"Shoot!" Rose muttered under her breath as she stepped outside, the rain still pouring down in torrents. With a wary glance at her watch she decided to simply pull her hood up and brace the weather. It was either go all the way back up to her apartment, five floors without an elevator, and get her umbrella, or make it to the train station on time. She did not have to think twice about her choice. A little bit of water from above wouldn't foil her plans.

She pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders as she strode down the street, a grey mass of people pushing by her in a rush, heading home for the weekend. Carefully avoiding the puddles, she zigzagged her way to the bus-stop. When the outline of the bus appeared like a greyish giant behind a curtain of rain a bit further down the street, she increased her pace, swearing as she misstepped and landed her right foot ankle deep inside a puddle. The bus turned out to be uncomfortably full, the air stuffy despite the chill. She squeezed herself into an empty seat, dropping her bags on the floor in front of her. The raindrops dripped down her hood and onto her lap and she was dearly hoping that the hotel she had booked would have the heating all the way up. The trip was slow and she had to rush from the bus to the train station. Only fifteen minutes were left for the train to leave. She rummaged through her bag, blindly fumbling for the ticket while her eyes scanned the destination board for the right platform.

"Oh, you can't be serious!" She groaned, throwing the board a reproachful glare and wistfully ignoring the indignant stares from an elderly couple beside her. The numbers and letters blinked incessantly, telling her with as much precision as indifference that her train had been moved to a different platform. Platform 17, to be exact, that was the last one and the one furthest away from the entrance. She had exactly eight minutes to get there. And the entire train station to cross.

Trying to ignore the squelching noise in her right shoe she broke into a near run. She careened around people hauling their luggage, parents gripping their kids' hands tightly so they wouldn't get lost in the crowd, tourists stopping right in the middle to have a discussion about which way to head to the taxi stand. She clutched at her bags, skidding along. Four more minutes left. Platforms 9 and 10 flew past her, and the thought flitted through her mind, if there was indeed another platform hidden behind that solid brick wall. She waltzed through a group of school children, handing out excuses left and right for pushing aside kids that looked no older than ten. She tried to blend out the impolite words their teachers threw after her.

Platform 17 was now right ahead. Two minutes left. She decided to skip the escalator, which was packed with travellers, and headed for the stairs instead. The penetrating horn of the approaching train cut through the air. She hurtled up the stairway, taking two steps at a time, the platform finally in sight.

"This glade better be worth all this!" she grumbled to herself, panting heavily as the train doors opened with an angry hissing sound.

As she made her way through the wagons, she felt somewhat relieved that the train seemed nearly empty. Apparently not many people wanted to go where she was headed to. Rose found a quiet compartment all to herself, dumped her baggage on one seat and then let herself sink onto the seat beside the window. She took off her shoes, the right sock all soaked through. For a moment she considered changing into a fresh pair, but refrained from doing so when she realised that her shoe would still be wet. At the hotel she would dry herself up and hopefully be able to rest, so tomorrow she would get a fresh start. She exhaled a long breath, allowing her heartbeat to slow down and a small smile dawned on her face. Finally, her journey had begun.

The hotel turned out all right, it was small and cosy and offered her enough privacy not to feel under observation by neither the owners nor the other guests. It was more of a guesthouse though and the small village it was situated in, was really just that: small. Trying to imagine Melinda being confined to such a remote place for a whole weekend, brought an amused smile to her face. She would have most likely died of boredom. A few dozen houses, two tiny shops, an inn with a dubious looking facade, a school and a church were the only other buildings besides the guesthouse. But no one had asked any questions and she gladly retired to her room, finally peeling herself out of all those wet garments. She filled the tub after having decorated the heater with a selection of her clothes as well as her shoes. Her stomach grumbled when she dried herself up, but she wasn't in the mood of paying a visit to that inn, the windows damp, and the colours somewhat faded, so she decided to munch on part of the provision she had brought for her hike. Tomorrow morning she would replenish her supplies in one of the two shops. She pulled on her pyjamas, grabbed her book, and slid into bed, tired of today's trip and excited about tomorrow's adventure.

When she wrapped her fingers around the warm brown leather it was like welcoming an old friend. The surface was worn and rugged with all the use it had gotten throughout the years, the pages yellow and stained. How many times she had held it in her hands, she could not remember. She could not even remember how it had gotten into the possession of her family. It had just always been there and one day her mother had given it to Rose, allowing her to take a look at it, although she used to tell her that it was of no real use, written in a language no one could understand. According to her mother someone in the family had found it in an antiquarian-bookshop and bought it just because of the nice and colourful images. Rose though liked to think of it as the creation of some dubious ancestor, who possibly had a penchant for toying around with words and imaginary places.

But even when Rose was still too little to read, in whatever language known or not known to mankind, she simply used to enjoy the beautiful drawings and the map it included. It became her own personal treasure which she would take with her wherever she went, awakening her own interest in languages and the magic of words. The book even seemed to seep into her dreams, filling them with strange and beautiful images. Her mind took her to places she had never set foot in, magical and dangerous. Until suddenly things were about to become real.

Last week during one of her many dreams she felt something like knowledge shifting from the shadows into the light, like the pieces of a puzzle falling into place. Rose had suddenly awoken with a consciousness that had not been there before. She knew now where she needed to go. She hadn't really figured out the map like she had told Melinda. That was the story she had served her friend, since admitting that some unearthly vision in her dreams had suddenly revealed to Rose the location of this secret place, would have only fuelled Melinda's impression of Rose being thoroughly nuts. But be that as it may, here she was, and she knew that if she allowed that inner voice to guide her, it would lead her to the right place.

She barely slept that night, her dreams wild and frightening as she found herself sprawled on the grass, a sea of white flowers around her. There was only white light and then eternal darkness on the other side.