Hi. This is a new story I have been working on for five months. It's kind of a spoiler because it was a long while after my other stories, but I can't wait to publish this. Besides, I've made a promise to a friend that I'll do it, so here it is.

The Way Home

by Hecate's Apprentice 1997

Prologue

Claira Feye waited impatiently outside her mother's room. She was pretty well shaken about this stuff. But her mother is a goddess, she told herself. Hecate would be fine. After all, it was just a baby.

A baby. Claira shuddered.

"Oh my gods," a new voice full of feinted surprise said next to her. "Claira had baby phobia? Man, I've gotta post that on the news board."

The witch grounded her teeth, and without opening her eyes, said, "If you dare, Silvera, I swear on my friends' grave that I will cut you to pieces! I do not care what happens to my soul afterward!"

A teenager with black hair and flashing blue eyes, the one who was regarded as "Silvera", laughed. "Aw, c'mon, Claira! Loosen up! It's not like the end of the world or anything," he said, punching her in the arm. Claira scowled at him and turned away. "What? You don't want another brother?" he asked.

"Don't be stupid. I want that baby. He's my brother," Claira shot back, then paused thoughtfully. "But what I fear is: why don't we keep him here, with us? I've done some researches on this Mr. Williams. He's a great person, but he had heart problems. He wouldn't live too for too long. If Mr. Williams die, then the boy will have to end up on the run. Keeping him here will be much safer."

Silvera nodded. "I have the same thoughts, but the child must be raised by his mortal parent. If any goes wrong, we could always send out a canine agent or something to pick him up."

Claira snorted. "Your canine agents didn't look very well these days, captain. I don't want a half-dead dog going around protecting my brother. I need a good guardian."

Silvera looked offended. "Hey, give them a break. After chasing down a traitorous group of renegade wizards, don't they deserve a break?" he asked her. And besides, Olympians aren't supposed to interfere with their kids' faith, remember?"

"You picked me up when I was thirteen," Claira reminded Silvera. "You helped me with numerous quests. Why couldn't the same go for my brother here?"

Silvera sighed. "You are an exception. You are destined to come here and be Hecate's right-hand lieutenant. Your new brother is not. Whatever his fate is, Hecate could no longer interfere with it. The moment he gets turned to his father, he is on his own."

Claira nodded. The two became quiet, listening to the noises inside. But there was none. Not even a soothing sentence. Hecate doesn't need soothing. She prefers the bitter truth, and being a goddess of magic, she could give herself a painkiller spell anytime.

Finally, the sound of a baby's crying could be heard. And then Martha, the lady that had been chosen to go with Hecate as she gives birth (Claira shuddered again at the thought), exclaimed, "Oh, what a handsome little boy we've got here!"

"He'll be pretty if he looks exactly opposite as you are," Silvera whispered slyly and ducked as Claira reached out to punch his face. They knocked on the door together, simultaneously.

The door swung open, and they didn't look that surprised to see Hecate already on her feet, dressed in a simple nightgown and looking with great joy at the little dark blue bundle in Martha's arms. Claira made a few strange gagging sounds at the thoughts of "baby", and Silvera had to bite into his finger to stop himself from laughing out loud.

"Claira," Hecate said, taking the bundle from Martha. The goddess smiled at the woman who helped her. As far as Claira knows, Martha had served under Hecate for more than twenty-seven years in wizard's calendar. Despite her middle-aged look, Martha was one thousand nine hundred and forty-seven years old. She was born in 1913, and the current year was 2060.

"Yes, Mother?" Claira stepped forward. Hecate's room was on the top of her island, where she lived with her students. From her lightly veiled bed-room which had no window whatsoever, Claira could see the clear moon and ocean in the horizon. The island ground was covered with trees and paths and students no younger than fifty years old in human years running around arguing about who gets to ride the griffon next and things like that.

Hecate handed her the bundle. Claira glanced at her brother. Not too bad. He wasn't sleeping, but he wasn't crying, either. Good boy. "Take him to Mason's house," the goddess said. "Leave a note telling him what name this child is to have."

"And what is it?" Claira asked, observing the child. He had violet eyes, typical of Hecate's kids, and his hair was brown. He wasn't a mirror image of Hecate like she was; his features were sharper, but no one could say he was not like her.

The goddess of magic smiled lightly, touching the child's forehead. "His name is Eremeth. Eremeth Williams."

Claira raised an eyebrow at her mother's peculiar choice of name, but she decided not to argue. "Eremeth" in Runic, the mages' language, means "truthful one". Or it could also mean "unlikely". She hoped it was the first, not the last.

Nodding, Claira turned to leave the room. "C'mon," she told Silvera. "Let us go."

Except she wasn't talking to a person. In Silvera's place was an obsidian husky, big as a horse and of course, mountable. He growled in anticipation and followed her.

That left Hecate and Martha alone in the room together. The old mage turned to her goddess with curiosity. "My lady, I could have taken that baby myself," she said, but not with dislike. Martha wasn't known for her dark feelings toward just about anyone but Thomas the Prankster and his gang.

Hecate shook her head. "No, not you. I want to see how my daughter reacts toward having a new brother. She is not the kind that likes to be the second to best. I think she took it well," Hecate replied. She turned toward the moon and watched as a shadow of a wolf shot toward the ocean and then vanished. The goddess sighed once more before gesturing with her hands and closing the blinds surrounding her "room".

Martha took that as a clue for her to leave. She hastily did so.

0o0o0o0o0

Claira was having trouble. It had been a long time since she runs errands for her mother, and to be honest, she was growing old. Silvera wasn't, though, and that was the unfortunate part. He was, in fact, using this little chance of freedom to show off his speed.

"Slow down, for the gods' sake!" Claira screamed against the winds, clutching Eremeth tightly. The baby wasn't crying. It made her wonder if Hecate had put a silence spell on him before giving him to her.

"What? Getting scared, old lady?" Silvera growled back, his paws barely touching the water. Claira had put a special spell on his legs to run above the water surface.

"You wish!" Claira shouted. "It's the baby, you birdbrain!"

Silvera chuckled, but he did as he was told; he slowed down. After all, Lady Hecate and Claira would have his head if the baby drops into the sea or something. No use in asking Poseidon back the kid then. His sharks would have already devoured him.

At two o'clock in the morning, they arrived at their destination: Mesquite, Texas. Claira walked the streets, fearing some mortals might poke their heads out and call the police and at the same time, looking for house number 1213. When she found it, she fished out a note and put it on Eremeth's bundle. The baby had fallen asleep on their journey. Then the lieutenant of Hecate put him down on the doorstep.

"Good luck, my brother," Claira whispered. Then looking wistfully at him one last time, she turned on her heels and looked at Silvera, her partner. "It's time we leave."

Together, they vanished into the night.

That is only the prologue. I will probably just delete it if this sucks. But reviews are appreciated. And if you want to know about Claira Feye and her history, check out my other two stories: The King of Monsters and The Souls of Magic. Second one still not finished yet, but it will be. Soon.

Thank you for reading.