Zero Plain

Zero Plain originally started as a short story submission for a Vocal+ challenge. However, as I was writing, I quickly realized that the story would fall well over the three-thousand character limit. So, I hit save, and moved on to another project. I honestly can’t even recall quite which prompt it was for, ironically.

However, while I don’t doubt this short piece would fall well over three-thousand characters, I also can’t quite decide where to go with it. The world itself isn’t quite developed, and I am uncertain where the plot travels at this point, still.

It never quite came together because, like I often do, my “short” stories often become more complex than I feel I can cover in a “short” story. This one, in particular, felt as though it would become a novella. It’s something I struggle with as a predominantly fantasy writer.

Aside from being incomplete, the draft feels incomplete because it feels as though it starts just past the beginning of something, yet not quite. The world feels unfinished and Aurelia’s role feels like a deus ex machina type of device to just…exist. I also couldn’t quite come up with a calamity so dire that it would require Melchior and Silestra to return to their world.

I would love for feedback on where this story might go.

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Purple clouds hang high in the indigo sky, still trimmed in the last violet hues of the sunset as twilight wanes. The moon has risen, a golden wheat glow that blankets the world in a shade of night. All is still…but not so still. All seems silent…but to my keen ears, this world is never silent.

Wind breaths around me, restless and wild through bluegrass and clover, and rustles the leaves of the nearby oak trees. White pine needles shutter, and their branches shake like bones rattling. Insects chirp and chitter and chirrup, the wings of bats flutter and flap; somewhere in the woods, an owl whoops and hoots. Ears twitch, and I can even make out the croaking frogs and toads by the creek bed and the skitter of racoon paws in the shallows by the bank.

‘No, never silent,’ I yawn lazily, as my back arches in a stretch. Limber legs extend outwards and toes flex and fan to reveal curled claws as I move upright. The humans will be turning in now, most of them abed or else uninterested in the unlit world. Humans are diurnal creatures; they have little appreciation for the world after the sun goes down. Moonlike eyes drink in my surroundings as I watch, listen, wait…

Something is off about tonight; there is a certain heaviness in the air. It’s like that moment before the clouds rupture in thunder and lightning and the sky swells in rainstorms – but not. My long black tail twitches: I can’t quite put my paw on it, but something is…off.

Perhaps it is the scent; usually, summer nights bring the freshness of dew as the humidity settles over the southlands, animal musk and wildflowers carried on the breeze. The fragrance of leaves and weeds and mowed grasses hang heavy from the daytime nuances of human activity. But tonight, there is an absence of that familiar perfume, instead heavy with something like looming storms...but not quite.

With silent footfalls, I leap from my perch on the porch and climb down to the concrete paved driveway. The winds begin to soften and still, until the leaves and grass become motionless around me. Stalks of irises give a final gentle sway in the flowerbed before resting and even the colorful flag adorned by the porch falls limp against its post. Stillness settles. Then, slowly, the insects begin to hush, almost one-by-one; the crickets stop chirping, the cicada calls halt, and the chorus decrescendos, and fades, and disappears. The frogs and toads rest and even the creek seems to have stopped its gentle trickle.

Stillness…Silence…. Like the moments during winter’s first snowfall, uncanny. Even snowfall sees movement – the gentle falling snowflakes as they dance from grey skies to the earth below, the scurry of a field mouse seeking food and shelter... This…this is different – as though time has stopped. I glance to the sky. Purple clouds have faded to shades of muted navy and cobalt against the darkened sky, flecks of starlight shimmering as they drift overhead. The moon has risen slightly; time still moves – or at least, has moved.

“It moves not,” a voice says, and my spine prickles, ears flicking as I twist towards the source. “I have paused it.” Wild-eyed, I gaze upon the creature; she is tall and limber hooves soundless as she approaches me. She is a four-legged beast – long nosed with a mane of glimmering hair that streams down her neck; I’ve seen creatures similar to her before, though never with a horn of pure silver.

“Why have you paused it?” I meow to her, uncertain if she will understand. She lowers her head toward me, and instinctively, cautiously, I take a step back.

“You need not fear me, Luna.” Her voice resonates inside my mind rather than being spoken aloud. “And you may simply speak telepathically – I will hear you as you hear me.” Silence follows her expectantly, though I must appear as bewildered as I feel, because she merely chuckles. “I am a unicorn, called Aurelia,” she answers knowingly, “and I have paused time to ask your help, dear Luna. We only have this one night to save the world from a great disaster.”

“But…I’m just a cat,” I reply in my mind.

“Perhaps now,” the unicorn says. “But your true form is much more.” She turns away from me and a portal of light appears before her like a glimmering opal, radiant and flecked with rainbows. “Come.”

I hesitate; what can I do – a mere feline? I am but black fur and claws! Yet…my true form…? What could the unicorn possibly mean? I have always been a cat! Something draws me to know, it pushes me, yanks at my heart, and slowly, it draws me to step nearer. And suddenly, that fear, that hesitation – it’s gone – evaporated, and I follow her into the light.

“We are in a zero plain.” And she is right: the grass is such a faded shade of gray that it is nearly colorless, and the clouded sky appears white and silver, as though a snowstorm approaches. Fog hazes the distance, but there are no trees or hills or mountains or houses – only gray grass and sky into the mist in every direction. A figure approaches.

“You’re back!” he barks gleefully, bushy white wagging. I didn’t notice him at first; his fluffy coat of white had blended in with the white and gray of the Zero Plain. My ears flatten as the canine approaches.

“You needn’t worry,” Aurelia says knowingly, and she glances back at me. Even in the dullness of the plain, she seems to glimmer. “You and Jasper are dear to each other.”

“We are?!” I ask, and Jasper bows playfully.

“Is she the one you told me about?!” he asks excitedly.

“Yes,” she replies, “but I fear there is no time to explain,” she adds before I can question further. “All will be made clear when I return you to your true forms.” Her horn begins to glow, the silver turning to rainbow aura. I hesitate, but before I can react, I feel it kiss my forehead; heat ripples through me, light surrounds me, swallows me, and the world shifts. I become weightless, everything consumed in the warmth of Aurelia’s light. That warmth fills me, trickled the length of my legs and arms and into my toes and extends into long and limber limbs. My body morphs and I can feel the bones twisting and turning into something else entirely.

When finally, the light recedes and the dull gray of the zero plain settles around me, feet – human feet – settle upon the soft grass blades. I am clad in a leather jerkin of charcoal black and leather wrist guards. Thick fitted breeches tuck into the supple folded tops of hiking boots. Ebon locks frame my face to my chin in short waves; bright eyes of green glance to Jasper – but he is Jasper no more.

Instead of a playful, fluffy pup, he stands as a tall, lean, muscular man clad in a regal silver jerkin adorned with the crest of a moon and rose; taking a glance down, I realize my chest bears the same symbol. Long waves of snowy white drape down his shoulders, elegant features pale and beautiful against the colorless world. His eyes are blue – oh so blue…a blue I recognize, and I gasp.

“Melchior!” I realize, and his gaze meets mine. Hesitance flutters over his features, just briefly, but then he smiles.

“My Silestra!” His embrace is deep and warm, and I pull myself close into him. Tears swell against my eyes like seawater threatening to overflow a levy, and I squeeze them shut. “How long has it been?” I manage, taking in a deep breath; his scent is exactly as I remember – the smell of seafoam and dune grass and wildflowers by the shore.

“Thousands of years in your mortal lives,” Aurelia interrupts delicately, and there is a sadness in her voice.

“Aurelia…” I say, the memories coming back to me.

“It is good to see you in your true forms again, your majesties.” The unicorn bows her head respectfully. “I fear there is little time to explain.”

“Celstialria – our Celestial Kingdom –” Melchior began, echoing the same concern I am thinking of as well.

“Safe,” Aurelia replies, and I release a sigh of relief. “Her borders are still sealed beyond the reach of humans. The magic holds well; about three hundred years have passed in our domain, and your kingdom is now ruled by your eldest granddaughter, Naraleia.”

“And the curse?” I ask.

“I…I’m so sorry…we haven’t found a way to revert you back to your true forms,” Aurelia answers. “The remedy I’ve cast will barely last until dawn – if that.” So…three hundred years had passed in their kingdom – and thousands of mortal lifetimes – and yet… Halric Blackshard’s curse still remains unbreakable. “There is no time to lose.”