"Elyaria: The Awakening"

     Sixteen-year-old Jenesis Edwards stood alone—no one to fight for her, no one to protect her. All those she loved were gone. She didn’t know where or how. The world was dark, with nothing and no one else, just her. She was trapped in an unknown void. The emptiness was heavy, weighing her body down like a long, hard battle. An uneasy feeling came over her. This wasn’t right. She shouldn’t be here. Her heart beat erratically. She dared not speak the words, but she couldn’t stop thinking them. 

     “Where am I? What happened to me? Am I dead?”

     The words danced in the air, echoing across the vastness all around her. It was her voice, alone, the rest was silent. She was lost, as if outside time and space, unable to grasp where or when she was. As a familiar panic rose inside her, strange noises and disembodied voices broke the eerie silence. 

     She spun around. Her eyes darted about. She tried to figure out where it came from. But there was only darkness. The noises grew louder. She tried to make out the sounds. They were chaotic - the clanking of metal, the rustling of armor, belligerent voices. 

     She cupped her ears in pain as the din became unbearable. Just when she thought she couldn’t bear it another second, someone or something grabbed her by the hand. It pulled her swiftly across the empty expanse. Moments later, she was somewhere else, as if she crossed some barrier, between death and life, between the dream world and the real world, between this dimension and the next. She couldn’t explain it. She could just feel it. She looked around, but everything was still shrouded in darkness. But, it was different now. Something was blocking her vision. Realizing her eyes were closed, she quickly opened them. 

     Jenesis was awake. She tried to move, but her body was frozen - paralyzed, like her mind was awake, but her body was still asleep. It’d happened before, more times than she wished—sleep paralysis. That’s what her former psychiatrist, the one her parents forced her to see when she was young, called it. But Jenesis always knew it was more than that. 

     Beads of cold sweat dripped down her face, her body soaked despite the fact that it was the end of October. It was far too cold to be sweating. Her senses slowly returned, and she could feel again — the soft down pillow, the plush quilted bedding. The earthy, refreshing smell of sage filled her senses. She had burned the leaves all over the house that day. To cleanse the energy. To protect the house. For some reason, she felt it needed it. She was back in her bedroom, back in Salem, Massachusetts. Or so she thought.

     Jenesis was still surrounded by darkness. She wanted to turn on her lamp on her nightstand to see if everything was ok. But she was still frozen in a moment of panic, the panic only those whose sleep was plagued by nightmares understood. 

     She desperately tried to move—her arm, her hand, even just her finger, but nothing worked. She could barely breathe. The air was heavy, pressing against her body, threatening to crush her, like someone standing with their foot on her chest, inching closer to her throat, as if she’d been defeated in some unknown battle. 

     Fear built up again inside her heart triggering it to beat faster—the rhythmic drum of a battle march. Something was wrong. Something didn’t feel right. Her hairs stood on end. The room was too silent. No ticking of her owl clock. No snoring of her grandmother downstairs. No music that her twin brother left on after staying up late studying. It was so quiet, the only sounds her own heartbeat and shallow breaths.  

     It was like time had frozen. Her eyes, the only part of her body that was able to move, darted about desperately looking for help. She tried to scream, but she couldn’t — her mouth and vocal cords were paralyzed. Then, she heard it, the sound of another person’s breath, heavy and pained. Her fear turned to terror. She wasn’t alone. 

     There was a presence in her room. And it wasn’t her dog. It was human. She could sense it. She could often sense things. It’s good instincts her mother said. But she always thought it was something more. The body radiated heat throughout the room, burning it up like it had just been in an intense battle. She tried to calm herself. It was probably just one of her siblings. She had three brothers, a twin named Michael, one younger by six years named David, and a sixteen-year-old adopted brother, though no less real, named Liam.

     Finally, her mouth thawed from whatever frozen hell she was in. Able to speak, but only softly, she whispered, “Michael? David? Liam?” 

     No one answered.  

     Maybe it was her grandmother. She rarely came up to the second floor, her frail body unable to climb the stairs. But, she had dementia, and she might be having an episode. 

     “Grandma?” 

     Again, no answer. 

     Whoever it was remained silent. Her heart beat faster. Fear infused blood rushed through her body turning her usually pale, but rose kissed skin, a ghostly shade of white. She sensed darkness in her room, as if light and dark were tangible things that could be felt. She tried to scream for help, but to her growing anxiety, she couldn’t — parts of her vocal cords were still paralyzed. All she could manage was a whisper.

     It must be an intruder. Had they come back to finish the job? Their house had a good security system, but it had one before, and that didn’t stop them.

Not knowing what else to do, she prayed for help — the fearful prayers of those who knew death was near. 

     Then, there was a small movement across the room. Her bedroom door slammed shut, sealing her off from those who could help her.

     She repeated the same prayer, but each time the labored footsteps of someone inched closer to her across the hardwood floor. Each step mimicking the heavy minor drum beats of her heart, an ominous sign of what was to come. The panic in her heart built to a frenzy. She frantically tried to move, to scream, to do anything. 

     But she was still paralyzed. An hour seemed to pass, though it was really only minutes. She’d never had a good perception of time, a flaw her doctors never figured out. Focusing on moving, to her elation, her foot moved. Then, her heart sank, as she realized she didn’t move it, someone grabbed onto it.

     Jenesis’s eyes grew wide. Her heart rate spiked into the red. She barely breathed at all for the weight on her chest, the terror in her heart. Being petite, only five feet, one inch tall, and thin, she wasn’t much of a threat and probably wouldn’t be able to fight against someone larger. Her only chance of defending herself was her dagger. It was hidden beneath her pillow, a strange gift from an old man at a Renaissance Faire, who told her one day it’d save her life. 

     She kept it under there ever since she was 14, ever since that fateful night. The night everything changed, for the worse. She tried again to move her fingers. To her relief, she was able to wiggle them. As the footsteps moved closer, she moved her entire right arm. She dug beneath her pillow, wrapping her fingers tightly around the hilt, gripping it like a lifeline, though she wasn’t sure she was prepared to use it. 

     Then, her left arm regained movement. She reached out to turn on the lamp, but before she could, a frightened, but strong and determined female voice, broke the silence. “No, please don’t.” 

Life returning to her face, Jenesis opened her mouth to scream for help. But the girl implored her not to. Finally able to move, Jenesis sat up and brushed her long golden hair out of her sleep filled eyes—one emerald green, one sapphire blue, to get a better look at the girl.

     The girl came closer, stepping into the beams of silvery light coming from the moon outside her window. She looked around seventeen or eighteen years old, and badly injured with bruises and bloody wounds on her legs, arms, and stomach, barely able to stand. Her clothes, some form of military or warrior uniform, were torn with crimson stains. She carried weapons, a sword in a sheath on her back and a dagger in a leather holster wrapped around her thigh, both handles worn having seen many battles. There was a strange stick harnessed around her other thigh. Jenesis eyed her warily, unsure of her intentions. 

     “Who are you?” Jenesis asked, her voice shaky, preparing at any moment to use the dagger. “What do you want?” She tried to look at the girl’s face, but she was wearing a mask. 

     “I have a message for you. You may not understand now, but must hear.” Her words were cryptic, her voice panicked. Jenesis’s confusion showed on her face, but the girl went on, “The darkness is reborn.” As if she was on high alert, she scanned the room with each word, like she wasn’t just looking for someone, but expecting someone. The girl whispered, “He is coming for you. The Heart of Avalon is the key.”

     Jenesis shifted on her bed, uneasy. She’d heard those words before, many times. All but the last sentence. It was as if they were haunting her, ever since that night. But, she never knew what they meant. Then, she realized how absurd all of that sounded. It all started that night. It was the trauma. It was just her imagination. She was no longer afraid, chalking it up to a crazy dream she was having after watching too many fantasy movies. She laid back down, closed her eyes, and waited for the dream to pass.

     Frustrated at her indifference, the girl snapped. “You must listen! I haven’t much time! The past is repeating itself. Your karma has followed you. What was will be again, unless you change your fate, break the karmic pattern. You must follow your instincts. When the time comes, you must rip out page 125 from the book and hide it in your boot.”

     “Karmic pattern? What?” Jenesis asked, grasping on to that first.

     The girl sighed, as if not wanting to take the time to explain it. She spoke quickly. “Everything you say, think, and do creates karma that comes back to you in this life or future lives. If you do good things in your life, good things will happen to you in the future. If you do bad things in your life, bad things will happen. And then, some things happen in your life, obstacles you face, from a failure in school to a bad breakup in a relationship to an unexpected death that create deep wounds that are karma as well. The karma that you create yourself or from your life’s experiences carries with you into each new life creating a karmic pattern. The only way to break the karmic pattern that is bad is to heal the wounds it has created and make different choices to end the cycle. Until then, the karma will keep coming back causing the past to repeat itself.”

     “What are you talking about? You’re not making any sense. Do you need help? Are you in trouble?” she asked, then grasping on to something else, added, “And what book?”

     The girl just kept looking around, panicked. When she didn’t see anyone, she turned back to Jenesis, and said, “If you want to help me, just do as I say, and stop asking questions. When the time is right, you’ll understand my message.”

     Jenesis was sure now that this was a dream. It was all just way too strange. She thought that she could either force herself to wake up or follow the dream and see where it leads. Curious where the dream was going and if it had some meaning for her waking life, she decided to go along with it.

     The girl stood there, pleading with her eyes, and said, “Promise me you’ll do as I say.”

     Seeing it was important to her, she said, “Yes.” She was about to try and help the girl when something moved in the darkness. Emerging from the shadows into the beam of moonlight was a tall, burly figure wearing a black hooded cape and some sort of black military uniform. There was a noticeable, large, gold medallion around the figure's neck that had a bunch of crystals on it. It just stood there, quietly, stealthily. It appeared to have been watching them. She tried to make out its face, but the hood and a mask covered it all, save the eyes and mouth, which was contorted into a menacing scowl. Seeing it’d been discovered, the figure drew a sword from behind its back and lunged for the girl.

     Jenesis sensed darkness in this figure. Not just because of how it was dressed, but because of its energy. It radiated anger and hate, so much that it was all she could feel. No happiness. No love. Its soul was dark. 

     She screamed at the girl, “Watch out!” But the girl already had her sword in hand, prepped to fight. It was as if she knew this person was coming, like this battle had been going on for a while.

     The room was shrouded in darkness, only intersected by a few pockets of radiant silvery moonlight streaming in from her bedroom’s bay window. 

     The figure came at the girl, sword tight in both hands. It swung it toward the girl’s abdomen with a brutality that frightened Jenesis, spreading an eerie chill all over her body. 

     It’s just a dream, she tried to reassure herself.

     A loud clank shattered the night’s innocent silence. 

     To Jenesis’s relief, the girl blocked it.

     The girl and the figure stood face to face, their swords pressed tightly together. 

     Jenesis just sat there on her bed, entranced, unable to move. She thought that it couldn’t be real. She was prone to nightmares of things similar to this, so it didn’t faze her much . . . at first. 

Their swords scratched across one another, like nails on a chalkboard, as the two strangers circled each other.

     Jenesis couldn’t help but squirm in discomfort at the blood-curdling sound, the herald of dark things to come.

     Their swords sparkled in the moonlight as if they were infused with flecks of jewels, creating dancing lights all over Jenesis’s room. They reminded her of the swords of knights in Medieval Europe, like the long sword, but smaller, and judging by the way the two maneuvered them, they were lighter and easier to handle.

     They struggled, their bodies locked together, every muscle flexed, each trying to wrestle the sword away from the other with sheer force.

     The figure was clearly stronger, but the girl fought back with the strength that only could come from the heart. Her eyes burned. She was fighting for something important, for something greater than herself. And she wasn’t about to surrender.

     The figure tried to muscle the sword from her, its size and stature far greater than hers, but she used his strength against him and twisted her sword, breaking free. She was clever.

     The figure growled menacingly, not liking to be bested, and went on the attack, lunging at her, its sword thrusting at her chest. 

     They parried their swords back and forth, crossing the length of her room, each matching the other’s strikes. Her feet were light, like she was floating on air, and his were heavy, pounding on the floor with every step. They had only a small area to fight within, to use theirs swords freely. Jenesis’s room was small, a typical teenager’s room, cluttered and messy. 

     She thought about screaming for her brothers, or calling the police, but she’d convinced herself this was just a vivid dream or a hallucination from the cold medicine she took the previous night.

     Jenesis watched intently. Then, they moved into the shadows, and she could no longer see them. She could only hear them now, dark sounds in the quiet of the night, the clank and clink of the metal echoing through the still air. The nail scratching sound as they cut across each other, like a maniacal chef sharpening its knives.

     Her heart raced as she anticipated each sound, imagining what was happening, who was winning. Even though she knew nothing of her, she worried for the girl, for somehow this fight affected her. If the girl was killed, what would become of her?

     They tore through her room, knocking over furniture, breaking her possessions, making enough noise that Jenesis was shocked no one heard. Then again, her grandmother’s room was downstairs, and she was hard of hearing. David took some medicine, too, so, usually a light sleeper, now he was out cold. And Michael and Liam, while only a few doors down, slept like they were under sedatives. Michael’s sleep was always peaceful unlike David and hers nightmare filled sleep. But, he wasn’t there that night. He didn’t see what they saw, so that was perhaps why he could sleep unencumbered by darkness.

     The loud clank of swords drew her out of her thoughts and back into the fight.

     The two strangers stepped back into the moonlight, the figure back on the attack.

     The figure came at the girl using brute force, its sword pointed again at her chest. But the girl was quicker and more limber. She swiftly knocked his sword away and sidestepped him. Unable to stop its momentum, its body slammed unceremoniously into the wall, its sword stabbing right through it. 

     Momentarily dazed, the figure tried to pull its sword out, but it was stuck. The figure pulled and twisted it, like an angry bear, not liking being made to look silly.

     The girl gestured to Jenesis to get out of there, but she was frozen on her bed. 

     It’s just a dream. I’m not in any real danger. 

     And if she was, if this was real, if she left that room, she’d be leading this dangerous person right to her brothers, and while Michael and Liam were skilled enough to fight back, David was only 10. She wasn’t going to put them in danger. Whatever this was, it had to end there.

     Jenesis not responding, the girl grabbed her by the arm demanding she leave. She jumped at the touch. The girl touched her again. The first touch felt surreal, but this time it felt more real than any dream. 

     Was this real? 

     Not waiting for her mind to answer, she picked up her cell phone to dial 911, but the girl tore it out of her hand and tossed it across the room. It slammed against the wall shattering into pieces.

Just as Jenesis was about to curse the girl out, the figure yanked the sword out of the wall in one strong movement, then swung around, and thrust it at the girl. 

     But one of the girl’s eyes had remained on the figure. She turned and matched its sword, move for move, warding off every attack.

     The figure thrusted and stabbed toward her chest and neck, trying to strike a deadly blow. It was serious. It was out for blood. It wanted to kill her. Yet, the girl only sought to wound the figure, disable it from fighting. For whatever reason, she didn’t want to kill it.

     Jenesis followed them until they fell back into the shadows. She listened for every move. The clanking, clinging, and ringing of the swords striking each other sounded like music, soft and lyrical at times, others loud and feverish. Her heart raced to the beat. 

     Every so often, the girl nodded to her to get out of there, but she found herself frozen on her bed, whether out of some strange force or just fear.

     Their feet shuffled across her floors like they were in some sort of deadly dance, yet she had no idea how deadly.

      Every time the two of them passed into the moonlight, the figure was always on the attack. Whether the girl didn’t have the strength and skill to attack or whether she didn’t have the ferocity, Jenesis didn’t know. But not all fights are won on the offensive.

     The swordplay became increasingly furious as the two knocked swords back and forth like an Olympic fencing match. Despite the figures strength, the girl appeared to be just a little more skilled, and in one brilliant move that clearly the girl had been planning steps ahead like a game of chess, she knocked the sword from the figure’s hand and pointed her sword to its neck.

     “Surrender!” she commanded.

     The figure grinned wildly as if it enjoyed fighting, especially with a worthy opponent, though it would never admit it of the girl. But the girl’s compassion was her flaw. Its grin turned wicked and it quickly struck back, using its dagger to knock her sword away, but her grip was tight, so it didn’t fall to the ground.

     The figure sprung into a backflip, grabbing its sword off the ground, and landing in the perfect stance to go on the attack again.

     Jenesis couldn’t help but admit that it was an impressive move.

     The figure had the advantage now.

     It drove the girl back across the room, like a knight to a peasant.

     She parried every strike of its sword, but responded slower each time. She was growing tired. 

     Jenesis was worried.

     They crossed back into the shadows.

     There was a loud rip as one of their swords slashed through the other’s clothing. 

     The girl shrieked. It was her clothes and judging by the pain in her voice, it drew blood.

     An eternity seemed to pass, a pregnant silence, and then they fell back into the moonlight. 

     Jenesis thought that the girl fought valiantly, but the girl was weaker than the guy, clearly injured, like she was worn down from some earlier battle. She knew the girl wasn’t going to last much longer, but she didn’t know what to do. If this was a dream, which she was starting to doubt, it wouldn’t matter what she did. But what if it wasn’t?

     Just as the thought crossed her mind, the guy parried the girl’s sword with his, knocking it out of her weakened hand, disarming her. The guy’s lips curled into a satisfied sneer. She could feel the hate he had for the girl, it radiated off of him like the heat from the sun. Yet, she felt nothing from the girl. It was like she was blocking her. 

     The girl’s back was against the wall. She was pinned. Dark blood was streaming down her left arm where her shirt was torn. The wound was deep.

     Jenesis’s pulse quickened at the thought of what was about to happen. She was concerned. For reasons she didn’t know, she felt connected to the girl, even though she was sure they’d never met.  

     The figure spoke. It was a guy, and judging by his youthful tone, he was in his early twenties. “Surrender!” he ordered, the tip of his sword at the girl’s neck. “If you throw yourself on the mercy of his highness then maybe your life will be spared. You can spend your days in jail, but a least you’ll be alive, which is more than you can say of your worthless friends.”

     To Jenesis’s surprise, the girl refused, with more conviction and strength than Jenesis thought she had left. 

     The girl gave a mischievous smile, “I’ll never surrender to you. You may think you’ve won, but time isn’t fixed, it can be shaped, molded, to whoever has the power. Events have yet to reach their conclusion.”

     A maniacal smirk came across the guy’s face, and he said, as if he had been waiting for this for a while, “Then, prepare to die!”

     The girl tried to fight back, but she was trapped. The blade of its sword inched closer to her throat. Her eyes were wild. Jenesis didn’t know what to do. She knew how to fight, but she never got in a real fight before that she could remember, and she didn’t know how to fight with swords. She was afraid. As she stared helplessly into the girl’s eyes, she couldn’t help but notice they were turning a luminescent dark purple. It was like they were glowing. And then darkness. The whole room went dark. The rays of moonlight were gone. A dark cloud had eclipsed the moon. Gusts of wind tore through her room as if something rhythmic was flapping. Something around the girl was glowing an iridescent purple. It looked like . . . no, but it couldn’t be. She couldn’t even say it. Saying it would make it real, not to mention make her sound completely mad.

     The windows to her room burst open, and the loud growling of every animal in the neighborhood came flooding in. Jenesis covered her ears unable to bear the piercing sound, but the wails were too loud. She climbed off the bed to shut the window when an army of winged animals, birds or bats she wasn’t sure, shot through her window like missiles, and attacked the guy. He cursed and screamed while attempting to fight them off. A pack of dogs barked, howled, and growled outside her window. Were she not on the second floor, she was sure they would have come in as well. She could hear her own dog on the other side of the bedroom door scratching feverishly to come in.

     With an unceremonious thump, the guy fell hard to the floor as he was scratched, bitten, and rammed by a flock of really pissed off birds and bats. Amidst his curses and screams, he could only utter out a few audible words. “ . . . illegal . . . severe punishment . . . for all!”

     Jenesis didn’t understand, but the girl did. Suddenly, the large purple object in her room stopped glowing, and the winds abated. And as if they were dismissed, all the birds and bats flew out the window, and the growling stopped.

     The cloud passed over the moon, and once again a few rays of moonlight shone in.

     The girl struggled to stand, as if whatever just happened took a lot out of her. She was covered in so much blood now that it looked as if she walked out of some horror movie about the prom. She fell back against the wall, barely able to stand. Jenesis knew she needed a moment to recover.

     The guy climbed to his feet, covered in blood as well, and feathers. Lots of feathers, stuck to his bloodied clothes and skin like tar. He gripped his sword tightly, rage in his eyes, and lunged for the girl.

     Considering that Jenesis still believed this was some dream or hallucination, she didn’t really think of the consequences of what she was about to do. Driven by deep feelings she didn’t know she had, she leaped at the guy full force. Seeing how he wasn’t expecting that, she easily tackled him to the ground. Not knowing how to use a sword, she had to rely on her fists. She wildly swung at his face. She got in a few good shots, punching him in the eye and in the nose, all of which was far more painful on her hands than she’d imagined. However, it seemed less to actually hurt him than just to irritate him, like the buzzing of flies. But, it gave the girl a moment to recover and retrieve her sword. Seeing this, the guy quickly and forcefully threw Jenesis off of him with more strength than she knew he had. It seemed like he had the strength of five men. He threw her across the room, her body slamming hard against the wall, knocking a few pictures off which fell mockingly on her head. For a moment, she was stunned. The wind was knocked out of her. She dizzily gazed up at the girl and guy who had resumed fighting. She could feel the intense passion each was fighting with, as if what was at stake was more than their own lives.

     Unable to stand, Jenesis crawled to a corner in her room to try to stay out of the fray.

     The girl seemed to have gotten a second wind and was fighting with greater conviction.

     Jenesis couldn’t help but think how brave the girl was. She wished she was brave, too, but she knew she wasn’t after what happened.

     A loud crash drew her out of her thoughts as she looked over to see the hooded figure lying on the floor in a pile of debris that was her full-length mirror, his sword a few feet away. The girl’s sword was at his neck again.

     “Do it!” he laughed, his eyes dark with madness. 

     But, she just stood there. 

     “You can’t, can you? I know you too well. You could never kill me, at least not in this life,” he said.

     The girl’s sword wavered in front of his neck. It was clear she didn’t want to kill him or perhaps, she couldn’t.

     Before Jenesis could silence herself, she said, “Do it!” She was stunned at her own words. She knew nothing of this guy, and yet, deep down, she felt he deserved to die. But she’d never wished death upon anyone before.

     Even the girl stood there in shock, so much so that she forgot what she was doing. 

     And in that moment of uncertainty, the guy used his right leg to powerfully kick the girl’s sword out of her hand.

     Both disarmed, they leaped, sliding across the freshly cleaned floors, to grab their swords.

Rearmed, they began again, neither showing any sign of giving up, though both clearly injured and fatigued now. They moved slower, responded less quickly.

     The moon had sunk in the sky, the light dimming through the window. She could barely see anything now, just the little light reflected off their blades.

     Out of the darkness, grunts and growls were coming from the two as the fighting grew more intense.

     Needing to see what was going on, she desperately looked around for a light. The hit had disoriented her. She felt around, blindly. Somewhere in the darkness, she felt a switch and quickly turned on the light.

     Temporarily blinded by the brightness, all she saw was white. When the room came into focus, the guy disarmed the girl in one swift move, tossing her sword out of her hand, and this time, not wanting to give her a chance to recover, stabbing her hard in the abdomen. The sword sliced all the way through her. She collapsed onto her knees, her hands covering her wound. Her eyes, the only part of her face Jenesis could see as the rest was covered with a mask were wide with shock. She fell backward against the wall, sitting motionless, the realization of what had happened and what was to come, weighing upon her heart.

     A menacing grin of satisfaction and victory spread across the guy’s face. 

     Despite that her end was before her, she didn’t plead for mercy. She just waited for the inevitable, a strange look of hope in her eyes.

     Looking at Jenesis as if she was nothing, he pulled his sword out of the girl, it dripping gruesomely with fresh blood, and moved toward her, as if preparing to kill her, as well. She scrambled to get away from him, but there was nowhere to go. He was blocking the door and the window. She kept blinking her eyes trying to wake up. She tried pinching herself. But it was no use. Dream or not, she couldn’t escape. 

     The girl quickly spoke. “The girl’s no harm to you,” she said, struggling to speak because of her wounds.

     The guy grimaced. “What’s your connection to this hideous girl?” he asked, referring to Jenesis.

     Hideous? That’s rather offensive. Then, she caught a glimpse of herself in the broken pieces of the mirror. She had on an olive overnight face mask. But, it wasn’t just that, her face looked different, distorted, like it wasn’t her own. She looked down in embarrassment, which was a strange action considering he was about to kill her. 

     “I came here by accident,” the girl said. But seeing that wasn’t going to deter him, she pleaded, “It’s one thing to kill someone in battle, it’s another to murder someone in cold blood.” 

     Somehow the words spoke to some small part of honor in him, and he withdrew his sword, putting it in his sheath. Knowing Jenesis was safe now, the girl fell to the floor nearly lifeless. That’s when Jenesis saw it. She couldn’t help but gasp in a mixture of shock and terror. The mask fell off the girl’s face illuminating what had been hidden. For a moment, she stopped breathing, even her heart stopped beating, for when she looked at the girl’s face, she saw her own, a little older and weathered, but hers. It can’t be me. And yet . . . Before she could say anything, the guy pulled out a stick from around his thigh and said something under his breath. As he pointed the stick at her, his hood shifted, and she couldn’t help but notice a large scar across his neck from ear to ear. He gave Jenesis a final look of derision, and then she passed back into a nightmare filled sleep.