Misty’s heart pounded in her chest as the icy missile barreled toward her. She shut her eyes, bracing for the end…

  …But instead of unbearable pain, a deafening “CLANG” shattered the icy missile and Misty’s expectations of her early demise.

  With her heart racing, and still clutching to the shivering children, Misty cautiously opened one eye…

  There stood a tall man, clad in shimmering blue. His long auburn ponytail fluttered in the icy winds. On his right arm was an enormous shield of crystal, blocking the oncoming ice attacks. He glanced back to give a reassuring smile.

  Before she could watch in amazement, Misty felt her feet slowly warm up. Behind her, another tall man, this time, in dark shimmering red, knelt behind her to summon pebbles of salt to thaw out her legs. The salt also melted away the icy cage that trapped her and the two children. Afterwards, the man in blue summoned a crystal dome to envelop Misty and the children in protection. Hope started restoring in her heart, and the wound on her shoulder started healing. Even the boy’s foot began to heal.

  Then, a little girl came running up to them. Her chestnut brown curls bounced as she dashed into action, and her glittering green dress sparkled in the sunlight. She waved a giant leaf like a shield to bounce off the hail attacks. When she arrived by Misty’s side, she summoned a flurry of sweetly scented petals to attack the gray drones.

  The battle raged on. Vines began to grow rapidly from the ground and constricted the drones until they dissipated. And boulders fell from the sky and crushed the drones underneath.

  After all the drones were extinguished, the man in red sealed the cracks in the ground with his bare hands. The little girl twirled like a ballerina, her melodic voice restoring all vegetation around her. The amazing feats seemed to purify Misty’s heart.

  The three heroes searched the area. “Hmph. No sign of Water Servant…” the man in red muttered gruffly, his dark brown ponytail swaying behind his back. He then ordered, “Release the kids, and make sure they’re safe.”

  With a wave of his hand, the man in blue dissipated his crystal barrier. Misty let go of the two children. The boy joyfully jumped around, exclaiming, “My foot doesn’t hurt anymore!” Then the man in blue picked up the children and softly assured, “Don’t worry, you’re safe…” And the little girl in green went by his side to assist him.

  Effortlessly and without much emotion, the tall man in red lifted Misty off the ground. Her eyes widened in astonishment. ‘He can pick up someone my size?!’ she thought embarrassedly.

  The man in red then turned to his comrades to give the orders. “Find out where the other two live. I already know where to put her…”

  The man in red carried Misty home, and placed her on the doorstep of her small brick house. “Stay safe. This isn’t the last time you’ll see us…” Without any further words, he teleported, disappearing into the sunset.

  “They are real…” Misty whispered to herself, feeling relieved with hope renewed in her heart.

  But the feeling of hope was short circuited when the door opened. An intimidating middle aged man, with patchy stubble and thinning ash brown hair towered over her. His pale skin stood in stark contrast to Misty’s as a stern reminder that not only was he the owner of the house, but was also the owner of Misty herself. “So, you finally decided to show your ass up, huh?” His deep voice thundered in her ears, every word laced with fury, “Where the hell did you go?!”

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  Wanting to escape his wrath by melting into the ground, Misty just barely lifted her head to make eye contact and made a barely audible stutter, “Th-the park…”

  The imposing man crossed his arms and shot a cutting glare, not satisfied with her answer.

  She then quickly added, hoping it would be sufficient to mitigate her father’s anger. “…to get some exercise.”

  With an audible growl, he continued scolding her. “A walk in the park isn’t really exercise. Now will you come inside, or what?!”

  Without question, Misty hung her head low and stepped inside.

  The furnishings inside the ranch house were sparse, and shadows loomed over the walls. There were some photos of Claira as a child, next to a teenage girl with glasses and a similar hair color to Misty’s father. Misty looked much happier around that girl than with him. A couple of photos were cracked due to one of his fits of rage.

  A middle aged, dark haired woman was in the kitchen making dinner, grumbling bitterl. She was glaring at the other grown woman with blonde hair, her kids in the living room, looking completely unrelated to the family. Of course, Misty didn’t think that this was normal for any family. But when she voiced her concerns, she had to step outside to escape her father’s wrath.

  “Look at you.” Furiously, he flipped her hood, the damp fabric slapping her back sending shivers down her spine as shame welled in her heart. “You’re soaking wet, and your hair’s a mess again. And we just fixed it yesterday!”

  “Oh what happened this time…?!” His first wife came from the kitchen with half-concern and a raised eyebrow.

  “Shut up and go make dinner!” He barked back at her, with clenched fists.

  “Whatever,” the wife said flippantly, rolling her eyes. She turned her glare at Misty. “Misty, try not to piss your father off anymore. He just wants what’s best for you.” She turned around in a huff and returned to the stove.

  “She and her kids are staying, and there’s nothing you can do about it,” Misty’s father bellowed. “You don’t do that shit anymore, got it?!” He then shook his head. “I swear to god, your sister Raphaelle used to pull that shit all the time, too…and look where it got her—dead as a doornail.” His hand made a furious gesture to the old photos.

  ***

  After dinner, the television showed a news report about the mysterious weather phenomenon. The three Birthknights were shown, but the newscaster only mentioned them as “cosplayers” caught in the chaos, trying to make a scene.

  Misty’s heart raced as she watched the screen. They were real. How could they not be?! She rescued two kids, and was almost frozen solid that day! Was there some kind of reason why no one else saw the ghostly gray creatures?!

  “Tch. Cosplayers,” Misty’s father grumbled, taking a swig of his beer. “People‘ll do anything for attention these days.”

  “But…” Misty ventured timidly, her voice shaking. “What if they’re there to help…?”

  “Didn’t I tell you to stop reading those stupid fairy tales?!” Misty’s father barked, shaking his beer bottle at her with every word. “This is why you’re in special ed. Are you still seeing things?! Hearing voices?!”

  The blonde lady tittered from a distance, shooting her icy blue eyes at Misty.

  Misty bit her lip, trying to keep her voice steady despite the anger radiating from her father like a storm. The words spilled out before she could stop them.

  “But I was never lying…” Her voice wavered. “They healed my shoulder and—”

  With a darkened face, Misty’s father slammed his bottle down and rapidly stood up. His brows knit into a scowl that turned the room icy cold. His booming voice made her flinch.

  “Enough, Misty! We don’t need any more of your lies and excuses. Go to your room, and get ready for tomorrow. If you’re late for your orientation, so help me!”

  The threat was punctuated by his clenched fist, like thunder just waiting to strike. Misty nodded weakly, her shoulders sagging under his oppression.

  “Y-Yes…” she stammered, her voice barely audible.

  She turned and trudged toward her room, her legs feeling as though they carried the weight of his words with every step.

  The door clicked shut behind her, sealing away the chaos of the rest of the house. Misty stood for a moment in the silence at her late sister’s yellow backpack slumped on the edge of the mattress. Her room was like her thoughts—dark, messy, and filled with unfinished goals and broken dreams. The blankets were tousled due to many restless nights.

  Kneeling down and taking her sketchbook out of the yellow backpack, Misty let her fingers brush against the worn pages of the sketchbook. She flipped through the drawings, memories etched in graphite and ink. Her heart ached as she stopped at a particular image—the one of Raphaelle, her smile bright even against a backdrop of sadness. The words “Together again someday” scrawled beneath the drawing stood out like a beacon of longing.

  ‘I’m not wrong, am I…?’ she thought to herself. Tears stung at her eyes as her fingers traced the outline of Raphaelle’s face. Her mind then flashed back to the warmth of her rescuer’s hands, and his blunt but kind words. “Stay safe.”

  But how could she stay safe in a place like this…? Misty clutched her sketchbook, a fire brewing inside of her that she knew she could never unleash against her father. Instead, it could only spill out as tears, staining the pages.