I know I’m dreaming even before my other self makes an appearance. I remember this day, the first day of college. The day I met Brendan. I watch the events of that day play out in front of me like a movie, remembering the first time I’ve felt like an outsider in my own body.

"Are you sure we're heading in the right direction?" my roommate Jemma asked, studying her orientation package and not looking where she was going. I grabbed her elbow, pulling her out of the way of oncoming traffic just in time.

"Yes. I have a great sense of direction. Also, I studied that packet to death,” I replied, excitement bubbling close to the surface as I looked around the place that would be my home for the next four years.

College. It was finally here. There was nothing like the freedom of finally finding out who you were. Maybe I was late to the party, since a lot of people had that down by the end of high school, but it didn’t really matter. I was there, and I was going to rock at being a college student. Just like I'd always wanted to.

I heard Jemma’s giggle and turned just in time to see a group of guys walking by us. Having her as a roommate was a dream come true. We clicked the moment she walked into our dorm room. I didn’t click with many people, trust was not easily earned, but she was the first person in a while that walked into my life as if she belonged there. She had a way of making herself belong.

When we finally made it to the auditorium, we were not the last ones there. It looked like there was only about half of the class there, the rest still wandered around, trying to figure out where to go. Jemma and I found a seat somewhere in the middle and, as soon as we were settled, she started looking around.

"What are you doing?" I asked when she kept on turning and twisting every which way.

"Scoping out college boys, of course."

"Of course.” I laughed. I wasn’t blind. I'd seen quite a few good looking fellas walking around. College sure had a lot to offer.

I continued my own study of the room when I felt the seat next to me shift as someone took a seat. Even before I faced whoever it was, there was an otherworldly kind of a buzz which ran over my skin. When my eyes met that of my neighbor, an alarm sounded inside my head. No, not an alarm. A celebratory trumpet, as if I'd just returned home from months of being gone. So much more than with Jemma, the moment I met his gaze I was a puzzle piece falling into place.

"Hi, I'm Brendan,” he said. Those midnight-blue eyes fastened on mine, a small smile played on his lips as if he wasn’t sure of his welcome, while I tried to shake off the weird sensations rushing over my body.

"Hi!" Jemma called out from beside me, her attention on the boy. "This is Cali. She's usually more talkative than this."

My roommate bumped me with her shoulder, throwing a pointed look my way. But I just couldn’t seem to move past the feeling of familiarity enough to speak. Jemma's elbow connected with my arm once again, and I threw her an annoyed glare before turning to Brendan.

"Hi, sorry. Coffee hasn't kicked in yet." I tried on a self-conscious smile and he seemed satisfied with my answer. He leaned over, extending his hand to Jemma.

"And you are?"

“Jemma." My roommate beamed, shaking his hand. I could see he’d won serious points with her by that one simple gesture. He turned that brilliant smile on me next, a lot closer than he was before, and it was like seeing the galaxy for the first time. I was only glimpsing a tiny portion of who he was. I wasn’t sure why my mind was coming up with those assessments, but it was spewing off all kinds of information I wasn’t usually thinking.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, ladies," Brendan said, but he was looking at me. If I was anybody else, I would be a puddle of feelings on the floor. However, my ice walls were just barely melting, but melting they were.

"You too,” I managed to reply and that seemed to satisfy whatever Brendan was looking for, because with my words, he stood.

"Aren't you staying?" I blurted out, because a huge part of me wanted him to do just that. I almost berated myself silently but kept my face neutral.

"Not my scene, really. It was two years ago, when I was a freshman. See you later." He threw a wink our way and disappeared into the oncoming traffic of people. I tried to follow his movements, but he was already gone.

"Wow, Cali. An upperclassman just snuck into the freshmen orientation assembly to meet you. Impressive."

I didn’t reply, but I had to agree. Brendan was all kinds of impressive.

Even before I'm fully conscious, I know I'm lying on something comfortable. Opening my eyes, I find Brendan's face inches from mine. The memory of that first meeting and the feeling that follows are not diminished, even after all this time. He’s still as familiar as my own reflection. His gaze is full of concern and something else my mushed-up brain can't register. I stare at him, wondering if I'm still dreaming and then I realize I'm not. At the same moment, the memories of what happened come rushing back at me and I scramble to sit up.

"Easy does it.” Brendan reaches over, steading me as I try to keep myself from swaying. I take in my surroundings, finding myself in a small motel room. I'm lying on the only bed, with a table to my right and a TV stand directly in front of me. The paint looks dirty and old, the dim lighting making everything seem that much creepier. My head is reeling, but I push the nausea away and turn my focus to the boy in front of me.

"What happened? Where am I? What were those things? And you … What are you?" the questions tumble out of me. I try to stay upright, but it's harder than it should be.

"I said take it easy," Brendan repeats as I push at him to get out of the bed. Gently, he urges me to a fully sitting position, my skirt pulling around my thighs. My skin is dotted with goosebumps from the cold air moving through the room and I'm shivering. Brendan's arms come around me and with his help, I swing my legs over the bed, finally sitting up. Tugging at my skirt and hoping to regain some concept of modesty, I drop my gaze and focus on something besides the feel of his skin on mine. He waits for a moment then takes a seat beside me.

"How's the head?"

"Heavy?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?"

I manage to glare at him which seems to pacify him for the moment. Rolling my head to the side to relieve some of the tension, I try to wrap my mind around what happened. Being attacked is not something I'm accustomed to, and moreover, fighting is not something I've ever done before. Let alone with a sword almost the size of my torso.

"Is there anything you'd like to tell me?" I ask, not turning my head from where I'm staring at the wall. I realize that he didn't bother answering my questions, and it seems to be the standard when it comes to our interactions. He's always unnerved me in the strangest ways. Since the moment we met there was something about him that I couldn’t quite understand. He's like a memory I didn't know I forgot. Or an old jewelry box I picked up on a whim and after taking a peek inside found my favorite necklace. He was never a stranger like he should've been. Now, I'm in a motel room with the very enigma that has invaded my dreams for weeks.

I move to stand but don't make it far before his hands are on me again. This time landing on my thighs. I freeze at the heated contact and then I'm across the room in a flash without knowing how I got there. My mind must be more jumbled than I realize if I can't even take three steps without forgetting about it. I grip the only chair in the room, turning to glare at the boy who brought me here. I push the weird sensations aside and focus on the problem at hand.

"Are you sure you're feeling up to it?" he asks after a moment of silence.

I glance up at him as he sits on the bed, watching me carefully. He looks different somehow, as if I’ve put on a pair of glasses and he’s sharper than I’ve ever seen before. I must be losing my mind. Frustrated, I run a hand over my face, pushing at the hair that's fallen in the front.

"Oh, I'm more than ready. Start talking, Parnell."

He raises his eyebrows at my tone but doesn't comment. Instead, he levels me with his gaze and asks, "What do you remember?"

Not what I expected. If I was steady enough on my own I would stop gripping this chair and cross my arms in front of me to give him a visual representation of just how annoyed I am at the moment.

"What I remember," I begin, putting all of the annoyance into my voice, "is being approached by two incredibly strange and big men at a college party, who asked me about things I've never heard of, in a language I don’t speak, before trying to murder me and all my friends. I'm not done," I say, when Brendan opens his mouth to speak.

"The crazy looking things, yes things not people, because there is no way those creatures were human, which raises all kinds of other different questions, threatened me. Those creatures then chased me down an alley which you magically appeared in to drag me onto a roof, where you pulled a sword out of thin air and made me slice open said creatures before they too magically disappeared. Did I miss anything?"

Brendan opens his mouth to reply, but I interrupt again, “Oh, yeah. They cut me." I remember suddenly and glance down to find my arm wrapped. Brendan must've done it while I was out. I'll have to remember to thank him for that later if he doesn't turn out to be some crazy knife-wielding stalker. Feeling slightly better after getting that out of my system, I allow myself to cross my arms and glare at the boy sitting in front of me.

"Oh, am I allowed to talk now?" he asks, raising an eyebrow at my expectant look.

"I don't appreciate the tone, but yes, please,” I reply, not breaking my stance. I'm not sure where all this strength is coming from, but I'm holding onto it for dear life. I’d rather be this then a blubbering mess curled up in the corner. So, for as long as I can, I will hold on to the annoyance and yes, the anger.

"First of all, the creatures, as you call them, are the minions of the Shadowlands. They serve as soldiers to the darkness. As I'm sure you could tell, they don't exactly fit the standard profile of magical creatures, what with all the different pieces of species stitched up together to make one. As far as we know, they've been scientifically modified. We're not exactly sure by whom."

I want to interrupt and tell him that he's crazy, but surprisingly, I hold my tongue. Doesn't stop him from seeing my intentions, because he gives me a knowing smile before continuing on.

"What they’re looking for is Znaniye, which in loose translation means The Knowledge, and it is the center of our wisdom. It holds the power of the majyk, which is our inheritance. Not only that, it holds many of the secrets our kind has guarded for centuries. Like how to get in and out of the human realm without detection. That's a big one on the list and a power the Shadowlands want."

"I'm sorry, majyk? You're talking about majyk. Oh, I must have hit my head when I fell."

I turn away, trying to process what he's telling me but the logical parts of me refuse to believe what is staring me right in the face.

I mean, obviously something supernatural is going on considering I just fought with a blasted sword, but still. Stuff like this doesn't exactly happen in real life. I twist to tell Brendan that and find that he's no longer on the bed but right behind me. I fight the reflex to yelp and take a calming breath instead.

"I know it's hard to understand—“

"Believe."

"OK, it's hard to believe what I'm telling you, but I know for a fact that there is a part of you that feels like this is the ultimate truth."

"You're not serious, right?"

Even as I protest, I know he is. And he is right. Some part of me is shouting to stop being stubborn and accept the truth. But I'm a rational human being, I'm a history major for goodness’ sake. I like my facts cut and dry and laid out in front of me. A to B to C. Majyk is nowhere near the alphabet.

"Calista," Brendan interrupts my thoughts, taking a step forward and bringing himself dangerously close. "You have to try and remember who and what you are. I can tell you anything you like, but until you make a conscious decision to reach inside yourself and unlock the secrets buried there, it won't be of much help."

I close my eyes against his gentle voice, trying to force down the bubbling emotions racing to the surface within me, and turn away. His words are like keys to the doors I didn't know I had to open. I know I have to ask the question, but I'm terrified. It wasn’t the monsters or the fighting that finally brought that emotion to the surface. For the first time in my life, I'm genuinely terrified.

But that feeling, like so many I've experienced in the last hour, is not overwhelming. I expect it to be, and yet, I seem to have some control over it and I don't understand why. There's nothing left to do but ask.

“What … What am I?" the words come out whispered, but I hear them echoing off the walls in this small room. I feel Brendan's heat behind me as he takes a step closer, surrounding me in his presence. I wait for what seems like hours as he takes a deep breath before finally, finally answering.

"You are a Volshebnitsa, from the house of Afanasyev."