Chapter One

Keaira Elliot was fifteen years old, and had spent the majority of her life in an orphanage. She was a soft spoken, polite girl, who always obeyed the rules set out by the nuns who ran the house, and never spoke back when she was angry. She was a plain looking girl, with wavy mouse brown hair and large blue eyes, and altogether rather un-extraordinary in all other ways.

Keaira had assumed, naturally, that she was the product of a horrible man and a poor, defenseless woman, who upon giving birth, had no money to support the baby, and thus left her at the doors of Saint Elizabeth Seton’s Orphanage for Girls.

Her surprise, therefore, was completely explainable when ten days before her sixteenth birthday, a letter arrived from her father.

Keaira never received letters. There was no one in the outside world who remembered her well enough to write, and by the time her first letter arrived, she had not checked the little slot in the wall where all the girls mail was put for eleven years. (Perhaps it should be fifteen years, since the first four years of her life found her incapable of reaching the slot anyway).

“Miss Elliot,” Sister Mary-Anna approached Keaira on September ninth, after their dinner. “An article of mail has been sitting in the box for five days, rotting away.”

“Mail for me?” Keaira didn’t believe it.

“Yes, of course for you,” Sister Mary-Anna was not the most patient of the sisters- she never liked to repeat herself. “Her it is, and please be more prudent about these things in the future.”

“Yes Sister,” Keaira murmured, dazedly taking the envelope and watching as the woman strode away.

A few seconds later, she looked down at the letter in her hands.

“Is that a letter?” Lisa, one of Keaira’s good friends asked, leaning over the table, trying to see over Keaira’s shoulder.

“Yes,” Keaira replied, a little startled at how surprised she sounded.

“Well who’s it from?” Lisa asked impatiently, leaning further over the table. “A boy?”

“I don’t know,” Keaira said, staring at the envelope, and her name written fancily on it.

Lisa paused, and then sighed. “Have fun staring at it, K.” She flopped off the table and walked around to her friend, putting a hand on Keaira’s shoulder. “You might want to open it sometime in this century,” she whispered, chuckling at Keaira’s surprised look. “Have fun.” She walked away, and Keaira held up the envelop.

A little reverently, she carefully tore open the envelop, and pulled out two sheets of paper.

To Keaira, whose life until this moment had been lacking much excitement and intrigue, this moment was like a dream.

The paper on top was a letter.

To My Precious Daughter, it began.

I am horrified to tell you that it took me twelve years to track you down. This is no fault of your own, so please don’t feel bad about it. It is merely a severe fault in your mother’s communication with me. When she handed me your brother, she failed to mention that he had a twin sister. Since that time, I have done everything in my power to find you.

I don’t know if your mother has ever contacted you before, Keaira, but I hope that you will believe me when I tell you that it was she who left you in the shadow world on the steps of an orphanage, not I.

Thus, I don’t know how much you know about your heritage, so please forgive me if you’re already aware of what I am about to tell you. If you already know it, you can skip it, I won’t mind.

Your mother is a queen. She rules in the land to the west, and although I hate to tell you this, Keaira, she is not a woman who is renowned for her kindness and open heart. Her armies have scourged most of the land, leaving only a few free havens left. The west is no longer a safe place under her greed and cold heart. I would like to tell you that she wasn’t always like this, but seventeen years ago, when we first met, I was entranced by Lila’s beauty and rank.

As for me, Keaira, I am a mage. I have been one for many years, and I am now the founding father and headmaster of the only Mage Academy in the known world. I say known world because who knows what the nonhumans have in the way of magical education. I had assumed, for so many years, that you were hidden in our world, the world that you were born in and the one that I live in. It wasn’t until all of my searches ended futily that I realized the possibility of you being hidden in the shadow world.

Truthfully, I admit that I haven’t studied that world very much, so I don’t know it’s customs or cultures, but I hope that you read this language (I actually hadn’t thought of that before!) and can communicate with the map that I sent you.

It is a good enough map, although he got part of the spell wrong, and can’t show the letters Y or J. I assume that you’ll understand him well enough without those letters.

Using him, Keaira, I am very hopeful that you will return to your proper world. We have been searching for so long, my daughter… you cannot imagine the anticipation or the love that we all have for your return.

Please, Keaira, consider my offer. You are in a dangerous position in the shadow world, under your mother’s eye. The only love she holds for you is to make you a copy of her. On your sixteenth birthday, I assume that she will come for you, as is tradition. Don’t let her catch you, my daughter.

Trust the map.

Your Ever Loving Father,

Kennan Tervenkae

For many long minutes, Keaira didn’t know what to do.

Her first thought was that this was a hoax- a mean spirited joke meant to make her believe stupid things about magic and fairy tale queens.

Her second thought was more frightening. What if this was real? What if she actually did have an evil hearted mother who was a queen and a twin brother and a father who ran a magic school?

Her third thought was about the map. Her father (if that was who had truly written the letter) had referred to it almost as if it was a person in its own right, which was ridiculous, of course… she held up the map.

It looked ordinary enough, save for the blaring fact that it showed no place that Keaira had ever heard of.

“Risseth Mountains?” She murmured, peering at the map curiously.

“Miss Elliot.” One of the sisters stood above her, a broom in hand, smiling patiently. “Dear, dinner’s been over for fifteen minutes.”

“Oh,” Keaira stood up hastily, embarrassed, “I’m sorry,” she murmured, quickly making her way out of the dining room and towards the dormitories. At this time, she knew most of the other girls would be enjoying their free time- either spending it outside or talking in random areas in the building.

She climbed onto her bunk (she was on the bottom) and unfurled the map again.

“Trust the map,” she murmured, tracing the lines of a river that until then she hadn’t thought existed.

“It’s good advice,” a voice whispered.

Keaira jerked up, and looked around. No one else was near her. There were a few younger girls talking, but they were on the other side of the room; too far away to hear her, or whisper something. Feeling foolish, Kearia glanced under her bed, but there was no one hiding there, and she had been positive that no one was on Lisa’s bed, above her.

“Who spoke?” She whispered back, her face burning. Keaira had never been one who believed in the silly fairy tales and fantasy books that some of the girls read. For her, the world was what she could see, hear, and feel from it. There were no fairies or little elves, just practical ways to apply for scholarships and dress nicely. Now finding herself in a situation where the answer wasn’t right in front of her, and the answer probably didn’t fit into the formulations of the modern world, she felt ridiculous, and a little frightened.

“I spoke,” the voice whispered, and Keaira realized that it was decidedly male. She blushed even more. “I, being the map. Zirrach.”

Keaira stared at the map. “Th-the map?” She asked quietly, furtively glancing around the room. The group of girls had left, leaving her alone.

“Yes, the map,” the voice said, still in that whisper. It sounded a little irritable. “Zirrach.”

“Z-z-Zirrach?” She tried out the word. “Is that your name?” She whispered, staring at the piece of paper in her hand.

“What do you think?” The map, Zirrach, demanded in its quiet voice.

“I-I-I…” Keaira couldn’t keep the stammer out of her voice, “I-I’ve never uh… talked to a….to a…map before,” she confided, suddenly feeling ridiculous at her situation.

“Neither have I,” the map said a little snappishly. “Now that we’ve established this, I need to get you home.”

Keaira couldn’t resist asking. “How do you talk?” She asked, her face flushing again. “I-I mean, you d-don’t have a-a-a… you know… mouth or lungs or anything.”

The map was silent for a few seconds, and Keaira wondered if she had offended it or something.

Finally, it said, “How about we just concentrate on getting you back to your father.”

“O-okay,” Keaira muttered, ashamed. “Sorry.”

Zirrach ignored the apology. He hated it when people got all simpery and apologetic over him, but he knew he’d just get more annoyed if he yelled at the girl and she started crying.

Zirrach hated criers.

“Are you ready to leave?” he asked, still in the whisper of a voice.

“Leave?” It hadn’t actually occurred to Keaira that her father had wanted her to leave the orphanage.

“Yes,” Zirrach replied, still annoyed. “You know, stand up, walk out?”

“I can… I can do that?” Keaira whispered, more to herself than to the map. She had never thought of it before. It had never occurred to her.

“If your legs work, then yes, you can,” Zirrach replied irritably.

Keaia sat back, letting the map drop onto her map, and thought about the prospect. She hated breaking rules. She hated breaking rules because she hated getting in trouble. However, reason told her that if she found her father, no one from the orphanage would know where she’d gone, and they could never punish her. The thought, despite all that, was still enticing.

“Right now?” She asked, picking up the map again and staring at the lines and colors. She realized that it had changed sometime during their conversation, and now showed a subway map.

“If you feel like it,” Zirrach replied, becoming a little bored. It was true, he hadn’t volunteered for the job of taking Keaira to her father, but circumstances liked to place him in positions that he’d rather not be in. Zirrach mulled on this as Keaira dithered, and supposed that in the future, he’d need to work on not being put doing things he disliked.

Keaira took in a deep breath. “Zirrach,” she asked quietly, “can you tell me how to get out of here? To my father?”

Zirrach had been wondering when she’d ask. “Here’s the map,” he said, and the face of the map transformed.

Keaira held it up. “The orphanage,” she said, following the roads and lines, curious when Washington Street lead to a forest. She was rather certain that it didn’t. “Is this correct?” She asked a little suspiciously.

“Yes, of course it is,” Zirrach said. “Are you going or not?”

“What’s Ellen River?” Keaira wondered, ignoring the last part of Zirrach’s question.

“Yellen River,” Zirrach grumbled. “I can’t show Y’s.”

“Why not?” Keaira asked, slipping off her bed and glancing around the dormitory again. Still empty.

“I scratched myself when I was performing the spell,” Zirrach said, as if this was the obvious answer.

Keaira was surprised. She was hardly acquainted with magic, but she was startled to discover that Zirrach wasn’t usually a map. “What sort of being are you?” She asked, trying to be mindful that in fairytales not everything was human.

“A handsome being,” Zirrach replied, a little snidely. He was sick of Keaira already. She was too slow and from what he’d seen, not too bright either. “Now, are you going to stand around all day and ask me stupid questions or get going?”

“I’m going,” Keaira muttered, a little hurt by his tone, despite how quiet his voice still was.

It didn’t occur to Keaira until she was hiding behind a statue in the main hallway, that she hadn’t said goodbye to any of her friends. She couldn’t imagine what it’d be like when they came in from outside in half an hour, and discovered that she was gone.

“Now what is it?” Zirrach asked tersely from her hand.

“N-nothing,” Keaira stammered, ashamed that she was being so heartless. They were her friends after all. Girls who she’d regarded as family for as long as she could remember. Life without them was a disturbing thought.

“Yeah, like hell it’s nothing,” Zirrach grumbled, too quietly for Keaira to hear. It was all for the better anyway, because she was always a little scandalized when someone mentioned hell in a non religious way. “Are you going?”

Keaira nodded, not caring if Zirrach could see that or not, and peeked around the edge of the statue. The hallway was empty for the moment, and Keaira took her chances. Saying a silent goodbye to Lisa and everyone else, she made it to the front door, and took in a deep breath. This was it. This was… the start and the end. Slowly, she pulled the door open, glanced over her shoulder, and slipped outside.

o

o

o

A/N: Hmmm… so… I don’t know how many of you have read the original of this story “Wind’s Flame” but if you haven’t, please don’t, because it’s not worth it. I have a strange and quite passionate dislike for my old stories (these being ones that are older than two years) and… I just lost my train of thought. Hm. Yes. Eat your veggies.

Right. I know that this isn’t in my usual style cough cough funny but that’s ok. It’s always time to try something boring!

Well. Enjoy. Hopefully my second take on Wind’s Flame will not be dumb and have Keaira and Zirrach falling in love two pages after they meet each other. I also hope that this story won’t be totally LAME like the other one. See? I told you that I hate my old stories.

If you read some of my other stuff (like Finding Time to Play with Pink Duct Tape and Killing Off Old Man Grumpy) I’m sorry that I haven’t written more. I’m such an ADD writer…but that’s the way to be.

So. Anyway. I don’t know why your still reading this, because I’m not sure why I’m writing this. Right. Have a happy week!

Thea