Landon shielded his eyes with his arm as white light exploded from the Dreadnaught’s mouth. When the blinding brightness finally faded, Rebecca and all of the monsters were gone. An old tree with gnarled roots and knotted branches stood where the Dreadnaught once towered.

Time was flowing normally again. Children laughed at a nearby bouncy house. The band on stage jammed on. No one batted an eye at the ancient-looking tree, growing up in such an odd position between the bleachers and playfield.

Steph had a confused look on her face. “I can’t remember why we’re here,” she said.

Clark was standing by her side, disguised as an older white man now.

Channie looked at Steph and then back at the massive tree. “Your nut sprouted,” she said, pointing up in dismay.

Steph squinted questioningly.

A tug at the back of Landon’s knee brought his attention to Mr. Gray, suddenly by his side. “Everyone who was frozen when the Gobu nut sprouted has memories of it always being there,” he explained with a twinkle in his eye.

“Where’s Rebecca?” asked Channie.

Mr. Gray’s face became more stoic. “She was too close,” he said. “Josie and Lewis were too near as well. Every entity that wasn’t frozen in time has been spirited away, whisked across space and time. They have their own journeys to attend to—as do we!” Mr. Gray rummaged through Landon’s backpack and retrieved the entrance bracelets for the festival. He passed them out to Clark and the girls. “You’ll be safe here, today. All the baddies are scattered.”

“So we won?” asked Channie. “The Dreadnaught is gone?”

“Yes, yes,” said Mr. Gray. “I’ve just said that, haven’t I? Now won’t you three go enjoy the festivities, monster-free, while I take Landon to go tie up some loose ends?”

Steph still looked confused, but Channie took the dismissal in stride. They stuck with Clark as he wandered off towards the cornhole toss area.

Mr. Gray led Landon off behind a row of booths. The Parca gestured broadly towards the festival-goers. “They’ll never know all you’ve done for them,” he said. “So much goes unseen. It feels bad at times, being unnoticed, but it’s also the best-est of defenses!”

Landon knew that the Parcae as a species were invisible to humans unless they chose to reveal themselves. The festival-goers walked right past Mr. Gray without seeing or hearing a thing. “So, what are we doing?” Landon asked the little imp.

“Loose ends—I already said that as well,” said Mr. Gray as he felt at the breeze with his fingertips. He could see things that Landon could not; swirling energies stretching between worlds like strands of gooey cheese.

Mr. Gray tugged at one of the invisible strands and the light deadened across a plane, forming the square outline of a portal to the Beyond. “Don’t worry, I’ll bring you back here when we are done, and you can spend the rest of the summer getting to know your new friends.”

Landon smiled to himself. Steph and Channie certainly weren’t hard to look at by any means. He reveled at the chance to get to know them better under less stressful circumstances.

Mr. Gray disappeared into the portal. Landon breathed out as he stepped through the threshold and felt the world slip away. The conduit was like a tunnel. Energy swirled around him, disorienting his senses as he forged forward. It wasn’t until he emerged on the other side that he allowed himself to breathe in again. The air was hot here. He was in the space between places. The Beyond was a dark realm, at least to his human eyes. To the Parcae, with their superior bandwidth, the air was aglow with a torrent of fire—all the twisting energies of the multi-verse.

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Mr. Gray hopped along in front of Landon at the base of a hillside. The ground was covered in loose, flat stones, chipped away like plates from a larger geological source. There was no plant-life to be found by the limited glow of the swirling energies high above. Countless colors twisted together in the sky, forming a shimmering aura.

Mr. Gray read the air once more with his fingertips, feeling for their re-entry point. He grumbled to himself as he looked up the hillside. “Be quick,” he said, “the Agares were forced from Earth, but they still linger here.”

Landon followed Mr. Gray as best as he could as the tiny Parca scampered up the loose stones. Several times Mr. Gray had to stop and wait as Landon slipped on the shards. Every little stumble sent expanding landslides tumbling downhill beneath him.

Mr. Gray’s eyes flashed his way. It was clear what he thought of Landon’s lack of dexterity. As they climbed higher, Landon noticed a red haze building along the horizon above them. The hot air shifted direction, and with it, smoke began to pour down the hillside. Nothing could have prepared Landon for what he saw when he reached the crest of the ridge.

They stood upon the edge of a smoldering crater at least a mile wide, and half a mile deep. Landon could only guess at its scale, as the fumes rising up from the hole distorted the atmosphere and blocked out his view of the other side. “What happened here…?” he asked, in awe of the view.

Mr. Gray stared into the noxious abyss silently for a moment before responding. “The Agares have powerful weapons. This was once a Parcae city. Perhaps some survived. Our tunnels run deep.”

Landon paused with Mr. Gray for a moment to pay their respects above the flames. It was Mr. Gray who broke the silence.

“I can almost reach it from here,” he said, eying something in the sky that Landon could not see. “Could you give me a lift?”

Landon grabbed ahold of the Parca by the waist of his patchwork jacket and lifted him into the air. He looked like a dapper toddler in his arms. Mr. Gray reached out and grabbed at the air. A portal materialized at his fingertips. The opening stretched into a tall rectangle as Landon placed the little imp back on the ground.

“Hold your breath or breathe out as you go through,” said Mr. Gray. “I forgot to say that last time, so it’s a good thing you happened to do so naturally—otherwise you would have been sick.”

“The journal warned me,” said Landon.

“That’s good,” said Mr. Gray without any inflection in his voice. He looked tired. His eyes were distant.

Landon couldn’t fault him. He couldn’t imagine how many Parcae had died in the Agares attack. “I have a maple bar in my backpack,” he said. The journal had also suggested he pack the doughnut.

Mr. Gray extended his hands out as Landon dangled the grocery store pastry in front of him. He snatched it out of the air and consumed it quickly. When he was finished, he went on to lick the maple frosting off his fingertips, so as not to miss out on a single calorie. He gave Landon a nod before stepping into the Portal.

Landon took one last look at the crater before following him in.

The Agares are truly terrible….

He breathed out as he crossed the threshold. The tunnel of energy whipped around him as he forged forward. He knew they would emerge at a different time and place than where they’d left, but it was still jarring to see the night sky when it had just been mid-afternoon before. The edges of their exit portal exploded outwards, sounding in a loud pop like a car backfiring. Landon glanced around. They were in a suburban cul-de-sac. The street was dark and empty.

“You gunna tell me why we’re here?” Landon asked.

Mr. Gray raised his thin arm and pointed across the street towards a dark house. “The man who sleeps there is known as The Magnificent Harold. He has been selected as the spectacle for the Taste of Edmonds. If he lives, there will be no trapeze bar for Rebecca to use to defeat the Dreadnaught. He is the worst man in your universe right now, because his thread stands in the way of success.”

“What are you saying?” asked Landon, worry settling in like a punch in the stomach.

“Harold must die. And you’re going to kill him!”

Landon sure wasn’t expecting to need to become a murderer today! I don’t mean to sound glib. I’m only excited because of how necessary this experience will be for his psyche. Landon needs to be merciless in saving the whole of humanity. He can’t be letting one little magic-shop magician stand in his way if he is going to succeed—not when it comes to the fate of the universe. I feel empathy, but I can’t help this. Sometimes sacrifices are required for the good of the whole. I’m sure Harold wouldn’t agree, but such is life.

Getting in the grit for the sake of humanity,

-Mr. Gray