Firebrand Risk
P.Track.33
June 09, 2026

Nellie wasn’t sure what she expected when she reunited with Rhys. When she was small, before she knew about her parentage and the Realm, she would sporadically imagine her father turning up with a big smile and some kind of treat as a souvenir for her and Nathalie from whatever adventure she invented as his excuse for being absent. He'd apologize and the three of them would laugh and act like the years of desertion was a funny, fantastical story. In other imaginings, she would scream at him while he blubbered about how sorry he was while Nathalie wept how proud she was that Nellie had grown well enough to not let anyone off the hook for wrongdoing.

Admittedly, Nellie had not had such fantasies since learning Rhys was her father. She was far too distracted with the upheaval of everything she thought she knew. Even still, the silence had not been what she predicted.

Rhys had fed them some sort of meat that had long been dried with lumps of sopping rice he had stolen from nearby fields. He said nothing the whole time he prepared the meal, nor while they ate it. He didn't so much as look at either of the kids, and only quietly acknowledged the little fox when she'd prod at his knee for bits of his food.

“This is growing quite awkward, Uncle,” Morgan said.

Rhys flinched as if struck before sliding into a rueful smile. He slipped the fox another bite of meat, giving her head a small pat.

“I take it that you being here is no coincidence,” Rhys said. His voice was slightly hoarse from lack of use.

“We were searching for you,” Morgan said. “My father said you were in China, and so we convinced Beast and Brigitte to smuggle us in.”

Convinced was not the word Nellie would have chosen given Beast and Brigitte apparently were just humoring them until Evora arrived. The only consolation of this revelation was that it was very likely they tipped Silas off, and he explained things to Nathalie. She would still be beside herself with worry, but the knowing would help some.

Nellie cleared her throat. “What’s her name?” She pointed to the fox when Rhys’s brows knitted with confusion.

“Oh.” Rhys looked glad to talk of something other than the situation they found themselves in. (Morgan turned sulky.) “She hasn’t got one. Not that she’s told me at any rate.”

“Well, I think she deserves a name,” Nellie said.

“And I think it a stupid idea to create a bond with a huli jing,” Morgan grumbled. He suppressed a small smile. “But, I am still alive, so there’s that.” He dangled the last bit of his meat at the fox. “I’ll name you. You’ll have to be patient with me.”

Morgan lured the fox outside, leaving Nellie alone with Rhys. She had finished her food and couldn’t use it as a distraction. She scratched at the dirt with the toe of her shoe. There was so much she wanted to say, but nothing took hold strong enough in her mind.

“How’s your Aunt Nathalie,” Rhys asked conversationally.

Nellie’s hands balled up. The whirling thoughts and emotions narrowed to anger.

“I thought she was my mother until seven months ago,” Nellie growled. Her eyes prickled with hot, furious tears. “Do you know how messed up all that is?”

She wanted to yell about being uprooted from Florida, and then from her entire sense of self, but she could not find the words. Nathalie, Uncle Winston, and her grandparents shared a degree of blame, but Nathalie at the least had apologized for the unintentional deception. 

It all started with Rhys. It started with him abandoning her.

“That must have been confusing,” Rhys said quietly. “My intent was just your safety, Perenelle. I hadn’t expected to be gone so long.”

“And here I am with Morgan,” Nellie said scathingly. “So much for keeping me away from the Regere.” She glared at him. “Do you even know how old I am now? I’m twelve. Twelve! Did you even think about me at all in the last–?”

“Of course I have,” Rhys said sharply. “Everyday.”

His tone cut off Nellie’s building anger. There was an edge of offense in it that she hadn’t expected. She was preparing for him to be more regretful, maybe even get teary-eyed over all the missed years. She was unsure how to proceed. Making him angry wasn't her intention and it probably wasn't smart seeing that she and Morgan were in the wilderness with him. She doubted he would hurt them, but Nathalie’s podcasts were full of people lamenting such thoughts as they described horrific attacks or dead friends.

“Forgive me,” Rhys said with a heavy sigh. He pinched at his eyes. “The lack of nicotine is bringing out my worst.” He got to his feet. “Shall we?”

The three humans and small fox headed into the forest away from the hut. Nellie fell back to walk with Morgan, partly because following in Rhys’s trail was easier than trying to keep pace.

“How was it,” Morgan asked under his breath.

Nellie shrugged glumly. “Any luck with the name?”

“Something Chinese, of course, but my knowledge is extremely limited,” Morgan said. “What lead does he have on your mother?”

“I didn’t ask,” Nellie said.

“What? The entire reason for this trek into the wilderness—.”

“I know! But, there was sort of a lot going on, Morgan,” Nellie said coolly. “There still is.” She gestured at Rhys’s retreating back. “How am I supposed to talk to him about anything? I don’t remember him!”

Morgan charged ahead. “Uncle!”

“You really don’t need to call me that,” Rhys said, pausing for them to catch up.

“Nellie had something to ask you,” Morgan said.

Nellie glared at him as she drew in a breath to address Rhys’s mildly polite stare. “We were researching which dragon Brunhilde could be, and wanted to ask you which ones you’ve ruled out.”

Rhys’s expression stayed almost identical except his jaw stiffened. He turned away from them after an uncomfortable few seconds and started back through the trees.

“This path takes us back to the river,” Rhys said. “We’re bypassing the areas without banks this way. Keep close. The feihu don’t usually hunt here, but we cannot let our guards down.”

“Uncle,” Morgan fumed, stomping after him. “We’ve gone through too much trouble–.”

“Trouble?” Rhys stopped, rounding on them. “Is that what you call nearly getting yourselves killed? Trouble! You’re children. You leave matters such as these to adults.”

The anger that had been disrupted earlier flared back up at Rhys’s admonishment. He had no right to scold them. He didn’t know them; it was hard to believe he even cared about them outside of the grace of the average adult making sure a random child didn’t come to harm. It was her life that had fallen into disarray when he left. Nathalie lying, the rest of the family covering it up, not knowing about the Realm and her connection to it, Morgan: all of it came back to Rhys choosing to ditch her with the instructions to keep her from Brue’s family.

“No!” Nellie stopped, fists clenched, and glared at Rhys. “Me and Morgan put too much work into this. And, she’s my mother. I’m involved now, and you don’t have any right to tell me not to be!”

She would have stormed off for dramatic effect, but she had no idea where she was. She settled for standing stiffly, eyes narrowed at this stranger.

Morgan’s eyes darted between them before he cleared his throat. “Shall we? I don’t want to be stuck out here once it grows dark.”

“No,” Rhys said, tearing his eyes from Nellie, “you don’t.”

They continued on. Nellie made it a point to cross her arms and glare whenever Rhys turned to check on them, but that act was growing more difficult the sweatier and sticker she grew. Morgan started checking his phone reception once they felt the ground beneath turn into a downward slope.

“How did you get your phone anyway,” Nellie asked as her cousin once more tucked it away with a groan. “Mrs. Adams keeps them in her office.”

Morgan looked affronted. “You think this is my real phone?” He scoffed, holding up the black rectangle that looked remarkably like his phone. “This is just a Huawei I bought at the airport when we arrived. Just in case we needed a contact phone.”

“Quite the survivalist," Nellie said, rolling her eyes. She jerked her head at Rhys’s back. “What’d you think? He never answered you. He might be as much of a dead end as before we found him.”

“Perhaps… If we can delay him disappearing until my mother comes, then we can eavesdrop while they talk,” Morgan suggested. “He’s bound to tell her something useful. She is practically my father’s mouthpiece and ears when he’s not around, and it is his sister that was dragoned.”

It was the only plan they had.

After walking in a definite downward incline for several hot, sticky moments, they heard the river and the tourists rafting upon it. The trees thinned, and the river gleamed silvery at them. Rhys didn’t tell them which way to turn or warn them against the uneven shore. He turned and walked, and clearly expected them to keep up.

Morgan stole a glance towards a raft drifting nearby, half ducking behind Nellie. “I’ve a thought… Isn’t it suspicious for three obvious foreigners to be wandering the river with no guide?”

“Can you turn into a human for a bit,” Nellie asked the fox gleefully hopping rocking beside them.

Nellie only managed to spread her arms and partially shield the huli jing from the river–the rafters too busy to notice anything anyway–as she morphed into her girl form.

“Right… I don't think anyone will believe that the CCP employed a twelve-year-old in dirty shorts,” Morgan said dryly.

She hadn’t noticed until then that the huli jing was dressed in dirt stained shorts and wore no shoes. She had been too distracted by her growing freckles and turning into a fox. Nellie suspected the baggy t-shirt she wore with bold, black Chinese characters also was not up to the standards of a government official.

“Can you age up and change clothes?”

“She can’t,” Rhys called over his shoulder. “She’s not old enough. Watch your steps on the rocks. They’re quite slick.”

“Ah,” Morgan said knowinging, a superior expression on his face. “She must be under fifty. Lore says huli jing can’t turn into a woman until around fifty. Well, no matter. We’ll think of some excuse if stopped.” He held his phone over his head. “Oh, excellent! The slashed circle has disappeared. I should get a bar shortly.”

The girl was bouncing from rock to rock, happily humming. She would circle around Rhys and then return to Nellie and Morgan, hover around Morgan’s shoulder to stare at his phone, and bound off again.

The river widened and human noises picked up. The bridges came into view, the shores widened and shallows expanded. They trudged up a well worn path from the river to the residential district outside the palace.

“Am I correct in assuming that you have been placed with Mrs. Wu,” Rhys asked.

The girl skipped ahead, spun with her arms out—garning disapproving looks from passersby—as hurried off in the direction of Mrs. Wu’s apartment.

“Perhaps something starting with X,” Morgan mused, staring at his phone which now was slowly loading an internet page. “Hmm, sounds like ‘sh’... interesting.”

Morgan absorbed himself in his phone. Nellie did not want to get any closer to Rhys, still dragging a few feet behind him. She gave the girl skipping at her side a strained smile, getting a head tilt and perplexed expression back.

“Not happy? Rhys. Father. Not happy?”

“I don’t know how to explain it,” Nellie admitted. “And it’s not just because of the language barrier. …Species barrier?”

They fell behind further. Nellie did not want to be scolded for running off, did not want to sit there while Rhys stepped in to play father, did not want to wait for Morgan’s mother to appear for what was sure to be more scolding mingled in with trying to step into a family role. She wished someone had the brilliant idea to bring Nathalie, but she didn’t get her hopes up.

Her attentions turned outward as the sounds of mean giggling fell upon her ears. A group of girls around her own age were sniggering, pointing to the huli jing’s dirty feet and t-shirt. Pre-teen girl teasing, as it turned out, was an international language.

“You can’t make sandals,” Nellie asked. She pointed to her sneakered feet. “Shoes? It probably isn’t very comfortable without them when you have human feet. Our feet are kind of useless like that.” The girl cocked her head. “How’d you get the clothes you have on? They’re just… on you whenever you transform. How come you don’t go from naked fox to naked girl?”

The fox-girl’s face lit up. She pointed dramatically into the crowd. “Naked! Naked! She’s naked!”

Nellie frantically shushed her, grabbing her wrist and wrenching it down. Most of the crowd was Chinese from what Nellie saw, and they stared at the pair of them as if they were rabid dogs. A few foreigners speckled throughout were turning on the spot, trying to catch sight of this naked girl.

“Clothes,” the girl said simply, tugging her t-shirt collar. “No more yelling.”

“Yeah… okay,” Nellie said, her heart rate still recovering from the outburst. “Let’s figure out how to get you shoes too. You’ll get even less stares.”

She caught sight of Rhys’s blond hair momentarily up ahead in the crowd, crossing the street before approaching the nearest vendor. She browsed the cheap, rubber sandals, smiling politely as the stall keeper aggressively waved random pairs around her face calling them deals and bargains in very broken English.

“Cute,” the girl said, picking up a pair with flowers stamped across the band. She broke the tie keeping them together, dropped them, and put her feet in. She skipped off.

“Wait!” Nellie scrounged in her wallet as the vendor chittered angrily at her. “Sorry. How much?” She was confident the figure was double what the sticker on the bottom of the sandals said.

“Hold it,” Morgan said, appearing by her side, and stopping her from handing over any money. “Xinyi! Come here. …Please.”

The girl—now a good ten feet away—stopped, tilted her head at Morgan, and then raced over with a wide grin on her face. She yanked on his arm, bouncing in place.

“Xinyi? Me? Pretty!”

“Yes, yes, I thought so too,” Morgan said dismissively, failing to suppress the proud smirk on his face. “Shoes.”

He paid for the sandals after showing the vendor the price written on the bottom. The three of them mixed back into the crowd as much as they were able with Nellie and Morgan being foreign and Xinyi happily tripping about like an excited puppy with something stuck to its foot.

“Xinyi,” Nellie murmured to Morgan.

“My best guess is it has something to do with being joyful,” he said, shrugging. “Characters play such a massive role in the meaning, and I don’t know any of those.”

“Naming her and buying stuff for her… Careful, little cousin, that could mean trouble,” Nellie teased.

“I was saving you from being overcharged!”

She wanted to continue her teasing, but the crowd froze and split with an angry, “You two!”

Brigitte was a ball of fury. Her short, purple ombre hair looked as though she’d been yanking it in all directions for the last few hours. She stormed over with her small, dark fists clenched into sharp balls. Nellie thought she was going to pummel them.

The crowd was giving her a clear path towards them, and it got worse when Beast appeared. They were practically running to get out of his way as he took long, brisk, intimidating strides towards them.

“Just hold firm,” Morgan said, straightening himself. “Once they see that we’ve found….”

They both noticed at the same time that Rhys was not anywhere near them nor in view.

Lina rushed between Beast and Brigitte and the kids, holding up her hands in surrender and hissing about causing a scene. She gestured frantically back towards the apartments, keeping up a babble of appeasement and apologetic nods that she directed to anyone nearby. She glared coldly at Nellie and Morgan.

“Come,” she commanded.

Morgan looked as if he wanted to challenge her a moment before deflating and dragging his feet after the adults. Nellie spun on the spot, seeing no sign of Rhys or even of Xinyi, before trotting along. They went single filed into Mrs. Wu's apartment with Nellie and Morgan wordlessly instructed to sit before the three angry adults. Mrs. Wu shuffled around them offering tea; Lina declining and politely ushering her off to the kitchen.

“We found him,” Morgan said quickly.

Beast and Brigitte did not look happy, or stunned, or whatever Nellie imagined would have been reasonable. They looked angrier. Beast swelled to fill the room, ready to unleash on them.

Nellie’s hackles rose. “You don’t dismiss him,” she snapped, jumping up. “You were never going to help us!”

“Watch your tone, girl,” Beast growled, his deep voice reverberating through the room.

“Or what? You’ll call Morgan’s mom to come get us?” She narrowed her blue eyes at him, relishing the satisfaction at the look Beast and Brigitte exchanged. “I heard you last night.”

“That is no excuse to run off during the night,” Lina cut in. “The mountains are dangerous.”

Morgan turned in a vain attempt to cover the bloodstains on his shirt. Nellie’s hand went to her arm as guilt swirled in the pit of her stomach. She tightened her jaw and met Lina's dark eyes.

“Why wouldn’t we run off if this whole trip was lie after lie,” Nellie asked.

“We are not just kids,” Morgan said. “And I don’t say that because of who my father is, before you roll your eyes and think me a spoilt brat. Nellie and I faced a dragon. How many adults in the Auctorita can say the same?”

“A dragon,” Brigitte said, scrunching her face.

Nellie watched each adult in turn with mounting apprehension. Beast was scowling heavily as something seemed to click into place. Brigitte was bemused and shifted uncomfortably while Lina looked the most perplexed—likely never seeing a dragon and only vaguely aware any still existed.

Before anyone had a chance to break the static building in the room, the front door opened, and Xinyi walked in. She froze with all eyes on her (Lina turning stark white) and gave a little yelp. She shrank into her fox form with a faint pop, scrambled over the sandals left in her place, and dashed back out.

Mrs. Wu came shuffling from the kitchen at a surprisingly brisk pace, lamenting after the little fox and waving a biscuit of some sort.

“Xinyi,” Morgan called, hurrying out into the hall, but stopping abruptly with his back foot still visible.

Rhys filled the doorway as Morgan backed up into the apartment. Xinyi in her fox form peeked around at his ankles, sniffing the air while he held out a small, tastefully wrapped box towards Mrs. Wu.

“I remember you liking these the last time I darkened your doorway,” he said politely.

Mrs. Wu gave a bow—Rhys mimicking her—as she took the package. She peered at Xinyi and spoke softly but with reverence to the fox, beckoning her in and holding out the biscuit to further entice her.

“C-Commander,” Brigitte stammered.

Beast and Brigitte looked as if they were facing a ghost. Rhys, for his part, barely acknowledged them outside of a curt nod. He looked instead to Lina.

“Remind me of your name?”

“Wang, sir. …About the huli jing…?”

“She’s been helpful,” Rhys said. “It wouldn't hurt to have her around as an asset. Now then, may I trouble you and Mrs. Wu for some water?”

Rhys’s expression turned steely the moment Lina and Mrs. Wu exited to the kitchen. His eyes snapped to Brigitte and Beast; Brigitte shrank while Beast did his best to draw himself up to his full height—impeded by the low ceilings.

“Why are these children here,” Rhys demanded.

“You daughter–,” Beast started.

“No,” Rhys said sharply. He shook his shaggy head. “No, no, you will not attempt that. You may’ve convinced the children that you were sympathetic to their cause, but I know much better, don’t I?”

It was a slap in the face to hear Rhys demand an answer to his question. Nellie hadn’t had time to ponder why she and Morgan were in China when it was clear that Beast and Brigitte were just keeping them busy. It would have been much easier to laugh them off back at Silas’s compound than to smuggle them into a country with such strict security measures.

Rhys’s eyes narrowed as the seconds ticked on. “What are they doing here?”

“The Regere…,” Brigitte trailed off, her voice small.

“Of course,” Rhys growled. “Am I right assuming Evora was called to gather her child? When is she arriving?”

“Shortly,” Beast said. He stared down at Nellie and Morgan. “She’s ending her Singapore trip early for this. Your childishness could've cost the Auctor–.”

“You will not shift blame on them,” Rhys interrupted coldly. “You are the adult, Beast. You were in command.”

“These are kids, not soldiers,” Beast growled. “Kids don't follow orders.” He sneered. “But, I guess you have no practice.”

Rhys looked less than bothered by the accusation, which irked Nellie. He should’ve been bothered, ashamed, embarrassed, sad, anything except accepting and indifferent.

Her thoughts were halted by Xinyi–still in her girl form–cuddling into her shoulder, trying to get her head pat. She patted her glossy, black hair awkwardly as Morgan side-eyed her with bemusement.

“Xinyi, is it,” Rhys said, redirecting his attention away from Beast. “You've been enormously helpful. Would you like to learn how to be human? Mrs. Wu surely would be very glad to adopt you as a granddaughter.”

“I insist against it, sir,” Lina said, reappearing with a tray of tea. “She’s a huli-jing.”

“That doesn't mean she's bad,” Nellie said. “She saved our lives out there. She didn't have to do that.”

Lina pursed her lips. She focused on handing out the tea.

“Wang, I would appreciate a conversation with you and Mrs. Wu once this mess with the children is handled. If you would indulge me.”

Lina gave a noncommitted grunt as she retreated back into the kitchen. Rhys gave Xinyi a small smile that had the girl beam back. Nellie leaned away from Xinyi as a stab of jealousy shot through her core.

A frantic pounding sounded on the door. It was thrown open before Brigitte even touched the handle, and she only just jumped aside to avoid the metal door smacking into her.

The middle-aged woman bearing a frantic expression on her pointed, tanned face could only have been Evora. Her black hair was starting to unravel from its tight bun; her brown eyes scanned the small room and she immediately thrust herself upon Morgan once they found him.

“Oh! Oh, my baby!” She rapidly placed kisses on every inch of his face while he tried scrambling from her embrace. Her accent thickened on the next “baby boy” and she was no longer speaking English after that.

Amias slid into the apartment with a small roller bag in his fist and a duffle on his shoulder. He looked haggard.

“Amias,” Nellie called, hurrying over to hug him. She shot Rhys a look from her peripherals as she gave her godfather an extra squeeze. “It’s good to see–.”

“Are you insane,” Amias said, grabbing her shoulder to hold her at arm’s length. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed out there, Perenelle! I’ll be telling poor, dear Nathalie all about it. You have me at my word on that!”

“Trying to play the parent; pathetic,” Beast sneered.

“Acting as a proper godfather,” Amias said coldly. “Or just a responsible adult in general. Perhaps, you should consider giving it a try, D’Von, before carting my goddaughter off to China!”

Beast scoffed. “You were more fun when you drank.”

Red blazed across Amias’s face. Nellie pulled away as his grip on her shoulder grew painful.

“Enough of the bickering,” Rhys said, clearly and sharply. He continued on as if oblivious to Evora’s and Amias’s bug-eyed stares and gaping mouths. “Evora, I trust you booked a room? We can speak this evening.” He pushed his way towards the door. “Now, I’ll be outside for the time being.”

The other adults exchanged glances that Nellie didn't care to decipher. She hurried from the apartment before Amias could grab hold again. Xinyi followed closely with wild eyes.

“I'm supposed to chase after him, right,” Nellie asked her.

“Chase,” Xinyi repeated with enthusiasm.

She gave chase at a slow walk, dragging her feet down the flights of stairs. Xinyi mimicked her until her boredom took over. She entertained herself by jumping up and down the steps.

“Shouldn’t he be coming after me,” Nellie asked. “Shouldn’t he be curious about me? Even if just a little bit? I mean… he hasn't seen me in ten years. And, it's not like he was getting any updates either. It's really hard not to think he doesn't care…” Xinyi tilted her head at her. “Human problems, I guess.”

Nellie peeked out into the street; Xinyi doing the same a head below her. Rhys was standing a few short feet from the apartment building entrance, smoking a cigarette and purposely ignoring a short, Chinese man in a business suit similar to Lina’s who was side-eyeing him.

“Rhys. Father.”

“Yeah, but where do I go from there,” Nellie said. “I don’t want this to mean I’m leaving Nathalie. Maybe he feels as stuck too? Like, maybe he’s trying to figure out if he’s supposed to step in now that I found him?”

She teetered a moment before going over to join Rhys. She wrinkled her nose at the cigarette and turned her head away to wave the smoke away.

“It is an unpleasant smell,” Rhys said. He dropped the cigarette and stamped it out. The bureaucrat next to him cleared his throat loudly. “Right. My apologies.” He picked up the squashed butt and tucked it in his pocket. “Evora’s escort; courtesy of the Auctorita’s spy network. Man of few words. Pay him no attention. Something on your mind?”

“Something on my… Are you serious?”

Rhys gave a wry smile. “Which of the many do you wish to start with?”

It was a simple question with a complicated answer. Nellie wanted to know what Rhys was doing in China, which dragons he already investigated and ruled out. She wanted to know if he would be coming back with them; why did he blame the Regere, and would this meeting mean she would have to say goodbye to Nathalie. That was the one she felt most heavily.

She mustered the courage to tell Rhys flat-out that she didn't want to leave Nathalie, but he suddenly went rigid. She switched gears to ask what was wrong, but knew before she had the chance.

An immense pressure bore down on her. The small hairs on her arms and the back of her neck prickled.

The Regere was approaching the apartment building, dressed in a business suit with his dark hair smoothed back.

“Perenelle,” he called upon seeing her. He froze. “Rhys…?”

“Brecken.”

----------------------

Oh man, longest one yet! Wish I could think of some comments, but my exhaustion is peak today. (I'm got to schedule this so that I can hopefully remember to come back and add one, lol.) There was something about Xinyi's clothes. I think it had to do with huli-jing using illusion magic. Like, she wore the dirty shorts (stolen from a laundry basket) and the t-shirt (stolen from a souvienger stand) long enough that she became familiar enough to incorporate them into her image of 'human'. That might've been all...?

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Ms. Beauchamp smiled warmly at her from across the cheap, pressed wood desk. The multiple rings glittered on her chubby fingers while her beaded bangles clattered as she moved her hands to fold contently on her desk.

Penny stared at the lime green cellphone. She turned it over and over in her hands, feeling the number buttons and sliding it open to feel the keyboard.

“It’s really late to be a Christmas present,” Ms. Beauchamp said. “But, look, the keyboard makes texting your friends easier. Isn’t that a neat feature?” She settled more authoritatively in her chair. “Now, with that out of the way, why don’t you tell me about your Christmas vacation?” She glanced at her notebook. “And about this… gnome?”

“This is really mine,” Penny asked, holding up the phone. She inspected it more closely on Ms. Beauchamp’s nod. “They wouldn’t let me go to church.”

“I’ve spoken to them about that. As faithful as they are, I think they didn’t quite understand that a little girl would have such strong faith without an adult leading her on. They can’t promise every Sunday, mind you, not with their own church activities, but they’ll try.”

Penny did not believe that for a second, but gave a little nod. She began exploring the phone, finding it had Ms. Beauchamp listed as a contact along with the Lamberts’ landline. She could feel her case worker staring at her, waiting for more conversation. The gnome had been mentioned and brushed off during their brief meeting shortly before Christmas.

“You do have quite the fantastical imagination,” Ms. Beauchamp said after the pause grew too long. She consulted her notes. “There are records of it popping up at every placing.”

“Is it bad,” Penny asked. “I get bored. I’m trying to entertain myself.”

Ms. Beauchamp smiled again, shaking her head. She reached over and gripped Penny’s hands.

“Imagination is perfectly fine and normal,” she said. “Perhaps… tone it down around your fosters? Adults sometimes just get worried for no good reason.” She shuffled her papers and straightened. “Anything else for this meeting?”

“Since I have a phone of my own now… can I have the number for St. Brigid’s,” Penny asked hesitantly.

The case worker’s bubbly smile instantly faded. She fumbled her notes and cleared her throat.

“Your ride should be here,” she said dismissively.

She was sure to tuck the phone into her pocket before meeting Mr. Lambert out in the hall. They rode back in silence with a few disgruntled looks from him. She eagerly rushed from the car the moment it was parked, running up the stairs to her room.

“Don’t you slam that door,” Mrs. Lambert screamed up the stairs. In a calmer voice to Mr. Lambert, “Did the case worker say anything?”

“I didn’t see her,” he admitted. “I expect we’ll get a call tonight for a debriefing.”

“She better not write off her delusions as imagination. We’re entitled to a bigger stipend if she’s special needs.”

Penny shut the door and flopped onto her bed. She studied her new phone, flipping the keyboard open and shut. She would need to get Brooke’s number. It would be fun texting between classes or when they were trapped with their foster families.

A small camera icon drew her attention. She tapped it and the little screen showed her room. She grinned broadly, clamoured to the window, and pointed the phone at the neighbor’s garden.

Brooke was sitting in a snowbank near what usually was hydrangeas. She shoved her phone back in her pocket and hurried down the stairs, slowing at the annoyed hisses of the Lamberts coming from the living room.

“--add another kid,” Mr. Lambert said. “Or, trade her in, get one that’s really special needs. Maybe a deaf one. That’d be a nice change.”

“The Wilcox had a deaf one for a minute,” Mrs. Lambert mused. “It was a good chuck more, but the thing screamed too much. I don’t know if my nerves can handle that.”

“Just hope she’s reclassified then,” Mr. Lambert said.

“Better that then three of them,” Mrs. Lambert said. “They’re far too broken. I worry enough with that Aaliyah and our Emily getting along as well as they do.”

“Concerning,” Mr. Lambert agreed. “Too bad too. She’s such a cash cow. That drug-addled mother of hers will never get custody.”

The phone rang in the kitchen, breaking the conversation and the spell it had on Penny. She slipped on her rubber boots, and headed outside. She ran to the hedge that separated her yard from Brooke’s.

“Hey, Brooke!” She waved her phone. “Give me your number!”

The excitement over the new phone faded much sooner than Penny was expecting. Brooke put in her number, flipped between keyboard and no keyboard a few times, and then went back to scratching in the snowbank. Her bare fingers were raw and red from the cold.

“You okay,” Penny asked, plopping next to her. “You've been quiet since we got off break.”

“Holidays are hard,” Brooke mumbled.

It was much harder going through Christmas without the familiarity of St. Brigid's. She missed Aisling from sun up to sun down, and having the Lamberts prancing around in fake cheer for the neighbors while being snide to her and Aaliyah inside the house made the pain deeper.

A stifled sob startled her from her sorrowful thoughts. Brooke was wiping her eyes. Penny felt her own sting.

“Did you know, the world is supposed to end this year,” Brooke said.

“What?”

“Mayan calendar,” Brooke said. “It says the world is ending this year. …I don't think I'd care if it did.”

Penny couldn't fathom the world ending. It seemed dumb the world would end just when she hit double digits.

She took pictures of the frozen grasses and their footprints in the snow until she was too cold to sit any longer. She bid Brooke goodbye, and crept back into the house. Her body tensed the moment she walked through the door. The irritated sounds of her foster parents were coming from the living room and kitchen as they yelled conversation at each other.

It sounded as if they had the debriefing call with Ms. Beauchamp, and it sounded like she was not going to classify her as delusional. She hurried up to her room, stopping when she found Aaliyah leaning in her doorway.

“They know you got a phone,” she said. “Just one piece of advice; they aren’t allowed to take it from you.” Her dark eyes studied Penny. “Does it have a camera?”

“Yeah,” Penny said, taking a tiny step towards Aaliyah. “I was just at Brooke’s taking pictures of the garden. It looks cool all—.”

“You are such a baby,” Aaliyah said with an exaggerated eyeroll. “Too bad you ain’t for adoption. You’d’ve been snatched up with the other babies already.”

She winced as Aaliyah shut her door with a firm snap. She looked at her phone, puzzled why taking pictures of a frozen garden was seen as childish, and headed into her room.

---

The halls were covered in pink, red, and white crepe paper chains and hearts. Penny held her phone to a cluster of ugly cupids, clicking a picture, and hurrying to catch up with Brooke.

Brooke had her bangs clipped out of her face with a small, plastic heart barrette. She was reading her English assignment with giddiness.

“Everyone is acting weird,” Penny said, her head swiveling to watch two girls a grade ahead giggle uncontrollably as a boy took books from the locker next to them without so much as a glance.

“Spring is coming,” Brooke said wisely. “Valentine's Day gets everyone excited. Oh, Penny, listen to this final note, ‘shows great promise and improves with every class’.”

“Hard to improve on an A average,” Penny said.

They stopped as a young man Penny quickly recognized as Mr. McBride rounded the corner. He pulled back to stop from colliding with them.

“Oh, Brooke, I almost knocked you and your friend right over,” he said, beaming at her. He held out his hand to Penny. “Hi. You’re not one of mine. Mr. McBride. Or,” he looked at Brooke, “Tony.”

Brooke bubbled up, holding her English assignment to her chest.

Penny curtly shook Mr. McBride’s hand. “Penny. Nice to meet you, Mr. McBride,” she said formally. She pulled her hand away and looked at Brooke. “Ready to head home?”

“I was hoping Brooke would help me set up for tomorrow,” Mr. McBride said.

“What’s there to set up,” Penny asked. “Don’t you teach English?” She recoiled at Brooke’s glare. “Want extra help?”

“It’s just putting papers on desks,” Mr. McBride said flippantly. “You go on home.”

Reluctantly, she headed out of the school alone. She sent Brooke a message saying they should hang out before dinner as she walked, more to have something to do than to wallow over the unease in her stomach. Mr. McBride seemed nice. Brooke liked him; she was happy around him. Penny couldn’t put her finger on why it bothered her seeing them together.

“Maybe I’m jealous,” she muttered to herself. 

Brooke was her friend. She should be happy that she had an adult in her corner after having no one for so long. Her foster family–the Wilcox–were just as bad as the Lamberts, but with no other children in the home to divert their attention.

“Oh! That’s right!”

Penny turned back and ran for the school. She found herself in the nearly defunct computer lab moments later, typing away in the search bar for St. Brigid’s Home. She was directed to a sterile looking page with smiling kids she had never seen before, case workers in business casual that she never saw, and a director she didn’t know. There were no signs of Sister Mary Agnes, Mother Mary Clare, or any of the other nuns.

She put the number into her phone as she heard people outside in the hall, shut down the computer–unsure if she was allowed on unsupervised–and left.

Brooke was outside standing by Mr. McBride’s car. She was shyly waving goodbye, her face flushed and elated as a small box of chalky candy hearts was pressed to her chest. His eyes caught Penny’s as he pulled away and she found her insides squirming. She held back rather than catch up with Brooke, and watched her skip away.

A small, blue-white ball of light bobbed in her peripherals. She headed for the woods, stalking after the haunt with her phone at the ready. She switched her gaze from the ball of light to her phone screen as she tripped over logs and fought through branches, irritation seeping in at her inability to get it perfectly on her screen.

There was a squelch and a lurch down as Penny reached a clearing. She found her feet stuck in muck, and wiggling sunk her to her knees.

“Perfect,” she grumbled. She found the will o’ the wisp hovering in small circles just out of reach. She raised her phone, snapped a picture, and gave a snort. “It’s funny to you, isn’t it?”

She fell backwards, pulled herself back, and got her feet out with a wet suction sound. She flipped onto her stomach and dug her hand into each of the holes as they rapidly shrunk, managing to pull her shoes free.

The walk home grew increasingly uncomfortable as the February air froze the wet muck to her legs and arms. Her feet were frozen and ached, having decided to carry her mud-filled shoes. She snuck inside and inched her way up to the bathroom across from her bedroom, cringing at every small noise she made.

She started washing with a loofah, keeping all her clothes on and trying not to get soaked by the shower. She would need to sneak her muddy clothes into the dirty laundry and simply pray that Mrs. Lambert didn’t notice them.

“Penny,” Aaliyah said, banging open the door. Her eyes flashed at the mud coating the bathroom. “Oooh, you’re in trouble.”

“Please, don’t—.”

“Mrs. Lambert! Mrs. Lambert, you should see what Penny did!”

Penny stumbled from the shower-bath, slipping and falling in a heap on her mucky shoes. She scrambled to the door, slamming it in Aaliyah’s face just as heavy steps sounded in the hall. The door was flung into her, cracking across her forehead.

“What is all this,” Mrs. Lambert shrieked.

She felt herself dragged from the bathroom; she flailed and freed herself, and ran on all fours into her room. She threw the door shut and felt the doorknob instinctually for the lock that should have been there while a small memory floated in the back of her mind of the Lamberts lecturing her shortly after she arrived on how they didn’t allow foster kids the ability to lock the doors.

Mrs. Lambert burst through the door. She screamed and ranted as she dragged Penny back to the bathroom. She ordered her to clean and threw down a musty smelling mop.

Aaliyah gave her a gloating smirk before stalking off to her room.

Penny began wiping the floor with shaking hands. Her ears strained for the slightest sounds; Emily returned home and gave her an exasperated glance on her way to her room, Mr. Lambert returned and angry hisses between him and Mrs. Lambert quickly ensued. She had the floor finished before her nerves settled.

She crept back to her room. She moved her desk chair in front of the door. It wouldn’t stop the Lamberts from coming in, but it would be more of a hassle than just walking through the door. She shed her wet, muddy clothes, and changed into Goodwill sweats. Her phone was clutched in her hands.

She listened hard for a second to make sure all was relatively still outside, then hit the contact number for St. Brigid’s.

“Home of Hope,” a woman answered.

“Oh. …Sorry. I thought this was St. Brigid’s Home….”

“It was. Can I help you with anything, young lady?”

“...Why is the name different,” Penny asked uneasily.

“Homes change names from time to time. It’s nothing to worry about,” the woman said. “Are you looking for help? Can I have your name?”

“I’m looking for Sister Mary Agnes. Can–May I speak with her?” There was a pause. “Aisling Fox? Her non-nun name is Aisling Fox.” Her heart was starting to beat rapidly at the increasing tenseness coming from the other end. “Is Mother Mary Clare there?”

“No…. May I ask again who is calling?”

“P-Penny. My name is Penny Fox.” She gave a hearty sniff. “Penrose. They might have me under Penrose Fox. I-I used to live there. Aisling is my aunt.”

“Oh… I see,” the voice said sympathetically. “I’m afraid I don’t have any contact information for anyone from before the changes. You see, Penny, St. Brigid’s Home was found to be in violation. Too much influence from outside of the state.”

Penny was having trouble catching her breath; it coming in short, rapid bursts. “W-when?”

“Last summer. I believe near the end of July. Start of August. Sometime around then.”

Roughly a week after she was sent to the Lamberts. It made sense why none of her letters went answered. It made sense why contact had completely stopped. Aisling was not her legal guardian in any respect. There was no obligation for anyone to let her know where she’d been sent. She may not have even been allowed back to St. Brigid’s, going from her mother’s funeral arrangements right into being cast aside.

“I’m sorry I can’t give you your aunt’s contact, but is there anything else you want?”

“N-no,” Penny choked out. “I-I-I just wanted t-to know why she stopped writing. Bye.”

She held the phone feeling numb. Aisling was gone with no way to find her. No help was coming in her distress with the Lamberts.

She slowly focused from nothing to her muddy clothes. She opened her phone, and a small, sad smile formed as she stared at the picture she had taken of the ball of light.

------------------------------

I think Penny's been with the Lamberts for around 5 months in the first part and 6 months in the second. I cannot remember the name of Penny's cellphone. I think it was an early Samsung with one of those edgy teen focused names that they used to do when they had stripped down versions of cellphones for kids. The lime green was the most common one that popped up when I typed the name in to an image search. (LG Rumor, I found it in my search history.) Man, they used to just make things with personally as far back at 2012. This phone could take photos but not videos, and I believe there was no internet access (and data plans, calls, minutes used to be such a big thing).

Appalacia/West Virginia has a whole lore with will o' the wisps too, but they're more commonly/locally called haunts/haints. The blue-white ones are not supposed to be malevolent. They apparently come in green, yellowish like a candle, and red too.

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August 03, 2026
DO.Penny.3

Dear Ashling,

Penny stared at the heading, knowing something wasn't right but not sure what. She always tripped up on the heading.

You haven’t written back yet.

It was redundant. Aisling would know she hadn’t written; she would know months have passed since they saw each other. She had written so many unanswered letters at this point that she didn’t know what to put into one. Her complaints about her foster family and foster siblings were exhausted. It no longer felt safe to write about it, and definitely didn’t feel safe to mention the gnomes in the neighbor’s garden or the giant bird she saw during the last storm with lightning on its wings.

The paper was snatched from before her, jerking her from her wandering thoughts. She leapt up and spun around the chair, grabbing fruitlessly at the page as a taller girl with beaded cornrows waved it overhead.

“Give it back, Aaliyah!”

“Ooo, Ashling! Who's that? Aw, she never writes back? Aww.”

“Give it back!”

Aaliyah crumpled the paper and threw it over Penny’s head. Penny dived for it.

“She doesn't write because she doesn't care, stupid. They're paid to pretend. All case workers are.”

Penny smoothed the paper the best she could, mostly to avoid Aaliyah's hard gaze. “She’s my aunt….”

There was a pause before Aaliyah cackled nastily. She put on a show, doubling over and wiping tears from her eyes.

“That’s worse! She's family and ignoring you!” She huffed for breath. “She doesn't want you, Penny. Stop trying. It's sad.”

Aisling couldn't take her without giving up her vows. She wasn’t sure how it would even work if she did give up her vows. Aisling had no money due to the vow of poverty. Her skills were limited to religious service, outside of magic which she hid. There was no telling what her support was like now that her mother had died. Friends had come to fetch her, but as far as Penny was aware, Aisling and Keena were still strained.

Keena gave her up for a reason, and even now had not tried to reconcile with her.

Penny wandered outside to avoid Aaliyah and change scenery. The trees were still green, but the breeze was decidedly chilly to signal fall coming. She crawled into a gap in the hedge that sat on the property line, flopping on her stomach to watch the neighbor’s garden.

“What are you doing?”

She shimmied out of the bushes, popping up before she was clear. The twigs ripped at her hair and left leaves strewn about. She blinked at the girl standing on the other side of the hedge.

This girl was skinny with lank bangs. She wore a baggy short sleeved shirt over a long sleeved one, and held her elbow as she shifted her weight from foot to foot. They seemed to be about the same age.

“I was hiding from Aaliyah,” Penny said, climbing fully to her feet and plucking leaves from her dark brown hair. “She’s my foster sister.”

“I know her. …She’s mean.” She nodded over her shoulder. “I’m a foster too. With them.”

“Really? Huh. That’s kind of weird the neighbors have a foster kid too.”

“This whole cul-de-sac has them. I think they all went into it together for extra support or something. Or….” She stared down at her toes. “I’m Brooke, by the way.”

“Penny.”

“I know,” Brooke said, kicking at the ground. “I’ve been watching you. Not in a creepy way! I… I wanted to make sure you weren’t like Aaliyah before talking to you.”

She studied this shy, semi-awkward girl in front of her. Her clothes were clearly worn hand-me-downs just like hers. She had this forlorn air to her than had Penny giving her a sympathetic smile. She had benefited from having Aisling in her corner, having shelter at St. Brigid’s. Brooke was probably bounced around far more than she was.

“Want to start eating lunch together at school,” Penny asked. “People avoid me. Maybe because I’m still too new. Or because Aaliyah.”

“Sure,” Brooke said. A smile fought onto her gaunt face. “Want to… hang out now?”

---

Gaining a friend her age helped Penny not ruminate over Aisling’s lack of communication. Having one person turned into having a small group; the kids that were seen as weird or outsiders, but all were just creative in some way.

Penny shuffled through the slush with Brooke at her side. They mentioned annoying things that teachers did at school that day. They shared no classes so the teacher stories were always something new while also being the same.

They were almost to their houses when Aaliyah knocked hard into Penny. She skidded and fell into the slush. Brooke shrunk away, offering no help. Penny went to snap at her, but she already stormed off into the house.

“She looked upset,” Brooke said meekly.

“Probably picked on someone she shouldn’t’ve,” Penny growled. She shook slush from her backpack. “I better go change before the Lamberts see. Catch you tomorrow.”

She managed to get upstairs without being spotted. She was just pulling on a pair of large, worn sweats when her door opened with no warning. She yanked her pants up as she stood, heart pounding, facing a middle-aged woman with long, fake nails and an elaborate perm.

“Why are you changing,” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Aali—I fell,” Penny said. “Slipped.”

“And now I have extra laundry to do.” Mrs. Lambert glowered. “Dinner in forty. Be downstairs to set the table in thirty.”

She flinched as the door slammed shut. She took a few breaths before sinking back onto her bed. She pulled out a sheet of paper and pen from her damp back pack.

Dear Aisling,

I learned how to spell your name. My friend Brooke told me. I told you about Brooke in my last letter, just in case you forgot.

She stared at the page. Her eyes stung.

You still haven't written back, so I don’t know if you even know I made a friend. I have a couple. It helps a little. My foster family is

She wiped her eyes with the heel of her palm. She crumpled the paper and left the room.

Dinner was one of the casseroles from a box that Mrs. Lambert resorted to every other night. The biological family—Mr. And Mrs. Lambert and their fifteen-year-old daughter, Emily—all rattled away at each other while Penny and Aaliyah sat in silence, picking at their food.

“Oh, Aaliyah, remind me to lend you that new sweater for the Christmas potluck,” Emily said. “It’ll be cute over that dress.”

“How thoughtful,” Mrs. Lambert said through gritted teeth.

“Is the Catholic church nearby,” Penny asked. She looked away from the others as they met her with various glares and confused looks. “I was thinking… maybe I’d go for Christmas Eve….”

“I’m not a taxi,” Mrs. Lambert said. “You go to our church when under our roof.”

Penny wanted to burst out about how they didn’t like their church; they constantly complained and gossiped about others in the congregation. They made a show of dragging all of them to service on Sunday, elbowing them to sing loudly. They made loud comments of their contributions and charity whenever someone from the congregation was within earshot. That was all it was: show.

She nodded subservantly, eyes fixed on her plate.

“We do the potluck at our church,” Emily said. “It’s our tradition.” She turned to Aaliyah. “It’s crazy to think this is your second one. The fifteenth marks a whole year since you came.”

Aaliyah’s jaw tightened. She gave a small nod and forced food into her mouth to avoid answering Emily’s perplexed stare.

“Oh, before I forget again; that Ms. Beaucourt called my office,” Mr. Lambert said, shooting Penny an accusatory glare.

“Of course she did,” Mrs. Lambert said, rolling her eyes. “She’s been pestering me to get this one–” pointing her fork at Penny “–a phone. I told her I’d look into it, and I’ve been dodging her calls since.”

“I thought they were supposed to have a phone,” Emily said. “Aaliyah has a phone. An iPhone, right?”

“Yep,” Aaliyah mumbled sulkily.

“Aaliyah had hers when she arrived,” Mrs. Lambert said. “And, she’s older than Penny. I just think smaller children with phones is ridiculous.”

“Isn’t it so they can call their case worker whenever they want,” Emily asked.

“The house phone works for that,” Mrs. Lambert said. “Those smartphones are rife with unsavory types trying to take advantage.” She stabbed her food. “Don’t you think it’s enough I worry about you with one?” She quickly added as Emily opened her mouth, “And Aaliyah? No. You girls are older. You have better understanding. And I still worry.”

“Don’t fluster your mother,” Mr. Lambert said. “I’ll talk to Ms. Beaucourt tomorrow. Tell her the fears more firmly.” He scoffed. “Besides, how are we supposed to afford that?”

“They are expensive…,” Emily trailed off.

The stipend the Lamberts received each month would have more than covered it. Penny was already wearing Goodwill clothes, or Emily’s hand-me-downs she was handed from the source herself before Mrs. Lambert could donate them away. All her school supplies had come from Dollar Tree, and Mrs. Lambert spent hardly anything on snacks. Penny wasn’t sure the exact amount a foster parent received each month, but with Aaliyah receiving the same treatment, she suspected there was a great deal of money left each month. She also suspected the new TV was paid for by that stipend.

She readied for bed after dinner, and found herself at her desk with the unfinished letter. She recrumpled it and dropped it in the wire wastebasket. She flopped onto her bed and stared up at the darkening ceiling.

Murmurs from Aaliyah’s room indicated Emily and she were talking. They spoke a bit almost every night, usually peppered with giggles, but this had an extra hushness to it. She heard something about pictures and a boy sharing them, but not enough to put the pieces together.

She wondered if Aisling had any pictures of her family, specifically of her mother. She never thought to ask before, and now with nearly six months of silence it seemed impossible she would get the chance to ask her.

She jumped out of bed, ripped a page from her spiral notebook, and sat at her desk.

Dear Aisling,

I want to see family pictures. I know that’s allowed, so you wouldn’t have thrown them out. I don’t think you would throw them out even if you really, really hated my mom. Does writing any of this matter? You haven’t written back. The Lamberts are mean. You and Mother Mary Clare said I had a home there. Doesn’t seem like it.

Penny, your niece

P.S. The garden next door has a gnome. I forgot what they eat so I just watch it sometimes.

Penny squinted at the letter in the weak light. She dropped it back on the desk and climbed back into bed. It felt like she only just shut her eyes when the daily hammering on her door jerked her upright.

“Breakfast,” Mrs. Lambert yelled through the door.

She was sure to dress before going down or else invoke an extra dose of wrath for not being prepared. Aaliyah was in a better mood, which meant she took more cereal than she could eat to deprive Penny of a full bowl.

School was wired with it being a Friday and a week before the winter holidays. No one had any amount of concentration, and the teachers were a mixed bag of aggravated and apathetic at the fractured attention. Penny stared at the clocks most lessons, with only diverting to staring out the widows in the few classes she sat next to one. Her green eyes tracked a small, blue-white ball of light bobbing near the woods bordering the school grounds.

She waited outside the school for Brooke. The throngs of kids thinned; Aaliyah stalked by with a toss of her beaded braids as a jeer of “ooh la la” followed from a group of boys. Penny leaned to stare down the long, main corridor to check for her friend.

Brooke was hovering by her locker near the end of the hall. She was chatting animatedly, smiling up at a young man she’d previously pointed out as her English teacher. Penny tightened her grips on her backpack straps as she watched his hand clap Brooke’s shoulder, run down her arm, and back up before he departed. She straightened and pretended not to have seen anything, smiling as Brooke joined her outside.

“Sorry,” Brooke said. “Mr. McBride wanted to talk about my poem.”

“Good news,” Penny asked.

“An A with a revision,” Brooke said proudly.

Penny hummed, her eyes now watching the treeline as they passed. There was no sign of the will o’ the wisp. She felt a twinge of disappointment.

“Something up?”

“Not really… Just thinking.” She turned her gaze to her worn, slush-dampened shoes. “This is totally random, but… do you believe in magic?”

“Of course not,” Brooke said with a slightly disgusted snort. She looked at Penny from under her limp bangs. “Wait, do you?” Penny shrugged. “Isn’t that kind of babyish?”

“I guess,” Penny murmured. “Maybe I want to believe…? Like, maybe it’d just be more interesting if will o’ the wisps, or gnomes, or unicorns lived in the woods too. You know?”

“The monsters would have to exist too, and a big no thanks to that,” Brooke said.

“Well, a dragon would be a lot cooler than bad foster parents,” Penny joked. Brooke’s mouth twitched but a smile failed to form. “Nevermind. I was just daydreaming while I was waiting.” She bounced towards her house, stopping and spinning back to Brooke. “One more week and then no school! Catch you tomorrow, Brooke!”

She rushed off with her fake enthusiasm, but didn’t fail to catch that Brooke hung around outside looking forlorn and lank. Penny watched her shuffle off through the wavy glass of the front door.

“You!” Penny jumped as Mrs. Lambert stormed towards her with a crumpled paper in her hand. “Mean! I’m mean! You ungrateful brat! Upstairs. No dinner. Now!”

She dodged around the furious woman, racing up the stairs. She stopped outside her door, spinning to address the stare she felt.

Aaliyah stood in her own doorway, shaking her head and looking at Penny as if she was a particularly stupid creature. Penny narrowed her eyes and slammed her door shut.

-------------------------------

For the other kids' names, I go check what was popular in that area or for that demographic in approximate birth year range. I'm not sure I have much else to add, lol. I've been really tired so my brain isn't functioning right. This one took longer than the others because I was trying to figure out the pacing. Penny's with the Lamberts for a bit, so I was torn on everything in this one and it's just really long, or split in into two or three chapters. Right now, it's the two or three.

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More Sketchbook Musings: Echoes of Aravast

In this edition of fun things from the physical archives - Echoes of Aravast and related sketches!

"Forgotten" Gemini Initial Sketch, unknown

This was early on when I got the idea of a "survivor Gemini" that may actually escape the Gemini Archives. She already has her sonic blade, her dog tag (back when that was an idea) and a surprisingly similar outfit (The two-toned hair was me trying on a wig over my existing hair and thinking it looked awesome lol).

 

Protection, 2013/4?

Ian was a new character in the Gemini Archives, and he quickly decided he was coming over to the new story with Gemini. I liked the initial story/plot I had going for Echoes of Aravast, but I was struggling to write it. All it took was changing Gemini's power and throwing her into one more Gemini Archive to spark the Westfall thread...

Ian ended up staying pretty similar to his current Aravasti variant - he was a Lux who could create light shields - only in Echoes of Aravast, he was born on Barea with Aravasti genetics and discovered his power by accident - like Ace would later. Actually, The Outlier takes the basic plot of Echoes, so I still got to have it to some extent :)

 

The Panic in Me, 2014

I have a digital drawing on this one, but since it's from a storyline that didn't make it, I removed it from my website 🤷 These 2 were going to have a very slow burn relationship that only showed where it ended up in a flash forward at the very end. At least their devotion to each other still made the final cut ;) The title/mood is from a song from The Road to El Dorado by Elton John. Great song.

 

Ian Sticky Note Art, 2015?

I found a couple of these colorful sticky note drawings! Not bad for pen on a 3"x3" sticky note!

 

Sparrow Sticky Note Art, 2015?

Sparrow and Gabriel were actually going to be in Echoe of Aravast... but alas, they just get to stay my token dancers :)

 

Cinder Sketch, 2015

So... yeah.

One of the ideas for Echoes was Ian accidentally getting sent in to Barea's past where he's in this weird feudal variant where humans and creatures work codependently (Narnia? lol). Ian ends up paired with Cinder the pied crow and they both serve a knight as his armor bearer and squire. Gemini eventually figures out how to get to where she sent him, and he's years older and embittered, but also stronger because of his experience. Cinder was kind of a comic relief, wise-cracking bird... but he was the first to be cut along with the rest of the rest of the talking animals.

 

The Outlier Awakens, 2020

A neat drawing of Ace when his Aravasti powers awaken underwater. The body proportions are kinda wonky, but those hands 👌 This would be a nice one to redo one day!

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