Through the mist and the leaves, lantern-lit windows flicker with passing shadows. Crowded voices can be heard from inside, chatting the evening away. I sludge further through the mud.

"I told you there would be someone out here to help us."

George swats a swamp bug from his arm, grumbling, "Dumb luck."

"Could you at least *try* to be optimistic?" The building comes into better view, holding itself comfortably above the water with dark wooden pillars. "It seems nice."

Before he can answer, the windows go eerily dim, and the voices dissipate into fargone mutterings. This effect intensifies as we approach until we're standing by the front steps, dark and silent. A sign on the door reads in crooked letters 'The Tavern.'

George and I exchange a glance, his eyes asking if I was still sure about this. I grab the rail handle and climb to open the door.

The floor is messy with broken glass and beer, but the inside is completely empty. A soft humming sounds from somewhere, but it wasn't from the back of the room, where George was standing.

“I don't like this, El," he mutters. The humming grows louder, almost sounding like it was emanating from the floorboards. I creep toward the bar. On the other side, a small child, no older than 10 or 11, sits cross on the floor, humming and cleaning smudged glasses with a rag.

"Excuse me," I say. He ignores me, lost in his own world. "Hello?"

George appears beside me and presses a little gold bell on the counter, which rings loudly and clearly.

The boy pops up from his position, head only half clearing the top of the bar.

"Welcome," he says, studying us with wide blue eyes. "What can I do for you today?"

I stand, frozen. "Where are your parents?"

"I will not be answering any personal questions." He looks between the two of us and starts cleaning another glass. "If that's all--"

"No," I cut him off. "We're looking for a way back to our land."

"I have exactly the thing. Many find themselves lost out here." He pours two identical shots with a clear, bubbling liquid and sets them firmly on the counter, raising his arms slightly above his head to reach. I wasn't sure how a drink was supposed to help, but he seemed very confident in its ability to do so. Seeing our doubtful expressions, he taps the bottle. "Liquid portal."

George steps back from the drink warily. "How come the place looked full before we walked up to it?"

"Think of it like a star's illusion. You can't see what state it's in until you get close." He nods as if this made any sense, then scoots the glasses closer. "Try."

"You don't even know where we're trying to go," I say. He scowls and plops back onto the floor like a pouting toddler.

"Try or leave."

I have to admit, it was tempting. What did his assuredness sprout from if not truth?

George grabs my shoulder. "Let's go." I don't take my eyes off the counter. If light and voices could disappear, who's to say teleportation couldn't exist? I wrap my fingers around the glass, and the barkeep's eyes snap back to watch me. George's grip tightens. "El, *don't*."

I tip the drink to my lips and down it.

The first thing I experience is the distinct taste of cherry, then light. The room is suddenly bright and noisy and full of patrons, although from this proximity, the conversation didn't seem as jovial as I had assumed. The pressure is gone from my shoulder, and I turn to survey the room for George's presence, but he's nowhere to be found. The glass in my hand and on the counter have disappeared, too.

I slam my hands on the bar, the small boy still there. "What's happening?" He ignores me. I hit my hand over the bell aggressively and try again. "What did you do?"

He looks up at me calmly, then smiles a smile too wide for a child. “I secured another customer."