"There is emotional and minor physical abuse in this part. You've been warned."

Sam gave me a long, glittering yellow dress that flared out at the bottom to put on. “Where did you get this?” I asked, holding it up to my chest.

“Since I'm helping you I can get into your room. While you were unconscious I grabbed it. Your red skirt was burned so badly it was practically falling off,” he said.

I felt my face grow hot, not that anyone could tell I was blushing with my skin so red. I didn't care if he had been a girl, I didn't like the thought of him seeing me in my underwear or, god help me, less. He left the infirmary so I had some privacy and I quickly got dressed, the thin, leafy green gown I had been wearing seemed so light and airy, it was almost like I wasn't wearing anything. Somehow it fit perfectly, fitting to my body and showing off every curve. Whoever had designed my wardrobe didn't seem to understand that sometimes a person doesn't want to show off, especially when they'd been a boy the day before. As I was about to leave I realized that the sword was still propped against the side of the bed. I didn't know the first thing about swords and had nothing to hold it with, so I finally picked it up and stepped outside.

Sam grabbed my arm as I tried to jump back in a panic. The walls were fleshy and a dark purple like a kidney or heart. As I watched them, they moved and flexed, not like a heart, but like it was being circled and squeezed by an anaconda. There was a rasping sound that set my teeth on edge. There was a plain metal door at the end, with a red and white exit sign above it.

“Where are we?” I whispered, afraid that whatever was squeezing the room would hear me.

“The antechamber. What do you like to do?” he asked me in his normal deep voice.

The rasping was making me want to wet my pants. “Anything quiet. Quickly.”

Sam knocked on the door I'd just came out of, making it boom. “Library.”

The door opened, revealing a dusty stack of books on a rickety desk. A man with skin as thin and fragile as the letters grandma kept from her childhood sat at the table. He was covered in dust and and spiders crawled over his bald head, cobwebs hung from his scalp like hair. His eyes were white, yet he ran a shaking, bony finger over a book muttering to himself.

“Hello, Walter. Someone wants to meet you, her name is Anthony,” Sam whispered as he sat down in a chair that looked like it would fall any second.

He didn't look up, but he spoke louder, revealing his toothless gums. “The way was long, the wind was cold. The Minstrel was infirm and old; His wither'd cheek, and tresses gray, Seem'd to have known a better day. Sir Walter Scott, The Lay of the Last Minstrel.”

“Um, that was very nice, Walter,” I said.

His dusty, ivory white eyes looked at me, I realized he didn't have any eyelids. Somehow he was looking at me. I hunched down in my chair hoping he'd stop watching me. He didn't, in fact he leaned closer. “ I am the daughter of Earth and Water, And the nursling of the Sky; I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores; I change, but I cannot die. Percy Shelley, The Cloud.”

“Ok. I think I just want to read a book now, if that's ok with you Walter,” I whispered, grabbing a fat half rotted book with no name. Hiding behind it I looked at the pages, they were blank. Flipping through it every page was empty.

I leaned over to ask Sam what was going on when the scary old man spoke again. “I do know that for the sympathy of one living being, I would make peace with all. I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other. Mary Shelly, Frankenstein.”

“Sam, why is the book blank?” I asked, trying to ignore the quotes. I hated English class and didn't want to think about it here.

“Just think of a book you like, or a type of book you want to read. Then open it, if you don't like it close it and try again,” he explained.

Frowning I thought about a batman comic book, yes I liked comic books, sue me, and opened the book again. It was the very first Batman comic. Flipping the pages I saw it went up to the 1950's. Closing it again, I thought 'Batman newest', and opened it up to see a comic showing the hero facing some villain I didn't know. I looked at the date, 2025, October.

Wow!

I spent the next hour or so reading comics that shouldn't exist yet. Unfortunately as I was finally escaping reality, Sam stood up, “Time to go Anthony. We need to see more things. Good bye Walter.”

He didn't look up, but of course he had something to say. “Still let my tyrants know, I am not doom’d to wear, Year after year in gloom and desolate despair; A messenger of Hope comes every night to me, And offers for short life, eternal liberty. Emily Bronte, The Prisoner.”

Knowing what to expect from the antechamber, I followed Sam so closely my hands were pressed against his back. Despite the horrible sounds and beatings of the room, I had to fight back a yawn. “Can I go back to my room now? Please.”

“Sure thing. Rooms,” Sam said, banging on the door once more.

We came out in the hallway with it's lines of doors and face plates. I hadn't thought I'd ever be happy to see it, and truthfully I hated the sight of the heavy, sullen doors, but after everything I just wanted to slink under some blankets and hopefully wake to discover it was all a nightmare. Of course at that point my stomach rumbled.

“Come on, lets get some food and we can take it back to our rooms,” Sam told me.

There were some other people in the cafeteria, Sam and I ignored them and they ignored us. I was quickly realizing that most people here weren't very friendly, the looks in their eyes were full of fear and they seemed to cringe if someone came too close. I wondered if I'd start looking like that before too long.

I grabbed things at random. Everything was edible, if not good tasting, so it didn't really matter what I ate. When my leaf plate was piled high with purple bark, berries, and sap covered twigs, along with a long flute like leaf full of something like water, Sam took me back to my room.

“Here you are Anthony. Have a good sleep, you have to train tomorrow and it won't be easy. But if you do well you can find some happiness and safety here,” he said, the look in his eyes were concerned for me and I knew he was trying to encourage me. It didn't really work.

“Thanks,” I said, unsure of what else to say. We were prisoners for monsters, I didn't want safety, the only happiness I'd find would be if I escaped.

I closed the door, and ate my food, it tasted like dust in mouth.

**

I thought I was asleep. I remembered lying down and trying to cry into my overstuffed pillow, I'd found I couldn't my eyes had stayed dried until sleep overtook me. But now I was standing in my front yard at home, it felt real. The wind blowing in my hair, the grass under my bare feet, the sound of my brother playing video games inside, my baby sister playing in the wading pool while my Mom watched her. I raised my hand to wave to them, ready to shout that I was back home. But my hand was too small, the fingers too long.

I looked closely and could see my red skin looking even more unnatural in the sun, my short, muscular legs, feel the long hair running down my neck,. This wasn't right, this was all wrong. I started sobbing, all the tears I'd held in during the nightmare came surging from me.

My knees let go, and I fell, still sobbing. Through the tears I saw a pair of black boots coming towards me. I looked up, my heart thumping so hard I thought it would burst. A man was standing there, looking at me with a deathly white face, stark against his pure black clothes. Tears were falling gently from his eyes.

"Hello, Ant," he said.

"My name's Anthony," I said, wiping my nose.

He shook his head, "Anthony is a name for someone who stands on his feet, who demands the respect he deserves. You once were such a person, feared, hated, honoured, respected. I served you proudly, calling you master."

He grimaced, like he had a bad taste in his mouth. "Now, now you are a squalling babe, begging others for help, whining like a dog at the thought of pain. You live in the dirt, you are an ant, so I call you by your true name, Ant."

"Who are you?" I asked, mopping up the tears in my eyes, hoping whoever he is, he'd stop insulting me.

I could now see that he was skinny, and tall, very, very tall, looming over me like a giant, his eyes gleamed in the sunlight, sparkling even. He bowed, "I am the Crier of Souls. I am the sword you wielded, and that you could wield again. I slay all who come before me. And all who come before you. Only the strongest may stand against me. And then I do them the honour of remembrance.”

I shrank back. "You're evil."

"Evil," he repeated, cocking his head to the side. "What is Evil? I kill who my master orders, then I remember each soul, honouring them, remembering their deeds and valour. I do my duty, no more no less."

"What's your duty?" I asked.

"Survive, and help my worthy masters survive," it replied. "Only then can I remember those that have died. I remember you, you hold an honoured place in my memory. For you I weep hard. But for you now, I would spare a single tear and only because I must."

I saw the disgust in its dark eyes, the curl of its lip. I saw myself as it saw me, small, crying, helpless. I was weak, with no idea how to get stronger, and so many things around me human and not human wanted to see me fail, and even die.

It watched me wipe the snot from my nose, straighten my shoulders and look it in the face. "Can you teach me how to be stronger?"

It smiled showing bloody, jagged teeth. "I can. If you are willing to learn."

I don't know where the words came from, but I found myself speaking, "Crier of Souls, I ask you to be my teacher and my weapon. Slaying those who would slay me and honouring those we defeat as they deserve to be honoured. Please accept this student and this wielder."

It bowed deeply. "I accept you as my student and my wielder, so long as you honour me and those we defeat. Betray this oath and you will cry tears of blood and shame until the end of your days."

I found myself holding the black sword in a field of red poppies, Crier stood opposite me holding a wooden sword. "The first lesson begins now," he said raising his sword.

**

I woke up the next morning, my mind a flurry of chaotic images of flashing swords, carefully placed feet and the feeling of welts covering my body. Looking around I realized this wasn't a nightmare. I felt my long hair, my now prominent hips, my short body, the red skin. I curled up into a ball clutching my knees to my chin. This couldn't be real. It wasn't real. Nothing like this was possible.

I remembered the hands on my flesh, changing me, the look in the creatures eyes. One looked at me like nothing more than a piece of meat, the other smiling his eyes glittering with excitement. My body shifted under him, my skin writhed, my bones bent. My new face appeared above me, contempt, hating me, hating everything that I was. Ready to kill me simply for existing.

What was happening?

Suddenly I smelled my grandmother cooking in the kitchen. Ham, french toast, golden scrambled eggs, all smothered in maple syrup and ketchup. I was just in bed, I'd had a nightmare. Everything would be alright.

Ryan was in the bathroom, I could hear him brushing his teeth. He was always noisy, gargling the water, farting, slapping his cheeks hoping to feel some hair. Usually the noise annoyed me, but today they were music to my ears. Grandpa was listening to Elvis out in the backyard, working on some little project or other. He was probably hoping to get some work done before it started raining again. It had been raining almost constantly since I had arrived, which really sucked, I was hoping to do some fishing today.

The blankets were so warm, I curled up into a ball, just enjoying the sounds and smells. My eyes were closed, I didn't need to see the plain wooden walls of my grandparents cottage. I could smell the pine and maple, it was one of the best smells in the worlds.

My clothes were put away neatly in the big dresser at the end of the bed. It was painted white with angels dancing on it. Grandma said it had been hers when she was a girl. I loved it, it always made my clothes smell like maple.

I wondered if I should get up. I was getting hungry, and Grandma's cooking was starting to make my mouth water. The last thing I remembered eating was some weird hotdog. I must have overcooked it in the fireplace last night just before bed. I didn't remember cooking hotdogs, but where else would I have eaten one? That weird nightmare? Not likely.

A door opened, footsteps came towards me. I smiled that had to be grandma. It sounded a little strange, her feet seemed to be clicking on stone, not creaking on the wooden floor, but who else could it be. The blankets were pulled back roughly. What was wrong with grandma, she didn't wake me up like this. “Grandma, what's wrong?” I murmured, still not opening my eyes.

“It's time to train human. Get up!” a woman snapped.

I covered my head. It was just part of the nightmare. I went back to my room, Grandma was there, asking if I was alright. She stroked my head like I was a little boy and told me it was just a nightmare. Everything was alright, and there was no reason to be afraid.

The nightmare held on. “You are trying my patience human!”

Grandpa came in, he wanted to show me the birdhouse he had made. I opened my eyes, and I saw a really cute birdhouse. It didn't have any paint, just different coloured woods, pretty white sides, dark brown doors and window frames, and a rose coloured roof. Grandpa was always doing things like that. Grandma started scratching my head, it hurt a little. I told her to stop, but she didn't. Her fingers were sharp. She cut my skin, I yelled but then her fingers were pushing into my skull. I saw Calandri again. She was massaging me. Her long fingers stroking me as she frowned.

The fingers stopped scratching me. Grandma was there again, smiling at me with her rosy cheeks. “So this is where you're hiding,” she said.

“I had a bad dream, Grandma,” I whispered,

Her hand patted my cheek. “Of course dear. But don't worry, it will be over soon enough. All you have to do is learn how to behave.”

“What?”

“You're a worthless little child right now,” she sneered, her lip curled and she scrunched up her nose like she smelled shit. “What good are you to anyone? Why do you think Ryan left you behind yesterday? Because you're slow, you're helpless. The only thing you're good for is a distraction.”

Grandpa slapped me across the face. “When we go fishing, do you ever help me? No you just sit on your skinny, lazy ass asking me to tie your god damn fish hooks for you, because you're too much of a dumby to learn how to tie simple knot. Just once I'd like go fishing without hearing your whiny little voice.”

“You visit us, eat us out of house and home, and what do we get in return? A few cheap presents, a hug or two, and the sheer JOY of having to wipe your nose and ass whenever you start to cry, which seems to be every single hour,” Grandma said, standing up and wiping her hands on her pants like she had touched something filthy. “You cry more than your baby sister. At least she has an excuse for being useless. What's yours?”

“Grandma, Grandpa,” I whispered fighting back the tears.

“Do you know why your parents give you to us for a month every summer?” Grandpa asked. “It's so they don't have to listen to you. They are so sick of you that if it wasn't illegal they'd leave you on the street to starve. You're a disgrace, getting a D in phys ed? How the hell can you get a D for running?”

Grandma slapped me hard, my lip started to bleed. “You have my daughter crying to me on the phone, because you're failing math. You're father is an accountant. Did God just forget to give you a brain when you were born? You are the most useless person this family has ever produced.”

“You're father drinks every weekend because of you,” Grandpa said. “When he comes home, smelling of beer, its to forget the shame of you. Why couldn't you be more like Ryan? He's good at school. He's good looking. He has more than a handful of little shits to call friends. What is one good thing you can do?”

I huddled in my blanket. I couldn't answer even if I wanted to. I'd never heard them talk like this. I'd never had anyone talk to me like this before. Everything they said felt like a punch. And they wouldn't shut up. I tried to block them out, but it didn't work. They pinched me, slapped me, hurt me. And the entire time they kept talking, telling me how useless I was, what a disgrace I was, how I should be ashamed of existing.

As the hours went on and they didn't stop talking, I started to believe them.

**

The nightmare ended finally. I was lying in my bed still, my nightgown, the sheets the mattress soaked with sweat and tears. I could still hear everything my grandparents had said to me, it echoed in my brain, I wondered if I could ever forget them.

Calandri looked down at me, smiling sweetly. She stroked my sweaty brow. “Remember Ant. No one cares for you as you are. But I, and I alone see your potential. When I come for you tomorrow, be ready to train, and I will show you how to become a powerful woman. Do you want that? Do you want to stop people from hurting you?”

I nodded my head.

“Good. Rest now, my little Ant. Remember I and I alone can keep those from hurting you. I am powerful here. Far more powerful than you can imagine. So follow me, trust me, and I will keep you safe. Here let me clean you up,” she said.

A basin of warm water and a sponge appeared out of nowhere. I felt a warm wind lift me into the air, my wet nightgown vanished. Calandri picked up the sponge and gently washed me. I hadn't been washed like that since I was three, but after all the hate and fear I'd felt, I closed my eyes and let myself feel protected and loved. Music filled the room, it was soft, sweet, peaceful.

“There you go, my little dancer. Calandri will care for you as long as you try to learn well,” she said scrubbing my short hair with a hot towel. “Learn well, and become strong for me. I won't let anything hurt you again, so long as you learn and are a good child.”

She put a clean nightgown on me, and put me back into bed, which had somehow been cleaned while she had washed me. She waved her hand and a table appeared with steaming pizza, chocolate milkshakes, chocolate ice cream, hamburgers, and hotdogs. “Now, for my little Ant, I have a special treat for you. Are you hungry?”

I nodded my head as my stomach growled.

“Do you promise to be a good child and try your best to make me happy?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Will you do what I ask, knowing that I'll protect you from all the bad things here?”

Again I nodded.

“Will you love me as much as I love you?” she asked, hugging me to her soft chest.

“I will,” I whispered.

“Good, good my sweet, wonderful child,” she said, kissing my cheek. “Lets go eat now, you need to be strong for me.”

As I ate the food, she took a brush and began combing my hair. Each brush seemed to take longer and longer to complete. As I started on my second slice of pizza I was pushing black hair out of my eyes. When I finished eating, the hair was heavy on my head, and hung to my waist. Calandri had put leather bows and silver bells in it. Whenever I moved my head the bells sang out.

“Do you like my gift, Ant? Aren't you beautiful?” she cooed.

I'd managed to recover a bit of my confidence by this point. “I'm not Ant, can you please call me Anthony?”

“I'm sorry Anthony, I won't call you Ant again, so long as you are a good child. But for the Lady, you must be beautiful. If you're not beautiful, the Lady will punish me. Do you want them to hurt me?” she asked, pouting and gazing at me with a look of longing and desire.

I looked into her amazing white eyes. “No, Calandri,” I whispered.

“Thank you my sweet, brave Anthony. So can you look in the mirror and tell me you're beautiful?” she asked.

A mirror hung in the air, I looked at it. My red skin glowed like the dying embers of a fire, shining against the silver bells that hung in my long black hair. “Thank you Calandri, you made me beautiful,” I said.

She beamed at me, like I was the greatest thing in the world. “I've made you beautiful, and soon I'll make you strong. Give me a kiss and then go back to sleep.”

I kissed her cheek, and she kissed me back. Her hands encircled me, and carried me cuddled against her warm body to bed. “There you go Anthony. Sleep well my dancer, and in the morrow we shall make you a star. Dream of me, and remember, now I am the only one who loves you, but soon with my help, everyone shall look at you in wonder and envy.”

The lights disappeared, but I felt her sitting beside the bed. As I slept I dreamed of Calandri, we were playing in a field of crystals too beautiful to describe. In the distance I saw Crier, but he had no business in the beautiful crystals, and he could come no closer.

I felt loved.