Chapter 2- Maggie

I think that part of the reason my dream is so hard to shake is because it's not all fiction. My friends and I can really transform into birds, so it just doesn't seem that far-fetched that the rest of it could be true too, especially after what the elder guardians have always told us. 

We don't really know all that much about their history other than the fact that they're the latest in a long line of supernatural humans sworn to protect the Sensa stones. Even the Sensa stones themselves are a bit of a mystery, but I might be getting a little ahead of myself. 

 A long time ago the Sensa stones were actually only one stone. The name of it has been forgotten over time, so we just call it the original relic. Anyway, the original relic was passed down through the royal family of a kingdom you won't find in any history book. They were thought to be the only kingdom whose people were able to wield magic, and a lot of their power came from the Original relic. You can probably tell where this is going. We don't really know who was the first to attack their kingdom, maybe it was one dark force, maybe it was several envious kingdoms at once, either way, even with their magic, the kingdom was quickly overwhelmed. 

The one part of the kingdom's history that's clear to us is how the original relic escaped. When it was clear that the kingdom was falling to the enemy, their princess, guided by her five guards, the best young magic users of their generation, fled with the original relic. Their only goal was to keep the relic from falling into the enemy's hands, and they were successful for a time. They left the kingdom behind, the lone survivors of a once proud and peaceful civilization. They tried to stay hidden and keep on the move, but as what happens to most humans, they got cocky. 

For months they had settled in a quiet little village, assimilating to the villagers' way of life. Everything was peaceful once again. The Princess and the relic were safely hidden away. They began to believe that they had gotten away. They were wrong. When the enemy came this time, it was almost a repeat of what happened to their kingdom. The village burned. The only difference this time was that instead of an entire army to fight against them, there was only the five out of practice guardians and a princess whose only power was her bloodline, and unlike the previous battle there was no where to run. 

The princess had to watch, powerless as her guards, her friends, her family, made their last stand to protect her. They were strong, even though they had gone months without training. Despite the enemy's overwhelming numbers, they might have been able to win if their powers had been developed, but carelessly they had believed that if they acted like ordinary humans, then everyone would believe that they were exactly that.  The guards began to tire, they retreated towards the princess. Their only thoughts were of her. Protect the princess even if it cost them their lives. 

The princess's legs trembled and she fell to her knees, tears falling down her face as she watched them get injured, one by one. Then just as it seemed they all would die in a blood soaked meadow on the outskirts of the burning village, that princess, who had no power, who had always felt like a burden, made a wish. 

"Protect them," she cried as she cradled the original relic in her palms. "keep them safe." To everyone's surprise, especially hers, the relic responded. A bright light shot out from the stone, filling the sky with brilliant colors, and suddenly the princess and her guards vanished. When the blinding light finally faded, the guards found themselves in a remote forest, injured and exhausted, but alive. The princess lay on the forest floor beside them, too weak to move. In her open hands, the original relic shattered into five pieces. 

The princess knew she was dying, the guards knew it too. They knelt next to their fallen leader, grief stricken. It should have been a mournful occasion, but the princess found the strength to smile. Her resolve to protect her friends had saved them. She asked them not to try to help her, their efforts would be in vain. A wish that great required an equally great sacrifice. She entrusted each of her friends with a part the relic, and warned them that the enemy was still out there. A single tear fell down her face as she felt her life slipping away. With her dying breath she issued them one last order. "Go and live long, happy lives." 

The guards buried their princess in that forest, and left to fulfill her last wish. They had become the first line of guardians for the Sensa stones, passing down the story of the princess's sacrifice to guardians who came after them to ensure that her death would not be in vain. My friends and I are the latest in that line, though at the moment, we're still technically apprentices.

I sigh, running my fingers across the smooth surface of the light blue gem that hangs on the silver chain around my neck. Despite knowing the stories and having the abilities that I have, it just doesn't seem possible that somewhere out there an unknown enemy could still be searching for something so ordinary looking.

"Don't you have homework to do?" I lean back in my desk chair and turn towards the window that sits to the right of my bed. 

Perched on the windowsill is a dark grey owl that looks like it could have flown straight from the pages of a Harry Potter book. I roll my eyes at it and turn back towards my desk. I had been trying to do my homework. Hayley, my only non-apprentice friend had stopped by a couple of hours ago to give me the notes I missed in Calculus and to tell me what chapter problems Mrs. Stone had assigned for homework. I figure that if I skip class the least I can do is actually do my assignments on time, but I keep getting distracted. My mind has a habit of wandering back to my dream and our duty as apprentices.

I turn back towards the window, but the owl is gone. Instead, a man with long silver hair lies on my bed as if he belongs there. Despite, the color of his hair, he doesn't look that old, maybe early twenties at the most, but if you looked closely at his serious, icy blue eyes, you would begin to question how old he really is. I've never gotten him to tell me, but I expect he's pretty far up there in years or he wouldn't need an apprentice. The guardians explained to us a while back that they, or we i guess, live a lot longer than normal humans.

"Shouldn't you be turning back into a dog?" I ask him. "What if my mom or Maya bursts in here and finds a strange man in my bed."

He waves a hand dismissively, "They'd probably be more surprised that you showed enough interest in a guy to actually have him in your bed." He props himself up on one elbow and grins at me, "Besides, they aren't here."

I choose to ignore that dig at my social life and focus on the part about my family. "What? Where'd they go?" 

Castor sighs, "They had something incredibly boring to do. Can't for the life of me remember what it was though. Oh well."

"Getting forgetful in your old age?"

Castor winces and flops back against my pillows, clutching his chest. "You wound me, mags. I'm still relatively young for a guardian. You know that."

I roll my eyes at his dramatics. "Relatively young for a guardian doesn't equal not old," I point out to him.

Castor winces again and flails around my bed until he rolls off, but what hits the floor isn't a person. It's a large Siberian husky, lying on his back, all four legs sticking straight in the air as if playing dead.  His silver coat shimmers in the late afternoon sun filtering through my window and any movement causes his fur to ripple into different shades of gray, reminding me of a fish's scales. Usually, I think he makes a handsome dog, but now I'm just annoyed. I get up from my chair, go over to where he's lying, and crouch down beside his head. My glare hardens at the fact that even his tongue is lolling from his mouth. I poke him in the side not so gently.

"Get up you big baby," I huff, "You're supposed to mentoring me, not the other way around."

Quick as a flash, Castor flips onto his belly and jumps back from me, transforming back into his human form effortlessly. He spins back towards  my bed and falls onto it in the same position he started in as if he hadn't moved at all. 

"You know," Castor says, a lazy smile forming on his face, "I can almost see the steam pouring from your ears."

I stand, forcing myself to turn away from him and go back to my desk. I don't want to give him anymore satisfaction at seeing me angry. I can feel my face getting red, so I drop my head into my hands in an attempt to hide it. 

"I can't believe that out of all the guardians I could have gotten, it had to be the lazy, dramatic, provocative one," I say into my palms so that my voice comes out muffled, but I know Castor can hear me.

"Hey," he protests, "I resent that last comment. Lazy and dramatic, I'll proudly wear, but I am no where near as perverted as you're making me out to be. Besides," he adds, "you're the one who chose me, remember?"

I groan. That part's true and he'll never let me live it down. Never mind the fact that I was fourteen and my only goal was to pick a cute puppy from the local animal shelter. I had always wanted a husky, and I couldn't believe my luck when I saw the scrawny little silver pup sitting half hidden under blankets in one of the farther cages of the shelter. Little did I know that my dream dog would turn out to be a crazy old man. I guess some things really are too good to be true.

While I'm reliving my past trauma, the doorbell rings. My head shoots up and I look over at Castor who is already poking his head out the window. Even though my window faces the front of the house, it isn't really possible to see who's at our door from it. The roof of the porch obscures them from view, but if Castor knows who it is, then he'll recognize them by smell. Perks of being a dog for half of your life I guess. He sticks his head back in the window and the pout he's wearing, instantly lets me know who it is, but he tells me anyway.

"It's Derek," he grumbles.

I grin at the dejected look he's wearing, get up, and bound down the stairs to let Derek in. When I open the front door, Derek smiles at me, clearly in a much better mood, than he was at school.

"Is your mom home?" He asks, moving past me, already heading for the living room. 

"Nope," I tell him at the same moment a tiny grey sugar glider pops its head out of the pocket of Derek's FBLA t-shirt. 

"You're good to go," Derek tells it, and without missing a beat, the sugar glider launches itself out of his pocket and glides once around our small living room as if taking in the view. Then, it somersaults mid-air and lands on the dark hard wood floor as a woman with long wavy silver hair and bright blue eyes. Her skin sports a deep tan as if she's spent countless hours in the sun and the smile, she wears is not unlike Castor's when he's made a joke that only he finds funny. 

Speaking of Castor, he has suddenly appeared on the stairs, his arms folded across his chest and a deep scowl on his face. "What a showoff," he huffs. 

The woman bats her eyelashes innocently at him and says, "I have no idea what you're talking about brother dear."  

He grits his teeth and his eyes flash with irritation, "You know exactly what I'm talking about, Dianna." 

She smiles sweetly at him and then plops herself gracefully onto our plush cream colored couch, crossing one leg over the other. "Well maybe I do," she concedes with a hint of satisfaction. 

Derek and I watch this exchange unfold with equal parts amusement and boredom. I thoroughly enjoy how Dianna makes Castor squirm, but I've also seen this argument so many times now, that it's starting to lose its charm. I fall into the chair adjacent from the couch and turn my attention to Derek. 

"Any particular reason you stopped by without texting first?" I ask him not that it really makes a difference. Derek and I used to spend all our time at each other's houses. Lately, it seems to take a lot of effort to get him to come over, so I might be secretly pleased that he decided to drop by on his own. 

His eyes slide from me to Castor before back to me, his eyebrows knit together as if he's trying to work out whether I'm joking or not. "It's a training day," He says simply. 

I feel my cheeks start to get hot as I shoot at a look at Castor who in turn scowls at Dianna as if it's her fault that we were in the dark about the training session. 

"Isn't it your job to know about these things," I spit at Castor. 

He flinches as if my words could actually hurt him, but steadily refuses to meet my gaze. "Well," he begins, his eyes narrowed in Dianna's direction, "I had to miss the last guardian meeting. Some things came up. I thought I could trust Dianna to let me know what I had missed." 

She smiles at him, but there's a glint in her eye that I don't like. "I'm here aren't I." 

Castor's jaw clenches and his face darkens. I'm so used to seeing him joking around with that stupid grin on his face that I sometimes forget how scary he can be. Derek, sensing the same tension I am, steps between the couch and the stairs, almost completely blocking our view of Castor. Dianna's smile disappears. 

"Let's just get going. Nobody's missing training, so no point arguing about it now," he says with a hard look at Dianna. 

She just shrugs and stands, "Just having a little fun." Before, Derek can say anything else to her, she begins to change, her body contorting and shrinking until she's back to being a sugar glider. Derek stoops to pick her up from the ground, letting her scurry up his arm until she perches herself onto his shoulder. 

I heave a sigh, forcing myself to calm down. "So," I say to Derek, "should I drive or you?" 

He shudders, "me. I think your driving is the last thing anyone needs right now." 

"Hey," I protest getting up from my chair and following Derek to the door, "do I or do I not get us where we need to go." 

"If you don't count the fact that we all lose our stomachs on the first curve you take going 90."

I think about it for a second and have to admit he has a point. "That's probably true," I concede and turn back towards the stairs to see if Castor is following. He's still standing where we left him. His expression has lightened a little, but there's still faint traces of scary Castor in his eyes. 

"Come on boy," I say to him in my best baby talk voice, "If it'll cheer you up, I'll let you stick your head out the window and take you for a nice long walk when we get back." 

He scowls at me. "You know I hate when you use that voice. I'm not actually your pet." but despite his words, he changes form, and I'm struck with how much more graceful it seems after having just watched his sister. Where Dianna's transformations seem comparable to a contortionists' act, Castor's is more fluid, like he's shedding one coat and exchanging it for another. I think it has something to do with the fact that he is the only guardian who has more than one animal form. 

The transformations are a defense mechanism developed by the first guardians. In case they ever needed to flee again, it would be easier to blend in with wildlife instead of another village. It helped keep them safe through the years, because the enemy wasn't aware they gained this power. They assumed the guardians were humans, and they were a majority of the time, but their new skill ensured they could slip away, unnoticeable if the need arose. It was the sensa stones that gave us our power to transform into birds, if we didn't have them, then we couldn't transform. Once the stone is passed onto the apprentice, the guardians are granted one animal form, however, something designed to let them integrate into their apprentice's lives without it being suspicious. Among the guardians, Castor is an anomaly, because his power to shift isn't derived from the sensa stones. It's part of his magic, unique to him.  

I watch the silver Husky trot ahead of us and out the front door that Derek holds open. Even as a dog, he radiates a sense of power that you can't help, but be impressed by.  I would never admit this to him, but I'm actually glad that Castor's my guardian.