“What? What do you mean? We have to get home!” Chloe’s raised voice sounded oddly hollow in the stillness of Tempus Lentus. Color began to rise to her face as she prepared to defend her cause to the short little man in front of her.

She didn’t need to, though. The Gnome spread out his arms in an appeal of patience. “I know, young Human, I know, and that is why I am going to help you get back there. In fact, I may be the only Faerie in the Kingdom who knows what’s going on and how to return you to your Terra.”

Chloe relaxed a little and let her defenses lower.

“Are you with me?” asked the Gnome. Chloe studied his face momentarily. The Gnome was serious, dead serious. She had no way of knowing that anything he said was true, but he certainly believed every word of it.

“Alright,” she said, finally, “But what about him?” she asked, pointing at the Dryad. He had moved slightly since the last time she had glanced at him, which was curious, because that meant that time hadn’t actually stopped. She sensed a trickle of it flowing through her body.

“Meric? Why, he’s coming with us, of course. He’s the only Faerie who survived the attack on the Gate in the first place, and perhaps, he holds the key to all of this. In any case, our lots have been thrown together, so together we shall remain.”

“Well, then,” said the red headed girl from Gunnison, Colorado.

Drake waited for a more concrete response, but when none was forthcoming, he gave her a gentle push towards the other Humans. “Right. You can control the Flux?” he asked.

“The what?”

“The Flux. That which allows us to slow down time? I could sense it in your Lifestrand.”

“My what?”

Chloe wasn’t catching on very quickly.

“Too many questions! So little time! I’m sorry, all shall be explained in time. But for now,” emphasized Drake, his eyebrows flaring upward and his little hands gesturing the need of the moment, “can you or can you not slow down time?”

“I can stop it,” replied Chloe tentatively.

“Actually,” countered Drake, “it only appears to be stopped. In fact, time is still moving, but at a very, very slow rate. If you actually pay atten…”

“No,” interrupted Chloe. “I can actually stop time.”

Drake raised an eyebrow. “Prove it.”

“I thought you said that there’s no time,” said Chloe cheekily.

“Well, if you’re right,” smirked Drake, “then we’ve got all the time in the world. Show me.”

Chloe felt for that little tug inside of her, followed the stream of time that was little more than a steady flow of droplets, and cut it off.

If it was possible at all, the silence became deeper. Where there was once a faint background hum, unnoticed until the moment that it was gone, now there was pure nothing. And Chloe was the only thing that moved within it.

She took a couple of steps towards Drake, bent down, pulled his cap off his head, drew his blade, little more than a dagger, that hung at his side, pulled his beard away from his face and positioned the knife a few feet above it.

There, now if that don’t show him, I dunno what will. I could do this all day!

Realizing that she had plenty of time on her hands, she walked over to where Meric was standing, curious about the tall Faerie’s appearance. He stood a little over a head above Chloe, lean and muscular. His skin, while a little paler perhaps than Chloe’s own skin, wasn’t smooth like a Human’s, but papery and flecked with streaks of silver and black. She felt along his arm, and sure enough, it reminded her of the bark of the Aspen trees that she knew so well from the mountains of Colorado. The green in his hair turned out not to be so much streaks of color as something organic and living, trailing down from the circlet of twigs and leaves which adorned his head.

Chloe enjoyed inspecting this Dryad, similar to how she inspected the very life-like but perfectly still stuffed creatures at the taxidermist’s place in Gunnison. She was fascinated by his tree-ness, although this ‘specimen’ was far more impressive than the massive moose head that hung from the wall or the mountain lion perched above the door waiting to pounce. She was, however, disappointed that his eyes, while still the exact same in appearance, lacked that spark of life that had so amazed her the first time she had seen him. There were merely beautiful glassy orbs, no more or less beautiful than her own eyes, or the eyes of the mountain lion back in Gunnison.

But they’re definitely a mite purtier than those huge brown eyeballs in that bull moose. Jus’ makes him look dumb.

She giggled just a bit, and then with a sigh, turned back to the inanimate form of Drake. There was a strain on her body, emanating from the tug, or the Flux as Drake had called it, not an urgent warning, but one that was growing perceptibly stronger by the moment, like she was hundreds of feet from a edge of a cliff, but walking towards it nonetheless. Apparently the Flux had its limits.

So, she found the Flux, and nudged herself back towards Drake’s time. The hum reappeared, and Drake leapt back with a howl, grasped at his capless head, and then pointed at the knife, which was still suspended in the air.

Chloe couldn’t understand this last fact. Before, when she had released her hold on time, it had started to fall right away.

“You meant that to cut off my beard, didn’t you!” he accused, chuckling. “Of all the things to do, that’s what you decided?”

“Just the tip, honest.”

“It’s all right, young Human, I believe you, and I believe that you can in fact stop time. That was the merest instant, to me, but clearly, you got a lot accomplished in that blink of an eye. Are you seem perplexed about something?” Drake had noticed Chloe’s consternation.

“Well, it’s just that that last time I did this, everything started to fall and move normally. That knife is still falling, very slowly, just floating there in the air.”

“And you find this strange why? Think about it, Chloe. We are in Tempus Lentus, slow time. When you let go of that blade, being just an object, and not alive, it returned to normal time. And so to us, it falls very slowly.”

Realization dawned on Chloe, but very quickly raised another set of questions. Testing her thought, she jumped straight up in the air, and then returned to the ground, just like every other single jump she had ever made.

“Hold on then, how come I don’t fall as slowly as the knife. The only thing that’s making it fall is gravity, right? And gravity is related to time, so shouldn’t I fall more slowly in slow time?”

“I can see that you’re a bright one,” replied Drake. “And that’s the magic of it all. It is difficult to explain, but to the best of my knowledge, it works something like this. When you are in slow time, everything that you touch enters into slow time with you. That includes the force of gravity.  For one reason or another, we’ve never been able to leave that one behind. But the Faerie who work in the Scola, they would be able to explain it more fully.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” said Chloe. “As much as anything here can make sense. Reality is so different here from back on Earth.”

“We thought so too, when we first woke up to this world. The air here is so light, so open, so ready for magic, that our peoples had to learn to hold themselves back. The air back on your world was so heavy and thick, very difficult to use magic. Imagine spending your whole life underwater, learning how to run, to jump and fight, and then suddenly breaking free into the open air. That is what the Faerie felt when the awoke on Terra Fluxa for the first time. After many generations, we adapted, and perhaps we have lost some of the strength that came from struggling against the density of your Terra. There are still three or four Faeries who remain from that time, living in Tempus Veloxus, able to wield great power if needed. But they have not awakened in many generations.”

“Is that why I can stop time?” asked Chloe. “Because I’m from Terra Firma?”

Drake stroked his beard as he thought about this. “I suppose it could be, but there are many questions that I fear may go unanswered for a long time. This world has not seen Humans, ever, and so your presence and abilities are mystifying.  Still, we will see what we can learn. But now, we must go. We’re safe enough in Tempus Lentus for the moment, but we can’t stay here forever. I have a place for us to go – the home of one my friends, where we can talk in comfort and without fear. And then we can find a way to get you back to your Terra.”

“Thank you,” said Chloe. “And Drake, we’re with you.”

The three Humans stole silently down the hallway.  There wasn’t a guard in sight. It was as if the Faerie didn’t think it was possible for anyone to escape this prison. The hallway went on for hundreds of feet, without any indication that anything had changed, and there still wasn’t an end in sight.

“Something’s not right!” hissed Justin. “This hallway doesn’t end!”

He scratched a mark in the door nearest to them. The deep gouge stayed in place for a second, and then disappeared. The door remained exactly the same as it had been just before.

“Not good,” said Chloe.

Christopher was studying the walls, tracing his hand along it. “It bends,” he said. “We’re inna circle.”

“There’s no way out?” asked Chloe.

“There has t’be. We got down here, we can get out. S’just gotta be behind one of these doors.”

“But they all look the same! And we can’t mark them off either.”

“How about a bread crumb trail?” asked Justin.

“With what? Ain’t no bread here!” replied Christopher.

“No. I was thinking more of… Chloe’s hair?” He said this with much trepidation, unsure whether or not Chloe would be willing to part with some clippings.

“Good idea, Justin,” said Chloe. Justin flicked open a small set of scissors and trimmed a lock off. It fell to the floor, and then, just as the scratch on the door had, it disappeared entirely.

“Well, there goes that one,” said Christopher.

“No haircut for me.”

“Alright, well, let’s keep walking, at least,” said Justin.

They had only taken a few more paces when a voice cried out.

“Humans? Chloe? Christopher? Justin?”

The humans were startled. Where had the voice come from? And did they dare reply to it? The three humans looked at each other nervously.

“It’s Meric, the Dryad… Is anyone out there?”

Chloe’s eyes spread wide as her heart skipped a beat. Meric? What ‘s he doin’ here?

“Meric! It’s Chloe. Where are you?”

“Over here!” came the reply. Ahead of them.

“Are you out of your mind!” hissed Justin.

“Look, we’re not making any progress. Besides, I think we can trust him.”

“You think, huh? I need to know! So far, there haven’t been too many Faeries who’ve turned out to deserve my faith.”

Chloe thought hard for a moment. She remembered his eyes and the goodness they reflected, felt a flutter in her stomach, and that was enough. “Alright, I know we can trust him. He’s as much in the dark about what’s going on as we are. Besides, we’re going to need some help once we get out there.”

Justin nodded.

“Meric, keep talking. We’re coming to get you.”

“Praise the Master! What’s going on? Why are you here? I thought the King was going to send you back through the gate!”

The Humans were running towards the source of the sound. Christopher stopped short. “Justin! I feel something! Right here, in front of this door. I can slide again!”

“That’s our exit! Stay there, Christopher.”

Chloe and Christopher continued to dash towards the source of the voice, finally arriving at the door from which Meric’s voice came. Justin hastily picked the lock, and swung open the door.

The Dryad appeared to be in terrible shape, bruised all over, and several cuts on his face and arms. Chloe looked him in the eye, and felt the same sudden throb as the first time.

“Time to go,” said Justin, helping the Dryad up.

“Thank you, Humans. Something is very amiss in the Kingdom, I sense.”

“Couldn’t agree with you more,” said Justin. “But no time for that now, we’ve got to get out of here. Can you move?”

“Yes, I think so,” replied Meric.

“Let’s roll,” said Justin. Chloe thought that was the strangest thing the boy from the future had said yet.

The Dryad and the two humans dashed back to Christopher. He was standing impatiently at the door. “Quick, throw me the pocketknife,” he called while they were still at a distance.

“Don’t need to!” shouted Justin. “Could you slide now?”

“”Yes!” came the reply.

“Alright, Chloe, you’re with you’re brother. Meric, hold on tight.”

When they had all arrived at the door, Justin spoke. “Christopher, we’re going to the clearing next to the tower, where we landed.”

“Right!”

“Are you sure about this?” asked Chloe.

“No!” shouted Justin.

“What’s going on?” Meric was tense.

“Just hold on! Now, Christopher!”

With a sudden rush, they were off, flying through space – through the ceiling, through a couple hundred feet of earth and then through another few ceilings. They had been deep underground, a dungeon that nobody was ever meant to escape. Of course, the dungeon hadn’t been designed to keep space sliders in.

They came to a screeching halt instants later, standing on the cobblestone path in the middle of the clearing. Chloe panted heavily. Meric looked sick.

“I love that!” said Christopher grinning.

“No time for that now!” said Justin. “Meric, we need to hide, get somewhere safe!”

“Follow me…” said Meric. Chloe didn’t think he was in any condition to lead anyone more than a few feet. It turned out to not matter at all. Someone brushed her hip, and she instantly slipped into slow time.

The world froze all around her. Chloe spun to see who had touched her.

“Drake?” It was the Gnome that had been in the palace with them.

“Yes, its me. Where have you been! Never mind, hurry, there’s no time. You are all in grave danger. We’ve been looking for you for almost thirty days!”

“Thirty days? What?” Chloe futilely tried to understand how that could have been. “No, no, it’s still the same day. It was this morning!”
“I am sorry, Human, but it is no longer so. You will find that many things in this world are not as they should be. You are in grave peril! The King is really…”

“A Daemon, yes we know!”

Drake set his jaw squarely. “Then you should also know that he does not intend on letting you return home.”

Chloe Abbot stumbled over to the plush, sofa-like object that seemed to be calling her name. It greeted her with a gentle hug as she sank into its welcoming body. She allowed her eyes to close for the briefest of moments, imagining she was back home. Home ain’t got no piece of furniture nearly as comfortable as this though! She thought. It was a moment of bliss that she wished could have lasted forever, although she knew it wouldn’t be long before she would have to contend with the present reality.

“Chloe, exactly what’s goin’ on?”

“One minute, Christopher, that’s all I want…”

“No, Chloe. We need t’ talk. Now.”

With a sigh, Chloe opened her eyes. “You’re right, I suppose.” Chloe rubbed her eyes, and then stretched out. Christopher was still standing, arms crossed. The other boy who called himself Justin, had taken a seat on a tall stool, a blank expression on his face. His legs dangled down, not quite long enough to touch his toes to the ground.

“Now, what the heck is goin’ on?” asked Christopher again, this time with more of an edge to his voice.

“Christopher Abbot! You will watch your language!” Chloe scolded, assuming her most motherly tone, glancing over at Justin. No reaction from him.

“Well?” pushed Christopher.

“Haven’t you figured this out yet?” replied Chloe.

“Why don’t you spell it out for me. You seem t’ have caught on quicker than either of us.”

“Well, I had help, I’ll admit it. Gli and I talked before we landed… before he was…”

“Killed?” finished Christopher. Justin shuddered. Chloe merely nodded, the sight of the arrow hitting his body still fresh in her mind.

Christopher, noticing his sister’s pause, offered what he thought was a word of encouragement. “Chloe, its alright. The King said that he was possessed. Whatever that means…”

Chloe nodded again. “Possessed. By a Daemon. I know that’s what the King said, Christopher, but… I don’t know. It just didn’t feel right. Anyways, you want to know what’s going on?”

“Yes.”

Chloe paused to gather her thoughts. She hoped Christopher would take this well. “We are… on another world – Terra Fluxa is what the Faeries call it.” Her brother didn’t even bat an eye, so she continued. “We were apparently brought here when Three Daemons walked through a Gate on Terra Fluxa. The Daemons passed us, remember, in the starry darkness, before we woke up in this world? I think there must be a Gate like theirs back on earth, or at least the remnants of a Gate, in the valley where we were cornered by the wolves. When the Daemons entered the Gate on Terra Fluxa, they opened a portal between our two worlds. The Daemons got taken to Terra Firma… I mean, Earth, and we got taken to the Faerie Kingdom.”

“Right… Faeries? Daemons? What is this, some kind of storybook world?”

Chloe shrugged. “Apparently. Trolls, Gnomes, Dryads, they’re all here.”

Christopher shook his head vigorously. “I must be dreamin’. I don’t believe it.”

“You’re not dreaming, Christopher. This is real. I’m real, and you’re not going to wake up. Think about it! The Faeries and Daemons used to live on our planet! The fairy tales we used to read are inspired from real, live, actual creatures!”

“And what happened to them on Earth?” asked Christopher pessimistically.

“Gli said that there was a war, and God, or, at least, I’m going to call him God, stepped in and said that enough was enough. The flood wiped them all out, except for a few faithful Faerie, who were brought here.”

“Huh.” Christopher seemed unconvinced.

“In any case, it seems we’ve arrived at a bad time for the Faeries. But the King said he’ll get us home as soon as he possibly can. He’ll take us back to the Gate, and just like that, we’ll be back in Colorado.”

“I don’t trust the King,” said Christopher. “Did ya see his eyes? He looked like…”

“Like a Daemon. I know.”

Chloe and Christopher Abbot turned their heads. Justin had spoken for only the third time, and first since they had been shown to this quaint little cottage near the palace.

After slipping off his sweater, as it was getting warmer now that the sun was up he, Justin got off the stool and walked towards Chloe. His tousled, dark hair bounced with every step, and for the first time, Chloe had a good chance to inspect him in the light. His hair, for one, seemed very out of place. It was long for a boy, curly and unkempt. And the more she looked at him, the more she realized that there was something totally unfamiliar about this boy. His clothes were peculiar, particularly his shirt, exposed now that his sweater wasn’t covering it. It featured a brightly colored picture right in the middle of his chest. On the picture was a very muscular man in a humorous blue outfit that was skin tight (to Chloe’s slight discomfort). He wielded a shield like it was a weapon, and if the picture had suddenly sprang to life, Chloe was sure the man would be yelling quite loudly.

“I got the same feeling,” continued Justin. “But the Faerie didn’t seem to have a problem with him. And while he felt… dark, I suppose, he didn’t radiate the same evil that we felt back in the darkness.”

“Still, he was rather intimidating, don’t you think?” asked Chloe.

A muffled cry sounded a few yards away, in the next room. Chloe’s eyes followed the sound, and gasped when Christopher, who had been there just an instant ago, was suddenly gone.

“Christopher!” Chloe sat up straight, on the lookout for the next surprise.

“I’m here!” came the reply. A few seconds later, his head popped around the corner. “Sorry, I dunno know what happened. I been feeling odd all morning…”

“What happened?” inquired Chloe.

“I ain’t sure. I just felt a tug. A pull. I been fightin’ it all day. I think I just lost.”

“What do you mean?” asked Justin.

Christopher shrugged. “I don’t know! I just suddenly appeared in that room over there! One instant, I was here, the next, BANG! Tumbling over the bed in that room!”

Justin’s face displayed his curiosity. “Do you think you could try it again?”

“What!?” said Christopher, incredulous. “Do you know how odd that was for me?”

“I know, I’m sorry. But, just… appease my curiosity.”

Christopher shrugged slightly. “Whatever. Yeah, that little pull is still there. I s’pose I could…”

“Oh!” Chloe jumped a little, as she actually saw her brother disappear this time. Another thump could be heard from the other room.

“Ow! I ran into the far wall that time!”

Christopher quickly returned to the parlor, none the worse for overshooting his destination.

Chloe was appalled. “You mean you just vanish, like that, and reappear there in the other room?”

“No, not exactly. I mean, it’s the strangest feeling! It’s like the ground is moving beneath me, and I’m staying stationary…”

Justin nodded. “I wondered.”

“I still don’t get it,” said Chloe. “There’s a wall between us and that room. You just go through it?”

“Actually, it’s more like it bends around me as I go by. Here, let me show you!”

Chloe gave a little squeak as Christopher reached out and grabbed her arm. Chloe didn’t have a chance to pull back before she felt a small tingle rush through her arm where her brother’s hand was placed, and then the world was flying by her. Only about 20 feet of it, to be honest, but that was more than enough for Chloe to experience it. The ordeal was over before she could bat an eye, but she had gone right through the wall as it opened for her, and now she was sitting on the far edge of the bed, and she hadn’t even moved a muscle.

“That!” she said, short of breath as the adrenaline rushed through her body. “Was crazy!”

Justin suddenly appeared right next to both of them. “That was great!” he declared enthusiastically.

“Wait, you can do it too?” asked Chloe.

“Sure can! It’s just a matter of finding the source of that tug, and then telling it where you want to go! Come on, try it!”

Justin gave Chloe a mischievous grin and disappeared.

“Wait!” she cried.

Christopher vanished as well. Chloe growled, then closed her eyes, hoping to sense the same sensation she had experienced with Christopher. She scrunched up here eyebrows, and tightened her jaw muscles, but nothing worked. She could feel the tingle every once and a while, briefly teasing her before dancing away, but wasn’t able to latch onto it and control it. As she chased it around in her mind, Chloe bumped into a much larger sensation, very similar to the one that had thus far evaded her grasp. This new found feeling, on the other hand, was perfectly docile and willing to be controlled.

Gotcha! Thought Chloe. The tingling rippled through her body, but she didn’t leap into the parlor like she had expected. In fact, nothing had changed.

Except that it had gotten deadly quiet. “Christopher? Justin?”

No reply. So she walked into the next room. The two boys were there, sitting on the sofa. Not moving. It was as if they were frozen in a very lifelike and natural pose. She walked up to them, and touched her brother.

He felt alive, although he certainly didn’t look it. He didn’t breathe, or blink or so much as move a muscle for an entire minute. Chloe even tried to feel for a pulse and couldn’t find one. Still, he felt warm enough.

I wonder… Chloe giggled slightly, as the King’s words came to the front of her mind. ‘If you were to slip backwards in time…’ the King had said.

I ain’t gone backwards in time, she thought, but I might’ve stopped it! Chloe then set about repositioning her younger brother and Justin on the sofa. She rolled Christopher over on his belly, and then maneuvered Justin so that he was sitting square on Christopher’s back. And just to prove her point, she rearranged all of the furniture in the room as well.

She was thinking of what else she could do to totally shock the boys when a brilliant idea came to her. She ran over to the bowl of fruit that sat on the table and picked one up. She was too distracted to care what kind of fruit it was or wasn’t. It was only for a test anyway. She gave it a light toss towards her brother’s head. To her utter delight, as soon as the fruit left her hand, it too stopped in midair.

Perfect! she thought. All five other fruits soon followed the same fate as the first, from different angles and at different trajectories. Soon, her own little barrage of Faerie fruit was flying towards the boys. The finishing touch was the pitcher of water.

As soon as she let go of it, she realized that the heavy crystal pitcher would certainly hurt Justin, above whose head it was perched, when it fell. Try as hard as she might, she couldn’t think of a way around the problem, and, not wanting anyone to get injured in her little joke, she reluctantly pulled the pitcher away. To her utter amazement, the water remained behind, a perfect mold of the interior of the pitcher. Chloe was bewildered and dazzled. The structure of the water caught and reflected the light all over the room, a glorious rainbow of diamond sparkles and multi-hued vibrance. It was, quite possibly, one of the most beautiful sights Chloe had ever seen.

Now I’m gonna have that minute all to myself.

After basking in the serenity and silence for what felt like several minutes, Chloe decided it was time to get on with her prank. It took her only a moment to find that newfound sensation and release her hold on it.

The compiled result was better than she could have asked for. The instant confusion in the two boys’ faces as they found themselves in a very different position than the one they had just been in a moment ago would have been hilarious in and of itself. That look quickly changed to shock when the pitcherless water splooshed on Justin’s head, and the fruit pelted Christopher relentlessly. After the third OW! from her brother, Chloe realized she probably could have been a little more gentle with the fruit. Still, the entire event had Chloe rolling on the ground with laughter. The boys were flailing there arms, and trying to orient themselves to their new surroundings. They finally managed to separate as a very wet Justin rolled off onto the ground.

“What was that!” he shouted.

Chloe could only laugh and shake her head.

“CHLOE!” Christopher wasn’t really upset. His sister knew him well enough to know that deep down, he thought she’d pulled quite a good joke. It was the way his lips turned up at the corners – a smile making its most valiant effort to overcome the indignant expression he’d assumed that clued her in.

“Oh, that was great!” chortled Chloe. “You should have seen your faces!”

“I’m soaked!” said Justin, running his fingers through his hair. “What did you just do?”

Chloe put on a smug expression. “You boys can jump anywhere you want, I can mess with time. That simple.”

Christopher, rubbing his temple from where a particularly hard thrown and hard skinned fruit had hit him, shook his head. “I don’t get it…”

“I,” Chloe said tauntingly, “slipped – I believe that’s what the King called it – into a time where I moved around as I pleased, but you two remained in place. Never even blinked!”

Justin’s eyes went wide as he realized what had happened. “You moved us? And threw fruit at us? And dropped water on me!”

Chloe nodded, her grin still spreading from ear to ear. She opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by five fruit all attacking her at once. “Ouch!” she yelled.

“HA!” said a triumphant Christopher. “Seems yer not the only one, big sister!”

Chloe’s grin quickly faded to consternation as she realized she no longer had a unique ability. “No fair!” she pouted. “I can’t… whatever it is you do…”

“How about slide?” said Justin. “Slip in Time, Slide in Space. Slip ‘n Slide, get it?”

Chloe and Christopher’s faces told Justin that they most certainly did not get it. Then, like a bolt of lightning, he remembered the letter in his pocket, and the terrifying sight of his own dead body that he had, for a short time, been able to push from his memory.

“Oh,” was all he could manage.

Chloe saw the shadow return to his face, and was instantly at his side. “What’s wrong, Justin?”

The color left Justin’s face, and he sat down promptly. The mood in the room had darkened considerably in those few moments. The excited, rambunctious, carefree spirit had vanished into thin air as the cloud of depression and fear returned.

Justin took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “Nothing. I just remembered something…”

“What?” asked Chloe.

Justin closed his eyes for a moment. When he reopened them, he reached down into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out an envelope, which he handed to Chloe.

“Here, read this.”

Chloe took the letter and began to read it. Here eyes changed from a concerned squint to wide-eyed wonder the further into the letter she got. By the end, her jaw was hanging open. Christopher nudged his sister meaningfully.

“It’s a letter, written by me, to Justin.”

Christopher didn’t seem concerned. “Huh. Nothin’ too strange about that, right?”

“Christopher, the letter is dated 1947.” Christopher raised an eyebrow. “And it’s my handwriting.”

“Wait, so yer from the future?” Christopher asked Justin. “Like 30 years?”

Justin shook his head. “More like 50 years…”

“Wrong again,” said Chloe. “When we left Colorado, it was 1917. And you got this letter…”

“August 14^th, 1997.”

The trio sat in stunned silence. Chloe and Justin looked scared. Christopher, after a few seconds of confusion, spoke up.

“So… who’s the next president of the United States?”

“Christopher!?” shouted Chloe. “You can’t do that!”

Justin agreed. “She’s right. We have to be very careful not to mess things up. I’ve seen stuff like this on TV. Visiting the past and changing events of the future can be very, very bad. Even the tiniest of decisions can cause drastic problems!”

“Tee vee?” inquired Chloe.

“Shoot,” said Justin. “Forget I said that.” Justin looked like he was afraid he would vanish at any moment.

“Fine,” said Christopher. “Take all the fun out of it. What’s in the letter?”

“Directions. On how to get somewhere. And what to bring.” Chloe’s brow was creased as she tried to decipher the meaning of this new twist.

“Yeah, the only problem is the directions brought me here!” said Justin. “Why the heck did you want me here?”

“I didn’t!” retorted Chloe. “I mean, that wasn’t me, it was the future me!”

“Well, then, the future you must know somethin’ the present you don’t,” said Christopher seriously. It made sense. Justin had to agree. “So what’d ya bring along?”

Justin pointed to his boots. “New hiking boots. And my pocketknife. Hidden in my boot.”

“Pocketknife? Hidden?” said Christopher. “That’s not good… hey… anyone else got a feelin’ that we’re not going home right ‘way?”

“Why do you say that?” said Chloe.

“What d’ya need a hidden pocketknife for, sister?”

Realization dawned on Chloe. “We’ve got to get out of here!”

The door of the cottage suddenly burst open. Wood splintered everywhere.

“Too late,” said Justin, shuddering. “You can’t change the future…”

Six armed Kingshadows stepped over the threshold. A big troll stepped forward.

“Change of plans,” he growled.

*     *     *     *     *™        ˜

Chloe woke up, head throbbing once more, in a very different room than the one she had just enjoyed, up until the arrival of the armed Faerie. Dad gummit!

“Hello, sleepyhead.”

Chloe turned to her right to see Justin, slumped up against a stone wall. The dim lighting obscured most of his facial features, but the voice was his.

“Christopher?” she asked.

“Still out cold.”

“Where are we?”

“Looks like a prison cell to me.”

Chloe noticed that her hands and feet were bound with a thick rope. “Well, this is looking hopeful…” she muttered. “Wait! Can you slide out?”

Justin shook his head. “No luck. It’s liked it’s being blocked or something.”

Chloe closed her eyes and tried to locate the Time slipping feeling. It too was gone. “Mine too.” Justin wasn’t surprised.

“How long have we been unconscious?” she asked.

“Not sure. I woke up about 15 minutes ago. But I don’t know anything other than that.”

“Why’d they do this to us? It doesn’t make sense!”

“I don’t know. I wish I did.”

Chloe was able to wriggle over to Justin and join him sitting against the wall. Somehow, his presence was comforting.

“Chloe? Can I tell you something? I… I don’t want anyone else to know.”

“Sure. I can keep a secret. What is it?”

“When I followed the directions on your letter, I ended up in a little valley, and I sat down on the stone, just like you said. Well, actually, I had to sit down on the stone. It was like a magnet. And then, just before the darkness took over the sky, I saw something. Terrifying.” Justin shivered. Chloe moved closer so that their shoulders were touching.

“A body appeared, Chloe. It was in terrible shape, all mangled and disfigured. It’s back was to me, but then it rolled over. It was me, Chloe. I saw myself. Dead.”

Chloe gasped. “Justin…” was all she could say.

“I’m going to die, Chloe. I know it. I’m going to die, and my body will disappear from this awful place, and I’ll end up back in Colorado, cold, lifeless…”

“Justin! Look at me! You are not going to die! We’re going to get back home, alright?”

“You can’t change the future, Chloe. It’s going to happen!”

“You said yourself that we have to be careful about what we do. You said the smallest decisions could change the biggest things in the future. We can change this!”

Justin shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way. I saw my future. Chloe… I’m… I’m scared to die…”

Chloe didn’t know what to say. “Don’t talk like that, Justin. We’ll figure this out.”

Justin looked into Chloe’s eyes and saw a deep sadness. She knew the truth as well as he did. Chloe saw a deep-rooted fear.

“But I’m going to get you out of here, Chloe. If it’s the last thing I do. You and Christopher both. Chloe…” Justin paused, overcome with emotion. “Thank you for being here for me. In the darkness between the worlds, in the Palace, here… you don’t even know me…”

“Apparently, I do, Justin Lefay,” she replied softly.

Christopher groaned. “Chloe?”

The older sister sighed. Her younger brother had a knack for needing her at the most inopportune times. Still, she was glad he was here. “I’m here, Christopher. How do you feel.”

“My head… ouch, hurts like heck.”

“Christopher…” she warned, referring to his choice of words.

“Alright, time to go,” said Justin, reaching down for his boot. He pulled the pocket knife out, flipped open the blade and started to saw away at his bonds.

“Good thinking, Chloe!” chuckled Justin.

“Why, thank you! I’m glad somebody finally recognizes my excellent intuition.”

“Ha ha,” said Christopher, not laughing in the slightest.

In a few minutes, all three were free of the bonds that held them. “Now what?” said Christopher.

The three Humans began to investigate their cell. It was solid stone, except for the heavy wooden door with a barred window. Justin tried to stick his hand through the bars, but wasn’t successful.

“Here, let me,” said Christopher. His arm fit, but barely. “There’s a key hole,” he said.

“That’s our best shot,” said Justin. “The hinges must be on the other side.” Justin pulled out a few more tools on his pocketknife before finding the right one. In one hand he held a toothpick, in the other, a small blade.

“You know what to do?” asked Justin. Christopher nodded affirmatively. He tried to peer down the door for a moment before jamming the toothpick into the lock. He wiggled it around for a bit, and then a small click indicated success. Next, still pressing in the toothpick, he jammed in the small blade and twisted.

Pop!

“Good job. Let’s go!” said Justin.

“Wait! What’s our plan, even if we get out of here?”

“Trust no one, and try to blend in. We’ll have to improvise from there. And stick together. Christopher, let me know the second you feel the tug again. I think its being blocked right now.”

Justin swung the door open, and peered into a very dark, uninhabited hallway.

Without a word, the Kingshadows guarding the entry to the throne room swung open the sturdy doors. Drake attempted to make eye contact with the humans as they walked by to no avail. They were quickly ushered into the King’s presence. Only then were Drake and the Chief allowed to enter. They did so quietly and as inconspicuously as possible. There was a definite tension in the air.

The chamber was oddly dim. Red tinted shades covered the windows, giving the room a fiery glow, and the corners disappeared in the smoky haze released by an incense that assaulted Drake, numbing his mind. Four pillars on either side of the throne stretched upwards to the high ceiling, which was also obscured by the clouds that wafted through the room.

The King was the only other Faerie present. Drake thought it curious that there were no advisors or counselors. At the very least, he thought that the rest of the Conclave would have been present. Where the leaders of the other Faerie races were, Drake knew not.

The King sat perched on his throne, with a cool indifference. The seat of his power was, as the histories told, the same throne that had been commissioned by Gammaron the August, some two thousand years before. Carved out of a single block of marble, the throne was a majestic combination of art and function, emanating supremacy, beauty and stability to all in the room.

The King himself seemed to project the same atmosphere, perhaps drawing from the throne’s power, but certainly graced with a commanding physique and nearly supernatural allure. His Majesty was of the Naiad race and only a few years past his youth, with fair, blond hair and eyes that reminded one of the clearest natural spring water that ever bubbled forth, high in the mountains, singing and gurgling as it danced its way down the to the valleys to the delight and refreshment of all. His pale skin contrasted sharply with the dark robes he wore. Other than the circlet of gold upon his head, there was nothing that specifically indicated his royal status.

The King had one eyebrow raised, studying the unfamiliar people who had entered the room. Drake, especially affected as he was by the incense, found it impossible to read the King’s reactions or lack thereof. Even without the incense dismantling his cognitive abilities, it would have been difficult for any mortal to read the King’s mind and intentions. He was the living incarnation of a brick wall. His face remained utterly passive, his eyes wandered slowly from point to point, and his body stayed as relaxed and comfortable as if he were reclining at the supper table with friends.

The Kingshadows, Meric, Humans, Drake and the Chief walked forward and stopped a few paces away from the throne. As was expected of them, they knelt on one knee and lowered their heads. Drake glanced up to see one of the Human boys still standing, until the female pulled him down somewhat roughly.

“Rise,” said the glassy, sparkling voice of the young King. As one, the group stood. The same human boy who was slow to bow started to fidget nervously. Again, the girl intervened to calm him, placing a hand on his.

“Guards, leave us. Meric, Dryad of Grindlewood?”

Meric stepped forward, with neither an arrogant expression, nor a defeated posture as the Kingshadows silently stole away and disappeared. As soon as the door closed with a dull thud, the incense suddenly ceased, and a gentle breeze blew in, whisking the haze away. Drake’s mind cleared, and he was thankful it did, because he realized how very little of a memory he retained of the last few moments.

“Your Majesty?”

Drake took a deep breath. Meric had violated a Forbidding, and the punishment for such crime was serious. He sincerely wished the Humans didn’t have to observe as one of their first experiences in the Kingdom the banishment or locking of Meric’s soul. It would surely be terrifying.

The Gnome risked a glance at the Humans. The other boy, not the one that the girl was constantly reassuring, looked like he might be ill. Every now and again, when Drake looked closely, he could see the slight vibration of his body as it wiggled back and forth in space. This one, he mused, must be especially vulnerable to the flux… Many youngling Faeries had difficulty controlling their Tempus Flux as well, and often popped back and forth between different times, even getting lost by jumping to a different moment at the same location. The boy seemed to be keeping it under control for the moment.

“Meric, I want to commend you for your heroic actions at the Gate.”

Drake snapped back to reality. He was completely taken aback.

Meric looked equally surprised. “Your Majesty… I am grateful for your kind words, but please, I can not remember a single thing about the attack after it was begun. And there is no honor in being the only survivor on the losing side.”

“On the contrary, loyal Dryad, it was your actions that gave the Watchers enough time to arrive and stop the Daemons. However, their failure is not your own.” Here the King moved his head slightly to glare at the Chief, who wilted under his intense gaze.

How does the Kind know these things? Thought Drake.

“Meric, there was nothing you could have done that you did not do. Rest assured of that.”

Drake was in disbelief. It wasn’t that he wanted the Dryad to be sentenced. Banishment was horrible. Having a lock placed on your soul was unfathomably terrifying. But the law demanded just recourse for the violation of a Forbidding. He had expected nothing less. Maybe imprisonment. It wasn’t as if Meric had intentionally killed all the Watchers. Most would have been killed by the Daemons in any case, so a reduced sentence might have made sense. But this? The Dryad was actually being rewarded for his actions!

“Yes, your Majesty.”

“Now,” said the King, and an edge came to his voice, “We have some guests. Who are you, and where are you from?”

None of the Humans volunteered right away. After a few uncomfortable moments, the female spoke. She looked horrified, like she was staring at a ghostly apparition.

“Please, sir, uh, your Majesty, we… I mean, myself, and my brother here, we’re from Colorado. Gunnison, Colorado. My name is Chloe. This is Christopher. And, uh… we don’t know who this is…”

The boy that Chloe was holding hands with just nodded.

“Not know the third one? Yet you are quite friendly with him, I see,” commented the King. The boy dropped his hand.

“Please sir, he’s scared.”

“Am NOT!” retorted the boy.

“Your Majesty, we all are. It’s been a terrifying journey.”

Christopher suddenly exploded. “Why’d ya kill ‘em! The ones who brought us here?”

The Chief startled. The Watchers? Dead?

The King took the outburst in stride. “My good son, it was a regrettable but necessary incident. I received word while awaiting their arrival that they had all been possessed.” The King hissed this last word and let it sink in.

“By Daemons!” he concluded.

Again, Drake was thunderstruck. This just wasn’t right, how this entire situation was playing out. And yet, if the Chief was the traitor, it made perfect sense…

“And ya couldn’t help ‘em?” asked Christopher quite cheekily.

The King didn’t seem to be bothered. “Unfortunately, no. They were too dangerous to be kept alive. You know what they say. Once a Daemon, always a Daemon.” The King gave an eerie little chuckle.

“Ah,” he continued after his personal little joke, “and the third one. You are?”
“Justin Lefaye. I’m not from Colorado. I’m from Iowa. But I was just in Colorado. And I should probably be getting back soon.”

“But you’ve only just arrived! Surely you must want to see the City! Have you ever been to Lantes Isle before?”

Chloe interrupted. “Your Majesty, I’m not sure you understand. We’re not from Terra Fluxa. We are not Faerie.”

The King cocked an eyebrow again. Justin and Christopher both turned to look at Chloe. They were equally astounded. Faerie? Terra Fluxa?

“You’re Majesty, we are Humans. From Ancient Terra. Terra Firma.”

The Chief inhaled sharply. Drake felt the smallest triumphant grin slip onto his face. He had been right. Of course, this also meant that the Daemons really were on Ancient Terra.

“I see,” said the King, taking the news in stride. “Humans. From Ancient Terra? You mean that… Humans are…”

“Please, your Majesty.” Drake spoke up. “Ever since I noticed their appearance on the fabric of Time early this morning, I have been pondering this puzzling development.”

“Speak up, good Gnome. But who, again, are you? Your friend here, I recognize – the Chief Scribe of the Tower.”

“My name is Drake, your Majesty, and I am the new Mender, for my predecessor died…” Drake realized that it might not be wise to mention the Rend, as the King had taken great pains to overlook that fact, “during the events of this morning.”

“Drake was chosen by the former Mender before he perished as the chosen heir,” affirmed the Chief.

“My condolences, and my congratulations, Drake the Mender. Please, you have something to say?”

“Your Majesty, the Faerie have long believed that when Ancient Terra was reborn as Terra Fluxa, the old world was destroyed. All Humans, and everything on that Terra was wiped out in the deluge, and the only the Faerie on Lantes Isle survived.”

The King interrupted. “In addition to the Daemons.”

“Yes, our own personal plague, it would seem. However, consider the possibility that Lantes Isle did not resurface on the same Terra and was simply renamed to denote its second beginning, but rather a completely separate Terra altogether. That first Terra is still out there!”

“One on which Humans still live. Is this what you’re implying?”

“It is, your Majesty. And the Gate…”

“Acts as a portal between worlds. When the Daemons passed through, the Humans were brought here!”

The King caught on quickly. He seemed to consider what he was hearing, and then smiled and spoke. “Well, this is news indeed! Humans! In the Faerie Kingdom. Our two peoples meet once again!

“Your majesty, please!” said Chloe. “I’m sure this is a momentous occasion for you, but you must understand. We have no memory or knowledge of the Faerie, only those tales that have been handed down for generations and no longer bear any resemblance to their source. This is a strange world to us, and we need to get back to ours. Can you help us?”

“Why yes, I suppose there would be no real problem with that.” Chloe breathed a sigh of relief. “I must consult with the Conclave, of course. And perhaps the Lowly Priest will have some special insight. I assure you, we will do our best to get you back to your own home. And perhaps establish relations between our peoples once more! In the meantime, come, you are our guests, and you are in need of nourishment and rest. I shall have accommodations made immediately! Guards!”

“Thank you your Majesty!” replied a grateful Chloe. This was the best news that she had heard all day. She was anxious to get back home, continue on her journey and pretend that the whole thing was just a bad dream. Perhaps she’d wake up and find that she’d hit her head and that the whole thing was merely a nightmare. She could hope!

Drake noticed that while Chloe seemed appeased, her brother, Christopher was far from it. Still dealing with the instability, he thought. Then he remembered that there were still two important points that needed to be discussed. The guards entered, and the King beckoned one of them over, and whispered in his ear.

“Your Majesty, there are two matters that still require your attention. And I believe they may have some impact on the Humans here.”

“You may proceed, Mender.”

Drake took a deep breath. It was time to present the evidence and expose the Chief for what he really was. A Daemon, disguised as a Faerie. A traitor.

“First, your Majesty, is the troubling news that surrounds how these three Daemons came to be in the Kingdom in the first place. As you may know, whenever a Daemon incursion on Faerie soil occurs, the Fabric of Time records it. The mark is unmistakable and quite obvious. I followed the Daemon’s trail far back in time, almost a season. Since they used no magic, their presence was barely noticed on the Fabric. And quite suddenly, their trail ended. Their should have been a mark at that point, when the Daemons crossed into the Faerie Kingdom. There was no such mark. Someone altered with the Fabric of Time to hide their presence. Someone who had access to the Tower.”

The King narrowed his eyes. “You are saying, Drake the Mender, that there is a conspirator within the Kingdom?”

“Within this very room, your Majesty!” The King gripped his throne as if for dear life. Drake pointed at the Chief. “Think about it! His Watchers failed to stop the Daemons. Since when does that happen? The Watchers are the most elite strike force in the Kingdom. It turns out they were, in fact, Daemon possessed themselves. And he could have made any adjustments to the Fabric of Time at any moment.”

“Drake, you can’t be serious!” cried the Chief. “I would never…”

“I wouldn’t have ever suspected it of you, Chief, had not this very morning, another one of the Watchers, one of the apprentices, turned into a Daemon before my very eyes and tried to kill me. He was your spy, wasn’t he? Sent to eliminate the one person who could expose you!”

“No! Drake, Your Majesty, It’s not true! There must be another…”

“SILENCE!” yelled the King, sitting up straight and suddenly becoming an imposing figure. “The evidence clearly is against you. I hereby strip you of your title, your life, and your soul!”

The Chief’s mouth hung open, frozen in shock. He looked as if he was about to run, but found himself glued to the floor. Every muscle in his body refused to move.

“Your soul is locked in this moment for all eternity! Here you shall be bound, with none but your own evil mind to keep you company, free from physical harm, subject only to the tortures of your own creation.”

And then the Chief was gone. Nothing remained of him. He simply vanished, tied to that microsecond for an eternity of self-damnation.

Drake took a deep breath. He was glad that was over with.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” said the King to the Humans.

“What… what happened to him?” asked Justin, shocked.

“He has been permanently bound to that moment in time. If you were to slip backwards in time, you would still see him there. His life will continue to exist as long as Time itself continues, never to escape or communicate with anyone again.” The King’s voice, and his face, was grim.

“That’s horrible!” said Chloe.

“Yes it is. But it is a punishment reserved only for the vilest of criminals. Now, let us clear our minds of that unfortunate incident. It is over now. Drake?”

“Your Majesty?”

“I believe there was one more matter that you wished to speak with me about.”

“Ah, yes. The second matter is about the Daemons. What shall be done about them?”

“The Daemons? The ones who passed through the portal?”

“Yes, your Majesty.”

“I do not see what can be done! They are out of our hands. You know as well as I do that we, the Faerie, cannot pass through the Gate. We are forbidden to pursue them. They must be the Humans’ problem to deal with now, as unpleasant as that sounds. Humans, there are no Daemons in your world?”

Chloe shook her head. “Not like the ones we encountered on the way here.”

“Well, it shall be a… new experience for your world, then. Still, it is only three Daemons.”

“And what if they return?” asked Drake.

The King caught his drift. “Ahhh… I understand now. Still, we’ve never had Humans in the Faerie Kingdom before. Perhaps the Gate is one-way, like a mirror? Or mayhap it is only open to the Humans when it’s opened on our end?”

“It is a possibility, your Majesty,” replied Drake. “Still, so is the Daemons returning with an army of Humans!”

The King breathed deeply and nodded. “Of course, you are right, Drake. The guard shall be redoubled. If anything tries to get through that gate, they’ll have a contingent of Faerie to deal with, armed to the teeth and waiting to spill some Daemon blood!

“But now, Humans! You must be exhausted. Kingshadows, please show them to their quarters, and Meric as well. He deserves a hero’s treatment. Accompany him as well! Humans, if there is anything I can do for you, to make your brief stay as pleasant as possible, let me know. I expect to have this situation resolved in a day. I will act as quickly as possible. And Meric, please, enjoy a few days off. Blessings be upon you all. Drake, may I have a moment?”

*     *     *     *     *™        ˜

Drake suddenly found himself looking through another person’s eyes. The pulse that coursed through his veins was different as well. The sudden shift in perspective threw him off, but he quickly focused and realized he was still in the throne room. He could see his own body off to the left, standing quite still and glassy eyed. How strange!

The body he was in turned to go. And then it spoke in a female voice. “Thank you, your Majesty!” Drake’s vision followed Chloe’s line of sight.

He panicked. Sitting on the Throne was a Daemon. It was dressed in the same robes, and even appeared to look like the Naiad that Drake had seen moments ago through his own eyes. But the unmistakable glint of red shone in its eyes. The truth dawned on Drake.

The Chief wasn’t the traitor.

It was the King himself.

™ *     *     *     *     *       ˜

“Drake?” asked the King again, concerned with the lack of reply as one of the guards escorted the three Humans out the door.

“Sorry, your Majesty. It’s been a long night and day…” mumbled Drake, as he returned to his own body. He’d just experienced another vision, this time through the eyes of the female – Chloe. I must be connected to the Humans, somehow.

Drake’s pulse began to accelerate. This was bad. Very, very bad.

“I understand, Drake. Go home, and get some rest. When you are able, you can return to your duties in the Tower – your new duties as Mender and Chief Scribe. I need a Faerie I can trust, Drake, so I’m putting you in charge of the Watchers.”

“Yes, your Majesty… please, sir, I’m feeling rather faint, may I…” The King’s words barely even registered for Drake.

“Of course! You are dismissed.”

The second guard motioned to Drake. He turned and followed, heart pounding and yet heavier than it had ever felt. On a whim, he slipped backwards in time, and slowed down to a near standstill.

He walked over to the Chief and as he touched him, brought him into slow time with him. “I’ll come back for you. I’ll find a way. I’m so sorry,” he whispered. It was all he could do. In the next instant, the Chief would be locked away for eternity, unless there was something Drake could do to stop it.

Drake quickly returned to the present and slipped out of slow time, turned his back to the King and walked out of the throne room.

As exhausted as he was, he knew that something had to be done. The Kingdom was on the brink of destruction. But first, sleep…

Drake awoke once more from his fitful sleep for what must have been the tenth time that night. He rolled over, disgusted with himself, his body begging for a good half hour of rest, and attempted to find a comfortable position on the cot. It felt like a Dwarf had slept there last, deforming the natural contour and shape of the padding.

Someone was going to pay for it.

Realizing that his present location wasn’t going to afford him any real respite, Drake, eyes half closed, decided to stumble out of his cot towards another one. The barracks was empty. Usually, Watchers were simply allowed to return home to their own quarters, and the barracks was only reserved for times of emergency.

As Drake stumbled over to a nearby cot, one that he hoped had better prospects of granting sweet dreams, or even no dreams at all, he noticed a vague smell of decay waft in on a breeze. In a matter of moments, Drake was fully cognizant of the waking world. There was no mistaking that smell.

In the dark of the barracks, Drake felt a rush of panic begin to settle in on him. There was precious little light in the room, and Drake didn’t know where, or if, there were any lanterns or torches along the walls.

Even worse, he wasn’t exactly sure of the way out or in, turned around as he was, and having just wakened in an unfamiliar room. Somewhere, there was a small armory, in one of the corners he thought. But which one?

He had a small blade at his side, a mere knife, probably quite useless in the present situation, but he drew it, and slowly backed away, heart pounding, trying to make the least amount of noise possible.

His outstretched hand felt the wall first, and then his body bumped into it. Something was protruding from the wall near his head, though. He grabbed it, and realized it was the prop that opened the shutters. He quickly turned and shoved all of his body’s weight against the window, praying that dawn was on its way. The window budged slightly.

A rustle came from the other side of the room, and then the sound of flesh colliding with wood, a dull thud, and the slightest intake of breath. It was definitely in the barracks.

Drake shoved harder, oblivious to the fact that he was making quite a racket, scrambling against the shutter, throwing what little force he could into the stubborn window. With a small pop! the window suddenly shoved free, and a glow filled the room. Drake, panting, turned back to face the room, his dagger held out in front of him. He wasn’t alone.

“Ashmiel?” said a surprised Drake. It was one of the Watchers, a Were who served as a fellow assistant to the Mender, standing a few paces away. Drake let down his guard.

In that moment, he struck. Suddenly, and quite horrifyingly, Ashmiel’s body fell away, like a coating of dust that had been blown off, and a tensed, muscular shadow erupted from his remains, red eyes glowing and teeth bared.

Drake barely had time to react in normal time. And so he found himself snapping quickly into Tempus Lentus, more out of instinct than purpose. The Daemon was hanging in mid-air, stretched out towards him, still moving, but at a much slower pace.

Drake stood there in shock for a few moments. He wasn’t a soldier, and he definitely hadn’t been trained for this kind of situation. There was a moment when his eyes locked with the Daemon’s – it took what felt like nearly ten seconds before the Daemon’s eyes focused in recognition, and that’s when Drake knew he had to act. The Daemon was only a few feet away not, so Drake dropped to the ground and rolled, maintaining careful control of the Flux, positioned himself underneath the pouncing Daemon, and slashed upwards and across with his knife. A gash appeared in the dark body, a wound out of which no blood flowed, not in that time. Black, matted fur and grizzle pealed away, and Drake, now lost in the adrenaline of the bloodlust, hacked over and over again, snapping muscle, sinew, bone and skin. He felt his control over the flux beginning to fade, and with one last thrust, he left his knife buried to the hilt where he best guessed the Daemon’s foul heart slowly throbbed, and then rolled out from underneath its body.

There was a massive crash as the mangled body of the Daemon fell to the ground, wounds now gaping and pouring blood. The Daemon, the once-Ashmiel, gurgled hopelessly and then slumped to the floor.

Drake knew he wasn’t getting anymore sleep the rest of the night.

*     *     *     *     *

Justin Lefaye, still feeling quite shaky, was glad to be back on solid ground, even though he had only just regained consciousness a few minutes before. His eyes had opened to a worrisome sight –riding behind a short stocky man-like creature, strapped to a saddle atop a magnificent bird that was nearly as large as a small airplane and descending rapidly in a wide spiral towards an island that was surrounded by water as far as his eye could see.

You are going to die!

There had been several other birds similar to the one he was flying below and above him, all coiling around a tower that rose far above the island and appeared to be the center of a city. The descent had been so rapid, and the sight so startling that up until now, he had barely managed to catch a breath, let alone speak or utter a cry of surprise.

The birds had landed in a clearing near the tall tower, their mighty wings blowing the dust and dirt beneath them away in a violent whirlwind before landing gently on their talons. After that, the short man had turned around and released the lashes binding him to the saddle, and now there he was, muscles aching, heart pounding and head screaming, but alive and back on his own two feet.

“Are ye alright there, lad?”

I’m dead, I saw myself dead!

Justin lifted his head from his squatting position and stood up, only to have to look down again. The man was a little over four feet tall, with a leathery face, twinkling eyes that were magnified by the flight goggles, an impressive if not somewhat unkempt beard and rough and tattered matching jacket and trousers that appeared to be made of a scaly material.

“I… I’m fine… Where am I?”

“Lantes Isle, Throne Isle of the King!”

Justin glanced around. The clearing was surrounded by buildings in every direction. The hefty base of the tower stood a few paces away, beyond it the city proper, buildings in every direction all thrown together in a haphazard fashion without any organized fashion or attention to visual aesthetic. And they were old buildings – stone, brick, many covered by ivy, weathered but strong. Every direction he looked, there were buildings. Directly behind him and well into the city, another large structure, shimmering and aglow in the morning sun, rose into the skyline. Four narrow spires marked the four corners of a wall, and beyond the wall, a hall shaped exactly like a cube, complete with arches, windows, flags and banners and topped with a golden, almost blinding dome.

It was, altogether, a world unlike any he had ever seen, like he had stepped back in time, or been taken to a less modern country. Possibly Italy? Eastern Europe? Greece?

Dead!

The voice was still screaming in his head. It had been ever since he woke up. His heart threatened to burst out of his chest, and he still hadn’t regained control of his lungs either. None of this made any sense! Where was Chloe?

And then, she was there, a few feet away.

“Oh, thank goodness. Chloe! What’s happening? What have you gotten me into?!” he panted towards the girl, who, though he’d seen her for less than five minutes altogether, he figured was his best source of an explanation.

“Calm down, calm down. It’s going to be okay!” she said in a motherly tone. “Gli here has… wait… What’d you say? ‘Gotten me into?’ You think this is my fault? Now see here!” Her maternal voice disappeared, and her temper flared, its already trimmed fuse ready to spark at a moments notice.

“Chloe?”

It was Christopher. He was running across the lawn in an impressive fashion, impressive because his legs looked like uncoordinated strands of jelly waiting to collapse.

“Christopher, oh… thank goodness…” Chloe mumbled as her younger brother squeezed her tight.

“What’s goin’ on, Chloe?” he asked as they separated.

“I’m not completely sure, but everything’s going to be ok. Alright?”

The younger Abbot’s terror was evident on his face. His sister’s words weren’t able to dispel the confusion and fear. So many strange faces and people! To top it all off, he hadn’t been able to shake the disoriented feeling that left him constantly scrambling for something solid. Things kept slipping, speeding up and slowing down, and he had absolutely no control over it. The effect was quite nauseating.

Another man, if he could be called that, for there was an air about him that hinted at otherness, was being pushed towards them. He was young, tall and wiry, and though his hands were bound behind his back, he moved with a grace and nobility that bordered on pride and rebelliousness. His face was smooth and handsome, his skin a fair white, his hair long and straight – a light brown that had tints and streaks of a rich, organic green running through it – and his eyes…

Chloe was riveted to the man’s eyes. For a moment, they glanced down at her, and in that moment, Chloe saw a depth of emotions and life the likes of which she had never seen. Deep in the pools of blue and gold that glinted with a steely edge, his whole life seemed to be laid out for Chloe to see – not in the actions of his past, but in the character of his soul: honor, camaraderie, loyalty, duty and sacrifice, along with regret and guilt, not that of a criminal, but that of a person who’d failed his friends even after making the right decision.

Chloe inhaled sharply, and an inexplicable urge within her chest arose, flaming and passionate and altogether foreign to her. It disappeared just as quickly when the man looked away. In its place was a hollow sensation and an emptiness that, while not overwhelming or incapacitating, was noticeable, like a dull ache that hovered constantly in the background of one’s mind. Chloe didn’t know whether to cry or laugh, but she had time for neither.

The three humans instinctually drew closer together as more newcomers arrived, this time from the city. They were armed soldiers, in a two column formation and marching towards the clearing. One of the birds behind the trio gave a nervous cry, shrill and hawk-like. Gli stepped forward, in front of the humans and assumed a protective stance. Something was obviously amiss.

The other Watchers, who had been tending their steeds, quickly left and joined Gli. The tall one with the gorgeous eyes was left alone, a few feet away from Chloe. He made no attempt to run, but stood patiently, erect and aloof. Chloe noticed that another creature (it surely it wasn’t a human) with a similar appearance, slightly darker skin, female and eerily, fiercely beautiful was amongst the group with Gli. A stumpy, stocky, bearded man with his jaw set and arms crossed stood next to, or rather beneath, a black-skinned, almost average man-like creature, but for the glinting yellow eyes and cat like ears. On his other side stood another female with long, flowing hair that reminded Chloe rather of the ripples and sparkles of the Taylor river as it sped through the rapids near her home. The last of the group the smallest of all six, wiry and homely but with a facial expression that projected such determination that it was easy to overlook his height. Collectively the group drew together. Something in their faces talk Chloe that they expected trouble.

The soldiers approached. Their uniforms were simple but well kept, unlike the haggard state of the Watchers’. Their ebony trousers and jackets contrasted with the golden belts and crimson sashes. Atop their golden helmets, a black plume waved out, blowing gently in the wind. Each soldier, regardless of their size – some were as small as Justin’s pilot, others larger than Gli – matched perfectly and marched in unison. Most carried a sword at their waist, although for the shortest of the force, they were barely more than daggers, others a bow and quiver of arrows. They were an impressive sight. There were no doubts that these were highly trained soldiers.

They came to a halt a short distance from the Watchers. Each side eyed the other warily. One of the soldiers stepped to the fore. As he did, six of the soldiers pulled out their bows, and notched their arrows.

“Ruum! What is the meaning of this?” asked Gli. “Is it not our right to escort these guests to the palace?”

“I am… truly sorry,” said the spokesman, never making eye contact with the Watchers. “By order of the King.”

Six arrows flew straight and true. Gli and his other Watchers stood with shocked expressions and arrows impaled their hearts.

“NOOOOO!!” shouted the tall one, face passive no more.

Chloe screamed as the Watchers fell to the ground, dead or mortally wounded.

The gigantic birds behind them startled and cried out for their fallen masters.

Justin tried to run away, when a commanding voice boomed out, “Stop!” Justin knew by the tone in the voice that he was a dead man if he took one more step.

“Meric, Dryad of Grindlewood, Soldier, Kingshadow, Keeper, you are under arrest for high treason, being in league with the enemy, and the violation of a Forbidding.”

“What have you done?” cried the accused. Chloe looked at his face again, hoping to catch his eyes once more. There had been nothing sinister or dangerous in those liquid pools.

“Quiet, traitor! Your soul is forfeit. Take them to the King!”

“Chloe!” cried Christopher, reaching for his sister as a soldier came forward and grabbed his arm roughly, steering him away.

“Christopher! It’ll be alright! Just do whatever they say!” To tell the truth, Chloe was not at all certain that everything would be ok. Gli, the ‘good guy’, was face down in the dirt, blood spilling out from his chest, and now they were in the hands of his killers.

God help us, she pleaded silently.

*     *     *     *     *™        ˜

“So, how was the rest of your night? Sleep at all?” inquired the Chief in a peculiar tone. Or maybe Drake just imagined it sounded peculiar, as it wasn’t the question he wanted to be asked.

“Only a little, and it wasn’t good. Still, for the first night on the job, what can you expect,” replied Drake dryly.

“I hear you.”

“Who’s on duty right now?” Drake still felt more than a little uncomfortable at leaving the Tower in somebody else’s hands. He felt like the safekeeping of the Fabric of Time was his responsibility, more so now than ever. But, this was an unavoidable circumstance. And besides – serious complications very rarely happened. To have two within two days was simply unheard of.

“Rydell and Lysenaeus. And a scout ready to let us know if anything happens while we’re away.”

Drake nervously stood outside the King’s throne room. The humans were supposed to arrive any minute, but he and the Chief were not to enter until then. It didn’t help that he was standing next to the number one suspect who had allowed all this to happen. The Chief had access to the Tower at any time of day or night, and the Watchers under his command would followed any order he gave. If he had wanted to hide the existence of the Daemon’s entrance in the Faerie Kingdom, he certainly could have done so. The question was why? What did he have to gain from a Daemon victory?

The situation was troubling indeed, and puzzling. Drake knew he had to be very careful with his words and his reactions. His life, the lives of the Humans, perhaps even the entire Faerie Kingdom were at stake.

He wished he had gotten more than a few moments of rest in the last day.

Drake shuffled his feet nervously. Apart from the Chief, the only other Faeries in the antechamber were the two Kingshadows, one a Dryad, the other a Dwarf. They stood silent and unmoving at their posts, on either side of the ornate double door that separated them from the throne room. To pass the time away, Drake began to inspect the painted carvings that covered the door. It appeared to be a portrayal of the age before Time began. The door itself was built of colossal proportions, easily ten times his own height, and wide enough that 4 trolls could walk abreast of each other and still clear the edges quite comfortably.

The panels, in a spiral around the middle, showed the primeval forces, depicted as strange, shapeless forms emanating light or dark beams, battling over Terra. Beneath them, the land was being shaped and maimed, rebuilt and torn down, laid waste and rekindled. These were the Angels, beings of light, the first Servants, waging war against the Demons, fell creatures, once-Angels, now twisted and bent on harm only, devoid of any desire other than to defeat that which was good. The last, and central depiction was of the First Intervention when the Master Weaver put a halt to the endless struggle, and banished both the Angels and the Demons from Terra. As they were shown leaving, however, the seeds were planted for the foundings of creatures bound to Terra, creatures who could continue to defend and protect, or destroy and rape – the Faerie and the Daemon.

Much history had occurred between that moment and the one Drake found himself currently in, and yet, the struggle was still the same. It was always the same… With a shiver, Drake realized that something about what was happening here and now was threatening to disrupt the balance that had been in place since before the dawn of time. This wasn’t another stalemate upon a distant border, a little skirmish here, a little ground taken there. No, this was deeper, more cunning, and hinted at an insidious danger unlike any other that the Faeries had faced before. And it wasn’t easy to ignore and say that the outcome would simply be what it had always been. This had the feeling of the beginning of the end, and it was a plan that was already well underway.

Drake’s musings were suddenly cut short by the sound of heavy footsteps. His heart beat in anticipation. Around the corner came a squad of Kingshadows, looking as regal and deadly as ever. In their midst was Meric the Dryad, and just behind him the three terrified, weary Humans.

When Drake finally regained consciousness and his eyes fluttered open, he instantly wished he hadn’t done so. The moonlight was exceptionally bright, and he could see he was strapped behind someone in a saddle, riding the largest bird he had ever dreamed of, flying quite high, if his instincts were correct, and very fast, based on the whistle of the wind in his ears. As he startled and tensed, he put pressure on the bonds holding him upright. The rider must have noticed.

“Calm down! You’re safe enough. We’re almost to Lantes Isle, and then you’ll be back on solid ground again.”

Drake was dazed and confused. How had he gotten here? Where were Chloe and that other boy? He looked to his right and saw three more birds flying in formation. Relief flooded over him, and the blackness claimed him once more…

*     *     *     *     *™                 ˜

Drake the Gnome sat straight up in his cot. It had been so real, so lifelike! He had felt the wind, smelled the air, and even the thoughts, they weren’t his own…. who was this Chloe? A rush of emotion had accompanied the speaking of her name –  affection, loyalty, and even a hint of fear and guilt.

There was another sensation that Drake had felt too, but had a hard time putting his finger on it. The waking out of the blackness felt unlike return to consciousness that Drake had ever felt, and he’d had his fair share of getting knocked out as a Gnomeling, and even fainting during the intense training for becoming a Watcher. There was more than just the general fuzziness that muddled the waking world for a while. No, there had been a pull, a tug… something ready to drag Drake, or the body that Drake was in, off into a terrifying plunge, something that had been resisted with every ounce of strength he could muster.

The Flux. Drake hadn’t felt that tug for years. All Faerie learned to master it from an early age, when it first manifests itself. It was like a rite of passage into the next stage of life, being able to control the Flux and that itch that was present every waking moment.

But what he had felt there was stronger than any Flux he had ever experienced. And it hadn’t been just the Tempus Flux. There was something else there that he had never experienced, and like would never experience. He could only assume it was the Tractus Flux .

It was one of the Humans, then. And now he had seen through one’s eyes, felt one’s emotions, heard one’s thoughts. For all he knew, he had been one for a brief moment. But how? Why?

Definitive answers alluded Drake as he drifted back off into an uneasy sleep.

*     *     *     *     *™™                 ˜

There was no drifting slowly out of the land of dreams for Meric. He woke up screaming, his cry of terror piercing the early morning air, overpowering the muffled flap of wings and the roar of wind. With the sudden realization that he was no longer trapped in the nightmare realm, but instead in a reality that consisted of him flying on the back of a Rook, strapped to the saddle, behind a Watcher, Meric felt the scream choke in his throat. Not that he was sure this was a better situation to be in. It took several minutes before he was able to catch up to this moment, and even then, he felt like there were large holes missing in his memory. His time sense had become very muddled.

Until he remembered. Daemons were in the Faerie Kingdom.

“STOP! You have to turn back!”

The Watcher who was flying the Rook didn’t even turn his head.

“There are Daemons in the Kingdom! They attacked the Keepers of the Gate!”

The Watcher didn’t even flinch.

“You have to take me back! It’s my duty!” Meric began to struggle against his bonds. “I’ll jump! You have to let me go back… let me go!”

Then the Watcher turned his body around to face Meric. He was a fellow Dryad.

“They are all dead, Meric. Every single last one of them. Incinerated. The Daemons disappeared through the gate. And one of us died getting you out of there.” The Watcher gave him a death glare. “It had better have been worth it,” he said coolly.

“Dead?” Meric couldn’t believe it. “But how?”

“You don’t remember?”

The steady pulse of the Rook’s sinewy wings carried on, leaving Meric in stunned silence, struggling to regain the memories of the events at the Gate, but he couldn’t come up with a single thing.

*     *     *     *     *™™        ˜

Chloe Abbot slowly wakened to a thundering headache. That was all she could feel for several moments, then the rushing air whipped her stark red hair out behind in flaming streaks. The blackness covering her eyes melted away, and a hazy view began to take shape before her in the dim light of early morning

Just in front of her sat a massive, muscular person with dull colored skin (it was difficult to tell exactly what color at the moment), wide spread shoulders and a bald head, a bare back with tendons and sinews bulging out of it, not in a garish, hideous way, but one that projected strength and mastery of one’s body. Two tiny ears barely peeked out of the side of its head, similar in size to Chloe’s own, but dwarfed in perspective to the head which they were on. The arms were no less impressive than the person’s back – thick, sturdy trunks of power. She couldn’t see any hands, for they were blocked from her view by its body, tucked away in front.

Chloe took all this in quickly, and as her gaze widened, she realized that the creature in front of her was flying something. She could see the flap of wings with her peripheral vision, and straining her neck, she looked around to her right to see an entire wing. It’s feathery appearance gave Chloe the idea that she was flying on the back of a very large bird.

The throbbing headache prevented any real reaction to this startling discovery. Chloe squinted her eyes, slightly confused. Her thoughts were still tangled like so much yarn after a cat had gotten to it. Shaking her head, she managed to clear her mind.

“Where am I?” she asked groggily.

“Flying over the Bay of Lantes, young lady. Baruum!” came the reply from a very masculine voice. Chloe hadn’t really been expecting an answer.

“I must be dreaming,” she said to herself.

“Sorry, but this is as real as it gets. Look!”

They went into a steep dive, and Chloe felt her stomach get left behind as they plummeted downwards. She was suddenly aware of the bonds that held her in place, and was quite thankful for them. She squeezed her eyes closed, and then managed to risk a glance. They were rapidly approaching the ground at breakneck speed. With a roar, the person in front of her urged his steed onward. Chloe screamed and gasped just before the moment of impact, expecting a sickening collision.

There was none. A peal of deep laughter came from up front as they plunged onward, through a very damp and foggy substance. Chloe, disoriented and heart racing, was thankful to still be alive.

A cloud, Chloe. Yer an idiot! she chided herself. Just like that, they were through the cloud and flying even again. A magnificent sight awaited her eyes. Ahead and just to the left, peeking over the horizon – which although she had never seen it must have been an ocean – a wonderfully brilliant orb of light was rising, so very alike to the sun that Chloe had many times waited out on the ridge near her house to watch, and wholly unlike at the same time. It wasn’t that the sun was brighter or larger or hotter or nearer than her own sun. It was more present, and real, and alive! The air between it and her seemed to dance in its rays, and she could feel the life and joy emanating from the first radiating beams of the day. She looked straight at it, and it didn’t burn her eyes at all, although she felt a wave of shivers go up and down her spine.

“It’s beautiful,” remarked Chloe.

“Hrum. That it is,” came the reply.

Chloe was enjoying the view when it hit her like a thunderbolt. She sat up, quite rigid. “Christopher! Where’s my brother?”

“Relax. He’s up ahead, flying with Trinius. Or Hrogar. Is your brother the sun-topper or the night-topper?”

“What?” Chloe asked.

“His hair – what color is it?”

“Oh… blonde… light!”

“Hamuum… the sun-topper. He’s with Trinius.”

“And he’s safe?”

“Rumbruuum.” Based on the head nod, Chloe took this to mean yes. Breathing a sigh of relief, she let her muscles relax.

“As safe as anyone in the Kingdom, I suppose,” followed up her pilot, more to himself than her.

Things were starting to come back to Chloe. The escape from the house, the wolves, the clearing and the starry void… She had no memory of anything after that.

“Where… where am I, again?” she asked.

“About 120 leagues out of Lantes Isle. We’re northwest of it, flying over the bay. There’s nothing but ocean beneath us. Hrum harrum.”

“I… I’m sorry. I don’t know of any place called Lantes Isle. I’m from Gunnison. Colorado. America… and I need to get back home…”

“Never heard of it. Sorry.”

“Earth, I’m from Earth, how’s that?” she said sarcastically.

“Earth? What’s that?”

Chloe shook her head. “My planet. This planet! I think…”

“BRUMMMBARUMM! You mean Terra! That is our name for it!”

“Yes! Terra! That’s it. Terra Firma…” said Chloe matter-of-factly. She was glad they had finally been able to agree on something.

“Vrubaruk!” exclaimed the person in front of Chloe. “Terra Firma? No, no… that was destroyed, long ago. This is Terra Fluxa. Huh, where’d you grow up, the middle of the Karhbad Desert?”

“No, I told you. Colorado. Gunnison, Colorado.”

“Right. Never heard of it.”

Not many people have, I s’pose…

“Well, then if you can’t tell me where I am, maybe you can tell me where we’re going?”

“To Lantes Isle, of course. But if you don’t know where you are, I don’t know why you think you’d know where we’re going. Humbarum.”
Lantes Isle… Lantes Isle… nothing came up in her memory. She had studied geography, and truth be told, she wasn’t half bad at it, but her mind was drawing a blank.

“Alright then, why are we going there?” she inquired.

“To see the King. You really have no idea what happened, do you?”

Chloe creased her brow and shook her head, not that he could see it. “No, I don’t.”

“Durabrumbarum!” he growled. “Well then, let me fill you in. My team and I departed from Troldjhem after receiving an urgent message from the Watcher’s Tower in Lantes. Something about an attack at the Gate. We arrived just in time to see three Daemons skip through the Gate and vanish, and no survivors among the Keepers except for one, a Dryad, and even he was in pretty bad shape. We lost one of our own to the Daemons, too. And then, moments later, you appeared. Well, you and the two boys. Just like that, right outside the gate. It’s a mystery to be sure, but I’m sure the King’ll have it sorted out quickly.”

Daemons? Gate? Dryad? Chloe’s mind was struggling to keep up. Was that what I seen in the blackness? Daemons? They come from that arch thing, and that could be the Gate, sure ‘nuff.

“I saw the three Daemons,” she blurted out. “At least, I think I did. They came through the big stone arch at the end of the pool, after the world had turned all black.”

“You saw the Daemons, and you’re still alive? Gruuumbaram!”

“They just walked right passed us, and on into the mist. I remember feeling all cold and despairing as they walked by. They looked at me with their horrible red eyes, and I felt the life just leave my blood for a moment. Then they were gone…”

“That sounds like the Daemons, alright, but why you’re still alive, I don’t know. The Holy One be praised! Do you know where they went, then?”

“On to Colorado would be my guess,” said Chloe. “Back to where I’m from. Earth. Terra Firma…”

“Karabum! I told you, Ancient Terra was destroyed, long ago, when the Faerie were brought to Terra Fluxa. Every Faerie knows that much. Who are your parents, young lady?”

Chloe couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “But… I’m not a Faerie…”

“Not a Faerie?! Brukarukarmbalumbaluk! Impossible! You’re no Daemon. Nothing so foul could ever clothe itself in a body so fair!”

“I’m not a Daemon either! I’m a Human!”

For the first time, the person in front turned his head back. Chloe would have jumped out of her saddle had she not been strapped in. The face that belonged to the muscular figure was unlike anything she had imagined – small beady eyes, a single thick eyebrow, a flattened nose that was little more than two slits where the nostrils should have been, a chiseled and rather square jaw, no lips to speak of and massive grinding teeth lining the open mouth.

After the initial shock, Chloe found herself not frightened as much as a little disgusted. It wasn’t an ugly face, but it was homely to be sure. “What… Who are you?” she asked?

“You’re a Human?” He obviously hadn’t heard her question.

“Yes! What else would I be?”

“A Faerie! A Were, or an overgrown Dwarf, or… I don’t know! Kurumbulum! NOT a Human!”

“Well, I AM! But what are you?” Chloe wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

“A Troll, of course! Gli the Watcher, from Troldjhem, that’s what they call me! A HUMAN?”

“YES!!!” she yelled. “Why is that so hard to believe! Even I’ve heard of trolls… of course, only in fairy tales and nonsense…”

“Why is it hard to believe? Only because all of the Humans were destroyed with the Old Terra in the Great Deluge. Only because the Faerie, and the Faerie alone, were saved and reborn on the New Terra! Only because it’s part of the most foundational moment in our history!”

“I… I don’t understand,” said Chloe. “You think that all the Humans were destroyed, along with the Old Terra? Terra Firma?”

“Harum! Yes! It was our punishment. The Faeries had failed in their calling to eradicate the spawn of the Fallen on Terra Firma, and we were deceived and thrown into civil war. In the end, the suffering and strife was too much for the Master Weaver, and he destroyed His firstborn Terra and all living things in a deluge of water. The Faerie were saved and were reborn on Terra the Second.”

“Noah’s flood? You mean the flood that covered the whole earth? Forty days and nights? Well, I’ve got news for you, Gli the Watcher.” Chloe was quite riled up, though she wasn’t entirely sure why. It often seemed to happen to her when she encountered a situation she wasn’t prepared for. “Humans survived. A man named Noah and his family, along with a boat full of animals survived the flood. That’s what the Good Book says. And Humans are very much still around on Terra Firma.”

Gli was flabbergasted. “You mean to say that there’s more of you?”

“More of us?” replied Chloe, incredulous. “There’s millions of Humans on Earth, if that’s what you mean.” She began to struggle with her bonds. “One of them is my older brother, and I have to get back and help him!”

“Druum, druum! Hold it!” barked Gli. “Stay calm, calm down.”

“There’s been a mistake! I’m not supposed to be here!” growled Chloe.

“I know. But you are, and we’ll try and get you back as quickly as possible. Krubrakum! We’re going to the King’s palace. He’ll get this sorted out.”

“NO! I need to go back. NOW!”

“I’m sorry! But there’s nothing we can do right now. I don’t even know how to get you back. Just… just wait. I’m not the bad guy here.”

Chloe glared at Gli, who glanced back, giving his best sympathetic Troll face. Chloe couldn’t tell a difference, but eventually gave in. “Fine.”

High above the ancient city of Lantes where the Faerie King reigned, chaos was about to break out in the Watcher’s Tower. The massive stone structure stood in the center of the capitol, set atop the only hill, looming over the palace to the south and the temple to the north. The glistening white stone was visible from the mainland on the clearest of days, and from the many ships that constantly flowed in and out of the Isle bringing pilgrims, farmers, soldiers, tribal leaders, prisoners, vacationers, traders, scholars, students, artisans, musicians, laborers, priests, nobility and all the other sorts of Faerie that a thriving hub of culture like Lantes attracted.

The Watchers noticed the first casualty right away. Deaths were common occurrences, and each was recorded on the Fabric of Time, but they were generally ignored. Sudden, violent deaths, however, were a bit more serious, and a bit more obvious. They stood out like a wine stain on a white tablecloth. Such a blemish was now appearing on the Fabric. Magic hadn’t been used, though, so perhaps it was an accident.

“Location on that kill?” The Chief Scribe seemed nonchalant about the incident. The half-dozen Watchers that reported to him scrambled to read the clues of that had been and were being woven into the cloth.

“It’s the Gate, sir.”

The Dwarf raised one gray eyebrow and walked over to the magnificent loom. It took up only a small portion of the tower, which mostly stored the reams of Fabric of every year from the present moment back to the founding of the Kingdom. The loom itself required no Faerie maintenance or operation. It quietly thrummed away on its own magical power, recording the location, actions and interactions of every Faerie in the Kingdom.

“The Gate, did you say?” The Chief felt a momentary stab of fear, which he pushed aside.

“It’s Falinos the Naiad. A Keeper.”

“Status on the rest of the watch?”

More split-second scanning followed. That’s what the Watchers were known for. They had been chosen at a young age for their exceptional abilities to read and process information, and then trained their entire lives for this task.

“Appears to be normal. Nobody’s stirring. They’re all at their posts…”

More of the blood stains appeared on the Fabric. The Chief jumped into action.

“Relay to Troldjhem! Squad to the Gate, half a minute ago! Potentially hostile situation!” He turned to the aides at the loom. “Any survivors?”

“One, sir: a Dry…”

“Relay – I want that survivor to make it out at all costs!” The Chief was bellowing now. Any response from Troldjhem? I want confir…”

“Rend! We have a rend!”

The outside world slowed to a near standstill as every Faerie in the tower entered Tempus Lentus. The dire situation had taken a turn for the worse. A rip in the Fabric of Time could mean death and destruction for many Faeries, and, if left untreated, had the potential to destroy the entire Kingdom. This was a land of Magic, but when Reality and Magic were set in direct opposition, Magic was always found to be the weaker of the two.

A Forbidding had been broken instants ago, causing the rend in the Fabric. From across the room in the top of the Watcher’s Tower, the Mender walked over to the loom. The wizened Naiad had an oddly serene face, his pale eyes clouded from age looking more alert than they had in decades, his mouth tightened with calm determination. How long he had been up in the tower, no one could say. Much longer than anyone who served as a Watcher in recent history. Usually the Mender just sat motionless by the east window, letting life pass by as he waited in Tempus Veloxus for emergencies like this.

Gnarled fingers passed over the tear in the Fabric. His brow furrowed. This was a rend the likes of which he had never seen. One death, possibly two or three in the worst cases, was not unheard of. But upwards of a dozen?

The Mender got to work immediately, pulling out his thread and needle, motioning for his apprentices to assist him. He doubted if he had the strength left to repair the damage, even with help. But there was no time to gauge that. He would try.

The apprentices looked terrified. They had only ever corrected small errors, miscalculations and accidents. The magnitude of the damage in front of them seemed irreparable.

As the Mender began to isolate the lifestrands and reattach them, it became clear that the victims were not going to survive. Knots were forming on the loose threads. The edges were fraying rapidly. The damage was too widespread to be able to make any sense out of it.

“I can save one – there is time for one,” the Mender rasped.

The Chief quickly gave his judgment. “The Dryad. Save the survivor of the initial attack.”

The Mender felt his strength fading as he alternately worked to stop the tear from spreading and pieced together the carnage that was Meric the Dryad’s lifestrand. The apprentices assisted as they could, a stitch here and there, although it was very little compared to the Mender’s furious pace. It was delicate work. One mistake and lives could intersect that were never meant to cross paths, or even suddenly swap existences.

The rend was becoming smaller. Meric was nearly whole. But the Mender couldn’t escape the darkness that was closing in on him. His hands slowed, his fingers lost their feeling. With a great effort, he stepped away.

“I have done what I could.” The deathly exhaustion was evident in his voice. Then he turned to the apprentice nearest and spoke his last words. “Drake, carry on. Here – my thread… my needle…”

The Mender handed his tools off to the chosen heir, a much younger Gnome, and then collapsed on the ground to rise no more.

Drake, the newly appointed heir, reeled with the sudden responsibility that had just been handed to him. He had not asked for this! He hadn’t even been given a choice!

“Drake!” hissed the Chief.

The Gnome snapped back to reality. Fingers trembling, he made his first stitches as the new Mender. He hoped that somehow, by using his predecessor’s thread and needle, some of his spirit would well up within him. It turned out not to be the case. Thankfully, his predecessor had nearly completed the most delicate work. As it was, it was the most challenging circumstance he had ever found himself in as a Watcher, but his hands steadied, his vision cleared and his mind relaxed. The old Mender’s advice came back to him. “It is not about each and every little stitch you make! No! It is about instinct. It is about continuity. But most of all, it is about accepting the fact that you cannot make that which has once been marred perfect again.”

When he finished with the repair, he let out a big breath of relief, and noticed that all eyes were on him. His heart was racing, and he felt suddenly weary. He had no idea how much time had passed, when he realized he was still in Tempus Lentus. Lacking the mental focus to slide gently back, he roughly snapped back to real time.

The Chief locked eyes with him. “You did well, kid.” Somewhere inside, buried beneath his exhaustion, Drake felt a spark of pride and achievement. The rest of the room was hushed, both in awe at what had happened, and mourning the loss of the Mender.

“Alright, the fun’s over. Take a break, everyone, get some rest. Might be needing it sometime soon. For now, we wait for word from Troldjhem. Run a bare bones squad tonight. Jarkun, Finnios, please deliver the Mender’s body to the Temple – they will prepare an honorable vessel for his final voyage. Drake, you’re with me…”

The Chief  walked away until everyone was out of earshot before continuing. “So, the new Mender. How do you feel?”

Drake, slightly perturbed by the sight of the dead body being removed from the Tower, replied, “Tired, Sir…”

“I’m sure. I’ll let you rest in a moment. But first, I think you need to understand you position as the Head Mender.”

Drake was confused. Head Mender? There had never been more than one. “Sir?”

“No more ‘Sir’ now, you hear? You’ve been given a position of status much higher than mine! No…” said the Chief as Drake tried to interrupt. “That’s the way it is now. I’ve been given orders. You’re going to train Watchers under you in the full art of Mending. I’m not talking a handful of apprentices, but a team of skilled and trained Menders. What if…” The Chief paused as Jarkun and Finnios left the Tower. Gesturing to the dead dwarf, he continued. “What if he hadn’t had the strength left to repair the rend? Would any of the apprentices have had the skill to curb the damage?”

“I didn’t know if I had the ability myself,” replied Drake. “He always did the difficult mending. I just tied up the loose ends.”

“Nonsense – I saw what you did. There was a reason why you were chosen. You may not feel competent yet, but you’ll get there. He made the right choice.”

“I just hope his confidence wasn’t misplaced,” said Drake.

“Besides, you don’t want to spend the rest of your life imprisoned up here, do you? Living the rest of your days out in stasis, only waking up to save the world once every few decades?”

Drake didn’t think that sounded very ideal. Even as he was about to voice his opinion, another abnormality appeared on the Fabric. The Chief lightly touched his shoulder and once again they slid back into Tempus Lentus.

“Daemons!” Drake whispered.

“How did they get this far into the Kingdom?”

They were both looking at another death mark on the Fabric. It bore the obvious signs of magic, and magic not of the Faerie kind.

“It was a Watcher,” said Drake, even as he traced the faintest path of the Daemon’s presence along the Fabric. Miniscule remnants of hints could be sensed, cleverly woven and hidden in the Fabric. Their presence would have gone completely unnoticed had they not killed with Magic right then. But why would they choose to reveal themselves?

“One of the Troldjhem squad,” replied the Chief.

Drake was astonished at how far back the Daemon’s presence in the Faerie Kingdom went: nearly a full season. And then it stopped abruptly. Drake was at a loss. How could this be? Anytime a Daemon crossed into the Faerie Kingdom, it left a noticeable mark on the Fabric of Time. He had expected to find such a mark, and assumed that somehow, it had just been overlooked. The absence of that mark meant one of two things. Either the Daemons had found a weakness in the magic and exploited it, or someone had undone the evidence. Someone within the Watcher’s Tower. One of the Faeries.

Both implications could spell disaster, thought Drake. It also meant he could tell no one. Even the Chief. He suddenly pretended to carry on his seGate of the Daemon’s path, waiting for an opportunity to innocently return back to the Chief and current developments. It came quickly.

“They’re gone.”

“Who?” asked Drake, as he swiftly moved back.

“The Daemons. Gone. Through the Gate.”

“Are you sure they weren’t killed by the Watchers?”

“Absolutely. Look!”

Drake did look. There were no signs of a struggle. The Daemons had simply vanished, just like they had appeared. The only difference was that this time, thee was a good explanation. The two stood by in silence, hoping for a miracle. None came, at least not in the form they hoped for.

“Chief?”

Three new strands had entered. Not Daemon, not Faerie.

“What are those?” queried Drake.

“Human.”

Drake felt a shiver go down his spine. Humans belonged to Ancient Terra. And Ancient Terra was no more. At least that’s what every Faerie from the Second Dawning until this moment had believed. The pair stared grimly at the Fabric of Time, the steady drone of its weaving the only noise in the tower.

“Looks like I was wrong. The fun hasn’t even gotten started yet,” said the Chief. Then with a sigh, he continued, “But there’s nothing we can do for the moment. I want you to get some rest. The Watcher’s from Troldjhem won’t arrive until the morning, and they’ll have the Dryad and the three Humans with them. We’ll meet with the King first thing in the morning.”

“We have a lot of explaining to do, aren’t we?”

“No doubt about it, Drake. Now go! Get your rest. You’re tired, worn out. I’ll stay on duty until the morning, but I want you nearby.”

Drake nodded. He couldn’t agree more. “I’ll head down to the barracks. Wake me if you need anything.” As he turned to leave, out of the corner of his eye, one more abnormality caught his attention. He wouldn’t have noticed it as Drake the Watcher, but Drake the Mender was finding that his senses were becoming more astute by the minute. He spied a faint ripple in one of the Human’s threads. At least one of them could use magic! And if his newfound intuition was correct, they could manipulate time and space as well.

Like a Daemon and a Faerie fused into one being, he mused. Wearily, Drake left the room in the top of the Watcher’s Tower and began the long descent to the ground level where the barracks were. He wished he could go home and catch a few hours of sleep in a comfortable bed, but circumstances now dictated that he remain at the Tower in case of a new emergency.   “Oh, and Drake?” The Chief was at the top of the stairs. “The Daemons… did you find out how they made it into the Kingdom?”

Drake gave a guarded reply. “No, sir… I mean, no. Looked like they’d been inside the borders for almost a season at least. Hard to trace them, you’d understand.”

The Chief had a curious expression as he returned to the top of the Watcher’s Tower. He mumbled some sort of farewell comment, but Drake was already out of earshot, stumbling down to the barracks and a lumpy, Gnome-sized cot.

The moon was sinking behind a distant, hilly tree line, and on the opposite horizon, the stars were being swallowed by a rolling, boiling mass of clouds when the trio first caught sight of their goal. Down in the valley, the last beams of light caught the surface of a pool and cast a shimmering glow on the Gate. Even a few of the guard were visible to the naked eye. Not that the three hunters needed light to reveal their prey. In their shade world, souls stood out like beacons – candles in the darkness that were waiting to be snuffed out.

Their eyes burned red and their pulse quickened. It had been essential, up to this point, to avoid all contact with the Faeries. They could not risk detection. They knew that the Watchers in the Tower saw all that was imprinted on the Fabric of Time. Their presence would certainly become known at the slightest sign of conflict or display of magic. So they had used stealth alone to delve so deep into the heart of the Faerie Realm, suppressing their raging instincts to consume all in their path. Now, however, there was no need to hold in check their predatory drive. The Daemons were unleashed, and none would stand in their path.

™*     *     *     *     *        ˜

Meric shifted uneasily at his post. It was only the third night of being on duty as a Keeper of the Gate. Life was simple out in the foothills of the Troldjhem Mountains. Most of the major cities in the region were concealed well within the mountain range itself. The Trolls and Dwarves had no need to visit the foothills. Off to the west, the great southern desert sprawled across territory that only the Weres frequented in their constant wanderings. Nestled between two significant and obstructing geographic features, the Gate just wasn’t ever disturbed.

It was off limits, anyway. No Faerie, unless under direct and unmistakable orders from the Lowly Priest, was allowed to pass through the Gate. It was one of the Forbiddings that had been set in place at the Beginning of New Days. The consequences for violating one of the Forbiddings were dire – banishment, being stripped of your magic, or worst of all, having a lock placed on your soul.

And even if the Forbidding wasn’t in place, no one really knew what was on the other side of the Gate, or if they did, they kept it secret from general knowledge. There were rumors, of course, of Faeries entering through the gate and never returning, and fantastic stories that passing through the gate would turn you into a Daemon and transport you straight to Hades.

Meric shifted again. To be sure, being selected as a Keeper of the Gate was a great honor, but life out here was different, contrasting starkly with the post he had held as a Palace Guard. There had been plenty of moments of calm and reflection in the deep of night, out on the palace battlements and up in the high towers, but nothing like the deathly calm that descended each night here at the Gate. There was no distant hum of activity like there had been on the Isle of Lantes, no calling out to the fellow guards, no hustle of the servants, no new faces to learn and no home to return to after duty. Tonight, there wasn’t even a wind to rustle the trees.

“Larkin!”

Meric was startled from his contemplation. Rounds. The only time Keepers spoke while at their posts. Otherwise, strictest silence was maintained.

“Sir,” the Gnome replied.

The silence was just one of the odd traditions held here at the Gate. Each post had three Keepers assigned to it – they never rotated shifts, never rotated posts. Meric would remain as the midnight Keeper of his post – right inside the treeline, opposite the pool, facing the Gate, for the remainder of his duty.

“Thulgar!”

Meric thought back to his arrival. He had entered the valley solemnly, skin tingling. He could feel the holiness of the land in his steps – this was ground that predated his world. The Priests said it had survived from the original Terra, the birthplace of the Faerie Folk. He had tried talking to the trees, but had only vague murmurs for responses – the trees too were old, more ancient than any he had ever encountered.

“Sir,” The Dwarf’s growly voice sounded like the rock structure he stood by: rough, powerful, earthy.

On that first day, no one had spoken with him. He had set up his camp, next to all the others. A few had nodded welcomingly at him. Others made eye contact. The fellow Dryads, of whom Meric still didn’t know their names, had generously snapped off a twig of their crest, a sign of companionship and loyalty exchanged among the Dryads. Meric likewise had returned the gesture with a sprig of his own, and in silence, they grafted them into their circlet of branches that adorned every Dryad’s head.

“Falinos!”

It had been an intense moment. By all rights, the three of them were full-fledged brothers in the eyes of the Dryad law. It was a ceremony that Meric had only ever performed once, with Jarustus, his best friend since saplinghood. They had both accepted posts as soldiers after they came of age, and together had gone through not a few skirmishes with the Daemons in the Shadowlands. Then they had returned to Lantes to serve as Kingshadows, the palace guards. Now, only a few years removed from frontline duty, they had been reassigned – Meric to the Gate, Jarustus to Farnost in the East. It had been a definite blow when the news came, but, after this term of duty, they would be given officer’s positions in the locations of their choice.

Meric suddenly realized that Falinos the Naiad hadn’t replied. A chill crept over Meric, inexplicable and quite unlike the shivers he had experienced entering the valley.

“Hruuum! Falinos, report!” Bjor the Troll and commanding officer, called out again for the Naiad to check in. Tension rose as the silence stretched out.

“Meric, check Falinos. Keepers, on the alert.”
As Meric moved towards the pool and Falinos’s post, several things happened at once. Out of the corner of his eye, Meric saw a shadow attack Bjor. The massive Troll went down and didn’t move. A grunt from Thulgar and a dull thud indicated the dwarf had been attacked as well. Larkin attempted to sprint across the clearing to the camp and rouse the others, but an unseen force felled him. That’s when Meric felt the branches of the trees pull him in. He panicked for a moment, but was quickly soothed as the trees spoke to him in deep, rich tones. He succumbed and became one with the trees, helpless to save his fellow Keepers – if there were any left to save.

The sheer magnitude of the trees’ collective presence almost overwhelmed Meric – he felt himself slipping into unconsciousness, his soul being absorbed into the trees. With great effort, he fought it off.

He had to do something! The Gate was under attack. By who, or what, he had no idea. Three shadows moved into the clearing. They were not Faerie. They were not Keepers. They were Daemons. Here in the Faerie Realm! How had they made it so deep into the Kingdom without being detected?

Enraged and desperate, Meric strained against the trees, fighting to be released. The Daemons were walking towards the Gate, but even as they did, a vision, from the consciousness of the trees, rushed to him. The vision was of this exact same location, but the moon was shining and the Gate wasn’t standing. It had been cast down, and amidst its ruins were two creatures – Faerie-like, and yet unlike. They were youth, barely grown up, a girl and a younger boy. Meric, with sudden realization, knew what they were: Humans! He was seeing a vision of Ancient Terra! Even as it dawned on him, the children faded from sight, and in their stead were the Daemons. Then the vision ceased.

The meaning of the vision was suddenly clear. Whether the ancient trees had revealed it to him, or other magic was in play, it mattered not. The Daemons were attempting to return to Ancient Terra – and the Gate was a portal to that world. With a great heave, Meric broke through the bonds of the trees and then paused. The three Daemons turned on him, bloodlust in their eyes. Meric, confused and weakened from escaping the trees was at a loss. He was going to die. The power these Daemons exuded was far stronger than his own. So he did the unthinkable.

Effortlessly, Meric reversed time. He had to warn the other Keepers of the danger. His head swimming, he stepped out of the timestream, into the calm of the night a few minutes before the attack. All of the Keepers were at their positions.

“Bjor! We are under attack by Daemons – they’re going to attack Falin—”

Meric never got to finish what he was saying. For one terrifying moment, time stopped, and Meric realized with horror what was about to happen. He had invoked another one of the Forbiddings. The Fabric of Time had been torn, and the consequences would be deadly. Meric snapped back to reality just as a bluish hue enveloped the valley. The Present was torn apart and a shockwave of energy obliterated everything in its path. Meric’s last thought was hoping the Watcher’s would be able to repair the rend quickly. Then he was flung into blackness and the trees claimed him.

™*     *     *     *     *™        ˜

The moon was sinking behind a distant, hilly treeline, and on the opposite horizon, the stars were being swallowed by a rolling, boiling mass of clouds when the trio first caught sight of their goal. Down in the valley, the last beams of light caught the surface of the pool and cast a shimmering glow on the Gate. But there were only a few moments to view the peaceful scene.

The three Daemons had the strange sensation that they had been here before – in the backs of their minds, like a faint impression of a dream that flees upon waking. They remembered the descent into the valley and the swift, merciless killings of the Faeries. The taste of their blood and souls was even still on their lips.

Leech knew what had happened. One of the Faeries had slid back in time. The Daemon tensed momentarily, knowing that they might face armed and ready guards. Then the explosion came. The wind howled and whipped. A wave of heat washed over the Daemons on the ridge and the trees screamed as they were incinerated. The three watched with wicked eyes as the bright souls down in the valley melted away and dissipated into the air. Not a single one remained.

It was easier than Leech could have hoped for. He had no explanation for why this just happened, but he wasn’t about to waste an opportunity. The Faeries would have noticed something this big back in the Watcher’s Tower, and an investigation team would soon be arriving.

Stealthily, they crept into the valley, maintaining the invisibility that had got them thus far – the invisibility that came with being a shadow. Trained eyes might have been able to spot them, if they were expecting or looking for an enemy. But who expected a shadow to be anything more than that?

They were down by the pool now. The Gate was just in front of them. Leech turned suddenly and yelled for the other two Daemons, Trace and Kraden, to follow. A half dozen souls had appeared on the ridge they had just descended.

The Watchers.

The pool suddenly erupted in a fantastic geyser and moved to intercept the Daemons. There was a Wizard in their group! Leech reacted and pushed the water aside. Slipping into Tempus Lentus, the Watchers quickly bridged the gap. A true shot from a bow landed in Kraden’s shoulder. The brute ripped it out and shredded the shaft in his maw.

Trace was violently shoved with magic – he bounced off of a rocky outcropping, spun and continued on. The Daemons would not be stopped so close to their goal! For a moment Leach considered turning and fighting, then decided against that course of action. He couldn’t risk defeat – too much depended on this mission. Even though it was against every drop of Daemon blood that ran through him, he raced on.

A Were appeared in front of him, seemingly out of nowhere and transformed into its Bruin appearance, blocking the way to the Gate. With a sudden screech of delight, Leech feinted and then turned on the Were, almost instantly sucking the life out of the Faerie. A hollow shell of the body was all that was left as Leech impassively leapt the last few spans to the Gate, inwardly reveling in his most recent kill.

Even moving in Tempus Lentus, the Watchers were not able to catch up. They watched helplessly as the Daemons passed through the Gate and evaporated into thin air. The Watchers stood in shock, unmoving, until three figures emerged from the Gate and collapsed on the ground. It wasn’t the Daemons.

Justin Lefaye couldn’t believe what he was looking at. Was this some kind of joke? Really? A letter from 1947, addressed to him. His parents weren’t even born by 1947! There wasn’t any way that someone, or this Chloe Abbot person, could have known about him… 50 years ago! He shook his mop of curly auburn hair in disbelief. It just didn’t make sense.

“Well?” The lady behind the post office counter spoke. Justin looked up, and noticed that quite a few people had gathered around.

“Well, what?” he replied defensively.

“We’ve been holding that letter for 50 years, and you ask ‘Well, what?’ What’s in the letter, of course?”
“You don’t actually mean that you’ve had this letter for 50 years, do you? It’s gotta be some kind of a prank!”

An older looking gentleman wearing a smart looking blazer and khakis stepped closer to the counter. “Son, I’ve been the postmaster here for the last 32 years, and my father, bless his soul, was the postmaster before me. He was personally given that letter by one Chloe Abbot 50 years ago to this day. I promise you that much.”

“But… but…” Justin sputtered. “It doesn’t make any sense! How could anyone have known that I would be here, today. I mean, I just stopped by to mail home a couple of postcards to some friends. Its not like I live here… I’m from Iowa! Atkins, Iowa, not Gunnison, Colorado!”

“You know as much as we do, son. Actually, more. You’ve got the letter, y’see. We’ve been pretty curious these last 50 years, wondering what was in that letter. We’ve even been taking bets this year, on if you’d show up or not…”

“Which reminds me,” said one of the postmen, “You owe me 50 bucks, Bernard.”

“Hmph, not now, ladies and gentlemen. This is a mo-men-tous occasion! Part of my family heritage, it is. So, what does the letter have to say?” queried the Postmaster, before quickly adding, “Now, I know, its officially none of my business, so if you’d rather not say, I understand. It’s your right. But, like I said, you’ve got some awfully curious folks who’ve been wandering!” By this point, the postmaster was leaning over the counter, trying to catch a glimpse of the contents of the enigmatic letter. Justin just kept staring at what was in his hands.

“I… I don’t know,” Justin said. “Just gibberish, stuff about buying boots, and visiting the lawyer’s office and the fate of the world!”

At this, the postmaster’s face grew very serious. He pulled away from the counter. He scrunched up his face and thought for a few seconds. The other postal workers were silent, expectantly waiting. “The fate of the world? Are you sure, son?”

“Sure. It says that I have to go somewhere, up past the resort I’m staying at, and if I don’t, that I…” Justin stopped. It was just to silly.

“Is it a threat, Mr. Lefaye?”

“No, I don’t think so… it just says that I may cease to… well, to exist.” Justin handed over the letter.

One of the clerks let out a guffaw. He was quickly silenced by the Postmaster. Everyone stood in silence for a very uncomfortable minute. Justin shifted his weight around. This entire situation was quite odd.

“It seems to me,” said the Postmaster, “that it’s pretty obvious what you need to do, son.”

“It is?” said Justin.

“Look, somebody knows an awful lot about you. How, I don’t know, but they knew, 50 years ago, that you’d be here t’day, and left you very specific instructions. Maybe it was magic, or God, or a Guardian Angel. Not much interest in religious stuff personally, prob’ly should now, but I s’pose it could happen. And it sounds awful important, doesn’t it?”

“Well, yes, but..”

“But what? No buts about it! The only way you’re going to get any answers is to do what this letter says! Here…” The Postmaster handed the letter back to Justin, who almost didn’t grab it. He wasn’t sure he wanted this letter back. “Sounds like you better get a move on.”

The employees of the postal office watched Justin expectantly. He took a deep breath, then asked, “Which way?”

“To where, son? You know as well as me!”

“To Harwood and Sons.”

™ *     *     *     *     *

Three hours later, Justin was still following the trail. It had been a while since he had left the Taylor river behind and clambered up the mountain on the opposite side of the river. So far it had been a relatively uneventful journey. The mountains, though beautiful, were still the mountains. But for all the tranquility of the nature around him, all kinds of worrisome thoughts were jumping into his head. Was he going to get mugged out here in the wild? He’d pretty much decided against that happening. It was a pretty elaborate set-up for something that could have been done to him at any point during the last week. He’d been fishing up and down the Taylor river plenty of times, and most of those times he’d been alone.

Or maybe there was buried treasure up in the mountains that had been left for him. Or maybe his parents were playing a prank on him. A very elaborate prank. Maybe it was a scheme by the outfitter’s store to get more boot customers! Or maybe the whole thing was just one big mistake.

In any case, it seemed impossible that the letter was actually telling the truth. The fate of Two Worlds? That didn’t even make sense. Earth, maybe, but Two Worlds was just bonkers. What did it mean? Aliens or something?

Justin was busy pondering all of these possibilities, still tramping down the trail, when he came to the fork in the path. Just like the letter said, the one to the left led down. He sighed. He was hoping that at some point, the letter would be wrong and he could give up and turn around and go home. No such luck. From the cost of the boots, to the description of this trail, even his name, the cryptic letter had been completely accurate.

So, he tucked the letter back into his jeans pocket and plunged ahead. The Swiss Army Knife in his new boot was feeling pretty painful by now. But the letter had been quite clear on that bit of direction. So, he just grimaced, set his teeth and continued.

Soon, the trail descended into a clearing, lined with trees. In the middle was a pool of water, perfectly still and crystal clear. It looked to be quite deep. As he stepped into the valley, Justin felt a tingling sensation run up and down his spine. He almost felt as if he was being watched, or watched over.

There at the far end of the pool was the ring of rubble. Large shapes of a very smooth, white stone were scattered around. As he approached, Justin could see that they must have originally been assembled with each other to form a structure or statue. There were carvings all over the rock, some pictures, others some kind of writing that he couldn’t comprehend or recognize at all. Finally, in the middle of the rubble was the hefty black stone the letter had promised.

It was the largest piece of rubble in the area, shining, quite black and almost glazed like a piece of pottery, similar to obsidian, yet not as sharp and angular. And it seemed to be drawing him towards it, like a magnetic pull. It took Justin a few moments to realize he was actually walking towards the stone, but not under his own will.

“What the…” he murmured. He tried to fight back, or at least, he felt like he should fight back. And then, even that resistance was gone. He wanted to go sit down on the black stone. It seemed like the right thing to do. It would be nice to rest his feet for a moment. The stone needed him to sit down…

Justin shook his head. That last thought was ridiculous! But it was too late. He was already at the stone, and then, before he knew it, he was sitting down on it.

Nothing happened.

Justin just sat there at the stone. Minutes went by, and he tried getting up, only to find that he was quite stuck to the stone. He could move his arms and legs around, but he was firmly planted on the stone. Justin managed to stay calm. Surely, he thought, the glue would wear off in a while, and he’d be able to squirm his way free. Some joke… get me to come out here and then I sit on a pile of super glue and get myself stuck to a rock.

Without warning, or sound, or any other kind of noticeable change, a body suddenly appeared on the ground, not five feet away. It was leaning on its side, with its back to Justin, until it slowly fell onto its back, revealing an ugly sight. Justin screamed.

The face was scratched and disfigured, and there was blood pouring out of the torso from a gaping ugly wound. One hand was mangled, and the left leg was bent at a sickening angle just below the hip. The eyes rolled towards Justin, blinked once, and then a slow stream of air hissed out of the mouth, followed by a trickle of blood.

Justin was looking at himself. Dead. He would have kept on screaming, but an invisible force stopped him, choking out his voice and his breath. That’s when the world began to go black all around. Justin thought for sure he must be passing out, until he realized he was still conscious and it was the world around him that was changing. He remained stuck to the black stone as the last bit of sunlight was swallowed up in the overwhelming darkness.

*     *     *     *     *

˜

“Chloe, what’s happening?” murmured Christopher. Overhead, the blackness had closed over the one last patch of sky -and moonlight. It wasn’t clouds. Christopher knew that much for sure. It had gotten too dark.

A ferocious noise rent the air, and the brother and sister gasped and startled. The sky had just torn, right in front of their eyes. There’s wasn’t any other way to describe it. Suddenly, like fabric under immense pressure, it had just ripped apart. A fog blew in and began to swirl, more of a sensation that a visual certainty. It was too dark to tell.

“Hold on to me, Christopher,” whispered Chloe.

Pitch black. Void. Christopher wandered if they were dead. Chloe wandered how long it would be until they were.

Then the stars came out. Not as distant, twinkling point of light, but as luminous orgs in all different sizes, some so close, Christopher thought she could reach out and take them in his hand. A very silly idea, he thought. Very silly indeed.

That’s when he noticed another person there with them. Another boy. And if my eyes are as wide as his, we both must look pretty absurd right now. The newcomer was shaking profusely, and a look of utter terror was plastered on his face.

Christopher gave a start and nearly fell, tugging on Chloe’s arm. He began to feel dizzy. Not only were there stars in front and around and above him, they were beneath him as well. There was simply no ground. For a second, his brain reacted and braced for a fall. Then he steadied himself.

Everything was gone – at least it looked that way until Christopher inspected his surroundings more closely. The pool might still be there. It was hard to tell, since it just reflected the light. But he thought he caught a shimmer and ripple every so often. And over there was the line of trees. A strange shape stood at the end of the pool. It looked like a Gate. That was where the mist was coming from, he realized. It was billowing forth from the stone Gate.

“Chloe?”

It was so quiet here, wherever and whatever ‘here’ was. Christopher’s voice seemed obnoxious and almost disrespectful. Chloe gave him a comforting squeeze, then turned to face the other boy. He surprised her when he spoke.

“Chloe? Chloe Abbot?” The tremor in his voice was quite apparent.

He knew her last name? “Yes…” she replied tentatively, and offered her other hand. He took it without hesitation. When he did, Chloe nearly recoiled. His flesh was so cold, he must be freezing, she thought.

“What’s that?” the new boy asked, his voice hushed and icy.

Christopher and Chloe followed his eyes. They were locked on the Gate. Three shadowy forms had appeared in the midst of the fog. Their red eyes burned like hot coals in the starlit darkness. Christopher felt a nameless dread take hold of her like no emotion ever had, crippling her sense and paralyzing her body. The creature’s eyes never left their location as they moved past the huddled trio. On the way by, the one in the middle stretched a vicious claw out, plucked a star out of the Void, grinned wickedly and gave it a violent squeeze. The star burst. Its glowing embers stayed suspended in mid-space for a brief instant, and then burned out.

Christopher cringed. Never before had he seen such a cruel, malicious act. Something had died, something innocent and wonderful, and glowing. It wounded him inside and made him feel nauseous.

And then, the creatures passed and were gone into the Void. Christopher had the awful idea that they might be going back to wherever he had just come from. And that he might be going to wherever the beings had just left. Neither thought was particularly pleasant.

While he pondered which would be the preferable way to die – back home where the evil creatures surely were, out there, on the other side of the Gate where they came from, or here in the Void among the stars and far from anything he had ever known other than his older sister, some more movement caught his eye. The movement wasn’t from the Gate, but from the Void off to the right.

It was Chloe, or rather a very different version of herself, but her all the same, walking towards where the trio stood. The other her’s hair was braided and pulled back. She wore strange clothes, and her shirt was tucked into a belt, upon which hung a short sword. Chloe stayed motionless as the other girl walked up, placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder and then turned.

A boy just like the one next to her stood a little was behind. He didn’t approach his double, but stood apart, emotionally distant. Christopher looked around for his other half, expecting to find one, but was disappointed. Everything was so confusing at this point, he had no way to process what was going on. The other selves walked on now. Just before the two disappeared into the mist, the boy looked back and made eye contact with deep sad eyes that were riveting, begging for help and rescue. And then they were gone, leaving just the three alone again, the fog still pouring from the Gate.

There wasn’t long to contemplate their next step, however. Without moving, they began to draw near to the Gate. Or rather, it began to approach them, for the stars stayed motionless. Chloe wanted to turn and run away, but was rooted to whatever he was standing on. The boy next to her, hand still frosty, must have felt her arm tense, because he whispered, “It’s ok.” Chloe wasn’t convinced. Fear grew in her as the Gate got closer and closer.

Christopher flinched and closed his eyes. Chloe was thinking that this was not how she expected her plan to go at all. And then they were through the Gate. There was real earth beneath their feet.

Christopher didn’t have much time to observe anything else. Time itself suddenly sped up quite dramatically, causing him to lose his already feeble grip on consciousness. When the ground started to slide and bend beneath his feet, he lost it, and gave in to the darkness.

Chloe Abbot! What do ya think yer doin’?

“Ssshh!” the girl whispered to herself, as if doing so would silence the voice in her head. She tried to ignore its presence and busied herself with the task at hand. Her trembling fingers were having a difficult time tying down the saddle, but at last she managed and took a deep breath.

“You can do this.”

A noise from the other end of the barn startled her, and she jumped back, ready to crouch into the shadows cast by the full moon. It’s just The Mayor… she thought, alluding to her older brother’s horse. She cautiously inched back to her own horse, a chestnut mare named Gypsy who was slightly undersized for a mountain horse but full of vigor and spirit. The two fit each other perfectly. “The matching puzzle pieces,” was what Chloe’s older Charlie said about them. Gypsy was “the only thing she’d ever really fit with.”

Thinking about Charlie caused the slightest hint of a smile to show on Chloe’s otherwise grim and determined face. He’d always meant it as a joke, of course, but considering he was her twin (older only by a few minutes), there was a grain of truth in it. They were both proud of her independent streak. She never let being small, or being a girl, get in the way of anything she set her mind on. She’d competed at the county fair with Charlie and the boys in almost every contest, from foot races to horse races, calf-roping to bull riding, pie eating to skeet shooting. And in the schoolhouse she held her ground too, reading voraciously whenever she wasn’t cooking supper, or helping out with the chores, or busy being the only female in the house. With Charlie gone off to the War, she was also the eldest remaining child.

And now yer just gonna go an’ leave ‘em! What’re Pa and Christopher gonna do without ya!

She shook her head and began to transfer a few packages wrapped in brown paper from a burlap bag into the saddlebags – food, a few articles of clothing, a Bible, a map, a pouch of money (her entire savings), and finally a picture frame, which she glanced at for the briefest of moments before hiding away the figures, ghost-like in the moonlight.

Gypsy snickered and tapped her front right hoof. “I know girl, I’m trying to hurry. It’s not the easiest thing, packing your life into a couple leather pouches.” Gypsy nodded her head, as if in appreciation of the difficulties Chloe was facing.

Chloe tossed the bags aside and did a final check of everything she’d brought. Her heart began to beat a little faster. “Papers… clothes, nice clothes! My money, the Good Book, food, my picture… the map, got that too… oh, darn it all! Hang on tight, Gypsy, I’ll be back soon.”

Leaving her horse behind, she left the barn and stole back to the two story house at the other end of the clearing. There were no clouds in sight, and Chloe felt oddly exposed in the moonlight. The wind was calm and for all purposes it was a dead summer’s evening.

At the house, she painstakingly opened the front door, avoiding the rusty squeak that threatened to give her away. Past her father’s room she tiptoed, and hearing no sign of wakefulness, she crept up the stairs, skipping the fourth step up, to the second story. Her room was at the end of the hallway, directly over her father’s room. Without daring to set foot in her room one last time, she stretched her arm around the frame of the door, grabbed hold of the leather strap and pulled it off the hook it hung on. It was safely in her hands – a Colt .45 pistol, Model O. Charlie had given it to her on a whim before he had been shipped out two months earlier, saying it was his ‘extra’ and would be something for her to remember him by.

Pa woulda kilt me if’n I’d left without this…

Breathing more easily, she retraced her steps. Christopher, her 15 year old brother, rolled over in is his bed as she passed. Then it was back down the stairs, skipping stair four, through the kitchen, past her father’s room and out the door.

It squealed as the spring pulled it shut, and not just any old squeak, but in the stillness of this night, it sounded like the Jensens on the other side of the mountain could have heard it. Not daring to wait and find out the result of the blunder, Chloe took off running towards the barn, trying to strap on her pistol as she bounced up and down, her long red hair trailing behind her.

“Time to go, Gypsy!” she hissed as the raced into the barn. She gave one last tug on the saddle to make sure it was cinched, and swung up into the saddle. With a gentle nudge from her heels, she urged Gypsy forward to the barn door. Chloe almost breathed a sigh of relief, thinking she was in the clear, but stopped short when a light suddenly flickered in the house.

“Darn it!” Knowing full well that she had to get as much distance between her and the house as possible, Chloe kicked Gypsy into a gallop and took off pell mell down the path. She dared not think about how long it would take for her father to figure out what had happened. So she prayed.

God in Heaven, ya know what I gotta do. I gotta make it to Denver. Just get me there in time, God in Heaven. Charlie needs me…

It was only a matter of minutes before Chloe reached the edge of their ranch. She burst onto the road that connected Crested Butte in the north to Gunnison in the south. It wasn’t much more than a wide dirt path at its best, and at its worst it was merely guesswork for those unfamiliar with the area. But it was the quickest way to get to Cottonwood Pass, and that was the quickest way to get over the mountains.

The mountain air felt good rushing past her face, the familiar crisp tinge and hint of humidity. On either side, the aspens and pines stood tall and somber, perfectly still in the night and oblivious to the girl that thundered past. An occasional rut or rain gulley would appear in front of her, but Gypsy would take it in stride, being a sure-footed mountain born horse.

After a few minutes had passed, Chloe felt the immediate danger of being pursued had passed, so she let Gypsy ease up. “Good Girl,” she whispered soothingly. “We’ve got a long ways ahead of us yet to go, so pace yourself.”

Her heart all a flutter from her daring escape, she took a few deep breaths to focus her mind that had been running as fast as her horse. The image of the poster she had seen in Crested Butte nearly three weeks ago came to mind. It was about an organization called the Red Cross, a humanitarian relief group made up of doctors and nurses and volunteers. There was a desperate need, the poster said, for nurses who were willing to travel to Europe and assist in the treatment of wounded American and Allied soldiers, and to tend to the civilians who had been affected by the War. Chloe hadn’t heard about the Red Cross before, but she did know about the War. Charlie had been drafted in May, and by June, he was off to go fight in a war he thought would never affect him. They said it would be the War to End All Wars, and while the whole country certainly hoped this would turn out to be true, the only thing Chloe hoped for was the safe return of her twin brother.

She had felt so helpless and insignificant, unable to do anything but wait and pray, until she saw the poster, blowing in the wind, tacked to the board outside the Post Office. That was when she knew she had to go. This was her chance to made a difference, if not for Charlie, than at least for somebody else who had a younger sister waiting back at home. Besides, she had to be one of the better caretakers in the county, be it livestock or children. Certainly this Red Cross could use her help!

So, she’d plucked up the courage to ask her father. That conversation hadn’t turned out very well. Lose my oldest son and my only daughter to this God forsaken war? I think not! And that was that.

Or at least, Chloe let on that it was. The fire of determination still burned deep within her, and she knew this was a cause that she couldn’t forsake. So, she laid her plans. The volunteer sign-up was being held in Denver, nearly 230 miles away, and the last day to register was August 24^th. Now it was August 14^th, and that gave her ten days to get to Denver, and she was reasonably confident that she and Gypsy could cover that kind of ground. All of the packing she had done little by little, so as not to be noticed. Of course, it had been tricky trying to act like nothing was going on. It had been especially difficult on Sunday two days earlier to not start crying in church when prayers were said for the soldiers and the volunteers overseas. She couldn’t even risk saying goodbye to her best friend, Maryanne Quincy who was almost like the little sister she never had.

Chloe wondered what everyone would think when they discovered she had disappeared. She hadn’t left a note – she worried that they somehow might be able to stop her if they found out her plan. She was 18 and old enough to decide things for herself, but oh, the gossip that would spread in the valley!

They’ll prob’ly think I gone and run off with that Puckett boy from Gunnison. Everyone knows he’s sweet on me, e’en though I can’t stand his smell, or his eyes, or his whiny lil’ voice…

This caused Chloe to giggle a little bit. Not just the thought of the unattractive Master Puckett, but also because, try as hard as she might, in her mind she still sounded like some backwards, uncivilized mountain girl. It had taken her many years of deliberate work to make sure when she opened her mouth she sounded somewhat decent, but inside, the western drawl of her father and family still lingered.

She and Gypsy were still dashing along at a good clip, and had covered about three or four miles. Chloe guessed it was now about four in the morning. Given another couple of hours, the sun would be peeking up above the mountain peaks, and she still hoped to get as many miles before daylight between her and any who might try and stop her from her quest. The moon was just about to fall below the horizon, and that would slow her down considerably.

A cloud rolled in and briefly caused a patch of deep darkness and shadows, and at that moment as Chloe slowed, she heard two unmistakable sounds. The first was that of hoofs, tearing down the road from the north and coming nearer with every second. However, she didn’t have long to worry about this development, because the second sound was a long unearthly howl from somewhere in front of her. It was quickly answered by a crowd of howls and yips from all around. Wolves!

Gypsy came to a complete halt and gave a nervous little prance. “Shhh, it’ll be ok,” said Chloe in her mare’s ear, although she wasn’t entirely sure that it would be. The howls had stopped, but Chloe almost wished they would keep it up, because then, at least, she could hear how near or far they were. For now, she just knew they were out there.

She coaxed Gypsy into a gentle walk, although she could still feel her panic and tension. Chloe kept talking and whispering as soothingly as she could. The hoof beats of the approaching rider were still getting louder. It couldn’t be more than a few hundred feet away by now.

The cloud over the moon passed, and Chloe caught a brief but terrifying glimpse of the road in front of her. Three sets of eyes reflected the moonlight back at her. She might have spent more time staring at them had not Gypsy suddenly reared in panic as a wolf jumped at her hindquarters, narrowly missing. And then the mare bolted.

It was all Chloe could do to hold on for dear life. She wasn’t a bad rider by any means, but never had she ridden a horse that feared for its existence. Gypsy gave no thought whatsoever to the creature on her back. The horse screamed and burst off the road and into the rocky mountainous terrain. Chloe felt tree branches whip past her face, almost winding her and knocking her off, but she held on for dear life.

“Chloe!!”

Her heart gave a great leap. It was Christopher, her younger brother! Of course, only The Mayor could have caught up to her so quickly.

“Christopher!” she called back desperately.

“Hang on, Chloe!”

Chloe had lost all sense of direction at this point, but somehow, she could still hear her brother’s approach getting nearer. The growls and howls of the wolves were also gaining on her.

She turned her head around, hoping it would help her brother hear her better. “Christopher! There’re wol…”

Chloe didn’t have a chance to finish her warning. An overhanging aspen branch reached out of nowhere and caught her squarely on the chest, picking her up out of her saddle and depositing her promptly on the ground. She cried out in pain. Gypsy kept on her mad course, plunging off into the night. Gone.

Dazed, disoriented, and feeling a sharp pain in her side, Chloe stumbled to her feet and felt for her Colt .45. It was missing, and her holster flap was open. Panic gripped at her throat. The wolves were still coming.

Chloe did the only thing she could think of – run. The moon was out again, and she noticed that she was in some sort of open clearing. There was a neat line of trees to her right and left, and just ahead a shimmering object on the ground.

Only too late did she realize the shimmering object was in fact the moon’s reflection in a pool of still water. She splashed in, and being unprepared for the sudden change in resistance, fell face down into the water. It was only a couple of feet deep, but Chloe knew one thing. She would rather face wolves than water. It was one of her biggest fears. So she scrambled up and to the shore. She glanced behind and saw the outline of two wolves about twenty yards behind, standing on a little knoll, their shadows stretching towards her.

“Christopher! I’m over here!” she screamed. As she did, her brother and horse appeared on the same outcropping as the wolves and the canines scattered. Christopher dismounted and ran towards his sister.

“Chloe! What d’ya think yer doin’!”

She clambered forward, sobbing. “Christopher, I’m sorry, I’m sorry… I’ve got to go…”

“Go where! What are ya doin’ runnin’ away in the middle of the night like this?”

And then they were in one another’s arms. Chloe buried her head in her brother’s shoulder.

“Are ya’lright? Are ya hurt?”

“No, I don’t think so… Gypsy!” cried Chloe.

“It’s alright. We can get ‘er back in the mornin’. But what were ya doin’?” Christopher questioned.

“Goin’… goin’ to Denver, to sign up… for the Red Cross.” Chloe paused to get her breath. “I want to go help Charlie, or at least, to go help someone over there, but Pa said…”

“I know what Pa said. I figured as much. So ya thought y’could take off in the middle of the night. Good thing I had a hunch, huh? But enough chat, we gotta get ya back. Who knows when those wolves’ll be back.”

They had turned around and started to walk back to The Mayor when the howling started again. “Dang! Spoke too soon…” quipped Christopher. The Mayor needed no further warning. He turned tail and took off back towards home.

“Behind me, Chloe. Back up slowly. Into the shadows there by the rocks…”

The crept past the pool and beyond it into an area of rubble. Large chunks of stone were all around, shimmering white in the moonlight. Christopher reached down and grabbed a smaller rock, and readied to throw it at the first moving creature that came in sight.

Chloe and Christopher couldn’t see the wolves, but they sure could hear them. They were all around. Chloe slid a clammy hand into her brother’s, who gave her a reassuring squeeze.

Then the black crept in. It wasn’t a darkness like that of the moon disappearing behind cloud or hill. It wasn’t even a darkness like night. It was like a darkness caused by emptiness. Chloe first noticed it up in the sky. A patch of the stars were suddenly blotted out, and it grew larger with every second. It spread down to the horizon, over the mountains, into the trees and across the clearing.

“Christopher?”

The moon gave a feeble last shimmer, and in those final glimpses of silvery light, Chloe could have sworn she saw three wolves standing up on their hind legs. And then, all was black.