The first thing I noticed—in a small act of rebellion—was the room itself. Walls paneled with bare oak rose from the gleaming marble floors and solid stone bookshelves stretched towards the vaulted ceiling. The back wall (made entirely of glass) cast light on everything else.

The first window I'd seen. I scanned the view for geographical clues, but the glass wall revealed a gorgeous sight that took my breath away for all the wrong reasons.

It was gorgeous. The tree-covered landscape had undulating hills which turned into stubby mountains in the distance, but it was all wrong. The trees were so emerald they caught the light and shone like real gems, the sky held an odd, unnaturally golden hue, and there was absolutely no civilization in sight. Even if I managed to escape, I wouldn't have a clue as to where to go. That landscape—one that reminded me way too much of Auntie's stories—was untamed and seemingly endless. The hope in my heart turned from a buoy to an anchor in an instant.

"Isn't it just lovely?" Someone asked, dragging my attention from the outside world. Strategically placed in the center of the room, a large snakewood table dominated the room's heart. Seven pairs of eyes stared back at me. Perhaps this is 'The Board' that Reese was talking about.

I drew a frown, analyzing each face and burning their features into my mind for later police reports. These were the people who had kidnapped me. They were all dressed in odd, lavish clothes and ranged from their early thirties to late sixties. The woman who spoke wore a dress glittering with garnets. What were their motives?

"Formal greetings," the woman at the center commented when my eyes fell to hers. She seemed to analyze my movements like a hawk watching a field mouse. Her piercing blue eyes were cunning and dangerous and... and familiar.

Those eyes. Realization slapped me against a brick wall of Stupidity. Without a doubt in the world, I knew those eyes.

I felt a building desire to accept the cliches and faint in that moment.

Perhaps if the year was 1852, I could've just swooned, and everyone would assume that my corset was too tight. However, despite the fact that my fancy dress reminded me of the archaic Victorian era, and despite the fact that I desperately wanted to faint that moment away, it was not something I could feign with much success.

So, instead, I ran.

Or, attempted to. I turned on my heel, lunging for the door, and rammed face-first into the immobile Scary Lady with a loud oomph.

Chuckles arose behind me, and Scary Lady forced me to face the table of people. I doubt they appreciated such terrible etiquette, but I continued to struggle against the steely grip of Scary Lady until she released me. I folded my arms in front of me, taking a defiant stance even as my heart pounded in my throat. Be strong, not scared.

The old man sitting next to her chuckled and spoke, "Well, one thing is for certain, Annora. She definitely is your daughter."

***

"So it is you." My voice was surprisingly level. I expected it to shake like the rest of my body which quivered with shock and disbelief. I pressed my arms tighter against my chest in an effort to hide my trembling hands.

When I was six, Auntie had given me a picture of her and my mother together. They were young—Auntie, eighteen, and my mom somewhere near fifteen—and smiling wildly into the camera, shoulders slung over one another like great friends. When I was twelve, I'd gotten so angry at her for dying that I'd torn the picture to shreds and thrown it away. But, even after all that time, those eyes still occasionally haunted my dreams.

"Yes, Gwyndolyn," she placed her clasped hands above the table, offering a slight smile, "I am your mother."

It sounded like a poorly done Star Wars gender-swap, but it didn't have anywhere near the same effect. Her words cast a heavy blanket over my senses, enveloping my thoughts with sticky, inhibiting molasses.

The feeling seeped through to my bones until I was in a state of total and complete numbness. I should've felt something. Wasn't this news supposed to trigger some piercing pain behind my sternum for the woman I thought I'd lost? Right? Wasn't that how it worked?

All I could do was focus on her face and look for discrepancies. The picture had shown her stunning blue eyes which contrasted against her dark curls, but it in no way did her justice. Her eyes were so much more brilliant, and her hair was raven-black. She was stunning.

"Why did you kidnap me?" I asked while I was busy wondering, Why did you abandon me?

She lifted her chin, glancing at each of her associates. "That's... complicated."

I felt that. I drew my shoulders back as old emotions reasserted themselves, flushing out the numbness. Bitterness won the secure hold. "It better be." Why else would someone abandon a baby only to snatch her up fifteen years later?

"Watch your expressions, mikros." The white-haired woman among them growled. She appeared ready to say more, but my biological mother raised her fist, signaling the older woman to fall silent.

"Leave us," my biological mother barked at her tablemates. "This is a family matter."

The moment the command left her lips, they rose as ordered. They passed on either side of me, not-so-subtly staring as they passed. I was like the new kid in the neighborhood, and they couldn't decide where I would fit in their social hierarchy. I returned their stares with the same level of scrutiny.

As Scary Lady pulled the door closed with a soft click, I returned my focus to the table of three—my biological mother and the two oldest members of 'The Board' (one of which was still scowling after her previous outburst). The man seated next to my biological mother broke the silence.

"Please, sit," he offered, gesturing towards the highback chair station in front of the table.

I wavered, but he was the only one to have a warm, familiar smile about him, so I finally obliged as realization settled on my shoulders. I couldn't suppress my own knowing grin as I slipped into the chair. "Happy... Grandfather?"

He tilted his head back to release a quiet chuckle. "Nice induction."

He had Auntie’s smile.

"Perhaps," the white-haired woman mused, "but she doesn't seem to have much respect." She drew her chin up, narrowing her dark blue eyes. If it was an attempt to intimidate, it worked. Her stormy eyes held the same deadly certainty and cunning that I associated with a serial killer or murderous clown.

And she was my grandmother.

I broke eye contact with her and looked back to my mother. "It's hard to hold much fealty for the dead." I could feel my heart hammering in my chest, but I maintained a passive facade. My anger was like liquid Valium—it steadied my voice and calmed my trembling hands. "Again, why did you kidnap me? After all these years, why didn't you just go on pretending that I didn't exist?"

I had to bite my tongue to stop the fury from clogging my vocal cords. I was just mad. Nearly fifteen years and nothing? What's a good enough reason to abandon your own daughter? I was not something she could toss aside and decide she wanted later.

My anger had no effect on her.

She pursed her lips carefully. "All your questions will be answered in time. Right now, you should focus on adjusting to life as the heir to the Dareship. Welcome home."

"Home?!" My voice cracked in indignation. "I belong in Georgia w-with my family."

She drew herself forward, and her eyes turned cold. "You, Gwyndolyn, do not belong in Georgia." Her face contorted at the word as if it were a heinous insult.

I was shaking with emotion. "Why?" The word flew from my lips like a bullet from a gun.

"Because this is where you belong." She said. Did she realize she was just repeating the same thing in different ways? I wasn't that stupid, but she took me for some fool.

My jaw became harder than marble, chopping my speech into rough, disjointed words. "No. I do not. I don't even know where 'here' is."

"Roanoke."

"As in Roanoke Island?" I couldn't remember exactly where Roanoke was on the map, but I remembered it from history class, and I was fairly certain it was within six or seven hours from Greensboro. (I was wrong.)

Her gaze flicked towards the older woman before speaking again. "Not the Roanoke you associate the name with. Our people inhabit a... lesser-known area."

Uneasiness began to stir in my gut. "Who exactly are your people?"

"Our people are the Telvin race."

"The Telvin race?" My hands trembled. She couldn't mean the Telvi from Auntie's book. She couldn't possibly mean the made-up characters Elise had ridiculed. They were children's stories.

She continued on, unaware that the absurdity slowly drowning me. "It is one of the many names inhabitants of the Elysian Realm have been given over the millennia. Other names include Kyrios, Fae, the Blessed, and many, many more." In my head, the list continued. Auntie occasionally referred to them as the People of a Hundred Names.

"Each group was once apart of Banal Realm before they were pulled into the Elysian Realm—an alternate realm that experiences time by the turn of the moon instead of the sun. You are a proud descendant of what was once the colony of Roanoke."

Are we sure about that? I tried to nod along—honest to goodness, I tried to say something—but my brain was drowning in the insanity of her words. They lined up so well with Auntie's stories. What was happening? How did she know so much about my obscure book of stories?

She paused as if evaluating my mental stability. "I understand this is a great deal of information to process, but it is imperative that you know the general aspects of our society."

She seemed satisfied by her own schooling and continued. "There are currently four recognized humanoid societies along with numerous other species groups that inhabit our realm. The spatial phenomenon that connects our two planes—a Gilgamesh Phenomenon—alters any biotic organism within the immediate range of the rip."

She paused again, noticing my cursory glances towards the door with clear concern. I was wondering whether I could make another run for it. What she was saying was impossible, which meant I was either surrounded by insane people, or I was dying somewhere off Interstate 40 imagining all of this nonsense. If the latter was true, then making an escape for the door was futile.

"Perhaps a physical demonstration would validate your words for her," my grandfather said, making me pause from my end-of-life thoughts. My eyes flew to him.

"Perhaps you are right," my biological mother sighed, nodding to my grandmother.

The older woman examined me, pressing her lips together. She raised her hand from her lap to reveal a gloved hand. Not breaking eye contact, she slipped a glove carefully from one hand, spread her hand wide, and touched her fingers to the tabletop.

At first, I noticed nothing, but then, slowly, the table began to tremble. I watched as she closed her eyes and the magnitude intensified. The floor began to quake beneath my feet, forcing me to grab my chair for support. My heart leapt into my throat and began to choke me from the inside. When the huge stone bookcase began to shiver, I exclaimed, "Stop!"

Above the noise, she heard my cry and withdrew her hand, causing everything to cease quicker than it had started.

I managed short, ragged breaths. "H-how d-did that... How did you do that?!"

It couldn't be like Auntie's stories. Those were fairy tales. Nothing more.

"The phenomenon happens in a cyclical pattern of elemental disruption—earth, air, fire, and water. The Gilgamesh Phenomenon made it possible for the people of Roanoke to possess limited control over the element Earth." My biological mother explained like it was as simple as two times two equals five. But, barring the philosophical arguments of Fyodor Dostoevsky, two times two does NOT equal five.

This was all equally impossible. I knew it was impossible. I knew people couldn't do these sort of things, I knew my mother was dead, and I knew my grandparents were gone. In reality, I was dying somewhere off I-40 right past some greasy gas station that was probably called "Bubba's". I had to be.

Then again, the childish part of my brain that still believed in monsters murmured, maybe not. That same small piece of me wanted to believe her for the sake of fantasy. I didn't want to be a cautionary tale about talking to strangers. I wanted a mom who was alive, and, perhaps more than anything else, I wanted a world better one where my words meant nothing when Colel spoke, and I only made the softball team because Haylie Renfrow tore her ACL.

But, that's why it couldn't be real. Because I had wanted Sloane to be okay for a long time, and what I wanted had never come true. I needed some greater proof that this was reality. And that something appeared almost immediately.

My biological mother glanced down at her wristwatch and pursed her lips at what she saw there. "We have other things to attend to." She gathered herself and stood. "Agent Rosamund Alexandris will ensure your protection for the foreseeable future. Be careful Gwyndolyn. Your return comes at a terrible time where many individuals within these city walls wish to see you fail. You cannot acquiesce to their desires, or it will bring down chaos on this family."

Her warning was sincere, but her delivery came across dismissive as she glanced towards the clock. Her voice offered less saccharin coating to her concerns and desire to protect me. I replayed her words in my head, noticing a common thread in everything she had said so far. It was as though the facade was chipping away to reveal something else, something...

A dark realization finished forming in my head, and it made my stomach plummet. A upsetting possibility rose to the surface. "Did you want me?" I asked so quietly I wasn't sure she would be able to hear it.

"I—" She paused, considering her words. She glanced at her hands, fiddling with her wedding band as she spoke. "Your life has caused a lot of hardships, and before it is over, you will cost many people more pain."

I nodded, ignoring the sting on my face as if I'd been slapped. Be strong, not sad. At least now I knew this was no longer a dream. In my dreams, my mother always wanted me.

"So, what about my father?" I asked bitterly. Anger was the only thing that kept me from spiraling.

She froze. "What of him?"

"Is he just as apathetic of my existence as you?" I inquired as the most glorious unchecked venom flowed through my words.

"Do not speak of things that you do not understand," she growled, revealing her anger for the first time.

No one breathed as she pushed back her chair and strode out. After a heartbeat, my grandmother followed at a more collected speed.

My grandfather took more time, pausing at the door. It was just a split second, nothing more, and I almost didn't think anything of it. However, as he pulled the door closed, I caught his quiet words.

"Welcome to the family."