They’d had to move out of the house. With their location compromised, it would not have made sense to stay. If they’d attempted to steal the mask once, they could try again.

The big question was... who had tried it?

It had to be the Zendaar, of course... but had it been Valerian, or these others who had messaged him?

The former seemed the most likely suspect. He had been in a rage, after all, had he not? While the others were still negotiating with him, and so would have no motive to try something like this.

He’d even received a confirmation letter from them. They wanted to meet.

Jack wondered if he should go without the mask, as he had with the madman. It would be safer, of course, but it would also drag the whole process longer, and he wasn’t sure how much more time he could afford to lose.

The pains were spreading through his body. There wasn’t a part of him that didn’t ache.

It had been difficult enough to move. Though the adrenaline had helped in that particular case.

The only thing that kept him going now was hope.

If these Zendaar tricked him, who would he turn to?

So he might as well bring the mask.

It was his last hope.

His last chance to survive this dreadful illness.

Their new place was a small apartment in a run-down building. Victor had suggested it, as he knew the owner’s son. Jack had been concerned it might be another fanatic out for foreigner blood, but the boy had assured him this man did not care about politics or religion. His only god was money. And Jack had plenty of that.

The downside was they only had one room. Victor had insisted Jack sleep in the bed—he could see his health deteriorating every day—while he would lie on the couch. He would fit better there anyway, as he was smaller.

He reread the message and smiled.

The meeting was for tonight.

If all went well, tomorrow, he’d be a new man. No more coughing and no more suffering.

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Though something troubled him.

The message made no mention of the price he asked. It only stated they wanted to meet.

What did it mean?

He had assumed it meant they agreed to his terms, but now he was not so sure anymore.

Were they going to try to trick him?

He coughed and looked at the mask that rested on a nearby chair.

The boy would keep it, he decided. They’d put it in a bag and the boy would hide somewhere nearby. If all things went well, he’d have it brought to him. If not, Victor would take it back to the authorities.

If he didn’t get what he wanted, why would he let the Zendaar have what they wanted?

***

Alarms blared all around him as he scanned through the reports. There were no errors.

This was what he had feared the most.

The renegades had become more daring.

They had separated and launched attacks in different spots.

He could not stop them all.

It just wasn’t possible.

Which meant he’d have to decide which of the three to stop.

He quickly brought up population counts and directed his ship toward the area with the largest number. It tore him he had to sacrifice all those other people, but what else was he to do?

The ship landed on the outskirts of Eqqalin. With a population of over two million, it was one of the largest cities on the planet.

Panic had already spread through the streets, with crowds attempting to flee the region. Entire buildings had collapsed into giant chasms. Those that still stood were in flames, with large cracks forming all over their walls.

He wondered if the time he’d taken to double-check the data and pick a site hadn’t made him arrive too late to stop even one of these earthquakes.

Without further delay, he pressed his hands to the ground and sent his energies into the earth. He closed his eyes and pictured the cracks closing, the flames fizzling out... He couldn’t bring the fallen structures back up—much less resurrect the victims—but he could at least alleviate the damage and stop the bleeding.

It took him a good ten minutes, but he could feel the tremors weakening until, finally, they were completely gone.

He stood and looked around.

People had gathered around him, pointing fingers in his direction, muttering.

Great. Just what he needed.

He turned and stepped into his ship. To the eyes of the witnesses, it would have looked like he’d disappeared into thin air, since they could not perceive his vessel.

Back in the circular room, he ran instructions intended to pinpoint the seismic activity’s epicenter. He did not expect any of them to still be there, but it wouldn’t hurt to check.

It took him into a clearing in the middle of a forest. The forest itself had been hit pretty hard by the quakes, with half its trees fallen.

There was nothing else there to see aside from destruction.

He tapped into the news feed of the planet-wide TriVid system and watched footage from the other two disasters.

There had been six thousand dead and over a million wounded, spread across five towns, and two different continents.

He also saw reports of his intervention. Someone had even managed to film him just as he vanished.

A few accused him of causing the disaster, though most understood that, in reality, he had stopped the quake.

There were, of course, those who began to point out the obvious.

Was this man’s face not familiar?

Who did he look like?

And then, his name began to be whispered.

Xian.

Voices rose all over the planet, chanting his name, praising him...

Their god had returned.