Child of Pelasgus

“You must go to Granada, Spain, at the end of your royal campaign. Then head straight back to the castle. This is of the utmost importance and must be done.”

I stare into four white glowing eyes focused in my direction. The twin’s mouths move in sync, with distortion.

“For?” I snap, pinching the bridge of my nose.

Why do they need a vision now? I’m annoyed that they are forcing this royal campaign at the last minute.

My sister Alina’s eyes turn to her normal color and she places a hand on her hip. “Listen up, you know we can’t say why. Just listen.”

She rolls her eyes and then goes back to her visions. She grabs her twin brother’s hand, causing a gust of swirls around those of us in the room.

Together they begin to mumble before they speak in unison, “Something bad is coming… Find your one… Hair blue as night. Lightning strike… As strong as she is frágil… Eyes red as blood.”

The twins sway and their eyes go back to their hazel color. Alina and Roman sit on the couch, looking defeated and tired.

“We don’t know what’s coming. We need to be prepared,” Roman says with urgency.

“Okay, you heard the kids. Get packed. Alek will accompany you and we’ll be in contact,” mother says, leaving no room for argument.

When everyone leaves, my sister comes to me and says, “Trust in this…” She points to my heart. “Once you save her, together you will save us.” She kisses my cheek and says, “I look forward to meeting her. See you when you get back.”

“Spain. Is that where you’ve been hiding?” I mutter to myself.

“Seems so brother. Let’s go get your Eresthai, shall we,” Alek says as he stops by my bedroom with his packed bag.

“Why can’t we go straight to Spain?” I ask, trying to worm my way out of the campaign as a whole.

He shakes his head and says, “Don’t mess with the Moon Goddess’s plan. Let’s do this right and no more messing around with she-wolves while we’re there. I don’t need the princess killing you before she even gets to the palace.”

His smile betrays his command. I roll my eyes and push his shoulder...

“First stop: Montana, USA,” I say with the level of enthusiasm Montana deserves. “At least there will surely be no she-wolves in Montana. At least none I would want.”