Maybe it had something to do with her mother, maybe it had something to do with the scar on her forearm, or maybe because she was thirteen, and thirteen-year-old children do strange things. Whatever the reason, Elora Sorrest was a little off. The neighbors gossiped like the usually do, the students remained in their little groups, holding a wall of electronic devices around them, and no one was different than the other typical, quaint little towns. When Elora came along, a child of humor, of acceptance, free of judgement, even a rumor of sorcery was considered as many people wondered how someone could be so pure. Of course, sorcery was simply a figment of one's imagination, and, of course, there was no proof of anything different about Elora. But the townsfolk could feel it, even if they didn't know anything for sure.

Then again, humans believe what they wanted and felt what they wished — they based facts off of select bits of what they call proof.

But sorcery wasn't real. And they knew this. But if they looked closely enough to the Sorrest family, if they watched carefully enough to the little, bouncing young Elora, they would notice, as Elora herself had, nothing was the same as before.

Everywhere Elora went, she found that the students around her never talked with her, the adults who taught her at school rarely ever called on her, and almost no one seemed to want to talk with her.

"Elora," her mother called on her way to school the next day, breaking her out of her thoughts. Elora rolled her eyes. Everyday, her mother made sure she never forgot her lunch, never forgot her mittens, never forgot her homework.

Everyday, Elora had to run to catch the bus.

She knew her mother loved her, only trying to keep her safe. But the woman desperately needed to learn to trust her daughter.

"Mother," Elora said, forcing herself to stay put and not to shove right through the door, ignoring her mother.

"Elora, your mittens!"

"I have them, Mother!"

"No, I'm fairly certain they're in my hands. Unless," her mother started.

Here we go again, Elora thought. Her mother was the sort of woman who, even at her age, was thirty years younger in her own mind. She was kind, indeed, and smart, but she certainly seemed to be living in a fairytale land.

"Unless," her mother repeated, "I am hallucinating because in reality, I am simply a young gnome, and because gnomes have terrible eyesight. But no, I see you quite clearly. Perhaps because —"

Though Elora loved her mother dearly, she was not about to stand there and listen to her mother create the most fantastical theories of who she and her daughter were. Sometimes, Elora found herself walking out the door, pondering over whether or not her mother was a were-unicorn — the sort of human that turns into a unicorn every new-moon, and could turn invisible which was why no one ever noticed them.

"I've got new ones," Elora interrupted, "remember?"

"Oh," her mother said. "Well, go on, then! Don't want to miss the bus!"

Elora sighed and stepped out of the warmth of her house. It had taken less time, this once, for her to get out of her home. She looked about the ground, which was blanketed in frost, adorned with fallen leaves. The dewdrops were scintillating in the light, each one competing to try and catch her gaze. She skipped all the way to her bus stop, taking in what she could as she went. She gathered together leaves of a thousand colors, sniffing every flower that was still alive despite the autumn breezes. It had taken her a few moments to realize the bus was already at her stop, which was a block away from her house, and she was only halfway there.

"Oh no," Elora whispered wearily.

The bus turned around the corner, disappearing behind the many-colored trees and houses that hid the next street from view.

Elora didn't bother to run. She would have to go back home, and her mother would have to drop her off to school by car. By now, she was only used to it.

She sighed tiredly, turning around.

Perhaps today will be different, Elora thought fleetingly, but that never happened. It never will, probably.

As she trudged back, something caught her eye. She shrugged it off, thinking it was another bit of frost or dew reflecting the light and sending a strange mirage flying through her inventive mind.

Again, something flickered in the corner of her vision. When Elora turned to look, there was nothing there.

A third time, an image appeared and this time, Elora caught it. It was a vision or something, of a girl, standing there in the grass. With smooth, shiny, dark brown curls, bouncing around her face, and the eyes of the similar color, a girl stood, perhaps her age, right beside Elora. Her eyebrows were perfectly shaped, her lips full and pink. Her skin was light but her cheeks were rosy. A simple golden circlet, or maybe a tiara, was set upon her perfect hair. She also wore a dark blue dress fit for a princess, complete with pearls and rippling pearl-white silk adorning the dress from one pearl to the next in waves — Elora had forgotten what they were called.

"Strange," she muttered to herself. The girl smiled at her, holding out a hand, though she was several feet away.

Elora reached forward to place her hand in the girl's. She expected the girl to vanish like a hallucination, her hand moving through cold, empty air, but instead, she found the girl's slender hand to be warm and soft. The girl smiled mischievously and tugged her away, toward the forest.

"Where are we going?" Elora wondered.

The girl looked back at her, giggling. Her laugh was almost musical, really, the sound of someone truly filled to the brim with joy.

"What's your name? Who are you? What are you doing here? Are you a hallucination or something? If you are, then how can I feel your hand? Why are you dressed like a princess? Where did you come from, anyway?"

It was not the first time Elora had asked so many questions. Nor was it the first time somebody ignored her the way this girl did now.

"Hey." She scowled, pulling up short. "Quit dragging me places, princess, I've got to get home."

Elora could be mean when she wanted to, she knew, and this wasn't nearly as wicked as she usually could act. She was often proud of the creative insults she'd made — especially for someone who doesn't swear — but this time, the other girl's smile did not falter.

Nor did she answer.

Instead, she tugged her through the woods behind the houses. Elora paused, only to drop her bag which was slowing her down and only making her more tired. She left it near a memorable tree before continuing after the girl.

She didn't know why she was still following her. She didn't know why. She just knew she needed to find out what was going on. Was she just going crazy? Was she in some delirious stupor?

"Hey, where are you taking me?" Elora asked again, jumping over a log. The woods were buzzing with life — after all, it was early spring — though snow was still melting in places. Lime-green leaves were beginning to grow back on every gray tree, adding a splash of color to the plain gray hue.

"Come on," Elora said, suddenly apprehensive. She tried not to think about her palm sweating in the girl's.

No one had ever talked to her, sure. Nor did this girl. But no one had bothered to come remotely close to her or smile at her the way she did. No one had bothered to take her hand and lead her anywhere.

It was an uncomfortable feeling, the way people smile from pure joy as if it were perfectly normal. It was unusual, the way the girl didn't speak aloud, and yet, her expressions seemed to communicate everything.

"Come," the girl whispered. Her voice was musical, enchanting, almost, as if it were made to draw people in far enough so they could never make it out.

Elora painfully wrenched her wrist away. "No," she said firmly, "Not until you tell me where I'm going."

The girl looked at her, puzzlement showing clearly through her eyes. "Home."

For a moment, no one spoke. Silence was strange. It was supposedly nothing, and yet, standing in silence and staring at the girl dressed as a princess, there were a thousand thoughts running through Elora's head and none at all. To be silent was to make no sound, she decided, but silence can still be heard.

"What?" she whispered, and for the first time, that was the only question she had.

The girl smiled. Her dark eyes brightened in the sunlight which filtered through the trees. "Come along, now."

Elora stared at her unable to comprehend her words. Finally, the word 'home' drilled into her head.

"What do you mean 'home'? Where is that? My home is the opposite way — isn't it? My mother is home right now. I've got to get to school, by the way —"

"No, Elora," the girl said. Elora stared at her in shock. Her name . . . "Home is where you belong. Do you belong here?"

"I don't know," said Elora truthfully. "No, seriously, the only thing that comes to mind right now is, stranger danger."

The dark-eyed girl blinked. "You see? This nonsense rubbish won't help you. You're almost thirteen, now. Four years of training won't be enough."

"Four years of training? For what? What are you saying? And what do you mean by 'I'm going home'?"

The girl sighed, though her disapproval was short-lived. She held up her hand.

"What are you doing?" Elora said cautiously stepping forward.

"I'm bringing you home, Elora. This world does not appreciate you for who you are. But yours? Your real world is out there, waiting. Not only waiting, it's falling apart. You, my Queen, can put it back together."

"This world? What do you mean this world? What, is there some fantasy world out there now? And what do you mean my real world? This is the real world. Pull yourself out of that fancy dress and catch up — we aren't in the medieval era!" Elora didn't know why she was being so rude, but to be fair, this girl just told her she was a queen, implied there were multiple worlds, and claimed she didn't live here. How else was she supposed to take that? "And most importantly, what is 'queen' supposed to mean?"

"I'm pretty sure it's self-explanatory." The girl snapped her fingers.

Nothing happened.

"What did you except, for me to get a pumpkin carriage and painful glass slippers?" Elora snapped.

The girl only winked. "Just remember," she said in her soft, graceful tone, "no matter how shattered something seems, it isn't lost. Just broken."

She gave a playful little wave before disappearing into nothing, leaving behind only a few sparks to indicate she'd been there which quickly dissipated.

"What?" Elora shouted. Her voice echoed throughout the woods over the chirping of birds, the rustle of squirrels and chipmunks, and the gently scuffle of a small animal beneath the ground.

I'm gonna be so late for school, she thought, dread sweeping through her. What else was she supposed to do? Think about the hallucination she'd just had?

It was getting rather chilly, Elora noticed. The wind had picked up and the snow that hadn't quite melted yet started to fly, slow and low to the ground at first. As the wind blew harder, the snow picked up so much, she could barely see two feet in front of her.

The girl — when she snapped her fingers, she must've caused this windstorm, whatever it was.

"Oh, crap," Elora said under her breath. The snow had gathered around her. She couldn't see her own fingers anymore, and nor could she feel them. Both her fingers and her toes had grown numb.

She hooked her hand as best she could into a nearby tree as the wind blew even more, lifting Elora up until she was flying like a flag, flickering in a harsh breeze.

Everything turned into a whiteout, as if she'd died and went to heaven. But she still couldn't feel her toes, so she assumed she wasn't dead. Yet.

I need to update my will, Elora thought rather calmly, to sue that girl. And get a lawyer.

Frantically, she dug both her hands into the bark of the tree, trying to hold on tightly, with the wind whipping at her. Her long curls flew into her face, and her fingers were only getting weaker. She wouldn't make it, she knew. Whatever this was, she wouldn't make it.

Someone help me! she thought frantically.

She held on as well as she could until a loud crack! sounded throughout the forest. She screamed as the tree went flying off into who-knows-where.

Suddenly, all was quiet. The animals were chattering, a gentle breeze ruffling the leaves. Nothing had seemed to change.

But the girl was gone.

The only remnant of Elora, the only clue that she had been there, was the echoing screams piercing the ears of animals all around. For those that had heard it, the only recollection they'd ever have of the moment was terror.

Terror and darkness.

A curse to their ears, haunting their days, for years to come, that noise will remain.

To Elora, it was nothing but a distant recollection.

Whatever the swirl was, she didn't find out. Her eyes closed, pain lurking somewhere outside her. A rush of fear and adrenaline forced her to curl up as small as she could.

Elora, called her mother in her mind. Elora, you stay with me and you'll stay safe, okay? You stay with me and no fear will ever haunt you the way it haunts me of my life before you, my angel. Maybe, just maybe, you won't have to die.