Except for the stray hairs around the nose, below the mouth, and above the eyes, the cat was jet black. The gray hairs gave the cat the appearance of a goatee and mustache, and of watching everything in the room, even while she slept. That was her favorite pastime, sleeping. Her favorite place was either curled in front of the large black marble fireplace, or stretched along the mantle above. That was not to say that she could not be found sleeping in other places that intrigued her for the moment.

In contrast, the man who shared the old brownstone, with the cat, was gray except for black bushy eyebrows and a thick black mustache. The gray hair created the appearance of age, yet his skin was unlined or wrinkled. His skin had the texture and pallor of youth. He was a remarkably average looking man. This ability to appear nondescript and blend into the background gave him anonymity. This was important.

The only exceptional feature was his eyes. They were expressive eyes. Eyes that were cold and hard, warm and friendly, troubled with the problems of humanity, or twinkling with some inner knowledge or joke, all depending on the instance of his gaze. Eyes that were remembered floating on an anonymous face in one’s memory.

The man was sitting in a large wingback chair facing the warm glow emanating from the fireplace. The cat was curled inches from his feet engaged in her favorite pastime. Shadows shrouded the room while the only illumination coming from the fireplace and a soft golden glow surrounding the man.

The strange thing about this golden glow was that there was no light lamp by the man from which the glow could originate. The glow just existed, surrounding and comforting like a warm blanket. An ancient oversized tome laid open in his lap. His hands loosely held the sides. Half closed eyes stared blankly out into space, as if he were sleeping. A cold pipe layed forgotten on the table beside the chair.

Suddenly the soft envelopment of golden light was stripped away to be replaced by a dazzling white light, the brilliance of which illuminated the farthest corners of the room. The man’s eyes shot open and his hand instinctively shot to his chest and his breath was gone. The cat leaped onto the book in the old man’s lap and began to meow wildly. Laboriously, the man extended the forefinger of his left hand. Rotating the finger in a circular pattern, the light quickly changed and air filled his lungs. Inhaling deeply, the man gently stroked the cat reassuringly.

‘Now it’s time,’ the cat meowed nervously.

“I know Cleopatra, I know,” his voice was tired and soft.

‘Others must have felt the disturbance,’ the cat meowed several times before curling herself atop the open book, and resting her head on the back of his arm.

“I realize that too. If we felt the riff, then so would others. I can’t prevent that from happening.”

‘We should have gone sooner,’ she meowed softly.

“Gone where? Who would we have been looking to find? Until this moment, how would we even know that the one we sought even had any power worth our compilation?”

‘We should have gone,’ she meowed insistently.

“I don’t agree. You can’t go running around the world blindly, just hoping that we’ll stumble on something.”

‘We always knew there had to be someone,’ this time her meow was accusing.

“I know, but you have to wait until the time is right. You know that too, if you’d just admit it to yourself. Granted, this is cutting things a little close, but what could we have done? We had to wait until it was time.”

‘And is it time now,’ the cat meowed was sarcastic.

“Yes,” he answered wearily, “yes. Now we do have to find him. Tomorrow we’ll call the others together and we’ll find him.”

‘We could have looked before,’ she meowed naggingly.

Before he could respond she meowed again,

‘This one is strong. He knows how to use power.’

“I disagree. Stripping away vast amounts of power is foolish. Either he didn’t know what he was doing, or the amount of power he was tapping into, and the consequences of that action. Or he could just be stupid,” he ended strongly, but his hand scratched softly behind the cat’s ear.

She purred contentedly for a few minutes, then meowed,

‘But he is strong.’

“Yes, I’ll give him that, he is strong. Stronger than we’ve felt for more than fifty years. But I wonder if he’s strong enough for the coming task and to protect himself?”

Cleopatra closed her eyes and meowed softly several times. It was an old story being told between friends for the umteenth time. The pain, sadness and betrayal dulled with time, but not forgotten. A story so familiar it required little concentration to follow.

“Forty-nine years ago, last July,” he said dreamily, “that was when we first felt Devlin McGuier. It started out good; no, better than good. He was astute, clever and quick to learn, but more importantly he paid attention to details. We should have seen the evil taking hold earlier. It was our fault he changed. Too much, too fast, we should have put an end to it; to him. But now...”

He was silent for a few minutes. The meow was soft and urging.

“I know it was my responsibility to destroy him, but he was too much like the son Roxanne and I always dreamed of having. How do you kill your own son? Besides, by that point I was already too old to face him down. I’m even older now, and he has grown even stronger. Perhaps this new one will have the strength and power to do what I couldn’t. Then, finally I can rest. I want to rest so badly. I’ve stood guard for so long.”

‘It’s not your time yet,’ she said in a long pleading meow.

“Cleopatra, my dear Cleopatra, you’ve known for a long time that you’d out last me. My time is coming soon; thankfully soon. I can feel it and so can you. I’ll be glad to pass through and finally rest. To be with my Roxanne again. It’ll be your choice then to serve the next Guardian, or to finish out your time here as a common house pet, sleeping all day and getting fat.”

Cleopatra licked the back of his hand.

“Tomorrow I’ll call the convocation. Then we’ll find this young man and see if he could be the One. Pray that he is the right one, because time is running down.” His chin drifted to his chest.

‘Quickly then, we have to find him quickly.’

“Yes, yes, before Devlin can find him,” he whispered, and then the library was silent.

Three

As he rolled away from the woman, the balcony doors opened silently in response to the hot stuffy feeling he was experiencing. Cold air, tinged with the salt of the air below blew into the room, along with the sound of the pounding surf eighty feet below. The curtains bellowed inward, exposing the horizon as red fingers of dawn clawed at the darker shades of night. The calls of the sea gulls drifted mutedly through the air. The sounds of the world waking to a new day began to fill the room, but it was ignored by the sleeping forms of the two occupants.

Abruptly the curtains were pulled outward, almost being ripped from the rod. The air in the room followed the curtains out. The two sleeping figures awoke, startled and gasping for their next breath. As if acting as one, they used the forefinger of their left hand to draw the familiar pattern.

Salt tinged air flooded the room again. It took a couple of moments to reestablish their normal breathing pattern. The woman recovered first. Her long flowing black hair was disheveled from her sleep and startling awakening. Dark green eyes wildly looking around the sleeping chamber with fright. High cheek still held the slight bluish ting of oxygen deprivation.

“What in the name of all hell’s creatures happened?” she gasped. The man ran his hand through his short cropped black hair, as he shook his head. It was a habit he had when he was confused, which he rarely displayed. The light came on beside the bed. He stood woodenly beside the open balcony doors taking several deep breaths. Fresh oxygen surged through his body, calming his nerves and accelerating his thoughts.

His eyes were unusual. Tiny flecks of gold could be seen in his brown irises, but when angered, the gold turned to red giving him a demonic appearance. They were red, now.

“Somebody pulled an enormous amount of energy from the atmosphere,” came his quiet angry response.

“I don’t understand how that could affect the air in here. We always set guards before we go to sleep.”

“That’s just it: the guards. The summon of energy was so vast that our guards were swept away too. The guards are nothing more than redirected energy, and when they rushed away, the aftermath pulled all the air from the room with them. A vacuum was momentarily created. We were damn lucky, and you know I hate luck.”

“Devlin, who could control that much energy and why?” the woman asked softly as she realized the full implications of the event.

“I don’t know, but I intend to find out.”

“And then what?”

“I’ll destroy him. Someone that powerful could conceivably interfere with my plans, or even destroy them. I’ve come too far, waited too long, and worked too hard to even allow that possibility to exist. Whoever did this will die before I open the Gate.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to have him join us? Control of that much power might be useful in the future.”

“No!” he spat. Through barely controlled rage he continued, “Sooner or later this person would challenge my authority.”

She stared at him, dazed by the hate, rage and anger the mere thought of a challenge created within him. The red flecks blazed in his eyes, the cords of muscles strained in his neck as he attempted, and failed, to control his anger. She knew then that anyone presenting a threat to him, no matter how remote, would be destroyed. Briefly, she wondered if that included her.

Devlin pulled on his silk robe and strode to the door.

“I’m going to the tower to find this person. I don’t want to be disturbed for any reason.” With that statement he was gone. The room suddenly felt empty. The rage, the anger, and even jealousy which had reverberated throughout the room leaving with him.

She stood on the balcony, her robe held tightly around herself from the early morning chill, as she looked across the bay at the little town waking to a new dawn. A dawn which looked bright, clear with an unusual chill to the air for this time of year. Watching without really seeing as the first of the fishing boats returned with their daily catch, to offer for sale at the market. She’d have to remember to tell the cook to buy something special, maybe that would help appease Devlin.

Even she was not allowed to enter the tower when he sequestered himself there. It was at times like this, when it felt like a slap in the face through his actions of mistrust and secrecy that she hated him. Hate and love, they were too much the same at times.

She could have helped, but he would never allow a mere student to help the great Devlin. His pupil, lover, companion, housekeeper, but never his partner, confidant or more importantly, equal. Twenty-three years together should have earned her some rights. Resentment welled in her throat threatening to gag her.

She had been waiting tables in a truck stop just outside Akron, Ohio. A sleazy little pit of a waystation for the tired traveler. The walls of the restaurant a dull gray from time and dirt, originally a light baby blue more than twenty years before. Her life the same lackluster dullness. She had always known that she was beautiful, and incredibly she had never been able to capitalize on that fact to her own advantage.

Except when Devlin came into the truck stop. He had been forced off the road by the blizzard, and like the other two dozen travelers waited impatiently for the storm to pass or at least slacken enough to make travel possible again.

She served him coffee along with a smattering of conversation. His conversation deepened into vague hints of excitement and travel. Further hints promised the possibility of money, power and eternal youth if she was willing to give up everything else she had ever known. It only took her ten minutes to realize there was nothing to give up. Her life was empty, lonely with little meaning or satisfaction.

Twenty years into the relationship she understood that his promises were basically hollow. The only promise to be fulfilled faithfully was that of eternal beauty and youth. At forty-two she still looked like nineteen. If only youth had been all she craved.

Realization that Devlin could control energy, making things change in his own surroundings, came during the first year. Begging, pleading, cajoling fell on deaf ears. Teach her to control those things also, and he would have a slave for life. His cruel laugh taunted the fact that he already had her as a slave to the end of her life.

Mercifully, he did begin to teach her a few basic skills. Later it turned out that those few skills only added to Devlin’s power and skill, augmenting his ability tenfold. Menial mental exercises that had to be practiced for hours upon hours, month after month, year following year. He said it would allow her the control needed for handling the raw power he would introduce to her.

Ten years and thousands of broken promises later, he finally relented and taught some of the most basic incantations. By centimeters her own power grew, and with each new skill mastered she wanted more; begged for more. Grudgingly he gave her an occasional new incantation to practice, while always guarding the true power for himself.

What she had to do to gain these scraps of knowledge, these meager spells, made her feel like a whore. Twenty-three years and he still did not trust her. It was so easy to hate him at times.

One evening, late in their seventeenth year, half drunk Devlin finally divulged the principle of yin and yang. Power helping power. It became clear to her why they stayed together. Leeching power from each other.

But Devlin always taking so much more with his great skill. That night she learned the most important of lessons by pure accident: power was knowledge, power itself. Their own yin and yang. Over the last six years her thirst for knowledge, power, had grown daily to the point where it rivaled Devlin’s desire. Her one great skill was keeping this desire from Devlin, lest she incur his wrath. The ability to change her environment at will, as Devlin can, was her goal. She wondered if this person Devlin now sought to find to destroy, held these keys himself. The keys to power, the knowledge to control the energies of the world, and fear no possible challenge from another source.

That was it. She smiled. It was a sardonic little smile twisting her lips at the corners, taking away from her eternal beauty. She had seen Devlin angry before for a myriad of reasons. This morning's rage was something new.

Fear. Real fear. Devlin feared this mysterious somebody. This mysterious man could possibly have the key to drain their own power. This mystery man knew more than Devlin knew, and that was the real threat. Could this mystery man be enticed to give her keys to power that Devlin had denied to her. A desire so strong she would do just about anything. No that was wrong, she understood. She would do anything.

She turned her back to the bay and the morning sunlight. Re-entering, she picked up her phone to call her maid. This could be a good day after all.

“Yes Mum,” the maid said politely after curtsying upon entering her mistresses bedchamber.

“I’ll have breakfast now. A large breakfast, scrambled eggs, kippers, kidneys and potatoes. Toast, of course, and tea,” as she waved her hand at the girl in dismissal.

Idly she sat at her vanity brushing her lustrous black hair to a high sheen as she waited. She dreamed of what her life would be like with more power, more knowledge, more money and not having to owe Devlin anything. Her smile disappeared quickly as she saw Devlin’s stern face looking back at her from inside the mirror. Devlin’s face disappeared as quickly as it had come, to be replaced by a new face.

The image of a man with gray hair, black mustache and black bushy eyebrows, and steel gray eyes. She had seen those eyes many times before in her dreams; no nightmares. Now the face smiled, but still no warmth in the eyes as the head shook back and forth. ‘No.’

Her arm with the brush flung forward and shot hard into the center of the mirror. It shattered into a dozen pieces, with the face of the gray hair, gray eyed man still shaking his head ‘No’. Then it was gone.

“No!” she shrieked. “You won’t stop us this time Edgar Franklin Goodman! This is our time! Our opportunity and you’re too old to fight us! To stop us!”

She paced the floor, trying to fathom the connection between Edgar Goodman and this mysterious man. Could Goodman already know who he was, where he was? Could this be Goodman’s new apprentice?

Devlin rarely talked about Goodman, but over the years the story came out. A little bit here, some there, and even more over there, the story of his apprenticeship was relayed. The love of a father. The betrayal and attempted murder of that man. There was a knock on the door and before she could say a word, the maid entered pushing her food cart.

“Take it away,” she snapped. “I’m not hungry now. In the future, be quicker if you know what’s good for you.”

Apologizing the maid quickly exited with the offending cart. Sitting at her vanity again, she absently moved her hand over the face of the shattered glass. Canting the incantation, the glass melted back into one solid piece of glass.

“Hurry Devlin. Find this person,” she whispered to herself.

Four

Valarie Williams was too upset to sleep. The green numbers of the digital alarm clock glared brightly into the darkness: 1:47 a.m. For at least the hundredth time that night, she asked herself the same question. How could she have been so stupid, so naive? Would she always go through life making the wrong choices? In love? In life? Did she mysteriously thrive on the pain and chaos those wrong choices made? She did know how to love. She knew how to make a commitment in life to a partner. Was she old fashioned, or should have lived in another time?

Was she not good enough for Robert? Or was he an expert at having to not make a commitment in return? As long as there were people gullible enough, he evidently felt he did not need to commit. He would be able to keep on using and taking from people, thriving off the innocent.

Rolling over in bed she told herself yet again that she should have seen the signs. She should have known this would happen. Maybe it was the speed at which the whole affair had moved which created her blindness.

They had met by accident; a real accident. Robert had smashed into the back of her Honda. Over seven hundred dollars worth of damages, and he did not have a penny of insurance. (Hint number one.) Thankfully, Arizona was a no fault auto insurance state, so her insurance would pay. Except for the hundred and fifty dollar deductible she did not have, and the raise in her premium at the end of the year.

To make things up to her, he had invited her out to dinner, and strangely enough she had accepted. (Had she been that desperate for a date?) That had been totally unlike her. Later she told herself that it had been the dark eyes, easy manner and beautiful smile. One dinner led to another dinner, to lunch, to dinner, to breakfast after he had spent the night, and they made love.

Robert had been a magnificent lover, tender, caring. Unlike the few other men Valarie had to compare him to. The experience was beautiful. While they made love, he made her keenly aware of her body, every part. It was now easy to understand why some women never had enough sex. Making love to Robert was all she thought about in the beginning. He had brought her body alive.

Two weeks after their first night in bed, Robert had moved in with her. The funny thing was that she could not remember when they had discussed the matter, or that she had even asked him to move into her apartment. Valarie decided that was a small point when you took into account that Robert would be hers every night. That was all that mattered in the end. She did not want to lose him by bringing up that little thing of taking the initiative to move in with her. By this point she could not even tolerate the thought of losing him.

Heaven was her for one and a half months. Six short weeks. Forty-two quick days. Then the little fears started to settle in that he was seeing other women. There was never any concrete evidence of infidelity, just a nagging feeling in the back of her head.

She marked those feelings down to her own insecurities coming through. After all, she was no beauty. Cute maybe, but definitely not beautiful. While Robert was so handsome and worldly. Worldly was the only word she could think of to describe Robert to Fran, her best friend since high school.

His manner, his confidence, his knowledge and style all went to build this worldly man. It was as if he had done everything before, and was introducing Valarie to the world he inhabited. Would someone so worldly really be content with such a naive woman?

Those little fears were there for a reason, in the back of her head, growing just a little bit each day.

Then today, five weeks after the little nagging fears had started, reality hit home. She had not been feeling well, so she had left work three hours early. At home she found that Robert had left work early that day too, four hours early. He was already in bed when she opened the bedroom door; with another woman.

He was in her bed with another woman.

That statement repeated in her head two dozen times, at least, before she picked up the jar he kept spare change in from the dresser. She had been on the girl’s softball team in high school. It was hard to say what alerted Robert to his impending trouble, the screeching voice or the crashing jar inches from his head. Standing beside the bed and pulling on his underwear then pants, Robert acted as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Valarie was overreacting. Over reacting to the fact he had another woman IN HER BED! All of her fears were real.

As Robert tried to calm the screaming Valarie, she noticed that he was not in bed with a woman, but with a girl. She could clearly see the immature body, small breasts and knew that the girl could not have been more than seventeen, and that was being generous.

She never realized her vocabulary was that diverse as she continued to yell and throw his clothing out of the bedroom window into the parking lot below. Robert only slapped her once as he tried to calm her hysterics when his words were having little effect.

Falling to the ground he quickly curled into a fetal position from the hard knee to his groin for the slap and inciting circumstances. Staggering to his feet, he retaliated with his own verbal assault reducing her to stunned silence.

The slamming of the door told her more pronouncedly that it was over, than his actual leaving. She stood with her arms wrapped around herself, feeling ill in the pit of her stomach. A very different type of ill than what had sent her home.

The feeling in her pit was cold and hard. It was the sense of loss, of an unfulfilled life, a return to normalcy and the drudgery of her previous existence, Fear gripped her with chilling strength, immobilizing her.

In a flash of vengeful movement, she tore the sheets from the bed. Crying she fell across the bare mattress, only stopping because of the insistent ringing of the phone. It was a wrong number. Her whole life had been a wrong number already. To care for someone was to invite pain and hurt. She could not stand that any more.

Darkness settled into the apartment. Finally she rose and turned on a light. She took a hot bath to relax. The water was warm and inviting, easing her body into relaxation, but not her mind. Several times the lure of slipping under the warm blanket of water into a quiet oblivion crossed her mind.

Each time it was harder to push aside. Why did life treat her this way? What had she ever done that was so wrong? She was a warm, caring, giving person. She knew how to love, maybe not wisely, then again how many people did? Would there ever come a time when she would be happy? Needed? Content?

The quiet lulling of the warm water called again. She forced herself to think of other things. Her eyes roamed over the small room to stop at the sink. He was still here! His toothbrush, can of shaving cream and disposable razor sat on the edge as damning evidence. A moment later she was out of the tub, the evidence wiped clean into the trash. Ransacking the medicine cabinet for further evidence, consigning each item to the graveyard of the trash can.

Revenge would be her’s. Robert would suffer, if he was capable of human emotions, by knowing that she could and would be happy without him in her life, even if it killed her. Nobody, especially Robert, had the right to destroy another person so completely that the compilation of suicide was the only alternative. That was too easy of an ending, and why should the ending be easier than the beginning or middle? So far, her life had not been the easiest, but at least she had grown stronger with each setback, and she would grow stronger still.

Stronger and stronger, she kept telling herself as she rolled over in bed. She would show Robert and the world. She only wished she could stop reliving the events of the afternoon, over and over again in her mind. It was like a bad soap opera on continuous loop in her mind. A flash of lightning lit the bedroom. The sound of thunder pounding closeby rattled the windows. She stood to close the window against the approaching storm, and decided that a cup of tea might help her sleep.

Mechanically she filled the teapot as she blankly stared out the window above her sink into the vacant lot behind the building. Another flash of lightning caused her to jump and blink her eyes. Another flash lit the night sky as the sound of thunder peeled in her ears. The last flash had momentarily illuminated the silhouette of somebody floating in the air. The absurdity of what her eyes told her brain caused her to peer into the darkness for confirmation.

People did not float in the air. Except in magic shows, and that was fake. Reaching over she turned off the kitchen light, and suddenly the outside was easier to see. Another blinding flash of light and immediate crash of thunder filled the small apartment. Rain started to pelt the window panes. Twin bolts of lightning flashed, and Valarie swore the bolts struck the floating man. A scream mingled with the thunder, and now Valarie was sure she had witnessed the death of the man.

Without pause, she dropped the teapot into the sink and rushed out of her apartment. Rain beat down on her, causing her night gown to stick to her body in an almost indecent fashion. As she made it to the parking lot, a second set of twin bolts struck the floating man on either side of his head. The scream was audible through the driving rain and thundering din of the storm. Valarie rushed to the body laying in the mud and trash of the vacant lot.

The body was as still as death. Her problems were forgotten as she knelt beside the shadowy figure. As she reached out to touch the figure, she heard a deep rumbling growl, and looked up. The red eyes of a massive black dog stood on the other side of the body, ready to pounce. Recoiling, Valarie pulled her hands to her chest as if burnt by the fire in the mud. The dog growled again as he studied the woman. It tipped its head to the right and then the left, as if making a decision. Two quick barks and Valarie had the odd impression that the dog had just instructed her to take care of him, before turning to run back into the storm.

Pulling the man onto his back the next flash of light instantly told her who was laying before her. Evan Cooper.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Questions flooded her mind. Ranging from is he still alive to why was he in the vacant lot to start. A moan told her that he was at least still alive.

“I’ll go get help,” she yelled above the noise of the storm. “You’ll be alright. Just lay here until I can get some help. I’ll be right back,” she reiterated.

A hand grasped her forearm weakly before she could rise. “No,” the single word filled her mind.

“You need help, and I don’t know what to do. I have to call for that help, an ambulance, the police, someone!”

“No,” and this time the sound of the storm faded as the word filled her mind. They were both soaked to the skin, the storm raging about them. The wind tried hard to pull their clothes from their bodies. Even with the strobing lights, crashing sounds on her eardrums and torrential rains, the single word compelled her to stay.

“Help me back to my apartment, please.”

“I’ll try. Can you stand?”

“I think so. With help.” Shakily they rose to their feet, first Valarie and then Evan. “The apartment,” filled her mind as the word ‘no’ had moments before. They began to stagger out of the vacant lot and to the surer footing of the asphalt in the parking lot.

“You’re too heavy for me,” Valarie yelled into Evan’s ear over the noise of the storm. “I have to get someone stronger to help.”

“No, don’t leave. Just give me a minute to rest.”

As she watched, he looked heavenward. The rain beat down upon his face. It was as if he was searching the skies for something. She saw his lips move, but the wind tore the sound away. It was the first time that she could not hear him distinctly.

A moment later, the wind came up behind the pair and Evan stood taller. Lightning flashed wildly and thunder beat down upon them as the storm seemed to sit directly above them now. As the wind blew on their back, they were propelled through the parking lot, up to the front of the building and the covered walkway.

Once again Evan let his weight fall onto Valarie’s shoulders. Lightning struck down to hit the white painted metal railing that ran across the front of the building. Valarie jumped with the clamorous noise of the thunder. She smelled the ozone from the lightning and metal. Images of a horror movie ran through her mind as quickly as the storm was raging.

For a second time, she felt Evan’s weight lift from her shoulders and they rushed down the cover walkway. In minutes they were standing in front of his apartment door, to the left of her own apartment door. His weight once again sagged back onto her shoulders. With one hand she opened his door upon the stygian darkness in his apartment. That same shaky hand reached for where she thought the light switch should be, and flicked on a table lamp.

Pushing, pulling and prodding, Valarie manhandled Evan into the bedroom. Dumping him on the bed, and turning on the bedside lamp, she realized that she had to get his clothes off and him dried, before the whole bed became a sodden mess. Gasping as the shirt came off, Valarie very tenderly touched the huge red burn mark over his heart in the center of his lean chest. Pulling her hand away before making contact from the pulsing heat as she neared the mark, she instead moved her hands to his neck. Twin burns on either side of his neck demonstrated where his body had been hit two more times. Pulling his legs up onto the bed, she pulled the sodden sneakers from his feet and threw them into the corner. It was a tugging match to get the heavy water logged jeans over his hips and down his legs. Evan now laid naked shivering on the bed. She looked at the beautiful body.

Taking a towel from the bathroom, she dried his body and then wrapped him in a blanket. Evan continued to shiver and Valarie searched his closet looking for a second blanket.

“I’ll be right back,” she said standing over his body. “I have to get you another blanket from my apartment.”

“Don’t go,” came the sound of his weak voice. Did she not see his lips move? She was staring right at his bluish tinged lips from the cold, the dark sunken eyes and the wet hair slicked back against his skull.

“I’ll be right back. I have to change and you need another blanket. Now just rest.”

In her apartment, she saw her own bedraggled appearance in her mirror as she stripped off the plaster down sodden nightgown. She pulled the nightgown over her head and dropped it into her tub. Quickly toweling herself off and blow drying her hair, she dressed in jeans and a pull over sweater. She pulled another blanket from her closet, and as she prepared to exit, she looked out into the storm and the vacant lot.

What had he been doing out there, she wondered. Just on the fringe of her vision, she saw the huge black dog again. She watched as the giant head tipped back and a long plaintive howl erupted. Somehow Valarie understood that the dog had enjoined her to take care of its current master.

The whole thing was strange, but then Evan had always seemed strange. They had lived next to each other for almost two years. She passed him maybe twice a month, only saying hello out of civility. The conversation had never gone further than the perfunctory greetings.

During the course of their mutual tenancy, Evan had at one point been a very loud neighbor. Arguments, loud ranting and ravings passing through the thin walls, but never clear enough to understand what was being said. Then there had been the period of wind chimes. For weeks the musical notes of the chimes passed through the wall to relax Valarie. When that ended, the period of the stink arose. Terrible sulfur odors, rotting garbage penetrated the thin walls. Thankfully it only lasted for a couple of weeks. Now none of that mattered. What mattered was that Evan needed her, and after a day like today, it was a wonderful feeling being needed.

With the second blanket wrapped around his body, Valarie walked back into the living room. The darkness which still clung to the corners disturbed her. It seemed unnatural, maybe even sinister. How could a shadow be sinister? She shook her head and chided herself for acting like a child.

As quickly as possible, she moved about the small apartment turning on every light she could find. Repeatedly telling herself that there was nothing to be afraid of in the dark. Walking through the dining room area, she noticed the gold and silver candles on the floor by the legs of one of the chairs.

The quick tour ended in the kitchen. A few dirty dishes in the sink and two garbage bags tied closed standing next to the open garbage can, caused her nose to wrinkle. On the short counter between the stove and the refrigerator, she saw the crucible and a blow torch. Something shinny clung to the walls and she imagined that it was silver. A large burnt spot on the counter made her think how mad Mr. Deaton, their landlord, was going to be when he saw the damage.

Hunger gnawed at the back of her stomach. It was then that she remembered that she had not eaten since that morning; or was it yesterday morning now? The refrigerator yielded little in the way of edible food. A few carrots resprouting roots, a cucumber turning into green slime, two withered oranges, and a wrinkled apple sitting next to them. Four bottles of beer, some cheese, a box of crackers and a quart of milk was the total inventory of the refrigerator. She opened the top of the milk and her stomach churned from the noxious odor of the spoiled milk assailing her nose. It poured out in clumps and she had no idea how long that even took to change. The cheese and crackers proved to be the only palatable things in the refrigerator, although the cheese was virtually unidentifiable, and the crackers were soggy. Why would anyone keep crackers in the refrigerator?

The cabinets in the kitchen yielded some dishes and glasses, along with some exotic bottles. Just how exotic Valarie had no idea since they were not labeled, but when one bottle looked back at her, she was finished with her examination of the kitchen. Now she understood why Evan looked like he had not eaten in weeks. He probably had not. At least in his own apartment.

Carrying her plate of mystery cheese and crackers, she started her closer examination of the dining room and living room. She had no idea why she was doing it. She never considered herself as a medicine cabinet snoop, but for some unidentifiable reason she did not seem able to control herself.

She stopped to really look at the round dinette set in the dining room. One chair had been placed in the corner backwards, like a naughty child. Strange symbols, that had been written in chalk, remained on one section of the faux wood tabletop. She could see where the rest of the table had been quickly and sloppily erased. Why would he write on the table and then try to hide the evidence? Again she noticed the candles laying beside the legs of the chair and correctly guessed that they had all been flung from the table in the same movement.

Small pieces of metal were also on the floor by the chair, and she picked one piece up. A single runic symbol was engraved into the center of the disk. Her eyes were held captive by the rune, and it was not until she shook her head that she was able to break eye contact, allowing her eyes to move once again. Dropping the disc on the table, she noticed the black cube sitting on the floor where the errant chair should have been located. Setting her plate on the table, she bent down to the cube. It was amazingly light in weight. She could hear rattling as if objects resided inside. Turning the cube in her hands, she could find neither a lid nor seam to indicate that the cube opened in any fashion.

Whatever was inside had to have been placed there when the cube was originally constructed, she decided. She set the cube back where she found it and picked up her plate. Three large framed pictures were hung on the wall opposite of the kitchen. She recognized the portraits, but they were not how she knew the people: Houdini, Blackstone and Copperfield. Three of the world's greatest magicians. Evan must be a magic buff.

The living room was spartanly furnished with a sofa, side chair, corner end table and lamp. No television, stereo, or any other electronics. Four seats in the living room, four chairs in the dining room allowed Valarie to see how numerous Evan’s friends must be. The wall opposite the sofa was covered from floor to ceiling with charts of unfathomable figures that had been tacked into place in what seemed a random order to her.

Books were the most prominent items in the room. Hundreds of books littered the end table, scattered over the sofa, and stacked along the walls. Piles of books that stretched from floor to ceiling stood straight and steady, despite the haphazard fashion of its construction. Examining the spines of the books, she saw the wide array of interest. Several languages were in clear evidence over the array of subjects including astronomy, numerology, demonology, witchcraft, Mesopotamia, Persian and Egyptian history, Druidism, alchemy, tarot, divination, Hinduism, Cabalism, and several old bibles.

Evan must have a unique and considerable knowledge, she thought, but why? Sitting down in the only chair in the room, she looked at the end table. Three piles, of what looked like diaries, were stacked a dozen high along the back edge of the table.

She picked the top diary from the furthest pile. The bindings would not separate to allow the book to open. Turning the book over and over, searching the edges, she was unable to find any form of locking device. It made no sense that she could not open the thin book. She replaced it and picked up the top book in the center pile. This book opened and she smiled. As she looked at the spindlely handwriting, the ink shimmered and disappeared. Quickly turning to another page further in the book, the ink shimmered and disappeared. She snapped the book closed.

What the hell? That just did not make sense. Ink does not evaporate or disappear off the page. She pulled the top book off the third pile. Opening to a random page, she noticed the date before the ink shimmered and disappeared. She did not need to keep repeating the process which confounded her mind. The date was three weeks prior, and she wondered how long of a period the diaries covered. The latest book was replaced.

At the far corner of the table, behind the lamp, Valarie noticed a picture frame turned down, hiding the picture. The glass of the frame was broken and the sharp edges cut into the picture itself. The way the cracks emitted from the center, made Valarie to think that the glass had been deliberately broken. Evan, in an ill fitting tux, stood beside a girl in her pink formal gown. Their age made her think of prom. Evan’s gaze was one of adoration. Someone’s living room filled the background, and Valarie guessed it was her family’s. Written across the lower right corner, in looping immature handwriting were the broken promise, “I’ll love you forever, Cindy.” Two little hearts intertwined decorated the space just below her name.

The edge of a piece of paper peeked from under the bottom of the frame. Valarie gently pulled and the papers came out of the frame. The first was a marriage license for Cindy Barker and Evan Cooper, dated almost seventeen years ago. They must have been high school sweethearts, she thought. She wondered what had become of Mrs. Cooper, as she unfolded the second sheet of paper.

It was a letter from Cindy to Evan, dared three years from the date on the marriage license.

“Evan,

I’m too young to waste my life waiting for you to make something happen while you fool around with your stupid magic. You’ll never be a good magician, let alone one of the greats. I have my own dreams, my own life that I want to live and enjoy. You either can’t or won’t give me what I want and need. We were married too young and those special moments too few. I’m going to Reno for a divorce. Don’t try to follow me. I won’t come back. You won’t change your mind about the magic and making some real money. Why should I change mine for you? Hope you finally pull a rabbit out of that damn hat.

Cindy”

The same looping immature handwriting as on the photo, and with a small heart to dot the ‘i’ in her name. Cute, Valarie thought bitterly, a real nice little anniversary present.

She idly wondered if Evan had tried to follow her and get her to come home. For some reason, she hoped he had not, thinking she was not worth his effort. What did the reference to magic and becoming a great magician mean? It was then that the wide array of book topics and even the charts on the wall began to make sense to her. Evan was a scholar of magic, studying every aspect and form related to the subject.

Carefully she refolded the two sheets of paper together. It was easier to pull the paper from the frame than try to push it back under the cover. She feared the glass falling out if she opened the frame to replace the papers. A sudden need to hurry complicated matters for her.

She felt like she had spied upon a very private and painful part of Evan’s life, and felt ashamed of herself. She had no right to know about Cindy. Her cheeks involuntarily blushed with embarrassment. A moan from the bedroom made her abandon her effort, and simply place the papers down with the downturned frame on top.

Evan laid sleeping, restlessly, mumbling something that sounded like a foreign language. After another moment of listening, she decided that it was nothing more than verbalizing a bad dream. She noticed the alarm beside the bed, 4:23 a.m.

“I’ve got to get some sleep. I have to be up in two hours,” she said aloud. ‘Stay’ the one word filled her mind, compelling her.

“I won’t leave you. You need me.”

The bed looked large enough for the two of them, and definitely inviting enough. She laid down, on her side looking at Evan. Minutes later she was asleep.

FIVE

A gust of hot arid air rushed over her body, causing Valarie to open her eyes. She was standing atop a high cliff from which she could see miles of lush green plains below. From this distance, the trees that she saw had to actually be gigantic. Their deep green leaves spreading high above the ground in an almost umbrella shaped canopy. Wind from someplace moved the leaves turning them from the dark green to silver, making the tree shimmer.

The sky was filled with a rolling mass of white billowy clouds, streaked with red and orange making it hard to judge if this was sunrise or sunset. Lightning flashed from cloud to cloud, illuminating them from the inside. But there was either no thunder; or she was too far away to hear it.

A vividly blue stream cut across the valley floor moving from left to right, or was it right to left? Gloriously multicolored birds dotted the sky as she watched them soar.

Another gust of wind tugged at her clothing, making her look down and examine herself. A white soft silk like fabric covered her body in a tunic style dress to her mid-thigh. A slender gold belt pinched the tunic at her waist, while a small gold Greek key pattern ran along the edge. Comfortable brown sandals covered her feet and wrapped up her leg to her mid-calf.

Taking a moment, she examined the ledge upon which she stood. Six to eight feet wide, with a distance of at least a few hundred feet from the rocky ground below when she peered over the edge. The cliff continued behind her, rising another fifty feet. A small lizard scampered across her sandals foot, making her jump with the sudden feeling.

Questions raced through her mind with sudden speed. Where was she? How did she get there? Her hands played with the soft, rich, subtle fabric which caressed her body with each movement. Who had dressed her without her knowledge. Feeling faint from the heat and height, she closed her eyes, wishing that she did not feel so trapped up on this ledge.

When her eyes opened she screamed at the change, but no sound came from her dry throat. Lush green grass brushed against her calves. The wind was now moist with water and carried a fragrant scent her mind could yet identify.

Turning quickly, she surveyed her new surroundings. The cliff was miles in the background. Her eyes followed the sound of water to see the swift flowing water of a river. Tiny white caps flowed from behind the large rocks in the water.

This is just a dream she repeated to herself. Then wondered how you could distinguish that you were dreaming in the middle of a dream? Not knowing where she was, or why she was there, or what she was supposed to do, she did the first thing that came to mind. Closing her eyes, she tapped her heels to each other and said,

“There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home.”

Opening her eyes, she saw she was still standing by the river. She hadn’t really believed that would work. What was happening to her?

Where was she?

Why had her mind taken to this strange and foreign place? The questions thundered in her mind.

Voices, she heard voices. Whirling around she did not see anyone. The voices were there again, at least two distinct voices. She started to run in the direction from which she thought the voices emanated. Although the ground looked flat, she felt the slight raise of the land beneath her feet.

Soon she stood atop a small hill trying to catch her breath. In the next valley stood a grouping of several figures. The voices came again, but she felt so tired. She jumped waving her arms in the air as she yelled to get their attention. None of the figures acknowledged her efforts. She wanted to cry, but instead began to run again, this time downhill.

She ran full out trying to reach the figures in sight. Stumbling on the terrain, she divided her attention between the ground and the figures in the distance. Her breath came in ragged gasps now. When she looked up again, she could discern individual figures.

Evan was standing in the center. She called his name, but he did not react. She could clearly hear his voice, although she had no idea what he was saying. Why couldn’t he hear her? She stumbled again panting for breath. Her knees stung and she started to cry. She wanted to be with Evan.

Tall and sinewy, he stood in the midst of the other five figures. A gold band circled his brow and gold bands circled his wrists, The intricately etched sigils and pattern were clearly discernible in the light.

Bands of silver circled his upper arm and ankles complementing the soft, white subtle silk with the gold belt and a wider gold Greek key pattern than hers. With eyes closed she wished she was with Evan now. When her eyes opened, she was kneeling beside him. Jumping up her arms encircled his neck, his arm going around her waist to pull her tightly to him in a reassuring manner. Finally, she relaxed in his arms, feeling safe.

Evan stood talking to a stunningly beautiful woman and very handsome man. Both dressed in the same silk tunics, except for the edging. Instead of the simple Greek key pattern, the couple had a larger gold Greek key pattern running around the edge, and interwoven was a reverse Greek key in silver. A gold circlet crowned the man, along with wide gold wrist bands. The woman was adorned with the silver bands around her upper arms and ankles.

Three other figures completed the circle surrounding them. The creatures were vaguely humanoid, with oversized heads, large barrel chest covered with a mat of dark hair, a narrow waist and short spindly legs. Their lower jaw jutted out, while large tusk-like teeth curved over their upper lips. Their eyes were narrow and dark, creating the illusion of menace. Dressed in simple unadorned tunics with leather belts, they leaned heavily on the spears in their right hands. They looked like aborations from a nightmare.

As her breath finally returned, a trickle of sweat ran into her eye, burning for a moment. Suddenly she felt very weak, her knees buckling, but Evan’s strong arm kept her upright. She wished for a cooling breeze, like she had felt on the cliff. Then a cooling breeze blew over their bodies. Evan turned his head briefly to smile at her, like he was proud of her for figuring something out. What? What had she figured out?

Then it clicked in her mind, ‘make a wish.’ Every time her position in this dream had changed she had wished for something. Testing her new hypothesis, she wished to be standing beside Evan on her own. Power surged through her body and legs as she released his neck and stood.

Looking over, she studied the goddess-like woman in front of her. Long flowing golden hair framing her face and flowing down onto her shoulders and back. Valarie’s eyes carefully noted her bands’ hieroglyphics and design exactly matched the design on Evan’s bands.

One hand held the hilt of a sword, point down from her hip to be buried in the soft ground. The blade shone as if lightning danced along the edges, with a vertical pattern of more hieroglyphics down the center. Each design glowing as if red hot. The hilt was encrusted with gems in the pummel.

Her eyes sparkled with mirth. Her voice was light and musical, like chimes on a summer breeze. She was finishing her explanation about the power of pure thought directed upon another object.

Evan asked questions, his voice rich with a deep baritone quality, that she did not remember.

The Herculean man standing next to the beautiful woman, added qualifiers to the discussion. He was the tallest member of the party. Muscles rippled as he moved beneath richly tanned skin. The circlet of gold around his head would have been lost in the longish blond hair, had

it not been for the shining sigils and runes.

Similar designs adorned the huge silver breastplate of armor that he wore over his black silk tunic. The sigils and runes etched in the silver band around his thick biceps and ankles pulsed with energy. A wide leather strap crossed his mammoth chest plate going from lower left to upper right ending in a silver quiver with silver arrows. The arrowheads crafted from a milky green jade. His left hand held the largest bow Valarie had ever seen. He was explaining the theory of the different levels of teleportation throughout the universe.

Now that Valarie was standing beside Evan, she felt comfortable as if she always belonged beside him; the natural course of things. Understanding of the theory evaded Valarie, although she paid careful attention. In her mind she repeated every word said by the man, and finally realized that while she knew the meanings of the words, the words were not English.

They stood in the valley talking for what seemed like hours. Finally her stomach growled loudly, and Valarie blushed from embarrassment. The huge lord laughed good naturally, and chided himself for being such a poor host and so inconsiderate to their guests. The three creature around them bobbed their heads in agreement.

The Lady took Evan’s elbow, while the Lord took Valarie’s. The world blurred out of focus as they took only a few guided steps. When her eyes cleared and she could refocus, she was reclining upon several large silk covered pillows around a low vast table burgeoning with silver bowls and platters of food. From fruit and berries to great racks of roasted meat, the table was covered with anything she could desire.

Dazed, she looked at Evan, his head reclining close to her’s. He picked up a plate and started serving her, with some of her input. A dozen black marble pillars encircled the group, extending upwards until she could not see their tops. White diaphanous material hung down from pillar to pillar, completely enclosing the group. When Valarie looked straight up she could see the array of stars in this quadrant of the heavens. The entire area was enfolded in a soft golden glow emanating from beyond the gossamery curtains inward. It was relaxing and comforting, cocooningly soothing.

For the first time Evan spoke to Valarie directly in her dream. She had experienced nothing so far that said she wasn’t. She was dreaming.

“Would you care for some ambrosia to drink?” Evan asked.

“Ooh, yes. Thank you,” came the automatic response.

She was handed a flagon made from a large black horn, with silver chasework along the lip and around the center in two places, allowing the vessel to sit upright.

From outside the gossamer curtains, music began to play. A harp, lyre and flute harmonized to allow the listeners to hear the story that was being played.

In Valarie’s mind she began to see another time, a slower pace to life where magic and religion were one; the center of people’s lives. Priests in dark robes and shrouded faces performed strange ceremonies, invoking the powers and blessing of a pantheon of gods and goddesses.

Valarie ate, drank, and listened to the music lost from the conversation around the table. Try as she might, she could not remember a nicer evening or dream. She was happy, feeling that she belonged here, with them and Evan. She wished that the dream would last forever; reality was overrated.

Yesterday, today, tomorrow, it did not matter when now was because time is a continuum. She would wake in Evan’s bed and it would be morning. Making certain he was alright, she would go back to her apartment to shower and dress for work. Her life would continue as it had: work, home, work, home, work and so on without end. Trying to meet the never ending stream of bills with the never enough money her job produces.

Longing for something different in her life, to add even a little excitement to make her feel something, anything. However nothing was going to change. Ever.

She would live her life without impacting another soul. Then die to be forgotten; her life having meant nothing. She would go to bed at night hoping, praying for the return to this dream as often as possible.

“Our time is growing short,” Evan said.

“You have shared your knowledge freely and we thank you. Yet you have not said why I was called here out of order. Why was there a burning rush to ascend?”

“Indeed, you were called,” the Lord said, “and the need to hurry does exist. The fact that you have not passed the fifth or sixth gate did cause grave concerns. However you found the means to generate the power, if in a somewhat unorthodox manner.”

Valarie watched as one of the creatures placed his head next to the Lady. It’s ugliness made greater by the proximity of her beauty. He spoke in low tones so only she could hear.

“My friend has reminded me that your manner of travel has alerted certain groups of your existence. That has created its own new set of problems. The vast amount of energy you used to transport the two of you has altered the others of your potential and power. Some of these people will be your friends, while others will seek your permanent destruction. I cannot tell you which will be which.”

“It seemed to me that there was a greater danger in not coming,” Evan responded.

“But you have yet to tell me why you called.”

“We called because you are chosen by the Ancient One to receive the Power,” the Lord said.

“Why was I chosen? I am a just a useless neophyte. Surely there are Master magicians older and greater than myself.”

“The knowledge that you possessed prior to your arrival was far more than you give yourself credit for. Now your knowledge is even greater. Allow yourself the credit due to you for your abilities. You were chosen by the Ancient One himself for four reasons.

First is the very nature of your being. He had to select from the race of man on your world.

Second is your ability to learn and envision new ideas. You are not tied to your past since you are self-taught.

Third, you have been to the Dark Gate and know the horrors and evil which dwells within.

Four, your bloodline can be traced back two millennia.”

“Hundreds of thousand millennium ago, the Ancient One had placed your race upon your world. He set us to watch and help your race develop. We can not control or lead your race. We were and are only to teach and advise. This was the Ancient One’s decree, and we obey,” the Lady explained.

“Ages passed and the race of man moved away from natural ways, and forgot that magic even existed. One arose from our ranks, who wished eternal dominance over your race, that your people should serve him for all eternity. He was known as the Dark One. Your race did begin to embrace him as the Ancient One, and this was sacrilege,” the Lord continued.

“A great cosmic battle ensued between us and the Dark One and his minions. Back and forth the battle raged, wrecking havoc and leaving chaos in its wake. It was then that the Ancient One created the Star Gates on the Ladder of Light. Finally the Ancient One entombed the Dark One behind the Dark Gate along with his minions,” The Lady stated.

“The seven Star Gates were established as a path to enlightenment. Any could walk this path to their destiny, but that person, male or female had to initiate each visit. We were no longer permitted to walk the face of your world, or interfere directly. Enlightenment is our only goal. You are free to ask anything of us and we will freely answer as long as the Code has been honored,” the Lord stated with a smile.

“I have read about the Great Casting Down. I admit that I only thought it was folklore. How does the truth of the knowledge affect me?”

“Your dreams of terror and horror are but a fraction of what will happen to your world, and your race should the Dark Gate open to allow the Dark One and his minions in once again,” the Lady warned.

“The Dark One is currently safely locked behind the Dark Gate. According to what I have read and heard at the Gate, he only has dominion over those souls that beseech him in life.”

“The Gate is not secured. It never was fully, and some of his minions are able to pass through the cracks. But not the Dark One. When your moon aligns with Jupitur, Neptune and Saturn in the Northern night skies, then the Gate has a chance to be fully opened from this side. The Casting Down occurs once every two millennia.

It seems that each time the Dark Lord finds a champion to help open His Gate. The next Casting Down will occur in three weeks. If His champion is not stopped, the Gate will open and the Dark One, himself, will once again walk upon the face of your world.” the Lord said, continuing the commentary.

“Three weeks!” Evan said in alarm.

“Yes, and as expected, He does have someone on the outside willing to open the Gate into your world. He was cast down once and the Gate created, but now the time is upon us where His return is feasible.”

“Then you must cast Him down again,” Evan challenged.

“As we have explained,” The Lord said firmly, “we are forbidden to interfere on your world directly. You have been chosen by the Ancient One. He has given you the keys to keep the Gate closed from your world. You are the Chosen One, the world’s champion.”

“And if I fail to find this person, amongst how many billions of people in my world?”

“Then the Gate will open and the Dark One will bring his evil and chaos.”

“I can’t believe this is happening. Why doesn’t the Ancient One prevent the Gate from opening?”

“We can not speak of what the Ancient One elects to do or not do. You have been given the gift of the Power when you entered our Gate. How you use that Power is up to you.”

“But I don’t even know what this Power is, let alone how to use it.” “You will in time,” the Lord answered.

“In three weeks?”

“You have the keys. You have your Other. There will come one from your world that will offer his aid. He is the Guardian to your world for this Star Gate. You will know him by his aura,” and the Lord made a deep blue aura appear beside himself.

“More than this we can not say now.”

Evan fell into silent contemplation.

“Who is this Other,” Valarie asked, the sound of her own voice startling her. She had so many questions that she wanted to ask.

“Why, you are his Other,” the Lady said with surprise in her voice.

“Have you not told her of her importance to you, the abilities that she herself holds, and her place in the coming cataclysm?”

“No, there has not been time since you started to call me to the Gate. Before that point there was no reason to rush the process. Her presence in my vicinity proved to be enough. I had hoped that through the normal course of events, the right path would reveal itself,” Evan explained.

“There is no right time, nor right place anymore,” the Lady continued.

“The natural course of time is about to be twisted and distorted beyond recognition. She will understand and accept her new knowledge. Her new place with you. Her new place in her standing with the Universe. You must give her this opportunity. Her Destiny. You must tell her soon.”

“You must do this so that you are complete. Together, as one, you can prevail,” the Lord said.

“Separately the chances are dramatically diminished, and you both stand in peril of failure.”

“We shall become complete, and she shall know her Truth,” Evan promised.

“Tell me, the quality of your help depends on the quality of my questions.”

Both the Lord and his Lady smiled, knowingly.

“Has the person that aides the Dark One, passed freely through this Gate and may he depend on aid from other Star Gates?”

The Lord smiled in satisfaction.

“Excellent query, this person has never passed through this Gate, only a few of the lower Gates. He no longer honors the Code, so he is barred from returning, or any help from any Gate.”

“What are the keys to my Powers and how do I access them?”

“Only the Ancient One knows since He is the bestower. They are different for each recipient.”

“He has learned much, my husband, and understands even more. This is as far as we may go with him today. Just remember that you may always rely on us as long as the Code stands. We must go.”

“Not yet, please. I still have so many questions.”

“Another time, your bond with this plane is weakening. You must return now.” the Lady said.

“You have passed through the seventh Star Gate. You have use of our knowledge and power, as you are now a Guardian, as all who have passed before you. You are also the Guardian of the Power.

They are both awesome responsibilities.

Honor the Code, and hold it true so our voices will be with you and your Other. Journey well, Yudril and Lithra.”

With that said, the Lord and Lady rose and disappeared through the curtain.

Before the last creature followed the couple out, he turned to stare at Valarie. The name Eracus filled her mind, and the creature seemed to smile before disappearing.

Evan moved his lips close to her ear and whispered,

“It’s time for us to return. Close your eyes and think of where you laid down to sleep.”

Valarie did as asked. Warmth, comfort and happiness washed over her mind. She was content for the time.