When we finally stop, it feels like we've been driving for an eternity.

Every minute, the weather turns worse. Not the best driving conditions, especially on a motorcycle. It's been like this for days, though. Rain comes, seemingly from nowhere, the clouds rolling in within minutes. Michigan is not exactly known for it's earthquakes, but we've had five in the last week alone. The school and the surrounding area were the only haven in this crazy weather mess. It’s not smart to be traveling anywhere right now. I feel like pointing all of this out to Brendan, but I doubt he'll actually take it under consideration.

My legs feel frozen from the constant beating of the wind. I'm thankful Brendan at least let me wear his jacket, because it's keeping me somewhat warm. He grabbed another one before we left, so I don't feel as bad about holding on to this one. Not that I should be feeling bad about any of this. He's practically kidnapping me and, surprisingly, I’m going along with it.

We pull into a gas station in the middle of nowhere, and Brendan parks in front of a gas pump. I disentangle myself from his body, my legs numb from sitting like that for hours. I take off my helmet, swiping at the hair that keeps blowing into my face, and study my surroundings. There are trees as far as I can see, the only light is that of the building to my right. It makes me nervous, being so far away from everything, from civilization, but I'm putting on my brave face. I don't want Brendan to see just how scared I am.

I turn to him as he's suddenly standing right in front of me. I let out a little squeak, and he gives me that knowing grin that I really want to wipe right off his face. Before I can say anything, his hand is on my hair, pushing it out of my face and I forget to exhale. What is it about him that makes the normal functions of my body go on the fritz?

"You should go inside, warm up a little and get some food. I'll be there in a second."

It's not a request, but it's not quite a command, either. I can't really decipher the tone behind his words, and it piques my curiosity. He turns away before I can voice the question ringing in my mind. Having no other choice, I head for the inside of the store.

When I walk in, the guy behind the counter doesn't even glance up from his magazine. He looks ancient, and I wonder briefly how long he's been here. Not that it truly matters. At all. But my brain isn't exactly working rationally at the moment, so maybe it's no surprise random thoughts keep popping into my head.

I head toward the drink aisle, looking for something to quench my sudden thirst. I stare at the selection as if I've never picked out a drink before. I'm not sure what's wrong with me, my head's feeling lighter and lighter by the minute. Turning away, I almost stumble to the front.

"Excuse me, where are your restrooms?"

The man behind the counter glances up briefly, reaches under the counter, and places a key in front of me. He points to my right. I grab the key and make my way to the ladies room. I'm lightheaded, confused, and there is a ring of colors around my vision. All of it hits me from seemingly nowhere.

When I stumble into the restroom, I almost face plant on the floor before catching myself against the closest sink. I glance up, shocked to see how pale I am. How different I look. My hair is a squished chaos, my eyes carry dark circles under them. The makeup I so carefully applied earlier this evening is now a smeared mess. I can't believe Brendan has seen me this way. I bark out a laugh at the irrationality of my thoughts. Turning the water on, I splash the cool water over my overheated skin. Reaching for a paper towel, I scrub at what's left of my eyeliner and mascara, my eyes feeling better instantly.

Then, before I can do anything else, a pain sharper than I've ever experienced before shoots through my brain, making me cry out. I drop to my knees, my legs no longer strong enough to hold my weight, my hands clawing at the pain in my head. I scream, shutting my eyes as tightly as I can, hoping to stop whatever this is.

Images assault me.

I'm in a room full of color and sounds. I'm uncomfortable, the clothes on my back binding me in a way that suffocates me. I glance down and find myself in a gown of the darkest purples, darker than I have ever seen. A voice calls out to me, and I turn to watch a man with long gray hair make his way toward me. He smiles in a way that doesn't really reach his eyes before he takes my hand. I hear another voice calling my name, this voice familiar and soothing. I turn around and I'm snapped back to reality.

"Calista!" The voice pushes through the fog in my mind, and I know it’s Brendan.

He's here and he's holding me in his arms. I twist and turn, the pain still overwhelming my senses, but I'm coming back.

Slowly, I'm coming back.

"Cal, hey, come on, zaichik. You're okay. You're okay."

His voice calms the storm within me, and as suddenly as it came, the pain is gone. I open my eyes to find Brendan's face inches from mine. I'm half cradled in his arms, my head in his lap. The look of confusion and worry is plain on his face and, for some reason, that brings tears to my eyes. I shut them quickly, hiding the emotion there and try to sit up.

"Hey, take your time." He holds me as I shift to a sitting position, staying close. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," I state after a moment, my voice sounding raw even to my ears. He studies me for another second before coming to a decision.

"Come on, we need to get you something to drink. And eat. You're exhausted."

"What was that?" I mumble as Brendan hauls me to my feet. I'm disoriented, the aftershocks of the pain still ringing through my system, but I’m keeping it together better than I thought I would.

"I don't know, Cal. I really don't know." His voice catches and I glance up to find his worried gaze on mine. He's terrified. I can see it plainly on his face before he fights to mask it. Some part of me wants to comfort him. Fiercely. I place my hand on his arm, feeling those impressive muscles tense at the contact.

"Hey, I'm okay."

It's the best I can do, but I think it's the confidence behind my words that calms him a bit. We make it out of the bathroom, his arms still around me, and I don't feel any urge to pull away.

When he deposits me at the front, the man behind the counter barely glances up. I wonder if he heard my screams. Brendan did, didn't he? And he was all the way outside. Yet, the old man doesn't seem to blink when I lean against the counter while Brendan races over to get me some food.

Coming back with bags of chips and a few hot dogs, he places them on the counter before going back for drinks. He returns with mostly bottles, but he also managed to grab an assortment of candy. I give him a questioning look, but he ignores me, paying for the items before reaching for me again. I let one of his arms wrap around my waist, and then he leads me outside.

"Let's eat before we go anywhere."

I nod, but as we sit down on the curb in front of the station, I can't shake the chill that runs over my skin, a chill that has nothing to do with the weather outside.

"What is it?" I turn to find Brendan studying me intently. At first, I don't want to say anything, but he continues to watch me.

"I don't know. I don't feel … right, sitting here,” I say, but I can't explain more than that.

He doesn't hesitate. Without a word, Brendan is on his feet and pulling me along with him.

"Here" —he thrusts a bottle of green tea in to my hands— "drink some of this and let's go."

He doesn't wait for me to say anything but grabs my hand tugging me along. When we stop in front of the bike, I gulp down a few sips of the tea, the taste at once making my body hum. I take another sip, tasting it more intensely than I've ever tasted anything before. I gasp and catch Brendan's knowing gaze. But there's no time for questions right now. I just want to get away from here.

Placing the bottle back in the bag, I grab the helmet and mount the bike. Wrapping my arms around Brendan is the most natural thing now.

I hold him close, letting him whisk us away.

* * *

The feel of the wind against my skin is like a calming lullaby. I hold on to Brendan, trying to push away the aftermath of memories tearing through my mind. There is an undercurrent hidden in the simplicity of seeing myself in a ball gown. It speaks to me on a level I do not understand just yet.

When Brendan stops the bike on the side of the road, I get off as if on autopilot. I stand to the side as he walks the bike farther into the woods, grabs our stuff, then reaches for my hand. I look at it for a moment before taking it in my own. The contact is simple, yet much needed, solidifying the situation. We head into the forest in silence. Any normal person would be terrified, but I'm not.

I'm calm.

Reserved.

Fine.

Brendan stops when we come to a small clearing amongst the trees. Dropping my hand, he bends down to rifle through his duffle bag. He produces a thin blanket, spreading it out in front of us, then settles on it before proceeding to pull the food out of the bags. This man is prepared for anything it seems. I'm still standing in front of him, so he reaches over and drags me down to the blanket. The possessive show of force seems to snap me out of my daze.

"You could ask, you know?" I growl at him.

"I could."

Annoyed, but too tired to play his game, I roll my eyes and tuck my legs under me, pulling on my skirt. Finally settled, I reach for a bag of chips. Neither one of us speaks as we devour the food. I seem to be a lot more hungry now, with more frequency. At the moment, I have to work at keeping my mouth shut because everything I eat, the taste of it, is intensified on my tongue. I can feel Brendan watching me out of the corner of his eye, and I know I can't fool him into thinking nothing has changed. The food is so much more now, I'm not sure I'll ever be used to the intensity of the taste. I have a million questions on the tip of my tongue, but I don't ask. Not just yet.

"We'll stay here tonight. The rest will do you good,” Brendan finally breaks the silence as I finish off the bottle of green tea he gave me earlier. I almost choke on it going down.

"What do you mean we're staying here? We're in a middle of a forest!" A fact that might've escaped me until now. The clearing we're in is surrounded by trees, and we're tucked away from the highway, but I’m not exactly prepared to sleep in the woods.

"Cal," Brendan's voice is soothing, something I feel like he perfected just for me. "Sleeping outside will help you. As volshebniki we're particularly attuned to the plant life in this dimension. It helps us replenish out strength. Our majyk. It'll help you unlock the inner parts of your heritage."

“So, what? I cuddle with the trees and I get my superpowers back?" I say, making a very un-ladylike noise at the back of my throat which makes Brendan raise his eyebrows in amusement.

"Well, I was thinking you could cuddle with me. But if you prefer the trees, by all means, go right ahead."

I throw a glare his way, and he sobers up instantly, raising his hands up in surrender. There is some familiarity to our teasing, and not just from the time we’ve spent together at college. I remember thinking this when we finally started hanging out at school, how easily he could read me, how automatic my responses were to him. It's so much more now.

"Do you want to talk about what happened at the station?" he asks softly, bringing me out of my quiet musings.

I don't. I've been trying not to. I don't want to think about it, because just thinking about it makes me unbalanced. Brendan doesn't push, just sits next to me quietly, waiting for me to make a decision. I’m not ready, and I think he sees that on my face because he speaks up.

“Would you like to hear a story?”

“What?” I ask, baffled by the sudden switch in the subject.

“A story. You used to love hearing me tell stories from our childhood. It always helped you relax,” he adds that little part as an afterthought, as if unsure of what I’ll think about it, but surprisingly, it’s the right thing to say.

“Yes, I’d like to hear a story.”

Brendan beams at me, and I can’t help but smile back. He settles a bit more comfortably on the blanket, his eyes in a far place look as he begins to speak, “Once upon a time there lived a king with three sons. He had a great kingdom, but his pride laid in an orchard, where a tree with golden apples blossomed. One day, he realized that the golden apples were being stolen, so he commanded his guard to watch day and night to catch the thief. They watched and they waited, but couldn’t catch him.”

His voice is soothing, calming my nerves instantly, bringing with it the feeling of home. Even without my memory, I know we’ve been here before and it’s a place I loved to be. My worries seem to diminish as I listen to the story unfold in front of me like a movie.

“The king was so upset,” Brendan continues, “that he lost his appetite. His sons tried to comfort him, but he wouldn’t have any of it. So the eldest son decided he would go guard the tree himself. He told his father not to worry, he’ll find the thief and bring him to justice.

“So the eldest son went to the tree early in the evening but couldn’t find anything. Getting sleepy, he laid down on the grassy bank and soon fell asleep. The next morning the king asked if his eldest son had any good news for him. But the eldest son replied, ‘I did not sleep at all, I did not close my eyes, but I saw no one and no one came by.’

“The next night, the second son went to guard the orchard. But he too slept all night and the next morning told his father, ‘I did not sleep at all, I did not close my eyes, but I saw no one and no one came by.’

“Then, it was the youngest brother’s turn. He was so anxious that he wouldn’t even sit down. In the middle of the night, he saw a bright light coming from the orchard and followed it to where the tree was. Coming upon it he saw a great Firebird sitting among the apples, pecking at them. He tried to catch the Firebird, getting ahold of it by the tail, but the Firebird flew away, leaving only one tail feather behind.”

Brendan is getting animated now as he tells the story; his face lights up in a way that I’ve never seen before. He’s happy telling the tale, content with the familiar words and my heart is bursting with the warmth it brings. I lie on my side, keeping my hand under by head, my eyes fastened on Brendan.

“The next morning the youngest son told the king about the Firebird. The king thought it over and decided to send his sons to find the Firebird and bring it back to him. So the three brothers set out on horseback, each going their own direction. In his travels the youngest prince came upon a fork in the road, with a pillar and words written on them ‘If thou goest straight, thou will be cold and hungry. If thou goes to the right side, thou will be safe and sound, but the horse will be killed. If thou goes to the left side thou will be killed himself, but the horse will be safe and sound.’ The youngest prince decided to go to the right, for if his horse be killed, he could still continue on.

“So the youngest prince traveled on and came upon a big grey wolf. The wolf said, ‘Why have you chosen the right, young prince? For you know your horse will be killed.’ Before the young prince could answer, the big grey wolf tore the horse to pieces and took off into the trees.

“The young prince mourned the loss of his horse, but he continued on his journey. After some time walking, exhausted, he settled down to rest and the big grey wolf found him thus. He asked the young prince about his journey and the prince replied, ‘My father has sent me to ride through the world and find the great Firebird.’

“‘You could ride for years, from one end to the next, but you would never find the Firebird,’ the big grey wolf told the prince. ‘Only I know where the Firebird is.’ The big grey wolf felt bad for killing the prince’s horse, so he told him to get on his back and took the prince to the castle where the Firebird lives.

“The castle was big and great and the grey wolf told the prince, ‘Climb over the wall and up into the tower. The guards are sleeping and the Firebird is in a golden cage, hanging in the window. Take up the Firebird, but do not touch the cage.’

“The prince did as he was told, but when he saw the golden cage, he couldn’t help himself and took it as well. An alarm sounded and the prince was captured and brought before the king.

“‘Why are you here?’ the king asked.

“'I am here for the Firebird, who has been stealing golden apples from our orchard.’

“'If you have asked,’ the king replied, ‘I would have given the Firebird to you. But now, you are in my service. Ride to the next kingdom and find me the horse with the golden mane. Bring the horse to me and you can have the Firebird.’

“‘Why have you taken the cage when I told you not to?’ asked the big grey wolf of the youngest prince.

“‘I saw it and I could not help it. Forgive me, big grey wolf.’ And the grey wolf did.

“So the youngest prince and the big grey wolf rode to the next kingdom and to the king’s castle. The big grey wolf said to the young prince, ‘Climb over the wall and into the stables. The guards are sleeping and the mare is in the pen. Bring the mare but do not take the bridle.’

“The youngest prince climbed over the wall and into the stables. He found the horse, but when he saw the golden bridle with jewels, he forgot what the big grey wolf told him and took that as well. An alarm sounded and the youngest prince was caught and brought before the king.

“'Why are you here?’ the king asked.

“‘I came for the horse with the golden mane, so that I can bring it to the king in the next kingdom, who will give me his Firebird.’

“‘If you had asked,’ the king replied, ‘I would have given you the horse. But now, you are in my service. Ride to the next kingdom and bring me the princess Helena, then I will give you the horse and the bridle.’

“‘Why have you taken the bridle when I told you not to?’ asked the big grey wolf of the youngest prince, when he returned to him.

“‘I saw it and I could not help it. Forgive me, big grey wolf.’ And the grey wolf did.

“So the youngest prince and the big grey wolf rode to the next kingdom and there the prince met the princess. The princess was the most beautiful creature the youngest prince had ever seen and they fell in love. They rode back to the king with the horse and the youngest prince grew sad.

“'Why are you sad?’ asked the big grey wolf.

“‘Because I feel in love and now I must give up the princess for my foolishness.’ The prince was brokenhearted that his greed had brought him to this place. The big grey wolf saw the change of heart in the youngest prince and took pity on him.

“‘Do not worry, young prince. Hide Princess Helena away and I will go in her place.” Then, the big grey wolf said a majyk spell and turned into the Princess Helena. He was presented to the king as is and the youngest prince received his reward. After the youngest prince and his princess rode away, the big grey wolf ran away from the king and found the prince and princess in the next kingdom.

“Once again, the youngest prince was sad and once again the big grey wolf took pity on him. He took the place of the mare and then he took the place of the Firebird, until the youngest prince had it all. The youngest prince returned to his kingdom with the princess, the golden mare, and the Firebird in his golden cage. But when he was close to the castle his brothers ambushed him and tried to kill him out of jealousy, wanting the princess, the mare, and the Firebird. The youngest prince told the brothers to take it all from him, for he didn’t want any harm to come to his bride and the creatures he’d collected. His heart burst at the thought of any of them losing their lives for him. He realized he had been as greedy as his brothers, and he didn’t want his mistake to be paid for with the life of his beloved. But once again, the big grey wolf was there and he saved the youngest prince, taking pity on him. The big grey wolf rescued the princess, the golden mare, and the Firebird from the brothers, shredding them to pieces with his teeth. The youngest prince told his father the king of his adventures and although the king mourned the death of his sons, he rejoiced in his youngest. For the youngest had became a better man, and the big grey wolf saved him. And the youngest prince and princess Helena lived happily ever after.”

After Brendan finishes the story, I don’t know what to say. His voice has lulled me into a comfortable state, my mind at peace for the first time in hours. He’s watching me, waiting for a reaction, but the only reaction I have is to lie here comfortably, letting the memories of the life before take root in my mind.

I have heard this story before, I have heard it told to me, but it’s only a fleeting knowledge in the back of my mind, not the ultimate truth. I can find the moral in it, the parallels in my own life to that of a young prince on a quest. But a part of me fears that I’m more like the young prince at the beginning of the story than that of the end. I’m not sure where the thought comes from, but there it is. I push it away, the need for a different kind of a conversation rising in me.

His story has calmed me enough that I can talk now, but I stay quiet for a few more minutes before speaking up.

"I think it was a memory,” I finally say, turning to face him just in time to see confusion flicker over his face. "I was in this garden, dressed in a purple ball gown. And there was a man. He had really long gray hair."

Brendan's face grows darker for a split second, before the image is gone and I'm left wondering if I've imagined it. But no, he's thinking something over. I can tell by the look in his eyes, that calculating daze that Jemma has mentioned she'd seen me wear. I've never understood what she meant until now.

"What is it?" I ask when he doesn't say anything.

"It was a memory. The man you saw, he's the king of our realm, our ruler. The dress—“ He clears his throat, shifting in his seat. "I think you wore that to the last Summer Solstice. Before you came here." He glances away, fidgeting.

"You remember what kind of a dress I wore?" I ask.

"Well, yes. I'm trained to be very observant."

He's uncomfortable with that statement, and there's more to it than he says. I grin without realizing I'm doing so, and when he glances at me, he rolls his eyes and stands. "Whatever, Cal."

The coldness of an uncertain reality brought on by the images of my memory diminish, for just a second, and I can breathe easier.

"Did you remember anything else?" Brendan asks, and this time his question doesn't send a stab of panic through me.

"No. That was it, before I heard your voice calling me through the pain." I shudder at that memory. "Is it always going to be like that?" I'm almost afraid to ask.

"I don't know,” he says, settling onto his knees in front of me. "I've never seen anything like what's happened to you. Your memories should've never been erased in the first place. I have no explanation for why they were or what's happening now." He takes my hands in his, and I know he can feel how cold and clammy they are.

"We'll figure it out, Calista. Whatever happens, you're not alone. We're in this together."

I don't tell him, but those are the most perfect words he could've said.

“Thank you for the story, Brendan,” I half whisper, the intense look in his eyes making my heart thud in awareness.

He nods, extracting his hand from mine, and stands to walk the perimeter of our little camp. I watch him for a moment, not sure what to do next. I can’t take this tension between us, not when my mind is jumbled mess.

“So, explain this whole majyk being replenished thingy,” I demand, sitting up and smoothing out my clothes once more. I’m getting colder by the minute and even more apprehensive about sleeping outside.

"Thingy? Very eloquently put." He smirks. The laughter in his eyes doesn't last because I'm sure he can see the frustration written all over my face. I have the sudden urge to hold on to something—anything—and I reach out with my hand. When my fingers extend toward the ground, I yelp at the sudden contact with the bush. It has leaned out to me, wrapping itself around my hand like a set of fingers would.

"Umm, Brendan?" I hate that my voice quivers, but I'm not exactly used to plants acting alive. He spins around at the sound of fear in my voice, but then exhales in relief when he notices the plant around my hand. Kneeling in front of me, he moves his fingers over mine and the plant uncurls from around them, reaching for him.

"This is nothing to be afraid of," Brendan speaks softly, as if afraid he's going to spook me. "She reacted to your heightened emotion. You were agitated and she wanted to sooth you."

"She?"

"Yes, she. Lindera Benzoin. Most commonly known as Spicebush. They're part of the native shrub family in this part of the United States."

"Awesome biology lesson, Brendan. Still doesn't explain why you call it a she or how 'she' wanted to sooth me." I'm getting agitated again, and I'm a little afraid the plant will reach for me, so I stand, moving away from both Brendan and it. I watch him as he caresses it as if it's a pet, the leaves dancing with grace against his touch, before coming to stand in front of me.

"I told you our majyk is strong when it comes to the natural world. The plants are part of that thin line between our world and this one. Tell me, when you feel upset or tired, do you go outside?"

My eyes fly to his, because it's exactly what I do. Jemma still comments sometimes when all I want to do is go sit in the grass in our courtyard.

"You do, don't you?" His eyes flash. "It's why at the party, you went outside. Nature calls to you, even if you don't realize it, even if you don't audibly hear the call. Nature allows our inner self to calm, while letting us tap into the powers that are our birthright. Since your majyk is coming alive again, the plants are finally able to pierce through the veil."

I take a step away from him, processing what he's telling me. Sure, I've fought some giants, seen Brendan pull swords out of thin air, and had a mind blowing memory-vision. Yet, each piece of the puzzle is just as mind boggling as the first. However, there is one question that's been bugging me since the beginning. The descriptions he’s given me, everything he’s said, it sparked recognition.

“Does this … make us fairies?” I ask and am surprised when Brendan doesn’t brush my ridiculous question off.

“It’s the closest the human mind has come to naming us. There is definitely a bit of fey in us, and that is how we are portrayed in many of the human stories.”

I let that sink in, allowing myself to come to terms with that word. It’s true it’s easier for me to use the word fairy than the other one. After a moment, another question arises.

“So, this whole fey business," I begin, fidgeting with my shirt and trying not to look at Brendan. "Why don't I have wings?" His full belly laugh shatters the quiet around us.

"Brendan!" I exclaim, outraged.

"I'm sorry, it's just such a typical stereotype, I never expected it from you,” he manages between fits of laughter. "And you don't have wings because you're not Tinkerbell."

“Wait …” His words take me completely by surprise. "Is Tinkerbell real?" He gives me a look as if to say I'm crazy to even think so and it's my turn to laugh. However, my laugh comes out much less joyous and maybe slightly hysterical.

"Well, how am I supposed to know!" I throw my hands up in the air, trying to keep my voice calm but fail. "Up until a few hours ago I thought majyk only existed on TV and now there are 'she plants' reaching out to comfort me."

I'm panicking, and maybe it's a delayed reaction, but I can't seem to stop it. Thoughts race through my mind, everything that's happened invading my senses from all directions. My breathing grows shallow, my heart racing at the speed of light. Brendan is there instantly, his hands on my arms, holding me up before I can collapse.

But the moment he touches me air rushes out of me and he stumbles back at the impact as if I've physically pushed him away. The space between us shimmers for a split second before my head fills with blinding pain and I'm on my knees.

"Cal!" I hear him, but I raise a hand, warding him off before he can take a step toward me.

"Don't." My voice comes out strong, commanding. I bury my fingers into the ground, hanging on for dear life as the pain inside my head spreads through my body. The dirt moves under my hands, the grass and the bushes pulling themselves toward me, until I'm surrounded. I shut my eyes against the odd sensations racing through my skin, like a thousand needles poking me with precision. The panic recedes, and I open my eyes to stare at the darkened ground below me.

Where there was green grass there is now lifeless dirt. I raise my head, meeting Brendan's shocked gaze. It's not a look I've ever expected to see from him, but it's not surprising on some level. I let go of the ground as if it's on fire and the trees around me snap back to their upright position.

"Cal?" Brendan's voice is cautious, as if he's afraid he'll set me off again. I don't understand the switch he pulled. Or maybe I was the one who changed, but I don't want to do that again.

"I'm okay,” I reply, keeping my voice calm as best as I can. But the moment I say the words, I know they're true. There's a renewed strength rushing through my veins now, pumping the majyk I've forgotten I possessed closer to the surface.

"I'm okay," I say again, even as I feel that I will never be again.