Rochelle L. Sharpe

Chapter Three: Crossing Over.

I throw my new snow jacket into my duffle bag and zip it closed. My first white Christmas, who would have thought? It’s going to be a far cry from the sun-filled scorchers I’m used to.

I place my phone and watch in my top draw and pull out the envelope with the Tiger’s Eye in it. Relief washes over me to see it in there. Last night, I dreamt I couldn’t find the thing anywhere and Ashlyn had to go visit her aunt without me. I take the gemstone out and tie it around my neck as securely as I can, tucking it into my shirt. The last thing I want is for it to accidentally fall off.

I grab my Akubra and make my way down to the kitchen. Aunt Mariah is frying up some bacon and eggs while Uncle Scott drinks coffee at the table, reading the weekly farmer’s newspaper.

Both sets of eyes fall on me, a smile spreading across Aunt Mariah’s face.

“There he is!” Aunt Mariah grabs a plate loaded with food and holds it up. “A big breakfast for a big trip.”

They think Ashlyn’s aunt lives in Melbourne, and that we are visiting her there. I hate lying to them, but it’s not like I can exactly tell her where we’re really going.  

I sit at the table, and she places the plate in front of me. She isn’t kidding about the big breakfast, there’s sausages, tomato and mushroom to go with the bacon and eggs.

I thank her and she places a kiss on the top of my head, shuffling back to the stove.

Uncle Scott pushes over a mug of coffee. I gladly take it. Unlike Ashlyn, I love the stuff.

Rusty trots over and sits at my feet, staring up at the bacon in my hand with longing. I give the piece to him, and he devours it in seconds. He looks at me expectantly.

He’ll have to wait until the end, now.

“Ready for your trip?” Uncle Scott asks.

I throw my thumb over my shoulder, pointing to where I’ve left my duffle bag in the kitchen entrance. “Yep.”

“Are you ready to meet Ashlyn’s aunt?”

I nod. Ready as I’ll ever be, at least.

“It’s a big step.”

“Leave the boy alone, Scott,” Aunt Mariah admonishes from the stove.

“Ashlyn’s met you and Aunt Mariah,” I remind him.

“Yes, but she met us before she met you. It’s a bit different.”

“I’m sure she’ll love you,” Aunt Mariah says, placing a plate in front of Uncle Scott before sliding in next to him with a plate for herself.

I hope she is right.

Uncle Scott says grace and then we all eat. Thankfully, he doesn’t press anymore about the trip. Aunt Mariah is a great cook, and even with nerves wriggling in my belly, I can’t help but eat it all—leaving some for Rusty, of course.

Uncle Scott and Aunt Mariah see me off. I remind them that reception is bad where Ashlyn’s aunt lives and I can’t text or call. Rusty whines as I get into my ute, not happy that I’m leaving him.

They wave and I honk my horn as I drive off.

When I arrive at Ashlyn’s, there’s a little pink thing posing as a car parked out the front of the house. How it survived the trip out here is beyond me.

I find Ashlyn and Issy in the kitchen. Issy doesn’t look the part, dressed in a summery dress, blonde locks tied back in a bun and decked out in jewellery, but last Christmas I saw how much she can transform into the country girl when she wants. She probably just got here and hasn’t had the chance to change.

Ashlyn looks like she sucked on a lemon, but Issy gives me a big smile.

“Nice to see you again, Sam.”

“You, too, Issy.”

Ashlyn continues showing Issy the list of things she needs to take care of while we are gone.

Issy nods along.

When Ashlyn is finished, Issy takes the list out of her hand.

“Got it. Nothing I haven’t done before.”

“Right,” Ashlyn says, voice tight.

I don’t think she is as worried about Issy taking care of things as she is about returning to Eroania.

Can’t say I’m not a little nervous myself.

Ashlyn bends down to pick up her duffle bag and I walk over and take it from her.

“Ooh, a real gentleman,” Issy says, a cheeky smile on her face. She winks at Ashlyn. “Don’t let this one get away.”

A soft blush creeps over Ashlyn’s cheeks and I smile. “She’ll have to catch me first.”

Issy laughs, and Ashlyn thumps my arm.

I wink at her and she shakes her head.

“I’ve got this, cous,” Issy assures her. “You two go and have fun.”

Issy and Belle walk us out to my ute. I place Ashlyn’s duffle in the tray next to mine.

Ashlyn says goodbye to Belle who whines just like Rusty did with me.

Issy waves as I drive off.

Ashlyn lets out a long sigh, leaning forward, her hands tucked between her knees.

“It’s going to be fine,” I assure her.

She nods but doesn’t look convinced.

I head out to the road and drive to the bush behind Ashlyn’s property. It would have been easier to cut through Ashlyn’s property, but no one can know where we are going.

I park the ute and pray my aunt and uncle or Issy don’t decide to take a walk in the bush while we are gone and come across it.

Ashlyn grabs her snow jacket. “You should put yours on now too.”

I nod and pull mine out of my bag, putting it on and zipping it up.  

Thistle stands by a tree, waiting for us. She dips her head as we approach.

We stop in front of her and I adjust my bag, placing it on my shoulder. I grip Ashlyn’s one in my other hand.

“My Queen. Master Evans.”

I nod. “Thistle.”

Ashlyn brushes her fingers against Thistle’s cheek and murmurs something quietly to her.  

Looking around, there is no clue that there is a secret portal to another world here.

Ashlyn and Thistle turn to face the trees to the left, and I step up beside Ashlyn.

If you look hard enough, you can see two trees leaning toward each other, their branches entangled to form an arch.

Ashlyn breathes heavily as she stares at the space between the trees. I take her hand with my free one and give it a squeeze.

“Ready?” I ask.

“Are you?” her voice is tight.

“As I’ll ever be.”

Her eyes go to my neck. “You’re wearing the Tiger’s Eye?”

“Yep. I tucked it into my shirt to keep it safe.”

She nods and looks back at the empty space between the trees. A few more breaths, and then she lifts her hand. A clear shimmer forms, blurring the trees in the background. When Ashlyn drops her hand, the shimmer remains. Thistle trots through it, disappearing.

I blink, jerking my head back. You don’t see that every day.

“Together?” Ashlyn asks quietly.

“Always.”

“Three,” she begins.

“Two.”

Here we go.

“One.”

We step through the shimmering air together.

(Stay tuned for chapter four)

© Rochelle L. Sharpe, 2025.