The creature moved again, and a fold of the material fell aside, revealing an infant’s dark, round face and large gold-flaked brown eyes. Black curls peeked out from the edge of the blanket. The infant’s mouth opened, her eyes squeezed shut, and her lips twisted. For a moment, Rosewood thought the baby was about to cry. Instead, the infant sneezed loudly and cooed with delight.
Rosewood smiled and confided to the others, “In the palace rose garden, I overheard the Empress and Emperor wishing for a baby, a little girl to name Nali. This must be her. The Goddess has answered their pleas,” she announced with wonder.
“What kind of monster is she, Rosewood?” another fairy asked, fluttering above the baby.
Rosewood scrutinized the creature, tilting her head, then shrugged. “Does it matter? She is Nali—our future Empress.” Rosewood grinned at the increasing number of fairies crowding around the baby, all curious to see the creature who would one day be the Empress of the Isle of the Monsters.
Yachats, Oregon:
Twenty-six years Ago
Seven-year-old Asahi Tanaka curiously peeked out from where he was crouched behind the long sofa and winced when his father slammed the front door behind him as he left. Asahi had hidden to listen to the conversation between his father and the man who had introduced himself as Aiko, his grandfather.
They had all just returned from Baba’s funeral, so today was already difficult without his father’s anger boiling over, but the moment Hinata Tanaka had entered the house, he began shouting at Aiko. Their conversation had quickly become heated—mostly because of his father’s refusal to listen to Aiko’s explanation of where he had been and what had happened to him.
Asahi tilted his head when he heard the tires of his father’s sports car burning rubber. Once again, his father had forgotten about him. Baba, Asahi’s grandmother, would have been upset if she were still alive. She always complained that his father drove too fast on the narrow winding roads around here.
Tears burned his eyes at the thought of his grandmother. When one escaped from the corner of his eye and ran down his cheek, he lifted his hand and wiped it away. Baba would have scolded him for crying over her.
“Asahi, I know you are there. Please come out,” the man sitting in the chair instructed.
Asahi slowly crawled out from behind the sofa and stood up. He stared at the man who looked almost the same age as his father. They looked so alike that Aiko and his father could have been mistaken as twins.
“Come, sit down so we can talk,” Aiko Tanaka gently requested.
Asahi stiffened his thin shoulders and lifted his head. He silently walked over and sat in his grandmother’s favorite chair. The pristine white doilies she had crocheted were draped over each arm of the green floral-patterned upholstery. He swallowed and remained still as his grandfather studied him.
Aiko sighed and looked down at the picture he was holding. Asahi looked at the photo too. It was an old picture of Baba, his father as a child, and Aiko—and Aiko looked the same as he did now.
“How… can you be the same person?” he asked in a faltering voice.
Aiko smiled at him. “It is a long story, one that I wish I could have shared with your Baba—and one I will share with your father in greater detail if he allows it. I want to share my story with you if you would like to hear it,” he said.
Asahi eagerly nodded. “Yes. I love stories. Baba shared lots of stories with me,” he shyly answered.
Aiko chuckled. “Your grandmother was a gifted storyteller. She would have loved this one. My story begins on a foggy morning forty years ago…,” he began, leaning back in his chair.
Asahi listened with wonder as his grandfather spoke of his unbelievable journey to another world, a world filled with magic, dragons, giants, witches, pirates—and monsters. The marvels of the Seven Kingdoms sparked Asahi’s imagination.
Darkness fell while they were finishing dinner. His grandfather paused and stared at him in silence, then twisted in his chair, opened a bag hanging from it, and pulled out an ornate dagger. At the top of the hilt was a small winged lion made of gold. Aiko held it lovingly in his hands.
Asahi stared in fascination at the strange symbols embossed on the thick leather sheath. His grandfather placed the dagger on the table in front of him and nodded toward it. Asahi’s attention remained fixed on the richly detailed lion at the top.
“This dagger was a gift from a dear friend. For years, I dreamed of giving it to your father, but I was unsure if I would ever return to Yachats,” Aiko softly explained.
Asahi tilted his head. “Baba said that father does not always appreciate the things he receives the way he should. She missed you. I liked when she told me stories about you,” he confessed.
Aiko smiled and pushed the dagger toward him. “Then I will give this magic dagger to you,” he said.
A knock at the front door forestalled what Asahi was going to say. He waited until Aiko was in the living room before he ran his fingers over the hilt of the dagger. Surprise washed through him when he saw the red-jeweled handle glow. He yanked his hand away.
The sound of his grandfather’s hoarse cry of denial drew him to his feet. Asahi walked over to the opening between the kitchen and the living room. He peered around the corner to see who was at the door. His heart hammered in his chest when he saw that a police officer was talking to Aiko.
“Where did it happen?” his grandfather asked in an unsteady voice.
“Along Highway 101. It appears he lost control coming around the curve and hit the guardrail. His car flipped over the edge of the embankment and went off the cliff. Someone reported that they saw it below. He died on
