The Return
She was running.
Why was she running?
Behind her, trees toppled, the ground cracked, and the air trembled with unnatural calm. There was no need to flee—yet she ran anyway.
The silence pressed in, heavy as stone. It sought to smother, to subdue. She wanted to shatter it. So she ran harder.
At last, she saw it. A rainbow shimmer, dense and wide, shaped like a door. The closer she came, the more it pulsed, opening as though it waited only for her.
Her grin widened into something wild. Eyes gleaming, teeth bared, she looked half-mad beneath the glow.
The "door" parted, revealing a vast, perfect blue sky. Her heart thundered.
She sped forward. The earth rumbled, trees split, yet no wind stirred, no footsteps struck the soil. She could have walked. Still, she ran.
Her foot crossed the threshold—blue sky embraced her, and she embraced it back.
Behind her, the land healed. Broken ground smoothed. Fallen trees revived. Herbs sprouted where her feet had touched, in greens, pinks, and golds. All would wait for her return.
On the other side, a silver-edged golden path shimmered beneath that endless crystalline sky. She crouched on it, waiting until the rainbow door sealed shut. Only then did she rise with a sigh.
"Why must I always be so dramatic?" she muttered, forcing herself not to roll her eyes.
A voice answered. "How could I not await you, when I am the one who summoned you?"
She groaned. "And why have you summoned me this time?" She stretched, letting her body soak in the realm's light and warmth she had missed.
There was a pause, then a sigh. "Anis has disappeared."
Her joy froze. She whirled toward the voice, eyes narrowed. "Where… is… our sister?"
Another sigh. "We lost her in Sibbia. Struns believes Marce has her."
Her jaw clenched. She could picture him now, prostrate on the shining path, his forehead pressed low. Things had never been the same between them since she became Milana.
"Come forth, Cramnal. Where are Rebecca and Struns?"
Rainbow light rippled, and a tall man appeared behind her. His blond hair glinted with streaks of color; his gemlike eyes gleamed like prisms. She didn't turn, only walked briskly down the golden path. He followed.
If their sister was in danger, others could be called. Two of their brothers were Azmin Guard—Rachel's family had always been Azmin, the clan blessed by Trannisa. The rainbow magic Cramnal wielded was unique to their bloodline, though Rachel's gift was rarer still.
Rachel, the Milana. Protector of the realm.
The title was passed soul to soul, never bound to blood alone. Yet many Milana had been Azmin.
Her gifts—Third Eye, Sorcery, Fate, and the impossible Rainbow Magic—marked her from birth. Everyone knew she would carry the mantle.
Everyone except Rachel herself.
She never wanted to protect. She never wanted destiny. The real problem was simpler.
She didn't know what she wanted at all.