The Tree of Souls. It stands there, tall and mighty, in the middle of the Winterlands. In the middle of my nightmares. To think I believed America would rid me of some of the realms' darker workings; the horrors I'd once faced. That idea is laughable. I have no doubts that this is a dream, not a vision, because it is the same one that has haunted me for so many days –since I left Spence. Since I left Kartik. The tree has withered, died away and began rotting; within days it is dead. The leaves are burning, and I am stuck, helplessly watching, with a torch in one hand, blazing as bright, fierce red as the leaves. That is when I gasp, cry out. In dream and reality I drown in tears, and in the nightmare I collapse in anguish, repeating his name like a mantra. The whole Winterlands falls to the flames. And there is Felicity, swinging her sword like an axe –and doing as much damage as one, hacking at the tree, a mad glare in her eyes. Ann is singing. Not the gentle, beautiful songs, but a solemn requiem, the high pitched, mournful crescendo makes tears leak freely from my eyes – in pain or in sadness, I cannot tell. Yet I am still unable to move! To stop the fire, to stop Felicity in her chaotic slashes, quell Ann's frightful melody.

There is a screech, not unalike nails scraping along a chalkboard. I break free of the stillness and stumble toward the tree, caring for nothing other than Kartik's soul. I trip forward into black eyes, wide and shining, like no human's eyes. I see nothing else, and the screaming reaches a higher volume, climbing louder with every second. I fall to my knees, still trapped in those black, animalistic eyes. I see nothing else of what I'm staring at other than the wild midnight orbs. Every morning, I wake with a scream, only to find it is the same shriek from my dreams.

Thus starts my day, at four am.

The nightmare is not real. It can't be; Philon, Asha, and even the Gorgon have looked – I can't bear the Winterlands, not anymore – and I haven't seen Ann or Felicity in years. In fact, I haven't really had a lot of human contact, especially not from Great Britain. It's too soon, I have only just got here. I know what it feels like to be alone, I was alone once when I was back in Spence, but that was just because I felt betrayed, and with Circe's encouragement, I nearly turned everyone against me. Then, I was afraid. Now, I feel worse, understandably, I'm in a different continent, trying to start my life anew.

I stand up out of bed; no point of trying to sleep again, it is impossible. The regular sickness comes, dizzy, light-headedness, and I have to dash to the bathroom to be sick. It's just an effect of me adjusting to my new life – at least, I hope it is. When I'm done, I feel fine again, so I walk to the hall window to peek outside. Looking out to the new world that once offered me solace, it now seems as dull as day. I can't tell if it is sunny or not; the fog stops my judgement. It is normally sunny.

I shall find myself a husband –despite the fact I am technically still 'married' (in the realms) to a spirit in a tree. I swallow hard, tears stinging my eyes once more. Though I have vowed to move on, I would still like to cut down an entire army, should doing that release Kartik to a world where we could be together again. Unfortunately, there are no armies in my way. It is destiny, fate, whatever you wish to call it that stands in my way. Kartik's love separates us. Those cursed tears overwhelm my eyes and spill away. I will always wish for the impossible.

I quickly shower, and get ready for the day. The empty day, just like the others. I don my clothing; no longer bound into a corset – of clothing and of the mind – instead I just wear a blouse and a long skirt, then cover it with a cardigan. I don't bother look in the mirror – I'm in no mood to make an effort on my appearance. I walk toward the front door, only to see I have mail.

It's from Ann. Or rather, I can guess it is. It's a miniature poster for 'Romeo and Juliet', with the famous scene – Juliet on the balcony, musing aloud about Romeo. Ann is Juliet, but I don't know who portrays Romeo. Her ordinary, mousy brown haired looks aren't ordinary now. Her nose isn't running any longer, and her eyes sparkled in a happy glow; one you wouldn't be able to notice unless you knew her. A self-fulfilled sparkle. I take my cardigan off, no longer interested in whatever might be outside in the fog. The play is showing in London in a theatre near Spence. Inside the envelope there was a ticket to see; she'd bought me it. Should I go? I'm guessing Felicity would be invited too, and I haven't seen either of them for so long. Oh Ann, I can't possibly go. I've just got here. I shouldn't. Not that I don't miss them, but it would show me to be foolish and weak, needing old company once again, though I had sought difference.

Though I feel like I shall not go, another glance out the window makes my decision. India. Spence. London. America. I would go. Maybe a visit would release me from this strange, lonely new life. Though the trip would be long, and difficult...

I wouldn't talk myself out of this. Instead of pondering the positives and negatives, I went to get my things together. Money wasn't a problem for me; Tom's work got me a lot, the 'prestigious scientist' left him plenty to send me. I have nothing else to do, and if I do; I've forgotten. I can't say why exactly I have packed everything I own. It may be just a longing, or even an unknown premonition, but maybe I'm going in hope of staying.

An: First time writing in the Gemma Doyle series, it's currently my favourite series :)

I don't know if I did well or not, and I know this category won't be as popular as others, so I might not get many reviews, but if you read, feel free to tell me what you think. I love the books, but I couldn't stand feeling like it just ended with a tree Kartik & a depressed Gemma going to America XD I mean, what is with the tree? :P No offence to Libba Bray, i still think they're fantabulous :)
Thank you for readingg ~x*

Blonde Gingernut. xDD