"Come on, John, show us what's out there!" Julie's voice was a spark of light, her excitement bright as the sun on the sky as she laced up her shoes with an energy that threatened to overflow.
Jake, too, was caught up in the anticipation, a smile playing on his lips as he entertained Julie's bubbling curiosity. It was an infectious mood, one that, under different circumstances, might've drawn me in as well. The circumstances that brought us here were chewing at the back of my brain.
I managed a half-hearted smile in return. "Alright, let's take a look around," I conceded, my words heavy with a reluctance that I could feel clinging to my shoulders like a cloak. Jake gave me an understanding look.
I'm sure he didn't fully understand my hesitation.
The truth was, my childhood sanctuary had lost its vastness over the years. What once seemed an endless realm of possibilities had shrunk with each passing year, each journey to "far-off" places constricting the borders of my world ever smaller. Every time I traveled to other realms for school trips, I made the familiar corridors of home seem narrower in return. The realm is a mere few miles in length and width and no more than 250 meters from "sky" to "earth." Every corner was a patchwork quilt of memories and experiences — every inch not claimed by a home, a playground of my childhood.
But it was more than a diminutive geography that weighed on me. The last great war had scattered people like seeds in the wind, and this cube of earth and sky had been their landing strip, a place created in secret. It acted like a sanctuary that now could only be reached through portals. With the tether that bound it to its origin point gone, it was an island adrift in the sea of realms, isolated and self-contained. That was done on purpose to give people a place to survive.
In fact, the original portal for this realm was put in the labyrinth to make any invasion nearly impossible.
But that was all history. Recent history, but history nonetheless.
Jake and Julie waited as I put my shoes on. Julie's babbling brought me out of my dark thoughts. I forced a smile. "Okay, okay. Let me get my shoes on."
KyGerNi's presence was announced with a gentle "woof" from behind. The three-headed canine approached, dropping a leather coin pouch at our feet before retreating a step, each head wearing a look that was oddly reminiscent of Dad—proud, protective, and a touch mischievous.
From the kitchen, Dad's voice floated out to us, "Thought you might need some walking-around coin. Try to come back with a little change, eh?" His tone was light, but there was an undercurrent of fatherly instruction there.
Julie's face lit up. She stepped forward and extended her hand. KyGerNi tiled all three heads. Julie took one final step forward, and she patted KyGerNi affectionately on two of its heads. Affection shone in her eyes. The third head wined, and Julied moved her hands and rubbed the third head's ears on both sides. A deleted wine came from that head as the other two complained.
Jake, however, held back a step, his wariness towards the familiar clear. I understood his hesitation; Aunt Freya's dogs had been less than welcoming to me, and I could see the same discomfort and weariness I had on my face.
I softly said, "Come on Julie. You wanted to go for a walk, or should I take my shoes off."
Julie leaned forward and hugged all three heads, unable to reach around the necks, and whispered, "I'll be back soon." She turned with a twirl and walked to the door. As I opened the door, Jake and I stepped out behind her.
My childhood home was at the edge of the residential district. Standing at the edge of the driveway, I gestured towards the different landmarks. "Over there are the farm fields; that way leads to the dryad's forest, and a more mundane forest is in that direction. The town square is over there, which is where you'll find the portal we came through, and if you follow that way, you hit the commercial district. We can take the outer trail towards the town square first, see if anything's still open, and then loop back home the long way. How does that sound?"
Jake and Julie exchanged a look, their synchronized shrug speaking volumes of their trust in my guidance. I failed to suppress a chuckle at their mirrored actions.
"Let's just see where our feet take us," I said with a smile, leading the way.
We meandered along the outer rim trail, a footpath that skirted the edge of residential life and bordered the beginnings of an agricultural expanse. Julie and Jake were mesmerized by the multitiered farm areas, where rows upon rows of crops thrived, nourished by the gentle glow of magic crystals. These crystals, pulsing with light and warmth, were the heartbeat of our food production. Our realm was able to produce all our food and even export a decent amount.
"These layers," I explained, "were constructed during the great war, a strategic move to maximize space and sustenance. It's efficient, if not a bit... compact." Above us, Caelumkin, beings of grace that the many simply called Angels, soared between the levels, their wings catching the last rays of light transitioning between the growing light and the "Sun" in the sky.
The path was alive with the evening bustle—Centaurs, satyrs, elves, humans, and a parade of other beings descending stairs and elevators from the farms headed to their homes. I caught the glint of spider silk in the distance, a reminder of the arachnid villages nestled among the dryads and the floating forest.
Our stroll took us no more than ten minutes before we emerged around the parade gate into the town square, the realm's cultural heart, with the portal station at one end. Around the edge, the square boasted a mosaic of churches and temples, their spires reaching for the open air. As much as the architecture impressed, it was the practitioners who brought the stones to life. One such practitioner, standing on a platform in front of one of the temples, wove illusions that danced across the cobblestones, storytelling through magic that captivated Julie and Jake.
The display elicited gasps and murmurs of awe from Jake and Julie. I watched their faces light up the same way mine did years ago when I first witnessed the spectacle. The practitioner, noticing our rapt attention, infused his performance with even greater vigor, the images growing more vivid and enchanting.
Before we moved on, I fished out a few copper coins from the pouch Dad had provided and tossed them into the collection brazier. The performance ate up a good 15 minutes of time. Julie didn't want to leave as the practitioner began his next performance.
Julie's eyes sparkled with recognition as we approached the shopping street, her finger jabbing eagerly toward it. "We are going there," she declared with a determination that was all too familiar.
Jake's response came with a gentle reminder and a smile. "Uncle Zepher said everything was closed," he pointed out, causing Julie's excitement to dip into a pout.
The pouting didn't last long.
"That's fine. I'll just plan for later," Julie conceded, her voice resolute. "It's been years since I was last here. I was much younger." Her gaze lingered on the darkened storefronts.
"You're still a kid," Jake teased, tousling her hair in an affectionate gesture.
Julie's hand swatted at his, a playful huff escaping her lips as she brushed off his comment.
The shop street ended at Memorial Park, a silent sentinel of history amidst the life of the realm. As we entered, the air seemed to hold the whispers of the past. Daedalus's constructs, intricate and frozen in time, depicted our realm's founding tales amid a labyrinth of flowers and shrubs. The park was a tapestry woven with the threads of countless stories, its beauty a stark contrast to the struggles it commemorated.
"John, what does this say?" Julie's request pulled me from my thoughts as she pointed to a plaque inscribed in a language she didn't understand.
I translated, my voice skipping over the darker tales etched into the metal, choosing to shield them from the harsher truths of our history. There was no need for Julie to shoulder the full burden of our past. History is a bloody and barbaric thing...
Jake's voice, filled with a mixture of awe and respect, broke the silence that followed my rendition. "This place is incredible," he murmured, his gaze sweeping over the statues and blooms.
"It's more than history; it's our legacy," I found myself saying the same words Dad told me when he would take me to these memorial parks in the realms. "Though we're tucked away from the world, what we've built here is a testament to our spirit."
As we continued walking through the park, wondering why I said Dad's phrase.
As we ventured into the residential district on the opposite side of the realm from my home, the playful sounds of the local playground greeted us. Julie and Jake slowed to a halt, their eyes widening in amazement at the sight of the children. There was nothing unusual to me; arachnids climbed their webs with the ease of mages levitating beside them, centaurs kicked balls with precision, and angels flitted above, all under the watchful eyes of their diverse parents.
I watched Jake and Julie, their shock mirroring the expressions of many who hadn't grown up with such diversity. "Just the neighborhood kids," I said, pointing out a few I recognized from my dad's school.
Suddenly, a group of exuberant children Julie's age encircled us, their curiosity alight in their eyes. "Who are you?" "Where are you from?" "Wanna play?" they chimed, their innocence and excitement piercing the quietude of the coming evening.
One of the parents, a figure known to me from countless school events, called out, "Kids, we have about 10 more minutes, and we have to go home and get ready for dinner." Julie's face lit up with excitement, her gaze darting to Jake for permission. But Jake stood frozen, his expression one of sheer horror.
Sensing his discomfort and Julie's eagerness, I chimed in. "Ten minutes of play won't throw us off schedule. We will still be home on time."
Julie didn't wait for a second invitation; she was already mingling with the kids, her laughter mingling with theirs. Jake, still rooted to the spot, received a comforting squeeze on his shoulder from me. "It's just play," I assured him, hoping to ease his fears.
As Julie dashed off, her laughter trailing behind her, I gently steered Jake towards the benches. We sat down, our eyes following Julie's spirited pursuit in the game of tag. The arachnoid children, nimble as shadows, scuttled up the jungle gym out of her reach. With a playful tenacity, Julie shifted her focus to a satyr, barely tagging his hoof before he could leap away. An angelic child, with a softness in her flight that hid the strength within, whisked Julie up to safety on a floating platform.
Elbowing Jake, I caught his unease. "What's up with you?" I asked.
He shivered slightly, his voice a whisper. "Spiders... they terrify me."
I followed his gaze back to the playground. The arachnoid children did resemble spiders from the waist down. But they weren't spiders; they were kids—my neighbors and friends.
"They might remind you of spiders, Jake, but they're not the same," I reassured him, though I understood his fear.
We watched as Julie integrated herself seamlessly among the various species. "She's got a knack for making friends," I mused, a bit of envy laced with admiration in my tone. "I'm always the awkward one."
Jake offered a half-smile in solidarity. "You're not alone there."
Resting one elbow on the armrest, I took in the diverse playground scene, reflecting on my own childhood. It hadn't always been easy to grow up in such a melting pot of cultures. The scars of the great war lingered, hidden beneath the surface of everyday life.
"Growing up here taught me a lot," I shared with Jake, "It wasn't just about coexisting."
Jake nodded, absorbing the gravity of my words. "I guess it takes time to see past old fears."
With a wistful grin, I added, "And sometimes, it takes seeing the world through someone else's eyes to appreciate what you've always had."
As Julie's joyous peals of laughter echoed across the playground, it countered our past day and even the past week. She switched so easily. I envied her.
Without a warning or hesitation, John's reflexes snapped into action, and he launched forward with phenomenal speed. Instinctively, I was on his heels, my mind racing to catch up with my feet. I looked ahead and stumbled in my steps. It was Julie, perilously hanging from the edge of a floating platform.
Mid-stride, I summoned my wand in my hand, a flick of his wrist accelerating my already blistering pace. Jake and I cut a path through the unsuspecting children. Jake focuses laser-sharp on Julie. I saw her fingers slip; time seemed to slow, and the angel child reached out in vain to catch her.
Jake, with a look of determination I'd never seen before, pushed past a startled child to position himself directly under Julie's fall. His arms outstretched, he caught her with a grunt, the impact absorbed by his unexpected bravery.
Simultaneously, I cast a wind spell, cushioning the descent of the angel kid who, realizing her mistake, used the air currents to navigate toward the ground. Her mother's voice cut through the chaos, chiding her with a mix of frustration and fear. "I told you a thousand times not to take kids up to the platforms who don't at least know the flight spells or have wings!"
The mother rushed over to Jake, her eyes wide with an apology. "I'm so sorry your kid got hurt."
Julie, with a defiant tilt to her chin and scratched hands hidden behind her, declared, "I'm not hurt." Jake sighed, his relief palpable.
I turned to the mother, my voice steady. "It's okay. Is your child injured?"
With a huff, the angel mother stood firm. "I'm not healing her even if she is. She needs to learn her lesson."
I looked around and took in the scene: the children's laughter resuming, the parents' concerned murmurs, and the angel child's subdued posture, standing by her mother. Julie stood leaning against Jake. I glanced at my watch.
Jake and I shared a quick snicker when an Ork kid's playful smack landed squarely on our backs. We exchanged a look of mock indignation and confusion, then shrugged off the friendly assault as the park began to empty, parents heralding the end of the day with calls to their children.
"We should get going, too," I said to Jake, glancing at my watch again.
Julie pulled her hands from behind her back, revealing the marks of fresh scrapes oozing tiny rivulets of blood. The angel's sharp intake of breath made Julie jump. "Oh my dear, let me fix that for you," she offered, extracting a simple family wand from her waistband—the kind used for everyday magic, not unlike the one my mother kept for household tasks.
"You're human, right?" she inquired gently, to which Julie gave a cautious nod. With a flourish, the angel cast a healing spell, glowing and extending from the wand to Julie's palms. Before our eyes, the scrapes on Julie's palms knit together seamlessly.
Julie flexed her hands, her astonishment giving way to a smile. "Thank you, Ma'am."
The angel's mock scowl was as quick to fade as it was to form. "I'm not old enough to be a Ma'am," she chided, though the twinkle in her eye spoke of no true offense taken.
"Sorry, and thank you…" Julie started, trailing off, unsure how to address the angel who had just eased her pain.
"No problem, dear," the angel responded, her smile genuine and warm.
I glanced at my watch again. "We need to head home," I said without particular force in my tone. Jake and Julie nodded. Jake's face soured as Julie's face was lit with excitement about the evening stroll. The once lively playground was now quiet, save for a few kids milling about, including the cheeky one who had patted mine and Jake's back.
The angel kid, whose tumble had nearly ended badly, approached with hesitant steps. "Um. Thank you for catching me with that gust of wind magic," she said, her voice tinged with respect.
I couldn't suppress the warm smile that spread across my face. "You're most welcome," I told her, the satisfaction of the moment softening the stern expression of her mother, who, with a swift tug on her wing, prompted a yelp of indignation from the child. "Hey! That's rude!" she protested as they retreated from the playground.
Julie's voice floated behind them, bright and sincere. "Nice meeting you! Hope I'll see you again!" Her buoyant spirit was unyielding.
Turning to the path ahead, I pointed towards the woods. "That trail through the dryad woods will be the fastest way home." Jake and Julie followed my lead, their heads turning this way and that, taking in the sights.
As we embarked on the path through the dryad forest, the shift from day to night was abrupt, painting the sky in a cloak of stars, the sun on the sky changing in a blink to a moon. Jake and Julie stood frozen, their exclamations of surprise hanging in the air like the leaves of the ancient trees around us.
I grimaced sympathetically, understanding their shock. "Does that make more sense why I liked your sunsets and sunrises so much?" I asked, a playful tone hiding my own recollections of the first time I'd witnessed the sudden nightfall.
They nodded in unison, jaws slacked, staring at me.