I've never been in trouble with the law, not even a parking ticket. On Earth. But here on Elysium, I'm like criminal number one, or maybe number two, behind Anara. Anyway, we probably had the top two spots locked up. And locked up, we were.

Yay us...

I could not fault Anara, since her naivete was born of innocence. Despite the hardships, she had a refreshingly pure and selfless heart — truly a woman without guile.

Targon squeezed between the bars that separated Anara and me, then settled into my lap, purring as I scratched behind its ears. At least this little critter still believed in us.

After seeing how I ripped apart magic, the guards tossed us into the jail non-enchantment section, where only old-fashioned iron bars confined us. Effective enough.

The furnishings comprised a stone platform covered with a dusty mat and a musty brown blanket along the back wall, and a rusty bucket for sanitation. Also considering the bland food, they won't get a five-star review from me.

When Targon perked up to chase a mouse, I rose from my mat. Clutching the bars, I spoke in a gentle voice, "Anara, may we talk?" She laid curled up on her platform, facing away, inconsolable for an undeterminable number of hours.

"I have ruined everything," she replied in a faint voice. "You must despise me."

"I could never despise you. Well, I mean, we could have handled that better, but this outcome was unavoidable."

"I just--" A single sob interrupted her words. "I just wanted to make the world better. To end the curse. The Council does nothing."

"Well, in my experience, government leaders are best at maintaining the status quo. They don't like to take chances that might threaten their high status."

She turned a moist eye to me. "You are wiser than I, Micah. And here I had taken you from your home and placed you within my turmoil. I am sorry."

For all she suffered and her bleak future, still she was most worried about me. I pushed a hand through the bars. "Anara, would you come here?"

With a nod, she limped toward me. I extended my arms to hug her around the waist, as best I could through the bars. Anara grasped the bars and pressed forward, touching her forehead against my shoulder. "We will find a way," I whispered.

"You are kinder than I deserve, Micah," she whispered in return.

After breaking the embrace, we both slid down to the floor, sitting back-to-back, separated by only the iron bars. Targon hopped into her lap and curled up.

"Tell me of your mother, Micah," Anara said. "You seem quite fond of her."

I took a deep breath as conflicting emotions rose in my mind — warmth of memory and chilled fear of the future. "Dawn is her name, like the rising sun. She raised me, and everything good in me came from her. I am ashamed to say that I did not always appreciate this."

"Once long ago, my mother was such, but bitterness came with age. Sure are you that your mother came here?"

"Yes. She recognized signs of your spell, and told me to wait until she fixed it, then disappeared with her yellow crystal. The Reverent confirmed it."

From the darkness across the central corridor, a gravelly male voice made us both jump. "I know of this woman."

"Who speaks?" I challenged, turning to the voice.

"My name is Adam." A tall, lean man with gray-streaked hair and beard, wearing tattered clothes, came to his cell bars. "Only yesterday, the woman you called Dawn stayed in your very cell. Then they took her to the Citadel, or so the guard said. She spoke warmly of you, Micah."

"I know of the Citadel," Anara said. "It is a prison and military training center not far from here."

Sighing, I lamented, "But we are confined here. Are you sure you cannot use your magic to get us out?"

"If only so. Without my talisman, I cannot direct the magic anymore than you could direct the winds." Anara swirled her hands as if to cast a spell. She gasped and her eye widened as strands of glowing purple burst from her hand, winding into a glistening ball.

"Then what is that?"

"It should not be possible... No witch may cast magic without a talisman." The glimmering ball grew, casting a violet hue across the cell. "Yet, I am able." She turned to me and a smile brightened her face. "You, Micah! It is you! Truly, are you the Symbio Magique, and now you are also my talisman."

Under Anara's direction, the purple ball flattened, and she pressed it against the iron bars. The gaps between the bars expanded, and space warped around them in odd shimmering curvatures. Picking up her cane, she stepped between the bars, then repeated the process for me. I watched in stunned awe.

Now in the corridor, Anara examined her hands as the magic spun inward, covering them like purple gloves. "So amazing! Never have I been so powerful. Before, such a space bending spell would have required hours of focus."

"Can you take us to this Citadel?" I asked.

"Take me with you," Adam pleaded, leaning against the bars. "I know the Citadel from time spent there. Let me guide you in exchange for freedom."

Suspicion clouded my thoughts. "What were your crimes, Adam?"

"Sedition," he replied. "I campaigned for the rights of men and a just society — much too loudly to the Council's liking."

"Very well," I said, nodding to Anara. Again, she warped space, expanding the bar gaps, and Adam joined us.

"Now," Anara said, turning to Adam. "Imagine our destination, and I shall take it from your mind."

Nodding, Adam closed his eyes and Anara placed fingertips on his forehead. Then she moved her other hand in a circle, forming an expanding flat purple ring, just like the portal that originally brought us from her home. The destination shimmered into view — a darkened room that contained several large tubs and stacked clothing.

"The prison laundry room," Adam explained. "This time of day, it would be vacant."

With a whistle from Anara, Targon fluttered onto her shoulder. And with an 'eep' from the little wyvern, we stepped through the portal.

*****

The laundry room smelled musty and humid with a soapy overtone. A chill traced my spine as I realized we came here with not a hint of a rescue plan.

"Where would my mother be?" I asked Adam.

"Not far. Somewhere up one level in the red section with the higher profile prisoners. But we will have to pass two checkpoints."

I turned to Anara and asked, "Can you take us there with another portal?"

"No," she answered, shaking her head. "Not without a clear vision of the destination."

"So then, how do we get her out without too much attention? Jailers tend to resist that sort of thing."

A grin came to Anara's face. "We move quickly, or rather, between time." A shimmering violet orb formed between her outstretched hand, and as she spread her hands, expanded around us like a bubble. "Minutes shall pass for us within, while only a second to those without."

"So, local time dilation?" I asked with great interest. "Do you bend the laws of special relativity?"

"I know not of what you speak," she replied, tilting her head.

"Perhaps another time," I said. "So, we may get in and out before anyone else notices?" Anara nodded. "Okay, let's go."

Things outside of the bubble appeared colored and blurry, as if we peered through a purple water film. But true to her word, outside time passed at a glacial pace relative to us. If I ever figured out the science of her magic, I would become the greatest theoretical physicist on Earth.

In tight formation within the bubble, we climbed a worn stone staircase and paced down corridors brightly lit by floating orbs of light, passing offices and meeting rooms. The green uniformed guards and workers, mostly male, seemed frozen in motion as if figures in a giant diorama. Feet hovered in mid-step, and water dripping from a wet mop halted, drops suspended mid-air. To them, we must have been an imperceptible streak. It was an odd experience, but most unnerving was the absolute silence, which made sense, because sound was also a motion.

So easily did we pass the first checkpoint, which included a bored guard at a small metal desk and an open iron-bar gate. But the second, leading to the prison cells, was locked. Carefully, Anara extended the bubble around a skeleton key hanging on a belt loop without disturbing the guard that wore it. Adam snatched up the key and inserted it into the lock, swung the gate open enough for us to pass, then closed and relocked it behind us, retaining the key.

Ahead, down a narrow corridor were two dozen narrow cells, twelve to a side. But instead of iron bars, shimmering screens blocked the round entrances, presumably some sort of magic shields. My heart pounded in anticipation as we peered into each cell, one-by-one, until it soared at the next to last one. My mother laid on a platform bed wearing slippers and an ill-fitting orange dress, eyes cast upward while her long brown hair spilled across the narrow bed.

"Mom!" I called out.

"She will not yet hear you." Anara explained.

Anara pressed forward against the shield, but it did not yield, the purple time bubble merely deforming against it, producing sizzling sparks at the interface. Pushing again produced the same result.

"The shield... I cannot get past," she said in an airy voice.

Turning to her, I noticed the sweat on her brow, a paled face, and rapid breath. "Anara, are you alright?" I asked. Targon whimpered on her shoulder.

"I weaken," she replied, trembling as I supported her. "I cannot hold the magic much longer."

This was the absolute worst place for her magic to fail. My entire body tensed as a tingling fight-or-flight response took hold of my body.

Time for something desperate.

"Anara," I said in an even voice, despite my inner conflict. "Drop your magic and save enough for a portal." Adam cast me a wary glare and Anara's mouth opened. But before an uttered protest, I said, "Trust me."

"Very well." Nodding, Anara closed her eyes and the shimmering bubble dissolved away. The guard behind the gate jumped up with a grunt and poked at his belt, but found no key. By luck or intent, Adam's previous action, taking the key, bought us a few extra moments now. The guard shouted out, summoning others.

My mother turned her head and jumped up, her eyes widening. "Micah? Is it really you?"

"Hold on, Mom," I responded.

When I touched the magic shield, it rebelled, churning and lashing out with silvery arcs. I yelped as my entire arm erupted in burning pain, and I withdrew. More shouts erupted from behind the gate.

"They found another key," Adam warned. "What you had planned — do it soon."

Now or never. I steeled my resolve and willed the flame within me to rise, then rushed the shield, opening my arms as if to grapple it with a wrestling takedown move. Burning pain. Crackles and deafening buzz. Energetic cracks raced across the surface, and then it shattered like plate glass, forming countless glowing shards that evaporated away. A sharp clap echoed through the corridor.

As I staggered back, my mother rushed in to embrace me. "Mom, I can't breathe..." I said in a gasping voice as she squeezed tightly.

"You shouldn't have come," she whispered. "But I am glad you did."

At the end of the corridor, the gate lock clunked, and the hinges groaned.

"Time we left this place," Adam said. Then he turned to Anara. "I know a safe place. Take it from my mind."

Anara nodded, then closed her eyes. With a hand swirl, a purple ring formed, but then promptly disappeared with a pop. Again, she tried, but to the same result. She wavered on her feet, staggering backwards as I caught her, wrapping an arm around her waist for support. "I am so weak..." she said in a faltering voice.

"Haste!" Adam asserted as the shouts and footfalls grew near.

Instinctively, my mother thrust a palm out toward the rushing guards. A shimmering pressure pulse shot out, pushing the guards backwards, tumbling them like bowling pins. Her jaw dropped as she examined her hand, muttering, "How?"

I understood the basis of her disbelief — she had not her yellow crystal talisman, and like Anara, must have tapped the power conduit inside me. "I'll explain later," I said.

Anara slumped in my arms, her eyes focused distantly. The flame still burned within me. "Use me, Anara. Draw from the Symbio Magique."

With a weak smile, she moved an arm in a jerky circle. A portal ring appeared, small and faint at first, but then it grew and crackled. An image flickered into view within it — the peaceful interior of a small cottage.

"My safe house," Adam explained.

"Let's go," I said as I lifted Anara into my arms, drawing her to my chest as she trembled.

We entered the portal, with Targon fluttering through behind us just before the ring collapsed.