"So, would you believe if I say that there is a magical realm beyond this world?"

Pristine attempted to comprehend what the now-trustful man said.

"Yes," she returned immediately.

"Huh? That quick?"

"Yes! When I can believe in the existence of superheroes like you and sorcerers like that old woman, how much more different will believing in a magical realm be?"

Alan was dumbstruck by her solid answer. He ridiculed himself for expecting Pristine to widen her eyes in curiosity and decided to carry on with the matter in a faster mode.

"Agreed," he nodded as Pristine crossed her arms, expecting the arrival of the actual matter.

"So there is a magical realm beyond our world called Etheria. The inhabitants are called Etherials and there are many cities in it – the capital city being Pandora," Alan felt like he was narrating a bed-time story; he saw Pristine's drowsy eyes shutting her view and other senses.

To the point Alan, it's not a fairytale! Alan chided himself to speed the process.

"I have heard that they have some sort of magic providing service. It's called the 'Pandora's Pacting Magistrate'. They provide magic to those who are in need of with some payments, I guess. They –"

"Is that how you guys were also created?" Pristine interrupted.

"Yes."

"If that's the case, then it should be available to all humans right?"

"Not exactly, only those who have the portkey can reach there." Alan answered. After completing the answer, he realized the upcoming question to which he himself was dumbfounded.

"Then how did your dad get the portkey?" Pristine raised her brows cynically. She did believe in the whole magical stuff, but how on earth did a normal human like Mr. Alteiner get hands on a portkey to the magical realm?

There was much logic in the question raised and Alan felt embarrassed. How come he and his siblings had never thought of this aspect, even Arabella? Answering an 'I don't know' would be akin to chugging bottles of chagrin voluntarily.

This is where you need to use the big walnut in your head, Alan!

"That's not the point, Pristine," Alan held his palm out, " The point is we do have the portkey and we are going to use it."

Alan felt proud that he had dodged a possible dishonour with his bleak touché. But Pristine didn't seem to notice his sagacity. Instead, her eyes flitted in curiosity as her lips remained aloof to shut themselves from questioning everything abnormal.

Before she could part her chapped lips to fling another sensible query, Alan finished the remainder of his idea.

"I am going to use that portkey to get you an invisible potion. That's the only way to protect you."

His words were sharp and piercing; they meant his decision and conclusion adding that there was no more accommodation available for further thoughts.

"I see," Pristine's voice softened, laced with concern.

"I hope that doesn't bring you trouble."

Alan melted momentarily on discerning the concerning tone, but froze back on realizing the seriousness in her words. How much trouble was going to Pandora and making a secretive pact yield? Banishment from the Alteiner's family was the least degree of punishment that flooded Alan's brain. However, it was all the goblets of courage and determination his mother had fed since birth that made him go for the leap.

"Hopefully," he assured himself.

"I have to go now. Delaying every minute is not something wise at the moment."

"Wait!" Pristine hollered, her voice quivering.

"What now?" Alan hurled impatiently," I am sure I made everything clear."

"You are leaving me alone here! Do you realize?" Pristine yelled, highlighting his stupidity.

"What guarantee will you give me that none of your family members are going to barge in and find the most wanted criminal leisuring in their brother's room?"

Alan sighed aloud. How many more cycles of argument and counter-argument was he to undergo?

"Pristine, I am sure you know you cannot come along with me. And I can guarantee you that none of the housemates would bother to look at me. I have just made a whole ruckus at home – I attacked Adrius out of suspicion and no one is going to talk to me until I apologize," Alan clarified, but the memories of the basement lab haunted his sanity.

How could I suspect Adrius? His eyes curbed the overwhelming tears because it had no value whatsoever.

Pristine still appeared unconvinced, her body flinched in anxiety. And it was right on her part.

How much safety and privacy can you expect in a house where one human flies while the other teleports?

Being at the city's superpowered hub, magic ebbed and flowed in absolute consonance and maintained a natural equilibrium between the two realms, so Pristine had zero confidence in staying at an abode with potential threats, be it the cantankerous Arthur or her best friend Arabella.

Trepidation reigned her 'sanity' kingdom, executing the armed troops of confidence owing to the fact that she was the beautiful reason for the Alteiner's banishment from the ministry. So it would be fitting for Arthur to tear her bones apart, once his wrathful eyes set sight on her.

Keeping a tab of all the possible situations that would lead to her imprisonment or ultimate death, Pristine spoke, "I cannot trust anyone here besides you, Alan."

It was a clear statement and Alan understood her stand. She was not willing to be here alone. But supporting her adamancy at that moment would be one of the many foolish things Alan had done, apart from the one he was about to do.

"What if someone wants to check on you since y'all had a row?" the brunette fretted.

Bleached in waves of horrid phantasms, Pristine stuttered.

"What if – what if –"

"Listen here," Alan rebuffed, " Mom rarely comes upstairs and Dad never leaves his room except for dinner. Adrius is too lazy to walk so he won't bother to fly and Arthur is banned from teleporting within our house. You know Arabella, she's probably hung on some sci-fic book or inventing her own gadgets. Abi –"

"You missed Avril!" Pristine alarmed.

"Seriously Pristine?" Alan scoffed.

"It's known that he does not have powers. And moreover, he is a harmless chap who does not poke into others' business."

"That doesn't make him good, Alan. I thought you considered everyone around you to be suspects," Pristine riposted, her face fumed in fury.

"In that case," Alan appeared to think casually, "You are one of my suspects too! Now I am scared that I am leaving my whole family alone with a murderer!"

Those words that left Alan's mouth were piercing arrows coated with senses that stung the distraught girl. She realized that Alan had personally taken the risk of housing a murderer and the only reason behind it was the trust he had in her. She had always been foolish, but this was the first time she regretted being one.

Taking someone's kindness and compassion for granted would be the gravest thing she had done, besides the murder.

Flames of ire still blazed indignantly as the manipulator averted his gaze from his guest. It had always been like this – people rarely recognized his efforts and blamed him for everything. Just like what happened with Adrius...

"I am sorry," the words were feeble, evincing utmost sincerity and regret. Pristine groveled in guilt, her head hung low in pangs of conscience.

"I was just a bit –"

"It's okay," Alan murmured. He was in no mood to listen to lectures of explanation. He loosened his tensed features and worked hard to appear normal.

"I will be back as soon as possible. Stay where you are, don't leave the room," Alan advised, reaching for the metal handle of the door. Maintaining as much tranquility, Alan soundlessly turned the metal knob and advanced to the other side of the door.

As Alan made a decision to leave, he glanced at Pristine, who's feet remained fixated to the wooden floor, torso trembling in fear. The previous events replayed in his brain and he had realized how frightened the brunette would be. Even though justice reigned in his side, an apology or solace would at the least console her, his conscience advised.

"Pristine!" he called, as Pristine immediately contacted his eyes, averting from the creepy delusions of getting caught, something that her anxiety weaved.

Alan passed a soft smile, his face returning back to it's original form. The amiable one.

"Don't worry, I will be back soon."

***

"Why are all precious things kept in the attic?" Alan grunted.

His breath heaved as he climbed the timber staircase. His sapphire eyes gazed at the expansive sylvan room that spread afore, binded with shafts of sunlight that added warmth to the rustic arena. Unlike other commonly portrayed attics, the Alteiner's attic was one of the cleanest of all. Their mother Izra had a constant habit of tidying the room, since it was the only place in the whole of Caperwood that connected to Pandora.

Alan sighed aloud and shifted the thick strand of hair that bothered his forehead. He had seen this process along with his siblings. They had always sneaked into the attic and watched their parents, along with Avril, teleport to the magical realm using the portkey for the counseling sessions. Izra would take out the gilded treen chest from the upper cabinet where the hidden portkey resided.

The glistening ametrine gemstone rested in a soft ivory cloth surrounded by fluffy cushions and sleekly connected the magical and mortal realm with a simple touch.

However, this was where our manipulating protagonist faced his first obstacles. According to all the magical information retrieved from his brainy sister Arabella, the ametrine portkey only required two simple steps to work:

1) Clasp the stone in both hands

2) Make your intention to your intended destination strong and clear

Simple, right? But this is where the mastermind of their mother played with their logic. Every time they had seen their parents teleporting to Pandora, Izra always had her lips moving in agility, indicating some sort of incantation recited. Mateo and Avril would clutch the gemstone securely, their eyes shut tight and Izra would continue her role in the process.

"It's a bait, guys," Arabella had answered coolly, when the remaining siblings had indulged in a serious discussion of 'How to reach Pandora' whilst their parents and Avril traveled to the magical realm.

"Mom's got a sharp sixth sense if you have noticed, she must have had a premonition that we idiots were lurking in the attic, so I definitely think this is one of her clever strategies."

"How was it when you had to go?" Adrius had inquired. Arabella was the only sibling given permission in the Alteiner's house (besides Avril) for research purposes.

"She did the same thing right?"

"Yes, but one of the Etherials I befriended says there is no such incantation," Arabella revealed to their astonishment.

"To access a magical portkey, all you need is a handful of courage, a strong and clear intention and faith in magic."

Arabella's statement muddled Alan's brain as he sought to retrieve one more memory related to Pandora; the one from Avril.

"I don't know, Alan," Avril had replied helplessly when questioned. "I always hated going there, so it would be better not to remind me of those incidents," his eyes shifted every time 'Pandora' was mentioned. Alan was aware of all the traumatic experiences his little brother underwent and decided not to bring up the topic again.

It was like a mind thesis – review the articles and references, collect information, verify credibility and draw a conclusion. Now, drawing a conclusion was entirely in the superhero's hand.

Alan treaded softly towards the wooden cabinet and reached for its timber handle. A mahogany treasure chest gilded with golden lines welcomed the visitor. Alan cautiously lifted the chest from its warm haven and placed it on the wooden cabinet.

He took a deep breath and relaxed the tensed muscles and tendons in his body. His hand made the heroic move and extended towards the fastened hasps. With each unbolting, his heart took a great leap, skipping every pulse in fear.

Slowly, Alan made his way towards the fawn-hued rigid lock. But, the key?

How foolish was Alan to make meticulous planning, arrive at the right destination and forget the most vital thing?

Alan facepalmed at his temporary amnesia and sought for ways to open the lock. As his eyes probed for places where the key was likely to be hidden, a ferocious gust of realization blew across his conscience.

Wait, I am a superhero, right?

He was one of the 0.1% population of Caperwood gifted with rare and precious qualities, so searching for a key would be the most mundane method, resembling the thought-process of the remaining 99.9% population.

Not that he can manipulate the non-living lock like 'Hey! Unlock yourself!', but surely he can use the extraordinary muscle power his father had incorporated in the supernatural pill which he had swallowed years ago.

Trusting Pandora and Mateo, Alan twisted the metal shackle of the lock with his thumb.

The shackle dismantled from the lock and fell to the ground. Alan's face immediately wore a smug but was half-disappointed since there was no one around to witness his remarkable act.

Slipping the broken lock into his pocket, Alan mentally made a note to replace the lock with a new one as soon as he got back from Pandora.

Alan cautiously opened the chest. The ametrine gemstone rested between the cushions and sparkled colours of bright light, barring the superhero's eyes.

Alan made a scrupulous move in handling the portkey, which was now perched on his broad palms. He gazed at it's intricate cutting and awed it's appearance. Immediately, Alan held the portkey firmer and made his intention strong and clear.

Pandora's Pacting Magistrate

After hearing stories of how wrong words told can lead to awful situations, Alan was determined to spell it out loud. However, before he could make his move, his body levitated in the air.

The ametrine glowed brighter and Alan's torso began twirling within the attic. A strong gale engulfed the superhero and Alan realized the attic disappearing from his sight.

The gale increased the current altitude as Alan's body soared in the air, spinning rapidly.

Alan's muscles tightened, his body ached and no sooner did he realize that his breathing was hindered.

The gale blew stronger and Alan was swamped with apprehension.

Will I make it out alive?

As his breathing became alarmingly difficult, the gale's intensity steadily mitigated. Alan twirled a little slower as his feet slowly descended.

On reaching the ground, the gale diffused into the atmosphere, giving a clear view of the destination reached.

Before Alan was a large ornate building, painted in tinges of azure, buzzing with busy people.

Alan read the silver name plaque and smiled.

Mom, you are such a trickster!