Attorney Alyssa Stevenson is having a bad day. Not only is she late to court, she gets sucked into the fantasy world she used to play in as a child. The evil menace she and her three friends thought they’d defeated twenty years has returned, and it’s up to them to stop it. They quickly discover this is no children’s flight of fantasy, but if they want any chance at getting home, they’ll need to play the game.
I hope you enjoy the first book of Games, Games, Games.
The Regent strolled the walkways of the garden, reflecting upon the beautiful crystal growths that had sprung up this season. He marveled at the different colors and how the multitude of facets reflected the gentle glow of the lava streams. As it was a peaceful day, and had been for so many years, he slightly jumped in surprise at the messenger who came flutter-hopping across the stone pathways to meet him. He stopped to watch the youngling, drawing himself up straight and folding his wings neatly across his back to make himself appear all the more impressive. The messenger stumble-bounced to a stop in front of the Regent and dipped into an unpracticed bow.
“Good day, Regent.”
The Regent raised an unamused eyecrest. “Why do I feel as if it will no longer be so once you deliver your message?”
The youngling ducked his head, looking appropriately embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Regent. I was trying to soften the blow.”
That eyecrest rose even further. “Blow? What blow? What has happened? Tell me quickly.”
The messenger took in a deep breath and raised his head, meeting the Regent’s gaze. “It’s the seals, sir. They’ve broken.”
The Regent couldn’t stop the soft gasp escaping his lips and his eyes widening. “All of them?” he said in a low voice, almost a whisper.
The messenger offered a timid nod. “Yes, sir. I saw it with my own eyes. They’ve cracked and broken in their settings around the Well.”
The Regent stumbled backward a step, paling, his mind whirling with thoughts. “Has it truly been twenty years already?”
“I don’t know, sir. I hadn’t been born when the seals were put in place.”
The Regent quickly shook his head. He had to act, and act quickly, but he had no idea what to do. The seals had been put into place what must have been twenty years ago now by four individuals who were no longer in the world. He turned to see the young messenger watching him attentively, waiting for some sort of response. The Regent gave a quiet sigh.
“Thank you for your prompt delivery of the message, child. You may go now.”
The youngling blinked in confusion at him. “But, Regent! What are you going to do?!”
The Regent sighed again. “The only thing I can do, child. Find a way to return the Four Heroes to the world.”
Enter the Attorney
Due to city traffic, I’d been somewhat late to court on the day the hearing had been appointed. I’d only been working with my firm for two years, but when I first joined, the partners considered me to have extreme potential. As the first year blended into the second, I realized that I hadn’t as prepared to handle the stress of the job as I had thought. My workload over the past year had been heavier than ever, so my superiors started losing a great deal of faith in my ability to defend clients. With my performance slipping, I couldn’t afford to make any more mistakes, or I faced losing my job. Fate had a funny way of defeating my purposes.
“You’re late, Miss Stevenson,” the Judge told me dryly as I made my way down the aisle to the Defendant’s table.
I was dressed in my business suit, a chocolate brown in color. A matching headband restrained my mass of curly blond hair. I held up my simple brown cloth briefcase and struggled to my appointed place.
“Yes, Your Honor,” I explained, trying to sort myself out. “Due to circumstances beyond my control, I was caught in a very bad traffic jam. I called the clerk’s office from my cell phone to inform them of my delay and did make all haste once I was beyond the congestion to make it here. If Your Honor would be so kind as to afford me a few minutes so that I can prepare myself…”
“Two minutes, Miss Stevenson,” he continued, “And then I want to hear your opening arguments.”
I groaned internally and began pulling my notes out of my briefcase. My defendant, a rather poor, black college student, had been accused of robbery. Thanks to the office’s policy of doing some pro bono work, my superiors had handed me the job. I truly didn’t believe that he had committed the act, so I planned on doing what I could to get him acquitted. He leaned over and tugged on my arm. “Miss Stevenson? Is it too late to get another attorney?”
This time, I groaned out loud. I stopped what I was doing and turned to him. “Look,” I said to him in a level just above a whisper. “I’d advise against it at this point. I can do the job. You just have to trust me.”
“Miss Stevenson…” the judge began in warning.
I looked up, brushing hair out of my eyes. With a blush, I went back to arranging my papers. “Just a moment more please, Your Honor.”
Suddenly, my head was rocked by what felt like the most intense migraine I had ever encountered, coupled with a violent case of nausea. I felt myself falling backward and flung out a hand behind me to search for the seat I hoped waited there. The other hand went to my forehead in an attempt to quell the searing pain. All I remember before blacking out was the entire courtroom standing up in shock, some lurching forward to try to help me as I lost consciousness.