situation was that neither the driver of the other car nor my sister had any injuries. I felt horrible that Ally had been in the car with me when it had happened. Needless to say, I couldn’t drive anymore, and I didn’t want to after the wreck.
I didn’t tell anyone about what I knew would be called a hallucination. I didn’t tell anyone that while I’d been in Krymzyn, despite the initial fear, I’d felt like the void in my mind had finally been filled. For the first time since I was twelve, the sense of waiting for something had left me. It was a combination of feelings only I could understand—the amazement, the fascination, and the belief that there was a reason I’d gone there beyond just a random occurrence. And more than anything else, I knew Krymzyn was real.
Just like when I was twelve, I was immediately put on anti-seizure medication. Desperately wanting to return to Krymzyn before the tumor was taken out of me, I debated not taking the pills. I had to see Sash again, learn more about her, about Krymzyn, and try to understand the connection I felt to her and to that world.
Even with the medication, I had several mild seizures over the next week, but they only brought flashes of light and distant sounds. Two days before my surgery, I quit taking the anti-seizure meds. I needed to go back before it was too late. There was no argument in my mind.
The day of my surgery quickly came. I dressed in a hospital gown and lay facedown on a surgical table before a nurse secured my head into padded braces. Tubes were needled into my arms, and electronic sensors were adhered to my temples. As I was wheeled into the operating room, bright lights from overhead cast reflections on the spotless shiny floor. My head started throbbing despite the drugs flowing into me, and I felt pressure building in the back of my neck.
“I know you’ve been through this before,” Dr. Baskin said after the anesthesiologist turned a few knobs, “but I want you to count backwards from ten for us.”
Dull circles of light began to pulse on the floor. They seemed to rise off the surface until they filled my vision.
“Ten, nine,” I said, desperately trying to fight the effects of the anesthesia. Before I reached eight, every muscle in my body convulsed.
* * *
I immediately glance up to the sky. Shafts of bright light dissect the edges of the motionless clouds. I let out a sigh of relief that I didn’t arrive during Darkness. No, the relief is because I’m standing on the Empty Hill in Krymzyn.
Red spreads out before my eyes, and nothing has changed except the position of the branches reaching outward from the dormant tree in the meadow. Everything is still, absent of any movement.
When I look down, I see that I’m barefoot and dressed in “the manner of Krymzyn.” My muscles are relaxed, and my mind is alert. I don’t feel any effects from the drugs invading my consciousness back in my world.
Before I have a chance to figure out what to do, the same tall man I spoke to when I was twelve races over a hill in the distance. Orange and black hair trails behind his head and a metal flask swings by his side. The long steel spear in his hand reminds me of how terrified I felt during my first encounter with him.
Long ago, Sash told me that no one in Krymzyn would harm me, and I believed her. More specifically, “No one in the grace of Krymzyn,” which I’m guessing didn’t include that Murkovin thing and definitely not the tree. So as I wait for him, I don’t feel the need to run or defend myself.
The man sprints across a meadow and up the hill, stopping a few feet in front of me. He’s not even breathing hard after running faster than anyone I’ve ever seen, except maybe Sash when we were younger. There’s not a drop of sweat on his face.
“I welcome you on your return to Krymzyn, Teller Chase,” he says, nodding his head to me.
Despite how much I’ve grown, he’s
I didn’t tell anyone about what I knew would be called a hallucination. I didn’t tell anyone that while I’d been in Krymzyn, despite the initial fear, I’d felt like the void in my mind had finally been filled. For the first time since I was twelve, the sense of waiting for something had left me. It was a combination of feelings only I could understand—the amazement, the fascination, and the belief that there was a reason I’d gone there beyond just a random occurrence. And more than anything else, I knew Krymzyn was real.
Just like when I was twelve, I was immediately put on anti-seizure medication. Desperately wanting to return to Krymzyn before the tumor was taken out of me, I debated not taking the pills. I had to see Sash again, learn more about her, about Krymzyn, and try to understand the connection I felt to her and to that world.
Even with the medication, I had several mild seizures over the next week, but they only brought flashes of light and distant sounds. Two days before my surgery, I quit taking the anti-seizure meds. I needed to go back before it was too late. There was no argument in my mind.
The day of my surgery quickly came. I dressed in a hospital gown and lay facedown on a surgical table before a nurse secured my head into padded braces. Tubes were needled into my arms, and electronic sensors were adhered to my temples. As I was wheeled into the operating room, bright lights from overhead cast reflections on the spotless shiny floor. My head started throbbing despite the drugs flowing into me, and I felt pressure building in the back of my neck.
“I know you’ve been through this before,” Dr. Baskin said after the anesthesiologist turned a few knobs, “but I want you to count backwards from ten for us.”
Dull circles of light began to pulse on the floor. They seemed to rise off the surface until they filled my vision.
“Ten, nine,” I said, desperately trying to fight the effects of the anesthesia. Before I reached eight, every muscle in my body convulsed.
* * *
I immediately glance up to the sky. Shafts of bright light dissect the edges of the motionless clouds. I let out a sigh of relief that I didn’t arrive during Darkness. No, the relief is because I’m standing on the Empty Hill in Krymzyn.
Red spreads out before my eyes, and nothing has changed except the position of the branches reaching outward from the dormant tree in the meadow. Everything is still, absent of any movement.
When I look down, I see that I’m barefoot and dressed in “the manner of Krymzyn.” My muscles are relaxed, and my mind is alert. I don’t feel any effects from the drugs invading my consciousness back in my world.
Before I have a chance to figure out what to do, the same tall man I spoke to when I was twelve races over a hill in the distance. Orange and black hair trails behind his head and a metal flask swings by his side. The long steel spear in his hand reminds me of how terrified I felt during my first encounter with him.
Long ago, Sash told me that no one in Krymzyn would harm me, and I believed her. More specifically, “No one in the grace of Krymzyn,” which I’m guessing didn’t include that Murkovin thing and definitely not the tree. So as I wait for him, I don’t feel the need to run or defend myself.
The man sprints across a meadow and up the hill, stopping a few feet in front of me. He’s not even breathing hard after running faster than anyone I’ve ever seen, except maybe Sash when we were younger. There’s not a drop of sweat on his face.
“I welcome you on your return to Krymzyn, Teller Chase,” he says, nodding his head to me.
Despite how much I’ve grown, he’s
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