I used to be the greatest

but now I am smaller than the smallest

I used to tower over mountains

but now I cower from mice

I used to be the hunter

but now I am the prey

It takes but a moment

To fall from any high perch

So to those of you

who look down upon me now

Know that you too shall one day

join me in the graves below

Henry was pissed. He had been back in this world for months, but his ire never really faded. Swept away to help save a magical world just to get dumped back “home” after the war was won. He didn’t think there was anyone out there liar enough to say he was any formed of pleased.

True, he was grateful to see his parents again; he missed them, but. That was just it; everytime he took solace in reuniting with them, he was stopped by the wish to be elsewhere. He wasn’t going to be winning any child of the year awards anytime soon. Still, he loved his parents, and he’d freely admit to crying when seeing them for the first time after a decade, for the first time since he was eight and now eight again. Of course, they were both very confused at the tears in his eyes and the sudden, dramatic shift in his personality. It had only been ten years for Henry in that magical world, after all.

Henry would have gone mad if he were the only one who went to that world, but all twelve of them seemed to have returned- even the three who died. They, at least, understood how jarring the world was, but it wasn’t the same. They hadn’t spent more of their lives, their formative years, in the magical world. He grew up there; it became his home, and now he was here.

A miracle happened the previous week. If Henry were to be honest, he would have to admit that he never thought he’d see anyone from that world ever again; if he were to be even more honest, Henry knew there wasn’t a single thing that could stand in Gardrin Bonnaire’s way. Even if she had never been to Earth before, it wouldn’t stop her from going there for the first time. She was never going to let him live down how happy he was to see her. Henry was vindicated, even if it was tainted with bitterness, by the fact that she suffered the de-aging as well.

Gardrin was going to do what she wanted, and she decided to make sure her closest companion didn’t leave that easily. So, she looked into interdimensional magic, got her responsibilities covered for temporarily, and brewed up a potion that dropped her off right in Henry’s yard. Now, she was staying at his house; his parents insisted she couldn’t just go off alone.

Henry had sat, stewing, on an outcropping in the woods that served as his backyard for some time. His brooding was interrupted when Gardrin decided she wanted some company.

“Hey,” she plopped down next to him, “I see you’re still a champ at moping.”

Henry sighed, “Hey, Gar. You commune with the plants to find me?”

“I don’t think your trees like me all that much, but I can’t say I much care. I’m still trying to figure out how to actually make them useful in one of my potions, but I’ve got no basis to work with.” the girl pouted.

“I have no doubt you’ll figure it out, even if it means you tear every plant in the vicinity apart.”

“Please, I’m not wasteful. It’s not like I’m low on supplies, anyhow. You don’t have to worry about me demolishing your precious woods.”

“How much can your brew from what you have on you?”

“Enough Stranger’s Tongue to become fluent in about five languages.”

“First of all, isn’t Stanger’s Tongue super dangerous? Why aren’t you just using Traveler’s Translator? Secondly, I was thinking more along the lines of the dimensional potion that got you here in the first place.”

“Traveler’s Translator doesn’t actually teach you languages and is known for being faulty. I know how to handle my mixes well enough that Stranger’s Tongue won’t hurt me; frankly, I’m insulted that you would insinuate otherwise.”

“My apologies, great potions mistress. Daresay, I know you are skilled in your art better than any other. Please, grant me your forgiveness,” the sarcasm that fell from Henry’s mouth was practiced at this point, but Gardrin still gave a smug smirk.

“I suppose I can forgive you just this once, but don’t do it again.”

“I would never. Seriously, though, what about that dimensional potion?”

“You seem desperate for that information.”

“Do I now?”

Gardrin rolled her eyes and turned to face Henry fully.

“Yes, you do. Tell me, what’s bugging you, Henry? Can’t help if I don’t know what’s up.”

Henry pursed his lips, a scowl forming on his brow.

Finally, he grit out, “Did I ever tell you what this place means to me? This outcropping specifically.”

“No, in fact- as I recall- you only ever talked about your parents when you talked about where you from. I’m going to go out on a limb and say if you haven’t told me, then you haven’t told anyone at all.”

“Well, look who’s clever. I guess I haven’t mentioned it to anyone.”

“Don’t leave me hanging, Henry.”

“This is where I was swept away. I always thought it would be the last place I’d ever be on Earth.”

Gardrin paused, “Technically, I have enough on me to make four batches on the potion, one batch per person. However, I’m not sure how to brew it for others yet. It‘s part of what this trip is for. I can’t get you back there, Henry.”

Henry slumped. He took a deep breath and swallowed his frustration. Gardrin waited for him. Eventually, he leaned back, facing the nearly clear sky.

“I guess I shouldn’t be expecting you to fix everything after you already did so much to get here.”

“You really shouldn’t. It’s not fair of you.”

“Life’s not fair.”

“I didn’t realize your ego was that big.”

“Life hasn’t been fair to me.”

“I know, but you’ve been given back some of things it stole from you.”

“Yeah, by having something more important taken away.”

“Deal.”

“You think I haven’t been.”

“I think you’ve been moping on a bunch of rocks hoping to be swept away again. What a great display of effort into your return.”

“There hasn’t been anything I can do!”

“And you aren’t even trying to appreciate what you have here, are you? Oh, but woe is you.”

“I know it isn’t right, okay. I know more than anyone, but-”

“You’ve got an excuse? Please, share.”

Henry rose from the outcropping and leveled Gardrin with a glare. She crossed her arms, face adorned with something close to amusement.

“I used to be the greatest, but now I am smaller than the smallest! Forgive me if I’m having trouble adjusting!”

“Well, you are pretty small. Guess that’s what happens when you lose ten years.”

The boy looked away; his fists clenched at his sides. A breath stuck in his lungs. His critic just tilted her head and let the shadow of a smile grace her lips. Henry exhaled harshly, tension suddenly releasing.

“I’m taller that you, at least.”

“Not much of an accomplishment, I’m afraid.”

“I- I miss it. I miss who I was there.”

“What was so different about you there?”

“I was a hero; I had an army. I was skilled in so many magics that I nearly lost count. I was an adult. I’m not any of those things now.”

“That sucks.”

“I know I need to be trying harder here, but every time I try I just-”

“Remember everything you miss.”

“Yeah, that.”

“Just like you did every time you tried settling in when you first landed in my home.”

“Did I?”

“You just thought you’d never be able to return.”

“I suppose, I actually did my best to accept the loss.”

“But here I am.”

“And I don’t have to accept anything.”

“So long as I stay.”

“You’d leave?”

“Probably not.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Probably.”

“What do you think I should do?”

“Do whatever, but I don’t think you’re looking at the full picture.”

“Enlighten me.”

“If I can get my potions to work, you can return.”

“You know I know that.”

“You can also come back here.”

“That’s not exactly the problem here.”

“No, but it was. Now, I’m here with the best possible gift in your life, and you’re ignoring half the benefits.”

“Elaborate. Please.”

“You won’t have to give anything up this time. Not a single thing. You should appreciate that.”

“I appreciate everything you’re giving me.”

“Then why aren’t you reaching out to your parents.”

“What?”

“Well? You don’t have to give up a relationship with them. Why aren’t you trying to build one?”

“I’m not- I don’t have a relationship with them anymore. I spent ten years away, and it wasn’t even an hour for them.”

“Fix it.”

“I’m not sure how.”

“Remind me, how did you get an army again?”

“You were there.”

“If you can’t even reach out to your parents, how in the world did you manage to gather a group loyal enough to die with you? At least a quarter of them hated you at first.”

“It’s different.”

“So?”

Henry sighed. He took his seat next to Gardrin. A small smile slowly bloomed on his face.

“So, I guess I better get started. Thanks, Gardrin.”

“Well, when you’re this great, you just have to share some of your wisdom with those in desperate need.”

“Right, of course.”

Gardrin snorted, and both kids started snickering. The two looked out at the sunset before them.

“Never seen a sunset with so much red before.”

“That’s because Earth’s atmosphere isn’t soaked in magic.”

“I noticed. Guess I’ll just learn to deal.”

“Not leaving then.”

“I suppose.”

The two lapsed into silence as the first stars began to reveal themselves. Eventually, Henry’s mother called them in. Gardrin shoved Henry off of the outcropping and gave him a pointed look before rushing inside. After a beat, Henry raced after her, giving his parents a quick hug after reaching them.

Kane’s heart thumped violently in his chest as he waited by the door. Really, he hadn’t been standing there that long but it felt like it had been hours. The only reason he was here in the first place was because the prince was the first person he released all his uncertainty to and he offered to advocate for an audience with the king.

He knew he had to do this, it was really a matter of whether or not he would be able to get the words to escape his throat and continue their journey crawling out of his mouth. Never before had he felt so conflicted before. He’d always held so strongly to his values and beliefs and they’ve never steered him wrong. Now it was those exact values that made him want to forget the things that he knew, the knowledge that could get someone hurt.

He tensed when he heard the click of the door opening, his knuckles whitening in anticipation.

“His highness will see you now,” The person delivering him the news didn’t really mean all that much to him, some knight or servant or squire or something, it was the news itself that made his heart race. He was sure it would try to hop right out of his mouth the moment he opened it to speak so he merely nodded his head, walking through the door that was held open for him.

He froze in place just yards before the throne, silence ringing through the room and eyes boring into him, waiting. Kane took a deep breath in a vain attempt to calm his anxiety. He looked at Beau, sitting to the right of the king in his own throne. He could tell the prince was trying to look supportive. It had really been completely by accident that he had vented to Beau in the first place. Beau had merely been the first familiar face he had run into when he returned to the capital. Kane looked at Eryk next, the captain of his team of knights. Eryk didn’t know what this was about yet, he could tell by the way the captain stood behind the prince’s throne, back straight and stoic. There were some more people in the room but none of them meant anything to Kane, nor did he think any of them could hope to understand.

It was after a minute of thick silence that the king finally spoke, “My son tells me you have something very important to tell me that is equally difficult to tell,”

Beau had mentioned that he warned the king of the touchy nature of the subject. He would have to thank him later. He took another deep breath before nodding his head, bowing shortly. “Sire,” He began as he straightened back up. His anxiety was no better but he could start to get the words out without choking on them, a good start.

“I believe very strongly that families have the responsibility to take care of each other. I have always thought that a parent or child or sibling who does not stick by the other’s side through all thicks and thins does not deserve their family in the first place. There is nothing that I wouldn’t do for my family, including protecting them with my life. I’ve always made a point to support everything they did and make sure they were safe. That being said, I came to the capital to become a knight of the royal army almost a year ago. When I came, I took an oath: I, Sir Kane of Valencia, swear to protect Morelia and all of its citizens with my sword and with my life. When I took my oath, I meant it with every fiber of my being. I’ve found myself in the position where those values are put into conflict.”

Kane wasn’t explaining his position to the king, everyone in the room could tell that right now. Instead he was still rationalizing this decision to himself, “And while my family means everything to me, and I would do anything to keep them safe, I can’t ignore the wellbeing of innocent people.”

What he would give to be able to turn around and walk away, pretend he hadn’t said a word. He would leave this room, probably go to the training ground to run drills with his team. After that they would all go to a pub in town and drink until one of them passed out, probably him. Someone would drag him back to the palace, to his chambers and dump him in bed. He would have the most terrible hangover and maybe then it would hurt too much for him to even consider thinking about this… this… problem. But it was too late for that, he had said too much already to get away with changing his mind.

“Who is it?” A simple, not even the slightest bit provocative question from the king, but it still made him flinch.

“Earl Milo of Valencia.” His brother, the only family that his had left, the man he just turned his back on, “He has shared with me very serious plans to usurp the royal claim to the throne and I believe him to have every capability of doing so.”

The king nodded in understanding before glancing over at Eryk, “Send a party of men to Valencia to bring Earl Milo here. Tell them to be on their guard but not to hurt him. I wish to speak with him before anything rash is done.”

Eryk nodded in acknowledgment and made his leave, efficient as always. A dismissal from the king prompted the rest of them to leave but it took a hand on his shoulder from the prince for Kane to comprehend it. Since when has he been this weak? He had always been strong, even stoic at his parents’ grave so Milo might find some peace. The greatest brother Milo had called him. Well, he used to be the greatest, but now he felt smaller than small.

We ran as fast as we could and did not stop for anyone or anything. I crashed into a man carrying a basket of mangoes and elbowed through crowds of Colombians in the market square. Corporal Amherst’s boots got snagged on a pothole on the brick paved path, and allowed her hands to break her fall. I wanted to turn to help her up, but the thumping bass line of my heart beat struck me with fear. Tears welled up in my eyes: they were coming, and we couldn’t stop them.

“¡Allí!” One of the men yelled as he continued toward us. I kept running. Amherst quickly got up and continued after me. We turned a corner into a car garage and crept behind an old sofa next to a broken down 1996 Camry. Slowly and quietly, we tried to catch our breath.

“Allí fueron por ese camino!” The men raced by. I turned to Amherst and attempted to decipher her feelings through my tears. I wanted to speak. I wanted to say I was sorry for being a coward, and not turning to help her up but my tongue was cardboard. She could see my regret and spoke nothing of it.

“Was that them?” I finally muttered. “The investors?”

Amherst got up and started rummaging through tool boxes lying around the room. My eyes followed her everywhere she went like a lost puppy. Finally, she found a rag and a photo of a colombian girl. She gazed at the photo for a moment, then put it back in order to wrap the wounds on her hands from her fall in the market square. Then, she turned to me and wiped the stray hairs out of her face that had adhered to some sweat.

“Those were his dogs. They do his work.” She continued searching the garage. “We have to find the rest of the models, before the ring gets larger.” I grimaced at the thought of the task. Suddenly I had regretted accepting the internship at Cosmopolitan. I wept and wined to be back in the United States. I missed the warm showers, simple work days, brunches with the other interns, and english speaking people. The burning pain that flushed my cheek brought me back to the grim reality of where I was. Amherst drew her hand back and hit me again. She shook me and yelled at me with anger.

“How selfish can you be?” she reprimanded, “How can you weep for a life of lavish when women just like you have been taken from their homes to be trafficked in a different country? You don’t think they wanted a simple life too? They thought they were living their dream as a Cosmopolitan model, and now they’re unrecognizable as people.” The air grew thick and silent again: nothing but the sound of Amherst’s panting resonated in the room. She let go of my shirt collar and I flopped to the ground like a doll.

“I-I’m sorry” I mumbled. Truly I was tired of being sorry, and she was right; after all I had experienced I couldn’t return to the states without feeling guilty. Before my mind could grapple with what I knew I had to do, Amherst cocked a pistol and handed it to me.

“Now get up and strike me” She demanded. I looked at her puzzled.

“If you’re going to continue this with me I need to know that you can hold your ground. I can’t be looking after you all the time,” She explained. I rose to my feet, lifted my arms half-heartedly, and stood there. Oxygen filled my lungs through my nose, then out through my mouth. I lunged toward Amherst; I found myself on the ground. Again, I rose to my feet and attempted another punch. Again, I ate dirt. We continued this until my body began to bruise, and my strength grew weary.

“I can’t do this!” I cried. I begged her to stop. But this time, even as I was on the ground, Amherst continued to strike me.

“Shoot me” She commanded. “Use the pistol, and shoot me” I swung the barrel up to her forehead in aggravation.

“Do it!” She ordered. Amherst gazed into my eyes; my finger twitched in the trigger guard. She grabbed the gun, and lowered it to my side. Just then I realized that she knew I was gonna do it, and she knew she could trust me.

“¿Ay, Quien estas?” I stepped to the side to find a man standing in a doorway. “¿Qué estás haciendo en mi garaje?”

“Hablamos inglés señor” I replied. The man rolled his eyes.

“What are you doing in my garage?” He repeated. I apologized and explained that we had only been looking for shelter just for a moment.

“Are you Ricardo?” I asked pointing to the sign hanging from the corner of the ceiling: it read ‘Ricardo’s Garage’. Amherst turned around and embraced him.

“Sanchez” She squeezed him with a sigh of relief. Apparently they had served together 5 years ago in Spain before he had returned to Colombia following his dishonorable discharge. Amherst explained to him why we were there, and what we had planned to do. Señor Ricardo Sanchez sighed. He walked over to the same toolbox where Amherst had found the photo, and brought it over to us.

“This is mi hija, Esmeralda” He began, “She left Colombia only a year ago to pursue her dreams of becoming a runway model. I told her not to go to the United States, because the American Dream is only one of their propaganda to entice immigrants to come and work slavingly as waitresses, custodians, and the like. But she swore she knew what she was doing, and even when she got the job at Cosmopolitan, I didn’t trust it. The greed of men there is what got me discharged and I couldn’t help, but believe they’d do the same to my daughter.” He rubbed his oil stained thumb over the picture.

“When I had heard that models there were going missing, I reached out to mi hija. She never responded.” A lump formed in my throat. He continued, “I could only think the worst. So I guess what I’m asking is, do you think mi hija could be held with the rest of them?” He held back his tears. Amherst reached her hand out and rested it on his thigh.

“We will find her” She comforted him. Amherst looked at me for reinforcement, but this whole circumstance was out of my comfort zone.

“We must prepare to go” Sanchez concluded. He got up and went back the way he came into his house. We followed him and found him packing his bag. I allowed my eyes to glide along the walls, and soak up every ounce of the stories that were captured inside each picture, and trinket. The Marine Corps Medals, family photos, and Virgin Mary statue all stood stiff amongst the walls. I rubbed my hand along the ridges, bumps, and crevices of the pastel colored wall. The home feel beckoned me to stay. I longed for a nap; We have been traveling, searching, and running for so long, I wished to sleep. But before I could rest on the old woven blankets, Sanchez tossed a backpack into my hands. I took a deep breathe and followed them out into the street.

It was dusk now, and the oven-warm orange colors bathed the sky. The day’s last gleam and glisten of the sun blanketed the city streets of Cartagena. We trekked through the alleys. A tall mud plaster building stood as a blemish against the artistry of the painting in the sky. The faded blue color of its walls evoked an ominous aura.

“This must be the place,” Amherst said. “The old ledgers that I was still able to access said that the operations were from this address.” Sanchez knelt down and opened his bag. He pulled out two dresses and a suit. Amherst and I looked to one another in disbelief.

“All the things you could have possibly carried and you bring these? I thought you were holding the supplies!” She rubbed her forehead with the tips of her figures in annoyance.

“These are supplies” Sanchez explained. “You guys don’t know these Colombian investors like I do. We can’t go in there looking like this.” He handed us our red dresses and we slipped them on. Then we threw our bags in a crate near by. Sanchez led the way and opened the door. We entered a night-club. Latin music filled my ears, and thumped in my chest. The burning smell of alcohol singed my nose, and burned my throat though I had not swallowed a drop. We trudged through the crowd as best as we could trying to not get cornered into a dance group.

“This way!” Sanchez yelled over the crowd. We followed him down a hall. The music was a bit quieter and I was able to hear myself breathe again.

“Alright they’re going to start the auction soon. We are going to have to split up.” Sanchez instructed. “The auction is only for men. But when I find out where the models are entering and exiting, I will message you Amherst. Then I want you guys to take them to the hangar up the street, and I’ll meet you there.” We nodded and headed toward the other side of the room. This is abnormal. I had never seen Amherst be submissive to any man’s instructions. In the Marine Corps, as the CFO at Cosmopolitan, and even now in this endeavor, she has always taken charge. I turned to her, and saw her in a manner different than I ever had before.

“Are you alright?” I asked. Her eyes met mine. I could see through the facade and saw to her look of weariness.

Finally she responded, “I used to be the greatest, but now I am smaller than the smallest.” I was speechless. It was almost like a declaration of defeat. We stood with the rest of the women in the club by the bar and spoke nothing about what had just transpired. My spanish is broken, but I could understand that the other ladies had asked us which man we came with and how much he paid us. Amherst engaged in most of the conversation.

“¡Hola y bienvenido estamos apunto de comenzar!” A man announced over the loudspeaker. We turned our attention to the stage; one by one women were brought to the center of the stage in a crimson gown with an opaque white veil covering their faces. A man rambled in spanish, padels went into the air, and bids were placed. Then one woman trudged onto the stage struggling to fight off her escort in glad defiance. The crowd roared and cheered. One man offered over 15 million colombian pesos which is the equivalent of 5,000 dollars. I nudged Amherst to see if she had heard from Sanchez yet, but she had not. I squirmed in my dress waiting for a message from Sanchez. I could see him in the balcony. He was yelling with a man who was dressed in a stately manner, seated in a reserved section, and wearing a profound dagger-shaped pendant around his neck. I watched them bicker, but I couldn’t wait any longer. I pushed through people until I got to the foot of the stage. I watched as the next model walked off the stage steps, and I inconspicuously followed behind them.

“¡Ay! ¿Qué estás haciendo aquí?” A man grabbed my arm and pulled me into a room with other women. I watched as one of them were pulled to the door, had a veil thrown over their face, and escorted to the stage. Immediately, I messaged Amherst who had been frantically searching for me. She ducked through the crowd and made it to me.

“What happened to Sanchez?” She asked in between breaths. I shrugged and we locked the door behind us. We began to calm the girls down and coax them into following us. One of them, who had just entered the room from her auction on stage, ran toward me and embraced me.

“Mikki! I’m so glad you’re here!” She sobbed. I stood there like a living statue. “You probably don’t know me, but I know you. I used to see you around the office at Cosmopolitan. You were always there with a smile.” She turned to the rest of the girls. “Esta bien, son Americano; son aquí a ayudarlos!” She cried. The other models murmured in skeptical agreement, and followed us to the hangar up the street. We had not heard from Sanchez yet, and I was beginning to worry. Behind us I could hear a brawl from within the night-club: they knew he had left.

“¡Rápido señoritas, rapido!” I begged them to move faster. We made it to the hangar, and Sanchez walked in as soon as we arrived. His eyes were bloodshot red, and his clothes were stained with blood. The ladies shrieked at the sight of him.

“What happened to you?” I pleaded. He staggered past me, and dragged his feet up to one of the models. Each step was slower than the first. She turned around to meet his gaze, and fell into his arms.

“Esmeralda” Amherst whispered. This girl who had recognized me before, had worked with me in the States all along. A crashing sound severed the warmth of the moment. A Chevy Suburban crashed through the vinyl siding of the hangar walls. Three men jumped out with M27 machine guns, and began shooting one of which was the man from the night-club. The dagger-shaped pendant swung violently as he jumped out the truck.

“El Jefe!” The women cried out and ran to the nearest aircraft at the instruction of Senor Sanchez. Some did not make it that far. Amherst went to hold off as many of the men as she could. The plane began to pull out of the hangar and into the runway.

“Do you know how to fly this thing?” I yelled to Sanchez over the jets. “It’s not a fighter jet.” He did not respond. I looked to the ladies who had made it to the aircraft. So many of them weeped for the loss of the young girls still lying in the hangar.

“He will not take these tears any longer.” I looked at Esmeralda earnestly for an explanation. “Every woman he has sold, that man, El Jefe, collects their tears and wears them around his neck in that despicable dagger-shaped pendant. Our containment was comprised of constant weeping and gnashing of teeth.” We were at the center of the runway now; ready to take off. I could feel the long awaited American soil underneath my feet. We were kissing the brink of freedom. I peered out the window to see the Suburban barreling toward our plane.

“El Jefe, El Jefe!” The women cried out in terror. But it wasn’t him, I could see past the vehicle to see El Jefe himself on the ground with the very dagger he had worn pompously in his chest: it was Amherst. Sanchez began to propel the plane forward for ascension. I pleaded for him to stop, but it was moving too fast. I was stricken with fear for feeling powerless. Cowardice had once again consumed me. I tried to move, but everytime I picked up my feet it felt as though they were dried in blocks of cement. I struggled with Sanchez in the cockpit to slow the plane down. I could see the very cowardice in his eyes that my own possessed. Quickly, we slowed the plane down long enough to allow us to pull Amherst in. The plane sped up to ascend again, and everyone had a moment to catch their breath. I began to tend to Amherst’s wounds when suddenly the plane took a nosedive. The moment was surreal. The concept of sound and gravity no longer existed. Sanchez screamed about the United States’ injustice to immigrants, and it wasn’t much longer until we were a the ground. My long awaited desire to kiss the soil had come, but this time I was in the soil: we perished.

Ever since that loss I stopped. I am nothing more than a teacher giving advice on what not to be me. Back in my day I used to be the greatest, but now I am smaller than the smallest upcomer. I took much damage to fully recover and even then you can tell I was no longer the same. No longer that unlimited confidence and boldness. It was replaced with fear and laziness.