Chapter 1: The Girl

“Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up.”

-Pablo Picasso

***

The girl jolted awake as something struck her head—irksome, not painful. Her furrow sharpened as she rubbed the spot, then a yawn dispersed it briefly. Last night lingered like a fever dream.

The Chronicles of Germania. She started it at midnight. By morning, rudely interrupted. Probably morning. A waning lamp in the dark aisle couldn’t tell her the time, and the doors at the other end hoarded all the light behind them. Her slouch and growl were well earned. Her drowsy eyes searched for something to blame—books, shelves, then finally, a figure. She squinted at the shape in the darkness. He wasn’t alone. Two pairs of red eyes stared back—one smaller than the other—then stepped into the dim light.

“Kimberlain.”

The man’s voice was rough as bark, deep and low, almost a croak. One word, her full name, and she jolted upright, her hair bristling. He slapped the book against his leather-gloved palm, the crow on his shoulder cawing judgement. She gulped.

The man bent slowly, so stiffly she could almost hear creaks. The paper mask left him noseless, his faint smile barely visible beneath odd-shaped eyes. His face never moved, never blinked—the crow did both for him. Together, they traced her from head to toe. She braced for the words about to come.

“You… didn’t sleep, did you?”

Kim sighed in relief. ‘Borrowing’ the books was expected trouble, but lack of sleep saved her for once. At least he hadn’t noticed that book. Before she could tempt fate, she slid it under the shelves with a quiet kick. The crow’s sharp side eye caught everything. When she shushed, it only shook its head. Cute. Nothing she wouldn’t give to cuddle the sassy bundle of feathers. And if he asked, she’d hug Walter too… not that he would. He never liked them.

“Answer the question.”

“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, then head 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. A brief silence fell before 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 with mouth agape. Her years with him made her cautious eyes follow Birdman even through the wall.

TAP.

Tap.

tap.

Ears strained for fading footsteps. The farther he was, the lighter her heart. Alone at last, she deflated and collapsed into the book pile, which coughed dust her exhales stirred. She pouted, then clicked her tongue. He should’ve made cake.

By now, Birdman would've drawn his pocket-watch again to watch the largest 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 the bird’s cries were heard, along with a pinch of concern. This problem she could settle with a shrug, not the next one.

Kimberlain had one nemesis: Winter. The cold was its cruelest hound, a beast that bit bones through skin. 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. The mask couldn’t show it but she knew better. The thought alone pulled her to her feet.

Training. Yay.

Fortunately, Kim had allies against the season. Meet Mr. Lamp, whose warmth was a shield against Winter’s rabid dog. As she hugged him, her feet dragged against the litter of half-opened books. One of them she kicked closed. Though still drowsy, she’d be foolish not to recognize the cover. Staring at it, she grinned, then called out… to air.

“Pst! Peter! Come’re! It’s time!”

No one came out, not even a rodent. But Kim’s newest companion ‘arrived’ anyway, and he was as real as flying pigs. His arrival caused a wide smile. The adventure begins. After Peter ‘unlocked’ the double doors, she cracked a slit and peeked out.

Creaaak~

Damn hinges. Traitors!

Mr. Lamp glanced down the hallway once slowly, twice quickly, then slipped through with Kimberlain. Outside, the sun glared at her with blinding suspicion. The escapee shielded her eyes with Mr. Lamp. That’s not smart—her throbbing eyes scolded, mouth opened for a torrent of silent curses as if it made them any quieter. Nothing happened, she thought while turning aside to face the grand hall. The sun eyed her from the side, but what could it do? Kim only eyed back 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! The anomalies are near...”

Her gaze swept like a lighthouse as she tip-toed through marble tiles. Dust motes danced in sticks of sunlight as Kim sneezed. Her shadow swelled and shrank through each light patch, a dark thief cast over weary 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, I’ve been meaning to say…”

In the one-sided 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. She gave a theatrical sigh. What do you think, Mr. Neutis?

Crickets. The image would sigh if he could. She begged him for 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 mythical choice to not speak for him. He bid her fare-thee-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 was staunch, a sentinel atop his pedestal. Their meeting was not the first yet Kim gasped like it was. There’s the manslaughterer! She retreated behind another ally, the chipped vase. Ivan The Loyal of countless campaigns—his counsel was sought but never came. Nevertheless, an idea struck immediately. She crept closer… stopped. The distance was appropriate for the attack.

Then, with ridiculous speed—she vanished. Gone. Curtain tie, snatched. Cloth over the bust's head—she was back before the hall knew she'd left. Mission accomplished.

Germaine held no breath, but if he did, he’d sigh at her troublesome antics. The whole hallway would. But they had none, so her triumphant snort was emphasized. She heard the caw. Again, she shrugged, then dashed 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 cracking tiles, each bounce a successful conquest. Her march would not 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.

“Mr and Mrs. Gott, nice to see you today.” Her smile was smaller than usual, then stretched ear to ear. “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 pull 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 hanging deer. Nothing funnier to her, apparently.

“Good morning!” Kim waved eagerly. He might’ve returned the same energy, but his smile cast a deep shadow 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?”

“Smell yourself.”

Sniff. Sniff. “Books.”

“Wet dog and old rain. The stew isn’t ready. 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. 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. 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 floundered toward 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 trees 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.

Kimberlain looked behind. Just pines.

“Is your crow following us?”

“Walk.”

One last look back. 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 forward 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.”

Does he not get tired of saying it? 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 used to be 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, though the latter still held true. Last month’s training used to be… the same, actually. 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 and made her heart sink. Maybe… maybe he’s-

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 away from the shrubs, delivered a rancid, unhappy skunk. As if a tail to the face wasn’t enough, it sprayed on her face before ambling past. Gagging, the stew lurched up her throat.

Mr. Stripes. Great. Just great!

Mr. Stripes dashed into the forest—

SNAP!

And 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 against the snow, 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. Parodied. 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 to yell.

“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 deer missing a hind and front leg 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 the 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