'Ello everyone! You know what today is? The day Harry Potter and the Deathy Hallows: Part Two comes out! :DD It also just happens to be my two year anniversary on FFN. Yippy yay and whatnot. ;)

I want to sincerely thank each and every one of you who voted for Through the Looking Glass. Because of your generous support, Mama brought home a Verita! I promise to never address myself as Mama again. XD Seriously though, thank you so much.

Oh, and if you find yourself in need of a refresher on Through the Looking Glass, but don't want to reread the entire thing, you can go to my website and look at the Chapter Overviews. It's pretty handy. :D

Apollo is awesome - You would be correct in your association of the Anima Comedentis = Dementors from HP. It was my shoutout to the bombtastic book series!

Thanks Kanae Valentine for beta-ing. ^_^

Enjoy~

"The time has come, my family," a loud, booming voice said. Thunder shook the walls at the sound and a streak of lighting flashed outside the window. A cool draft of air swept through the room. My body felt heavy; I couldn't lift my arms or turn my head. In fact, I couldn't even move my eyes from the area they were focused on. That fact didn't seem to pose much of a problem as I gazed upon what was in front of me. A glowing orb—a luminescent ball of ever changing colors of sand—hovered in the middle of the room, casting a nearly nonexistent light upon the faces gazing down at it. The polychromatic sphere drifted around slowly, peacefully, yet, something about it made me uneasy.

I felt my hand tighten around a shaft. Unaware of my actions, my eyes fell upon a pale blue three pronged pitch fork in my hand—my Trident. "Brother," a deep voice began, seemingly coming from myself. "This is very dangerous. Are you sure—"

"It must be done," a voice belonging to a female said. Her voice was cold, logical. "It has already been kept together for too long. The assumed damage would be much higher should we leave it intact." My head snapped in the direction of the voice. A pale woman with raven black hair stood across from me. Her eyes were startling grey. An owl sat atop her shoulder.

"She is right," the woman standing beside me whispered. Her tanned hands were clutching a bow, turning her knuckles white. A long, auburn braid fell down her back. In truth, she wasn't a woman at all—she didn't look a day over thirteen. "We have found what we seek, and we must make haste. My brother has had many premonitions about the future, all of which inevitably end the same way." She paused, allowing a voice similar to hers, though deeper, more masculine, to continue.

"Darkness. All I see is darkness," the man next to the girl muttered. He had the same deeply tanned skin, though his hair was golden blonde, his eyes like honey. He too, clutched a bow tightly in his hand. The bow looked extremely familiar—it looked like Alexa's.

"We've hardly had a moment's rest since the demise of our father," a woman with wheat colored hair moaned, placing a hand on her forehead. Her eyes seemed to constantly change colors—shifting from golden, to brown, to green—and reminded me of Sarah's. "Surely this doesn't require our attention so soon—"

"Sister," the same, booming voice from earlier began. It was coming from the man to the other side of me. The first thing I noticed was his eyes—shockingly blue. A pain went through my chest at the sight—Zac, was all my shattered heart could think of. He had dark, salt and pepper hair and a full beard. He held a bronze shaft of lightning at his side. "Our father had every intention of destroying our world with the very object that hovers in front of you. We must destroy this. We all must destroy this."

Around the omniscient glow of the sands, the heads of ten individuals slowly nodded their heads. I found myself joining in with affirmation, unable to control my actions.

"I fear we will not be able to bring upon absolute destruction of the sands," the black haired woman said, her gaze grim. The way she held herself—Des had the same cold, proud look about her.

"What do you mean? Of course we can destroy this! Nothing can withstand the power of the Twelve Olym—" a muscular man standing beside the owl lady started to say, before being cut off. His eyes reminded me of Chad's—the same sort of fire seemed to burn within.

"Even we have our limits, brother," the dark haired woman whispered, a smirk of irony on her face.

"And what do you suggest we do?" a blonde headed man asked. He had the build of a jogger, with sandy blonde hair and mischievous eyes. He gripped a weapon I recognized immediately—Donnie's Cadeceus. It was his alright—right down to the two snakes slithering around the shaft.

"We're going to have to split it apart, right?" a beautiful, blonde haired woman said. She looked pretty, like it was effortless—she had a natural glow, one that reminded me of Nat. Eleven heads, mine included, turned to face the young lady, surprised expressions on their faces. She frowned. "Is that not what we're doing?"

The grey eyed woman let a laugh escape her lips, though her face bore no sign of humor. "That is exactly what we are doing, Aphrodite. Thank you." She then turned her attention to the bearded man—the one who's eyes reminded me of Zac. "Father, on your mark, we must combine our powers, straight to the sands. The combination of our powers should separate the sands. We must act quickly, though. I feel the sands are growing restless."

He nodded and raised the lightning bolt into the air. I felt my arm slowly raise the Trident into the air alongside his. One by one around the circle, each of the ten others raised their weapons. Power arched through the air as it began to light up. "Channel your energy," he said firmly. "Allow it to flow. And then—" He closed his eyes and leaned his head back; I felt myself do the same thing. The power coursed through my body—I commanded the power to my Trident. Suddenly, he yelled, "NOW!" The power shot out of the Trident, a streak of blue light, straight towards the orb of sand, joining eleven other trails of power, each a distinct color. The room lit up in a blinding light and—

My eyes snapped open, and I quickly closed them—the sights and sounds of the two views I could now see—thanks Tarrant— overwhelming me. "Sweet mother Rhea," I muttered, raising my hands to my face. Where's my eye patch? I wondered, feeling the bare area over my eye, though I don't suppose it's really my eye…

"I feel like I've been hit by a truck," I said loudly. Not like it mattered, there was no one to hear me. I slowly opened my eye, being careful not to open the eye that wasn't mine. I was staring up at a ceiling—a ceiling I knew well—the ceiling in my room. That's always a good sign. I slowly sat up, keeping my eye shut until the wave of nausea washed over me. The effort was surprisingly easy—easier than it should have been with the cast on my upper body. I looked down at my midsection; I was wearing a teal tee shirt—teal, as in, not grey. A picture of a cartoon whale was below the words Katrina and the Waves. I had never worn anything but grey my entire life, as it was forbidden by The Rules. The Rules stated that society as a whole should blend in. By doing this, we were all equal, and not bound by social status. I cursed under my breath. They really did brainwash us.

There was no way my cast was hidden underneath the shirt. But why did I not have it on? I gently pressed on my ribs. "Gah!" Okay, so they were still sore, but not unbearable. I laid a hand on my chest. I didn't dare press down; I only wanted to feel my heartbeat.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Without warning, it skipped a beat, then beat double the speed for a moment, before regaining the same natural speed once again. Great, irregular heartbeats. Pair that with my difficulty breathing sometimes and the fact that I had a chest injury… lovely. I tried to think back to the health class I had taken last year, and a list of symptoms I had to watch for. As long as I didn't start coughing up blood, I should be fine. At least, I think.

What time is it? I turned my head towards the window in my room. Even though the curtain was down, sunlight still shone through, casting eerie shadows across everything in the room. It was probably early morning, if I had to guess. The little fountain I still had to investigate was gurgling peacefully to itself. Sitting next to it was someone I had not expected to see for a long time.

"Z—Zac?" I managed to choke. Okay, that settles it. I'm dead. There's no way Zac could possibly be here right now. That meant he was dead, too. Oh, I hope he died peacefully. I must have been killed by that Anima Comedentis. Huh, it didn't hurt—dying.

Zac giggled—I mean, he really giggled. It was a high pitched sort of sound I had never, ever heard him use before. His maroon eyes crinkled.

Wait… maroon?

"Uh, what's going—" I started to say before I trailed off. Zac started to morph—his face became longer, his nose more pointy. His hair lengthened and darkened, until it was black. A lip and eyebrow piercing popped up on his face. Suddenly, I wasn't looking at Zac—I was looking at James. Only, it wasn't James—the eyes were still maroon.

"What the he—"

James began to morph, too. His face began to round, his lips plumping a bit. His hair lengthened and bangs grew down nearly past his eyes. Before I knew it, James wasn't James anymore. James wasn't even a he anymore.

A pale skinned girl with long, jet black hair sat in front of me, a small smirk on her face. She wore an oversized aviator's jacket, leather fingerless gloves—they reminded me of Jezabelle's—some black jeans, and a pair of ratty high top sneakers that looked like the kind James and I had. A silver locket with a butterfly hung around her neck. Her maroon eyes were lined darkly with kohl. I eyed her apprehensively.

"Hello," she said, crossing her arms. "Your eye patch is on the bedside table."

I raised an eyebrow and looked at the driftwood table beside my bed. Sure enough, the black skull eye patch was lying there, as was my water powered lantern. I hesitantly reached forward and picked up the patch, sliding it over my head.

"Who are you?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "Your sweetest dreams, your worst nightmares… take your pick."

I frowned. "Uh, right. Who are you? And how did you morph into Zac and James? Is this what you really look like? Oh, and why are you in my room?"

"Whoa, whoa," she said, raising her hands into the air. "I didn't know we were playing twenty questions."

"Huh? I only asked you four questions. I don't—"

She shook her head. "Forget it. Just a joke, just a joke." There was a slight pause. "I'm—I'm Abby, Abby Night. Pleasure to finally meet you, Jemma." She held out a hand for me to shake. There was a white ring with a blackbird painted on it on one of her fingers. It seemed to put off its own little aura, like there was more than meets the eye with it. "Hey, I don't bite," she muttered, pulling her hand back.

I blushed. "Sorry."

She took the ring off and began twirling it in her hands. "S'okay. Next question?"

Abby is… unusual. She puts off this 'tough' vibe, but it's like she's hiding something—like she's scared. "How did you morph—"

"Oh, right, well, the god of dreams currently resides inside of me," she said coolly. I was about to ask who that was, when she answered. "Morpheus. He's one of the minor gods that's practically ignored by history."

I managed an, "oh."

"Next question."

"Uh, is this really what you look like? I mean, you're not just morphed into some other person, are you?"

A bitter expression crossed her face as she smashed her ring flat between her fingers. I thought about asking why she did that, when she pulled on the flattened ring. Suddenly, it lengthened, forming a dagger about ten inches long. It gleamed wickedly in the shadows.

My hand instinctively rose to my ear, should I need my Trident. The girl—Abby—started cleaning under her fingernails with the dagger. She sighed, then said, "This is me. At least, I think it is. I really don't remember what I look like anymore. I've been so many people—it's hard to remember who I am anymore."

"So you can just look like anyone you want to, anytime?"

She pursed her lips. "Yes and no."

"Well, which is it?"

"Next question."

I'm never going to get anything out of her. She's got a thick wall built up around her. "Why are you in my room? Why are you even here at all?"

"It was my turn to sit with you," she said, looking back down at her fingernails. "I kinda, um, snuck onto this bus whenever you guys took a pit stop. It was like fate brought me here, really. I mean, what are the odds of me getting on a bus full of others just like me? Finally, I'm not alon—" She stopped herself.

'Finally, I'm not alone?' Was that what she was about to say? Just how long had she been alone? I heard Abby clear her throat as she stood up. "I'm uh… I'd better go tell someone you're awake. You'll be okay by yourself, won't you? What am I saying? Of course you'll be okay by yourself. You're older than I am, surely you can manage—" She turned bright red. "I'm sorry, I'm just—I'm gonna go now." She hastily exited the room.

Now Jemma, whatcha gonna do? I asked myself, smirking. Stay in your room or go outside and find out some answers? I slid out of bed and shuffled to my dresser, where a mirror was. I hesitantly looked into it—at myself. The four ugly gashes ran down my face, disappearing underneath one side of the eye patch and reappearing at out the other. My short hair had been neatly combed, as if someone had kept up my appearance while I had been out of it. Probably Sarah, I thought. I looked down to see what pants I had on—yes, I know, it's quite sad that I didn't even have the slightest idea as to what pants I wore—a pair of faded denim knee shorts. All these colors would take some getting used to. My teal shirt brought out the color in my eyes—correction, eye. That would also take getting used to. I shook my head and sauntered out the door.

I was about to head towards the living area, whenever I spied a door slightly ajar down the hall. Of course, me being my curious self, had to investigate. A silver plate on the door read Sarah's Room. A quiet, weeping sounded from inside. There was no hesitation as I opened the door.

I was hit with an explosion of color—the walls were decorated with an array of painted flowers that seemed to pop out of the walls, almost as though they were alive. The floor looked suspiciously like real grass. The room contained the same furniture mine did, only it was made out of a wicker material, and had potted plants I had never seen before sitting everywhere. With each breath I inhaled, an intoxicating floral sent filled my lungs. I spied Sarah lying on her bed, curled up in ball, whimpering.

"Sarah?" I asked quietly, pulling the door closed behind me as I sat down on the bed beside her. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"I—train—blood…" A shiver ran through her body and a new round of sobbing started up.

"What train, sweetie?" I asked, rubbing her back. I could feel her muscles contraction as raking sobs escaped her throat. Her breaths were short and ragged; each time she tried to breathe in, she'd hiccup then cough. Her tanned face was contorted in pain and her eyes were squeezed shut.

"My—my… fault," she managed to spit out, after several tries. With each word, a frenzy of coughing started, followed by a round of rapid breaths.

What in world could have bothered Sarah this much? I asked myself. I had never seen her like this—she was in pain, both physically and mentally. "Calm down," I cooed. "I'm here. You're okay, it's okay." I pulled her hair back from her face and ran a hand through it. "Shh…"

"I… and Jeremy…" she whispered, burrowing her face deeper into her pillow.

Jeremy? Did she say Jeremy? Her little brother's name was Jeremy, I remembered. He had died in an accident before Sarah came to the "home". A… train accident. I never could get anything else out of Sarah about it, though. Every time I asked her about her brother, she'd completely shut down.

"What about Jeremy, honey?" I asked, rubbing her shoulder.

Another convulsing shiver ran through her body. "I—I tr-tri-tried," she stuttered. "But…" She violently shook her head, gritting her teeth. "Too… slow." She had her eyes shut tight, and was no doubt reliving something—something that she had kept hidden, deep within. "It came—it came…" Another set of raking sobs echoed through the room. "Out of… nowhere."

Her breathing quicken again as she pushed her head harder into her pillow. I could hear the fabric obstructing her airflow as her body heaved up and down. She kept murmuring into the pillow, too low for me to hear.

I slowly lay down beside her, putting my arm on her shoulder. Her breathing slowed. With each wheeze, she moaned, "Why?" Her thin frame shook violently again, but this time she tried to stop the sobs. Her whole body shook each time as she attempted to put an end to the cries.

She slowly raised her head from her pillow, shallow, shaky breathes leaving her mouth. Her hazel eyes opened and I thought she was looking at me, but rather—at a random point. Her freckled face was streaked in tears, her mouth held in a grimace. "And then…" she said, followed by a string of coughs. Her face twisted.

Suddenly, her breathing stabilized and her face dropped all emotion. Her eyes still held that glazed look as she whispered, "gone." Then her eyes closed and she didn't say another word.

I lay there, matching my breathing with her own, allowing the silence to carry on through the entire room, filling every nook and cranny with nothingness.

Finally, Sarah sighed, opening her eyes. She gave me a small smile. "I'm—I'm sorry you had to see me like that," she whispered.

I shook my head. "We're sisters, and sisters are supposed to comfort each other like this. It's primeval instinct."

"I just…" She took a deep breath, and for a moment, I thought she was about to start crying again. But she didn't. She held herself together. "I don't like feeling all weak and vulnerable."

"You don't have to feel that way, though," I said. "You can tell me anything. I'll listen. No judging or anything—I'll be a giant ear."

A small chuckled escaped her lips. "Jemma, the giant ear. Lovely mental image, thanks."

I winked, which was really no different than blinking, what with my one eye and all. "I winked, just so you know."

She cracked a grin, though it faltered.

"I am very serious, Sare—you talk, I'll listen."

She bit her lip. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

I rolled my eye, which again, probably didn't have the same effect. "Let's see what else I shouldn't believe yet I do—well, Poseidon is inside of my me, sharing my body, I can control water, I have an earring that turns into a Trident, I have a mirror that connects our world with a completely different one, we—"

"Okay, I get it," she said, placing her arm under her head the way I had mine. "But you don't want to hear my tale anyway."

"Why not?"

She shook her head. "It just—I just…"

"It's not that I wouldn't want to hear it—it's that you won't tell me," I said quietly, knowing full and well that my words would guilt her into whatever I wanted. When did I become so devious?

She sighed and rose up into a sitting position, crossing her legs. I also rose up and leaned against her headboard. Sarah opened her mouth to speak, and the words came out in a flurry. "I went to sleep like normal, and I had a weird dream. Only, it wasn't a dream. It was…" I smiled and her eyes widened. "I knew you didn't want to hear this!"

"Oh, no!" I quickly said. "Not that at all. It's just, I think I know what you're about to tell me, now that I think about it. You were in a place you felt most at home, right? And a person you held close to heart was there."

She frowned. "How did you—"

"The same thing happened to me," I whispered, shivering. I watched myself die, I silently added.

"Oh," she muttered. "Well, I was standing in the greenhouse my mom and dad used to work in. They grew food—all kinds of food there. You should have seen it—it was amazing. Rows and rows of plants… Kronos unfroze time all around the area so the plants could grow. It was always so warm and cozy…" She trailed off.

"Sounds nice," I said, trying to imagine a place where things grew. Sure, I'd seen pictures of the greenhouses at school, but nothing could compare to the real thing.

"It was," she said. "And my dad—he was there. Only, his voice was higher. I don't guess it was really my dad—"

"It was Demeter, right?"

"Yeah, Demeter. She talked to me for a little bit, and then the scene shifted. Suddenly, I was back there." She shivered.

"Sarah, if you don't really want to, you don't have—"

"Yes, I do. I need to tell someone. And you have a right to know." She recomposed herself, then continued. "She took us to place Jeremy and I used to play all the time. I don't know why we ever played there, though. It was dangerous."

"Somewhere near a train?" I guessed.

"Train tracks," she said. "Near a corner, of all places! We always played there—it wasn't very far from the greenhouse. My parents would work while we played." She paused and wiped a tear from her eye. "That day, we decided to play tag. We were being careless, and Jeremy twisted his ankle on a railroad tie. He fell and wouldn't get up. I didn't know what to do, so I decided I would go get my dad. He'd know how to get Jeremy up. He always did."

She swallowed and continued. "I started walking back to the greenhouse, and then I heard the train's whistle. I panicked. I started yelling at Jeremy to get up and move, but he wouldn't listen. Then the train came around the corner."

A hiccup escaped her lips and a tear ran down her face. "I—I tried to tackle Jeremy out of the way, but I wasn't that much bigger than him. I fell on top of him, and the train rolled over us."

She stopped, her eyes seeing something other than the flowery room. "Gods Jemma, there's some things in this world no one should have to see. And to have to relive them…"

I placed my hand on her back and rubbed it again.

"There's a reason why you've never seen above my knees," she whispered.

I frowned. I mean, we were roommates back at the "home". You're bound to catch one another without their pants. I know, it sounds awkward, but I'm serious. But I'd never seen Sarah without anything covering her legs.

Hesitantly, she rolled the dark wash capris she had on, one leg, then the other, up to her knees. She turned to look at me. Fear shown in her eyes. "Jemma, I've never shown anyone what I'm about to show you. You have to promise not to—"

"Sarah, I would never do anything you didn't want me to."

She took a deep breath, then rolled her pants up further—until they were up at the crease of her legs. I tried not to stare, but I couldn't help it. Starting at the crease of one leg, angling sharply down to the knee of her other leg, were two wide, reddish brownish gashes—like scabs, scabs that never healed. In a way, they reminded me of the scars on my face.

"That's where the train rolled over me," she said, running her fingers along the red lines. The skin seemed to indent around them.

"What do you mean, that's where the train rolled over me?"

"The way I landed on Jeremy, I pushed his arm over the rail, his head… His feet stuck out of the other end. I was lucky. I landed diagonal. My legs stuck out, but that was all."

"Oh gods, Sarah, I—"

"You know how they always say time seems to slow down when you're dying? Well, they're liars. It was all over so quick." She closed her eyes. "I didn't feel a thing. Just a quick pinch. It was dark under the train. Once it was gone, and the sun was back, I didn't realize what had happened. I sat up, and looked down at my legs, because I couldn't feel them." She shook her head. "It was so sick. I couldn't figure out why my legs were gone. I remember trying to look for them, because I was worried Mommy would be mad if I lost them. I mean, how could thoughts like that have been running through my mind, whenever my little brother was lying beside me—dead."

She shivered and ran a hand over her legs again. "I looked over at Jeremy and—" Her voice faltered. "I—I can't. Not this."

I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around Sarah. "How did you keep this bottled up for so long? Oh gods, Sarah. You're so brave. So brave…"

She pulled away from my hug, which really shocked me. Sarah never refused a hug.

"Brave enough to kill my own brother," she spat. "The ambulance came, Jeremy was pronounced dead at the scene, and they told my parents I wouldn't make it more than ten minutes. Demeter showed up, and my parents agreed to save me. She took over, and a medical miracle happened, according to the paramedics. My legs reattached themselves, the bleeding stopped, I was in better health than I was before the accident. All that was left were these scars, always there to remind me of what I did—how I killed Jeremy."

"It wasn't your fault," I whispered, taking her hand.

"How is it not? I pushed him, and yet I'm the one who's still here."

"You were trying to save him! You nearly died trying to save him. You're a hero, not a killer."

She shook her head. "You can think whatever you want. Scars always tell the truth. Scars are souvenirs you never lose."

I didn't know what to say. She had lived with this for three years, she had gone through something no one should ever have to go through, and she was ten when it happened. She was Donnie's age when she watched her brother die!

"Jemma, I—I think I need some time alone, to think, you know?" She motioned towards the door.

"Yeah, okay," I muttered, taking my cue to leave.

I was about to exit the door, when I heard her say, "Thanks Jemma. For being there. For always being there."

I smiled at the girl sitting on the bed, the girl who had seen so much, and yet hid it all from the world. On the outside, she looked as happy as could be, but on the inside, she was a broken little girl. Every time someone needed cheering up, she was there, and yet she had this buried. It was amazing how you could know a person for so long, yet know so little about them.

"It's what I'm here for. I'm Jemma the giant ear, remember?"

She smiled, and at that moment, I knew everything would be okay. She had that ability, to make everything okay again. I took one last look and stepped out, leaving Sarah to wallow in her thoughts.

I hope you liked this chapter. I wanted to add some depth to Sarah's character. I'm hoping to eventually reveal all of the character's pasts. Stay tuned!

In case you were a bit confused-Sarah's dream was like the one Jemma had (see Chapter 18). All the kidos will have them at some point, if they've not already.

The newest member of the gang, Abby, just happened to come from my lovely friend, TheMaskedWarrior. If you recall, back in Chapter 21, I had a bit of contest - 505th review gets a prize. That was the prize! She got to create a character to appear in the story. :D

I've been thinking: maybe I should ask you guys what length of chapter you prefer? Do you like the short chapters of the begining (1,500-2,000 words) or the long chapters I've been posting (3,500-5,500)? I like writing the longer chapters better, but I'd like to hear which you prefered reading.

I feel like I'm always asking you to review. I'm just so curious to hear what others think of my writing! After all, feedback is what authors thrive on. That, and cranberry limeaids from Sonic. *nods*