When I feel that chain break loose from around my neck, my heart literally skydives out of my chest and I'm frozen in shock as the ring flies up right in front of my face. In the blink of an eye, it's already falling from my reach, even as I scramble to snatch it up. In dismay, I watch it gleam in the sunlight before disappearing down below, blending into the green canopy.

"No!"

I'm so panicked by the ring that I forget I've just fallen out of a cliff and am currently free-falling. But in all actuality, the cliff isn't as far of a drop as I first thought when I was shot out. Oh, it definitely isn't a you're-not-going-to-walk-away-scratch-free kind of cliff, but it's not like the one we ventured to before.

Breaking through the green, jungle canopy, I figure that an idea on how to get through this alive might have been beneficial. By God's pity- because at this point, what else could it be?- I end up fall across a branch on a tree. I mean, it nearly chops me in half right in the middle of my stomach, but I'm alive and able to get a good enough grip to pull myself up and straddle the branch.

I can't even say my priorities are straight right now because my brain immediately floods with worry on how to find that ring instead of, oh, I don't know, how to get down from this tree. All I can think about is finding that ring- I cannot lose that ring. It doesn't even feel like my heart is in my chest anymore, my thoughts are scattered, and I'm panting like a dog again.

God, I can't lose this ring. Oh God, I cannot lose this ring.

It's kind of a miracle it stayed on that long, I mean seriously, I've been through some crazy, intense shit and it stayed on through all of that, except that damn talon.

Like a zombie, I mindlessly scurry down the tree, slipping a little here and there but not even caring as I finally get on solid ground and begin searching the jungle floor for the small silver ring. To find a ring like that in an area like this is like looking for a four-leaf clover, but I'm determined. I can't leave this place without finding that ring.

I figure it couldn't have flown far from me when I fell, so I carefully begin combing the area, squatting on the ground and moving around fallen debris in hopes of finding the important piece of jewelry.

Fuck me if I can't find this.

My dad gave me that ring, a ring that was once his wedding band, a ring that's a family heirloom, a ring that's supposed to remind me who I am- that ring is crucial to my family.

After scrounging the area with more scrutiny than a doctor during a procedure, I have no choice but to assume the ring went farther than I'd thought and that I have to track it down.

I leave no rock unturned in my continued, expanded search. The further along I go, the more I start to despair, but suddenly, a break.

A little further up ahead, an object faintly gleams in the sunlight. Racing over without hesitation, I pluck that ring off the jungle floor and finally breathe my first real breath in over seven minutes or so.

"Thank God."

Now that I can leave again, I need to recalculate-

You know what? Fuck me. Fuck whatever demon is messing with me.

Just as I start walking forward, a magical, hidden root that goes completely unnoticed by me, pops up out of fuckin' nowhere and sends me flying. As I fall forward, the ring slips right out of my buttery hands, out into the unknown again.

"Fuck!"

Scrambling to my feet, I run after the thing, determined not to lose sight of it this time, but it had bounced along the ground like it was a bouncy ball instead of a metallic ring. It must have dropped down off the ledge a little further up. Glancing down for a brief second to see if I can catch a glimpse of a glimmer, I hurry to descend the slight decline.

As I turn the corner, I breathe another massive sigh of relief. Up ahead, I can spot the telltale gleam of the ring. With the ring in sight, I waste no time rushing over to retrieve it- making a mental note to keep a tighter grip on it this time in case any more sneaky roots want to trip me. But just as I'm only a few feet away, a man comes out of nowhere and picks it up. I freeze, halfway hidden behind a tree as I watch this unexpected scene unfold.

The first thing I notice is that the stranger carries an antique, cool looking staff or whatever in one hand while he inspects the ring in the other. He kinda has this could-have-passed-for-a-hippy look with his dark wavy, shoulder-length hair and- gotta admit- wickedly awesome beard that reminds me of a Kung Fu master's. As he's looking at the object, I'm sure he's probably wondering where this random ass ring came from.

I'm not sure what kind of people live out here, but if they're anything like people back home then he'll most likely swipe that ring and beat it. So without further delay- or concern that he might be armed and dangerous- I approach him.

"Uh, hey," I get his attention. "Thanks for finding my ring there. I kind of tripped and it landed here."

His brow furrows. "Your ring?"

"Yeah," I hold out my hand expectedly. "Can I have it back? It's kinda really important."

Continuing to look confused, he glances between me and the ring before replying blankly-

"That can't be."

"What now?" I step closer, still holding out my hand like an idiot but now sucked into this confusion. "It's my ring, I swear. I know it doesn't look like my style but-"

"Where did you get this?" He cuts me off, enclosing the ring in his fist.

Not really favoring his pointed tone or the fact that he's withholding my ring, I give a snippy response in return.

"It was given to me."

"That's a lie."

Whoa, not expecting to be called a liar.

Now a bit defensive, I protest. "I'm not a liar! My dad gave me that ring- that's double the reason why you better give it back to me."

In turn, he's starting to become defensive with me, his expression hardening as he points his staff at me.

"Then your father's a thief."

"My dad is not a thief!"

I'm going to a dark place. I need to rein it in and remember my anger management instructor's words. "If you feel that bubble of anger rising, pause, re-evaluate, and focus on the constant, not the spontaneous". So I pause, take a shallow breath, and grit myself teeth all while my insides boil alive.

"I don't like people calling me and people I know liars or stealing my stuff, so if I were you, I would hand over the ring now."

He remains unfazed. "And I don't take kindly to deceivers or those who steal that which isn't theirs."

He's trying to con me out of this ring, I just know it. I'm already this close to losing my shit.

"I'm not leaving without that ring," I bite back.

"Where did you steal this from?" He continues. "How did you obtain it?"

"I already told you, my dad gave it to me- it was his wedding band."

"Your tongue knows nothing but lies it seems."

I unsheathe my sword, so done with all of this.

"Listen, buddy, that ring is important to me and my family so you better hand it over or there's going to be trouble for-"

He barks out a humorless laugh, not even minding my threat, then shakes the fist the ring is in.

"My father crafted this ring specifically for me- it is the only one of its kind. There's only one person who should be wearing it and it is not you, a thief."

"My dad's mom gave him that ring! It's the most important item he owned and he gave it to me."

It hits me then how much there is to lose if I let this man steal this from me. My dad entrusted me with this- a family heirloom. The only thing I hate more than losing is disappointing my parents, especially my dad- I can't even handle the thought of it. So I grow a little desperate, coming off a bit more pleading than I'd like to.

"Please, that ring is the only thing my dad has from his own dad- that was his only connection to him- he trusted me with it. I cannot go home without that ring, please."

It's only slightly, but the man's face softens a little at this, though skepticism remains etched deep on his face.

"You put on a convincing act, but I know who I-"

"Look," I sigh in frustration. "Maybe that ring looks a lot like the ring your dad gave you, but that one right there has to be mine- it's an heirloom. My dad's mother got it from my dad's dad who got it from his dad- it sounds confusing but it's not- then my dad gave it to my mom who then on their wedding day-"

"Gave it to..." He stops and stares at me, a new wave of confusion washing away the previous hostility.

After a moment of deep thinking, he looks at me as if noticing me for the first time.

"What is her name?" He hastily asks.

Now I'm befuddled. "Who?"

"Your father's mother, the one who gave him the ring. What is her name?"

This is a total switch. He seems completely hungry for answers now. Unfortunately, I'm not Brent, which means I never bother asking about family tree stuff (he would most definitely know this). So I have to stand here and think hard about this. I swear I heard her name mentioned once or twice, but it wasn't often.

"Uh...hold up, um...I-I can't really remember. My parents never really told me and I never really-"

"Is it Aelita?"

Pausing to think, that name starts to sound familiar.

"Now that you mention it, yeah, that was it. Aelita."

He freezes. I mean, he just stares off in space with a blank expression on his face, as if he has to process this. It's going to get late before I know it and, again, I'm on a tight schedule so...

"Look, I would really appreciate it if you just gave me my ring back and we can both go on our merry ways."

After a moment of silence on his end, he looks at me again, this time as desperate as ever for answers.

"Your father, how old is he?"

He asks as if he only has seconds to live. With pressure like that, I feel like I'm on a game show and my brain goes haywire with that simple question.

God, making me feel like the worst daughter of the year.

I've lost track of how old my dad is- I don't think I ever kept track. But he's desperate for answers here so I have to say something.

"Let's see, I'm fourteen..." I glance down at the ground to calculate this. "Uh, probably late thirties? Pushing forties, maybe."

"How old exactly?" He urges.

Jesus! Recalculating!

"Thirty-eight."

He does that hundred yard stare again, making me wonder if I'm dealing with a crazy person (he kinda has the look for it). His silence doesn't last as long as before, but when he does mumble out some words it's not directed to me.

"This can't be...on my mother's grave this cannot be...I would have never left if I knew she was with child..."

He leans so heavily on that staff, I'm half afraid he's going to fall over or vomit- or both. Forgetting the ring momentarily- and actually being a decent human being for once- I step forward a bit and ask-

"Uh, are you good? Do you need to lie down or anything?"

I would hate to watch a man croak before me- especially a man his age, it just wouldn't look good.

Immediately, after I ask, he stops his inaudible mumbling and looks up at me, slowly straightening back up to his regular height. He just stares at me for a second before saying the craziest thing I've heard since being here.

"Your father is my son."

He says it as if he can't believe it himself before saying it more affirmatively.

"I have a son."

"I'm sorry, but what?"

I shake my head as if to clear out the cotton balls stuck in there because I must be high on something.

"What is his name?" He asks, ignoring my obvious bewilderment.

"Xalale."

I almost said Axel because that's what Clifford and everyone in town, minus my mom, calls him. I honestly thought that was his name when I was younger.

He beams at this, speaking in amazement mostly to himself. "Valiant." He starts drilling me again. "What is he like? What does he look like? How-"

"Hold up, hold up, hold up," I slow his roll. "Let me wrap my head around this. You're supposedly my dad's dad- who he never knew- but you live over here in Pyranaleath'tai or whatever and he was born in Edalirwen, a place where they don't even believe this place exists. I'm gonna need some explaining here."

Collecting his bearings, he closes his eyes and takes a breath before opening them again to address my confusion.

"I didn't always call this land my home- it was once mysterious and unknown to me as well. I was born in a mountainous northeastern region in Edalirwen, then when I became a young man I left home to travel and see what wonders I could find. I sought shelter one night during a cruel snowstorm and that's where I first met her..." He gets that sweet nostalgic expression older people often get when remembering fond times. "Aelita. She was a queen- a very short tempered one from first impressions- but she turned out to be the woman I would love for eternity." He breaks from his dreamy state to ask me, "Where is she now? Is she well? Does she wonder about me still?"

"Um..." God, why do I always have to burst the bubbles around here? I'm not good at this. "She's...dead."

The way he goes from eager to devastated is honestly one of the most depressing things I've seen in a while.

Leaning heavily on his staff again, he stares at the ground, momentarily in shock from the news.

"She was dead long before I was born," I continue cautiously. "My parents never talk about her so I don't know a lot about her unfortunately."

Recovering from his speechlessness, he clears his throat before straightening up again, though a sadness weighs on his shoulders a bit.

"I curse myself for leaving. It wasn't worth it then and it certainly isn't worth it now."

Growling in frustration, he scolds himself. "If I had stayed in one place for once in my life- for once!- I wouldn't have been stranded here for all these useless years. I left her with child. I'd promised her I'd returned. What a foolish man of my word I've been."

I'm usually the number one person for self-beatdowns (mostly 'cuz I earn 'em), but seeing other people unjustly blame themselves doesn't seem right.

"Hey, none of this is your fault," I reason.

"I abandoned them both to wander the world like a foolish boy- I'm not the man I should have been, I'm still not. What does he even think of me?"

"I mean, he doesn't talk about his past much," I shrug. "He kinda keeps his emotions and thoughts on the down low at times."

He goes on again. "I wouldn't blame him if he resents me. I've carried much regret in my life but none as heavy as-"

"Look," I gotta put a stop to this self-deprivation fest. "You're not at a bad guy, from what I gather. Things happen, life happens, you gotta roll with the punches. I don't know what my dad thinks of you, but I'm sure it's not resentment, he's not like that."

He rubs his face with his hand then nods. "You may be right. In whatever case- whether he despises me or not- it would be unthinkable to remain absent any longer. I long to see this son of mine, if only to see the man he has become."

"And I'm sure he'd like to meet you, but that reunion might be awhile."

"Why is that?"

"Uh, yeah, so I'm not even supposed to be here- I don't live in this world."

He gives me a puzzled look. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I'm not from this planet or universe. I'm from this place called Earth, but some crazy shit happened, my brother apparently came here after me, he's been kidnapped by this jerkwad named Tymos, and-"

He stiffens. "Tymos?"

"You know him?"

He makes a face as if he just smelt horse shit (the perfect expression for discussing Tymos).

"I have dealt with his mischief from time to time. He's taken your brother?"

"Yeah, and now he has this vendetta against me and wants me to reach him before this deadline."

"I always knew him to be a cunning one- he's too much of a serpent to be the ruler of this land."

I'm starting to like this man.

"Yeah, he's definitely one to play games," I roll my eyes.

After a heartbeat of silence, his expression softens again.

"You have a brother?" He questions. "How old is he?"

"Twelve. And he's the bee's knees, I mean, he's a real neat kid."

"What is his name?"

"Brent. You know, he resembles my dad a lot physically, and I can definitely see the similarities between you and my dad. Unlike me. I literally look like I was dropped off by the stork at the wrong house."

He chuckles at this.

"Ah, I assume you resemble your parents more in personality than appearance?"

I shrug. "Eh, somewhat."

He chuckles again.

"Your mother," He begins. "She is married to your father?"

"Yeah."

"What is her name?"

"Mallory."

"When did she meet your father?"

I'm really gunning for that worst daughter of the year award.

"Kinda young. I'm not sure the exact age, but all I know is there's a four year age difference between them."

"I see," He nods thoughtfully. "This is all so amazing to me, it's incredible to think that I have a son. Is he happy in life?"

I'm assuming, he's never indicated otherwise, but hey, he could be going through a mid-life crisis and remain as cool as cucumber and I'd never know. Does that make me a bad daughter? For his sake, though, I reply affirmatively-

"Yeah, he's pretty chill with life right now."

That relieves him. He honestly must think my dad hates his guts. I mean, you're lucky if you get more than a page's worth of words from my dad a day (not including the countless "hms" throughout), so I'm not sure why he's expecting tribulation from a guy who never knew him.

I've been standing around for too long, but this is actually, like he said, kinda incredible that of all the people I run into, I find my long-lost paternal grandfather no one knew was alive. In fact, with this new info...

"Is it cool for me to have my ring back now?" I ask.

Opening up his hand, he stares at the ring for a second before tossing it to me.

"If your father thought it important to pass it down then sobeit. It is rightfully yours."

"Thanks."

I'll have to find another chain for it- preferably a stronger one- but for now I'll wear it on my thumb, the only finger that it'll stay on.

"Yours is the only name I haven't gotten," He says.

"Oh, yeah, I'm Joan. Fourteen and livin' life. What about you? I mean unless you want me to call you grandpa or whatever."

He shakes his head with a smile.

"Ah, no, you may call me Dhisnaek."