Long Way Home

Sandra’s open hair whipped around her as her body glided in a roughly horizontal shape with her rapid descent. With desperation, she tried to reach out to the massive hole in the ground from where she could still see the sky, watching it shrink with every passing second. In her shock and panic, no sound came from her mouth.

Soon enough, the hole was merely a dot in her vision that too, faded to black. The scene around was dark. So dark that if it hadn't been for the wind that ringed her ears and made her hair go wild, she would’ve thought she was levitating in an endless landscape of black.

She continued to fall until, through the dark, she could finally make out some light. Before her very eyes, the black turned to a deep blue and then to a beautiful sky color. Her eyes squinted at the bright light above her. It was the sun. She noticed the steadily approaching canopy of a forest below her.

She hit a branch of a tree first and bumping, hitting on various others as she slid down, yelping and shrieking along.

She groaned when she felt the rough surface of the ground and the crunch of dried up leaves blanketing it from under her jeans. Her whole body ached, and black dots appeared in her vision.

Through the pain, Sandra felt a sweet sensation entering her system. It reduced her aches, cleared the shadows she saw and let her breathe properly. That was until she realized what was happening.

Sandra scrambled to her feet and backed up against the bark of the tree she had been leaning against. To her relief, the forest was not much different than how she supposed it should be.

The entire forest floor was littered with leaves that crunched under her feet with every movement she made. The trees were wide-barked and closely positioned. Their leaves were various shades of yellow, red and orange, all reminding Sandra of fall. The trees were full of these leaves though and they shaded her from the sun whose rays were soft as a newborn’s skin.

Sandra could hear unfamiliar calls of birds and insects around her as she gazed at how natural this jungle looked like. No forest back home was comparable to how right everything seemed with everything else. And the massiveness of the trees! She hadn’t known that trees as tall as she was now seeing were even real.

She made out scurried footsteps before she saw a deer-like creature, but with no horns adorning its head. It looked like a little fawn, but its body size was like an adult’s. Most notably though, it had cute, little whiskers and its nose was… on its neck? The creature stared at her with wide, curious violet eyes.

Something in Sandra compelled her to step forward. The animal scurried a few steps backwards, startling her. She raised a hand, slowly to not scare it away, and approached it. The crunch of the leaves below her feet made her wince, but at least, the animal wasn’t backing off.

Sandra only stopped when her outstretched palm was just parallel to the animal’s snout. She waited with bated breath.

The curious creature stared at her open palm before it moved forward, sniffing. Slowly and hesitantly, it leaned in.

Sandra had no time to be excited. A relieved sigh flew out her mouth and she grinned. She moved closer. Petting it like a dog, Sandra found it hard to suppress her borderline idiotic smile. She was rubbing behind its ear when the creature suddenly raised its head in alarm. Its violet eyes searched for something beyond Sandra before it turned and bounced away in the opposite direction.

She felt disappointed. But that disappointment lasted only until she noticed all the unfamiliar birds nearby taking off from where they had been watching Sandra.

She stressed her ears and finally understood the reason for the animals’ withdrawal. Footsteps. She turned and made out 4 silhouettes rushing towards her. The loudness of their steps irked her, mostly because it ruined the serenity of the forest and made the animals scurry away.

They were all men, all dressed weirdly like they were going to a medieval themed party with their linen oversized shirts and leggings. None of them looked over the age of 20.

The first man she could make out carried vibrant wavy copper-brown hair grown long and tied back with a hair tie. His skin was beige, and eyes were blue, an ocean Sandra could dive and drown in. His entire posture gave off the vibes that he was gentleman sort, but more so of a heartbreaker.

Following him was a man that reeked of innocence. The first thing Sandra noticed about him was the man’s pair of eyes. They were a light-green with no pupils, but cat-like slits to them. He had curly black hair that he had cut short and caramel skin.

Next was a fair-skinned man, whose eyes too were the first thing about him Sandra noticed. They were an off-white with yellow streaks that reminded her of lightning. His hair was grown out and tips seemingly dyed an electric yellow.

The stranded one of the group was puffing hardly as he barely caught up with his associates. His hair was straight and dark, and eyes smoke-like gray. He had a deep colored skin tone to himself.

The men, or boys as one would say, stopped before her and Smoky Eyes leaned over, balancing himself from his palms on his knees as he caught his breath.

“Nous avons entendu un cri et vous avons vu tomber de l’extérieur de la forêt,” wheezed the cat-eyes stranger with wide and panicked eyes that Sandra could clearly feel as she subconsciously tuned into him. “Est-ce que ça va?” [We heard a scream and saw you falling from outside the forest. Are you okay?]

“Oui,” Sandra said, blinking twice before she answered. She had once prided herself over being fluent in French during the senior year of high school, but nothing could have prepared her for this man’s heavy accent. Eyeing Smoky Eyes, she added, “Va-t-il bien?” [Yes. Will he be okay?]

“Ah, il sera.” The man in question waved away her worries. “J’ai juste des problèmes pour courir et faire du sport de base.” [Oh, I will. I just have problems running and playing basic sport.]

“Vous avez…” She paused. What was French for asthma again? Hoping that these strangers will realize the common word, she meekly continued, “Asthma?” [You have…]

“Excuses, mademoiselle,” the blue-eyed man said, eyeing her plain outfit with only curiosity as an expression to give. But only Sandra could feel his lust emit from him. “Nous avons sauté nos présentation. Qui es-tu ?” [Apologies, miss. We skipped our introductions. Who are you?]

“Et d’où venez venez-vous?” the man with off-white eyes added with a stoic expression. His gaze was frequently distracted from Sandra’s eyes and towards her clothes. He was disgusted and repulsed, Sandra knew. But why though? [And where do you come from?]

“Je ne vois pas en quoi mon héritage compte dans cette situation,” she replied to him with the same tone, priding over the flash of surprise he quickly recovered from. He shouldn’t have bothered. To all of them, she said, “Bonjour tout le monde, je m’appelle Sandra.” [I don’t see how my legacy matters in this situation. Hello everyone, my name is Sandra.]

“Bonjour, mademoiselle Sandra,” Blue-Eyes said with an easy-going smile. “Je m'appelle Rhys. Comment te retrouves-tu à tomber du ciel ?” [Good day miss Sandra. My name is Rhys. How do you end up falling from the sky?]

“Laissez les autres se présenter en premier.” Sandra’s voice was final and authoritative, something that the people surrounding her weren’t used to judging from their uneasiness. [Let others introduce themselves first.]

“Edward,” Smoky Eyes said, who had finally caught his breath and was standing upright. He smiled politely towards her.

“Ken,” said the innocent cat-eyed man. Sandra’s eyebrows rose, but otherwise, she didn’t comment on his name.

Sandra smiled at them both. Other than their curiosity and awkwardness, they harbored no threat to her. She looked expectantly at the one who had been judging her with attire. When he said nothing, she smiled at him a little too sweetly. “Et quel est votre bon nom, monsieur?” [And what is your good name, sir?]

The man rolled his eyes and huffed. “Michael.”

“Ce n'était pas trop dur.” Sandra kept her smile. [It wasn’t too hard.]

Michael only glared at her. “Je vais reposer ma question,” he said accusingly as he eyed her bare arms. “Aucune femme ici n'expose son corps autant que vous. D'où viens-tu ?” [I will ask my question again. No woman here exposes her body as much as you do. Where do you come from?]

“Me? Exposing myself?” Sandra sputtered and looked down at her jeans and short-sleeved t-shirt. “Si seulement j'avais porté des vêtements exposants, cet homme n'aurait pas été subtil avec sa convoitise envers moi. Il serait évident.” She pointed at Rhys. [If only I had worn exposing clothes, this man would not have been subtle with his lust towards me. It would be obvious.]

Sandra didn’t know why she was being so sharp to these men that she didn’t even properly know, but their way of talking, their behavior and lack of knowledge of something as basic as asthma—it made her panic.

Michael paled visibly, and his humiliation cloaked his aura. He crossed his arms over his chest and grunted. Rhys only smirked.

“Viens, tu dois être blessé,” Ken said. He only faltered slightly under Michael’s glare, but otherwise led the way they had come from. Michael walked ahead of him and tried to speak under their breaths, but Sandra was too nosy for her own good. [Come, you must be hurt.]

“Avez-vous besoin de l'inviter à la cabane?” he rushed out in a whisper. “Regardez sa tenue. Elle ne semble certainement pas être d'ici et parle bizarrement aussi. Je m'inquiète pour notre sécurité si elle devait rester sous le même toit que nous.” [Need you invite her to the cabin? Look at her outfit. She certainly doesn’t seem to be from here and talks weird too. I worry about our safety if she were to stay under the same roof as us.]

“Tu sais que je marche juste derrière toi, n'est-ce pas?” Sandra butted in, already having heard enough. “Et ne vous inquiétez pas. Je ne veux pas être ici plus que toi. Je veux juste rentrer à la maison. Où m'emmenez-vous de toute façon ?” Sandra’s attempt at changing the topic was obvious. [You know I am walking right behind you, don’t you? And don’t worry. I don’t want to be here anymore than you. I just want to go home. Where are you taking me anyway?]

“Over our aunt’s,” Edward replied. To the others he said, “Chez tante?” It was more of a question. Michael nodded curtly. [To Aunt’s?]

“You speak English?” she asked him, caught off-guard.

Edward nodded. “I do, indeed. The rest here do not.”

“Thank god you speak English. I wouldn’t always have to speak in French now.”

“Glad I am too.” Edward smiled. “Apart from my aunt, I am the only one speaking my mother tongue here.”

“It must be refreshing.” Sandra stuffed her hands in her pockets and breathed. Edward’s eyes followed her movements, but he otherwise said nothing.

“How did you…” Edward began hesitantly a little while later. “How exactly do you find yourself here though?”

She sighed. She had been expecting that one. “I’m still processing it all, you know,” she said. “And to your question, I frankly don’t know.”

“Qu'est-ce que tu racontes?” Michael asked sharply, his signature glare a little sharper since when she and Edward had begun conversing. [What are you talking about?]

“Ça ne vous concerne pas,” she replied. He only clenched his jaw and looked away, Ken, Edward and Rhys snickering under their breath. [None of your business.]

“Alors, vous les frères ou quoi?” Sandra asked, falling into step with Ken, the most silent person in the entourage. She didn’t miss the way Michael followed her with his sharp gaze. [So, you brothers or what?]

Ken recovered his surprise rather quickly. “Ah, oui. Nous habitons à proximité.” [Oh, yes. We live nearby.]

“Ah.” [Oh.]

“Notre tante est veuve,” Ken continued as the five of them continued walking. “Et franchement... étrange. C'est peut-être pour ça que frère Michael a accepté de te laisser y rester.” [Our aunt is a widow. And frankly… strange. Maybe that’s why brother Michael agreed to let you stay there.]

“Pourquoi? Vous voulez déjà vous débarrasser d'elle ?” [Why? Do you already want to get rid of her?]

“Déesse, non! Tante a vu sa propre part de vie et ne mourrait pas même si une Dague Noire la poignardait.” [Goddess, no! Aunt saw her own share of life and would not die even if a Dagger Black stabs her.]

“Dague Noire?” Sandra inquired. [Dagger Black?]

“Oui. C’est l’arme de Mîsos. Très populaire à travers de le Melhelm.” [Yes. That’s Mîsos’ weapon. Very popular through Melhelm.]

[Melhelm?]

[The empire, of course! Where are you from, I must wonder, miss. All neighboring nations fear the empire greatly.]

“J'ai eu des parents protecteurs,” Sandra lied through her teeth. “Mais vraiment, qu’est-ce que le Melhelm?” [I had protective parents. But really, what is Melhelm?]

“Not a conversation you’d wish to strike knowing that Michael can hear you, miss,” Edward called from ahead. “Do not fret. I suppose our aunt will be delighted to answer all of your strange inquiries.”

“Thank you, Edward. Et merci à vous aussi, Ken.” She smiled at him. [And thank you to you too, Ken.]

“Pas de problème,” he muttered, his cheeks tinting a soft rose color. Sandra laughed and pinched his cheeks. The poor lad looked even more embarrassed. [No problem.]

Sandra chuckled. “He’s adorable,” she muttered.

“Like a kid?” inquired Edward.

“Yes; like a shy toddler.” She laughed.

***

“Oh. My. God,” Sandra breathed when she spotted the cottage sitting in the middle of a field as well-kept as a flower bed. Surrounded by multiple shrubs that would surely bloom at the right time, the cottage had a beautiful and peaceful vibe. The shrubs parted to pave a dirt path to the front door.

The entourage walked through the path and Sandra brushed her hand with the shrubs’ leaves. Their branches extended and bloomed within a matter of seconds and then disappeared about half a minute later. The wind was strangely warm for fall and blew her open hair gently. She noticed the others shivering every now and then, muttering something about the cold in French.

Michael eyed the trail of colorful flowers her hand left in its wake. “Quelles sont encore vos abélites?” [What are your abilities again?]

She only smiled secretly, looking ahead at the path they were all walking on. She heard Michael huff and imagined him eyeing her with distrust.

They reached the door and Michael knocked although Sandra could see him keeping an eye on her.

Shuffling sounds came from beyond the door. “Tante?” said Michael. “C’est nous.” [Aunt? It’s us.]

“Nous qui?” a feminine voice asked. [Us who?]

Michael sighed. “C’est nous, Tante Del. Michael, Ken, Edward et Rhys.” As an afterthought, he added, “Et une fille étrange.” [It’s us, Aunt Del. Michael, Ken, Edward and Rhys. And a strange girl.]

The door opened, revealing a woman who looked no older than 20 with strawberry blonde so glossy, they were almost glowing. Her eyes were orange, just like fire, and skin pale. It was hard to believe that this woman was the aunt the boys talked about. After all, she didn’t have the looks of an aunt, she looked like a friend.

“Une fille étrange?” Del asked. “Pourquoi amèneriez-vous une fille étrange ici?” [A strange girl? Why would bring a strange girl here?]

“Parce que tu es meilleure pour lire les gens,” Rhys replied for Michael, who had moved away from the door slightly. [Because you’re better at reading people.]

“Que je suis,” she said haughtily. Her eyes searched only briefly for her before they found Sandra. She gave her a timid smile. [That I am.]

“She also speaks English,” Edward whispered, although he didn’t need to. Sandra was just beside her, and the rest couldn’t understand him.

Del raised a curious brow. “Do you?”

Sandra forced her smile to broaden. “That, I do.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” she only said. Then, looking at her nephews she said, “Maintenant, shoo, shoo. Je vais parler avec cette fille.” [Now, shoo, shoo. I’m going to talk to this girl.]

“Mais, tante…” Ken began. [But, aunt…]

“Je ne m'attends pas à une visite plus raisonnable aujourd'hui,” Del said. “Rentrez chez vous, votre mère s'inquiétera si vous arrivez trop tard.” [I don’t expect a more reasonable visit today. Go home, your mother will worry if you arrive too late.]

“Mais nous venons d'arriver,” whined Rhys. [But we just arrived.]

“Et tu pars juste.” She looked at Sandra, smiling warmly. “Viens, mon cher.” [And you’re just leaving. Come, my dear.]

Sandra walked to Del’s side, passing through the door. She couldn’t help herself and stuck her tongue out to Michael. His sharp gaze on her didn’t waver.

Del shut the door on the faces of the four brothers, whose whines and stomps could be heard clearly through the door. Sandra chuckled. “They’re kids,” she said.

“Yes, it seems that it isn’t only their physical selves that have stopped aging. They’re still at 20.”

Sandra was startled at her phrase, and she struggled not to show it on her face.

Del continued, perhaps not noticing Sandra’s surprise. “Come now. You look terribly fatigued.” She led her further in the house and settled on a wooden chair.

“Yes, very,” she replied timidly, suddenly feeling shy and nervous about being here. Was this the right decision? She could potentially be risking Del’s life by staying under the same roof as her. Not to mention, she couldn’t trust Del yet. She was a total stranger.

She tried to assure herself that if any situation, Sandra could always defend herself using the spells Cecily had taught her over the past months. Her abilities were lethal as well. It would be much wiser to keep them secret, even if Del could recognize the combination of hair, skin and eyes that Sandra carried. She wasn’t exactly open to danger.

Guilt sank her heart. Del’s situation wasn’t much better. They were both just acquainted. Here Del was–offering her shelter and a place to stay–and she was thinking of ways to defend herself if any psychotic mess spills.

“Why do you stand?” Del asked through a chuckle. “The chambers are up through the stairs. You ought to know which one mine is. The rest you can choose.”

“I can’t even begin to tell you how thankful I am,” she breathed out. “I really owe you a lot for this.”

Del smiled. “I have an inkling that we would be getting along quite well. Go rest. You might want to accompany me to the market tomorrow.”

Sandra smiled back, trying to not feel unsettled by that smile of Del’s. “Yes. Thank you.”

“You’ve thanked plenty, dear.”

She chuckled and headed up the stairs Del had motioned at. Randomly picking the first tidy room she could find, she all but threw herself in the bed.

In the silence with no distractions for her mind, Sandra’s mind went back home. She thought about her adoption, but the fact didn’t sting as much. In fact, she felt as though she’d gotten closure. It was relieving, like a burden atop her shoulders was now gone.

She was glad she had chosen to leave before her emotions got the best of her and made her say things she didn’t truly mean. It was the destination she went to that she regretted most. She should’ve run to Cecily, yell at her maybe, but then fall in her tender embrace soon. Perhaps, she should’ve done something to control herself and her abilities. Perhaps Sandra could’ve prevented herself from traveling to the Mythical Meadows.

Of course, she knew it the moment her brain began functioning properly after that fall from the sky. Or rather, the ground of the Normph Plain.

The animals here were foreign and strange. Not much different from those in the Normph Plain, but even so. And then there came Del’s nephews. Their hair and eyes were much too vibrant for a regular human. Nonetheless, cat-like, orange or off-white colors of the irises weren’t exactly natural for the human species.

Sandra hadn’t been able to deny the feeling of belongingness this place brought to her. Although she still knew this house wasn’t where her fate was, she knew her destiny would lead her to the place she’s supposed to be. That place Sandra was certain was right here, in this realm.

The sight of the dead forest back home haunted her. She didn’t want another reminder of how much destruction she could cause. For the moment, she just put the memory in a distant corner of her mind and vowed to never think of it ever again, consciously or subconsciously.

Oh, she was so tired. Her eyes felt heavy. The fall, dealing with the asshole Michael and the walk here had really tired her. Maybe Del had been able to see it from her appearance. Sandra could only imagine what a walking disaster she must be in the moment.

Sandra dodged all thoughts of whether she’d be reunited with Fiona and Jenny someday. She hoped so with all her heart, and somewhere there, there was this feeling that they’d meet. Perhaps it’d be only once, but she could at least be with them. Hopefully, she would have a chance at fulfilling her promise.

She tried to imagine her birth name. ‘Sandra Borrad.’ She chuckled. Had she heard of this name before? It might just be herself trying to make the association in her head.

‘Sandra Rockwell.’ It was strange how strange this name now sounded to her. Just a matter of hours, and she already recognized herself by another name?

She sighed and shut her eyes. She knew with all her being that she’d forever be Jenny’s daughter and Fiona’s elder sister. And it wasn’t just because of the promise she’d made to Fiona as they had hugged. It was the truth, a truth she hadn’t imposed on herself.

She gulped when the possibility of her forever being separated from Fiona and Jenny flashed in her head.

To distract herself, she redirected her thoughts to Cecily. Her best friend, apparently. The girl who had lied to her face when she had an actual chance to tell the truth. Sandra understood though. The story of her adoption wasn’t hers to tell. It was Jenny’s. But even so, Cecily Borrad had some cleaning to do whenever they met next.

Sandra frowned and sat up, ignoring the loss of ease laying on the bed had brought her. Two names continued to swirl in her head.

Cecily Borrad.

Sandra Borrad.

She thought about it, and the dots slowly joined.

Sandra’s eyes widened. How hadn’t she made this association the moment she’d read her birth name on the adoption papers? And even so, Cecily’s behavior was dropping so many hints. How could Sandra have remained blinded through it all?

She fell to the bed with a sigh, breathing heavily at this new revelation.

Sandra was Cecily’s sister.