The mirror was singing again.

Marla's eyes were wide awake even though they felt hot and burning with the need of sleep. Her body wasn’t rigid, but it was close. Her room was dark and she couldn’t see a thing aside from the huge mirror that was placed – rather stupidly – just a few metres away from her bed. She couldn’t stop looking at it because (oh, she hoped it was just her imagination) it was glowing.

And it was still singing.

Marla had checked the streets a few minutes before. Those songs definitely didn't come from the hobo that lived down there, because she found him sleeping soundly. This time he didn't snore, though. And even though she usually hated hearing his snoring, now she longed to, so that she could be distracted from this mirror.

It was a gift from her late grandmother, Glenda. Out of blue, the grandmother with whom she used to be so close gave her the mirror, after about eleven years of deliberate estrangement. Just three days after that, her obituary came up. At first, of course, Marla was glad to receive the gift. She had loved Grandma Glenda as a child. True, she had forgotten most of the things they had done when she was younger, but she did remember her fondness for the old lady. When she reached the age of six, Grandma Glenda suddenly refused to meet her and moved to somewhere far away. Even her parents couldn't interpret the reason behind this sudden separation. The first time she ever tried to contact Marla was a year ago, twelve days late of her sixteenth birthday. She sent a note and a huge mirror. It said only:

'Happy birthday. Be prepared for life,' and that's all. No 'love and kisses', no 'hugs'. It was almost as though she was sending a card to a total stranger.

Despite the twang of pain it brought her, she kept it. And when Glenda had died, she was pretty much ambivalent about it. It must be have been her school work. Or her declining love for the old lady. Or maybe it was because Marla had evolved into a heartless bitch. Either way, she couldn't tell.

She lived her life like she always had, like she hadn't lost anything. It might have sounded weird, but with the mirror inside her room, she felt like her grandmother hadn't died at all, and instead had just moved in to the mirror; watching her, keeping an eye on her. It was stupid of course, and she wouldn't confide it even in her diary.

CREEEEE-AAAAKK

The mirror started making those sounds again.

Marla groaned in agony. It was two o'clock right now, and she'd have to be up for school at eight o’clock sharp. For the last few months, she'd been sleep-deprived, and having only six hours sleep wasn't enough to compensate the major sleep debts she'd built.

She tried closing her eyes, but that made her hearing sense more acute. Marla wasn't sure what came to her liking more: hearing some mindless wails, or seeing lights – and occasionally, heads of people – in the mirror, so she chose both.

When she told this to her friend Francesca, she immediately called her an idiot for not calling some kind of a supernatural Madame, nor throwing the mirror away.

"This thing is evil!! I'm sure of it!" she had said while looking disdainfully at the mirror. "Maybe someone put an evil spirit within it and she's waiting to eat you!"

"She?" Marla had questioned. "What makes you so sure that the thing is female?"

"I don't know." Francesca had started putting on make-up again, adding layers over layers and layers and layers. "Most horror movies have female ghosts."

"It's not a ghost." Without thinking, Marla automatically had said that.

Now, it was Francesca’s turn to give her the incredulous look. Her heavily mascara-ed eyes looked so dark and big. "Now, what makes you so sure that it's not a ghost?"

Marla hated to copy Francesca’s actions, but she couldn't help it. "I don't know."

For one second, Marla saw her friend was thinking, something that Francesca Burton rarely, if ever, did. The thought vanished when the brunette suddenly start applying more mascara. "Oh…" was all she said. "So when are you going to trash it?"

That was the last conversation Marla had ever had with anyone regarding this particular mirror.

At night, though, she wondered about what Francesca had said. Yes, why couldn't she just throw it away? It was causing her so much trouble. It prevented her from sleeping. It disturbed her study-time with its never-ending wails. And it always made her looked stupid because it always stopped doing whatever it was doing when someone else barged into the room.

It was almost as if the mirror was playing games with her.

Marla herself couldn't find the logical answer for this. But she believed that she was alright with that. The mirror was staying, and no matter how bothersome it would be, she'd survive.

-

-

-

In the morning, Marla was the first to get hold of the coffee. She woke up earlier than usual, at six o'clock, and couldn't get up nor move from her bed. The mirror was quiet that time, though Marla somehow could see or imagine – she didn't know – some kind of blue-black liquid inside it.

She tried not to think about it and just waited until her alarm rang. When the sound she expected finally came, she immediately gained control of her body and jumped off her bed.

Coffee was the first thing she approached. All her life she had drank decaf, and the first time she had this inside her stomach, her whole body seemed to shake. Seven months later, she was a heavy coffee drinker and couldn't last a day without at least two cups of it.

Her father was the second to wake up. Adrian Farhey was a fit man with neat hair and neat beard. He was the typical good-looking, good-job, no-known-affairs, all-good man, which made him both appealing and boring to Marla. Her friends had constantly sobbed about their drinking/abusive/lazy-ass/jobless fathers, and she figured it would be nice if she could provide something unique.

Not that she was hoping for her father to be a living train-wreck, but a little flaw would be nice.

"Getting up early, Dear?" he asked.

She smiled and poured some coffee for him. "Yes, Dad. Want some?"

"Aww, thank you…" He took the cup and leant in to kiss her cheek. Marla leant on to him rather reluctantly.

"I’m going to take a shower,” she announced.

Adrian nodded while sipping. "And I'll be driving you to school."

Marla smiled again. "Thanks."

She took the stairs and closed the door behind her. It had always been weird here. She'd been living all her life in this house and yet she couldn't feel connected with any of her family members. Her father had always been unnecessarily nice to her, giving her gifts without her asking for it and had a bunch of surprises behind every door she'd open. Maybe it was to pique her love for him more, or maybe because he just needed to express the excess love. Either way, Marla wasn't comfortable with this. She was a Farhey, and yet she couldn't feel like one.

The mirror beside her was laughing now.

"Yeah, stop it before I smash you," she hissed to it. "You know I can and will."

The laughter faltered.

Marla rolled her eyes, and then she took her clothes and scurried to the bathroom. Adrian was ready at 7:15 every day, and that was only ten minutes away.

-

-

-

Adrian dropped Marla in front of the school gate, and that was after a series of fatherly talking about love and love and love, plus a kiss on the forehead. Marla got out of the car feeling alien, and the feeling didn't grow any better when she stepped into the school yard.

A few people greeted her, which she replied with either a smile or a nod. She wondered how these people could remember her name when she always had problems remembering theirs. She had never been popular, and she'd never had more than five people to know her before.

But then, at sixteen years old, finally puberty hit her, and it hit her hard. Her light brown hair grew out faster and smoother, gradually changing color to bright red. Her usually dull eyes became luminous and people now commented how her eyes reminded them of flashlights. Marla still didn't know whether that was a compliment or just clever mockery.

It was still weird, receiving these acknowledgements, but at least she'd learnt to deal with it. She went to her locker and got her books. There was a spider knitting its web in front of it, and Marla shushed her off.

"That's impolite!" said the spider, before it wobbled away.

"Yeah? And who's building a nest on someone's locker?" Marla retorted.

It took Marla a good ten seconds before everything kicked inside her head. Her eyes widened, and she took a double turn to the withdrawing spider.

"Did I just hear it talk?" she said to herself.

She heard some incoherent musings from the bug, but all got drowned out when a group of noisy boys and girls glomped her from behind, shouting her name in unison.

Marla tried to put on a smile, but she believed that any facial expression that she attempted would be to no avail because she just didn't mean it. These were the same people who used to make fun of her and her tendency to speak to the animals when they were kids. The same people who never tried to welcome a little bit of differentiation between them. But then, as her looks started to change and she now looked like she was one of them, they began recruiting her.

And yes, Marla got into the club, as the Beta-male – she forgot his real name – had said. But still, she never could exactly penetrate the circle, for the best she could do was lingering around it.

"Mary Bartie tonight, Marla? It'll be great," one of the ultra-blonde, ultra-muscled boys asked her. Marla remembered him as the guy who always tried to grab her ass whenever he thought she wouldn't mind it, which was pretty much every time they met.

"No, sorry," Marla said, she tried to look apologetic and started counting. One, two, three, four… oh, there were seven of them, none of which she could remember the names. "G-guys…" she finished awkwardly. "All seven of you."

Half of them were looking at her like she was crazy, but thankfully, no one bothered to push her. Even the blonde surfer only sighed and then walked away.

Well, that was a start.

Marla spent the rest of her school day as she usually did: it was boring and felt more like purgatory than a thrive for future success, but she'd always live to tell the tale after it. Or lack thereof. The teachers had always talked more than they needed to, and even though Marla wasn't going to be the salutatorian (that throne belonged to Ned over there who always frantically wanted to suck up every single teacher's asses), she knew she could understand everything they said. Other kids always asked too much or knew too less. It was tiring sometimes, especially when she was involved in a group project. Other people would rely on her for everything and the score was to be shared as equals. It shouldn’t bother her much, she supposed, because most of the time, these people were willing to pay, but still it tired her because she needed to explain so much to them, and talking to these ignorant people was something she'd very much like to avoid.

The last period of the classes had always been Marla's favorite, no matter how troublesome the subjects were. Usually, by this time of the day, the teachers had grown weary and made little to no effort to keep the lecture interesting, so it was easy to just zone out and do more important things: like staring out of the windows.

This habit of hers had always been peculiar to the others, and even herself. Marla loved windows, and the sky view, if there was any. She herself couldn't string out some words that would make the reason behind it logical, nor could she think she could make one up. One thing she knew was, she loved the windows and thinking that she was actually out there, flying, or doing something equally impossible.

The sky today was especially clear, and that lifted her mood. The other children were busy throwing crumpled paper at each other and they had thrown her some. But she was too preoccupied with the sky to care. There were birds flying by, and she almost could hear them saying hellos to her.

"Well hello, dear Marla," she imagined one would say.

"It is great to see you, Marla," another one would say.

It was much more fun than engaging in social human activity, or listening to the professor's lecture. She knew most of it, anyway. It seemed that she had the ability to learn things by only listening to the introduction. She had once doubted this ability, but then she started to rely on it and her grades were brought up significantly. She didn't really care whether she was going to get scholarships in college or not, but she knew that her parents would care, and would boast to their relatives about it. It was just something she was obliged to do, and since it didn't really take her time, she could do it.

Another bird passed by, this time a queer-looking bird with red tints on its tail. It was beautiful, that bird, and already Marla had sketched a conversation that would be going between them, had she been out there with it.

"You have beautiful tail, Alyssa," she thought she'd give the bird a name, and Alyssa sounded nice.

"Thank you, it matches the color of your hair," was what Alyssa would answer.

This conversation never took place, though, and instead this one came up.

"You imbecile! Listen to me!!" said someone near her.

Marla was brought out of her reverie.

She blinked when she saw no one in her eyeshot glaring at her.

'W-What the-?'

"Over here, you worthless fool! Over here!!" the voice shouted, more loudly now. It had a weird accent, an accent Marla had never heard before. It sounded masculine but somehow high-pitched, the type of voice that only talkative short men would have.

Marla looked around. She tried the group of jocks at the back, as they were the most likely to disturb her. But they only smiled politely, not laughing their asses off like they usually would when one of them initiated a conversation with a girl.

The preps? They were all too busy lifting their chins and comparing each other's clothes brands.

"On the other side of the window, fool!! Outside of the window!!"

Marla turned her head, and saw the beautiful bird from earlier was talking to her.

All she could do was blink and gape.

"Now, don't you give me that face," the bird said, its tail wagging in anger as it became more and more red with time. "We've been trying to contact you, but you never, never, never answer!!"

"W-We?" Marla questioned. "I-I'm sorry, who are 'we'?"

"Us!!" the bird sounded frustrated. "The Othermen! Have you not recognized us?"

Marla was silenced for a few seconds. She looked around, and had to sigh in relief when she realized that none of the pupils – or the professor – paid any attention to her. She knew that she was sometimes crazy for having imaginative conversations with animals, but actually getting to drown inside her own fantasy… that was something she wanted no one to see.

"I-I never knew that my mind was such a strong device," Marla spoke, mainly to herself. "But you're much more polite when I can control my brain, Alyssa…"

"Alyssa? You just called me Alyssa?!" the bird repeated with incredulity. "What kind of silly name is that?! Seriously, Maye, are you really one of us?"

Maye. That's what the bird called her, huh? Marla had thoughts of changing her name into something more unique when she was a kid, and one of her creative creations was Maye. To hear that someone actually called her that was... well, was satisfying. In a childish, stupid way.

"Then should I call you, ‘a bird with a penchant for profanity’?"

The bird looked like it was slapping its forehead, a feat Marla never expected her imagination would present.

"Our world is collapsing and you of all people are making a joke. Great. Just great."

That was the very first time Marla had ever seen a cute bird making a sarcastic comment.

"Perhaps I could help you, Demitrius," said another voice. It was much more sophisticated – the kind of voice that a radio announcer or an audiobook speaker would have. Marla looked over to see the owner of the voice, and this time she saw something much more normal: a boy her age. With looks just above average, like pretty much everyone else she'd seen.

"Y-Your highness!" the bird seemed to bow.

A weird cat with cut off ears jumped into the boy's figure. It had piercing blue eyes that made Martha feel the need to keep on staring into them.

"You should have addressed her the same way you do me, Demitrius," the boy said. And as he came closer, Marla realized that his chest, more specifically, the right of his chest, seemed to have lost something. Some kind of dark colored liquid was absorbed in his clothes. It looked like blood, but it was colored blue-purple.

"Hunter, you might want to stop the time," he said to the cat.

Hunter bowed to the boy as though he were his master, and then jumped to the rear-side of the window. It closed his eyes, much to Marla’s disappointment, and when he opened them, all of the noises in the room fell silent.

All noises, except for the sound of Marla's breathing.

Marla sucked in her breath, and it sounded prominent in her ears. She scanned around the class, and found that every single thing was being stopped. Or rather, it was being slowed down to extremities. If she was looking carefully, she could see the crumpled paper travelling millimeters per minute from the brunette's desk to the goth girl's desk. Everyone was speaking in a very slowed motion. This view reminded Marla of seeing an awkward photograph of everyone, a photograph everyone wanted to delete because they looked so ugly there.

That thought would have made her chuckle if this surreal scenario wasn't really happening in front of her.

This imagination had taken her far from her comfort zone. She tried to wake herself up, she pinched her arm, slapped her cheek, pulled her hair, anything that would make her feel the reality. But it was only pain that claimed her, not the reality.

"Are you done hurting yourself?" the boy asked tiredly. He smiled at her; a smile that would have been perfect if his eyes hadn’t looked so weary. He then opened the window so that he could peek through a head.

Marla tried to remember which floor she was on. It was the fourth.

Oh… my God…

"Are you flying?" she couldn't find anything more intelligent to say.

The boy only chuckled. His curly golden tresses moved with his head as he threw it back. Marla would have photographed this gorgeous view with her eyes if the boy hadn’t brought with him a cat that could stop time and a loquacious bird who could actually speak the human language.

"I am not, obviously," he answered. Then, he turned to show his back. "No wings. The gravitation around here is just amazing, and my little friend over here is capable of casting me some magic."

At the mention of his name, Demitrius held its head high, along with its red tail.

"W-Who are you?!" Marla jumped off her seat and took a few steps back. "You're no... you're not from here, right?"

"Here where?" Demitrius said, still with its head cocked to one side snobbishly. "We came from earth if that's what you mean by 'here'."

"T-Then… how come you…" she stared at the three creatures one by one. One could manipulate time, one could talk when it was not supposed to, and one could fly.

"We're from the other side of it," the boy was the first to explain. "I am Prince Demarkus, and these two are my loyal servants. Hunter," his hand went to caress the cat's head. "And Demitrius," his other hand teased the bird's chin. "You are, I believe, Maye 'Marla' Havykhan. The lost granddaughter of Lady Faye, the current ruler of the Fire land." Demarkus' dark eyes were eyeing her so intensely Marla thought she'd lost her ability to do just about everything.

"We need your help, Princess."