Chapter Four

  Realization

  ?

  Freya rose from her warm bed into an unfortunately familiar cold. Despite years of complaining, her father had yet to call the HVAC guy to come see why her room was always twenty degrees colder than the rest of the house. She considered turning over in bed when the events of her dream came to her like a flood. She let out a string of muffled curses, got out of bed, and slid on her capybara slippers. A sinking pit consumed her. Those dreams were always the worst, the ones that made her despair upon confirming it was all just her imagination.

  A spike of panic ran through her as she turned back to bed. Her copy of The Hobbit was lying open just beside her pillow. She snatched it up for a quick once over. After confirming there were no new blemishes from sleeping with the book all night, she whispered a quick thanks to nobody in particular.

  The smell of eggs and home cooked biscuits slipped through the uneven crack beneath her door. Freya opened it, cringing at the cold metal doorknob. She followed the scent through her small ranch-style home and into the kitchen where her father was hovering over the stove. Her mother sat in the corner of the booth that made up their breakfast nook. She was engrossed in a new unofficial Super Mario Brothers lore book.

  Theory crafting had always been her mother's passion. She even wrote her own Chrono Trigger theory book back in the 90's. It was always a little hard to take all the theories seriously when some of the more popular ones centered around Mario being a secret communist, and Link being dead for all of Majora's Mask.

  A quick peek around her father's shoulder revealed the eggs were just about ready. Scrambled, and with lots of pepper. Perfect. She reached toward the pan for a nibble when her father raised an eyebrow at her through his rimless glasses.

  "I just fought off your mother, don't think I won't do the same to you." He gave her a mock glare, then bumped her away with his hip.

  Freya gave him a not at all mock glare, then grumbled all the way to her seat. "I want to vote for new leadership."

  Her mother looked up and nodded her agreement. "He really is a menace isn't he?"

  At the kitchen island her father put together their plates. "Well, you each get half a vote, and I get three. So I vote to continue my dictatorship."

  "Three? Last time you got two votes!"

  "Last time was too close for comfort, I would rather ensure a healthy lead on the opposition."

  Freya and her mother looked at each other, accepting their defeat. Her father placed a plate in front of both of them. Each filled with eggs, flaky biscuits, and a few roasted tomatoes. Her father sat opposite them with a smaller portion and a cup of coffee. They all dug in.

  "You know, you really ought to treat us nicer," Freya said through a mouthful of biscuit.

  Her father looked from her, to her plate, then back to her. "Right."

  After a few minutes of quiet munching, her mother broke the silence. "So, how was work last night? I thought I heard you come in a bit earlier than usual."

  Freya swallowed. Between finishing the Sulivar book and her odd dream, she had forgotten to concoct a story for her parents. "I, well. I just don't think delivering pizzas is really in my wheelhouse. Too much grease, and you know how likely we are to get robbed? So likely. I mean I'm lucky I've survived this long."

  Her mother and father shared a familiar look. "Freya," Her father said, his tone was hard, but bled into something softer. "Tell us."

  "It's no big deal. A guy slapped a pizza out of my hand, I punched him in the nose. It doesn't need to be a thing."

  "You what?" Her mother said, doing a worse job of holding her tone than her father.

  "Freya…"

  "What? He assaulted me!"

  Her father raised a single finger. "You mean he assaulted your pizza."

  "I assume you don't have a job anymore."

  "I'm also banned from the store."

  Her mother held her face in her hands, trying to conceal the heat building in her warm brown cheeks. "What's happened to you this last year? Dropping out of school, being rude to your friends, now punching people?"

  They didn't understand. She was supposed to do something more with her life. The path she had been on…It was going to lead to nothing. A life of dreary desk work. For some people that was enough. She wished it was enough for her too. Freya tried to speak, but the words caught in her throat, she choked them back down for fear of them turning into tears.

  Her father gave her mother a quick shake of the head. "This isn't table talk. But we will need to discuss this later. We are here for you kiddo, but we can't help if you don't talk to us."

  "I know dad…I'm…sorry. I don't know what is wrong with me." A lie, but what was she supposed to say? That she wouldn't be satisfied until she was rich and famous?

  Her mother gave her father yet another concerned look. Those were getting old. "We will figure it out," she said.

  "If it will make you feel any better, I can give you both one full vote."

  Freya tried to maintain a serious face, but broke in hearbeat. "That's still your three to our two."

  "Yes, but doesn't it feel better now that my victory isn't so vast?"

  "How is-" Searing pain choked off the words. Her shoulder felt as if it had been stabbed with a hot iron.

  "Are you okay?"

  Freya nodded. "Sick stomach, I'll be right back." Why was she lying?

  After a jog to the bathroom for effect, Freya shut the door behind her and yanked off her pajama shirt. The pain in her shoulder had gone quick as it came, a tattoo that looked as if it had been there for years was left as her reward.

  A pair of pens crossed over a sword. Freya's eyes widened. The emblem of the Mind's Mirror. It was just a dream. A stupid, incredible dream. She bit her tongue hard to confirm she wasn't trapped in some Inception dream. The pain was real enough, but of course it had felt real when she was in that other world too.

  She traced her fingers over the tattoo, it wasn't tender. Why was it faded already? Suddenly she put a lot more stock into what The Gardener and Rep had told her. Still, she felt silly considering it despite the evidence right here in front of her. How could it be real? It couldn't.

  Could it?

  #

  ?

  The rest of the morning was something of a blur. The implication of her new tattoo left her without much headspace for anything else. Freya finished off breakfast and waved off any questions her parents had about her job, school, fencing, or a plan. After she caught them whispering about what to do about her for the third time, Freya grabbed up A Break in the Ways, resolving to get something done today.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  She stomped outside, stopping beside the fender of her old 2005 Jeep Liberty. The blue paint was fading and chipping in areas. Her father kept saying it might be time to replace it. But Freya wouldn't have it. This car had seen her through high school, and her three years of college. So what if it was a little rusty? She gave the old thing an appreciative pat, it hadn't let Freya down yet.

  A layer of ice broke away as she yanked on the door. Freya begrudgingly thanked her mother for insisting she put on some gloves. The engine turned over lazily a few times before roaring to life. Not out yet. She thought with a smile. She dropped H.A. Sulivar's book on her passenger seat. Now, it was time to return this piece of shit to Ben.

  Last night's events rolled over in her mind along with an endless parade of questions. Does this mean she could live beyond her years like the Gardener implied? What about her body now? Was it lying in bed, did it disappear? And the magic, oh the possibilities. How much writing would she need to start doing anything of importance? Freya wasn't a writer and never had much desire to do it, but she needed to power her magic somehow.

  When she had enough, what would she choose to do? The Antari in A Darker Shade of Magic had a certain charm to them, would the single black eye be a good look on her? Granted, she wouldn't truly become an Antari, just replicating the abilities as much as she could. It should be possible to leave the black eye off. Freya adjusted the mirror to try and imagine it anyway. Though what she saw made her instinctively slam on the brake. A car's horn let out a long honk behind her. She gave an apologetic wave as they sped around her.

  The reflection didn't show her as she was. With her wavy almost black hair in a high ponytail, wearing a black sweatshirt sporting a Sega Dreamcast logo on the chest and faded jeans. Instead her hair was pulled back tightly in a braid, her eyes were grey rather than brown, and she wore a green tunic over a white long sleeve undershirt. Either she was hallucinating, or something incredible was happening.

  Why was she appearing as she was in that other world? Earlier when she inspected her new tattoo she could see herself just fine.

  Freya turned the mirror back so she could focus on her driving, one near miss was enough. There was plenty of time to ponder her situation later.

  Ben's house was on the other side of Powless, the small town her parents had moved them to after her birth in Madison. She took some time to appreciate her surroundings, despite being back home for six months, the quiet was still hard to get used to. The dorms in Milwaukee were never still, nor was the city outside them. Freya took in the deteriorating houses on the outskirts of town. It was strange, after living in Milwaukee for just a few years these comparatively cramped houses and their small yards felt much more spacious than anything she had seen in the city.

  The Domino's Pizza that served as her steady job during breaks from school passed on the right. Freya shook her head, she had sure made a mess of that. Would Leia and Ben even still be friends with her now they weren't all working together? They didn't spend all that much time together outside of that building. The thought frightened her. Who would she have without them? Her parents were great, and they always did the best they could for her. But Freya needed more than that. She needed to know someone cared about her that wasn't legally obligated to do so.

  Positive thinking, that's what she needed right now. That was the worst case scenario. Ben and Leia had been her friends for years, they wouldn't ditch her because they didn't work together anymore.

  After fifteen minutes Freya pulled onto Ben's street, a quiet upscale neighborhood with houses thrice the size of her own. At the end of the street was Ben's house, it also happened to be the newest one on the street. Some people complained that Ben's parents had built him his dream house at the tender age of twenty three.

  Words like spoiled, trust-fund kid, and leech had always followed him. It was natural to want what he had, hell, Freya certainly did. But she didn't see the point in attacking him over it. Ben was a good guy, caring, and generous. He had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, big deal.

  Freya parked behind Ben's car, a late 90's Chevy Silverado. The stark difference in Ben's car and his house always perplexed her. But enough people asked after his money and lifestyle that she didn't want to follow suit. She turned off the car but sat inside for a few minutes to savor the warmth. The air outside was markedly colder than at her parent's. There were no trees out here to block the wind. Only houses to funnel it into super-cold channels.

  Before she even reached the walkway to his front door, Ben was standing on his front porch waving enthusiastically. He wasn't even wearing shoes. "I heard you had some trouble at work last night. Anything I can do?"

  Freya shook her head as she strode up the walkway. "I'd rather not get into it." She held up his book. "I finished this though!"

  Without another question on what happened last night he took the book from her and waved her inside. Ben really was great. A blast of heat struck her as she crossed the threshold.

  "And?" He asked.

  Freya had been so distracted on the drive over she hadn't actually considered what she would tell him. "It was good!" Inside she cringed.

  Ben beamed. "Really? I know a lot of people online have problems with it, I was afraid you would agree, but Sulivar isn't a bestseller for nothing!"

  Another part of Freya shriveled up and died. "Right, yeah, I really was surprised at how good it was. I wasn't expecting much."

  Ben walked over to her bookshelf. Please don't. Pulled a book down. I really don't want it. Then handed it to her. Why did I do this to myself? The glossy cover of the paperback shined in the white light of the dining room chandelier. A Shell of What Was. Book two of The Ballad of Blood and Iron. She tried to feign interest, maybe she could still get out of this somehow.

  Ben ran his hand across the box set of Sulivar's six novel epic. "I've got all of them, so when you finish that I can get you the next one."

  Freya tried to speak, but she feared digging herself an even deeper hole. She turned the book over in her hands. It was a door-stopper, just like the last. A quick peek in the back revealed this was even longer than A Break in the Ways at just over a thousand pages. Ben considered the bookshelf for a moment, then grabbed the whole box set down.

  "You really don't have to."

  Ben shoved the set into Freya's arms. "Don't sweat it! I've got special editions coming in this week anyway. That way you can get through all of them without having to keep switching them out here. Besides, you are such a quick reader you'll have them back to me in no time."

  Freya hefted the books, then stifled a groan. Oh for fuck sake.