JULIANNA BAKER

The dock squeaked and swayed as Beretta stepped onto it. The wood was chipped and splintered and sounded like it could just barely hold her weight.

She looked out at the sea; it was aquamarine, bright in a way that she had not seen in any other body of water. The top of the water was foggy. Not a hint of what was under the surface peeked through, but Beretta knew that under the fogged water the sea dropped thousands of feet.

Beretta took a deep breath. The smell of salt was absent and it made her uneasy. She had to get across, to the the dock, to where steps descended into the water.

Exploring was in Beretta’s blood. She was a sailor through and through, and in her life, she had sailed across every ocean and sea. But while she had heard stories of the Oblitus Sea and the Island of Antillia right at its center, she had never been stupid or desperate enough to dare attempt to journey through it.

She wished she wasn’t that desperate now. and the next. As she moved, she felt no resistance like she thought she would. She walked, unable to see her own feet, until just her head breached the surface.

She turned and looked back, to the rickety dock and toward the town where she knew Alfred lay in the medical ward’s bed. She looked down at the water; it did not shift or sway, even with her own movements. It stayed eerily still. She felt sick to her stomach, for this was not a regular body of water. She tried not to think about what it could hold and instead took a deep breath, shut her eyes, and took the last few steps, submerging herself completely.

Eyes closed, Beretta moved blindly forward and down the steps. She moved easily through the water, like it wasn’t other side.

Though the mist blocked sight of the world above, the light went straight through it. The water around her was it did not sting. It was like breathing in a dense fog. She allowed herself a moment to get used to the feeling, and then began her descent down the stairs.

The stairs creaked and groaned with every step Beretta took. She did not know how long she had been walking. Four hours? Five? Still, she did not let herself stop. Alfred did not have long. Did not have the hours or days this journey was said to take. the clearer it became. The groaning of the stairs seemed only to grow with each step, but she could not stop, not when she was so close.

Another hour and a half went by before Beretta turned and could see the last set of stairs and the sand at the bottom. The stairs groaned louder as she came closer, until she paused on the last step. When she looked up, the the stair, her boots sinking a few inches into the sand.

The stairs moaned behind her. Beretta rushed back a few steps as she watched the stairs fall apart, turning into

No turning back. water.

She turned to the large expanse now laid out before her. The sands stretched far out of her sight. There was the tiredness in her limbs and walked forward.

Beretta’s body ached, how long had she been walking? Hours? Days? She had no way to know what time it was, or how long she had been walking. There was no sun or moon, day or night.

She never stopped moving. Never opened her pack to grab food or water. Never had need to draw her sword. There was nothing but her in the waters. There was no time. Was it too late? Was Alfred already gone?

One step after another she walked, feet sinking deep into the sand.

She had to reach Antillia, the island in the middle of the Oblitus Sea. There would be a cure there, a wish, a guarantee that Alfred would be okay.

She had to save Alfred. Kind Alfred, who had traveled the world with her. Blue eyes, stubbly chin, brown hair, and Tantivy, and sail the world all over again.

closer and her jaw almost dropped. She relaxed and ran towards the man.

Rupert kept walking. He did not look her way, or show any indication that he had heard her. She walked up to him.

“Rupert?”

He had not aged a day since she last saw him. The same amount of white hair, no new wrinkles on his face. Same shoes and leather jacket.

He walked past her, mumbling under his breath, “…glory…glory…glory.”

She caught up to him.

He did not look at her. He kept walking.

She stopped and watched him go until his footprints were the only thing left behind. His prints were so light, she had to look closely to see them at all. That was Rupert, but he was long gone.

She took a deep breath and started walking again.

She had to get to Antillia, where she could wish for a cure.

She had to save Alfred. She would see his blue eyes, stubbly chin, brown hair, and tan skin. He would wake up and they would be happy.

directly in her path. As she got closer, what it was became clear. A body. It was not broken and bloodied, it was A sword like she had never seen. Its boots were pointed and buckled in a style no one wore. She wondered how long it had been there. Ten years? Fifty? One hundred?

She shook her head and kept walking.

There would be a cure in Antillia.

Alfred, blues eyes, brown hair, and tan skin would be okay.

How long had it been? Had a day passed? A week? She hadn’t needed to open her pack to get food or water yet, so it couldn’t have been that long. She hadn’t taken a break. The pain in her legs and lungs were constant now.

She could not stop, had no time for a break. She moved at a steady rate.

Antillia had the cure for Alfred.

She walked. Her legs moved on their own. She had become numb to the pain. She had to keep moving forward. “Antillia. Cure. Alfred. Antillia. Cure. Alfred.” Who was Antillia? Was she important?

“Cure. Alfred. Cure. Alfred.” Her legs kept moving. Where was she going? She had to keep going. Why?

“Alfred… Alfred… Alfred…” Who was Alfred?

Her legs stopped moving. There was no reason to keep going. She was sore. It was time for a break. She lay down in the sand, not a dent in it for miles. BUGGING OUT Rae Barto photography

“This image was created by mixing the fluid from glow sticks with water inside a vase. The bug was just a happy accident.”

POTTED FELINE Gracie Eli digital illustration

“This digital illustration was designed in Adobe Illustrator and Photoshop. The story behind this piece stems from my own cat experience. Sparkles loves nothing more than to ruin items around the house.”

POLLEN IN HONEYCOMB John Anderson digital illustration

“Pollen in Honeycomb Pattern is a digital media piece done with Adobe Illustrator for Professor Prindaville’s Graphic Design art class. The colors and pattern mimic the way honeybees store pollen in honeycombs near the brood-nest, where they raise their young.”

SIDESTEPPING CRUSTACEAN Chris Perez digital illustration

“This piece was for a project for my graphic design class. A classmate said one of my sketches looked like a crab so I went from there.”

IN A CHAMELEON TWIST Chris Perez digital illustration

“This piece was for a project for my graphic design class. My mom told me to do a chameleon so I did it in a tesselation pattern.”