Chapter 1: The Girl

The girl jolted awake as something struck her head—more annoying than painful. She rubbed the spot, wincing. A tear traced her cheek until she yawned. Last night lingered like a fever dream.

The Chronicles of Germania. She started it midnight, rudely interrupted in the morning. Probably morning. How could she tell? There’s only a waning lamp in the dark aisle. The doors far off where she stood hoarded all the light behind them. Everything thus far earned the girl’s slump and grump. She blamed lack of sleep, not the book, certainly not herself. Ahead was someone else to confront.

The girl squinted at the shapes in the darkness. Two pairs of red eyes stared back—one smaller than the other—until they stepped into the dim light.

“Kimberlain.”

Her full name jolted her straight and awake. The man’s voice was rough as pine bark, grating against her ears, making every hair stand on end. One word, Kimberlain’s own name, and she gulped. He slapped the book against his leather-gloved palm and each thud made her sweat. The crow on his shoulder cawed judgingly.

The man bent slowly, stiffly, and with each inch lower, more butterflies filled her stomach. While her face drained of color, his remained paler still—noseless, yet she swore he could smell her unease. The slightest smile barely stretched beneath his lemon-shaped eyes, never moving, just as he never blinked. The crow did and it wasn’t any better. Both scanned her from head to toe. She knew the words about to hit her.

“You… didn’t sleep, did you?”

Or not. Kim scratched her head. Walter, stern as always! Having grown accustomed to his awkwardness, she smiled at the crow that synced with every move. Anyone would! Oh, how she wished to cuddle the petulant bundle of feathers. She’d hug Walter too, but not for the same reason. He never liked hugs. Heh. If she were to be honest, ‘borrowing’ the book was expected trouble, but nothing topped sleep apparently.

A smile of guilt started her day. “I slept… Beautifully.” Horribly.

He straightened. “I see… Good. You remembered what day it is.”

“I sure did, haha…” Shit.

“Hm? What was that?”

“I said it’s training! Yay!”

“Fix yourself and to the kitchen.”

“What do we have for breakfast?”

“Stew and spaghetti. Don't take too long.”

Walter turned around with a flick of his scarf and that was funny to her. Nothing moves that slow. But she didn’t laugh. He pulled a pocket-watch from his coat—tick. tick. tick—then put it back in. There was a moment of silence that didn’t last. Wind hissed through the opened doors and he vanished through it like the busy person he pretended to be. There it is! For all her inner-mocking, she just stood there without a word; eyes following cautiously through the wall, ears straining for fading footsteps, mouth agape.

TAP.

Tap.

tap.

The farther he was, the lighter her heart. Alone at last, she deflated and collapsed into the pile that coughed dust her exhales stirred. She pouted. Clicked her tongue. He should’ve made cake. By now, Walter would've drawn his pocket-watch again, watching its hand complete one slow circle. Every ten minutes, the crow would caw. She never understood this ritual, never needed to, but the image would come to her whenever she heard the bird cry.

Winter was her nemesis, the cold its cruelest weapon, and with it she was stabbed. It sent her shivering and curling and admitting defeat. Her heavy eyes—left of the tropic seas, right of the midnight sky—envied the rats cozied between shelves. A nap with their fur sounded lovely… if not for Walter. If there was one thing to know about him, any one thing at all: you never make him mad. Mr. Citrus wouldn’t show it—he couldn’t—but she knew better. The thought alone pulled her to her feet.

Training. Yay.

The lamp was Kim’s only ally against the cold season. She called it Mr. Lamp, and his warmth was a shield against Winter’s biting arms. As she clutched him, her feet dragged as if the books tugged them back. One of them she kicked from half-opened to close. Eyes less watery than before, seeing the cover prompted her halt. She stared, smiled, then called out… to air.

“Pst! Peter! Come’re! It’s time!”

No one came out. Nothing. Not even air. But Kim’s newest companion ‘arrived’ anyway, and he was as real as flying pigs. A ginormous smile reached her ears. The adventure begins. Peter ‘picked’ the ‘locked’ double doors open. She cracked a slit and peeked out.

Creaaak~

Damn hinges. Traitors!

Down the dirty hallway, Kimberlain glanced once slow, twice fast, then slipped through with the wind, only for the sun to glare at her with blinding suspicion. The escapee shielded her eyes with… the lamp. Her mouth opened for a torrent of silent curses as if it made the throbbing eyes any better. And since there were no witnesses, she turned aside to face the grand hall. Nothing happened. The sun eyed her from the side, but what could it do? Kim only did the same as she began her trotting. Down the hallway she moved-

caw.

She froze like a mannequin. The cry came from the hallway’s end. Walter's image popped out again… Oh well. “Stay close, Peter Kapek! The anomalies are near...”

Sweeping gaze like a lighthouse, she tip-toed through marble tiles. Dust motes danced in the sunlight as Kim sneezed. Her shadow swelled and shrank through each light patch, a dark thief cast over jaded paintings. Opposite from windows, an old friend hung waiting.

“Mr. Alexanderis Vonis Neutis, what a weird mustache! My beard’s more… sophisticated,” she fiddled with her smooth chin, “anyway, hear me out here for a second…”

In their conversation, Walter turned into every bad thing her tongue could shape. His training regimes were torture, his crow was an executioner, and the poor girl a victim of it all. What do you think, Mr. Neutis?

Crickets. The image would sigh if he could. She begged him some slack, pleaded that her ‘friend’ was normal this time, which wasn’t wrong. Usually, he’d rather not meet them, not that there was much of a choice. However, Neutis found kinship in Peter’s silence, or rather, the girl’s choice to not speak for him. He bid her fare-most-well, then watched her do the same to the rest of the unwilling oil-borne.

At the end of the hallway, a stone bust stopped Kim’s march. General Germaine perched like a sentinel atop his pedestal. Their meeting was not the first but Kim gasped like it was. There’s the manslaughterer! Behind the chipped vase she schemed. Ivan The Loyal of countless campaigns. She asked for his counsel that never came. Nevertheless, an idea struck immediately. She crept closer… stopped. The distance was appropriate.

Then—

She vanished. Gone. Cloth draped over the bust's head—she was back before the hall knew she'd left. Ridiculous speed. Mission accomplished.

Germaine held no breath, but if she gave him, he’d sigh at her troublesome antics. The whole hallway would. But they had none, so her triumphant snort was emphasized. She did hear the caw. Again, she shrugged, then dashed past the ‘corpse’ and into the grand hall.

“Attention, soldiers of The Wicked! Your Lord is no more!” Her voice welled with joy. The jubilant walls mimicked, spreading word to an eight-legged audience hammocked between toothless chandeliers and coughing antiques. Again, her ‘people’ were meek. No matter. She hopscotched over tiles—subjugated opposition—each bounce cracking with protest. It wouldn’t last.

Down the groaning staircase, the girl stopped on the landing newel. Her somber eyes rose. Before Kimberlain hung a portrait so grand it nearly touched the ceiling, encasing in gold an expressionless couple who remained austere and unchanging no matter how often she passed by. How strange.

Perhaps it was the chiseled hunk, his sea-blue eyes that were all too familiar. He stood behind the porcelain beauty with flowing hair, fiery like Kimberlain’s own. The girl stared. Stared, but didn’t know what to say. A chatty monkey turned mute.

“Mister and Missus Gott. Nice to see you today.” Her smile was smaller than usual, then larger than her face. “It seems you’re trapped again, kidnapped by the dragon! But where is he? Wait… Peter, are those scales?! It couldn’t be!”

With dramatic flourish, the small blade was unsheathed from her buckle. She leapt from the newel, slashed midair, and landed perfectly on the floor. Victorious, yet ‘grieving.’

“I… I trusted you! I-”

CAW!

The crow shattered her spell as if it knew. A stronger one followed—the scent of venison stew. Yet another traitor, her stomach steered to the only open door.

While waving to sliced root vegetables, Walter appeared like a conductor over a bubbling pot. Uniformly, the chunks floated themselves into the stew. His slim build made them seem less obedient and more charitable. Wonderful, but Kim rolled her eyes.

Atr, the essence of things as she was told. The word scraped her ears raw, as Walter would repeat it like a broken parrot. It was the reason why she was so quick; why those vegetables levitated; why training was a dreadful chore, regardless of her wishes…

Anyway, the crow carved meat from a hanged deer. Nothing funnier to her, apparently.

“Good morning!” Kim waved eagerly. He might’ve returned the same energy, but his smile was a scary oxymoron at the sight of a dirty chimp. So late. So loud. So early. And her smell…

“What happened to fixing ourselves?”

“Oh, I forgot, haha. Let’s just skip the shower!”

“No.”

“Please?”

“Give your pits a good whiff.”

Sniff. Sniff. “Books.”

“Wet dog and old rain. The stew is not yet done. Be a deer—” Walter raised both thumbs.

“Ahaha…” Kim tried her best not to grimace.

“—and take a bath at the cabin.”

“Yeah, I'd say that's cool but it’s freezing, haha! I don’t want to…”

And there it was. The stare. Darker with every word Kimberlain dared add. At their darkest, she recalled collapsing in the forest through fatigue. Kim left the kitchen wordlessly. That went well. She stepped toward the massive, closed entrance looming in the middle of the hall. They watched each other. She grumbled, “Fuck.”

A grueling effort pushed the giant doors howling open. Bizarrely, after a wave of freezing pain, all sensations vanished. She was oblivious to the slaps of dry wind on freckled nose. Winter had painted everything the same monotonous white, Kim was no exception. She crunched forward into the snow.

Above, the sun on a blue canvas, blurred by white smudges. Ahead, gold brushed a snow-robed canopy. Behind, home stood like a welcoming granny. In the distance, stone breasts of circling titans asleep. Beyond them, the tallest peak pricked past the paper skyline.

To Kimberlain, the world was a painting with no frame.

“Peter… do you think there’s anything up there? Peter? Ah right, I killed him.”

She grinned anyway, blade glinting at her hip, and trudged forward to the hot cabin.

***

The sparrows saw a bundled figure marching through the woods—Kimberlain wrapped in winter clothes, looking like a determined penguin. Beside her walked a tall twig of a man, and when he glanced back, the birds scattered. Kimberlain’s belly was warmed by breakfast, but Walter churned it cold. He had always been stern during training, but something changed recently. Something she couldn’t put her finger on. Maybe it’s his air? Heavier? More unwelcoming? She shrugged. At least he cracked a joke in the kitchen, no matter how bland. Now, even the wooden audience hesitated to speak.

“So… about the book—"

Walter stopped mid-step. He turned to the girl… fixed her scarf, then kept walking.

“That’s my book. Never touch it again.”

“Ooh, Mr. Scary over here,” she raised trembling hands in mock terror. “Can you at least tell me about this pinky ring? You said it keeps me connected to you, but how? I’ve worn it since forever.”

“Even if I tell you, you won’t understand. And never take it off.”

“What about what’s up there in the mountains? Are there people there?”

“Again, Kimberlain. In due time.”

“You said that yesterday. And the day before that. Actually, you’ve been saying that since forever.”

Walter exhaled, long and slow. “If only you didn’t slack off. But no—you must sleep all day, dodge me, read unrelated books, skip baths like lesser primates do-”

“Your books are boring! Booooring!”

“Yet you stole it.”

“That’s not what I-”

rustle.

Huh?

Kimberlain looked behind. Just pines.

“Is your crow following us?”

“Walk.”

One last look back before she continued. The two reached the far edge of the forest where an open, snow-covered landscape stretched out ahead. Her stomach churned even further.

Walter knelt. Pressed a hand to the snow. Stood. Walked a distance away and turned, gesturing her to follow.

She leapt with a yawn—mimicking his nonchalance—immediately waist-deep. Snow slipped through seams and sleeves, curling icy fingers around bones. Shit, not again! What pain lacked, fear was abundant. She flung snow everywhere as panic gripped her chest. Walter sighed after brushing some off his face.

“Why don’t quadrupeds sink in the snow?”

“Because they’re light? I don’t know! Help me up!”

“You’re lighter than they are, yet you sank. I’m heavier and I float. Remember what I told you: Inside us is power. Atr.”

Oh my days. She rolled eyes. He’d helped her feel Atr before. It felt like a part of her she never knew existed. A sudden pair of wings. Walter’s instructions were long and detailed. Following them? Never a Kimberlain trait. Last week she sank. And the week before that. Each and every time, Walter picked her back up.

The word took her to the first time he mentioned it. Believe it or not, Walter used to be… warm. Friendly and awkward all the time. The last part still held true, don’t get it twisted. Training last month used to be… wait, now that she thought about it, she had been doing the same things. Always had been.

But something definitely changed.

“Please, can you just help me up?!”

“No.”

“… What?! Why?!”

“Remember the teachings.”

“Focus and control, yada, yada, yada—I don’t know what that means!”

“Then stay there until you do.”

“It’s cold in here! I’ll get sick! Walter, my toes feel like ten ice cubes—”

She looked toward him, hoping he’d roll his eyes and offer the same hand. Only there was no hand. No Walter, either. Just her in the middle of nowhere. A thought appeared in her head. Made her heart sink. Maybe… maybe he’s doesn’t love me any-

As if. Let’s be realistic, it’s Walter. This is just training. Nothing more. Nonetheless, a scream reverberated like someone lost a pet. It scared critters from critter-businesses. A rancid skunk ambled past. Rubbed its tail on her nose. She did not consent to that, and the stew lurched up her throat.

Mr. Stripes. Great. Just great!

It dashed into the forest—SNAP!—straight to the gator-wolf’s maw. “Ha!” she gulped. “Serves you right! Thank you, Mr. Maw! Teach that rude guy a lesson!”

After her cheers, silence. The wind didn’t move. The trees were still bystanders. She pushed—hands clawing and legs kicking—no different from earlier. Every movement dug a worse trap. Learning Atr? Tedious. Using it? Worse. What’s the point of all this? Meanwhile, the books told stories beyond the mountains. Animals. People. People befriending animals.

Friend. She mumbled. Bit her lips. Talked stupid. Hurr-Durr, me Walter! Me make student run forest, lift rocks heavy, walk loose snow! Me make student endure cold empty mansion! Over over! Whole new world out there, but nuh-uh! This what she must do!

She looked at the pinky ring. “Never take it off.” Took it off for a second. Snapped.

“Walter, you’re so stupid! Animals float because they can, not because of Atr! You donkey! And you told me I have it in my body already, so why did I sink?! Damn it!”

Lungs torn, her heart slowed down. She put the ring back and breathed. That felt good.

Then, her nape tingled. Electricity crawled through her spine. Can’t turn around… Something, someone was watching from behind. It approached. Crunches grew nearer and nearer. A shadow fell over her. Something tugged her hair—teeth? She screamed. Prayed it wasn’t Maw.

Thank God.

A two-legged deer hopped into view. It landed perfectly, ran swift and upright, as if the ground wasn’t loose, like its limbs weren’t halved. How?! Followed it, a well-kept family. The herd drew distance yet observed. She glanced at the alpha’s hooves. Gentle, yet firm. Incomplete, yet whole. They parted ways without sound.

“You’re lighter than they are, yet you sank.” “Focus and control, Kimberlain.” “Inside you is power.” “Atr.”

A lightbulb flickered. Different this time. She inhaled. Deeply. Instilled stillness across every limb. She pushed gently against ground… and rose. Slowly. Surely. At last, she stood. Beneath the mountains, yet on top of the world. She shook off flakes like a jolly wet puppy.

“HELL YEAH!”

Her voice echoed through the landscape… before she sank again.
***

I never thought about the house before.

According to the book, there’re no more anomalies.

Only humans out there.

If so, why aren’t there any?

I can’t go Outside. Walter won’t let me.

They can visit, though!

I’ve been hoping since forever. Someone out there. From somewhere. With a ‘cat,’ if they have one.

Nothing to this day.

Why?

What’s keeping them?

I keep training for nothing.
***

End of Chapter 1