Raphael and Michael

“I’ll give these humans one thing, they come up with some interesting hobbies.” The man speaking was a lanky figure standing just over six and a half feet tall, with gray-blond hair that fell to his shoulders. He was standing at the edge of a freeway rest stop with a grand view overlooking an expansive forest and rolling hills stretched out as far as the eye could see ahead. At his feet was a golf ball on a tee that had been pressed into the dirt, and he held a nine iron loosely in one hand. The club itself had several runes inscribed on it that were intended to make it much tougher to break.

Raphael was, after all, a rather strong man, even when he wasn’t really trying that hard. And when the point was to hit the ball as hard as he could… well, some magical assistance was required for both the club and the ball to ensure both didn’t simply poof into dust when he actually tried.

After making a show of licking his finger and testing the wind, the Seosten Archangel cracked his neck one way, then the other and rolled his shoulders. “You watching, Zad?”

About ten feet away, the English bulldog Raphael had liberated from a lab back when he’d arrived on Earth at the start of the truce lay on the concrete contentedly chewing on a large bone loaded with scraps of meat. Zad had very little interest in golf to begin with, and when food was involved that dropped to zero. He did, however, understand when his owner was talking, and looked up briefly to smile at Raphael around the bone, his little nub of a tail wagging. Then he went back to chewing/slobbering over the bone, completely content with things.

“You realize, of course, that the real Zadkiel would absolutely have adopted that animal the moment he saw it.” As he said that, a slim, bookish-looking man with gray hair along with a dark suit and tie stepped into view. He didn’t come out from behind anything, or emerge from any visible object. He was simply not visible one moment and there in the next as he stepped forward. Using one finger to gently adjust the wire-rim glasses adorning his face (which he absolutely did not need for any physical disability, but contained more technology and enchantments than most modern Seosten battle cruisers), the man raised an eyebrow at his old companion. “You would’ve had to beat him with a stick to even have a chance at being the first one to claim the dog.”

“Uh huh,” Raphael agreed without looking away from lining up his shot. “Why do you think I named the little guy after him?” He did turn his eyes to the dog in question, who had thus far completely ignored the new arrival in favor of his bone. “And some guard animal you are. What if Michael here had been a threat?” He pronounced the other man’s name in the old Seosten way, as ‘Mick-Aye-Ell.’ “I suppose you’d just expect me to fight him while you enjoy your treat, huh?”

Zad’s response was another brief tail wag for his master and more slobber for the bone.

With an audible snort, Raphael turned back to his shot. Finally satisfied with his aiming and testing the wind, the man drew back with the club, then let out a breath as he swung it forward and down. At the same time, he shouted, “Pull!” The club caught the ball perfectly, launching it up and out with enough speed and force to literally tear a hole through the first couple trees in its way before it found some open space to continue up, up, and away.

Rather than stand there doing nothing, however, Raphael continued to hold the golf club out by the handle. He tracked the ball’s motion carefully, adjusting his aim with the club for another second or two. With a grunt, he channeled just a microscopic fraction of his power through the club, using its length like a gun to send a bolt of energy shooting off between the trees, nearly disintegrating a squirrel that had chosen a dangerous moment to jump between branches.

Michael glanced that way, his glasses instantly zooming in through all the trees until he focused on the still-flying golf ball just before it was annihilated by that brief energy blast, leaving absolutely no trace of the thing’s existence.

“I think,” he murmured, “you might have slightly misunderstood how golf works.”

With a grin, Raphael finally turned to face him. “Nah, I just made some improvements based on their skeet shooting game. Like I said, they have some interesting hobbies. I just combined two of them to make a better one. You’d be surprised how often that makes things better. Like my jousting and basketball combination. Besides, I never liked chasing those tiny balls around.” Flipping the club around to grip the head like a cane so he could lean slightly on it, he regarded the other Seosten. “So, I take it you finally heard I was looking for you.”

Michael, in turn, moved to crouch next to the dog and scratched under the cheerful animal’s chin. “Technically I heard you were looking for me awhile ago. I just got curious enough to see what you wanted now that you’re back.” He smiled faintly at Zad’s reaction to the scritches before idly adding, “And how did that little trip to the Aulkeph mines work out? Everything back to normal so they can keep churning out supplies for the ongoing war effort? Can’t let the ship production schedule falter.”

Groaning a bit at those words, Raphael gave the other man a pleading look as he leaned even more on the club-cane. “Oh please don’t tell me you’ve become a pacifist. I came to find out why you took off in the first place, but if the answer is that simple and boring, I’m gonna regret every moment I spend thinking about it. I really don’t like wasting my time, or my mental energy. Or my physical energy, come to think of it.”

With a very slight smirk, Michael rose to his full height, though he still had to look up to meet Raphael’s gaze. “Is that really what you’ve been dwelling on for so long that you came to wander Earth twice hoping to find me? You just wanted to know why I left?”

“Well, that and Zad was homesick,” Raphael noted easily. “Or maybe he just wanted to come back and show off all his enhancements to the poor normal old Earth dogs.”

“Yeah, I noticed the cybernetics,” Michael murmured. “Radueriel’s work, I take it?”

Raphael gave a short nod. “He owed me a few favors. That little guy right there can run faster than any car these humans use, stand up under a full-on barrage of heavy gunfire, jump to the top of most of their buildings, and bite through steel. That’s why I had to get him a Pakkle bone, so he could actually chew on it for awhile. Should’ve seen his face when he kept turning the old ones into splinters every time he bit down.”

Seeming to realize that he’d become distracted bragging about his upgraded pet, the man pointedly cleared his throat. “Which brings us back to what you were saying about why you decided to abandon your people and come lay around your new vacation hole for so long.”

“A vacation hole, is that what you think this is?” Michael gave the other man a look before stepping up beside him to look out over the forest. He let out a soft sigh. “I do have several reasons for being here, some I doubt you’d understand. But it is not a vacation. Have you retained the memory of the battle of Yorteuphe, or stored it?” Seosten lifespans and memories being what they were, particularly for these two and their fellow Archangels, most used the ability to magically extract specific memories that weren’t consistently needed and store them away until that subject came up.

“I do hope that’s just some human sense of humor you’ve absorbed from spending so much time here,” Raphael shot back. “Of course I retained the memory. It was the last time we all fought together in the same battle.” A pause came, then, “All of us except Zadkiel.” The only member of their group to ever be lost, and it had to be the one who was arguably the best of them. Another reason to truly loathe this Tartarus universe.

Accepting that with a nod, Michael continued. “After that battle was over, I realized something. Even with all of us, even though we had won, it meant nothing. We were all working together, we had the most powerful ships in the fleet with the bravest troops and the best commanders the Seosten could field, and we used that to destroy one of the most dangerous Fomorian incursions of the entire war.

“And it meant nothing.”

With a growl, Raphael demanded, “What the void do you mean nothing? We won that battle, annihilated the biggest threat the Fomorians ever threw at us. If we hadn’t been there, if we hadn’t stopped them–”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m glad we pulled that off,” Michael granted easily. “I’m glad we saved the planet and all the people there, and that the Fomorians got their noses bloodied. But it didn’t actually accomplish anything of significance. We stopped them from getting further, but we didn’t move the needle in any real way when it came to finally stopping them for good. All of us together, the best fleet our people could deploy, and we just paused the advance. We stalled them. Our entire war, our entire existence has always been about stalling them, not striking back. That’s what we really need. Until we have a way to actually hurt them, we can never win. We can only delay losing.”

Raphael, of course, immediately noted, “That doesn’t explain why you’ve spent so much time here on this particular planet. What are you accomplishing, exactly?”

Lifting his chin, Michael offered a slight shrug. “You mean besides keeping an eye on the roughly half-dozen potentially universe ending threats they’ve got lying around this solar system? Well, to put it simply, I went on a bit of a quest. I found the Malsaic Stone.” He pronounced it Mal-Zye-Ick.

His words made Raphael do a double-take. “The Malsaic Stone, as in the rock that came back through time from the end of the universe holding every secret that’s ever existed? That’s a myth. A child’s myth.”

“The irony of one of our people saying that in such a dismissive way on this particular world is staggering,” Michael replied a bit dryly. “The Stone is very real. And, as the story goes, it will answer a single question posed to it, no matter what that question is. I asked how we could defeat the Fomorians for good. It told me to come here, to this world, and wait. That is what I’ve been doing. I’m following its instructions. As long as I am here, when the time comes, I’ll be in a position to help end the Fomorian threat forever.”

For a long moment, Raphael just stared at him. “You realize we could ask it more questions and get something more detailed than just ‘wait’ if you let the rest of us use that thing?”

“You obviously haven’t heard enough of the legends,” Michael informed him. “If you had, you’d know the stone vanishes to some other random spot in the universe as soon as it answers your question. It’s out there somewhere. Good luck finding it though. It was a bit of a bear and a hell of a lot of luck doing so the first time.”

Grunting a bit, Raphael reached down to scratch Zad behind the ears. “Meh. Guess we’ll stick to finding out things the old fashioned way. Tends to be more fun anyhow. You don’t get stuck wandering around a single planet for millennia.” That said, he flipped the golf club around and offered it to the other man. “You wanna give it a shot?”

Regarding him briefly, Michael finally shrugged before accepting the club. “Why not?

“I’m not going anywhere for awhile.”

************

Galazien

Aboard a pyramid-shaped spaceship known as Mahalestre (or at least as close as humans would have found themselves capable of pronouncing), which loosely translated as ‘River Which Cuts Through The Canyon,’ dozens of figures ran back and forth through the hallways while alarms blared loudly. They were all members of the Ikaun species, reptilian humanoids who stood an average of seven feet tall, with scales that varied between blue, purple, and orange in random patterns across their bodies. Their heads were somewhat cylindrical in shape, with eyes spaced evenly one inch apart in a full circle leading all the way around in a line that was roughly three inches from the top. Their mouths were on top of their heads. Those mouths were all open and moving now, as orders and responses were shouted back and forth over the sound of the alarms.

Through all of that, another, very different figure strode. He was taller than the Ikaun by almost three feet, his head nearly scraping the ceiling despite his hunched posture. While they were reptilian in nature, he was avian, with burgundy red feathers across his main body, which quickly faded to gleaming white across the top of his head, his fingers, and the tips of his four separate wings. Like the Ikaun, he could see in every direction, though he only possessed three eyes. Two were against the side of his head and could look all the way around, while the third was in the center of his head facing forward.

Millions of years ago, he had been a very average, even unimpressive example of the Kelensian people. Now… now the being known as Galazien was the only member of his species in existence. And they were far from the only civilization he had watched go extinct.

Once, his name had been Zien, ‘Gala’ the word his people had for coward. Coward Zien his own people had called him. The coward who had tried and failed to stop the stranger who came to their world claiming he could save it from the universe-destroying monsters. He’d actually intended to make himself completely immortal. In their struggle, Zien had actually gained that… gift. The same process had killed every form of life on his entire world aside from the monster itself. Though even it had been driven out of the universe, dragging its fellow three abominations with it.

That very fact was what led Galazien to rush through these hallways, fighting against the stream of Ikaun who were trying to get to their battle stations. He had to reach the bridge and speak to the captain.

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Finally, after using two of his wings to forcefully push a couple crew members out of his way when they failed to acknowledge him, Galazien stepped right through the doorway to the command center of the ship, having to duck to make it in. The bridge was arranged in a circle, with the main viewing globe in the center and all the officers surrounding it.

“Captain–” Galazien started, in their own language, which amounted to many clicks and snarls that would have sounded intimidating to anyone who wasn’t familiar with these people.

“Off my bridge!” That was Captain Roder, who sounded intimidating even to those who were very familiar with these people. “No passengers allowed, I don’t care how much you’re paying!”

Despite that, even as a couple of the officers moved to escort him clear, Galazien pushed on. “Captain, we need to leave now. We need to move out of this space, immediately. You must take this ship away from here, as far and as quickly as possible.”

Roder glared at him. “Perhaps it’s escaped your notice, whatever-your-name-was, but there is a battle happening only one short jump from here. We’ll be suiting up for the fight, charging weapons, and then going in. Your destination can wait.”

“My destination, at the moment, is anywhere but here,” Galazien insisted. “If you don’t accelerate right now and take me as far away from here as you possibly can, as quickly as you can, this ship will be destroyed. Everyone on it will die. And then so will everyone in this solar system, then this cluster, then the galaxy itself.”

Silence followed his pronouncement, before the captain slowly rose from his seat. “Lieutenant, what do we say to that sort of threat?”

Immediately, the Ikaun beside him raised a pistol, pointing it that way before pulling the trigger. No further warnings, no compromises. He shot Galazien through the center of his head with a quick, deadly laser blast.

Well, deadly for most. It left not the slightest mark on its current target, making every officer on the bridge gasp.

Galazien, for his part, didn’t even really acknowledge the attempted murder. Instead, he gave a soft sigh before walking further onto the bridge. “I tried to do this your way, but it’s too important. Computer, override Misthra Pak Trenmu Qer.”

The captain started to demand to know what he thought he was doing, before being interrupted by the computer audibly acknowledging the code and transferring control of the ship to him. That prompted a flurry of motion and shouting as the crew attempted to regain authority, including several more useless shots in his direction.

“How in the frozen wastes did you do that?!” Roder bellowed, trembling in rage.

In response, Galazin simply informed him, “When you’ve lived as long as I have, you pick up a few tricks. Computer, choose a random safe course away from the battle and this location, then cycle up the drive and send us that way immediately. Disable routine safety checks and jump as soon as you have enough power. Override all manufacturer precautions, code Neev Bahkt Tren Galeg Po.”

To the furious captain, he added, “Believe it or not, this is for your own good. And the good of everyone who lives in this universe.”

Opening and shutting his mouth a few times like a gaping fish, Roder finally found his voice with a near-deafening, “What are you babbling about?!”

Before Galazien could answer, the sensor operator blurted a terrified, “Ca-Captain!” He was pointing at the large viewing globe in the middle of the room.

Everyone’s eyes turned that way. The globe showed a view outside the ship, at what should have been empty space. But it wasn’t empty anymore. Not entirely anyway. A single tentacle, covered in spikes, seemed to be extending out of some sort of rip in space itself. That single tentacle was fifty feet wide and stretched several hundred feet, which didn’t seem to be its full extension. The spikes on it were each ten feet long and several feet at the base. That tentacle seemed to grope and swing around, as though grasping for something… or someone.

In that instant, just as the tentacle appeared to reach for them, the ship finished powering up its jump drive and immediately leapt out of there. The tentacle was left behind.

For several long moments, silence filled the bridge. Even the alarms had shut off, as though they were intimidated by the sight as well. Finally, the captain spoke up, but it was in a voice that was much more subdued. “What… was that…?”

“Pray you never have to see its full form,” Galazien replied. “I will tell you that, with my departure from that area, the portal should close, cutting that thing and its brethren off once more. They are linked to me. If I stay in the same area for too long, it begins to open holes to where they are imprisoned, and they try to come through. Wait even longer and the portals will grow large enough to allow them entry. I never know exactly how long I can stay in any area. Sometimes years can pass, sometimes even decades before I get that feeling, the one that tells me they’re coming. Other times I have to keep moving constantly for weeks without stopping for a moment. I change universes, travel from one end of reality to another. As long as I move, they remain trapped there.”

“If they’re linked to you, shouldn’t you kill yourself so they never escape?” one of the crew demanded.

Galazien met his gaze. “Do you think I haven’t tried that? Do you think what happened when your people tried to shoot me just then was a choice on my part? I have lived millions of years. I have tried to die more times than you have lived days. I put myself into a star and the only thing it accomplished was to ensure my departure from that area was delayed enough for those things to destroy an entire planet as they attempted to claw their way out of their prison. I am eternal. And if I ever stop moving, the only thing my immortality will afford me is a front row seat as everyone else dies.”

********

Malcolm and Zeke

As a portal opened on one of the Fusion School’s landing rooms, two figures emerged. One was Avalon Sinclair, striding confidently toward the door without sparing so much as a glance over her shoulder to ensure her companion had made it. That companion, Malcolm Harkess, followed after getting his bearings. The young man, who had grown a couple inches over the past year to put him over six feet, was rather broad-shouldered and square-jawed. He looked like a stereotypical football jock from a high school or college movie. Or, perhaps more accurately, like someone who had once been a football star before going into the military. That came from the way his eyes rapidly scanned for threats, or simply how he carried himself, as someone ready to jump into real life and death battles at any moment.

Before they left the landing room, Malcolm spoke up. “You know what the worst part of you not being at Crossroads was?”

There was a brief pause before Avalon spoke in a flat voice. “Be very careful about the next words out of your mouth, because if you’re trying to flirt–”

“Being the best fighter in our grade,” he interrupted. “Not having anyone to aspire to, no one to work my ass off to try to match. Couldn’t even spar with the juniors or seniors, not with so many of them gone so much. Being the best is boring.”

“I was wrong,” Avalon muttered under her breath, “you weren’t flirting, you were just bragging. Equally annoying.” She led him out of the room and through the corridor.

Malcolm, for his part, shook his head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it in a bragging way. Believe that or not, guess it doesn’t matter. I just meant I do my best when there’s someone around who’s better than me, so I have a goal. It’s just the way I work. Having you around last year, it made me better, made me work harder. I missed that sort of motivation. That’s all.”

Avalon was silent for a minute as she led him onward, stopping now and then to talk to people in short two or three word sentences. Finally, she replied, “I’ll take that in the spirit it was meant. But for the record, there’s a lot more going on in this world than just what sort of motivation you have for your exercises. Maybe you didn’t notice.”

“I noticed,” Malcolm informed her simply. “I would have come with you that night–all of you I mean. But… but I had to stay. There was a reason.”

Avalon squinted at him, looking like she wanted to say something to that. Instead, she turned and gestured to a door that had just swung open. “He’s through here. You can go in and see him. The guard’ll let you through.”

Facing the door, Malcolm took a breath before stepping forward. As promised, there was a single guard in the next room, which was furnished with little more than a desk, television, and chair. The guard wasn’t human, immediately setting off Malcolm’s Stranger-Sense. Not that he really needed it, considering the rough orange skin, loose tentacle-like hair waving around, and six arms. Still, Malcolm did his best to curtail his immediate reaction. Avalon probably wouldn’t take it very well if he attacked the first non-human in sight, and he had no doubt she was watching from behind to see what he did.

The alien guard gave him a brief look up and down before making a jerking motion with his thumb toward the next door on the far side of the desk. “Go on through.”

Of course Malcolm had already known that Zeke wasn’t being kept in an actual prison cell. There was no way the boy’s mother would have allowed that, even if Malcolm wasn’t sure exactly what her relationship with these rebels was like. She clearly allowed them to keep her son, so he had to be staying somewhere comfortable. Plus, well, he just didn’t think these people were the types to throw him in some cold cell and lose the key.

Even then, he was still rather surprised by just how spacious this place was as he stepped through that door. It was like an expensive hotel suite, complete with a main room with a king-sized bed, wall-mounted television, computer at a desk, a kitchenette, and a bathroom.

Zeke himself was in one corner of the main room, using some free weights that had obviously been enhanced to weigh far more than their small size should have made possible. His gaze was already snapping around as he curled one of the weights with a deceptively-skinny arm, mouth open to snap, “I told you I’m not in the mood t–” He stopped short then, eyes widening as his arm dropped with the weight to hang loosely at his side. For a moment, the two boys just stared at one another, before Zeke heaved the weight over onto its rack and strode that way. In the process, he plucked his glasses off the table and put them back on, as though needing that to ensure that he was really seeing what was in front of him. He adjusted the glasses, stopping in front of Malcolm to squint for a second before finally speaking in a suspicious tone. “You told me about your favorite character in a ridiculous Bystander cartoon about colorful gem–”

“Connie,” Malcolm interrupted with a visible smirk. “She has a cool sword.”

Looking like he was genuinely surprised the boy in front of might actually not be a trick, Zeke tried one more. “You had a bicycle that you named–”

“Arcee,” Malcolm again interrupted. “From Transformers. I told you about that.”

Remaining silent for a long moment, Zeke stared that way. Finally, he took a step forward to tightly embrace his friend. After spending weeks here, and still reeling from the revelation that his own mother was allowing the rebels to keep him, seeing someone he trusted, someone he had spent the previous year and a half growing to trust more than almost anyone he ever had.

Malcolm returned the hug tightly. He’d missed Zeke too, even if the boy could be a completely hard-headed pain in the ass who said the wrong thing more than not. There was more to Zeke that a lot of people didn’t get to see, just because he tended to make himself look and sound like such a complete cock so often.

Shaking his head once they stepped apart, both slightly red-faced, Zeke demanded, “What’re you doing here? Did you get stupid and let yourself get caught?”

“Not exactly,” Malcolm admitted with a grimace. “Look man…”

“Oh fuck, don’t you fucking tell me you believe in this shit,” Zeke snapped while staring that way. “First my mom goes all on board thinking they can protect me from whatever those fucking ghost bastards are, then… then…. what’s wrong with you?”

“Wrong with me?” Malcolm shook his head before gesturing. “Come on, dude, let’s sit down and talk. You got anything to eat around here?”

“Something called pizza bagels in the freezer,” Zeke replied, still sounding tense but at least willing to eat and chat. “You had those before? I was… uh… skeptical, but they’re pretty good.”

“Oh, we can work with that,” Malcolm agreed with a grin before moving to get those ready. Soon, the two of them had a large plate full of food between them as they sat on the edge of the bed. Throughout their lunch, neither said anything about the serious subject that loomed over them. Instead, Malcolm talked about things back at Crossroads, as much inconsequential gossip as they could stand.

Finally, once they were full, Zeke gave his friend a long look. “So, you gonna say it or what?”

Malcolm, for his part, rose from the bed and took the plate over to the sink. He was quiet at first, until the plate had been washed off. Then he turned back that way. “Do you want them to be wrong?”

“What?” Zeke was taken aback.

“It’s a pretty simple question, dude,” Malcolm replied easily. “Forget everything else and think about it right from square one. Would you rather live in a universe where everyone who isn’t human is psychotic, evil, and wants to kill us? Or would you rather live in a universe where there’s a chance we can make friends with others? Ignore everything you consider a fact, everything else you’ve heard. Right back to the most basic fucking shit. One simple question. Do you want them to be wrong?”

For almost thirty seconds, Zeke was completely silent. He didn’t look at his friend. He just stared at the blank television, then at the floor. Finally, he took a deep breath and answered honestly. “I don’t know.”

“Well you know what?” Malcolm moved to sit in the chair, setting his feet up on the bed.

“I think we can work with that.”

************

The Roundabout – Modern Day

“It’s the day, it’s the day, it’s the day!” With those rapidly-chanted words, a skinny teenage boy with dark skin and a mop of brown hair that stuck out in every direction went running along the wall of ‘bones’ surrounding the Roundabout School For Necromancy. It still looked more like a town than a single school, of course, with dozens of buildings atop the metallic ‘ground.’ And the wall he was running atop still wasn’t actually made of bones, but metal made to look that way. He bounded from skull-shape to femur-shape to a clenched bone fist that stuck up out of the main wall structure.

Behind him came a girl perhaps two years younger than his own fifteen. She looked near enough to him in appearance that their relation was apparent at a glance. Like her brother, she wore loose black drawstring pants, good boots, and a white shirt. Hers was a turtleneck while his was a simple short sleeved tee. Both also wore windbreakers, though different colors. The boy’s was orange, while hers was dark red.

“Wait for me, Daran!” It took the girl just a bit longer than her brother to get over the skeletal fist, scrambling before starting to slide off one side. As soon as she did, however, the girl closed her eyes and focused. She had just started to go flailing off the wall when a tall male humanoid ghost in a chauffeur’s costume appeared there and caught her. “Careful, Nova,” he cautioned while righting the girl once more. “You wouldn’t want to get hurt today of all days.”

Daran, who had stopped to look back that way as soon as he realized what was happening, reached out to take his sister’s hand. “Yeah, Nove, you really wanna spend today in the infirmary?”

His own personal ghost, a hulking bruiser of a troll, loomed up behind him while speaking in a very soft, tender tone. “Aww, we wouldn’t let anything happen to ya, Nova. Don’t worry none. Today’s a special day, everyone’s excited. You see?” With that, the enormous troll ghost turned to point off in the distance, between several of the school buildings where they could see enormous tables laden with food being set up by a mixture of living students and staff as well as their assortment of ghosts. Many students here at the Roundabout had several ghosts and even zombies to their name, though the rules said you weren’t allowed to keep a ghost who wanted to leave. Necromancy was about creating partnerships, not slavery.

Nova and Daran had only been officially attending for about six months, after learning that they had inherited Necromantic power from a long-lost uncle. But they had been hearing the legend of the school’s founder since they were very young. Well–to be fair, there was a mix of legend and fact, much of which was impossible to sort through unless you happened to catch Margrave Laein in the right mood. Not necessarily just a good mood, because Margrave Laein in a good mood happened to enjoy making up stories. And definitely not a bad one. She needed to be in a truth-telling mood.

The school’s Attending Headmistress was often hard to predict.

Both teenagers ran a bit more along the wall until they reached a spot just behind the main school building. To the right, they could see the stage where the Margrave was about to start talking. To the left, the tables of food were still being set up. And when the siblings tilted their heads to look straight up, they could see glowing holographic numbers counting down the time. Right now, there were seventeen minutes and forty-three seconds before Felicity Chambers would officially be sent back in time, beginning the journey that would lead to the creation of this very school.

In seventeen minutes and… thirty-two seconds now, Felicity would be sent back.

And then it would be time for the Roundabout to really get busy preparing for the return of the woman herself, her Revenant companion, and their true secret weapon.

The Fomorian Child.