It doesn’t matter.
Bastien doesn’t matter to me anymore, and I ignore the ache in my chest produced by that acknowledgment.
Closing his eyes, Bastien begins chanting, his words too low to hear. The wind kicks up and King rears slightly, surely a little spooked, but Kieran puts a hand to his neck and murmurs to calm his nerves. Then I feel the tugging on my body. Glancing over my shoulder at my house, tears sting and my nose prickles with sadness. Half an hour ago, this was my everything. I didn’t know there was anything else out there for me.
Had I come here willingly and known that the Bastien I’d loved with all my heart would be there for me when I returned, I wouldn’t hesitate to say goodbye to this place.
But as it stands, the only goodness in my life is this ranch. It’s duty that calls me back to Vyronas, but I’ll be leaving my heart here and hope to be reunited with it soon.
As my house and the majestic Tetons behind it fade, other things start to come into focus. A warm breeze, the smell of pressian flowers, and a small creek babbling cheerfully.
Although I was born and raised in Vyronas, having lived there for twenty years before being sent to the First Dimension, I had forgotten how beautiful it is. For the last seven years, I’ve had the majesty of the Tetons to inspire me. Valleys of prairie grass and sagebrush, gray, craggy, snow-capped mountains, and skies so blue you could almost believe that no other color had the right to exist… it was what I thought the most beautiful place in the world.
But it just can’t compare to the magic that infuses Vyronas, making everything sparkle with brilliance. Before me stretches rolling hills of verdant grass that would feel like velvet to walk upon with bare feet. The stream is so clear, I can see the brightly colored pebbles that look like spilled jewels and fish of vibrant oranges, yellows, and blues darting about.
Pressian trees dot the landscape, the shimmering white bark lending them the name “ghost trees,” but I love them for their fragrance. Oh, we have the same trees you’d see in the First Dimension—sprawling oaks, graceful willows, and towering pines—but the pressians are original to Vyronas, and it’s the biggest sign that I am home.
I inhale deeply, and despite my plans to return to Wyoming, I immediately feel secure and settled here.
Time moves differently among the various dimensions as some have their own suns and moons. It can alter dates and time when traveling. Although it was evening when we left Wyoming, it’s just after midday here, the sun directly overhead. The multicolored sky is a blend of light blues, peaches, and creams, its sun nothing like that of the First Dimension, which can be blistering and too bright to look at. Vyronas’s sun is a pale pink, and the rays lend a pearly shimmer to the air and inspire the clouds to glow. I stare directly at it without the need to squint or shield my face.
I can’t wait for evening as the night moon is of the same blush. It isn’t governed by tides or the rotation of the planet. It’s always full and bright but gently illuminating.
I take another deep breath and smile. Vyronas has its own scent that’s fresh, light, and sweet.
“Welcome home, Thalia,” Kieran says as he grins at me over King’s neck.
Not willing to commit that I’m definitely feeling all kinds of nostalgia, I release King’s reins and move over to the small stream that cuts through the grass, shaded by ancient oaks.
Squatting, I reach into the cool water to pick up an azure-colored pebble. I study it briefly and then open my senses.
Not to the water’s music or the fragrance of flowers, but to the magic I felt prickling at me the minute I stepped foot in this dimension. Oh gods, I’ve missed this feeling. Didn’t realize how dull I’d felt in body and spirit while in Wyoming until this very moment as it zings within me, looking for release.
With the stone in my palm, I lower my hand into the water and with only my vision for the beauty I seek to create, the pebble grows, morphs, and slides free of my hand as a newly formed fish of sparkling blue.
“We don’t have time to dawdle,” Bastien grouses, and I have half a mind to ignore him.
Instead, I stand and face him, lifting my chin. “I am your ruling sovereign. You came asking for my leadership. I demand you speak to me with the respect my position affords me.”
If I expected that to put him in his place, it has no such effect. The corner of his lip curls as if he’s the one who should be offended. “Start acting like half the sovereign your mother and father were, and I might consider it.”