Zenobia twisted all around, marveling at her surroundings. One minute she stood in a room in Jennifer's house and within the next she found herself and Willow out in the open where the sky had stars twinkling at them. A perfectly normal thing to see if one ignored the green dome circling the two of them and wisps of smoke drifting in and out of their vision.
Her so-called grandmother cleared her throat, catching her attention. Zenobia crossed her arms as she felt the little hairs on her arms tingle. There was an outline on Willow, a little glow, that reminded her of the wisps. She didn't like how much it reminded her of the shadow man.
"Your questions can be answered freely here."
"Where are we?"
"A...hmm how to put it? This is my realm, a personal space like many others my kind have created."
"Um...what?" Willow huffed as she crossed her arms, unconsciously mirroring her granddaughter. Zenobia watched as the elderly lady hummed to herself while tapping harsh wrinkled fingers across her skin. The behaviors so like her own it unnerved the teen a bit.
Was this what people saw when she got lost in thought or tried to articulate her words properly If so she owed whoever seemed uncomfortable with her presence a huge apology. Even if Willow had softer features than her, she still looked intimidating as the silence drew longer. After several moments of waiting, the old woman smashed her fist upon her palm, her expression brightening.
"Right! so think of this place like a house with high security on otherwise unsoiled land. I have no neighbors, no travelers to come into my territory so I can stay and go without disturbance. Only those with my permission can enter this place."
"You mentioned your kind?" Willow smirked at her before snapping her fingers. With a poof of smoke, she turned into a fox. Zenobia's fox...in her fluffy glory.
The old woman had the audacity to strut her adorable self forward, winding around her granddaughter's legs while still smirking. Zenobia's fingers twitched. She wanted to pet her, but that sounded so weird. It WAS weird!
"A spirit, powerful enough to shapeshift and mingle around mortals with ease, just like my ancestors before me. Just like your father."
"My father was a spirit?"
"Technically half spirit. He was the result of a fling I had with a human lover." Zenobia stared, absorbing the information like an overstuffed sponge. Her father was a spirit and that made her one too?
"What do you mean by spirit?" There were way too many types of spirits. Too many definitions that all depended on the person asked. Guardians, vengeful ghosts, lost wandering souls, possessive ancestors...all of those could fit. What category did they fall under?
"We're not dead if that's what you're wondering. We are an entirely different race that's not bound to any one realm. We can come to and from planes of existence much like ghosts, but we have form. We can materialize into anything we desire. I suppose the natives of good old Chizel territory would have the best description."
Great. So, Zenobia's father's side of the family were shapeshifters that did what they wanted, when they wanted. The tricksters of the supernatural. And her father...that was a particularly sore spot she really wasn't sure if she could handle getting answers for. Still, this was a chance she couldn't let slip by.
"Why did he leave? Why did he hide this from me?! Does mom know?"
Willow changed forms seamlessly. Her smile was absent, replaced with a long sad sigh. She didn't seem surprised in the slightest at the rapid questions fired off. The older woman had spent the last several years preparing herself for this moment.
She practiced and prepared for both of their reactions. Though she had to say of all the questions asked so far, she was surprised that Zenobia would bring up her mother. Of course that surprised Zenobia as well.
"No. She never did, which isn't a surprise since that woman is the type to deny anything illogical even if it smacked her in the face. But the rules of our existence certainly don't help her case."
"Rules?" Her grandmother nodded. She waved Zenobia to follow her as she scampered to the edge of the dome. The teen ran to catch up, pleasantly surprised her leg didn't jolt in pain from the action. She caught up quickly, just as they stepped into the smoke. Willow's wrinkles left, showing young, smooth skin.
Her grandmother now looked like she was in her thirties. Her hair that was originally in a tight bun dropped, revealing lush silver locks. The only thing that remained the same was her eyes. They twinkled in mirth but there were shadows along the edges, a haunted tint.
Beyond the smoke Zenobia found the two of them in some sort of study. With a few glowing spheres hanging from the ceiling, she could see clearly. Like how the books along the shelves that were practically the walls were organized by the colors of their covers. Beyond the books sat a large desk neatly piled with papers with several padded chairs set up around the room.
Were it not for the stench of something rotting and a giant pool of swirling black water, Zenobia would've quite liked being here. But the smell that she couldn't even find the source of (and really didn't want to) was atrocious. She didn't even bother trying to understand what the deal was with the water.
With a frown she stayed in place while Willow just marched on. Young fingers traced the edges of the books along the walls, tipping and pushing them all the while she kept moving. Finally, after a minute or two of searching, she pulled out a book. With nimble expertise, she flipped through the pages, meeting Zenobia's gaze with a blank expression.
"Unlike humans, spirits like us come and go like a breezy day. We don't have a physical body to tie us to the ground, as such our sense of time and space are…complicated."
"What does that mean?"
"When we're in the mortal realm, intermingling with humans, we exist as if we always belonged. But the moment we leave? We don't." Zenobia was going to retort by repeating her question when she stopped.
Willow waited with a raised eyebrow. As if daring her kin to challenge her claim. It was the same way Zenobia's science teacher, Mr. Delois, reacted to cheeky students. When they thought they could take control of the room, he'd rile them up, daring whatever student that thought they knew better figure out the answer on their own.
And though it took a few moments, she did. Zenobia exhaled at the realization when she took in her grandmother's younger form again.
"I can't have you here corrupting your sister. From now on you will be living with your grandmother Willow." Zenobia couldn't think—couldn't breathe. Nothing was making a lick of sense to her.
Who the hell was grandmother Willow? Unless it was from her father's side, as far as she knew, there were no grandparents.
"People lose their memories of you…"
"We don't belong to this world, so the world forgets about us the moment we leave."
"But mom remembered you."
"Only because I stepped back in. It's sort of like hibernation. If we're gone those memories are dormant, unable to do more than sit around. If it hasn't been too long, those stored memories come back, but there's more to it."
No wonder she called it complicated. The sixteen-year-old was barely able to follow all this. But she supposed it all made sense in a way. If Willow didn't pop back in, then the old hag wouldn't have ever mentioned her, let alone tell Zenobia that she was going to be living with her.
"So, mom hasn't always planned on getting rid of me?" The spirit scowled at the question. Her irises darkened while a snarl formed on her lips. Zenobia blinked at the sudden shift.
"I pray for her life she hasn't. But as far as I know, no, I had called her about a week or two ago, reigniting her memories. In her mind, I'm her husband's eccentric mother who is always traveling, but too much of a snoop to leave her be when it comes to asking about my grandchildren's well-being."
"Why did you call?"
"Because I was worried. I've been watching over you all these years. I saw how your father's disappearance hurt you, how your mother's misplaced anger wore you down. Once you started having your nightmares…I could no longer stand back watching over from a distance."
"You make it sound like nightmares aren't normal." Willow calmly made her way into the pool, not even answering the girl. Which in itself was an answer that Zenobia's dreams weren't normal. But it wasn't like she could even remember…
"I'm dreaming about spirits, aren't I?"
"No, my dear. Rather spirits are trying to take over your dreams."
With her body submerged halfway in, the pool glowed, shimmering despite looking like a fountain of ink. The water floated away from the pool, before turning into that familiar fire Zenobia saw before. It surrounded them showing the same faces as before. Mainly and most importantly, the fire revealed Zenobia's father and Ms. Mude's brother.
"You are part spirit, which gives you abilities to see and manipulate other places of existence. But you are untrained to handle it, as your father believed he would be able to protect you…and that has come with consequences."
"What consequences?"
"There is a spirit that feasts on souls through their dreams. He entraps them in visions of his own design, stealing bits of them day by day, before taking them entirely. He feeds off of their negativity, encouraging reckless behavior…until it is too late."
Suddenly the two heard ear-piercing laughter. It rattled Zenobia's bones. It caused her flesh to prickle with goosebumps. She wrapped her arms around her thin frame as if to protect herself from the discomfort.
More flames gathered from the pool creating a new figure. From the moment Zenobia was able to pick out the nonchalant, yet intimidating stance, she recognized him. It was the shadow man. The one who attacked her.
"His name is Demizi. A powerful entity that since the dawn of time sweeps across the realms to absorb his victims." Zenobia never heard of such a monster. For all her research into other cultures and myths, this was one terrifying creature that escaped her.
"You won't find records of him. At least not with that particular name." Willow offered the girl a small smile, knowing her train of thought. With a wave of her hand, the image of the Demizi vanished.
"He is the reason masks became such an essential part of your realm's traditions. As the masks protect you from his clutches."
"But how?"
"You tell me. What are three things masks do in your society, Zenobia?" Three things? The teen knew this was a trick question. It wasn't about what today's society standards for masks her grandmother was asking. Instead, she wanted her to dive back into her history lessons.
"Masks…they hide your emotions from others; they give you an alternate identity and show status." In the older eras, masks weren't always worn by everyone, not like it was nowadays. The rich had elaborate masks, decorated to show off their wealth. Meanwhile commoners had theirs done more practical for the long hours of work they did.
"That is true to an extent, but you need to think deeper, my dear." A few more pages in the book were flipped before Willow raised her hand again. The flames circled around Zenobia, tickling her cheek like a blade of grass before returning to the pool. From flames to black liquid once more, it settled around the spirit.
"Back in the past spirits crossed realms to cause far more mischief. It was harder for mortals to deny our existence as we raised havoc on their homes and crops. They needed protection from creatures like Demizi who fed off dreams. They had to hide themselves from those who played mind games with illusions."
"And the masks did that? That's why carvers are so important?"
"Not quite." Zenobia frowned, not understanding what all of this meant. There was not a single civilization that didn't have some sort of history involving mask carvers. As far as status went, they were considered higher ranked, equivalent to a wealthy aristocrat all across the globe.
"Think about it. If spirits and all manner of magic folk were running around causing mayhem, who would be the ones to handle it?" Willow leaned towards her slightly with a taunting grin. Her eyes shimmered briefly as she waited for her kin's response.
"The shamans?"
"Shamans, witches, spirit mediums, priests…whatever the name, those that dangled in the fine line between realms. Those were the first carvers. They performed rituals, created potions, charms and of course masks. Though potions and charms fell out of style, masks became very popular and had the best protection against our kind."
Zenobia flinched as bright flames flashed before her, just inches from her face. The flames that suddenly roared quieted into little flickers, growing smaller and smaller until it disappeared completely. What floated in the flames place was a mask. Her mask.
With trembling fingers, the girl reached, holding it in her hands as she absorbed the details. She couldn't believe it; it looked as if her father had just finished it for her today. No paint or bits of wood chipping off, none of the fading lines or scratches from the years of loving abuse could be seen. Even more amazing was that it was bigger, if Zenobia put it on, she knew it would fit perfectly.
"But how…"
"I will get into your father's little mask hobby at a later point but the short of everything is that your father knew danger was coming, so he imbued all his love into it. It should've grown with you, never to wither like it did, but he never had the chance to finish his enchantments." Willow snarled as the illusion of Demizi formed again.
She slashed at the fake before an image of Zenobia's father formed right alongside him. Her palm cupped at his transparent cheek. And Zenobia's breath hitched at his features. He looked just like how she remembered him.
"Demizi wanted you. Half-breeds are rare, powerful entities, and quarter breeds even more so, but your father intervened. They battled. At the cost of his life, your father weakened him enough to where he could not cross realms until now. Now Demizi is back, ready to take you. Your friend with the dog, and your father's magic are what prevented your abduction."
Zenobia clutched the mask tight to her chest as she released her tears. So much lunatic nonsense spewed from Willow's lips and yet the younger girl believed every word. And that made it so much harder to keep her composure. For so long she's had to listen to people speak ill of her father.
Many whispered within earshot on how he abandoned her and her family. She was told time and time again that he was a bad omen who perfectly represented the stereotypes of those with black eyes. Even her own mother insulted him, blaming him for all their troubles. It went against every single precious memory she had.
Though Zenobia refused to believe the cruel words that wanted to ensnare her in bitterness, it was hard to ignore them. Every year she waited with hope for a letter to arrive from him. And every year, she had to bite back her disappointment and reassure Zora that he did love them coming up with whatever plausible excuse she could imagine. She believed but was always told otherwise.
For once someone stood before her with a sincere gaze and confirmed that love. To know the truth, it stung like bee stings to the chest, but she was happy despite the pain. He loved Zenobia. He never had any intention of leaving them. And it was because of that love that kept her from being kidnapped last night.
She fell to her knees, crying away all the sadness and underlying resentment. She let everything go. She wept like she was a toddler again, now embraced by the grandmother she never really knew but who had always kept watch over her.