With another long yawn, Oliver leaned closer to the windshield, trying to stay focused on the road as we neared the remains of the farmhouse. He’d been driving the entire day, and since he’d not gotten any sleep the previous night, he was struggling to stay awake. It was around three in the afternoon by the time we’d gone through Colorado Springs. I had a strange, almost eerie feeling as I saw the same streets and buildings where I’d taken my first trip through the area with my scooter. Now, with all the snow melted, the familiar place felt foreign once again. After we passed through the center of the town, we drove onto the same road Emily had driven with me in the passenger seat all those months ago.

  So much had happened since then. It felt as if it was years ago, and as if I was a completely different person. Thinking about it, I was, really. I’d learned to be more open with people, how to handle situations on my own, and so focused on my goal of finding my way home…I had changed as a person, maybe even more than I realized. During the drive, Oliver and I both discussed what Nathalie had told us. Even though I was confident in my decision, I couldn’t help but feel the intrusive thought creeping up on me, telling me I should have taken her advice.

  The car suddenly swerved a bit, catching my attention as I looked at Oliver, seeing his eyes wide and alert before he slouched a bit.

  “You doing okay? I asked him.

  “Hm? Yeah, I’m…” He paused, interrupted by a yawn. “I’m fine. It’s just a little farther. I’ll definitely need to sleep for a bit, though.”

  I nodded, looking out the window, up at the mountains I’d traveled over and through to meet up with Oliver. Driving the same distance made it feel trivial, but I still remembered how the land stretched on for eternity when I’d gone on foot. The car gently swung from the main road onto the one leading to my house. It really was my home now, with John gone. It felt uneasy to be back in familiar territory, with the house destroyed. Part of me felt like I could just expect to see the house in full, warmly waiting for me, with John working on the car in the garage.

  A few minutes later, we pulled into the driveway. The full reality of everything was finally beginning to rest on my shoulders. I was suddenly familiar with every rock, every tree, every bump in the road. This land was a place I knew, a place where I had lived for my entire childhood, and I knew the moment we rounded the final corner, we’d see it…

  Oliver stopped the car as we came around the bend. Both of us stared in shock at the skeleton of the farmhouse. Despite being only the wood planks and boards, it was the full outline of the house, exactly how it looked before the fire. It was being rebuilt from scratch.

  “Do you see anyone?” I asked, eyes quickly darting around the house, not finding a soul.

  Oliver shook his head, taking out his phone. “Ah, we’re in luck. It’s Sunday. They probably don’t work on Sundays.”

  “Yeah, maybe…we’ll keep an eye out, just in case.”

  Oliver nodded and continued driving. Slowly we rolled closer to the house, looking for any signs of life. There were large construction vehicles around the house, but no personal vehicles or people. It looked like we were in the clear. Pulling up to the farmhouse felt surreal, like I was watching my old home rise from the ashes. Strange as it felt, there was a small amount of comfort, knowing I might be able to return to it…one day. As we came to a stop, Oliver rolled down the windows and turned off the car, leaning back in his seat with a sigh.

  “I’ll stay here.” He said, closing his eyes. “If anyone comes by, they’ll see me first, and honestly, I don’t think I can keep my eyes open any longer.”

  “Okay, that’s a good idea. Thanks, Oliver, I…um, I shouldn’t be too long.” I answered, opening the door.

  A familiar spring scent washed over me. I felt like I hadn’t been here in decades. Every aspect of the environment–the flora, the scents, the view–brought back so many memories. The last time I’d seen the farmhouse, there was only one area of the house still fully intact, but now that section had been demolished in order to make way for the new construction. Taking a brief glance around the house, I noticed a large, gray storage locker with a padlock.

  Storage.

  It would make sense to store everything still intact they’d found in one spot. As I drew closer, I saw the padlock holding the door shut was made of thin, weak material around the bar holding the locker shut. With all the tools sprawled out in the open, it didn’t take long to find a sledgehammer for the job.

  I used to chop wood with an axe in the spring and summer with John, so I knew how to easily break this lock. Holding the weapon in both hands, I swung it behind me, lifting it up and over my head before coming down on the padlock, crushing the device’s metal bar as the remainder of it clattered to the ground. After gently placing the tool next to the small shed, I pulled the door open with ease. A wave of concentrated smoke scent blasted me as I stepped into the building.

  Inside, there was a large collection of drawers, each with unorganized items in them. I recognized some of these drawers from the kitchen and garage as I rummaged through each one, using the sunlight to carefully inspect each object. Almost everything in the shed was random tools from the garage and some knick-knacks the construction workers must have found. I found hardly anything from my bedroom, but I wasn’t too surprised. That part of the house had been completely destroyed.

  After a few minutes of searching, I found what I’d been looking for: a full bottle of mercury from one of the kitchen drawers. The label had burnt off completely, but the bottle itself was still intact. I opened it and gave it a small taste. It was definitely mercury, and it still tasted as it normally did. Having found the primary thing I needed here, I felt myself relax. It didn’t seem worth it to stay here for too long. Everything I could find in here was either random household objects or tools.

  I left the shed, closing the door behind me as I walked toward the car.

  “Okay Oliver, I think I found what we–” I started, but then quickly stopped.

  Oliver was fast asleep. Taking another glance around, I didn’t see or hear anyone. Maybe we did have a little bit of time, at least enough to let him rest. Heading back into the house, I looked around me, taking in the odd sight of the frame of the house, out in the open.

  So this is what the final house will look like.

  They’d done a good job of recreating it. I then noticed a sign on the front door.

  NO TRESPASSING

  It was stretching almost the entire length of the door, with some smaller text underneath it. I approached it, eyes widening as I read the rest of the message.

  Property of Tess Evans

  Construction by Reliant Construction Inc.

  Two phone numbers were listed as well. One of them must have been the construction company, but I recognized the other. It was Emily’s.

  “Property of Tess Evans…” I said to myself.

  My eyes drifted up the front of the house again. Suddenly, it felt very different to gaze at this home…my home. Until now, I’d completely forgotten about the paperwork Emily had mentioned to me. I’d been so caught up in everything else, I barely even registered it when she had me sign the papers. This reconstruction must have been the reason I needed to sign all of those documents.

  Even though I could have slid between the beams with ease, something felt right about going through the front door properly. I walked inside the house’s skeleton, closing the door behind me. With all of the furniture gone, the farmhouse felt massive. I walked from room to room, stopping at each one as memories flooded back into my mind with every step. Some of those moments were from when I was much younger. Some were from the times I was cleaning while listening to music. Some were myself, John and Emily sitting around the fireplace as they talked and I’d play whatever instrument I had nearby me.

  I could see the dining room table, clear as day, thinking about the conversation John had with me–explaining how he’d found me and the other objects he’d kept for me for all those years. I looked up at the ceiling, seeing the same vent which led to my bedroom. I’d been sitting right there when everything happened. My hands started to shake as I remembered Michael’s voice while he argued with John. As much as I tried to push those thoughts out of my mind while my eyes squeezed shut, I could hear the front door opening as the woman burst into the house, as if they were all there right now. When I opened my eyes, the base of the stairs were on fire, right where John had thrown the gas lantern.

  It was playing out in my head as if it happened yesterday.

  “Stop, stop, stop…” I kept whispering to myself, backing away from the fire, trying to get these awful visions out of my head.

  Suddenly I tripped over a beam, thudding to the ground as the memories took full control of me. I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t stop hearing John’s cry of pain as the wooden beam pinned him in the fire. The woman’s shadow appeared in my window. I hated her. I hated both of them. They’d taken everything from me, and all for what? I buried my face in my hands, laying there as I just cried. It was all I could hear outside of that awful night.

  You need to get up.

  A gentle voice from inside my head softly spoke to me.

  You need to get away from here.

  I slowly stood and turned, taking one step at a time while my eyes stayed screwed shut. The house brought back too many awful feelings. Seeing any more of it would only make more of those memories come back to me. Once I was a few feet away from the farmhouse, I wiped away the tears, peering through my blurry vision as I walked up the familiar path. I didn’t look back on my old home. I couldn’t.

  Heading up the hill, I felt my breathing return to normal, my anxiety starting to fade. Something about that moment felt as if I was someone else. All my thoughts and logic had suddenly evaporated when I was overwhelmed with thoughts, memories, fears and regrets. Shaking my head, I hadn’t even noticed I’d walked to my treehouse until I nearly bumped into the base of the tree. I blinked, taken aback as it suddenly appeared.

  With a deep breath, I closed my eyes, trying to let all of those negative feelings vanish before I opened my eyes and looked at the ladder. The bottom rungs had all been removed. Emily had probably done it to discourage anyone from climbing up there. Pausing underneath the treehouse, I debated what I should do. Going back to the house wasn’t an option for me, not right now. Besides, I didn’t know when I’d get another opportunity to visit my treehouse.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  I bent low to the ground, curling my back and planting my feet on the ground before I leaped into the air, easily reaching the bottom rung of the ladder. Grabbing it, I continued to pull myself rung by rung until the trapdoor was only inches above me. The wooden door opened with ease, allowing me to climb inside my studio.

  Closing the trapdoor behind me, I turned around, looking fondly at the familiar place. The instruments lined every wall and several were carefully placed on the floor of the tiny treehouse. The chair warmly welcomed me, one John had designed for me to allow my tail to go through the back of it. The whole place was specifically and perfectly created for me…my size, my shape, my instruments. I loved this treehouse.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the poor ukulele I’d thrown against the wall. Even after all this time, it was still there, in pieces. I was so angry when I’d destroyed it, but now, those problems felt like nothing. Never in a million years could I have guessed how my life would change after that night. Knowing it was best not to dwell on it, I hopped into the chair and looked around my setup. My laptop was still in place, but with the electricity cut off, there was no way it would work. My piano was directly in front of me, drums set to the side, and my guitars on the wall. Everything was exactly as I’d left it.

  Turning my vision to the windows, I looked through all three, one after the other, each one giving me a different view. Since it was summer, It was hard to see through the trees, but I could see just enough to make out the farmhouse’s framing. I quickly tore my gaze away the moment I saw it. It was best I didn’t look at it anymore.

  My eyes fell to my acoustic guitar, the one I’d gotten a few years ago as a birthday present. It wasn’t painted, just stained wood, but I always saw it as a beautiful instrument. It was smaller than a standard one, designed for kids, and that difference made it fit me almost perfectly. I carefully grabbed it off of the wall, leaning back in my chair as I gently plucked a few strings. It was horribly out of tune, but that problem was easy enough to fix.

  Once it was in full working order, I gave it a strum, reaching up to its neck before trying to play a simple chord. It had a horrible rattling sound when I held down the strings.

  “Hmm?”

  After feeling my fingers rattling, I took a look at them, realizing the problem. My claws had lost most of the shape I’d ground into them. My rough, tattered claws wouldn’t allow me to press the string to the guitar neck. I moved my fingers to the thickest string, pressing in slightly and moving back and forth against the guitar neck. A few seconds later, I inspected them again. They looked better, but it’d take some time to get them up to their former shape.

  Well, who’s in a rush?

  “Not me.” I answered, closing my eyes and resting comfortably in my chair as I started to play.

  There wasn’t a particular song in my mind. Instead, I let my feelings guide me, losing myself to the music as I thought about when I’d first met Oliver and Gav, and then met back up with Emily. All of those adventures and discoveries we’d uncovered together projected as a sweet serenade through my treehouse. I lost track of time as I simply played the guitar, focused on it and it alone.

  Through the skylight, I could see the sun moving across the sky. Oliver needed rest, after all, and he could call me when he was awake. Until that time came, I could be alone in my treehouse and just forget about everything else. Of course, trying to clear my mind meant the subconscious thoughts tried to rise inside of me. I started thinking about the fire again, about John and the regrets and guilt I felt. I tried to force my thoughts to something else, anything else, but I couldn’t help but return to it over and over.

  As I fell into the mental spiral again, things felt…different, somehow. I felt some sort of warmth in me, one stopping me from looking into the pit of despair. Instead, I remained perfectly calm and took in each memory with clarity. It may have been a strange feeling, but I gladly welcomed it as I continued playing the song, thoughts still driving ahead of me.

  The sun began to set over the distant mountains, bidding me farewell as the world around me began to get dark. I continued allowing the thoughts to drift through me, but kept my control, not letting them take hold of my feelings, instead reveling in the peace and serenity. While the song continued to drift into that peaceful feeling, I let my mouth drift open, adding my own words to the guitar’s song.

  In the dead of night, the flames took flight,

  Consumed the house, the engulfing light

  I stood frozen, unable to save,

  As John’s voice echoed in the blaze

  Oh the guilt weighs heavily, it won’t let me be,

  Haunted by the flames that took him from me.

  But I’ve cried all my tears, fought all my fears,

  Now I must find a way to let him be.

  Every time I replay the scene,

  The smoke, the heat, the silent scream.

  I hear his words, begging me to try,

  But I was paralyzed, I couldn’t comply.

  Oh the guilt weighs heavily, it won’t let me be,

  Haunted by the flames that took him from me.

  But I’ve cried all my tears, I’ve fought all my fears,

  Now I must find a way to let him be.

  I carry the burden, the weight of regret,

  But I know deep inside, I can’t change what time has set

  His memory lingers, a flame in my soul,

  But I can’t keep holding on, it’s time to let go.

  Oh the guilt weighs heavily, it won’t let me be,

  Haunted by the flames that took him from me.

  But I’ve cried all my tears, I’ve fought all my fears,

  Now I must find a way to let him be.

  I love you, I miss you, but I have to let you go,

  For in my heart, your spirit will forever glow.

  The final melodies slowly vanished into the world around me as I sat in silence, letting the waves of emotion softly wash over my body. I wiped the tears from my eyes and looked out to the last light of the fading sun. I could see the framing of the house again, but now I felt calm. It didn’t upset me to look at it. There was no changing the past, but I could always look to the future.

  I could see the car’s headlights again as they lit up the front of the house. Oliver must have gotten some rest while I was out here. I knew it was time for me to go, but I took one last moment to sit there and take in the whole scene. Walking toward the window, I looked out over the woods, then up at the stars. Through the branches, I could see a faint light, far in the distance. It didn’t look like anything I’d seen, so I moved to the side, trying to look around the branch, but there wasn’t enough room in my tiny treehouse.

  “What–” I started, then looked above me to the upper hatch.

  I’d used it plenty of times to sit on the roof of the treehouse, so I climbed up through it again, hoping to get a better view. Still, I couldn’t see the light clearly, so I decided to climb farther up the tree itself. Sticking to the thicker branches, I clambered farther and farther to the top until I was practically there, sitting over almost every other tree around me. Far in the distance, I could see a bright, unmoving light. Despite being perfectly still, it shone much brighter than any other star or planet.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was Oliver.

  “Hey, Oliver.” I said, still looking at the bright light.

  “Tess, you need to get down here.” He said, tone very serious.

  “Oh…okay. It’s just…there’s this light in the sky. Can you see it?” I asked him.

  “I can. That’s why you need to get down here.” He answered.

  “I’ll be right there.” I responded, handing up the phone and starting my climb down the tree.

  From a branch close to my treehouse, I jumped onto the ceiling of my treehouse, deciding to simply leap the rest of the way from the roof instead. With a loud thud, I stood to my full height and quickly headed down the hill. My pace grew faster and faster as I returned to Oliver’s car. I could see Oliver’s eyes glued to the phone as I jumped back into the passenger seat. A news anchor was coming through his phone’s speaker. Curious, I moved in closer.

  “Reports from around the world seem to be confirming the same thing,” the news anchor continued, “a bright light in the sky from an unknown source. First thought to be a supernova, we’ve heard confirmation from several astronomers that the light signature doesn’t match that of any known type of star explosion. We have top scientist Calvin Brown from Stonybrook University on the phone. Calvin, what can you tell us about this?”

  “It’s hard to say,” a second man replied, “we don’t want to jump to conclusions, but we’ve had several people looking at this and we’re all finding the same results. As you’ve said, we don’t see any natural explanation for the light signatures we’re seeing here, but we’ve had only just under an hour to observe this phenomenon. There’s a lot of digging we need to do here before we can come to any conclusions.”

  “No natural explanations, but are there any other explanations you guys are looking at?” The anchor asked.

  “Um…” The scientist began to say before turning to one side. He looked like was looking at someone else for an answer, but a moment later, he turned back to the camera. “So, like I said, there are a lot of potential explanations that we’re looking at, but the light signatures seem to be that of a high-powered nuclear ion engine.”

  “Wait, are you saying–” Before the anchor could ask, Calvin cut him off.

  “Hold on. I know the conclusion everyone wants to jump to, but we’re looking into other, more reasonable explanations first.”

  “Such as?” The anchor asked.

  “We’re looking at…well, it could be an experimental spacecraft, one that hasn’t been made public, perhaps. But, to our knowledge, we’re decades away from an engine of this size, let alone six of them.”

  “There are six?” The anchor asked, straightening his posture a bit.

  “Yes, six. It appears to be three spacecraft, two of these engines on each. Wait…was that not public yet? Shit…” He mumbled the last word, looking to the side again, far more nervous as he turned to the camera again. “I need to go. We’ll release more information soon.”

  A moment later, the video feed went black. The anchor looked like he hadn’t listened to the last sentence as he listened carefully on his earpiece.

  “Uh, sorry folks, but there appears to be a malfunction with our equipment. Janice! Who is this on my earpiece?!” He yelled to someone off-camera before turning to the screen again. “Sorry folks, give us just a moment while we work this out.”

  A woman walked into view. She wore a brown suit and held a clipboard in her hand. I figured she was one of the producers as she whispered into the anchor’s ears for a moment before getting off camera. The anchor looked stunned, but eventually he made eye contact with the camera again.

  “Folks, it seems like there’s a…a message being broadcast on all radio frequencies. It doesn’t sound like anything I’ve…” He stopped, grabbing his earpiece as he listened intently.

  Oliver paused the video. We both looked at each other before he reached out and turned on the car’s radio. As he changed through the channels, sure enough, it was the same broadcast everywhere. It was a woman’s voice, but in a strange sounding language. It didn’t sound like anything I’d heard…

  Wait, I have…

  I focused intently on the message. It was repeating every half a minute. I closed my eyes, thinking hard on each individual word, trying to process what this voice was trying to say…but even so, I couldn’t quite piece it together.

  “Do you recognize it?” Oliver asked me.

  “Sorry, just…” I paused. “...just give me some quiet for a moment. I’ve got to concentrate.” I told him.

  Oliver sat in silence as we listened to the message. Some of the words felt…familiar. When I didn’t focus on the words themselves and just let the message play in the back of my mind…I could understand what was being said, even if each word was still murky. After a few minutes, the message ceased, the radio abruptly cutting to static.

  I opened my eyes, looking at Oliver. His attention was completely on me.

  “...I think I understand it.” I said, hesitantly.

  “What did they say?” He asked softly.

  “They said…they said they could never forgive me for what I’d done, but…they’ll let me have my peace as long as I return the black shard. They only want the black shard.”