Fantasy2

Standing there I felt curiously alone, and as if a giant audience was watching me. It was like one of those grand stages, and I was standing in the centre of the spotlight, and the orchestra was playing a frenzied finale, and I didn’t know what to do. The curtains drew open to reveal only me, and I just stood there, not saying anything, not doing anything. All around me the music waltzed on, waiting and waiting and waiting. The audience gazed impressively, and yet so detachedly it was like I didn’t want to perform for them. They would go home, and over coffee they would tell their friends that it was a good show, or maybe it wasn’t so good.

So let’s just say I walked off the stage.

As the last strains of ‘Andante, Andante’ played, I knew I wouldn’t come back. I wondered where had this all begun: where had the music really started, where had the bridge between the surreal and the unreal become real? Everything was quiet in that moment: not around me, but inside me. Around me people frenzied, panicking, asking me what the hell was going on… reporters sticking mikes in my mouth, asking in heated tones why I had suddenly decided ‘to abandon my obligations,’ and all around the music rose in giant crescendos until finally, abruptly, it stopped. Then the audience murmuring, shuffling…. my mother rushes backstage, asking me what’s gone wrong, what’s happened. Wastage of $48 million, my father is saying. He sounds worried. We’ll be hounded. What to do now? His Indian accent returns in his moments of weakness.

I think of the Korn video I saw last night, where they all wreck the CDs and stuff. Where they talk about how making music has just become a big business, an exploitation, an overcome of capitalism. I keep walking, and suddenly I feel the riches of my outfit weighing me down. I loved being rich – all these years, I loved it – but now suddenly I feel weary. This isn’t me. If I was going to be rich it wasn’t going to happen like this.



Last night I dreamed I was walking in a garden, an endless garden, with wondrous flowers and fragrances floating around. I kept walking, and then I saw my sister standing there, looking at me with an almost holy expression. I felt confused. I stopped, and for a moment we both looked at each other. Then I woke up, and the night around me seemed frighteningly illusionary.

So that brings me to where I am now – watching the sun set and steadily downing a bottle of vodka. I don’t know how I managed to escape from all of them – just all of a sudden the entire scene blurred and I saw this doorway clearly, with something I can only describe as intuition. I waited until everyone was tangled up in a mess of confusion, and then I silently slipped away. It’s too bad I didn’t manage to go home and take some things with me, but luckily I managed to take my handbag before I left. Not that that has much in it. It doesn’t even have my mobile phone, because I’d given it to my little sister, Rhea. But it has my credit card and some spare cash, which is useful. And for some obscure reason, a glittering painted stone.

“Ugh. Vodka. Such a waste of money.” That’s what my mother would say if she were here. But she isn’t, so hell with all of that. Actually she would probably explode because I’m only sixteen. But whatever.

I know I can be recognised anywhere, but for now I’m somewhere that nobody ever comes. I found this place years and years ago, when I first started being hounded by the media. It’s near my house, just by Lake Swan. I used to think Lake Swan was just an unimaginative last resort where teenagers got drunk and stoned, old geezers tried to get tanned and fit, and some overenthusiastic kids swam around in. But that was before I discovered the clearing. You see, there’s a whole horde of woods all around the lake. The lake somehow spouted out right in the middle of the woods. Maybe some drainage of flood waters in the beginning that steadily grew bigger and bigger. Some place where some woodcutters cut down trees. And our mansion is on the edge of the woods. Anyway, I was just wandering about away from the lake where all these reporters were hanging about trying to secretly film me, and when they weren’t looking I slipped off into the woods. I must have run for ages, because I was so afraid they’d come pounding after me. I was ten then, a little silly, a little thrown by the advent of stardom I’d received. Eventually I realised I was running in circles. Then just when I’d begun to break down and get scared, I found this beautiful clearing, with soft newly washed grass and some stones and rocks here and there, and one particularly large heap forming a nice seat. I’m sitting there now, and through the trees there’s a perfect view of the sunset.

I look down at myself – at the expensive Victorian outfit which the costume designer made me wear because she wanted an old-fashioned theme. She’s so warped she made me wear stays and petticoats and everything. And these stupid boots over my flats. I took the boots off, for a minute debating whether this might be a bad idea, then thrusting them down anyway, then becoming more conscientious and setting them properly. I undid my hair, letting the tresses fall down in all their gloated splendour, then undoing the stupid stays and taking off the whole ‘milky white rose silk’ affair, until I’m down to my under-dress, the white cotton floating around my bare legs and the flats on my feet. This is ok. Respectable, even. I folded the clothes, looked at them for a moment, dramatically feeling as if this was it. The End. Goodbye, Satine. You are no longer Satine LaMarr, the famous singer/lyricist. Popular teen icon. All that…. vanished.

I picked up my handbag and purposefully strode out of the clearing, only this time not towards my house, but somewhere else…. I knew that I could get lost and when it was night time I would be quite cold, but I didn’t care. After all, what is better than to live for the moment…

I was walking for ages, getting a little tired, a little bit doubtful of whether this was really a good idea, but now I was too far away to know how to get back to the clearing, or to the house, or wherever. Before I could really start to panic, the carved out path ended and I was stuck staring at a rather frightening expanse of wild, wild woods. I was probably beyond the city limits, even. I stared at the woods. I looked behind me. The path snaked away, but I hadn’t stuck to the path the whole time. Anyway, there was nothing to do but go back along the path. But I had walked less than a hundred metres when the path ended in another just as frightening expanse of woods. I breathed deeply, trying to calm myself down. No need to panic. You’ll be fine. You’re probably fairly close to civilisation, someone will come and rescue you. But now it was quite dark and I was scared. The moonlight suddenly seemed eerie and I felt as if I was years younger than I really was. It was like that game, Adventure, that I would try and try to win, but I never could succeed in doing so. I always had to quit it.

I stood there for a long time, contemplating, walking back and forth. I didn’t quite have the guts to start shouting for help, or to tear through the woods again. Then suddenly I had this feeling of being watched. I suddenly saw this pair of beautiful, exotic, dangerously serene eyes open, only they were in my mind. It was like Frodo’s experience in The Lord of The Rings when he goes into Lorien. I wondered if I was going insane. But these eyes were different: they weren’t like Galadriel’s at all. They were younger, much, much younger, for one thing. And fairer. And at the same time…. much more perilous and appealing.

I sat down on a flat stone, and peered around, my head cupped in my hands. I really didn’t know what to do. This didn’t fit into my scheme of plans at all. I looked around. Suddenly I noticed an opening to a cave. I paused, thinking going into the cave wouldn’t be a good idea because I might get lost and die of starvation and cold, and also what if there were bats or worse in there? Eventually I decided going into the cave might lead to an opening somewhere else, and anyway, I needed shelter for the night, so I might as well go inside. Just as I was entering, I thought I saw this tall, slender girl, about my age, with the same eyes, leaning against the stone, her pale fingers tracing patterns on the cave walls. She watched me. The curious thing was that she looked like me, and at the same time she looked entirely different from me. Suddenly I realised that her eyes were mine: only I was looking at them in a different way. Her hair was the same as mine, too: long, black and thick. And her figure and skin were also the same. But then I thought her hair had hints of red in it, unlike mine. And her eyes were greener. And she was beautiful. Too perfect to be me. She was dressed completely in white, and the red (or black?) of her hair made a striking contrast. I blinked. She was gone. I thought I must be hallucinating. It happens sometimes, doesn’t it? But now I was really worried. Anyway I climbed into the cave.

At first it was pitch black. But then as I walked on some moonlight appeared to come from somewhere. I was going deeper and deeper, afraid that this was truly the end of my life. Stalagmites and stalactites stood gravely in my way, as the moonlight grew stronger and stronger. And all along I kept seeing things: odd-looking people dancing around, bottles and glasses of wine, a single shining stone just like the one in my handbag. At this juncture I took out my own stone. It seemed to radiate out some unnatural glow. My hand shook, and it dropped on the floor, and I thought I saw faces turning to me, surprised. I picked up the stone and thrust it in my handbag, running down the corridors, weaving through the unending patterns of the cave. Now I seemed to be going uphill. Thank goodness. I was so relieved. Now finally I might be getting somewhere. Maybe I’d be able to escape. I hurried past a mirage of a woman sitting on a stool knitting a poncho (she looked strangely like someone I should know), and then there was this grand opening. But it wasn’t at all like what I thought it would be. The woods had ended, and the sprawling streets of a sleeping city were in front of me, but it wasn’t my city. It wasn’t Bacchanal. It wasn’t any other city that I’d ever seen before, either. It seemed… different, though I didn’t know how. The odd vehicle cruised down the street as usual, the streetlights glared and made an odd contrast with the moonlight. The buildings towered above me as I walked down the sidewalk, away from the sudden opening in the cave. Now I could barely see the opening – in fact, I would say it had disappeared entirely except that was impossible – it seemed to be covered by shrubbery.

A drunken man leered at me, and I shrunk away, shuddering both in disgust and in fear. He grabbed my arm harshly and peered into my face so that I could see the horrible yellow rottenness of his teeth and smell his drink-addled breath. Drink! That was it. No wonder I’d been hallucinating. But I hadn’t even finished that bottle…. well, now I didn’t have time to think about that. Right now I was really, really scared. I didn’t know what I’d do… who knew what kind of drunk idiot he was? Suddenly I felt numb and all my knowledge of martial arts, flexibility…. it all drained out and dripped in puddles around me, slowly slinking away.

“Hey, you… little girls like yourself shouldn’t be around this time-ah-the-night.” He said gruffly, then laughed and let go of me, staggering down the road. I sighed, relieved. I was fairly lucky so far… nothing had really happened to me, except that I was suddenly in some strange city. I thought I’d better hitchhike and aim for the nearest hotel. But after hours of sticking out my thumb, then giving way to lunatic waving of the arms, I thought maybe it would be better to just walk on and try to find the nearest hotel myself. But I was on a highway, away from any signs of hospitality. Maybe I should just curl up on the road and sleep. I was exhausted. What time was it, anyway?

Finally a car pulled up beside me. The car looked glossy and new, not the kind of car I’d expect to stop and let hitchhikers camp in. The window rolled down and a rather pretty-looking girl peered out and said, “Well, get in, then.”

“Oh, thank you,” I breathed, getting in the back seat. The girl who’d spoken to me wasn’t the driver – the driver was a rather macabre-looking girl dressed all in black, though I couldn’t see all of her. Her hands looked fascinatingly scary – amazingly long black nails and snake-head rings adorned them, and the skin was almost white. The other girl seemed more normal, she had light chocolate skin that was much more natural, and she was munching on a chocolate bar and wearing a fun shirt and jeans, which suggested that she was a more regular teenager. Her hair was weird, though – bright purple and green with blonde streaks.

“Where do you want us to leave you, then?” She asked, in a slightly bossy voice.

“Um, to the nearest hotel, please.” I said softly, a little uneasy.

“A hitchhiker can’t afford to stay in a hotel!” She sneered. “What are you doing, anyway, dressed in that weird dress and waving your arms about?”

“Uh, I was… lost. I came from a play and then I got… well, lost.”

“Leave her alone, Miranda.” The macabre girl said, surprising me. Her voice had a foreign lilt to it. Then, to me, she said, “Who are you?”

Miranda grunted, but didn’t say anything.

“I’m Rowan,” I said, thinking fast.

“Alright, Rowan, we’ll leave you at the nearest hotel. Unless you’d prefer somewhere else? You can come to my place if you like, there’s a party going on.”

“Oh, thanks, but –” I began, but Miranda cut me off, hissing, “Why would we want her to come?”

“I think we would,” The other girl responded. “Rowan, I think we’ll go to my place.”

“Well…” I said, hesitating. Then she continued, “My name is Satine LaMarr.” She pulled into the driveway of a house rollicking with music, and turned to look at me. She was the girl I’d seen at the cave entrance.



A few minutes later, I was dazedly sitting on a bouncy bed in Satine (???!!!!!)’s room.

“You see, Satine…” The other Satine was saying, as she closed the door behind her. Miranda had vanished into the throng of partying people. “There are diverse possibilities for existence. It is entirely possible that we existed in parallel universes, and I am the you that you could have been, only we were placed in different universes. You could say we are clones, or you could say we are the same person but at the same time two separate, entirely unalike beings. You could say that you climbed out of the cave into a separate city, or you could say that the cave was a wormhole between your universe and my own.”

I stared at her. She weaved a strand of reddish black hair around her finger, staring intently back at me. Then she continued, “You see, you weren’t hallucinating. There are many people who exist in the wormhole, too. It can be quite a comfortable place to live in, when you really think about it. A kind of place to think about where you truly belong, or if you really belong anywhere at all. A few years ago I discovered that we live small lives, contained only within the set frames that the so-called knowledgeable people lay out for us. Then I discovered the wormhole. So, Satine, it was me you saw today. I would not say we are the same person, only we are varieties of the same person. You see, this is a parallel universe. Which means that for everyone existing in my universe, there is the same person, but somewhat different, in your universe. Because even parallels are not exactly the same…”

I stared at her. I couldn’t think of anything to say. I wondered if what she said was true. I wondered whether I was dreaming, or if I had been knocked out and now I was really hallucinating. Or if this was all just some weird joke.

“Now, let’s say you’re Rowan, and I’m Satine. It’s easier that way, isn’t it?” She smiled at me, then ushered me into a bathroom. “Now, you look quite messed up, why don’t you have a shower, and I’ll lay out some clothes for you on the bed? Then you can come down and party with the rest of us.” She walked out, shutting the door behind her. And because I didn’t know what else to do, I started running the water.



After a grand night of partying, dancing with unknown people most of whom seemed really friendly, getting slightly drunk and slightly hungover, I woke up the next morning in Satine’s bedroom, and for a moment I was completely disorientated. Then I realised that I couldn’t be dreaming at all, because this was reality. But then what is reality anyway? What we think is reality really may not be reality at all… and if what this Satine said was true, then maybe I’d been living in an illusion and finding realities illusions and illusions realities…. but then maybe there was yet another Satine in another parallel universe who knew more than this Satine or me, and so on and on… would that ever end?

This prospect was unnerving. It seemed ludicrous that so many strange things could happen in the course of one day.





Before I could really contemplate this issue further, the door opened and a sixty-ish old woman walked in, laying some sheets on the other side of the bed. When she saw that I was awake, she smiled and said, “Good Morning, Rowan… had a nice sleep, then?”

“Yes,” I said, wondering who she was.

“I’m Satine’s grandmother,” She said, extending a hand, which I slowly shook. “My name is Anna. You can call me Big Mam, though. That’s what all the kids round here call me.” She smiled a broad, white-toothed, sincere smile at me. She looked comfortable and easy, like someone who meant what she said and did good for other people. It was funny thinking she was Satine’s grandmother, because after all I was the real Satine. Then I wondered… how did I know I was the real Satine? Maybe the other Satine was the real one and I was just some digital pixel imitation of her… this made me quite shocked. Maybe I’d just been invented as a copy… Big Mam was tapping me on the shoulder. “Rowan, darling, you alright? I was asking whether you’d like some waffles for breakfast.”

“Oh!” I felt odd. “Oh, well, if you don’t mind…”

“Good… then you be down in fifteen minutes, eh? You can borrow a few of Satine’s clothes…”

I wondered how much Big Mam knew about me, but I didn’t know whether it would be a good idea to ask. So I didn’t. I bathed and brushed my teeth and stuff, and then rummaged through Satine’s wardrobe, feeling rather embarrassed to take her underwear, but thinking… well, what else was there to do about it? I eventually pulled out a neutral looking black T-shirt and a khaki miniskirt pushed at the very bottom of her closet, then put on my flats and went downstairs. Satine was sitting at the kitchen table, pouring maple syrup on her waffles. “Oh, hello,” She said, when she saw me. “You could have chosen some better clothes, you know,” She added lightly, then pulled out a chair for me.

“So where are you headed, Rowan?” Big Mam asked, ladling some waffles onto my plate. “Satine told me you’re going somewhere… though we’d like to have you for longer, you know… get to know you and things…”

“Oh, um…” I said, quickly looking at Satine.

“She’s going to Riverside, Big Mam.” Satine said serenely, passing me the maple syrup. “Want some?”

I swallowed, wondering where Riverside was and how I was going to get there, and what Satine was planning to do with me.



Later in her bedroom, Satine looked at me and sighed. “You really have no clue, do you?” She asked.

I stared at her blankly.

“No, you don’t.” She answered the question herself. “Well, first of all, what did you run away for?”

I thought about this. It seemed a difficult question, put like that. “I ran away because…” I looked at Satine, at the girl who looked so much like me and said she could be an alternate version of me. “Because I wanted to find myself.” I said, looking at a piece of embroidered lace on the curtain, fluttering in the breeze. “Because I was sick of being commercialised, hounded by paparazzi, being someone I didn’t really want to be. I love music, I do, but I never really envisioned a popstar image like that. I wanted to create music so that I and other people would enjoy it, not have to pay to listen to it or else with difficulty download it. I wanted to be part of everyone but that’s not what happened.” I looked up at Satine, who was looking back at me very intently.

“But that wasn’t the real reason, was it?” She asked quietly. I looked at her. Her eyes peered into mine, almost as if they were trying to read my soul… if I had a soul. I had this peculiar feeling that she could read my mind… but how could that be possible? And all of a sudden I had this strange feeling… of jealousy. Why couldn’t I have been like this Satine, who seemed to have the most exotic aura about her, who seemed to read other people’s minds, who seemed to know so much? Why was she so… intriguing and perfect? Why wasn’t I?

And she was right, too… I don’t know how she knew, but she probably did.

“No,” I admitted, looking at her, attempting to appear serene, though inside I was full of conflicting, peculiar emotions that somehow she had managed to arouse. “No… actually… I wanted to find my sister.”

“Your sister…” Satine looked slightly puzzled, as if she had suddenly found something that didn’t fit into her picture of me. “Who is your sister?”

“Her name’s Natacha, she’s three years older than me. And she disappeared four years ago.”

“Disappeared?” Satine raised a slender eyebrow.

“Yes… nobody knew where she went, or whether she was kidnapped or what. The police couldn’t find her. Finally my parents gave up… but I want to find her. I don’t know why she never came back.” I suddenly felt utterly miserable. My eyes started to blur up, and I rubbed them quickly, feeling small and inconspicuous.

Satine was looking at me expressionlessly. She was about to say something, when the phone rang. Satine let it ring for a while, then picked it up. “Hello?” She said, her voice seeming tired. Then her eyes widened a little. “No, she’s not here.”

I straightened up, suddenly alert. But nobody could have found me here… could they?

“I’m telling you. She’s not here.” Satine sounded vehement now.

“I don’t know what your problem is. Can’t you accept the truth?” She sounded mad now.

Then, “Who are you anyway?”

But just then three people barged into the room from the back door, all dressed in black leather and wearing face masks and hoods. Before either of us could say anything, one guy grabbed me and another grabbed Satine. Her eyes widened even more and she seemed to be trying to signal something frantically to me, only the guy’s hand was over her mouth, and I couldn’t understand. I tried to scream, but the guy who was holding me had clamped something tight that smelled of old leather around my mouth. The third person was a woman, but I didn’t realise that until she spoke. Her eyes pierced into mine and Satine’s, and then she said, “Good. Now bring them down.” Her voice seemed familiar…. Though I had no idea where I could have ever seen (or heard) her before.

Every time I tried to flail around and get away, the guy’s hold tightened on me. Then he roughly picked me up and dragged me down the stairs and out of the house. I wondered where Big Mam was. I was really, really frightened and somewhat hysterical by then, but I couldn’t cry out or do anything, and no matter how many karate kicks and tricks I aimed at him, he wouldn’t be deterred. I could see Satine struggling too, but it seemed these thugs had supernatural muscular strength.

Then they pushed us into the second back seat of a sinister black stretch limo. The minute I was able to get my gag off I wrenched it apart. Satine had started screaming for help, but the mysteriously evil woman, who was driving, said, “Scream all you want, girls. This car is soundproof and nobody can see inside from outside.” The thugs sniggered.

Satine fell quiet suddenly. Then I said, in what I hoped was a serene, powerful voice, “Where are you taking us? What do you want with us?”

“Rowan… or should I say Satine… always the questioner. Darling, you’ll find out soon enough, won’t you?”

How did she know my real name?! I was flabbergasted, but Satine didn’t seem to be. She softly whispered to me, “There are always other people who discover the mysteries of the universes… and who try to use them to their advantage.”

“Absolutely correct, Venetia!” The woman applauded. Satine turned pale. I looked at her. “Venetia?” I asked.

Satine didn’t say anything.

“What, you mean you were fooled into believing the pack of lies this little chick told you?” The woman laughed. “Darrr-link, don’t be so daft. Her true name is Venetia Savin, and she’s just been trying to fool you into believing some junk. Parallel Universes – as if! But it is true we delve into mysteries… and use them to our advantage!” The woman laughed, the thugs snickering along with her.

I stared at Satine, not sure whether I should believe this evil woman or not. She might be more likely to lie – but somehow I felt as if this part, at least, was somewhat true. Satine was not another version of me at all… so why had she been telling me that?

Satine looked back, suddenly her expression turning to sadness. “It’s true, I’m Venetia, not… Satine. But it is true that we exist in parallel universes. And I have this feeling that we are connected… and so I pretended I was another you.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Venetia, stop all this nonsense,” The gangster woman snarled, “You know very well that you’re cooking up a whole lot of trash.”

“If it’s nonsense, you wouldn’t have kidnapped us like this,” Venetia said, serenely.

The woman chuckled. “She’s smart, this one… but not smart enough.” The thugs growled a little as she pulled into a narrow side lane. “Venetia darling, I don’t know when you’ll realise that true strength comes from power.”

“It doesn’t,” I said, surprising myself. “I don’t know how you’ve been fooled into believing that, but it’s not true. If power gave true strength, then why does power hurt people so much? Because people want to prove their power, so many other people have been vanquished, hurt, killed. Is that strength?”

“They shouldn’t have tried,” The woman laughed. “Power is supreme… you either give in or you die.”

“But does that sound fair?” I insisted. “Isn’t peace a better solution? Why does anyone need to be more powerful than anyone else?”

The woman muttered, but didn’t say anything.

“Who are you anyway?” I asked, disgusted.

“She’s Vashti,” Venetia answered, “She’s the servant of the evil sorceress Sadista.”

“Bodyguard, not servant.” Vashti snarled.

“Whatever,” Venetia said, disgustedly. “It doesn’t matter, does it? If Sadista really won, do you think she’d give you what you want – power? You’ve got to be kidding me there. All Sadista wants is power for herself – she isn’t going to share it, Vashti.”

“Shut up, yer little fool of a chick!” one of the thugs leered.

“I don’t think so,” Venetia said. “I think you’re forgetting something… I wasn’t given the ninth stone for nothing, you know.” Before I could comprehend what she was saying, she had drawn out a glittering stone… just like the one I had had in my handbag, which I still had in my pocket, where I must have slipped it in… or maybe, I thought, maybe Venetia had slipped it in, because it had some strange use… Then Venetia said, in a clear, cold voice, “Stop the car.”

Surprisingly enough, Vashti stopped the car.

“Unlock our sides,” Venetia commanded. The doors were unlocked. I quickly got out.

“You will not follow us. Do you understand me? You will not follow us. Or try to take us again.” And then Venetia got out, joined me, and, still holding the stone aloft on her palm, she walked steadily by me. I kept feeling uneasy, thinking we should run away now that we had the chance. But Vashti and her thugs didn’t follow us, and when we were well out of their sight, after weaving through a complicated maze of streets, Venetia slipped the stone back in her pocket. She sighed, and then looked at me. “Okay, now hurry. In a little while the power of the stone will no longer hold sway over them. Let’s go,” She pulled me down into a narrow side alleyway, then through several mazes of streets, and we were running so fast it was like we were flying – and I was too out of breath to ask her anything. Then suddenly she plunged me down a dark ramp, and came running down after me. Then, when we were way down underground, she flung us inside a huge cavern, bolting the door behind her. She flicked a switch on, and the cavern was filled with light. It was empty and echoes cast off the walls, and it was… creepy. It reminded me of the cave… or the wormhole.

Venetia leaned against the door, her face flushed, her hair spread-eagled rather romantically on the wood. She smiled slightly at me. I was gasping for breath too by then, realising how fast we had really been. “They won’t find us here,” She said, finally. She walked around the desolate cavern. “But that doesn’t mean they won’t try.” Then she looked at my confused expression, and sighed. “Oh, Satine. I’m sorry I told you I was you. I’m not… but I could be like you. I have a belief that in parallel universes, there are people who are similar… but that’s just a hypothesis of mine. I’m sorry I lied to you. I didn’t know how else I could make sure you would stay with me until…. oh, until whenever. I’m sorry, alright?”

“You didn’t have to,” I said, quietly. “You didn’t have to say you were me to make me stay. You could have just explained everything. Even now – what does all this mean? What are these stones? How come they seem to control other people’s minds, actions, thoughts, whatever? Who is Sadista? How can sorceresses exist? How can magic exist? Why have I been pulled into this? And aren’t these stones also some warped form of power? How do I know who you really are? And Big Mam called you Satine… so how can you be Venetia? I’m all mixed up.” I leaned against the door despairingly, wondering if my real life back on Earth had been best after all.

Venetia sighed again. “The stones are known as the Rudayeen. They were created seven thousand years ago by the great sorceress Aftaina. Aftaina was trying to do good for the world, but before she could create eternal peace, she was killed by Sadista, who was the opposing sorceress. Sadista is immortal, unfortunately – so we don’t know what the outcome of this could be. The thing is, magic in the literal sense does not exist, but sometimes… it can, in a way. So nine stones were created. You have the seventh stone. Three of the stones were lost in the battle of Sa’btian, when Aftaina was killed. One of the stones is in the hands of Sadista, which is why this universe is under turmoil. Unfortunately, the stone she has was Aftaina’s stone, and it has the power to command all the other stones under its power. But because of resistance, Sadista hasn’t been able to do that. If magic can be created, it can be altered as well. And that’s what we’ve been trying to do. With these stones, you can command other people to do things. It’s dangerous, but if they are used for good, then it works for the best. They are a form of power… and it is true that power does not solve things… but something needed to be done to somehow conquer Sadista. She was making people miserable. She still is. I was able to command Big Mam to call me Satine for a specified period of time. You cannot know who I really am… nor can I know who you really are. Nobody knows who the other person really is. But if we’re going to be friends, we have to trust each other. We have no other option. And if you’re on my side, or if I’m on your side, then why should we not trust each other? And I desperately need your help. We need to find all the stones, and steal Sadista’s stone. Then we can use them to finish Aftaina’s task… we can create eternal peace. Together.”

I stared at Venetia. Everything seemed to change so fast… suddenly I was plunged into some kind of Lord of the Rings storyline. Was I really part of this? Or was I a real person wandering around in fantasy world? Was a writer right now modelling this world, and…. developing me as I went along? I have to say this prospect frightened me. It all seemed so strange… that I didn’t seem to have any real idea of my existence.

I closed my eyes, willing myself to calm down. After a while a neutral sort of calm seemed to settle down in me, and I opened my eyes, and was able to see things more clearly than before.

“Venetia,” I said, and I thought I saw her expression falter, “I don’t think peace can be ‘created,’ as if it is a material thing. Peace is a state gained by understanding and friendship, and love and equity. Creating some sort of transitional state of so-called peace wouldn’t really be peace at all, it would be a means of control, and people would just live in a set framework, being denied their rights... and even that could not last forever, you know.” I looked at Venetia entreatingly. “I think the stones should be rid of their power.”

“But then Sadista will win. We need some sort of defence – don’t you see how it is, Satine?” Venetia started to pace up and down the room impatiently. “First we have to get her stone – then ok, say we take the power away from them. That in itself is not an easy thing to do. I don’t even know if it’s possible to vanquish power once it is there. But Sadista will never change – don’t you realise that? You haven’t even met her – you’re assuming she’s some gentle person or something... well, she’s not. Sadista awakens fear in everybody, including me. And that is a feat, because hardly anybody can scare the heiress of Aftaina.” Suddenly Venetia seemed taller and more regal, and I was surprised at how a change seemed to have been suddenly evoked in her. Then she seemed to be full of sadness, and she shrunk into her usual self again. “Aftaina was my ancestress – a line follows from her to me directly, through seven thousand years of Shakuntala lives.” Before I could ask what she meant, she went on, “The Shakuntala are known because they are almost immortal. Each of their lifetimes can be as much as a thousand years. You are also a Shakuntala – but there were always two lines of the Shakuntala. One was the Sha’fkain, and the other was the Sandeya. They were the heavenly people, other people considered them gods and goddesses, but in reality they were just people who lived longer.... and who had certain powers... the people built on these powers and so the Shakuntala became legend, because as the line went down the power faded... they say it will be awoken one day. You are of the Sandeya line and I am of the Sha’fkain line. The Creator, as people call her, though in fact she was not a creator, just the first sorceress to ever be born, was Ayana. She had two lovers – Yosef and Arind, and by one she had Aftaina and by the other she had Sadista.”

I stared at her, still thinking maybe all of this was just a fairy tale, an extra long dream. Where did I fit into this strange universe with sorceresses and powerful stones – and mixed in with all that was the fact that I am a twenty first century child, and magic... magic is something everyone ridicules now. Now everything has a scientific theory. How could this universe be so full of power and magic – even if not in the literal sense, as Venetia put it? But then maybe in this universe things were slightly different, although they also bode a certain similarity to our own universe – our universe was designed slightly differently, maybe, by nature. Maybe here nature was just... different.

“So what are you saying then – that Sadista and Aftaina were half-sisters?” I asked, retreating back into this puzzle of powerful people.

“Yes, they were.” Venetia said, simply. “Sadista’s line was known as the Sandeya, and Aftaina’s line as the Sha’fkain.”

I stared at her. I was suddenly appalled. “So are you saying that...” I drew back in horror. “I am Sadista’s heiress?”

“Yes,” Venetia said, and I thought I saw a glimmer of triumph flash in her eyes, if only for a second.

I was horrified. “But I’m not at all like her! What do you mean?! I’m good, I’m...”

Venetia cut me off abruptly. “Satine, Satine, Satine. Calm down, alright? I never said you were a bad person. You aren’t. See, Sadista was a good person – she was the faery-angel of the people at one point. That was what they called her. She had a huge family, and the world flourished in peace. But then she was allured by The All-Powerful, the sorcerer. She fell in love with him and then when she realised it was all a lie, that he was just power-hungry and all his power came from hate and evilness, by then it was too late. She abandoned her family and went away with him. He promised to make her a queen among the Dark Lords and Ladies, but he was just a traitor. When she found out he was a traitor she went mad with rage and that was when the seven hundred year long war was fought, between her and him. In the end she killed him, and stole the stone of Evil Immortality which he had created. And so she feeds on that stone, trying to merge it with the First Stone, Aftaina’s stone. There is one way to rid the Stone of Evil Immortality from its power. And that is by wrenching it from its master’s mind. Which is impossible, because Sadista feeds on it. If she can realise that the stone is useless, that would be a miracle... a miracle I don’t think we can achieve. So the best thing is to use the Nine Stones to vanquish the Evil Stone and its master, Sadista, and then... then to create an ideal peace.”

“Why not then rid all the stones of their power?” I asked. “I think we should try to wrench the Evil Stone from Sadista’s mind. If we really want it to happen, it can.”

Venetia looked bitter for a moment, then her face grew distant. Then she said, slowly, “There is one more option. The Evil Stone was once the tenth of the Nine. They were a family of ten stones, and while The Evil Sorcerer got one, Aftaina found the other nine. But the thing is it could be possible to change the power of the Evil Stone into good, though that would also mean making Sadista a good person. Which, again, is impossible. You have so much optimism in you, Satine, but you don’t realise that this isn’t a book, waiting to finish so the author can go and get it published and millions of kids can wow themselves out reading it. This is real.” She sounded vehement, and it seemed that power radiated out of her.

“How do you know this is real?” I asked, sliding one finger down the cold wall. “How do we know anything is real? Until yesterday, I never believed in parallel universes. I would term them unreal. Then I find out they are real. So if it’s possible to find out that the unreal is actually real, couldn’t the real also be in actuality unreal?” I looked at Venetia, one eyebrow raised. She looked mildly uneasy. “Look at this wall.” I slid my hands down it. “You think it is real because you can see, touch, feel it. Right? You can hear echoes bouncing off it. But then you can’t see, feel, touch emotions, and yet they are real. So our senses could also delude us. And if that is possible, then it is also possible that we are just characters in a story somebody else is writing.”

“Stop it!” Venetia looked appalled. “Satine, stop saying all this philosophical trash. Let’s deal with the issue at hand. Sadista is trying to conquer the universe! It’s imperative that we somehow stop her!” She looked frantic by now, standing in the middle of the cavern, her arms poised theatrically.

But just then a musical, male, seductive, powerfully and dangerously attractive voice said, “Yes, it is imperative that we stop her. But the philosophical possibilities are also imperative to think about. If we realise that our lives may not even truly exist, we would become humbler, and if we can convince Sadista of things like that... well, we can convince her that in truth it is good that makes people happy, not power. Love and peace will make everyone happier, and she in herself too... she’s not happy being evil. She’s just trapped inside someone who isn’t really her. Remember that she was good once.”

We turned around simultaneously. A guy stood there – a musical, seductive, powerfully and dangerously extremely attractive guy – leaning against the cavern wall, poising elegantly and sleekly, like a cat who’s just enjoying himself. He also had a certain romanticism and thrill about him which made me feel breathless and like I was ten feet above the ground, floating in the air. And the strangest part of all was that he looked.... oddly familiar.

Venetia had turned pale. She seemed shocked and at the same time... elated.

He looked at each of us, and it was like he was really and truly reading our minds, our souls, our everything. His eyes weren’t like ours – they seemed to be twilight-coloured, and their hue was fantastically camouflaging. His hair was black like ours, but it seemed a mixture of reddish and bluish black. He seemed to be some sort of mixture of both of us in appearance... and male. And that seemed to make him even more perfect than he already was.

“Yanik,” Venetia murmured.

And then I realised. But he couldn’t be... it wasn’t possible... all these flashbacks... me and Yanik playing in my garden, then later sitting on the swing, kissing.... kissing! This made me gasp, remembering and then... no, but he couldn’t be the same one. Four years seemed to have made so much difference... and suddenly I felt overcome with all these conflicting emotions. He was my childhood best friend and my first love... how could he be the same person? We thought he had died... I gasped again as the full impact of this hit me. No, he couldn’t be the same... could he? The music started again...

Yanik smiled, and looked intently at me, directly. “I am the same person, Satine... whether you believe me is a different matter, but I am Yanik O’Hara. They thought I’d drowned in the river...” Suddenly he laughed, and his laugh was bitter and cold. “But I’d found a wormhole... to Sadista’s castle. Luckily the dream-weaver, Elyssa, found me before Sadista could capture me. And so I am Elyssa’s apprentice... and now I find you here. What an odd coincidence.”

I was so stunned I couldn’t say anything. But Venetia could. “What the hell is going on?” She demanded. “You know each other already? You told me you were Elyssa’s lover, not her... apprentice.” She stared accusingly at Yanik.

I stared at him even more, suddenly all my hope turning to despair, and this overwhelming sense of sadness vanquishing me. “I thought you loved me,” I managed to say. “You could have come back for me.” Then I saw the passage behind him, and I whirled past them, everything getting so mixed and confused. How could this be? How could Yanik be alive? And how could he have stayed on, making us all so sad because we thought he was dead? What about his parents? And I knew it was selfish, but... most of all... what about me? Didn’t he care? Now it seemed he loved someone else... I kept running, thinking there were too many things for me to analyse, I wanted to analyse my old life, but instead I got a new life... and I didn’t care that Venetia and Yanik were yelling after me, yelling for me to come back... and then suddenly this huge black hole... complete and absolute darkness... loomed in front of me, and suddenly I was so afraid I could hardly breathe, I could sense this hatred, this desire to murder, to KILL!... waiting to capture me, to eat me, to kill me, to swallow me whole... and I was petrified, and then everything went black as I was sucked into the hole.



It seemed aeons later I slowly woke up. I was lying in a fluffy, downy bed in... in a cave. A cave? Where had this come from? Was I in the wormhole again? And... I felt a chill come over me... what had happened to the wormhole?

Then suddenly I could see something – it seemed like a memory – me sitting on an iron chair, bound in chains. Then – this evil, awful apparition – a cloud of black hatred – coming inside, swirling at me. I could vaguely make out the shape of a woman in its blundering haze. It was horrible, like having knives dug into my eyes, into all the parts of my body. It was unbearable. And when she spoke, it was a deafening, earthquake-inducing, cruel roar. “I am Sadista,” She roared, “Do not dare defy me or else this is what you shall face!” Then suddenly the horrible haze disappeared and she was a woman – a most beautiful woman – clad in black. But there was still that lurking, menacing fear about her – it made me shiver and shudder, unable to block away her roar. And when she spoke, it sounded sinisterly cruel and full of hate and death, “So you are Water, then. When I have Fire then I will be able to wield the true power... that will shape the destiny of this Earth. Oh, Satine... you thought Vashti was bad, did you? That was not enough, though...” And she grew taller and taller and more and more threatening and scary and awful until I was shaking and tears were running down my face and I was begging and begging for her to unbind me. But she was merciless. “Now I know you,” She finally said. “I know you inside and out, and I know exactly how I can manipulate you.” But then suddenly her eyes widened and she grew pale.

And that was when the sweet, musical melody started. It was so wonderful and ecstatic, so beautiful, so wondrous after the awful pain I had been experiencing. It was good beyond anything I had ever experienced. And then Elyssa, the dream-weaver, appeared in front of me. I don’t know how I knew it was her. I just knew... And she said, in a lovely, amazing melodious lilt, “I am here, Satine. Do not worry – for hope and love are what always prevail.” The song grew stronger, and Sadista’s hate faded farther and farther way... exploding in anger and insanity and lunacy at my being taken from her, but fading away... going, going, going, going.... gone.

And now I was here, and I was safe. I shivered, remembering it all, and I was so glad to be loved and safe and away from Sadista. She was so unnaturally full of hatred I could not even describe how frightening and horrible she was. And now I knew what Venetia meant when she said this was no fairy tale.. and now I understood exactly what she had meant. It was impossible for something so full of hate and murder and loathing to ever become good. She was rotten, horrible and wasted to the core... there was no way to win against her. And that seized me with a huge sense of hopelessness. What would we do now there was no way we could withstand Sadista? And this was only too real...



“Satine?” I looked up, startled. A girl stood by the window, leaning a little on the window seat. Like Venetia, she was beautiful, but not in the fiery, dangerous way that Venetia was. This girl had a wise sadness about her, and she looked gentle and mystical, not as if she would be dangerous. But there was something in the way she looked at you, like she knew exactly what the truth was... it could make you feel queer. Her appearance was normal enough, really – brown hair and hazel eyes, but she still looked ethereal. It was her clothes, really, that were odd. She was wearing a dress, or rather a robe or gown, that looked as if it was made out of silk and satin combined, purest white even though it trailed on the floor, and simply outlandish. She did not wear any jewellery, except for a ring on her left ring finger, in which was set a stone – one of the Nine, I knew, just looking at it. She smiled at me a little, trailing her fingers across the plush leather of the window seat.

She looked extremely familiar. I don’t know how...

“You know me,” She said, “and I know you. But you have forgotten me already.” A sort of sadness seemed to dawn on her face, but then she smiled again. “I am Elyssa.”

Elyssa, the dream-weaver. I knew her and yet I did not know her. Why had I forgotten?

“Yes,” I said, quickly, hurriedly, ashamedly. “Yes, of course.”

“I am here to tell you one thing,” She said, slowly. “Then I have to leave. I have a lot of work to do.” She sighed, then continued, “Here is the fourth stone.” She took off the ring and gave it to me. “When you reach the Garden of the Beginning of Time, you can change them and make them ordinary stones. Then let them slip into the Stream of Endless Aeons. That will change things as they were, as they are, as they will be. But do not tell Venetia, although she will come with you. Do not tell her until the very end. You must find the three stones that were lost, you must take Venetia’s stone, and Yanik’s stone, you have mine and yours. Then you must take Aftaina’s stone from Sadista. And last of all – you will have to take your sister’s stone.” She looked at me very intently. “Natacha’s stone, the Second.”

“Natacha...!” I gasped. My lovely sister, who had gone missing for years, so that I could only remember her in dreams and in haziness. “She has a stone? She’s here? Where is she?”

“You will have to find that out for yourself,” Elyssa said.

“Why can’t you tell me?” I asked, suddenly desperate. “She’s my sister. Doesn’t that make a difference to you?”

“Satine,” Elyssa suddenly leaned over the bed I was lying in, peering in at my face. “Don’t you understand? You cannot have all the answers. If people always tell you things, how will you find out truth for yourself? You need to have a mind and individualism of your own...” Then she sighed again. “But the one thing I have to tell you: whatever you do, do not ever forget me. Because if you do, I will never be able to come back to you...” She looked sad.

“What do you mean?” I asked. “I would not forget you again, not now that I know you...”

“Do you really know me?” Elyssa asked. “Oh, Satine. What is knowledge anyway? It’s just a term we use – but who knows what it is in reality? You know me because you have spoken to me, you have seen me. But supposing I was completely in disguise? Would you know me? See, it’s all such a relative concept.”

I was silent, wondering... so was this the way the world was? A strange kind of reality that people accepted because there was nothing else to do?

“Well, you will find things out for yourself, as I said. Now... I have to go. But, before I go... you will remember me. You have known me for a long time...” She sat down beside me, and, taking my face in her slender, soft hands, she kissed me, tenderly. She looked into my eyes intensely, then smiled. “Au revoir.” And then she had shimmered through the doorway, and was gone.

I could still feel her kiss on my lips, and I was too amazed to really rationalise this. Why had she kissed me? And how was I ever going to do what she wanted me to do? But I knew I would do it... somehow I knew I loved Elyssa, and she.... she loved me too... though I didn’t know why.

Just then Venetia and Yanik burst in, running over to my side. “Are you alright?” Venetia asked, anxiously. I could see the fear on her face, and I knew she had been worried about me. Yanik looked somewhat tense, too.

“I’m fine,” I said, surprising myself with the strange serenity of my voice.

“What did she do?” Yanik asked, urgently.

I looked at him, and suddenly I remembered all that had happened before... his lover being Elyssa... Elyssa!... and him dying, then being alive actually... staying here... and all my hurt resurfaced. I could tell he knew what I was thinking. His face fell.

“Who?” I asked, returning to his question, just as he murmured, “I’m sorry.”

“Sadista, of course.” Venetia replied, impatiently. “Who else?”

“Nothing,” I said. “Elyssa saved me.”

“Thank goodness,” Yanik breathed.

“We have to go,” Venetia said. “To the Garden of the Beginning of Time.”

I was surprised to see that she knew this, but I merely nodded. “Yes.”

“We’ll start packing – I’ll ask Safiya to bring you some food, and then you can start packing after you’ve rested enough.” Then she whisked out of the room, pulling Yanik behind her, though I could see him looking back at me once before he was pulled out of the room.

I settled back down in my bed, wondering where I really was. Maybe it was the wormhole after all. I sighed, kneading my forehead. I was faced with the impossibility of this alternate reality – how was I supposed to get all the stones, without telling anyone what I was going to do? And what about the Evil Stone? Then I remembered that the Evil Stone could be changed into good by wrenching it from Sadista’s mind. I sighed. So by ridding the White Stones by their power, the job was only half done. I wondered what the outcome of this would be... and whether it was worth it at all. I wondered whether this was a fairytale, and I was the heroine, about to perform all sorts of dangerous tasks and then win in the end. But how could I be so sure that this was going to be like that? It was all very well to be optimistic, as Venetia had informed me, but when you actually come down to it... maybe I was just a pessimist inside.

A soft knock was heard on the outside of the door. “Come in,” I called, and a young woman, probably in her twenties, entered, carrying a lunch tray heaped with delicious-looking food.

“Here, Satine,” She said, proffering the tray at me. “You must eat well before you leave.”

“Thank you,” I said, gratefully, taking the tray. “Are you Safiya?”

“Yes. This is my dwelling. My people prefer to live underground, maybe because the outside world holds so many troubles.” She smiled ruefully, winding her long hair up into a bun.

“I see,” I said, slowly, suddenly realising that I felt tired. “What day is it?”

“It was last night that Elyssa brought you here.” Safiya said, “Today it is Sunday. A holiday for me.... I hear you and the fiery girl, I believe her name is Venetia, and Yanik, are leaving soon.”

“Yes, I suppose we are,” I said, thinking about how I was going to accomplish my task with them around. They would never let me get on with what I wanted to do... well, maybe Yanik would. And what about Elyssa? There was something very strange going on here.... and I didn’t know what it was.

I settled back in bed, starting to eat some of the delicious looking macaroni and cheese doled out liberally on a fancily engraved platter.

“Who is Elyssa exactly?” I asked, looking at Safiya. Safiya turned and looked at me, surprised.

“She is the dream-weaver, of course.” Safiya said. Then a bell rang. “Oh, that must be Master Vind.” She sighed, making a face. “I’m sorry, but I must leave.” With that she disappeared, not giving me a chance to ask any more about Elyssa. Somehow I felt as if Elyssa was a very mysterious, shadowy person.... strangely alluring.... who was she anyway? She seemed to have a connection with everyone.... I felt as if I should know what a dream-weaver was, but I didn’t know... and yet I did know somewhere, proverbially, deep down inside me....

After lunch I looked around for the bathroom, and when I found it I gasped: I was so amazed. It was so large, and it spoke so clearly of affluence.... a huge bathtub that was the size of the swimming pool back in Bacchanal... with taps that looked oddly enough as if they were made of real silver, engraved with what looked like real diamonds... and so many different taps and condiments for bathing.... everything you ever needed. The toilet also looked oddly fancy, as if it didn’t belong in a cave. It seemed like I was in a palace, only this palace was far greater than anything I’d ever imagined before.

I soaked in the bathtub for ages, revelling in the atmosphere of richness and the sweet aroma of bubble bath.... until someone suddenly walked into the bathroom, that is. I hadn’t locked the door, for some unapparent reason, and so now Yanik stood framed in the doorway, caught. Luckily I was able to relax, because the bubble bath covered nearly my entire body, except my arms which were spread-eagled over the sides of the tub, and my head and neck.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Yanik said, “I’ll just go and...”

“No, it’s okay,” I said, looking at him with a little smile. “What did you want?”

“I.... wanted to talk to you.” Yanik said, suddenly looking more like the old Yank I remembered, the Yanik who wasn’t so elegant and fine and perfect.

“Do you remember when we first met?” I asked, suddenly, softly.

“Yes....” He began, but I continued, “You were with your girlfriend, Eli. And when we were introduced you kept staring and staring at me....” I smiled.

“Because you were – are – so beautiful, I thought you looked.... supernatural.” He walked over to the padded footstool by the tub, sitting down and taking my hand.

I smiled again. “I thought you were perfect, even though I was only eleven and going through a phase when I hated most boys.” His fingers traced patterns on the inside of my palm, trailing up my arm.... his touch felt at once beautiful and seductive.

“Oh, Satine.” His fingers stopped, and he was clasping my hand in his, caressing my fingers.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” I said, blinking, suddenly realising my eyes were beginning to fill up. “I loved you forever, you know.... I love you forever, but I thought you died..... and I swore I would never love again....” I looked at him. “But you were alive all this time.... and you didn’t try to find me.”

“Satine....” He looked lost. “It isn’t like that at all.... I wanted to come back so much. They all thought I’d drowned, but I was actually sucked into a trench, and then I seemed to go into a sort of coma. When I came to, I was in Sadista’s palace, as I told you, and Elyssa came and rescued me. But she barred me from going back.

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