Chapter Text
Prologue
Thursday, August 9th, 2007.
Sarah Livsey met her best friend when she was thirteen years old, on a perfectly normal summer afternoon in the woods behind her parent's house.
Well, it was her house, too. And Reggie's. But it didn't feel like it, some days. She liked the forest better. Especially on days like today, when the leaves overhead dyed the sunlight green and the breeze kept the shade nice and cool.
The trees may not have air conditioning, but they also didn't have her mother's shrill, demanding voice.
Sit up straight, Sarah. Posture is important.
Don't make so much noise, Sarah. It's impolite.
Leave your brother alone, Sarah. He has homework to do.
At least the trees didn't talk. Sarah idly wondered what they would say if they could. J.R.R.T. said they talked very, very slowly, which made sense. Trees didn't do anything quickly.
A new sound drifted through the rustling wood. A discordant note, that didn't belong.
Sarah was reasonably sure that trees didn't cry, either.
"Hello?" Sarah called. The disembodied voice didn't sound like a grown up.
The crying cut off abruptly.
That wasn't good. How would she find them, if she couldn't hear them?
Sarah made her way deeper into the woods. She knew that she'd hit another road if she went too much further. The woods didn't go on forever. Just a few square blocks at the edge of her parent's neighborhood.
She hopped up onto the familiar path of rocks that lined the shallow creek. Her mother always got mad if she went in the water.
Sarah looked down at her reflection.
Was the water always purple?
No. No, it definitely wasn't. Water wasn't usually purple. Right?
The strange color dyed her blonde hair pink, in the reflection. It was kind of fun.
Sarah stood up on the rocks, and resumed her search for the crying girl. She thought they sounded like a girl, anyway. Maybe they were lost?
It took her a moment to realize that the light streaming through the canopy overhead wasn't green, anymore.
Strange prisms of rainbow light filtered through irregular leaves made of glass.
This was getting weirder by the minute. Sarah loved it.
Normal was so… boring. Her parent's perfectly precise decorations. The house with white walls and pictures that didn't mean anything. It was all shallow, like puddles, that only reflected what they wanted to see.
Sarah liked the purple stream and the rainbow leaves better.
"Hello?" She called again. "Are you still here?"
She heard a cough from somewhere upstream. High, but wet. Score. She had a heading.
Sarah picked her way over the rocks. Long, crimson thorns grew out of the stones like her mother's rose bushes, so she was careful not to touch. Or trip. She didn't want to explain to her mother how she'd gotten impaled on a walk in the woods. She'd never be allowed out of the house again.
Another shuddering breath filled the air, and the glass trees seemed to breathe with it. She must be close.
Sarah rounded the next bend in the stream. The trees pressed in on all sides, but they weren't oppressive.
There, sitting against the wide trunk of a gnarled oak tree, a skinny girl with curly black hair and thick glasses pressed her face into her knees to muffle the sound of her tears. Her arms were locked tight around her shins, pulling her legs against her chest like she was worried she would fall apart if she let go.
"Hey, there," Sarah said quietly. She didn't want to spook her. "Are you lost?"
The girl opened her eyes. Sarah had never met anyone with white irises before. It was weird, but pretty. Like she was seeing things no one else got to see.
"Don't," the girl whispered. Her voice was ragged, and damp. "Don't come any closer, please."
"Why not?" Sarah asked, sitting down between the thorns on one of the rocks.
"Bad, bad, bad things happen," the girl said.
Sarah waited, but the stranger didn't elaborate.
"Well, this doesn't seem too bad. I like the purple water. Did you do that?" Sarah rested her chin on her knees, mirroring the weird girl.
"I don't know. Maybe," the girl shrugged. "I guess so."
They sat in what Sarah hoped was companionable silence for a while. Most of the time, Sarah hated the quiet around the house, but this felt… different.
"I'm Sarah," she said eventually. She was curious. "What's your name?"
"Taylor."
"It's nice to meet you, Taylor."
"It isn't," Taylor whispered.
"What do you mean?"
Taylor closed her eyes. More tears leaked out of the corners.
"They aren't coming back," Taylor choked out.
"Who?"
"Mom. And Dad. They left, and I can't find them," Taylor said. "I ruin everything."
"Oh," Sarah said.
She didn't know what to say to that, but she liked Taylor's voice.
"Maybe we can find them together?" Sarah wondered aloud.
Taylor shook her head.
"I tried. But I can't… Everything gets all messed up, when I push too hard," Taylor said.
Sarah nodded thoughtfully.
"I like it, though. The trees. And the thorns. They're pretty."
Taylor opened her strange, pale eyes.
"You think so?"
"Yeah. Normal is boring," Sarah grinned.
Taylor's answering smile was tiny, but technically present. Sarah counted that as a win.
"How old are you?" Sarah asked. It was pretty clear that Taylor wasn't going to drive the conversation along on her own, and Sarah was still curious. It wasn't every day she met a weird, fae parahuman in the woods.
"I turned thirteen two weeks ago," Taylor said softly.
"I just turned thirteen, too!" Sarah bounced in place slightly. "When's your birthday?"
It would be cool if they had the same birthday. But hers was just a week ago, not two weeks.
Not that her parents cared. Or remembered.
Reggie got her a present, though. That was nice.
"June 12th," Taylor answered.
"That wasn't two weeks ago, silly," Sarah said.
"Yes, it was," Taylor's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
"Was not."
"Was too," Taylor insisted. "It's Friday, June 28th. Two weeks and two days. I rounded down because people think it's weird if you count the days."
"It's August, honey," Sarah hated it when her mom called her 'honey', but it felt right for Taylor. Taylor obviously needed someone to take care of her. Even if Sarah's mother never did that for her. Sarah liked taking care of people.
"No, it's not," Taylor said stubbornly.
"It is! I promise," Sarah pulled out her phone.
Huh. No signal. Weird.
Still, the clock worked.
"See? August 9th, 2007," Sarah pointed out proudly. She liked being right, too.
Taylor blinked behind her glasses. The thick lenses made her eyes seem even bigger. Like a pretty fly, or a spider, framed with wild black curls.
"It's 2008, though," Taylor said.
"No, it's not!"
Why was this so hard for her to understand?
"My birthday is June 12th, 1995. 2008 minus 1995 is thirteen," Taylor reasoned.
"Okay, but mine is August 2nd, 1994," Sarah emphasized the year. "2007 minus 1994 is thirteen, too."
"We can't both be thirteen if we were born a year apart," Taylor's lips pressed into a frown.
"Which means you're still twelve, and I'm right," Sarah smiled crookedly.
"I'm not! And you aren't," Taylor's frown deepened. "I just don't have a phone to prove it."
"But how am I supposed to text you if you don't have a phone?" Sarah asked.
Taylor stared at her for a long moment before the tears started up again.
Dang it. She didn't even know what she said to set her off that time!
"Hey. Hey, it's okay," Sarah hopped down off the rock, splashing into the purple water below. It soaked through her shoes and into her socks immediately, but Sarah didn't really care. Her mother would complain, but her mother would always complain, regardless.
Sarah stepped sideways to avoid another thorn that hadn't been there a moment ago.
There was enough space against the oak tree to wedge herself in beside Taylor. She couldn't get the angle right to hug her, so she just leaned her shoulder up against Taylor's arm. Hopefully it helped.
"Can you tell me what's wrong?" Sarah tried to make her voice soothing, like Reggie did when she was crying. Back when she still cried.
"I miss them. Why did they have to leave?" Taylor's voice was muffled against her dirty jeans. "Mom and Dad are gone. Emma's gone. Everyone's gone. It isn't fair."
Sarah pushed her shoulder harder against Taylor's rigid frame.
"I'm here, for now," Sarah said. She looked up at the glass leaves overhead. "Even though I'm not really sure where 'here' is. The leaves are normally green, but I like this better."
"Me, too," Taylor hiccupped in between gasping breaths.
They sat like that for a while, until Taylor's tears finally slowed again.
Sarah didn't know what to say. She wanted to say something, though. Something that wouldn't make Taylor cry.
"So… what do you like to do, when you aren't making cool faerie forests?" Sarah asked.
Taylor hiccupped again, and wiped her nose on the sleeve of her T-shirt. That was a bit gross, but Sarah didn't comment.
"I like to read," Taylor said quietly. Sarah could hear the deep sadness under her tone, but she didn't know what to do about it.
"Me, too. What's your favorite book?" Sarah pushed forward valiantly.
"I like the Hobbit. And the Lord of the Rings. My mom used to-" Taylor cut off abruptly, but at least she didn't start crying again.
Okay. Taylor's mom liked to read. And was gone, now. Noted.
"Those are some of my favorites, too," Sarah grinned. Maybe if she smiled enough, Taylor would smile back again. "My dad said I wasn't allowed to read them yet, because they're too hard, but I did anyway. He didn't believe me when I told him, but who cares what he thinks?"
Taylor didn't smile, though.
"That's not okay. Reading is always a good thing. Nobody gets to tell you what you're allowed to read," Taylor sounded almost indignant. It was kind of funny.
"Well, it's not like Dad listens to anyone, anyway," Sarah shrugged. "Me, least of all."
"I like listening to you," Taylor whispered.
Oh.
Sarah's chest felt warm. It was weird, but… nice. Usually, nothing good ever happened when she opened her mouth.
Sarah was about to change the subject again, when something unusual caught her eye.
A shining, golden butterfly flitted lazily over the amethyst stream. It gave off its own strange, ethereal light. Like a tiny sun.
Taylor was watching it, too.
It looped in slow circles, getting closer with every pass. Sarah kept as still as she could, just in case.
The tiny, otherworldly creature landed lightly on Taylor's knee. Taylor reached out like she wanted to touch it, but paused just inches away. Like she was scared anything good would disappear if she got too close.
"All that is gold does not glitter," Taylor mumbled under her breath. Sarah wondered if she even meant to say it out loud.
But she recognized it. It was one of her favorites, too.
"Not all those who wander are lost," Sarah continued the poem with a warm smile.
Taylor glanced away from the butterfly. Her pale, eerie stare pinned Sarah in place, like a bug. But it wasn't a bad feeling. The opposite, actually.
"The old that is strong does not wither," Taylor said. She sounded like she was going to cry again, but Sarah felt like it might not be a bad thing, this time.
"Deep roots are not reached by the frost," Sarah said. She'd never been happier that she memorized this part.
Just in case.
In case of what, she hadn't known. Now, she did.
"From the ashes, a fire shall be woken," Taylor said. Her voice was stronger, now. It echoed unnaturally in the glass forest.
Sarah smiled, and she reached over to give Taylor's hand a squeeze. She was careful not to disturb the butterfly still perched on her knee.
"A light, from the shadows shall spring," Sarah continued.
It felt like something was finally fitting into place. Something important. Like she'd been lost, too, until just now.
"Renewed, shall be that which was broken," Taylor whispered.
Sarah couldn't place the emotion behind Taylor's wide, ivory eyes.
"The crownless, again shall be…" Sarah trailed off.
She was alone in the forest.
The stream was clear, normal water.
The rocks were gray, worn smooth from the current. No thorns in sight.
The leaves overhead were their usual shape, green and alive instead of glass.
And Taylor…
The strange girl and her magical world was gone, and Sarah was alone, again.
That was fine. Maybe none of it was real. That would make more sense. The whole ordeal should have been mildly terrifying, in hindsight.
So why did Sarah feel like crying, too?
…