King Albert’s coronation did not have trumpets sounding or cheering crowds. It was one of duty, not of heroism, and the people had not forgotten so quickly that King Allard had died suddenly instead of willingly stepping down from power. Albert placed the crown on his own head, not having his father to do the deed, feeling more like a conqueror than an heir. There were whispers of conspiracy, rumors that King Albert himself had caused his father’s demise, but the red knight saw to it that those rumors were silenced. He dragged a bunyip corpse into the open for all to see, proclaiming that if the public wanted something to hate, these are the creatures they should direct that hate towards.

Salina’s cold stare fell upon him and King Albert ushered him away, though Albert did thank the red knight for his loyalty and good intentions once they were both out of the public’s earshot.

“The nerve of these people,” grumbled the red knight.

“They didn’t see what happened,” said Jasmine.

The red knight stared at the floor with crossed arms, only moving out of his rigid posture when King Albert and Queen Salina both sat on their thrones, hands joined together. The crowd knelt, and Jasmine and the red knight with them. Enkaiein did not participate in the ceremony but the dragons were there, bowing their heads to acknowledge Albreton’s new rulers.

King Albert made an agreement with the dragons publicly after his coronation, calling attention to it for all to see. Their kingdoms were allies now, and more importantly, regarded each other as friends.

“Any citizen of Albreton is assured safe travels and welcomed in our land,” said Kurventhor.

“And we shall roam both kingdoms freely,” Ellindris added in her booming dragon’s voice, “To defend both territories from strife. Albreton will not fall prey to any threat, foreign or otherwise, as long as we fly in these skies.”

And then, there was cheering. It was King Albert’s first political act, and one that was supported by nearly every denizen of Albreton.

Jasmine hung around for a while, until the repairs on the Hall of Truth were complete. Once the ceiling was fixed, she and Salina sealed off the Veins with their fastitocalon scales and the image of a clear, impenetrable wall that manifested itself in a film over the blue mahogany vines that housed the Veins along with the opening in the center of the floor where they sprouted. They barely protested, only poking curiously at the new boundary as if to determine whether or not it was really there.

But soon it came time for Jasmine to say her farewells and she hesitated, lingering near the entrance to the throne room like a child who didn’t want to fess up to eating all the cookies. Enkaiein came up behind her.

“Having second thoughts?”

“No.” Jasmine sighed, “Well, yes.”

Enkaiein approached the throne, clopping his hooves heavily enough to attract King Albert and Salina’s attention. Jasmine inhaled and stepped into the room after him.

“Hello, Enkaiein,” said Salina.

Enkaiein shuffled out of the way so Jasmine could be in full view. She bit her thumbnail, realized she was doing it, and then put her hand behind her back.

“Jasmine,” said King Albert with concern, “You look distraught.”

“I guess I do, don’t I?”

Albert stepped off his throne. “What’s wrong? Are you ill?” Jasmine felt Salina scrutinizing her now as well, the Queen’s eyebrows shoved together to crease her forehead.

“Nothing like that,” said Jasmine. “I’m here to tell you I’m leaving. I have to go back to my world. I’ve been putting it off for a while.”

“I see,” King Albert’s shoulder’s sagged.

“Stop that,” said Jasmine. “If you pout at me, the goodbyes will be even harder.”

Albert tried not to look so disappointed but it didn’t work at all. Jasmine’s heart throbbed. She was about to tell him never mind, about to say she didn’t really mean it, when Salina came down from her throne.

“Will you visit?” Salina asked with a tiny smile.

“I don’t know if I can,” said Jasmine. Really, she didn’t even know how she was getting home in the first place, let alone how she might go about coming back.

Out of nowhere, Albert hugged her. Jasmine didn’t know what to do then, so she just accepted it, patting him awkwardly on the back, eyeing Salina to see if this was really okay. Judging by Salina’s kind expression, it was.

“You are always welcome here,” said King Albert, letting go. He stared into her eyes to make sure she knew he meant it, “Thank you for everything, Jasmine.”

“You’re welcome,” Jasmine said, her voice sounding squirrelly.

“If you insist on leaving,” said Salina, “Then I insist you stay for dinner.”

“That an order from the Queen?” Jasmine teased.

“It is,” Salina said right back. “And tonight we shall feast!”

And so they did, and when they were finished, gave Jasmine a grand, joyous farewell. Jasmine waved goodbye, getting atop Enkaiein’s back, who had offered her a way home, and the red knight blew her a kiss. She watched King Albert and Queen Salina fade into the distance along with Castle Albreton as they passed over the fields of albino and then rainbow grasses, followed by the forest where the nymphs lived, which looked dwarfed and unimpressive after witnessing the colossal trees of Olden.

“Hey, Enkaiein,” said Jasmine.

“Hmm,” Enkaiein flapped his wings, propelling them faster above the trees. “What is it?”

“Is there really a way I can come back if I leave?” She had not forgotten that it was Enkaiein’s ink that brought her to this world in the first place, after all.

“When a path becomes overgrown, do adventurers cease to walk it?”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Think about it,” said Enkaiein, and then in a nauseating flash Jasmine found herself back in her own neighborhood. She was about three blocks from home, standing dumbly on the sidewalk, and the colors were so dull and unsaturated compared to Albreton that at first she thought she might be going colorblind. In her hands, there was a single feather made of dried ink. On the ground, scrawled in black calligraphy, was Enkaiein’s message.

See you soon, it said, still glowing faintly with magic.

That made Jasmine smile and cry at the same time. She knelt down to touch the letters, but they faded away as if they had never been there in the first place, sinking into the cracks of the sidewalk like worms. With the moon high above, Jasmine made her way home.

The walk to her door was bland in a surreal sort of way. She had no idea what time it was, but it must have been either really late or really early. Either way, it was the middle of the night. Only two cars sped past her as she went. She breathed in the nightly air, stared at the stars beyond the glare of the street lamps, made a wish for Albreton and the friends she left behind. She could see her breath in little puffs in front of her that blew away in the chilly wind. When she got home, frost twinkled on the windowpanes, though there was no snow on the ground.

She knocked on her door three times, took a step away on the stoop. It felt like an eternity before her mother opened the door wide and practically tackled Jasmine with a hug.

“Jasmine! Jasmine,” her mother blubbered into her shirt along with a dozen other things Jasmine couldn’t understand for how muffled they were. When she finally pulled away, her mother touched the burn scars on Jasmine’s face before bursting into tears all over again.

“Uh, I’m home,” said Jasmine, because what else could she say?

“Where were you?” Now her mother’s grip on her was starting to hurt her spine. But Jasmine didn’t think it was right to try and squeeze out of it. “What happened? You just vanished! The police had no leads and the case went cold and they told me you were probably dead by now!”

“Mom,” said Jasmine, “How long have I been gone?” She hadn’t exactly kept track in Otherworld. After all, finding a clock or calendar there was nigh on impossible. Not to mention everything else that happened.

“You’ve been missing for three and a half months!”

“Is that all? It seems like it’s been longer.” Jasmine’s memory flooded with everything she had been through in Albreton, Olden, and the places in between. Somehow she thought she spent at least a year there. Then again, the seasons didn’t shift while she was gone in either place, it seemed. Jasmine’s mother dragged her inside, shut the door behind and locked it. That’s when Jasmine noticed the new security keypad on the wall, next to about a dozen mechanical locks that went all up and down the door crease.

“Now tell me,” said her mother, grabbing both her shoulders, “What happened?”

But Jasmine couldn’t tell her the truth. She’d be put in an institution and probably lose all of her mom’s trust in the process, whether or not it would be anyone’s fault. So she made up the best thing she could think of on the fly, and lied.

“I was kidnapped,” said Jasmine after a pause that was so long and uncomfortable it seemed like she heard every particle bouncing around in the air.

Her mom was giving her a look that told her she had to continue.

“By a guy. I never saw his face. He, uh, wore a mask all the time.”

“Is he the one that did that to you?”

“Huh?” Jasmine twitched back when her mom reached out for the burns on her face. She couldn’t feel when her fingers made contact. She tried to stay as still as possible. This was the most bold-faced lie she had ever told and it was making her nervous.

“Did he do this to your face?”

Jasmine made a small noise, cleared her throat and nodded. She couldn’t help but wonder what her mom would think if she told her the truth about the scars. Yeah, so I was riding on a dragon and I didn’t know their scales got hot enough to burn your flesh off when they breathe fire. But they fixed my hands! That would have gone over beautifully.

“Did he do anything else?” Jasmine’s mother was staring at her in a stern sort of way that didn’t suit her at all. She looked like a doppelganger. But Jasmine answered her anyway, knowing exactly what she was asking.

“Nothing like that. Just the burns.” This whole situation left a disgustingly sour taste in Jasmine’s mouth and the very back of her throat, like the lies were acid coming up.

At her mother’s demand, Jasmine got checked out at the hospital, where they informed both of them that there wasn’t anything wrong with Jasmine at all aside from cosmetically. In fact, she was healthier than she had been at her last physical checkup, more in-shape, even her eyesight had improved. The doctors only showed concern for her mental health after Jasmine told them how she got burned in the first place, and they wondered what kind of man would keep his victims in perfect condition but turn around and make a point to mar their appearance.

The police station felt like an interrogation, too. Even though it was protocol and her mother insisted it was to catch whoever had done this to her in the first place, which Jasmine understood, Jasmine felt like her lie was going to be found out any moment. She felt like a criminal sitting there answering questions with blatant lies. And by the books, she technically was one, sending the police on a wild goose chase to find a person who didn’t exist, obstructing the justice system. But she absolutely could not tell any of them the truth; she knew that. So she kept her answers as vague as possible and pretended to have memory lapses to keep her story as straight as she could get it.

Even so, she really seriously thought she was going to get caught. She sat like a statue in the police station’s conference room with her mother until they let her go home. And then, of course, her mom requested she see a therapist and get a bunch of brain scans Jasmine couldn’t pronounce the full names of, just as a precaution.

After the fourth week, all this pointlessness was starting to wear Jasmine down. The constant surveillance had gotten annoying by day three. The therapy got irritating on the second visit. Her mother’s incessant need to know exactly where she was at all times was starting to piss her off too. She couldn’t do anything without someone knowing about it. It was driving Jasmine bonkers! There were a few days she considered actually telling everyone the truth, but that notion quickly vanished. It would only cause more trouble at this point and Jasmine was glad she had a viable reason not to act “normal” for a while.

She twirled Enkaiein’s feather in her fingers. It couldn’t be that simple, could it? She had to know. Her mother was out shopping. This could be her only chance for a while if things kept going the way they had been. So Jasmine breathed in and out, put the tip of the feather against her floorboard and scrawled out the words to the throne room of Castle Albreton.

“About time you got back,” said Queen Salina when the magic faded.

Jasmine smiled up at her, “Yeah, well. I had a few things to take care of back home.”

The red knight entered the throne room, face shoved into the yellowing parchment of a scroll. He didn’t see Jasmine until he was already halfway across the room. He dropped his scroll and said her name, standing in a teetering position until he had to catch himself before he would’ve fallen over.

“Never thought I’d see you look so surprised,” Jasmine said, sticking her tongue out. “What happened to all that bravado?”

“You’ve returned,” the red knight said as if his brain had only just processed that information.

“Jasmine,” said King Albert, coming into the throne room now too with a smile. He looked taller, more defined, like his jawbones had finally set into adulthood and his shoulders looked so much broader in the kingly robes. He still had that stupid fedora though, complete with the wafting feather, and that made Jasmine giggle.

“Long time no see.” Jasmine said, “but I can’t stay long. I have to get back.”

“Of course,” said King Albert.

“Well we insist you stay for dinner,” said Queen Salina.

“I wouldn’t have come all this way for nothing. I fully intended to demand some of Albreton’s food,” said Jasmine, flipping her hair. The red knight leaned over to grab the scroll he had dropped, glancing sideways at Jasmine and the way her hair framed her face when it flattened back down, not hiding one inch of the burns. He always did have a thing for battle scars.

“As you are welcome in our castle, so are you welcome at our table,” said King Albert, and so Jasmine enjoyed another royal feast before she scribbled the spell to return home.

The seasons changed, her mother mellowed, and Jasmine balanced both of her lives. At home she focused on her studies, always using a feather pen for exams. For good luck, she would tell everyone, thinking of a certain ink-made horse and King Albert’s fedora. On the weekends and every spare moment she had, Jasmine rode dragons, patrolling Albreton’s skies, and in either world, she never hid her scars.

The End.