Aissaba only had to throw her handful of wiper pebbles once, when a dog-sized shadow stepped out of the darkness and began to skitter toward her. At its center, she could see the brown glow of map magic. Reflexively, her blue pebbles left her hand, streaking like shooting stars into the general vicinity of the oncoming darkness. A moment later, the brown glow was gone, and the forest floor was littered with blue stars. And bones, she saw, as she crept closer.

“Nice!” said cat-Styxx. “We call them bone collectors – rogue map pebbles that float around collecting… well, bones obviously. Rocks too, sometimes. Most are pretty harmless – but if they get to a certain size, they can start harvesting from larger and larger animals. It can get out of hand.”

He collected the blue pebbles from the constellation and handed them back to Aissaba. Then, he hunted around in the bone pile until he found the map pebble, which disappeared with a faint slurp into an organic pouch he wore on his wrist.

“The bone collectors are one of the simpler pebble hybrids that have evolved here,” he said. “Not technically even a species – more like a computer virus. But still, we’ve observed surprisingly complex behavior from them.” Then, he seemed to reconsider, placing his open palm near the pouch, which spat the pebble back out. “As a matter of fact, I’d like to reflash this one and study its protocol. Incidentally, the bone collectors are the first pebble creatures we’ve decided to introduce to Earth.”

He went on, pretending not to notice that Aissaba and Tassadu were frozen in their attempts to process the “introduce to Earth” part. He chattered away about the different sub-varieties of bone collectors and how interesting it was that map magic could approximate organic behavior simply by maneuvering small objects. As he spoke, he casually tapped the darkened map pebble against Aissaba’s handful of wiper pebbles. This apparently, reflashed it, because it immediately floated out of cat-Styxx’s hand, toward the pile of bones. The pile reanimated into an approximation of a spider, long spindly legs and a maw of fangs.

“There!” said cat-Styxx. “Good as new, but non-aggressive. Now you have a pet to take care of together. So… I’ve been wondering, are the two of you, like… an item?”

“Um, can we circle back to the part about putting bone collectors on Earth?” said Tassadu.

“If you want,” said cat-Styxx with a shrug. “It’s just that I was watching the two of you in our infinite stairwell challenge, and I couldn’t help but notice–”

“There’s no way,” Aissaba interjected, “that the Fortress is going to allow you to introduce magical creatures into Earth’s ecosystem. The Master of Life has enough trouble keeping things stable as it is.”

“By the Fortress, you mean your Fortress?” said cat-Styxx, busying himself with harvesting another life pebble, face awash in the soft green glow. “And I think you’re dodging the question.”

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

“No you’re dodging the question,” said Tassadu. “Let me rephrase, is your Fortress trying to bring about some kind of pebble apocalypse on Earth?”

“Apocalypse?” said cat-Styxx, appraising the pebble he had just extracted, lighting his face in the process. Was he trying to draw attention to his features? Aissaba chose to ignore the way he glanced up at her, seeming to catch a galaxy of green stars in the facets of his cat-like irises. “Your Master of Language defines what ‘world’ means – and therefore what its ‘end’ means. But as you can see all around you – a world full of pebbles can be perfectly stable.”

With the newly acquired life pebble, he did something in the shadows that Aissaba couldn’t see. Suddenly though, a bioluminescent bloom of flowers lit the night. He plucked two flowers from the bouquet and gave one to each of them.

Is he recruiting or seducing us? Tassadu’s face asked her.

“So… what? It’s all a matter of language?” said Aissaba, squinting at cat-Styxx through the glowing flower petals. “Up is down, down is up, and… apocalypse shmocalypse? That’s your whole argument?”

“No,” said cat-Styxx. “My whole argument is that your Master of Language’s tyranny of definitions has almost come to an end. One of our Masters is on the verge of accepting his surrender as we speak. And when that happens, the definitions of the words ‘ending’ and ‘beginning’ will be up for grabs.”

***

“Honestly,” said Cassandra, looking out at the graveyard, where smoke rings still drifted like ghosts, “maybe we should just go back and ask him…” The bone creatures, still trying to rip their way through the roof, were starting to become more annoying than scary. “Maybe it’s just their way of saying hello.”

“They?” said the Master of Language.

“I don’t know,” said Cassandra. “The cult, or whatever.”

To Cassandra’s surprise and mild terror, both ancient Masters nodded thoughtfully. I’m twelve, she wanted to shout at them. You should not be listening to me!

With a sigh, the Master of Language reached down into the space beside the passenger's seat and returned with two swords, map pebbles in the hilts. The moment he exited the vehicle, a storm of bones came down upon him. Whenever they ripped a piece of him off, it dematerialized into dots and returned to its proper place. With skillful footwork and several flaming arcs of his blades, the bone creatures were gradually reduced to piles of white rubble. The pebbles controlling the bones eventually gave up, went dark, and found their way into the pocket of the Master’s robe. “Come on,” he called, already embarking back across the graveyard.

“Time to say hello back,” said the Master of Mind, opening the door from the inside and waiting for Cassandra and Orion to exit. Back into the snow – back toward Grandpa, whose plaid flannel could be seen in the distance once again. He was laughing hysterically.