When I reached the second floor landing, I crossed to my door and pulled out my keys. Han Solo dashed forward as soon as I opened the door and stepped inside. He rubbed against my leg, and I patted his head, thinking of Jeremiah.
He needed me. Despite my inability to fit in with the human race, some of my talents made up for it. I could help people—I could help Jeremiah. But I couldn’t do it here. I had to go back to Faythander.
My stomach twisted in knots. Could I do it? Could I admit that I didn’t belong with the human race? In truth, I never had. My elven father had made sure of that.
“I have to go away,” I told Han.
He purred as he shifted from paw to paw.
“I’m going back to Faythander.” Saying it out loud scared me. I hadn’t been in twelve years. I knew my adopted family wouldn’t disown me, but would they be disappointed with me?
I remembered to leave a few extra scoops of kitty kibbles out for Han. My mirror sat on the counter. I opened it and stared at the screen.
The mirror was more than a tool for helping me diagnose patients. It was also my gateway to Faythander. I closed my eyes and inhaled a deep breath. Jeremiah needed me. What happened to him took precedence over my personal comfort. I pressed my hand to the glass and let my mind relax.
My stomach tightened. The feeling of leaving this world and entering Faythander could cause anyone to feel unsettled, though I had an advantage—I remembered both worlds when no one else could. The mirror’s glass warmed my hand as power flowed from it.
The floor fell away. Smells of my apple-spice air freshener disappeared. A tiny mewl came from a great distance. Dizziness made my head spin.
The scent of open woods filled the air. I opened my eyes, and the world teetered around me. I clutched the mirror to my chest and sat down before I collapsed. Taking several deep breaths, the ancient forest filled my lungs. I’d come home.
I glanced around the forest, wondering if twelve years had changed it. Trees as tall as cathedral spires spanned toward a sapphire sky. Their leaves remained a deep autumn red, even through the winter. A carpet of grass, softer than anything on Earth, cushioned me. Towering mushrooms circled the forest floor. The house-sized fungi grew in shades of fluorescent green, dark amethyst, and orange with brown spots; sometimes, I wondered if the Grimm brothers had stopped by here once or twice.
Nobbinflies flitted past me, their glossy, black bodies reflecting the afternoon sunlight. They looked like tiny cats with wings. Instead of tails, a plume of dark feathers fanned the air behind them. I held my finger out, and a nobbinfly fluttered close. It hovered, then settled on my skin.
Had I come home? I felt relieved it hadn’t changed. So much in my life seemed uncertain, always changing. But not here.
I gently shook the nobbinfly off my finger, grabbed my laptop off the ground, and stood. Sounds of nobbinfly wings brushed the air like thousands of dry cornhusks in the wind.
As I walked through the forest, memories came flooding back. I’d grown up here, run through these woods chasing maywelters or fairies or nobbinflies. Then, I would go home to my house on the mountain. I don’t think a child could have been happier.
As I followed the path out of the woods, the trees thinned, and soon I stood on the edge of a cliff that plunged deeper than the Grand Canyon. The valley extended all the way to the elf kingdom. Afternoon sunlight shone over the rocks and pits dotting the gorge. Far in the distance, I saw the spires of the elven city of Lauressa. Light-rails stretched away from it and crisscrossed the ground. The golden rails sparkled with the sun.
Elves had become more advanced than modern humans. They traveled on light-rails, a system more efficient than highways and gas-guzzlers. The cars that traveled the rails looked a little like Cinderella’s carriage, painted in gold. Except for the goblin lands, the light-rails would take you anywhere—free of charge, of course. The elves were too obsessed with a utopian lifestyle to charge anyone. And they’d even begun to explore space. I’d heard they were building a Mars colony. But they had magic to help them, so I suppose in that way, they cheated.
I scanned the horizon. Most people relied on the light-rails for transportation, but not long ago, unicorns, the Pegasus, and even some uncommonly friendly pixies were used for traveling. But I knew of a better way to cross the countryside.
My dragon figurine sat inside the mirror case. I clicked the case open, pulled out the statuette, and conjured the magic word—come—in my mind. The dragon scale inside it hummed with magic.
A warm breeze brushed my face, melting the chills I’d had from living in Galveston.
Minutes later, a gold dot sparkled in the distance. My heart leapt. As it drew closer, I heard a sound like the whooshing of Niagara Falls. Golden scales reflected the sun in a prism of colors.
I took a step back. Fan’twar, the sky king of Faythander, flew toward me. Dragon wings spanned from one edge of the sky to the other. Although he’d raised me, I still felt impressed by the sight.
The sky king beat his wings several times as he landed. I smiled as I stared into his topaz eyes.
“I’m glad you came, Fan’twar,” I said, feeling relieved to see him after all these years. “I thought you might have forgotten me.”
His laugh was a deep, powerful rumble that shook the ground. He leaned his head closer so I
