It seems strange to write this now, look back on everything that my life used to be and see how it's changed…I wonder, sometimes, if anyone will read this story, if it will change lives someday, the way another's story changed mine.

I found the book in the gutter. Curiosity made me pick it up, but I hardly looked at it then, just slipped it into my bag and kept walking. I was already late for school.

That night, I stayed up too late, drawn into the stiff, yellowed pages filled with slanting, crabbed writing. When the orphanage lights when off, I crept to the window to read in the dim glow of moonshine and the street-lamp's feeble orange flame. It wasn't until the sky was grey-pink with dawn that I turned the last page and crept back to my bed. I dreamed of names then, and, sleeping, matched them with faces.

Meliara. Vidanric. Galdran. Russav. Flauvic. I could feel them in my mind, bright, unattainable jewels. What would it be, to learn magic, have adventures, fall in love? And how could I ever learn when I was stuck, an orphan. I would grow up to be just like everyone else in this tiny river town, small-minded and incurious. How many times had Matron Springley scolded me for daydreaming?

But sometimes I felt that the dreams were all that kept me alive.

"Get back here, Thorn, you little bitch!"

I ducked into the alley, heart racing, and wished that I could control my tongue. Calling Matthew a sadistic moron to his face was probably not the smartest thing I'd ever done. Even if he didn't know what sadistic meant, he'd understood the moron part just fine. I scampered though litter and old, brown leaves, breath already coming too fast. He was going to catch me. I tried to swallow the fear in my throat before it choked me. The sky was getting dark. Even if I got back to the orphanage without a beating from Matthew and the rest of his gang, I'd still have Matron Springley to deal with.

I slid in between two houses, climbed over a fence and half-jumped, half-fell into someone one's flower patch. I heard shouts from the alley.

"When I catch you, I am going to cut out your tongue!"

I opened on the other side of the yard, slipped through it. I could still hear Matthew yelling in the alley, and now I couldn't remember what I'd been afraid of. He hadn't even figured out that I'd climbed the fence.

"Moron," I whispered over my shoulder. I walked to the end of the lane I'd stumbled into, hardly more than a gap between two rows of houses. At its end, a stairway led down to the river, dark as the overcast sky. The sound of the water carried away Matthew's shouts.

It was still. It was very dark.

Something shifted in the shadows, and I spun around.

"What's this?" asked a disembodied whisper. I tried to step back, found only air behind me. The stair.

"Don't be afraid." A shadow stepped from the wall, a deeper dark against the dark houses. "Come closer, little dyranarya." Not a harsh voice, or an unpleasant one. I took half a step.

"Who are you?" My voice wouldn't go above a whisper. The silhouette wavered against the houses, grew larger, closer. The sky was too dark too see, and I could imagine a web of black velvet, closing, blocking off light and air until…

"I am called Siamis. Come with me, child. I can show you things you'd only dream of here." A hand reached out for mine.

"Come with me to Norsunder." His fingers closed around my wrist. I felt the net of darkness tighten until I couldn't breathe and something exploded behind my eyes.

My scream cut the darkness, slashing it to moonlit ribbons as I threw myself backwards into space. I had just enough thought left to roll into a ball before I hit the steps.