"Once upon a time, there was a boy who was born a prince. He lived in a huge castle—"

"How many rooms are there in the castle?" Patrick asked. "Hundreds?"

"No, thousands!" Beatrice said before Helena could answer. "Thousand is bigger than hundred!"

"That's right," Helena said. "Someone learned their numbers well."

Beatrice beamed at the compliment.

"Is it bigger than the Buckingham Palace?" it was Patrick again.

"Possibly."

Patrick was about to ask another question but Christina shushed him.

"Patrick, let Helena tell the story," Myka said.

"No more questions?" Helena asked, just to be sure that there won't be any more interruptions.

Beatrice was about to open her mouth but Myka gave her a warning look.

"May I continue the story?"

Everyone nodded except Mary.

"So this boy, because he was a prince, he could get anything he wanted. He only had to ask and it will be brought to him within a day."

"Anything?" this time it was Matty. He was the youngest so no one said anything.

"Yes."

"Even a tiger?" he asked then looked at Myka. "Because mummy always say tigers are too dangerous to be a pet."

"Of course," Helena said. "But he had to ask for an animal trainer first.

Seeing that Matty was allowed to ask questions, Patrick jumped at the opportunity. "How about a dancing clown?"

Helena chuckled. "Why not?"

"A mountain of sweets?" Beatrice asked.

Christina was glaring at them. She wasn't used to her story time being constantly interrupted.

"Especially a mountain of sweets," Helena told them.

It encouraged them to enquire about one bizarre wish after another. Even shy Sally contributed. The only two who weren't affected by all the excitement were Christina and Mary. Helena knew why Christina was unhappy but she had no idea what the problem was with Mary. The twelve year old hadn't cracked a smile since Helena met her.

"Children," Myka said sternly. It brought silence to the room again to Christina's relief.

"But there was one thing that no one could ever give him and because his father, the king didn't want him to be distracted from his duties as the future ruler of the country, no one wanted to."

"What is it?" Beatrice asked but then immediately covered her mouth and squeaked an apology.

"An adventure," Helena replied. "You see, he once asked for a friend who knew everything about the world. So they brought him a young man who spent his life as a servant for the country's army. The king was always looking for new territories to conquer. So he had his army search high and low for weak and vulnerable countries to invade."

"That's not very nice of him," Beatrice commented.

"Indeed. But because of that, the young man had seen every inch of the world. He told the boy stories about a country where everyone was blue, a rainbow coloured forest, an ocean where there was no fish but only seahorses and the most beautiful woman in the world. After a few days of listening to the stories, the boy asked to see the world. He waited patiently the whole day but no one gave it to him. In fact, the next day, the young man was replaced by a bitter old man who told stories about beautiful women who cheat, friendly men who turned out to be liars and pesky little leeches that suck your blood dry. It's a nasty world out there, boy, he said. You better stay inside. I would do just about anything to live in a palace like this."

"Did it scare him?" Patrick asked, a concerned look on his face.

"A little bit but his curiosity was stronger. Every day, he would climb the tallest tower in the castle and look towards a forest where you can find every magical creature there was."

"Even dragons?" it was Matty. The boy was awfully interested in menacing animals it seemed.

Christina nudged Myka. Myka just shook her head, looking defeated.

"Yes, even dragons, dear," Helena said, giving her daughter an apologetic look. Myka whispered something to Christina which made her smile. Helena felt something warm settling in her gut. "One day," Helena continued. "He couldn't contain his curiosity any longer so he packed some clothes, enough food to last a day and a small bottle of black sand the young man gave him and escaped to the forest. It was wonderful and exciting. He met a talking bug who was a tortured poet. He saw a baby duck hatch for the first time in his life and he found a stream that could give you any drink you wanted."

No matter how many times Christina had heard the story, the Forest of Endless Wonder had never ceased to amaze her. It also helped that Helena changed the 'wonders' the boy saw in the forest every time she told the story. When Christina was smart enough to question everything she was told, she asked Helena about it. It was a good thing that she had thought up a name for the forest by then. Her explanation hinged quite heavily on it.

"It is called the Forest of Endless Wonder," she told Christina. "What the boy saw in one day could never be explained in perhaps a decade." She had joked that Christina would have to wait another eight years to find out everything the boy saw in the forest but Christina took it seriously. Since then, she would always insist on listening to the story during story time.

Helena started telling the story to Christina when she was two. The inspiration for it came out of nowhere. As she told Myka, her stories were always true in some ways. But this story was pure fiction. She woke up one morning and it was there, sitting comfortably in her mind like a memory.

She suspected it had something to do with that time when she was in a coma for a week. She still remembered how it felt when she woke up. It was a mixture of bliss and sorrow. It was as if she had just experienced something really amazing and then it was gone so abruptly.

The story wasn't the most original concept she had ever thought of. There was a boy who was unhappy about the circumstances he was born into so he escaped to seek happiness and ended up lost in the very place he thought could bring him joy. He tried to find his way home but failed miserably. And when it got dark and cold with all his hopes as lost as he was, he wept like a little girl. That was when a shining light in the form of a human-giant hybrid appeared to him.

They couldn't be more different in all the superficial ways. That was why they fought constantly. But they were also similar in all the ways that matter. That was why no matter how annoyed they were, they never thought of leaving each other.

"Their encounter with the human-giant's giant family made the boy realise how similar they were. They both didn't belong," Helena noticed how quiet it had gotten. The children were no longer asking questions after every five sentences. "She was born an outsider. Her human family feared her and her giant family despised her. He, on the other hand, was born on a pedestal, unreachable to anyone."

Helena observed her audience. Most of them were struggling to keep their eyes open. That had been the purpose. Matty was yawning when they arrived at her house. But Patrick puffed out his chest and claimed that he was too big for a nap which made everyone else refused to take a nap as well.

"So all their lives, they dreamt of a better place where everyone was different but treated each other equally."

Her first victim fell.

"But they were both trapped in their respective cages."

Then, her second.

She started lowering her voice and adopted a soothing tone. "It wasn't a secret that it only took courage to free themselves."

Her third victim landed on Myka's lap.

"But fear can be overpowering and sometimes, you just need someone to hold your hand."

The fourth followed.

"Who better to do that than someone who understood you more than anyone else in the world?"

And the fifth.

"They promised each other an adventure of a lifetime."

Her sixth victim was a little more stubborn than the others.

"That was when they realised that they belonged," finally, her sixth victim relented and fell into deep slumber, "as long as they had each other."

Helena looked adoringly at her handiwork. She especially loved how her oldest victim was snoring lightly. She looked so relaxed as opposed to how she was when awake, always so tense. "How did you find it?" she asked the only other person who was still awake besides her.

"Nothing I haven't heard before," said Mary.

…

It had been Myka's idea for her to tell a story to the children. Christina suggested the story. And all the others agreed. Except Mary.

Mary hadn't said a word. She didn't nod or shake her head. She didn't jump up and down in anticipation or displayed any signs of displeasure at the idea. She had the same stoic look from the moment Helena greeted her and her siblings until the story ended.

So Helena was quite glad when she started criticising the story.

"It's also ridiculous," Mary added. "Why would a wealthy prince leave everything he had for a harder life? He sounds like an ungrateful brat to me. And why would a fierce creature like a human-giant want to befriend a weak, whiny boy?"

"You have a point there," Helena would agree once in a while just to get her to go on.

"And that ending."

"What about the ending?" Helena asked.

"I don't think it's the ending."

Mary was a smart girl. She was indeed correct. The ending was not a happy one. Helena had been telling Christina an unfinished story for the past four years. She couldn't bear to break her daughter's heart.

"Why do you think that?" She was curious now. Even Charles who was her harshest critic hadn't noticed how she exaggerated the attack of the giants to the point of absurdity (and it was a giant attack) just so she had a climax that would lead into a nice resolution. But in Charles' defence, he thought it was a silly story made up only for Christina. He wasn't expected to dissect everything about it like he usually did for all her other stories.

"It didn't sound like they were going to have a happily ever after," Mary explained. "The boy obviously wanted to see the world more than anything but he kept mentioning his obligation towards his people and not in resentment. Actually, he seemed like he genuinely loved his people and couldn't bear the thought of abandoning them. And then, there was the small bottle of black sand."

"What about the black sand?" Helena asked seemingly clueless to Mary's implication.

"I think it means something."

"Do you read a lot?"

"Are you trying to change the subject?" Mary asked, looking at Helena suspiciously.

"Yes," Helena laughed. "But I also genuinely want to know if you're a reader."

Mary looked around to make sure everyone was really asleep. "Can you keep a secret?" she whispered.

Helena quirked an eyebrow but nodded anyway.

Mary shook her head. "I need you to say yes."

"Yes," said Helena.

Mary inhaled deeply. "Sometimes, I borrow Mr Potter's books."

"You mean you steal them," Helena said. Mr Potter was the owner of the bookstore close to the clock shop where Elizabeth worked.

"No, I borrow them," Mary said but her cheeks were red. "I borrow one book every Tuesday and return it the next Tuesday."

"It's still stealing if you didn't ask for the owner's permission."

"I tried asking," Mary said, a glint of anger in her eyes. "He said I shouldn't waste my time reading and I should focus on making myself pretty instead."

"That ba—" Helena stopped herself. She promised no cursing in front of children. "I can definitely see how he deserved that but being a mother and an adult," she sighed. It made Mary giggle. "I'm not supposed to condone stealing. So what I'm going to do is give you an alternative."

Like Mary, Helena wasn't born in a wealthy family. She couldn't afford books so she would spend hours in a library near her childhood home for her literary needs. By a stroke of luck and a persistent brother named Charles, one of her stories was published. It wasn't long before the publisher started to demand more from her and the money started pouring in. It hardly made her rich but she had some extra money to buy books for herself. She couldn't be happier.

But one day, she woke up to find her floor flooded with books. She couldn't walk in her room without stepping on one of them. Suffice to say, it wasn't one of her good days. When she had calmed down enough, Charles told her he put away enough money to buy them a house.

At first, she yelled at Charles for hiding her own money from her and not telling her about his plans sooner because she still had that little bit of anger. But when she was done, she told him that one, Christina must like the house (even though she was only three at the time) and two, it must have a room especially for her books.

"It can't compete with a real library but—"

Mary was already inspecting each shelve with a certain twinkle in her eyes. Helena snapped her fingers trying to get the girl's attention but she was oblivious to anything other than the books.

"Well, I'll be in the living room if you need anything. Mary," Helena called when she didn't respond. "Mary," she called again. "Did you hear me?"

Mary just nodded absently.

…

When Helena told Myka about the children, 'her' children, she panicked.

"What am I going to do with five kids who are not mine?" she asked the same question over and over again using a variety of colourful words even Helena deemed quite inappropriate. "I came here to spend time with you," she had said unintentionally and also unknowingly, Helena guessed, from the way she was spewing out a hundred words per second.

Helena let her vent for a while and then held her shoulders steady. It shut her up immediately.

"We'll do it together," Helena said. "And with some help from Charles and Mrs Brown, it wouldn't be too hard."

It was quite entertaining seeing Myka so unsettled. She was young and can accept the fact that it also meant feeling foolish at times. Mistakes have their own wonders. It could shape a person or tear them down and she couldn't bear the thought of being deprived of that privilege. But being fooled twice in a day? That was unacceptable.

So when Myka lost her cool, it amused her. She struggled to keep herself from smiling as Myka listed a thousand reasons why she shouldn't be responsible for one child let alone five of them.

"How much time do you have left?" Helena asked. "Fifteen hours? Sixteen?"

Myka only nodded.

"It'll be over before you know it," Helena smiled, hoping it would ease Myka's anxiety.

But it seemed to have an opposite effect. Myka's eyes shifted downwards, avoiding her gaze. Her right hand reached the back of her neck.

"I'm not their mother," Myka said, her eyes now on the children. They were chasing some stranger's dog. "But I can't tell them that. What if I do something that scars them for life?"

Helena looked at her incredulously.

"Hey, you don't know me," Myka reminded her. It hurt for some reason.

"It's hardly fair, don't you think? You seem to know a lot about me."

"Not now, Helena," Myka said, her tone almost sounded like she was begging. She took a step back, releasing herself from Helena's hold.

Helena sighed. She decided to let it go for the moment. The dog owner kept glancing at them. He obviously no longer thought that it was cute for his dog to be chased by some random children in the park.

"Look," she said. "Parents ruin their children no matter what their intentions are. I believe I've done a number on Christina already." Myka's lips curled up slightly. "What you might do won't be any worse than what their real mother did or will do. All you or, as a matter of fact, any of us can do is try to make the time you have with them as pleasant as possible."

Of course she didn't actually believe that. It was something to be mulled over when past regrets outnumber one's age. In fact, the advice was given to her by a gentleman who was at that point in his life. The only reason she told it to Myka was because it managed to sooth her when she was six months pregnant with Christina. She hoped it had the same effect on Myka.

It seemed to work. Myka was kind and attentive to the children. She listened to them ramble on about their day patiently. She praised them when they told her they did something that was otherwise unimpressive by an adult's standards. She was as good as a fake mother can be.

It didn't come naturally. She was awkward at first. When she didn't know how to respond to them, she would mechanically pat them three times. But it wasn't long before Myka warmed up to them. And before she knew it, Myka was pleading with the children for her to tell them the story about the lost prince and the lonely giant.

She hadn't realised that she was staring at Myka until Myka stirred and stretched as she slowly awoke from her afternoon nap. Even then, Helena couldn't look away. For a second, she swore she saw a flash of green in Myka's eyes as they were set on her. It must have been her imagination as it was gone as soon as she blinked.

"Hey, you," Myka said sleepily. "C'mere."

Helena complied without a second thought.

Myka leaned her head on Helena's shoulder. "I've missed you. You don't come as often anymore."

Her heart was beating wildly again.

"Claudia said the time machine is almost ready. I'm trying to convince Artie that the telescope is important enough to warrant time travel. He's being stubborn so I set up some fake pings," Myka giggled suddenly. "I can't believe you used to call them curiosities. It's very… English."

"You know you shouldn't do that," Helena said. She thought if she responded like they were having a normal conversation, Myka would go on and she would know more.

"Call pings curiosities? Yes you shouldn't," Myka nuzzled against her neck. "It's too long."

"No, I mean set up fake—" she dreaded using the term but it was necessary, "—pings."

Helena felt something wet touch her neck.

"You were the one who taught me that it's okay to break rules sometimes. Do you remember that?" Helena didn't dare to move for fear of waking Myka from this sleepy haze. She was about to find out how Myka knew her. "It was the best day—"

Myka didn't finish her thought.

"Myka," she called.

Myka didn't answer.

She slowly turned her head. Myka was asleep again. She gently wiped the single tear that was still taking its time trickling down Myka's cheek.

Helena wondered what she did to make it fall.