A Peculiar String of Bizarre Dreams

Chapter 27: A Burst of Tangerine

"Where am I?" I start with my well-loved realm-investigating question.

So far, the question has gotten me a satisfying answer each time I've used it. And from what I can tell, it hasn't offended the angel standing across me.

Her face is smooth, it gives away nothing. For all I know, she's probably thinking about using her sworded wings on me.

"You're in the five-seventh elevation of the sky," she points out casually.

"Are you an angel?" I ask, even though I've grown comfortable with the idea of her being an angel.

"I'm Zira, the Heiress to Seraphina Eliza the First in command."

I don't understand her title, so I choose to make nothing of it. But I firmly conclude that she is indeed an angel, and her name is just as pretty and graceful as her.

"I'm Jemma. I came to your realm looking for a gem that can help my friend, Phina."

"Phina," she repeats after me.

"Do you know her?" I pause for a moment, "Do angels keep watch on humans?"

"Some."

An angel that answers in vague mono-syllables. Excellent.

"My uncle is a Bijou Maven," she adds after some consideration.

An angel that knows about the Bijoux Maven. Okay, that is excellent.

"In that case, I'd really like to see your uncle."

As if in response, she starts walking towards the mountains and I, without a moment of hesitation, begin to follow her quietly.

"Sorry about the purgatory back there," she calls out from a few paces ahead of me.

I smile to myself. Strange beings.

"It was my fault. I jumped into your realm not knowing anything about it, except that I wanted to meet seraphs."

"Why us?"

"Phina, my friend has an affinity towards your kind."

"Phina," she repeats after me again, and nods as if to say 'yes, of course'. Nothing unsettling about that.

We walk with caution. While she effortlessly avoids all the water puddles — dangerous or otherwise — I follow her lead with a vigilance bordering on lunacy. The last time, all it took was a slight contact with a wormhole and it ate me quicker than a Venus flytrap.

"There was a tree on fire," I tell her, remembering a glimpse from when I first entered her realm.

"Fieries — yes, they're made of fire."

"Fieries," I repeat after her this time.

And just like that, a fiery comes into our view. It burns angrily sheathed in fire. Zira reaches up one of the branches and pulls out a string of glowing globes, as small as strawberries. She plucks one out and pops it into her mouth.

She then, hands me one. I glance up at her and her mouth does not look like it's on fire. I take the fiery ball from her; I'm surprised to find that it is cool, as cool as the fresh spring water I had in Lykineria. That realm feels like such a long time ago. I pop the glowing globe into my mouth.

A burst of tangerine, it tastes like oranges.

"Fireberries," Zira explains. A sly red-lipped smile appears at the corners of her mouth.

We walk further on towards the white mountains. After a while of circumventing watery wormholes, I notice that the mountains are not too far away; I can now make out the jagged edges of white rocks.

"My uncle lives here," Zira says.

I look around and behold a barren land. There are mountains in front of us, and the land around is covered with white sand, nothing else but mountains for miles. Perhaps her uncle lives in a mountain cave.

I then, get distracted by blue smoke and trace its origins to a thick gush of cerulean water, bursting forth from serrated mountain rocks. The water appears to be on fire, made of blue flames.

"Fiery springs," I hear Zira say. Fiery from fierce? Zira heads over to a spring and scoops a few sips with her ashen palms.

"The waters of these springs erase doubt. But if the doubt is meaningful, the water makes it stronger."

I study her face carefully, as she describes the spring water in her land. Does she still think I'm a threat?

"And what's the verdict?" I dare to ask.

"The waters indicate you are harmless," the corners of her mouth arc up again, and I chuckle back at her.

"Would you like to try some?"

I shake my head, "I'm here to help my friend. I'm sure I want to be here," then as an afterthought I add, "The seraphs around here must be doubtful quite often."

Zira nods and gives me a side glance, "We have to make decisions. Doubt is important. It fights away regret."

"But don't you learn from decisions that you regret? They help you grow and teach you to make better decisions next time."

"There is no next time in this realm. We might make regretful decisions, but someone else suffers its consequences. Someone who might not necessarily know that we made that decision for them. Faith is rarely found in your kind but when found, your kind becomes extraordinary, a species above us," Zira hisses at me severely, venturing out of her mono-syllabic persona.

I am still pondering over her words, when I realize we're standing at the foot of another mountain and a sparkling white mansion with three towers has risen before me. Several fieries aka burning trees are scattered across the palace grounds, and the white palace shimmers against the blazing oranges and reds. The sight is painfully beautiful.

A ghostly white man with hair exactly like Zira's — shiny black and tied back — appears in front of us. Did he appear out of thin air or was I too entranced by the whiteness to see him walk up to us?

"Uncle, this is Jemma," Zira greets him.

The man peers straight into my eyes and I freeze in my spot. An arctic white fire steadily burns in his blue eyes.

"Jemmalyn Stone, yes."

His voice is cool and oddly striking, like the place around him.