The World of Myth Magazine

Hearing the distinctive call of a whippoorwill coming from the nearby woods, Ivette blinked hard, trying to hold back her tears. It didn't seem to matter where she was or what she did. Reminders turned up everywhere. Wiping her eyes, she turned around and went back inside, letting the screen door slam shut behind her.

"Would you…?” Mom trailed off when she saw Ivette's face. "Oh, Honey," she began. "I..."

But Ivette didn't want to talk to anyone. She didn't want to listen, either. Running upstairs to her bedroom— their bedroom — she flung herself on her bed. Sobs racked her body. She heard footsteps on the stairs and ran to lock the door. She was just in time, too, because the doorknob rattled only seconds later.

"Are you all right, Dear?" Mom asked from out in the hallway. "Can we talk?"

Ivette chose not to answer. The woman meant well, but her sympathy only made things worse, and it didn't matter how many times she insisted, "I understand." She didn't. Yes, she'd given Ivette and Hannah a home and lavished kindness and what humans called "love" on them, but she wasn't really their mother. She hadn't given birth to them. The universe had. And she also had three other children to focus on, so her grief wouldn't eat her alive.

It did gnaw away at Ivette. Constantly. Hannah was her real family. Her sister, but so much more than that. They were twins and connected in a way no one could understand. They'd spent all of their lives together — centuries beyond count — and they'd always be there for each other.

For a long time, they'd studied their surroundings and watched others' lives pass by. But they'd grown bored with that. Visiting other places had seemed like the perfect plan, and that's exactly what they'd done — Mars, Orion's Belt, Saturn, Neptune and its rings, Venus, the moon and the sun, and they'd gone to other solar systems.

Eventually going to Earth had been inevitable. They'd hidden their true identities, adopted different personas, and dived headfirst into one adventure after another all over the world. White-water rafting the most dangerous waters. Sky diving. Bungee jumping. Mountain climbing. Donning scuba gear to visit ocean and sea wonders. They'd also indulged in karate, wrestling, gambling, shooting, bull-riding, and visiting ghost towns, the Seven Wonders, and more. If anything had sounded exciting or interesting, they'd done it.

Ivette, using another name, had experimented with romance, making quite a stir with her blue eyes and blonde hair, and garnering dozens of admirers. Hannah had done the same, but as a green-eyed brunette.

But the newness and excitement had worn off, and they'd decided to try something different. After studying a specific group of individuals — children — Ivette and Hannah had transformed themselves into the young of the human species. They'd carefully modified their bodies to allow aging and development.

Walking down a rural Texas road by themselves, they'd been seen and picked up by police. They’d claimed to have no memory of their parents or prior home. No one had truly questioned this, instead reasoning that kind of thing could’ve been caused by a variety of factors. The authorities had concluded they must have been about eight years of age, placed them in foster care, and given them names. They were adopted together in a matter of months, and it hadn't taken them long to conclude that Lorna and Dave Jones, their adoptive parents, were good people and the best planet Earth had to offer.

Being children had been everything Ivette and Hannah had hoped — and more. Although they'd originally planned to remain only a year, they’d been reluctant to go, and the one year had turned into eight over time. They'd experienced living in a family, going to school, making friends, and even having pets, although they'd communicated with animals on a different level than those around them. From day to day, they'd been frantic to learn and feel and do. They'd read — devoured — book after book and material on the internet in the human way rather than by just magically absorbing things. Trees had fascinated them, along with plants, animals, snakes, bugs, and everything else, and they'd briefly merged with one life form after another. Birds had been their latest focus, and they'd learned each variety's distinctive chirps and whistles. Whippoorwills had been their favorite, and they'd taken turns responding each time they'd heard one.

They'd found their new "family" fascinating, too, especially in how deeply they'd felt love and caring. In fact, the twins weren’t in any hurry to leave.

But everything had changed eleven days earlier as they'd walked home from school. A passing bus driver had lost control of his large vehicle after a blowout and plowed right into Hannah. In the blink of an eye, she'd been motionless on the ground with her blood pooling around her.

Ivette had spoken to her sister, shaken her repeatedly, and screamed, but Hannah had remained silent. Ivette had tried to touch the other girl's mind, but her efforts had been in vain, and she'd felt sheer nothingness. Even after watching Hannah's body go into the ground a few days later, Ivette hadn't accepted that. She'd concentrated on her twin as hard as she could again and again, but she hadn't been able to detect Hannah's consciousness anywhere.

They had never imagined anything like that happening. Neither had suspected her life would end or could end.

"Honey," Mom said now, tapping on the door. "I put together a plate of food for you."

Ivette cleared her throat and forced herself to respond. "I'm not hungry but thank you."

"You have to eat, Ivette. Our bodies need food."

"I know, Mom. Maybe later."

"All right, Dear. If you change your mind, though, the food will be in the refrigerator."

"Thank you." The very thought of eating nauseated Ivette. She hadn't felt hunger for days, even though she and Hannah had eaten regular meals throughout their years on Earth. Doing so had seemed normal and they'd reasoned someone might've noticed if they hadn't. But they'd wondered if modifying their essences had made food necessary.

Thinking about it again, Ivette realized they must have needed food, because her parents had told her several times lately that she'd lost weight and she'd confirmed it on the bathroom scale.

For maybe the thousandth time, she reached out mentally for Hannah but shuddered when she still found no trace. Agony shot through Ivette. She felt bereft — hollow — and like a part of herself was missing.

The following night

Ivette's stomach churned.

Dad reached over, squeezed her shoulder, and she got a good look at his eyes. They revealed how troubled he was. "Losing someone you love hurts, Sweetheart," he said quietly. "But our bodies require food to be strong, and we haven't seen you eat much of anything for days."

"I'm fine," she replied automatically.

"No, you're not," he insisted. "Either your mom or I will take you to see the doctor tomorrow. We love you and don't want anything to happen to you."

"Thank you for caring." Ivette knew he had no idea how very much she meant it. She and Hannah had discussed that very thing. Being loved by their Earth parents had been new for them because they'd never shared a true bond with anyone but each other, and they'd felt astounded at the depths of their own feelings for their adoptive family. Ivette gazed at her father now, then her mother, read the worry in their eyes, and forced herself to eat a green bean and a bite of dinner roll.

Three nights later

As Ivette lay on her bed and stared up at the ceiling, she felt listless. Not tired to the point of falling asleep even though it was well past bedtime, but blah. She'd felt like this all day long. Nothing was interesting anymore. She normally enjoyed school, but lately her brain had seemed foggy, and she hadn't done any work in class or at home. Music she usually liked had lost its appeal. Movies, too. She just didn't care about anything.

After tossing and turning awhile, she gave up on sleep. Creeping down the hall and stairs so she wouldn't wake up her parents or siblings, she went outside, roamed the front yard, then the fenced one behind their home. She finally lay on the grass in the backyard. Staring up at the stars, Ivette wished Hannah were beside her. If only they could go back in time and… But that was one thing they'd been unable to do.

Minutes passed, then an hour, as Ivette remembered her life with her sister. She finally sighed, stood up, and felt lightheaded. As she collapsed, everything went black.

She awoke in the hospital the next day with an IV in her arm and her family around her. No matter what direction she looked, she saw worried expressions. Mom burst into tears. Dad's eyes were wet, and Ivette's brothers and sister made a genuine fuss over her.

When she returned home that evening, though, she felt as bad as she had before. Nothing mattered. Nothing. She could’ve help but imagine pulling her covers over her head and drifting away after Hannah. At supper, she managed to force down two bites of mashed potatoes and one of cantaloupe, but she threw up soon after eating.

In her room, Ivette stared at the empty bed across from hers and whispered, "You weren't supposed to leave me." Tears rolled down her face and she cried into her pillow. She dozed off but woke, thinking she'd heard a faint sound. Looking around, she saw nothing, but could've sworn Hannah's pillow was in a slightly different position than how it had been earlier.

It took forever, but she fell asleep again, and dreamed her sister was beside her. "How could you leave me?" she demanded. "What about all the things we'd planned to do?"

"We're still going to do them," Hannah replied, her green eyes blazing as she studied her sister.

"How?" Ivette wailed. "You're dead!"

Hannah frowned. "Am I?" She seemed confused.

Ivette awakened with a shriek, sat upright, and gasped. For just an instant, she thought she saw Hannah standing nearby, making no sound although her lips moved. Ivette blinked and saw nothing. Obviously, her wishful thinking was playing tricks on her.

An hour later, she switched TV channels one after another, but nothing caught her interest. A creaking sound came from the direction of Hannah's bed as if someone had climbed onto it, but no one was there. Shaking her head, Ivette stared wide-eyed at her sister's bed and wondered if she were going crazy.

She left the room to go to the dinner table, ate nothing, and felt awful when she saw the fear on her parents’ faces. They urged her to at least drink a nutritional shake, and she accepted one, so they'd feel better. She even pretended to sip a few times. But she flushed the entire thing down the toilet. Once she walked into her room afterward, she froze. A book — The Sword of Shannara, Hannah's favorite — lay on her bed, and it hadn't been out earlier.

Two days later

"I've lost it," Ivette muttered. She’d continued to catch glimpses of her dead sister, which made her loss even worse. Other inexplicable things had occurred, too. On one occasion, she'd heard Hannah's voice and responded to it before remembering her sister wasn't around.

That evening, she couldn't force herself to eat even one bite. She hadn't eaten anything for a while now. Accepting a shake again, she planned to dispose of it later. She no longer felt nauseated at the thought of food. She felt nothing. Not only about food, but everything.

Ivette heard a ringing in her ears, shook her head, and hoped the sound would go away. It didn’t. She wasn't aware of anything when her body toppled to the right, then fell onto the ground, and she didn't hear alarmed voices rising around her.

Within seconds, she found herself looking down on her body lying on the floor and saw her parents frantically trying to revive her.

"Of all the places we chose to go, this was the best one," Hannah commented. "We couldn't have chosen a better family."

Ivette saw her sister in the air beside her, also studying the scene below them, and answered automatically. "Yes. We won't forget what we learned here."

"Their love was the best part."

"Yes, it was," Ivette agreed. Then she demanded, "How could you leave me? We always agreed we'd be together, no matter what. And we're supposed to be immortal, comprised of energy that lasts forever."

"We are immortal. But I think when we took human bodies and gave them the ability to age, we changed ourselves more than we'd realized."

"Losing you devastated me and was worse than anything I've ever felt." Ivette's voice shook. The agony she'd experienced had been horrendous. "I couldn't feel your presence anywhere. Why didn't you talk to me? Mentally at least?"

Hannah pulled her into a tight hug and whispered, "I'm sorry."

Ivette sobbed bitterly and her sister cried, too.

"I tried to communicate with you but couldn't," Hannah said. "I could see you and hear you, but it was like I was trapped in some kind of thick fog. But it's gone now and everything's back to normal."

"Is it?" Ivette asked, moving backward a few inches. "I'm afraid I'll wake up and find out I've only been dreaming."

"This isn't a dream. It's real."

Hannah raised both of her hands into the air and held them at shoulder-height, palms facing outward. Ivette did the same. Walking toward one another, they put their palms together. A blinding light appeared, enveloping them. Energy rippled through the air, built up around them, and exploded with fragments flying in all directions. Ivette and Hannah merged into one, then divided into two separate, glowing beings.

Holding hands, they spoke together, their voices ringing. "We are two and we are one. Joined in energy. Joined in purpose. Forever. We are Gemini."

She-Who-Had-Been-Ivette glanced at She-Who-Had-Been-Hannah, and their eyes shone. Silently sharing their thoughts, the twins studied the humans who remained unaware of their presence, agreed they'd miss their family, and agreed on something else, too: They channeled energy into the motionless body on the floor, and within seconds a completely human Ivette opened her eyes, to the happiness of her parents and siblings.

"We will never forget," the sisters agreed.

Feeling a joy all their own, Gemini shot upward through the air, leaving Earth to resume their position amid the stars. Perhaps they'd travel again someday — maybe even return to Earth — but not today.

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