He trudged across the barren wasteland, aching at every joint. The snow fell swift and true, the storm holding everything for miles in its icy grip. But it would only get worse, if Nani was to be believed. He had to hurry. Seeing was becoming more difficult with every step, but his step was sure, and in his mind, the path was clear. Nothing could keep him from this task. Like a wave breaking on the shore, the building came into view. It was a short little concrete structure, with one door and one window, but that didn’t particularly matter. The real glory was underground. He approached the door and removed the key from his pocket. The wind howled in his ears like a homesick coyote. Heavens, it was freezing out here. His numb hands fumbled on the lock for only a moment before the door was swinging inward and warm air was spilling out. He took one step over the threshold. Then another. The door slammed shut behind him. He sighed. “You ready to leave yet, kiddo?” He asked, peering through the second door in front of him. On the other side, a flight of stairs descended into the beginnings of what he knew to be a large underground home. Some might think it would be ridiculous to stay behind the door. There was no way the child could hear him. But he knew she could. No reply came to him. He sighed again and removed the gun from another pocket before turning the handle and creeping down to face her. She sat in an armchair before an electric fireplace, legs crossed, hands folded neatly before her. The image of dignified, young beauty and grace. Or, it would have been if it weren’t for the rude scowl she wore and the countless knives suspended in mid air around her. All of them aimed at him, or more specifically, his face. “I stopped being a child the day you sent me down here to die.”

“Goodnight, Lilly.” “Goodnight, Mommy,” Lilly whispered up at her ceiling. The light flicked off and the door clicked shut. Above her, glowing fish swam across the darkness, chasing it off. A gift from Daddy on her fifth birthday. She watched those fish every night until she fell asleep, wanting nothing more than to be able to swim with them.

When Lilly woke up, she was quite surprised. She was not, in fact, lying in her bed as she did each and every other morning when she woke. No, this morning, she was floating. But she was even more surprised to see that swimming all around her, every color of the rainbow, were fish. It was a dream come true.

“But— but it’s not fair!” I protest. She glares at me. “Listen, nothing’s fair. Nothing is ever fair. You can either learn that, or leave.” “He doesn’t know that! Why does he get to stay but I don’t?” “As I said, nothing is ever fair.” She pauses, contemplating. “And, for the record, I never said you couldn’t stay.” “Setting me with an impossible task is basically telling me to leave. It’s almost as if you don’t want me here! Wait. Is that it? You just don’t want me here anymore? Are you trying to get rid of me?” “No! Where would you get such an idea? You need to stop for a second and figure yourself out. You’re spiraling out of control.”

“You don’t understand.” “I think I understand perfectly clearly.” “No, you don’t. She made me do it. All of it. None of it— not one single part— was me.” I watched from the shadows as the two mysterious women traded harsh words with each other, wielding them like blades. “But you were still fully conscious, were you not? Privy and active with your own thoughts, feelings, and actions?” When the other woman— the blonde one— said nothing in reply, the brunette continued, stepping over a seesaw in order to stare her companion directly in the eyes. “Then you will take the blame, and the fall, for your own actions.” I frowned. This was not how today was supposed to go. This was not how today was supposed to go at all. On account of several things, of course. I’ve never been one to become overly upset about one simple misunderstanding or mistake. But this was simply much too far, and much too out of line. Daddy had promised to take me out for ice cream, but instead, Mommy took me to the playground. Which was fine, except for the fact that I had already been to the playground twice that week, and I hadn’t had ice cream in over a month. And that Daddy was never home, but that couldn’t be helped, Mommy said. Mommy said that all the time. That can’t be helped. So I was playing on the playground, somewhat gloomily, with Mommy napping on a bench under the tree, when two women in black dresses walked up. Naturally, I did what any child would do when an unfamiliar adult invades their space. I hid. It was unusual for an adult to be at a playground. It was practically unheard of for two adults to be at a playground, together, without any kids in tow. So, as you can see, I was quite shaken up as I sat in the turf under the blue slide and listened to the two strange and unusual women converse. And even more so when, from what seemed out of nowhere, a dozen cop cars appeared and arrested the blonde woman and told my mommy she was to come with them. No objections, that was it. The brunette left with them, and soon enough, I was all alone. This was not how today was supposed supposed to go at all.

“I wonder what it is that people like me have in common. I wonder what that driving force is that allows them to come so close, and just as their fingertips brush their goal, the entire world is turned upside down in front of them. I wonder…” “Oh quit your whining. I’m sure that all those people have something in common, but I highly doubt that they all were literally hanging upside down. At least you didn’t come in dead last.” Jester scowls at Lani as her face come into view. She’s pretty, even with her wind-tousled hair. Even upside down. “You also didn’t try. Or train as hard as I did. And I know for a fact that Giselle didn’t train nearly as hard as me.” Lani rolls her eyes. “Giselle also wasn’t nearly as stressed as you. Plus, her mount is much better than yours is. So what if you put the work in? I know that. You know that. So why does it matter if anyone else knows?” Jester doesn’t answer. Lani sighs. “I thought you didn’t care about pride. I seem to recall a certain someone saying it was beneath him?” “Faant.” He mumbles, before swinging out of the tree. “Curd.” Lani replies curtly. He smirks at her, and she grins back.

Her breath comes in fast and shallow, making little clouds of mist as she exhales. Her feet pound on the asphalt beneath them. Water splashes in her wake, slow to register what had disturbed them. Her mind races, taking in and analyzing every possible weapon, hiding spot, and escape route faster than a jack rabbit ever could. Behind her, footsteps and hoof beats thud and echo through the deserted streets. She is always one step ahead of them, but they are always one step behind, hot on her tail. She would prefer that they would be further. Much, much further. She darts into a building and then out of another, so fast her movements could be magic. Her pursuers bark commands and shout back and fourth to each other, giving away their positions. One of her two advantages. The other, obviously, her speed. But their advantage was in numbers and brute force. Where she was sly and witty, they were wild and vicious. It would only be a matter of time before she would be caught. It had never been a question of if she would be caught, even before stealing from them. It was a question of when. And so far, she was doing well at delaying her capture. Just a little longer, and then she would surrender. Into that building, up those stairs, out that door, down that roof, over that walkway. Once she reached the ground, she would do something similar. Through that archway, in that door, down those stairs, through that hallway, out that window, up those stairs, across that roof, down that chimney. Anything to distract her pursuers from what she was really doing. Leading them further and further away from what they were truly chasing. Not the stealer, but the stolen. And the location of said stolen object was another story entirely.

I hesitate only for a moment before knocking, a swift rap of triplets. “Enter,” a voice calls from within. I oblige. Inside, a woman sits at a low table with stacks of letters piled around her. In one hand, she holds a letter, and in the other, a sword. I pause mid-step, and she grins up at me. “What on earth are you doing?” Impossibly, her grin widens. “Opening letters.” She replies smoothly. “With a sword.” “Well what else am I supposed to use it for?” Her tone is somehow innocent, underlined with sarcasm, and mocking all at the same time. I scoff. “Why did you call on me this fine evening, my sweet nemesis?” “I came to see what my competition was up to, but it was clearly a foolish endeavor, seeing as she is so obviously wasting precious and valuable time that could be used for far more important matters than maltreating an expensive piece of equipment.” I smirk at her. She scowls back before laying the sword on the ground next to her. And that is when I see it. I am not too far away to glance at the contents of a very high stack of letters on the ground next to the sword. Well, stack is a very generous word. It was more of a heap. Her eyes follow my gaze and I can see the dread enter her face as she scrambles to hide the letters, but I am too quick for her. I snatch about a dozen away from her grasping hands and scan the first few words of each of them. They’re all love letters, each and every one addressed to the same individual in her hand. To my dearest love, Sir Nickolas Farafax of the Western Isles. Each and every one of them addressed to me. The realization catches me so off guard that she is able to snatch them back from me before I have a chance to read further. “You love me.” I say breathlessly, attempting to meet her eyes. She glares at the floor. “You love me.” I say again, louder this time. Still, nothing. Then, “Yes. I do. Of course I do. You’ve seen the letters, so I’ve no way to deny it. A fruitless effort on my part, I’m sure. I—“ she continues, but I don’t give her the chance.

I am trying to fabricate some petty excuse, like one of the mages drugged me with a love potion as a jest, or a prince had begun to dabble in alchemy and one of his brews had gone terribly wrong, or that a witch cast a spell on me to fall madly in love with the person I despised the most. Really, anything other than the truth.
     But before I can get the words out, he is crushing his lips against mine. I am breathing in his scent and it is more wonderful than I ever would have dreamed. It is like my insides are filling up with honey, like I am being carried off on a thousand butterflies’ wings, like I am sinking to the bottom of the ocean and can still breathe underwater. But some small, horrified part of me pulls back from his embrace.
     His eyes are wild and confused as he takes me in with a hunger that I have never seen before. My heart races with the power of an entire stable of steeds, and my mind races with tenfold that power. “What on earth are you doing?” I say furiously. “Do you wish to bring me lower than you already have? To play with my  emotions until I am nothing but a dull husk? To force me to suffer as you mock me and my pitiful heart?” 
     He chuckles softly before answering, grabbing hold of my chin and leaning in so that I cannot look away. I could jolt myself from his grasp, but I don’t. No matter how humiliating it is, I still enjoy the feeling of his touch on my skin. “Aoife. My dear, sweet nemesis. For how long will you remain blind towards me? Even after I portray my affections for you, how do you remain doubtful? I suppose I shall put it simply, as you have done for me. I love you.” The last part is merely a whisper from his lips, a trickle of words, a mere breeze caressing my mouth. And now, after all this time, we finally see each other clearly.

“Hunt the traitor down, and bring her back to me. Alive.” The Ice Queen’s eyes blaze with an insatiable hunger that could devour nations. I shiver internally, but my outward composition is as impenetrable as a stone. Identical to the others around me.
We turn in unison and stalk out of the throne room, ready to complete our quest and claim the reward. And lucky for me, I have a leg up on all the other assassins on the hunt. As if it senses my thoughts, the cause of the quest warms in my pocket, compelling me to examine it. I push the notion away and instead focus on the task at hand. It will take the other assassins a day, at most, to discover that the poor handmaiden I framed was, in fact, framed. It’ll take them a half hour to discover who framed her. I have to move quickly. At the first intersection, I split off from the group and quicken my pace, heading for the back gate. The odds that I succeed in the task I have set for myself are slim to none, but I have to try. For the good of the world, I must destroy the Ice Queen using the very weapon with which she sought to destroy it. Sensing my thoughts once more, the amulet of the Lost Flame King warms in my pocket encouragingly.

Everyone crowds around the screen, trying to get a better look at what Jessiee is up against. I push to the edge of the pile but go no further. I can already tell how this is going to play out, and I have no part in it. In front of Jessiee, a boy with chocolate brown hair and deep green eyes bends down onto one knee and extends his hands, revealing a velvet box with something shiny inside. A ring. Most of the emotions around me squeal with delight or excitement or whatever. I just roll my eyes and flop backwards onto a bean bag to watch the drama unfold. Excitement, Delight, Happy, Fear, and Uncertainty all step forward and press their hands to the screen one at a time. I can feel the emotional charges pulsating around as they do, growing in momentum as they speed to Jessiee’s conscious. It makes me sick, feeling the brief waves of emotion that are not my own. I rub the bridge of my nose with my forefinger and my thumb and look back up at the screen just in time to see Jessiee lunge at the boy, Thomas, and scream “Yes! Yes! Yes, a thousand times yes!” As I pretend to hurl over the side of my bean bag chair, I think I actually die a little inside.

Winning a week-long sunny vacation couldn’t have come at a better time; it almost seemed too good to be true. And to your average person, that’s all it was. Too good to be true. But I’m not your average person. I had received the phone call three days before I left, during a slow shift at the office. I’d been researching the vacation, curious as to how I’d ended up wining. Turns out, the whole thing never actually existed. It was just another part of the ghost chase I’d been a part of for far too long. I had been out of leads for a while, and the anonymous tips had stopped coming in. I was at a dead end. And then the phone rang. I figured it was my boss, telling me to pick up the speed on my case, but no. Instead, it was my tipper. I’d only ever received typed or written messages from him: emails, texts, letters. Never anything that required speaking. But there he was, on the phone, his tone urgent and hushed. He had told me to come and meet him at 794 Stutter Lane, Conradville in three days, and to come alone. He said he had intel that could help me astronomically on my little “ghost hunt”. I was desperate at this point. Desperate to finish this up. Desperate to get out of this line of work, constantly thrusting myself in the face of danger just to get to the bottom of something. Desperate to keep going, to solve the mystery so I could sleep soundly after five months of restless nights. Desperate to do something. Anything. So of course I went. Yes, dumb of me, I know. “Have you ever seen any movies ever??” You may ask. You mean the ones where the protagonist gets ambushed because he’s too desperate or hasty or something? Yeah. Yeah, I’ve seen them. But when pride gets in your head, it won’t come out. I left my tiny town of Wattsburgh. I drove in my tiny pickup truck all the way to Conradville and found the street I was supposed to be on. The house, however, didn’t exist. Or, that’s what I thought. But now, as I sit with my mouth gaged and my hands tied behind my back in a dusty corner of the 794 Stutter Lane basement, I am forced to rethink my hastily made conclusion. This is not how I’d thought I’d be spending my summer a week ago.