Home

         Miriam closed her eyes and could picture it: a lone pier extended into a cove at dusk with mountains in the distance. It was a place she knew every detail of; a place she dreamed almost nightly of; a place she had never been.
         Tonight she felt the wind. Unlike the normal serenity she associated with the images, it held no peace. The icy chill stung her face and hands, slipping through her clothes as if nothing separated her from the artic cold.
         With a shudder, she closed her dreaming eyes, intending to return to the waking world. Yet, she remained.
         The wind increased with a howl, whipping around her with a force that nearly knocked her from her feet. The water, which rarely moved, lapped against the shore closer and closer.
         Unsure of what else to do, she opened her eyes to the dreamscape once more. The world was changing as never before.
         The sky darkened and fillied with swollen storm clouds. The wind increased in strength and chill. Waves gained height and speed, lashing the shore with palpable anger.
         “What is it,” she asked, “What have I done?”
         A voice arose on the wind. Cold and lifeless, it pierced her. “You turned your back on us.”
         “How?” she pleaded.
         “In silence. In denial.”
         And suddenly, the dreamscape went silent. The wind and the waves ceased as if they had never been. And somehow, their absence was even worse.
         A smoky, transparent image slipped from nowhere and coalesced in a vaguely human form before her. Its partial face bore an expression of utter despair.
         “You deny us. This place is but a dream in your eyes.” Its eyes seemed to bore into her. “We are not a dream. Or a hallucination. Or an overactive imagination. We are your people.” He glared at her a moment, allowing his words to sink in. “It is time you accepted it… and came home.”
         “Home?” she asked, her expression exposing a life of unanswered questions. Unable to decide in an instant the best way to being, she chose: “Where is my home?”
         “The realm of Maklar where your mother was queen. It was a place of good where no evil dare.” (pause) “Then one bright, sunny morning, a stranger paid the Shimmering Castle a visit. He was greeted with open arms as all strangers are. No one saw him for what he was.
         The wraith’s tone shifted from anger to sadness; his despair deepened. “Within hours, the queen’s blood, her advisors, and her consort’s, stained the halls. Only chance saved you. Your nanny had fallen asleep at her mother’s with you in her arms.” (pause) “News soon reached her and she fled into the realm of Earth through a magic pool.”
         “What can I do?”
         “Find a full length mirror and tap the surface three time and tell it to take you home.” (pause) “A man you know, but do not truly know, will come with you. His heart is strong but scarred. Trust him, as you have trusted no other, and your mother’s throne will be yours.”
         The wraith held out a wispy hand and grasped hers. An icy cold like nothing she had ever felt enveloped her hand. Then, without warning, the wraith faded, slipping from view as it had appeared, and with it went the dream realm she had known for so long until there was nothing left to see.
         She bolted forward in bed, her skin still chilled as if she had actually stood with the wraith. She looked at her numb hand she had unknowingly balled into a fist.
         “What is this?” she whispered faintly, examining an odd silver charm sitting on her thumb, its chain obviously held in her fist.
         No answer came, but the chill suddenly left her hand as she touched the charm.
         Without thinking, as if on automation, she shifted the necklace to both hands and brought it to her neck, quickly fastening it. Only then did she realize what she had done.
         Before being able to react, a warm, oddly familiar voice filled her mind. “It is time daughter. Time to come home and claim your throne.”
         Confused and uncertain, she moved from her bed and toward her bedroom door. There was only one way to know for sure. The attic held her grandmother’s antique, full length mirror.
         The trip from her bedroom to the attic was brief. She heard the kitchen door open and the sound of the housekeeper’s son in the kitchen as she crossed the second floor toward the attic stairs. She heard his footsteps on the lower stairs as she climbed toward the attic. It never occurred to her that he would follow.
         Within moments of reaching the attic, she found and uncovered the gilded, antique mirror. The encounter with the wraith and the resulting necklace consumed her; she did not hear his approach.
         Nervous, she hesitated, trying to rationalize the experience. With no internal argument explaining it, she took a deep breath and tapped the mirror three times.
         “I want to go home.”
         Gavin entered the attic as she tapped the mirror and was seriously wondering if she had lost her mind when she spoke to it. When the mirror blackened in response, he reacted.
         As he crossed the brief distance between the door and the mirror, a gray mist swirled from the mirror and encompassed her. It drew her toward the blackness. He grabbed her arm as she stepped one foot into the mirror and attempted to pull her back. Even with his strength, he did not budge her. Instead, the gray mist swirled around him and pulled them both within.
         From the darkness came light. The gray mist lightened and vanished, leaving them standing in the main room of a cabin illuminated by the gray light of a stormy day.
         They barely had a moment to react to their new location before an elderly woman’s voice captured their attention. Their eyes shifted from each other to her. She stood barely five feet; her face wore time in folds; but her posture was straight. She held herself with the quiet dignity of a woman who would not go silently into her final night.
         “Good, you have come. There is little time.”
          She spoke, before he could. “Where is the castle?”
         “Down the woodland path and over the hill.”
         Without a word, Miriam took Gavin’s hand with hers, and led toward the cabin door. Unsure of what to say, or do, he followed.
         Once outside, he squeezed her hand and stopped firmly, keeping her from moving. “What is going on?”
         “I will explain on the way.”
         He stared at her a moment and realized she would not give in. Uncertain of what else to do, he lessened his grip on her hand and they started moving toward the path again.
         She explained about the dreamscape she had been seeing since she was little and about the unusual dreams she had. Early on, her adopted mother worried that her dreams of dark men and crumbling castles were an indication of something more then an overactive imagination; the psychiatrist disagreed.
         The dreams had in time become a serene landscape she had found solace in no matter what until today when it changed and the wraith spoke.
         “It was right. I did not believe anymore. I wanted to make peace with my mother and turned my back on the dreams I once knew were much more then dreams.”
         As he tried to think of what to say, faced with the impossible nature of the situation, they reached the top of the hill. Beyond the tree line was a desolate valley where nothing lived. The breeze smelled of decay.
         In the distance stood a massive stone wall with large wooden doors hanging at odd angles.
         “In my dreams, the massive wall contains a decrepit city with no hope. Few people remain. They are sick and tired and broken.” She started moving down the hill where a line seemed to be drawn between the living forest and the dead valley. “The walls are no longer guarded; there is nothing to guard them from. The castle within holds the tyrant and his remaining guards. He lived for power; now he has nothing to control.”
         “How are you suppose to claim the throne?”
         “I don’t know.”
         Without ideas, he had no suggestions. He simply followed her down the hill.
         They crossed the valley in silence, the long walk compounded by the spiritual weight of the decayed landscape. The only sound in the valley was an eerie metal creak apparently made by the decrepit doors moving slowly in the wind.
         It felt like an eternity had past before they reached the walls. As they past the weathered, rotten wood, the sound of people rose on the air. The shuffle of feet on cobblestones, the occasional bark of what sounded like a feral dog and a stench beyond anything they had ever imagination indicated there was life.
         Gavin who had seen war and death and unspeakable things in-between was disturbed by the horror they found entering the city. Its people were not only ill-clothed and filthy but disillusioned beyond anything his military career had shown him. They trudged along with no apparent purpose, their eyes blank and uncaring.
         By the time they reached the castle through listless streets, they wondered silently if there was anyone worth saving. 
         The castle bridge was down and the doors open. They crossed the sludge-filled moat, occasionally catching a movement in the murk that neither wanted identified.
         The interior of the castle appeared empty, although they heard sounds that were unidentifiable but indicated they were not alone. She led across the foyer and to the door of the throne room.
         Her hand hesitated above the elaborate doorknob. “I don’t know what I am suppose to do.”
         He squeezed her hand. “There is no way to tell with the information we have.”
         She exhaled loudly, closed her eyes briefly and concluded she could not stand there forever. With that in mind, she slowly opened the door.
         The first thing they noticed was the smell. It was stale and dusty. It did not smell like anything lived.
         Inside, the room was dimly lit, its source not readily obvious. When their eyes adjusted to the gloom, they realized the floor was littered with armored skeletons. A couple moments later, they realized a figure sat against the far wall, his eyes open and staring.
         “I have come for my mother’s throne.”
         “A decrepit castle full of bodies and a city of soulless shells.”
         “If that was all there was, I would not be here.”
         The tyrant stood, his body and clothing creaking from age and lack of movement. He crossed the room until he stood about two feet from them. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared.
         A flash of insight came to her mind. The throne was important. Important enough that he had not left it in sometime. She wondered if that was the answer.
         Miriam released Gavin’s hand and attempted to move around the tyrant. The tyrant shifted to block her path.
         “Why do you want a decrepit castle full of bodies?”
         “Its mine.”
         She looked to Gavin. He nodded.
         “You will let me pass.”
         “No.”
         She moved back, out of reach, and then started around him. When he moved to intercept, Gavin grabbed him by the throat. Gavin gritted his teeth while maintaining his grip and watching her move. Touching the tyrant was agonizing; a feeling of cold unlike anything he had ever felt gripped his hand and crawled up his arm.
         When Gavin did not release him immediately, the tyrant began to struggle but to no avail; Gavin withstood the pain because he had felt much worse for much less in the past.
         She reached the throne and took a deep breath before settling herself into the seat. Instantly, a bell chimed in a distant tower and quickly grew louder. As the chimes grew, a warmth emanated from the throne. An unexplained light illuminated the throne room starting with the throne and moving out.
         When the light reached the tyrant, he screamed an unholy sound and thrashed in Gavin’s grip before bursting into flame. Gavin released him to avoid being burned.
         Within moments, the throne room was transformed from dark and gloomy to light and beautiful. The bodies, including the tyrants’, were gone.
         Unsure of what to do, they observed their beautiful surroundings.
         Their thoughts were interrupted by the wraith’s return. It slipped into the room from nothingness several feet from the throne.
         “What do we do now?”
         “Time will tell.”