Broken Dreams (The Chronicles of Mara Lantern, Book 5) by D.W. Moneypenny

sandwich now?” he asked.
    “Please, put something in your mouth.”
    Ping cleared his throat. “Something aphotic thrives in darkness. Does that have something to do with this demon that possessed your friend?”
    “I believe that’s where the name comes from,” Mara said. She wadded up her napkin and tossed it onto her plate which still held half of her sandwich.
    “I’m more interested in the nature of this creature and where it is at the moment than I am in its etymology,” he said.
    “The nature of the Aphotis is this. It’s a dead man’s soul that possessed my friend Abby and believes it has a metaphysical calling to battle me in some twisted effort to define the nature of Reality. As far as what happened to it, I can’t tell you that. It sounds like we should talk to Ping— our Ping—and see if he has any thoughts about why Abby showed up in this realm without it.”
    “Is there a chance that this thing is loose in our realm?”
    “I don’t know. I just got here. Remember?”
    He turned to Sam, who shrugged while continuing to chew.
    “It concerns me that something noncorporeal might be loose in this realm—which is, in essence, a noncorporeal Reality. The dangerous threat to the minds of the people who live here could be significant,” he said.
    “I don’t see the point in getting worked up before we confirm we have a problem,” Mara said. “For all we know, the Aphotis is still stuck in Abby’s body in the receptacle.”
    “Clearly you were concerned enough about this creature to cross over to this Reality,” Ping said.
    “After I communicated with Ping—our Ping—I thought the black holes, or chasms as you call them, were caused by the Aphotis. The people’s fear affected their physical bodies back in the receptacles, and the repository doctors were getting concerned. So that’s why I crossed over. I had no idea that my counterpart’s absence had occurred or that it had caused the problem.”
    “So now that you’re here, the black holes have stopped?” Sam asked.
    “It would appear so,” Ping answered for her.
    “I guess one progenitor is just as good as another,” Sam said.
    Ping turned to Mara. “We refer to the Mara from this realm as the progenitor because it is from her mind that this Reality came into being. Since you are not from here, I find it odd you seem familiar with the term. Are you known as the progenitor in your realm?”
    “Yes, she is,” Sam said.
    Mara raised a hand and wiped the air as if erasing his words. “No, I am not known as a progenitor throughout my realm. Not like the Mara in this place.”
    “But you are familiar with the word—progenitor?”
    “Yes, but we define it differently than you do. I am not responsible for creating the realm in which I live.”
    “But she can shape Reality with her mind,” Sam said.
    A tall sandy-haired man in his mid-forties stepped into the kitchen from the hall. “Really? I bet that’s quite something to see.” He grinned as he entered the room. His features turned more serious as he approached the table, his gaze locked on Sam.
    Mara, whose back was to the kitchen’s entryway, recognized the voice and gasped. Twisting in her chair, she grabbed its back and held on tight.
    “Dad?”
     

CHAPTER 9
     
     
    Her father—or rather, her counterpart’s father—patted Mara’s shoulder but didn’t look at her or say anything when he walked to the table. His face had gone ashen as he stared at Sam, who stared back, mute, with a glint of hope in his eyes. Though she knew the details were likely different in this realm, she was sure she understood the tension in the room. While Ping had said a few minutes ago that her counterpart did not have a brother, that didn’t mean she had never had one. After all, the Sam from her realm had died as an infant, and she didn’t find out this until discussing it with her mother—after Sam’s arrival during the crash of Flight 559 when he had crossed over from his