Once we stepped into the cottage, the portal behind us collapsed with a sharp pop. Anara stilled, becoming limp in my arms. My chest tightened to an icy fear, but then relaxed as her slow breath warmed my neck. She was merely asleep.

Two barefoot young children, a boy and girl no older than seven years, laid on a soft blue rug under a floating light, peering over a book opened before them. At first, they gasped upon our sudden entry, but then the shocked expressions morphed into wide, toothy smiles as they spotted Adam.

"Father!" the girl joyously exclaimed as they both jumped up. Bounding, they flew into Adam's outstretched arms and he hugged the children against himself.

"How I missed you, my little ones." Adam said with a room brightening smile. Kneeling down, he ruffled the boy's dark, bushy hair. "Although, no longer should I call you little. My, how you both have grown. Soon shall you become fearsome giants."

"No, we won't," the boy chortled.

A woman with long dark hair wearing a simple blue-gray frock and a green crystal talisman appeared in the doorway, eyes widening as she took in a sharp breath.

"Mother," the little girl exclaimed. "Father came back!"

The woman rushed into Adam's arms, pressing her forehead into the crook of his neck. "Adam," she said in a soft, airy voice. "I feared we had lost you forever."

"And you might have, my love, if not for these three," Adam replied, sweeping an arm toward us. "This is my wife, Myra. But I must apologize, for I know not your names."

"I am Micah," I said, "and this is my mother, Dawn." I dipped my head down at the woman in my arms. "This is Anara. Our escape overcame her. May I lie her down somewhere?"

"Of course," Myra replied, pulling herself from Adam's arms. "Come, place her on my soft bed. I am a healer, and I shall attend to her."

Targon hopped to my side, tilting its head with an 'eep' as it scanned the inquisitive children. But when they reached for the little wyvern, Targon fluttered up to my shoulder and hissed at them. The children giggled in return.

In an adjoining bedroom, so small that the rough-wood post bed took up almost all the space, I gently placed Anara's body on a colorful quilt and brushed strands of long auburn hair from her face. Targon curled up beside her. But this differed from mere sleep, deeper and more distant, like a coma. A shadow crossed my heart. "What happened to her?"

"Spell exhaustion, I should think," Adam said. "So much powerful magic did she channel, the likes of which I had never seen."

"I know little of magic," I admitted. Then I turned narrowed eyes to my mother, and my voice took a cutting edge. "So many things I do not know."

Myra's green crystal pendant glowed and fine green threads of magic flowed from her extended hands, caressing Anara. "It is so. Deep is her fatigue. Any more and the magic may have consumed her very life. Dangerous actions she took."

"Can you help her?" I asked. A wave of guilt tightened in my chest. Had I, as the so-called Symbio Magique within me, facilitated this?

"Fear not. She shall recover with rest and time," Myra answered, to my relief. But then she furrowed her brow. "She has no talisman crystal?"

"No, the Council destroyed it."

"Then how---" Myra cutoff her words as Adam shook his head, yet still, the question remained in her eyes.

"What be this?" she said as the green threads probed further, weaving around Anara. Gasping, Myra withdrew her magic and then pried back the mask the covered half of Anara's face. "The Stone Curse infects her!"

My mother's eyes widened, and she put a hand to her mouth, reinforcing my fears.

"You say you are a healer, Myra. Can't you heal her?"

Myra shook her head. "I dare not. Insidious this curse — it feeds on magic and anything I might do would strengthen it." She turned sympathetic eyes up to me. "I am sorry, Micah, but nothing can be done."

*****

Adam prepared us a delicious meal in what looked like a traditional domed clay oven outside. Since my mother was a baker by trade, back on Earth anyway, she helped prepare a chewy flatbread.

While Adam cleaned up and Myra attended to her children, I ventured outside into the evening darkness and sat on a flat-top boulder, one of several arranged in a semi-circle around a rock-lined fire pit. A small orange hued moon hung near the horizon, opposite of the fading twilight. But as I craned my neck to look straight up, my breath halted. Not from something I saw, but rather, from nothing, only pitch darkness.

As my mother joined me, taking the boulder to my right, I asked, "Where are the stars?"

"None were made here," she answered.

"So, exactly what is 'here'?"

She took a deep breath and leaned over, placing elbows on knees. "The old witching stories were fanciful, to be sure, but the persecution was very real. People fear what they don't understand. Over a thousand years ago, the Covens came together and created the Elysium Realm as a refuge, a haven for magic bearers. It took a hundred years of complicated spells and reality bending magic to create this world."

"Sort of like a pocket universe? Or a parallel reality?" Modern cosmology theorized their existence.

"Perhaps, but an artificial one. All those magic-born were invited, and most came. Then they constructed the barrier to seal off the worlds."

"But you came here," I countered. "And so did I."

"No matter how strong the fence, there are always means to pass through. So it is with magic — no spell is perfect."

"Anara mentioned that the barrier sometimes weakens."

Mom turned her head to me, and even in the growing darkness, her eyes searched mine. "You care for her." It was a statement, not a question — I've never been able to hide emotions from her.

"Yeah. I suppose I do," I responded, nodding. "She had been in my dreams back home long before she created the portal that brought me here."

"So, it was her!" Mom snarled as she jumped up. "She created this mess!"

My mouth opened, but I didn't know what to say. My mother's anger was justified. Anara essentially kidnapped me and started a dangerous chain of events, but I could not condemn her. When I finally spoke, my voice took more of a sharp edge than I intended. "What had you kept from me, Mom?"

"What I hoped would never be said." She sat and placed fingers on her bowed forehead. "When you were young, barely two, I took you away from Elysium. I never expected to come back."

"So, I was born here."

"Yes."

"Who was my father?"

Mom let out a long breath. "I didn't know his name. My family selected him for me."

That hit hard. I stood up, turning my back. "Oh, my God, a breeder male."

Coming closer, Mom put a hand on my shoulder. "Micah, you must understand. That is the way of things here. I was barely eighteen when I gave birth to you, and I knew nothing better. You were the result of a generations long selective breeding program meant to return our family to power. Only something went wrong — you were born male, rather than female, despite the spells."

I huffed. "That seems to matter in this world."

"Yes. Even more so than on Earth." Mom sat down again. "But there is hope. Not everyone here is so misandric — Adam and Myra, for instance. In prison, Adam told me there are those like him who seek free expression and equal rights."

"Why were you in prison?" I asked.

"For coming back," she answered. "There is something else you should know. Our ancestry traces back to Cephas Carne, the villain who originally cast the Stone Curse. And that, along with my Coven's quest for power, drew the Council's attention. They wiped out most of my Coven, but in the end, I reached an agreement, sealed by blood oath. To save our lives, I agreed to exile to Earth and to never use magic again, and they agreed to leave us alone."

"So, you thought the Council had broken the agreement. That's why you came back here."

"Exactly. But all along, it was Anara." She shook her head. "By the Council's reasoning, I broke the oath, and for that, I was to be executed, but then Anara and you rescued me. You see, by her actions, she both placed me in danger and then saved me from it. So, I don't know how to regard her."

I grinned. "That seems to be her way."

"But there's something I do not understand. Both Anara and I channeled magic without our crystal talismans. That shouldn't be possible."

"That was my doing," I replied. "Anara called me the Symbio Magique, and somehow, she had known long before I did. Was that the goal of the breeding program?"

"I don't care, Micah." She rose and embraced me. "To me, you are my son, and I loved you from the very beginning."

Her warmth flowed through me as I returned the embrace. "I made my own agreement with Anara," I said. "In return for finding you, I agreed to help her end the Stone Curse."

"Then that's what we should do."

*****

Morning sunlight streaming through tattered curtains woke me. Despite sleeping on a thin mat in the living room, I slept well. Mom took the narrow couch beside me. With a series of eeps, Targon bounded through the room, part hopping and part fluttering. In dogged pursuit, the children squealed as they chased after the little beast. As I sat up, Targon leaped up on my shoulder, lashing me with a swinging tail, and hissed at them.

"Children!" Myra snapped, waving a dishcloth. "Leave the poor wyvern alone. Go outside and help your father." After her narrowed eyes followed the young one's dejected departure, she let out a sigh. "Please forgive my children. Sometimes they act like--"

"Like children. Yes, I know," my mom replied. "But how can we fault them for that? Micah used to torment our cat when he was little."

I rolled my eyes. "Mom..."

Targon on my shoulder, I tiptoed to the bedroom. The door creaked as I peeked inside. On the bed, an eye flickered opened, and a bright smile warmed me like the morning sun. Targon fluttered to the bed as I stepped inside. "Hi," I said.

"Hi," Anara replied as she sat up and scratched the wyvern behind its ears. "How long did I slumber?"

"All evening and through the night. How do you feel?"

"Still am I weak, but better," Anara replied, stretching, then her smile faded. "Did everyone make it?"

"Yes. Thanks to you."

"No, Micah. Not just me, but us."

Later, as we gathered for a breakfast of pancakes and pureed fruit, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder around a small wooden table, our hosts invited us to join hands. Adam, Myra, and the children spoke in unison, saying a simple thanksgiving prayer to a loving Creator. That surprised me, especially since corrupted religion leaders spearheaded the witch persecutions long ago on Earth.

Mom wore borrowed clothes, a simple long brown sheath dress similar to Anara's, although cinched in with a tied green fabric belt since it was a bit too large for her. At least this will not stick out as much as her previous bright orange prison garb.

As the last pancake disappeared, a knock on the front door made me jerk. Adam rose and said, "Do not be alarmed. They wish to speak with you, Micah. I hope you do not mind."

Adam ushered in three visitors to the living room, two women and a man. They all wore ornate gold and red robes, like clergy vestments. One short woman with long gray hair also wore a thin white scarf draped over her shoulders.

After they dipped heads together, the gray-haired woman spoke. "Forgive our intrusion, but there are matters of great importance we must discuss."

Anara sat upright on the couch beside me in rapt reception, but I was more suspicious. "Okay, shall we start with introductions?"

"Of course," the woman replied. "I am called Ferina, and with me are Ursa and Kaine." They each bowed in turn. "We represent the Circulus Libertus, an organization dedicated to freedom for all. We count Myra and Adam among our number."

"I see," I replied. "We are--"

"Ah, but we know of you, Anara of the Starfall Coven; Dawn of the former Spirit Ember Coven, sadly destroyed by the Council; and Micah from Kansas. Quite an impression you made before the Council, and then with your escape. I should think by now, well known are you across the entire Elysium Realm."

I gulped. Not the kind of fame I wanted. "What do you wish of us?"

"We wish to aid your endeavor. True is it that you seek to end the Curse of Stone?"

"It is so," Anara piped up. "But the Council would not support us."

"Unlikely that they would, such is their corruption. Long ago had they given up on remediation, rather content to allow the curse's slow spread. But it is not merely the fruit of negligence, but something sinister. They wish the curse to consume Elysium."

As my jaw dropped, Anara blurted out. "Why? Why would they wish that?"

"Twofold," Ferina answered, holding up two fingers. "First, it consolidates their authoritative rule by focusing the people's fear elsewhere." She turned to my mother. "Dawn, you know of this. And second, they ultimately seek a return to the Earth Realm as conquerors, to mete out vengeance for age old crimes against witches. The Curse of Stone would eventually force this path out of desperation. For generations, the Council has bent their membership toward this goal."

"Thus," my mother remarked, "if we ended the curse, it might thwart their plans."

"Precisely." Ferina turned to me and the weight of expectations fell on my shoulders. "And you, Micah from Kansas, if truly you be the Symbio Magique, then a long-awaited opportunity to end the Curse of Stone has come. It feeds on magic, but the Symbio bears the anti-magic. Loath would we be to ignore this chance. Would you try?"

I gulped again as my chest tightened. No pressure there.

"Yes!" Anara exclaimed, jumping up. "So we shall."

She grasped my hand, but I hardly felt it. An ominous sensation swept through my mind and sent shivers down my spine and set my nerves on edge, like the cool shifting winds and static charge of an approaching super-cell storm. But this was... magical. The Symbio flame burst from its confines within me, flaring, warning.

"Micah?" Anara muttered, her eye growing wide.

"Something comes," I said in an airy voice. "I sense it. Something malevolent."