Slurp.

Something wet traced my cheek. In the margin between dreams and wakefulness, light filtered through my eyelids and a fresh, earthy scent filled my nose. The prickling on my left cheek didn't feel like my pillow.

Of all the weird dreams, this one took the prize — the voice, the dazzling light, the vertigo, free-falling through a swirling purple tunnel. Like an amusement park ride malfunction.

Slurp. "Eep."

My eyes flickered open. Perched beside me, a lizard-like creature peered into my right eye, turning its head and chirping a high-pitched "Eep".

Slurp.

The creature's slimy forked tongue flicked my chin while it's open mouth revealed rows of sharp black teeth. Startled, I jumped up and crab-walked backwards away from it. "What the hell?"

My forehead furrowed. This wasn't a normal creature, rather like a small winged dragon, about the size of a house cat, and covered with mottled gray-white fur. It bounced closer on hind legs, whipping a long tail, and regarded me with a tilted head, hopefully more curious than hungry.

I sat on the soft ground of a meadow among tall blue-green grass and yellow star-shaped flowers, all swaying in a gentle breeze. The meadow sloped down to a meandering clear stream lined with marsh plants and willows. Tiny ripples sparkled in the sunlight. Further in the distance, tall sprawling trees marked the meadow's edge.

As if that wasn't strange enough, between puffy clouds, not one, but two suns cast warm light. The larger one shone brightly yellow while the smaller produced a dimmer reddish hue, hovering together like mother and child. I almost expected to find a yellow-brick road, because I definitely wasn't in Kansas anymore. And this was no dream.

In the distance, toward the stream, a sweet song lifted above the wind.

I jerked as the little creature hopped into my lap, slurped my chin again, then curled up. A gentle purr rumbled from its throat, much like a contented kitten, but deeper pitch.

Stroking its plush fur, I whispered, "You're not so ferocious, are you little dragon?"

"She seems to like you." I jerked at the unexpected female voice behind me, while the little dragon perked up. "Else a bite be gone from you."

"I hope that is a good omen," I responded.

Still seated, I swiveled, scanning the young woman as she climbed the slope from the stream. Mud and water stained the bottom of a long brown dress. The full hood of a green cloak obscured her face in shadow. Foraged tubers and rush bundles filled the wicker basket she carried with one hand, while with the other hand, she steadied herself on a crooked wooden cane.

At her whistle, the creature jumped up and hopped toward her with leathery wings extended. The woman tossed a morsel of dried meat, which the creature deftly snatched out of the air, then settled at her feet for a satisfied chew.

As I stood up, brushing dirt from my bargain store cargo pants and green t-shirt, she turned to me and froze, dropping her basket. "You have come," she gasped.

"Do I know you?" I asked, wrinkling my forehead.

The woman reached up to slide back her hood. One widened violet right eye gazed back at me, the left one covered with a leather mask held in place with a forehead strap. A strip of blue held back her long auburn hair in a frazzled ponytail. I froze, and my eyes widened. It was her — the woman who haunted my dreams.

"Definitely not in Kansas," I muttered.

Lifting an eyebrow, the woman asked. "Where is Kansas?"

"Where I'm from. You know, somewhere over the rainbow?" Tempting was it to click my heels three times and say there's no place like home, but I decided against it. I wondered if they had witches here.

"A magical place, then?" she asked.

"Most don't think so, but it is home. I live with my mom, but once I have my physics degree and get a good-paying tech job, I hope to get my own place."

She wrinkled her brow. "You speak of strange things. But I also live with my mother. Come on then," she said with a head nod toward the trees, "and I will introduce you."

As we descended along the winding path, I couldn't help but notice how much she limped along, leaning heavily against her cane. I came up beside her and reached toward the basket. "May I carry this for you?"

With a weak smile, she handed it over. "You are kind. What is your name, sir?"

"Micah."

"Pleased to meet you, Micah from Kansas. I am Anara, daughter of Agnes, of the Starfall Coven."

Oh, so there were witches here.

I bowed my head. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Anara. If I may ask, and this might seem an odd question, but where am I?"

"Not so odd, I suppose, for someone from Kansas, over the rainbow. You are in the Dewlands of Elysium Realm. Not far ahead lies my fair village of Lockfeld."

The afternoon had turned quite warm and humid, so I was thankful when we entered the cool forest. The trees were truly massive, bigger than anything back home. They seemed like ancient oaks with deep furrowed bark and sprawling gnarled branches, but the triangle-shaped emerald leaves that fluttered in the gentle breeze differed. A pair of bright orange birds fluttered at our approach, taunting us with 'kree-kree' calls.

The little flying lizard-like beast swooped down and landed deftly on Anara's shoulder, wrapping its tail over her neck to steady itself. Anara reached up and scratched the creature behind its pointed ears.

"What sort of creature is that?" I asked.

"A wyvern," she responded. "Do you not have these in Kansas?"

"Not at all. This one seems fond of you."

"We bonded after she hatched. Her name is Targon."

Reaching up, I stroked Targon's soft fur, earning a satisfied rumble from it and a warm smile from Anara. Apparently, I passed the wyvern test.

Ahead, a strange vine wrapped itself around a tree trunk. Blue specked leaves slowly twirled, their tips curling in as if beckoning. But as I reached out to touch, Anara pulled my hand back.

"Best not," she warned. Reaching down, she picked up a small branch and touched the leaves with it. The vine snatched — twirling tendrils grabbed the branch, and the leaves pressed themselves against it. "Most uncomfortable is its venom."

I gulped. Even Elysium had its dangers.

Leaving the forest, we entered another meadow where the trickling creek emptied into a long lake. Children splashed in the clear water, no doubt refreshing in the sultry afternoon. But Anara, nearly fully covered with a long skirt and long-sleeve hooded cloak, seemed to take the heat in stride.

Adults, mostly women and some men, meandered through adobe domed huts arranged in expanding circles around a central plaza. Behind each hut stood garden plots filled with greenery and pens corralling noisy animals. The people wore comfortable loose fitting clothing in muted colors, made of what looked like natural fibers. Some walked barefoot. It all seemed so idyllic.

"Lockfeld," Anara said, extending her arm with a smile.

As she did, a purple teardrop crystal pendant spilled out of her cloak. Others in the village also wore similar jewels of various colors, but only the women, not the men.

"The crystal," I asked, "what is it?"

"My Talisman Crystal." Anara extended her hands, turning them. The crystal glowed as shimmering purple streamers appeared, swirling and twirling into a ball. "It allows me to channel the magic and focus it. It is a witch's most valuable possession. Do you have such in Kansas?"

"I don't think so," I answered, maybe lying. A queazy twinge rose in my gut. My mother had a crystal like that. What hadn't she told me?

Suspicious eyes regarded me as we wandered through the village, but no one said anything. Finally, we stopped before a cottage.

"My home," Anara said with a smile.

A stone path meandered through a gravel bed brightened with scattered yellow poppy-like flowers, leading to a round-topped wooden door. Based on the inset of two tall windows on either side, the reddish rock walls were quite thick. Yet, I could not discern any seams, as if the house had been cast as one piece. The hinges groaned as Anara opened the door. Targon leaped from her shoulder, preceding us inside.

"Mother, I'm home. And I brought someone," she announced as we passed the threshold.

No answer came. "She must be tending the garden," Anara explained.

The cottage inside was simply furnished — warm, unassuming, and inviting, much like Anara herself. A padded seating bench lined the front windows and curved wall, facing two comfy-looking chairs. Targon had curled up within a cushioned basket beside a small wooden bookcase overflowing with old-looking books. Colorful artistic tapestries hung on the walls, added a touch of brightness. A rounded passage led to a kitchen and dining room, and opposite that, closed doors lined a short hallway. A double-sided fireplace, dark with soot, opened to the living room and kitchen.

The things missing here were anything I might have called technology — no phones, televisions, computers, or electronics of any sort — nor were there any lamps, save for decorative candle lanterns attached to the wall. That was actually refreshing, in a way. Also, considering the heat outside, it was surprisingly cool and comfortable within.

I put down the basket as Anara removed her cloak and hung it on a hook by the door. Underneath, a simple, dark tank top covered her lithe frame. A dark, stretchy tube, like a long sock, wrapped most of her left arm. I was curious what it and her half-mask concealed, but did not want to pry.

"Are you hungry, Micah?" she asked. "I made a fresh pot of stew this morning."

"That sounds wonderful."

After bidding me to be seated, Anara placed pottery bowls, pewter mugs, and spoons on the wooden dining table. From a pitcher, she poured a fruity smelling liquid in the mugs. "The cider is good this season," she explained. It was.

The kitchen was as simply appointed as the living room. A shiny granite-like counter lined one side beneath three small windows that looked out toward a garden. To one side stood a free-standing sink beside open cabinets containing various cookware, and to the other, a well-stocked pantry. But there were no appliances of any kind — no stove, no refrigerator, no microwave.

Anara placed a black metal pot on a square ceramic plate at the table center. Extending a hand, purple streamers of magic rolled out from her fingers and surrounded the pot. In no time, wisps of steam rose from it. Who needed a microwave when you had magic? She ladled generous portions into the bowls.

"Oh, this is really good," I said after my second spoonful of what tasted like a classic beef-barley-vegetable stew, although I couldn't place all the ingredients. She rewarded my compliment with a warm smile.

A grind of hinges caught my attention. From a small vestibule that led to the backyard, a spindly gray-haired woman emerged wearing a soiled apron. A red crystal pendant swung from her neck.

The woman drew her eyes to slits. "Where have you been, Anara?" she spat. "Alone was I to weed the garden, and the geese escaped again. Have you no consideration?"

"Must you do this now, Mother?" Anara shot back. "We have a guest."

I flinched as the narrowed eyes turned to me. "Who are you?" she asked.

Anara answered for me. "This is Micah from Kansas."

As I stood, the woman asked, "Where in Hades is Kansas?"

I opened my mouth to answer, but Anara spoke first. "Somewhere over the rainbow."

"That makes no sense."

"That is just a lyrical saying," I clarified. "Kansas is not of this world. Pleased to meet you, ma'am." I bowed my head.

The woman's eyes blazed with rage. "What have you done, daughter? Less sense do you have than even your grandmother. Continually, do you disappoint me."

Anara jerked back and dropped her jaw. The verbal venom even stung me. Definitely some unresolved mother-daughter issues here.

"Mother, I know he can help--" Anara pleaded.

The verbal onslaught continued. "The Council will surely divine the barrier breach. Would you bring their wrath upon us?" She pointed a bent finger at me. "First you bring the curse against yourself and now you bring this wretched human among us?"

Wait, what?

"You are hideous, daughter, and I wish nothing more to do with you!" The woman ripped off her apron and flung it to the floor, then stomped out the back door, slamming it behind her.

Anara bowed her head and wiped moisture from her eye. "I am sorry, Micah, that you--"

I interrupted her, allowing hot anger to spill out. "You brought me here?" I nearly shouted. "Did you not think to ask before ripping me from my world?"

Anara cowered, wrapping arms around herself. "I'm sorry--"

My fists clenched as my anger bordered on rage. "And what of my mother? Did you take her as well?"

A moist eye turned up to mine. "I know not of your mother. I swear." She turned and hobbled out of the kitchen as her tears overflowed. "I'm sorry, Micah. I'm so sorry."

Putrid guilt swilled up from my gut. What have I done? Leaning against the table, I rebuked myself, muttering, "Smooth, Micah. Real smooth."

My mother had taught me to speak kindly and to withhold judgment until I got all the facts, yet I did neither. Earlier in the dreams, I had sensed an innocent, caring heart in her, one that would never mean harm. Yet, Anara did bring me here without my permission.

As I tip-toed across the living room, Targon, from its basket, raised the scaly spines behind its head and hissed at me.

"I know," I said with a sigh. "I'm going to apologize."

Muted sobbing directed me to her bedroom door, opened just a crack. I tapped on the door and said in a gentle voice, "Anara? I'm sorry. May I come in and talk?"

"Yes," came a weak reply.

Anara laid on her side on the narrow bed, knees drawn up with tears tracing one cheek. I pulled a whicker-seat chair from under a small wooden desk and sat, bending over with elbows on my knees.

"I'm sorry, Anara. I let anger overwhelm me."

"Mother is right. I am hideous."

"I do not find you so."

"Be you so sure?" Anara sat upright and loosened the leather mask that covered half her face, pulling it away. She did the same thing with her arm sleeve.

I suppressed a gasp. The left side of her face, and much of her left arm, appeared to be rough gray stone with jagged brown veins. A milky brownish glaze covered the blinded eye. At once, my heart went out to her.

"I am truly cursed," she lamented. The right side of her face sagged, while the left side held rigid.

"Anara," I said in a soft voice, "I would not minimize what you suffer. But in the dreams I had of you, I peered into the depths of your heart and soul. What I saw was beautiful, and that is what truly matters."

She sniffed. "Your words are kind. Thank you. I would send you home again, but I cannot until the barrier between our worlds weakens again."

"Why did you bring me here?"

"To save my world... and to save me." Anara's eye pleaded. "A curse plagues Elysium — the Stone Curse — and the Council does nothing about it. Eventually, it will consume my world, then I fear it will cross the barrier to consume yours. I sensed in you the Symbio Magique."

I furrowed my brow. "The Symbio Magique?"

"One who enhances magic, amplifies it. A rare gift. It was that which allowed me to bring you through the barrier." She took a deep breath. "I had hoped that we together might stop the curse."

A connection occurred to me. "My mother," I said, "She told me there were signs of a spell, then she disappeared." I pointed. "Your Talisman Crystal — she had one just like it, only it was yellow."

Anara sucked in a breath and her eye widened. "Could she be magic born, yet live in your world?"

I shrugged. "I do not know. But she seemed to know magic was at work."

"If she crossed the barrier on her own, then she must be very powerful."

My eyes lifted to her eye. "If you help me find my mother, then I will help you end the Stone Curse."