“Hello, Mister Galloway!” chimed a happy, feminine voice.

The old librarian looked up from his reception computer. Before him stood a fourteen year old girl with long, strawberry blonde hair wearing a loose fitting yellow sundress for the hot summer weather outside.

“Stella Barber! Nice to see you again!” the old man exclaimed excitedly. He had not had much visitors in the library ever since smartphones were popularized. To the girl's side was a gloomy redhead in a white shirt and black jeans ensemble. “And the elusive Timothy Kleve! What a treat!”

From behind the girl, a third teen stepped out. With hair of snow white and skin of dark, he wore a cooling white singlet and pair of shorts.

Galloway clapped his hands together in surprise. “And Clay Barber! Wow! Everyone is here. Such a rare honour.”

Clay smiled and waved sheepishly. “Hello, Mister Galloway. We've got summer homework.”

“Oh, and what kind of fascinating homework would bring you to a library?” The man replied with a sarcastic joke of a tone.

Seemingly having not picked up the tune, Stella happily answered, “We were asked to write a short story about an alternate universe for English Literature Class. Do you have any nice fantasy books we can take as reference?”

Galloway chuckled back. Turning to his computer, he quickly searched through the database of books. “You three are really taking this seriously.”

Simultaneously, Tim and Clay replied, “I'm not.”

The old man smiled. “Well, it's good to see all three of you together again.” He printed out the search result and handed them the paper of the selection of books. “Let me know once you're done. We can go for some ice-cream later, my treat.”

Stella took the paper off his hands, cheerfully replying, “Thanks, Mister Galloway, for everything!”

The trio walked off into the library, chattering about their assignment, the morale for defying the normal gloominess of homework kept high by Stella's constant intractable spirit.

Once they were out of earshot, Galloway mumbled to himself, “It's the least I could do.” His lips sloped into a frown.

***

The sound of explosions and gunfire continued to ring in his ears. Panting, sweating, eyes staring up at the star littered sky, The Watcher waited patiently for the all too familiar beat of his heart to calm. Light flickered against the edges of his nose and he turned his head to see the campfire still going strong. It was his last camp site before reaching the town of Muscoh where Stella Barber resided, the child whose name and apparent knowledge was shared with a similar person from his world.

A noise drew his attention and he turned to the sound of shuffling. Though he was alone when he went to sleep, that was no longer the case. Sitting beside the flame was a boy no older than ten, with a buzzcut hair of snow white and dark ebony skin that blended with the night. He poked at the fire with a stick. A country boy wearing rural white singlet and patched brown pants, he had the tired eyes of an old man that screamed anachronism from the rest of his body.

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The boy said, “It's the dreams, isn't it? Don't worry, I used to think they were freaky too. But I got used to it.” He readjusted his seating, bringing a knee up to his chin to hug. He started explaining, “It's the Peninsula. That's the name for the outer shell of the universe. On Earth, we know that as the dream world. Here, it's not a stable place so we can only dream of things we know. Our past, mostly.”

Slowly, The Watcher sat up from the cold, hard ground. Looking around, there was no one else he could see within the reach of the light. To the east, faint sound of waves came from the far off shoreline, sea breeze carrying the faint waft of the ocean. The wispy light of the town of Muscoh was a day of riding away. His horse, a brown steed, was lying asleep on the ground not far from them. Tied to the lone tree they were under was the newcomer's black and white.

He turned back to the kid, “It's you.”

“It's me,” the boy replied, his tone uncaring and stoic.

“Clay Barber.”

“That's my name.” The boy tossed the stick into the fire. “Nice to see you too, Mister Galloway.”

“Mister Galloway...” The Watcher mused. “It's been a while since anyone called me that.”

“That's right. Do you prefer 'Watcher' now?”

“A little. It sounds cool. A tiny bit like a superhero.” The Watcher stared the boy up and down, making sure his mind was not playing tricks on him as it often did, confirming the boy was indeed there and not just a remnant from his dream. “How did you find me?”

Clay pointed to the town of Muscoh. “Tim had a vision of you. He was singing, “The librarian is coming to town.”.When I saw the campfire, I had guessed it might be you.”

The Watcher sized up the child. He had many questions he wanted to ask, but found it hard to prioritize them in a way that would make sense. Clay Barber was a teenager he knew back in his universe. The teen had given up his life to save the world, taking up the mantle of a death god in return for the power to protect the universe. Even though The Watcher knew the Barbers were alive from Adelle's account, seeing the living face of one who was once dead was still a new and stunning experience. The dead don't come back. That was the rule of life.

He went with his gut on the question. “You look younger.”

“That's what happens when you die and gets resurrected. You live, you die, you come back. Rinse and repeat.” Clay flourished his hands in a cycle for emphasis. “You die in one universe, you get revived in the next. Usually, you'd come back as some form of life resembling what you were. If you're unlucky, you could just as easily come back as a maggot or ball of slime.”

Even though The Watcher knew the reasons, it was odd seeing a hundred year old former god speaking casually and eloquently about a multi-dimensional phenomenon in the body of a ten year old.

Nonetheless, The Watcher continued his questioning. “And you have memories of Earth? How's that possible?”

“We were gods of death. The bonus to that is we choose when and where to come back to, and whatever we want to bring with us. New bodies, same memories.” Clay then sighed and looked towards the flames. “When Stella told me she had notified you of our presence, I nearly blew a gasket. Over a hundred years we served our time as gods of death. We took souls of those that were dying and sent them on. Billions and billions of people, dying by our hands. All just to protect the people we loved. I really thought that when we finally resurrected, we'd get to live a peaceful life.”

The boy stood up and dusted off. The Watcher followed the action.

Sombrely, with a croak of regret in his throat, The Watcher said, “I need your help.”

“We know, that's why I came here first. I wanted to make things clear to you,” Clay replied. He walked over to his horse, untying the creature from the tree. “We watched you fumble around the century, time travelling from one major event to the other, never getting involved, always watching. When we were having the whole portal trouble, when we started dying one-by-one, you could have helped us. If you had just broken your little rule, billions of lives could have been saved.”

The Watcher contemplated his position and wondered if he was in any position to argue. He could not have acted in those circumstances. His role as a time traveller meant if he meddled one step out of line, the world could collapse around him. He had to choose between two great evils and disasters. But Clay was right. He was perhaps the most powerful being in his universe and he had done next to nothing but watched the world burned.

Clay continued, “I'm going to help you because my sister wants to. Come to the library once you're ready. We'll be waiting for you there.” He climbed onto his horse before turning to face the town. He then punctuated, “But this is the last time. After this, we're officially retired from the whole 'saving the world' business.” He clicked the stirrup and the horse broke off for the town, dust rising behind them.

The Watcher stood watching the trail faintly reducing into the distance. Alone again with his thoughts, he thought back to his friends from the war. He thought of the two world-ending catastrophe that had led him to jump into a portal to another universe. He thought of Timothy Kleve. He thought of Clay and Stella. He thought of his brother, Tier. He thought of Luviet. He thought of his Gallena. He thought of Kenji.

At least he wasn't sleepy anymore.