As a multiethnic kid, Keon Wesley has always had to straddle two worlds. He just never expected that metaphor to become a literal reality.
Ever since his dad left five weeks ago, he's struggled to adjust to life in a single parent household. When a...
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Dawn-Son. Harlot-Son. The Scarred Warrior. Wellworn. What did those names mean? Was Dawn the name of a harlot? Was Wellworn an illegitimate child? 'Scarred Warrior' was pretty obvious, but Keon didn't have time to dwell on the rest. His spine was about to snap. He was leaning back, marvelling at the tight knit branches holding up the crown of the giant dragonblood tree. Over the edges, waterfalls tumbled towards the surface, rushing into rivers that wound their way between the roots. He circled round slowly trying to take it all in, the branches spinning above him like a carousel. He chuckled and shook his head, then looked over at an equally enamoured Asya.
"You ever seen anything like this?" he called.
"I never even made it past the walls!" she gushed.
"Keon Wesley...Asya Koyun!"
Wellworn stood in the midst of one of the rivers, the Millionth and Fifth standing in a line beside him. Keon and Asya glanced at each other in bewildered wonder.
"I swear we never told you our full names," said Keon.
"You didn't," Wellworn replied, "But I know them all the same."
He gestured to the running waters.
"This," he said, "is your last chance to turn back."
Keon shrugged a scoff.
"You said it yourself. Where else can we go?"
Wellworn gave a slight bow, "Well said."
"So then, you already know what I'm gonna do," said Keon, glancing at Asya. "I have to help my dad."
Asya met his look, understanding swirling in her ashen eyes. Resolute, she squared her shoulders and nodded at Wellworn.
"And I have to help my family. It's why I'm here."
"Very well," said Wellworn.
With an outstretched arm, he gestured for them to step into the river with him and the others. They took a spot between him and Avana.
Keon glanced around as though trying to track a bee buzzing around his head.
"So, uh...what are we...?"
"We're going up," said Wellworn with a grin.
Keon gawped at the outer fringes of the treetop.
"How...?" he began.
"Avana?" nodded Wellworn.
She scrawled something on a sliver of parchment then held it up to the falling waters. Jonas and Zahara did the same, the others grabbing their free hands.
"I suggest you hold on," said Wellworn, clasping Asya's hand.
She grabbed Keon's and nodded. He reluctantly gripped Avana's.
Suddenly, all the air was sucked into his belly as he was wrenched upwards. The ground was retreating agonisingly fast. It felt as though his stomach would hit the soles of his feet. His cheeks flapped like wings in the wind. Spray from the waterfalls splashed across his face; and yet, the water seemed to flow around them like a gap in a zipper. He wanted to look up but feared the velocity would snap his head clean off his body. Instead, he clamped his eyes shut. All of a sudden, it felt like an elevator slowing to a stop. He opened his eyes as they peeled over the edge of the dragonblood tree, landing in the midst of a flowing river.
