Only Quiggley had no trouble sleeping. Curled inside a cupped oak leaf near Atlanta, he slept soundly for at least seven minutes—a full night’s rest for a faery. For the remainder of the evening, he explored the forest in moonlight, one of his favorite times to be with the woods and its creatures. By dawn, he was halfway across the forest, so he decided it was time to return to Atlanta.
Meanwhile, morning light touched the companions’ mossy meadow. The waterfall grew brighter, until it looked like liquid sunshine pouring over the rocks. A nearby spider’s web transformed into golden threads. High in the branches of a mahogany tree, a nest of young bluebirds awoke and started chirping hungrily.
For Atlanta and Promi, though, this wasn’t a time to enjoy their surroundings. Bleary from lack of sleep, they rose and gathered a bit of breakfast—some licorice roots, a few walnuts, and a kind of miniature melon often found near waterfalls.
Sitting next to Atlanta on the moss, Promi sliced the melon with his dagger. He handed half to her. Together, they ate the succulent fruit as juice dribbled down their chins.
“Mmm,” said Promi with a smack of his lips. “Good melon. Almost as sweet as the sugarmelons that grow in the spirit realm. Just last week I found some growing on the banks of a river of honey.”
“Too bad you don’t have a sweet tooth,” Atlanta teased. “Otherwise you might actually enjoy those things.”
He grinned. “You might enjoy them, too, if you’d let me take you there sometime.”
Chewing her last bite of melon, she shook her head. “You know it’s against the law for mortals to visit the spirit realm.”
“I suppose,” he said with a shrug. “But by the same token, immortals aren’t allowed to visit Earth. And that’s never kept me from coming to see you.”
Her blue-green eyes looked at him worriedly. “How difficult is that journey? I mean, are you putting yourself at risk by coming here?”
“No,” he said, pausing to wipe his sticky hands on the moss. “The only risk is getting caught. And my specialty is never getting caught.”
“It’s really that easy?”
“All I need to do is catch a good wind and fly here, now that I know how. I’ll never be as fast as a wind lion like Theosor, of course—but it’s still a fairly quick trip.”
“I mean, it’s easy not to get caught?”
“Child’s play. I’ve always been good at escaping pursuers! And there’s really no harm in it. My father keeps telling me that my travels here are tearing holes in the veil between the worlds. But I don’t buy it.”
She leaned closer. “Why not? Sammelvar, the great spirit of wisdom, wouldn’t lie to you.”
Bitterly, Promi asked, “Really? You’re saying I should trust the same man who has always treated me as just a pawn in his grand plans?”
Atlanta peered at him, guessing he was still struggling with yesterday’s vision at the Lakes of Dreams. Or could there be something else going on, something he wasn’t telling her?
Or maybe, she wondered, was there more to his vision than he’d revealed? Just as there was really more to her own?
Trying to comfort him, she suggested, “Maybe your parents just want you around more. It must be nice for them to have you back.”
“Are you kidding?” Promi scowled. “That’s the last thing they want! Especially after that fight.”
“What fight?”
“Just before I came here. My father berated me for going through the veil. Made a big fuss that my visits to Earth are tearing so many holes that the veil could collapse.”
Atlanta stiffened. “Promi . . . what if he’s right?”
“But he’s not! Not once, in all my travels, have I ever seen or felt the veil. And I’ve certainly never felt it tearing.”
“But, Promi—”
“Don’t you see what he’s doing? Trying to control me, as always! He thinks I’m selfish—but my parents are the selfish ones, still using me for their own purposes.”
He paused, looking into her eyes that sparkled with green, expecting her sympathy. Instead, she said the last thing he expected.
“Listen, Promi. Your father could be right about the veil. And if he is . . . this whole world is at risk.”
“What? It’s a lot more likely he doesn’t want me to see you! He’s probably cooking up this whole thing just to keep us apart.”
Atlanta shook her head. “Even if that’s true, the veil matters more. The possibility it’s in danger outweighs the desires of just two people.”
Stunned by her response, Promi asked, “Even if those two people are us?”
Atlanta frowned. “Yes.”
He reached for her hand. “There’s something else you need to know.”
He hesitated, trying to find the right words. “Time is, well . . . different in the spirit realm. It moves much more slowly than on Earth. Just a few minutes up there could be days or months—even years—down here. So by coming here often to be with you, and by spending lots of time on Atlantis, I’m . . .”
“Keeping us close to the same age?” Touched, she gave him a soulful look.
“Yes,” he said softly. “I don’t want you to get a whole lot older than me.”
Atlanta drew a long, slow breath. “I see. But, Promi, you still can’t put our needs ahead of the world’s.”
“What are you saying?”
“That you should trust your father on this.”
“No!” Promi released her hand and stood. Angrily, he strode over to the waterfall. Then he spun around and declared, “He’s just trying to stop me from doing what I want. Like he’s always done. And what I want is to see you!”
He paused, trying to calm his voice. “He’s just putting up barriers, don’t you see? And I’ve never, in my whole life, believed in barriers.”
Something about the way he said that sounded wrong to Atlanta. Dangerously wrong. She walked over and confronted him.
“I’m worried about the veil, even if you’re not! There are evil spirits, too, as you know—spirits who would do terrible things down here if they could. And, Promi . . . I’m also worried about you.”
Angrily, he clenched his jaw. “What are you saying? That I’m evil? Or stupid?”
“No!”
“Or that you don’t want me to come visit?”
“No, Promi!”
“Then what kind of idiocy are you saying?”
“You sound like you’re still a pie thief! Like you can just sneak into the mortal realm any old time you want—as if it’s somebody’s kitchen. And,” she added, her heart pounding, “I’m not just another dessert for you to steal.”
Taken aback, he objected, “I never said anything like that.”
“No? No? You said you love never getting caught and you don’t believe in barriers. Sounds like a pie thief to me! Then you just toss aside any worries about the veil.”
“Sure, but—”
“Listen,” she said coldly. “That veil is protecting my world! My forest. My home. And if you don’t understand that—how can I ever trust you?”
“Trust me?”
“Not to . . .” The words caught in her throat.
“I’m just trying to be free!” he shouted. “To make my own choices for a change!”
“Even if those choices put my whole world in danger?” She scowled at him. “Maybe you really like having us live apart, pulled by two separate worlds. That way you never get too close to anybody—and never have to change your ways.”
“What do you mean?”
“That you’re being selfish! Just like your father said. The veil matters more than any one person, Promi!”
Hearing her words, so close to Sammelvar’s, was more than he could take. “No,” he insisted. “You’re wrong!” He stepped backward, almost falling into the pool beneath the waterfall.
Just at that moment, Quiggley flew back to the meadow. It didn’t take his keen instincts as a faery to feel the anger and fear in the air. He sensed immediately that, even as this new day had begun . . . something else had ended.