Here this is the chapter. It isn't that long as there are a lot of things I had to edit this week. Hopefully next chapter will be longer.

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INK sails on a glass poem, lingering further north. Matched in an alternate fiery view, a fairytale twined beneath each words dragged and curved at inquiste lines on dried, coffee-stained, withered pages. It is dripping broken metaphor, paradox and the imagery that saturnate with the theme and the idea laughed at budding dreamers. Fairytale is managed with the entire plot, and it formulates plethora of questions. As hues bloomed like huff of puffy clouds in the minds of seedlings, drifting was the milky jagged waves lit on an endless path of a black puddle. It is mesmiretic and an illusional shackle that holds one's vision, grasping kisses of glances that finds it hard to leave. It is like they are all being captured in the earnest light and all these patterns and lines that pours beautiful aesthetics splashes on the canvas in dripping form. The form of Harry Potter canverned in realism was this chapter, was their life. Dark wizards, creatures all rooted from non-existence, but existing, folded adventure from beyond the galaxy of the stars and the night beauty that lives magical existence. This moment was dropped on the track of a sailor who sailed beyond oasis. And that was what was traversing in the minds of Jo, Tori and Jack. The only three who caught the starlight nature and the gorgeous flames of a fairytale vision. Asher was still asleep in his dark and oblique world. Although they had all settled in frenzy modes and awakening spirits, jumbled in slides of what may have happened to Asher, the poetic sight that channeled in their visions disrupted them and caressed their minds to the untold beauty. Jo being pressed to a tunneling vision, fanned the enigmatic sight and stained it with her blue iris that leveled it deep. The night seemed surreal, whimsical, enchanting like that of a fairytale. This was a fairytale, and etched on the canvas was scrawls of deep and thrilling swifts of ominiscents stories. Only this was a different change... because this was their story.  Far away from them was a night owl gliding in the cold summer breeze, it's flutter loud and a soft buzz. Amidst all that was the glowing beauty and romantic side of the night, something they have never seen... even Jo. She has catered under the stars as it held in her anxiety of what the world beholden after she left, her new sprung relationship with Asher, she didn't know exactly what she was feeling, if she loved him or not? But all this centered the plot of her mind and drove her to be mute for a while, only stretching those emotions underneath the starry wide and velvet sky. It held a penchant for her sacred and desperate words, something she never shared with anyone, even her parents had no clue of those brooding moments. No soul ever did. But today all this was different, she saw a shaded part of the world while gliding underneath the sky. Buzzing animatedly at their ears was the engine of the flying machine that parachuted the musical wind and ployed below the sky. It was fast, energetic, she had never experienced something as alive as this, even though her feelings for Asher had once felt like this.

The hum of that moment, evoked her to have a sight of the boy who had grasped all of her, once.

His jet ink hair dampened the hue of his forehead, creating a spiral of lines on them and brought out the dark beauty and gothic sketchings of an adonis, all this he held. This conveyed strange, yet old feelings from Jo. Her eyes sunk into the shadowed lines that pricked at the crook and crannies of his constructed loophole and built slope. Etched underneath his white skin was a gorgeous shade of freckles that marred his skin and gave her a remarkable sight of that Asher five years ago. His sharp jawline, and bluer eyes reminded her of how time had relatively passed by. And she knew where they were now was just how much they've spent far away from each other. They were never returning to that speck of a distance they used to be.

As Asher's head stayed hunched below Aaron's head, lively moments of their starlight memories stretched like blankets over the horizon that only Jo could see. Scattered they were arranged on the carriage, Sage sat right beside her due to her not so wants. Right at the side was a defenseless and mutinously courageous Tori who lived like a cracked shell but still not willing to give up. Jack admires the notches that earned all the sight of those who haven't caught the shrouded rose petal, significantly meaning the beauty of this world, and owning a small smile that lives a willing and hopeful soul. Aaron was a whisk away from her, just six feet, balancing an unconscious Asher in between the crook of his neck.

As time drifted by, she let her thought relocate to the same thing it always has been, only it faded away from that vision and brought her to the striking truth, the reality they were supposedly far away from and have forgotten with all this pile of distractions that had rooted at the growth of their minds. From her own logic, she knew they had all forgotten about this and were only searching on how to get out of here. The reality was that they had forgotten, their parents and what might have stolen their minds and hearts right now, most importantly her parents.

Her heart constricted at the thought of them and what they might be going through. Her sudden sullenness, let her receive a nudge from Aaron who sat opposedly adjacent to her. His encouraging smile and childishness let her face break into pieces of burning activeness and a wistful smile. He didn't let her go so easily and toyed with her dangerously, though holding her figuratively. He twisted his head and danced to the unraveling beauty of the shell downward, the place was so far away and when Jo, following the rhythm of this dangerous track but still going along with it, she saw what he meant. Cracks of strange but full of fantasy cried at each place. It is dull, not clear but enough for her to see the entailment of this world. It was a gorgeous, disoriented place. There was a dancing flame of people with rigorous and weird looking outfits of scrawny and dirty pieces. The carriage bucketed down near the silver ponds where silver ducks arranged themselves in a sequenced manner, all floating in the same pace and dusk of time, echoing in an unalive place with jargons of arrayed trees, and allowed her to have a mirage of herself been mirrored.

Wheezing out was stardust, floating at the aftermath as they rode on air again. Before springing back to the world above, the carriage scuttled on the fragrance of another setting. Loud merriment and juxtaposition of karaoke and clinking of glasses broke across the street from the shack that they all dawn in, while some played on the streets, all holding out a destination. Jumbles of card splayed on the street, strobe was orange from the overhead lamp street and that encouraged street performers line at the accounts of people's entertainment, all with splendous and thousands of talents that settles an image that only reflected in the sketchings and free and drunk words of Fairytale.

But fairytale wasn't real.

Letters of mesmerizing and uniqueness bled on Jo's blooming flowering thoughts. She was acquisitioned with this sight and she just wanted to explore, but she couldn't as she was trapped on a flying machine, travelling up the adversing hill with advanced lines that crested splotches of new adventures, all a lyric to a story. All this spreading like a familiar tale, as if all this had bloomed at a period of her life, but the words, the sights, they all reminded her of tales. This sudden discovery figmented Hubert crouched on a wooden chair and feeding them with tales of his own words, of his insight, and some time some else's insight. And now they were here becoming pieces of fairytale, just like the ones Hubert had always told them about.

She left, holding her questions to none particular. Soon they were handed out to Aaron. Her face was clouded with buzzing and impeccable thoughts all alternating with the hood she now held. She was hooded with questions and Aaron's spring smile gave her enough answers to know that he had a clue of all these questions that settled at her head and the tip of her tongue. Jo lolled to the musical tune of the rhytym of his eyes, his eyes projected into a blanket which was transluscent and she could trasparentely invade. Her stare was long, blinking the attention of what laid right in front of her and amusing their behaviour to her pattern, and that was a thing Jo knew she could supplement, she knew how to color the intricates of a human beign to that of her design, with just one stare.

She was blinded by answers and she needed them to bypass this strange setting they've transcluted themselves. Jo had never thought the old treehouse, she had blamed at her sightings of childhood, would ever be the animated figurine and doctorine to this sudden strage fictional world. However as the mysthical saying went on, "Things never expected always color a flavourful scene." These are one of the reasons she could not wander far away from the poems of her past, Hubert always flickered at the saturns of it all. His big smiles that endeavour his features to the furnishing old man he is, and an eloquent piece of an epitome of Asher. Registerity of the strain of their hair, even though Hubert had called the hue of a hair a wondering thought, that had remained unflickered until he stayed frozen on the bridge he had pupeteered himself. Their eyesight were as fast as a racing car, winding past the submissive familiarity of a sight they had measured and calculated, they were fast at brigading a thought, and the last of them all, they were interesting at words, they knew how to play the cards to their subjegated form. She entwined to that of the scene knitting at a close distance, sparkling the adoration of the wind's tuneeling and blissful pattern and falling at a mercilesss Aaron. He wasn't figuratively merciless, to the power Jo could supplement, usualyy everyone all fell at their knees at her stare, even though Tori's was quite manipulative, and concluding that ofher thoughts, but she had her own flme in this untold teller. She had her own track that levelled her to some standard at school, after all she was the Queen Bee at her school.

His smile was dazzling as her's and she felt helplessy taunted.

For the first time someone didn't fall for her trickery. Usually it had been Asher's moment gliding and crushing the fable she'd draped thescenery of her jagged scenarios, now it was this strange boy with midnight tussel, and eyes awaitingly wide for a feral dance of the tune of reality. She longed at Sage's appearnace, and the scarded outlet of her frame positioned right next to her symphony, discarded all the measures she had wanted to let out - she couldn't, not here, not right in front of Sage.

Her dark armour protuded a fear of silence, but Jo wasn't afraid, she wasn't afraid of her cold printed smiles that waved her away. She was only alikened to be mesmerized by her harshness towards this moments, afterall Asher was at the end of the pedestals.

"Dark glades here we dine." The host of their trip amongst the pattern of the wind, aligns at their existency. Jo still had no clue who he was, she hadn't had a ferocious moment to straighten their eye sight to the same height, with no hindernace. Though she thought of him to be a jailer like that of her, Asher, Tori and Jack, maybe they had given him no choice to wander the valley of their world to inquisite wide varies of numbers.

"Finally!" Sage breathed, aware of their lolled flame drank by them.

"Where are we?" Jo decided to ask, after a long time of impedicious thoughts.

She had no clue if Sage's eyes hitched her appearnce, because no matter how far she tranversed, she could feel the shadowed manner of Sage's highlighting her.

Finally after a chapter of descendant of striking control of time. "At the height of the cliff, we are almost at the Seven Glass of Palisades, where all that concludes at the fallout of upholstery. It's from this place, where my master subject his orders."

Jo could feel the impading power, the bouyancy of being free and levitated from this place, she was beaming with flair attidue at the mind setting she would soon divulge out of this place.

"It's sort of feels weird to be here again. You know it just captivates chill at the outlanders of my pride."

"You just left this place not long ago."

Aaron smiles, wasting to the hour of childishness. "I know but it feels special to be back."

Sage shakes her head in littered annoyance, while Jo muttered the blamelessness of a swan smile.

The flying contraption gave its way a path, that obilerate the movements and starlight future that ascend a road, and holds the might and striking utterance of what feathered its adoration. The sudden hold in the grasp of the telltale of the wind, mine the chisseled tracks that surrogated that of those who hadn't given their heart to a longing slurred world as this, as Sage and Aaron who have blanched this cane of traitorous feelings that shot through Jo, Asher, Tori and Jack. This scrawling went further, idling as fragments when the sight becomes a bedrock through the sharp cassetes that wailed its vision. It branched to a fade at the lines that shaped that of a raw artwork. It curved a shape and farther they were from the winds channel but close to the springs of their home hearts and finaly aleviating Asher to the whole he is.

The door opened, and Sage allowed her path to be the trailing one before Jo announced hers, it had gone like that, passing through the others before the door evades to blankness. The host of the swifting adventure, knock his hat to its head in a salute form, allowing words to acknowledge the allowance of air. Accordinly at that aggragation, it had widened the simplicity of his appeance and a gasp inked the mouth of Jo's. It didn't spread to the figments of her imagination, the one that had been colatteral to a fantasy alignment. Jo had to arise to that of the others who had made their track to bellow the gorge of the building that rocks a ripple manner, and as if laundring it blinks to non existent, and she graduated to the cracks that plaundered her in a surrendred holes.

Materialising at the veil before her eyes, she had craved for a wonderous trait, vanishing the sketchings of the rabbit to wallow in plummets of condensation and array herself to a path of familirarity. The watterfall dawnance defesnlensy caught the creaks and hole of a vibrating depth that sullens the breaking of air at it's prensence. The buoldin is far beautiful, the best artwork representation that had scrawled moon at it's shape at the back covers. There were dark green artefact, traitinlg from the hue that hopelesssy settle at dusk at the aspirant of the structute. It railed french designs, with splutters of the impading crawls of the British. Amidst the deliquency and the rich taste, a bright calling star paints the plots with her violency and starkinly brights palletes. A smile is a visional ekelment, and the theme of cream standard organised that of her character setting.

"Hey guys! You know master is still waiting for you both, he is getting crunchy, after an undelightful moments with B-"

Aarron called in their familiarity of the white that toyed the deep shades of her body. "They fought?" He is creviced in confusion that burroughs his structural outlines that deepens the lines crossed at his features.

The girl with the halo blonde hair shakes her head, admitting Aaron's statement, while a stressed sight joins the calls of Jo. "Yes, and promise me it wasn't happily earning." She fell at Aaron's entraptious gaze, before dusking to the unfamiliar pattern amicably close to her existence. Her eyes brightened immediately to Jo's surprise and she wore to their strides to keep the distance fitting, waving her hand in blinking calls. "Hi! I am Lhea. You all must be Johanna, Victoria, Jack and Asher... " Her sights ends at Asher's and she tracks to an unmovable beat, joining the dwindle that they had helplessly fallen into, before she straightened to a normal look, scrumptiously allowing her eyes to see that of Sage.

"Stuck in a dream beam, that old glimpse. Have you tried Solia?"

"Yes we have." Sage awards her with an answer.

"And what were the results?"

Sage looked strained and disallowed herself in a shell of stress alignment. "If I tell you we did that and you can see the state he is in, then why are you still asking?!" Explorantly at Sage, one could see the etchings that allowed her scriptures at pages, she was an allowance of distortness. Acknowledgments died at the moment at Sage's jewel of a behaviour, grazing a familiarity and in another twisted way not familiar. She hitched in a carnavans, before erasing herself from this clipped scenario and extinguishing into a bellow of fading existence.

The time interval took the pregnancy of words, a concluded stagnant piece, before it is cut into shredded outlays of a photography clip. In an unwavering motion, flickerance of Lhea embellish the cradling images of supposed shadings. "Well someone's in a bad mood."

Her engraved and jagged flow allowed her to caress the detects of our eyes.