Leaving Jemma with Maxwell is a lot harder than I thought it would be. Not that she minds spending a few days with a cute boy. Her words, not mine. But having her with me makes me feel more grounded. Maybe simply because she's a link to a life where I wasn't battling the forces of evil, half of which come from inside of me. I still haven't told Brendan what I've seen but I know I need to. I decide on the safe memory, and after settling Jemma in a guest room to rest, I follow Maxwell and Brendan to the library.

"You sure it'll be okay for her to stay here?" I ask, for what seems like a millionth time.

"Yes, Cali. She'll be more than safe here. You don't have to worry,” Maxwell replies, giving me a warm smile. His confidence is reassuring, but I still feel at fault for even putting Jemma in this situation, so it's not helping that much.

"Now, want to tell us what you saw?" Brendan asks as he settles against one of the chairs. I think he's been waiting for this for hours.

"I don't remember much of the flashes," I begin, pretending to concentrate and hoping like crazy that they can't see past my facade. "But I remember a meadow."

"Anything specific about the meadow?" Maxwell asks, his hand positioned over a notepad, ready to jot down anything necessary.

"Not really. It had tall grass, no flowers or anything."

"And?" Brendan prompts, and this is why it always scares me how well he can read me. He knows I'm holding something back.

"And there was a—“ I feel almost foolish admitting this, but they need some truth to keep the other hidden. "There was a huge cat there. He came and let me pet him, before falling asleep. Does any of this make sense to you?" I trail off at the end, watching them exchange a look. "What? What is it?" I ask, fully on alert now.

"Can you describe the cat?" Maxwell asks, his voice is too controlled to just be asking a casual question.

"What's going on?"

"Calista, just answer the question."

I turn to Brendan, trying to understand the tone of his voice, but I'm not as good at reading him. Studying both boys, I know for a fact that whatever I'm about to say about the cat will not sit well with them. And here I thought I was choosing the safer memory.

"He was huge. Probably the size of a horse. Maybe an elephant. And turquoise—“

"With white eyes." It's not a question, but I nod to Maxwell anyway. He exhales, his body going tense in the same moment.

“All right, someone explain what that means now." It's not a request, by any means, and they know it. It's Maxwell who replies.

"The cat is no ordinary creature. There are actual stories about him in this realm. He's called Kot-Bayun and he's one of the vilest creatures in our lands." My heart drops at Maxwell's words, but I try and remain calm, keeping my expression neutral. "He's known to lull good men to sleep and then devour them where they lie."

"He's a cat that eats humans?" I ask, pretending to be appalled, because a part of me is kind of excited by this fact. Not exactly sure how to deal with that, but here it is. My thoughts are really going to some dark places, and if I’m to keep myself in check, I need to watch that.

"Anyone with a good heart. Doesn't have to be human."

I take that in, contemplating on how that fits with the rest of my memories. I spoke to it like I knew it, like I was babying it.

"I don't understand. Why was he in my memory then?"

"It's been said that whoever hold its heart, can control his will. If a good person domesticates Kot-Bayun, he can heal any wound."

"And if an evil heart controls his?" I'm almost afraid to know the answer.

"He can destroy anyone in his path. He becomes the ultimate weapon,” Brendan speaks up, his eyes on me. I hold his gaze, unwavering, because now more than ever, I can't show weakness. I can't have them suspect I'm regaining more memories than I'm letting on. I need to figure out what all of this means before I share my concerns with them.

"So I was domesticating the cat?" I ask tentatively, hoping Maxwell has some magical answer for me. But when I look at him, he's just as confused as I feel. Taking a deep breath, I run my hands over my hair and wait for either one of the guys to speak, to give me some kind of an encouragement. When neither one of them does, I kind of want to scream at them.

"Okay, great. Another memory that leads us nowhere,” I state, heading for the chair and depositing myself in it without ceremony. It's getting harder and harder distinguishing what is real and what is not. If this memory means what I think it does, then everything about me is not what it seems. But how can that be true when everything in me tells me different?

"We'll figure this out, Cal,” Brendan says, coming down to kneel in front of me. He takes my hand in both of his, running his fingers over my skin in a soothing motion. "Whatever all of this means, we're getting closer."

"Are we?" I whisper, because I really don't know anymore.

"Yes."

The confidence in that one word makes me smile. But just as soon as my spirit lifts, it plummets.

"What about what happened at the dorm?" I ask, because I know we have to talk about what I did. Whatever that may mean for us.

"What did happen at the dorm?" Maxwell asks, breaking Brendan and me out of our staring contest. I turn my attention to the other boy as he watches me patiently, waiting for a reply.

"I'm not sure, Maxwell,” I begin, distracted by the patterns Brendan's fingers are making on the back of my hand. "I got scared of what would happen to Jemma and suddenly, I like teleported her to the courtyard. She was there one second, gone the next.

And then … I … I don't know what I did, but I blew them up. Right where they stood. They just exploded in front of us and before their guts could even touch us, it all evaporated."

"She's serious about that too," Brendan adds, when Maxwell just continues to stare at me.

"Okay then. I guess I have more research to do." He finally snaps into action.

"You mean, no theories?" I ask. I was really hoping for one where I’m some powerful angel of light and this is just part of the DNA make up. I need Maxwell to calm my fears, like he used to when we were kids. Now that I have a small memory of our friendship, I plan to hold on to that with everything I have.

"The only thing I can think of," Maxwell begins, reaching for one of the books on the desk, "is that your power is returning without any limits on it, or control. So you're manifesting great amounts, all at once." He trails off at the end, then grabs another book off the desk, disappearing into the stacks.

“That was actually a pretty good theory,” Brendan comments once Maxwell is gone. I have to agree. It's better than my theory of me being a conductor of evil majyk.

"You know," Brendan continues, "we really are going to figure out what's going on here. Whatever secrets are buried in that head of yours, we will unearth them and all will be right with the world."

I know he's trying to be encouraging, but his words don't bring the same comfort they used to. I'm afraid that when I remember everything, it won't be my saving grace. It will be my downfall.

“Are you ready to head out?” he asks, taking my silence at face value.

“Sure, let me check on Jemma and then we can go.”

I basically race out of the room, needing the distance between us, if only for a moment. I’m about to spend hours in the car with him and I’m not sure how I’m supposed to keep my theories to myself. He reads me way too well.

“Why do you look like I did when I found out my parents lost my pet rabbit?” Jemma asks as soon as I walk into the room. I thought she’d be sleeping and the relief I feel at the fact that she’s not is overflowing. I didn’t realize just how much I missed her until I see her sitting up in the bed, watching me with a concerned look on her face.

“They didn’t lose him, Jemma,” I reply, instead of answering her question. “He got out on his own.”

“I still blame them for not keeping the cage where I left it and you know it,” she says, reaching for my hand and dragging me down on the bed with her. “Can you please not change the subject and tell me what’s going on?”

I know there is no way I can truly deter her line of questioning and isn’t that why I came here in the first place? After all this time with the boys I need a few minutes with my girl.

“I can’t really explain it, Jemma,” I say, because I really can’t. How do I tell my best friend that I’ve become the cliche who falls for the guy who saves her life? Or that I fear that I’m evil? I don’t think they cover this in BFF 101.

“It’s Brendan, isn’t it?” she asks softly and my eyes fly up to meet hers. “Don’t look so surprised, Cali. I might not be as observant as you are, but I’m not blind.” She bumps my shoulder with her own and I sigh out loud, the weight of all these revelations crushing me from the inside out.

“He’s not the problem. I am,” I say, lying down on the bed and staring up at the ceiling. I feel Jemma shift beside me until she’s lying by me, before I hear her take a deep breath. She’s always been able to see me for who I truly am. I can’t ever keep a secret from her and that’s why having Brendan tell me that her friendship is a reality in my life was so important to me. She can tell if I’m good or evil.

“You know,” she finally says, breaking the silence. “Being magical doesn’t have to be a bad thing. I know you have a lot on your plate now and I’m beyond worried for your safety. But if anyone deserved a chance at greatness, it would be you.”

Her words bring tears to my eyes and I wipe at them angrily. If she only knew just how dark my heart has become, how frustrated I am all the time, would she say the same thing?

“I’m not some hero, Jemma. I don’t get to be the chosen one who saves the world. I can’t handle saving the whole world,” I whisper the words, but they thunder around us. Jemma shifts beside me before she’s on her elbows, peering down into my face.

“Then save your world. It’s all anyone can really ask of you. It’s all that you can ask of yourself.”

I look up at her, the girl who should probably be more scared than I am of the majyk world we discovered, but who isn’t thinking of herself. She’s thinking of me.

“Why are you so wise?” I say, a smile lighting up my face and she answers in kind.

“It’s part of my awesomeness, of course.”

She gets off the bed, pulling me with her. Once we’re both sitting on the edge, she wraps her arms around me, clinging to me with everything she’s worth.

“Just make sure you stay safe, okay? I can’t bear to lose you.”

I nod, since I don’t trust myself to speak and get off the bed. Pulling my hair into a ponytail, I turn to my best friend, hoping to portray more confidence than I’m feeling.

“I’ll be fine. Don’t cause too much trouble for Maxwell while I’m gone.”

“Who, me?” she replies, faking innocence. “That stud muffin and I are going to be just fine, sister friend.” I laugh, and the weight of my worries shifts just a bit.

It doesn’t take us long to get on the road after that. Maxwell reassures me that they’ll be fine, while Jemma stands behind him and makes kissing faces at the back of his head. She’s going to be a handful, but just like always, her antics lift my spirits.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Brendan comments fifteen minutes into the drive. It’s taking much of my self-control not to show just how agitated I am by every little thing. “You don’t have to worry. You’re not alone in this, remember.”

His words make me want to laugh, because truth be told, I am alone in this. I don’t think there’s anyone else like me and what I’m feeling is not what can be categorized as normal. With every memory, I become more and more irritated, more and more angry. The talk with Jemma seemed to calm me for a bit, but here we are again. When I look at the reflection of myself in the window, I don’t even recognize who I’ve become.

“Can you … Can you tell me a story?” My voice comes out soft, as if I’m not sure of my request. I want to demand for Brendan to do so and that scares me. I don’t want to be the angry commander. I want Brendan to want to tell me. When I glance at him, I find that he’s pleased. He smiles at me before his lips begin moving, his voice washing over me like a cool breeze.

“Once upon a time, in a village far far away, lived an old craftsman name Prokopich. He was known across the whole land of Urals as the best jewel maker and gem carver. Having no family of his own, he tried to take an apprentice to teach him his craft, but the boys were not talented enough. Until the day he met Danila.

"Danila was a scrawny little thing, weak and homely. He couldn’t work like the other boys and they made fun of him. An old woman took pity on him and taught him the ways of herbs and flowers and one day, she told him about the Stone Flower from Malachite Mountains. She said that it was the most beautiful flower in the world, but whoever found it would never be happy.”

His voice soothes the worries and doubts running through my mind and I settle more comfortably against the seat as Brendan sweeps me away with his words.

“The old woman sent Danila to live with the old craftsman Prokopich, so that Danila could learn all he could and he did. Danila was very talented, and with his talent he grew strong and handsome. One day, he was asked to make a vase from malachite and Danila worked and worked, but was always unsatisfied with the results.

“‘I sketch and I mold, but the vase is a vase and there is no living beauty in it,’ he grumbled. The old craftsman told him not to think like that. For those who thought like that ended up a servant of the Mistress of the Copper Mountain. Their work was magnificent, for they have seen the Stone Flower and understood the real beauty, the beauty of the stone.

“After that day, Danila would go into the woods to search for a stone for his own vase, but he was not satisfied. One day, while he was in the woods, he met Katya and they fell in love. They loved fiercely and all at once and Danila forgot all about his search for the beauty of the stone.”

A thrill of goosebumps rushes over my skin at Brendan’s words. The passion is evident in his every word, and when he speaks of love, my heart clenches at the intensity. I want to reach out and touch him, but now more than ever I know it’s not my place. Instead, I push the thoughts of us together away and wait for the end of the story.

“One day, Danila was in the woods and heard a whisper coming from the stones, ‘Look for the beauty of the stone in Serpent Hill,’ and so he did. The desire to see the Stone Flower flared up again and even as the wedding grew nigh, Danila couldn’t stop thinking about the Mistress of the Copper Mountain. He went back into the woods and the Mistress came to him and asked what he desired of her. And he said, ‘I desire to see the Stone Flower, so I may understand the beauty of the stone.’

“The Mistress of the Copper Mountain was pleased, but knew that only those who came of their own will could be admitted. So she said, ‘I could show you, but you can never go back again. If you see it, you have to come live in my mountain and you have to leave your loved ones behind.’ So enthralled was Danila with the idea of seeing the Stone Flower that he agreed and followed the Mistress of the Copper Mountain into her forest. And he was not seen again.

“Katya lived and loved quietly, learning all she could and grieving for the man she was to marry. Day after day she went into the woods to look for gems for her broaches and day after day she called out to Danila, her love. She started seeing him everywhere, but could never reach him in time. Finally, she cried out to the Mistress of the Copper Mountain to give her back her fiancé. The Mistress of the Copper Mountain finally gave in to her cries and appeared to Katya.

“‘I cannot give what cannot be taken,’ the Mistress of the Copper Mountain told Katya. ‘For only he can choose what he wants to do.’ Suddenly, there was Danila. She turned to him and said, ‘You have to choose, Danila. You go with her and forget what you saw here or you stay here and forget the life you had with her.’

“Danila looked at Katya and with tears in his eyes proclaimed, ‘I cannot stay here for I think about Katya every second of every day and she is more precious to me than the Stone Flower.’ The Mistress of the Copper Mountain saw the truth in his eyes and in his words and rewarded him with freedom and knowledge. ‘Because you have spoken the truth,’ the Mistress of the Copper Mountain said, ‘you will keep your memories and all that you have learned here and you will live a free life with your Katya.’ So Katya and Danila married and lived happily ever after.”

I’m quiet for a long time after he finishes the story, the truth of it ringing loudly in my ears. Greed brings the downfall of people and majyk alike. From everything I’ve been told and the pieces of my life I remember, it is greed that drives both sides of the chessboard. With me caught up in the middle.

“You know,” I finally say, “your stories are kind of terrible.” Brendan chuckles at my words and there’s a warm glow inside of my chest at the sound.

“They kind of are,” he agrees, “but they’re kind of beautiful too. Danila gave in to his selfishness, but in the end was given a second chance, which he took. It’s that choice that makes the story worth telling.”

“Ever the romantic,” I grumble, turning to stare out of the window because I can’t make myself look at Brendan and not feel anything. “So, you believe in second chances?” I’m not sure why, but the answer to that question is all I want in life.

“Of course I do,” he replies, and I hold on to those words with every fiber of my being.

* * *

The sun is setting when we pull onto the main street of Flushing, Michigan. We don’t talk much after the story, my mind and body tired from the constant battle. But I couldn’t have waited any longer for the trip. I knew I couldn't sit around for another few days or so, looking for answers in books and spells when I had a solid lead. Wherever it came from.

The town is tiny compared to the metropolis I'm used to, but it feels right somehow. I feel like I know these buildings, like I've walked these streets. There are no motels in the immediate area, so we drive about eight miles to a town close by. It's the best plan we can come up with at the moment. It's been almost 48 hours since we slept and my memory flashes have worn me out more than I'd like to admit.

The moment we're through the doors of our motel room, I collapse on the bed. Brendan follows in more slowly, doing a sweep of the premises before coming back in. He smirks at me spread out on the bed, my legs hanging off the side, but I don't even care. I'm so exhausted, all I want to do is sleep. I made myself stay awake on the way here, just in case anything happened, but now I’m losing the battle fast. I try to raise myself long enough to remove my shoes with no luck. Brendan chuckles and suddenly I feel his hands on my legs. I jerk to an almost sitting position and his chuckle turns into a laugh.

"Easy does it, milaya. Let me help you." His voice soothes my nerves, so I lie back down, watching him tug the boots off my feet. I don't have to ask for a translation of the foreign word, the way he says it speaks of familiarity that makes my heart speed up in awareness. For some reason, I find the gesture of him taking off my shoes way too intimate, making my body heat up instantly. His hands feel strong and sure on my ankles, making my mind wander into restricted territories. Closing my eyes, I can't help but think of other places his hands can work their majyk.

Once my shoes are off, he doesn't remove his hands from my ankle but begins a slow and mesmerizing process of unknotting the tension there. Carefully, his hands dance farther north, working out the kinks. The tension I didn't know I carried in my legs begins to unwind, a sigh of pure bliss escaping my lips. I don't have to open my eyes to know he's watching me. I lie perfectly still, afraid any movement will ruin whatever tranquility seems to have settled over the room.

Brendan's hands freeze just shy of my knees, and I open my eyes to see him studying me. He's seeking some kind of permission and I realize I want to give it to him. He must see it in my eyes, because he reaches over, lifting me up into a sitting position. Peeling the jacket slowly off my shoulders, he places it on the bed next to us. Getting to his feet, he settles down behind me, his hands on my shoulders.

Tentatively, his fingers glide over the skin exposed at the base of my throat and neck.

Exploring.

Mending.

Remembering.

I don't know where that last thought comes from, but it makes me gasp.

"You okay?"

I nod and he places his hands back on my shoulders, curling them around my skin. When his fingers begin to move in sync with a song I can't hear, I turn to mush. My whole body relaxes in an instant, his hands the only thing keeping me upright. I sigh with contentment and I don't have to turn around to know he's smiling. It's like I can feel it against my skin.

That ever present connection flares up between us and for a second I wonder if it's a visual thing. If I turn around right now, will I be able to see the threads pulling us together?

It's Brendan and me.

Me and Brendan.

Us against everything.

I lean back, without realizing what I'm doing and instantly Brendan's arms snake around my middle. He allows me to settle against him, his face in the space where my neck meets my shoulder. I feel him inhale, like my skin is the very elixir of life he needs, and the tension seeps out of him, disappearing into the void. No words are spoken, no explanations or questions are uttered. This is what we were both searching for, this is us, in our most primitive state.

The sweet essence of his touch is all the wonder in the world. His arms fit around me as if they were created just for me. For a moment, there is no war, no majyk, nothing. Just us. For the first time in weeks, I feel like everything in my life is exactly where it's supposed to be. That I am where I'm supposed to be.

It's as if we've been traveling nonstop, and now, we've finally come home.

* * *

We fall asleep tangled in each other; I wake up wrapped in his arms.

I find that it is the sweetest treasure waking up next to him. Last night, we didn't talk, we just stayed. I guess we fell asleep somewhere in between. I know he's awake the moment I shift my weight. We lie there for a second, both of us afraid to shatter what peace we've found. It's my turn to read his mind, I guess. I feel the truth of it in my own being.

I'm the first to rise, and I don't look at him as I head to the bathroom. A part of me is afraid. Afraid that these feelings inside me will overcome any common sense I have left. Afraid that what I'm feeling is one sided. Because no matter how much I've tried to fight against it, I began falling for Brendan the moment he stepped back into my life.

I stare at myself in the mirror, studying the changes that have come over me. My hair, my skin, even my eyes are all brighter somehow. The purples in my hair is vibrant now, with streaks of blueish strands making an appearance. It’s like I'm getting that glow of majyk back into my system more and more each day. But there's also something else in my eyes, something I'm not entirely sure about. I run my fingers through my hair, strip, and get into the shower.

The water feels perfect against my heated skin, soothing the doubts and apprehension. I'm nervous about today. I want so much to have the answers I've been searching for, to make some kind of a progress in the madness that's become my life. I step out of the shower, wrapping a towel around myself.

I grab for my clothes, but before my fingers make contact, I'm pulled back into the furnace. I cry out, landing solidly on my knees, the images coming fast. I hear a shout, a door banging open, but I'm too far in.

I'm walking through the house, my fingers running over the worn wallpaper. The dog is right next to me, keeping a close watch on my movements. I enter the back room through hanging beads, the clinking as the beads come back together at my back is a familiar sound.

"I'm sorry it has come to this," a woman speaks from the other side of the room. I can't see her face, it's hidden in the shadows.

"I'm sorry too," it's me who's speaking now as I reach over, a leather bound journal in my outstretched hand. "You'll keep it safe." It's not a question. For some reason, questions are not needed. The woman takes the book before wrapping her arms around me.

"Yes," she whispers as I hug her back.

Then, I'm gone.

I come back to myself as a heap of emotions on the bathroom floor. Brendan is beside me, keeping my head cradled in his arms so I won't hurt myself. Concern is etched on his face, and I want to reach out and smooth the worry lines. But I'm still reeling. He picks me up in his arms, carrying me to the bed, and sits down beside me.

It's takes me minutes—what seems like hours—to regain my senses. The pain subdues, allowing me breathe easier, allowing me to think again. I don't pass out. I hold on to the memories, I hold on to the pain, I hold on to myself. There is work to be done.

I sit up, looking Brendan in the eyes and announce, "I know what we're looking for."