Something cold and damp nudged Arthur’s cheek. He swatted it away and fell back into a deep slumber. Something rough and wet scraped across his nose. Annoyed, he shoved … whatever it was … away and returned to sleep. Something batted him on the jaw. That roused him halfway. Another strike followed — ow! — and someone hissed:

“Oh, for Pete’s sake.”

Arthur awoke, groggily — forced his eyes open — and nearly screamed as he shoved himself back against the wall. A lynx was looming over him, an actual, honest-to-goodness lynx — thick fur, wide paws, tufted ears, and all. The lynx was entirely monochrome: her body was gray-white, as if she’d been primed but never painted. Where the shades seemed to be made of solidified shadow, this big cat seemed to be composed of something like … like moonlit fog, perhaps.

“You know what’s strange?” the lynx said. Naturally, it could talk — that’s the way Arthur’s life worked now. “I haven’t the slightest idea who Pete is — do you?” Her voice was flowing yet husky, like that of a glamorous star from an old movie who had smoked way too many cigarettes after her career ended.

Arthur shook his head.

“I’m Alexis,” she said, dramatically. “But please, call me Lexi.” Her solid black eyes flicked up at the ceiling, and she chewed her lip, just like a person trying to unravel a puzzle. “Well, you know that’s kinda dodgy. Why would I prefer to be called Lexi?”

Arthur shook his head again.

The lynx sat back on her haunches and looked at each paw in turn. “Well, I haven’t got your tongue, so it’s definitely not my fault you can’t speak.”

Morgan stirred beside Arthur. “He’s just dumb. Don’t pay him any —” Morgan opened her eyes and shoved herself back against the wall. “Yikes!”

Lexi waved a paw at her. “Hello, girl-who-finally-speaks!”

“Hi!” Morgan chirped back in alarm.

“You are scaring the both of them, Alexis,” said a voice that sounded like a Shakespearean actor heard through an old tube radio.

From the shadows prowled a monochrome wolf. Like Lexi, he seemed composed of moonlight. Arthur and Morgan both scooted closer to one another. Where the heck had these two … ghost animals … come from?!

“I am Vassalus,” said the wolf. “You may not address me in any other manner. Though, like my comrade Alexis, I am not certain as to why that is my preference.”

“What — what are you?” Arthur asked.

“Oh, I do know that, darling,” Lexi said. “We are numina.”

“Numen in the singular,” Vassalus added. “I am a numen; we are numina. You may also think of us as guardian daemons, if you must. I would prefer if you did not. We are formed from Aetheria. Lady Ylliara of the Manse brought us forth from the subconscious of each of you.”

Morgan pointed at Lexi. “You are from my subconscious?”

“Oh heavens no, my dear,” said Vassalus. “I am from your subconscious. Alexis came from Arthur.”

“Oh,” replied Morgan, “that makes sense.”

“It does?” Arthur asked.

Lexi flicked her fluffy tail back and forth with irritation. “What, you’re not happy with me?”

“Oh, I’m … I’m not unhappy,” Arthur said. “Just a bit puzzled. I don’t understand any of this.”

“Well, it’s hardly my fault if you lack self-awareness and don’t remember your Grandma Paladin except in the deepest recesses of your — hey, how do I know about your Grandma Paladin?” Arthur shrugged. Lexi flicked her head one way and then the other while pouncing around in a circle. She became more agitated with each pounce. “Does anyone know where I left my c/slate? I need to download this month’s copy of Today’s Intergalactic Woman — there’s an article in there that I must read. And where is my cup of Darjeeling and my lingonberry scone? You know I can’t function if I haven’t — wait, where did that come from? I don’t eat scones and drink tea — I’m a cat!”

“It is a residual impulse,” Vassalus said. “It will pass … well, we can certainly hope so, anyway.”

“If Alexis … sorry, Lexi,” said Morgan, “is based in part on Arthur’s Grandma Paladin, who are you based on, Vassalus?”

“Sorry, my dear, but I have no idea. Perhaps I am strictly from your imagination.”

“So the two of you,” said Arthur, “are the help Lady Ylliara promised us?” No wonder she had said not to be alarmed — a talking wolf and a talking cat! But then … he had remembered, vaguely, there being a wolf and a cat in the manse before, but these two weren’t as big as those, which were so large you could ride them. Or was it that he was so small then that they seemed big enough to ride?

“We are your help indeed,” said Vassalus. He eyed Lexi who was bobbing her head up and down, sniffing. “What are you doing, madam?”

“Trying to track down some food — I’m hungry!”

“But you can’t eat scones,” Morgan said.

“Not scones, dearie — I want tuna!”

“We do not need to eat, Alexis. We are numina, remember? In fact, I am rather certain we are not capable of eating or …” a slight tinge of regret entered Vassalus’s voice “… or drinking tea.”

“Oh … well, that stinks,” she groaned.

“Maybe there are some little numina mice running around somewhere …” Arthur suggested.

“See,” said Lexi, flicking her tail happily. “We do match. I like the way you think!”

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Arthur closed his eyes and wished he could roll back time and ask Ylliara for a different guardian. The big cat part was fine — lynxes were awesome, one of his favorite animals — but it was her personality he wanted to change.

“So,” Morgan said, “do either of you know what’s going on?”

“Sadly,” Vassalus said, “we only know a little more than you. Lady Ylliara intended to encode additional information into us, but she ran out of time. We may have a few choice bits of data bouncing around in our heads, but not much. Sorry.”

A sudden burst of fog appeared behind the animals, and out from it stepped a ghostly man. He wore a belted tunic, knee-high boots, and gloves that came almost to his elbows. His arms, legs, and neck were wrapped with what looked like bandages. His face was completely covered with a single cloth that showed the shape of a face but no distinct features. On his head sat a bowler hat. A sword in a scabbard hung from his belt. Arthur had dreamed of beings like this before … probably because he had actually seen this one as a child. The blank faces had certainly terrorized him throughout many nightmares.

“Do not be alarmed,” said Vassalus. “Lady Ylliara told us Valet would arrive soon. It takes a few minutes for the servitors to be restored, after a room has been cleared from essence of Shadow.”

“The servitors?” Arthur said.

“The Aetherial servants of the house,” Lexi said. “Technically, they’re numina just like us, but there are differences. The primary difference is that they are formed out of need and not from anyone’s subconscious — or maybe they’re from Lady Ylliara’s subconscious. They can understand anything you say to them, but they can’t talk. Wow, I really do know some extra things.”

“Because Lady Ylliara told you,” Vassalus said in exasperation.

“Oh, guess I just absorbed it — I wasn’t really paying attention.”

“Valet,” said Vassalus, “is named for his position. All the servitors are.”

“When you say valet,” Arthur said, “do you mean valet?” He pronounced it val-ay instead of val-it like Vassalus kept doing. “Like someone who parks a car?”

“You moron,” Morgan said. “He’s a personal attendant, and you can pronounce it either way.”

“Oh.”

“Valet will see to your personal needs, Master Paladin,” Vassalus explained. “He will help you dress and arm yourself. He will fetch anything you need.”

“But he can’t talk?” Arthur said.

“None of the servitors can,” Vassalus answered. “Though they can respond silently.”

“How many others are there?” Arthur said.

“Five more,” Vassalus replied. “Cook, Maid, Waiter, Librarian, and Arms.”

“Are the servitors robots?” Morgan asked.

“Not exactly, my dear,” Vassalus answered. “They are Aetherial constructs.”

“And that means …” Arthur prompted.

“That they are, like us, made of solidified light,” said Lexi. “Just as the shades you just fought are constructs of darkness.”

“Solidified light?” Morgan said. “That’s not possible.”

“It is not the common sort of light you are familiar with,” said the wolf. “It is Aetherial light, just as the shades you encountered were made of Entropian shadow.”

“So how long were we asleep?” Arthur asked.

“About an hour,” answered Lexi.

“Sixty-three and a half minutes,” Vassalus corrected.

“Lady Ylliara said we should rest a while before daring the Grand Hallway,” Arthur said. “Guess we should rest some more, huh?”

“Oh, sounds good to me!” Lexi said. She curled up into a giant fluff-ball next to Arthur, and immediately began softly purring … or maybe snoring.

Vassalus shook his head. “I would not take too long. Maybe another hour. Nap if you like. If you need help with anything, do not hesitate to ask me.”

Arthur looked to Valet who was simply staring at him. “Do you need rest or anything?” Arthur asked him.

Valet shook his head no.

“Are you any good with that sword?”

Valet drew the blade. It was a long, thin sword — a rapier. He went through several attack routines, swished the sword with a flourish, and returned it to the scabbard. He stared at Arthur, who, not knowing what else to do, nodded in approval.

“All the skill of a long-retired, septuagenarian fencing instructor,” Vassalus muttered. “But beggars cannot be choosers.”

“Will your sword hurt the shades?” Arthur asked.

Valet pointed to the sword on the floor that Arthur had used and shook his head. Well, that was too bad.

“Can they hurt you?” Morgan asked.

Valet nodded yes, and Vassalus said, “Oh, they can hurt all of us.” He bared his teeth. “Though, we can most certainly hurt back.”

The way Valet just stood there watching them made Arthur nervous. “Valet, could you guard the door. Just in case they break through.”

Vassalus eyed Arthur, but said nothing as Valet walked over, drew his sword, and faced the door. Arthur picked up the other sword, since it was all he would have to work with until they reached the Armory. He flopped into one of the big armchairs. Lexi woke, followed him, and curled up at his feet. She was soon fast asleep again.

Morgan retrieved her backpack and took the armchair opposite Arthur. She rummaged through her pack. Vassalus stood beside her, gazing on with interest. Arthur felt a pang of jealousy. He couldn’t help but think that Morgan had gotten the better numen.

Morgan examined her ThinkPad, and booted it up. A minute later, she sighed with relief and sank back into the chair. After sorting through various cords and what he thought was an extra battery, she checked her iPhone with the shattered screen. “It’s still working, but obviously there’s no signal. And of course, you can’t see the screen very well. Probably good that I packed light today.”

“That’s light?” Arthur said.

“Well, most days I’d have my iPad and my Chromebook with me as well.”

“Your backpack must weigh a ton.”

“I’ve gotten used to it. I’m stronger than I look.”

“And you really need all those devices at once?” Arthur said.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“You could try explaining it to me.”

“Don’t you think you’ve had your mind expanded enough for one day?”

Arthur chuckled. “Know what’s funny?”

“Haven’t a clue.”

“We’re talking! You know, like how actual friends do.”

Morgan stared at him as if he were something completely alien, and then almost smiled. “I don’t think I’ve ever talked this much in a single day before.”

“See, it’s not that hard.”

“Are you kidding? It’s making my skin crawl. I’m running on pure adrenaline, and if I don’t have some down time all to myself soon, I’m going to start having panic attacks.”

“Ah, see, you’re even joking with me.”

Vassalus shook his head, and Morgan sighed, “That was not a joke, Arthur.”

“Oh — okay.”

He didn’t say anything else. It was probably best to leave her alone for a while. Unfortunately, that meant having to sort through his thoughts. He’d almost rather go ahead and charge into the hall full of shadows, even if it meant dying, than to have to think over all that he’d been through … everything he’d learned today … everything he’d seen … from the terrifying to the absurd …

He just might have a breakdown soon, as well. He really needed days, weeks … maybe even years to absorb all of this.

He’d been right after all. He was meant for something more. He was supposed to be learning something more than Algebra and Spanish — only this was far more than he had expected — and it was too much, too soon. The entire universe — the Multiverse! — depended on him, Arthur Primus Paladin. All that weight on his shoulders, and no one had prepared him. Was there something wrong with him? Was that why his dad hid him away without training him? Or had his dad just been trying to keep him from getting assassinated like his mom?

Arthur angled the sword across his lap and gazed at his reflection. I’m the only one left. He looked at Morgan fiddling with her computer. And it’s up to me; not just to take on the bad guys throughout the Multiverse, but to get Morgan back home safely … or at least keep her from getting killed. He couldn’t let her be like … like Derek.

If only he’d known about all this sooner …

Anger bubbled up from deep within. The shadows in here might be responsible for his parents’ deaths — at the very least they were threatening Lady Ylliara and Morgan. They stood in between him and his legacy and the truth.

Arthur stood up and brandished the sword. “I’m tired of resting … tired of waiting. I’ve been waiting my whole life. This is my house, and I’m taking it back. Let’s go.”

Lexi woke and sprang up. “That’s the spirit! Let’s get ’em!”