Who: Kane Lewis & Ana Borodinskii What: Crazies going on a magical mystery tour! Where: Chickentown, Minnesota; later, the Abarat When: Backdated to yesterday, August 13th Warnings: Creepy?
Even though he was half a country away, Kane had felt Chickentown as soon as it appeared. One of the perks of being a magician. He was sensitive to these things, and Carrion was sensitive to Chickentown. He had died there, after all, chasing a girl within a girl. Candy Quackenbush had been endlessly fascinating, but Chickentown was such a mediocre place to die. Undignified, even. He wouldn't be dying there this time around.
Before he left to claim what was his, he grabbed Ana, asked her to go with him. She agreed, of course. The Abarat was a wonderland all on its own, and he didn't doubt for a second that she'd fit right in. So they went to Minnesota and found Chickentown. It was indistinguishable from every other small town in the Midwest, but there was no mistaking the subtle differences. The air felt different here. It felt salty, fresh, coastal. Which was strange, wasn't it? There were no oceans in Minnesota.
Not yet, anyway.
He took Ana outside of town, into the wide open fields of grass. Before they reached what their destination, he told to her to look at the ground carefully. There were shells in the dirt, skeletons of long-dead minnows, even a shard of pottery or two. All left behind by an ocean that didn't exist. He found the lighthouse without even trying; Carrion knew where to find it almost on instinct. It was just as decrepit and sad as the book described, and knowing that it would barely hold his own weight, he told Ana to wait below in the grass, and to look away from the lighthouse across the prairie. "You won't want to miss this," he said, and he climbed. Slowly and painstakingly, he climbed the soft, rotting stairs to the top of the lighthouse. Instead of a light, there was an inverted stone pyramid with a small bowl resting on top of it. It took some searching, but after a few minutes, Kane found the corresponding ball. It was heavy in his hands, the wavy lines decorating it unmistakable.
"Light is the oldest game in the world," he quoted to himself, and he tossed the ball into the bowl with ease. The air changed instantaneously, and without a backwards glance, he headed down the stairs and out of the lighthouse, joining Ana with a smug smile. He pointed out across the distance. "Look. Here comes the sea."