• Prologue

    Sunlight washed into the dull, antiqued bedroom of a little girl. Her toys were put away neatly, on shelves and in corners. Her quarters looked as though they were straight out of a picture, perhaps a picture from long ago. One might expect to feel whimsy and warmth inside such a pretty place, but in reality, the room was far from happy. If one was to walk inside, they might get that feeling of eyes on their back; a haunted feeling, as though someone were watching their every move, waiting to strike.

    On the bed, the young girl lay, her eyes closed and her hands folded over her chest. Her long, wavy golden locks spread across the pillow, twisting and twirling in every direction. Her skin was pale, far too pale to seem even real. She looked like a porcelain doll, fragile and breakable. There was no movement from her at all. Not a twitch. Not a sigh. Not anything.

    The door to the bedroom opened slowly, creaking with age as it did. Into the room walked a somber looking adult, who seemed as though she'd never smiled a day in her life. She walked to the side of the bed and sat down, staring at the little girl solemnly. She traced her long, blood-red nails up and down the contours of the girl's cheeks, and turned away.

    Another adult walked into the room, this time a male with graying hair and droopy eyes. He, too, was somber and listless. He didn't move towards the bed, however. He just stood in the doorway, staring quietly at the woman and the little girl. He locked eyes with the woman, and they stared at each other in dead silence.

    No breathing was coming from the little girl; her skin was cold to touch. She'd been very sick for a very long time. Both of the adults knew that this day would come. Neither of them shed a tear. They just looked on, gravely, waiting for the doctor to arrive from out of town. She'd been such a lively girl, sans the times she was bedridden. Just the night before, they'd spoken to her, and she'd spoken to them, blissfully unaware of the tragic fate that was to befall her. She'd died peacefully in her sleep, out like a candle in the wind.

    She'd picked flowers the day before; beautiful yellow flowers that were growing in the field behind her house. She had gone close to the dark woods to get them, something she'd never dared to do anytime before. They were strange flowers, the kind that you couldn't name, and the kind that wasn't listed in the flora books. Now they were sitting in a vase by the little girl's bed, wilting even though they hadn't been out of the ground for long.

    The family cat had seemed to pick up on the emotions of his owners. He'd perched himself on the windowsill, and stared at the three through cold amber eyes. His ears twitched a few times before he leaped down onto the floor. He prepared to jump again, this time onto the little girl's bed. As soon as he did, he walked onto her chest and let out a mournful yowl. Without another sound, he walked off of the bed and out the open door. The adults once again exchanged a glance.

    A knock on the front door caused the two to disperse. They left the child's bedroom and walked downstairs to greet whomever it may be. They opened the door to see the doctor standing there, bag in hand. When they didn't say anything, he looked at them knowingly, nodding before he went up the stairs. He, too, had known this day was coming soon. Everyone had; except for the little girl, that is.

    "Mr. and Mrs. Deavon, Imogene is dead... I'm sorry," said the doctor. "There is nothing I can do, now. I'll go and call an ambulance..."

    Neither of the Deavons spoke, they simply nodded in agreement. They took one last look at their lifeless little girl, and walked out of the room. The doctor followed close behind, not wanting to be left alone in the room with the deathly presence. He'd experienced it time and time before, but never quite like this. It was always far worse when it was the soul of a little girl that had moved on.

    When the adults had long left the room, and all was quiet, the door slowly began to creak open. At first, it appeared as though there was nothing there at all, but there was. Into the room walked a wolf, fur red as blood, with markings black like coal. It's blue eyes glowed as it made it's way towards the bed. In a wisp of fog, it transformed into a young man. He stared at the little girl in the bed for a few silent moments before opening his mouth to speak.

    "Imogene, come with me," he commanded. His voice was raspy, but not exactly deep. When he spoke, it sounded as though there was a hint of a whimper or a growl behind the words.

    In an instant, the little girl sat up in bed, and looked back and forth. The moment she glanced at the wolf, she cried out in fear and burrowed beneath the covers, trembling. The wolf shifted back into his normal form, and nuzzled the little girl's hand with his nose. "There, there, Imogene. I know you're frightened, but there's no reason to be scared of me. I am a sheep in wolves clothing, or so they say. I am Mosirius; your guardian from the Northern side of Meza'dae."

    "W-why are you here?" stammered Imogene as she peered out from the covers. Her soft, gray eyes were wide with terror as she stared into the face of the wolf.

    Mosirius licked her hand tenderly, trying to reassure her of his harmlessness. "You are not in the world of the living anymore, child."

    Imogene timidly reached out to pet the wolf's furry muzzle. "What do you mean? Where am I?" she asked. Moments after she asked, her face drooped with morbid realization. "I'm not dead, am I?"

    "No, you're not really dead," the wolf replied, "you're what they call half dead. If you were dead, you would have gone to the Heavenly places. Instead, you are here, ready to begin your journey into the lands of Meza'dae."

    "Half dead? How?" Imogene was confused, and rightly so.

    "You had an illness, Imogene, but it wasn't an ordinary illness. When you were just toddler, you were lost in the dark woods behind your house. Do you remember this?"

    "Y-yes, but just barely," she replied.

    "Do you remember the pale woman with the red eyes and the black hair?" Mosirius asked, shuddering a little as the image of the woman crept into his mind.

    Imogene also shuddered. "How could I forget? She's been in almost every one of my nightmares since I saw her."

    "That was the rogue Queen of Northern Meza'dae. She put a curse on you, the curse that said you would grow sick in the living world, and go to Meza'dae on your tenth birthday." Mosirius' eyes darted back and forth as he spoke. In a flash, he shifted into his human form, and sat down on the bed next to Imogene. She had tears in her eyes, and a look of upset on her delicate face.

    "Why would she do that?" sniffled Imogene. "What did I ever do to her?"

    He ran his fingers through her golden hair. "You didn't do a thing, dear child. She saw you, and she wanted you as her own. She sent me here to come get you. You are to be the princess of Northern Meza'dae, and one day you will be the queen. Doesn't that sound wonderful?"

    Imogene shook her head somberly. "She's not going to hurt me, is she?"

    "She won't hurt you, or at least, not while I'm around. I am your guardian, protecting you is my duty," Mosirius replied.

    "Will I ever see my parents again?" asked Imogene.

    There was a look of doubt in the wolf's eyes. "There's very little chance of that, Imogene. I'm sorry. I promise you, though, you will have a wonderful life in the palace. There is so much to do there, and you will be treated royally." He shifted forms again, this time appearing with jet black, feathered wings.

    Imogene wiped tears away with her hands. "I guess things will be alright. I just wish I had the chance to say goodbye to mom and dad."

    "I'm sorry that you won't," Mosirius said, apologetically. "I think it's time for us to leave, now. We have a long way to go before we reach the castle." He stood to the side and motioned for Imogene to climb onto his back.

    "How do you get to Meza'dae?" She perched herself between his enormous wings and grabbed a few clumps of red fur to hang onto.

    He flapped his wings, and in an instant, they appeared at the edge of the dark forest behind Imogene's house. "Through here," he said, "and through many other places. As I said, it's a long journey. Are you comfortable?"

    "Yes," she said.

    Mosirius crouched down on the ground, preparing to sprint. Imogene gripped his long fur a little tighter in anticipation for the sudden jolt. He darted into the woods suddenly, dodging trees and avoiding branches. The little girl on his back leaned down to put her arms around his neck. It hadn't been enough just to hold onto his fur.

    As they went on, the smell of death began to waft through the air. Mosirius wrinkled his nose in disgust, as the smell was always far more intense to canines. Skeletons and decaying carcasses of both man and beast lined the forest trail, multiplying in numbers as the path went on. Imogene yelped in fear as she caught sight of these things.

    Sensing her fear, Mosirius attempted to calm the girl. "It's alright, this won't happen to you. I promise you that you'll be safe."

    "Safe from what?" squeaked Imogene.

    "From the evils that lurk here, of course." He didn't want to be any more descriptive than that, for fear tales of beasts would upset the young girl even further. He could only hope that he wouldn't cross pathes with any of them.

    Deep in the forest, terrible things lurked. There were long, thin shadow-creatures, with soulless eyes and claws like scissors. There were beaked creatures, and things with glowing yellow eyes. Worst of all, however, there were tall, giant creatures that were dark and blended in with the scenery. They came in all terrifying shapes and sizes, and could swallow a wolf and a little girl in one bite. You'd never see them until it was far too late.

    Hissing from the woods that lined the path echoed around Imogene and Mosirius. The little girl clutched tighter around her guardian's neck, relying on his speed and strength to keep them out of harm's way. Soon, the path narrowed, and the dead and dying trees began to weave together overhead, making a sort of tunnel in front of them. Mosirius dashed in and slowed his pace, panting and whimpering as he turned to look behind him.

    "We'll be safe in here," he murmured, coming to a stop. "Can you walk?"

    Imogene climbed off his back and nodded. "I suppose I can. How far away are we, now?"

    "Very far away from the North, but very close to the portal," Mosirius said. He began to walk, slowly, so that Imogene could keep up with him.

    She looked all around, marveling at the natural construct. There were mushrooms on the ground that glowed blue, lighting the way for the both of them. Fireflies began to dance around, flickering on and off. Flowers appeared now; flowers that no one alive had ever seen or heard of. Things were far more pleasant here than they had been outside of the tunnel.

    "What does the portal look like?" Imogene wondered aloud.

    Mosirius raised his head and flicked his ears in the direction of a colorful glow in the distance. "Very much like a pool of rippling water, only instead of being clear, it's the colors of a rainbow," he replied.

    As they drew closer to the marvelous portal, Imogene's eyes opened in wonder. Soon, they were within a few feet of the portal itself. Mosirius had indeed described it properly. It looked like a shallow pool of water, but it shifted colors every few moments, and glowed as though there were lights shining behind it.

    Suddenly, Mosirius halted, and his ears flattened against his head. Imogene noticed his reaction immediately. "Is something wrong?" she asked him.

    "No, nothing's wrong," he replied, sounding rather unsure of himself. "Just hurry up and jump into the portal."

    Sensing urgency in the wolf's voice, Imogene threw herself into the portal. Almost immediately, her lungs began to burn as though she was drowning. She let out a panicked cry, and flailed her arms around wildly. She could see no sign of her wolf guardian, or anything at all for that matter. Suddenly, she found herself on frozen ground, with snowflakes falling all around her.

    "We're in Meza'dae," came a voice. It was Mosirius, approaching from behind. "We're very lucky, you know. We landed on the very edge of the Northern territory. The Queen must be very eager to see you."

    "Eager to see me?" echoed Imogene.

    "Of course." Mosirius shifted forms, this time returning to his human looks. He stared at a hill in the distance, and twirled a lock of his soft, auburn hair. "Her castle is there, on the top of that hill. It looks like we'll be able to make it there by sundown."

    Imogene looked up in the direction her guardian was staring. She could see turrets rising up from a stone building. As far as she could see, the land was covered in snow and ice. It didn't seem cold to her, however. In fact, there didn't seem to be any temperature at all.

    "Well, let's keep moving," said Mosirius. "Follow me, and whatever you do, don't stray from me."

    Imogene nodded, not daring to ask why she shouldn't stray. They walked towards the hill, leaving footprints in the snow behind them. She was leaving the life she knew behind, and starting fresh in an unknown world. Strangely enough, everything felt almost right to her, as though she was meant to be there all along.

    There was no turning back now. She was going to be there forever.