I

There was nothing out of the ordinary on the first most extraordinary day of Dylan’s life.

It was raining outside, and it had been so cold for the past few days that there were no boots in the land that allowed for safe travel from Dylan’s front door to the bus stop. In fact, there were no tires in the world that could help transport an entire bus full of normal people going about their normal day, without slipping on all the ice that had accumulated on the roads,

—but, this was not out of the ordinary at all for this part of the world at this time of year, and so Dylan simply went on in his layers and layers of clothing, onto the pavement. 

It was also very usual to get out of the house while it was still dark, and so Dylan did not see much of what was going on around him (especially with his wool hat and earmuffs and hood on) during the entire 43 minutes it took to walk to school. He could have easily been followed, but these things were not believed to happen in small towns such as the small town Dylan had been living in all of his life.

Dylan stepped into the school, onto the thick rubber mats with holes that were laid out onto the linoleum floors. He always imagined the work it must take to clean the water that melted off of all their shoes and through these holes, and so Dylan made sure to give the janitor an extra firm nod whenever they passed one another in a corridor.

There were never any accidents of slipping since the idea was executed in 1951, and so Dylan was able to confidently stride to his school locker. He only took off one layer—his wool hat, his winter coat, and his thermal gloves. The winter was no time for keeping books in one’s locker or they would be soaked before lunchtime (they had not thought of a solution for this yet, it being seemingly less pressing than the slipping problem), so Dylan continued his journey to first class with his heavy backpack.

Dylan did not have much to look forward to. There were no friends waiting for him in that classroom to chat nervously about the upcoming test results with, or to pester him until the teacher would put a stop to it. He got very good grades, but never high enough to be considered outstanding. Dylan did not even have a bully to color his days with anxiety until the meeting of next. 

He often thought about his life as if he was simply floating around in the world like a ghost. Or that he simply existed as a piece of furniture and people only interacted with him when they needed something from him. It was as if God had forgotten to give him a story and he had simply disappeared into the vague descriptions like ‘classmates’ or ‘neighbors’ or ‘town residents’.

So, Dylan simply floated through his morning classes as ‘a classmate’ in other people’s stories until he was able to munch on the little piece of love he had in his life; a crustless cucumber sandwich made by his aunt.

“Dylan?”

Dylan tried not to seem as startled by his own name as he truly was when it beckoned him to look up into the eyes of a girl he had never seen before. She had short red hair and freckles. “Yes?” He answered.

“I heard you were one of the few to get a good grade this past math test.” The girl told him as a means of explanation, although she spoke a bit strangely.

“I did moderately well…” Dylan said, unsure, eyes darting away from her face as much as he could without appearing to be rude. He was well aware of why he had not managed to get onto anyone’s social radar. Dylan had absolutely no clue how to connect to people. It was as if every time he tried to ask a question to get past the surface of a conversation, something stopped him. Like a magical lump in his throat. Then, at some point in his life, he simply gave up.

“Alright, well,” the girl said, laughing a little bit through her words, “I moved here a few months ago and I’ve been struggling with the subject of math ever since.” She stared at him with big hazel eyes, waiting for him to fill in his expected portion of polite conversation, but although Dylan knew what piece of furniture he would be asked to be, he could not bring himself to open his mouth.

“In any way,” the girl continued, now eyeing him curiously, “I just wanted to see if you would help me by means of tutoring. Perhaps today, after school, at your place?”

With two elegant blinks of her lashes and a sweet smile to follow, Dylan could tell that, although this girl spoke a tad strangely compared to his other schoolmates, she knew her way around in the world. Not one to struggle against what life swallowed him into next, Dylan nodded.

“I can help you.” He confirmed, and then she wrote down his address on a page in one of her notebooks, and promised him that she would be at his house no later than 5:15pm.

“My name is Lauren.” She told him, and then she left him alone to focus on his cucumber sandwich.

Dylan could not find Lauren anywhere during the remainder of his lunch break, or in the school halls, or the entirety of the day, really. He did not find this very strange, as there were many people who did not eat their lunch in the dining hall, and they had also never shared the same classes before this introduction.

Dylan did not mind to think too much about it anyway, as he knew from previous experiences that he would disappear from her mind’s eye the moment she got what she wanted—and then he would go back to floating through life.

Not giving it much thought did not equal not putting in much effort. For however much his efforts were wasted, Dylan still attempted to leave a good impression. When he got home from school, he organized the objects thrown about the living room, he cleaned the downstairs bathroom, he laid out the necessary items on the dining table. He even created a little snack platter with some fruits and crackers. He was about to boil the water for tea, when the doorbell rang him out of his daze.

Dylan had opened the door not much further than the size of a teamug, when it was pushed open from the other side, and slammed back into its hinges with a heaving Lauren leaning against it on the inside.

“I was followed.” She said, urgently, and, again, with those wide eyes. Dylan got the impression that he should understand what she was talking about, but his brain lagged in said understanding.

“By… by who? What?” He started noticing a shimmer around her and he knew it had been there before, he just had not processed it somehow. It was a strange shimmer, as if she wasn’t completely real, just her hair and her face. It was as if her body was something his brain could not completely understand.

“Darius, not again.” Lauren had an exhausted disappointment in her voice and it deepened equally as much as Dylan’s confusion.

This was when the banging started on the front door. Banging so loud, that Dylan was surprised he had not yet seen the front door split in half.

“Dylan, help!” Yelled his aunt’s voice, and at the sound of her distress, he sprung for the front door, trying to push Lauren aside.

“Darius!” Lauren yelped, fighting back for control over the front door. The part of her body Dylan could not process must be incredibly strong, because he could not push her off. “Darius, stop!”

“Move!” He yelled at her. As if his voice held weight, she was shoved away from the front door, and not a moment later, it was broken open.

His aunt rushed towards him, while a unit of officers streamed in, holding Lauren at gunpoint.

“Oh, Dylan, I’m so glad you are safe.” She sighed into his hair, her chin resting on top of Dylan’s head in her embrace.

“Darius, listen to me.” Lauren hissed desperately with her hands up, as the officers encircled her.

“Don’t listen to her, Dylan. Just focus on me and this will all be over soon.”

“Darius, remember. Try to feel your body.”

—Dylan or Darius, whatever his name, could not focus on anything through the haze of what was happening. What made sense and what did not were no longer decipherable. He had started getting a prodding headache and could barely focus on anything beside the contrast of his double name.

The officer who had circled around Lauren now made to grab her and held her with her arms around her back.

“Darius, you’re not feeling your body!” Lauren yelled, desperate tears now starting to escape from her eyes. 

Darius was indeed not feeling his body. He had no idea how it felt to feel his body, but this focus on the lack of body sensation set off a tingling in his right arm. It spread, like a fast and angry fire, through the rest of his body. As much as Dylan tried to stop it, because his vision started to blur everything together and he lost the comforting sensation of his aunt’s hug to something else, he couldn’t.

Like popping a balloon, Dylan blinked. Once, twice. Lauren was hovering in front of his face, heavy at work on something. She looked up into his eyes, but he was more focused on being able to see her arms moving in slightly shimmering black sleeves.

“Lila.” She said, and to Dylan it made sense that this was her name now. “Now, pull.”

Lila had loosened some heavy constraints off of his wrist so that he could pull it out and as strange as it was to feel himself direct his wrist, he did just so.

The banging flooded from Darius’ dream into his real world, but this banging was on a heavy metal door. His other wrist was freed and Dylan could move off of the chair he was sitting on.

“Darius, we must now jump out of the window.”

Darius’ head hurt and everything around him felt too sharp and detailed. A tug on his arm led him to stumble towards a big window opposite from the metal door. He stumbled back a step when Lila shattered the window in front of him without a moment of hesitation, prompting the banging on the door to suddenly grow in its volume.

“Go on.” She urged him, gesturing towards the new opening in the building. The view of the outside was made up of trees so small and so far, Darius went instantly nauseous from how high up they were.

A quickly intensifying creaking of metal, accompanied by grunts and yelling, urged him forward, towards the edge of the building. He could feel Lila take hold of his hand and, with another gentle tug, they both stepped off of the building.

Panic rose his heartbeat up to his cheeks, but he could still feel the block in his throat. He couldn’t scream, and his head throbbed, and then Lila disappeared from the corner of his eye, and he was falling all by himself.

“FOCUS, DARIUS!” He could hear yelling from behind him. Then, with a rush of wind, Lila was facing him, falling with him to the ground—except, there were two colorful wings growing out of her back. They were flapping around in the wind and making her move side to side.

Behind her, the ground was coming nearer, faster.

“Come on, focus on your wings. We can still get this one.”

Darius tried to do what Lila asked of him, but he could not seem to focus. Everything seemed to just be happening to him and it was all so different from the life he woke up from. He was in the middle of a tugging war and the confusion froze him up.

“I—” A piercing headache stopped him from what he was going to say.

Lila turned her head towards the ground, seemed to almost sigh, and then flapped her wings, disappearing from his view. 

Darius could now see the trees grow bigger, and he could see a dot become the head of a man. This, finally, shook him up a little, and he tried to concentrate on having wings. He was too late. He felt not much more than a tingle on his back before the ground was not even a second from his face.

Wham.

Darius’ body felt like it was pulled tightly in all directions as he hovered above the ground, as high as the grass could reach. A moment later, he fell the small distance, unharmed and without pain. The experience of presumed death had shaken him up a little, at least enough to know where he was and why.

Lila landed next to him and started towards the man he had seen while he was falling.

“Look, Sir, we were out of the building even before they were through the metal door—”

“Not good enough.” He interrupted Lila, then turned his head to address Darius, who was now on his feet, dusting himself off.

“Your mental strength is still five points below the required score, and eight points below average.”

The man was Greatmaster Greenfiel. They were taking one of their last examinations.

“We have done nothing but achieve scores far above average on all—”

“Not good enough.” Greatmaster Greenfiel interrupted, again. “Or do you mean to question why these examinations take place, Miss Dornlaen?” Lila looked like she wanted to continue fighting their Greatmaster on the subject, so Darius tried his best to interrupt.

“Sorry.” He managed to wring out, albeit a bit softly. Greatmaster Greenfiel looked at him the way only a father can look at his son—

“You can return to the cluster, Miss Dornlaen and Mister Greenfiel.”

—disappointed.

© 2026 Carmen Elisabeth Heringa
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means outside the website aneyemo.nl without written permission from the publisher.