C1 Chapter 1

Everything happened so fast. It was the twenty-first century and Enrique Ortega was studying in his room. All of a sudden, a light appeared close to the lamp, growing larger as it came closer toward him. Enrique clung to his bed but the light began to pull him in; as much as tried, he couldn’t stop the light from swallowing him in. Seconds later he fell into an unknown forest. At first he thought he was still on Earth, until, after walking for a few minutes he began to see people; they were riding horses and wearing clothes from the sixteenth century. The English they were speaking sounded strange to his ears. In the distance, Enrique glimpsed a bookstore. Needing information, he made quickly toward the entrance. In Enrique’s world, this would be considered a really old bookstore. The bookseller’s name was Francis. He was a tall, kind old man, intrigued by the sight of the young man standing before him, dressed in black jeans, a black t-shirt and brown jacket. Francis asked Enrique which book he was looking for; the conversation ended in a job offer. Enrique introduced himself as someone who had run away from home because of family problems. He found it easy to invent the details of his story as he talked to the bookseller. Francis identified with the boy’s story as he too had run away from home at the same age.

Some time later, Enrique admitted to himself that there was no way for him to return to his planet or to the twenty-first century. He decided there was only one option: to rebuild his life in Albion – an island-country in the world of Terros. Exchanging automobiles for horses, and asphalt for cobblestones was part of the process. So too was exchanging electricity for candles, sneakers and synthetic materials for leather and cotton. It was a struggle to adapt, and just as Enrique felt like he was starting to get a hang of this new world, came the first of his dreams of the hooded figure; and with them, the murders on the island.

* * *

"Do you think it will happen again?" Enrique asked, sprawled over his desk at one end of the classroom. Enrique’s dark hair fell over his face, hiding his half-closed brown eyes. It was the year 1680 of the Figstine calendar.

Jeff Johanstown was standing beside him, watching the students who streamed out of the classroom and talked about their tedious second semester studies. He turned to Enrique, who was clearly taken aback by the news. Two months ago there had been a murder at Harborne, the university they attended. The police investigated it without success. When similar killings starting taking place soon afterward, a new unit called the ’Blue Hawks’ appeared on the scene. Apparently, they would investigate each new murder until the assassin – who always seemed to carry out the same cruel method with his victims – was caught. The bodies were left almost unrecognizable. In some cases, partially devoured.

"The Hawks will take care of it," Jeff responded, patting Enrique on the back, trying to cheer him up. "Look on the bright side, we could be the ones that catch the killer! How exciting would that be?!"

"Not exciting at all," remarked Carol, making her way through the crowd, indifferent to the students in her way. Her long brown hair swayed as she walked. "One of us could be the next victim."

"The important thing is to stay calm," said Emma, who walked slowly behind Carol, carrying some books under her arm. She was wearing the same emerald pendant that she always did, which complemented her casual but eye-catching outfit. It matched her lime-green eyes. Emerald also featured in another of Emma’s most beloved objects: a golden winged brooch with a round gem in the center, a good luck amulet and a source of happy memories. "This is what we need for our project. We’d better hurry," Emma said, plopping the books down on the desk where Jeff had also placed an inkwell.

Every time there was a murder, Enrique had the same dream. It followed the same pattern, always beginning with darkness. He was unable to hear, see, or feel. He could not speak either. He could only sense his body moving. At some point in the dream, everything would turn purple and Enrique would find himself floating in the void.

As far as he could see there were distant stars and faint blue and purple clouds in a dark sky that looked like twilight. Everything was spinning slowly around him. After some time, on one ’side’ of this universe, an erratic stream of flickering images began to appear – like a glitchy bird’s eye view of familiar Terros landscapes. It was impossible for Enrique to look away, or to gaze back toward the void that engulfed him; he also perceived a light blue halo over everything he could see. All of a sudden, the aerial view began to zoom in and focus on a single building; its walls gave way, becoming transparent – allowing him to see what was happening inside.

Enrique always saw the same person, wearing a long, hooded cloak – cream colored with golden and silver details along the edges – which always obscured his face. The hooded figure hurled golden rays at a large, dark silhouette that slunk through the darkness of the night. Though Enrique was nearly fifty feet away, he could still make out the long extremities of the hooded figure’s adversary. The beast flailed its limbs in a flurry of self-defense, now sending these tentacles out to grasp at its opponent. But it was to no avail, for the hooded figure always emerged victorious. The shadow fiend was vanquished by the latter’s rays; only wisps of smoke remained where it once lurked. The dream usually ended with the hooded figure standing over a corpse or unidentifiable shape lying in a pool of blood. The figure would then kneel for a few moments, or simply remain still standing. Afterward, Enrique’s vision would turn to black, and he would wake to find himself back in his room. Every time he witnessed the hooded figure react in this way, he would wake to discover that another murder had occurred.

"Isn’t that right, Enrik?"

Emma’s broad but sweet Kiltish accent brought Enrique back to the present. Enrique turned to look at her and saw a slight look of concern cross her face.

"Ah . . . yes . . . I think so," he replied, still sitting at his desk.

Every time Enrique remembered the dream or heard something about the murders it gave him shivers. He wanted it all to be over. Sometimes he was too afraid to fall asleep or even close his eyes. He longed for the passing of this uncanny dimension. Enrique had no idea how or why he had ended up in Terros and it had taken him some time to fully comprehend what had really happened. It was lucky for him that Francis the bookseller had believed his runaway story and taken pity on him. Attending class and receiving financial support due to his situation helped Enrique to stay sane. The room he was renting, otherwise known as ’304’, and the other tenants in the building had also played an important role. He always greeted the tenants he crossed paths with and made sure to chat with the landlady everyday as he left the building. These greetings were the closest thing that Enrique had to a sense of family – small gestures that helped him feel that he wasn’t completely alone in this strange world. The landlady was safekeeping a metal box for Enrique with his digital watch and cell phone. He had simply told her that the box contained ’memories of his parents.’ He had the only key. The landlady had never seen what was inside.

"Are you going to visit your aunt?" asked Carol. The orange sky signaled that night was coming, and the first lanterns began to be lit along the paved road that surrounded the university, along which they always walked after classes had finished for the day.

"I’d rather not!" answered Jeff. "But . . . I have a family get-together. You know . . ."

Enrique wished he could recall his own family gatherings more clearly. He had taken those moments for granted, and now he longed to experience them again.

"It’s important to see your family. If mine were closer I’d go to see them too," said Emma, who was walking alongside Enrique, behind Jeff and Carol.

Emma’s relatives were also far away. Not as far as Enrique’s, but she clearly felt the same way he did.

All of a sudden, Enrique felt a sharp twinge in his forehead. He brought his hand to his head, stopped walking and looked around, suddenly afraid. Jeff and Carol noticed and came toward him. Emma also shared their concern, and was about to come to Enrique’s aid; but something gripped her, paralyzing her: a familiar signal that came from an artifact that she hid within her clothes.

"Is something wrong? Did you leave something behind?" asked Carol. Emma thought for a moment that Carol was talking to her, which lifted her spirits for a split second.

"We can go back," Jeff said as he approached Ortega, who was rubbing his forehead with a gesture of frustration.

"No, no," Enrique answered, "I’m fine. It’s just stress with the exams, that’s all."

"I have to go," said Emma, surprising everyone. "I just remembered I . . . have a meeting . . . with my family . . . about the family business . . . bye!"

Emma was often dashing off without warning, so nobody was surprised by her sudden change of plans. She took off at a quick pace, disappearing into the dim light of the lantern-lit crowd. Meanwhile, Enrique knew that the twinges he was feeling could mean only one thing: he would soon be having another of his recurring visions.