A/N - so I've finally updated! Sorry for the delay everyone, I know I haven't updated since November and I feel super bad about that, I've just been so busy recently with school so had to take a bunch of time away from writing. I should be better about updating more often now though so I'm hoping to finish this fic sometime within the next few months! to everyone still reading, thank you all SO much for your support and love and I truly am so grateful for all your comments.
Love you all and hope you enjoy this chapter :)
No Going Back (by Yuno)
"I spend all my time, waiting all night for you. What do you do?"
In a perfect world, Moira Gonzalez would've captured her mother's attention a long time ago.
It started with the stealing. A few things here and there, like taking wallets from the backs of peoples' pockets, or taking peoples' expensive-looking jewelry, which she always traded later for gold. Lots and lots of gold. Or really, as much gold as she could get her hands on, while trying to avoid drawing too much attention from her father. Not that that ever did anything. No matter what, it was always her father's attention she stole . . . that is, if she got caught. And it didn't help that he was a police officer. Not exactly the parent she was going for.
Stealing was pretty much the only thing she was good at. Not that Moira had many things to choose from. There'd been activities at school she could've excelled in, like science or math or English— that is, if they interested her enough to try. But nothing gave her the same thrill as stealing did. Maybe her love for it was inherited from her mother's side, her Moriarty side. The side that proved she was a criminal mastermind, or at least— descended from a criminal mastermind.
It must've been, or else she would've inherited her father's love for sticking by the law, never breaking a rule once. Now that? That sounded boring to Moira. Crimes got her money, it got her attention, and the best part of all? She never got caught. Well, almost never. Sometimes even Moira, a criminal expert, had her moments. Sometimes, she got caught and escaped.
Other times — usually during her dad's shift — there were the rare moments she got thrown into jail. But if she did, she never got charged by the police. Not for a single thing, because Moira had to say— she was just that skilled. Getting caught just meant an interrogation from her father, which was always more annoying than intimidating, and then they'd go home and laugh about it later. Well, more laughing from Moira's side, but that was beside the point. Easy peasy.
Now? Not so much.
Things had been different, ever since this weird white wave passed over her town. One second, she'd been immersed by it, and the next, she'd woken up in her bed. Just as she always had. But that drew the line at similarities. While before, Moira could sneak out of the house and find time to go rob banks or break laws or commit identity theft, she couldn't do any of that now.
Her dad must've been taking his job at the police force even more seriously, because he'd inserted cameras all over the house. And a security system, so if Moira so much as opened her window after her father went to sleep, the loudest alarm she'd ever heard would go off, so loud that the neighbors could probably hear it. After the first few times, she gave up. Trying not to get caught suddenly became a lot harder.
Not that she really should be sneaking out in the first place. Her father had made her promise not to commit any more crimes— probably more for his own sake than for her's. Because he didn't want his own daughter getting roped into jail. Blah, blah, blah. She'd heard it all before. But for as long as she could, she kept her promise. Kept it for months, then years. At least to his face. She tried not to skip school like she used to, even if she couldn't bear to be there any longer. Just for her dad.
But if there was a chance to steal something without getting caught (which usually didn't happen anyway, because Moira was that could), she'd take it. In a heartbeat. As it was, she always seemed to be itching to steal something, especially after finding those ten overflowing, mysterious bags of gold in her closet. After those had shown up, it was hard to keep them hidden from her dad.
Even harder to figure out why they were there, not that she cared to get into the details. Who would, when there was too much money to count hidden away in her closet? Moira loved money. That much gold should've been enough to satisfy her, enough to keep her grounded without feeling the need to commit more crimes. To uphold her promise to her dad. But as the thrill of getting the gold wore off, and Moira hadn't committed a crime in who-knew-how-long, she realized it was less about getting the gold— although she really enjoyed getting the gold.
It was a different reward she wanted. One that could only be achieved if Moira showed her natural talent: if she committed crimes. And that was getting her mother's attention. Moira had never known her mom. The most of what she heard about her came from her dad, but when he talked about her, it was as if marrying her had been a mistake, as if he didn't want her in Moira's life. But that wasn't what Moira wanted. Not at all.
She knew her mom was still out there somewhere, so she wouldn't stop stealing until her mother noticed. Also, because stealing was fun, and nothing made Moira want to stop, anyway. That was one reason why, when she started to care less and less about keeping her father's promise, she'd begun sneaking out more often than usual. Something that was now impossible, because Moira couldn't figure out how to bypass the new security system. It was the only security system she couldn't deactivate, and it was in her own home.
After failing to sneak out the first few times, Moira had decided on a new approach. She'd either do some light shoplifting in the morning— something that was easy to do in the daytime, or she'd wait until it got dark if she was, for example, robbing a bank. It was something she could do right after school, so trying to sneak out wouldn't be a problem when she was already outside.
And when she got home? She'd say she was working on a project with her friends, or was forced to stay late at school. Something like that. Being an expert liar and all, Moira had no trouble coming up with a believable story to keep her dad's trust. She'd also packed her tools in her backpack, so it wasn't like she needed to run back home or anything. Just a few hours of robbing — probably less — and her dad would never find out.
But sure enough, as she prepared to do just that, she spotted a single police car sliding up next to the bank. Eyes widening, Moira quickly stepped into an alley, flattening herself against the side of the building. In normal heists, she'd have no trouble hiding from the police. The dark helped. And she was confident that she wouldn't get caught here. Moira Gonzalez only was seen when she wanted to be seen.
Until now.
Moira had already prepared to jump through the window, which she'd pried open in only a few seconds. Sometimes, places were way too easy to break into. She'd felt an enormous thrill go through her, excited to finally steal something big— and the police car being here suddenly made this feel a lot less fun. She could probably sneak inside now without grabbing the policeman's attention, but what if they came inside the bank?
Moira rubbed her temples. What was it doing here, anyway? The last few banks she'd robbed, there hadn't been anyone in the parking lot, let alone a police car nearby. Aside from the Baker Street School for Irregular Children — probably the most heavily-guarded place in her town — everywhere else was relatively easy to steal from. And if the police showed up, it was after Moira had stolen something. Not the other way around.
Then again, this was one police car. It wasn't like there were three or even four waiting outside, which would be a different story. They probably weren't even interested in going inside the bank, Moira told herself. Before she could think about backing out, because she was definitely not backing out. The minutes passed, and the car still refused to move. It just sat there, the engine still running and the car's headlights shining in her direction.
To Moira's annoyance, it didn't look like they'd be driving away anytime soon. But since they hadn't gotten out of their car either, they clearly hadn't seen Moira or felt any need to go inside the bank. So she should be clear. Even with the police lurking nearby, she wasn't just not going to steal something. Besides, she was an expert at not getting caught. She'd be fine!
She glanced at the open window, then back at the car. Seizing her chance, Moira drew away from the brick wall, just enough to allow herself to climb on top of a dumpster, which conveniently sat right underneath the window. Moira went through her movements slowly, lightly, which definitely paid off, because her feet made no noise. So far, so good.
Reaching up, she gripped the bottom of the window, began to hoist herself up, and—
"Moira!"
Uh-oh. She recognized that voice. While it still tended to hold an uptightness to it at home — an almost wariness — it sounded ten times more uptight now. The voice belonged to a police officer that resembled Moira, from her brown skin to her dark hair. But other than that, they couldn't be more different. Although Moira had never known her mom, she liked to think that they were more alike in personality, despite what her dad said about her.
If it was the other way around, she wouldn't even be here right now. She wouldn't be about to rob a bank, because committing crimes were the only thing that excited her most of the time. If she were more like her dad, she wouldn't be about to rob a bank. She'd probably be addicted to rules or something, which just gave her a headache to think about.
At first, Moira didn't move. With the darkness surrounding her and the headlights practically burning her eyes, she couldn't fully see the police officer's face as he stepped out of the car. But she didn't have to. She already knew who it was. Dad. Why was he here? And worse, how had he known she'd be here? Was this completely a coincidence, or had he followed her from school? She'd been extra careful coming here, making sure no one saw. There was no way he could've followed her without Moira knowing.
. . . Right?
The shock of him being here wore off, just enough for annoyance to seep in and replace it. No, she wasn't letting him stop her. Not again. She was going to rob this bank and enjoy herself doing it, and no police officer was going to stop her, not even if that police officer was her father. So instead of hopping off the dumpster and heading over to him, Moira took her chances. She lifted herself through the window the rest of the way, simultaneously
trying to drown out the sound of her father's voice calling her name.
Time to steal some gold.
Just for extra measure, Moira reached up, sliding the window closed. It wasn't like her dad could follow her through it (being a lot bigger than Moira), but he still might try. Of course, it wouldn't be long before he broke through the entrance and followed her. But since the doors were locked, it still would be awhile. That, and Moira knew he didn't have her same skill with picking locks. That skill came from her mom, someone who wasn't on the side of the law.
So she had time. Maybe at least a few minutes until he came in after her, which should be enough. Moira had robbed this bank before, so she knew it like the back of her hand. She'd just have to hurry a little to get to the vaults. Loud knocks came from the grand, double front doors, followed by a "Moira! You come out right now!" Okay, more than a little. Grinning to herself, Moira set off running, taking the same route she always had to the vaults— while sticking close to the walls to avoid the security cameras.
The weird part, though, was that the security cameras had moved. Moved to different spots entirely. All of Moira's original ways of sneaking in were scratched out completely, and because of that, she almost slipped up a few times, after realizing the security cameras were in different corners than usual. Why or when the cameras had been moved, Moira didn't know. And right now, she only half-cared.
The way to the vaults was quick. Almost too quick, considering her dad should be charging in after her. But all she could hear was the sound of her own footsteps against the marble floors, which seemed louder than normal, now that Moira thought about it. During heists, she was usually an expert at running soundlessly — making herself seem invisible was the best tactic for stealing anything, after all — but it seemed to have the opposite effect here.
Before she could think too much on it, though, the vaults reached her line of sight. A grin spread across Moira's lips. She'd made it! But before she got any closer, she stopped in her tracks. There was something else, something that didn't seem right. And that concern momentarily overrode her excitement over getting to finally steal something big.
It wasn't to say that stealing wasn't easy — it was for Moira — but after getting caught by her dad, there'd probably be more of a chase right now. Maybe he was just getting backup. Or maybe he'd been unable to get inside and had just given up trying to stop her (okay, not likely). But she could deal with her dad later. Preferably at home instead of going straight to the police station, if she could talk him out of arresting her.
What mattered more was getting the gold, stealing more than she could carry, and capturing the attention of her mom. More than anything. So with that in mind, Moira took a step towards the vaults. Then another. Even though she was practically tiptoeing, they sounded like stomps, loud enough to echo throughout the bank. Why were her feet so loud? Expert criminals weren't supposed to have loud feet, or get caught by their police officer dad's, or—
Suddenly, the lights in the hallway flicked on, startling Moira. For a moment, she was completely blinded. Her surroundings had almost been pitch black, the only light coming from small patches of moonlight that illuminated through the windows. Now the entire building was lit up, with vibrant lights attached to the ceiling that reminded Moira of the times she'd gone to the mall. Well, more specifically, gone on heists in the mall.
She didn't wait to see who'd turned on the lights, or how it'd happened. Instead, she dove for the nearest wall, ducking behind a tall, fake-looking plant. But as it turned out, she didn't need to. She couldn't see who it was, as the person was somewhere further in the building, but she already knew. Barely a second after she'd jumped behind the plant, a gruff voice called out from down the hallway.
"Moira!" Dad. "You have to stop doing this! Please." His footsteps were heavy, even from a distance. "You know what happens if you rob this place. I won't have any choice but to arrest you."
Moira had to hold herself back from shouting back at him, not wanting to draw attention to herself. At least, not until she'd stolen something. She rolled her eyes. Was he seriously going to arrest her? Didn't he know by now that she was probably the best criminal genius in their town, let alone their country? Maybe that was pushing it, but still, Moira wasn't labeled that for nothing.
If she went out of her hiding place now, she'd be caught. Either by her dad or the security cameras, which would only show footage of her robbing the bank— footage that'd only lead to her getting arrested. Not that Moira cared too much, because she was never faced with charges, but she'd rather steal something and get away with it. And to do that, she'd have to turn off the lights again.
Peering through the leaves of the plant, Moira scanned the hallway for a light switch. Something, anything that would buy her more time. If she was closer to the security room, she could easily just override the whole system, shutting down the cameras and the lights. But since that wasn't possible, she'd have to settle on the lights for now. Plus, didn't her dad know that robbing banks just didn't work when it was light out? He should want this for Moira. He should want her to be happy. And since she was happy breaking the law, that should count!
And then, her eyes fell on it. A light switch, just a few feet away from where she was hiding. Moira beamed. Maybe too far to walk without being seen, but she didn't need to go out of her hiding spot for this. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a lock-picking tool. Since there were multiple lock-picks attached to it, it should be heavy enough to push on the light switch. Throwing her elbow back, she aimed it . . . and flung it.
It missed.
Moira blinked, cringing as the tool made a soft clanging noise as it hit the floor. Well, she hadn't expected that. Usually, she was pretty accurate when it came to anything that involved crime, even throwing objects at light switches. Okay, it didn't matter. She'd just try again, and this time, it would work! And luckily, she'd brought a lot of tools with her. Enough that one of them was sure to turn off the lights.
Pulling another tool out of her pocket — a small screwdriver — Moira squinted, aimed, and threw it directly at the light switch. There was no way she would miss this time. Even though there were, hypothetically, other things in her backpack she could throw, she wouldn't need them. The first throw had been rusty, but she could sabotage the lights in her sleep! This one, she was confident, would hit—
It missed again.
Moira just stared at the spot where two of her tools had landed. Huh. Why was she so bad at this? This wasn't like her. At all, actually. And this wasn't even feeling that fun anymore, which was a rare occurrence in itself. Her aim should be solid. It wasn't like she'd broken her arm or something, which in that case, she'd understand her throw being off. But it wasn't, and she didn't.
It was almost like . . . almost like she was rusty at being a criminal.
As quickly as the thought had come, Moira brushed it off. No way! She'd never thought that, and she wasn't about to start now. Just because she hadn't been aware of her father following her, or had almost gotten caught by security cameras, or had so much trouble turning the lights off . . . didn't mean any of that. And she'd rob this place, no matter what had happened tonight.
"Moira!" a voice called. Moira turned, eyes widening, to see her dad standing at the end of the hallway. And his eyes were on her. He'd seen her. "Thank goodness I found you."
Moira quickly stood up, stepping out of her hiding spot. "How'd you know I'd be here?"
"Well, I came home early from my shift today. And I didn't see you at home, even though school should've ended an hour ago by then."
Uh-oh.
"I thought you might've gotten detention, so I called the school to see if you were there," he continued. "Of course, you weren't." He gave her the same tired, disapproving look of his, one she'd gotten used to. "So I had to assume the worst. I had to assume you were out stealing from someplace, and I was right."
"Hey, I haven't even stolen anything yet!" Moira said, making an attempt to defend herself. "If I had, don't you think I'd look a lot happier right now?" A smile came to her face. "In fact, how about you turn around as I go rob this bank real quick! That sounds great to me!"
"Moira!" His tone was a warning.
She only grinned. "Just let me steal a little bit, and you can pretend you never saw—"
Her father rubbed his eyes. "No, okay? No, I'm not letting you break the law. Not anymore. I thought I made you promise to be better! How many times am I going to have to find you like this? I don't want this for you."
Her grin faltered, only to fade completely. She scooped up her tools from where they'd fallen on the ground, placing them back in her pocket before he could notice. "Why not? I'm good at it. Excellent, even! You have to admit at least that."
Her father sighed. Reaching her, he grabbed her firmly by the arm. Closer up, he just looked sad, in a weird way. "Really, Moira? Come on, let's go home."
Moira huffed, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. "You'll never take me alive!"
Ten minutes later, they were back in his car— it was one of the rare moments Moira was in a police car for a normal reason, and not to be taken into custody. That, and it was also one of the rare moments the lights weren't flashing blue and red from the outside of the car, lighting up the night sky from miles away. While her father started the car up, Moira stared out the window, her chin rested in her hand. The only thing she wanted to do tonight was steal something, and for once, her plans had been foiled.
"Do you want to talk about this?" her father asked, his hands on the wheel as he pulled out of the parking lot.
Moira only heard disappointment in her voice. "Not even a little bit."
He let out a sigh, turning to look at her through tired eyes. "I think I know what this is about."
"Wait, you do?"
"Yeah. I know even though I've been trying to keep you from getting involved with this anymore . . . you just wanted to find your mother. But she's gone, M. She left us, and she's not coming back." He looked sideways at her, a cool breeze blowing from the open windows. "And that doesn't mean I don't miss her. I just don't want you to turn out like her."
Moira raised her eyebrows. "Like what, a Moriarty? Honestly, I'm trying, Dad. But crime is so . . . fun! It's what I love to do, you know?" She grinned at him. "And I have crazy natural talent!"
Maybe not anymore. She pushed that thought away.
"Moira."
"I know, I know." Her grin faded. "I mostly just did it for mom. I thought if I stole something huge, she would've noticed."
Her father nodded. "If you robbed fifty banks, maybe."
She laughed. "Now we're talking!"
He started to laugh too, only to glare at her. "Don't even think about trying that, Moira Gonzalez."
"I won't! Just kidding." Fifty banks, though? Now that was a good place to start next. As long as she could figure out how to stop getting caught by her dad first, which was something that normally never happened. Well, almost never. It was weird, though. She'd never gotten caught as often as she had in the past few days, all thanks to her father being extra cautious.
"Good." Her dad turned his head back to the front. "You know I am proud of you, right? I love you, I just don't want you following your mom down the wrong path. I know you've been trying, but I need you to try harder. No more sneaking out to commit crimes, no law-breaking, none of that. Next time, there will be no excuses. I might have to send you to the Baker Street School."
Moira sighed loudly. The Baker Street School? She'd never been there, but she'd heard some pretty bad things about it— mostly about the guy in charge of the place. Despite never having been there, though, her memory brought up bits and pieces. An electrified fence, so tall it towered over her head. A wristwatch that — with the press of a button — could send a jolt of electricity through your body. Huge, brooding guards. Kids who weren't allowed to laugh.
When you went to that school, it meant you'd done something really bad. And from experience, Moira knew that the people who went there just never came out of it the same. If her dad was thinking of sending her there, well, Moira was sure she could be better at not getting caught. But if she agreed to stop stealing, to stop breaking the law and robbing banks and causing chaos, she wouldn't even have to worry about getting sent there.
He'd made her promise this before — many times before — but it seemed that every time she did, her attention always seemed to go back to crime. No matter how hard she tried to uphold her promise. But upholding promises, especially promises involving committing no crimes at all, was boring! The only reason she tried not to do crime at all was for her father, so that he could be proud of her. And that one reason, as always, was what made her agree.
"Okay, okay. I promise!" she found herself saying, and savored the relieved smile on her dad's face. For how long that promise would stick, though? She had no idea.
The rest of the drive was short, mostly since her dad drove a police car. Because of that, he could speed as much as he wanted to. Having stolen a police car herself, Moira loved the feeling of driving fast. Especially in car chases, when she'd just stolen something big and was on the run. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine she was participating in some great heist, and after she threw the bad guys off her trail, she'd circle back home with her hands full of gold. A perfect night.
Of course, it didn't exactly help that her dad was in the car with her. In her fake car chase scenario, the only way her father would willingly help Moira run from the law was if his memory had been wiped. Even then, he might find Moira's methods horrendous. And how was it possible for memory to be wiped, anyway? If they had that kind of technology, Moira could've been using it on her dad for years to make him forget about all the accidents she'd pulled.
But since that wasn't possible, making promises (which might only last ten minutes, tops) were the next best thing.
After wishing each other goodnight, Moira and her dad parted ways, heading to their rooms. She let her backpack slide off her shoulders, wistfully removing her thieving tools from her pockets. With reluctance, she dropped them to the floor. Then shoved them, hard, under her bed. Until next time, which . . . if she kept her promise for once, there wouldn't be a next time. The very thought made Moira want to turn back around and find something to steal, even if it was just her dad's taser.
But she forced herself to stay. Forced herself to uphold her dad's wish, at least until tomorrow. Or the next week. Or (she winced) even a month. Whatever felt best. Having nothing better to do, she fell backwards onto her bed, feeling the mattress dip under her weight. She had just begun to take off her gloves when the strangest thing happened.
A light — dim at first — appeared from her unopened closet. Almost as if a lamp had been turned on from the inside, though Moira couldn't remember having any lamps in there. Mostly clothes and secret bags of money, but not lamps. She ignored it at first, not really caring too much, but the light only became brighter, enough that it caught Moira's interest. Lifting herself up, she pushed herself off the bed and walked closer to her closet.
For a second, she hoped it might be gold. Gold was shiny, right? Shiny enough that it could get very bright, if the sun landed on it. But it was nighttime, and the light coming from her closet looked more like an actual light than anything else. Placing her hands on her closet door, Moira slowly opened it, the loud creak filling up the silence in the room. The door swung open, and she gasped, immediately jumping backwards in surprise.
In replace of well, her entire closet, was some kind of swirling light in the shape of a circle. Moira couldn't help it. She pinched herself. And then pinched herself harder, when that did nothing. She'd seen a lot of weird stuff over the years, but nothing like this. What was it, a projection of some kind? Even that seemed kind of unbelievable, because how would that get in her closet? Even ten bags of gold showing up mysteriously in her closet was more believable than whatever this was.
And then to add to the weirdness, something flew in from the swirling light. At first glance, it might've been a piece of cloth. But as she looked closer, she realized it was a piece of parchment. Almost looked old-fashioned, like it was created from medieval times. Not that that should be possible, either. Moira picked it up anyway. She unfolded it carefully in her hands.
Huh. An invitation — or an ad — to some carnival. A Magisterian carnival, though she had no idea what Magisterian meant, only that it sounded fancy. Feeling more than a little confused, she scanned the contents of the parchment, her hands trembling from both nerves and excitement. It didn't have any pictures, only words that looked like they'd been painted on. And then Moira's eyes fell on the list of things that would be at the carnival, and a grin slowly came to her face.
A magical crystal ball, huh? She doubted the magic part, but the crystal part of that sentence made her eyes light up. Plus, if it was at a carnival? It had to be a big deal. Big enough that the whole world might notice. Big enough that someone in that world, specifically, might notice. Someone like her mom. Not to say that she was just doing this for her mother, but also for herself. Now this would prove that Moira was a great criminal, despite all her errors today.
But how would she get there? Furrowing her brow, Moira glanced back up at the swirling circle of light. That was where the invitation had blown in from. And she'd never heard of the Magisterian carnival at all, or anything like it. Was it possible that this was . . . a portal? Like a magic portal that could lead to other dimensions? It would explain why the parchment had been such a weird quality, and the strange activities listed at the carnival, and of course, the strange, swirling light right in front of her.
Well, there was only one way to find out. For the first time since she'd gotten home, Moira felt excitement filling her. Not only was she about to steal something that looked super expensive and might be magical, but she was going (well, probably going) to another dimension to do it. Now this, this was the big thing. The thing her mom would notice. The thing that'd finally get them to meet.
Even better, her dad would never find out she'd left! And even if he did, he wouldn't think to look in her closet. Moira beamed at the idea. That was just an added bonus. No getting caught by her dad, so by the time she was back home, he wouldn't even know she'd left. Or that she'd stolen something of extreme value, so he wouldn't even get mad at her for breaking his promise all over again. Perfect.
One more glance at her bedroom behind her, she made her decision. She retrieved her backpack from underneath her bed, dusted off her boots, fixed her beanie. And then, for good measure, snuck into her father's bedroom, snatching the taser from his nightstand drawer. He wouldn't even know it was missing! And besides, what good was going on a trip like this without a wonderful, amazing taser? Wherever she ended up, Moira would need it. More for the fun of using a taser anything else, if it came to that.
Once everything was packed and ready, Moira stood back in front of her closet, in front of the place that'd finally bring her what she'd always wanted. Something burned in her chest, something recognizable, like excitement. She didn't look back. Clutching the pamphlet in her hand, she stepped through the portal, into another world entirely. But what Moira didn't realize was that she was leaving her own story behind— the Baker Street series — and the next time she returned, things would be very different.
Owen couldn't exactly pinpoint the second his day had gotten drastically worse, but if there was one moment that definitely overpowered the others, this had to be it. He screamed as he fell, further and further, through what seemed to be a slide made entirely of water. And unlike regular slides, no amount of friction could halt his fall. It was as if he was weightless, and the water was pulling him along, sending him flying sideways and upwards and even upside-down.
"Bethany!" Owen shouted, only to get splashed with a face-full of water. He sputtered, coughing. Yelling was pointless, too. He must've been miles away from her by now, though he couldn't even tell, because the slide had thrown him in every direction there was.
And since there was no stopping it, he started to focus on what maybe was worse: where was it taking him? This had never been a thing in the real Kiel Gnomenfoot books, or else he'd feel more prepared. But he felt more unprepared than ever, especially after Nobody had rewritten the worlds. As much as things were the same, that didn't mean they'd stay the same. Now that the stories were rewritten, they should be free to change completely.
At this point, anything was possible. Including the end of this slide leading to a very scary place. If he ever got off, that is. Owen's eyes grew wider at the thought. What if he didn't get off? What if he just kept riding on this water slide forever, stuck inside a puddle, and Bethany would never find him? That would be even worse! And it'd all would be Owen's fault, because he hadn't been watching where he was going.
Again, this was all going to be his fault.
Not again! Owen thought, completely tired of all his mess-ups. This couldn't be all his fault again! He thought he was finally beginning to feel more confident, that his mess-ups would stop happening. But they hadn't, and right now, he didn't.
Owen slapped the water in frustration. There had to be a way to get out of here. He'd told Bethany he would meet her at the carnival, but that was assuming both of them had a way of getting there. She probably would find one, but if he was stuck in this puddle forever, it was likely he wouldn't make it in time. Then Bethany, being the hero she was, would just have to find the crystal ball on her own, and he didn't have a single doubt she could do it.
Meanwhile, Owen would be here. Useless.
Just when he was starting to think the opposite about himself.
The water dipped straight down, and Owen let out a surprised scream. He looked down, expecting to see the water branching off in another direction. Instead, there was a gigantic opening right at the bottom; it looked blurry, like the sky from the bottom of a swimming pool. Right where he was headed. His heart pounded faster, and something dawned on him. Was he going inside that thing? Oh no, he was.
But what would happen once he did?
"Wait!" Owen screamed, trying desperately to push himself up. Not that it did anything, because he was practically submerged in a waterfall. "I don't want to go in there! Not at all! Wait! Wait—" His sentence was abruptly cut off as the gigantic puddle rose to greet him, and he opened his mouth to scream. But he was never given the chance.
Instinctively, Owen squeezed his eyes shut as he collided with the puddle. He expected there to be some kind of explosion, or he'd start drowning, or he'd be trapped in some kind of underwater prison. Instead, he found himself being shoved straight upward, and the next thing he knew, he had landed on something solid. Something that was very much not water. But Owen barely had time to process it. The impact sent him rolling across the ground, dizzy and disoriented, until he gradually halted to a stop.
It took Owen almost ten seconds to realize he was laying down on a hard surface, no longer being tossed around by a magical water slide. Mostly because his world wouldn't stop spinning, so it really did feel like he was still on it. Once the dizziness faded and Owen felt a little less sick, he hesitantly cracked an eye open. Then another. And found himself staring up at a bright sky, faded colors of blue filling it, as well as more vibrant shades of pink and purple.
Owen's eyes widened. Suddenly, the realization hit him. He was outside! He was out of the puddle! Almost afraid to believe it, he quickly lifted himself up into a sitting position, whipping his head in every direction. The puddle he'd fallen out of was a few feet away, looking the same as every other puddle he'd seen before. If he hadn't just been inside it, he probably would've thought it was a normal puddle, and stepping in it wouldn't lead to another place entirely.
Speaking of other places . . .
Where was he? For the first time since he'd fallen out of the puddle, he looked at his surroundings. Wherever he'd ended up, it definitely wasn't the alleyway of a busy Magisterian village. In replace of it was a weaving, dirt roadside, sitting on what seemed to be a mountain. Or a very large hill. Owen couldn't tell which. He groaned. Why did he have to end up here? Was he even still in Magisteria? And how could he reach the carnival from here?
"Are you kidding me?!" Owen shouted. Annoyed, he tossed his foot out, kicking the puddle just enough to skim the top of it. Out of fear that he'd get pulled back inside the puddle again, though, he quickly yanked his foot back.
Just then, an idea formed in his head. Wait, what if he jumped back in again? If this puddle worked as some kind of a teleportation device, could it take him back to the same puddle he'd fallen into, back to Bethany? That might work. Maybe. But the only problem was he had no idea how long he'd been inside the puddle, getting transported somewhere else. It felt like hours. If he jumped back in again, who was to say Bethany would still be there? Or that he'd end up back in the same spot?
He sighed. Who was he kidding? That wouldn't work. The only thing he could do was try to get to the carnival from here . . . wherever here was.
Owen took a few steps forward, peering nervously over the mountain. It wasn't super tall, but it wouldn't be easy to get down, either. It wasn't like there was a rope anywhere nearby, or a ladder, or even stairs. Not seeing any other choice, Owen started following the dirt road, which seemed to weave up and around the mountain. Remembering that made him feel a little better. Maybe if he followed it, he could get down!
Not that he was really sure what the road was for. If he was still in Magisteria — which from the look of it, he was — the giants were the only creatures that lived up in the mountains. Some wizards did, too. And dragons had been known to hang out here. All reasons why he should really hurry, if he ran into something — or someone — that tried to eat him. Or kill him. After getting trapped in a prehistoric, dinosaur-filled jungle, he'd had enough of almost getting eaten.
But it still didn't make any sense. Why was there a random road here? On a mountain, no less? It wasn't like Magisteria had cars. Most of their transportation was either by flying, teleporting, or being pulled by wagons. And if most of the creatures that lived in the mountains didn't even use roads, why was there one? Owen shook his head, letting it go. It didn't matter why it was there. Just get to the bottom, get to the carnival, and (hopefully) don't get eaten on the way there.
Yeah, that sounded good.
The path led him closer to the rocky walls of the mountain, where the ground was less flat and more steep. He could tell he was heading down, though, which was a good sign. The only problem was that it was happening way too gradually, and all Owen wanted to do was get to the bottom already. If that's where the carnival even was. Ugh.
This would be so much easier if it was nighttime, so he could follow the constellation! At least if he knew what direction the constellation was in, like north or south, he could just go that way. But he didn't know directions that well, let alone have a compass to see where each direction was facing. If only that Magisterian woman had told them the exact direction the constellation was in, this would be so much easier. Instead, he'd need to wait for it to be night.
He glanced up at the sky. It wasn't dark yet, not even close. But the sun was dipping closer to the horizon, just enough that soon, maybe in an hour, it'd be sunset. Well, he couldn't tell. If Charm or Kara were here, they'd know the exact time the sun would set, which would be perfect for spotting the constellation. Charm, because she was super smart and amazing at predictions, and Kara, because of her time-traveling abilities.
And if they were here, well, Owen would feel a lot better about things.
For now, without any clue of which direction he could go, the most he could do was go down. Unless the carnival happened to be up in the sky, and you needed to climb a mountain to get up. If that was the case, Owen would be seriously annoyed. And probably would have less fun at the carnival than he wanted to, because despite what their mission was for, he was still really excited to see the Magisterian carnival.
Kiel had told him all about it once, even promised to take Owen there someday. Owen had read about it being mentioned in the books, of course, since Kiel had visited there once to (ironically) seek answers from the all-knowing crystal ball. That was the only reason he'd thought of it, as a way to figure out how to restore the worlds. He just really, really hoped the crystal ball was still there, and hadn't been rewritten into something else.
Because if not, they were running out of ideas. And the last thing they needed was to run out of ideas, when Owen was close to running out of ideas to begin with. Another reason Owen wished all his friends were here. Imagining their advice helped, what kinds of ideas they might have, but realistically, they could just be as stumped as Owen was! Restoring the worlds would've been so easy if Nobody had just . . . done what they asked. Like that was imaginable.
After a few minutes down the path, Owen realized he was weaving back inward, deeper into the mountain. Not where he wanted to go, but he didn't trust himself to get anywhere without following the path, either. It would lead down . . . eventually, right?
Alongside the path, the grass became less prominent, with more and more rocks and gravel replacing it. Unlike back home, where the rocks were ordinary and gray, Magisteria's rocks seemed to have a shine to them. Like if he looked at them from one angle, they'd appear purple, or yellow, or blue, even if they really weren't. He was so caught up in looking at the path — and what lay around it — that he didn't even notice a rock that inconveniently had just been laying in the middle of it.
Until accidentally, his shoe caught on the rock. And unfortunately, Owen had no time to dodge. Or to regain his balance. The next thing he knew, he had fallen face-first into the dirt, wincing from the pain in his broken arm, which he'd landed awkwardly on. Ouch. He drew his broken arm back, rubbing it as he groaned. How many times was he going to trip today? Shakily throwing his other arm out, Owen made a move to pick himself up—
And found himself face-to-face to what looked like a cave.
It was a huge opening in the mountain, almost like a gigantic, crooked mouth. Owen's eyes grew wider at the sight. Wait, a cave? He hadn't noticed any other ones— at least not since he'd arrived on the mountain. He glanced to the right, noticing the path led that way. He probably should follow it. Probably should keep going, not stopping until it led him to the bottom. But something kept him rooted there. What if there was something inside that was useful?
Like a nice, friendly dragon that'd offer him a lift? Or a magic carpet? Or a magic elevator of some kind (okay, that was a stretch, considering Magisteria didn't even have elevators). Or much technology, really. Still. Worth a shot. But Owen didn't move. He bit his lip, a sudden wave of anxiety rushing up inside him. As much as going inside the cave sounded good, it could just as likely be dangerous. The kind of danger that Owen had been hoping to avoid.
If it was anything like the last cave he'd been to, there was no way he was going inside. Not if a mummy or some other monster would trap him in his worst fears forever! Owen shuddered at the thought. He'd had enough of that for a lifetime. Please, no more monsters. But right now, he'd have to take his chances. At least poke his head inside the cave, check it out, and go back down the path. That sounded completely safe. Completely.
Feeling the exact opposite of safe, Owen took a step inside the cave. Then another. If he still had his time powers, he might feel a lot more confident about going inside. But hopefully, whatever was inside — if there was anything at all — wouldn't require his powers anyway. Then again, this was Magisteria he was talking about. There was no such thing as normal caves! If anything, there'd be something weird or magical inside. It just depended on what that something was.
Just like the last cave he'd been to, the inside of the cave was dark, the majority of the light coming from the rays of sunlight streaming in. The further he went into the cave, the more Owen wanted to turn around. He shouldn't be doing this. What was the number one rule of horror books, to not walk into dark places alone? Well, he was definitely breaking that rule now. And if he got murdered, there'd be no one to blame but himself.
Owen took another step, and without warning, his foot sunk right into something. The strange noise of coins clanging against each other filled his ears, like a dozen pennies being shaken inside a bag. He yelped, instantly jumping backwards. What was that? Almost afraid to look, he turned his gaze to where his foot had just been, his heart pounding a mile a minute. And his mouth dropped upon. It was a pile of gold! And now that he looked closer, he realized that wasn't the only one in the cave.
All around him were piles of gold. Piles upon piles of gold, which must've been deep enough to walk in. But it wasn't only that. He spotted gems, too— some the size of his leg, while others were just big enough to fit in the palm of his hand. Not only that, but gold-encrusted goblets, and plates, and even what appeared to be tree branches. He didn't know how he hadn't noticed it all here before, but now that he had, he couldn't stop staring. Everything was impossibly shiny.
"Whoa—!" Owen almost shouted, but quickly caught himself. Grinning, he turned in circles, staring around him in fascination. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Awesome!"
How had so much gold ended up in one place? It didn't even seem possible to move this much gold, unless you were, well, using magic. Okay, maybe it was possible. Owen was about to reach down, touching a large, gold-colored sword, only to stop. Being here probably wasn't a good idea, after all. It might've just been a Lord Of The Rings and How To Train Your Dragon thing, but— okay, no, it was kind of a popular trope. And if that trope was true here, a dragon might be living in this cave, guarding the treasure.
At the thought, the excitement drained out of Owen. Yep, time to leave! Even though he didn't see any dragons, he didn't want to stick around and wait for one to show up. Plus, it wasn't like anything in here was going to help him get down the mountain. Unless the dragon became his best friend and decided to help him, but were the odds of that? Owen would just rather leave now than take his chances getting eaten. Yeah, that sounded good.
A lot more relieved with his decision, Owen turned on his heel, moving back the way he came. Being in a room full of gold suddenly just felt less exciting, especially when a fire-breathing dragon might be lurking around here — maybe even laying underneath all the gold! The thought made him hurry a little faster, his legs trembling with every step.
And then, when he'd almost reached the cave's exit, there was the sound of gold coins being rustled. Owen froze. He couldn't breathe. Was it the dragon? Was it awake, or had it been awake the whole time, and was only choosing now to eat him? Just like what'd happened in Pick The Plot, except dragons were trying to eat him, not dinosaurs. This was so not awesome anymore. This was not awesome!
Slowly, he turned around, entirely expecting to see a dragon sitting in all the gold, staring at him. But he didn't. He didn't even hear it, which was weird, because dragons were normally loud. Even if they weren't breathing fire or roaring, just being near one, you could hear every footfall, every breath that they took. Owen strained his ears for the sound of one, but the only thing he heard was gold coins being moved. And it almost sounded like someone was . . . talking?
Then, it hit him. It wasn't a dragon at all. There was someone else in here with him. Swallowing hard, Owen forced his feet back in the direction of the gold, trying his best not to make any noise. Whoever the person was, they probably couldn't hear him anyway, over how much noise they were making. Once he was close enough to the sound, he peered over the side of one of the huge piles of gold . . .
And gasped. Maybe a little too loudly, because the person stopped what they were doing, head whipping around to look at them. Owen couldn't move, he was so shocked. It wasn't because they were taking gold — because if a dragon wasn't guarding it, that seemed like a pretty normal thing to do — but because he recognized the person right away. A girl about his age, dressed in all black, but wearing clothes that looked incredibly similar to Owen's world. The exact clothes that a burglar would wear.
Of all the people in the world he'd expected to see, it definitely hadn't been a mastermind criminal from The Baker Street School for Irregular Children.
He just stood there, gaping at her. "Moira?"
Moira smiled in confusion. "Hi! You don't own this place, do you? That would be a shame, because your gold is really easy to steal." She gestured to her pockets, and sure enough, they were filled to the max with gold coins. Almost a little too much, because every time she turned, a coin would fall out of her pocket, landing with a ping! on the ground.
"Um . . ."
"Wait, how do you know my name? I've never met you! Wait, you're not one of my henchpeople I hired as a decoy, are you?"
"Um, no, I—"
Owen just shook his head, too confused to process what she was saying. This didn't make any sense! Why was Moira here? How was she here? There was no way she could've traveled over to Kiel's story, right? The only person who'd had that power was Nobody. And of course, Doyle had been able to travel between stories when he'd been solving mysteries. Only because his story had been in the same world as every other story that took place in a real-world setting, which was why he'd been able to show up in other books.
But other than that — and Bethany, of course — there'd been no one else who could just . . . go between stories.
Right?
"Huh! Maybe not. I don't recognize you."
Owen was about to ask why, then he remembered: the forgetting spell. He didn't think he could bring up that, somehow explaining that he knew her when she didn't know him. That had been exactly what Kara had pulled on him when they'd first met, and despite it being because of time travel, the how they'd first met was too confusing to think about. And the whole thing with them meeting each other at separate times.
He couldn't explain that to Moira, that they'd hired her years ago to use as backup when confronting Doyle, but had to wipe her memory because she'd learned about things — things they had to keep hidden, like Bethany's powers and the real world. She'd never believe him! Not when there wasn't magic in her world to begin with. But then again . . . here she was. In Magisteria, of all places, which was probably as magical as you could get.
Owen struggled for an answer. "Oh, I've just heard of you. You're a Moriarty! I mean, right? You're a criminal genius?"
"I also come from a long line of police enforcement. I'm a Gonzalez," she said, then snorted. "Okay, yeah, that wasn't going to hold up. You got me! I'm a Moriarty. So, you know me? Are you an aspiring criminal, too?"
He felt heat rise to his cheeks. Him, a criminal? If he had that as a hobby, his mom would ground him until he was a hundred years old, and plus, he was sure he'd be bad at it. The whole crime thing. Kiel or Kara, on the other hand, seemed to have a knack for it. They'd been labeled as criminals probably their whole lives, and didn't seem to have a problem with it. But the crimes they committed were still different from real world crimes, which was closer to what Moira did.
"Not really," Owen told her nervously. "I'd rather not get arrested and grounded by my mom and—" Realizing she was quickly appearing bored, and he didn't actually care about his answer, he focused on the question he'd really wanted to ask. "How — how are you here? How did you get here?"
She grinned hugely. "Like I know? I found this weird light in my closet, so I stepped through it, and I came here. Where there is so much pretty gold!" She scooped up a pile of coins, marveling at it. "I'm taking you with me! Yes I am!"
"A weird light?" Owen repeated. Did she mean a portal? All he could think of was Narnia, transporting people to other worlds from inside a wardrobe. But why had there been a random portal that led to Kiel's world . . . in Moira's closet? Why were there portals at all, when that wasn't part of her story? And why had she come through in the first place?
This was starting to feel like a gigantic mystery, and all Owen wanted to do was flip to the end and find all the answers. But that wasn't possible here. Not even a little bit. He was about to ask why she'd come through the portal at all — since she had purposely left her story — but a noise stopped him. A roar. Far away, yet close enough that Owen nearly jumped out of his skin. And a second later, the ground rumbled beneath his soggy sneakers.
"We have to go," Owen found himself saying, talking so fast his brain could barely keep up. "There's a dragon here we're gonna get eaten we have to go now!"
But Moira just giggled, reaching out and pinching his cheek. Hard. "Quit being so crazy! Dragons are fake!"
Owen rubbed his face where she'd pinched it. "What was that for?"
She settled for a more serious look. "It's just an earthquake. Aww! Are you scared of earthquakes?"
"What? No, I'm not! It's not an earthquake! We have to go before—"
Another rumble, more powerful this time. So powerful that Owen nearly lost his balance. He reached for Moira's arm. "Come on!"
And then, in a flash, a taser was in her other hand, pointed directly at him. She pressed a button, and the taser whirred to life, shooting little blue bolts into the air. Owen's eyes widened in surprise, and he let go of her as if he'd been burned, quickly leaping backwards. He did not want to be tasered again.
Probably sensing that, Moira smiled. She held the taser closer to him, making him gulp. "Try that again, and you might get tasered! Nothing personal, though. It's just very fun for me to use."
Owen eyed her taser nervously. "Please don't taser me, okay?" His voice cracked. "We need to go before—"
"You can go, but I'm not leaving! Not until I figure out how to bring all this gold back home with me!"
"Moira," he hissed. "No, please, we're going to—"
Another rumble, and this time, he swore he heard the sound of a dragon huffing. He should go. It was clear that Moira didn't want to go, and if he tried to bring her, she'd taser him! Since she'd emerged in this cave after leaving her story, the portal was probably nearby, so she could just jump back in. And out of anyone, she was the most skilled at sneaking around. But he couldn't just leave her, could he? It still wasn't right. Not that she'd agree to go. He had to think of some way to convince her.
Wait a second. What was he thinking? This was his chance! Maybe that'd be Owen's thing — getting the extra help they needed to find the crystal ball! Not that he was sure he and Bethany would need it, but they could use her as backup. Besides, it was a great idea for getting her away from the dragon! He had a feeling that she'd only leave if he offered her money, so it was the only thing he could think of. That, or risk getting tasered again.
"What if I hired you?" Owen asked, poorly disguised desperation in his voice. The dragon would be here any second! He expected Moira to agree right away, at least hoped she would, but she almost seemed reluctant. So he added, "I-I just need protection. Backup, until I get to this, um, carnival I'm going to. If you agree, you'll get all of this gold!"
Okay, that definitely was a stretch — and something Owen felt bad for promising, because he couldn't guarantee it — but it might be the only thing that'd get her out of the cave.
Her eyes lit up, though what he didn't know was that it wasn't just because of the gold. "Then if that's the case, yes! Thank you!" She pocketed her taser, leaning down to pick up another handful of gold. "I'll see you later, you beautiful, shiny—"
"Uh, Moira, w-we—" Owen started to say, but a roar drowned out the rest of his sentence. Oh no. They were too late! Owen whipped around, turning to see a dragon that now filled up the majority of the cave. Two golden, reptilian eyes were fixed on them, and it was already moving towards them, fire building up in its throat.
Electric with fear, Owen didn't move. Until the dragon released a spout of fire from its throat, and Moira yanked Owen to the ground. All of the air left his lungs as he hit the ground, his mouth open to scream at the horror before him, but he was too terrified to make a sound. A second later, the fire passed right above their heads, and he could feel the intense heat, uncomfortably close to his body. Yeah, they had to get out of here. Now.
"Wow, that is a huge lizard," Moira said, and Owen couldn't help but turn to stare at her in disbelief. Was she kidding? But before he could respond, she grabbed his arm, pulling him off the ground. Then, she pushed him forward, almost making him lose his balance. "What are you doing standing around, silly? Let's go!"
"That's what I've been saying!" Owen shouted, and despite his fear, felt a surge of annoyance.
Seriously? Now she wanted to leave, when before he'd wanted to do nothing but that? Just as much as he was annoyed by her response, he couldn't help but feel confusion at her reaction to the dragon. Maybe it was because she was used to crazy things happening, but she didn't seem to be freaking out or anything, which was what Owen would be doing if he was in her shoes. Heck, he'd seen dragons before, and he was freaking out now.
Unless she wasn't as worried because she didn't see it as a threat. From the past times he'd spent with Moira, close to nothing seemed to scare her. Not heights, not police officers, and definitely not teenage detectives. But she was in a world entirely different from her own — a magical one — and had never seen a dragon before. How couldn't that seem scary to someone who'd never seen one? She didn't actually think this was just a giant lizard . . . right?
The dragon spread its wings, using its momentum to fly up into the air. And then, with a growl, it dove down, roaring so loudly that the sound hurt Owen's ears. That was enough to swallow up his annoyance entirely. Brought back to his senses, Owen forced his legs to move. And then he was running, which was kind of hard to do when the cave floor was covered in treasure.
"You look distressed," Moira said from beside him, seemingly unbothered by the danger. "Kind of like a panda, actually. Like a very sad, adorable panda. Hey, can I call you that? Sad Panda?"
"I . . . I . . ."
Another roar, so loud it pounded through Owen's temples. He could barely focus on what she'd said or formulate an answer before the dragon came swooping in again, its enormous talons outstretched, as if ready to grab them. Eyes widening, he leaped out of the way, taking Moira down with him. Not even a second later, the dragon's talons swept through the spot they'd been, and the force of its wings pinned Owen to the ground.
"Hang tight, SP!" Moira said, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw her whipping out her taser. "I'll taser it!"
Owen groaned. He pushed his good arm underneath him, using it to lift himself up again. He caught sight of the dragon, circling back again to grab them, and felt suddenly lightheaded. "That's a horrible idea! You think a taser will get it to stop attacking us?"
"Duh. Tasers are the solution to everything." She glanced at the dragon again, and a frown filled up her face. "Well, I guess you're right. One taser might not be enough! I need at least five!"
The dragon opened its mouth again, as if ready to release another wave of fire, and Owen spun on his heel, stumbling into a sprint. In front of him, the opening in the cave was getting closer, revealing a lush, green landscape beyond. They were getting close! Just another few seconds, or even a minute, and they'd be out of the cave. Where hopefully, the dragon would stop trying to kill them. But would that really be true? Just because they got away from the dragon's treasure, that didn't mean the dragon wouldn't still be angry.
Giving up on trying to use her taser (which Owen was glad about), Moira was back to running, too. But while he was running — almost maniacally — to the cave's exit, she started veering off for the nearest wall. Confused, his eyes followed her, almost tripping over some coins laying on the ground in the process. What was she doing? They had to get out of here, and she seemed to be trying to delay that.
"Where are you going?!" Owen shouted.
"This way, SP!" Moira said, grinning at him. "I have an idea."
Uh-oh. The last time he'd heard that from her, she'd forced him to walk on the ledge of a police station, threatened to drop him off the same ledge, and had them climb a drainpipe to get onto the roof of said police station. Whatever idea she had, he guessed it wouldn't be safe. Not that they were even close to safe right now, but depending on Moira's idea, it could get even more dangerous, if that was possible.
Even though his brain screamed at him to keep running for the exit, he changed directions, reaching Moira just in time to see that she'd grabbed something from the treasure-covered floor. A tray, made entirely of gold. Wait, not a tray, Owen realized. A mirror. As the dragon headed for them again, Moira lifted the mirror above their heads, shifting the angle slightly. At first, nothing happened. And then, Owen noticed something change. As she shifted the mirror, it caught a ray of sun.
And the surface of the mirror started to glow.
Above them, the dragon was still coming closer. Coming right at them. Jaws opened wide, ready to breathe fire again, or eat them, or both. Instinctively, Owen took a few steps back. It was getting closer now. Way too close. He pressed his back against the wall of the cave, squeezing his eyes shut. It wasn't going to work. He'd had the chance to get out of here, and he hadn't taken it, all because he thought listening to Moira was the best thing to do. Awesome.
And then he heard a roar. He opened his eyes just in time to see the dragon had closed its own eyes, blinded from the light that reflected off the mirror. Unable to see properly anymore, it veered off to the side, colliding with the wall a distance away. At the impact, the entire cavern shook, and Owen would've lost his balance if it weren't for the wall pressed against his back.
"No wasting time, SP!" Moira pulled him away from the wall, the mirror still in her hand.
"H-How did you know that would work?" Owen asked, hoping she couldn't tell how much his voice was trembling.
"Huh?" Moira glanced behind them, where the dragon was still laying on the cave floor. "Oh, I didn't! I've just always wanted to use a mirror to blind someone." She grinned.
Not knowing what to say to that, Owen kept running. Fear coursed through his veins, his heart pounding so rapidly it made even breathing difficult. He kept going, though, not stopping until they broke through the entrance of the cave, stepping back out into the sunlight. A grin came to his face. They'd made it! He was okay! Dizzy with relief, he started to laugh, only for his laughter to fade completely as he heard a roar from inside the cave.
Uh-oh.
His legs wobbling, Owen started running back down the dirt path, gesturing for Moira to follow. "This — this way! We have to get down the mountain."
Moira squinted at him. "Nope, can't do that way." She pointed a thumb behind them. "It's going to follow us." She giggled, almost as if the idea made her excited. "We'll have to go down the fast way!"
"Fast way? There is no—"
That's when he noticed she was placing the mirror in her hands down, positioning it so it was on the ground, right beside the edge of the mountain. It took a few seconds for him to realize what she meant. When he did, his mouth dropped open. Horror rose inside him. She wasn't . . . trying to use that as a sled, was she? So they could ride it down the mountain? Moira sat down on the front half of it, then patted the spot behind her, which — unfortunately for Owen — had just enough room for him to fit. That confirmed it.
"No, we're not doing this!" Owen said, eyes wide as he shook his head over and over.
If it wasn't the dragon, this would totally be the thing to kill them. This was crazy! Why did every fictional character he knew feel this need to throw themselves into danger at every second? Did Moira actually think the mirror would work as a sled? He peered over the side of the mountain, which wasn't by any means a flat, easy hill. It looked steep, with rocks and bumps that layered the ground, but not impossible to slide down. And he could see the bottom from here, which was a good sign . . . right?
But they couldn't do this. It was too crazy. And besides, why would they, when they could just follow the path until they reached the bottom of the mountain? Sure, it could take hours, but it wasn't like they could get killed that way. Unless the dragon followed them, or something else equally as scary. Only in that case would Owen regret taking the safe path, but he'd regret his choices a lot more if he did this!
Moira, as usual, didn't seem to care. She patted the part of the mirror that was behind her again, more insistently this time. "Get on here, SP."
"No, I can't!" Owen protested. "Other than this being a horrible way to die, how is it going to help us?"
"It depends! How fast do you want to get to that carnival?"
He sighed. She had a point. If he took the path, it'd be safer, yes, but who knew how long it'd take for them to get to the carnival? Hours? Days, maybe? If he had Kiel's magic, he could easily use it to teleport himself straight there. The only way to get there would be to walk, unless they came across something faster. And for now, despite how absolutely crazy this idea sounded, he had to admit sliding down the mountain would get them there faster. With much reluctance, he nodded.
"O-Okay. We'll do it. But just so you know, this is such a bad idea," Owen told her, wondering if this was even remotely safe. Nope, it wasn't. He forced himself to sit behind her, still wanting very much not to do this. Giving him an excited look, Moira grabbed his hands from behind, positioning them so they clung to her backpack straps. The whole time, he stared at the scenery below them, his stomach twisted into a dozen knots.
Moira used her legs to scoot them closer to the edge. "Ready?"
"No? But it's gonna be okay!" Owen said, mostly to reassure himself. "It's probably not as bad as it—" Then she kicked off the side of the mountain, causing the mirror to dip straight down, and he screamed, "Maybe not!"
Owen had been on rollercoasters before. Most of them — the less intense ones, mainly — he loved. Maybe not as much as Bethany or Kiel seemed to, but as long as he didn't feel like he was about to die, he was okay with it. In a rollercoaster, he was strapped in with a seatbelt, and he still had something to hold onto in case he got scared — which he usually did. Sometimes, on the scariest ones, he might feel like crying or throwing up by the end. But he was never in any actual danger, and there was the difference.
Now this? This was ten times worse than any rollercoaster he'd ever been on. Mainly because they were on an actual, real-life mountain, and they were sliding down it at one-hundred miles per hour on nothing but a mirror. Wind rushed up towards Owen's face, his mouth open in an endless scream. Once he started screaming, he hadn't been able to stop. It was like sledding down a snowy hill, except even that was likely much less terrifying.
Gravity caught up with them, and they seemed to be sliding faster and faster. Most of what they passed was grass, which danced in the wind. Trees started to pop up, which might've seemed like a good sign, because it meant they were closer to reaching the bottom. But to Owen, it made him feel worse. With the speed they were going, what if they slammed into a tree? Oh god, what if they slammed into multiple trees? He held on tighter to Moira. His knuckles were quickly turning white.
As they barreled down the mountain, something weird happened to Owen. Suddenly, he stopped thinking about rollercoasters and sledding and safer pathways. Strangest of all, though, was that for a moment, Owen's fear fell away. His scream died in his throat. His eyes glued themselves to the bottom of the mountain, unflinching, and he found himself counting down the seconds until they'd reach the ground.
Moira must've noticed his sudden change in attitude, because she threw a glance back at him. "Did you faint back there?"
"Nope," he replied, surprised at the calmness in his voice. Shouldn't he be scared right now? Why wasn't he? "I feel fine."
The new feeling was short-lived, however. Because a second later, the fear came barreling in again, so suddenly that he sucked in a gasp. Questions came rushing in too, one after the other. Why had he said he felt fine? That had never happened before, not in any other time he was in danger. The way he'd felt . . . it was the same way he'd always imagined Kiel felt in danger. Unbothered. Calm. Excited.
But he hadn't felt excited . . . had he? He didn't know what he had felt, only that there seemed to be a lack of feeling. Like the emotions had decided to leave his body and come back in again, leaving him confused and disoriented. He didn't have much time to think on what had happened, though, because right in front of them, a tree was rushing up to greet them. They were going to hit it! Owen screamed again.
"TREE!"
"I know, I got this!" Moira leaned to the left, and the mirror shifted directions slightly, missing the tree by inches. Owen cringed. That had been close. It didn't help that the ride was growing bumpier, and below them, the mirror kept creaking and groaning, as if it might break. Even if it was made of gold, a mirror being used as a makeshift sled could only take so much damage.
Please don't break, please don't break, please don't break.
Between worrying about the mirror's state, crashing into trees, and his own personal well-being, it was a wonder Owen didn't end up fainting. Probably because he decided he'd close his eyes for the rest of the ride, under the assumption that Moira had it handled. As they reached the bottom, the sled started to slow down, the hill becoming less and less steep. Finally, there was an abrupt halt, and Owen cracked his eyes open to see a forest, the mountain behind them.
And a second after they reached the bottom, the mirror cracked in half. Moira was the first to jump up, a wide grin on her face. "Now that is an exit." She looked proud of herself. "You can see where your money is going now!"
They'd made it? Wait, they'd made it! He was alive! He wanted to shout for joy, but outwardly, he couldn't do any of that. He could barely nod, he was shaking so much. Or say anything. His heart was still racing out of control, sounding like a drum inside his chest. A weird mixture of sickness and relief flooded his mind. More relief than anything else. That, and disbelief, because he couldn't even imagine how they'd done that and survived.
With some difficulty, he placed his hands on the soft grass around him, pushing himself into a standing position. Despite not barreling down the mountain anymore, he could still feel the ground moving underneath him— a side effect of the dizziness. He managed to give Moira a wobbly smile, not sure if he wanted to kiss the ground or throw up. Both sounded like equally good options.
Moira furrowed her brows. "You good, SP?"
"Good," Owen breathed. "Just — just need a . . . minute." Out of breath, his words came out slowly. "That . . . was . . . horrible."
"I hope you'll be paying me extra for that!" Moira sang, though Owen barely heard her. Leaving the broken mirror behind, they stumbled into a walk, Owen feeling less sick as the seconds passed. Moira pulled a gold coin from her pocket, studying it intently. "So why are you going to the carnival?"
Owen started to respond, automatically explaining the real reason they were headed there. Before he could, he quickly stopped himself. Right! he remembered. He shouldn't tell her all the details. Explaining all the stuff about fixing the fictional worlds, and Nobody, and pure possibility just . . . wasn't something he could share. With his close friends, sure, but not with someone who didn't know about the details in the first place. So he stuck to a simple answer.
"Oh! Um, just for fun," he told her, trying to sound as causal as possible. "And there's this crystal ball there I've been wanting to check out. I'm meeting my friend there, too."
For some reason, that seemed to interest her. Enough to make her look up from the coin in her hands, which she'd seemed memorized by. "A crystal ball? How expensive do you think that is?"
He shrugged. "Uh, I don't know? Probably super expensive?"
"Cool."
She didn't mention anything else about the carnival after that, except to ask about the how to get there and where it was, which wasn't something Owen could fully gives answers to. He knew how, by following the constellation, which should be easy enough. But since they couldn't do that until the stars appeared, there'd be no traveling. Maybe not even for a few hours. The sun was close to reaching the horizon, though, which gave him hope. Soon, they really could get going.
But since soon didn't come for a while from now, Owen decided the best thing to do was wait. So they did. Finding a nice, shady patch of the forest, Owen collapsed down on the lush grass, his eyes on the huge, fluffy clouds above. Moira sat a few feet away, her back against a tree. Last time he checked, she'd been counting the gold in her pockets, murmuring happily to herself. At least one of them felt optimistic.
Owen would've felt better if he could get moving, get closer to meeting back up with Bethany, closer to fixing everything. That is, if it worked. If the crystal ball was still there. It had to be. He wasn't willing to accept that it might not have been rewritten, but since the carnival was still here, that had to mean the crystal ball still was. They'd ask it how to fix the worlds, and soon enough, everything would be back to the way it was. Whenever that moment was, he couldn't wait for all of this to finally be over.
Then maybe, he could worry about normal things again, like math problems and chores and whether he was still grounded or not. Before meeting Bethany, he'd give anything to be worried about things like this. Saving the world had just sounded so cool and exciting, a far-away concept that he'd dreamed about his whole life. And in the center of it all, Owen was a hero, admired and looked up to by everyone.
He wondered if that was still possible. Even after everything that'd happened so far, he didn't think of himself as a hero. Just a fifteen-year-old boy who tried playing the part of one, but was more of a sidekick, while his best friends were the heroes, taking down the bad guys easily. But it was so much more complicated than that.
When it came to Nobody — against Owen's expectations — bad things hadn't been easy for the heroes to stop. Maybe they never had. But from the outside of a book, it'd always seemed that way. Even if the journeys were hard, when they were over, the adventures seemed fun when you looked back on them. He wondered if when all of this was finally over, he'd still think of it that way. Like an adventure, as if it was all being read from behind the pages of a book. Honestly, he had no idea.
As his thoughts drifted, he stared up at the sky, a weird calmness filling him. Despite all his worries, and all the thoughts of what could go wrong, it was hard not to feel at least a little relaxed when he was laying in the soft grass, staring up at the sky. His hands brushed against the grass surrounding him, picking up shards and letting them go, watching them get caught in the wind.
And then there was a weird noise, and the peaceful moment ended. It was noticeably loud, kind of sounding like an engine, which should be impossible, because engines didn't even exist on Magisteria. The noise only grew louder, though, and butterflies took flight in Owen's stomach. An object emerged in the sky right above their heads, so close it nearly brushed against the tops of the trees, which weren't crazy tall to begin with. Even weirder, the object seemed to resemble a plane. Wait, a plane?
He rubbed his eyes, thinking he was just imagining it being there. Sure enough, it was still there. If the sight of it wasn't proof enough, the loudness of the engine was. Owen found himself gaping up at the plane, which looked a little too old-fashioned to be modern-day, but he was less focused on that. There weren't any planes in Magisteria or Quanterium. Spaceships, yes, but planes? Especially ones so bent out of shape, looking like they'd been made in the 1920's? It shouldn't be possible.
"What?!" he cried. "This isn't part of the story!"
And then it hit him. That was why Moira had been able to cross over into Kiel's and Charm's book. It must not just be her story where random portals were emerging, it must be way more! The fictional worlds weren't separated anymore. And now that they had been rewritten, they had the power to change into anything. Every story that ever existed was in danger, because after this, these stories wouldn't exist. They were merging together into one world.
And Owen didn't want to wait to find out what that would mean.
"There's no going back from it baby. Maybe you know how it feels . . ."
