I leaned forward. “You’ve been there. You’ve seen the dragons that you collect. You’re trying to remember, but until now, you didn’t know how.”
He shut his eyes. “You’re telling the truth?”
“I am.”
“I’ve told you my worst memory, and now you’re making fun of me?” Elmore snatched up his dragon statue and wrapped it in the newspaper. He shoved it back in the box, and then he did the same with the rest.
I kept my composure, knowing that at any moment he could get more agitated, possibly violent. No one believed me when I told them, but they didn’t have to. I opened my backpack and removed my mirror.
At one point, it had been a clunky, old-school laptop, but I’d made a few modifications, replacing the screen with an ordinary mirror and gutting out the keys and wires to replace the bottom with a velvet lining. Inside were my figurines: an elf, a dragon, a Wult, a pixie, and a goblin. The five races of Faythander. Each glowed with their respective magical colors, though only I could see this sort of magic. Dragon magic was green. The elf glowed blue; pixies were pink, and goblin magic was shrouded in gray.
Blue wisps of magic, the sort that could be seen by anyone, rose from the mirror. Elmore stopped packing and knit his brows. He didn’t speak as I turned the mirror to face him and removed my dragon statue.
“What are you doing?”
“This will help you remember.” I held my dragon out to him. He didn’t take it.
“Did someone put you up to this? Because I swear, if someone—”
“Elmore.” I said his name in a quiet voice, though I hoped he heard the intensity. “Your past is haunting you. You can’t tell me it’s not. Please. Take the statue.”
“What will happen?”
“You’ll relive your memories from Faythander. You’ll remember.”
He swallowed. “That’s all?”
I nodded.
His eyes didn’t leave my dragon statue. He exhaled a long breath, as if trying to convince himself I told the truth.
I couldn’t force him to take it. This part was up to him. I tried to put myself in his position. He’d been through years of therapy and never shared with his doctors what he’d shared with me. And now, in his mind, I mocked him.
All he had to do was touch the statue. It seemed simple, but was it?
Sweat beaded his brow.
He snatched my statue. As soon as he did, my mirror reacted. Blue Faythander light spilled out, sparkling with magic. Real magic. Usually, when a person saw Faythander magic for the first time, they were impressed. Magic resonated with a part of the brain that had never been opened before. It created a sense of déjà vu. They knew it was real the instant they saw it.
The mirror’s light became a dense fog as the magic engulfed us. Around us, the room disappeared.
“What’s happening?” Elmore breathed.
“The mirror will show us an image from your past.”
The fog burned away. I stood with Elmore in the dragon’s forest. Magic pulsed around us, in the trees, in the grass, from the giant stones down to the tiniest pebbles. With the infusion of magic, ordinary trees grew taller than Sequoias. The grass became velvet soft, like treading on moss. The sky became a brighter shade of blue. The leaves grew a deep emerald.
Magic transformed not only the plants, but also the animals, and all other living things. Soft flecks of blue twinkled under fern-like branches. Fairies. Their wings beat with a quiet flutter, like listening to the gentlest summer breeze.
Huge leaves formed a canopy around us, though I spied the ridged eyes and nostrils of a green landwalker sleeping beneath.
Sounds of whooshing wind disturbed the stillness. Before us, a portal of electric-blue magic formed. Elmore stepped back, his hands raised. I prayed he wouldn’t have a heart attack.
“It’s okay,” I said. “This is only a memory. Nothing can harm you here.”
The portal grew wider. It disappeared as a little boy stepped through. The boy’s feet sank into a carpet of moss as he stared at his new world with wide eyes. With his matted, dark hair, his bony arms and legs, I felt certain of his identity.
“Is that me?” Elmore asked.
The green landwalker rose from his resting place. I expected the boy to react with fear. He only stared up, his mouth agape.
For the most part, dragons resembled their earth-world portrayals, though I’d always found them more dinosaur-like than most artists envisioned. Like the extinct Apatosaurus, the landwalker stood on four feet, though evolution had given him talons and massive wings, which he tucked around his body as he lumbered toward the boy.
“A traveler from Earth Kingdom,” the dragon said, his voice deep and surprisingly gentle.
The boy continued to stare.
“You’ve come a long way from home.”
The boy didn’t move. The dragon leaned forward, his cat-like eyes a shade of yellow topaz. “Are you hungry, young one?”
He nodded.
The dragon cocked his head. “Aren’t you afraid of me?”
Young Elmore clenched his fists. I noticed the ceramic dragon clutched in his hand. Something inside the young boy must have drawn him to pick that statuette over the others—he must have felt a connection to dragons even before he came here.
“I’m not scared,” he said in his tiny voice.
The dragon smiled. Gentle claws encircled the boy’s waist. The landwalker lifted him up, and his voice, though it came as if from far away, pierced to the soul. “Joy will make you forget the sorrow that has brought you here. I will tell you my name, though someday you will forget. Remember my name, and you will remember Faythander.”
I heard a thump, and the memory disappeared. Once again, we sat in Elmore’s apartment. Dim, gray light
