The ethereal effect of the distant mountains framed by the tired rays of the sun, casts a reddish- orange light across the land and shadowy figures to dance amongst the waves of the lake below. Supposedly that same lake spans across miles to the base of those giant mountains, but alas my view is blocked by a peninsula of pines guarding the lake like well- trained sentries should. The serene waxing and waning of the waves before me, proof of the vigilance of those floras soldiers. I have no time to take in the awe- inspiring scene though, for I am running-

Running out of time

Running to see Her

Running to beat Fate's verdict

Just Running.

With each blow of my footsteps against the ground taken towards those waves my feet sink into the layer of moss that surrounds the lake shore. The soft, fibrous caress of the plant underfoot tickles my bare feet. The breeze silent, yet steady, blows through my unbound hair and passes my cheeks as if to say hello and goodbye with only a touch. All while the scarlet rays of light conquer the orange carefreeness of the sky.

With a bound I am splashing into the lakes embrace. The waters stirring around me pushing backwards at my hurried forward movement. Their clear crystal innocence transforming into blood, branding me the rich malevolent hue as well. Like a disease the scarlet coloring spreads from first my ankles to the whole of my legs, then to my torso. Following close after comes a rapid burning that consumes my attention like fire on paper. Soon I can feel the spread of scarlet all over the outside of my body and it is then that the plague of red leaks into the core of my being.

Still my course cannot be altered, for I must reach Her. Each step I take is felt throughout my whole body through the pins that start at the sole of my foot and spark throughout the whole of my being. But even so I plow ahead through the furious mass of liquid power. A freezing burn now fighting with the already existing flames of pain shooting through my body. With another few steps, what I've been searching for in these malignant waters finally appears.

A semi-oval path carved into the dense forest of pines found on the peninsula hidden behind curtains of moss. I am more than halfway through the part of the lake that I need to pass through to get to the path. With water up to my waist and waves that crash just above my head, my journey is severely hindered, but I endure. Spluttering for breath, I am a step from the path, and then I am in the stomach of the beast.

The loud silence that echoes around the unwelcoming dark of my pathway makes my run turn into a sprint. Tree branches snatch at me, roots come up from their earthy resting place for me to trip on, and trunks appear in the middle of my path each time I turn. The darkness is overwhelming, for with the never- ending pattern of tight knit triangles no speck of light is allowed inside this realm. Except for the proverbial light at each end of the tunnel, I am surrounded by a night without stars to guide my way. The uncomfortable mixture of scratching and poking by pine needles underfoot reminds me of my path- for I am no longer ignorant with moss to comfort my steps and to shield my eyes. I have knowledge of what He has done to me- to Her and unlike every one of His other victims I Will Fight Back. It is with this acceptance of my journey that I run without hesitation towards the light. Even so a feeling of sand draining from an hourglass in the back of my mind acknowledges that failure is imminent.

My fight against the hellish plants becomes more vicious as the blinding light becomes brighter and brighter, bigger and bigger. My desperation for the end of the tunnel, the end of this journey, the end makes every step I take a relief, even though the pain. Ten arm lengths away, then seven, five, two, one... And the light engulfs me.

Screaming

Screaming

Screaming

Agony filled cries are all I can hear. I am too late. I have failed my mission, and now the world around me suffers for it. A groan of pain shifts the world around me, sending the mountains shooting into the sky, rocky roots left trailing after them and debris falling to the ground below. A second tormented moan sends the pines around me after the mountains. The third sound of anguish sends the lake up into the air as a furious mass of fervent blood. The next scream sends me rocketing into the air, my ears screaming in pain from the sudden decrease of pressure in the air. My fear of height sends my brain into a frozen stasis of fear. The screams still don't cease- each echo ending only when another begins.

When I come to a halt and my fear begins to abate, my gaze sweeps across the barren land before me. Contrary to the paleness of the land it seemed to be radiating with rich tones of health, the landscape decorated with deep grooves and shadows mixed with pits and risings. The features throw me off, the familiar pattern they indicate makes no sense. I mentally take a step back and allow myself to take a look at the big- picture, and with another sweep of my gaze the patterns that had once been confusing now make sense. For while I was staring at the world below, it was staring right back at me.

A face that was what I had been missing while only looking at the features of the landscape... face. The simplicity of it was what had tricked me, for when I saw a nose, I had believed it only to be a trick of the imagination instead of an actual nose. A third sweep of the land...face, reveals a very cunning expression with a very angular face shape, high cheek bones, a perfect straight nose, and deep dark black, bottomless eyes.

"MEGAERA," she called out to me.

Even though I had never seen this woman before I knew without hesitation or thought how she knew of my name, for it was only logical that a mother would know the name she gave to her own child. Mother. My mother whom I was taken from at birth. My mother who sacrificed herself so I could escape His laboratories. My mother whom I could not save from Him. I am-

A Failure

A-Falling

Failing

Falling

All while my gaze is lost in Her eyes, their darkness surrounding me like a blanket. A blanket that comforts just as much as it separates a person from the outside world. It was as I was free falling into the darkness, my ears screaming in pain from the ever- increasing pressure, that any knowledge I had of my mother leaked from my consciousness. I was alone, weightless, and afraid. I would never again remember this experience for-

It was all naught but a dream.

--------------------------------------------------------

The light is blinding. I haven't even attempted to open my eyes yet, and a headache of epic proportions has arisen because of the blasted light. The distant sound of chattering is no better. It would be just like Annalisa and Bethany, my roommates at the children's shelter, to devote their time at O' dark thirty in the morning, for keeping me awake with talk of what is almost always: A. None of their business, and B. a general waste of breath. And more importantly, my sleep.

What they don't seem to be able to understand is that some of us, meaning me, need sleep in the morning because they, me, stayed up all night studying for the latest science test. But, alas, my roommates are inept at thinking, let alone understanding. So sympathy over working one's butt off while inside all four of the school's walls is incomprehensible, let alone the idea of picking up a textbook outside of class.

Their reaction isn't much better when I try to enlighten them on the importance of constant effort in school, so that the payout- a successful career where a person, I, can be intellectually challenged, and have a chance at being content in life. Their response, was to inform me that they don't need school because they will both marry equally wealthy men, who will wait on their every whim. All while being a constant drain on resources and a waste of space.

Yes, their noise is typically annoying, but now it is completely unbearable- worse than the insufferable light, for I am almost completely positive that the noise is giving me indigestion. Well it's either the noise or I'm just-

-Nauseous, yes I am nauseous. There is no way of doubting that after almost getting a taste of food already eaten or a second time, but that doesn't mean I can blame it all on the damned noise.

Listening closer to the outrageous racket all while gaining consciousness, I begin to pick up two distantly familiar voices intertwining together and then jumping up solo only to repeat the pattern as if they were fencing with only voices. These voices definitely don't belong to either Bethany or Annalisa. How could it be them, when the voices I hear are passionate about their argument? In contrast to my roommate's screeching whines that have just as much passion as arguing about which 20+ year older man they wish would come and sweep them off their feet, can.

"Damn it all! She was safe, what would possess you to do that?" Sounded the first of the two voices.
His voice rasped at the end; as though he were typically a soft- spoken, calm- spirited man. Therefore unused to arguing at the top of his lungs. Alas though, in the height of this anger he was highly emotional, and even more unfortunately for my stomach, extremely loud.

'Nikodemus,' a voice from the back of my head tells me. 'His name is Nikodemus, and he is-'

"I was ordered to," came the reply in a harsh, steady, and exceedingly flippant voice.
This voice spoke with soft, pronounced clarity as if each word pained him. His reply gave hints of irony; as if someone telling him what to do where something out of a fairy tale, and him actually following through with another's demands something out of someone's delusional dreams.

'Xiscerus,' comes the ringing voice within my skull. 'And, yes, it is quite out of character for him to follow orders,' the voice laughs out.

Voice number one, Nikodemus, seems to share my opinion, for his reply comes in incomprehensible mumblings. None the less, the argument ends with voice number two's, Xiscerus', sarcastic response of 4 words; which obviously hold actual meaning to Nikodemus, instead of the conjecture that reveals itself to me. I snort to myself. The story behind that information must be... interesting.

'Oh my dear, you don't even know the half of it,' the female voice in my head chortles this time.

'Who are you? And what are you doing in my head?' I demand this time. I mean really, you can only go so long before ignoring the voices...errr voice in your head becomes impossible.

'Why I am not surprised, that you start out with possibly the most complicated questions first. I have many names, it happens to those of us who are orphans to society. I think it would be best if you call me Maga. Let's just say that one day it will be a bit of a practical joke, between us girls. Now as for what I'm doing here, well-'

"Eavesdropping, how like you."

Startled by Xiscerus' sudden close proximity and strange but very accurate accusation, I open my eyes. I am met with guess what. Yes, that's right- more blasted light! Light without an origin or a death place, without a beginning or an end, light without a stupid off- switch or at the very least a dimmer.

After my eyes adjust to the lighting, they roam around the room I find myself in. Black walls and white floors and ceilings surround me. Either the black walls are inept at absorbing the hellish light, the white ceiling and floor reflect too much light, or both. For specs of light reflect off every flat surface; bobbing and blinking to shine directly into my poor, abused eyes.

So distracted by my alien surroundings, I forget to inquire on the fairly personal comment made by Xiscerus. In fact so distracted am I by my surroundings, I forget to ask where on earth I am, or even more importantly why exactly am I not still in the bed I remember falling asleep in last night. Or at least I assume it was last night, I don't actually know when Now is.

'It's the 7thVersear hour of the 23rd Versear day of the 8th out of 12 Verear parts of a Versear year. Otherwise known as the amount of time it takes for the Universe to expand .0000000007%.' The voice, Maga, cheerfully informs me. So in simplified terms, Now is the morning after I fell asleep last night.

Speaking of falling asleep last night- the bed I am currently laying on, to my sheer delight, relieves all aches and pains from my back and neck gained due to my habit of finding the oddest nooks and crannies to hide in. Any quiet time I could find away from the other children in the shelter was considered glorious and worth any back pain that came with such cramped spots. But that doesn't mean that I can't take advantage of the opportunity to relieve myself of them.

'I always thought so as well,' Maga comments. 'If you look closer, you'll find that the bed is made up a bunch of tiny particles- magnets surrounded by a Pechat pod that has the most useful property of being able to seal away objects inside of itself permanently. So when the magnets are repelled, like on the bed you are laying on, they cannot escape the soft casing of the pod. And there you go, floating magnets incased in Pechat pods make up quite comfortable beds, and chairs too for that matter.'

'What are you? You never answered me,' I demand of Maga.

'Let's just say that as of right now, I am your personal guide to this...place. Now go ahead and continue your exploration of your surroundings,' she commands me, so I do.

Across from and perpendicular to my bed stand two white opaque double doors that interrupt the flow of the otherwise black walls. Ugh! Those walls; I don't understand how light can reflect off of them, for typically black absorbs light. Not these misfits of walls! Oh no, light reflects off in a pattern where no matter which way my head is turned, there seems to be light shining directly in my eyes. Honestly, the pattern looks as if it is mimicking something. Like a mural of a landscape of sorts- a mural of

'Of space,' says the voice, amused with my mind ramblings.

.Okay so, some crazy interior decorator just decided to paint murals of Space all around a room and then add glass on top of it to make it look as if there is a window looking out to a landscape of space. No biggie. Except for the fact that the only living being that would ever do anything like that is yours truly.

'Oh, but why settle for fake murals when you can have the real deal?' Maga questions teasingly.

'So that's real space outside? The walls aren't just pictures?' I ask wary of the answer.

"More like reflections," she answers fondly as if talking about a prized child instead of a property of the walls. "At any one direction they reflect the part of space that is actually there. Their actual purpose is to confuse anyone who does not belong on the ship, if the turns aren't memorized it is practically impossible to not get lost. In my personal opinion and it seems yours as well, they are a wonderful source of décor-"

Yup, that's it I'm done. Real Space outside my butt. Unless of course this is a dream. Oh it makes so much sense! It explains why I'm not asleep in my bed right now. Why I'm on what is apparently a spaceship.

Maga interrupts me mid- thought, 'Now, the matter of the ship is a complicated one. I suppose this vessel could be considered a ship, but its size makes it so that to correctly describe it, I would go with more of a man- made, mobile planet,' she pauses as if to collect her thoughts. 'But, Deary, at the moment there are people other than just myself who want to talk to you."

At that I look up to find a pair of black bottomless holes watching me cautiously as if I am a bomb ticking, waiting to blow myself and everyone near me up. Xiscerus probably isn't half wrong. A permanent scowl seems to decorate his distaste- filled expression, as if someone shoved a piece of yesterday's trash beneath his mighty beak of a nose. Shoulder length curtains of black hair surround a pasty, pale angular face. From the way he tilts his head, downwards and slightly to the left, I can tell that he often hides behind his straight inky locks. My eyes dart back up to his unfriendly eyes. Their expression dares me to speak out and say what I'm thinking. Oho buddy, do you ever wish that you hadn't done that. I mean I've got freaking voices, who have names for themselves, in my head.

"Abducted, correct."

"What!" Nikodemus screeches in surprise. His voice giving out due to the force of his exclamation.

His appearance matches his voice, kind with an intelligent sheen around the edges. His face while still masculine, has more rounded edges compared to Xiscerus' angular face. While wrinkles surround his eyes and mouth, they don't make him look aged, as much as they do give him the look of a wise middle aged gentleman. His upper lip is covered by a dark honey colored mustache that all but matches the hair on his head, except for the few gray hairs that peek out from among the forest of brunette. My favorite feature of his, is definitely his brewed tea hued eyes. The pinkish brown warmth they give off, radiating comfort like the drink they resemble. An expression of calm discomfort is worn on his olive complexioned face. I almost feel bad for continuing to spar with these men, but alas a challenge was initiated and I refuse to back down.

I prod back in response to his exclamation with a repeat of my statement, "You abducted me, or at the very least have knowledge about my abduction. Correct."

"Yes, unfortunately that is true-" Nikodemus answers.

I let out another snort and carry on with my fun.
"What type of aliens are you?"

Xiscerus raises an amused eyebrow at my questioning, and snorts in response. Relief fills his expression, as if he had come across a question that made his ears bleed only to find that the answer is right in front of him, concealed within the question. Only for a moment to pass and his expression to morph into one of annoyance as if he were reminded what the content of my question was, and found it of disgusting content.

Seeing Xiscerus' reaction, Nikdemus hurriedly amends the conversation to a different topic. "Why don't we start somewhere safer? Hello my name is Nikodemus Lazos and-"

"I am Xiscerus."

"I know." I tell them matter- of- factly, but pause before I explain how. Because, well, I don't quite know the etiquette for telling aliens within one's dream that I have a voice inside my head that tells me all about them and everything else that I happen to have a question about.

'Well my dear, it never hurts to tell others your name when they introduce themselves,' Maga prompts me.

"Hello Xiscerus, Nikodemus. My name is-"

"Megaera. Yes, we know." Xiscerus responds in a bored, impatient tone,
his features reflecting his voice.

'Pfft. I'm never taking your advice again,' I grouch to Maga.

'I'm sure Nikodemus appreciated your efforts,' is all she responds.

A glance at Nikodemus shows a patient smile on the kind man's face. A glance back at Xiscerus reveals the same stony expression glaring at me as always. When suddenly a devious smirk crosses his face, only there for a second before it vanishes from sight to be replaced by his normal expressionless façade.

"Miss Pat- Waters. The question that I find more pertinent, is how you have been able to follow this discussion."
His familiarity with the whole of my name does not pass my notice. Nor does the stutter of what, I can assume, was the beginning of another name. I just store away the questions for use in a later inquiry.

"Well, I think the answer is quite simple Mr.-"

"There is no answer of simplicity here, for all throughout the duration of this conversation and the one you had been eavesdropping on, we have been speaking a language from Mr. Lazos' home planet. And yet here you are speaking it with relative fluency- having never before heard the language or any variation of it."

The silence is tangible. I am completely positive that if I tried to reach out and touch it, it would reach back. This news is extremely startling, for to my greatest detriment, languages had never been my forte. Almost any other subject I could learn from in a book or in the classroom. Languages are different though, firstly you must have a natural propensity towards them- which I had always assumed hadn't been the case with myself. Secondly, one must have the time to devote themselves to such endeavors, and since finding the efforts I had made wastes of time I then resigned myself to the fact that I would never accomplish the art of bilingualism let alone multilingualism.

'Ah, but my dear I have an explanation for-'

Yes, the silence is tangible. Alas though I could not heed any warning and broke Silences' seal- I burst into laughter, therefore ignoring Maga and any crazy explanation she could have for this latest surprise. Not just any laughter either. I broke into peeling cackles that any true Villainess would be proud to call her own.

Both...men...glance at each other, a silent signal passing from black windows into warm cups of tea. And then the mumblings initiate-

The buzzing of words from their lips begin as an annoying hum, which smoothly morphs into an incomprehensible chatter, then into a splattering of comprehensible words. And finally it all makes sense.

"-Look at her brain patterns Anguiem. She has never been good with languages- what changed?"

'Anguiem?' I question Maga.

'It's a good thing I'm pretty attached to you kid that was quite rude of you to ignore me,' she clucks before answering. 'Snake like creature, two heads, real nasty. It's found on the MuharaMutanese planet. Nikodemus used it as an insulting kind of nickname.'

"Careful, Lazos. She can understand us, and she has an excellent memory."

Unlike Nikodemus, Xiscerus was not watching the screen above my head with great interest. He was watching my facial expressions as if it were in fact my eyes that contained a multitude of different patterns in various colors. One of those patterns being the one that represented my brain activity. The buzzing was born again and the same pattern repeats, except this time it is a wholly different language and the process ends much faster-

"- her brain is shifting to gain understanding of the knowledge she lacks to fully comprehend the situation."

"How?"

"Analyzing patterns, finding connections, and then building off of them. Her brain then stores the information away for later use."

"Why now- why not all the years she was on Earth-"

"-She is listening, Nikodemus."

'Would you like that explanation now?'Maga asks me gently. If I could nod to her, I would. She must take my silence as an affirmative for, 'You are a Radnik, my dear- a shifter. Xiscerus is right in saying that your brain is constantly shifting- well almost. I think a better way of explaining would be to say that your brain, your whole body is constantly adapting. Your brain analyzes its environment and then adapts itself, you, to fit the need.' She pauses letting all that she has said sink in. 'You were sent to Earth as a babe to hide you from the social strife that plagues this world. But now that you have reach mental as well as physical maturity, side effects such as your ability to almost immediately translate languages will start popping up. Therefor you could not stay within the safety of Earth. The human's fear for your abilities would outweigh the dangers of this world by ten- fold.' She trails off in her explanation.

Yes, but why? Why do these alien men know so much about me? Who decided to send me to Earth in the first place? Why was I abandoned? Do I have a family? If so, then where they? Why do I hear a know- it- all voice inside my head? Why now? Why ever?

WHY

WHY

"WHY?"

Nikodemus was obviously taken aback by my very sudden and not so subtle outburst. Xiscerus on the other hand just smirked as if this had been what he was waiting for since I had awakened into this dream. He then proceeds to turn to speak to Nikodemus all while holding direct eye contact with me. Humming of radio static and then-

"- ways that one can block a Radnik's
ability-"

Buzzing this time-

"-ordered me to retrieve her from Earth before the humans noticed her...
difference."

Whistling

"-time for her to grow up."

All things that Maga already informed me. That doesn't matter though, nothing in this mad reality matters because-

"- this is all a dream"

Xiscerus gives an uncharacteristically worried look at my mumblings.

"Miss Waters... Megaera- you are not dreaming."

"Well, of course I am Xiscerus," I chortled out at his silly comment. I mean really how much better does it get than a figure of your imagination, a character from a dream telling you that, 'you are not dreaming'. My chortle morphs into out- right guffaws at the hilarity of the situation, the madness, the pure genius insanity. But when I tried to open my eyes and end the delusion-

-I find that they are already open.