《Movement 2: Museum》 Chapter 1 Chapter 1 Some things become possible if we want them bad enough. - T.S. Eliot Isaac Kate perched on the iron railing of the organ loft, feet swinging in the air. Isaac sat at the bench, but the magnificent instrument slumbered. He didn¡¯t dare disturb the vast quietude again. They spoke in hushed voices; the dark grandeur of the cathedral pressed in close around them. The stained-glass windows far overhead glinted faintly as mysterious lights moved beyond. In the silence, Isaac thought he could almost hear something from up there, like distant voices, perhaps even laughter. ¡°You s-s-still haven¡¯t p-played anything!¡± said Kate in a low voice, almost a whisper. She was grinning, more at the white butterfly fluttering about than at him, and she flipped her long mass of dark hair over her shoulder. Her pale sandaled feet flashed rhythmically out from under her achingly bright dress as she bounced slightly back and forth on the rail, content. ¡°I¡¯m trying to take it all in, okay? I died, give me a break. Look, it even says on my jacket.¡± He turned so she could see the words ¡°Dead Man Walking¡± on the back of his blue jacket. Kate folded her arms and raised her chin defiantly. ¡°I d-di-died t-too, you know.¡± Isaac turned back to the organ console. He ran his fingers over the smooth ivory keys. He examined the polished stops. This organ had more stops than he¡¯d ever seen, and he had no idea what half of them were. For all he knew, one of them was Ceiling Collapses. Yeah, probably right there in between Roll For Initiative and Release The Kittens. Above Summon Online Friend, and below Find Out You¡¯re Not Really Dead (Maybe). He put a hand to his throat. ¡°Do you remember it?¡± he asked. ¡°Dying?¡± She shook her head. ¡°I f-fe-f-I fell. She g-got me out b-be-before¡­¡± She couldn¡¯t finish. She stopped kicking her legs and looked suddenly like she might cry. Isaac wanted to comfort her, but he did not know what to say. Or he did, but all the things he had to say were stupid. He really didn¡¯t want to be stupid in front of Kate. ¡®Oh, hey Kate, I see you have a speech impediment. Fancy that!¡¯ No. Bad Isaac. ¡°I remember,¡± he said. He thought about describing what it felt like to have his throat torn open by a bullet from Abraham Black¡¯s gun, but then considered that this could possibly be Tactless and Unhelpful. And besides, the memory gave him chills, made him wipe sweaty palms on his jeans. A pure white butterfly the size of a CD had been flittering around Kate ever since she came up to the organ alcove. Up till this point, Isaac had ignored it in favor of more pressing matters like not making a doofus of himself, but now seemed like a good time to change the subject. ¡°So,¡± he said, ¡°what¡¯s with the butterfly?¡± Kate smiled and held out her hand. The butterfly fluttered onto her index finger and flexed its milk-white wings. ¡°This is m-my angel!¡± she proclaimed. She raised the butterfly aloft like a falconer releasing her bird, though in this case the butterfly decided to stay right where it was. Isaac could not believe in that moment how much she looked like a heroine from the front cover of some pulp fantasy novel, albeit a nerdy heroine with round glasses and a colorful painted lab coat. ¡°Um,¡± he said after a weird pause. ¡°Cool. Where¡¯d mine go?¡± He looked around but did not see Charlie. ¡°Mine¡¯s a bird, anyway. Lots of birds. His name is Charlie.¡± ¡°Hmm,¡± said Kate, absentmindedly playing with the snowflake scarf around her neck. ¡°I d-di-d-I haven¡¯t thought about na-naming him!¡± She frowned. ¡°Or h-or-her?¡± She brought the butterfly close and squinted critically. ¡°It¡¯s s-s-some kind of s-swallowt-tail,¡± she told him. ¡°I th-think it¡¯s f-female.¡± Isaac scrunched his eyebrows at the butterfly. ¡°How about Navi?¡± he suggested. ¡°N-n-navi?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± She thought about it. Then she saw something in his expression and narrowed her eyes at him. ¡°Is that a d-d-dumb joke name, Isaac?¡± ¡°Hey! Listen, would I do that? Would I just suggest a name for your Very Important Angel just because it reminds me of something from a video game?¡± ¡°I th-think N-navi is a g-goo-a good name,¡± she said. ¡°Regardless of w-whatever s-st-stupid thing it¡¯s from.¡± He nodded. ¡°Okay. It¡¯s from th¡ª¡± ¡°D-don¡¯t t-tell me!¡± She fiercely shoved her glasses back up her nose. Isaac took his own off and inspected them. Before he died, the thick lenses had been a bit scratched. Now they looked brand new, set in their blue plastic rims. Was his whole body new? Would he still have scars? Wait, had he had any scars to begin with? There was the one on his shoulder from the bike wreck that one time¡­ ¡°W-w-what are you thinking about?¡± asked Kate. ¡°My glasses look new. Did we get like new bodies too or something?¡± New bodies¡ªIsaac remembered that from 2 Corinthians. But weren¡¯t the new ones supposed to be, like, perfect? Kate nodded and touched her face as though feeling for something. ¡°S-s-something like that.¡± ¡°I guess that makes sense,¡± said Isaac. ¡°My old body¡¯s no good anymore.¡± He cleared his throat and continued in an exaggerated Boston accent. ¡°A, uh, Critical Failure in the circulatory system. Bit of a misplacement in the hemoglobin department, okay?¡± Kate giggled and joined in with a gruff voice in the same accent, ¡°S-s-somebody¡¯s g-gettin fired over this, B-billy.¡± ¡°Well it ain¡¯t gonna be me, you hear?¡± ¡°Hey let¡¯s b-b-low this p-po-popsi-this p-pop-let¡¯sgetrightonouttahere, whaddaya say?¡± ¡°Aye, sounds about right,¡± said Isaac, his accent slipping. Kate laughed. ¡°You t-turned into a p- a pirate at the end!¡± Isaac spread his hands in a well-there-you-have-it gesture. ¡°And that¡¯s how it was,¡± he concluded. ¡°We decided to vacate our old bodies¡­¡± (he briefly considered and discarded a lame joke about insurance), ¡°and come here. The afterlife.¡± ¡°It¡¯s the M-museum.¡± ¡°Same thing.¡± ¡°Uh, Isaac?¡± she asked. ¡°Yeah?¡± She bit her lip and looked nervous. Isaac turned back to the keyboard. He almost put his feet up on the pedals before remembering what a light touch they had. How was this thing even turned on, anyway? He didn¡¯t feel the slightest hum or vibration when he touched the paneling. There were no lights, no detectable wiring. ¡°W-when you w-woke up here,¡± said Kate in a hesitant voice, ¡°w-w-what¡­I mean, if it¡¯s okay t-to ask¡­¡± ¡°Yeah yeah it¡¯s fine. You can ask me, like, whatever.¡± Smooth, Isaac. ¡°Okay. When you w-wo-woke up here¡­w-what did you think? D-did you really think you w-were, um, in heaven?¡± ¡°Woah.¡± He paused. ¡°I mean, I figured out pretty quick it wasn¡¯t Heaven. Because, uh, no God. I mean, like, not that I could see, right? But I was all like, ¡®hey, what do I know about what Heaven¡¯s like,¡¯ you know? So I thought for a while maybe I was like in Heaven¡¯s waiting room or something.¡± ¡°H-heaven¡¯s w-w-waiting room,¡± she repeated softly behind him. Isaac was thinking about what to say next when a white-sleeved arm reached over his shoulder and thunked a cluster of keys on the bottom of the third manual down. Nothing happened; the stops were all in. He noticed smeared equations scrawled in pen on the sleeve. ¡°P-play s-something, Isaac!¡± she shouted in his ear. ¡°Aah! I can¡¯t play organ!¡± ¡°Then j-ju-just use one k-keyboard!¡± ¡°Okay! Fine! Just stop shouting!¡± She shouted louder. ¡°It¡¯s f-fine! There¡¯s no one here b-b-but the D-dark Man and he d-do-do-hedoesn¡¯tcare!¡± Her last few syllables echoed in the vast space. Isaac didn¡¯t understand what she¡¯d just said or how she knew that, but he didn¡¯t dwell on it. Kate just knew things; that was her whole deal. Play what? He didn¡¯t want to play just anything , not here. Even though he was pretty much convinced by now that this place had nothing to do with Heaven, he still thought it wouldn¡¯t be appropriate to start bringing in Row Your Boat or something. The thing he¡¯d been playing for Jacob. Yeah, that would work. Wait, was Jacob okay? He readied his hands, then remembered he had to apply some stops. He examined them and stalled. ¡°W-what¡¯s the h-holdup?¡± asked Kate over his shoulder. ¡°Uh, it¡¯s the stops,¡± he said. He reached out hesitantly for a few that he recognized. ¡°I don¡¯t know what most of them are,¡± he explained. ¡°Ooh, oooh!¡± Isaac felt her bouncing up and down behind him in excitement. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Sh-sh-show me the o-ones you d-do-d-youdon¡¯tknow!¡± ¡°Okay¡­¡± He pointed out a few different rows of columns labeled with abbreviations he couldn¡¯t recall seeing before: Ard., Clr., D.M., ##, Vox Daimon, Tpt.^2. ¡°Isn¡¯t that one j-just c-cla-clarinet?¡± ¡°Uh¡­probably, yeah.¡± ¡°W-w-what d-do these numbers mean?¡± ¡°They¡¯re the length of the pipe.¡± ¡°In what?¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°In w-w-what unit?¡± ¡°Feet, I think.¡± ¡°That¡¯s s-so weird! Who u-u-uses feet?¡± ¡°Uh, like, everyone?¡±Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Ahurr-d-d-durr! L-look at m-me, I¡¯m Isaac and I m-ma-make d-d-dumb jokes! Also I¡¯m an American and use the s-st-stu-the impe-p-perial s-s-system! Well g-guess what? Navi d-d-doesn¡¯t use f-fee-f-fee-shedoesn¡¯tusefeetIsaac!¡± She proceeded to crack up with her goofy cackle of a laugh. But she brought up a good question. Why were feet the appropriate system of measurement for something as scientific as pitch frequency? Like, why did that work? Better question: why did the numbers get so big? The organs at the Methodist church in Pike had stops that went up to 16. So, sixteen feet? But here they kept going: 16, 32, 64, 128, 256, 512, 1024¡­he didn¡¯t see one larger than that. ¡°W-what?¡± asked Kate, once more creeping over his shoulder. ¡°These numbers¡­¡± ¡°Aren¡¯t they the s-si- the size of the p-pipes?¡± ¡°Yeah but look how big they get!¡± ¡°Whoa!¡± ¡°So let¡¯s see¡­¡± he said. ¡°Middle C is 256 Hertz, and it¡¯s like, what, 2 feet long?¡± Kate nodded over his shoulder; her hair bobbed up and down. ¡°I s-see! S-so the one-twenty-eight pipe would be only four cycles per s-second! Woah!¡± ¡°Yeah. Wait¡­¡± He tried to do the math quickly in his head, but Kaitlyn Carter was way ahead of him. ¡°And the f-f-five-hundred-twelve would be just one! I b-bet that doesn¡¯t even r-re-register as sound!¡± She reached over, pulled out the Great 512 stop, and struck a random note on the low end of the bottommost manual out of the five. Nothing happened. ¡°Wrong manual,¡± said Isaac. ¡°Up here.¡± He hit middle C on the correct level. Indeed, it came not as sound. It came as a pulse of force ripping through the air from somewhere in the darkness beyond, roughly once per second. He held the key down long enough to experience three pulses. He let it go. He turned in his seat to gaze at Kate and wondered if his own eyes were as wide as hers, his own grin as broad. They sat down together on the bench and subjected the organ to a variety of creative experimentations. Most of the stops made normal organ noises, albeit maybe at a far lower frequency than normal. The pipes also went up to frequencies too high for them to hear. Celeste, fagotto, tuba, vox humana, assorted mixes, etc, etc. Then there were the strange ones, indistinguishable from the rest except by virtue of being unfamiliar to Isaac. One of them caused bright ribbons of color to slither down from the darkness above, twining in complex patterns before fading when the key lifted. Another appeared to modify these colors into different shapes, thicknesses, and levels of excitability. One row of stops changed the arrangement and number of stained-glass windows on the ceiling above; another altered the intensity and movement of the strange lights above the glass. At maximum windows and backlighting, the two of them could just make out the extent of the cathedral. It looked as though a few NFL football stadiums could fit comfortably inside. Some stops produced no effect beyond a vague sense of movement, as though the entire cathedral had shifted. One stop, when pulled, made two more manuals extend to their left and right, nearly encircling them. The one next to it made part of the floor drop away, revealing a second pedal board, presumably for people with four to six feet. Isaac realized when the thrill of discovery began to wane that he had been sitting right beside Kate and laughing with her for¡­what, a half hour? An hour? More? He had no idea. They were touching, reaching over each other in their enthusiasm to try new things. The thought broke him out of the curiosity which compelled him. He looked around. Charlie (falcon form) rested atop the railing where Kate had sat earlier. He had some kind of¡­hat? No, that was the butterfly. Navi lazily flexed her wings as Isaac watched. ¡°What is it?¡± asked Kate. She stopped playing, and for the first moment in some time, silence reasserted itself as the rightful denizen of this place. Isaac began to respond with ¡®uh, nothing,¡¯ but then he caught sight of the apse and of a tall dark figure standing there, looking up at them from under a dark hat. His words froze in his throat. Only a thin, embarrassing whine escaped his lips. In that moment, he knew that somehow Abraham Black had followed him here to finish him off, and he would kill Kate too. He felt Kate leaning over to look. ¡°Oh!¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s him!¡± Isaac tried to rise, to leap to his feet and attempt some kind of escape. But where to run? A motion from Charlie, apparently awaking from sleep, caught his eye. Of course! The angels! He jumped to his feet, an action made somewhat awkward by the extra manuals hemming him in. He un-heroically fumbled with the wayward spare manual, trying to figure out whether it folded up, folded down, or slid back in somehow. Kate, meanwhile, waved at the dark figure and shouted, ¡°Hey! H-hello!¡± ¡°Kate!¡± said Isaac, at last giving up and sliding awkwardly out of the arms of the organ console. ¡°Kate, run! He¡ªit¡¯s Black!¡± ¡°Isaac, that¡¯s r-ra-raci-r- he¡¯s not b-black, Isaac! Chill out!¡± ¡°No, I¨C¡± he finally scrambled out and to his feet next to Kate. A glance revealed that the figure had vanished. Dread gripped Isaac. He could hear that dry, hacking chuckle. The cold click of revolvers cocking. A run of thick blood down those freak-white teeth, down his chin. A phantom pain flashed through his throat where the bullet had torn through. He looked around desperately. Gone. He turned to Kate and seized her by a shoulder. ¡°Kate, we have to go.¡± ¡°Isaac, I think you n-need t-to calm down.¡± He turned her to face him. ¡°No! You need to¨Cto¨Cto calm up!¡± She squinted her eyes at him and tilted her head sideways. ¡°Where¡¯s your angel? We need to go!¡± ¡°Ch-chill, Isaac!¡± ¡°No!¡± He started trying to drag her. Kate said, ¡°Th-thank you¡± and reached over his left shoulder. She drew her arm back. It held an electric bass. With a roundabout one-arm swing, she sent the body of the guitar on a course for his head. Isaac fell backwards in time to avoid the bulk of the impact, but the edge of the bass still clipped his forehead. He tumbled back against the organ bench, bruising his shoulder before falling to the ground. From the ground, he saw that at some point the tall dark figure had appeared roughly behind him. He saw also, even from his upside-down vantage, that it was not Abraham Black. Or at least some things were different, and Isaac felt oddly sure that Abraham Black didn¡¯t change outfits. This man¡¯s coat had hints of color, and he had a white butterfly resting on one shoulder. Abraham Black didn¡¯t like butterflies. The shadow of the stranger¡¯s hat obscured the upper half of his face, leaving visible only a pale, sharp jaw with patchy stubble and a hawk-like nose. His thin lips met in a slight smile. He held something in one hand, and without preamble dropped it on Isaac¡¯s face. Isaac flinched, but the impact was light. He identified the object as a hat. His hat. His woven horsehair hat from a Hutterite colony that Dwayne had given him years ago. When he lifted the hat, the black-clad figure had vanished. Kate leaned over him, the bass guitar over one shoulder and a hand offered to help him to his feet. He accepted her hand and stood up. ¡°Ow,¡± he said, touching his forehead, although really it didn¡¯t hurt much. The shoulder would hurt more, eventually. ¡°W-w-well you w-were f-fr-freaking out.¡± ¡°Who was that?¡± Isaac moved to the railing and looked out over the cathedral, but didn¡¯t see the black-clad man. ¡°It¡¯s the D-dark Man.¡± ¡°Dark Man.¡± She nodded. ¡°W-w-well, that¡¯s what I call him.¡± ¡°Who¡­uh, why was he here?¡± ¡°T-to give me this, I th- I think.¡± She looked down at the green and black bass in her hands. ¡°B-b-but he forgot a n-neck strap this time!¡± This time? Isaac watched as Kate jumped back up on the railing, leaned precariously for a moment as she caught her balance, then proceeded to tune the bass. It was really, really out of tune. It didn¡¯t occur to him until after he¡¯d been watching for about half a minute that the bass was not plugged into anything, and that the sound seemed to be emanating from the same vague upward direction as the organ music. He had questions. Who was this Dark Man, and why did he care about bringing Kate a bass? Or, for that matter, bringing Isaac his hat? Isaac hadn¡¯t even been wearing this hat when he died. ¡°S-so¡­¡± said Kate while she tuned. ¡°You w-woke up in this ch-church?¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°Hmm,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯re n-no- you¡¯re not C-catholic. V-ve-v-most peculiar.¡± Isaac looked out at the big dark space of the cathedral, then up at the stained-glass windows overhead. ¡°I h-hope the others are okay,¡± she said. She paused from tuning to check her phone. Isaac checked his own phone. Everything seemed to be in order. No service, of course, nor wifi or data coverage. That did not surprise him. He had a message, though, from a number that was all garbled nonsense. He checked the message and discovered that it, too, was garbled nonsense. ¡°I ha-haven¡¯t b-been in a church,¡± said Kate, ¡°i-in a looooong t-time.¡± Her voice sounded casual. Too casual, as she had carefully scripted this statement before speaking. ¡°Uh, I was at church just a couple days ago,¡± he said. ¡°Mm-hm. W-wh-what was it a-again?¡± she asked as she twisted a tuning knob and warped a pitch. ¡°Pikeston First Baptist Church,¡± he said, ¡°although it is also the Only Baptist Church.¡± ¡°¡®F-f-first B-baptist¡¯ is p-probably the name of¡ª¡° ¡°Yeah, yeah, it¡¯s like the name of the denomination or whatever. Hey, have you ever seen these churches that are, like, incorrectly hyphenated? Like once I saw an Evangelical Free Church but with a hyphen between ¡®Evangelical¡¯ and ¡®Free.¡¯ So, it¡¯s like, they¡¯re free of evangelicals!¡± Isaac chuckled, amused as always by incorrect hyphenations. ¡°I g-get it, Isaac.¡± Kate stopped what she was doing, shoved her slipping glasses up the bridge of her nose in a businesslike way, looked Isaac dead in the eyes and said, ¡°Isaac, do you believe in God?¡± He nodded. ¡°S-s-say it.¡± She aimed the neck of the bass at him. He looked for a joke in her bright green eyes but didn¡¯t see one. He put a hand to his head and said, ¡°Well like, it¡¯s weird for me to think of it that way.¡± She narrowed her eyes in a way which told him this wasn¡¯t good enough. He continued. ¡°I guess it¡¯s like me saying, ¡®do you believe in your aunt Becky?¡¯ Like if we¡¯re talking about just his existence then¡ª¡° ¡°Say it, Isaac.¡± ¡°I believe in God. And just to be clear, that¡¯s like the triune God as described in the Nicene creed.¡± ¡°D-do you really b-believe in him?¡± ¡°Yup.¡± ¡°Reeeeeaaaaaaaaaallllly??¡± ¡°Hundred percent.¡± She frowned down at the floor, nodded as though this was satisfactory, and made a few final adjustments to the bass. Isaac came upon Significant Hardship when trying to put the same question to her. He thought he knew the answer, roughly, just as she must have known, but he wanted to hear it. He gathered up his courage and asked, ¡°Do you?¡± His voice cracked as he said this. He cleared his throat, opened his mouth to try again, then decided against it. ¡°Phffft! Awwwkward!¡± said Kate, bursting into laughter. She gave the bass a final strum and stood. ¡°W-w-we¡¯ll see, Isaac!¡± ¡°Was that an answer to my question?¡± ¡°Yes!¡± ¡°But that¡¯s not a legit answer! You can¡¯t just say ¡®we¡¯ll see¡¯ when you¡¯re talking about God.¡± ¡°I c-can, and I d-did.¡± Arguments scrambled through Isaac¡¯s head, such as: ¡®But, like, what if you die? It¡¯s too late to say ¡®we¡¯ll see¡¯ once you see Him.¡¯ But¡­not now. Later, Isaac. Later. ¡°So¡­¡± he said, ¡°What now?¡± ¡°W-w-we got p-places to be!¡± she said with a grin. ¡°Y-you drive!¡± ¡°Aye-aye, cap¡¯n!¡± Wait. Drive? Chapter 2 Chapter 2 Eric ¡°How long has it been?¡± asked Heidi. ¡°¡®bout three hours,¡± Eric replied from the couch. He closed his eyes against the dim light of the hallway. ¡°How can you tell?¡± ¡°I just know. I¡¯m good at keeping track of time.¡± ¡°I hate this waiting.¡± ¡°Eh.¡± Eric dug around in his backpack without looking and found Kate¡¯s journal. ¡°This place is full of doors. That¡¯s like its whole thing, right? Gotta be a way out somewhere.¡± Eric removed Kate¡¯s note from the journal and read it for the twentieth time. Still alive? Kate. He closed his eyes again and rested his head back on the couch. ¡°We might have to sleep here,¡± said Heidi. ¡°Mm-hm. Way ahead of you.¡± ¡°Doesn¡¯t it bother you that we¡¯ve lost contact with everyone? Only CHIME works here, and our only contacts are the six of us.¡± ¡°Banana Quest forever.¡± He raised a fist. ¡°We just roll with it.¡± ¡°Just ¡®roll with it?¡¯ Is that your answer to everything?¡± She was starting to get mad. Eric thought up a few snarky comments but decided to keep them to himself. ¡°How can you be so passive?¡± Heidi demanded. ¡°Are you even worried about Leah?¡± Eric opened his eyes and raised his head until he met Heidi¡¯s gaze. He stared her down until she looked away. ¡°Sorry,¡± she muttered. Eric swung himself up into a sitting position. ¡°Guess we can¡­I don¡¯t know, just keep exploring? Hell, maybe we can find the break room. I could go for some coffee.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll just keep going,¡± said Heidi in agreement. ¡°Maybe try some doors?¡± Eric opened Kate¡¯s museum notes and made a show of inspecting them. ¡°If we try that, then a ¡®Dark Man¡¯ might come creepin¡¯. You seen any Dark Men yet, Heidi?¡± She shook her head. ¡°No, but it doesn¡¯t really sound like something we should be joking about. Just look at how many exclamation points there are next to that one.¡± She said this deadpan, but Eric thought he detected a hint of a smile. ¡°Right.¡± He stood and replaced the notebook in his backpack. ¡°Let¡¯s go. You guys too.¡± A large black object lay near his feet, topped by a smaller white object like a dollop of whipped cream on a mound of black pudding. He nudged it with a foot. The inky darkness uncoiled and slithered over to Heidi, where it grew legs and then waited patiently. The little white dragon tumbled off, and from the floor launched itself into the air. It flapped up to Eric and came to rest on his shoulder. A very real weight settled there, and very real and tiny little claws dug into the strap of his backpack. The dragon awkwardly nuzzled the side of Eric¡¯s head and nipped at his hair. ¡°Got a name for it yet?¡± he asked. ¡°Why does it need a name?¡± ¡°Well you at least have to call it something other than ¡®it.¡¯¡± ¡°Do I?¡± Eventually she¡¯d have to own up to the fact that a giant black snake-lizard-thing had made itself her new best friend. Didn¡¯t look like it was going anywhere. ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± he said. ¡°This way.¡± He chose a direction and led them through an archway. It entered into a narrow stone hall, which became a winding flight of steep stairs, which opened up into a dimly lit garden full of paper lanterns and metal statues. A cloudy sky overhead reflected a golden glow. All the statues in this place depicted either Eric or Heidi; the randomly placed lanterns cast shadows of stark relief. It was cold and humid, like Chicago in winter, and it smelled like the lake. Heidi came up beside Eric, caught a deep breath as she looked around, and let it out slowly, her exhalation visible as vapor in the cool air. She said something under her breath; Eric thought it sounded like ¡°roll with it.¡± Her enormous black snake slithered into a nearby shadow and vanished from sight. Heidi was wearing sandals, cargo shorts, a black tank top, and a blue headband. She was part Hawaiian; she lived in the tropics. She was obviously getting chilled already in their new environment. Time for some fucking chivalry. Eric wordlessly shrugged off his jacket and offered it to her. It was light, but better than nothing. She hesitated a moment before taking it and sliding it on while continuing to survey their surroundings. This left Eric in a long-sleeved shirt and jeans, but he didn¡¯t mind. A brick wall covered in indecipherable graffiti towered into the dark sky ahead of them. Larger buildings rose to their left, partially lit with blue lights. The lanterns filling the sculpture garden became more varied in color in the other direction. Eric held out a hand. ¡°What do you think, Frisby?¡± he asked. The dragon scuttled down his arm and perched on Eric¡¯s hand. He sniffed the air and scanned the area with his tiny eyeless face. After a moment, Frisby shrugged. Eric had never thought he¡¯d live to see a tiny little white dragon shrug carelessly and curl up on his hand. Damn. So cute. He tossed Frisby up into the air and watched as the dragon easily righted itself and soared without apparent effort up into the dark sky. Heidi said, ¡°Since we don¡¯t know where we¡¯re going, our best chance of finding a way out is to keep moving.¡± ¡°Or finding Kate.¡± ¡°Right.¡± Eric chose to go right, where the lanterns came in Crayola mega-pack variety. They walked among their own statues in the warm night. The statues portrayed each of them in a variety of stances and situations, engaged in tasks ranging from heroic to mundane. Moody rainbow lighting made weird shadows over everything. He and Heidi stopped periodically to assess the more unusual sculptures. It occurred to Eric as they gazed at one showing himself crashing on some kind of motorcycle that these might have some bearing upon the future. He voiced this thought out loud. ¡°The future?¡± said Heidi. ¡°Doesn¡¯t that seem¡­¡± Eric smiled, but little mirth backed it up. ¡°Crazy? Kate could see the future, somehow. At least a little.¡± ¡°Oh¡­I remember you saying something about that earlier. I guess you were serious?¡± She paused. ¡°That would explain some things. How does she do it?¡± Eric shook his head. ¡°She¡¯d always just laugh it off somehow whenever we brought it up. But I think I¡¯m getting an idea. She called this place the Dream Museum, right? And I was seeing her in my dreams¨Clike, the real her, not a me-dreaming-of-her version of her. And obviously we know from her notebook that she hung out here a lot.¡± Heidi nodded. ¡°Okay.¡± ¡°I wonder if this is how Jim did it too,¡± said Eric. ¡°Jimothy?¡± ¡°Yeah, he can tell the future too. Or some shit. Maybe he can only paint it. Either way, I don¡¯t think he gets it. I mean, he doesn¡¯t know when he paints something normal and when it¡¯s actually a picture that symbolizes something that¡¯s going to happen. Or something that¡¯s already happened but he shouldn¡¯t know about.¡± Heidi frowned thoughtfully. ¡°Okay, I¡¯m not buying that one.¡± ¡°Fine, whatever. You¡¯ll figure it out.¡± They continued on. Heidi stopped by a sculpture which had her holding a strange handgun while the lizard thing coiled protectively around her feet and snarled at something unseen. Seeing Heidi wrought in metal seemed legit, somehow. It suited her. He briefly entertained himself by matching materials to people. Leah¡¯s statues would be in playdough. For Jim, crayon wax. Elizabeth: antique rosewood. Isaac: some kind of plastic or synthetic space alloy. Kate, he was sure, would be saltwater taffy. ¡°Okay,¡± said Heidi, gazing upon her own angry visage. She blew into her hands to keep them warm. ¡°I¡¯ve got a name.¡± ¡°Yeah? Hit me. But not literally, please.¡± ¡°It¡¯s¡­what do you think of ¡®Bahamut?¡¯¡± She sounded nervous. ¡°Bahamut? Like, that dragon from the anime?¡± Did Heidi watch anime? Did he want Heidi to know he watched anime? Too late. ¡°Anime? No, it¡¯s from Final Fantasy. You watch anime?¡± ¡°No. Well¡­wait, you play Final Fantasy?¡± She looked away. Awkward silence ensued. Eric brought it back to the point. ¡°Bahamut is a dragon.¡± ¡°Yeah, I know. But¡­he¡¯s¡­black.¡± Eric heard her embarrassment, although she faced away from him. The eight-legged black serpent looked back and forth between them as though aware that they were talking about it. ¡°Okay,¡± he said, ¡°I mean, it sounds like as good a name as any, I guess. We can call it Baha for short, right?¡± ¡°Um.¡± ¡°What do you think, Frisby? Bahamut a good name for our friend here?¡± The tiny white dragon made a throaty chirping sound that Eric interpreted as pleasure. It flew in loops above their heads in a way that Eric interpreted as frolicking. But what the hell did he know about tiny white dragons? ¡°All right, Baha. Let¡¯s roll.¡± He held a fist out to the giant black lizard. It raised its eyeless head and sniffed the fist. A black tongue darted out and tickled Eric¡¯s knuckles. Then it reached forward and closed its jaws over Eric¡¯s hand. It didn¡¯t bite down, thank god, but the razor-sharp teeth were closed just enough to prevent Eric from pulling his hand out. ¡°Well fuck,¡± said Eric, although he had been a hair¡¯s breadth away from instead saying ¡®Aaaauugh!¡¯ ¡°Hey¡­Bahamut!¡± shouted Heidi, momentarily forgetting the name she had just given it. Eric reflexively tried to withdraw his hand; the effort shredded the skin around his wrist. He bit his lower lip for a moment to keep from making unmanly sounds in front of Heidi. At least it was his left hand. Heidi raised a fist of her own, prepared to bring it down on Bahamut¡¯s head, then realized this might cause it to bite. Frisby Wiser swooped around and made distressed, adorable little chirps. ¡°Yo Baha, ease up,¡± said Eric, sweating, shaking. ¡°Yes! Stop!¡± said Heidi, at a loss for what to do. But it opened its jaws as soon as she told it to stop. It back away and curled up near Heidi¡¯s feet like nothing had happened. Eric continued to hold his hand out. He slowly flexed his fingers. All tendons in his wrist: check. The skin of his wrist: not check. Blood dripped steadily from a half dozen tiny lacerations, some of which had shredded small patches of skin into ribbons. Note to self: those black teeth are crazy sharp. ¡°Oh god, Eric, I¡¯m so sorry,¡± said Heidi, bending over to inspect his wrist. She didn¡¯t have to bend far. She took his hand and inspected the damage, not at all put off by the blood. Right. Just for a moment, Eric had forgotten that she wasn¡¯t the kind of girl to be put off by bloody, shredded skin. Now if Leah were here¡­ Heidi watched him move his fingers. ¡°You¡¯ll be fine,¡± she said after a moment. ¡°Yeah,¡± he agreed. ¡°Unless it¡¯s poisonous.¡± He looked around for something to bind the wound with, although he didn¡¯t really care if he just dripped blood all over for a few minutes until the flow stopped naturally. Normally he would care about that sort of thing, but lately his priorities had shifted. ¡°Venomous,¡± said Heidi, but she appeared to have already lost interest in Eric¡¯s wound. She turned instead to her angel (or whatever) and demanded to know why it had bitten Eric. The thing hung its head, looking as chagrined as it could without really having a face. Frisby rummaged around in Eric¡¯s bag and came out with Kate¡¯s scarf in his jaws, which he offered to Eric. The blood had dried, making nasty dark maroon patches on the otherwise brightly colored fabric. Eric, watching Heidi and the snake thing, absentmindedly took the scarf and wrapped a clean part around his wrist. Might as well; it was already bloody. He made a few loops and crudely tied it off, the ends dangling.Stolen story; please report. Baha did not reply to Heidi¡¯s questioning, although it (he?) managed to look like a dog being disciplined. Heidi stopped and turned to Eric. ¡°What do you think?¡± ¡°About what?¡± ¡°Well¡­do we keep him with us?¡± She called it ¡®him.¡¯ Definitely some kind of bond there. That thing was hers in whatever way Frisby Wiser was Eric¡¯s. And it had killed all those dudes with October Industries. ¡°Yeah,¡± he said, ¡°we keep¡­him with us. I mean, it could have bit my hand right off, but it was, like¡­I don¡¯t know, maybe trying to be friendly?¡± When he said this, the giant black lizard-snake-monster perked up hopefully. It could definitely understand them. It could not, however, desist from being creepy as fuck. Eric wondered if having eyes would make the thing more or less spooky. ¡°Let¡¯s just keep going,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s not like we could stop the thing from following us if that¡¯s what he wants to do.¡± Heidi nodded. ¡°Okay.¡± The statues became few, but the lights multiplied. Soon Eric and Heidi wandered through a forest of lampposts, each shining with colored light. They clustered thickly enough that Eric could observe firsthand how the many colors of light joined here and there to make patches of something approaching pure white. The rest looked like something out of an insane rave. ¡°Jimothy would love this place,¡± he said. He thought he saw further change in the surroundings up ahead. ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡± asked Heidi. ¡°The colors.¡± ¡°Ah,¡± she said, although it sounded like she didn¡¯t quite understand. ¡°Eric, is this really happening? It¡¯s not some kind of dream?¡± ¡°Well¡­¡± Eric paused and knocked on a nearby lamppost with his good hand. Felt solid enough. Cast iron, painted black. It bruised his cold knuckles. He raised his other hand to observe the wound from the¡­from Baha. Still there, throbbing with pain. It actually hurt a lot worse now, maybe because the adrenaline had vanished. The foot-long trails of Kate¡¯s thin colorful scarf dangled loosely, dappled in the crazy lights. But Kate¡¯s dried blood was still clearly visible. And her book of notes on this place was in his backpack. And the light-but-very-real weight of Frisby Wiser, the stuffed dragon brought to life, rested on his shoulder. ¡°¡­yes,¡± he concluded. Not knowing what else to say, he continued on in what he hoped was the right direction. ¡°It¡¯s¡­¡± ¡°Just don¡¯t think about it,¡± Eric advised, sounding like he knew what he was talking about. ¡°Think of something else.¡± ¡°Okay. Keep going. About Jimothy.¡± ¡°Jimothy? Oh, I was done. Just saying he¡¯d get a kick out of this place. Painters, right?¡± ¡°Tell me about him. You, and Kate, and Liz¡­you always talk about him. But I guess I just don¡¯t know him very well.¡± ¡°Fine, sure. How ¡®bout a story? It goes all the way back to when we first met. Jim and I. By the way I¡¯m not like Isaac or Liz or whatever so this story¡¯s gonna kinda suck.¡± She nodded in solemn acceptance. He took a breath and went on. ¡°So I was with Isaac and we were at the hospital, just getting like shots or whatever, no big deal right? Oh yeah, we were like six or something. And we hung out all the time. So we see this other kid looking real heavy, and you know how Isaac is, so we had to go over and see if he¡¯s all right. It¡¯s Jim of course but we didn¡¯t know that yet.¡± ¡°Of course.¡± ¡°So we¡¯re like, ¡®what¡¯s wrong?¡¯ And he tells us he¡¯s gonna die. So we¡¯re like, ¡®oh shit that got real in a hurry.¡¯ He wasn¡¯t really going to die. What happened was, his big brother Mike was in some accident and lost a lot of blood. Or wait, maybe it was bone marrow?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think you can just lose bone marrow in an accident.¡± ¡°Maybe he was just sick. Whatever, I don¡¯t remember the details. The point is, Jim was around and he was a match, so the doctors asked if he wouldn¡¯t mind donating. It wasn¡¯t really a big deal. But here¡¯s the thing: Jim seriously thought he was going to die. Like, no one fucking remembered to inform this kid that donating wasn¡¯t going to kill him. But he decided to do it anyway, and nobody realized that Jim was waiting to die until after it was all done when he asked how much longer he had left. ¡°So yeah, that¡¯s how we met Jim. And he had both of us thinking he was going to die too. That shit leaves an impression, you know.¡± ¡°Wha¡­hmm,¡± said Heidi. ¡°Anyway, Isaac and I got it all figured out afterwards. And I was an idiot and was all like, ¡®dude Jimothy-or-whatever-your-name-is, you¡¯re stupid and you scared us.¡¯ Then Isaac explained to me that Jim thought he was making a heroic sacrifice so it still kind-of counts and Jim still gets the hero cred, you know?¡± ¡°Well¡­¡± ¡°But that¡¯s not an isolated example, that¡¯s just how we met. He¡¯s like that all the way through. He¡¯s a little slow and he can¡¯t keep a secret and a regular sidewalk is like a tightrope to him, but he cares about everyone way more than anyone deserves and if everyone on Earth thought like Jim most of our problems would be solved overnight. That¡¯s what I think.¡± ¡°I do want to be his friend,¡± said Heidi, hesitant. ¡°I feel like I can trust him. Don¡¯t laugh.¡± ¡°Why the hell would I laugh? You can totally trust Jim. Except to keep secrets and shit like that.¡± Heidi spoke again, so softly that Eric could barely hear her. He thought she said, ¡°Why are you all so nice to me?¡± He almost said something in response like ¡°Hey, fuck you¡± as a joke, but at the last moment he stopped himself. Probably not helpful. The lampposts became squat trees, their lights the leaves. A breeze rose, rustling countless luminous leaves against one another with a clatter like a million tiny teacups clinking together. So many colors of light from so many sources all merged into a single ubiquitous glow of illumination from every direction. Looking at the trees themselves with their hundreds of shifting lights nearly gave Eric a headache. ¡°This place, on the other hand,¡± Eric said loudly to be heard over the noise, ¡°Jim would not like.¡± ¡°Doesn¡¯t he like colors?¡± said Heidi back, almost shouting. ¡°He doesn¡¯t like loud noises, especially when they¡¯re sustained like this. And he¡¯d trip on these roots. Also these lights would give him seizures. That probably should have been the first bullet point.¡± ¡°Is he epileptic?¡± asked Heidi. Eric shrugged. ¡°He just shuts down if he¡¯s overstimulated.¡± ¡°Well, I don¡¯t like it much either,¡± said Heidi. Baha, a lone patch of darkness in this bright place, seemed to share Heidi¡¯s opinion. He crawled slow and low, head swiveling on high alert. Eric had lost track of Frisby; he had perfect camouflage here. One tree had a door in it. Not a rustic Keebler-cottage door, but a fancy high-class hotel door with gilding on the polished oak and flowery patterns carved into the misted glass of the windows. Eric glanced at Heidi, saw her raising her eyebrows at him, and entered. Someplace out of the noise and the cold seemed good to both of them. Baha darted through the opening in a flash before Eric could take his first step. The creature disappeared at once into the velvety darkness beyond. Eric stepped through, followed by Heidi. The door swung shut smoothly behind them, shutting them into a warm silence. ¡°Where are we now?¡± whispered Heidi. ¡°Dunno, can¡¯t see shit,¡± Eric replied. ¡°Why are we whispering?¡± As soon as he asked, he realized that the sound of the clattering leaves had vanished. ¡°Why are you asking me, anyway? Like I would know where we are? I haven¡¯t known where we are for¡ª¡° ¡°Okay, sshhh. Look.¡± ¡°Again, I can¡¯t see shit.¡± But he saw a pale figure that swooped through the darkness overhead. Frisby. And as his eyes adjusted, he perceived a dim light. He heard Heidi shuffling carefully through the darkness toward it. He followed and almost immediately ran into something. Groping at it in the darkness revealed it to be a chair. And near it, a table. He edged around this obstacle and followed after Heidi. More chairs and tables, all empty. They became faintly visible as his eyes adjusted. And now he smelled something delicious. Something spicy and oriental. Were they back in the real world? Some huge, empty, dark restaurant? No, of course not. When he caught up with Heidi, he saw that the illumination came from low hanging lights. Pool-table lights. They hung over a long buffet table, heaped with steaming Asian foods. Chinese? He wasn¡¯t sure. ¡°It¡¯s Thai,¡± said Heidi as though reading his thoughts. ¡°Is it¡­real?¡± he asked. Then he realized he had just done the same dumb thing she¡¯d been doing, asking her as if she knew anything about this place. Just as quickly, he realized that it didn¡¯t fucking matter because he was so hungry he was about to eat this food whether it was real or not. Heidi took a broad, shallow bowl from one end of the table and scooped some noodles into it. She broke a pair of chopsticks and expertly sampled some noodles. She nodded. ¡°Real.¡± ¡°Excellent.¡± It was the kind of buffet where you design your own bowl of food. Heidi helped him. ¡°Did you know,¡± he told her at one point, ¡°that Kate eats everything with chopsticks? She has like a million pairs.¡± ¡°Why?¡± He shrugged. ¡°Why does she do anything? She designs sci-fi gadgets, sleeps in a pile of stuffed animals, and has a kangaroo for a pet.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a wallaroo.¡± ¡°That¡¯s worse.¡± Heidi smirked. ¡°Stuffed animals?¡± ¡°Yeah she¡¯s all about Disney and stuff. Anything that¡¯s ¡®cute,¡¯ although she¡¯s got a pretty bizarre definition of that word sometimes. Also she¡¯s a vegetarian.¡± ¡°Why are you listing all of Kaitlyn¡¯s quirks?¡± ¡°I think, like, I want to keep talking about her in the present tense, you know?¡± Heidi considered this while spooning some peanuts into her bowl. A looming, dark window took up most of the visible area of the nearby wall. A single table lit by a chandelier stood in front of the window. The chandelier was presumably hanging from something, but Eric could make out no ceiling in the darkness above. Two bowls waited at the foot of this table: a large black one containing hunks of raw meat and a small white one containing assorted nuts and dried fruit. The angels had already found them and dug in without waiting for Heidi and Eric to arrive. The sounds that Baha made as he ate were horrible, but he wiggled his body happily like a dog wagging its tail. Eric saw no sign of whoever had prepared this meal. The show began while they ate. From the depths of darkness beyond the window came creatures of color and light, like bats or butterflies folding in on themselves, imploding and extending in bursts of gold, sapphire blue, blood red, lime green. The light they exuded moved through the darkness like ink blooming in water. Not until they got close enough to cause ripples did Eric understand that they did indeed exist in some liquid medium, and that the surface of the medium was on the vertical plane, set just a foot or so back from the window. He and Heidi were looking down at the water, as if gravity was sideways on the other side of the window. He refused to let this astonish him. The creatures in the water danced a complex, almost-choreographed, almost-synchronized ballet. They threw out dissolving clouds of phosphorescence and occasionally touched the surface to create patterns of glimmering ripples. Were they intelligent? Eric tried waving at them. Was that one of them waving back? Hard to say. Maybe they didn¡¯t want to be interrupted in what they were doing. What were they doing? It sure seemed like a performance for the benefit of himself and Heidi. He and Heidi, Baha and Frisby, all watched for about a half hour. The routine never grew old nor repeated as far as he could tell, although the novelty of it did eventually fade. ¡°I think it¡¯s a story,¡± said Heidi. Eric looked at her, then back at the show. ¡°Huh?¡± he said, intelligently. Heidi pointed. ¡°That one keeps running away from the others,¡± she said, ¡°and that other one keeps stopping her.¡± She said this in complete seriousness. Eric watched her closely to be sure she wasn¡¯t trolling him, but she seemed fixated on the window. ¡°Wha¡­how can you even tell them apart? And ¡®her¡¯?¡± The living lights in the sideways water disappeared as silently and mysteriously as they had come. Frisby Wiser tapped Eric on the shoulder and offered him a piece of dried apricot clutched in his tiny pale claws. Eric took it and popped it in his mouth. Salmonella? Probably not. After all, Frisby was a stuffed animal until a few hours ago. Also, it was probably rude to think of his angel as a carrier of disease. Baha saw this occurrence, even without eyes. He perked up with an idea, slithered over to his own bowl, then offered Heidi a leftover fragment of shredded raw meat in his open jaws. To Eric¡¯s amazement Heidi initially looked as though she were about to take it out of a grim sense of duty, but in the end she refused. Baha hung his head, then got another idea to try with Eric. He prodded the dripping, raw gift toward Eric a few times as if to say, ¡®here, take it.¡¯ Maybe he was trying to make up for nearly biting him earlier. Eric took a fork from his plate and skewered the chunk of meat, roughly the size of half a steak. He held it up, to Baha¡¯s evident delight. The creature returned to Heidi and slithered into a satisfied pile around her feet. ¡°Well then,¡± said Eric as he dropped the skewered hunk of meat onto his empty plate. ¡°We gonna keep going?¡± Heidi sighed. ¡°Sure.¡± Her tone made it clear she considered such action useless but inevitable. They rose and departed from the table. Eric looked around briefly for at least some place to put their used dishes, but of course, there was nothing. He did take the opportunity to refill his water bottle before they headed out. ¡°So,¡± he said as they wandered off once more into the great unknown, ¡°Final Fantasy. What other games you play?¡± Chapter 3 Chapter 3 Jimothy Jimothy awoke from a strange dream. In the dream, someone blew up their house and Michael had to drive him far away. Then Hazel had returned as an angel and the bad guys had caught up to them. And then something incredible had happened, and he had drawn on the air itself with pure colors¡­ This dream was strange not because of the unlikely events such as Hazel returning in the form of a teleporting white angel, but because so much of it was normal. Just driving. Just hanging out in a hotel room. Just stacking rocks. Whereas this place¡­ Jim sat up. Giant papier mach¨¦ fish swam slowly all around him. They were the size of parade floats, all in cool colors: blue, purple, pink, turquoise, green. They drifted slowly against a dim blueish backdrop in all directions except his left, where rich red velvet curtains hung in luxurious folds stretching to the sky. Some of the colors, the pink and turquoise, stood out in bright fluorescence. Ripples of light played softly over the entire scene like the refraction of sunlight through distant waves. The air was warm and smelled like the sea. All in all, very much not a part of everyday life. It made him suspicious. He closed his eyes and checked the Line. There it was, bright and comforting, like knowing at night that the sun hadn¡¯t disappeared; it was just shining somewhere else. Like how Kate said sometimes: the sun is rising somewhere. The Line felt like that. And he saw that he was on the correct side of it. Strangely enough, wherever he was, it was real. This made Jim happy; he smiled and lay back down on whatever he was on top of. This was a good place to be real. He didn¡¯t remember where he was or how he¡¯d got here, but he knew Mike was around somewhere and that was enough for Jimothy Whyte. He watched the fish drifting slowly around overhead. How were they doing that? He imagined something like a huge mobile up there in the darkness, slowly spinning and puppeteering the fish around on wires so thin as to be invisible. The fish had fuzzy paper surfaces, like pi?atas. He counted over a dozen from here, and each portrayed a different kind of fish. Some of them he didn¡¯t recognize. A lot of them, actually. He hadn¡¯t drawn that many fish. They each moved in the direction they faced; some of them went up or down; most of them slowly turned. It looked like a complex routine to Jim. He wondered how they did that without getting the wires all tangled. Jim watched the fish in complete contentment for a good half hour. The idea then began to creep up on him, very stealthily at first, that something was not quite right here. Where was Mike? That was the big one. Where were the other people? Surely there should be people here to witness something like this. Otherwise¡­what was the point? Well, I¡¯m here, he thought. But where was that watery lighting coming from, anyway? Why was there no music? And what was making those certain colors on the fish pop out like that? Glow-in-the-dark paint? A blacklight? He had to know. He realized that he was not alone. Mike? He tipped his head back as far as it would go to look behind where he lay. The Dark Man stood there. When the Dark Man saw that he had been spotted, he extended something long and dark toward Jimothy. Jimothy¡¯s cane. The wooden one. ¡°Don¡¯t want it,¡± Jim said. ¡°You¡¯ll fall,¡± replied the Dark Man. Jim shook his head, even though he thought that the Dark Man¡¯s prediction was probably accurate. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. The Dark Man smiled a grim little smile. ¡°I¡¯ll just leave this here, then.¡± He bent down and placed the cane beside Jim. Jim realized that both he and the Dark Man were on one of the huge pi?ata fish. Hard to tell from the top, but this one looked like a shark. He checked the Line and realized something else. The Dark Man was on the same side as himself. ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± said the Dark Man as though reading Jim¡¯s thoughts. ¡°If you¡¯re here¡­¡± said Jim, suddenly very confused. No. No, wait, what? Something¡¯s afoot here, Jim, as Isaac might say, especially if he could somehow reference someone¡¯s foot in doing so. What was afoot here was the Dark Man, being here on the same side of the Line as Jim. ¡°Where¡¯s Mike?¡± asked Jim. He remembered his dream, with the angel version of Hazel and the shooting and the explosions and the danger. ¡°He¡¯s fine,¡± said the Dark Man, ¡°despite various fiery disasters. So are you. For now.¡± It took Jim a long moment of thought to realize that the Dark Man had not really answered his question. He hadn¡¯t asked whether Mike was fine, he wanted to know where he was! So that Jim could then figure out a way to also be in that place. But when Jim tried to ask the Dark Man another question, he saw that the Dark Man was gone. Nothing but darkness and distant drifting fish where the mysterious figure had stood. ¡°Oh, man,¡± said Jim. He looked around. Just the fish. They were still cool, they would never stop being cool, but now it all seemed a little¡­empty. It now seemed like a big dark place, but in a kind-of scary way, rather than a way in which Michael Whyte was nearby. Because Jim was starting to think that his brother wasn¡¯t actually very nearby at all. Jimothy got to his feet, succeeding on only his second attempt. He had to use the cane. The papier mach¨¦ surface beneath him held his weight and didn¡¯t seem to move, but it was slightly curved. He looked around for a way out. He made a complete circle, and when he came around to where he began, he saw a glowing blue walkway extending from his feet out into the darkness. It was only about three feet wide. Jim glared at it. A challenge. A tough challenge. He made it about two dozen steps¨Cenough to take him off the fish he woke up on¨Cwhen he saw the other person. It wasn¡¯t the Dark Man, and it wasn¡¯t Mike. Partly in shadow, it sat atop one of the moving fish passing by overhead. Long dark hair hung in a braid; skin glittered in the dim light as if made of blue glass. The figure didn¡¯t seem to be clothed. A long, thin, upright object next to it turned out on a close inspection to be a fearsome spear, planted tip-down in the papier mach¨¦ fish. This creature was shifting slightly, rocking back and forth. It faced away from Jimothy and hadn¡¯t noticed him, for which he was thankful. There was something frightening about it; Jimothy felt instinctively certain that he did not want to be noticed. Yet at the same time¡­was it crying? Any question of whether he should attempt to make contact was soon made irrelevant, for in his distraction, he fell off the walkway. He didn¡¯t really fall; he drifted down like a descending flower petal among the slow giants of the colorful fish. Still unwilling to be noticed by the blue creature, Jimothy clutched his cane tightly and bit his lip hard to keep from crying out. A papier - mach¨¦ manta ray with runic symbols caught him as he fell and ferried him far away. The manta ray took him out of the darkness as though through a tunnel and carried him over an ocean of city lights far below. Chapter 4 Chapter 4 Elizabeth Elizabeth Eddison awoke bit by bit. She became aware of a familiar soft warmth in her arms. She hugged it, thinking that something bad had happened, or started to happen, perhaps in a dream. Yes, a dream. She recalled it as though glimpsed through a room full of fog. Two strange people, talking about angels and keys and museums. Blood, death, explosions, fear. Callie was warm in her arms, but she felt goosebumps over the exposed skin of her hands and neck. A crisp, refreshing cold crawled over her. Where had she fallen asleep, for it to be this cold when she awoke? And why had she fallen asleep with her contact lenses in? She never did that, because they would be sticky and grainy when she awoke, just as they were now. She sat up and took in her surroundings as she began to stretch. She blinked a lot in an attempt to re-lubricate her contact lenses, and she remained calm even when she realized that she had no memory of this place. The stretching continued, patiently, according to her typical morning routine, as she gathered data on her surroundings. White, cold, and quiet. The air smelled of petrichor. Small bright things floated in the air, scattered like snowflakes except they didn¡¯t fall, more like glowing motes of dust caught in light from an unseen source. The surface upon which she stretched burned cold against the exposed skin of her calf. Stone layered in frost. Most importantly, Callie sat regally at her side, in classic sphinx pose, watchful of their surroundings. With Callie on the job, Elizabeth didn¡¯t think she had to worry about unpleasant surprises in this new place. Not immediately dangerous ones. She transitioned cleanly from a stretch into a standing position. Smooth creamy columns (trees?) marched into a pale, hazy distance in all directions. An arrangement of viridian ivy-like vines snaked up from the stone floor to the heights above on each of these columns. Elizabeth didn¡¯t recognize the species of vine; it had glossy green serrated leaves and tiny, brilliant red blossoms. Some of these blossoms, no larger than her fingernails, drifted down like a sparse crimson snow from far above. The fallen blossoms lay scattered upon the frosted stone at her feet. Judging from the small number and unwilted condition of those on the stone floor, Elizabeth guessed they had begun falling not long ago. The place where she had slept was visible as a darker shape melted into the light dusting of frost. Her breath clouded in the air before her. ¡°Callie,¡± she breathed. ¡°Where is this?¡± For some reason, she thought Callie would know. This didn¡¯t look like a place that should really be able to exist, in the same way that her teleporting eyeless pet lynx should not really exist. Callie did not respond. She stood for a moment, twisting her silver ring in thought as she looked around. She wore blueish khakis and a grey jacket with sandals. The butterfly brooch, which she was sure she had been wearing not long ago, was missing. Wait, had she broken it? Why? She couldn¡¯t quite remember. She still had her phone, but neither service nor wi-fi. The time was 31:&N. She caught it just as it changed to 31:&G. The time function doesn¡¯t work here, Kate had said. So Kate really had been asleep; probably this meant that Elizabeth herself was now also asleep. But this was certainly no dream. What else had Kate said? Not much. But she had replied instantly. And in the group text, Banana Quest 2, she had been¡­what? Responding to things no one had said yet? So¡­some kind of dream world temporally disjunctive from Earth? She felt silly just thinking that. Surely Isaac knew some fancy science-fiction term for this. It would be her working hypothesis for now. Kate¡¯s phone had worked here as well. Apart from the lack of service and the very incorrect time, Elizabeth¡¯s seemed functional. A quick check confirmed that the CHIME app seemed operational. She tried sending Kate a simple Hello. She waited a full minute, using this opportunity to test the timer on her phone. The timer worked fine. She zipped up the grey jacket, called for Callie to follow her, and set off through the pale columns and falling blossoms. She stopped when she saw the first words written on the columns, written at eye level in hand-high letters, in black ink, in a delicate, refined handwriting that Elizabeth recognized as her own. As though the sky were bleeding, it read. She recognized this as her own thought when first seeing the falling crimson petals. She continued on to the next ivy-wrapped column. Here she had to brush some of the soft green foliage out of the way to read the words: Like a blank page with green veins. She remembered thinking this, that the swaths of ivy wrapping up and around the many columns looked like veins. The script on the columns became a regular occurrence. Most of them reflected poetic thoughts that she had had¨Cjust fragments, bits and pieces of what might become a poem if she remembered them later: The snow, like stars They fear no fire, nor dark of storm¡­ Five hundred, five hundred Like the sails of a hundred thousand ships upon the sea Some of these fragments she recalled from months, years ago. Others, many, she could not remember at all. Were they even hers? At first, she tried to avoid crushing the fallen blossoms underfoot. When this became difficult, she turned it into a challenge, a dance. She twirled through the forest, stepping with delicate precision around the fallen flowers. But soon it became unavoidable. A thin layer of scarlet petals covered almost all the frosted stone floor in her vision. The crushed blossoms produced a subtle, pleasant scent. Her ears grew cold; she wished her jacket had a hood. Callie ranged here and there nearby, sometimes stalking through the forest of columns, sometimes appearing first to Elizabeth¡¯s right and then to her left without really having moved. Callie looked natural. She belonged here among all the red and green and white. She walked for a half hour before seeing the black column. Like the white ones, it reached up to the faded red-speckled haze of a sky overhead; unlike the others she could trace it all the way until it was nothing but a thin black line, perhaps breaching the atmosphere and transcending into the void of space or whatever the hell was up there. It was another twenty-minute walk to reach it. The temperature noticeably dropped as she approached. Here, even the fallen red blossoms wore fringes of frost. Here the blossoms were larger, striped with silver in amongst the red. The black column was twice as thick as the others. The ivy wrapping around it, somehow finding purchase on the smooth curvature of the surface, was metallic silver. The lettering was gold, and for the first time it was not in her own handwriting. It came, a flower bright, Amid the cold of winter When half gone was the night. She knew this one. It was from a hymn. Lo, How a Rose E¡¯er Blooming, one of her favorites, not that she had many favorites when it came to hymns. She knew this one because of Christmas, and she had not failed to notice that the color scheme of her surroundings could be appraised as Christmas-like. Callie joined her in gazing at the gold lettering. Beside the black column, Elizabeth felt the cold of winter indeed. Walking had kept her warm, but now she hugged her arms around herself and wished she had been wearing more than a light jacket when she¡¯d fallen asleep, assuming that was how it worked. She still couldn¡¯t remember the circumstances of her last minutes of wakefulness. Callie stood and sashayed around the black column. Elizabeth followed. An open archway on the far side revealed a dark and winding stone staircase extending both up and down. Elizabeth chose down. Up looked like a long, long way. She had taken only a few steps down the steep, narrow stairs when Callie made an angry hissing noise behind her and darted past, squeezing through the gap between Elizabeth¡¯s knee and the black wall, putting her off-balance. Elizabeth managed to steady herself before falling. Blood pounded in her ears and a shot of adrenaline burned through her veins. Falling down these stairs could be critically disadvantageous to her health. She heard Callie down there somewhere ahead of her, hissing. Elizabeth couldn¡¯t remember if she¡¯d ever seen Callie upset like this before. A dog began barking. She descended as quickly as she dared and emerged into a warm dark space, the air dry and dusty. A wind blew from her left, carrying sand along with the sounds of a yowling lynx and a barking dog. Elizabeth stepped in that direction and ran right into a soft black curtain. The fabric felt warm, and more like some kind of living tissue than like fabric. It made her skin crawl, but she pushed her way through. Callie and a white dog chased each other around a dimly lit nighttime desert scene. It really was a scene¨Cthe backdrop was a painted sheet twenty yards distant, complete with oasis and standard-issue vaguely Arabic spires and palaces with lit windows, all set against a starry sky. Some prop palm trees littered the area before her; one had fallen over. Some rugs (flying carpets?) lay nearby, mostly rolled and stacked. The sand was real; it lay in heaps before her. Every miniature dune boasted a different color of sand. All of the colors glowed faintly in the dark. The multi-colored sands mixed where the dunes touched. Callie and the dog kicked up trails of this luminescent sand as they scampered about, scattering it wherever they went. Callie ran about normally, using only her legs. The white dog teleported randomly all over the set, often falling awkwardly onto piles of sand and sliding down. Callie attempted to move with some amount of dignity while trying to dodge the overenthusiastic canine. The dog looked like it was having a great time. Callie did not. Something tugged at her memory, something about this dog. It seemed familiar, except that this dog had perfectly white fur, just like Callie, and no eyes. ¡°Hazel?¡± she said. She didn¡¯t say it very loud, but Hazel froze in a crouch at the sound of her voice, head down, tail up, perfectly still. Then he looked at her, and the act of doing so repositioned his body so violently that he almost fell onto his side. Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. She had never met Hazel, but she had heard the boys describe this dog to her. The-dog-that-might-be-Hazel reared up, pawed the air in excitement, and charged at Elizabeth. He suddenly appeared a few feet off to her left, where he floundered directly into the strange black curtain. He growled and wrestled with it for a while. Callie appeared beside Elizabeth and licked a paw with nonchalance as it watched, as if to say, what lowbrow tomfoolery is this? I am not amused. ¡°Hazel,¡± said Elizabeth, with more confidence this time. The seething mass of black curtain and white fur froze again, just as before. The curtain deflated, empty, and a bark sounded from behind Elizabeth. She and Callie turned and saw Hazel atop a mint-green dune. The faint glow of the sand lit the flawless fur of his underbelly green as the dog gazed into the distance against the starry backdrop. For just a moment, the dog appeared majestic. If Elizabeth hadn¡¯t known better, she might have guessed that she had in her sights a sage and mystical creature. It didn¡¯t seem aware of this. Elizabeth smiled. Hazel, if indeed this was he, was a good fit for Jimothy. Then Hazel hopped a foot or two directly up in the air, and upon landing he tore off to the left, offstage. He stayed in place for the first few seconds, kicking sand backward rather than moving himself forward. But once he got going, he sped away at an alarming speed, no teleport required. Elizabeth and Callie followed at a more leisurely pace. Hazel kept running back to make sure they followed, and occasionally the dog literally ran circles around them or teleported to random locations. Sometimes he zoomed through the darkness around them, occasionally colliding with random movie-set props or picking fights with inanimate objects. Hazel escorted them in this manner through what looked like a vast and empty film studio. They passed many sets, each seemingly unrelated to the rest. Several, like the Arabian-Nights setup in which they had begun, were about as clich¨¦ as movie sets came. With others, she had no idea what she was looking at. Each set was lit in the appropriate manner, be it dim or dazzling, but each also represented an oasis of light in an immense field of shadow. Those strange black curtains separated them all from each other. There were no people, nor any sign of them. The silence and solitude soon became unnerving. They found Jimothy on a train. Not a real locomotive, but a smaller one which might perhaps move tourists through a theme park. It was bright red, two cars long, lit with colored Christmas lights draped around the edges. Jimothy Whyte sat in the back seat of the second car, looking thoughtful. Elizabeth recalled how he had been crying the last time she¡¯d spoken to him. He noticed them coming thanks to Hazel¡¯s frantic barking. He gaped at Elizabeth in a way she might have taken as rude had it come from anybody else. The train didn¡¯t stop; it kept rolling along at a steady jogging speed; Elizabeth easily caught up and hopped into the back car across from Jim. Padded benches, oddly comfortable, faced each other. ¡°I¡¯m glad to see you,¡± said Jim as though he were stating a simple and obvious fact. He leaned over and gave her a hug. Surprised, she began to hug back just as he pulled away. ¡°I¡­am glad to see you too,¡± she said. So was Hazel. The dog tackled Jimothy from the side, nearly knocking him out of his seat and off the train. Hazel licked Jimothy¡¯s face with a white tongue and pawed at him eagerly. Jimothy laughed and seized the dog in an awkward hug. Such obvious love on display warmed Elizabeth¡¯s heart. Whatever this place was, however strange and mysterious it might be, it all felt okay now that Jimothy sat across from her. Hazel froze in place, then looked somewhere off in the distance. He vanished. Callie glanced indifferently in the same direction, decided it wasn¡¯t worth her time, and made herself comfortable on the plush red seat beside Elizabeth. ¡°Hi, Callie!¡± said Jim. Callie briefly acknowledged him before beginning to knead at the fabric of the seat with her oversized fluffy paws. Elizabeth felt that something more than a simple greeting was in order, but she stood at a loss as to what it might be. Bombarding Jimothy with questions didn¡¯t seem right, but she thought that one or two would suffice. ¡°Do you know where we are?¡± she asked as the train carried them away. Jimothy rubbed his chin as though tracing a goatee. Jimothy did not possess even the slightest hint of facial hair; this habit he must have picked up from his brother Michael, who apparently had tried out the beard thing for a while. ¡°Some kind of movie studio, I guess,¡± he said. The unsteadiness in his voice (¡°his tongue¡¯s got a limp,¡± said Isaac) was less pronounced in person, but still evident. The words were all there, and in the correct order; they just tripped over each other on the way out. Indeed, they still rolled steadily through appropriately-lit sets divided by long reaches of total darkness. The sets looked to be increasing in size and complexity, and the train now went through them instead of beside. All still empty; all deserted. ¡°I mean, beyond that,¡± she said. ¡°In general. Where are we?¡± ¡°Oh!¡± said Jimothy. ¡°Sorry. We¡¯re in the Museum! The Dream Museum, I think it¡¯s called.¡± ¡°Called by whom?¡± She had yet to see another person here. ¡°Kate,¡± said Jimothy. That struck a chord of familiarity. Yes. This was Kate¡¯s place. This was where she came sometimes when she slept. ¡°Can you see the future here, Jimothy?¡± she asked. ¡°Is that how Kate does it?¡± Is that how you do it, she almost added, but she already knew that one. Jim would say he didn¡¯t know. He¡¯d told her that before, and Jim couldn¡¯t lie. Jimothy thought about it. ¡°Maybe. I¡¯ve never been here before, so I don¡¯t really know. We could ask him.¡± ¡°Him?¡± ¡°The guy who lives here. The Dark Man.¡± ¡°The¡­Dark Man?¡± Somehow that did not strike Elizabeth as a wise idea. ¡°Yeah,¡± said Jimothy, ¡°but he doesn¡¯t talk too much. Mainly he just watches, I guess.¡± ¡°Is he in charge of this place?¡±This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. ¡°Uh. Maybe?¡± ¡°Does this place really exist? Is it a physical location?¡± ¡°Jeez, so many questions!¡± But he smiled. ¡°I do¨Cooh! Look at that!¡± The train had taken them to an aquatic set. Its tracks descended along a beach and into the sea, where the water parted for it as though at the bidding of an unseen Moses. Strange, Elizabeth thought, that the set incorporated the train. As if they were no longer movie sets at all, but attractions designed specifically for the passengers on the train. Their two-car Christmas-light-festooned vehicle rolled down between the waters. Fish, many of them clearly imaginary, schooled through the clear water on either side. Jimothy reached out a hand and drew it through the wall of water nearest to him. Much to Elizabeth¡¯s surprise, he made direct contact with the water. That which he touched spilled out and onto the dry ground by the tracks. Some of the brightly colored fish swam up to inspect this occurrence and kept pace with the train. Jimothy laughed with childlike glee. Elizabeth noticed his cane there on the seat next to him. A big white fish paddled awkwardly up to the wall of water, trailing swarms of bubbles. Hazel burst right through the wall ahead of them, fell a few feet onto the ground, and then got up and looked around with utter bafflement. Elizabeth knew that if his fur was anything like Callie¡¯s, he wouldn¡¯t stay wet for long. Callie watched this happen and twitched her tail disapprovingly, but Elizabeth hadn¡¯t missed her cat¡¯s eyeless face tracking the movements of nearby fish, and a stance which indicated she was ready to pounce should any of them come within reach. The train soon left the bright waters behind. Back into the darkness of the movie studio. It took a moment for her eyes to readjust. ¡°This place is great,¡± said Jimothy. She could hear the grin in his voice. ¡°It¡¯s always so interesting! And colorful.¡± ¡°How did we get here?¡± she asked. ¡°I don¡¯t really remember,¡± said Jim. ¡°I think it¡­there might have been something bad, though. Like, something scary happening. I¡¯m kind-of worried about Mike.¡± Now he sounded worried. It reminded her that she was a little worried about AJ, and she told him so. Jimothy began to respond, but then a big wet dog appeared between them and shook itself off. Elizabeth and Jimothy cried out in surprise; Callie hissed. Elizabeth almost scolded the dog, but then Jimothy laughed and bent over to hug Hazel¡¯s still-soaked neck. Hazel panted and swung his eyeless head as if he could look around at them. Elizabeth found it impossible to be mad at that clueless, goofy grin. The dog disappeared again; Jimothy almost fell out of his seat as his support vanished. ¡°I think he¡¯s still excited about how he can, like, teleport,¡± Jim told her as he righted himself. ¡°Has he always been this¡­excitable?¡± Jimothy grinned and nodded. ¡°At the park he just runs around and chases everything,¡± he said. ¡°Sometimes he¡¯ll bite the overhang of our porch and just hang there. Michael says he¡¯s ¡®touched,¡¯ whatever that means. Isaac says he¡¯s possessed by¨C¡± ¡°-the spirits of Looney-Tunes characters past,¡± she finished with him. Isaac had told that joke several times. ¡°One time he got his head stuck in a plastic bin, you know, the ones that are full of those little cheese balls.¡± Jimothy cracked up at the memory. ¡°He¡­he never slowed down!¡± Jimothy interrupted himself again by laughing, and his laughter was infectious. ¡°He just kept running around like crazy¡­and like¡­banging the plastic on everything¡­¡± Elizabeth saw tears forming at the corners of Jim¡¯s eyes. ¡°Then¡­then he tried licking the cheesy stuff off the inside¡­while he was still running!¡± This seemed to be the climax of the story; mirth overwhelmed Jimothy, who collapsed into his seat with laughter. Elizabeth joined him, and they laughed together in the darkness while Callie watched them warily. Elizabeth smelled and heard rain approaching. She twisted in her seat to look forward and saw the biggest set yet up ahead: a misty, rainy city, the type with gas lamps and cobbled streets and possibly wayward gangs of chimney sweeps prancing about the rooftops. A rack of umbrellas stood just to the right of the tracks up ahead. How thoughtful. Elizabeth reached out and plucked two, a blue one for Jimothy and a yellow one for herself. She had to help Jimothy unstrap and then put up his umbrella. It reminded her of seeing Michael Whyte helping Jimothy out of his coat at her house a few months ago, the first time she had seen either of the Whyte brothers in person. Isaac had helped Jim put his coat back on when they went outside later. Jimothy was likely to fall over just putting a coat on. He concentrated so hard on getting his arms in the sleeves that he forgot to balance. Jimothy needed help to do things; she had to remember that while she was here with him. Jimothy looked sheepish and a bit embarrassed to have her help him with the umbrella, just as he had with the coats months before. He knew, or at least he believed, that he should be able to do it by himself, and he hated putting others to any trouble. ¡°Uh, thanks,¡± said Jim, and she realized that she had been staring at him for a few seconds. ¡°Really. It¡¯s not¡­I mean, I don¡¯t mind if you help me with things.¡± He looked right back at her. Had she been that easy to read? Jimothy shifted his gaze over her shoulder and wordlessly reached out with his umbrella to put it over Elizabeth. At that moment, the train moved out into the rainy city. Jimothy grinned as the rain pelted him. Elizabeth sighed, grabbed the umbrella, and moved across the little train car so they sat together, the umbrella covering them both. Callie appeared at their feet, no more keen on rain than most cats. They watched the city slide by. London, Elizabeth guessed. It looked like old-town London. Maybe another European city, but she had only been to London. The streets had no names here; neither did the shops and storefronts that glided by. Empty, all of it. A blank slate. No cars, no noise beyond the rain, no life . But beautiful flowers bobbed in the rain, and the buildings were ancient and lovely, grown with ivy, and a mist shrouded the distance, lending the scene a sense of discovery and mystery. ¡°It¡¯s beautiful,¡± said Jimothy after a few minutes. He gazed wide-eyed and awestruck at everything they passed. She had seen him look the same way at a little frog that he¡¯d found in a creek behind her house. She had seen him look that same way at a small gray rock, indistinguishable from every other small gray rock in her backyard. ¡°You said you¡¯re worried about your sister?¡± he asked, still looking out at the cobblestone streets. ¡°I am,¡± she said. ¡°Mike was worried about her too,¡± he said. He looked at her with a knowing smile, and she laughed. ¡°Well,¡± said Elizabeth. ¡°She was more than a little worried about him as well. Especially when she learned what happened to your house.¡± Jimothy¡¯s smile broadened. ¡°I think he would like to hear that,¡± he said. ¡°Yes?¡± she replied. ¡°Well, I think Amber Jane Eddison might like to hear that.¡± Her laughter caused Elizabeth to shift the umbrella, momentarily allowing a patter of rain to fall on Callie. The white lynx looked up at her in disapproval, then analyzed their surroundings carefully, perhaps wondering where a certain crazy dead Australian Shepherd had gone. Jimothy¡¯s voice became more thoughtful. ¡°I would like it if they could meet up again,¡± he said. ¡°I think Mike gets lonely. He doesn¡¯t have a lot of friends.¡± Elizabeth nodded in understanding. ¡°AJ is the same way. She is amazing, and she knows a lot of people, and everybody likes her. But I don¡¯t think she had many close friends to talk to.¡± ¡°I¡¯m worried about my mom, too,¡± he said. ¡°She¡¯s in¡­an assisted living home?¡± ¡°Yeah. She doesn¡¯t remember us, usually, but we still go to see her.¡± Elizabeth almost made an unhelpful remark about how her own mother seemed to conveniently forget about her daughters all the time. It felt that way sometimes, but the truth was that Elizabeth was worried about her mother too. For a fleeting moment, Elizabeth also wondered about where her father might be, but she already knew that she and Jim were alike in not really caring about that. Elizabeth, momentarily lost in thought, started in surprise when she realized that the train had left the ground. For one scary second, she thought they were falling, somehow. Then she realized that the tracks ahead angled upward on a course to take them above the rainy city. Around this point she understood that they had left the movie sets behind. ¡°So¡­¡± said Jim. ¡°The sky broke, didn¡¯t it?¡± The sky? She recalled Elmer, Elmer Sky, saying something like that. And she remembered the sound of it happening. No, not the sound. The sensation. An atavistic snap, like the end of the world, but quiet. She nodded. ¡°I think Mike is probably in danger,¡± said Jimothy in a small voice. ¡°Mike and AJ and probably everybody who¡¯s still there.¡± ¡°Still there? What do you mean?¡± He shrugged. ¡°Still, like, back on Earth I guess?¡± Back on Earth. They cleared the rooftops, cleared the fog, and were treated to a vista of a vast cityscape spread out before them. Twilight had fallen, and the many streetlights of the city gathered beneath a low layer of gray haze. The scent of fresh rain still hung in the air, but the steady drizzle had stopped, so Elizabeth put away the umbrella. The lights reflected on the ceiling of clouds. Some lights, such as from clock towers or taller buildings in the distance, stood up above the rest. If it weren¡¯t for the total absence of other people so far, Elizabeth would have been genuinely surprised at the lack of a flying Julie Andrews with an umbrella of her own. ¡°Jimothy¡­¡± she said. ¡°Can you¡­¡± She had no idea how the Line worked. It had been Mike¡¯s idea, but according to Isaac, even Mike didn¡¯t really know what it was, or how it worked, or to what extent it was even a real thing. She did know that Jim was uncomfortable talking about it. It was a reminder of that fact that he occasionally couldn¡¯t tell what was real and what wasn¡¯t, which was not very many steps from being insane. She knew that the possibility of being insane frightened Jimothy. She steeled herself and asked. ¡°Jim,¡± she said, ¡°can you see the Line here?¡± Jimothy closed his eyes and nodded. ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s real. You¡¯re real.¡± He smiled. ¡°I checked as soon as I saw you. I couldn¡¯t believe it! I thought maybe you just showed up because I was hoping you would.¡± The limp in his tongue came out more when he said this. Elizabeth was considering how to reply to this when a sound came to them. It was the first sound besides the rain, the distant thunder, and the soft whir of the train since they entered the city. It was the sound of music. Distant music. Was it¡­organ music? ¡°You hear that?¡± asked Jimothy, excited again. ¡°I was wondering when we¡¯d have music.¡± It came from the distance, back and to their left. It grew steadily louder, approaching them. Jimothy frowned and tapped his cane on the floor of the train car. ¡°What kind of music is it, though?¡± Elizabeth was thinking the same thing. Music it was indeed, but chaotic. Frenzied. Atonal? Elizabeth thought that she was hearing either the work of a brilliant modern masterpiece by the likes of Schoenberg, or an amateur trying to sound like him, or an ape gleefully banging on random keys, delighted by the sounds. Any of the above. And there was something else, as it became louder¡­an electric bass? The music increased in volume until it passed overhead, the source rocketing into the distance somewhere above the dark clouds, trailing a bizarre funky bassline like a sonic wake. ¡°Woah,¡± said Jimothy. Elizabeth shook her head. This place. Was someone just messing with them? Hazel appeared in their car, tried to lick Callie, and got a pawful of claws to the face for his kindness. ¡°Hazel! Fetch!¡± cried Jim as he hurled his cane out over the rooftops, an act which sent him jostling into Elizabeth. Hazel blinked out into the gray distance and plummeted with a yelp into the fog. ¡°Oh,¡± said Jim. ¡°Oops.¡± The train pulled into a station above the rooftops. Jimothy led them off as though he knew where he was going. Hazel returned with the cane, which Jim reluctantly took as a replacement for the relatively unsteady umbrella he had been using. Somewhere, off in the distance, something like an explosion sounded. They descended a set of polished cedar stairs into a warm, dry, well-lit lobby. Circular, with an abstract statue in the middle and about a dozen doors placed evenly along the wall, separated by open hallways shooting off in a fan of directions. ¡°This way,¡± said Jim, heading for one of the carpeted corridors that looked no different from the rest. When she asked how he knew, he replied that he was just guessing. They traversed a series of richly decorated galleries. They saw the Dark Man once, only glimpsed him really, watching them from down a side hall. He gave Elizabeth a scare, turning away and disappearing as soon as he was spotted, until Jimothy reassured her. The Dark Man wouldn¡¯t hurt them, he said. He was sure of it. Unless they broke the rules. What rules? When she asked this, Jimothy shrugged as if it didn¡¯t matter. The thing that Elizabeth later remembered about the Dark Man was that he had a cane, like Jim, only he didn¡¯t seem to need it. They passed a pair of restrooms here, which she and Jim both needed. For some reason, this surprised her. It hadn¡¯t really been that long since she¡¯d woken up here, but¡­this place was so dreamlike and strange that the normalcy of needing to go to the bathroom seemed incongruous. The bathroom was nice, nothing strange about it whatsoever. So normal that it wrapped back around to being bizarre, unnerving. There was no evidence in the bathroom that anyone else had ever used it before. They continued on and came to a set of double-doors, really no different in appearance from the rest they had passed except for the symbol. It was a hexagon, divided into six equilateral triangles. This jarred something in her memory, but she couldn¡¯t quite recall what. ¡°This is it, I¡¯m pretty sure,¡± said Jimothy. He looked at the door with something like awe. He reached out a hand to touch it, but hesitated. ¡°What is it?¡± she asked as she stepped up to the door beside him. She noticed that both Callie and Hazel, behind them, watched the door at full attention. Jimothy looked nervous. Elizabeth offered him a hand, a little worried but trying to project confidence. ¡°It¡¯s all right, Jim,¡± she said. ¡°We¡¯ll just go through together, okay?¡± He thought for a moment, then nodded and took her hand. They reached out and pushed through the door. A hexagonal room waited on the other side. Gray stone floor, plain white walls, maybe twenty feet across at the widest. The white walls went up and up until lost in a haze overhead. Clean cracks divided the stone hexagon of a floor into six equal sections, just as on the door. Each triangular section had a symbol. (You know, the big hexagon on the floor, with the symbols in it.) Six doors, one on each wall. (And there¡¯s like¡­doors? At the edges?) Callie and Hazel sat side-by-side, uncharacteristically interested and calm, respectively. Jimothy proceeded to the middle of the room, the intersection of all the lines. His cane clacked on the stone. At one point, he attempted to look around at the doors while walking, and lost his balance. Elizabeth was there in an instant, steadying him by putting a hand on his shoulder. He smiled at her. ¡°You¡¯re so fast!¡± ¡°Nevermind that, Jimothy! Where¡­¡± She rethought her question. ¡°What do we do now?¡± Jimothy gestured with his cane at the symbols on the floors in a sweeping gesture that put him off-balance again. ¡°You know which one is yours, right?¡± (You know how we each have a hexagon? And we each have a triangle inside the hexagon?) Elizabeth took a closer look at the symbols on the floor. Six of them: paintbrush, flower, heart, cube, snowflake, compass. She knew hers, all right. So did Callie. The lynx waited in front of a door, tail twitching. The door adjoining the flower-inscribed triangle was painted eggshell white, with a bright brass doorknob and a pattern of fogged diamond-shaped windows. A cheerful-looking door. Jim, of course, had selected the paintbrush-adjoining door. This door was an ominous black slab of stone. It had a vertical metal handle with no apparent latching mechanism. ¡°Wait,¡± said Elizabeth, ¡°why are we going through different doors? We should stay together.¡± He looked surprised, as though this thought hadn¡¯t even occurred to him. Then he frowned. ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­I think we¡¯re, like, supposed to go through these¡­and I kind-of want to see what¡¯s behind mine.¡± Elizabeth thought Jim¡¯s door looked foreboding, but she kept that to herself. She shook her head firmly. ¡°We¡¯re staying together, Jim. Let¡¯s go through my door.¡± ¡°Why your door?¡± ¡°Yours looks¡­¡± ¡°Scary?¡± She nodded. ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s actually scary,¡± he said after a moment of thought. ¡°I think it¡¯s sad. But okay. I think I¡¯d like to stay together too.¡± He took a few steps over to her door. Hazel followed, but reluctantly. The dog clearly wanted to go through the black door. Elizabeth put a hand on the bright brass doorknob and at once recoiled in surprise. It was freezing cold. Now that she looked more closely, she saw that a layer of frost encrusted the fogged windows, just like the cold ground where she had woken up. She scratched some of it off and wondered if she, not to mention Jim, were properly dressed for whatever wintry occasion lay on the other side of the door. She didn¡¯t realize this until later, but she never once considered trying one of the other four doors that did not belong to her or Jim. Elizabeth pulled the sleeve of her coat down over her hand and used it to turn the doorknob. It turned easily. She opened the door. Callie darted through. A force, like a powerful magnetic attraction or a strong wind that moved only her body, pulled her through and into the brightness beyond. The door slammed behind her. She and the umbrella she¡¯d been carrying tumbled onto something cold and hard and bright. Chapter 5 Chapter 5 Kate They stumbled out of the wreckage, arms around each other¡¯s shoulders, coughing and waving away the dust that clouded the air. Charlie (eagle form!) transported them the final distance over the field of rubble. Kate dropped the bass on the pavement and then sprawled out next to it. A wind blew half of her hair across her face and into her mouth; she spent a few seconds trying to spit it out before giving up. Isaac sat down next to her. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you could crash a cathedral,¡± he said. ¡°Y-y-you c-crashed it!¡± She held her head up enough to look at the monstrous enormity of the exterior of the thoroughly crashed cathedral. ¡°W-where did you learn to d-d-to drive?¡± ¡°Hey,¡± said Isaac, speaking out of the side of his mouth in an exaggerated Texan drawl, ¡°you got a license fer that there church? Ya done crashed it right into¡­¡± He twisted to look at the massive bluish object of unknown function in which the cathedral had smashed. It was like a mountain, but made of perfect cylinders. ¡°¡­ma residency .¡± They laughed. The drive had been a little scary, and more than a little strange, and the crash had been jarring, but now it all just seemed funny. ¡°Not only that,¡± said Isaac back in his normal voice, ¡°but I think I parked incorrectly.¡± Kate propped herself up on her elbows and nodded. ¡°T-taking up t-t-too many spa-spaces,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯ll p-probably g-get towed.¡± They both cracked up again at the thought of the building being towed. Kate leaned back down and looked at the sky overhead, happy and content with the simple fact that a sky was, indeed, overhead. Such was not always guaranteed in this place. And what a sky! Brilliant deep blue! On Earth the sky often became hazy and washed-out, either from inclement weather conditions, or pollution, or sometimes fires. But here its color was pure and solid. And the clouds! ¡°What is it?¡± asked Isaac. ¡°Isaac!¡± She reached an arm over and blindly seized hold of him. ¡°W-w-what¡¯s lighting the c- the clouds, Isaac? W-w-where¡¯s the light c-coming from!?¡± ¡°K-k-kate!¡± he said. ¡°Y-you¡¯re in sh-sh-shock! Ya just- y-ya j-just gotta ch-ch-chill out!¡± He rhythmized the stuttering, making it sound like beat-boxing. Kate turned to Isaac just in time to see his smile fade, replaced by horror at having just unthinkingly made fun of her stutter. But she laughed, as much because of his expression as because of how refreshing it was to have her stutter made fun of. Even Eric hadn¡¯t done it, and Eric was kind of a jerk sometimes! It was the exact opposite of how her aunt treated her. ¡°D-d-don¡¯t worry,¡± she told him. ¡°As l-long as y-you d-don¡¯t say my st-tutter is adorable like m-my aunt then you¡¯re g-good!¡± ¡°Hmm.¡± Isaac gazed critically into the middle distance. ¡°Have you tried getting rid of it?¡± ¡°W-w-wow! G-good idea, Isaac! I d-di-d-I never thought of that! I¡¯ll j-just d-do that now.¡± Isaac, undeterred, continued, ¡°Well, what about vocal exercises? Or tongue twisters?¡± ¡°T-t-tongue t-twisters? I c-can¡¯t even say n-normal sentences!¡± She paused. ¡°Why, d-do you know any?¡± Isaac thought for a moment. ¡°Top chopstick shops stock top chopsticks.¡± He said it slowly, carefully. ¡°Pff! Y-y-yeah right! L-let me t-try!¡± Kate wound up exploding into giggles when she couldn¡¯t even make it past the second word. Isaac had another one that was even worse, and he even had to write it down and show her because he could hardly say it: ¡°The sixth sick sheik¡¯s sixth sheep¡¯s sick.¡± They watched the clouds after. A pure white bird cruised overhead, now in the shape of an albatross (Phoebastria albatrus, she was pretty sure). Navi fluttered along and came to rest on one lens of Kate¡¯s glasses. A butterfly eyepatch! She reached up a hand and tried to mentally persuade Navi to fly to it. She did so, perching upon Kate¡¯s index finger. Navi flexed her wings. ¡°Y-you¡¯re b-beautiful, Navi,¡± she informed the butterfly. ¡°D-d-don¡¯t let them t-tell you anything else!¡± She sat up. ¡°Let¡¯s k-keep going!¡± She stood, brushed off the remaining dust from the wreckage of the cathedral, and made sure she was all in order. Angel? Scarf? Lab coat? Bass? Sandals? Check to all. ¡°Right-o!¡± said Isaac. He made a huge big show of getting to his feet in the most awkward, roundabout way possible. Another one of his jokes? Was he trying to make her laugh? She got the impression that he did this sort of thing mostly for his own amusement, and would have done it even had no one been around. She saw him check and double-check to make sure he had that big ridiculous horsehair hat. It looked like a brown straw hat with a broad, flat brim. According to Isaac, it smelled like horses when it got wet. Kate had been on the lookout for any sources of water ever since the Dark Man had given it to him. Besides the hat, he wore a blue jacket, jeans, and battered old tennis shoes. Kate didn¡¯t know where he¡¯d gotten the hat, or why he checked twice to make sure he still had it, even though it was already on his head and he could literally see it in his upper field of vision. She asked, ¡°W-where d-did you get that hat?¡± as she began aimlessly leading the way. She had a vague idea of what they were looking for, but no idea at all of where it might be, although she felt fairly confident that they¡¯d find it eventually as long as they kept going. She thought that was more or less how this place worked. Maybe Navi would know, though! (She understood as soon as she had this thought that ¡°Navi¡± was short for ¡°navigation¡± or something similar, and that this must be the name of some kind of guiding character in a video game, probably a small easy-to-animate sprite that kind-of looks like a butterfly. So obvious, Isaac!) The crashed cathedral lay beside them, swelled to such absurd proportions that it took up nearly the entire view in that direction. Kate thought that the thing it had crashed into most closely resembled an unreasonably large and strangely shaped chunk of crumbly blue cheese. It had certainly crumbled under the impact of a two-kilometer-long cathedral. Warm concrete, like a sidewalk, spread out to the horizons beneath them. But why was the concrete warm when there was no sun? And why were they not all in shadows from the cathedral and the big cheese looming over them? Where was the light coming from? Of course, she knew better than to question these things too seriously here. Kate marched away. She raised her hand as though throwing Navi up into the air like a falconer. ¡°N-navi!¡± she exclaimed, ¡°l-lead the w-way!¡± She did not know if Navi would do any such thing, but it was worth a shot. If they started going in circles, then Kate would resume command. Navi fluttered with apparent purpose toward the largest open patch of sky visible in the distance. Charlie soon joined her (hummingbird form!). They danced in the air together as they led the way. ¡°Dwayne got it for me,¡± said Isaac from behind her. ¡°It was a while ago. I think my dad was involved, but I don¡¯t really remember much.¡± Oh, the hat! Had he been thinking of an answer this whole time? ¡°Y-y-your dad. He, uh¡­¡± ¡°Yeah, he disappeared when I was a kid.¡± You¡¯re still a kid, Isaac, thought Kate. We both are. But she remained silent. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen him in a long time,¡± Isaac continued. ¡°I don¡¯t even know if he¡¯s¡­you know¡­still around.¡± Kate nodded. She opened her mouth to say something about her own father, but hesitated. Then she got mad at herself for hesitating. What was there to worry about? This was Isaac, for Pete¡¯s sake! ¡°M-m¡­my dad d-d-disappeared too,¡± she said. ¡°Only h-he didn¡¯t m-m-mean to.¡± Her voice actually quavered toward the end. She hoped Isaac hadn¡¯t heard it. She couldn¡¯t remember how much Isaac already knew about Nicholas Carter¨Cmissing, presumed dead. ¡°I heard about that,¡± said Isaac. ¡°Sorry.¡± His apology sounded so awkward and weird, like he was personally apologizing for doing something, that Kate bit her lip to keep from laughing. Now was not the time to be laughing! ¡°What d-do you re-remember about your f-father?¡± she asked. Isaac shrugged. ¡°Not much. I remember watching stars with him, though.¡± ¡°Is that w-w- is that why you like st-stars so much?¡± ¡°I guess. Maybe?¡± Kate looked up at the sky. More and more of it opened up as they crept out from under the looming cathedral. ¡°M-my father w-was a b-bri-a brilliant scientist!¡± she proclaimed to the big empty space in front of her. ¡°He wa-he was going to ch-cha-change the world!¡± She reached up and wiped the corners of her eyes,. ¡°Well, everyone changes the world in some kind o¡ª¡± ¡°Okay, Isaac.¡± ¡°I remember reading about him, though,¡± said Isaac, undeterred. ¡°What about your mom?¡± ¡°I n-never had one.¡± ¡°I mean, you have to have had a mom at some po¨C¡± ¡°I g-g-get it, Isaac.¡± ¡°Unless maybe you were like made in a lab! Like some kind of clone or¨C¡± ¡°Shut up, Isaac!¡± Kaitlyn Carter suddenly gained a greater understanding of Eric''s and Isaac¡¯s strange relationship. Eric Walker could be a jerk, but Isaac Milton could be a real pain in the rear. Had she just never noticed, or was it just being with him in person? People were often different in person. She knew she probably was. ¡°Well sorry,¡± said Isaac. ¡°I don¡¯t remember my mom at all. She died when I was born.¡± Kate couldn¡¯t see his face; she couldn¡¯t tell how serious he was being about this. It was so hard to tell with Isaac! He sounded serious. ¡°I¡¯m actually pretty jealous, I guess, of you having grown up with a father,¡± he said. ¡°Even before mine, you know, vanished away,¡± (he made magician-like disappearing gestures with his hands) ¡°he was gone all the time.¡± Yeah, he was being serious. Kate didn¡¯t know what to say about that, so she kept her mouth shut. Kate and Isaac followed their angels across the warm cement, out from under the crashed cathedral and up to the edge of a bright sunless sky. The cement ended in a smooth curve which arced back around to both the left and the right like the edge of a vast circle. A single path, a sidewalk, extended in a sinuous track deep into the sky directly ahead. ¡°Hmm,¡± said Isaac. He walked right up to the edge and leaned over. Navi fluttered around him as though anxiously attempting to shoo him back. ¡°I gotta say,¡± he said, ¡°I¡¯m a little lost.¡± He got down on his stomach, gripped the edge with his hands, and leaned over. ¡°And I mean that, like, on multiple levels. Hey, come check this out.¡± Kate approached the edge near where the sidewalk began or ended, laid down next to Isaac and peered over with him. She saw that the cement upon which they had been walking was about ten centimeters thick, and that nothing supported it¨Ceither here, or back as far as they could see underneath, past where the cathedral had crashed. The rich azure heavens loomed below just as they did above. ¡°Watch your glasses,¡± said Isaac when she took her first glance. This confused Kate for a moment. Watch her glasses? She was wearing them; how could she not watch them? She thought at first that perhaps this was some gag of typical Isaac-tier quality. She realized what he meant just a moment too late. Her prescription glasses, which had always had some trouble staying where they were supposed to be, fell off of her face and down into the beautiful abyss. Her vision blurred; she immediately lost track of them. ¡°Charlie, I choose you!¡± shouted Isaac next to her. He made some kind of throwing motion with his arm. She understood at once. ¡°Yeah!¡± she joined in. ¡°G-go g-ge-g-get em!¡± Charlie (blurry form!) did return her glasses, undamaged. Kate and Isaac set out on a traversal of the sidewalk in the sky. Kate led the way. Isaac wondered out loud whether Kate was too hot in that lab coat and scarf. She was a bit warm, but at this point she felt like leaving them on just to show Isaac that he was wrong. More importantly, this place was beautiful. It gave the impression of walking on a path over a perfectly still sea that mirrored the sky overhead, but this was no reflection. And there were no horizons, no parts of the sky paler than others. The same deep, burning blue, everywhere. And all around hung pure white clouds, solid-looking clouds, waxy-white like the petals of lilies, not in discrete layers but stacked up and up into the vast distances. Most of them drifted far, far away. It was dizzying, like gazing deep into a void no matter where she looked. ¡°It¡¯s like sky all the way up,¡± said Isaac in a wondering voice when Kate stopped for a moment just to marvel at it. ¡°I l-l-li- I love the sky,¡± Kate replied. ¡°Did you know that Montana is called the Big Sky Country?¡± She shook her head. ¡°Yeah, because it¡¯s got, like, a¡­a big¡­uh, sky.¡± Kate glanced at him; he studiously gazed at anything but her. Kate¡¯s phone buzzed. This reminded her that it rested in the pocket of her lab coat, which reminded her that she somehow hadn¡¯t been able to reach Eric or Heidi. This in turn reminded her of what she had been trying not to think about: that Eric and Heidi had seen her after she fell, lying on the street, her blood everywhere, her insides perhaps spread like jelly all over the¡ª Her legs gave out, and she fell to the cement of the sidewalk, narrowly avoiding a tumble right off the edge. She landed on her knees, gifting her kneecaps with bruises which would last for days. The heavy bass guitar clanged to the cement. Isaac shouted something; she felt his hand on her shoulder. She barely heard. She felt sick. The thought of her¨Cherself¨Clying dead on the streets of Chicago¡­And Eric and Heidi seeing her like that and not knowing¡­and she herself not knowing, not for sure, whether she was going to die. That feeling came back to her as she gazed blankly into the blue and white abyss before her, that blinding dread, that numb terror. Pull yourself together, Kate! A flash of acrophobia made her recoil from the edge of the sidewalk. It shook her out of her grim memories. ¡°Kate!¡± she heard Isaac say. ¡°You okay? What¡¯s wrong?¡± ¡°I¡­I¡¯m fine.¡± But she did not think she was very fine. This lab coat she was wearing, that she¡¯d had so much fun making last year, was also somewhere on Earth, soaked in her blood, and Eric had seen her in it. And, oh god¡­what if Leah had also seen her? She strangled a sob. Leah was safe, or she should be. Alan would be there soon. And he would probably find Eric and Heidi, and then they would be okay too. Everyone would be okay. She would be okay. ¡°Is it dying?¡± asked Isaac. ¡°Er, having died, I mean? Is that bothering you?¡± He talked about it so casually. She drew her legs up to her chest, wincing at the fresh bruises rapidly developing on her knees, and sat there in the middle of the sidewalk. She smoothed her pink and green dress over her legs. This dress had come from her closet all the way back home. The colors had always appealed to her; she¡¯d liked the thought of Eric and Heidi meeting her for the first time while she was wearing it. Now it seemed a little obnoxious. No wind, she realized suddenly. No wind here. And she had been uncomfortably warm before, but not now. ¡°Hey, you¡¯re okay now,¡± said Isaac in a lame but earnest attempt to comfort her. ¡°B-b-but Eric and H-heidi s-sa-saw me,¡± she said, ¡°after I f-f-fell. They¡­th-they must have bee-b-have been s-so w-w-wor-w-worried. And sad.¡± ¡°Well hey, just think of how surprised they¡¯ll be when they finally see you again. They¡¯ll be like, ¡®whoa, hey, it¡¯s Kate! Like, what?¡¯¡± His comforting skills needed some work. ¡°Have you tried texting them?¡± he asked. ¡°Here, in this, uh, Museum?¡± ¡°Of course! B-but the messages won¡¯t s-s-send. M-m-maybe we have to go through the d-doors first. I d-don¡¯t know.¡± ¡°Not knowing things is probably normal after you die,¡± said Isaac. ¡°W-w-were you s-scared?¡± Damn it, her stutter made her sound like a blubbering child! ¡°Nah,¡± he said without even pausing to think about it. ¡°When I was actually dying, I mean. I was scared before I was shot, but as soon as I knew I was gonna die it was like¡­I was kind-of disappointed, and a little frustrated¡­but mostly I just thought I was going home. I was excited, actually.¡± Excited? He really did believe in Heaven. Eric was right; Isaac¡¯s faith was no joke. ¡°Too legit to fucking quit,¡± according to Eric. ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± he said as he offered her a hand. ¡°Further up, further in.¡± This sounded like a reference of sorts, but Kate didn¡¯t get it. She accepted his hand and let him help her to her feet. He handed her guitar back to her. Charlie and Navi waited nearby on the sidewalk. Kate loved butterflies, and she already loved Navi, but right now she was jealous of Liz, who had an angel that could be hugged and cuddled with. She missed all of her stuffed animals back home! She didn¡¯t even have Tal the Turtle anymore! Leah was probably taking good care of him. The bottomless void just a couple feet to either side, which had not made her nervous before, now frightened her a little. Isaac led the way. She walked a few steps before remembering what had brought on her brief panic. Her phone! Someone had tried to contact her! But who? When she saw the purple text, she first thought of Isaac. But it was not Isaac; it was Zayana, the girl she had seen before! It looked like she¡¯d been trying to contact Kate for a while. She had left many messages.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. ¡°Your phone works?¡± asked Isaac. ¡°Who is it?¡± ¡°Isaac!¡± she said. ¡°Y-y-you will l-love this! It is a-an alien! And she st-st-studies the s-stars!¡± His eyes widened comically beneath his big stupid hat. ¡°What?¡± She explained briefly about seeing this person before, here in the Museum. Then she looked past Isaac and asked, ¡°D-di-did the sidewalk s-stop here b-be-before?¡± Isaac turned to look and stepped back in surprise. Kate was pretty sure the sidewalk had snaked off into the distance. She remembered mentally preparing herself for a very long walk. But now it stopped just beyond Isaac. Written on the last sidewalk square in blue chalk was the word JUMP! Little colored stars and clouds surrounded it. Kate wrestled with the possibility that the Dark Man, ever austere, had drawn this. She eventually decided: Nah. No way. But she did think they should jump. And Navi, who had been bouncing through the air ahead of them this whole way, dove and came back up, down and back up, miming a suggestion that they obey the chalk. Kate and Isaac leaned over the edge together, Zayana the Alien momentarily forgotten. Nothing but sky below. He looked at her. ¡°We doing it?¡± Isaac appeared to understand that if the Museum told them to jump, it was probably okay. He looked to be adapting to the Museum remarkably well. At first, she¡¯d thought that he was storing up for a freak-out later, but now she thought he was just accepting all of it as real. Good. He was a natural! Kate narrowed her eyes at the space below. She was not scared of heights. Not! It was flying she hated; this was just falling, and she did that perfectly well. She swallowed, clenched her teeth, and nodded. But she didn¡¯t move. She couldn¡¯t take that step forward. She noticed Isaac holding something out to her. No, not something¡ªhis hand. They both looked ahead into the sky, not at each other, as Kate took his hand. Isaac counted them off: ¡°Uh, three¡­two¡­one.¡± They jumped out into the sky. They fell for only a minute, during which Kaitlyn was concerned with keeping her dress, her lab coat, and her scarf under control, while also making sure to keep her glasses on, all while maintaining a death grip on Isaac¡¯s hand with her right hand and clinging to her bass with her left. Isaac looked at her as they tumbled through the piercing blue, one hand clamping his big goofy hat down atop his head, and he grinned at her. But things calmed down after the first minute. A sensation of weightlessness gradually superseded the experience of falling. Another minute, and they felt no wind, and the clouds in the distance no longer passed them by as they fell. Agoraphobia replaced acrophobia, and Kaitlyn became keenly aware of an incredible sense of space. No horizons here, no outer limits, and nothing but distant clouds by which to mark their surroundings. ¡°So the astronomer alien,¡± Isaac prompted. She looked at him. They were still holding hands¨Cprobably a good idea if they didn¡¯t want to drift apart here. But it still felt a little awkward. His hand was a little sweaty. Kate removed the colorful red-purple-pink snowflake scarf from around her neck and handed one end of it to Isaac. She demonstrated what it was for by wordlessly tying her end of it to her hand, letting go of his. Kate¡¯s interests were conflicted: texting an astronomer alien was cool, but so was weightlessness. Isaac seemed unimpressed by the weightlessness, maybe because he knew all about astronauts in space? But he was right: Zayana first. Kate checked her phone. ZA: Kaitlyn Carter? ZA: Are you receiving this? ZA: I was woken up from the dream last week. What were you saying about doors? ZA: Please respond when you are able Kate began reading this to Isaac, but he became impatient with her stutter and demanded that he be the one to read them out loud. She reluctantly turned over her phone. In normal circumstances, Kate¡¯s phone would group together messages sent within a certain period of time. It would differentiate these periods by providing information about when the next message or cluster of messages had been sent. But the time function was all corrupted here in the Museum, leaving only garbled gibberish where a time and date usually went. Kate could only tell that Zayana had sent a number of clusters of messages. ZA: Kaitlyn Carter? ZA: Still not here? ZA: That is too bad. I have many questions. ZA: Don¡¯t we all. ZA: Kaitlyn Carter? ZA: Perhaps our interaction was a one-time event. ZA: Nevertheless you are the only individual with whom I have spoken in this place. ZA: Our interaction, brief though it was, was certainly more pleasant than most of those I have with my compatriots in the waking world. ZA: And it gets lonely here. ZA: This place is so empty. ZA: Its size and variety appear to be limitless. Yet it stands apparently devoid of any inhabitants. ZA: If we meet again ZA: If it is not too forward ZA: I think I would like to hear your Song. ZA: Kaitlyn Carter. ZA: You were real, weren¡¯t you? ZA: Maybe your reality too was a one-time event. ZA: Such things seem possible here. ZA: If you are receiving this, please respond. ZA: There is someone else here. He is not a daimon like us. He is something else. I think he belongs here. ZA: He has been following me. I hear footsteps. ZA: I hope I am not falling to paranoia. ZA: Kaitlyn Carter. ZA: Last week I checked for that name on all the databases I could find. ZA: Those that remain. ZA: Your name was not there, of course. ZA: I suspected as much. Carter is a strange second name. I would have been interested to hear how you earned it, if not for my conviction that it is a cover. ZA: I understand. I have had to use cover names in the past. ZA: I still believe you were real, however. Maybe I believe it only to reassure myself that I am not talking to a figment of my imagination. ZA: I still feel the presence of the strange man now and then. I now believe that he is in some way a custodian of this place. Although he makes me uneasy, I do not believe he means me any harm. ZA: Things are getting bad out there, Kaitlyn Carter. If you are real, and if you are somehow reading this, I hope you are safe. ZA: Some say safety lies in the stars. Most of my friends disagree. They are correct. Nowhere is safe. ZA: Have you been to the far reaches of this place, Kaitlyn Carter? Have you seen the visions out there? ZA: They portray the future. Possibilities. ZA: There may be a way out. ZA: There is a way out, Kaitlyn Carter. ZA: I still think you were real, incidentally. ZA: I hope you are safe. I hope you see this. ZA: Probably the Darkness has taken you. ZA: If you are reading this, and if it is not too late, please try to find me. I am princess Zayana of Meszria. Perhaps you already knew that. ZA: I tried asking the custodian here about you. He is tight-lipped. Perhaps you knew that as well. ZA: Something of great import will soon take place. ZA: I mean beyond that which is ending the world as I dream here. ZA: The things I have seen here on the far horizons of this place¨Cthe Museum, as you called it¨Chave led me to believe that there is a way out. A way to escape the end of the world, and perhaps fix it. ZA: There is little time, but I will try to come here once more before it happens. ZA: Kaitlyn Carter. ZA: Is it strange that I feel such kinship for you when we spoke only once, briefly, months ago? ZA: It will happen very soon. ZA: We are going to end the world prematurely in an attempt to save it. ZA: This event has been named a ¡°Cascade,¡± although my choleric associate prefers the term ¡°Kaleidoscope.¡± ZA: Regardless, I have been found by a creature which, I believe, will permanently take me to this place. All of us, I hope. ZA: Well. ZA: I imagine we will never speak again. ZA: I am only trying to comfort myself. ZA: I am afraid. ZA: Goodbye, Kaitlyn Carter. Isaac stopped for questions frequently as he read; Kate shushed him every time, telling him to hold all questions until the end. When he finished reading, they pondered in silence for a moment. Isaac had drifted upside-down and turned partway around in relation to Kate. ¡°So when exactly did you first talk to this person? This, uh, princess?¡± He made no attempt to hide the skepticism in his voice. He knew she liked fairy tales and princesses and there was nothing wrong with that! ¡°I s-saw her t-to-today! On the p-plane.¡± ¡°Hmm,¡± said Isaac. ¡°Well I guess time is weird here. Like Narnia.¡± Kate nodded. ¡°Now, Meszria¡­that sounds familiar,¡± said Isaac. This brought Kate to full attention. ¡°G-g-go on,¡± she said. But he shook his head; no luck in the memory department. ¡°I think I read it in a book or something? Dunno.¡± ¡°Hmm,¡± said Kate. ¡°Wait,¡± said Isaac, ¡°you saw her?¡± She nodded. ¡°Y-yeah! Sh-she was v-very pretty.¡± She told Isaac about the alien, how she¡¯d had violet jewels on her hair and face, how she¡¯d been roughly humanoid in shape and form, though with grayish skin, how she had looked feminine although she had no breasts¨Cperhaps because her species didn¡¯t lactate or because she was not yet a mature adult. Isaac was fascinated, as well as embarrassed about the part with the breasts, which was funny, but Kate soon ran out of details to give. She¡¯d only got a glimpse! A thought suddenly occurred to her, making her gasp. She reeled Isaac in by the scarf, seized his jacket, and shook him. ¡°Isaac!¡± she exclaimed. ¡°How is she t-te-texting if she¡¯s b-bl-b-if she¡¯s blind, Isaac?!¡± Unfazed by her assault, Isaac rubbed his beardless chin in speculation. ¡°Perhaps she meant it metaphorically.¡± He said this in a vaguely silly voice (posh and refined) that made her think he was making fun of her somehow. She released him and he at once began to drift around in a tight rotation. ¡°Or maybe she¡¯s just using a speech-to-text program,¡± he said, his back now facing her. ¡°You know, she sounded kind of like Liz.¡± ¡°I h-ho- I hope she¡¯s okay,¡± said Kate. Navi appeared in front of her. Kate couldn¡¯t tell whether she teleported there or just emerged from behind a white cloud. Navi and Charlie had excellent camouflage here. ¡°She didn¡¯t sound okay. Or did you mean Liz?¡± said Isaac. ¡°She¡¯s got Callie, right?¡± ¡°B-b-but you had Ch-Charlie,¡± said Kate. ¡°Yeah, I was wondering about that,¡± said Isaac. ¡°Not much help when I was getting shot, were you?¡± He jabbed a finger at something behind Kate. ¡°And not only that, but how can you even fly here? In no-gravity? And that goes for you, too.¡± He swiveled to Navi, who indeed appeared to encounter no difficulty in flitting about even in zero-G. ¡°I w-wo- I wonder w-what Eric¡¯s angel is!¡± said Kate. ¡°A-and Heidi¡¯s. I n-ne-never saw theirs.¡± ¡°Never saw?¡± Isaac looked speculative now. Kate nodded. No point in keeping it a secret anymore. ¡°There are p-places here w-where you can c-ca-catch glimpses. You can see the f-fu- the possibilities. It¡¯s full of w-wha-what-ifs, and maybes.¡± ¡°What-ifs and maybes,¡± said Isaac. ¡°What else should I know about this place? The Museum.¡± ¡°It¡¯s full of d-doors. All kinds! Y-you just need the r-ri- the right key.¡± ¡°Such as, for instance, the angels,¡± said Isaac. She watched him processing it; making connections. ¡°I see,¡± he said after a moment. ¡°So it¡¯s like Sigil.¡± ¡°L-like what?¡± ¡°Sigil, the City of Doors! From Planescape, remember? You said you played at least a little bit, right?¡± Oh yeah! She had. She remembered vaguely now. Sigil had been a weird place that was full of portals to other planes of existence. It checked out. She nodded at Isaac. ¡°Do you know where we need to go next?¡± he asked. She nodded again. ¡°W-we need to f-fi-find our doors! There w-will be six doors, in a he-hexagon.¡± Isaac, now upside-down in relation to Kate, looked surprised. ¡°Like what Jim was talking about that one time during our game?¡± Boy, he sure was sharp. It was easy to forget that. He didn¡¯t wait for a response. Instead, he whistled. Charlie (meadowlark form!) appeared between him and Kate in a flash of white. ¡°Charlie!¡± he called out in a grandiose wizardly voice. ¡°Take us to the six-fold doors!¡± Kate laughed and began to say that she thought they¡¯d have to find their own way, but Charlie flapped his wings before she could finish. He just flapped his wings, that was all, but his pure-white wings swept over her vision, blinding her to all else. When they passed, not a second later, gravity reasserted itself. She fell a couple feet onto a carpeted floor. The impact knocked the breath from her, and her bass guitar landed nearby with a heavy thud. Charlie had taken them to the part that actually resembled an ornate museum barren of displays, or perhaps an upscale hotel barren of people. Overhead, Navi fluttered around a golden chandelier which hung from an arched-marble dome. She stood. Potted plants and tapestries, Japanese-style folding doors with abstract patterns inked on them, park benches against one wall, a film of water flowing silently down an incline of black granite on the other. The smell of a greenhouse. The water ran into a wide trough that rippled with the current. Isaac sat at her feet, gazing about with childlike curiosity. She snatched the hat off his head and threw it Frisbee-style into the elegant waterfall against the wall. ¡°Hi-yaa!!¡± It cut through the air in a graceful upward swoop, looped back around, and then dove directly into the flowing film of water. ¡°Hey!¡± said Isaac, although he continued to just sit there without doing anything. The hat slid down into the trough of water. It floated there, partially submerged. Kate fished it out and returned to Isaac with it up against her face. She inhaled deeply. Yes . It did smell like horses! The sweet, musky scent brought back memories. ¡°W-we used t-to have horses,¡± she told him. ¡°Aunt Becky knew h-how to sh-shoe them and take ca-c- take care of them.¡± Aunt Becky sold them after Kate¡¯s dad had vanished. Nobody liked the horses more than Nicholas Carter, and Aunt Becky didn¡¯t want to be reminded of her half-brother¡¯s absence. Isaac snatched the hat back and plopped it, dripping wet, onto his head¨Cbut not before taking a deep smell of his own. ¡°Reminds me of the 4 th of July rodeo back home,¡± he said. Kate offered him the end of her bass to help him to his feet. She strummed a few open fifths on it, just to reassure herself that it still functioned. It did, even without an amp or power supply. As always, the Museum subtly responded. Did the plants nearby perk up a bit? Did the steady light from the golden chandelier flicker, just a little? Did the patterns of ink on the folding doors shift? Maybe. Maybe. Charlie (heron form!) perched on the edge of the water, watching the ripples. Navi flitted up and alighted gracefully on the end of his long beak. The eyeless white heron gracefully turned its head this way and that in an attempt to get a better look at whatever had landed on his beak. Isaac handed her back her scarf. The room was too warm to allow for wearing it, so she bunched it up and stuffed it into a pocket of her lab coat. They left through the only exit, a black marble arch that opened into a short hallway lined with doors. Each of these doors, maybe a dozen, displayed a different color, and were carved with different abstract patterns. It was almost certain that these doors were locked, and if she and Isaac tried to get them open anyway, then the Dark Man might show up, and he might possibly even be a bit cross. That was all right, though. The door they wanted stood at the far end. It did not look at all out of place in the Museum, except for the symbol of the hexagon painted on it, divided into six equal parts. ¡°That¡¯s the one?¡± asked Isaac. Kate nodded as they approached. Their angels flew before them and settled on either side of the door like unusual sentinels. Charlie looked at the door expectantly. Navi might have been doing the same; it was hard to tell with butterflies. Kate had known this moment would come, or had hoped for it, for a while now. But here it was. She knew only a little about what was on the other side of this door, and what it meant. A lot of the things she knew were not good. They made her afraid. But something exciting waited too, something like beautiful music in a cold, dark place. She shivered with excitement. She grasped the shiny golden doorknob and entered. Six plain grey walls made a hexagon of the small room within. Lines on the grey stone floor divided the room into six equilateral triangles about ten feet to a side. Equilateral triangles could tessellate forever; so could regular hexagons. Six triangles, six symbols, six doors. Kate knew hers right away: the snowflake. She knew Isaac¡¯s too. Charlie stalked gracefully, still in heron form, to the door corresponding to the cube, Isaac¡¯s symbol. Isaac had the weirdest door of them all! It was just a silvery arch with buttons and screens and stuff on the sides like some science-fiction portal. ¡°Whoa!¡± he said when he saw it. He practically ran over to the door to make a closer inspection. Spiraling filaments of gold and silver traced the brightly colored glass on Kate''s own door, all within a frame of burnished bronze and lacquered pink wood. She couldn¡¯t help but smile. She didn¡¯t know what lay on the other side, but she sure was excited to find out! Electronic sounds and flashing lights behind her indicated that Isaac had done something with his door. He began to say something, but a gust of air that blew Kate¡¯s hair around her face interrupted him, followed by a hiss of pressurization. Kate spun around and was not surprised to see Isaac and his angel gone. Lights blinked on his metallic arch of a door and tendrils of steam crawled along the floor where he had stood. Kate took a deep breath. Her turn. She reached out for the fancifully curved doorknob and rested a hand upon it. With her other hand, she raised the bass before her. Navi came and landed upon the neck. Kate smiled at her and imagined Navi smiling back in encouragement. She closed her eyes, opened her door, and stepped through. Chapter 6 Chapter 6 Heidi ¡°What I¡¯m saying is, you should talk about nerd shit with Isaac,¡± said Eric. ¡°I thought Isaac was dead,¡± said Heidi. She snuck a glance out of the corner of her vision to see how Eric took this. He seemed to take it in stride, as he did most things, but it was so hard to tell. ¡°Maybe. My sources on this data are sketchy, which is to say I have no idea who the hell that was on the phone. We don¡¯t know. Anyway, if Kate¡¯s alive, then Isaac might also still be alive. Assuming he died.¡± His voice broke a little at the end. Heidi thought that this was an awful lot of conjecture. Eric now assuming that Kate somehow still lived especially concerned her. They had both seen her body. The thought still chilled Heidi. And Isaac¡­even though he was weird and stupid, the thought of him being dead was just as bad. Kate dying to save Leah was tragic, but at least it had happened in a way that made sense. She had fallen from a building; October Industries could be blamed. Isaac being randomly murdered by some psychopath in Montana, on the other hand, was simply strange and disturbing in a way that made everything more real. This was a terrible line of thinking, Heidi knew, but she couldn¡¯t help it. They had traveled some distance through that which Kaitlyn¡¯s notes called the ¡°Museum.¡± Heidi had not visited many museums. If this was a museum, then it was long after closing time, and she wasn¡¯t supposed to be in it. ¡°If he did die,¡± continued Eric, ¡°he better have died with honor. Or else Mike¡¯s gonna be ticked.¡± He smiled a crooked smile. An inside joke. Eric had lots of them, and Heidi knew none of them. This one sounded a bit grim. He must be referring to Jimothy¡¯s brother, Michael. They emerged onto an intricate iron catwalk which extended over a lush indoor garden. No railings, and a thirty-foot drop to the ground below. They kept moving. Nothing of interest here. Eric led the way, looking for all the world like he knew exactly where they were headed. They had a clue, nothing more, but that clue was their only guide. It was a picture drawn by Kate on one of the last pages of her book of notes about the Museum. A hexagon, separated into six parts, inside a bigger rectangle that could be a door. The words ¡°Hey! Go here!¡± had been scrawled at the top, with an arrow pointing down at the door just in case the reader had somehow reached a state of confusion as to what this message referred to. Eric had decided that Kate had left this directive just for them. So now they sought a hexagon-inscribed door. They had seen a lot of doors so far, many of them unusual in degrees ranging from slight to overwhelming, but no hexagon. When he neared the far end of the walkway, Frisby Wiser flew up to Eric, laboring under the weight of an unfamiliar blue fruit which he had presumably picked from the garden below. Eric took the fruit, looked at it for only a moment, then bit into it and kept going. He stopped just before the end of the walkway to spit out his mouthful of fruit and toss the rest of it back down to the greenery below. He raised his left hand to wipe his mouth, realized that Kate¡¯s bloody scarf, now dried, hung around his wrist, and paused. He began to turn back to Heidi, hesitated, then shook his head and continued on. Then they came to the Planetarium; Heidi knew this because a plaque at the open entrance identified it as such. Once more a narrow catwalk, once more without railings. This time a black void lay in every direction, broken only by glowing spheres above. Heidi, looking up, could not tell how far away they were, or how large. Looking up, she very nearly stepped right off the catwalk. The toes of her left foot landed partway off the edge. ¡°Careful,¡± she said to Eric. She kept her voice level, though her heart hammered in sudden panic at the thought of stepping off into the blank abyss. ¡°Whoa, you think?¡± His voice came from the darkness ahead. Divorced from the visage of Mr. Cool himself, Eric¡¯s voice sounded small and young. A boy¡¯s voice. Heidi didn¡¯t want to think of him that way, but that¡¯s how it struck her. The voice continued: ¡°I don¡¯t know, I was kind-of planning on just fucking around in here, you know? Like, why not? Fathomless void we got in here probably just for show.¡± They continued carefully in silence for another minute. They drew under the floating orbs above, but Heidi didn¡¯t dare turn her concentration overhead. She heard Eric¡¯s footsteps clanging softly on the iron of the walkway. They paused for a moment. ¡°Stairs,¡± he said. ¡°Handrail.¡± Handrail. Thank god. Eric began beatboxing partway up the stairs. Heidi found this annoying¨Cnot in itself, but because of where they were. This huge dark space seemed special, almost sacred somehow. It might have been her imagination, but she thought she could physically feel the surrounding vastness pressing in. And Eric beatboxing here was like¡­like beatboxing in the silence before an orchestra begins. Couldn¡¯t he feel it? Maybe he did feel it and made noise in defiance of it. That sounded like Eric. They came to a platform. Frisby Wiser, although he did not shed any light, remained visible as a ghostly shape even in this darkness. Their angels, apparently, could see in the dark without any trouble. Eric asked Frisby to trace the outline of the platform, revealing its dimensions to the two of them. Roughly circular, maybe forty feet across. Now she looked up at the great spheres above, aware that Eric was doing the same beside her. Planets, obviously. A big one dominated the middle, blue and green and white like Earth. Six smaller spheres orbited like moons, spaced evenly around the central world. Six moons: a sparkling white one, an empty black one, a dull grey one, one covered in dark clouds, one covered in city lights, and one which was spiky like a sea urchin. A small bright object, possibly a distant sun, appeared far overhead. She reviewed the big central planet to make sure it wasn¡¯t Earth. It was not; she could make out continents she did not recognize, and if she was looking up at its southern side, it lacked an Antarctica. ¡°Eh,¡± said Eric after they¡¯d both taken it in. That single sound conveyed an apathy and disinterest that Heidi found strangely amusing. This Museum and everything in it was crazy and fantastical, but Eric had found his own way of describing it: ¡®eh.¡¯ ¡°Bet you don¡¯t get to meet many people out in Barbados,¡± said Eric, just making conversation as they continued on their way and descended another series of steps. This made Heidi smile. Barbados was in the Caribbean. Not even close, Eric. ¡°No,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s normally just me and Alan.¡± Eric said, ¡°Huh,¡± and continued on. They eventually reached a lit corridor, mint-green tile. Beyond, with uncanny timing, they found a pair of restrooms, restaurant-like, with a single upward-moving escalator beyond. The escalator made no noise at all beyond a faint hum. They availed themselves of the restrooms, which struck Heidi as oddly mundane. Then they took the escalator up. It ascended infinitely for all they could see. It took them up through a glass tube, windows on all sides and only a silvery grey fog beyond. Something about the fog disturbed Heidi, although she could not put her finger on why. It didn¡¯t really look exactly like fog; it looked more like someone¡¯s idea of fog¨Csomeone who¡¯d had fog described to them but had never seen it themselves. It looked like something else disguising itself as fog, with only moderate success. Part of it was the texture. The mist beyond the windows was thick and grainy; it gathered together in stringy clumps just how a gaseous substance really shouldn¡¯t. Part of it was the movement. The tendrils and banks of fog that they passed eddied oddly, randomly, writhing with mysterious intent. But the real issue¨Cthe thing that made both Heidi and Eric unconsciously draw toward the center of the escalator, as far from the fog-bound windows as possible¨Cwas the way the fog coalesced into a solid image in the peripheries of their vision, only to dissolve back to meaninglessness when directly observed. None of this registered on a conscious level, not for the first few minutes that Heidi and Eric and their angels rode the escalator up, up, up. They only knew that the silvery gray fog out there made them uneasy. After the first few minutes, a change became apparent. Images coalesced in the soupy haze, and they lingered even when looked at. Familiar images. Images, increasingly, with color and even motion. Images, most of all, which conveyed potent emotional content. Heidi saw a tiny figure sitting on the edge of a green sailboat, looking away, long reddish hair streaming to the side in a warm, gentle breeze, gazing at the lingering embers of a dying sunset over the sea. Overhead, twilight stars appeared. This scene filled Heidi with a sense of peace and melancholy. A featureless dark figure squatted on a slope of sharp black rocks, peering up at a sky filled with strange lights while horrible forms slouched and stumbled aimlessly around it. She felt the figure¡¯s rage, and loneliness, and fear. Bright square fields of water marched to the distance in a perfect golden grid, and tall long-legged machines or creatures stepped placidly beneath yellow clouds. The images flashed by, each accompanied by impressions just as in a dream. Heidi tore her gaze away and looked at Eric. She didn¡¯t know what her own face looked like just then, but it probably wasn¡¯t like Eric¡¯s. He looked critical, skeptical, unimpressed. Frisby, amusingly, seemed to be imitating Eric, his tiny snout turned up disdainfully at the parade of scenes. Seeing Frisby made Heidi think she understood Eric¡¯s attitude. He was focused. He cared about one thing right now: Leah. Anything else did not deserve his interest. She looked up the path of the escalator, saw no end to it, and turned her gaze back on the windows. Kate was out there, along with a boy her age who matched the description of Isaac. They were holding hands, frozen in a pose that indicated they were jumping or had just jumped off of something. Isaac, eyes wide, clutched at a big hat with one hand, while a laughing and exhilarated Kate held her green bass out to one side. Isaac¡¯s jacket and Kate¡¯s lab coat billowed up behind them. Kate¡¯s dress rose past her knees. Her scarf, the same scarf now wrapped around Eric¡¯s hand, trailed up into the blankness above. Her scarf was not bloody, and the scar on her face was gone. Heidi looked over to check and make sure Eric still had the scarf. She looked just in time to see him remove the firearm from his bag and slam it against the window. The sudden violence, as well as the fact that the aim of the handgun had briefly moved through her space, made her jump. ¡°Eric!¡± She almost added, what are you doing, but she knew. She understood. The impact of Eric¡¯s handgun made a thick crack on the glass, but the window held. The crack slid down and away from them as the escalator continued up. Eric aimed up at the oncoming glass and fired twice. The window shattered, and in some kind of chain reaction, all the other windows along the escalator shattered as well. For an instant, the air hung thick with a sparkling galaxy of glass shards spraying in every direction. When the windows broke, some force sucked Heidi and Eric out into the fog beyond. Heidi shielded her eyes and reached out to grab hold of Eric¡¯s backpack. Instead of the backpack, she found something cool and smooth and scaly. It pulled her into a forceful collision with another object that grunted at the impact. They each grabbed on to the other as they spun out into the gray haze. Later, neither of them could well describe what happened next. They could explain to the others about the chaos and the confusion, about the cacophony of colors and sounds and emotions that assailed them, about the disorientation of skipping randomly from one vision to another like a television flipping through channels. They could say these things, but never could they make the others understand the horrible sense of disjunction, the loss of identity. Every time they skipped into a different scene, that place and experience alone existed, and that version of themselves alone remained true. Each step into a new experience was like waking up with the horrible dawning realization that their entire previous life had been nothing but a dream. They became lost in the fog. At least they were lost together. Michael Whyte tried to appear natural in the brightly lit aisle of an art supply store. Michael¡¯s, no less, Jimothy¡¯s favorite. He gazed at row upon row of paints: oils, acrylics, watercolors, all of various consistencies, tempers, shades, viscosities, whatever man, he didn¡¯t know anything about paint! He¡¯d have to learn, though, if Jimothy expected him to go shopping for him more than once. Michael looked down at the list in his hand. Jimothy had written it, which meant that Michael could hardly read it. How could Jimothy¡¯s hand be so steady and perfect when drawing things but so shaky and terrible when writing? Maybe Michael should tell him to draw the list next time rather than write it. He considered asking an employee for help. He doubted they could decipher the instructions any more than he could, but maybe they¡¯d be able to at least get him some basics. Oils. Jimothy used oils, mostly. He knew that much. Oils. Right. Eric and his girlfriend walked together through Millennium Park. Millennium Park¨Cwas it clich¨¦, Eric wondered? First date, play it safe, hey why not some boring-ass stroll through a park? But he knew she liked nature and shit (¡°nature and shit,¡± he thought to himself, ¡°nice one Eric, maybe try that line on her¡±), so here they were, approaching construction on the something-something-Daley park across the way. This date did not seem to be going well; they were just sort of meandering in the same general direction together. Eric knew things were not too hot when he began snapping his fingers, mentally occupied with a rhythm. It was about then that a tall dark pole, some kind of unfinished light fixture along the sidewalk, fell upon Sharon, Eric¡¯s new girlfriend, striking her to the ground. She cried out. Eric stood dumb in shock and surprise, in the back of his mind thankful that she was clutching her head in pain because at least that meant she wasn¡¯t fucking dead, right? Dwayne Hartman offered Leah Walker a piece of hard candy, fished from the dusty, cracked glove-box of his battered 1972 Ford pickup truck. The truck, its rusty once-cherry-red exterior chipped and caked with dried dirt, rattled uneasily down a sunny two-track dirt road cutting through fields of dry yellow grass. The two occupants bounced high with every pothole (there were many), for neither seatbelt functioned. They bounced on chunky yellow foam, in some places worn nearly through to the metal beneath, the cloth cover long since disintegrated. Dwayne Hartman¡¯s scarred, chapped hand, the one which had given candy to Leah Walker, had the word ¡°HOLD¡± tattooed in faded blue ink below the knuckles, and it worked the slippery gearshift with practiced ease. Leah, in blue-rimmed sunglasses, sucked on the candy and gazed out at the passing countryside with fascination. She had never seen so much open space. The furrowed, weathered, cowboy-hat-shaded face of Dwayne Hartman bore an expression of weary concern. In a place of sand and salt and bright coral and burning sunlight, a collection of strange creatures gathered. These colorful people, large and small, resembled a variety of animals. Some had colored crystals on them; others had colored spikes growing from their bodies. One was a giant; one was a dragon; one was a priest. There were more, many more, too many. There was fire and wrath and fear and love, and most of all, song. Their furious emotions, spinning and pulsing like exploding stars, making a grand music together, carried them along toward disaster like an irresistible tide. One of them, the priest, saw it all coming, and he looked with a chameleon eye right at you, assessing, wondering. [What? Me?] Elizabeth Eddison sang in a bright, cold place. The snow, like stars, drifted from a darkness overhead, but stars shone there too. In that crisp, bright darkness, Elizabeth sang a beautiful song, and her music stirred the Empyrean. [Eric moved; Heidi realized he existed near her; she realized she did not exist there with Elizabeth in that high, frozen place; confusion consumed her; she was there with Elizabeth, in that time, in that place¨Cand she was not.] Elizabeth¡¯s song cut off and she spun, eyes wide, to look at Heidi. ¡°Heidi?¡± she asked. ¡° Eric ?¡± Abraham Black: lips cracked, eyes smokestacks, skin blistered candlewax, Jack-in-the-box smile, vile hair packed back under mile-tracked black hat, twin pistols racked ¡®neath twitching chapped hands, teeth blood-stained, red-veined, laughter now a bile-wracked half-pained hack¨CGod help us all, he¡¯s back, he¡¯s back, it¡¯s Abraham Black. (turn back, turn back, here comes Abraham Black) That¡¯s what they say; that¡¯s the old song they sing. He moves without moving, arms outstretched, silver guns hot, spitting cold fire and sweet dark demise, and that bloody smile don¡¯t touch those cold bloodshot eyes. He thunders, and they fall, one-by-one like a bowling-ball-struck line of pins. And there they are: the brother, the sister, the aunt falling, shape and sky falling, and the father [Heidi cries out], not really a father, struck down by a too-well-placed bullet that never was chambered. [¡°No!¡± shouts Heidi, ¡°Stop!¡± She tries to raise her gun; she remembers she¡¯s not really there; then where is she? No, here is her gun, here is her hand, here is Alan Sheppard dying at her feet, his blood on her sandals, here is Abraham Black, surprised but not unpleased by this development, here is his bullet as it speeds toward Heidi¡¯s heart and [here is Bahamut] Nikola Raschez bounced a blue rubber ball (racquetball) steadily against a chalky, chipped cinderblock wall. Lights from a dozen monitors reflected in his glasses. Raschez was watching, watching them all, all six. There they all were on his screens, playing basketball, painting, rolling polyhedral dice with friends, gardening, surfing, inventing. [It hurt; Heidi hurt; something was hurting her; but how? She wasn¡¯t really here¡­was she? Heidi cried out in pain; had she been shot?] The orange and grey logo of October Industries decorated the stacked banks of computer servers. Jimothy Whyte (green text , R:0 / G:176 / B:80, Courier New , bold): I don¡¯t think this is going to be the kind of story you want it to be. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. Amelia Shape and Elmer Sky marveled at the fish swimming in the little pool in the mall. Elmer Sky made some enquiries and discovered that these fish were called koi. All of them? He¡¯d asked. Yes, all of them, he¡¯d been told. But they all look different! They¡¯re even different colors! Yet they are all the same kind of fish? Yeah, I guess so, said the random passerby. Amelia liked the fact that they came up to the surface when she approached, gaping up out of the water with their big-lipped vacuum mouths, wishing to be fed. This made Amelia smile, which made Elmer very happy. Koi! [Heidi was bleeding, dying maybe; but how, when she wasn¡¯t here? Blood dripped into the koi pool; Elmer Sky would have seen it had he not turned away just at that moment.] Isaac Milton, but different. A little bit taller, stronger, older. He wore a sleek black spacesuit and a matching black helmet with a dark faceplate, completely opaque. His face was a single mirrored eye, reflecting all, itself unseen. He drifted in space, crawling stars on all sides. Pieces of a space station moved around him, some of them at high velocity. He sprawled unmoving, floating through the debris, dead at first glance. Then he turned, expertly maneuvering in the weightless void through no means immediately apparent. Below him sprawled the dark expanse of Icarus, his moon. But not for long. Not for long. His friends tried to speak to him, but he would not hear. His angel swooped around him, but he would not see. He knew what he had to do. He had died for this, for the ability to change something. And God had told him what to do. So he ignored his friends, and his angel, and the AI he had created, and even Anzu. Here among the wreckage, among the stars, Isaac Milton listened to God. Droplets of blood drifted past; one of them collided with his faceplate and slid off the frictionless surface. Blood? Whose, he wondered? [Mine! shouted Heidi; Help me, Isaac! Eric! Anyone. I¡¯m dying¡­] Isaac heard this and twisted around. Digitized words flashed in the air before him: Heidi? Heidi fell onto a hard wooden floor, coughing and gasping for breath. Pain flared through her body. Shot? Yes, she¡¯d been shot. In the side. She groaned and tried to roll over, but the pain froze her. Eric, next to her, made a noise of pure confusion: ¡°eeaughh?¡± Heidi opened her eyes and blinked a few times, alarmed at how long it took for her vision to focus into something coherent. Where? When? Who? The Museum, something said to her, something foreign but not malignant. Here, now, you. That was it¨Cthat was what she needed to hear: you. ¡°Me,¡± she whispered. ¡°Heidi. Me.¡± That was her. Heidi Sheppard. And she¡¯d been shot. She looked around. Eric, blinking and trying to sit up next to her, holding his head. Not shot? Didn¡¯t look like it. But he did have a gash on his forehead, and his jacket was torn and bloody. Frisby Wiser perched on his shoulder, nosing at Eric¡¯s cheek in concern. She turned to look the other way and found herself face-to-face with Bahamut, which for a brief moment terrified her. (black, smokestack black) Then something else replaced fear. Comfort? Somehow, despite the lack of eyes or immediately recognizable facial features, she sensed that Baha was concerned for her. He dropped something small and hard and shiny onto the wooden floor. A bullet¨Ca big char-black bullet, crumpled from impact, stained red. ¡°Heidi! Oh shit, hang on.¡± Eric appeared above her. She felt him apply pressure to her wound, accompanied by a dull throb of pain. Her vision grayed. Her angel stopped the bullet shortly after impact. Her injury is not critical. Eric and Heidi paused as one to listen to the voice. Hearing it made Heidi remember something [here is Bahamut]. Hadn¡¯t he flashed into being at the instant that Abraham Black had fired? Heidi had never been shot before, but she knew what being gut-shot was supposed to feel like. The pain she felt now, though alarming at first, seemed superficial. Skin deep. Even now, she thought she would be able to sit up without too much pain-something not at all possible had a bullet really torn through her abdominal muscles. ¡°You caught the bullet, Baha?¡± asked Eric. ¡°Nice. Good job.¡± Heidi did sit up, assuring a protesting Eric that it was fine, she was fine. Blood had soaked through a large part of her tank top, though. She rolled her shirt up to get a look at the wound. A clean hole in her sun-darkened skin, four inches to the right of her navel. Eric had been trying to staunch the blood with that most immediately at hand: the already-bloody scarf which had belonged to Kate. If they ever met Kate again, Heidi doubted she would want it back. She took it from Eric, bundled it up into a tight wad, then removed the belt from her shorts and used it to pin the scarf tightly against the wound. When she was sure it was secure, she lowered her bloody tank top back over it all and leaned back down to the floor. ¡°What a mess,¡± said Eric, being Eric. His tone suggested that he meant everything from Heidi¡¯s current appearance to what they had just experienced to this entire place, up to and including everything that had happened since Heidi had arrived in Chicago. ¡°So that was Black,¡± he continued as if to himself. ¡°Shit. Isaac was right. And he shot you?¡± Heidi nodded up at Eric as she used her handkerchief to wipe the sweat from her face and then re-fasten it as her headband. ¡°What happened to you?¡± she asked him. Blood trickled apparently unnoticed down the side of his face from a long gash, eyebrow to ear. A bruise was already forming there, and parts of his clothes on that side of his body had horizontal tears in them. ¡°Got hit by flying space shit in the last one,¡± he said, ¡°with that guy who I guess is, like, Isaac somehow.¡± Heidi shook her head. ¡°What was all that?¡± Possibilities. They looked around. Eric offered Heidi a hand to help her get up. She reached out to accept, but some gentle force lifted her up and onto her feet before she could even grab his hand. It was Bahamut. Easy to forget how large and strong he was. He felt as strong as Alan. Here Heidi got her first inkling of the idea that she and Bahamut might become friends. ¡°Okay then,¡± said Eric, withdrawing his hand. ¡°Next: who¡¯s that talking to us?¡± Me, said the voice. Somehow, although not audibly heard, it gained a directional aspect. Behind them. They turned around as one and saw a dark figure emerge from a door in the center back wall of the small featureless room. Fine suit, black hat, cane topped with a shiny silver ball. Not Abraham Black (turn back, turn back). ¡°That mist can be dangerous,¡± said the stranger. His voice phased from mental to audible partway through. The voice sounded normal, plain, a little scratchy. ¡°You are new here, and my guests.¡± Bahamut slithered along the floor like rapidly pooling ink, gathering itself up at the feet of this stranger. Frisby Wiser also swooped through the air to settle atop the silver ball on the man¡¯s cane while he held it at his side. The tiny white dragon resting on the cane, and the black monstrosity coiled at his feet, both appeared natural there, as though they together made a complete set. He smiled¨Ca genuine smile, rather than the eerie rictus of Abraham Black. ¡°You have places to be,¡± he continued. He raised a hand to stroke Frisby, then raised aloft his cane with the dragon still perched on top. ¡°Follow this one,¡± he said, ¡°and you will find your doors. Remember, this is your last chance. Make it count.¡± He turned to leave, but Eric somehow broke out of the weird trance that his presence had put them under. ¡°What about Leah?¡± he asked. His voice shook. Heidi¡¯s first thought was to wonder why Eric thought this strange man would know anything about Leah. Surely he would just say, ¡®who?¡¯ But the man in the suit turned, stuttered, flickered. Multiple overlapping instantiations spoke at once. ¡°She¡¯s with Alan Sheppard,¡± he said. ¡°She¡¯s not here yet,¡± he said. ¡°She¡¯s a dragon,¡± he said. ¡°I left her a letter,¡± he said. Then, with the sound of a door clicking shut, he was gone. Only then did Heidi feel like she could breathe. She and Eric looked at each other, then said together, ¡°The Dark Man.¡± They knew him from Kate¡¯s notes. ¡®Spooky creeper guy,¡¯ she¡¯d written. Caretaker? Owner? Not dangerous, at least not if you followed the rules, Kate was pretty sure. Well, he¡¯d just saved their lives, hadn¡¯t he? And Bahamut had just saved Heidi , hadn¡¯t he? Otherwise some of her internal organs would have unhelpful holes in them, wouldn¡¯t they? ¡°Bahamut,¡± she called. The many-legged lizard creature perked up and scuttled to Heidi with frightening speed. He reared up on his back legs, raising his head to a level with Heidi¡¯s. ¡°Thank you,¡± she said. She reached out to hug him, paused to reassess how best this could be accomplished with all his legs, then went in for the embrace. It was like hugging a cool, smooth palm tree that wriggled and twitched in her arms. He was only as big around as a ten-pound iron weight; she could easily grab her own elbows. After just a moment, Bahamut hugged her back; she felt his relatively short little clawed arms reaching around behind her. She could tell that he was being careful with her injury. A camera shutter sounded nearby. ¡°Oops,¡± said Eric, ¡°thought I had the sound off.¡± This ruined the moment. Heidi released her angel and saw Eric messing with his phone, oblivious to Frisby Wiser trying to hug his shoulder with tiny, adorable little dragon arms. ¡°Had to capture the moment,¡± Eric continued. ¡°That¡¯s probably as cute as you¡¯re gonna get.¡± He grinned at the joke, secure in his belief that it would not hurt her. But it did. Heidi checked her makeshift bandage. It had already nearly bled through, but she thought that the bleeding had slowed. She felt a little lightheaded at the blood loss. And thirsty. But she would be okay. ¡°Hey, look,¡± said Eric, moving with a slight limp to where the Dark Man had appeared. He returned with two large gourds, stopped with rough corks, full of cool water. They drank without hesitation. After this, Heidi made Eric use her headband as a bandage for his still-bleeding gash. Then they set off, following an eager Frisby Wiser to an unknown destination. Heidi looked behind when they passed the first door and saw that her shoes had left bloody tracks on the floor. Not her blood, though. It was Alan¡¯s blood. She remembered standing in it. Had she really been there? She¡¯d certainly been shot there. Eric had pocketed the bullet. ¡°It was real,¡± said Eric, ahead of her, perhaps having the same thoughts himself. ¡°But not¡­not really real.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°We saw the same things, right? One of the first ones was me and Sharon¡­¡± Heidi nodded. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you had a girlfriend. Was she okay?¡± ¡°Hey, you didn¡¯t ask. But that¡¯s the thing¨Cthat never happened. We went to Millennium Park, then straight up decided to go do something else. Never had that walk, never got shanked by a fucking lightpost. Also, it was quick, the girlfriend thing. Didn¡¯t work out.¡± ¡°So maybe¡­¡± began Heidi. ¡°And Leah,¡± said Eric. ¡°She looked at least as old as she is right now, and I know she¡¯s never been wherever the hell that was.¡± ¡°Do you know that man? Dwayne¡­uh...¡± ¡°Dwayne Hartman. Yeah, he¡¯s Isaac¡¯s friend back in Montana. He¡¯s cool. But that never happened.¡± ¡°Do you know who that, uh, Shape and Sky were? Or those¡­musical creatures?¡± ¡°No clue. Do you know about that Nikola guy?¡± Heidi shivered. Something about that one had been very sad, very strange, very wrong. He had been¡­what, monitoring them? Had that really happened? But no, she had no idea, and she told him so. ¡°And Isaac,¡± Eric went on, verbally processing, ¡°he was older, right? Couldn¡¯t see him, but I just knew, somehow. Finally gone batshit crazy, I guess. That hasn¡¯t happened. But Jim¡¯s text¨CI think I remember that from fucking Banana Quest.¡± Ah, the illustrious Banana Quest. ¡°So maybe some of it¡¯s happened, some of it might have happened, and some of it maybe will hap¨C¡± He stopped. ¡°So that¡¯s how she did it. That¡¯s how she knew.¡± Heidi nodded in understanding. Kate¡¯s prescience. ¡°And Liz,¡± Eric went on, ¡°and Black¡­yeah, it all makes sense. How you¡¯d kind of know a lot of shit if you went there, but none of it would be certain.¡± He looked back at Heidi. ¡°That thing with Black hasn¡¯t happened.¡± He was trying to reassure her. But Alan¡¯s blood was still on the soles of her sandals. He was right. It hadn¡¯t happened. Not yet. They continued limping uneventfully through hall after hall, occasionally entering a larger space. Often these spaces housed spectacles, but she and Eric had had about enough of that. They reached their destination in a matter of minutes. A door, of course, one with a hexagon on it. Eric pushed through without stopping. Inside: six more doors, six walls, six triangular segments of the floor with six symbols. Frisby led them right to an old polished wooden door of dark vertical boards, curved on top, with an old-style iron latch system. It adjoined the triangular floor-section inscribed with a heart. Heidi began to follow, but Baha tugged gently at her leg, urging her toward a solid metal door across from Frisby¡¯s. ¡°Looks like we each have a door,¡± said Eric. He pointed. ¡°Paintbrush is Jim, of course. Flower is Liz. Snowflake is Kate. You¡¯re the compass?¡± Heidi shrugged. Compasses meant nothing special to her, apart from the fact that she often used them when navigating nearby islands. Alan had given her one as a gift for her last birthday. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s a coda?¡± Eric mused. ¡°That¡¯s a musical thing, right?¡± ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s like when you think a song is over¡­then BAM. It¡¯s not.¡± Heidi shrugged again. Codas, like compasses, meant nothing special to her. ¡°Or a bullseye? Kinda looks like a bullseye. That makes more sense.¡± Heidi nodded. It did make more sense. ¡°And I get a heart? What is this, some Captain Planet bullshit? Whatever. Hearts are cool, I guess. Kinda important. That leaves the cube for Isaac,¡± Eric concluded. ¡°What the fuck. Well, I guess he likes rolling dice?¡± Heidi didn¡¯t understand any of this. But she had a door, and she was meant to go through it. That much was clear. She had a door, and it was hers. Somehow, that meant a lot. Here, in this strange place, was something especially for her. Maybe no one else could open this door. Hers. She reached out a hand and touched it. A solid rectangle of cool, dark metal, bolted around the edges. A seam crossed from upper right to center left, back to bottom right; another seam mirrored this one, creating a diamond shape in the middle. A black pad about a foot square was set in the center of this diamond. A handprint scanner. ¡°Count of three?¡± said Eric behind her. She turned to look at him. ¡°You¡¯ll be okay, right?¡± he asked, his eyes flicking down to her bloody shirt. She nodded at him, not in the mood to speak. He nodded back, then took a moment to dig around in his backpack and locate his regular sunglasses. With those, the blood, and the headband, he looked pretty cool. ¡°All right, then,¡± he said. ¡°Let¡¯s see where this goes.¡± Heidi turned back to her own door. Eric counted down: ¡°Three¡­two¡­one.¡± Heidi placed her hand on the black pad. Green lines flashed, crossed over each other. The whole pad flashed green after only a moment. A heavy, solid clang shook the door, internal locking mechanisms turning. The heavy metal door separated with a grinding rumble; a section slid into the wall on each side: up, down, left. The rightmost section took the center diamond with it. A dark space lay beyond, calling her. Bahamut slithered through. She stepped through, and she didn¡¯t look back. Chapter 7 Chapter 7 Jacob Hollow After his painfully difficult conversation with Eric, Jacob had attempted to clean the blood off of Isaac¡¯s phone. He wasn¡¯t sure how much water he could safely use without breaking the phone, so he used snow. He wasn¡¯t sure that this was any better. But after he dried it on his hoodie while leaving the town of Pike, beneath a breaking sky, it still seemed functional. The road beneath him was not the one he had come in on, but it might as well have been. It was the same bright, cold, empty air around him. The same crisp wind, the same leaning barbed wire fences, the same distant cattle huddling on yellow hills. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you know where the rest are?¡± he asked as he walked alone down the cold asphalt. The rest of what? The other kids? ¡°Others like me. Like Black. Strangers here.¡± Oh. Sorry, no. We don¡¯t have their books. ¡°Where¡¯d you get mine?¡± Derxis found it. ¡°What does it look like? Oh, sorry. Forgot.¡± That is fine. I can tell you everything but its appearance. It is weighty, large. The cover is made of wood. The front has been crafted to portray many birds in relief. I can feel the detail. I¡¯m told they are brightly colored. Your name is imprinted among the birds: Jacob Hollow, followed by the number sixteen. ¡°How many pages left?¡± I do not believe that is any kind of reliable indication of your lifespan. ¡°¡­but?¡± Not many. ¡°Do you have a book?¡± I assume so. I would not wish it found. ¡°I¡¯m glad you found mine.¡± Me too. ¡°If I did find your book, what would I see on the cover?¡± It would be purple, I¡¯m sure. I imagine it would portray crystals, perhaps the Meszrian castle. Spiders, possibly. I also like to think that you would see Zsythristria. ¡°Excellent. I¡¯ve always wanted to see that.¡± Ha. She¡¯s a unicorn. Was. We were close. ¡°And what sorts of stories would I read about in that book?¡± If you don¡¯t mind, I¡¯d rather think about the future than the past. ¡°Understandable. Hey where¡¯s that other guy? The funny one.¡± I don¡¯t care. Somewhere, unfortunately. ¡°Heh, yeah that angsty act probably gets old in a hurry in person.¡± You have no idea. Since you were directed to find Isaac, maybe the others were likewise led to the other humans. Try looking in Isaac¡¯s comm device. If it still works. More importantly, are you okay, Jacob? ¡°My hand? Really hurts.¡± I didn¡¯t mean your hand. ¡°Little disappointed.¡± Don¡¯t give up. ¡°Did you know,¡± said Jacob Hollow, ¡°that I am losing my sanity?¡± Yes. That is part of your character. I¡¯ve seen it happen. ¡°Really? Did I make it? In your story?¡± Of course not. No one did. ¡°You know what¡¯s going to happen next?¡± None of us do. It¡¯s not looking good. But please¡­ ¡°Hm?¡± Jacob Hollow looked out at the fields, the snow, the unperturbed cattle. ¡°Please what?¡± Please don¡¯t be sad. I don¡¯t¡­no, nevermind. ¡°C¡¯mon, tell me.¡± Fine. I just¡­everyone here is depressed. We¡¯re stuck with constant reminders of our failings. We can see you; we can also see one of us, one of my best friends, trapped in a doomed world. She can¡¯t talk to us; she thinks she¡¯s alone. She is alone, and she¡¯s going to die that way while we all watch. But you¡¯ve been cheerful, in a weird way. I just don¡¯t want to see you being sad about being doomed like the rest of us. And I cared about you, Jacob. When you were alive. In our story. ¡°Huh.¡± Apologies. None of that matters now. ¡°No¡­trapped in a doomed world, huh? Aren¡¯t we all, though?¡± We are working on that. Some of us. Acarnus has an idea. As usual. ¡°Right.¡± Outside of town he stopped to admire the scenery. The snow-dusted fields stretched around him, broken by the occasional fence or distant farmhouse. Calm, quiet. A strange contrast to what the sky was doing overhead. Two hawks circled up there, no doubt confused, but not yet enough to stop their hunting. What is your plan now? ¡°Dunno. Hey, why so talkative all of a sudden?¡± May I ask you a question? ¡°I don¡¯t think I can stop you.¡± You are a human, correct? ¡°Sort of. I¡¯m a construct, right? I¡¯m a character. I was made to play a role. So I guess, maybe I¡¯m whatever designed the Narrative¡¯s idea of a human?¡± That is¡­unhelpful. ¡°Best I can do. Unless you just meant biologically, in which case, yeah I¡¯m human. Why do you ask?¡± I do not understand humans. ¡°Join the club.¡± Hilarious. ¡°I don¡¯t understand your kind either. Do you?¡± I see your point. I used to think I understood people, but now... ¡°Did you have a more specific question?¡± How would one verify whether a human is¡­romantically interested? In oneself. Hypothetically. ¡°I haven¡¯t even met you. But sure. Why not?¡± I wasn¡¯t talking about you! ¡°You were.¡± Hypothetically! ¡°Fine, whatever. It¡¯s easy; you just ask.¡± Is it really that simple for you? ¡°For me, yes. People are all different. Why, is it a complex procedure among your species? Are there mating rituals?¡± Not precisely. There are songs¡­ ¡°I¡¯m not very musical. And I don¡¯t have, like, spikes or colors or whatever like you guys.¡± That is fine. The bigger issue is that Jeronimy will later be able to read anything that transpires between us. ¡°You care what that asshole thinks?¡± No. In fact, I do not. Jacob Hollow, would you be interested in entering into a deeper relationship with me? ¡°I already said ¡®why not.¡¯¡± Your enthusiasm is noted. ¡°What does this entail? I¡¯m here and you¡¯re¡­somewhere else.¡± I need someone new to talk to. Badly. We can discuss personal matters. ¡°Like what?¡± ¡­ ¡°Take your time. Relationship expert Jacob Hollow is here for you. Results guaranteed.*¡± [*nature of results not guaranteed] How did you do that? ¡°Do what?¡± What you just did? With the¡­ ¡°Oh, the footnote. Isaac taught me. He could do all kinds of stuff like that.¡± Wait, you knew Isaac? Then why did you not recognize him? ¡°He was older when I met him. Taller, a little. And he always wore that helmet. Yeah, I never saw his face.¡± Helmet? ¡°He called it a ¡®veil.¡¯ Never took it off. Not that I saw.¡± Why? ¡°Because he couldn¡¯t face God? I dunno, he was kind of unhinged when I met him, which was pretty late in the story.¡± I have to go. ¡°Something happening?¡± Just more drama, I am sure. ¡°Let¡¯s hope so.¡± She didn¡¯t reply after this. At least, he didn¡¯t think she did. ¡°Ow,¡± he said as he held up his mangled hand, wrapped up in a big knot inside a bloody sweater. ¡°This hurts.¡± At one point in his life, this pain would have been an abstraction. Now, this was not the case. He could ignore it, but¡­he really, really wanted it to stop, and a bleak fatalism assured him that it would not. The sound of a coughing, sputtering engine approaching from behind seized Jacob¡¯s attention. Yes, the panic would begin soon. Good thing he was out here in the middle of nowhere. He stopped by the roadside, near a fencepost with a sparrow perched upon it, to watch the vehicle pass. It was an ancient red pickup truck, battered and stained and now red more from rust than from the paint job. It slowed down and pulled up alongside Jacob on the road. He saw an old man within, his thick beard spilling down to the steering wheel over his expansive chest. The man squinted at Jacob. Creases wrinkled the papery skin of his face. He reached to the passenger seat, picked up a shotgun, and with both hands aimed it at Jacob.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. ¡°Saw you on main,¡± the old man said. His hands were almost absurdly huge. The shotgun looked like a child¡¯s toy in comparison. It was not a toy, however. Jacob could have told that just from the look in the man¡¯s eyes. The barrel was steady. The man hadn¡¯t asked a question, but Jacob nodded. Yes, he had been on main. Correct. Certainly he could reasonably have been seen there by this man. The man gestured down slightly with the barrel of the gun. ¡°Isaac¡¯s phone,¡± he said, his eyes never leaving Jacob¡¯s. Jacob could only maintain eye contact for a few seconds. Something about this man¡¯s gaze was eerie. Maybe it was just the fact that he had Jacob at gunpoint. Jacob looked down at the phone in his hand, still wet and a little bloody. The old man had good eyes. Jacob didn¡¯t know what to say because, again, the stranger had asked no questions. Jacob settled for nodding once more. ¡°Saw him there,¡± said the man, voice cracking but eyes hard. ¡°You do all that? You kill him?¡± Ah, here was the question. And Jacob understood that if this man didn¡¯t like the answer, then he might die here. He could still snap with his right hand; he¡¯d have to drop the phone. Would he be quick enough? And could he stop all the scatter of a shotgun with a single snap? He actually didn¡¯t know, and some deep, insane part of him wanted to try it just to find out. ¡°No,¡± Jacob said. ¡°I tried to stop him.¡± He began to hold up his left hand, the one throbbing in pain and wrapped in a bloody sweater, but then considered that this could be construed as an aggressive act. He settled for glancing meaningfully at the bundled hand. ¡°Who?¡± said the old man. Now the tip of the barrel shook slightly. ¡°Guy named Black. Abraham Black. Killed all of them. Used bullets. If it had been me, I¡¯d have kept the gun.¡± Jacob spread his arms to demonstrate his gunlessness. The old man opened his mouth but said nothing. He kept watching Jacob. ¡°Been following him,¡± Jacob continued. It no longer mattered what anyone knew. ¡°He came here to kill Isaac Milton. His angel, actually. Don¡¯t think he succeeded.¡± ¡°Angel?¡± The man¡¯s voice, gruff since he began, now contained a layer of thickness. Jacob saw water at the edges of his eyes. An eagle cried overhead. Jacob glanced up. Not the angel. The angel was gone. Hopefully to the Museum, hopefully with Isaac. ¡°A protector,¡± Jacob explained. ¡°A key. Isaac was special, see.¡± The man nodded slowly. ¡°Don¡¯t need you to tell me that.¡± He lowered the gun. The entire time, his gaze had not left Jacob¡¯s face, but now he looked back at the road. Jacob let out a breath he hadn¡¯t been aware of holding. ¡°Why¡¯d you take his phone?¡± ¡°His friends are important, too.¡± The man squinted out at the road, then up at the sky as if in calculation. He licked the front of his teeth. His guardian. ¡°What?¡± asked Jacob. I think this is his guardian. ¡°Oh,¡± he said. ¡°What was his name? Heart Man? Apparently he was¡­¡± insane, Jacob had been about to say. Insane, but also¡­he had¡­what had he done? Something incredible. But Jacob couldn¡¯t remember. The bearded man watched him warily. ¡°Going crazy,¡± Jacob explained, prior to considering how helpful this comment was likely to prove. The man grimaced, licked the front of his teeth again, and then leaned over the steering wheel to take a look through the spiderwebbed window shield at the equally cracked sky above. ¡°Same,¡± he said after a moment. This struck Jacob as amusing. Using the word ¡®same¡¯ to indicate a sympathetic condition seemed odd coming from this man. ¡®Same¡¯ was how Isaac would reply. Yeah, they had been close. A couple of crazies. ¡°Where¡¯s this Abraham now?¡± the man asked as his pickup coughed, stuttered, and died. Jacob felt comfortable enough to get closer and lean on the passenger side door. He shook his head. ¡°Dunno.¡± Two sturdy wooden walking canes leaning against the nappy yellow foam beside a horsehair hat. ¡°How¡¯d you know my name?¡± the old man asked. Now, apparently convinced that Jacob was no enemy, he fished in his pocket for a cigarette and grabbed a lighter out of the center cupholder. He did all this without taking his eyes from the sky and lit the cigarette with practiced ease. ¡°I hear voices in my head,¡± Jacob explained. The Heart Man considered this, then nodded slowly. ¡°Same,¡± he said after taking a long pull on the cigarette. Jacob could not contain his laughter. He leaned against the pickup, forgot about his left hand, and tried to use it to support himself. His laughter turned into a strangled grunt of pain as his left hand exploded in agony. Damn, it hurt. He had been a real jerk to make fun of those kids whenever they complained about pain. He hadn¡¯t known. When he looked next at the old man, he saw that the man wore a small smile, as if understanding Jacob¡¯s laughter. He reached over with one comically large hand and popped open the passenger side door. ¡°Where you headed?¡± he asked. ¡°Hospital?¡± Jacob climbed in without hesitation, shifting the shotgun out of the way. ¡°No,¡± he said, slamming the door. It fell open, so he slammed it again. He had to repeat this four times before the door remained shut, and even then it rattled loosely. ¡°Need to find the others.¡± ¡°Who?¡± Who¡¯s this asshole? ¡°You know Isaac¡¯s friends?¡± asked Jacob. For what felt like the hundredth time, he automatically tried to snap his left hand, resulting in a blinding flash of pain. He snapped his right hand instead. Light bloomed silently within the vehicle. The Heart Man nodded. ¡°He¡¯s talked about ¡®em.¡± It took some effort for him to get the vehicle started up again. He worked the gearshift for a solid ten seconds to get it in first and then pulled out onto the frozen highway. Don¡¯t you fucking ignore me! ¡°Shut up,¡± said Jacob. The Heart Man looked at him. The look was curious, not offended, but something about his presence intimidated Jacob. Yes he was huge, but Jacob had seen bigger. Something about the eyes. Jacob Hollow flinched automatically when the Heart Man looked at him, like a creature of darkness when struck by the beam of a flashlight. ¡°Not you,¡± Jacob explained. Answer my question: who the fuck is this? ¡°Go soak your head,¡± Jacob suggested. ¡°Again, not you,¡± he added for the Heart Man. The Heart Man chuckled and exhaled a cloud of smoke. Why is he so gods-damned bright? I can¡¯t see shit. ¡°Bright?¡± Like fucking¡­the sun or something. Stupendous utilization of your vocabulary. I am impressed. It was even a nearly coherent sentence. Shut the fuck up. Try swearing more. I have heard that limitations inspire creativity. What? If this were true, however, you would be an artistic genius. FUCK YOU. ¡°Can you guys take it elsewhere?¡± Jacob asked. Their banter amused him, but he wanted to focus on the old man driving the truck, and he sensed that it was perhaps rude to carry on a conversation with voices in his head when he was sitting next to someone he had just met. Besides, this man was interesting. One interesting thing was how he took Jacob¡¯s conversation with his inaudible companions in stride. He turned to the Heart Man. ¡°Sorry about that,¡± he said. The Heart Man just nodded in understanding. The truck clattered down the highway. The sky cracked overhead, and the shock resonated through their bones. A thin stream of warm air trickled from the vents in a meager attempt to heat the interior of the vehicle. ¡°So,¡± said Jacob. ¡°Why are you called the Heart Man?¡± ¡°It¡¯s Hartman,¡± he said, punctuating this with a guttural hacking cough. ¡°Dwayne Hartman. Who you talking to?¡± Jacob came very close to explaining that they were demons (or, potentially, his imagination), but stopped himself just in time. He recalled Isaac having different ideas about what angels and demons were, and reacting negatively to the idea of demons. He also recalled that Isaac¡¯s guardian was pretty much like Isaac, but more so. ¡°Like I said, going crazy,¡± he said. Which was true. ¡°But they¡¯re helpful sometimes.¡± Sometimes? Fine, whatever, shutting the fuck up. Dwayne nodded again. ¡°What happened to your hand?¡± ¡°Got shot.¡± ¡°Could get infected. Better clean it out.¡± ¡°Probably doesn¡¯t matter.¡± ¡°Why not?¡± ¡°World ending. Everyone about to die, including me. Except maybe a few people. Which is why we gotta find the rest of them.¡± Dwayne took another long pull. ¡°So this is it?¡± He looked around. ¡°Don¡¯t look like it. But what do I know?¡± Silence, for a minute. ¡°We?¡± said Dwayne Hartman. ¡°Yup,¡± said Jacob. ¡°Isaac still needs you. Don¡¯t know the details. Need to find a way to get where he¡¯s gone, though. Or else we die, and probably he dies. Again.¡± Dwayne considered this for a while. He took a long look at Isaac¡¯s hat. Then he nodded. ¡°Where to?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll check in a minute,¡± said Jacob. ¡°South for now.¡± They drove in silence for a time. Jacob noticed the writing on Dwayne Hartman¡¯s hands. He looked out at the landscape. Dwayne smoked cigarettes and left his window down to ventilate the cab. It let in a strong draft of cold air. Jacob didn¡¯t mind. Four or five cigarettes and one near-vehicular-breakdown into their journey, Dwayne spoke. ¡°Let¡¯s pray,¡± he said. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Pray. I¡¯m going to pray.¡± ¡°¡­okay.¡± Pray to God, he meant. Isaac had done that too. Jacob was curious to hear what Dwayne Hartman had to say to his creator. ¡°Father,¡± Dwayne began, ¡°forgive me¡­for my sins. Forgive me for not being there for Isaac.¡± His voice cracked; he had tears in his eyes. ¡°Take care of him for me. And whatever is going on here, well I know it¡¯s under your control. But please help me to help others, including this man, if it¡¯s possible. I love you. Amen.¡± Dwayne Hartman pulled over onto the roadside for a minute to compose himself. The truck¡¯s engine sputtered to a halt. He took a moment to get it going again and pulled back out onto the empty road. ¡°Never asked your name,¡± he said. ¡°Jacob Hollow.¡± Jacob realized that he was becoming hungry. His earlier efforts had taken a lot out of him. Thirsty, too. He¡¯d talk it out with Dwayne. They needed a plan. Right. But first¡­ He held up Isaac¡¯s phone and tried to locate the contact list. He finally pulled it up, a feat made more difficult by the fact that the phone was still sticky and had difficulty determining where on the screen Jacob was touching. It opened at the bottom of an alphabetical list, and he scrolled up until he came to a name he recognized. It didn¡¯t take long: Jimothy Whyte. The painter. He tried Jimothy first. He had never met the painter, but he had heard the stories. It was busy, or disconnected, or something. Maybe the Cascade was fooling with the signals. He tried Michael. Same result. The CHIME program could operate regardless of the Cascade, but after painstakingly navigating the CHIME app menu, he found that Michael¡¯s contact was not there. Only five others, besides Isaac himself. ¡°No luck?¡± asked Dwayne. Jacob nodded. ¡°Think it¡¯s the Cascade.¡± ¡°That the end of the world up there?¡± He gestured vaguely above. ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°Hmm,¡± said Dwayne. He continued driving, interrupted by an occasional battle with the gearshift. He hummed a tune Jacob did not know. After a minute he coughed, flicked his cigarette out the window, and said, ¡°Try again.¡± Jacob made his way back to the contact list and tried again. Still nothing. He snapped his right hand in frustration, unintentionally coloring most of the passengers-side door a dull blue. Communications are probably down. ¡°Is that you?¡± Yes. ¡°What?¡± said Dwayne. ¡°Not you,¡± said Jacob. ¡°Try again,¡± said Dwayne. ¡°I think communications are down, probably.¡± ¡°Try. Again.¡± Dwayne turned to look at Jacob, for a long enough duration that Jacob would have worried about them driving off the road, had he been able to think of anything but that burning gaze for as long as it turned in his direction. ¡°Father,¡± said Dwayne, which for a moment confused Jacob because he was sure that he was not this man¡¯s father. ¡°Allow us to check on that young man, Michael, your son.¡± Ah. His own voice in his head. Two guys here with voices in their heads. A couple of crazies. Jacob shrugged. Trying again would not hurt. He tried again, and was only half surprised when the phone on the other end started ringing. He realized, two rings in, that he had never told Dwayne who he¡¯d been trying to call. How had he known it was Michael? Maybe the voices in his head were real too. ¡°Isaac?¡± said a voice in Jacob¡¯s ear. ¡°Um. No,¡± said Jacob. ¡°Oh¡­who is this?¡± ¡°The name¡¯s Jacob Hollow.¡± ¡°Okay¡­¡± ¡°Listen, Isaac¡¯s dead.¡± ¡° What ?¡± ¡°He was shot through the neck.¡± ¡°Was¡­was it something called Black?¡± ¡°Yeah. The painter, is he your son?¡± ¡°Painter? That¡¯s my brother.¡± ¡°Yeah that makes more sense, you sound young.¡± ¡°Wait, who are you?¡± asked Michael. ¡°I just told you.¡± ¡°No, I mean, why do you have Isaac¡¯s phone?¡± ¡°I took it off of his body.¡± ¡°¡­¡± ¡°Oh, I did that because I don¡¯t have a phone of my own. I don¡¯t know anyone¡¯s number.¡± ¡°This is¡­why are you calling me?¡± Michael was audibly upset. Had he been close to Isaac? A sudden and irresistible force removed the phone from Jacob¡¯s grip. Dwayne Hartman took it and put it to his own ear. ¡°Michael? This is Dwayne. Are you and Jimothy okay?¡± He listened to something, then looked at Jacob. ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­yes, it¡¯s true¡­don¡¯t know¡­don¡¯t know¡­don¡¯t know¡­alive? Coma?...don¡¯t think so. Michael, I believe we have to meet up¡­yes. I¡¯ll leave that to you.¡± ¡°Tell him he needs to install something called CHIME onto his phone,¡± said Jacob. ¡°The painter had it. It will let him reliably communicate with us.¡± Shit, wish we¡¯d had something like that back then. Maybe we wouldn¡¯t be fucked now if we could¡¯ve all talked it out. Ha! Who am I kidding. Dwayne relayed this to Michael shortly before the connection cut out. He returned the phone to Jacob. ¡°Son,¡± he said after a moment of silence. ¡°We got a lot to talk about.¡± Jacob agreed. Above, genesis mist began to leak out from the cracks in the sky. Chapter 8 Chapter 8 Amber Jane Eddison They dried Lizzy off with paper towels from a restroom in the mall, and AJ bundled her up in her own dry jacket. AJ assembled all of her sister¡¯s hair and bound it into a ponytail. She tried to wake Lizzy up, but just as the two strangers had said, it was impossible. AJ watched the strangers as they stood over by the frontal windows of the mall. The short one, Elmer Sky, capered about with exaggerated animation while the tall woman, Amelia Shape, tried to explain something to him with an air of weary resignation. Both of them looked out and up at the tremendous and sudden storm. They had emerged from that maelstrom bearing Elizabeth, with only the most incoherent of explanations about what had happened. ¡°Vell,¡± said AJ to her unconscious sister in a thick Russian accent. ¡°Eet looks like ve are having an eenteresting day, da?¡± AJ stroked Lizzy¡¯s forehead as she watched the other two. She began flipping through the diary, or notebook, that Elmer had given her. It had Lizzy¡¯s poetry in it. She would hate having anyone read it, but sisters don¡¯t count. AJ periodically touched the phone at her side. Should she call? Would she be bothering him? And would it even go through? She hadn¡¯t been able to reach her mother. She blamed the storm. Another one of those strange cracking sounds reverberated through the mall, which was rapidly emptying of people. Cracks decorated the skylights above when she looked up. She had moved herself and Lizzy out from under them in case they broke. It actually looked a little like it wasn¡¯t the windows that were cracked, but the stormy sky above them. A weird optical illusion, for sure. But it reminded her of the painting she¡¯d found, the one by Jimothy. Her phone vibrated, and she had it at her ear almost before the first vibration had faded away. ¡°Hello?¡± ¡°AJ? This is Mike.¡± Relief flooded through her with such an unexpected force that she froze for a moment. ¡°Uh¡­yes! Verily. Mike. Doubtless. Are you guys okay?¡± ¡°Yeah, we¡¯re good for now. But Jim¡¯s asleep and he won¡¯t wake up.¡± ¡°Lizzy is similar.¡± ¡°But you¡¯re okay?¡± She heard genuine concern in his voice. He was asking if she was okay even though he was talking to her. ¡°I was worried,¡± he continued. This made her heart beat a little faster. She would have to think about this later. Later. ¡°I am endeavoring not to panic. Should I take Liz to the hospital? It¡¯s such a storm outside. Apocalyptic.¡± Thunder cracked overhead, startling those two with the funny names. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t¡­really think that will help. Listen, we might not be able to keep talking on the phone for much longer. I¡¯m kind of surprised I got through to you on only my fourth try.¡± Four tries? Only? ¡°So before we keep going, just let me say, what you need to do is get something called ¡®chime¡¯ on your phone. It¡¯s what Jim and Liz and the rest have been using. I heard that it¡¯ll keep working even after other communications fail.¡± ¡°Chime? Verily. I think Lizzy told me about that.¡± Elmer and Amelia, seeing AJ on the phone, wandered over to observe. ¡°Do you know Alan Sheppard?¡± asked Michael. ¡°I don¡¯t think so. Who is that?¡± ¡°Something weird is going on, and I think you might be involved. Stay away from October Industries. They just tried to get Jim and me, right before the, uh, the Cascade. And run away from anyone called Abraham Black. He just¡­¡± He paused, then continued in a thicker voice. ¡°Apparently¡­Isaac is dead. You remember Isaac?¡± AJ put a hand to her mouth in shock. Of course she remembered Isaac. He had intelligently discussed music with her when he was at her house. He had accompanied her, and that was a special bond. ¡°I¡¯m going to meet up with Dwayne Hartman,¡± he continued, ¡°and somebody named Jacob Hollow.¡± ¡°Meet up where? We can¡¯t just¡­¡± She trailed off as she realized that the connection had cut out. She continued to hold the phone to her ear for a moment before lowering it and meeting the curious gazes of Elmer and Amelia. ¡°Why, whoever was that?¡± exclaimed Elmer. Amelia sighed. ¡°Obviously it was her lover, Elmer. Do pay attention.¡± ¡°Ah! I see!¡± AJ suddenly felt very warm. ¡°Negative. Just¡­it was Jimothy¡¯s brother.¡± ¡°But my dear, then why are you blushing? Ah! Young love¡­¡± Amelia gazed dramatically up at the skylights above. ¡°Obviously, she does not wish to discuss it, Elmer.¡± ¡°Oh, dear! My sincerest apologies, indeed!¡± Elmer bowed low, removed a handkerchief, and dabbed sweat from his forehead. AJ blinked at them. She knew nothing about these two characters, besides the significant fact that Lizzy trusted them, but she had a difficult time imagining that they meant her, or Lizzy, or indeed anyone, any harm. ¡°Now, Jimothy¡­¡± said Amelia, tapping a finger to her cheek as she continued gazing upward. ¡°That name¡­¡± ¡°An unusual name indeed!¡± Elmer proclaimed as he stroked his moustache. ¡°And it rings upon my recollection, I daresay!¡± ¡°You know Jimothy?¡± AJ asked. ¡°Jimothy Whyte?¡± ¡°Whyte!¡± they cried together. ¡°Of course,¡± said Amelia. ¡°The painter.¡± ¡°He was like you, wasn¡¯t he?¡± asked Elmer to Amelia. ¡°He¡­what?¡± said AJ. ¡°We shall explain on the way!¡± Elmer declared. He turned on his heel and began marching toward the door. ¡°On the way?¡± AJ asked Amelia. She nodded dolefully. ¡°Didn¡¯t you say we were meeting up? The painter¡¯s brother¡­I wonder what he¡¯s like.¡± She also turned to follow Elmer, but then came back and scooped Lizzy¡¯s limp body off of the bench. She carried the sleeping form with ease, despite her slight frame. ¡°You have a vehicle, Amber Jane?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Elmer said with excitement, suddenly at hand again. ¡°Have you¡­a motorcar?¡± ¡°Verily,¡± said AJ, to the obvious delight of Elmer. ¡°You can call me AJ. But I didn¡¯t hear where to meet. Or why.¡± Amelia sighed, and it was the most overdone, theatrical sigh AJ had ever heard someone be serious about. ¡°Well. I suppose we ought to move along before those men find us. Anywhere will do.¡± She turned and moved back to the entrance. ¡°Quite so!¡± said Elmer. ¡°But¡­do you suppose we have time for a cup of tea before we depart? It would do just the trick in this kind of weather! Or that other beverage¡­what was it¡­¡± ¡°Hot chocolate,¡± said Amelia. ¡°Of course!¡± ¡°No,¡± said Amelia wearily as she gazed out into the rain. ¡°Our margin is already up.¡± She carefully deposited Lizzy in Elmer¡¯s arms and trudged to the door. ¡°Do prepare the vehicle for departure while I take care of this¡­¡± She held out her hand and a grey umbrella materialized in the air. She took it without looking and stepped out into the storm. ¡°Oh dear¡­¡± said Elmer. He watched Amelia in evident distress. ¡°What is it? And what men? Is somebody after you?¡± ¡°Well, yes, I suppose you might say so. Quite. However, and I must say I find it deeply regrettable to have to be the one to inform you of this, for after all it is a rather unpleasant and quite a shocking business, at that, and of course after all one can hardly be¡ª¡° ¡°Elmer!¡± said AJ, taking a page from the Amelia Playbook. ¡°Tell me.¡± ¡°I am afraid they are after Elizabeth as well! And they did make such a mess of your home, I fear¡­But! Not to worry! Amelia Shape ought to make short work of them! Unless of course that Black is around¡­in which case¡­perhaps we ought to ready the vehicle, as she said?¡± AJ bundled up Lizzie in the coat before hurrying with Elmer out of the mall, into the downpour. Lightning flashed to their right as they ran to the car. It flashed repeatedly, and in various colors, and with gunshots instead of thunder. AJ stopped to look. She thought she saw the scarecrow figure of Amelia at the far end of the parking lot, but she saw nothing else through the gray curtains of rain except for flashing lights. And now she heard screaming. ¡°Amber Jane!¡± called out Elmer. ¡°Which is it?¡± She ran to the car, unlocked it, and helped Elmer safely deposit Elizabeth inside. Once again, AJ¡¯s sister was soaked. This car would warm right up, but Lizzy would want some dry clothes when she awoke. AJ hopped into the driver¡¯s seat, and Elmer climbed enthusiastically into the passenger side. ¡°I say,¡± he said, ¡°you don¡¯t suppose one of these days you might let me have a crack at it?¡± He gestured at the steering wheel. ¡°Not now, of course, considering we must away. And speaking of which¡­¡± He began peering up at the sky through the windshield. ¡°Hmm¡­¡± AJ started the car, put the heat on¡­and then sat there wondering what to do. ¡°Should we wait for her?¡± she asked. ¡°Oh, she¡¯ll be along shortly,¡± Elmer assured her. ¡°But perhaps we ought to be ready to depart at that very moment!¡± AJ pulled out of her parking space and stopped, still unsure. Should she drive over to where she thought Amelia was? Had those really been gunshots? What had her sister gotten herself into? The answer was blindingly obvious when it struck her a moment later. Callie. It was strangely easy to forget, growing up with that cat, how bizarre and extraordinary it was to have an overtly supernatural entity in their home. They had simply grown used to it. They had kept Callie¡¯s true nature a secret, which was not difficult since Callie herself appeared to share that goal. No other extraordinary thing had happened in AJ¡¯s life, and no clandestine government spec-ops team had ever dropped from helicopters to reclaim their escaped experiment the way that AJ used to imagine they might. Yet it suddenly seemed obvious that something, someday, had to happen. Someone would eventually come for their stainless, immortal, teleporting pet lynx. That day had arrived, and both AJ and Lizzy had been caught completely, foolishly, off-guard. The question was: if both of the Eddison sisters were in this car, and armed men were outside evidently still searching for her, then where was Callie? She didn¡¯t realize she had been absorbed in these thoughts until Elmer tapped her on the shoulder. ¡°The doors!¡± he whispered. At the same time, someone knocked on the back window of the car. AJ checked to make sure it was Amelia, then unlocked the doors. The vehicle was a four-passenger Subaru, so Amelia¡¯s first act upon climbing in was to set Lizzy upright and buckle her in. Amelia dropped the umbrella. It disappeared at once. Something dark stained the right side of Amelia¡¯s blue shirt, and her jacket above that area had a small hole in it. AJ gasped. ¡°Were you shot ?¡± ¡°What, really?¡± Elmer exclaimed, twisting in his seat. ¡°My dear, are you all right?¡± ¡°Just drive,¡± said Amelia. ¡°I will be fine, Elmer.¡± ¡°What a relief! But how did they manage?¡±Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Misfortune alone, dear. I couldn¡¯t see all of them because of the rain.¡± ¡°Oh dear¡­¡± AJ pulled up to the entrance of the parking lot and hesitated. Left or right? Where were they even going? ¡°Not back to your house,¡± said Amelia. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but you can¡¯t return there. And there isn¡¯t much left.¡± ¡°To the left, then,¡± AJ whispered, allowing her driving instincts to kick in. Emotions boiled internally, but she suppressed them for now. Now was not the time to have a breakdown. Although she could really have used a hug from Callie. ¡°Elmer, look at this,¡± said Amelia as she reached forward with something in her palm. AJ glanced at it and saw that it was a crumpled, bloody bullet. ¡°Egads!¡± said Elmer. ¡°Is this the one that got you?¡± ¡°Mmm-hmm.¡± ¡°Amazing! We must find you some music, get you fixed up right as rain! Right as rain, Amelia! Ha! Ha!¡± ¡°That¡¯s not how it works here, Elmer. They have¡­medics?¡± ¡°Ah, but things are different now¡­¡± He pointed up. ¡°Boundaries blurred! I think some music might do the trick. You are a singer, aren¡¯t you?¡± He asked this to AJ. ¡°I believe your sister said as much.¡± ¡°She¡¯s a singer too,¡± AJ replied, still distracted by thoughts of not much of her house being left. At least their mom was out of town¡­ ¡°She¡¯s embarrassed about it though, even though she has a beautiful voice.¡± ¡°First, we need a hilltop,¡± said Amelia. AJ pulled abruptly onto the shoulder of the road and put the vehicle in park. She rested her head on the steering wheel. She breathed deeply. ¡°Oh dear!¡± said Elmer. ¡°Is something amiss with the vehicle? What inconvenient timing, I say.¡± ¡°She is just upset over losing her home, Elmer,¡± said Amelia. ¡°It is quite understandable.¡± ¡°Oh, yes! I should think we ought to have been rather upset, about losing our home, that is, if we had but remembered it of course.¡± ¡°Elmer, dear, I believe that¨C¡° ¡°Quiet!¡± shouted AJ, her hands splayed open on the steering wheel. ¡°Just¡­quiet, for a moment, please.¡± Elmer opened his mouth to say something, but Amelia reached up and stopped him with a hand on the shoulder. AJ lifted her head and dropped it once more onto the steering wheel. She needed to think. What should she do? What would Michael do? The Subaru rocked slightly in the wind, and rain pelted the roof. ¡°Amber Jane,¡± said Amelia after a moment. ¡°I don¡¯t mean to rush you, but we are in some danger. Would you like me to drive? No, Elmer, not you.¡± ¡°¡­no,¡± said AJ after a moment. ¡°I can drive.¡± She cleared her swarming thoughts and settled on a nice, simple, temporary solution: trust these two strange individuals who seemed to be on her side. A hilltop? That¡¯s what they needed? She could do that. AJ pulled back out onto the road, switching the windshield wipers to maximum speed. The torrential rainfall had worsened even in the short time she had been pulled over. ¡°I can¡¯t say about anyone else, unfortunately,¡± said Amelia in her most soothing tone, ¡°but you can be sure that your sister is quite fine. She is here, alive and well. But we must keep her that way.¡± AJ nodded. Amelia Shape and Elmer Sky, Lizzy¡¯s odd new friends, clearly had some idea of what was happening. So did Michael, for some reason. She leaned over the steering wheel and peered ahead at what she could see of the road. She had never seen a storm this bad, and probably should not be driving in it. As if to confirm this, she heard a great crash through the thunder and rain to her right. A tree had come down off the road nearby, she guessed. ¡°Goodness!¡± exclaimed Elmer. ¡°A mite blustery, I say!¡± ¡°Indeed,¡± Amelia said, back to her typical lugubrious tone. ¡°What on Ardia did you do? Call in a hurricane?¡± ¡°I was a bit non-specific, I admit. As were you, dear! You only said ¡®storm!¡¯¡± A hilltop. No need to think about what they were saying, or Lizzy in a coma, or ¡®chime,¡¯ or the fact that someone in her car had just been shot, or that the people doing the shooting were after Lizzy. A hilltop. She knew one. ¡°Best hurry, dear,¡± said Amelia, laying a hand on AJ¡¯s shoulder. ¡°I believe they¡¯re behind us.¡± Thunder overwhelmed part of her sentence, but AJ understood. ¡°I¡¯ll slow them down a moment.¡± Amelia turned around. A glance in the rearview mirror revealed headlights not far behind. A brilliant light flared behind them; AJ cried out in alarm. The Subaru shuddered in time with a peculiar ripping sound that AJ felt in her bones. Her vehicle skidded for a moment on the wet surface of the road, causing Elmer to whoop in delighted surprise. When next AJ looked, she did not see any headlights behind. There was a bare hill on the golf course, which itself was located on a rise just north of town. Would that work? ¡°A hill,¡± she said. ¡°Golf course. Will it work?¡± ¡°A what now?¡± said Elmer. ¡° Golf? Is that a type of food?¡± ¡°As long as it has a horizon on it, dear,¡± said Amelia. ¡°A clear view of the sky.¡± AJ could not think what this meant exactly, or why it mattered. In fact, she could not think a lot of things at that moment. But she thought the hill in question fit the criteria. She nodded as she turned off the main road onto the one that passed by the golf course. She still saw no headlights behind. In this rain, she doubted whoever had been following them would have any idea they had turned off the road at all. Something cracked again, not thunder but a deep resonant snap that made her cringe and bite her tongue. The pain of it snapped her back to full awareness. She paid close attention to her driving, and she swerved nearly into the ditch when another vehicle came zooming dangerously down the road in the other direction. Stupid, AJ thought. At that speed, the other car would hydroplane if it tried to hit the brakes. ¡°There,¡± she said when they came alongside a tall wire mesh fence she could hardly see through the downpour. She pointed into the rain-soaked greenish blur that was the golf course. ¡°Stop,¡± said Amelia. ¡°Oh, we¡¯re not there yet,¡± said AJ. But she stopped. She almost missed the chopping motion that Amelia made with her right hand. A flash of light, easily mistakable for lightning, illuminated them briefly from the direction of the fence. ¡°Now go,¡± Amelia continued. She sounded tired. ¡°We haven¡¯t much time. And it¡¯s rather dark here.¡± ¡°I¡¯m most terribly sorry, dear,¡± said Elmer. ¡°I am trying to lighten it up a bit, but you know how it is. I just wasn¡¯t thinking !¡± AJ saw, through a gap in the sheeting rain, that the fence separating them from the golf course lay in pieces on the carefully manicured green grass beyond. She didn¡¯t gawk. She didn¡¯t question. She slipped her car back into drive and veered right into the golf course, over the pieces of fence, and then left toward the hill she had in mind. Driving a Subaru across the fairway of hole #3 was, of course, against the rules. She didn¡¯t like this; it was disrespectful to the hardworking landscaping crew of this golf course. But then, they would have other things to worry about, like half of their trees being uprooted by the blasting wind. AJ veered around the fallen giants. Gusts blasted her car from side to side, sliding it over the soaked grass. They skidded to a halt at the bottom of a hill that was quite steep for a golf course. The green of hole #12 was up there, and it was one of the most frustrating holes in the entire course because of how easy it was to over or under-shoot. The top of the hill was only barely visible through the downpour. ¡°Will that do?¡± she asked, pointing. It was a useless gesture; the crown of the hill was invisible in the storm. Elmer took a delighted glance from the passenger side. ¡°Marvelously!¡± He popped right out of the vehicle and went back to open the door for Amelia. ¡°We had better hurry,¡± said Amelia as she unbuckled Lizzy and dragged her out into the rain. ¡°They are nearly on us again. And I am getting tired.¡± ¡°Right-o! Right, yes, quite, of course.¡± AJ turned to Amelia and remembered that the woman had just been shot. With how matter-of-factly the two of them had dealt with that detail, AJ had nearly forgotten about it. But the stain on Amelia¡¯s sky-blue shirt had grown unnervingly large. Elmer dragged the unconscious body of Lizzy from the car and struggled to carry her due to his stature. AJ stepped forward and scooped up her sister. She staggered with the weight. When had Lizzy got so heavy , anyway? AJ remembered flinging her little sister around like nothing, not so long ago. ¡°If there is anything that you need,¡± said Amelia, ¡°bring it now.¡± She waited, but Elmer had already started a slippery ascent up the hill. AJ had automatically taken her handbag already, and couldn¡¯t think what else she might need. The only thing of great importance was limp and heavy in her arms already. She shook her head. ¡°Then go,¡± said Amelia. ¡°I will join you two once you¡¯ve opened the door.¡± Door? There was no door up there. But AJ saw something approaching now, as the rain momentarily lessened from a torrent to a steady pounding. Several large, black, boxy vehicles, like humvees, tore across the course, and their headlights were all off. That detail chilled her to the bone. The lack of headlights, in this storm, triggered dire alarm bells within her, somehow even more than the fact that Amelia had been shot. Danger. Very real danger. That gave her the strength to charge up the hill after Elmer. She dug one foot after another firmly into the thick, soggy grass, thankful that she was wearing shoes with grip. Lights began flashing behind her as she climbed, accompanied by scatterings of gunfire and stranger sounds she did not know. AJ did not look. She kept going. She caught up to Elmer near the top, where the wind was fierce. He had stopped a dozen paces below the green. Nothing could be seen over the curvature of the hill but the storm-ridden sky beyond. AJ realized at last that something was amiss with the sky. It was cracked like glass. This baffled her, but it was no match for the astonishment that struck her when Elmer stepped forward, reached out a hand, and pushed a section of the sky back. It swung inward like a door, a rectangular slice of the sky directly in front of Elmer, hovering a foot and a half over the ground. Golden sunlight streamed through in a huge, solid beam, illuminating the glistening, beaming face of Elmer Sky so brightly that AJ shut her eyes against it. All the falling rain in a long, solid sunbeam behind him turned to lines of shining jewels. An explosion sounded behind her, and the ground below shook so badly that she nearly slipped back down the slope. ¡°Quickly!¡± cried Elmer. ¡°Through the¨C¡± Something bright and blue swept around AJ and Liz, enveloping them in the blink of an eye like a stiff, rubbery blanket. It jerked AJ into the air, pushed her sideways and forward. AJ screamed out of sheer confusion, holding so tightly to Lizzy that she feared hurting her but unable to stop. Then: brightness, warmth, and the soft impact of falling. ¡°Close it!¡± Amelia shouted. ¡°Yes, of course,¡± said Elmer. There was a sharp hiss and a faint ringing noise, like a distant chime. The sound of panting came from nearby, followed by a strained grunt of pain. She opened her eyes. There was no storm. Lizzy, in her arms, was soaked through, but they lay on warm, dry grass. The sky above was clear and blue with scattered clouds. The clouds distorted where they moved over the cracks in the sky. AJ left her sister on the grass and rose to her knees. Amelia knelt nearby, and Elmer was fussing over her. He was so short, and she so tall, that though he was standing she could have looked down on him by straightening up. But she was hunched over in pain, her teeth bared, hugging herself tightly. AJ¡¯s eyes went to Amelia¡¯s visible hand, clamped down on her side. Bright blood leaked through the cracks between her fingers. ¡°Amber Jane,¡± said Elmer, ¡°would you mind, perhaps¨Cthat is, if you think you could manage it¨Cor perhaps even if not, I mean¨C¡± ¡°Sing,¡± said Amelia through gritted teeth. ¡°Please. Try singing.¡± ¡°Sing what?¡± ¡°Something beautiful, dear,¡± said Elmer. ¡°Something that heals you.¡± Something that heals you. Several came to mind, and she chose one at random: Laurie¡¯s Song, by Copland. She imagined herself in a practice room¨Cno, onstage¨Cand she heard the imaginary piano accompaniment begin, and she sang. And something was different about it. Her words had weight; the notes rippled in the air with a tangible pressure. Her eyes closed, she tried to discover where this feeling came from, what it meant. She concentrated on keeping pitch, on her breathing, her rhythm, the flow and line, the diction¨Call the little things that made the music. She made the music, and the music carried her. It struck her with an emotional force that she had rarely experienced before. It moved her, and she sensed it moving others. The sensation was remarkable, but not unfamiliar. She felt this way on rare occasions when performing, but now the sensation was amplified, concentrated, distilled. It left her breathless when she at last finished. ¡°Lovely!¡± Elmer declared almost as soon as she had finished, which broke the mood somewhat. ¡°Very good, dear,¡± said Amelia. ¡°That was a great help.¡± Amelia had stood and now began straightening her jacket. She looked exhausted, but no longer tense with pain. ¡°What¡­? Are you¡­¡± ¡°I¡¯m fine, dear, or I will be, thanks to you. The effects of the breaking are still fairly weak, it seems, but the bleeding has stopped. I feel much better.¡± AJ looked at Liz next, sprawled out on the sunny grass. Then she took her first good pass at their surroundings. It was a hilltop, and a grassy one, but the rest had changed. No golf course. A partly cloudy sky overhung a hilly green landscape of verdant grasses and patchy clumps of trees. From this vantage she spotted several rural farmhouses and a small town between hills in the distance. ¡°Where have you taken us, Elmer?¡± Amelia asked. ¡°Oh, not too far,¡± said Elmer. ¡°West, somewhere.¡± West, somewhere. It did look like the Midwest. Somewhere. Distant cattle grazed beside freshly plowed fields. AJ took some time to make Lizzy comfortable. She pulled off the wet blanket and jacket and laid her out in the warm sunlight to dry. She removed Lizzy¡¯s shoes and socks. The girl had a few bruises developing, and her phone was in her pocket. AJ then sat and turned to face Amelia Shape and Elmer Sky. ¡°We have to talk,¡± she told them. Elmer seemed delighted at this prospect; Amelia sighed in resignation. Chapter 9 Chapter 9 Come with me, ladies and gentlemen who are in any wise weary of London: come with me: and those that tire at all of the world we know: for we have new worlds here. - Lord Dunsany, The Book of Wonder Hyperion, the Color Moon On pale windswept plains ringed by far horizons stood a lighthouse. No sea in sight, it towered over an expanse of faded gray grasses blown in rippling waves by the wind. Cliffs and ravines scarred the plains, edged with dry gullies and cracked coolies. Here and there a peculiar rock formation rose twisting to the sky. All of it colorless, all of it washed-out, all of it devoid of hue and tone. The sunless sky: a featureless blank slate. The air: hazy with mist and distance. The stones: pale. The dust: ashen. The trees and their leaves, the crumbling ruins, the flowers: gray and white, white and gray. Shadows crawled in this grayscale world: on the blank sky like ink spreading on wet paper, in the water like blooming jellyfish, over the lands like a creeping cancer worming blindly through unclaimed soil. Wind howled through dark ruins; gloom crept over rugged landscapes; inky seas swelled with strange tides. Clear, colorless crystals scattered the lands, as small as coins or as tall as trees. They refracted the grayscale tones of the fields, the hills, the rocky shores; they made colorless rainbows, scattering the light of unseen stars. One feature stood out, an unmoving black scrape against the scenery, a vertical gash of night on the pale shadow-wreathed moon: the lighthouse. It gave no light in the dark of night. The crystal-walled chamber at its height remained silent, still, and empty. Atop the great light chamber rested a hexagonal platform. This platform was of stained glass, arranged in a pattern of seven circles, one in the middle and six more about. The central circle was of white glass; the others were green, blue, violet, red, gold, black¡ªthe only colors on Hyperion. A symbol glinted on each glass surface, and lines connected them into a star formation. A single door stood at one edge of the platform, a door with no wall. The door was a solid dark block of stone. The door opened, the shadows of Hyperion shifted uneasily, and the Hero of Light stumbled onto the Color Moon. Sisyphus, the Garden Moon The snow, like stars, danced down from dark heights over a frozen world. It kissed the earth in still mountains; it gathered into deep drifts on hilly plains; it buried solid lakes and streams under a white blanket; it howled across icy wastelands, carried by a blasting wind. It fell, and it fell. Pale clouds churned over bright, cold skies. Fields glittered like shattered glass. Trees and bushes hung heavy, glazed with ice, and all the flowers, resplendent in their colors and limitless variety, slept under a dusting of frost. Feathery rime decorated every window; fire crackled in every hearth; every hoe and rake and every pair of pruning shears lay forgotten in the farthest cobwebbed corners of sheds and storehouses, under layers of rust and dust. Only winter here, and of course, never Christmas. The Garden Moon turned slow and bright through the aether, cold and silent and still, every grove dormant, every orchard in hibernation, every field and flower and lily-speckled sea slumbering beneath the groaning weight of winter. It waited. It had waited a long time. A flower grew on a mountaintop, bright in the day, brighter still in the night. A single flower, its bud set to bloom, frozen there in the high, cold air. It waited. Far below the flower, in the depths, stood a device. Mountain-vast, cold and still as the glaciers, forged of strange metals, it required only the impossible: to turn unceasing in defiance of natural laws. It waited. A greenhouse sprawled on a rocky mountainside. With glass walls, its emerald effulgence in the rock and ice was like a piece of another world fallen upon the mountain, or a seed of one to come. The greenhouse enclosed many climates; they spread at random, meeting unexpectedly at awkward angles, joined by odd passages and surprising stairs. Together, these biomes formed an irregular mass. At its height stood a six-sided platform with a single door. The platform was a flower, frozen like everything else out in the cold. This golden flower, encrusted with frost, spread its countless petals in lovely six-fold symmetry. These petals made footing treacherous, for they were smooth, slick, and curved. They cried out for summer. The solitary door was snow-white, with a shiny brass doorknob and a diamond pattern of fogged glass. It opened, a distant enmity set itself against a singular flower, and the Hero of Movement fell onto the Garden Moon. Pyrrhus, the Hollow Moon A city. Broken brick, cracked plaster, towers of rusted iron, tarnished steel. No wind drifted through the cool streets, disturbing the dust. No voices rose from under the flickering streetlights. Radio towers blinked on the horizons, transmitting no signals. Highways, stacked in knotted masses of calculated chaos, snaked throughout the Hollow Moon, undisturbed by any traffic. A sea of lights in the dark: regular grid of yellow streetlights, blinking red lights on towers, blue and white lights on skyscrapers for warning the planes that didn¡¯t fly, neon lights of indecipherable signs, random scatterings of lit rectangle windows in tall buildings, bright halogen searchlights crawling aimlessly over under-lit clouds, lights of buoys and far-off empty boats twitching on the waters, lights on unmoving construction cranes and lights in long curved lines denoting runway strips on empty airfields. So many lights, but no wind. No noise, no movement, not a creature stirring, not even a mouse. A dead city, a tomb, forgotten, frozen in time. What happened here? That question hung like a fog in the dead streets, on the sandy sidewalks. What happened here? Lights sparkled in still waters over a bay. Boats beyond the bay rocked gently in faint swells generated by the tidal forces of an unseen planet. Gouts of steam rose from industrial sectors. Now and then a brick would crumble to some unseen impetus, or an electrical breaker would flip, shutting down one more of the city lights. Sometimes thunder grumbled in the distance, but it never rained. Sometimes something else grumbled, something in the empty, echoey spaces beneath the streets, beneath the sewers, beneath the surface. Deep, dark, waiting. An old stone church rose above townhouses and tenements. A prodigious clock-tower loomed over the neighboring brick apartments, corner stores, dusty streets. The tower contained clockwork of a specific sort: metronomes of staggering complexity and distinct variety. Six vast metronomes towered in a circle, with one more in the middle, the white one larger than all the rest. The green and gold metronomes were ticking, ticking, chopping the passage of time into an endless series of brief, distinct segments. Their ticking was irregular, out of sync with each other, and very nearly musical. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. The platform on top was a thick iron grate, through which the metronomes below were visible, audible. A single door stood there on one edge of the hexagon, strange and solitary against the background of lights in the dimness. The door was of dark wood, identical to those far below at the foot of the church. The door opened, the crimson metronome heaved itself into action, and the Hero of Time stepped onto the Hollow Moon. Icarus, the Void Moon No moon here¡ªonly the emptiness of the aether, punctuated here and there by asteroids and small rocky debris. Most objects adrift in the space of the Void Moon were small, the size of coins, or apples, or houses. Some few of the irregular rocks were as large as lakes or mountains. They turned in the darkness of the aether, silent and somber in their clustered paths. Sometimes they collided; sometimes they caromed off of each other, ponderously altering their slow trajectories. They were barren, lifeless rock¡ªgrey, dusty, porous. They were forgotten, remnants, remainders, shadowed shapes moving blackly against the heavenly hosts of the distant empyrean. Nothing to see here. Not anymore. Nothing, that is, but the space station. It glittered with lights like a sunlit diamond in the dark, a silver mechanism, a contraption of wheels and orbs and clunky attachments. The station turned and spun, evolving into new shapes as unseen parts rotated into view. The station could have housed dozens, but no living thing stirred in those sleek, bright halls. It waited. The observation deck stood out, more prominent than any other appendage of this protean metal beast. Near its smooth bubble turned the platform. The platform was a pale crystex cube, rotating in the void, bound by an invisible containment field. This cube contained millions of miles of circuitry. It served as the physical form of a dormant artificial intelligence, unlimited in potential. A single door stood like a peculiar growth in the center of one side of the cube. It was a silver arch: a portal, a gateway, a door without doorknob, a door without physical substance. The door flickered with energy, something unknown moved among the drifting rocks, and the Hero of Space fell through into the Void Moon. Theia, the Cloud Moon Once upon a time, there was a beautiful palace. It was pink and blue and white and purple and green, and its windows were colored crystals in the shapes of butterflies and snowflakes. The floor of the great hall was marbled rainbow, and gold and silver columns twisted up into sunset-painted frescoes above. This palace had many towers, and each tower had a tall pointed roof, and at the top of each roof was a windmill. Some windmills had three arms, some had four or five or a dozen, and some had too many to count. Some of the windmills¡¯ arms looked like butterfly wings, or bird wings, or clouds, or seashells. All of them were brightly colored, and would have glittered in the sunlight, had there been any. The windmills never stopped turning, because here on the Cloud Moon the wind never stopped either. It rushed through red sandstone canyons; it crumpled the turquoise waters of highland lakes; it scattered the many-colored grasses on the high plains like chaotic swells of a sea at storm. The wind shivered and moved like a living thing through the rivers of air that hurried through the atmosphere, and it never stopped. Storm unceasing plagued the skies of the Cloud Moon. Thunderheads rolled across the lovely plains, sometimes tinted in colors of blue, pink, and gold. Colored lightning danced in the distance. Always storms, but never a rainbow. Light from above dimly illuminated the cloud cover¡ªthe stars at night or the Bright World at day¡ªbut that light never pierced the shield they made between earth and sky. The Cloud Moon was lit by a weird glow from the bruise-colored stormclouds, and by the flashing of distant lightning. Countless caterpillars crawled the surface of this windy world, and many had made themselves cocoons here and there, sheltered from the wind. But no butterflies hatched, not while the storms raged. At the heart of the world waited a chrysalis of immense size, flickers of color throughout. That which slumbered within knew how to ease the storms and the monsters, and it knew how to let the light shine again in the skies of Theia. The people of Theia, winged and beautiful, waited for one who would stop the storms. They dared not enter the palace, but they watched from their distant glass domes. No windmill decorated the tallest tower of the Cloud Palace. There was instead a broad, flat platform shaped like a snowflake made of delicate feathery crystals that caught and reflected the glinting colors of lightning. And there was a single door, shiny, bright, and colorful like everything else in the Cloud Palace. The door opened, malice grew within the storm, and the Hero of Sky danced onto the Cloud Moon. Orpheus, the Metal Moon Like a cluster of spears, like a tangle of thorns, like a gathering of sea urchins with mangled spines, the Metal Moon revolved chaotic and deadly through the dark aether. Seen from the surface of Ardia, the sight of the Metal Moon inspired a vague dread. Such a thing should not be. Whence had it come? For what purpose? The Metal Moon was a puzzle box unsolved, a prison with strange cells, a refuge for the strange, the maligned, the outcast, the freak. The Metal Moon comprised countless spines, agglomerated by gravity. Smooth and hard as steel, lighter and stronger than titanium, deep shades of violet, crimson, blue, black. These razor-sharp lances were as small as pencils or as long as the radius of the moon itself. Called lorn, they drifted against each other, pulled by odd gravities, and they rang with piercing resonance when they collided. They drifted in chaos and made a terrible cacophony. Someday, thought some of those hidden, those prisoners, those wanderers who dwelt there, someday someone would bring order to the chaos, forging music from the discord. Strange creatures called rue stalked the shifting shadows of the Metal Moon, terrorizing those who dwelt in the labyrinthine interior. Those who vanished were seldom missed. Deep in the Metal Moon lay hidden caverns and bale thorns that held memories, pains, sorrows and regrets. Many were those who ventured in, seeking release from the cares of the world. Fewer were those who returned. Deep within the Metal Moon, in among the dense tangles of lorn, a construction spread like an angular grey tumor. This unsightly structure served as headquarters for prison operations on the Metal Moon. Whose prison it was, and who the prisoners were, and why, had all long been forgotten. Such things slipped from significance in such a place as this. There must be a prison. The prison must be operated. They awaited only a commander. They waited with the promise that one was coming. Deeper in, a grim object held its own against the shifting gravitational forces of the lorn. This armillary sphere, immense in size, hovered in the center of an vast clearing. Grey and silver and gold, its many arms turned and its wheels shifted in ceaseless motion, powered by some ghastly energy within. A sickly golden light shone from within. Its ever-changing shadows flashed over the lorn around it. They called this the Bleak Machine. Six metallic hexagonal plates moved in the space around the Bleak Machine, their symbol-engraved faces turned toward the fearful mechanism. One of them had a single door in the center. The door was metal, as most doors were on the Metal Moon. The door opened, an awful voracity awoke in the deep darkness, and the Hero of Gravity strode through onto the Metal Moon. Chapter 10 Chapter 10 Elizabeth Summer is yellow and bright It is the sun in clear skies It is laziness, it is work, it is satisfaction Summer is lakes and rivers It is hot and full It is placidity It is taste and smell It is dust and wind It is sunlight and fields and empty stretches of sky and land It is fruition and enumeration Summer is joy and impatience It is things happening It is memory Fall is red and yellow and black It is the closing of a book It is shadows and wind and the moon It is ripples in water It is leaves crunching and swirling It is stealth and ambiguity, it is union, it is desperation It is sorrow and mystery and fear It is night, it is cleverness It is festivity Winter is white and grey It is fire, warmth, and comfort It is wild and cold and empty, It is security It is death and stars and slumber It is stillness and patience and waiting And all things vast and infinite Winter is fog and darkness and space It is loneliness and wastelands It is lights in the distance It is obscurity Spring is green and blue It is freshness and light It is clarity Spring is wild and fun It is air and energy It is running fast and long Spring is water and frost It is movement, it is motion It is awakening Spring is rain and life It is ideas It is the blue sky and low clouds It is friends and freedom It is music and poetry And love - Elizabeth Eddison, ¡°Seasons¡± Elizabeth had fond memories of snow. On winter days when school was out and AJ wasn¡¯t too busy with her friends, she and Elizabeth would play in the woods and fields. They built snowmen and snow forts, sledded on steep hills, played hide-and-seek with each other and with Callie, who was nearly invisible when standing still in a sunny snow-covered field. Elizabeth relished the mixed sensation of being active in the cold, sweating under layers of clothes. She loved the burning in her fingers and toes after coming inside after a hard day¡¯s adventuring. She associated that burning with comfort, because it meant hot chocolate and cozy blankets and perhaps a cheery fire dancing in their seldom-used fireplace. When Elizabeth Eddison fell through the doorframe onto the frosted golden flower, she first felt fear, for herself as well as for Jimothy. But as she took in her snowy surroundings, nostalgia gradually usurped concern. A peculiar warmth rose within her when she saw the darkness and ice around her. The snowflakes, fat and lazy as they floated down from the night sky overhead, calmed her. No rush, they said. Be still. She sat up and checked herself. Uninjured. The yellow umbrella lay half-open nearby on the strangely textured surface to which she had fallen. She reached for it, stood, and popped it open to be a shield against the snow. She zipped up her jacket, but realized that although it was nighttime and snowing, the air was not too cold. Not sub-zero, at any rate.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. She returned to the door which had slammed behind her. To her surprise, it opened easily. But she saw no Jimothy, no Hazel, no six-sided room. Just more snowy darkness. The door and its frame stood all alone, without a wall, going nowhere. Elizabeth closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She held it for a count of eight, then let it out over another count of eight. She repeated this, then did it again but counted each time to twelve, all the while turning and turning the silver ring she¡¯d received from AJ. She had to think. She had to think about this. Step by step, carefully. First, she had to find out where she was. What kind of place was this? There was light; something illuminated the falling snow in a warm glow from below the strange platform she stood upon. She would get to that in a moment. Second, Jimothy. Where had he gone? He had his own door. Was he here somewhere as well? Could she text him somehow? She would try in a moment. Third, everyone else. Were they okay? Amelia and Elmer? AJ? Kate and Eric and the rest? She needed to find out what was going on. She would check her message history for clues in a moment. She hesitated before opening her eyes. If none of this was real, how would she know? If she was Jimothy, she would use the Line. This all seemed like a crazy dream, or like one of Isaac¡¯s silly stories. She saw AJ roll her eyes and heard her voice, exasperated after her little sister Liz had asked her one too many questions: ¡°Well if you don¡¯t know, then go find out! And if you can¡¯t find out then you just have to do the best with what you have!¡± For AJ, everything was that simple. You just did the best you could with whatever you had. Elizabeth had always admired that about AJ. She didn¡¯t hesitate or become lost in speculation. She got things done. They weren¡¯t always the right things, but they were at least things done, which had always seemed to Elizabeth far better than her own nonexistent mountain of things undone, things delayed out of trepidation. AJ was right. She didn¡¯t know if any of this was real, but she had no recourse but to treat it as such. What other reasonable choice was there? Elizabeth opened her eyes. She stood on a flower, a giant frozen flower with six sides. The only thing on it was the white door. The flower was gold, flat, slippery. And huge, of course, for a flower. Likely factitious. The light rose from below. At the edge of the flower, by leaning against the rock-solid doorframe, she could observe its source: an enormous glass building, effulgent in the snowy night. It spread out below her in irregular shapes, like an assortment of glassy objects all jammed together randomly, lit from within by a cheery light. The platform on which she stood decorated the apex of this structure. She couldn¡¯t make out any interior details because all the glass was either fogged over or concealed by a layer of snow. The building illuminated the snowy hillside around it, causing trees and bushes near the perimeter to cast endless shadows into the darkness beyond. Hulking dark masses, which she took to be nearby mountains, rose in the gloom around her. She deduced that she was currently at considerable elevation on one of their slopes, because a double string of lights swept down from the brightly lit building at her feet, down and down a great distance to a cluster of lights far away, and far below. A town? Beyond this town, out in the hazy remoteness of the night, she glimpsed little pinpricks scattered through the dark. Houses. People. People no doubt huddled up warm and cozy on this snowy night. The thought comforted her. Amid the cold of winter, when half gone was the night. She twirled the umbrella, dislodging some snow which had accumulated. A ramp over on the other side of the flower led down to the building. She stepped carefully toward it over the flower and then heard a meow behind her. It was Callie¡¯s meow, deeper and throatier than any other cat Elizabeth had heard. Callie sat in the middle of the flower, holding something white in her mouth. She meowed awkwardly around the object. Elizabeth took the pale object from Callie. She brushed off the snow, turned it over in her hands and held it up to the light. It was a thin ceramic hexagon the size of her palm, divided into six triangles. Each triangle had a symbol. Two symbols glowed faintly: the flower in gold and the paintbrush in green. Herself and Jimothy. The object had a chain, like a medallion or pendant. Elizabeth looked down at Callie, who meowed again and nodded at her as if in affirmation. Elizabeth put it on. Nothing extraordinary happened. It was cold against the skin of her chest. ¡°Now is it okay for us to get in out of this cold?¡± she asked. In reply, Callie rolled over in the snow and stretched luxuriously. She¡¯d always loved snow. She was a lynx, after all. The ramp took Elizabeth down at a steep angle toward a glowing dome. It was slick with snow. Her first thought was that Jimothy would have a difficult time here. If he was here in the snow somewhere, she had to find him. She gripped the handrail with one hand, her umbrella in the other, and half-slid down to a fogged glass door. It opened easily, and a wave of warm humidity rolled over Elizabeth, releasing a cloud of glowing steam that billowed up into the snowy night. She entered quickly and closed the door behind her to keep from letting too much of the warmth out. But it was very warm here, and very humid, and full of a rich, pungent scent which she knew at once: greenhouse. This was a greenhouse. She could smell the earth, the pollen, the leaves. When her eyes adjusted to the light, she found a recreation of a tropical jungle below her. She stood on a metallic mesh catwalk encircling the dome. Stairs led down at several places, and paths cut through the dense verdancy below. It was a gardener¡¯s dream, a panoply of blossoms in every size, shape, and color. The view took her breath away for a long moment. She recalled the aerial view of this place afforded by the flower platform up there in the snow. This dome was one room out of many. She resolved to wander until she found the owner. Obviously, someone took care of this place; given its size, there was likely an entire staff. She sloughed off her jacket, closed the umbrella, and tucked both under an arm. She checked her phone as she descended from the catwalk into the jungle. No internet, no service¨Csame as in the Museum. But CHIME still worked. She tried Jimothy to no effect, then remembered someone saying he didn¡¯t have his phone. It had, apparently, been destroyed. He was here somewhere, presumably, and without a phone. How would she find him? She left the tropical chamber for a darker, cooler hall. It ran to her right and left, branching off farther down. A small directory hung on the plaster wall in front of her. To her left: Conservatories A-C, the Vegetable Garden, the Orchard, the Observatory, and Lift Station/Lobby. To her right: Conservatories: E-G, Quarters, Guest Housing, Botanical Garden, Dance Hall, Studio, Library. Dance hall? Studio? Curiosity compelled her to turn right. She kept an eye out for other people, but saw none. The hall wound past Conservatories E and F, and went straight through G. G enclosed a section of woods that could have been transplanted directly from the forest behind her house in Pennsylvania. Mossy oaks and tall maples. The path took a rustic wooden bridge over a burbling brook. She passed by the library, then returned and perused a few books. They were her books¨Csome of them exactly the same, others books she had intended to read, or books she had never heard of but which immediately piqued her interest. With increasing astonishment, she continued on to the studio (which contained punching bags and training dummies), and then the dance hall (which included various shoes in her exact size, and only in her size). By the time she arrived at Quarters, the conclusion was inescapable: this place had been prepared for her. A row of white peonies in full bloom lived in a flowerbed of dark soil just outside of a bedroom. Callie waited for her inside. Elizabeth saw that Callie had her own small bed next to the human-sized one, but Callie had nevertheless opted to recline on the bed. It wasn¡¯t her room from back home, not exactly, but it was close. It was what someone who knew her well would create for her. A room designed by AJ, for her, might look like this. Comfortable, simple, elegant. The bed looked very soft, the sheets very warm. She yawned just looking at them. A wave of exhaustion swept over her. A thick quilt, brocaded with ilex patterns, invited her to burrow beneath it and snuggle with Callie. A dark window, set above the headboard, revealed only drifting snowflakes beyond. She propped the umbrella against the wall by the door and dropped her damp jacket onto the back of a nearby chair. The door behind her had no lock. But with Callie in the room, that didn¡¯t seem important. Elizabeth almost gave way to the sudden but powerful desire to sleep. She could collapse on the bed. It would be so easy. But Jimothy might be out there somewhere. Did he have his own flower platform somewhere? Did he have his own slippery ramp to navigate? Who knew whether he had a warm greenhouse of his own, or whether he might be cold and alone in the dark? She didn¡¯t intend to write any poems about losing Jimothy. She paused long enough to grab the umbrella, then stepped back to the hall. Why the umbrella? It might snow more heavily, of course, and she might have to venture back outside. But perhaps just as much, the absence of other people in this huge greenhouse unnerved her. A closed umbrella was not much of a weapon, she knew, but it was something. And apparently she required something , because apparently her years of taekwondo training were completely useless . No, she didn¡¯t need to think like that. That man had been armored and well-trained. Of course he had no difficulty with a teenage girl. It still hurt, though. She took a different path back toward Lift Station/Lobby and resisted the urge to explore every room she passed. Not all of the conservatories were warm, and some were more dimly lit than others. She caught glimpses of many beautiful flowers, many of them species she did not recognize. It didn¡¯t take long to reach the Lift Station/Lobby. It looked like a large waiting area, white and happy, with flowers and benches to her left and right when she entered. A single window comprised the entire wall across from her, stark and black in contrast to the cheery brightness of the lobby. A massive pulley dominated the center of the room, connected to unseen machinery above and below. A white windowed capsule the size of a small bus dangled from a thick cable adjacent to the machinery. Several of these cables swept out into the snowy night through an opening in the far wall. She passed the cable car and stood at the windowed wall. The trail of red and blue lights demarcating supports for the gondola system descended in a smooth curve far down to the collection of lights she had seen earlier. It certainly looked like a settlement. She returned to the car and saw a simple console within, similar to one nearby on the lift machinery itself. Start, stop, emergency brake, speed settings, all simple enough. Only the three switches along the bottom gave her pause. They were labeled Detach, Emergency Shielding, and Terminate Lift System. A plastic lid covered the first two switches so they could not be flipped by accident. The third was embedded into the control panel and covered by a thick layer of plastic. Adjacent to it, the words ¡°Override¨CAuthorized Access Only¡± decorated a hexagonal depression in the pale metal. She knew at a glance that the pendant Callie had given her would fit. She was still alone here. No one could help her find out about this place, or about Jimothy. Maybe in the town. She stepped into the gondola; it shook slightly with her weight. Callie waited for her inside, on the seats, licking a paw. ¡°I¡¯ll probably take a nap on the way down,¡± she told Callie as she climbed into the car. ¡°Wake me up when we get close, okay?¡± It was a risk, certainly. What if the residents of that town were not friendly? But she had to make sure of Jimothy. And Callie would keep her safe. Chapter 11 Chapter 11 Jimothy Jimothy stepped through the door, tripped, and flailed at the empty air. His hand at once found something to steady himself on. When he regained his footing and looked to see what he had caught himself on, he saw nothing. Yet his hand pressed against something. Jimothy braced himself with the cane, removed his hand, saw a reddish handprint suspended in the air before him. He adjusted his grip on his cane and leaned in for a closer look. It was his own handprint. He checked the Line and saw that the handprint was not real. Nor was the floor he stood on, or anything surrounding him. Strange. It looked real. It felt real. But he knew better than to trust himself with these things. Only he and Hazel were real here. He stood on a surface of colored glass at the top of some tall building. The lack of guardrails concerned him; though he wasn¡¯t particularly afraid of heights in themselves, he was afraid of falling from them. Maybe that was the same thing. He wasn¡¯t sure. But if he fell off the edge of this place, he would have several seconds to think about it before he hit the ground. The sky around him was blank¨Cas white as a sheet of fresh canvas. No sun. A landscape composed of dull grays and whites met this sky in all directions. It looked like an unfinished sketch of a place, detailed but abandoned before coloration. It made him sad, somehow. Maybe God had started this place, but decided partway through that it wasn¡¯t worth finishing. It also made him excited, in the way that blank canvas always made him excited. He couldn¡¯t help but color in the blankness with his imagination, and he spent several minutes staring out in all directions painting the blank scene in his mind, grinning. Hazel barked behind him. The dog pranced toward Jimothy with something in his mouth. Jimothy reached out for it, but Hazel pulled away, crouched down playfully, and jogged back and forth. He had never learned that Jimothy couldn¡¯t put up a challenge when it came to take-the-toy. Jimothy stopped trying to take it from Hazel. The dog dropped the thing almost as soon as Jimothy appeared to lose interest. Hazel then reached out with a paw and nudged it closer to Jimothy, which was new behavior for him. Character development. Jimothy stooped pterodactyl-like, and would have fallen even with the aid of his cane had Hazel not appeared as a brace against his left leg. Jimothy grabbed the thing and straightened. He held an off-white hexagon, split six ways with a little picture on each slice. Two of the pictures glowed faintly in green and gold. The thing had a leather cord attached to it, but Jimothy put it in his pocket rather than around his neck. Narrow stairs, without an exterior guard or rail of any kind, wound down along the outside of the building from the edge of the platform. Jimothy looked at them dubiously. A death trap. The maroon handprint still hovered in the air above the glass, right near the door he had stumbled out of. Jimothy looked at his own hand. He reached out with his index finger and traced a thick line like a handrail, following the curve of the stairs down and out of sight. He imagined it a shade of blue in his mind. The line hung in the air when he had finished. His eyes told him that it existed in front of him, but Jimothy had no idea whether he was actually seeing it or only still imagining it. He checked the Line. It, like everything else here, was unreal. Just a dream. This gave him confidence. He took hold of the blue handrail. It was cool, smooth, anchored firmly in the air. Hazel whined behind him. Jimothy turned to look at Hazel. ¡°Photography,¡± he explained. Then he descended into the lighthouse. Below the stained-glass platform was a large glassy chamber. Jimothy knew well what lighthouses looked like on the outside, but he had no idea about the light fixture within. He thought it was maybe supposed to be some kind of giant flashlight. This was not what he found in the topmost room of the lighthouse. Instead, a big clear tube extended from the floor to the ceiling. It was empty. It rose to the stained-glass platform above, and would obviously light the glass up from below when illuminated. That would be cool. Jimothy imagined himself up there at night with all the colored light coming up from below. His own shadows would be all over himself. He imagined Elizabeth dancing on it. She would look cool dancing through a bunch of lights. He filed that away for a potential painting idea. And would it shoot up into the sky like a six-color searchlight? Yes, it would. And what about the black part of the circle? Had he ever seen black stained glass? Yes, of course he had. It didn¡¯t draw attention to itself, but it still had to be there to make everything else work. All six of the walls here were windows, so crystal clear that they provided an easy panoramic view of the exterior. At night, out there in the darkness, white light would stream from the top of this lighthouse, circling, circling, and a column of colored light would shoot up to the stars. It would be visible for miles and miles. He approached one window and drew a forest-green smiley face on it. How long would this color last? He erased it and did not question how he had done so. It seemed like something was supposed to be in that glass chamber in the center of the room. Something bright. He would keep an eye out for something to put in there. In order to not forget, he wrote it on the palm of his left hand in bright blue. This color thing could be pretty handy, he thought. Minutes later, he would realize that he had accidentally thought of a pun. ¡® Handy ,¡¯ because it had something to do with his hand. Isaac would like that one. Jimothy descended further into the lighthouse. A spiraling staircase wound along the inner wall to the bottom. It passed through five or six floors, most of them consisting of a single tall room. Sizeable gaps of empty space allowed Jimothy to see parts of the next few levels just by looking down as he descended the stairs. Walkways extended across empty space from the stairs to the floor of each level. Possibly it had been designed this way so that he could create a slide and just slide all the way down to the bottom. He swept his hand in an arc, visualizing a gently sloped pumpkin-orange slide with nice high walls so he wouldn¡¯t fall. And there it was. He stood for a moment partway down the topmost flight of stairs, gripping his cane in one hand and the yellow handrail he had made in the other. He could not decide whether to trust the slide. Hazel, who had been gleefully teleporting at random all over the interior of the lighthouse, solved it for Jimothy by testing it out. He appeared at the top and then sat with sudden dignity as he began a smooth descent to the next floor. When the slide curved, Hazel looked back up at Jimothy as though to confirm that it was safe. Jimothy stepped in with care, and at once fell because he had forgotten to add texture to the slide, and it was, therefore, slippery. He slid all the way to the bottom, gaining confidence as he went that the slide would not vanish. One floor was empty. One contained a lot of couches and comfy chairs around a few tables. One (the topmost) housed a collection of painting supplies: canvas, easels, shelves and shelves of paints, brushes, blades, glazes. One of them toward the bottom had compartmentalized areas: a bedroom, a bathroom, a little doghouse for Hazel. Jimothy understood this to be his personal place. It looked nice and cozy. All the floors came with clear, thick windows which let in the colorless light from outside. The ground floor was the tallest area, probably thirty feet high, and noticeably wider than the uppermost floors. The stone here, like in the rest of the lighthouse, was dark gray, but like everywhere else, beams of light cut through the gloom from tall windows. Jimothy noticed at once that these beams of light came down at all different angles. Where was the light coming from? There was no sun outside. In the center of the ground floor lay a small hexagonal pool of water, level with the stone floor. A chunk of clear crystal floated in the center. This crystal was roughly the size of a plastic water bottle, with hard, flat edges. It pulsed with a faint light, glittering on the still water. Jimothy leaned way over and risked falling into the pool, but he could just barely not reach it. After some thought, he created a simple pincer out of two blades of colored light. Saffron. He grabbed the pincer out of the air and tried opening and closing it a few times. He reached out with the long pincers and after a few attempts, one of which knocked the crystal onto its side, picked it up. Faint ripples from this action creased the surface of the pool. He held it up to a beam of light that slanted through the gloom. The crystal refracted a scattering of rainbows that twitched with every minute movement. The abrupt beauty of it, a sudden rainbow brilliance in the gloomy chamber, transfixed Jimothy. But after a moment, he got the sense that something was amiss. He had always taken special notice of how light looked and worked. This crystal reflected more light than it should have. Even when he removed it into shadow, it reflected illumination from an unseen source, and faint rainbows still danced around him. It didn¡¯t make sense, but that was fine with Jimothy. It was still beautiful. He took it with him as he explored the bottom floor of the lighthouse. The stone floor was barren and cold, the walls unadorned, and a single door opened outside. It had a thick wooden board laid across some bars for a lock. He tried lifting the board, but it was far too heavy. He puzzled over this for a while, then created a plane of cerulean light under the board and raised it up in his imagination. The board rose easily, but tipped toward him once it was free of its holdings. Jimothy cried out in surprise and stumbled back as the board fell. Hazel came out of nowhere and tackled the board in mid-air. They both disappeared. A heavy, hollow thud reverberated through the floor from behind him. He didn¡¯t need to turn around to know that it came from the board falling. ¡°Thanks, Hazel!¡± He tried to pet Hazel as the exuberant dog ran circles around him. He noticed now that Hazel did not have bad breath. Did angels need to eat? He hoped so. Otherwise it might be sad for them if there was good food around. He knew he would be sad in that situation. Did Callie have to eat? He should ask Elizabeth. He checked all of his pockets before remembering for probably the thirtieth time that his phone was most likely destroyed in a fire. It was only him and Hazel in this lighthouse, as far as he had seen. Up at the top he had seen nothing but wilderness outside. No other people, and certainly not his friends. Was he alone again? He hated being alone. It was scary being alone in a strange place. Hazel nuzzled him under the arm as if to remind him that he wasn¡¯t all alone. Or maybe Hazel just wanted to be pet. That was more likely. Jimothy made a chair for himself out of white almost without thinking about it and sat down on it to consider. After some time, he decided that probably what he should do was wait for the others. He could go out and explore, and he intended to do that, but Elizabeth had also gone through a door, right? She must be around here somewhere. And if she was, then maybe Kate and Isaac and Eric and even Heidi were too. Jimothy knew that if Isaac and Eric and Kate and Elizabeth and even Heidi were around, then they would be sure to find him eventually, because they were his good friends and they would all want to make sure he was okay. But he did want to go outside and see what was out there. He stood up from the chair, and it disappeared. He turned to the heavy wooden door, put his hand to it, and then heard a small splash from behind him. Hazel growled at something in the direction of the pool. Jimothy felt a ripple of fear, but he looked at the pool anyway. The water, which had before been still as glass, quivered. It looked like something was shaking the water, but Jimothy felt no vibrations. Strange! He kept his distance. The pool, partly lit by narrowly slanted light from the tall windows, showed no signs of disturbance apart from the water. Ripples emanated from the edge and converged into a tiny maelstrom in the center where the crystal had been. Jimothy looked at Hazel for clues about how to react to this. Hazel, head lowered, fangs bared, glowered at the pool in suspicion. A wave splashed over the edge of the pool. The water spread strangely on the floor, making a pattern. After this, all was still. Jimothy looked at the wet shape on the floor. He walked all around it, but could not make sense of it. A picture? A complex word in an unknown language? The crystal in his hand pulsed softly with a warm light as he abandoned this inquiry and returned to the door. He decided to remember that shape, just in case. He made it appear in a cool aquamarine color on the floor nearby so it would still be there after the water dried. The heavy door swung open easily when he pushed it. Open, it looked like a square portal into a gray world. He put the crystal in his pocket, stepped through, and with the help of a temporary handrail, descended five broad steps one-by-one to a path of pale dirt. Hazel, who had zoomed out the door like a white rocket as soon as it was open, ran back and forth in the grasses ahead, teleporting at random. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Jimothy stood at the foot of the lighthouse, which rose like a monolith behind him, intensely dark against a pale, colorless sky. Flat plains stretched ahead, rising into hills in the far distance. The horizon where colorless sky met colorless land was hazy and indistinct. The path before him, flat and dusty and wide enough for several people to walk side-by-side, ran to his right and left. To the left, scatterings of pale trees scratched the blank sky maybe a mile off. Jimothy knew by remembering the view from the top of the lighthouse that hilly woodlands lay that way. Flat grasslands and empty sky extended to his right, punctuated by occasional rock formations like twisted little replicas of his own lighthouse, but blank and empty of color like everything else. He decided to go this way. He noticed, not far from the lighthouse, that he did not appear to have a shadow. Nor, upon inspection, did the lighthouse. He found no sun anywhere in the sky above, so he guessed that made sense, but he soon discovered that there was something unnerving about not having a shadow. The colorlessness of his surroundings oppressed him further every minute that he proceeded down the path. It looked so wrong. Forgotten. Sad. Empty. Unfinished. Lost. Even¡­dangerous? Yes, because it was clearly incomplete, and unfinished things were even worse than broken things. Michael had told Jimothy once that with people, things were never black and white. It was all shades of gray. Jimothy had said that was wrong; shades of gray weren¡¯t different and beautiful enough. But one time Jimothy had seen a person who did look gray to him, always the same, always small and sad and quiet, and he¡¯d told Michael and Michael had said that this person probably wasn¡¯t having a good time. Not having a good time all the time? Jim had asked. Michael had explained what depression was, and Jim had lain in bed all night thinking about it, and the next week he painted a painting for the person even though he didn¡¯t really know her. Then he had given it to Mike to take it to her, and it made Mike cry and he told Jim that the person had gone away, but he¡¯d take the painting anyway, and this, as far as Jim knew, was the only painting Michael had not photographed. Jimothy remembered trying to imagine seeing the world in gray. It had been sad and empty. It made him think that his friends and the people who loved him were like colors painted on his life, and without them, alone, everything would be gray. Jimothy liked the fact that during the Banana Quest they had each picked a color and kept using it even afterward. But this place was the opposite of that. In this place, he didn¡¯t have to imagine a colorless world. In this place, his friends were missing. He walked for a while. The trail became rough. It wound around some of the cool rock formations, which looked like crumbly sandstone, and it passed by simple wooden bridges over the occasional steep gully or crack that cut through the plains. At one point, he tripped and put up his arms to shield himself from the fall. His fall stopped, and he realized that once more he had caught himself from falling by creating something for his hands to steady himself on, without thinking about it. This time it was the outline of his arms in navy blue. Seeing the blue was a shock. Just like getting used to grayscale in an old black and white film like Buster Keaton, he had forgotten that colors existed here. He looked at his hands and saw the innate color there. He looked back at the blue imprint in the air and thought about it dissolving. It dissipated into nothing. With the tip of his cane, Jimothy tapped the ground and concentrated on imagining a swirl of color spiraling out on the dusty path. This happened in his eyes just as it did in his mind, and vibrant colors bloomed out on the path like drops of watercolor on a wet surface. The colors seemed luridly bright and vibrant against all the pale grayness, so he desaturated them to a chalky pastel. The colors remained even after he ceased concentrating. With the tip of his cane, he stirred the dust. All of it, even the dirt underneath, had changed colors. He continued more slowly after this, stopping now and then to colorize things: a rock here, a clump of grass there, an angular chain of color across the path. He discovered that he could remove color as well, resetting things to their original blandness. Complicated patterns and effects like smooth gradients required greater concentration. He did not have to actually touch something to change its color, but it was harder to do at a distance. He discovered that he had limits: when he passed under a natural stone arch that twisted over the road, he tried to make it all sky-blue but could only change a small part of it. He became absorbed in the activity of coloring things, and in the joy of discovering what he could do here in this dream. It made him forget the strange melancholy and loneliness of this place. It took him a while to notice the shadows. They built up around the edges of things, in corners and cracks. They seeped and creeped in odd clumps and in strange directions. When Jimothy did at last notice, he looked up in surprise at a changed landscape. It was partially in darkness, as though the unseen source of light was fading. What had been a flat gray scene had shifted into high contrast. Dark shadows skewed out at weird angles from the twisted rock formations, they pooled in the ravines and crevices like a liquid, and they crawled across the sky like drops of ink folding out into murky water. Jimothy spent some time examining the shadows. He could tell at once that they were incorrect. The angles were at-odds, and they moved and shifted with a life of their own. The longer he watched, the more the shadows unsettled him. Something about the way they moved. They twitched as though struggling with increasing strength as time passed, and they tended to writhe in his direction. He saw with surprise that he had come a fair distance from his lighthouse. If night was falling here, he wanted to get back there before it did. The thought of being caught out here among the shadows once they had gathered and increased made his heart pound a little faster. He saw the spots and scatterings of color he had left along the path he had traversed, like rainbow blood from a monster¡¯s wound. He began retracing his steps. More and more he tried to look around him as he walked, which for him was a dangerous maneuver. But the shadows grew, and so did the sense of being watched. By the time he had made it a third of the way back, he thought he could safely say that night had fallen. Darkness had taken most of the sky over, and shadows shrouded everything below. It wasn¡¯t so much that the light had faded; it was more as if an opposite force had steadily overwhelmed it. Here he discovered that besides creating color, he could also make light. This discovery pleased him so much that he stood for a minute enveloped in a pyrotechnic display of his own design. He could create light in any color, but settled at last on warm white light because it made him think of Hazel. He caused it to emanate from the top of his cane, kind-of like the Dark Man. Hazel, who had been keeping close to Jimothy and eyeing the darkness warily as it grew, seemed pleased with the light. Hazel was immune to the shadows. No matter where he went, Jimothy could see him clearly as if he was glowing in the dark. Jimothy was not immune. He had a shadow, and when he held the light in front of him, he thought he could feel his own shadow stirring behind. It gave him shivers. When he turned around as fast as he could, his shadow lingered for a moment before swinging reluctantly around to where it belonged. The sky became dark enough that he could no longer see the lighthouse except for a few faint specks from interior lights. He stopped to count them, and that was when he heard something rushing through the grass to his right. Hazel heard it as well and crouched, growling in that direction. Jimothy clutched at his cane and nearly fell over with fright. He gazed wide-eyed into the shadows where he had heard the sound, but the light from his cane extended only a few paces. He could do better than that, right? Jimothy concentrated, and then squinted as light surged from the tip of his cane, illuminating an area several times larger than before. He held the light aside so it would not blind him and looked out into the field. Small dark shapes fled from the light in quick bounds. A faint hissing, snarling sounded from beyond the light. One small creature stopped at the far edge of the illuminated area and turned to look at Jimothy. Its slanted eyes reflected the light. Instead of disappearing into the dark, it slowly crept along the border of Jimothy¡¯s light like a shark circling its prey. It kept its horrible shining eyes fixed on Jimothy. Jimothy whimpered in fear. It had been a mistake to leave the lighthouse. Jimothy watched as another creeping figure joined the first, circling along the edge of the light, watching him. He bit his lip and concentrated to try to make the light reach them. The illumination from his cane narrowed into a flashlight-thin beam, blasting the two figures with intense brightness. They screeched and vanished. But this left everything else around Jimothy in darkness again, so he desperately centralized the light. He turned back to the path and there they were, several more crouching figures skittering away. Jimothy swallowed and wished with all his heart that Michael was here. Michael or Isaac or Eric or anyone. He didn¡¯t want to be alone here in the dark with monsters. He closed his eyes and saw the Line. Not real. Nothing here was real. A dream. But it felt real. It all felt very real. And maybe it was the kind of dream that he could get hurt in. He stood still on the path, in the middle of a circle of light as though some spotlight shone down from the heavens. But his shadow stretched out away from the light, and Jimothy turned the cane back and forth, making his shadow dance so that those creatures out in the darkness could not use his own shadow as a path to reach him. He tried to think, to block out the shapes moving and shuffling at the edge of the light, creeping closer. What would¡­anyone else do? He thought the lighthouse was safe. He had to get to the lighthouse. But it was so far away! And he couldn¡¯t even see it anymore, except for just a few barely visible pinpricks of light up in the darkness. If only it had some really bright light at the top, like a¡­like a lighthouse. Then he would be able to see it. Then it would be a beacon of safety in this terrible night. He remembered the crystal, its angularity awkward in his pocket. It buzzed with a strange warmth when he touched it, it scattered its radiance all over Jimothy when he drew it out. Horrible cries of pain and fear resounded around him as the monsters in the darkness scurried away to escape the sudden brilliance of the crystal. Jimothy held it up to the darkness where he knew the lighthouse stood, and imagined this crystal, or maybe a bunch of them, in that topmost room. ¡°Oh,¡± he said. He resolved, if he lived through this night, to find more of these crystals and store them in the lighthouse. First, he had to get back. Step by step, the shining crystal held aloft, he made his way back down the path. He nearly fell several times. He did fall once. But although the shadows writhed and shapes scurried in the darkness, they did not approach the light of the crystal. When Jimothy made it shine, it shone as brightly as a small sun. Jimothy felt as though he had walked all night by the time he made it to the lighthouse. His legs shook, his arm trembled from the effort of raising the crystal overhead, and his mind was numb from being afraid and alone in the dark. One time, near the end, a large and bold creature of the shadows had leaped out at him like a huge gorilla, and Jimothy in a panic had imagined brilliant streaks of light scouring the thing from existence, which is what happened. This, in its own way, scared Jimothy more than the monsters themselves. Once inside the lighthouse, all things seemed well. The pool of water lay still. The interior of the lighthouse was dark, but with the crystal Jimothy could illuminate the entire room. He double-checked the pool, but saw nothing unusual. For a while, he stood in front of the pool and watched the reflections of himself and the crystal in the water. Here he discovered that he could channel different colors through the crystal. Whenever he did, the faint vibrations in the crystal changed. He randomly settled on a golden orange as he went to the stairs and began a slow ascent up to the floor of the lighthouse with his room on it. name? Step by step, up the stairs. He was tired. He should try not to go out at night again. Not alone. hello Hazel waited for him at the top of each flight of stairs. He looked pretty tuckered out as well. Jimothy made it up to the third floor, the one which had a bedroom and bathroom and kitchen and stuff in it. It had lights too. He turned them on, all the ones he could find. They made shadows, but normal shadows that stayed still, not like the ones outside. hear me Jimothy started to put the crystal back in his pocket, but hesitated. It might be nice to have it around. But on the other hand¡­ ? On the other hand¡­what if someone else was out there in the darkness? What if someone else needed a lighthouse? It was his lighthouse; he was pretty sure. That made him responsible for it. Did that make it his fault if someone got hurt out there because they couldn¡¯t see it? need to know He needed to know. Wait, what did he need to know? Um, probably, he needed to know whether there were any people out there. Or maybe, whether putting the crystal up at the top would do any good. if you can hear me Now if they could hear it¡­wait, hear a lighthouse? Who hears a lighthouse? Jimothy kind-of liked the idea of that, but it probably wouldn¡¯t work as well as a normal lighthouse. Jimothy Jimothy. Yes, that was his name. What? He shook his head. He was really getting tired. But he couldn¡¯t leave people out in the dark. He turned and headed back up the stairs. He could slide back down, after all. ¡°Come on, Hazel,¡± he said. ¡°A little more.¡± Hazel looked like he was intently listening to something only he could hear. He did that all the time. keep hold Jimothy made it to the top room and at once ran into trouble figuring out how to open the case. He searched all around, and at last tried simply touching the glass case with the crystal do not let go He thought maybe he shouldn¡¯t let go, but it was too late. The glass case pulled the crystal through. Inside, it drifted to the center of the container and rotated there, pulsing with an inner light. Yes, he thought he understood what needed to be done. He also thought that, maybe, he should have kept holding on to the crystal. He didn¡¯t know why he thought that. He wanted to remain awake in case other people came in from that horrible darkness, but he had to sleep now. He slid down to his floor, closed the door to his bedroom and collapsed onto his bed. He fell asleep hugging Hazel, who curled up next to him. Chapter 12 Chapter 12 Isaac Isaac Milton took his time comprehending his surroundings. He was curious, yes, but the moment he left Kate behind and stepped through the portal, he came under the conviction that there was no hurry. Everything seemed chill. He thought he could really savor this moment. Maybe it was the low gravity. That was the first thing he noticed when he stepped through the portal. He felt light. He bounced on the balls of his feet and drifted up as though he had jumped. ¡°Whoa,¡± he said, though this did not do justice to the elation that surged through his veins at the new experience. The sensation was much, much cooler than the simple lack of gravity he¡¯d experienced earlier with Kate. That was just falling. Anybody on Earth could fall. But minimal gravity¡­how many people got to experience that? Stars and darkness surrounded him. Many stars, bright and steady, in shades of pink, turquoise, green, all colors, like the glittering dust of crushed gemstones flung throughout the sky. He recognized no constellation, nor did he perceive a galactic plane. He studied these stars for a few minutes, possessed by the idea that recognizing a few patterns or constellations would be important somehow, perhaps for navigation? The scarcity of distinctly bright stars made it difficult. The apparent magnitude of all these stars looked pretty much equal. If anything, one entire side of the sky housed slightly dimmer stars, although this might have been due to the planet in that direction, and the distant pale sun off to the right of it. The planet, earth-like with its greens and browns and blues, partly obscured by cloud, filled a significant portion of the view in that direction. It was the size of a soccer ball held at arm¡¯s length. Isaac knew this to be strange somehow. It took him a moment to identify the strangeness of it: the planet was too near for him to be viewing it from a moon, yet much too distant for him to be seeing it from any kind of orbital satellite. Therefore, in accordance with the logical procession of curiosity, he looked down from the sky at that on which he stood. It was a whitish platform, twenty feet square, engraved with the shape of a simple cube. The silvery hi-tech arch through which he had stepped gleamed in the center, now dormant. The surface of the platform looked strange, so he fell over in order to inspect it more closely. He fell facedown and drifted like a leaf until he stopped his fall easily with one hand. He amused himself for a minute by cranking out a few one-handed push-ups. The pearly surface beneath him resembled a circuit-board, the mazelike channels extraordinarily small. He could feel the minute texture by running his fingers over it. ¡°What do you think, Charlie?¡± he asked. With a shove against the surface, he propelled himself upward with enough force to bring him back to his feet. He didn¡¯t even overshoot. A natural! Objects arose into view from the other side of the platform. He saw a cluster of antennae and a photovoltaic solar array, just like on the ISS. ¡°Satellite it is, I guess,¡± he said to Charlie, who preened with disinterest in hawk form. Isaac took another look at the planet. Way too far for them to be in orbit around it, right? Unless it was, like, very small? ¡°A mystery!¡± he proclaimed, striking a single finger up into the air. He looked around at the void as he lowered his finger. Kate loved mysteries and could probably figure this one out in a snap. He looked back at the door. He¡¯d go back and find her in a minute. First, he had to check this place out. A large and complex space station sprawled over the edge of the platform, more along the lines of Star Wars than NASA. But he recognized many elements nevertheless, such as docking hatches, thrusters, and long manipulator arms. And, um, defensive turrets. The platform he stood on had more than one side. He walked all the way around the edge and decided that he was on top of a cube. It gradually rotated at a skewed angle. Eventually, the surface he stood upon would end up facing the planet, and then the station below. He would either fall off or be upside down in some kind of tiny little gravitational field around the cube. Next: how to get down? He put this question to Charlie and, as would become common over the next few days, the bird showed him what to do. Charlie did it by stalking over to the edge of the platform and then walking right off the edge. The bird proceeded down the perpendicular face without falling. Isaac reached for his hat, hesitated, then took off a shoe instead. He dropped it over the edge. It fell until it came level with the vertical face of the cube, at which point it tumbled to a halt against the perpendicular face. Cool. Isaac jumped off the edge. The moment he fell past the edge, gravity shifted and pulled him gently to the surface of the side of the cube. This side had no door. It did have a simple, large picture of a heart etched into it. He circumnavigated the cube, practicing stepping over the edges to maintain relative uprightness. Mistakes hardly mattered because gravity was forgiving. Isaac thought all he would have to do to break the gravitational field completely was to put some effort into a jump. It hovered unsupported in the air near the space station. It was clearly supposed to be there; several large prongs jutted toward the cube from various angles, presumably keeping it in place. The whole cube¡¯s surface appeared to be covered in tiny circuitry, and each side had a symbol¨Cthe same ones he¡¯d seen on the hexagon. He stopped on the snowflake. This one was Kate. It looked no different from the rest, and he didn¡¯t see her anywhere. No door. What had her door looked like? Colorful, right? Charlie came up to him, swooping easily through the air, as Isaac prepared to venture through the obvious entry hatch into the station. The bird, mysteriously mobile in low gravity, still had a hawk-like appearance, and offered Isaac something in its beak. A coaster, it looked like, for coffee mugs and the like. Hexagonal. ¡°Aww, thanks,¡± he said to Charlie. He took the thing and stuffed it in his pocket. Good thing Charlie had picked that up! Space debris was dangerous. How had a coaster even gotten out here? Isaac visualized two astronauts in full space-suits sitting at a zero-g table out in space, clinking mugs and then splashing the liquid against their opaque visors. But wait. He wasn¡¯t wearing a space suit, and he could breathe just fine. Funny what one overlooked when it was normally taken for granted. He smelled the air. It had a clean, vaguely chemical scent to it. Processed air. Sterilized air. Perhaps, Air of Synthetic Manufacture. There must be an invisible containment field around the cube which maintained breathable air. That would make a lot of sense, since people might come in from who-knows-where just as Isaac had. He wondered how many random visitors this station received. Who operated this station? Were they even¡­human? He shivered. Excitement. Various portals and windows dotted the station, all dark. Lights blinked on sensors and antennae, but no actual light seemed on within the station itself. Nighttime? Abandoned? Crew murderized by an alien monster? He glanced out again at the darkness of space and saw, for the first time, debris illuminated by the planet and the distant sun. Asteroids? It seemed dangerous to have a space station in the proximity of asteroids. Thus, perhaps, the turrets. Something moved among the far debris as he speculated on this mystery. He saw it only for a moment, but its movement burned a purple afterimage into his vision. He had seen it clearly, if only for a flash: a winged beast had swept from place to place out there in the star-speckled emptiness. Had it been white? It had been very, very bright, whatever it was, but something about that was wrong. The sight of it had left an afterimage, but had not hurt his dark-adjusted eyes. Isaac kept an eye in that direction as he positioned himself on the cube and launched himself with a strong jump toward the hatch. His jump had been a bit too strong; he approached the hatch headfirst at considerable speed rather than the intended casual drift. He twisted his body to receive the impact on his legs just in time. But the impact never came. The hatch opened and Isaac fell into a warm blue darkness. His momentum ceased, the hatch closed overhead, and he drifted lightly to the surface below. Gravitational brakes of some kind? Cool, cool. A door hissed open in front of him, and he stepped through into a dim corridor illuminated by myriad distant lights, like a tunnel of stars. White lights flickered on as soon as he set foot in the cylindrical hall, flashing down into the distance. Everything bright, sleek, shiny, clean. A screen on the wall beside him came to life. ¡° Welcome ,¡± it read in a digitized font. This faded, and several options replaced it: Directory, Services, Communication, Systems, ARKO. The last two were locked except to authorized access. A sensor pad below illustrated where an access card or something might go. ¡°Very nice,¡± he informed Charlie. He began with the directory. It took him about an hour to explore all the parts of this station¨Call the parts, at least, which were not barred to him for lack of admin status. It took him less time than this to figure out that he was alone. It took him more time than this to figure out that he did actually possess admin status after all, courtesy of the ceramic coffee coaster. Shortly after he made this discovery, Isaac Milton realized that he was in a story, and that he was one of the main characters, as evidenced by the fact that this space station, which he had never seen before, nevertheless clearly, undeniably, and entirely, belonged to him. Communications were down, and he¡¯d have to do something about that, somehow, but surprisingly, CHIME still worked here. He tried a message to Kate. IM: Hey KC: hey Isaac! IM: Are you in space? KC: we¡¯re all in space Isaac. KC: EVERYTHING is! KC: *duh* KC: you of all of us should know about SPACE KC: ;) IM: Is that like my thing? If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. IM: Is that why I get a cube? IM: Will I get space powers? IM: Or, like, cube powers KC: wow Isaac! KC: pretty sharp KC: ;) IM: Cubes aren¡¯t that sharp KC: .......... IM: .... KC: was that a joke? IM: No KC: LAAAAME KC: BAD JOKE ALERT!!! IM: Bad joke alert?!?!? IM: *dives for cover* KC: it¡¯s too late!! KC: it¡¯s got you Isaac! KC: :o IM: aargh!!! IM: I am crushed in its icy grip! KC: 8o IM: hang on KC: Isaac you can¡¯t just pause when you¡¯re in the middle of being crushed in the icy grip of one of your own bad jokes! KC: I wonder if that is a thing that can actually happen here KC: ?:\ KC: hello? IM: Man you¡¯re fast at texting KC: I¡¯m using a computer IM: Oh cool IM: I wonder where I can get one KC: aren¡¯t you on a space station? IM: Yeah IM: The Void Station KC: ... IM: Oh IM: Yeah I guess there¡¯s a few computers here IM: What is your station? KC: I don¡¯t have a station! I¡¯m just down here on my moon like a boring plebian KC: BUT MY PALACE IS AWESOME IM: Whoa, palace? IM: Okay, I get it IM: We have themes IM: Mine is space so I get a space station IM: What is yours? KC: sky, I think? KC: I don¡¯t know what that means though KC: have you seen your moon yet? IM: My moon KC: yeah, dummy! KC: you need to check out your moon! KC: I bet it¡¯s full of nerds and pianos and dice with an unusual number of sides ;) IM: Well I haven¡¯t seen any moon IM: Wait I get a moon? IM: Do YOU have a moon? KC: geez Isaac! get with the program! KC: eheheh! KC: my moon is called the Cloud Moon KC: it has a name, and the name is Theia I think KC: why are you talking to me when you could be exploring your moon?!?!? IM: All right, all right! KC: wait KC: why am I talking to YOU when I could be exploring MY moon? KC: ?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!? KC: i¡¯m outta here! A moon? Isaac had been sitting in a squishy white chair, like a beanbag, which faced a huge bubble-window. This window provided him with a view of the stars, the blue-green planet, and the strangely pale sun beyond. The sun was dim enough to look at without damaging his eyes. More like a really bright star. Duh. ¡°Computer?¡± he said out loud. ¡°Uh, Void Station? Can you hear me?¡± It was a little awkward speaking to an empty room. Even though he was pretty sure by now that no one was here but himself, this was a strange place. He stood and approached the window. Yes, he saw something out there now. Other moons, perhaps, to either side of the planet. Other moons? Where was his moon? He hadn¡¯t seen one. He traced his steps back to the observatory. This was the big domed room with telescopes. The interesting thing about this place was that there appeared to be no barrier between its contents and the void of space, much like on the floating cube. The better for viewing, he supposed. It also came with complex instructions on how to reconfigure its positioning onboard the station. He didn¡¯t need to bother with that; its positioning already gave it a clear shot at the planet. Some telescopes needed to be activated or powered on somehow, but with trial and error he managed to get a simple reflector telescope pointed in the right direction. First, he looked at the planet. Nothing too interesting down there, not with the limited zoom on this telescope. It looked like a more colorful Earth, lit from the side by the sun. A large circular shadow darkened part of the sunlit side of the planet. He followed that direction until he found the object casting the shadow, a gray moon. He swung the view around to the other side of the planet and soon located another moon, also gray, but this time because of cloud cover. The moons orbited unusually near to the planet, and perhaps more strangely, in the same orbital path. In his orbital path, in fact. Hard to tell just by eyeballing it, though. Something fell behind him, startling him. A remote of some kind lay on the floor, apparently fallen from the command console in the center of the room. He suspected Charlie, but the bird had disappeared a while back and not yet returned. Another Intriguing Mystery. He picked up the remote, and a voice whispered in his head when he did so: config¡­ ¡°What?¡± he asked the empty room, just in case that would be any help at all. Config? Configure? He at once doubted whether he had actually heard something, or whether it had been his own imagination. He turned over the remote in his hands. It corresponded to one of the telescopes, but he needed to figure out how to turn them on first. This whole place seemed to be running on reserve power at the moment. Plus, if he knew anything about super-advanced space stations, there was probably a helpful AI somewhere. Isaac wandered around looking for the control center until Charlie found him and led him there. He considered that one of his first projects might be to get those defensive weapons online. That huge bird-like creature he had glimpsed among the asteroids had not strayed far from his mind. But first, and he was ashamed for not thinking of it sooner, he had to pray. But¡­what to pray? How to christen a space station? What would Dwayne Hartman do? The thought of Dwayne here made Isaac laugh. But he thought he knew, regardless, what Dwayne Hartman would do. He would take up his authority as a priest, for such he believed all Christians to be, and he would consecrate the Void Station as holy to the Lord. He would do it boldly, calling on his Father in faith. He would sing while he did it. Isaac didn¡¯t sing, and he felt a bit embarrassed, and he was ashamed to be embarrassed, but he prayed out loud. He asked God to be in the Void Station, to protect it, to guide its foolish administrator. And just for good measure, he threw in some intercession for his friends, and for Dwayne and Jacob. Now. About those weapons systems¡­ Chapter 13 Chapter 13 Kate She stopped, awestruck, when she first saw her moon, the turning windmills, the pinnacles of her palace. She held her breath for a long time as the wind whipped her hair and scarf around her and carried her lab coat off to the side. It was beautiful. Amazing. She put her hands to her mouth and squealed in delight. Navi danced around her, equally excited. Only the sky dampened her enthusiasm. Dark thunderheads as far as she could see. It looked stormy, and all the landscape was lit with an eerie, sickly glow as light filtered down through the bruised clouds. She didn¡¯t mind storms normally; in fact, she often enjoyed them. But there was something unsettling about these clouds, this light, that strange discordant thunder. Navi alighted on something in the center of the platform. Kate went to Navi and picked it up. The hexagonal medallion. She knew about this, or at least, she had known beforehand that it probably existed, albeit little more. Her symbol glowed faintly, as did Isaac¡¯s, Jim¡¯s, and Liz¡¯s. Eric and Heidi hadn¡¯t made it yet. Kate looked around at her own door and the five empty spaces where the other doors would go. She¡¯d get them all! She would figure all that out soon enough. But there was so much else to learn! She skipped over to a downward ramp, which descended to one of the nearby towers. This tower¡¯s windmill had four pearlescent seashell-shaped arms. From here she continued down and found the main hall. She laughed over the crystalline floors, the columns colored like clotted rainbows, the ornate silliness of it all. The main hall had big speakers, making it seem also like a dance floor or concert hall. She found her room. It came with a communications console and a pile of stuffed animals. She found a kitchen, a library, and a room which was a chessboard with person-sized pieces. Here she seized her medallion and concentrated on a regular-size chessboard, visualizing it on the ground at her feet. A silvery fog poured from the medallion and coalesced into the very board she had imagined. Excellent! She moved on; the chessboard lasted almost until she had left the room before dissolving back into mist. She found a laboratory, but it was full of mechanisms and devices which were unfamiliar to her. The sight of it set her pulse racing. So much to discover! Where to even begin? And how much time did she have? She had no idea. She returned to her room and checked out the computer. From here she could manage the entire palace and contact the other moons as well as Ardia. Ardia! She had dreamed of that place a lot. Skywater City! It looked so exciting, although she thought maybe it would be best to explore it in groups. Surely there was a door to get there somewhere nearby. Lots of doors around here. She had a brief conversation with Isaac, in which he claimed to not have seen a moon. But he had a space station? Cool! What did the others have? She would have to ask them once they were all in. Isaac would probably try to make it all into a chart. He¡¯d figure it out, all of it. But for now, she needed to go exploring! She returned to her room before heading out. She grabbed a handful of butterfly hairclips and erratically caged her hair with four or five of them. This seemed to please Navi, who fluttered up to Kate¡¯s head and joined the plastic butterflies. Kate could feel her, very light, at the crown of her head. She found a mirror and gazed at herself. She grinned at what she saw (no scars!), but her smile faltered a bit at the thought of her other body, wearing these same clothes, the blood perhaps dry and crusty on them already. The dark stain behind the left shoulder of her lab coat had come with her. A reminder! Careful. She had one spare, one single chance to escape death, and she had already used it up. Be careful. Her reflection looked determined. She nodded at it. ¡°I w-wi-wi-w¡ªI will,¡± she said. And if there were dangers outside? Well, she had Navi! And she also had the medallion. She grasped the cool medallion hanging from her neck and focused on a firearm¨Ca revolver, like one of Aunt Becky¡¯s. And there it was, coalescing from mist. It fell to the floor with a heavy clang before she could grab it. She picked it up, aimed it down the hall, and pulled the trigger. Nothing. Of course! Just imagining the shape of a revolver wouldn¡¯t do the trick! She needed to get all the inner parts right as well. This could be tricky. But she had seen Aunt Becky take apart her guns for cleaning, and Kate herself had dismantled and reassembled them herself a few times, just for fun. The bolt, with plunger, the torsion spring and pin, the stops, the sear, the hammer¡­Kate focused on conceptualizing a revolver with all the necessary parts in place. It appeared in her hand, coalescing from a sudden cloud of mist. She aimed once more down the hall, gripped it with both hands and squeezed the trigger. A hollow click. Bullets! She forgot the bullets! Duh! She laughed and let go of the gun. It hit the stone floor as a dense revolver-shaped cloud and splashed into nothing. She could probably do a gun if she had to, or like a sword or something. But she had a better idea. She took up her bass guitar and held it aloft: Excalibur from the stone! She remembered what had happened in Eric¡¯s apartment. Music had power here. She slung it over her shoulder and tried not to think about what had happened afterwards, in Eric¡¯s apartment. The sensation of falling, the desperate hopelessness, the terror. Her high spirits returned when she entered the main hall. Brightly lit with warm chandeliers, the entire floor glittered and sparkled in paint-splattered Technicolor galaxies. Sunsets and clouds adorned the arched ceiling overhead. She skipped through all this, laughing, and even tried a cartwheel partway through, although she had never been very good at cartwheels, and this was doubly the case when she had a bass guitar on her back. She fell onto the floor, but didn¡¯t mind. The two enormous front doors opened for her when she approached, and she exited onto a high ramp that snaked across a dark abyss to a grassy cliff. She wasn¡¯t prepared for the wind, and for one panicky moment she thought it might blow her right off the ramp and into the pit. But the causeway was wide and came with a delicate waist-high fence. From here at the entrance, she could view the beautiful mountains, scenic cliffs, and gorgeous gorges (heh heh) to her right, tapering off into the rolling hills and rocky lake-speckled plains over to the left. Lightning sparked over the plains, and distant thunder rumbled almost constantly. Ominous thunder. Weirdly ominous. Kate took a breath, re-clipped some of her wayward hair, and set off down the causeway. A road across the canyon wandered off over the grassy hills. Rain seemed likely, but an umbrella would be useless here in all this wind. The green and black bass weighed heavily on her shoulder, but she didn¡¯t think it would help much against the rain either. She could just create a poncho if necessary! Bright pink. Her phone buzzed in the pocket of her lab coat when she had nearly reached the other side of the bridge. If it was Isaac again, she wouldn¡¯t answer. But it was Liz! EE: Kate? Kate beamed. Liz! She texted back as she set foot on the rainbow gemlike cobblestones of the road and followed it into the green landscape. KC: Lizzy! KC: <3 EE: Thank goodness. EE: Where are you? EE: Have you seen Jimothy? KC: I am on my moon! KC: just like you ;) EE: Moon? KC: and Jim is probably on his moon! EE: I don¡¯t understand. KC: don¡¯t worry about Jim, Liz. he¡¯ll be fine KC: his angel is with him right? EE: Hazel? Yes. EE: Are you saying we are each in a different place? KC: ;) EE: I shall take that as a ¡°yes.¡± EE: Are you sure Jimothy will be okay on his own? My place is icy. And he has no means of contacting us. KC: I wouldn¡¯t worry about Jim KC: he is very special! EE: I know that well. EE: I am just concerned for his safety. KC: :D KC: you¡¯re such a MOM Liz! KC: it¡¯s so cute! EE: Do you at least know where he is? KC: he is on his own moon EE: You keep saying that. Are you speaking of literal satellites in orbit around a celestial body? KC: yup! EE: Are we then permanently isolated from each other? KC: nope! KC: we have doors! and we can get each other''s doors so we can see each other EE: How? KC: ...i don¡¯t know KC: BUT WE¡¯LL FIND OUT TOGETHER!!!!! EE: Okay. I¡¯ll ask the natives. KC: Jim will be fine for now. this is just the beginning of the story, after all EE: ? KC: think about stories, Liz! the main characters can¡¯t die right at the beginning KC: and Jim is EXTRA safe because he¡¯s Jim! EE: We are...characters? EE: What does that mean? KC: I don¡¯t really know :\ KC: wait did you say NATIVES?!? EE: The Yvethians, yes. EE: That is my best guess as to the spelling. EE: They are enthusiastic about my arrival. KC: ?!?!?!??! EE: It comforts me to know that something surprises you. KC: Tell me about them! EE: They are growing impatient with me speaking to you. EE: They are like humanoid animals. KC: !!! KC: are you okay Liz? you don¡¯t sound okay <:( EE: Just tired. EE: And now relieved. EE: I am going to bed now, regardless of what the natives think. KC: Wow! Okay, you do that. I¡¯m not tired yet. KC: !!! I wonder if our moons have different day/night cycles? KC: 8| EE: Good night, Kate. Try to remain calm.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. KC: hee hee! KC: good night Liz! KC: and cuddle with Callie for me! Kaitlyn could not contain herself. She hopped up and down on the stone roadway in excitement. Natives? Like animals?!?! Jim would be fine, she was sure. They should all be safe at the beginning. That was the kind of thing Isaac would know more about than her, though. What would Jim¡¯s moon be like? And what about Liz¡¯s? The wind picked up even more, somehow, as she followed the path to the rolling green hills. Grassy tussocks danced around her, whipping in the gale, and bright flowers spun like pinwheels. The gale slackened when she descended a hill, and when she crested the next, it struck with enough force to set her off-balance. She turned to look at her palace when she had gone a mile or two. It looked very strange, especially in how every windmill atop the towers was different. When it was sunny, it would be sparkly and beautiful, but now with the darkness and storm and thunder it seemed almost threatening. In the other direction, colored lightning danced on the distant plains. Pink, green, blue, red, gold. She wondered if it meant anything. Maybe the different colors did different things? Maybe there was a pattern. Maybe it was a code, and the storm itself was sentient, and could only communicate through the lightning! Maybe. She pulled out a notebook and pen from a pocket of her lab coat and jotted down some notes. A mile further on, she began feeling hungry. It occurred to her that she had no clue about where she was going. It then struck her that this could leave no doubt that she was on a 100% legitimate adventure. Look at me, Aunt Becky! The road came to an ornate stone bridge which spanned a steep gully. A stream garbled down below, and the mossy sides glimmered with light. Kate stopped in the middle of the bridge to stare down into the ravine. The wind switched directions suddenly, nearly knocking her glasses off. She might have to get a strap for them in this place! Bluish light played in the darkness below. She saw something that looked like a butterfly flitting around down there. It looked deep. But how to get down? ¡°W-wha-wh-whaddaya think, N-navi?¡± she said. Kate paced on the bridge for a few minutes. She could go back and get a rope. She could create a rope with the hexagonal medallion, but she thought it might dissolve into fog partway down if she lost concentration. She tried asking Navi to take her down there, but Navi seemed reluctant to do so. It was very hard to tell with Navi. Maybe she didn¡¯t hear or understand? At length, she unslung the electric bass. It wasn¡¯t plugged in. That didn¡¯t matter in the Museum; would it matter here? Only one way to find out! She flicked the strings. Rich bass resonated in the air around her. And she could feel it, the music in the air, the sounds nearly a physical force, like a shaping power, something with authority. If her thing was Sky, she resolved, she should not be afraid of heights. She took a deep breath, squinted her eyes shut, and leaped off the side of the bridge. The thought came to her that she had been falling a lot lately. She calculated her acceleration and the distance she had to fall, and opened her eyes as she strummed a powerful chord. It was the same one she had played in Eric¡¯s apartment. Here it had the same effect: the air swirled around her, a buoyant force slowed her fall, thunder boomed overhead, not quite in tune. This time she fell awkwardly on her side and rolled partway down a wet, mossy slope. She came to rest facedown in rich-smelling mud. She flipped herself over and giggled. Navi came dancing toward her, and now Kate saw the other butterflies here: dozens of them, glittering with their own light. A lane of dark sky twisted overhead. The thunder was muted down here, and the wind hardly reached this dark place at all. Probably the butterflies didn¡¯t dare go up above! Too windy. She plucked a simple melody lying on the moss, and the butterflies responded. She saw Morpho peleides, Junonia almana, and (one of her favorites) Papilio palinurus. There were many others she didn¡¯t know, and a few she suspected didn¡¯t exist on Earth at all. Of course, none of these could really have existed on Earth, because real butterflies weren¡¯t bioluminescent. The ones down here had colors that glowed in the darkness. They danced for her. After a few peaceful minutes of playing, Kate arose. She had mud in her hair and all down the back of her lab coat, but remarkably little on her dress. Her scarf had also escaped largely unscathed. Her glasses had smudged only a little. She located one sandal which had fallen off and set out to follow the stream. It would have been treacherous in the dark, had not Navi revealed a new and helpful trait by lighting up the area with a warm white glow. She fluttered ahead as though urging Kate on. Kate had to stop periodically to admire the butterflies and the peculiar mineral deposits along the sides of the ravine, which also seemed oddly luminescent in the gloom. She also stopped frequently to try out different notes/chords on the bass and record the results in her notebook. So much new data! The bottom of the ravine darkened, but Kate couldn¡¯t tell if this was because night was falling. She didn¡¯t know what time of day it was here! The distant thunder became more immediate, and soon she felt a few stray raindrops which made their way to the bottom of the ravine. She glanced up, but there was only darkness above Navi¡¯s light. The butterflies had vanished. It had been cooling off as well, hadn¡¯t it? Another sound gradually joined the thunder: water trickling down the walls of the ravine. She felt a chill, and for the first time she experienced some concern regarding her situation. If it got cold and dark, and if it rained¡­ She turned to Navi. Navi had never actually teleported in her presence. Kate didn¡¯t know for sure that she could do what Callie could, what she had seen Charlie do. ¡°Y-y-you can t-telep-port me, r-r-ight?¡± The butterfly danced in the air with something that may have been anxiety. Kate held out a finger, and Navi¡¯s almost-weightless body settled upon it. Navi flexed her wings a few times. Kate was sure Navi was trying to communicate. ¡°I c-ca- I can¡¯t unders-s-stand you, Navi!¡± Maybe Navi couldn¡¯t teleport her. Maybe she was too small. Maybe Kate would die in a flash flood. That would be a stupid way to die. But she had read somewhere that a weirdly large number of people drown in deserts in this exact situation, by flash flood whilst in narrow canyons. And now she wasn¡¯t at all so sure about what she had told Liz earlier. Here in the dark and cold and wet, Kate didn¡¯t know whether they were safe. Maybe they could die right after getting here. Maybe it was that kind of story after all. The creek in the bottom of the ravine had risen noticeably, and it continued to inch its way up the embanking rocks even as Kate watched it. ¡°L-le-l-let¡¯sgo!¡± she shouted to Navi. She slung the bass over her back and dashed as fast as she dared over the moss and stone of the ravine bottom. She slipped and fell a few times, and each time the water was higher. It came up to her ankles; she slipped off her sandals and kept running. Then the water spanned the bottom of the ravine; she ran along the sides to avoid the deepest part, which now ran with a force strong enough to knock her off her feet. Water cascaded in sheets from above, lit beautifully here and there by the glimmering veins of luminous ore. Navi¡¯s light caused the rain to glitter like a shower of light around Kate. Although she well understood the danger, Kate smiled. Too cool! Too beautiful. And dangerous! (Look at me, Aunt Becky!) The water rushed in torrents into the ravine and had nowhere to go but down to wherever the ravine led. Soon it threatened to drag Kate away. She found a likely rock shelf and tried to pull herself up onto the slick stone. She almost succeeded. The water caught her, and her world became one of darkness, chaos, and a struggle for air. She tried reaching for her bass, but somehow got tangled in the straps. She lost all sense of direction. Her only thought was the necessity of protecting her head against being struck upon a rock, but soon she knew only the urgent need to breathe¨C ¨Cand then she was falling. Somehow, falling. Again. She had enough presence of mind to find this amusing. Maybe this was ¡°her thing,¡± as Isaac would say. The water dissipated around her as she fell, and she took a huge gulp of wet, black air as she twisted desperately to reach the bass. She only turned uselessly in the air. She struck something soft and inclined. (Perfect! The two best qualities in a surface to fall upon!) The impact knocked the breath right out of her with a squeak, and she tumbled down the slope to the sound of booming thunder. She at last came to rest, sliding to a slow stop on the slick slope. Facedown in the mud. She heaved herself over onto her back, found this painful due to the bass, and then with some effort untangled herself from its straps and set it next to her. Her left shoulder throbbed with pain, perhaps dislocated. She thought she had twisted an ankle as well. It could have been worse, though. Much worse. Water ran past her down the grassy slope, pushing against her hair, shoulders, arms. She wiped the mud from her face. The rain poured down at an angle thanks to the wind. Her glasses, of course, had disappeared. She could only see the colored flashes of light as the chromatic lightning lit the clouds above. It was still beautiful. Despite everything, this was still really cool. She touched the slope she lay on. Mud and grass. Water trickled down around her. The mud was in her fingernails, in her ears, her hair, the taste of it in her mouth. But something in the flashes of light above caught her eye. She saw only blurred shapes with her impaired vision, but it looked like each flash of lightning illuminated a dark form¨Cnot the clouds themselves, but something within them. Something that shifted positions from flash to flash. She sat up slowly, carefully, and looked around, seeing only darkness and a flitting speck of light up the slope to her right. ¡°N-n-na-navi?¡± she called out, her words overwhelmed by thunder. Kate gritted her teeth, picked up the bass with her good arm, her right one, and used it to help her to her feet. She hadn¡¯t gone far when light flashed and Navi flitted in front of her. Something glinted as it fell to the grass. Kate stooped and picked up her glasses. One lens had been knocked out; the other was covered in mud. Navi had teleported them here. ¡°N-navi!¡± Kate took an awkward swipe at the luminous butterfly with the guitar. The effort set her off-balance and caused her to sit down painfully on the soaking slope. She slid a few feet before stopping herself. Navi had teleported her glasses; why hadn¡¯t she saved Kate? Maybe it was size-dependent? She would have to experiment on this later. Safely, of course. She then recalled her resolve to be safe, in the mirror back in her palace. She hung her head in admonishment. Yeah, yeah¡­ She reached for her notebook and found only a sodden lump of paper, the text illegible. She dropped it with a grimace. The ink on the sleeves of her lab coat was also running. That was okay; she knew the equations by heart. She felt something foreign around her neck and remembered the medallion. She gripped it and imagined replacement glasses into existence. They didn¡¯t function, of course. She didn¡¯t know the exact specifications of the lenses. Damn it! She looked up again into the storm. Was something in the clouds? It seemed less clear now. But¡­sometimes it seemed like there was another noise besides the thunder, something deeper. The thought made her shiver. She didn¡¯t need any help shivering. Although it wasn¡¯t that cold, the wind sapped away any warmth she might produce with her own body heat. Apart from the lightning, hypothermia would soon be an issue. Especially if she sat around in the rain and mud. But with her twisted ankle¡­ The light around her suddenly winked out. Navi had vanished. Kate sighed and dragged the bass across her lap. For a moment, she felt very cold and sad and alone. But she reminded herself of her father, saying ¡°the sun is rising somewhere.¡± Yes! There was a beautiful sunrise somewhere right now, even if she couldn¡¯t see it. The sky was always pretty, even if she couldn¡¯t see it. This thought warmed her. With her left shoulder hurt, she couldn¡¯t really play the frets of the bass. That still left six notes. She tried plucking one. Its sound came out muddled and garbled, which struck Kate as weird since it wasn¡¯t actually producing noise in the normal, i.e. physically possible, way. She played anyway, plucking out a simple rhythmic melody. This altered the storm. Some of the lightning above corresponded to the notes, to the rhythms. But it didn¡¯t feel right. When she played in the Museum, it felt as though the environment willingly, even eagerly responded to the music. But here she was an intruder. Her music was invasive, plucking some small amount of control away from something else, something to which control rightfully belonged. There was another sound behind the thunder, and it shook the earth, and it made Kate feel very small and cold in that wet darkness. It made her stop playing. She looked around with the single smeared lens of her glasses. To her left, a distant glow. Could it be her palace? She looked the other way and was startled to see lights approaching. Colored lights, bobbing as they came. They fanned out and approached. Navi appeared in front of Kate so suddenly that she jerked back in surprise. The lights came near, flying low through the rain. Kate gasped in surprise and delight. People! Or¡­huge butterflies? Both at once? They carried colored lanterns, they wore colorful cloaks against the wind and rain, and they all had enormous butterfly wings coming out of their backs. Their compound eyes were solid, bright colors. Their six-legged lepidopteran bodies were roughly humanoid, covered in fine hairs that glistened in the rain, colorful and marked with swirling tattoos or birthmarks. Kaitlyn Carter gawked at them as they gathered around. One stepped forward. ¡°Are you,¡± it asked, ¡°the Child of Skies?¡± Its voice was high and lilting, like a whistling song, and Kate could barely hear it over the thunder. ¡°I-i-i¡­¡± Was she? She looked at Navi for help, but no help was there to be found. Another one spoke: ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter now! Look at her.¡± This one stepped forward and offered its cloak to Kate, who accepted it gratefully and wrapped it around her. It completely blocked the wind, and Kate hadn¡¯t noticed until just then how much of an effect that had. It made her realize that she was shivering, her teeth chattering. ¡°Of course,¡± said the first. ¡°Inexcusable.¡± It stooped closer and examined Kaitlyn with compound turquoise eyes. It reached out a delicate, strangely jointed hand and lightly touched the medallion hanging on Kate¡¯s chest. ¡°But it is you,¡± it whispered. Those nearby, having heard, reacted by stepping back and gazing up at the sky as though anxious, their wings fluttering. ¡°Bring her,¡± said the one who had spoken. It turned and sprang into the air with a flicker of its brilliant blue-green wings. Several of them crowded around Kate and carefully, after some experimentation, managed to carry her between two of them. She felt herself lifting off, but could see little apart from the storm above. Apparently, these people weren¡¯t concerned with the threat of lightning. Who were they? Why were they so beautiful? What did Child of Skies mean? Was there really something living in the storm? Did they get her bass too? Did Navi bring them? All these questions and more paraded through her mind, but foremost was a simple childish glee at finding butterfly people here on her moon. She grinned and huddled down within the borrowed cloak as her new friends took her someplace warm and bright. Chapter 14 Chapter 14 Eric Eric did a circuit around the top of the clocktower, checking out the city, the cloudy skies, the surrounding neighborhood. He inspected the platform of sturdy metal mesh, into which were set seven circles: six colored ones around the outside and a white one in the middle. The outer six had symbols. The one in the middle had no symbol, but it did have a small flat hexagonal object with six glowing signs on it. He slipped this into his pocket. No cell service, no wifi. Seeing nothing else to be done, he descended by the stone stairs along the inside of the tower. He had to flip up a heavy mesh covering to access them. The interior of the tower was full of motion. Seven enormous machines rose up from the floor far below, color coded and clustered together like a modern art installation. The outer six formed a circle; the center one was a bit larger and was also the source of the shifting, flickering white light which illuminated everything else. Each was probably forty feet from top to bottom and several paces across. Complex internal mechanisms moved, generating the soft yet curiously piercing ticking sounds he had been hearing ever since arrival. They were metronomes, all annoyingly out of sync with each other. Each was different. One was all turning gears and spinning wheels; the movements of another consisted of swinging levers; a third was mainly pulleys and weights rising and falling in steady patterns. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs for a closer look at one of them, the black one. This was probably Heidi¡¯s? Enormous drills turned hypnotically, rotating fluted columns in an absurdly complex system of brain-twisting movement in which nothing really moved. A large central piston, somehow impelled by all the surrounding motion, pumped up and down, striking a muffled chime with every descent. This one ticked faster than the others. The white metronome in the center interested him the most. It was larger, brighter, shinier. It looked like a catastrophe of mirrors and glass, all shifting and sparking, spreading an ever-changing array of pale lights over and through all the other metronomes. ¡°How ¡®bout it, Frisby?¡± he asked. The tiny dragon, who had been swooping curiously around the metronomes, returned to Eric¡¯s shoulder and nuzzled his neck. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± The ground floor resembled the interior of a church, at least as far as architectural structure. He saw no altar, or pews, or organ. Just those huge metronomes overhead. The rest was empty. Eric zipped up his jacket against the faint chill in the air. Time to go outside. The main doors were heavy, solid wood, but swung easily outward. He stepped into the yellow glare of a streetlight and set off to explore. It felt a lot like Chicago at night, except that he saw no other people. The city looked abandoned and old. He passed broken glass, crumbled brick, rusted fences and other signs of disrepair. A layer of dust or sand frequently covered the streets and sidewalks. It was eerie, in a zombie-apocalypse kind of way. He picked up a wrought-iron post shortly after leaving the church, four feet long with a probably-decorative spike on the end of it. He peeled it from a broken, rusty fence. It rested casually over one shoulder as he walked, but he mentally prepared himself to use it should anything jump out of the darkness. But nothing jumped out at him. He had chosen to walk toward a concentration of especially tall and comparatively well-lit buildings that resembled downtown area. He passed block after block of tall apartments and a commercial district, and he passed right through a weird swoopy building full of mirrors and windows that he recognized as some kind of shopping center. All this time he saw no one and heard nothing, although he walked quietly and kept his ears sharp. After the first ten minutes, he relaxed his course. He began to meander, to explore the area. This really could have been Chicago, or a different American city, except for the details. The language, which decorated street signs and shop fronts, was some runic gibberish he¡¯d never seen before. The doorknobs, where they existed, were triangles with the sides caved in. The streetlights were shaped crookedly, apparently on purpose. The sidewalks were strangely narrow, the streets strangely wide. Regular doors were wider at the top than at the bottom as if he was in some kind of haunted Dr. Seuss book. One time he peered through the window of a shop and could not for the life of him figure out what the hell it was selling inside. Shrunken mangled farm equipment? About thirty-five minutes after leaving the church, he entered the area he had marked out as his destination, the downtown-looking area with the well-lit buildings. The streets widened, and the asphalt gave way to classy stone tiling. Skeletal dead trees, more angular than regular trees, grew from planters along the roadsides. Here and there, a sculpture or a display of lights decorated an intersection. If it were somebody else here¨Cfor instance, Liz or Isaac¨Cthey would probably have been fascinated by all this and wonder about the implications of the society that had inhabited this city. Eric, on the other hand, took it all in with indifference, secure in his belief that none of his immediate surroundings were real in any meaningful sense, and therefore were not to be taken seriously. The one thing he did care about was beyond his reach for the moment. With any luck, she would be safe in the badass hands of Alan Sheppard. But either way, he could do nothing about it now, or if he could, then he didn¡¯t fucking know how, and thinking about this made him grit his teeth and clench his fist around the metal fence-spike and wish a zombie would come stumbling out at him just so he could re-kill it. While maintaining a wary eye on his surroundings, Eric pulled out his phone as he walked and texted Isaac. Maybe. Maybe he would answer. At worst he¡¯d get that Jacob guy again. ¡°Yo Frisby, eyes peeled,¡± he said, which was a sort of joke since Frisby did not have eyes. Frisby did his little dragon chirp in reply. EW: isaac you read me No answer. Every passing second made him feel a little colder. Was Isaac dead? Had Jacob been right? Eric had seen Isaac and Kate in the Museum, but it had been at that place where it only showed things that might happen, or might have happened, so it couldn¡¯t be trusted. Frisby Wiser¡¯s little claws patted his shoulder in comfort. Eric stopped and retrieved Kate¡¯s phone, also smeared with blood. It had cute stickers on the back. She had said in her note that she wasn¡¯t dead. Maybe. But he had her phone, so no use trying now. ¡°C¡¯mon, man,¡± he said. His phone vibrated. He was so tense that it nearly scared the shit out of him. IM: Loud and clear, over He exhaled long and slow. But was it really Isaac? IM: Glad you made it! IM: I was gonna text you when you got here but I got sidetracked IM: Bro I think my station¡¯s haunted IM: *scaaarrry noises* Yep. Isaac. Eric looked up at the dark sky and closed his eyes for a moment. He thanked God, just in case he was wrong and Isaac was right. He glanced around to be safe, saw nothing of note, and kept walking. EW: isaac you fuck EW: i thought you were dead IM: I was EW: fuck you what does that mean IM: Not really dead though IM: Didn¡¯t see God IM: Doesn¡¯t count EW: isaac bro you better start explaining that shit IM: How¡¯d you know I was dead? EW: tried texting you EW: guy named jacob answered and said you were dead or like maybe half dead or some shit IM: Haha like with Miracle Max! IM: ¡°He¡¯s only *mostly* dead¡± EW: so what did you get some fucking chocolate coated medicine or some shit IM: So I guess Black didn¡¯t kill Jacob. That¡¯s good! And he¡¯s got my phone EW: if hes got your phone how are we talking IM: I really did die, or I guess my old body did IM: But Charlie (that¡¯s my angel) took like my soul or something to the Museum just in time! IM: Where I had, like, this bonus spare body I guess? IM: Pretty sure I¡¯m out of green mushrooms now though IM: Kate understands all this better than me so you should ask her EW: kate EW: shes alive? IM: Yeah bro! EW: shes okay? IM: *nods* EW: shes here? IM: Oh yeah, she said something about you and Heidi seeing her die IM: That really sucks bro, I bet that was, like, traumatizing EW: no shit EW: it was fucked up IM: She feels bad about that EW: she shouldnt IM: Just pre-emptively, neither should you EW: so tis the same with her? EW: her angel got her out? IM: ¡®tis indeed IM: What is your moon medieval-themed? IM: That would be hilarious EW: just a fucking typo chill EW: where is she now IM: Theia, Cloud Moon EW: how are you talking to her IM: CHIME IM: It works here, for some reason EW: but i have her phone IM: Probably her other phone IM: *duh* IM: I said we got, like, duplicated right? EW: where am i IM: ??? IM: You tell me EW: fucking huge ass city everywhere EW: started out in cut rate chicago knockoff EW: like the off brand shit EW: fuckin scuffed EW: but i accidentally stepped into tron just now EW: these buildings looking like theyre headed to the worlds biggest rave EW: all neon lights and shit EW: futuristic IM: Do you think your whole moon¡¯s a city? EW: fuck if i know dude i just got here EW: where are you IM: I have... IM: guess what I have EW: insecurity IM: Incorrect EW: if you say so dude IM: Guess again EW: a bad case of the dunning-kruger IM: ... EW: wherever you are i hope it has ice IM: I have a satellite! EW: yeah that was my next guess EW: wheres everyone else IM: We¡¯re scattered around on these moons IM: You got a coaster thing right EW: yeah but it didnt come with anything EW: least they could do was put a cup of coffee on there for me EW: im craving some coffee bro IM: It has glowing symbols right? EW: damn there must be a coffee shop around here somewhere EW: yeah EW: theyre us right EW: so heidis okay too IM: Right EW: what about liz IM: She¡¯s fine IM: Probably asleep now though, apparently she¡¯s all zonked out IM: Jim is probably fine too EW: how do you know IM: He¡¯s Jim! EW: as cunning as that argument was EW: i am not convinced IM: Trust me, he¡¯ll be fine IM: He¡¯s got Hazel! EW: thats not a point in favor of him being fine EW: whatever IM: Man my station¡¯s haunted for real IM: Space ghosts IM: Coast to coast EW: think your place is spooky EW: im in zombie tron apocalypse right now EW: sans zombies IM: Your thing is time right? EW: damn i dont know EW: metronomes EW: pretty subtle EW: maybe im the fucking god of beats EW: or antique chronometers EW: or ambiguity IM: That last one actually sounds cool EW: haha like ¡®oh fuck is that the ambiguity guy¡¯ IM: ¡°Well, maybe...¡± EW: ¡®cant be sure¡¯ IM: Ha EW: hey i saw you and kate in the door place IM: The Museum? EW: you were like falling through the sky or some shit EW: is this a thing that happened? IM: Yes! IM: How¡¯d you see us? EW: also i saw leah with Dwayne IM: *leaps back from computer in astonishment, upsetting chair* IM: (not really though) IM: Are you sure it was him EW: fuck youre right it could have been some other dual cane wielding giant bearded guy with HOLD FAST on his huge ass hands driving a piece of shit red pickup IM: Huh IM: weird IM: So Leah¡¯s okay then? EW: dunno EW: we had to leave her EW: listen bro IM: ? EW: will i ever see her again? EW: for real EW: are we getting out of this? IM: I don¡¯t know EW: shit EW: i dont even know if i can talk to her again EW: there was something really important i needed to tell her IM: She knows, dude She knows, dude. Yeah. Probably right, Isaac. Eric still wanted to tell her, though. He promised himself, in the least melodramatic way possible, that he would not miss the chance to tell her should it come by again. Eric stopped replying after this and re-focused on his surroundings. Still no zombies. Instead, just as he had told Isaac, he had entered the Future World zone of the theme park of his big empty city. Isaac said they were each on a moon? He looked up but saw only dark clouds overhead. A break in the buildings ahead revealed, when he came to it, the shoreline of a lake or sea, the far end of which disappeared into the dark horizon. A crescent of lights, reflected on the still water, stretched away to either side. He hopped a crumbling guardrail and clambered down a shadowy metallic slope to the water¡¯s edge. It was lukewarm on his pinky. He sniffed the water, then tasted it. Fresh water. He turned around and was about to say something to Frisby, something along the lines of ¡®fuck this, let¡¯s go back and get something to eat or find some coffee,¡¯ when he heard the roar. Eric remembered the first time he had actually heard a lion roar in person. It had been a paradigm-shattering experience. At the Omaha zoo, as a kid, he had been watching some fish when he heard it. It had ripped through the earth; he swore he felt the vibrations of it in his bones. He had heard lions roar on TV, of course, and in movies like the Lion King, but they were nothing compared to the real thing. Speakers could not convey the gut-wrenching primal fear which the real thing inspired. Forever after that he mistrusted sounds he heard on TV or in movies, or anything through a speaker. The real thing could be very different. Same principle at work with live music. This was not the roar of a lion, but it was to a real lion¡¯s roar as that was to one heard on a recording through cheap speakers. The metal beneath his shoes vibrated. The surface of the water quivered. It was a deep, rumbling sound, but there was also a screech in the noise which set his skin crawling and made his jaw clench. Nails on the world¡¯s biggest blackboard. He knew, immediately and incontrovertibly, that a dragon had made this noise. It had come from across the water, from a part of the city reflected across the bay. He turned and searched the lights in that direction while backing up to the guardrail, the street, the safety of cover among the buildings. He watched the lights across the water, afraid of them winking out for a moment and thereby signifying the presence of a large flying creature. The guardrail startled him when he backed into it. He almost turned to look at it, and if he had done so, he would have missed the moment when a huge shape cut a path of momentary darkness through the faraway city lights right where he was watching. Eric averted his gaze long enough to jump the railing and scurry for cover behind a concrete planter containing a skeletal long-dead tree. Frisby followed and trembled as he crawled inside of Eric¡¯s jacket from beneath. His cold little body wormed its way up until it could pop its head out of the collar beneath Eric¡¯s chin. A dragon, huh? Could that be why the city was deserted? The buildings looked undamaged except for the wearing of time. Eric kept his eyes on the distant lights across the bay but saw no more sign of movement. If it was in the skies above the clouds, he¡¯d never see it. But he, too, would remain unseen. Probably the dragon was unaware of his presence. Eric was so small, and the city so dark, that it could not possibly have seen him. Probably. He dashed to the nearest building. It was a skyscraper, sleek and black, lined with vertical bars of neon blue. Warm orange lights glowed overhead as soon as he came under the awning. A plane of glass, visible only because of the accumulated dust, split apart to allow entrance when he ran through. He entered some kind of lobby, very futuristic and fancy, etc, etc. Eric did not care for any of that. Isaac would geek out about this if he were here, and Kate would whip out her magnifying glass and look for clues. Eric cared only about getting the fuck out of here¨C¡°here¡± being used in both the specific sense of immediate danger ¨¤ la dragon, and also in the general sense of all this moons-and-doors-and-angels- and-museums-and-shit. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Someone had graffitied the floor, which was a mess of dust, yellowed papers, upturned chairs, and broken glass. All the signs of a post-disaster area, with the exception that he saw no bodies, no blood. The logo on the floor of the lobby read ¡°ARKO.¡± Scrawled in jagged, red, frenzied lines and covered in dust and debris, the graffiti was only partly legible but definitely in English. It read in disjointed phrases: ¡°the old voracity,¡± ¡°god-eater,¡± ¡°consumer of worlds,¡± ¡°memories.¡± Eric theatrically twisted his head so he could see Frisby at the collar of his shirt. ¡°Look, Frisby!¡± he exclaimed. ¡°A clue. A fucking obvious clue in red graffiti on the floor of the ARKO building.¡± He shook his head in disgust. What the fuck was going on here? God-eater? Old voracity? Simple enough, there¡¯s a big-ass dragon out there somewhere. What, did it like eat everybody? Make them go away? Apparently someone had time to get some spray paint (he didn¡¯t see the cans around), come to this nice building (he hadn¡¯t seen any other graffiti either, at least not in this part of town), and scrawl a few cryptic phrases on the floor. He continued on through the lobby, past the reception desk and into a random hallway behind. The interior design looked like it had been copy-pasted from Star-Trek. It looked like something Isaac would design, thinking it was cool. It was kind-of cool. He checked a few rooms. Nothing particularly interesting, and nothing locked either, until he came to a big white hexagonal door dominating the wall like the door to a vault. This looked important, but he detected no means of opening it. It had a gigantic wheel on the front, classic movie-vault style, but he tried turning it to no avail and saw nothing else helpful in the vicinity. He made a mental note of this place and moved on. He stopped in one office and looked at some papers. They were written in an unknown language. They looked boring. He found several sealed cylindrical packages in a lounge area that looked like food. Ancient food, but perhaps Twinkie-like in its ability to persevere through the ravages of time. He pocketed a few. One door had several warning labels on it. He couldn¡¯t read them, so he walked in anyway. A dusty sword lay on top of a security desk as if tossed there and forgotten. Eric took it without hesitation. It had a wide blade but was surprisingly light. Little protrusions and angular boxes decorated the hilt. He tinkered with it by the faint light from the hallway, and after a moment he discovered a cleverly concealed switch. A flickering greenish glow sheathed the dark metallic blade. The room filled with lime green light and dancing shadows. That was more like it. He dropped the wrought-iron fencepost. Upgrade time. He turned the sword off and carried it with him back to the entry hall. He didn¡¯t feel like trying the off-brand lightsaber against a dragon, but it did make him feel safer. Better than a rusty fence-spike, anyway. Back over the graffiti and out into the cloudy night. He retraced his steps back toward the cathedral, but paused here and there along the way for more exploring. He saw parks, concert halls, statues, fountains, little shops and stores nestled in among the skyscrapers¡­but no people. No sign of life, not even birds or rats. And another thing: no vehicles. Empty roads, everywhere. He began to appreciate the fact that his immediate environment was, if eerie, pretty damn cool. Walking around with the sword through an empty techno-city made him feel like a badass. And he had a little dragon of his own flying around, keeping an eye out. Still, he kept to the shadows and tried to avoid exposing himself to the skies above, especially over in the direction from which he had heard the roar. When he neared the vague line where the futuristic city faded into Earth-modern, he entered a random skyscraper to see if he could get to the top and have a look around. Discreetly. He got lucky with an easy one¨Cthe elevator was in plain sight directly ahead. But man, the rest of the place was high class: crystal chandeliers, lush red carpet, platinum gilding on fucking everything. The people who lived here definitely had credit cards with no numbers or letters on them. The elevator rose in a column of empty air, surrounded by glass catwalks connecting it to the other floors. He stepped in and selected 104, the highest available number. The doors closed, and with a barely noticeable acceleration, the elevator rose. Lights flashed over him in a hypnotic pattern as he ascended. The elevator rose smooth and silent except for a faint hum. Too quiet. Could use some music in here. Eric felt the phone in his pocket, the one that still had bits of dried Kate-blood on it. According to Isaac, she was still alive. He had her phone, but according to Isaac, that didn¡¯t matter either. Well. No harm in trying. He sent a message from his own cell phone. EW: kate you there He waited to see if her phone received the message. It did not, although it still retained battery life. EW: status update EW: dead y/n The building interior steadily scrolled down on the other side of the glass. The wall on one side of the elevator was a mirror. He looked at himself: a scratched-up kid with a goofy techno-sword and a tiny dragon on his shoulder. Getting hungry. Needed some coffee. The silence from Kate began to worry him. Just like with Isaac. And with Isaac it had turned out to be fine. Still alive, still a dork. But what about Kate? He had seen her dead. He had searched her dead body¨Csomething which made him nauseous every time he thought of it. The idea that maybe she wasn¡¯t actually dead was at the same time natural and disturbing. The elevator at last came to a halt at the topmost floor. Eric stepped out and looked around. Stairs. He wanted to get to the roof. He was just turning down a dark hallway when the phone in his hand vibrated. KC: n KC: NNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!! KC: not dead! EW: what took you so long KC: sorry, I was sleeping! EW: i wake you up? KC: yeah EW: my bad you can go back to sleep or whatever EW: just a routine dead friend check KC: <:( KC: too late now! KC: did you get my message? KC: did you get Leah? EW: yes and no EW: but for real EW: you okay kate? KC: Eric I¡¯m so sorry you saw that! KC: me dead I mean KC: it¡¯s actually embarrassing to think about! EW: then dont think about it thats cool EW: i mean it was in no way cool but somehow you are not dead now which is what actually matters KC: <3 KC: yeah! ;) KC: I guess we¡¯re all here now! KC: did you just get to your moon Eric? EW: been here a minute EW: didnt think of trying to text you because i have your phone KC: oooh yeah KC: glad you got it! KC: don¡¯t look at the pictures though :p Eric had located a stairwell. A locked electric door blocked the upward path, but the sword, when sheathed in greenish energy, could score deep grooves into the dark metal of the door. It took a few swings, but he hacked out a hole large enough to squeeze through. He traversed the stairs as he continued his conversation with Kate. After a single upward flight, he reached a door which opened out onto a rooftop terrace. The rooftop was a miniature jungle of pipes and ducts, which he navigated until he reached the edge and looked out over the city. KC: and what about my note? KC: did you get my note? EW: about you maybe not being dead yeah EW: also your notebook KC: did you find your angel Eric? EW: yeah its frisby EW: leahs dragon KC: !!!! KC: that¡¯s so CUTE KC: say hi to him for me! EW: done EW: so whats your place like EW: you all good over there KC: stop worrying about me! KC: I¡¯m fine! The Theians are taking very good care of me EW: the what KC: the native people on my moon KC: they are like butterflies, Eric! KC: they are so pretty EW: wow thats cool i guess KC: so coooool :D KC: also they want to say hi EW: k KC: who is on your moon? EW: just me for now EW: and maybe a real dragon KC: describe your place, I want to hear about it! EW: so im standing on a skyscraper right now lookin out over an endless city EW: its night so its all lit up with lights everywhere which is pretty cool EW: and theres different parts to the city like where i started pretty much looks like chicago but then theres this techno future world shit going on over by the bay KC: 8o EW: and from up here i can see some weird coloration off in the other direction EW: but theres no one here and shits all dusty like its been checked out for a while EW: thats about it for now KC: Mormo says you must be on the hollow moon KC: sorry, the Hollow Moon EW: the fuck is a mormo KC: I think you¡¯d like Mormo ;) KC: he says something bad happened there, but no one knows what and everyone is gone now :( EW: i think i know EW: theres a dragon here and i found graffiti about it in a weird place EW: it was a pretty fucking cliche expositional discovery actually EW: is that how this works KC: @_@ EW: wtf EW: what is that face what does it mean KC: I don¡¯t actually know for sure KC: but it¡¯s kind of like we¡¯re in a story? KC: ?:\ KC: WAIT! KC: I¡¯m so sorry I was so happy talking to you that I never asked KC: are YOU okay, Eric? OI was coming for you! EW: yeah they were EW: crawling out of the fucking woodwork EW: but heidis a badass EW: and her death lizard is the real mvp i mean holy shit that things a monster KC: ???!!?!? EW: we couldnt get back to leah EW: thanks by the way KC: ? EW: i saw what you did EW: i saw you jump out there to grab her EW: it should have been me KC: don¡¯t you dare feel guilty! >:| KC: if you are feeling bad because you didn¡¯t die then THAT¡±S STUPID and I will come over there and I will hit you with my guitar! EW: what KC: I know you would have done the same thing for Leah KC: I can tell how much you love her, Eric KC: (it¡¯s really really cute!! ;) EW: well if you can figure out how to get over here youre welcome anytime KC: don¡¯t change the subject! KC: you are welcome here too :) KC: we just need to get each other¡¯s doors somehow EW: what KC: to fill the empty spaces on our platforms KC: *duh!* EW: i have metronomes for all of us KC: :| EW: big ones KC: 8| EW: ahaha but for real any idea what they might be for KC: nope, sorry! EW: somethings happening here EW: gotta go EW: well talk later KC: bye! EW: glad youre safe KC: <3 <3 <3 Three hearts. Calm the fuck down, Kate. No one would ever guess she had just woken up judging by the enthusiasm in her texts. In fact, it was strange to hear about her sleeping. A weird thing about Kate had always been that, even with the time zone differentiation, he didn¡¯t think he had ever caught her sleeping. She always texted back, like right away. Almost like¡­ Wait. Fuck, of course. He patted the bloody phone in his pocket. Two phones. She must have had them for a while. Sleeping and waking; Museum and Earth. He sighed and shook his head. He¡¯d get all their weird shit sorted out eventually. For now, something was happening out there. An object had descended from the clouds while he¡¯d been texting Kate. Not a dragon, but a vessel. A bulky shape dropped directly from the dark cloud cover, searchlights randomly flickering over the facsimile-Chicago below. He automatically categorized this thing as a drop ship. He watched its minute-long descent from the clouds down to the roof of a building about a mile off, one much lower and broader than the skyscraper on which he stood. Eric wished he had binoculars to get a better look. He settled for crouching at the edge of the rooftop and peering over at the newcomers. Friend or foe? Either way, the ship¡¯s position placed them roughly between himself and the cathedral. Closer to the cathedral than to him. Only about a half mile away from the cathedral, actually. Too close for coincidence? Were they looking for him? Or maybe they wanted the building. Maybe they wanted the metronomes. It occurred to him that maybe the metronomes, obviously connected to himself and his friends, were fucking important , and that possibly whoever had landed wanted to break them. That possibility gave him a sinking sensation in his stomach. Eric Walker, ladies and gentlemen, dropping the fucking ball already. No, he shouldn¡¯t jump to conclusions, but he also probably should do his best to prevent damage to the metronomes until he understood what they were for. He understood that there was no way he could outrace whoever was in the ship to the cathedral if that was their goal, but he began to slink away from the edge anyway, back to the door, the stairs, the elevator. So much he didn¡¯t know. Heh. Maybe he should go around looking for expositional graffiti everywhere. Not such a bad idea, actually. He heard the roar when he had nearly reached the rooftop door. Closer, much closer than before. It sounded from roughly the direction of the ship and the cathedral. The noise alone made him reflexively crouch in upon himself and grit his teeth in pain. He had never heard or imagined a sound like this. What the fuck. Eric put a hand to the door, torn between getting back down to the ground and going to see if he could observe anything from this vantage. He probably wouldn¡¯t be seen up here. Probably. But it was still a risk, not knowing how the dragon or those on the ship might detect him. The sound of explosions decided it for him. He dashed through the pipes back to the edge of the rooftop and looked out just in time to see the drop ship immolated in a ball of blood-red flame. The flames shone so brightly in the gloom that they blinded Eric. He ducked back behind the edge. He blinked a few times, saw a huge purple blotch in the darkness of his vision, and the outline of something inside the purple spot. A huge winged figure had blocked part of the explosion. His first glimpse of the dragon, in negative. Frisby cowered against Eric¡¯s side as he crept back to the edge and peered over. The fireball had faded, but now he heard distant screams and saw smaller lights flashing near the wreckage of the drop ship. It was hard to make out, but a huge shape moved among them in the darkness. Eric realized that all the lights in the city had gone out in a two-block radius around that area. He watched for a minute; that was all it took for the dragon to, apparently, obliterate the intruders¨Cthe ones Eric did not know whether to identify as friend or foe. He kept watching for a minute afterward, but all was silent. He could tell when the dragon left because the darkness left with it; the lights came back on in that area, illuminating the smoking wreckage of the ship. ¡°Frisby,¡± he whispered, ¡°I don¡¯t think we¡¯re high enough level for that shit. Let¡¯s get outta here.¡± He backed away from the edge and made it safely to the door and back down to the elevator. He inspected the contents of Kate¡¯s phone as the elevator descended. She had only one note in the notepad, and it looked like a list of equations. They were all so far beyond him that they could be complete bullshit, like a cat walking around on a keyboard, and he would have no fucking clue. She had a bunch of voice memos; they were mostly recordings of bass lines or of her humming melodies in order to not forget them. She didn¡¯t stutter when she hummed. Her photos and videos almost exclusively consisted of animals and the sky. Here was Whisky and Callie, there were some clouds, here was a bluebird, there was Callie again all snuggled up in a room full of antique globes, here was a sunset/rise, here was a chess set, and here were like five million pictures of caterpillars, chrysalises, and butterflies. Some of them were selfies. With butterflies. She looked so happy in them. When he scrolled back far enough, he found pictures from when Liz and her sister visited. Here he also saw Kate¡¯s aunt, Rebecca Carter, noted adventurer or whatever. Some of these pictures were pretty silly, and he understood why Kate might be embarrassed if he saw them. They made him smile. The rest of her phone was pretty basic. Some music apps, an rpg dice-roller for Banana Quest, a chess app with the computer set to the highest difficulty (still in mid-game), some search app called Wolfram Alpha, and a science news app. Nothing in the calendar. No other notes. No clues, in other words. Kaitlyn Carter: still pretty mysterious, but no longer an intimidating unseen genius across the sea. Now a goofy kid, though still a genius, with a butterfly obsession, a love of cute things, and dreams of another world. He put her phone away as he stepped back outside. No wind here. He hadn¡¯t felt so much as a draft since arriving, even though the sky looked stormy overhead. He shouldered the sword, sent Frisby ahead to scout, and carefully picked his way through the streets back to the cathedral. He was on full alert, head on a swivel, which is the only reason he saw its approach. From behind, the lights all went dark together in a rush toward him. He saw it coming, but it happened too fast for him to react. Besides, he had nowhere to run. Might as well be cool. He turned to face the oncoming darkness just as it reached him. Now he felt wind, a powerful gust that put him off-balance. A sound cracked around him like canvas snapping in a gale. Dust and sand blew into his face, making him squint into the darkness. He felt the vibrations of something heavy striking the pavement ahead. Metal scraping on concrete. He lowered the sword in a non-threatening stance, but he kept his thumb on the energy switch. When the gust had died down, silence and stillness returned. The darkness in front of him, which snuffed out the streetlights, was some kind of mist or fog. Tendrils crept along the street, and a chill radiated from the black mist. He waited. Frisby Wiser returned to him, settled on his shoulder, and clutched Eric through his jacket hard enough to draw blood. Eric gripped the sword loosely, ready to act if he had to. He had enough time to reassure himself that his calmness was not a fa?ade. His pulse was racing, but he was thinking clearly, just as he had when he¡¯d been looking down the barrel of Shade¡¯s gun. HELLO AGAIN, HERO OF TIME, sounded a voice that shook him to his core. WELCOME TO PYRRHUS. The voice was not audible, similar to the voice of the Dark Man in the Museum. Eric heard it in his mind, like a powerful intrusive thought. But unlike the Dark Man¡¯s voice, this voice boomed in his mind, drowning out all other thoughts. ¡°Uh¡­thanks,¡± he said. THE INTRUDERS HAVE BEEN DEALT WITH, SAVE FOR ONE. I LEFT HER FOR YOU. Eric thought he detected a hint of wry amusement in that thunderous unheard voice. ¡°Thanks again,¡± he said. ¡°I think I could use some company around here, you know?¡± Much to his embarrassment, the last two words came out weakly, like when Leah ran out of breath partway through a sentence but finished it anyway. YOU WILL HAVE TO KILL HER. CONSIDER IT TRAINING. ¡°Does¡­is it the metronomes? What do they do? And who are you?¡± It laughed, and its laughter was like the grinding of gears inside massive construction equipment. I AM ERANEX, THE GUARDIAN OF THE HOLLOW MOON. I WILL BREAK YOU, ERIC WALKER, AND I WILL BE THE ONE TO DESTROY THAT WHICH YOU LOVE. BUT NOT YET. That snapping canvas noise came again; the air stirred as unseen wings flexed. Speech delivered, time to go. Relieved that it wasn¡¯t planning on killing him, or monologuing, yet frustrated that it intended to depart after having left him with only a few vague threats, he shouted a last request for information: ¡°When?¡± YOU HAVE TIME, came the reply. YOU HAVE ALL THE TIME IN THE WORLD. And with this, and with a blast of wind that staggered Eric, the icy darkness swept up into the sky and vanished. The lights came back on around him. He took his thumb off the switch and wondered if the sword had a battery life, and if so, how much remained. The dragon had left someone for him. Consider it training? Was he dealing with some stupid-as-hell rpg boss which sits around waiting for the protagonist to level up enough to be a threat? He could worry about that later. The metronomes might be in danger, and although he couldn¡¯t say exactly why he felt this way, the thought of them breaking equated in his mind to his own personal failure. He jogged toward the cathedral. After a block, he ran. Frisby sensed his urgency and flew on ahead. Eric soon passed the remains of the drop ship. He paused to observe the wreckage. It was¡­weird. An awful-smelling charred corpse was sprawled on the curb. No time to examine it now. He ran on. The door to the cathedral was open. He had not left it open. He heard the sound of metal against metal. Inside, a large dark figure swung something like an axe at one of the metronomes. It was the golden one, Elizabeth¡¯s. The axe clanged ineffectually off of the churning mechanisms. The intruder paused to evaluate how best to sabotage such a machine. Eric flipped the switch. The blade in his hand hummed to life, illuminating part of the cathedral¡¯s interior in green. He walked to the front, over an empty stone floor, past row after row of cold gray columns. The intruder spun around and leveled its weapon at him, leaving the golden metronome undamaged. Good. Wait, fuck, was it good? Eric had always liked to imagine he could figure out how to use a sword, but in reality, he knew he had no fucking clue. And the dark-clad figure by the hourglass looked pretty big, and also like it knew how to wield that axe. Didn¡¯t really matter, he decided as he continued moving forward step by step. He didn¡¯t know what would happen if Liz¡¯s metronome broke, but it probably wasn¡¯t good and he had to assume the worst. He couldn¡¯t take any risks about that. And if it meant protecting his friends, he would fight whoever he had to fight. Fight, and maybe die. Simple. Easy. ¡°Damn, I¡¯m cool,¡± he muttered to himself with a weak smile. He had time to gauge his opponent. Bigger than him, swathed in black armor and with some kind of dark cape or cloak. The figure looked hunched, perhaps even inhuman. He saw nothing to designate it as female, as the dragon had suggested. A single circle of blue light peered out at him from somewhere around the face. He stopped ten paces away to see what it would do. The answer became immediately apparent as the dark figure leaped toward him in a huge arc from the base of the metronome. It was not instinct which took over in this fight; it was a cold, detached desperation. For all the twenty or thirty seconds which the combat took, he did not experience fear or pain or even anger. He saw only a single fact: he had to win. His foe dropped from its initial jump with a mighty downward swing of the axe. Eric jumped to the side, powered by a surge of adrenaline. He felt the vibrations of the impact as he retaliated with a horizontal swing of the sword. He put his hips into it, like swinging a baseball bat. Maybe the enemy did not know what this sword was, or maybe it made a miscalculation, but it reacted by raising an armored limb to block the blow. The green-sheathed sword dug deep into this appendage and Eric¡¯s enemy screeched in pain, confirming that whatever it was, ¡®human¡¯ was off the list of possibilities. It reacted quickly, sweeping the long black axe in a broad arc. Eric very nearly made the same mistake that it had by stupidly attempting to block the incoming swipe with his arm. Instead he dropped to a low crouch and felt the wind of the strike shift his hair as it passed overhead. That could have killed him; he could have died right there. He did not care. He had to win. He shoved himself forward and attempted to thrust the sword into the intruder. Something blunt struck him on the side and flung him to the ground. He rolled with the blow, came up on his feet, and tried again. He knew it had further reach with the axe, whereas all he had was this sword. He had to get close. In the end, Frisby Wiser saved his life, with some credit also going to the superior quality of his weapon. Frisby flew about the creature¡¯s face, teleporting here and there, and while the tiny dragon could not tear people to shreds like Heidi¡¯s angel, he made an excellent distraction. And Eric¡¯s sword, its green energy fading and flickering by the end of the battle, sliced through armor, flesh, and even the weapon of his enemy. He escaped with a handful of painful bruises and considered himself lucky. At the conclusion of the conflict, he stood panting over the twitching body of a large inhuman creature. It didn¡¯t seem to bleed, but it had clearly perished during the fight. Mechanical hissing and sparks emanated from the corpse, but he was sure it had not been a machine. Or not entirely. Which would mean that he had just killed somebody. Assuming it counted, since he was in some kind of dream world. He found to his surprise that, even if this had truly been a sentient creature, he felt little guilt about killing it. It had been trying to break Liz¡¯s metronome. He went and inspected the ticking machines. Elizabeth¡¯s was marked, but not seriously damaged. The black axe had not been enough. Although he noticed it had been enough to crack the floorstone where that initial attack had fallen. His own metronome, the red one, was ticking wildly, much faster than all the others. In a flash of inspiration, Eric put two fingers against his carotid to check his pulse. It matched the ticking of the red metronome precisely. Elizabeth¡¯s, meanwhile, was slowest of them all. Didn¡¯t Isaac say something about her being asleep? Eric felt a flash of discomfort at the idea that he was watching her heartbeat right in front of him. Was it voyeuristic? Nah. A little weird, though. Frisby, ever since the battle ended, had been fretting back and forth in the air above the fallen assailant. ¡°Thanks, Frisby,¡± Eric said. ¡°You¡¯re great even if you¡¯re not an unstoppable killing machine like Bahamut.¡± Frisby flew over to him. Eric raised a hand, and Frisby wrapped himself around Eric¡¯s wrist, tail and all, in a full-body hug. It was fucking adorable. ¡°Know where I can get some food/coffee/sleep around here?¡± He recalled the food he had found in the skyscraper, but¡­it had looked a little sketchy. Frisby did know where he could get these things, or at least two of them. Back behind the front of the church, through a thick wooden door and down a dark stone hallway, Frisby led him to an entire well-stocked living quarter. Bed, kitchen, table, couch, weights, drumset, soundboard, all in one giant man-cave studio apartment. Even with all that was in it, it stood mostly empty. Just begging for a big-screen TV on that wall, and probably a pool table or some shit there in the empty space. His first reaction to seeing this place was verbal: ¡°Who did this?¡± He said it before he fully understood what it meant, but it became obvious soon enough. Someone had designed this place and had obviously done it for him, Eric Walker. Someone had put basic food supplies in the cupboards and fridge. Someone had set up a drumset with a double-kick. Someone had not made up their minds about what the technological level around here ought to be, which resulted in a rack for melee weapons and rifles standing adjacent to the array of security-system monitors. He checked the security system, after a minute concluded that he had no fucking clue what any of it meant, and satisfied himself by flipping some switches that made all the lights on the rightmost monitor green. Probably good enough. He plugged his phone into the sound system and set some chill electronic music to play while he made a simple sandwich. A round throughout the church familiarized him with its layout and ensured that everything was locked up as well as it could be. He took a shower, bandaged his various minor cuts with some adhesive gauze he found in the bathroom, then crawled into bed with Frisby Wiser beside him and the sword, apparently low on power but still better than nothing, on the bedstand. The bed was comfortable, and dozens of colored lights blinked steadily from elsewhere in the room, making an otherwise over-large space feel close and comforting. Chapter 15 Chapter 15 Heidi A hexagonal metal slate floated in the dark, with a door in the middle and a wounded girl sitting in front of the door. It drifted in meandering orbit around the gleaming machine, in tandem with five other distant, doorless platforms. Its door side faced the machine no matter how it circled, but Heidi never fell off. This had confused her at first. Nowhere to go, that was the problem. Bahamut had vanished upon entry, leaving Heidi alone with the door. The door opened onto nothing. Heidi didn¡¯t mind. Although she did not know where she was, or which way was up, or what that spinning, shining, vaguely sinister monstrosity above her was for, she felt relaxed and calm. She leaned back against the cool metal door. The bleeding had stopped. She was not particularly hungry or thirsty. She could rest here for a while. Sometimes she looked up at the thing above her. Spinning circles, rotating gears and mechanisms, all in silver, gold, steel-grey. Something fierce shone at its core, but she could never quite see what it was. She couldn¡¯t look at this brilliance for very long. It warped the vision; it made her nauseous. It was watching her. Sometimes she gazed dead ahead at the strange distant walls enclosing her in with the machine. Long angled shapes formed these walls, some of them small, most of them huge. Darkly colored, red and purple and blue, shadowed with their distance from the bright machine, chaotically latticed. Dark gaps showed here and there. Heidi thought they might be responsible for that unpleasant noise she heard almost incessantly, a noise like huge chimes being rung in the most god-awful clamor possible. She could ignore the noise if she tried hard enough. She could ignore how the walls seemed to rattle and shift. Sometimes she looked at the small white hexagon she¡¯d stepped on when she first came through. It was split six ways and had all their symbols on it. Hers, apparently, was the compass-looking one, possibly a crosshair. Each little symbol glowed with color. Hers glowed black. Sometimes she closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the cool metal of the door. She felt the faint cool breeze, smelled hot metal, oil, burnt plastic like circuit boards frying, listened to the bizarre ambient disharmony of the bell-like sounds. Time felt insignificant. Heidi did not know how long she had sat there before Bahamut returned. He came when her eyes were closed, and he came silently, but somehow she sensed his presence. A clawed hand tapped her right shoulder, checking to make sure she was all right. She looked at him, unafraid, though his sharp-toothed reptilian face filled her vision. He crawled to the edge of the metal platform and gestured beyond as if urging her to leave. She looked around. Still nothing. Still no one. Still nowhere to go. ¡°What?¡± she asked. Baha slithered back to her and reached out to tap the white hexagon she¡¯d found on the metal floor. The black claw on his finger made a metal-on-stone sound against it. He turned and reared up on his four back legs while spreading his other four at the scene in front of her. Heidi turned the hexagon in her hands. Was she supposed to do something with it? Bahamut watched her puzzle over this for a moment. Then, with the speed of a striking snake, he gently curled his length around her. He carried her with irresistible strength, though she did not resist, to the edge of the platform. Without hesitation, he launched them both right off the edge. Heidi clutched at the muscular coal-black mass of Bahamut in alarm. A jolt of pain through the wound in her side made her suck in a sharp breath through her teeth. But they did not fall. They drifted outward, steadily, lazily, away from the compass-engraved platform, away from the awful machine. Heidi twisted helplessly, turning. Bahamut clung to one of her legs, and his eyeless viper¡¯s head gazed up at her expectantly. ¡°Okay¡­¡± They weren¡¯t falling. Was she in outer space? But she could breathe. What was happening? She decided not to worry about it. For now, for the moment, she was okay. She drifted, and the sensation was pleasant. No gravity tugged at her, weighing her down. It was a little like swimming, like snorkeling, drifting down in the water, feeling the tug of the tides. Relaxing. Calm. Although, her head was starting to feel a little stuffy. A claw tugged at her shorts, shaking her out of her reverie. Baha was dimly visible in the sickly golden light of the machine. He tapped his head with two claws, pointed at her with two more, and gestured out, away from the bright machine with yet another pair. Heidi hesitantly tapped her head in response. Baha nodded. She held up the small hexagonal plate, and he nodded again. ¡°I wish you could talk,¡± she said. Baha nodded again. After a few minutes of spinning slowly in the air, Heidi decided to ask for help. No shame in that. Kaitlyn, apparently, knew a lot of things, and was not dead if those images she had seen with Eric could be trusted. She would ask Kate. But Kaitlyn did not respond, nor Elizabeth. Reluctantly, she tried Eric. She waited several minutes, but received no reply from him either. She began to worry. How long had she been here? Had something happened? Was everyone else in a place like this, stuck and alone? Were all her signals being blocked? Jimothy didn¡¯t have his phone on him. Disappointing. That left Isaac. Or maybe she should try that Banana Quest? No, she didn¡¯t want everyone reading that she was helpless and stuck. She especially didn¡¯t want Isaac reading that, but¡­ She hesitated for another minute before reluctantly deciding that it couldn¡¯t be so bad. She opened CHIME and texted Isaac. HS: Hello? IM: Woah, hey there IM: Hey you program computers right? HS: Yes. IM: Might need some help over here IM: maybe HS: Why? IM: Actually this is like super-advanced technology IM: So nevermind, you probably wouldn¡¯t be able to help IM: What I mean is, it¡¯s like Science Fiction computers, not REAL computers IM: So I¡¯m probably more qualified than you HS: Why are you programming a computer? IM: So that it can acquire sentience and dramatically betray me later on HS: Why would you do that? IM: ^[joke]^ IM: What¡¯s your theme? IM: And moon? IM: And did you ever get an angel? IM: Or a sense of humor? HS: I need advice. Do you know what I should be doing? IM: Okay! IM: So you came in at your door? HS: Yes. IM: And you were on your platform, and you got the coaster thingy IM: The little white hexagon HS: The what? HS: Yes. IM: So what¡¯s your moon like? And your home base or whatever HS: I don¡¯t see a moon. HS: Are we on a moon? IM: Forget that, but what is your place like? HS: You are frustrating me, Isaac. I don¡¯t know what you mean. IM: Okay IM: You¡¯ve been here for like two hours already. What have you been doing? HS: How do you know how long I¡¯ve been here? HS: I was sitting on a platform orbiting a large machine. HS: And now I am floating in zero gravity. HS: Bahamut wants me to do something. But I don¡¯t know what. IM: Woah! Bahamut like from D&D? HS: what HS: No. HS: He is my angel. IM: Oh cool! What type of animal is he? HS: He is some kind of large black lizard with eight legs. IM: Wait your angel¡¯s black? IM: I thought they were supposed to be white IM: I bet that¡¯s significant IM: Let me know if you feel like you¡¯re starting to turn into a villain or something HS: Isaac, I have been shot. IM: What, like just now? Are you okay? HS: I will be fine. My point is that I am not in the mood for jokes. I am amazed that you are. IM: You mean because I was shot too? Hey, it wasn¡¯t so bad! I guess you heard about me dying but actually being okay somehow. HS: And Kaitlyn? IM: Oh, she¡¯s fine IM: Still there? HS: Thank god IM: Way ahead of you haha IM: Back to your difficulties, you should probably just figure out what your angel wants you to do? IM: *shrugs* IM: Where are you? HS: I am nowhere. HS: He wants me to go somewhere. HS: But I cannot move in zero gravity. IM: Maybe you CAN move in zero gravity HS: How? IM: What¡¯s your theme? HS: My what? IM: haha wow it probably sucks not knowing any of this at the beginning HS: Just continue. IM: I mean Kate explained it all to me at first HS: I don¡¯t care. IM: Your theme is like your powers or whatever HS: Powers. IM: Mine is space! IM: (I don¡¯t know what that means yet) HS: I don¡¯t know what mine is. HS: If I have it. IM: Hmm IM: The compass must be a clue! IM: Navigational powers, perhaps? IM: That sounds pretty lame though IM: no offense, if that, like, turns out to be what your domain actually is IM: You know, this might all be in my databases somewhere HS: If I had powers, how would I use them? HS: Also do you know why the others aren¡¯t responding? IM: Busy, maybe? Or probably asleep, actually IM: I was thinking of heading to bed soon HS: Where are you? IM: I have a space station! IM: We each have like a special place IM: And a moon, apparently, although my moon is MIA at the moment IM: Wait! IM: Maybe I can see your moon! ? IM: What¡¯s it like? HS: All I can see is these huge metal spikes HS: They are everywhere. IM: Okay hang on IM: As for the powers thing, I don¡¯t know IM: Maybe try, like, concentrating HS: On WHAT? IM: Like a compass or something? IM: Magnetism? IM: !!! IM: You said you¡¯re surrounded by metal! IM: I bet it¡¯s magnets! IM: You¡¯re gonna be Magneto! Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. IM: haha! HS: I will see what I can do. IM: Okay IM: I¡¯m having a hard time with all these telescopes but I¡¯ll keep trying to see if I can find your moon HS: One more thing. HS: Do you know of anything named Anzu? IM: Nope HS: Okay. HS: Goodbye. IM: See ya! As she had expected, not terribly helpful. But at least he¡¯d had an idea. Magnetism? She looked down at Baha, still wrapped around her leg. ¡°Is it magnetism?¡± she asked. He shook his head. Heidi sighed. Feeling silly, but not knowing what else to do, she closed her eyes and concentrated. She shut out the clamor of the bells, the sensation of falling, and the light of the bright machine. She visualized a compass, just like the one on the platform. Bahamut tightened around her leg with such irresistible force that she thought if he wasn¡¯t careful he could snap her bones like a hydraulic press. She opened her eyes with a start just in time to see a glowing white circle wink out of existence in the air before her. Baha squirmed in excitement and pointed at the place where the shape had been. He opened and closed his mouth a few times in a way that made Heidi smile. She had watched cute geckos do that all the time back on her island. She tried to hold an image of the compass in her mind. It formed in the air: a loop of white light with six arrows within. She reached out to touch it; it moved just out of reach of her hand. The loop divided into a perpendicular circle, and then again. The result was the skeleton of a sphere: three circles on three planes. They shifted, rotated, forming a hollow ball with a cluster of outward-aiming arrows at the center. She twisted to look at the bright machine with all of its spinning wheels and rotating parts. The object she had made resembled that. It looked like a¡­what were those called? Artillery spheres? No. Armament spheres? The thing she had created was the size of a beach ball, and it looked like a holographic projection of light. It turned and moved on its own, but she could reach out her hand and shift it around in the air, repositioning it. Heidi Sheppard hated all of this. It was too abstract, too bizarre. It was stupid. She had played enough video games to know that if this was something like that, it had been poorly designed. She had no instructions, no guidance, no direction. No direction. That¡¯s what the sphere needed, right? It was supposed to point at something, like a compass. With a sigh, she reached out and visualized the forest of arrows within the sphere aiming in a unified direction, away from the sinister machine. With a startling and gut-wrenching sensation, she fell¨Caway from the bright machine, away from the moving platforms, toward the forest of giant metal spikes. She tumbled through the air, and Baha fell with her, clinging to her leg, trying mutely to communicate. Heidi closed her eyes and focused. She visualized a three-dimensional compass. It pointed in one direction. She swiveled it around. At once she experienced the disorienting lurch of deceleration, felt a downward pull from the other direction. It was the sensation of hitting an aerial when surfing¨Creaching the apex of the jump and hanging for a fraction of a second before the fall. She released it, all of it, and opened her eyes to see the wall of spikes. She had retained a sliver of momentum toward this wall, but it was bigger and farther than she had thought. ¡°Okay,¡± she said. ¡°Okay.¡± She looked down at Bahamut. ¡°Gravity, right?¡± She felt him move, but at this point they were far enough from the light that his dark shape faded away against the darkness of the background. They drifted along at what Heidi judged to be a walking pace. Still she rotated helplessly in the air with no way to stabilize herself. She tried to watch the direction they were going. She thought it altogether too possible that one of those wicked metal spikes could skewer her as she approached. She was in a much larger space than she had at first imagined. The huge bright machine shrunk behind her to a distant ghastly star. She also realized, as they drifted past the first enormous metal spike (shiny and angular and blue, like a blackened skyscraper from Chicago), that they were traveling much faster than a normal walking pace. She made another attempt to slow them by creating a ball made of circles/compasses and briefly pointing the arrows away. It jerked them roughly to an almost complete stop. At last they drifted into the forest of spikes. These ranged from dull to shiny, and in color from blood red to deep blue to a black almost as dark as Bahamut. Some of them clustered like thorns or spiky crystals, while others stretched on indefinitely. She approached an enormous flat plane that may have been a wall of some kind, or simply another spike too huge to be perceived as one. It began to pull them in as they neared it. Heidi had felt other pulls, like weak tidal forces, but this one washed them irresistibly. It was like being rolled by a wave underwater. They fell toward this deep purple surface, picking up speed as they went. Heidi, near the end of the fall, created another compass to awkwardly check their descent. They hit the surface easily. Heidi rolled as she landed, breaking open the wound in her side. She cursed and re-secured the makeshift tourniquet. The surface was a dark purple, like burnt metal poorly welded. It was cool to the touch and completely solid. Darkness and shadows stretched everywhere down here. The light from the bright machine, which as far as she knew remained the only source of light in the area, only arrived in sporadic jagged streams. The patches of light that did make it to the surface shifted and changed. This was the most obvious indication that everything here, all of the enormous spikes looming around her, were moving. The noise was louder. The awful chaotic clamor like massive bells resonated erratically through the air. Every once in a while, a slight vibration ran through the solid metal beneath her feet. These massive metallic objects colliding must have been the source of the clamor. Like wind chimes. Really huge, really terrible wind chimes. Metal spikes grew erratically from the surface on which she stood, and more spikes grew on those. It almost seemed natural, like a fractal pattern found in nature, and the randomness of it supported this idea. Heidi felt light here, as though she could jump several times her height. The tether of gravity was flimsy. What would surfing be like in this gravity? Bahamut, when they landed, indicated that she should follow him by tugging on her cargo shorts. She tried to follow, but it became increasingly difficult as he led her deeper into the metal forest, away from the light. Bahamut was invisible in the shadows, and soon they were almost entirely in darkness. Heidi learned caution when she blundered into the sharp edge of a random spike in the gloom, cutting a thin gash across her right shoulder and collarbone. It was not deep, but it stung. And if she had been walking a bit further to the left, it might have sliced her neck. After this, she frequently felt the cold hard claws of Bahamut at her knees or shoulders, stopping her, turning her, guiding her. Soon she crept into nearly total darkness, surrounded by razor-edged spikes. For the first time since arriving, Heidi became afraid. She could see nothing, and she didn¡¯t dare move without the guidance of the strange creature she still knew nothing about. The fear sprang from the unknown. Where was she? She didn¡¯t know. Where was she going? Didn¡¯t know. Was anything else here in the darkness with her? Didn¡¯t know. Was Alan okay? Leah? Didn¡¯t know. Was she one step away from skewering herself on a razor-sharp spike? Didn¡¯t know. At one point, ten seconds passed without a touch from Bahamut. Then twenty. At last Heidi heard a soft slither, then felt a light pressure at the top of her head. It guided her down and forward inch-by-inch. A scaly hand took hers and moved it in a rough circle in front of her. She crouched and shuffled through that circle, several times brushing against the razor edges. She crawled in a cramped, crouched position, gritting her teeth against the pain in her side, for twenty or thirty feet before the invisible claws straightened her up again and, taking her by the hand, led her forward in utter darkness. It reminded Heidi of a trust exercise, which she had never performed with anyone but had read about online. Surely this put all trust exercises to shame. What if Bahamut, making a simple miscalculation, led her into a sharp spike that pierced her already wounded side, or stabbed her right in the eye? It was all too possible that Baha, regardless of his intentions, might make such a blunder, and Heidi walked every step in fear of a sharp pain. And what if she tripped and fell? She shuffled her sandaled feet, checking every step before committing. The gravitational tides made it worse. It was hard enough to maintain balance and move with precision in unusually light gravity; it was much more difficult when at random times she felt strangely pulled in random directions. A gash across her left knee taught her to keep a wide stance. Low and steady, like self-defense practice with Alan. She did not trip, and neither was she skewered on a metal spike, although on a couple occasions Baha halted her movement with a frightful suddenness which made her think it had been close. After ten minutes, or ten hours, she saw light ahead. She at first dismissed it as her imagination, which had been populating the utter darkness with phantom images for some time. But the light ahead remained steady, a faint pinkish glow. Soon it grew strong enough that she could discern her surroundings. The black shadow of Bahamut led her out of a jungle of thorns and into a more open space. Small clusters of spikes glowed softly around her. The surface on which she stood, flat and hard, cut off near the glowing spikes. In the vast abyss beyond, more of the pinkish lights glinted in the distance, ranging in shade from magenta to lavender, adorning slowly moving objects of incredible size. Gravity altered as she walked to the sharp edge. It pulled her more in a backwards direction. She understood. She could cross the edge, and then ¡°down¡± would be in a different direction. She had played a game with physics like that. The glowing spikes, when she approached, were semi-translucent, almost crystalline. They looked like thorns. Also, she saw on closer inspection that they grew out of two desiccated corpses. More specifically, out of the bones. Heidi reached down to investigate, but Bahamut was there in a flash, stopping her hand from touching the glowing thorns, the corpses. She could just make out the emphatic shake of his head, which gleamed with an oily shine of reflected pink lights. Heidi gazed out at the slowly churning galaxy of lights in the empty vastness before her. Some brighter lights shone, presumably from small clusters of crystals growing out of bodies, and these illuminated large swaths of the ludicrously huge metal objects, cutting them into stark shadows. Continual dissonant gong-like sounds rang out in the distant darkness. Someone else, thought Heidi¨CKaitlyn, perhaps, or Liz¨Cwould find this view beautiful, or at least interesting. Heidi just wanted a place that made sense. She was hungry, she was thirsty, and felt the building need to use a bathroom. She barked a harsh laugh when she looked down at herself. It looked like she had come out the losing end of a knife fight. Streams of blood stained her clothing, and her tattered tank top hung by only one strap. None of the injuries were serious in themselves, and all had stopped bleeding, but they throbbed with dull pain like large paper cuts. She wondered if the others were having troubles like this. The thought of Kaitlyn or Jimothy being in this situation somehow made her feel sick and angry. She began to remove her tattered tank top, then hesitated for the sake of decency. She wasn¡¯t worried about Baha seeing her, but others, if indeed they were here¡­then she laughed at herself. Such fears, she decided, were childish. She guessed that this was not a place where being shirtless was a big deal. She removed the shredded shirt, took the longest, least bloody strip, and fastened it as a headband around her forehead. She liked having a headband; she was used to the feeling. This left her in only her sports bra (which, she hated to admit, was hardly necessary). But that was fine; she went around the island like this all the time. She turned for a last look at the thicket she and Baha had squeezed through, and only then did she realize that she¡¯d had her phone the whole time. Who knew how much battery it had left, but it could at least have provided some light. Idiot. She nodded in confirmation. She was an idiot. At least she¡¯d saved battery. Bahamut stood up on his back two legs, which brought him up to eye level with Heidi. He gestured out at something in the distance. Heidi saw nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing she hadn¡¯t seen here already, apart from the brighter lights of unknown origin. ¡°The lights?¡± she asked. He nodded. Then he wrapped himself around her leg. Heidi took a deep breath and visualized the sphere, the intersecting circles. It appeared in the air before her, beach ball sized. She reached out with one hand and very slightly gestured up, toward the lights. Gravity slackened. She gestured again, more strongly, and this nearly negated the pull of the metal below. Just a bit more and the two of them drifted away into the air. They had to navigate around spikes like skyscrapers that floated into their path. They landed on a particularly large one, walked around it to the other side, and took off again. She adjusted course to avoid a drifting cluster of thorny shards. She and Bahamut glided silently, and with increasing finesse, through darkness and purple stars and sharp shapes drifting in the void. When she was far out into the open, Heidi saw that there was no end to the scale of the metal structures. The one she and Bahamut had walked upon before was but a parasite clinging to one that took up nearly a third of her entire field of vision. It took a half hour to traverse the great gap, even though in the middle she had accelerated to a fair speed, perhaps forty or fifty kilometers per hour. When at last they touched awkwardly down in a well-lit area, she hoped fervently that Bahamut knew where it was leading her, and that their destination was close. She wanted rest. The creation and management of those gravity-altering sphere things took a lot out of her. Almost as soon as she landed, she heard something else besides the omnipresent noise of disastrous bells: a shuffling, a clinking. Something nearby. She retrieved the gun from the left pocket of her cargo shorts and held it at the ready. She wasn¡¯t too concerned with Bahamut present, but in this place¡­ A shadow moved in the darkness behind a row of spikes, barely visible. ¡°Hello?¡± said Heidi, gun partly raised. How many shots left? She had no idea. This wasn¡¯t her gun, it was Shade¡¯s gun. She had fired it once at Black, right? And several times in Chicago¡­but she couldn¡¯t remember, and she didn¡¯t want to remove the magazine and check now. She should have checked earlier. Idiot. Alan wouldn¡¯t have made that mistake. Something stalked out from among the spikes with startling suddenness. Heidi had just enough time to raise the gun and get off a single shot before something she could hardly see slammed into her. Gravity was relatively strong here but still weaker than Earth; she was flung aside by the force of the blow, collided forcefully with a painful edge, and fell down toward a cluster of sharp metal shards that promised to lacerate whatever part of her body touched them. She desperately created a sphere and gestured ¡°up.¡± Up became down, and she fell into the dark void. With a series of short, unimaginative curses, she made a desperate effort to steady herself. A rasping cry of pain sounded from the lit area, and she recognized its source as Bahamut. This infuriated her. The number of things in her entire life that had hugged her could be counted on one hand. But she could hardly steady herself. She had nothing to hold on to, nothing to stabilize with. Unless¡­ She created a small sphere directly in front of her and tried to seize it as she spun through the air. It passed right through her hand. She cursed again. Bahamut made another noise, a fierce hissing growl, something that sounded like anger, or like a snake hissing in warning. Something resounded in answer: a low moaning which somehow chilled her like ice sliding down her spine. Heidi thought she heard something in there¨Ca word, or an idea, or a sensation: ¡­alone¡­ Then, a high-pitched yelp from Bahamut. Heidi snarled in impotent frustration. She tried something desperate, the only thing that came to mind: she visualized the sphere inside of herself, all the arrows pointing inward toward the central point. A peculiar pressure tingled all over her body. Gravity pulled her feet up, her head down, her arms in. The momentum of her spin slowed. She cast her gaze about to locate Bahamut, saw two dark shapes: one small and serpentine, one large and insectile. She threw herself toward them, braking at the last second to tumble awkwardly to the ground, where she sliced herself on wayward shards. She came up in a sitting position and blindly pumped four rounds into the larger dark shape. It flinched back, whether from the noise or from injury she didn¡¯t know. She struggled to her feet and checked Bahamut. He seemed fine, not that she thought she¡¯d be able to tell if he wasn¡¯t. The creature she faced stood in the light, but like Bahamut this did not help in distinguishing its features. Only the outlines of thin leg-like appendages, claws or blades extending and flexing, wings of some kind shifting behind, were half-visible against the shadowy spikes. It changed as she watched. It shrieked out again in a horrible wail. ¡­lonely¡­ It charged. Twice more her gun boomed, echoing in the vast spaces beyond. Then the shadow was on her, pinning her to the cold floor. She saw or felt Bahamut intervene, but in the black against black she couldn¡¯t see what was happening. They should run. She didn¡¯t know if they could outrun this thing, but she was already hurt, and she didn¡¯t want Bahamut getting hurt, either. She tried pushing up against the force pinning her down, but it was like pushing against a mountain of slick, cold tar. The gun apparently did nothing and must have had only a few rounds left, anyway. She had a knife, but this thing was huge and she did not know what it was. That left her with one tool. She created a compass in front of her eyes and swiveled it to point up. They tumbled into the sky, the cold shadow grappling her with sharp, frigid angles. She erased the arrows of the compass, swung her legs up, and manage to launch herself off of the black creature, back to the ground. She saw, from the corner of her eye, Bahamut following her lead. They struck the ground together and rebounded gently back into the air. The dark creature still squirmed in the air overhead, drifting away from them. Could it fly? Could it navigate the weightless void? She didn¡¯t want to stick around and find out. She released the compass and fell a few inches to the ground. She¡¯d forgotten her injury; the jarring landing sent a lance of agony through her side. She saw as she rose that she had new slices in her skin. So many cuts. Such a sharp place. She sensed musical jokes in there somewhere, but did not even try to think of any. She was, after all, an idiot, and now a very tired one, and she was now even less in the mood for jokes than when she had texted Isaac. Her hands were sticky with blood, probably her own, although she wasn¡¯t sure. She resecured the belt-tourniquet and proceeded with Baha. A bruise on her left hip and a series of lacerations on the other foot made her limp. Not a problem. She could walk it out. The landscape ahead was more of the same: the dark metal spikes everywhere. But ahead lay something different. It looked like an actual building, gray and foreboding, somehow nestled in among a cluster of large spikes. The shortest path there took them along several of the larger spikes, although flight by gravity-manipulation was also an option. It had better be worth it. She wanted a safe place to eat and drink. And she needed to pee. She didn¡¯t want to do it out here in this wasteland of shadows and metal. But if she had to, she would. Not long after evading their attacker, Baha suddenly rose up in front of her. Heidi, her reaction time only marginally slower, crouched in a ready position with the Glock (three rounds remaining). A person emerged from the darkness. It was shorter than her, thick, humanoid, wearing a weathered greenish uniform that looked vaguely police or military. Its entire head was loosely but thoroughly wrapped in blue and purple bandages. Tufts of white hair stuck out wildly in the back, and one half of a moustache and pieces of a wiry beard protruded from the front. Of its face Heidi could only make out a single dark opening where an eye should be. Its hands were bandaged like its face, and each hand had three fingers in total, fat and stubby. Of particular note, it held a long, dark spear upright in its right hand. This looked like the kind of thing she could kill with bullets if she had to, which was a comforting thought. It did not lower the spear at them; if it had, Baha might have charged. The creature backed off a few paces, but Heidi did not relax her guard. ¡°Who¡­are you?¡± it asked in a rasping whisper that sounded unhealthy. She didn¡¯t know how to respond. Name? Should she give her real name? ¡°You wouldn¡¯t be¡­¡± the creature began, but had to stop for a series of wheezing coughs. Bandages fluttered as its small frame shook. It hunched over for the coughing fit, but it straightened up again when it was finished, and she thought she saw the glint of an eye peering out from the dark hole in the bandages of its face. ¡°The hero?¡± Heidi looked to Baha for guidance, but he had his focus trained entirely on the bandaged figure. Which was guidance enough, in its own way. ¡°Hero?¡± she asked. ¡°The hero of Orpheus¡­¡± A few more wince-worthy coughs. ¡°The Metal Moon.¡± Metal Moon? Accurate. Didn¡¯t Isaac say she had a moon? And a home of some kind. And powers. And a special door. She probably was this hero, although she knew nothing about it. Somehow, this pissed her off. Where was her choice in this? Someone, somewhere, must have decided that she was going to be this hero, and it sure as hell hadn¡¯t been her. Instead of answering, she said, ¡°Who are you?¡± The creature swayed side to side as though rocked by a breeze. ¡°I am¡­Balazar. A¡­wanderer here. An¡­outcast. All¡­are outcasts here.¡± He turned his gaze to Bahamut. ¡°A¡­rue guards you. Does it¡­share your pain?¡± ¡°Pain?¡± she said. It continued to make no threatening moves, but something about it unnerved Heidi. ¡°All¡­are lonely here. We¡­attract the lorn.¡± ¡°Lorn?¡± She regretted saying this at once. She sounded like an idiot, just repeating things this guy was saying. But on the other hand, she needed information. But she wouldn¡¯t do that again. If she was some kind of hero, she could at least try to sound intelligent. The wrapped figure reached out a hand to one side. Baha and Heidi tensed, but he merely patted a nearby reddish spike rising from the floor. ¡°It¡­gathers. It¡­grows. The lorn¡­and the forlorn.¡± A horrible choking sound followed this. Heidi almost took a step forward out of concern to ask if the person was okay before she realized that it was some kind of laughter. ¡°Let us go¡­¡± it said as it turned, ¡°to the prison.¡± ¡°Prison?¡± Damn it! In response, the thing¨CBalazar¨Csaid, ¡°All¡­are prisoners here.¡± Then it laughed again, in such a way that Heidi half expected it to drop dead from a collapsed lung at any moment. Heidi and Baha followed the creature, but kept a safe distance. It led them all the way to the far point of the shard they walked on and then removed a small golden sphere from a pocket. It looked like the spheres Heidi could make. It looked like the big bright machine. ¡°What is that?¡± she asked. Good, a longer-than-one-word question. Progress. The blue and purple bandages shifted as it turned to examine her. ¡°PGS,¡± it replied. ¡°Personal¡­gravitational singularity. ARKO¡­tech. You do not¡­possess one?¡± She held out a hand, causing Balazar to flinch back, and created a glowing compass in the air. It multiplied into a sphere similar to the one he held. The bandaged head nodded. ¡°You¡­are the warden. Welcome¡­to Orpheus. Follow¡­me. And¡­be on guard. There may be¡­rue about.¡± He twisted the sphere a few times and rose to rise from the floor into the dark void above. His shadow, cast by the huge pink spike, left his feet and slid away. Baha attached himself to Heidi¡¯s leg, and they followed. Balazar took them through the shifting chaos of the metal to a prison. Here Heidi found her home, and it was not anything like she expected. Hours later, she and Bahamut retired to a reinforced room, locked and sealed the door as much as they were able to, and slept. Chapter 16 Chapter 16 Alan Sheppard ¡°You¡¯re coming here? To Chicago?¡± asked Alan. ¡°I suppose. Hrm. Yes. I expect I¡¯ll be there soon, providing¡­¡± ¡°Providing what? Is something wrong?¡± ¡°Yes, there seems to be a bit of an issue with the sky , Alan. It is breaking apart, rather. Or some such nonsense. I swear, Alan, I should have shot Riley. Years ago. Ah¡­well.¡± ¡°Ms. Carter, I¡ª¡° ¡°Rebecca, please.¡± ¡°Rebecca. Things are getting messy here.¡± ¡°What was that noise?¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°I thought I heard someone screaming on your end.¡± ¡°You did. I was just saying that things are getting bad in Chicago.¡± ¡°Well, what on Earth is happening, Alan?¡± ¡°I¡­I don¡¯t know. There¡¯s a fog. You¡¯ll see it when you land. Where will you be landing?¡± She laughed. ¡°You seem to be under the misconception that I am flying this machine. It is not so, Alan. It is flying itself. I imagine it will land wherever Kaitlyn¡¯s phone is. Why did you answer her phone, incidentally?¡± Alan Sheppard was standing at the open space in the wall where the balcony had been. He looked down at where he had last seen the body of Kaitlyn Carter. Now he saw only fog. He did not know if it was still down there or if the police had taken it away. He did not know many things, and this set him on edge. ¡°Her phone works,¡± he said. ¡°We¡¯re in Walker¡¯s apartment building. We¡¯ll meet you on the roof.¡± ¡°Hrm. I see.¡± Alan could tell that she knew something was wrong. But she continued, ¡°and then?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve got to meet up with Michael Whyte,¡± he told her. ¡°Also, I have a child with me.¡± ¡°Yes, I know. Heidi, correct?¡± ¡°No¡­it¡¯s Leah Walker.¡± ¡°And?¡± ¡°We¡¯ll be taking her with us.¡± ¡°Doesn¡¯t she have parents?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± said Alan, aware that the girl in question was within earshot, and probably listening closely despite appearing to be occupied playing with the stuffed turtle. ¡°I don¡¯t think so. Not anymore.¡± ¡°Dear god, what is happening down there? No matter. Plenty of room on this jet. I only wonder how much longer the airspace will be navigable.¡± Alan heard in her tone that she had more to say, so he waited. Somewhere nearby, something heavy slammed. The floor quivered and dust sifted down from the ceiling. Leah whimpered softly and hugged the stuffed turtle. At least there were no screams this time. Alan quietly and carefully moved to stand by the door. Its lock was broken. ¡°Hrm,¡± Rebecca continued. ¡°Say, Alan. Have you been contacted by a rather dramatic individual who goes by ¡®Christmas¡¯?¡± ¡°Yes, I have. He¡¯s connected to October Industries.¡± ¡°And do you trust him? Or her, I suppose, but I get the sense, you know.¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°Hrm. Good.¡± ¡°But he helped me. Got me out. I think he¡¯s an inside man trying to shut it all down.¡± ¡°Well he¡¯s been telling me to find you and a few others. There¡¯s some place we need to go, according to him.¡± ¡°Understood. When do you expect to arrive?¡± ¡°Well. I must say that¨Coh, just a moment¡­yes something is happening now. I believe I am close.¡± ¡°Good. Then we¡¯ll plan for the roof.¡± ¡°Quite.¡± She hung up. Alan pocketed the phone and took a quick inventory of his assets. They weren¡¯t many. For weapons, he had several knives he¡¯d taken from the kitchen. For supplies, he¡¯d gathered together bottled water and food items from the Walker¡¯s home and packed them into a duffel bag he¡¯d found in a closet. He had rope, cord, matches, towels, a first aid kit. All this besides his own light pack containing little more than toiletries and a change of clothes. Something slammed again somewhere nearby, shaking the floor and walls. This time Alan thought he heard a low growl that went along with it. To the roof, then. He took a moment to write a note to Leah¡¯s parents, should they return. He made it as thorough as possible. It was a hard note to write. What if they did return? What if they came home to find their daughter and son missing? It reminded him that he was going to have to provide more than a note to Rebecca Carter. He swore under his breath as he pinned the note in an obvious place in the middle of the floor where the table used to be. ¡°Come on,¡± he said to Leah, who had assembled her own small purple backpack of necessities. He hadn¡¯t told her to do that; she had been watching and copying him. ¡°It¡¯s time to leave.¡± He slung the duffel bag around his shoulder, then on second thought held it dangling loosely in one hand so that he could drop it in an instant if he needed to move fast. The other hand took hold of Leah Walker¡¯s. She looked up at him with an unnervingly intelligent gaze, as though she understood the entire situation as well as he. It was a trusting look, and it only hardened his resolve to protect her. He sure as hell had to protect something, and this girl reminded him of Heidi around the age he had begun taking care of her. ¡°Eric and Heidi will be okay,¡± she whispered to him. He nodded back, not sure who she was trying to reassure. She squeezed his hand. He squeezed back, gently. He put a finger to his lips, then led her to the front door and opened it. The man on the other side had been reaching for the knob. He had not been expecting the door to open, nor a threat to emerge, because he was not even looking at Alan when the door swung, nor was he in any kind of ready position. Alan thought, for a brief moment, that this tall broad-shouldered man might be Leah¡¯s father. Then he saw the orange and grey jacket. The man had impressive reaction time, given that he was caught flat-footed. His hand was halfway to a hidden weapon at his back when Alan¡¯s charge drove him across the hall and pinned him to the far wall hard enough that both the wall and several of the man¡¯s ribs cracked under the impact. Alan¡¯s hand snaked around behind the man¡¯s waist as he checked the situation. Two other people to his left; the man had been looking at them when reaching for the door. Alan didn¡¯t have time to look in the other direction; he had to deal with the visible threats at once before turning to the hypothetical ones. His right hand found what the man had been reaching for: a handgun. Semi-automatic, low-caliber, long and heavy barrel. Silenced? He lunged toward the other two. One was close, a mere two paces away. The other was thrice as far, therefore more of a threat. That one held a weapon in his hand already. Alan targeted the closer one. It took two steps: a long one to close the distance, a short one to generate power. He plowed into this man, forearm against neck, but he wasn¡¯t at an angle to ram him effectively against a wall. No space to incapacitate him. No time. Only one choice: the gun. Alan whipped its barrel up into the man¡¯s torso as his weight bore the man staggering backward. He pulled the trigger as soon as his finger found it. Nothing happened; not even the click of an empty chamber. The goddamn safety was on? Alan began to worry. His element of surprise had slipped away, and two-on-one was not good odds against professionals. He considered calling to Leah, telling her to stay back, but he stopped himself. If she was smart, she¡¯d know to keep quiet and out of the way. If he called to her, they¡¯d know she was there. The man he¡¯d charged this time was smaller than Alan, but not by a great deal. He¡¯d been steady enough that Alan¡¯s charge hadn¡¯t taken them to the ground. A mixed blessing¨CAlan was confident in his groundwork, but the ground was no place to be when another enemy several paces away had a firearm. The man fought back, brought one arm up to shove against Alan, make some space. The man¡¯s other hand, the important one, reached for a weapon at his leg. Alan dropped the useless handgun¨Cno time to find and turn off the safety¨Cand gut-punched the man, jumping into it with all the strength of his legs. The man doubled over but did not fall, and his fist came up with eight inches of sharp black steel. He slashed blindly at the air, a sweeping slash meant to drive Alan back. Alan stepped into the blow, blocked the arm at the elbow, turned his step into an elbow to the skull, and tore the knife from the man¡¯s loosened grip. A loud cough, and something tugged at Alan¡¯s left shoulder. He heard plaster spray down the hall as a bullet chewed into it. He crouched, used the groaning man¡¯s body as a shield to cover himself from the next few shots, took this opportunity to drive the knife up under his opponent¡¯s ribcage, piercing his heart. The man gasped, his arms flailing feebly, still weak and dizzy from the gut-punch and the knock to the head. Alan wrenched the blade out as the shooter paused to assess the situation. Alan stood, turned, and used the momentum to fling the knife. It was a kind of Bowie knife, not meant for throwing. His aim was sure; the knife struck the final target directly between the eyes. It struck hilt-first. She cursed and clutched at her head with one hand, but the other held out the handgun and sprayed bullets. Alan had begun moving as soon as the knife left his hand. He heaved up the sagging body of the dying man in his arms and charged forward. The woman realized this too late to react effectively. Alan gripped her gun hand with his left; he planted his feet and heaved her about with brute strength, lending the leverage of his other arm to slam her thin body into the floor as he swept her off her feet. She struck the carpet so hard that she bounced, grunting in pain. He straddled her in an instant, pinning her upper arms with his knees. He removed the weapon in her hand and aimed it down the hall at the first man who had been opening the door. That one was slumped against the wall below the cracked crater of his impact, groaning softly, dazed, but not for long. He was still a threat. So was this woman beneath him. The deadliest enemy in combat, he had learned long ago, was overconfidence. It had been shouted at him until it echoed in his dreams. Every living enemy is a threat. Treat every foe as the one that might kill you. If you don¡¯t, they might. And they might regardless. That¡¯s just how combat goes. It was a game for fools, or any who cared to gamble their lives on an activity governed largely by sheer luck. The woman beneath him twisted under his weight. She tried to bring her legs up, to catch them around his torso and leverage him off, but he crouched beyond their reach and showed her the gun in his hand. ¡°Any more?¡± he asked as he took a quick glance up and down the hall. He didn¡¯t sense anyone coming. Leah was quietly peeking around the door of her apartment, glancing at him and the groaning man not five feet away from her. She seemed more curious than afraid. ¡°I said,¡± Alan growled, ignoring Leah for the moment, ¡°are there any more of you?¡± He pressed the silenced barrel of the weapon against the woman¡¯s temple. ¡°Do it,¡± she hissed, glaring up at him. A trickle of blood from where the knife had struck had run into one of her eyes. ¡°Why did you come back?¡± he asked. ¡°Was it for the girl? For me?¡± ¡°Girl¡¯s fucking dead,¡± the woman spat. ¡°So¡¯re you. And me.¡± She meant Kaitlyn. And she didn¡¯t seem to know who he was. He certainly didn¡¯t recognize her, nor any of her friends. The woman closed her eyes and lay her head back down against the carpet as though resting. She even looked strangely peaceful. ¡°Just pull the trigger,¡± she muttered. ¡°We¡¯re all fucking dead. Goddamn mad scientist fucked us all.¡± This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. Alan did consider pulling the trigger. He didn¡¯t like the idea of leaving her alive behind him. Able to follow, to take vengeance. On the other hand, he was only going to the roof. The noise he¡¯d been hearing for the past ten minutes, that slamming, grunting noise, came again. It was louder than before; it shook the floor, made the lights flicker. This time it sounded like¡­what? Like a wall being broken through somewhere on the floor below. Sitting as he was atop the woman, he felt her breath catch. She was afraid. And Leah was still there, peeking around the door. That decided the matter. He couldn¡¯t shoot someone in front of her. ¡°Look,¡± he said. She opened her eyes. He held the gun and the knife so she could see them both. ¡°I didn¡¯t miss with the knife. I won¡¯t miss with this.¡± He wiggled the gun. ¡°Don¡¯t follow us. Don¡¯t try anything. We¡¯re just leaving.¡± ¡°That¡¯s what we were trying to do,¡± she said, and her voice broke a little. She blinked, and Alan saw wetness in her eyes as well as blood. ¡°Would¡¯ve just¡­let you go.¡± She slumped, limp and defeated. Alan checked her thoroughly for weapons. She had a knife of her own, but was otherwise clean. He motioned for Leah to come join him. She hurried down the hall, pausing only to stare at the corpse heaped in a blood-soaked circle of carpet. Alan stood, aware as he did so that his own hands were red with blood. He wanted to wash them off, but that was not what mattered right now. He grabbed his duffel bag and backed away from the woman on the floor. She reached a hand up to touch the place on her forehead where his knife had struck, but did not move apart from that. Down the hall, the first man finally began to stagger to his feet, grasping at his broken ribs. Leah led the way to the stairs. Alan backed the entire way with an eye on the two OI agents. Another sound came when they reached the door to the stairwell. It was a deep, rumbling growl. A lion, but deeper, and so loud that they heard it clearly from the next floor. He led Leah up the concrete steps, stopping for a moment one floor up to retrieve a towel from the duffel bag and wipe most of the blood from his hands and forearms. The stairwell was misty with that peculiar fog. It was thick and cohesive, like smoke or steam rather than the haze of regular fog, and it swirled about them in an unsettling way as they ascended. He wondered about what the woman had said. Did she mean that they had been deserting? He had attacked at once, convinced that anyone in an October Industries coat meant him harm. But what if he and Leah could have simply walked past them? But then, why had they returned to the apartment? He pushed these thoughts from his mind. No use worrying about them now. That was when he saw the figure on the landing up above. The duffel bag hit the floor, his gun out in an instant, his body in-between the woman and Leah. But she wasn¡¯t there. Nothing was there but a vaguely humanoid clump of the fog. Leah clung tightly to his leg. ¡°What is it?¡± she whispered. Alan blinked at the spot where he had seen her. Rebecca Carter. It had been her. Had his eyes been playing tricks? His imagination carrying him away? If so, it was a novel experience. Alan¡¯s imagination had never carried him away like this before. He shook his head, scanned the stairs a final time, and resumed their ascent, now with more haste. Another half-minute and they were at the top. Alan had to break the lock on the roof-access door, which proved more troublesome than he would have liked. An excited gasp from Leah made him turn partway through this work. She was staring, wide-eyed and smiling, at several creatures flying in a cluster further down the stairwell. They were dragonflies, huge blue ones, and they left glittering trails in the air as they swept back and forth, chasing each other. Suddenly, they were gone. Just puffs of vapor, drifting and swirling, dispersing down the stairwell. He and Leah looked at each other. Alan could only imagine that his own expression was one of incredulity, but Leah¡¯s was a mask of fascination. ¡°Dragonflies,¡± she informed him. Alan wanted to respond, but found a lack of words. What would Eric Walker say to his sister? ¡°Better keep that turtle close,¡± he said, giving the stuffed turtle in her arms a poke. She nodded vigorously and held the turtle up for him to see. ¡°It is a giant monster turtle. Its name is Short. It will protect me.¡± She demonstrated by making the turtle growl at him. He held up his hands in surrender and turned back to the door. Another minute and he had it open. And then they were out, stepping from the chilly stairwell into the cool damp fog that obscured vision beyond twenty or thirty feet. The top of this apartment building was in a cloud. ¡°Careful,¡± he said to Leah as he made his way to the center of the rooftop, duffel bag in one hand and handgun of unknown make in the other. He came to a broad space in amongst the ventilation shafts, the HVAC units, the many assorted pipes and chimneys. Leah followed close behind him, looking around with nervous curiosity. ¡°Mr. Sheppard,¡± she said, ¡°I think that¨C¡± A roar interrupted her. It was a strange, hoarse, gargling kind of roar, the likes of which Alan had never heard. And it was very, very close. Alan dropped the duffle bag and spun, gun outstretched, toward the sound. A shape descended from above, and the rooftop of the building shuddered with the impact of its landing. Alan thought he heard the infrastructure groan, threatening to delegate the duty of ¡®rooftop¡¯ to a floor one story lower. The fog swirled around the shape with a flap of its wings, clearing enough for him to make out the huge batlike wings, the round gray-green turtle-like body the size of a tank, the long neck terminating in a head as large as Alan himself, the flipper-like appendages supporting its weight. ¡°What the hell?¡± Alan whispered. Leah said something too, an awed whisper, something like, ¡°giant monster turtle.¡± It bore down upon them without hesitation. The practical necessities of survival overruled Alan¡¯s disbelief. He snatched up Leah and sprinted to a nearby cluster of pipes and vents. ¡°Hide,¡± he said. He ran from her, across the path of the oncoming monstrosity, shouting to make himself obvious. It worked. The thing roared again as it approached, crushing the vents and all other obstacles in its path. Metal groaned, squealed, snapped; escaping steam hissed. The grainy surface of the rooftop shuddered as the beast dragged itself forward on clawed car-sized appendages. Somehow, impossibly, the evidence pointed to the reality of this creature. Treat every enemy as the one that might kill you. Right. No problem. He was marginally faster than the monster, and when he had gained a few seconds of ground, he turned and pumped five rounds into its neck and head. The creature paused, turned its monstrous reptilian head to get a better look at him. It didn¡¯t seem to be injured by the shots. Perhaps the noise had given it pause. Alan reached down with his left hand and drew the black knife, aware that this would probably be useless if bullets didn¡¯t work. But he had to stall. He had to tell Leah to get back down the stairs, where this thing couldn¡¯t follow. And he needed to warn Rebecca. They could work out a new¡ª He darted to the side as the monster rushed in with a surprising burst of speed. Alan mounted a ventilation unit in two quick leaps, pivoted, and jumped past the monster, back along its left side. It tried to track his movements, but he had been right¨Cit couldn¡¯t turn quickly. If he could stay behind it¡­ The wing caught him off-guard as it swept down from the grainy fog and clapped him into an awkward sprawl against a ledge, the very ledge which marked the edge of the rooftop. There was no railing. Now it had time to turn. Now it was facing him. Now it was approaching. Alan rolled to his knees, then crouched up onto his feet. He¡¯d dropped the gun; he had only the knife. He would try to get inside its reach next, right up where the neck emerged from the shell. Maybe it was weak in there. Another sound emerged from the fog above. It was a high-pitched whirring like one of Heidi¡¯s computers malfunctioning and running too fast, too hot, filling the computer room with an acrid smell. The noise built up to a scream in the space of a second, and a blue column of light pierced down from above, directly upon the front end of the turtle monster as though a helicopter had caught it in a searchlight. The monster screamed, but only for a moment. Its head crumpled and blackened, burning to a crisp in fast-forward. The surface on which it stood melted away as the blue light vanished, and the monster¡¯s weight began to drag it down into the floor below. But as it fell, between one glance and the next, it was gone, replaced by a dense mass of vaporous fog that dissipated over the next few seconds. Alan crouched low, perfectly still, trying desperately to think. What new threat was this? That blue beam had October Industries tech written all over it. A machine descended from the fog above, a sleek silvery vessel as large as a city bus, its streamlined body flanked by four dimly glowing spheres where wings would normally be. It came rapidly down through the fog, generating no wind as a descending helicopter would. A hatch opened in its side only a moment after landing. Through the hatch came Rebecca Carter. A minute later they were together: Alan Sheppard, Rebecca Carter, and Leah Walker, safe in Riley McFinn¡¯s technological marvel of a jet. They sat in the craft¡¯s comfortable lounge compartment. Leah hugged that stuffed turtle and bounced nervously on a chair as Alan and Rebecca spoke standing near the open hatch. ¡°Where is Kaitlyn, Alan?¡± asked Rebecca Carter. She was trying to keep her voice steady, but was only marginally succeeding. Alan remained silent, thinking how best to say it. ¡°Where?¡± Rebecca whispered, the cool expression on her face betrayed by the twitching muscles of her jaw and the tears she blinked back. She already suspected. She already knew. Why else would Alan be here without Kate? Why would he have her burn phone? ¡°Rebecca,¡± he said, and the tone of his voice was all it took for Rebecca Carter to sob once, loudly, and bring a hand up to her mouth. She bit the knuckles of that hand so hard that Alan feared she would hurt herself. ¡°Listen. We¡­¡± ¡°Where?¡± she shouted, composure lost. Alan took a deep breath. He had feared this moment ever since he¡¯d first seen the body of Kaitlyn Carter. He had tried to prepare himself, had tried to assemble a comforting way to put it. But there was no comforting way. He knew that. What if Heidi had died? How would he like to be told? ¡°Dead,¡± he said. ¡°Fallen. From this building. It was quick, I¡¯m sure.¡± Rebecca sobbed again, and was joined by a smaller but similar noise. It was Leah, watching them, now also crying, cramming her face against the stuffed turtle. Before Alan knew what was happening, Rebecca had caught him in a tight hug. He gently placed his arms around her, surprised to feel the layers of muscle there on her quivering back, wiry and hard. He did not require this evidence for her surprising strength, as her grip around him felt less like a hug and more as though she were attempting to crush his ribcage. Leah, not to be left out, hopped off her chair, abandoning the turtle, and seized one of Alan¡¯s legs. She did not even come up to his waist. After a long interval of quiet, gasping sobs that cut Alan as much as if they had been agonized wails, Rebecca regained some self-control. ¡°W¡­was it¡­them?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± he said. ¡°I wasn¡¯t¡­it had already happened when I arrived.¡± ¡°You saw her?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± he whispered. ¡°She fell.¡± This made Leah start crying again. Rebecca muttered something that sounded like a string of profanities with the word ¡°Riley¡± mixed in. She straightened, released Alan from her death-grip, and wiped her tears. Alan marveled at her composure. It was temporary, no doubt. Yet it allowed her to do what had to be done, to store away the grief for later. Alan wondered whether he could react this way if he learned that Heidi had been killed. A phone in his pocket vibrated. Kate¡¯s burn phone. Alan removed it almost reverently, moved to look at it, then held it out to Rebecca. She took it with a trembling hand. She swiped it on, read the message. Her expression became one of rage. She flung the phone back to Alan, who caught it out of the air. The message read: ¡°There is a safe place. You must meet with Amber Jane Eddison, Michael Whyte, and Dwayne Hartman. Do not lose hope.¡ªChristmas.¡± The open hatch closed, and the aircraft ascended into the air. ¡°You say it¡¯s flying itself?¡± asked Alan. Rebecca was too angry to respond. ¡°¡®Do not lose hope?¡¯¡± she spat. ¡°Just who the hell¡­¡± Alan quietly pocketed the phone and moved toward the front of the plane. He took Leah¡¯s hand and brought her with him. Probably best to leave Rebecca Carter in peace for a while. He checked his own phone, where his last message from Heidi was an assurance of her safety, as was the most recent message from ¡°Christmas.¡± Heidi and Eric were safe for now, it told him. Although Alan had some objection to mysterious individuals directing his actions, he could think of no reason not to meet up with others, particularly Michael Whyte. He could guess who Amber Jane Eddison was, but couldn¡¯t place Dwayne Hartman. He and Leah entered the pilot¡¯s compartment at the forefront of the jet. Sure enough, it was empty. Nothing but gray fog outside the windows. He set Leah in one chair and collapsed into the other. ¡°Please fasten your seatbelts,¡± said a professional female voice, making Alan jump. ¡°We will be accelerating shortly.¡± Alan saw that he still had spots of blood on his hands and arms. He hadn¡¯t done such a good job of cleaning it on the stairs. He might have smeared some on the back of Rebecca¡¯s shirt. But at the moment, he couldn¡¯t bring himself to care. Chapter 17 Chapter 17 Michael Whyte Northeast, to Montana. He had stopped at an ATM three towns over from the one where Jim had fainted. He had bought a road map, a lot of water, enough food for several days, 10 gallons of gasoline in plastic bins, and all the paper/crayons/markers/cheap little plastic trays of watercolors that he could find. Someone had sent him a link to an application called CHIME shortly after his conversation with Dwayne and Jacob. Michael stayed long enough to find wifi, download CHIME, and call AJ before driving on. His efforts to contact his mother¡¯s assisted living facility, or his office, went nowhere. Jim did not wake up. Michael stayed off of the main roads. He didn¡¯t play any music. He was occupied with marveling at the broken sky, and thinking, and praying. As for the sky, it began to leak a thin, pale mist. The blue dome overhead was soon spun with wispy cobwebs, a peculiar pattern of cirrus clouds. Jimothy would not wake up. He was in some kind of coma, and this after he had shown that he could¡­what, make colors out of his hands? And according to AJ, Elizabeth was the same way. Had Elizabeth made colors before she had fallen unconscious? He¡¯d forgotten to ask about that, and he didn¡¯t feel up to calling AJ again. But in the silence and solitude of his gold Alero, humming as it traveled along a winding desert highway, he allowed himself thoughts about himself and AJ. Together, perhaps finding out what had happened to their siblings. ¡°I really did like her,¡± he told Jimothy, reclined in the passenger¡¯s seat. ¡°I do,¡± he corrected himself after a moment. ¡°She¡¯s something special, you know?¡± Jimothy would agree; he thought everyone was special. Thoughts of AJ, of his mother, of Dwayne, of everyone he had known back home, all swirled together into an agitated haze. In the midst of it all, Michael focused himself on the simple act of driving. At least he had a destination. Dwayne Hartman. That was the goal; that was the bright horizon toward which Michael aimed. Everything would be better when he found Dwayne. Jimothy began talking in his sleep after a couple of hours. When this first happened, Michael at once pulled over onto the roadside and tried for several minutes to wake his brother. Jim would not wake. Michael found a notebook and tried to copy out what Jim was saying. Michael was pretty sure the first words he¡¯d heard were ¡°Hi, Callie.¡± But though he listened carefully, he caught only a few disjointed words and phrases. ¡°Museum¡­so many questions¡­interesting!...colorful.¡± He eventually gave it up and went back to driving. But he kept an ear open for Jimothy¡¯s sleep-talking, and every once in a while he caught a word. Once, he was certain he heard Elizabeth¡¯s name. That mist joined up in the sky, muting the sun, and it descended to the earth. A point came when it was a solid plane overhead, which Michael drove through on hilltops and then descended from again. But it came down like a sheet, and it stayed. It was everywhere: solid silvery-gray fog. That evening Michael realized that he was lost. He thought he was still on the correct northbound highway, but it was now impossible to be sure. He missed road signs, and the compass app on his phone had stopped working. They should have passed a small town where he¡¯d been planning on spending the night, but he never saw it. He drove for an hour without passing any town at all. At last, Michael resigned himself to a night in the car with Jim. He pulled off the road into a shallow ditch. He worried about Jim. Would Jim be getting dehydrated? He hadn¡¯t gone to the bathroom all day. Michael tried pouring water into Jim¡¯s open mouth, but Jim didn¡¯t swallow and only began coughing in his sleep. Michael put a blanket over him in case he got cold. Still no music. He wasn¡¯t in the mood. He dug through his bags for a book before realizing he wasn¡¯t in the mood for that, either. The driver¡¯s seat reclined to a somewhat comfortable position. Neither hot nor cold, he lay there for a long time and stared at the fuzzy grey ceiling of the car. It had a curious houndstooth texture he had never really noticed before. Photography. Michael had given up that dream for Jim. He didn¡¯t regret it. He did not. ¡®Professional photographer,¡¯ was not necessarily incompatible with ¡®caretaker of autistic teenage brother,¡¯ but they didn¡¯t go easily together. Michael had wanted to travel. National Geographic, Planet Earth, et-cetera. And anyway, his camera in the past few years had increasingly seemed a feeble tool in comparison to Jimothy¡¯s paintbrush. He didn¡¯t know how long he stared at the ceiling because his phone was glitching out and wouldn¡¯t display the time properly. The car¡¯s digital clock was the same. But eventually he straightened out and reached into the back for his camera. His hand first landed on the mysterious device Alan Sheppard had sent to him. He shoved it down between the seats with a contemptuous grunt and seized the camera and flipped through his most recent pictures. Even the ones from just a couple days ago seemed unreal, from a distant time. He selected the ¡°Paintings¡± folder, which contained his shots of all of Jim¡¯s paintings. Most. Most of Jim¡¯s paintings. Apparently, he had missed one. Apparently, an original had found its way to AJ¡¯s hands in Pennsylvania. A strange pang went through him at the thought of AJ, and he sighed. Now, he thought, was probably the worst timing for that sort of thing. Being in love. Something moved in the fog outside. He jolted upright and swung the camera around like a defensive weapon as he had done with Ezekiel. The camera flashed and shuttered as he accidentally took a picture. The grainy fog outside the car swirled violently, but not before Michael saw AJ in it. He stumbled out the door and into the fog, still gripping the camera. He kept a hand on the open door as he peered about in an attempt to see or hear anything nearby. ¡°AJ?¡± he called. No response. He had imagined it, dozing off. The fog itself caught his attention. He hadn¡¯t paid it much heed before, but something was strange about it. It had a curious texture. And it moved strangely in the wind¡­ What wind? Michael backed up to his car, out of the fog, and only then realized that the mist made a little bubble a few yards around his vehicle. Something else caught his eye in the periphery of his vision, a familiar half-formed shape. ¡°Hazel?¡± Michael asked. But no dog came cannon-balling toward him, barking and frenzied with happiness. ¡°¡­anyone?¡± he said, his voice croaking a bit as he spoke. His own words sounded small and insignificant here. The fog muffled them. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. No one responded, yet Michael was sure something was there, watching him, listening to him. ¡°¡­God?¡± Still nothing Michael didn¡¯t know what else was going on, but he was still sure he had seen AJ. He opened his camera to check the most recent picture. There she was, off-center and blurry because of the accidental shot, yet easily recognizable. She was smiling, wearing the yellow shirt with the tan jacket that he¡¯d first seen her in. The background was all gray fog, and so was the bottom part of the image where AJ¡¯s midsection should have been. Michael stared at this picture. It made his skin crawl. He felt cold. What was going on here? He leaned down to check on Jimothy (still there, unmoved) and felt a powerful urge to just get in the car, forget the mist. He would, he decided, but there was one thing he wanted to try first. He raised the camera and took a picture of the mist. It billowed as though a giant¡¯s invisible fist had passed through it. Then nothing. He selected the picture of AJ and located the superimpose function used for double-exposure shots. He snapped a picture of her, overlaying it onto the gray mist. And there she was, the top half of AJ. She laughed playfully at him, and her golden hair faded smoothly into the silver vapor. Within two seconds, she dissolved into the swirling mist. Michael backed up and sat in the driver¡¯s seat, his feet on the ground outside. He flipped through his camera¡¯s folders in a daze and opened up Jim¡¯s paintings. He randomly selected one, activated the superimpose function, took aim at the mist and snapped another picture. Again, some invisible force disturbed the mist, and again it coalesced into something new. This time it was one of Jim¡¯s paintings, a strange and colorful flower, curled about with deadly black thorns. It was in motion; the flower bloomed, its petals showered all about, withering and dying in the blink of an eye. The flower fell apart into the mist, but not before Michael caught one of the brilliant blue petals in his hand. He felt it transition from soft flower to cool mist. Michael swung his legs back into the car and slammed the door. He leaned back once more and stared at the ceiling of the car. ¡°Jim,¡± he said, ¡°now would be a good time to wake up. Anytime, now, would be okay.¡± It took a long time for him to sleep, but eventually he fell into an uneasy slumber. His dreams were chaotic and confusing. In one dream, he saw himself and Jimothy in the car. In one dream, some monstrous beast named Black was chasing them. In one he saw Jimothy, alone in a dark place, holding something bright to keep the evil shadows at bay. In one he saw AJ on a sunny green hillside, soaking wet, with a few other people. It took him some time to realize when he had awoken. Slowly, with an easy stretch and a yawn, he raised his seat back up to driving height. He checked to make sure Jim was okay. Jim was fine, but his passenger-side window was not. A network of cracks spiderwebbed from a fist-sized hole near the middle of the window. The cracks were strangely angular, honeycomb-patterned. The mist was still there, everywhere, outside. Michael shook the broken glass off of Jim¡¯s blanket and double-checked his brother. Just sleeping, unharmed. Michael stepped out of the car and around to the ditch to relieve himself. He made sure not to step into the fog. He watched it with bleary sleep-filled eyes. Shapes formed at the edges of his vision. At first he turned his head quickly back and forth to catch them, but every time they were only strange misty forms. He returned to his seat, closed the door, and was rummaging for the road map when he heard a familiar sound nearby in the fog. He stopped, listened. Thock The shape of a small ball rose up outside his window, paused at the apex, then fell back down with another soft thock. Michael watched it bounce a few times. It began tapping against his window on the way up. He started the car, put it in drive, and pulled back out onto the road, leaving behind the ball. He had driven several miles, at a careful and easy 40 miles-per-hour in the fog, when he saw something flash past his driver¡¯s-side window. At almost the same time, he heard a faint thock on the road outside. He tried increasing his speed and soon confirmed that the ball could keep up even at 60. He parked at a fork in the road to consult his road map. Only when he had retrieved the map and begun unfolding it did he realize with a start that he had just parked his car in the middle of the road. In this fog, someone could easily not notice him until it was too late to avoid a collision. But¡­there had been no other vehicles, had there? None at all, since the fog had descended. He hadn¡¯t even realized until now, and it made his skin crawl. He¡¯d been avoiding the highways, true, but he ought to have seen someone. It was still a paved road. He checked the map and was forced to make a guess as to his location. He thought he should have passed a town yesterday, yet he didn¡¯t recall seeing one in the fog. There should have been a turnoff¡­the road he thought he was on had several forks, and he could be at any of them. He was chewing his tongue and puzzling over this when the ball struck the windshield of the car. It rebounded onto the road, then jumped back up against the windshield. It bounced over to the left branch of the fork, barely visible in the fog. Michael cautiously rolled down his window. The sound of the bouncing ball became more rapid, then slower. He watched as the ball came toward him again from the fog, then back to the road running to Michael¡¯s left. When it returned again, Michael was sure of it. It was trying to get his attention. It was trying to direct him down the left fork of the road. It was trying to show him the way. Michael, consulting the map once more, decided that left was probably the best choice at any of the forks, regardless. Shapes congealed in the fog¨Cbarely visible, almost recognizable. Michel sighed, said a prayer, and pulled out down the left fork of the road. Chapter 18 Chapter 18 Banana Quest IM: Greetings, everyone! EW: isaac shut the fcuk up were tryin to sleep EW: weve only been here like seven hours IM: Ok cool, I was about to ask about that IM: Apparently all our moons have different day/night cycles IM: except mine haha IM: and nobody keeps track of time in a way that corresponds to Earth IM: But I knew you¡¯d be keeping track EW: dont care bro EW: well fuck im awake now EW: thanks KC: hey guys! EW: yo EE: I am here as well. Also just awoken. IM: Well SORRY everyone! I don¡¯t know how you guys are still sleeping EW: you need to chill bro KC: is Heidi here? HS: I¡¯m here. IM: So our first order of business: status reports IM: We all okay? EE: Incorrect. EW: all cool over here bro KC: incorrect? HS: Why is he in charge? EE: Our first order of business is establishing contact with Jimothy. EW: just roll with it heidi EW: also yeah bro cmon dont forget jim KC: yeah Isaac! IM: I didn¡¯t forget Jim guys! Chill! IM: We just don¡¯t have a way to contact him EE: We know. We have to make sure that he is okay. EW: any ideas people? IM: I already launched a probe KC: A PROBE?!?! IM: Yeah to his moon IM: at least I think I did; my place is confusing IM: also haunted EW: yo kate any way to get to jims moon? KC: I only know about the doors! EW: meaning... KC: if you get someone else¡¯s door at your place, you can go there! EE: How does one acquire a door? KC: I do not know :\ IM: So with all this in mind... IM: I think the best thing to do right now is a *status report* IM: I¡¯ll go first IM: I¡¯m on a satellite and I guess I don¡¯t have a moon, but I do have a bunch of computers and telescopes and lasers and stuff IM: I also started a Helpful Chart IM: let me see if I can get it up here EW: fuckin knew youd be whipping out the charts EE: It was inevitable. KC: I¡¯ll go next! *%_*((()_+{:¡±~:@>(***** *****_**_*__*__*___** >>=~ EW: hmm very interesting KC: Isaac! Stop interrupting IM: Woah, wasn¡¯t me IM: Probably the ghost or something IM: I wasn¡¯t kidding about my space station being haunted IM: ok here it is Isaac¡¯s Chart (1 st iteration)
Symbol Domain Moon Home Angel
Isaac cube space Icarus (void) orbital satellite Charlie (bird)
Jim paintbrush paint probably
Liz flower This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. Callie (lynx)
Kate snowflake sky? Theia (cloud) palace? Navi (butterfly)
Eric heart cardiology
Heidi compass magnets!
IM: I¡¯ll try to make it so you can fill it out or something KC: Isaac you spoiled the surprise, I was about to tell everyone about my moon! >:( EE: Kate it says practically nothing about your moon KC: yeah I guess :p HS: It¡¯s not magnets. KC: it¡¯s called Theia, and I live in a PALACE, although last night I stayed with the Theians who are like BUTTERFLIES!!!! KC: :D KC: actually I think they are sexually dimorphic so the females are like butterflies while the males resemble moths KC: my moon is stormy and windy, and it¡¯s covered in windmills and the flowers are like pinwheels and there¡¯s something scary in the storm and all the butterflies are hiding or still in cocoons because of the wind, and the lightning is colorful! EW: done? KC: yeah! EW: ok sounds cool KC: Liz you go next! EE: My moon is named Sisyphus, the Garden Moon. It lies in perpetual winter. The Yvethians, the natives, correspond physically to various animals. They are referring to me as a hero, although I have done nothing as yet to deserve such a title. I have a large greenhouse complex. EE: Eric? EW: got these big metronomes EW: got a big empty city EW: cryptic graffiti on the walls EW: got a legit fucking final boss dragon EW: got a knockoff lightsaber EW: killed a robot or something last night EW: oh yeah and I guess it¡¯s called phyrrus EW: pyhrus EW: damn it EE: Pyrrhus. KC: don¡¯t worry Eric! EW: ? KC: we will find a way to make sure that Leah is okay! EW: yeah isaac bro i dont suppose you can launch a probe right the fuck out of this place and back to Chicago? IM: I mean, maybe? IM: I¡¯ll check EE: We have yet to comprehend the cosmology of this place. EE: Heidi? KC: Heidi are you there? KC: maybe she is tired HS: I am. IM: Sorry for waking you up HS: was already awake EW: doing what? HS: fighting KC: !!!! KC: are you OK? HS: Orpheus HS: name of moon EW: wait are you fighting like right now? HS: I¡¯m fine HS: please make sure Jimothy is ok HS: have to go EE: Heidi? EW: damn EE: We should find a way to get to Orpheus as well. +**++$¡±+__)_**_*_**_*_*_***+¡±¡°{#( ++(+*++***$¡±>***$(_**_*******_**_* <>:G(+___*-__-__* EW: isaac get your ghost under fucking control man EW: dont see me over here letting frisby play with my phone while im texting IM: Frisby? KC: I am worried about Heidi! <:( EE: She is still in this chat, Kate. KC: oh yeah KC: HEIDI I AM WORRIED ABOUT YOU! KC: be safe okay? IM: Yeah, remember to only take encounters appropriate for your level EW: really bro? IM: I¡¯m serious! EE: So what is next? KC: I have a proposal! EW: woah to who? KC: >:| IM: Let¡¯s hear it KC: I think we should all just find out more about our moons and our homes and stuff KC: and also about Ardia IM: About what? EE: What is Ardia? KC: oh! That¡¯s the planet KC: and the city is called Skywater! IM: What city? KC: the one we all have to go to eventually, and before you ask I don¡¯t know why we have to go there! KC: but I do know that we are kind-of in a story somehow IM: Yeah we¡¯re like characters in a story IM: That¡¯s what Jacob said EW: this is all such bullshit EE: Let us save the editorials for when we possess a better understanding of our situation. IM: I guess we don¡¯t have a choice but to just keep trying to figure stuff out EE: Indeed. Let us reconvene tomorrow. EW: that means different things for each of us IM: Then you start it whenever it¡¯s about time, Mr. Time Guy KC: also let the rest of us know if anyone manages to talk to Jim or find out about the doors! EE: Agreed. IM: All right. Talk to you later EW: k KC: bye! EE: Be careful, everyone. Chapter 19 Chapter 19 Jimothy Jimothy awoke from a strange dream. Light fell like raindrops in a sparkling cascade. The sky shattered like a crystalline shell, and only a misty gray nothingness waited beyond. Michael drove through a desert, tired and afraid. Jimothy slept, asleep in his own dream. Colors dripped down from the bleeding sky like watercolors on a wet canvas. They mingled with each other and became dark. A vaguely familiar orange lizard tried to get his attention. He awoke in his new bed, which didn¡¯t feel right. Too soft. Or maybe not soft enough. He wasn¡¯t sure, except that it was wrong. Something was curled up on the bed next to him, breathing heavily. Hazel! He made a light in the air above him, lightbulb-bright, to illuminate the unfamiliar room. For a moment he forgot where he was, what he had been doing, why he was here, and why he could make a light over his bed just by thinking about it. Bit by bit, he remembered. The sky breaking¡­Mike¡­the Museum, and Elizabeth¡­the lighthouse, the blank world, the crystal, the darkness, the monsters. Thinking about the monsters made him curl up in his bed. No monsters here. No Mike either, though. He closed his eyes and looked at the Line. Everything here: not real. Just a dream. So why hadn¡¯t he woken up? And hadn¡¯t he just been dreaming? Had he ever had a dream within a dream before? Maybe the Line was wrong. He didn¡¯t want to think about that. That possibility frightened him even more than the monsters. Eventually, he got out of bed. This morning was for Jim a parade of inconveniences and discomforts. It was too quiet, but he had neither a means of listening to music nor anyone to speak to. He was cold, but first he had to find the coat closet, and then none of the coats were his and it felt wrong to wear them. He was hungry, so he had to locate the kitchen, find some food, and make himself a sandwich from a pantry containing only basic, unlabeled ingredients. He kept getting distracted by the view outside, visible through the many windows. Was it morning? Afternoon? Midday? He thought morning since he had just woken up, but he couldn¡¯t be sure. No sun in the blank canvas of a world outside. No shadows. No color. No life. He checked the top of the lighthouse. The glass chamber still contained the crystal he had put in there the night before. It turned and sparkled in the air. He needed more. More light for his lighthouse. He needed light to push back the darkness. He needed light to make color. That was obvious, right? With enough light, he could make color rain from the sky like watercolors dripping down wet canvas. Above the light, a lone dark door still stood over the platform of stained glass. This time there was light below the colored glass, making it glow. The door still opened out into the huge empty ocean of air that faded into a misty, neutral distance. He stood in the open doorframe for a while, observing the landscape. Some of the splashes of color he had made the day before still marked that dusty path down below. He thought he could probably make a slide all the way from here down to the ground. Probably. He tested it out by creating a curved green slope, like a playground slide, from the open door all the way to the pale grassy land at the foot of the lighthouse. But he couldn¡¯t make it go that far. The slide faded partway down like a paintbrush running out of paint. He needed more paint to make that slide. He needed more light. ¡°I think I get it,¡± he said. Hazel was rolling around on the stained-glass circles, but Jimothy wasn¡¯t speaking to Hazel. He was talking to his friends, imagining them there with him. ¡°I have to get more light. It¡¯s like a game!¡± He loved games. Jimothy decided to go and see if he could find any more crystals, and he would also look for his friends on the way. He wondered if they had encountered monsters and darkness. He hoped not. Jimothy paused to grab his cane before descending to the dark, empty ground floor of the lighthouse. He stopped to watch the pool of water, but nothing unusual happened. He came to the front door and found it open. Had he closed it the night before? He thought so, but maybe he hadn¡¯t put the board back in place to make sure it stayed shut. He made a light over his head to get a better look around the room. ¡°Whoa,¡± he said. Black marks covered the walls up to a height about as tall as Jimothy. It looked like bad graffiti. If it was writing, Jimothy could not read it. If it was drawing, Jimothy could not tell what it depicted. He didn¡¯t like it either way. He started with the nearest wall and circled the room, visualizing the black marks being erased from the dark stone as though he was covering over them with a paint sprayer. It took only a few minutes, and he fell down only once. Back outside, Hazel joined him as soon as his battered tennis-shoe touched the pale dust of the path. Jimothy checked and double-checked, but saw no shadows. Time to find some light¨Cor better yet, one of his friends. The leftward path took him toward a line of pale trees. He used his cane to poke rocks, bushes, or random spots on the path, bestowing color upon them. Spots and swirls of color, patterns both symmetrical and chaotic, shapes and images, complex designs and gradients¨Cif he could imagine it, he could make it appear on the blank canvas of his surroundings. Except for Hazel, much to the dog¡¯s apparent amusement when Jimothy tried to colorize him. A difference that Jimothy noticed between the old and new Hazel was that the old one got tired. Eventually. Angel-Hazel could run and run and run all day long. He would stop and rest occasionally, panting like a normal dog, but he rested only out of a desire to do so, not out of necessity. Jimothy had still not seen him eat or drink anything, but Hazel seemed okay. But then again, Jimothy had to keep reminding himself, this was all a dream. Or something. Not real. The clouds distracted him. They appeared sometimes as pale gray forms against the blank sky, and sometimes as nothing more than faint black cloud-shaped outlines, like blank cutouts against a blank background. He stopped to inspect the trees when he came among them. Papery white bark over gray trunks, pale leaves rustling in a breeze. The haze of distance closed in more heavily here. Ahead, scattered trees dotted the next few rolling hills before it all faded to nothing. Hazel, white against white, flew like a cartoon character back and forth over the visible hills. He did not kick up enormous clouds of dust behind him, but it seemed like he should have. Jimothy created a green ball, and they played Hazel¡¯s favorite game, the one where he chases after a thrown object, captures it, and then engages in desperate evasive maneuvers until he forgets what he was doing. Jimothy learned that he could create an object of light and maintain its existence as long as he kept thinking about it. Maintaining concentration like this proved to be surprisingly difficult, but that was okay because it didn¡¯t matter much to Hazel, after the ball was thrown, whether it continued to exist. After an hour of walking, Jimothy entered the ruins of an ancient city. Crumbling gray blocks of stone, a lighter shade than his lighthouse, spread about in heaps and mounds through the sparse forest. Here and there a wall stood, or a small square structure. He passed weathered statues so marred and defaced by time or monsters as to be unrecognizable. The path ended at a standing wall two stories tall, which angled away to the left and right. Jimothy passed through a square aperture in this wall and carefully stepped through the piles of broken stone rubble within. This structure had been built in the shape of a decagon. It had ten sides of equal length, most of them standing. Something of color glittered on the floor, small pieces of glass fallen from a large window on the far wall. Bits and pieces of stained glass remained in the window frame there. It had been a large image, whatever it was. Most of the glass reflected only shades of grey, like everything else, but a few pieces displayed surprising color. The more he looked at the scattered glass, the more he saw them: red, green, blue, brown, orange, violet, and more. They looked so beautiful in this world of grayscale, like the shards of a shattered rainbow. They were the first already-colored things he had seen outside his lighthouse. Jimothy cleared away the nearby rubble by making a circular blue wall around him, a few inches off the floor, and expanding it outward until he stood in a large open space. It would not occur to him until later that he had pushed aside many tons of broken stone without even thinking about it. The broken glass scattered all over the floor was supposed to make a picture, and Jimothy wanted to know what it was. He began putting it together. He moved the pieces using tiny clips of light rather than his fingers. One after another, shard by shard. He began with the big ones, pieces the size of small plates. He filled them in, piece by piece, bit by bit. Jimothy understood, albeit only because other people told him, that he was excellent at putting together puzzles. So excellent, in fact, that Michael advised him to not do it in front of strangers. But no one was watching him here. He stopped after some time because his neck ached from looking down and because a dull throbbing in the back of his skull warned him that a headache would develop if he continued his present activities. Imagining the little bits of light moving the glass shards with such precision proved tiring. He stepped back to note his progress. He had recreated about a third of the entire stained-glass window. It depicted a series of figures standing below a strange sky. The figures, of which he had completed four, or about half, gazed up at this sky. They were the source of the color which he had seen at first. Each of the figures stood as a dark outline with shards of color glinting throughout. The sky looked like nighttime with stars, but also contained a bright object like a sun. But the sun looked more like a cluster of crystals, and thick rings encircled it in all directions. Jimothy thought it would look pretty cool as a complete window of stained-glass, with light shining through as intended. He decided to come and finish it later. Hopefully the monsters in the dark would not mess it up. Thinking about that made him look around to check if any shadows were spreading. Not yet. Jimothy retreated back through the ruins. He found them more interesting every time he stopped to look. At first, they had seemed similar to ruins found on Earth, but closer inspection revealed oddities. Some doorways were triangular or pentagonal, some too large for a normal person and others too small, some set in walls angled up or down. Jimothy saw many instances of decagons and the number ten, and he became more and more certain that there was supposed to be color here. He saw broken mosaics and ancient frescoes on some floors and walls. They looked like color photos that had been rendered in grayscale on a computer, rather than art done intentionally in grays. There was a difference, and Jimothy could tell. It all made him a little sad, and even the antics of Hazel could not lift his mood as he wandered through the ruins. People had lived here, and now there were no people to be seen. Their art had faded past the point of understanding. Worse, everything had been stripped of its color, as though some cosmic vampire had come along, latched its fangs onto this place, and drained it dry of all life and joy. Jimothy tried to put these thoughts out of his mind, but the idea of a vampiric entity draining the life and color from things stuck in his mind and made his hair stand on end. The shadows had not come yet, but he kept looking back over his shoulder just in case. He found a strange door near the edge of the ruins. He noticed it because it looked a bit like the big black door at the top of his lighthouse, and just like that one, it stood all alone, without a wall around it. A path led to this new door, which stood like a monolith in the center of a hexagonal white platform. The word ¡°Skywater¡± was inscribed in the stone at the base of the door, just like the ¡°Welcome¡± on their door mat back home. Jimothy thought that ¡°Skywater¡± was probably not the same thing as ¡°Welcome,¡± though. This door was featureless black stone except for the latch of dark metal and a silver hexagon inlaid in the middle at about eye level with Jimothy. He had to shake the latch around before it would open. It opened outward onto a scene of pale gray ruins in a white environment. Jimothy leaned around the doorframe to check and make sure that what he saw there was the same. Yeah, it was the same. This door led nowhere. He closed it, thought for a moment, and then took the white hexagon from his pocket, where it had been all night. (He remembered turning in his sleep because it was digging into his leg.) All of the six symbols glowed softly in a different color, except for the compass, which glowed black. Jimothy held this up against the silver hexagon engraved onto the door. A perfect fit! As soon as it touched, the black door shivered. Light shone through the cracks between the door and the doorframe. Then, nothing. Jimothy opened the door again and looked through. A bustling street full of unexpected life and color momentarily stunned him. People shouted and laughed; animals neighed, barked, trumpeted; carts wheeled past blazing with vibrant fabrics; an array of smells both delicious and bizarre flooded his nostrils; a wave of warm humidity rolled over him. He closed the door. The smells remained, but the sound disappeared entirely. Just to be sure, he looked around the side of the doorframe again. Still nothing behind it. Light glimmered around the edges of the door. He opened it again, just a crack, and peeked through. The same street, thronged with life and color. Jimothy saw a creature a bit taller than himself, its navy skin striped with turquoise, fins growing from its head. It wore a heavy maroon robe despite the heat, and it examined a writhing clump of pinkish matter held up in one clawed hand. Jimothy watched as the blue creature ate the squirming thing in a single shark-like bite. The turquoise stripes on its skin shimmered with colors, and its bulging white eyes flooded with gold. It smiled a sharp, toothy smile and turned to look at Jimothy as though it had noticed it was being watched. Jimothy shut the door. A frightening thought struck him. What if this door stayed open? What if that blue thing¨Cor any of the others there on the street¨Ccould just walk right in? Well, that could be dangerous, but it could also be helpful. He might even make some new friends! And that blue guy, he looked a little weird, but he had been smiling. Maybe he was friendly. Maybe he was having a good day and just wanted to say hi. Jimothy thought for a moment about venturing through the door. It certainly looked more lively and colorful than his moon, but¡­maybe it was a bit too lively and colorful? And after all, even if this gray landscape made him a bit lonely and sad, it was his , and it was his job to take care of the lighthouse. He needed to do that. He needed to find more light. Who would do that if he got stuck in this other place? ¡°What do you think, Hazel?¡± Jimothy asked, not actually knowing whether Hazel was anywhere nearby. The dog appeared at the sound of his name and pawed at the door, excited. Of course he¡¯d be excited to go to a place like that. So many things to chase! That could be another problem. In the end, it was the smell of food that decided it for him. He opened the door and stepped through into the bright humidity, and he made sure to swing it shut again behind him. He didn¡¯t like the idea of strangers messing with the lighthouse. The door on this side had a wall to live in, a broad wall with a mural on it. The mural on this wall depicted a scene similar to the one he had been putting together out of the glass shards: ten figures standing in a line. The city distracted him from this comparison almost at once. Jimothy searched but did not see the blue person in the maroon robe. There was only a mad cacophony of noise, sound, color, life. He began to wander, and he marked his trail now and then with blue lines on the floor for fear of getting lost. He planned to remove the lines on his way back so that he wouldn¡¯t be vandalizing the streets. Jimothy saw an old woman in a sparkly plaid shawl with a bunch of small gray pyramids turning in the air over her head. A creature that looked like a sideways table with many hairy legs rolled down the street, careful not to run into anyone. A bunch of clothes were walking around without anyone inside. No sun shone overhead, only a pale light like an extra-bright star. The clouds appeared luminous in themselves, and provided depth to the spectrum of light from above. Two moons peeked from behind them. He accepted all of this easily. A dream, after all. According to the Line, none of this truly existed. But¡­could the Line be wrong? He had imagined a lot of things, but he couldn¡¯t remember ever imagining or dreaming something this complicated. There were too many ideas here, all at once, and too many people and creatures doing things that he was sure he would never think of. A fleet of bright crimson boxes angled through the blue sky overhead, and a long-armed ape-like creature swung from one to the next, moving at far greater speed than anyone in the crowded streets below. In one side-street every other cobblestone was a mirror, but they did not reflect Jimothy as he walked on them, and the sky in each mirror looked different. He passed a shop that smelled like sunlight and silver, which he had never smelled until that moment but nevertheless immediately identified. A person made of fine white sand paused to address him, but it did so by putting its arms together and forming them into a flat plane upon which indented words appeared. It asked him if he knew where the House of Faces was. Jimothy told him no, he didn¡¯t, but he also said that he thought that the other person looked just fine without a face. The sand person paused before continuing on. In one place Jimothy saw the crowd making way for a looming figure wrapped in a dark sheet that smoldered with glimmering embers and trailed a cloud of smoke. This concerned him at first, but the figure stalked on through the crowd undisturbed, and the crowd parting for it seemed to move out of respect rather than distress. Several well-dressed men trailed behind this figure, discussing something of great interest while running calculations on green abacuses. Jimothy enjoyed himself here. Everywhere he looked he found something strange, something new. He soon forgot to mark his path, but he did not forget that which drew him here: food. He checked every open stall on the street for something recognizable as food, which he soon discovered in the form of a round blue fruit being cooked over an open grill. It flattened out over the flames and gave off a scent like cinnamon. But he had forgotten that he had no money. He checked his pockets as he stood near the stand, but they contained nothing except for the pendant. He held it up to get a good look at it in the pale light from overhead. The six little symbols still smoldered with a steady, faintly pulsing light. What did that mean? He tapped the green paintbrush. That was his symbol. It made him feel good to know that he had a symbol there, next to all his friends¡¯ symbols. It was like they were together in a way, even if they were apart. He noticed, after a moment, that the hustle and bustle around him had stilled. Conversation had ceased. An acrid smell reached his nose as one of the fruits began burning on the grill. Everyone was watching him. Someone grabbed his hand and pulled him off his feet. He fell onto a soft green platform of his own imagining, and he looked about in confusion as someone running ahead of him and pulling his arm carted him away through the silent crowd. This person looked like a girl with silver hair, pale skin, and veins of purple and blue running all over her body. He thought she was wearing a tight scaly shirt, but that also might have been her skin. ¡°You¡¯re beautiful!¡± he told her. ¡°Can¡¯t you run?¡± she asked. His arm twisted uncomfortably as she swung him around a corner and continued down an alley. ¡°Um. No, not really. But you¡¯re doing great!¡± In actuality, he was not at all sure she was doing great, because he did not know what she was trying to do, but she seemed stressed out and he wanted to encourage her. Jimothy relaxed as much as he could with his arm acting as a tow rope. He tried to enjoy the sensation of being pulled through the strange city on some kind of floating bed he had made. Where was this girl going in such a hurry? An intricate grid of subtle blue, pink, and purple lines covered her arm. Her fingernails glinted like metal in the daylight. And he was pretty sure she was wearing a shirt. He decided to believe this, anyway, because otherwise her torso would be naked. After a few minutes, she stopped, panting. She had taken them to a small empty courtyard, hidden away down a series of back alleys. Jimothy made the bed disappear but forgot to do anything else. He fell down onto hard-packed clay, where he landed with a grunt. ¡°Uh, hi,¡± he said. He didn¡¯t get up from the ground because he found it comfortable. He looked up at the stranger, who returned his gaze with eyes of solid silver. He couldn¡¯t decipher her expression. ¡°I¡¯m Jimothy,¡± he continued. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± ¡°Niri,¡± she said. ¡°What is wrong with you?¡± Her voice was soft, high-pitched. ¡°Oh,¡± said Jimothy. This was normal. ¡°I have, uh, cerebral palsy and autism. So I fall down a lot and sometimes have trouble figuring stuff out.¡± He almost added ¡®sorry,¡¯ but Elizabeth had once gotten really mad at him for apologizing about all that. But he thought he should add something, so he said, ¡°I like to paint.¡± ¡°Cereb¡­what?¡± ¡°Nice to meet you, Niri.¡± ¡°Wh¨Cyou too¨CI meant, why were you just standing there looking at your key?¡± ¡°My key?¡± ¡°What are you doing here? Where did you come from?¡± ¡°I just, uh, came through a door¡­¡± ¡°From where?¡± He thought about this. ¡°High¡­perion?¡± He pushed himself up to a sitting position and looked around. ¡°Hey, have you seen¨C¡± The object of his query blindsided him, knocking him back to the ground. Jimothy laughed and tried to scratch Hazel as the dog spasmed with excitement in his arms. ¡°Well¡­here.¡± She stood in front of him and offered him her hand. He accepted it and let her help him to his feet. Her hand was cool and soft and scaly, like a snake. She gave him his cane, and also one of the fruits he had been trying to buy. She barely came up to his chin. She looked young, maybe his age, although it was hard to tell. The thought came to him again that this person was both interesting and beautiful in appearance, but he recalled Eric¡¯s warning about telling random girls that they were pretty. He had already done that, though. ¡°Why did you pull me away?¡± he asked her. ¡°Skywater can be¡­dangerous,¡± she said. ¡°Anyway, sorry about this.¡± ¡°About what?¡± Hazel growled. Several hulking figures slouched out from nearby doorways. They were of several fascinating races, they all held strange objects, and they looked very serious about something. ¡°That key is very valuable,¡± Niri told him. ¡°Don¡¯t resist, and you won¡¯t get hurt.¡± ¡°What key?¡± ¡°That key!¡± She pointed at the hexagon which he now held in the same hand as the blue fruit. ¡°What¨C¡± He almost asked what it was a key to, but then he remembered using it to open the door back in the ruins. ¡°Oh! Well, okay, if it¡¯s valuable you can borrow¡­but wait, I might need this to get back.¡± And what was this about getting hurt? Who was going to get hurt? Why? Hazel barked. Jimothy saw that the assortment of interesting people who had appeared had covered the exits and were now closing in. Their various outlandish appearances distracted him, but he now thought that the things they carried were weapons of some kind. He suddenly understood. ¡°Don¡¯t worry!¡± he told Niri. ¡°Hazel will protect us!¡± He grabbed her hand and turned to face their assailants. They charged; Hazel disappeared. Six attackers ran at Jim. Three of them disappeared in quick successive flashes of white light. A plane of solid blue light swept the others away with such force that the stone building which stopped their flight shuddered at their impacts. Jimothy squeezed Niri¡¯s hand in fear. ¡°Oh man,¡± he said. He turned to look at her. ¡°Are you okay?¡± he asked. ¡°I¡­¡± She turned her silver gaze to the three sprawled out at the foot of the stone building across the courtyard. ¡°By the gods,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯re one of them. Hyperion. You came from the Color Moon?¡± ¡°Well, I think so. I just came through this door¡­¡± One of the creatures at the foot of the far building groaned and began to stand. Hazel appeared and growled at it. The creature, large and hairy, froze for a moment, then laid back down on the ground. It dawned on Jimothy that he had sent those people flying through the air. He might have hurt them. But they were trying to hurt him and Niri, right? Did that make it okay? He tried to think of what Mike would say about that. The Bible talked about not hurting your enemies. Being nice to them, in fact. So maybe¡­ ¡°I think we should go help them up,¡± said Jimothy. ¡°No!¡± said Niri. She snatched her hand away from his. ¡°Let¡¯s¡­keep going. Let¡¯s find this door.¡± ¡°Are you sure? What if they need help?¡± ¡°They¡¯ll be fine; we get thrown against walls all the time. Come on!¡± Again she pulled him by the arm. Again he fell over, but this time he wasn¡¯t quick enough to make a bed for himself to land on. Instead, he landed on the soft fluffiness of Hazel, who appeared beneath him. Niri pulled him to his feet and helped him along down the alley. ¡°Thanks!¡± said Jimothy. He tried to take a bite of the fruit with one hand while using the cane in the other. This met with predictable results, and again Hazel caught him before he fell completely. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Sky¡¯s light,¡± muttered Niri as she helped him up again. ¡°You are one of them? The heroes? How can you fall down so much?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve actually gotten pretty good at falling.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t care. Where was the door you came through?¡± Jimothy described it, and Niri knew where it was. They entered the crowded streets, but this time they walked at a slow pace he could keep up with. Niri continually scanned the crowd around them, alert and watchful. Jimothy also kept looking around. There was so much to look at! But he was starting to get tired. He had been walking a lot today, and he¡¯d made a lot of little shapes of light when putting together the stained glass. That made him tired. He didn¡¯t want to get a headache. ¡°Have you seen my friends?¡± Jimothy asked Niri as they walked. ¡°I think they might be around here somewhere.¡± ¡°Who are your friends?¡± ¡°Isaac, and Elizabeth, and Kate, and Eric, and Heidi.¡± She looked back at him, her silver eyes annoyed. ¡°How am I supposed to know if I¡¯ve seen them just from their names?¡± ¡°Oh! Right. Well, Isaac likes music and writing stories. He¡¯s pretty smart, but also he doesn¡¯t take things seriously a lot of the time. Um, and he prays a lot. And Kate, well her whole name is Kaitlyn, with a ¡®y¡¯ at the end of it, she likes to play with science and¡ª¡° ¡°That still doesn¡¯t help, Jibithy.¡± ¡°It¡¯s Jimothy.¡± ¡°Are they the other ones? You said five names; together that¡¯s six. Are you the heroes?¡± ¡°Um¡­¡± Heroes? Eric was probably a hero, but Jimothy didn¡¯t think that he himself was. ¡°I have a lighthouse,¡± he said. ¡°Okay, look.¡± Niri led him to the side of the street, and Jimothy realized that for a while now she had been holding his wrist so they wouldn¡¯t get separated. ¡°Look at your key.¡± She let go of his wrist and Jimothy dug the hexagon out of his pocket. ¡°Is. This. You?¡± Niri asked, pointing at the hexagon. ¡°No,¡± said Jimothy. ¡°Just this one.¡± He showed her the green paintbrush on one of the six triangles. ¡°I like to paint,¡± he explained. Wait, had he already said that? Niri became excited. The colored lines on her skin increased in saturation, and she grinned. Rows of tiny razor-sharp plates lined the inside of her mouth instead of teeth. It was scary. ¡°And you know these others?¡± Jimothy nodded, and he showed Niri how the other symbols on the hexagon stood for his friends. ¡°And if you want, you can be my friend too.¡± He was doubtful about whether she would also consequently get a slice of the hexagon, but he didn¡¯t mention that. She blinked at him. This was the first time he had seen her blink. A pale film slid over her silver eyes from the side just before her eyelids closed normally. ¡°Jimothy,¡± she said, ¡°how old are you?¡± ¡°Fourteen years,¡± he said, ¡°but my birthday is coming up soon!¡± She blinked again. ¡°Whatever. Jimothy, do you understand that I was setting you up back there?¡± Setting him up? He thought back and soon realized what she meant. It had been no accident that those thugs had been lying in wait. She had tricked him. Well, he was very easy to trick. Niri was watching him, waiting for an answer. ¡°Yeah,¡± he said. ¡°I think so. You tricked me, right?¡± She nodded. ¡°That¡¯s okay. I mean, Isaac tricks me all the time. We just had April Fools.¡± She blinked at him. ¡°I¡¯m pretty easy to trick. Are you wearing a shirt?¡± ¡°¡­no. Why would I wear a shirt?¡± ¡°Um. You know, I¡¯m getting pretty tired. Are we close to my door?¡± Niri nodded and guided him back into the street. In another minute Jimothy stood beside her in front of the big dark door he had come through, set into the wall with the mural. ¡°Who are they?¡± asked Jimothy, pointing up at the figures there depicted. ¡°The gods,¡± Niri said. ¡°How old are you?¡± ¡°One-sixty-two bright.¡± ¡°Oh.¡± Jimothy gazed up at the mural of the gods. Colorful gods. He liked that. He wondered where they were. Maybe in a library? That¡¯s where he would have painted them. Towering bookshelves, musty and gloomy. Those gods were burning, bleeding, thundering. They were all mixed together like glass beads in a kaleidoscope. But they were also in love, some of them, and full of rage, some of them, and they cried when no one was watching, some of them, and one of them was laughing, laughing. And one of them had a book full of birds. And one of them¡ª ¡°Hey.¡± Niri smacked him on the shoulder. ¡°Still there?¡± Jimothy blinked, looked around, remembered where he was. ¡°I think I¡¯m going to go home now,¡± he said. ¡°What are you going to do? Thanks for the fruit, also. Um. I¡¯ll try to pay you back.¡± ¡°I stole it,¡± she said. ¡°I don¡¯t know what I¡¯m going to do. I¡¯ll probably get blamed for what happened to Keppeth and the others.¡± ¡°Do you want to come to my lighthouse? There¡¯s no one to talk to there¡­¡± Jimothy abruptly realized that he had never before in his life been in a situation where he was actually unable to speak to anyone. He¡¯d always had Mike, and even after Eric and Isaac moved away he¡¯d been able to talk to them all the time. But in the colorless place¡­ Maybe that¡¯s why it was colorless? ¡°Go to Hyperion?¡± she asked. She looked up at the sky, and Jimothy saw that the underside of her jaw was gold in color. He realized that he wanted to paint her. ¡°I want to paint you,¡± he said. She blinked again. Her blinks seemed intentional. Maybe she didn¡¯t actually need to blink, or not very often, but did so as a way of reacting to things because the rest of her face lacked expression. He wondered if he should ask her about this. ¡°Will I be able to come back?¡± ¡°I guess. The door is a little way from the lighthouse, but I can take you to it whenever you want.¡± Niri nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll go. I¡¯m curious.¡± Jimothy smiled. ¡°Great! I bet Hazel will like having someone else around, too. Oh, but I think it might be dangerous. At night.¡± ¡°Dangerous? Even to you?¡± Even to him? He didn¡¯t know, so he shrugged. ¡°Okay,¡± said Niri. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± Jimothy encountered a problem later, back on Hyperion. It happened when he and Niri were leaving the ruins, after he had shown her the stained glass he had been putting together and demonstrated his ability to create shapes and to colorize things. She really enjoyed the colors. She asked him to color her hand, and he had made it green. Her laugh had a bubbly quality to it. Jimothy, to impress her, colored things all around: the trees and rocks and rubble, the grass. He colored himself in funny colors because he liked to hear her laugh. But the problem was that according to the Line, Niri was not real. This made him doubt the Line¡¯s accuracy more than ever. Niri seemed just like a real girl to him! Except for the eyes, and the skin, and all the other superficial things. When she gazed with wonder at the flowers of light he could create in the air, he found it impossible to also believe that this was all a dream, that she was only a figment of his imagination. ¡°Are you real?¡± he asked her as they left the ruins. He fell again because he looked at her instead of at his feet. She helped him up; she had already become good at it. ¡°What? Of course I¡¯m real. Do you meet many people who aren¡¯t?¡± Jimothy nodded. Sometimes, when he asked that, people said no, they weren¡¯t real, and that made things simple. ¡°Sometimes,¡± he told Niri, ¡°I see things that aren¡¯t real.¡± ¡°Like in the Sea of Dreams?¡± she asked. ¡°Well¡­maybe.¡± He considered trying to explain about the Line, but people usually had difficulty with understanding that one. Niri gasped and grabbed his shoulder, almost knocking him over. Geez! Liz would be more careful. He understood, though, when he saw what had startled her. They had just left the tree line and were heading back down the trail which led to the lighthouse. The lighthouse towered there on the dull horizon. After the color and life of the city, the sterile blandness of his world oppressed him all over again. A wolf stood there on a far hill, gray as the grass and as tall as the trees, its eyes burning with dark and light. It fixed its gaze upon Jimothy and Niri. It stalked toward them, silent as the dawn, through the trees and down from the hills. Jimothy dropped his cane and held onto Niri¡¯s arm with both hands. Hazel appeared before them, crouched down, hackles raised at the great beast. ¡°What is that?¡± whispered Niri. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Jimothy whispered back. The swiftness of the wolf¡¯s approach took them by surprise; in a moment it stood before them, between them and the lighthouse. One of its paws was sufficient to cover the entire width of the path. Its silvery hair stirred in a faint breeze that had not been there before. The smell of ink came with the wind, fresh ink. Jimothy shivered at the scent. Welcome to Hyperion, hero, said the wolf, only it didn¡¯t speak out loud. ¡°Did you hear that?¡± Jimothy asked Niri. ¡°Hear what?¡± ¡°Okay.¡± Speak to me, young one, said the wolf. ¡°Um. Okay, sorry. Hi.¡± Hello. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± ¡°Are you talking to it?¡± whispered Niri. Maugrim. ¡°I¡¯m¨Cmy name¡¯s Jimothy. Jimothy Whyte.¡± Yes. The three of them stood for a moment, watching each other. Only Hazel moved, unable to decide whether to growl at the wolf or welcome it. Hazel settled for pacing back and forth on the path in-between Jimothy and the newcomer. ¡°What¡­um, I don¡¯t mean to be rude, but, what do you want?¡± Jimothy noticed a folding curtain of darkness in the sky behind Maugrim, like a drop of black watercolor dissolving in water. He needed to get himself and Niri to the lighthouse, quick. But maybe they would be safe with this wolf. To rid this world of its darkness. ¡°Cool! That¡¯s what I want too.¡± You will need light. ¡°Yeah! I mean, I know. That crystal, right?¡± The wolf nodded. There is another source, it added. A greater source. ¡°Another source? Of light?¡± The wolf nodded again in response. ¡°Can you show me?¡± The wolf moved in sudden silence. It shifted itself to tower above them on the path. With a single quick motion, it brought a paw down upon Jimothy and Niri. Jimothy fell back, shocked, to the dusty ground. The wolf pinned Niri with one paw, and with another he tore out her throat. Cool violet blood sprayed across the pale dust. Niri cried out softly, then sighed as Maugrim removed the paw which pinned her. Jimothy watched as her eyes faded from brilliant silver to slate gray. Understanding came slowly to Jimothy. The horror of what had happened right in front of him stacked up in his mind, immune to processing. It had come too quickly, too unexpectedly. It defied comprehension. ¡°What¡­¡± he said. Look. Maugrim lowered his head down to the path and breathed upon Niri. A light appeared over her body, and it gathered into a small bright point that rose up from her chest. Light. Jimothy opened his mouth, but nothing came out. There was nothing there to speak. He had no questions, nor concerns¨Conly a blank, desperate void. Life is light, said Maugrim. The day may come when I shall take yours. Yet not this day. Maugrim raised himself back up to his full height. Use it well. We will speak again, Jimothy Whyte. The wolf bounded away, back up through the forested hills, again without a sound, without the slightest vibration of the earth to mark his departure, as if it was a ghost. Jimothy sat in the dust and watched him go. Then he turned his attention to Niri, who¡­ who¡­ He couldn¡¯t. He couldn¡¯t understand. He couldn¡¯t accept this. He wouldn¡¯t. Dead? Just like that? No, impossible. The tiny but brilliant speck of light, like a sun the size of a marble, still hovered a few inches over Niri. She had a shadow. It groped about sluggishly beneath her. Jimothy looked around. More shadows. It was happening again. He had to be quick. He had to get Niri to safety, even if she¡­ Hazel helped him to his feet. Jimothy created a bed for Niri, just as he had for himself back in the city. He raised her up on a blue surface, very careful not to look at her face, or her neck. The marble of light rose with her. Jimothy steadied himself with the cane, then reached out and touched the light. A rush of energy flooded his mind the moment he made contact. It blinded him completely. Such brilliance! The sun itself shone in his mind; its warm energy poured over him like a waterfall of molten light. He knew, at once, that he could make so much color with this light. This surpassed the crystal as a searchlight surpasses the little flashlight Mike keeps on his keychain. With this light, he could paint the sky. But what was this light? Was it Niri? Her life? Her soul? He didn¡¯t think he should paint the sky with any of that. He didn¡¯t want to. He concentrated on maintaining the bed and began the journey back to his lighthouse. This time he made it before things got really dark, for which he was grateful. He had no crystal this time, and he might have had to use Niri¡¯s light. Niri¡¯s light could have lit up the entire landscape like a noonday sun for miles and miles. If it were in the chamber at the top of his lighthouse, would he even need more crystals? But he didn¡¯t want to use it. Something waited for him by the front door of his lighthouse. It was a silver egg-shaped thing about the size of a football. It rested on the dusty path outside the door. A row of bright lights kept the encroaching shadows back, but Jimothy thought that the shadows would overpower light like that before the night was out. A pencil-shaped device emerged from the egg-thing when Jimothy came close. A network of blue lights flashed out from it toward Jimothy. He erected a belated barrier in front of him in case the light was harmful. But the machine only beeped in response. It rose up into the air, approached Jimothy, and opened up. Something was inside the interior compartment: a phone. A cell phone. He picked it up. Distracted by the cell phone, he forgot to maintain the floating bed for Niri. She fell with a thud onto the dusty path. He picked her back up at once, and when he again looked at the flying egg-thing, it had already closed itself back up and was humming up and away into the sky. Jimothy watched until it slipped away in-between two of the dark clouds spreading and staining the sky. Jimothy entered his lighthouse and made sure to close and bar the door behind him. He had to pick up the huge board with light because he could never lift it with his own muscles. Then he carried Niri up to the floor that held the guest rooms, just below his own living space. He placed her on one of the beds and finally made himself look at her, really look at her. He could only do so for a second because it made him feel sick and cold. The pale claw of Maugrim had torn her entire neck open in a ragged gash. Everything there was blue or purple, like her blood. It still glistened like wet paint. A pale film covered her eyes, like when just before she blinked. Her skin no longer showed gossamer traceries of veins. Now it was cold and pale and had a faint sheen, like candlewax. The Line told him that she wasn¡¯t real, but that didn¡¯t stop him from crying a little. The phone vibrated in his hand. ¡°Jim, pick up,¡± it said in Isaac¡¯s voice. ¡°Jim, pick up.¡± It took Jim a minute to figure out that the phone was receiving messages, and Isaac¡¯s voice was part of the alert tone. He opened the phone. IM: Jim you there? IM: It says ¡°delivered¡± IM: but I don¡¯t know what I¡¯m doing JW: Isaac! IM: yo! JW: How are you doing? ? IM: All right, how bout you? JW: well JW: I feel better now that I¡¯m talking to you IM: Yeah cool IM: oh shoot I forgot to change the text color IM: oh well IM: You need anything bro? JW: Uh JW: Is everyone okay? IM: Yeah we¡¯re all good IM: I¡¯ll hook you into the group chat in just a minute IM: hang on JW: Actually Isaac JW: wait IM: ? JW: I think I¡¯m just going to go to bed for now IM: Is it nighttime on your moon? JW: Yeah JW: and it¡¯s been a long day JW: so IM: All right, cool IM: I¡¯ll let everyone know IM: We have officially made contact with the Jimothy IM: wild Jimothy sighted IM: Hey is your thing color? IM: like how my thing is ¡°space¡± JW: it¡¯s light IM: Oh, I get it. Awesome. IM: Jimothy Light IM: Whyte Light IM: Night Light? IM: Lightman IM: any ideas? JW: I¡¯m going to bed IM: You sure you¡¯re okay? JW: Isaac do people have light inside them? Do you know? IM: Like, metaphorically? JW: nevermind IM: I think they do, Jim. IM: Like in a way I think probably Dwayne would have like the sun inside him JW: the sun IM: But I don¡¯t really think it¡¯s *our* light, you know? IM: reflected light, more like the moon I guess IM: Moonman IM: nah JW: Good night, Isaac IM: Let me know if you got something you need to talk about. IM: And remember: if you die... JW: die with honor Jimothy closed the phone. Dying with honor didn¡¯t sound like a funny joke anymore. Speaking of jokes, he remembered the ¡°handy¡± pun he had thought of earlier. He remembered thinking Isaac would like that. But Jimothy was not in the mood for jokes, even if Isaac always was. He put the phone in his pocket and looked again at Niri, lying on the bed. He reached out for the light but stopped with his fingers almost touching it. That sensation had been both exhilarating and terrifying. He wasn¡¯t sure he wanted to touch it again. What if it was Niri? Her soul? He didn¡¯t want to put it in the chamber at the top of the lighthouse, but he didn¡¯t want to just leave it here, either. He left the room and looked around until he found a box. A whole collection of boxes sat nested within each other in one of the closets. Wooden boxes, but lightweight. They had lids that lifted straight up. He opened box after box until he found the smallest one, just large enough to fit maybe a baseball inside. He took it, returned to Niri¡¯s room, and boxed up the marble of light. Maybe he could find a better place for it. Maybe he could figure out what the light was. Maybe he could ask the wolf. No, he didn¡¯t want to ask the wolf. Surely somebody back in that city knew. Maybe he would go and try it tomorrow. Or finish that stained-glass window. He went up to his floor and took a long, hot shower. He thought about texting someone on CHIME, maybe Elizabeth or Kate. But then he thought about Niri and decided that he just wasn¡¯t in the mood. He went to bed, and he cried himself to sleep with Niri¡¯s light in a box on his bedstand. Chapter 20 Chapter 20 Elizabeth Elizabeth chose to spend the night in town with the Yvethians rather than returning to her greenhouse. In the morning she awoke in one of their homes, for the village had no inn or guest house. The cozy log cabin housed a large family of scarlet bird-like humanoids resembling cardinals. A reptilian clan had also offered her refuge, but she didn¡¯t quite feel comfortable with that. She would have preferred cats, but she had yet to see any. Did that make her racist? Possibly, but last night she had been too tired to care. She had drunk tea and listened as a variety of animalian characters explained the basics of her moon. Their village was named Kotho, one of many settlements scattered all over Sisyphus, except on ¡°the Mountain,¡± where no one lived. Five political factions reigned under the guidance of the King in a faraway city, and they battled incessantly with words, treaties, and edicts rather than martial force. Martial force was reserved for the sinister agents of ¡°the Dark World,¡± which had been landing in greater numbers on the moon recently. Why were they invading? Everyone had a different theory, but it was generally agreed to be odd that the Dark World cared so much about Sisyphus. Winter oppressed the moon, as it had for many years, and its ravages only increased. The ice and cold smothered Sisyphus, crushing it, killing it slowly. The Yvethians were dying, piece by piece, town by town, year by year. Many departed as refugees for Ardia, the planet which Sisyphus orbited around, a world not freezing to death. But many remained. Elizabeth awoke to a warm room, curled up in a pile of blankets. She knew already that fuel could hardly be spared. But she was some ¡°hero,¡± they said, so they made sure she was comfortable. This made her uncomfortable in a different way. Funny. Her cardinal-like hosts had prepared what perhaps to them amounted to a feast: nuts, berries, dried fruit, juice. They chattered over each other in their excitement and did their best to explain everything. They remarked with approval upon how much she was eating, to her embarrassment. She tried to listen, but their peculiar whistling voices blended together into a continual warbling more musical than intelligible. They had names, but she could neither remember nor pronounce most of them. Her hosts had canvassed the village in the night to find creatures whose bodies resembled hers in size and shape, and they had borrowed warm clothes for her. A storm was moving in, they told her. She thanked them profusely. She felt sure that she had warm clothes aplenty pre-stocked in her greenhouse, and she resolved to return these loaned clothes when she had located her own. Elizabeth bundled up in her new scarf, gloves, boots, and coat of thick, soft fur, and she left the home of the cardinals. Outside, the bright morning proved much colder and windier than the still dark night of her arrival. With Callie almost invisible at her side, she explored the village. It was a frigid, white, barren place. Trees shot up here and there, birch and maple encrusted with hoarfrost. Greenery crawled on many of the cozy cabins, often sprinkled with holly, but always frozen in ice. Almost every creature she encountered spoke to her with evident pleasure, as well as with a peculiar deference. They treated her as a person of import. The slightest expression of desire on her part¨Cfor a drink, for a place to sit, for information¨Cproduced immediate efforts to gratify said desire. She learned: That this moon waited for a hero, and it was her. ¡°The Hero of Movement.¡± What did that mean? No one knew. Then how did they know it was her? She had come through the door, hadn¡¯t she? At the Greenhouse? And she had the pendant. That advanced technology co-existed alongside wood fires and log houses. They possessed computers, specialized in purpose and used only on occasion. This technology assisted with, but did not obviate, the ever-present problem of heat. That they had a greenhouse of their own, one of the few means of acquiring non-imported food. They kept sturdy herd animals outside of town. A firm distinction, self-evident to the residents of Kotho, existed between the sentient animalian citizens of Sisyphus and the herd beasts kept for food, fur, and milk. That they had work, families, hopes, fears, dreams, and a sense of humor. They had children, marriages, and old crippled veterans wounded in battle against the forces of the Dark World. That a great variety of races existed, though only a half dozen were represented here in Kotho, and that each had unique social conventions, familial structures, and racial stereotypes. That the iguana-like reptilians who had offered to house her the previous night lived in a single large longhouse (all 73 of them), piled together at night for warmth, and possessed both great kindness and a keen sense of wry humor. That humans lived on Ardia, but not on the Garden Moon, and that the moon¡¯s denizens viewed the human race with indifference. Nothing special. That King Basileus ruled the Garden Moon from Dyaz, the capital city. He was beloved but old, his grip on authority tenuous, the political situation volatile. And finally, that a great mountain rose on the far side of the moon, a mountain of incredible size, at the summit of which grew a single frozen flower, unique among all the many frozen flowers of Sisyphus. ¡°If it blooms¡­¡± said the ancient hunched cat to which she spoke, beside a small fire in a ramshackle cottage, ¡°spring will come at last to the Garden Moon.¡± She blew on the tea she held in a heavy ceramic mug and took a sip. Sweet. ¡°And what will make it bloom?¡± she asked, clunking the mug down on the rough table at which she sat. The shutters of the tiny hovel rattled in the gusts, and fingers of icy wind crept in through the cracks. The wizened cat, who barely saw over the table when standing upright, climbed up into a rickety chair opposite Elizabeth. He wrapped his tattered gray cloak around himself, obscuring fur of the same color and quality. Though elderly, his gray eyes remained bright, and his tufted tail twitched behind him as he placed his cane on the table and then tapped it at her. ¡°You will,¡± he said in a shaky voice. ¡°Or rather, you are meant to.¡± He reached with quivering hands for his own bowl of tea, drew it toward himself, and leaned over to lap it up. Callie, at Elizabeth¡¯s side, lapped milk in the same manner. Elizabeth had to repress a deeply ingrained impulse to pet cats. This ancient gray was adorable. She wanted to hug him, scritch him behind the ears. But that would definitely be improper. Probably. ¡°Meant to by whom?¡± she asked. ¡°Who knows? The Bright World, perhaps? The gods? Your Guardian?¡± He coughed. ¡°My Guardian¨Cis that Callie?¡± Callie, at her feet, perked up at her name. Elizabeth reached down and stroked her between her long, tufted ears. The old cat chuckled, and this became a rasping cough. ¡°No, no. Every moon has a Guardian. A great, powerful, fearsome creature. Do not let their title fool you, however. They are not all benevolent.¡± ¡°Hm¡­I¡¯m sorry, what¡¯s your name?¡± Elizabeth just then realized that she had not yet asked this elder his name. She hoped this wasn¡¯t too rude. ¡°Deuteronomy,¡± said the cat. ¡°Old Deuteronomy, some call me.¡± He chuckled. ¡°It is a pleasure to meet you.¡± He did not appear to have a family, unlike most in Kotho. Would he be all right here on his own? Maybe she should invite him back to her Greenhouse? ¡°I appreciate it,¡± he said in his shaky voice, ¡°but that will not be necessary.¡± Embarrassed, Elizabeth realized she must have spoken her thoughts out loud. ¡°And this Bright World,¡± she continued, ¡°what is that?¡± ¡°Why, it is what lights the daytime. It orbits Ardia just as the moons do, and just as the Dark World does.¡± ¡°Can you tell me more about the flower? How should I make it bloom?¡± He sighed; the breath rattled his frail frame. ¡°You cannot.¡± She waited for him to continue. ¡°If you wish to find the flower, you must venture to the peak of the Mountain. But the way to make it bloom¡­is impossible. This is common knowledge.¡± ¡°Not common pessimism?¡± He shook his head gravely. ¡°It is a law of this world.¡± ¡°Yet it is my task?¡± He nodded. ¡°Sisyphus.¡± He nodded again. ¡°Well, we¡¯ll see about that.¡± He nodded a third time, slowly. Maybe he was just dozing off. ¡°Can you tell me more? About the angels. And those worlds you talked about: Bright, Dark. And the Guardians. And Ardia.¡± Old Deuteronomy yawned hugely. ¡°I am an old and tired cat,¡± he said. ¡°Too much talk for one day. Too much.¡± Elizabeth could tell he simply didn¡¯t wish to speak anymore, so she let him be. She would soon know all about it. Perhaps all this information could be discovered somewhere in her Greenhouse. It had a library. ¡°You should go to Skywater,¡± Deuteronomy said after he had lapped up some more tea. ¡°Where is that?¡± ¡°On Ardia. The City of Doors, it¡¯s called.¡± ¡°And how shall I reach this city?¡± ¡°A door, of course.¡± The old cat yawned again, though it seemed more genuine this time. He dropped from his chair and shuffled to a small bed in the corner, heaped with blankets. It didn¡¯t seem very warm, and she again considered inviting him to her greenhouse, which had exhibited no dearth of heat. ¡°Unnecessary,¡± said the cat. ¡°I will be fine. A door to Skywater is somewhere near your greenhouse, I believe.¡± He curled up in the blankets, apparently unconcerned that she still sat at the table. But it didn¡¯t feel right to stay and drink tea while he went to sleep, so she stood, drained her tea, thanked Deuteronomy, and left. Callie appeared at her side when she closed the door. Callie stretched, clawed at the ice with huge milky-white paws, unbothered by the bitter wind which ruffled her flawless fur. She was a lynx, of course. This was lynx weather. Callie loved it here. It was time to go home. The lift station at the edge of town also served as the train station and hub of communication with the rest of Sisyphus. A cardinal charting routes on a wall-map with colored pins greeted her when she entered the station. This bird wore a blue jacket against the cold, for the interior of the station was little warmer than outside. The blue of his thick woolen jacket partly concealed his brilliant crimson plumage. The bird introduced himself as Kyko. She offered him a handshake, which took some awkward explaining, and she marveled at his rough claw-like bird hand when she shook it. He began starting up the lift mechanism. This required her key. Kyko knew what to do, but it had never been done before. The lift had never been used until the night before, for the hero had never been around to use it. He hopped from foot to foot on his thin legs as the sleek white machinery hummed to life, apparently overcome with excitement. For him, this seemed like a dream come true. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°It will take a moment for it to warm up,¡± he told her in a quick, raspy voice. ¡°Would you like to see the station?¡± She nodded and followed on a brief tour of the Kotho station. A single rail line passed through the town. The track had three parallel rails. Elizabeth wanted to see a train, but none were present at the moment. Kyko supplied her with a map of Sisyphus. He also told her that the various political factions already knew of her arrival, and would soon arrive via train to ¡°deal with¡± her. Kyko, it seemed, knew all there was to know about the complex train network that covered the surface of Sisyphus. He chattered on about routes and trains and trams and engines and rails and maintenance and various inefficiencies which had been unfortunately introduced into the system. Elizabeth was not so interested in all this and directed his conversation toward the people and parties that dwelt upon the moon. Only when listening to Kyko monologue did Elizabeth begin to understand the complexity of her role in Sisyphus and the responsibilities this might entail. Contrasting opinions on this matter warred within her: offense at having such a role foisted upon her non-consensually weighed against pleasure at the prospect of such importance and influence that she now apparently possessed, even if she had done absolutely nothing to earn it. She thanked Kyko, told him to give her regards to the town, promised to return soon, and stepped into the lift. The push of a button sent her sliding out of the station and through the frigid whiteness of the day outside. Thick cables lifted the carriage on a slow upward ascent through part of the town and then up to the mountains beyond. The carriage swayed in the wind. She steadied herself on conveniently placed poles overhead as the landscape slid past outside. She enjoyed the aerial view of Kotho through the tinted windows. Beyond Kotho, away from the dark mountains, she saw the triple-rail of the train tracks cutting a straight line through vast empty fields. A forest of strange trees, frozen and dusted with frost, sprawled in another direction. They looked a bit like flowers. Tree-sized lilies. The thought made her smile. How marvelous might that be if they were thawed and growing? As she neared the mountains, she grew tired of viewing the monochromatic landscape and turned her attention to the map of her moon. The mountain she had heard tell of occupied the center of the map. It was apparently just named ¡°the Mountain,¡± and a small floral symbol marked its summit. The Mountain covered roughly a third of the area of the entire map. That did not make sense, assuming this was a map of the whole moon. She looked for elevation markers but found none, as this appeared to be a political map. Kotho had been marked out on the far left edge. About as far away as one could get from the Mountain, it looked like. Kotho stood next to a small range, and another flower symbol marked her greenhouse nearby. She could tell by judging the distance from her greenhouse to Kotho that the moon was quite small. Much smaller than Earth. Maybe only a few thousand miles in circumference. Was that too small for a moon? And what about gravity? She was no scientist; she didn¡¯t know. Local cosmology was a puzzle that seemed increasingly important to work out. Just as she had said earlier in the group chat, they needed answers. Isaac had an orbital satellite instead of a moon, full of telescopes? Of course he did. She trusted him to figure out the arrangement and size of their respective celestial bodies. As for her, for now, she wanted to learn about this flower on top of the mountain. The Garden Moon would thaw when the flower bloomed. It sounded like a fairy tale. Why would it not bloom? She had only the word of an old cat on that, though she felt she should trust him. A mystery. It intrigued her. She should go and find this flower. The lift carriage ascended up into the snowy peaks and docked smoothly at her conservatory complex, which looked quite impressive when viewed from the outside in the pale light of day. That crystalline flower platform glittered at the highest point, with its single white door standing alone at one edge. One door. One out of six. She danced later. To think; to relax. She played the music she found already loaded onto the sound system. It was strange, exotic, cool and flowing like a river under the ice. She did not recognize it. She danced and felt more keenly than ever the pang of loneliness. No one to dance with, and not even the possibility of one nearby. To be fair, she hadn¡¯t asked anyone in Kotho. The thought of those animal-like creatures put a smile on her face. How strange their dances must be! She felt strangely light when she danced. She also felt strangely heavy. No¨Cneither light nor heavy, but¡­inexorable. Profound. Nothing could stop her movement, her dance. Were a mountain to oppose her, she would dance right through it, leaving a cartoon-style outline of her figure in the rock. Were she not careful, she would close her eyes and dance right out of the studio, through the wall and out into the snowy brightness, resulting in a variety of heating problems. The music pulsed. She was light-headed, dazed. Confused? Not at all. Certain, rather. Every movement was intentional. She leaped high, as high as she could go. She meant to stay up, so up she stayed. For one second, two, three, she hung in the air like a cloud. She drifted back to the polished wooden floor, tripped, tumbled lightly onto her back. She panted, confused, a dull ache in the back of her head. Callie purred like a motorcycle nearby. ¡°That was strange,¡± Elizabeth said. What had happened? She could hardly remember. There was only the music there in her memory. Not exactly beautiful, but oh so clear. Callie watched on full alert, thrumming with a cat¡¯s barely contained motion. Her tail twitched back-and-forth, sweeping the floor. She stood and strolled from the room, pausing at the door to glance at Elizabeth. Elizabeth had been with Callie long enough to know when the lynx wanted her to follow. Callie took her to an unknown part of the greenhouse, to a door that opened onto the bright snowy field outside. Callie strolled up to the door and was gone. Elizabeth put her face to a window of thick three-layered glass and tried to spot Callie out there. Of course, the effort was futile. The daylight, diffused through the cold clouds above, leaked from everywhere. Everything out there was Callie-colored. Elizabeth expected to find a coat closet near the exit, and in this she was not disappointed. She remembered, as she bundled up in a coat, scarf, hat, gloves, and snow boots, that she had to return the clothing she had borrowed from the people of Kotho. The door had a keypad that unlocked as soon as she brought her hexagonal pendant within an inch of its surface. She opened the door outward and stepped into the snow, taking the yellow umbrella propped against the wall on the inside. Callie appeared only intermittently as she stomped through snowy fields and skirted clumps of frozen trees. Still cold up here, but not as windy as it had been down in Kotho. A solid slate of pale sky hung overhead. She hiked through knee-deep or sometimes hip-deep snow in a washed-out world, cold and featureless. Only the gray trunks of nearby trees and the darker black of the cold rocks on the surrounding cliffs gave her any reference for location. A blank slate. Tabula rasa. She moved slowly, steadily, quietly. Soon she was out of breath; plowing through snow was hard work. But she enjoyed that. A simple physical challenge to be overcome was a welcome break from the seemingly irresolvable mysteries of the past few days. It took her about half an hour to catch up with Callie, something she only realized she had done when she felt Callie rub against her leg. The cat was nearly invisible in the snow. Not even any eyes to give her away, nor any stain or discoloration of her fur. If anything, she was even a bit whiter than the snow around her. Elizabeth collapsed into a nearby snowbank to catch her breath. She stroked the purring lynx and gazed about her. Why here? She had been sure Callie was leading her somewhere. Callie knew she liked flowers, so back in Pennsylvania she would often take Elizabeth on treks through the woods to show her patches of wildflowers. Callie seemed either unable or unwilling to differentiate between types of flowers, so sometimes the place she took Elizabeth had nothing more interesting than blooming dandelions. There were indeed flowers here, and Elizabeth saw them after exploring behind the nearest copse of pines. They were colorful but frozen, encased entirely in a thin sheath of ice. They clustered around the base of a freestanding door. The door, she saw when she came closer, had the word ¡°Skywater¡± written on the frame. Hadn¡¯t Kate said something about this? That they should all meet up in Skywater? In the quiet white, she sent Kate a message. EE: Kate, are you there? KC: yeah! KC: just woke up ;) EE: Slept in? That is not like you. KC: no it¡¯s still dark here :p EE: Oh. Right. KC: heheh! EE: I am looking at a door that says ¡°Skywater.¡± KC: !! KC: cool! KC: I still haven¡¯t found mine <:\ KC: I haven¡¯t really looked yet though EE: Where does it go? KC: a city I think? EE: Is it safe? KC: eeehhhhhh KC: (shrug) KC: maybe? EE: How reassuring. KC: he he KC: we should go together! EE: How? KC: once I find my door, we¡¯ll go together and then find each other once we¡¯re there! EE: We should all do that. KC: yeah! KC: Jim too! EE: Apparently I am supposed to find a flower, and make it bloom. KC: ? EE: And to do this, I must thaw out my moon. KC: woah, cool! KC: I think mine has something to do with storms? EE: Your what? KC: my IMPORTANT MISSION KC: hehe KC: I¡¯ll let you know when I find my door! Elizabeth pocketed the phone and warmed her hands inside her coat. She sat on the snow and observed the door. It had a hexagonal pad just like her greenhouse. She could walk through that door to another place, right now. She wasn¡¯t afraid. She had an umbrella. But¡­ But she had always wanted to take things one at a time. She wanted to work out one thing before moving on to the next. In this situation, she wanted to know about her moon before moving on to some city elsewhere. She wanted to know about that flower she was supposed to make bloom. She wanted to see it. IMPORTANT MISSION, Kate had said. Sisyphus. Elizabeth sat in the snow for maybe half an hour, luxuriating in the calm, the quiet, the cold. Beautiful here. She turned her gaze to the cloudy sky above. Strangely pale, as though the sun beyond lacked depth of color. Her own hand, when she held it up, curiously white. Snow began to fall in big fat flakes. She remembered the place of columns, the flower petals, the bleeding sky. It came, a flower bright, amid the cold of winter when half gone was the night. And here was another one: ¡°always winter, never Christmas.¡± Elizabeth uprooted a frozen flower from the base of the ¡°Skywater¡± door and took it back to her greenhouse. She planted it there in a subtropical environment, watered it, watched it thaw. Its petals drooped when they unfroze. Surely they would wither and fall. Time would tell whether the flower would survive. Surely the special flower on the mountaintop would not be so easy. Chapter 21 Chapter 21 Eric Eric tried to move the body out of the church the next morning, but it was too heavy for him. After five minutes of striving to drag it out the door, Frisby revealed that he could simply teleport it away. Eric didn¡¯t ask where. He made breakfast, grabbed his sword, and checked again on the metronomes. They looked just as they had the day before, all ticking away. Liz¡¯s metronome, the gold one, still bore the faint marks where the cyborg alien creature had tried to break it. He pulled out his phone, noted that it needed charging, and began a to-do list. Item 1: figure out security systems. Item 2: what¡¯s the deal with these metronomes? (Somebody knew. Somebody, somewhere, had left him a clue. He just had to find it.) Item 3: Jimothy. Doors. After typing these into the notepad on his phone, he growled in frustration and shoved the phone back into his pocket. This was no to-do list. It was just a list of shit he didn¡¯t know. And if he started a list like that, he¡¯d be here all day before he finished it. What he needed was action, decisive action. What could he do? He considered this as he climbed to the top of the tower, flung back the grate, and stepped up onto the big platform. He could see more of the city in the daytime. ¡°Daytime¡± meant that the dark sky, heavy with clouds, allowed a bit of light to filter through from beyond. He faced techno-ville at the lakeside where he had traveled the day before. To his left, a mess of highways cut through stretches of relatively barren, undeveloped land; sometimes overpasses stacked up on top of each other four or five deep. To his right, a distant river wound toward the lake. He could tell it was there only because of the upraised drawbridges. Behind, away from the lake, the city mounted again into a dense mass of skyscrapers, but they looked odd in some way he couldn¡¯t make out. He spent some time making sure he understood the layout of the streets immediately adjacent to his church-thing. A trickle of smoke still crawled up into the sky from the wreckage of the destroyed craft. He would go check that out. But first, security. He returned to his huge man-cave, put some more music on while charging his phone, and played with the array of computer consoles. The music was solid. Fuzzy techno with a heavy kick. The beat thumped through the stale air, vibrated through the stone floor and walls, drummed through Eric¡¯s blood and bones as he sat before the computer array. He knew what to do. He didn¡¯t know how he knew. Maybe it was the music. Something about it stirred him. He wanted to run, to fight, to do something, anything. He seized the mouse and clicked rapidly through a series of options and screens. Strangely familiar, all of it. It didn¡¯t take him long to figure out why. It was almost identical to a digital-audio-workstation, which he used for mixing music. Furthermore, the computer array linked with the nearby music mixing equipment somehow. It was also ARKO-tech. He set up the security measures, the warning alarms, the detection of incoming craft¨Cbasically all the available options, just in case. He made sure he would receive a message on his phone if something were to go amiss, and he sent a test signal to be sure he¡¯d receive it. Something else caught his eye when he closed out of the security windows: a digital illustration of the seven metronomes, complete with readouts and measurements. Each had a STATUS, and each STATUS read ACTIVE. Each came with a scrolling digital readout like a cardiograph, ticking away beat by beat. Heart-rate monitors, basically. Eric could look back through the complete history of the heart rates of himself and all his friends ever since each of them began around twenty hours earlier. He scrolled back through his own feed to the part where he had fought the cyborg thing. Judging by this graph, he¡¯d been one step away from a fucking heart attack. ¡°Weird,¡± he told Frisby, who had settled upon an unused keyboard and was tapping random keys on it with his tiny claws. ¡°Super fucking weird, man. Like, what¡¯s the point? I guess it¡¯s good to know everyone¡¯s not dead.¡± He considered scanning the graphs for the others, or maybe just for Isaac, since Isaac definitely would not care, but he decided against it. He closed all the windows, swiveled away from the computer array. ¡°Let¡¯s go exploring.¡± He took the sword, along with a sheath which almost fit it that he found in a closet. With this, he could carry the sword across his back, freeing up a hand. He packed some food and water into a backpack, which after some experimentation he could swing on overtop of the sheath. He left through the front door and locked it behind him with his phone. He stood in the barren street for a moment, watched the sky overhead. No sign of the dragon. Not that he¡¯d ever see it if it was up there above the clouds. He returned to the wreckage of the ship the dragon had destroyed the night before. The streets were unnervingly quiet and grim in the dim light. Bits of the wreckage leaked tendrils of smoke up into the dark air. The smoke rose unnaturally straight. Eric smelled fire: charred flesh, burned plastic, burned metal, burned everything. He wanted to cover his mouth with something, but all he had was Heidi¡¯s bandana and Kate¡¯s scarf, both of which were stained with blood. He didn¡¯t like the idea of using either of those as a filter. In fact, why the hell did he even bring those? Thoughts of those two reminded him of the ceramic hexagon, which he had placed around his neck. He checked it. All the symbols, still glowing. If one of them went out, would that mean that someone had died? He looked back at the smoldering wreckage. Honestly, he¡¯d always hated breathing in shit that he knew could mess him up. If he had like a filter mask or something¡­ A trickle of grainy gray fog leaked from the hexagon and coalesced into a white filter mask in the air in front of him. It fell to the cement. ¡°Cool,¡± he said, then added, ¡°thanks,¡± for whoever might have done this. He suspected Frisby, but the dragon seemed preoccupied investigating one of the blackened bodies. Eric strapped the filter mask over his face and joined Frisby. This corpse resembled the creature he¡¯d fought in the church. The others he found were similar. An explosion had blown the ship apart from the inside. Eric searched with intent to scavenge, but little remained. He found a small black box with blinking lights on it. A battery? A case? A handheld game console? He put it in his backpack. He found a cluster of soft rubbery orbs, scratched and singed but not badly damaged. Food? Grenades? Sports balls? Into the backpack. He came away with an assortment of knick-knacks and two things he thought could be useful. The first was a kind of tactical helmet, slightly too large for him but otherwise able to fit his head. It was powered. Some experimentation enabled him to remove the clear faceplate in front, to display various readouts, to scan the surrounding environment. The second thing he found was a weapon. It had the head of an axe, like what his opponent had wielded the night before. This was a small one, more like a hatchet, so he carried it with him. He and Frisby left the wreckage to meander through the streets, tinkering with the many functions of the helmet as he went. The nature of most of these functions eluded him. He decided that the best time to work out the mysteries of this technology would be back in the safety of his base, not out in the streets. He clicked the switch that retracted the visor. The axe got a few practice swings as he went. Like the sword on his back, this weapon included technological enhancements. Rather than the vague green energy which cloaked the blade of the sword, this axe could manifest a red laser-like beam along the otherwise-dull curvature of its blade. It could also fire a slow red projectile out of the end, although as far as Eric could see, this did no damage to anything it struck. He wandered in the direction he thought of as ¡°north,¡± which meant that the lake was to his right just like in Chicago. Frisby fluttered about to investigate random objects as though he found everything in sight intensely fascinating. Maybe he did. He was only a day old, right? How much did the mini-dragon-angel actually know? Eric attempted further communication with Frisby Wiser. It was clear from previous interactions that it could understand him fairly well. Where had such understanding come from? ¡°Frisby,¡± he said as he took a break on a low stone bench beside an empty lot covered in pale sand. The dragon swooped in and alighted on his knee. ¡°You can understand me, right?¡± The dragon nodded. ¡°You know who I am?¡± Another nod, but already its relentless curiosity caused its attention to wander to the empty lot behind him. ¡°Do you know who Leah is? Leah Walker?¡± After a slight pause, Frisby nodded again. Its tail whipped back and forth through the air behind it like a dog. Yeah, of course it knew Leah. Leah had named it. ¡°And the others? Isaac, Liz, Heidi¨Cwell, you met Heidi.¡± It nodded, but its attention turned to a tiny hole in the fabric of Eric¡¯s jeans. It pawed like a cat at the hole, getting one of its tiny white claws through and widening the hole slightly. ¡°Okay. Then how about this: Benjamin Franklin. Know him?¡± Frisby stared at him, his eyeless face twisting one way, then another. It seemed puzzled. ¡°Ok. Dwayne Hartman.¡± Frisby froze completely, except for a slight tremor that ran through it from the tip of its tail to its scaly nose. ¡°So you know Dwayne? Huh.¡± Frisby Wiser raised its head up as far as it could stretch, opened its jaws, and produced a tiny belch of white smoke. Sparks like a myriad of microscopic lightning bolts crawled through the cloud as it dissipated. Frisby repeated this act, then looked down as though ashamed. Frisby shook its head. ¡°Is there a better way for you to communicate with me?¡± he asked. In response, Frisby only wrapped its tail around his leg and hugged his thigh. Maybe the dragon could learn to write? Probably not. He should have known better. Liz had had Callie with her for years; if the angels could communicate somehow, Liz would¡¯ve known. He continued on, swinging the axe. Its energy blade could slice clean through the thin metal lampposts which lined the streets in this area. He powered the blade back down to conserve battery after leaving a short trail of severed lampposts. It made him think of Heidi, though. She¡¯d like this weapon. Did she have something like this, wherever she was fighting? What was she fighting against? Did she have metronomes or something similar to protect? She¡¯d probably be all right. She was the most badass of them all. And besides, she had that black angel with her. It would have to be something nasty indeed to threaten her with Baha around. She¡¯d probably be fine. If it were Kate in danger, or Jim, he¡¯d be worried. But he shot her a text anyway. EW: whats the situation over there? EW: no need to respond at once if youre like in the middle of something And she didn¡¯t. Scenarios scrolled through his mind, consisting mainly of Heidi locked in pitched combat with mysterious foes, maybe facing her own hulking cyborg-like creatures. Even in his imagination, they didn¡¯t stand a chance against Baha. It tore them to shreds. He kept walking. North, to check out those big empty areas he had seen. He worried about straying too far from his base. What if, again, someone came to attack the metronomes while he was gone? Would the dragon come again and kill them, and maybe this time leave two for Eric to fight? He had to find a faster means of travel if he ended up being here for a while. He had so far seen nothing resembling a vehicle, though the road he walked on had clearly been designed for automobiles or something like them. HS: We¡¯re good. You? EW: same HS: You said you killed a cyborg? EW: yeah EW: a drop ship came and landed by my base EW: a dragon came and fucking took them out EW: an actual dragon not frisby EW: it left one for me EW: which i had to fight cause it was trying to break some metronomes HS: And you won? EW: i got lucky EW: i scavenged this energy sword Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. EW: bargain bin lightsaber thing EW: frisby helped EW: bet baha wouldve cleaned it up HS: I¡¯ve been fighting too EW: do tell HS: Not cyborgs. Shadow monsters that live on my moon. HS: They are disturbing EW: no shit HS: I¡¯m worried about the others. HS: What if Kate had to fight a monster? HS: I don¡¯t think she could do it EW: maybe EW: shes got people with her though EW: anyone on your moon? HS: Sort of. EW: how can you sort of have people on your moon? EW: wait no i got this EW: metal moon right? HS: Right EW: so theyre like all shredding it up on guitars EW: facepaint and long hair and biting the heads off bats and shit HS: Ha HS: I wish HS: At least I would understand that a little EW: so how can you ¡®sort of¡¯ have people on your moon? HS: They¡¯re people, I guess HS: Just different HS: I shouldn¡¯t judge EW: weirdos? EW: sounds great EW: wish i had some EW: meanwhile im just over here in fuckin solitary EW: me and my dragon EW: two dragons i guess HS: Double Dragon? EW: what? HS: Nevermind. HS: And the cyborgs? EW: yeah i hope im done with that shit though EW: came way too close to making me the ex-metronome-king of spooky city world HS: I wouldn¡¯t count on it HS: I¡¯m pretty sure we¡¯re supposed to fight HS: I am, anyway EW: shit EW: how do you know? HS: You have a home, right? And your own room? EW: yeah HS: Mine had body armor, disinfectant, and bandages waiting for me EW: well fuck now i really am worried about the others HS: Have you found a way out? Or one of these doors we¡¯re supposed to find? EW: not yet but i think im on to something HS: Okay. Talk to you later EW: yeah just dont die EW: uh but if you do die... HS: ? EW: die with honor HS: Understood EW: that was a joke okay HS: Understood Eric stood at the edge of a black abyss, as large across as a baseball field, and stared into its depths. He couldn¡¯t see the bottom. In the dim daylight, he could hardly see anything at all down there. Part of the cracked asphalt road descended into the darkness like a crusty disintegrating ribbon. Power lines dipped down into the murk on his side of the chasm and rose again on the other side, the dangling power poles which dragged the line down barely visible. A sinkhole of some kind, obviously not supposed to be here. It lay on the edge of the flat area with the highways. Eric climbed atop a nearby cement wall and looked out across the sinkhole. Highways wound through low hills of dead grass, coiling around each other and mounting up into stacks of overpasses. Beyond, the city began again. An airfield made up a large part of that flat space. He thought he saw more sinkholes there too, similar in scope to the one at his feet. He clambered back down and approached the edge. The lip seemed solid, but he could not tell by looking down whether anything supported the road he walked on. For all he knew, it could collapse at any moment. He wanted to go down into the hole, though, see what was under there. He¡¯d need light. Did he have a light? The helmet might help. What else¡­the six-sided medallion? He held it up for observation. The symbols glowed, but not bright enough for illumination. He pictured a flashlight in his mind, a long black one like the one in his apartment back home. That would be perfect. A trail of mist leaked from the cool hexagonal medallion and coalesced into that very flashlight. It fell to the ground. Instead of clattering on the asphalt, it exploded in a silent whoosh of pale silvery mist. Eric looked to Frisby for help, but the dragon was occupied in attempting aerial barrel-rolls. Eric imagined the flashlight again and watched it form again from mist. He caught it before it fell. It was cool and heavy, the tiny diamond-pattern grip on its shaft very real to his touch. He clicked it on. Nothing. He checked the battery compartment. No batteries. He imagined batteries and caught one of them before it hit the ground. Once he had placed them in the flashlight, it worked. A beam of bright white light cut through the dim air. He returned to the edge and directed the light downward. Bits of metal glinted far down at the bottom of the pit. The area immediately below his broken road was not terribly deep. A tunnel came out there from the direction of a cross-street. A subway? He saw no rails. He circumnavigated the pit counterclockwise and found a way down after only a few minutes. A metal railing dangled down from a partly collapsed building, and Eric felt sure he could safely climb down into the darkness below. Sand slid down on top of him as he descended the railing. He dropped the flashlight partway down, but did not hear it land. He reimagined it at the bottom while clasping the medallion. Soon after, he abandoned the flashlight in favor of a headlamp. The tunnel he had seen was a huge dark gap in this collapsed hole. He followed it away from the sinkhole. It descended at a steady angle. Unlike the collapsed pit, which was clearly not supposed to be there, this tunnel was artificial. It was like the tunnel of a two-lane road through a mountain except that the floor was of metal instead of asphalt. It became pitch black almost immediately. His headlamp illuminated only a small fraction of the space in which he walked. He kept his light on the swivel but detected no threats. No monsters in the darkness, no alien cyborgs, nothing alive at all. He tried the settings on the helmet as he went. One of them acted like night-vision goggles, but he thought he¡¯d save it until he needed it. If his interpretation of strange symbols was correct, the helmet was low on battery. Steadily downward, minute by minute. Was he wasting his time? Probably. But this tunnel clearly went somewhere, and since he didn¡¯t know shit about this world, he might as well try to figure something out. The tunnel branched when he had walked about twenty minutes. To the right, to the left, dead ahead. The tunnel directly ahead inclined downward at an even steeper angle. He continued on. Frisby, who had been whirling in the air before him, suddenly swooped to Eric¡¯s shoulder and gripped it tightly. Eric paused. Danger? He looked about and raised the axe, though he did not activate it. He saw nothing. But he heard something. Or felt it. It was like the distant rumble of machinery. He squatted and put a hand to the cool, dusty metal. Faint vibrations¨Cvery faint. He continued on. He saw lights when he had walked another five minutes. Distant sodium-vapor lights, orange streetlights. The tunnel opened up ahead, connecting to a larger space. Eric approached slowly. The distant rumbling trembled in the air. He stopped once he reached the point where the tunnel ended and open space began. And here, all at once, he understood why it was called the Hollow Moon. He almost missed the movement to his right. Maybe he would have, thus ending his entire adventure before it even began, had not Frisby Wiser launched himself into the air in alarm and drawn Eric¡¯s attention away from the space below. He fell backward as a heavy chain churned through the air. It clanged deafeningly on metal as it rebounded in a shower of sparks. A heavy, rhythmic thumping began, like a throbbing bass line, as a figure emerged from the shadows nearby. Eric caught only a scattered series of brief, confused images during the next few moments, but he could tell that it was a machine. The beat helped him as he awkwardly dodged, scrambled away from his assailant. He moved with that beat, allowing it to dictate the pacing of his actions as it did for the thing swinging chains at him. He caught one on the helmet as he stumbled back, flinging him to the ground, bright shapes flashing in his vision. His assailant pressed the attack. It was some kind of machine, or robot, not much larger than Eric. And it had that beat, like a heartbeat, thumping, pulsing. Eric, in the slow time of panic as he scrambled to defend himself, became keenly aware of the two contrasting rhythms: his own excited pulse and the steady thumping of his opponent. The machine¡¯s beat was slower, much slower. The swinging chains, which struck sprays of sparks on the metallic floor and walls, seemed to float ponderously through the dark. Maybe it was just the adrenaline, but Eric had time to stand and dodge. In fact, his own heartbeat was so much faster that he could just¡­step around them. They were hardly moving. He knew this wasn¡¯t right, couldn¡¯t possibly be right, be was terrified that thinking too hard about it would somehow break the spell. He closed the distance, activated the laser axe, and chopped at the strange boxy machine until its beat stopped. In the end he stood panting over a smoking, stuttering ruin of gears and wires. The heavy chains had struck him only once, but that one blow might have ended him if not for the helmet. He still felt dizzy, disoriented from that blow. ¡°Where did it come from?¡± he asked, speaking mainly to himself, although Frisby replied with a tiny little growl. Had it just been standing there, waiting for someone to come by? Was it a guard? Did Eric¡¯s presence trigger it somehow? Cautiously now, and with the headlamp turned off, he approached the huge open space. If he could judge its size correctly, basing his estimate on the array of lights illuminating a scattering of tiny spots in the darkness, he was looking at the interior of his moon. All of it. There was nothing there, mostly. A galaxy of tiny specks of lights glittered when he looked directly down over the edge, maybe hundreds of miles away. Those would have to be much brighter than mere streetlights. The tunnel opened into this space at an angle, and a metallic mesh walkway formed at the termination of the tunnel. This walkway ran without guardrails into the darkness over the yawning void. Eric walked a step out onto this walkway and crouched down. He¡¯d never been afraid of heights. He had stepped without concern onto the clear glass floor of the Skydeck in Chicago. But this gave him vertigo; it made his head spin. He couldn¡¯t quite accept the reality of a space like this even when he was looking at it. It was too fucking big. One of the lights to his left moved. Eric crouched and watched as it approached over the maze of hanging catwalks. He clicked the laser axe on and off a few times. If the light came too close and seemed threatening, he would cut the walkway. The light stopped a few dozen yards off. It looked like all the others, like a streetlamp, but it was being carried like a lantern by a person. This person looked 0% machine. Eric stood up. They regarded each other. The other figure snapped its fingers a few times in the silence. His hand flared with light at each snap. ¡°Are you him?¡± the man said at last. He had a young voice, and now Eric could see that his face, partly obscured by splotchy patches of shadow from the light he held, was thin and pale. Scratchy stubble adorned part of his chin. Eric rubbed his own chin without thinking. Hardly anything there, of course. He guessed the stranger to be around twenty years old. He looked like a regular college guy on the streets of Chicago, though maybe a little dirtier. ¡°Am I who?¡± Eric asked. ¡°The hero,¡± the man replied in a tired but interested voice. ¡°The time guy. The heart. Is that you?¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°You have the hexagon?¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± The man nodded to himself. ¡°Good,¡± he said. ¡°I thought I heard her stirring up there.¡± ¡°Who?¡± ¡°Eranex. The dragon. Have you seen her?¡± Eric nodded, then realized he still had his light turned off and he was probably a figure of shadow. He clicked his light back on. ¡°Yeah,¡± he said again. ¡°My name¡¯s Eric. Who are you?¡± ¡°Me? Oh, I¡¯m Jacob Hollow.¡± Chapter 22 Chapter 22 Isaac Isaac Milton had too much to do. Too many tasks demanded his attention, or so he imagined, and each of them seemed both important and time-consuming. There was, for example, the AI he was clearly expected to program and activate. There was the defense matrix around his station to configure. There were telescopes to learn how to operate, there was an entire planet to observe and study below, and there were five other moons¨C¡®other¡¯ in this context meaning ¡®existent.¡¯ He had no view of one moon, to be fair, as it was diametrically opposite his own station. Then there was this matter of doors, and how to find them, and how to start collecting them on his platform. And then there was the fact that he had not yet had time to satisfactorily study and interact with Charlie. Just how smart was he? How much did he know? And was he, maybe, female like Callie? And speaking of females, what was going on with the others? Apparently Heidi was fighting something? That sounded serious. And then there was the matter of the ghosts in his station. Or perhaps the ghost; it might be just one. He heard voices, whispers, not audibly but in his mind. He thought they were trying to tell him to configure something. Well this station was up to its portholes in Potentially Configurable Equipment. Sometimes things in his station moved on their own. Tools fell from shelves on the other side of the room. Small devices powered up. Sometimes objects or areas became uncomfortably warm, or cool. It was like the work of a determined but fairly ineffectual poltergeist. It had creeped him out initially, but after the first day, he no longer felt personally threatened by these developments. Whatever was going on, he didn¡¯t seem to be in any danger from it. Curiosity compelled him to try to discover what it was the ghost wanted him to configure. He had thus begun a project on the most obvious answer: the AI. He had learned that the floating cube on which he first appeared was in fact a single enormous computer of staggering complexity and power. It would run the station, get everything ship-shape, and be the brain of an AI supposedly under his authority. It had a name: ARKO, which looked to Isaac like an acronym, although he didn¡¯t know what it stood for. ARKO counted itself among the many things on his station which could be configured. It had occurred to Isaac that the ghosts were some kind of meta-physical manifestation or echo of the AI itself seeking to live again, and that once reactivated it would initiate some doomsday device that Isaac himself would then be required to shut down, resulting in a confrontation between himself and the sinister force he had unwittingly loosed on the world. Possibly he would have to die heroically. He didn¡¯t really believe this, or any of the other drastic worst-case scenarios which came to mind, which was why he spent most of his first full day onboard the Void Station attempting to configure and reactivate ARKO. He wore a sleek black and silver jumpsuit for this task, drifting around his station with the artificial gravity disabled because why the heck would he want fake gravity when he could float around everywhere? The task was surprisingly easy. Isaac Milton knew next to nothing of coding, or programming, or whatever technological wizardry produced advanced computer programs back on Earth. But the Void Station, as he had told Heidi, ran on sci-fi rules. This meant that activating something was usually as easy as flipping a switch. It also meant that certain consoles had big red buttons resting ominously under plastic shielding. And he knew with a science-fiction nerd¡¯s certainty that once he got ARKO up and running it would take care of pretty much all the mundane functions and upkeep of the station, leaving him free to explore. And it could probably answer a lot of his questions. It was like a puzzle, one which he partially made up as he went along. He activated the core processors by flipping breaker-like switches hidden behind the cold-storage unit. He started warming up the plastic neural tissue sorting grid. He located the arc-wave array and set it to receive incoming signals from registered sources. He made sure the laser turret systems were operating on automatic detection and filtering life signs so they wouldn¡¯t shoot anything living. He located the primary ARKO memory core and fiddled around with the settings. He stared with suspicion at a lampshade resting innocuously upon a book titled Why do the Moons of Ardia Exhibit Standard Gravitational Fields? He had no idea what he was doing. So he configured the settings, unaware of what ¡°ARKOpmSRC[dat.0/default.5]:¡± meant, and whether it would be wise to leave it at .5 or set it down to 0. (He compromised on this by turning it to .8) He changed most of the settings randomly, wondering what the worst that could happen might be and ably supplying himself with possible answers derived from his vast knowledge of 20 th -century pulp sci-fi novels. The ghosts redoubled their efforts to get his attention. When making a sandwich for himself in the kitchen, he got the sensation of being watched. The glass of milk which he had extracted from some kind of Star-Trek food materializer fell when his back was turned, spilling across the white plastic counter. This could have been a malfunction in the artificial gravity, but he doubted it. He sighed and located some towels. When he returned to clean up the mess, he saw that the milk ran with swirls of color: blood-red, sky-blue, orange-orange (ha ha), which mingled with the slowly-spreading milk as though drops of food-coloring had been mixed in. Charlie (meadowlark form!) hopped onto the counter to investigate. He prodded the outer edges of the spilled milk, chirping in indignation at this outrage. ¡°Yeah, no joke,¡± Isaac agreed. But he lowered the towel and watched. The colors moved with intent; this was clear. They curled and straightened even when the milk puddle had come to rest without draining over the edge of the counter. They formed shapes; the shapes bent. Static electricity crackled over Isaac, which he knew was bad news in a space station. Charlie twittered in fear. The colored symbols came to rest. Isaac automatically raised his phone and took a few pictures from different angles. Four. Four distinct symbols, fairly complex, made of spikes and curved lines. They might have been abstract renderings of something, or pictograms, or words in a complex language. He hadn¡¯t yet seen anything like this on the station. Isaac reached out with the towel and wiped part of them away. He waited to see whether they would reform. They did not. He checked the rest of the milk to see if it had all changed colors. It had not. Thank goodness. ¡°I, uh, don¡¯t understand,¡± he said, in case the ghosts were listening. ¡°I can¡¯t read that.¡± Could they understand him? A knife on the counter, which he had used to make the sandwich, rotated. It turned like the needle of a compass. It gave Isaac an idea. He searched the kitchen for something small and metallic that had an obvious front end. At this time he discovered his ability to create temporary objects using the ceramic hexagon. This new skill distracted him for a while. He could make anything! Well, not anything . His attempts to create complex items met with failure, though he had hopes that he could figure it out. But he could make a wrench, a toothbrush, a footstool, a glass of milk, a plastic bird that looked like Charlie, and a mirror. All of it formed from a silvery mist that flowed from the hexagon, and all of it dissipated to mist once he stopped thinking about it. From the mist they were born and to the mist they returned. He couldn¡¯t actually drink the milk. Or he could, but he could feel it turn back to cool mist in his stomach, which was a strange sensation and not very filling. He found that he had limited reserves of mist. He could tell, after a long session of experimentation, that he couldn¡¯t create as much material as he could before. Did it have to recharge? A close examination of the ceramic hexagon revealed no obvious way of measuring its creative potential. The six symbols glowed faintly, same as ever. He concluded that it probably had to recharge. It would be pretty overpowered if he could just keep making anything he needed at any time. Overpowered? A voice whispered in the back of his head. For what? A few days ago, he would have unthinkingly assumed this was his own thought rising to the surface from the murky depths of his subconscious. Now he was not so sure. The ghost? Whatever the source, the question made him uneasy. Obviously, something was expected of the six of them. Obviously, they had been dropped into some narrative that had been prepared for them. They were supposed to be here; they were supposed to do something. It was like a game of Pathfinder. Which meant, of course, danger. Risk. The possibility of getting one¡¯s throat torn out by a bullet from a thundering silver revolver. He didn¡¯t like that thought at all. Especially since, as he had told Eric, he was pretty sure he had already used his one extra life. If he understood correctly, somewhere on Earth still lay the dead body of Isaac Milton, himself. It would have been cleaned off the street by now. Maybe it was in a morgue. Maybe people had come to cry over it. Dwayne? The thought made him shudder, and it seemed that gravity moved beneath him. He gripped the counter. Dwayne would probably¡­ Probably what? He had no idea. Something entirely better than anything Isaac could think of. That was the thing about Dwayne. Eric had seen Dwayne with Leah. That meant they were fine, right? Right. Of course. What could possibly happen to Dwayne, anyway? God loved Dwayne Hartman. Isaac shook himself free of such needless introspection. Back to business. He imagined a large compass into being. A compass ought to be useless here on the station, especially if its needle was just tin, which it was. A white tin pointer on a swivel in a circular plastic box. Simple. He watched it for a moment. The needle did not move. When he shook it into a different position, there it remained. ¡°Okay,¡± he said to the kitchen, and to the alert meadowlark watching from the sink. ¡°I still don¡¯t know if you can hear me, or even understand me, whoever you are. So I guess¡­I mean, I think we need to try to establish a line of communication, right?¡± He waited. Nothing happened. ¡°So¡­uh, if you can hear me, then can you, like, move the needle?¡± He attempted to demonstrate this visually by pointing at himself and then at the compass in his hand. He felt like an idiot, and his face flushed with heat. No one was watching, he reminded himself. But that wasn¡¯t true, exactly. Charlie was watching, and for all he knew, Charlie was more intelligent than himself. And maybe ghosts were watching. The compass in his hand became warm, uncomfortably warm. But the needle didn¡¯t move. Then the compass vibrated. The hairs all over Isaac¡¯s body stood on end from static electricity, and he knew he would be in for a shock the next time he touched something. But still, no movement from the needle. He almost laughed. Was his ghost an idiot? Could it not figure out how to move a needle? Maybe it had limited powers. Maybe it could knock over a glass of milk, but could not move something as small as the needle. Maybe it didn¡¯t understand what he¡¯d asked. Or maybe there were like five ghosts and they were all arguing and wrestling around and shouting at each other in the ethereal realm beyond his own mortal perceptions. But then, finally, the needle moved. It spun, slowly at first, then faster until it became a blur and the compass quivered in his palm. ¡°Okay¡­¡± said Isaac. What next? ¡°If you can understand me, stop the needle so it points at me.¡± The needle slowed down and came to rest pointing at Isaac. ¡°Now at Charlie. That¡¯s the bird.¡± After a delay of several seconds, the needle crept around until it aimed at Charlie. Isaac felt a rush of exultation at his own cleverness. The ghost could understand him! And now they could communicate, though inefficiently. But what next? Maybe a compass wasn¡¯t the best means of communication after all. Maybe he should set up, like, a Ouija board? That might work. Wasn¡¯t that how one normally communicated with ghosts? The thought struck him as funny, but it also made him a little nervous. Charlie warbled at him. He sounded just like a meadowlark from back home. ¡°What?¡± asked Isaac. Then he saw the needle had shifted. It aimed, rock-steady, to his left. Directly into a wall. He left the remains of the spilled milk and walked carefully to the nearest door in that direction, keeping his attention on the needle. Eventually, though it took a half hour, he found what the ghost wanted him to find. Part of the delay was because of the compass¡¯s inability to show elevation. Most of the delay lay in the fact that his target was on the exterior of the Void Station. Which meant that he had to find his spacesuit¨Cand yes, he had a spacesuit. And it was awesome. It was sleek, flexible, matte black with mesh fibers and detail work in purple and blue. He maintained his full range of motion while wearing it. Even the gloves hardly restricted his fingers. He could almost play the piano in them. The helmet fit his head perfectly, and the faceplate was black and reflective from the outside. From inside, once the suit powered on, displays appeared before him, not as though written on the faceplate two inches in front of his eyes but as though hovering in the air at arm¡¯s reach. He soon discovered that he could interact with these displays physically. Haptic feedback systems made him feel a slight pressure when he touched the projected glowing menus and dials, as though they were real and required a minor effort to move. He ignored most of the menus, checking only ¡°Vitals¡± and ¡°Basic Functions.¡± Both seemed good. Everything was in English, though the text was digitized and futuristic. Naturally . The suit had tried and failed to connect with ARKO, and it appeared that most of its functions were offline as a result. Which was too bad, because ¡°Armament¡± and ¡°Spatial Distortion Field,¡± among others, made his pulse race. He was so distracted by his new gift that he forgot about the compass and the ghosts. A spare helmet crashing to the floor from its hook, an unlikely accident, reminded him. He put the helmet back, checked it for damage, and wished he knew where the ghosts were watching from so that he could give them a stern look for breaking his stuff. ¡°After this,¡± he said out loud, ¡°I¡¯ll work out a better way of communicating.¡± He sealed the room, spent a minute fiddling with the touchpad by the airlock, and then with a hiss and a whoosh he was gazing into the blackness of space. In that moment, as he looked out into the star-dusted void through the window of a circular airlock blinking with lights, his whole life compressed into a single instant. He was a child, watching and re-watching old space movies until he knew every line, every gesture made by the actors, the exact timing of the alarm sirens. He was a slightly older child, out in a field looking at stars, consulting with a star-chart he¡¯d printed out and didn¡¯t know how to use, unaware that he¡¯d printed a southern-hemisphere chart, getting frustrated. He was in a bright, dusty playground, explaining to a wide-eyed Jimothy about how it felt like to be in zero-gravity, and how astronauts could suck floating globlets of juice right out of the air like a whale shark eating jellyfish. And now he remembered: Jimothy had painted this once. This exact scene that he saw, was seeing right now. A wave of d¨¦j¨¤ vu washed over him, put him off-balance. But it didn¡¯t matter that he was off balance, because ¡°down¡± had ceased to be a thing for him. He was weightless; he could fly; he was a speck in the interstitial sea of nothingness that embraced and connected all the mind-numbing vastness of existence. He shivered as he looked out of the airlock into the starry black of space. It was a shudder of sheer delight. This¨Che had always wanted this. He knew he was smiling a big stupid grin, and he blinked tears out of his eyes because he couldn¡¯t wipe them with his fingers. But that didn¡¯t matter, because no one could see his face. From the outside he was just some badass astronaut with a faceless black visor, about to go on a spacewalk because the space ghosts were telling him to. He laughed, and he heard his laugh reproduced by the helmet, its uncomfortably accurate reproduction of his voice flecked with slight static. (Somehow he knew that the faint distortion in his audio feed was intentional, added for effect.) Charlie, now an eagle, swooped out into the darkness of space, where he had no trouble soaring in graceful arcs despite the lack of wind or gravity. With a slight kick of his feet, Isaac drifted out into the darkness. He slowly cleared the airlock, then realized he didn¡¯t know how to steer. He wasn¡¯t worried, though. ¡°Uh, computer,¡± he said, and felt the vibrations of his voice being transmitted through the helmet. ¡°Mute external¡­uh, speakers.¡± A green symbol appeared in the corner of his vision within arm¡¯s reach. It turned red, lingered for a moment, then vanished. Isaac remembered that here in a vacuum his external speakers were meaningless. ¡°ARKO?¡± he asked experimentally. ARKO: Offline , the helmet responded. The words appeared in pale blue letters at the bottom of his vision. He had turned sideways in relation to the airlock, and still coasted away from the station at a steady drift. ¡°Computer,¡± he said, ¡°stabilize.¡± And just like that, with a slight sensation of pressure at his elbows and back, he became perfectly still with relation to the Void Station. ¡°Right. How much oxygen do I have left?¡± He had noticed, in putting on the suit, that it had a small tank strapped to the back. It hadn¡¯t looked like much. 99% Estimated duration remaining: 00:04:32 Four and a half hours? That was less time than astronauts had for their spacewalks, but he supposed that was just a tradeoff for the streamlined suit. It still seemed like a lot. No way he¡¯d be out here for four hours! He worried about whether he¡¯d be able to recreate the compass that had been guiding him, and his fears were justified. The ceramic coaster was still around his neck, inside the suit. This puzzled him for a minute, but again he became distracted by the sights around him and the exhilaration of no-gravity. The planet caught his eye, the one his station and the others¡¯ moons were orbiting. Blue and green and white. Now that he got a clearer look¡­were those square lakes? They marked a green plain, placed in an almost-but-not-quite grid formation. What the heck? He wanted to go to his telescopes and take a closer look. A small rock tapped his visor, jarring him from these thoughts. This alarmed him at first, for his mind went to the dangers of space debris that could come hurtling past an orbital station at a relative five-thousand miles per hour. But the rock in question moved slowly, a fist-sized chunk of boring grey rock. It rotated in the air as it spun lazily away from his visor. Then it slowed to a stop, and ever-so-gradually moved back toward Isaac. He watched it come, and did not flinch when it again lightly tapped his visor. Then he understood. The ghost! He seemed to be an impatient one. But how to navigate without the compass¡­ The answer, of course, was right in front of him. ¡°Okay,¡± he said. ¡°Use the rock. Take me there.¡± He didn¡¯t know whether the ghost could now hear him. But the rock began to gently accelerate alongside the exterior of the station. ¡°Computer,¡± he said, already longing for the time when he could instead say a name as quick and cool as ¡°ARKO,¡± ¡°show me how to steer this thing.¡± Piloting tutorial commencing. It took about three minutes. He could activate two joystick-like holograms within easy reach, and then, though they were but projections on the inside of his visor, steer himself with his hands as though he were piloting a larger machine. The joysticks could be customized to take many forms, but he left it at default for the moment. A secondary, more subtle means of piloting his suit involved activating delicate sensors in his gloves that would propel him about with only slight movements of his fingers. But his ghost was impatient, so instead of messing about with the finer details of locomotion, he grabbed hold of the joysticks, canceled the tutorial, and followed the rock. The Void Station looked cool from the outside. It was not all sleek and shiny and clean like the interior. Parts of the station had exposed circuitry and wiring, not plated in the pale paneling that covered large swaths of the station. There were satellite dishes, antennae, viewing windows, portholes, and strange bulky protrusions all scattered around the tangled mass of the station. The part of the station with the cube platform was slowly revolving toward him. He became increasingly adventurous in his maneuvering as he followed the drifting rock. Spaceflight came naturally to him, apparently. By the time the rock stopped moving, he was able to spin around in any direction and steady himself again with only minimal disorientation. Even without the sensors inside the visor, he never lost track of the relative positions of things. He¡¯d always been good with directions, after all. The rock had come to a stop near a nested set of satellite dishes. The dishes, made of a white plastic material, were all divided into a series of intersecting rings. Many of the rings had gaps in them. They looked like a puzzle to be solved. The rock drifted toward a control panel next to these dishes, struck the panel, and then glanced off at an oblique angle. It spun away into the darkness, apparently no longer under ghostly possession. A thick layer of clear glassy material covered the control panel. The switches and dials beneath were visible, but he could not touch them. A sign above the panel read: ¡°Void Moon¨CIcarus¨Ccommunications array.¡± He gazed at this for a moment before it hit him. His moon! He did have a moon! Or he was supposed to? Maybe the functional operation of a communications array could assist in the unraveling of this mystery. He could not access the panel, but a black screen nearby looked promising. He tapped it, and it blinked to life at the touch of his glove. ¡°Computer,¡± he said, thinking that he probably didn¡¯t need to say ¡®computer¡¯ every time, ¡°open the Void Moon communications array control panel.¡± The screen blinked to life and displayed a brief message in green text: ARKO authorization required. ¡°Override?¡± Override accepted. But nothing happened. The screen flashed again. Error: unable to connect to ARKO terminal. Hmm. ¡°Maybe,¡± he said for the benefit of his ghostly listeners, ¡°I need to get ARKO running first. That¡¯s probably a good idea.¡± Static electricity sparked on the metal around the console, as if in frustration. Isaac took a long look at the control panel. Maybe he would find therein a clue as to the identity of these ghosts. Why would they want him to activate this array? Did they want him to reestablish contact with his missing moon? Were they not ghosts at all, but the manifestations of powerful psions on the lost moon, seeking his attention and aid? Were they ghosts indeed, but vengeful ones that wanted the lost moon found so that retribution could be exacted and/or justice applied? Was he being distracted, perhaps led on a wild goose chase to prevent him from getting ARKO online? Were enemy forces massing, even now, in preparation to assault a space station the defenses of which were known to be mostly inactive? Or maybe¡ª Something on the control panel cut his speculations short. He pressed a hand up against the glass, accidentally pushing himself out away from the station. He steered himself back and inspected what had startled him. ¡°Activate CHIME,¡± it read, there beside a simple on/off switch. And, next to it, ¡°Trans-lunar frequency jammer.¡± And there, ¡°House relay system,¡± which showed a hexagon, and ¡°Skywater patch.¡± ¡°Take a screenshot,¡± he said absently as he read. The image froze for a fraction of a second before sliding down into a storage icon at the bottom of his vision. ¡°Skywater?¡± he said. ¡°What¡¯s¨C¡± His visor interrupted him by projecting a small pulsing arrow into his view. It pointed up, to his right, and slightly forward. Skywater door , it read beside the arrow. A door? ¡°Locate Skywater City,¡± he said. Error: unable to connect to ARKO ¡°Distance to Skywater door.¡± 3,734 ft. Feet? ¡°Meters.¡± 1,138 ¡°Um. Leagues.¡± .2357 ¡°Leagues to the tenth place.¡± .2357323232 ¡°Cubits!¡± 2489 ¡°Awesome.¡± He reached out for the steering controls and they appeared in the air. He closed his hands on the two joysticks, marveling at how he felt the pressure as though they were real. ¡°Deactivate HUD,¡± he said. There hadn¡¯t been a lot of clutter in his vision, just the arrow, the joysticks, and a few numbers at the bottom. But it all went away. His black-gloved hands grasped at solid nothing in front of him. ¡°HUD back on,¡± he said. ¡°Plot course to Skywater door.¡± A green line appeared. ¡°Autopilot?¡± But ARKO was required for the autopilot function. He steered himself away from the Void Station at an angle away from the blue planet, up into the stars and to the nearby debris. Perhaps¡­was that debris the remains of his moon? That would suck. He asked the computer about his fuel reserves and received a confusing message in reply: Void Station fuel reserves: --- ¡°Spacesuit fuel reserves.¡± Void Suit: fuel not found. ¡°Fuel not found?¡± Void Suit: fuel not found. And yet here he was, moving through space. He could feel himself changing direction, speeding up and slowing down with the pressure he exerted on the joysticks. Something was moving him. He tried to get a feel for where the thrusters were, where the propelling force was coming from. But he couldn¡¯t tell. Maybe it was a glitch. He just moved. The green line took him to a gray asteroid, roughly the size of his old house in Pikeston. It was rocky and pock-marked, a chunky agglomerate of stone and gravel. It rotated at a stately pace. A door came into view as he rounded this asteroid, a sleek silvery arch through which he saw the star-speckled blackness of space beyond. Something flashed through the darkness behind the door¨Csomething brilliant, white, huge, winged. At first he assumed it was Charlie. Then he grasped the scope of what he saw, and he was sure Charlie had never been the size of a pterodactyl before. He remembered having glimpsed something like this when he first arrived. How had he been stupid enough to just fly out here, defenseless, when he knew that something was out here? It had been a Real Bad Move, now that he thought about it. The creature, which looked generically birdlike yet simultaneously unlike any bird Isaac had ever seen, came to rest on a chunk of rock some distance away. Perspective played tricks on Isaac. Just how far away was that creature? He¡¯d at first thought of a pterosaur, but was it actually the size of an airplane? A zeppelin? He had no reference save for distant featureless rocks. The white bird-creature flapped a wing, and every space-rock in sight ceased movement entirely. All at once, the slow movement of the field of debris became a still image. A lurching vertigo afflicted Isaac; his brain stalled as he tried to process the pause in his vision. And then the bird opened its eyes, and its eyes were like the sun itself. Isaac cried out reflexively. His visor darkened in an instant to adjust to the sudden change in illumination, with the result that nothing was visible but two glowing eyes in the midst of absolute darkness. This was worse, much worse. And still he did not know how far they were, and this instilled him with a cold, visceral, inexplicable dread. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. He couldn¡¯t help looking at the eyes: unblinking, full of light, fathomless light, rainbows of color of such brilliance that no color existed at all, visual music at a pitch no one could hear, data distilled to such raw fragments that no computer could process it, light so simply itself that no eye could see it. Darkness. Someone screaming. Pain. Darkness: eyes closed. Someone screaming: himself, in his own helmet. Loud. He stopped. Pain: his eyes, his brain. ¡°Introducing anesthetic,¡± said a soft, featureless voice in his left ear. Hello, anesthetic, he thought, I¡¯m Isaac. The air he breathed gained a minty flavor. That voice was so boring. What voice would he give to ARKO? A posh British accent? Naw, too clich¨¦. Maybe an Australian outback drawl. Steve Irwin. That would be hilarious. Or perhaps Stephen Hawking? Then he remembered why he¡¯d been screaming, and why his head hurt. Or he partly remembered. He remembered the general idea. Eyes. Light. He recalled enough to realize that he really, really didn¡¯t want to remember any of the details. ¡°What the hell,¡± he muttered, not even ashamed at his perhaps-borderline swearing. ¡°Computer, what was that?¡± But apparently that was a question for ARKO. He could see again out of his visor. Everything looked normal. There was the blue planet, there were the asteroids and various debris. They were all moving again. He remembered that moment of stillness and shivered. And there, not ten feet away to his left, was the sleek silver arch, a gateway gleaming in the starlight. His visor labeled it in green text: ¡°Skywater.¡± He approached, coasted lightly through the void to touch the door. Its only feature was a black panel affixed to one side. EE: Are you available for conversation? The words appeared in the lower right of his field of vision in a little box labeled CHIME. IM: Whoa. I wonder what that¡¯s about. He had spoken that out loud, not intending to send it as a message. IM: Oh. Um, deactivate voice? IM: Deactivate voice to text. VS: Error: unable to connect to ARKO. IM: Yeah, yeah. IM: What does ¡°VS¡± stand for? VS: Void Suit¡ªmodel 17.1 IM: How did you know to put quotation marks around ¡°VS?¡± VS: Error: unable to connect to ARKO. IM: You did it again! EE: Is this a bad time? IM: No, no, it¡¯s fine. I¡¯m not texting is all; I¡¯m just speaking into my spacesuit. EE: It has better grammar and punctuation than you. EE: What is ARKO? IM: Some kind of supercomputer I need to, uh, ¡°configure.¡± IM: There, see? It did it again! IM: How does it know? IM: Void Suit, define ARKO. VS: Error: unable to connect to ARKO. IM: Ahem. EE: Did you just say ¡°ahem?¡± IM: No, I just cleared my throat. IM: I ¡°cleared¡± my throat. IM: Cleared. IM: ¡°Cleared.¡± IM: You seeing this? EE: Yes. ¡°Weird.¡± IM: Wait, wait, one more. IM: ... EE: I am still waiting, Isaac. IM: ... EE: Though I must admit I am now harboring doubts concerning the usefulness of this conversation. IM: Did you see that?! EE: The ellipses? Yes. IM: HOW? EE: Very strange. I¡¯ll try again later, shall I? IM: No, I¡¯m good now. This place is just crazy. EE: It is indeed. In fact, it is on this subject that I wanted to speak to you. IM: Craziness? EE: Specifically as it relates to our current environment. Our moons. IM: Right. I don¡¯t have one. A moon, I mean. EE: But we are all in the same place, correct? Broadly speaking. IM: Correct! You guys all have moons that are in synchronous, equidistant orbit around a planet. My station is in a field of like asteroids and debris and stuff where my moon ought to be, or maybe was. IM: Your moons are about 3,000 kilometers in circumference IM: And Ardia, the planet, is around 10,000, which is about as much as the real Moon back on Earth IM: Which raises questions about gravity and stuff, but whatever IM: The planet and moons are inside like this shell of stars, and I don¡¯t know if anything¡¯s beyond them. IM: The distance from Ardia to the stars at the edge of this little universe is about the same as from Earth to the Moon IM: Around 400,000 kilometers. EE: I was not asking for all the statistics. IM: Don¡¯t you think it¡¯s interesting? To know the sizes and distances? EE: You sound like Kate. EE: What about this Bright World? IM: It¡¯s way far out, close to the Empyrean. That¡¯s where the stars are. It and the Dark World orbit perpendicularly to our moons. EE: Perpendicularly? IM: Imagine a 3D Cartesian coordinate system with Ardia in the center. If the moons orbit on the XZ plane, then the Bright World orbits on the YZ plane and the Dark World orbits on the XY plane. EE: I understand. EE: I think. EE: I am impressed. You really do sound like Kate. IM: Which moon is yours? Maybe I can see it! IM: One of the moons is directly opposite me across the planet, so I can¡¯t see that one. IM: I don¡¯t know whose moon is whose, but I¡¯m pretty sure I will once I get ARKO up and running. EE: Sisyphus, the Garden Moon. It is probably white from a distance. IM: Zoom. IM: Maximum magnification. IM: Whoa, not that much. Back up. IM: Like, 70%? IM: Look, see how it did the number for 70? And the % sign? IM: Seventy. 70. Percent. %. EE: Truly your suit¡¯s transcriptive powers know no bounds. IM: Yeah I think I see your moon. IM: I¡¯m in space! EE: I know. IM: No, I mean I¡¯m actually in a spacesuit, outside my station, in space, right now. EE: Oh. EE: Okay, that is pretty cool. EE: What does my moon look like? IM: Well, it¡¯s like you said. White. That¡¯s about¨Cno wait. Yeah, it¡¯s shaped weird. It¡¯s not perfectly round. IM: Increase zoom 10%. IM: Looks like a huge mountain! IM: If you can call it that, when it covers like a quarter of your whole moon. EE: Ah. EE: Yes, it seems I need to climb that mountain and make a flower grow. IM: A flower? EE: Because my moon, the Garden Moon, is covered in endless winter. Yes, like Narnia. IM: Like Narn¨Coh, come on. EE: And I need to make the flower bloom on top of that mountain. They say it is impossible. IM: Well...is it? EE: I haven¡¯t been there yet. But my moon is named Sisyphus. EE: You know what that means, correct? IM: Yeah, I think so. EE: And your moon is named Icarus? IM: Yeah. Or, like, it was, maybe? EE: Eric¡¯s moon is named Pyrrhus. IM: Yeah, okay, I get it. Like in ¡°pyrrhic victory,¡± right? IM: It really does have better spelling than me. IM: But yeah, like, ominous. EE: I do not know how to say this with accuracy, but we find ourselves in some kind of story. Do you agree? ? IM: I do. You¡¯re right. From what I can tell, though we haven¡¯t been here long, each of us has like some kind of theme. Like mine is ¡°space.¡± So: space station, ¡°Void Moon,¡± whatever. And my symbol is a cube because that represents three-dimensional space. And it¡¯s all because I love space and science-fiction and stuff. Kate has like a fairy-tale palace or whatever because she loves fairy tales. And her thing is ¡°sky?¡± Don¡¯t know what that means. EE: Right. IM: So what are you asking, exactly? EE: I want to hear what you think. Your viewpoint on all of this. IM: ...okay? EE: I value your insight on the topic of story and narrative. IM: Wha¨CI mea...really? EE: Really. I do actually read your book suggestions, Isaac. EE: Most of them. IM: Hmm. Well, okay. So it¡¯s obvious that this place has been prepared for us specifically. There are six of us, six moons. We each match our moon. I have a piano on my space station, because I play piano. I bet you¡¯ve got a lot of books, a garden, something related to dance? EE: Correct. IM: Maybe like opera singers prancing around everywhere? EE: There would be nothing wrong with that. IM: It would be hilarious if there were actual musical numbers happening all the time on your moon. EE: Moving on... IM: Yeah. So that means that either someone or something prepared this world for us ahead of time, somehow knowing we would come... EE: Or? ? IM: Or, like, it was spontaneously generated when we arrived? Seeded, like a randomized videogame at the start, using presets based on ourselves. EE: We did not arrive simultaneously. Jimothy and I were first, then you and Kate. And when you arrived, you could see that all the moons were present, correct? IM: Yeah, I see. I saw Heidi¡¯s weird moon before she got here. Maybe it happened while we were in the Museum? That place has definitely got something to do with it. Did you know Kate¡¯s been going there in her sleep for years? That¡¯s why she answers her phone at all hours of the day and night¨Cbecause she can do it there. Also CHIME works there, and here. There are settings for CHIME on my station. EE: It was you who introduced all of us to CHIME. IM: Right, but I just like randomly found it online. Or maybe it was like in an email or something... IM: Huh. IM: Anyway, that place is full of doors, and doors are clearly a theme here. IM: Oh yeah! And there¡¯s that Dark Man. Maybe he¡¯s behind all of this. EE: The Dark Man? IM: He¡¯s like the caretaker of the Museum or whatever. Curator? Custodian, maybe? EE: So what is your guess as to what happens next? IM: Well sounds like you¡¯ve already got a quest. EE: This is not a game. IM: Like, but, really though? Are you sure? EE: You think that each of us has some manner of quest, likely based on our respective settings and inclinations? EE: I do not like the idea that we have become pawns in some pre-arranged narrative. IM: Characters in a story! IM: I just remembered what we were talking about, me and Jacob. Jacob Hollow, he¡¯s this guy I met before I died. He said he was like a character from a story, like escaped into the real world or something. Maybe he meant something like that. EE: Before you what? IM: Died. I got shot. EE: I don¡¯t understand. EE: Clarify. EE: Are you okay? IM: I, yeah I¡¯m fine. So is Kate. You know, because...wait, did she not tell you? Has nobody told you? EE: Tell me. IM: Oh, wow. So both Kate and I, we, like...we died. On Earth. Like, right now, somewhere on Earth, our bodies are...there. Um, dead. I think. But for both of us, our angels got us out, like took away our souls or whatever, to the Museum. So I mean, Kate can explain this better than I can. Provided she¡¯s not using speech-to-text software like me, ha ha. But you also have like another body, I think. On Earth. But yours is still alive. I mean, hopefully. EE: Is this another joke, Isaac? If you are joking about Kate dying I will find a way to your space station and kill you for real. IM: I¡¯m serious! Ask Kate! Or maybe don¡¯t because I think she took it kind-of hard. Um, because... IM: Anyway, Jacob told me I had a ¡°role to play.¡± Heh. He said something about me being the one to figure everything out. Now that I think about it, it seems like he sort-of knew what was going to happen. Except about Black. EE: Hmm. I got the same impression from Amelia and Elmer. IM: Who? EE: They did seem like characters. EE: Right out of a book. IM: Yes! That¡¯s how Jacob was! And especially Black. Abraham Black, that¡¯s the guy that shot me. IM: Also, here¡¯s a mystery: I¡¯m pretty sure I¡¯m supposed to have a moon, or maybe I had one at some point, but something happened to it. EE: Perhaps that is your quest. IM: Heidi is fighting something, because she fights. EE: Eric is in a futuristic cityscape. IM: Right, ¡®cause he¡¯s a badass. EE: I wish I knew about Jimothy. IM: Oh, he¡¯s fine. EE: ? IM: I talked to him earlier. Sent a drone. He has my old phone. I don¡¯t need it with all my computers and stuff. EE: So. IM: Oh... EE: You confirmed that Jimothy is fine. IM: Yeah, sorry. EE: And you DID NOT TELL ANY OF US? IM: I was gonna patch him into the group chat, but he didn¡¯t want that. I think he was bummed about something and just wanted some alone time. EE: I respect your decision to acquiesce to his request. IM: Thank you. EE: But you are wrong. IM: Oh. EE: Jimothy needs to process externally. He needs to talk to people, Isaac, to work through all the thoughts that stack up in his mind. If something did happen to him, he needs someone to be there with him. IM: Well, he¡¯s got Hazel... IM: Fine. Yeah, his old number should work. I forgot to change the text color, though, so it¡¯ll be, you know, purple, until he changes it. EE: You entered this narrative with Kate? IM: Yeah, I guess. First time meeting her was in like a weirdo dream world. So yeah, sounds about right. IM: I thought I was dead, you know. IM: At first. EE: A revelatory psychological experience, no doubt. IM: Wow, just laugh it up, okay? I literally died. The last thing I felt was...cold. And the pain of it. And then...I thought...I woke up and I thought I was going to see Him. IM: Nice caps, VS. IM: Doing that Thing I Always Do in Text. IM: Heh. EE: I am sorry, Isaac. I did not mean to make light of a traumatic experience. ? EE: Well, I did. But that is what I am apologizing for. IM: Don¡¯t worry about it. EE: So was Kate okay? IM: Yeah, she¡¯s fine. I think. Like, I¡¯ve never met her before, so who knows. IM: She¡¯s pretty cool though. EE: She is. IM: Remember what she said about Skywater? Of course you do. I¡¯m here with what I¡¯m pretty sure is a door, and it¡¯s labeled ¡°Skywater.¡± EE: I found mine too. We should all meet up there soon. IM: Ok, cool. I¡¯ll just take a look. IM: Wait. What¡¯s that? ? IM: Zoom. Yeah, target. IM: Wait, ¡°target?¡± With...what, ¡°weapons systems?!¡± VS: Error: unable to connect to ARKO. IM: No, don¡¯t target. IM: ¡°Dark World?¡± That doesn¡¯t sound good. EE: What is it? IM: Um, something just breached the Void Station¡¯s security perimeter. A ship from the Dark World. Hostile, apparently? IM: This could be bad. I don¡¯t have ARKO up yet! EE: Well. EE: Good luck. IM: Wow, thanks. Okay, you too. Bye. IM: End transmission. The intruding vessel was evil. That was clear at a glance. If the things he suspected about this world were true, then certain tropes should hold true. He already found himself making assumptions about how things worked here. They worked the way things did in the science fiction stories he liked. And that ship, with its jagged, spiky outline, its black exterior, its red glow and the narrow, angled cockpit lights that looked like fierce eyes, was the Bad Guy. The reason why his defensive lasers could be set to target more than just space debris. He needed to get back to his station. He forgot for a moment how to control his suit. He simply reached out for the Void Station, futuristic and beautiful and awesome, as if that would help. And it did. Something shifted, a change shuddered through him, and he was back in the airlock. He stumbled with the sudden reassertion of gravity and flailed around in confusion. Then he remembered Charlie, who could teleport him. Right. He didn¡¯t see the bird around, which seemed odd, but he put that out of his mind. He also put away the thoughts it dredged up of another bird, even bigger and brighter. He ran for the nearest control panel. Chapter 23 Chapter 23 Kate Kaitlyn Carter woke up because something was tickling her nose. She held perfectly still even after she woke up. She opened one eye veerrrry slowly to see what was on her nose, although she thought she already knew. It was a butterfly, but it was not Navi. It was a real butterfly, although ¡°real¡± might have been a stretch, because she was pretty sure there weren¡¯t any on Earth with perfect double-logarithmic-spirals on the wings. She sat up in a sea of pillows, in a big bright box of a room. Her guitar leaned against one corner, and her lab coat leaned against the guitar, and both of them were all covered in mud. She was wearing new clothes: a simple loose shirt and pants, plain shiny white. They were so soft! They felt like silk, which made sense when she thought about it. She hugged herself, enjoying the softness, then jumped over to her guitar. She put it on, and the lab coat, although both were so muddy that dry flakes rained around her and got the carpet dirty, and she stepped right through the big square door. The Theians were waiting for her, and they cheered a strange warbling cheer when she emerged. She beamed at them as they fluttered about. The immense dome was full of trees and greenery with fogged glass for a ceiling. Many of the Theians were up in the air playing some game that involved tossing around colorful hoops. They all came down to meet her, and some of them acted like they knew her, although Kate couldn¡¯t remember much of what had happened the night before after they rescued her from the storm. She vaguely recalled one of them. His name was Mormo, and he had bright green angular patterns on his brown wings. He looked like a moth more than a butterfly, especially with his big feathery antennae, which she thought made him a male. None of them wore any clothes except for sometimes a shawl or a scarf or other accessory, but that was not a problem because Kate had been looking at naked Lepidoptera for as long as she could remember. Mormo and a female(?) butterfly named Polyom cleared a space around her, beseeching the excitable crowd to give her some room. For this, Kate was grateful. They backed away, with many a flash and flutter of brilliant gleaming wings and bright colors. Her heart leapt to see all of them! Was this what it was like to be in love? But after they had made space and had arrayed themselves into the most amazing crowd of spectators, both around her on the floor and up above her on perches and poles, they all stood quite still, looking at her. She counted around 30 of them, counting Mormo and Polyom, which meant that 60 compound eyes were looking at her, and also probably 60 ocelli, although some species didn¡¯t have those and she shouldn¡¯t make assumptions anyway, and were they really looking at her? Because it was pretty hard to tell with compound eyes, which were always kind-of looking at everything, and were they even really seeing her the way she saw them, with the same colors and everything, and oh my god, this was her chance to actually ask butterflies all the things she¡¯d always wanted to ask them: about how they see and what the world looks like to them and how it feels to fly and whether it¡¯s actually tiring and did they recognize each other (though these were people and had names so of course they did) but what about the pupae and caterpillars and why¨C A single white butterfly drifted down from above. The crowd stirred and murmured in response. It was Navi! And even though Navi was not cuddly like Callie, Kate still wanted to give her a hug. ¡°¡­Sky Child?¡± said Mormo. His voice was soft and feathery like his antennae. It was a warm, fuzzy, muffled voice. His maxillary galeae were complex and moved strangely when he spoke. Naturally there would be surprising variations in external morphology when dealing with humanoid Lepidoptera! Duh! Kate coughed, prepared to speak, and coughed again. Then she cleared her throat. Then she took a deep breath. ¡°H-h¨C(cough)¨Chi,¡± she said. I¡¯m nervous, she thought to herself. Butterflies in the stomach! The thought made her want to giggle. They probably wouldn¡¯t like that euphemism! Instead of returning her greeting, they kept waiting in what seemed like hushed silence. Kate took a deep breath, turned around, marched back into the room she had woken up in, and grabbed one of the brightly colored pillows. Its shape was odd, and she realized that it was made to look like a chrysalis. This made her happy because it was adorable. The pillow was yellow, with patchy pink and green overlapping shapes on it. She hugged it to herself and returned outside. The moths and butterflies were stirring, chittering and whispering to each other, but they quieted once she returned. ¡°I¡¯m K-ka-k¨CKaitlynCarter!¡± They cheered their high warbling cheers. She bowed. They kept cheering, so she bowed again with a silly flourish of her lab coat. They cheered at that too, and just like that, it seemed she had met their expectations. Was her name all they had wanted? No speech? She was just fine with not having to give a speech. They at once broke up and began conversing in a huge garble of varied speech. Some of them presented Kate with her medallion, her pink-and-green dress (washed clean), and her scarf. They asked about where she had come from, and what had happened out there the night before, and about her angel, and the wind, and the storms, and the palace, and all kinds of other questions that she could not answer. Mormo and Polyom, whose colors Kate thought she recognized from the night before, stood on either side of her like royal guards or bouncers. Mormo¡¯s thick green and brown thorax looked somehow intense and perhaps even manly for moths. Was this the moth equivalent of Alan Sheppard?! The thought made her giggle. Polyom, on the other tarsus, was delicate and lovely, with pink and purple coloration on her wings, marked with deep iridescent blue eyespots. Unlike Mormo¡¯s warm and feathery voice, Polyom¡¯s voice was high and melodic, a bit like a bird chirping. Kate became sure as she saw and heard more and more of the Theians that she had been right about the sexual dimorphism she mentioned to the others earlier: the males were moth-like, and the females were butterfly-like. A peculiar biological arrangement indeed! It made her curious about breeding and hybridization, but she considered that maybe questions of those sorts could be inappropriate. Though, she herself wouldn¡¯t be bothered to discuss such things about humans. Was there a Theian scientist she could talk to?! She continually scribbled notes in her notebook, short phrases or words like ¡°homeothermic?!¡± The Theians showed her a picture they had taken the evening before. It was printed on a thick, waxy sheet that was not quite like paper, and its coloration was peculiar. The picture looked faded, almost sepia-toned like an old photograph, yet some colors shone vibrantly. It took her a moment to remember that the spectrum of visible light for Lepidoptera was largely in the ultraviolet range. This picture likely did not look faded at all to them! They seemed proud of this photograph, yet Kate dearly hoped that none of her friends ever saw this picture, ever, for the Kaitlyn Carter depicted therein was covered in mud, her hair a tangled mass of dried black muck that looked more like a tentacled alien creature attacking her head from behind. Her glasses were askew, one lens cracked. She gripped her guitar awkwardly in one hand and a muddy ribbon of scarf in the other. She looked confused and cold and happy all at the same time like some wild half-drowned castaway that had washed up on shore after a storm. But at least there was no shattered-glass scar on her face. There was that. The Theians mothered over the bruises on her knees and the various other minor cuts and injuries she had sustained. They treated Navi with special honor, but Navi just acted like a strangely attentive butterfly. Kate had hoped the Theians could speak to Navi, but this didn¡¯t seem to be the case. Then they ushered Kate into another big warm room with a lot of open space up above for flying. It had deciduous trees and a dome of fogged windows high above, just like the previous room. The perpetual storms dimmed the natural light from outside, so glowing balls hung about the trees like huge Christmas lights to add illumination. Here they ate breakfast. Breakfast for the Theians was exactly as Kate expected. The main courses were broad dishes full of overripe fruits and a variety of juices served in tall, narrow glasses that looked more like vases or hookahs. There were also bowls of pollen, sugar, and other powdery substances that could be mixed into the beverages at will. Some Theians crafted complex cocktails, shaking and pouring like professional bartenders. The Theians acquired their breakfast on the ground and then fluttered up to the mossy branches of flourishing subtropical trees to eat in small groups. Watching them fly made Kate wonder how much they weighed. It didn¡¯t look like it could be very much! She wondered if this also was something it might be impolite to ask. She was the center of attention when Mormo and Polyom led her to the mat on the floor where the food waited. Activity ceased when she arrived, which made her nervous. Every one of the marvelous multi-faceted eyes was watching her. Polyom pointed out a side mat that Kate had not noticed before. It contained piles of leaves, cut grass, vegetables, nuts, and raw meat, some of it beginning to rot. Polyom watched, wringing her two pairs of tarsi in front of her as Kate inspected this collection. It took a moment for Kate to understand, but she laughed when she did. They didn¡¯t know what she ate! They had just collected a variety of potential foods in hopes that some of them would please her. She laughed harder when she saw the neat stacks of different rocks, the blocks of melting ice, and the bowl of live insects. Her laughter caused a nervous stir, but she was quick to point out the foods she desired. She told Polyom that she didn¡¯t eat meat or grass or rocks. Polyom nodded in sage understanding and assured Kate that they would do their best to acquiesce to any of her requests. Kate ate fruits and nuts for breakfast, some of them mysterious, and washed them down with plain water and one of the juices. The juice she chose was a bloody-orange in color, but it certainly was not orange juice! It had a peculiar spicy kick to it, which was not unpleasant but took some getting used to. She wanted to try them all! She talked to the Theians all throughout breakfast. They spoke English just fine, though their voices were sometimes difficult to understand. They were all so friendly! Many questions were asked. The Theians were a curious people. Kate learned about the problems caused by the perpetual storms and the looming threat of the storm worms which generated them. A series of derechos swept incessantly around the Cloud Moon, preventing travel, destroying crops and buildings, and just generally making things difficult. Amongst these problems, the greatest might be that their young would not metamorphose! Entire nurseries full of pupae lay dormant, and had for many years. This was a very serious problem indeed. Talk of the storm worms made Kate recall the previous night, how she thought she had seen vague shapes in the thunderheads, partially outlined by flashes of lightning. She had heard something beyond thunder from the storm, and it had disagreed with and overpowered her music. She could not hear that sound now, but the thunder was there: a far-off grumbling so ubiquitous that it went unnoticed by the Theians. But the moths and butterflies could not be held down by such grim thoughts for long. Soon they were flittering about, playing that game with the hoops and engaging with the actual butterflies that filled the room and mooched off of the fruits and juices. Kate wondered if each of these big rooms was a complete biome. She astonished them by summoning chopsticks from her medallion to eat the sliced and dried fruit and nuts. It was the eating-with-chopsticks that amazed them rather than the fact that Kate could pull the chopsticks right out of the air. The Theians marveled at these utensils and examined their own opposable tarsi in perplexity until Kate was rolling on the floor with laughter. They asked her about her home, and her guitar, and Navi, and her music. She played for them, and it was a large-scale enactment of what happened when she played for her butterflies back home at the Carter Estate. They danced! They spun through the air to the rich thrumming of her bass. Some of them joined in on their own strange instruments. She saw no wind instruments, but several had string or percussion to add to Kate¡¯s bass. Mormo vanished at the beginning and returned shortly later with something like a four-handed concertina! He improvised the melody, and he was good, though it was a strange melody indeed, and it strained against the tuning of Kate¡¯s bass. Was she off, or was he? Probably she, Kate decided. Who knew what the Theian tuning system was like? Another question for the notebook! She led them in a spirited roundelay. They played and danced and laughed, and Kate felt comfortable. This was not home. A million small oddities and inconveniences reminded her of that. But it was almost home, yet strange enough to be exciting. An adventure ! When they had all finished, Kate invited them to her palace. They hesitated to go to the palace until Kate reminded them it was her palace, and she was inviting them. So they went, but Kate could not fly. The Theians carried her between several of them in a blanket, as they had the night before. This was a little fun, a little scary, and more than a little undignified, so Kate resolved to somehow remedy this problem in the future. They flew low under the dark, bruised sky. Distant thunder rumbled and Technicolor lightning flickered on the far horizons. And the wind! It clearly made tough work for her companions. They skimmed low over the rippling grasses and took advantage of the currents whenever they shifted favorably. They were expert flyers! The swarm alighted atop one of the shortest windmills that made up the spires of her palace, the blue windmill with butterfly-wing arms. Kate led them in a parade down into the main hall. From there, Kate and her few dozen new friends began an exploratory venture throughout her palace. Curiosity overcame any hesitancy the Theians had about poking through the home of the Child of Skies. They flew about the exterior of the palace, marveling at the windmills and the shreds of sky that streamed like ribbons into the gloom. They inspected the hexagon at the top and wondered what other Children there were. They flew in synchronicity in the many-rainbowed Great Hall. They found a door labeled ¡°Skywater¡± on a nearby cliff. Kaitlyn Carter had more fun than she remembered having in quite some time. At first she had been nervous, even intimidated, around the Theians. They were, after all, so very beautiful, unlike herself. But she had her lab coat, painted in bright colors like their wings, and the Theians loved it. And she had her guitar, and the Theians loved that too. She had Navi, and the Theians loved her. But most of all, it seemed like the Theians loved her, Kaitlyn Carter, the same way that Liz did. And so, with these wondrous people who looked like tall butterflies and moths, Kate didn¡¯t feel lonely at all. In fact, she felt happy. Mormo and Polyom stayed by her side, the moth and the butterfly. They stuck together, and they argued a lot, but in a calm and comfortable way. Kate wondered if they were married, or the Theian equivalent. Did they have little pupae somewhere? That would be so cute! Again, questions of genotypes and phenotypes arose in her mind, but she was still too nervous to ask about it. She found a special room in a tall pink tower. It took up the whole width of the tower, and it was full of models of flying machines. They hung from the ceiling, lay half-formed on workbenches, stood represented in sketches on graph paper on corkboard screens. Someone, clearly, had been fascinated with flying. Who? The next room up contained a single full-sized ornithopter, along with a garage-like door that opened to the outside. The machine could carry a single person, provided they were lying down on it, face-forward. It had pedals and levers and switches for controls. It looked unsafe, though finely crafted. It was made of polished wood, brass fixings, steel joints and hinges. The wings were a kind of clear, flexible plastic. Of course, they had been shaped into something like butterfly wings. They could use some painting, though. ¡°I am n-no-n-not,¡± she told Polyom, ¡°g-getting in that.¡± Polyom nodded in visible confusion. Neither Polyom nor Kate knew that Kate would indeed be getting in that, and more, that very same day. A match between the fear and the curiosity of Kaitlyn Carter is really no match at all. The discovery of the ornithopter prompted Kate to investigate the other towers. She discovered that the windmill mechanisms at the top of each provided electrical power to the castle, and in one case, running water. The water got pulled up by a bucket system from somewhere far below and dumped into a cistern that drained all through the rest of the palace, including that one part on the ground floor where it flowed like a stream through a channel in the glittering marble stones. In the tall central tower, just beneath the hexagonal platform with a single free-standing door, she found the snowglobes. There were seven of them: six arranged in a hexagon exactly beneath their corresponding chunk of the platform above, and a larger one in the middle. The snowglobes rested in custom-made depressions on polished stone pedestals. Each of the outer globes was like a softball in size, but the middle one was larger. The pedestals were labeled. In order, clockwise starting with hers: Theia, Cloud Moon Orpheus, Metal Moon Hyperion, Color Moon Sisyphus, Garden Moon Pyrrhus, Hollow Moon Icarus, Void Moon And finally, there in the middle: Ardia. Kate picked up each and scrutinized them. The snowglobe for Theia showed nothing beneath the glass but dark grey stormclouds. When she looked closely through a mist-formed magnifying glass, she saw tiny sparks of colors glinting in the clouds. The lightning. Orpheus was a spiky thing like a crazy bunch of purplish-black crystals fused with a mangled sea urchin. It hovered in the middle of its glass sphere. Again with the magnifying glass, Kate thought she saw the tiny little spikes drifting slowly. Hyperion was all white and grey on one side, and deepest black on the other. The line where the two met was blurry and moved strangely, though she couldn¡¯t make out exactly what was going on there even with the magnifying glass. The boundary between night and day writhed in a way that gave her the shivers. Sisyphus was also all white, but it was the white of sparkling ice rather than blank paper. This moon had a huge mountain on one side of it, so big it distorted the shape of the whole moon! You couldn¡¯t really call that one a sphere. Pyrrhus was like a galaxy of tiny lights. With her magnifying glass, Kate could make out some of them individually. A city! The whole moon a city, interrupted only by occasional bodies of dark water. This snowglobe felt strangely light. Icarus was even lighter than Pyrrhus. In fact, it weighed nothing at all, except for the glass enclosing it, because nothing was inside! It was just darkness. Not the darkness of an object that is black, but the darkness of nothingness. So it was true! Isaac didn¡¯t even have a moon at all. ¡°Void Moon.¡± Was he not supposed to? She handled Ardia carefully with both hands, feeling its weight. Much bigger than the moons! It actually looked like Earth. Blue oceans separated green and brown continents, with white ice at one end. It had some oddities, including: tiny patches of black, like ink flicked onto the planet; a purple area that looked strangely fuzzy under her magnifying glass; a vibrant patch of auroras at one pole in spiral formation around some center; oddly angular lakes. She left the globes and ascended to the snowflake platform. She checked her door. It still opened only onto the windy sky beyond. Kate sat in the middle of the platform, joined by Mormo and Polyom, who reverently laid themselves down on the crystalline snowflake. Kate had observed this behavior; Theians did not sit. Instead, they rested laterally on all six limbs like regular Lepidoptera. Mormo was less than three feet high in this position with his moth wings parallel to the floor, but Polyom¡¯s pretty blue and pink-swirled wings were as tall as she normally was when standing upright. They didn¡¯t speak, though Mormo¡¯s fronds and Polyom¡¯s antennae twitched in the wind, and Polyom flexed her wings carefully. Navi came dancing around them, and soon other Theians joined them. Kate had learned some of their names already. It was not difficult when they were all so unique in appearance. None of them resembled any actual butterflies or moths that Kate knew of, with the exception of one big moth who was unmistakably a hyalophora cecropia. She knew this one¡¯s name; it was Saturn. He didn¡¯t talk much. Flitch was a small butterfly with a high fluting voice who talked all the time, and she had startling fluorescent wings of orange and green. She was always by the side of the composed Thlytri like an excitable child beside an older and wiser sibling. Thlytri¡¯s wings were solid sky-blue. Thlytri in turn clung to a large moth, the biggest individual present, whose name was difficult to pronounce but sounded like ¡°Shlushluth.¡± Shlushluth was pure summer-cloud white, his fuzzy body peppered with small spots of deep purple in fascinating constellations, and he had explored Kate¡¯s palace more curiously than any, trailing Thlytri and Flitch behind him. Were Thlytri and Shlushluth lovers? These Theians and more, two dozen more, gathered bit-by-bit at the height of her palace to watch the storm with her. And every one was marvelous. Kate was sure it was a mistake of the sort that Sherlock Holmes would not abide to assume that these creatures had human-like personalities and relationships. Maybe she was misreading everything. She knew nothing of them or their culture. But it certainly seemed to her that these Theians spoke and acted and treated each other just like a big group of assorted humans would. Not that she, Kate, had much experience with big groups of humans, or really any humans except her five friends and Aunt Becky, who surely didn¡¯t count. Either way, she was happy there. With them, in the wind and storm, watching the flickering firework-lightning in the far distance, she felt accepted , automatically and wordlessly. ¡°Sky Child,¡± said Mormo when most of the Theians had assembled. He spoke loudly to be heard over the wind. ¡°Tell us of the others.¡± ¡°Y-you can c-call me Kate,¡± she said. ¡°Do y-you¨Cdo you mean my f-friends?¡± Mormo nodded from his prone-like position. His feathery antennae twitched against the wind, and the others all stirred. (Kate noticed that Thlytri stirred a bit closer to the big white moth until they were touching. Her wings even caressed him lightly now when she flexed them! How cute!) ¡°The Time Child,¡± said Mormo, his soft voice nearly lost in a sudden howl of wind that whipped Kate¡¯s hair across her face. ¡°The Child of Lights. The others.¡± Kate smiled. They were pretty much children, though probably most of her friends wouldn¡¯t think like that. So she told them: about brave Liz, and her many talents and her loyal and cuddly cat. About cool Eric, calm and brave, and about how much he loved his sister. About creative Isaac and his love of stories and music and games. About special Jimothy, the painter, innocent and pure and powerful. And about dangerous Heidi¨Cdangerous only to those who would hurt her friends! Kate pointed out each triangular section on the platform as she went through them. The Theians murmured amongst themselves while she spoke. They seemed very patient with her stutter. Maybe they didn¡¯t know that it was abnormal. Then they asked about her and where she had come from, and she told them about her crazy Aunt Becky and her big lonely house, and her music and butterflies and snowglobes and chess and Whiskey and her lab and all the other things she could think of. Then Kate returned their curiosity. Mormo spoke the most. He was the leader, or at least no one ever disagreed with him, or interrupted him. The Theians lived simple lives. They spent most of their time growing and collecting food, or caring for their larvae and pupae. They had technology but seldom used it, nor was contact with Ardia or the other moons common. The Theians lived in scattered small communities devoid of any centralized government. Yet they all faced the same problem: the eternal storm, the storm worms therein, and the consequent inability of their young to metamorphose. Too much wind, too much dark, too much thunder. Butterflies are not fit for flying about in storms. Mormo and Polyom were ¡°under the same sky,¡± (married?!) and together ran the overcrowded nursery. They had to throw out dead chrysalises regularly, which horrified Kate but didn¡¯t appear to disturb them when they spoke of it. Kate wanted to know more. She asked them, ¡°B-b-but what do y-y-do you want?¡± ¡°Our hopes?¡± said Mormo. ¡°Our dreams?¡± said Polyom. Kate nodded furiously. You could tell all about someone from what they really wanted. Jim had told her that, and it was true! Jim wanted everyone to be safe and happy and kind. Eric wanted to be a hero. Heidi wanted friends, and then she wanted to protect those friends. Isaac wanted to be close to God or something. Liz wanted something beautiful and complicated that Kate didn¡¯t understand, and Kate wasn¡¯t sure what she wanted herself. ¡°We want,¡± said Polyom after a moment, ¡°children.¡± ¡°Family,¡± agreed Mormo. One of his feathery antennae twitched toward Polyom, and for a moment her own touched his. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°Peace,¡± offered a lavender-dusted moth. ¡°To be free of fear,¡± said Shlushluth. There was a long moment of silence, and then Flitch said, ¡°sunlight.¡± Everyone stirred in agreement. ¡°The sun,¡± others said. ¡°The stars. The sky. Rainbows.¡± This was the answer, the one which encapsulated everything else. The way they said it made it sound like such a thing included family, peace, children. ¡°The sky,¡± said Mormo. ¡°We would see it again.¡± And they told her about Absolem. Polyom whispered the name fearfully, yet even so the sky above heard it and responded with a crashing thunder that shook the snowflake-platform. One moth was so startled that he flashed his wings reflexively, revealing fierce crimson eye-spots that glared up at the clouds. The Theians all huddled together and turned their many-faceted gazes above. ¡°Surely we are safe here,¡± muttered Mormo, not sounding very sure at all. The way he said it made her want to pat him. She had been resisting the urge to pat him anyway since he was clearly very soft and fuzzy, but she still didn¡¯t know what kinds of things were appropriate. ¡°Absolem,¡± Polyom continued in a voice that cut through the wind far better than did Mormo¡¯s, ¡°is a Great One. He sleeps.¡± He sleeps, echoed some of the crowd. Yes, he sleeps. ¡°His chrysalis is like diamond,¡± offered a nearby butterfly with blue-edged wings of black velvet whose name Kate did not know. ¡°It shines like light on water,¡± said a swallowtail with spiral patterns. ¡°Though he sleeps, yet he speaks,¡± said an older moth. ¡°He waits.¡± ¡°He¡¯s beautiful!¡± ¡°Frightening.¡± ¡°Huge!¡± They continued while Kate listened intently. So! A giant crystal cocoon? Most of the Theians present seem to have made a pilgrimage to this Absolem, and a few claimed to have heard him speak even in his hibernation. Absolem was, of course, the name of the hookah-smoking caterpillar from Carroll¡¯s Alice in Wonderland. Kate had recognized the name at once. That Absolem had been quite unhelpful to the lost and curious heroine. But perhaps this one would be different. Kate realized that she had already made up her mind. She would go and see this Absolem herself, and without delay! Surely a creature such as that could get her all sorted out. A soft leg gently touched hers. It was Mormo¡¯s. ¡°Would you go, Sky Child?¡± he asked. ¡°See Absolem. Perhaps, speak with him. He may offer wisdom, even to such as you.¡± The others who heard whispered their assent. Distant thunder growled louder. Kaitlyn Carter jumped up with such sudden haste that she would have fallen over were it not for a fortuitous gust of wind that nudged her upright. ¡°Y-ye-y-I¡¯ll do it!¡± she declared. ¡°L-let¡¯s go!¡± Navi at once guided her down a walkway and over to the winged flying machine. In the end, and only after much weighing of options and encouragement from the Theians, she decided to give it a try. It was not, after all, like flying in an airplane. It was single-person. She would have full control, and if she crashed, it would be her fault. This comforted her, although she knew that she was much more likely to crash in this thing than in an airplane flown by certified pilots. She inspected it thoroughly. The driving airfoils were, of course, oscillating rather than rotary. It appeared to possess no internal source of power at all. Was it a glider? Was the wind strong enough for that? It was very light, despite its size. The whole thing was as long as she was and each of the four wings was broader still, yet she could easily pick it up by herself. Theians crowded around while she investigated the flying device. Some of them pulled the latch and opened the garage-door to the outside, revealing their frightful elevation. It opened onto a long drop down into the bottomless canyon adjacent to the palace. Some butterflies compared their own wings to the dull, colorless wings of the machine. Experimentally, Kate put on the safety visor. It fit comfortably over her glasses and still allowed a wide range of vision. Experimentally, she laid down in the machine. She fit inside it as though it had been made for her, which made her a little uncomfortable when she considered its limited provision of space in the chest area. Her feet dangled off the back end, her head rested in a forward-facing position, and her arms were free to reach down and seize the controls. She played with the controls for a moment and figured out how they shifted the balance and altered the angle of the wings on either side. It seemed simple enough. Basic aerodynamics! She gathered a few hair clips from her lab coat¡¯s pockets and reached up to clip her hair back so it would stay out of her face. In doing so, she snagged a lever with her arm. This made her grunt in pain, and it also audibly unlatched something, somewhere. She didn¡¯t pay this much heed until the entire flying machine began sliding forward on its track toward the open door and the limitless stormy sky beyond. Kate yelped in alarm. ¡°N-n-n-no, wait!¡± But it did not wait. One Theian made a feeble attempt to stop the thing from sliding, but Kate had already seen that the Theians were not very strong. Most of the surrounding crowd seemed to believe she was launching on purpose! They cheered, and their cheering was joined by Kate¡¯s shriek of terror as the flying machine reached the opening and just slid right out. Her own scream rang loudly off of the visor she wore, but she paid it no mind. The world turned in front of her, tilting down and down, until Kate stared at the unseen depths of the canyon alongside the palace. She felt dizzy, sick, cold, and terribly hot all at once. Two thoughts crowded together in her mind, shouting at each other: What the hell was I thinking! Getting in this machine was a bad idea, such a bad idea; why am I so stupid? And I think it is falling. My thing is falling, I¡¯m going to be falling a lot. Shit! For a single, horrible second, Kaitlyn Carter was paralyzed. She knew, in some outside-herself way, that she needed to think, she needed to do something, but she could manage neither. A white butterfly flashed into view as she fell. It disappeared as Kate and the flying machine fell past into the darkness of the canyon. But a new thought came into her mind, as if passed like a baton from that tiny white swallowtail (ornithoptera!). The thought was: what would Rebecca Carter do? The answer, of course, was that she would laugh scornfully at the threat of imminent demise, and she would kick back a double-shot of bourbon, and she would fly the damn thing even if she didn¡¯t know how. Kate, her fists in a white-knuckled death grip around the control handles, heaved back on them. The wings of the machine flexed, caught the air. The craft began to level out in unsteady jerks. But Kate saw with dread, as she gasped for air in-between screams, that it was too late. She had already descended into the canyon, and although no longer in a nosedive, she now bore directly for the far canyon wall. That sheer cliff, with its tastefully striated layers of red, grey, and yellow, dominated her field of view. If only she could go up¨Cup! But she instinctively knew that her little craft did not have the capacity for such a rapid climb. There was no space, no time. Yet as soon as she thought this, just as she began to switch from a desperate desire to ascend into a grim preparation for impact, the flying machine shuddered as a powerful updraft caught it. The wings of the machine jerked, and this new force bore Kate aloft at such speed that she screamed again and pulled the control sticks back toward her reflexively. This resulted in a backflip as the unexpected current of air sweeping up the cliff face shot her into the windy skies. What would Aunt Becky do!? Kate thought desperately as she struggled to gain some sort of control during the wild loop-the-loop, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. One of Aunt Becky¡¯s stories was about her stealing a biplane from poachers, and this back when she had never flown anything before. According to Aunt Becky, she had learned ¡°on the fly.¡± According to Aunt Becky, she had done this mainly through instinct, since she was drugged up on pain medication at the time. She said she didn¡¯t remember about half of the flight she had made to a local city. She had landed on a highway, mistaking it for a runway, and had then tried to taxi into a gas station because the biplane was low on fuel. Kate thought it might have been more than just morphine, assuming the story was true at all. But that didn¡¯t matter! Instinct! She tried hard to fly on instinct. But nothing happened. She drew a blank. What did ¡°instinct¡± even mean, anyway? Did she just not have it? Change of plans! Logic. Logic she had, and with this she would fly! Kate opened her eyes and applied herself fully to the problem of stabilizing her aircraft. She was starting ¡°in challenge mode¡± as Isaac would say, thanks to the crazy wind, but she knew she could do it! She remembered the ways in which small adjustments of the handles she gripped had altered the angles of the wings and shifted the balance of the aircraft. She thought about the surface area and shape of the four butterfly-like wings on her craft. She recalled all that she had studied and personally observed with regards to how real butterflies managed to stay aloft. She considered the proportional differences between real butterflies, and Theians, and her aircraft. She factored in the reliance of her craft upon wind currents, and the oscillating wings¡¯ remarkable adaptability to the changing currents. She factored balance, and gravity, and momentum. Thrust, lift, drag, the conservational laws of fluid dynamics, and the meaning behind all the equations that flashed through her mind from the studies and books she had read on flight subsequent to her father¡¯s disappearance. It fell into place, and as things often were with Kaitlyn Carter, she didn¡¯t understand exactly how or why. It was like solving a differential equation. It all came together so suddenly, and so completely, that it seemed like she had always known the answer and had simply remembered. In an instant, it became obvious. She leveled out the flying machine with a careful application of the controls; the horizons turned right-way-up. She paused for a moment, suspended, felt the upward pressure of the air buoying her up into the stormy sky counteracted by the equal pull of gravity. Then she angled down and forward. Not flying; falling with style! The aircraft rocked and teetered with changes in the wind currents, but she was quick to adjust, to stay upright. She saw the canyon below, the distant green hills, the many-colored arms of her rooftop windmills churning the darkness into tiny sparks of pure sky . Away, far away, lightning glinted like sparkling ruby, sapphire, amethyst, emerald, topaz. She yelped as she dropped a few feet and countered by diving a bit to the side so that her wings could catch another updraft that swept up nearby. Part of her wondered how she had known that another updraft was coming just then, but most of her was distracted by the Theians. They swooped down from the heights of her palace, and for a moment they looked more like diving falcons than moths and butterflies. Their wings snapped open, caught them like tiny parachutes, and with a few bright flickers hoisted them into the air. Kate watched in awe as a dozen, two dozen, began to dance in a wide arc around her and the machine she struggled incessantly to keep adrift in the currents. She dropped again and understood that momentum was necessary to maintain altitude. Basic aerodynamics, after all! But it was easy to forget when basking in the powerful updrafts from the canyon. Mormo and Polyom came close, together with a few others. Mormo¡¯s wing¡¯s flashed like green lightning with every stroke. Polyom¡¯s pale wings, laced with swirls of blue and pink, looked like a lovely accident with watercolors. They might have been trying to speak to her, but Kate couldn¡¯t hear them. She flexed her feet and realized that she had lost a sandal. Also, she was feeling a bit sick, probably from all the rocking and unpredictable movement. And she was getting hungry already! But they led her away, off into the storm. To Absolem! They flew low back in the direction from which they had come, then angled off along a tall granite cliff, over a scattering of wrinkled blue lakes among fields of yellow-green grains, above a forest of thin, thrashing trees that bowed down to the distant hills. The wind did not stop; it never stopped. In fact, she was fairly sure that the Theians had led her into a current, a river of air that swept them away. This enabled her to fly, but it also meant that she had to battle constantly against its capricious whims. She had difficulty controlling her machine at the start. Twice she nearly crashed, once into the ground and once into a granite cliff. Each time, a shift in the winds aided her at the last second. It was enough to make her wonder whether Navi was responsible. Regardless, she did not crash. She improved. She learned, and she could learn just about anything! In fact, she was so busy learning that for a while she forgot to be afraid of flying. And when she remembered that she was supposed to be afraid¡­nothing happened. It made her smile, then laugh, then execute a barrel roll that made her squeal in exhilaration. Her moon was beautiful! It would be more beautiful in the sunlight, she thought, but even so. The colors! And the shape of the land, which was almost-but-not-quite realistic. She swooped and glided with ease over fantastic hills, gullies and glades, fjords with colored cliffs, forests that were no doubt enchanted and deep cold lakes with lights glinting at the bottoms of them. But most amazing of all were the Theians that flew in a chaotic spread around her. They didn¡¯t fly straight, and seemed content to take their time. They flitted about, going from one to another, sometimes chasing each other around. Kate grinned when she saw the white moth pursuing Thlytri in an erratic path through the air. Yet still they traveled swiftly within the air current. For a time, the experience of flight filled Kaitlyn so completely that other concerns faded away. The thrill of riding the air, the stomach-dropping sensation of a swooping descent, the sense of control balanced against chaos, of overcoming the chaos¡­it was amazing. She laughed and laughed, her voice sore from her initial screaming. The Theians laughed with her. Or she thought they did, but their laughter sounded like the warbling cries of strange birds, low and throaty for the men and fluting like pipes for the women. They flew through a field of windmills, many windmills of all shapes and sizes that stalked in a scattered arrangement over meadows of ruffled yellow grass. The arms of these windmills were mostly plain canvas or plastic, not cut and colored into fantastic shapes like her palace. They also did not process the wind into brilliant ribbons of condensed sky. However, they were wandering around on huge mechanical legs, which was certainly not something the windmills at her palace did. Kate and the Theians dodged around the churning arms, and even took a moment to playfully circle one of the roving windmills, which proved to Kate that she was becoming pretty okay at flying the device. It had been designed for her, and it was comfortable, but at length she felt the need to land and get out of it. For one thing, she needed to use the bathroom. For another, it put a kink in her neck to keep looking forward all the time. And she was hungry. But they were close. She knew it; she could feel it. It was in the sky. It was in the storms. The thunderheads grew fiercer; the day grew darker. Thunder and lightning, which had always been distant wherever they flew, grew nearer. The Theians dropped low to the ground, and Kate imitated them. Her companions stopped laughing, stopped speaking. The sound of thunder began to overcome even the sound of wind. And there was something else, something more than thunder. It chilled Kate, freezing away all the fun and joy she had gained from the flight. It made her feel small; it made her wish she were only the size of an actual butterfly, that she might escape the notice of whatever was up there in the muttering thunderheads. The Theians grouped closely together as they fluttered low against the treetop canopy of a dense jungle, a sea of a million shades of green that undulated up and down in the wind. A jungle, it seemed, but of something flimsier than trees. The Theians then dove into an almost-unseen crack in the green, a chasm that cut through the jungle. They swept down into the darkness, thankful to be out of the direct sight of the uncaring storms above. They kept descending, down and down into the earth. It became dark, but only for a moment. They angled downward and there was still wind here, whistling mournfully through what she took to be a deep, narrow space. They descended into a starry mass of light. Veins of glittering crystals lined the blackness on either side of her, shimmering off the wings of the silent Theians around her. They went down, down, down. How far? Kate could not tell. Miles? That seemed ridiculous. Yet the sounds of the storm on the surface died away, and the air became thick. They approached a platform of flat crystal. It glimmered with inner light and sparkled with hidden rainbows in its depths. An archway led beyond into a bright place, so bright that Kate could discern nothing more about it while her eyes adjusted to the darkness. The light from the arch illuminated only a small part of the dark abyss around them, rocky and cold. Even the wind was less here. The Theians landed gracefully on the glittering crystal, tired after such a flight. Kate¡¯s landing was more of a controlled crash. She skidded across the platform and came forcefully to rest against the far wall with the bright arch. She crawled from the flying machine, and only then realized how stiff and sore it had made her. Her arms ached from controlling the machine, she had a kink in her neck, she was still missing a sandal, and now she really needed to go to the bathroom. ¡°We have arrived,¡± Polyom said, a bit unnecessarily, as she approached Kate. Other Theians came with her to make sure the rough landing had not hurt her. ¡°You flew well,¡± Polyom added, which Kate thought was probably an exaggeration. She made her most immediate need known to Polyom, and soon it was taken care of in a nearby side-hallway. She rediscovered the fact that she could create anything she could think of with the medallion, and appreciated the fact that everything was fully biodegradable in the sense that it dissolved into mist when she stopped thinking about it. She found on her way back to the Theians that someone had texted her during her flight. It was Heidi! HS: Hey Kate. HS: Just wanted to see how you were doing. HS: Is your moon dangerous? HS: Mine is. HS: I¡¯m not bragging or anything. HS: I was just worried. HS: Sorry. HS: I¡¯ll stop bothering you now. Kate felt a strange pain when she read this. Oh, Heidi! What kind of awful place was her moon, anyway? Kate thought back to the snowglobe of Orpheus, the Metal Moon. It had looked scary and weird. She would have a long chat with Heidi, after talking to Absolem. She rejoined the Theians, who perched reverently in clustered groups on the luminous crystal floor, their usual restlessness and chatter absent. They were sharing a drink that some of the Theians had brought with them. Kate wished she had thought of that. She hoped it was a hot drink, because the wind down here was cold, and she was shivering as well as thirsty. Her breath would probably have misted into the air had it any time to do so before being swept away by the wind. She located Thlytri with the sky-blue wings and saw that she was huddled very close to Shlushluth-or-whatever-his-name-was. That made her smile, but it also made her a little sad. She¡¯d never had anyone to huddle close to like that. Not really. Not a person, anyway. Certainly not Aunt Becky! Mormo was suddenly beside her. He moved so quietly that he startled her. ¡°You are cold,¡± he told her. ¡°Here.¡± He offered a leathery pouch like a waterskin. Kate took it. It was warm, and liquid sloshed within. She had seen the Theians extracting its contents with their proboscises. For herself she materialized a tin cup and poured some in. The liquid was dark and hot; it steamed and warmed her hands. She hesitated only for a moment before taking a big swallow of it. It was like hot chocolate, but thicker and richer, and the chocolate flavor was mixed with something like honey. It tasted amazing, and it flooded her with new life and energy. Undoubtedly it contained so much sugar, though she supposed the Theians needed that for their flying. Steam from the drink fogged her glasses for a moment. ¡°Mormo,¡± she said, ¡°is it ok-k-okay if I h-hu-h-hug you?¡± She had seen the Theians touch each other, but nothing like an actual hug. She supposed it was because their anatomy made it difficult. And sure enough, she had to explain to a puzzled Mormo what a hug was, while other curious Theians clustered around to listen. They blocked the wind, for which Kate was grateful. ¡°M-my p-people hug each other t-t-to show affection,¡± she told them, miming the action in the air. She dropped the mug; it was mist when it hit the ground. Mormo wanted to try, so he and Kate hugged each other. It was awkward; hugging a Theian was nothing like hugging a person. But Mormo was surprisingly strong, and she hugged him tight for a moment. He wasn¡¯t as fluffy as she¡¯d thought, but she felt better. Her hands, when she pulled them back, were covered in the fine scaly dust of Mormo¡¯s wings. The dust on her left hand was bright green. She felt a sudden absurd urge to taste it, but that would probably be weird. ¡°Are you comforted, Sky Child?¡± Mormo asked. Kate nodded, embarrassed all of a sudden. She looked past the Theians toward the arch. Surely there was no wind in there, or less. ¡°L-let¡¯s go!¡± she said. She led the way, wishing she had brought her guitar. Some music would be good here. If she were to play music here, would rainbows dance in the crystals? Would the lights move and change? She thought they would. A peculiar ringing sounded through the air, through her bones, into a sharp but not painful sensation behind her eyes. It chimed slowly as she entered, perhaps playing a song too slow for her to understand. The brightness through the arch resolved into a high-ceilinged crystalline galleria, like a cathedral or perhaps a palace like her own. The light came from everywhere. It shifted as though living rainbows were trapped in glass cages. It was like walking through a three-dimensional kaleidoscope. It was cold but windless. The chiming grew louder, the colors swirled, and Kate lost her sense of scale, of place. She and her beautiful friends walked through a maelstrom, a blizzard of light. And then it stopped. All was still, and all was quiet. The cessation shocked Kate more than anything yet. She gasped involuntarily, and her gasp echoed in a vast chamber. Something was before her, hung from a high ceiling, strung up to the ceiling and walls by rigid crystalline webbing. It was a chrysalis, one the size of a grain bin. Only within the chrysalis now did the light move. It pulsed slowly, like a heartbeat; the light flexed and turned, refracted out through the many-faceted exterior of the chrysalis. ¡°Absolem,¡± whispered Kate, and her voice carried unnaturally in the silence. Child, came the reply. It rung in her mind. Its voice was like a great multitude of voices singing in manifold harmony, so far away as to be barely audible. She felt herself straining mentally to hear it, just as she would focus on her sense of hearing to detect a very faint noise. Kate didn¡¯t know whether to respond. Everyone else remained still and silent, so she did too. ¡­storm¡­ whispered the voice, grand and torpid, like nearly-imagined church bells tolling in a distant town, reaching her through miles of twilight fog. ¡°H-he-h-hel-h-g-greetings,¡± said Kate. Light churned within the chrysalis. Sleep¡­ ¡°Y-yo-you¡¯re asleep?¡± ¡­change¡­ Kate waited. Was it telling her to change? Change what? ¡­become¡­ ¡°Oh!¡± she said. ¡°y-you¡¯re going to me-metam-m-morphose! I think you¡¯ll be the m-most beautiful bu-b-butterfly!¡± Or moth, possibly, in which case she was looking at a cocoon, not a chrysalis, though it was impossible to know which. ¡­dream¡­ On second thought, the idea of what this creature might look like as a fully-grown butterfly was a bit frightening. Also, if it was trying to tell her something important, she was not getting it. ¡°I d-don¡¯t understand!¡± she told it. It rumbled faintly, like a murmur of distant thunder. Kate had a vision, breathtakingly beautiful, of a towering iridescent thunderhead, majestic, rolling through distant skies. But that was all. Absolem dreamed again, leaving Kate and the Theians small and shivering on the hard crystal floor. Chapter 24 Chapter 24 Heidi Heidi leaned back against the flat of a towering lorn shard, panting and dripping with sweat. She would have killed for a steady sea breeze, but it seemed the Metal Moon didn¡¯t go much for wind. Oh, the air got pushed around a bit by the tectonic movements of the truly massive shards, but that felt more like the sighing of a vast and ominous beast, lukewarm and stagnant. And loud, with the unceasing cacophony of chimes as the lorn crashed into itself. She had got used to the smell, like metal burnt when soldering, but even now it was hard to tune out the noise. Someone had told her about a story that her moon might one day sound beautiful, but that didn¡¯t seem likely. She checked the spacious pockets of her canvas coat for spare ammo clips. Still there, of course. She knew they were. Just as she knew, although she could not see him, that Bahamut was nearby. He was entirely invisible in the deep shadows around her, but a scaly hand touched lightly at her ankle as though he had sensed her thoughts and wanted to reassure her of his presence. She stood up, her breath mostly recovered. The trembling hand she used to wipe sweat from her face felt sticky. She experienced a brief, crazy impulse to taste the stickiness. On her island, this would be a natural and safe means of identifying something sticky. But here it was probably blood. She briefly clicked on the light on the shoulder of her jacket. Yep, blood. But blue. Not hers. Nor Bahamut¡¯s, whose blood was indistinguishable from ink. Hot ink. A rue cried out nearby. She shivered. She shivered every time; she couldn¡¯t help it. She always thought she¡¯d gotten used to it and was always wrong. A cold claw touched her ankle again. How strange that that was a comfort already. She¡¯d only known Bahamut, what, two days? It felt like a week or more. How long did it take to be comforted by the mere touch of a friend? Ready to move again, she strode down an angular corridor made by branching shards. A pale violet glow illuminated the space above; black stripes of shadow concealed her intermittently as she walked. She gripped the weapon she had received as a gift, thumbing the safety on and off in a steady rhythm. She wished Alan were here. Not any of her new friends; she didn¡¯t want any of them to be in this place. But she wanted Alan Sheppard. She wanted someone to talk to, someone human who knew her and could understand her. She had been an ungrateful fool. Alan had protected her, loved her, provided for her, taught her, listened to her, played chess with her, tried to read the same books as her¡­ She wiped a tear away, then swore softly as some of the sticky blue blood got into her eye. It burned, catalyzing tears of a less emotional nature. This was good; she didn¡¯t want to get distracted by homesickness. But she¡¯d definitely have some things to say to Alan when next she saw him. If she saw him. She had seen him die in some kind of vision in the Museum, but now she thought that if either of them was going to die in the immediate future, it would almost certainly be her. She found that this did not particularly alarm her. If any of the six of them had to be on this Metal Moon, it definitely needed to be her. She had a job here, a purpose. This was a new sensation, or at least one she had never felt so strongly, and every time she considered the fact that she had apparently been entrusted with a vital duty, she experienced a powerful and alarming surge of resolve. Everything else faded back, all the doubts and anxieties. The fear remained, it always remained, but it ceased mattering. She had only vague notions of all of this. The thoughts swirled about in her head, mixing into a null grey murk. She had never been good at abstract thinking. She couldn¡¯t keep her thoughts separate when they had no physical objects to anchor to, and when she had too many thoughts they all canceled out, leaving a blank void of stupidity. Heidi imagined Kaitlyn¡¯s mind as a big white room, bright and clean, where thoughts flitted about like glowing butterflies, all of them precise and strong and sure. Whereas Heidi¡¯s own mind was the water that remained in a cup after using it to rinse off a lot of paintbrushes. She just needed time to slow down and think about everything. But she had no time. The rue dropped on her silently from somewhere above. She hadn¡¯t seen it because of the way the gravitational fields angled its trajectory. The rue were masters of such predictive locomotion. In the flurry of action which followed, she had no thoughts, but afterward she added ¡°watch above and behind¡± to her rapidly expanding mental list of lessons she had learned the hard way and did not intend to have to learn again. She focused on defense; minimizing injuries to herself was her top priority in this engagement¨Canother hard-learned lesson. This mostly meant flinging herself about with improvised gravitational fields while being careful not to fling herself into a patch of razor-sharp spikes. (One of the first lessons, that one.) She was still not very good at this, but she was just barely good enough to mostly avoid getting hit, and to occasionally stabilize and take a shot at the black shape of the rue with the bizarre rifle-like firearm that Balazar had given to her. This weapon fired what looked like glowing violet chunks of the lorn spikes, which shattered upon impact and apparently wounded the rue. She at last landed a hit. The violet crystal shattered in a puff of sparking light. The rue cried out, its awful sound somehow bearing meaning with it: ¡­why?... Her opponent shifted, changed. A flurry of long spidery legs shuttered across its aspect. It folded into a serpentine form, and then skeletal bat-like wings extended, then the wings kept extending until they collapsed back into the dark shape, and then it all ballooned into the outline of a hulking ape-like beast. As usual, only the monster¡¯s outline was visible. But she had never seen one change this drastically, this fast, and it caught her off-guard when it leapt at her. She reached out her left hand as though commanding it to stop. A circular compass shape of golden light materialized, split apart into three spinning circles delineating a sphere, and then pointed away from her, all in a second. She put as much force as she could behind it¨Cpossibly more than five or six Gs, though she as yet had found no way of measuring this. The ape-like black shape slowed in mid-jump, then plummeted back to the spikes below. It changed again as it fell, and a single thin line shot away from the dark mass toward Heidi. Without enough time to move herself, she could only twist awkwardly, counting herself lucky that she had seen the attack coming at all in the darkness and shadows. The extending black spine tore at her bulky coat and yanked her through the air. She tried to shoot it, but the thinness of the line and her own movement made this nearly impossible. She growled and seized the black spine with her free hand. This was, in fact, the first time she had touched a rue for longer than it took to get sliced up, and it burned in her grip like freezing fire. Then Baha was there. He coiled around the thin projection, and with a heaving muscular contraction broke the blackness. It shattered like glass, lacerating Heidi¡¯s hand. Heidi decided to flee. She would meet up with the guards ahead as planned, but she¡¯d take a roundabout way. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. The compasses appeared, adjusting gravity, and she fell away up into the shadowy heights. She preferred walking, as it was less dangerous. Flying was perilous because it attracted attention, and her level of control was still sketchy. She had already once fallen directly onto a big lorn shard. It had been at an angle, breaking her momentum rather than her bones. It had jarred her so hard that she suspected she had cracked a tooth. But falling was faster. And exhilarating. It was a bit like surfing. She had to concentrate very hard to keep herself from falling too quickly, to stabilize herself, to orient herself directionally with the larger landmark shards, to watch the shifting shadows where she fell for unseen razor-sharp spikes jutting out from nearby clusters. Would she eventually get used to all this? Maybe it would suddenly click one day, like surfing. She had yet to land gracefully, and this time was no different, but she avoided landing hard enough to bruise herself. ¡°The Warden arrives,¡± someone nearby observed in a profound, guttural voice that sounded half-drowned. This would be the one whose name she could neither pronounce nor recall. It was a hulking creature like a bluish reptilian gorilla with three arms, and it had tried to kill her when Balazar had first brought her to the prison. It had had four arms when it made the attempt. ¡°The Darkworlders are near,¡± it informed her. Bahamut emerged from the shadows at Heidi¡¯s feet. The blue creature did not react to the appearance of that which had taken its arm. Heidi had noticed this about the ape-like beast: it seemed devoid of any fear, as if it had a personality forged of raw defiance. She found herself oddly inspired by its attitude. Naturally, a creature like this would be in charge of doing the impossible. She only nodded in response. It turned and lumbered away, moving like one of the shifting shadows among a dense forest of softly glowing lorn shards. They glimmered in purple and blue and red and black, but none glowed brightly enough to do more than create a vague shimmer in the air. Heidi followed the beast, aware that she moved slowly and awkwardly by comparison. She tried to remember its name. If she recalled correctly, which was not at all certain due to her exhaustion at the time, it had been more of a sound effect than a word. Something like¡­vklashkga? Chigoshk? She didn¡¯t want to make a fool of herself by getting it wrong, but this seemed unlikely to be a problem. She had said almost nothing to anyone except Balazar, who among them all was easiest to talk to, and it seemed that no one expected her to. She was ¡°the Warden,¡± after all. The Warden of Prison Orpheus. She recognized the name Orpheus, but could not recall from where. Was it a computer program? She thought about asking in the group chat, but¡­she hated being worried about, and she could tell they were all worrying about her. She never should have said anything about fighting. Distracted by these thoughts, she nearly walked into chtkasghk-or-whatever, hidden silent and still among the shadows beneath a dense tree-like growth. Several other guards had gathered as well. Had they been there already, or had they come with her, unnoticed? Heidi shook her head at her own obliviousness. She needed to be alert at all times out here. No more daydreaming. Even with Baha around, she needed to watch herself. She heard voices beyond, the voices from which she and her guards concealed themselves. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t be here,¡± said one, nervous. Heidi chanced a look over a ledge made of a deep blue shard, its edge a sharp angle. A black vessel parked on the lorn, some windows illuminated from within, the size of a military transport helicopter. This comparison was no coincidence; she spotted weapons mounted on the underside and a half dozen obviously militant persons milling about beneath an open loading ramp. Most of them, like her companions, were not noticeably human. Only a couple might have been, but Heidi could not be sure. They wore helmets, or possibly masks, and their bodies were covered in armor, gear, weapons, all in a remarkable variety. ¡°Don¡¯t think about it,¡± advised a hulking Darkworlder to the nervous one, speaking in a thin, slight voice that seemed mismatched with his physique. ¡°Gotta be here.¡± She hoped that the first speaker would ask why and then receive a detailed and comprehensive answer. Heidi herself was not clear on why these people were here and why she had to stop them. It had something to do with them being a threat. To her crew, to her prison, or to the moon? She didn¡¯t know, nor did she have much incentive to get personally involved, when she thought about it. But someone needed her. Someone or something had prepared a place for her, here on this moon. Someone had entrusted her with a job. And she had to do something . So, even if she didn¡¯t understand, and even if those dark armored figures betrayed her hopes and did not monologue about their purpose in this place, it didn¡¯t matter. She had a job to do. She watched them for a while, aware that she was in utter shadow and ought to be invisible to them. This would not last forever, so she kept an eye on the slow shifting of the lights and angles around her. But her surveillance proved fruitless. They didn¡¯t speak much, and when they did it was mostly to complain about the noise, or the strange gravitational tides, or the sound of a distant rue when it cried once. That noise made them all stand still, and Heidi swore she saw at least two of them shiver. She felt an inkling of kinship for them then. She realized that her guards were waiting for her orders; waiting for her to make a move, to attack. She also knew at once that she wanted to give no such order. Her duties aside, was ambushing these individuals seriously the only way? Maybe these Darkworlders could be reasoned with, or at least spoken to before any killing took place. She wanted to know more about this ¡°Dark World¡± anyway. Her own world was dark enough. Shouldn¡¯t she be killing the rue instead? So far, they seemed a much greater threat. The thought reminded her of her hand, which had been aching, alternately hot and cold, ever since she had grasped the rue. Her indecision lasted long enough for the Darkworlders to discover their presence, and then the choice was taken from her. Chapter 25 Chapter 25 Riley McFinn Riley McFinn¡¯s third private jet, the one that could leave Earth¡¯s atmosphere if necessary, came to rest on the wide back lawn of the Carter estate. The fog swirled oddly as the jet settled on the uncut green grass. A gust of wind swirled his dark nanocarbon cape as he hopped down from the hatch. His boots thudded into the lawn where he had not set foot in years. He saw with satisfaction that the fog had not entirely blanketed the estate yet. He had time. Set with tiny shards of McFinnium, his watch resisted the time-dilating effect of the Cascade. Instead of showing the time of day, it counted up from the time of the Cascade, which would be eminently more useful. It counted accurately with respect to his own perception, and most importantly, it was in perfect sync with one other watch somewhere else in the world. A detour took him to the barn, partly obscured by the gradually thickening fog. The tarp fastened over the missing part of the roof hung limp as he approached. He shook his head as he stopped to survey the wreckage of the explosion. Chunks of stone still littered the lawn. That had been too damn close. That had almost been everything he¡¯d spent years working for undone in a single moment. If Kaitlyn had died¡­well, Riley wouldn¡¯t have lived to see what tragedy followed because Rebecca Carter would have done him in. The machinery in the lab was cheap and rudimentary compared to his own. He smiled to see the crude but intuitive equations scrawled on the whiteboard, the ideas, theories, and postulations scribbled in a nearby notebook. It filled him with a warm glow, though the lab was chill and damp. She had been trying so hard to figure it all out. A bit longer, and she would have put it all together. ¡°You truly are the daughter of Nicholas Carter,¡± he said. And he wondered, not for the first time, whether it had been a mistake not to tell her everything. Maybe her friends as well. But Nick had said not to, and Riley had promised to trust him. He took a bit more time to go through Kaitlyn¡¯s supplies, the computer set to play Eric Walker¡¯s music, the gallery of stuffed animals arranged to observe the proceedings. The safe was locked. McFinn removed a small metal disc from his pocket and flipped it into the air like a coin, where it unfolded into a metallic mass of spinning discs the size of a golf ball. He pointed at the safe, muttered a word, and it buzzed to the safe. Several laps in a perfect circle around the locking mechanism were sufficient to render it useless; a circular segment of the safe fell to Riley¡¯s feet with a clang. No McFinnium within, he saw. But there was an Anchoring Disc. Dead, of course. McFinn removed the plate-like object and held it up for inspection. He remembered this one well. Nick¡¯s idea and Riley¡¯s design¨Cwords which described most of October Industry¡¯s tech. He decided to take it back to the ship and fix it up. These things could retain their spatial position against a theoretically infinite amount of force¨Ctheoretical because the physical materials of their composition succumbed to external pressure long before any known limit was reached. They could be damn useful. The real trick, he fondly recalled as he strolled out of the lab, had been ensuring that they fixed their position relative to the gravitational center of planet Earth. Feeling sentimental, Riley McFinn also stopped by the Lepidopterarium to feed the butterflies one last time. Their apparently carefree happiness gave him a strange kind of melancholy nostalgia. Their atoms too had once been within a star, and to stardust they would return. Riley remembered coming to see Nick when he had built this place with Kaitlyn, the eminent scientist being instructed by his daughter for a change. That had been soon before he died. Riley left the door of the place open when he left. Best to at least give the butterflies a chance. Something bounded through the fog from around the corner of the house. Riley readied the McFinnium-tipped cane in his hand. The crystal glowed purple-red, and the fog cleared away in a rush. It was Whiskey, Rebecca¡¯s ridiculous pet. The small marsupial bounded past Riley before coming around and circling him again. ¡°Inscrutable as ever,¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯ll be coming with me.¡± He didn¡¯t know why he suddenly made that decision, but he declined to second-guess it. His earpiece beeped. ¡°Vehicle approaching,¡± said Clara. ¡°Three kilometers. Estimated arrival time: two minutes.¡± ¡°Deploy recon drone,¡± he replied. He continued to the back door. Locked. The small flying orb made swift work of the doorknob, and he pushed through into the manor. He had come seeking two objects. Nick¡¯s globe, the hefty classical sepia-toned masterpiece that Rebecca had put to use as a commemorative pincushion, waited in the study. He rotated Antarctica to the top and pressed his hand against the white continent. He tapped the side of the globe with the crystalline tip of his cane. Antarctica flashed in a tiny grid. Scan lines moved outward in a swift circular pattern. He reset the globe to its proper orientation and with his right thumb pressed a quick sequence of countries. Nick had made this code, and Riley did not know whether the countries in question bore any significance. His headset beeped as the globe split open down irregular seams like the skin of an orange to reveal the hollow within. ¡°Show it,¡± he said. An image of a solitary loading truck winding down the long tree-lined drive of the Carter Estate superimposed itself upon his vision of the globe¡¯s interior. He didn¡¯t recognize any of the people in the truck, but he certainly recognized the grey and orange logo on the side. He considered simply blowing it up before it got here. But no. He wanted to have a look at their things. ¡°They are probably here for you,¡± he said, reaching into the globe and extracting a melon-sized ball of McFinnium crystals. The good stuff, the pure uncolored stuff, the stuff that Nick had called Arda. He added it to the cluster of crystals atop his cane. This increased the mass by a factor of five or six, yet the weight remained nearly constant. ¡°Let them come,¡± he said. The globe, designed to shield against McFinnium radiation, closed up again. Riley, at the last moment, seized a few random chess pieces from a nearby game and dropped them in. If someone else found the globe and somehow opened it, he wanted to leave them something to puzzle over. One more thing, and he thought he could grab it before his uninvited guests barged in. He turned to the southern corridor, but paused at the sight of a picture on the bookshelf there. It hadn¡¯t been there the last time he¡¯d been in his hallway, but he knew it well; he had it set as the default background image on most of his private devices. He was surprised to see it here, in full view, in a place where Rebecca lived. It showed Nicholas Carter, his daughter Kaitlyn, his step-sister Rebecca, and his brother-in-law Riley McFinn. There they were, all together, when Riley and Rebecca had been married. Before Nick had died. Before Riley had embarked upon his current project, the one which had cost him his marriage. That had been¡­what, five years ago? Not long before Nick had died. They were all smiling in the picture, young Kaitlyn at her father¡¯s side, Riley and Rebecca behind, the Carter manor in the background. Kaitlyn¡¯s birthday, Riley remembered. The horses. The guitar. Father and child, neither knowing there was more than one of each. Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Why did you wait so long?¡± Riley asked. And he wondered whether he should have explained everything to Rebecca. ¡°I¡¯ll trust you,¡± he said to Nicholas Carter, the loving father in the photograph. He said it also to Nikola Raschez, the brilliant scientist. ¡°I promised.¡± Clara told him that the car had arrived outside. ¡°Density of genesis fog?¡± ¡°Forty-five percent,¡± she told him. ¡°Eleven percent variable.¡± Form stability average, cohesiveness near minimum. That could be inconvenient, were it not for¡­ He telescoped the dark cane in his hands until it extended to approximately his height. He then seized it in both hands and smashed the melon-sized bunch of pure scintillating Arda against a nearby metal grate. The ball of crystals shattered under the strength of his blow. A piercing chime rang out as though he had slammed a perfectly calibrated bell. The stabilizing influence washed over him, pushed back the creeping creative energies of the genesis fog. It was best to break them up like that after they¡¯d been clustered for a while. More surface area. The shattered crystals swarmed about the head of the staff as he held it back up for a closer look. They flickered with light; the whole glittering mass phased as one through a variety of colors. The larger chunks of crystal drifted in the center, maintaining a core of mass while the rest orbited and swooped in swarms. Arcs flashed out like solar flares. It was like watching a shattered planet gradually reform under the influence of its own gravitational field. Well. He didn¡¯t feel like doing this anymore, but it had to be done. He swept the staff at the windowed wall of the study, conjuring an idea in his mind. The wall broke outward as though smashed through by an irresistible and rapidly moving force. Books, chessboards, fragments of wood and stone and plaster and broken glass scattered themselves over the front lawn on the other side. Some even traveled far enough to reach the driveway. Riley McFinn stepped outside. His comfortable boots crunched on the debris-strewn grass. His dark cape swirled to the side in the lingering after-wind of the force he had summoned. There, twenty yards away at the front door of the estate, five agents of October Industries stared in his direction. They appeared to be wondering whether it had been wise to come. They should have known better. Riley could make a monster out of the genesis fog. He could make a giant robot. A deadly disease. With the ball of pure McFinnium at the tip of his staff, he could make nearly anything. But that all seemed like cheating. ¡°I prefer the old ways,¡± he said. ¡°Precision targeting, Clara. Lethal. Fire at will.¡± The recon drone, camouflaged in the trees nearby, fired five shots too quiet for Riley to hear. Four of the OI agents fell upon the steps of the Carter manor. The fifth wore an October Industries Combat Field Suit. Mark III, Riley thought, though it was hard to tell at this distance. It resembled a compact backpack that extended to the man¡¯s helmet and arms, and it had produced a reactive projectile inhibitor field in response to the recon drone¡¯s bullets. The CFS mk.III extended to encompass the man¡¯s left hand in a gauntlet of machinery. The man raised that hand at Riley, a green glow building there. Focused concussive blast. Pinpoint. It could explode a boulder into gravel at a range of up to fifty meters. The impressive thing was that it could still work, though at a somewhat diminished effect, through a medium of liquids or even solid objects. That one had kept Riley up a few nights. ¡°That was meant for mining,¡± he muttered with a wave of his hand. The inhibitor field could deflect small projectiles, but not an entire recon drone. The four-kilo egg of metal struck the man in the back of the head at a hundred kilometers-per-hour, throwing off his aim. Riley didn¡¯t flinch as a tree somewhere behind him crunched apart into kindling. ¡°Toxin,¡± he said as he stepped forward. The drone erupted in a small cloud of paralytic nerve gas. Riley heard the man gasping and choking as he approached. He wouldn¡¯t be a threat for several minutes at least. The CFS would shut down, inoperable in response to the incapacitation of the man within. A safety precaution, to prevent accidental disastrous misfire. Riley found nothing of particular interest in the vehicle, though he did remove a computer. ¡°Clara,¡± he said as he returned to the gaping hole in the side of the Carter manor. ¡°Scavenger drone. The computer. Also the cell phones and other electronics those men were carrying.¡± Riley McFinn was talking to himself when he stepped into Kaitlyn¡¯s room a minute later. ¡°¡­say it¡¯s silly of her to be jealous of Clara. She wouldn¡¯t be jealous if I¡¯d named it Steve. Did she never notice they have the same accent?¡± Kaitlyn¡¯s room was a mess, just as he remembered it. She¡¯d packed in a hurry. And she would not be returning. He picked up her laptop absentmindedly, then checked himself and put it back down. No need to invade her privacy. Her snowglobe collection, on the other hand¡­ Ah. There. ¡°Clara,¡± he said as he reached for the snowglobe containing only an effigy of a closed wooden door within. ¡°Prepare for liftoff. Once I come onboard, I will be indisposed for some time. Any questions?¡± ¡°None.¡± ¡°Then let¡¯s get out of here.¡± Chapter 26 Chapter 26 Black and Shade He came in on a thought, stepping through dreams and nightmares like a spider through its web, and like a spider he sensed a touch, a tremor, a tremble. He was being called. His name was being spoken, his image invoked. Someone elsewhere was attempting to manifest him in a dream, as a facsimile composed of the fog. Yet he had an angel inside him and could not be replicated. He could not be in two places at once. Where one dreamed him into being in the fog, there he was in truth. Abraham Black stepped out of the mist in front of the creature called Shade. They gazed at each other for a moment. Abraham Black had known one like this, though not the same. A different Shade. He grinned horribly. Shade, in his fine tailored suit, stumbled back after a moment, eyes wide, suddenly understanding that the nightmare before him was no illusion. ¡°By the ten,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s actually you!¡± Black was upon him in an instant, his dark eyes gleaming, yellow teeth bared in a wide bleeding smile, his stringy hair wild in a sudden wind. One of his silver revolvers was under Shade¡¯s chin, and the cold iron grip of Black¡¯s other hand held his head in place. ¡°What did you shay?¡± Black whispered. It seemed that all the mist around them whispered it back. ¡°I-I said¨Cit¡¯s you!¡± stammered Shade. ¡°I didn¡¯t think¨C¡± ¡°Before that,¡± said Black. ¡°Shomething about¡­ten.¡± ¡°Y-yes,¡± said Shade. ¡°The ten gods.¡± Black lifted up on his revolver while holding Shade¡¯s head in place until Shade whimpered in pain. ¡°Not godsh,¡± he whispered. ¡°Demonsh. I¡¯m going to kill them all, shee? Every lasht one. They musht pay the prishe.¡± He dropped Shade to the ground, losing interest. Shade dusted himself off. ¡°So,¡± said Shade, a false veneer of carefree confidence in his voice as though he had not been a hair¡¯s breadth from death. ¡°They were in your story, too?¡± ¡°The prishe,¡± Black repeated, staring into the mist. It formed flickering, ghostly shapes, colored shapes. ¡°And you want vengeance?¡± said Shade. ¡°Interesting. What did they do, if you don¡¯t m¨C¡± A metallic click, somehow ear-shatteringly loud in the fog. Light shined off the polished surface of the revolver aimed at Shade, though there was no sun in sight. ¡°I do mind,¡± said Black. ¡°Well¡­okay. We¡¯re from different Narratives. I was only curious. But I¡¯m on your side. You know that, right?¡± ¡°Yesh,¡± said Black. He lowered the gun, slid it back in place. This Shade was no threat. The Shade that Black recalled from his own story had been far more dangerous than this, far more sinister, for more powerful, even without the optics of future-sight, which this pathetic figure lacked. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. This lesser Shade continued. ¡°You¡¯re just a bit¡­uh, different from the Abraham Black that I knew.¡± ¡°I shee,¡± said Black. The fog near to him was darkening as though stained by his presence, as though he were leaking into it. Black saw the trepidation in Shade¡¯s eyes, matched by curiosity. Black had seen that before. He laughed, and Shade flinched at the sound, and the mist echoed and writhed with the horrible noise. Abraham Black looked about with eyes that pierced the fog. He stood in a deserted city street, empty of people, empty of life, empty of dreams. His hand twitched, aching for something to shoot. There was Shade. But Shade, he knew, could be useful. ¡°I will show you shomething,¡± said Black. Everything changed. The surrounding fog parted, coalesced, condensed into another place. It was a pastel world, a world made of paper, all things aflame. The air was hot and thick with fire that spread across the land, a place whose healing from its curse had not gone quite as planned, a test that she had failed because she didn¡¯t understand. The demons gathered here in numbers never seen before, for Black had never caught them out with more than three or four, and now they came together, stepping through ten different doors. There never would have been a better chance to make them pay, together with the flaming serpent that he swore to slay, but alas, he was not there, for he had been torn away. Now his vengeance burned and Black, he yearned to send them back to hell, and their reckoning approached them with a fury none could quell, though for now the world he stood upon was cracking like a shell. ¡°But I took the key, ash you can shee, and doomed them all ash well.¡± Black held up his left hand, showing Shade a glistening black ring on his middle finger. Shade¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°That¡¯s the dark key?¡± He looked around at his new surroundings, taking in the ten figures that stood around him. ¡°And these are¡­¡± ¡°Dead,¡± said Black. Thunder rolled in upon thunder, crashing through the air like a sudden wave. Abraham Black stood at the center of a wheel of smoke. Ten shots, five from each revolver, nearly simultaneous. The ten figures he had called into being around himself and Shade evaporated, each with a bullet hole through their head. He shot one of them twice more as it dissolved. It was the red one. Abraham Black hated her the most. That one had made him what he was. Had toyed with him. Had put an angel in him. Had given him the key to her own destruction. Everything resolved back into gray fog. ¡°If you have the black key¡­¡± said Shade. ¡°They¡¯re doomed, just like you said. Why bother going back?¡± ¡°I want to finish them myshelf,¡± Black replied. ¡°What do you want, Shade?¡± ¡°Easy,¡± Shade replied. ¡°I want to end everything. The cycle.¡± ¡°Memory ish a harsh punishment,¡± Black said by way of agreement. ¡°Let ush do it together. You may be of shome ushe to me, and I to you.¡± Shade considered the offer carefully. ¡°We find a way back in,¡± he said slowly. ¡°We each get a chance. You for vengeance. I for discontinuation.¡± ¡°You show me the way,¡± said Black, his rictus grin more frightening than ever before. ¡°I deshtroy everything.¡± ¡°That¡¯s why you wanted their angels,¡± said Shade to himself. ¡°You¡¯ve been trying to get back in.¡± A pleased smile crept over Shade¡¯s face. ¡°Oh, I know the way,¡± he said. Chapter 27 Chapter 27 Banana Quest EW: reconvening EW: everyone still alive? EW: hello? EW: well shit EW: guess ill just be over here EW: chillin away on pyrrhus today EW: holy shit im rhyming somebody stop me im out of control IM: Bro shut up do you know what time it is EW: yes EW: ambiguity guy remember? KC: it¡¯s evening again already on my moon!! IM: Guess what time of day it is on my moon KC: That¡¯s a trick question! EE: It has been several short days for me. IM: Yeah I think our moons all rotate faster than Earth. IM: Except mine, obviously JW: Hey guys KC: !!!! KC: :D EW: J I M O T H Y JW: Haha sorry if you were worried about me JW: I¡¯m okay! JW: Some stuff just happened EE: I believe this is the case for all of us. EE: We should talk in person. EE: Has everyone found their Skywater door? JW: I have! Skywater is a strange place IM: You¡¯ve been there?! KC: !!?!?! IM: What¡¯s it like? JW: Um JW: Pretty crazy I guess EE: I have found my door as well. KC: Me too! IM: Mine is on an asteroid EW: i know where it is EE: Heidi? EE: This is worrying. EW: yeah no shit JW: Maybe she lost her phone? KC: <:( EE: Do you have a spaceship Isaac? IM: Yeah IM: I¡¯m almost done with ARKO IM: I bet once that¡¯s done we can go to her moon and check on her EE: Then we will plan on that. KC: Hurry, Isaac! #^(*@%__*$&*_**_****#*(*@****#**_* ^*#&&&&*&&&*&*| ? |||#*_|_||_*_*___*|! EW: haha no need to filter the language bro EW: just let it all out EE: Is that your ¡°ghost¡± again? IM: What, you don¡¯t ¡°believe¡± me? You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. IM: They want me to finish ARKO so I can activate some communication array JW: I think my lighthouse has a ghost EW: lighthouse hell yeah EW: like obviously JW: um, I mean besides the light from Niri KC: what does your ghost want, Jim? EW: is niri your guardian? bet hes a big ass dog right? JW: I don¡¯t know what it wants JW: and the big dog is named Maugrim or something JW: he killed Niri JW: I think he¡¯s a wolf actually IM: Eric! I just realized you¡¯re right! Mine is a huge bird, because of Charlie! EW: yeah yeah jacob told me EW: but jim whats this about someone dying? EE: Let us talk in Skywater. I want us all to meet. KC: Sir yes sir! |||**|*||*|**||*|*||*|*| ? *||*||*|||||*|*||*||* ? *||*|*||**||*||*|*| ? *||*|* ? *||**||*|*||*||*||** ^&&$)_^__^&}|^( KC: I think it¡¯s really trying to communicate! :o IM: The only language it knows is knocking stuff over and staining milk and zapping me with static electricity JW: Mine splashes water EW: there must be hella ghosts up in my moon EW: i wonder where they at IM: Okay how soon can we all be in Skywater? EW: im in the middle of my moon so itll take me some time EW: actually how the fuck am i getting reception in here KC: The middle of your moon?? EW: hollow moon remember? EW: it checks out EE: Just get there as soon as you can. Everyone, send a message when you arrive in Skywater City. We can then coordinate and regroup. KC: And let us know if any of you hears from Heidi!!! KC: That includes you, Heidi! ||||||||\||\\|/|/\||/\/|/**/|*/*\\/\\/\/ KC: awwwww, look it¡¯s trying different symbols! EW: wtf do you think its cute? IM: It¡¯s not ¡®awww¡¯-worthy, Kate. Trust me. IM: It is a Sinister Presence *!!*[/][\][*][\//][/\||/][[/][/\\/|]]* KC: maybe it can understand us!? KC: ?:\ KC: hello, Isaac¡¯s ghost! IM: Don¡¯t say it like that, that makes it sound like I¡¯m dead. IM: I mean, dead AGAIN, am I right? JW: How is it texting in our channel? it¡¯s not listed in our group IM: *shrugs* EE: Kate, the space ghost may be attempting to communicate by some kind of code. If so, can you crack it for us? KC: Way ahead of you >:) IM: Did you just knowingly reference Space Ghost? IM: I have to know EE: I do not know what you are talking about. IM: hmm... IM: I bet ARKO could do it EW: i think this arko is no good bro EW: arko shit is all over my dead city EE: We will worry about that when we meet. KC: Carter¡ªout! JW: Whyte out too IM: Whiteout! Ha JW: I hope I can see you all soon! Chapter 28 Chapter 28 Isaac Isaac punctuated the end of the group message with a re-posting of his chart: Isaac¡¯s Chart (2 nd iteration)
Symbol Domain Moon Home Angel
Isaac cube space Icarus (void) orbital satellite Charlie (bird)
Jim paintbrush light Hyperion (color) lighthouse Hazel (dog)
Liz flower Sisyphus (garden) greenhouse Callie (lynx)
Kate snowflake sky Theia (cloud) palace Navi (butterfly)
Eric hourglass time Pyrrhus (hollow) church? Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! Frisby (dragon)
Heidi compass Orpheus (metal) Bahamut (???)
¡°Stars,¡± he told Charlie when the holographic greenish keyboard hovering in front of him flickered and vanished, ¡°are just light plus time.¡± He swung the handheld multi-tool in the vague direction of where he imagined the ghosts congregating to watch him, emphasizing each word. ¡°Light. Plus. Time.¡± An intricate holographic sphere churned silently above the polished black surface of a grand piano. This sphere of light was the size of an exercise ball, and its color, shape, and movement changed depending on what key he played in, and how fast, and which chords, and a million other factors. He called this sphere the ARKO Activation Program. He continued his educational lecture as he turned his attention out one of the dark viewing windows set into the wall of the lounge, helpless against the ever-present and entrancing pull of The Wondrous Cosmos just outside. ¡°What we call stars are just an idea, right? Like money. Or numbers. They don¡¯t exist as we conceive of them; it¡¯s just the ideas are useful. It¡¯s the ideas that we use. Those two stars,¡± he pointed out at a random two specks of light, one of them a caramel color and the other a minty green, ¡°look close, right?¡± Charlie, now in the shape of a barn owl, surprised Isaac by hopping over to the window to have a look. The eyeless face peered out into the darkness. Isaac wondered what he saw. Isaac wondered whether he was actually educating Charlie. He located the two stars again, made room for the ghosts in case they wanted to have a look, and continued. ¡°They look close, but maybe they¡¯re farther away from each other than from us! And you know, Charlie, it took maybe hundreds of years for their light to reach Earth¡­they could have exploded hundreds of years ago, and we just wouldn¡¯t know . We couldn¡¯t know! Do you realize, Charlie, that the speed of light is a cap not only for the passage of matter and energy, but information itself? What does time even mean?¡± He paused, wondering where he had been going with this. ¡°Stars are just ancient light,¡± he concluded, thinking that this was a bit of an anticlimax. The two stars he had chosen had already shifted in relation to each other. ¡°Of course, everything I just said only applies back on Earth. Seems like the stars are restless here.¡± A small cluster of notes rang softly from the high end of the keyboard. He didn¡¯t even turn to look. ¡°What?¡± he asked the ghosts. ¡°Just chill, okay? I¡¯ll go to Skywater, meet up with everyone, then I¡¯ll come back here and finish ARKO, then turn your dang communications relay on. Anyway, if you¡¯ve got something to say, why not use those keys?¡± He pointed at the Phantasmal Conveyance Device?, which was a cookie sheet full of letter-keys that he¡¯d removed from several keyboards. The ghosts had stirred the letters about and even made a few nonsense words, but had otherwise left his Ingenious Contraption alone. Maybe they couldn¡¯t write? Or not in English? Yet they clearlu understand him when he spoke. Next to the PCD stood the Duality Revelator Apparatus?, a plastic box the size and shape of a large book. Isaac didn¡¯t know what it was for, but one side of it was red and the other was green. He had told the ghosts to knock it over in answer to yes-or-no questions, red-side-up for ¡°no¡± and green for ¡°yes.¡± A few tests had shown (1) that they grasped this simple concept, and (2) that they were downright uncooperative. They only occasionally answered his questions, and sometimes they knocked the box over sideways in an act of defiance. Isaac swiveled on the bench to face the piano again. Sheets of paper on the stand displayed the results of his investigations thus far. He had found that programming ARKO was like music theory. That spherical thing hovering over the instrument was the last component necessary to activate ARKO, and it responded to his playing. It moved with the rhythm, turning and churning in fine-toothed gears and flurries of glowing threads to the melody like some inconceivably advanced MIDI software. The Circle of 5ths was important here somehow, but he hadn¡¯t yet figured out quite how. It was some kind of code. A cipher. A puzzle, even. He had to figure it out, probably by playing a certain song, and then ARKO would activate. Isaac thought that somehow he had nearly got it, though he¡¯d only been working on it for half a day. It felt natural. He knew the song already; he had just forgotten it. But man, it sure had a lot of modulations. Wait¡­what about modes? How did the sphere interpret modal melodies? He tested it out with a plain Dorian. It seemed to read that as a natural minor scale¡­or did it? He didn¡¯t know. He couldn¡¯t tell. He sighed and banged on some random keys. The sphere distorted into strange shapes. ¡°I¡¯m an idiot,¡± he said to Charlie. The bird looked at him with a cocked head as something hit the floor behind Isaac. It was the Duality Revelator Apparatus?, fallen over green-side-up. ¡°Oh great, yeah. Real funny.¡± It was kind-of funny, actually, but he wasn¡¯t about to give the ghosts any satisfaction. They¡¯d been getting to be a nuisance. Sinister Presences indeed. Isaac readied himself for another spacewalk. Time for Skywater. It was a city, apparently. People, color, life, dirt, and many other things not to be found here on the aptly named Void Station. He loved it here, really, but he could go for a change. Before he left, he did everything he could to ensure that the automated defenses were functioning at full capacity. The ship which had invaded his airspace earlier had departed shortly, but not before being fired on by a brief burst of blue laser energy. No damage had been done as far as Isaac could tell. The Obviously Evil Spacecraft had simply turned and left, as though it had seen what it needed to see. Was it a scout? Checking to see whether the defenses were up? Isaac didn¡¯t know, and because of this, he didn¡¯t want to be gone for long. So he made a sandwich, vowing to get more creative with the food synthesizer (though it was a good sandwich, grilled ham and Swiss) when he returned. He facetiously left some milk and cookies out for the ghosts in case they got the munchies. He stood for a moment in the central lounge-area with the piano trying to think of things he might need. Money? He had no idea how that worked here. Possibly he had money, but if so, it was certainly all electronic. He¡¯d figure that out when he got there. Besides that, given his ability to produce needed objects at will with the pendant, he thought he was pretty well set. He stepped into the black matte spacesuit, and then, with a shiver of anticipation, through the airlock and back out into space. His maneuvering skills had improved steadily on his other test-spacewalks. It was easy to locate and then arrive at the Skywater door. He kept a careful watch for the huge white bird, but he saw nothing. When he had landed on the slowly rotating asteroid and steadied himself on the silver arch of the doorframe, he took a moment to appreciate the view. The green planet rose in front of him, vast and beautiful and half in shadow. No sense putting it off! He removed the hexagonal pendant from its specially made pocket on his chest and touched it against the black pad mounted on the silver arch of the door. The door flickered to life. Light wavered in the middle of the arch. It condensed into a small bright point, which extended into a thin vertical line and then flashed out in the blink of an eye to reveal an overcast sky beyond, and strange rooftops rising up into the hazy distance. Chapter 29 Chapter 29 Jimothy Jimothy put Isaac¡¯s phone carefully into his pocket. He would have to return it, eventually. Isaac said he didn¡¯t need it back, but Isaac had probably forgotten about all the notes and pictures and stuff on it. Isaac had made a lot of notes about ideas for stories and music, but Jimothy hadn¡¯t read them, though he was curious. He knew how he would feel about people looking at his rough sketches of paintings! Well, actually he wouldn¡¯t mind that much if it were his friends, but Isaac was shy about that stuff. Like Elizabeth. He sat on a shore of white rocks, and he stacked the rocks into little towers while Hazel splashed about in the inky sea. The sea was not black water; it was literally ink. Thick waves of it sloshed up the shore, slowly and at broad intervals. The black waves parted over the glittering white rocks and retreated in intricate veins of darkness that crept back into the silent waters. The ink did not stick to the white rocks at all, any more than it stuck to Hazel¡¯s fur as the dog splashed and paddled awkwardly a dozen yards offshore. Sometimes beads of ink remained behind on the white stones, speckling them like fat, round bugs. It was quiet for a rocky seaside. No birds, no people. The waves made little noise; they didn¡¯t break and barely splashed against the rocks. Even Hazel¡¯s frantic paddling sounded muffled in the thick liquid. The sky was empty overhead save for a few drifting wisps of blackness staining the white like clouds in negative. A cluster of cutout-style clouds, only their faint outlines visible, marked the horizon over the inky sea. No noise but Hazel and the soft slurping of the ink on the shore. The not-unpleasant but very strong scent of fresh ink permeated the air. Jimothy breathed it deeply. He felt good today. Calm. He felt better than he had since Niri had died, which had been two cycles ago. He hadn¡¯t fallen all morning. And he¡¯d found another light crystal. He would add it to the lighthouse, increasing its light. Jimothy took up his cane, which he had colored in spiraling shades of green. The black-and-white of everything here bothered him. It wasn¡¯t bad-looking all by itself. It was maybe even stylish, though he would have to ask Elizabeth about that to be sure. But it needed color. With the cane, he tapped a nearby rock, making it cherry-red. If he went rock-by-rock down the beach, he would get tired after only a short distance. He had limited light. With the crystal in his pocket¡­ He touched the crystal. It¡¯s brilliance flashed through his mind like a rapid sunrise. He imagined all the rocks along the beach to his right in bright colors like a bag of spilled Skittles, all the way until it curved out of view a half-mile away. Then he made it real. He still didn¡¯t know how. It was a bit like using the Line. Like flipping a little switch. And he borrowed light from the crystal he was touching. Now the rocks were colored. It was a marvelously different experience watching the black ink rise over the vibrantly colored rocks, then retreat, encasing the colors in a veiny webbing. The sight of it gave him a little thrill. It had taken a good chunk of the light in the crystal to do that. But with Niri¡¯s light¡­with that, he could re-color the whole inky sea, all the way to the gray cliffs that rose across the waves, past scattered rocky isles. But he didn¡¯t want to use Niri¡¯s light, not even in the top of the lighthouse. Listen¡­ He closed his eyes and listened. A faint breeze tickled his skin. The breeze was too weak to have any effect on the ink. The wolf¡­ Jimothy sometimes got the sense that someone was talking to him, even when there was obviously no one around. Was it the big wolf, Maugrim? Or was it, like Isaac said, ghosts? Jimothy wondered if it was the ghost of Niri. The thought of an invisible, ghostly Niri, possibly condemning him for leading her to her death on a strange world, just wandering the lighthouse, made Jimothy uneasy. Hazel interrupted Jimothy¡¯s thoughts by jumping on him from the side. Hazel¡¯s eager paws smeared black ink all over Jimothy¡¯s left side. That was fine; his right side had gotten the same treatment only a few minutes before. Now he was symmetrical. He didn¡¯t really care about being covered in ink, except for the stickiness. As he laughed and hugged Hazel, Jimothy remembered with a cringe how he had once tried to get Hazel¡¯s help in a painting by painting the dog¡¯s paw for a paw-print. That had not worked out. Hazel shook himself off, as dogs do, but it wasn¡¯t necessary. The ink didn¡¯t stick to Hazel. Nothing did, not even color. Hazel got down low and crawled into Jimothy¡¯s lap. Once he was there, he wiggled in such excitement that Jimothy could hardly even pet him. ¡°We¡¯re going back to the city, Hazel,¡± said Jimothy. ¡°But we¡¯re not bringing anyone back this time, okay?¡± He had already decided this, firmly. If Isaac or Elizabeth or anybody wanted to come with Jimothy to Hyperion, he was going to say no. He had practiced in the mirror that morning. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. ¡°We should get going,¡± he told Hazel. ¡°I¡¯m really excited to see everybody. I bet you are too, huh?¡± Jimothy intended to pat Hazel, but his hand passed through empty air as Hazel was suddenly over the inky sea in front of Jimothy. Then, even before Hazel had fallen into the sea, he was onshore. Then he was back out over the ink but in a different place, then over Jimothy, then up on the steep banks, then back on the white rock, then a dozen other places all so quickly that Jimothy could hardly see. Hazel pranced and barked wherever he went, unable to contain his enthusiasm. Jimothy laughed. ¡°Okay,¡± he said, ¡°but you shouldn¡¯t chase Callie this time, okay?¡± He thought for a moment, ¡°Or any of their other angels.¡± Isaac had told them all in the chat who had what angels. Eric had a dragon? Hazel probably wouldn¡¯t be able to chase that. But what was a Bahamut? Jimothy hauled himself to his feet, which was easy enough when he could make a momentary handhold in the air wherever he needed one. He took a minute to admire the two halves of the shoreline: monochrome to his left and Skittles to his right. It was better this way, better even than if the whole shore was colored. ¡°Chiaroscuro,¡± he told Hazel. ¡°It¡¯s all in the contrast.¡± He struck out from the place he had decided to call the Sea of Ink. The ink on him and his clothes dried out as he walked. He paused frequently to appreciate the view or to colorize something. The view consisted of strange rocks and broad horizons of grass and low bushes. The path wound about like a lazy river, and it had a way of suddenly revealing a gorge or a ravine of surprising size. Bits of color speckled the path to the Skywater door, like scales shed from a molting rainbow dragon as it flew past. Jimothy was at least in no danger of getting lost. He also was not in danger of night falling, because he had learned to tell when it was getting close. The shadows around him were perfectly calm. He had a long time before night. He saw the huge wolf when he approached the forest. This was the first time he had seen the creature since it killed Niri, and Jimothy froze with fear when he perceived its great mass moving beyond a distant hill. It was silvery gray, and the hills were very pale, and both were furry on top, so Jimothy had not noticed until it moved. But if Maugrim had even noticed Jimothy, it showed no sign of it. It crested a hill, came fully into view, and trotted off at a deceptively easy pace. Hazel growled softly, but Jimothy kept his eyes fixed on the retreating wolf. He didn¡¯t realize he¡¯d been holding his breath until his lungs were already burning and he had to gasp for air. The wolf had gone from sight. What was it doing? Hunting? Something that big must eat a lot, but Jimothy had seen no animals for it to hunt. Was it looking for him? No, even a stupid creature would have known to just follow the highly visible trail of color that Jimothy left behind him, and Jimothy doubted that Maugrim was stupid. He came to the chasm where he¡¯d found the crystal. There was no bridge here, but he made one out of cerulean light and crossed it without stopping. He passed a large column of rocks he had stacked, each of them far too heavy for him to lift normally. He stopped to look at it, and it occurred to him how remarkable it was that he could just lift heavy things now, including himself. The others could probably do things like this too. What would their abilities be? He went to look at the stained-glass window before going to Skywater. He had finished its reassembly. Ten figures of varying size stood in a line, facing away, looking up at something bright in the sky above. Most of the foreground was in shadows, including whatever the ten were standing on, while the sky they were looking at was brighter, and the bright object was fogged in such a way that it would be the brightest part of the window if light were shining through it as intended. The figures were just black outlines, but each one had little bits of color on them. If Jimothy had put it together correctly, then it looked like each figure had their own color, except for three. Gods¡­ Jimothy moved toward the Skywater door, but a flare of light behind him made him turn back. The ground beneath the stained-glass window flared with light. The entire piece shone. Tiny fractures of illumination spiderwebbing the composition ruined the intended experience, but Jimothy at least got the idea. It had more depth of field and gray scale variation than he¡¯d thought, and the tiny bits of color stuck out prominently. They seemed to glow in the darkness of the surrounding glass. Yes¡­ Yes. It was good. Look¡­ ¡°We should show the others,¡± he told Hazel. ¡°I bet Isaac¡­¡± Oh, right. He¡¯d decided not to let anyone else on his moon. Orange¡­ ¡°Well, maybe I could¡­um, orange?¡± Jimothy was suddenly very confused. He¡¯d been thinking about maybe taking a picture or something for the others, but¡­orange? One of the colors in the window was orange. It was on the third figure from the right. Jimothy had cleared a path through the rubble, but the ground was still uneven, so he used his cane to carefully step his way back out of the ruined building. Me¡­ Yes, him. Jimothy thought he almost remembered something¨Canother dream, maybe? How often did he think about other dreams when he was already inside of a dream? He didn¡¯t know. He didn¡¯t remember. Thinking about that stuff was too complicated and gave him a headache. It was like that movie he¡¯d watched with Isaac and Eric a while back, where they¡¯d kept going into dreams inside of dreams until Jimothy was really confused. He came to the door, the one all alone with nothing around or behind it, just like the door up at the top of the lighthouse. He took a deep breath and then pushed the hexagon against it. Light moved around the cracks between door and frame, and even before Jimothy opened it, he could tell the difference. Something hummed on the other side of the door now, something bright and warm and loud and crazy and colorful. The city. He gripped his cane in one hand, checked the crystal in the pocket of his jacket with the other, and stumbled through. Chapter 30 Chapter 30 Elizabeth Song at the end of the road Dawn at the end of the night Love at the end of pain Flower so bright in the winter rain - Elizabeth Eddison Elizabeth lowered her phone and gazed up at the top, an inverted mountain of metal, cold as ice. Unmoving. It looked little different from the spinning tops she recalled playing with as a child, save for its size and its material construction. Was it bronze? She raised her phone and wrote another text. EE: I have a question for you. KC: :D KC: I LOVE QUESTIONS EE: More of a confirmation, really. KC: Go for it! EE: Are perpetual motion machines possible? KC: Nope! EE: Not at all? KC: Not even a little bit! KC: As much possible as it is that 3+3=/=6 KC: is how much possible it is to have perpetual motion KC: sorry for grammar :p EE: Even here? KC: Even here! KC: If it were possible here, then that would mean that the fundamental laws of physics would be different :o KC: It would break not just one, but TWO laws of thermodynamics! KC: And nothing could exist in a world like that! EE: As I thought. EE: Entropy, yes? KC: Yes! KC: Nothing can keep going forever all on its own, not even the most efficient machine! EE: What about a perfect machine? KC: Also impossible :( KC: Alas! KC: All of existence is destined for equilibrium! KC: Someday all matter and energy will be perfectly dispersed! KC: The universe will be a flat nothing! EE: You seem rather excited about that. KC: Well it¡¯s cool :) EE: If you say so. KC: Why are you asking about perpetual motion, Liz? EE: I¡¯m looking at a perpetual motion machine I¡¯m supposed to get working. KC: ?:\ EE: Are you familiar with the word ¡°Sisyphus?¡± KC: Is it a disease?!?! EE: It means I have an impossible task. KC: I see! KC: Perpetual motion IS impossible. KC: But a highly efficient machine could simulate perpetual motion for a long time! EE: Well, we can talk later. See you in Skywater. KC: Yeah! I can¡¯t wait! Elizabeth stowed her phone and gave the enormous mechanism a final dubious glance. Then, just to be sure, she brought her phone back out and took a picture of it. The inert top was tall as the ancient white oak out back of her old house. Its vast bulk radiated cold. It stood upright, held in place by the cog-like fixture at its height, which interlocked with other wheels and machinery up there in the shadows. Elizabeth could not tell just by looking, but she thought that this top was at the center of a vast and complex mechanism. When it turned, its force would turn everything else. Elizabeth found it difficult to imagine a force of such magnitude. A small perpetual motion machine was impossible enough. Something that could turn those wheels¡­ ¡°You wanted to see the flower?¡± asked Kyko in a spirited chirp. Elizabeth turned to her companions. Kyko, the cardinal, her guide. Fjalli, an ancient tortoise creature, caretaker of this place. Lazaru the librarian, an apathetic but curious orangutan. Sister Thorn, a massive she-bear and archon to the distant and dying King Basileus. She was a grouch, to put it mildly, but with her from the capital came the enthusiastic and fishy Laska, captain of the defense force. They weren¡¯t really a bear, a fish, an ape. They strongly resembled those creatures, inheriting physical characteristics and mannerisms. And, with Sister Thorn, size. ¡°It is a journey?¡± Elizabeth asked. ¡°Something of a trek, indeed,¡± replied Kyko with a ruffle of feathers. ¡°There is no track to the height of the mountain.¡± ¡°A dangerous journey! Indeed,¡± said Laska in her soft slurred voice, her piscene eyes bright. ¡°Perilous!¡± She said ¡®perilous¡¯ the way Elmer Sky might have said ¡®delightful!¡¯ ¡°I must travel to Skywater,¡± she told them. She spoke, as usual, in a tone of relaxed authority. She would do as she pleased, that tone said. Elizabeth had learned that they expected her to speak like that. She was supposed to be somebody important here, even though her assigned task was widely known to be impossible. Perhaps the king, Basileus, had answers. Everyone spoke highly of the king, although perhaps that was because Sister Thorn would glower at any who did not. Elizabeth had not gone to see him yet, mainly out of nervousness and a hesitancy to involve herself too deeply in the apparently complex political situation here on Sisyphus. But she would, she resolved, when she returned from Skywater. She would go see the king. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. They nodded in understanding at her intent to travel to Skywater¨Call except Lazaru, who as usual didn¡¯t seem to give a damn what she did, or indeed about anything. Lazaru chewed on the tip of a feather pen, getting ink stains on his simian lip as he peered comically at some document he was penning. ¡°Do you go,¡± rasped the tortoise Fjalli, who then paused for an uncomfortably long period to sort out his next words, ¡°to find your allies?¡± This piqued the interest of the others, who watched her with expectant eyes, all but Lazaru. Elizabeth nodded once, firmly. ¡°I do,¡± she said. ¡°We will meet, all together.¡± ¡°E-excellent!¡± Fjalli declared shortly before bursting into a fit of coughing. ¡°To the train, then,¡± suggested Kyko, with that excited glint in his big that he always got when speaking of trains. They set out for the train, crawling like tiny shivering ants across the floor of the artificial cavern. All of them were bundled against the cold except for Sister Thorn, who seemed quite comfortable in her thick brown fur and simple toga-like wrappings. Kyko practically danced ahead, nimble on his bird¡¯s feet despite his heavy blue jacket. Laska marched with a quick, determined step; her peculiarly shaped boots clicked smartly on the stone. Though not much larger than Elizabeth, Laska had a powerful sense of purpose and presence about her. Not as much as Sister Thorn, it must be admitted, who could loom effectively even from a sitting position across the space of a large room. The bear stalked forward in such a way that suggested the walls ahead would be wise to make way for her. Lazaru loped along partly on his stubby legs and partly on his knuckles. He wore a leather backpack about the same size as his whole body. It was full of books, yet seemed not to weigh him down in the slightest. Fjalli, the slowest, brought up the rear. Elizabeth walked with him as he hobbled along. He labored under the weight of his shell. He looked like he could use a cane, at the least. ¡°Will you be all right?¡± she asked the old tortoise. He chuckled softly. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about these old bones,¡± he said. ¡°Step carefully yourself, rather. In that place. The City of Doors.¡± ¡°Why?¡± He coughed a laugh. ¡°City of Fools, more like. Not¡­that Dyaz is any different.¡± Dyaz was the capital of Sisyphus, home of King Basileus. ¡°I will keep that in mind,¡± she said. Fjalli chuckled. ¡°I am sure that you will!¡± They ascended stairs next, and Elizabeth took each step one at a time to match Fjalli¡¯s speed. Kyko returned to accompany them, followed shortly by Laska. The silvery fish-captain apologized for leaving them behind. ¡°What do you do, here, exactly?¡± Elizabeth asked of Fjalli. ¡°Not much,¡± he said, ¡°not much. But someone must be the caretaker, yes? And that someone is I.¡± ¡°And you have no ideas concerning how that machine might be moved?¡± ¡°You are the Child of Motion, not I,¡± he replied. ¡°I am not the Healing God either.¡± Another hoarse chuckle. ¡°Can¡¯t make a frozen flower grow.¡± Elizabeth frowned. This was not the first she had heard of the gods here. ¡°Who is the Healing God?¡± she asked. ¡°The living one,¡± said Kyko. ¡°The healer,¡± said Laska. ¡°She is all things green and growing,¡± added Kyko. ¡°So¡­she¡¯s not here?¡± said Elizabeth. ¡°The gods are dead,¡± said Kyko sadly, shaking his head. ¡°According to some,¡± Laska added in sharp rebuke. A thin leather-bound book lay in their path up ahead, evidently spilled from Lazaru¡¯s bag, although Elizabeth judged this unlikely to have been an accident. The Ten, its title read in golden script. Elizabeth picked it up and flipped through it. It was written in a neat, tight hand, accompanied here and there by illustrations. Laska muttered something about Lazaru as Elizabeth tucked it under her arm and continued up the steps. Callie waited for them in the train car, relaxed and yawning as though she¡¯d been there napping the entire time. Maybe she had. It was Callie¡¯s lassitude, more than anything else, that put Elizabeth at ease around Sister Thorn. The interior of the single-cabin train unit was comparatively warm. Elizabeth unzipped her coat, pulled off her gloves and stuffed them in her pocket. ¡°Are you tired, Elizabeth?¡± grumbled Sister Thorn, startling Elizabeth. Deep brown eyes gazed from the shadowed face of the bear in the far corner of the cabin. Sister Thorn and Kyko were the only ones who would call Elizabeth by name. Elizabeth hesitated, then nodded in response. ¡°Rest on the way, then,¡± advised Sister Thorn. Kyko took the controls, and they were off. A cardinal, a brown bear, a fish, an orangutan, a tortoise, a cat, a tired and lost and confused girl who didn¡¯t know what she was doing, who missed her sister and mother and home and bedroom, who worried about her friends. Callie was there, slinking casually in-between Elizabeth¡¯s arms and settling her soft reassuring weight onto Elizabeth¡¯s lap in the back of the cabin. Elizabeth hugged Callie and could not bring herself to care whether such an action might look immature to the others. The train windows displayed nothing as they began to move; they were deep underground. So, while waiting for a view to open up when the train eventually surfaced, Elizabeth watched her companions. Lazaru as usual kept to himself¨Cindeed, so much that Elizabeth wondered why he was even here, accompanying her wherever she went. She didn¡¯t even know what library he represented. He had left her a book, though. She intended to investigate the book later. Fjalli had fallen asleep, and Sister Thorn was¡­also asleep? If so, then her aura of intensity had an odd way of lingering even in unconsciousness. Perhaps she was meditating? Laska had moved up to the front of the cabin with Kyko and was engaging him in lively conversation. Something about the gods. Elizabeth¡¯s eyes lingered on the two curved swords which hung at Laska¡¯s waist. The fishy woman seemed a bit brash and even silly, but she was the captain of the defense of this moon, defense against ¡°the Dark World,¡± which name was a bit much to Elizabeth¡¯s mind. ¡°Dark World.¡± That was like something from one of Isaac¡¯s stories. Clich¨¦. Amateurish. Yet here she was, with the Dark World apparently an undeniable reality. Could she still call it bad writing if it was demonstrably real? She considered this for a minute before deciding that indeed she could. Thinking that way, many episodes in her life had been badly written. Such a thought made her smile. Was this perhaps how Isaac thought of the providence of his God? No doubt Isaac would deny that God would write anything badly. Yet facts were facts, as AJ liked to say. A creeping wave of homesickness tested the shores of Elizabeth Isle as the train abruptly emerged into brilliant whiteness. A panorama of broad open fields crusted with snow spread out beyond the window, pale and wan in the gray morning light. Delicate traceries of pink threaded the dawning sky. The sun, or what passed for a sun here, still lay soft and white beneath the horizon. The entire scene was noticeably off. Something about it indicated subtly but definitely that this was not home; this was not Earth. Maybe it was the noticeable curvature of the horizon, or the color of the morning light. That faint alien strangeness, reminiscent of home yet different, only served to enhance the sting of longing Elizabeth felt. Her eyes closed. She leaned her head against the window, felt the steady rumbling of the train matched with Callie¡¯s warm purring. She was warm here in her thick coat and hat. Warm and cozy, if not exactly in a restful position. She thought of home, and her family, and her friends. She imagined meeting them, what she would say, the things they would do¡­ She noticed the frog first, green and happy. It jumped about in a playful dance. ¡°I am the healer,¡± it croaked, ¡°but I can¡¯t heal everything. The most important things cannot be healed. Not by me!¡± Elizabeth saw that the frog was jumping about on a thick tawny carpet striped with black and white. The carpet rose up and down in a steady, slow rhythm. Not a carpet at all! It was the back of a great golden tiger. Now she heard its grumbling, a sound like distant thunder. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter,¡± she thought she heard it say. ¡°All things can be overcome. Endure. Outlast. Resolve. Nothing is impossible. Unfortunately.¡± ¡°There¡¯s a flower,¡± said the frog, ¡°but I can¡¯t make it grow! How strange!¡± ¡°I see,¡± said the tiger. Its voice rumbled and shook Elizabeth and the frog. The frog tumbled with a giggle as the thunderous voice of the tiger continued. ¡°Don¡¯t give up! Never.¡± Elizabeth spoke, her voice small and weak compared to theirs. ¡°I don¡¯t want to write poems about giving up,¡± she told them. ¡°I want to make the flower grow.¡± The flower bright. It came, amid the cold of winter, when half gone was the night. And there it was: the flower, white against the dark snow-speckled rocks, encrusted with ice in a thin, high place. It was large for a flower, but smaller than she had expected. She could have held its bud in both her hands. It was a peony, a pure white peony on a frosted green stem. Its petals were like palest ivory, its anthers asparkle with starlight. It looked so cold, so frail. How could it possibly still be alive? ¡°Motion,¡± said a voice behind her, cold as the rocks. Elizabeth saw behind her without turning. There on the slope, stars behind and the blue-green world of Ardia above, stood a great beast of a cat. Tiger? Lynx? Lion? All of these and none. Rather, something ancient, something primal. The platonic ideal of a feline, perhaps, rendered all in a majestic gray, its long hair twitching in the wind and its old eyes watching. Those ancient eyes seemed familiar. ¡°Movement is change,¡± it said. ¡°Change is necessary.¡± Speaking in riddles? She could play that game. She spoke boldly and tried not to let her voice shake, though she herself was shaking. This being would not harm her; she knew it, somehow. Then, why was she so afraid? She trembled, yet she spoke: ¡°Change is inevitable.¡± The great cat nodded slightly. Then it gestured at the flower with a flick of its great maned head. ¡°That,¡± it said, ¡°is The End.¡± Elizabeth heard the finality in these words. The End. She wanted to ask how, if change was inevitable, the flower could be The End. Surely there is no finality; surely there will always be motion, change. Perpetual motion might be impossible for a machine, but was it not inevitable for a living person? Or a flower. But the great cat was suddenly gone, and so was she. There was only a flower, sparkling and frozen there on the dark peak, beneath the glittering stars. Chapter 31 Chapter 31 Eric ¡°What they say?¡± asked Jacob. Eric shrugged and pocketed his phone as he stepped over a chunk of rubble. ¡°Goin¡¯ to Skywater I guess. You know where the door is?¡± Jacob snapped; a small silent firework blossomed into the air around his hand and fell sparkling to the dust. He didn¡¯t even look at it. ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s close to your place.¡± ¡°Cool. Well, we¡¯re almost there.¡± Eric led them through the ruined and empty streets back to his cathedral. He limped a little, and he nursed a long deep scratch on his left forearm as he walked, but really he was lucky to have got away with that much. Unlike Jacob. ¡°You sure you¡¯re okay?¡± he asked. Jacob, strolling casually on the other side of the street, kept snapping. ¡°What? Oh, yeah, I¡¯m fine.¡± He didn¡¯t look fine. His hoodie, now completely coated in gray dust, was shredded all down one side, stained with his blood. Not as much blood as there probably should have been, though. Eric was beginning to wonder if Jacob Hollow was entirely human. ¡°You, uh, fight monsters down there every day?¡± Eric asked. ¡°Nah. They only just started waking up. You know, since you came.¡± Snap. Snap. ¡°Still don¡¯t know anyone named Isaac Milton?¡± Jacob frowned down at the sandy asphalt, then up at the dark starless sky. ¡°No¡­¡± he said, but he didn¡¯t sound sure about it. This was not the same Jacob that had answered Isaac¡¯s phone a few days ago. But he was close, according to Isaac. Pretty much the exact same. They walked in silence for a time, only broken by the scuffling of their feet on the sandy street and the irregular snapping of Jacob¡¯s fingers, each accompanied with a slight flare of light. ¡°Didn¡¯t think it would explode like that,¡± said Jacob after a minute. ¡°Mmm. Yeah. Thanks,¡± said Eric. Jacob had saved his life back there. So had his helmet, which was still down there somewhere with a huge chunk blown right the hell out of it. It had done its job, that was for sure. He liked the idea of getting a replacement helmet, given how effective the previous one had been at keeping his brains inside his skull. He¡¯d lost the helmet, but he¡¯d scavenged some gear down there too. One thing was a torn piece of gray tarpaulin which he had fastened around his neck so it hung down his back like a cape. Did it look cool? Hell yeah, and fuck the haters who said it didn¡¯t. Jacob told him it was some kind of energy-absorbent superfabric. Possibly it was a piece of Eranex¡¯s wing. They kept walking, their progress at one point interrupted by a fissure that ran most of the way across the street. They crossed on the crumbling strip of sidewalk that remained to one side. Part of the sidewalk tumbled away into the darkness below as they crossed. They came to the church, Eric¡¯s new home. Jacob strolled in through the front door as though he owned the place. He didn¡¯t even stop to look around until he came to the metronomes. He stood beneath them in the ever-shifting shadows and gazed up at the intricate machinery. ¡°So this is them,¡± he said when Eric came up beside him. ¡°This place was all locked up before you came. I never saw them before now.¡± ¡°Know what happens if they get broken?¡± asked Eric. ¡°You mean, does your heart stop if your metronome breaks?¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°No idea.¡± ¡°Shit.¡± Jacob laughed, and it was a bit of a crazy laugh. ¡°I bet you¡¯ll find out.¡± Eric led Jacob and Frisby to the living quarters in back. Here they made sandwiches because Eric couldn¡¯t bother to come up with anything more complicated. They sat and ate while Eric cranked on some tunes. The music thumped down from the speakers in the ceiling. Jacob gazed around thoughtfully as he chewed, occasionally twitching or laughing at nothing. Maybe it was a weird kind of silence, but Eric didn¡¯t feel uncomfortable. It was a relief having someone around. Jacob was an oddball, but so what? All of his friends were weird. And Jacob, though he had a stubbly scruff of beard and was probably at least half a dozen years older than Eric, seemed like he had the makings of a friend. He had saved Eric¡¯s life, after all. Friends did that. Jacob had also made the stupid suggestion to keep going down in the first place, which had resulted in him needing to save Eric¡¯s life. Friends also did that. When he had finished eating, Eric unloaded the contents of his backpack. He had found some stuff down there. More cryptic graffiti, but also an old shotgun-like weapon (ARKO). He put it next to the sword and the axe. He was getting a collection. They played cards. Jacob only knew games that used six-suited decks, but that was fine because that was all Eric could find. The suits in this deck were called blooms, boxes, brushes, hearts, ways, and snow. Jacob taught Eric some simple two-person games; Eric taught Jacob some card tricks. They laughed, drank juice, nodded their heads to the music, played fetch with Frisby by flinging unneeded fool cards across the room. Jacob snapped to a rhythm now, producing a miniature light show to go with the music. Eric had seen him create much more than pretty lights down there in the labyrinthine pipes and tunnels in the darkness below, but it was nice to know that if Kate¡¯s proposed six-person band ever made it big they¡¯d have the phototechnics on lock. Jacob seemed completely at-ease in Eric¡¯s home, like a friend who¡¯d been coming over to hang out for years. Eric liked that. He began drumming on the table to the music. Jacob¡¯s snapping became more rhythmic, more complex. Eric returned by starting to beat box. Soon they were jamming to the tunes. Eric hopped over onto the drumset and followed along with the beat while Jacob just nodded his head real cool and snapped his fingers. He could do that thing with multiple snaps on each hand, going so hard it seemed like his fingers were a complete rhythm section. After a couple songs, Jacob had to slow down and flex his overworked fingers. Eric returned to the table and gathered up the cards like nothing had happened. ¡°Nice,¡± he told Jacob. ¡°Nice,¡± Jacob replied. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. And just like that, they were back to what they¡¯d been doing before. It made Eric miss hanging out with Isaac. That kid was always up for some random jam sessions. ¡°Hero of Time, huh?¡± said Jacob at one point, peering at his cards as though reading the fine print. ¡°Yup,¡± said Eric. ¡°Know what you can do?¡± ¡°Do? Like powers and shit?¡± ¡°Everyone can shit,¡± said Jacob. ¡°I was talking about the powers.¡± Eric spluttered with laughter, coughed up some juice. ¡°Nope,¡± he said as he dried his chin with his shirt. ¡°I get powers? Cool. Don¡¯t know what they are though. Haven¡¯t seen ¡®em.¡± He flicked a card at Frisby. It sliced left, but Frisby appeared in the right spot to intercept it. The angel clutched at it happily with all four claws. Eric didn¡¯t say it, but he thought Jacob was probably full of shit. Time powers? What, like time travel? That would solve all his problems real nice, wouldn¡¯t it? But he couldn¡¯t possibly have time powers, because if he ever got those in the future then he¡¯d already have used them to¡­ He scrunched up his eyebrows. Wait. Shit. On the train, the phone call from himself in the future. ¡°Shit,¡± he whispered. It suddenly seemed very important to remember exactly what that voice had said. It had told him to check her pockets, right? Was there a bad continuation of events on some alternate timeline where he hadn¡¯t done that and everything had gone to shit as a result? Had he already used his powers, in the future, to fix things? His ability to do so must be limited, given how shitty that phone connection had been¡­ ¡°Um¡­you still there?¡± asked Jacob. ¡°I can time travel,¡± said Eric quietly. Then he frowned. ¡°No, that¡¯s not right. I can¡­call my past self? I¡¯ve only done it once, though. Maybe there¡¯s something else.¡± ¡°But if¡­oh. Hmm¡­that¡¯s complicated.¡± Jacob frowned as he visibly grappled with the irrational logistics of past-self-communication. ¡°Time travel doesn¡¯t work,¡± said Eric. ¡°Whenever it¡¯s depicted in media, it¡¯s almost never logically consistent. Not completely.¡± He remembered arguing about this with Isaac. Isaac had developed, for reasons of his RPG game, a series of rules for logically consistent time-travel scenarios. They were strict and relied on ¡°separate timelines,¡± which Eric had described as ¡°cheating.¡± But Jacob just shrugged. ¡°How much of life is logically consistent? Especially here. A story has as much logical consistency as its author gives it. Maybe a lack of that consistency makes it a bad story, but that doesn¡¯t matter to the heroes.¡± ¡°The heroes¡­¡± Eric muttered. ¡°Of what?¡± Jacob shrugged. ¡°It actually sounds more fucking ominous than cool right now.¡± Maybe it was having just almost died, for the several-th time in the past few days. ¡°Heroes risk their lives, right? For a reason. But what¡¯s our reason? And why the hell does it seem like this reason was chosen for us? I literally don¡¯t even know what I¡¯m doing here.¡± Jacob shrugged again. Frisby Wiser appeared on the table and Jacob scratched his wings with a card. The dragon chirped happily. ¡°I don¡¯t know about that. But I think you¡¯re supposed to save the world or something. Eric groaned. So fucking clich¨¦. ¡°What world?¡± Jacob pointed up. Right, the big planet above them. ¡°From what?¡± ¡°The Dark World, I guess. I don¡¯t know the details. I don¡¯t actually know very much at all. I¡¯m not really supposed to, or something. They should explain it all to you at Skywater, though. The Lords and Ladies. Somehow I know that.¡± He chuckled, but there wasn¡¯t much mirth in it. Eric slapped the table. ¡°Let¡¯s go then.¡± He was tired, but he didn¡¯t want to delay the rest of them. He could sleep when he got back. ¡°You said you know where the door is, right?¡± Jacob nodded. ¡°Anything I should bring?¡± Eric cast an eye over his assorted shit. Should he take a weapon? The sword? Or something more subtle, like a gun? ¡°Don¡¯t know, never been there.¡± ¡°Well, now¡¯s your chance. Let¡¯s go.¡± ¡°Actually¡­¡± Jacob hesitated. ¡°I think I should stay here. To, uh¡­guard the metronomes.¡± Being all alone on the Hollow Moon probably didn¡¯t allow for much practice at subterfuge. He was obviously lying. Why didn¡¯t he want to go? He made a good point, though. Someone should guard the metronomes. Eric briefly considered the possibility that Jacob would betray him and destroy them, but he was pretty sure that if Jacob only wanted to break the metronomes, he would¡¯ve done it already. Hell, he would¡¯ve just let Eric die back there. Instead, Jacob¡¯s right arm was torn to shreds, the skin held in place by bands of solid light. ¡°Cool,¡± said Eric as though he had expected this response. ¡°Just tell me where it is, then. I¡¯ll try to be back soon. Then we can work out a plan. Also I¡¯m an idiot for not thinking of this sooner, but there¡¯s some medical shit in the bathroom if that¡¯ll help your arm.¡± He hadn¡¯t thought of it because Jacob gave no sign whatsoever of being hurt or in pain. ¡°A plan?¡± asked Jacob. ¡°For what to do next. Figure out my powers and shit. How to beat down those Darkworlders. What¡¯s the deal with the dragon. All that.¡± Jacob nodded, though he seemed distracted. Twenty minutes later, Eric and Frisby stood before the door. It was freestanding in an open area that had probably once been a park or something, several blocks from the church. ¡°Skywater¡± was carved into the stone at the base like a welcome mat. It was just like the door at the top of his base: heavy wood, thick and solid. It had a six-sided symbol right in the middle as though burned there. Eric took the pendant from his pocket and pressed it up against the symbol. The door shuddered. Eric thought he heard sounds from the other side. Frisby chirped and hopped up and down on his shoulder. Eric shoved the door open, squinted at the bright light, and stepped through onto a high, clear place, a great city sprawling before him. Chapter 32 Chapter 32 Kate The lab was large and bright, full of tables and strange machines, drawers and cupboards, sinks and stovetops, refrigerators and freezers. It was big enough for a dozen lab-coated clipboard-wielding scientists, but right now it only had one, plus four large Lepidoptera. Kate enjoyed explaining things while she worked. It helped her to focus and not get distracted from what she was doing. It was a challenge: how to elucidate complex concepts in physics to Dr. Heisenberg (the caterpie) or Whiskey (the wallaroo), or one of her friends. In her lab back home, she kept a crowd of stuffed animals for this purpose. She was learning now that speaking to actual people was so much more fun, though they did tend to get into things. The innocent inquisitiveness of the Theians left a trail of scattered papers and disorganized tools all across Kate¡¯s new lab. It was a small price to pay. Not like she knew where anything was supposed to be, anyway! It was her and Navi, with Flitch, Thlytri, Shlushluth, and Jan. Jan was Shlushluth¡¯s brother or something, though he was much smaller and dark brown with tiger-like orange and white streaks in stark contrast to Shlushluth¡¯s brilliant white. Jan was chill, unlike the restless Shlushluth, and very much unlike the little Flitch, who was fast becoming Kate¡¯s favorite. Flitch could have fit inside a hula-hoop, wings and all, but she utilized her small size to her advantage by darting everywhere with a relentless hyperactivity. Her voice was a rapid squeak, and it seemed to Kate that she never stopped talking except when Kate herself spoke. ¡°I like the way you talk, K-k-kaitlyn!¡± Flitch proclaimed to the lab, a fluorescent orange-and-green streak along the refrigerators storing chemicals at cool temperatures. ¡°It¡¯s j-just K-kate,¡± she replied as she inspected the labels on the control panel of an unfamiliar boxy machine. It was some kind of scanner, and therefore not likely to be dangerous if she just started pushing buttons. But after another device-of-mysterious-design had jolted her with an electric shock that frizzed her hair everywhere, she had become cautious. However, she was also curious. And a contest between the curiosity and the caution of Kaitlyn Carter was really no contest at all. ¡°K-kate,¡± said Flitch in repetition. ¡°I like it! I like that name! And I like the way you talk, K-kate! W-we sh-should all t-talk like that!¡± Flitch giggled and came to rest on a polished stainless-steel table, flexing her wings excitedly. Kate bit her lip and grinned. ¡°Actually,¡± she said, ¡°most humans don¡¯t t-ta-t- don¡¯t talk like this. It¡¯s just m-me!¡± Kate narrowed her eyes and pushed the button that said ¡®scan.¡¯ Nothing happened. Or so it seemed¡­ ¡°That makes it even b-b-better!¡± declared Flitch. The butterfly picked herself up from the table and danced across the brightly lit room to where Thlytri and Shlushluth were observing a wall chart that had puzzled Kate. The chart looked like a periodic table in a circular pattern, and it also looked like the circle of 5 th s. She couldn¡¯t read it, and neither could the Theians. Another mystery! She had taken a picture of it and copied it into her notebook. ¡°Is it a defect of speech?¡± asked the watchful Jan, who of them all seemed most interested in the lab and the various uses to which it could be put. His voice, like all the voices of the males, was soft and feathery, muffled in comparison to the piercing voices of the females. Kate nodded at him as she placed a mirror on the flat topmost surface of the machine before her. Flitch had earlier found a box of small rectangular mirrors and deposited them at random across the breadth of the lab. ¡°Have you tried speaking exercises?¡± Jan asked. Kate grinned at him. ¡°F-for example, (ahem), ¡®t-top ch-chopst-tick ch-chops shtop chop t-t-chipst-top-¡± Flitch fluttered around her as they both dissolved into giggles. ¡°I want to try!¡± Flitch exclaimed. ¡°I do! I do!¡± Scratch paper was within easy reach (more useful scattered about a lab than mirrors, Kate supposed), so Kate took a piece, composed a pencil out of thin air, and scribbled down Isaac¡¯s chopstick tongue twister for Flitch. Flitch, to Kate¡¯s surprise, said the phrase easily, with clear articulation. Kate made a mental note to come up with a series of experiments to discover the verbal limitations of the Theians, and she hit the ¡®scan¡¯ button again. Mirrors. Like a gong, ringing out clear and bright in the emptiness of her mind: mirrors. In an instant, she understood. Of course. Mirrors! A white light flashed around the small rectangular mirror lying facedown on the scanning machine. It passed horizontally just like a copy-scanner, then the light rose up vertically and descended again. The machine hummed; lights blinked. A thin beam of energy sprang into brief and mysterious existence in-between a glass eye on the side of the machine and the hexagon hanging around Kate¡¯s neck. ¡°Wow!¡± said Flitch. ¡°Mirrors,¡± whispered Kate. ¡°What was that? What happened? Tell me K-kate!¡± Flitch fluttered this way and that around Kate¡¯s head, tugging lightly at her painted lab coat. Kate understood, somehow, without being told. She knew about mirrors now. She knew, more importantly, that she could create a mirror with her medallion and make it stick. She could make a mirror that would not fade when she stopped thinking about it. There was something important there, something deeper, something about how she could do this because she knew mirrors; something about the inverse relationship of knowing and transience. The idea of it moved like a cloud through her mind, and the shadow of it darkened her thoughts, but like a cloud it was beyond her, and it soon moved on without being grasped. She became aware that Flitch was talking at her. Nothing unusual there! ¡°I th-think¡­¡± said Kate, ¡°that¡¯s enough for t-to-today. I have to g- to go t-to S-s-skywater!¡± Kate had already prepared for this. She wore her lab coat, of course, but beneath she had on a sky-blue knee-length dress. (She¡¯d got the idea from Thlytri¡¯s blue wings.) She had made sure to comb her hair into submission, though she knew the wind would mess it up again the moment she stepped outside. Probably (almost certainly) Skywater City would be less windy, so she could comb it down again when she got there. She wore also some new sandals. She missed her old comfortable pair, but one of those had fallen down into the black abyss outside her palace. She wanted to look her best for her friends! With a touch of the medallion, she manifested a mirror, taller than her, right up against the wall of the lab. Mist poured out from her medallion and formed the shape, condensed into it, made it real. There it was! And there she was, no trace of a shattered-glass scar on her face. She pushed her big round glasses up her nose and spun around. The lab coat twirled awkwardly. The Theians crowded around to have a look. ¡°A mirror!¡± said Flitch. ¡°What else?¡± said Jan. ¡°It¡¯s us!¡± cried Flitch. ¡°Of course it¡¯s us,¡± said Thlytri. Kate was still no good at reading Theian expressions, but something in Thlytri¡¯s tone of voice made her think the blue-winged butterfly was smiling. Flitch landed on Kate¡¯s head like a huge crazy hat. She was surprisingly heavy! ¡°She¡¯s the Mirror God!¡± said Flitch, laughing and flapping her wings and making Kate¡¯s dark hair fly everywhere. The Theians spoke of the Thunder God all the time, but this was the first Kate had heard of a Mirror God. How strange! A god for mirrors? With Flitch still perched on her head, Kate seized her nearby bass and marched from the room. ¡°L-let¡¯s go!¡± The Theians followed her in vibrant procession out of the lab and down the corridor to the main hall, the colorful one with the columns and the sky-painted ceiling. The Theians loved this room since it was the biggest one in the palace, not to mention how beautifully it was painted. Several were here already, chasing each other as they weaved about the tall, elegant columns. They had been initially hesitant to take seriously Kate¡¯s open invitation to come whenever they wanted, but that hesitation had not lasted long. Theians, she had already noticed, had scant use for subtext. If she said something was okay, then that was that. Case closed! She had already been hugged by almost every Theian she knew. It was the new craze! The flying Theians paused their game when Kate and the others emerged. ¡°Where are you going?¡± called one of the men. ¡°Skywater,¡± answered Shlushluth. He didn¡¯t speak much, but he had the loudest voice of all the male Theians Kate had heard. Though hushed and feathery, it somehow still filled the big echoey space. Mention of Skywater got their attention. Two moths and a butterfly fluttered down and wordlessly joined Kate¡¯s entourage. Flitch began explaining to them all about Kate¡¯s lab as soon as they arrived, especially about Kate making a mirror. Probably, thought Kate, she should make some parts of her palace off-limits. Strings of rain glinted outside the big bright front door. This was not the drenching downpour of her first evening, but a soft, steady drizzle. The raindrops pattered at a 45-degree angle onto the colorful stones of the entrance and the slick arc of the bridge. Streams poured in angled waterfalls off of the rooftops and towers, the parapets and windmills behind her. Kate felt an impulse to turn around, climb back up one of the towers, and see for herself what all the turning windmills looked like in the rain. Surely they turned the precipitation into spiraling sprays of water, carried off into the sky by the rushing wind! Kate stood in the open doorway, flanked by seven of the most beautiful creatures she had ever seen, and breathed deeply of the rain-scented air, cool and thick. She smelled sweet grass and wet stone and mud. The storm itself had its own scent: huge and dark and aquiver with energy. It was all so exciting! She created a waterproof case for her bass, into which she slid her notebook and phone. Then she marched out into the rain. She knew the way to the Skywater door; one of the Theians had found it earlier and pointed it out to her. A trail cut through a meadow and up a cliffside to the door, which stood at a scenic overlook. Kate materialized a tall walking stick and set out across the bridge. She skipped a little (carefully!) with excitement. She was going to get to see everyone! Jim and Liz and hopefully even Heidi! Everything would be okay as long as they were together. The Theians got on the topic of the Thunder God as they followed Kate through the meadow, its green grass buckling in the wind, its blue and yellow pinwheel flowers twirling. The Thunder God, apparently, was the strongest of all the gods. Everyone agreed on that, but opinions differed on whether he was responsible for Theia¡¯s ever-stormy predicament. This made for a popular yet divisive topic of conversation. ¡°The gods are dead,¡± said Aron in the way that one might say ¡®water makes things wet.¡¯ Aron had been flying in the main hall; he had big fuzzy pads on his arms and extra-fluffy antennae to which the rain did not stick, and he was beautiful not because of any bright colors but because of the frantic complexity of the greyscale patterns on his wings. The wings were flat now; he crawled along the ground like all the Theians did when outside and not flying. The wind would blow them right away if they tried to stand up like Kate was doing! And even Kate got caught off-balance by the occasional stray gust that grabbed at her flapping lab coat. This was not, Kate thought to herself as she leaned her weight against the wind, a Jimothy-safe world. Thlytri piped her disagreement with Aron. ¡°They¡¯ve only been waiting!¡± ¡°The Changing God doesn¡¯t wait,¡± added Flitch as though eager to make her own contribution. ¡°No one ever proved they are dead,¡± said Shlushluth. ¡°We would know if they died, wouldn¡¯t we?¡± asked one of the new Theians Kate didn¡¯t know, a butterfly whose wings were transparent like dusty glass. ¡°How would we know?¡± asked Flitch. ¡°We wouldn¡¯t,¡± said Thlytri. ¡°I don¡¯t think there ever really were gods at all,¡± said Jan, softly as though in pre-emptive resignation. Sure enough, a general outcry met this blasphemy. Kate was content to listen to their good-natured and well-rehearsed squabble. She was content to be there, leading a squad of Lepidoptera through the rain in a pretty field under a stormy sky while colored lightning splintered the horizons. She wasn¡¯t worried anymore about being struck by lightning. That always happened elsewhere. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. They soon came to the path alongside the cliff. It was only a meter across, of slippery dark rock, and it dropped into the same black abyss as the moat around her palace. The wind slackened here, broken by the cliff. Kate hesitated where the grass ended and became the chasm on one side and the sheer slate rock on the other, and a narrow path between. Flitch hopped on ahead up the pass, then turned to face Kate. ¡°Are you afraid K-kate?¡± Kate shook her head so that her wet hair whipped around and adhered itself to her face. She struck out up the path as though fearless of the black drop to one side. She did wonder what was down there. Flitch zigged and zagged over the narrow path in front of Kate, frequently turning to shower Kate in questions and observations. ¡°Your coat looks like wings, K-kate!¡± (thanks!) ¡°What¡¯s that coming out of your head, K-kate?¡± (hair) ¡°Why?¡± (good question!) ¡°What do things look like with your eyes, K-kate?¡± (¡­singular?) ¡°Are all humans as big as you?¡± (some are bigger) ¡°Like who?¡± (like my father) ¡°Your father?!¡± She told them about Nicholas Carter, her dad. ¡°He was a g-g- a genius! He was g-good at everything he d-di-did.¡± Flitch asked a lot of questions about Nicholas Carter, and Kate did her best to answer them, even the odd ones like whether he looked like her and how much. (What color was he? How tall? Any wings? How much hair? Were his eyes like hers? His hands?) Thinking so much about her dad hit Kate unexpectedly hard as she trekked up the path. Because she knew the answer to every question Flitch asked. His eyes had been like hers, but kinder, wiser, bright and curious. She had loved those eyes. His hands had been strong but soft, his fingers long and deft¨Cable to play piano, to scratch fascinating strings of numbers and symbols in an elegant script, to cover her own hands over the reins of a horse as they rode. To hold her and wipe her tears, leaving faint smears of ink or chalk in their place. She had loved those hands. Her dad had possessed all the curiosity and adventurous bravery of Aunt Becky, his sister, but quite a lot more self-control and compassion. He should be the one getting to explore a new world, not her. He¡¯d be so good at it! He would know exactly what to do with all the machines in her lab. He¡¯d figure everything out lickety-split! She stopped answering Flitch¡¯s questions after a while, but the little butterfly didn¡¯t seem to notice; she just shifted from questions to observations that didn¡¯t require a response. Kate nearly slipped once, and her heart warmed to see her entire cadre of Theians nearly launch themselves from the cliffside, ready to fly to her aid. But in the end, with only minimal bumps and bruises, she emerged at the top. The entirety of her palace was visible from this vantage. She stood roughly at a level with the lowest towers, and maybe three kilometers distant. The sight gave her a shiver of excitement. That palace was hers. And it was so cool. But the path led on, over a small rise. She followed it and found the door only a hundred meters farther. The door stood in a small clearing of dirt carved into the side of a steep hill, and it was surely a scenic view. The landscape swept down from the door and off to the shadowy flickering line of the far horizon. Forests and fields, hills and valleys, lakes and streams, all spread out for miles and miles beneath a spectacular sea of roiling clouds. The distant skies were dark with storm, their colored lightning glinting, but the clouds near at hand piled up and up, impossibly high it seemed, in infinite variation of texture and shade, in countless spectacular shapes, all without ever revealing what lay beyond. It was like a tease, a hint or a promise of some blueness beyond, some light that illumined the clouds from somewhere above and behind, some light which was just barely never allowed to penetrate to the dim landscape below. The wind blew, the rain pattered softly on Kate¡¯s wet lab coat, the clouds above churned and roiled and grumbled with far-off thunder, their shapes mysteriously bright and fantastically wild. Kate laughed and hugged her bass. Should she play it? If she did, would the clouds turn in response? Yes they would, probably, but something else up there would be listening as well, something that didn¡¯t like her music interfering with the thunder. Storm worms. What did they look like? How big were they? Could one of them swallow up her whole palace in a single bite? And what awful music were they making that Kate could not perceive? Kate took hold of her medallion and held it before her, ready to touch it to the door and step through into another place. ¡°I want to go with you,¡± said a voice behind her. It was Shlushluth¡¯s distinctive voice. Thlytri clung to his arm and Flitch danced around Kate¡¯s legs. ¡°Me too!¡± proclaimed Flitch. ¡°I want to go! I do! I do!¡± ¡°Is it all acceptable?¡± asked Jan, head lowered in respect. ¡°Of c-course!¡± said Kate. ¡°Y-you can all c-come if you want! The m-more the m-me-m-merrier!¡± With this, she touched the door with the medallion. Light moved around the frame, and it was done. Kate flung the door open and stepped through onto a high place overlooking a sunny city. The Theians followed slowly, hesitantly, as though entranced. The sky, Kate realized. It was the sky that fascinated them. They all came: Jan and Thlytri and Shlushluth and Flitch and Aron and the other two whose names Kate did not know. Seven plus Navi, when Kate swung the door shut. As though the closing of the door was a cue, Kate¡¯s phone buzzed. She checked it and saw with excitement that Heidi had messaged her. She took a minute to reply while the Theians spread out to investigate this new place. HS: . KC: Heidi! KC: what is it? HS: i do not know HS: what is heidi KC: it¡¯s my friend! KC: ;) HS: it is me? KC: yup! HS: you are my friend? KC: Of course I am! HS: how would you describe me KC: um, okay! KC: I think you are capable KC: and loyal and reliable and caring HS: of what am i capable KC: of whatever you need to be! HS: killing for example KC: killing? HS: am i dangerous? KC: um...well I think so, but not to people you care about! HS: could i murder someone in cold blood? KC: Heidi! Why are you asking these things? KC: Are you okay? KC: <:( HS: answer the question HS: would i murder if i had to KC: no! HS: if i had to KC: I don¡¯t know!!! How would I know that, Heidi? KC: please talk to me! HS: forget that for now KC: I can¡¯t just forget that! HS: forget it HS: i have five allies yes? KC: yes KC: no! KC: more than five! KC: there is Alan Sheppard too, even if he isn¡¯t here! HS: who is that? KC: don¡¯t be like that! I¡¯m sure he¡¯s trying to do whatever he can KC: he loves you, Heidi! He really does HS: and is that all KC: you also have your angel! Eric told me a little about it HS: what did he tell you KC: he said it¡¯s a little scary but really strong, with really sharp teeth, and also kind of cute because it loves you too! HS: what does it look like? KC: ? HS: nevermind HS: it does not matter at the moment HS: are any of you watching me? KC: I don¡¯t think so... KC: I think someone would have said KC: we¡¯re pretty worried about you! HS: so you would not know if i was in danger KC: ARE YOU IN DANGER??!? HS: no HS: i am merely asking KC: you sound tired, Heidi! HS: yes i am tired HS: one more question KC: shoot! HS: not yet HS: my question is what does this six sided device with the symbols do KC: I think it just represents us KC: and it¡¯s like a key for certain things KC: and you can make objects with it by holding it and concentrating HS: it is not working KC: hmm! Maybe it works differently for each of us? HS: maybe KC: Heidi is something going on? HS: does not matter KC: it matters to me! KC: you can talk to me if anything is wrong, Heidi! I care about you. HS: interesting Chapter 33 Chapter 33 Heidi ¡°Do you want to go home?¡± asked Ruth. His voice was a consolidation of hundreds, maybe thousands, of rapid high-pitched clicking sounds. The sound grated on her ears like nails across a chalkboard, as though someone had intentionally designed the most unbearable voice. It was horrible to listen to. But Heidi liked Ruth. Twice her height, his gleaming insectile body curved backwards and up like a scorpion¡¯s tail, his many claws clicking and his fierce mandibles constantly chewing, Ruth was nevertheless the most human thing she had met on her moon. Heidi nodded in response to his question, knowing Ruth would detect the movement even though he watched the other direction. She took the opportunity to readjust her body armor. It fit her almost too well. It had evidently been fitted for her before she had even arrived at the prison. She didn¡¯t like that thought. ¡°We need you,¡± Ruth chattered back. Each of his words was like a multitude of cold skittering legs in her ears. Heidi suppressed the urge to cringe every time he spoke. She shrugged instead. It didn¡¯t look to her like any of them needed her for anything. She still had no clue what she was doing here. A prison, they said. But for whom? No one knew, or if they did, they had yet to tell her. She, who was supposedly the Warden. ¡°What about you?¡± she asked. ¡°Home.¡± Ruth chuckled, and this time Heidi could not avoid a shiver of revulsion at the sound. Her hands twitched; they wanted to cover her ears by reflex. ¡°This is my home now,¡± he said. Heidi¡¯s brows drew together at this. Ruth, like the rest of them, seemed to hate this place. Heidi raised the lantern as the blue gorilla returned. She had given up on his name; she swore it changed every time she heard it. He was now just ¡°the blue gorilla,¡± though this was hardly an adequate description. It did not account for his scales, his claws, his fangs, his extra arm. The lantern, a wire-mesh basket of glimmering pink crystals suspended by a leather strap, created only a weak circle of dim, flickering light. They all had headlights, but using them risked drawing in the rue. Their surroundings were not all dark; some clusters of lorn shards up ahead glowed like the lantern, revealing small sections of the hard, angular corridor. The blue gorilla adjusted easily as gravity shifted. In this enclosed space, no one could discern the reason for such shifts, nor predict their arrival. Maybe a huge lorn was drifting past, pulling this smaller cluster into its field. Maybe the corridor in which they stood was rotating. Maybe one of the frequent collisions that shuddered through the area indicated that it had been knocked off course. No one could say; they could only adapt. Heidi was already getting used to this. Sometimes she hardly noticed when gravity moved around her. With the gorilla returned, nodding his scaly head silently to indicate that the way he¡¯d scouted was clear, they moved off. The gorilla loped along smoothly on his five remaining limbs. Ruth slithered after him, two dozen legs tapping softly on the almost-metal surface. The creature called Fifteen by the others stalked after them by rolling its spherical body through the air, supported by many whiplike tendrils that flashed out to catch its perpetual fall. Heidi followed after them, feeling clumsy by comparison. Bahamut, her eight-legged serpentine shadow, moved silently behind her. Severard, the tall faceless mannequin-thing, its eerily thin and many-jointed body wrapped in layers of parchment, brought up the rear. It stooped low to trail after them, for its full height must have been eleven or twelve feet. Yet Heidi had seen it fold up to fit easily into a gap through which she herself could barely squeeze. The others didn¡¯t seem to like Severard, not that it mattered. Four freaks, and herself and Bahamut. Freaks yes, without a doubt, but she was comfortable around them. Perhaps they were all so far-off from being human, both physically and mentally, that she felt no pressure. She could be anything. She could be anything she wanted to, around them, and they would not judge her. There were expectations; she was, after all, their leader. Or so they said. But the strange sense of freedom stirring within her could not be quelled. They turned down another angular corridor, then traversed a wide pit of razor-sharp spines the size of palm trees. Heidi floated across by manipulating gravity, but all the others demonstrated an ability to get across just fine on their own. Despite her strange gravitational powers, she was still the weak link in this squad. They delved down, deeper into the Metal Moon. Things narrowed as they went. Distances shrank. It became darker, the air colder, the spaces claustrophobic. More rue prowled here; they cried out periodically in the distance. Every wail of the rue was an icy knife caressing her heart. Heidi¡¯s team stopped to investigate any remains they came across. The first was a set of long-dead corpses, desiccated nearly to dust, any useful valuables long since taken. Bale thorn grew on their bones, dangerous to touch. The sight of the bodies shook Heidi, though not as much as it would have if any of the bodies had been recognizably human. It reminded her of their raid on the Darkworlders the day before. Or had it been just a day? There was no way of knowing for sure. It felt like a week. But she didn¡¯t like to think about that. She had killed someone, or something, and she didn¡¯t want to think about it. She wanted to act, not think. Stick to what she was good at. The second remnant they found was a crashed vessel of some kind, its charred wood and scarred metal wounded and twisted in among a tangle of lorn shards. It was more recent, though there was no sign of either bodies or survivors. It looked oddly like a large sailing ship to Heidi. At least, it had something like a sail¨Ca metallic sheet which now draped over the wreckage. And why was it partially wood? Where had it come from? Such questions flitted briefly through her mind and were at once dismissed as irrelevant. There was too much strangeness here to be concerned about every detail. She needed to focus on what mattered. She needed to emulate Ruth, Fifteen, Severard, and the gorilla. Out here in what they called the Depths, she needed to focus on survival. Don¡¯t ask why, that was the rule. Do or die. Act. They just did what they had to, and that was all. No, they also did whatever she told them to, though she had yet to take advantage of this loyalty. She had never been in command before. She felt entirely unprepared. Besides which, it was simply idiotic that she, somehow, was in charge here. Fortunately, her guards knew what to do without her telling them. They scavenged the ship. Ruth discovered a stockpile of stored food in rectangular cans. It was a thick brown soup, and to Heidi¡¯s delight it was very spicy, with a strong fishy taste. They ate together inside the groaning wreckage of the ship. Severard kept watch outside, presumably because it didn¡¯t eat. How could it, without a face? She watched the others curiously to see how they handled eating the soup. The gorilla ate by slurping down the soup as though the brick-sized tins were spoonfuls. It was he that cracked the cans open for the rest of them, his fearsome strength easily able to pry back the tough metal lids. Ruth¡¯s consumption of the soup was frightful to behold, and Heidi had to look away when it occurred to her that it looked like Ruth was chewing up bloody gore. Only Fifteen ate neatly. The creature extended several thin proboscises into an open can. It didn¡¯t look to Heidi as though much food was actually consumed, yet at the end there was nothing left in Fifteen¡¯s can. It was, in fact, perfectly clean. Heidi finished first, scarfing down the fishy soup. The intensity of the spice made her wipe tears from her eyes. Ruth paused in the midst of his grisly evisceration of his soup can and turned his multi-faceted gaze upon her. Each of the many facets glinted with a purple reflection of the lantern. His mandibles worked, clicking and sawing. Heidi had to put a hand to her mouth and look away from that unsettling sight. Words coalesced from the manifold chittering of his voice: ¡°¡­something amiss, Warden?¡± The gorilla grunted, his gleaming golden eyes flashing at her from the darkness. ¡°Tears,¡± he said, his voice a wet rumble. ¡°Sorrow.¡± Ruth nodded in understanding, then extended himself toward Heidi in what was probably a show of concern, though the sight of such a creature approaching in such a way awakened a primal dread in her guts. ¡°No,¡± she said. Her voice sounded plain and small compared to theirs. ¡°It¡¯s just the soup. It¡¯s hot.¡± All three of them stopped and scrutinized their cans of soup. Their visible confusion made Heidi smile. Even Fifteen reacted, which constituted the first proof Heidi had seen that Fifteen could actually understand her. ¡°I mean, it¡¯s spicy,¡± she clarified. The gorilla grumbled something in a language Heidi did not know. Ruth made a rattling, sighing noise (of understanding?) and turned back to his food. Heidi wrapped her coat tightly around herself as she watched them. As the heat of the rich paste faded, the chill returned. It was cooling as they descended; she should have put on another layer under the armor. None of her companions seemed bothered by the cold. She watched as Fifteen finished its soup, then rolled through the air to Ruth and began climbing all over the monstrosity. Fifteen¡¯s tiny supporting filaments darted and whipped through the air. Ruth mostly ignored Fifteen, but intermittently swatted at the much smaller creature with his formidable claws. Twice he made contact, and the black mass of Fifteen tumbled through the air to softly strike a wall before rolling back onto Ruth. Heidi watched this interaction closely in an attempt to understand it. Were they playing a game? Having some contest? Was Fifteen annoying Ruth like a younger sibling? Or were they fighting? Heidi had no idea; she knew so little. Whatever it was, they did it silently, and it did not interrupt Ruth¡¯s meal. Everyone searched the rest of the crashed vessel after they ate. Parts of the ship were locked off. Instead of cutting through with lasers, which would risk attracting the rue, the gorilla simply broke down the doors. His strength was something terrific. Heidi watched in awe as he punched a clawed hand through an inch of corrugated metal barring them from the lower levels and then peeled it back the way that Heidi might rip up thick cardboard. This creature had torn apart Darkworlders, though she didn¡¯t enjoy that memory. This had attacked her when she first met it. And this is what Bahamut had literally disarmed. She wondered whether Bahamut had just gotten lucky in that fight, or had simply been too quick. Anyway, Heidi felt bad about that arm now. But as always, as with everything, the gorilla just didn¡¯t seem to care. No fucks to give. None at all. Something odd happened while Heidi investigated a disorderly cabin near the hold. Papery curtains hung throughout the room, and one of them caught fire while Heidi pushed through them, gun-first. It flared abruptly into a bloom of lurid flame. She fell backwards with a yelp of surprise. The room went from dimly-lit by her lantern to glaring brightness in an instant. Heidi rolled to her feet and aimed frantically with her weapon, seeking the source of the fire. She saw nothing; the room was too small to hide another person. Bahamut appeared, coiled between her and the fire, risen up like a giant cobra with deadly claws. He hissed at the flames. The fire went out as swiftly and unexpectedly as it had come while Heidi backed to the door. It had consumed only a small part of the curtain. A slithering, skittering rush of clicking legs and glistening carapace. Ruth was there, his strange body arched and ready just as Bahamut¡¯s had been, though several times as fearful. Ruth towered protectively over Heidi as she stood in the doorframe, and he peered into the smoky room. ¡°What happened?¡± he asked. ¡°Fire,¡± she said. ¡°It came suddenly, then stopped.¡± ¡°The Script?¡± he cried, alarm evident in his hideous voice. Claws closed around Heidi¡¯s limbs and drew her back into the hallway with irresistible force. He spoke urgently. ¡°Was it purple?¡± He sounded afraid, and he still interposed himself between her and the empty room as though it might contain a bomb. ¡°Um. No?¡± It had not been violet. ¡°Just normal fire. Well¡­¡± Ruth sighed (clicking, rasping) in relief, and he leaned forward to peer into the smoky room. look, came a faint whisper. the curtain. Nearby, Heidi perceived the vague blackness of Fifteen¡¯s body. She still could not tell what kind of creature Fifteen was, or even what it felt like. If she touched Fifteen, would it be fuzzy? Hard and scaly like Bahamut? Would she get a handful of tiny quills? Would she¡­not touch anything at all? She didn¡¯t know, and the curiosity passed in an instant. It didn¡¯t really matter. It mattered that Fifteen could talk, though. That was new. She heeded Fifteen¡¯s words and investigated the burned curtain. She stepped through the smoke and held up her glowing pink lantern for a better look. The fire had burned a strange angular symbol into the curtain. It was about the size of Fifteen, sea-turtle-sized, but beyond that¡­ ¡°What does it mean, Warden?¡± Ruth chittered. She reached out and touched the symbol. It looked too irregular to be a pattern, too complicated to be a letter. Maybe it was a word in some language. Fifteen whispered something behind her, but it was too quiet to make out. ¡°It¡¯s not the Script,¡± replied the deep, grating voice of the gorilla. Heidi nearly jumped. He was so big, so why did she never hear him coming? ¡°We are safe. The Burning God, looks like.¡± ¡°Yes, the Bloody Serpent,¡± agreed Ruth. ¡°Can you read it, friend?¡± The gorilla, who apparently had a gift for linguistics, could not. Heidi raised her phone automatically to take a picture, but hesitated. Should she risk it? ¡°Do it,¡± said the gorilla. ¡°It might matter.¡± ¡°Might?¡± said Ruth. ¡°If it is from a god, it matters.¡± The gorilla¡¯s disdainful grunt showed what he thought of that idea. Fifteen said something, but Heidi could not hear it. Ruth nodded, and the gorilla grunted again. Even Alan did not have such expressive grunts. Heidi thought that the gorilla could hold an entire conversation without speaking a word. And had Fifteen been speaking this whole time, but Heidi just hadn¡¯t heard it? She guessed her ear had to be nearly touching the creature for her to discern its speech. She took a picture and used the flash to make sure she got a good one. They waited a bit longer. After all, there was still a lot of free curtain-space in there if the Burning God was interested in continuing to communicate. But nothing happened. They continued through the ship. Heidi descended with Ruth to the hold. ¡°I didn¡¯t know there were gods,¡± she said as they picked through the mess of broken debris for anything useful. Heidi didn¡¯t know what she was looking for, and merely trusted that she would know something useful when she saw it. ¡°There are,¡± said Ruth. ¡°Or were, according to some.¡± ¡°What¡­¡± Heidi wondered what it was she wanted to ask. ¡°What¡­do they do?¡± That was probably not the best way of phrasing it, but if she waited around to think of non-stupid ways of saying things, then she¡¯d never speak. ¡°Nothing,¡± said the bone-rumbling voice of the gorilla, nearby. This time Heidi did jump, and more embarrassing, squeaked in alarm at the sudden sound. God-dammit, how did he do that? ¡°Waste no thought on their like,¡± the gorilla continued. ¡°Well¡­what about this Burning God?¡± she asked. ¡°Clearly¡­um, he just¡­I can¡¯t just ignore that, right?¡± ¡°The Serpent is strong,¡± said Ruth. ¡°Passionate.¡± a fool ¡°A destroyer,¡± said the gorilla, ¡°of friend and enemy alike, as much by arrogance as by her blade. Spare no thought, Warden. You are better without her words. Ah¡­here.¡± Heidi turned to look at the gorilla as he pulled something from the wreckage. ¡°The gods matter, Cshlatksht,¡± Ruth said. ¡°They have a role to play yet.¡± ¡°With luck, that role will be to perish in the Void, Ch-grean,¡± the gorilla replied. ¡®Ch-grean¡¯ was what the gorilla called Ruth. Heidi did not know if this was the name of Ruth¡¯s race, a title, a term of familiarity, or possibly an insult. It could have been any of those. The only thing Heidi was sure of between those two was that the gorilla gave the orders. The gorilla heaved up a chunk of metal from among the debris. It was a flat, smooth, oblong strip of steely metal. Stood on end, it was a bit taller and wider than Heidi, though parts of the edges were jagged and torn, marring its shape. The gorilla held it out flat and let go. The metal remained in the air and slid gently to one side with the subtle shifting of gravity. ¡°Noqual,¡± said Ruth. ¡°The Bleak Machine is built of it.¡± Ruth reached out with a sinister claw and tapped the metal. It rang lightly at his touch and spun like the compass of a needle, but remained level. Heidi realized what it reminded her of: a surfboard, floating on the waves. ¡°This is useful,¡± said the gorilla. ¡°Especially for you, Warden.¡± Heidi nodded. She reached out and laid a hand upon the grainy grey surface of the cold metal. It quivered, slightly vibrating. Something crashed at the other end of the hold. Everyone reacted in a flash: the gorilla raised up a large piece of scrap metal for shielding; Ruth placed himself between Heidi and the noise; Fifteen remained unseen in the darkness. Heidi crouched and aimed her weapon, the one that shot crystals suitable for harming the rue. It was Bahamut, and the crash came from him dislodging broken crates that had piled up against the wall near an exit door. He had found something written on the wall. The others gathered around to have a look as Bahamut cleared away the rest of the debris. Four lines of text had been scrawled near the hatch, hastily smeared with some thick black substance that smelled like motor oil. Heidi cautiously reached out to touch it. It did seem like motor oil. Thick and black. Knowing the Metal Moon, it was probably something¡¯s blood. The text read: go back go back he¡¯s coming Abraham Black Heidi knew about Abraham Black. She recalled, with an uncanny perfection of memory, being there when Black had killed Alan. It had only been a dream, or some kind of vision, yet the experience remained clear and real in her memory. She herself had been partially shot, and the wound on her side was still tender. Fifteen had drifted close to the words and appeared to be testing them as Heidi had done, when without warning they caught fire. Not all at once; the bottom right corner, the ¡®A¡¯ in ¡®Abraham,¡¯ caught first. Since it was the lowest letter in the set, its flames spread as they grew to the adjacent letters. The oily substance burned weakly, the flames dull and red, yet they eventually consumed the entire message. Dim though the fire was, it did not decrease the dramatic effect of burning words on the wall. ¡°Is this,¡± asked Heidi, ¡°also the Burning God?¡± Ruth skittered forward and tapped the wall right through the flames, his chitinous claw unharmed by the weak fire. ¡°I do not understand,¡± he said, ¡°but I believe so.¡± His words, calm and sensible, were at odds with the horrific sound of his voice. The gorilla grunted. ¡°Is the Bloody Serpent in the habit of scrawling warnings on walls, godseeker?¡± ¡®Godseeker¡¯ must have been an insult, or perhaps a challenge, because Ruth became very still at the word; even his ever-chewing mandibles stopped. ¡°I know this Abraham Black,¡± the gorilla continued. Fifteen said something. Heidi, though listening carefully, only caught the words ¡° the Darkworld? ¡± The gorilla nodded his scaly, crested head. ¡°A feared man.¡± ¡°I do not understand,¡± Ruth repeated to himself, bowing his head down until it nearly came level to Heidi¡¯s. ¡°I know Black too,¡± said Heidi. They all looked at her: the fierce golden eyes of the gorilla and shiny multifaceted eyes of Ruth, and the eyeless yet still heavy gazes of Bahamut and Fifteen. It occurred to Heidi that if she from a few days ago was suddenly here, with these creatures peering intently at her in just such a way, she would be terrified. They were all monsters. Had she forgotten? Had she already gotten used to it? ¡°I saw him¡­¡± she continued. She had more than just seen him. She had experienced his presence in a way that gave her nightmares. ¡°If he was here, there would be bodies. Bullet holes. He uses guns.¡± She looked at her own gun, a weapon that shot crystals. Her actual gun was still with her, in her backpack, its ammunition low. She had three knives now, because you could never have too many. Her greatest weapon and surest defense by far, however, crawled silently alongside her on eight deadly clawed legs. None of the monsters with her carried any weapons that she saw, except for a small wire-covered cannon strapped to the gorilla¡¯s back that she had yet to see him use. The gorilla grunted. This may have been a command, because Ruth and Fifteen headed back up to the top deck. Heidi followed while tugging the ragged shape of floating metal behind her. It came easily, sliding through the air like¡­well, like a surfboard across water. The gravitational tides made it pitch and roll as they went. Near the upper deck they met Severard. He had folded himself up into a Heidi-sized packet that picked carefully through the corridors on spindly many-folding arms and legs. Each of his pale spidery fingers was longer than her forearm. Ink stained those fingers, and Heidi saw for the first time that Severard had drawn eyes of all shapes and sized onto the parchment which wrapped his entire body like a mummy. She saw half a dozen eyes, some on his elbows, a couple on his body, and one on his blank face¨Cthis one centered but sideways. He was actually seeing with them; he moved so that the drawn eyes looked all around. Severard pointed a crooked, spindly finger at something behind Heidi. Bahamut hissed. Somewhere above, Ruth made a furious, and curiously piercing, screeching sound. Another sound drowned out all others: a deep rumbling cry. If the keening of an enormous whale, deep and resonant, had been distorted with audio editing software such as Eric had shown her, until the sound was twisted and tortured into an almost-human wail of sorrow, that was this sound. It petrified her; it shook her through. She could not move. It wouldn¡¯t have mattered. ¡­AFRAID¡­ Everything shook. The battered, broken craft groaned, splintered, shattered. Something altered gravity with a suddenness and violence far beyond Heidi¡¯s abilities. She just had time to be surprised that something other than her was changing ¡°down¡± before the panic of falling overtook her. Metal, wood, canvas and paper, bolts and splinters and bits of broken lorn shards, all of it swirled around her, filled her vision. ¡°Down¡± changed again, turning her fall into a swinging curve. The sound of the great lorn shards crashing and chiming thundered so loud that she clapped her hands over her ears. She felt them colliding, cracking, breaking, shattering. It sounded awful, the very essence of discord. Plummeting into darkness, not knowing where she went, not able to see, not even able to tell whether she was crying out in the chaos, she reached blindly and tried to negate her fall, to make a compass. It was futile. She lacked the control. Lorn shards loomed like mountains in the distance, their deep purple and blue and black sides as smooth as glass, hard as metal, vast as plains, marked with forests of metal, fractured chasms, hard edges. Beyond glittered lights¨Cnot stars, but tiny specks of glowing bale-thorn, the kind that grew on dead bodies and remained even after the bodies had vanished to dust. They made their own pinkish galaxies in the distance. Gravity shifted again, this time naturally, as she fell into the oddly-shaped gravity well of another shard. Her course arced, her vision twisted. Somewhere, something burned. Somewhere, something screamed. Maybe it was her. She saw a great darkness, not the darkness of shadow but the essence of darkness itself. It was a rue, far away now yet clearly visible, outlined in fire, the remains of the strange sailing ship crunched apart in its fathomless jaws. It was big, far too big, and a golden eye glared at her across the kilometers now separating them. That eye was a color that Heidi knew: the sickly golden-orange of the Bleak Machine. And the rue, like Bahamut, did not have eyes. Yet she saw, looking into the glimmering gold there in the deepest darkness, a passionless threat. Had she been there, instead of far away across a sea of open space now littered with debris, she would be dead. Bahamut or no Bahamut, gorilla or no gorilla, Ruth or no Ruth, she would be pierced to nothing in that blackness. It hated her; its hate slithered under her skin and trembled in her fragile bones. She landed slantways on something, slammed into it on her side. A lungful of air left her in a pained gasp. She wondered whether she had just dislocated her shoulder, then spun through the air for a full second or two before landing again. Momentum and the angle caused her to skid along the slick surface. She tried desperately to catch her breath, to see what lay ahead. She didn¡¯t want to die impaled on a random spike. Where was Bahamut? She saw the glowing crystals only a moment before they tore into her right calf. The bale thorns, the ones you weren¡¯t supposed to touch, smoldered with pinkish-purple energy. The pain shot up her leg and into her chest. She still couldn¡¯t breathe. Everything went empty grey: her vision, her hearing, her smell. All calm. All silent. He had earned every moment of his pain. Adrift on a dark sea, afraid and alone in a tiny vessel, dying, he sobbed. His tears trickled into his blood. He had betrayed his sister, the Countess of Ulreach, for a love that proved false. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. He had manipulated his best friend, thinking himself a great tactician, yet his pride had gotten that friend killed. He had murdered his own brother in an attempt to undo what he had done. An evil man, his brother? Yes, some said. Yet it had been in vain. How had this happened? A simple lie, a single moment of arrogance, a rash decision. Perhaps, one lustful thought. But how? How could something so small become something so great? At what point could he have no longer stopped the terrible cascade of events? At any point, he whispered to himself. You were never in control, but you could have ended it at any time. But how? By telling the truth at last? He was too much of a coward for that, and too much of a coward to kill himself. And how many had paid for his cowardice? How many paid still? The city crumbled, aflame. He wished for nothing more than a chance to change it, to change everything. He would have given anything, anything at all, to go back. To undo what had been done. But there was none of that. No redemption for him, no succor, no spark of aid or light of hope. He did not deserve them, and he understood that for once the gods had given what a man deserved. He sobbed in the bottom of his boat, pitiless stars above and equally cold waters below. It hurt. It hurt so much. He couldn¡¯t tell the difference anymore between the pain of the wound in his chest killing him and the pain of guilt. Both pains consumed him; turned him into an empty shell. He desired only an end; he wanted that darkness, the relief, the respite. Yet it did not come, and all he had done played in his mind over and over again, relentlessly, tormenting him. He wanted to go back. He wanted it to stop. He wanted another chance. He wanted it to end. He was sorry. He wanted to tell them he was sorry. He wanted to tell everyone. But there was no one to tell, not anymore, and even if they lived, they weren¡¯t here to watch him die. No one would ever know, nor care. Around and around, again and again. It seemed interminable. It did not stop, nor did it end. Why didn¡¯t it end? He wept, and each sob wracking him with pain, each a reminder. Heidi shivered and sobbed onto the cold floor. So cold. So cold out here on the dark sea. Dying¡­? The tides of gravity tugged at her, both like and unlike the rocking of waves at sea. Wait. Where was she? Who was she? Wait. ¡°Lookth like it wath a nathty one,¡± said a voice. Heidi reached up a trembling hand and wiped tears and snot from her face. She opened her eyes and saw only meaningless angular shapes the colors of tar and blood and coral. She was lying on her side on one of the shapes. It was hard and cold. She was not at sea, not dying cold and alone after having betrayed everyone, lost everything. She was cold, though. ¡°Heidi,¡± she breathed as she wrapped her coat tight around herself and shivered into it. ¡°Sheppard. Csezlaw. Chess-waffle.¡± She feared the image of a stack of waffles playing chess would never disassociate from her name now. But she was in no mood to smile about that. She hurt everywhere. She couldn¡¯t see. What had happened? She had been someone else. It had been awful. ¡°Ith that your name?¡± asked the voice. It was a girlish voice, but something was off about it. She sounded unconcerned, yet there was a harsh edge to her words. She was tense. ¡°Tho she wathn¡¯t lying.¡± Heidi, not yet sure whether she could stand, rolled herself over to face the speaker, grimacing at the pain in her side. Just a bruise, she thought, but it was right on top of the gunshot wound. Her calf burned brightly with pain, but Heidi could tell that it was little more than a flesh wound. Blood still leaked from the gashes there, but slowly. The girl who had spoken was only visible as a black mound huddled beside a pile of the glowing thorn as though it were a campfire. Something else moved in the darkness behind the shadowy figure. That creature was as big as a horse, with a feathery wing, a long serpentine tail, and a half-dozen small dark shapes drifting in the gloom. ¡°What¡­happened?¡± Her voice cracked, both from dryness and from crying. Heidi pushed herself to a sitting position and resumed her efforts to make herself presentable by wiping away the tears and buttoning her coat over the body armor. Maybe, she thought, the body armor could be made a little more¡­thorough. The small huddle by the fire reached out a gnarled, knotted hand and gestured at the glowing pile of bale thorns beside it. ¡°You mutht have touched a memory. Thethe are regretth. Thorrowth. Painth. They fethter here. Ath I thay, it lookth like it wath a thtrong one. Too bad you didn¡¯t bring any with you. I would have liked to try it.¡± Her lisp and her way of speaking were at-odds with her youthful voice. The figure turned toward the glow, and a mouthful of crooked teeth glinted along with the dark gleam of an eye from under the hood. Heidi shuddered involuntarily just thinking about the experience. It had been so horrible. Such sorrow. She now felt the same mingled relief and horror she did when waking from a terrible, terrible dream. The despair lingered. ¡°You are thirthty,¡± said the huddled creature across the glowing thorn. ¡°Here.¡± She reached for a lidded mug at her side without taking her eye off of Heidi. She shuffled over the ground, her movements painfully awkward. The figure offered the ceramic mug when it came close. Steam curled up in the darkness, lit pink by the thorn-fire. Something hot, thank god. The mysterious figure¡¯s gnarled hand trembled, and Heidi took the cup with an equally shaky grasp. The stranger¡¯s hand snapped back as soon as Heidi held the mug, as though fearful that their fingers touch. She shuffled clumsily to where she had been sitting. She nearly fell, and beat savagely at her own body with a small fist before collapsing with a clatter. The drink was hot and sweet, with a spicy undertone. Heidi gulped it down without hesitation, holding the clay mug close as though to leach out all the warmth she could. Her trembling slowed, the urge to weep lessened, and even the pain in her abdominal muscles from keeping her sitting upright faded. ¡°Thank you,¡± she said. ¡°Not very cauthiouth, are we?¡± the stranger asked. ¡°That kind of carelethneth will get you killed here. Well. It already hath, I thuppothe.¡± The figure reached carefully into its robes. The way she moved made Heidi wonder if she was badly injured. It made Heidi wonder, in view of the ominous statement she had just uttered, whether Heidi could take her in a fight, even in Heidi¡¯s current condition. Heidi tensed when the girl revealed a small dark object, but it was only a pipe. The girl put it to her shadowed mouth, and thin lines of dark smoke trickled up into the greater darkness around them. The scent reached Heidi: sharp, acrid, pungent. A battery-acid smell. ¡°What is your name?¡± Heidi asked, trying to figure out whether she had any of her weapons. It didn¡¯t feel like it. She had very little with her. She couldn¡¯t even find her phone. ¡°My name ith Vyricth. And thith ith Cathie,¡± she gestured with the pipe at the larger pale figure, watchful and silent in the darkness beyond. ¡°I¡¯m Heidi.¡± She tried to sound friendly and non-threatening. ¡°I know who you are, child of gravity. Heidi Theppard Cheth-waffle.¡± She put the pipe back to her unseen mouth, and with her other hand held something up to the dim light, something pale and bright. Heidi started, and with a fumbling hand checked for the hexagonal pendant around her neck. It was gone. ¡°That¡¯s mine,¡± she said, trying to stay calm. ¡°Wath.¡± Heidi struggled to her feet, fighting the pain. ¡°Thorry, but you¡¯ll thtay right there.¡± Heidi¡¯s feet clapped together, and before she hit the ground her wrists met painfully behind her back. She grunted when she fell upon the hard surface. Her shoulder¨Cbut what was one more bruise? At least it wasn¡¯t the shoulder that might be dislocated. At least she was spreading the injuries around. Heidi struggled against whatever force bound her, but all her strength only served to hurt her wrists. She growled and glared at the figure by the fire. Vyricth. Or was it Vyrix, because of the lisp? ¡°We¡¯ll have none of that, now,¡± the girl continued. Her ugly hand reached down beside her and showed Heidi a crooked metal blade. Cold fear washed over Heidi, and she stilled at once. The figure turned the blade to make sure Heidi saw the pink light glinting off of it. ¡°I exthpect a good prithe for you,¡± she said. ¡°It would be a thame to have to thtab you.¡± Price? Shit. ¡°What do you want?¡± asked Heidi. And where is Bahamut? ¡°Your little friend can¡¯t find you here,¡± said the girl. Heidi paused in her struggling. Could this Vyrix read her thoughts? ¡°Only a little. Not the thubtle oneth. But you don¡¯t theem to have many of thothe.¡± Again Heidi saw the shine of a mouthful of crooked teeth. ¡°What are you?¡± asked Heidi. She had to keep Vyrix talking. Wait, the girl would know she was thinking that! Damn it! Vyrix chuckled. ¡°It¡¯th no matter. I can anthwer your quethtionth.¡± She leaned closer. ¡°I don¡¯t mind.¡± She reached up a hand and pulled back her hood. The thorn-fire glowed brighter with light. Vyrix was horribly ugly, the more so for being so nearly human. Scattered growths of cracked black stone like volcanic pumice marred her dark brown skin. Her misshapen hand was entirely made of pieced-together chunks of this black rock. Her broad gash of a mouth held only half her teeth, and those crooked few that remained were nearly as darkly stained. Only one of her dark eyes peeked out through the coral-like protrusions, and it gleamed with a pinkish light. Her hair tangled down around her in clumpy, uneven braids that twitched of their own accord. Yet were it not for all this, she would have looked like a young black girl, the kind you might see on Earth. Heidi could not look for long at that leering grin, and Vyrix let out a hacking cough of triumph when Heidi turned her eyes away. ¡°Yeth, that¡¯th it. Turn away. Join the rankth. I¡¯m only a curthed witch.¡± She pulled the hood back over her face and Heidi let out a breath she hadn¡¯t realized she¡¯d been holding. ¡°What¡­are you going to do?¡± Heidi tried again to pull at the invisible bonds which held her, but to no avail. She was helpless here, alone with a madwoman armed with a knife. ¡°I won¡¯t kill you. The Dark World can handle that well enough, I think. They want you, you and your friendth. I will give them you, and in ecthchange get thomething I want. Bathic economicth, yeth?¡± The Dark World? Heidi felt a chill wash over her. She didn¡¯t want to go there. She couldn¡¯t. The creature that Vyrix had called Cazzie suddenly moved. A wing flapped, claws scraped, a tail slithered. It whistled a soft, weird warble that vibrated in Heidi¡¯s teeth. One of the objects drifting in the air around it came into the light and approached Vyrix. Heidi saw with mild shock that it was an eye. An eyeball the size of a golf ball, dry and veiny, floating through the air. It turned to look at Heidi as it passed near the light and into Vyrix¡¯s hood. A moment later, two eyes glinted out at Heidi from the witch¡¯s shadowed face. ¡°They are near,¡± said Vyrix. She put away her pipe and Heidi¡¯s pendant, and gripped the crooked knife. She now seemed on-guard. They waited in silence. Heidi desperately tried to think of what she could do. Surely there was a way out of this situation; she just had to find it. She couldn¡¯t move, she had no allies¡­ Oh. Right, of course. Stupid! Stupid, stupid¡­ ¡°Thtop that,¡± said Vyrix. ¡°What are you thinking of?¡± Vyrix didn¡¯t know. ¡°What don¡¯t I know?¡± the witch demanded. Don¡¯t think about it. Think about thinking about it instead. Think about not thinking about it. Think about anything but the thing you¡¯re thinking about. Think about thinking. ¡°I thaid thtop! If you try thomething clever, you¡¯ll get uth both killed.¡± ¡°Are you the one?¡± said a deep, masculine voice. It crackled as it came through an audio channel and made them both jump in surprise. A new figure stood just beyond the light, visible due to a single glowing red beacon at head height. He took a step forward into the light, revealing a tall, muscular body in heavy high-tech armor. He carried some kind of energy weapon in both hands, pointed casually down. More footsteps and lights behind him told of several more. Heidi knew what these were. They were Darkworlders. She had fought them earlier, and had even killed one. If the guilt from doing so was still on its way, it was taking its time. Vyrix composed herself quickly. ¡°Yeth,¡± she said. ¡°I thent for you.¡± ¡°This is the one, then?¡± The armored figure gestured with the gun at Heidi. A random alteration in gravity made them all lean aside, like they were part of a choreographed dance routine, which in her panic struck Heidi as absurd and hilarious. Vyrix still sat facing Heidi, her back to the newcomers. Vyrix coughed. It might have been a laugh. ¡°Thtop it,¡± she snarled softly at Heidi. Then she turned to the Darkworlders. ¡°It¡¯th her. Where¡¯th my pay?¡± ¡°Pay?¡± said the man, sounding genuinely confused. Vyrix leaped to her feet, and would have stumbled right back down to the ground had not her knobbly cane flown to her hand and planted itself in the metallic surface so hard that chips flew. Yet she fearlessly flashed the dagger at the man several times her size. ¡°The curthe,¡± she snarled. ¡°We made an agreement. I am owed for thith.¡± ¡°Black is coming,¡± the man said, undaunted by the small crippled girl waving a knife at him. ¡°Take it up with him.¡± Vyrix froze in place. ¡°Black? Abraham Black?¡± The armored man shifted uncomfortably. ¡°Who else? He wanted to deal with this personally. We¡¯re just here to¨C¡± Heidi made a sphere and flung gravity up and away into the darkness. Better anywhere else than wherever Black was going to be. She left Vyrix and the Darkworlders behind as she dropped up into the sky. She could move again; the invisible bonds vanished. Her legs and arms flailed as she fought to stabilize herself. What next? It was dangerous to fall where she couldn¡¯t see, and she saw nothing but darkness in the direction that she had made ¡®down.¡¯ Gunshots sounded above her, accompanied by the crackling hiss of energy weapons. Heidi¡¯s blood ran cold. Was it Black? No¨CBlack¡¯s gunshots sounded like thunder. These sounded like her own weapon. But she made herself small anyway. No sense in being a larger target. The Darkworlders shouted and cried out, and their weapons roared, but another sound emerged and superseded all else: Vyrix¡¯s voice, like a distant echo, croaking out harsh words that made Heidi¡¯s hair stand on end. Her gravity vanished; the darkness swirled; men screamed. Heidi barked a cry of alarm as her fall slowed, halted, and then reversed itself back to where it had originated. She tried to alter gravity, but could not. She fell, accelerating back to the cold metal, trying to think clearly: what next? She had no way of arresting her fall. A winged shadow swept toward her from below with a reptilian squawk. It caught her gently with soft padded feet, scaly and flattened like a gecko¡¯s. It lowered Heidi back down to a scene of chaos. Three agents of the Dark World lay sprawled out around the glowing thorn-fire, the small shape of Vyrix among them. Cazzie deposited Heidi softly onto the ground, and then softly pinned her down with a weight that Heidi could not resist. Heidi bit her lip to keep from crying out at the stabs of pain that snapped throughout her body at this treatment. The creature pinned her arms at her sides, but Heidi wriggled into a position to get a better look at what was going on. Vyrix hissed harshly, then spat on one of the fallen Darkworlders. Her hood had fallen back again, and Heidi could not help but turn her gaze away from that ruined face. Vyrix held a gun, Heidi¡¯s gun. She dropped it. Her cane flew back into her hand, and with it she limped over to Heidi. ¡°You,¡± Vyrix snarled as she approached. ¡°I¡­I warned you. Look at thith. Thit! Thit, thit, thit!¡± She struck out with her cane at each exclamation, cracking the glowing thorns, shattering the clay mug she had handed to Heidi, beating the corpse of one of the Darkworlders. Her tantrum ended when she lost balance and crumpled to the ground, growling in pain. Rock clicked against solid metal as Vyrix fell. A long, scaly tail slid into view from somewhere above Heidi. Thin and flexible, its tip slipped beneath the grumbling pile that was Vyrix and lifted her back to her feet. Several floating eyes approached close to Vyrix in concern. Another descended to watch Heidi, drifting distractingly only a couple feet from Heidi¡¯s face. This eye had two pupils, and they were green. Vyrix groaned as she steadied herself with the help of the tail. She crutched over to Heidi and struck her across the face with her cane before Heidi could think to say anything. Heidi¡¯s vision broke apart into pale shapes, her thoughts stunned by the sudden impact. ¡°Perhapth,¡± she hissed, ¡°I thould have killed you. Perhapth we are both dead now.¡± Vyrix turned and limped back to the bodies of the Darkworlders. She muttered to herself as she knelt down beside one. The pain from the blow to her face made Heidi groggy, but she did her best to watch. She had to know what was happening. Vyrix¡¯s disgusting knotted clumps of hair rose and drifted as though weightless, twitching in the air. ¡°The rue¡­¡± Heidi managed, tasting blood in her mouth. ¡°They¡¯ll come¡­¡± ¡°Yeth indeed. I wath jutht thinking¡­¡± Vyrix grunted as she did something to the corpse of the Darkworlder, ¡°how I long for thomeone to annoy me with obviouth factth. Cathie!¡± The weight atop Heidi stirred, crushing her even harder into the cold metal. ¡°We¡¯re leaving.¡± Cazzie warbled her weird keening cry. The beast¡¯s head descended into view, and Heidi saw dark blood glistening on a fanged feathery jaw. No eyes. ¡°Yeth, we¡¯ll take her,¡± said Vyrix. ¡°I don¡¯t give up tho eathily. Thomeone elthe will trade for her. There are plenty of otherth.¡± Vyrix turned and held up a thick hand made of porous black stone. It glistened in the light. Blood? ¡°Ath I thought,¡± she said. ¡°Thith one wath cold.¡± Cazzie cried again. A noise nearby made Vyrix jerk her head around so quickly that she would have fallen over again if the feathery tail hadn¡¯t still been there for support. ¡°Already?¡± she said, and again Heidi heard fear in her voice. Heidi heard it a moment later: footsteps approaching, boots on metal. Many. ¡°Do not thpeak,¡± said Vyrix, but her voice sounded as though it was an echo from far away, barely heard. Heidi tried to respond, but could not. No sound came. Her throat suddenly felt dry and cold. It would not work. Her heart galloped in her chest. A troop of Darkworlders came into view. Heidi tried to count them, but most were in shadow, difficult to see. She guessed eight to ten. Too many. ¡°What happened here?¡± demanded one of them, a creature with half of his body much larger than the other half. He, and all the others, had their weapons variously trained on Vyrix, Cazzie, and Heidi. Somewhere nearby rang out the heartbreaking cry of a rue, as if in punctuation to the scenario. The sound made some soldiers shift and gaze about nervously. Vyrix spread her hands apologetically. ¡°It theemth our prithoner got¡­carried away. My thintheretht apologieth.¡± ¡°Is that so?¡± spoke another voice from somewhere back in the darkness. The sound of hard-heeled boots clicking against the floor rang out in the sudden quiet. The Darkworlder troops parted as a figure emerged from behind them. He wore a long black coat, a broad black hat, black boots, faded jeans, and a dirty white collared shirt. He had a big black belt with a shiny silver buckle and two enormous silver revolvers holstered at his thin hips. His face was pale, his eyes dark, his nose and jawline sharp, his smirk wide, his teeth perfect white. Heidi felt her mouth hanging open. This¡­ was he Abraham Black? He was, somehow. She could easily see the resemblance to the monster in the vision back in the Museum. But this was the non-monstrous version. Sinister, yes, and still frightening, but¡­well, he was human. Almost handsome, even . And oh, so dangerous. That was clear; danger bled from him like a cold mist. The soldiers leaned away unconsciously, not quite daring to actually take a step. Black¡¯s pale fingers twitched at his sides, no doubt prepared to draw and shoot those revolvers before anyone else could even blink. ¡°But these are bullet wounds, witch,¡± said Abraham Black, his voice cold and hard with just a hint of amusement. ¡°And I see that you are the one with the gun.¡± Heidi had a limited field of vision, which included the scene with Vyrix and Black as well as the wall behind them. She was looking right at it when it happened: something slid out of one of the hairline fractures in the angular wall of the lorn spike. Like a tall sheet of paper, it emerged from a space that could have admitted nothing thicker. It slid out quickly, and Heidi gasped when she realized what it was: Severard. It looked like a completely flat paper cutout of Severard, the tall thin mannequin wrapped in parchment. But when it was fully out of the wall, the cutout of Severard turned, twisted, and Heidi saw it fully in three dimensions as though suddenly comprehending an optical illusion. Severard had done it so quickly and smoothly that no one besides Heidi had noticed before it was completely there. Severard¡¯s arms flattened into almost-nothing, and with a quick scything motion it slashed at the two nearest Darkworlders, who at once dropped to the ground with cries of alarm and sprays of dark blood. Thunder rang out, deafeningly loud; Black stood in a cloud of smoke, one revolver aimed at Severard, the other at Cazzie. Something landed heavily among the Darkworlders, crushing one to the cold metal. The three-armed shape rolled aside as light flashed from energy weapons into the space where it had fallen. Thunder boomed once more. A chittering, a skittering, and Cazzie warbled and snarled as something many-legged and horrible swarmed upon it. Vyrix dropped painfully onto the ground and began muttering words that Heidi heard as though from a great distance¨Cuntil Fifteen dropped atop her, interrupting the disfigured witch. In an instant, the tense silence became a chaotic roar of sound against a backdrop of perpetual crashing thunder. The weight of Cazzie lifted from Heidi and she staggered to her feet. A dark shape swirled about her feet. Bahamut! He flicked his head away, and Heidi understood. She summoned a sphere just as the rue descended on all of them from above. With a terrible cry, it took the shape of a many-headed monster. It was big. It would have been the biggest Heidi had yet seen were it not for the colossal monstrosity that had destroyed the wrecked ship not long before. Abraham Black cackled with laughter and turned gracefully through the chaos, arms outstretched as though dancing, his weapons flashing and thundering. Heidi saw Severard shot full of holes, saw Fifteen come apart like mist in the clutches of Vyrix, heard Ruth and Cazzie battling, saw the gorilla streaming with blood as it employed one Darkworlder as a weapon, flinging it carelessly against all the others. She twisted gravity as hard as she could, shaping it to take herself, Ruth, and Bahamut. They, along with Vyrix and Cazzie, skidded sideways alongside the lorn, across its surface, leaving the battle far behind. They fell for many seconds, away from the booming thunder. ¡°Thtop!¡± said a voice as though shouting right into her ear. ¡°There¡¯th a wall!¡± Heidi reversed the gravity to slow them down to a halt, then let go and dropped them all onto the cold metal. Vyrix coughed in a series of hacking gasps; she whimpered with pain. A ball of cold blue light illuminated them: Heidi, Vyrix, Ruth, Cazzie, Bahamut, sprawled out at the juncture where the lorn they lay on intersected another. Gravity was weak here, and it made them seem to be on a mild slope. Ruth was up in an instant, one of his cruel pincers around the neck of Vyrix. He appeared capable of snapping her head clean off. Vyrix choked and spluttered in his grip. Cazzie, nearby, stirred feebly, but Bahamut stood guard over her. Heidi could now see that Cazzie looked a bit like an enormous feathery gecko with wings and a long neck. And eyes, of course, about six of them rolling around on the ground and groggily lifting into the air. Each eye was different. The hideous face of Vyrix hacked with choked laughter. ¡°I thee,¡± she gasped. She turned her single eye up to the chewing mandibles of Ruth. She spat black blood at him. ¡°Do it.¡± Cazzie wailed her warbling cry in response to this. ¡°Wait,¡± said Heidi without thinking. Her throat felt dry and prickly now that she could speak again. ¡°Thut up,¡± said Vyrix. She kicked feebly and glared at Heidi. Ruth turned to look at Heidi. There was something awful about that sight: the grotesque insect monster clutching an equally repulsive girl by the neck. Not a girl, though. A cursed witch. One ready to sell Heidi to the villains, and from the looks of it probably regretting not killing her. ¡°Shall I make an end of her?¡± asked Ruth. ¡°N¡­no,¡± said Heidi. ¡°Then¡­?¡± Ruth did not let Vyrix go, but he relaxed his grip enough for her to breathe. Heidi didn¡¯t know. She had no idea. She struggled to clear her thoughts. Maybe it was everything that had happened, so confusingly and quickly, in such rapid succession, but she was getting a headache. She tried to focus. ¡°We¡­there¡¯s a prison, right? I¡¯m the warden of a prison.¡± Ruth nodded. ¡°We¡¯ll take her prisoner, then.¡± Why? Why, when she was dangerous and this was almost certain to cause nothing but trouble? Maybe Heidi had seen enough killing already. Maybe she thought Vyrix could be helped. Or maybe she didn¡¯t want to watch a girl get decapitated in front of her, no matter how villainous. Yes, that was probably the one. Vyrix laughed, a horrible gasping chuckle. ¡°Tho,¡± she said, her voice still choked and weak. ¡°You figured it out. I¡¯m imprethed. I couldn¡¯t tell.¡± Heidi took a deep breath and rubbed her temples. Sleep. She needed it. ¡°I took you for a fool,¡± Vyrix continued. ¡°Well, there¡¯th no need to torture me. I bet I wouldn¡¯t latht an hour anyway, not from thith one.¡± She kicked weakly at Ruth. ¡°It¡¯th right in my cloak.¡± Heidi shook her head. ¡°What?¡± Vyrix narrowed her eye at Heidi. ¡°The antidote.¡± Antidote. ¡°For what?¡± Vyrix blinked at Heidi, the first time Heidi had seen her blink. ¡°For the poithon of courthe. I poithoned you. Wait¡­did you not know that? Thit. Thit! Well. I gueth now I really am dead. Go on.¡± She closed her eye. ¡°I can¡¯t thtop you.¡± Cazzie came to life, struggling and thrashing although badly wounded. Bahamut hissed, ready to pounce. ¡°Wait! Stop!¡± Heidi shouted. She was getting dizzy. Poison? Damn. She had to think. ¡°Just¡­no. No more killing. We need¡­¡± What did they need? She pointed at Vyrix. ¡°Prisoner.¡± She pointed at Cazzie. ¡°Prisoner.¡± She pointed vaguely back in the direction they had come from. ¡°Get the others. Retreat. Back to¡­¡± To where? Something hit her on the side. She instinctively fought back, but it was hard as metal. Hard and cold; immovable. She bruised her knuckles against it. She heard other voices. Ruth, showing concern not befitting so terrifying a creature. Bahamut, her friend. Mighty hunter. Then there was nothing. Chapter 34 Chapter 34 The Scientist He scratched at the stubble of his beard and stared at a peeling plaster wall. He rested his head back against the cool metal of a filing cabinet. Waiting. He raised a blue rubber racquetball in his right hand and with a deft flick bounced it: floor, wall, back to hand. Floor, wall, back to hand. A steady pattern. He could do it with his eyes closed. But he didn¡¯t dare close his eyes. He might sleep if he did that. The ball might keep bouncing on its own if he fell asleep, but the plans he had set in motion might not. It all might fall apart. Things were balanced on a razor¡¯s edge already. Too much had already gone wrong, despite all of his foreknowledge and all of his careful preparations. The native Nicholas Carter, killed before he could be brought into the plan. That had been a sore loss for everyone. Isaac and Kaitlyn¡¯s earthbound bodies were already dead¨Cand out of all six, why did it have to be those two? He had refused to look at the photographs. The treachery of the Three he¡¯d brought in from the Museum he had long foreseen, yet somehow they had managed to threaten all he had worked for by sneaking in Abraham Black, hitching a ride for him on the energies of the Breach that he had so carefully organized. And not just any Abraham Black, but some kind of monster with both an angel and a dark key inside of him. Where the hell had that come from? Floor, wall, hand. Floor, wall, hand. A computer beeped behind him. He rose to his feet, wincing at the aching and popping of his joints, stretched to work out the kinks in his back. He took his thick glasses from the desk, flicked them open, and put them on as he sat down before the computer. A message from Riley. He had made it into the Museum. That place was an element of chaos in all his plans, but a necessary one. McFinn might be waiting for weeks with regards to his own perception of the passage of time, or he might be seeing action already. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. The man at the computer rubbed the palms of his hands into grainy, sleep-deprived eyes. He swirled the lukewarm and equally grainy dregs of a mug of coffee close at hand, then drained it with a grimace. He¡¯d never really been a coffee drinker, but he was pretty sure this stuff was terrible by any standard. Behind him, the ball kept bouncing. Another beep, another message. It was one of his agents on the field, a loyalist within October Industries that still reported to him. Ezekiel had escaped Abraham Black in Nevada. Ezekiel was almost certainly back in the Museum. The man at the computer would have preferred him on Earth. At least on Earth he could have kept track of that slimy egomaniac. But on the other hand, that only left Jordan and Shadrach to put a wrench in things here on Earth. Alan, Rebecca, and all their new friends could handle those two. Probably. The ball bounced behind him as he worked, sometimes varying its rhythm. He wrote instructions to those pieces on the board he still controlled. He sometimes used aliases. Some of his agents did not even realize they were his. Several October Industries employees believed incorrectly that they were reporting to Ezekiel or Shadrach. He signed a certain set of instructions as ¡°Christmas.¡± He paused in his work as something moved somewhere up above. Probably just the fog. He checked the makeshift security system he had set up here in the basement of a foreclosed tenement building, not far from the central offices of October Industries. The cameras picked up nothing but fog. He made sure of the defenses around his dim, dank workplace, making sure he had weapons at the ready. He detested weapons. Violence, he had always said, was for those who lack imagination. There was always a better way for the thoroughly informed, the thoroughly prepared, the sufficiently creative. But he had to admit, although he knew more about what was happening than anyone else on this world, he felt neither sufficiently prepared nor informed. And he had to remain alive. At any cost. The noise came again from somewhere above, closer. Innocuous or malicious? If the latter, human or fog-born figment? The scientist took hold of the weapon on the desk. ¡°The sun,¡± he reminded himself, ¡°is rising somewhere.¡± Chapter 35 Chapter 35 Elmer Sky ¡°Look at that!¡± Elmer cried in delight. ¡°Look, dear. You¡¯re not looking.¡± ¡°Elmer, I¡¯ve been looking,¡± said Amelia from her reclined position on the grass. ¡°What else is there for me to do?¡± ¡°But it is even more marvelous than last time, dear!¡± ¡°I know how sunsets look, Elmer.¡± Elmer paced the hilltop in his sky-blue tracksuit, his ample body aquiver with excitement at seeing the last sunset this world would ever know. And it was marvelous indeed! The golden light of the setting sun traced along the cracks in the broken sky, and all the fog billowing down in great columns from one horizon to the next was awash in the rosy light. It looked as though Elmer and his companions stood upon a green hill amid a tranquil sea of honey and wine. Elmer sighed in contentment and checked to see whether Amber Jane was enjoying this spectacle as she ought. The girl sat by her unconscious sister, reading from that book of poetry. Her singing had been wonderful! It had fixed Amelia right as rain, just as he¡¯d said, although in truth Amelia had needed quite a lie-down afterward. Still! Here, they were¨Calive, together, and well! No Abraham Black in sight, nor any dastardly fiends in grey coats. Elmer preened his dark moustaches in satisfaction. The fog closed in around them as evening came on. The brilliant lighting of the sun faded to fuchsia, then to slate grey. Elmer sighed again, this time in resignation, as the fog concealed the heavens above. No more sky. Not for now. Not for ever, likely, on this world. But what a finale! ¡°I think I can manage,¡± Amelia said as the dim twilight set in. ¡°Capital!¡± Elmer proclaimed. He sprang lightly to his feet despite his bulk. ¡°We¡¯d best find some shelter from this fog. We shouldn¡¯t want young Elizabeth catching chill!¡± ¡°Indeed.¡± Amelia sat up and buttoned her long, dismal coat around her. ¡°I recall seeing some houses nearby. We can take turns with Elizabeth.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll try to spend the night somewhere?¡± asked Amber Jane. ¡°At someone¡¯s home?¡± ¡°I suppose,¡± said Amelia. ¡°Better than spending it here in the fog. Indoors offers some protection, you know.¡± ¡°Protection?¡± Amber Jane closed the book, replaced it into her purse, and looked around nervously. ¡°From what?¡± ¡°The fog, dear,¡± said Amelia. ¡°What comes of the fog, rather,¡± said Elmer. ¡°Well then,¡± said Amelia as she rose to her feet. She took a wobbly step but soon found her footing. ¡°Let us away. The effect will intensify as night falls.¡± ¡°Ah! Night!¡± said Elmer. ¡°That charming obscurity!¡± Amber Jane bound up her mass of golden hair and took the first turn carrying Elizabeth, whom they had bundled in coats for warmth. Elizabeth looked very peaceful there in her sister¡¯s arms. The three of them set off downhill, easing through the thickening fog in the direction Amelia pointed out for them. ¡°Soon,¡± said Amelia, ¡°we ought to come upon a road of some sort. We will simply follow it to a turnoff.¡± ¡°Ingenious! But I wonder, Amelia, do you suppose that young Elizabeth¡¯s dreams will manifest in our presence?¡± ¡°I think not, Elmer,¡± sighed Amelia. ¡°She¡¯s not really here, you know.¡± ¡°Of course, of course.¡± Alas! To be where she probably was! Home! Though Elmer recollected it hardly at all. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°What¡­¡± said Amber Jane, who walked behind them and stepped with extra care down the slippery grass to avoid stumbling with her precious cargo, ¡°are you talking about?¡± ¡°Ah!¡± Elmer turned to her and tapped the side of his head with a finger. ¡°I forget. I offer my sincerest apologies! Perhaps you¡¯ve been paying too much attention to your feet. To notice, that is.¡± ¡°Notice what?¡± ¡°Here, allow me.¡± Elmer held out his short, pudgy arms and took Elizabeth from Amber Jane. Elizabeth was heavy, but not enough to seriously hamper his movement. ¡°Now,¡± he said, ¡°Take a close look at the fog. In particular, up there by Amelia. What do you see?¡± They looked together. The fog, with a curious grainy texture unlike regular fog, was shifting and forming itself into shapes. Cubes, spheres, rods, spiraling patterns and bending lattices. Each lasted only a moment. Each appeared almost accidental, the way that a passing cloud might happen to look, for a brief moment, like a certain animal. ¡°I don¡¯t understand,¡± said Amber Jane, watching so closely that she tripped and had to catch herself. ¡°Observe long enough,¡± said Elmer, ¡°and you will see the products of your own thoughts¨Cand mine as well! The longer this goes on, the more real they will become. And of course the effect is greatly amplified by sleeping. Dreaming, you understand. It can be quite dangerous if, for example, you have a nightmare!¡± ¡°There are other influences,¡± said Amelia, who had paused to let them catch up. ¡°Its effects are more pronounced at night. Perhaps because more people are asleep? Certain types of people, such as young children, have a tendency to generate especially potent figments.¡± ¡°I¡­hmm,¡± said Amber Jane. She furrowed her brow and hugged her tan jacket more closely around her. ¡°Do not fret,¡± said Amelia. ¡°You will come to understand in time.¡± It was only a few minutes later that Amber Jane cried out in surprise. Elmer, preoccupied with carrying Elizabeth, did not see what had caused the commotion. ¡°Was that him?¡± asked Amelia. ¡°The one you were speaking to?¡± ¡°Y¨Cyes,¡± said Amber Jane, shaken. ¡°It was¡­it was like I saw him in the corner of my eye. And then¡­¡± ¡°Like seeing someone in a dream, dear,¡± said Amelia. ¡°Do not fret. He wasn¡¯t real. Er¡­just remember that. If he begins talking.¡± ¡°They can talk?¡± ¡°They can do much more than that, Amber Jane,¡± said Amelia. ¡°There is a danger, beyond the possibility of dying to a nightmare, that one loses track of reality.¡± ¡°Not an arduous task in the fog, I daresay,¡± added Elmer. ¡°Yes. Quite.¡± ¡°Amelia!¡± A thought struck Elmer so suddenly that he forgot for a moment to keep holding up Elizabeth. She tumbled from his arms onto the dewy grass. Fortunately, the distance of her fall was not great. ¡°Yes, Elmer?¡± ¡°It just struck me, Amelia! How do we know so much about the genesis mist?¡± ¡°Really, Elmer, it¡¯s simple. We¡­ah¡­hm.¡± Amelia glared at the gravel by her feet. ¡°Aha! Another one for the book!¡± Elmer took out his notebook of memories and began scribbling in it as Amelia hefted the sleeping Elizabeth over her bony shoulder. More visions manifested in the fog as they progressed, images glimpsed for a moment before vanishing into smoke. At first, they were grainy, grayscale, chance formations of the fog itself. But Elmer knew, without knowing how he knew, that in time they would gain color, form, independence. The time might come when, if he was daydreaming of something (a kitten, for example!) it might appear with such reality that he could hold it and carry it with him. It might scratch him, and the scratch would remain even when the kitten dissolved. Of course, it was very difficult to simply will something into being like that. Few had such control over their subconscious processes. He noted his awareness of these fascinating insights in his notebook of memories. It was a bit like learning interesting new things, except that the person explaining it to him was his own thoughts! Remarkable! It never became truly dark, even long after night ought to have fallen. The fog generated its own dull self-luminescence. Just as they began to consider the necessity of bedding down along the side of the road they followed, Amber Jane spotted a building nearby in the mist. They approached, verified as best they could that this was a real structure that would not dissolve into fog momentarily, and entered. It was some kind of barn, home only to two nervous horses. Elmer at once made it his goal to befriend the horses. Chapter 36 Chapter 36 Jimothy Skywater City could not be described with a single word. Marvelous was a good one, because it was full of marvels, but that didn¡¯t indicate how large and varied it was. Spectacular was also good because it was full of spectacles, but that didn¡¯t tell about how it was also just a regular place where people lived and worked and slept like normal. Fascinating was good, except that for Jim almost anything could be fascinating in the right light. Skywater city was bright and dark, beautiful and mysterious, chaotic and loud and colorful. He got swept away in the experience, just as he had before. He forgot all about meeting his friends. Instead, he watched a creature made of leaves and flowers, taller than Jim though it crouched low to the pavement, opening a door repeatedly for anyone that dropped a few coins into a bucket. The door opened into a different place each time. Then he saw a little gnomish creature with hat after hat stacked up on top of its head. All kinds of hats, piled four or five feet high! And they never fell, though the little creature danced nimbly through the throng. Then Jimothy saw a group of translucent whale-like creatures drifting over the rooftops. It looked like they carried something inside them, some kind of machinery, but Jimothy couldn¡¯t get a good look. Then he found a market and gaped at the strange merchandise and the stranger merchants: a scary two-dimensional cloth-wrapped figure selling jars of colorful smoke; a floating mass of glowing blue wires crackling with electricity, apparently selling pieces of itself; a greenish cylindrical creature with rows of spoke-like limbs selling something that looked like regular chalk. The chalk tempted, but realized anew that he had no money. Maybe they would trade? What did he have to trade? Jimothy reached the conclusion that maybe all he had to trade was the ability to color things. After all, he¡¯d been making money doing that back on Earth. He was considering how he might go about this when he saw a creature that looked just like Niri. Those same silver eyes, golden jaw, traceries of lines over the body. But it was bigger, and the lines were darker, and it looked intimidating. In a moment, the creature was gone, absorbed back into the masses from which it had so briefly emerged. Jimothy made a feeble attempt to push his way through the crowd to find that creature, but it was no good. Up to this point, he had been edging along the sides of the streets where no one shoved him and he got in nobody¡¯s way. As soon as he entered the jostling mass of strange creatures in the market, he lost his balance, lost his bearing, and lost his nerve. Shoved by the crowd, he dropped painfully to his knees. His cane clattered away, lost in the sea of bodies, legs, strange feet. All at once Jimothy felt very hot, very hungry, very tired. A headache throbbed. He knew what was happening now, in a detached way. It was the thing that embarrassed him, but that he couldn¡¯t stop. He gazed around him, eyes wide, startled like a creature caught in bright headlights. Everywhere noise, everywhere commotion, everywhere people he didn¡¯t know, people he knew nothing about, who knew nothing about him, who didn¡¯t care, who didn¡¯t even know he existed. They kept moving, all around him, this way and that, their feet thumping, their shoes clattering, their voices calling and crying, laughing and chattering, and in the midst of it all Jimothy himself, suddenly realizing how lost he was, how unknown, how alone, how much his head suddenly hurt. He squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to block out all the light, the movement, the noise. He wanted to be in his room right now, or anywhere instead of this place. Someplace darker, colder, quieter. He tried to focus on the Line, but that made everything worse. It blazed in his mind like line? road signs at night lit by headlights. He saw them: road signs in the fog, as though he were in Michael¡¯s car looking out the window as they flashed past. They were like people, flashing past, unseen and unknown. Everything here was a dream¨Coverwhelmingly unreal, on the other side of the Line, the wrong side¨Cnot real, not real¨Cbut somehow that made it all worse. Because it wouldn¡¯t go away, and it was still there when he opened his eyes: the noise, the bright heat, the uncaring masses parting around him or sometimes bumping into him because he was so small, so unimportant. They didn¡¯t know him, not at all. To them, he, Jimothy Whyte, wasn¡¯t real. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. Somewhere, somewhere, Isaac was playing a shiny piano in the dark. Somewhere, an orange lizard was reading a colorful book and laughing. Somewhere, in the cold, a man made of plants drank tea with a lion. Somewhere, under the biggest tree, a beautiful Leaf picked mushrooms from frigid mud and looked with glittering eyes into glittering skies. Somewhere, an eagle was dying slowly, all alone, all alone. And none of this was real. ¡°Wake up,¡± he said to himself. ¡°Just a dream.¡± But it didn¡¯t seem like a dream. His knees hurt from falling; so did his palms where he had caught himself. He had little cuts and scrapes from falling on Hyperion, and he smelled of ink amidst the mysterious flood of scents of Skywater, and he had something hard and sharp and so very bright right there in his pocket, and he could still hear that little gasp Niri had made when she died, and had that been a dream? ¡­dream¡­ ¡°Hazel,¡± he whispered, but now he no longer knew if Hazel was real at all. Had Hazel ever been real? Jimothy tried to think of the most real thing he could and came up with Michael. Michael was real. But where was he? Michael had always been there, but now¡­ He felt himself heaving. Was he crying? Yes, he could feel the hot tears, the pain in the throat, the ache deep back behind his eyes. Was he even real? How would he know? calm He hugged himself, hunched over on his aching knees, and tried to control his panicked breathing. In and out, he told himself. In and out. But his thoughts had no effect on his quick, shallow panting. He didn¡¯t know. He didn¡¯t know anything, and the Line was failing him. Michael. Mike. Where? He was cold, shaking, terrified. He needed to throw up. Paint, Jimothy Whyte Paint. He should paint something. That always made him feel better. But what to paint? All he saw, through vision blurry with tears, were the white paving stones intersecting beneath him, swarming with moving shadows. The stones were plain white; they could use some color. He reached a trembling hand down to the warm stones and slid his other into the pocket of his coat where the crystal was. Jimothy squeezed his eyes shut and painted. As so often happened, he didn¡¯t consciously think about what he was painting. It unfolded in his mind like a blooming flower, revealing something new. What he saw was a pattern, dark and colorful, tessellating triangles and odd shapes, a puzzle not quite put together of a scene he couldn¡¯t quite remember, stars and skies and rocks and sadness, but most of all, his brother Michael. He fell over, suddenly very tired. Figures stood over him, their outlines indistinct against the brightness of day. ¡°It¡¯s him,¡± one of them said in a deep grumble of a voice. ¡°I saw them leave together.¡± ¡°Bring him in, then,¡± answered another. Jimothy wanted to ask what they were talking about, but his head was now splitting with a headache and he was so very tired. Chapter 37 Chapter 37 Isaac Eric and Isaac sat in stretchy chairs of khaki fiber beneath the shade of a green nylon awning, overlooking a shady tree-lined courtyard. A stage was being set up down there, constructed out of dark lumber, though it looked far from finished. To Isaac, the view resembled a scene from an old and classy European city. Almost. But the trees were wrong in shape and coloration, and the shadows were wrong because light came mainly from the low clouds rather than any sun, and most of all the pedestrians were wrong. Wrong for a European city, that is. In other ways, Isaac thought they were Just Fine. Then there was the matter of the three moons up there. The Hollow, Cloud, and Metal moons, unless he was mistaken, of which the Metal Moon was the most remarkable in appearance. ¡°Glad you had some money,¡± said Isaac. He took a sip of the cool fruity drink Eric had bought him. ¡°Jacob gave me some,¡± said Eric. ¡°Said the monsters had some on them.¡± ¡°Right. So. Jacob.¡± Eric reached over and showed Isaac his phone. It had a picture of Jacob Hollow. Almost the same Jacob that Isaac had just met days ago. Maybe a little bit different, somehow. Maybe a little less wild in the eyes, though it was hard to tell from a picture. Isaac nodded. ¡°Yup,¡± he said. ¡°So here¡¯s what I think,¡± said Eric after taking a sip of his coffee. ¡°This has all happened before.¡± ¡°Because of your phone call from your future self.¡± ¡°Right. We¡¯ve done this already, and I guess we fucked up or something because I had to call my past self¨Cthat¡¯s me¨Cand tell me to do stuff. It¡¯s impossible to tell what difference my actions have made and whether what I was trying to do worked. You follow?¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°But somehow the Jacob Hollow from the old timeline, like, came back also. To Earth. So now there¡¯s like two of him: the one you met that remembers shit from the future, and this new fresh one that¡¯s meeting us for the first time.¡± ¡°Yeah. Makes sense.¡± Isaac considered this. ¡°He did already know me, kind of. He knew something about Dwayne.¡± ¡°Dwayne?¡± Eric adjusted his shades and looked out at the peaceful scene below. A flock of winged snakes erupted from a tree at some unseen provocation and slithered skyward like a bunch of glittering emerald spaghetti noodles. ¡°You know, that might also be the case with Black,¡± Isaac mused. ¡°Abraham Black,¡± said Eric, not asking for confirmation but just tasting the words. He didn¡¯t appear to like the taste. ¡°You saw him in the Museum right?¡± Eric nodded. ¡°Saw you too. You were fucked up bro. Had a moon too, or something. Guess that¡¯s also from the old timeline.¡± ¡°Right, right. But I think Black must be like Jacob. Jacob even said something like that. Which means¡­¡± ¡°There¡¯s an Abraham Black somewhere in here? Shit.¡± ¡°And,¡± Isaac continued, ¡°don¡¯t forget about the guy who tried to shoot you.¡± ¡°Shade. You bet your ass I haven¡¯t forgotten about him.¡± ¡°And Liz¡¯s weird friends, Shape and Sky.¡± Eric nodded, took another sip. ¡°So a lot of people came back. Wonder how that happened.¡± ¡°Kate knows,¡± said Isaac. This caused Eric to sit up a little straighter and look at him curiously. ¡°It has something to do with October Industries, and her uncle, and Alan Sheppard.¡± Eric stood up. ¡°Of course it does. Let¡¯s go walk around or something; this is boring.¡± Isaac, who had been enjoying the shade and the people-watching up here on the deck, shrugged. Eric paid their server, who appeared human in every way save for his suspiciously fantastical swirly moustache, and they left the caf¨¦. Isaac¡¯s sense of strangeness, of being out of place, faded rapidly as they strolled through the streets. He had felt awkward at first, as though he must be strange and obvious to all the others here on the street, but no one had given them so much as a second glance. Which made sense; nearly everything in view was more interesting than two human teenagers, even if one was wearing a slim matte-black spacesuit and carrying his helmet under one arm and the other had a dusty tattered cape, a sword, and headphones around his neck. ¡°Aren¡¯t you hot?¡± asked Eric. ¡°Nah, it¡¯s got coolant systems. I¡¯m super comfy, actually.¡± ¡°ARKO-tech right?¡± ¡°You got it.¡± ¡°Damn. Wish I had some of that.¡± ¡°There¡¯s a ton of spare suits on my station. You should drop by.¡± ¡°Cool, cool.¡± They wandered down an empty side street. Isaac stopped to comment on the peculiar shapes of the paving stones. Eric paused to point out the equally unusual topology of the cloudscape overhead. They watched something like a many-horned rhinoceros lumber past, bearing a palanquin with rainbow-striped curtains. They wandered through a park, and from a distance watched an old dark-skinned woman slowly juggle a dozen different uncapped jars of viscous liquid. The jars turned as they roved lazily through the air, but none of the stuff inside ever spilled. The old woman had her eyes closed most of the time, and Eric and Isaac hurried along once she opened them because they were glowing yellow. They wound up sitting on the edge of a canal, their feet dangling ten feet over the rippling turquoise water as it lapped against the stone embankment. Something big swam down there in the water, but they couldn¡¯t make out details. A faint breeze blew, carrying the wet stone scent of the canal and the aroma of baking bread. ¡°I wonder if this is how Jim feels,¡± said Isaac as he leaned back and felt the grit on the warm stones digging into his palms as he looked up at an angular cobalt cloud. Real and unreal. Conflicting messages. ¡°Hard to convince myself this is real sometimes. Maybe it isn¡¯t.¡± Eric, hunched over and looking down at the water, dug into his pocket and handed something to Isaac. It was Kate¡¯s phone. An effort had been made to clean it, but some dark substance still remained in the cracks on the casing. ¡°That¡¯s Kate¡¯s blood,¡± said Eric, not taking his eyes from the water below. He dug a tiny rock from a crack in the stones and dropped it down. Isaac opened his mouth to say something about this, but he had nothing. The thought of Kate¡¯s blood, right there on the phone, right there in his hands, was somehow too horrible and foreign to comprehend. It shouldn¡¯t be there! It should be, like, inside Kate! Isaac slid the phone into one of the spare pockets on his spacesuit, where his own phone might have gone if he had or needed one. So far his station and his spacesuit had rendered a cell phone unnecessary. ¡°It¡¯s all real, bro,¡± said Eric. ¡°We have to act on that assumption.¡± ¡°¡­ah. Yeah. Yeah, I guess.¡± ¡°So,¡± Eric continued. ¡°We¡¯ve both met Kate now. Got our wish.¡± Isaac grinned. ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°And?¡± ¡°And what?¡± Eric dropped another rock into the water below. Isaac leaned over to watch. The dark shape in the water circled the place where the rock plopped down. ¡°You¡¯re interested in her, right, bro?¡± Isaac felt an embarrassing heat rise up in his face, but he played it cool. ¡°Eh¡­um¡­like, you¡­well. Hmm.¡± Eric snarked a laugh. Maybe it was his sudden attention to random details, but Isaac realized that Eric had some pretty broad shoulders. When did that happen? Maybe it was that dusty old tarp he was wearing like a coat. Either way, with that sword also sticking up from behind his back, he looked reasonably cool. As expected since they were ¡°heroes¡± in this new world, maybe, but Isaac couldn¡¯t forget when they¡¯d just been scrawny little punks and their swords had been random sticks they¡¯d found in Jim¡¯s backyard. ¡°Well, yeah,¡± said Isaac after mustering what seemed like an absurd amount of courage necessary for such an admission. ¡°She¡¯s pretty awesome,¡± said Eric. ¡°I was always wondering, you know. Why the text-only rule? Why no Facebook or anything?¡± ¡°Why awake at all hours of the day and night?¡± added Isaac. ¡°Why does she know all kinds of shit about everything?¡± ¡°And the future.¡± ¡°That¡¯s what I meant,¡± said Eric. ¡°All that. I was actually thinking, like, maybe she wasn¡¯t who she said at all? Like, how would any of us ever know?¡± Isaac dropped his own rock into the water. This time, a blue-gray webbed appendage surfaced with hardly a ripple and caught the pebble before it hit the water. It carefully withdrew the rock back down below the surface. ¡°But she turned out to be pretty much how she always seemed in our texts,¡± Eric said. ¡°So that¡¯s cool. Also the first time I ever saw her was when she saved me from being shot by taking a psycho killer right the fuck out with her guitar. So that was cool too.¡± Isaac nodded. ¡°She¡¯s pretty special. And just really interesting. Maybe it¡¯s the mystery, you know?¡± Eric nodded. ¡°You¡¯re a sucker for mysterious chicks.¡± ¡°How would you know that? I¡¯ve never even¨C¡± A tiny pebble, maybe the same one, shot out of the water with a small spray and flicked Isaac right in the knee. He recoiled in surprise and pulled his legs up from the water with a yelp. It hadn¡¯t hurt at all. He suspected his spacesuit could withstand small rocks traveling many times as fast. It was just unexpected. He and Eric peered down at the moving shadow in the depths. ¡°Didn¡¯t like your rock, bro,¡± Eric observed as he pried another small chunk of mortar from the stonework. ¡°Yeah, special,¡± he said as he worked, ¡°but, like, chaotic. Or unpredictable. Like¡­¡± ¡°Like the sky?¡± Again Eric snorted with laughter. ¡°Sure, you fuckin poet. Like the sky. Just watch yourself, you know? Might bite off more than you can chew with Kaitlyn Carter.¡± Eric dropped the rock. It plopped into the water; the moving shadow below swirled around it. ¡°When did you become the expert?¡± Isaac suddenly felt that he had to stand up for Kate¡¯s essential unknowableness-especially-by-Eric. ¡°Liz¡¯s who I should be talking to.¡± ¡°You want to talk to Liz about having a crush on Kate? Heh. Good luck.¡± Eric took hold of his hexagonal medallion and formed a small rock out of mist. He dropped it down to the water, but released it partway so that it was only a puff of vapor when it struck the surface. The webbed appendage that had subtly surfaced to catch it groped about in confusion. ¡°Psyche,¡± he said. ¡°Who you should really talk to is Jim.¡± Isaac laughed. ¡°Right, I get it. Tell the whole world by means of Jimothy. Smart. That way I wouldn¡¯t even have to confess or anything personally.¡± ¡°What I meant was that Jim is actually solid for relationship advice.¡± Isaac nodded. He knew what Eric meant. ¡°What about you and Liz, while we¡¯re on the subject?¡± he asked. He kept a close eye on the cloudy water in case more little stones came shooting up at him. ¡°Shit, dude, like I know,¡± said Eric. ¡°Woah, that was romantic. You better, like, put those moves on hold or Liz might get scared off.¡± ¡°I will push you in,¡± said Eric, though he kept his eyes fixed on the water. ¡°Why do you like her?¡± Eric kicked his heels over the water. ¡°Why the hell not? She¡¯s talented, smart, gorgeous. And I like her¡­I don¡¯t know, her stubbornness? Also she¡¯s adorable with cats. You know, how she always tries to pet them no matter what. Fuckin rabid lion just mauled some dude, she¡¯d be all in there trying to cuddle with it.¡± Isaac grinned. He¡¯d never heard Eric talk about someone like this before. And Eric had definitely never called anyone ¡®gorgeous¡¯ before. Isaac thought that was a pretty strong word even for Elizabeth, but that just made it better. He said, ¡°Then how about this: do you consider our current situation more or less favorable for your chances in that regard?¡± ¡°My chances for what, just to figure shit out? Maybe I¡¯ll just sit her down and ask her, for fuck¡¯s sake.¡± Isaac nodded. That¡¯s probably another thing Eric liked about her¨Cthat she was the kind of person you could just ask directly about the status of your relationship without it getting awkward. Elizabeth was drama-proof. ¡°I think tha¨C¡± A jet of water burst from the canal and struck Isaac directly in the chest. The force of it knocked him backwards. He was on his back staring up at the pale sky, surprised but neither hurt nor wet. Eric started laughing beside him. ¡°What¡¯d you do to piss him off so¨C¡± If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Eric received his own jet of water. It bowled him back over onto the walkway. ¡°All right,¡± Isaac heard Eric say as he rolled to his feet, soaking wet. ¡°Is that how it is?¡± This was followed by a tremendous splash. Isaac sat up to see the whole canal roiling. More jets of water spurted up at Eric, but he dodged them easily and stooped to pick up more rocks and toss them down into the canal. At first Isaac thought he was uncharacteristically angry, perhaps because those red headphones around his neck had gotten soaked, but then he saw the smile in Eric¡¯s eyes. Another jet shot out at Isaac. He saw it coming and held up a hand to block it, though it was forceful enough that his hand alone would do little good. It happened in just an instant. The understanding came to him in a flash that his hand was immovable; that it was linked to everything around him; that the water had to hit him only if he wanted it to. And did he want it to? Not really. So he moved it elsewhere. It was like opening a door in his mind. The spout of water rising from the canal reached his hand, and then kept going from a point ten feet off to his left where it spattered against a red stucco wall. The next one knocked him over again while he stared at the place where he had sent the water. At last, the thing in the canal calmed down. It either moved off or sank below the level of visibility. Eric took this as a sign of victory, posing in cautious triumph at the edge of the canal. Their antics had drawn a small crowd; some of the onlookers rewarded Eric with a scattering of mock applause. Eric stiffened at the attention, suddenly embarrassed. He helped Isaac to his feet. ¡°Saw what you did there, bro,¡± he said as they walked away and the onlookers turned to go about their business. ¡°That was cool.¡± Isaac looked at his hands. They were bare, the thin gloves pulled back at his wrists, so he couldn¡¯t blame the teleportation of water on the suit. Must have been him. Space. Of course. Void Station = Aperture Science? Which would make ARKO¡­ He put on the helmet he had tucked under his arm. It sealed with a tight hiss and Isaac felt the pressurization in his ears. ¡°Show group chat,¡± he said, and there it was, overlaid on top of Eric¡¯s amused face. No new messages. Still just him and Eric here in Skywater. ¡°Real smooth,¡± said Eric. ¡°Yeah. Discreet. ¡®Hang on, let me just put on my spacesuit helmet so I can check my texts.¡¯¡± Isaac took the helmet off again with a squeak of escaping air. ¡°I¡¯m sure there¡¯s a better way,¡± he muttered. ¡°I¡¯m new to all this, okay? I don¡¯t even have ARKO up yet. Did you know it¡¯s programmed with music? Like, with a piano.¡± ¡°I got a fifty-foot-tall metronome that matches your heartbeat bro, you expect me to be surprised by that shit?¡± Isaac shifted the helmet in his arms. There must also be a better way to carry it. He didn¡¯t really want to walk around in a space helmet all day long, no matter how cool it looked. They stopped in a broad plaza flanked with covered stalls to look around. Isaac occupied himself with trying to figure out what time of day it was. This was surprisingly difficult because the small white thing in the sky that passed for a sun here was not visible, and the light instead came mainly from the clouds. The usual tells like shadows and lighting were therefore useless. It could be midday or nearly sundown for all he knew. Maybe it only got dark on cloudless days? The Great Reverse-Overcast? ¡°You been having weird dreams?¡± asked Eric. ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°Dreams. Weird. You had ¡®em?¡± Eric was watching a flock of small bony creatures scuttling over the stones. ¡°Yeah,¡± said Isaac. ¡°I think it¡¯s something about this place. It was called ¡®the Dream Museum,¡¯ right?¡± Isaac had dreamed strange dreams indeed. Meta-dreams. Dreams inside dreams, nested like Russian dolls until he became lost in them. Doors behind doors like a modern art installation, stories inside stories like a tale from the Arabian Nights, until Isaac had lost all sense of what was a story and what wasn¡¯t¨Cor if that question mattered at all. He lost track of what was real, including himself. He could not recall ever having existential crises in his dreams before coming here. The sick, confused panic sometimes persisted for many minutes after waking. After all, had he really awoken, and how would he know? Did he know, for certain, even now? And in the end, did it actually matter? Was this how Jimothy felt? Maybe what Isaac needed was to get himself a Line. He didn¡¯t feel like trying to explain all this to Eric, so he asked, ¡°what have you been dreaming about?¡± Eric stood staring at the little skeletal creatures until they scurried out of sight. ¡°So I¡¯m in a city.¡± ¡°Chicago?¡± ¡°Shut up.¡± Eric gazed with intense focus at the cobblestones. They weren¡¯t actually that interesting in this spot, so probably he was trying to figure out what to say, how to say it. Isaac shut up. ¡°It might be Chicago, or it might be the one on my moon. It doesn¡¯t matter. But¡­people are falling. Something is happening up there, at the top of all the buildings, ¡®cause they¡¯re all fucking skyscrapers, right, fucking huge, and I can¡¯t really see but something bad is happening up there, and maybe I could have stopped it, who knows, but I¡¯m not way up there. I¡¯m down here on the street, and shit¡¯s falling everywhere, the glass is coming down like rain and all this debris and shit. ¡°But people are falling too. And that¡¯s why I¡¯m there, like I understand that. That¡¯s what I¡¯m for, that¡¯s what I do. I catch the people that are falling. That¡¯s what I¡¯m supposed to do, right? But there¡¯s so many, and they¡¯re all kids bro. They¡¯re, like, these kids just falling from way the hell up there. ¡°So I¡¯m running as hard as I can, but it¡¯s a fucking dream so I¡¯m actually slow as hell like I¡¯m running through water. And I¡¯m getting glass and shit all in my eyes and in my mouth but I can¡¯t look away, and all this debris is falling on me, bricks and chunks of concrete, but I can¡¯t stop, because there¡¯s no one else around and if I don¡¯t catch them they¡¯re all going to just hit the ground¡­¡± Isaac shifted on his feet, unsure of what to say about that. Probably he should say nothing; that was probably the smart move. So he said, ¡°Kids are used to being grounded. I know I¨C¡± ¡°But the worst part,¡± said Eric through gritted teeth, as though forcing the words out through sheer willpower, ¡°is that I know some of them. Leah is falling, and so is Kate. Just¡­falling. I have to catch them. That¡¯s the only way.¡± He turned to Isaac. ¡°And then the dream ends, and I wake up. Every damn night. Also,¡± he drew his arm back and punched Isaac in the jaw, knocking him down onto the stones. It hurt enough that Isaac wondered for a moment if his jaw were actually broken. He didn¡¯t even notice having hit the ground, and when he looked up at Eric he saw him massaging his knuckles. Isaac worked his jaw around, deciding at last that it was not, in fact, broken, though it might be painful to chew for the next couple of days. ¡°And you said Heidi¡¯s the violent one,¡± he said, grimacing at the twinge brought on by speaking. He took Eric¡¯s hand, the same one that had struck him, and allowed Eric to haul him back to his feet. Eric had got a lot stronger than the last time Isaac had met him. He was much stronger now than Isaac himself, that much was obvious. Isaac wondered, as he stooped to retrieve his helmet, whether he himself had changed that much. He thought not. Everyone else was growing, getting better, getting stronger, and here was Isaac Milton, head in the clouds, spinning his wheels in a race no one else even cared about. Wordlessly, they each moved on from the fact of Eric punching Isaac. Hardly worth noting, really, for either of them. Punishment deserved, punishment allocated, case closed. They moved on, and it wasn¡¯t long before they came upon a commotion¨Cnot a great and uproarious commotion, but more of a confused muddle of curiosity and bafflement. The residents of Skywater stood in the street and gazed about with puzzlement at their surroundings. It was clear enough what had caught their attention: everything had been painted in bright, swirling colors. The buildings on the street ahead, stone on one side and plaster on the other, were one and all swathed in brilliant graffiti. Ribbons of color, streams, rivers, ran from building to building, down to the street, across the street and up the buildings on the other side. The statuary had been affected, as had the fountains, the trees, the animals, and evidently a number of the pedestrians. The irregular line where the mass of colors met the unmarked city was clearly defined. Altogether it looked like the work of some giant graffiti artist who had come by with a load of bright paints and sprayed down everything in sight, except that he¡¯d somehow gotten into all the cracks and crevices. Or perhaps some crop duster had flown past overhead, dumping tanks of dye. But it was too orderly for a random crop-dusting, and too cleanly done for the vandalism of giants. Whatever had done this had left no other mark, no change in texture, not even a smell. More and more people gathered to marvel just like Eric and Isaac; this was evidently a very recent occurrence. Newcomers tested the painted paving stones of the street as though dipping their toes in hot water; doors opened in the distance to admit curious and unmarked citizens drawn out by the commotion; and several people who had themselves been painted were trying to clean the pigmentation off of themselves and their clothes. Most didn¡¯t seem to be having any luck. Isaac tried not to stare as one of the more ordinary-human looking types removed a glove from its three-fingered hand. The glove, in a continuation of the skin of the creature¡¯s arm, was divided between lime green and dark pink. The hand beneath was a muted viridian, presumably the natural tone of the creature¡¯s skin. Elsewhere, a street vendor cut some kind of pastry in half to observe that its interior, like the outside, was half bright-pink in a clean line. He at once raised the price. Eric didn¡¯t seem to appreciate this remarkable find, nor the fact that it was clearly a brand-new development that the citizens of Skywater appeared to understand no better than the humans from Earth. ¡°Huh,¡± Eric said, then continued to stroll down the tumultuous avenue. Isaac followed, pausing now and then to see some strange sight. A shopkeeper was furious about the hanging fabrics that had all been partly stained. When they crossed a canal, the water moving sluggishly beneath them was red and orange. The Nile to blood. Normal water a hundred yards up the canal was slowly filtering down and replacing the red water as it drained away. What had it looked like when the bloody length of the Nile drained out of ancient Egypt into the Mediterranean? ¡°There,¡± said Eric when they came at last to a crowded open-air market. He pointed to a spot near one of the shops walling in the marketplace. Isaac finally understood; Eric had been taking them to the epicenter. One glance at the spot he pointed to made it clear: the colors had originated there. Streaks of pigment made partial rings around that spot as though a tornado of dye had touched down and from there expanded outward. Eric had been following the patterns to find this. They approached the spot, but something kept them from getting too close. That something was a creature: tall, gangly, faintly menacing. It hunched over, squatting down, its long sticklike legs collapsed together, yet still could have looked down at Isaac. It wore a blue diamond-patterned T-shirt many sizes too small for it, pale green stretchy shorts that similarly covered only a fraction of its legs, pink plastic flip-flops that fit only the far ends of its ridiculously long feet, and a tall purple stovepipe hat from which hung limp streamers in many colors. And a mask: a pale, happy, laughing mask. Its skin was mottled yellow-green, and as though to make up for its absurdly inadequate clothing it, was covered in a motley collection of armbands, jewelry, ribbons, handkerchiefs and other scraps of colorful cloth, random shiny baubles including everything from monocles to bottle caps, and at least a few objects that Isaac would have sworn were Christmas tree ornaments. A stirring of vibrant fabrics and a clattering jangle of accessories accompanied every twitchy movement. It closely inspected the spot where the color had originated, its expression unreadable through the laughing mask, and around it gathered a crowd of mixed subservient lackeys and curious spectators. Isaac and Eric came close enough to hear the sycophancy. ¡°What do you see, Lord Fool?¡± ¡°A terrible business, Lord Fool, a marvelous terrible business indeed!¡± ¡°Why, the spirifers are having conniptions, Lord Fool. Serves them right, of course.¡± ¡°Could it be those dastardly scriveners, do you suppose?¡± ¡°A real humdinger, and no mistake!¡± ¡°By the Ten, Lord Fool, is this your doing?¡± Lord Fool traced a long, slender finger against the painted stones and brought it up to its mask. Its head tilted one way, then the other, and then it laughed. The laugh was high, intense, shallow. Something about that laugh was infectious. All those nearby smiled, then began to laugh themselves. Isaac realized that he, too, was grinning. Lord Fool planted a hand on the stones and sprang off of it in an astounding display of gymnastics. He rose high up into the air, scattering little bits and trinkets that glinted in the light and showered down upon the onlookers. They cheered. It took Isaac a moment to realize that Lord Fool did not plan on falling back down. The creature spun in an awkwardly elegant dance in the air; its long limbs curled about its own body like streamers. Then, while still gamboling above everyone, it shouted down at the crowd. Nothing of note here, sings the immaculate, the gracious, the effervescently and effusively frivolous, the forgivingly inadequate, the reliably erratic, the one and the only Lord Fool. Wait and see, he says, and we will see what we see. Wait and see. Pry up a paving stone, take it home, and hang it over your mantle. Pry up a laugh, pry up a smile (says the unwise), and hang it over your chin¨Crightside-up, mind you! Pry up a thought for the future, and discard it into the bay! The future is yesterday, the never is now, the time is right (I promise you), the time is now! It always is. And above all, Fear Not, for fear belongs to the wise, and WE ARE ALL FOOLS Laughing and capering, Lord Fool danced away over the rooftops, right across the grey disc of the Cloud Moon. Isaac blinked, gasped, looked at Eric. Eric had a look of such stupefied disbelief that Isaac laughed in his face. It wasn¡¯t hard; laughing seemed natural right now. All around him, everywhere, people were laughing, joking, singing, even dancing. Someone, was trying to pull up one of the painted paving stones. Eric shook himself out of whatever spell had bound him. ¡°What the fuck?¡± he muttered. Then he grinned. ¡°Jim was right,¡± he said. ¡°This place is crazy.¡± Jimothy. ¡°Of course!¡± said Isaac, affecting a Sherlock-Holmsian British accent and stabbing the air with his finger. ¡°I get it now, by Jove! Jim!¡± ¡°What?¡± Isaac pointed at the painted ground. Then, as though he had noticed it before but the information had taken time to filter through his overworked subconscious, he swung his finger to the side and aimed it at an object at rest against the nearest building. It was a cane, painted in shades of green and blue, lying as though discarded and shunted out of the way by the crowd. It was Jimothy¡¯s cane, no doubt about it. Well, maybe a little doubt. But not much. ¡°Well shit,¡± said Eric. He glanced with apprehension back up to the sky as though expecting a surprise reappearance of Lord Fool. Isaac gazed around for some Convenient Clues. Preferably ones suitably leveled to his own degree of deductive prowess. ¡°He didn¡¯t text,¡± said Eric, who now scanned the crowd of strange beings, searching for a single familiar face. ¡°Did he just forget?¡± ¡°Maybe¡­¡± Maybe what? Did he not have his phone? Isaac¡¯s phone, that is. ¡°I have an idea,¡± he told Eric. ¡°Hold this.¡± He gave Eric the cane and put the helmet on. It sealed with a hiss. ¡°Void suit,¡± he said, ¡°locate my phone.¡± Unable to connect to ARKO. ¡°Yeah, yeah. Um. You¡¯re still connected to my phone, right?¡± Yes. ¡°Can you use it to track its location?¡± That function is inoperative. ¡°Can you¡­send a message and ping my phone¡¯s response time?¡± Yes. ¡°Can you triangulate its position based on this data?¡± Yes. ¡°Cool. Let¡¯s do it.¡± Something struck Isaac on the shoulder. ¡°Bro,¡± said Eric¡¯s voice. ¡°Come on out of there and listen to this.¡± Isaac slid the helmet off and turned to Eric, who stood beside a big brown hairy creature, half of which was purple and didn¡¯t look like it was meant to be. The creature looked so much like a giant Muppet that Isaac bit his lip and struggled to keep a straight face. ¡°I seen yer friend,¡± it said in a deep voice. It had a thick accent. ¡°Ye best be afeared fer ¡®im. Carted off by the Xeon was ¡®e.¡± ¡°A gang or some shit,¡± whispered Eric in explanation. ¡°Which way?¡± asked Isaac. The creature shrugged, then aimed a thick furry arm down a nearby alley. ¡°Careful,¡± he said simply, before turning away. ¡°Well,¡± said Eric. That was all there was to say, really. They both turned and jogged toward the alley. Chapter 38 Chapter 38 Kate ¡°L-look over here,¡± whispered Kaitlyn Carter to herself, only it sounded like ¡°look ovah heah¡± because she was imitating Steve Irwin¡¯s Australian accent. ¡°You c-can see a w-wild K-k-kaitlyn Carter stalking her prey!¡± Crouched low, hidden among the dense rubbery leaves, she placed each foot precisely in the mulch, step-by-step. Birds chirped and warbled nearby, bugs buzzed, a distant crowd murmured, all conspiring to disguise Kate¡¯s soft breathing. Her target came into view through the glossy green leaves and brilliant orange blooms: a very beautiful young woman with beautiful golden hair and beautiful blue eyes and a beautiful singing voice that she never let anyone hear. (¡°Whadda beauty!¡± Steve would have said.) She was sitting beside a pile of winter clothes, which were all quite unnecessary here in Skywater, stripped down to a navy-blue tank top and matching shorts, and she was attempting to pet a nearby cat. The cat in question looked a bit like a blue lion cub, and it viewed Elizabeth with evident skepticism. Little did either of them know! Kate pounced as Liz materialized a jangly feathery stick. She lunged forward and wrapped Liz from behind in a hug so fierce that Liz squeaked in alarm and jolted forward. Something flung Kate back into the foliage with such force that her passing left a trail of broken stalks and snapped branches. She tumbled to a halt against a tree, the breath knocked clean from her lungs. She rolled from her side onto her back and gazed up with blank surprise at the swirling flower petals that drifted down from the bright spaces above, dislodged by her violent passage through the underbrush. ¡°Ahh¡­¡± she said, half a groan, half an expression of amazement. ¡°Crikey!¡± ¡°Kate?¡± The sound of a large creature tramping through the brush came to Kate. (¡®Now how¡¯s this? Here comes another one! Let¡¯s have a look.¡¯) Kate sat up. She tried twisting her back. Nothing broken, but she¡¯d have a bruise back there tomorrow. Liz approached through a twenty-foot path of ruined ferns. Lucky those had broken her momentum before she hit the tree! ¡°W-w-wow!¡± she said. ¡°Oh my god, Kate!¡± Liz charged through the last few ferns and dropped to her knees. ¡°I¡­are you okay?¡± Liz dropped Kate¡¯s glasses into her lap. Kate put on her glasses and adjusted them. She was okay, and surprisingly so considering the force required to fling her twenty feet through the brush. The curious thing about that force was that it had come all at once, distributed evenly over her whole body. She had neither whiplash nor bruise from that push, for it had pushed every inch of her simultaneously! Now that she thought about it, it had been a markedly fun sensation. She giggled in Liz¡¯s concerned face. ¡°That was c-cra-c-cool!¡± Liz¡¯s expression morphed from concern to relief to happiness. She helped Kate to her feet and gave her a tight hug. ¡°Good to see you again, Kate.¡± Kate hugged back. When the embrace was released, she floundered through the brush to find her guitar. ¡°How d-did you do that, Liz?¡± ¡°I¡­I don¡¯t know.¡± Together, they stepped out of the shady undergrowth into the strange daylight of Skywater City. They spent a moment brushing off dirt and picking twigs out of each other¡¯s hair. The blue cat was nowhere to be seen, but Elizabeth merely looked around for it and sighed. ¡°D-did you c-co-come alone?¡± asked Kate. ¡°Yes, except for Callie,¡± said Liz. ¡°No one volunteered. I hadn¡¯t even thought about it, really. Kyko would have come if I¡¯d asked him.¡± ¡°K-k-kyko?¡± Liz smiled. ¡°He¡¯s a cardinal.¡± Kate¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°I d-d-didn¡¯t even know there we-were C-catholics here!¡± She cracked up at her Isaac-tier joke. ¡°D-d-did you take a p-picture of him?!¡± Liz shook her head, then laughed. ¡°Have you been taking a lot of pictures?¡± Kate nodded fervently. ¡°F-f-for science!¡± She whipped out her phone and found the album of Theians she¡¯d been compiling. She had taken many pictures of the markings and patterns on the wings of the Theians. She¡¯d been using this album to memorize their names, compare them to Earthbound Lepidoptera, and possibly make some sense of how they might be categorized and how their genomes might work. No luck on that last part so far. She sat down beside Liz¡¯s pile of winter clothes on the bench and flipped through the pictures, showing Liz all her new friends and stutteringly remarking on how beautiful they were. There was clever Mormo, here was kind and motherly Polyom, this was Mux the curious scientist who had been mystified by Kate¡¯s layers of clothing (and asked her to take them off!), this was the stoic Quorth who kept watch for the storm worms¡­ When she thought Liz might be getting bored, Kate removed a whistle from her lab coat and blew hard into it. She and Liz heard only a faint ringing in their ears, but within minutes the Theians appeared: Shlushluth, who hadn¡¯t gone far because he saw it as his duty to protect Kate, and Thlytri with him, and Flitch with her. Jeno, the butterfly with clear wings, accompanied them. ¡°Aron and Jan have gone to explore the city,¡± said Shlushluth in his curiously forceful whisper. ¡°They say they have seen a strange sight. Something about color. Yet this entire city is strange.¡± The female Theians crowded around Liz while he spoke. Their wings flexed in excitement. Their fluting voices overlapped: ¡°You look just like K-kate!¡± ¡°You must be ¡®Lizzy.¡¯¡± ¡°Are you hungry?¡± ¡°You have hair too!¡± Liz laughed behind her hand and stood to greet them. She raised a hand halfway for a handshake, hesitated with a glance at their tarsi, and then bowed with all dignity. Kate quieted the Theians and introduced them one-by-one. Each tried out the new ¡®hug¡¯ technique on Liz, with amusing results. Liz had to bite her lip not to laugh when tiny Flitch, whose head only came up to her thigh, fluttered into the air and hugged Liz by grappling onto her from the front. Liz was hungry (no surprise!), so they departed for a nearby caf¨¦ to take a light lunch-or-possibly-dinner before finding Eric and Isaac, who had both texted their presence in the city before either Kate or Liz had arrived. Kate had completely forgotten to bring money, and in fact did not even know what the currency was here. ¡°White bronze,¡± said Liz as she showed Kate a handful of intricately carved pieces of metal. They were of varying sizes, shapes, and colors, and on top of that some had holes punched through the middle while others did not, and even the holes were in different shapes! Kate did some quick permutational math and realized that there must be DOZENS of different types of coins! Maybe hundreds, if there were more than what Liz held in her hand. ¡°White iron,¡± Liz continued, ¡°white brass, and I believe even white steel. They are the most expensive marks, or so I¡¯ve heard. I only have a single mark of white bronze.¡± She pointed at a sharp white triangle half the size of a Dorito¡ªthough much thicker and heavier. ¡°Then there are red and black and blue variations. Red bronze, red iron, etc. Value is denoted by a combination of shape and substance. A hole indicates that a coin has been ¡®cleared,¡¯ but I don¡¯t know what that means. Apparently certain types of merchants or tradesman sometimes only accept certain metals. Maybe. Laska seemed a bit unclear on all this herself.¡± ¡°So c-co-complicated!¡± Kate laughed. ¡°B-but I¡¯m glad you¡¯re r-rich!¡± They laughed at this joke, but it turned out that Liz¡¯s single triangular mark of white bronze, called a ¡®white six,¡¯ was enough to buy almost anything they and the Theians wanted at the nearest caf¨¦. And it was a fancy caf¨¦, or so it seemed to Kate. It was called the Silver Green, and it had a seafood theme. They were led by a cheerful almost-human waitress up two floors to a rooftop patio which allowed an excellent view of the surrounding city. Their waitress sat them at a corner table shaded by a lattice of blooming vines and a pink parasol, took their drinks for starters, and she didn¡¯t miss a beat when Liz asked for cold milk, Kate for mango juice, and the Theians for fermenting sugary fruit juices. ¡°Mango juice?¡± asked Liz. ¡°It w-was a t-te-a test,¡± Kate said in a conspiratorial whisper, leaning close to Liz. ¡°Also I think you should have b-been more s-spec-s-p-cifi- more particular about the milk.¡± The Theians, especially Flitch, had yet to overcome their excitement at meeting someone so similar to K-kate. Liz indulged them happily, chatting away and asking incisive questions about the Theians and their world. Shlushluth remained silent for the most part, though he listened closely. It was hard to tell with those compound eyes, but he seemed vigilant. He had ever since they came to Skywater. Was he being protective of Thlytri in this new and surprising place? The thought gave Kate a happy pang in her heart. That was so sweet! Kate spent a smiling moment envying Thlytri before she turned her attention to the city. She stood up and put her hands on the warm sculpted stone railing that enclosed the rooftop patio. Skywater City: vast, varied, colorful, ever-surprising. In many places, if you isolated a small section of the cityscape (which she did by shutting one eye and boxing sections in with her hands), it looked so close to being a city on Earth¡ªmaybe part of Rome, London, or in one direction perhaps more like an oriental city to which she had never been. But a closer look always revealed the cracks: the abnormal architecture, the wild coloration, the impossible floating bits, the stairways to nowhere, the docking airships, the bizarre wildlife. Other parts of the city played by their own rules, aesthetically speaking. In one spot, everything became tall and thin¨Cmuch too thin, as though gravity were not a problem. One big neighborhood near the docks looked like it had experienced a tornado of paint that had left streaks of bright colors all over everything. In another place, so far at the edge of her vision that even with a mist-conjured spyglass she couldn¡¯t see it clearly, the city seamlessly transitioned into a complex multi-level network of treehouses in amongst a forest of deciduous-looking flora that must have been hundreds of feet tall. She thought of this direction as north, she realized, due to the position of the small pale sun. If that was north, then west and south lay the sea. To the west it was close enough for her to make out the tiny specks of gulls circling over the labyrinth of wharfs and piers and masts out on the deep blue bay. Southward, the blue horizon was farther, and it seemed that the city became dull and dirty in that direction; the broad straight streets devolved into an impossible calamity of alleys and canals before eventually scattering onto a broad expanse of sand or mud that met the far southern shore. She couldn¡¯t see much in that direction thanks to the glare of the clouds off the waters. And finally, to the east lay something of particular note. ¡°K-kate!¡± piped a high, almost-musical voice. A soft weight settled onto her head, and the shadows of moving wings passed up and down over her eyes. ¡°What do you want to eat, K-kate? You need more than juice!¡± Kate turned and saw Liz listening attentively to the waitress as she listed popular food items. The waitress was tall and slender and quite pretty, with darkly tanned skin and big hazelnut eyes, but it was her hair that put the ¡°almost¡± in ¡°almost-human.¡± This hair was a deep garnet-red streaked with lines of sapphire-blue. It cascaded in a great rippling mane down her back, and apparently down inside her blouse as well, for it emerged from the short sleeves of her shirt and wrapped in intricate spirals around her forearms and even up around her hands and fingers. Although it obviously originated from her scalp, it didn¡¯t look much like hair in texture. It looked silky, lustrous, but somehow wiry and stiff. Parts of it were clearly holding their shape in a way that hair never should. Kate surreptitiously leaned to one side to look around the table and saw that indeed the hair-or-hairlike-substance wound in spirals down the server¡¯s bare calves as well. Not only that, but it made up the sandals that the lady was wearing! She was walking around on her own hair! ¡°Kate!¡± said Liz, snapping Kate out of her awe. Everyone was staring at her, the waitress with a polite professional smile, her notepad ready for Kate¡¯s order. ¡°I¡¯ll have the s-sp-special!¡± she announced, speaking confidently to cover her embarrassment. The waitress paused, her pen hovering over her notepad. ¡°The special is quorthum gaash,¡± she said. ¡°D-d-did I s-stutter?¡± Kate giggled. The waitress shrugged and glided back to the stairs. Kate hoped that the special was edible for humans. Well, she¡¯d try it anyway! That¡¯s what Rebecca Carter would do. ¡°L-look at that, Liz,¡± said Kate. She pointed to the ¡®east,¡¯ which was in clear view as their corner of the roof angled north. She didn¡¯t have to specify what she wanted Liz to look at. Skywater City rose in a series of irregular hills from the sea in the west to cliff-like heights in the distant east. Long before those cliffs, and not two miles from the caf¨¦ where they sat, rose a hill taller than all the rest, and the structure which capped the hill stood above all others in Skywater, both literally and figuratively. It resembled a fortress, its high white walls reflecting the cloud-light with an enchanting pearlescence. Half-seen phantom rainbows quivered and shifted over the tall ramparts. They could not clearly discern the exact shape of the structure from their vantage, but Kate could easily guess. It was a six-pointed star. From each point of the star rose a tall crystalline tower that gleamed with refracted light. Six more towers, even taller, rose from the inner area, where Kate guessed the points of the hexagon would be. Finally, in the center of these twelve towers rose a final masterpiece: a great column of the same pearlescent stone that made up the walls. It rose hundreds of feet above the walls of the fortress, which were already quite high above the rest of the city. ¡°I noticed it,¡± Liz remarked with a cool voice and an arch of an eyebrow. So practiced and refined was her slight, wry smile that Kate giggled. Kate re-created her spyglass¨Cnow with even more power!¨Cto scan the walls and towers of the magnificent edifice. Some figures moved atop the ramparts, but she could make out no further details. ¡°It¡¯s clearly important,¡± said Liz, which was stating the obvious. ¡°Notice the airspace around it.¡± Kate lowered her glass for a wider view. While flying creatures and machines and hot air balloons and all sorts of other nonsense crowded the skies, especially near the docks, nothing whatsoever flew in a broad radius around the white fortress. Six, thought Kate. What were the chances that somewhere in there was a big platform with six symbols on it? Probably in the middle. Probably at the top. Maybe with six doors? ¡°That¡¯s where we will have to go, isn¡¯t it?¡± said Liz, echoing Kate¡¯s own thoughts. Kate realized she was fingering the cool white medallion on her chest. Their food arrived with surprising speed, borne aloft on silver trays by the waitress. The Theians got right to work on their tall tubes full of juice, but not before thanking Liz very politely for paying. They invited her to Theia so that they could respond in kind. Liz looked quite pleased with her meal, not that she was often otherwise with food, for it was a thick slab of fishy meat covered in orange sauce, with curious little green and blue balls in a white cream to one side. Liz gave Kate a sympathetic look regarding Kate¡¯s own dish, but could not keep a small grin from creeping at the corners of her mouth. A square black plate squatted on the table in front of Kate, about 30 centimeters to a side. It was flat but for the raised edges, and it was covered with a thick layer of dark gray paste that looked like frosting. Ten cylindrical objects almost exactly like sticks of sidewalk chalk were planted in the paste, forming a circle in the middle of the plate like a little pastel Stonehenge. Each was a different color. That was it, except for some tiny blue plant-like tendrils at the corners that flexed slowly and were probably just garnish. ¡°You can have some of mine if you want,¡± said Liz around a mouthful of fish. ¡°It is very good, though a bit too spicy for me.¡± Kate began to giggle, and this evolved into a full bout of laughter that caused her to lean forward and get some of her hair into the gray paste. ¡°L-l-liz!¡± she said through her mirth. ¡°This is am-m-am-amazing!¡± She drummed her heels and wrapped her arms around herself, causing Liz and the Theians and several nearby patrons to stare. What kind of creature, Kate wondered as she wiped away a tear, could this food possibly be meant for? But wait! Surely it wouldn¡¯t be the special if it wasn¡¯t something that most or any patrons would be capable of eating! And most of the patrons, as she could see, were somewhat humanoid. Therefore¡­ What would Nicholas Carter do? Kate seized the purple stick of chalk, stirred it a bit to get a nice clump of the gray stuff at the end, and brought it to her mouth. She could tell from holding it that it was not chalk. It had a rubbery, fibrous vegetable consistency. Nevertheless, she bit down slowly for fear of cracking her teeth. The end of the purple stick snapped off in her mouth like a carrot. She chewed it together with the dull paste. She kept chewing. She blinked a few times. She remembered to breathe. (Important!) ¡°¡­Well?¡± asked Liz, who had stopped to watch. Kate swallowed. ¡°Uh¡­¡± It tasted purple. Violet. It tasted like starlight and cinnamon, like amethyst. And the gray stuff¨Cit was sweet but not too sweet, bitter but not too bitter, rich and substantial in some sense that transcended taste and texture. It was like eating the idea of something good. ¡°Um¡­¡± She took another bite, this time of the purple cylinder only. It tasted like sight and spiders¡¯ silk. It crunched in her mouth like a crumbly vegetable, and it filled her head with almost-ideas, the frustrating kind she was so close to grasping, to remembering. They were strange ideas. Fascinating ideas. Mirrors. ¡°Kate?¡± Liz looked concerned now. Kate smiled at her, and laughed when Liz recoiled at the sight of her teeth, which were probably all purple. ¡°T-t-try one, Lizzy!¡± Kate shoved her plate toward Liz and accidentally shoved it so hard that it slid at record speed across the table and would have smashed into Liz¡¯s own plate if it had not mysteriously stopped, abruptly and all at once, barely an inch from Liz¡¯s plate. Liz appeared hesitant, but also curious. With a slight shrug, she reached for the green chalk-stick and nibbled on the end that had not been in the paste. After a moment, she took a larger bite. Her eyes widened. ¡°I¡­woah,¡± she said. ¡°T-t-try the gray s-stuff, it¡¯s d-delicious!¡± Kate proclaimed in her best imitation of a French accent. She heeded her own words by finishing off the purple stick with another glob. It really did taste like starlight! Like starlight and crystals. Oh no! She should have left some of that one for Liz. Liz forgot her partly eaten plate of fish, and they proceeded to sample all the different colors. Liz took only a small bite of each; Kate finished them off. Each had a different abstract flavor, each flavor was enhanced by the gray paste, and with each new expansion to Kate¡¯s conceptual palate, she felt more lighthearted and free. The yellow chalk sizzled with electricity that danced on her tongue; the blue one tasted like cold, not that it was actually cold, and tasted like the idea of ice, not to be confused with normal boring-flavored ice. The gray one gave her the experience of metal! She had never eaten metal before! The only one she didn¡¯t like was the black one, which of course tasted like darkness, emptiness, nothing¨Can interesting but unpleasant taste that squirmed and shifted in her mouth. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. Kate noticed that she and Liz, who had scooted their chairs together, were laughing and giggling and making a bit of a fuss on the rooftop patio, but she didn¡¯t particularly care. She was still hungry after they had cleaned the plate together, but she also wasn¡¯t. Liz had forgotten all about her fish dish. Fish dish! Liz was trying to get the names of the Theians right, but she kept slurring her words. ¡°Thelyree. Fly-three. Damn.¡± She giggled, then pointed at the small neon orange and green butterfly. ¡°Fritch. Easy.¡± She shifted her finger to the big moth, as white as the clouds with vibrant constellations of purple spots. ¡°Shushushlushshsh,¡± said Liz. She collapsed into a fit of giggles, her pretty golden hair sprawled all over the table. ¡°No no no,¡± said Kate. She patted Liz on the head, missed, and patted her on the back of the neck instead. ¡°It¡¯s shulushuthulsuhshul.¡± She cackled and leaned in close to Lizzy. ¡°He and thrytree are in love, Liz! Isn¡¯t that cute?!¡± She sighed dramatically and fell on top of Liz, almost knocking them both out of their chairs. ¡°Alas!¡± She smacked herself in the face with the back of her own hand. ¡°Ow. Alas! Shall I ever be thus loved?¡± Liz responded with appropriate theatrical flair. ¡°A princess such as yourself? Certainly.¡± Then she actually did slide right out of her chair, leaving Kate sprawled laterally across both of their seats. ¡°Croikey!¡± said Kate, switching to Steve Irwin. Ah, Steve! A wave of sorrow washed over Kate. Alas! But his son¡­ ¡°Liz,¡± Kate announced, ¡°I have a such a crush on Robert Irwin, you have no idea.¡± Kate materialized a floppy broad-brimmed hat such as what the great Crocodile Hunter Himself might have worn. She slapped it onto her head. But it didn¡¯t feel quite right. She took it off to look at it and saw that it was actually a stuffed crocodile. She giggled and hugged it while Lizzy climbed to her feet. Their waitress returned about when Lizzy had regained her upright position on her chair. ¡°Are you¡­doing well?¡± she asked. Her voice was pretty, and she was pretty, even if she did have that crazy hair. Kate was sure that she, the waitress, also deserved a knight in shining armor¨Ca category which as far as Kate was concerned encompassed such diverse individuals as Steve Irwin, Albert Einstein, and Sherlock Holmes. ¡°Whadda beauty,¡± Kate observed. She moved the crocodile when she spoke so that the waitress would think that it was the crocodile that had said it, not Kate. The waitress raised an eyebrow, and a small smile appeared on her face. ¡°I fear the special may have been¡­too much. I wondered.¡± ¡°What is your name?¡± asked Lizzy. She made sure to say each word very clearly and separately. ¡°Ada,¡± said the waitress as she collected the plastic tubes from the Theians. ¡°Are you finished with your fish?¡± ¡°Why is it called the Silver Green, Ada?¡± asked Lizzy, her forehead creased with concentration. ¡°A green is a type of fish around here,¡± Ada explained. She cleaned up Lizzy¡¯s plate. Kate¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Are they green or silver?¡± Then she changed her voice, making it gruff and speaking with the crocodile. ¡°I will eat them up!¡± ¡°They are normally green. As you might guess. They are very rarely silver. It¡¯s good luck to catch a silver green.¡± Kate watched as Ada the Waitress reached for the now-empty black square plate. With the Theians¡¯ juice tubes in one hand, she had too many dishes to hold all at once, but part of the deep-maroon hair around her wrist detached and seized the plate for her, pinching it securely. Kate gasped, and the crocodile faded into mist. She was suddenly hugging nothing but cool, damp air. Her arms closed around nothing. This struck her as unbearably sad. Her dad had been gone just like that! What if Lizzy was next?! ¡°Aaaah!¡± Lizzy cried out as Kate tackled her with a tight hug. Kate sobbed on Liz¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t leave me, Lizzy!¡± ¡°I will not.¡± Liz spoke as though announcing a profound ultimatum. Kate realized that Ada the Waitress was still watching them. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Ada asked. A coil of blue-streaked hair around her left forearm detached and pointed at Kate¡¯s black and green electric bass. Kate meant to answer, but instead she was overtaken by an irresistible fit of giggling. Shlushluth answered instead. ¡°It is an instrument.¡± Ada shifted the plates to a position of easier carry. ¡°I can see that,¡± she said. ¡°What¡¯s it called?¡± ¡°A base,¡± said the moth. ¡°A b-b-bass,¡± Flitch corrected. The other Theians nodded in affirmation. ¡°She plays it well,¡± Shlushluth said. ¡°Under normal circumstances,¡± Thlytri added. ¡°We encourage our customers to play music,¡± said Ada. She looked down at Kate and Liz, again with an almost-hidden smile. ¡°If they can.¡± She turned in a graceful pirouette and glided away with their dishes. Kate sat upright and scooted over to her guitar. She was momentarily diverted from putting it on by the fresh realization of just how fuzzy Shlushluth really was. After a quick hug that left parts of her arms powdery like confectioner¡¯s sugar, she soon had the bass around her neck. Something was odd about the bass. The strings weren¡¯t quite where she¡¯d left them. She flicked a few, and could not tell whether they were in tune. But they still worked, even here, even without electricity or an amplifier. The notes thrummed out through the air, inducing a brief lull in the conversations of the other dozen people here on the rooftop terrace. Liz was watching, absentmindedly twisting a sheaf of her hair into an odd lopsided braid. She nodded at Kate. So Kate played. She wasn¡¯t sure what exactly she was playing. The chords and their progressions, normally so clean and bright and exact in her mind, had become all swoopy and funny. And she really couldn¡¯t tell, but she thought her rhythm might be off. And she also couldn¡¯t quite figure out whether she was playing a melody or an isolated bass line to some other song. Plus, she immediately lost track of how long she had been playing for. Minutes? Hours? FOREVER?!?!? Yet these thoughts were shuffling around in the back of her mind, while in the forefront danced a brazen confidence that whatever she was playing, it was awesome, and she intended to do it justice by playing her heart out! She was James Jamerson! To prove it, she added another line in counterpoint on top of the first. Her fingers flicked at the strings; they hopped and crawled over the bass. The music absorbed her like a bigger microorganism. She stared at the table without really seeing it, blocking off all other sights and sounds. She was just thinking that this was no good, a bass alone was no good, when Liz started singing. Not words, but just the occasional hum or soft vocalization to harmonize with the bass. Kate encouraged Liz with the music. It was easy, the simplest thing in the world to speak with the music, to say ¡®hey Liz! It¡¯s OK, you can sing louder!¡¯ And Liz heard her, and she did sing louder. She sang back to Kate, saying without words, ¡®I don¡¯t understand what is happening right now, but this is amazing and I¡¯m happy to be here with you.¡¯ And it felt good to play here in Skywater, out in the open air, beneath a strange but beautiful sky. Playing outside on Theia, beneath the ever-present storm and thunder, the sky fought against her and her music. But here it welcomed both. She didn¡¯t want to change the sky, not right now. She only wanted to do groovy jams with Liz. But she could. If she wanted to, she could change the sky. And something else noticed this, something out there in the city. Kate could feel it noticing, wondering, reaching out, catching on her music like a sliding sheet catching on a splinter. The song ended eventually, and it left Kate in a state of dazed confusion. Had she ended it, or had Liz? Or maybe it had finished all by itself. She looked around as the Theians chattered their approval and several others on the rooftop applauded politely. Ada was back with a thick sheet of paper that she gave to Liz. Ada winked at Kate, who was so startled by this that she overcompensated by winking back with both her eyes at the same time. ¡°¡­Kate,¡± said Liz, once again the epitome of determined concentration. ¡°I think¡­something may have been¡­I think the special was¡­¡± She bit her lip. ¡°Special?¡± asked Kate. ¡°That was a joke, Liz.¡± She leaned over and poked Liz in the side with the headstock. ¡°The special¡­is special. And you¡¯re right. It tasted¡­¡± Kate scrunched up her face, trying hard to think of another word besides ¡®special.¡¯ She couldn¡¯t, so she exploded her fists apart with a blowing-up noise. Ada finished her round about the rooftop. ¡°Whenever you¡¯re ready,¡± she said as she passed. Liz peered down at the paper in her hands. She tried to adjust her glasses, noticed she wasn¡¯t wearing any, and groped about on her head and jacket looking for them before giving up. ¡°I don¡¯t know how much this is,¡± she whispered to herself. Kate had become fixated on the sky. She scooted around in her chair until the city below and the sky above filled her entire view. She had noticed before that shadows were strange here, but now she realized that that was one reason why the city looked so fairy-tale-like. So imaginary. The shadows were all wrong! They were still there, kind-of, but only in places shielded from view of the whole sky. The sun, a pale white blob so dim it left only the faintest afterimage in Kate¡¯s vision when she looked at it, was almost touching the sea to the west! It was almost sunset! But you¡¯d never tell by looking at the city. The shadows moved with the clouds above, and parts of the city in the distance were noticeably dimmer because of a local scarcity of clouds. If the city was a painting, the artist would flunk his class because of the shading! ¡°Where,¡± she wondered out loud after a moment of observation, ¡°is nighttime? Do they even have it?¡± watch ¡°I am watching, Liz, what do you think I¡¯ve been doing here for the last¡­amount of time?¡± ¡°What?¡± said Liz. ¡°What are you watching?¡± ¡°The sky, Liz! That¡¯s totally my thing! My domain, Isaac says. That and falling, I guess. I fall a lot. Like Jim! That¡¯s fine, though. I¡¯ve got these snowglobes for all our moons!¡± Something caught Kate¡¯s eye, something that flew above the city. She couldn¡¯t say what about it drew her attention at first, for there was a great variety of flying objects, many of them much larger and more interesting than this one particular thing. But there it was, on a line from the docks in the west to the white fortress in the east that would pass only a stone¡¯s throw to the north of where they sat. Maybe it was how it flapped its great white wings, or perhaps it was in the way that everything, clouds and other fliers alike, cleared a broad path for it as it flew. When it passed overhead, Kate saw that it was a creature with several sets of wings. Its body was as large as a human, but she could not see more than that because two pairs of wings covered its face and its body, leaving only one set of wings, the largest, to fly with. The wings were white and feathery, and they heaved in great slow arcs to keep the creature aloft. A faint strain of ethereal music drifted on the wind as the winged creature passed. Kate created a spyglass to keep watch as the creature approached the gleaming pearlescent fortress. She had a lot of trouble finding it through the magnified view, but she caught it just as it swept up with a slow majesty to the height of the tallest tower. Kate watched, her view through the spyglass swaying unsteadily, as the winged figure settled there. The mysterious Metal Moon hung in the sky above it. The figure stretched out its great white wings, which caught the light, then the wings folded in around the creature. It turned, and for a long moment gazed out over the city, motionless. Kate began to wonder whether it would just stay there like a feathery white gargoyle. She nearly took her eyes off it to speak to Liz, but then the winged figure shifted. It reached out a wing and swept it aside as though brushing away cobwebs. Then it did the same with the other. The clouds in the sky¨Cthe masses of water vapor that gleamed as though reflecting sunlight, though the ¡®sun¡¯ even now sank below the sea¨Cmoved. They rippled like soap scum on water being swept aside, though on a slow and grand scale. The parting of the clouds in response to the winged figure took seconds to become apparent, and minutes to become efficacious. While the clouds dispersed, twilight crept into the city. Again a nebulous hint of music trickled through the skies, accompanying the motions of the winged being. Kate gaped out at the spectacle. The light-giving clouds split apart in a seam, and darkness by slow degrees formed consequently in a line that cut the city from fortress to sea. It was a line of shadows, shadows turned in both directions, away from the twin retreating cloudbanks. As the clouds moved above Kaitlyn Carter, scuttling south to the sea, the sky above grew darker, shifting through the phases of the horizon at twilight. Yet this happened not at the horizons, but in an arc that split the dome of the sky overhead, intersecting the three visible moons. A broadening band of that sky darkened, bleeding its shade outward toward the brighter edges. Stars appeared in greater numbers within the deepening rift, while the clouds in the distance colored the horizons red and gold like a low fire, their light filtered now through an ocean of air. The three moons above were all in different phases, dimly lit by the light of the weak sun that had already set. The Metal Moon was strange, for the light of that sun reflected in a chaotic jumble of thin lines that glinted and sparkled as the strange parts of the moon slowly turned. The city below began to manifest as a sea of colorful lights. Kate mouthed the word ¡°beautiful.¡± A thrill of sheer glee ran through her at the sight, and she laughed, bouncing up and down, unable to contain herself. She raised the spyglass once more and swung her gaze to the peak of the white fortress. The fortress, now in strengthening shadows, seemed less affected by the fall of night than everything else in the city. Its pale, nacreous surface shone, reflecting the lights of the towers that gleamed in the night. Light played inside those towers like caged auroras, and that illumination tickled the stone of the fortress like sunlight on the ocean floor, seen through rippling waves. The winged figure was gone. Kate finally tore her eyes away to look at Liz, who had come up beside her. Liz¡¯s eyes were wide, her right hand splayed delicately upon her chest as though in shock. Kate took her hand and squeezed it. After minutes of watching night fall, Kate turned unsteadily back to the table. Ada was there, placing Liz¡¯s change in a neat stack. It didn¡¯t look like much. ¡°Keep it!¡± said Kate. ¡°If you can tell us what that bird-thing was.¡± Already lamps had been lit around the twilit rooftop. A comfortable, buttery glow suffused the air around their table. ¡°It¡¯s obvious you¡¯re new here,¡± said Ada as the coins she had been placing mysteriously disappeared in a whirl of wiry red hair, ¡°but how can you not know about Lady Wings?¡± ¡°We are very new here,¡± said Liz. Then she frowned. ¡°¡®Very¡¯ is bad. It bespeaks a limited vocabulary.¡± She scrunched up her eyebrows. ¡°So does ¡®bad!¡¯ So¡­we are¡­damn it, why can¡¯t I think? What the hell was in that special?¡± Kate giggled. Sugar and spice and everything nice. Snakes and snails and puppy-dog tails! She laughed so hard that she fell against Shlushluth, which was too bad because he had been trying to enjoy a romantic moment with Thlytri as they gazed at the spectacle of nightfall. Kate patted his fuzzy-yet-curiously-hard body knowingly, gave him a wink that he may or may not have seen (hard to tell with those eyes), and pushed herself back upright. ¡°It¡¯s the Godsday special. The number ten.¡± Ada smirked as though expecting them to catch on to a small joke. ¡°Most folks can handle it. Though from what I¡¯ve seen today, I think Vezz¨®n must have given it some extra kick this morning.¡± She punctuated ¡®kick¡¯ with a flick of her hair; it moved all by itself. Kate saw that the blue streaks in it shimmered faintly with bioluminescence in the twilight. ¡°Lady Wings?¡± asked Liz, not appearing to trust herself with saying anything more. ¡°One of the Ladies. You know, Lady Fires, Lady Chains, the rest. I¡¯m partial to Lady Paths, myself. She¡¯s been here, you know. Eaten at this very establishment!¡± She swelled with professional pride. ¡°I didn¡¯t serve her, but I was on duty. I cleaned up all her dust.¡± ¡°Why is she called Lady Wings?¡± asked Kate. ¡°You know,¡± said Ada, tapping her cheek, ¡°I¡¯ve never been able to figure it out. Maybe it¡¯s her eyes? Maybe¡­her hair?¡± She spoke the last word with a flourish of her own hair, which flurried about her in a quick, elegant dance, the blue-glowing streaks swirling in the dim illumination. Liz began to stand, sat down, then gripped the table and tried again. This time, she succeeded. ¡°And they¡­are at that place?¡± She pointed in a direction that wasn¡¯t really anywhere close to the fortress, but she quickly corrected herself. ¡°Skywater Citadel? Of course. The Lords and Ladies rule Skywater from there. Where are you from?¡± ¡°Hey!¡± said Kate as she suddenly realized that Ada had been sarcastic to her. ¡°Sphisisysus,¡± said Liz. ¡°Damn. And Theia. Come on, Kate.¡± Liz began an arduous journey toward the stairs. ¡°We¡¯d better get¡­going.¡± ¡°Sisyphus?¡± said Ada. ¡°Theia? How¡­strange.¡± A cord of her hair reached out and steadied Liz as she struggled past. ¡°Thank you, Ada,¡± said Kate. She slipped out of her chair and followed Liz. ¡°You are beautiful and your hair is beautiful. Heh heh. That sounded like Jim. Just¡­flirting with everybody but not knowing it. Heh.¡± The Theians appeared by their sides to help Liz and Kate down through the caf¨¦ and out onto the street. Everything looked different now, and it was still getting darker. The colorful stars jostled each other overhead, and lanterns in many shades filled the street below as if in imitation. Liz and Kate threw their arms around each other for support and reeled up the street, guided by the Theians. Shlushluth and Thlytri talked about the city, pointed things out to each other and occasionally guided the pair of humans. Flitch darted about, an orange and green blur that flittered around everything they passed. Jeno seemed more interested in Liz and Kate than in the city, so she stayed close to listen. Liz, at one point, tried to chase down a cat so she could pet it. It was, of course, much too quick. ¡°¡­and that¡¯s how I met Absolem,¡± said Kate after they¡¯d been making headway for a few minutes. Skywater Citadel was looming near ahead when something caught Kate¡¯s attention. One of the buildings they lurched past looked constructed of organ pipes, and it rang in a delightful, mysterious harmony as countless wind chimes around its eaves stirred in the warm night breeze. It looked vaguely like a church or a cathedral, apart from appearing to be composed entirely of metal tubes, and a golden glow issued from within the yawning entrance to this peculiar structure. A figure emerged from amid the tubes and made straight for the two of them. The figure looked hunched, and it shuffled forward in a slow gait, but it still reared to a formidable two meters in height. It was entirely wrapped in a dark gold-trimmed mantle of loosely overlapping metal scales. These scales rang together with every step the imposing figure took. Like the eerie chiming of the building beyond, the music thus produced created an aura of mystery and dread as the cloaked figure approached. The combination of mystery, music, and the imposing stature of this individual worked powerfully on the foggy minds of Kate and Liz. It stopped before them, and for a long moment there was neither movement nor sound from either party¨Conly the gentle, eerie chiming from the strange building. Then it spoke. Its voice was a hoarse, piercing whisper. ¡°What brings you, Heroes, to the temple of the Thunder God?¡± Kate opened her mouth to speak, but found that she didn¡¯t know any words. Liz¡¯s arm tightened around her shoulder. The Theians fluttered down around them, and Shlushluth at last spoke. ¡°The Thunder God?¡± ¡°The Great One. The Stormwalker. The Resolute. The Immovable.¡± With each title, the mysterious figure twitched the metal cloak enshrouding it to produce a ringing chord that reinforced her words. ¡°We¡­¡± said Liz, and her fingers dug into Kate¡¯s shoulder almost hard enough to hurt. ¡°We¡¯re¡­going to the¡­the citadel.¡± The figure nodded. ¡°Of course,¡± it rasped. ¡°I will take you there.¡± ¡°That¡­that¡¯s not¡­necessary,¡± said Liz, her voice shrinking to a tiny squeak at the end. ¡°It is,¡± replied the figure. ¡°For I am Lady Chimes, and I must be present at the Council.¡± Kate suddenly started giggling, although really it didn¡¯t seem very funny. Chapter 39 Chapter 39 Eric A trail of color marked the way to Jimothy Whyte in splashes and splatterings that often looked uncomfortably like blood except for the coloration. They didn¡¯t even need to try Isaac¡¯s idea of triangulation, which, to be fair, had been a pretty clever idea. The trail led to the docks, just outside the splash zone of the color-hurricane. Eric and Isaac could tell they were nearing the sea when the sound of the surf washing against the wharfs and the crying of sea birds began to underline the ambient bustle and clamor of the city. Eric thought he could smell it, but given the olfactory extravaganza this city continued to assault him with, that smell might have been anything. He peeked around a corner at the building which terminated the trail of color. It was a big, plain cinderblock of a building, aesthetically suitable for use only as a prison, warehouse, or power plant. A few windows and a gaping square aperture on one side lent credence to the warehouse theory. If it was some kind of base of operations for Xeon, and if Xeon were some kind of gang or mafia as the Scottish Muppet had implied, then they sure didn¡¯t seem tight on security. People milled about in the wide street in front, and some of them wandered into the darkness of the loading bay. ¡°Is it a front?¡± he wondered out loud. ¡°Or do they just not give a shit? Isaac what the hell, just tell them no.¡± Isaac, behind him, had his hands up in an effort to fend off a half dozen bright green and blue striped serpents, each four to five feet long, which swam weightlessly through the air. They poked their noses at a floating red cube the size of a fist, nudging it toward Isaac. They wanted to play fetch. Isaac had made the mistake of throwing the cube for them once, three blocks back, and they had been bothering him ever since. ¡°No!¡± said Isaac. He batted away the cube as they pushed it toward him. It was a weak hit, but it sent the cube spinning up at an angle over the street. The snakes became greenish streaks as they darted toward it. They captured it in seconds, writhing and squirming around each other in midair, fighting for possession as they herded it back to Isaac. ¡°Isaac. Bro.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not my fault!¡± ¡°Jim¡¯s been grabbed by the mafia and you¡¯re playing fetch? C¡¯mon man.¡± Eric shook his head in disdain. The snakes interpreted Isaac¡¯s increasingly frantic efforts to get rid of them as part of the game. They only became more animated as he waved his arms. Eric turned his attention back to the warehouse. The last visible spot of Jim¡¯s color trail was an angular green splatter right beside a plain, unobtrusive metal door into the building. This splatter was made obvious by the person in a khaki suit and straw hat who squatted down next to it and was trying unsuccessfully to scrub it off. He¡¯d been at it for a few minutes now and was getting frustrated. Eric turned back to Isaac. ¡°For real though, we need to¡­¡± ¡°To what? Fight a bunch of thugs? Is that your plan?¡± Isaac, really getting annoyed now by the snakes, grabbed the rubbery cube out of the air. Then, just like that, it was gone. The snakes rapidly slowed to a stop, staring at the place it had been. Then, as one, each of them looked in a different direction. They swiveled their heads, scouting for where it could have gone. One of them slithered forward and prodded at the sleeve of Isaac¡¯s black and purple spacesuit, checking for sleight of hand. ¡°Nice,¡± said Eric. ¡°Where¡¯d you put it?¡± Isaac shrugged as the serpent nosed around his upraised forearm. ¡°Now we need a plan,¡± said Eric. ¡°Let¡¯s get a little closer.¡± They left the puzzled serpents behind. Isaac followed Eric as he threaded through the crowd. Eric took them to a group of bystanders clustered around some merchant directly across the street from the open loading bay of the warehouse. ¡°Woah,¡± said Isaac, ¡°is this where Heidi¡¯s angel bit you?¡± Eric felt his right wrist grabbed and held up. ¡°Yeah,¡± he said, but the merchant distracted him from elaborating. The merchant, dressed in bright blue, was singing in a way that made him sound like a garbage disposal on auto tune. Eric could have earplugs from mist, but that might draw attention. He hadn¡¯t yet seen anyone else walking around with magic conjuring coasters. ¡°Hey,¡± he said to Isaac. Eric slapped him on the shoulder to break Isaac out of his disbelieving fixation on the music. ¡°Don¡¯t make anything with your coaster. Not where people can see it. We¡¯ll try this low-profile.¡± ¡°Low profile,¡± muttered Isaac as he craned to see the merchant. ¡°And I was just about to make a periscope to see what the heck that guy¡¯s selling.¡± ¡°Prob¡¯ly a new Christmas album,¡± said Eric. Isaac hacked with laughter, then spread his hands headliner-style. ¡°Banana Quest: the Soundtrack!¡± He spoke in an old-timey B-movie-narrator voice. Now it was Eric¡¯s turn to laugh. But only for a moment. He smacked Isaac again, harder than before. ¡°Serious.¡± ¡°Serious,¡± agreed Isaac. He regarded at Eric with an expression of utter gravity. It lasted only a second before a smile broke it up and he snickered. Eric exercised patience, suppressing the urge to really slug the skinny nerd in front of him. This had always been the way with Isaac. Isaac took a deep breath, calming himself. Then, as if by magic, he really was serious. ¡°So. Jim.¡± ¡°Yeah. Jim. Pretty sure he¡¯s in there.¡± Eric was careful not to nod or gesture toward the warehouse. They were in clear view of anyone who might be watching. Isaac, however, glanced over at it when Eric spoke. ¡°Don¡¯t look at it,¡± Eric whispered through clenched teeth. ¡°Bro, lots of people are looking at it.¡± ¡°Whatever. What¡¯s the plan?¡± Eric hated to admit it, but Isaac had always been the one with the plan. The one with too many plans, most of the time. ¡°Well,¡± said Isaac as he readjusted the helmet under his arm, ¡°he might not be there. That place might just be the entrance to an underground tunnel. Or maybe he left out the back. We haven¡¯t seen the back.¡± ¡°But we know he went in,¡± said Eric. ¡°Right. But he could be, like, anywhere. Without Hazel or any of our angels, our best bet is probably to try to find out from someone in there.¡± ¡°Wonder where the hell they went,¡± said Eric. He feigned nonchalance, but secretly he was worried. What if little Frisby, mission accomplished, disappeared forever? Isaac, who didn¡¯t seem to have as much attachment to his own angel, just shrugged. Eric nodded slowly. ¡°So¡­¡± ¡°So I¡¯ll go in there,¡± said Isaac, ¡°and ask. Who knows? Maybe they¡¯ll have something to say. We still don¡¯t know why they took him, right? We need to get an idea about that first of all. And if that doesn¡¯t work, I just walk away and we¡¯ll think of something else. I can see some of them right inside that door, right in the open, so it should be pretty safe. And if they do turn out, uh, unfriendly, then you come make a distraction and we¡¯ll make like a banana and split.¡± ¡°Make like a tree and get the fuck out of there,¡± said Eric. He thought for a moment. ¡°Okay,¡± he said, ¡°but it¡¯ll be me going in there, not you.¡± ¡°Why?¡± ¡°¡®Cause you¡¯ll fuck it up. And you¡¯ll be better at distracting them if things go south.¡± Isaac didn¡¯t argue. Instead, he reached out and took something from the air that hadn¡¯t been there the second before. It was the red cube. ¡°Huh,¡± he said in surprise. ¡°So that¡¯s where it was.¡± ¡°Where?¡± ¡°On the Void Station,¡± said Isaac. He frowned at it. It was gone, as abruptly as it had come. He held up the helmet that he¡¯d been awkwardly cradling under his other arm for the past few minutes, and it vanished as well. ¡°Yeah,¡± he said with a growing smile, ¡°I think I can come up with a distraction or two.¡± He looked down at Eric. ¡°Got any time powers?¡± Eric tapped the headphones around his neck. ¡°Only with music playing. Kind-of. So far.¡± ¡°Music?¡± ¡°Yeah I can like, change the tempo and shit. Of myself. Or everything else. I just visualize a metronome.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Heartbeats.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry bro,¡± said Isaac. ¡°I bet you¡¯ll figure it out¡­in time.¡± ¡°Okay, I think we¡¯re done here.¡± ¡°I second that.¡± ¡°C¡¯mon bro, that was so fucking weak it hurt.¡± ¡°Now¡¯s hour chance. Hehe. Oh.¡± Isaac looked above and behind Eric. ¡°That¡¯s what he¡¯s selling.¡± Eric turned to follow Isaac¡¯s gaze. A huge dragonfly two feet long, its gleaming iridescent carapace glinting in the cloudlight, buzzed overhead. It was carrying something, a trained giant dragonfly doing tricks or something, responding to the god-awful singing that Eric had been ignoring for the past couple of minutes. It zigged and zagged in the air with sporadic precision. And somehow, though the term ¡®dragonfly¡¯ had never been anything more than a random nickname, it reminded him of Leah. A hand fell on his shoulder. He tensed before realizing it must be Isaac. ¡°Uh, you know¡­¡± said Isaac. Eric knew that tone. Isaac was trying to be for-real serious about something. A rare occasion, and one which warranted attention. He kept his eyes on the darting dragonfly, but listened. Isaac took his time, but at last he just said, ¡°You don¡¯t have to catch them alone.¡± The hand left his shoulder after that. Classic Isaac, with the fucking cheeseball one-liners. Trying to be a writer. Well. That one hadn¡¯t been too bad, actually. In spite of himself, Eric felt a warmth in his chest at the thought of someone else in that dream of his, helping to catch the falling kids. ¡°You¡¯re getting some muscle, you know that?¡± said Isaac. ¡°You been working out?¡± Eric shrugged. Again, classic Isaac. Ruining the moment. ¡°Is it because of Liz?¡± asked Isaac. Eric turned to the warehouse without looking at Isaac. ¡°I¡¯m going in. You know what to do.¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah. And if you die¡­¡± ¡°Die with honor,¡± Eric muttered. He shrugged again, this time in order to feel the sword resting against his sweaty back. The old silliness about dying with honor didn¡¯t seem like such a funny joke anymore. He set out across the street to the warehouse. He walked naturally. This was just another street in Chicago. Those were just some regular people he had questions for. Had they seen that shit with the colors? Crazy. Knew anything about that? How about some distracted kid with a cane and probably paint all over himself? Like that. Nice and casual. He paused at the huge square aperture in the side of the building to get a look at what lay within. A warehouse indeed, mostly empty, the size of a basketball court. This space looked like it took up only a third of the building. Stacks of crates rose in one corner, a pile of sacks in another. Skylights lit the interior, filtering the light from outside. Most of the dirt floor was empty save for scattered boxes, broken pallets, random bottles, scraps of paper. A couple guys moved crates around in the back and a few more people who had clearly wandered in off the street were talking to someone about the sacks. That left a furry sleeping creature that Eric thought might have been a mongoose, some small bluish ratlike animals skittering fearlessly around on the dirt, and a group of men seated in the dust in the middle of the room. Six of them, it looked like, and ¡®men¡¯ might not have been the most accurate term for them. ¡®Human¡¯ fell pretty damn short too, in some cases. They were drinking, smoking, laughing, and¨Cpiquing Eric¡¯s interest¨Cfocused on a game of cards. They were variously armed, but their demeanor was not threatening. They were relaxed. Just chilling. And as Isaac had said, they were in clear view of the busy street outside. He edged closer to observe their game, trying to look like a curious bystander, just some kind of tourist. Jacob had told him about the cards used here, which was cool because Eric liked card games. They had a style that he approved of. A deck of cards here came in six suits of twelve. The suits were hearts, blooms, brushes, ways, boxes, snow. Each suit had numbers one through ten, plus a lady and a lord. Seventy-two. Each suit also had a fool, which was not always used in games, bringing the total to seventy-eight. The thing about the fools was that they always looked different from the other cards, even on the back. In a game where you had a private hand, there was no hiding the fact that you held a fool. The fools featured prominently in the game these six were playing. Eric watched as they took turns asking the others whether they had a certain card. If the answer was no, they traded two cards of the questioner¡¯s choice. It soon became clear to Eric that he would not comprehend the goal of this game unless someone told him, so instead he noted the players. Two of them looked human from what he could tell: a skinny black man who squinted at everything through coke-bottle glasses that enlarged his eyes, and a pale heavyset man who kept stroking his long scraggly goatee and who wore what looked like a yellow firefighter¡¯s coat in defiance of the heat. The black man took periodic swigs from a flask at his side, and the goatee man puffed on a red cigar, the crimson smoke of which smelled musky and sweet. The young woman with a knit green beanie had fine yellow scales instead of skin; her slit golden eyes flickered around between the other players, never still. The smallest player looked like a two-foot-tall haystack made of sticky notes, little more than a pile of blank fragments of brightly colored paper. Eric only assumed it was a player because a hand of cards levitated in front of it, the others addressed it with familiar disinterest, and it spoke in hoarse whisper when making its own demands. (¡°Keppeth¡­seven of snow¡­¡±) That left the hulking brute of a creature that looked like a seven-foot blue Godzilla with four arms, and the tall, lean man with a head that looked exactly like an entire living crab just sitting there on top of a classy pink and white pinstripe suit while white-gloved hands deftly alternated between handling cards and lazily spinning a dagger between its fingers. They were betting something called drops, which looked like jagged pieces of glass the size of marbles. A heap of drops lay in the center. Eric was trying to figure out how a game of complicated go-fish could be betting matter when it suddenly came to a resolution. ¡°A great day for fools, I suppose,¡± said the scaly woman. They all nodded and grunted in assent. Eric noticed that each of them had one of the six fools in their hand. The complex geometric patterns on the back of the fool cards were red rather than blue-green like the rest. ¡°Fools!¡± the scaly woman declared. Her slit eyes darted wildly. ¡°I stood on a mountain beneath the dark moon.¡± With these words, she slapped half of her hand down onto the dust. Everyone else leaned over to get a look as she carefully placed her fool (the fool of boxes) halfway over one of the seven cards. ¡°Ha!¡± said Godzilla, his voice a deep rumble. ¡°Fool. I watched silver seas crawl under a blood sky.¡± He laid his own cards down and positioned his fool, all while idly scoring deep grooves in the hard-packed dirt with the claws on his two extra hands. Goatee man groaned. He dropped his whole hand facedown onto the dirt. ¡°Gods damn me for a fool.¡± He chewed on the red cigar in frustration and puffed a nimbus of smoke down at his inadequate cards. The skinny man with the glasses was next. ¡°By de ten, yer a fool,¡± he declared as he slapped down his hand with such force that a shockwave of dust rose. ¡°I came fer de drink and stayed fer yer mother!¡± He cackled with laughter, displaying a mouthful of berry-blue teeth, and several of the others joined in with his burst of merriment. He took a celebratory gulp from his flask. The pile of paper fluttered and sighed, a sound like wind through dry leaves. The cards in its hand came together, then drifted to the ground in a neat stack, face-down. ¡°I¡¯m a fool,¡± it said. Everyone looked at Crab-head. If his expression was readable, Eric had no clue in hell what it might be. The well-dressed crustacean took pleasure in drawing out the suspense. The yellow-scaled woman and the black man leaned close. Finally, the crab spoke in a smooth, polished, faintly British voice. ¡°You lot are a mangy pack of thrice-cursed fools.¡± It flicked the dagger high up into the air without a glance. ¡°I heard the stones laugh on a sunny day.¡± Its gloved hands smoothly spread its cards on the dirt. As soon as it placed its fool, with fastidious precision, the dagger came down and struck that card directly through, pinning it to the earth. The others, after a moment of evaluating Crab-head¡¯s hand, groaned and dropped the rest of their cards in front of them. Eric wasn¡¯t close enough to see exactly what that hand was, but he spotted a few face cards. Crab-head shoveled the heap of glassy drops toward him with satisfaction. Yellow-scales clapped him on the back in a show of sportsmanship, while the huge pale man with the goatee protested about one of his cards having a dagger-hole in it. (¡°It¡¯s only a fool,¡± Crab-head replied.) ¡°You there,¡± grumbled the Godzilla like a distant volcanic eruption. ¡°Come for a game?¡± Eric realized with a start that it was speaking to him. ¡°Five drop buy-in,¡± rasped the pile of paper. ¡°Eh, give ¡®im a break, eh? ¡®e¡¯s a right young gennelman!¡± said the black man. He adjusted his glasses and squinted through them at Eric. ¡°Make it tree. By de gods, make it free.¡± He chuckled, showing his blue smile. ¡°You are ten pints of crazy in a one-pint cup,¡± said yellow-scales, glaring at him with slit eyes, ¡°if you think we¡¯ll let an outsider take your place on the fourth round.¡± ¡°Already got six,¡± muttered the pale man in the fireman¡¯s jacket as he examined the wounded card. The mongoose-thing Eric had seen earlier climbed onto his shoulder. He reached up to scratch it. ¡°Who¡¯s dropping out? Or shall we try it with seven?¡± The black man rocked back, laughing. ¡°Let us try!¡± ¡°Not in a red million, godseeker,¡± protested Yellow-scales, almost shouting. She leaned forward as though ready to leap to her feet. ¡°Now, now,¡± said Crab-head, finally finished safely stowing his drops in a drawstring bag. ¡°Let the lad speak.¡± He stood smoothly, turned as though on a swivel, and stepped forward to lay a hand on Eric¡¯s shoulder. ¡°What are you here for, boy? Surely not to play cards with a pack of fools?¡± Eric could only stare at the stalk-eyes, the twitching crab legs, the flat crustacean-shell of a head, and swallow. ¡°Uh¡­¡± How in the hell was this guy speaking? The yellow-scaled woman was watching him with her big golden eyes. She might have been pretty if she hadn¡¯t looked so pissed-off. Her scales gave him the spark of an idea. ¡°I¡¯m looking for a dragon,¡± he said. ¡°Just a little one. White. Goes by ¡®Frisby.¡¯ Seen him?¡± He had their attention now. The word ¡®dragon¡¯ had stopped them all, and now they watched him curiously. The Godzilla glanced around as if expecting to find such a dragon in the immediate vicinity. So they were curious about a dragon, but not alarmed enough for him to have said something really stupid. Good. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. ¡°Frisby?¡± asked the pile of colored paper. It stirred, fluttered, ascended in a rapidly spinning column, and took the shape of a hollow papier - mach¨¦ mannequin about the size of Heidi. ¡°Yeah,¡± said Eric, a little surprised and impressed by how he suddenly felt confidence rushing through him. He could do this. ¡°And there was a kid with him. About my age.¡± He paused on the verge of naming Jimothy. If he knew Jim¡¯s name, and if they had taken him prisoner of hostage or whatever, it could implicate him, make him a target. But if he was simply looking for that kid with the cane, out of mere curiosity¡­ ¡°This kid, he had, like, a cane. And there was a dog too.¡± Goatee-man made the cards vanish and stroked his goatee, then said, ¡°He must be referring to Niri¡¯s abductor.¡± The Godzilla growled in response, possibly in anger. ¡°Wasn¡¯t he one of the six Heroes?¡± asked Yellow-scales. ¡°Bit of a mistake there, from what I heard,¡± said Crab-head. ¡°Ain¡¯ dat why de whole market district awash wit colors like de Laughing God himself step on it?¡± asked Blue-teeth with a hoot of laughter. ¡°Do we know he took her?¡± said Yellow-scales. ¡°I was there,¡± rumbled the Godzilla. ¡°Saw it.¡± ¡°Sarissa has confirmed she is dead,¡± added the humanoid pi?ata. ¡°It matter?¡± asked Blue-teeth. ¡°We be fucked for sure if Lord Fierce come down on us.¡± At these words Yellow-scales shivered and bit her lip with sharp teeth, and Goatee man nervously adjusted the collar of his fireman¡¯s jacket. ¡°So, uh, you¡¯ve seen him?¡± asked Eric. ¡°You know where he is? The dragon, I mean.¡± He kept himself from flinching as they all turned back to him. ¡°Haven¡¯t seen any dragon,¡± said Crab-head. ¡°But if you¡¯re looking for the boy, you¡¯d better speak to the Lockbreaker.¡± ¡°He in?¡± asked Blue-teeth. Crab-head nodded in response. ¡°Well then,¡± said Eric with a smile. ¡°Guess I¡¯ll have to talk to the Lockbreaker. That cool?¡± ¡°You are new here,¡± said Crab-head. ¡°Do you even know to whom you speak?¡± ¡°¡­no,¡± Eric admitted, suddenly cautious. ¡°We are of Xeon,¡± said Crab-head. ¡°We do not generally¨C¡± ¡°What dat sword you got dere?¡± interrupted Blue-teeth. He squinted through the thick lenses of his glasses, his dark eyes comically enlarged. Sword? Eric reached a hand back up to touch the hilt of the sword sticking up from his back. ¡°Please, Jalek,¡± said the Crab-head. ¡°Your habit of interru¨C¡± ¡°It do look like de¨C¡± Jalek himself was interrupted by a floating red cube that came spinning in from somewhere off to the side. It cut off Blue-teeth¡¯s sentence as it tumbled through the air over their cards and bumped into Pi?ata-man, where it rebounded. There was a moment of general befuddlement before the flying serpents came. There were more of them now, as many as a dozen, all squirming through the air as they fought over the red cube. ¡°What¡¯re these bastards doing here?¡± muttered Goatee-man. ¡°Go on! Shoo!¡± But the cube bobbed around in the air, dodging the serpents. His small furry pet scuttled around on his broad shoulders and hissed at the serpentine newcomers. Jalek laughed and took another swig from his bottle. Yellow-scales cast her gaze about warily, ignoring the serpents. Crab-head simply watched, his expression unreadable. The Godzilla waved away the snakes in his face as though shooing off annoying flies. The paper man watched the cube, and Eric realized that he was the one moving it, keeping it from the snakes. Water abruptly poured down from above. It came not like rain, but as a solid column that dropped and struck the ground with such force that the splash washed Yellow-scales and Blue-teeth right off their asses. They tumbled away several feet, carried by the ongoing torrent. Blue Godzilla sat unmoved, and the water parted around Pi?ata-man as though striking invisible walls. The water kept pouring, a cascade several feet across, enough volume that it would fill the warehouse within a minute if the place were sealed tight. The noise of it was at least as shocking as its sudden appearance. Bright yellow fish tumbled down in the dozens and flopped desperately when the spreading water had carried them far enough that they could no longer swim. Some of the snakes, startled by the column of water, abandoned the cube to investigate the helpless fish. The surprise appearance of this mysterious deluge caught everyone off-guard. Eric stood far enough away that the water merely washed over his shoes, and like everyone else, he gaped in bewilderment. But only for a moment. Eric realized with a start that this must be Isaac¡¯s distraction. What the fuck? They¡¯d just been talking! But maybe Isaac knew something Eric didn¡¯t. These card-players had confirmed one thing: the Lockbreaker led to Jim, and the Lockbreaker was here. It was no problem at all to hurry to one of the side doors that led deeper into the warehouse and slip through while Crab-head and the others were distracted. He heard a voice as he was leaving¨CIsaac¡¯s voice, somehow amplified. ¡°Water you doing down there? Hope you¡¯re not all washed up!¡± God dammit, Isaac. Eric hurried through the mostly empty corridors, his shoes sloshing with each step. He checked every room as he passed. Office, locker room, storage, storage, restroom, computerized security, office¡­ Almost nothing was locked, and everything looked empty. Eric got the impression that this place was a front. Security seemed nonexistent, and he saw no one. If this Xeon were a gang in the traditional sense, then there was no way this was anything like a real headquarters. Hell, this was probably a regular old warehouse that they just rented some storage from. He opened a door, looked in, began to close it again out of habit, then paused. He stepped into the room and tried to understand what he was seeing. This room had stuff in it: a couch, a desk, a bookshelf, a pile of rubble dividing it in two. But the walls were all painted. ¡°Oh, hey Eric! Hi!¡± The voice was Jimothy¡¯s, but it took Eric a moment to locate him. This was because Jimothy was up by the ceiling, facing it at a distance of a few feet, lying on his back on some kind of narrow platform like a stretcher. His head hung down to look upside down at Eric. He had a big grin on his face. That grin caused a wave of relief to wash over Eric. ¡°Jim. Bro. What up?¡± Eric peered up at the stretcher holding Jim close to the ceiling. ¡°For real, though. What are you doing up there?¡± ¡°Uh. Just painting.¡± The stretcher lowered Jimothy to the floor, where it tipped up and set Jimothy upright before vanishing. Jimothy almost fell, naturally, but steadied himself on a glowing light in the air that also disappeared after a moment. Most of Jimothy was splattered with something black. And he just stood there with his innocent grin. ¡°What¡­¡± So many questions. Eric availed himself of the nearest chair and sat in it to pull off his soaked shoes and socks while he decided what question to lead with. ¡°What are you doing here? We thought you¡¯d been kidnapped or some shit.¡± He wrung out his socks into the dusty red carpet. ¡°Well, I guess I was,¡± said Jimothy. He looked uncomfortable. ¡°And maybe I kind-of deserved it. But they were really nice to me after I talked to Leo.¡± ¡°Leo?¡± ¡°The Lockbreaker. He said there was a mistake. So he put me in here and told me to wait.¡± Jim spread his hands to indicate the walls and half-painted ceiling. ¡°So I¡¯ve been painting!¡± Eric stood and scanned the walls. He saw no paint anywhere, not even on Jim¡¯s hands, and the color on the walls, though vibrant and fresh, was not wet. One of the murals showed Heidi back-to-back with a tall pale man in a broad hat. Heidi had a weird gun of some kind and the other guy had two revolvers that¨Cnow wait just a fucking minute. Was that Abraham Black? (eyes smokestacks, skin blistered candlewax) Eric thought back to what he and Heidi had seen in the Museum. The painting on the wall looked¡­sort of like him? Black and Heidi stood in a place of red and purple angles and dark shadows. They both had their own shadows, cast by some pink lighting. Heidi¡¯s was a many-legged serpentine form. Black¡¯s was¨Coh, there. That was the monster Eric had seen in the vision. There it was, a shadow somehow made of deeper darkness, a darkness that piled up thick and heavy, that made the surrounding shadows bright and fragile by comparison. Heidi and Black were aiming their weapons at something unseen beyond the scope of the mural. A blood-red snake curled and twisted around their feet as though tying them together. Eric wanted to ask what the fuck this painting meant, but he already knew Jim wouldn¡¯t be able to tell him. Thinking that he might not have time to survey them all, Eric slid his phone out of his pocket and photographed every mural in sight. Heidi and Abraham Black. Another mural showed five bizarre figures seated on equally strange chairs, and Eric at once recognized Lord Fool. Another showed a huge wolf taller than the trees, all colorless save for something purple staining the wolf¡¯s claws. The part of the ceiling that Jim had painted showed something he¡¯d seen before: a world with six moons. Beyond the moons, two other worlds, black and white. Beyond those, the stars like colorful gems. ¡°Remarkable,¡± said a voice behind him. That voice was like black oil, rich and smooth and dark. It was a voice that would be set for life as a voice actor on Earth, even if it only read nutrition labels. The newcomer was a shadow, a vaguely humanoid haze of gloom that stood just inside the door. It was a large shape, tall and broad, and it seemed to wear a hat, though that too was only a greasy haze like a smudge on Eric¡¯s vision. The figure was insubstantial enough that Eric could see part of the doorframe behind it as it stepped noiselessly into the room. Behind it came a slender figure in a matte-black jumpsuit and a shiny dark helmet that reflected everything like an eerie eye. There was something a little dangerous about that one. It¨Cwait. Fuck, that was just Isaac. When had Isaac started looking even remotely cool? A couple more shapes entered after Isaac, apparently too cool for the third dimension. They slid along the walls, literal shadows independent of a light source to create them. Yet it was obvious whose shadows they were. ¡°Leocanto,¡± said the vague dark haze in the air. That voice came from the shadows on the walls as well as the figure itself in an unnerving stereo effect. ¡°They also call me the Lockbreaker. I respond to either.¡± God damn, that voice. It was the ultimate evolution of masculine suavity, rendered in basso profundo. It was unnatural. It was almost a physical pressure. Eric¡¯s own shadow was under his feet, but Isaac¡¯s was against the wall. One of the independent shadows that had entered the room moved through Isaac¡¯s shadow, and Eric saw Isaac lean to one side as though a pressure had been applied against him. Then Isaac shivered violently. His helmet hissed, unlatched, and he took it off his head. It promptly vanished. ¡°Isaac!¡± said Jim. ¡°Please,¡± said the smoldering molasses voice of Leocanto Lockbreaker. ¡°Make yourselves comfortable.¡± Jimothy obediently did as he was told and took a seat on the couch. Eric hesitated only a moment. The aura of don¡¯t-fuck-with-me was mighty strong with the Lockbreaker. He paused to brush some debris off the couch before sitting down beside Jim. Isaac came to stand by them a moment later. ¡°I see you have taken certain architectural liberties with my warehouse,¡± said the Lockbreaker, observing the pile of rubble. There had been a wall there at some point. One of the living shadows stepped over to have a look. The other distractedly tapped the shadow of a vase that sat on the desk. The vase itself wobbled. Eric swallowed, but tried not to make it obvious. ¡°Sorry,¡± said Jimothy. ¡°I¡­uh, I wasn¡¯t paying attention.¡± ¡°Indeed.¡± There was a trace of amusement in the Lockbreaker¡¯s voice. ¡°What cell could we have put you in, I wonder, had we actually desired to detain you?¡± He paused for a moment. ¡°You are Eric Walker and Isaac Milton,¡± he said. It was almost, but not quite, a question. ¡°It seems that Xeon, which is to say, that I, have made a mistake.¡± Eric swallowed again. ¡°Please explain,¡± he said. He could not put any composure, defiance, or aloofness in his tone. In fact, his voice cracked. He didn¡¯t fucking care. He wanted to get the hell away from this shadow man as soon as possible. ¡°I shall.¡± At this point, two more people entered the room. One was Crab-head, his pinstripe pants almost completely soaked. His literally-just-an-entire-crab head was dripping wet as well, but he probably didn¡¯t mind that. He was twirling a knife in his gloved fingers, making it dance with unnerving ease. The other newcomer was a tall creature with pale, scaly skin and delicate lines of purple and blue all over her body. There was something about her that made Eric think of her as a female, though she wore no shirt and had no discernible feminine features. Maybe it was her long silver hair. Her lower jaw was golden, her eyes were solid silver, and she looked pissed as all hell. Another shadow slid along the wall after them and closed the door. It mockingly saluted one of the other shadows across the room, which gave an elaborate bow in response. The third shadow had moved somewhere behind Eric, and he had to forcibly control himself to not turn around and try to locate it. ¡°Your friend Jimothy took our young adept Niri to his world, where she met an untimely demise,¡± said the Lockbreaker in his mesmerizing voice. ¡°From what we can tell, your friend is hardly at fault.¡± The hazy Lockbreaker gestured vaguely at the mural on the wall showing the giant wolf. The lady with the pale skin hissed softly in anger. ¡°We¡­borrowed him to ascertain the truth of this matter,¡± the shadow continued. ¡°We were not involved with that mess in the market square. And should any of the Lords or Ladies inquire, you shall inform them that Xeon treated the Heroes with the utmost courtesy. Is it not so, Jimothy Whyte?¡± Jimothy nodded with a smile, by all appearances utterly unfazed by the palpable aura of danger around the Lockbreaker that made sweat bead on Eric¡¯s neck and palms. ¡°Yeah,¡± said Jim. A faint growl came from the silver-haired creature. ¡°We have no wish to incur their wrath,¡± continued that hypnotic voice. ¡°And besides, we have no love either for the Dark World. And I know well your task. In fact, the time may come when Xeon aids you in it.¡± Silver-hair opened her mouth to speak in evident anger, but the Lockbreaker cut her off. ¡°I am aware of your feelings on this matter, Sarissa. Your daughter¡¯s fate is regrettable. But it was the work of a Guardian.¡± Again he made a vague gesture toward the painting of the wolf. The purple stain on its claws suddenly took on a new meaning for Eric; he recalled Jim alluding to someone dying in the group chat. One of the moving shadows was investigating the painting. It reached out and traced a slender finger along the wolf¡¯s nose, then carefully sniffed the finger. ¡°I will say this to our young friends¨Cfriends, Sarissa, to ease you.¡± The shadow stepped in closer to the three of them, and Eric felt the menace of his presence press in stronger than ever. ¡°Should you knowingly harm another member of Xeon¡­well. The possibilities of a rather substantial creativity still my clumsy tongue. Yet I can assure you, Lady Shadows will be¨C¡± The hazy form of Leocanto Lockbreaker turned to the door. The ground beneath their feet shook faintly. Eric felt that he had to say something, so he said, ¡°We understand.¡± His voice was dry. ¡°Good,¡± said the Lockbreaker, but he was not paying attention. Another second, and a man burst through the door, panting. He looked every bit the normal middle-aged human in plain business clothes. He bowed swiftly to the Lockbreaker and then spoke in a rush. ¡°Darkworld agents, sir. South side. Numbers unknown. Rank unknown. But they¡¯re a strike force. Here for the Hero, I think.¡± He glanced at Jim. ¡°That was swift indeed,¡± said the Lockbreaker. ¡°Stall the agents; identify them if possible. I will be there shortly.¡± The man rushed off. The floor shook again, more violently. Some dust sifted down from the broken wall. Distant shouting sounded faintly. ¡°How did they know?¡± wondered the Lockbreaker out loud. ¡°Who could have¡­Ah. Sarissa.¡± He turned to the pale-skinned creature. His two shadows walked casually over to hers. One of the shadows playfully tipped a hat; the other jived to some beat as it walked, snapping silent fingers. ¡°Could you truly be so foolish?¡± Crab-head started to move toward her, but the third shadow was there next to his, placing a hand on the shoulder of Crab-head¡¯s shadow, stilling him. Sarissa bared her teeth, though they weren¡¯t very tooth-like. ¡°Where is the Leo I knew?¡± she hissed at him. ¡°The vengeance of the Lockbreaker was feared once.¡± The Lockbreaker sighed. One of his shadows twisted its arm. The shadow hand became a sharp point, and with a simple thrust it shoved this point through the chest of Sarissa¡¯s shadow. Sarissa gasped and doubled over, silver eyes wide. The wound appeared in her stomach as though she had been stabbed by an invisible spear. ¡°No need to waste breath on argument,¡± muttered the smooth, rich voice of the Lockbreaker. ¡°A pity, though.¡± Sarissa twitched and fell to the floor. A purplish stain began to mar the red carpet beneath her. The watching shadow, the one without a deadly arm, doffed its hat and held it melodramatically to its chest as though in mourning. Eric tore his gaze from the dying creature and turned to Jim, who was watching in horror, eyes wide, mouth open. ¡°Don¡¯t look, Jim,¡± muttered Isaac. ¡°One of the Ladies has arrived,¡± said the faintly British voice of Crab-head, apparently undisturbed by the stabbing. ¡°Lady Chains, I believe.¡± ¡°By the Ten,¡± said the Lockbreaker. The entire room shook violently. Plaster fell as the ceiling cracked; the vase fell from the desk and paused in midair as one of the shadows deftly caught its shade. ¡°Yes, I believe that¡¯s Lady Chains,¡± said Crab-head. ¡°At least it¡¯s not Lord Fierce, eh?¡± asked the Lockbreaker with a hint of mirth. He turned back to the three of them. ¡°Go,¡± he said. ¡°We¡¯ll hold them off. For a while.¡± With these words, he strode silently from the room, followed by Crab-head and the shadows. One of the shadows paused long enough to point at them, then indicate the other direction, away from the distant tumult. Another shadow cheerfully waved goodbye. The third took the lamp, which floated out the door, trailing its cord. They left the door open. ¡°Holy shit,¡± breathed Eric. Then he steadied himself. They could talk later. For now, they needed to do as the Lockbreaker said. ¡°Isaac,¡± he said. His voice cracked. He cleared it and tried again. ¡°Can you just, like, move us out?¡± His voice sounded thin and tinny in his ears after hearing the smooth dark voice of the Lockbreaker. Eric¡¯s own voice, and everybody¡¯s voice, was a weak imitation. Poor sound quality. Shitty headphones. Isaac shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t want to try. Not yet.¡± Jimothy stood up, his eyes still wide. He turned to face the far wall, the direction the shadow had pointed. Light flashed, and a door-shaped part of the wall fell outward, its edges cut clean through. The grey wolf lost its entire back half. The three of them hurried through this opening into an empty storage room, dark and dusty. Light somehow filled the room as they entered, its source unseen. ¡°Oh,¡± said Jim, his voice weak. ¡°Up. Right. Hang on.¡± A translucent white sphere enveloped the three of them and rose into the air. It bore them aloft, along with a circular section of the floor they were standing on. When it reached the ceiling, the top of their bubble pushed through without slowing, though wood splintered and wiring snapped. Up into another dark room, then up again through the next ceiling, which again put up as much resistance as tissue paper. And then they were out. They stood on a circular section of carpeted floor, inside a bubble that rose into the darkness of a twilight sky. ¡°Huh,¡± said Isaac. ¡°It was broad daylight like ten minutes ago.¡± Stars moved overhead, and as Eric gained elevation he saw the clouds on the horizons, crimson beyond the blue. Up there, among the stars, a white moon hung high in the sky. Elsewhere up there, a gray moon also drifted. Was that Pyrrhus? The warehouse below was a mass of fire and smoke. Pedestrians ran screaming in the streets. Part of the warehouse collapsed. The noise reached them, still loud though they were already maybe eighty feet up. ¡°Let¡¯s get out of here, Jim,¡± said Eric. ¡°We can talk in a minute, okay?¡± Their bubble drifted rapidly away from the conflict at the warehouse, over the rooftops and streets that sparkled with the lights of evening. Isaac looked more or less fine, exhilarated by their flight and their escape from danger. Jimothy looked troubled. He held something in his hands, which he glanced at for a moment before releasing it and letting it fade to mist. It had been a canvas, and he¡¯d painted something on it. Eric only got a glimpse before it vanished, but it looked like a smaller version of the creature that Leocanto Lockbreaker had just killed. What did they say her name was? Niri? ¡°Isaac,¡± Eric asked, ¡°why did you interrupt? With the water. I had ¡®em on the ropes.¡± Isaac didn¡¯t take his eyes off the city. ¡°You were reaching for your sword.¡± ¡°Huh. Damn. Well, where¡¯d you get the water from?¡± That trick with the water had been pretty good. ¡°There was just a big tank down the street.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Full of fish.¡± ¡°And how¡¯d you get caught?¡± ¡°It was, uh, the shadows. Something just grabbed me, something I couldn¡¯t see, right when it started getting dark. It dragged me in. It was like being dragged by a machine. Then it took me to Leocanto, and he figured it all out pretty quick. We should remember that guy. He might be able to help us.¡± ¡°You think I could fucking forget?¡± And as for his help¡­yeah, Eric thought he could pass on that. ¡°Woah, look!¡± said Isaac. He pointed, but there was no need. In the darkening twilight, huge moth-like creatures fluttered toward them. Which made sense. They were riding in a glowing white bubble, and moths will be moths. These were as big as people, though. There were three of them, and they danced around the sphere when they got close. ¡°Hello!¡± said Jimothy, waving, his troubles forgotten just like that in the face of some new wonder. ¡°Greetings,¡± the moths replied. One of them discovered that it could settle itself atop their drifting orb. It did so and peered down at them with its bizarre moth face. ¡°Might you by chance,¡± it asked as it settled itself there, ¡°be the Child of Lights?¡± ¡°Um¡­¡± said Jim. Something clicked in Eric¡¯s memory. Butterfly people. But Isaac was ahead of him: ¡°You wouldn¡¯t be Theians, would you?¡± Chapter 40 Chapter 40 Elizabeth Skywater Citadel was made of elderstone, a pale iridescent material, cool and smooth. When touched by a living thing, such as a halfway-intoxicated Elizabeth Eddison, light shimmered out from the point of contact. When Elizabeth first set foot on the white elderstone floor of the reception hall, beyond the threshold of the monumental front doors of the citadel, she had made the mistake of looking down. Entranced by the rippling waves of color dancing subtly in the stone at her feet, she had promptly made face-first acquaintance with that very stone. She hadn¡¯t had the opportunity to see it, but her impact had doubtless produced quite a splash of colors. The cold, hard, and implacable grip of Lady Chimes on her upper arm raised her back up to her feet, and the equally alien yet far more comforting appendages of the Theians steadied her. Kate only laughed. Elizabeth cursed the godsday special Kate had ordered and vowed to be more careful about what she consumed in the future. At least she didn¡¯t have it as bad as Kate. A fit of the giggles had overcome Kate on their way here, and it didn¡¯t seem to be clearing up. Liz worried about her, though she couldn¡¯t say exactly what she thought might happen. Overstimulation, perhaps. That seemed like a legitimate hazard for Kaitlyn Carter even when she wasn¡¯t high on psychosympathetic grey paste. The haunting music which surrounded Lady Chimes like an aural fog drifted across the great hall as Elizabeth gawked at the room. The Citadel was huge¡ªthat much had been obvious from the outside¡ªbut every glance captured some new wonder. The entrance hall towered above her, its many delicate arboreal columns arching and splitting into a fine latticework far overhead, through the interstices of which filtered a soft golden light. Glowing sparks like those from a crackling multicolored fire drifted down in a soft rain from above, vanishing without apparent effect on contact with skin, clothes, or elderstone floor. Kate wasted no time in strapping on her bass and giving the strings a flick. Every glowing mote in the room reacted to the sound by rippling out in a swirling shockwave. Doors were visible beyond the columns on either side, each different in size, shape, color, impression. The room was not entirely empty; some kind of reception desk, seemingly unmanned, waited just to their right. A number of chairs in varying sizes and styles stood ready nearby. In-between the doors along the walls nestled alcoves carved into the stone, their contents hidden by fine decorative paneling. The room felt strange. It gave the distinct impression of being outdoors. Scents came one after another to her nose¨Ceach poignant, each familiar, each unrelated. The rich wet-pine-and-earth scent of her woods in springtime after a rain; the scent of wood smoke and dead leaves, maple sap and pumpkin and horses; the scent of the sea. ¡°Liz!¡± Kate tugged at her sleeve and almost pulled them both down to the elderstone floor. ¡°Stop staring!¡± Theians fluttered overhead. Their wings stirred the glowing motes in the air as Kate and Elizabeth followed after Lady Chimes. The Lady had already vanished through an arch at the far end. They had nearly crossed the length of the entrance hall when a flash of light outlined them from behind. Frantic barking followed almost immediately. Their angels had arrived. Five of them, plus a sixth larger figure, were all suddenly in the center of the entrance hall. Two angels didn¡¯t stay there long; Callie fled around the hall hissing while a happy, gangly dog chased after her. Callie was a white streak, one which rapidly altered its location and direction. She flickered throughout the room, perhaps unaware that such behavior only excited her pursuer. To her credit, Callie never once collided with a wall, a chair, a white column, a flying Theian, or another angel¨Cnone of which could be said for Hazel. A white stork-like bird, a species that Kate shortly informed her was called a shoebill ( scientific name: something-Kate-couldn¡¯t-pronounce rex), watched the antics of Hazel and Callie with a placid, eyeless gaze. Curled up atop its head like a vanguard of sartorial fashion was a white dragon, wings and all, no larger than¡­well, a Frisbee. And on top of the apparently napping dragon, a smaller hat. This one had wings, and after only a moment they lifted it up into the air. The tiny white butterfly danced its way up to the Theians, who were having a grand time cheering for either Hazel or Callie, or both. Yet all of this was quite insignificant compared to the other figure which stood there beside the bird and dragon. It resembled a humanoid pile of clear icicles, sharp white slabs of elderstone, silver needles and ivory spears. It was half again as tall as Elizabeth. Its many parts moved slightly, twitching, rustling, clicking and clattering against each other: glass, stone, metal, ice, bone, crystal¨Call of it cold and white and sharp, alive with light and life. Its name was Arcadelt, and it was the Concierge (official title) here at Skywater Citadel, though it thought of itself as ¡°Doorkeeper.¡± It was powerful, it knew everything that went on in this Citadel, and most importantly, it was on her side. It was the first of the angels, though it belonged to none. And it remembered everything. Elizabeth shook her head in confusion. Everything she knew about Arcadelt was obvious. Natural. Of course she knew Arcadelt! Of course. But¡­how did she know? ¡°Arkie!¡± exclaimed Kate. She ran to the Concierge of Skywater Citadel and almost immediately fell forward onto her face. But she never hit the ground. Instead, Arcadelt was there. It caught her as though it had been there all along, easing her fall with an arm-like mass and then setting her upright. One word for Arcadelt was ¡°sharp.¡± It looked composed entirely of razor edges and piercing points. But Arcadelt was precise and careful. Arcadelt could catch a butterfly in mid-flight without harming it. And Arcadelt would harm a dozen butterflies before it let one of the Heroes injure themselves. Not in its citadel. Elizabeth knew it. But how did she know? It was because Arcadelt possessed a direct kind of telepathy, one which conveniently bypassed the necessity of actual communication. Raw, efficient transfer of data. But how did she know that? Oh¡­wait¡­ Elizabeth clutched at her head. ¡°I get it,¡± she said out loud. ¡°I do.¡± But¡­damn, why did she have to be on drugs at a time like this? ¡°Please,¡± she said again, speaking to Arcadelt. ¡°Don¡¯t¡­just don¡¯t. For now.¡± Kate beamed up at the beautiful spiky monstrosity of Arcadelt. She didn¡¯t seem to be having any problems. Elizabeth wondered if that was because Kate was too far gone from ¡°the special¡± or because she was Kate. Elizabeth focused on her ring, the thin silver ring AJ had given her. She turned it with her thumb as she gathered her thoughts. ¡°Liz!¡± said Kate. She seized Elizabeth by the shoulder. ¡°Did you hear that? The boys are coming! In a bubble, Liz! Hee hee!¡± ¡°What?¡± Kate became very serious. She attempted to smooth out her blue dress. She made a fork appear in her hand and began trying to comb her hair with it. ¡°I need to look p-presentable, Liz! Here, let¡¯s sit down.¡± Kate created a large plastic ball and plopped down on it as though it were a chair. Maybe she thought it was. Either way, she was falling again. And this time, Elizabeth knew what to do. She simply reached out, not with her hand, but in her mind, and stopped Kate from falling. She just siphoned off all the momentum and dispersed it harmlessly into the elderstone floor around them. This had to be maintained continually because the pull of gravity never ceased. She wondered, in the brief moment when Kate was squirming confusedly in midair, whether she had figured this out herself or if Arcadelt had helped her know what to do. She snuck a glance at the Doorkeeper, who looked to be communing with Eric¡¯s dragon angel. Elizabeth soon had Kate righted and both of them in actual chairs. Kate tried to demonstrate to Elizabeth her ability to make mirrors, which Kate thought was somehow special. Kate could not, however, and after a few moments of consternation, a look of understanding came over her. ¡°Drops,¡± she told Elizabeth. ¡°I need drops to make permanent things! A resource is required! Heh heh. Duh!¡± The Theians and the angels played together while Elizabeth combed Kate¡¯s hair and Kate had a nervous breakdown about meeting Isaac and Jimothy. She was even in tears, briefly. Very briefly. Lady Chimes did not reappear, which was quite all right with Elizabeth, nor did anyone else enter the room save for a single red beetle that flew down from above, landed on Arcadelt, and then ascended again up to the golden-lit latticework far above. Everything about their situation struck Elizabeth as odd. Here they were, Elizabeth herself just sitting here combing hair while glowing sparks of color drifted and swirled around them. Five indestructible eyeless white creatures (one of them a miniature dragon) chased each other around the room while Theians swooped and danced in the air. Then there was Arcadelt itself, the Concierge, who stood with Shlushluth the purple-speckled white moth. And all this, just the beginning. Nothing about it felt right. Nothing about any of it was right. Some crazy dream, most likely. She knew it was not so, but it felt that way. Maybe it was that grey paste they had eaten, the one that made her thoughts loopy and blurry, but it all seemed not to matter too much. She was at peace, for now, with the various absurdities of her situation. Maybe that godsday special had been good for something after all. And besides all this, she had Kate with her. ¡°Aaaaugh!¡± said Kate as Elizabeth hugged her from behind. Kate waved her arms clumsily and almost toppled from her chair. They were here. Isaac Milton, Eric Walker, Jimothy Whyte, all just outside. And not a moment too soon, for the Lords and Ladies were waiting in the Hall of Towers, the inner sanctum of Skywater Citadel. Elizabeth furrowed her brows in consternation until she realized that she must know this because of Arcadelt. There appeared to be no internal differentiation between her own personal knowledge and that which Arcadelt implanted into her mind. That was somewhat alarming in itself. She knew that Arcadelt was on her side, but¡­ But. If it wasn¡¯t on her side¡­It was, of course, she knew it was, but¡­but why did she know that? ¡°Everything I think I know would be compromised,¡± she whispered to herself with a thrill of horror. ¡°All of it. Every thought.¡± A disempowering, frightening idea. She vigorously twisted at AJ¡¯s ring. No! She could not afford to second-guess her every thought. She would discuss this later, with the others. When they were all away from this Citadel. Because, of course, Arcadelt could not leave the Citadel, and could not project his direct telepathy outside of its boundaries. The huge white elderstone doors swung open and in came the boys, along with the three remaining Theians she had not seen. Elizabeth had seen the boys not so long ago, just a matter of weeks, but already they had changed. Isaac looked even taller and lankier, Eric more muscular, Jim more¡­sad? Isaac wore a matte black jumpsuit with some blue and purple trim that covered his whole body save for hands and head. It had a sleek, futuristic look to it. The Void Suit, she recalled. It looked strangely good on him, though it did contrast a bit with those huge blue-rimmed glasses. At least he wasn¡¯t wearing that hat. Eric wore jeans, a plain t-shirt, and a battered jacket all under a dirty gray canvas cloak. The hilt of a sword stuck up from behind his back, and he had a belt with a few mysterious objects tucked into it. He did look cool, she thought, but Elizabeth did not intend to allow him the satisfaction of her saying so. He met her gaze while she studied him, and he gave her a wry smile. I know, that look said. But just roll with it. Jimothy looked much the same as always, except that his shorts, shoes, t-shirt and all remaining parts of his body were splattered with some black substance. His cane was bright green now. He gaped open-mouthed at the entrance hall for only a second before Hazel tumbled him to the ground. Neither Isaac nor Eric paid this much mind, and for a moment Elizabeth envied them their casual understanding of when Jimothy needed their help and when he didn¡¯t. Jimothy laughed and hugged Hazel on the floor. Eric and Isaac stepped slowly into the room. Although they didn¡¯t look at each other, both raised their arms like falconers to welcome their respective angels. It was clear as day, in that moment, that they had been friends since forever. Frisby Wiser swooped down and hugged Eric¡¯s extended forearm as Charlie, now in the shape of an actual falcon (did it understand?) settled gracefully on Isaac¡¯s. Elizabeth approached them, Jimothy in particular, who was still on the floor with Hazel. He disentangled himself, accepted Elizabeth¡¯s hand, and struggled to his feet. A futile effort, in the end, because Kate hugged him with all of her recently acquired lack of restraint. Arcadelt was there, just as if Elizabeth simply hadn¡¯t noticed it before, and the creature gently stopped them from falling. There seemed to be a lot of falling around here lately, and most of it seemed to be Kate¡¯s fault. Maybe it was her thing. ¡°Damn,¡± said Eric as he and Isaac strolled up. ¡°This place is crazy.¡± Isaac, who had been trying to catch one of the drifting sparks of light, opened his mouth to say something. He paused, and an expression of bewilderment darkened his features. He threw an incredulous glance at Arcadelt. Eric, meanwhile, was watching Kate. He leaned in closer to Elizabeth and said, ¡°hey, is she¡­like, okay?¡± Kate at this moment was demonstrating to Jimothy the peculiar properties of the elderstone floor by rolling around on it and trying to position herself to grab Hazel, who pranced just beyond her reach. The floor shimmered in spreading rainbow auras, soft and pleasing to the eye, wherever she rolled. Kate was laughing, her carefully combed hair already a tangled mess again, and her dress was riding up dangerously. ¡°She will¡­be fine,¡± said Elizabeth. Eric looked up at her. ¡°You know, you look a little buzzed yourself.¡± A cheeky grin appeared. ¡°What have you two been up to?¡± ¡°It is none of your concern,¡± Elizabeth informed him. ¡°Hmm,¡± he said. ¡°Yeah, well¡­¡± He blinked, then muttered, ¡°¡­the fuck?¡± He turned to look at Arcadelt, who stood at ease ten feet behind him, emitting a constant soft tinkling, clattering sound. ¡°And what about you?¡± she asked. ¡°We¡¯ve been waiting for you. What happened to Jimothy?¡± She became unbalanced partly through this sentence, but Callie appeared at her side to steady her. Callie¡¯s hackles were raised at the nearby Hazel, but she was a firm foundation nevertheless. ¡°Well, I think we got some shit to discuss about that,¡± he said. ¡°And also I was thinking, like not now but later, when we¡¯ve got some time, maybe you and I, you know, also should discuss some shit.¡± ¡°I have no interest in discussing ¡®shit,¡¯¡± she said. Could he just for once use actual, helpful words rather than obscenities? ¡°Damn. Well we can probably find some other topics. More interesting ones, you know.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± said Isaac with a grin, ¡°probably too interesting for the rest of us to also be there, am I right?¡± ¡°Bro, shut up,¡± said Eric, at the same time that Elizabeth said, ¡°That¡¯s enough, Isaac.¡± ¡°Well here we are!¡± Isaac declared, undeterred and still with an obnoxious knowing grin. ¡°The gang, all together at last.¡± ¡°Hey!¡± objected Kate from the floor, where she had successfully caught Hazel and was now struggling to hold him in a bear hug while he twisted and rolled. ¡°You¡¯re not¨Coof!¨Cwe¡¯re not all here! Don¡¯t you forget Heidi, mister!¡± Elizabeth had always known that Kate cared little for her own personal dignity, but she wondered whether a fully sober Kaitlyn Carter would condone her present behavior. Eric must have been thinking the same thing, for he pulled his phone out and began taking a video of Kate¡¯s wrestling match with Hazel. Elizabeth offered up a silent prayer of thanks to whatever gods were listening in this world that she had not eaten as much of the special as Kate. ¡°I¡¯m not forgetting Heidi!¡± said Isaac. ¡°Geez! I¡¯m just saying, like, this was us, right? The five of us, for years, and we always wanted to meet up. And here we are!¡± ¡°Also, does your stutter always go away when you¡¯re blitzed off your ass?¡± said Eric. ¡°Just asking. For science.¡± ¡°FOR SCIENCE!¡± Her shout startled Hazel so much that he vanished, leaving her clutching at empty air. She glared around her. ¡°Come back, you coward!¡± ¡°Ooh, Kate, you should try some tongue twisters now,¡± Isaac suggested. Kate gasped at this brilliant suggestion. The Concierge hated to interrupt their reunion, but they would have plenty of time to socialize after their meeting with the Lords and Ladies of Skywater. A feast had been prepared for them. ¡°Oh, thank god,¡± said Eric. ¡°We¡¯re starving. Wait. Didn¡¯t I already know the food? Or¡­¡± ¡°Just don¡¯t think about it,¡± Elizabeth advised him. ¡°Too much. Don¡¯t think too much. About it. Shit. My words¡­¡± She made a feeble grasping motion at the air in front of her, as though trying to catch something that slipped between her fingers like vapor. Arcadelt began moving with a clear intent to lead them somewhere. His steps tinkled softly like glass on stone. They trailed after him in a disorganized muddle. Isaac led the way with that falcon on his shoulder, trying to take in everything at once. Eric followed, petting Frisby as he tucked the dragon close to his chest. That was cute. Kate and Jimothy were next, talking excitedly. For once in his life, it was Jimothy helping someone else to walk steadily. Granted, he was being assisted by Hazel and Shlushluth, who was halfway hauling Kate along. Elizabeth took the rear, which she shared with Callie and the rest of the Theians. The beautiful Theians kept up an excited, hushed babble. They sounded astonished that they were so honored to be here in the Citadel, as guests of the Child of Skies. The Hall of Towers, inner sanctum of Skywater Citadel and meeting place of the Lords and Ladies, was only a brief journey from the entrance hall. Arcadelt led them down an ornate hallway of lacquered wood, the floor still elderstone, the walls adorned with colorful tapestries depicting what Elizabeth assumed were historic events or notable figures, few of which she could comprehend. And then, over the threshold of an ornate elderstone door, they entered the Hall of Towers. It was a circular room a few dozen strides across. A familiar hexagon with six symbols was engraved in the center. The domed ceiling above deceived her at first, for it displayed the night sky which must have been apparent over the city outside. It was a perfect replica; the stars even moved. It gave the impression that the circular gallery below, well-lit though it was, existed roofless in some outside locale. The Hall of Towers had a variety of smells. Unlike in the entrance hall, these came all at once, in a confusing jumble. Something was burning somewhere; she could smell fabric singeing. She smelled oil, and the dampness of rain. Somewhere, a familiar and eerie tinkling music sounded. Five peculiar chairs arranged in a semicircle faced them as they entered, three of them occupied. A balcony above matched the semicircle of chairs below. Five hunched figures loomed up there and gazed down like dark gargoyles. All the room was carved of elderstone, gilded tastefully with silver and clear crystal in an aesthetic that clearly matched the composition of Arcadelt. All was lit with a warm glow that emerged in a haze from the elderstone itself. Arcadelt stalked forward until it stood at the center of the hexagon, in the center of the room, beneath the starry sky. Elizabeth¡¯s four friends huddled in an awkward, fidgety cluster when she joined them. Even blitzed-off-her-ass Kate seemed cowed by the presences in this room. As well she should be, for the Lords and Ladies of Skywater were something else. Yet Elizabeth gritted her teeth, summoned her courage, not caring if it was just a godsday-special courage, and stepped forth onto the hexagon. The full attention of everyone at once pressed down upon her. She knew, with a peculiar certainty that bespoke Arcadeltian inspiration, that there were six Lords and ten Ladies of Skywater. Only half of each were currently in attendance. But she didn¡¯t know who they were. Perhaps Arcadelt couldn¡¯t or wouldn¡¯t tell her. Perhaps they preferred to introduce themselves. She was alone under the intense gazes of these strange and powerful beings. She turned, saw the other four gawking behind her, and gestured violently for them to come join her on the hexagon. Eric came first, apparently fearless, to stand beside her. Isaac was next, his eyes searching, thinking. That was good. They all needed Isaac to be thinking. Jimothy and Kate stumbled forward, their faces alike full of wonder. The Theians had remained outside in the hall. Had someone told them to stay out? The door had already shut. Their angels lined the back wall as though unwilling to come in front of the Skywater Council. Yes, that was its name. Their meeting began with Lord Fool. A freakishly tall, thin, greenish creature festooned in countless knick-knacks and fluttering scraps of fabric, his face a laughing mask, Lord Fool perched monkey-like upon his chair. His chair was like a large rocking chair, except that several tall beams rose up from it, complete with crossbars like a playground for cats or birds. It was all bright colors in peeling paint, and Lord Fool roosted in this miniature jungle gym as it swung back and forth, always on the verge of tipping over and spilling its occupant to the floor. His immense purple stovepipe hat wobbled back and forth, yet likewise never quite fell off. Lord Fool laughed with a high, maniacal hooting. Lord Fool laughs, as he has ever done, and his laugh is a welcome. Behold, he laughs, and Lord Fool, the most adeptly christened, the most fortuitously titled, reveals new wonders: of the stars overslept and forgetting their places, of a drunken spider¡¯s misplaced socks, of the heat of a candle flame upon the distant snowy hills, of a sea of ink but¨Calas!¨Cno pens to write with, nor parchment to write upon, nor any words in all the world worth the effort of the writing. Lord Fool welcomes the newcomers with a Marvelous Dance, a line or two of Wit Most Remarkable, and a dire warning concerning the folly of foresight, the perils of perspicacity, the woes of wisdom, the throes of thoughtfulness, the lie of life and the deception of death¨Cwell though he knows that he is far from the only fool present, nor perhaps even the rightful lord, though he has no intention of relinquishing the crown! He laughs a welcome and the young humans laugh with him¨Cfor why should they not? Come, says the Sightless One, let us laugh, for we are a deck reversed, and all the cards are fools. Playing cards fluttered down from somewhere like confetti when Lord Fool had finished and was situating himself back onto his creaking, rocking, precarious perch. A steady jangle accompanied the movements of the chair, mingling with the faint tinkling chimes from somewhere above. Eric said something to himself behind Elizabeth. It sounded like, ¡°All but six.¡± The next Lord addressed them from the comfort of a large leather easy-chair, partly reclined. This Lord was plump and ruddy with an expansive gray beard, a barrel of a belly, huge black boots and blue suspenders over what looked like a knit woolen sweater that matched his cap, red and green diamond pattern. Were it not for the friendly smiling mask over his face and the lack of a holly-red coat and hat, Elizabeth could have been looking at old Saint Nick himself, in the days before his beard turned white as snow. He held a long and elaborate golden pipe in his hand, which terminated in three separate bowls. Red, blue, and green smoke rose from these three bowls and braided up into the air in a shifting pattern before dispersing. Lord Friend smiles upon the newcomers, and his smile is as warm and jolly as a crackling fire on a wet and cold winter¡¯s night. His eyes twinkle behind the mask, and it is the twinkling of an inn¡¯s lantern to a tired and hungry traveler in the dark evening. He speaks, and his words are fine music on a dreary afternoon, a thrilling idea seized in a dull moment, the scent of breakfast in the sleepy morn. Welcome, he says, and thus Welcome they are¨CElizabeth and the rest¨Cfor how could it be otherwise? We are here, says Lord Friend, the protector, the hopeful, the giver of peace, we are together, we are one. Lord Friend speaks, and his words are not forked lightning, nor does he grieve the sun when catching it in flight, and his deeds dance brightly indeed in a green bay, yet he rages not (what mystery is this?) and goes ever gently into the night, be it good or otherwise. Lord Friend¡¯s mask smiled at them through the twining wreath of colored smoke as he settled down comfortably into his chair. Elizabeth, with a powerful effort of will, tore her eyes away from him and glanced around at her friends. Each wore their own brand of astonishment. What the hell is happening? their faces asked. And it was a good question. She knew that poem from somewhere. Lord Friend had just quoted a poem from Earth, and she recognized it. If Lord Fool was ridiculous and Lord Friend was comforting, the final Lord now present was threatening. He was not large, no bigger than any of the humans, though his chair was a great rough slab of chiseled black stone. Rough dark robes enshrouded him, and what little Elizabeth could see of his body, such as his one hand which grasped a silver goblet, looked like a conglomerate of sharp obsidian gravel. His mask was a sneering scowl, distinctly unpleasant. He leered down at them like a man observing that an unpleasant creature has crawled into his home. The words of Lord Foe grate upon the ear like an untimely compliment. He has no fanciful speech, nor expectations of those in his presence whom he views as intruders. He is not impressed. He has no faith in ancient prophecy, nor in the ability of any power to resist the tide of destruction swelling out from the Dark World. These humans are children, and Lord Friend is disastrously mistaken, and Lord Fool is a fool, though he is right in one regard: these children are fools as well. They will receive no aid from Lord Foe¨Cindeed, do they not tread carefully, they may receive a great deal less. The eyes of Lord Foe are as cold and hard as his heart, as his seat here in the Hall of Towers, as the Dark World itself. And with this, he is finished. He has no further advice, nor even words of warning, for he cares not, believes not, trusts not in these children from another world. He was promised heroes. It seemed darker and colder when Lord Foe had finished. The sky above had been cleared of stars and reduced to a black void. Elizabeth¡¯s breath misted faintly in front of her as she exhaled. She hugged herself for warmth, but already stars began to speckle the false sky again, and warmth seeped back into the air. Three Lords were missing; two seats sat empty. The first empty seat, fit for a giant, was of battered metal. One armrest could have served Elizabeth as a bed, albeit a narrow and uncomfortable one. This was the seat of Lord Fierce, away battling the forces of the Dark World as was his duty. The next empty seat looked like a peculiar green tree, efflorescent with blossoms of blue and pink and gold, that had taken root in this room and grown into a vaguely chair-like form. This was the seat of Lord Fair, off on a diplomatic mission to King Basileus of the Garden Moon. The last seat was only an empty space on the floor, although an outline of a chair had been drawn where one might have sat. (¡°Looks like a chair was murdered there,¡± she heard Isaac whisper behind her, confirming her suspicion that Arcadelt was showing them all these things simultaneously.) This was the place of Lord Found. As for Lord Found¡¯s location or activities, no one could say. Fool. Friend. Foe. Fierce. Fair. Found. The Lords of Skywater. Three present, three absent. The nouns here, Elizabeth thought, the adjectives absent. Now it was the Ladies¡¯ turn. They loomed in their balcony above the Lords, and unlike the Lords they resembled each other. She recognized Lady Chimes, the source of the eerie tinkling music that tickled the edges of her awareness. The rest were more or less equivalent in shape: all tall, hunched, ominous, their forms obscured in some kind of cloak or wrapping. Five Ladies were present. ¡°I am Lady Wings,¡± said the one on the left. Her voice, like the voice of Lady Chimes, was a hoarse, rasping whisper, yet it carried throughout the room. Lady Wings was thoroughly obscured by her several sets of large feathery wings, white as clouds. The wings rustled faintly as she spoke. ¡°I am Lady Rains,¡± said the next. They all, Elizabeth soon realized, shared that hoarse, whispery voice. Yet it took on a unique quality for each. The voice of Lady Rains was smoother and darker than Lady Wings¡¯. Some kind of wet leathery shroud, its surface roughly textured, covered Lady Rains. ¡°I am Lady Fires,¡± rasped the next. Lady Fires was the source of the burning scent. Her dark cloak smoldered, glimmered faintly red in the shadows where she stood. The cloak fluttered and twitched. ¡°I am Lady Chimes,¡± said the one Elizabeth knew. Her cloak of ringing, overlapping scales moved strangely. A sudden thought struck Elizabeth: what if Lady Wings was not the only one with wings? ¡°I am Lady Chains,¡± grated the last, her voice deeper. She was the largest, and her cloak/wings were of chain mail¨Ccountless finely interlocking metallic links. She spoke with a rustle of chain. Now they should introduce themselves, Elizabeth realized. But was it actually her doing the realizing, or¨CNo! Don¡¯t think about that! Elizabeth fought the urge to turn and look back at her friends. A brief wave of vertigo washed over her, maybe a result of the godsday special. She thought she was winning this battle against dizziness, but a steady hand on her shoulder caught her as she began to tip to one side. She didn¡¯t need to look to know it was Eric¡¯s hand. Thus righted, she planted her feet firmly, took a deep breath, and thought: I refuse to write poems about making a fool of myself in front of this council. ¡°Greetings,¡± she said. ¡°I am Elizabeth Eddison. Of¡­the Garden Moon. Sisyphus.¡± She stalled. What more to say? She knew she was supposedly the ¡®hero of movement,¡¯ but that was simply too stupid a title for her to claim. Yet she wanted to make a good impression, although she had yet to understand why, exactly, these were important people. They had been waiting for her. Her palms felt sweaty, but she didn¡¯t want to make this obvious by wiping them. And her contacts were getting annoying. She should have worn glasses. Anything else she should say? The sign, thinks Lord Friend. The medallion, the full six. He wonders, does Elizabeth Eddison have it? He knows, of course. They all know the heroes for what they are, have little doubt! But the council must have the proof. She knew at once what he meant. She drew it up from around her neck and displayed it to the council. They shifted, stirred, but did not speak. ¡°Yo,¡± said Eric as he stepped up beside her to address the Lords and Ladies. ¡°I¡¯m Eric. From the big city. Hollow Moon.¡± He showed them his hexagon. It looked exactly like Elizabeth¡¯s, and she wondered whether they were interchangeable. ¡°I¡­¡± said Isaac, coming up on Elizabeth¡¯s other side, ¡°am Isaac Milton. The Hero of Space! From the Void Station. Formerly Icarus, I guess.¡± He held up an empty hand, and then it was empty no longer; the white hexagon with its six glowing symbols was there. Kate stumbled forward. ¡°Hi!¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m K-ka-k-¡± she swallowed. ¡°Kaitlyn C-carter! But you can also just c-call me Kate! I¡¯m from Theia, the C-cloud Moon, and I met Absolem, and I found the snowglobes, and I saw¨CI¨CI see the p-problem.¡± She shook her head sadly, then stomped her foot in anger. ¡°There¡¯s no s-sky! And I¡¯m the sky person! What the heck?!¡± She looked ready to say more, but Isaac shushed her. She shushed him back, so loud that the whole room echoed with it. Lord Fool laughed and applauded with a jangle of ornaments. Jimothy came up last. ¡°Hello,¡± he said with a meek little hand wave. ¡°My name is Jimothy Whyte. From Hyperion. And¡­I didn¡¯t mean to get anyone hurt.¡± He showed them his medallion, which reminded Kate to do the same. ¡°Think nothing of it, Jimothy,¡± said Lady Wings. Yet the sagacious Lord Friend says otherwise. The young Jimothy White should think something of it¨Cthink something very much of it, in fact. The first witness of death is much to be thought of. Elizabeth struggled to separate her own thoughts from those of Lord Friend. Death? What? Had something happened to Jimothy? ¡°Time enough to speak on all of that later,¡± rasped Lady Fires with a rustle of her smoldering garments. Elizabeth saw ribbed impressions in her cloak. It very much resembled bat-like wings, completely enfolding her. ¡°Where is the last?¡± The Ladies stirred as though they had just noticed the lack of a sixth human child on the floor. Elizabeth shared their unease. Where was Heidi? She looked at the white medallion in her hand. The compass was there, glowing black. That meant nothing, as far as Elizabeth knew. She had tried texting Heidi one last time on her way here to the Citadel. Still no response. ¡°We don¡¯t know,¡± she said at last. ¡°Orpheus, I suppose.¡± ¡°The Metal Moon,¡± said Lady Chains. ¡°Understandable. Few who find themselves there are able to leave again.¡± Lord Friend is certain that the heroes of Ardia will prove an exception to that unfortunate trend. But for now, they must all proceed. Proceed with what? With the elucidation of the situation. ¡°Show them, Concierge,¡± hissed Lady Chimes with an ominous chord. The Lords concurred, and Elizabeth had to fight another dizzy spell brought on by their overlapping impressions. Eric and Isaac, on either side of her, propped her up as though they had practiced it. At the moment, she didn¡¯t mind. Arcadelt turned to face them, his many sharp and gleaming parts glinting with the light along the walls. Above, the stars shared the sky with a spreading light. Arcadelt tells a story : Once upon a time, there is a world called Ardia. In this world is a city called Skywater. In this city is a mighty citadel. Deep within this citadel is a white door. Six moons orbit the world of Ardia. Far beyond these moons lie two other worlds, tracing two different paths. One is the Bright World, the brightest light in the sky, whence come the stars. And one is the Dark World, whence come the enemies of Ardia and its moons. Beyond these outer worlds rests the Empyrean, the shield of stars which encompasses all that is. Beyond the Empyrean lies only the Vast Abrupt, the infinite void, the outer darkness which the stars keep at bay. On the Dark World stands the tower of Storisende, and within that tower waits the Dark Ruler, a powerful and enigmatic figure. The Dark Ruler bears the dark key, the only means of opening the white door at the heart of Skywater Citadel. Whosoever opens that door shall step beyond it into a reality of their own design. This power is a deep mystery. The Dark Ruler desires this for himself, and has set his forces against Skywater and the world of Ardia. He seeks to overtake the city, invade the Citadel itself, and open the white door. Should he succeed, all will be lost. The forces of the Dark World are great, and they engage in ceaseless internecine conflict with Ardia, but there is yet hope. Six heroes will arise, one for each moon. They will set their broken moons aright, they will become Champions, they will defend Ardia from the forces of evil, and they will at last go to the Dark World and take the black key from the Dark Ruler. It is they who will open the white door. ¡°Question,¡± says Isaac Milton. You shouldn¡¯t be here. ¡°Why is ¡®Champions¡¯ capitalized?¡± I was not using text. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. ¡°Can I ask about our moon quests? And what¡¯s the deal with the Bright World? You haven¡¯t said anything about that yet.¡± I have enabled your angels to communicate with you more directly. They will explain much. As for the rest, it is up to you to discover. ¡°Sure, right. Can¡¯t unload too much plot information at once, right?¡± No. Now step out of my story. ¡°Weren¡¯t you done?¡± Not quite. It is they who will open the white door. So say the prophecies. The end. ¡°Wait, that was all you had left?¡± Arcadelt¡¯s tale from beginning to end lasted only a few seconds. When it was over, they all stood just as they had before, and gray dawn light crept through the false sky overhead. ¡°I knew it,¡± said Isaac softly to her right. ¡°Fuck,¡± Eric muttered to her left. Elizabeth rubbed at her temples and swayed on her feet. Was the aptly named special at last wearing off? She couldn¡¯t tell. ¡°Fuck,¡± Eric said again, louder. Then he shouted. ¡°Damn it! What the hell? So we¡¯re stuck here?¡± Eric was gritting his teeth, his fists clenched. Elizabeth had never seen him lose his cool before. ¡°Whose fucking idea was it to bring us here? Why us?¡± ¡°Hey, you opened the doors yourself,¡± said Isaac. ¡°At least you had a choice.¡± ¡°We never had a choice,¡± said Eric, his limited reserves of uncool angry shouting apparently run dry already. Now he just sounded defeated. ¡°It was a fucking hexagon from the beginning, right?¡± ¡°It was!¡± Kate exclaimed. ¡°I remember! I was so curious who the sixth one would be!¡± She sank down to her knees on the elderstone floor and traced a finger along the smooth surface, watching the colors spread in response. ¡°I hope she¡¯s okay.¡± Now she sounded near tears again. Good lord, Kate¡¯s moods were erratic enough under normal circumstances. ¡°Well?¡± Eric asked, directing this question at the Lords and Ladies. ¡°Why us? And what does all this have to do with October Industries? And what the fuck was going on with the sky?¡± They didn¡¯t know, Elizabeth realized. None of the Lords or Ladies understood anything beyond this world. They didn¡¯t know about Earth or its fate, or about where their heroes came from or why, and they certainly had not heard of October Industries. ¡°They don¡¯t know,¡± said Jimothy as though in sudden realization to himself. Elizabeth glanced around quickly and saw that the others also shared this abrupt comprehension. That meant it was the work of Arcadelt. Lord Friend understands that these new circumstances may require some adjustment. He is quite prepared to discuss such matters at great length, perhaps near a crackling fire with pastries and hot, sweet beverages at hand. But for the moment, he must simply inquire whether the heroes of Ardia understand their position in light of what the first of the angels has revealed. ¡°We get it,¡± said Isaac. He stepped forward. He sounded excited. ¡°We have to get the key, and not let the Dark Ruler reach the door.¡± He began pacing. ¡°We need to do our moon quests. I¡¯m sure there¡¯s plenty to do on this world too, Ardia. And this city. It¡¯s a hubworld; we can all come here.¡± He began ticking things off on his fingers. ¡°The guardians. The doors. The angels. The gods. Ten, right? Hmm. Music?¡± The resources of the citadel, and to a lesser extent Skywater itself, were partially at their disposal, though the Heroes each wielded greater authority on their respective moons. Their angels could now inform them more clearly about what was to be done. And, of course, they could all avail themselves of the service of Arcadelt himself within the Citadel. Seeing as the heroes ¡®get it,¡¯ Lord Fool observes that this meeting has thus come to a close. And not a moment too soon! For he senses hunger gnawing at the guts of his guests, and unrest gnawing at the belly of their city, for interesting business is afoot by the docks! Is it not so, says Lord Fool slyly to the eminent Lady Chains, whose blood-spattered raiment has failed to evade his keen eye. And the eminent Lord Fool has a word of congratulations for the Hero of Light, for surely ¡®twas his doing: the unforeseen and quite thorough chromatic recalibration of a significant section of the market district? The damages and reparations bear no mention, alas, or he would mention them. And Lord Fool goes so far as to doff his singular artifact of haberdashery, his immense purple stovepipe, the far end of which is not inconvenienced by its contact with the elderstone floor, and indeed creates a small crater therein. Lord Friend suggests that one of the Ladies lead their guests to their prepared dinner. Lord Foe, perceiving that this farce has come to an end, rises, turns, and departs in a swirl of darkness through a door in the back. He makes a noise like the clattering of stones as he goes. ¡°Are you guys hungry?¡± asked Jimothy. ¡°I¡¯m pretty hungry.¡± ¡°I am hungry,¡± Kate replied. Elizabeth was about to respond that she shouldn¡¯t be, they just ate, when she realized that she was fairly hungry as well. Perhaps that special was not very filling. And she just remembered that she had taken only a few bites out of her fish before¡­ Lady Fires arose from her chair. Her hulking form dropped with a whoosh from the balcony to the elderstone floor. The floor swirled red and pink and orange around her as she drew herself up to a formidable six feet. She slid across the stone toward them. Arcadelt stepped out of her way and bowed as she passed. Isaac stopped pacing when she approached. ¡°A riddle,¡± she rasped when she stopped in front of them. Her smoldering leathery covering, which Elizabeth was now almost certain was nothing less than her own wings enveloping her, twitched as she spoke. Stray sparks tumbled down the dark wings and onto the floor. The scent of smoke hung about her like a shroud. ¡°Which is more dangerous: a valiant fool, or a timid sage?¡± After a moment of silence, Kate¡¯s whisper was clearly audible to all of them: ¡°That¡¯s not a riddle!¡± Elizabeth had to agree. A tough question, maybe, but it required clarification of terms. ¡°More dangerous to whom?¡± she asked. ¡°Which would you have at your side at the last hour?¡± Elizabeth did not know. It still wasn¡¯t really a riddle. It reminded her of the one Jim had asked not so long ago: ¡®no enemies but our friends¡¯ and all that. ¡°The sage,¡± said Isaac. Eric, at almost the same time, said, ¡°the fool.¡± ¡°Can I have both?¡± asked Jimothy. ¡°Still not a riddle,¡± Kate muttered. ¡°No chain of reasoning.¡± ¡°Is there a correct answer?¡± asked Elizabeth. Lady Fires chuckled a hoarse laugh that sent a shower of sparks dying onto the shimmering floor. ¡°Ask the Burning God.¡± With this, she moved past them, back to the door they had entered by. With a last lingering look at the Lords and Ladies behind, who were already dispersing, Elizabeth followed. Arcadelt came with them, and it was probably because of him that Elizabeth knew that she or any of the others could come call on any of the Lords or Ladies at any time. Except, probably, Lord Foe. Arcadelt would always know where they could be found, with the obvious exception of Lord Found. ¡°More like Lord Lost, am I right?¡± said Isaac. Only Kate laughed. ¡°Why is it obvious?¡± asked Elizabeth. ¡°Is he missing?¡± ¡°Who knows why the Laughing God laughs?¡± said Lady Fires. No one, Elizabeth understood. No one knows. Not even, they say, the Laughing God himself. They passed through the gilded halls of the Citadel for only a short time before arriving at their dining room. Lady Fires told them on the way that the Theians were being provided for elsewhere. This was a private dining room for the six (five) of them. They would be served by quaaliths, who had been instructed not to be overly distracting. Lady Fires said more in the two-minute walk to their dining room than had Lady Chimes during the whole time she¡¯d led Kate and Elizabeth to the Citadel. And despite the burning bat-wings and the horrid scratching whistle of her voice, Lady Fires was somehow less threatening than Lady Chimes. Heat radiated from her as she led them down the corridors, and the elderstone reacted to her presence in a wide radius even before she set foot upon it. (¡°Foot?¡± Impossible to say.) Their dining room looked as though Lord Friend had designed it. It was cozy: wood-paneled walls, lush maroon carpet, warm glow from the candles and glowing globes of rich light hanging from the ceiling, low darkwood table with padded chairs. A fireplace stacked with wood lay cold on one side of the room, and on the other stood a bookcase flanked by golden lampstands. The bookcase, bizarrely, reminded Elizabeth of Lazaru, the apelike librarian from Sisyphus. The only strange thing about this room was the ceiling, which was made of elderstone and was shot through like Swiss cheese with big, dark holes. The circular table was set for six. It looked like a formal setting, with several slight variations on almost every dish and utensil. A number of colored bottles stood like lonely towers on the broad varnished plain of the table. Lady Fires preceded them and made her way to the fireplace, leaving a trail of slightly singed carpet on her way. She blocked their view of the fireplace for only a moment, but a fire crackled merrily when she turned back to them. She appeared to notice her trail of damaged carpet. ¡°Oh dear,¡± she hissed. ¡°I will leave you to your business.¡± She hurried out of the room. ¡°Arcadelt will provide you with anything you require.¡± ¡°Coffee, Arcadelt,¡± said Eric as Lady Fires left. No one else had any requests. Arcadelt vanished, leaving them and their angels alone in the cozy dining room. Alone at last. It seemed everyone felt the same, for they breathed a collective sigh. ¡°So tell us,¡± said Isaac as he took a seat at the table, ¡°how did Kate get so¡­¡± ¡°So awesome?!¡± said Kate as she collapsed into a chair next to him. She collapsed so hard that her head thunked onto the edge of her center plate, causing it to flip over onto one of her bowls and roll off the table. ¡°Ow.¡± ¡°We ate at a caf¨¦,¡± said Elizabeth as she pulled up another seat. ¡°Kate ordered something without knowing what it was.¡± ¡°And you had some too, huh?¡± said Eric with a grin. She scowled at him. ¡°Not that much.¡± ¡°It was AMAZING,¡± said Kate with her head still resting on the table, her dark hair all over the rest of her dishes. She was right about that. It had been amazing. ¡°Yeah, sounds like it,¡± said Eric. He pulled a chair out for Jimothy before taking one of the final two seats. ¡°Oh, this is Frisby Wiser, everyone. I didn¡¯t name him.¡± He spoke as the tiny white dragon crawled up onto his shoulder. ¡°So cute!¡± said Kate. ¡°Hello, Frisby!¡± The dragon nodded at her as it hopped down onto the table and marched over to inspect the bottles. ¡°A keen idea, Frisby,¡± said Isaac. Isaac reached out for the center of the table. His arm was not quite long enough to reach, but a bottle appeared in his hand anyway, one of those that had been in the middle of the table only a moment before. He uncorked it, poured the bright blue substance into his goblet, and took a long sip without hesitation. ¡°What?¡± he asked when he realized everyone was watching him. ¡°How is it?¡± asked Jimothy? ¡°I¡¯m pretty thirsty.¡± ¡°It¡¯s good,¡± said Isaac. ¡°Tastes like¡­¡± Everyone interrupted him by laughing, for Isaac had revealed that his teeth were as blue as Kate¡¯s dress. This kicked off a brief spree of testing the dozen-or-so various drinks set before them. There was a bottle of water, several of juice, and one of milk (the same kind she¡¯d had at the Silver Green, unless she was mistaken), but half were alcoholic. Did they not care that the heroes were underage? Or did it not matter here? Or had they simply not known? Although aware of possible unhelpful complications with the lingering effects of the special she and Kate had eaten, Elizabeth sampled several of the liquors. She kept a close eye on Kate to make sure that she, dear adventuress that she was, did not get more than a sip of any of it. Elizabeth¡¯s favorite was a rich syrupy cordial that changed colors and flavors, shifting through a dozen of them on a swift cycle. It was the most extraordinary sensation to have the tart apricot taste become strawberry cream when she swallowed, while the lingering traces on her tongue faded to a sweet butterscotch. It was delicious but strong¨Cstrong in the alcoholic sense. Dangerous, AJ would have called it. Elizabeth made sure to fill only a fraction of her crystal goblet. She swirled it, fascinated by the color-changing brew. The others laughed and joked, pointing out the various surprising qualities of their peculiar beverages. That was good, Elizabeth thought as she sipped the changing cordial. High spirits. She felt uneasy, and not just because of the all-too-obvious empty chair across from her. Something nudged her leg. She reached down and scratched Callie¡¯s head without looking. Isaac, Jimothy, and Kate were all enjoying the antics of Frisby Wiser and Navi. Kate got a little too enthusiastic about cheering them on. Eric leaned back in his chair, the tarpaulin cape and futuristic sword piled against the wall behind him. He smiled with the others, but his heart was not in it. He gazed at the drink in his hand. It was a pale blue, and it rippled with faint green light as it turned in the glass. Elizabeth scooted her chair closer to his and leaned over. ¡°Leah?¡± she asked, quietly enough that the others wouldn¡¯t hear. ¡°Your parents?¡± He sighed and took his time formulating a response. ¡°Yeah,¡± he said at last. ¡°I know Isaac¡¯s having a great time with all this bullshit, but it¡¯s hard for me to get into it when I don¡¯t know what¡¯s happening back home.¡± ¡°I¡¯m worried about my family, too.¡± He raised his glass in a mock toast. She reached over and clinked hers against it. They each kicked back a swallow. ¡°So what happened with Jimothy?¡± she asked. He shrugged. ¡°I guess he made a friend here, brought her over to his moon, and a giant wolf killed her. Just right in front of him.¡± Elizabeth gasped, but Eric continued in a flat tone. ¡°So when he came back today, he got in trouble with the gang she was in. Only they let him off easy because he¡¯s a Hero. Except the girl¡¯s mom was pissed, so she dropped a hint to the Dark World or some shit, for revenge right, so then the mafia boss dude kills her too. Right in front of us. Isaac and I tried to go save Jim before we found out he didn¡¯t need it.¡± Elizabeth leaned back in her chair, shaken. Death. Murder? Two murders? Right in front of Jimothy? ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± asked Isaac, but that was when the quaalith arrived with their food. They flourished like jellyfish down from the holes in the ceiling, bearing steaming trays and dishes suspended by thin tendrils. The quaalith fluttered slowly, elegantly, like sentient rainbows. They seemed lighter than air, yet could somehow lower down an entire tray of roast meat. ¡°I¡¯ve seen these before,¡± Eric said to her, the only noise as the rest of them sat entranced by the scintillating movement. ¡°They were in the Museum. Saw them with Heidi.¡± The used bottles of drink were replaced, and platters of food soon covered every inch of space on the table. Not all of it looked delicious. It seemed to Elizabeth that whomever had prepared this meal had not known precisely for what palate they were cooking, and had thus decided to cover their bases. There was a basket of orange tulips in some kind of red sauce. There was a wheel of clay in multiple colors, cut into thin slices exactly like a wheel of cheese. Isaac tried a small bite of this and confirmed that it was nothing more than regular clay, ¡°though in fairness, possibly an excellent vintage.¡± Jimothy broke off some pieces and amused himself by sculpting them into a miniature Arcadelt throughout their meal. But most of the food was edible. More than edible, it was amazing. A deep hunger awoke in Elizabeth at the sight and smells of the smorgasbord presented to her. This was a feast¨Ca peculiar one to be sure, but a feast nevertheless, and for all she knew it would be her last. She partook of the roast, a beefy meat in a sweet brown gravy. It came with stewed vegetables, still crisp and flavorful. She helped herself to a dish of spicy brown noodles with a sweet peppery glaze. A stack of fibrous chewy stalks, dipped into several colorful sauces. Golden honeyed rolls, crusty on the outside but chewy within. Some kind of buttery saut¨¦ed shellfish served over blue and gold rice. She tried all of this, and yet Elizabeth was the conservative one among them in terms of culinary restraint. Isaac and Eric were trying everything. Jimothy had found something he liked and gone all-in, his plate heaped with the honeyed rolls. Kate, the vegetarian in their midst, still had plenty of options, though some foods seemed borderline. She had summoned chopsticks to eat with and mostly tried to place food into her mouth while staring up at their servers, with predictable results. Eric finally got his coffee, which he declared odd but acceptable. Silence reigned for a time as they were all torn between devouring their food with as much dignity as each of them cared to muster and watching their gravity-defying servers. The quaalith were never still. They descended and ascended without rest, bearing up empty or near-empty trays of food and returning with new varieties. They learned rapidly which of their guests desired which foods, so that the vegetables ended up clustered around Kate and the more exotic foods found their way over to Isaac. Elizabeth kept an eye out for a repeat of the ¡®special,¡¯ not sure whether she cared to inform Isaac of its nature should he find it in front of him. It never appeared, but that was no guarantee something similar was not present. ¡°Anyway,¡± said Isaac after several minutes, as they began to come up for air. ¡°Let¡¯s talk business. That Arcadelt stuff.¡± Oh. Right. She¡¯d been so distracted by the food¡­ Isaac was looking at her, and so was everyone else. Elizabeth took a drink of water before responding. ¡°We are in a story, correct?¡± He nodded, then shrugged. ¡°So what kind of story is it?¡± she asked. ¡°Does that not seem important to know?¡± ¡°I think it¡¯s like a fairy tale!¡± said Kate, pointing her chopsticks at Elizabeth. ¡°I have a palace!¡± ¡°Not much of a fairy tale over on the Hollow Moon, I can tell you that,¡± said Eric. ¡°More like some post-apocalyptic sci-fi shit.¡± ¡°But if this is a story,¡± Kate declared, ¡°it was written by someone with no understanding of fundamental theory! Time? Space? Gravity? Theydon¡¯tevenreallyexist!¡± She brought an outraged fist down upon the table, making her plate jump. She jumped too, as though she had startled herself. ¡°I was thinking of what¡¯s happened to Jimothy,¡± Elizabeth said. That got their attention. She met the wide brown eyes of Jimothy as she continued. ¡°Senseless murder. Is that the kind of story this is? Does that sound like a fairy tale?¡± ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ve been thinking,¡± said Isaac. ¡°Just from what you¡¯ve all told me so far about what your moons are like, and then seeing this place, I think I get it.¡± ¡°Do explain,¡± said Kate with an elaborate permissive wave of her hand. ¡°So it¡¯s not a fairy tale,¡± he pointed at Kate. ¡°Not some pulp science fiction or D&D fantasy,¡± he pointed at himself. ¡°Not an anime [Eric], or an opera [Elizabeth], or a horror novel [Heidi¡¯s empty seat], or whatever you contributed, Jim. It¡¯s this big monster mash-up of all of that.¡± ¡°Monster Mash,¡± said Kate. ¡°Heheh. Hey how do you go to the bathroom in that suit?¡± ¡°Hey how do you not stutter when you¡¯re drunk?¡± The glass teleported across the room before it hit Isaac in the face, but its contents splashed all over his black spacesuit. Isaac didn¡¯t seem to mind, even when it steamed in complex double-helixes up to the ceiling. ¡°So you believe,¡± said Elizabeth slowly, ¡°that this world is the way it is because of us?¡± He nodded. ¡°I think if it were six different people, it would all be different. Or at least some of it. The moons would be different. It¡¯s pretty obvious that our moons are custom made, right? Just for us. I mean, what are the odds Kate just happened to get a moon full of butterflies?¡± Eric nodded. ¡°I got a city. And I have to admit, it¡¯s badass as fuck.¡± ¡°Of course,¡± Elizabeth agreed. ¡°Mine is the ¡®Garden Moon.¡¯ I need to make a flower grow. I don¡¯t quite understand the ¡®hero of movement¡¯ bit, but¡­¡± ¡°It¡¯s your dancing, Liz!¡± said Kate, reaching over to take Elizabeth¡¯s arm. ¡°You move so beautifully!¡± ¡°It¡¯s not just our moons,¡± said Isaac. ¡°I think maybe other things are affected.¡± ¡°But what about Michael?¡± asked Jimothy. ¡°And everyone else? On Earth?¡± ¡°Jim, what does the Line say?¡± asked Isaac. Judging from his expression, he considered Jim¡¯s answer important. Jimothy looked embarrassed. ¡°We¡¯re real. Just us. Nothing else here.¡± ¡°¡®Cause it¡¯s a dream,¡± said Kate, slumping back onto the table. ¡°We came here through the Museum. Dream Museum. But it¡¯s real.¡± ¡°That doesn¡¯t make sense,¡± said Eric. ¡°It kind-of does, though,¡± said Isaac. ¡°It is like a dream here. I feel like I react differently to things here. Like, I¡¯m not afraid of things I would normally be afraid of. Like the ghosts on my station. And I just kind-of know how to¡­¡± He squinted at his plate, concentrating, and it changed. It was, in fact, Elizabeth¡¯s plate. The remains of her unfinished meal lay scattered upon it. Elizabeth looked down. Isaac¡¯s plate, right where hers had been. ¡°Can¡¯t you all kind of tell that something¡¯s different? Don¡¯t you feel a little different?¡± A moment of silence as they processed this. For her part, Elizabeth wasn¡¯t sure. She certainly felt a bit peculiar at the moment, but that was not because of being here in this world. ¡°So what do we do now?¡± asked Jimothy. ¡°Simple,¡± said Isaac. ¡°We win.¡± ¡°Win?¡± said Eric. ¡°We do our moon quests. We explore Ardia. We protect it from the Dark World. We beat the Dark Ruler, take his key, open the door. And,¡± he said, forestalling another comment from Eric, ¡°we do all of this while keeping an eye out for plot holes and shortcuts. Maybe there¡¯s an easier way out of here. Maybe we don¡¯t want another way out.¡± ¡°Why the hell wouldn¡¯t we want another way out?¡± asked Eric. ¡°What if this shit takes months? Years?¡± ¡°Remember what was happening on Earth? When we left? Jacob said it was basically the end of the world.¡± ¡°Elmer and Amelia said something similar,¡± said Elizabeth. ¡°Uncle Riley what are you doing?¡± moaned Kate from the tabletop. ¡°What if opening that white door is how we fix it?¡± said Isaac. ¡°So what, we just fucking save the world?¡± ¡°Obviously. Haven¡¯t you been paying attention? This is a save-the-world kind of story, bro.¡± ¡°The kind of story where we can die, too,¡± said Eric. ¡°We were in that kind of story already,¡± Isaac replied. They both laughed at this. Elizabeth rolled her eyes. What was with all their macabre inside jokes? ¡°Um. I meant,¡± said Jimothy, ¡°what do we do right now?¡± ¡°Oh,¡± said Isaac. ¡°Hmm.¡± ¡°Is it not obvious?¡± said Elizabeth. She stood slowly and stretched. Everyone looked at her. She stared back in surprise. ¡°We¡¯re going to Hyperion, of course,¡± she told them. ¡°If there is a giant murderous wolf haunting Jimothy¡¯s moon, he¡¯s not going back there alone. And once we¡¯ve made sure of Jim¡¯s safety, on to Orpheus.¡± The agreement was almost unanimous once they understood. The objector, surprisingly, was Jimothy. He shook his head emphatically. ¡°Maugrim might kill you! I don¡¯t think he will try to kill me. Um. Maybe not yet, anyway.¡± Eric shook his head. ¡°Not good enough. If Albino Clifford tries to mess with you, we fuck him up.¡± ¡°Yeah!¡± said Kate. ¡°We¡¯ll do it together,¡± said Isaac. ¡°Yeah!¡± said Kate. ¡°We¡¯ll go with you at least for tonight,¡± said Elizabeth. ¡°It will be good to see your moon. It sounds intriguing.¡± ¡°Yeeeaaugh!¡± Kate slipped off her chair and onto the floor. The sound of giggling rose from her empty seat. ¡°Arcadelt!¡± said Isaac. Arcadelt was behind him, a towering shape of shining crystal, razor-sharp edges, shimmering elderstone. Isaac didn¡¯t appear to notice, but continued regardless. ¡°How can we get to Jim¡¯s moon?¡± At the height of the central tower of Skywater Citadel was a hexagonal platform, which should be familiar to them. Six doors stood already in place at this platform. Their medallions could be calibrated to any extant door of theirs, including these. There were several locations throughout the Narrative where their doors were already in place and did not need to be created. Lady Rains could take them up there to that platform. She was waiting just outside. ¡°Cool,¡± said Isaac. ¡°One more thing. Can you show us the white door? Where is it, exactly?¡± The white door at the heart of Skywater Citadel was underground, behind a deadly and comprehensive array of security measures. The most significant of these security measures was standing behind Isaac. This white door stood alone in a vast chamber of white elderstone, among a forest of columns that supported the weight of the Citadel above. The white door was carved of elderstone itself. It was ten feet tall, without knob or keyhole, and no force in existence could damage or displace it. Should all else burn to dust in the light of a thousand Bright Worlds, that door would remain. Even the Lords and Ladies could not enter that room. Only Arcadelt, the Angel of Skywater, could enter. Should the heroes wish to see the door, they must all six be present, or else bear the dark key. ¡°Okay,¡± said Isaac. Only then did he become aware of Arcadelt right behind him, clanging faintly. He jumped as he turned around. Lady Rains entered the room as they stood and collected their belongings. Their angels, who had mostly been dozing by the fire after partaking of their own specially prepared dishes, stirred themselves to wakefulness. Lady Rains was wet; her leathery cloak gleamed in the flickering firelight. Beads of moisture collected on her rough, gray shroud and slid down when she moved, dampening the carpet. Shark skin, Elizabeth realized. It was shark skin. Like all the other Ladies she was hunched, still rather tall, and her ¡®cloak¡¯ looked more and more like wings folded up around her the longer Elizabeth watched. A small dark aperture for her face watched them as they prepared to leave. Elizabeth thought she could see an actual eye in those depths glinting in the red light of the hearth. But there was one more thing they should know before they left. Arcadelt, besides enabling their angels to communicate with them more clearly, had activated within them the ability to grow in power and utility by bonding to something. Their angels would acquire many properties of that to which they bonded, a process which was somewhat unpredictable. This bonding could take place only once, and the change would be significant and permanent. Care should therefore be taken. The options for such a bonding were nearly limitless. Angels could even bond to sentient beings, though in this case the consciousness and knowledge of the angel would subsume into that of the sentient being, rendering this option inadvisable in most cases. That was all. Arcadelt disappeared from their midst, leaving only Lady Rains. Without a word, she turned and led them away. Elizabeth went first, and she mulled over what Arcadelt had told them. They turned a corner, then another. They passed through a room full of maps, in which brown-robed men hunched over parchments on tables, and on one wall a holographic projection displayed the slowly rotating planet of Ardia. It was just past here that Lady Rains took them through a silver door and into a warm ghostly half-light, dispelling all thoughts of angels and bondings. Beyond the door stretched a balcony of elderstone that shimmered under their feet. A white railing several paces ahead separated them from the starry haze beyond. Elizabeth stepped to the balcony and gasped. The city spread out below her, a sea of colored lights not so much different from the stars above. Luminous clouds traced the horizons, but the skies were dark save for stars and moons. The crystalline spires of the Citadel, below her, radiated their own false twilight and cast a flickering glow over the entire structure. ¡°We never went up, though,¡± muttered Isaac behind her, sounding both annoyed and intrigued. They had indeed never ascended so much as a step. Yet here they were, higher than everything else in sight. Higher, for all she knew, than anything else on this planet. Lady Rains joined them on the balcony. There was plenty of room; the balcony was several paces wide and encircled the entire top of this white tower. Stairs cut into the elderstone led up to the summit where Elizabeth knew their doors stood. ¡°Kate!¡± said Jimothy in alarm. Kate had been leaning out over the railing to get a better view. She had overbalanced, but a cage of green light stopped her before she tipped completely over. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, guys!¡± said Kate. She adjusted her guitar and stepped unsteadily back from the edge. ¡°Falling is totally my thing!¡± Elizabeth became aware of a strange whispering. It echoed through the air around her, stirring the rippling light within the elderstone and the misty haze around the Citadel. It was almost like music, if rain and mist and whispers could be woven into the subtlest melody. A drop of water splashed against her wrist; Elizabeth glanced down in time to see the tiny glint of violet light wink out. Another struck the stone at her feet. She saw it come down, a minute point of red that struck an equally miniscule ripple of color off the elderstone. And then another, deepest blue, right beside her boot. Lady Rains had her hands raised to the heavens, and the whispered chant reached a climax before she fell silent. Elizabeth had just enough time to extract her umbrella from her bundle of belongings and pop it open over her head. The rain came softly, in a quiet rush that blanketed the city. Elizabeth had never seen a luminous rain before. Its shifting and overlapping curtains were visible as ghostly folds of light, a grounded aurora drawn like thick sheets over the city, reaching as high as the top of the Citadel where they stood. The elderstone of the Citadel luxuriated in the rain. It sparkled with light, struck by a million stimulating pinpricks. Elizabeth sighed, awestruck by yet another remarkable spectacle. This was getting exhausting, honestly. To her left Isaac, Kate, and Jimothy grouped together beneath a leaf-shaped construct of blue light. It hung unmoving and unsupported in the air. It reminded Elizabeth vividly of Amelia Shape, conjuring a yellow umbrella out of nothing. Eric, to her right, muttered some private joke about radioactive fallout. He was getting soaked by the rain, including the red headphones around his neck, but didn¡¯t seem to mind. It tapped loudly on the tarp across his shoulders. ¡°Hey,¡± she said to him. She held out her umbrella a few inches in his direction. He took the hint and huddled next to her under its shelter. He smelled like mud, like an old musty thing getting wet. That was probably the shred of old gray tarpaulin he was wearing as a cape. There was something she needed to talk to Eric about. Her heart beat faster contemplating it. Was this the time? There might not be a better one. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She did it again. Then she said, ¡°So.¡± She kept her voice cool and neutral. ¡°There was something you wished to speak with me about?¡± Eric scoffed a laugh. He didn¡¯t look at her. He kept his gaze out on the city. ¡°Gonna play it like that, huh? What I¡¯m thinking is, if you can¡¯t already tell me what I¡¯m gonna say, then the whole point is moot.¡± That made her smile. Oh, Eric. ¡°You have¡­¡± she wanted to say it easily, to have it roll carelessly from her tongue, but despite all her intentions, the words got caught up. She forced them through. ¡°¡­feelings for me.¡± He laughed again, a wry grunt. He started saying something, then stopped and muttered, ¡°Sounds right.¡± ¡°Well,¡± she began. A good start. But what to follow? Best to get things right out in the open, exactly as they were. ¡°As for me¡­you are a good friend. But beyond that, my feelings are¡­unclear.¡± Very descriptive, Elizabeth. Her heart raced. ¡°Well that¡¯s okay, they¡¯re pretty fucking scuffed over on my end too,¡± said Eric. Was he upset? Relieved? Disappointed? Hard to tell. He was trying so hard to play it cool, as always. But inside, were his emotions in turmoil like hers? ¡°We should leave it at that for now,¡± said Elizabeth. She wished she could give him a better answer. This was the first time in her life that someone had expressed an interest in her whom she would actually consider responding to in kind. And it had come at the worst possible time. ¡°Agreed,¡± said Eric. ¡°But when we get some time, like when we¡¯re not all tired and you¡¯re not half-stoned and we¡¯re not all about to go confront a wolf god or some shit¡­let¡¯s talk.¡± She nodded. ¡°Agreed.¡± What was she feeling? Relief, mainly, that the moment had passed without undue drama. Relief that Eric was still Eric, even if he maybe had a crush on her. Thinking of it in those terms (¡®crush¡¯), admitting it to herself in those terms¡­it gave her flutters in the pit of her stomach. ¡°We could hold hands, though,¡± she said, surprised at her own words even while she spoke them. She didn¡¯t disagree with them, though, once they had left her lips. Eric thought for a moment. ¡°Yeah,¡± he said. ¡°That¡¯s good.¡± She transferred the umbrella to her other hand and reached down for his. Both of their hands were clammy, but his was warm, too. And he was right. It was good. They stood together, watching a blurred city of running watercolors. Her job done, Lady Rains departed without a word. Eric glanced around as she left. ¡°You hear something?¡± he asked. ¡°No,¡± she said. ¡°Huh. Just¡­worried about Leah, I guess.¡± Elizabeth nodded. She understood, and he knew that. ¡°By the way,¡± said Eric with a grin, ¡°I can totally sense your heartbeat. Like, all the time. That¡¯s my thing. Just thought you should know.¡± Elizabeth had no response to this. The Theians joined them after a few more minutes of rain-gazing, and that was their cue. It was time to go. They hiked up the exterior stairs and onto the broad hexagonal platform at the summit of the Citadel. Six doors. Elizabeth spotted her own at once, the pleasant white door with windows. Isaac¡¯s was a silvery metallic arch. Eric¡¯s was of heavy, dark wood. Kate¡¯s was colorful and bright. Jimothy¡¯s was an intimidating block of black granite. That left the metal door, the one that looked like it protected a vault. Elizabeth tried that door, but she already knew, somehow, that it wouldn¡¯t work. Only Heidi¡¯s medallion could make that door open. Kate first let the Theians back through her own door. She simply had to touch her medallion to it, and it was calibrated. As simple as that. She opened it onto her moon, which was just as rainy but substantially windier. The moths and butterflies filed through, and she said goodbye to each one by name, instructing them to make themselves at home in her palace, except for maybe the lab. One of them, the striking white one with a name that had ¡®slush¡¯ in it, gifted them with a pouch of a hot sweet drink, similar to honeyed hot chocolate, that they shared between them. Isaac could not resist taking a peek onto Kate¡¯s moon for a minute just to see what it looked like, and he also could not resist making sure that everyone heard his joke about rain being ¡°sky water.¡± ¡°One more thing,¡± said Jimothy as they drank from mist-made mugs after the Theians had gone, ¡°before we go. Can we¡­we should take a picture. Or something. For Heidi. Since she¡¯s not here.¡± So they did. Isaac summoned a drone from his space station to take pictures of them and their angels, the city and the rain as a backdrop. On Kate¡¯s suggestion, they also each sent her an encouraging message of their own via CHIME. ¡°Let¡¯s do it,¡± said Elizabeth once it was just the five of them and their angels, in the shining rain on top of the world. ¡°We get Jimothy home. We figure out the rest from there.¡± Jimothy tapped his door with his medallion and pushed through into a deep darkness. The rest of them followed close behind. Chapter 41 Chapter 41 Jimothy It was dark on the Color Moon when Jimothy led them through the door. He had stopped thinking of the time of darkness as ¡°night.¡± He liked the nighttime back on Earth. This wasn¡¯t nighttime. He at once created a pool of light around them by making his cane shine and holding it up to push back the writhing shadows. A menacing hiss cut through the black night. A warning. Jim briefly considered taking them to see the window, the one of stained glass that he had put together not far away in the ruins. But no, not now. There were monsters out. ¡°So,¡± said Eric, casual as ever, ¡°where¡¯s the lighthouse?¡± He said this while unsheathing the weird sword from his back and doing something to make it glow green. It hummed faintly. ¡°Um¡­¡± The lighthouse was too far for its meager light to be seen. He understood again, for the hundredth time, what he needed to do and why. He needed to fill the top of that lighthouse with light. But not the light of Niri. He had already decided. He remembered deciding also that he wouldn¡¯t bring anybody back with him. But looking at them now¨CIsaac and Eric and Elizabeth and Kate¨Che couldn¡¯t make himself feel bad about it. He was glad they were here. Something growled out in the darkness. Closer, closer. The shadows moved at the corners of his light. Jimothy felt the crystal in his pocket. He had used up a lot of its light during his breakdown back in the city. It still had some. Enough, probably, to get them back to the lighthouse. He wouldn¡¯t be able to put it up at the top afterwards if he used it all up now, but that was okay. ¡°Hazel,¡± said Jim, ¡°can you lead the way, boy?¡± Hazel took a quick break from growling back at the shadows, hackles raised, to bark at Jim and reposition himself. Jimothy understood that to be an affirmative. For an instant he understood the world as Hazel did¨Cnot with sight, nor even with smells like a normal dog, but in some other way. Hazel knew where everything was, even in the darkness. He had a sense of the lighthouse from here, although he could not simply whisk Jimothy away through this shadow. None of the angels could. Jimothy did not stop to wonder how Hazel had told him all of this. ¡°He can lead us,¡± Jimothy told them. He took the crystal out of his pocket. ¡°The darkness is full of monsters,¡± he said. ¡°Be careful about your shadows. Um. It might be dangerous. They seem¡­bigger.¡± The churning darkness pressed in violently against his light. Glowing sets of eyes were watching, moving, circling. Some of them were larger than he had seen before, and they were certainly more numerous. ¡°Well then,¡± said Elizabeth. ¡°Isaac, can you do something with these?¡± She handed him her bundle of heavy clothes, but kept her umbrella. Isaac made the clothes disappear. Jimothy did not understand how he did that. And then Eric was putting on his headphones for some reason, starting to listen to music, which also confused Jimothy. Isaac was fastening that shiny black-visored helmet onto his suit, and now he was holding some kind of laser gun. Elizabeth was stretching as though she was about to start dancing. Kate, though still unsteady, was strapping on her bass and striking a few isolated notes for tuning. She frowned and squinted comically into nothing. ¡°Ready?¡± said Isaac after a moment. His voice crackled from speakers on his suit. ¡°Ready,¡± said Eric as he nodded his head to music only he could hear. The others agreed. Ready. So they went. For Jimothy, thinking back on this later, it was all a swirl of feelings, images, and small, distinct memories. He had been out of breath for a lot of it, he remembered. He had been panting, sweating, wishing he hadn¡¯t just eaten so much food. They saw monsters: small inky-black goblins of darkness like the ones he¡¯d seen when he first arrived, and bigger spidery creatures all horrible with their many legs and gleaming eyes, and huge shapes that make the ground shake when they stepped, and also crawling snake-shapes. Jimothy tried to ward them off with bright light, but the big ones stepped out from the shadows and approached anyway. Sometimes Jimothy focused the light on them, making it bright, bright, bright as the sun. They evaporated like smoke in this light, but the sudden darkness elsewhere let them close in on other sides. Eventually he just followed Hazel while creating as much light as he could so that his friends could clear the way. This was the most he could do, when he also had to focus on walking without falling, and carrying Kate on a bed of light like he had with Niri because she couldn¡¯t really walk either. Isaac strode deliberately, step by step, shooting short bursts of purple lasers from the strange handgun he carried. He sometimes aimed at things without looking. The purple lasers cut right through the monsters, and they made a weird humming sound as they flashed in the darkness. Elizabeth danced, kind of. Maybe it was her martial arts? Jim couldn¡¯t tell. She whacked the shadow monsters with her closed umbrella, and they burst apart or flew through the air as though a wrecking ball in full swing had hit them rather than an umbrella swung by a teenage girl. She was amazing to watch, even though she sometimes stumbled and messed up. Once she fell, and because Jimothy was watching her, he fell too. A humongous shadow loomed up over her, and Jimothy made light inside of it before he knew what he was doing. The enemy burst apart into greasy darkness and left only the spiky orange shape Jimothy had created inside of it hanging in the air. Eric did something strange. He flickered around, here and there, and sometimes looked like he was in two places at once. He was moving in a rhythm. His green sword flashed, cleaving through shadow after confused shadow. The rhythm to which Eric moved matched the music that Kate made on her bass. It was a strange music; it made Jimothy¡¯s light pulse in time to its subtle beat, which matched Eric¡¯s stuttering movements, which matched the peculiar combative dance that Elizabeth was dancing. She messed up sometimes by missing a beat or squeaking the strings, which caused Elizabeth to stumble but did not hinder Eric. Jimothy had used most of the light of the crystal when Hazel, leading the way, barked. Ahead, Jimothy saw the light atop the lighthouse, a faint glow through the darkness. Not far away. ¡°We¡¯re close!¡± he shouted. ¡°Good,¡± said the faintly distorted voice of Isaac nearby. ¡°I¡¯m out.¡± He threw his weapon down and took his helmet off. It disappeared in his hands. He looked exhausted. ¡°Suit¡¯s almost dead. How close?¡± ¡°What?¡± said Jimothy. ¡°How close are we?¡± Isaac asked. ¡°Our DPS are almost out too, Jim.¡± DPS? ¡°Um. Just another couple minutes, I think,¡± said Jimothy. The distraction of speaking caused him to trip over his own feet. Isaac was too late to catch him, but he helped Jim back up and put Jim¡¯s arm around his shoulders. Jimothy¡¯s fall had caused him to briefly lose the focus necessary to sustain the surrounding light. For a moment, it was dark. When he threw the light back around them, it was crawling with monsters. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°Let¡¯s hurry,¡± said Isaac. And then, in an instant, something crushed the shadows all around them. All at once, the inky monsters flattened into nothing with a shuddering thump. Kate¡¯s music faltered to a halt, and in the silence Jimothy heard a growl that shook the earth under his feet. Hazel returned with an answering growl, and the other angels joined in. Callie hissed; Frisby chirped. A paw stood on the path in front of Jimothy. It was as big as he was, gray as the dawn. Jimothy followed it up. Two shining eyes, far above, had replaced the glimpse of light from his lighthouse. Maugrim¡¯s leg cast a shadow in Jim¡¯s light, but no monsters dared to appear inside of it. You are running out of light, said the wolf. ¡°Yeah,¡± said Jimothy, so softly that he didn¡¯t think Maugrim could hear him. Eric stumbled up to Jimothy and Isaac, panting, covered in sweat, holding his side and grimacing. Elizabeth remained apart from them, her hands and umbrella covered in dripping darkness as she stared up defiantly at the wolf. Why have you not used the light I gave you? asked Maugrim. You could use it now. ¡°N-no,¡± said Jimothy, trembling. ¡°I won¡¯t. I don¡¯t think¡­¡± The head of Maugrim, so large that it could snap Jim up in a single bite, lowered down into the light, until it was only thirty feet in front of Jimothy. Those huge gray eyes were cold and terrible. Why not? With that light¡­ He paused as Elizabeth limped onto the path in-between Jim and the great wolf. She supported herself partially on that yellow umbrella, but she looked up at Maugrim and said, ¡°You leave him alone.¡± Her voice was tired and shaky. She looked so small and fragile there in front of the huge fangs. Here is light, said Maugrim. Why not her? In a single swift motion, the wolf stepped forward, knocked Elizabeth to the dust with a paw, and pinned her there. Elizabeth cried out softly as the breath was crushed from her lungs. She struggled feebly under his paw. With this one¡¯s light, you could banish the darkness, said Maugrim. He raised the paw pinning Elizabeth, and Jimothy knew what Maugrim was about to do; he had seen it before. Jimothy put every speck of his light into what he did next. It was a simple idea: stop the paw. Stop Maugrim from killing Elizabeth. That was all that mattered. So Jimothy created a plane of light¨Cflat, blue, parallel to the ground, and directly through the middle of Maugrim¡¯s leg. It met a powerful resistance, and Jimothy used up all his light. If he¡¯d had Niri¡¯s light on his person, he would have used that. It was barely enough. Maugrim howled as darkness blinked into being around them, all illumination sucked away. His howl was a cry of agony. It vanished with Maugrim away into the blackness. For a second, all that was visible was the plane of blue light above them. Then that too vanished. Jimothy blinked, but saw only darkness. Confusion, cold, a sudden headache. An arm around his shoulders kept him upright. Then, light. Not his own light, but light from a flashlight, weakly illuminating a small area. Elizabeth sat in front of them on the path, spluttering softly, entirely covered in something dark and viscous. Eric crouched next to her, which meant it was Isaac keeping Jim up, and Isaac providing the dim light. ¡°Liz!¡± said Eric. ¡°You ok?¡± Elizabeth took a long moment to make sure before nodding. She wiped and wiped at the black stuff covering her, trying to get it out of her hair, her face, her eyes. ¡°Ink,¡± she said softly. She sounded like she might be crying. ¡°Ink.¡± Beyond her, like a fallen log across the path to the lighthouse, lay Maugrim¡¯s leg, severed just above the knee joint, much of the pale fur stained black. ¡°Guys,¡± said Isaac. ¡°I¡¯m almost out of battery. We need to move.¡± Eric helped Elizabeth to her feet. She looked like some new version of one of the shadow monsters they had just been fighting. ¡°I can walk,¡± said Elizabeth, though she kept her feet unsteadily when Eric let her go. ¡°Get Kate.¡± Kate was fast asleep, sprawled in the dust behind Jim where he¡¯d dropped her after using all his light. And so, with Elizabeth leading the way, helped by Callie, and with Isaac supporting Jimothy, and with Eric carrying Kate with the help of Hazel, they at last arrived at the lighthouse. And that had been about an hour ago. Everyone had been tired, but no one had wanted to sleep right away, except for Kate, who didn¡¯t want to wake up. The shadows had beaten Eric up and cut one of his arms. He made a joke about matching Jacob that no one had the energy to ask about. Something had caused Elizabeth to limp, and she said she¡¯d have bruises from Maugrim¡¯s treatment, but she was otherwise fine. She was the first to use the shower, and she was in there a long time. Isaac seemed fine, though his suit had lost all battery. He climbed out of it in shorts and a t-shirt. They were all sweaty and tired. They ascended to the floor of the lighthouse with the guest bedrooms and lounge area. They bathed in the two guest baths, they borrowed Jim¡¯s spare clothes, and they decided to talk about everything in the morning. What to do next. Eric said he wanted to go check on Heidi. Isaac said he wanted to finish ARKO. Elizabeth didn¡¯t say. And now Jimothy sat on the edge of his bed in green flannel pajamas, unable to sleep, holding a box containing the soul of a mysterious and beautiful stranger. He didn¡¯t know what to do with it. And he couldn¡¯t sleep. And it wasn¡¯t just because of his headache. He stood, put the box on his bedside stand, and padded out of his room to the lounge area. He smiled when he saw what was there. They had originally laid Kate on the couch and then Isaac, Eric, and Elizabeth had taken three of the five small guest rooms. But now they were all there, huddled on the floor in a mass of pillows and blankets beside the couch that Kate had apparently rolled out of. Isaac¡¯s teeth were still blue. Elizabeth still had ink on her. They were all asleep, and their angels were there with them: Callie curled up beside Elizabeth, Frisby Wiser on top of Eric¡¯s back, Navi the butterfly resting on Kate¡¯s knee. Only Charlie was awake. He was an owl now, and his head swiveled to watch Jimothy as he went to his bedroom, pulled up some blankets from the bed, and returned to the lounge. Jimothy wrapped himself up in blankets and lay down on the floor right by Elizabeth¡¯s feet and Isaac¡¯s head. Hazel appeared as he was getting comfortable, inviting Jimothy to use him as a pillow. Jimothy knew better than that; this pillow would run away in the night. They had left the light on. So had Jimothy, every night that he had been here, on the Color Moon, alone. But now, with a tiny flicker of color, Jimothy clicked off the light switch on the other side of the room, leaving him in the warm darkness, where all he could see was the faint glow of the lighthouse outside the window, and all he could hear was the soft breathing of his friends. It never even occurred to him to wonder whether they were real. Chapter 42 Chapter 42 Dwayne Hartman Dwayne Hartman saw his deceased ex-wife, Helen, in the fog the next morning. He saw the first man he had ever killed. He saw the jungle, the flashing lights, heard the thunder, heard an echo of a memory of the Voice of God. He saw friends that had died, places he had been. He saw himself as he had been, or as he might have been. Several times he saw Isaac Milton. Dwayne did not like the fog; he did not trust it. But he did trust God, even when he was lost in an endless gray sea with a confused young man that argued with himself. Even when his truck broke down on an empty highway. Even when he hadn¡¯t seen another vehicle in hours, which was odd even for this Montanan road. Even when he had seen the body of Isaac Milton, dead on the main street of Pikeston. Even when the world, according to Jacob Hollow, was coming to a sudden and unexpected end. He sat in the truck and took stock of their assets. They weren¡¯t many. Half a pack of cigarettes, for one. He had smoked too many during this drive. Well, he could allow himself that. As for food and water, Jacob was out fetching some from a deserted gas station they had passed by earlier. They had some maps which didn¡¯t seem to be of much use. His shotgun. Isaac¡¯s hat. A spare tire with a jack, some assorted tools. A tank mostly full of gas. Not much else. He dropped the oil-stained cigarettes onto the seat of the truck and turned out the open door. His canes leaned against the rusty side panel. He took them, planted them firmly in the gravel, and lowered himself with a grimace to his feet. It always ached, that first pressure, the first time his legs took his weight. A sharp twinge in the hips made him suck in his breath. The cold dankness of the fog didn¡¯t help. But he settled his weight, acclimated to the pain, and walked with the aid of the canes around to the hood of the pickup. He already knew it was hopeless. He had just spent a half hour fiddling with the inner workings of this machine. Countless times before he had fixed it up. He had patched, braced, taped, and jerry-rigged this engine for years now. It could still be fixed. Dwayne Hartman firmly believed that all things could be fixed, given the right tools and enough time. But here, now, this truck would not be going anywhere. He needed an entire mechanic¡¯s garage and a day¡¯s work to extend the life of this already decrepit vehicle. Jacob Hollow had declared it ¡®bad luck¡¯ that they had broken down here at a critical moment. Dwayne Hartman did not believe in luck, of either the good or the bad variety. If they had broken down here, unable to fix the engine and without another means of transport, then it was because this was where God wanted them to be. He offered up a prayer, not for guidance but for faith. A shape moved in the corner of his eye. Pain spiked through his hips as he lumbered about to face it. The shape was not Jacob returning with the supplies. It was not a person at all. It was a darkness: black against black, a void in the gray, approaching. Dwayne had seen it before. Boots crunched on the gravel as a figure emerged from the dark, a tall figure wearing black, two revolvers at his sides, and one look at his yellow bloodshot eyes was enough to tell Dwayne Hartman that he was faced with not a man, but a monster. Hold fast. ¡°Sho it¡¯sh you,¡± said the stranger, who came to a halt five paces away. His bleeding lips spread in a ghastly smile over stained teeth. ¡°Where¡¯sh that light?¡± He looked theatrically to the left, to the right. ¡°I don¡¯t shee it.¡± Dwayne¡¯s legs nearly gave out; he leaned back against the cool damp side of the truck. He gripped his canes and shoved them into the gravel to steady himself. ¡°Who are you?¡± he asked, though he knew perfectly well. The man swept off his hat and bowed low to the ground. His movement was somehow wrong. It was too smooth, the mocking bow too low. ¡°The name¡¯sh Abraham Black. Homelesh now, I¡¯m afraid.¡± He replaced his hat with a satisfied leer. ¡°I¡¯m Dwayne. Dwayne Hartman.¡± He made the merest show of tipping his hat. ¡°I¡¯ve still got a home, I reckon.¡± His voice began to shake, and he steadied it through sheer willpower. ¡°Why¡¯d you do it, Abraham?¡± Abraham Black¡¯s smile faltered, replaced by a look of mild puzzlement¨Can odd expression on that wasted, ruined face. ¡°Isaac,¡± said Dwayne in clarification. ¡°You killed him. Shouldn¡¯t have done that.¡± Still struggling to keep cool, to keep his voice steady. He was no match for this beast before him, but such things had never mattered to him. God was mightier; that was what mattered. But now Abraham Black looked truly confused. He looked around at the fog as though for inspiration. ¡°Ishaac? Who¡¯sh that?¡± Abraham Black was caught off-guard. He was wary, uncertain. Dwayne Hartman had turned him away in the snow, at night, on the streets of Pikeston, in front of the Stocker house. And now Dwayne Hartman saw, for the briefest moment, a spark of a person within the horror. Dwayne knew that men could become monsters. He had seen it happen. But no matter how dark a road a man traveled down, or how far, or for how long, they never stopped being a person. No man, by any means, could remove himself from the love of God. Surely, that must apply even to such a creature as Abraham Black. You shall love your crooked neighbor with your crooked heart. Abraham Black leaned back. ¡°What¡¯sh with that shtare?¡± He hacked out a cruel laugh. ¡°You are a shtrange man, Dwayne Hartman. It¡¯sh a shtrange thing¡­¡± ¡°You too,¡± said Dwayne. ¡°A man¡­¡± said Abraham, musing. ¡°What do you shay if I show you what short of man I am?¡± The fog churned around them. It formed and reformed into scenes, places, landscapes. A red plain, the interior of a dark building, a burning forest, a place amongst the stars, and more that were fantastical beyond Dwayne¡¯s comprehension. Yet they shared common themes: death and Abraham Black and the thunder of his twin revolvers, like an unholy trinity¨Cinseparable, inescapable, omnipresent. Here he stood over a heap of corpses. Here he was, soaked in many-colored blood, hot and fresh from the vein. Here he was, taking vengeance. Here, destroying as he had been destroyed. Here, inflicting cruelty because of the cruel injustice done to him. Here, doing the only thing he knew to do, the thing he had been created for, the only thing he was good at: killing, breaking, unmaking. He walked along with Death; it had become his only friend. And a long, long way he had to walk before he reached The End. And who assaileth Death? That mighty beast, no one will dare, for the bones of gods and heroes lie in heaps within His lair. For hopes, and dreams, and prayers are the bricks that pave the road, bright and straight and slick with blood, leading to that beast¡¯s abode. So roll on thunder, roll on like the rains, come like Death and come again. Smokestack eyes and skin of wax, vengeance will be Abraham Black¡¯s. And here came the thunder, like rain on every scene of death that Dwayne saw. Not the distant grumble of a storm on the horizon, but the horrendous rippling crack of a lightning strike close at hand¨Ca sound Dwayne knew well. Thunder, death. Thunder, death. ¡°Stop,¡± said Dwayne Hartman, his voice weak, his ears ringing with the sound. ¡°Please. Stop.¡± It stopped. Dwayne was sitting on the cold gravel, his canes splayed uselessly at his sides. Abraham¡¯s mad rictus leered down at him. ¡°And that¡¯sh jusht the shtart,¡± he said. Dwayne felt tears in his eyes. He wiped them with a rough hand, then felt his heart, placed his hand on his chest over a beard damp from the fog. ¡°I¡­I¡¯m sorry,¡± he said. His voice cracked. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Abraham tilted his head. ¡°Shorry?¡± Dwayne did not understand what happened next, nor how, but his thoughts and feelings became manifest in the fog just as had Abraham¡¯s. And his, too, was thunder¨Cthunder in a dark jungle, hot and steamy, but thunder of an entirely different quality. Dwayne Hartman¡¯s thunder was the voice of God, descending holy and terrible from unseen heights in the night sky, a flashing brightness that cut the soul, a towering perfection, an immutable reality so pure that all faded to mist. The thunder of Dwayne Hartman was the voice of God, saying: HOLD FAST, and there is no going back. Hold fast to the truth, to what you have seen and heard, to the hope you confess. Hold fast like an anchor in the storm, for he who does not believe is flung by the waves. The thunder of Dwayne Hartman was a promise for the future. It was a burning coal on the lips, giving words to speak, giving praise, giving hope. The thunder of Dwayne Hartman was love, Love Itself, the presence of the Almighty God. And for just a brief moment, that presence was there with them in the fog. It lasted only a moment, and it startled Dwayne Hartman nearly as much as Abraham Black. All was still, all was quiet. ¡°¡­ah¡­¡± said Abraham Black, his expression blank. Dwayne Hartman nodded, wiping sweat from his forehead, tears from his eyes. ¡°Yup,¡± he murmured. ¡°Ah,¡± said Abraham again. ¡°Well. Let¡¯sh shay we¨C¡± A sound like the snapping of fingers echoed loud and clear from somewhere nearby. The sound dispelled the fog in a broad area around Dwayne, Abraham, and the broken-down pickup truck. Abraham and Dwayne turned to see Jacob approaching warily, his wounded hand tucked tightly to his chest, his other hand out, ready to snap. Abraham brightened up. ¡°Exshellent! Jusht the pershon I came to shee.¡± Jacob stopped a dozen steps from Black. ¡°What do you want? That man has done nothing to you.¡± ¡°Not quite true.¡± Abraham turned aside from Dwayne to face Jacob straight-on. ¡°And it¡¯sh funny to shee you defending him. He¡¯sh not the weakesht of the three of ush.¡± Abraham¡¯s smile had returned. ¡°What do you want?¡± Jacob repeated. He kept his eyes fixed on Abraham. ¡°I know you shpeak to them.¡± ¡°Who?¡± ¡°You know who. The voishesh. The demonsh. I know they¡¯re helping you. I know they eshcaped.¡± Jacob opened his mouth, closed it, licked his lips. ¡°How do you know?¡± ¡°A Shade told me.¡± ¡°And?¡± ¡°And I have a meshage for them.¡± Abraham¡¯s expression darkened from smug satisfaction to murderous rage. ¡°I¡¯m coming.¡± The snap and the thunder occurred simultaneously, as far as Dwayne could tell. Noise and light in equal measure, brief and stunning. In the next moment, Jacob Hollow lay dead on cold gravel while Abraham Black still stood. Abraham hissed in displeasure and touched a hand to his side. He was bleeding, but a dark greasy smoke leaked from his wound instead of blood. It neither rose nor fell, but gathered into a smeared mass of shadow in the air. Abraham disturbed this smoke when he turned and leveled a revolver at Dwayne Hartman. ¡°Why did you apologishe?¡± Dwayne Hartman, heart pounding, thought hard about his answer. At last, with a weak shrug and a cracking voice, he said, ¡°I could see that you¡¯ve been wronged. You¡¯re no monster. I misjudged you, and I¡¯m sorry. You¡¯re just a man, like me.¡± Then, thinking he had nothing left to lose, he added, ¡°God loves you, Abraham Black.¡± Abraham stood without moving for what seemed to Dwayne like a very long time. Then he simply said, ¡°No.¡± With an almost imperceptible movement, the revolver was back at his belt. ¡°But I won¡¯t kill you today.¡± Abraham turned and vanished back into the darkness whence he came. Dwayne leaned back against the pickup and tried to still his heart, to catch his breath. ¡°Why?¡± he asked. ¡°Why me? Why now?¡± He struggled back to his feet. ¡°I know,¡± he added, ¡°that ¡®why¡¯ is the most useless question to ask you.¡± Dwayne shuffled to the driver¡¯s side door, popped it open, and sat on the seat. He stared at the body of Jacob Hollow. He would have gone and checked, made sure. But he knew. Somehow, there was no doubt. Even if there wasn¡¯t a sizeable pool of blood there under the corpse, Jacob Hollow was completely dead. A meadowlark had landed on the gravel nearby and observed the body with interest. But what now? A new sound drifted out of the fog, interrupting his thoughts. It was the rubbery sound of something bouncing down the road on the surface of the asphalt. Behind it followed the purring of an engine and the faint glow of dimmed headlights. A vehicle approached. Dwayne watched from the side of the pickup, one hand on the shotgun that rested across the driver¡¯s seat, out of sight. The sound of the vehicle became a crunching of gravel as it turned off the road and approached Dwayne. A gold sedan emerged from the fog. Its headlights made hazy twin halos out of the vapor that swirled around it. The bouncing object came to rest on the damp gravel. The door of the newcomer¡¯s vehicle swung open on the driver¡¯s side. A young man stepped out, and Dwayne knew who this must be. ¡°Michael Whyte,¡± said Dwayne. ¡°Dwayne Hartman,¡± the man replied, relief obvious on his face. Michael looked around, caught sight of the body barely visible at the edge of the fog, and went pale. ¡°Son,¡± said Dwayne Hartman, ¡°we got a lot to talk about.¡± Michael nodded. ¡°Got your brother? He okay?¡± He nodded again. Dwayne Hartman no longer knew what to do or say, and he was not in the mood for sitting down and trying to figure it out. So he sang a hymn: ¡°All creatures of our god and king¡­¡±