 
**Volonians**

_Mysteries of the Vondercrat_

Written by:

Christopher F. Edwards Jr. and Carlos O. Hardy

(C)2013 by Christopher F. Edwards Jr. and Carlos O. Hardy

Edited by: Karen Kungie-Torres

karenkungietorres@gmail.com

Cover Design:

Sherman Lee Waysome and Joshua Briones

All rights foreign and domestic reserved. The scanning, uploading, or distribution of this book or any part thereof via the Internet or any other means without the written permission of the publisher is illegal. This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, or to actual events, is purely coincidental.

**Volonians**

_Mysteries of the Vondercrat_

__

To watch the explosive Volonian

book trailer, visit volonians.com
**Table of Contents**

Carlos' Dedication

Chris' Dedication

Preface

Chapter 1: The Planet Volonia

Chapter 2: The Cutters

Chapter 3: The Shifting of Classes Ceremony

Chapter 4: The House of Lords

Chapter 5: Guardians of Volonia

Chapter 6: Judgments

Chapter 7: The Evil Menace

Chapter 8: The Capture

Chapter 9: Forbidden Love

Chapter 10: Flashback

Chapter 11: The Streak

Chapter 12: Guides

Chapter 13: The Verdict

Chapter 14: Destination

Chapter 15: In Search of a Lord

Chapter 16: The Arrival of Evil

Chapter 17: The Battle for Power

Chapter 18: The Departing

About the Authors

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**Carlos ' Dedication**: I dedicate this book to my four nephews and niece: Shawn, Donvonta, Terrell, Janar and Alexis. My love for you is unconditional. I only want you to remember two things. First, I need you to remember that the only way to live life is to dream big. And second, that the world will only reflect back to you how you feel about yourself. So, let that reflection propel you to understanding and be a guide to where you desire to go. To my family that has always been the center of my drive and inspirations: I appreciate your patience as I went on a journey in search of life's most profound truth. I am thankful that you all understood my desire to find my stride. I've finally found it. For those moms, brothers, co-workers, kids, friends, fans, etc. who happen to come across this book: To you I graciously say thank you. It is my truth that imagination creates worlds and will guide you into the perfect life, if only we will take a moment to imagine the possibilities.

**Chris ' Dedication**: I dedicate this book to my three nieces, Karmyn, Camdin and Kerri, and to my nephew, Jett. Remember that your uncle loves you and that imagination is the portal that unlocks unlimited possibilities. Continue to reach beyond the stars. You can be, do, or have anything you desire. Mom, Dad and Sisters: I love you so much. I finally wrote down all those crazy ideas and put them in this book! To my family- immediate and extended: I appreciate your continued support. You have all helped shaped me into the man I am today. To anyone who purchases this book: Thank you for supporting my dream. These are our thoughts, our imagination, and our love, on display for you to appreciate. We hope you love reading it as much as we loved writing it!

**Preface**

Volonia, considered _The Gold planet_ , sits alone in its own galaxy 30 light cycles away. The surface appears dense, it is roughly the size of Jupiter, and its population is near 10,000,000. The planet's sun, Vamo, sends rays of light down to the core, heating and lighting the planet's massive sectors.

To the naked eye, the gold planet is viewed as uninhabitable, but it is actually home to a populous of magical beings: Volonians, millions of beautiful, charismatic, expressive witches and warlocks. They live _inside_ the planet, hidden beneath the outer surface. The Volonians possess an incredibly versatile molecular structure; they age five times slower than a human.

The Volonians are friendly, joyous and extremely powerful. Their magic is mighty, their spells are rich in tradition, and their rituals stand the test of time. The kingdoms are colorful with a rustic but traditional- almost ancient feel. Upper Volonia is home to the aristocrats; Lower Volonia is where demoted Volonians choose to reside. Volonia's five sectors each have their own way of life. It is every Volonian's destiny to shift in status from class to class, each class shift bringing additional power and understanding of the individual's purpose on Volonia. Every class is distinct in its own way.

Some can levitate, create spells or morph, while others can merely disappear and reappear. The most powerful class on Volonia is Class Eight. If a Volonian is privileged enough to make it to this class, he or she is set among the elite, and his or her magic is enhanced to its peak. Most Volonians use their powers for the forces of good, but others choose to rebel against the House of Lords, the governing body elected to rule and distribute power among the Volonian people.

Currently, The House of Lords has its hands full as it attempts to maintain a sense of democracy in Volonia. The resistance begins as Menace, a rebellious underground leader, amasses a brigade of evil Volonians. His primary focus is to capture the planet's untapped power and harness it to better serve his wicked purpose.

**Chapter 1**

_The Planet Volonia_

A cloud of dust fills the dark, starless sky. A layer of golden dirt covers the planet's surface for as far as the eye can see. The night seems lonely; the foreground is bare and uninviting. It is cold and void of life, and energy seems to be almost forbidden. Not a person, place or thing is in sight.

Arched high above the lifeless surface floats a massive, gold, meteor-like formation. It blares, heating up the dark night. The solid object, strategically placed high above the planet, a single protector of all things, is called Vamo. It is an ancient sun that has shone for billions of cycles. It sits alone, not a single other planet sharing its universe. This warming, golden sun gently lights the dark surface of Volonia, filling the void with a soft, glowing light.

Suddenly a light beam cuts through the darkness- a ring of fire. The ring falls, floating gently from the sky, landing on the dry, rocky surface. The fire morphs into a middle-aged man. Standing alone in the dark Universe is Viscera, one of Volonia's prestigious _Guides_. He stands six feet tall with pale skin and blonde hair. He is impeccably dressed in a white robe and a flowing cape hanging from his broad shoulders. His face wears a look of exhaustion. A black case appears, hovering in the air nearby. Peeking into the case, Viscera is moved to smile slightly, but it is a smile mixed with regret. An electric, oval portal appears in the distance. Viscera takes a heavy breath before reluctantly entering the portal.

On the other side of the portal, he exits into a transit terminal. A few people move swiftly past him, some gliding, others levitating. A bright glow pulsates from the black case; it's energy seeping into Viscera's hand, then to his body. He pauses; his immediate glance at the ground tells us that something's different. Viscera himself lifts from the ground, levitating. "What in the world?" He smiles. The glow ceases and Viscera quickly descends again. "So that's what it feels like?" Viscera strolls through the station, hands firmly gripping the case. He arrives at two 20-foot white doors. He clutches the case tightly as he collects his thoughts; then, he places his hand to a metal square attached to the wall. The doors open slowly. A cloud of smoke rushes into the station. Viscera walks cautiously thru the doors.

A sign reading _Welcome to Volonia_ greets him. He looks out into a plain white sky and allows his eyes to glance out over the beautiful city. The streets are congested with people bustling to and fro, some maneuvering around others who have stopped to congregate haphazardly. Towering buildings command the majestic background and give a sparkling shine to the place. The streets are made of a reddish brick that blends nicely with the surroundings- ancient buildings kept in tip-top shape. Merchants occupy every corner, offering quick spells and magic tricks for all who will stop to hear them. Children perform novice magical tricks on door stoops; some of the children disappear instantly, leaving Viscera with only a lingering smile.

Viscera walks swiftly towards two identical buildings, his head turning from left to right until he chooses the one on the left, Vasquire Towers. It is the tallest building in Volonia and just happens to be Viscera's final destination.

The edifice stands about 10 stories high, the exterior sparkling with a golden sheen as rays from the Volonian sun Vamo beam down through the atmosphere. Viscera pauses, he notices a sea of festive people harmony shifting happily in the street. Harmony shifting is the act of moving your body to harmonies or melodies you enjoy. He tightens his grip on the black case and continues briskly up the walkway. A small boy runs toward him, his small, eager face smeared with dirt. He is dressed in a brown robe that hangs loosely on his frame, and his hat is tilted jauntily to one side. Viscera notices him coming and moves more quickly.

"Sir, may I show you a magic trick?" Viscera walks faster, the boy attempting to keep up with him. Viscera ignores the boy and moves on. Experienced at this game, the little boy disappears and reappears at the door, in front of Viscera.

"How did you do that?"

"That was my magic trick," the boy replies with a smile.

Viscera seems unimpressed, his expression blank. "Okay where is it?" Viscera motions for the boy to hand it over.

"I am not sure what you're talking about, kind Sir." The harried Guide notices a group of the boy's friends waiting in the distance.

"They're waiting on you?"

The little boy hurries to change the subject. "I have another trick for you."

"No more tricks. Hand it over." Viscera kneels down. "Are you telling me that you're a class two warlock?" The little boy attempts to run away, but the power of the case glows brighter again. Its glow is intensifying, and its power is piercing through the hinges of the case. The glow expands its reach, its shine resting on the form of the little boy. Mysteriously, this glow somehow lifts the boy, forcing him to rotate upside-down.

He screams as he dangles helplessly. "I'm sorry, Mister! I admit it! It's a Cearian, given to me by a drifter!" A small device falls from the little boy's pockets while his hands dangle helplessly below his head. Viscera cautiously puts the black case down and steps away. His eyes watch the bright light fading from the case as the little boy tumbles to the ground.

"Thank you, Mister." Viscera reaches into his pocket and hands the little boy one Volo, a coin commonly used for exchange in the Volonian markets. The boy smiles victoriously as he runs towards his friends and into an alley, where they congratulate him and scurry away.

Viscera gingerly lifts the case from the ground, then curiously places it on the ground again, then lifts it again. "That's it? No more magic?" Viscera looks up at the building, picks up the non-glowing case and continues his walk through two large, blue, glass doors, which magically open as he approaches. Two guards holding scepters stand just inside the entrance. They are large for Volonian men, bodies like Nubian Gods, boasting physiques only nature could sculpt: glowing, bronzed skin and rippling muscles spilling through their robes. One of the two guards motions to Viscera to stop. "Welcome back, Viscera. How was the trip?"

"I wouldn't be much of a Guide if I told you," replies Viscera. The guard lifts his wrist, connecting it with Viscera's wrist. An electrical current illuminates from the connection.

"You're cleared. You may pass now." The guard points to Viscera's case. "So is that what I think it is?"

"Yes, this is it. Every new class must get their wings, right?" Viscera picks up his case from the floor and proceeds down a wide hallway. "Is she here?"

The guard smirks, his scepter drawn down to his side. "I wouldn't be much of a guard if I told you."

Viscera smiles and continues down the hallway. His footsteps echo on the marble floors and his eyes wander around the massive space. The walls are lined with paintings of older, ancient Volonian Lords. Viscera stops at a painting to view the image of a man: colorful robe, extremely pale skin, grayish hair, and leaning on a cane. The inscription beneath reads _Greater Guardian Malyan Vulakan_. Viscera bows as if to pay homage to the man in the painting. He then resumes his journey down the long hall.

He eventually turns a corner and reaches another corridor that opens up to be nearly fifteen feet high. He lifts his hand once again, placing his wrist near a metal plate at the door. A voice acknowledges his presence. "Welcome, Viscera. You may enter." The fifteen-foot tall doors open soundlessly and Viscera steps into a smaller room. It is dark, but Viscera places his wrist onto one final metal plate, and a growing portal appears. Despite the intimidating security measures, Viscera walks through with an air of familiarity. The portal leads him into a lobby where four more guards patrol, body types the same as the others- muscular and intimidating. They keep a close eye on the Guide. "Good day." The guards ignore him and stare straight ahead.

A beautiful woman with golden, olive skin and draped in a shimmering, golden robe stands waiting behind a desk. Her hair falls loosely in waves to her mid-back. The two exchange pleasantries. "Viscera."

He nods. "Lola." The woman moves from behind the desk, now standing in front of Viscera. She smiles before extending her hand, her wrist draped in sparkling bangles. Viscera smiles. "No hug? Just, Hand it over?"

Lola smiles and gives in to the warmth of his familiarity. "I'm sorry," she says, embracing Viscera. "I'm glad you made it back." Viscera welcomes the hug.

The guards keep a close eye on the two. One walks over and cautions, "Lola." The beautiful woman lifts her hand regally, assuring him it's okay. "All right, that's enough," announces Lola. She takes a step back and extends her hand toward Viscera. "It was great to see you again."

A bit taken aback, Viscera lifts the case from the floor. "I guess connecting every few cycles isn't so bad." Lola takes the case. Her eyes search the room. She is hesitant. Then she abruptly kisses Viscera on the cheek. "What's that for?" Lola turns and walks toward a door, then playfully turns back to Viscera.

"Just because." She places her wrist near the door. Her bangles send tinkling echoes down the long, narrow hallway.

"See you around?" A portal appears. Viscera lingers for an answer. He stares. Lola steps through the portal and is gone.

Viscera waits an agonizing moment before turning to leave. Suddenly, his patience is rewarded, and Lola pokes her head out of the portal "Yes!" The portal quickly disappears.

Viscera turns, beaming at the guards. "She said yes!" The first guard points to the exit toward which Viscera gladly walks.

On the other side of the portal, Lola appears before a pair of bronze doors. Still holding the case, she pushes them open. The room is oval-shaped and welcoming, with everything neatly in its place and a few pictures hung decoratively on the walls. A beautiful, reddish lounger invites her to the middle of the room, where a table made of clear crystal stands a few feet away. Lola slowly steps into the center of the room and carefully places the case on the crystal table. She then holds out her hand and a square device magically appears. She firmly pushes a button on the device. "Marion, it is here."

In less than a moment an avalanche of golden smoke fills the oval room. A woman nearly six feet tall with black hair to her shoulders magically appears. She is dressed in a flowing white gown. A ruby necklace and matching ring accent her dress perfectly. "Lola, my dear. Where is it?"

Lola's eyes fix on the case. "Just what you ordered."

Marion walks over to the case, her eyes glowing with excitement as she cautiously opens it. A golden light seeps out, illuminating the space around the case. Soon it is nearly blinding, and Lola needs to shield her eyes. "Honey, don't cover your eyes. Accept it, loathe it, be it. The Orb of Vamo."

Lola slowly lowers her hand and gingerly opens her eyes. She allows herself to be immersed in the energy flowing from the case. She finds that she can't move, and tears fall freely from her eyes. "Feels good, doesn't it? Asks Marion. "This is why we are here." Lola's eyes slowly widen as she hesitantly steps toward the case, entranced. Without warning, Marion closes the case. She smiles. "Addictive, isn't it?" Lola, confused, shakes her head, trying to snap out of her trance.

"What was that about?"

Marion whispers, "Power and power only. You may return to Lordess Semelia. Thank you." Marion smiles, closes the case and exits the room without another word.

Viscera exits the building and walks to the bottom of the stairs, seemingly in a daze. He pauses to stare out into the distance when he is shoved from behind. "What are you doing here?" asks Monoia. Monoia is another Guide from Volonia. Like Viscera, he is tall--six-foot two and good-looking, with pale skin and chiseled cheekbones- everything a woman would die for.

Viscera playfully shoves Monoia in return. "This is a pleasant surprise!" The two friends share a quick hug as they make their way to a bench where they sit down. "So where are you now?"

Viscera, a bit reluctant, says, "Promise you won't say anything."

"I promise," replies Monoia. He waits patiently, anticipating Viscera's answer.

Viscera holds up his wrist. "Swear on it."

"You can't be serious. We've known each other for over thirty cycles."

Viscera stands with a look of uncertainty on his face. Monoia stands too, and places his wrist in front of Viscera. "Okay, you got it." The two cross wrists and an electrical current bonds their hands. Their eyes glow for a moment, then return to normal. Viscera sits again, followed by Monoia. "Where are you? Tell me! It can't be that scary."

Viscera crosses his legs. He glances out into the busy Volonian street. "The Cutters."

Stunned, Monoia yells out, "The Cutters?" Viscera rushes to cover Monoia's mouth.

"I knew you couldn't handle it."

Monoia leans toward his friend, their noses almost touching. "Are you talking _Lord Roman Cutter_?" Viscera assents with a nod. "That _is_ big. What's it like?"

Viscera uncrosses his legs and stands. Monoia excitedly ushers his fellow Guide to sit again. "Spill it. Is it fun? Boring? I know you're getting top Volo, right?"

"Yes, yes and yes," replies Viscera. "The family is great, but it's a lot of responsibility."

Monoia pounds his hands excitedly on Viscera's chest. "Are you kidding me? You're set for life!"

"That's not the point," replies Viscera. He slowly starts to walk away, then turns back to Monoia. "This isn't the life I chose, and I'm sure you didn't wake up one day and say, 'Mom, I want to be a Guide for the rest of my life.'"

Monoia shifts his weight as he listens. Then he takes a step towards Viscera, laying a hand on his friend's shoulder. "We can't turn back the hands of time bro'. We are Guides. It pays well, and I'm making the best of it. If things change, great. If not, life goes on." Viscera listens before conceding. His shoulders drop as he exhales.

"You're right. It's just that at a younger age I had big plans for my life.

Monoia gives Viscera's shoulder a firm squeeze. " _Be_ life bro'. Stop waiting for it." Viscera smiles weakly as he lifts his hand. Magically, a Volonian timer appears. "I guess there _are_ some perks to the job: magic on a premium."

The two share a parting hug. "I'm sure I'll see you around," Monoia reassures his friend as Viscera tightly shakes his hand.

"Count on it," smiles Viscera in reply. Then, he dashes over to a stoop where a few people wait. Above the sign reads _Upper Volonia Transit Portal System: Quicker than the use of magic._ With a solemn wave, he bids a final farewell to Monoia. The portal opens, and he rushes in along with a dozen other busy Volonians. Within seconds, Viscera pushes out the other side, exhaling before walking on.

Straight ahead is an expanse of amazing, castle-style homes, each with its lawn manicured to perfection. Some exhibit moats in front, and all display flowers along their walkways. It is a wonderland of beauty. The homes stand three or four stories high; the decorative exteriors are colorful and modern. A few children romp in the street. They are all draped in identical but differently colored attire. Viscera waves to the smaller ones who ignore his friendly gesture and continue playing. A few of them disappear then reappear. Viscera shakes his head in disapproval, as he walks toward one of the homes. Approaching the bottom of a short hill, he waits. He stares into a metal box attached to the castle. He places his wrist near it, and then waits for a response. The petulant voice of an adolescent boy announces, "You're late," followed by a teasing chuckle. Viscera glances up at the house.

"Broc, open the portal." Viscera waits patiently.

A playful voice returns, "What's the magic word?"

Viscera puts his hands in his pocket before responding hesitantly, "PLEASSSE." The boy laughs and a portal appears. Viscera steps inside.

A circular foyer welcomes him. He pauses, admiring the rounded 20-foot ceiling adorned with masterful, detailed moldings. He notices a fragrant bouquet of flowers on a nearby table. He turns and bends down to smell them. "We like fresh!" Viscera yells out, his voice ricocheting off the walls. "Varah? Broc? Shenzara?" Viscera walks into the living quarters, which are massive. A few loungers are set in the center of the room, inviting a conversational mood. A few family photos magically float to adorn the walls.

The same boy's voice startles Viscera. "VU VOSAY, Viscera." Viscera glances around the room, yet sees no one. Then comes the familiar chuckle. "V, you fall for that every time." A boy twelve-cycles old magically appears behind Viscera. He wears a fitted, black robe lined with gold embroidery. His youthful, bronze skin radiates underneath the natural light that spills down from the sky light in the ceiling. His smile is big as can be. He's a few inches shorter then Viscera, though, and a gold streak distinguishes the top of his head.

"VU VOSAY to you as well, Broc."

Broc lifts to his tiptoes. "Well?"

"Well what?"

Broc stands side by side with Viscera, playfully jumping up and down. "Am I getting taller?"

Viscera smiles. "You look the same as yesterday and the day before that." Viscera, obviously annoyed, glances around the room. Broc playfully waves his arms in front of Viscera,

"Are you sure?" Broc brings his hands together into a ball and conjures a spell. "VCO VU CON VCO." A stool appears under his feet. He now stands face to face with Viscera. "How about now?"

"Funny. Someone has finally got that one down," replies Viscera.

"Yes, I've been working hard in school on my spells. My Auduit Alexander is fantastic. You want to see another?"

Viscera shakes his head. "Where's Varah?"

Broc yells out, "MOM!" forcing Viscera's hands to his ears.

An adolescent girl's voice responds in the distance. "Why are you yelling?" Suddenly she appears, the spitting image of Broc. She is petite, with a similar gold streak parting her hair. She wears a black sundress with the same gold embroidery embellishing it. She is the twin sister of Broc. "VU VOSAY, Viscera."

Viscera walks over to the young girl and extends his hand. "VOSAY, Lady Shenzara. Where's Varah?"

She shakes his hand before pointing to the stool on the floor. "Why is that there? I just cleaned in here." Broc laughs as he disappears into another part of the house. "Broc, Broc!" Shenzara lifts her hands and pronounces, "VCO VU CON VCO." In a blink, the stool disappears. "Mom wants you upstairs, Viscera. She's in one of her moods."

Viscera exits the room and walks to the foot of a massive, winding staircase. The handrail is meticulously carved with what appears to be an ancient script. He steps cautiously towards his unknown fate.

At the top of the stairs he hears Broc's voice followed by the usual chuckle. "Don't be scared, Viscera. I have your back." This puts a smile on Viscera's face, and he turns down the long hallway.

Large, double doors await him at the opposite end. Similar to a museum, the ceiling is grand and lofty. Bouquets of flowers are arranged on tables leading up to the double doors. Viscera takes one reluctant step at a time. Magically, Shenzara appears, startling him. "Don't do that."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Did you get my dress from Vameek's?"

"No, I didn't." Viscera cautiously points to the double doors ahead.

Shenzara rolls her eyes. "What did she say?"

"She wants to help you pick it out. It's a big moment."

Shenzara shrugs her shoulders and sighs, "I just can't win. We do this every four cycles. For once I want to make the decision about what I'm going to wear." Viscera barely listens as he hurries away. "Go ahead, take her side." Shenzara disappears.

Viscera yells in the distance "...and I'm not on her side!" He whispers to himself, "I don't even have a side." He walks towards the door and reaches for the knob. But, the door opens effortlessly. He steps into a dimly lit but spacious room. Candles burn, and a trance-like harmony plays softly. A huge byan dominates the room. A byan is a piece of furniture that Volonians sleep upon. Everything is elegant, and everything is in its place. Viscera walks to the center of the room. "Varah, I'm here. But surely you already know that."

The harmony stops. A stunning, middle-aged woman enters from a side room: Varah. Her bronze skin is silky and rich. Her fitted, mocha dress hugs her perfectly, its train flows gracefully behind. Her earrings and necklace are made of crystal, and they shine brightly against her dark hair, which drapes beautifully down her back. A wide, gold streak cascades through her dark tresses from the top of her head. Her hands slide down the side of her curvaceous body. "Why those shoes, Viscera! VU VAMM VU VOLA." Viscera's shoes are magically replaced by a pair more to Varah's liking. She smiles as she walks away. "Much better. You're late."

Viscera opens a folder and gets down to business. "Varah, the Shifting Ceremony is all set. The family is expected to arrive at three, dinner at four, mingling at five, The Shifting at six. She and Lord Roman will share a table with you and the twins and Shenzara needs a dress." Viscera closes the folder. He picks up a vase on a table, holding it up to examine its exquisiteness. Varah places her hands on her hips and walks over to Viscera.

"What was the last thing you said?"

Viscera quickly replaces the vase and takes a step back. "Shenzara needs a dress." Varah folds her arms. She waits silently. Viscera takes another two steps back. "Oh that. Yes. She and Lord Roman are going to share a table with you and the twins."

Varah smiles and says, with a hint of sarcasm in her voice, "Have it changed."

"But the ceremony is in a few days. It's not possible."

Varah walks away. "VU VOLLA VACASA VU."

Suddenly Viscera is suspended several feet above the ground. "Okay, okay! Put me down."

"VU VOLLA VOO VU." Viscera free-falls, stopping only a foot from the ground.

He concedes, "You're a mad woman, but I'll get it done!"

Varah curls her lips into a beautifully sadistic smile. "I'm happy now. See, you do have a side. See you in a few days, Viscera."

Viscera exits the room, closing the door behind him. "I just love being a Guide."

Varah's voice echoes from the other side of the door, "I heard that."

A defeated Viscera retreats down the long, empty hallway.

**Chapter 2**

_The Cutters_

A few days' later, Broc dashes into the castle, eyes wide, a scroll clenched in his fist. "It's here! It's here!"

"You act as if it doesn't come every four cycles," Varah drones.

Shenzara comes out of her room attempting to keep her excitement in lady-like check. "What does it say, Broc?"

Broc throws the scroll in the air where it freezes, unfolding in front of them. "I love when it does that," Broc says, smiling at Shenzara.

"I'll read it," Shenzara offers, not expecting to be challenged.

_Greetings Cutters,_

_The Lords of Volonia invite you to the Shifting of Classes Ceremony_. _This cycle, two Volonians in your household will be shifting to Class Three: Twins Broc Roman Cutter and Shenzara Lyla Cutter. The festivities will take place promptly at 3:00 p.m. You will be seated at the Lord 's Table. Congratulations on a job well done, and we hope you look forward to all the magic that Class Three has to offer._

_Sincerely,_

_The House of Lords _

Varah sits in an exquisite chair gazing intently into her vanity mirror. Her dark brown complexion stares back at her, frustration written all over her face. "VENYATI VUP," she utters. As if moving of its own volition, her hairbrush rises from the counter and begins brushing her long, silky tresses.

Her daughter, noticing the disturbed and puzzled look on her mother's face, asks, "What's wrong, Mom?"

Varah replies, "It's the Shifting of Classes Ceremony. I abhor them. Witches and Warlocks from all Sectors of Volonia gather to celebrate the shifting to a new class, and I'm so over it. This is my eighth cycle. I'd rather go on vacation." She waves her hand and her Vinyen bottle, rises to pour her a tall, full glass. It then replaces itself back to the table as the glass lifts and makes its way to her already-opened hand. Vinyen is Volonia's most prestigious and relaxing spirit. Contemplatively, she swirls the goblet in her hand and then takes a few long, deep drams. "I am a Class Six witch, yet I know all the spells of Class Eight."

Shenzara breaks into the maelstrom of her mother's reflections. "But Mom, you have to go. It's mandatory!"

Varah rolls her eyes. "I know. VENYATI VOWN," she utters. The brush halts in mid-air and floats away to place itself back on the vanity counter. "Unless I come up with some alternative," she continues, the hint of a grin sneaking upon her face.

Shenzara says, "Oh no, that look brings trouble."

"It's only trouble if you get caught." Varah rises abruptly from her chair and begins rummaging through the books on a wall shelf, clearly trying to locate a spell to absolve them of attending the mandatory Shifting of Classes Ceremony.

While Varah continues her search, Broc enters through the solid marble double doors. Shenzara says, "I see you're still using your Volos to buy those cheap magic tricks from the drifters." She jibes openly at her brother.

Broc retorts, "You're just upset that you can't walk through solid objects. Cool, huh?" He stands half-way through the door, part of his body visible in the room, and half of his body invisible, still inside the door. As he moves to bring the rest of his body forward, he finds himself stuck. "What's happening?"

"I warned you about buying those cheap spells. It's wearing off." Shenzara laughs tauntingly.

Broc, suddenly panicked, yells, "Zara, this isn't funny! He said it would last for twenty minutes!"

"More like two minutes."

Varah, completely agitated, waves her hand at the door and growls, "VANDUCIO VAMOON." As though shoved by some unseen force, Broc barrels through the door, almost hitting his face on the floor. Infuriated, Varah spits out a spell, "VAHELIA VLEAXAR!" and turns her son upside-down in midair, allowing everything to fall from his pockets.

Broc yells, "Mom! Put me down! Put me down! I promise I won't buy those spells anymore!"

Varah replies calmly, "As you wish." She does all this without laying an eye on him. She is still rummaging through the hundreds of books on her shelf, trying to find a way out of the Shifting of Classes Ceremony. "VENYATI VOWN," Varah chants, and Broc falls into a chair, his robe now disheveled, Shenzara laughs, enjoying her brother's humiliation. Varah cuts her daughter a look, causing her to cease immediately. Suddenly, Varah's eyes light up, illuminating a nearly lost memory of an incantation. She strides to the center of the room and begins chanting words that Shenzara and Broc have never heard before. Her facial expression contorts as she struggles to remember the words.

Broc whispers to Shenzara, "What is she saying? Why is she closing her eyes?"

Shenzara whispers back, "All I know is that she has been ranting about finding a way to get out of the Shifting of Classes Ceremony, and I think she just found it, judging by the way she's chanting now."

"I've never heard her chant words like that... or look so entranced," says Broc.

Varah stands fixed in the middle of the room. Her long, flowing hair begins to rise from her head, its golden streak glowing. Following the rise of her hair, her entire body ascends in a vertical lift, feet slowly leaving the floor, higher and higher as she recites the spell, "VAMBULA AMIRE VONACCIO VOUD. YOU WERE ONCE HIDDEN, BUT NOW YOU HAVE BEEN FOUND! VASCIAGO ADU ANADA ADER. ANCIENT BOOK OF VOLONIA PLEASE COME HERE!" Immediately, a fiery red and yellow portal begins to form, circling counter-clockwise and growing larger with each rotation. The ground begins to shake, books fall from the shelves, walls crack and gusts of winds blow through the windowless room, shuddering everything in the place.

"What's happening?" shouts Shenzara, barely able to hear her own voice in the chaos surrounding her.

"I don't know!" hollers a frightened Broc, grabbing hold of the velvet lounger that his sister is already gripping with all her might. The twins try to keep from being swept into the portal that their mother summoned. Objects begin to swirl around the room. Varah is completely entranced, a golden glow surrounding her. All of a sudden a gigantic book, nearly two feet long and at least 6 inches thick, floats from the fiery portal and makes its way directly across the room toward Varah. She holds out her hand, and the book floats closer toward her. Once the book is inches from her grasp, she begins to descend. The wind quickly ceases, and her hair falls back into place, flowing beautifully as it was before the spell.

Gradually the portal closes, growing smaller and smaller until it simply is no longer there. Varah opens her eyes, unable to believe what she sees. Gold light shines from the massive book, revealing the bold, dark lettering embossed across the front: VONDERCRAT.

Broc yells out, "THE VONDERCRAT! THE VONDERCRAT!!!! Mom, how did you do that? I mean... it's impossible!" Completely puzzled and afraid, he collapses onto the same lounger that kept him from flying into the portal. He places his hands on the sides of his head and says in disbelief, "I can't believe this is happening. I can't believe this is happening. I can't believe this is happening," over and over.

Varah, still in shock herself, shushes him without taking her eyes off the book. "Calm down, Broc! Lower your voice. Do you want us to get caught?" Varah, her gaze broken by her son's hysterics, looks around the room and notices Shenzara looking perturbed. She asks her, "Are you alright?" She walks over to console her daughter, who looks at her mother in awe, her hand covering her mouth in disbelief. "Shenzara, say something."

"Mom, you've got to get that book out of here. If the Lords find out..."

"They won't find out." Varah whispers.

Then, without warning, a loud voice booms from within the book, "Lords, what is your request?"

Shenzara and Broc, taken aback, look to their mother. They wait for her to respond, to do _anything_... to make her request known. Varah, clearly taken aback herself and unprepared for this question, opens her mouth as if to utter some words, but no sound comes forth.

The VONDERCRAT repeats, "Lords, what is your request?" Broc and Shenzara, immobile, stare at their mother, but she merely shrugs, dropping her arms to the sides of her elegant but somewhat disheveled mocha dress. The glow from the book dissipates as the book drops to the floor, making a thud that echoes throughout the room. The three look at each other, unsure of what to do next or who should do it. Their silence is broken by a loud knock on the door, startling them.

"Who is it?" shouts Varah.

"Viscera," the voice outside of the door replies.

"Hide the book!" Varah hisses. Broc and Shenzara don't move, still frozen in shock at what has just occurred. Varah shoots a look that carries with it all the evil a mother's stare can convey.

Suddenly released from his paralysis, Broc grabs at the book, trying helplessly to move it. "It's too heavy," he protests.

Shenzara shakes her head at him in complete disgust. "VAVENTI VIDE," she pronounces. The book rises and slowly floats toward the closet. "Open the door, Broc. You know our spells aren't that strong."

"Sorry," Broc says with a sneer. "VAVENTI VOVEN," he says, and the closet doors open. The Vondercrat slowly floats into the closet. Varah, who is clearly annoyed with the pace at which her children are moving, waves her hand and the closet doors close with a bang. She looks around the room. It's in complete disarray.

"VAVENTI VEEN." The books replace themselves to their rightful places on the shelf; the cracks in the walls close themselves, and the furniture pieces return to their original positions. Varah gives the room one final, surveying glance. Everything looks normal. Shenzara and Broc nod their head in approval. "Come in, Viscera."

The Guide walks in, looking cautiously at the faces of the family. "Is everything okay? I heard a lot of noise, so I decided to check on you."

"Everything is fine; the children are just excited about the Shifting of Classes Ceremony," Varah replies with an expertly feigned composure. Viscera turns his head to see Broc and Shenzara sitting tensely on the edge of the lounger, smiling a bit too brightly, revealing their beautifully white teeth. "You know how they are, Viscera," Varah continues, adjusting her dress in a full-sized mirror. "Is there anything else we can help you with?"

"I also wanted to inform you that I fixed that seating error, and that we leave for the Shifting in thirty minutes."

"I'm aware of the time, Viscera," she points out condescendingly.

"All right, just doing my job. See you in thirty minutes."

"Viscera?" Varah calls after him.

"Yes, Ms. Cutter?"

"Thank you." She smiles a half smile, hoping her second dismissal will allay his suspicions.

"Good day, Cutters." Viscera bows slightly as he exits the room.

Broc rises quickly from the lounger and declares, "I'll have no part in this. I've heard about this book from Auduit Alexander. Only the Lords and Guardians can get their hands on it. No Volonian has ever conjured this book! Besides, I passed my exams; I want to go to the Shifting. It's not our fault that you're not shifting to Class Seven."

Shenzara yanks him by his robe, attempting to let him know that his mouth has just gotten the better of him.

Varah sneers, "I did advance! Your father's veil happened to be my Auduit for the exam! She did something to manipulate the results. I just know she did!"

"Olivia? Mom, you must be kidding. She always prepares those warm, delicious, melt- in-your-mouth, light, fluffy Vandicups, and, she's so kind to us!" protests Broc. Shenzara nudges Broc and whispers, "Haven't you got a clue, brother? That's a fight you don't want to start."

Varah smirks at her son and says sarcastically, "Don't worry Broc, I'll have you back in time for your shift to Class Three so you can move a few more objects." Broc doesn't crack a smile. "Lighten up. The book is here now. I just want a break. We deserve a break." Varah straightens her shoulders and calls, "Shenzara! Bring me the Vondercrat. Let's see if we can find a way out of this Shifting. Hurry, time is of the essence."

"VAVENTI VOVEN," says a reluctant Shenzara. The closet doors open obediently. "VAVENTI VISE," she continues, commanding the book to float toward Varah, who grabs the weighty volume and examines it. She attempts to open it, but it won't yield. "What's wrong with it?" she protests. "There is no way to open it." Struggling to turn the tome around, she shakes the giant book, but it's shut tight. Her children stare, amazed at their mother's futile efforts to maneuver it.

"Why don't you try speaking to it? It spoke to you," offers Shenzara.

Varah nods at her daughter. "That might work." She takes a deep breath. "VAVENTI VOVEN." The book lays, motionless. Broc, growing amused, begins to laugh. "Is something amusing?" Varah crosses her arms, her eyes focused on Broc.

"It's just kind of funny that you can conjure a book nobody has ever conjured in all of history, but you can't open it," he replies. Shenzara smirks in agreement.

"Oh, you think it's amusing too, Zara"?

"Well, I mean, he's correct, Mom."

Varah angrily heaves the book at Broc. "How about you give it a try, Mister Class Two?"

Broc catches the book, but the weight of it sends him staggering backward across the room, and his smile quickly fades. He gets up, dusts off his robe, and shoots his mom a haughty look. "I'll just give it a try, then."

Varah and Shenzara whisper between themselves, giggling like two school girls. "Go ahead, Broc; open the book," his sister taunts.

Broc shoves the book with all his might and slams it down on the desk next to him. He looks at his mother and sister, his eyes boring into them with a devilish glare. Then, he lowers his face until it is close to the book and he says, "VONDERCRAT OPEN." The book rises from the desk and a golden light illuminates its cover.

"Lords, what is your request?" The book calls out. Varah and Shenzara abruptly stop laughing. Broc backs away from the book to stand with his sister behind Varah.

"Say something, Mom, before it closes again," Shenzara rushes to say.

Varah moves to stand before the book, this time mustering complete confidence, and says, "DUPLICATION SPELL!"

"She has gone completely mad today. She knows that's forbidden!" Broc shouts. He begins hitting his head against the wall.

"Life as we know it is over," Shenzara murmurs.

With a power all its own, the book opens and its pages begin to turn rapidly. Quick as a blur, the pages fly until suddenly they come to a stop on page 226. Varah walks closer to the book. She reads the spell at the top of the page: "DUPLICATION."

Shenzara comes to her wits and lunges at Varah, trying to pull her mother away from the magical book. "Mom, no! Not that spell!!" Varah is so completely entranced in the words of the spell that she cannot feel her daughter pulling her, nor hear a word she speaks. The lights in the room mysteriously dim; objects float, and Varah's eyes transform from their naturally gorgeous hazel to a deep, dark blue. Her hair begins to rise with a strong wind that mysteriously blows through the room.

Shenzara grabs Broc. "What is wrong with your mother?"

Broc looks at her, stunned. "Now she's _my_ mother?" he asks.

Oblivious to their distress, Varah recites the Duplication Spell. "ASPARA HADULT VANDIMIR PAPUR. CREATE ALL THREE A REPLICA ILLUR EXACT HEIGHT, WEIGHT, PERSONALITY AND STYLE. VAMURI ANDAMA VEYUMPT VILE." A huge cloud of smoke appears as the book closes, and Varah falls to the floor, unconscious. Broc and Shenzara rush toward her, grabbing their mother's hands, shaking her, trying to wake her.

"Mom!" shouts Shenzara and Broc in single, panicked voices.

"Are you okay? Wake up! Get up!" pleads Broc, shaking her vigorously. Varah slowly opens her eyes.

"Did I do it?" she mumbles, her speech slurred. They look up and see that the smoke is beginning to clear.

Shenzara screams, "Aaaah!" Broc's mouth drops open. Varah, realizing what she is seeing, feels a sudden surge of energy.

"I did it! I did it!"

They watch. Stepping from the cloud of smoke are exact replicas of the family: Varah, Broc and Shenzara. The six of them stand, face-to-face.

Broc, suddenly more curious than frightened, walks around his duplicate and says, "This is creepy."

As though on cue, his duplicate then walks around him and repeats, "This is creepy." Excited, Broc shouts, "He sounds like me!"

Again, his duplicate repeats his phrase verbatim. "He sounds like me!" prompting Broc to turn to his mom. "Make it stop."

"Make it stop," Broc's duplicate repeats. Broc walks and stands next to his mother. His duplicate reproduces his action and goes to stand next to the duplicated Varah. Varah chuckles. Her duplicate does the same. Shenzara stands frozen, her hands covering her mouth, revealing her obvious shock. Her duplicate mimics the gesture. "VUME," Varah says, and the duplicate suddenly change from being full of life to motionless, almost wax-like.

"Mom what did you just do?" asks Shenzara.

Varah gives her customary smirk in reply. "I just quieted the duplicates; they were starting to annoy me. Now, why don't we just go to the Isle of Waterfalls?" Varah announces, completely pleased with herself.

"The Isle of Waterfalls?" asks Broc, a hint of excitement in his voice. "We haven't been there since we were small! Mom, can you do levitation spells so that Zara and I can fly through the waterfalls?"

"No need for levitation spells. The Isle is the one place were all Volonians can fly, levitate and breathe under water," replies Varah.

"Fly," says Broc wistfully, clearly beginning to enjoy the idea of a vacation. Shenzara interrupts, "Hello? Am I the only one freaking out here? Mom, how is this going to work? I mean, what is your plan? This is against Volonian Law! And Broc! I can't believe you. Mister 'I want nothing to do with this,'"

"Zara, come on! That was before she mentioned Isle of Waterfalls! We might as well go."

Varah interjects, "The duplicates are going to go to the Shifting of Classes Ceremony while we go on vacation."

"Mom, people will know," protested Shenzara.

"No they won't," Varah retorted.

"Well, can you explain how this works, then?"

"Gladly. We just have to program our duplicates with enough responses."

Shenzara interjects, "But Mom, we only have ten minutes."

Varah smiles knowingly. "Shenzara, why do you underestimate your mother, my love?" Varah shakes her head teasingly, a mock-disappointed expression on her face. She chants, "VONYOLO VADULT," and out of thin air a small, silver book appears and falls into her hand. The words VANDAR are embossed on the front. "This little volume contains every word that has ever been uttered in Volonia. All I need to do is place each duplicate's hand on this book, say a few magical words, and the duplicates are ready to jingle and mingle inconspicuously with the most crafty witches and warlocks of Volonia." Varah walks up to each duplicate, and, in turn, places his or her hand on the book and says, "VALADI VUM." Immediately the three duplicates transform from completely motionless to conversing as if they were the Cutters themselves. Their facial expressions change appropriately, along with their posture.

Viscera's voice shouting through the door confirms the need for urgency. "Three minutes till departure!"

Varah whispers, "Stop the nonsense now; we don't have time."

Broc interjects with, "But Mom, my duplicate _does_ need a new robe."

"And mine needs a new dress," adds Zara."

Varah shakes her head. "VAVENTI VON VUMAS." Their duplicates' clothing transforms before their eyes. Shenzara's duplicate is now clad in a shimmering purple gown draping nearly to the floor with her hair pinned up, the golden streak curled and hanging in a perfect ringlet. Her entire presentation sparkles with purple gems. Broc's duplicate is clothed in a handsome silver cloak embroidered with purple stitching. It hangs gracefully down to the hem of his pants, only millimeters from sweeping the floor. His own golden streak is combed smooth, flattering the left side of his head. Varah's duplicate wears purple diamond studs in her perfect ears; her hair is swooped up to the left to show off the glittering stones. Her prominent, golden, Volonian streak glows against her thick, dark mane. A seemingly fluid, silver gown hangs off her delicate, brown shoulders and plunges into a backless V, gliding over her womanly curves.

The three give themselves one final, approving glance. Varah, pleased with their appearance, declares, "Perfect. Are you kids ready for three hours of fun?"

Broc responds with an enthusiastic, "Yes!" while Shenzara only shakes her head in disapproval.

Varah caresses her daughter's well-coiffed locks. "Everything will be all right."

"Mom, we will be back in time to Shift, right?" asks Broc.

Varah responds. "Yes!" I'm setting our timer for three hours."

Varah begins her incantation. "VOSSY VEDU MINKA VALAX, TAKE US TO THE ISLE OF WATEFALLS FOR THREE HOURS AND THEN BRING US BACK!" Varah, Broc and Shenzara immediately disappear. The duplicates remain and look up as Viscera knocks on the door.

Varah's duplicate responds with a pleasant, "Come in." Their Guide enters, impressed that the usually difficult family is ready to go, and pleased with how immaculate they look.

He bows and says, "After you." The duplicates parade out of the room, Viscera following them to the Shifting of Classes Ceremony.

**Chapter 3**

_The Shifting of Classes Ceremony_

As Varah, Shenzara and Broc arrive at the Isle of Waterfalls, a spectacular sight comes into view. Thundering, towering waterfalls surrounded them. As the family allows their eyes to move upward, they appreciate the majestic height of the falls- each over one hundred feet tall. As their eyes follow the vertical splendor, they see that farther above them the sky is a mixture of various colors; some parts each of orange, red, green, blue, and purple. Through it all, Vamo is shining brightly, lending an iridescent hue to the entire picture. In the pool, where the falls release their waters, the view is so clear they can look down and see ten to twenty feet below. The pool is filled with a multitude of children of various ages, all enjoying what the island has to offer. The Cutters are amazed at the beauty around them. "Mom, aren't these children supposed to be at the Shifting? I thought we would be the only ones here," asks Broc.

Varah laughs, "No Broc, the Shifting is just for our sector. There is a different Shifting Ceremony for every sector."

"Auduit Alexander must have prematurely advanced you, because that was covered when we shifted to class two," Shenzara adds, disappointed in her brother for the question he has just asked.

"Zara, let's not make jokes; how about the time, you couldn't name all the Lords and Lordesses? And the name you forgot was your own FATHER!"

"I did not forget it! I didn't think they wanted me to say my own father's name. I mean, really?"

"Stop it you two. We're supposed to be having fun, and we only have a limited amount of time."

"You're right, Mom," Shenzara says as she turns her attention away from Broc and his sticking-out tongue. "This place is more beautiful every time we come."

Varah looks at her daughter and says, "Shenzara, you haven't been here since you were a child; of course it's more beautiful. You've become more beautiful, and it's a reflection of you. The Isle of Waterfalls is an enchanted place. The Guardians believe that every Volonian deserves to feel special, worthy and loved, and so as a gift from the Guardians, each Volonian receives an O _mn_ when they are born."

"A what?" says Shenzara?

Broc explains. "It's a special place that every Volonian has, like a fortress, where they keep precious possessions like memories, harmonies, and special belongings. It's a place where they can be reminded that no matter what's going on in their life, they are loved."

"That is correct, Broc," says Varah. "Someone has been listening to Auduit Alexander after all."

"Visch," Shenzara whispers.

"Mom! Did you hear her? She swore at me!" Broc points his finger at his sister and looks at his mother for vindication.

"What did you say, Zara?"

"Nothing," she says with scorn.

"Be nice, Zara," warns her mother. She looks at both of them and then continues. "All the waterfalls flow into the same abyss of water. It represents the uniqueness of us all, but it also shows our unity as well.

"How do we find our Omn?" asks Broc.

Rather than answer, Varah smiles and replies, "How do _you_ think?" Knowing there will be no answer from her children, she begins to chant. "VANDUCIO COMER VONDO VAMISH VARAH." The waterfall in front of them parts down the center. "Hold my hands, you two," Once they are all three standing together, Varah chants again. "VENYATI VISVERE." Immediately the three are standing inside Varah's Omn. "This is my Omn from the Guardians, my place of refuge, completely protected by them. No one can come here without my permission. The same goes for every Omn here. It is unlocked only by its owner." Broc and Shenzara walk around their mother's Omn, their mouths dropped open. It is a spacious place, the size of a small castle. Purple curtains hang in the living quarters to cover the massive window. The ceiling is made of glass, and the colorful sky is visible above.

"Broc, come here!" Shenzara shouts. She is looking out a window, staring at herself ten cycles older. She sees her reflection morph into a fierce ball of fire. "Broc! Can you see me levitating?" Broc looks out through the same window, but all he can see is an expansive buffet of food, the table stretching as far as his eyes can see.

"What are you talking about, Zara? All I see is food. Cakes, candies, pies, and Vandicups!" Broc licks his lips.

"Mom? Why can't Broc see me? I can't see any food."

"This is the window of desire; you see whatever you desire. No two people see the same thing because they don't desire the same."

Broc turns to his mother, "Does this window produce smells too? What is that amazing aroma?"

Varah forces a slight smile, "No those are the puffstries my mother used to make.

"So you can relive old memories in this place, too?"

"Yes. This place can be whatever you want it to be. You can program it to be whatever you desire as long as it brings a feeling of joy. No evil can reside in your Omn, because the Guardians protect it. Your Omn can play your favorite harmony, or better yet, your favorite entertainer can perform the harmony for you. It's all an illusion, but it feels incredibly real. The catch is that you can only stay for a limited amount of time. This is a place of refuge, solitude and fun. It's not meant to replace your current reality; it's only meant to enhance it."

"I can't wait to program my Omn," Shenzara says dreamily.

"She finally comes around to enjoying herself?" Broc says sarcastically.

"Well, we're here; we might as well make the best of it," she replies.

Then Broc, at last warming up to the idea of enjoying the place with his sister, says, "Let's jump in the water, Zara. Look at the other kids flying through the waterfalls. How much time do we have, Mom?"

"Two and a half hours, so enjoy yourself! VAVENTI VOVEN!" The waterfall behind them opens again, ushering them out toward the multitudes of children and their joyful noises.

Broc and Shenzara get a running start. "VAYENTI VUMRESS!" and they are immediately changed from their robes to their swimming attire, and they are flying through the waterfall.

Varah is thrilled to see her children finally enjoying themselves, but she also is a bit unsettled about all that has happened within the last hour. She realizes that she can't seem to relax. She pronounces the words,"VENYATI VOP," and a Vop cast appears, suspended in midair. It is a magical device in the shape of a small sphere that sees into any place and time. She speaks into it. "Varah, Broc and Shenzara at the Shifting today."

"Data not available," the sphere responds back to her. Puzzled at the response, Varah looks quizzically at the Vop cast. She realizes her mistake, nods her head, and speaks again. "Duplicates of Varah, Broc and Shenzara Cutter at the Shifting of Classes Ceremony today."

Immediately the Vop cast shows the duplicates. She is astonished at how well they are performing their roles. Curious about how seamlessly they are interacting, she decides to watch them from the Isle while the kids have fun, just to make sure everything goes according to plan.

"Attention. Attention. Witches and warlocks from 5th Sector of Volonia," says Marion Buloya. "I need Class Ones to proceed to level one and all other classes to follow close behind." The __ Vasquire, the hall where the Shifting of Classes Ceremony is held, is crowded with thousands of witches and warlocks trying to make their way to their designated lines to be able to proceed to their appropriate levels. The Cutter duplicates proceed down the congested hallway to collect their round table badges.

Lola walks over and hands Marion a roster for the shifting ceremony, then exits. Varah's duplicate is stopped by Marion. "VU VOSAY, Varah."

"VU VOSAY, Marion. I am here to pick up our round table badges."

Marion turns around and eyes the badges floating in the air behind her, her glasses nearly slipping off her nose. "Sorry Varah, I don't seem to have a badge for you," she points out.

"What do you mean I don't have a badge?"

"I see my badge," Broc's duplicate pipes in as his badge separates itself from the multitude of others hovering in the air and floats toward him.

"There's mine," Shenzara's double adds, and her badge floats over and easily attaches itself to her beautiful dress.

"How can I not have a badge? I'm the ex-veil of a Lord!" protests Varah.

"Well Varah, I'm sorry to inform you, but the only way you can get to the round table is to be the current veil of a Lord or to be a child of one of the five Lords. Unless.... Unless a Lord personally adds you," whispers Marion subtly to Varah.

Seemingly from nowhere, a cloud of purple smoke appears. As the smoke dissipates, Olivia stands before them. She's the same height as Varah. Her caramel skin glows, and her hair is pinned up with a few sleek tendrils falling alongside her face. She seductively struts over toward Varah, hugs her without actually embracing her, and, in a voice dripping with artifice, says, "It looks like my Roman forgot to add you to the list. I am ever so sorry."

Varah whispers, "I wouldn't bet against me too quickly, Olivia."

Olivia, seeing Broc and Shenzara approaching, changes the subject. "VU VOSAY Broc, you're looking as handsome as ever, just like your father." Broc tries to keep from blushing. "And Shenzara, you look so pretty! That dress is absolutely lovely."

"Thanks," Shenzara mumbles, trying not to show too much excitement in front of her mother.

"Shall we be off to the round table, then?" says Olivia to Broc and Shenzara.

Broc hesitates and asks, "What about Mom?"

"Go on ahead," says Varah.

"Are you sure?" chimes in Olivia, attempting to sound truly concerned.

"I'll be right behind you. I'm sure this is just a small mix-up. Marion will find the badge." Marion tries to nod her head, but she is completely flustered. Broc and Shenzara reluctantly follow Olivia to the table. Varah notices her badge floating a few feet away. She snatches it out of midair. _Varah Cutter,_ _Guides Table 23_. "Guides? Oh no!" A smirk flashes across her face before an idea comes to her. She smiles and then whispers, "VOS VAMUS VONDU," and immediately before her hangs a badge with the words _Varah Cutter, Class, Six,_ _Round Table_ clearly printed on it. "Marion, I think I see my badge right over there."

Marion looks up in amazement and says, "Ms. Cutter, I am so sorry! I don't know why I couldn't find it. How could I have missed it? Please proceed to the round table, and please accept my sincerest apologies."

"Thank you," Varah replies, with an air of icy confidence in her voice. Her badge magically attaches itself to her dress, and she begins her stately walk down the long corridor toward the round table.

Varah is in awe of the beauty in this corridor. The floors are transparent, so she looks down and sees other Volonians harmony shifting and enjoying the festivities on a lower level of the Vasquire. Around the hall, fifty-foot pillars spaced every five feet support the Vasquire's lofty ceiling. Plastered in front of her on a mural are Volonia's three ancient Guardians. She stops and curtsies in reverence. As she approaches the grand room, the harmonies grow louder, and she finds that the awkward discomfort of the past few minutes is quickly becoming a hazy memory. A one hundred-piece orchestra plays her favorite harmony, "Only". She hears the Polian solo- her favorite part. A Polian is a popular Volonian instrument. As she pauses to enjoy the harmony, an incredible aroma of food begins to tease at her nostrils, drawing her further down the corridor and toward the magnificent double doors. She feels giddy, as though it is her first time at a Shifting. Two doormen, each one standing over six feet tall, bow and gracefully open the door for her. Upon entering, she notices her fellow Volonians partaking in the festivities. She admires the decorations arranged so elegantly. Many are harmony shifting; some are eating; others are laughing. All appear to be enjoying themselves enormously.

"Mom!" Broc's voice calls to her over the din. "Over here!" He motions her toward the round table were all the Lords' families are seated.

"Roman..." whispers Olivia, "how did she get through? I thought we discussed this."

Lord Roman, a bit taken aback, replies, "I assure you, Darling, I had no part in this. Varah is a Class Six, so she can meddle her way into many things."

"Play nice, my dear," Olivia purrs in his ear while glaring disapprovingly at Varah.

"Varah, dear, it is so wonderful to see you here." Lordess Raven stands and gives her best friend a hug. She is a tall, slender woman, a few inches taller than Varah. Her beauty is exotic. Her skin is a soft, almond color and her long, wavy, brown hair is pinned up, an elegant departure from its normal arrangement of hanging loosely to her waist. "Your dress is spectacular; is it a Valadine original?"

"Why yes, it is Lordess. You always informed on our latest fashions."

Lordess Raven smiles with approval. "Broc and Shenzara, are you two excited about shifting to Class Three? I heard you both passed your exams with exceptional scores!"

"Thanks! We're very excited. Mom really makes us study, and she does a great job at making sure we meet with our Auduit every day."

Broc nudges his sister. "Suck up." He hisses at her.

"I do my best," she says, forcing a smile back.

"Has the Kutler come to our table?" asks Varah.

"I want Vandicups!" says Broc, licking his lips in anticipation.

"We are about to place our request. VAYENTI VORDERTI," pronounces Lord Vondell. Lord Vondell stands six foot one inch tall, with a handsome physique, slender like his veil, but clearly athletic. A veil is a female dedicated to a male suitor. His skin is a lighter shade of vanilla yet seems to be lit from within with a creamy undertone. He is a handsome, clean-shaven, immaculately dressed fellow, and his golden streak is centered perfectly in the middle of his head. Immediately, a short, pudgy fellow dressed all in white appears. "How can I be of service, my Lord?" Says the Kutler.

"We would like to order, please," states Lord Vondell, speaking for the entire table.

"Of course, my Lord. And what will you be selecting?" he asks, turning first to Head Lord Roman.

"I will have the exotic asparus dipped in honey mane, drizzled with orange garlic creme and served alongside the glazed laru."

"Glazed laru?" interrupts Varah? "But I make the best glazed laru."

"Yours was the first I tasted, and it has been a favorite of mine ever since." Varah responds with a half smile. As Lord Roman speaks his order to the Kutler, his food magically appeared on the Kutler's platter.

Eyeing the plates as they appear, Varah says, "I wonder though, does it taste as good as mine?"

The Kutler serves Lord Roman his meal. Lord Roman takes a bite of his laru and savors it. "It tastes exactly like yours. One of the perks of being Class Eight is that your taste buds have auto-sensory memory. Your food always tastes as good as the best sample you've ever eaten."

Olivia, apparently annoyed, waves her hand above her glass, which begins filling itself with Vinyen. "Yes Darling, that is one of the many splendid things that come along with being Class Eight."

Varah's smile nears contempt as she adds, "Looking forward to it."

"Quiet everyone; the ceremony is about to begin," Lord Topher announces. Lord Topher is a chubby man, and his skin is fair and smooth. His round, plump face is supported directly by his shoulders. His eyes are almond-shaped. He is the most reserved of the five Lords.

The lights dim in the Vasquire and the noise ceases abruptly. Everyone grows quiet in anticipation of the promised entertainment. Immediately, a voice seeming to come out of nowhere booms, "Ladies and gentlemen of Volonia, welcome to the Shifting of Classes Ceremony! I am Vanklin Vris, your host for this evening's festivities." The audience bursts into applause, with girlish screams punctuating the clapping as young ladies from all over Volonia squeal their approval of the handsome host. "One of you lucky ladies will be serenaded by me. I love you all so much!"

"How did you get Vanklin Vris?! He's my favorite!" chirps Bara excitedly to her father. Bara is about five feet six, a Class Three with long, blond locks. She is extremely pretty.

"Anything for my sweet daughter," boasts Lord Vondell.

Shenzara turns to her own father." Can we meet him, please? Please?"

"I can do better than that." Lord Roman claps his hands and Vanklin Vris is suddenly hosting the show from in front of their table.

"This is incredible!" shrieks Shenzara. Broc, not at all excited, begins to yawn, prompting a smack on the head from Shenzara. "Don't act like you weren't humming his harmony just yesterday!"

"What can I say? It's catchy." He starts laughing. Bara glances at him, pushes one of her long golden locks behind her ear and smiles coyly. Broc blushes.

Varah chimes in, "Impressive." Lord Roman winks at her.

Olivia, feeling left out, blinks her eyes repeatedly and spills Varah's drink all over her. "Oh, Varah, are you okay?"

"VENVATI VICUP," Varah quickly utters, and the spilled beverage transports itself back into the glass. "Thanks, Olivia. Everything seems to be back in order now."

Olivia smiles, but their womanly stare-down is quickly broken by Vanklin Vris. "Guess what time it is?"

The audience responds in unison, "What time?!"

"Guess what time it is?!" Vanklin Vris repeats.

"What time?" shouts the audience again.

"It is time to harmony shift with that special someone." Olivia grabs Roman's hand and steers him directly to the harmony shifting floor through the quickly growing crowd.

"I have been waiting for this all night," sighs Olivia.

Lord Roman smiles at his veil. "As have I."

Varah stands and walks away from the Lord's Table. "This is exactly why I detest these functions," Varah whispers under her breath. "They don't take into consideration the thousands of single Volonians out there."

The words are barely past her lips when a young, tall, dark-haired fellow approaches Varah. "Would you care to harmony shift?" Varah glances quickly at the man in front of her, from his impeccable hair to his well-shoed toe, taking particular notice of his muscular frame and his carefully crafted cheek bones.

She is opening her lips to accept when she notices he does not have the Gold Volonian streak in his hair. She looks away as she says, "Thanks, but no thanks."

Undaunted, he leans down toward her turned-away face and persists, "Just because I have no streak doesn't mean I can't harmony shift."

Varah relinquishes a slight smile. "It's not you; I just hate these things; they're so uppity."

"Uppity? This coming from the lady who was sitting at the Lords' table?"

Varah chuckles as she realizes the contradiction and tries to correct herself. "I mean, everybody's looking at me, and it doesn't help that I'm single, my ex is a Lord and has a veil."

"They're looking at you because you're stunning, not because your ex is a Lord," the young man says, his eyes sparkling.

"You're too kind," replies Varah. "What is your name?"

"I'm Kanali, from Sector Four."

"Why are you here? You're far from home," replies Varah, growing more curious about this bold young man."

"I'm in charge of the Shifting of Classes Ceremonies next cycle for our sector, and I'm here gathering ideas."

"Well then, nice to meet you, Kanali. I'm Varah."

"I know," coos Kanali.

"How did you know?"

He looks down at her dress, her badge still firmly attached. Varah laughs. Kanali laughs along. "Well the playing harmony is almost over, so I guess my chance for that brief happiness is over too. Still, I hope I made your day a bit brighter."

"You did," says Varah, "thank you." Kanali smiles and then vanishes into the crowd of Volonians making their way back from the harmony shifting floor.

Lordess Raven approaches Varah to ask, "How are you holding up, and who was that handsome stranger I saw you talking to?"

"Some guy from the Fourth Sector asking me to harmony shift."

"And you refused?"

"Yes, I did."

Lordess Raven grabs her hand, "You're going to have to broaden your horizons, my dear. I know you, and you deserve to be happy. And he doesn't have to be Class Eight or a Lord to do that."

"I know," sighs Varah. "I've still got work to do. I'm trying."

"I know. Now let's get back to our table; the Shifting of the Classes is about to begin."

Varah shouts out, "Broc and Shenzara! It's time to go!"

Not far off, the children come running. "Just a little more time? Please Mom?" begs Broc, leaping from his sleek, metallic water board. "Just five more minutes?"

"Mom!" protests Shenzara. "We didn't even program our Omns!"

"We'll have plenty of time for that later, my darlings. We must get back," adds Varah playfully. "Are you guys ready?" They shake their heads in dissent, but Varah nods her head and begins to chant. "VONDUCIO VAMUR DESTATIOM." A thick, grey cloud of smoke appears and in a moment, a portal appears before them. Varah and her offspring step in. The portal closes behind them, and within seconds they are stepping into the corridor of the Vasquire, not far from the round table.

"It is now time for the Shifting of Classes! Will all class ones kindly proceed to the portals closest to their designated areas," directs Marion, appearing as a hologram in the center of the Vasquire.

"Mom, you're a genius! You got us back in time!" squeals Shenzara as she twirls in her new gown.

"I know," says Varah, tossing her hair with an air of confidence. "Now, I just have to find a way for us to switch places with our duplicates."

"What's wrong, Mom?" asks Broc. "I don't like how you said that last part."

"I forgot to get the spell from the Vondercrat that will switch us back."

"Can't you just reverse the spell and replace us with them?" suggests Shenzara.

"That won't work. Vondercrat spells have to be undone with other Vondercrat spells. No spell from any class- not even Class Eight- can do that. I've got to go back and get the Vondercrat."

"Mom, we don't have enough time," Shenzara says, trying to stay calm. "All the Class Ones have already gone through the portal and are in front of the Orb of Vamo that powers their change in classes. They are shifting now to Class Two, and we're next."

The audience erupts into applause. "Congratulations Class Ones," Marion pronounces, "You are now Class Twos. You are now able to speak spells and move objects."

"Mom, hurry!" implores Broc.

"Stay here. Don't move! I will be right back!" Quickly, Varah chants "VENVATI VOME" and disappears.

Proudly surveying the next group of youngsters, Marion announces, "All Class Twos, kindly proceed to your nearest portal." Broc and Shenzara see their duplicates get up to walk to their portals. The kids exchange worried looks, hoping their mother is going to be more impressive than ever.

Arriving at her castle, Varah sees the Vondercrat lying on the floor where they left it. She grabs the humongous spell book and heaves its weight into her hands. She commands, "Vondercrat Open." The book lies motionless in her hand. "What's going on?" Varah questions. "These are the exact words Broc said!" Confused and angry, Varah yells, "VONDERCRAT OPEN! The book does not open. Varah begins to panic. She tries a few more times. "Vondercrat, Open! Open, Vondercrat! Please open for me, please," but her efforts are to no avail; the book does not open.

Varah grabs the book, shoves it into a large sack and heads back to the Shifting. "VENYATI VARRIVA," and Varah stands back in the corridor of the Vasquire.

"Mom!" Shenzara yells, "Hurry up! Did you bring the book?" feeling pressed for time, Shenzara grabs the book and heaves it out of the bag. "Vondercrat Open."

The enormous book hurls itself into the air, opens its cover, and beams out the yellow, illuminating light. The ground begins to shake; pictures hanging on the wall begin to fall. A voice bellows, "Lords, what is your request?"

Not far from the corridor, Lord Topher feels the ground trembling followed by a voice booming. Following the ruckus, he sees a yellow glow coming from around the corridor. Feeling endowed with the authority to investigate, he turns the corner and stares in disbelief at what he is seeing. Broc, noticing the Lord's intrusion on their secret doings, warns, "Mom, there's Lord Topher! Get us out of here!"

Lord Topher raises his voice so that it echoes down the corridor, "VONDUCIO ACAMULT!"

At the same instant, Varah shouts, "VENYATI!" but before Varah completes the spell, she, Broc and Shenzara are frozen in place. Lord Topher reaches up and touches the side of his neck, closing his eyes. In what seems like only seconds, the four other Lords are standing in the corridor. Lordess Semelia speaks first. She is the shortest of the Lords and has a light tone to her skin. Her fierce red hair is tucked safely under her crown, but she allows her beautiful streak to spill directly into her face, giving her the look of a caged fire. She says, "This better be important, Lord Topher, for you to have frozen time and halted the Shifting of Classes Ceremony!"

Lord Topher reaches out his hands in a reassuring gesture and responds. "I think you will want to see this." He leads them around the corner of the corridor.

Lordess Semelia shouts in disbelief. "The... the... the Vondercrat! How in the world...?"

After a moment of stunned silence Lord Vondell finds his voice and chants, "VENYATI VLOSE," causing all the doors leading to the corridor to close at once. Then, "Who is behind this travesty? Lord Roman, did you aid her in this deception?"

"I will not be framed with such accusations!" Lord Roman replies, sputtering in disbelief. "You know that I alone don't have the power to conjure the Vondercrat!"

"Calm Down!" intervenes Lordess Raven. "No need for accusing or placing blame here. We can discuss this at the House of Lords."

"How can this be?" How is she there with us at the round table and also here in the corridor?" gasps Lord Topher, completely puzzled.

"The Duplication Spell," whispers Lordess Semelia, entranced by the glow of the book.

As if on cue, the book bellows again, "Lords, what is your request?" They all remain silent, unsure of what to say or do. Without receiving a response, the book falls to the floor, its glow dissipating.

Lordess Raven resumes the conversation with, "That's impossible. No Volonian has the power to cast that spell."

Lord Vondell follows with, "No Volonian has the power even to _conjure_ the Vondercrat, yet here it is." He cautiously lifts the gigantic book from the floor.

Lord Roman turns to Lord Topher, "Please unfreeze all the Volonians, cancel the Shifting of Classes Ceremony until further notice, and have every Volonian report directly to their homes. Meet us at the House of Lords immediately after. We must consult with the Guardians. The rest of you, follow me. VONDUCIO VAN VOMITTAN." All at once, the remaining Lords along with the Cutters vanish. Within seconds they are all reassembled in the House of Lords.

**Chapter 4**

_The House of Lords_

Darkness falls over a clear sky. The streets are empty- not a vendor is in sight. Suspicion and gloom arise as the centerpieces of a night that began as festive. A small, sober gathering commences at the House of Lords, creating a formal yet intense setting. In the Great Hall, the Five Lords of Volonia, one representing each sector, sit solemnly around a large, half-moon table. Ancient paintings line the dark walls, and ten-foot marble columns grandly hold aloft the vaulted ceiling, lending a voluminous and intimidating aura to the room. Lanterns handcrafted by Volonia's finest artisans illuminate the magnificent space, reflecting an undeniable essence of Power. Only the Five Lords have the privilege to hold court here.

Lord Roman stands. He paces the floor; then, seemingly pulled from his distraction by a disturbing thought, he quickly takes his seat at the center of the rounded table. Reflecting the inner turmoil of his mind, his frustrated hand pushes roughly through his thick locks. He turns to Lord Topher. "Where do we start?"

Lordess Semelia opens a book of Volonian Law before turning her attention toward Lord Roman. She inhales with grave anticipation. "This is unprecedented; these breaches cannot be ignored, even under the circumstances, Lord Roman. The bylaws state..."

Lord Roman turns abruptly toward Lordess Semelia. "I understand the bylaws, Lordess."

She removes her glasses and takes a sip of water. "Are you sure? The Vondercrat holds all the power of Volonia. Any Volonian conjuring it would have the power to cause mass destruction." She pauses, reflecting inwardly on her next thought. "Or destroy our planet." The room falls silent, each Lord pondering the severity of the moment.

Lord Roman hesitates a moment to collect his ideas; then, rubbing his forehead replies, "I would like to assure The House that I had nothing to do with this."

Lordess Raven smiles briefly. "We know. It's impossible, literally."

"But I think you owe us all an explanation," interjects Lord Vondell. "Your ex-veil just happened to get her hands on the most powerful book of Volonia."

"Are you implying I had something to do with this?" retorts Lord Roman.

Lordess Semelia stands. She stares intently into Lord Vondell's eyes. "Don't be ridiculous. It takes each one of us present to call the book forth."

Lord Vondell also stands, now face-to-face with Lordess Semelia. With a look of distain, he smirks, "So let's say Lord Roman's ex-veil isn't at fault. What kind of message would this send to the Volonian people? This action is against Volonian law. It is stated clearly, here, under the bylaws: VUO VOO CU SAY." Lord Vondell lifts his hand as the Volonian Book of Bylaws descends from a nearby shelf and floats directly into his hand.

"We understand, Lord Vondell. No need for a crash course in Volonian Law," replies Lordess Semelia.

Lordess Raven persists in trying to shift the conversation. "Everybody keep calm. This breach is not the first, as some of you may recall."

Lord Vondell isn't buying her alibi, and he adds, "But it _is_ the first time the Vondercrat has been stolen."

Lord Roman rises from his chair and walks toward the exit. "I need a moment. Please excuse me."

Lord Vondell glances around at the other Lords with a smirk. "Sure, take all the time you need."

Lord Roman yanks open the door with the wave of a hand, strides out into the hall and then slams it shut behind him with another angry wave.

"Lord Vondell," Lord Topher begins, "I don't understand the implications here. We serve the people of Volonia and owe them. It's our duty as Lords. Feeding our own egos isn't warranted."

In response, Lord Vondell lifts both of his hands and suddenly disappears.

Lordess Semelia's eyes dart around the room, her stare serious. "We will continue in 15 minutes."

Lord Roman walks swiftly down an empty corridor, his long robe dragging behind him. He turns a corner, walks another twenty feet and is met by two immense guards standing firmly in front of a silver door. Taking notice of Lord Roman, they quickly step to the side. "Good evening, Lord Roman." He ignores their greeting, however, and waves a hand to magically unlock the silver door. It opens onto another corridor. Lord Roman stares down the dark space, seeing only a hint of light seeping from underneath the door at the end.

"VCI VO VAY ARIVO." Lord Roman levitates a few feet from the ground and magically glides toward the door. "VCI VO VAY MO." Suddenly the door opens. He stands at the threshold. Varah, Shenzara and Broc sit on a hard, wooden bench. The dingy room is small and cold; only a few small lanterns illuminate the space.

Broc lifts his head to speak. "Father!" Broc extends his hand for a shake, but Lord Roman ignores him, Shenzara, also excited, runs over to hug her father, but his eyes are unwelcoming; they lock on Varah.

"Varah, explain yourself."

She steps in front of Broc. "I will do no such thing."

Looking to his children, Lord Roman asks, "Are you two okay?" Varah doesn't mutter a word, but Broc speaks up. "I think so."

Lord Roman points to the door, his expression growing more serious. "Wait outside."

Shenzara steps in between Varah and Lord Roman. "But Father, what's going on?"

Lord Roman lifts his hand and the door magically opens. "Shenzara, Broc, outside. Now!" Lord Roman's voice sends trembles down their young spines. Frightened, the kids move towards the door, but Varah stops them by placing her hand on Shenzara's shoulder and grabbing Broc by the hand. She moves them to the side.

"They're staying."

Lord Roman stares at his ex-veil for a long moment, then shifts his eyes to the side. Magically, the door closes. "Fine." Shenzara and Broc back away from their parents' stare down and take a seat on the wooden bench. Varah, on the other hand, takes a step toward Lord Roman.

"So what is it, Roman? Your seat is up soon and you need to ruffle some feathers?" Lord Roman turns away. He forces his hands together and a glowing sphere magically appears, floating towards the children. Their eyes widen as they silently move away, "What are you doing?" asks Varah, taking a step back now as well. The sphere descends over Shenzara and Broc, enveloping them to create a sort of bubble that blocks their hearing. The two shake their heads, hoping to revive their hearing; then, when they realize it is no use, sit quietly, "Who puts spells on their own kids?" She lifts her hands and chants, "VCO SOL SOY VOAY," but nothing happens.

"Your witchcraft won't work in the House of Lords," Lord Roman informs her. "Can we talk about what happened? Tell me, how did you do it?"

Varah folds her arms and turns away. "Do what? Something you couldn't do, Lord?"

Lord Roman takes a menacing step toward her, his eyes piercing. "Varah, this is serious; you've breached a law."

Varah's arms drop and the smirk leaves her face. She glances at Broc and Shenzara before inching closer to Lord Roman. "And what does this mean?"

Lord Roman's shoulders fall. "I really don't know, Varah."

Varah concedes. Remorse creeps into her voice. "Roman, I didn't think I could actually do it." Lord Roman waves his hand, and a chair magically appears. He sits. "The kids and I needed a vacation, Roman. The Vondercrat wasn't used in malice, I promise."

Lord Roman crosses his legs. "I've known you for twenty five cycles, Varah, and in all that time you've never done anything this foolish. This could really cost me."

Varah interrupts, "So this is about _you,_ Roman? Your kids are in some cold dungeon and you're thinking about your seat? Classic."

Lord Roman stands as he shifts his eyes. The chair magically disappears. "No, it's about Volonia's secrets, and as one of Volonia's appointed Lords, it is my duty to protect them. So, I'm going to ask again." Lord Roman walks over to Varah. He towers over her, causing her to back away. "How did you get the book?"

Varah inhales sharply and replies, "My father." Lord Roman, now curious, locks eyes with Varah.

"Lord Dex?"

"Yes, he taught me a few spells when I was a young girl." Varah steps away. She takes a seat on the bench while Lord Roman waits for an explanation.

"...and?"

"And, that's it. Every so often we would practice them." Varah's gold streak lights up.

"That's against the House of Lords' oath. Those spells are sacred, and no man or woman should ever speak them!"

Varah has had enough. She steps forward again; her chin thrust forward, and says, "Tough."

Lord Roman grabs Varah by the arm, causing Broc to jump to his feet. "Let her go!" Varah raises her hand assuring him it's okay.

"But Varah, you don't understand. You can't retrieve the Vondercrat with a spell unless all Five Lords are present. That's governed by the Guardians."

Varah holds Broc close, safely wrapping her arms around him. "Well I did." Lord Roman turns his back to Varah, but she continues. "So what does this mean for us?"

Lord Roman steps away, his rage intensifying. He breathes faster as he moves toward the door. "VCO VOO VAY VIAS." The door opens. He turns and says, "I don't know," then bolts down the dark hall, lifting his hand to magically slam and lock the door behind him.

The kids' ears open; they can hear again. "Mom, what's going on?" asks Shenzara, rushing to embrace her mother. Broc wears a look of worry on his face as he paces back and forth in the small room.

"I knew we should have gone to the ceremony," Broc points out. "Now we won't be Class Three, Mom."

Varah points to Broc, "You're making me dizzy, sit!" Broc reluctantly sits, exhausted.

"Mom, I want out. You got us into this, so you've got to get us out. I can't go through life as a Class Two forever. I just can't."

Varah stands, walks to the door and tries unsuccessfully to unlock it. "VCO VOY ALLA SYE." Nothing happens. She turns and glances at her children's fallen faces. She turns back to the door, places her ear to the dark, heavy wood, and listens.

Shenzara pouts, her back slouching on the cold, brick wall. "Mom what are you doing? My life is ruined."

Varah cautiously steps away from the door, whispering, "VISCERA, VISCERA!" A gold cloud of smoke oozes underneath the door. Broc and Shenzara stand, looking on curiously. Nervously, they move towards Varah.

Broc whispers, "What's that?"

The gold cloud quickly fills the room and spontaneously, Viscera appears, clearly annoyed, his nose turned up as he surveys the small room. "Are you serious?"

Varah waves away the lingering gold smoke, a sense of relief spreading across her face.

She steps toward Viscera. "I didn't think you'd hear me in here." "You're all the buzz around Volonia. It took you 40 cycles to achieve, but I'd say, _well earned._ " She grabs Viscera's collar, forcing him closer. "We need a portal out of here."

Shenzara's not convinced. Biting her nails, she says, "Mom he can't conjure a portal, this is the House of Lords remember."

Viscera turns on his heel to face the girl. "Thank you for that spirited acknowledgement, which I resent, but yes, the dear child is correct."

Broc rises from the bench, his eyes alert as he motions to Viscera. "I can get us out of here." He grabs his ear and yanks as he says, "VCO VU AMM VOSA," but nothing happens.

Taking charge of the situation, Varah points to the bench. "Both of you sit. I'm Class Six; my spells should work here."

Viscera cautiously takes a step away from Varah "Sorry to be a bearer of bad news, Varah, but as the dear child clearly stated, this is the House of Lords. All magic is void here except for Class Eights."

"Well then how did you get here?"

"There are some perks to being a Guide, I can't deny it." Curiously, Viscera brings his hand to his chin. "How did I get here? Hmm." Realizing something is indeed different, he says, "Your voice came to me clearer than ever before."

Broc whispers to Shenzara "That's a first!" His wide smile annoys Viscera, who turns away. Varah has had it. She forces Viscera closer. "Enough! Give me your hand." Viscera cautiously lifts his hand, which Varah grips tightly.

"Go easy, Varah," he winces.

Varah turns towards Broc and Shenzara and says, "Stay here. I'll be back."

Broc turns nervously to Shenzara. "You're really going to leave us?" Varah forces herself to turn away; she's torn.

"I promise I'll be back." Varah squeezes Viscera's hand then pushes him through the door, magically transporting them through to the other side.

Viscera curiously moves from the door, to Varah, then to the door again. "How in bloody hell did you do that?" Varah winks, her confidence up again. She tiptoes down the dark hall.

"Remember, I'm a bad witch, Viscera. They call me Class Six."

Shenzara drops her hands into her lap. "What do we do now?"

Broc paces again, his nerves more on edge than ever. "We wait for Mom." Shenzara ignores Broc's comment, her eyes closing slowly. Quietly, she turns within. Broc shoves her. "Wake up. This is no time to check out. I'm nervous." Shenzara opens her eyes, but Broc notices that her demeanor has somehow changed. It frightens him. He takes a step away, but his eyes are locked on his sister's blank stare.

Varah and Viscera hurry down the dark corridor and arrive at the silver door. They huddle, Varah leading the plan. Her tone is convincing, but she sounds worried when she says, "Okay, I need a convincing distraction while I find Roman."

Viscera nervously clutches his heart. "Is this really going to work?" Varah is ready. Pure adrenaline guides her. She grabs Viscera's hand and cautiously but magically pokes her head through the door, noticing the two guards. She unlatches the lock on the door from the inside.

"Okay Viscera, you can do this." Without hesitation, Varah forcefully pushes Viscera through the door, causing him to fall to the ground at the feet of the guards. The god-like men lift their staffs. "Who goes there?"

Viscera jumps to his feet. "I demand to see the Lords!" The guards take aim with their magical staffs, but Viscera bolts down the empty corridor.

"Stop!" Both guards race after him.

Varah pushes open the door and peeks out before opening it wider. One foot cautiously steps out, then the other. She looks to her left, then to her right, panicked. She scurries down the hall as her loose, flowing train follows closely behind. She stays close to the wall, hoping to stay out of sight. She creeps down the bricked corridor, the dust in the air forcing a sneeze. She clamps her hand over her mouth so as not to be heard while gripping the leafy vines, which cling to the walls and serve as guidance. Every step wobbles with the thought of capture. She hears a faint whisper coming from behind her. She takes a quick backward glance. No one is there. She walks faster. The corridor is a dead end; nowhere to go. Keeping her panic in check, she scans every crevice of the floor and the wall. "There!" She spots a hidden door to her right. Peering down the corridor to make sure it's clear, she steps nervously toward the door. Her heart racing, she thrusts the door forward and whispers, "Roman? Roman?" Slowly she opens the door. "Roman?"

Varah enters the room. Five exquisite paintings depicting the ancient Guardians of Volonia greet her. A few marble benches are arranged near each painting. The door slams abruptly, frightening Varah. She turns quickly, but no one is there.

"Roman? Is that you?" She steps farther into the room. Now confident that she is alone, Varah walks over to one of the paintings for a closer look. It reads, _Guardian Dumas Pritchard Vladimir._ Varah stares intently at the painting, her eyes fixated on the man's image. His bronze skin glows. He dons a colorful robe. Atop his long mane rests a gold crown encircling his head. His eyes are hazel, his stance strong, hands opened as if welcoming Varah to his space. Suddenly, a hand touches Varah on the shoulder, startling her into a scream.

"It's Roman. It's me. Don't be afraid."

Varah cups her hand to her mouth. "You frightened me!" Lord Roman takes Varah's hands into his own and leads her to one of the benches. They sit.

"Varah, I want to help you, but you have to tell me what happened."

"I told you Roman. There is nothing else to say." Varah quickly stands, her frustration brought to an immediate peak.

"Come on, Varah. There has to be something else you did. Tell me everything."

Still, there is no response from Varah. "Is there no getting through to you?" Lord Roman's voice softens. He steps closer to Varah and caresses her arm. His touch sends Varah directly into past memories. Her tone then softens too.

"I want my name cleared, Roman."

"Honey I want to get you out of here as much as you do, but the other Lords have a strangle hold on this. They desire an answer." He moves towards Varah, his body pressed against hers, forcing her to the wall. She has nowhere to go, and his aggression is all too familiar to her.

"Roman what are you doing?"

"Varah, I've never forgotten about you; it's always been you." Varah seems flattered; her pulse beats faster, her cold stare warms, and she musters a smile.

"You mean that?"

Lord Roman takes her hands and cups them in his own. "I don't say things I don't mean; you should know that by now."

"But what about..." Lord Roman's places his index finger over Varah's mouth halting her next word. His warm lips brush her earlobe ever so slightly.

He whispers, his tone suddenly turning cold, "Darling, how did you get the Vondercrat? Go on, tell me." Varah, confused, looks into Lord Roman's hazel eyes, her heart beating faster. She is unable to look away; a lost love greets her again.

Footsteps approach from a distance. Hearing them, Lord Roman tightens his grip on her arm. "Go on Varah, hurry! Someone is coming." Lord Roman leans in passionately, kissing Varah. Her eyes drop, her heart races, her hands reluctantly grip the bricked wall behind her, and she ultimately accepts the kiss. Then, ending the kiss abruptly, Lord Roman laughs sinisterly. He winks at Varah.

"What's funny?" A cobra seeps along the ground from underneath Lord Roman's robe, slithering toward Varah. Frightened, she steps away. Lord Roman lifts his hands, and suddenly Varah's hands are magically fixed to the wall. A few white cobras burst through the bricks around her, wrapping themselves around Varah's arms. She's pinned! She screams! Lord Roman's voice deepens and a blank, sadistic stare comes into his eyes. He's in a trance. Lord Roman slowly reaches out and grabs Varah by the neck, his fingernails growing before her eyes, wrapping tightly around her neck. Filled with fear, Varah gasps for air. "Roman! What are you doing to me?" The white cobras slide up and down Varah's body, the hissing sound intensifying as they slitter closer to Varah's head.

Writhing momentarily like one of the snakes, Lord Roman morphs into a wickedly laughing Olivia, draped in a black hooded robe. She lifts her head, enjoying the sight of Varah struggling yet failing at all attempts to free herself.

"Olivia!"

"Who else would it be? You didn't actually think Roman still had feelings for you, did you Darling? You look absolutely powerless!" Varah squirms as the cobras slide to only inches from her mouth. Olivia grips Varah's jaw, forcing it near. "How did you do it?"

"You're a Class Eight, you figure it out."

"I think I have something that will get you to talk." Olivia lifts her hands. A ball of electricity ignites from her palms; her eyes glow like fire. She levitates, the rays of electricity blinding the entire room. Varah turns her head away from the light, feeling her fate fall in ruins. As she braces herself for a cruel death, the door behind her blasts open and two guards rush in.

"You! Stop!"

Olivia morphs into a ball of fire and ascends high above the ground. Suddenly there is a powerful burst through the ceiling. A loud rumble can be heard throughout the building as bricks come crashing to the floor. The guards quickly maneuver to avoid being crushed.

As the magic wears off the cobras are released. A disheveled Varah collapses to the ground.

Lord Roman rushes in, greeted by commotion. "Varah? Are you alright?"

"I think so," she mutters.

"What happened?"

"Your veil."

Lord Roman glances around the room. "Olivia? You're lying, Varah. She wouldn't think to come here."

Varah massages her aching neck, her eyes looking up at the hole in the ceiling. Her tone is sarcastic now. "I guess that hole just got there by itself, then, huh?"

"This is worse than I anticipated, Varah." Lord Roman wanders over to a bench. He sits, and his mood quickly shifts, doubt creeping into his voice. "They want to exile you. Broc and Shenzara, too."

Stunned, Varah rises to her feet. As she catches her breath, the words burst from her lips. "What?"

"The Lords are gridlocked: two opposing and two in your favor."

Varah looks away; she wipes dust from her dress. She knows what's coming. "And your vote, Roman?"

"Conflict of interest; I'm exempt."

"So, what does that mean?"

Lord Roman rises and silently turns away. "A higher house. It's in the Guardians' hands now."

Lord Roman swiftly exits the room. Varah can't believe what she's just heard. Her heart is racing. She turns to the paintings on the wall and stands alone, looking up into their faces. Her fate rests in the hands of Volonia's most ancient Guardians.

**Chapter 5**

_Guardians of Volonia_

It's early morning. The sound of several feet approaching becomes louder as they get closer. Four guards stop to rest at a large door. They are draped in gold robes, their staffs attached to their sides, their faces made of stone; they are on a mission. One of the guards moves his staff in front of the door, and magically, the door unlocks. Once through the doorway, a tall, bricked stairwell appears before them. They ascend swiftly, the light of their lanterns guiding them through the darkness. At the top, the guards fix their lanterns on the walls that split the hallway in both directions. "Which corridor?" one of the guards asks. A second guard points the way with his staff. They proceed down the dimly lit path. They reach a set of double, steel doors. "Here?" inquires the first guard. "You think this is a bit much for a Class Six? What's the charge?" A slight vibration shifts the space. The guards' turn, knowing it must be only one thing: a Lord.

Lordess Raven magically glides down the hall, her cloak slightly grazing the ground. She descends. The guards take position at the door, their poses intimidating and their staffs poised fiercely across their chests. Lordess Raven removes her hood. The light from the lanterns reveals her silky, olive skin and the gold streak hanging straight down with the sleek fall of her tresses. She curiously hides her hands behind her back before walking over to face one of the guards. "How is she?"

The guards look nervously to the floor. "We have just arrived, Lordess Raven."

"Do you have the spell for admittance?"

"No, Lordess."

Lordess Raven smiles. "Good! VOOL SYA VCO VALLE." The steel doors suddenly open, and she quickly glides into the room, "VCO VOY." The doors slam behind her, leaving the guards at their post outside. She glides to the center of the empty space and then prominently lifts her right hand. "VACY VCO AL SIIAN." Suddenly a large, glass room is illuminated. Behind it Varah sits alone on a chair. Hanging around her neck is a Vicklor, a glowing device that restricts the use of magic. She is dressed simply yet beautifully in a fitted, white gown, her hair is pulled stylishly to the side. Her elegant legs are crossed, masking the impatience she feels during this waiting.

"Lordess Raven, is that really you?" She quickly uncrosses her legs and rises from her chair to step cautiously behind it. She is ready for battle. "How can I trust you?" Lordess Raven smiles, but Varah steps farther away from the glass. "How can I be sure it's you?"

Lordess Raven floats over to the glass. She sees the battle-ready look in Varah's eye. Lordess Raven lifts her arm toward the sky and a chair magically appears. She sits and replies calmly to Varah, "At our last class party cycles ago, one of us created a typhoon almost flooding the ceremony because she didn't realize her new-found powers."

Varah smiles at the memory. "I thought I'd put that past me. Yes, it's really you." Varah walks over to the edge of the glass and concedes an inviting smile to her friend. "I'm glad you came."

With the lift of a hand, Lordess Raven summons Varah's chair to a position directly facing the glass. "Sit." Varah does so.

"Are Broc and Shenzara all right?"

"They're fine. Listen, Varah. We've been friends for a while, and I wanted you to know that I'll always stand in your honor."

"I thank you for that. You were the one who gave me the insight about Roman and her." Lordess Raven struggles for her next statement. She glances away. "What is it, Lordess Raven?"

"They could send you away, Varah."

"They could send me away? Where?" Varah rises from her chair; she moves closer to the glass. "I'm Class Six, Raven. I've worked hard for that."

Lordess Raven lifts her hands. She magically appears alongside Varah behind the glass. "Varah! You've breached the system. You're a risk." Lordess Raven turns away. "They could send you to a distant planet."

Varah's head drops, her hope deflated. She steps away. "And my twins?" Lordess Raven places her hand on Varah's shoulder. Resisting the gesture, Varah realizes the truth in what Lordess Raven is not saying. She screams, "Ahhhh!!" Suddenly her hair stands as though on fire. An electrical surge shoots from the glowing device attached to her neck, sending a painful current through her body. She screams again, this time in pain. Lordess Raven looks away, unable to bear seeing her friend suffer. "Raven, I can't be without my kids. Is he the one up to this?"

"I assure you, Lord Roman has nothing to do with this outcome. The Guardians have been summoned."

"Where are my kids? I must see them!" Lordess Raven lifts a hand and reappears outside the glass. Varah runs over to the impenetrable wall. Her panic rises. Desperation fills her eyes. "Please Raven, please!"

Lordess Raven turns slowly, now stepping toward the door. Every move she makes hurts. Varah stands alone behind the glass, stricken with pain. She pleads, "VIEOO Lordess Raven, VIEOO!"

Lordess Raven pauses at the door, contemplating. Her eyes start to glow. "You may have a few minutes." Magically, Broc and Shenzara appear in the glass room alongside their mother. They, too have glowing devices attached to their necks. Broc runs over to Varah; they embrace.

"Mom, where were you? I thought you were gone forever." Shenzara folds her arms, pouting, and walks over to the opposite end of the glass room. She is neither thrilled nor impressed.

"Shenzara, honey, are you okay?"

"I'd rather not talk about it. I want to go home." Broc fiddles with his neck device, an attempt at removing it that fails.

"This thing is too tight. Zara, lighten up." Shenzara doesn't move, her childish attitude coming through clearly.

"That's not the point! She's selfish, and we're paying for it!"

"Don't be a brat, Zara." Shenzara turns her back to Varah and Broc, "This is stupid! It was supposed to be our day and she ruined it. That's the reason...." Shenzara catches herself.

Varah cautiously walks over. "That's the reason what? Go on, finish."

Shenzara musters some courage and turns to Varah, face to face. "That's the reason I wanted to live with Father. You've done nothing but screw our lives up!"

Varah's heart drops to her feet. She takes a step back. "I didn't see that coming. I did this for you, Shenzara..."

Shenzara interrupts, "No, you did this for _you_. You're pissed at Father, you hate Olivia, you're not a class eight, and now we are the ones paying for it." Broc steps cautiously over to Shenzara and takes her hand. Dismissively, she pushes him away. Her stare intensifies as she moves closer to Varah.

"Calm down, Shenzara. I'll think of something."

"No, Mom. You've always talked about following the rules of Volonia, and the first chance you get, you break them." Shenzara's hair rises like fire, flares shooting out from her small body, and her feet suddenly lift from the ground. Varah eyes widen; she reels back in shock.

"Shenzara!" She screams.

"No! I hate you! I hate you! VCO VO VOYA!" Shenzara yells. The four walls of glass shatter around them, crashing to the floor. The guards rush in just as Shenzara collapses to the floor. Her neck device sends another strong current through her body. Crumpled and tearful, she buries her face in her hands. "I want to go home. I want to go home." Tears flow from her eyes while Broc and Varah stand motionless, their mouths dropped, nothing to say. They stand in the remnants of Shenzara's anger- a family's love torn to pieces in minutes.

Lord Roman and the other four Lords wait in a dark room, their faces lit by flickering lanterns, their shadows prancing nervously on the walls as they stand in silence. Lord Roman speaks solemnly. "May we all grasp hands? Repeat after me." "VCO VY VENTI AVOLA." The others repeat the spell, their hands still united in collective strength. A clap of thunder high above their heads suddenly rocks the room. Fierce winds blow through their heavy robes, making it difficult for them to stand in place. Bolts of light rush through their bodies, encompassing and harnessing the power of each Lord. A brightly lit portal opens in the center of the room. An intense, repetitive hum emanates from deep within the portal.

"Be well!" yells Lordess Raven.

The piercing wind rushes through Lord Semelia's hair, her gold streak whipped by the wind. "See you soon, Lord Roman!"

Lord Roman gathers his robes about himself before walking towards the portal. As he places one foot inside the brightness, Lord Vondell screams out, "Lord Roman!" but Roman, focused on his mission, doesn't turn back. He forces an answer "What is it?"

"I will accompany you!" shouts Lord Vondell over the noise of the storm. Lordess Semelia lifts her head. Shocked, she turns toward Lordess Raven. They all await an answer.

Reluctantly, Lord Roman agrees. "If that is your choice." Lord Roman proceeds into the portal. Lord Vondell looks to the other Lords and nods before following Lord Roman through the brightly spinning circle. The Portal closes in on itself. A look of uncertainty moves across the faces of the three remaining Lords.

A portal opens. Lord Roman and Lord Vondell exit onto a flat surface. It's dusty and cold. They stare out at miles of empty space. "What now?" asks Lord Vondell. Lord Roman ignores the question and continues to walk, but then stops abruptly. Something crosses his mind. He turns towards Lord Vondell.

"I just want to be sure we are on the same page," says Lord Roman as he removes his hood. He unties the top of his robe, breathing in the clear, open air.

"And what page would that be?" Lord Vondell replies, also taking a deep breath. He glances at the bare sky. "Is this about your seat?"

"No! So much more is at stake here than that," Roman says in defense.

"Are you sure, Lord Roman?"

"Yes. Shenzara and Broc are in the middle. They shouldn't have to right the wrong for Varah."

"So we both agree on what's right for Volonia? Or is there a special amendment given to your family?" A smirk comes over the face of Lord Vondell.

"We should get going," says Lord Roman, as he turns to continue walking.

Lord Vondell nods and follows, sustaining the smirk as he follows close behind. "Yes, we should." The two Lords walk on. "So where is this great Guardian city?"

Lord Roman does not respond but stares straight ahead. "VOC VACY VCO AL SIIAN." A mile-wide and rocky mountain range appears before them. Its power is visible as a swath of shining, vibrating air hovering in the naked sky. It is grand and massive. The entire landscape shimmers with a golden light. Lord Vondell is astonished. His eyes search every inch of the mountain, taking in its beauty. Lord Roman notices a gold door- an entrance- high above the ground in the mid-range of the mountain. He opens his hands. He levitates high above the ground, drifting towards the golden door.

Lord Vondell notices Lord Roman's ascent. "VCO FIOLO VOY," and magically Lord Vondell disappears then reappears at the doors on the mountain. He waits for Lord Roman. "This was much faster."

Ignoring Lord Vondell's comment, Lord Roman moves toward the center of the door. His voice booms, commanding and powerful. "VAMY CO VCO SACIOL."

The door thunders back, "VAMY CO VCO SACIOL." Slowly, the door fades to reveal a path into the magical and mysterious mountain. The two Lords enter and continue forward. They glide toward the edge of what appears to be a steep cliff. Looking down, they notice a small valley surrounded by huge boulders. The ground looks solid, flat and glittering white. Lord Roman lifts a hand and they both descend to the base of the valley to find themselves standing in the center of the white surface. Lord Vondell glances around nervously.

A beam of energy ascends from the bottom of their feet. The energy passes through their bodies and high above their heads to identify them as Lords. Three distinct spheres of light gradually appear before them. The lights dissolve into floating beings, holographic images.

The reigning Guardians of Volonia take their Volonian forms. Lord Roman and Lord Vondell bow respectfully. Seemingly in response, the three Guardians levitate, their faces brightly lit by the white, reflective, surface. Lord Vondell, being in the presence of the Guardians for the first time, bows again in awe.

Guardian Vladimir is positioned in the center. He is a thin man. His long gray mane is prominent against his wiry frame, as are his bright, hazel eyes. He wears a white robe, which looks magnificent against his deep, mahogany skin. To his left is Guardian Minion Tagge, who is a bit thicker around the waist. His short-cropped brown hair compliments his lighter, sandy brown beard. Guardian Amelia Roche drifts to the right of Guardian Vladimir; her translucent skin is that of an angel. She is a petite woman, and her long, grey hair is pinned up in a bun. The creases on her face reveal that she is the elder of the group.

Guardian Vladimir welcomes the Lords with an opening hymn from the ancient Vondercrat. "VCO SEY COOY VULI. VCO SEY COOY VLO. Welcome, Lord Roman. Lord Vondell, it is a pleasure to meet you."

Lord Vondell anxiously takes a step forward to stand in front of Lord Roman, who respectfully takes a step back, allowing his fellow Lord to speak. "It is a great honor to finally meet the Guardians. I am duly humbled."

"Why have you summoned us, Lord Roman?" Guardian Vladimir asks.

"We are grateful for the opportunity to commune with you all, but under the circumstances, this may not be a joyous visit."

"Go on," Guardian Vladimir urges.

Lord Vondell anxiously shifts his weight from one foot to the other, eager to chime in. Guardian Amelia notices this. "Lord Vondell, is there something you would like to come forth to say?"

Lord Vondell glances at Lord Roman, His grin widens. He takes another step towards the Guardians. "In the midst of the Shifting Ceremony, one of our citizens summoned the Vondercrat and used its powers for..."

"Impossible!" Interjects Guardian Amelia. "It takes all five Lords of Volonia to retrieve the ancient Vondercrat!"

Guardian Vladimir sits silently, his disbelief showing openly. He inhales deeply. "Who is this citizen, and what class?" Lord Vondell takes a step back, his arm extended, implicating Lord Roman in some way. "That is the troubling part, Guardians."

Lord Roman hesitates; then says, "My ex-veil. Class Six."

Guardian Vladimir's voice echoes loudly across the expanse of space. "Did you have any part in this breach?"

"I can assure you, Guardian, there was no violation on my part. We intentionally amended Volonian law several cycles ago so that this could never happen."

"I am sure you both know what's at stake when anyone gets their hands on the Vondercrat," says Guardian Tagge.

"Are we preceding with exile?" asks Guardian Amelia.

Lord Vondell lifts his head to the sky, his words ringing proudly. "She should be exiled immediately." Lord Roman stands frozen, stunned by the force of Lord Vondell's declaration.

"How did the Lords vote?" says Guardian Vladimir.

"Two for, two against."

Guardian Amelia again steers the discussion and inquires, "Exiled to what distant dimension, do you propose?"

"A place where evil runs rampant." Lord Vondell's smile catches Guardian Tagge's eye.

"Is something amusing you about this breach, Lord Vondell?"

Lord Vondell stumbles over his words before finding the right ones. "Guardian Tagge, it is my duty to protect the Vondercrat and its power. I find it troubling that there is a conflict of interest here." Lord Vondell lifts his hand, expecting to receive the Volonia law book, but nothing happens.

"Your magic is void here Lord Vondell," says Guardian Amelia.

"Duly noted."

Lord Roman has had enough. "She is my ex-veil and nothing more, Lord Vondell. We share parental duties, nothing more."

"Enough!" shouts Guardian Vladimir. "How old are the children?"

"Twelve, they're twins."

Guardian Amelia leans toward Guardian Vladimir to whisper in his ear. Listening, Guardian Vladimir shifts his composure. The three Guardians commune among themselves before turning to the Lords.

"You do understand, that if found guilty, the children will be exiled as well," says Guardian Vladimir. Lord Roman's heart sinks. His eyes lower, searching for a way out. His head nods in reluctant agreement. "Lord Roman, the people of Volonia appointed you Lord because they felt you could protect the Vondercrat and be unbiased under any circumstance while upholding Volonian law. You must make a choice and be the deciding voice," says Guardian Vladimir. Lord Vondell's hands fall to his side, his face as cold as the hard, white floor beneath their feet.

"I understand," Lord Roman responds.

"But Guardians, I..." Lord Vondell pauses to collect his thoughts "We were hoping that you three would make this decision, given the circumstances."

"I'm sure you were, but this is Lord Roman's decision to make," responds Guardian Tagge. "We are confident that you will make the right decision, Lord Roman."

Lord Vondell's tone deepens. He moves boldly close to the Guardians. "Guardians, don't you think..."

"Lord Vondell, we've declared our decision!" Feeling this keen reproach, Lord Vondell concedes. He accepts with a nod. Both Lords nod again as they turn to exit, but they are stopped abruptly.

"One more thing," Guardian Vladimir adds, his voice cold and certain. "Darkness may soon fall over Volonia. The key to your survival may very well reside in this single decision, Lord Roman. The energies of our planet are aligning quickly. The battle of a lifetime could ensue. A decision must be made by all five Lords as to which side they're on." Lord Roman listens intently, his eyes fixed on Guardian Vladimir, "If the wrong decision is made, our planet could fall into the hands of a destructive power unlike anything we have ever seen." Lord Roman stands. He is struck by a trembling fear. His faith has been challenged, and his soul has been shaken by Guardian Vladimir's grim prophecy of Volonia's uncertain future.

**Chapter 6**

_Judgments_

It's early afternoon in Upper Volonia. Vamo's golden beams shine down to warm the Volonian sector where citizens joyfully crowd the streets. Vendors occupy the corners to sell artifacts, trinkets, snacks and sweet-filled breads. The aroma of freshly cooked food floats through the air. Above the city, a massive ball of fire momentarily distracts the townspeople from their activities as it races high above. It has the formation of a comet, leaving a trail of fire as it tears through the bright sky. Children point up and stare, and then run, trying to chase after it. Its velocity is too much for their small legs, however. They slow to a defeated walk, realizing they'll never catch it.

An older man sits on a stoop and moves some game pieces on a table. His head rises as he senses something in the sky passing in his direction. "Isn't she a beauty?" he says. Beside him sits a younger man, his eyes glued to the sky. "Class Eight!" says the older gentleman.

"How would you know that?" the younger gentleman asks.

"Easy, I know her. Powerful and seductive she was, in her younger days. We shifted together."

The younger gentleman turns away in disbelief. He's had enough. "Lies! Voosh! Voosh! Why must you fabricate about something as shallow as this?" The old gentleman merely smiles and turns his attention back to his game. He picks up a piece with his withered and shaky hand and turns back to the younger man.

"That's a woman you'll want to stay away from."

"You're losing it, old man. I'm late. Catch you tomorrow." The younger man exits the stoop and dashes off toward the Transit Portal System, or TPS as the youth like to call it. He places his wrist over the reader and enters the portal. The older man packs his game pieces into a small bag. He rises before feeling around for his cane. We now notice that he is blind. He locates the cane and picks it up. With the bag of game pieces in the other hand, he wobbles on his cane down the crowded street. Suddenly, a scruffy, unshaved man magically appears in front of him and snatches his small bag then disappears as quickly as he appeared. The older gentlemen shouts, "Help! Someone help! Anyone?" He adds with a snarl, "Dreaded Pop-in..." He limps away, disappointed, again victimized by a Pop-in: a Volonian whose restricted powers allow them only to disappear and reappear.

Several miles away, the ball of fire comes to a mid-air halt, hovering over an ancient castle. A massive body of water occupies the space in front of the entrance. A drawbridge descends to allow the ball of fire to bullet itself inside. Slowly, the fire floats down a long hallway. At the end of the hallway, doors magically open and the fireball glides in. The room is quaintly decorated with ornate, gold furniture, and vases of purple flowers are placed attractively around the dimly lit room. The ball of fire hovers in the center of the room before morphing into Olivia. She stands with her hands firmly wrapped around her petite waist, which is wrapped in a fitted purple robe hanging elegantly to the floor. A gold chain adorns her slender neck. Every part of her wardrobe is in place. Her eyes search the room, apparently unsuccessfully; then, she walks to the door, her robe dragging behind her. She yells out, "Roman! Honey?" He doesn't answer. She lifts her hands and the door magically closes. She focuses, eyes fixated on a blank wall in the room. She whispers, "Vladimir?" It's quiet. She closes her eyes and focuses more intently. "VCO VY ASAM MA VEE." Nothing happens. Her eyebrows lift curiously, annoyed. Arms folded, she shifts her weight to one side. "Vladimir!" She shouts. A hint of smoke traces an outline on the wall. Lightning cracks in the room's skylight. A frenzied wind whips her hair into a mess. Lifting her hands, she summons a glass shield to protect her from the harsh winds.

A hologram of Guardian Vladimir's face magically appears, floating on the wall. "Why have you summoned me, Olivia?"

"Oh don't be like that Vladimir, you know we have unfinished business."

"Olivia there isn't much more to say."

Olivia paces the floor as a commander would. She has a plan. "Let's cut the pleasantries. You have something I want and I suggest, no, I _urge_ you to relinquish it now." Olivia steps toward the hologram threateningly. "Because this could get ugly." Guardian Vladimir doesn't budge; instead, the floating hologram magically morphs, and Guardian Vladimir now appears as a full hologram, face-to-face with Olivia. His presence is commanding and absolute. This thrills Olivia. She antagonizes him with a few sarcastic claps. "All this for me? You shouldn't have." In response, the hologram flickers brightly, its energy intense. It's too powerful, forcing Olivia to take a few steps back.

"Olivia, this is not about you."

"When are you finally going to wake up? I'm destined to rule, Vladimir! It's in my blood." Olivia seductively bats her eyes. A snake appears. It wraps around her shoulders and slitters through her fingers. She smiles.

"I'm bored with your antics, Olivia. The power you're seeking doesn't belong to you."

Olivia chuckles. "I am the most powerful witch in all of Volonia! No other warlock or witch stands up to me. It is in my lineage."

"Olivia you wouldn't know power if it was at the edge of your fingertips."

"I'll destroy this planet if I can't rule it!"

"That's a chance that I and the other Guardians will have to take."

"The Good Samaritan act is getting old, Vladimir. It's boring and useless."Guardian Vladimir turns his back to Olivia. She rises to the challenge, her hazel eyes now glowing a bright red. Snakes wrap seductively around her petite frame as she glides forward.

"Let us not forget who gave you those powers, Olivia. The Guardians!"

"I earned them!"

"We are finished here."

"What are you hiding, Vladimir?"

Guardian Vladimir turns towards Olivia, his temper growing, and his voice deeper. "I hide nothing from you."

Olivia pauses, realizing something, and her smirk fades away. "Where is the Vondercrat, Vladimir?"

"You'll never find it."

"But _she_ did!" shouts Olivia. Guardian Vladimir silently morphs back into a floating head. "How did she get the Vondercrat, Vladimir? She's only a Class Six." She screams her frustration at him, "Tell me at once!" Olivia conjures a ball of fire in the palm of her hand and forcefully hurls it at the hologram. The ball passes through the shape, its fire creating an explosive impact on the wall and shaking the room slightly. Olivia stomps in frustration and then morphs into a ball of fire. She crashes through the door, her exit dramatic as she sizzles down the hallway. Her screeching voice echoes through the halls of the castle. "This isn't over, Vladimir!"

Guardian Vladimir continues to float in the empty room, nervously searching for an answer. Slowly he disappears. The faint sound of his voice floats from a distance. "We'll be ready for you, my daughter."

A woman with four-inch heels walks business-like down a hallway. A few spectators gather in the halls whispering among themselves. The woman turns off the hallway and into a circular-shaped room. It resembles a small coliseum. Bleachers ring the outer wall surrounding a large, marble table. This is the Lords' Judging Chambers. A small audience of about one hundred people are scattered about the bleachers, sitting patiently for the judgments to start. The high-heeled woman stands at the center of the floor and motions to a thickly built man who rushes over to her. On the back of his robe reads _Volonia 's Vop cast_.

"Hey Boris, are we all set? We should be starting in about 20 minutes."

"Yes. Everything is set. Shall we do a test?"

The woman lifts a hand. An object with a shape something like that of a microphone appears for her to grab. "Okay, I'm ready," says the woman. The man lifts both hands out in front of him. A beam of light shoots straight out from the palms of his hands, forming a squared electrical image.

The woman combs her fingers through her hair before pulling her gold streak behind her ear. "We are live in the Lords' Judging Chambers for today's sentencing." The man gives the woman a thumb's up, and the lights in the room start to dim.

The woman and man rush over to the side where the audience sits. A massive table rests on a pedestal at the center of the room. Spectators lean in as they ready themselves for the show. Led by a pair of guards with staffs, the five Lords of Volonia enter from a side corridor. They are dressed identically in white robes with gold trim. The robes are heavier than most, and solid gold crowns adorn their heads. Lordess Raven uses both hands to lift her robe as she steps onto the center pedestal. The audience is silent, yet their anticipation is palpable. One man solely applauds and shouts, "Banished from Volonia forever!" A nearby guard frowns upon this outburst.

The Lords take their seats. The room is quiet. The five Lords wait as late spectators scramble for the few remaining seats. Lordess Raven proceeds over the judgments. Her voice carries easily in the stadium-like room. "Thank you for your patience. We may now begin." She nods to a guard and he lifts his staff to open a large, gated corridor. A huge, enclosed, glass case glides from the corridor into the room. Inside it stands a woman, her body pressed against the glass. Clearly, she wants out. Her clothes are slightly torn, and her face is covered in dirt. Lord Vondell sniffs as though sensing something unpleasant, and then averts his eyes.

"How does she plead?" asks Lordess Raven.

The guard speaks loud and clear, "Not guilty!"

The woman yells through the glass, her voice slightly muffled. "I am not guilty my Lords! You've got to believe me! I only wanted to eat."

"Is this her first offense?" inquires Lord Vondell.

Lordess Semelia reads from a scroll; then she stares the woman in the eye and states, with conviction in her voice, "She's a drifter."

Lord Vondell mutters under his breath, "Pathetic."

"I have no food. I needed to feed my young," implores the woman.

"And what did you do with your three daily spells?" asks Lord Vondell, accusingly.

"Well," she stammered, "that's not a lot of spells to start with."

Annoyed, Lord Vondell shifts his attention to his notes. "That is all, thank you."

"If I may inquire," interjects Lord Roman, "what was your class, before your downgrade?"

"Class Five."

The audience gasps. Lordess Raven motions for silence, "Quiet, please! Let us not throw stones."

The woman falls to her knees, clutching her hands together. "Will you spare me, Lords? Will you?"

Lord Vondell rolls his eyes. "Let's vote, or else we'll be here an eternity." A few of the audience members yell out "Pop-in! Pop-in!" "Exile her!" "Downgrade her!"

"Enough! We will sentence her," declares Lordess Raven. She turns to Lordess Semelia. "Lordess, the Law, please?"

"Under Volonia's Book of Law, Amendment V3, stealing of any kind is prohibited. Food, spells, magic or class fraud, all fall under this law. I am sure you understand the eviction from your class for the previous circumstances. As a Drifter, you were given the opportunity to demonstrate that you were capable of living among the Volonian people in an altered state. You have shown yourself to be unable to do so. Please stand for your sentencing."

The woman rises to her feet, desperate for sympathy. She hangs on Lordess Semelia's every word. "Pop-in is your sentenced downgrade."

"No!" yells the woman. The audience waits in anticipation for the final verdict.

"We will now vote," says Lordess Raven as she stands to address the row of Lords. "Pop-in." The four other Lords dramatically rise one by one, each rendering their vote

"Pop-in!" they collectively agree. The woman collapses to her knees. Tears flowing, she yells at the top of her lungs, "VCO VAMORE, my Lords!" her life changed forever.

Lord Vondell's face brightens. "May I do the honors?" Lordess Raven agrees with a nod. Lord Vondell blows toward the woman in the glass case. A mighty wind issues from his lips; it's magical and bright. Suddenly the case is filled with a glowing light, forcing even the audience to shield their eyes. The woman scurries away as the beams move to engulf her. She tries to escape into a corner of the glass box, but there is nowhere to go. The light finds her, and her magic slowly drains away. She is now a Pop-in. She sits motionless as two guards raise their staffs and magically remove the glass case from the judging chamber. Lordess Raven looks on with a face of mixed emotions. She has helped to seal the fate of yet another Volonian. All the Lords stand and raise their right hands toward the sky and utter the word, "Departure." Without warning, Lordess Raven she rises and exits the chamber, her white robe dragging dramatically after her.

Noticing Lordess Raven's departure, Lord Roman chases after her. "We will reconvene in ten minutes."

Lordess Raven attempts to compose herself in one of the holding rooms. Her face is drawn with hurt. A single tear falls from her eye.

Lord Roman enters, concerned, "Lordess, are you all right?"

Lordess Raven hurries to wipe away the tear. "Yes, Lord Roman."

"I am sure you are aware that the duties here can be emotionally draining."

"That's putting it lightly." Lordess Raven walks over to a bench and sits, exhausted. A painting of Guardian Vladimir seems to look down over her heavy-heartedness. "I question if it's all worth it," retorts Lordess Raven.

Lordess Raven fixates on the painting. "How do you think he feels? When we strip one of our own of their class inheritance."

"It's a choice one has to make. If holding this seat is priority." Lord Roman stands.

Lord Roman looks into the distance. He chooses his words carefully and his voice deepens. "If we traded places with that woman, she would do exactly the same thing to you or me." Lordess Raven stands facing the painting, her back to Lord Roman. "Doing what's right for the House of Lords is top priority."

"That's the oath we took," adds Lord Roman. He backs away from the Lordess and turns to exit.

Lordess Raven turns, her tone revealing a renewed calm, yet tainted with sarcasm. "The parallels are quite chilling, don't you think?" Lord Roman takes a step toward the door. "Is exiling Varah and your children the right thing to do for the House of Lords as well?"

Lord Roman seems to be frozen in place, his face emotionless. His sharp intake of breath gives way to a quick reply. "I think you know the answer to that." Lord Roman exits the room, leaving Lordess Raven searching for redemption.

In the main hallway, two guards lead yet another large, glass case. They move quickly to dodge spectators in the crowded hall. Inside the case is a man. He stands six feet, four inches tall- the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. His chiseled physique is revealed as bulging shapes in his robe. His uncovered arms show off his well-toned muscles. His gold streak is a wide, bold swath on top of his perfectly formed head, and his bone structure reflects the idolized perfection of a model. He's simply beautiful. The only aspect marring his appearance is the glowing device around his neck. His bright, hazel eyes dart occasional, unconcerned glances at the spectators in the corridor, who aggressively bang against his glass case. "Drifter!" A man screams out, but the man doesn't flinch. He stares ahead, undisturbed. A second glass case carrying Varah proceeds from the opposite end of the corridor. A look of boredom pacifies her usually demonstrative face. Spectators also bang up against her case, and guards usher them away with their staffs. The two glass cases move towards one another. Unified chants of "Drifter!" and "Pop-in!" echo throughout the corridor. The guards force people out of the way to make room for the passing cases. They are within inches of each other now. A young woman wearing glasses and a very revealing dress winks at the man in the case, but he's focused, staring straight ahead. He doesn't know she exists.

Varah's case comes closer, and soon the man and Varah meet eyes. Her heart thumps. She's caught off-guard by a sudden wave of desire as her eyes take in his masculinity. Her gaze lingers on his full lips, and she examines her pulse. She notices his gold streak, and she whispers, "He's still Volonian; how interesting." The man can't take his eyes off her, either.

His gaze moves up and down her body. Time seems to stop for their moment. The glass cases are the only thing separating destiny and reality. He stares ahead then shouts through the glass, "Guard, who is that woman?" The two cases pass each other- a golden opportunity- lost. "Guard!" The guard continues on his route, ignoring the condemned man.

A large corridor opens, leading into the judgment hall. The glass case, suspended off the ground, floats into the small stadium to an eruption of jeers. Spectators wave their fists angrily at the stunning man. He ignores them. The Lords sit patiently for the glass case to come to a halt. Lordess Raven motions with her hand for the guards to exit. "Case V.V.X, Citizen Melconian Copel has violated Volonia's Class Law."

The man in the case raises his head. He stares into Lordess Raven's eyes and says, "Please, Lordess, Call me Mel."

"Whatever you wish," says Lordess Raven "Do you understand the charges against you?"

The man sits in silence, his countenance cold and his attitude bitter. "Get on with it!" Lordess Raven shifts in her seat, his stunningly good looks catching her off guard.

This prompts Lord Roman to intervene. He shuffles through his notes. "Why were you posing as a Class Six?"

The man grins sinisterly and continues his examination of the glass floor. "Why is that important, Lord? You have a job to do, right?"

Unimpressed, Lord Roman reconstructs his question. "I demand you tell us who you are and why you posed as a Class Six."

The man places his strong, sure hands against the glass. He chuckles at the question. "I am sure you have the capabilities to figure these things out yourselves."

Lord Vondell lifts his hands and magically a hologram of the incarcerated man floats in mid-air. "Sorry, but you have given us no choice." Beside the image, the man's entire statistical history is displayed. "42 cycles old, 1 ex-veil, out of sector three, no prior breaches. Class Five. No immediate home city. He has viable Lord references."

Lordess Raven leans over to Lord Roman. "His record is clean."

"I understand, but why would a Class Five risk everything?" Lord Roman replies.

"Under the circumstances, Melconian Copel, we must strictly follow protocol. Your record reads like that of an orderly Volonian, but under Volonian law, you've breached and failed to comply." The man waves his index finger, ushering the Lords along.

"This act must not go unpunished," says Lord Roman. The man takes a deep breath and rakes both hands through his hair in frustration.

"Can we end this misery already?" he says.

Lord Vondell eagerly stands to vote. "Stealth!"

Lordess Raven reluctantly stands as well. "Stealth."

The remaining Lords stand and agree with their votes of "Stealth!"

The man chuckles sarcastically as he stands and bows to the Lords, his attitude unremorseful. "Job well done, Lords." The audience hisses and cheers in agreement with the Lords' decision. Debris is thrown at the glass case. The guards lift their staffs and the large corridor re-opens. The glass case exits to the excited shouts of the spectators.

Lordess Raven whispers to Lord Roman, "I find it hard to believe that a Class Five would give up everything so readily."

Lord Roman stares after the glass case as it exits the judging chambers. "That's what's so frightening."

The guards use their magical staffs to force the glass case into a small room. A single lantern gives dim light to the space. The man stands alone, glancing around the empty room; his fate is sealed. His glass case slowly vibrates as beams of light illuminate it from the ceiling. The man braces himself as the light seeps into his body, causing him to shiver uncontrollably. His gold streak slowly fades away until it has completely disappeared. He is reduced to Stealth status. He is restricted to three spells a day and cannot shift classes until he is reinstated.

Mel walks to the edge of the glass case, hoping to get a glimpse of life thru the squared hole in the door, but it's too far away. He turns around and suddenly the sexy woman from earlier in the corridor appears before him. She winks at him.

"What do you want?" growls the man.

"If you've forgotten, then maybe you're not the man for the job. Let's not forget what's at stake." The woman morphs into Olivia, draped in a dark robe. It fits her body perfectly. Her gold streak hangs seductively over one eye. "So, do we have a deal?"

"I gave up a lot for this. Stealth?"

"Stop your complaining. You have three spells a day working in your favor. You'll be greatly rewarded. One million Volos, as you well know." Olivia's cocky tone sends Mel into a rage.

His large hands grip her shoulders. "Do we have a deal Olivia?"

"Of course. Would I lie?" Olivia snaps a finger and disappears only to reappear outside the glass case. "Besides, there is someone I want you to meet." Mel curiously walks up to the glass, standing face to face with evil. His hands are pressed up against the glass, displaying their massive strength. "Mel you may not realize this, but the greatest battle Volonia has ever seen will be forged soon, and you're going to have a front row seat, so I suggest you pick a side." Olivia smiles. Her plans have been set into motion. With the blink of an eye she magically brings Mel to the outside of the glass next to her. "Whose side are you on?" Olivia seductively holds her hand out in front of Mel, dangling in expectation of agreement. "What do you say?"

Mel contemplates his decision; He reluctantly places his hand in hers, and they shake. He's made a deal with evil, unaware of what's really at stake. Olivia hovers, exultant. She has one big secret Mel can't afford to let out, and she holds it firmly for ransom.

**Chapter 7**

_The Evil Menace_

A tall man waits cautiously at a TPS station. A purple robe is draped over his head. His feet are bare, and his pale face is covered in tattoos. A massive building shields him from the harsh Volonian sun. A sign in front of him reads LOWER VOLONIA. He places his wrist to the metal box and the portal opens. He enters. When he exits from the other side, he removes his robe from his head. The man, called Molar, looks out at a dark, unsavory, underground city. The contrast between the two Volonian cities is literally night and day. The artificial sky is a dark blue color, and its gloom gives an apprehensive feel to the place. Small caves take the forms of houses; dingy lanterns line the streets, allowing only a bit of light to abate the gloom. Drifters aimlessly pass by, preying on freshly exiled witches or warlocks. Mostly Drifters, Stealths and Pop-ins reside down here. The only hope they have to hold on to is being reinstated within one Volonian cycle. The recently exiled band of Volonians has caused some havoc in Upper Volonia. They demand equality and fairness despite the unanimous opinion by all in Upper Volonia that they are clearly of a lower status. Their demotion came as a result of law breaking and ritual rejections--laws and rituals put forth by the Ancient Guardians to be ruled judiciously by the House of Lords.

Molar continues on his journey, glancing over his shoulder from time to time. He walks to the end of the brick street. His eyes are locked on the ground and focused on his destination. Sensing a large cave straight ahead propels Molar to a quicker pace. A few warlocks have gathered outside the entrance. They are devising a plan to be reinstated into Upper Volonia. Molar approaches the group. "Do you actually think they want you back there?"

"It doesn't matter; it's what I want," one of the men proclaims.

Molar examines the man from head to toe, his expression unforgiving. "You're no more a Volonian than I am."

The man steps aggressively toward Molar, undaunted by his considerably larger stature. "I have nothing to prove to anyone. I belong up there."

"Yeah, sure you do. You just keep on telling yourself that."

Molar turns and walks away. "You have much to prove. What are you, a Pop-in at best?"

The shorter man angrily lifts his arm, his eyes aglow. "VAMOY YO VIC." A barrage of energy shoots from his hands and rushes toward Molar. Unfazed, Molar continues his stride. He feels the energy coming and lifts his head, his eyes now glowing too. He repels the energy, magically forcing it back toward its instigator. The sheer power forces the man into a backwards flip; several bricks tear loose from the ground as his body creates a violent impact with the surface. Dazed and nearly naked, the small man lies unmoving on the street.

"He's a Stealth," says an onlooker.

Molar enters the cave. Puddles of water cover the walkway. The outside light barely reaches into the darkness, making it harder to see the farther he goes. Moreover, the walkway narrows, and he finds it necessary to skim the walls with his hand for guidance. His legs feel suddenly heavy as the path inclines, indicating his journey's approaching end. A ray of light beams across the cave directly ahead. A dark figure glides in his direction but never looks up. As it approaches, a collision seems inevitable, as neither person is yielding for the other. Suddenly, the figure disappears and reappears behind Molar. "Pop-ins, what a joke," Molar says to himself.

He makes it to the end of the cave where the narrow walkway opens into a large, dimly lit cove. The mood is somber in this crowded gathering of warlocks and witches. Their backs are turned to Molar, and their eyes are focused ahead. He tries standing on his tiptoes to get a glimpse of what holds their attention. A deep, ominous voice echoes through the hall, its tone and volume heightening with every word. Molar forces his way through the crowd, most of the patrons resisting his forcefulness by glowering and pushing back. Still, he shoves forward, noticing the transfixed expressions of the others. They are soaking up every sentence, every word. Molar finally stands one row from the front of the crowd. His foot takes its final step forward. He lifts his head, finally in a position to see what holds everyone else mesmerized. He repositions himself between the pressing bodies. Standing before him is a tall man wrapped in a red robe, elevated to an even greater height on a pedestal. He towers over all the onlookers. A hood covers his head, and in this dim place, his pale skin seems to have a glow of its own. Green veins cover half his face; the rest of it seems scaly. He waves his long fingers for emphasis as he speaks, and Molar can see they are covered by tattoos. His body is taut and sinewy. His piercing gray eyes stare out over the reverent crowd. His presence is absolutely commanding.

Zion, a scrawny, younger warlock stands nearby. His hair hangs down his face, which is covered in black spots. He glances over at Molar. "You know who that is?"

Molar stares straight ahead. "That's why I'm here. To find out."

"His name is Menace. He's the most powerful warlock in Lower Volonia."

"He doesn't look so powerful to me."

"Legend has it he was up for Lordship several cycles ago."

"And?"

"And the people didn't approve. He's Class Eight."

"Class Eight? Well why would he be slumming it down here with the likes of you?" Zion takes offense to his statement, but Molar turns away, unconcerned. He shifts his attention toward the speaker.

Menace's powerful voice climbs to a fevered pitch as he steps from the pedestal. His sadistic glare drives a few patrons back. "I am here to give you something they'll never give you: a choice!" Menace's tone suddenly adjusts to the gravity of the message. He paces, his eyes on the floor. He pushes his hands into the folds of his robe. "True judgment is on the brink. Each one of you has a duty- a duty to the exiled Volonian! We must take back what's ours." The crowd cheers in agreement, and several fists shoot toward the sky. "We must forge a battle that will give all Volonians the freedom they seek, and the only way to do that is to bring down the House of Lords!" The crowd cheers in elation, the noise is deafening. Menace puts his hand up, briefly calming the commotion. "One question remains." He steps closer to the crowd, his eyes piercing their souls. His raspy voice lifts with conviction. "Are you with me?" The crowd erupts into a frenzied chaos of anger and hope and pure adrenaline.

A few spectators make their voices heard over the commotion. "We will kill for you!" "Lower Volonia forever!" "Take back our powers!"

Menace's job is done. With a sinister grin, he stares into the crowd. A woman's voice carries over the crowd from the rear of the room. It is aggressive yet flirtatious.

"And if we _don 't_ side with you?" Gradually, a confused hush falls over the rowdy patrons. A woman strolls forward from the rear of the space. The crowd slowly parts as she struts towards the pedestal, creating a clearing in which all can view her. Their eyes are fixed; their mouths drop. It is Olivia. She wears a snug, white robe that falls open to reveal a sexy, purple corset. It's tight, forcing her full bosom to swell at the top. She knows she has the crowd's rapt attention. Mel, bonded to Olivia since their meeting at the Judging Chambers, follows closely behind her. His expression is intimidating, and his stance is strong and on-guard. Olivia reaches the front of the room and stands face-to-face with Menace. She gloats as she looks out into the silent crowd. "Are we too late for the party, Joriyah?" She smiles wickedly, but his grimace reveals pure hate. "Or shall I say, Menace?"

"What do you want?" he snarls.

"I just want to talk. Nothing more. Just a friendly conversation between two old friends." Mel keeps a close watch around the room. Olivia leans in to caress Menace's robe. "Nice..."

"I see Roman finally let the cat out to play."

Olivia, seemingly bothered, turns to the crowd, distain in her eyes. "Get out!" The crowd slowly backs away. "We need to talk. Now." Menace reluctantly lifts his hand and makes a slight pushing motion toward the back. The crowd exits the space. Olivia and Menace face off in the center of the room. "How long are you going to hold these pep rallies, Menace?"

"The day awaits, Olivia, when I will rule."

"And when is that day coming?"

"It is upon us. I owe you no explanation."

Olivia glances over to Mel. "This is Mel. He's a Stealth... for now. We come with a proposition."

"And what might that be?" Menace's stare is intense,

"The power of Volonia." Olivia seductively circles Menace, her tone soft and seductive.

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the Vondercrat." Mel looks on with concern.

"Are you crazy?" Menace says, taken aback. "You'll never get to it. It takes five Lords to retrieve it."

"What if I told you one witch, a Class Six, retrieved the Vondercrat with a single spell."

Menace uneasily paces the floor. "I'm listening."

"Her name is Varah Cutter. She's the ex-veil of Lord Roman."

Menace looks up, surprised. "Lord Roman Cutter?" He glances at Mel, then back to Olivia. "You don't want the blood at your own doorstep, I take it." Mel listens in intently. Olivia lifts her hand and magically a hologram of Varah floats a few feet away.

"You catch on quickly, Menace. They are holding her for sentencing as we speak."

Mel stares at the hologram, and his demeanor shifts. He remembers the woman in the other glass case. " _She_ conjured the Vondercrat?"

Olivia turns toward him. "Yes, do you know her?"

"No, just that she passed me in the Judgment Corridor, that's all."

Olivia steps up to face Mel, her eyes searching his for the truth. "Good."

"How did she do it?" Menace asks.

"She won't tell me."

"But she's a Class Six!"

"Exactly! There is something she isn't telling me, and we need to get close enough to find it."

Menace's tone takes on a chill as he steps away, "You're a Class Eight as well. Why do you need me?"

"I never said I needed you, Menace. You need me. I scratch your back; you scratch mine. Opening a portal into Upper Volonia could slow things down. The House of Lords would trace the portal back to me. So let's just say your rap sheet is perfect for the job."

Menace steps away, staring straight through Olivia, his thoughts focused on one thing: "My share?"

"Once I get my hands on the Vondercrat, you'll have full reign to carry your minions into battle in Upper Volonia. How does one tenth of the spells in the Vondercrat sound?" Menace leans in, unconvinced.

"Fifty-fifty."

Olivia's stars intensifies, her shoulders thrust forward. Her stance is unyielding. "Thirty-seventy." Mel feels the power struggle. He cautiously takes a step away.

Menace finally concedes, and his tone gets lighter, but a sinister grin curls on his face. "Deal."

Mel stands nearby. "And what about _our_ deal Olivia?" Olivia turns toward Mel and then continues to look right past him. She strolls toward the exit, seductive and confident. Menace and Mel share an intense, parallel stare. Then, Menace lifts both arms and black smoke flows out from the bottom of his robe. It rises to cover his entire body. His sinister grin disappears in the smoke. Mel is left alone in the cove.

Shenzara and Broc sit on the floor in a glass case, each occupying opposite sides of the room. Their faces are tense with worry. Broc yells out, his voice carrying across to the other side "What are you doing?"

Not amused, Shenzara lifts her head. Her tone is condescending as she replies, "The same thing you're doing, breathing!"

"No, silly. I mean, what are you thinking?"

Shenzara plays with her bracelet, never looking up. "Nothing!"

"You have to be thinking something. We can't just sit here and not think. It's impossible." Broc playfully swings his legs, staring at his sister with his eyes wide open. "I was thinking what it would be like at the Isle of Waterfalls right now."

Shenzara rolls her eyes, feeling her patience wearing thin. "Broc, can you please just leave me alone?"

Broc stands up, offended. "Sure I'll just leave... NOT! Zara we are in this together. You can't ignore your way out. I believe either Mom or Father will get us out of here." Shenzara stares at the floor, trying to block Broc out. Dejected, Broc sits down again with a look of sadness sliding down his face. "All we have is each other, Zara, we've got to make the best of it." Broc buries his face in his hands, shaken. Shenzara shifts herself on the floor and reluctantly looks over at her brother. A flood of emotions comes over her. She drags herself over to the other side of the case and sits next to him.

"You okay?" Broc ignores her. "Broc!"

"What do you want?"

Shenzara fidgets with her hands as she tries to find the right words. She pushes her dangling, gold streak behind her ear. "I'm sorry. It's just that changing classes is a big thing, and all my friends will have shifted and I'm stuck as a Class Two."

"Zara, how do you think I feel?"

"I know. Of course you feel the same. I honestly didn't see it that way."

"You never do." "I said I was sorry. Don't rub it in." Shenzara leans in and straightens Broc's robe. "I've been wanting to do that for the past hour. It's perfect now."

Broc rolls his eyes, and moves to disorganize his robe yet again.

"Let's ask for Roman," Shenzara says, suddenly hopeful.

"Yeah, good luck with that."

Shenzara leaps up, a new idea giving her a surge of excitement. "Viscera!"

"Duh, why didn't we think of him before?"

Shenzara yells out, clenching her hands together. "Viscera? Viscera!"

A beam of light appears and comes to rest in the center of the glass case. The light quickly dissolves into a lively Viscera. Broc dashes over to Viscera and hugs him. "Calm down, Broc. Don't squeeze so tight," says Viscera.

Unable to waste time with pleasantries, Shenzara asks, "Where did they take Mom?"

"I have no idea, but I can't be here long. They can trace me now."

Shenzara yanks on Viscera's white garment. "Help get us out of here. We have to find Mom."

"Are you crazy? Viscera blinks rapidly. "Security is amped."

Broc pleads with Viscera, his face drooping with pity. This visual appeal hits a soft spot in Viscera's heart.

"All right, but if I go down, we all go down."

"Outside these doors are a spiral staircase leading up to a small tower with a window."

Broc leans in, "How do you know all this?"

"I'm a Guide, Broc. I just do."

Shenzara puts an index finger to her mouth. "Shhh. Go on, Viscera."

"I'll lead you to the door as you go through. Once you make it to the tower, find Lord Roman. He'll help you."

"Okay, got it" says Shenzara.

Broc psyches himself up, jumping up and down as if ready for a big game. "Let's do this!"

"Are you _both_ ready?" After an assuring nod from each kid, Viscera cautiously peeks outside the door. He sees two guards. He glances at Shenzara and Broc, confirming that they're ready. Broc gives him a thumb's up. Viscera pushes both of his hands through the door, grabbing each of the guards' hands and pulling them inward. The guards magically come through the wall, falling to the floor of the glass room. Viscera then grabs Shenzara and Broc's hands and magically pulls them out through the door. One of the guards lunges for Broc's leg as he attempts to escape.

"He has my leg! Help!" His sister and Viscera tug, triumphantly pulling Broc through the door. The force of the pull throws them on top of each other, and they fall into a pile on the floor. "Wow that was fun. Let's do it again!" laughs Broc.

Viscera whispers, "Knock it off." He cautiously glances both ways down the corridor and then points. "The staircase is that way. It leads to the tower."

Broc grabs Viscera's hand, his face frozen with worry. "You're not coming with us?"

"I can't. Go!"

Shenzara grabs Broc's hand she turns to lead her brother in their frantic escape down the hall. Broc glances back to see Viscera waving them forward. Realizing the twins are now completely on their own brings a sense of sadness to his eyes. Slowly he disappears.

Olivia, Menace and Mel stand in the middle of a dark and dingy street in Lower Volonia. Several members of Menace's brood surround them. Olivia motions to Mel, grabbing his collar and forcing him closer to her. "We've got one shot at this."

She nods to Menace, and he lifts both arms as he chants, "VCO LAYA VY VO." Heavy winds tear through the streets. Dust lifts from the pavement. Olivia glances around at the eager faces of the men. Her smirk is sadistic yet determined. A large portal opens in the center of the street, and blinding beams of light jet everywhere. Menace leads the brood into the portal.

On the other side, the portal opens in front of the House of Lords' castle. One by one they exit.

Moments later, a ball of fire races through the sky and quickly comes to rest on a nearby mountain that overlooks the House of Lords. The ball of fire morphs into Olivia and Mel. Olivia stares out at the House of Lords. She turns to Mel and caresses his face. "Adorable."

He forces her hand away and says, "Get on with it, lady."

She's overcome with sadistic laugher. Gradually recapturing her focus, she lifts her head to the sky. "VCO VY SYEE." Olivia forces Mel's hand open. A ball of energy escapes her hand and glides into his. "This will guide you to her, provide you a couple of extra spells, and give them a boost in power. It also opens a portal once you secure her." Mel turns away in defiance.

"What if I don't?" Olivia turns to overlook the House of Lords. "Have you forgotten the secret you're holding? I'll expose you to the Lords." Mel contemplates. He glances out at the House of Lords' kingdom, noticeably troubled. He inhales sharply before clutching the ball of energy and disappearing.

Menace and his brood stand in front of the large, metal gate that surrounds the House of Lords. Menace opens his arms wide and then forces them closed. A vibration of light shoots from his arms and into the castle. The war is waged. Members of the battalion move toward the brick wall. Their leader looks on as his brood clambers onto the castle. They attempt to disappear and reappear into the castle, but a force field restricts their attempts.

Mel magically appears in one of the highest towers. He sneaks down a corridor, tightly griping the ball of energy in his hand. He spies on a few guards patrolling the corridor, so he cautiously ducks into a nearby doorway. Then, held in front of him, the ball of energy guides the Stealth, glowing brighter with each step he takes. Mel reaches the center of the corridor and sees that it leads in four directions. He holds the ball of energy toward each direction in turn. The ball glows brighter as he points it to the east, so he dashes down that hall. Up ahead are a pair of guards who notice him and spring into position for battle. They point their staffs at him. "Halt, Stealth!"

Mel whispers to himself, "Now what?" Lifting the ball, he says, "Here goes nothing." A ray of light bolts out from the ball, but its power is too strong, propelling Mel backward into a wall. But the light finds its mark, and the rays of power crash into the chests of the guards, blasting them into the wall behind them, leaving them unconscious. Upon the force of their impact, the wall comes crashing to the floor, toppling onto the motionless forms of the guards. "They're done for," Mel reassures himself. He manages to get to his knees and crawl over to the now-still ball of energy. "Whoa," Mel breathes as he realizes the magnitude of its power. He brushes himself off and struggles to his feet. Cautiously he crawls toward the fallen guards and peeks behind them into the hole in the wall. Shattered glass is strewn all over the floor. Varah is balled up in a corner, her arms doing their best to cover her head and protect it from the blast. Cautiously, she rises, attempting to see the identity of her savior through the cloud of dust. Mel steps inside, his muscular frame towering over her. "What do you want?"

"Calm down, lady, we're taking a stroll." Mel hears the sound of footsteps in the distance. "We don't have much time. You're coming with me." He grabs Varah, but she pushes him away.

"Where's your streak?" Mel lifts the ball of energy, its glow obscuring her face. "Lady, we can make this hard, or we can make this really hard. It's up to you."

Varah collects herself. She lifts her train and reluctantly walks with Mel through the crumbled wall. Her eyes dart left and right as she attempts to devise a plan of escape. "Remove this neck device, please."

"Do you think I'm stupid, lady? Let's go!" Mel drags Varah down the corridor until she reluctantly starts to run on her own two feet. They race down the open hall with guards immediately giving chase after them, prompting Mel to turn down a second corridor. He lifts the ball, and the energy beam once again shoots out, creating what looks like a tsunami, the impact destroying everything in its path. Varah looks on, unimpressed.

"That's not _your_ magic. What are you, a Drifter? Stealth?"

Mel ignores her and forces her forward. "Quiet!" He shoves Varah up a stairwell. They climb until they reach a door at the top of the tower. Mel peeks inside the door; no one's there. He forces Varah inside before placing the ball of energy on the floor.

Varah leans against a nearby wall, nervous. "What now?"

"I turn you over to her, and I'm a free man."

Sounds of battle can be heard below from a nearby window. Varah peeks out "Menace! You're with him?"

"No, I'm with her."

Smoke seeps from out of the ball of energy as it morphs into a portal. A hologram of Olivia appears inside the portal. "Well, well, well. If it isn't Varah."

Varah backs away. "You can't trust her!"

Olivia speaks directly to Mel. "We have unfinished business. Bring her to me." Mel grabs Varah and cautiously walks toward the portal. Varah's frightened face searches for an escape. Her hands clutch Mel's strong arms. Mel pauses.

"Wait," he says. "How do I know our deal stands?"

Olivia's voice deepens, and her eyes glow a bright red. "Bring her to me!"

Varah pleads, "Don't trust her! Please!"

Olivia lunges through the portal. Her hand wraps tightly around Varah's neck, her freakishly long nails digging into Varah's throat; then, she violently throws her to the back of the room. Varah crashes into a brick wall, blood flowing from her mouth. She is hurt. She hangs her head, cradling her midsection.

Olivia's rant intensifies. "Bring her to me now!"

Mel is unsure, so he assists Varah to her feet. His mind is racing, confused by how this scenario is playing out. Varah can barely hold on, her strength is withering away. Mel lunges for the ball of energy. He grabs it and smothers it with his bare hands, forcing the portal closed.

Varah groans in pain. She reaches a weary arm up to him. "Thank you."

Mel turns away, realizing he may have made a big mistake. "I didn't do it for you." He strides over to the window and sees an assembly of guards. They are forcing Menace and his troops back from the Castle.

Menace stands in the center of his army, his scepter held aloft. The House guards are too powerful for this brood. "This is only the beginning!" Menace cackles.

Lord Roman stands prominently on a balcony inside the castle, taking in the commotion. Menace smiles wickedly, his eyes locking with Lord Roman's. Neither man looks away; hate overtakes them both. Without breaking the lock of their eyes, Menace spits in Lord Roman's direction. "VCO VY LO VOLONIA." A portal opens and Menace and his men quickly retreat. Mel looks away with regret- his shoulders slumped. He shakes his head.

Varah massages her neck. "I'm Varah, by the way."

"They'll be after us."

Varah creeps gingerly over to Mel. "How did you get caught up with Olivia?"

"Long story." Mel moves away from the woman and paces the small room. His mind is wondering, "What is it that she wants?"

He looks Varah firmly in the eye. "You."

Suddenly they hear a loud bang at the door followed by shouts. "Turn yourselves over!"

Mel panics. "We have to go!"

Varah runs over to the window. "Where? No! I have to find my kids!"

"No time, lady." The doors crash down. Mel lifts the ball of light. "VY VCO ALA VCO." A portal opens. Mel grips Varah by the arm, forcing her inside. A few guards rush into the room, pointing their staffs at the portal, but it dissolves into thin air. Lord Roman forces himself into the empty room, his eyes darting around, unable to see the one thing he'd hoped to find. He heaves a heavy sigh; all hopes of securing Varah have failed. A new battle has begun for the House of Lords, and it is one that he is all too familiar with. An old foe has resurfaced, and this time his intentions could lead to the end of Volonia as we know it.

**Chapter 8**

_The Capture_

Mel and Varah step out of the portal and into darkness. The stillness is frightening at first, but then it feels comparatively peaceful after their last encounter. Unfamiliar with the surroundings, Varah turns to Mel, "Where are we?"

Mel grabs both of her hands and begins to wrap what seems like twine around them. Varah tries to back away, but, without her powers, she is no match against his strength. "What are you doing? Stop! That hurts!"

Mel stares at her. "I'm all done." Varah looks down at her hands, eyeing the complicated knot. "Not even a Class Six witch with all her powers can get out of that."

A frustrated Varah asks again, "Where are we?"

"We're in The Hidden Forrest." Mel grabs the rope and yanks it forcefully. Varah is forced to follow him.

"You don't have to be so rough. It hurts!"

Without looking back, Mel says, "If you keep up with my stride, I won't have to pull so hard. We don't have much time. Hurry."

Varah tries hard to keep up, but she stumbles over a tree root. "Where are we going? Where are you taking me? What about my kids?" Varah yells all of this insistently, but getting no response, she stops and yanks back on the rope with all her strength.

Surprised at the intensity in her force, Mel stops. He turns back to look her in the eye. "Look, I understand your frustration, but I trusted you. Now you have to trust me! If we are going to get away and escape from this Olivia, you must trust me! I'm taking you to a safe haven."

Varah gazes into his eyes, searching for a lie, some hint of deception. Unable to find any, she hesitantly replies, "All right."

"Good. Let's move."

As Varah begins to look around, she notices the thick layer of fog that shrouds even this Lower Volonia darkness. The heaviness of the thick trees compounds the effect. She feels completely bare in a strange land without the use of her powers. She looks to her left as something rustles in the bushes. She gasps.

"What?"

"Nothing," she responds, not wanting to seem weak. She refrains from telling Mel what she saw, but her eyes shift nervously along the bushes. "Can we get a bit of light? It would make this journey a little easier."

Mel says, "VANDUCIO VALLUR," and a flash of light spreads out along the ground. Their path is illuminated, the light consistently stretching five feet ahead of their next step.

"Thanks."

Unsure of her sincerity, Mel replies, "You're welcome."

Varah moves up closer to Mel and asks, "Can you give me some idea as to where our final destination is?"

The barrage of questions bothers Mel, but upon realizing that they're not going to stop, he replies, "The Invisible Fortress."

Varah repeats, "The Invisible Fortress?" She chuckles. "That's old Volonian folklore. Impossible, it doesn't exist!"

Insulted, Mel turns to Varah. "Is it as impossible as a Class Six witch conjuring the Vondercrat?" Varah struggles for words. "Exactly."

"Go ahead."

"The Invisible Fortress is a place where members of the Vamede, an army of selected Volonians, practice magic spells and prepare to protect Volonia in case we're ever attacked. We are hand selected by the Lords and approved by the Guardians."

"You were a part of the Vamede?"

"I _am_ a part of the Vamede. Once a member of the Vamede, always a member of the Vamede. In order to keep everything safe and hidden, the Lords propositioned the Guardians to send us to Lower Volonia. Those Volonians had limited powers, so no one, even if they desired, could come up against us. The Guardians placed a spell on the fortress, making it invisible."

"I've heard about the Vamede; my father served. He used to leave a few times a cycle when I was a little girl. My nana said he was going to bring us back gifts, but the older I became I realized he must have been part of the Vamede. I didn't know the fortress was invisible; I thought that was just folklore."

"You were not supposed to know. The Guardians have severe penalties to anyone who leaks that information."

"So why are you telling me this?"

"I have a past that has haunted me for cycles. I have nothing to lose."

Varah and Mel continue making their way through the forest. "Enough about me; what about you?

"What do you want to know?"

"Well, first and foremost I'd like to know how a Class Six witch conjured the Vondercrat."

"I don't know. I just repeated a spell that I remember my father saying, and it just came!" There is a long silence. "I'm sorry if my tone seems inappropriate; I just miss my kids, and I have been hearing talks of my being exiled."

"What are their names?"

"Broc and Shenzara," replies Varah.

"Those are unique names, different."

"Well, as you know, no two Volonians can have the same first name, so after millions of names being chosen, you get kind of creative."

"I know a thing or two about the Lords, and while I can't tell you if they will exile you or not, I find it hard to believe that they would separate a mother from her kids."

Varah breathes a sigh of relief. "Thanks, I needed to hear that. Do you know of any exiled Volonians?" she asks.

"It's rare, but I do know a couple of exiled Volonians." Still unsatisfied with Varah's answer about the Vondercrat, Mel attempts to probe a bit more. "So are you going to tell me how you really conjured the Vondercrat, or do you expect me to believe that the Guardians would make it that easy for a Class Six to get a hold of it?"

Varah becomes enraged. "I'm telling the truth! If I knew that I really would have been able to do it, and that it would have led to this, I would never have repeated that spell!" Suddenly her hair starts to rise, wind begins to blow, and her eyes turn from hazel to a glowing red as she rises from the ground. Frightened, Mel backs away.

"Calm down!" he yells. Then, her Vicklor shocks her with an electric pulse, and she falls.

Mel catches Varah in his arms. "Varah! Varah, wake up!" Her eyes slowly open. Mel's eyes sink into Varah's. He is mesmerized by her beauty. He notices her deep, brown complexion, her long dark mane and prominent golden streak. He holds her until she has fully awakened. Weakened from the electric charge, Varah looks into Mel's deep and troubled eyes; she is also completely entranced. She is amazed by his strength and masculinity. Enjoying the moment, she lingers in his arms, watching his beautiful veins rippling through his tight skin and along his muscular body. After a moment too long, Varah catches herself, not wanting to seem overly interested, and pulls away. Mel helps her up. There is a silence between them- an understanding.

Mel grabs the rope, pulls her forward, and cuts the portion of the rope that binds her hands. "Follow me; we're almost there." Surprised by the gesture, Varah nods and begins walking at a slightly faster pace. They move together toward the invisible fortress.

As Varah and Mel near their destination, Mel notices a four-legged creature running in the distance alongside of them. It's moving at twice their speed. He extends his hand toward Varah; she grabs it, and they begin to run. Varah looks to her left and sees three creatures moving at a ridiculously fast speed. She whispers to Mel, "We're being chased by Mali!"

"I know, hurry!" They run faster, their hearts beating hard in their chests. The faster they run, the more the Mali duplicate in number and in speed.

"We can't outrun them!" Varah shouts. "They duplicate based on how much fear they sense from their prey. Do you have any spells left?" she asks, panting, nearly out of breath.

"Just one," says Mel.

"Remove my Vicklor!"

"What?" asks Mel, hardly able to breathe. "Do you think I'm insane?"

"Remove my Vicklor! Your last spell can't handle all the Mali, but my powers can!" Realizing he has no other choice if he wants to escape, Mel looks around. The Mali are closing in on them. Their vicious yellow teeth drip at the sight of a delicious meal. They close in, snapping their powerful jaws at the pair. Their sleek white fur and purple eyes zero in, ready to charge. "Do it!" yells Varah.

"VENVENTI VEREAR!" Mel shouts, regretting the words as they pass his lips. Her neck device drops to the ground. The Mali close in, now only inches away from Mel's face. Their breath is hot.

Varah rubs her neck and immediately chants, "VANDISCO BARRE VAONDULVO VON!" The ground shakes. Mel and Varah rise off the ground, but not before one of the Mali lunges, sinking its jaws into Mel's leg.

"My leg! Ahhhh!" screams Mel. Varah's eyes turn from hazel to glowing red. Her hair rises on her head. Mel screams again, "Ahhhh!" The pain is piercing. He doesn't know what's happening. His skin turns from its golden brown to a dull, dark grey. He holds his leg trying to keep the blood from seeping out as he rises from the ground. The wind blows fiercely and the Mali jumps in the air, snapping their fangs. Some are on the ground fighting over the chunk of flesh ripped from Mel's leg.

Varah shouts, "VENYATI VALLOW!" and the ground beneath them swallows up the Mali. The predators vanish one by one, howling as they disappear beneath Lower Volonia. "VENYATI VOWN," Varah chants. The two descend back to the ground. Varah lands gracefully while Mel lands with a thump. The wind ceases, and the ground stops shaking. Varah, her eyes still flickering red, turns to Mel. His leg is bleeding and his skin is slowly draining of its color. Varah quickly floats toward him and wraps her hands around his neck. "VENYATI VAYEAL," she whispers.

A sharp pain penetrates Mel's neck. He lets out a piercing scream. He looks at Varah and moans, "I trusted you," his last words before he falls to the ground, completely lifeless.

**Chapter 9**

_Forbidden Love_

Vamo begins to set. A canopy of trees surrounds Lower Volonia, blocking its rays. Darkness rules over the night. The wind blows swiftly, prompting Varah to pull the hood of her robe over her head. She walks alone in the night, trying to forget about the episode that happened a few hours ago. "Vanducio Vallur," she proclaims, and a small beam of light illuminates her path. She stops and looks around. She thinks she hears something. She examines her surroundings, but everything seems calm. She keeps walking, unsure if she is headed in the right direction. She looks down and sees a trail of blood. "I must be close." She notices a stream of water a few feet away. She hurries over. "Vaventi Vondo." A small cloth and bucket appear in her hand. She fills the bucket with water and resumes her journey. Every step she takes she notices more blood. She panics and begins running. Her surroundings start to look familiar again. "This is the place," she declares, completely out of breath. She dashes over to a nearby tree and almost drops the bucket to the ground. Quickly she grabs the cloth and dips it into the bucket, dampening it. She takes the cloth and places it gently on Mel's head. Mel begins to awaken. The first thing he sees as his eyes come into focus is Varah. He tries to back away but realizes he can't move his leg. Varah is dabbing at his head and says, "Calm down." He looks around, confused. His shirt is ripped, revealing his firm chest.

"What did you do to me?"

"You were attacked by the Mali. They took a good gash out of your leg."

Mel looks down and sees that it's badly bruised, but still intact.

"What did you say?"

"Excuse me"?

"What did you say before I passed out? You said some spell, I felt some tingling in my neck, and that's the last thing I remember."

"That was a spell to keep the Mali venom from poisoning the rest of the blood in your body. You lost quite a bit of blood; that bite almost killed you." There was an awkward silence. "Did you think I was going to turn on you, Mel?"

Mel feels helpless. He looks uncomfortably at Varah's beautiful hazel eyes and sees that she is offended. "I don't know. I did capture you, and I did take the Vicklor off your neck. I didn't know what you were capable of, or if you were still upset. I didn't know if you were a woman of your word."

Varah gazes down at Mel and uses the cloth to wipe away the remaining blood from his leg. "Well, hopefully your questions have been answered," Varah replies.

Trying not to show his vulnerability any further, Mel asks, "How long before my leg is fully functioning again?"

Varah places her hand on his heart, her warm hands planted firmly on his cold, bare chest. He immediately relaxes at the warmth of her hand. She counts his heartbeats, his body gaining warmth and strength with her touch. He doesn't bother to say anything when her long, dark hair grazes his shoulder. "Your heartbeat is a lot stronger than it was a few minutes ago. One more spell and you should be back to normal." She moves to pull away from Mel, afraid she has already demonstrated too much compassion, but she knows that one more spell will do the trick. She puts her hand gently on his bulging thigh, trying to resist looking into his eyes, or anywhere else for that matter, and chants, "VAVENTI VAMEAL." Her hand starts to glow, the healing power transferring from her hand to his leg. The scar heals before their eyes, and his skin returns to its original caramel color. Realizing her hand is still on his leg long after it is healed, Varah quickly removes it and stands nervously.

Mel jumps up, pleased to have a fully functioning leg, and grateful to Varah for all she has done. He grabs her hand and pulls her up against his chest. "Thank You." Varah looks up into his eyes, for the first time recognizing how tall he is. She is just inches away from his full lips. She attempts to back away, but Mel has his hand locked on the small of her back. Her eyes slowly close, and her heart suddenly beats twice as fast. His heart beats in sync with hers. Their lips touch. They kiss. Unable to resist the temptation before her any longer, Varah slowly raises her arms and wraps them around his neck.

Mel runs his hands through her full hair, his index finger slowly moving down the center of her back.

"I've watched you since they day our glass entrapments passed each other. When I saw you again, I knew it was fate, the Guardians, the stars, _something,_ bringing us together. I knew then that I had a choice to make.

His lips press softly on hers, their tongues being introduced for the first time. Varah no longer resists. Mel gently lifts her and then lays her on the forest floor. He removes the remainder of his ripped garments and positions his muscular frame over her gorgeous, petite body. They begin to kiss passionately, her legs entrapping his manliness, their bodies intertwined. His chest presses against hers. Their lips part, their eyes lock, her golden streak inflamed.

After a luscious, lingering moment, Varah's eyes open. Her head is resting against Mel's chest. "Mel..." Hearing no response, she says again, "Mel."

His eyes open. He looks down and puts his hands into her hair. "Good morning."

"Morning? It looks like it's about midnight," replies Varah.

"Welcome to Lower Volonia. The trees block Vamo's limited light, so it still appears dark," he explains.

"I must find my kids. VAYVENTI VODURE," chants Varah. She is fully clothed in a sleek, silver robe with a complementing purple blouse. She ties her hair up.

"Aren't we getting a bit overdressed?"

"I'm not overdressed. This is casual attire." Mel chuckles. Varah hands him a shirt out of her satchel. He takes the shirt, making sure to caress her hand as he does. She pulls her hand away.

"You don't waste any time, do you?" he says with a frown.

"And you don't have any kids, do you?" is her curt reply.

Mel ignores her last words. He sits on a nearby rock and puts on his shirt. "Have any food in that satchel of yours?"

Impatient, Varah pulls out a puffstry and a vandicup and hand them to him. He breaks the vandicup in half and hands half of it to Varah. "I've already eaten." Mel keeps his hand extended and motions for her to take the vandicup. She doesn't.

"What's next?" asks Varah.

Mel is not sure if she's referring to what happened between them last night or to getting her kids back, so he assumes the latter. "Well, if my calculations serve me correct, we should be less than a twenty-minute walk from the Invisible Fortress. You will be safe from Olivia and Menace there."

Mel and Varah grab the rest of their things and continue walking toward the fortress, the light still illuminating their path.

After only a few minutes' progress, a huge, black cloud of smoke rises from the ground and gradually takes form. Alarmed, Varah defers to Mel. "What's happening?"

"I don't know," Mel says hesitantly, not wanting to startle her. "Make yourself invisible."

"What? I can't just leave you here; you have no more spells." The smoke continues to morph. The chest forms, the arms, the head.

"Varah, disappear! I will be fine."

Reluctantly she says, "VAVENTI VISVEAR," The smoke continues to form, the nose, ears and eyes come into view. When the formation is complete, Mel recognizes the figure all too well. Even appearing as a ghost-like apparition, this is clearly Menace.

"Where is she?" he demands.

"Who are you speaking of, Menace?'

"Are you protecting the one who holds the secret to the Vondercrat? I didn't take you for the type of guy to take orders from a woman."

Menace's smoke-like figure grabs for Mel's neck. Varah sees this and attempts to cast a spell, but Mel turns his head in her direction with a glare of warning. Menace tries to cut off Mel's circulation, but his apparition has only a fraction of his actual power, so his hand goes right through Mel's neck. In a complete rage, Menace stands in his shadowy form and bellows, "Where is she?" His evil voice echoes through the forest and makes the hair on Mel's arms rise, but still, Mel doesn't flinch, "I see you escaped my Mali," Menace continues. "I know she's around here somewhere."

"Your power is limited here," Mel reminds him.

"Is it?" Accepting the challenge, Menace transforms into Broc.

"Mom, don't abandon us for him."

Varah covers her mouth, unwilling to break her cover, but her eyes begin to fill with tears.

Enjoying the game, Menace transforms from Broc into Shenzara.

"Mom! Help us! We need you!"

Fiercely struggling to maintain composure, Varah still doesn't make a sound.

Tiring of his own antics and eager to get on with the mission, Menace transforms back into himself. His ghost-like figure glides around Mel, a disgusted look on his face. "Two million Volos," says Menace. "That should be enough to appease the scummy Stealth that you are. But I sense you want more..." Menace disappears and reappears behind Mel, whispering an offer Mel can't refuse into his ear. "...maybe...10 million Volos." Mel's mind starts to race. "Don't give an answer now," Menace continues." I don't know where your little lady friend is, but I'm sure she's watching." Menace looks to his right, searching for any sign of Varah, not realizing she is only inches away. She holds her breath as he turns to his left, his eyes roaming the forest for any hint of her existence. "Clever little witch she is, for a Class Six." Menace pauses for effect, to give Mel time to contemplate. "If you accept my terms, then bring her to me at Mount Vanuse when Vamo is half past the moon." Mel gives a slight nod. The black smoke that is Menace draws back into the ground and disappears.

"Varah! Varah!"

"VAVENTI VAVEAR," Varah's voice announces from a space to his left, and then gradually the voice is matched with her entire, visible body. "How was Menace able to get here?"

"He wasn't here; it was an apparition."

"I thought this forest was protected."

"It is. That's why he couldn't do any harm." Mel tries to comfort her, but she moves away.

"Ten million Volos? I can't compete with that. Just turn me in, collect your reward and free yourself. You'll be able to start your life over again in another sector of Volonia."

Mel turns to Varah, "What about you?"

Varah looks at him, and says "I can't think about anything until I find my kids." Tears are shining in her eyes as Varah drops her head.

Mel gently grabs her chin and lifts her head. "I wouldn't dream of taking you away from your twins. We're only five minutes from the Invisible Fortress. I can take you there to keep you safe."

Varah sniffs back some tears and smiles at Mel. "That is a generous offer that I would love to take, but my children aren't just any children. They are the twins of Lord Roman. He would search every sector and use all the forces of Volonia to find us. Remember, I conjured the Vondercrat, so they're going to keep searching for me until they find me. "

"What do you propose we do then?" asks Mel.

"It's not pleasant, but the only way I'm going to see my kids is if I turn myself in to the House of Lords."

"Why would you do that?" He turns and walks away.

She follows, her voice trembling, "It's the only way!"

"What if they... What if they...?" Mel pauses, but Varah finishes his sentence.

"Exile me?" She pauses, playing out a thousand scenarios in her head. "What if they don't?" She turns to Mel. "I was nervous about it too, but the more I thought about it, the more I was sure about it. They need a majority vote to exile me. You yourself even stated you don't think the Lords will separate a mother from her children. Roman might not be fond of me anymore, but he wouldn't dare exile his children. I'm a great friend of Lordess Raven, and she wouldn't exile me, either. The odds are in my favor. So will you deliver me to the House of Lords?"

Mel ponders the question before giving his answer. "Yes. I don't approve of the notion, but it seems as if it's our only option."

Varah, extends her hand, she urges Mel, "Grab my hand." She reaches out.

"What are you about to do?"

"I'm opening a portal to the House of Lords."

A hesitant Mel clutches her hand while Varah recites, "VONDUSH VANYE VAVENTI VORDS."

A strong wind surges into the space; a spinning vortex of blue light appears, inhaling everything in its path. "We don't have much time. The portal will close in 30 seconds." Varah steps through, shielding her eyes from the forceful wind that is kicking up clouds of violently spinning dust. Mel follows, their hands never parting.

Within moments, the portal opens up into what appears to be a small passageway not far from the House of Lords. The force of the portal sends Mel and Varah tumbling and crashing into a wall. A glass statue shatters to the floor, startling the guards at each end of the foyer. The guards charge at Varah and Mel. Varah raises her hand and says, "VAYVENTI VUP," causing the guards, only steps from reaching the two travelers, to float from the ground, high enough for Mel and Varah to calmly walk away underneath them.

Quickly, they reach a door inscribed with VCO VAN VOSSY. "That's ancient Volonian for _House of Lords,_ " Varah whispers, and then continues, "VAVENTI VUNVOCK." The door opens. "VVENTI VOWN," and the guards fall to the ground in a clatter of helmets, spears and bones. "VAVENTI VAVOCK." The doors close behind them. Varah turns to Mel, "Through that door are the Lords' Chambers."

"Are you sure you want to proceed with this Varah"?

She nods. "If you deliver me to them, Mel," says Varah, you might find favor with them." Mel grabs her in his arms and kisses her. He caresses her face, gazing lingeringly into her eyes. Then, "VAVENTI VOVEN," but nothing happens. "My magic must be restricted here."

Suddenly, the giant double doors that lead into the Lord's Chambers swing open. Lord Roman bolts out and shouts, "Who goes there?"

"It is I, Melconian Copel." He kneels before the Lords. "I bring to you Varah Cutter, and I ask that you place an arc of protection over her and her children."

"How did you get in here?" demands Lord Topher.

Varah steps forward. "I opened a portal that brought us here, Lord Topher."

"Where is your Vicklor?" asks Lord Vondell.

"I removed it with my last spell," proclaims Mel.

"But you're a Stealth; you don't possess that kind of power," Lord Roman protests in confusion.

"I was summoned to kidnap Varah by a person who shall remain nameless. That person gave to me a ball of power, and with it, my spells received a boost in power."

"SILENCE!" yells Lord Roman. He glides over to Mel, who slowly rises. "Who gave you this power?" Mel looks him in the eye but doesn't utter a word. Lord Roman waves his hand, and in a flash, Mel flies, crashing into a brick wall. "Who gave you the power?" His hand is now firmly flexed around Mel's neck. Mel's feet sway, inches off the floor.

"Roman, stop!" screams Varah.

Lord Roman snaps his fingers. A Vicklor flies toward Varah and bolts itself around her neck. "Varah... a Stealth? I expected more from you."

"Lord Roman that is enough!" Lordess Raven appears and now stands at his side. Lord Roman releases his grip, and Mel falls to the ground.

Lord Vondell sits in his chair, his legs casually crossed, looking completely amused. He slowly begins to clap. "I didn't know you had it in you, Lord Roman." Lord Roman turns, his eyes a deep burgundy and his golden streak glowing fiercely. His raised palm, facing toward Lord Vondell, begins emitting beams of light aimed directly at his adversary. In response, Lord Vondell raises both of his hands upward, causing a silver force field to rise from the ground, absorbing the beams while shielding him and everything around him. He continues laughing maniacally. "The infamous Lord Roman," bellows Lord Vondell.

Lord Roman yells "Guards! Take them to the dungeon. Put an arc of protection on her. VAVENTI VOVEN." The doors burst open, and he marches out of the chambers.

As Lord Roman exits, Lord Vondell motions for the guards to cease. He steps closer to Varah. "Ms. Vondercrat, I have the perfect place for you." A sinister grin sweeps across his face.

**Chapter 10**

_Flashback_

Night has fallen over Volonia. The House of Lords is calm for the moment. A few guards march down a bricked corridor. Mel reluctantly follows behind them, the hood on his robe covering his face, and his eyes are fixed on the floor. Outwardly he is subdued and obedient, but inside he is in furious turmoil.

The guards pause at a small room where the door is ajar. They force Mel inside. He pushes back until one of the guards lifts his staff, sending a ray of power into Mel's chest, violently forcing him to the ground. He immediately rises to his feet, his temper flared. "Is that the best you've got?" The Vicklor on his neck starts to glow as he moves toward the guards. Suddenly, the power from the neck device restricts his advances, forcing him to the floor. The guard lifts his staff for a second round.

A second guard stops him. "He's a Stealth. He can hardly defend himself." The first guard nods, and they both laugh as they exit the room, locking the door behind them. Mel's lifeless body lies still on the floor. The holding room is heavily insulated, sealing off the sound of his wounded whimpering. He cradles his chest before looking up at the metal door. Clutching the back of his neck, he slowly rises to his feet and moves cautiously towards the door. He places his ear to the center to listen, but he can't hear anything. He bangs on the door. "Let me out of here!" The two guards stand motionless on the outside. Hearing nothing, they hold their position.

Mel paces the room; he's anxious, and his eyes are glued to the door. Then, he feels his feet shift a few inches to the left, then to the right. The room seems to be moving, and it's an effort to hold his position. His eyes struggle to stay focused on the ground, on the wall, on anything at all. He spies a small pile of dirt beneath a hole on a nearby wall, and as he's watching, some more dirt falls from the wall to the floor. His curiosity heightens. Nervously, Mel takes a few steps away from the door, ready for battle. He stares intently. Something's coming. A beam of bright, white light bleeds gradually under the door; then, the door bursts open, the light forcing Mel to look away. He is powerless against what's coming. Lord Roman glides powerfully into the room, his eyes glowing. He descends with his hands folded commandingly underneath his robe. He engages Mel in a stare-down, neither man willing to let up.

"Where is she?" Mel shouts.

Lord Roman shouts back in response, "Tell me your business with Varah, Stealth!"

"Remove this device and I'll show you!" Mel lunges at Lord Roman, but Lord Roman lifts a hand and suddenly Mel is dragged backward, his heels digging into the hard, brick floor.

"I'll say it again. Tell me your business with Varah!" Mel stands silently, his face full of disdain.

Lord Roman's eyes glow a bright golden color. "That wasn't a question, prisoner." Mel holds his tongue, his stubbornness once again getting him into trouble. He stalks around the confined space; then, pushing the battle of pride a step further, he leans causally against a nearby wall, striking a position of inflexibility.

Lord Roman settles his shoulders; he balls his hand into a fist and squeezes. "VCO VY MAVO." Magically, Mel's neck brace tightens, squeezing the breath out of him. His eyes water as he searches for air. He falls to one knee. "Tell me what you want with her." Lord Roman's voice is deeper and more chilling. "This can be over quickly, Stealth, or this can take as long as you allow it to." Lord Roman steps toward Mel, a look of desperation in his eyes. "I must know at once!" Mel collapses to the floor, his life moments from its end.

Suddenly, a voice calls from the hallway. "Lord!" Lordess Raven stands at the threshold, shocked at what she sees. "Lord, don't! It's not worth it!" Mel gasps for his last breath as Lord Roman slowly opens his hand. Mel pants for air as he crawls to the feet of Lord Roman.

Lord Roman kneels, their eyes meeting in the center of the room. He whispers into Mel's ear. "This isn't over, Stealth." Lord Roman glides out of the room, Lordess Raven following swiftly behind him. Lord Roman lifts his hand and forces the door to slam behind him.

Lordess Raven scurries to catch up to him. "Lord! Lord! What happened back there?"

Lord Roman stops and descends to the floor of the corridor. "We need answers, Lordess. I'm not going to sit and let Volonia fall."

"We can't fight fire with fire, or we will surely all perish. We have to be rational. We don't know what he knows."

Lord Roman turns to Lordess Raven, his eyes focused. "He is a Stealth!"

"And what does that mean? Is he not a Volonian?"

"He was, Lordess."

Lordess Raven turns away, concern written on her face. She searches for the right words. "What is this really about, Roman?"

"I explained, Lordess, I think you're questioning the wrong person." Lordess Raven folds her arms, one foot braced forward. "We don't know what he knows about the Vondercrat. We must follow Volonian protocol to conduct proper proceedings."

"I'm conducting proceedings my way. That's why I'm Head Lord!"

Lord Roman has had enough. He quickly turns, his robe whipping up against Lordess Raven's body as he strides away.

Lordess Raven musters up the composure to shout, "Or is this about her?"

Lord Roman halts. He pauses before turning back. "Her?"

"Yes her. Varah."

Lord Roman walks back to Lordess Raven. "You're wrong, Lordess. This has nothing to do with Varah."

"Oh, but it does. Her Prince finally arrives and you don't like it."

Lord Roman's voice lowers as he moves in closer. "What are you talking about? I only care to protect what the Guardians of Volonia entrusted me to...."

"Entrusted _us_ to do, Lord!" Lordess Raven has heard enough. She pushes past him with a haughty exit. Lord Roman is left standing alone, his thoughts taking him elsewhere. His eyes follow Lordess Raven's back until she disappears down the long corridor.

Lord Vondell and Lord Topher sit in an empty room waiting patiently in front of two large doors. The sound of several feet is heard approaching from the distance. Two guards are holding Varah by the arms, dragging her forward. The Vicklor is safely secured around her neck. Beneath it she dons a silver robe. "This is getting old, Lords!" Lord Vondell glances at Varah. His face is contorted in a look of disgust. He motions for the guards to bring her toward the two large doors. Varah points. "What's in there?"

Lord Topher glides over to her. "Varah, you're high risk. We must keep you secure until your sentencing."

"What? What are you talking about?" Lord Vondell gives a signal to the guards who place their wrists to the metal box near the doors. The doors slowly open, a loud screech echoes in the mysterious space behind. Varah looks on, frightened. She peers into the dark space. Lord Vondell signals once again to the guards. One of the guards uses his staff to force Varah toward the door. The other guard takes a step back, a wary look on his face indicating that what's in store for Varah probably isn't going to be pleasant. "I demand to speak to Roman!"

Lord Topher ignores her request. "Calm down, Varah. Your sentencing is tomorrow. You can talk to him then."

Lord Topher pulls Lord Vondell to the side, away from Varah. "Is this really necessary?"

"Of course it is."

Varah struggles to free herself. "Lords, will you please remove this blasted device?"

Lord Vondell smiles, sarcasm seeping into his voice. "I think you might want to keep that on, actually. Step in!"

"But I can't see."

"That's the whole point, Ms. Cutter." Varah lifts her hand hoping to use her magic. "VCO VY COO VY," but she immediately remembers the purpose of the Vicklor and gives up.

Lord Vondell glides toward Varah, and says, tauntingly. "This is the one place no one can get in or out. Enjoy your stay."

One of the guards whispers to the other, "It's the Demon's Drop." As she moves towards the darkness, Varah's neck device glows brightly, providing a bit of light as she tries to peer inside the room.

Suddenly, Lord Vondell yells. "Step In!" His voice sends a rumble throughout the room, startling Varah and causing her to stumble into the room. Gravity propels her forward, and she soon realizes there is no floor. She plunges into the darkness. Her robe flaps in the heavy wind, her arms spread open. She attempts to grab at something solid, but there is nothing, only void. Her body rotates as she free-falls, and she attempts to adjust her position in midair, but the pull is too strong. Panic takes over, and she screams at the top of her lungs, her voice echoing in the darkness.

She continues to fall for what feels like an eternity; then, she notices that she is not in utter darkness any longer. What looks to be small, glowing minerals are embedded throughout the surrounding walls, their glow providing a hint of light. As her falling body rotates, she notices a massive crater coming up fast beneath her. The glowing minerals circling around the walls of the crater, increase in size and frequency until they are bright enough to shoot beams of light from every direction towards her neck device. The rays stabilize her, helping to guide her through the bottomless space. Her falling slows; then, she hovers in midair. Her eyes search the crater. The minerals sparkle all around her.

"What a drop!" she says to no one in particular. The rays of light, forming a sort of a spoke pattern, create a glowing floor beneath her feet. She descends lightly, slowly. Her hair is completely disheveled, and her robe is in utter disarray. She gives a reluctant pat to her neck device. "Never thought I'd say this, but thanks." She pushes her hair from her face and checks her long train resting on the glowing surface. She turns quickly. "What in the heavens...was that?" Varah glances around the huge crater. "Hello? Hello?" No one answers. She notices a few prison cells surround her. They are small, dark and empty and protected by golden bars. Varah shouts, her voice bouncing off the endless walls. "This is ridiculous!" Within moments, we hear the doors from above screeching open again, followed by loud screams. Varah searches into the darkness above her head, the screams falling closer and closer.

Broc comes plunging down. Varah yells up to him. "Broc! Is that you?"

Broc stops abruptly, suspended upside-down. The circling rays guide his neck device toward the glowing surface. He does a back flip and lands right side up on the glowing surface. "Mom!" Varah and Broc run to each other, they embrace. "Another strange reunion?" Broc exhales, delighted to see his mother. His arms wrap tighter around her.

Varah cuts the welcome short, forcing Broc to an arm's length away. "Where's Zara?" Broc points to the sky. Shenzara floats down, completely composed, her arms in their typical position: folded against her chest. Aside from the stillness of her body, the wind whips her hair all over the place. She maintains a look of ease on her face as the beams help guide her to the glowing floor. "Shenzara!" Varah walks over to her, her arms open.

Shenzara considers before accepting the hug. "Mom, don't do that."

"Don't do what?"

"Don't leave us like that. It's not becoming of you as a mother." The three share a smile.

"What happened to you two?"

Broc, still excited, rushes his words, his face animated. His body shifts back and forth. "Viscera came and helped us! But then Roman found us and they brought us here."

"Lord Roman sent you here...? Wait. Calm down, take a breath."

"How can I calm down after that fall? It was great! You think they'll let us do it again?" Broc leaps up and down, mimicking the fall. Varah smiles, she's happy to be reunited with her twins, but her happiness is short-lived.

"So tomorrow is the big day."

Broc's smile fades. "What big day?"

Varah turns away, struck with regret. "Judgment." She pauses to take in the weight of her next words. "We could be exiled."

Shenzara walks over to Varah and places her hand on her shoulder. "I'm with you, Mom." Varah's heart melts, touched by the depth of her daughter's love.

"Thank you Zara, that means everything to me."

Broc nudges Shenzara from behind. "That was so corny."

"Did you notice her with him?" Varah reluctantly asks about Roman.

"Who?" Broc glances around the room, clueless.

Shenzara rolls her eyes. "Olivia, who else? No, he was alone." Varah's eyes wander out into the empty darkness, searching for the right words but are unable to find them. "Mom, what is it?" Shenzara asks.

"Nothing."

Broc isn't buying it; he grabs his mother's hand. "Mom, I know that look. What's the matter?"

"He's right, Mom. You said to always be honest with each other."

Varah sighs; then inhales. "I guess I've taught my twins well. It's Olivia. She has it out for me, and I think she could alter the outcome. I'm worried." She sits on the floor and motions to the children to sit close to her.

Shenzara asks, a note of genuine curiosity in her tone, "Why do you hate her so much?"

"Believe it or not, we were great friends once."

Broc leans in, his palm resting under his chin. "You and Olivia were friends? Wow, you learn something new every day." Varah's eyes light up as she drifts into a deep and almost-forgotten memory.

_Young Varah and Olivia wander down a busy Volonian street, chattering like the two schoolgirls they are. They 're dressed in matching white robes, and their hair is styled the same way. They stand in front of a sign that reads _Vameek's Attire _. A beautiful woman with olive skin and long, flowing red hair greets them at the door. She 's cheerful and talkative. "Are you ladies ready for the Shifting of Classes Ceremony?" _

_Varah screams, "Yes, we are! Class Four here we come!" _

_" Wonderful! I have some great gowns for you both to try on." Olivia dashes over to a tall rack that holds several hand-sewn gowns. She grabs a pink sequined one and presses it up to her body. She imagines herself already in it, twirling as though harmony shifting at The Shifting Ceremony. _

_" How much for this one?" _

_The woman 's face lights up. "Fifty Volos." Varah lets out a little scream, "Ooh, Olivia! That dress is divinely all you!" _

_" Do you think it will fit me?" _

_" Of course; we'll make it fit." Varah smiles and says, "VY VCO APPEAR VY." Suddenly, the gown is on Olivia's body, perfectly hugging her young curves. "It's beautiful!" Varah grabs a blue dress from the rack for herself. "VY VCO APPEAR VY," and it magically appears on her body. "Do you like this one?"_

_Olivia turns from the mirror to see. "Yes, that's the one. You're gorgeous!" _

_Interrupting the girls ' squeals of delight is the bell on the shop door, announcing someone's entrance. A man walks in. He is tall, dark and handsome. His smile is warm and friendly. Varah recognizes him immediately and waves him over. "Olivia, there's someone I want you to meet." She takes her friend by the hand and drags her over to meet the gentleman. Varah jumps into his arms, even before the introduction. "VU VOSAY, honey. Olivia, this is Roman." Olivia and Roman's eyes lock, sharing an awkward moment. Politely, they shake hands. Varah notices the slight tension in the room. "Do you two know each other?" _

_Roman answers quickly, "No, we've actually never met before." But Olivia can't seem to take her eyes off of Roman, undressing him from head to toe. She is absolutely infatuated. Varah taps her on the shoulder. "Did you hear me?" _

_Olivia pulls her eyes from the man of her dreams and shifts her gaze over to Varah. "I'm sorry, what did you say?" _

_" I said we're engaged."_

_Olivia is caught off guard by this news, and her demeanor quickly shifts. Oh, that 's great, just great!" And after a long pause, "I wish you both my best congratulations." Olivia wanders away and absent-mindedly runs her fingers through a jewelry display. _

_Roman takes Varah by the hand and playfully drags her away. "We're going to be late for dinner with my parents." _

_" Olivia, I'll talk with you later, OK?" Varah shouts back over her shoulder. We'll do a Vop cast." _

_" Sure." Olivia stands motionless in the center of the store watching Varah and Roman exit, her heart surprisingly heavy. Tears fall from her cheek to her shimmering pink gown. She rips the gown from her body, trembling with anger, and throws it to the floor._

Shenzara places her hands on Varah's leg. _ "_So, you two were friends? _" _

_"_ Yes, at least up to our Class Five shifting. Then things changed."

Broc taps Varah on the shoulder. "Changed, what does that even mean?"

"It means we decided that it was in our best interest not to continue our friendship."

"What did she do, put a spell on you?" Broc chuckles.

Shenzara curiously tilts her head, puzzled. "Yeah, what actually broke you guys up? A dress, a boy, a spell? What? I'm dying to know?"

Varah's eyes wander into the distance, and her tone softens. "I hadn't seen Olivia for several cycles. Then, when Roman and I conceived you both, she sent gifts and well-wishes..."

__

_Varah lays asleep on a large byan in a brightly lit room that is overflowing with flowers from well- wishers. Her energy is drained, but her eyes suddenly fly open. Roman lies asleep in a chair close to the byan, baby books stacked on a table near his elbow. Varah reaches for one of the books. The title reads BABY SPELLS FOR TODDLERS. Varah opens the book, delighted by the small words in the large print. She smiles. Her eyes then turn to a gold box that sits on a table farther away. She lifts her hand and the gift floats to her. She opens and reads the card, whispering, "To Varah and your new family, continued best wishes for you, Roman and the twins. My father and I send our love to you, from Olivia." A tear slides down Varah's face. She is thankful for the sentiment. She slowly opens the box. Inside it are two gold, baby bracelets. One reads _Shenzara C _. and the other_ Broc C _. Varah can hardly believe that Olivia would even send a gift. She glances over at Roman. He 's fast asleep. _

_A few minutes later their primary caretaker wheels in a double-sized basinet with the twins nestled inside. She ushers the new babies over to Varah. "There are my darlings," Varah whispers softly as she reaches out to receive one of the babies from the caretaker. _

_Roman suddenly wakes up, his face creased from not enough sleep, and not in a byan. He stretches and yawns, "Morning." _

_Varah smiles with a love she has never felt before. "Good morning, honey. How did you sleep?" _

_Roman takes Varah 's hand in his and caresses it softly. His lips brush against her hand. "I didn't. I thought about you all night." He kisses Varah on the forehead. _

_Varah leans back on the pillow; she 's elated. Her life is complete now. She has the man of her dreams at her side and now two adorable twins. "Look, a gift from Olivia. Bracelets for the babies." Roman stands; he seems momentarily distracted. He glances at the bracelets and then turns to lift Broc from the basinet. Varah presses a squirming Shenzara against her chest and rocks her to sleep. "I think the bracelets are beautiful, although it's a bit awkward, since we haven't spoken in cycles." Varah places one of the golden rings around Shenzara's tiny wrist. She hands the other bracelet to Roman. "Go on," she says to him, holding the bracelet out to him. But he resists, not reaching for the small gift, so Varah places it on Broc's wrist herself. Roman nervously looks on. "Fits perfectly." Varah gazes into Roman's eyes, enamored of her whole life at this moment. "Tell me why you love me." _

_Roman seems to be in another place, and doesn 't answer immediately. He seems to gaze right through Varah. "Where did that question come from, Olivia?" _

_Varah sits up, and then turns to face Roman directly. "You just called me Olivia."_

_" No I didn't. I said 'Varah'. You're just tired." _

_" You're probably right. This was a wonderful but overwhelming experience. I'm exhausted." Varah lifts her head, expecting a kiss. Roman kneels; he kisses her, but something's wrong. It's different this time. No passion, no lust, no love; just a peck. Varah's mind goes from zero to sixty in that one moment. She soon realizes that this single kiss will change her life forever._

__

"I knew at that very moment that our unbreakable commitment was broken." Varah stands. She stares into the dark, bottomless crater. "He had never kissed me like that before. They say it's a witch's intuition, but I say it was in the kiss." Shenzara stands to rub her mother's back. "It turns out Olivia wanted him to tell me that day. I only then realized how vindictive she really was."

Shenzara glances down at her bracelet, her finger tracing over the engraving. "Well, at least she has taste."

"It's a Zuruvian bracelet; it grows as you do," Replies Varah. "They're very hard to come by." She then turns away.

"Don't beat yourself up about it, Mom," adds Broc. "We all fall in and out of love."

Varah turns quickly to Broc. "And what do _you_ know about love?"

Broc smiles in an attempt to hide his emotions. "I know that love starts inside, and that expecting it from others always seems to let you down."

Varah knows where his thoughts are going, and she quickly changes the subject. "But that was then and this is now; my life as we know it: Varah Cutter, exiled Volonian."

Shenzara grabs Varah by the arm, her indomitable spirit taking the reins. "Mom, we still have a shot at this. Father wouldn't do this to us."

"He disappointed me once before, Shenzara." Broc sits silently a few feet away, his eyes glued to the ground. He circles his bracelet around his wrist.

"Why is he like that?" Varah knew this moment would come. She pulls herself together before walking over to her son. "I mean, are we not good enough for Lord Roman?"

Varah kneels close to Broc, her motherly instincts taking over. "Being a Lord is difficult, Broc. It is unlike any other duty in Volonia." She pushes her gold streak from her face.

Broc's not buying it. He turns away. "You're making excuses for him."

"I may not have picked the best words to explain it, but you must try to put yourself in his shoes."

"Are you kidding me, Mom? He hates us."

Varah can't stand seeing Broc like this, so she tries to keep it together. "Not true. He cares for you a great deal." But defending Roman bothers Varah, and Broc knows it.

"Then why doesn't he show it?" He wanders to the opposite side of the glowing floor and turns away. Staring into the bottomless crater somehow calms him.

Shenzara nudges Varah and points at Broc. She whispers to her mother. "A spell can't get you out of this one, Mom."

Varah quietly steps over to Broc. His face is downcast, and his smile is gone. "I've never told you or Zara about your keypa, Lord Dex, but I think now is a good time. A keypa is a volonian term used to describe a father of a parent. Varah slowly inhales, closes her eyes, and draws into her deepest memories. Her story-telling tone is soft and soothing. She motions for Shenzara to join them; then, she circles around them, allowing her children to settle in for the tale. Varah finally sits down in front of the twins; it's quiet and dark, their neck devices reflecting soft shimmers of light onto their faces. They listen intently as her tone creeps higher. Your keypa was a Lord.

_A ten-cycle-old Varah walks hand-in-hand with her father, Lord Dex. He 's a tall man, with skin as dark as the night and shoulders just as broad as his muscular frame promises. He glides down the center island of the Isle of waterfalls. Mist from the waterfalls gives a cool, gentle spray to the families who are gathered there. Dozens of Volonians happily stroll up and down the island and play in the falls. Lord Dex kneels down to face Varah. His smile melts her heart; she adores him so. "Honey, you're going to stay with Elylia Kali for a few hours. I have to administer the Validation Ceremony." _

_Varah 's eyes droop and her face forms a childish pout. "But I want to go with you, Father." A beautiful young witch glides over, her skin a silky caramel color, and her robe is silver with gold lining. Her hair is pulled back in a casual but elegant ponytail. She is simply stunning. "Honey this is Elylia Kali. She's going to be watching you along with some other children." _

_The woman kneels. "What's your name, Sweetie?" _

_Varah steps closer to the woman. "I'm Varah." _

_The woman holds out her hand "You're adorable. Would it be OK if I watch over you while your father goes to his ceremony?" Varah nods and smiles, taking Elylia's outstretched hand. Lord Dex smiles too and watches Varah go off with the young woman. Elylia waves over another little girl. "Raven, come join us." _

_A young girl with pigtails runs over to Varah. "Hello, I'm Raven. The little girl grabs Varah's hand and drags her away to play. Lord Dex looks on as a worried father leaving his daughter for the first time naturally would. _

_Elylia places both her hands reassuringly on his arm. "She's in good hands, now go. You have work to do." _

_Suddenly, the serenity of the place is disrupted by a blast in the distance. A portal opens on the other end of the Island. Several warlocks draped in brown robes and wearing masks exit the portal. Volonians run in all directions as chaos ensues. The warlocks blast powerful beams of energy into the crowd, injuring several Volonians. The Lords help guide as many people to shelter as they possibly can. _

_The leader of the attack is Mickal Calee, a tall man whose face is hidden behind a red mask. He commands his forces to attack without mercy. As the panic intensifies, Lord Dex searches for Varah. He dashes among the stunned and injured Volonians scattered throughout the Isle. "Varah! Varah!" _

_The two girls, frightened beyond belief, hide under a dessert table, their faces frozen in shock. They clutch each other 's hands, Raven letting go only to wipe away Varah's tears. "We will be okay here." _

_Believing his daughter has been taken out of harm 's way, Lord Dex turns his attention to the rebellious brood. He lifts his hands. "VCO VY VENTI." Powerful beams shoot from his hands, forcing the warlocks back into the still-open portal. The Isle of Waterfall guards scurry around the grounds, aiming their staffs, forcing the warlocks to retreat. Soon, when the chaos subsides, Lord Dex is seen standing over the fallen leader, Mickal, whose mask has been ripped off, revealing his beaten face. "It's over, Mickal. How did you get onto the Isle?" Mickal just smiles a depraved smile. Lord Dex grabs Mickal by his robe, lifting him off the ground with his bare hands, "Who let you into the portal?" _

_Mickal laughs, revealing a bloody grin, then spits some of the blood in Lord Dex 's face. In a crazy, sinister voice, he whispers, "I made it to the Isle alone, with no Lord's help. The power of Volonia will be mine, and there is nothing you can do about it." _

_Lord Dex tosses him a few feet away, his temper raging. "Over my dead body." _

_Mickal lifts his head, laughing into Lord Dex 's eyes. "Okay then, have it your way." With barely a turn of his head, Mickal signals to his men, "Now!" From behind them, a warlock thrusts a staff straight into Lord Dex's back, right through to his heart. _

_Lord Dex seems frozen in time and space. His magic flows slowly out from his body. All activity, even the sound of the falls, ceases on the Island. Silence falls over the place. Lord Dex collapses to the ground, panting to hold on to these last few moments of life. He crawls toward the guards, his fingers digging into the dirt, his power draining. He eyes Varah in the distance. She runs to him, tears flowing freely from her eyes. She wraps her arms around his broad shoulders, shrieking, "Father! Father!" _

_Mickal rises to his feet, stumbling as he approaches the mortally wounded Lord Dex. "This is only the beginning. This must be done." The young warlock stands in silence, his face void of emotion. _

_Lord Dex feels himself slipping away. Varah pleads, her eyes filled with tears, "Father? Please, Father! No!" _

_Mickal whispers in the ear of a brown-hooded young warlock, saying, "Finish him." _

_The young warlock is hesitant, but his glare is steady. "VY VOO VA VAIAN." Suddenly, power bolts from the young man's staff and explodes into the heaving chest of Lord Dex. The pure force of the energy sends Varah flying a few feet away. But quickly recovering herself and lunging back toward her now-still father, she sees a golden mist seeping from Lord Dex's body. His golden streak slowly fades; he's gone. Varah sits, silently crying, her body draped over his. _

_The young warlock kneels down and stares her in the face. Her hatred meets his eyes, and she screams at the top of her lungs, "Get away from me!" _

_The man snatches a medallion from Varah 's neck--a gift given to her by her father. The warlock retreats into the portal as Mickal nods approvingly and follows behind._

Varah wipes her eyes. Her hands lay cupped together on her chest, imagining she is holding the stolen medallion.

"I'm sorry," says a shaken Varah.

Shenzara, always the dispassionate one, folds her arms and quizzically tilts her head again. "Why are you telling us this now?"

Broc stands and walks over to Varah. "You said he died when you were a child; you never said anything about him being killed."

"I thought I'd left that memory in my Omn."

Shenzara notices Varah's raw emotion and tries to comfort her. "Wow, I didn't know."

"Yes. That's why it's important to give Roman a break. He's the only father you have." Varah wipes some tears from her eyes and straightens her robe. "There is one other thing you should know."

Broc slowly turns to Varah. "There's more?"

Varah caresses Shenzara's gold streak. "These streaks... They're special."

Shenzara glances nervously at Broc, then back to Varah. "What do you mean, 'special'?"

"I know I shouldn't be telling you this, but..." Varah paces, she changes her mind. "Maybe now isn't the right time..."

A raspy voice echoes from the distance, startling them in their moment of family intimacy. "Tell them the truth. They have a right to know the truth." Varah shoves Shenzara and Broc behind her, protecting them.

"Who's there?" she urges. And again, "Who's there!"

A hand appears out of the darkness to grasp one of the golden bars. An elderly woman's head appears next to her hand, barely lit by the dim light of the Vicklors. Her face is swollen, and her deep-set eyes look tiny, lost in the folds of her skin and the long, unkempt hair that falls in strands. She forces her face forward between the bars. "Little ones, you may want to sit back down for this."

Varah raises her arms to protect her twins, but the elderly lady continues, her tone convincing and assertive. After remaining silent for such a long, unknown length of time, she has something to say. Something that could change the twins' lives forever.

**Chapter 11**

_The Streak_

The old lady sits on the floor of her cell and motions for Varah, Broc and Shenzara to sit in front of the gold bars that cage her in. She senses Varah's protective vibration and says, "No need to shield them from me. I'm just an old lady with a lot of wisdom to share before I pass over to the other side." She smiles, revealing a mouthful of broken, yellow teeth, "Besides, I'm locked up just like you." She points to her neck device. Varah realizes there is no risk of harm.

"Go ahead," Varah says.

"Those Golden streaks you have in your hair, children," the ancient woman begins, "are not just a symbol to show that you're Volonian. They are the source of your power."

"I thought the Orb of Vamo gave us our power," interjects Shenzara.

"The power is rooted in your golden streak," the woman repeats.

Broc turns to his mom. "Is this true?"

"Yes, she's telling the truth."

The old lady continues. "Every cycle, a magical portal is sent to the household of selected Volonians to bring chosen witches and warlocks together for the _Validation Ceremony._ It is held on the Isle of Waterfalls."

__

_Vamo is shining warmly down on the Isle of Waterfalls. Beautiful vantars, Volonia 's most beautiful flying species, soar through the perfectly blue sky, and the sound of rushing water can be heard throughout the Isle. The thundering waters of the Vulay, which is the primary waterfall that flows into the Vovain, are sacred and can only be found using the power of the Guardians. The Vovain sits underneath the Vulay, and its sole purpose is to host the Validation Ceremony. _

_Thousands of Volonians flock to the Validation Ceremony each cycle in anticipation of receiving their golden streak. On this particular ceremony day, Lord Dex has been chosen to officiate the ceremony. Scepter in hand, he turns his attention toward the cloudless sky and levitates high above the Vovain. He points his staff toward the sky, which opens to release a massive flow of golden energy, which then is transferred directly into his scepter. The light is so extremely powerful that the other four Lords must help him to maintain a hold on the scepter and to contain its light. Immediately, the golden energy seeps out from the scepter and floods into the Vovain. The transfer begins as a small stream of liquid gold, growing wider moment-by-moment, until the whole of the waters of the Vovain are pure, liquid gold and vibrating with immense power. As the scepter releases its magical energy, it grows lighter and more manageable, and one by one, the other four Lords step back from Lord Dex and return to their places levitating above the Vovain. When the transfer is complete, a force field rises to surround the Vovain, prohibiting anyone from interfering with the magical ceremony. _

_Lord Dex descends from his place on high near the top of the Vulay and signals to the other Lords to join him in the next phase of the ceremony. They join hands and elevate together to circle above the Golden Vovain. Lord Dex chants in his most powerful and ceremonial voice, "_VAMBULA AMIRE VONACCIO VOUD _. " Immediately, the glorious and enormous Vondercrat comes bursting from out of the golden Vovain, at first floating ten feet above the Lords_. It bellows, " _LORDS, WHAT IS YOUR REQUEST_?"

Lord Dex responds in a thundering voice, "Validation."

The twins turn simultaneously to stare at their mother, their mouths dropped open. Varah presses her finger against her lips, signaling them to keep quiet. She motions for the old woman to continue.

_Every Volonian is speechless as the VONDERCRAT, the most powerful book in all of Volonia is present before them. Its purpose here today is to unite with the power of the magical, golden waters of the Vovain and to validate each Volonian with a magical golden streak. As the celebrated book floats above the waters, Lord Dex waves his hand and the force field opens, confirming that it recognizes his Lordship. Once he is recognized, he steps into the Vovain and the force field immediately closes. He alone is allowed such close proximity to the Vondercrat. _

_The book opens and, with a voice to shake the entire Isle, it roars the name: "ZANIA VEY." A father holding his daughter's hand makes his way through the teeming crowd of Volonians toward the Vovain. The streaks in the crowds' hair brighten as the power of the Vovain electrifies the air. The father and his daughter approach the water, but the Vondercrat bellows, "YOU MAY COME NO FURTHER." The father obeys, but surprisingly, the little girl magically lifts and floats toward Lord Dex, who is standing at the banks of the golden water. All of a sudden, the water rises and morphs into a massive handmade of the liquid gold. The hand carefully receives and cradles the child in mid-air. The hand pauses and the Vondercrat proclaims, "ON THIS DAY, THE GUARDIANS HAVE VALIDATED YOU, ZANIA VEY. YOUR GOLDEN STREAK REPRESENTS YOUR INITIATION INTO THE MAGICAL VOLONIAN SOCIETY." The immense hand then curls its fingers, one-by-one, carefully around the child, enclosing her safely in its grasp. It plunges her into the Golden Vovain. Several spectators gasp, unsure of what is happening. Others, being veterans of the Validation Ceremony, smile knowingly and nod reassuringly to those who sit in stunned silence. Moments later, the hand returns from the magical golden waters with the child, who is laughing and sitting up in its palm, her golden streak visibly glowing atop her black, curly hair. The force field opens. The hand floats toward her father and gingerly offers her back into his arms. Suddenly their robes turn from white to gold--a gift from the Guardians to always remind the family of the magical day their child became a Volonian. Fellow witches and warlocks greet them with cheers and congratulations. The Vondercrat continues calling names until the ceremony is complete. _

Shenzara turns to her mom, "Why is this kept a secret from us?"

"It's too complex of a process to explain to a young witch or warlock. It's sacred; it's not something you discuss with children. Your streak is unique to you. Broc's streak is on the right side of his head while yours is on the left. If you notice, sometimes my streak switches sides."

"Especially when she's angry," says Broc. Varah gives him a half-playful slap on the head. "Ouch."

"That's why it's highly recommended by the Lords that parents wait to discuss the streak at your third or fourth shifting."

Broc steps in closer. "What happens once the process is complete? Where does the Vondercrat come from?"

The old woman laughs. "This one is full of questions, just like his father at his age."

"Do you know my father?"

Varah interrupts to command an answer. "Who are you?"

"I'm just a wise woman trying to impart wisdom before I pass over to the other side." Varah is not satisfied with this repeated reply. "I think we have had enough stories for today."

"Mom, it's okay. She's just stating facts," interjects Shenzara.

"We're not going anywhere with these on our neck," Broc points to his neck device.

Varah is hesitant but allows the questioning to continue. Broc and Shenzara cautiously creep closer toward the old lady, curious about what she will reveal next.

"What happens when the ceremony is over?" inquires Shenzara.

The old lady steps forward from of the darkness into the soft glow of the children's Vicklors. Her cane holds her steady as she inches closer towards the twins. "After the last Volonian has received his or her streak, the Vondercrat closes and plunges into the golden Vovain, not to be seen again until summoned by the Lords."

"Where does it go?" asks Broc.

"No one knows. Many believe it is destroyed after each time it's summoned, and then a new one is created.

"This makes me wonder what else is being kept from us," Shenzara, always quizzical, ponders aloud.

"And this one..." she walks a little closer toward Shenzara, "is just like her mother."

Varah turns away, choosing not to acknowledge this.

"Finish the story!" says Broc.

__

_Lord Dex places his scepter back into the expansive Vovain, draining it of its golden, magical properties. The water turns from liquid gold to its original, electric blue. Once the golden energy has been completely drained, Lord Dex points his scepter to the sky, and the golden energy explodes from the scepter at lightning speed, returning to the Guardians. The force field removes itself from around the Vovain and the portals begin to open at random places, ready to transport the Volonians back to their homes. _

__

"That must be incredible to see," says Broc, jumping up and down with excitement.

"It's not possible!" shouts the old woman. Her tone is suddenly eerie and commanding.

"Why not?" asks Broc.

"The Validation is sacred. It's only for the parents and the chosen Volonians who are receiving their streak!" Sensing their fear, the old woman lowers her volume. Still unnerved, Broc backs away.

Shenzara, however, true to form, steps closer, a sly grin on her face. "There is always a way to get what you want, though, Broc." she says.

"Zara!" cautions Varah. The girl ignores her mother's warning and takes a few steps closer to the old woman, who meets her approach by forcing her head through the bars.

"What do you mean?" replies the old woman.

"The Omn. It holds memories of the things most precious to us." Explains Shenzara.

The old woman cackles, her voice echoing through the dungeon. "That's one memory the Omn can't hold, but that does reveal something about you." The old woman grins, revealing her chipped, yellow teeth. "Now, you remind me of myself."

Shenzara looks at the woman from head to toe. "I am nothing like you."

"Don't let appearances deceive you, young lady." The old woman suddenly transforms into a beautiful, slender woman, with long, jet-black hair. Her eyes are an exotic blue. Then, just as suddenly, she transforms into a short, plump man with broken glasses hanging on the end of his nose. Then, again, just as suddenly, she returns to her original form.

Shenzara stumbles backwards, frightened and confused. "How is she using magic down here? Her collar is still attached."

"I don't know," whispers Varah, breathless with fear.

As the old woman disappears again into the darkness, she leaves them with a few parting words. "Don't ever underestimate your power."

Breaking the fearful suspense of the moment, a familiar voice yells down from above. "Varah! Are you down there? It's Viscera!"

"Viscera?"

"Yes! It's me."

"Viscera! Yes! Oh yes! We're down here."

Magically, Viscera appears before them.

"Viscera!" shout the twins in unison. "We haven't seen you in so long! We're so happy to see you! Can you get us out of here?"

Viscera shakes his head sadly. "My powers are void here."

"But how did you find us?"

"Lordess Raven sent me."

"Oh, Raven...! She is such a good friend," Varah sighs in relief.

Still, Broc and Shenzara glare at Viscera with a doubly challenging look.

"How do we know it's you?" demands Broc.

Viscera is confused at the question. "It's me, you guys. Who else would I be?"

"They've been through a lot today. The old woman in the cell across the way has gotten them shaken up."

"What cell?"

Broc blinks comically, staring at the black wall. "It was just there."

"There is no cell behind me." Viscera walks into the darkness where Broc is staring. There is nothing to see.

"Well she _was_ just there and she was telling us the story of our streaks!" interrupts Shenzara.

"I don't know how long you guys have been down here, but the isolation has obviously taken its toll on you."

Shenzara approaches him, hands on hips. "Prove it. Prove you're Viscera."

Seeing the confused rage in her eyes, Viscera decides it's best to oblige. "Okay Zara, calm down. I'll prove it to you." Broc walks over to stand next to his sister, his arms also folded across his chest. Viscera kneels down and whispers into Shenzara's ear. "At your second shifting party, I gave you a necklace that matches your beautiful Zuruvian bracelet." Shenzara reaches up to her necklace and grips it tightly. "And then I whispered in your ear."

Shenzara and Viscera both recite in unison, "This necklace reflects the beauty within."

Shenzara throws her arms around him. "It _is_ you! It _is_ you!" She playfully gives Viscera a shove, Broc shoves Viscera from the other side. They engage in a moment of playful shoving until Viscera puts a stop to it by holding up his hands, surrendering. He smiles and tucks his slightly disheveled hair behind his ears.

Then, Shenzara walks over, curiously circling Viscera, her eyes glued to his head.

"Shenzara what are you doing?"

"That's weird..."

"What?" Viscera asks.

"Where's your streak?" Shenzara aims the question straight to Viscera's face.

Broc stares at Viscera. "Oh, wow, yeah! Where is it?"

Viscera is at a loss for words. He shifts his attention to Varah. She puts her hands on the twins' shoulders and locks eyes with Viscera. "You knew they were going to ask sooner or later." Viscera lowers his head, unwilling to relive the painful memory of why he is void of the golden Volonian Streak.

**Chapter 12**

_Guides_

The family gathers around Viscera as he begins his story. They are seated on the glowing floor with their legs comfortably crossed, having become resigned to the fact that they are here for a while. Viscera motions for Broc and Shenzara to come closer. He looks intently into their young eyes, his face reflecting some yet-unknown despair, "Once you hear this story, you are never to repeat it." Broc and Shenzara nod in agreement.

"Long before you were born, I was summoned to the Isle of Waterfalls for the Validation Ceremony. My mother, Andalya Arts, was a Class Seven witch. She was a tall, slender woman with long, golden hair, and with a streak that was a shade lighter than her natural color. She was one of the most powerful of all the Class Sevens. My father, Lord Baideus Arts, was a Class Eight and a newly appointed Lord. He was a tall man with short, black hair. His shoulders were broad, so he towered over the other Lords. His look was serious, but his heart was kind. I was an anxious boy, happy and filled with anticipation. I remember my mom dressing me in my white robe."

_" Mom, why are we waiting so long?" Viscera takes a seat on his byan and rummages through a drawer in a byan side table. _

_" We're waiting for a special portal to take us to the Isle of Waterfalls," his mother says as she buttons his robe. "This is a special day for you. The day you receive your streak and become a proper Volonian." She tucks a stray lock of hair behind his ear. _

_At that moment, Lord Baideus walks into the room, "We must be at the ceremony early; I have Lordship duties." As if on cue, a small, blue circle of light appears, expanding in a circular motion, becoming larger with each rotation. "Good. It's the Validation portal. Perfect timing." Lord Baideus walks over and takes Viscera and Andalya's hands. Eager to get to the adventure, Viscera attempts to walk in, but he is lightly tugged back by his father. "In time, my son." _

_Moments later the portal speaks. "Viscera, Andalya and Lord Baideus Arts may enter." Viscera looks at his father, awaiting approval. Lord Baideus nods and steps forward, leading his family through the portal. Instantaneously, they are transported to the most beautiful place Viscera could ever have dreamed of: The Isle of Waterfalls._

Shenzara raises her hand, "Viscera, I don't remember any of our Validation Ceremony. How do you remember so much?"

Viscera turns away to hide the tears welling up in his eyes. "I've tried to forget mine, but I just can't." He turns back to the children, deciding to let them see the raw emotion his story brings to him. "You see, cycles ago, the Validation Ceremony took place at ten-cycles old, but ever since the tragedy, the Guardians have wanted to protect the memories of all Volonians. It was mandated that every Volonian shall receive their streak at one-cycle old and not ten as was previously rendered."

Broc straightens up. "What tragedy?" Viscera turns to Varah for a sign of permission. She shrugs her shoulders.

" _Now_ what are you guys hiding?" Shenzara interrupts.

Varah replies. "Continue Viscera. They need to know."

_Lord Baideus stands in front of the Vovain. He kisses Andalya on the cheek and takes Viscera by the hand. "This is the most important day of your life, my son. I'm proud of you." Magically, Lord Baideus rises from the ground. _

_" He's levitating, Mom! He's levitating!" _

_Andalya squeezes his hand and tells him, "Your father has a very important role in the ceremony today, Viscera." She guides Viscera to where all the other Volonians are gathering. _

_While Viscera stands in line, a young girl taps him on the shoulder and whispers to him, "I will be Lordess one day. My name is Varah." She curtsies in her beautiful, new, white robe. _

_" Not until after I first become Lord! My name is Viscera. He playfully bows, and from that day, a bond was forged. _

_Vamo is shining brilliantly this day. A few, puffy clouds float in the distance, serving to give perspective to the grand expanse of sky. A man levitates above the electric blue waters of the Vovain. "The Validation is at Hand!" his voice announces boldly, drawing the crowd into mesmerized attention. "That's my father, Lord Dex. He's officiating the ceremony." _

_" My father is Lord Baideus. He is assisting with the ceremony as well." _

_Varah chuckles, "I know, silly. My father talks about him a lot!" Viscera smiles, unsure of the meaning behind her statement. "Don't worry. My father doesn't talk much, but when he does, he only has good things to say." _

_Viscera 's smile widens. "I think we should catch up with the others." Viscera follows Varah. A few moments later, Lord Dex motions to the other four Lords to come join him as he floats above the Vovain. They join hands in a circle as they chant the spell to conjure the Vondercrat. _

_Varah closes her eyes; she 's in a trance. She pronounces the words of the spell along with the Lords. _

_" What are you doing?" Viscera asks, nudging Varah, forcing her to break her concentration. _

_Annoyed, she responds, "What?" _

_" Repeating that spell is forbidden." _

_" I'm just practicing." _

_Viscera turns away, but she draws his attention back as she points and shouts, "Look!" A large, golden book splashes up mightily from the golden Vovain. The light it emits is electrifying. Moments later, a shield covers the area surrounding the waterfall, forbidding anyone from entering into the water, which is now covered by a golden mist. Viscera turns to Varah with his mouth agape. She nonchalantly gazes at the wonder taking place before them and says, "I told you," without ever taking her eyes from the book. _

_The massive book has the title VONDERCRAT written across the cover. "LORDS, what is your request?" The sound is magnificent, as if created from the collective voices of a mass of Volonians. _

_" VALIDATION" replies Lord Dex. _

_A woman in the crowd whispers to her daughter, "It's rumored that the first and last "Volonians to receive their streak receive special favor from the Guardians." She crosses her fingers. _

_The Vondercrat pages lift and turn to find the list of Volonians who will be receiving their Validation today. The first name it announces is, "VARAH CONSTANCE CUTTER!" A silence falls on the Volonian people as their eyes search the Island. Varah looks at Viscera surprised that she is the first to be called. Viscera nudges her again, this time urging her to go. He is so excited for her that he shoves her forward. _

_" I will see you on the other side of the Vovain," she whispers. As Varah steps into the golden water, she begins to float effortlessly through the Vovain. _

_" Wow," Viscera whispers. "I can't wait 'til it's my turn." His mother smiles down at him, enjoying the sight of him enjoying the ceremony. Suddenly, a surge of water emerges from the Vovain and takes the shape of a fist. It rises until it is the same height as Varah. The hand opens toward Varah, and the brave young girl walks onto the palm, her fear evaporating with each step. Slowly, the hand closes. Varah waves at her father as the hand plunges into the Vovain. _

_Sitting just behind Viscera and his mother, a little boy tugs on his own mother 's robe, worried. "Where is it taking her?" _

_" Shhhh," his mother replies, "just watch." _

_After what seems like an eternity, the hand emerges from the water. Now there is something different about Varah; her beautiful black hair is emblazoned with a prominent, fiery, gold streak. Applause erupts from the audience as the massive hand delivers the jubilant Varah to her father. _

_The Vondercrat bellows what seems like hundreds of names, every Volonian following the same process to receive his or her streak. Varah impatiently waits through the ceremony expecting all the time that Viscera 's name will be called next. Then the Vondercrat does the inevitable. It bellows the name "VISCERA ARTS! Varah practically jumps to her feet as though she is the one whose name has been called. She pulls her new friend to his feet and shoves him gently toward the water. She is so excited to see Viscera get his streak that she can't possibly sit down. Instead, she bounces from foot to foot, bursting with excitement. _

_Viscera walks with his mother to the bank where the Vovain begins. As Lord Baideus approaches the force field, he waves his hand to create a small opening, allowing Viscera to proceed forward. But something goes wrong. The force field doesn 't close behind him._

Viscera drifts from the moment. He clenches his fist as he attempts to hold his emotions in check. He turns away, but Shenzara wanders over to him "Viscera, what happened?" Reluctantly he finishes his story.

_A strange, unexpected portal opens and a rebellious throng of warlocks floods onto the Isle. Fighting erupts among Lords and the warlocks. Total mayhem engulfs the sacred Isle._

_" Lord Dex! You must end the ceremony immediately! It's the only way to keep them from entering the Vovain!" shouts Lordess Diana. _

_Lord Baideus yells across the Vovain, "Lord Dex! What about my son? You can't stop the ceremony! My son hasn't received his streak!" _

_" This is not about your son, Baideus. We must protect the Volonian people," replies Lordess Diana. _

_Lord Dex rises above the Vovain and the surrounding chaos of fighting. _

_He chants, "VAYENTI VONDERE," prompting portals to appear in scattered locations around the Island. Frightened Volonians grab their children and rush back to the portals. _

_" What about my son!" demands Lord Baideus. _

_Lord Dex stands unmoving, gazing sadly at Lord Baideus. "I'm sorry. It has to be done." He turns and points his scepter into the golden Vovain, draining it of its shining color and its powers. _

_" No!" yells Lord Baideus. Viscera looks on from the riverbank, his eyes filled with tears. His mother holds him close to her side. The golden mist lifts slowly from the water until it has returned to its original blue color. Lord Baideus drops his head, ashamed that his son, one of the remaining Volonians, did not receive his magical, golden streak. He turns to walk off toward the hills. _

_" Father! Father! Where are you going?" Lord Baideus neither answers nor turns around. _

_" Baideus, come back to us!" yells Andalya. Viscera runs after him, but it is too late. Lord Baideus disappears, never to be seen again. _

__

There is a long silence; then, Viscera speaks, barely audible, "That is why I did not receive my streak."

"He just left?" Shenzara asks.

Viscera's eyes stay staring at the floor. "The Guardians issued me a limited amount of power as a consolation.

Varah puts her hand on Shenzara's shoulder. "I think Viscera has explained enough for today."

As the family and their Guide fall into a silent reflection, their neck devices begin to glow. "What's happening, Mom?" asks Broc.

Viscera stands, "I've stayed too long; I will see you all at the sentencing. He gives them a last, hopeful look and retreats into the darkness of the dungeon.

**Chapter 13**

_The Verdict_

Varah, Broc and Shenzara slowly float up the dark crater, unable to see anything except their glowing collars, which illuminate their faces from below. Everything else is enveloped up by the deep, vast darkness surrounding them. They hold onto their collars and try to keep the devices from cutting off their limited supply of air as they float upward, unsure of what awaits them. The farther up they travel, the more they seem to bump into each other. "Mom, I think the walls are getting smaller!" Broc yells, panic setting in.

"Are they trying to kill us in here?" adds Shenzara.

"They wouldn't do that," Varah says. There, look. I can see light up above." She breathes a sigh of relief.

Varah, Broc and Shenzara are lifted out of the crater and the ground closes beneath them. Their collars stop glowing and they land on the ground with a thump. Varah looks up. Before her stands a guard who is at least seven feet tall and as wide as all three of them combined. "My name is Cassius. Follow me."

Varah quickly realizes that there is not one guard, but eight, and all of them stand over seven feet tall. She pulls her children close.

Shenzara whispers to her mother, "Is this really necessary? Eight guards?" The huge men surround them as they walk through the dungeon. Shenzara nudges her mom and asks, "Where are they taking us?"

"I don't know where exactly, Zara. I'm just as clueless as you."

The Cutters struggle to keep up with the guards' huge strides, almost having to run to keep from being trampled. Cassius comes to what looks like a stone wall. He places his wrist against a metal box that isn't even there until his hand is within millimeters of touching it. All at once the stone wall begins to open with a sound so loud that even thinking is impossible. They step into what seems like an elevating device. The platform starts to rise, picking up speed as it ascends.

Broc turns to one of the guards behind him, "Are we underground?" The guard neither looks at him nor utters a word. Broc turns to his mom instead.

"Yes, we are underground."

The platform comes to an abrupt stop, sending Broc and Shenzara barreling into the guards. "Ouch, they feel like a brick wall!"

Cassius responds with a cold, hard voice, "They are made of solid stone. They don't speak; they only obey my commands."

"That explains why he didn't answer my question before," says Broc.

The two guards in front move to the side. Cassius turns to the other guards and commands: "Stay here." The door from the platform opens to Vamo shining so harshly that it temporarily blinds Varah and the children. Cassius steps in front of them, but the Cutters still need to put their hands in front of their eyes in a feeble attempt to shield them from Vamo's intense glare.

_" How long has it been?"_ they all think in silence. They follow Cassius off the platform and onto a dirt path. There are hundreds of Volonians crowded around, and they are all shouting. _" What are they yelling about? Who are they yelling at?_" the children wonder. " _Could it be us they 're yelling at?"_ The only thing separating the family from the mad crowd is a barbed-wired fence. The entirety of the space is tight and cramped. The Cutters struggle to move forward.

Varah reluctantly turns to her children and whispers to them, "They are here for the sentencing."

Broc drops his head as he comes to realize the magnitude of their crime. He thinks quietly out loud. "I mean, wow. I knew what we did was bad, but I had no idea that we would be sentenced in front of hundreds of...all these... people."

"Spectators, is more like it," Shenzara says to help him finish his thought. "Can't Father do something? I mean, he is the Head Lord," she adds.

"Your father is doing the best he can. I know often it doesn't seem like it, but he is." She grabs their hands slightly tighter and pulls them closer as they follow Cassius.

"How could you? How could you!" yells an angry middle-aged woman leaning dangerously close to the barbed-wired fence.

Varah quickens her pace. "Come on kids, the natives are getting restless."

But the woman follows them along the fence, continuing her taunts. She is a frail woman with long, stringy brown hair, but she is quick to make her way through the crowd to keep up with Varah and the kids. To everyone's shock, she suddenly levitates over the fence and stands directly behind the Cutters. "How could you?!" she shrieks. "You are a disgrace to the Volonian people! Those kids were better off with their father!"

"Leave my mom alone!" Broc shouts back, Varah wraps her arm protectively around him, guiding and calming him in her efforts to propel him forward and away from the old crone. Against her better judgment, Varah turns back toward the woman to respond, but her face is met with a wad of saliva that lands somewhere between her left cheek and her hairline. Varah, acting purely out of instinct, grabs the woman by the neck, causing the raucous crowd to fall into shocked silence. Her eyes turn from hazel to a deep grey, and her hair rises from her head. Slowly she levitates, carrying the woman with her. The woman grasps at Varah's hand, trying to free herself from the choking grip, her feet kicking madly above the ground, and the life draining from her face.

"Mom! Stop! She's not worth it!" Shenzara yells.

"Mom!" yells Broc, pulling on Varah's robe, attempting to keep her from committing yet another crime. Cassius raises his hand toward Varah and her collar begins to glow, sending a strong electrical charge through her body. Both Varah and the woman fall to the ground. The crowd gasps and falls into silence, watching intently. Broc and Shenzara kneel next to their mother. Fearful for her own life, the old shrew scurries off into the throng of people.

Cassius commands: "Get up! Keep moving!"

Broc and Shenzara help their mother off the ground. Broc takes part of his robe and wipes the spit from her face. "Mom, if I had to choose all over again, I still would choose to stay with you."

"Me too," replies Shenzara. Varah smiles as she attempts to compose herself.

They fall into line behind Cassius and continue on the path. Soon they arrive at what looks like a dead end- nothing but a stone wall in front of them. The guard places his wrist against the wall and a dark, hidden opening appears. Cassius moves to the side, signaling that Varah, Broc, and Shenzara should enter. Reluctant to enter another bottomless crater, the Cutters hesitate, peering into the dark as far as they can before hesitantly stepping forward. The guard follows them into the room and puts his wrist against the wall again, this time on the inside of the doorway. The door closes, completely shutting them off from the outside world. Once the door is fully shut, a light begins to shine, glowing more and more until the entire space is illuminated. What they see takes their breath away. They are in a beautiful, spacious room decked out with the finest array of delicious food, comfortable furniture, soothing harmonies, and stunningly lifelike portraits of the five Lords displayed along the back wall.

Varah turns to Cassius and asks, "What's going on?" He only bows his head to her.

"Mom, look," says Shenzara. Varah and Broc simultaneously turn around. A purple vantar has flown in through the window and, as they all look on, magically transforms into Lordess Raven.

"Thank you," Lordess Raven says to Cassius, who bows to her on one knee before surreptitiously exiting the room through a concealed door. The kids run to Lordess Raven, relieved and excited to see a familiar face.

"Lordess Raven!" shout the children in unison.

"Ah, it's my favorite twins. How are you holding up?" She kneels down, her arms outstretched. They hug her as if they hadn't seen her in cycles. "Are you taking good care of your mom?" They nod their heads 'yes'. "Good. Then go on and help yourself to some delicious nourishment. There are vandicups and puffstries over there, ordered special for my special twins." Broc and Shenzara, their faces beaming, run to the buffet of delights. Varah stands in the distance; her arms folded and a smile spread across her face.

"I would not want you getting into trouble on my accord, Lordess Raven." Varah playfully bows.

"Stop calling me Lordess. It makes me feel old."

Varah hugs her dear friend. "How did you? Why did you?"

"Enchantment spell. It changes any room into what I desire. I might not like you calling me Lordess, but it doesn't mean I can't use my power and influence to help a friend in need. This is the least I can do. I won't have you, my friend, a Class Six, ex-veil to a Lord- as well as my favorite children- in less than quality accommodations."

"Thank you."

"There have been worse things done among the Lords," Lordess Raven adds. They both smile and almost giggle. Lordess Raven sits and holds out her hand. A kettle of tea and a cup float toward her. She pours a cup for Varah and one for herself. She pats the cushion next to her on the green velvet lounger. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine... under the circumstances. I'm happy to be with my kids, and that's the most important thing," replies Varah.

Cassius furtively returns to the room, halting their conversation. "Lordess Raven, it is time."

"That was a lot quicker than I anticipated. Varah, I must go. Whatever the outcome, all will be well!" She stands, hugs her friend, and blows kisses at the twins, who are deeply engaged with some chocolaty Vandicups. "Take good care of them, Cassius." She transforms again into a purple vantar and flies out the window.

"Broc and Shenzara, come." Broc grabs some food and shoves it into his robe as he makes his way toward his mother. Shenzara follows leisurely behind them, unenthusiastic about leaving the grand accommodations. Just as they near the stone entrance, the beautiful room around them fades and begins to morph slowly back into a dark hallway. This time they can see that it is lined with what seems like hundreds of cells. Fellow Volonians are caged within, awaiting their trials. Torches burn to give a meager light to the cobblestone hallway, which is uneven to walk on as they follow the enormous Cassius.

"What just happened to the room we were in?" asks Broc.

"Enchantment spell," answers Shenzara. Varah looks at her quizzically. "You guys just can't seem to whisper." Shenzara adds.

Varah pulls her robe tighter and throws her hood over her head, conscientious about avoiding an outburst among the watchers like the one that happened on the dirt path.

Varah looks up at the top of the cells and notices that they don't have bars. Electrical beams separate each cell from the other. "What happens if they touch those beams, Cassius?" Varah asks.

"The beams have an electrical charge 1000 times more powerful than your collar," he replies, matter-of-factly. Varah and her children move closer to the center of the path, not wanting to risk touching the electric beams. "2324, 2325, 2326, here we are," Cassius puts his wrist up near the beam to disable it. He leads the Cutters up a spiral staircase, the noise from above growing louder and louder as they ascend. Once they reach the top, they are again almost blinded by the stark light of day after being in the dark tunnel.

Blinking their eyes to adjust, they can see they are in an enormous open space, tall and rounded like a coliseum. When the shapes come into view, the family sees that straight across from them are the five Lords, all dressed in the golden robes they wear for ceremonial duties. They are seated in their designated thrones on a balcony that juts out into the coliseum. The only thing separating the Cutters from the expanse of the coliseum is the web of electric beams, which confine them to an area on the open, marble floor. "Stay here. Don't move until your names are called," Cassius commands.

"Mom what do you think is going to happen to us? Do you think we will be exiled? What did Lordess Raven say?" ask Broc and Shenzara in a barrage of confused questions.

Varah grabs her kids and pulls them close, "I don't know, you guys. I just don't know."

Varah, Broc and Shenzara stare through the electric beams as they await their names to be called, unsure of what fate lies ahead. A tall young male Volonian with sandy brown hair and wearing a white robe walks into the coliseum with a scroll in his hand. He is obviously one of the scribes of the House of Lords who write, deliver, and read official documents. Upon seeing him, the noise of the crowd begins to dissipate. The scribe continues walking until he reaches the center of the coliseum, where he turns and faces the Cutters.

He stands fixed until he has the attention of the crowd. Then, he levitates until he is at the height of the Lords' balcony. He opens his scroll and turns, his back toward the balcony. "Today is the day that the Lords you have so confidently elected will decide the fate of Varah Cutter, Shenzara Cutter and Broc Cutter. Their Charge: Conjuring the Vondercrat." __

There is an instant rumble among the Volonian people seated all around. "Exile them!" yells a large woman from the top row, waving her fist.

The scribe waits until the rumbling quiets.

"Quiet!" yells Lord Roman. The crowd reluctantly hushes.

Lord Vondell leans over from his chair and says, "A bit jumpy today, are we Roman?" Roman cuts a vicious look toward Lord Vondell.

"Not today, Vondell, not today," admonishes Lord Topher, placing his hand on Vondell's shoulder. Lord Vondell smiles and leans back into his seat.

"Continue," Lord Roman commands to the scribe.

The scribe, who is remarkably composed for the pressure of his job, reads loud and clear for all in the coliseum to hear, "I present to you, people of Volonia, your Lords. Lordess Raven, Lord Topher, Lordess Semelia, Lord Vondell, and Lord Roman. The Lords stand, walk to the edge of the balcony and wave to the multitudes. A great cheer rises up from the crowd--a teeming mass of unbridled anger and anxiety waiting to see what fate the Lords will hand to the Cutter family.

Lord Roman extends his hand toward the accused. "Varah, Broc and Shenzara Cutter, please come forth."

The electric beams that separate them suddenly vanish. The Cutters, holding hands, walk slowly toward the Lords' balcony. The crowd jumps into a frenzy. "Pop-in's! Make them Pop-in's!" yells one elderly man. "Exile them!" says another. "Save the children!" shouts a pair of mothers. More raucous members of the audience begin to throw books, bottles, and even rocks at the family.

Varah gasps and jumps in front of Broc and Shenzara, attempting to shield her children from the onslaught. "I won't let anything happen to you. Just stay close to me," she assures them. A young boy from the crowd takes a large rock and hurls it right at Broc's face. Varah leaps in front of Broc, holding up her arms to shield his face. Lordess Semelia, eyeing the flying object, shoots a beam from her hand and freezes it a split-second before it hits Varah's head.

Lordess Semelia rotates to point her hand directly at the offending boy. Lifting her hand, she causes the boy to rise from his seat, carrying him closer and closer to the balcony. The crowd stares in amazement, pausing to gape at the scene before breaking into a murmuring chatter about the forthcoming fate of the young boy. Lordess Semelia brings him to face her, only inches from the balcony, where the crystal case enclosure suddenly disappears to allow the Lordess to put her face threateningly close to his.

Lordess Semelia puts into her tone that particularly vicious and penetrating edge that is somehow both whispering and ear-splitting at the same time. "This is a sentencing. Violence of any kind will not be tolerated in this coliseum. Is that understood?"

The boy does not respond.

Lordess Semelia bursts into his face and shouts, "I said, is that understood!"

The boy lifts his head defiantly, his eyes locking with Lordess Semelia "Yeah, sure..."

A pair of guards from the coliseum floor usher the boy aggressively out of the place. For the first time this day there is silence among the crowd. "Let this be a warning to you all. You are entitled to your opinions, but you elected _us_ to govern. Let us do our job!" Lordess Semelia flings the train of her robe aside and takes her seat. Lordess Raven touches her arm and nods, confirming she agrees.

"I would have let it hit her," Lord Vondell whispers to Lord Topher. Overhearing this, Lord Roman balls his fist, a golden glow illuminating from it, and tries with all his might not to allow his anger to overtake him. "I mean, I am entitled to my opinion," Lord Vondell continues with a chuckle. He stands and walks to the edge of the podium. Looking down at the Cutters, he extends his hands with his palms facing upward and raises them above his head. With the motion of his hands, Varah and the children are lifted from the ground. Lord Vondell brings his hands back toward his body, and Varah and the children float through the air until they are about 5 feet from the Lords. "What do you have to say for yourself, Varah Cutter? What made you attempt to conjure the Vondercrat?"

Varah takes a moment to collect her thoughts. The coliseum is hushed in anticipation of her response. "I remember the spell from when I was a little girl. My father used to practice it before every Validation Ceremony, and I memorized it. I wanted to be a Lordess."

"Liar!" yells a voice from the crowd. Lord Topher holds up his hand, signaling the crowd to be quiet. Lord Vondell paces back and forth, his hand on his chin. Lord Roman eyes his every move.

"So you conjured the Vondercrat, the most powerful book in all of Volonia, and then you performed a spell from it. And not just any spell, but the duplication spell. I still haven't figured out how you did it." He looks her up and down. "There must be something you are not telling us."

"It's my fault!" shouts Broc. The crowd gasps collectively, astonished, and pushes up to the edge of their seats.

"Really, now?" says Lord Vondell

"Broc, hush!" whispers Varah.

"Let him speak," commands Lord Vondell, smiling almost sadistically.

"I wanted to go on vacation," Broc continues.

"We begged her," interrupts Shenzara.

"Isn't that sweet? The children are sticking up for their mum." A now fully sadistic smile spreads across Lord Vondell's face.

"Enough!" Lord Roman shouts. He stands, "Varah Cutter, did you conjure the Vondercrat?"

Varah looks at Lord Roman, and says "I did conjure the Vondercrat, but..."

"...and did you or did you not perform the duplication spell?" he continues, cutting her off mid-sentence.

"Yes, but I had no idea I could actually conjure it. I am a Class Six witch alone. I realize that it takes five Lords to conjure."

"Just answer the question!" An angered Lord Roman commands, veins bulging from his neck."

"Father, at least let her explain," pleads Broc.

"I am not your father. I am Lord Roman!" A small gasp escapes Varah's lips. _" Did he really just say that?" Varah thinks to herself. _

"Father, we're your children!" Shenzara adds to the appeal.

"I said, I am not your father! I am Lord Roman!"

"Lord Roman!" shouts Lordess Raven. Varah pulls her children closer to her and sees Shenzara's eyes fill with tears and Broc shaking with rage. "I think it's time for us to vote," Lordess Raven continues.

The five Lords rise from their seats one by one to leave the balcony. The all raise their hands and shout, "Departure." They exit the balcony. Varah looks up and sees Viscera holding the door open for them.

"I'm sorry," he mouths toward the family. She reads his lips and nods. He drops his head and follows respectfully behind the Lords, who proceed toward the deliberating chambers.

Once they are sequestered in the room and seated around the deliberation table, Lordess Raven speaks in a voice that is both scolding and astonished. "I cannot believe you, Lord Roman." She slams her hand on a table, the force of it cracking the surface. "Those are your kids out there, and you say you're not their father? They are just children!"

"I have a duty as Head Lord to uphold Volonian Law. I cannot show sympathy toward my children or my ex-veil. I must rule Volonia with the objectivity entrusted to me."

"I agree there is a fine line, and that this must be difficult for you, but how you are treating Varah and those kids is completely too harsh. It seems to me that you are more concerned about re-election than you are about your own children's safety and the security of their future. For goodness sake, even Lordess Semelia had to keep a rock from hitting Varah and your son!"

"Calm down, everyone. I understand this is an unusually difficult situation, but we still have a decision to make," remarks Lord Topher.

Lordess Semelia rises from her seat at the table, "We must present a decision of two choices. I care about Varah, but she conjured the Vondercrat and performed the duplication spell. Any other Volonian would be exiled."

"This is a little different. She didn't know she could actually conjure it," interjects Lordess Raven.

"But she did," points out Lord Topher.

Lord Vondell raises his hand to say, "May I make a suggestion?" The others turn to look tersely at him, expecting yet another disparaging remark. "As you know, Lord Roman and I do not usually see eye-to-eye, but in this case I can put my differences aside and be fair." Lord Vondell leaves his seat to pick up a glass of Vinyen from the table spread with refreshments. He walks around the chambers, swirling the glass while arranging his words. "I propose that the two choices should be Exile or Stealth."

"Exiled?" says Lordess Raven. Isn't that a bit extreme? No one was harmed."

"Well, Varah is very bright. If she becomes a Stealth, she and the children can work their way back up to their prospective classes in no time. We don't want to appear too lenient toward them, or the people will think we are showing favoritism."

"I disagree," but it seems as though I am outnumbered, says Lordess Raven.

"So then, are Stealth and Exile our choices?" asks Lord Roman. The other four Lords nod in agreement.

Lordess Raven, still unsatisfied with the decision, relents to the will of the other four. There is a knock at the door. It is Viscera. "Have the Lords come to a decision yet? The crowd is getting out of hand."

"Yes we have," replies Lord Roman.

The Lords return to the balcony, and take their seats. Applause erupts from the crowd. The young scribe in white once again levitates in front of the balcony. Varah, Shenzara and Broc stand in anxious anticipation, awaiting the decision of the Lords. They know that either way it will be bad. Varah, sharing the children's fear, whispers, "As long as we are together, we can survive."

"Lords!" the scribe calls out, loud and clear, "What is your decision?"

Lordess Raven stands and extends her hands, palms facing toward the ceiling and pronounces, "Stealth!" Varah lets out a sigh of relief, knowing in her heart that her best friend fought as hard as she could for her.

Lord Topher stands next and extends his palms, also facing toward the ceiling, and proclaims, "Stealth!" The audience holds their collective breath, knowing that only 3 votes will decide her fate.

Lordess Semelia stands and raises her hands, her palms facing down, and announces, "Exiled!" There are gasps from the crowd. Broc looks at his mother and sister with uncertainty. Varah holds them tighter, encouraging them to be brave.

Lord Vondell stands and extends his palms, also facing down and yells, "Exiled!" There are rumblings throughout the coliseum as people cast bets and make verbal wagers on the fate of the Cutters.

Lord Roman stands, still unsure of how he will vote. He gazes down on his children. Then he moves his eyes to his ex-veil. Taking a deep breath, he steadies himself to say the one word that he will need to live with for all of eternity. He extends his hands, pausing to remember what the Guardians said: _" We trust Lord Roman to make the right decision." _His children cling to their mother, a look of supplication on their small faces. The crowd's rumblings grow a bit louder as their angry movements reflect their restlessness. Lord Roman turns his gaze out to the people of Volonia and proclaims, "Exiled!"

The crowd reels back as though a tidal wave of shock and awe has just washed over it. The collective gasp is deafening and speaks everything that is in the hearts of fair-minded people.

At this instant, a portal begins to appear, a forceful wind swirling around like a tornado and picking up the debris that litters the ground around the Cutters. Everyone shields their faces from the risk of being hit by an errant bottle or stone. Electric blue light shines from the portal. Varah looks stonily at Lord Roman, but she does not utter a word. Something catches her eye to the right above the Lord's balcony. She sees the little boy who threw the rock at Broc. He is clutching Mel's face, forcing him to look directly at them, at the condemned family. Mel looks directly at Varah, his eyes apologizing for all that has just happened. Her eyes respond that there is no need to apologize. The little boy changes his expression, then changes in form, then transforms into Olivia. Varah's mouth drops, her eyes stare in disbelief. Catching her breath, she turns away, unwilling to lose control of her emotions at this critical time. She looks instead to Lordess Raven and Lord Topher and bows her head. Lordess Raven gets up from her chair and storms out, completely ashamed of what her peers have just done. Lord Topher follows after her. Varah firmly grasps her children's hands and guides them toward the spinning blue light. Before stepping through, Broc and Shenzara turn to make eye contact with Lord Roman, their eyes cold, fierce and dry. Pausing to give him a moment to reflect on his decision, they turn into the glowing blue light and walk through. Their destination: Earth.

**Chapter 14**

_Destination_

The warm winter sun shines down onto a busy city street. It's the holiday season, and people are bustling happily through the streets. Most are dressed in insulated gear, with knitted caps pulled down firmly over their ears and scarves wrapped protectively around their necks. Some sip on coffee or hot cocoa to keep warm. The outsides of the shops along the street are adorned in giant wreaths, and there is garland strung decoratively from lamppost to lamppost. Teenagers race from shop to shop in hopes of finding the latest, hot gift. Patches of melting snow are piled on street corners, the water flowing into underground vents, forcing up steam in every direction. The streets are noisy and full of life; the energy is contagious. Men and women dressed in Santa suits stand on every corner ringing bells, soliciting donations from citizens who walk by.

A homeless man, clothes disheveled and face slightly dirty, stands at the bank of the Hudson River. A _hefty_ garbage bag hangs over his shoulder. The cold river dances back and forth at his feet. He gazes out to the open bay, his wrinkled face appreciative of what gazes back at him: it's Lady Liberty. She holds her torch high, a welcoming symbol of hope for all to see. Freedom illuminates from her crown. She's simply beautiful.

Suddenly a cloud of dense, gold smoke appears in the winter sky, high above Lady Liberty's torch. What looks to be a solar eclipse casts a shadow over the city. People on street corners stop and look up. They point, dazed by what they are seeing. "Is there an eclipse today?" is heard from many points around the street. "What's going on?" echoes up and down the sidewalk. Little children with tiny, mitten-clad hands tug on their parents' jackets. "Mama, what's that?" "Daddy, what's happening?" The cloud of smoke encircles the sun, and heavy winds swoop down over the land, blowing the festivities out of control. Many citizens frantically grip street poles to hold steady. Parents cling to their children. Shopping bags rip from hands and wreaths and garland fly from their posts. Dogs bark warnings; they sense something's wrong. Around the sun, the gold smoke swirls slowly and descends toward the earth. Then, to the amazement of everyone on the ground, a shimmering blue hole opens up in the center of the sky.

Varah, Broc and Shenzara explode from the portal and free fall to Earth. The velocity forms a layer of fire underneath their bodies, the flares scorching their feet. They're like comets crashing to the planet, and their screams echo throughout the universe. Dramatically, their neck devices break away, exploding in midair, finally setting their powers free. Broc spreads his arms, mimicking a flightless bird. "Mom! Do something!" Shenzara closes her eyes, terrified. "We are so dead."

"Just hold on!" Varah shouts, her head spinning to find a plan of escape.

A gasp followed by a hush falls over the crowd below. They can't make out what's heading in their direction. Many take shelter; others continue to stare curiously into space. Increasing with the pull of gravity, the falling bodies speed toward the ground. Varah flails in the air, descending wildly. Her body crashes violently onto the top of a yellow taxicab. Her collision is massive and can be heard several miles away. The ground shakes, glass bursts in nearby buildings, car alarms blare. The top of the cab is indented by the power of Varah's fall. Her body lies sprawled, lifeless, on the roof of the cab. The city stands stunned for a full minute. Then, slowly, her eyes open. She blinks, dazed. Gradually her vision comes to focus and she finds herself staring into the eyes of a man. His body is nearly draped over hers, and his mouth and eyes are both round in utter surprise. Her unearthly beauty mesmerizes him. He examines her from head to toe, managing to muster a few words. "Are you okay? Ma'am? Ma'am?" Varah closes her eyes while the gold streak in her hair flickers dimly. Slowly, a golden glow encircles her body, prompting the man to back away. Varah recovers the use of her collapsed lungs, her breaths coming faster and harder as her healing power revives her. Her eyes pop open. Cautiously she glances around. "Ma'am?" the man repeats, "are you okay? How many fingers do I have up?"

Varah's tone is soft and assertive. "Remove yourself."

The man continues to stare at her. "Lady, you're hurt. I suggest you hold still until help comes." By this time, a crowd forms around the cab and the blare of an ambulance revs up in the distance.

Varah rubs her neck and realizes the Vicklor is gone. "It's gone! VCO VY COGO VY." Magically, the man rises from the street and dangles in the open air. The crowd is speechless; then, he is hurled into the street.

A woman cradling her child screams out, "Terrorist!" Varah cautiously rises from the demolished cab. Her eyes shift side to side, scanning the unfamiliar territory. A few citizens take cover, backing away or hiding in the doorways of stores.

Unable to see her children near her, Varah shouts, "Broc! Shenzara!"

Across the Hudson River, Broc is suspended high above the ground, his robe hooked on one of the spikes in the Statue of Liberty's crown. He dangles helplessly. "Mom! Is that you, Mom?"

Shenzara has an iron-tight grip on one of Broc's arms, hanging on for dear life. "Help! Help! Broc! Don't let go!"

Varah turns her head when she hears the voices of her kids over the commotion she has caused. "Broc, Shenzara? Where are you?"

Broc yells at the top of his lungs. "We're over here!"

Shenzara's grip loosens; she's slipping. "She shrieks, "Aaaahhh!!! Mom!"

Varah levitates, her arms outspread to get her bearings and her eyes zoning in on the location of her children. Camera phones flash all around, nearly blinding her. "VY VCO SOCO VY!" Magically the phones are ripped from the hands of the people and bashed to the sidewalk. Varah now floats above the crowd, her illuminating beauty is stunning, and her stance is aggressive. The crowd parts in fear of what might come next.

A few are angered by what they see, unable to understand what's going on. They shout, "Aliens!" "We don't want you here!" "Help! Police!"

Varah notices Broc and Shenzara across the river. She speeds over to them, the water separating, as she glides through it like a fierce knife.

"Mom, hurry!" Shenzara shrieks, her hand slipping from Broc's arm. She hangs by a single hand now, her panicked eyes darting around, searching for her mother.

Broc breathes harder, sweat covering his body as he uses every ounce of energy to hold his twin sister. "I won't fail you, Shenzara, hold on! Don't look down!"

"I think it's too late! I'm slipping! Help!!"

Varah reaches Lady Liberty, her eyes locked on her daughter. Just as she looks up, Shenzara's hand slips. She plummets toward the ground. Her screams echo across the water. Urgently, Varah lifts her hand and shouts, "VY VOY VOL VY!" The girl disappears in mid-air and reappears on the ground. Her screams continue, though, rising with the adrenaline-driven panic she feels.

Varah grasps her daughter by the shoulders and shakes her. "Shenzara! It's okay. You're safe. You're on the ground now."

Shenzara's screams fall silent, but she continues to pant, her chest heaving with each terrified gasp of breath. As her breathing gradually calms, she opens only one eye. She looks around. Then she opens the other eye. She breathes normally for the first time in this harrowing experience. She hugs her mother tightly. "I thought I was done for."

"I know, darling. It's okay."

Broc shouts down from the statue's crown. "Hello! Did you forget somebody up here?"

Varah lifts her hand to the sky. "VY VCO SOCO VY."

Broc magically descends to the ground.

"Thanks mom. What a rough welcome, huh? What is this place?"

Shenzara glances around, disappointment creeping over her face. Her eyes scan the polluted waters and the haze over the city. "If this isn't the lowest of the low, I don't know what is."

"It smells funny, I don't know if I like it here," agrees Broc.

Varah looks up to the sky and points just left of the sun. "That's where the portal opened. I'll get us home; there is no way we are staying here. VY VCO AWAY VOTO VOLONIA." Nothing happens. The kids look on, confused.

"Mom, are you serious?" Broc points across the river to draw her attention to an entourage of police officers boarding boats and speeding in their direction. "They don't look friendly. I think we should be going."

Varah sees the officers and then notices a few helicopters circling above. Shenzara grabs her mother in a panic, "Hurry Mom, get us home!"

"VY VCO AWAY VOTO VOLONIA!" Chants Varah, but nothing happens.

"I've done this teleporting spell plenty of times."

"Try it again! They're coming!" Shenzara screeches.

The boats speed across the Hudson River, sirens blaring. "Stop where you are!" The cops draw their guns and point them straight at the family.

Varah grabs Broc and Shenzara by the hands and looks to the sky. "VY VCO WEY VY!" Suddenly they disappear, leaving a cloud of gold smoke in their wake. The news copter hovers above, their cameras aimed down on the now-empty space.

Varah and the children reappear in an alley; then, without a moment to waste, they dash behind a large garbage bin. There they wait patiently for all evidence of pursuit to disappear before stepping out into the open. Two passing patrol cars with their lights and sirens blaring force them to duck into hiding one more time.

Shenzara paces angrily. "This is ridiculous. All this for conjuring the Vondercrat?"

Broc smiles playfully. "It's like we're Drifters!"

Varah's hands collapse to her side as she ponders their next move. She looks around to assess the situation.

"VY VCO SO," says Broc. He disappears then reappears a few feet away. "Well at least we got our powers back." Shenzara shrugs her shoulders, noticeably disappointed.

Varah wanders over to her. "Zara, you have got to trust me."

Broc nudges his sister with his arm. "We're here now; we should make the best of it."

"He's right." Varah points out.

The girl points at their hiding place, a large garbage bin, its smell causing her to gag. "Are you serious? Am I missing something? Last time I checked, that was garbage. We are surrounded by garbage." Her voice rises in pitch along with her emotions. "And furthermore, I am repulsed by this monstrosity. They need actual machines to carry them around. No thanks, I'll pass!"

Varah stares at the end of the alley, her mind scrambling for an alternate way out. She dramatically turns around to face the twins and says, "Lords! The Earthlings must have Lords here. We will appeal to their Lords!" Broc likes the idea and anxiously agrees. Varah paces, her brain in overdrive, trying to imagine the plan played out. "They must have Lords. Everybody has Lords."

Shenzara folds her arms and strolls swiftly up the alley. "Have fun finding them!"

Varah and Broc chase after her. "Zara, we must stay together. This is a foreign planet. It could be dangerous." Varah grabs her by the arm. "Got it?"

"But Mom..." she pleads. Varah doesn't budge. She repeats, her voice stern and clear. "Got it?"

Shenzara knows that look all too well; it's intimidating and serious. She concedes,

"I got it."

Varah walks up and down the deserted alley. Broc mocks Shenzara, taunting her as he points in her direction. She ignores him and follows closely behind her mom, who orders, "Let's go. We need to find a Lord."

Shenzara whispers softly. "Oh, my life is so over."

Sidney Phillips, a well-built, middle-aged Caucasian male standing six-feet two inches tall, walks down a non-descript hallway. He wears an Army General's uniform. A bit of gray gives depth to his beard. He walks with a barely-noticeable limp. He carries a folder that reads- in large, red letters- TOP SECRET. He arrives at the end of the hallway and stands before a pair of secured, metal doors. He looks around before placing a key badge over a metal plate. A guard at the door asks for his name and ID code.

"You're clear." The door unlocks and Phillips enters a spacious conference room. Several Generals occupy the table, which is scattered with papers and folders, indicating a lengthy meeting has been going on. This room is VIP only; it houses America's top Military personnel.

At the head of the table is the chair of the President of the United States, but he is not sitting in it. Instead, he is leaning over the chair from behind, his tie loosened, and his eyes bloodshot. His face bears the weary look of the man who shoulders the country's biggest problems. "Oh, Phillips," he says, looking up. "Thanks for coming. What do you have for us?"

Phillips opens his folder. An assistant places a cup of coffee in front of him. Phillips takes a sip and then takes his glasses from his suit pocket and places them at the tip of his nose. "There was a premature solar eclipse that's been providing a bit of chaos near the Hudson River."

President Duke inquires in a voice softened by exhaustion, "What does that mean?"

"That means we have everything under control. A comet the size of a soda can landed in the Hudson. No big deal."

Luther Tillman, a black General, sits next to the president. He clears his throat, obviously making a challenge to Phillips' story. "They are reporting an extra-terrestrial citing, Mr. President. There are reports that a man plans to leak footage to the media. Can you confirm, Mr. Philips?"

Phillips removes his glasses, to look General Tillman in the eye. "I assure you, General, that there is no footage and that this story is fabricated." Phillips glances around the room and says, almost light-heartedly, "Slow news day, right?"

President Duke closes his folder and rubs his eyes. "We have an election in six months, and the lack of security against terrorists has been a talking point on all the networks over the last few weeks."

"I understand, Mr. President," Phillips replies, bringing a bit more composure to his voice.

President Duke leans in to continue. "We don't need anything else that will plummet me in the polls."

Tillman turns to Phillips. "What has the media reported?"

Phillips folds his hands, turning to face several of the generals. "The usual. Aliens descend on America; yadda yadda; this will go away tomorrow. Pop star flashes her boobs at six. This story will be put to bed by seven. Americans have short attention spans."

President Duke rises, still unconvinced. "Don't let me down, Phillips."

A phone rings in the distance. A female assistant motions for the President. "President Duke, it's the Secretary of State." The President nods to adjourn the meeting.

The generals rise from their chairs and gravitate to small groups where they informally continue the discussion. Phillips collects his belongings. He greets a few of the aids in the back of the room and then gradually works his way over to President Duke, who is just hanging up the phone. He shakes the President's hand respectfully before walking away. "Phillips, wait." The President gives some parting instructions to the female aid that took the call and then turns to walk out the door with Phillips. They turn into a quiet, side hallway. A few Secret Service officers hover around them, but the President motions them away. The Secret Service men move farther away but only to where they can keep the President in site.

"What is it, Mr. President?"

The President leans in and looks Phillips straight in the eye. "Whatever it takes," he says, "make it go away."

Phillips smiles, his demeanor still nonchalant. "I assure you, Mr. President, there is nothing to make 'go away.'"

"As my CIA director, my expectations are for you to be on top of this. Any backlash, and I'll deal with it."

"So are you saying I have immunity regardless the outcome?"

The President's cold stare forces Phillips to take a step back, but his tone is firm. "Yes. Immunity." President Duke shakes Phillips' hand with as much expectation as only a President's handshake can convey.

Phillips turns to walk away soberly. He walks swiftly down the hallway, but when he turns back to look over his shoulder, he sees President Duke's watchful stare.

Varah and the twins walk down a cold, downtown New York street. Broc wraps his arms around himself and asks, "Why is my body shaking?"

Shenzara notices people staring in their direction. "Why are they all looking at us?"

"This planet's atmosphere seems to change our molecular structure rather quickly," replies Varah. She holds the kids close to share some warmth.

Broc notices a teenage boy walking toward them on the sidewalk. He wears a designer fur jacket. "VY VOC COCH," Broc says, smiling. Suddenly, the jacket disappears from the boy's body and reappears on Broc. The boy stops mid-step, his mouth dropped open, twisting his head from left to right and back again. He is baffled. He stands there for quite some time, trying to figure out what just happened.

"Fits perfectly!" Broc proclaims.

Varah turns to admire the coat, caressing the furry hood. "Mmmm, nice and soft." She glances into a department store window and sees a pair of mink coats on a set of two female mannequins, their heads covered with furry hats. "VY VCO COCH," pronounces Varah. The coats magically lift from the mannequins and disappear, only to reappear on the shoulders of Varah and Shenzara. "That's more like it." The saleswoman in the window notices her naked mannequins, puts her hands to her O-shaped mouth in shock, and then frantically makes a phone call. Varah backs away from the window. "That signals our departure." The family moves farther up the walkway, folding themselves into the crowded New York City streets.

"Mom, I'm hungry." Says Shenzara not long after.

"I am sure they have food around here somewhere," her mom replies, thinking practically as all moms do.

Broc sees a long line curving out the door of a storefront and trailing onto the sidewalk and points it out to his mother. "Hey, over there. They must have great food. Everybody's in line for it."

Shenzara turns up her nose. "We don't wait in lines."

Varah looks over at the people standing patiently and says to Shenzara, "I've taught you well." The family forces their way to the front of the line; Broc's stomach grumbling louder as they get closer.

Varah grips his arm. "Calm down."

"But Mom, you smell that...! It smells great!" Shenzara looks around the restaurant, a look of disgust quickly coming over her face. She starts backing out toward the exit.

Varah grabs her hand. "No. Wait, Zara. Let's at least try the Earthlings' food."

A woman in the line interjects, "No cutting please."

Shenzara turns to the woman, staring at her from head to toe. " _We_ are Volonians."

"Volonians?"

"Yes. Volonians. You heard me."

Varah ushers her children ahead. "They're hungry, and they won't wait."

Broc reaches the counter where a petite, Indian girl greets him. "Welcome to Juicy Burger. How may I help you?"

"We want food, please."

"Would you like a combo?"

"Yes."

"Which combo?"

"Yes." Broc's eyes light up, unable to contain his excitement.

"Which combo? A number one, or a..."

"Yes, a number one." The teenager smiles; she finds Broc's innocence adorable.

Varah steps up. "We will take that combo as well."

"Three combo number ones!"

Broc glances into the kitchen, impressed. "Look! There are like twenty of them back there! This must be the place to eat."

Varah glances around the crowded lobby. "That remains to be seen."

The young girl returns with their food and places the tray on the counter. "That will be $18.97." Broc takes the tray and turns to find a table. A manager notices this and walks up behind the petite, Indian girl. The manager is a heavyset woman with her hair safely tucked into a bun.

She grabs Broc's furry jacket and declares, loudly enough for everyone in line to hear, "She said $18.97."

Broc's smile fades. "What's that?"

Varah moves closer. "I don't know."

The manager's voice takes a more forceful tone. "If you can't pay, then I suggest you leave."

Varah looks to the people in the other lines, and sees them pulling out green paper and small, rectangular cards from their wallets. She has an idea. "VY VCO CMO VOLO." A handful of Volos appears, spilling over the counter.

"What is that?" the manager asks.

Shenzara pushes the coins forward. "Volos. On Volonia we use them as exchange for food, harmonies or even magic."

"Sweetie, I don't know what Volonia is, but this here is New York City, and we take Benjamin Franklins." She yanks the tray from Broc's surprised hands. "Next!"

Varah nudges Broc, who gathers the coins from the counter and shoves them into a jacket pocket. She then turns her back to the manager and whispers, "VY VCO CMO MONEY." Two bundles of fresh, green bills appear. Varah pushes the money in the lady's direction "Will this cover it?"

The lady looks strangely at the money, then at the family. She shoves the Indian girl out of the way, taking over the transaction. "Yes, this just about covers it. Enjoy your meal!" She takes one of the bills, puts it into the cash register and then shoves the rest down the front of her shirt. "I'm on a break, folks!" She swiftly turns on her heels and exits through the back door, leaving her employees standing in shock and shaking their heads.

Broc snatches the tray and runs for a table. Varah and Shenzara follow closely behind. They take their seats, shrug off their warm coats and wait for Broc to divide up the food. He takes a huge bite of his hamburger and his face is instantly transformed into a look of pure bliss. "This. Is. So. Good." He lingers on each bite as though it is the best meal he's ever had.

Shenzara notices his rapture over the burger and picks up a French fry, cautiously placing it in her mouth. "Hmmm, not bad." She takes another, and then another. She is now addicted.

Varah watches her kids enjoying their meals. "I guess it wouldn't hurt if I tried a bite." She leans in to smell the hamburger, but then cautiously backs away. "It smells normal... VY COO VENTIYA." A golden fork and knife magically appear in her hands. She politely cuts into her sandwich while a man watches her from a nearby table. She stares back. "What?" She puts a morsel of the sandwich on the tip of her fork. She closes her eyes as she readies herself for the first bite. Slowly, she brings the food into her mouth, chewing it very carefully. Momentarily, her eyes pop open. "That's good!" The twins smile and nod, their mouths too full to reply.

A Military helicopter lands in front of a modern, ten-story building. A pair of guards stands near the entrance. Phillips exits the helicopter and dashes across the grass. The wind from the rotor blades blows a few of his papers to the ground and then up and chaotically around the grass. His assistant Molly, a young intern, scrambles to fetch them, clutching each page against her chest to hold it from blowing away again. At the entrance, Phillips exchanges salutes with the guards before stepping through the door. Molly scampers close behind him, but not too close. He stops in the middle of the hall, sensing her struggles behind him. Molly catches up, unsuccessfully attempting to fix her wind-swept up-do. "Your papers, Director Phillips." He never looks straight at her, his eyes focused. He takes the papers from her hands, turns, and continues on his path. Molly remains in the lobby, staring at him as he continues down the hall.

Phillips reaches the elevator bay and punches the button for B7. The door immediately opens. Phillips enters the elevator and turns to hear the sound of feet racing to ride along with him. "Hold the elevator!" Phillips acts quickly. He pushes the DOOR CLOSE button, eliminating the chance of entertaining an unwanted companion. His eyes watch the numbers light up above the door. The elevator stops at B7, and the doors open, but Phillips does not move. He retrieves a specialized I.D. badge from his back pocket and holds down the B7 button while simultaneously placing the badge up to an obscure metal plate beneath the buttons. A message flashes on the viewing monitor reading LOWER LEVEL. As the elevator descends, Phillips' ears pop slightly. When the doors finally slide open, he exits to a hall that is quiet and empty. A silver door stands a few feet away from the elevator, a set of security cameras positioned above it, monitoring his every move. He presses his badge against a metal device on the side of the door. The door clicks open. Phillips enters a high-tech room; monitors and computer equipment fill the space. A Myan 700, a contraption reminiscent of a windmill, sits at the center of the room: a military satellite that converts electrical frequencies into holograms. Phillips taps a button, turning the machine on. While it starts up, he goes to sit behind a desk, looking at a huge display of security monitors. He assures himself that the coast is clear. He types a password into the computer then walks over to the converter and positions it, pointing it toward an elevated platform. He dims the overhead light and steps back in front of the converter. He pauses before pushing the ENTER button. He waits patiently, but sweat is dripping from his forehead, revealing he is actually quite the opposite of calm. He bites his lip nervously as the satellite boots up. He yells, "Joriyah!" A small whirlwind circles the room, scattering papers from the tables. A beam of light from the converter sends an image to the platform. As it gradually comes into focus, we see that it is Menace. He sits in a chair made for a king, his face partially hidden by his hood. The hologram flickers rapidly, making it hard to see him clearly.

"And to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, General?"

"You said it was over, Joriyah."

"Silly Earthling. It has only begun."

Phillips takes a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wipes sweat from his forehead. "The President is on my tail. We had a deal."

Menace's voice lowers. He caresses his golden scepter. "We have a new deal."

"What are you talking about?" Phillips steps forward, an attempt at masking his fear that fails. "Tell me what's going on."

"A portal opened in your world a few hours ago."

"That wasn't part of the deal, Joriyah!"

"I prefer to be called Menace, if you please."

Phillips ignores his commentary and loosens his tie, his eyes almost rolling in disrespect. Menace brutally bangs the end of his scepter to the floor. Phillips falls to one knee while the noise blares through the hologram, its high pitch nearly-rupturing his eardrums.

"I see I've caught your attention, Mr. Director." Menace slowly gets up from his throne. He struts closer, his pale face squarely in the center of the hologram. His voice drops a full octave lower. "There is a Volonian woman that was exiled into your world a few hours ago. She has something I need, and I expect you to capture her at once."

"And how am I supposed to do that?"

"Carefully."

Phillips shakes his head, confused.

"And let's say I capture her. How do I get her to you?"

"Leave that to me. I have a spy here. A portal to your world will open in a few days to bring home exiled Volonians who are living among your people. Their banishment will soon come to an end, and they will be free to return to Volonia."

Phillips' eyes widen. "What are you saying?"

Menace stares intently, his sinister grin sending a chill down Phillips' spine. "I'm coming to Earth for the woman who is called Varah." Phillips can't seem to move, his expression is frozen and his thoughts running rampant. In a few days, he'll be face-to-face with Menace: a bitter adversary, or a new ally?

**Chapter 15**

_In Search of a Lord_

It's late in the evening. The sun slowly sets and winter snow falls from the sky. Despite the cold, the streets of New York are full of people roaming from restaurant to bar to hotel. A group of friends stumble around drunk while others sing out loud and out of tune, providing great entertainment for onlookers. Varah, Shenzara and Broc walk quickly along the cold, downtown street, huddled together to share warmth. Both kids clutch Varah's arms and stare, amazed at the steam escaping their mouths. They've never experience cold like this. Varah points to a billboard that reads, _Lord of Christ, Church of the Living_. "Look! The Lord of Christ! He must be their primary Lord!"

Broc stops to look at the billboard as he rubs his hands together, trying to create some warmth. "You mean the Lord of Earth?"

Shenzara points to the billboard. "No, it says the Lord of Christ."

Broc shivers. "Can we find the Lord tomorrow? I can't feel my legs, Mom."

"No. We must find the Lord of Christ as soon as possible." She glances over at her children, their noses are red and their eyes are watering. She concedes. "Okay, tomorrow. Let's find shelter."

Shenzara points to a building across the street. It is beautifully decorated along the outside with Christmas trees. A few well-dressed people are gathered near the doors, which are made of gold. Two doormen in long, thick coats stand guard at the door. The Cutters stand to watch them for a minute, curious about why guards would be so friendly and let people in so easily. "Looks like a very welcoming place," Shenzara points out. The sign near the entrance of the building reads RITZ CARLTON. Varah lifts her hands. "VY VCO VANDAR." Suddenly the Vandar, Volonia's book of words, appears in her hand.

Shenzara turns to her. "What are you doing?"

"I'm finding out what a RITZ CARLTON is."

Shenzara helps Varah turn the pages while Broc nudges his way in between the two to peek in. "But isn't the Vandar a book of words for Volonia?" he asks.

"Yes, but the Vandar can translate words from any planet. _Ritz Carlton_. Here we are." Shenzara's index finger follows from word to word as she reads, "A brand of luxury hotels or resorts."

Broc jumps up and down. "A resort! We love resorts! Auduit Alexander took Shenzara and me to the Vavilar resort. Remember Shenzara?" Shenzara dashes across the street, mm excitement leading the way. Broc chases after her. "Wait for me!"

Car horns blare as the twins' dash into traffic. Ignoring the warnings, Varah struts across the street like a Queen, her robe trailing behind her in the crosswalk. The horns honk more persistently. Varah pauses in the middle of the street, glancing regally at the annoyed drivers. Believing the honks are some type of homage for her, Varah lifts her head high and continues her stroll across the street, smiling a smile that says she is quite satisfied with herself.

As Varah takes her final step to the curb, Broc grabs her arm and pulls her forward. "Look! Look!" He points at the largest window of the hotel. An indoor waterfall occupies the center of the Lobby. The family walks quickly past the friendly guards and through the golden doors, which the doormen hold open for them to pass freely into the Ritz Carlton.

Shenzara smiles and says, "Thank you," to the doorman who grins as he ushers the family inside.

Broc whispers in Shenzara's ear. "I could get used to this."

Shenzara slaps Broc on the arm and points to the indoor waterfall. "Look! It's a miniature Isle of Waterfalls."

Broc runs over to it and leans over the low wall, playfully splashing the clear, sparkling water. "Mom, look! It's the Isle!"

Varah keeps her focus. She's all business. "That's nice. Let's go." She leads them through the spacious lobby.

Shenzara hurries over to a red, plush lounger. She sits comfortably, closing her eyes as she allows the soft, quilted velvet to warm her chilled bones. "So soft and comfy... just like my byan."

Broc runs over and leaps next to her onto the lounger. His shoes are covered in snow, but he jumps up and down nonetheless. "It's just okay. I like a little more bounce."

Varah glares over at Broc, who freezes immediately. "VY ALO MAV." He disappears and reappears next to Varah, ashamed.

Sorry, I was just having a little fun."

"We can have fun when we find the Lord of Christ." Varah and the twins wait at the registration desk.

A heavy-set African American woman is behind the counter, her hair set in a tight afro. She wraps her hands around a cup of hot cocoa to keep warm. Her loud, friendly greeting catches Varah off-guard. "Welcome to the Ritz, folks!"

Varah purposely ignores her welcome and moves on with her mission. "Where can we find the Lord of Christ?"

The clerk leans forward, her eyes fixed on Varah's face. "You don't know Jesus?"

Broc look to his mom, his head cocked to one side.

"Can you help us find the Lords of Earth?" Varah asks, rephrasing her question. The clerk smiles at Varah and attempts to answer the question. "The Lord lives in you, ma'am."

Broc places both hands on the counter, frustrated. "The lord lives in us? Mom, what is this Earthling talking about?"

Shenzara turns her back to the counter, her hope for returning home diminishing. "We're never going home."

Varah collects herself; she pushes her hair behind her ears. "Who is your highest ranking official? Let's start there."

"The mayor."

"The mayor is the highest ranking official of Earth?"

"No, of New York."

"What is New York?"

"Where you're standing. You know, the city."

Varah turns to the kids. "Are you two following this?"

Shenzara rolls her eyes, sarcasms creeping into her explanation. "I'm assuming it's like Volonia. We have five sectors collectively forming Volonia, but separately they stand alone like this forbidden atrocity." Shenzara smirks at the hotel clerk. "No offense."

The clerk nods obligingly. "None taken. The president is the most powerful officer of the free world."

Varah doesn't get it. Frustrated, her fingers pull at her hair. "The free world?" Varah impatiently shifts her weight to one hip.

The clerk leans in and whispers softly, her eyes keeping a look out for her own higher authority. "What are ya'll doin' in here anyway? I barely see us in here ever. Well, but there is Whoopi Goldberg. I see her from time to time. She lives nearby."

Shenzara turns toward the woman. "Whoopi? Us?"

"Yes, you know. African Americans."

Varah leans in, following the clerk's lead by whispering, "What is an African American?"

The clerk reels back, covers her mouth to conceal her laugher. "You are African American! Your skin proves that, sweetie!"

Broc pushes his shirtsleeve upward, indicating his mocha skin. "What's wrong with our skin?"

The woman realizes the family is serious. Her mouth drops. "Are you serious? Look at the color."

Varah doesn't understand, so she moves the conversation in a more productive direction. "Where are the rulers? Where can I find them?" The clerk points to a picture of the White House on a nearby wall. "What's that?" Varah replies.

"It's the White House!" the clerk says, astonished.

Shenzara walks over to the framed historic portrait and reads its title. "The White House. Ok, so whose white house is it?"

The clerk motions for Varah to come closer. "It's the home of The President of the United States. But you can't just walk in there. There's Secret Service everywhere. You need an invitation."

Broc walks over to Shenzara and places his hand on her shoulder as he looks on. "So, where is this White House?"

The clerk shouts, "Washington D.C! Am I on one of those hidden reality shows?"

Broc points at the picture, his eyes carefully examining it. "Is that another earth?"

"No, it's another sector, I presume," says Shenzara.

The clerk smiles at Broc. "Now you've got it. It's a state down the Atlantic."

Varah walks over to hover behind Broc and Shenzara. "We must go there."

Broc turns, his eyes drooping rather quickly. "Can we at least rest here for the night?"

The clerk yells to them across the lobby floor. "We have a few rooms still available!"

Varah agrees. "We'll take one."

The clerk holds a pen over a piece of paper on the counter. "Sign here. And here." Varah walks over and signs her name. "That will be five hundred dollars a night," the friendly clerk informs them.

Varah motions to Broc and Shenzara to shield her. Broc moves to block the woman's view. "VY VOLO VENTI VY." A stack of money magically appears, and to the delight of the clerk, Varah places it on the counter.

"Oooh, baby. Somebody's ballin'."

Varah looks on, confused; she pushes the money forward. "Ballin?"

The woman removes the money from the counter. "Never mind."

On the sixth floor, the family steps out of the elevator. The hallways are wide; pieces of custom furniture line the hallway at intervals. The carpet has a modern, floral pattern. The air smells of fresh linen. Broc inhales deeply. "Mmmm. What's that smell?"

Shenzara shifts her body as not to touch the walls. "I was wondering the same thing."

"I see living in upper Volonian has gone to your heads," says Varah.

Broc notices a group of numbers posted on the wall. He points to the left. "Our castle is this way." He dashes to room 607 and places the card to the door, but nothing happens. "Isn't it supposed to open this way?"

Shenzara snatches the card from him. "You're not doing it right." She drops the card to the floor and slides it underneath the door with her foot. "It should open now."

They wait. Shenzara clutches the knob and turns, but it's locked. Varah nudges Shenzara to the side. "Stand back. VOCO VY SI VAYAN." The door magically opens. The family walks into the spacious room. Three large, plush beds welcome them. A small living room with a sixty-inch television is visible through an open doorway. Broc is delighted and dashes over to the nearest bed and hops from one to the other.

Shenzara mopes. "My life is officially over."

Varah glances around the room, her smile fading, her expectations leveled.

Broc smiles; then, "VY VCO VY." He disappears from one bed and reappears on another. "We must make the best of what we have!"

Shenzara chucks a pillow in his direction. "Mom's Omn looks better than this."

Broc's eyes fixate on the sixty-inch television in the next room. He points. "What's that?" He bounces to the floor and wanders over.

"Broc, be careful," his mother cautions.

"What do you think it is?" Broc notices a red button on the television. He pushes it and immediately backs away, unsure of what to expect. The light from the television illuminates the room,

Varah readies herself. "Get back." A music video plays on the television.

Broc mimics the harmony shifting. "It's like a Vop cast."

"What are they doing?" Shenzara asks as she pushes Broc to the side. She demonstrates her own interpretation of the dancing by harmony shifting, her hips gyrating in a circular motion and her hands lifted above her head. She snaps her fingers with excitement. The kids compare their harmony shifting. "You're doing it all wrong, Broc. Use less hip and more back." Broc watches Shenzara as he attempts the moves. Shenzara chuckles. "You're off, buddy."

Varah lounges on the bed with her legs crossed, a smile spread across her face. For the first time in days she's in the moment. She shares in the fun the kids are having. "You guys are really cute, you know?" Shenzara catches herself. She clears her throat and collects herself.

Broc nudges her. "Why did you stop, Zara? I was getting it."

"That's enough," Varah says as she gets up from the bed. Her happiness has been put aside. Her eyes are staring into the distance and her mind is somewhere else. She pulls both hands together and thrusts them in the air "VCO VY VOO WHITE HOUSE." Suddenly, a miniature hologram of the White House floats above a nearby coffee table. "This is where we must go."

Broc kneels for a closer inspection. "It's just like the picture, Mom. You're good."

Shenzara steps in front of the hologram, blocking Broc's view. "You heard what the lady said. We need an invitation, Mom."

"I'm the ex-veil of a Lord. I need no invitation."

Broc shrugs his shoulders as he breaks the news to Varah. "But this is Earth Mom. I'm sure they have rules here, just like Volonia."

Varah paces the room. "VY VCO VOALO." She now dons a gold robe, its plunging neckline revealing a bit too much. Her hair is pulled up and wrapped into a loose knot, emphasizing her long neck and the over-exposed view of her deep, brown skin.

Broc is embarrassed and glances away. "Mom. What's the deal with that robe?" Shenzara shakes her head and whispers to herself. "She can't be serious."

Varah places one hand on her hip, her shoulders shrugging and her eyes searching for an answer. "I just feel more comfortable, that's all. I can think more clearly in this. Is that okay with the both of you?"

Shenzara exits to the bathroom, "VCO SOYA VY." Her clothes magically change, and a velvety black robe covers her body. "Two can play at that game." She slams the door.

Broc rushes over to the television and pushes another button, which continually switches the channel. CIA director Sidney Phillips' face appears on every channel. He is giving a news conference from the Pentagon. A caption on the screen reads _Aliens Invade America._ Varah sits up and takes notice; she lifts her hand "VY VENTI VY." The volume increases. "What is the Earthling talking about?" Broc sits cross-legged on the floor, staring into the screen. Varah curiously steps closer. Phillips addresses a room packed with reporters. A group of New York's Finest stands in a tight line behind him as he speaks. Phillip's assistant Molly takes notes from the side of the room. She anxiously shuffles her papers as she looks on.

A reporter fires a question. "So, are you saying that this alien invasion is a hoax?" Phillips taps on the microphone assuring its volume is on. His red cheeks are a clear sign that he isn't prepared for the interrogation. He loosens his tie before raking his fingers through his hair. "That is exactly what we are saying. We ask the American people not to panic. There is nothing to fear."

The same reporter interrupts Phillips, his tone louder and more aggressive. "So Mr. Director, you're saying that we're supposed to believe that the government is telling us the truth?"

Phillips grips the podium and leans into the microphone. "Yes. National security is a top priority for the government. We have a secure situation. Everyone can move on with his or her day." Phillips takes a calming breath, focuses himself and stares directly into the camera. His voice is noticeably deeper and slower when he says, "Anything or anyone seen as a threat to the American people will suffer unyielding consequences." Phillips nods and quickly exits the stage as a barrage of questions fly at his back.

Broc turns to Varah, hiding his fear with a weak smile. "Mom, we're going to be okay here, right?"

Varah rises. She walks over to Broc and sits on the floor next to him. "We'll be fine, my darling." She rubs his head, which seems to comfort him, but as she does so, she is immediately reminded of Broc as a little boy. Her reassuring smile quickly turns into a worried frown. She gets up from the floor and goes to knock on the bathroom door.

"I'll be out in a minute!" Shenzara calls out from the other side.

Varah talks through the door. "Shenzara, we need to talk."

"Varah. I'll be out in a minute, OK?"

Varah takes a step back. "Did she just call me...VY VCO ROVY." Varah magically walks through the door and stands behind Shenzara, who stands in front of a mirror. A brush floats in midair, smoothing her hair. Varah snatches the brush and slams it on the counter. "It's 'Mom', and don't ever call me Varah again."

Shenzara turns, her eyes round as saucers. She realizes a line has been crossed. "I got it. Sorry. I was absorbed in the moment."

Varah points. "Sit." Shenzara reluctantly perches on the edge of the bathtub. "Listen to me. You know I love you."

Shenzara shifts on the tub. It's apparent that she's uncomfortable. "I know, Mom. Is this 'The Talk'?"

"No, but I'll make it quick. You're stronger and more independent then I ever was as at your age." Shenzara listens intently, softening her face as she feels the sincerity in Varah's voice. Varah takes Shenzara's hand and holds it between her own. "Broc isn't like you. He counts on you, Zara. He is your other half. You have to always stick together, and take the time to make sure he's okay."

"Mom, why are you telling me this?"

Varah looks to the floor and then lifts her head. She stares into Shenzara's eyes; then, she removes her daughter's bracelet and places it on her own wrist. "I just want to always know that you're both okay. He's the only brother you have."

Shenzara's tone softens. She moves closer, nose-to-nose with her mother now. "Mom, we will get home, and we will be fine."

Varah smiles nervously. "You always have the right words." She kisses Shenzara on the forehead and says, "I think this is yours." Shenzara lifts her hand as the bracelet floats back onto her wrist. "VY VAMORE"

Shenzara sit in silence, then whispers. "VY VAMORE."

The wind blows wildly. A government helicopter sits with its propellers spinning outside a tall building. Molly patiently stands alongside the helicopter. Phillips exits the building, the wind slowing his stride. He is being followed by a group of angry reporters. They shove microphones toward his back, but Phillips silently maintains his forward focus. A few government officials step in to usher the reporters away. Phillips hurries to the helicopter as the doors fly open. He climbs inside. Molly follows him and straps herself into her seat before handing Phillips notes for his next meeting. Two men in dark suits also step in and greet the CIA Director. They take their seats directly across from Phillips and clamp on their headsets. They hand a third pair to Phillips, who obliges by putting them on.

Solomon, a white male, bald and wielding a strong attitude, removes his sunglasses. The helicopter motor is loud, forcing him to yell. "Is there something you should be telling us, Phillips?"

Phillips taps his notes on this leg, straightening out the papers. Leisurely, he looks up at Solomon. "You saw the press conference. Did I leave something out?" Molly sits quietly and stares out her side window.

The other man is Donny, a white male with short-cropped, brown hair. He is more of the laid-back type. He cracks his gum in his back teeth before addressing Phillips. "Would you agree that you almost let this one get away?"

Phillips glances at both men. He chuckles. "What is this about, really?"

Donny removes his suit jacket and lays it on the arm of his chair. "The President wants confirmation that we don't have a problem."

"I assured President Duke that it was taken care of."

Solomon nods, his grin getting tighter. He glances out the window and then back to Phillips. When he speaks again, his tone is different--more sinister. He leans in; his arms bent on his knees. "The President wants to talk to them."

Phillips crosses his legs trying to find a more protective position. "Them? Who are you talking about?"

"Let's make this as easy as possible, Phillips." Solomon sits back, slapping his hands on his thighs as he prepares to lay it on the line. "We've been monitoring your programs for years, Phillips. Do you think we're stupid?"

Donny places his hand in the space in front of Solomon. "What Solomon is saying is true. We know all about the planet and its frequent 'deposits'." Phillips's secret is unraveling before his eyes. He blinks, and then he listens.

Solomon crosses his arms on his broad chest. "You're not the only one with access to those satellites, my friend. Where are they?" Molly, lacking a headset, remains left out. She's forced to read lips as she scribbles on a notepad.

Phillips uncrosses his legs and sits up taller in his seat, curious about what they actually know. "I don't know that."

Solomon whispers. "Progress? I assumed you'd put up a bigger fight."

"I have to warn you: this could be dangerous." replies Phillips nervously.

"Have you ever encountered one of them?" Phillips shuffles his papers. "What did they offer you, Phillips, money? Power? The Presidency? You fool." Phillips remains silent. "That's perjury."

Phillips begins to sweat. He can't believe what he's hearing. "You want the truth? Or are we going to continue playing this game?" Solomon uncrosses his arms, motioning for him to continue.

"I am in contact with their leader. Joriyah."

Donny types on his laptop. "Joriyah?"

"Yes. From what I'm told he's their leader. We have to be careful, though. He's powerful."

Solomon ignores Phillips. He reaches into his pocket for his cell phone. "We decide who's powerful. You have 24 hours to hand over all your documents or we go public. Your face will be plastered on every channel. _' CIA director harbors aliens in hopes of a world take-over.'" _Solomon waits for a response, his grin wide. "I didn't think so." Phillips turns to Molly, silently evaluating his options.

Night has fallen on Lower Volonia. It's quiet, but a few drifters still walk the streets. A ball of fire descends from the sky and glides through Menace's Cave. The ball of fire speeds through the narrow walkway to reach Menace's cove. It descends, pauses over the ground, and then morphs into Olivia. She stands, hands on hips in all her wicked beauty; then, she quickly surveys the place. Her red robe hugs her body; her every curve flattered by it. The cove is empty. She huffs, annoyed. "Joriyah darling! Won't you join me for a conversation?"

A cloud of black smoke seeps through the walls, and the floor vibrates slightly. Olivia waves, clearing the air in front of her face as the black smoke morphs into Menace. His hood shields his face as always, and his voice is gritty. "I assume you know by now."

Olivia turns her back to Menace, temper flaring. Her fingers slide down her hips. "Yes. Betrayal is an old friend of mine."

"And yet you assumed he was on your side."

Olivia turns to Menace, already moved on from this topic. "Forget about Mel. Let's talk about us." She slinks over to Menace, lust drawing her closer, circling him. "We have something in common, you and me, Joriyah. We shouldn't let your deception keep us from that."

Menace lifts his head, his curiosity peaked. "And what would that be?"

Olivia slides her fingernail down Menace's back, but he isn't amused. He steps away. "The Vondercrat," she says, a sneer on her otherwise-beautiful face.

"Tell me something I don't know, Olivia."

Olivia shifts to the center of the room, her eyes fixated on the rocky formations that make up the Cove's walls. She points. "Is this all you're about? Is this where it ends?" Menace slams the bottom of his scepter to the floor. The floor comes to life, huge waves of rock ripple violently towards Olivia. She levitates to avoid the surge. "Oh Joriyah, don't be so destructive. I'm on your side." Menace lifts his scepter; black smoke seeps from the crown. Sensing his signal to exit, Olivia seductively bats her eyes, "VCO VAO CASVO." Menace's scepter flies from his hands; a surge of power escapes Olivia's body and collides into Menace's chest, sending him crashing into the rocky wall behind. An avalanche of rock and debris covers his fallen body. Cautiously, Olivia steps toward him. She looks to confirm he's unconscious and then celebrates with a wide, sadistic grin. Within moments, however, the rocks explode outward from the heap, a few fragments striking Olivia and forcing her to lift her arms in defense and to stumble toward the ground. Menace levitates, furious. He lifts his hands; thunder cracks, increasing his power. Olivia gets up from the ground. She steps forward, wiping dust from her robe and shaking her head. "Wait. This will get us nowhere. She places her hands back on her hips, annoyed. "Look. We join forces, find Varah and then go our separate ways. You need me."

Menace contemplates her proposition, his voice slower and deeper when he speaks. "Once we find her, we go our separate ways."

Olivia nods, her smirk untrusting. Menace lifts his head, his scepter flies back into his hand. This time, his voice is a whisper. "At the rise of Vamo the Lords will open a portal to Earth. It will be exclusively for all exiled Volonians returning from distant planets."

"How did you get your claws on that prime piece of information?"

"A close acquaintance..."

Olivia steps closer, intrigued. "Everyone does have their price..."

"The portal will open near the Vamead Hills in Sector Three."

"Isolation. Very sneaky, those Lords. How does the security look?"

Menace grins. "A single Guide, if you consider that security."

Olivia turns, pacing the enclosed space. The thrill of the battle is intoxicating to her. She clenches her fist tightly. "It can't be this easy."

Menace lifts his head." The Lords' assumptions are wrong. Earth can be a fun place, actually." Menace stalks behind Olivia, his pale mug eerie, and his eyes taking on a wild glow. "The portal opens for only a few minutes."

Olivia smiles, confident. "A few minutes will be more than enough time." Standing again in the center of the cove, Olivia gives Menace one final, seductive smile and then morphs back into a ball of fire. "I'll meet you at the Vamead Hills at sunrise."

She rises to the sky and blasts out of the cove. Menace stands watching, electrified by her power.

A moment later, a mysterious man draped in a dark robe covering his face appears in the spot Olivia just vacated. Menace turns to ask, "Is everything in place?" The unknown man nods silently and then lifts his hands. A hologram of tomorrow's portal location floats in the dark of the space. Menace takes a good look. A sign reads, _Vamead Hills_ - _Tilly Mount._ The unknown man does not speak a word. He moves his hands again as if to pull the hologram into the dark of his robes, and then he quickly disappears. Menace stares at the space where he can still imagine the hologram; he grins sadistically. "Varah my dear, you better be ready." He laughs a chilling laugh before morphing into a cloud of black smoke.

**Chapter 16**

_The Arrival of Evil_

The House of Lords is quiet. House guards police the corridor, constantly patrolling down both ends of the hall. Lord Roman walks into the corridor looking pale and unhappy. Lordess Semelia steps out of a doorway to meet him. "How are you holding up, Roman?"

Lord Roman shrugs his shoulders, "I don't know."

Lordess Semelia places her hand on his shoulder, the warmth of her touch somehow sending vibrations of comfort into him. "It's only one cycle. I'm confident they will be fine."

Lord Roman lifts his head. There is a pleading look in his eyes. "You think I made the right decision?" he asks, his pride put aside for the moment.

"You were backed up against the wall. You had no choice." Lordess Semelia looks into his bloodshot eyes. His uncertainty is evident. "Making decisions in the House is not the hard part. It's living with them that creates the conflict." She pauses and then turns back into the doorway. "Come. We must open a portal for the return exiles."

Lord Roman and Lordess Semelia glide into a small room. The other three Lords stand waiting. Lord Roman nods as he makes eye contact with each of them, pausing when he looks to Lord Vondell. Lordess Raven gets up to hug Lord Roman, whispering in his ear. "They'll be fine." Lord Roman closes his eyes and bows his head slightly, thankful for her sentiment.

Lord Vondell speaks up to force an order. "Lords, take your places please." Lord Vondell's attempt at rushing the meeting is successful, and the others quickly move into place. The room is somber at best. Lord Vondell continues by taking the lead in officiating the Return Ceremony. "Please lift your left arm and repeat after me. VCO VI VY SOI RETURN PORTAL." The Lords, each one-by-one, lift their bronze crowns as high as their arms can extend. Rays of energy shoot from them and arch into a single blaze of light, creating a portal, gleaming and bluish in its swirling glow. The Lords stare into the portal, to await the return of the exiled Volonians from their one-cycle sentences to distant planets.

We view a dry, windy hilltop. It's warm out, but not a person is in site aside from Menace and Olivia, who hide themselves behind a nearby boulder. "Are you sure this will work?" Olivia questions.

Menace focuses on his target. "We will soon find out." From behind the other side of the hill, a Guide appears. It's Monoia. He stands alone at the crest of the hill and looks around. He folds his arms, patiently waiting for something. Suddenly, a portal appears. Its bright blue color spills out onto the hilltop. Menace and Olivia ready themselves, their energy concentrated toward the portal. A few Volonians wander out of the portal, they hug Monoia tightly. Some wipe away a few tears. Others drop to their knees and seem to embrace the dusty hillside.

Menace glances over to Olivia and lifts his scepter. "Now!" Olivia morphs into a ball of fire, ascending and speeding toward the portal. Menace disappears into a cloud of smoke and magically appears next to Monoia, startling the Guide.

"How did you get here? This land is sacred." The few returning Volonians hurry away, their fearful faces eliciting a wicked smile from Menace. Monoia runs for cover as Menace lifts his scepter to beam a blast of power at him, sending the Guide face-first to the ground.

"Welcome home, Volonians," Menace says with a bone-chilling laugh.

At this moment, the ball of fire shoots into the portal. Menace scans the Vamead Hilltop, his mission accomplished. His scepter leads his movement into the portal, which closes quickly behind him.

Monoia lifts his battered face and tries to catch his breath. He searches the hillside looking to ensure the safety of the returning Volonians. He simply can't make sense of what just happened.

Varah, Broc and Shenzara stand on a corner in Times Square looking a little baffled. "We must find the president," Varah says, restating their mission.

"Mom, you think the president can open a portal to send us home?"

Varah seems unsure. "Let's hope so." She notices a few New Yorkers waving down cabs.

Broc points to them. "It's those transporters. Maybe one of them can take us to the White House."

Unpleased, Shenzara corrects him. "They're called cars, and they take a long time to travel to your destination."

Varah's impressed. "Look at you, learning about planet Earth."

Shenzara walks to the curb, seemingly bored. "I had no choice. I read a few things about this boring planet in the Vandar." Varah lifts her hand for a cab, but each one passes her by. She's puzzled.

Broc is concerned. He notices the cabs picking up other patrons. He stands on the edge of the street and lifts both hands in the air, attempting to flag one down. "Why aren't they stopping?"

Varah's demeanor shifts from focused to frazzled. She strides out into the center of the street, her robe trailing behind her. At least five cabs drive by. A few horns blow as cars swerve to avoid hitting her. A bright orange cab speeds in her direction, but doesn't slow down.

Broc panics and covers his eyes. "Mom! Watch out!" Varah lifts her hand toward the speeding vehicle. The cab stops abruptly, only inches from Varah. She steps demurely over to the driver's side and presses her face up against the window.

The cab driver rolls down the window. He has a baffled expression on his face and his turban is nearly unraveled, hanging lopsided over his face. His Indian accent is thick. "Lady, are you out of your mind?"

"We would like to go to the White House," Varah says in response as she looks through the driver's window.

"Wait. Tell me. How did you do that?" says the cab driver.

Broc pokes his head into the window next to Varah. He grabs the steering wheel and tries to maneuver it. "Can you show me how this thing works?"

Varah motions to him to get into the back seat. "Leave the man alone, Broc. He's obviously a servant." Varah enters the car from the rear. Shenzara stands quietly on the curb, her patience wearing thin. Varah bargains with the driver. "If you take us to the White House, I'll give you 1 million Earth dollars."

Broc nudges Varah. "Make it 2 million, Mom."

"Okay, 2 million Earth Dollars is yours if you take us to the White House."

The man looks around, unable to believe what he's hearing. "Lady, where are you going to get 2 million dollars?"

Varah turns to Broc who nods. He knows what to do, moving into position to shield her. "VY VOLO MILUN." A bag of money appears in Varah's hands, and she pours a few bills through the small exchange window. "Will this be enough?" The driver sifts through the stack of bills in his lap, looking very confused. He turns to look at Varah, who is smiling contentedly. "Do we have a deal?"

The driver erratically stuffs a few of the stacks into his opened shirt. "Deal!"

Varah and Broc move over to make room for Shenzara, who reluctantly enters the cab while placing her hand over her nose. "Shenzara, come on."

Shenzara shakes her head and says, "It smells in here."

Varah rolls down the window to appease her daughter; then, masking her uncertainty, she whispers under her breath, "This should be quick." She leans forward to ask the driver, "How long will the ride be to Washington D.C.?"

The driver smiles, fingering the stack of bills as he says, "Oh, not long."

Varah pushes for an answer. "How long?"

The driver glances up into the rearview mirror. "Oh, about four hours."

Broc and Shenzara turn to Varah. "Four hours?"

Shenzara folds her arms and drops her head back onto the cushioned seat. "We're going to Washington, not another planet. This is plainly ridiculous. Where's a portal when you need one?"

Only moments later, Broc fiddles anxiously with his bracelet. He leans forward. "Are we close?"

Varah uses her arm to force Broc back into his seat. "Just enjoy the ride, guys. Look at it this way- we can never get this moment back."

"We can only hope," says Shenzara, turning up her nose.

Broc turns to his mother, his excitement depleted. "What are we going to do for four hours?"

Varah's tone lifts with a hint of sarcasm at the core. "Meditate."

A grove of trees lines the edge of a large, tranquil park. Several dogs roam the grassy area as their owners follow close behind. Runners jog along a paved trail in both directions, their minds focused on their distant goal. A second dirt trail leads into a heavily wooded area. A hot dog vendor who looks to be in his late sixties calls out to anyone who can hear him. His voice is weak and raspy. "Get your fresh hotdogs!" Bystanders pass him by. He is a fixture in the park that they no longer notice. The vendor checks his watch before closing the metal lid of his hotdog warmer. He latches it with a lock and puts up a sign that reads BACK IN 5 MINUTES. Old age has caught up with him, and he wobbles deep into the wooded area. He follows the dirt trail that leads into a dark corner shaded by trees. He periodically peeks over his shoulder until he reaches the shadiest area where the branches shield him from everything in sight. His hand moves quickly to his zipper. He exhales slowly as he relieves himself. Suddenly, a portal magically appears, its bright shimmering light casting rays of blue onto the leaves of the trees, creating a psychedelic effect. The vendor quickly zips up, not believing his eyes "What in the name of Jesus...?"

Olivia strolls out of the portal, her hands are attached to her hips as always, and her strut is confident and sexy.

"Who are you?" asks the stunned, old man.

Olivia ignores him. She glances around the dimly lit park. She walks over to the vendor, lifting an elegant hand to caress his worn and tattered clothing. She is intrigued by the texture. "Where is Varah?"

"Who?"

Olivia's tone gets louder and deeper when she asks him again. His lack of a comprehensible answer ignites her. She brings her hands together in front of her chest and then quickly opens them. "VY VALORE VOOL!" A bright, white ball glides toward the vendor, who watches curiously it as it floats in front of him. Then, as he stands transfixed, it quickly explodes in his face, releasing an intense, white light. The vendor grabs his neck, which he feels is tightening quickly. He falls to his knees as his search for air fails. Olivia kneels beside him, her voice cruel. "Where is Varah, pathetic Earthling?"

Within moments, Menace exits the Portal led by his scepter. He wanders over to Olivia and asks, "Where exactly are we?"

"I think the Earthlings call it Central Park. We must find Varah."

Menace brings his hood forward over his scarred head; he is ready for whatever is to come. "She can't escape us now."

Olivia walks over to Menace, standing face-to-face with him. "I've waited a lifetime to get my hands on the Vondercrat, and not even Varah can keep me from claiming it."

Menace lifts his head, the veins in his face pulsating. "I have a feeling about where she might be."

Olivia reaches out to caress Menace's shoulder. "Another spy?"

He ignores her assumption, and gets a tighter grip on his scepter. "Stay close." A black cloud forms around his body. He disappears, leaving Olivia behind.

She crosses her arms, a suspicious look on her face. "What are you hiding, Joriyah?" She quickly morphs into a ball of fire and bolts away.

A woman in a pair of black heels struts down an elegantly carpeted hallway. The rug is a bright, red color, and chandeliers hang down from finely carved ceiling panels. The hallway is immaculate, and fixtures are perfectly arranged. The woman sneaks behind a large pillar as she waits for a man in a dark suit to pass. She maneuvers around the pillar so as not to be seen, even though the thought of being caught excites her. The man turns the corner and she deftly makes her move to the office door. She peeks inside. A receptionist sits at the desk. Waiting for the right moment, the woman tries to calm her madly beating heart. The receptionist turns to answer a phone behind her, and the woman quickly darts past her to enter another office. She wanders over to a large desk that sits in the center of the office, its back to a large, picture window. She lifts up a few papers to glance at them. They read: TOP SECRET FOR PRESIDENT DUKE. She places them carefully back on the desk before walking over to a velvet sofa and making herself comfortable. She seductively crosses her legs as she pulls a tube of lipstick from her bra and touches up her lips. She hears a deep, authoritative voice in the distance and hurries to hide behind the main door.

President Duke backs into the room as he gives his receptionist some instructions. "Thanks, Von. Please let me know when he's close."

The President closes the door and the woman grabs him from behind, madly kissing him. Her lips are soft and her caress is warm. The President gives in to her advances, allowing a momentary, lustful intoxication. Finally, their lips part and they stand with their arms around each other, gazing into each other's eyes. The woman speaks, her voice soft and enticing. "Hello, Mr. President"

The President moves his hand down to the arch in her back and presses her body closer to his.

"You think she'll ever find out?" the woman whispers seductively.

President Duke pins her to the door, slowly moving her hair aside from her neck, and kisses her. His soft pecks lead him from her neck to her ear, where he whispers, "Only if you tell her."

A knock at the door startles them both. "Mr. President?"

"Just a moment." The President adjusts his tie and wipes any evidence from his lips as the woman jumps again behind the door. He opens it. "Yes, Von?"

Von authoritatively steps into the Oval Office. "Solomon and Phillips are on their way." President Duke smiles, knowing he is moments from being caught. "And your dinner with the first lady is at eight sharp at Marcelo's." Von walks out the door, yelling as she goes, "Eight sharp! Is that correct, First Lady?"

The woman speaks her answer from behind the door, "Yes, Von, that's correct."

She turns to President Duke. "How does she always know?"

President Duke shrugs his shoulders then pats the First Lady on the behind. "There's more where that came from."

She beams. "You promise?"

President Duke whispers, "I promise." The first lady, blushing, exits the Oval Office, her eyes focused on the perfect carpet.

Von continues typing without looking up. She whispers under her breath, "Get it, girl."

President Duke softly closes the door. He lifts the folder marked TOP SECRET from the desk and takes a seat on the sofa. He reads over the classified documents until a knock at the door breaks his concentration. "Come in." The door opens. Donny, Solomon and Phillips enter the office, closing the door behind them. Solomon removes his suit jacket and finds a home for it on a nearby chair. The three men sit on the second couch opposite President Duke. Their worried faces foreshadow their grave story.

Phillips reluctantly speaks first, sweat streaming down the sides of his face. "Mr. President, I haven't been honest with you."

President Duke closes his folder and places it on the table between them. He's all ears. "About?"

Solomon jumps at the chance to intervene. "National security, Sir. It's been breached."

President Duke leans in. "Terrorists? When? Why am I just now hearing about this?"

Donny motions with his hand for Phillips to speak. "The breach happened before your first term, and it happened again a few days ago."

President Duke shifts in his seat, his expression incredulous. "Who was it? Al Qaeda? North Korea?"

Phillips takes a deep breath as he unbuttons his suit jacket. Donny removes his earpiece before he walks over to the window and draws the curtains. He sits back down, breathing deeply as he braces himself with his arms pressing down on his legs. "Volonians."

The room is silent as the three men give the President a moment to bite on what he's just heard. The President chuckles and then asks, "What the heck is a Volonian?" Phillips rises and walks over to a picture on the wall, his eyes following its colorful outline, hoping to get lost in the painting. "Phillips, am I missing something?"

Phillips looks away from the painting, his eyes bloodshot as he turns toward the President. "They're more powerful than all of the combined militaries on the planet."

The President rises from the sofa, a bit of confused calm, mingled with surprised anger creeping into his voice. "We don't make deals with terrorists, Mr. Director."

"Mr. President, I don't think you understand."

President Duke is furious. He inhales sharply, his hands balled up and positioned angrily at his hips. "You knew about this? Are you crazy? This can cost me a second term."

Phillips is speechless, his head lowered. His eyes search the painting again, and a strange calm suddenly overtakes him. "This is bigger than a second term, Mr. President."

President Duke rubs his hand across his brow, taking some deep breaths to calm himself. He turns away, his eyes locked on the folder he'd put on the coffee table. "How big?" he asks.

Phillips lifts his head, his tone convincing. "Catastrophic." President Duke flings the folder to the floor, his eyes angrily searching the room for an answer and finally stopping to stare at a portrait of Abraham Lincoln hanging on the wall.

**Chapter 17**

_The Battle for Power_

It's sunny and bright on this mid-afternoon as a large crowd gathers outside a fence on a quiet street just off the city's main thoroughfare. Tourists snap pictures of one of Washington D.C.'s most prized monuments: The White House. A little boy playfully climbs the metal fence separating the outside world from the inner sanctum of the president's home. The boy's mother scolds him and pulls him down to the ground. A yellow cab comes to an abrupt stop in front of the crowd. Varah, Broc and Shenzara pour themselves out of the confinements of the New York City cab. Exhausted, they stretch their cramped limbs and yawn loudly as they step onto the sidewalk. Several people are blocking their view, so they stand on their tiptoes, hoping to sneak a peek at the White House. Broc is disappointed. "It looks smaller than I anticipated."

Varah points to the driveway entrance. Her eyes are focused. She's on a mission. She pauses for a moment, distracted by something. "But... we should change. We want to look our best for their Lords."

You mean president," Broc corrects her.

"VY CACH VOOLIAN." Suddenly Varah dons a flowing, gold gown. Her petite body wears it well. Her back is exposed for the world to see, and her hair hangs down tantalizingly. She's sexy and she owns it. Several layers of jewelry adorn her neck, and gold earrings dangle as the finishing touch. Varah lifts her hand. A mirror appears, allowing her to admire her beauty. She notices the twins' reflection in the mirror, and their faces are not pleased.

Broc glances down at his New York fur. "What about us?"

Varah smiles and struts over to Broc. "I could never forget about my darlings. VY CACH VOOLIAN." Her hands lift slightly, and shimmers of magic sprinkle Broc and Shenzara from head to toe.

Broc wears a gold robe that fits his boyish frame perfectly. "Awesome!" A similar gold gown drapes flatteringly on Shenzara, but it hangs to the ground, making it difficult for her to walk. Her hair is done up in curls, and a golden butterfly barrette holds her gold streak in place. Shenzara expects the worst as she holds out her hand for the mirror, which Varah politely hands her. But instead of her usual smirk, Shenzara beams proudly. She strikes a pose as Broc looks on, applauding. "And she's back."

"Don't give me grief just because I'm gorgeous."

"Zara, we look the same; we're twins. Remember?"

Varah snatches the mirror from Shenzara's hand. "Can we please go now?"

Varah strolls over to the security checkpoint. The children wait to the side near three unfriendly Secret Service Men. The men can't help but notice Varah, being that she is the only tourist wearing an evening gown. Nevertheless, their faces are transfixed by her beauty. They can't take their eyes off her.

Serviceman Jose approaches first, his eyes struggling unsuccessfully not to wander down from her striking gold streak to her striking cleavage. "Ma'am. How may I help you?"

Varah confidently extends her hand. "I am here to see the president."

Jose turns momentarily to his colleagues, his expression blank. He turns back to Varah. "What is the nature of your appointment, ma'am?"

Broc interjects. "We need to get back to Volonia."

Jose seems to be thrown off a bit. Serviceman Hart, who hails from the South, steps up. His accent is a slow, thick drawl, but he is tougher than his partner. "Ma'am, if you don't have an invitation or an appointment, we are going to have to ask you to leave." Hart points to the street, his face cold and his attitude unyielding.

Varah boldly steps closer to Hart, his personal space violated. He inhales her natural scent then shakes off the intoxicating smell. He shifts his weight to one side before taking a step back. "I am Varah Cutter of Volonia, and I demand to speak to your president." She abruptly lifts her hands. Hart instinctively reaches into his jacket for his gun. He fires, but Varah disappears; her reflexes are too quick.

"Where'd she go?" All the Servicemen remove guns from their holsters. They point their weapons at Broc and Shenzara.

"Get on the ground!"

Jose panics. "Officers! Stand down!"

Hart ignores his request. "What are you, crazy, Jose? Let me see your hands!"

Varah reappears and grabs Broc and Shenzara by their arms. "VY LIYA VCO." They disappear, leaving a puff of white smoke behind.

They reappear on the White House Lawn. The trio races across the grass, Varah's heels sinking into the soft turf. She quickly abandons them to pick up speed. Hart charges after them. He drops to one knee then lifts his gun, takes aim and fires. An electrical wire glides through the air, landing in the center of Varah's back and sending an electrical charge through her body. Her knees buckle. She collapses to the ground. Shenzara dives for her hand. "Mom!"

Varah musters a faint reply. "Run! Run! I'll catch up. Hurry!"

Broc and Shenzara are torn. They notice the Servicemen coming and say, "We're not leaving you."

Varah points. "Find the president. I'll be okay."

The kids quickly clutch hands and dash across the White House Lawn before leaping surprisingly high above the White House. Something uncontrollable is happening. A glow forms around them as they fly effortlessly through the air and then land explosively on the roof. They stand there in silence- safe but stunned- on the roof of the home of The President of the United States. They look down to see their footprints are permanently impressed in the roof, and the power of their landing has split a crack right down the middle of the roof. A cloud of dust rises from the surface. Shenzara waves away the dust as she takes in the moment. The twins look at each other. Their pupils are strangely dilated. Their usual hazel eye color flickers brightly between green and red before settling back again into its natural shade. Broc catches his breath and slowly takes a step back. He examines the damage they have done to the roof. "What was that?" He looks to Shenzara and sees that she is just as confused and quiet as he is. He looks out across the White House Lawn to see Varah glance up. She can't believe what she sees, either.

She whispers to herself, "How did they do that?" The Servicemen now surround her with their guns drawn.

Broc yells from the roof, "Mom!"

Varah rises defiantly to her feet and feels her strength renewing. She removes the wire from her back and senses it repel itself back into Hart's gun. With no other place to go, she glances around. The severe countenances of the servicemen glare back at her. The men are disciplined but trigger-happy. She wipes dirt from her dress before lowering her head. She lifts her hands to surrender as she whispers under her breath, "VY VCO ROFOLA" and disappears in a cloud of smoke. The servicemen fire at the space where she stood, but she's gone.

Broc and Shenzara, who are watching all this from above, start to panic. "Where is she?"

In the next moment Varah reappears behind the kids and says, "Let's go."

"Mom! Don't do that!"

Varah is not about to get sidetracked by complaints. She looks directly at her children and says, "Move, now." She lifts her hand and a door leading from the roof magically rips from its hinges. The three enter the stairwell. A deafening sound in the distance catches Shenzara's attention. She peers out into the naked sky to find what made the noise. Slowly, a cloud of dark smoke surrounds the sun. It somehow gives her an eerie feeling: something's coming. Shenzara rushes down the stairwell after Varah and Broc.

Varah peeks through an open door and finds that she looks out into the entrance hall of the White House. A woman walks swiftly in their direction. Varah and the kids exit the stairwell nonchalantly, hoping to go unnoticed. "Excuse me," Varah asks her, "Where is the president?" as casually as if asking her the time.

The woman, distracted by their un-chaperoned presence here, absent-mindedly points down the hall. "Are you with the media or the White House tour?"

Broc quickly shouts out, "Tour!"

But Shenzara shouts, "Media!"

The woman isn't buying their story, and she radios for assistance. "Wait here please."

Varah rolls her eyes; she just doesn't have time to deal with these petty delays. She lifts her hand and the woman finds herself dangling a few feet from the floor and unable to do anything about it. Varah and the kids glide into the blue room, allowing the woman to fall to the floor as the door closes and locks behind them. "Let's go."

Serviceman Hart knocks urgently on the Oval Office door; Solomon opens it. "There's been a breach in the White House. Come with me, Sir." President Duke grabs his suit jacket and follows obediently.

Phillips rises from the sofa, panicked. "It's them! We've got to get you out of here, Mr. President!"

But it is too late. The door crashes open. It's Varah, her hands raised defenselessly to the sky. She surrenders. "We just want to talk," she says to the men, unsure which one is the President. The servicemen draw their guns as Phillips cowardly ducks behind Solomon. Varah holds her empty hands out in front of her as she cautiously and carefully steps into the room; Broc and Shenzara follow closely behind her, also showing that they have no weapons. "We just desire a few moments of your time."

President Duke motions to the servicemen to lower their guns. "Stand down, gentlemen." Solomon maintains his firing position. He refuses to back down. President Duke walks over to Solomon, never taking his eyes off of Varah. Carefully, he takes Solomon's gun and gently places it on a table. The President then walks over to Varah. "You have my full attention, ma'am."

Varah kneels to the President, as do Broc and then Shenzara. "Mr. President, we are from the planet Volonia. We were exiled here a day ago, and we need your help to return home."

The President leans forward, squinting. "Volonia?"

"Yes. It's our home planet, 30 light cycles away." Solomon eyes his gun on the table and seriously considers diving for it.

He shouts, "We don't negotiate with terrorists!"

President Duke points a reprimanding finger at Solomon. "Enough, Solomon!" The President clears his throat and lowers his voice. He regains his negotiating tone. "Are you here to harm us?"

Varah opens her hands to show him again they are empty. She lowers her head submissively and says, "No. Volonians are peaceful, loving and constructive."

Suddenly, the relative calm is shattered by a large ball of fire crashing into the Oval office. The explosion shakes the entire White House. Debris flies and a few fires ignite in different parts of the building. The hole is massive, and a grey smoke fills the room. Several people run for their lives as chaos ensues.

The President is pinned under his desk. Donny and Solomon are piled on top of each other in a corner, seriously injured. Phillips' body lies lifeless near the door. Varah, Broc and Shenzara, huddled in a corner, cover themselves with what used to be a set of drapes. Varah manages to lift her head. She stares into the new, massive hole in the wall. The once beautiful Oval office is demolished, with furniture scattered about the place. Smoke and particles of dust fill the air, making it hard to breathe. A beam of light shines through the hole in the wall. In it a silhouette glides closer. A woman's stiletto shoe steps over a pile of debris. Her heel digs into a portrait of Abraham Lincoln that has fallen to the floor.

"Oh, Varah. Desperation at its best. You wear it well, Visch!" Olivia kneels down and grips Varah by the neck, lifting her as she stands to her full, spiked-heels height. Varah's legs dangle uselessly. Olivia throws her clear across the room. She lands near President Duke.

"Loving and Peaceful, huh?" he whispers to her.

Varah finds her breath and slowly stands. Broc and Shenzara get on their feet, but they cower in a corner. Shenzara begs, "Olivia, don't do this."

Olivia glances over at the twins, dismissing them with a toss of her wicked, elegant mane. "This isn't about you, little ones; it's just old friends getting reacquainted."

A loud bang at the door draws Olivia's attention. "Open the door or we shoot!" Olivia chuckles. "Earthlings." She lifts her hand, and magically the door crashes into the servicemen behind it, their bodies landing in a mangled pile in the hallway. "Now, back to business. I'm going to ask you nicely, dear, and I expect an equally nice answer in return. How did you conjure the Vondercrat?"

Varah backs away, clenching her fist. She's ready for battle, but then, the kids' bracelets suddenly start glowing. Varah senses something in the room is different... better...stronger. Her stance becomes more powerful and alert. Her streak glows brighter. A new, soft gold light forms around her body. Taking a deep, focusing breath, Varah takes a step toward Olivia and slaps her boldly across the face. She feels a newer, greater power; her intensity is prominently on display. Reeling from the slap of her life, Olivia flies several feet backward and collides into a light fixture on a far wall. Her limp body slides down to the floor, but Olivia quickly rises. She shakes it off and wipes dust from her hands. "Darn, broke a nail. You're a Class Six, sweetie. You're no match for me."

Both witches levitate high in the middle of the room. It's a face-off: their powers illuminate from their bodies and their hair rises on top of their heads. They inhale deeper and quicker as the fight grows in ferocity. The two women cause a rumbling sound to shake the room from above, and the servicemen can only stare in awe as they watch from below. They stand down for the moment. Both witches shoot magical beams from their palms; their powers collide. It's a magical battle of wills. They rotate around, each hoping to gain a strong hold. Varah gains a slight edge, but Olivia pushes back. President Duke shields his eyes from the blinding power of their laser-like beams. Varah soon takes the advantage. Her streak stands high and bright. Her eyes glow. Fire shoots from her body as power embodies her entire existence and bolts of light are sent flying in Olivia's direction. The power impacts Olivia like a freight train. She crashes into a hanging chandelier, her velocity so strong that she rips it from the ceiling and crashes along with it to the ground. The chandelier buries and bruises her. But she is not down. Instead, her determination is doubled. She stares up at Varah with blood seeping from the edge of her mouth. "VY COLO VY." Suddenly, Olivia appears in midair behind Varah. Her hand morphs into a snake and viciously strangles Varah from behind. Varah struggles, but she is no match for this spell. She feels her powers slowly fading. Her life is slipping away. Olivia arches into a lift, violently forcing Varah upward. Their bodies explode into the ceiling, and they free fall to the floor. As soon as they can get their bearings, the women half-skid and half-fly backwards in opposite directions. Both women need to pause to tend to their wounds. Olivia lies a few feet away from Varah, panting, pain in her eyes. She nurses her shoulder. She pulls her hair away from her face; then, with her bare hands and gritting her teeth, she snaps her shoulder back into place.

Broc looks away as he hears her bones pop. Shenzara covers her eyes. "We've got to do something!"

Broc holds Shenzara and tries to comfort her. "She's too powerful."

Olivia grips her leg as she limps over to Varah. Her pain is excruciating as she bends down. Olivia examines Varah's bruised but still beautiful face, and envy sets in. "You think you have it all, don't you?" Olivia grips Varah's gold streak violently, ripping a handful of it from her head. A sadistic glaze falls over her eyes as she puts the streak to her nose. Her eyes close as she inhales. "The smell of power. Intoxicating."

Suddenly, a cloud of gray smoke appears above and descends into the demolished room. The smoke lowers to where the women are and forms a barrier around Olivia's body, rendering her unable to move. She glances around nervously. "Joriyah, don't do this!" Olivia's body slowly levitates then flies through an office window, crashing onto the White House Lawn. Her body lands with a lifeless thud. Inside, the cloud of gray smoke rises powerfully in the center of the room, creating a loud crash as the ceiling is forced open as easily as a tin can. A cloud of black smoke morphs into Menace. He towers high above the office and casually tosses the top of the Oval office into the middle of the Lawn. He floats above the chaos and destruction overlooking Varah's prone body. Varah glances up, but she can't make out what she sees. Menace descends with his arms wide open and his power surging.

Broc comes to his senses and asks, "Who is that?"

Menace lands solidly in the center of the room and steps over broken tables and tumbled chairs on his way to confront Varah. What he wants is only a few inches away. He reaches down and lifts her by her hair. Her legs dangle; her strength is gone. Menace stares into her face. His eyes are cold and his emotions are firmly in check.

Broc runs forward, hoping to save his mother. Menace doesn't take his eyes off of Varah's face, but his senses kick in. His eyes shift slightly. Suddenly a pair of Vicklor devices appears behind him. They boomerang towards Broc and Shenzara and land squarely on their necks. Despite their efforts to free themselves, the devices suspend the children high above the floor. Menace looks into Varah's face. His piercing gray eyes and his scarred white visage are a horror to behold. His blood boils as he rages for his one desire. The power is within his reach. He clutches his scepter.

Varah, aching, manages to scrambles free from his hypnotic gaze. "What do you want with me?"

Menace smiles. "Who said it was about you?"

Varah understands. She breathes faster. Her heartbeat quickens. She looks up at her twins. She now knows what he's after. "Them?"

"I assumed you were smarter than that. You've had the power of the Vondercrat all along and didn't even know it." He squats down in front of her and looks closer at her, examining her for something he wants to find. He nods, and then, seizing the moment of opportunity, he places his palms on each side of Varah's head and squeezes. He squeezes so tightly that she can only release terrifying screams. Broc and Shenzara add to her screams from above.

The President looks on, his disgust mixed with horror. "No!"

Menace slowly opens his mouth into an "O". A faint trail of black smoke escapes and wraps itself, snakelike, around Varah's body. Then, seeming to squeeze any remaining life out of her, it wraps around to aim itself at her mouth. It slowly glides inside, filling her with poison. Her body shakes. Her eyes suddenly lose their shine and fade from hazel to a flat, dull black. Her hands collapse to her side. Her gold streak slowly fades to black. Menace releases her and she falls to the floor. Her magic visibly drains from her body. She struggles to breathe- gasping for air. At this moment she sees Broc and Shenzara dangling helplessly in the distance. A feeble smile tries to form on her weakened face. For just one moment, she is at peace. Then, she abruptly drifts away- dead.

Outside on the lawn, Olivia senses a lull in the madness and manages to crawl, slowly and painfully, into what's left of the Oval Office. She drags her injured leg behind her and has a hard time focusing her eyes. But gradually, she comes to believe what she sees. An old friend is gone forever. Olivia lowers her head in defeat. "Are you crazy?" She hisses at Menace. "We'll never have the power now."

Menace turns to Broc and Shenzara and lifts his scepter. The kids descend to the floor, and rush over to Varah. They grab at her, shaking her, calling out to her, but it's too late. She's departed. Tears stream down their heartbroken faces. Shenzara wails at the top of her lungs, her repeated attempts failing to wake Varah.

Broc cradles his mother, caresses her. His hope fades as each lifeless moment goes by. Finally, he lets out a low, sobbing moan. "VIE VIE VY VAMORE!"

Unconcerned, Menace lifts his scepter and points it at their bracelets. "VYC VY CONOA." The bracelets spin on the twins' wrists and then detach themselves and glide toward him. His grin spreads as they float closer to him. The power is within his reach. The bracelets glow brightly, their force miraculous to behold. The room vibrates and the ground shakes. Within moments, an avalanche of force pulls Menace away from the bracelets "What's happening?!" He reaches out his hands, hoping to reach the floating bracelets as the powerful force drags him backwards. His jaw clenches tightly as heavy winds force him further away from his intended treasure. His robe rips from his body, and his scepter releases from his grip. His body collides violently with one of the few remaining walls. The bracelets repel his grasp and reattach themselves to Broc and Shenzara's wrists.

Broc and Shenzara rise to their feet as they feel the power flowing from their bracelets. Their neck devices disintegrate and they purposefully lift themselves to just a few feet above the floor. They look down powerfully upon Menace, who cowers behind a tipped sofa. Their stares are intense. A new power has taken over. The twins lift their palms toward Menace and release a new, golden beam, a force that throws Menace through the wall. He bursts out onto the Lawn and lands hard. He scrambles to his feet, worried about what course he should now take. "They're more powerful than I thought," he says to himself, amazed.

With rage in his eyes, Broc leaps through the open ceiling of the Oval Office, landing on Menace and forcing him back to the ground. His young eyes take on a strong glow, and the gold color from his streak spreads to cover all his hair. His crown is a vibrant gold, and his newfound power radiates from his body.

Shenzara, looking within to find her own new power, morphs into a ball of fire. She bolts though the Oval Office wall, the explosion massive, and she bowls Menace to the ground. She morphs back and grabs his neck, watching his pale skin turn to a choking red. He is at the mercy of her boundless power. Her eyes shine a bright red, and her hair flies in a frenzy. She is possessed. Any former girlish weakness is gone, and she sends Menace hurtling several yards away and watches him as he lands sprawled out in the Rose Garden. A noise above distracts her moment of gloating. Military helicopters hover above, aiming their weapons at the twins. Broc pulls his hands together then points his fists in their direction. His power destroys them unmercifully. Meanwhile, a full SWAT team sneaks up the edge of the sidewalk leading to the White House Lawn. They open fire. Shenzara creates a force field around herself and her brother, repelling the bullets. The twins levitate high above the White House, blasting power down on anything and everything that moves.

President Duke stands motionless, looking down on Varah's lifeless beauty. He looks blankly around his office at the carnage. Buildings are destroyed. Fires are burning. Tankers explode, and total mayhem takes over. No one is letting up. Menace secretly retreats behind a burning military tanker. He catches a glimpse of the devastation and smirks unremorsefully. The twins rotate in the dark night sky, their power beaming across the city. They are in a power-fed trance that can't be broken by any force in the universe.

Suddenly a new portal opens above the scene. Lord Roman exits and descends, a protective electrical force field taking shape around his body. He is incredulous at what he sees. He magically shifts his force field toward Broc and Shenzara, enveloping them inside it. Lord Roman attempts to make amends, but their focus is elsewhere. His shouts of supplication are ignored. "Broc! Shenzara! Hear me!! Lord Roman guides the force field to the White House lawn.

Broc blasts power frantically from his palms at the walls of the force field. He is possessed; he wants out. He punches madly at the invisible wall. When he shouts, his voice is unfamiliar- deeper. "Let me out!" Shenzara's attempts at lifting the force field also fail. It contains her, leaving her panting on its floor. The twins yell at the top of their lungs, their hearts hurting, their emotions raging, and all attempts at escaping failing them.

Lord Roman lowers his voice. He is somber now. His chin falls to his chest, and he weakly calls out, "Broc, Shenzara, it's me." His voice echoes on the wall's surface as Shenzara descends to the ground. The glow in her eyes fades away. She blinks, forcing the red from her eyes to give way to hazel. She recognizes his voice. The power glowing around their bodies vanishes, and the children slowly return to themselves. Broc falls to his knees. His cries are muted by the force field.

Shenzara covers her face. Her legs are too weak to hold her, and she collapses. "She's departed. She's departed. VY VAMORE." Lord Roman walks cautiously over to his children. He tries to comfort them. For the first time in their lives, they feel the tangible touch of his love. Their emotions are spinning around--mixed. They give in. Lord Roman peers up at the spinning portal. He wraps his arms around his children, closes his eyes, and they disappear together.

Raging fires light up the skyline of Washington D.C. like the 4th of July. With the world spinning out of control around him, The President stands motionless over Varah's body. He kneels down to get a closer look. Then, just as he reaches out to touch her hair, she disappears. Olivia gazes out on the burning city. For the first time in ages she's at a loss for words. She disappears. Menace creeps from behind a burning tree holding a piece of Varah's hair: a memento of his dubious victory. He rubs it against his face and disappears. Molly helps Phillips to his feet as Jose and Hart stumble into the room. President Duke silently takes in the devastation. He looks around the room when suddenly Molly disappears. "Where did she go?" A voice comes from a broken radio transmitter underneath an overturned sofa. "Mayday, Mr. President. Can you hear us? Mr. President, are you safe?" President Duke stands stunned. He is in a trance. His face is bloodied, and his office is reduced to rubble. His eyes are fixed on a burning piece of paper that floats nearby. He grabs it. At the bottom it reads, "In God We Trust." He turns to stare up into the dark, empty sky, searching for an answer.

**Chapter 18**

_The Departing_

The city of Volonia is shrouded in gloom; the once-bright sky is shadowed by sorrow. Dark, somber pillars with dimly lit lanterns line the streets along the path to the House of Lords, where the Volonian crest sways in the early morning breeze. The streets are yet empty as citizens of Volonia stay home to observe this day of mourning and to prepare for the Departing Ceremony. They are shaken and saddened by the violent death of a Lord's ex-veil. They wander around their homes and neighborhoods to meditate on the loss of a life so precious. Some congregate in their efforts to seek an explanation. Others simply make peace with it and sit quietly. The vendors pay respect by closing up their shops, and, as tradition has it, the House of Lords restricts all magical powers for the day. Even Drifters take a day off from their conniving acts. They sit on doorstops and mutter, dazed. Children gather behind the closed shops to tell stories of the legendary battle and the possibilities of what might have happened should it have played out differently. In Volonia, it is practice that all exiled Volonians be allowed to return home for the duration of the Departing Ceremony. They are allowed a sort of day pass to partake in the ritual of sending a departed Volonian back to the womb of their society: The Isle of Waterfalls.

On this morning all is calm outside Lord Roman's castle. The water in the moat flows peacefully. Inside the house it is quiet as well, but there is an overtone of melancholy that echoes sadly down the corridors. Slow-paced footsteps are heard in the distance making heavy-hearted but steady progress down a hallway. These sad, slow steps are those of Lord Roman. He carries a tray holding a few selections of food as he approaches a set of gold, double doors. He reaches out to turn the knob, but then pauses. His thoughts carry him elsewhere, and his eyes search for the right words to say. He has no idea. There _are_ no words for what has occurred, so he just turns the knob and opens the door. Inside, the room and its inhabitants are quiet, and the sound of his entrance on the wood floor breaks the stillness. He sees Broc at one end of the room, legs folded and eyes closed. He floats on a Vaconile, a magical meditation pillow that suspends him softly only a few feet above his byan. Shenzara sits at the opposite end of the room with a blank stare on her face. She hasn't moved for hours.

Lord Roman places the tray of food on a table near the door and walks over to his son. "Broc?" he says softly, but he doesn't respond. He is with his thoughts in a place far away. Lord Roman waves a hand, causing Broc to descend softly to his byan. His eyes slowly open. They are bloodshot and he is noticeably annoyed. Lord Roman stands awkwardly; suddenly it seems he does not know what to do with the tray he has brought in.

"Hey," Roman says, intending to initiate some conversation. Broc nonchalantly turns away just as his father says, "Can we talk for a moment?" The boy rises from the byan and walks over to the centerpiece of the room, a large panoramic window. There is a clear view of the moat, its slow-flowing water mesmerizing him, comforting him with the depth of its near-stillness. Lord Roman places his hand on Broc's shoulder, attempting a gesture of comfort but only succeeding in making his son uncomfortable. Broc moves away. "Son, we have to talk about what happened."

Across the room, Shenzara silently lifts her weary limbs from the byan. She wanders over to the window where Broc stands. They are united in their unspeakable grief. She stares blankly out into the softly blue morning sky, then into the moat, and then breaks her silence. "Mom always said you'd come back." Her voice cracks, but she does her best to stay composed. "Didn't think it would take this to make it happen, though."

Lord Roman's shoulders fall; his robe sags over his slouching frame. "I'm sorry. I truly am. You've got to believe me." He attempts to move closer to Broc.

Broc turns, now looking straight through Lord Roman. Nothing matters to him anymore. "And if we don't? What are you going to do? Banish us to another planet?" Broc turns his back again to Lord Roman and resumes his pose of solidarity with his sister.

"I want you both to live here. For good."

Shenzara inhales and seems to come back to life. She folds her arms, stands firm, and responds with defiance flashing in her eye. She shouts, "Not a chance!"

"You two will be better off here..."

"Are you kidding me?" Shenzara replies.

Lord Roman steps closer to her, hoping to calm his daughter. "Shenzara, what are you talking about?"

Shenzara points to the door. "She's gone, Roman. Or shall I say 'Lord'?"

Lord Roman tries reasoning with her like a true politician, hoping to regain her vote of confidence. "We've got to move forward...think about it."

"Get out!" Shenzara screams.

Lord Roman turns, defeated. He walks away, then turns back again to attempt a different approach. "One more thing." Broc has had enough. He steps in front of Shenzara, but Lord Roman cautiously holds his position. He asks, "Who taught you to use powers like that?"

Broc can't believe it. His blood is boiling. "Why don't you ask Mom?" Lord Roman accepts his frustration and retreats, quietly exiting the room.

Silent tears stream down Shenzara's face. Broc grabs her hand; his comfort settles her. A knock at the door reawakens Shenzara's pain. "Stay away from us!" she screams.

The door slowly creeps open. It's Viscera. He peeks his head inside before entering cautiously. "Why the tone, Shenzara? It's only me."

Recognizing Viscera's voice, she releases her anger with a pent-up exhale. She turns to confirm his familiar face. "Viscera!" Viscera smiles cautiously, unsure of the cause of this mixed greeting. Still, he's obviously happy to see the twins.

"I knew Earth couldn't hold the Cutters. I figured the House would overturn their decision sooner rather than later." Broc and Shenzara run over to him and embrace him tightly. Their raw emotions catch him off guard. "Hey, twins, it's only me."

Lord Roman watches from the hall, his heart sinking as his twins shower Viscera with love and affection. Viscera kneels to wipe tears from Shenzara's face. "What's the matter?" He glances nervously around the room. "Where's your mom?"

Broc's eyes wander to the floor as he fights back tears. "They didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what? What's going on?" Shenzara's tears flow more freely down her face. Her sobs cause her to shudder, and she struggles to catch her breath. Viscera forces her to sit. "Shenzara... Broc... What happened?"

Broc sits next to his sister, their faces identical in their sadness. Viscera can't help but feel his face is also mirroring their pain. He listens incredulously to Broc's every word. "Mom's gone. Departed."

Viscera stands abruptly. "That's not funny, Broc. Broc...? Shenzara...? Please tell me the truth!" They sob, their hearts stricken with sadness, their eyes wilting with tears. The truth does start sinking in, however. Viscera takes a few steps back, holding his hand to his mouth, shocked. He takes deep, slow breaths, trying to absorb the news.

Shenzara buries her face in her hands. "She's gone, Viscera. I just can't go on without her." Viscera is speechless. His emotions don't know this depth of hurt. He tries his best to comfort the twins as they hold him tightly.

Lord Roman sits nearby in a den. The curtains are drawn and he leans back, gazing up at the ceiling. He takes a sip from a glass. Lordess Raven enters the room carrying a tray. She quietly sets it down next to him but never looks in his direction. "It's kind of early for a drink, don't you think?" Lord Roman ignores the jab as Lordess Raven pours a cup of tea. She offers it to Lord Roman, but he's far away in a zone she does not know. She attempts to pull him out. "How are the children?"

Lord Roman takes another sip from his glass, savoring the bitterness on his tongue. "Not good."

Lordess Raven replaces the cup to the tray and moves to dig deeper for answers. "There is something the Guardians aren't telling us."

Lord Roman turns to Lordess Raven. "We all have our secrets, Lordess. Sometimes keeping things unknown is best." Lordess Raven notices that the conversation is going nowhere, and she moves to exit the room. Lord Roman gets up and follows after her. "Look, I'm sorry."

They walk down a wide hallway together, but she doesn't want to hear anymore. She changes the topic. "From what we understand, no warlock or witch could conjure powers of that nature. Roman, how did the twins do it?"

Lord Roman's voice tightens as anger seeps into his explanation. "I don't know, Raven. The Guardians seem to have their own agenda, and our decisions have cost us a life. I think we should leave this one alone."

Lordess Raven speaks with conviction, her emotions clearly exposed. "I've lost a friend, Roman. You aren't the only one who's hurting." She turns, fed up with his emotional incompetence, and walks away.

Lord Roman sighs. He turns into an entryway that leads to the serving chambers. Olivia is there. She stands and boils water for tea. "Roman." Lord Roman stares at her, then thinks twice, then turns to leave. Olivia calls him back. She seems reserved now, but he is not. His feet are planted firmly at the threshold with his back turned to her. He listens only as much as necessary. "Roman, I am sorry for your loss." He proceeds silently down the hall. Olivia lifts her train and chases after him. "Roman, stop at once."

He hesitates to gird his emotional loins before turning back. "What do you want, Olivia? The damage is done."

"She was my friend too, Roman."

"Well how did you get to Earth, Darling?" He shakes his head; the sarcasm in his tone surprises even him.

She rises to the challenge in this banter. It excites her.

"It looks like someone grew a pair..."

Roman lets go, his full regalia of Lordship unleashes at her. "My children are down the hall, and the person that helped seal their mother's fate sleeps two doors down."

"Allegedly helped," she corrects. Olivia saunters over to Lord Roman, but her attempts to caress his chest are rebuffed, and he forces her hand away.

"Not this time, Olivia."

Olivia doesn't wear rejection well, though, and surprisingly she steps away. Her true colors finally show as she slaps him full across the face. She follows with a motion to lift her hands, hoping to summon her powers, but remembers that they are restricted on this day. "This has all to do with the Guardians, doesn't it? What are they hiding, Roman?"

Disgusted by her advance, he shoves her away. "I've had enough."

"Are you saying you want another ex-veil?" She waits for an answer, uneasy about what his answer would actually be. Lord Roman's frustration carries him away. His focus is elsewhere. Olivia screams after him, "You didn't build this kingdom alone, Roman!" He continues down the hall, never looking back. Olivia yells louder, her attacks intimidate most, but her tirades have lost their effect on Lord Roman, and he continues his stroll. "You know what they say! Beside every powerful man..." She smirks to his back and whispers to it to herself: "...is a more powerful Witch!" She turns on her spiked heel to carry on as before, catching a glimpse of Broc and Shenzara down the hallway. They stare distantly at her. Revenge is in their eyes, and Olivia welcomes the challenge. She blows a kiss to the twins.

Broc holds Shenzara steady as his sister attempts an advance on Olivia. "Shenzara, now is not the time or place for this! She will have her day. That I promise."

Lord Roman walks into the Lord's Chambers, where the mood is solemn. Elegant panoramic windows line the longest wall, where Vamo shines softly into the room. A cool wind blows outside, sweeping the airy curtains around in its gentle breeze. All the Lords are present with the exception of Lord Topher. Lordess Raven prepares a few bouquets to bring along for the Departing Ceremony. Locklids are her choice of flowers, purple with red stems: Varah's favorite.

Lordess Semelia walks over to Lord Roman. "I'm so sorry, Lord Roman. Had I known...?"

Lord Roman lifts his hand to reassure her. "Had any of us known what was to come, I'm sure most of us would have voted differently. No need to discuss the matter further."

Lord Topher walks through the doors, unsure of what to say. He nods at Lord Roman before taking his seat.

Lord Vondell glances up from his cup. "Nice of you to join us, Lord Topher." Lord Vondell moves his finger in a circular motion, stirring the liquid in his cup. "

Lord Topher ignores this childish remark.

Lordess Raven walks over to Roman. "Roman, would you like me to officiate? I know this situation is sensitive."

"I am fine, Lordess." And then, to everyone, "Lords! Let us commence preparations." The Lords meet in the center of the Chambers, all but Lord Vondell, who makes a show of not moving at all.

"Lord Vondell!" scolds Lordess Semelia.

"I'm coming, no need to be so hasty. I simply have a few questions that I'd like to have answered first, if you all don't mind." Lord Vondell looks up from his goblet and leans back in his chair, his legs crossed comfortably. "Roman, how is it that your children are capable of performing magical acts that not even we are capable of? Mischief surely lurks in that family of yours."

"This isn't the time or place. We have a Departing to conduct," interrupts Lordess Raven.

"I'm simply asking the questions that all of you are obviously too cowardly to ask."

"Cowardly, never! Respectful, always!" Lordess Semelia adds.

Lord Vondell ignores her scolding. "Lord Roman? Anything you would like to say?"

Lord Roman walks over to face Lord Vondell, who rises pompously from his chair. The other Lords are unaware of what to expect, and they look on cautiously. Lord Roman leans forward and whispers into Lord Vondell's ear. He keeps his emotions in check. "My children have lost their mother. With the next Validation Ceremony swiftly approaching, I would hope nothing happens to delay your own son being eligible to receive his streak."

Lord Vondell is noticeably disturbed. Taken aback, he whispers, "You wouldn't dare..."

"Try me," Lord Roman hisses back.

Lord Vondell reluctantly joins the others in the center of the room. The five Lords stand together, heads bowed to meditate on their roles. Lord Roman lifts his hand in the center toward the ceiling. A large golden flame flares out, and the other Lords follow suit, golden flames blazing from each of their raised hands. A large golden sphere of fire takes shape. It hovers high above their heads, its flames ripping outward from its core, the heat is dazzling.

"VAVENTI VON VEMPEASE FANVALLS. Take every Volonian to the Isle of Waterfalls." In harmony, the Lords repeat the spell, and immediately the raging ball of fire crystallizes and shatters into millions of smaller spheres, each one quickly floating from the ceiling and cascading out the opened windows of the chambers and through the morning sky, seeking out each and every Volonian throughout the realm of Volonia. A portal opens above the Lords, signaling them to levitate together and enter the portal simultaneously. They exit on the other side into the Isle of Waterfalls.

Just as it is every day on the Isle of Waterfalls, the warm, bright Vamo sparkles down on the electric blue Vovain. The Vulay's thundering roar is powerful, yet today it is somehow peaceful in its unending rhythmic crashing. Multitudes are gathering around this serene place; they wait patiently and watch vantars of various colors fly through the open, unending sky. The faces of the mourners are serene. For although the rumbling of the Vulay is deafening, even that sound is muffled on this day by the smothering sadness that everyone has brought with them to the Isle. More, small golden spheres descend. Their circular rotation causes the spheres to grow larger and larger, eventually forming portals. The portals settle just above the grass, and Volonians from all walks of life step out to the beauty of the Isle of Waterfalls. Every Volonian is dressed in a white robe, and each robe is embroidered with a golden "V" at the waist.

All eyes turn to the center of the Vovain, where Varah's body floats vertically above the water. Her eyes are closed and her jet-black hair stands tall and peaceful. The subtle wind blows through her dark waves where her streak is now gone. Her hands rest against her heart; her expression is one of peace. Her battle is over, and she is the most beautiful of victors. She wears a white and gold gown, its train spread out gracefully on the surface of the Vovain. The white represents her purity, her kindness, and her love. The gold signifies her power, her wisdom, and her streak. The gentle masses of Volonians gather silently around the waterfall. Some lift to their tiptoes to get a glimpse of Varah's body.

Lordess Raven takes one of the beautiful Locklids and places it at the edge of the water. A soft current guides the flower underneath Varah's body, where it stays. Lordess Raven distributes the rest of the red and purple flowers to women who were closest to Varah. Each woman bends down to the edge of the water and releases a blossom. The Locklids float together to form a bouquet, its colors bright and vibrant, and the bouquet itself floats into position surrounding the base of Varah's body.

Lordess Raven nods to the women as they fade back into the crowd. She notices Molly along the fringe and motions her forward. "Welcome home, Vycina."

Vycina bows in respect. "Thank you for your kind welcoming, Lordess. It's great to be called by my Volonian name again."

"I am only sorry the circumstances don't allow for a more gracious welcome."

"I'm just happy to be home, Lordess. Thank you." Vycina fades quietly back into the crowd."

The crowd parts calmly, allowing Broc and Shenzara to make their way toward the water. Tears stream down their faces, but their chins are held high. The twins reach the edge of the Vovain and sit on its bank. They look out at the beautiful flowers and at their beautiful mother. They hold hands and simply try to get through the moment. Lord Topher levitates a few inches above the Vovain and begins his soliloquy. His voice is amplified in the space between the towering falls. "Today we all gather to display our kinship for the beautiful Varah Cutter. She was a powerful Class Six witch, a mother, a friend and once veil to a House Lord. She was slain by the horrendous acts of a rogue force, but we remember her in love. Lords, please join me for the Departing."

The four other Lords make their way into the Vovain and toward Varah. They levitate around her with their arms raised. Every Volonian on the island moves to make the same gesture of tribute. Every voice repeats the word: "Vamore," which means _love_. A golden light drifts down from the sky and wraps itself around Varah's body. The resulting image is the one the Volonians will take with them to remember this sad day: Varah Cutter embraced in a soft, warm shroud of golden light. Everyone present closes their eyes and opens their hearts, creating a spiritual oneness among the Volonian people.

Lordess Raven addresses the group. "My fellow Volonians, we all feel the pain of losing our beloved Varah. No child should have to live without their mother." Tears fall from her eyes. At the back of the Island, Olivia sighs an insincere sigh and rolls her eyes. She is ready for the Departing to be over and for her powers to return.

Broc and Shenzara sit silently as the crowd mumbles their final prayers to send Varah off to her final resting place. It is too painful for the twins to look up, but the sound of the voices honoring their mother buoys them up a little. The vibration from all the prayers aimed at them and their future give them an inner sense of reassuring.

Finally, the Lords lift their hands toward the crowd to indicate that the Departing Ceremony has ended and to call forth the portals. The small fiery spheres return and expand into spinning circles of light. The Volonians calmly rise and walk in their various directions to be transported from the Isle back to their homes.

Mel stands alone watching from a distance. His face is stern, but his heart is broken. He sees the woman he loved floating peacefully above the water. He will never get to fulfill his love for her.

Olivia wanders over to him. He feels her presence but does not acknowledge her. "Someone seems to have gone a bit soft," she prods. He doesn't respond, but keeps his eyes fixed on Varah. "It's your fault she's departed. If you would have agreed to our terms, I would have the Vondercrat, and your precious Varah would still be alive."

Mel slowly turns away. "Visch," he utters.

Olivia chuckles. "Now, now... Somebody has a filthy mouth. Next time just do what I ask and we can avoid the inconvenience of having our powers withdrawn for the day."

"There will be no next time," he mutters, his eyes still focused on Varah.

"Oh, there _will_ be a next time. I can assure you that." She walks around to face him and grabs the gold medallion hanging around his neck. She turns it over to read the initials "VCC" in bold letters engraved on the back. "Nice medallion." I wonder where you got that from." She rips it off his neck and throws it to the ground. Then, Olivia saunters off, being sure to give Mel a great view of her toned backside as she steps into her portal and exits the Isle. Mel is left standing alone, his eyes gazing out into the endlessly pounding waterfalls. He gives one last lingering and loving look to Varah, and then bids her a final goodbye before turning away and stepping into his portal.

After all the Volonians have gone, Lord Roman sees his children still sitting at the water's edge. "Are you two holding up okay?" The twins don't respond to his lame attempt to say the right thing. "I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do?" Their response is cold and unwelcoming, and Lord Roman feels the awkward silence and moves to leave.

"Where is Viscera?" Shenzara asks. "Why wasn't he here?"

Encouraged by her effort to initiate some conversation, Lord Roman turns and replies, "He isn't allowed to come; he's a Guide."

"Whatever." Broc whispers, but Shenzara only stares angrily at her father, disgust clearly prominent in her expression. "We need a minute alone," Broc says without looking at Roman.

"Sure. When you're ready to leave, your portal will be here waiting to bring you home." Roman places his hands on Broc's shoulder; then moves to caress Shenzara's cheek, but she pulls away. He turns to his portal and exits the Isle.

Broc and Shenzara look at their mother in this first peaceful moment of their day. The sound of the flowing water seems to drown out the painful silence. Vamo is brightly moving toward the mountains in the distance, and a softly deepening glow colors the sky. The water laps gently at the bank where they sit. Varah continues to float peacefully above, a golden glow surrounding her. Shenzara picks up a few Locklids left behind and shares a few with Broc. They walk bravely into the water and let the flowers drift from their hands. The beautiful blossoms know exactly where to go, guiding themselves to rest with the others already gathered beneath their mother. The twins step from the water and take a final look at the scene. Shenzara contains herself for the moment. Her breath is steady and her emotions are calm. Broc puts his arm around her. She leans her head on his shoulder and says, "She is absolutely beautiful, Broc."

"Yes, she is. Let's go now, Shenzara."

Shenzara blows her mother a kiss and mouths the words _Vamore. Vamore_. Then, the twins watch as their mother slowly descends into the Vovain. Her feet are first to touch the surface of the blue water, followed by her legs. It is as if the water is pulling her to it. Shenzara weeps on Broc's shoulder as she watches her mother being taken in by the Vovain. Varah's face is still peaceful, and this gives comfort to Shenzara. She knows that someday she will feel that same peace about her mother's Departing. But she does not feel it today. The twins wait a few more moments until their mother has returned to the place from where her power came. Varah's head slowly lowers into the water, and then she's gone. Broc and Shenzara wipe tears from their eyes and grasp hands. They draw their attention back to themselves and renew their dedication to one another. They accept the realization that their mother is truly gone, and they now have only each other. They turn and walk toward their portal, but they are stopped by a voice that stirs an almost-forgotten memory.

"Broc. Shenzara."

They turn. Standing before them is the very same old woman they encountered in the bottomless crater.

"Where do you think you're going?" she says.

"We're going home. What's going on? How did you get here?" Shenzara asks, her face wearing a puzzled expression.

The old woman moves forward, her cane in one hand and the other reaching out to pull the twins to her. "We haven't much time, my little ones. You must come. There is much that you must learn." The old woman leans in, her cane quivering as it struggles to hold up her fragile body.

"We don't know what you're talking about," Broc interrupts. We need to go home."

"But the Vondercrat chose _you_ ," she whispers, her eyes fixated on both of them.

"What?" Shenzara blurts out. "Who are you, anyway?"

"Wait, what do you mean?" asks Broc, starting to take interest.

The old woman moves closer and their bracelets begin to glow. She waves an ancient, trembling hand. The bracelets detach from their wrists and float into her waiting grasp. Shenzara and Broc look on, mystified. "These bracelets conjured the Vondercrat; your mother didn't do it."

Broc backs away, skeptical of her claim. "How did you do that? No one can use their powers on this day, only Lords! Who are you?"

"Who I am doesn't matter. The Vondercrat chose you two, and I need you to come with me." She pauses for emphasis. "The future of Volonia depends on it!"

"I don't want to have anything to do with that book!" Shenzara complains. "It has done nothing but cause us harm." Her hair stands on end, and her eyes flicker and turn from hazel to a bright red. "I'm going home! We didn't ask for any of this, and I'm certainly not planning to go anywhere with you!" Shenzara turns and storms off toward their portal.

Broc grabs her arm. "Shenzara, wait. I want to hear her explanation." Shenzara continues walking, but she is caught up when the old woman's voice morphs into a masculine one.

It's deeper and more commanding. It echoes across the Isle. "Shenzara, come!" The ground shakes. Vantars suddenly take flight around them, their warning calls filling the air. Shenzara turns; her anger drains away, now replaced by an apprehensive fear. Chills run up her spine. The old lady shifts into an apparition-like being clothed in a white robe. A stern and authoritative face is fixed on her. Broc nervously moves beside Shenzara, completely shocked by who stands before him. "G-g-g-uardian Vl- Vl- Vladimir?"

As quickly as they can compose themselves, the twins bow in reverence to the Guardian. "We didn't know it was you. Please forgive us," Shenzara says.

"Rise. There are matters far more important right now than apologies." The future of Volonia is at stake."

"What do you mean? How did the Vondercrat choose us? And why is the future of Volonia at stake?" asks Shenzara.

Vladimir pats her shoulder reassuringly. "There are many questions to be answered, I know," he calmly explains. "Every hundred cycles there is a transfer of power in Volonia. At this appointed time, the Guardians must transfer a portion of their power into a vessel and present it to whomever the Vondercrat deems worthy. You two are the ones the Vondercrat chose. These bracelets hold the powers of the Guardians."

Broc and Shenzara stand, stunned, unable to comprehend what they're hearing. "That is how your mother was able to conjure the Vondercrat, being that she was the one who loved you from birth. With her knowledge of the summoning spell and her relationship to you, she was able to share in the presence of the bracelet's power. The Vondercrat has chosen you. And now, only one question remains. Are you willing to accept the call?"

"Us?" blurts out Broc, completely astonished. Shenzara turns away, her eyes blinking as her mind races through what he has said. "We are just kids," Broc continues. "Why us?"

"The Vondercrat chooses only those who are pure in heart. It takes cycles to prepare for the calling. And now, the Vondercrat is summoning you to answer that call."

Silence envelops the Isle. Vantars become still in the trees. The water ceases flowing. Even the breeze stops its gentle movement.

"What if we don't accept the call?" Shenzara responds.

Broc cautiously moves forward, his hands trembling, and his emotions clearly mixed. "What if we don't want this power? What happens then?"

Guardian Vladimir turns and looks down into the deep blue Vovain. His tone is calm, yet it sends a chill into the twins' hearts. He holds out his hand, and a large sphere appears. "Come." Shenzara and Broc walk closer to the Guardian. As they peer into the transparent globe, they see a desolate Volonia, one that is darkened with fear and chaos. "In this projection of our world, no Volonian has a streak. There is no one in power to perform the Validation." The children look closer and see Volonians running from what appears to be an evil brigade. "There is no Shifting Ceremony. There are no powers to protect them. The Vovain is emptied because there will be no Guardians to control the power of the Vondercrat. The House of Lords sits vacant. War plagues your land, and the Volonia you know no longer exists. This has never happened before because no one has denied this calling. All who are called must accept the power!" Guardian Vladimir pauses to allow all this information to sink in. Then, he continues. "It is an honor to be chosen by the Vondercrat! If the power is not accepted, the power will be compromised. Anyone within reach will be able to get their hands on it, even if they haven't been called. If the Vondercrat or its power falls into the wrong hands, the Volonian race will die slowly and agonizingly. The golden energy will not be released, the Ball of Vamo will be destroyed, and all Shifting will end."

Guardian Vladimir takes a deep breath to emphasize all that he has imparted to the twins. The sphere disappears from his palm. His tone is eerie and his voice is even deeper now. Guardian Vladimir looks into the twins' faces. He is noticeably shaken. "This has never happened before; everyone accepts the power! It is an honor to be ordained by the Vondercrat!"

"So, we don't have a choice?" asked Broc.

"You always have a choice. However, there are consequences for every choice you make."

Shenzara steps in front of Broc, "What about our mom?"

"While her departing was tragic, her love for you has given hope to the Volonian people. Her brave actions are unprecedented, and her legacy is cemented. Now, I must return to my duties as Guardian. Two Portals await you. One takes you to the Guardian City; the other takes you home. The choice is up to you two." Guardian Vladimir tosses the bracelets into the Vovain, and his apparition dissipates into the fog.

Broc and Shenzara stare at each other. Their faces mirror each other's dread and confusion. They stand in utter disbelief at what has just happened. Suddenly, the water of the Vovain starts to boil, the ground shakes violently, and they grab hold of each other tightly. The shifting of the island throws their bodies from side to side, and they fall to the ground, their faces stricken with fear. "What's happening?" shouts Shenzara over the rumbling.

"I don't know!" Trees tumble to the ground; the island rumbles louder, and water shoots up from the Vovain. It's alive and overflowing.

Broc and Shenzara leap from the ground and stumble to their portals. "We have got to get out of here!" What happens next stops them in their tracks. With a great rushing of sound and a surge of water, the enormous Vondercrat rises up from the Vovain. It moves towards the twins. Waves spill over the land, and the ground cracks under their feet. Thunder cracks above, and sudden dark clouds begin to rain down on them. Their bracelets boomerang from the water and clasp themselves onto the twins' wrists. Their entire hands are now illuminated. The Vondercrat torpedoes toward them. The twins can't seem to outrun its pursuit. They fall to the ground and surrender, huddling against one another and covering their faces. The Vondercrat recognizes the power in the bracelets and settles before the twins. It hovers slightly above them, and then it floats and moves in circles around the frightened twins. The book pauses and slowly opens. The Isle of Waterfalls undergoes an immediately calm transformation. They remove their hands from their faces. The Vondercrat floats closer, its light nearly blinding them. It bellows: "GUARDIANS, WHAT IS YOUR REQUEST?"

- THE END -

For Book #2 visit Volonians.com

**About the Authors:** We as authors are traveling the country with our _Let 's Read_ program. It's a program that partners reading with theatre in an effort to bring our youth excitement about books. Visit volonians.com to find out how you can help us help our youth read more.
