The Chosen One had finally stopped tossing and turning. She had reached her limits. If she had been exhausted earlier, she was now a living corpse capable of only minor bodily functions.
She still saw Elise when she closed her eyes. That strange feeling, which had been present earlier, only lingered in her mind.
Wherever Gwyn was in the universe, elves were real. But as far as the Chosen One was concerned, they kind of sucked. They weren't regal, more so contemptuous and rude. Nothing like Gwyn expected. Well, not that one necessarily expects elves to be anything, being on Earth, but... they were assholes.
Magic was real, too, which was a surprise. Elves in magic always went hand in hand in Gwyn's mind. Unfortunately, magic wasn't something she was gifted with as a power; she had to learn it, and apparently, no one was capable of teaching it to her.
Then there was Elise... a gorgeous, kind, round-bottomed elf.
Gwyn shook her head. She hadn't considered herself a pervert or even interested in people in that way, yet something was different about Elise. Elise and her...
She shook her head a second time.
Elise was worth a hundred of the other elves as far as Gwyn was concerned. She then wondered if an opportunity was presenting itself.
Was she interested in me?
Gwyn had a faint hope as she stared at the ceiling. Her heart fluttered at the thought. Love had never evaded the young woman. She has had crushes and a sexual partner before. But there was never a lasting spark. A flicker, at most. Yet, this pink-haired elf she was almost obsessing over.
Why had she stayed with me for so long?
An honest thought that bred skepticism. Elise was beguiling, to say the least. The elf had no real reason to help. Gwyn had quickly figured out that not a single soul on Keceo wanted her to be there.
What made Elise different?
Gwyn turned away from the ceiling. The elf was still pestering her every thought.
Don't tell me I'm in love.
Gwyn turned over and groaned into her pillow and kicked her feet out of frustration. Suddenly, the only other elf she'd seen in their entirety popped into her brain: The Head Whisperer, Ren Drakefire.
His skin wasn't like Elise's. It was old and wrinkled. Crow's feet tried to claw his eyes out, as it appeared they never fully opened anymore. He wasn't as old and weak-looking as the elders of Earth; he had good posture and walked with purpose. His behavior was strange, and Gwyn wondered if others were like him.
Obsessed with bonnets.
The thought made her laugh. It was quite ridiculous, but she found it charming, in a way.
The image of the young elf reappeared in her mind. Elise had single-handedly made a terrible day tolerable, almost enjoyable.
It seemed to Gwyn that she was noticed more often than on Earth. The thought of attending Kaldere Academy also put a rock in her stomach. Being the Chosen One may get you attention, but once everyone realizes how untalented and unimportant she is? They may forget they did The Summoning entirely.
Maybe that was for the best. She was unsure.
Her mind raced with incoherent and unrelated thoughts. She slowly turned to one side of the bed. Found that unsatisfactory, then turned to the other. Removed one foot from the covers, then back in.
A gust of wind blew her blanket away. She snatched it back. Her eyes would flicker closed, to a slow shut. Sleep would be near, then the image of her father, alone, and staring at a silent television as its colors shifted in a lifeless room.
Suddenly, the image of Elise was now much more preferable. Emotion welled up in her throat like bile.
"God... Dad..."
Another closing of her eyelids revealed Gwyn's greatest comfort: the photo of the once-happy family. The day that picture was taken came like a dream.
Her mom, a professional photographer, insisted they get the perfect photograph by Lake Michigan. It was a place that held special memories for her. The late-fall sun had finally decided to show itself, and she was going to capitalize on this fact.
When you're young, everything is much taller and also confusing. The perspective is hard to envision once you age up a little bit. Gwyn remembers a lot of knees, a lot of back and forth, and a lot of angry huffs and groans.
Gwyn recalls being there for nearly an hour or maybe less. The day seemed to drag on, however.
Being asked to stand in a specific spot, smile, and look at the camera is surprisingly exhausting when you're eight years old.
Her mother was good at taking pictures and directing everything—except for her family. The day felt doomed from the start.
For starters, Gwyn's brother was far too tall for his age, nearly as tall as his father. Yet not tall enough for their height to be equal. She'd swap their positions occasionally, but was never satisfied with either of them being only on the right or only on the left.
Ultimately, she settled on them being next to each other, behind the three shorter women— Gwyn, her sister, and her mother. Something kept going wrong with them, too.
Getting a child to focus on a camera is no easy task. Getting two teenagers to also focus on the camera or literally care about anything at all? Now that could be considered a miracle.
When a photo was finally taken, the images felt lifeless.
In some attempts, her older brother would stick his fingers up his nose or give one of the sisters bunny ears.
Admittedly, this did give the photos some life, and everyone would laugh at his actions—but this was supposed to be the perfect picture! A perfect picture certainly didn't have any fingers in any noses.
All the mother wanted was one photo that, when anyone walked into the threshold of the Grim residency, the visitor would see evidence of a happy family. Gwyn's mother never had a happy family. She did now. She wanted to show the world. Have an image you could brag about—an image to be proud of.
After another session of setting the timer on the camera, retreating into position, and taking another unsatisfactory photo, the Grim family was nearing their wits' end.
"Mom," Gwyn's brother complained. "Are we almost done?"
The sisters muttered in agreement.
The father was wise enough not to say anything.
Her mother could feel her sanity slipping as one simple picture proved impossible.
A stranger happened to pass by and offered to help. After much debate, everyone then agreed that the stranger's photo would be the last for the day. Another quick adjustment was made to the tired, smiling faces.
The stranger took ten pictures. Nine of which could've been classified as the "perfect family photo". All five members stared directly at the camera, the sun shining behind them on a nearly cloudless day, and the lake's restless waves in the background. But after the camera was returned to the Grim family, one thing caused Gwyn to pause.
"What about this one, Mommy?" Gwyn asked, pointing to the camera.
"I like it too!" Gwyn's brother seconded.
"It's honestly pretty good," The father said.
Shock and perhaps a hint of disappointment crossed the mother's face.
"What is...? You have got to be kidding."
"I mean, truly, what are the odds?" Gwyn's sister questioned.
Every family member of the Grim's residence had blinked simultaneously. It could've been a gust of wind; it could've been a freak accident. However, everyone seemed to love the photo in which everyone was closing their eyes, or in the process of doing so.
Well, almost all of them. Gwyn's mother thought they looked slightly possessed by a demon or something.
Yet, the longer her mother stared at the pictures, some of them did hide a hint of frustration. A familiar feeling that arises when it's about forty-five degrees out and you keep having to say "cheese," "bologna," or other sandwich condiments.
But that photo. That stupid photo, where every family member blinked in sync, captivated eighty percent of the Grim family. And since it captivated the majority, the mother sighed, defeated, and it captivated them all.
That image now sits in the living area of the Grim household.
Even though her mother didn't get what she was looking for. One of the first pictures that day stood out to her.
When the day began, everyone was excited and ready to capture the perfect family photo. This was something that could probably be passed down for generations, they all thought.
But this picture wasn't that—it was far from it. The image showed most of the family staring into the camera, except for Gwyn, who smiled admiringly at her mother.
Now, that image may not have made it to the living room, but it did make it to the nightstand beside where the parents used to sleep, where it remains to this day.
The "perfect" family photo now sits undusted in an inexpensive frame. Gwyn thinks about it whenever she's sad.
Whenever she closes her eyes, Gwyn likes to think her family's eyes are shut too, like they're dreaming alongside her. In those dreams, all of them laugh and spend time together as if nothing had ever happened.
Unbeknownst to Gwynevere, a shadow loomed in the corner, watching her, waiting for the order.