Jackson sat at the dining room table, nibbling on his toast. He was still thinking about last night.
Usually by now, he had forgotten his dreams completely, but the memory of that particular dream remained.
He could still remember the stone walls, the torchlight, and the tapestries. He could still remember the medieval guards sleeping at attention. He could remember the embarrassing bath he was given.
He still wondered if it was real, but it couldn't have been. After all, he was right there in the flesh, back at home. Nothing had changed from the day before.
Just then, Mark walked in and sat at the table with a bowl of cereal. Jackson's mom was in the kitchen, blending a smoothie for herself.
"I had a pretty weird dream last night," Jackson said aloud.
There was no response from either of them.
Mark was still half asleep, and his mom was most likely still mad at him. He supposed that's how things were going to be for the next few days. It was a little lonely.
His cell phone was waiting for him in his mother's sock drawer. He would try to text one of his friends after his family left.
At least, he hoped that his friends would still talk to him. They were all in the same friend group as Beck, so it was anyone's guess which side they would end up taking.
Sophie walked in pretty late in the morning, but she often skipped breakfast, so it was no surprise. Jackson's mom was just finishing the last of her smoothie when she saw the time.
"Oh, we've gotta go," she said urgently. "Come on, Mark, grab your backpack. Sophie, can you drive today?"
Sophie looked a little nervous. "Um, yeah, okay," she said.
Sophie was fifteen-years-old and still learning to drive. There had already been a few close-calls on the road with her at the wheel.
She had only had her learner's permit for a few months, and she hated driving when Mom was around. She clearly preferred Dad's coolheaded nature of teaching to Mom's worrywort style.
Sophie grabbed the keys off the key ring near the door, and the rest of the family started rushing out.
"Jackson, wash the dishes, and then go straight to your room," his mom said. "I left your homework on the desk there."
"Yeah, yeah," Jackson responded.
Once everyone was gone, and he heard the car pull out of the driveway, Jackson stuffed the rest of the toast in his mouth. He grabbed his and Mark's dishes and put them in the sink, planning to wash them later.
He shuffled over to his mom's room and creaked the door open. His mom usually kept things pretty clean in her room, so there was no mess.
He went straight for the sock drawer and started digging. Sure enough, his cell phone was in there, and he turned it on.
Jackson's cell phone came on after a few minutes, and he opened his friends' group chat.
Jackson Cooley has been removed from this group, displayed at the bottom of the screen.
"What?" Jackson said, dumbfounded. "So they're on his side, are they?"
Jackson was furious.
Was that how things were going to be? Not only Beck, but his entire friend group was just going to push him out?
Jackson paced back and forth in his mother's room, steaming. No one respected him. They were never his friends in the first place.
Jackson's pacing got faster and faster. He had the urge to hit something. He threw out his arms wildly, and his phone went flying, slamming into the wall. He paced over to it and saw a huge web of cracks on the screen.
"Oh no," he said. "No no no NO!"
Jackson frustratedly shoved the phone back in the sock drawer and slammed it shut. He ran out of the room and into his bedroom. He screamed into a pillow, then started punching it.
His tantrum lasted about five minutes before he finally ran out of energy. He lay down on his bed, eyes burning, muscles aching.
Just once, he wished that things would go his way. He remembered his plan to ignore everyone at school; what his friends had done only solidified that idea in his head.
"Screw them. Screw everyone!" Jackson yelled.
He rolled over to see the pile of homework his mom was talking about. He had no intention of doing it, but then gave it a second thought.
Maybe if he could stay under his mom's radar long enough to move out, the next four years could go easier. The desk was chock-full of Mark's random garbage. So instead, Jackson decided to do his homework somewhere else.
He got up and grabbed the pile, then went to the kitchen table to try and get through his homework as fast as possible. He sat down and opened his math book; it was barely held together by a thread.
Jackson opened the book and sighed.
. . .
Over the next several hours, Jackson struggled to focus, trying to understand the math lessons that he worked so hard to avoid throughout the year.
He read through one page several times, but things just weren't making sense to him. He wished he had someone around to explain it.
He cranked out a few answers onto the sheet of paper, but wasn't overly confident about what he'd written. Unfortunately, if he were going to understand this stuff any better, he would have to start paying attention in class.
Jackson squealed in frustration. "This is gonna take forever."
He really wanted to quit, but he was still angry—which was an effective motivator. He went back to the books and continued trying to conjure some semblance of the correct answers.
After a few more minutes had passed, his hand was starting to cramp up, and his head was starting to pulse. He really didn't want to think anymore. Maybe if he just took a little break…
Jackson stood up from the kitchen table and walked back to his mom's room. He yanked open the sock drawer and pulled out his phone.
The cracks were severe; he wondered if the thing would still turn on. He pushed down the button and waited.
Nothing happened.
"Come on, come on," Jackson said, as if urging a corpse to wake.
While waiting, Jackson suddenly heard a car pull into the driveway. His family was back home.
He was shocked at how quickly the time had passed, then realized where he was. His mom would be in at any second and see him in her room.
Jackson panicked, shoving the phone back in the sock drawer. He fumbled with the drawer as he closed it and ran toward the door.
Mark busted into the house and ran to the hallway.
Jackson froze.
His little brother walked by without noticing him.
Jackson heard the others enter the house. He stayed in his mom's room. He paced for a few seconds, trying to think of a place to hide. He pulled at the window, hoping to sneak out, but it didn't budge. He heard his mom's voice.
"Jackson!" She called. "Why did you leave all these books on the kitchen table?" She started walking down the hall.
Jackson looked back, but didn't respond. His eyes darted to a spot under his mom's bed, and he dove, rolling into the dark crevice.
Mark walked out of the bathroom. "Hey, Mom, can I have—"
"Just a second, kiddo, I'm getting a call from your dad." Jackson's mom paced the hallway, answering the phone. "Hi, honey," she said as she entered her bedroom and closed the door.
Jackson was sweating at this point, trying not to make a sound as he lay under the bed.
"Where are you?" His mom asked, still on the phone. "Memphis? Ok."
A pause.
"It was good, just… hectic. I picked up the kids from school. Jackson stayed home today. He was suspended."
A pause.
"I don't know," she complained. "He's been acting horrible lately. He's always trying to start a fight. He ignores me. I don't know what to do anymore. I wish you were here."
A pause.
"I know, I know. I'm not blaming you, it's just… Everything was fine when you were around every other weekend, but this schedule… The kids never see you anymore.
"Jackson isn't the only one who's angry. Sophie has been completely off the rails. She spends more time with friends than at home. She treats me like the devil. Then Mark is… logged out, I guess. He barely ever looks up from his tablet."
A pause. Jackson noticed something across the room that sent ice through his veins.
His mother's drawer had a red sock sticking out of it. He had been careless when he closed the thing. He crossed his fingers, hoping she wouldn't notice.
"Um, maybe three months, now?" His mom said. "Wow, has it really been that long? I guess time flies when you're busy."
A pause.
"Okay, that's alright. I have to go, honey. Jackson left a mess on the table, and I still have to cook dinner."
A pause.
"Don't worry. I have a plan for that kid tomorrow. It should teach him a lesson."
Jackson wanted to groan, but stifled it.
"Okay, talk to you later. Bye."
His mother let out a long sigh. She sat on the bed for a few more seconds before standing up.
"Huh?" She suddenly said, walking over to her drawer. She knelt down, and Jackson got a look at her face as she studied the sock sticking out.
She opened the drawer.
Jackson held his breath.
Her hand paused at the drawer for a moment, then she put the sock back inside and closed the drawer.
Jackson held his breath long enough for his mom to leave the room, then he rolled out. He heard her walking back to the kitchen.
This was his chance.
Jackson slipped out of the room and walked toward his own.
"Jackson!" His mom called, louder this time. "Come here!"
He turned around and went to the kitchen. "What?" He answered in an irritated tone.
"What is this mess?" She asked in condescension.
Jackson gestured to the pile of papers and books on the table. "My homework. I've been doing it all day," he said indignantly.
She looked at him doubtfully. "Sure you were… Like you were when I walked in?"
Jackson grunted. It was bad enough to actually do the thing, but so much worse that his mom didn't even believe that he'd done it.
Flying under the radar was going to be a lot harder than he thought. Why did his mom have to come home right when he was away from the table? He sat down and started working.
Jackson's mom wasn't done with him. "You're supposed to be doing that in your room."
"My desk is full of Mark's junk. I needed space to work," Jackson protested.
"Then I'll tell him to move it, but you're going back to your room," his mom said firmly. "Now get this stuff off my table."
"Fine!" Jackson shouted angrily, packing up all the books and papers in a rough manner.
He stomped over to his room and threw the armload onto his mattress, then kicked the foot of his bed. He folded his arms and sat down, waiting for Mark to move his stuff.
Eventually the stuff got moved off the desk, and Jackson put his schoolwork down. He sat at the desk and continued to flip through some pages of a history book. He wasn't really reading it, he was too frustrated for that, but his mom needed to see him working.
It wasn't fair that he should get treated poorly even after doing what she asked. He kept pretending to do homework until he calmed down enough to actually focus.
. . .
By the time dinner came around, Jackson was a good way through a lot of his late assignments. It lifted his spirits a little, knowing that.
He was silent at the dinner table, though. If he was really going to make it through his life stress-free, he didn't want to start any trouble.
While eating dinner, his mind was brought back to the dream he had. Nobody was interested to hear what he had to say about it. Although, he did want to share what happened.
It was crazy to him. He wanted to know if anyone else had gone through the same thing; or at least if anyone had a dream that felt so real—to the same degree.
Jackson suddenly felt sick. He had been eating while in his own little world and ended up shoveling in more food than his stomach could take.
Luckily, he had eaten everything on the plate, which meant his mom wasn't going to say anything to him about not finishing.
He took his plate to the sink and realized the bowl and plate he put there in the morning were gone. He forgot to wash them.
He slowly turned to his mom. She was looking angrily at him. He decided to wash his dinner plate right away to try and avoid a lecture. He did so quickly, and then shuffled out of the kitchen and down the hall to his bedroom.
Jackson organized the desk a little more, putting the finished assignments in one pile and the unfinished assignments in another pile.
Pretty soon, he could start working again and put his focus back on his homework. It was getting a little bit easier to stay on task—possibly because he had been at it so long and was used to it by now. He continued on into the night, and when it was nine o'clock, his mom said it was time for bed.
Jackson lay down and looked out the window across from him. The street light wasn't flickering anymore, not since that man was there.
Jackson almost went into a mental rabbit hole thinking about that man, but he was too tired. His stomach was hurting from eating too much. He didn't want to think anymore. He didn't want to move. He just wanted to rest.
◄——————————————————►
Jackson could smell the food before he even opened his eyes. It smelled like it was just prepared and was wafting right into his nose.
He opened his eyes to find out what was cooking, and…
Where was he?
This wasn't his bedroom. It wasn't his bed.
This was… the same room he was in last night. The stone walls encircled him and the torches flickered light all around the room.
He sat up.
"There's no way!" He shouted.
Someone at a table across from him jumped, clearly startled. The table wasn't there before, nor was the person.
A woman with wavy brown hair; it wasn't entirely brown, though. Stripes of white hair stretched away from her face like sunbeams. The hair was long, but kept in a cloth pouch on the back of her neck.
She had a strong jawline, and her slight wrinkles gave her a hard face. Her eye color was red—just like the people from last night. She couldn't be much older than thirty-five—from Jackson's point of view.
She was wearing a white long-sleeve blouse and a pair of brown pants that met her gray boots at the bottom.
She was staring at Jackson intently, and suddenly opened her mouth.
Jackson was prepared to hear more gibberish.
"Welcome back," she said.
"You speak English," Jackson replied in surprise.
"So do you."
Jackson cocked his head, trying to understand if it was a joke or not. He didn't wait long before blurting out, "Okay, who are you? What is this place? Why do I keep seeing it in my dreams? I mean, is this even real? What was with the women yesterday, stripping me down and giving me a bath? And why don't I look like myself?"
"It's alright, calm down," she said, gesturing to him. "I know this is all very strange, but if you want me to answer your questions, I'd like you to sit down and eat with me first."
The table she was sitting at was full of food.
There was a basket of green rolls and a platter with a big chunk of meat on a bone. There were several bowls of small pellets that looked like grains or vegetables of some sort. There was even a large bowl filled with colorful fruits—none of which Jackson recognized.
He smelled the food again and started to drool. Just then, his stomach growled loudly.
"Why am I so hungry? I swear I just ate a huge dinner, and that couldn't have been more than a couple of hours ago," he said.
"Well, your other body might be full, but this one hasn't eaten in over thirteen years," the woman said cryptically.
"Other bod—? Thirteen years? What are you talking about?"
"Kid," the woman said impatiently. "Come over here already."
Jackson popped out of the coffin-like bed and sauntered to the table. He was hungry, and the food was starting to smell irresistible.
As soon as he sat down, he grasped at one of the green rolls and took a huge bite. It was crunchy on the outside and soft on the inside, just like bread rolls should be.
The taste wasn't quite what he was expecting—a little chalkier than normal. But in the end, he liked it just about as much as regular bread.
"What is this stuff?," he said through a mouthful of it.
"It's millet bre—" The woman paused, seeming to regain her focus. "Wait. We have more important things to discuss and not a lot of time to do it. So let me start by saying that, no, this is not a dream."
"Then what is it?" Jackson asked with his mouth still full.
"W-well, it's reality, kid. What else would it be?"
Jackson shrugged, still waiting for things to make sense.
"Alright," the woman began again, "the world you're in now is called The Interim—though colloquially known as Dai Ihmon. The world you're from is Earth, but this is an entirely separate place. Understand?"
"What, like another planet?" Jackson asked after swallowing.
"Maybe another planet, or another dimension, or a different timeline, or maybe it's something beyond our imagination. Honestly, the theories differ on that front, but the truth is that no one knows. We only know it's another world."
"Okaaay…," Jackson said moving his eyes back and forth. "But how am I here, and why do I look like a different person?"
"You are what this world calls an Alma Ni. Unfortunately, I don't have a direct translation for that, but essentially you're a link between this world and The World Apart—which is how the people of Dai Ihmon refer to Earth.
"Every night you go to sleep in The World Apart, you wake up here in The Interim. And every night you go to sleep here in The Interim, you'll wake up again in The World Apart.
"You have a body here on Dai Ihmon and a body on Earth. Those two bodies have a connection, but they're distinct bodies, which is why you look different here and why you're hungry. Whether this 'connection' is mental or spiritual or something in between, doesn't matter. You were born this way."
Jackson stopped eating for a minute. "Soooo… every time I go to sleep, I'm going to wake up here?"
The woman nodded.
It was impossible to believe, but Jackson did feel a sense of wonder and adventure surging inside him—somewhere deep down. "I was born with a connection to this place, right? So why don't I remember waking up here before?"
"Let me explain it like this…," the woman said, apparently flustered. "Over 13 years ago, a baby boy was born to a woman here in The Interim. The baby appeared to be still-born—dead at birth. However, he was not dead, merely asleep.
"The woman brought the boy to the palace and presented him to her leaders. The boy was then determined to be the next Alma Ni. That's you, kid. You were brought here to the center of the palace as a baby, and left to slumber until your eventual awakening.
"The awakening is when you first gain a conscious connection, and it always happens between the ages of ten and fifteen. You happened to awaken at age thirteen. Yesterday."
Jackson nodded, starting to understand. "So I always had a body, I just didn't ever control it until now?"
The woman looked relieved as she nodded.
"So I'm in a palace now… am I going to be like a king or something?"
"Not a king, exactly, but you will be a leader. Now that you're here, you can help lead the nation of Rey Oben into an era of peace and prosperity."
"Whoa whoa whoa! Lead a nation?" Jackson asked incredulously. "I'm not a leader! I'm just a regular kid!"
"I said the same thing when they told me," the woman muttered.
Jackson narrowed his eyes, trying to puzzle out what he just heard. "What do you mean?"
"You're not the first one to awaken as an Alma Ni, kid. I, myself, was an Alma Ni. But over 14 years ago, I fell. When an Alma Ni falls, it means that one of your bodies passes away. Whether it's your body in The Between, or your body in The World Apart. Either way, you are considered 'fallen.'
"The moment I fell, I triggered your insemination. There will always be an Alma Ni to replace one that has fallen. In other words, you are my successor."
"Wait, hold on. So you died on Earth? And I was born? But you were like me? You're from Earth, then? Is that why you speak English so perfectly? You're American?"
"We can talk about me later. Right now, you need to continue eating. You won't stay awake for long," she said, gesturing to the meat on the table.
Jackson grabbed a slice of meat with his bare hands and took a bite.
Once the woman was satisfied with Jackson's actions, she continued. "You aren't the only current Alma Ni around, either. There are eight others that are awakened or have yet to awaken.
"That is because each clan of Dai Ihmon has an Alma Ni of their own. You, specifically, are the Oben Alma Ni, belonging to the clan of Rey Oben."
All this information was so interesting, but hard to follow; Jackson couldn't really focus on his meal. "What happened to me yesterday? Did I pass out?"
"Yes, you passed out yesterday, and the same thing will happen any second now. You have to eat to survive, which is why I'm rushing you so much. Your body is still getting used to being active in this world, so you aren't exactly accustomed to it. Give it a week, and you should be able to stay awake normally."
Jackson's brain was still flooding with information. He talked through another mouthful. "I still don't get why this is happening. Why me?"
"I can't answer that question for you, kid. I don't know why it happens. I don't know why it happened to you anymore than I know why it happened to me. It just happened. It's real. This place is real. The people who live here are real. Their problems are real…" she trailed off near the end and seemed pensive.
"Whether you like it or not, you're here, and the people of this nation need you. They believe that the Alma Ni can make things right. They believe in you."
"But I don't even know them… I'm from the real world."
"Don't be so sure. This place is just as real as The World Apart, and you're a resident of it. For the next few months, I'm going to help you get caught up on the language and history, so that you can understand your role on a deeper level. I expect you to listen to me and try your best to follow my instructions," she looked at Jackson seriously, but he could almost see a pleading in her red eyes.
"I don't know, lady," Jackson said bluntly. "This is all so weird to me. I don't feel like it's real, or that I owe anyone anything. I definitely don't feel like leading a nation."
"I understand the feeling, but you'll get used to it. Every Alma Ni has to eventually accept reality," the woman glanced down for a beat before continuing.
"Anyway, there's another thing I need to prepare you for," she said, switching her tone. "Tomorrow is your Name Day ceremony. You don't really have to do anything during the ceremony—just take a seat and be quiet—but this ceremony is very special to The Council of Rey Oben, so you shouldn't interrupt or make a fuss."
Jackson furrowed his brow. "Name Day ceremony? I already have a name, it's—"
"Stop!" The woman yelled before Jackson had a chance to finish. "I don't need to know your name and neither does anyone else in The Between. You are never to divulge personal information about yourself here."
"Okay…," Jackson said, his heart racing a little from the outburst.
"I'm sorry to scare you. It's just that… if there's one thing I've learned in my time as an Alma Ni, it's that you can't trust anyone with that information. Anyone. You will receive a name here as well, just as I did. That's what you will use. Which reminds me, I never introduced myself. My name is Sairia."
"Sairia," Jackson repeated back. "Nice to meet you. I would tell you my name, but I guess I don't have one yet. So what's this ceremony like, anyway? Is it like the bath?"
"The bath itself wasn't a ceremony, per say. Its primary purpose was to prepare you for the actual ceremony that will happen tomorrow.
"The Name Day ceremony takes a while, but most of it is just fluff. The important part is your naming and your bestowing. The naming, obviously, because you need to have a name, and the bestowing is so that you can use… kovak. Sorry, there's no translation for that."
"Uh, okay. What language do you people speak, anyway? And what's this… kovak?"
"The language is the only one spoken in this world. It's called Ihmonic. And kovak is… well… it's easier if I show you," Sairia said.
She held out her hand, with the palm facing up. She snapped her fingers, and Jackson noticed a spark from her fingertips. Suddenly, there was a roar, and a fire floated above Sairia's palm.
It was wispy and bright, just like the flames on the torches mounted to the wall. The sight was almost unbelievable.
"Whoa! Whoaaa! What is that— what is that?" Jackson exclaimed in amazement.
"This is kovak. A power only available to the people of The Interim, and only to those who have been bestowed. Which is why it's so important to have your bestowing tomorrow. Otherwise, you would never be able to use kovak," Sairia finished, closing her palm and snuffing out the flame.
Jackson blinked in surprise. "Wait, so you're telling me this place has magic! Why didn't you lead with that? That's awesome!"
Sairia looked taken aback. "That wasn't really the reaction I was expecting," she said, then under her breath said, "It certainly wasn't my reaction."
She looked down for a second before speaking again. "And anyway it isn't magic, it's kovak. It's a way of life for the people of Dai Ihmon; it influences their culture, beliefs, wars, inventions. Everything."
"Sorry, lady— I mean, Sairia. But if you can create fireballs with your bare hands, that's magic. Or at least superpowers or something. That's so cool! You're saying I can do that tomorrow?"
"Maybe it is like magic," Sairia said quietly, just loud enough that Jackson could hear.
She looked up and continued. "Um, well, tomorrow you will receive the capacity for kovak, but you would still need to learn how to use it. It doesn't come to everyone so easily. Although, Alma Ni always seem to have a knack for it... You'll get to that eventually, kid. You might learn it from another teacher in the future."
"Aw, come on! You clearly know how to use it! You can teach me! Or are you not very good?"
"Don't be so sure. I was an Alma Ni myself, remember?" She said, before shaking off her momentary pride. "But that's not the point. Things just aren't done that way, kid. There's an order to all of this, and we have to follow it. Okay?"
Jackson groaned loudly. "Fine."
"Good. Now I don't want to pile more information on you today. I think you've had enough. But what you haven't had enough of, is food. Please eat; you keep getting distracted."
"Well, can you blame me?" He asked as he pulled some hot mash on his plate. It didn't look very appetizing, but it smelled great, so Jackson gobbled it down in half a minute.
He tried some of the other foods too, like the small pellets and vegetables, but they weren't nearly as good.
He only tried one of the fruits—one that was orange with blue waves going top to bottom. It was somewhat shaped like a pear, but pointed at both ends. It tasted sweet, but with a hint of sourness that hit the back of Jackson's throat in a way that made him uncomfortable. It must've been an acquired taste; he put the fruit down.
Jackson didn't normally try a lot of new foods, but he was feeling a little adventurous at the moment—probably because of all the talk of new worlds and magic.
After a time had passed while he feasted, Jackson noticed Sairia staring at him. She hadn't eaten anything—even though she asked him to eat with her.
She looked imposing with those red eyes. It was such a strange feature; Jackson wasn't sure he'd ever get used to it. Then he remembered that he, himself, had those same red eyes in this world.
He swallowed quickly.
"Does everyone have red eyes?" He asked.
Sairia looked at all the food he had eaten and seemed satisfied with the amount he had consumed. "No, but it's probably the only eye color you'll see for a while.
"It's a mark of bloodline and clan. Two red eyes means that you are a pure Obenite. There are many other colors, and sometimes people have two eyes of different colors, which means they have a mixed bloodline."
"I'm an… Obenite. Well, I guess that makes sense… It's pretty weird, huh? Different eye colors?"
"I'm used to it, so to me it's not weird at all," she said casually. "By the way, I already told you not to tell anyone here about your personal information. I'll add to that and say you shouldn't tell your friends and family about The Interim either, just to be safe. I'm guessing you already mentioned something about last night to someone, though…"
"I tried but no one listened to me," Jackson admitted.
"Let's keep it that way," Sairia said with a nod. 'Looks like you've filled your stomach. That's good. Do you have any questions for me?"
"Ummm… I'm not sure," Jackson said. "Let me think." He was trying his best to come up with a good question, but his mind was blank.
It was almost as if a sudden spell of drowsiness was making him lose his train of thought.
As Jackson continued trying to focus, he found himself becoming dizzy. It was happening again. His body was forcing him to leave the world behind. But he knew he would be back, and he couldn't wait to see what would happen next.
His head hit the table.