Bryan Davis - Eye of the Oracle

Bonnie stared at the spot where Sapphira once stood. The vision of her blue eyes and white hair already seemed to be a fleeting memory, an impossible dream. She trudged up the stairs and pounded her fist on the door. Seconds later, a woman flung it open, her eyes wide. “Bonnie? Bonnie Conner?”

The brisk wind brought a new chill to Bonnie’s bare arms, and her teeth chattered again. “Yes.”

The woman guided Bonnie through the doorway. “I’m Mrs. Lewis. Hurry inside where it’s warm! We don’t want anyone to see your wings.”

Bonnie shuffled across the anteroom’s warm carpet, rubbing her arms. Mrs. Lewis stopped and placed a hand on each of Bonnie’s shoulders. “Your being here can only mean bad news. Is your mother. . dead?”

Bonnie nodded. New tears welled in her eyes.

“I’m so sorry!” Mrs. Lewis embraced her for a moment, but Bonnie was too cold to hug her in return. “Come into my office,” she continued. “We have a lot of work to do. Is it safe to go to your house?”

“I don’t think so.” Bonnie entered the candlelit office and sat in a chair. “When Mama died, I heard a noise and ran out.”

Mrs. Lewis picked up her telephone and punched in a number. “I’ll arrange to get the essentials from your room. Do you need anything besides your backpack and some clothes?”

“I’d like my journal.” As the tears trickled down her cheeks, Bonnie’s voice cracked. “It’s. . it’s all I really need.”

Sapphira basked in the warmth of the portal’s fire as it spun dancing arcs of orange across her view of Bonnie. The foster care agency faded away, and, seconds later, the familiar surroundings of her home reappeared the enormous museum, hers and Acacia’s bedding, and stacks of books waiting to be read for the hundredth time.

She stepped out of the swirling column of brilliant white light, the dimensional portal that once led to the snake-infested swamp around Morgan’s island, and turned toward it. As dozens of white eddies twirled independently within the larger vortex, she lifted one in her palm and gently guided it out of the column, staring at it in wonder. What were these amazing portals made out of, and what did the loss of color mean? Could she now travel wherever she pleased and return to this spot?

She stepped back from the column and whispered to it. “Expand, please.” The portal slowly widened into her viewing screen, and the sound of a train clacking across steel rails filled the chamber. Light flooded her view, and vague shadows congealed into shapes cushioned seats lining the inside of a railcar, a uniformed steward checking paperwork on a clipboard, and a girl with blonde-streaked hair stuffing a bag into an overhead bin.

Bonnie slid into a window seat, leaning forward to make room for her backpack. She pulled the hem of her thick sweatshirt down over the waistband of her jeans and settled her head against the window. As she bounced in time with the train’s rhythmic clatter, she gazed at the scenery that graced the beautiful state of Montana.

During a stop at a small depot just outside of Missoula, Bonnie watched each person who climbed aboard her car. Whenever a female entered, she brushed off the seat next to her, yet, no one took her up on her silent invitation. No one even looked her way.

Finally, a girl Bonnie’s age walked in with her head bent low. Her gaze brushed quickly past Bonnie, and she sat in the window seat across the aisle. After fumbling with the zipper of a duffle bag, the girl opened it just far enough to reveal a colorful blanket, a Tigger blanket. She pulled out a book and zipped her bag back up.

Bonnie moved into the aisle seat and leaned across. “Carly?” she whispered.

The girl jerked her head around. Her eyes grew larger, and a beaming smile spread across her face. “Bonnie?”

Bonnie jumped into the seat next to Carly’s and hugged her friend close. Neither one laughed or squealed. They just held each other quietly for nearly a minute.

Carly sniffed and gazed at Bonnie through teary eyes. “Bonnie, I’ve thought about you every day for four years. I’ve never had another friend like you, and when I found out I had to move to Pittsburgh, I thought I’d never see you again.”

“I thought about you a lot, too.” Bonnie pulled a pack of tissues from her pocket and gave it to Carly. “Why do you have to go to Pittsburgh?”

Carly pulled the last tissue out of the pack and dabbed her eyes. “Well, my parents have been fighting for years, so they decided to ”

“No.” Bonnie laid a hand on Carly’s shoulder. “Don’t tell me any more.”

“Why not?” Carly pinched the empty tissue pack and dangled it in front of Bonnie. “They said it happens all the time.”

Bonnie took the plastic and crinkled it into a wad. “I. . I don’t want to believe it happens all the time. I want to believe that maybe someday I’ll find. .” She stopped and pressed her tightened fist over her lips.

“It’s okay,” Carly said, laying her hand on Bonnie’s. “I understand.”

Bonnie lowered her hand and smiled weakly. “Let’s talk about something else.”

“Okay. How about where you’re going?”

“Me?” Bonnie cleared her throat, and her face reddened. “My first stop is Charleston, West Virginia.” Her voice slowed and cracked. “My mother died. . so I have to. .”

Carly gasped and covered her mouth. “Oh, Bonnie! I’m so sorry!” She rubbed Bonnie’s arm tenderly. “You don’t have to talk about it.”

Bonnie gave her a trembling smile. “Thank you.” After a few seconds, she reached into the bin above her seat and withdrew a spiral journal from her duffle bag. As she sat back down, she flipped through some of the dog-eared pages near the front. “Tell you what. I’ll show you some of the prayers I prayed for you.”

Carly craned her neck to get a closer look. “You prayed for me?”

“See here?” Bonnie pointed at the top of a page. “I prayed that we’d see each other someday, and now look what happened.”

“God answers prayers for little things like that?”

Bonnie leaned against Carly. “Friends getting back together is not a little thing. I wasn’t allowed to write to you before, but now I can, so we’ll write to each other and be pen pals for life.”

As the girls hugged again, Sapphira stepped farther away from the screen and turned toward Acacia’s bed. The top blanket was still folded back for her eventual homecoming.

She let out a long sigh. Maybe Bonnie was right. Maybe praying for Acacia to come home would be the answer. She had returned once before, even after she had given her up for dead. Maybe it could happen again. And what about Paili? Could she somehow be brought back from the dead, too? And she could never forget Elam. If only they could reunite, maybe she could finally tell him what she had been thinking for thousands of years.

She sat down in front of the screen and hugged her knees close to her chest. The train scene zipped by, and, as the images accelerated, the details melted away. Days in the land of the living passed as only minutes ticked away in Sapphira’s chamber. With another promise to write to each other, Bonnie and Carly went their separate ways. Bonnie arrived in Charleston, West Virginia, and transferred from foster home to foster home until she moved to Castlewood. There, she met a young man named Billy Bannister, the son of Jared, who was once the great dragon, Clefspeare, still alive centuries after his transformation by Merlin.

Adventure after adventure swept before Sapphira’s eyes. The viewport displayed an animated montage of highlights that followed the lives of Bonnie, Billy, a wise gentleman named Professor Charles Hamilton, and a funny, yet heroic young man named Walter Foley, as they battled Devin, Palin, and Morgan.