Enough evidence had been found to clear her name.

Lucaan Labs had denied any knowledge of the murders. Trent Little had been commissioned to retrieve the technology, but the contract he had signed was very clear that this was to be done in legal ways. This could have involved a forced medical—or magical—intervention, but most certainly not assassination.

Despite having finally resolved the mystery of her parents’ death, Susan felt miserable.

The cost for those answers seemed much higher than she’d have been willing to pay.

Duncan, her beloved uncle Duncan, was gone.

And now she was left all alone in the universe.

Safe for one annoying cousin.

Alicia had shown up at the hospital, pretending to be shaken by everything she had gone through. And how was she doing? Was everything okay?

No, everything was not okay.

But she had endured it.

Now at least her name was cleared.

They had let her go back home after stitching up the knife wound on her arm.

She sat on her couch, staring blankly at the news on the TriVid screen.

Nothing made much sense anymore.

The last five years of her life had been entirely focused on finding the murderer. Now that it was done, what purpose did she have left?

Her uncle had been right all along.

Of course he had been.

She had never doubted it. She just hadn’t wanted to hear it.

Now, though, she’d have given anything to hear his voice again.

The news flashing on the screen started to cover her case. But she did not want to watch that. She already knew all she needed to know. Too much, in fact. It made her sick just to think about it.

She zapped through different programs and suddenly froze, staring at the screen.

They were running a commercial about a multi-world corporation specialized in alien technology.

The Moonrise Conglomerate.

A knot formed in her stomach.

She jumped off the couch and ran into her father’s office. Pulled up the documents she’d dug up on Lucaan Labs.

There it was.

The company was a subcontractor to several bigger businesses, including Moonrise Initiative. Which was the vuulthuric branch of the Moonrise Conglomerate.

What were those last words her uncle had said?

The truth lies at moonrise.

She had thought it was just something out of one of his poems, but now she wondered... had he been referring to this company?

This seemed significant, though she didn’t understand how.

The murderer was identified and now dead. It was all over.

Was it, though?

Trent Little may have done the killing, but why had he gone to such an extreme? Why not stick to the terms of his contract? Had someone set him out to murder her parents? And if so, who and why?

The truth lies at Moonrise.

She sat at her father’s desk and brought up all the information she could about the corporation.

A few hours later, she called up her travel agent.

“I’d like to book a ticket for Qojja, please.”

***

He had spent the entire day darting from one part of the world to another. The three runaways kept him busy.

And though he still strived to save people, he had grown hopeless.

He wondered what was the point of any of this... why bother stopping these disasters if, in the end, he could not save the world from destruction?

It would not be impossible for him to find them and capture them, but then what? He couldn’t hold them for long. Without the mask, he’d have no way to keep them asleep, as he’d had for the past five millennia.

Another alarm blared and he flew his ship into the heart of a hurricane.

As he tamed the winds and silenced the roar of the sea, he wondered if he could imprison the renegades in the ship long enough to take them off the planet.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Then what?

Where would they go?

As soon as they’d be free, they’d just start again.

If not on Qojja, somewhere else.

They’d never stop.

For the first time in eons, he wished there was a way he could actually kill them.

But a Rissl could not kill another Rissl.

It was deeply rooted within their genes.

He had come to accept this as both a blessing and a curse.

Another option would be to take them home.

They could be judged, there. And sentenced to life.

But that came with its own set of problems.

With a resigned sigh, he finished his work on the hurricane and headed back to Joqqal.

As his ship darted through the sky, he thought of Paul.

And Thyria.

It was troubling.

And yet impossible.

How could Paul be his son?

And yet, the man had undeniable power.

He wondered if this could not be of use to him, in some way.

It would be easier to capture the runaways with Paul’s help, certainly, but it would not replace the mask.

The main issue would remain.

His thoughts kept drifting back to Thyria.

Why would she have lied to Paul?

It was in her nature, of course.

She obviously wanted to hurt him.

He had tried to help her, to make her a better person.

It had worked, too.

For a little while.

But then, she had resented what she had become.

She’d blamed him for it.

The love she had once felt for him had turned into hatred.

Though part of her still lusted for him.

That much was obvious from how she had behaved at their last meeting.

Was this why she had tried to turn Paul against him?

The alarm blared again and he changed course to stop an erupting volcano from destroying a dozen villages.

***

He went to her place, but she wasn’t there. He considered waiting but didn’t feel he’d have the patience, so he trudged his way back under heavy rain and howling winds.

What would he have told her anyway?

Going there had been more of an impulse, rather than a thought-out action.

Besides, how could Paul now trust any answer she’d give him?

She was, after all, the goddess of lust, contempt, and spite. Or at least, that’s what her followers believed. He still wasn’t sure about the goddess part.

One thing he would have liked her to clarify was how Xian could be his father if they’d never slept together? And why would she lie to him about it? Just to hurt Xian? Didn’t she care how he felt? Obviously not.

His father was another intriguing piece of the puzzle.

He didn’t know much about him either, but he at least felt more genuine and less fickle than his mother.

There was no doubt in his mind, he realized. Both of them were his parents. Some way or another, it had to be the case. It was the only explanation which made any sense, the only one which could explain his life, his powers—not to mention his connection to the mask...

His heart ached as he remembered the energies that had coursed through him when he had touched the ancient artifact. So much power, now all gone. Just like that, in the blink of an eye.

Xian had told him how it had happened, how the renegades would now be free to roam and destroy.

Dark days lay ahead.

He had wondered then—as he did now—whether he would be able to help his father in any way.

The thought had remained unvoiced.

Had he found Xian intimidating? Perhaps.

But part of him felt insecure. He knew he had power, but it seemed so insignificant compared to the Rissl.

What could one do against gods?

He grimaced at the thought.

Why would he think something like that?

He had never believed in gods, his entire life... why would it change now?

It was just another form of power.

Of science.

His father had been clear about it.

Though he wasn’t sure he fully understood it quite yet.

Aside from a spaceship, he never saw Xian using instruments or devices of any kind. He seemed to manipulate the elements directly, much like he himself would let the energies flow around him and then redirect them in whatever way he required to obtain the desired effect. It felt more like magic.

Although he’d always said his magic was a form of science. It was about understanding the world around you, the way every element in nature is connected, and using that knowledge to alter things... little things or bigger ones.

It did feel quite similar to what his father did.

Which made sense, if he inherited those powers from him.

Then why wouldn’t he be able to help?

There were three runaways.

So wouldn’t two be more effective against them?

As he walked back into his hotel room, he resolved to talk to Xian about it.

***

When she came home, she found him waiting on the balcony.

“How did you find me?” she asked, annoyed.

“Paul,” said Xian.

She snorted. “Figures. So I’m guessing this is about him?”

“Is it true, then?”

“That he’s your son? Isn’t it obvious by now?”

“How is it possible? We never—”

She sneered. “You rejected me often enough, that’s for sure.”

Thyria stepped out of her dress, as if he wasn’t there, though this time she did not try to seduce him. Why bother? She knew he would just treat her like trash again, just like he had all those other times.

Except once.

She savored the thought as she changed into a different dress. As she did so, she shifted little things about her. The smoothness of her skin, the girth of her arms, the length and thickness of her now brown hair...

“It was difficult to accept, you know,” she said softly as she walked back into the room and headed into the kitchen. “Your utter lack of interest. Disgust, even.”

“I never—”

“Of course, you didn’t. It stung all the same. You were always so high above me, so haughty, with a higher purpose, always trying to do good in the world... As if that could change anything. You think the humans care about you or the things you do for them? They are ungrateful little worms. Believe me, I’ve experienced it first hand.”

She poured wine into two glasses as the color of her eyes shifted from brown to blue. The shape of her fingers altered slightly. Her global height was reduced.

“You’ve always had a tendency to overreact,” he remarked.

“Have I?”

He left the balcony. As he approached her, he frowned. Paused. Looked her up and down. Opened his mouth. Closed it. Frowned again.

She smiled as she handed him one of the glasses. Her lips became fuller, her brows thinner.

“I know you well, Xian. Better than you might think. Well enough that I know exactly what attracts you in a woman. It obviously was not me. So I observed you. And I learned.”

She sat down and crossed her legs in a way she knew would feel quite familiar to him. Just like so many other little things about her would now feel so familiar to him.

“What—”

“You know so much about us, but do you know everything? Of course you don’t. You’re not a god! Not any more than any of us are, despite the delusions of some of my kin. So you couldn’t possibly know everything.”

The features of her face began to shift. She had saved the best part for last.

She grinned at Xian as he gaped at her in disbelief.

“Sally!”

“When I understood you would never love me, that you only saw in me a wounded animal you could save, I decided to become the woman you would want, the woman you could love...

“I found her dead body in a dark alley—one of my kin had drunk her to death. She looked exactly like the kind of woman you would fall for. So I took her appearance, her identity, her life... and I wrapped you around my finger. As soon as I became pregnant, and before you found out about it, I slipped away and arranged for Sally’s body to be found. The police work for my people, so they did as I bid them, and altered the date of death.

“It made me deliciously happy knowing I’d tricked you this way—and that you’d never know about your son. I thought it’d be enough, but it wasn’t. My victory had a bitter taste. I soon realized it would have been more satisfying had you known what I’d done to you...”

She paused, looked up at his shocked expression, and smiled.

“I was right,” she added as she sipped from her drink. “Now I feel like it all was worth it.”