Rose's first day at work turned out not quite the way she had expected.

Ms. Odinsen had sent her to help Alan with the task he had begun to work on during her absence. It consisted of cataloguing acquisitions from a generous private donor, who had wished to remain anonymous, and had graced the library with some unexpected treasures from his private collection. Those tomes and leather-bound volumes had been temporarily stored in the "bunker", as Rose and Alan had jokingly baptised it. It was a vault housing damaged books, waiting to be sent to the bookbinder, discarded shelves in dire need of fixing, as well as the odd piece of furniture, including a squishy armchair Rose had grown quite fond of, despite its moth-eaten cover. The "bunker" was a place Rose usually found homey and comfortable.

Today, not so much.

The only reason things actually hadn't turned from a medium-sized disaster into a full-blown catastrophe, had been due to the fact that Ms. Odinsen, contrary to her usual rigid rules about sticking to working hours down to the very second, had sent her home early; of course, not without extracting from Rose the promise of being available for extra hours beginning the next morning. Rose had gladly agreed to it, if it allowed her to leave behind the underground space. Not even her favourite beaten-by-old-age armchair had been able to change the feeling of claustrophobic anxiety that had befallen her.

She hadn't found the courage to explain to Alan her jittery responses, why she had flinched when he had accidentally brushed her hand, passing her one of the large volumes they had been cataloging. There was no way she could have told him, or even less Ms. Odinsen, the real truth behind her jumpiness. She was sure that if her boss ever found out she'd spent her weekend as a flower, she'd be most likely out of work faster than she could say the word book.

As soon as she exited the library, Rose swallowed the fresh air in anxious gulps. Leaning against the heavy wooden door, she savoured every single breath filling her lungs. She rubbed a hand over her forehead, only then realising that little beads of sweat had formed, dampening the tiny hairs around her face. Rummaging in her pockets, she pulled out a tissue to wipe away the chilly droplets. She really needed to get a grip on herself and not allow the new revelations about her grandmother to tear down her efforts to regain her footing. After inhaling a few more times and assuring herself she wasn't going to be suddenly deprived of oxygen, she shouldered her bag and began her trip home.

Hopefully the bus wouldn't be too packed. She shuddered at the thought of having to spend more time in a confined space, crammed with lots of people. Under different circumstances she might have simply evaded the can of sardines on wheels by walking home, but not today. Her feet still were sore from yesterday's trek in those damned useless elvish shoes, besides, she was tired and longed to be back in the safe space of her little apartment. She wanted to snuggle up on the sofa with a steaming mug of tea, a book in her hand and Antares purring on her lap. Yes, that sounded like the perfect way to end her first day of her not-quite-yet-regained normal human life.

Rose took the bus and suffered through thirty minutes of being squeezed between a mother wrangling with her shrieking toddler and an elderly guy loudly complaining about the kid's inconsolable wailing. When the crowded vehicle spat her out with just one block to walk home, she welcomed the freedom and buried her hands in the pockets of her coat, protecting them from the chilly autumn wind.

The skies had been overcast, but with the fading day, the gloomy grey had darkened to a near-black graphite. The streets were busy with people heading home from work and shoppers rushing to the stores before closing time, some of them juggling bags, kids, and  even once in a while a dog. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing supernatural, no magic. Everything was as it should be.

Why was it then that a strange sense of foreboding had lodged itself inside her chest like the thorns of a thistle? It was like she was waiting for something to happen without knowing what that might be. Shaking her head angrily at her own silliness, she pushed away the disconcerting thoughts. Once she was home she would take a relaxing shower, warm up whatever she found in her fridge for dinner and then treat herself to a quiet evening of reading. Surely tomorrow things would be looking a lot brighter than today.

She had finally made herself comfortable on her sofa, the much anticipated cup of hot tea on the table beside her. Her mail lay more or less thoroughly read on the table, the letter opener resting on top of the stack of envelopes. This curious object was another heirloom from her elusive grandmother, which, after her mother's revelations, suddenly appeared in a new light.

As a little girl she had always admired the jewel-encrusted hilt and the way the gems used to sparkle in the sunlight. Its wood-and-glass encasement had been almost as pretty as the pointy item itself. Only last year, on her twenty-first birthday, her mother had deemed Rose old and worthy enough to receive the letter opener as a gift. Her mother never divulged the history behind it—she had told her that she had no idea how it had gotten into the family's possession—but Rose had been so happy to have been presented with it, that she embraced its mystery as an added bonus. Now she wasn't so sure if she ever wanted to uncover its origins.

Antares was curled on her lap and the journal she was reading, the most recent copy of Librarian's Monthly, which she had 'borrowed' from the library, was carefully propped up against the cat's fluffy back. She had barely finished the first paragraph about a new cataloguing software, when there was a sudden rattling sound at the window. At first, she tried to ignore it, thinking that it was just the wind but Antares raised his head, sending the book sliding to the floor.

"Oh, come on, Ms. Odinsen will go ballistic on me if this gets damaged!" She bent down to pick up the journal before the pages would get dog-eared while Antares sprang away, jumping onto her desk which stood right by the window. Rose inspected the pages, making sure they were all intact, but the racket outside increased, the rattling now accompanied by the sound of something dull hitting the glass pane at irregular intervals. Soon she wouldn't be able to ignore it any longer. She looked up, but the gauzy curtains didn't allow her to see what was causing the clamour outside. Whatever it was, Antares was facing it. His arched back, ears laid flat and his tail all puffed up meant that he was ready for an attack.

Rose's heart climbed to her throat, her hands turning cold and clammy. This couldn't just be another cat outside. This was the fifth floor and things didn't just materialise outside her window. She scanned the living room for something she could use as a weapon. Her gaze settled on the fancy letter opener. She hesitated for a moment, but now wasn't the time to dwell on heirlooms. Rose wrapped her fingers around the hilt, its weight giving her some reassurance. Antares was perched atop a stack of papers on her desk, keeping a safe distance from the curtain.

"It's all right, I've got it," she said more to herself than to him. For a moment the thought of the elves coming after her crossed her mind and panic squeezed like a barbed wire around her throat. No, that was simply impossible. They had let her go. Why would they now come after her? Besides, they didn't know where she lived and even elves with all their supernatural powers couldn't scale a building so easily unless they were related to Spiderman. If they were after her, they would certainly be more stealthy.

"Right, I can do this. Nothing to be afraid of." She gripped the curtain's edge with one hand, brandishing the small blade in the other, ready to slash at whoever was out there, disturbing her newfound peace. What she saw, was altogether unexpected and almost made her drop the letter opener in surprise.

"An owl!" she cried both in surprise and relief.

The bundle of feathers kept flapping its wings at a frantic pace, its beak knocking at the window pane and it seemed to Rose that its yellow eyes stared at her in a mixture of exhaustion and annoyance.

Rose quickly dropped the letter opener, pulling the curtains fully apart to be able to open the window. "Oh my, it looks totally worn out."

Antares was definitely opposed to allowing the strange guest in. He only hissed and arched his back even more, his hair sticking out as if he were a black porcupine. "Don't be like that, Antares, the poor birdie probably got lost somewhere and needs a place to rest."

Antares stared without blinking at the feathered creature suspended in the night sky, his hissing now turning into a menacing growl.

"There will be no attacking." She raised her finger sternly at him and then shooed him off the desk, just to be sure. Having him chase an owl inside her apartment would translate into a complete mess and days of picking feathers from every nook and cranny.

When she was sure Antares was far enough away, she unlocked the window. The moment the latch gave way, the owl toppled onto her desk like an exploded ball of feathers, sending papers flying everywhere as it skidded across the surface.

"Whoah, careful there!" Rose shouted, but luckily a stack of books piled up at the edge of the desk prevented it from tumbling to the floor. The owl fought to regain its momentum, scrambling into a standing position, its plumage in utter disarray. The jet black feathers that seemed plucked from the night sky gradually turned into mottled brown and grey as the owl neatly arranged them with its beak.

Rose blinked and squinted, not quite sure if her eyesight might be deceiving her. She knew next to nothing about owls but she was sure they were not known for being able to change the colour of their plumage. Maybe she was just tired or had mistaken the colours due to the low light inside her living room.

At least it didn't appear to be injured. The wings looked intact and there was no sign of blood anywhere. A thousand questions zoomed through her brain. What did owls eat? Did they need water? Or perhaps she should get some towels to build a nest?

While Rose pondered what to do next, the owl had begun to look around curiously, strutting across the desk, talons clicking on the wooden surface, as if it wanted to shake off the first impression of the less than graceful landing. It was only now that Rose noticed the small rolled up paper it carried tied to one of its legs.

"Are you a messenger?" she asked, realising at the same time that the owl of course wouldn't understand her. Yet to her surprise the bird stalked closer, hopping onto the stack of books where it held out the leg with the paper tied to it.

"You must be mistaken. I'm not expecting any messages. You probably took a wrong turn somewhere and ended up at my place by mistake." Why was she talking to the owl? This wasn't Antares, who seemed to always understand her.

He, apparently being highly suspicious of the bird, was only now inching closer, ears still flat and hairs sticking up like tiny spikes.

"You better stay where you are if you don't want me to lock you up in the bathroom." She threw him a stern glance and he stopped his approach, yet his eyes never left the feathery intruder on the desk. The owl had by now noticed Antares too and narrowed its yellow eyes until they were nothing more but slits. If she didn't know any better Rose would have said the two animals were having a staring contest.

"Don't worry," she said to the owl. "He won't harm you. I'll make sure of that. I can get a box ready with some towels for you to spend the night and then tomorrow morning you can be on your way again."

Yet the owl was still holding up its leg as if it expected Rose to take the paper. It clicked its beak impatiently and made strange hooting noises.

Rose shook her head and ran a hand through her locks. "I told you already. I'm not expecting any messages, especially not delivered by an owl. You better keep this for the intended recipient. I'm sure they would be upset if I were to read someone else's private correspondence."

The owl hopped on top of the books as if it were performing a strange dance, clicking its beak and flapping its wings which strangely seemed to shift colours again as the animal moved.

Rose shrugged and raised her palms up in the air. "I really don't know what you're trying to tell me, but if you're hungry I could check in the kitchen, but I don't think I have—"

"Human, if you're not going to take this message, which is clearly intended for you and no one else, right this instant, I swear I'm going to drop my pellet right here on top of your precious books. I haven't flown all night and a full day, wasting my time for nothing. I'm a busy owl after all and not some stupid messenger bird. Also, I do not get lost, ever."

Rose stood with her mouth agape, staring at the owl, as she tried to make sense of what she had just heard. She opened and closed her mouth several times until she finally made it work.

"This...this is a joke," she said slowly, "someone is playing a trick with me. This must be one of those modern toys that can be programmed to speak, like those Furbies my brother Michael used to have."

"Are you calling me a joke?" The owl pointed one of its wings at its chest.

"Owls d...don't speak," she stuttered.

"Most owls don't, but that doesn't mean that none do. We chameleon owls certainly do have the ability to speak, just like we can also change the colour of our plumage. You kept staring at me as if there was something wrong with my feathers. Don't think I haven't noticed." The owl lifted one of her wings and flapped it in front of Rose's face.

"Ch—chameleon owls? I've never heard of that."

"That's because we're very rare and not native to the Upper World."

"U...upper world?" Rose repeated.

"Yes, the lands of the humans." Rose seemed to detect a trace of condescendence in the owl's voice. It must be a technically advanced model of whatever weird robotic creature. What if this was a drone and she was being recorded?

"Oh," Rose said, still none the wiser, but she didn't want to appear less intelligent than she was by asking the owl even more questions. She might have to google it later.

"I'm Nebula by the way," the bird said as if she were introducing herself to people on a daily basis and this were the most normal thing for her to do.

Rose swallowed and her voice got nearly stuck in her throat. "I'm Rose." She felt like a complete fool as the words came out.

"I know. I came here to deliver a message for you, so now that we've gone over the formalities, can you please untie the paper from my leg. I have been carrying it for many hours and my leg is beginning to itch."

After another moment of hesitation, Nebula gave her a distinctly annoyed glare. Rose forced her hands to move but she couldn't bring her mouth to formulate a coherent sentence. She wordlessly reached for the paper on the owl's leg. A myriad of thoughts flickered through her head while her fingers worked shakily on untying the string around the bird's leg.

What if it was true? What if there were talking owls? She had seen elves, so it wasn't such a far stretch to imagine an animal being capable of speech. But, no! She pushed that idea far away. She didn't want to be thinking about those blasted elves again. When the string had finally come loose from Nebula's leg, she rolled the paper between her fingers, staring curiously at her name and address written in a loopy handwriting that looked completely unfamiliar.

"Aren't you going to open it?" Nebula pushed her. "It's kind of urgent."

This owl wasn't just a talking owl, it was an extremely bossy talking owl, who was obviously expecting Rose to talk back to her. She wasn't sure she could do this without starting to scream or having a mental breakdown; or she could simply pretend for a few moments that this was actually a completely normal occurrence. For the sake of tranquility, she chose option three. It wouldn't do to have the neighbours knocking at her door and asking her if she was going insane, or having to call the ambulance, because she thought she might be hallucinating.

She took another deep breath and looked Nebula straight in the eyes.

"Y—you know what's inside?" Rose forced her voice to stay even.

"More or less." Nebula clicked her beak and hopped from the stack of books onto the backrest of Rose's chair.

Heart beating wildly in her chest, Rose willed her fingers to be steady as she untied the knot around the paper and unrolled it.

She had only read the first two lines when her hands began to tremble and sweat crawled up her spine.

"No," she said, shaking her head, "no, no...this can't be. This must be a mistake." She held up the paper in front of Nebula's face. "I'm....I was...they let me go," she stammered. "I...I don't want anything to do with these—" she paused, not wanting to say the word that had caused her so much pain "—elves." She rolled up the message again and held out the paper to Nebula. "You found the wrong person."

"No, I didn't. You are the one I was sent to find and believe it or not, you are in grave danger."

"No, no, I'm not. This is a lie. You're making this up." Rose covered her ears with her hands. "They let me go. I'm free and...and I need to go to sleep now because I have to work again tomorrow." She fumbled to retie the paper and tried to attach it again to Nebula's leg but the owl evaded her by flying up to the curtain rail.

"I don't think it's a good idea for you to go to work. You should be lying low or take an extended holiday somewhere far away. Isn't that what you humans do for fun?"

"What? That's completely out of the question! How do you think that would work? I can't just leave my job. I only came back today and I have to make up for the days I've missed. Besides, this is complete nonsense. No one is after me."

"You should read the entire message. I did not spend all those hours flying from Elysse for nothing. Then you will believe me."

"Fine," she said. Against her better judgement, her curiosity won over the dread that had begun to uncoil in her stomach like a venomous snake.

Reluctantly she unfolded the paper again and read through the remaining lines. When she got to the end she crumpled the paper between her fingers and dropped it as if she'd burned herself.

Andor.

That was the name at the bottom.

Andor, the elf who had taken her life and turned her into a flower.

The one who had watched her suffer and done nothing to help her.

He had written the note.

This could only be a trap and she wouldn't be so stupid to fall for it.

Bile rose in her throat and breathing suddenly became difficult. This needed to end now. No more elves and no more talking owls and certainly no communicating through strange stones.

"Do you believe me now?" Nebula croaked from her vantage point high above Rose.

Rose slowly raised her eyes and then narrowed them. "I believe it's time that you left." She yanked open the window, the chilly night air quickly filling the room. "Now." She pointed at the sky and without looking at Nebula she said, "Get out of my house!"

"But I'm only the messenger. It's not my fault things have gone all wrong. And I've been flying for hours. I'm tired. I need to rest." She flapped her wings, her claws still wrapped around the curtain rail. "And I'm thirsty too. Could I get some water?"

"I don't care. Don't make me climb up there to get you down." Rose reached for the letter opener and pointed it at Nebula. "I want you gone this instant. Out of my house and out of my life and never, ever bring me a message from an elf again if you don't want me to feed you to my cat." Rose had no idea where Antares was. Maybe he had taken refuge under the sofa once Nebula had begun to talk. It didn't matter now. She only needed to get rid of that annoying ball of feathers.

When Nebula still didn't move, Rose let out a long sigh. "I'm going to count to three and if you're as smart as you pretend to be, you're out of here by the time I get to two."

"Fine, fine," Nebula spread her wings and hopped onto the window-sill. "And I always thought that humans were less prone to violence."

"One..."

"You know, you and Andor are undoubtedly the most stubborn people I have ever met," Nebula said.

"Two..." Rose's face turned red with anger.

"You two would make a fine pair." She clicked her beak and spread her wings.

"Three." Rose raised the letter opener high over her shoulder and thrust it at the windowsill, embedding it into the wood where Nebula had sat just a fraction of a second ago.

"We'll meet again," Nebula called from outside, suspended in the night sky, "if you like it or not."

Rose pulled out the blade from the wood, shutting the window closed with a bang. "Never!" she yelled and she meant it.

She should have never let this miserable creature into her home. Now she was stuck with an extremely unsettling message from the one person she never wanted to see or hear from ever again.

Without looking at where she had dropped the paper, she headed straight for bed, determined to seek a few hours of respite from this constant nightmare her life had turned into.