In the dream, I'm standing in an enormous room, all tinted by violet light. I should feel pain—I know I felt it before, even if that part of the memory is blurry and distant now. But I can't feel anything.

There are four other light beams. One is empty. The girl in the burgundy robe all but charges at it, only to be knocked to the ground.

She turns to me. Her eyes are luminous, almost glowing, and when she speaks her voice echoes.

"Humanity will fall before its own choices. He would have been the first to try to save it."

I lift a hand in front of my face. It's covered in dried blood. No.

"This isn't how it happened," I whisper. "Aurora, this isn't what happened!"

"If the life of a friend means so little to you," Aurora booms, "why should you care for the fate of the world?"

I didn't. I'm dreaming. I have to be. I didn't do anything.

Did I? I thought the blood had dried, but now it seems to be dripping off my fingers. "No. Please, no…"

Aurora lifts her hands, and the light grows so bright it blinds me. "This is what you have become, Emmy Altava. This is what you chose."

A tone sounds through the entire room. "Kurain Village. Next stop."


What?

I sit up straighter, gasping. "Estimated arrival time, seven minutes," the train's loudspeaker continues.

I was dreaming, damn it.

I must have been out for most of the train ride. The view from the window has changed from flat ground and smog to snow and tree-covered mountains. Snow… I haven't seen snow since the winter I spent in Peru, and before that, not since London.

My camera!

…is in my lap, right where it was when I nodded off. I turn the dials. I've always found it comforting to play with them but best I get them properly reset before the train arrives.

It doesn't take long. Kurain is the most Japanese-looking town I've ever seen, except in Japan. I step onto the platform, slinging my rucksack over my shoulders. The chill bites through my damp shirt. I just had to have a nightmare on the way here, didn't I? I zip up my jacket.

"Gracious, Takara, is that you?!"

My head whips around: an old woman in pale blue robes is hobbling full-speed in my direction. Harmless, but I should have seen her coming. Sloppy, Emmeline. Never stop watching! That's what Uncle Leon would have said.

The woman fingers the stone charm around her neck with one gnarled hand, and plucks a wayward curl from my braid with the other. "Why, what have you done with your hair?"

"Don't touch me!" I step back, out of her reach.

The woman glares. "Think you're too good for your old aunt now, do you? You and that fellow of yours—"

"Mystic Hoshi!"

A girl of about thirteen scurries onto the platform, distracting the old woman from her scrutiny of my hair. She's dressed in the same style of robe, but hers is shorter, and pink. "Mystic Hoshi," the girl says, "you're getting confused again. Mystic Takara died a long time ago, remember?"

"Died? Oh no, that can't be right. Just look at her, Morgan!"

"I'm Pearl, Mystic Hoshi." The girl pales a few shades. "Mystic M-Morgan is dead now, too." She turns to me. "Please forgive Mystic Hoshi, honorable visitor. She is very old and her mind sometimes wanders." She folds her hands in a prayer position and makes a small bow. "Welcome to Kurain Village," she recites. "My name is Pearl Fey—"

"Mrow!" A striped orange cat appears at the girl's feet.

"—and this is Shoe!" Pearl adds, her face splitting into a grin. She leans down to scratch Shoe between the ears, looking her proper age for a minute instead of trying to be all adult. I almost laugh, but I can't.

"You look very tired, honorable visitor. Are you all right? May I be of service to you?"

Focus, damn it! "I'm fine," I say. "I'm here to interview…" I check my notes. "The channeling master?"

Her face lights up. "Oh! You want Mystic Maya! This way, please." She takes Mystic Hoshi by the arm and leads us both down the hill. "Mystic Maya! Mystic Maaaaaaaaaya!"

A young woman with beads in her hair pops out of the largest of the houses. "Right here, Pearly! What's going o—oh!" She looks me over with enormous brown eyes and suddenly, I'm aware of every stray hair. So this is the channeling master. I wasn't expecting her to be so young.

"Mystic Maya, this is the reporter we were talking about," Pearl announces. "Miss—um—"

"Em Altava," I manage. "World Times."

The channeling master shakes my hand. She's dressed in a Steel Samurai t-shirt and no jacket, but doesn't seem to notice the cold. "Maya Fey, Kurain channeling master," she tells me. "I hope you're not too let down by the outfit. I just came back from a month of waterfall training and all my spirit medium robes are covered in ice. Now I'm scandalizing the elders." Maya turns, grinning. Black hair cascades over her shoulders as she leads me into the enormous front room. "This way. You should have let us know you were coming today! I could have worn my ceremonial outfit. It's something, but I'd have to borrow it back from Global Studios. They're modeling a new Pink Princess costume on it! The elders are pretty scandalized about that, too. Hey, do you like burgers?"

"Yeah—love them." I wrap my arms tighter around my chest. I'm way too cold to be hungry, but I like to think I remember some social graces.

"Pearly," Maya says, "take Mystic Hoshi home and then…" She whispers something in the younger girl's ear.

Pearl immediately bows. "Yes, Mystic Maya!"

"Pearly's my cousin," Maya explains, "and next in line for the title of master." Her face grows solemn as she watches Pearl go; then the smile returns, and the mischievous glint in her eye. "So Em, what would you like to know?"

I pull out my notebook. I'm still a reporter, and I have a job to do.


Three hours later, I've learned more about Kurain than I ever wanted to know. At least one person in every generation of the Fey clan seems to have been murdered, and my nightmare swims up before my eyes with the name of every new victim. Maya starts giving me odd looks. I decide it's better to just take pictures.

At last we loop back to a winding courtyard and Maya starts grilling burgers. She's launching into a tale about a cultural center and steadier electricity when the door bangs. Pearl skids in from the meditation room, the orange cat on her heels.

"Mystic Maya!" she calls down from the walkway. "He's here!"

Maya straightens in an instant. "Well, bring him in, Pearly!"

Pearl streaks out the door again.

"What was that about?" I ask. More to the point: he? Every person I've seen here has been female.

Maya smiles, the smile of someone who's solved a riddle but isn't quite ready to reveal the secret. I'd know it anywhere. Something twists inside my chest.

The door bangs again.

"Maya!" In rushes a teenaged boy whose gangling limbs belie the baritone voice. He's wearing a half-buttoned lab coat over a deep blue sweater and he's completely out of breath. For a few seconds he leans on the railing, gasping. "I came as quick as I could. Did—did I make it?"

Maya's smile broadens. She nods in my direction. The boy shoves his thin round glasses higher on his nose. He looks me over, wide-eyed, and there's something about the set of his mouth…

I jump up so fast I almost knock over my chair.

"Luke?!"