The Visit
Atlanta always loved to sleep at home. Despite Etheria’s sometimes eccentric behavior, at bedtime she gave the whole house a feeling of serenity and peace. The oversized acorn, set among the trees, would literally glow with warmth. A crackling fire would magically appear in the woodstove, the scent of lilacs would waft through every room, and shutters would open and close themselves with a rhythmic creaking sound.
On this particular evening, Atlanta went to bed feeling especially grateful for such a comfortable home. Though the terrible experience at the mining complex had happened more than a week earlier, it still haunted her thoughts. During all the chores and meals of that day, she’d worried about the future of her beloved forest—and of Atlantis. And the conversation with Shangri had reminded her how much she still missed Promi. Not even Quiggley’s waves of encouragement had made her feel better.
But now, as she climbed into bed, those cares faded away. She fluffed her pillow made from soft feathers (the gift of a family of geese she’d sheltered during a wild storm). By the time she stretched herself out on her simple mattress of meadow grass and pulled up her blanket woven from softreeds, she was half-asleep. It was all she could do to glance over at Quiggley’s perch by the window, knowing that he’d return after his evening explorations of the forest.
She closed her eyes and immediately drifted off. Soon she was immersed in deep, peaceful slumber.
She dreamed that she was walking slowly along a mossy path by the edge of a lake. Water birds chattered and fluttered their wings by the shore. A family of river otters playfully slid down the muddy bank where a stream poured in. And a pair of moths, yellow as butter, hovered over the first marsh marigolds of spring.
“Well, well,” said a voice. “You picked a good place to dream.”
Startled, she looked up—and saw Promi, striding toward her on the path. She flashed a bright smile, genuinely happy to see him. But she coyly replied, “Normally, though, I dream up better company.”
He came up to her, standing face to face. She noticed that, while he used to be a bit taller than herself, they were both now the same height. Other than his black hair being a bit longer than she remembered, he looked just the same.
Looking straight into her blue-green eyes, he said quietly, “Atlanta. This visit isn’t a dream.”
Seeing her look of puzzlement, he explained, “Sure, we’re in your dream. But this is really me. I’m visiting you from the spirit realm. In a way that won’t tear the veil.”
Slowly, she nodded. “I feel it. I really do!” She cocked her head thoughtfully. “So . . . you forgive me for being such an idiot last time you were here?”
“Only if you forgive me! And I was the bigger idiot.”
Toying with one of her curls, she said, “No disagreement there.”
Taking both her hands, he said, “You were right, Atlanta. About putting the needs of others ahead of my own. About protecting our worlds. Basically . . . about everything.”
“Well,” she said mischievously, “I guess an apology five years later is better than none at all.”
He winced at the reminder of how much time had passed in the mortal realm. “It’s really been that long?”
She looked suddenly sad. “And, Promi . . . some horrible things have been happening. Caused by people, new people.”
“I know,” he said guiltily. “I brought them.”
“What?” Atlanta pulled her hands away from his and scowled. “How could you?”
“Not on purpose,” he protested. “Their ship was about to go down in a whirlpool! I just wanted to save all those innocent lives. So I, well . . . asked for some help. From the ocean goddess.”
Softening, she gave a nod. “I see. But, Promi, I wish you hadn’t helped them! Those people have been doing so much damage. It’s terrible.”
Frowning, he said, “Something tells me they’ve had some encouragement from the spirit realm.”
“You don’t mean—”
“Yes. Narkazan is back. He’s preparing for another war of conquest. We just dealt him a blow . . . but he’ll be back, angrier than ever, very soon.”
• • •
While Atlanta was deep asleep, immersed in her dream, all was not well with her home. Etheria, alert for trouble like any reasonably sentient house, felt a disturbing new presence. Yes—from the spirit realm!
In some way Etheria couldn’t fully understand, that spirit had violated the space of Atlanta’s home—and had even intruded on her peaceful dreams. Well, Etheria wasn’t about to sit idly by while that happened! There was only one solution to this outrage: to wake up Atlanta.
Doors slammed. All the shutters opened wide, then crashed closed. The floor under Atlanta’s bed started shaking.
Still, Atlanta stayed sleeping. But if Etheria had her way, that wouldn’t last long.
• • •
Glancing over at the water birds by the lake, Atlanta said, “Let’s walk.”
“Good idea. It’s been too long.”
Together, they started strolling on the mossy path. Beautiful as their surroundings were, neither of them were in much of a mood to notice. A dark cloud seemed to have settled over them.
“I’m so worried,” said Atlanta as she stepped over a turtle on the path. “About everything. The forest. My world. Your world.”
She stopped, peering at Promi. “And also . . . about you.”
He swallowed. “And I’m worried about you.”
“You know,” she said, running her hand down the length of his arm, “that even if we can’t . . . um, find a way to be together—”
“Don’t say that. There still might be a way.”
She nodded, but her expression was not hopeful. “Whatever happens . . . I just want you to know that I bless your eternal qualities.”
Hearing her say her favorite blessing, he almost smiled.
“And, Atlanta,” he began, then cleared his throat.
• • •
Increasingly upset, Etheria slammed her doors with even more force. Shutters crashed, while floorboards creaked and groaned.
Then she started to shake violently. From top to bottom, the whole house rocked as if struck by an earthquake.
• • •
After clearing his throat, Promi took both her hands in his own. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to say to you. Something . . . important.”
Her eyes widened. “What is it?”
• • •
Frantic with concern, Etheria started shaking more violently than she’d ever done before. The whole house rocked side to side, sending Atlanta’s bed sliding into the wall.
• • •
“It’s, well,” fumbled Promi. “It’s . . . important.”
Warmly, Atlanta watched him. “Go on.”
He drew a deep breath. “You know, the way my life started out, I was—well, alone much of the time. So . . . there wasn’t anybody around who I could trust. Or . . . come to love.”
She blinked the mist from her eyes.
“Well, this thing I want to say to you—it’s, um, something I haven’t really said before. Haven’t wanted to say before.”
She gave him an encouraging nod.
He gazed at her for several seconds. Then, at last, he said, “Atlanta . . . I really do—”
• • •
Atlanta woke up—torn away from her dream, as well as the young man who visited her there.