The nights grew colder and longer each year and with each passing day. She didn’t know where the endless sun-filled summers had fled, but her world remained the same. Cold and isolated with her research bases. Left alone unless asked to clarify old questions.

The woman who others called Professor and her adopted son called mum, both with degrees of respect, fear and reverence was deep inside a secure location which was located on the outskirts of the city near the mountains.

The entrance was relatively isolated although the path leading up was heavily patrolled with radiation signs warning of dangers.

The department which she had set up and ran for longer than most of her colleagues remained alive was a quiet location, reserved for the researchers who provided the information pored over by analysts and the militant section alike.

‘Professor? We’ve determined that a section of the proto-human population in the Dromor Region believed in the sacrifice of animals and their elde-’

The old woman waved a hand in total disregard. She had entirely rebuilt this department since her entrance and was likely the longest-serving civilian in the history of the present day organisation.

‘Young woman. The Facility had records dating back to before your ancestors crossed the seas on wooden boats. Yes, the knowledge was partially lost but we won the war. I don’t need to hear your newly half-baked opinion on the Dromor Region. I’ve written at least a dozen reference texts on the place.’

‘Yes ma’am. I was told to report that this was linked to the early protocols which you built on.’

Professor Alexa sighed. Once she had created and rebuilt entire containment and restriction sections and her work was handed down to the younger pups who came and went over the years.

Mainly due to the fact that they died of old age and she carried on. Her connection with her adopted son giving her physical form more leeway than it should have otherwise possessed.

Either that or she had been corrupted by various forgotten living myths over the years. She felt a need to pull out a ritual blade, cut into her own arm and let the blood drip to show proof of her own sacrifice.

‘Ma’am?’

She was possibly insane by this point but she managed to at least provide a veer of sanity and a firm degree of self-control. When you fought against monsters you never really became one, you just became a survivor, broken or dead. Two out of three wasn’t bad considering she had her son in her life.

‘Do you know that blood type the elders were Esra?’

‘I, I don’t know ma’am. We’re basing our findings mainly on hearsay these days. The containment protocols that were developed back when human consciousness development were simple but otherwise effective. Did you need me to check it out?’

Professor Alexa sighed. She didn’t know quite when she had reached such levels in the Facility of Myth Reduction that her every word was taken seriously.

‘No. I’m taking a break now. Just leave me alone and good luck with your research. You have potential, just keep an open mind and don’t listen to an old woman too much. Age doesn’t always translate into wisdom.’

Her only source of joy had remained the same all of these years, initially her pet project then her only child and the light of her life. Her only regret was that she had continued to grow old and have the ability to change while he stayed the same, he would never change nor grow old and pale or feel the cold.

Professor Alexa pulled out her security card, granting her clearance into her personal research chambers. These were the one place that she could guarantee peace of mind, only in the case of an extreme emergency was she to be disturbed and left alone with her thoughts.

‘The musings of an old woman’ she muttered to herself under her breath. She didn’t need anyone listening to further question her sanity regardless of the respect that was due her.

Inside the room was a large rotating sealed stone box inscribed with words considered ancient a thousand years ago. The walls covered with sealed boxes, scrolls and books that she had both written and acquired filled organised meal bookshelves along with a pair of humanoid statues that had both been partially damaged.

The bareness of the room resembled her own mind, she disliked excess clutter, this room was for her to either think, work study or be left alone in. Even her closest friend still alive respected that, food and drink were prohibited in this place, even to herself.

She took one of the few chairs that was allowable in her room. She so rarely granted permission for anyone to enter that she didn’t care for the trimmings of comfort.

A simple old hand carved wooden chair, one of a pair, more than suited her needs. She knew that it should have been in a museum but it was one of her earlier finds and even if the value of it was high she still needed a place to sit.

Alexa sat down, feeling her body protest as it settled down. She knew that her appearance didn’t show her true age but sometimes she truly felt it. She sat and looked at the slowly rotating stone cube, it’s size several metres across as it moved through the air in a fixed position with nothing holding it up.

This was her first true find and entry into the world of myth. As a girl she had always dreamed of becoming an archaeologist and finding an ancient burial tomb filled with treasure.

‘I wish all you bastards could experience being locked inside that as you tried with my son. I’m going to find you and lock you all away of cast you out of this world.’

She had told herself the same familiar words over and over when she was in her room, this time was no different as the stone cube failed to respond to her words or shift it’s gradual slow rotations in any form.

An eternal star froze in time like a prehistoric fly trapped in a shard of amber. A beautiful sight to see but eternally the same, ignored by the ravages of time.

‘This is why we don’t need gods interfering with human life. Eternal beings that never change, never learn or adapt to fit the needs of an entire race.’

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The change was, she knew, essential to the growth of all living beings. Without change how could growth take place? A static mindset created conflict both within and without, and conflict would eventually mean war or imprisonment.

Once she had enjoyed their time together, but she realised that it was simply out of her vanity and desire to keep her child to herself. To let him develop she had established a series of rules that would enable him to protect himself and others around him. To err was to be human, to open doors that needed to remain locked was not, even if it was by accident or deliberate design.

Rules. A social environment, love, and attention. Guidance. Alexa had tried to pass all of these on to her only child, in the end, she thought that he deserved a peaceful life, one suited to his abilities but set back enough from social responsibilities that he would never feel pressured or upset.

She had never fallen in love in her life before that moment. Not since she first found her child, lost, and abandoned by an unforgiving world. Never married nor looked for a suitable partner. Her parents had thought her odd how she lacked the inclination for romance, without love she would never give them grandchildren.

She let her body sink into chair looking around her personal work space, the books that she had spent decades researching and writing, the boxes full of archaeological finds that were catalogued and removed from human history.

In truth she had thought of children as a form of legacy, to pass on your beliefs and understandings and provide them with what you lacked. It was the biological process that she was unable to understand. Human contact was not her forte, not because she hated other people, but because she simply felt a distance that could not be measured.

No, it was her work that had driven her. When you realised that you were able to protect entire civilisations and you were the difference between barbarism and an educated society then you would choose to serve humanity.

Suppression of information was the key. A lack of belief and interest focused on the latest technological development had proved the best path to take. All those government agencies passed on their reports and information regarding incidents where it all vanished into a black hole known as the facility of myth reduction.

Her hair now turned mostly grey, and her skin stretched thinner with each passing year. The work had both rewarded her and punished her in equal measure.

‘I’ve become an old woman. Mostly.’

Talking to herself in this room had become a habit. In truth the two statues would have been aware of her conversation if they had been awake. The beings that inhabited them had either starved to near-death or gone insane over the constant interrogation and lack of feeing.

The fact that the stone had even been damaged had been a blessing for her when they had first been found. Rogue power leaked from them, causing both damage and repairing her body and mind.

Curses, prayers, and spells had a lasting impact over the years. Both rewarding and damning in equal measure, to age without getting older, to live beyond your years but you struggled to remember your daily tasks. Pain became a constant companion. A reminder of the battles that she had won and forgotten.

Her friends and colleagues passed into mere mention.

‘And in the end, who’s left? You ancient things, locked away. Got any ideas?’

Professor Alexa wasn’t expecting a response. If she had received one it would mean an immediate and total lockdown of the facility. Armed and equipped soldiers and priests would rush in and the detonation of a weapon of mass destruction a possibility.

Immortal didn’t mean unconquered or unable to suffer or take damage. The broken off parts of the statues showed proof of that.

No, her personal quarters was possibly the most secure location within this base. Any whispers or thoughts which leaked from their dreams would be unable to affect her mental well-being or reach into her soul.

Both her son and her own workings protected her.

She had chosen the name of her child as recognition of his status in the world and in the form of a passing memory that she had of one of her childhood film stars. He had been strong, unrelenting, and punished his enemies. The scene where he had walked away after an attempted ambush by a determined band of tomb raiders had stuck with her. Strong, domineering but at the same time possessed with an innate calmness to overcome trying situations.

It had only been several decades later when she had come closer to the truth after speaking with spirits and shamans that they found that her choice of name was far closer to his real name than she had first imagined. Fate or sincere familial love had given her that much at least.

He had been a scientific impossibility, but she had been determined not to divulge his details to her handlers at the time. The organisation had been in the process of modernisation following a war that had shaken the world. New technologies were replacing the old to make sure that events would not spin out of control and give rise to further conflict and the loosening of old bonds.

Suffice it to say that the facility succeeded in keeping the bonds from being broken but they were unable to stop the war from being waged. They were not the keepers of human destiny, only the ones who made sure that the roof wasn’t torn away from their heads.

In a war that had been waged over millennia, any weapon that would give an edge was immediately possessed, tested, and used against an enemy.

She recalled when she had found him first, she had been oh so young back then. In her mid-twenties at most. Weapons used against her mind had caused her to forget a great deal but never the time spent with him and certainly not when she had encountered him. The decades have flown by as she recalled her precious memories, all she had left really after all this time aside from her strong feelings, determination will and of course the facility.

Alexa found that her child had been possessed by an innate innocence. Isolation and time had stripped him of any guile that he might have once possessed, his nature while not benevolent leaned at worst towards more mischievous concerns. He had learned to pay little tricks of magic when he felt bouts of frustration and annoyance pass over him.

It had been the main reason that she had been determined to identify and establish a series of rules and guidelines with him. One accident had almost destroyed an entire research centre for fear of cross-contamination. The military branches of her organisation had wanted to take Duke away from her, to train him in the ways of war and use him in the same way that any unthinking soldierly leadership would.

Charge him up, arm him and point him at their enemies. If he died or was injured, then so be it according to their beliefs. They only wanted to use up their power to limit or fulfil their paramilitary mission requirements.

How short-sighted they were in their beliefs; it was the extremists in the organisation if she could call them that. They saw themselves as being more pragmatic, destroying and tearing out the roots rather than sticking to the old methods of limitation and isolation.

When you needed to fight darkness and barbarism you needed to use the same heretical tools as them. To defeat devils you could use a tame devil if needed. She knew the risks after the experiments with the statues and the floating stone cube in her chambers had met with high casualties.

Oh, how she had fought back against them through committee meetings and old favours owed through years of work at the facility. The radicals, the militant ones who thought in terms of good and evil.

Her research at the time had been considered too valuable, her mind and body honed to a keen age through protocol development, in-house testing, and fieldwork. She had given her life, her health and most of her sanity to the facility.

All she had asked in return was for her child to be given a safe, boring position in a museum. Money and political power had changed hands and she had succeeded in her initial goal.