ANDY'S EYES fluttered open when beams of warm afternoon sun passed through the wooden sash window. Usually, waking up was a simple task for Andy; he was a morning person after all.
His body still felt sore even after a week had passed after the fall of the witch. But if everything else around him was at its peak of heightened celebration, a peaceful and undisturbed sleep was near impossible. Even if they were meters away from the village square—just like how the Rainwaters' residence stood almost at the edge of the forest, away from the center—the joy of the people was full to the brim. His ears could vividly register, as well as imagine, the distinct merry noises of children laughing as they play with the colorful decorations, men sharing a drink and babbling with their loud voices, and the mouth-watering and tempting sound of sizzles from pots and pans as mothers and sisters prepared food for the feast.
Andy agreed with himself that the villagers at least deserved this fun time after years of living in fear brought by the evil witch to the lives of their family.
Andy sat up straight, flinching at his sore neck, and wiped the drool which formed a flake on his cheek. He didn't notice he had fallen asleep on the chair beside the bed when he volunteered to look after Elsie while her parents were out in a meeting with the council, probably to discuss security and order measures for the occasion.
A part of him wanted to go and observe. He was curious how people with magic manage their parties. For sure, it would be magical. Maybe the sky would be filled with lots of sparkling things. Or maybe, there would be other creatures invited from the nearby villages. Vampires? Werewolves? Fairies? Elves?
Wait, are there even vampires, werewolves, fairies, and elves in Emerraine? Elsie never mentioned, he thought to himself.
His mind whirled. Suddenly, he saw a ship bobbing in the waters surrounding a large mass of land that was Emerraine. The sailors—pirates—were singing, and the captain was bowing from the waist, perfect and gallant, as the villagers of Hearthstone welcomed them to their celebration. But wait, were pirates supposed to be as friendly as he imagined? Andy shook his head furiously, setting aside the strange day dreamings he had. Instead, he looked at Elsie, peacefully asleep in her frog pajama set, surrounded by her usual sleep companions—her tiger, elephant, frog, and cat plushies.
Andy poked her cheek with his finger and pouted. "You better wake up soon, Elsie. There are lots and lots of things you missed out." He stared long and waited, hoping she would open her eyes and scare him. Yes, it was very likely for Elsie to do that. She loved to joke and play around with him so that was not impossible. Except it wasn't. She was technically in a comatose state, as he was told. Being trapped in that spherical cage had cost her more than a night's peaceful sleep. Her body had been exposed to dark magic and her soul was pushed to the deepest part of her consciousness.
There was nothing he could do at the moment but observe. Chip was out cold at the foot of the bed, snoring and grumbling in his sleep. Spy-O's power was still out so he was nothing at the moment but an empty unmoving box. He swept his eyes around Elsie's room and here he thought she owned a Barbie collection (if Barbie existed in Emerraine) and a wardrobe full of pretty pink dresses like the girls in his class. No spot in the room didn't contain furniture and decorations of artistic woodwork—from the armrests, sofa, shelf, table to the mini figurines, tiny cups, frames, and toy swords displayed on the walls.
Then his wandering eyes fell on a square frame of a family sitting atop the built-in storage of the bed's headboard. They were in front of the beach's sparkling aquamarine waters and golden sands. Halfway to where the shore met the jungle was a perfectly picturesque shipwreck.
The Elsie in the frame was much younger in years, smaller and chubbier than now. She was sitting on the shoulder of a young man with the same amber glowing eyes and slick shoulder-length hair. His lips were twisted in a wide toothy grin. Even in the photo, Andy could somewhat feel the playful and goofy character he shared with Elsie. Besides the two young Rainwaters were the elder Rainwaters themselves. The wife clung by her husband's arm, emanating a soft glow of youth that no one would mistake her as a middle-aged woman. Her eyes were black, however, that none of the siblings inherited. But if they were to share the same beautiful eyes with a parent, it was of Mister Rainwater's. Although Andy didn't last half a second staring at his photo. The man had a permanent scowl embedded on his face which had set Andy on the edge.
His mind traveled back to a week's time in the exact place of the evil witch's last sighting and demise. Andy stood frozen and disbelieving—even Chip and Hex were silent and unable to form words at how they witnessed the witch's end—when four men in blue and white silky hooded robes armed with wands barged in. To say they were shocked was an understatement. It seemed everyone's world stopped as they tried to process what was in front of them: two children (one holding a bloodied glass and the other unconscious, an oddly shaped metal box, a dog, a giant cat, the muddy remains of the witch and a broken staff. The only ones they recognized from the lot were the chief's daughter and her Familiar.
The stillness was only broken by a man who had dropped his wand and collapsed defeated beside the unconscious young girl. Andy looked away at the heartbreaking sight of the man as his identical amber eyes glazed with water. His arms quivered and his legs staggered a bit as he made way for the door with Elsie in his hands.
More men came and they searched the entire house at the chief's order. He wanted to follow, but he suspected that if he ever did a slight movement, he would crumble. And he was glad he stayed at least for a bit more time to learn that the village guards had found an old journal that explained the entire plan. And he heard every bit and piece of it from the nearby guards themselves.
The man who found the journal called some of his comrades and huddled together in a tight group. "So that's what happened to the remaining Keepers."
"What?" a man with square glasses asked, leaning closely to have a clear view of the page.
"They left one family member to live so that one of them can still execute the plan. The rest of them offered and sacrificed their souls for the ritual," the first man said with a grim expression.
Their body tensed as gasps and murmurs erupted among the group of five.
"And Theodore Keeper?" a third man, probably the oldest among them, with white hair and stubbles, asked. "The one whose soul's been infused with the wooden staff?"
The first man flicked through the pages in a hurry, hands shaking. "Apparently, he's a lost soul. Here, look." He handed the journal to one of the men and they all squeezed into one another to have a closer look. "He died three years prior to the execution of the plan. And when his soul wandered near Fairton Hill, he reunited with his niece. They had been working together since then. Greta's already past her years actually. So she resorted to evil sorcery and planted her heart into another host." And they all looked at the mannequin, now only a broken empty vessel.
"What about the bodies they took?" the fourth man asked.
"Yes, about that. Other guards already searched the grounds," the fifth man said. He held his hand out so everyone could have a clear look at the tiny folded cloth on his palm. He unfolded it and the content made every fiber in their body shake. "Here's an undissolved bone we found in the cauldron. I can assume she cooks her victims whole."
Andy gagged at the idea of all those kids boiled, stewed, then cooked to death. He could hear their voices, their screams, and cries for help in his head. And that would forever haunt him in every sleep and waking hour of his life.
Andy could no longer reign the bindings that kept his mouth shut. He joined the group of men, still immersed in conversation, and tugged the robe of the first man, the one who found the journal, to get his attention. The five stopped talking and looked down at him with prying stares.
"Why do they want children, in particular, sir?"
"Hmm?" The man blinked at him as if he never knew he was there or even saw him when they entered, but still, with a dazed look, he answered, "The answer to that is simple. Children's souls are young full of energy to fuel—"
"That's enough. You have meddled enough, boy," rasped the man with white stubbles and hair. He faced the one with the glasses who squared his shoulder upon being regarded by his superior. "Send this child down the hill, Cedric. His aunt is there waiting and she's worried sick."
True to that, Carol was waiting at the base of the hill, looking worried. She was pacing back and forth outside a tent where various items from the Keepers' mansion were confiscated and examined. Andy was engulfed in a bone-crushing hug and he had to console his aunt when she started to cry. Cedric left instantly to give them some privacy. But as soon as they were alone, Andy realized she was faking it. The woman was no longer crying. She wiped away her forced tears and beamed at him excitedly.
"Okay, so tell me what happened."
So Andy recounted everything from the start because Carol didn't want to let him go. Andy didn't want to go into details but it seemed she could sense if he was keeping something from her.
He spent the rest of the day tired, but the council showed no mercy in interrogating him. If it wasn't for Carol's protests, they wouldn't let him off the hook. But after that day, no one from the village had treated him like a hero, which was fine by him. Whenever he would talk here and there about the council's glory nonstop, he realized it was not the kind of attention he wanted.
As days passed by, Andy got the chance to know Hearthstone more. A lot of kids were even interested in him as an Outlander, and how he managed to convince the council to let him stay for days. Then they would invite him to play and hitch a ride on one of the brooms. This was his chance to finally improve his social life, but their company was not what he needed at the moment. He wanted Elsie to show him around herself, to introduce new things to him, and maybe they could go on a ride on her broom once again. Only this time, no flaming rock or angry ravens were chasing them.
It was because of Elsie that he was no longer Andy, the square peg in a round hole.
"Come on, Elsie," Andy begged. "I-I'm leaving for an hour. Don't you want to see me off?"
Chip made a sound of doubt at the back of his throat. He had woken up, hearing Andy's voice. Like Andy, the dog was reluctant to leave.
Can't we wait a little longer, Andy?
"I don't want to leave this early too, but we can't stay, Chip. Mom and dad know what happened. He's got a connection from the council and that person had already informed them before Aunt Carol could do something. If we don't make our leave now, they'll drag us back themselves."
There was a knock on the door and the soft rattling of the knob. Carol peeked through the small crack.
"Andy," she whispered. "It's time."
Andy nodded without a fight and jumped off the spindle-legged chair. "Can't we wait for Elsie to wake up? What if she gets upset when she wakes and Chip and I aren't here? She needs us."
"She has her parents to take care of her," she said as gently as possible. She had broken more than one of Andrew's rules and that was to never let Andy be tied up in everything related to their heritage. She could no longer pull something off to grant her nephew's wishes. The parents had more right to decide for the child.
"But—"
"You can still visit next summer. We'll just have to wait for your parents to cool their heads and then—" Carol stopped. She bit her lip and silently cursed herself. She shouldn't have said it. Andy would hope, but she was no longer sure if the child could come back next time. Andrew and his wife might keep an eye on her nephew more than ever now. The worst thing would be to forbid the child to get close to her.
"But next summer felt like a hundred years, Aunt Carol," he mumbled, dropping his small head. He noticed small drops of water fell to his fiddling fingers. Realizing those were his tears, he rubbed them off his eyes and forced a smile. "It's alright! You're right. I can just come over to your house next summer. And then we can visit Elsie together."
Then his face brightened a bit as an idea crossed his mind. If Andy couldn't go to Elsie once he was home, then maybe...
"Aunt Carol, do witches still use letters for their messages?"
Carol cocked a brow.
"I-I want to leave a letter to Elsie before I go."
Carol's face softened and nodded with understanding. "Sure, I'll get you a pencil and paper downstairs."
All hope wasn't lost. Andy wouldn't let their friendship end like this.