 
DARK TIDE RISING

BOOK 1 OF "THE BRIGHTEYES TRILOGY"

By Juan Rojas

Copyright 2015

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Prologue

Chapter 1: The Grey Family

Chapter 2: Uninvited Guests

Chapter 3: Messages From The Beyond

Chapter 4: A Mysterious Meeting

Chapter 5: The Past Unveiled

Chapter 6: Goodbyes

Chapter 7: Through The Gate

Chapter 8: Silversong

Chapter 9: The Flight Across The Sea

Chapter 10: Lore-Kin

Chapter 11: War Council

Chapter 12: An Ancient Ally

Chapter 13: The Library

Chapter 14: A Prisoner

Chapter 15: Training

Chapter 16: A Feast For Kings

Chapter 17: Race Against the Storm

Chapter 18: The Calvary Arrives

Chapter 19: Revenant

Chapter 20: The Change

Chapter 21: A Father's Promise

Chapter 22: Plans

Chapter 23: One Last Sunrise

Chapter 24: Southlake Battle

Chapter 25: The House of Thomas

Chapter 26: Sworn Oath

Chapter 27: Sun Garden

Chapter 28: A Plot Unravels

Chapter 29: Traitor's Gambit

Chapter 30: A City At War

Chapter 31: Metamorphosis

Chapter 32: Rising Hope

Chapter 33: A Long Earned Holiday

A Little Bookshop (Chapter 1 of Book 2: The Maker's Hand)

OTHER BOOKS IN THE TRILOGY

Book 2: The Maker's Hand

Book 3: The Crown of Dreams
PREFACE

"Dark Tide Rising" blossomed from my obsession with mythical—and often pseudo-historical (my character Arthur Mandrakis is the embodiment of this element)—civilisations. Atlantis, Lemuria, Rama and Osiria were just a few names that came up during my research; and it was reading about their supposed wars and use of ancient technologies that I began conceptualising the Three Empires. During the creative process, the instrumentals "Untitled" by VAST and "View of a Burning City" by Appleseed Cast set the mood and theme for the novel.

I want to thank my mother Evelyn Green. A beautiful woman who has been my backbone through everything I do. Without your love, support and guidance, I would be a lesser man.

**PROLOGUE**

"And from the long line of Athesphar descended great emperors and empresses of Lemuria, the Axis of Kingdoms, who were both wise and strong by the tutelage of the Mir and by their own account. All paid homage to this great house, even their enemies in Osiria to the west and Rama to the east; for in those days no wrath was feared more than that of the High Seat of Atlantis and the armies of the Four Orders who upheld her laws. Gaianar, Orgonar, Auralar and Kratoth."

––A passage in the "Book of Scrolls: Lemurian History" by Aztalan Irus'Daetarim, the Emperor's Scribe.

"Hark! Hark O sons and daughters of Atlantis! The king has fallen! Weep for him and for his family. Weep, for the sea of darkness has gathered, and a great light has gone out!"

—Unnamed seer, heralding the death of King Amnaeus Athesphar of Atlantis on the streets of Kallius.

"I saw it! From the fields of Athiqa! Carrion and black smoke rising from the White Isle! And across the Silver Song were tall masts flying the red and gold flags of Rama! Atlantis has fallen!"

—Avalonian peasant to another.

Before Lemuria was united by the Atlantean kings, before the Age of Wisdom and the Azlazarani had made the Crown of Dreams, there was a great war that covered the face of the world, and all nations fell under its shadow.

It was fought bitterly between the empires of Osiria and Rama, whose memory are now forgotten, but whose great expanses, then, crossed mountain ranges and oceans, absorbing most of the lands of earth under their thrall. During this time, there were also cities in the sky, for both empires wanted to spread their territories to the stars, which lay forever out of their reach, beyond the dome of heaven; and the Mir—who are not of the race of mankind—seeing this as part of their prophecy called the Change, took the last of their ancient knowledge back into the depth of the far oceans, to their hidden kingdoms.

Through the countless lives of men and women, across a thousand years, the war that raged was seemingly without end. Its toll was great; yet the armies of the Sun-King and his enemy, the Ajnaram-Rana, never relented. They devoured nation after nation, like locus; pushing deep into the heartlands of the First Continent, with their mighty war machines that blackened the skies.

In the wake of the Osirian-Ramaean War, disease and famine also ran rife in the thralldoms, where the conflict hit hardest. A festering decay called the Pale Blight, which took lives far from the contested battlefields, in the cities and towns; driving people into the wildernesses of the north as refugees. Trade and prosperity halted in this chaotic time; and civil unrest saw rebellions sparked by lawless men and martyrs, who usurped land from the lords they had once served. And it was said, by some who were still faithful to the peace of the Age of Awakening, that the Mir, who had taught mankind in his infancy, had abandoned them because of their deeds; and that the primordial gods, the Daeva, had set in motion the End of All Things. That there would be no peace until the Earth was swallowed into the oblivion that would surely come.

In the minds of both emperors, however, there was hope against the turmoil and despair; for between the mighty girths of Osiria and Rama lay the last free nations that had not yet fallen to either of their armies. They were called the Ten Kingdoms, and the Isle of Atlantis was the strongest and wisest of these lands. A shining light in a sea of darkness.

They were green, wooded lands that buffered the borders of both empires, and through them ran beautiful, sparkling rivers like trails of diamonds from out of the mist shrouded mountain ranges of Nysa, ending in great lakes upon the grass fields of Hy-Bresail, where the best cattle and crops in all the world could be found. Endless blue skies stretched above beaches as clear as glass along the shores of Avalon and around the Isle of Atlantis. And the air of these lands were refreshing and sweet to breathe—the scent of the transparent blue ashur flower heavy on the winds like a seductive dream.

Osiria looked at all of this with envy and hatred, for her lakes were almost dry and her people starving. So it was that they plotted war openly, expanding their fortifications along the shores of Avalon and flying their war-ships closer to the free cities each day, sending no emissaries of their purpose. Rama, however, were more open to negotiation and trade and sort friendship with the Ten Kingdoms, finding that it was better to have allies in times of strife than a new enemy. It was disease that infested their teaming jungles, and this forced the people of Rama to live mostly in the sky-cities that shadowed their heartland in the mountains of Araj'Thayamal, abandoning most of their ancient fortresses that their forefathers had built.

Atlantis had made loose alliances in those days, always favouring Avalon and Hy-Bresail who they shared kinship with through long bloodlines. Yet, when Osiria moved its might against the White Isle, the other kingdoms—through bitter oaths—merged as one and fought back the invaders with a fury unknown to the Osirians. Strengthened by reinforcements from Rama, the united lands who now called themselves Lemuria, defeated Osiria and took back some of their territories that had fallen to the Sun-King in times past. Lands such as Argadnel and Hyperborea in the uttermost north, which were ruled by Osirian princes.

A Council of Kings was formed on the day of victory, and the High Seat of Atlantis became the thrown of the first Lemurian emperor: Thae'il Amraethar who was the oldest son of the last king of Atlantis and who renamed his House to Athesphar to build a new line. The royal families of the Ten Kingdoms all submitted their first-borns to the new bloodline, and Hy-Bresail gave Princess Aeleah Khaa'telion as Thae'il's wife. From this House would descend rulers who shared blood with every Lemurian nation and who would lead with loyalty to all but allegiance to none.

The Third Law, the emperors of Rama called Lemuria, or the Axis of Kingdoms, and for a long time they were friends, prospering from each other in wealth and knowledge. Atlantis allowed trade along the Silver Song river, which ran deep into Rama to the east, and the secrets of the Aether—the earth's life-force—was eventually shared in return by Ramaean seers. The power to speak over great distances with the mind, and to channel power out of the earth for tools and weapons saw the Ten Kingdoms expand their cities to a splendour and glory they had only dreamt of. This time was called the Age of Wisdom and it saw formation of the Sorrarani, a mixed people of Lemurian and Ramaean blood who lived in the high mountains on the borderlands and were great philosophers, inventors and peace-makers.

The Sorrarani leaders—the Aer—were men and women who were wise beyond years and who engineered the Shadow Weirs: pillars that could channel and amplify the power of the Aether as well as transport people in great numbers from one place to another. These they gave to the Athesphar emperors willingly. The Sorrarani also perfected sky-ships, using the Aether engines instead of Osirian aural technology, and worked tirelessly on the Tower of the Clouds, which they planned would one day reach the stars; but was later abandoned due to insufficient building materials and the constant Osirian attacks that crippled its foundations.

At the height of their influence, the Sorrarani sent many of their young men and women to serve the Lemurian and Ramaean emperors as a symbol of peace. They were physically and mentally strong and carried weapons called glaives, which could change shape to the abstract projections of its wielder's thoughts. These weapons were soon carried by all Atlantean soldiers, whom the Sorrarani trained vigorously. From their ranks came the Four Orders of the Trident and the Crown: Gaianar, Orgonar, Auralar, and Kratoth who praised the Sorrarani as highly as they did their own emperor.

The Sorrarani also built their own cities in the mountains, and they began to delve deeper into the earth, seeking the mysteries of Gaia, and the Aether, its spirit. After the city of Suruun was built on the highest peak of the Araj'Thayamal mountains, by permission of the Ramaean emperors, the Sorrarani had finally discovered the secret of khi'naya, which means "astral travel" in their tongue. A man could separate his khi or spirit from his body and travel through the Aether, where his mind was connected to all living things. It was a dangerous sleep that was also called the "deep sleep" and many Sorrarani monks could inhabit the Aether for days on end without food or normal sleep, later returning to their bodies where they were ravenously hungry and exhausted. Some who were much weaker, lost their way in the Aether and their bodies died of starvation. But all who came back were much wiser in the lores of the world and all living things, knowing the intricacies of the Aether. Soon a great order of them formed and called themselves the Azlazarani, and they built in the forges of Suruun the Crown of Dreams, much to the mistrust of the Aer.

The Crown of Dreams was a marvel to behold. The circlet was three entwined bands of silver and gold, representing the three empires, with a clear white stone in the centre. The stone looked as if stars of spiralling galaxies moved below its surface, confined within its prism. The Azlazarani told the Aer, their leaders, that its power was immense: allowing its wearer to be one with the Aether, to be able to feel as the earth does through all its living things and to be able to control all its elements, from the tallest mountains to the deepest oceans. All the winds of the world would move in accord to the wearer's whim. All volcanoes and hidden fires below the ground would rise and consume anything the wearer commanded. It was a symbol of power to keep the balance between the three empires. It was to be honoured by all emperors, but worn only by the Aer'Ashan: the leader of the council. They refused at first, and said in fear that the circlet should be unmade for it could one day destroy the entire world; but the Azlazarani convinced their leaders that under their custodian it would be safe. In the walls of Suruun it would never leave. So the Aer'Ashan agreed to be its warder; yet his fear was still strong and he refused to wear it, instead keeping it locked above the headrest of his throne, where it would be bowed to by a long line of emperors throughout the ages. Where it would stir the desires and cloaked aspiration for power of all who looked upon it. Even by the Sorrarani themselves.

" _There is no desire left for us to live in this realm of the flesh," was the last words the head of the Azlazarani spoke some two hundred years after the Crown of Dreams was made, and he and his people used the last of their secret wisdom to transcend into the Aether, leaving behind their bodies. Their spirits then dwelt forever in the unseen world, where they did, from time to time, occasionally return to inhabit trees, animals and people again, to communicate with the world at the need of their own machinations. Although they were not gods, they were worshiped by some as such, and their shrines were upheld in all lands, even after the Fall._

For six hundred years the Sorrarani helped maintain the peace. However, through the passing of time, oaths were eroded, and new rulers ascended with new visions and ambitions. The cordial and gradually distant relationship between Lemuria and Rama soon turned to distrust, and after a few petty confrontations, finally open conflict. Under a scornful tyrant-emperor Ka'ash Arakesh, old wounds were opened, and Rama moved against Lemuria, claiming its leaders were using the Sorrarani—for their friendship was strong with Atlantis—and the fear of the Crown of Dreams to manipulate their people. The Silver Song was attacked and many of the coastal cities around the Isle of Atlantis were ransacked and destroyed. In retaliation, the Sorrarani in Rama attempted to slay the mad emperor at the behest of the Aer, but were completely wiped out before they could act. Only those who served under the Lemurian emperor remained. So, with the help of the Sorrarani and a gloating Osirian emperor who sided with Lemuria for revenge against Rama, the Third Law declared war against its old friend. The eastern empire was almost crushed; its jungles set on fire by the warmongering Osirians who went beyond the reins of their Lemurian allies. It was a terrible war that saw many families divided and forced to fight each other. The cities of the Sorrarani were all destroyed but Suruun and some coastal towns closer to Hy-Bresail. The Crown of Dreams remained safe however, above the head of the Aer'Ashan.

The war ended when emperor Ka'ash was slain by his own son, Ka'ash II, who loved Lemuria and saw the dangerous repercussions of his father's madness. Through letters to one of the Atlantean princesses he had also won favour with the High Seat, confessing his love and desire for unity between both empires. His family was spared after the war and he was sworn to marry Izsulaen.

Fifteen years of peace passed when suddenly a secret force of Ramaean assassins called the Night's Hand infiltrated Suruun and attempted to steal the Crown of Dreams. The Sorrarani, some Gaianar emissaries who were visiting the Aer, and Ka'ash II, with an entourage of soldiers, repelled the attack; and the assassins were executed. Under secret command of the Aer—even from Ka'ash II himself—the Gaianar took the Crown of Dreams back to Atlantis, leaving behind a fake circlet above the Aer'Ashan throne. In Lemuria, Emperor Amnaeus Athesphar hid the Crown in the Chamber of Sleep, where no thought could penetrate. He was a close friend of the Aer'Ashan, and they both feared that soon the Crown would fall into the hands of their hidden enemy. This fear was born of a prophecy called the Change, which saw the end of the world, and its rebirth; and it had been delivered to them by a Mir messenger who had come from the Sea of Light, beyond the domain of men.

The young emperor ordered his armies to search out any more of the insurgents who claimed to be loyal to his dead father and sent word to Atlantis that he wished to wed Izsulaen on the Night of the Falling Flame. This night, as it was every century, saw a great celestial body streak across the night sky, far above the ceiling of stars, its bright light challenging that of the moon itself. It was called the Falling Flame. But to the Sorrarani it was called a darker name: the Destroyer.

" _A sign of our mighty union!" Ka'ash II said in his last letter to Atlantis. "Finally, two empires merging as one. Osiria will weep in fear at our new bloodline."_

Amnaeus did not like this thought, but said, "In title only, it will see our children's children as heirs to the Twin Empires. But we will keep our sovereignty, for my people will never bow to the east, as your people will not forsake your government to the middle kingdoms, to a foreign crown."

The young Ramaean emperor agreed to the terms of "in title only", but in his heart he had already made his plans for war. For the Night's Hand were his men in truth, and the attack at Suruun was by his command. He had wanted the Crown of Dreams as far back as he could remember; when he was a little boy, accompanying his father on his homage to the Aer throne. A bitter homage that was false. Now his trick at winning the heart of Izsulaen was complete and he would claim the Crown as well, for he knew that it had been taken there, he knew Amnaeus harboured it in secret to all but the Gaianar. Ka'ash II had won one of their number over, had bought their trust, and they had told him everything.

On the Night of the Falling Flame, the Ramaean emperor came to Atlantis to marry Izsulaen in the tradition of the Sea Kings—a name given to Atlanteans by his people. On the eve of their union of both Houses, he uncloaked his hidden army in the streets of the city and attacked, catching his host off guard. In the high tower he battled with Amnaeus and slew all his children with the help of his Gaianar betrayer. Under the blindness of night, thousands of Atlantean soldiers swelled the streets of the city; their glaives locked against the marika spears of the Rama empire who had stepped off many merchant vessel ships, disguised as refugees. Fires burned from every tower and the sky was a-light with the battle of countless sky-ships. Atlantis, the Jewel of Lemuria, almost fell.

It was in the blaze of dawn when Amnaeus took his fight with Ka'ash II to the Chamber of Sleep and revealed the Crown of Dreams. In desperation, and against warnings of the Gaianar general Aramathaeus, the emperor donned the Crown and used its power to lift up the seas around the city of Atlantis. He threw them down upon his enemies and crushed them, washing their broken bodies into the sea. His winds smashed the sky-ships and he opened a crack beneath the ocean, spewing lava and fire at the war vessels and armies that were amassing on the coastlines. The destruction he wrought was great, and many people died, including those who were close to him.

In his madness and despair at the fires that ate his city and the waters that drank his people, Amnaeus fell to the ground, where he was slain by Ka'ash II with his own discarded trident. Then the last emperor of Rama took the Crown and rose above the tower into the sky in a aura of bright light. His lust for power quickly enslaved Ka'ash II to the Crown, and its visions ensnared him. A lucid dream showed him a not to distant future where he would be the King of the World and nothing would stand in his way. All would tremble in fear and adoration at the utterance of his name, and his commands would be absolute. They would sing him praises unto the end of time.

Coming out of that dream, like passing through smoke into the clear air, the last threads of his sanity broke like Amnaeus' had. The power that Ka'ash II now wielded went further than the roots of the mountains and further than the waves crashing beyond the distant horizon. All the thoughts of all the men and women below Ka'ash II were little memories of his own, and nothing was hidden from his gaze. The wind itself was his to mould and shape, and he used it to stay suspended above the sea in a swirling column that pierced the clouds. Used it to sweep up broken shards of the city and hurl them like mighty spears at the Atlanteans and their allies.

When his rampage slowed, Ka'ash II saw his people dying in great numbers. Heard their cries for deliverance echoing off of the white stones of the falling towers and bridges. Felt their last breaths expire under the weight of the black waves and crushing stones. Yet in his madness wrought by the Crown he remained blind to truth of their deaths and blamed Lemuria and Osiria, not his own unravelling rage.

Then it seemed that the Azlazarani were in the wind he commanded, screaming insults and mockery at his piousness, calling for the fall of Rama.

" _You will never be King of the World," they jeered. "Your fate is that of your father's!"_

Guilt filled his heart for that brief moment, and then in one last act of desperation, Ka'ash II drew upon the Aether and its invisible web that connects all life and memory on this earth, finally tearing his spirit from his body. Reaching beyond the dome of heaven, he grabbed the Falling Flame with his will empowered, and pulled it into the heart of the world to destroy his enemies...

The wind tore at her clothes and hair like violent claws. Cold and sharp.

Layla ran into the forest as if her very life depended on it. She had left the house to the intruders, not risking a confrontation without backup. If they found her, if they managed to know what she knew then Layla and her companions' mission would have been for nothing.

Her companions. They were out there somewhere in the night, running for the Gate. She had lost them when the intruders broke into Thomas' house. They had to run. There was no time to regroup.

Soft, bare feet––she had discarded her shoes––carried Layla across the damp ground with little to no sound. Even when the forest-floor was strewn with rocks and branches she glided across them effortlessly without a scratch. The night time noises of the wild had returned now she was deeper in the forest, but all she could hear was her own heavy breathing and the pounding of her heart. Her soft-glowing white eyes aided her in the darkness and she did not stumble as much as she would have if she had been a normal human being––however her legs were slowly giving way to fatigue. Growling in anger at her slowing pace, Layla forced her legs to keep her up and running. She did not know where she was now or how far away from the house she was. She didn't even know if the intruders had picked up her scent and were following. All she knew was she had to run until she could run no more. And then run again.

The crashing of branches and the shouting of voices behind her finally confirmed her fears.

Layla reached up her hands to brush away some low hanging branches when she noticed the ring on her finger was glowing a fierce blue. The light curled and dissipated off of the band like fire but the girl could not feel any heat. It was a beacon, guiding her towards the Gate. The light would grow bright if she neared it and faint if she steered away from it. But where was it?

The young woman felt she was almost at the end of her endurance when she threw a glance over her shoulder to see if she could see her pursuers...

Her foot suddenly hooked under an exposed tree root and her world came crashing down. Her outstretched hands hit the ground heavily, which prevented a face-plant, but her momentum kept her moving and she tumbled and rolled down an unseen slope. When she reached the bottom of the empty ravine, everything went black.

The sound of rustling in the underbrush brought her out of her unconsciousness. Layla sat straight up, and then quickly climbed to her feet in one motion. Her head was thumping from the fall but she shrugged it off and looked about to find a place to hide. The pursuers were close now, she could hear them. Somewhere out in the dark searching for her. Not wasting any time to rest, Layla's glowing white eyes scanned her environment for shelter. Nothing but a narrow strip of grassland for hundreds of feet.

Then Layla saw it. On the opposite bank of the ravine was the sparkling white domes of mushrooms. She looked down at her shaking hand and saw the ring's blue light glowing extremely bright now, almost blinding. She had found what she was looking for. Frantic footprints in the soft soil nearby were telltale signs that her friends had beat her there.

The young woman climbed out of the shallow side of the ravine and stumbled into the large ring of mushrooms that lay upon a grassy clearing under the bright gaze of a full moon. The fog seemed to have receded in this part of the woods, leaving the clearing exposed to the star-studded night sky. Not hesitating, Layla dropped to her hands and knees and began to dig into the soft earth near the edge of the ring where others had done just the same only moments before. Her fingers searching for something.

Angry, incoherent voices in the distance suddenly broke her concentration. They echoed down off of the higher wall of the ravine from where she had fell; somewhere amongst the tall trees, like supernatural creatures of the night hunting their prey.

She swallowed fearfully. _Surely in this clearing and with this glowing ring they will see me!_ The girl thought as she continued to frantically dig. _How did they get here so fast?_ After a few more shovels of soil her fingers struck a metallic surface, which cracked one of her nails. She held back a cry of pain then exhaled slowly.

Layla smiled wearily, pushed her ring into a small crevice in the metallic surface like a key in a lock and then dropped onto her back with her arms stretched out, running her fingers through the dew-moist grass. She closed her eyes.

The mushrooms began to glow even brighter––their white domes glistening like pearls in the moonlight. The large metallic ring beneath the ground was coming to life. Gradually the white domes changed to an eerie blue light––much like her ring––and a low humming sound rose up from the ground. It shook the woman's little body like a bean-shaker. Then the Gate's light rushed in from the mushroom ring's edge and consumed Layla in a pool of blue light.

In the blink of an eye she was gone.

**CHAPTER 1: THE GREY FAMILY**

The Grey family lived in the small town of Willow. Twenty-eight Hope's Hill Terrace, Hope's Hill, in an old house sandwiched between two large, extravagant town houses. Unfortunately their home––much like the Greys' family name––was quite drab and dull; the walls were cracked and paint-peeled, the curtains were dusty and faded and the plumbing was noisy and leaky. Although the place was in obvious need of repair and refurbishment, it was cheap for its location and the Greys were a low-income family who didn't have the luxury to choose wherever they wanted to live. Yet regardless of their lack of wealth, the Greys were goodhearted people who lived passionately and compassionately for each day. Some of their neighbours would even say they were blessed to have survived the trials and tribulations that they had faced throughout their years in Willow.

Jack Sebastian Grey was very responsible at the age of eighteen. He was the oldest of three children and the son of a widow—so in a family without a father he had to be. The teenager was unconventionally handsome with his mop of dark brown hair and his face lightly scattered with freckles. He was slim; but muscular—a gym regular at the Willow University of Arts and Technology where he studied history and literature—and was also quite tall for his age. Most of his friends usually stood up to his shoulder. Jack wasn't overly fussed about this for his height didn't win him better grades, nor did it win him the hearts of the girls he liked. The only thing it did do was make him slouch.

"Stand up straight dear," his mother Eleanor would say to him on more than one occasion, "be proud of your height." Jack would smile and do his best, but walking straight was ingrained in most people and Jack had to actively think about it. With his daydreaming mind he could never keep it up.

He was a conundrum, really. Slightly athletic, a bit of a bookworm, but most undoubtedly shy. A silent giant, some called him.

Eleanor Grey––or Elly as many called her––was a kind woman who was always overly concerned with the well being of her children. Sadly however she was burdened by a wheelchair, which was the result of a car accident she had survived three years ago. Jack loved his mother very much, and because she was limited to what she could do around the house he helped her in anyway he could. Whether that was doing a weeks worth of dirty dishes—that kept piling up without reprieve—or packing school lunches for his younger brother James and sister Alora, Jack would labor on without complaint.

James Albert Grey was fourteen and Alora Fate Grey was twelve. Unlike Jack however, both siblings were far from the responsible types. James liked playing heavy metal music and computer games in his bedroom with the volume turned up really loud; and Alora enjoyed pranks, teasing, and being a downright nuisance to her family. The young girl especially enjoyed taunting James with silly rhymes. Her favourite being: "James, James! You're a pain! How about you grow a brain!" She would sing this quite loudly at the dinner table, over and over again, until she was finally scolded by Elly. Despite a dark scowl on his face and gritted teeth, James was usually good at not lashing out at his annoying sister

Usually.

Then one Sunday evening before dinner, Alora followed her teasing with a peashooter shot to the back of James neck and an explosion of hysterical giggles.

That was the last straw.

"Ouch! You little gnat!" James shouted in surprise, holding his neck. He then leaped from his chair at the dinner table and chased his already running sister down the hallway to her bedroom. "I'll get you 'lora!" he threatened.

"Its A-lor-ra stupid-head!" the girl corrected James as she raced for her open bedroom door.

"Whatever gnat!" James said, trying to grab onto the flapping hood of Alora's pink jumper. However the girl was much faster than the bigger boy and she managed to quickly slip into her room and poke her tongue out at him before slamming the door and locking it.

"No door-banging!" Jack called from the sink as he vigorously scrubbed a greasy dish with a soapy sponge and grimaced at its companions who leaned in an unsteady pile like the Tower of Pisa. The house's old pipes groaned in protest as he turned on the cold tap to rinse off the soap suds. "Remember how crook Mr Whitley can get."

"He'll have us kicked out with no convictions!" Elly added to Jack's warning. She sat at the dinner table sewing a patch on one of Jame's school pants and was keeping half an eye on the chicken and vegetable stew cooking on the stove. "Mr Whitley is not as forgiving as your mother."

"I won't!" James replied red-faced, although hardly frightened of their fat, old landlord. Jack's younger brother was a smart kid and knew how to get the upper hand over his troublesome sister without hitting the door in the traditional style. "If you don't open the door you will soon run out of oxygen, gnat!" James shouted at the door in pretend anger, smiling smugly whilst he held onto the door handle and leaned back to make it difficult for the girl to open the door from the other side. "There is only so many breaths you can make before you suffocate!"

"I'm twelve, James, I'm not stupid!" Alora shouted back at her brother.

James mumbled in frustration. Then after a brief brainstorm his smile quickly returned. "Stupid enough to stay in a room with the Boogie Man under your bed?" He asked, not giving up on the scare tactics.

"Guys, please––" Jack began.

"James, what part of twelve don't you understand! That only worked on me when I was eight!"

"If you say so," James said in a calm voice. "But I saw him last night before you went to bed. He was creeping around the hallways like a big, shadowy spider."

"I'm sure!" She rolled her eyes. "Oh God, what part of twelve doesn't that lummox get?"

There was silence for a moment and Alora heard James whisper from the other side of the door, "Oh, I _am_ sure."

James turned his head and faced away from the kitchen. He closed his eyes for a brief moment and when he reopened them they were glowing white! The boy grinned deviously as he held tightly on the door handle.

The bedroom light switch flicked off and the room went black.

Alora gasped softly, then frowned. She closed her eyes––like James had done––and reopened them. Two glowing white lights glared at the switch and it flicked back on.

James huffed, and flicked the light off again with just a single thought.

The light flicked back on.

Off.

On.

This tug-of-war continued back and forth for about a minute, until finally the light bulb made a popping sound followed by a fizzle and then the room went pitch black... permanently. After a moment of silence, Alora heard a low _hurrrm_ sound and scuttling across the floor behind her, which made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up on ends. She slowly turned her head around to look at her bed, and––as if on call––saw a shadow move quickly across the floor from the foot of the bed into the open wardrobe.

Alora jumped and said, "Is anyone there?" She was instantly answered by the familiar meow of the family cat. Her back still pressed up against the door, Alora breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh its just you, Jinx. Come here you naughty kitty––"

"Iiits... Aaa... Lorrr... Raaa... Stuuuped heeead," said a low, moaning voice from under her bed.

Alora's heart jumped into her mouth and she frantically attempted to turn the handle and pull the door open––but it wouldn't budge. When she realized she couldn't get out she squealed, "Mummy!"

"James!" Elly shouted from the kitchen, "Let her out of her room now! Stop scaring your sister, you should know better than that."

"But she started it!" James answered back, not turning around to face his mother for fear of her seeing his strange, glowing eyes.

"James!"

Slumping his shoulders in defeat and blinking the strange white light out of his eyes, the young boy opened the door.

Alora bolted from the doorway and down the hallway crying. She was half-way to the dinning room when she stopped, ran back to James and heeled him in the foot, before rushing back into the kitchen where she threw her arms around her mother's neck and began sobbing.

"Ow!" James shouted out in pain, then bit his bottom lip. He felt a great injustice had been dealt and angrily limped back to his bedroom. "I'll get you later gnat!"

"No you won't James," Elly replied with a stern voice as she stroked her blonde daughter's hair. The old woman turned her gaze down at her whimpering daughter and lifted the child's chin up with a finger to gaze into her blue eyes. "Even though I scolded your torturer, you know you were in the wrong Alora, don't you?"

The girl sobbed––though more out of hurt pride now than fear––and buried her head in her mother's neck again. It smelt sweet like fresh spring flowers.

Elly turned and looked up from her wheelchair at Jack, who returned the silent stare with a helpless smile.

That night, James and Alora returned to their rooms, escaping any sort of allocated house duties their mother might bestow on them. James had almost defeated an end level boss on the online game he was playing when Jack called down the hallway, just managing to get over his loud music, "Hey guys! Dinner is almost ready!"

Jack had begun setting out his mother's old, second hand cutlery around the table, when Alora yelled from her room, "Coming!" Moments later she raced into the dinning room with bright, wide eyes as if looking for someone. "Is he here yet?"

"No not yet," Jack laughed, ruffling his little sister's hair as she passed him.

"Aw!" Alora said with a huff, crossing her arms and pouting.

"Rowan must be stuck in traffic again," Elly said from the stove. She was now leaning on a walking stick as she stirred the contents of a steaming pot. "I told him to leave earlier to avoid traffic."

Rowan was Elly's eldest son from her first marriage and therefore half-brother to Jack, James and Alora. Although he lived in the much bigger city of Paradise, which was an hour and half drive away from Willow, he was always over for dinner on Sunday nights.

"Don't worry, he'll be here soon," Jack said reassuringly.

"Oh I hope so. I'm just concerned about that dangerous motorbike of his."

"Rowan's motorbike is cooool!" Alora said excitedly. She lifted her head up to catch Jack's eyes and grinned mischievously.

"Yeah it is cool isn't it," he replied with a smile and then ruffled his sister's hair. "But you're too young to be wanting to ride motorbikes."

Alora laughed and pulled away, but Jack pulled her into a playful headlock and ruffled her hair again.

"Let go of me, Jack!"

There was a sudden knock at the door and Elly said in between blowing on a ladle of hot stew and tasting it, "Can someone get the door please. It will be your brother."

Alora instantly escaped Jack's grasp and ran to the door and opened it. Leaning in the doorway was a tall, rugged looking man with long, black hair in a ponytail and wearing a leather jacket. A motorbike helmet was tucked under one arm. When he saw Alora his eyes lit up. "Hey there pint-size!" he said affectionately as she tightly embraced his waist. "Are you going to let me in?" When she didn't disengage the hug he reached down and picked her up effortlessly and carried her into the dinning room towards Elly and Jack.

"Hey Rowan," Jack said cheerfully, as he placed the last plate on the table. "Glad you could make it."

"Hey man," his half-brother greeted him. He placed his helmet on a nearby chair and patted Jack on the shoulder with his free hand. "I see you're helping mum out as usual. Good work."

"Thanks."

"So where's James?" Rowan turned and asked Elly whilst still holding onto Alora. "I've got a new CD for him."

"Oh no, not another heavy metal album please, dear," Elly said with dismay on her face. "We'll never hear the end of it. The neighbours never hear the end of it."

Rowan and Jack both laughed.

"James is being a pain," Alora whispered in Rowan's ear.

Her half-brother turned and nuzzled his forehead into hers. "You guys had better not have been fighting again. Otherwise there will be no more motorbike rides for you."

Alora gasped in shock at the thought and shook her head.

"Rowan!" Elly said disapprovingly, "You haven't been taking them for rides have you?"

"Only down the street for milk," the young man replied with a wink at Jack who laughed under his breath. Rowan lowered Alora to the ground and walked over to plant a kiss on his mother's cheek. "And only at a snail's pace."

"It better have been at a snail's pace." Elly kissed Rowan on the cheek.

"Uh-ah!" Alora said running over to cling onto Rowan's arm. "We went faster than a bullet train!"

Elly tilted her head and looked at Rowan.

"A snail's pace," he repeated, picking up his little sister again and blowing on her tummy. Her giggles were much higher pitched this time.

James suddenly ran from the hallway into the kitchen. "Rowan!" he shouted, almost bowling his half-brother over.

"Hey little buddy," Rowan said with a lop-sided grin, "I was wondering where you were. I've got something for you."

Alora looked down at James with a furrowed brow. "Humph!" she said with a frown.

The young man looked from Alora to James who was also looking displeased at the sight of his little sister. "Now come on guys," he said, "This is no way to treat each other."

"But she started it!" James protested.

"But he started it!" Alora protested at the same time.

Jack suppressed a grin whilst Elly watched her children in curious silence.

"Hey, hey, hey," Rowan said grabbing James with his other arm and holding him close. "How about you guys apologise to each other this instance. It doesn't matter who started it, you're both being silly. We're family and we're all that we've got."

James and Alora had downcast gazes and tried not to look at each other.

"James," Rowan said, looking at the young boy. "You don't want to hurt Alora now do you do?"

"No," James replied under his breath.

"Alora," Rowan turned to the girl. "Do you want to hurt James?"

"No," she whispered in his ear and covered her face with Rowan's shoulder.

"Well then, lets just be friends again, okay? Otherwise there will be no more presents or motorbike rides."

"No!" both kids cried together.

"I want a motorbike ride Rowan!" Alora pleaded.

"Yeah me too," James added. "Oh and you said you brought me something too?"

"Hey!" Alora butted in. "Do I get something?"

Rowan kept his gaze stern. "What do you two have to do first?" he asked, not letting them get carried away.

"I'm sorry 'lora," James said, finally looking at his sister. "I mean, A-lora." He corrected.

"I prefer gnat," the girl said. Then she finally said with her genuine, sweet smile—which she could do on occasions to the adoration of those who saw it—"Sorry James. I didn't mean to shoot a pea at you."

Rowan laughed and said, "See it wasn't hard now was it?" The young man then pulled a CD out of his leather jacket's inner pocket and gave it to James. "The CD is the new album from the band Burning Chalice," he said, making a claw with his hand and softly growling the band's name. "Because I know how much you love them." He then turned to the girl and pulled out bracelet made of linked hearts and said, "Emily bought this bracelet for you Alora when we were in America last month. Not as brutal as the CD, but awesome nonetheless."

"It's pretty," Alora said, touching the hearts with a finger. She then gently took it and linked it around her wrist.

Both kids gave Rowan a big hug before seating themselves at the dinner table.

"I'm hungry," Alora said with a big grin.

Elly mouthed the words "thank you" to Rowan as he went to the stove to help prepare the food with Jack.

The Grey family spent hours after dinner talking at the table like they always did every Sunday night. They discussed James soccer practice, Alora's singing lessons at school and Jack's recent obsession with learning piano, which Elly could only just manage to afford. Then when it was Rowan's turn he was a bit apprehensive talking about his recent overseas trip to America. Although the young man and his fiancée Emily had saved for over a year on meager wages to get there, he didn't want to sound like he was flaunting the holiday in their faces, especially when they could hardly afford to travel to Paradise to visit him. However after a barrage of questions from his eager siblings and an encouraging smile from his mother, Rowan finally explained his adventure in greater detail––and his audience was captivated.

"That is amazing," Jack finally said when his brother had finished explaining his romp with Emily through the glitzy city of Las Vegas. "I'd love to travel like you Rowan, although I'm sure it would cost a fair bit."

"You got that part right," his half-brother confirmed with a smile at Elly that was mockingly painful. "Pricey, but totally worth it."

"You should take us with you next time Rowan," James suggested as he wiped a piece of bread around the edge of his bowl, soaking up the remaining of his stew. He then took a bite and said whilst chewing, "I'd love to see America. They've got some brutal bands over there!"

Alora giggled at her brother speaking with his mouth full and Elly gently elbowed him to remind James of his manners.

"Can we go?" Alora added, bouncing excitedly in her chair. "Pleaeease Rowan! Pleeease!"

Rowan laughed warmly. "Someday little lady. But for starters I should take you guys somewhere closer to home. Like, say Everdawn Island, perhaps?"

"Yes, please!" both James and Alora shouted in unison.

"Just wait until Mum is feeling up for it and then I'll take you all to the Highcrest Resort. It is where I took Emily for our first year anniversary. Its backdrop has the most beautiful beaches you have ever seen." Noticing the half interested looks from his two younger siblings he added, "And amazing video game arcades and shops!"

Jack watched in amusement at the facial expressions of his siblings. James and Alora turned to Elly and begged her with big eyes and repeated "pleases".

"Oh, I don't know," the old woman said with a cheeky smile. "Perhaps when I can walk again."

"Aw!" Alora bawled, crestfallen.

"That could take forever," James complained.

"James!" Jack reacted sternly to his brother's comment.

The younger boy quickly added, "I mean, you might get better quicker if we were on a nice relaxing holiday at a resort!"

Elly reached over to remove some food from the corner of Alora's mouth with her thumb then said, "I'm kidding. I was actually thinking we should go some time after the school break. How does that sound?"

"Yes!" James and Alora echoed each other in excitement. Jack smiled softly to himself. He was daydreaming of a trip away from Willow. Far away from the daily hardships his struggling family faced. Daydreaming of a holiday they all so desperately needed.

**CHAPTER 2: UNINVITED GUESTS**

Rowan leaned down and hugged Elly in her wheelchair. "It was good having you over dear," the old woman said with a warm smile. However her sad eyes revealed a desire for him to stay longer. "Have a safe trip back to Paradise."

"Thanks. I just hope James and Alora remain civil."

His mother laughed and put her hands on her hips. "Do you think that is possible even after their older brother has spoiled them?"

"Anything is possible," Rowan said with his trademark wink. "And Jack is their older brother, not me."

"Rowan––" Elly began.

"No, he is. And he's doing a great job of it too. You couldn't ask for anyone better."

She didn't reply, but smiled, her eyes welling with tears.

"Now I better go before Emily starts wondering where I am. Oh, before I forget," Rowan said as he reached into his leather jacket and pulled out an envelope that appeared to be quite full and slipped it into his mother's hands. "You might need this."

"You shouldn't have," she said, embracing Rowan again, and crying softly.

"Its for the bills," he said, kissing her forehead. "I love you."

"I love you too," Elly replied, letting her son go and wiping the tears out of her eyes.

"Hey, this shouldn't be a tearful goodbye. You will be seeing me tomorrow morning bright and early," Rowan said as he pulled his motorbike helmet on. He waved at her then disappeared into the night.

"You better bring Emily with you!" Elly called after him. "We miss her!"

"I will!" she heard his reply followed by the sound of the motorbike's engine starting.

Jack watched his mother and half-brother from the end of the hallway. He saw the envelope being passed and knew it was another payment from Rowan to help with their rent and bills. Bills that they never seemed to be on top of, or free from. Jack felt grateful for having Rowan's help and hoped one day to pay him back.

The sound of Rowan's motorbike riding off into the night signaled Jack's bedtime. He had uni at 8:45 AM the following morning but had to be up at least two hours earlier to help his mum with preparing breakfast.

As Jack made his way towards his bedroom, Alora's door opened and the girl wandered out into the hallway with a displeased look on her face.

"What's wrong?" he asked her with a startled look.

"I found the Boogie Man," she replied, lifting up a meowing black cat.

"Jinx?"

"No," the girl said, handing the cat to Jack and turning around to pick up a battery-powered talking teddy bear propped in her doorway, "Teddy Rex."

The teenager gazed at the dangling feline in his hands and at the toy bear in Alora's with confusion for a moment before slowly making a vague connection. "James," he said his brother's name accusingly. "But how––"

"James spoke through Rex somehow. And the low batteries made him sound like a monster. Rex scared me and Jinx."

Jack nodded, lowered Jinx to the ground and headed down the hallway towards his brother's room. James' music got louder as he got closer to the door. He knew he was coming.

"James, open the door," Jack said after he realized the handle was locked

"What?" came a reply from the other side, half drowned out by loud heavy metal music.

"You heard me," Jack said a little louder, knocking on the door and twisting the handle in vain. "Open the door, I just want to talk."

"What? You just want to what?"

"Talk! I want to talk. Now open the––" Jack stopped and took a deep breath. He looked over his shoulder and saw Alora standing in the hallway with Jinx sitting by her feet––both were looking at him intently. Jack didn't want to break his own rule but what he did next was not strictly forbidden. It was a silent ability that the three used when the time called for it. And now the time called for it. Jack closed his eyes and reopened them, revealing two white, glowing lights.

_I know you can hear me now_. Jack said to his younger brother with his mind. Now most people who say things in their heads don't get a response. However the Grey children were not most people. When they used their minds to speak they could hear each and every word as clear as day. Open the door James, I want to talk. He demanded this time.

There was a long pause. Then his brother's voice replied inside his head. _You're not mad at me are you?_

No, I'm not. But don't make this harder than it should be. Otherwise I will get mad.

The music stopped.

Jack heard the door being unlocked and then opened. A moment later, James gingerly stuck his head out and asked with a half smile, "Hey, what's wrong?"

Jack pushed the door open, forcing James back, then walked into his brother's room.

"What's wrong?" James asked again with feigned concern on his face. His eyes were also glowing white.

"You know very well what's wrong," Jack said, closing the door behind him, then plonking himself down on James' bed. He blinked the white light out of his eyes and motioned to his brother to do the same before saying, "I told you and Alora not to use our abilities with mum around. She isn't to know."

"I don't know what you're talking about––"

"Teddy Rex the Boogie Man," Jack cut in sarcastically, "Is what I'm talking about."

James lowered his head, stifled a snigger and looked at his feet. He didn't deny the accusation.

"You spoke through the toy to scare her," Jack continued. "And doing things like that without proper reason is against the _rules_ , remember? The rules that we all made together. Rules to protect our secret."

"She wouldn't have known," James protested, lifting his gaze to his brother's.

"No," Jack replied. "Mum more than likely didn't know. But if she ever catches us doing something... not normal, she might get scared. Or worse, she might tell someone. Then we could get taken away for experiments or God knows what." That last comment about government abduction was Jack's biggest weapon to keep his siblings quiet about their abilities. It was always effective.

"Sorry," James said dolefully. "I promise not to stuff up like that again."

Jack studied his brother's face to see if he was telling the truth, then finally said, "Okay." He knew his brother was being genuine, because every time James lied he usually looked away and his ears flinched. A telltale sign he was well aware of.

"Remember," Jack said, standing up and making his way to the door. "It is to be used only for emergencies or when we are alone together."

"That includes––" James started to say.

"That includes _all_ of our... abilities." Jack whispered the last part. "Now get some sleep. I'll have breakfast ready for you guys tomorrow morning."

"Jack," James said before his older brother could leave. "I'm truly sorry. I don't want us to be taken away from mum. She would be heartbroken. And I dread to know what would be done to us. "

Jack simply nodded. He was about to leave the room when he hesitated and turned to look back at his brother with a slight smile. Throwing a thumb over his shoulder to gesture at Alora's room, he curiously asked, "So how did you do that trick anyway?"

The question took James by surprise; however he quickly mirrored his older brother's smile and said, "I simply pictured myself inside the robot bear and projected my voice out. Its hard to explain but it has taken me months to perfect. Projecting my voice from objects that is."

Jack chuckled softly and after a slight pause of contemplation he left without saying a word.

No matter how much he tossed and turned, Jack could not get to sleep.

He finally gave up after an hour or so and sat up in his bed, staring out the open window of his bedroom. A gentle breeze stirred the window's white curtains into a rhythmic dance; like ghosts serenading each other.

The discussion he had had with James earlier about not using their _abilities_ to draw attention to themselves was still fresh in his mind. Jack was scared at the thought of them being taken away from their mother. And scared not just for their own sake either, but for Elly's as well. Ever since the accident, her children––including Rowan and Emily––were all she had left in the world.

Jack's thoughts then drifted to the fateful night of the accident.

And to his father.

He rolled over on one side, flicked on his lamp and peered longingly at the picture frame on his bedside table. A man was in the picture. A man with dark brown hair and a warm smile. He was holding a baby Jack in his hands and receiving a kiss on the cheek from a much younger Eleanor. Thomas Grey had died two years ago in the very same car accident that had taken away his mother's ability to walk. Losing him had left them emotionally, physically, and financially crippled. They almost never recovered.

A tear glided down Jack's cheek, but he quickly rubbed it away with a sleeve. They needed each other now—more than ever. And to ensure this, the Grey children's abilities had to remain a secret.

Gifted with abilities they did not fully understand, the Grey children were unlike any other children. Freaks they might be called, or 'unique'. The abilities they had had come to them during the time of grief over their father's death. Abilities that started out as silent prayers and then became something else. They could talk to each other with their minds, communicate with animals and even move objects by just thinking it. The last one being quite difficult to do and leaving the child feeling very tired afterward. Then there was the glowing eyes. Jack had scared himself half to death one day when he spoke to James with his mind whilst brushing his teeth in front of the bathroom mirror. His softly glowing, white eyes––which reacted to the telepathy––made him spit the toothpaste at his reflection in surprise. It took them a couple of weeks to get use to this eerie feature of their powers; but it made walking in the dark much easier and far more interesting, especially during Halloween. And yet with all these abilities, Jack wished above all else that he had the power to bring his father back from the dead.

A noise outside Jack's window suddenly snapped him out of his reverie. It was a loud humming, followed by the splash of water and scurrying feet.

_Who's there?_ Jack projected his telepathy out to the unseen intruder. There was no response. The teenager then leaped from his bed––his eyes ablaze in white light––and ran to the window, brushing the billowing curtains aside and peered out into the night.

Nothing.

"Curious," he whispered to himself as his green eyes scanned the backyard through the branches of the old oak tree, which reached up to his window. A big, full moon hung in the dark sky like an ominous eye glaring down at Jack. Moonlight glittered off the white caps of a large ring of mushrooms that surrounded a small pond by the far fence... but there was no one there.

Jack sighed, his eyes lingering on the pond. Once a shed had stood there. However a mysterious fire had destroyed it and part of the house. The Grey children––their mother had been out shopping with Rowan at the time, and their father was on one of his camping trips up north––only just managed to escape with their lives. Thankfully it was the oak tree's branches that provided that escape.

Fire fighters blamed the fire on the heater in the living room but Jack's gut feeling told him it was something more sinister. A week later, his father died and his mother was permanently injured in the car accident.

After two tragedies in a row, Elly couldn't afford to pay the mortgage or the repair bills with her single pensioner's allowance and she was forced to sell the house. Luckily for them the new owner, Mr Ryan Whitley, allowed the family to still rent the place. That was two years ago. The memory of the fire, which had left a large pit in the backyard where the pond had formed, still filled Jack with sadness and unease every time he looked out of his window. Shaking the memory away he slowly pulled his window down and latched it, ending the curtain's gentle dance.

Jack looked one last time at the empty yard. _So many questions_. He thought. _When will they all be answered?_

_What questions?_ A girl's voice spoke in his head, startling him.

_Alora?_ Jack asked back with his thoughts. _Are you still up?_

_Yes!_ She replied.

You shouldn't be eavesdropping!

I wasn't!

_Well go back to bed please._ Jack ordered. _You have school tomorrow and you'll be sleepy if you don't get some sleep now._

_I can't, I can't sleep._ The girl complained telepathically. _I keep thinking of the Boogie Man!_

_He's not real Alora_ ––

_Hey guys_. James' voice suddenly popped in their heads. _Stop yelling! I'm trying to get some sleep here!_

_Sorry James!_ Alora shouted with her thoughts. _I mean... sorry James._ She whispered.

_Yes, sorry James_. Jack said. _I didn't know I had the volume of my thoughts turned up... like your music._ He grinned at his last comment.

_That's not funny!_ James replied. _Now both of you either pipe down or go to bed!_

_Okay._ Alora said. _See you in the morning James!_

_Unfortunately_. James attempted to say quietly.

Hey! I heard that James Grey!

_Guys!_ Jack interrupted. _Good night!_

_Good night everyone._ Alora said in her sweet voice again.

_Night._ James huffed.

Jack laughed softly by the window and shook his head. He stayed up just a little bit longer that night, listening and waiting for whatever made the strange humming noise to return. When it didn't, he finally succumbed to sleep.

The blue tinge of light faded from the mushroom ring in a dissipating aura. The white domes glistened once again under the moonlight.

Before the girl could be seen by the silhouette in the window far above the yard, she scrambled quickly to her feet and silently ran along the side of the wall of the house. As she ran her body strangely took on the texture of the wall like a chameleon, revealing only the subtle outline of her moving limbs. A couple of breaths later she slipped around the corner of the building to reach a fence-line the height of her head. Without hesitating to size up the obstacle, the lithe girl leaped agilely over the fence and landed on all fours on the other side. She then darted for the cover of a driveway where three figures waited for her.

"Glad you could finally join us, Layla," a voice whispered. It belonged to a handsome young man with long, sandy-blonde hair and a slightly muscular build. Two blue eyes sparkled at her over smiling cheeks, which had the dimples of a cherub. Upon closer inspection, the girl also noticed his legs were soaked in pond-water like hers––his sneakers leaving a trail of wet footprints from the fence. Unlike her however, it didn't affect his cheery demeanour.

Under the shelter of the driveway Layla could just make out the blonde man's two companions who were standing only a couple of feet behind him, half engulfed in the shadows. Leaning against the Grey family's van was another young man wearing a black leather jacket. He was much thinner than the first and had straight, black hair down to his jawline; and pale white skin as if he had never seen the sun in years. His face seemed cold and aloof and his thin lips were poised in a sarcastic sneer. Beside the ghostly pale youth stood a tall, middle-aged man with a bald head and a short cropped, black and white peppered beard. His facial features were hard and stern, and his eyes were closed as if he were concentrating on something. When Layla took a few more steps closer towards him, the most distinguishable feature about the bald man was revealed in the moonlight: a scar running from the ridge of his left cheek bone down to the tip of his chin.

"Spending too much time staring at the boy in the window were we?" The black-haired man asked Layla, slyly.

"No," the girl replied hastily and somewhat defensively. Spinning around to face her accuser, her skin quickly changed from its chameleon-state back to its original fair appearance. The pretty girl moved a lock of wavy, brown hair out of her sparkling green eyes and looked defiantly back into the young man's scrutinising and ridiculing gaze. "I was just... never mind."

There was a moment of silence before Layla spoke again––this time addressing the three collectively. "Did anyone else hear his conversation?" She tapped on the side of her head to emphasise Jack's telepathy.

"Yes, I did," the older man said, his eyes still closed. His voice was deep; sending tingles up Layla's spine when he spoke.

"And I," the pale man added quite irritatedly, "teleported in that God forsaken pond just as the boy and his siblings started yelling 'goodnight' at each other."

"Oh come on now, Cloak," the blonde man chuckled softly, "they're only teenagers."

"That's all the reason I need, Will."

"Now that's harsh––"

"Quiet, all of you!" the bald headed man commanded, his eyes suddenly opening. They were misty grey like a gathering storm and moved from one face to the next, before finally resting on Layla. "We've wasted enough time already. Let's go." He then began to move swiftly a long side the van and waved at the others to follow.

"Sorry, Mathias," Will said, his usual cheeriness replaced by serious obedience. He ran up beside the older man to match his brisk pace.

Cloak simply snorted in disgust and ran after them.

The four moved stealthily out of the driveway, across the house's front lawn, and towards the road. They moved about silently and unseen like a group of professional house burglars. The stillness of the night was unfortunately broken when William accidentally kicked over and shattered a garden gnome against a garden rock, hindering their escape. Somewhere in the neighbouring yard a dog began to bark gruffly at the intruders. Another dog several houses down barked back in response and soon the whole street was a canine choir.

"The park!" Mathias said, pointing across the road to a small lot, which was crowded in by thick, shadowy trees.

In a blur of incredible speed the four ran towards the park. Their bodies shimmered watery under the streetlights and suddenly took on the chameleon aspect, which Layla had used earlier; only their moving outlines could be seen. In a few breaths they were within the protection of the trees.

Mathias sat wearily upon a park bench to catch his breath back and Layla joined him. She took his hands in hers and looked into his eyes, sensing a sudden change in his mood. "What is wrong?" She asked.

"Thomas' children," the bald man answered in a distant voice. He dropped his head and slumped his shoulders.

"What of them?" Layla pushed.

Mathias lifted up his face and stared at her. There was sadness in his storm-grey eyes. "He has left them with such a great burden to bare."

**CHAPTER 3: MESSAGES FROM THE BEYOND**

That night, Jack dreamed he was flying above Willow with the night's wind cold against his skin, ruffling his hair and clothing and stinging his eyes.

With wildly flapping arms he propelled himself away from his house and down Hope's Hill Terrace across the neighboring houses. As he flew across the rooftops he spied many silver-glowing cords that lifted far up into the sky like balloon strings. However instead of balloons at the end of the cords there were peacefully sleeping bodies of people! Some of them were running in the air on the spot as if they were being chased––although nothing could be seen chasing them. Others still were laughing and wriggling about as if invisible hands were tickling them. Jack also noticed some of the glowing spirits had drifted far away from their homes––though their silver cords were still anchoring them to their bodies in their beds––and were hugging, kissing, fighting and playing with other spirits houses down from their own. Whatever they were doing they all had one thing in common: all their eyes were tightly closed. And then Jack realised he was the only one who was awake.

_How could this be?_ He wondered.

Jack suddenly found himself above his old high school. He could see some kids sitting on the oval far below him––smoking, drinking and kissing each other under the stars. He shouted down at them but they couldn't hear him. He laughed, watched for awhile and then flew away from the school and the quiet suburban streets towards the central business district. Towards the bright lights.

The roar of car engines gradually grew louder and the lights from the buildings and cars glared up at him, drawing him closer like a moth to a candle. Jack swooped down into the busy streets, soaring above the tops of the night revelers who spilled out of the nightclubs and filled the paths in drunken, shambling mobs. He even managed to see the bar where Rowan use to work at when he first met Emily––before he steered away and began to ascend into the sky again.

Jack flew higher and higher. He flew towards the sparse clouds that stretched across the star-studded night sky until the town became a small spec below him. He then felt himself move helplessly with the strong wind currents, his body tossed about as if he was a helpless leaf and was swept far away from the town. After a brief moment of turbulence he was in control again. Treetops blurred beneath him now, replacing the rooftops. Gradually they disappeared as well and were in turn replaced by green rolling hills and fields... then encroachment of civilization again. He was heading towards the city of Paradise.

Then a voice spoke in his head. A voice he hadn't heard in a long time, a voice prayed he would one day hear again. His father's voice. It's deep timbre vibrated through his tiny frame, bringing up unresolved emotions of longing.

_Jack, my dear boy, do not be afraid._ Thomas said. _This is a dream I have planted in you. A memory I have given to James and Alora too so you can all be comforted in knowing that I have not abandoned you. And to know that the strange powers you may have already discovered you possess were passed on to you by me. Powers you cannot deny. Powers that belong to an ancient people who have survived for thousands of years. One day soon it will all make sense. You are important to me. Remember that... and remember me._ Thomas' voice then began to slowly fade into an inaudible whisper, which was drowned out by the strong wind.

"I will father!" Jack cried in response, his heart beating fast in his chest as his hands clawed desperately at the air about him in a vain attempt to grab a hold of some corporeal essence of his father. "Please don't leave. Please! Mum needs you! We need you! Please return to us––"

Then he found himself suddenly surrounded by a swirling whirlpool of darkness and the unconsciousness of sleep swallowed him into its abyss...

The car horn honked twice again.

"I'm coming!" Jack called back... again. This was the first time in a long time he was late for class. He was usually ready before James and Alora. "Give me a sec!"

"Come on dear," Elly said to him, leaning on her walking stick in her son's bedroom doorway. She watched him hurriedly fumble with his shoe laces and frowned. "Rowan promised me breakfast with Emily at her parents' place today."

"Okay, okay, I'm ready," Jack replied, leaping off his bed and grabbing his schoolbag from his chest of drawers. He quickly kissed his mother on the cheek and bolted down the hallway. "See you this afternoon! Love you!"

"Love you too," Elly said with her hands on her hips, watching him vanish out the front door. "Make sure you close the door behind––"

The front door slamming cut her off. She smiled and shook her head. "Looks like its just you and me again Jinx," the woman said to the black cat who weaved between her legs and then curled up on her feet.

Jinx simply meowed lazily in response.

"Your chariot awaits, O Prince of Punctuality!" Rowan said jokingly, waving his arm out of the driver's side window at Jack.

"Very funny," Jack replied as he opened the door to the front passenger seat. "I'm never this late."

"Hence the title," Rowan said, winking at him.

"Lets go already," Alora piped in. "I'm going to be late!"

"Before we go," Jack said, turning to his little sister. "Did you put salt in the sugar pot?"

Alora grinned deviously, then began to giggle.

"No wonder my cereal tasted dreadful," James complained and glared at her.

"Same," Jack said, but smiled cheekily at her instead.

"That's what you get for scaring me James," Alora said indignantly.

"Let's go!" James bawled.

"We're going!" Rowan replied. "But first the music good man!"

"Oh no," Alora complained, putting her hands on her ears and frowning.

"Oh yes!" James laughed, his mood changing. He eagerly handed over his portable music player to the driver. "I converted the album to MP3 last night."

Rowan took the device and plugged it into his front dash then hit play. Suddenly the band Burning Chalice exploded from the speakers and James and Rowan began to head bang. " _Let us ride into the night! With wheels of fire burning bright!"_ the band's singer sung with high pitched vocals over the top of fast, screeching guitars and heavy pounding drums. Jack and Alora watched in amusement as Rowan and James repeated each line of the song, whilst playing air guitar. " _No one can stop us––we the immortals! No one can defeat us––we the immortals, of rock and roll!"_

Rowan slicked his hair back and accelerated down the road towards the school. Then after that, the Willow University of Technology.

Jack was only half an hour late for his history lecture. His frantic flight up the theatre stairs to reach an empty seat at the back didn't catch the attention of the white-haired lecturer who had his back to his half-awake audience, pointing at images of Egyptian pyramids projected on a large space of wall and talking in a droning, monotone voice. His eyes were mostly on the projected slides or the textbook resting on the podium he stood behind; but occasionally he spared a brief, routine gaze at some point in the shadowed mass of faces in the theatre. His name was Professor Windgate and he looked as old as the civilisations he taught about.

Cradling his backpack between his feet and placing his hand recorder on record, Jack folded his arms on his desk and dropped his head between them. He was asleep before the lecturer could finish saying "...ancient technology..."

Jack was flying again. This time he was descending out of a veil of clouds that were pierced by a glaring sun above him and dropping fast towards the infinite blue ocean below. He wasn't flying, he was falling.

"Nooo!" Jack screamed in fear, covering his face with his arms. The wind whipped ferociously through his hair and clothes as the great blue drew closer and closer like a vortex drawing him in. Then a couple of hundred feet before impact he suddenly curved away and leveled out so he was hovering above the water, heading towards a distant shoreline with the speed of the wind.

A golden stretch of sand shimmered on the horizon. As Jack got closer to it, a smear of green treetops upon a high cliff began to take shape; a buffer between the clear blue sky and the yellow sand. Then distant mountains and what appeared to be white lofty towers and castle walls began to solidified from ghostly, grey shapes. Jack soon realized he was looking upon a great, ancient city that rested upon the shoulders of three mountains, overlooking a forest-covered island. Colorful flags fluttered wildly from each spire and far-reaching bridges spanned between the towers, creating walkways amongst the clouds. Giant, marble statues of warrior men and women stood in battle-poses about the walls of the city, holding spears or drawing back bows. They appeared to be initially carved out of the mountains themselves and then later added to with other materials. Even from a distance, Jack noticed that each monolith was highly detailed—etched and patterned with gold and silver and in parts studded with rare gemstones, which reflected the sun's brilliant rays. Upon even closer inspection the young man noticed that the statues were also towers themselves. Portals opened from their eyes and Jack could see specks of movement within; people he suspected. The ones that carried bows pointed them towards the endless ocean. Suspended where the arrow should be, between the string hand and the bow hand, were great marble platforms that carried bird-shaped structures made of some metal alloy. To Jack's eyes they appeared to be runways and the birds were aircraft.

The young man was now above the vast, teaming city and the towers and bridges were flying passed him. At times he would reach out and touch their surfaces when he was near enough, feeling the gemstones bounce under his fingers as his hands passed over richly designed motifs in the stone walls that depicted aquatic themes and great battles fought long ago.

Crowds of thousands of people filled the streets and open spaces below. They were too far away to pick out details, but their mass of colorful garbs looked like a fractured rainbow spilling out of buildings. Their collective voices a soft murmur below the wind.

Then it occurred to Jack that he had never seen a city like this before in any of his history lessons. It looked part ancient Greek, part middle-eastern, part South American, and part south-east Asian. Like a predecessor of all the great cultures' architectural designs he had ever studied. Elegant and overwhelming...

A great palace at the far end of the city gradually came into Jack's view, unveiled by the passing towers. Its structure was built under two kneeling giant statues who both held up a giant globe above the city. The statues were taller than all the other towers in the city and the globe itself—the highest pinnacle—appeared to be made of glass or crystal. It was transparent and winked brightly against the sun. One statue was a man and the other a woman, although she seemed slightly different from her counterpart, almost other worldly.

An eagle wheeled into Jack's view; its cry echoing off of the city walls. With a beat of its great wings the enormous bird circled him twice then flew away, heading west towards one of the distant mountains beyond the city. Jack tried to give chase but he felt himself being drawn towards the palace. He had no control over the direction he was moving.

_Atlantis_. A voice suddenly appeared in his mind. It was Jack's father. _The capital city-state of Lemuria. A glimpse into this world's ancient past. It is here that you must go my son._

"Father!" Jack cried into the wind. His arms flailing to turn himself about and find the speaker.

_This is where events changed our history forever._ Jack's father seemed oblivious to his attempts to communicate with him and Jack quickly assumed that this was a prerecorded telepathic message. There would be no communication between them. _A war that would end us all_. _A war against the Rama Empire to the east. Their theft of the Crown of Dreams would be the key to our undoing. The Crown of Dreams is a powerful device. Once kept in Atlantis' High Palace, in the Chamber of Sleep beneath the statues of the World Bearers; now it is hidden. You must find it my son. Find it and destroy it. There is, however, only one man who can help you do that. A friend of mine who saved many of our people from extinction._ A hard-jawed, stern face appeared in the sky above him; laces of light tracing its outline like a constellation. A deep scar down his left cheek to the tip of his chin stood out as his most defining feature. _Aramathaeus—he will come for you. Trust him as you would me. Trust him to unlock the memories I have left deep within your subconsciousness. Trust him..._

Then Jack heard a deep rumbling, followed by explosions like canon fire fill the crisp, morning air. The face vanished under the glare of the sun, suddenly blinking through the clouds, and the young man realised that he had stopped moving. He turned towards the sound and spied one of the bird-shaped aircrafts he had seen earlier shoot off of an arrow-shaped runway, leaving a streak of light behind them. The thing had wide wings like the eagle that had flown by and there were glass domes where the eyes should be. Cockpits for its pilot, perhaps.

The bird-ship flew around a nearby tower before wheeling towards him. Jack froze in awe. To see a modern flying machine used by an ancient civilisation seemed outlandish, impossible. Then as it got closer to him the awe turned to fear when he noticed the ship wasn't changing course or slowing down.

He couldn't move. Jack thrashed his body about in a futile attempt to get out of the bird-ship's path. Then before he could scream it flew right into him and everything went black.

"Jack!" A familiar voice exploded out of the engines of the bird-ship. "Class is over, man."

"Huh?" Jack said to the vague outline of a person standing over him. The mist of his dream was evaporating to reveal the lecture theatre once more.

"You slept through Professor Windgate's entire lecture," a sandy-blonde haired teenager with an eyebrow ring said to him from the neighboring table; he was putting his textbooks in his bag. "That's a first. Geez man, you look dead."

His name was Caleb and he was Jack's best friend.

"Oh, Caleb," Jack replied, wiping the sleep out of his eyes and folding his arms on his table so he could bury his head between them again. "I feel it. Late night."

"Oh right." Caleb spoke in his usual, slightly bored tone. He spared a moment from his book packing to wink at a passing girl. "Hey, Laura."

The girl––whose text books were almost sliding out from under her grasp––glared indignantly at him, then scurried off with a group of her whispering friends.

"Late nights? You never have those. What's up with that?" Caleb attempted to sound interested whilst he smiled brashly at the group of girls.

"Well, I––" Jack lifted his head up to answer his rambunctious friend, but decided against it. "I don't know. Bad dreams, I guess."

"Dude," Caleb laughed, grabbing Jack by the shoulder and pulling him to stand up. "Enough of the nightmares. Your dad isn't a zombie, and your mum won't be getting cybernetic legs to become a cyborg. You need to chill."

Jack stood up with his friend's grip still on his shoulder, pocketed his recorder and picked up his bag. "Those were when we were in the ninth grade, man. These dreams are different."

"How different? I'm sure they're no different then when you found out Santa Claus wasn't real."

"Caleb. Seriously."

"Okay, okay," his friend laughed, then pulled his smile down with his fingers to show a straight face. "Seriously—what?"

"They have to do with my dad, but it is as if he is trying to send me a message. You know, from the other side."

"Man, what have you been smoking?"

"I'm telling you the truth, Caleb. I can't explain it. It feels so... real. I mean, it is like he is trying to communicate. But, I guess its mingled in with all these strange scenarios and places—"

"What places?"

"Ah, you don't want to know."

"Try me. You actually have me interested now. And you know how hard that is with me. I am never interested in anything."

Another cute girl passed by, catching their attention.

"Unless its her," Caleb said loudly so she could here. Jack shook his head. The girl smiled and kept walking.

"See, that's so typically you."

"What? What is?" Caleb feigned shock.

"You're too into yourself and too superficial to really want to know what's really going on. You want the quick fix, the next big party. The next hot girl. I can't take you seriously half the time. If ever."

"Dude, you're breaking my heart."

Jack turned to leave.

"Okay. Okay! I'm sorry. Tell me everything."

Jack turned and faced his best friend. They'd known each other since kindergarten. They'd been through everything together: school, first girlfriends, and more. Best friends until the end, they had once said. Jack hung his head down as if in thought. His eyes glowed a soft white and his mind projected into Caleb's thoughts, searching for his feelings. He was telling the truth.

"You know," Jack smiled, blinking the white light away and looking up to face Caleb again. "You're the only one who can say my dad is a zombie and mum is a cyborg and get away with it."

"Hey," Caleb said in his cocky, charming voice. "Its me."

Both teenagers laughed.

"Going somewhere Mr Denison," Professor Windgate said to Caleb as they were about to walk out of the lecture theatre. They were the last to leave.

"Mr Windgate, erm, I mean, Professor Windgate," Caleb fumbled his words and turned to face the white-haired man who was still standing behind the podium. "That assignment, right?"

"Yes," the old man replied in his monotone, unamused voice. "That assignment. It is two weeks late, Mr Denison. When can I expect that paper on my desk?"

"Um, tomorrow! I promise, first thing tomorrow morning. I will be here before the crack of dawn. Before the cleaners get here even. And the assignment will be the best thesis you have ever read."

The professor raised an eyebrow.

"Well, not as great as any thesis you have ever written. But you will love it. I promise. Absolutely love it."

With each empty-promise and flattering word, Jack and Caleb edged their way towards the door.

"Mine—" Jack chimed in.

"Your assignment on ancient architecture was brilliant, Mr Grey. I have a feeling you will be chosen for post-studies after your graduation."

"Thank you sir."

Professor Windgate nodded. "Both of you lads have a good day. I'll be sure to ask the cleaners in the morning if Mr Denison found my locked office okay."

Both friends laughed and hurried through the door and out of the theatre.

"That's freaky!" Caleb half-shouted.

Jack hushed his friend. "Dude, keep it down. I don't want people to think I'm weird."

"I already think you're weird," the sandy-blonde teenager laughed. "That's why I'm friends with you. You get my sense of humour."

They were standing at a bus stop in front of the university. The evening sun was a melting orange blur over the rooftops of the town. "But seriously," Caleb continued, "You have been obsessing over your ancient history assignment for months. Reading all those books on old architecture has really affected your noggin."

"Its not the assignment."

"I'm telling you man, you should have taken architecture or engineering instead of history and art. You love buildings. An unnatural love for buildings."

"Its not that. I mean seriously, who dreams of Atlantis and their dead father talking to them. Atlantis of all things! A mythological city!"

"Keep your geek-talk down," Caleb said, eying a couple of girls sitting on the bus bench. One of them—a blonde girl from his Music History class—gave him a cheeky look over her textbook. "Any mention of fantastic locations or magical creatures will ruin my reputation."

"I thought you said you like my weirdness."

"In small doses."

"Will you be serious for just one second. Geez, its like I'm talking to myself."

"So this," Caleb lowered his voice, "Atlantis... why did your father want you to go there anyway? I mean, if we believe the myths and legends, wasn't Atlantis sunk? You would have to go under the sea to find it, which I've heard hundreds of people have already tried."

"I don't know."

The bus suddenly pulled up and the conversation of Jack's dreams came to an end.

"Well, this is me," Caleb said jokingly in a girly voice, reaching in for a kiss.

"I'll catch you tomorrow," Jack laughed, fending his friend off.

"See you later, man. Ciao!"

Caleb stepped onto the bus and began chatting up the girls who were getting onboard, too. Jack laughed softly to himself and waved to his friend, watching the bus lurch off down the road.

Jack heard a muffled buzz sound from his pocket and pulled his mobile phone out, looking at the time.

_6:30 PM_.

A new text message read: _Okay. Well call me if you change your mind. Mum is worried you won't make it in time for dinner before I have to go. Catch you soon, bro_. It was from Rowan. Jack had sent a message to his half-brother earlier in the day, asking him not to pick him up after he'd finished uni as he wanted to walk home. He wanted thinking time, and lots of it.

The walk home was about twenty minutes. Sighing, he started to walk.

Across the road, hiding under the shadow of a crop of trees, stood a young woman. Her eyes were glowing white in the encroaching dark of night and her thoughts were projected outwards in search of danger.

Layla started to follow Jack.

**CHAPTER 4: A MYSTERIOUS MEETING**

_Atlantis_. Jack contemplated to himself as he strolled along the lonesome stretch of Kingfisher Street, which buttressed Merchant Park. The night was warm; and its heavy darkness was pierced by a starry sky, and an evenly spaced column of street lights that stood tall like silent sentinels, keeping watch against unseen enemies. _What does that ancient city have to do with my father? And how does he know so much about its history? It sounded like he had lived there or something. Impossible! That would have been so long ago. But... those images were so vivid, so real, so—_

A sudden rustling in a nearby hedge garden—that marked Merchant Park's boundary—drew Jack's attention from his conflicted thoughts. He paused, and turned his head in the direction of the sound. Nothing. The stillness of the night was deafening.

Shrugging, Jack kept walking. _Its not like anyone could have lived that long anyway. Or could they? And who is Aramathaeus? Another Atlantean like dad?_ Jack realised he couldn't completely rule out the impossible; his abilities of reading minds, talking with thoughts, and levitating objects would seem just as equally bizarre and inconceivable to any ordinary person. No, as much as his logic struggled to accept it, he had to keep an open mind. He had to decipher the messages and images, and not have preconceived judgments. Perhaps some research was also in order. Jack enjoyed research. Reading and uncovering mysteries always fascinated him. And so did ancient—and in this case _alien_ —architecture; his favorites being the egyptian pyramids and stone henge. Perhaps there was something that someone had written about the presumed location of Atlantis, and about why it had sunk, which could help him. Something about this Crown of Dreams written in a tome of forgotten lore. This device that could destroy the world...

Jack let that thought drift away as passing car lights broke his concentration. There was a blaring horn accompanied by wild jeering from the car's occupants, then silence again as the revellers were swallowed into the night behind him. Jack kept his head down and continued his plodding pace.

Another thing that had been nagging at him: why was he having these dreams? What was triggering them? They appeared to be pre-recorded messages from his father that had been buried deep within his subconsciousness, and now for some mysterious reason they were surfacing at seemingly random times.

Caleb had said it was something to do with Jack's obsession with his history assignment—an culmination of all the books he had read, finally seeping into and manipulating his dreams. Making him mad. Caleb couldn't and wouldn't believe them as messages from beyond the grave. That was all supernatural mumbo jumbo to the teenager who was—regardless of his wild spirit—a grounded, logical thinker. Caleb would need to see a miracle up close and personal before he would finally agree to its fallibility.

Jack had never told Caleb of his and his siblings' powers. It was one of his biggest secrets that even his best friend was not privy too. It wasn't that Jack didn't trust Caleb; he simply felt that if he told him it would somehow destroy their long-standing friendship. It would scare him away, or somehow—like his mother—put him in danger.

There were times he wanted to tell Caleb. Like the time he prevented the impetuous friend from falling off of his top bunk bed one night when they were having a sleep over. Caleb had tumbled off the bed when he was play-wrestling with Jack. He had always been the strongest one of the two; but this one time Jack had somehow got the upper hand. It was an accident. Before Caleb hit the wooden floorboards below, Jack managed to slow his friend's impact with his mind, and drop him lightly upon a rug. Jack's reasoning was that Caleb was a bit disorientated from a mock sleeper-hold he had given him earlier. Caleb nodded in acceptance, but Jack knew he didn't truly believe it.

Also, on more than one occasion Jack had answered questions Caleb was about to ask. This had left a strange vibe between them when it happened. Jack would try to smooth it over later by saying it was because they knew each other so well, and he was merely preempting what he felt Caleb would naturally say or ask. This too was accepted without questions. But Jack could read his friend's thoughts and could hear the unsaid doubts in his mind. Luckily for Jack, Caleb easily forgot—or appeared to forget—these incidents due to his flippant nature.

"If only I could tell someone," he found himself saying out loud.

_You know you can't do that_. An unfamiliar voice suddenly spoke in his mind. _You would risk everything, including the people you love._

Jack froze, his fear seizing him like a giant fist. _Who said that?_ He replied telepathically, slowly turning back to the hedge row.

The street light he stood under illuminated only a small diameter of space around him, separating him from the patchwork of shadows that silhouetted the park beyond. He was blind to the speaker whose voice appeared to come from all directions. _Who is it?_

_My name is Mathias Cane_. The voice in his head was male and much older than him. _Do not fear me, Jack. I am not here to harm you in anyway. Quite the opposite actually._

Jack closed and re-opened his eyes; the white light glimmering forth excitedly. He felt the swell of psychic power well up inside of him, as if Mathias' very presence was setting it off. Both their energies feeding off each other. Melding together in a dance of to-and-fro and back-and-forth. A familiar connection.

A tall man suddenly stepped out of the shadows and stood in the street light's radiance. In the harsh overhead lighting he look menacing. He was bald with a sharp black and white peppered beard lining a hard jaw. However his strongest and unnerving feature was a long scar that connected his left cheek to the tip of his chin. It looked like a battle-scar that had almost killed him in some old fight. _The face from my dream!_ his thoughts raced. As the shadows peeled back against the light, Jack noticed that Mathias was also well built; his muscular form barely restrained by a simple black tee shirt; old, tattered jeans; and a worn, high-collared combat jacket. He looked very much like an army general trying to look like a civilian. His eyes were also glowing white like Jack's; but beneath the aura the teenager could see storm-grey pupils that were silently fierce, yet melancholy. Two emotional facets contradicting each other behind a mysterious exterior of intimidating stature.

Mathias attempted to smile.

"Hello, Jack Grey," the bald man spoke in a deep voice, and held out a hand in welcome. "I knew your father, Thomas."

Jack's heart leap at the mention of his father, and his fear dissipated. Remembering that his father said he could trust this man, he stepped forward and reached to shake the giant's hand. It was strong; but there was no malice in its grip.

"I-I saw you in a dream" Jack said, his white glowing eyes searching Mathias' mind. However his intrusion was blocked. There was a wall before his thoughts like a cliff standing firm against the oncoming waves of the sea. "How do you know my father?"

"We fought in a war together," Mathias replied with a stoic expression that did not give away any of his emotions. "A long time ago, before your time. Before any of this." The last comment was followed with a wave of both his hands, as if indicating everything around him. It was very strange, and very enigmatic. "Now, you tell me something, Jack. Do you find you can no longer dream at night without hearing your father?"

Emotions were starting to stir wildly within him, but Jack simply nodded.

"You are not going mad," the bald man replied, "You are seeing what is called a memory-message. It was implanted in your mind when you were only a baby. Your father knew this time would come, so he wanted you to be prepared. Wanted you to know the truth."

"What truth?" Jack asked almost demanding.

Mathias did not answer at first. Then after a moment of glancing about as if looking for someone amongst the trees and street lights, he turned and started to walk back towards the park. "Come with me," he said over his shoulder. "Let us talk, away from prying eyes."

Jack swallowed down his apprehension, then stepped out of the street light's radiance and into the embracing arms of the night.

Mathias guided the teenager to two hedges that met at the base of a large oak tree. Sidling around it's girth, they stepped out onto an open lawn beneath a leafy canopy, which was punctured by streams of moonlight. Their glowing eyes that gave them their strong night-vision appeared like will-o'-the-wisps in the dark; ghostly spirit-lights from beyond the mortal realm.

"The truth of who you really are," Mathias said, turning to face the teenager. "And why who you are has currently put you and your family in danger. There are people looking for you, Jack. People with not so pleasant intentions." He stood towering over Jack like one of the oak trees; tall, ancient and imposing. His stern face revealed only by the spill of the light from his eyes.

"What do they want from me?" Jack asked in a voice that was mixed with fear and anger. The yearning to know who he was and why he was different from everybody else was suddenly drowned out by his protectiveness for his family. "I am no one. Nothing. I don't pose a threat to anyone. Just ask my friend Caleb—"

"You are very important, Jack," Mathias said, ignoring the teenager's self-depreciation. "You and your siblings are the children of a great man. I was sent—as one of your father's last wishes—to protect you and reveal to you the truth of your powers. How to hone them, how to use them to the best of your ability to protect the ones you love. You have a greater destiny than the life you currently live."

"My destiny is to look after my family," Jack suddenly replied defensively. Years of silent resilience finally breaking down like the overflown wall of a dam. "My father didn't seem to take that into consideration when he was planning out my destiny, did he? Didn't consider that I would have to replace him one day and look after my brother and sister. To look after mum. She has suffered the most out of all of us." The comments were biting, and the teenager did not flinch when saying them. "How come he never visited her in her dreams? Never comforted her?"

"I apologise," Mathias replied, his storm-grey pupils solidifying through the white light. The sadness in them was only fleeting. "I did not mean to trivialise your family. And I cannot tell you what messages Thomas left for Eleanor. He cared for her very deeply. And his untimely death—"

Jack turned his back on the bald man, hiding his anger and despair.

"I knew Eleanor too," Mathias continued. "She was a good friend. That is why it pains me to keep such secrets from her. If she knew what I am about to tell you she would think I was insane. She would never let you go. And it would put her life at risk."

Shoulders slumped, Jack released a soft sigh into the still night. His world seem to be spinning out of control again, and this time he could barely keep it from toppling over.

"There is no shame in your anger. Your convictions." Mathias' voice was like a distant storm, coming from all sides.

Jack slowly turned back to face him. "Who are you? I mean, my father told me in a dream, your name is so vague it feels like it was years ago, that part anyway."

"I am a soldier of Atlantis, and my True Name is Aramathaeus Sepharam. I am the last of the Gaianar, and I have come from the past. A past far removed from the history books you have read. You have powers, Jack. Powers from a race of men and women who died out thousands and thousands of years ago. Destroyed by a great catastrophe we call the Fall, which you call the Great Flood, and other things besides. I, and many others, are all that are left in this present time, and _you_ and your siblings are the children of one. Thomas Grey you knew him as. However, his true name is Toram Aradas, High Captain of Atlantis. His birth land is a place you call the Isle of Avalon in myths and legends. It is one of ten lands that form the great Empire of Lemuria. The others being: the Isle of Atlantis, Thule, Nysa, Argadnel, Hyperborea, Aeaea, Vlaenderen, Hy-Bresail, and Argyre. This collection of nations were at constant internal war with each other for dominance of the High Thrown; as well as with the Osirian Empire and the Rama Empire to the east. All real places, whose historical existence has been fragmented by the great stretch of time, and filtered down into various fairy tales and adopted by different cultures. They are the lost kingdoms of a bygone era. And I am an emissary from them."

Jack was lost in thought of the imagery Mathias' words had conjured up. Places he had only read about in mythology, pseudo-history and science fiction books. Myths and legends was what his giant companion had said, and the teenager couldn't help but agree.

"I am having a hard time believing all of this," Jack finally said. "I mean, I decided to keep an open mind, and to accept all possibilities. Like, perhaps my siblings and I were some government experiments. But time travel? Advanced civilisations that existed before recorded history? It all seems impossible."

"Impossible to believe; but true nonetheless," the other replied with firm reasoning in his voice. His eyes held a conviction that did not reflect the doubt in Jack's own eyes. "Think of the dreams of Atlantis your father left you with. They are real. A 'snapshot' if you will of a great city that once was the envy of the world. Now buried deep under the ocean. Hopefully never to be found again in this modern age."

Jack's curiosity gradually tore away at his skepticism. "Why do you say that?"

"There are some secrets that are better left buried," Mathias said grimly. "And it is one of these secrets that your father hoped would be kept by all of us. Those who survived the Fall. Those who used the Rising Hope—a time traveling machine—to travel to this modern age. A secret about the Crown of Dreams that doomed my people."

Jack's eyes flickered in recognition of the Crown.

Mathias continued without hesitation, using Jack's charge of finding the Crown that Thomas had bound to the teenager as a leverage to understanding his plea. "Now dark forces are rising to find this device. They have only vain ambitions and ill intent for its use. If they find it, the world you know will be at the brink of utter destruction. The past revisited by fate's tempted hand. You are the key to preventing this from happening, Jack. Your father before you tried to stop it once and failed. But his son has given us another chance. So, I am beseeching your help, if you will give it."

Jack closed his eyes and inhaled deeply the night air, which had suddenly been stirred up by a cool wind. The memory of Atlantis flashed before him. Its far-reaching shores, its lofty towers...

You must find it my son. Find it and destroy it before it is too late...

He opened his eyes and exhaled. The images blew away with his breath into the darkness of the park.

"Tell me everything," he said, his fear gone and his thoughts clear.

Mathias smiled and said, "I think before I continue I should introduce you to some colleagues of mine."

Jack raised an eyebrow.

"Although I can fight my own battles," Mathias said with stoic confidence, "I did not come alone. I have brought along some young Atlantean soldiers who I trust with my life. I hope you will one day learn to as well."

"A touching sentiment," a cold voice suddenly cut through the night breeze like a knife. Jack looked passed Mathias' left shoulder in the direction of the speaker, his white-lit eyes discerning a hooded silhouette stepping out from behind a tree. "Notice how he didn't use the word 'friends'. I suppose it could be said that old Mathias here has learned to tolerate us the most out of the other survivors."

"This outspoken young man is Erin," Mathias said, breaking his grasp on Jack's shoulder to point at the approaching figure behind him. "He is of Nysaean heritage, and what you would call an assassin, or Samatar in Lemurian. His True Name is Erinaeus Vith'Daethar."

"The Samatar are quick and deadly," the pale-faced man grinned darkly at Jack as he stepped into a shaft of moonlight that illuminated him. His eyes were still covered by his leather Jacket's hood, but his teeth were glistening white like pearls. "Masters of intelligence, reconnaissance, espionage, sabotage... never to be trifled with." There was an unsubtle warning in his last comment that was aimed at the teenager. "But, a friend to my friends, of course."

Erin finally pulled back his hood, revealing straight, black hair and black eyes as deep and fathomless as the night. His features were sharp like broken glass and his skin as pale as porcelain. He looked to be in his early twenties and as ruthless as his words.

Jack shivered and took a step back as the dark, fast-moving eyes of the newcomer bore deep into his, making him feel uncomfortable. They were intelligent and calculating; and under their gaze he felt as if all his secrets were suddenly revealed, all his truths laid bare. Jack dreaded the thought of attempting to read this one's mind, and suspected there were darker secrets there that were buried far deeper than his own.

A hand snaked out of Erin's Jacket pocket faster than Jack could blink and extended to the intimidated teenager, who fearfully took it, half expecting to lose his own to a concealed blade. When their fingers clasped, Jack felt the other's cold, clammy skin tighten like a vice, revealing an unexpected strength from the skinny man.

"You can call me Cloak." The assassin's voice was almost a whisper lost in the wind. "We'll see how long you last. We'll see if you are as tough as your old man."

"That's enough, Erin," Mathias said in his deep, commanding voice. "We don't want to scare the lad."

"Fear is a good way of weeding out the boys from the men, I always say," Cloak laughed darkly, and walked over to stand on Mathias' right side.

"Nysaeans?" Jack finally managed to speak, watching the assassin glide quietly across the lawn. He then turned to Mathias inquisitively. "From Nysa? One of nations of Lemuria, right?"

"The boy is a bit slow," Cloak said in a matter-of-fact, pulling his hood back on. "Are you sure he is the one?"

Jack frowned at the being called ʻthe boy.' He was a young man, undoubtably.

Mathias threw a threatening glance at the assassin, which silenced him. He looked back at Jack and nodded. "Yes. He is from that land. It is a dark and foreboding place that took hundreds of years—and violent wars—to unite with the rest of the Lemurian Empire. A cruel and unforgiving land that is always raining. And the people are a savage and ruthless race—"

"I resent _all_ of that," Cloak dared to interrupt.

"—But once you have proven yourself in combat along side one, and shown blood-binding friendship, then they remain loyal and committed."

Cloak kept his head downcast, hiding any facial reactions to Mathias' words.

"Just be warned," the giant said with a slight smile. "They disdain charity."

"I've lived this long without it, haven't I?" Cloak hissed.

"That is debatable," Mathias laughed softly.

There was a sudden rustling of leaves and cracking of branches behind Jack, and the teenager spun around to find two shadows moving through the hedges towards him. His night-vision could pick out scant details of a girl and man, but nothing more. Not knowing what to expect, he moved closer to Mathias.

"Sorry we're late," a girl's voice came from the smaller of the shadows. "Will and I were backtracking Kingfisher Street to make sure Jack wasn't being followed."

When they were close enough, Jack's vision revealed a brown-haired girl with bright green eyes, who looked no older than him; and a blonde-haired man who looked a little older than Cloak. The young man was smiling, and his blue eyes were glistening like precious stones. He was strong and handsome, and Jack wondered instantly if there was something between him and the girl.

"Hello Cloak!" the man Jack assumed was Will called to the brooding Nysaean with a friendly wave. "Missed me?"

"Do you want an honest answer that might hurt your feelings?"

Ignoring Cloak's sardonic remark, the newcomer strode up to Jack, while the girl stood back watching the teenager curiously, and said, "I am Will! My True Name is Wilath Khaa'telion; but Will is fine. I suppose your custom is to shake hands..."

Jack shook Will's strong hand and noticed a strange shaped, silver bracelet divided by an eagle's head, encircling his thick, tanned wrist. Jack looked up and reflected his infectious smile. "Hello, Will. I'm Jack Grey, as you probably already know."

Before Will could respond, the girl quickly approached, and gently pushed him aside, reaching out her own hand. "I am Laela Athesphar—but Layla is fine by me. I believe you spell my Modern Name with a y." Her voice was intense, and her green eyes shimmered a soft-white like Jack's. "I've been watching you all day. A tiring job really. Did you know that you snore during your lectures. Not a good habit. Also, picking at your thumbs only gives you callouses. To stress less, eat some fruit."

"W-what?" Jack was flabbergasted. Had this girl been watching him all day? Heard everything he said, every little thought he'd thought?

_Yep_. She said to him telepathically.

Jack stopped thinking, and reached forward and grabbed Layla's hand. It was soft and warm. Her green eyes hypnotic and welcoming. Her subtle smile friendly and genuine. She appeared to be an open book; the complete opposite of Mathias and Cloak. What you saw is what you got. A girl who didn't like playing games. Someone who was easy to get a long with, but took her work seriously. His assumptions; but he was always good at reading first impressions. Jack felt already that he was going to like her. A lot.

_Have I passed your test?_ She said to him. _Am I up to the standards of Thomas' son? I hope so. Otherwise this trip is going to be a long one._

She winked.

Jack laughed.

**CHAPTER 5: THE PAST UNVEILED**

"Where will this trip be taking us?" Jack asked Mathias, "My father told me in my dream that I have to find Atlantis—"

"Pfft" Cloak scoffed in his raspy voice. "You don't need to do anything. Just share us your memories of the location of the Crown, and then we'll be on our way."

"We can't do that, old friend," Mathias said to the Nysaean lurking over his shoulder. "His genetic-memories from his father are so deeply embedded, and he has never used his powers to retrieve them before—he will need our help."

"Old friend?" Jack looked from Mathias and Cloak. "Erin looks no older than twenty-one."

"Nysaeans look younger than they actually are," Layla offered with an amused smile. "You have a lot to learn."

"How old is he, then?" Jack whispered behind his hand to the girl.

"Forty one."

"No way!" Jack gasped. He then quickly raised a brow at Layla and opened his mouth to speak.

"I'm twenty three," she laughed at his worried face. "That is considered young by our standards—you're still a child until you reach thirty. Only _then_ you are called a young adult. We live longer than your people, Jack. Sometimes as long as two hundred years."

Jack's eyes grew wide. "Two hundred years!"

Mathias turned his attention back to the teenager. "To answer your question, Jack: yes there is a journey you are expected to take with us to the city of Atlantis. We need a memory of yours to find the Crown of Dreams. Your father left what we call a genetic-memory in your mind, of where he last saw the crown. That memory will be our psychic map, if you will."

"But how? Even if what you saying is true, I don't know how to conjure up such memories."

"You will learn in time," the war-veteran said in a patient tone. "There is much to show you. How to summon your power in ways you did not even consider."

"Tell me about my father and the crown," Jack asked, jumping on what little information of his father's deeds were mentioned. "Did he try and destroy it?"

Mathias nodded. "Yes, a long time ago he attempted to destroy the Crown to prevent a tyrant from using it against Atlantis... and the world. Emperor Kha'ash II of Rama had lay sieged on our city and had killed many of our people, including Emperor, Amnaeus. Your father tried to rescue the Crown from Amnaeus dead body, but Kha'ash II beat him to it. The Ramaean's power was immense, but his sanity broke under the Crown's great weight, causing him to destroy the world. He pulled a falling star out of the sky and brought it down upon us. The Crown was never recovered. Luckily, myself and a few others saved your father. We managed to use the Rising Hope to leave our time before the waves covered the world in a terrible flood. We escaped the Fall."

Jack listened in awe, and when the bald man finished, his eyes moved from Mathias to the others, noticing their faces were all solemn and all lost in far away memories of their own individual experiences.

"You haven't told me everything yet," Jack finally said, and felt all their eyes instantly on him. "Who is chasing me? And who else wants the Crown of Dreams?"

"Kaelan," Layla spat the name as if it were salt in her mouth. She then leaned into Will, who held her close. Jack felt a lead weight in his stomach.

"He was once a friend of mine... and your father's," Mathias added. "He fought along side us during the war against the Rama Empire. Bled with us. Then, when we made it to this future, he wanted Thomas to find the Crown. He knew it was buried somewhere in the Atlantic ocean, somewhere in the deepest, darkest parts, wiped from the ancestral memories of mankind. Kaelan knew that anyone with a powerful artefact like the crown could rule the world. But Thomas didn't want that. He wanted the weapon to lay where it lay. Hoping the weight of the world and its shifting plates would have crushed it to pieces long ago. But he knew, deep in his heart it was still there.

"At first Kaelan attempted to persuade him with images of glory. Explaining how ruling a world that had not traveled down the path of psychic technology would be easily conquered with the Crown of Dreams. It was a device that could harvest the very psychic fields generated in each individual, and concentrate them into a single force. The single purpose of its wielder. When Thomas refused, Kaelan used physical threats. Although Thomas was our leader, Kaelan's crazed dreams of world domination had almost half of the surviving Atlanteans on his side. They wanted to reclaim their lost power. They wanted back a world they saw as rightfully theirs. Kaelan looked down on modern man and woman. Saw how they lived, and how they were consumed with material objects. They had grown weak in mind and body, and now worshiped wealth. They had forgotten the Old Gods who had made them, who had crafted them in their own likeness. I suppose my fellow Lemurians wanted to bring back what they felt was righteous and true. The old days. A glorious Renaissance of the mind. Nice dreams with honourable ambitions; but all doomed to follow the same path.

"Anyway, there was a brief war between the factions and Thomas' side won. I was his general in that war. I was forced to slaughter my own people in a fight that should never have been. When it was over, Kaelan and his rebels disappeared into the world. They melted into the population and vanished. However, they weren't completely destroyed; we knew they were only licking their wounds and regrouping for another war. A war we might not win the second time around. One day they would come for us again, and we had to be ready.

"So it was that we began to build ourselves our own little society. We left our first home, the Fallen City of Avalon in Europe, which was half destroyed by the war, and traveled east. There we resurrected from the ashes of the Library of Alexandria in Egypt a new bastion of knowledge. We kept its ancient name, and began filling its archives with uncovered artefacts from our bygone era. Technologies that this world had not yet seen. With knowledge of their components we could restore them, and re-use them again. Strange, unidentifiable trinkets to the archeological community were in fact the cogs and wheels of our great machines. Everything was built underground, and the library was merely the portal to our underground city.

"After a time, the Library of Alexandria was simply known as "The Library", which was our public name—so as not to draw suspicion—and our home for the next several decades.

"It was after The Library was fully completed that Thomas handed the leadership of the Lore Keepers—as we call ourselves—to the only Atlantean politician to survive the catastrophe: Oreus Isaleph. The learned man, who adopted the modern name Oswald, had a compassionate heart and strived for justice. Under his rulership, The Library began to prosper and expand its influences out of Egypt into Europe and the rest of the world. The Lemurians were allowed to mingle and befriend the modern people, but were restrained from revealing their true identity. It was hard at times, seeing as most of our people are quite tall, and our psychic abilities are not practiced in any of your societies. But we gradually familiarised ourselves with the world's languages, nations, and cultural colloquialisms that we seemed to blend in seamlessly.

"We even began to take modern people as our partners, and started families with them. Those we trusted, those we knew would not betray our greatest secrets. And if we were mistaken, and if they did break our sacred trust, their memories were swiftly erased, or false ones were implanted to cause confusion and hide our trail. The ones we let into our world we called Lore-kin, 'the kin of the Lore Keepers'."

"Why wasn't my mother let into this secret world?" Jack demanded, his frustration for his family's borderline poverty surfacing. "Why wasn't she a lore-kin?"

"Thomas left before all of this began to happen," Mathias replied, his storm-grey eyes holding the teenager's gaze steadily. "One night when I came to visit your father's chambers, he was gone. He left me a note saying that he had left for a country he had read about that lay beyond the ocean. He wanted to get away from his past. He didn't want his very presence jeopardising The Library and the remnants of his people. Thomas told me that I was his last friend, and that we would one day speak again."

Jack hung on every word Mathias said, as if every scrap of information about his father and his past held its own weight in gold.

"It was eighteen years ago," Mathias continued. "Thomas came to me first in a dream. He told me where to go and how to find him. And when we met it was like old times. He had grown so much from the brash soldier I once knew. He looked happier, healthier... freer. There was a new light in his eyes. I didn't understand it until he took me to his home and introduced me to a young Eleanor and a baby boy in her arms. You Jack. The baby boy was you."

Jack's eyes began to well with tears; but he held them at bay and kept his resolve.

"They had met by chance it seemed. He had taken up the inconspicuous job of a gardener—Thomas always enjoyed tending to plants back in Atlantis, always had a 'green thumb' as your people call it—and was hired by your mother's parents to maintain their large gardens. It was a Sunday afternoon, he told me, when he met Eleanor at a lunch on their front lawn. He told me that the first day he saw her, he knew that he could never go back."

Layla was watching Jack, and he could sense it. Feel her taking in all his reactions to Mathias' tale. Wanting to know him more; the depth of his character. His feelings towards his father, perhaps. Evidently she had known Thomas.

Will seemed lost in his own thoughts. His left hand idling twisting the strange bracelet around his wrist, and occasionally sparing a glance at Mathias.

Cloak was an unreadable shadow who appeared to blend into the darkness of the trees around them. A silent watcher who did not seem to relate to the emotions Jack was feeling. Distant.

"I left then, and did not attempt to contact him. It was only two years ago that I received a letter from Thomas—a very mysterious letter that hinted at something he had discovered. Something buried in a forest not far from where he lived. So I came to visit him. In the time I had been away he had fathered two more children: James and Alora. Both of whom I never met.

"The ancient Ramaean artefact Thomas had discovered was akin to a thing that your historical records call the Antikythera Mechanism; a device that was first discovered in the early nineteen hundreds off the Greek island of Antikythera. Archeologists claim it was the first analog computer, however its original purpose was far from that. Before the Last War during the Fall, the Rama Empire developed a technology called the Akashic Eye. Its purpose was to communicate over great distances, and to read the minds and memories of people. It could unravel the memories of a relative generations back, and project it into physical space; almost like a primitive hologram. The Antikythera Mechanism was merely one part of this machine, and the pieces that Thomas found in the woods was the rest of it.

"Through means unknown to myself, Thomas somehow got his hands on the Antikythera Mechanism from its museum and rebuilt the Akashic Eye, making it fully operational. When he knew it worked, realisation dawned on him, and he was afraid of Kaelan getting his hands on it. If the rebel managed to obtain it, it would mean that Thomas' memory of the location of the Crown of Dreams, which his children genetically shared as well, would be accessible to him. He didn't want that to happen; but at the same time he didn't know if he could destroy the ocular-device. He wanted me to take it to the Library in Egypt. To keep it there. Safe. Hidden.

"Under strict orders by Oreus to keep its existence a secret, I took the Akashic Eye from Thomas and attempted to return it to the Library without incident. Unfortunately I had been followed. Somehow, someone knew where I was going; who I was visiting; and why I was there. To cut a long story short, Thomas and I were attacked on our way out of the town of Haleton—we were visiting a friend of his, a fellow lore-kin—to his secret house in the Southlake woods. His own private dwelling place away from his normal life, where he stored his own relics from a past he could not fully escape."

Jack gasped at the mention of a secret house his father had hidden from his family. Thomas had told him on many occasions he was going on a business trip out of town, and Jack now wondered if this secret house was where he had now gone.

"We were ambushed by the rebel Atlanteans called the Dark Tide, and Kaelan was leading them. He did this—" Mathias pointed at the vicious scar that marred his left cheek, "—and almost killed your father. During the fight, Kaelan managed to get the Akashic Eye off of me. Something I still feel a great responsibility for even now."

"It wasn't your fault," Will ventured to say, "you did the best you could—" But the rest of his protest died against Mathias' upheld hand for silence.

"I could have done better," the war-veteran rebuked bitterly. "It was something I should have prevented."

No one spoke.

"In the struggle," Mathias continued, "Thomas and I activated a Gate—a powerful portal, which Thomas had salvaged from a sunken ruin years earlier. He had linked it to your home in Willow, Jack, hiding it inside the old shed in the backyard. His plan was for us to escape there and to destroy the Gate behind us.

"It was while we were rigging the Gate that Kaelan and some of his men attacked at full strength, trying to fight their way through. Kaelan knew that he would find you and your family on the other side. He had seen the family photos on the walls; he knew the significance of the house in the woods and the secrets it was suppose to hide. He had been Thomas' friend for many years, so he had a deeper understanding of how the man thought. Kaelan only needed one of Thomas' children to use the Akashic Eye on and then he would know the whereabouts of the Crown.

"We could not let that happen. Thomas fended off the attackers and I armed the bomb. Timing was crucial, for we had to escape through the Gate and close it behind us just before the bomb exploded. That way there would be no way of Kaelan tracking us back to your house. To the shed that hid the second Gate—"

"The fire in the shed!" Jack said loudly, remembering the fire that almost burned down his home.

Mathias nodded. "Your father was knocked unconscious and I had to drag him to the Gate. This caused a delay in the plan, which subsequently led to the bomb going off just as we passed through. The explosion travelled through the Gate as well. Once in your backyard, among the smouldering remains of the shed, I sealed it with this—" Mathias indicated to a silver band on his right, index finger, "—the Gate's key. Thomas and I both had one each. Without them, nobody can activate the Gate."

Layla secretly touched Thomas' ring on her own finger, recalling her memories of her flight from the' house in the woods only the night before.

"We escaped through a neighbours yard, using cloaking devices. Thinking it wasn't safe to return him to your family, I kept Thomas hidden until he was fully healed. All the while watching over your family.

"When Thomas recovered, we had a big argument over me wanting him and his family to return to The Library. Thomas wanted to stay in Willow. He wanted his revenge on Kaelan for threatening his family. Against my own better judgement, I left Thomas to hunt Kaelan and the rebels; another regret that still haunts me.

"It was a day later that Thomas and Eleanor had that fatal car accident. I believe he was going to finally tell her everything and take you all away from Willow before it was too late..."

Mathias let his last words trail into the ambiguity of the night. The suffocating silence of the park returned. The slight breeze was gone; strangled out by the closeness of the trees and the heavy emotions in the air.

Jack thought on that fateful event that changed his life forever. Why had his father survived so many heroic battles, only to be taken away from his family in a car accident? No, there was something more sinister responsible for his death.

_Kaelan_. He accusingly thought.

A mixture of anger, frustration, fear and sadness consumed him, and the only way he could diffuse it was to speak. "I will go with you," he finally said to Mathias, surprising himself. Jack suspected that his father's death was no accident, and he wanted to find out the truth. He also wanted to protect his family from those who hunted him and his siblings. Those who wanted a memory of an ancient artefact that was not his. That he had never seen in his life. "But first I want to make sure that mum and the kids are going to be okay without me for awhile."

"They will be just fine, Jack," Mathias said, gripping the teenager's shoulders in reassurance. "There is someone who I have personally appointed to watch over them while you are gone. Someone you can trust. And your time away will only be a fleeting moment in this world. Where we are going, a year there will only be a week here."

"What do you mean?" Jack asked, not grasping what the giant warrior was saying. "I thought it would take us ages to find the Crown; we need a boat, I need diving lessons, we need to figure out where in the Atlantic ocean the ruins are—"

"No my naive friend," Cloak interrupted. "We will be traveling back to The Library in Egypt. There we will be using the Rising Hope once again. But instead of the future, we will be travelling to the past. The distant past, which your history books do not mention."

"We are going back to the Age of Awakening," Will said with a broad grin. "Back to the countries I miss so dearly. I am from the land of Hy-Bresail, Jack, where the vast open plains, deep forests, and towering mountains make any scenery here look dwarfed in comparison. It will be a great adventure!"

"And a dangerous one," Layla added, her green eyes fierce. "We will be heading back to a time just before the War of the Three Empires. A time of political and military tension. But, who said I was one to shy away from a challenge."

Jack's gaze bounced off of everyone as they spoke, adding their pieces to the puzzle. His excitement and fear blended so well his emotions could not strengthen one over the other.

"Layla is right," Mathias said, joining the fray, "And therefore we must be prepared. We will train and arm you at The Library, Jack. Once I feel you are ready, that you are able to know and push the limits of your power, and to hold your own in combat, we will go."

"When do we leave for The Library?" Jack asked.

"Tomorrow night," Mathias answered, "After you have made your goodbyes."

**CHAPTER 6: GOODBYES**

Jack walked home under a heavy cloud of doubt. He had accepted Mathias' quest; yet he started to question its believability. Clarity had already begun eroding down his emotionally charged decision to accept it, and suspicion was rising like the tidal wave that had destroyed Atlantis. His logic wanted him to go home, and to forget the scar-faced man and his friends. Ignore their outrageous tale they had told him, and the enemy they warned him about—Kaelan. To wake up the next day and go to uni, and get on with his life.

Indecision racked his brain. Jack wanted to believe, he wanted something he could see beyond the dreams, which weren't merely apparitions. Unfortunately, he was shackled by the chains of reality, a reality he had known his entire life. A reality learned in books and lecture theaters, and from the world around him. Yes he had powers, and yes they were beyond the reality he was taught were possible; but they were tangible to him, they were real! Jack could summon them, and see their cause and effect. He became physically exhausted when he used too much of his powers, and therefore they had to be grounded in some form of science that had yet to be discovered. How could he accept fairy tales, myths and legends, which he deemed were not so? That were merely cultural references to primitive beliefs?

Jack's fear of leaving his family gave him another reason not to commit to the quest. They would worry about him, and think he had run away from home, or something far worse. Elly would call the police, and it would probably end up in the local paper. His face plastered on every streetlight and telephone pole in Willow. Jack couldn't do that to her.

Then again, his mind parried back, Mathias had told him that time was somehow eschewed, and that they could be away for a year and only a week would pass by in present time. His family wouldn't even know he was gone. He could simply say he was staying at Caleb's for a week. Caleb would agree to any outlandish ruse he concocted; his friend would find it devilishly fun.

Jack frowned. What if his mother called Caleb's house, or dropped by to visit him? How could his friend explain his absence? Elly knew Caleb's parents, and they would definitely not play along with such a ruse. It was too risky.

Also, he didn't know how much of this time traveling talk he believed. Was there tested proof? Had the Keepers—as they called themselves—already attempted a travel back to find the Crown before, and failed? And returning to present time, would there be another of himself waiting for him, sleeping in his own bed?

His mind was muddled.

Time travel was a heavy concept to get one's head around. Not to mention the concept of a crown that could harness pure psychic power from large crowds of people, allowing its wearer to perform unimaginable feats. Telekinesis with almost no limits.

Searching for this magical crown that could possibly level cities, in a world at war with each other, didn't sound like a stroll in the park. It didn't sound like his typical day of packing his siblings school lunches, before going to university. He had never been successful in a school yard fight, let alone taking on enemies with immense powers. The quest would be very risky, which could just as easily lead to his death.

Then what made him say yes? Was he caught up in the excitement? Was he put under a spell by these strange people?

No.

It was something deeper than that. Beneath his doubt was a small voice shouting at him. A voice trying to be heard over the noise of 'reason'. Trying to say he was doing the right thing. The voice was his conscious. His six sense. His intuition. His gut feeling. And it said that what Mathias spoke was truth.

The Atlantean had told him about his father and his heritage. Told him everything—well, a brief time line of events anyway, which were sufficient enough to fill in the gaping holes of his little-known life. A life that seemed so alien to him now he knew some of the missing pieces. Like he was being told about someone else' life.

Mathias also said he would leave someone to watch over his family. Someone he could trust. How could he trust someone he hadn't met? It was a small comfort in the overwhelming scheme of everything he was expected to do. Who was this person? Another Atlantean soldier?

Then Jack reflected on the mysterious giant's companions. The dark and mysterious Cloak, whose brooding demeanor and sharp tongue left no room for subtleties. Will, who was everything Jack wished he was: handsome, strong, and likable. Will and Cloak—light and darkness—were evidently opposite sides of the same coin. Both loyal to Mathias. Both subordinates with strengths and weaknesses that complimented each other to make a whole.

Again with his assumptions.

Then there was Layla. She was strong, and upfront in what she thought. Not afraid to take risks. And distractingly beautiful. Everything he wanted in a girl. However, he chased that fantasy away with his memory of Layla holding Will. There was a relationship between the two that he could not discern whether friendly or romantic. Either way, he had just met her, and Jack felt stupid for falling for a girl he hardly knew.

But those eyes... that smile...

Jack suddenly came out of his reverie, and realized he was home.

The front light was on, and a half-shadowed Rowan stood in the doorway.

"A bit late for a walk in the dark," the young man said, teasingly, "Have you been serenading some girl at her bedroom window?"

"I wish." Jack replied with a weak smile. His mind was still troubled by his unfinished debate with himself. "Is mum worried? What's for dinner?"

"Why so glum?" His half-brother jibed, ignoring his questions. "Did Cloak leave a bad impression. I'm sure, he didn't mean it. He's always playing the tough guy."

Jack's eyes suddenly opened wide, and his jaw was hanging. "What?" he managed to say through shocked confusion. "How did you know?"

The older sibling patted Jack on the shoulder and winked. "I'm the one who will be guarding your little secret whilst you are away. I have already told mum you will be coming with Emily and I back to Paradise this weekend—tomorrow night—so you can experience the big smoke. She won't suspect a thing. I mean, you can trust me. I haven't told anyone about your powers either."

The teenager continued to stare in disbelief. He couldn't even concentrate on the words tumbling effortlessly out of his half-brother's mouth. How did Rowan know about his powers? And how did he know who the mysterious stranger and his friends were?

"How do you know any of this?" he asked, pulling Rowan away from the light of the porch, down the steps and into the darker driveway. "My powers? I haven't told anyone—did James say something? Alora? But that doesn't explain how you know Mathias—"

"Let me start by saying," Rowan said with a calm voice, "Take a deep breath and stop the questions for one minute."

Jack obeyed. He deeply inhaled the cold night air; then exhaled, flushing out his sudden anxiousness.

"Now," the other continued, trying not to smile too much, "I have always known."

"How?" Jack whispered, his eyes still wide.

"I knew even before you discovered your powers."

The teenager shook his head. "That's impossible. Only James—"

"James and Alora never told me anything. They are good at keeping secrets." Rowan guided Jack back up the steps and onto the porch. They walked over to a dusty, old couch that lay abandoned in the corner. It had long lost its own support, like some drunken derelict, and now relied on the stability of the porch's rails to hold it up. When they sat on it, the springs groaned and squealed in a choir under their weight. "Like I said, I knew long before."

Jack didn't know how to answer, so he waited for his half-brother to explain.

"I am lore-kin and so is Emily. I met Mathias many years ago before you were born. I came upon your father's old, secret house in the woods when I was very young. I was following him on my pushbike one morning, when he set out on his usual mysterious 'weekend camping trip' with his friend he called, Mat. Later I would find out Mat was short for Mathias.

"I had tried following him many times before, or sneaking up on him when he was home, but for some reason your father always knew where I was. It was like he could hear my thoughts before I got close enough to surprise him. So I tried a few things to test this uncanny ability of his. That morning, I kept my distance, and I quietened my thoughts, which seemed to work. I let the sounds of the forest dominate my mind. Fill my head with images of the animals I imagined were making those sounds. I tried to become immersed in the environment around me, to become invisible, to hide my thoughts from Thomas by not thinking of him at all. It was hard, but I did it.

"Now when I think back on it, I find it amusing that a child could have figured out a way of outsmarting an ancient race of powerful people.

"Anyway, I finally, unintentionally, gave myself away when I stumbled across Mathias and Thomas discussing something about the rebel Atlanteans—" Jack found it odd hearing Rowan mention that race of people, but refrained from asking another question, "—and how they had uncovered an underwater graveyard of ancient Ramaean sky-ships. They both jumped out of their skin when I emerged from the bushes. At the time, I had no idea what they were talking about. And It wasn't their conversation that baffled me, it was them levitated above the ground that did it."

"So they told you who they were?" Jack asked a little too loudly, then winced, and whispered, "Why didn't they try and erase your memory or something like that."

"Thomas said I had the determination and smarts to become a lore-kin, and Mathias agreed. Said I would be valuable as a protector, to keep an eye out for my mother when Thomas was gone. Also, I believe he was planning in advance to have a protector for his own children he hoped to one day have with Elly as well."

Jack thought back on all the times that Rowan had been there for him when he was much younger. Always standing up for him against bullies and always taking care of him when he hurt himself, or when he was sick and their mother was away. He thought his half-brother was being over-protective; but it now made perfect sense. It was his assigned job from Thomas, his father.

"But it was Mathias who personally trained me in Atlantean unarmed combat and sword-fighting," Rowan continued. "He even gave me my first glaive when I was proficiently trained and old enough to wield one."

"What is a glaive?" Jack asked.

"It is a hand-held weapon that can change the shape of its blade to the desired shape of the user's thoughts. They don't require innate psychic powers like you have, as the weapon itself is only triggered by thought. Very handy when you need to adapt to different fighting styles."

Rowan shifted to find a comfortable spot on the dilapidated couch, then fixed a serious gaze on his sibling. "If I hadn't been trained from such a young age myself, hadn't known Mathias and learned from him like he was my own father, I don't think I would let you do it. I know this quest will be dangerous, Jack. I know there is a lot weighing on the success of destroying the Crown of Dreams. The fate of everyone, it would seem. But I have all the faith in the world that you can do it."

Jack felt a hard lump in his throat, but swallowed it down. His past doubt was being abolished by family love.

"I feel it is right," the teenager said, searching for the right words. "As ridiculous as it sounds, I know it is what I must do. I suppose, I was scared of saying goodbye to mum and the kids. I never wanted to say goodbye."

Rowan embraced him then, and they were quiet for what felt like an eternity.

"A week in Paradise will be good for you," Elly said, stirring the large pot of chicken curry, and tossing dashes of spices into its thick mix. She did not look up from her cooking. "I haven't let you leave the house for anywhere longer than a weekend at Caleb's. I think it will teach you some valuable lessons of being... independent."

"Oh, mum," Jack said, throwing his arms around her waist, and burying his face into her shoulder and neck. "The time will go by so fast, and I will be back before you know it."

"No, no," his mother raised a hand to shush his sympathy, "I don't want you to feel like you have to spare my feelings. You're not a prisoner here. The birds eventually leave the nest."

"Its a week. Maybe even less, who knows."

"Stay as long as you like, dear," Elly said with a warm smile, and Jack knew she meant it. "I guess I'll miss having you around to help with all the chores; but James said he'll make the lunches in the morning, and Alora has started to do dishes on occasions. We'll handle."

"I'm sure you'll be fine," Jack laughed softly, and he rested his chin on his mother's head. "You've always been strong."

Elly hugged him tightly.

When Jack looked towards the hallway, he saw James and Alora watching him with curious faces.

"I didn't know you were going to Paradise," James said, his tone accusing. "When were you going to tell us?"

"Tonight," Rowan's voice came from the door. They all turned to face the young man in the leather jacket. "Jack made a comment about wanting to see the universities in the bigger city. He thought it would give him a general idea for next year, if he decided he wanted to transfer studies."

Elly, James and Alora were still aghast.

"But..." Rowan looked at Jack for support; but found none in a wide, amused smile, then said, "He really loves Willow. And really loves the uni . So, I suppose it is more of a sight seeing visit, really. Yeah..."

Jack laughed, Elly giggled; but James and Alora still kept frowning.

"What about us?" James said, angrily. "We want to visit Paradise. What about your promise, Rowan?"

The boy's half-brother walked over and pulled both his younger siblings close to him, ruffling their hair. "Hey, it is only for a week. Then when Jack is done, I'll choose another one of you guys."

"Ooh! Can I go?" They both said in unison.

Rowan winked. "If you eat your vegetables, go to bed when mum says, and wish your brother Jack the best of luck, then and only then will I choose his successor."

Both James and Alora rushed over to Jack with big grins. They barraged him with well-wishes.

"You mercenaries!" Jack laughed.

James said, trying to subdue his excitement by hopping from one foot to the other, "I really want to check out the game and music shops. They have so much more than Willow."

"You'll get your chance," Rowan replied, "And Emily can take Alora for the day."

"Yeah, no boys!" Alora shouted, then exploded into giggles.

"Okay," Elly said, restraining her daughter with a big hug, "But you and James have to set up the dinner for Jack's last night before he goes away for a week."

Alora and James rushed to the cupboard and drawers for plates and cutlery as if they were running a marathon.

"You can sit this one out," Rowan said to Jack and walked over to help the others prepare dinner.

Jack smiled softly, then decided to go to his room and think for a moment on the events that had transpired. The people he had met, and what they wanted him to do. The risks he was expected to take.

Making his way to the hallway, he suddenly stopped, and turned to watch his family work vigorously at preparing the food. At one moment, they had finished setting out the plates, and were all huddled around the table, laughing hysterically at something Rowan had said, which Jack didn't hear. His half-brother was simply shrugging and smiling cheekily at them. It was the first time in a long time he had seen tears of laughter in his mother's eyes.

Warm, orange light from an old, ornate lamp lit their faces, and the warmth of summer was heavy in the night air. The rich smell of pollen wafted through an open window.

This sentimental moment didn't last long, unfortunately.

Jack's vision was suddenly shrouded in a dense veil of mist. He felt a great distance grow between him and his family, and then noticed that they were being drawn away from him, disappearing into the grey. When he looked down, he no longer saw a carpeted floor of the hallway, but a metal platform, built over the top of a enormous, glass sphere. He had dreamed of it earlier; it was one of the glass orbs of the statues known as the World Bearers.

His family were now only shades and faint cries in the far distance, being swallowed up by a swirling vortex of darkness.

Then he saw a mighty tidal wave rise up like a blue-green wall across the vast horizon, scattering the mist before his eyes. It moved quickly, rolling over the coastland towards him, crushing all in its wake.

Jack looked down at the city.

Atlantis!

Then the outer walls were hit by the wave...

People were screaming in the streets, but their voices were so far away, and were drowned out by a sky full of screeching sea-birds; the crumbling of their buildings and great statues; and the deep groan of the ocean's weight, heaving against the island city.

The teenager didn't know if this was one of his father's memories resurfacing; but he knew he was looking upon the Fall.

Before the wave reached the World Bearers, who held him high above water's reach, Jack saw that the buildings that were being absorbed by the water were not just from Atlantis, but Willow as well! The university he attended, Caleb and his local haunts, and all the places he cherished... destroyed.

This genetic-memory passed down to him, this premonition of what could come, suddenly flared like white fire in his mind, and the wave, the buildings and the World Bearers vanished into its brightness.

When Jack snapped back to reality, he was leaning against the hallway wall, staring wide-eyed at his preoccupied and oblivious family members.

The tragedy of the city's fall burnt into his mind forever.

**CHAPTER 7: THROUGH THE GATE**

Caleb's voice sounded excited for once. This was rare for the seen-it-all-done-it-all teenager.

"You're going to love Paradise," Jack's best friend said through the cellphone's receiver, "It has so much to see and do there. The skate parks, the clubs, the women!"

"I'm not going for any of them," Jack laughed, leaning back on his computer chair, "I'm there to check out the universities, and spend some time with Rowan and Emily. They said they were going to take me on a grand tour of all the nice scenic locations—"

"Boring!" Caleb cut him off. "Man, you seriously need to walk along the beaches in Paradise. You won't regret it. The women are so gorgeous there, you'll think you've died and gone to heaven. Its like those magazines I showed you in ninth grade—only real."

"I'm not that naïve," Jack huffed, then suddenly reminisced about Layla. "It's not like I haven't seen a gorgeous woman before." His last comment was a contemplative whisper.

"You could have fooled me."

"Look," Jack said, quickly trying to gain control of the conversation, "I just called to say goodbye."

Silence.

"You're saying it like I'll never see you again. Its only for a week."

"I know, but this is a big thing for me. I've never left this town before, as you know, and I suppose I just want you to know that..."

"Know what?" Caleb asked, curious and impatient by Jack's cryptic talk.

"That I will miss you and hope to see you again soon." Jack shook his head, silently berating himself for how cheesy and odd his sentiment sounded.

"You're weird you know that," Caleb replied, but his tone was endearing. "I suppose that is why we're friends."

Jack smiled.

"I'll miss you too buddy; I won't have anyone to leech notes off of in history class. Joking, of course. But seriously, you'll be okay, just have fun and don't get lost. I know you too well. You're head is always in the clouds. Anyway, I gotta split. Mum is heckling me to help her clean the car."

"Alright," Jack said, "Take it easy. I'll see you next Saturday, okay?"

"Okay—oh wait!"

"Yeah?"

"Just do one thing for me?"

"What's that?"

"Promise me, please promise me, you'll hook up in Paradise. You've been single for as long as I've known you, and I'm afraid you'll one day become this academic-obsessed lunatic, who has never kissed a girl in his life. I don't want you to die alone. Not that I'm saying the first girl you kiss you will marry, but you know what I mean."

"I know what you mean," Jack laughed. "See you later, Caleb."

"See-ya!"

_Click_.

The afternoon faded into night like the lingering glow of a dying candle.

Jack lay sprawled on a hammock, watching the darkening sky descend like a curtain over the sun's last rays.

Jinx, the cat, was stretched out on the lawn beside him, yawning and flexing her claws intermittently. She rarely spent time with him in the past; and Jack suspected she may have sensed a change in his thoughts. This was not strange to him, as he had caught Jinx many times reacting to his private thoughts. She could read him, like he could read other people.

He smiled sadly, and idly stroked the black feline's glimmering coat. This would be Jack's last day at home, before he was to set out on his quest back into the past. He would miss everyone, even Jinx.

The teenager had spent most of the day with his family, and the rest of the afternoon scouring the Internet for any information he could find on ancient, mythological cities and sites around the world. He had furiously read up on Plato's romantic vision of Atlantis, the mystical Isle of Avalon in England where King Arthur's remains lay, and the gold paved streets of Eldorado in South America; and was now contemplating the concept of an advanced civilization, far older than any found in the history books he had read.

It was fascinating that so much literature could be found on a subject that verged on fantasy and science-fiction. He couldn't help but wonder how much of what he was seeing on his computer screen was actually real, or merely hoaxes to draw in an audience.

Jack had read websites that claimed to host uncovered, ancient records from the times of Atlantis, Rama and Osiria. They spoke of a terrible war between the three great nations—that Jack was now informed was called the 'War of the Three Empires'—and supported their documents with images of cave paintings and hieroglyphs, which depicted ancient men flying spaceships and wielding laser-guns.

Some websites spoke of conspiracies, which covered up contact between world governments and aliens from outer space. They said that the aliens knew our true origin, and had helped us rise to heights of advanced technology in our dim past. Now they were allowing us to advance again, through technology that was evolving with leaps and bounds.

Still others said that the Nephilim—half-angels, half-men—were the descendants of aliens and humans, and were the rulers of Atlantis, the builders of Stone Henge, and responsible for the pyramid beneath the seas of Japan. One particular website owner said that they still roamed the world to this day, and claimed to have seen one. Jack would have laughed out loud if he hadn't seen one himself.

It seemed to Jack that the articles he read were a blurring of truth and fiction; written by people who did not have any knowledge of the past they claimed to be scholars of, but had sometimes hit the mark with general assumptions. They were creating their own interpretations from pseudo-historical records to satisfy a mystery they would never solve.

Yet, there were times that Jack saw an ancient cave painting or stone carving, which resembled something Mathias had told him the night before, and he was instantly captivated. Could some of them truly be artifacts from the Age of Awakening, or was he reading into the images too? The Keepers or their lore-kin would surely have apprehended the artifacts from these website owners if that were the case. And who was to say they hadn't?

Jack let that spider-web of thoughts go, and quietened his mind.

_Remember to keep our powers a secret_. He thought back on a conversation he had with his siblings when they had got back from school. _Also, watch out for mum. She needs your help around the house. Don't let her do all the work. And don't do anything brash or foolish_.

_We won't_. Alora had promised.

_Mum is in good hands_. James had reassured him.

Jack sighed. So much was at risk. He was about to go on a journey he may not come back from, and only Rowan knew. Also, his family, unbeknown to them, had now become targets of Kaelan and his rebel Atlanteans, who wanted the Grey children's memory their father had left them of the Crown of Dreams. A memory buried so far back in the dark recesses of Jack's own mind, which he did not know how to draw out. It held the outcome to everything. The fate of the world lay precariously in their—more specifically his—hands.

"The Gate is buried beneath the pond," Mathias whispered to Jack, "Much like its sister Gate in the Southlake woods. They were concealed to hide their presence from your people, and our enemies."

Mathias, Jack, Cloak, Will and Layla stood in a huddled circle in the corner of the backyard of Jack's home. The fence that Layla had leaped over a couple of nights before shielded their backs, and the tree beside Jack's bedroom window concealed their front view of an oblivious Elly, who was hanging clothes up in the dark.

An owl suddenly descended from the sky in a ruffling of white feathers, and sat bright-eyed and curious on the yard's back fence. It watched Elly; blinking and titling its head.

The woman, who loved owls immensely, started to talk to it in that doting way that is used on animals.

"Do not fear," Cloak whispered to Jack with a ridiculing smirk and a slap on his shoulder, "Although we can see each other, the belt that you wear has cloaked—pardon the pun—your presence from your mother and any others who are not wearing one."

Jack looked down at the belt that Cloak had given to him an hour ago; its strange, metallic, black buckle—which was simply a cube with ancient silver markings etched in its surface—glowed softly. A weak aura; which the assassin had told him meant that it was running out of the psychic energy it relied on. All their belts were low, due to their extended time in Willow, hiding from its inhabitants.

"We do not need the darkness or that tree to hide behind," the Nysaean continued, "Elly will not see or hear you whilst you keep it on."

"I'm not afraid," Jack said to the pale-skinned man, furrowing his brows. But Cloak was right, he was a little scared. He did not want her to know what he was up to, where he was going. For all she knew he was already miles away, in the city of Paradise with Rowan and Emily.

"Your sweat and fast breathing says otherwise," the Nysaean grinned with a knowing wink.

Jack frowned, turning to Mathias. "What were you saying about mushrooms earlier?"

"The fairy circle," Mathias said, now standing away from the tree with his gaze cast in the direction of the pond. "In your English myths, they speak of a circle of mushrooms where fairies meet. Well, there is some truth in them. Besides their usual, natural formation through sporing, the myth of fairy portals originates from the Shadow Weirs used by my people. Back in ancient times, many of our gates—a large circle of arch-shaped pillars—were buried under the ground to prevent them from being seen by Ramaean and Osirian invaders. The energy channeled by the pillars under the ground, would excite the soil around it, causing the mushrooms to bloom. To outsiders, a Lemurian nobleman using such a gateway would appear as if the mushrooms themselves were creating the portal."

"What do these pillars look like?"

"Stone Henge," Layla answered, standing close to Jack so he could feel the skin of her forearm lightly touching his. Blushing, he took a step back; but the girl did not notice. "That structure however is only a primitive, stone replica of the metallic ones buried around the world. And you're lucky enough to have one in your backyard."

Jack's eyes glittered excitedly at the thought of more than one Stone Henge. "I was always drawn to those ruins."

"Perhaps a genetic-memory?" Will offered, his blonde hair shimmering under the cloaking field circulating around him.

"Maybe," Jack said, considering that possibility. "But you said the Gate was destroyed in dad's other house," he said to Mathias, 'How come—"

"There was another," Mathias answered. "Thomas' Southlake house has many secrets. One of them was the second Gate in the ravine. The one we destroyed was built in a large garage attached to the back of the house. It wasn't buried under the ground, much like the smaller one in your old shed. They were upright, and visible. It was through many investigations of the surrounding land that we discovered the second Gate. Your father has a lot of secrets hidden in that forest. Secret passages and storage chambers..."

Jack nodded, but did not speak. He was anticipating Mathias' next move.

When Elly had finished pegging the last piece of clothing, and slowly made her way back into the house, the group began to move towards the pond.

"Be careful, Jack," Mathias cautioned, "Once through the gate, we must make for shelter immediately; for the power of these belts are waning. We must also be on our guard. When we came to the Southlake house two nights ago, we detected rebels roaming the grounds. They were searching for more of its secret caches. Your father found many things during his early travels."

The teenager's wild imagination speculated on the 'many things'.

Moonlight illuminated the pond's surface, appearing like a silver orb beneath its still water. Mathias strode up to a mound of soil that had been dug up. Kneeling, he thrust his right hand—which bore a silver ring—into the soft earth. After a twist of his wrist, and a mechanical clicking sound, there was suddenly a low rumbling that emitted from somewhere beneath the pond, which gradually evened out into a low hum. This odd noise was accompanied by what sounded like the steady beating of a gigantic heart just under Jack's feet. The pond's surface pulsed small ripples to the rhythmic beat.

To Jack's surprise, the mushrooms trembled, and their caps began to glow a soft blue. Then a wave of blue energy shot out from all points of the pond, as if projected from the mushrooms themselves, and hovered above the pond like another layer of water. However, this layer was a lighter blue; and it separated, and reformed like the crackling arms of a lightning storm.

"The Gate is opened," Mathias said in his deep, commanding voice, "enter now."

Without hesitating, the giant man stepped into the field of blue light and vanished. Following his lead, the others stepped through the portal.

Their passing went unnoticed that night. Except for two sets of white-glowing eyes that spied from Jack's bedroom window.

James and Alora watched in amazement at the sight of the glowing pond.

The Gate hummed to life in the Southlake woods, scattering a deer and several, smaller forest creatures from the grass-bed of the ravine. The air warmed with the smell of ozone, and the fairy ring lit up.

Mathias and the others appeared within a blue circle of light. Their forms were concealed by the power of the Nysaean belts; which were, however, fast depleting.

"Quickly," the bald man said, pointing to an cluster of trees that crowded at the southern end of the ravine. "Our enemies will be watching for the activation of the Gate."

The four Lemurians and Jack moved silently like ghosts to the shelter of the trees within a few seconds.

"We will wait here," Mathias said as they entered the copse of trees, "Until I am sure it is clear to proceed."

Will and Cloak stood watch at the treeline of the copse, while Mathias and Layla discussed with Jack their plan to approach the house, undetected.

"I am not sure if Oreus' men are waiting for us," the general said to Layla, who leaned against one of the oak trees. "There has been no word since our last night in Willow."

"Perhaps they were delayed," Layla suggested.

"Or dispatched," Mathias replied pessimistically. "My mind still does not detect any familiar, psychic signals here. But there are others. Other thoughts."

Jack wondered who those others were.

"The ravine is very steep; we can't climb it without being spotted," Layla pointed out grimly. "We will have to engage any of the rebels prowling around here."

"There is another way," Mathias suggested, his voice quietening to a hoarse whisper. "A path to the west of here, set in the side of the ravine. A secret, underground passage that curves back around to the house. I will have to open the hidden door first."

He suddenly pulled up the left sleeve of his military jacket to reveal what appeared to be a silver gauntlet entwined around his forearm. A handle protruded from the elbow area, suggesting there was a blade concealed within the gauntlet.

"What is that?" Jack asked, his eyes on the silvery vine-like gauntlet.

"It is a glaive," Layla answered him. "An Atlantean sword."

Jack gasped in awe, remembering Rowan's description of the sword. "It can be controlled by the mind, right?"

"Correct," Mathias replied. He then grabbed the handle near his elbow with his free, right hand, and pulled it away from his body as if to unsheathe a concealed weapon. Instead, the gauntlet itself uncoiled and straightened into a gleaming blade. A shimmer of light flashed down its length. "Wait here."

Layla nodded. Jack wanted to say more, but the giant had already slipped out of the copse of trees before he could open his mouth.

The stillness of the night was penetrated by the soft hum of the wind. No familiar nighttime sounds of foraging animals or bird cries could be heard; but a foreboding presence of watching eyes emanated from all directions of the ravine.

There was a sudden turn in the weather, which was brought on by a strong, bitingly cold gale that set the leafy canopy of the forest into a frenzied stir.

Mathias approached the high, western wall, where atop it stood tall, silhouetted trees, marking the border of the forest.

His presence was a whisper in the night; his incorporeal body a subtle shadow passing; and his footsteps were masked by the wind's wail, and the combatant clashing of branches far above his head.

When Mathias reached the wall, he began to run his hands along a section of half-emerged, gray boulders; his fingers searching for something.

Mathias smiled to himself. His hands uncovered a loose stone wedged between two larger boulders.

He pushed the rock inwards.

There was a sound of old cogs turning somewhere within the ravine wall, and one of the boulders slowly moved aside, revealing a small passageway into darkness.

_The way is open_. Mathias sent a telepathic message back to Layla.

The five companions made haste through the deep, unlit tunnel that Thomas had long ago carved into the side of the ravine. The stone door had closed behind them; but the Lemurians managed to navigate through the pitch blackness with the glow of their eyes. Their laboured breaths, and the slapping of their shoes against the stone floor, amplified in the claustrophobic passage.

As he ran, Jack noticed other tunnels breaking away from either side of the main one they were traversing. He couldn't help but wonder where each one went. What secrets they lead to. Mathias seemed determined to stick with the direction they were running, so Jack assumed the giant had been down here before, and knew their secrets.

Fearing they might have to run down the cramped tunnel for hours; Jack was relieved when he noticed Mathias slowing down.

Reaching the tunnel's dead end, the Atlantean general ran to a large, rusty lever, which sprung up from a metal box. Pulling it with both hands, a series of hidden cogs could be heard grinding against each other, and the stone wall before them began to slide open.

Behind the portal, they found a small chamber that was occupied by a single, metal ladder that rose up into the darkness of the roof. Not waiting to explain where it lead, Mathias began to ascend quickly, casting a momentary glance down at Jack and indicating with a nod for him to do likewise.

A large, cylindrical shaft, twenty feet high, took the companions to a sealed metal door. Mathias again located another hidden stone mechanism, which allowed him to open the metal door above their heads.

A large, vine-covered, statue of an Atlantean soldier stood on a high pedestal in the middle of a dry fountain. He wore a winged helmet and wielded a spear, which was broken in several places. The fountain rested in a small courtyard, which was fenced by stone walls. A large apple tree grew in the north-eastern corner; its unpicked fruit lay strewn on the ground in rotting heaps. Neglected, over-grown garden beds ran along the base of each wall, and a wooden gate lay at the southern end.

Nothing moved.

Then, a groaning sound from beneath the fountain issued forth, and the statue started turning on its pedestal. It rotated from facing south, towards the wooden gate, to the north. As it turned, a doorway in the pedestal opened.

Mathias emerged, shaking off the dust that covered his head and shoulders. The others followed, staggering into the courtyard, catching their breath back.

"Where are we?" Jack asked, coughing out dust and stale air.

"Thomas' house," Will answered with a smile. "See."

Jack followed the young man's pointing finger. It was clear from where they stood that a large building—an old manor, it appeared—rose up above the courtyard's low-set walls. A tall, arched window, filled with colourful, mosaic glass looked down on them; the moon shimmering pale in its reflection.

"The Southlake House," Mathias stated, moving to the gate, his heavy boots squashing a couple of apples as he went. Before he reached it, there was flash from his belt buckle, causing the big man to pause. The black cube gave three more blinks of weak light, then died.

Three other belts quickly followed suite; except Jack's, which had not been used, and was fully charged when given to him.

"Damn," Cloak cursed, "they're out."

A flicker of movement in the manor's window caught everyone's attention.

"Then we had better hurry," Layla said, pulling her eyes from the window, and pushed her way towards Mathias. "Do you sense anything?"

The giant nodded, with a dark expression. "They know we are here." He looked about for Jack, and then said to the unseen teenager, "Keep yourself hidden, they may not know we have you. Follow closely, and don't get lost."

Once out the courtyard's gate, the companions quickly passed between its western wall and the house's east wing, along a narrow lawn, until they were facing towards the northern treeline of the woods. Between them and the trees was a grass field, scarcely dotted with outcrops of moss-covered boulders.

Clearing a weed-infested flower garden at the edge of the house, which clung at their clothing with its cruel, looking thorns, they desperately ran for the wall of shadowy oaks.

Mathias had his sights set on an offbeat, dirt road sheltered by a passage of trees. It had been the way they had come two nights prior.

As he got closer, the bald man noticed several shadows flitting amongst the oaks, then heard a soft creaking sound of branches weighing down from above. He paused before slowly looking up.

"Revenant!" he warned the others, tightly gripping the handle of his glaive.

"Unfortunately for you," replied a sinister voice. Crouching on one of the lower branches of an oak, just beneath a cluster of leaves, was a shadowy figure of a man with long white hair. The visible skin of his hands and exposed neck were deathly pale in the moonlight and his eyes glowed crimson red in the dark.

After a moment of silence the man leaned forward out of the concealment of the leaves and his face was fully illuminated, flooding with detail. The red eyes which stared mockingly at the Atlantean were accompanied by a refined, high cheek-boned face; framing a curved beak-like nose and thin, cruel lips.

Mathias was, at first, startled at seeing the red-eyed man. Then his surprise quickly changed to undisguised loathing.

"Gha'haram," he acknowledged the rebel by name; spitting it like a curse.

"The one and only," Gha'haram hissed amusingly. "And now your journey has come to an end, General Mathias."

**CHAPTER 8: SILVERSONG**

Mathias knew all too well who and what Gha'haram was. The creature who appeared as a man—and who once was a Nysaean like Cloak—was known as a Revenant: an undead being who drew its power from a device called a Doom Stone shard, which was buried deep inside its head. This pyramid-shaped, obsidian stone restored the corpse's memories and the mobility of its body; and also gave it an insatiable desire for the life-force of living things—rejuvenating its own damaged flesh with the drained energy of its victims. Unfortunately for it, the Revenant had to continue this healing process on a regular basis so as to retain its fast-decaying flesh. Should it go without draining a living thing for a long period of time, it would finally die.

Gha'haram was no exception.

His remains were found in an ancient, sunken temple by Kaelan, and was restored through a blood sacrifice. During the early years, Gha'haram ruthlessly fought his way to the top of the Dark Tide ranks, finally garnering a high position of authority next to his rival Xharan Ar'Taarg. He was cunning, strong, and resourceful; using whatever means to destroy any who stood in his way.

Many feared Gha'haram; but Mathias was not one of them. Their last confrontation had ended with Mathias sparing the Revenant's life.

"I see Kaelan's favourite servant is never too far," Mathias mocked his opponent, holding his glaive before him in a guarded stance. "I suppose I will have to kill you this time."

"You should have when you had the chance," the Revenant said with a dark grin. Visible cracks were suddenly beginning to form in the centre of his forehead and the skin began peeling away to reveal the glint of the black prism beneath. Until now it had been concealed by his rejuvenated flesh so he could exist undetected in human society. Out in the wilds however he had no use or fear for such disguises. "That opportunity won't come again, I can assure you."

"You cannot stop us," Mathias said, with stubborn defiance. "You cannot stop me."

The Revenant's grin grew even wider. "We shall see about that. I know the boy is with you, I heard his thoughts earlier, heard his voice. His memory will be ours, and the crown will be reclaimed. Death to any and all who stand in our way."

Mathias' storm-grey eyes flitted from Gha'haram to the nearby trees, searching for more Revenant. He knew they were out there somewhere just waiting for the command to attack. "Not whilst I am still breathing."

"We can remedy that." The reply was a promise.

The others soon caught up with Mathias, and were standing back from him, gazing up at the rebel general who crouched on an outward thrusting branch.

Gha'haram then stood up, balancing, and walked off the branch. The Revenant descended like a stone, his arms outstretched wide and his hair a writhing, white serpentine trail above him. The obsidian pyramid in his forehead left its own trail of red light like a shooting star's tail. When he landed before Mathias only a slight bend of his knees showed any evidence of the impact.

"I have gained new abilities since last we fought," Gha'haram said, curling the top of his lip into a snarl, "Which I can't wait to show you!" Then suddenly his pale skin began dry up and crack apart like mud. The red light from the stone on his brow and from his eyes filled the cracks all over his body, gradually becoming brighter as they widened. Then the skin began to peel off him and burn up into wisps of ash, blanketing the forest floor about him.

Standing before Mathias was a creature most humans could only imagine in their worst nightmares: a Revenant in its true form. It's decaying flesh—which looked putrid and discoloured with welts and ulcers—thinly veiled twisted cords of muscle that stretched grotesquely over its black-boned skeleton. It's face was mostly skull and it grinned hideously back at Mathias, displaying sharp, broken teeth.

Gha'haram then reached out and touched the tree he had jumped out of. A red glow gathered at his finger tips and a bright light from within the tree appeared to siphon into his hand.

Jack watched in horror as the life-force of the tree was drained from it; the bark darkening, and the leaves of the lower branches, shrivelling up and exploding into grey dust. The bright light poured into Gha'haram, and his rotten flesh began to heal, and transform, covering itself in a thick layer of bark-like skin. The Revenant now looked very much like a tree himself: his fingers curled into gnarled, twig-like claws—much like his toes, which ripped through his leather boots—and his hair a tangle of vines and leaves. His eyes still burned a baleful red.

"Kill them all, and find the boy!" Gha'haram growled into air, unsheathing two glaives that were strapped to his back. The Revenant leader then lunged forward at Mathias in a whirl of flashing steel and brute strength.

Then the attack came.

Six shadowy figures erupted from the tree-line in an explosion of leaves that whooshed upwards, flying through the air towards the companions. First their cloaks and then their skin burned away, revealing the flesh-decaying horrors that they really were.

One landed several feet from Jack in a catlike crouch. It reached out and touched one of the large moss-covered boulder, and suddenly began to absorb its essence much like the same way that Gha'haram did with the tree. Seconds later, the undead shape-shifter had turned into a towering, stone behemoth; crushing the source of its power—a now frail, empty rock—into smithereens with a single fist. The Revenant lurched forward at him; but rushed by, charging at Cloak who was facing off another Revenant.

Jack froze in fear as the giant passed him. Then in a blink of an eye survivalism kicked in, and he ran for another moss-covered boulder to hide behind...

Mathias and Gha'haram locked weapons with teeth bared. They were old sparing partners, and a familiarity of each others' fighting styles became evident as soon as their glaives clashed fiercely together, beginning their offensive and defensive back-and-forth. Mathias favored Atlantean strong-arm sword fighting, and Gha'haram used the swift, sword-dancing style of his native country of Nysa. Both were almost equal in swordsmanship and dexterity; yet Gha'haram's transformation and rage fueled determination to reclaim his honour from his past defeat made him that little more dangerous.

Their swords reacted to their minds, taking on various—often extravagant and abstract—shapes as they deflected each others' blows. The swords also allowed the wielder to be creative and tricky with their attacks: like expanding to impossible lengths, or taking on another weapon's shape, like a battle-ax. At one point in the fight, Gha'haram's two swords merged into a single blade, then split again into four points, all flying towards Mathias in an attempt to skewer him from head to toe. Luckily, the bald Atlantean managed to block this with an upwards swipe of his sword; his blade morphing into four, wave-shape swirls, and each swirl locking around the four on-coming points. In one fluid movement, Mathias flung the attack away, and Gha'haram's blades retracted back into two...

Will and Layla stood against four Revenant.

"Two each," the fiery girl laughed, her heart beating faster for the fight.

"Let us finish this quickly," Will said with a confident smirk.

The blonde-haired man ripped his shirt off, revealing his glaive, which was snaked around his muscular chest in a silver coil. Layla's own sword was wrapped around her waist, just below her cloaking-belt, which she flung off like a whip. Both Lemurians paired off their adversaries, and ran eagerly into the fray.

Will quickly slew one Revenant before it could change—its dying hand clasping a nearby boulder, which it crumpled against. The young man grabbed its head and smashed it against the boulder, shattering the black stone in its forehead. The only sure way to kill a Revenant.

Layla had also felled one of her opponents, and was gouging out its stone with her sword, when its partner rushed her. The young woman barely dodged a black, skeletal claw that racked at her face, before throwing the dead Revenant at her new attacker, then stabbing her blade through both bodies.

Picking up a small rock, she smashed it into the freshly wounded Revenant's head, and then hit the other Doom Stone shard she'd cut out of the first.

A strangled cry caught her attention, and Layla's head snapped up to see Will's last Revenant holding the Hy-Bresailan around the neck with two massive, rock-encrusted hands. It had managed to absorbed the aspect of the boulder; its bulky form shimmering moss-green under the starry sky. Her companion's glaive lay on the ground, out of reach.

Layla leaped to her feet and ran to his aid; but slowed her pace when she noticed Will's wrist band glow an intense, white light.

Will smiled, and winked at Layla, then reached up and grabbed his assailant's rocky wrists. The white light expanded out from his bracelet, and surrounded both man and Revenant in a sphere of ethereal energy. Suddenly, the undead shape-shifter's movements slowed, and Will snapped its hands off at the wrists as if they were dry branches. He dropped to the ground and grabbed his sword, then swung an upwards blow that hewed the Revenant's head clear off its shoulders. Ignoring its dead body dropping into the grass beside him, Will ran over to its head and smashed its stone with the butt of his sword. A moment of convulsing followed, then the Revenant's headless, rock-skinned body finally crumbled apart, revealing a blackened skeleton beneath.

Layla finally locked eyes with Will, and he nodded, letting her know he was fine...

Cloak stood unflinching before the charging, stone-skinned Revenant. There was a dark smile playing on his lips, and a glint in his eye. He was staring lustfully at the stone in its forehead.

When the creature was within reach of him, its huge fists swinging at his lithe body, Cloak moved faster than thought, side-stepping its lumbering rampage.

The Revenant crashed into the boulder Jack hid behind, and reeled backwards from the collision.

Taking advantage of its disorientation, Cloak leaped onto its back, unsheathing a concealed glaive from his left shin, and stabbed it into its forehead. The Revenant screamed in pain and rage, its red-glowing eyes in its skull-face faded to black, and it toppled over.

Cloak jumped from the falling Revenant, and landed effortlessly onto the soft grass. He held the Doom Stone shard in his hand, grinning triumphantly.

Jack watched in amazement, and horror, as the Nysaean appeared to absorb the red light into his body. Gradually, he began to expand in size, rising up to about ten feet; and the darkness seemed to gather around him like a shroud of black mist.

"Fools," he laughed darkly, looking down with fire-filled eyes at the piles of black bones that were the remains of the Revenant attack force. "Only the Samatar know the true strength of the Doom Stone shard."

Spurred by fear, Jack crouched lower behind the boulder—ironic, since he was wearing an invisible belt, but had somehow forgotten. _What is Cloak doing?_ he thought, frantically. _Is he a traitor?_

The shadow-thing that had once been the pale-skinned man, moved towards Mathias and Gha'haram in a roiling black mist, swirling across the grass...

Gha'haram pounded at Mathias' defences with his whirling swords like he was a smithy hammering hot iron, or a hailstorm pelting a tin roof. His bark-covered muscles groaned as he exerted all of his strength against his most hated adversary; and the giant Atlantean took each punishing blow in stride, giving back just as much as his aggressor. The singing from their swords echoed into the night; and their blades' abstract transformations a spectacle to behold.

Due to the skills of both combatants, the battle seemed to never end. Then the stalemate finally broke when the Revenant captain suddenly flung a tangle of vines from out of his wrists, into Mathias face. The green, spiky, tendrils wrapped around his head, choking him; and Gha'haram pulled him forward towards his ready blade.

Stamping his right foot in front of him, and leaning back with every last muscle in his lean body, Mathias broke his possible impalement upon his opponent's sword. He then slashed his glaive upwards, severing the vines on his face, which caused Gha'haram to stumble backwards, then fall. Mathias used his gathered momentum, and leaped forward, stabbing his sword down at Gha'haram's forehead, attempting to destroy the Doom Stone shard.

The Revenant rolled away, and the blow thudded into the soft ground.

Gha'haram spun on his back and swiped Mathias' legs out from under him, dropping him to the ground as well. The Revenant's sweeping leg morphed into a thick vine in the motion, quickly wrapping around both Mathias' ankles, burrowing deep into the ground, and keeping him held down. Mathias thrashed wildly against the numerous vines that continued to sprout from Gha'haram's now unrecognizable form, wrapping and entombing the Atlantean...

Layla and Will ran to help Mathias.

Will's spherical field of energy still swirling around him; Layla's glaive melding into various savage shapes in reaction to her rage at Gha'haram.

A bark-covered arm sprung out from the Revenant's bulk, and elongated to the size of a battering-ram; piercing Will's shield, and knocking him and Layla to the ground...

The black mist was a few feet away from the tangle of Gha'haram and Mathias. A partially corporeal hand held a burning stone that glowed a furious red.

Then it suddenly withdrew and the Nysaean's form shrunk back to its normal height. The shadow-thing had merely been a projection of the stone, which now began to shake violently in Cloak's hand as it absorbed the mist and its illusion. Then his frail visage snapped back into reality.

Jack stepped out from behind the boulder; his eyes anticipating the Nysaean's next move.

Cloak held the glowing stone above his head, watching the fight. Mathias had suddenly torn away enough vines to gain leverage over the Revenant; and was now holding the undead creature's black, grinning skull in both hands, crushing it with his brute strength. Another few minutes and the giant Atlantean would have probably pulverised the creature's head into dust, along with its Doom Stone shard.

Not hesitating, Cloak hurled the stone at Gha'haram's mass of vines. Like a grenade, the Doom Stone shard exploded upon impact; its red flames seared through Gha'haram's bark and vines and burned them to cinder, freeing Mathias from his tomb of foliage. The giant Atlantean rolled away from his enemy, climbed to his feet, and cleared the fire that was now burning the grass about him.

Gha'haram's scream of pain thundered above their heads as the fire began eating him. From the wreckage of the blast, a black-boned skeleton desperately clawed its way out of burning molasses of vegetation. Part of the bark-skin still clung to Gha'haram; charred and smoking in spots, and making him look a horrid sight.

"Thisss isss not overrr!" The Revenant hissed like steam escaping from a fissure. It then turned and looked hatefully at Cloak, knowing he had destroyed its flesh. "Disssident foool!"

Jack saw recognition in the skeleton's red-burning eyes. _It knows Cloak!_ He thought.

The pale-faced Nyasean stood beside Mathias with his glaive in hand, and said nothing. His face was cold and emotionless.

Gha'haram turned and began shambling awkwardly away—due to the damage of his body—towards the Southlake House. Then suddenly he caught a second wind, and the Revenant started running at an incredible speed. Jack noticed a red glow from Gha'haram's legs as he ran, which left burning-footprints in the ground behind him. The Revenant's body began absorbing again, and the last of his bark-skin dissipated in a flicker of ash: replaced by a layer of dark soil, which was speckled with grass. He looked like a man who had been rolling in the mud.

Soon the darkness swallowed up the undead shape-shifter, except for the trail of red light from its Doom Stone shard.

"We must be rid of this place," Mathias said wearily, his ash and blood covered body leaning against one of the moss-covered boulders. "Gha'haram will be back with reinforcements. You saw that movement in Thomas' house. There are more of them."

"What are they?" Jack asked Mathias. He was still invisible; but as he approached the group, they could see the grass flattening under his footsteps.

"Revenant," the giant Atlantean replied after a moment of catching back his breath. "Undead servants of Kaelan, who use the Doom Stone shard to remain alive. It is also what gives them their shape-shifting powers. They made the vampires and werebeasts, they poisoned the lakes of Avalon during the early days of the rebellion. There is more to their sad tale, but that will have to wait until we are clear of the woods."

"Or not at all," Cloak said—a silent anger brewing behind his cold, piercing, blue eyes.

Jack caught Mathias' now troubled look cast over the heads of the others towards the south, and turned to see the lights of the Southlake House all lit up in the distance.

"He has alerted them to where we are," Mathias said, turning to the trees, "Run!"

The companions forgot their battle-fatigue and ran as fast as their legs could carry them.

Will's shield shimmered briefly and died as they left the field and entered the protection of the trees once more.

Mathias led the Lemurians and Jack along the path he had intended; but eventually diverted through a heavily shadowed part of the forest, where the trees—that looked alien to Jack with their thickly ridged bark and bloated trunks—grew closer together and more numerous. At times, they had to squeeze themselves between the tree trunks it was that dense, and wade cautiously through thick bushes, which slowed down their progress immensely. However once they had managed to make it through the knot of trees, they found themselves in another, much smaller, clearing. This one had no paths leading to it, and its concealment suggested it had been made by someone for secret purposes.

"This is it," Mathias said to his companions who waited at the edge of the clearing. "The entrance to the underground hangar."

"Hangar?" Jack asked, his voice popping out of the darkness behind the giant Atlantean. "What kind of hangar?"

"For sky-ships," Will answered from Jack's right.

"Sky-ships?"

"Ancient, Lemurian aircraft," Layla added, grinning in the direction of the voice. "Similar to your airplanes, I suppose." She couldn't see him, but imagined him staring at her in disbelief.

"When we arrived here two days ago," Mathias said, "We came another way; but that entrance is closer to the house, and more than likely surrounded by rebels. This is the only other way down." He then drew all of their attention to a large, squat tree next to where he stood. He reached out and grabbed a small branch that looked slightly lighter in color than the others, and pulled it down. The branch was a lever, which activated a secret door—a bark-covered panel—in the base of the tree. In reaction to the door opening: a hidden light source somewhere inside the hollow trunk came on, illuminating a spiraling, wooden stairwell that descended deep into the ground.

"Quickly, inside," Mathias instructed.

The companions entered the tree one-by-one, descending the stairwell some twenty feet down into an underground chamber, which stretched infinitely into a wall of darkness in all directions. The ground beneath them was polished, gray stone; and only the patch of floor where they stood was visible under the shaft of light from the stairwell above.

Mathias closed the door of the tree behind Cloak, and was the last down the stairs. When he reached the bottom, he knelt onto the stone floor and began sweeping his hands over a particularly large slab of stone. Removing the dust that had settled there, his fingers found what he was searching for: a small hole.

The giant Atlantean placed his finger that wore the Gate-ring into the hole, and twisted it.

Click!

A low hum suddenly rose from beneath their feet—much like the sound from the Gate in Jack's backyard. Like a chain reaction, a series of orbs that appeared to be suspended by tree roots emerging from chamber's soil-exposed ceiling lit up, consuming the darkness about them and revealing its secrets to the companions.

They stood in the hangar Mathias had spoke of.

As far as they could see, the massive chamber was filled with a hundred or more dusty, sheet covered bulks of many shapes and sizes. Occasionally, a metallic appendage stuck out from one of the draped sheets, exposing a part of what was hidden beneath. Jack thought he spied a wing here, and tail-fin there; and his excitement started to grow.

There were barrels—probably containing fuel made of some unknown liquid—in large clusters, piles of scrap metal, and open chests and crates of tools and spare-parts scattered about the chamber's floor. There were also small step ladders resting against each sheet-cloaked object, which suggested they were used for someone to climb into the unseen things.

"This is amazing," Jack finally said in an awed whisper, taking off his invisible belt and becoming corporeal once again.

"Your father's hobby," Mathias said, turning to face Jack who was now visible, "was collecting old wrecked sky-ships from the ocean. There are Lemurian, Osirian and Ramaean ships of all types here; from battle-ships to farming and transport ships. He hoped to one day rebuild all these derelicts for The Library."

Jack marvelled at the sight, speculating what these mysterious ships looked like. Then he finally saw in the center of the hangar one sky-ship that wasn't concealed, which sat upon what looked to be a runway that disappeared into the distance. Its silver, eagle-shaped body shimmered softly under the ceiling of glowing orbs.

He had seen this ship before. Seen it in his dreams of Atlantis.

"The Silversong," Mathias said.

**CHAPTER 9: THE FLIGHT ACROSS THE SEA**

"The roots belong to trees called gloams," the giant Atlantean said to Jack, answering his quiet fascination with the glowing orbs suspended by the tree roots in the cavern roof. "We also call them sunbark. The orbs are simply solar-powered lights, which are fed by the gloams. The trees are native from before the Fall, which were brought back in the Rising Hope. Gloams absorb sunlight during the day, and can release them at night when triggered in the right way."

Jack's enraptured attention of the orbs was gradually brought back to the Silversong, which glimmered softly under the gloams' lights.

"That is the sky-ship that got us here," Mathias continued, walking slowly towards the awaiting silver vessel. "And it will be taking us back to The Library in New Osiria... or Egypt, as you call it."

"How did you get it here?" Jack asked, following Mathias.

"This chamber emerges from the side of Mount Spire that Southlake Forest, and—as you know—Willow sits on. There is a secret door in the cliff-face, which can be activated by our thoughts." Mathias tapped the side of his temple to emphasise the required access to the secret hangar.

"Did you fly at night to avoid attention?" Jack asked.

Mathias placed his right hand onto the beaked nose of the sky-ship's cockpit, gliding his fingers along its smooth finish. "No. It wasn't necessary with its cloaking device."

"Like the belts?"

"Like the belts," Layla replied.

"Nysaean technology, yet again," Cloak said in his whispery voice. "The art of bending the mind outwards and seeing naught but space has always been a nifty little trick of ours."

"And its hull is made from metal from Hy-Bresail as well," Will added.

Cloak scoffed.

"The strongest of all metals," Mathias said; and the blonde-haired Atlantean beamed proudly in recognition, which infuriated Cloak even more.

"How fast can it fly?" Jack asked, reaching out and touching the slick surface of the ship's curved-back wings.

"Faster than anything you can imagine," Will said, grinning. "So, Jack, want to ride up front with me? I'm pilot on this mission."

"Of course!" Jack shouted with excitement. The two made their way to the step-ladder that rested by the cockpit.

"First we must prepare the runway," Mathias said, and all attention returned to him. "The doors in the mountain side need to be opened; and I think for Jack's first true test of his power, he should be the one to do that."

The Atlantean general pointed to two dark rectangles at the far end of the hangar that appeared to be made of solid stone.

"I can't do that," Jack gasped in surprise at the seemingly impossible feat given to him. "I have only lifted small objects with my mind—"

Mathias pointed to the doors. "Jack, we cannot be delayed. Who knows if the Revenant spies have found the entrance to this hangar. We are running out of time."

Not knowing if it was a ruse to fool him into action, or the truth, Jack swallowed apprehension and closed his eyes tightly. He reached out a hand as if it would aid him with the mental thrust required to open the stone doors, and spread his fingers wide.

Nothing.

His eyes tightened, and his fingers spread wider.

"Hand gestures are a wasted theatrics," Cloak jibed.

Mathias scolded the Nysaean with a deadly stare; then said firmly to Jack, "Open your mind. Remember your dreams. Remember our plight. Remember your father."

The air seemed suddenly heavy to Jack; and he had to take in large gulps of it to keep his heart still and his mind clear. He delved deep inside of himself, conjuring up feelings of the past, and thoughts of longing and of desperate need for his father. He let all these emotions flood through his veins and excite the psychic energy within him. The hair on his arms began to prick up, and his eyes became glowing pools of all-consuming white.

Jack moved his fingers to his temples. He imagined the stone doors flying open. He pushed his invisible strength at the distant barrier with all his might...

Nothing.

The wall was too strong for him. They were an unmovable barricade against what was left of his untrained, unfocused will; and a symbol of the barricade against all the things he wanted to accomplish in life. In his mind's eye he imagined his family standing with him— insubstantial shadows unable to help him against the stone doors.

His shoulders sagged, and his sigh of despair barely escaped his lips.

"Its hopeless," Jack said, and his white eyes faded back to his brown irises, which were full of tears. "I can't do it."

"No son of Toram would say such a thing," Cloak said; but this time his tone did not carry ridicule. "Thomas would be disappointed. It is a terrible shame."

Jack drew his distant, empty stare from the stone doors and threw them bitterly at Cloak. Then rage took him and all went black.

He felt the psychic power well up inside of him at the mention of his father's possible shame for him, and he felt it surge through his veins like white-fire again. His body trembled, then shuddered, and then he felt his mind explode into a violent scream. He wasn't sure if he was actually vocalizing this sudden rage, but he could see the others covering their ears.

Cloak looked slightly surprised; but not afraid.

Mathias watched him carefully, his emotions unreadable. Layla and Will looked sympathetic. All their eyes reflecting his glowing whites.

Through his seemingly uncontrolled wrath, Jack saw the Nysaean nod to the doors with a coy smile, playing on his lips. Cloak was silently indicating to him that his task was still to be completed.

Jack reined in his psychic rage and turned back to the doors. A minor reflex of his thought, and the stone barrier flew open! The starry night sky filling the void beyond.

"Now, Jack!" Mathias' voice thundered through his haze of power. "Into the Silversong! We must depart before our racket draws any attention!"

Nodding—his emotions falling back under his control—Jack let his power subside.

Mathias exchange a brief stare with Cloak, which Jack caught, but could not discern. It wasn't approval; and it wasn't a reprimand.

The general turned his attention to the ship's cockpit, and Jack heard a telepathic message directed at it in a language he did not understand.

Ashar ist thal.

The sky-ship shimmered a soft white—like Mathias' eyes—and the eagle-shaped head of the cockpit began to move. It split at the beak, and the top half swung back, revealing the ship's interior.

Will and Layla climbed the short step-ladder, and entered the ship without hesitation.

Mathias ushered Cloak to follow next, then walked over to Jack, who stood frozen, staring out of the open maw of the cavern's entrance.

"You did well this night," the giant Atlantean said, resting a reaffirming hand on the teenager's shoulder. "A little unfocused... but it is a start."

Jack looked from the open doors to Mathias. His eyes barely meeting the towering warrior's. There was some fear and shame in the way he reacted to Cloak's words.

"His methods are unsavoury," Mathias said, recognizing Jack's discomfort, "But they have good intentions."

Jack smiled wearily, but had no words to respond. He followed Mathias to the Silversong, leaving behind what he felt was the last of his innocence.

The Silversong left Mount Spire like a silent and invisible lightening bolt. The stone doors to Thomas' secret graveyard of sky-ships were closed swiftly behind it by Mathias mental command.

Whether by physical or emotional weariness—or both—Jack slept deeply upon a comfortable bench in the cockpit. Will sat not far from him in the pilot seat, his mind connected psychically to the ship's control systems. His thoughts ahead, towards The Library and those who awaited them.

Behind a wall that divided the small aircraft into two chambers, Mathias, Layla and Cloak made whispered counsel.

"You must apologise to him for that comment," the young woman was saying to her Nysaean companion, who folded his arms against her berating. "He took that comment very personal."

"Why should I apologise to him," Cloak replied coldly, "It will only weaken the boy's resolve. We can't have him lose that desire for revenge for Thomas' death."

"Nonsense," Mathias said, entering the debate. "He will always have that desire. What we don't want is him using his rage to defeat obstacles. It is reckless, and it will leave him vulnerable to Kaelan."

Cloak opened his mouth to say something but Mathias cut him short. "This is not a request, Cloak. I don't want you provoking the boy anymore. We are all here to help him in his training, and I don't want any of us to give him bad habits."

"He has already gone through enough as it is," Layla started to say to Cloak.

"You seem to forget, I have gone through a lot myself," the assassin hissed back in retort. "This is more than the petty crush you seem to have on the boy."

The last comment enraged Layla; but she restrained herself in front of Mathias. Calmly, through clenched teeth, she said, "You have misread my intentions, Erin. I am protecting his fragile state of mind."

"He is not the only one who has lost family!" Cloak raged back, and stormed away from the meeting. He disappeared into the back of the ship, where several crates were stacked full of provisions, and hid amongst their shadowy bulks.

A dark mood settled over the ship.

Layla followed his departure with a disapproving look. She was about to say something more, but saw Mathias stare, which urged her not to.

"Leave it," the giant Atlantean said.

Layla humphed, and walked towards the door, which would take her into the cockpit.

Mathias sighed. This was going to be a very long journey indeed.

The Silversong was above the dark, endless sea, when Will began to feel fatigue affect him. The battle with the Revenant had drained him immensely. The bracelet he wore, which gave him the ability to manipulate gravity within projected space required a large amount of energy. His psychic power had fed its need, and now his body was spent. His eyes were drooping, and his consciousness slipping in and out of sleep.

"I believe the locals of this time call it micro-sleep." Layla's voice spoke softly behind him.

Will's eyes shot open. "I wasn't sleeping."

Layla plonked herself down in the co-pilot's chair. She moved a strand of blonde hair out of Will's eyes and kissed him on the cheek. "Of course not," she said with a small smile. "Now let me take over, otherwise you'll crash us into the sea."

The young man turned wearily in his chair to face Layla. He removed a ornate looking skull-cap made of a silver-colored metal, and handed it to Layla.

"Let those tired thoughts drift back to Atlantis," she said, and he saw a sadness in her eyes he could not figure out.

Jack was awake. His back was too the Lemurians, and he heard their conversation, and wondered what feelings Layla had for Will.

He then drifted back into sleep...

It was another hour before Jack awoke again, and decided to sit up.

Layla—whose back was to him—sat in the strange looking pilot's chair, which consisted of a three-jointed, crane-like arm that supported a seat, giving her the ability to move about the cockpit without getting up. The control panel before her was arrayed with knobs and dials, which looked very archaic and outdated by any modern aircraft he had seen. However, the most bizarre part of the ship was a silver-coloured skull-cap that rested on Layla's head and wasn't attached to anything. It gave off a soft white glow, and Jack assumed it must be some kind of psychic-interface with the ship's controls.

"How was your sleep," Layla said, aware he was watching her. She did not turn around in the chair. "I did not want to wake you."

"It was good, thank you," he said, standing from the bench and making his way over to her. "It felt like I had slept for years."

"Using that much psychic energy for beginners is always physically taxing," Layla informed him, her stare lost in the darkness beyond the glass portals of the eagle's eyes. "Then you begin to learn how to ration it, and use what you need."

"How long have you been doing this," Jack asked.

"Since I was as young as I can remember," Layla replied. "I believe I was six when they began to seriously train me. Although, I had already been taught how to use telepathy since birth."

Jack watched her as she spoke, taking in all her details. She caught him out when she turned and smiled at him; and his eyes shied away.

"You must have known you had powers when you were young," she asked, breaking the awkwardness of his reaction.

"There was always a glimmer of something," he said, keeping his gaze downcast. "But it didn't evolve into anything until we were older. Only after dad..."

Layla's smile vanished, and she looked away. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked that."

"No, no its okay. That was a long time ago now. Even though some nights it seems like yesterday."

"It must have been hard growing up without your father."

"It was." This time it was Jack's turn to turn and smile at her; but his smile was soft and sad. "I miss him."

The chair turned on its crane-arm, and Layla reached forward and pulled Jack into a comforting embrace.

His face was engulfed by her sweet scented hair, and her head rested on his shoulder.

"It will be okay," she said calmly, stroking his back. "I promise."

Jack exhaled a breath of longing, and closed his eyes tightly. He wanted to hold her forever.

That night, Jack stood by the eagle-eye portals of the cockpit, watching the stars streak by. The ocean was far too dark to see from their height; but occasionally he spied the shimmer of silver starlight on its opaque surface.

"Where are the others?" he asked Layla.

"Will is discussing plans with Mathias, and Cloak is still brooding."

"I didn't mean to be the reason you guys are fighting—"

"Don't be silly," Layla stopped him, "Erin is a stubborn man. He means well; but he infuriates me to no end."

"Why is he like that?"

"Why is he a pain in the backside as you modern-types tend to say?"

Jack stifled a laugh. "Yes."

"He has lived a rough life, I suppose. Anyone who was raised in Nysa their whole life don't tend to have a sunny demeanor."

Jack kept gazing into the darkness and remained silent.

After a moment, Layla continued. "I suppose I shouldn't speak to ill of the assassin. Before the Revenant regime crumbled and Nysa became part of the Lemurian Empire, Cloak's parents were executed for being rebels. And to make matters worse, his brother was later indoctrinated by Kaelan."

"Those undead things back at the Southlake House?" Jack asked, horrified.

"Yes," Layla answered.

"The Revenant—the undead, shape-shifters—ruled Nysa once?"

"Yes. But it was a long time ago. They were originally military experiments by the country's old sovereignty; before they turned on them and took over the country. Cloak's father was one of the leaders of the resistance. His name was Eritarus."

Jack listened intently to the small pieces of information that was revealed about the mysterious assassin. He did not expect to know anything about the shadow of a man.

"The Samatar," Layla continued, "were an elite group of assassins that took down the Revenant legions as if they were blades of wheat before a scythe. Eritarus was almost invincible. However, it was the Revenant King Meztor who slew him. The creature tore Eritarus to pieces and ate his body."

"What happened then?"

"The Samatar and the Orgonar—a Lemurian knight order—reaped a great vengeance on the last of the Revenant. Erinaeus was just strong enough to kill Meztor. They were all destroyed. Or so we thought. Then when the war between the Three Empires ignited over the Crown of Dreams, the shards started to resurface again. There were still some followers of the Revenant who had hid away their dead master's shards so they could themselves one day use them. Many became secret allies of Kaelan, even when he was still a good man and a solider of Atlantis. It is a dark tale that great war and those involved. I only know fragments, so it is best left for Mathias or Oreus to explain."

"Okay." Jack accepted the girl's reluctance to delve into the history of the old world. She had lived through a terrible history of the world his people would never, ever know. "How long will it be before we reach The Library?" He finally asked.

"In another five hours," Layla said. "So you should get some more sleep. You will need all your strength in the morning."

Jack nodded. He was about to ask her about Will, when he decided against it, and made his way to the bench.

He was shocked to find Mathias standing beside it, with a blanket and pillow in hand. He look weary; but vigilant.

"How long have you been standing there?" Jack asked.

Mathias did not answer, but threw the pillow and blanket onto the bench. "Do as Layla instructs. Get some sleep."

Then the giant Atlantean passed through the portal—a mind-activated door—that separated the ship's two main sections.

Jack wondered what secrets Layla had on Mathias, then climbed into bed, and fell fast asleep.

That night, Jack returned to his dreams of Atlantis. This time, there were no waves crushing its buildings. This time the great city glittered like gold under the dazzling eye of the sun. This time there were people cheering in the street, and there was music in the air. The Great Games were about to begin.

Jack woke to an equally bright sun, which shone through the ship's eagle-eye portals, warming his skin and blinding him. It was the end of morning, when the coolness of the night before had finally evaporated. He pulled the blanket over his head.

"Where are we?" he groaned.

"Above the deserts of New Osiria," Will's voice answered. "Egypt."

"The once green empire," Cloak added solemnly.

Without a second thought, Jack leaped out of his makeshift bed and moved swiftly to the pilot's chair. There he found Mathias, Layla and Cloak standing silently around Will, watching the unraveling of the desert below. He stood beside Layla, who surprising reached out and held his hand.

"We are almost home, Jack," she said, smiling.

Not that far ahead, a large oasis glistened amongst the sun-lit sand. When the Silversong had drifted close enough, the palm trees about the oasis began to bend back against the high winds of the ship's approach, and the body of water simultaneously erupted into massive geysers. The catalyst was four great, stone pillars, engraved in ancient Atlantean script, which lifted skywards by some unseen force, then stopped some fifty feet into the air; revealing a dark tunnel in the swirling waters of its center.

_They were awaiting our return_. Mathias said to the minds of his companions.

_Where does this lead?_ Jack asked him.

Beneath the desert, and eventually into the under-city of Alexandria itself. To the place we call The Library.

**CHAPTER 10: LORE-KIN**

After the long day, the much awaited evening came to Willow, easing the summer heat with a cool breeze from the mountains that stirred the dry leaves in the trees.

Caleb rolled into Merchant Park on his skateboard. His backpack hung low off of his shoulders, the straps pulled taut under the weight of the university textbooks inside it. His facial expression was distant and lost in thought. It was only through routine that his feet remembered all the bends and curves in the footpath; otherwise the teenager would have fallen over or crashed into a tree. In a leisurely gliding pace, Caleb finally came to an open basketball court, where he began to slowly skate in wide circles as if chasing his thoughts.

"Miss him too, hey?" A voice intruded his silent contemplation. "I remember you guys use to always play on this court. You'd set up a chair and use it to slam dunk some hoops."

Looking up from his skateboard, Caleb saw Jack's siblings sitting on one of the park benches on the edge of the court. James was looking at him intently, and Alora was looking at her dangling feet. She slowly looked up at him too, squinting under a little hand against the evening sun that concentrated in one small but bright spot on the horizon, like the oncoming headlights of a car dipping down a hill in the road.

"What are you guys doing here?" Caleb asked, his voice still distant.

"The same reason you're here," James said, "to reflect."

"Reflect? That's a strong word for you, James." Caleb didn't intend his response to sound condescending; but it did.

"He's not stupid, ya'know?" Alora huffed. "James wanted to show me where Jack loved to watch the stars."

"Sorry," Caleb said, kicking up his skateboard under his arm and walking over to the younger children. "I didn't mean... I was just—never mind."

"Don't worry about it," James replied, moving along the seat to give Caleb room to sit. "I read a lot. It started in fourth grade. First I read all the children books in the class room, then got bored. Then I started reading all the library books and finished them. And then... textbooks."

Caleb looked at James with wide eyes. "You... you brilliant, little nerd—um, genius!" he awkwardly said, trying to cover up the slip of the lip.

Alora was glaring at him.

"That is amazing," Caleb continued, smiling wearily at the small girl. "No wonder Jack did so well in high school and uni. He had you to proof read all his essays, no doubt."

"No, he's fairly smart too. We all are."

"Modest as well," Caleb laughed, jokingly punching James softly on the arm.

"I get your sarcasm," James said, then laughed as well, disarming the tension between them.

"So, this reflecting business is a little gloomy if you ask me. How about we all go back to mine and play some video games."

"Don't pretend you're not upset, Caleb. I can sense your emotions. He was your best friend."

"Don't get so down, he's only going to be away for a week. You're acting as if Jack's dead."

Alora gasped at the word 'dead'.

"He's probably having the time of his life—"

"Somehow I doubt it," James interrupted, turning away from Jack's boisterous friend. "I think something may have happened to him."

"What?" Caleb asked incredulously. Then his mood changed, and he stood up in frustration. "What could possibly happen to that lazy bookworm? I'll tell you what will happen: he will stay in Rowan's apartment in Paradise all summer long reading his architecture and science fiction books. He won't go outside, he won't play beach volleyball with the babes that are everywhere there, and worse of all, he won't go through with the promise he made me."

After a pause, both siblings looked up at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue.

"To kiss a girl! He said he will try and kiss a girl! Be a normal guy for once. Not some whacky recluse who talks about his father living on Atlantis!"

"Atlantis?" James said with raised eyebrows as if the word struck a familiar chord. "He has dreamt of Atlantis?"

"Atlantis!" Alora cried in excitement, "I have too!" She leaped off the park bench and began to twirl around as if in a trance. "I dreamed I was dancing with a big floral dress, but with real flowers stitched in it! And all these pretty stones!"

"Oh geez, here we go again..." Caleb sighed, rolling his eyes. "You're all mad."

"Guys!" James shouted, bringing their attention to him. "This is serious!" He then turned to Caleb and pulled the bigger boy closer. "This is _very_ serious. Last night, Alora and I saw Jack disappear through some mystical gate."

"What?"

"No, listen to me. I _am_ serious. There is something strange under the pond in the backyard. It must have been a portal or something, because it lit up and glowed blue. I dug yesterday and couldn't find anything. We saw Jack and a group of strangers disappear through it."

"I've heard enough," Caleb pulled away, effortlessly shaking James hands off his forearm. He turned and began to walk away.

"Will you just listen!"

Caleb stopped. In the time they had debated Jack's fate, the evening had quickly descended into the fringes of night, and the street lights were now softly aglow.

"I know you know something is strange with us. Something strange with Jack. Well, he told us not to say anything, but I'm going to say it anyway. Any repercussions will be on my head. If Jack trusted you, I will too."

Caleb looked over his shoulder at the boy. Alora was cowering behind the bench, her little eyes glimmering like cat's eyes in the dark.

"We have power. All three of us. And before you try and walk away, watch this..."

Caleb turned around and looked in awe as James' eyes flashed bright white. His jaw dropped.

"Oh, wait. There's more. The best has yet to come."

"James!" Alora cried, "You promised Jack—"

"We have to have him believe us." Then suddenly, James began to levitate off of the ground. An invisible force seem to scatter the dirt on the basketball court away from where he once stood. "We have to make him see."

Caleb combed back his hair with both hands in disbelief. "What the..."

A dog barked a warning somewhere beyond the trees, and James blinked the white light away, dropping to the cement floor with a soft thud.

"H-how did you do that?" Caleb stuttered. "Wait a minute. This is some kind of prank—but how? No, its real. I always knew there was something funny about Jack. As far back as eighth grade. He fell out of a bunk bed once and—oh, geez. This is, freakishly... cool!"

James' serious expression disappeared, and he cracked a smile at Caleb's sudden enthusiasm. "It is, isn't it?"

"But you can't tell anyone!" Alora pleaded, running over to stand near her brother. "Jack said so."

"I won't," Caleb promised, smiling at the younger girl. "I promise to take it to the grave."

Then a strong blast of wind suddenly hit the park, rustling the leaves in a frenzy and violently shaking the backboard of the basketball hoop with its invisible hands. When it subsided, Caleb and the Grey children heard a choir of dogs howling from the nearby houses along Kingfisher street, and flocks of hidden nightbirds singing fervently from the trees. Then after a minute they stopped as if on silent command.

"We're not alone," Alora suddenly said in a strange tone. Her eyes were shimmering white like James', and her arms were straight by her sides as if she was in some strange trance. "I can hear the animals. They are scared. Something is about to happen."

A movement in the half-light pulled Caleb and James' eyes to the trees. They saw dark silhouettes moving towards them.

James grabbed Alora's arm. "Come on! We have to get out of here!"

Caleb was confused at what was happening, but survivalism kept him alert and responsive to the Grey children. He ran after them as they made for the street and the protection of its lights. "Wait!" he cried, "Don't leave me!"

"You're older than us!" Alora shouted back.

"You have magic!" He retorted, catching up.

Then the footpath ahead was blocked off by a wall of six cloaked figures. Men and women with pale faces and black eyes. The Grey children slowed their brisk pace, then stopped.

"Who are they?" Caleb asked fearfully, swinging his skateboard back over his head as if he was waiting to hit one with it.

"I-I don't know," James stuttered. "But this can't be good."

"It isn't," a small, innocent sounding voice replied. Then out of the dark mass of silhouettes stepped a teenage girl—or so she seemed. She was just as pale as the others, with long blonde hair that stuck out of her black hood in two thick braids. The finger that she pointed at them with had a long black nail that curled wickedly like a wolf's claw. All her fingernails were the same. "You are wanted by the master."

"The m-master?" Caleb muttered under his breath. "Who is that?"

The girl—who Caleb noticed was quite attractive—laughed softly, wickedly. "He is called Gha'haram and he is the Star of Meztor. The new King of the Dead. All creatures of the night know his name."

"G-G-Gha'haram? Mez-who?"

"Will you just shut up!" James suddenly ordered the older boy, with an impatient tone and level stare. "They are obviously not here to answer all your stupid questions."

Caleb fell quiet, but he glared at the back of James' head, imitating what he said in a mocking whisper.

"Your master does not control us," James said defiantly at the pale-faced girl. "Leave us alone!"

The crowd of shadows laughed darkly, and their mirth sounded cruel and dangerous.

"And Gha'haram does _not_ take orders from the half-breeds of a dead Atlantean," the teenage girl hissed venomously. "You will come with us. Alive... or dead."

"Hey, sweetheart," Caleb did his best to come off charming, but his words lacked confidence. "Lets talk this out."

"There is nothing left to say, human fool."

Then they began to move slowly towards the three. James did not waver in his new found courage, and his eyes ignited in furious pits of white-fire. Alora's also lit up, but she hid behind Caleb.

"I know her from somewhere," Caleb whispered to himself. Then he remembered where. He remembered the afternoon Jack was trying to tell him about Atlantis at the bus stop. She was the pretty girl on the bus in front of them. She must of heard their conversation. "You!" He shouted, pointing at her. "I carried your textbooks on the bus!"

"You did," she said with a sly wink. Her pace quickened and her claws were bared like knives ready to strike. "Thank you. Unfortunately, your charm won't work this time."

A screeching of tires echoed behind the host of attacking shadows, and everyone looked to the road. A motorbike pulled up under a street light, and two figures in leather jackets and black helmets unmounted. When the rider removed their helmet first, James and Alora's eyes lit up in excitement and joy.

"Rowan!" James shouted, forgetting his eyes were still glowing white.

Then the second helmet came off. A long mane of blue-dyed hair cascaded down over the woman's shoulders. A soft, pretty face with big blue eyes, and a distinct nose-ring glittered under the light.

"Emily," Alora whispered with a hopeful smile.

The two newcomers ran towards the group of shadows.

"Stay away from my brother and sister!" Rowan warned, withdrawing a small metallic handle from under his leather jacket, which morphed into a long blade.

"Revenant scumbags!" Emily insulted the rabble, revealing her own glaive, which had sat on her hips in the guise of a studded belt. It now took the shape of a silver trident. "Bottom-feeding vermin!"

"Kill them!" the blonde girl screamed at the lore-kin rushing towards them.

Five Revenant warriors unsheathed crude swords and axes from ancient Lemuria and charged Rowan and Emily. Their eyes burned bright red under their cowls, and their flesh began to move and stretch as they loped forward.

One tall Revenant threw off its cloak, revealing a bloody, severed dog's head clenched in one of its fists. It had decapitated the dog earlier to absorb the animal's life-force, and was now changing in form, taking on the aspect of the dead animal. When the Revenant was close enough to Rowan he saw its head had changed from that of a man's to a horrible imitation of a snarling canine with a red stone glittering from its forehead. The sick trophy was also now nothing more than a skull covered in ash, which the undead creature hurled at him before following through with a swing from his broad bladed axe. Rowan batted the dog skull away, and pivoted around the axe slash, coming in close and stabbing his glaive deep into the snapping jaws of razor-sharp teeth. The dog head choked on the blade, which pieced out the back of the Revenant's neck. Falling heavily to the ground, Rowan smashed its red Doom Stone shard to pieces with the metal heel of his boot.

Emily stabbed a smaller Revenant in the chest with her trident, kicked its limp body off, then spun and hit another with her weapon's haft end in its forehead, shattering its Doom Stone shard before it had time to shape-shift into anything nasty. The one with the trident wound to the chest writhed on the grass; but was silenced by the trident smashing its Doom Stone shard too.

"That leaves one each," Rowan grinned at his fiancee.

"Not including the teenage girl," Emily laughed, turning mocking eyes at the blonde-haired Revenant leader. "You have one, and I'll take her as my second."

The girl Revenant hissed her disdain at the lore-kin and turned back to the Grey children. "I will be back for you, fools! Mark my words!"

Alora hid her face under Caleb's arm.

"Cassandra," Caleb said in sudden realisation, holding Alora protectively close. "I remember her name was Cassandra Veil."

The teenage girl leaped on all fours like a cat and scrambled as fast as one into the embrace of the night.

"Stop her!" Emily screamed—but it was too late, the girl was gone.

Rowan quickly dispatched one Revenant with his glaive by beheading it and then stomping it stone into crystalline dust.

James spread his arms out wide, keeping Caleb and his younger sister back from the last Revenant that turned away from Emily and began running towards them. "Stay back!" He shouted, his eyes burning brighter in the darkness. "Stay back!"

"Rowan, the children!" Emily cried, giving chase.

Turning away from his headless foe laying sprawled over a park bench, Rowan joined the charge.

Before the lore-kin could reach the Revenant, James swung his gaze to a sword one of dead creatures had dropped on the ground, and lifted it up with his mind. Moonlight danced along its chipped and jagged edge, illuminating its vicious design. The Revenant was almost on top of him when he threw it with sharp accuracy at the red stone that glittered like a burning target in its head.

A sickening crunch was heard, and the Revenant was instantly dead, falling backwards into the flailing arms of Emily who had just come up behind it.

"Get off me you filthy flesh-eater!" the woman cursed, pushing the limp body off her and onto the ground. With unrestrained fury, Emily stabbed its head with her glaive-trident until it was unrecognisable fragments of black bone.

"You know, my dear," Rowan said, puffing for breath as he ran up beside her. "My brother clearly killed it before you smashed its head in."

Emily laughed and kicked the dead Revenant one last time before saying, "I just had to make sure."

"Wait for it," Rowan said with a raised finger, silencing his fiancee. "And... now."

All the Revenant bodies laying in their death poses suddenly lit up in flames and dissolved into brittle piles of bone and ash.

"I hate cleaning up Revenant leftovers," Emily humphed, turning to the grisly mess. "I think its your turn."

"No, I believe I did the last clean up in the old church by the river. Your turn."

Caleb and the Grey children looked at the scene unfolding before them and slowly they began to laugh. It was a mixture of amusement and nervous relief that they had survived the attack.

James, however, didn't laugh for long as the gravity of what had happened began to sink in, and he finally ran to Rowan and buried his face in his half-brother's leather jacket and cried. Cried at what could have happened to them, and what he had done. Even though he had killed a monster, he had still killed something, and his thoughts were heavy with despair.

It felt like hours when they finally returned to the house. Elly was in the kitchen, leaning on her walking stick and cooking chicken curry when the door burst open. The smell wafted out into the driveway hitting them in the face as they hurried inside.

James was the first to run up to his mother and embrace her. "I don't want to leave the house for a week!" He cried. "A week!"

"What's all this?" the woman said, turning a worried look to Rowan who walked up to her with Emily in tow. Their leather jackets creaked as they moved. "I thought you said you'd be back in ten minutes. It has been—"

"We had to divert to the gas station, and I had to get some provisions for the trip back. Worried about the... the—"

"Tyres!" Emily said, finishing his fumbled sentence. "We had to pump them up. And then Alora wanted an ice cream—"

"No I—

_Mum can't know what happened, gnat!_ James' voice popped in the young girl's head.

"Oh, yes I did. I'm sorry, I was just so hungry."

"Hungry for ice cream?" Elly said, raising a brow. "That's a strange thing to say, especially since you knew I was cooking dinner."

"You never spoil her enough, mum," Rowan said with his lop-sided grin, kissing her on the forehead.

"Well that's fine and all... but where's Jack? You said you left him with Emily in Paradise, but here she is. And why is Caleb here? What is going on?"

"Um, well—" Rowan started, lifting a hand to aid his thoughts, then dropped it when his next excuse disappeared into the nothingness where all bad excuses go.

"I think it is time," Emily said firmly, holding Rowan's arm.

Rowan nodded slowly to her, then said to Elly, "You need to sit down for this, mum. I am going to tell you a few things that you might not believe. But trust me, it is all true."

"Trust him," Caleb finally said, stepping forward. "I don't believe many things, especially strange, mystical things, but this is true."

"Mystical things? True?" Elly said, the look of confusion dragging her eyes to everyone in the room as if searching for the answers from them. "Where is Jack?" she repeated.

"He is safe," Rowan said. "But he isn't in Paradise."

"What?" Elly dropped her wooden spoon and reeled backwards. Her son rushed forward and caught her with his strong arms. "I can't lose another one. I can't lose Jack, Rowan. No, no, I just can't. I lost his father and it nearly killed me."

"Mum," Rowan said, looking deep in her eyes. "You need to calm down. I will tell you everything."

Then Elly passed out.

After a brief moment of protests, Rowan silenced everyone and carried Elly to her room, commanding them to wait in the living room.

Caleb walked up to the pot of chicken curry and looked at it eagerly. "I nearly died out there, guys. Nearly died. And because of this craziness you've dragged me in, I deserve at least one nice dinner. So, please, excuse me while I make myself a large helping of this lovely curry. It will probably be my last meal if this night doesn't end well."

James and Alora stood quietly, holding each other, and ignored Caleb.

Emily stood by the fly-screen door, looking out into the wall of night. Her senses alert and her glaive in hand. "Eat as much as you want, Caleb," she said softly. "You'll need all your strength by the morning."

Rowan then walked back into the room, and all eyes turned to him. "She is awake and calmed down. Everyone but Emily into the room. We have much to talk about."

**CHAPTER 11: WAR COUNCIL**

A large, yellow moon, like a cat's eye, pierced the night sky, glaring down on Willow through the scant, charcoal wisps of night-cloud. Here in the industrial part of town where there was no challenge from the street lights and car lights, the stars shone bright.

The young girl ran into the dark alleyway, flanked by two men in hooded coats. They were not chasing her, but following, making their way to a small gathering of silhouettes at the end of the narrow street. On both walls there was a scrawl of crude graffiti and thick, rusty pipes that snaked in out of the old bricks. The few windows and doors between the buildings were damaged and weathered, for they opened into abandoned warehouses not shops, and seldom saw use or maintenance. Overhead, flickering lights feebly lit the shadowy length of the alley.

When the three stopped at the end of the alleyway they were met by hideous and cruel laughter. A large, rough-looking man in ripped jeans and a hooded flannelette shirt pinned another man against the wall with his forearm, holding him a couple of feet above the ground. Watching on in dark amusement were three other hooded figures with arms folded over chests. The squirming man held against the wall, who wore overalls of a factory worker, looked wide-eyed at his vicious assailant. The thug was crushing his windpipe and choking him slowly to death.

"Feeding already, Dart?" the girl hissed, crossing her arms in disapproval. Three red lights burned threateningly under her hooded jumper: two feline eyes and one Doom Stone shard buried deep in the girl's forehead. When she peeled back the hood, Cassandra Veil's porcelain face and blonde hair was revealed. "Gha'haram has made it abundantly clear that we are not to draw attention to this part of town. Sure, feeding in the city is fine, because disappearances are common there. But here, at the Meet, it is too risky."

"Veil," the thuggish brute—whose face was scabbed and peeling—addressed the newcomer with a respectful tone, turning away from factory worker who was turning blue from lack of air. "I didn't intend to... until this fool," he growled, turning his baleful gaze back at his victim, "stumbled across the warehouse. Thought we were squatters or vandals or something. Besides, I had to exert my strength after the last fight down by the river with those lore-kin, and my flesh is already beginning to decay. Curse this hunger!"

"Fine," Veil said nonchalantly after a moment's pause of contemplation. She couldn't spare losing another soldier tonight. Waving a hand, Veil gave Dart the permission to finish his 'feed'. "Get it over and done with. Dispose of the bones when you're finished."

The factory worker suddenly found the strength to break free of the arm for just one second and scream the last of his air out of his lungs, before the Revenant thug clasped both his broad hands over the man's face and pushed him down to his knees. His face lit up under the red glow of Dart's fingertips, and suddenly his body seemed to dry and crack as if he was white china. Then the man exploded into spray of ash, leaving a pile of bones behind.

A surge of energy rippled through the reeling Revenant's body, causing the wounds on his face to heal in the blink of an eye. He looked drunk in ecstasy of the kill.

"Hurry, the bones," Veil commanded, pointing at what was left of the man. "Xharan is—"

"Already here," a voice spoke behind her. She spun around and found a very tall, white-haired man standing under a spill of dim street light just several feet away. He was dressed in black, and had a tattoo of vines crawling up the right side of his neck. A blue and green eye glittered mischievously back at Veil under a heavy brow. "Did I startle you, my dear?"

The girl gasped, followed soon after with a scowl on her face. Her eyes spied one of the wooden doors in the alleyway open, and a thin mist of dust swirling under its overhanging light. Veil's look of anger at being surprised softened. "Greetings, Xharan Ar'Targ."

"What have you to report, Revenant?" the man called Xharan said. "Willow was to be scoured for Thomas' children."

"It has been," she retorted, mildly indignant. "And we have found two of the three."

"Three?" Xharan's eyes widened at the smug reaction of all the Revenant. "So it has been confirmed then. What of the other?"

"The eldest, Jack, has disappeared," Veil answered, her words holding no allusion to the answer. "I posed as a student at his university during the hunt, and exposed his identity almost by accident."

The last comment drew a hard look from Xharan. "Where did he go?"

"I cannot guess, but I fear that Oreus has intervened. I have seen Lemurians—mostly heard their mind-speech. Not to mention their snivelling lore-kin who seem to be everywhere. We were attacked tonight by two of them after we had cornered the younger children. They managed to kill my men and escape."

Xharan chuckled, seemingly to himself. "It seems Kaelan may have been right. Oreus and Aramthias' interest in this town was not empty suspicions after all."

"Kaelan's traitor was useful then," Veil stated with a smirk; however the rebel Atlantean did not seem to hear.

"I still have my reservations," Xharan continued, suddenly sounding doubtful. "There has been many supposed 'sightings' of the Grey children throughout the country, especially in the towns of Deep Ridge, Halifax, Kingston and Haleton—where Thomas was killed. Your vampire slaves have almost drunk half those towns dry on the whiff of rumours that the children were there. Shadows and rumours. Why should the Dark Tide believe Gha'haram's mercenaries until it has been truly proven?"

The group of Revenant growled almost inhumanly in anger at Xharan's disrespect, but the tall man did not seemed threatened. Then, as if to justify his confidence, two more rebel Atlanteans stepped out of the door Xharan had exited, carrying glaive-morphed tridents. They also towered over the undead creatures, including Dart, and were strong of limb with a dark look in their eyes.

"I have given you my word!" Veil hissed, but she did not make a move against her superior. The Dark Tide were proficient fighters and Veil doubted her and her men would survive a confrontation with one, let alone all three.

"I did not say I didn't believe you, Veil," Xharan said diplomatically, holding a hand to stop his companions—whose eyes were now glowing white—from stepping towards the agitated Revenant. "I merely said I have my doubts, which need to be sated. You are Revenants, yes, but new-worlders. Mercenaries, criminals—" his eyes flit across all the Revenant faces and then stopped on Veil's "—runaways. All granted but a fraction of Gha'haram's Unending Blessing. You share no blood and wisdom with my people."

Veil felt the barb of his words, but held back dark words. Her fists balled, her head lowered.

"Let me accompany you back to where you fought the lore-kin and we will track down these children. Find out if they truly are worth our trouble."

"You will find more than just trouble with those ones, I fear."

"I enjoy... trouble," Xharan replied, grinning mischievously. "Perhaps too much."

Then the Revenant and Dark Tide rebels entered the open door to the warehouse where they began their war council. Xharan quickly gathered more rebels and lore-kin who were loyal to their cause, and Veil summoned a large force of Revenants and thug allies who served them. Xharan chose to lead the attack on the Grey house, for although he appeared to doubt Veil and her surveillance of the town, in truth he believed her words and wanted the glory of capturing Thomas' children himself. So he plotted the end of the Revenant army in the back of his mind, hoping to also kill Gha'haram and take his place as Kaelan's most trusted general.

"Atlantis?" Elly half-whispered in her wary state, dipping in and out of sleep. "That is nonsense. Its a myth."

"I'm afraid not," Rowan said, sitting at the end of her bed. "It exists. And I will prove it to you."

The woman's eyes shot open and did not let the weight of sleep close them again, saying, "How? Have you seen it?"

"No, only in a dream."

Then the door opened and James led Alora and Caleb in. "Mother," he said, holding back tears, aching to be in her arms, but keeping his dignity in tact before the older men. "I—"

"Come here," she cooed, opening her arms.

James folded under the weight of sadness and ran to her side. He rested his head on her shoulder for awhile, not saying a word. His thoughts his own.

"There is something I am about to do," Rowan finally said, standing, drawing all eyes on him. "And you will be surprised. Even scared. But I want you to promise me that you will not scream."

"W-what?" Elly asked her oldest son, pulling James tighter into her arms. "What is it?"

"This..." Rowan pulled opened his jacket, revealing a chain wrapped around his chest several times. Elly's confused look asked to know more. The man grabbed the centre of the chain and pulled, which caused the tangle of metal links to melt and reform into a long metallic rod in his outstretched hand. Slowly, the rod began to wedge along its length, before changing shape into a long-bladed sword. "A relic from that ancient, sunken city."

"Oh my!" Elly covered her mouth, holding back her shock and disbelief. Slowly she said, "How is that possible?"

"It is possible because it is not a myth. Thomas—may he rest in peace—once showed me that great city in a dream. It filled my mind and consumed my senses. I felt like I was actually there! A marvellous dream. This weapon is called a glaive, and it was given to dad's people to defend their empire. There are many of them, but they rest at the bottom of the sea. Dad use to take me fishing—remember mum?—far out from the shore, where the water is dark and fathomless. He showed me miracles I could hardly imagine. How to speak with the mind. It is harder for me, because I'm not of Lemurian blood, like James and Alora are.

The two siblings both gasped. James quickly pulled away from his mother's arms and gave his half-brother his unwavering attention from the edge of the bed.

"So it took me a long time to unlock that part of my brain. But through time I learned quite quickly. We also went deep sea diving, and dad showed me old stones, which he said were from his time. Parts of great cities, he said. Not Atlantis, but Lemurian nonetheless. And we found... we found rusted wreckages that weren't sunken ships."

Elly did not say a word, but kept hanging on Rowan's every word as if any memory of Thomas—imaginary or real—was a way to connect with her dead husband.

"What were they?" Alora asked in her small voice by the door. She slowly crept to the bed and sat next to James, holding his hand.

"Sky-ships."

She gasped again.

"Broken and unrecognisable... but not to dad. I helped him take them back to his hidden workshop." Elly's wide eyes and soft gasp showed Rowan his mother did know of _that_ secret either. "Bit by bit, piece by piece. There we rebuilt every single one. It took a long time, most of my college years, but we did it! We rebuilt all these sky-ships."

"Impossible," Elly whispered. "He said you were at your uncle's fixing—"

"Cars," Rowan laughed, "I know. It was the biggest secret he told me to keep. When I broke that promise, in the summer of my graduation, he almost never forgave me."

"What do you mean?" Caleb finally spoke. He still held an empty bowl in his hands, which he had been nursing for sometime.

"I took Emily down to the secret hangar. We were busted making out in one of dad's favourite sky-ships, the Silversong. Dad was angry, but made us swear never to tell anyone. He made Emily swear on the Atlantean Oath, a strong promise that no one can break. She was made a lore-kin after that too."

"Lore... lore-kin?" Elly asked.

"Lore-kin are people who know about the Lemurians. Friends of the Library, dad would say. The Library of Alexandria in Egypt is their last home. But I digress. After she agreed, without any reluctance, Emily was trained to speak with her mind and fight too. We were tasked with protecting Jack, James and Alora on the debt of our very lives. A promise we can never break."

"Where is Jack?" His mother brought the question back to the answer Rowan dreaded to answer.

"He is safe," he replied. "But I cannot divulge that information just yet. If our enemy even gets a whiff of where Jack is right now, then all could be lost. Just trust me. Believe me when I say he is safe and out of harms way."

After a moment's pause, Elly slowly climbed up against the bed head, and swung her legs over the edge next to James. Her gaze was in her lap, and she seemed to be mulling over everything Rowan had said.

"Speak to me with your thoughts," she finally said, lifting her soft eyes to her eldest son. They were full of belief. "Speak to me how Thomas once spoke to you."

_It is real, mum. All of it._ His words were warm thoughts that brought tears to the woman's eyes. _Dad never wanted you to get hurt._

Caleb turned from the room and quickly left. Emotions were stirring in him that he was not prepared to face. Jack was somewhere he did not know, somewhere he could not reach—Paradise was a lie. A ruse to keep everyone, including him, in the dark. To protect an old family secret. _I will find you, buddy._ He thought, stepping outside in the warn night. He stood next to Emily—two silhouettes gazing at the stars in silence. _I will find you and help you protect your family!_

Emily heard his thoughts and smiled softly. It was going to take that kind of spirit to see them through the night, she thought.

Bird songs echoed in the cool and otherwise still night air, sounding distant and hopeful for the light of the sun. They also heralded the dark grey storm clouds that were thickening in large plumes over the horizon with the promise of rain. A humid, heavy, summer rain that was unrelenting.

In the driveway, the Grey family were packing a light blue van with their bags and suitcases. Hastily they worked against the clock, taking everything except the furniture and white goods. Food was emptied from the fridge and freezer and put into an icebox, and every drawer, cupboard and wardrobe was left bare. A fear hung over the family's heads like the watchful eye of a predator lingering somewhere on the rooftops of the neighbouring houses, urging them to move faster. Rowan had told Elly of the attack in Merchant Park, and said that the Revenant hunters would be back, but in greater numbers. He said that the scent had been found, and Kaelan's attention would now be heavy on Willow. The Grey children were all that he wanted, and he would stop at nothing to have them and the memories they subconsciously carried.

When the van was packed full, with only a small nook for James, Alora and Caleb to sit amongst the boxes, Rowan turned to Elly and said, "Emily will drive you to a safe house. Caleb is going with you, because they know who he is now. His house is beyond the park; he can't go home, it will endanger his family. I will be staying here to slow them down."

"No, no, no," his mother replied worriedly, holding onto his sleeve and trying to feebly pull him to the van. "You have to come with us—"

"There's no room, mum. And it won't take them long to discover which way we went.

She began to cry and Rowan shook his head, refusing to give in to her plea for the sake of their safety. "You must go now. I will meet you at the safe house. Dad fortified that place very well, so you should be safe. These Revenant have only been searching the towns and cities for the kids, I doubt they have spies in the wilderness." He paused for a moment, pondering his last statement with a little apprehension. "If by chance they do find the safe house, search for the trapdoor in the study. It will take you to the hidden hangar in the mountain. There are more doors in the woods, but I don't want to get you lost searching for them."

Emily helped Elly out of her wheelchair and guided her to the passenger seat. "We will be fine," the blue-haired woman said, sparing her own concerned glance at Rowan over her shoulder as she climbed into the driver's side. "You'll be fine too, right?"

"Yes," he smiled softly, winking. "It takes a lot to get rid of me."

His fiancee laughed. "Now _that_ is true." _Love you._ She added with a thought.

Love you too.

"Be safe son!" Elly called from the passenger seat.

"I will!" Rowan said, and he turned to wave at the faces of Caleb, James and Alora who were squashed against the van's back door. "Now get out of here you lot, before the claws of the Revenant are on your tail!"

The van pulled out of the driveway and sped down the silent street. Rowan stood his motorbike, which sat on the lawn, and watched them disappear around a corner before entering the house.

"Now to get the place ready for our visitors," he chuckled, giving the street one last scan before closing the door behind him.

The storm hit, and its rain poured furiously upon the rooftops of the houses.

Rowan paced the kitchen, formulating a plan. He had locked all the doors and turned off all the lights in the house to give a sense that everyone was still asleep. The thought of wiring the doors with explosives was his first idea, but he quickly abandoned it, realising the devastation it could bring to the nearby houses. Not to mention the further attention from the fire department and police.

_No, that's just erratic thinking._ He thought, narrowing his brows in frustration.

He pulled out his cell phone and dialled the number he had called only a minute before.

A few rings and then a deep and husky voice said in a harsh whisper: "Hi, you've reached Jai Absolom's number. I don't know how you got this number, and I'm not sure I want to know how, but leave a voice message and I _might_ get back to you. Bye."

"Its me again, buddy. I need you and Arthur down by dad's secret house as soon as possible. Like I said before, this is serious, there are a ton of Revenant after us. Hurry up, I'm counting on you."

Click.

It was probably a foolish move to stand alone against the Revenant—

_It is._ A voice suddenly popped in his head. _Very foolish._

_What—who was that?_ Rowan replied to the darkness, dropping his phone in his leather jacket's inner pocket. He swung to face the living room where he thought he saw a shadow move. His eyes fell on the parted curtains of one of the windows, where the street light outside was silhouetting a wind-shaken branch. It looked like a skeletal hand raking at the glass. _Answer me!_ He found the courage to demand from the unseen speaker.

Silence except the low drumming of the rain outside.

The ticking of the clock in the kitchen sounded loud in the eerie silence that shrouded the house. His heart beat thudded in time with the clock, and Rowan could hear his own breathing.

The clock face read: 11:00 PM.

_Revenant or rebel, I do not fear you._ Rowan spoke again, leaving the kitchen and stalking up the hallway to the bedrooms at the back of the house. The family pictures were barely visible in the low light; however his eyes were quickly adjusting. His glaive was in his hand, squeezed tight, its blade rippling and spiking at the skittishness of his thoughts.

_I am neither_. The voice came again from no direction, but all corners of his mind. _Do not be scared of me, Son of Thomas._

"You knew my father?" Rowan said, raising a brow. "Are you Atlantean? Thulese? Avalonian?"

I am none of them, but all. A consciousness from the ancient time, which survived the Fall.

No one survived the Fall.

Some did. But I am not here to argue that.

Why are you here, then?

I was a friend of Toram—Thomas as you call him. Came to him at times when things got desperate, to help however best I could. I believe one of those times is now. You face a great many enemies, lore-kin, and I fear you cannot defeat them all without my help.

Rowan turned his head in every direction as he moved through the house. Finally he came before Jack's room. The door was left ajar, beckoning him to enter.

_How can I trust your word, without seeing you? Or knowing your name?_ Rowan said, opening the door with a finger. _I need a name._

There will be no name for now, because names are irrelevant to me. They mean nothing to my kind.

_Your kind?_ Rowan edged the door open even more with the toe of his boot. Jack's room was empty. Grey shapes in the gloom revealed a made-bed, a desk and lamp, and a bookshelf in the corner by the window. The closed curtains blocked the outside view of the backyard; however the cat, Jinx, sat on the sill, half covered by one side of the curtain, her tail flicking about as it peered outside. _What is your kind?_

There was suddenly a rattle from the front door, as faint as it was from the back of the house, and Rowan threw his gaze out the bedroom door and down the hallway into the darkness beyond.

_They are here_. Came the voice again.

When Rowan looked back at the window, Jinx was gone.

Against a fading night sky, diluted by the orange of a distant morning sun beneath the horizon, the Revenant and rebels descended on Hope's Hill Terrace. It was somewhat reluctant at first, due to the weakening of night; but when the sudden rain-storm broke, it gave them a new cloak against any watching eyes, and their shadowy silhouettes moved with confidence as well as urgency. They clamoured over the rooftops, climbed into the backyards, creeped up to every door, and peered in every window. Kaelan's men did not know which house the Grey's resided in, but they knew the area. Veil reported to Xharan that she had heard snippets of conversation from the children earlier that night in the park, and had waited in the trees until she was certain who they were. She knew they wouldn't have walked far.

There were countless numbers of them, all clad in black and armed, and moving in small groups. Rebel Atlanteans, Revenants and human servants that were lore-kin at some stage, but had fallen to the temptations of Kaelan's visions.

Dogs barked in the warm downpour. Those that had not been taken inside their homes howled at the shadows that searched the yards and lawns. The shadows that stood still against the trees when the home-owners gazed outside their windows to search for the phantoms that stirred their pets' ire.

When the search was growing risky against the speed of the dawn, Veil and her group finally found the lore-kin's motorbike sheltered under the open driveway of twenty-eight Hope's Hill Terrace, covered by old bed sheets. Rowan's poor attempt at hiding the evidence made Veil laugh, and a dark glee filled her red-glowing eyes.

"This is the house," she said, pointing to the front door. "They will either be asleep, or waiting for us. I think it will be the later, as they now have lore-kin shepherds in their mix."

"Shall I summon the Dark Tide?" Dart growled eagerly over her shoulder. "They are two blocks away."

"No," the Revenant hissed. "This is our glory. I do not want Xharan to have a chance at exulting his men over Gha'haram's. Call the others from across the street. Move silently. The back door must be secured and watched."

Dart nodded, and his heavy bulk vanished into the rain. The trail of red light from his Doom Stone shard glittering into the dying night like a swarm of fireflies. The rain would soon be gone, she predicted, so they had to make their move now.

"The children will be ours," the pretty, blonde girl said to herself as she began to approach the front door. Her long, black nails, suddenly grew a couple of inches longer...

**CHAPTER 12: AN ANCIENT ALLY**

"We forgot Jinx!" Alora cried from the back of the van, over Elly's shoulder and against the hammer of the wind and rain outside. "She will be scared!"

"Don't worry, bub!" Emily shouted back. "Rowan will get her. I'm sure she'll be just fine."

"She won't be just fine," the young girl humphed, turning to face James. "She will be hiding under Jack's bed as usual." Her face suddenly turned hopeful and she tugged on Jame's sleeve to get his attention. "Maybe Jinx will use the flap to get out and go to the neighbour's house. She loves playing with Fritz and Kelly."

"Maybe," James said, his voice and thoughts distant.

"James, why are you ignoring me? This is serious!"

"I'm not ignoring you, gnat. There is something on my mind. I keep thinking about what Rowan said about him giving up his life for us. He said he was willing to die for us, Alora. Do you understand what that means?"

"Yes," she replied in a whisper, her eyes downcast.

"I have to get back to him—"

"You're not going anywhere Einstein," Caleb intervened, turning around on his box to face the siblings. "As smart as you say you are, you're pretty stupid not to realise that it is _you_ that these creatures are after. You and Alora."

"He's not stupid," Alora defended her brother.

"Don't worry about it," James said, holding a hand to his sister to calm her. "Caleb is just scared."

"And so should you!" Caleb said indignantly. "There are crazy monsters out there that can read our thoughts and possibly eat us, and you want to go back and confront them?"

"I killed one, remember?" The younger boy was angry, but his shaking hands showed he was still unnerved with the memory of the fight in the park. "I am sure they can die again just as easy as that."

"You are stubborn you know that," Caleb said, looking out of the van window at the pelting rain. "Not like Jack at all. More like... me."

James half smiled at the similarity and said, "Then I suppose you understand then."

"Yes," Caleb laughed ironically, "I do."

"We're almost leaving town," Emily's voice called back over the boxes that they leaned against. "The mountain road is just up ahead."

"Do you think Kaelan has his spies in the forest?" Alora asked, resting her head on James' shoulder. "He might know about dad's second house."

"I doubt it," Caleb scoffed, "those ugly things look like they hang out in some of the bars I go too."

James laughed, then quickly covered his outburst with a hand. When he spoke, the corners of his mouth flickered amusement against his stern visage. "They feed off of the living, Rowan said. And when there aren't any people to eat, where else will you find living things? The forest of course."

"You're right," Caleb replied, his eyes drifting into an alluring memory. "You know... Cassandra may have long claws and a red stone stuck in her forehead. But she sure is pretty."

James shook his head and rested his head against Alora's.

_They are watching the back door._ The voice warned Rowan as he made his way to the lounge room. He looked back over his shoulder and grimaced. He felt like a cornered mouse. _But there isn't many there—perhaps three? I will keep an eye on the front door, so maybe you can fight your way into the backyard and escape over a fence._

"Giving me pointers now, on a hopeless fight?" Rowan asked with his lopsided grin. "I can take more than three."

The front door looks to be six or seven—

"Oh." The lore-kin weighed up his odds and turned towards the back door.

— _But I can't be sure. My power is stretched over nodes hidden in this house, and I cannot see beyond the porch. Toram put those nodes in the house's foundations so I could keep watch over everybody..._

Then suddenly out of the silence a large crash hit the front door.

Run!

"I—" But before he could finish his protest, the front door of the house caved in and the edge of a large axe glimmered through. Rowan turned and ran back down the hallway just as the front door was hacked again and finally kicked off its hinges. A group of shadows rushed into the lounge room with a gush of rain and wind following after them.

Rowan turned right at the end of the hallway and darted passed the open door of Jack's room and the adjacent bathroom, until he found the small flight of steps to the left that led down into the laundry. Holding the rails on either side, he slid down the short flight of steps and ambled up to the backdoor that exited to the backyard. He pressed his cheek against the wood of the door, his eyes peering warily out of the rain-lathered glass window. The moonlight and stars were gone, replaced with the grey of morning and the heavy rain. A shadow moved by the pond, and he pulled back away from the window, swallowing hard.

"Wolves at the door," he whispered the old saying, gripping his blade firmly.

He suddenly heard feet running on creaky floorboards above his head, and knew that if he didn't leave the house soon, they would find him in the laundry. The fight would not end pleasantly for him, he suspected.

Hurry!

Taking a deep breath, Rowan flung the bolt of the lock back into its holster and kicked the battered door open with one boot. A blast of stinging rain pelted his face as he leaped out into the sodden backyard with his glaive raised high...

Veil let three of her men through the front door before she followed after, her nails splayed open to viciously gouge the lore-kin she expected to find inside, waiting to spring on her.

"There is no escape, fools!" the girl shouted against the dull thunder that broke above the house, peeling back her hood and revealing her pretty, pale face beneath. It was glistening wet from the rain, and her blonde locks popped out of the grey trim of the hood and bounced on her shoulders as she moved. Burning red eyes scanned the lounge room vigorously, hungry to find her targets. "You might as well give up this game of cat and mouse..."

The house appeared empty. Her gloating expression dropped from her face, followed by confusion, and then irritated fury.

"Gone!"

One of her men, a human lackey with a thick black beard and tattoos up both his arms, walked up to the fridge and flung it open. "Empty," he said, turning to face his master, "I don't get it. They took everything."

Two more were rummaging in the pantry with equally confused looks. A couple of gnarled-faced Revenants pushed passed the men and stalked down the hallway, entering the bedrooms. The violent sound of beds and wardrobes being upended and hurled against the walls thundered back to Veil's ears.

"Quiet, you block-heads!" she hissed, making her way to the hallway. "You'll alert the neighbours. The storm isn't that heavy. The thunder won't keep us hidden for long."

"And I suppose that axe through the front door wasn't subtle?" Dart replied, sarcastically. The large Revenant leaned in the doorway of Alora's room. He held a toy bear by its throat with his broad fist, squeezing tightly. "You need to realise, Veil, that we no longer fear the humans. Let them come."

"Don't be a fool," Veil spat, grabbing his collar and pulling the thick-necked Revenant down to her height. "Gha'haram entrusted this search to _me_. And if I say hack that door down with an axe, but don't flip a bed upside down... then that is what you do."

She finally let go of the Revenant, who curled back up to his towering height. Dart rubbed his neck with a grimace—one of Veil's claws had cut deep into his freshly regenerated skin.

"Now, we must—"

Rock and roll music suddenly exploded in one of the rooms at the back of the house: Jack's room. Almost bowling Dart over, Veil pushed her way back into hall and hissed to the closest Revenant who was poking his head through the room's slightly ajar door, "Lurk, what is it?"

"Ah... no one. The room is empty."

"Then turn that horrible music off!"

" _Let us ride into the night! With wheels of fire burning bright!"_

"Brutal," Dart said from behind her, grinning with approval to the screeching guitars and pounding drums. "The biker has taste."

" _No one can stop us––we the immortals! No one can defeat us––we the immortals, of rock and roll! Let us play into the night! Let us play—we'll win the fight!"_

"Rubbish," Veil cursed, then made for Jack's room, wanting to finish the hunt as swiftly as possible. Her clawed fingers were about to pull the hunching Revenant by the door out of her warpath when the music suddenly stopped.

Lurk turned to his lieutenant with a perplexed look and said, "Must be an alarm or something?"

A loud crash from the kitchen pulled both their attentions back down the opposite end of the hallway.

"Someone is messing with us," Dart said impatiently, cautiously moving towards the lounge room where he left some of his men. "Ace, Tricks, Rigger..." He called out in low but firm voice. No one answered.

When he rounded the corner into kitchen the rain and thunder had lulled to a silent whisper of wind, which wheezed through doorless portal of the front porch. Laying on the ground in the kitchen under a pile of broken plates was one of the man-lackeys. Two more stood perfectly still by the dining table, their eyes wide in horror.

"What is it, you fools?" Dart demanded, and a sudden flash of lighting outside the window cast his looming shadow against the hallway wall. "Speak up! Tricks!"

"The-the plates... they just flew out of the cupboard right at Rigger and knocked him stone cold out! Like a bloody poltergeist!"

"We are the _only_ demons here!" Dart growled, his Doom Stone shard burning furiously under his hood, and the spider-webs of red light fanning out from his eyes across his temples. The Revenant lost his steam when he spied from the corner of his eye a pile of plates levitating out of an open cupboard. Then, in mid-air, like a flicking finger dealing a deck of cards, they began to fly across the room at the last two men. Rigger and Ace tried to run, but were both hit in back of the head by a barrage of porcelain frisbees.

Dart fell on all fours and scurried behind the kitchen's counter where he waited until the last plate had smashed harmlessly against the far wall. Hearing the silence he was waiting for, Dart leaped up on his feet and ran for the open door. He was almost out when a heavy force smashed into his back, knocking the wind out of him and sending him tumbling into the ground. He lay sprawled on top of the hewed rubble of the front door, inches from the welcome mat. Rolling onto his back Dart gasped in horror at the falling tower of white metal that rushed down to meet him.

From the hallway, Veil saw the fridge fly from its alcove and knocked Dart over, then without the aid of physical hands, tip over on top of him.

"The Grey children have learned a few tricks," she grinned darkly, amused at the enemy she faced. "Cunning little creatures—"

A silhouette of what appeared to be a small girl behind one of the curtains in the lounge room suddenly caught Veil's eye. A girl, with piggy-tails and a fanned out dress, crouching down under the sill, shivering. The dark grin grew wider, and Veil began to laugh softly. Traversing the bodies of her fallen men and the upturned dining table and chairs, she crept ever so softly towards the concealed figure. The wind from the front doorway sent the old, dusty curtains into a billowing dance; but its force was not strong enough to reveal what was behind it.

"Don't be scared, little one," Veil said, her claws growing even longer and sharper. The flesh around her jaw began to flake and flicker off in black scabs, her eager hunger growing with each step towards her victim. It was only now that Veil realised she hadn't fed in awhile, and her body was beginning to waste away again. "It is tempting to eat you instead of capture you for the master. But his wrath is greater than my hunger..."

Her last words blew away with the wind. Reaching out, Veil's clawed hand pulled the curtain back to reveal... a doll. Its plastic, lifeless face stared back at her with rosy cheeks that did nothing to change its blank expression, and it continued to shiver as if possessed by a spirit.

"Tricked!" The left side of Veil's face was nothing but a gaping hole now, revealing her black skeletal jaw. "I will find those little whelps and tear them to pieces—argh!"

Veil suddenly found the curtain snaked around her and squeezing tightly. Her arms were pinned down, and the grey curtain continued to coil down her legs, where it pulled tight at her ankles. She crashed to the floor in a squirming bundle.

"Let me go! Curse you!"

The doll looked on in silence, the lightening reflecting gleefully on its plastic face.

Rowan tackled the Revenant with all his force, throwing the creature into the muddy ground. Luckily, he managed to dig his heels into the soft turf and spin his momentum into a low crouch without falling over. Kneeling on the creature's chest, he dislodged its Doom Stone shard with the tip of his sword, then crushed it against the stone footpath with the metal heel of his right boot.

The soft thuds of running feet on wet grass caught his attention as he stood up, looking between his rain-soaked fringe that was water-stuck to both his cheeks. Three more pale-faced horrors emerged from the mist of rain with evil grins. Rowan shifted into a defensive stance—the shattered Doom Stone shard glittered under his boot, which he gave one last twist, grinding it into dust. Gripping his bloody glaive, he edged away from the Revenant, his eye on the side gate that exited to the front yard and driveway.

A loud crash from inside the house suddenly drew Rowan and his undead adversaries' attentions up at the foggy window of Jack's room.

_Who could it be?_ Rowan's mind raced. Then he remembered the invisible ally and grinned to himself. _Whoever you are, thank you._

The Revenant turned their hungry, red eyes back to Rowan; their bloodlust was far too strong to allow their thoughts to linger on what could be happening inside.

"Veil and Dart will take care of that," one with mud-stained pants and forearms laughed mockingly to his companions. He had obviously been crawling on all fours. "Our job is to watch the back door. Capture the kids, and... feed on the rest."

"And this guy 'aint a kid," another added, licking his cracked lips. His face looked dry and parched even under the rain. Rowan's eyes drifted down to the creature's hands, which held two curved daggers. "My body needs to be 'stitched up', I can feel my insides seeping out."

"Not what you bargained for, hey?" Rowan taunted the Revenant who complained. "Gha'haram promised you unending life, but left you with a wound that will never heal."

"Shut your mouth!" the Revenant shouted, raising his daggers up to strike. "Its a better life than rummaging in the sewers and dining with the rats!"

"Get him!" the third shouted, lunging forward with the swing of metal-toothed rake he had found in the yard.

Rowan grabbed the wooden shaft of the rake and swung it under his armpit, locking it tight, then punched the Revenant's forehead with his glaive. The weapon shifted into a spike-knuckled gauntlet and smashed the Doom Stone shard to pieces. The Revenant's red-lit eyes went black and it fell to the ground, unmoving. An instant later its body ignited into flames, and its charred corpse hissed under the spitting rain.

"You're dead, pal!" the Revenant with two daggers howled, and made a few stabs at the air in front of Rowan.

The lore-kin arched backwards, avoiding a disembowelling from the fury of the strikes, and spun down low, attempting to sweep the creature over with the rake's shaft. Nimble-footed, the Revenant laughed mockingly and leaped over the attack, landing both its leather boots on the yard tool and pinning it to the ground. A swift boot to the jaw sent Rowan reeling backwards, then tripping over a pile of hose, and sagging against the neighbour's wooden fence. His arms clung to the fence palings as if he was a scarecrow, his head swinging low below his shoulders. Spitting blood and his vision blurred from the tears in his eyes and the rain, Rowan used every ounce of strength to lean forward and find his footing, but began to stumble and fell head first into the mud. His shirt, which had snagged on the wooden fence, tore as he fell, revealing his muscular body under his leather jacket. Around his chest spiralled the black shapes of two dragons facing each other, with claws locked.

Both Revenant laughed in amusement at him laying semi-conscious in a large puddle of rain-water and thick mud, clutching his head.

"Nice kick," the other Revenant said, cracking his knuckles. The red fires in his eyes seemed to be bobbing about in excitement. "Pity we have to cut 'im up."

"Such a pity," the dagger-wielding Revenant chuckled, and swung another boot into Rowan's ribs. The lore-kin groaned and curled up on his side, coughing blood into a puddle of water that swallowed half his face. "Okay pal, time to finish this."

The Revenant dropped down on his knees and put his dagger under Rowan's chin, whispering hoarsely in his ear, "You want to die first, or should I just suck your life-force straight out of you so you can feel everything?"

"Come on, come on," the other Revenant said angrily, trying to reach for Rowan over the other's shoulder. "Leave some for me!"

"Nah," the dagger-wielder growled, shrugging his companion away, "I think you should feel this one, pal. You killed our friends in the park, and I don't think you deserve the honour of a good death."

He stabbed his daggers into the ground, and then grabbed Rowan's face in his thick hands and pushed his face completely into the puddle that was slowly diluting his blood. A burning pain seared through Rowan's skin where the hands held him, and burned deep into his flesh as if his face was being pushed on a hot stove. He began thrashing against the hidden strength of the Revenant as he felt the water filling his nostrils and into his lungs.

Great. If I'm not Revenant food, I'll drown in a puddle!

A wall of black was fast approaching Rowan's vision, and he felt the last of his strength give way. Hands slackening, he accepted his fate. His last breath a silent scream that bubbled in his throat.

Then the force of the thick hands on his head was suddenly gone, and so was the pain it delivered. _Am I dead, already?_ He thought, confused. His numb body felt as heavy as lead; but managed to find a hidden reserve of strength to roll onto his back, letting the water from the puddle gush out of his nose and the corner of his mouth. Rowan spluttered and then coughed raggedly, swallowing some of the muddied water. Climbing onto his hands and knees, a subtle, cold wind on his skin tickled his eyes open, and Rowan saw both Revenant suspended in midair above him.

_You are not dead, Rowan, Son of Eleanor._ The mysterious voice said in his mind. _Not while I am near._

The Revenant were screaming, but Rowan could barely hear them. The rain and wind had picked up again and this time it was wailing down on the yard and the surrounding houses as if it were the herald of a cyclone that had come in from the sea. Elly's wind chimes under the overhang of the roof near the clothes line were ringing madly, and the old tree by Jack's window was almost bent over like an old man, its branches lashing leaves against the foggy window.

In the tumult of the storm, the mysterious force levitated two large rocks up out of the nearby pond and flung them at the Revenant's flailing silhouettes in the grey of the rain-mist. The projectiles thudded against their heads, crushing their Doom Stone shards, and putting out their red fires. Two lifeless bodies dropped to the ground in burning trails of black ash.

Breathing heavily, Rowan staggered up to side gate that had flung off its latch from the wind, and was whining back and forth.

_Wait!_ The voice returned, desperate. _You must dig under the old tree! There you will find more weapons to help you._

_I don't have time_. Rowan mind formed the words against the grogginess of his injuries. _I can barely stand, and I have to ride to Southlake—_

Dig me up, fool! I have power to restore your strength.

But the others.

Those in the house are incapacitated for now. The others are searching much further down the street. It will take them longer to figure out what happened to Veil and her men. You must do it now! Before it is too late!

Rowan turned back to the tree, and looked at the old oak for a moment. Shrugging, he staggered towards its ancient girth and fell against it. His arms stretched wide and clung to its trunk in an impossible embrace. The rain pelted down on his weary face, and he opened his mouth to taste it.

Don't waste time, dig!

_Okay, okay._ Rowan dropped on his hands and knees and began to claw at the muddy ground at the base of the tree. After a couple of minutes he then looked futilely at his effort—a small hole—and sighed. Then his eyes widened at a sudden thought, and he held out his glaive-gauntlet in front of him with both hands. A shimmer of light and he was looking at a shovel. Throwing his aching muscles into the task at hand, Rowan dug at the ground, shovelling as fast as his strength would allow. He was about to give up and ask what was the point to his mysterious ally, when the tip of his glaive-shovel hit something hard.

Get it out!

_Will you just calm down_. Rowan replied, frowning at the persisting voice somewhere above him. His eyes squinted against the rain through the leaves, finding nothing.

Rowan's strong hands reached into the muddy hole and clasped onto the corners of what appeared to be a block of wood. There were joints which alluded to a lid. Clasping on tightly, his legs locked into a bracing position, he heaved with every ounce of his strength. In a spray of mud and loose rocks, he managed to dislodge a long, rectangular object out from under a stubborn, thick root. It was a wooden chest.

Open it! Open it!

Rowan ignored the voice and began hammering the solidified mud that encrusted the lid's latch with the end of his glaive-shovel's handle. When he cleared the latch and pulled it back, he flung the lid open without caution. Inside was a thick brown blanket wrapped around what were undoubtedly three glaives in their sword shapes. There was also a copper cube of light weight with strange etchings on its surface, a leather-braided necklace that held a small diamond in a copper claw, a rusted metal helmet of Atlantean make—evident by the curved back eagle wings that merged with a circlet shaped like ocean waves—and two rusty gauntlets that had blades attached above the knuckle guards. Thomas' secret cache no doubt.

"Pieces of Atlantis," Rowan murmured in awe. "But how will this help?"

The glaives are for James, Alora and their annoying friend of dubious virtue.

"Caleb," Rowan answered with a lowered brow, sounding unimpressed with the speaker's judgement of character.

Yes, Caleb. I suspect he has a long way to go—but something you can help him with. Now touch the cube. I will give you the strength you need.

The lore-kin brushed his fingers cautiously over the strange looking device, and suddenly felt a surge of vitality rush through him. Grinning at the feeling of rejuvenation, Rowan eagerly grabbed it with both hands and felt the invisible energy waken every part of his weary body like a huge dose of caffeine. His cuts and bruises were suddenly gone.

"How?" he asked in disbelief, his eyes tracing both his arms. The aches in his jaw and ribs from the Revenant's kicks were also a faint memory.

I used much of my power to restore you. Now, I must rest. It may take awhile before I wake up again and speak, so take the contents of this wooden chest with you and quickly catch up with the others.

"But who are you? Where are you?"

_I am Arajasta_. The voice finally said, and it seemed to come from the cube now. _Caught by Osirian trickery! I slew an army before they bound me in here. A prisoner of the Reflecting Cube: the thing you hold in your hand._

Rowan gazed in awe at the copper cube—its surface etched in ancient Osirian symbols, which Thomas had taught him to read when he was young. Pictographs of dragons and sky-ships fighting, and a giant crushing an army with a raised foot.

_That is me._ Arajasta said, preempting his next question. _The Giant of Ardhis. A metaphor, really, for I have no form. This cell was made for my kind—we who live in the Aether. The Azlazarani._

"A False God!" Rowan cried, remember Mathias' tales of the ancient people who had given up their bodies to live in the Aether, the spirit of the planet where all the memories went after death. The Azlazarani were the men and women who had made the Crown of Dreams before the Fall.

_A False God, indeed._ Arajasta laughed without insult. _I was a friend of your father's, but we were separated during the war. I waited thousands and thousands of years before he found me again under the new seas and set me watch over his house._ _I awoken the dreams in Jack, James and Alora—_

Sounds of movement in the laundry shook Rowan to his feet. Then he saw another Revenant lumbering into the yard, an arm shielding its face from the rain.

Quickly, run!

The Revenant saw him, shouted something incoherent and gave chase. Before he could reach him however, a roof gutter groaned and snapped off its supports, swinging down and knocking the Revenant back through the laundry door and into a wall.

Rowan picked up the chest in one hand and gripped his glaive in other. Giving the backdoor one last glance, he pushed open the side gate and ran down the strip of grass that bordered the neighbour's fence towards the front lawn. Under the driveway he found his motorbike—the sheet he had thrown over it was pooled on the ground around its tyres. Rowan's eyes moves to the front door, which was no longer there. Wind-swept rain blew furiously inside, and he could only guess the damage it had caused.

_They're still in there_. He thought, gripping his glaive tighter.

Rowan then crouched low and scurried over to a thick bush at the edge of the front lawn. There he peered through the leaves down the street, looking both ways. He could see figures of men searching three houses down on the opposite side of Hope's Hill Terrace. Tall men stepping effortlessly over the fences with long strides. Rebel Lemurians he surmised. They hadn't seen him yet, so he had a chance to escape without a fight.

Quickly Rowan hurried back to the driveway where he pulled his motorbike helmet on and emptied the box's contents into the back saddles. The glaives shortened in length with a commanding thought so he could fasten the straps over the top of each saddle. Securing them fast, he climbed onto his black Suzuki Intruder and began rolling it to the bottom of the driveway. Just as the front tyre dipped into the gutter, a black shadow shot out through the front door and leaped onto the backseat, nuzzling up against his back.

Jinx.

"You scared the hell out of me, fur-ball," he laughed softly, stroking the cat with a finger. Jinx meowed and jumped on his shoulder. Rowan grabbed her and popped her down the front of his leather jacket. Zipping it up a little higher so only her head stuck out under his chin, Rowan lowered his vizor and started the bike's engine.

Then another shadow burst from the door. The fabric of the shredded living room curtain swirled and scattered out of its way as a lithe figure charge straight at him. Its small, petite frame and blonde locks draping over each shoulder gave away its identity to Rowan without any second guesses.

"Not so fast, lore-kin!" Veil screamed, leaping over the porch as agile as Jinx, with her claws ready for his throat.

Rowan hit the escalator and roared off the driveway and down the road like a bolt of lighting. Veil's frustrated screams raged behind him; but were quickly drowned out by the relentless storm and the thrumming of wind in his ears.

**CHAPTER 13: THE LIBRARY**

Beneath the oasis, the Silversong descended into the dark infinity of the wide tunnel, which burrowed deep into the earth. The stone pillars that had parted the body of water and sand floor above them had used some sort of gravitational force—much like Will's bracelet. They had now retracted back into the sides of the tunnel, resealing the oasis and hiding any signs of the Lemurians' passage.

"It was rebuilt by the Lore Keepers," Mathias said to Jack. "The Great Underway is a network of underground tunnels for our sky-ships to travel between The Library in Alexandria and other locations we hold. They were originally constructed by the Osirian Empire thousands and thousands of years ago, but are now forgotten by her people's descendants."

"I'm sure the Sun-King of Osiria—if he was alive today—would not be too pleased to know that Lemurians are now using his tunnels and living under one of his cities," Cloak laughed in his whispery voice.

"Fate carves strange paths," Mathias replied.

The Silversong descended to the bottom of the tunnel, which connected to a vast, dome shaped chamber. More tunnels broke away from the chamber; and when Jack looked carefully he could see that its walls were made of black marble and etched in silver and gold, detailing symbols of what appeared to be a great star map. The gold and silver planets and stars glowed brightly in the darkness of the chamber, but the source of the reflected light could not be seen. Above the numerous tunnel entrances were Osirian words explaining where they led.

Before Jack could ask which way they were going, Will turned the ship around to face towards a tunnel that had a symbol of three open eyes whose lashes were sun rays.

"Jack," Will said, indicating to the symbol with a nod, "that is the Osirian symbol of knowledge. It is a marker that tells us this is the way to the Library."

"Where do the other passages lead?" Jack asked, his hand squeezing Laya's tight in excitement.

"Many places," Mathias answered, "and many dead ends. Some of those tunnels have yet to be restored. Our second largest colony resides in the White City of Zerzura, which lays buried deep under a mountain range to the east. There is also Seron, another city that we are currently rebuilding. It is half devoured by an underground chasm. And Iram far to the north, whose silent halls are untouched, but guarded by terrible booby traps.

"These Osirian cities were swallowed up by the earth and sea during the Fall. Buried this deep under the desert sands has kept them safe from excavation and plunder. New Osiria are more concerned with their own progress and wars to even know of my people's comings and goings."

"But for how long," Cloak asked rhetorically.

Jack wondered that too.

The Silversong flew deeper into the Underway.

The ship's invisibility was disabled to save power, and it was now using the white glow from its hull to illuminate the journey through the darkness. It was the same ethereal light generated from the Lemurians' eyes, and Jack derived from this and the skull-cap that Will used that the ship worked solely on psychic energy. This led him to wonder if the ship ran on its pilot's psychic energy or some archaic engine or battery.

"What were the barrels in the hangar for then?" Jack spoke his thoughts aloud.

"What?" Layla asked, snapping out of her own reverie of the past events.

"If the Silversong is powered by psychic energy, why were there barrels in dad's hangar?"

"Oh, the barrels. Um, they're just full of diamonds from the ocean floor. They are used for building sky-ship engines and weapon systems. The diamonds can channel and amplify psychic energy."

"Just diamonds?" Jack shouted in surprise.

"Yeah, nothing special," Layla half-laughed in confusion at Jack's sudden excitement. "You sound like you've never seen that many diamonds before?"

Jack was about to give a lengthy explanation as to why a barrel full of diamonds is a big thing; but stopped, shook his head and said, "Never mind."

The tunnel finally ended at a great wall of stone, which was marked with the symbol of knowledge: the Three Eyes. It was the gate to The Library.

A moment of hushed silence followed. Then Mathias' eyes ignited into white fire and the giant Atlantean reached out with his mind and began a telepathic conversation with someone beyond the wall. Jack could only pick up a few words, such as "...friends..." and "...son of Toram..." and assumed that Mathias was relaying their find to whoever controlled the gate.

The guarded conversation did not last long, before the stone wall began to rumble up into the ceiling, revealing a great cavern beyond. Soft, gold lights from within The Library leaked into the tunnel and washed over the Silversong.

"We are finally home," Mathias said.

The Library was the remnants of the original Royal Library of Alexandria, which Julius Caesar had allegedly burnt down by accident when destroying his own ships. However, Jack had been told by Mathias that some of the librarians had managed to save the ancient books—most of which had survived the Fall—and re-established the library beneath the city in the ruins of an old Osirian city that they had uncovered. This small group was called the Historian Brotherhood, and they spent decades secretly restoring the library bit by bit while slowly adding to it.

When the Lemurians came to Egypt from Europe—where they had lived for many years in the ruins of Avalon upon their arrival—they first settled in the deserts near Alexandria. It was in the mountains that they were visited by the waning numbers of the brotherhood, who entrusted the Library to them before disappearing from the world forever, never to return.

The combined effort of the original Historian Brotherhood and the Lore Keepers in building the new Library and restoring the city around it was a grand sight to behold. It was built within a massive, square cavern that rivaled the girth of Alexandria itself. The Lemurians dwelt in square Osirian buildings made from gold patterned, black marble, which were divided into blocks like a modern city. Each building fitted neatly against its neighbours like puzzle blocks, forming precise geometry that echoed the design of the pyramids.

Spiralling around Greek-style marble columns that held up the cavern roof were stairs that connected to a network of walkways and far-spanning bridges hundreds and hundreds of feet above the city. The bridges and columns were also covered in gloam vines—relatives of the sunbark trees and grown from seeds rescued by the Lemurians—that entwined themselves in spidery webs and glowed brightly in the dark, filling the Library with a golden hue much like the sky of a sunrise.

Four wide roads divided the city into quadrants, which started at the Library's center and ended in the four corners of the cavern, connecting to four landing fields that housed the sky-ships restored by the Lemurians. In the center of the city the roads converged into a roundabout, surrounding a park of glowing sunbark trees. This sanctuary was called the Sun Garden and it was a place of meditation and worship to the Old Gods.

Built against the far northern cavern wall and connected by a fifth road from the park, stood the original library: a semi-circular building with a half-domed roof, which was surrounded by eight towering statues of long dead heroes from the ancient times. They had been scavenged from the Egyptian deserts and the oceans beyond and were weathered and missing body parts, making their identities a mystery. Guardians of Knowledge they were called, or the Fathers of Osiria, for their true names had long since been forgotten. They were the last of old world's mighty architectural sculptures to survive the Fall.

The original Library was called the Chamber of Lore and it housed the city's greatest treasure: thousands of books, scrolls, parchments, and tomes in various languages and from various times, stretching as far back as the Three Empires. These works were displayed on sixty-foot tall, dark-stained, wooden bookshelves that lined the walls of a part of the chamber called the Inner Sanctum. Beyond that room was the Hall of Lords and within it was a great stair case called The Rise, which was carved into the rear cavern wall and rose to the surface of the Egyptian city of Alexandria. The Rise, originally built by the Historian Brotherhood, was regularly used by the Keepers and Lore-kin to journey to-and-fro between their secret city and their daily business with the modern world. Above the entrance of The Rise—two stone doors some twenty-feet tall—was the High Seat of Atlantis. The marble thrown sat upon a ledge above the door and was accessible by two flights of stairs on either side. This was where the leader of the Lore-Keepers sat. Many years ago it had been Thomas' chair; now it bore the weight and troubles of the wise Oreus Isaleph.

Oreus' lordship of the Library was fair and just, and his mind was attuned to trade, diplomacy and the Arts, which allowed the beauty of Lemuria to once again flourish in the hidden city. Unfortunately, unlike his predecessor, Oreus lacked the military experience and strength needed to keep the fear of Kaelan and his rebels out of the hearts of his people.

"Arai!" Oreus shouted merrily to the group of Lemurians as they disembarked from the Silversong. "Arai, sah'est!" The grey-haired man's arms were out stretched in welcome, and his bright, blue eyes glittered brightly in the darkness of the field where the ship had landed. Upon his head rested a reef of silverfire-leaves—from another tree native to the old world—that symbolised the mantle of his office.

Six guards of the City Watch, armed with glaives, hovered about him—their faces hidden by metal visors that bore a single horizontal slit for their eyes. When they saw Mathias they saluted him, acknowledging their general. He had chosen them from amongst his most loyal soldiers to guard Oreus with their lives.

A large, flat metallic disc hovered stationary above the field behind the guards. It was a skyjammer, and in its center hummed a diamond filled with psychic energy—its engine.

As Oreus and his men approached them, Jack noticed they were very tall people indeed—like Mathias—and this made him feel quite small.

"Arai," Mathias said back to the man in Atlantean. He then turned to Jack and said, "This is Oreus, the High Librarian of the Lore-Keepers. The Lord of the Hidden City. He also knew your father very well."

"Perhaps he will be a friend of mine too," Jack said with a hopeful smile. Mathias simply nodded.

Breaking away from his personal guard, Oreus hastened to Mathias and embraced him heartily. He looked physically and mentally weary; but appeared to draw strength from the stoic general.

"I came as soon as I heard of your arrival," Oreus said in a voice that carried a tone of relief. "Your timing could not have been any better."

"Why? What has happened?" Mathias asked, pulling away and staring at him intensely.

The guards caught up and fanned out around the company, keeping their eyes to the darkness around the landing field.

"Nothing, nothing to concern yourself at this moment, dear friend," Oreus replied quickly, then turned to the others to divert the conversation away from Mathias' question. "Now here is a face I haven't seen in many, many years."

Jack found Oreus' attention fall on him and the man's blue eyes lost their weariness and glowed even brighter. He ambled over to the teenager, knelt down and embraced him. Jack found a comforting warmth emanate from the High Librarian, which reminded him of his mother. "Hello, Jack."

"Hello, Orus... Oreus!"

Layla and Will snickered. Mathias frowned. Cloak rolled his eyes.

The man with rust-grey hair laughed. Up close, his sharp, refined facial features were quite handsome for his age, which Jack assumed was around the late forties or fifties. Charisma seeped from his infectious smile and every word he spoke. "You probably don't remember me. I was once a good friend of your father's. I saw you a long time ago when you were only just a baby.

"Mathias here, myself and Thomas were a right pack of trouble-makers before the wars, before the Fall. Did he tell you the time when all three of us competed in a tug-o-war with some Osirian soldiers and ended up face down in the mud?"

Mathias dropped his guard and concealed a grin at Oreus' tale and the memories it brought back.

"Or when Thomas won the sky-ship Arena at the Great Games?"

"No sir," Jack answered, smiling in intrigue and excitement. He was unfamiliar with the history his father shared with the Lord of the Keepers.

"Well," Oreus said impishly, moving his eyes from Jack's to Mathias', "perhaps we will have to leave those tales for an appropriate time after dinner. After you have all rested."

"That would be great," Jack replied. "I would love to hear them."

Oreus winked at Jack, then turned to Layla and Will and said, "Will, Layla, would you be kind as to help me up."

The two rushed over to Oreus and let him link his arms with theirs and slowly lifted him to his feet. He then began to lead them the way he had come, across the field towards the skyjammer. "My heart is pleased to see you have all returned safely."

Mathias followed the three with his eyes, then turned to Jack. "Be on your guard, Jack. Oreus is an ally who we can trust; however, there are spies in the Library who report to Kaelan. Every wall has eyes and ears."

Jack nodded.

Mathias, Jack and the ever silent and watchful Cloak trailed along after Oreus who was singing an old Atlantean song that sailors use to sing to tame the waters along the shores of Atlantis.

The skyjammer, which managed to fit the companions, Oreus and the guards on it, traveled along the north-eastern road away from the landing field and its shadowy forms of sky-ships towards the city. The diamond that levitated in its center glowed white in reaction to a silver circlet worn by one of Oreus' guards—he was steering the skyjammer with his thoughts.

Once they passed the border and entered the city proper, Jack saw clusters of soldiers patrolling the road they traveled. They were grim-faced and armed with glaives and other Atlantean weapons. The Library was a city under marshal law.

Mathias suddenly said to Oreus, "Tell me what is going on. We are amongst friends; these people will be traveling back in time with me to find the Crown of Dreams. Jack, as you know, will be our guide. There are no secrets between us. Even your guards are loyal to me. What has got you scared?"

Oreus answered at first by protesting about discretion and that such matters were better left for meetings in secret chambers, however Mathias hard stare and intimidating height won the battle of wills—if it could be called that. Oreus attempts to subdue Mathias' demands were futile. The seasoned warrior knew the leader of the Lemurians was a peacekeeper at heart who disdained conflict.

The High Librarian accepted defeat and said in a low voice, "The rebels have made several attacks on the Underway. They have made attacks against the Gate—explosives mostly—and some of their spies infiltrated the Library itself, though many months ago. I survived their assassination attempts, but at the loss of many good men."

Mathias brows furrowed in anger, and he said through gritted teeth, "Kaelan's treachery has gone too far."

"Do not worry, my friend," Oreus said resting a hand on the riled-up general's shoulder. "I have fared worse. The assassins were captured and imprisoned. Our people are resilient and can survive anything. Rykar has kept things under control—"

"Your son?"

Oreus nodded slowly. "You were gone for quite some time, Aramathaeus. Rykar has the loyalty and respect of most of the soldiers; so I left the city's defences to him."

"What of Essios? I left him to govern the army when I was gone—"

"Essios was killed in a patrol scuffle with rebels at Zerzura."

Mathias did not reply. His anger evaporated from his face. His thoughts and emotions were submerged once again into the depth of his mysterious shell. Before that shell closed however, Jack sensed a brief moment sadness from him.

"Lieutenant Essios will not be forgotten," Mathias said solemnly. "As for Rykar, he is hot-headed and young. I would have chosen someone else."

"I know, I know, but I also left his brother and sister to watch over him." The weight of his rebuttal seemed as light as Oreus tone of voice.

"He was never good at taking orders," Mathias replied. Oreus did not answer, but his face showed agreeance.

It wasn't long before the skyjammer arrived and stopped at the outskirts of the Chamber of Lore, where stood the Fathers of Osiria and their silent countenance. A path of mosaic stone etched in Osirian script led up to its front doors.

"Who are they?" Jack asked Mathias as he stepped off the hovering disc, his eyes glued on the towering statues, half expecting them to move.

"Heroes who once protected this land," the general answered. "Their names are lost in the sands of time.

"However," he whispered to Jack when he was close to him and the others were out of earshot. "I suspect one of them was an old friend of mine. A friend who once wished for immortality. Ironically, a wish granted in stone."

Jack followed Mathias' glance towards one of the statues that bore a crowned sun symbol upon its bare chest. The statue's arms were raised above its head and its hands were clasped together. A half-worn face seemed to stare at him, sending a shiver down his spine.

When the companions had come to the end of the path, they quickly ascended the great flight of marble steps. At the top, the doors to the Chamber of Lore flew open and several Atlantean guards rushed out, with their glaives unslung. A clamour of shouts echoed within the lobby of the building behind them, issued forth like a large force of wind.

"Oreus! The prisoner has been caught!"

The captain of the guards then saw Mathias in the company of the High Librarian, and he and his men dropped to their knees. "My lord!" he cried bowing his head. "You have returned!"

"Stand to your feet, man!" Mathias growled, hauling the captain up with one arm. "Which prisoner?"

"The prisoner from the battle at Zerzura!" one of the other soldiers answered fearfully. "The one who claims to be a djinn!"

"This cannot be!" Oreus exclaimed. He brushed the guards aside and strode into the Chamber of Lore.

"A djinn?" Mathias said, just as surprised. "One of the Forbidden? Impossible!"

**CHAPTER 14: A PRISONER**

"What is your name?" the man demanded from the prisoner. His eyes were as blue as his father's and they sparkled fiercely in the gloam light that came from the vine-strangled columns of the antechamber. Rykar Isaleph threw another punch at the kneeling prisoner, cracking his jaw to the side and splattering his garb with sweat and blood. The teenager who looked no older than Jack grunted from the blow, but did not answer. Both of the prisoner's tanned, muscular arms were held back by an Atlantean soldier each, and a third had his foot planted between the teenager's shoulder blades, keeping him bowed.

Mathias moved to break up the interrogation.

"The prisoner is stronger than he appears!" Oreus quickly warned the other. "He already incapacitated twelve guards and broke Rykar's leg when they first caught him!"

Mathias looked from the helpless looking teenager to the physically superior Rykar standing over him. He noticed the High Librarian's son limp on his right leg as he paced before the prisoner.

Jack edged closer to the spectacle that was taking place. His eyes were a-light with white, psychic fire; his mind reaching out to uncover who it was that forcibly knelt before the thuggish Atlantean soldiers.

The djinn suddenly looked over his shoulder and spotted Jack—it was as if he heard his prying thoughts. Grinning mischievously, he winked a purple-flecked eye at him, then twisted his body, causing the guard whose foot was planted on his back to slip and stumble backwards. The nimble prisoner then flipped backwards, delivering a kick to Rykar's jaw—that sent him flying hard on his back—and landed behind the three guards who lost their hold on him. The teenager then rushed them in their confused state and delivered a series of punches and kicks that left them unconscious before they hit the ground.

"Stop him!" Rykar screamed, scrambling to his feet, but falling down again due to his broken leg. "Catch the urchin!"

The soldiers surrounding the company, who had milled at the door to the Chamber of Lore, rushed after the teenager like a swarm of bees.

Laughing and taunting in a shrill, almost bird-like voice, the lithe teenager darted between several guards, and made a break for the far doors to the Inner Sanctum. He ran like the wind, and his long dark hair and tattered desert cloak rippled behind him like a flag.

A large guard with a glaive drawn stood before the Inner Sanctum doors. He grinned darkly as the djinn approached, and sent forth a thought that transformed his blade into a large war-hammer. Swirling it around his head, the guard waited until the teenager was close enough, then leaped at him like he was a scurrying mouse, smashing the hammer downwards upon his prey. The blow didn't even come close to striking its mark; it clanged against the marble floor. The teenager mocked the guard for missing with the strange animals sounds, and ran nimble-foot up the war-hammer's haft, then up the Atlantean's arms, until he was face to face with him. He then delivered the hardest headbutt he could, smashing the guard's nose...

Vesphaeon was placing a heavy, iron-bound tome back onto one of the large gloam-wood bookshelves when he heard a muffled cry from the direction of the antechamber. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the Inner Sanctum doors burst open and their guard stumble backwards and crumble to the ground, holding a bleeding nose. A wild-haired teenager who looked native to Alexandria above stood arms wide in the doorway, staring into the mighty chamber of books and scrolls.

"Hello, lad," Vesphaeon said in his usual civil voice. The younger son of Oreus smiled charmingly at the confused prisoner. "You look lost. Are you running from my unruly brother and his thugs?"

The djinn prisoner nodded vigorously in response. Behind him the shouts of the pursuing guards were getting closer.

"Then do come in."

Without hesitating, the teenager stepped into the chamber and swiftly pulled the doors closed behind him with surprising strength.

"I'm not at all like Rykar. My name is Vesphaeon—I am the intellectual one."

"Or so he likes to think," came a sweet female voice from the bookshelf on the opposite side of the chamber to Vesphaeon. The djinn looked there and saw a pretty girl with brilliant blue eyes and soft, glowing skin. Literally glowing; she was wearing gloam dust that Atlantean women commonly used as makeup, which gave off a golden hue. "He is also very pretentious and self-important."

Vesphaeon smirked at his sister's jibe.

"My name is Eleena," the girl said, nodding quaintly to him.

The djinn bowed low to her. He appeared sheepish, but Eleena noticed a keen intelligence in his eyes.

The daughter of Oreus giggled, placed the book she was reading down on the desk she was sitting at and walked over to him. Lightly brushing fingers on his bruised cheek, her smile turned to a look of concern. He flinched but didn't run. "What is your name?"

The door from the antechamber burst open again before the djinn could reply and guards poured in.

He ran. His target were the ornate doors at the far end of the Inner Sanctum that lead to the Hall of Lords.

"Wait!" Eleena called to the djinn.

"He is one of the rebels from the attack on Zerzura!" a guard growled as he rushed passed the girl in pursuit of the prisoner. A staggering Rykar with another guard supporting him came next. He was yelling every Atlantean profanity Eleena had ever heard. Behind them were a line of soldiers.

"Stop!" Vesphaeon commanded, suddenly stepping out in front of the djinn as if from nowhere. He held out an open palmed hand, which the prisoner ran into and fell backwards, landing on his backside. In his other hand flashed a tall wooden staff engraved with Atlantean letters and entwined with gloam vines. "I cannot allow you to enter the Hall of Lords. That is the last sacred place of my people."

Rykar and his men skidded to a halt, their glaives shimmering from shape to shape in anticipation for a fight.

"Seize the rebel!" the blue-eyed warrior yelled.

"No!" Eleena's frantic voice echoed with her fast approaching footsteps behind them.

"He doesn't seem to be a rebel to me, dear brother," Vesphaeon replied calmly, staying the advance of guards with his hand, which suddenly began to glow from a multitude of rings on his fingers. "He is definitely not one of Kaelan's lackeys."

"Then what is he—?"

Vesphaeon stepped closer to the djinn who had crawled up into a sitting position and looked down at him. Eleena pushed passed the guards and crouched down beside the young man, holding him and stroking his hair. Vesphaeon's charisma seem to vanish and was replaced with a scrutinizing gaze. The butt of his gloam staff moved the djinn's loose, linen shirt up to reveal a tattoo on his muscular chest. A crowned sun.

Mathias, Oreus, Jack, Layla, Will and Cloak were not far behind Rykar and his men when they cornered the djinn. They were present when Vesphaeon revealed the strange, almost scarred tattoo on the prisoner's stomach.

Jack gasped. He had seen that symbol on the statue outside of the Chamber of Lore.

"The Crowned Sun," Mathias said, and he reached out and grasped the djinn's hand, pulling him to his feet. "You are not Atlantean."

"No," the djinn said, his eyes moving from Mathias to Jack, and then to Eleena where they lingered.

"I am not Atlantean."

"So he does speak!" Rykar laughed. "I thought the little snake didn't understand common tongue."

"I am not a snake," the djinn said firmly, his dark eyes leveled with Rykar's. His articulation of words suggested he was educated; contrary to his rough appearance, and early behaviour.

"What is your name, lad?" Vesphaeon asked, his civil voice returning.

The djinn looked to Mathias, who nodded. "Ramose," he said proudly.

"That is not an Arabic name," Rykar replied suspiciously.

"He is not Arabic, nor ancient Egyptian like his name," Mathias said. " He is a Son of Osiria. He is royalty of these lands. A direct descendent of the Sun King."

Everyone gasped.

"The djinn are your people?" Mathias asked Ramose.

"Yes. Because we are long lived and can speak with our thoughts we are called demons by the locals. Djinn is just another name for us, which we took and embraced. We do not fear anyone!"

"That is apparent," Cloak scoffed.

Ramose threw a challenging stare at the Samatar; but was calmed by Eleena who continued to stroke his hair as if she was soothing an animal or a small child.

"The djinn," Rykar spat, "are still responsible for attacking our soldiers at Zerzura. The battle that resulted in the death of our Lieutenant Essios Kelthanion. You may not be one of the Atlantean rebels, but you are still an enemy of The Library."

Waving his hands to quell the heated debate, Oreus said, "Let us stop this argument and seek reason and diplomacy!"

"The Lemurians of Zerzura killed my friends too!" Ramose shouted angrily, ignoring Oreus. Eleena stood back from him. "Do not seem so righteous, Atlantean. Zerzura is not your city! These ruins you have so craftily restored under Alexandria are the ruins of my ancestors! If anything, I have more right to them than you!"

"Lies!" Rykar retorted. "Beggar of the desert! Rat of Osiria! This land is no longer apart of the Osirian Empire. Your distant forefathers died in the floods and falling mountains, and their lands were broken. Your people have diluted blood. You are but the faint echoes of a great past. You have no claim here. This is my people's stronghold!"

Ramose ran at Rykar with bare hands.

Mathias stepped quickly between the two hotheads. "Enough!" He thundered. "No fool's blood will be spilled because of a quick temper.

"Your actions have disgraced the Lore Keepers," Mathias said angrily to Rykar, "and the memory of Atlantis and Lemuria. Interrogating a young boy with fists is empty of honour. Essios would not have accepted such actions."

Rykar dropped his head obediently, but the general knew there was no shame in the upstarts' heart.

"My son's actions are on my shoulders," Oreus quickly intervened. "If his honor is stained, so is mine for not stopping it."

"He is old enough to make his own decisions and face the consequences of their merit or dishonor."

"I will still take his blame."

Mathias shook his head and turned to Ramose. "Why did your people attack Zerzura?"

"My people are led by a warlord named Bast," Ramose said calmly, the fire in his veins sated by Mathias's reprimand of Rykar. "He attacked Zerzura to reclaim the city.

The prisoner stopped, unsure of his own fate by making such revelations, then looked to Eleena. Finding only confusion in her eyes he continued, "However, I did not follow his band of warriors with the same intentions. I do not share Bast's anger towards you Lemurians and The Library. I came because of something a dying man told me in the deserts far from here and much closer to my home. He called himself a Historian and said he was the last of his brotherhood. He claimed to have had friendships with the Lemurians beneath Alexandria and had come seeking the djinn to inform them that hope from the past had come. I did not know what he was talking about until he showed me something which he called the Seal of Kingdoms. It was a gold plate that the Historian had taken from here and etched in its surface were hieroglyphs depicting the alliance of Lemuria and Osiria.

The young djinn motioned their eyes to the buckle that held up his linen pants. A golden plate shimmered under the glow of the torches holstered in the chamber. "Your people and my ancient ancestors once held a truce."

Mathias nodded, confirming what Ramose said as fact.

"The dying man said that the Lemurians were at war with each other. He spoke of the rebels and their search for the Crown of Dreams, and warned me that should they find the device the waves would rise up again and the world would fall. He also told me that the Crowned Sun on my chest was the mark of the Sun King. My family were the last surviving line of Osirian royalty, which he claimed made me King of Osiria. I laughed at such a proclamation for if I were truly a king of Egypt's deserts then I would not be scavenging in the wild with a nomadic people who were scorned by everyone. I would not be following the whim of Bast and his warmongers. It has and always will be my family crest.

"Although I did not know the Historian or whether he spoke any truths—his thoughts did not reveal any deception—I promised him I would go as an ambassador to The Library and offer my help. I swore that I would help the Lemurians defeat their rebel enemy and restore the ancient wisdom of our people to this world. The Historian died with a content heart."

"Then why join Bast in his raids?" Rykar asked with an edge to his voice.

"I came with his attack force so I could get captured."

Rykar's face reaction was one of disbelief.

"I let you capture me. I could have easily fought my way out of here. Even without my Staff of Dancing Winds—the weapon you have taken from me—I am still capable of beating any man in combat with my hands and feet. I am a storm-dancer, and have been trained very well as you may have noticed." The last comment was sarcastically aimed at Rykar.

"Then why not come alone?" Vesphaeon asked quickly before his brother could react to Ramose' taunt. He was also skeptical of the djinn's tale. "Why join a war band to find us?"

"Because Bast rules the Djinn with an iron fist," Ramose replied, "and coming alone would only allow him to question my motives. I also hoped to kill him in the confusion of battle at Zerzura."

Eleena gasped.

"He exiled my parents to the limitless depths of the Great Abyss, and most certainly their death," Ramose said bitterly as justification for his dark statement. "Ammon was once the original leader of the djinn; then Bast gathered many followers together and usurped his position. They tortured him with fire, disfiguring him, and then banished my father and mother from our clan. Both were bound in ropes and chains and lowered into the Great Abyss: the dark pit that has no bottom. The pit that no one has ever returned from. Our ancient laws forbid their open murder. The elements of the world are the only means to remove a political enemy. Our laws also bestowed Bast lordship over my people when Ammon did not return after the ninth moon of our week to reclaim his seat."

"Why didn't you tell us all this in the beginning?" Mathias asked. "Why did you fight your way to the Chamber of Lore and risk your life against my people's wrath?"

"I was looking for you," Ramose replied, looking at Mathias intensely. "You are Mathias are you not? Aramathaeus Sepharam, High General of Atlantis. The last of the Gaianar?"

Mathias said, "Yes, I am he."

The djinn went on, "I did not ask to be taken to you, because I knew the leader of the guards who interrogated me would not listen to what I had to say. I had to seek you out myself.

"Besides," Ramose added with a cheeky smile, "I wanted to see if the Atlanteans were really as tough as my father said they were. It appears that the stories are slightly exaggerated."

Only Cloak laughed.

"The Historian from the desert told you to seek me out," Mathias said to the djinn—more a statement than a question. "Yusuf: an old Egyptian with one blind eye."

"Yes," Ramose answered. "A wise sage who descended from the original librarians of Alexandria. He said that if you heard my tale you might allow me... to come with you."

There was a thoughtful pause. "I suppose he told you where we are going?"

Ramose nodded.

Mathias turned to Oreus. "This is your decision, old friend. You are the High Librarian,t appointed by Thomas himself. Your judgment is absolute in this city."

Rykar made a move to vocalise his displeasure, but his father spoke first, "I apologise for your mistreatment, Ramose, Son of Ammon. I did not know your true intentions; and had I, your visit to The Library would have been much more comfortable."

"No niceties are required, High Librarian," Ramose replied. "I have not known them before so have no need of them."

"Then I will cease my pleasantries of mediation—as most know I am prone to practice—and tell you outright: for the mistreatment of a descendent of the Osirian kings, I give you pardon to make your own decision in where you go from here."

"Father!" Rykar protested, limping closer to Oreus on his broken leg. "This is outrageous! He is not an Osirian king! Thomas would have not listen to such lies and deception from this little trickster! A servant of Kaelan!"

"Do not claim to speak for Thomas," Mathias said, but Rykar's anger superseded his fear of the general.

"My decision is final," Oreus replied firmly, startling Rykar for the first time. His son had become use to his facile demeanor and weak leadership. "Ramose is a guest in The Library. He is free, under the supervision of Mathias and his friends, to travel wherever he wishes. If that includes accompanying the general on his quest then so be it. I have seen virtue in Ramose' heart and mind, which the bitterness of loss and the harsh sun and sands have not worn away."

Ramose smiled and bowed graciously to Oreus. "Thank you," he said.

Mathias turned to Jack, "I have found your sparring partner for tomorrow."

Jack was speechless. The Atlantean's comment was unexpected. All he could do was reach out and take the hand offered to him by a djinn who appeared his own age and shake it. A teenager who could physically incapacitate adult men in unarmed combat.

"Hello, Ramose," he finally said, "My name is Jack."

"Hello Jack," the djinn replied, and smiled mischievously at him. "It is nice to meet you."

**CHAPTER 15: TRAINING**

Jack had never been in a proper fight before. Sure he had the odd school-yard scuffle with the bullies when he was younger, or played the violent video game here and there; but he had never practised any martial arts of any kind or sparred with any professional fighter. This made him wonder what Mathias expected from him in a friendly match against the experienced Ramose.

_This has to be a joke_ , he thought.

Walking up beside Layla, with his eyes on William and Ramose who stood facing each other in the centre of a large courtyard, Jack asked timidly, "Will this involve some kind of boxing?" As his words tumbled out of his mouth, his eyes took in the splendour of the courtyard where they stood. A garden of gloams pressed against the north and south walls and an arched door on the eastern wall led to the Inner Sanctum from where they had come. Above the archway was a stone face of a beautiful maiden with flowers in her hair, etched with such fine detail that Jack swore it would open its eyes at any moment. A balcony loomed over the western wall, casting its shadow, with a bronze lattice linked between two small obsidian pillars which reached to the marble roof. Bars of light cut down through large square holes in the roof, but Jack suspected, due to the depth of the Library, that it was not sunlight. "I'm not good at boxing, or kicking, or any other kind of fighting really. I think I won a fight once; but it was against Caleb and we were using those giant, inflatable boxing gloves at a circus—"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Layla interrupted, "but you won't be only using bare hands. Mathias plans to arm you with a glaive and Gaianar armour."

"What?" Jack exclaimed in surprise and blatant fear. "I thought this was supervised, bare hands fighting? Glaive? Armour? I don't know if you haven't noticed this already, but I'm not a warrior!"

"Don't be a scaredy cat," Layla said, using a childish, modern-world slang. "You'll be fine."

"Fine?" Jack was incredulous. "Ramose will decimate me!" When his brain finally caught up with her her words, he paused, then almost laughed out loud at the young woman's naïve use of the term ʻscaredy cat.' She had a lot to learn when it came to modern slang.

"Oh, calm down will you." She didn't seem to notice his grin behind his fanned fingers. No one is decimating any one. It is just a friendly spar. Now watch Will put that djinn in his place."

Jack stopped voicing his anguish and sighed. Layla's casual disinterest in his fear made him sound like a complete wimp, and he didn't want her thinking that. He lightly punched his stomach, hoping the butterflies would cease their anxious fluttering. Where was his famous father's iron nerves when he needed them?

William and Ramose stood perfectly still like statues. Jack marvelled at their discipline, and envied their physical form. Both were fighting fit, with toned muscular frames. Will was a little taller than Ramose and broader of chest; but Ramose was no twig. From what he knew of Egyptians, Ramose did not look like one. He had their olive skin, and curved nose, but his eyes were deep purple and quite large. Long black hair hung to his shoulders, which were tattooed in strange symbols that did not look Arabic or Egyptian hieroglyph. Two purple sashes crossed his chest and ended in a golden ring in the centre. His pants were loose, white linen, pulled tight around his waist by a black corded belt.

"Bring the Son of Ammon his weapon!" Mathias shouted across the courtyard to a guard holding a plain looking, iron-shod quarter-staff and a trident strapped to his back. The Atlantean, who was dressed in turquoise and deep blue robes, with a silver shoulder guard and an ornate skullcap, rushed over to Ramose and handed him his weapon: the Staff of Dancing Winds. Bowing low, the guard hurried back to stand with several other guards and servant spectators who had gathered under the northern gloam garden and were sitting on squat, marble benches.

Silence prevailed for several moments, before Jack whispered to Layla, "Why aren't they doing anything?"

"The Battle Ceremony is about to commence," she whispered back, her eyes still on the combatants. "Lemurian soldiers perform a dance before the fight. A tradition my people follow before any battle."

A bell suddenly chimed somewhere above the courtyard, which was answered back by another bell held by a white-hooded servant standing under the eastern archway. Then drums began rumbling like an earthquake had struck from two more servants under the gloams. Their drumsticks bounced rhythmically over animal skins pulled taut atop large bronze bowls, and chimes rang from bracelets around their wrists. Though it looked chaotic from a spectator's view, the music was cohesive and powerful, stirring up anticipation and excitement.

Then Jack saw from the eastern doorway a procession of Lemurian soldiers enter the courtyard, dressed in long, dark blue robes with white trimming over silver breast plates and leather pants. Glaives glittered at their hips, unsheathed and clasped by leather straps that were fastened to their belts. From a distance their robes look like ocean waves rolling forth from the archway with white froth bubbling at their feet. Beautiful, sharp-cheeked faces were partly concealed behind tall, lofty helmets with visors that resembled vines woven through each other, and plumes of ashur flowers sprouted from topknots. They wore leather gloves, and their boots were leather also, with silver spats and pointed toes.

"The Emperor's War Heralds," Layla said breathlessly, still awed at the dance troupe she had seen a hundred times or more.

In three rows of six, the War Heralds clacked their booted feet together and stood still, facing William and Ramose. The drumming suddenly stopped, and all eighteen soldiers dropped to their left knee with heads downcast.

A young boy in a simple garb stepped out from behind a gloam and ran to stand between the two drummers. From out of a cloth messenger bag he uncovered what looked like a bronze pan pipe, which he lifted slowly to his lips. After a nod from one of the drummers—an old man with a snowy white beard and large wooden-beads around his neck—he began to play.

Jack had never heard anything as beautiful in his whole life. The music sounded Eastern European, Arabic and South American all at once. An ancient melody that had not been played on Earth for more than a thousand years. It sounded like children laughing, like flowers growing and rain falling. He felt the earth move under him as the hypnotic melody travelled through his ears and into his very being. Tired, heavy eyelids began to close, and Jack had to pinch himself to stay awake. Not from boredom—far from it—but from the beautifully moving and embracing song that lulled him into another world. Then, like the flick of a switch, the panpipe became sharp and loud—but still beautiful. It demanded attention, and it stirred up passion and energy in all who listened.

Then the drums began to slowly creep back in, until they were a steady, pounding rhythm.

All at once, the War Heralds lifted their heads up, their plumes bouncing with the sudden movement, and their gloved-hands fell on the handles of their glaives. In unison they stood up from their kneeling positions, and their hands pulled their weapons free from the straps, raising them to the sky. A sea of silver blades, glittering under the light that came from the mysterious square holes in the roof.

Like a choreographed performance Jack had seen at his university, the War Heralds moved in initially slow then fast sweeping movements. First it was simply an elegant sword-dance that echoed Japanese kabuki mixed with ballet; then as the music became more fervent, the glaives began changing into a myriad of shapes that created collective images. A blossoming flower, whose pedals, anther and stigma were individual glaives. An ocean with many waves, moving and undulating. A great fire, with many writhing flames. Then finally a tree rising up above the dancers as if its silver glaive-shaped branches were reaching for the roof. Branches and leaves projected from the minds of each dancer and made reality by their weapons.

The tree was the last shape the War Heralds made as the drums and panpipe tapered to silence. When all was still, the servants and guards on the marble benches began clapping and cheering. The sudden loud appreciative clamour took Jack by surprise, and he slowly joined in clapping. He was however, still awed by what he had seen. Layla laughed and winked at him, turning his face scarlet.

Disappearing back through the eastern archway just as quickly as they had come, the sound of War Herald's clacking boots gradually dimmed to silence.

"Prepare yourself, Atlantean," Ramose said to Will with a sinister smile."

"Your meek appearance does not fool me, storm-dancer," Will laughed. The man from Hy-Bresail held a glaive in one hand and his other was finger-spread in front of him. The silver bracelet around the wrist of his empty hand shimmered softly. "I will make this quick for you."

Then the warriors were against each other in a furious display of hand-to-hand combat.

Will swung his glaive in a downward arc at the nimble djinn who deflected the blow effortlessly with the flick of his staff. Not slowing, the Hy-Bresailian then came in low with a feint, spun to the left and swept his blade across Ramose's neck with deadly speed. The blade's shape morphed into a curved, blunt sickle—he didn't intend to decapitate Ramose, only knock him over.

The djinn threw himself backwards, barely missing the swipe, then prevented his fall by stabbing his staff into the ground behind him. After a quick breath, the teenager catapulted himself into a back flip with a double kick at Will's jaw. The blonde-haired man laughed at his sprite opponent and somersaulted away from the kick before it hit him; falling into a tumble, then coming to his feet again.

"Brilliant!" Will chuckled, swinging his blade above his head. The glaive shimmered and changed into a long staff.

"Don't think the fight is over, Will," Ramose said with a cheeky grin. "It has only just begun!"

Amongst the guards and servants, long rectangular silver plates with holes in them were being collected by a short, bald man with leather eye-patch. Jack threw an inquisitive look at Layla, who rolled her eyes "They are betting with tiateq—Atlantean currency. The short man is one of the chefs. His name is Taran uth'Thagar and he knows how to make good coin with matches such as these." She then made some hand sign gestures and mouthed something to Taran across the courtyard, which changed the man's squinting expression to eager excitement followed with a quick nod.

Jack was about to ask Layla how much she was backing on Will, when the crowd's collective gasp brought his attention back to the combatants.

The djinn swung his own quarter-staff above his head in circles. Two pin-points of light ignited on the iron caps on either end of the staff and a humming sound filled the air. The Hy-Bresailian raised an eyebrow and began to approach Ramose cautiously. The teenager then began to swing the staff—whose ends were now a blur of white light—under his legs and just above the ground in some tribal dance. He continued doing this until the sand and dirt on the ground began to levitate up around him. The particles swirled around Ramose and followed his movements with the Staff of Dancing Wind. The mystical, spinning dance gathered momentum and soon djinn was a blur, and all about the courtyard the sand had gathered around him like a small tornado.

Will ran at his fast becoming invisible opponent, screaming a Hy-Bresailian war cry: "Karath thal har!" His silver staff shimmered brightly in the sand storm as he carved a path to the heart of the tornado. Before he could reach Ramose there was a force like a mighty gush of wind, which blew outwards, throwing Will several feet backwards. The man landed in a dazed heap at Jack's feet.

The sand blast faded into nothing before it reached the courtyard's walls.

A shape of Ramose made of sand hovered in mid-air, before showering down to the ground. The djinn was nowhere to be seen.

Will scrambled to his feet and shook his head. He threw off his shirt, revealing his muscular chest, which he pressed his glaive against. The staff shrunk in size and snaked around his body into a metallic spiral, then formed a shoulder plate on his right shoulder. The bracelet Will wore was now humming in the same way as Ramose's staff. Just as Jack had seen back in the Southlake Woods; a sphere of energy projected out of of bracelet and swirled around the Hy-Bresailian like a force field. It was roughly six feet in diameter and it was a translucent white like the luminous body of a jellyfish.

"echokinesis," Layla said to Jack, answering his unsaid question. "It is sound moulded by psychic energy. Ancient Osiria and Hy-Bresail both perfected the technology. The masters of this type of fighting are called Auralar—though Will has not completed their training to be honoured as such, yet. Right now he has complete control of anything within his field. He can lift heavy objects with echokinesis and even break them effortlessly apart."

"What is he trying to do now?" Jack asked, his eyes frantically searching the courtyard for Ramose.

"Draw out his enemy. The djinn has the same power of echokinesis in his staff so the sound from the bracelet will inadvertently react to it."

Ramose leaped out from one of the gloams in the courtyard's southern garden and hurtled through the air at Will's turned back. His staff, which was humming with echokinesis as well, stabbed into the Hy-Bresailian's spherical shield and caused a jarring, ear-splitting sound, followed by a shock-wave that threw both combatants backwards from each other and onto the ground. The Staff of Dancing Winds and the bracelet also went flying in opposite directions, landing away from their wielders.

The spectators held their ears from the terrible sound.

Will jumped to his feet just in time to block an axe-kick to the face from Ramose. He used his blocking hands to grab his opponent's leg and then swept Ramose's other one out from under him. Falling, the Osirian grabbed part of the glaive that spiraled around Will's chest and pulled him down with him. They fell into a tangle of arms and legs and began to wrestle in an attempt to overpower each other. Will, who was bigger, managed to put Ramose into a headlock; however the Osirian never gave up and threw his head backwards smashing it into Will's face. The Hy-Bresailian almost passed out; but kept his headlock firm. Ramose threw another head-butt. Blood trickled down Will's nose.

Both combatants tapped out.

"Tie!" Mathias shouted, calling an end to the match.

A chorus of groans came from the guards and servants, and everyone was handed back their bet.

"It seems everyone didn't expect a tie," Layla said then chuckled softly. "Including myself."

"I softened him up for you, Jack," a bloodied-nose Will said with his charming grin. Layla walked over to him and dabbed his nose with a piece of white cloth.

"Thanks, Will," Jack replied, "although I'm sure it won't make much of a difference either way."

"Have some confidence," Cloak whispered, suddenly appearing beside the teenager. "You have your father's family name to uphold. You also have Atlantean blood in your veins, which means you can't let this Osirian brat win, regardless."

"Thanks, Erin," Jack said. "I suppose I don't know how I will fare against such an experienced fighter. I know Mathias is giving me a glaive and some armour of some sort, but that would probably make me even more cumbersome. This isn't like some kind of video game."

"Nonsense," Ramose said, walking over to the group of Lemurians. Jack was surprised to see Eleena tending to the djinn in the same doting fashion as Layla was doing with Will. "Those weapons are the pride and power of an Atlantean. Do not doubt your blood right to them and their answer to your need."

"The Sun-Prince knows his ancient enemy well," Mathias added, crossing the courtyard from the north western corner. He was accompanied by Oreus, Vesphaeon and a couple of brown-robed servants carrying bandages and rattling belts of ointments and salves. "So I am pleased that he is our friend. Do not fear, Jack. Your father left you the memories of his combat skills deep inside your mind. With the Gaianar armour you will awaken those memories and know how to fight well. It will be as if you had been fighting for many years—a trained veteran.

The general was soon standing before him, rigid and unyielding like the walls of the courtyard. "The genetic-memories that a father shares with his son have always been tantamount to our survival."

"The echoes of our forefathers in our deeds and words," Oreus said, quoting an old Atlantean proverb.

"Are you ready?" Mathias asked. "Are you ready to awaken the past inside of you? Walk the path your father walked and know the wisdom he gained?"

"Yes," Jack answered, and part of him believed it.

Standing on the balcony above the courtyard, Rykar watched the gathering of his kin around the outsider and the Osirian prince. Cursing bitterly under his breath, he turned and disappeared into the darkness of the passageway behind him.

Vesphaeon looked up from courtyard and saw him leave.

Jack stood in a small room arrayed with weapons. It was his father's private armoury that was adjoined to the eastern training hall of the Chamber of Lore. Before him, strapped to a stone bust of a faceless man was the Gaianar body armour he was expected to wear. It was marvellous, he thought. The chest plate was crafted from light-weight steel and leather, and beautifully bonded with gold and silver embellishments, which were in turn engraved with Atlantean motifs of the finest detail. If Jack hadn't known its origin and was shown it during one of his history lessons he did not think he could place it culturally. It seemed Greek, Middle-eastern and Western European all at the same time. The shoulder plates were the most stand out feature, which were curved upwards like rising waves and studded in brilliant blue and green stones.

"This was your father's armour. He left it behind when he left the Library." The voice behind him belonged to Mathias. Proud and ancient. "He was a Gaianar like me. A knight of Atlantis. One of four ancient orders that are all but gone. We were the Emperor's personal guards, diplomats and law makers. The Great Lore Keeper Houses of Lemuria. The Trident and the Crown. Gaianar, Orgonar, Auralar, and Kratoth."

Mathias moved to the stone bust and began to remove the armour. "If you are going to walk in your father's footsteps and protect your family, if you are going to fight to save this world, you are going to need this. It is our perfected conduit with the Aether—the spirit of Gaia, the Earth. With it you can achieve great things. Drinking from the Earth however has a great price to pay, so heed these words; your father has set _limits_ inside your mind with how much you can channel—if they were not there, you could consume too much and destroy yourself.

The teenager felt his skin prickle with goosebumps at the thought Mathias painted.

"The Gaianar armour will not only protect you against attacks, but will allow you to amplify your psychic powers. Someone like yourself, with your limits, can absorb small explosions, levitate to great heights, even move heavy objects much heavier than those doors you faced back at Mount Spire."

"And people like you?" Jack dared to ask.

Mathias paused, contemplating how much he could say to the teenager; then shrugged away caution and said, "I have pulled sky-ships—the size of the Silversong—out of the air and smashed them into the ground. Toppled buildings. Walked through a raging forest fire... and more. But such things cannot be taken lightly. They will drain you, leave you weakened if you exert yourself too quickly. And if you push yourself to the very edge of your limits, you can destroy the conduit. The armour is fragile as much as it is strong. Be wise with your decisions in combat; if you channel too much Aether, you could very much lose your only weapon capable of facing our enemy."

Jack eyed the armour, then gulped. After a deep breath, calmness took him, and his mind was decided. He was scared, yes, but fear no longer preyed on his decisions. He knew Mathias was right about the memories his father had left him. The past dreams were evidence of this. They were messages from beyond the grave, directing him through his journey into understanding who he was.

A vague familiarity of fighting had always nagged at his subconsciousness since childhood; but he had never explored it, could never grasp it, and therefore thought he would never be good at it. Now he knew and understood why. He promised himself then and there that if Mathias could bring to the surface these memories, awaken this warrior in him he would never have any reason to fear his responsibilities of the quest. He wasn't going to be a ʻscaredy cat' as Layla put it.

"I will take the armour," he said.

The general fitted the armour to Jack and adjusted the straps and the collapsible, jointed plates that allowed it to conform to the teenager's much smaller body. "Atlantean ingenuity," Mathias said, winking.

Jack flexed his arms above his head and twisted his waist from left to right to get a feel of the weight and his freedom of movement. Surprisingly the Gaianar body armour felt as light as a sweater!

"Light, but durable," Mathias said. He then walked over to an open cabinet against the wall behind the stone bust and picked up a finely crafted sword that rested there. He handed it to Jack. "This is the glaive your father favoured. Given to him by a dying Gaianar who helped protect his village when he was young."

The sword had a little more weight to it than the armour Jack wore; but it felt balanced and reliable in his hand. He swirled it around in a figure eight in front of him, and watched in awe as the blade began to glow white, igniting his own eyes in psychic fire.

"Thoughts control its shape," Mathias explained. "It will react to whatever images you channel into the blade. Glaives are made from a special kind of metal called eideticium. Brought to this world by the Gods."

While Jack swung the sword about, its blade morphed into various shapes and sizes with the fluidity of water. His thoughts were already testing its capabilities. Jack laughed excitedly like a child with a new toy and watched as the blade sprouted several new points, each one growing out like the branches of a tree.

"There are no limits," Mathias said, "only what your imagination can conjure."

Jack lowered the weapon to his side where it took its normal shape once again. "These are amazing; but I'll need more than imagination to know how to use them proficiently."

"You will need your father's memories," Mathias answered, and he reached out and placed his hand upon the Gaianar chest plate and closed his eyes. Jack felt a sudden jolt in his chest as if a defibrillator had struck him, and then his whole body erupted in a surge of psychic-energy. This seemed to suck the light out of the armoury and descend it into darkness.

Both their eyes shone bright in the small space, and when Jack gasped in shock his mouth expelled the same white light too.

The armour clenched tighter against his body. It felt alive; almost as if it was trying to consume him or merge with his flesh.

Then the memories came.

Bright images of Thomas flooded the teenager's mind. Memories of training and fighting pouring into him like water breaking through a dam. Thomas' progression from amateur to experienced fighter over the span of many years absorbed within a span of a couple of seconds. Jack soon knew the Atlantean martial arts called iska and its graceful yet powerful movements; and was an expert melee fighter with swords, spears and other exotic weapons he had never heard of. It felt like he was waking from a coma and finally remembering who he really was.

After the last memory melded with his mind, the surge of power that enveloped him gradually dissipated and left his skin tingling. The armour slackened its grip.

Jack opened his eyes and saw the armoury was normal again. The darkness had lifted and the silence was deafening.

Mathias was gone.

Jack knew he was prepared now. The anxiety of confrontation was still there; but it was diluted with excitement. His confidence was strengthened by the fact that he knew how to fight.

Just like his father.

"You are a solitary desert flower," Ramose whispered in the silence, his eyes shut. "You are standing defiantly against the harsh sun. Blowing ever so gently in the desert winds, but never breaking. The sand, the mountains, the hidden valleys, the creatures, the infinite sky above are all extensions of your will. They are apart of you and they are separate. They are all and they are nothing. You are the center."

Jack's eyes were shut as well, and his breathing was steadied by Ramose's words. He could feel a gentle, underground breeze, which had descended into the courtyard, trickling over his skin and refreshing him. When he opened his eyes he was standing up and facing his opponent.

"You are the center," the djinn repeated, and he began to slowly twirl his staff before him. "Nothing matters. Now, attack me."

Battle-ready, Jack rushed forward to meet his opponent. The glaive shimmered like ripples in a pond and morphed into a blunt edged version of the weapon, which Jack swung down upon Ramose. The djinn blocked the blow: raising his quarter-staff with both hands to catch the blade in its middle guard—an iron tube much like the caps at each end—before throwing the attack away. Jack stumbled back; then quickly found his feet and slid under the staff with a slash at the other's stomach. Ramose swung the right end of his staff down, knocking the blade's trajectory away, and then completed a full circle by swinging the opposite end down on top of Jack's head. The blow was inches from knocking Jack out cold when he leaned to the left and flung the hilt of his glaive up to deflect it.

The opponents leaped away from each other, their eyes a-light with white fire.

"Good," Ramose said with a broad grin. "Let's see what else you have."

"This is... all new... to me," Jack huffed from the physical exertion he had just used. "Those attacks... I just did them. It feels like I have always known... how to fight. Hard to explain..."

Mathias said to Jack from the sideline, "Thomas's warrior instincts and reflexes were implanted in you at birth and have simply been awakened."

Ramose and Jack began to circle each other slowly. The djinn's quarter-staff spinning lazily around in slow rotations, and Jack's glaive melding into a variety of shapes and sizes in reaction to his changing thoughts.

"You have your father's moves," Cloak said from the opposite side of the courtyard, "but your body is soft and untrained. Lack of strength and endurance will be your weakness."

The Osirian prince was the first to make a move after the Nysaean had spoken. He charged at Jack and delivered a flurry of stabs to his chest with the Staff of Dancing Winds; all the while advancing forward and forcing the half-Atlantean into retreat. Jack shaped his glaive into a large lion's claw and desperately swiped the first couple of blows away. The last jab however was delivered with such force that Jack's strength deserted him and the iron-capped tip slammed into his stomach, knocking the wind out of his lungs.

Jack crumbled to the ground and the glaive flew from his hand, landing several feet away, where it clattered loudly upon the marble flagstones of the courtyard.

"I draw my strength from the desert," Ramose said, walking towards the curled up ball that was Jack. "From the wars my people have fought to stay alive. From the persecution and the solitude. From my parents exile... and possible death."

Clutching at the burning pain in his stomach, Jack lifted his head up from his fetal position to find his opponent standing over him. Ramose's open hand reached out for him. "Where do you draw your strength from?" he asked.

Jack thought of his mother. She sat in her wheelchair with her head in her hands. She was crying. There was an overdue bill sitting on her lap, and Jack knew that that week they were all going to have to tighten their belts. In the background he could hear the loud argument between James and Alora over something he didn't know what. Their fighting and yelling was reaching its crescendo...

He couldn't breathe. Was it the blow from the staff? Or was it the thoughts of home? His broken home. The wallpaper was peeling. The plumbing was all blocked up. Jack's university degree would save them all, he dreamed. A big job in Paradise, living with Rowan and Emily. But he couldn't now. He was in Egypt, and he was about to go back in time. Kaelan, the unseen enemy, was out there searching for him and his siblings.

The last thought was his father. And the photo back on his bedside table in Willow.

"Family," Jack finally answered with tears in his eyes. "My strength comes from my family, and my need to protect them. My need to avenge my father!

His anger then fizzled, and logic took its hold. "Although, I fear this will leave me vulnerable to Kaelan."

"It will," Ramose replied, grabbing his hand and wrenching Jack up to his feet. "But you will not fail them. Or yourself.

"Anger is your demon, Jack. Be mindful of your emotions and the turmoil they bring. The desert flower survives because of patience."

Jack's eyes were still glowing white, and the psychic energy they heralded purged his body like fire in his veins. The pain in his stomach began to subside.

Ramose grinned. "You are ready."

Jack raised both hands in the defensive pose of the Atlantean martial arts called iska and nodded.

The first blow came at his feet. Jack leaped over the quarter-staff with ease and delivered a flying kick to Ramose's chest. The djinn took the blow on the right rib, not fast enough to bring his staff up to block; but he managed to spin to the left of his opponent and complete the evasive move with a slap across Jack's back as the weaponless teenager landed from the kick. Jack flinched from the hit, then locked his right elbow and clasped his left hand onto the staff, stepping forward, and pulling Ramose into another kick to his face.

"He fights like an iskan champion," Will said proudly. His nose was still swollen from the early spar with Ramose.

"Thomas was always good in hand-to-hand combat," Mathias added. "I think the saying was: Toram is more deadly without a glaive."

Layla smiled, but said nothing. Her eyes were intensely on Jack. Beside her, Eleena was watching Ramose. Both women were holding each other's hands.

The Osirian prince let go of his quarter-staff and blocked the kick with both his arms. Jack threw the weapon to the ground and stepped in closer, his fists flying. Both men then engaged in a spectacular display of close quarter combat, delivering a series of graceful punches, kicks, elbows and knees that looked to the spectators like a choreographed fight. Occasionally, Ramose sacrificed taking a hit from the half-Atlantean—whose punches lacked enough strength to cause significant damage—so he could gain a stronger offensive position. Jack sensed this leniency and fought all the more harder.

Then one slipped up.

Ramose came in with an elbow uppercut at Jack's chin who had feigned an opening from a wild hay-maker. When the blow hit midair, the djinn tried to regain his defensive composure in time; but he wasn't quick enough to evade Jack's leg sweep.

Falling hard to the flagstones, Ramose rolled towards his Staff of Dancing Winds. Within three rolls he had it in his hands and was back on his feet.

Jack ran towards his own glaive, which still held the lion claw shape he had formed earlier. He swooped down and retrieved it—its blade shimmered and changed into a long lance as he spun around to face Ramose.

Before Jack could locate his sparring opponent, there was a flash of light and a sound like air imploding. Then he saw him. A gust of sand had lifted off of the flagstones and was being sucked into a spinning vortex of violent energy. Ramose had used his staff to create the tornado form once again.

A sudden lurch from the spiral of wind caused Jack to stumble backwards and fall to the ground out of sheer awe and fear. Then, before he could collect his wits, the tornado was whirling around him at an incredible speed. Blinded by the sand in his eyes, Jack crawled to his feet and began to slash his lance wildly at his invisible opponent.

_Thud!_ A blow came out of the sand wall forming around him and struck his right shoulder. He reeled in pain and limped away in the opposite direction. _Thud! Thud!_ Two more blows to both his legs. He dropped to his knees.

"Finish this!" Jack screamed. Then, almost without knowing what he was doing, he flung up a hand and grabbed the iron-shod tip of Ramose's quarter-staff that came flying out of the haze in front of him, aiming for his chest. The white-fire in his eyes were now furiously ablaze. Jack suddenly rose to his feet with a burst of new found strength from some hidden reservoir. He swung the tip away and leaped towards where he judged Ramose to be standing and slashed down with his glaive.

The sandstorm exploded, and Jack spun away. He didn't fall over however, but crouched low against the onslaught, covering his eyes with one arm. When the sound of wind passed over him and he no longer felt the sting of sand against his skin, he peered over his arm. Spinning around him were eight sand encased figures of Ramose, hovering a couple of feet off of the ground

_The enemy has many faces._ Spoke a voice in his mind. It was Ramose's. _However its true face will be the one you least expect. The one you may even trust._

Jack screamed his anger at the figures and flew at them in wild abandon. His glaive smashing through their empty shells and blasting their sand everywhere. When he had obliterated six of them, he stood facing the last two. His eyes trying to pry through the floating figures, Jack began to arc his glaive back over his head—the blade elongating into a shimmering, silver whip—for one final blow that would smite them both.

Then the Staff of Dancing Winds flew out from the sand figure on the right and hit him against the side of the head, dropping him like a stone.

Sand filled his eyes, and darkness claimed him.

**CHAPTER 16: A FEAST FOR KINGS**

Jack stood next to Will in front of the large ornate bronze-framed mirror like they were brothers or best men before a wedding. The blonde-haired man grinned at the awkward look on the half-Atlantean's face as he pawed at the silvery gossamer cloak that clung to his shoulders. They were clasped under the weight of shell-shaped shoulder guards of pearl hue, and linked across his chest by a thin gold chain. The cloak shimmered like silver thread; but its texture was sticky and extremely elastic. When Jack pinched and pulled the cloak, then let go, the organic-looking substance sprung back into shape.

"Lindil, or sea-web," Will said, fixing the chain evenly between Jack's shoulder plates. "A deep sea plant that is harvested for clothing, drapes, and banners amongst other things. Valued above the finest Osirian silks. Layla sewed these herself. She won't be with us tonight, though. Mathias has sent her into the city to sort out some tasks for our preparation to leave tomorrow."

"Oh," Jack replied with some disappointment. He wanted to have her close tonight, during the feast. She seemed to be the only one he felt relaxed around; who could help explain certain customs, when they were needed, and ease them into any introductions he might have to face. Focusing on his image in the mirror, he blinked the anxiety away. _You'll be okay. She wouldn't like it if I was needy, anyway._ That thought surprised him. Jack smiled nervously, then nodded to Will to show him he understood, and wasn't upset about Layla's absence.

Turning from side to side, Jack inspected the garment, which swished elegantly like silk and did not bounce or wobble as he expected. "It is quite flamboyant," he said with a small laugh.

"Yes, these are ceremonial garbs." Will holstered his glaive inside an ornate sheath that resembled a mythical mermaid with outstretched arms above her head, and fastened it to his belt. "Oreus demands we follow the custom of Atlantis. Hy-Bresail is less outrageous in our honorary dinners."

"They are sure making a big fuss about our visit," Jack said, pulling at the sea-web again to amuse his curiosity. "Do they really believe we can do it? Destroy the Crown of Dreams, I mean."

Will's smile evened into a thin line. After a thoughtful pause, he said, "They all have hope that we will. All Lemurians want to return to our lost time. Walk along the shores of Avalon and Atlantis. Trek the mountains of Nysa, or ride across the vast grasslands of my home country. We all want this mission to succeed.

There appeared to be a solemness to his words, which surprised Jack. Will was always in high spirits; rarely serious or reflective. His words meant more to Jack because of this fact.

"The Crown must be unmade for all our futures to exist."

Jack turned back to his reflection in the mirror and raised a hand to the bump on his left temple. The blow that Ramose had used to knock him out cold only several hours ago. He touched it delicately, and winced.

"I believe we have a good chance," Jack said, an unexpected confidence in his voice. "With whatever is buried in my memories, whatever dad left there, we will find this powerful artefact... and destroy it. Destroy it before Kaelan can get his hands on it."

"I hope you're right," Will said, his smile peeling back again; but the deep contemplation in his eyes remained. "For all our sakes."

Jack seemed to have wandered into a dream.

The Hall of Feasts was a hall with a heigh ceiling which seemed just as big as the Inner Sanctum—perhaps bigger. White marble Atlantean statues—some missing limbs, but all covered in webs of fine cracks—stood forlornly in each corner, leaning on golden tridents at the base of little flower gardens. Blue ashur and white aeli-kah. The mood of chamber however was one of celebration.

From a large gathering of Lemurians at a long gloam-wood table in the centre of the hall, voices laughed, shouted and sung in various languages and tones; some shrill as birds and some as deep as thunder. Their words wove between each other, competing to be heard over the din, and Jack could understand them all for some bizarre reason. He surmised it was a gift from his father's armour, imbued along with his new found fighting-memories he had acquired.

The racial qualities of the Lemurians were quite diverse and distinctive. The song-like language came from the tall, silver-haired Atlanteans with blue and grey eyes, who were more numerous in the room. Their tall postures and piercing gazes signified a strong and noble people. Jack's skin went to goosebumps thinking that their blood ran through his veins as well.

Tan-skinned, blonde haired folk were Hy-Bresailian. _No mistaking Will's people_ , he thought. Their rolling-tongued speech echoed something from Western Europe. Tall too, but the men had broader chests and thicker limbs that were use to hard labour.

A group of pale-skinned, dark haired Nysaeans sat apart from most of the crowd, with their charcoal eyes seemingly absorbing the light around them. They looked sinister and unwelcoming in their clumped shadows; however soft laughter and occasional embraces were a glimpse of their seldom seen humanity. Jack thought of Cloak and wondered if he would ever show that side.

The Thulese with their fiery red hair and green eyes were sparse in number. Loud and beautiful, with exotic jewellery of colourful stones and feathers draping from their ears and necks. However, their beauty seemed pale in comparison to the Avalonians, who were also green-eyed, but smaller in frame and with dark brown hair. Their men had hard jaws that contradicted their frames, suggesting a hidden strength, and the women seemed ever alert, not letting the movements of the crowd—no matter how trivial—go unobserved.

Men and women from Argadnel were darker of skin and favoured short hair or shaved heads. They were strong like the Hy-Bresailians as well and a couple wore strange gold bands on their arms and legs and symbols on their brows, which Jack had heard were called _vis-vereth_ or 'strength givers'. These ones were supposedly called Kratoth Knights, a Lemurian order who were ranked high in the Library's army. Supposedly the _vis-vereth_ gave the wearer heighten strength, allowing them to perform incredible feats. Although Jack had not seen either of the two Kratoth use their strength, from the silent confidence on each of their faces he did not doubt it was there.

Hyperboreans were a big bear-like people, with snow-white hair and girths wider than any of the others. The men—whom Jack thought looked like Vikings—wore big thick beards and moustaches, and their fingers were covered in bone-carved rings. Sparkling blue eyes glistened over round cheeks, and deep voices boomed like canon-fire. They seemed the rowdiest of the group, challenging even the Thulese in their verbal clamour.

Aeaeans were related to Atlanteans and Hy-Bresailians, but their skin were a stony grey, which made them appear like statues. Will had told him when they passed an Aeaean in the hall that the grey was from a mystical dust they covered themselves in from head to toe. A religious symbol of purification and long-life. It was said that it allowed them to understand animal speech and communicate with the earth.

Vlaenderenians were related to Avalonians and Thulese, but had minds for technology. They wore belts ringed in tools and gadgets, and spoke quickly as if they were in a hurry. Those in the Hall of Feasts flitted from crowd to crowd like skittish deer in the wild, interacting with the other Lemurians, chatting fervently and enquiring about things Jack could not hear or understand. Always enquiring. He swore he heard more questions from the Vlaenderenians than answers.

Argyreans were people similar to Atlanteans in all regards, expect they were "fascinated with the stars", Will had said. Jack saw a large group near one of the Atlantean statues, using a strange hand-sign language accompanied by words. Their garments were blue and covered in star patterns, and their eyes seemed far away. Their silver hair shimmered like the stars on their garments, and they spoke of the constellations, the world's weather, and the advances in science that Modern man had achieved. The Vlaenderenians enjoyed speaking with the Argyreans most, Jack could tell. _Questioners and answerers_ , Jack thought, smiling to himself.

Gloam dust illuminated large spherical lanterns made of thin glass, which hung from brackets on the walls, bathing the chamber in a warm orange light. Large, colourful feathers from birds that might have been peacocks or perhaps their ancient ancestors curled out of tall ornate vases on the table, among the numerous urns, plates, platters and cutlery. The food and beverages themselves were something else.

Two rows of long silver platters spanned the length of the table like train tracks, displaying a beautifully coloured array of foods; all cooked in the tradition of the Ten Kingdoms. Each platter had four wells along its rectangular length, containing stews and leafy salads. There were also meats drenched in pools of exotic sauces; some amber like honey, yellow like mustard, white like milk, or dark earthy brown. Chicken or beef, Jack assumed bobbed in the unknown stews. In the centre of the two rows of platters sat large glass bowls filled with what appeared to be punch—bright citrus coloured liquids, bubbling furiously while sediments of fruit floated about—some of which were filtered through a labyrinth of glass tubes, like the glassware of a science lab.

The teenager, mouth-agape, stumbled passed Will who was locked in pleasantries with two pretty, giggling Avalonian girls, and walked up behind the high-backed seat of Mathias. The wood was carved in the shape of two dragons facing each other with claws locked and tails entwined. He was about to say something to the general when a voice suddenly began to sing in a high pitched note further down the table, catching Jack's attention. Turning, he spied a curly haired, young lord holding the note, whilst his adam's apple quivered in his throat like an olive that refused to be swallowed. Then, as if out of nowhere, a piece of fruit landed into his hand. Everyone at the table cheered, and he began to eat the strange yellow fruit with an eager grin.

"Osirian Singing Bowl," Will whispered in the teenager's ear, causing him to jump. The young man had had his fun and broken away from the girls to hover over Jack's shoulder. "You simply set the melody—" he walked over to the table and reached out, grabbing a little leaver attached to a bronze ring at the base of a large white bowl, and turned it away from him, "—like this: la, la-la, la, la!" The bowl seemed to vibrate softly, and Will's voice echoed back from out of the top. It sounded tinny and muffled, but assuredly him. "Now watch." He hummed the little melody again, holding the last note, and the bowl vibrated a little more. Then a bronze ring around the lip of the bowl spun around its circumference until an etching of an eye was facing Will's direction. Out of the bowl flew another yellow piece of fruit. Catching it in his left hand, he kept the note ringing, and a second piece flew into his right hand—this one purple and bell-shaped.

The crowd cheered and clapped. Will winked and tossed the purple fruit to Jack, who gave it the once over before braving a bite. It was sweet and tasted like strawberry jam, he thought.

_Welcome, Jack_ , Mathias said in his mind, not turning to face the teenager. _Enjoy the feast. Mingle, but watch your tongue. Remember what I told you._

Jack nodded to the back of Mathias head. _I promise. Mum's the word—erm, I mean, not a soul._

The general's seat was at the opposite end of the table to Oreus', whose chair had a higher back of white wood, which swirled and twirled in organic shapes, reaching up to a blossom of ashur flowers three feet above his head. Precious stones were fitted into carved nooks in the framework, and the seat's cushions were padded in splendid fabrics of deep sea blue, turquoise and green. Both armrests ended in lion claws, each holding large emeralds, barely visible under the drape of Oreus' hands.

Oreus' children—Rykar, Vesphaeon and Eleena—sat on his right side, talking among themselves in what appeared to be a serious debate. Rykar lifted his head from a conversation with Eleena, and locked eyes with Jack. There was an unwelcoming and threatening look in his eyes, and his jaw seemed tense as if he was grinding his teeth. Vesphaeon lifted a hand to touch his brother's shoulder, and the bigger man pulled away from it. Saying something to his father, inaudible under the din of the crowd, with his eyes still on Jack, Rykar leaped to his feet and stormed off. Pushing his way through the groups of people, he quickly exited the Hall of Feasts, giving Jack one last dreadful stare.

Some of the crowd looked at Rykar depart with curiosity, but all seemed to hold their tongues as if the man's spies might be mingled amongst them. Then Vesphaeon and Eleena stood up with flustered faces and walked briskly after their hot-headed brother.

Eleena gave Jack a fleeting glance and a weak smile as she passed him, but did not speak. When they were gone, the crowd seem to swallow up their parting with no hint that anything had happened. Jack turned to Mathias and Will, who also appeared as if they hadn't noticed Oreus' children leave. However, their side-glances and nods to each other suggested otherwise.

Faces of various important dignitaries and lords of Lemuria seated at the table shimmered brightly under the gloam-lamps, their skin speckled with gloam dust. Only they could sit at the table. Their eyes glowed a soft white, twinkling like the stars hidden somewhere above the stone cavern roof of the Library. Vigorous back patting, handshakes, and head-nodding between old friends accompanied the boisterous merriment of their voices; yet Jack noticed that Oreus' face looked troubled and deep in thought, isolated from the rest, like he was sitting alone at a ball while others danced around him.

_Something Rykar had said must have upset him._ He thought.

Then, noticing Jack's attention, Oreus' private thoughts seem to vanish, and he smiled cheerily at him, waving the teenager to sit at a spare seat next to him. Some of the table guests looked up as Jack passed; eyes curiously wide, and hands shielding gossiping whispers. When he sat down on the chair next to Oreus, a servant quickly stepped up beside him.

"Anything to drink or eat for the Son of Thomas?" the thin man said. He was dressed in blue silks that swished about with every movement. A round, silver platter rested precariously upon the splay of his finger tips. Not waiting for a response, the man lowered a tall black glass within reach of Jack's hands. "Crestshine. Made of grape, wild berries and the ashur flower." His eyes flit up to the bloom of flowers above Oreus' head. "The finest wine you will ever taste.""

"Thank you," Jack said nervously taking the glass and smelling its vapours. It smelt sweet and enticing. When he looked up, the waiter swished away back into the crowd of Lemurians to deliver another glass to hysterically laughing Thulese women whose ears were absorbing the joke from a suave looking Hy-Bresailian man with long curly hair and a broad grin.

Mathias' warning about spies and traitors in the Library suddenly flashed in his mind, and he stopped staring at them when the man turned away from the women and winked at Jack, lifting his glass high in salute.

Turning back to Oreus, he leaned closer to the High Librarian and said, "This is quite the party."

"All in honour of you," the High Librarian said, smiling softly over his own transparent glass of Crestshine; blue eyes sparkling through the glass. "We have been waiting for you for some time Jack."

The teenager shifted uncomfortably in his chair, even though it felt as soft as a cushion of feathers. The thought of all this scrutiny of his 'importance' was leaving him feeling quite anxious. After a pause to take in the crowd and its hubbub, he found the words he wanted to say. "It feels like a weight around my neck, really. Like I'm some... prized deer."

Oreus' eyes turned to concern, but Jack spoke quickly before he could query him. "What I mean is, these memories of where the... Crown lies... seems like such a big responsibility. Don't get me wrong, I feel I am up to the challenge of helping you find and destroy this thing—my family's lives depend on it—but when I think about it, and the gravity of my importance in this whole war of yours... it frightens me."

"You have every right to be frightened and apprehensive; but I am honoured and thankful you wish to help us with the destruction of this artefact." Oreus took a quick sip from his wine and sighed softly. "This war has gone on for far too long. Kaelan and his Dark Tide rebels are putting a lot of pressure on the security of my people. _Our_ people. You are of our blood too. But do not be alarmed, your life is not tied solely to our cause. You are still of the modern world, and it is there you belong. Safe, away from the bloodshed."

"It is a bloodshed I choose to be apart of." Jack's words surprised himself, but he kept his level stare at the Lord of the Hidden City.

Oreus nodded. "Your sacrifice will save two worlds, Jack. But there are other things to consider too. Things I cannot discuss just yet, not even here."

Jack leaned closer still, eyes wide. "What do you mean?" His voice was barely a whisper.

"There are some things that my people want, that I want, for the good of our civilisation. However, there are complications we have been musing on for several years now. Complications that will seal the fate of this world if we make the wrong decision. And I can't let that happen, no matter what I want. But, your eyes want more than I am willing to say right now. I will tell you when the time is right. For now..." Oreus stood up and raised his Crestshine wine to the sudden attention of the room. "Hail, Jack! Son of Thomas!"

"Hail!" the room cheered. Upraised mugs and glasses frothed and spilled and eyes shimmered brightly. "Hail, Jack! Son of Thomas!"

"May his coming destroy the Crown!"

"Hail!"

Jack shrunk behind Oreus, his face red.

"Stand, Jack." The teenager turned to the speaker behind him and found Cloak skulking amongst a crowd of his own kin. "Honour our cause."

Standing slowly, Jack turned to the crowd and smiled. The response filled the chamber with a resounding cheer that nearly knocked him over. Shying his face under his shaggy fringe, Jack quickly sat back down and took a swig of his wine. The crowd laughed at his response, and some came over to pat his back and say comforting words in his ear.

When the Lemurians settled back into their groups, Oreus sat down and turned back to the teenager. "What do you wish to know? Anything, ask me anything. I am a lore-keeper. The history of my people is long, and I love to share it."

Jack's eyes followed Cloak as the Nysaean disappeared into the crowd along the eastern wall of the chamber. "Tell me about the Revenant." He said, his eyes meeting Oreus' after one last sweep to find his friend. "How did they come about?"

Cloak was gone.

Oreus' face changed from eager to bleak, but his voice did not lose any of its strength. "That is an interesting choice of lore you wish to know. But I suppose you have met Cloak, and know a little about his people."

Jack nodded.

"Well, let us start from the beginning." The High Librarian shifted in his seat to be closer to the teenager, before continuing. "In the early years of Nysa, two brothers, Meztor and Ilidriar Tae'am, found a giant black stone inside a cave. It had the power to drive men mad and change into horrible shapes. Meztor however was a learned man—rumour had it that he made dealings with the Mir to gain their knowledge—and knew how to approach it without falling under its chaotic spell. Under the protection of the Obsidian Escutcheon—a powerful star-shaped talisman made from secret metals, which burned deep and fused into the flesh of his chest—he began to chip off fragments of the Doom Stone until he had several shards. Voices assailed his mind telling him to devour the shards whole, but he resisted. He experimented with the shards on many living things."

Jack gulped at the thought of experimentations. Then he raised a brow at word he had not heard before. "The Mir? What are they?"

"They were an ancient people before Man walked the earth. They live... lived in the oceans of the world and taught man how to speak, read and write. Our ancient teachers. The Speakers of the One. Our Gods.

Oreus' explanation seemed hurried as if he wanted to quickly gloss over that footnote question and return to the original story. "It was recorded in his diary," he continued, "that one day a Doom Stone shard miraculously healed a wounded deer's mauled leg from a savage wolf attack. Unfortunately the deer died several days later, leaving behind a pile of black bones. Curiosity kept gnawing at him so he tried again on a wounded man. Under closer observation the man's sword wounds healed after the stone was placed in the wound. However he began to suffer days later from a strange decomposition. It was by accident that the man touched his beloved wife who was drained of her life force, restoring his own flesh in turn, but leaving her a pile of bones. In despair the man committed suicide.

"Meztor had grown callously obsessed with the Doom Stone, then. One night he finally drove a shard into his own forehead. Taming the hunger with the Obsidian Escutcheon, he shifted into a giant shadow-like demon called the Enenra and killed a bar of patrons and Nysaean soliders. It was then he gained the attention of the king.

"You see, it was the Obsidian Escutcheon that protected Meztor. Without it he would be another decaying slave of the Doom Stone. He was able to control and fight off the Revenant Hunger; but that somehow unlocked something dark and dangerous through the manipulation of the shard. The gateway to the World of Shadows opened. Hell, perhaps, in the word of your people. The Enenra was a distorted and corrupted form of Meztor and a spirit from the other side."

Engrossed in the story, Jack did not speak. The room seemed to quiet around him, and only Oreus' words could reach him.

"The King of Nysa saw this as a military benefit in their petty wars with the rest of Lemuria, so he granted Meztor volunteers to become super soldiers. However... it went terribly wrong."

Jack remembered the rest of the story as Oreus retold it. How the super soldiers became Revenant, and under Meztor's command turned on Nysa, killed the king, and destroyed the land's great armies. In time they became the new rulers of the Land of Mists. Then the Samatar were formed, and with the help of the decimated Orgonar Knighthood they rose up against the undead armies and slew them all, finally killing Meztor and ending his reign.

"No one ever saw what happened to the Obsidian Escutcheon after that. When Cloak killed Meztor the symbol was not on his body. He said a Revenant lieutenant escaped with it and fled north; but through the following months of hunting them down and burning their hideouts they could not find him. Even Ilidriar Tae'am, who had mysteriously disappeared after the finding of the Doom Stone, was a suspect. Whoever wore it could change into the Enenra by merely touching a Doom Stone shard."

Jack suddenly looked over his shoulder and saw Cloak talking to Mathias. He looked at the hunched over man in his shadowy garbs with a deep suspicion and gnawing fear. Jack remembered the fight with Gha'haram and the giant shadow the Samatar had become.

Feeling the teenager's eyes on him, Cloak turned his pale face to Jack from down the table. Under the gloam lights, his black pupils were endless pits. They gazed right through him. The Samatar smiled as if he discovered Jack's suspicious thoughts. Jack gasped and turned away.

"What is it Jack? Something seems to have startled you?"

The teenager shook the foreboding thought away and looked back to Oreus with a weak smile. "Nothing, nothing at all. Just a dreadful thought of the Enenra in the room—but its just the story exciting a wild imagination."

Oreus nodded to his response, but Jack could tell that he didn't fully believe him. "If the shadow spirit is fused with another," he said slowly, reassuringly, "it surely did not survive the Fall."

After a moment of silence between them, the High Librarian said, "Now, let us talk of the Games in my old world. Kind of like your Olympics, but on a grander scale. Thousands and thousands of people from every nation, pitting their greatest warriors in a sky-ship joust!"

Jack grinned—genuinely this time—and turned his full attention to the blue-eyed Lord of the Hidden City. "Yes, I would love to hear that story," he said.

That night Jack crept back from the kitchens to his quarters where he had been eating the cook's leftovers and feeding scraps to Oreus' dogs. His hunger had woken him up, and Taran uth'Thagar—the portly Hyperborean with a leather eye-patch and thick scars along his tattooed arms—had let him have a 'midnight snack' in return for cleaning the kitchen and dishes from the feast. The dogs were four, tall grey hounds—Buff, Fang, Greymane and Storm—who had been given to the High Librarian by a wealthy Egyptian lore-kin merchant, and were treated as if they were also his children. Jack wanted to be alone for sometime to ponder the last few days, and found the company of the hounds under the broad benches of the kitchen a pleasant escape from the inquisitive Lemurians who kept accosting him with questions whenever he was introduced or simply walked by them. Now the Chamber of Lore was quiet with sleep, and Jack locked the dogs in the kitchen and traversed the hallways under the illumination of the gloam orbs holstered to the walls.

There was however another reason why he had awoken before dawn.

Rounding a corner in the hallway, the door to Will and Cloak's quarters were in his sights. All he could think of was a horrible image manifesting in his mind. Cloak's ethereal form from the Southlake Woods snaking like chimney smoke through the darkness and consuming a sleeping and unsuspecting Layla...

This image was quickly followed by black tendril fingers clawing at Mathias' turned back...

_No! I have to make sure he is on our side!_ Jack's paranoid thoughts spoke to the dark. _Can't risk Kaelan having a spy among us—_

A small shadowy lump suddenly scurried between Jack's feet; tiny claws scratching the marble floor and a long twitching tail trailing behind it. He gasped in fear and flattened his back against wall for a brief moment. A soft sigh of relief escaped his lips when his vision adjusted and he identified a small brown mouse with big, gleaming eyes blinking up at him. He tapped his foot and it squeaked before darting into the darkness of the hall behind him.

Jack turned back to the door ahead of him. He wanted to see if Erin bore the Obsidian Escutcheon on his body. If he was indeed the new Enenra. How he would find this out, he hadn't planned, but suspected that a brief glance of the man without his shirt on would confirm his suspicions. _If_ Cloak ever took his shirt off around others, that is.

_Will would most definitely be bunking with him, so the chance might not arise._ His thoughts kept weaving ideas and doubts through his head. _Fool! Why are you so damn curious!_

Lights from door cracks spilled into the hall ahead where people still remained awake; the low murmurs of conversations barely audible to Jack as he moved passed them. He was as soft-footed as he could manage, wearing only his socks, and headed towards the last few doors at the end of the hall. This part of the Chamber of Lore was the Master Chambers, which housed most of the Lords of Lemuria. The great men and women who sat at the banquette table only hours ago. Mathias, Will, Cloak, Layla and his sleeping quarters were close to Oreus' own personal chamber that lay beyond the last door at the end of the hall. Behind two towering gloam-wood doors under a silver-leaf stylised archway. The shimmer of the orb-lights flickered off the silver leaves, giving the illusion that they were continuously cascading down like the autumn rain of a forest canopy.

Several paces and he was standing before the second door on the right side of the hall before Oreus' doors. The light was out and no sounds came from beyond the door. Will and Cloak were either asleep... or...

A cold breeze tickled his neck, and Jack spun around to scan the shadows.

Nothing.

He swallowed softly, turned back and tested the handle of the door.

_Why am I doing this?_ His thoughts questioned his movements that seemed to be in autopilot. _This is stupid! No! I have to see if Cloak might be a threat to us—but what can I do if I discover he is?_

The handle turned effortlessly. A slow creak proceeded the swing of the door as he edged it open inch by inch—

"What are you doing, Jack?" a voice exploded behind him. It was a dark and spiteful voice that stabbed into his back and straight through his heart. "Skulking in the halls like a thief!"

**CHAPTER 17: RACE AGAINST THE STORM**

The Suzuki Intruder sped down the empty streets of Hope's Hill, its roaring engine defying the thunder and lightning that roared back from a dark and angry sky. The bike and its rider appeared like an apparition in the weak morning light that was suffocated by the storm, chasing after the last shadows of night towards the Southlake Forest. Rowan had just made it to the edge of town, where he could see the black pines against the orange dawn, when the sound of howling pierced the air somewhere far behind him. Blood-curdling howls that he knew were not from any dog.

Revenants in dog-shape were loping through the warm, summer-rain after the scent of Rowan and Jinx. Giant beasts with dark fur and burning red eyes, pounding the wet bitumen with their huge black claws and tearing up potholes in their wake.

Veil was at the head of the pack, riding astride Dart who had taken the form of a giant, four-hundred pound German Sheppard. She held tightly to the tangled tuffs of hair around his neck like they were reins; and her small pale face looked resolutely ahead, teeth snarling and eyes hungry, searching for a glimpse of their prey in the foggy distance.

She had ignored Xharan's command to wait for his men to regroup from the search, and had set the remnant of her force on the trail of Rowan's bike. Now they had found the straight road he was on, which entered the Southlake Forest from the south-east of town, they did not falter in their pursuit.

When the rooftops of Willow disappeared below the horizon behind the running pack of Revenant, the steep slope of the mountain began to schism, and the road was gradually shouldered on either side by a rising land shelf. On the upper banks, under the mist of rain, the black-barked trees of the forest loomed like unstirred ship masts on a deathly still sea. Ahead the road was deserted, except for and the bee-buzz of Rowan's bike beyond their sight. Veil would not have sought shelter had a car driven by however, as her and her men were far too gone in their desire for revenge to hide from anyone. The mission could also risk no failure, and the thought of Gha'haram's wrath was always on their minds.

A roar, deeper than the thunder, suddenly rumbled from the western arm of the land shelf, and Dart eased his run into a trot before finally stopping in the middle of the road. Veil threw her red-lit eyes at the sound and found the silhouette of a hulking beast rearing up in the shadows of a copse of trees. It could have been a demon from the underworld, tearing its way up out of the ground; but she knew who stood looking down at them in the shallow valley of the road. She recognised his scent.

Gha'haram stepped into the pale light of the cloud-covered sun, his animalistic form revealed to the pack: a giant grizzly bear that still looked somewhat human with its muscular, barrel chest and upright posture. His thick, twitching muzzle roared again, baring sharp, powerful teeth like a man-trap; and red eyes shone like those of the Revenant-dogs who lowered their heads to the ground in subjugation to him.

_The lore-kin enters the forest of his youth._ The Revenant Lord said, reaching out to all their minds; though his attention was strongly on Veil. _I found the diaries and photo albums in Thomas' secret house. Old and frail and weather-worn. Read the history of Rowan Grey, taken from the Sleeping World into our own. I know all about him and his war against us._

_Where has he gone, oh Great One?_ Veil dared to ask, her talons poised under her bottom lip and her eyes wide like that of an innocent child. _Surely he was a decoy to allow the others to escape—_

I watched from the woods and saw him head to the secret road. He is not as clever as he might appear. He seeks the other lore-kin and her passengers who have also sought the protection of the forest. Thomas' children is their cargo.

At the mention of their prey, the Revenant-dogs howled in eagerness, their thirst for flesh and blood driving them into a crazed frenzy.

_Our trap is set._ Gha'haram continued, uncaring of his servants stirred desires, their bestial hunger. _They will seek refuge in the Southlake House, and it is there that we will capture them._

_Yes!_ Veil said eagerly at thought of the feast she also craved. Her enthusiasm was like a fire deep inside her chest ready to explode and consume everything. It was the Revenant Hunger, and it had already dissolved half her face and one of her arms, revealing black, brittle bone. The curse of death was heavy on her. _Capture them, and tear them to pieces!_

_No!_ The bear-man appeared to frown, and a low, threatening growl rumbled in his chest. The Revenant din quietened at Gha'haram's stern command, and Veil cowered under her rain-soaked hood. Only the hollow eye socket of her black skull peering out, a small red fire burning inside. _We must capture the Grey children alive. As for the others... they are yours to do as you will._

Veil's dark, sadistic glee crept back, and she freed her blonde locks from the confines of her hood again. Looking heavenward, she sniffed at the stifled breeze, then lowered her eyes to Gha'haram and said. _I can smell them on the rain, master. Smell the warmth of their passing. We will do as you command!_

Gha'haram nodded, then turned to wander back into the tree-line. Before the shadows could engulf him, he paused. _But... we must be cautious. Remember, Mathias and the Lemurians may still be here. They may be waiting for the others. I cannot let them escape._ His last words seemed aloof, distant; but Veil could hear a tremble of fear in them. Fear of Kaelan.

_Then they will die also_. Veil snarled under the dull drum of the rain, urging Dart forward again as if he was a horse. _Mathias is—_

— _A dangerous man_. Gha'haram said, his shadow absorbed in the copse of trees he had stepped out of.

Car headlights suddenly rose over the horizon behind the pack of Revenant-dogs.

_Quick! Scatter!_ Veil shouted in her pack's minds.

The sound of swerving and screeching tyres on the wet bitumen filled the air, and the Revenant dispersed on either side of the road like a startle flock of deer.

Unable to right itself, the car steered right into eastern bank of the road and crashed into the land shelf.

Groaning, and barely breathing, the man opened his eyes to find raindrops splattering on his face through the broken window of the driver's door. He began to gurgle then spluttered out a mixture of water and blood that had flooded down his throat, nearly choking him. Attempting to roll over, he found himself in immense pain from his broken bones and many jagged wounds all over his body, which weeped his blood all through his clothes and pooled about him.

Then a shadow loomed over his pale face, and his eyes widened. Someone was peering at him through the broken window.

A young girl smiled sinisterly down at him. He struggled. Tried to scream. Nothing. All he could do was gurgle water and watch...

She had only half a face; the rest was a horrific black skull with a burning red eye. A long skeletal arm reached at him through the window. Those terrible lips parted, and a voice as innocent as the man's own daughter's back at home filled his ears before all went to black.

"Shhh, soon the pain will be over."

_It was a terrible, terrible treachery that flood._ Arajasta moaned in Rowan's head. _Brought to bare by the craft of my people. The Crown of Dreams is our disgrace! Such a terrible, terrible mistake!_

"I get it!" Rowan growled, trying to concentrate on the road ahead. He was annoyed, now, at the constant monologues of despair that the Azlazarani kept espousing from its prison. They had left the highway, and were now travelling down an old dirt road through the forest lands towards Thomas' house, but Rowan hadn't slowed down for he could still hear the Revenant howling just over the wind whipping against his ears. "You feel bad for bringing the Crown into being! But it wasn't _your_ fault. There were many of the Azlazarani—"

Rowan, I was one of the Eleven Architects who conceived of the Crown. I am partially to blame!

"YOU actually conceived and help build that wretched thing?"

Well... I was more of a designer than a builder.

The lore-kin paused, then said, "Don't worry, Arajasta. Mathias and the Library will see this weapon destroyed. From what I remember, it was made to help benefit the world. I suppose your people did not realise its full capabilities..."

_You are right._ The voice said, still sounding forlorn. _And once I am out of this prison, I will do the best I can to make amends for the damage my people have done._ _Well, Rowan... my power is weak from that attack on the Grey's home. I must sleep for awhile now to regain my strength._

"Get some rest, I'll try and wake you later tonight," Rowan said, with his eyes intently on the road ahead. Jinx popped her head up to lick his chin, then ducked back into his leather jacket.

They rode in silence for an hour after that, until Thomas' house appeared on a hill ahead of them, surrounded by a copse of trees.

Rowan pulled his bike up next to the Grey family van, which was ten meters from the house' front door, and sprung from the seat with his glaive in hand. The lore-kin creeped around the vehicle like a poised cat ready to strike, his eyes darting back and forth.

Nothing. The van was empty.

"Emily!"

A noise came from the house, a fumbling at the door handle.

Raising his glaive above his head, the weapon shaping into a long curved blade with serrated teeth, Rowan began to slowly approach the door.

"Its Rowan!" a young girl's voice came from the other side in muffled excitement.

He lowered his weapon, which began to retract with his thoughts.

The door burst open, and Alora rushed over to him, clinging tightly to his waist. Her face buried in his jacket. When his hand began stroking her hair, her shoulders began to convulse in sobs.

"I'm scared, Rowan," she said, breaking away from him and wiping the tears from her eyes.

"Its okay, little one." He reached down and wrapped his arms around her in a comforting embrace. "We're going to be okay."

James stood resolutely at the door.

"Where's Emily and mum?" Rowan asked softly, staring at the boy with deep concern.

"Inside," James said stiffly, and disappeared back into the cavity of the house.

Emily greeted Rowan in the foyer with a tight hug and furious barrage of kisses. A large spiralling staircase guarded by ornate balusters stood directly opposite the door, and vanished up to the upper levels of the house, and a latticed door to the left of it led to the lounge room and kitchen beyond. Taking a deep breath, Rowan let himself smile. "This brings back old memories. You and me coming to help dad with the ships."

Emily smiled back, but there was concern in her eyes. "Do you think they will find us here?"

"They did follow me," Rowan said, hanging his leather jacket on a coat rack just by the door. "So, I suspect they will. The Revenant are keen hunters."

"Then we had better be prepared," Emily replied, her face determined. "We have to protect the children and your mother—"

"Where is Elly?"

"Upstairs, asleep. Caleb is standing watch over her door. Brave kid." Emily walked over to the stairwell and began to ascend, but Rowan grabbed her shoulder.

"Let her sleep. She must be very wary after all of this. I see you emptied the van."

"Most of the food is on the kitchen tables."

"We'll get the kids to put them away, whilst we secure the house."

Emily nodded. She raced over and hugged her man again, kissing his on the lips. "Don't ever do something as brash and foolish like that again! I thought I'd lost you forever!"

"I promise." Rowan rested his head in the curve of Emily's neck and closed his eyes. "I promise."

"You haven't been helpful at all!" Alora shouted to her brother as she neatly organised the contents of the fridge. An esky of cold goods lay at her feet. James walked like a zombie back and forth in the kitchen, feet dragging on the lacquered floor boards, his hands flexing in-and-out of fists. "Can you at least put canned food in the pantry?"

"I have too much on my mind right now, gnat."

"I told you—"

"You told me, you prefer gnat. Now let me think."

The girl shrugged and continued to arrange the bottles of milk and juice along the fridge door.

After several minutes, Alora huffed, and said, "Well can you at least tell me what is on your mind?"

"Everything!" The boy exploded, turning to stare at her with wide eyes of disbelief at her nonchalance. "Haven't you noticed the strange things that have been happening in the last couple of days? I mean, seriously. First Jack disappears on some supposed 'holiday' with Rowan and Emily. Then they come back from said 'holiday' without him, and tell us they are some kind of guardians of an ancient race of humans that have come from the past, and that Jack is on some kind of quest to destroy a magical Crown? I mean, this is something straight out of a comic book!"

"You are being irrational, James." Alora kept her attention on stacking the fridge.

"Irrational? Irrational! 'Lora, I killed a man!"

"It wasn't a man!" Alora screamed, standing straight with her fists balled at her side. "You killed a monster, James, a _monster_. I know you're scared, I'm scared too, and so is everyone else. We could die."

Then the girl began to cry.

James rushed to her, discarding his frustration, and hugged her tight. She shrugged him off.

"What?" There was hurt in James eyes. "I wish I was as strong as Jack. Or Rowan. Then maybe we would have a chance."

"We _do_ have a chance," the girl said firmly, blinking her tears away. "We have to be strong and stick together. We should be upstairs with mum, James. Like Caleb. Making sure she's okay. Instead we're down here looking after the groceries."

The last word ended in a little laugh, and James laughed softly too.

"Funny to think that, isn't it?" he said. "We are doing what mum normally does. Or Jack."

"It is time we grew up," Alora said, brushing a lock of hair out of her face. "Caleb, as much as he is a pain, is up there looking after our mother. Lets go help him."

James nodded eagerly. "Yeah, lets go."

Slamming the fridge door, Alora rushed for the stairs with James in tow.

Elly's eyes flickered open, and a smile crossed her thin lips. Rising on her elbows, she pulled back her thick quilt.

"My two beautiful darlings," she whispered sleepily, reaching up and bundling James and Alora in her arms.

"I told them you needed sleep, but I suppose just a quick visit is okay." A voice came from the door. It was Caleb. The normally jovial teenager seemed distant, brooding.

"Its fine, Caleb," she said, winking at him over Alora's head, which nestled under the woman's chin. "You can go and check up on Emily if you want. See if Rowan is back."

"He is, ma'am," the teenager said. "They are scouting around the house and the gardens to see if they can secure it... in case... um..."

"Go join them," Elly said with a smile.

Caleb nodded, then disappeared out the door.

"Mum," James said, crawling into the bed next to her.

"Yes, dear?"

"Is this a nightmare? Will we wake up and be at home, safe?"

The woman hushed him, and pulled the quilts over the top of all three. "Lets have a nap for a little bit."

"Okay."

A tear glided down her cheek, but she didn't let the fear tremble her voice when she said, "Everything is going to be alright. I promise."

A little meow suddenly brought everyone's attention to the bedroom door.

"Jinx!" Alora cried with joy as the black cat slunk into the room. She climbed out of the bed as fast as she could and scooped up her meowing pet as if it were a baby, nuzzling her neck gently. "I thought I'd never see you again!"

"Rowan must have sneaked her in his jacket," James said, wide eyed and smiling.

"Well its good to know she is safe," Elly said warmly. Alora passed Jinx to her mother, and the woman held the cat up in front of her. Ears twitching, Jinx looked at Elly and meowed. "Come to join us, I see, madam. Oh, and what's this? You're already hungry? You only come to me when you're hungry, don't you?"

James and Alora laughed.

The dark cloud that had gathered over them a moment before was now pierced by a ray of light.

Rowan rattled the old iron bars that caged a dust-stained window. He was at the back of the house, which faced an empty field, stretching to a distant wooded horizon. The rain had stopped and the summer sun poured its rays through the evaporating dark clouds. However to the north where they had come, the clouds were still dark.

"This one is secure!" He shouted over his shoulder.

"We might need to board some of these bedroom windows up!" Emily's voice rung back. She was closing in from the other side of the house, near the eastern gardens.

"There are a lot of them, isn't there?" Rowan said, following the length of the rear wall, towards her voice. He had passed the lounge room, kitchen and bathroom windows, when Emily appeared around the corner.

"I have a feeling they've already been inside this house in the last couple of days," the blue-haired woman said, huffing.

"Why do you say that?"

"The eastern gardens show signs of recent activity. Shoe prints everywhere. And one of the windows overlooking the courtyard, where Thomas placed that statue, was wide open when we got here."

Rowan gave her a serious look. "You—"

"I searched the place before I left your mother upstairs with Caleb," she answered, holding his arm reassuringly. "Don't worry, the place was abandoned when we got here."

"I'm sorry," Rowan said, "I didn't mean to suggest... I mean, I know you are smarter than that. I trust your judgement."

"Don't worry about it," she replied with a warm smile, "I understand. Its the safety of your family you are concerned about."

" _You_ are my family, too." Rowan was about to say something more when he noticed Caleb suddenly appear behind Emily. "Hey kiddo, what's wrong?"

"Sorry to interrupt," Caleb said, indicating with his eyes over his shoulder, "but I heard a car coming up the driveway when I left the house—"

"You should have stayed inside," Rowan said, nodding to Emily to follow as he withdrew his glaive and began creeping along the wall of the house. "We have to secure the front door."

"I'm right behind you," Emily said, her glaive shaping into a long, silver trident.

Caleb trailed cautiously after her, his back against the wall.

They were halfway to the front door when Rowan's cellphone began to ring from his leather jacket. "Hello?" He answered, ushering the others into the house, while peering down the driveway at the approaching car.

"Rowan! Its me, Jai! Arthur is with me too!"

"Jai! Thank god its you."

"Sorry it took us so long; but you're lucky you caught us when you did. We were out of town, about to meet with some more Lemurians interested in our project."

"Yeah, yeah, Jai, listen up, we need you to get to the house as soon as possible."

"What's happening buddy?"

"The Revenant are on our tail, and they probably spotted your car—that is you isn't it, coming up the driveway?"

"Yeah, that's us!"

"Well, we have to fortify the house. A storm is coming. There's going to be trouble. I suspect they will come at us in full force."

"Gotcha! Well no need to fear, the cavalry is here!"

"I was afraid you were going to say that!" Rowan laughed, and for a moment he honestly felt all his fears melt away.

**CHAPTER 18: THE CAVALRY ARRIVES**

A black Chevy pulled up in a cloud of dust, and two men hastily exited.

"So glad you could make it," Rowan said from the doorway of the house. There was a friendly sarcasm in his tone.

"Sorry, we got here as fast as we could." The man who spoke was bald, dark skinned, with a lean muscular frame and feline-shaped eyes. He was also well dressed; wearing a brown vest over a long sleeved purple shirt, with star-shaped cufflinks and gem heavy rings glittering on his fingers. Gold-spat leather shoes poked out from under pin striped brown slacks, and on the spats were etched Lemurian symbols. "Almost forgot which road to take."

Rowan grasped the man's hand firmly in greeting. "Just teasing. Glad you could make it, Jai. We are outnumbered, and I didn't know who else to turn to."

"No worries, we lore-kin brothers need to stick together." Jai's broad, charismatic smile proceeded the handshake. He then turned to the other newcomer who was straggling up the driveway from the car. The rotund man was carrying a heavy backpack and a large leather briefcase, which appeared to be excessively full under its straining straps. "Art insisted he bring all his... gadgets. Said, 'you never know when you'll need them'."

"Hey Art," Rowan said, waving to the struggling man. "Brought everything but the kitchen sink, I see."

"You never know when you'll need them," Arthur replied, using the adage Jai had just mentioned. He trudged up to them like a loaded pack mule; however there was no exhaustion on his face, only grim determination. Arthur was much older than Jai, and was short and fat, with wild and unkempt, black, bushy eyebrows and beard. He wore a tan coloured long coat over an argyle sweater, tattered blue jeans and road-worn boots that looked like they were about to fall apart with each step. A grey, wool beanie clung low across his forehead and over his ears, draping down his back like an old sack. "These Revenant are tricky scumbags. I have studied and fought them long enough to know that bringing a glaive is never _truly_ enough."

"You need a hand with that?" Rowan asked, reaching out to grab the leather briefcase.

Arthur pulled the bulging bundle out of Rowan's grasping hands and held it tight against his chest like a newborn baby. "Don't worry, I've got this. Dangerous things inside... don't want you to lose a hand."

Rowan recoiled, and laughed uneasily. "Well, lets all get inside. I will introduce you to the others."

Jai laughed. "Sounds like a good idea. Can't have Art dying of exhaustion under all that."

"That would _never_ happen," the shorter man humphed. "Strong as an ox, and don't you forget it!"

After the house had been secured—every window boarded up, and every door locked and braced by furniture—everyone gathered in the lounge room of Thomas' woodland house.

"Mandrakis, Arthur Mandrakis," Arthur said in an extravagant voice to Elly. Removing his sack-like beanie, he knelt on one knee in an overly gracious bow, revealing a bald spot on the top of his head. "But everyone calls me Art. It is an honour to meet you, Eleanor."

"He's a bigger geek than your brother," Caleb whispered to James with a quirked eyebrow.

James elbowed the older boy, but let out a snicker.

"It is an honour to meet you too—" Elly started to say, smiling and reaching to touch Arthur on the shoulder.

"And yes, my surname _is_ Mandrakis!" Arthur continued, leaping to his feet. "Its not a fancy Lemurian name; I'm not Atlantean or Thulese, mind you. Its Greek, actually. Very cool, huh? Sounds like: Man Dragon. Well, as you can see..."

"He sure loves to hear himself speak," Caleb whispered again.

"Sounds like someone else I know," James jibed back.

Caleb frowned, then shrugged. "I guess you're right on that one."

"... and so, that is why we are here. To protect you and your children—with the exception of Rowan and Emily of course, who can definitely look after themselves—from the creatures that have come after you. The horrible Revenant."

"Well, thank you, Art," Elly said, this time trying to initiate a handshake; but the portly fellow grabbed her hand and raised it up to his thick lips, kissing them ever so delicately.

"A pleasure," he said.

"Ooh, dude, the geek is hitting on your mum."

James shook his head and didn't dignify Caleb with an answer. However, he was a little disturbed at the newcomer's moves. He wasn't sure if Art was being friendly or _friendly_.

"Excuse my friend here," the bald man said, stepping up and bumping Art out of the way so he could hold Elly's hand. "He can get carried away from time to time."

Arthur grumbled something incomprehensible and shuffled out of the way.

"My name is Jai Absolom," Jai said, kissing her hand also, and winking at Art cheekily. His companion rolled his eyes. "A half-cast, much like your son Jack. The best of both worlds."

"He is the son of an Argadnellian and a mortal woman, is what he's trying to say," Art piped in.

"Yes, thank you Arthur," Jai said firmly, silencing any further interruption from his companion with a look. "My father, Oron Cethaphis is from the Lemurian land of Argadnel. He became a _Shade—_ a wanderer who left the Library to live in your world, much like Thomas—and met my mother, Esmeralda Absolom in Paradise. She was a doctor at the time, and saved his life after he was almost killed by a group of rebels in an alleyway just outside her apartment. The police scared them away before they could finish the deed. Ever since then, I have been trained to be a Kratoth—a knight order of Atlantis—in the service of the Library; even if my father refuses to return to his people. I met Arthur here on one of my first missions. He—"

"Let me tell them _my_ story," Art finally cut in again, hands waving above his head as he stepped in front of Jai.

"Go ahead," Jai laughed, stepping back.

Arthur turned to everyone in the room, took a bow, and began to speak in a hurried manner. "Well, you see, I was a hacker—well still am in a way, but we won't go there—and an administrator for this website called Ancient Artefacts Emporium. That's how we met, actually. And when I say 'met', I mean it in the looses sense of the term. You see, I was selling artefacts that I—and some of my contacts—had procured through backwater pawn shops all across the globe and explorative ventures, when Jai came a-knocking. He not only validated the 'junk' I was selling—which so many of my friends ridiculed me about, saying they were fake or weren't from an advanced, pre-human civilisation—but demanded I stop. Cease and desist, I believe the words were. I was making a lot of money, ya know, so I thought maybe he was another rival collector or a government agent. Well, he offered me a large sum of money to buy all my artefacts, and wanted the names and addresses of all my clients I had sold any too. I refused. Then he threatened me. I refused. Then he demanded I shut down the Ancient Artefacts Emporium. I refused. And THEN he said that if I gave in to his demands he would hire me to work for him, and show me things I could only imagine. _Well_ that is what perked my interest."

"Not my threats?" Jai asked rhetorically with a grin.

"Pfft, as if I would be scared of you. _Anyway_ , I am always thirsty for knowledge, so I said yes. He paid me, which was good. I bought a whole ton of things I so badly needed, like—"

"Art, the point." Jai's arms were crossed and he was shaking his head; but his grin was still beaming.

"Yes, yes, the point. Well anyway, he revealed to me the existence of the Library, the Lemurian settlers and their secret war with the rebels, and told me that my conspiracy theories—or 'facts' as I had listed them on the website—were ninety-five percent true. Close enough. But yeah, anyway, I was hired as a lore-kin technician and started working with the Library in helping them transition into this modern society they had stumbled into. Whether that is technology or language and culture..."

Jai lipped to the amused looking audience, "Just technology."

"... I have been a valuable asset to the Library. Hell, they didn't even know what the Internet was. Oh, and I got trained in how to use a glaive too."

"Yes," Jai said, quickly cutting in. "I taught Art how to speak with his mind and how to use a glaive. Surprisingly enough, he's pretty good with one."

"What do you mean 'surprisingly enough'?" Arthur sounded indignant, his brows furrowing.

"I didn't mean anything by it," Jai replied, winking at the Grey children.

Alora and James both laughed.

"Arthur is a strong and loyal friend to the Library and myself," Jai continued, "and was also a friend to your father, James and Alora."

The children's faces became serious and their attention remained on the well dressed man.

"We have not only come to help protect you from Kaelan's forces, but to offer you sanctuary."

"What do you mean?" James asked, standing from the couch he shared with Alora. He walked over to the man. "What kind of sanctuary? Do you mean the Library?"

"No, not the Library. I am talking about a project that Arthur and I started two years ago, which has now just begun to blossom. A boarding school of sorts. On the coast of Paradise, for Lemurian and lore-kin children. It is called, the Trident Academy."

"The Trident Academy?" James repeated, his face looking as if he had bitten into a lemon. "I don't want to go to some fancy boarding school; I already go to school in Willow. I have friends there. Family."

"You are in danger here," Jai said gently, resting a hand on the boy's shoulder.

James shrugged the hand off and stepped away. "I-I'm not like Jack. I can't just pack up and leave just like that. Just so easily."

"He didn't find it easy at all, James," Rowan said. "Jack left because he thought it was the only way to protect the family."

James cast his gaze at his shoes.

"I have heard that the strength of Thomas is in his children," Arthur finally said, drawing the boy's eyes to his intense stare. "And although I don't know you, I do see it. I heard how you defended your sister and friend from the Revenant. A very noble act. Our school will protect you both, so you don't have to fight them again."

The boy's doubt disappeared when he turned to his mother who simply smiled and nodded.

There was silence, then James said, "Then, if going to this Trident Academy will protect Alora and mum... I will go."

"You have my word on it," Jai said, kneeling before the boy. Arthur did likewise. "You have the word of the lore-kin who still were faithful to your father and his vision of a strong and united people."

Blushing, James stammered. "If we survive this, sign me up."

Alora stepped next to her brother, her face resolute. "Sign me up, too."

Caleb raised his hand, then said, "Well, I suppose I can take a year off uni and find a job in Paradise. If these... creatures... will be threatening my best friend and his family, I can't just do nothing about it. I suppose calling the cops would be a bad idea."

"A very bad idea," Rowan answered.

"We will go wherever Rowan deems is necessary," Elly said as she began to hobble towards her eldest son with her walking stick. "For the safety of the children."

Rowan rushed to his mother's side, holding her hand and letting the weary-faced woman lean on him. "I think it will be the best option, until things settle down here. Besides, you will be closer to Emily and I."

"You have a point," Elly said. "You know, Rowan, the reason we never moved to your father's secret house after the house fire... is because we didn't know about it. Would have saved us the mortgage woes we had after he passed away."

"Sorry mum, but dad kept this place secret to you because he was worried that his hidden workshop and artefacts would put the family at risk. He didn't want Revenant or worse coming after you."

"I understand," Elly said, "I suppose I didn't know everything about him for good reason."

"He did plan to one day clear out all his junk," Rowan said, "and give it to the Library. He wanted to surprise you with this place, but..."

"Don't worry, some things are not meant to be," his mother said with a melancholy smile, patting his back. "Well, all we can do now is protect our family with whatever means possible. If I have to up and move to Paradise with the kids, then it is something I will do without second thought. Your step-father was a very intelligent, compassionate and strong man, Rowan. Even though he wasn't your biological father, I can see him in you everyday."

Rowan smiled. "He will always be dad."

_I do not like to be the bearer of ill news, Rowan, but the Revenant are drawing near._ A voice suddenly popped in heads of everyone in the lounge room.

They all started at the unseen speaker. A glaive appeared in Jai and Arthur's hands as they edged towards the direction of the front door.

"Who was that?" Alora whispered fearfully, squeezing James tightly as if he was a plush toy.

"I-I don't know," James wheezed after a strangled cry for air. "Ease up there!"

"Sorry," the girl said, relaxing her grip, but not letting go.

"Hold back!" Rowan suddenly shouted to the other two lore-kin. "He is a friend!"

Jai stopped Arthur from bounding towards the door, and turned curiously to Rowan. "A friend? Who or what is _that_?"

"That would be Arajasta," Rowan replied with a knowing grin. "Don't worry. He is on our side."

"What is it?" Caleb asked.

_I am not an_ it _, boy!_ Arajasta boomed in the teenager's head. _I am Azlazarani. Once I was a Lord from Suruun; but I ascended with my brothers and sisters into the Great Aether, chasing after knowledge, power and eternal life._

Caleb raised a brow. "A ghost?"

_I am more than some mere apparition of the fallen._ The boarded-up windows began to rattle, and the lounge room ceiling light and lamp on the coffee table flickered. Alora squealed and James jumped. _I lived before the Fall, and will still be here even after the second demise of Man, when it comes._

"They are an ancient people of Lemurian and Ramaean blood," Rowan said, with open hands, signalling everyone to calm down. "A breakaway of the Sorrarani. Once friends of Atlantis—teachers of the Four Knightly Orders!"

"I know of these people," Jai said slowly as if recalling a memory. "My father told me of them. The Old Gods who were worshiped by primitive man."

Arthur added, "I have also studied early Three Empire lore and have heard about the Azlazarani." He turned to Rowan. "But how did you manage to make friends with such a omniscient being?"

"He's trapped," Rowan said, looking up at the flickering ceiling light as if searching for the invisible speaker there. "Inside an Osirian device called the Reflecting Cube. I have it hidden in that study desk in the corner over there." He pointed to a dusty bulk wedged between two bookshelves.

"Curious," Arthur replied, squinting at the table and its sealed roller door. He then began to approach it with an eagerness in his eyes. "That is where the myth of the genie in the lamp comes from, I bet. Wonder if we can get a couple of wishes from him..."

_I can you hear you._ Arajasta said, and the room seemed to creak and groan from some hidden weight on the house. The lights went out, and the room was left in a grey twilight that squeezed through the gaps in the boarded up windows. Then the study table suddenly shook violently as if possessed by a demon. _One more step, fat man, and I will break those planks and fling you out of the window like a stone from a sling-shot!_

"Ha!" Arthur's expression changed from curious to haughty confidence. "Big words for a voice in a box! I know you're limitations; I have read about the Reflecting Cube. Lets have a look at ya!"

"Art, don't provoke him," Jai warned. "Do not open the desk!"

_Fat man indeed_ , Arthur thought, ignoring his friend's command. He reached out and grabbed the roller door handle and began to lift. _Man Dragon isn't afraid of a trapped fly!_
**CHAPTER 19: REVENANT**

_A fly, indeed!_ The voice boomed like thunder. Art grabbed his skull with both hands and screwed up his face against the invisible force that seemed to fill the space around him. _I could crush_ you _like a_ fly _little man!_

Before Arthur could reach the table, a loud crash rung through the ceiling from somewhere upstairs, causing a sediment of dust to rain down.

_That wasn't me._ Arajasta said, and his presence in the room receded. _Quickly, fools, upstairs! The Revenant are trying to get in through the windows!_

Rowan waved Jai and Arthur to follow, and all three lore-kin unsheathed their glaives as they ran through the foyer to the stairwell.

_My power is still weak, I must rest before I..._ Then the voice was gone.

"Emily, stay with mum and the kids!" Rowan cried, his feet hammering up the stairs.

"I will!" the blue-haired woman replied, ushering everyone into the furtherest corner of the lounge room, against the study desk. There she held out her glaive, and mind-shaped it into a long spear.

Caleb looked warily from the desk where Arajasta slept to the direction of the foyer where Rowan and the newcomers had exited. _Trapped between two dangers_ , he thought.

Alora whimpered in her mother's arms, and James stood steadfast with his eyes still locked on the ceiling where the noise had come from.

Silence prevailed for sometime before the hurried footsteps of the lore-kin could be heard through the ceiling. They were moving about in various directions, evidently searching the upstairs windows for a breach.

"They will make short work of any Revenant scum who tries to get in," Emily said darkly. Her tight grip on the spear causing her knuckles to redden. "They won't dare desecrate Thomas' house with four lore-kin armed and ready."

James swallowed hard and nodded. "Right... good..." His stern face hid the fear that gnawed at his bones and weighed down his stomach.

"What if they come through the front door while they're all upstairs?" Caleb whispered to Emily.

"I won't let that happen," she replied confidently, grinning devilishly at the possibility.

Caleb caught that look and didn't feel safe at the thought of her eagerness for battle.

Then, as if on cue, three heavy thumps were heard from the front door.

"This is where you keep your word," Caleb said to the lore-kin. "Because... I'm too young to die."

Alora wailed, and Emily hushed her. "Caleb, keep your trap shut. No one is going to die."

Slowly, Emily edged her way silently across the lounge room towards the foyer.

"Where are you going?" Caleb demanded. When the lore-kin did not respond, he turned to Elly. "Where is she going?"

"To see who is at the door?" the woman said, shrugging.

Emily held her spear firmly in front of her, the point aimed straight at the centre of the door. The diamond shaped blade rippled with her thoughts and flowered out into a three-pronged trident, each point glittering.

The door thumped three times again, and a shadow flickered momentarily across the arched window above it.

_Rowan!_ She urgently sent a telepathic message to her partner without turning to look up the staircase behind her. _They are testing the front door!_

_Coming!_ His thoughts shot back; but he seemed frantic and half-aware of what she had said. _We are—!_

A barrage of crashes thundered through the roof again, and then the sound of blade against blade followed.

Rowan!

_Thud! Thud! Boom!_ The front door almost caved inwards on the last blow; but instead a large hole above the door handle appeared, flooding daylight through the sagging shards of wood. Then a clawed hand suddenly burst through the gaping hole, grasping at the lore-kin in a frenzied manner.

Emily gasped in fright and leaped back. The hand clung to a tattered piece of her coat's sleeve that it had torn off and rattled it violently about. Cursing, she stabbed at the hand with the trident. A yelp-turn-growl came from the unseen creature, and the hand quickly retracted to the other side, leaving rivulets of blood running down the splintered wood.

"You worthless bottom-feeder!" Emily hissed, her face scarlet with rage for the damaged done to her coat. "This wasn't cheap, you know!"

There was a growl in response, and another series of loud bangs against the door. Then two claws reached in and held each side of the hole. Before she could sting the creature again with her glaive, it pulled the door straight off its hinges and hurled it to the side. In the doorway stood a horrendous sight: a Revenant with a dog's head, snarling savagely at her. A black Doberman with blood-red eyes like a demon from the Abyss. It towered over Emily, and its long muscular arms almost hung to the ground like those of an ape. The Doom Stone shard burned bright in its forehead.

"Where are the children?" the canine muzzle snarled awkwardly, saliva frothing between its razor sharp teeth and pouring down from its bottom lip to puddle on the floor at its feet.

"Nowhere you will find them!" Emily yelled defiantly. The trident made a few testing stabs at the air between them, forcing the creature to take a few steps back. "You sure are ugly, aren't you!"

Then, with surprising speed, the Revenant grabbed one of her stabs and pulled the trident and the woman out through the door.

Alora, who had been watching Emily and the Revenant's silhouettes projected from foyer doorway into the lounge room, squealed in fear. "James! Mum! It got Emily!"

"Quiet!" Caleb whispered harshly, putting a hand over the girl's mouth, but Alora swatted it away. "Do you want that damn thing to know we're here?"

"It already knows we're here, Caleb!" The girl shouted. "They are here for _us_!"

Jinx who lay curled at Alora's feet, suddenly sat upright, meowed and bolted through the lounge and into the foyer.

"Jinx!" Alora cried, and ran after the cat. "Come back!"

"Alora!" Elly called after her daughter, reaching out a hand and taking a step forward, only to stumble, drop her walking stick and fall to the ground.

James was hot on Alora's heels, when he stopped and looked back helplessly at his fallen mother. Feeling torn, he hesitated.

Caleb was instantly at Elly's side, lifting her up and carrying her towards the couch.

"Go!" Caleb said, waving James on. "Get her before she runs out the door and into the arms of those horrible creatures!"

James nodded and ran into the foyer. To his relief he found Alora standing by the steps, cooing to Jinx to come to her. The cat stood perfectly still on the welcome mat next to the doorless doorway, listening to the sound of fighting outside.

"Come on Jinx, come on." Alora edged a little closer.

"Alora!" James whispered, keeping an eye on the doorway. "Get over here!"

"I'm trying to get Jinx—"

Just then Emily stepped into view. Her back was to the Grey children, and she was struggling against a huge dog-like humanoid they suspected was the Revenant bashing at the door. They both held onto the long shaft of a trident struggling to take ownership.

"Get here now!" James commanded, taking another step towards his sister.

The glaive-trident shimmered in the combatants hands, then changed shape, this time taking on the form of a razor sharp sword. The Revenant howled in pain and let go of the blade that dug into its fingers. Jinx then ran between the monster's and Emily's legs, racing down the driveway towards the trees.

"Jinx, no!" Alora cried and ran out the door.

James leaped forward, trying to grab his sister's arm, but missed. "Alora!"

Swerving around Emily and the Revenant, Alora sped after the cat.

Cursing, the boy ran after her.

Emily slashed at the Revenant's stomach and the beast reeled backwards, falling on one knee and emitted a blood-curdling howl. Blood gushed through its hands which gripped desperately at the wound, trying to keep its entrails from sliding out. Not stopping her offensive, she held the glaive-sword with two hands, arched her left elbow back and her right against her chest, and then drove the blade straight through its forehead, dislodging the Doom Stone shard, which fell to the ground. Giving a shout of triumph, her steel-heeled boot came crashing down on the black diamond that pulsed red...

"Jinx!"

Alora ran passed the lore-kin just as the Revenant's body fell to the ground. Then James followed after, bumping Emily's shoulder as he went.

"Alora!"

"Hey you guys!" Emily cried after them, giving chase. "James! Alora! Get back here!"

Up ahead five more Revenant came loping out of the forest-line towards the Grey children on all fours. Riding on the foremost of the pack of hideous dog-men was Cassandra Veil astride a large German Sheppard.

"Get back to the house! Its dangerous out here!"

Alora squealed at the sight of the Revenant and skidded to a stop. James, not predicting his sister's movements, ran straight into her, and both fell to the ground in a heap. They then scrambled to each other on the wet turf, slipping and sliding. Finally James found steady footing and climbed to his feet. He grabbed his sister's hand and pulled her into his arms. Holding him tight, she shut her eyes in fear of the horrible creatures that approached.

The Revenant circled around the children, lifting up onto their hind legs, with their claws drawn out. The fire from the their Doom Stone shards burned eagerly like their eyes. Veil and her mount, however, continued on towards Emily.

"Don't you dare touch them!" Emily screamed, running at Veil, her glaive flashing above her head and taking the shape of the trident once again.

Cruel laughter escaped Veil's pouting lips, and the pretty blonde reined in her mount, waiting for Emily.

"Our master has come for the children," she said with a wicked gleam in her eye. The German Sheppard she sat on growled, its maw salivating profusely. "So you and your friends can either flee, or die, lore-kin. I care not, which fate you choose."

"Your master can burn in hell, like the rest of you!" Emily hissed and continued her charge.

In the blink of an eye, the German Sheppard leaped over the trident and knocked Emily to the ground, pinning her down with its paws on her shoulders. The glaive was squashed between her body and the dog's and she could not move it. Leering down at her with its big head, the Revenant could smell the fear on her as if it were a strong perfume. Emily could feel the tip of the Doom Stone shard in its forehead brushing against the tip of her nose, and could feel her very own essence begin to be drawn into it. Almost teasingly, the Revenant pulled its head back an inch so the feeling stopped.

Veil looked down at the lore-kin from atop the German Sheppard with a smug look of victory. "You will have to try harder than that, I'm afraid."

"The children are innocent!" Emily shouted angrily. "They know nothing!"

Climbing slowly off the large dog, Veil knelt down beside Emily's face and brushed her hair back ever so gently. "Gha'haram will be the judge of that. You see, my precious one, he has his own master who wants what's inside their heads."

Emily gasped, understanding what she spoke of. Rowan had told her that Thomas had stored secret memories in Jack's mind about where the Crown of Dreams could be found. If he was Thomas' vessel, then there was a good chance James and Alora were too.

Veil smiled at the her reaction. She stood up and began pacing around Revenant-dog and its victim. "Information about a particular artefact from a bygone era. You seem to understand what I'm talking about. Don't worry, Dart won't bite your face off, unless I give him the order to."

"Rowan and the others will be here soon," Emily said, her attempt to sound strong betrayed by her trembling speech.

"I welcome the challenge," Veil sneered, then giggled sadistically.

A roar blasted from the tree-line and suddenly a large bear-like creature burst forth with a spray of leaves. It bounded up to the Revenant that circled James and Alora and pushed its way in, raising up on its hind legs. Giant claws reached down to the cringing children and grabbed them by backs of their sweaters, lifting them up into the air. Alora issued a high pitch scream as she dangled before the red eyes of Gha'haram. James began to sob.

"Don't eat us!" he begged.

Ignoring them both, Gha'haram turned to Veil and said, "Use her as bait. Rowan and the others will have sorted out our distraction by now."

Veil nodded to Gha'haram.

"Then kill them!"

"Yes, Great One!" she exalted, and a chorus of howls came from the other Revenant.

"No!" Emily screamed. "Leave them alone!"

Gha'haram turned and ran back for the cover of the trees, holding the children under each arm. He was gone before Veil knelt beside Emily again, with a curved dagger in her hands, inching towards her throat.

"Emily!" Rowan shouted as he flew down the stairwell, pausing only briefly in the foyer to look frantically about, before running out the door. He almost tripped over the charred remains of the Revenant Emily had slain as he ran down the driveway.

Jai and Arthur were at his heels. They emerged from the house with glaives ready. Revenant blood running down their weapons from their fight upstairs.

All three saw Emily and Veil at the same time.

"Rowan—" Jai started.

"I know!" Rowan said, running towards his fiancée. "Veil! If you touch her!"

"There's a lot of those nasty things," Arthur huffed, jogging after Rowan. His bulging backpack bouncing up and down on his back.

"Deterred, old bean?" Jai asked, grinning as he also gave chase.

"Not enough of 'em!" Arthur laughed.

Rowan stopped a few feet away from Veil and Dart who still held Emily to the ground. The Revenant's jaw was opened wide, and its saliva was dripping in puddles next to the blue-haired woman's head.

"One more step, and its bye-bye." Veil's voice was as innocent as she looked.

"Veil! I swear!" The lore-kin was fighting all of his instincts to rush forward and slay the beast that threatened his lover's life.

Jai suddenly stepped in front of Rowan, pushing him back with one hand. Before any protests could be uttered, the well dressed man began removing his vest and unbuttoning his shirt.

Arthur plodded up beside his friend, panting. His eyes shifted from the ever-growing Revenant pack, which milled behind Veil, to Jai. "What are you doing?"

"I'm challenging that whelp that is sitting on my friend!" Jai shouted, directing his answer to Dart. The great beast lifted its head and growled threateningly at him, his red eyes were burning pits of hatred.

Rowan turned to Jai in surprise. "What? No, we do this together."

"I'm talking to you—yes you, whelp!" Jai shouted the insult again, ignoring Rowan. Soon his shirt was completely unbuttoned. Peeling his muscular arms out of the sleeves, he tossed it to the ground. His dark skinned body was covered in tattoos of Argadnellian symbols of the Kratoth Order, and around his arms were gold bands. Three on each arm. They glimmered softly under the morning sun, reflecting in the eyes of his enemies.

Veil laughed. "You are all going to die, lore-kin. So there is no point in singling out my champion. I have thirty Revenant gathered at my back. You will be dead in less than five minutes."

"Such big words for someone so small," Jai taunted.

"Enough!" the girl screamed, her patience wearing thin. "I have heard enough out of you, lore-kin!"

Jai shrugged. "Then its either you or your pet there. But either way, I will have my match."

"Fine! I will tear your throat out—"

"No!" Dart growled, standing up on his hind legs and brushing Emily's glaive away, far out of her reach. "I will not take anymore insults from you, loose-tongued fool!"

Jai grinned, waving the giant beast to come to him. "Then let's end it here, right now."

"Dart! You will do as I say!" Veil commanded, her eyes narrowing to venomous slits.

"I have had enough of his insolence," Dart growled, pointing at Jai. "Let me crush him and maul him to pieces, then you can send the others. But not before." His last comment was a threat, but Veil did not rebuke him again.

"Very well," she said, lowering her voice. "Make short work of him. And bring me back those gold bangles he is so elegantly wearing."

Dart nodded and turned to Jai. "Foolish, foolish little man. It will take more than a glaive to hurt me."

Jai dropped his glaive on the ground in answer. "Bare hands, big boy. You obviously haven't dealt with a Kratoth before."

Rowan picked up Jai's weapon and stabbed it into the soft forest turf next to him. His eyes were fixed on the gold bands that glistened on his friend's limbs. Arthur then made a step forward, but Rowan held him back with one arm. "Leave him. I did not know he brought his father's _weapons_."

The portly man merely grinned devilishly. "After Jai decimates him, then can we attack the other scumbags?"

"Yes," Rowan said, his gaze now on Dart, watching him in case he made a move to hurt Emily.

Emily scrambled to her feet and looked up at the giant Revenant. He was much taller than the Doberman had been, and looked much more stronger. Her eyes on his, she began to back away.

"Get out of my way!" Dart growled at Emily. "Run back to your friends! I will have my time with you soon."

"Not on your life," Rowan said, his death-stare unflinching. Emily ran to him and he hooked his free arm around her waist, pulling her against his chest protectively.

Dart sneered, then laughed at Rowan's threat. "Don't worry lore-kin, you will die as quick as the others. But first, your boastful friend here needs a lesson in manners!" He started to approach Jai, his clawed feet tearing into the muddied grass as he went. The giant beast's shadow swallowed up the shirtless lore-kin who stood as still as stone. "What's wrong, have nothing funny to say now? Say something!"

Jai simply smiled as his gold bands suddenly began to glow. "Lets see what you've got," he finally said.

Growling angrily, the Revenant lunged at Jai with tremendous force, his clawed hands aimed for the Kratoth's throat.

Just before the giant hands could touch him, Jai's own hands shot upwards and grabbed the Revenant's wrists. Moving with the momentum of the lunge, Jai let himself fall onto his back, then braced his adversary with a foot against Dart's chest, and flung him overhead. The Revenant flew several feet before crashing into the driveway near the house, knocking over Rowan's motorbike.

Rowan flinched and whispered under his breath, "I just had her polished, too."

A howl of rage exploded from the Revenant as he leaped to his feet. Jai was also standing; as still as he had been before.

"So, this lesson of yours," Jai said sardonically, cracking his knuckles and dropping into a defensive stance. "Did I pass?"

"I WILL KILL YOU!" Dart roared, his eyes burned like twin furnaces. The other three lore-kin scattered out of the creature's path as he thundered towards the Kratoth again.

This time, Jai took the impact of the four-hundred pound giant that slammed into him. Limbs locked, the two crashed into the ground. Dart snapped his huge canine jaws viciously at Jai's neck, but the Kratoth managed to clamp both hands around the Revenant's muzzle, forcing them closed with his incredible strength that seemed to be coming from his gold bands— _vis-vereth_.

Veil looked on, frustrated. When the wrestling match didn't seem to be yielding a winner, she began signalling the other Revenant to move closer to Rowan and the others.

"Be ready," Rowan warned Arthur and Emily. "Veil is about to make her move."
**CHAPTER 20: THE CHANGE**

"I-I-I was going to speak with Will and Erin about the journey tomorrow," Jack stuttered, his body covered in goosebumps and his heart pounding like a war drum. "Curious about time travel is all."

He turned around and found Rykar glaring down at him. "I heard you, Son of Thomas," he said in a harshly whispered and agitated voice. "I heard you rummaging around in the kitchen like the mice in this god-forsaken dungeon, eating the scraps with the dogs. The actions of a peasant from my world. Yours too, perhaps."

"I didn't mean to—its just... Taran the cook said I could eat the leftovers in return for kitchen hand duties. I didn't get as much as a bite to eat during the feast. Your father had so many fascinating stories to tell—"

"My father has a lot of _stories_ to say. However, none of them has helped our situation thus far, have they?"

Jack didn't know how to answer. The larger man was a seasoned warrior—and so was he, if you counted his dad's combat memories that now inhabited his brain and reflexes—who didn't appear to be easily swayed with excuses or pleasantries. He could tell Rykar did not like him. Despised him, even.

Rykar's strong hands suddenly grabbed Jack's shirt below his chin and knotted it into two fists. The big man then pushed him against the door and pinned him with his weight. The Atlantean's hard-angled face loomed down at Jack, and his words felt like they were being spat in his face. "I did not like your father. He was too pious. More than Mathias or my father combined.

The teenager squirmed and tried unsuccessfully to move his face away from Rykar's uncaring gaze; whatever strength he had left was comparable to that of a kitten caught in its mother's jaws.

"You are truly pathetic." Rykar's words were fire in his ears and on his skin. "Did you think I would believe that you are a willing to make a sacrifice for our cause? Your father refused to travel back to our time and destroy the Crown. Outright refused! He claimed that it would lead to greater woes for this world. What a deluded fool! I know why he said these things. It was not fear. It was his love for the natives. If our world was saved, they would cease to exist. Your mother would cease to exist. _You_ would cease to exist."

Jack knew what Rykar was insinuating. If they went back in time and destroyed the Crown, the events that lead to the destruction of the Three Empires would not have happened, their advanced civilisation would not have become extinct. This would mean Jack's and everybody else's ancestors would most likely not have lived, and he would... cease to exist, as Rykar had put it.

He could not entertain those thoughts. Jack had been warned by Mathias not to engage in any conversations about their quest to anyone. Mathias' warning was shrouded in mystery, he hadn't explained how they were going to destroy the Crown _and_ save his world at the same time. To be honest, Jack felt deep inside that Mathias didn't know himself. But he had told him that the answers were in his head, so that was all he could trust. His head. His unlocked memories. His father's plan for him and their people. There was a way for salvation for both their worlds. He just didn't know it yet.

Calming his thoughts, Jack remained quiet, not wanting to provoke Rykar's mood any further.

"I begged him," the warrior continued, not seeing Jack's hidden thoughts, "we all did, to return in the Rising Hope and use his knowledge of the Crown to destroy it. Only Toram knew the secrets of its undoing. The Aer'Ashan favoured him above all the Gaianar, and so imparted their lore and wisdom on to him. Now that wisdom is inside your head."

"I don't know how to retrieve it," Jack said in barely a whisper; his eyes locking with Rykar. "If I could, I would. I would tell you everything—"

"Lies!" Rykar hissed. "I find it hard to believe that you would sacrifice your own world for mine! If your father would not, you most certainly won't. There is something going on that Mathias hasn't told us, which I am going to get to the bottom of. Mark my words. My eyes are on you, and your secrets will not stay hidden for long."

"Rykar," Will's voice suddenly came from the dark of the hall behind them. "Can we help you?"

The Atlantean warrior released Jack's shirt and stepped away, blinking into the direction of the speaker. "I was simply asking the boy questions about his motives."

"His motives are the same as ours," the Hy-Bresailian said, stepping into the light of the gloam orbs.

"Will!" Jack cried in relief.

"Mathias will not appreciate your interrogation of Toram's son," Cloak added, stepping up beside William. "It is a foolish move, Rykar."

"There are questions that need answers," Rykar said darkly, "answers that Mathias has not yet shared with us. How can we trust this boy, when his very world will cease to exist after our quest is complete?"

Jack was about to say something, but was silenced by Cloak's cold, sharp eyes.

"Have you not considered," Will said, and he stepped in front of Rykar with his arms folded, "that Jack and his family will be taken with our people back to our time once the mission is complete. Mathias, _and_ your father, has already decided to honour Toram's memory this way."

Rykar, who was an inch shorter than Will, screwed his face up in anger, but did not dare to say any more. He seemed to be mulling over the reason the younger Atlantean had given him. Then, giving Jack one last glance, he walked around the Hy-Bresailian and stormed off into the long hallway, the sound of his boots clacking on the marble floor echoing after him. When his silhouette passed into shadows, Jack sighed.

"He is one to be careful of, Jack," Will said with soft eyes, his stern face falling away. "Rykar has always been an opponent of your father and Mathias' plans."

"Why are you standing in front of our door?" Cloak asked in his wispy voice, his charcoal eyes boring into Jack.

"I wanted to know about the journey tomorrow," the teenager lied, trying to collect his thoughts. Then he deflected any further questions with his own. "Where have you both been? And where is Layla, Ramose and Mathias?"

"We will ask the questions—" Cloak said, but was silenced by Will's finger to his lips.

"We must leave quickly," his companion said, his golden hair sparkling under the gloam light of a nearby orb like yellow straw. "Rykar may not be the only ears here."

"You're coming with us," the Nysaean said, grabbing Jack by the forearm and pulling him down the hall from whence they came. "Mathias will tell you everything."

"Everything?" Jack said with wide eyes. "What do you mean?"

However the answers to his questions were not forthcoming, and Will and Cloak escorted Jack down the hall, through a door, and down a flight of stairs to the lower levels of the Chamber of Lore.

"Where are they?" Layla asked Mathias. She paced impatiently back and forth in front of the door of the small chamber, fidgeting with her hair. The tall, stern general stood in the far corner, his glowing eyes piercing out. He did not answer. "Jack better not be lost. It would be typical of him, though. Can't stay put when we tell him to."

They were in a small janitor's room, full of brooms, mops and old rags hanging from wooden hooks on four grimy walls. A bucket of soap-oily water sat by the door, its suds all gone. A strange place for a meeting, Layla had thought.

The High Librarian sat on a small chair at an empty table, with his forehead resting on the knuckles of his steepled hands, and his eyes downcast on the grain of the table-top. Heavy thoughts weighed down on him like the shadows in the room, which were broken by one solitary gloam-orb protruding from a wall bracket. "He was in the kitchen last I heard," Oreus finally said, lifting his gaze over his fingers to look at the girl. "Feeding my dogs."

"They are here," Mathias answered suddenly, throwing his stare to the door. Layla opened it quickly, and poked her head into the hallway beyond. She then stepped back and ushered three figures into the room before closing the door. When Will, Cloak and Jack were huddled together, the general waved them over to him.

"Jack," Layla said softly, walking up beside the teenager and nudging him with her elbow. "Tucking into Taran's leftovers, hey? Thought you'd be resting up for tomorrow, not stuffing your face. Boys."

"Hey, I was still hungry." He didn't sound convincing.

"Something you're not telling me," Layla said, raising a brow suspiciously.

"Um... I... will tell you later." He ended their whispered talk when he saw Mathias standing resolutely before them. His glowing eyes flitting between the youths.

Layla caught her question before she asked it, and turned abruptly from Jack to the general.

"Come forward, Jack," Mathias said, reaching out a hand to the teenager. "I will lead you into the Chamber of Sleep. A room that was rescued from the sunken ruins of our great city, Atlantis. There we will unravel your head and see those memories that Thomas has hid for us. Finally, you will reveal to us all the answers we need for this quest."

"It won't hurt will it?" Jack asked, drawing a snicker from Cloak and an elbow from Layla.

"No," the giant general said sternly, "there will be no pain."

Wincing from the elbow, Jack stepped up beside Mathias, who turned and touched the stone wall with both his open palms. His glowing white eyes shone on the stone wall as he murmured an Atlantean word.

"A'thaimnen'lel."

"Words of Command," William said over Jack's shoulder. "He said 'mountain rain'. The Chamber of Sleep is sealed by spoken words that are different for each day. There are forty eight phrases, and Mathias knows them all. Get the word for that day wrong and the Chamber will be sealed for an entire year. Also, the doorway moves to different walls in the Library, never resting in the same place for too long.

Jack looked astounded.

"It was built for the Emperor of Lemuria to house his most prized secrets. It is immune to thought projection. You cannot see inside it."

"Does anyone else know about—" Jack started to ask Will.

"No," Oreus said, walking up behind him and resting a hand on his shoulder. "Only us, Jack."

A rolling groan, a cloud of dust, and the stone wall rolled back two feet from the other wall that formed the corner of the room, revealing a long, dark passage.

"Follow me," Mathias said, and he turned and stepped into the rectangle of blackness. His shadow on the floor disappearing with him.

Jack stepped quickly after Mathias, and heard the footsteps of the others following. At the end of the passageway he saw a bright light from the Chamber of Sleep beyond. Sound was muted around him, except for the pounding of his own heart in his chest and the faint tapping of boots on stone. Jack could also feel the ground moving beneath him as if the passage was rotating on an axis in the chamber—looking back, he saw the entrance from the shabby room they had all been standing in moments before quickly closing. The last sliver of weak gloam-light disappeared in a wink as the entrance was gone by the shifting walls. Jack looked forward again to find a thin veil of blue light, like a curtain, hanging before the doorway into the large round room. Mathias' back had just disappeared through it, unscathed. Jack hesitated for a couple of seconds in front of the shimmering, transparent wall, before reaching out a trembling hand. Touching it with his index finger, Jack felt a strange tingling sensation travel up his spine. When no pain followed, he rushed forward, aided by an impatient shove from hands he suspected were Layla's and stumbled after Mathias' heels.

The Chamber of Sleep was a circular, domed room with several doorways leading into it. Each entrance, except for the one they all entered from, were sealed by tall metal doors that were engraved in the languages of the Three Empires. The walls were blue coloured metal that seemed to glow, and emanate a high pitched melody that was almost inaudible above the sound of the cogs beneath the ground, which turned the room like a carousel ever so slowly. The strange music was metallic sounding, like chimes; a ringing vibration, which the companions could feel as well as hear.

Jack looked back at the way they had come. The wall of blue light still wavered like a mirage over the entrance to the chamber, but it had moved further away as the room turned.

"The Chamber's Veil," Oreus said, answering Jack's unsaid question. "It only allows those whose names are on the mind of the Speaker to enter. If Mathias did not think of you whilst stepping through the gate, you would be dead from touching it. Burned into nothing."

Jack felt goosebumps tickle all over his skin at the thought of burning into nothing. "Glad he was thinking of us, then," he said, laughing nervously.

In the centre of the chamber, they saw a statue of a bald headed man sitting on a thrown, all made from the same blue metal as the walls. The statue stood on a circular dais, like a giant coin, ringed with blue glowing stones embedded into square panels along its edge. There was three empty panels that did not have any stones in them, but slots where they could be fitted.

When Jack looked upon the statue's face, he realised it looked male and female at the same time, and its eyes were closed. Fine cracks along the eye lids suggested that they could move and reveal something behind... but what?

The teenager took a step towards it, but Layla grabbed his sleeve, yanking him to a halt. "Don't," she whispered harshly. "Wait a second."

"Here," Mathias said, his back to the group, "Amnaeus, the Last Emperor of Lemuria, hid the Crown of Dreams upon the Statue of Abadendros' brow. Forever locked behind the moving doors. Behind the Chamber's Veil. Until..." his words went low and he turned to face them finally, "Ka'ash II, Emperor of Rama, brought his war to Atlantis. Then our fair lord took the Crown and used it, against my warning. Used it to wrought ruin upon his enemies, our enemies. And... the demise of our world."

That last memory seemed to linger in Mathias's eyes behind a sheath of unshed tears. A hard swallow, and the general turned back to the statue. "Abadendros was one of the inventors of the Chamber of Sleep. A fellow Gaianar and friend of mine. He created the memory stones, which can store thought. Each one of those glowing stones carries a secret only the Emperor knew. Important secrets locked away for dire needs, such as this. Jack, I will need you to stand here."

Layla's fingers released his arm, and Jack stumbled up beside Mathias and the statue.

The general then reached into one of the inner pockets of his jacket and retrieve a clear stone, which he showed him in cupped hands. Inside it crackled small lightening arcs, bouncing against the surface and webbing into more arcs. "This stone will draw from you the sealed thoughts you have been carrying. Your father told me during his last days that I would have to take you to the Chamber of Sleep to unlock the location of the Crown and how we are to destroy it."

"Why didn't he simply leave it as a self-releasing memory like all the other ones?" Jack asked the stony-faced general. "Like the combat memories?"

"Because he feared that Kaelan and his rebels would find you and pry those thoughts from you. I believe that he put up a lot of barriers inside your mind to safe guard its release. Safe guards that could seriously hurt any invasive thoughts from others. Only with this device can we hope to retrieve them. Now touch the stone.

Jack nodded and complied without hesitation. For some reason instinct told him it was right. His hands reached out and touched the cold oblong stone. Mathias wrapped his fingers over Jack's and held them firmly, then let go.

"You must place the stone into the dais of the statue. It will activate the projector and we will see what we must do."

Hands gripping tight, Jack knelt down before the statue of Abadendros and placed the stone in one of the empty sockets of the dais. The instant the stone fitted into place there was a surge of energy that raced down each of Jack's arms and into the stone, lighting it up in the same blue light that pulsed from the other Memory Stones. A flood of memories suddenly flashed through Jack's mind like the flicking pages of a photo album, giving him brief glimpses of faces and places he didn't have a chance to catch or recognise due to the speed of their passing. Then, before he gasped for air, they were gone.

"The statue's eyes!" Layla cried, breaking through Jack's concentration.

Looking up, he saw the statue's metal eye lids slowly receding up into its head, revealing two bright beams of white light that flooded into the chamber. Jack scrambled to his feet and took several steps backwards towards the others.

"The memories are ready to be projected," Mathias said, anticipation subtle in his voice. "The mechanisms set in Jack's mind to snare intruders has been lifted."

A shimmering orb began to form from the two beams of lights shooting out from the statue's eyes. Gradually the beams themselves lessened until they were merely hair thin. The orb expanded and then exploded outwards, consuming the chamber and its occupants...

Jack felt like he was falling. He couldn't see his own body when he frantically reached with invisible hands to pat himself all over. His mind was echoing, throbbing with a chiming sound that was very similar to music coming from the Chamber of Sleep's walls.

Then all his thoughts were quiet, and all sound was gone.

Darkness surrounded him like a cloak wrapped tight around his body, restricting him. Gradually, however, it began to fade away, slackening the anxious fist around his heart, and his body felt light.

A deserted coastline appeared before him. Rocks buttressed a turbulent sea like jagged teeth, and stars studded a night sky, reaching far across a silhouetted landscape of distant mountains. Small clusters of trees appeared like solemn sentinels across a grassy field, tall and still, and a large moon looked down upon a little pond, reflecting its face on the water's surface. The grass became patchy around the lake, before ending at a long descending slope of sand, which trailed into the foam of the crashing waves.

A silhouette of a man stood amongst the trees by the pond. He seemed to be saying something to the dark; voice low and inaudible against the wind and the backdrop of the roaring ocean.

_It isn't deserted after all._ Jack thought. _But... I can't hear what he's saying—_

In the blink of an eye, Jack was suddenly right next to the figure, who was no longer a silhouette. His appearance was visible under the glare of the moon.

_Father!_ He cried, recognising Thomas' face. Before he could say anymore, a tremor shook the ground, and a ripple dispersed from the centred of the pond, breaking Jack's attention.

A towering man—if man it was—suddenly loomed up out of the pond in a spray of water, and waded towards the edge, towards his father. Gradually the being was revealed as it made its way out of a seemingly deep body of water, stepping up onto the bank. Its head was bowed to its chest under the low hanging branches of a nearby tree, and under the light of the moon, Jack noticed its body was as black as midnight. It took the teenager a moment to realise that the blackness of its form was in fact armour; a hard surface of obsidian, which shimmered with the running rivulets of pond water.

"I have come upon your invitation, Toram, Gaianar of Atlantis, Servant of the Sorrarani," the strange giant said in a deep, hollow voice from behind its black visored helmet. "Come to the one who harbours the Crown of Dreams. The Destroyer of the World."

Jack's eyes grew wide. "Dad has the Crown?" he could barely speak; his voice sounded dull and far away. "But how? Father!"

When his father did not respond to his cry, Jack caught himself, remembering that Thomas, the stranger and the beach were all a projected memory from the Statue of Abadendros. Released from the Memory Stone he had channeled it into.

He was lucid in his father's memory.

_I'm still in the Chamber of Sleep,_ he thought. _But it all seems so real.._.

For a moment Jack had fooled himself into thinking he could feel the ocean breeze tickling his skin and filling his nostrils with the scent of salt. Could feel the soft, sandy grass between his toes. In truth, he felt disconnected, as if his thoughts were his only presence in the memory.

"And it is an honour to meet you, Armak Tor'Kai," Thomas said, bowing low to the visitor. "Great Messenger of the Mir. Teacher of Men."

The giant spread his arms out wide, and arched his head back, standing as tall as he could. To Jack's surprise, the armoured plates suddenly split down the centre of the chest plate, releasing a cracking sound like a crab being pried open by a knife and fork. The obsidian plates then began moving and shifting around the sides of the creature, overlapping each other as they merged at a central point at the back, revealing the creature within.

A human-shaped creature, who was translucent like a luminous jellyfish, peeled itself out of the armour and stepped forward onto the grass. The black armour remained standing perfectly still. Motes of light glowed beneath the creature's flesh, and its skeletal structure was also partly visible as dark shapes. The face of the Mir had a small slit for a mouth, no nose, and two hollows that dipped to pearl-coloured orbs for eyes. Three gills on either side of its neck moved rhythmically with each breath it took, and tiny tuffs of glowing tentacles waved in patches across its muscular body. Around his neck hung a silver chain, baring a circular medallion. A symbol that was etched on that medallion was alien to Jack, and did not look like the writings of the Three Empires he had seen.

_It is a symbol of his house._ Mathias' voice came out of the wind, causing him to jump. A faint outline of the general suddenly began to take shape next to Jack, made of thin laces of silver light. When his body was fully visible, he reached out and touched Jack's shoulder and the teenager became visible as well. _Armak Tor'Kai is a messenger. His people, the Mir, were our teachers. Our ancient Gods during the time of creation. Though, they say they did not make us._

Armak Tor'Kai stepped up to Thomas, crouched down and briefly touched the Atlantean's forehead with his right index finger. "U'ark ol'lesha tha'mos thee'shan," the Mir said in its deep voice. "The waves part for you, Thomas, to bare you the knowledge you seek. And a warning."

"The Crown is safe," Thomas replied, touching the Mir's forehead in its customary greeting.

"For now," Armak Tor'Kai said, standing. "The waves are restless, and your people are at war. The rebels have also attempted to contact us. But they have not found the Sea of Light, nor the ways to our kingdoms. Few do. But we have found their messages. Such messages will go unheeded by my people, of course, for we are governed by The Change, and it has warned us against such alliances with Kaelan."

Looking disturbed by this news, Thomas swung away from the Mir, casting a pensive gaze out across the pond. "What is this warning you must give me?" he asked, pacing along the edge of the glittering water.

Armak Tor'Kai followed him with his pearl-like eyes, his expression unreadable. "We know that you do not wish to go back to the past, Toram. We know your heart is here, in this time. You have told me of your family and I could see the love in your eyes when you spoke of them. You do not want to destroy the Crown before the Fall. You want to destroy it now... and destroy the Rising Hope, to prevent a way back."

"This is something my people do not understand," Thomas replied, bitterly. "They want to return to the time of the Three Empires. And I can't blame them." He then turned to face the Mir and his visage was determined. "But my heart is here, now. We are all here, now. Changing the past will only meddle with the Aether. I am a Gaianar and I have sworn to protect the Flow of the Aether. By right, we should have died during the Fall! What is this warning you have for me?"

"We are of the same mind then, Toram," the Mir said, surprising Thomas with its answer. The eldritch giant extended out two empty hands compassionately. "We agree that the Crown of Dreams must be destroyed in _this_ time.

Jack felt Mathias' hand grip his shoulder firmly.

"In the High Temple of our city," Armak Tor'Kai continued, "in the Mirror of Worlds, the Change showed us the Flow of the Aether. Showed us what the future would hold for all our peoples if the Crown was destroyed in the past, just as your people would want it. Sparing your civilisations from destruction. It is a dark future, Toram. Full of despair. Not only for Man and Mir alike, but for Gaia itself. The planet will suffer."

Thomas was taken aback. "Go on," he said, his eyes glowing in intense white fire.

"Emperor Ka'ash II will finally defeat Atlantis, and the Three Empires will unite as one under his crimson banner. Then the lands will begin their transformation. The destruction of all forests and jungles, and the construction of the great cities of Rama. Cities far larger and grander than the ones you see now. With their black towers, like fingers pointing accusation at the heavens.

"During this age, technology will finally be able to unlock the mystery of immortality, giving the Ramaean Lords unending lives. They will become the new gods of a subjugated people. Your people, Thomas, and even mine. A soulless empire built on the backs of slaves. All the royal lines will be abolished, and your friends and loved ones will be enslaved for their allegiance to the old kings. The Sorrarani will be executed, by order of the Ever-living Emperor, Ka'ash II. He who will live to see thousands of years untainted by the age of time."

Falling to his knees, Thomas dropped his gaze into the sandy grass in despair. "No, this cannot be. I cannot let this happen."

"Neither can I," Jack whispered by Mathias' side. His eyes were locked on his father with determination, and he did not notice Oreus, Will, Cloak and Layla materialising beside him.

"No, and neither can we," Armak Tor'Kai said. "Your civilisation was prophesied to fall, and fall it must. You must go back to the past and retrieve the Maker's Hand. A hammer created by the Azlazarani who made the Crown of Dreams. Only it can destroy that accursed thing. For the Crown is connected to the Aether by an ethereal knot, an invisible bind that cannot be undone by simply destroying its physical form."

"I have heard of the Maker's Hand," Thomas said, standing. "The Aer'Ashan told me of it. However, it disappeared when the Azlazarani entered the Aether. It was never found—"

"It was," the Mir cut in, stepping closer to him. "It was found by several Sorrarani priests and was sent by sea ship to Atlantis before her siege. Its last known whereabouts to my people—for we directed that ship in good faith—was the port city of Imnalain along the Silver Song River. What happened afterwards, we do not know. Our guides did not return. And even now, the currents of the deepest oceans do not reveal the whereabouts of the hammer.

"So, you must return with the Rising Hope, Toram, and seek the city of Imnalain. Retrieve the Maker's Hand and come back here, to this time, to destroy the Crown of Dreams. Let this new generation of Man live and find their destiny with the Flow of the Aether. Your people's time is over.

"Now, I must tell you where your people can find your lost city of Atlantis."

**CHAPTER 21: A FATHER'S PROMISE**

The stars suddenly extinguish in the sky and darkness consumed the beach. Thomas and Armak Tor'Kai disappeared, leaving the Lemurians and Jack standing in an empty void.

A light suddenly appeared in the dark. Then another.

Thomas' face appeared around the lights, which were his eyes. Then the rest of his body began to emerge from the void, which was fast fading. Colour bled into the emptiness, painting yet another memory in the Chamber of Sleep.

His father stood at the edge of a white marble balcony; pot plants, tables and chairs strewed about as if Thomas had knocked them aside in a mad dash. Elegant, pillars shaped like beautiful women held a roof above the platform, and a vibrant, orange sunset squinted through the gaps in the balcony's railing, which he leaned over.

_Atlantis!_ Jack's mind raced, and he rushed over to the railing next to his father. He turned his head about in all angles, taking in what he hoped would be a the breathtaking view. Then his eager smile slipped away and was replaced with gaping look of horror.

Below, the city was sinking.

Great waves crashed upon the buildings, and hundreds of people—appearing like ants from his great height—were crushed and swept into a swirling vortex at the heart of the city. Like a drain in a bath, it dragged everything in; buildings, towers, statues, and great ships whose towering masts flew colourful flags of every nation of Lemuria. Merchant and war ships, all drawn down, one by one, into the dark depths of a hungry sea. And bit by bit, that sea rose gradually, up and up and up...

Fire raged like a furnace in every window of every building, licking at the stones and devouring the wood and flesh of those within. The screaming and wailing of the dying could only be heard between the rhythmic crash of each wave. Between the pause of the wind's thunderous breath that whipped the sky in frenzy of flying debris.

Thomas' gaze was shifted to something far above the rooftops of the city. A single, stationary spot in the air. When Jack squinted against the haze of the sun, he identified the spot to be a man. His arms waved above his head like he was a conductor of a symphony. It was as if he was directing the carnage and destruction below.

"Ka'ash II," Mathias said, drawing Jack's attention to the stoic general standing beside him like one of the pillars holding the balcony roof. "His last moments, before the utter destruction of the world."

The Rama Emperor suddenly arched his entire body as a gigantic bolt of lightening struck him from the heavens, lighting up the sky. It engulfed him and hit the whirling waters below, where it reflecting a blinding flash before vanishing. The turbulent waters seemed to suddenly be released from some invisible force, and stopped spinning. The cyclonic winds dissipated, harmlessly blowing against the last walls of the city.

Thomas leaned even further over the rail, his eyes still plastered on the spot where Ka'ash II had been. Jack scanned the skies, but saw nothing but empty space; and fluttering, burning streamers of what he assumed was the emperor's garbs drifting on a little wind.

Then he saw it. A wink of light, a reflection from the sun against gold and silver, descending like a stone from the sky. The Crown of Dreams.

"Mathias look!"

"I see it, Jack," the general said, watching the memory unfold quietly by the teenager's side. "The Crown falls. The Rama Emperor was no match for its intense power."

"Where will it go—the sea?" Will said, suddenly stepping up to the rail also.

"It might hit the—" Layla started, then gasped.

"The Statue of Thae'il Amraethar." Cloak finished.

"By the Mir's wisdom!" Oreus added.

They all saw the Crown of Dreams fall, and land—by fate or some guided will—upon the open out stretched left hand of a giant statue, which rose far above the last standing towers and buildings. The First Emperor of Lemuria had caught the great power of the Azlazarani.

"Got it." A voice broke everyone's awe at what they thought was luck.

All eyes moved to Thomas, and then the truth was revealed. His eyes glowed white, and his hands were outstretched. He had guided it to its perch.

Something seemed to break his concentration, and Thomas turned to look back the way he had come from across the balcony.

"I am calling him to the Rising Hope," Mathias said, nodding slowly, putting all the pieces together in his calculating head. "He will tell me to give him more time, that he will be there soon..."

Thomas' face reflected just that. An urgent conversation with someone far away. Then he turned back and forced his will upon Thae'il's hand with his entire psychic strength. His eyes intensifying in brightness.

There was a loud, resounding crack, and the open hand holding the crown suddenly jerked as Thomas' psychic grip strove to break it apart. Spiderwebbed cracks splintered around its wrist and at the joint of every finger. There was another shudder in the marble, and in one last grunt from the Atlantean, the fingers broke apart and collapsed in on themselves, closing over the Crown of Dreams. The wrist also snapped from the forearm, and the marble fist dropped into the ocean like a lead ball. A spray of water shot into the air as it sunk down beneath the dark tides that continued to rise. Turning one last time to look at the statue of the First Emperor of Lemuria, Thomas bowed low.

"Farewell, First Lord of Lemuria, Great King of Atlantis. May you guard our city until we return." He then ran away from the railing and dashed through an open doorway into the tower that supported the balcony they stood on.

Jack watched his father leave. Excitement and sadness in his eyes. These memories were stirring up emotions he had thought he had reigned in. Then he said, "Why didn't dad take the Crown with him?"

"He would not risk it," Mathias answered. "Thomas must have feared it falling into one of our people's hands. Remember, those who were aboard the Rising Hope did not all turn out to be honourable people; Kaelan and the other rebels would have made a move to claim it."

Then the ground began to shake, and they all watched as the balcony began to slant and fall with the rest of the tower. The Lemurians and Jack stood suspended in space, and darkness whirled in again to consume Thomas' memory.

When the light was visible again, it was a sun about to sink beneath the still surface of the sea. The sky was already dark and full of stars. There was no land to see in all directions.

They all stood above the surface of the sea as if it was glass.

A white motor yacht with the words "The Singing Siren" stencilled on its side lay in the breast of the gentle rocking waves. The deck windows were glowing yellow against the dark, and a silhouette of a man stood at the prow, hands on his hips.

"Thomas is searching for something," Mathias said to the others. "He took this boat to remote islands all around the world. He was the first of us to find Atlantis and its ruins..."

There was a staggered pause in Mathias' voice. He had just discovered something.

"What is it?" Jack asked.

"If I am correct, this memory will show us the moment that your father... recovered the Crown of Dreams!"

Everyone watched the scene unfold, their thoughts unspoken.

The silhouette of Thomas suddenly raised his arms into the air and held that pose for a long time. A white light began to radiate from him like an aura, and the air was suddenly a-hum with psychic energy. Finally, a ripple broke the ocean's surface, followed by an upwards explosion. A column of water swirled up from the waves, spiralling many hundreds of feet into the air above the yacht. At the very top of the column, balancing and spinning on a plume of white froth was large shadowy bulk. When their eyes adjusted better to the dark, they noticed it was the marble fist of Thae'il.

"He took the Crown, and did not tell us," Mathias said. "I suspect it was to protect us. But I fail to see why he could not tell me. Never mind. Toram had already made his plans to destroy the Crown by order of the Mir."

"And by his own convictions," Cloak said, his voice a cold wind on Jack's neck.

"Yes, his own convictions," Mathias echoed the Nysaean. "It was perhaps fate that he fell in love with Eleanor and this world as well. The Change cannot be denied, the Mir are wise, but to be aligned like this, one cannot help but wonder how we are being guided."

Then the memory was gone. Back into the void.

Mount Spire loomed out of a wall of morning mist, its rocks tearing through the wisps of grey like a ship's prow parting ocean waves. The Lemurians and Jack suddenly found themselves moving, or floating, towards the mountain they had escaped from two days ago. The memory moved them through the mountain wall—Jack shut his eyes, forgetting for a moment it was merely a projected illusion—and into a large cavern. The earthen roof was a-glow with gloam orbs suspended by the roots of trees, growing somewhere above their heads on the mountain top.

"Dad's workshop!" Jack exclaimed, his eyes lighting up at the familiar sheet-cloaked silhouettes in the cavern's gloom, and the tools scattered across the cold stone floor, collecting dust.

A lone figure stood among the silent machinery and half repaired sky-ships. It was Thomas, and he was wearing oil-stained overalls and holding a wrench in one hand. Jack's father turned to the group and looked straight through them, his thoughts somewhere beyond the mountain wall. He then placed the wrench on a small trolly and wiped his brow.

Kneeling on the stone floor, covered in a thick layer of dirt and oil, Thomas began picking at a spot on the ground with a bolt.

"What is he doing?" Jack asked.

"I believe we are about to find where he has kept the Crown of Dreams all these years," Mathias answered.

"It was right under our feet!" Layla exclaimed.

"The most obvious of places," Cloak added.

Oreus remained wide-eyed and silent.

Gradually, Thomas' bolt picked away enough of the sludge to reveal to the group what appeared to be a key hole. He then reached out to another spot on the ground further away, and began to trace the outline of a large circle around himself and the key hole. The circle was in fact a crack in the stone, and his bolt had removed a build up of grime that had concealed its visibility.

_The outline of a door!_ Jack thought.

"This is where you will find the Crown of Dreams, Jack," Thomas said, standing and looking right at him. "I have concealed the wretched thing in the floor of my workshop for the past few years. It is booby trapped and sealed against all invasive thoughts."

Jack knew his father wasn't talking directly to him; that this was a memory recorded in the past to be delivered to him now.

"Thanks dad," he whispered, smiling and nodding as if he was conversing with Thomas.

"If you are seeing these memories Jack, then you know that I am either captured... or dead."

The brief joy evaporated, and Jack dropped his head down, hiding a sudden surge of sadness. He swallowed it down.

"Whatever the outcome, I am truly sorry."

"No need," Jack said, lifting his head and smiling ruefully.

"I wish I could have completed this quest with you, and the others of course. Retrieved the Maker's Hand from Imnalain and bring it back here to my workshop. Ah, just to see Lemuria one last time. Well... Mathias, I am sure has been looking after you."

Mathias half bowed to the memory of the man. "It has been a long journey," the general said softly.

"Anyway... the key to this secret chamber... is right here." Thomas reached into his overalls and withdrew a long, copper shank, with the jagged rays of a rising sun as the key's bit. It rested in grease-stained hands for a moment for all to see, before Thomas' fingers enveloped them. "I will keep it on me at all times. _All_ times."

"Yes," the general said as if he understood. A smile flit across his lips. "Of course."

Confused, Jack pulled at Mathias' arm for an answer; but the giant continued to watch the scene unfold.

Thomas threaded the key with a small chain and clasped it around his neck.

"It will remain here, for safety," Thomas said. "And should I die, you will know where to find it."

"Old Valour Cemetery," Mathias spoke aloud, so all could hear.

"Jakar Aradas... Jack Grey, I promise, by my sweat and blood, by all the power I can muster, my very life, we will destroy this Crown of Deceit, and end the war. And you, Jarro and Aeolorna... James and Alora... Rowan, Emily and your mother will all live long and amazing lives under the guard of my people. You have my word. I love you son. Goodbye."

_My true name?_ Jack thought. _I am Jakar Aradas!_

Jack ran forward to embrace the image of his father, unashamed of the tears he wept. Before he could reach Thomas's smiling figure all went black.

"I saw you go inside there, Desert Rat!" Rykar's voice roared through the timbre of the door. "Open up! Or I will smash my way in!"

"I just want a moment alone," a small, but defiant voice yelled back. It belonged to Ramose.

"Don't lie to me!" Rykar beat the door again with his gauntleted fists. "You are sneaking around these halls searching for weaknesses. Gathering information! I don't care what my father says, you're a traitor!"

In the cleaner's store room, the djinn leaned his shoulder against the door, which trembled with the aggressive blows of the Atlantean in the hall. He had braced the door with a mop between two gloam orb fixtures on either side of the door-frame, and wedged a chock of wood under the bottom rail for extra security; but knew that sooner or later, the raging man would break his way in.

"What do you want from me, Rykar?" Ramose shouted over the loud banging. "I only want to sleep."

"In the broom closet?" the Atlantean cried incredulously. "You lie!"

Ramose was about to unsling his Staff of Dancing Winds and wait for his adversary, when there was a sudden sound of a door creaking open in the hall, which ended Rykar's ruckus.

"What are you doing, Rykar?" Will growled, rushing over to the man with his hands clenched in fists.

Layla pushed her way passed the Hy-Bresailian and grabbed Rykar's shoulder, spinning him around to face her. "Leave the boy alone! He is probably scared out of his wits being alone in his quarters, where your men have taken the liberty of prowling about. Oreus has already—"

"Deemed Ramose a guest!" Oreus' voice boomed through the tumult of outbursts and walked up to Rykar, with Mathias not far behind him. "Did I not make myself clear, son? The djinn is our guest. And that means you are to let him roam the halls wherever he wishes to go."

The door to the cleaner's room creaked open slowly, and a shadow slinked out into the light. Ramose stood defiantly next to Will, eyeballing Rykar with his Staff of Dancing Winds nimbly rolling around his wrists. There was no fear in his face.

Grabbing the djinn's arm, Layla yanked him over to stand next to her.

Rykar crossed his arms over his broad chest, his eyes moving from Ramose to Will, where they lingered threateningly. After a fuming moment of silence, he finally spoke. "I was curious is all. The rat—er, boy was following your group, father, then disappeared into that closet. I found it quite odd. It appeared he was stalking you—"

"And why were you following us, then?" Mathias asked, his eyes piercing the darkness like deadly dagger tips. "Your father and I have had enough of your insolence, Rykar Isaleph. You are to return to your quarters immediately. We are about to strategise a war council for the quest tomorrow morning."

"Am I not welcome to this war council?" the hot-headed warrior asked, turning his unflinching gaze to Mathias. "I have led the Library soldiers since your departure, Aramathaeus. I think I should have a place at the table."

"No," Oreus intervened. "It is only for those who have been chosen to go back in the Rising Hope. Your place is here. It is not that we don't trust you..."

"I don't," Will said, his jaw tense.

Rykar glared at his apparent rival, but said nothing.

"The knowledge of the quest must be limited to a few," Oreus continued. "Should any of our high ranking lords and generals be captured by the rebels, the less who know about it the better. That includes yourself, as well as your brother and sister. And Captain Acareth Illim of the City Watch, Kalaidan of the Taraal, Lord Thuruum'gar Omoreth of Hyperborrea, and—"

"Old Snow Beard would die for you father! He was my right gauntlet in the recapture of Zerzura!"

"I know, and his chair will be vacant at this war council, also. No compromises."

"Yet you let this rabble know all your secrets!" Rykar spat, his rage unsheathed. "Aramathaeus' loyal dogs, a half-breed child and that desert rat!"

"Oh the injustice of it all," Cloak mocked from the shadows of the hallway, his cold, raspy voice cutting through the argument like a shank in the back. His hooded visage sneered at Rykar. "Impetuous fool. Your father has made his decision, now back off."

Rykar made a deadly lunge at Cloak, but Mathias and Will caught him by each arm and flung him backwards. Mathias then kept moving forward, until he had Rykar up against the opposite wall. His forearm under his chin, holding his right hand above his head, while Will held his left.

"Do not think I will not make any punishments against you, even in the face of your father." His voice was low and harsh, through gritted teeth. "You have disgraced him, and you have disgraced me. _I_ am still the general of Atlantis, and you will do as I say. Is that clear?"

Rykar's eyes moved from Cloak's shadowed hood to the general who was twice his size and strength. Slowly, he nodded his submission. "Yes, Lord Sepharam."

Mathias uncoiled his fingers from around Rykar's wrist, dropped his forearm, and stepped back.

Jack was shocked, but kept himself concealed behind Will.

Layla held back a snicker. _You haven't seen that side of Mathias, have you?_ Her voice popped in Jack's head.

_No, and I don't think I would like to see him like that again._ Jack replied.

"Shamed in front of your father—" Cloak hissed.

"Erin, enough!" The general shouted, turning his scorching eyes at the Nysaean. "Your words have caused enough damage tonight."

"I will not be threatened by this fool," Cloak rebuked, flinging a limp handed gesture at Rykar. "No one _ever_ threatens me. _Ever._ Watch yourself, Son of Oreus. It will take a legion of men to stop me if I choose to finish this."

The Samatar glared at Rykar, then stalked away from the group down the hall, and into the darkness beyond.

"Erin!" Will shouted after his companion. When Cloak didn't stop and look back, the blonde-haired man sighed and ran after him.

Eight soldiers suddenly appeared out of the shadows. They wore sashes of dark purple with a black star, which showed their loyalty to Rykar. Their scowls and hands on their glaive handles were enough for Mathias to know what would happen if he attempted to humiliate Rykar again.

"We are done here," Mathias said to Oreus, then directed Jack, Layla and Ramose with a nod to follow Will.

_We will meet you in your study in an hour_. Mathias' said to the High Librarian with his thoughts as he shadowed Jack and Layla.

Oreus watched them leave, then turned to his son. "Rykar—"

"Goodnight, father," his son snarled as he stormed off in the opposite direction of the others, his men flanking him. "You have made your alliances! You can keep them!"

Shaking his head, Oreus leaned against the wall. He sighed, then began to follow after Mathias.

"This war will divide us, and surely drive us mad," he said to the shadows.
**CHAPTER 22: PLANS**

Oreus' study chamber was large and elegant, with two twelve-foot doors at one end, and a gloam-wood desk at the other. Behind the desk was a window that looked out over the front lawn of the Chamber of Lore; a splendid arch of intricate design—figures carved in white stone, entwined in an epic battle between long-lanced wielding Atlanteans in flowing cloaks and thick limbed Osirians with heavy armour and angular maces—which framed a mosaic window of many colours.

In the centre of the room was a large table of dark mahogany—a gift from some wealthy lore-kin carpenter that helped restore most of the Library's furniture. The squat legs were carved to appear like dragon claws, and around the girth of the thick table were drawers with silver handles and trimmings. The symbols of the great nations of the Lemurian empire were also etched in silver on the panels between the drawers; and a thick layer of glass with smooth edges covered the table-top, displaying a beautiful painting of the city of Atlantis beneath. Tall, glimmering towers shrouded under rolling clouds and a rising sun, whose rays cut through them like golden lances.

A giant leather book with silver cornered covers lay spread open on a wooden book stand in the middle of the table. A map of the Old World was on one page, and the other was a modern map of Earth on transparent paper, which could be turned over to superimpose both maps, revealing where land masses and cities once were. Circling this tome and laying haphazardly across the table were piles of encyclopaedias, note books, scrolls, half melted candles, ink wells and strange looking wood-carved artefacts from different countries. There was also large human-shaped skull in a bird cage, with the word "Nephilim" written on a bronze plaque fitted on its door.

Jack awed at Oreus' strange collection, especially the skull, as he slowly made his way into the room. _Must have been taken from a museum._ He thought. _Nephilim were giants..._

_So are the people from the Three Empires._ Layla replied to his unguarded thoughts, causing him to jump a little. _In comparison to your people, of course._

_Truth and legend... intertwined._ Jack replied, his eyes still on the skull.

The half-Atlantean followed Mathias' ushering gestures to a long, black leather couch that ran the length of one of the room's walls. He sat with Layla and Ramose, his eyes flitting about at all the paintings and woven wall art that adorned the chamber. Ancient relics that had been saved from various parts of the world.

"I am truly sorry for the behaviour of my son," Oreus said, resting in his study's chair, which groaned under his weight. His gaze shifted to all the faces of the companions as they entered. "He does not understand what we face, and would never accept the decisions that Toram made for our people. If this is true, and I now know that it is so, any attempt to return our people to the past so we can change the course of history, will surely see the end of Gaia and all her people."

"You do not need to apologise for your son's actions," Mathias replied. He closed the doors to the study with a gentle thud, his eyes closed, his thoughts prying beyond its timbre to keep watch of the hallways outside. Listening for spies. Slowly he opened his eyes again, nodding, confirming their privacy was still kept. "He feels, like Toram, that he is fighting for the good of his people. However, his distrust for us and your decisions makes him a volatile element to our plan. We must keep him away from the scent. Assure him that we seek to save the past. He would never agree with the Armak Tor'Kai's warning, and would not agree with the road we must take."

"The Mir follow the Change," Will said, standing from a stool next to Oreus. His boots clacked across the marble floor as he approached the central table. Reaching out, he slowly peeled the new world map over the top of the old. "The Change is a powerful, living, memory that is embodied in a vast pool of water, which the Mir call the Mirror of Worlds. It sees past, present and future through the Aether—the earth's spirit of entwined memories. If Armak Tor'Kai saw the end of all things because of our people, then I am shamed to want to restore our nations. Let us take this to the people!"

Cloak made a derisive snort from where he stood by a large painting on the opposite wall to the couch. It depicted the fall of Atlantis. A small figure, engulfed in flames, levitating above its ruin was evidently Emperor Ka'ash II. Cloak was admiring it, his finger softly touching the curves of the waves that arched over the island city.

Shrugging off his companion's unspoken ridicule, Will turned to Cloak, with conviction in his blue eyes. "There is no hope for this world in destroying the Crown of Dreams before The Fall. I will not let that happen, Erin. By my blood, I will die for Gaia and her people. So must we all! We must let our people, who trust us, know what we plan to do. If they were to look into the Mirror of Worlds by grace of the Mir—"

"Pretty, but naive words," Cloak laughed, interrupting. "The Mir will not allow such things. And have you considered this, friend, that most if not all of our people _want_ to go home? They _want_ to return to _their_ families who did not make it. They don't care about the fate of the world after their bones are dust."

Will made a move to speak, but Cloak raised a hand to silence him, turning to look at him over his shoulder. "I am not saying I would agree with Rykar. Far from it. The past is the past, and I have quite enjoyed my time here among the short folk." He winked at Jack, before turning back to William.

The teenager shook his head, but couldn't hide his smile at the arrogance of the Samatar he wanted so much to dislike.

"Shocked to hear me say that, I know. But there is something about this time, about this rebuilt world that has me curious to know what future it will hold for them. For us."

"Erinaeus speaks the truth," Oreus said. "Our people will not agree to Toram's plan. They would have me imprisoned or worse if they even suspected that was what we planned to do. No, we must keep this from _everybody_."

"What is the plan then?" Ramose braved to ask, rising from the long leather couch, his Staff of Dancing Winds spinning lazily in his hands.

"The plan is simple," Mathias said. "We go back to the past. We will fly to Imnalain a couple of days before the Last War and wait for the Sorrarani messengers who will be carrying the Maker's Hand upon a swift wind from Suruun. Then we will take it from them, and return back here. Oreus, you must retrieve the key from Thomas' grave, and we will meet you at Mount Spire. Then, we will finally end this war."

"I will gather an army," Oreus said, standing, "and they will meet at Zerzura with the bulk of our forces. This will draw Kaelan's attention, and perhaps give him false hope that the Crown of Dreams is found and being guarded there. To strengthen this ploy, I can send out easily intercepted messages for him to find."

"Yes, that will buy us time." Mathias agreed. "The rebels must not know our movements. The destruction of the Crown must be hidden from the eyes of our enemies—" the general turned to Will, "—and our friends."

"If this must be so..." Will said, bowing slightly.

"It is the only way." Mathias' words were firm, final.

"I have a question," Ramose said, raising his tanned arm. "How did you all manage to sneak into that cleaner's room, then vanish?"

Cloak spun around from the painting and stared at the teenager intensely. "That reminded me, djinn, why were you following us?"

"You can't answer a question with another question," Ramose said, unafraid of the Samatar's demands. "I saw you all file into that small room; and was thinking, that's an odd place to hold a meeting. Then, when I tested the door it was unlocked. So I popped inside... and you were gone! A secret door, perhaps?"

Will laughed at Ramose' cheek, breaking his previously sullen mood.

"We were in the Chamber of Sleep," Mathias said, drawing the djinn's attention. "It resides beyond that small room's back wall."

"But you came out of another room!" Ramose exclaimed, tapping his staff on the floor.

"It has many doors, young djinn," Oreus added, and Jack's head snapped to him.

"Interesting." Ramose slid his hands down the length of his staff, whilst plonking on the couch next to Jack.

"I also have a question," Jack said, jumping to his feet just as Ramose was seated. "Why can't we simply destroy the crown now, without the hammer? I'm sure we could melt it down, or break it apart with the tools we have in this world."

All eyes turned to him, but it was Oreus who answered. "There are dire consequences with destroying it with other tools, Jack. We need to dismantle the Crown with means only available in the time before the Fall. The memory webs that it has now subconsciously woven, even in its dormant state, are far reaching and deep. It has crept into the minds of all those connected to the Aether, which is _everyone_ on this planet. The nature of its power is that it has merged with the Aether as a separate mind, a separate entity, and knows all of our dreams and secret thoughts, and can use them for great and terrible things. For Kha'ash II to pull a star from the sky and smash it into Earth used all our minds, unwittingly. To simply melt it or break it to pieces could destroy memories, shatter minds and bring about a great madness. So say the Mir and the ancient writings of the Azlazarani."

Jack nodded at the grim answer; however he had not run out of questions to ask. "How will you tell your—our people that the Crown was _not_ destroyed in the past then, as they would expect it to be."

Mathias smiled at Jack's use of the word 'our'. "Well, that is what I have been thinking this whole time, young Jack. I will do what your father would have wanted me to do. Not lie."

"But you can't tell them!" Jack found himself suddenly shouting. He knew what would happen if the Keepers discovered Mathias had betrayed their wishes of restoring the past. "I mean, we can't! It will have terrible consequences for all of us!"

"I will take the blame for this decision, Jack." The general stood tall and proud, looking down with a soft smile at the teenager. "I will tell them that it was my decision, and that I gave the orders."

"But—"

"I will most likely be imprisoned by Rykar and his mob, but that is the sacrifice we must make. For all our peoples, yours included. And for the planet itself. We cannot let the message from The Change come to pass. If our people are to die out, and give way to your people, then it will be so."

"They will learn to love this world," Oreus said, with sadness in his eyes. "Some already have. Like your father, Jack. In time, they will forgive us."

"We must consider all our fates," Layla said quickly, looking down at her hands as if searching for strength in them. Then after a moment of silence she lifted her head, her face strong like Mathias'. "I am willing to accept whatever punishment our people deem fit for this necessary deception."

"As will I," Will echoed, blue eyes flashing defiance.

Cloak paused and turned back to the painting.

Ramose kept his face to the ground.

Silence prevailed for a long time.

Jack lingered alone on the veranda and steps of the Chamber of Lore, facing the dark expanse of the hidden city. Beyond the Fathers of Osira towered pillars, bearing the weight of the cavern roof. They were covered in gloam-vines, glowing faintly in the distance like moss covered trees. Hopping up and down the top steps, his mind wandered as he sang and hummed a melody he had remembered hearing in Rowan's car.

" _Let us ride into the night! With wheels of fire burning bright!"_

He suddenly struck a rock and roll pose with his legs spread far apart and hands strumming an air guitar. Flicking his wrists for one triumphant strum of his imaginary instrument, Jack raced down the flight of steps stopping occasionally to strum some more. On the last step he leaped onto the mosaic footpath, kicking the air dramatically.

"Thank you, Alexandria!" He shouted into the darkness, his voice echoing about him. The imaginary crowd cheered, and he bowed to them with a goofy grin.

The cheering faded in his mind, and the darkness remained unchanged.

"If only," he whispered to himself, and his smile vanished.

Jack stood with his hands on his hips, his eyes trying to pry the darkness between the pillars, searching for something that would answer all his questions and doubts about the mission, his father and himself. When no answer leaped from the shadows, or resounded in his head like Layla's voice so often did, he settled down on the last step, his feet firmly planted on the patterned stone. His chin dropped onto his two palms, which were braced by his elbows on his knees.

"What have you gotten yourself into, Jack." His voice was a soft whisper in the breezeless cavern around him. "In some underground city, about to go on a quest in the past to find a magical hammer... that can destroy a magical crown."

"So simply put," a voice shot from behind, causing him to flinch.

"Why do people tend to sneak up behind you around here?" Jack laughed, recognising the distinguishable accent of Ramose. He turned around and saw the big purple-eyed teenager standing on one of the broad, flat rails that braced the steps. "You're just as soft-footed as that damn Rykar."

Ramose laughed, bowed low, then ran, leaped off the rail, summersaulted, and landed next to Jack with a thud. "But stronger, smarter, and better looking. Rykar looks like he would scare a girl away by simply smiling those big crooked teeth of his."

"He doesn't seem like much of a charmer, does he?"

"I think that brute would even scare a Nasnas!"

Jack raised a brow. "What's a Nasnas?"

"You haven't heard of the sand devils that inhabit dead bodies?"

"Sounds like another mythology that turns out to be true." Jack's face looked like he'd heard it all.

Ramose nodded, then laughed. "This must all be very strange for you."

"You don't know the half of it," Jack said, turning back to the glowing pillars in the distance. He looked at his watch and then back at the pillars, pointing at them. "They are the only lights we'll see tonight. We won't get to see the Egyptian sunrise."

"Do you want to see the sunrise?" his companion asked, and he could feel the teenager was smiling at him mischievously.

"But how? We can't possibly—"

"Beyond the Inner Sanctum is the Hall of Lords, and The Rise. A great staircase to the streets of Alexandria. It is the main route for lore-kin and Lemurian journeymen. Under disguises we could just as easily—"

"Get caught."

The pair spun around and found Mathias standing on the steps behind them. The giant loomed like one of the foreboding statues that circled the lawn of the Chamber of Lore. His shadowed brow barely hiding his storm-grey eyes, and making his angular face look more like a chiselled cliff-face.

"You mentioned something about people sneaking up on you," Ramose whispered to Jack with a wink.

"Mathias!" Jack said, jumping to his feet. "We-we weren't planning to... what I mean is..."

"What my friend is trying to say," Ramose said, standing calmly next to Jack, "is that he wasn't planning our escape to the up-world, so we could sneak a peak at an Alexandria sunrise... _I_ was planning our escape. He was just tagging along."

A prompt elbow jab to his ribs ended any more words the djinn might have wanted to say.

For a moment Jack thought Mathias would thunder down the last few steps that separated them and throttle them both in his powerful hands; but instead he stood perfectly still, unmoving. Finally, he turned and began to carefully ascend the steps.

The boys both looked at each other, puzzled.

Mathias stopped. "Well?" He said, not turning. "Are you coming to see the sunrise or not?"

A pause, then Jack and Ramose leaped after him with huge grins.

"Come on, Jack!" the djinn laughed, running passed Mathias towards the doors of the Chamber of Lore. "You're not wanting to miss this!"

"I'm right behind you!" Jack shouted, passing Mathias up the stairs. He skidded to a halt on mid-climb, and turned back. There was apprehension on his face.

"This is allowed, under my watch," Mathias answered, knowing what his unasked question was. "I am still the general of Atlantis' armies. The guards who protect The Rise will let us passed. You have nothing to fear, Jack."

"Okay, but as long as we don't draw any attention. I wouldn't want to aggravate Rykar anymore than I've already done."

"Leave Rykar to me," Mathias said. "This is simply... 'site seeing', as your people would call it."

"Thanks," Jack said, smiling. "I appreciate it."

The general nodded, and then shooed him onwards.

"Come on, feet-dragger!" Ramose' voice called from the top of the steps.

"Coming!" Jack laughed, and sprinted up the last of the steps.

**CHAPTER 23: ONE LAST SUNRISE**

The Rise was a great staircase that ascended to the surface of the city of Alexandria. Cut into the rock and soil foundations of the city hundreds of years ago by the Historian Brotherhood, it connected the Ancient Library to the New Library, and had been commonly used by lore-kin. During the day, the doors were accessible by those who knew of its existence; but of late they had been sealed shut because of the increased presence of rebels in the city. Oreus had allowed its use sparingly, and had double his men's watch of it from both above and below. His enforcers scoured the streets of Alexandria, seeking out the pockets of rebels and their lore-kin sympathisers. Lately however, the street battles had ceased, and Oreus' men had secured a peace that seemed to have lasted for months. Mathias had even heard from various spies that the rebels had moved away from the city to find another way into the Library. Regardless of this reprieve, he still remained vigilant and wary.

"This seems like a bit of climb, just to get between Alexandria and the Library," Jack huffed, trying to keep pace with Ramose, Mathias and five Atlantean soldiers in tow. The passageway glowed softly from the gloam-vines that emerged from the rock walls, netting them like a myriad of blood vessels. "Haven't you guys heard of lifts?"

Mathias chuckled, causing Jack to jump. He rarely saw the man even crack a smile at the poorest of jokes, let alone laugh. "This way is rarely used," The general said. "The steps were made a long time ago. Our people use various other passageways to get to the surface now; and yes, we do use lifts. Some of those pillars that hold up the cavern are hollow, with lifts in them. The lore-kin architects who helped restore our home are continuously debating with Oreus on ways to expand and improve our hidden city. However, it is a long, drawn out process as Oreus tends to clash with them. Aesthetics over practicality."

Jack smiled, amusingly. He knew the importance of practicality in buildings from his architectural subjects at university. Oreus, from what he picked up on the man, was an idealist with ravishing taste for the arts and the exotic. He had a different way of looking at the world and how things should run, which did not seem to bode well with others, like his son Rykar. Or were merely tolerated by some, like Mathias.

"But, I thought I would show you the old route," Mathias continued. "Built by the Historian Brotherhood, who maintained this city before we came."

As they ascended the stairs, Jack noticed an obsidian marble platform a hundred feet ahead of the climb, surrounded by the tight squeeze of the passageway's rocks, forming a small chamber. A gloam orb was half-buried in the centre of the floor, shinning up and illuminating the roof. The steps continued on beyond the chamber, disappearing into the darkness.

When they reached the platform, Mathias said, "There are four more of these before we reach the surface."

"No sweat," Jack puffed, managing a half smile. He then whispered to Ramose, "I don't remember being this unfit. The fight didn't seem this hard."

"The Gaianar armour invigorated your muscles and stamina," the djinn answered, striding ahead as if the steps were a effortless stroll. "Keep up, you'll need to earn your strength without magic. The climb is high, but the fall is greater."

Jack tried to piece the logic in Ramose' proverb, but shrugged in defeat and ran after him.

It was sometime—which felt like hours to Jack—before they finally came to the last—fifth—chamber. This one had no more steps, but was a dead end with a metal door in the rock face. The door had no handle, and in its centre was four metal cubes etched in Osirian script, which formed a single, larger cube.

Standing in front of the door was a lean, gaunt-faced man with spindly fingers resting on the hilt of a glaive at his hip. He had a white, patchy beard, long hair, and grey eyes like Mathias. Unlike the general's, which were stoic and usually unreadable, there was a sadness in them as if he had seen too many battles and not enough hope.

"The way is clear," the stranger said, his voice a laboured breath.

"Jack, Ramose," Mathias said, gesturing to the old soldier. "This is Captain Acareth of the City Watch."

The thin man bowed low. "It is a great honour to meet you both. Jack, son of Toram, and Ramose, a Lord of the Desert. Mathias has told me about the symbol on your chest. Welcome."

Both teenagers bowed back; Jack, somewhat awkwardly.

"Greetings Acareth," Ramose said, "I am honoured to meet the head of the City Watch. I hear the rebels have been keeping you busy."

"Not busy enough," Acareth replied, followed with a wary laugh that was empty of mirth. "It has been quiet for months. They have run back to their holes in the desert, and now we wait for their next move. I suspect the rebels are back under a single flag, again. If you are not aware, there were several factions that split from the Dark Tide, not long ago; however these _collaborative_ attacks on the Library makes me think Kaelan has executed the upstarts, and brought his sheep back into his fold."

"That is what we suspect," Mathias added. "A fractured rebellion is easy enough to control; but a focused one, with one leader, will be much harder to quell."

Acareth sighed. "It has taken us a long time to quieten the streets of Alexandria. But it has finally been done. The Taraal—the enforcers of Oreus' will—keep a close watch from every roof, every ally, and every shop. Not even the Egyptian secret service could find us here. Our forces in Zerzura, unfortunately, aren't having the same luck. Essios—"

"Fell," Mathias finished the old captain's sentence, grimly. "I know. It has been a great loss for the Library."

A solemn nod, and Alcareth gestured to the door. "The city's library has been secured as you have ordered."

"Having lore-kin in the administrative body has always come in handy," Mathias said.

"You mean the city library is controlled by... the old library downstairs?" Jack asked, turning to look back the way they came.

"Yes," Mathias answered. "Loyalists who obey only Oreus, like the Taraal. Now..."

The general's words trailed away as he reached into jacket's inner pockets and revealed a small silver ring. He placed it on his right hand's little finger and his eyes lit up with white fire. A stream of blue light suddenly leaped from the band and engulfed him, snaking around his limbs. The light then expelled outwards and Mathias was no longer the looming giant Jack had grown accustomed too; he was only a head taller than him.

Following his lead, the five soldiers revealed similar rings. In a blink of an eye they emerged from a swirl of blue light, standing a little shorter than Mathias.

"These are illusionary Nysaean rings," the general said to the teenagers. "To avoid drawing attention to us. You, however, will be wearing these." Alcareth passed Mathias two Nysaean invisibility belts that he had unslung from metal pegs on the wall, who in turn handed them to Jack and Ramose. "You are still under my care, Jack, and all precautions must be taken."

"You've worn these before?" Ramose asked Jack, seeing he was wrapping it around his waist without hesitation.

"Yes," Jack said. "I'm assuming its the same one I wore before I came to the Library. They must have recharged it or something. These things run on those stones that power the Lemurian's ships."

Mathias nodded to Alcareth. "It is time."

Turning to face the large iron door, Alcareth opened his right hand, finger-spread, and hovered it over the small cluster cubes. His eyes lit up, like Mathias', and slowly the smaller cubes began to move. The lower left cube sunk into the surface of the door, and lower right moved over the top of it. Both top cubes sunk into the door, and resurfaced on opposites sides. A new cube rose up from the gap left by the bottom right cube.

"A puzzle," Ramose whispered to Jack.

"An old fashion combination lock," Jack said, grinning. "The door must be hollow and have a few of those cubes inside it."

When all four cubes locked into place, Alcareth pushed them together with the palm of his hand and they all sunk in together, flush with the metal surface. There was a click, and the door began sliding into the left hand side of the door frame. A puff of dust stirred on the floor, and a light crept into the chamber from the other side. After the door had completely retracted, Jack saw a narrow passageway leading up to a... silver lift door. Two arrow lights glowing above it.

"You have got to be kidding me," Jack half laughed. "I was just saying..."

"We had this end 'modernised'," Mathias said. "Took a bit of convincing to have Oreus agree that a cog and pulley system was too tedious and slow. But in the end, after getting him to walk the stairs a few times, he agreed."

Ramose laughed. "I'm sure he would have."

"I will stay here," Alcareth said grabbing Mathias' arm. "My duty is the city. Kalaidan and the Taraal will await you above."

Mathias nodded and patted his comrade on the shoulder. "We won't be long. Just a moment with these younglings. We have much to accomplish in the coming days, so a final sunrise in New Osiria will be good to clear their heads."

The captain nodded, smiling softly. "We all look forward to an end to all this strife. And if you can restore our former glory, restore our world and the ones we lost, then you have the heart and spirit of all our peoples."

Mathias broke from Alcareth's grip and walked towards the elevator, hiding a dark look. "I will do what must be done."

"As you have always done." Alcareth only spoke it loud enough for himself to hear.

Ramose, Jack and the five Atlantean soldiers followed after the general, who strode purposely towards the lift.

When the lift doors parted, Jack found they were in another small room. A single gloam orb hung from a thick chain in the ceiling, casting its light against the four blank, stone walls and a tiled floor. There was no door.

"How do we—" Ramose started to ask; however a hiss of air interrupted him, and suddenly the wall in front of the group rolled back, revealing an extension of the room, which was dimly lit by a swathe of dawn light from an unseen window. Bookshelves lined the walls of this other half, and there were red-brown floorboards instead of tiles. In the southwest corner was wooden door with an antique looking, brass handle.

"Where are we, exactly?" Jack asked Mathias.

"A private collection room in the Library of Alexandria," the general replied, stepping through the threshold of the open wall. The soldiers followed him silently with their glaives unsheathed.

Jack and Ramose shrugged and did likewise. A hiss of air brushed their heels as they stepped onto the floorboards—looking over their shoulders, they watched as the wall rolled back into place, and saw on the other side a large painting depicting the Library of Alexandria on fire.

"Julius Caesar's work," Mathias said, with his back to them and his ear against the wooden door, listening for any movement beyond it. "An accident, supposedly."

Jack swallowed and turned from the painting to the huddled backs of Mathias and the soldiers. "Deja vu. I feel like we've snuck into library in my home town, and we're about to set off the motion detectors. Then the security guards are called in, and a chase through a series of thorn bushes ensues."

"Sounds like you're speaking from memory," Ramose laughed suspiciously.

"Unfortunately," Jack sighed. "My friend Caleb and I—"

The door squeaked open, and both teenagers looked to Mathias who was standing perfectly still. It had been opened from the other side.

A silhouette of a broad-chested man stood in the hallway beyond the door. Mathias spoke with the newcomer for a brief moment in hushed tones, before letting him enter the room.

He looked almost like Mathias' brother in physical form; tall, strong-limbed, with a chiseled face. This man, however, had darker features, with long auburn hair tied in a ponytail, and dark green eyes. He wore a black suit with a deep red tie, two earrings looped each ear, and his fingers were covered in various exotic looking rings that sparkled on their own accord. Jack felt he wasn't mistaken in assuming this man was Thulese in appearance and manner.

"Callan," Mathias said, introducing the man to Jack and Ramose

"Kalaidan in the old language," Kalaidan added, with a soft laugh. "Hello, lads. I am the administrator of this library, and captain of Oreus' topside army."

"The Taraal," Ramose said, smiling and bowing to Kalaidan. "I am sure your people are grateful for your service in suppressing the rebels."

"I am sure they are. However, we do not seek such adoration for the sacrifices we make. It is part of the service to the Library." Kalaidan turned to Jack. "Nice to finally meet you, Son of Toram. I knew your father from his time as High Librarian, before Oreus' ascension. I also fought with him during the Last War in Atlantis."

Jack politely extended his hand. "Nice to meet you, Kalaidan of the Taraal. My father seems to have won many hearts around here."

"He was a good and honest man," the administrator replied with a genuine smile, grasping Jack's hand and shaking it. "Now, let us see this sunrise before the city is fully awake."

Ramose grinned at Jack. "Egypt is a beautiful country, you know. Full of rich history, and beautiful sunrises. I wish you had more time to explore it."

"Me too," Jack said, feeling like it was the last day of a holiday.

The Library sat against the shore of Alexandria's harbour. A jewel of knowledge from the ancient world, now restored and given new life. The building's shape was that of a massive disc inclined toward the Mediterranean sea, evoking the image of the Egyptian sun illuminating the world.

Jack and Ramose—under the cloaking powers of their belts—sat undisturbed on the slanted roof's apex and watched the golden haze of the sun burning along the horizon's line. Thick clouds plumed in the sky, and the ocean breeze tickled their noses, filling their lungs with fresh air they had been denied in the Hidden City.

Mathias and Kalaidan stood nearby, discussing the rebel exodus from Alexandria. It appeared—though their voices were low—that Mathias was grilling the Taraal about which way the rebels had retreated, and if they had found their hideouts in the desert. Kalaidan seemed convinced the enemy were marching on Zerzura, but Mathias appeared doubtful.

"How could your people have survived the Fall?" Jack asked Ramose, watching the sun slowly peel away from the horizon. "I mean, the Lemurians used a time machine. Your people should have been—sorry if this comes off as insensitive, as I don't mean it too—made extinct like the dinosaurs? The world was hit by a huge meteor."

"No offence taken, Jack." Ramose' eyes were also on the sun. "Our records say that the last of ancient Osirians found refuge in the Sun King's secret cities below the ground. Much like the Library that the Historian Brotherhood rebuilt below Alexandria. My people are strong. They have always been survivors. And even though our lands are now mostly deserts, we still remain here. It is because we hold this place sacred. It is a still a beautiful land."

" _You_ are very strong, you know that?" Jack said, closing his eyes against a strong wind that washed over them.

Ramose seemed to be lost in a distant thought. Finally he said, "Maybe I am merely stubborn like my father." Then he laughed.

"You beat Rykar," Jack said, grinning. "And he was a seasoned warrior."

"He simply underestimated a boy from the desert." Ramose finally broke his gaze away from the horizon and looked at his new friend. "I fear no one, Jack, but sometimes... I think I'm pretending. In the end, I'm still just a boy... You know?"

Jack couldn't find words to reply, and simply smiled.

"By the way," he added. "You owe me another match."

They both burst into fits of laughter.

**CHAPTER 24: SOUTHLAKE BATTLE**

Gha'haram dropped the Grey children in the circle of Revenant and Dark Tide rebels. His giant bearlike form towering over them all like a giant monster from some twisted fairytale.

_I have Thomas' children._ He said in all their minds. _Now lets get to business, before the lore-kin arrive._

Holding each other tight, James and Alora cowered under the malicious eyes that analysed them intensely. They could feel the hate and silent accusations emanating from the crowd, fencing them in, waiting for the order to move on them and tear them to pieces.

The Revenant men and women did not take the shape of dogs or wild animals like Veil's pack, but were in their human forms. Tattered clothes hung from their gaunt, ghostly pale bodies, and a haunted hunger dwelt in their blackened eyes. Dead, all of them; holding onto life's last thread through the Doom Stone shards that burned like lanterns in their foreheads.

Amongst the undead, stood the rebel Lemurians who were shawled in black cloaks with glaive-tridents held firmly in their hands. The emblem of the silver skull under a crashing wave were sewn onto the hoods of their cloaks; and on their faces were looks of assured arrogance, which did not hold any sympathy for the modern-world children at all.

Alora began to cry, but James grabbed her face and held it firmly in his hands, looking deep into her eyes with what little courage he had left.

"Don't worry gnat, I'm here," the boy said, trying not to tremble. "I won't let anything happen to you."

"Promise?" she asked with a sniffle, her eyes rimmed with tears.

"I promise," he said, and she didn't doubt the conviction in his voice. "They won't hurt you, I swear."

"Touching," came a voice that brought both captives attention to its owner. A man with one green eye and one blue eye sparkling like gemstones under the dark of the forest's canopy stepped forward from the gathered circle. "However, the boy is right, little miss. No one here is going to hurt you. Least of all, myself. And I tell these brutes what to do." The last comment was directed at the giant bear.

Gha'haram scowled at the insult, but did not say anything.

"My name is Xharan Ar'Taarg." The Atlantean was quite tall, and his long white hair draped down to his shoulders, almost hiding the vine tattoo that crept up his neck. "The Right Hand of Kaelan's armies, when our esteemed leader is absent."

Evidently Gha'haram did not agree, as he rose to a more threatening height.

"That bear-creature is Gha'haram Vith'Daethar. He was once a Nysaean; a good, noble man of great lineage. Then he met a fellow by the name Meztor, who was not too terribly nice—kind of like me—and was tempted by the Doom Stone. Now he is what you call a Revenant. But I'm sure you already know that. An undead, life-force sucking parasite—"

Gha'haram growled a warning at Xharan's jibe and bared his teeth. Then his body suddenly began to stretch and tear itself apart. Animal fur and claws retracted into gaping wounds that had opened up all over it; which were quickly sealed over by newly formed flesh and skin. He also began to shrink in height—the sound of bones inside his body compacting into each other. Gradually the transformation was complete, and a man with black hair and dressed in scant rags collapsed onto his hands and knees. Closed eyes shot open and two pools of midnight stared at James and Alora, who flinched under his savage gaze. "That is all you need to say about me, Xharan."

Climbing to his feet, the Revenant leader walked over to stand just behind the Dark Tide captain like an unwanted shadow.

"What do you want from us?" James demanded from Xharan. "We have nothing of value. And we don't know where our brother is. Even if we did, we wouldn't tell you!"

Xharan glided across the lawn that the children huddled on, and loomed above them. "You have something your father left behind. Something that will change the tide of war to our favour." He squatted down next to James with his elbows on his knees and his fingers steepled under his chin. "You probably don't know what I am talking about. But it will become crystal clear once I reach into that mind of yours and snatch out the memories I'm after."

"I won't let you," James said, but he doubted his own words after uttering them.

The rebel's face seemed to soften, but it was not because of kindness; it was a look of pity. "James, you know as well as I do that you have no power here. Your father never trained you, and you carry no weapons that I can see. Surely you do not think that I am at your mercy?"

"I-I..." James stuttered. " _We_ don't have those memories."

"I will be the judge of that," Xharan said with a cold smile. He then reached into his black jacket and withdrew an archaic looking device that caged a large diamond. A magnify glass protruded from it on a small copper arm. "The Akashic Eye can see all things, James. All your darkest dreams..."

Jai's right arm was hooked around Dart's neck, holding the Revenant in a firm headlock.

"You will never defeat us all," the giant Revenant growled, his hands clawing at Jai's choking forearm. "We will tear you apart, including the children. We will feed on your flesh!" He strained to stand up from his knees, but the Kratoth's strength pressing down on his back was unyielding. He even tried to use his inherent power to absorb Jai's essence; but something was stopping him from doing so.

"Is that so?" Jai said, squeezing tighter. The gold bands on his arms glowed brighter as the Revenant tried to absorb him—counteracting the dark power with its own. He reached out his hand, and Rowan tossed his glaive to him.

"Enough!" Veil screamed, her nails suddenly growing long like curved daggers. "Release him, or you will pay dearly!"

"You were going to kill us anyway," Jai laughed. "I will release this brute, if you release the children."

Veil was about to say something, then hesitated. Her fear of Gha'haram and Xharan was too great to even entertain a truce for the life of her friend and personal bodyguard. "You will not escape," she finally said, her voice cold. "You will all die."

"No!" Dart howled, reaching out a clawed hand to his master. "Veil!"

"Harming James and Alora," Jai whispered in Dart's ear, "is something you will _never_ live to accomplish."

Raising his glaive into the air, Jai shaped it around his fist into a metallic gauntlet with spiked knuckles, then smashed it into Dart's forehead, shattering his Doom Stone shard.

The Revenant's body went limp in the Kratoth's arms. Then it ignited into flames, burning to ash.

"Kill them!" Veil screamed, pointing a long black nail at the lore-kin. "Kill them all!"

A howl of bloodlust erupted like a ravenous chorus from the pack of Revenant and they surged forward like a wave, with Veil at their lead.

Rowan, Emily and Jai held their glaives ready; each blade changing into various deadly shapes as each wielder searched for their preferred weapon.

"Now we can have some _fun_!" Arthur said with a devious grin as he unslung his backpack and began rummaging inside. Finally his hands withdrew two, grey, metallic spheres. Reeling his right arm back like a baseball pitcher, he hurled the first sphere into the advancing line of Revenant. Then the second. They both had time to roll for a brief second until...

Boom!

A wall of a flames shot upwards from the turf and five Revenant were blown to pieces, their Doom Stone shards shattered from the blast. Smouldering pieces of charcoal rained down over a yawning crater in the ground that was almost twenty feet wide.

Boom!

Four more dead.

"Thomas did not leave one single memory in either of them!" Xharan shouted in frustration, pulling the Akashic Eye away from Alora's whimpering face. Light projected from the diamond into the air forming a mirage of Alora laughing and running away from an irritated James hot on her heels—a memory Xharan had been perusing. It wavered, then vanished. The rebel leader's anger cooled, and he reverted to his calm voice. "Then Jack is our only hope."

A sound of an explosion was suddenly heard beyond a cluster of trees from the direction where Gha'haram had come earlier with the children.

"The lore-kin," Gha'haram said, furrowing his brows. "We must finish this now!"

" _You_ must finish this," Xharan replied. "I have pressing business back at the Library of Alexandria. Our master will be waiting for me to report. I also need to find the boy, and that is exactly where I believe Jack will be headed."

The Revenant nodded, but the scowl on his face revealed his displeasure with the situation. "Do what you must. But I will see that these troublesome lore-kin are disposed of once and for all. As for the boy, he was with Aramthaeus when we fought last night, north of the house. They came here and took what they needed and left; but I do not know what and I don't know where."

"I can suspect where." Xharan pointed at the gathered rebel Atlanteans. "You can use my men to help you in this fight. A parting gift."

"Thank you, oh generous Xharan," Gha'haram said sarcastically. "Perhaps they will want to join my people after the fight is done. The Doom Stone is still big enough for more followers!"

The Dark Tide soldiers looked at the Revenant with disdain and some with fear, but they did not say anything for they were outnumbered by the undead army.

Xharan ignored his rival's taunt and walked away, disappearing into the trees in the opposite direction of Thomas' house. Gha'haram's mocking laughter chasing after him.

Revenant swarmed towards the house. Armed with daggers, axes and crude clubs made from deadwood scavenged from the forest, they moved as an undisciplined mob. Their combat skills were poor compared to the military-trained lore-kin, and their mad hunger for flesh—to restore their decaying bodies—made them unfocused in their attacks.

Jai, Rowan and Emily met them head-on with their glaives, while Arthur fell back after he had expelled his last bomb.

"The last line of defence," he whispered to himself, finding a clear spot in front of the family van. From concealed wrist gadgets, two black chains ending in metal claws suddenly shot out of each of his coat's sleeves, which he whipped into whirling circles above his head.

He had barely released the weapons when five Revenant appeared from behind a copse of trees. Four in human form and the last a large, grey wolf. They had skirted around the fighting at the base of driveway and made a mad dash for the house.

"Come on, scumbags!" Arthur challenged the eager, twisted faces of his enemies. They looked like crazed, wild animals with their jaws open in salivating hunger. Their eyes like the Doom Stone shards in their foreheads, ablaze in red fire.

The first to reach Arthur had half a face; the rest was gone, revealing blackened bone beneath. One burning red orb glared out at him from within its sickly eye socket.

Buzzing like bees, the two spinning chains suddenly snapped over Arthur's shoulders with the flick of his wrists, like bullwhips, then forward at the same time. The metal claws at the end of each chain smashed into the Revenant's head, shattering its Doom Stone shard and caving its head in like it was a clay pot. Black bone exploded into dust, and a headless body dropped to the ground.

Laughing like a giddy school boy, Arthur swung his chains in unison at the second Revenant that leaped over the smouldering remains of its felled companion. Unfortunately for the lore-kin, the claws whizzed over its target which had crouched low. The Revenant rolled to the side, out from under the falling chains, and then sprung at Arthur like a cat.

"Oh no you don't!" he huffed, dropping onto his back. As Arthur fell, he flicked his wrists and the hidden gadgets reeled the chains back into his sleeves faster than he could blink.

There was a loud crunch as the bulging backpack hit the turf under the full force of his descending weight. Knees bent, Arthur caught the Revenant's chest on the flats of his feet and then kicked out, pushing the undead flying into the air with surprising strength. Shooting both arms out forward, the chains exploded from his sleeves again, and the claws found their target before it cleared his sight. Seconds later, another headless body fell to the ground only inches from where he lay. A shower of Doom Stone shard fragments followed; red motes glittering down like fireflies in a shaft of sunlight.

Arthur's backpack suddenly began rattle as he lay on the ground, looking like a flipped over tortoise. He could hear the last three Revenant slowly approaching his prone body, and began thrashing his arms and legs to roll over and get to his feet.

"Ha-ha-ha! Look at the fat man squirm!" One of the Revenant mocked him in a shrill voice. His laughter was cruel and piercing, and his heavy footfalls began to quicken. "Maybe I should let Wolfie here take a few bites before we drain you of your life-force!" The sound of excited, bloodthirsty barks followed as if on cue, and then the sound of a blade whipping the air. The Revenant swung a thick-bladed machete in slow circles between both hands, which came whirling into view as it leered down at Arthur, grinning with black, rotted teeth. The man had cracked skin like mud, with sparse, wispy hair and a cleft chin. "Now, lets cut up this fine morsel!"

The backpack kept shaking, which caught the attention of the Revenant. Its cruel laughter ceased and its eyes narrowed.

"What's in the bag?" Another voice growled. The second Revenant walked into view; it was a woman with long knotted brown hair and carrying two thin, curved daggers.

"Damn contraption!" Arthur cursed, ignoring the question. "Always gets jammed—ah, there, just a little..." he wiggled his body and gave the backpack a quick elbow on each side, and then "...got it!"

"I said—!" The female Revenant's demand was cut short by sudden mechanical sounds of moving parts inside the bulging bag.

Then the sounds stopped, and a tight cluster of long metal poles sprung from a coil out of the backpack, tearing off its lid and causing the Revenant to jump backwards.

"Okay, it was just warming up," Arthur laughed.

"What is warming up?" The undead man asked, his black eyes wide and his machete pointing fearfully at the lore-kin. The wolf-shaped Revenant crouched low near its companion's ankles, growling through jagged teeth. Bits of tattered clothing clung to its bloodied fur—the result of it shapeshifting from man to beast.

The poles, which had little spike tips, extended further out, and then splintered apart into six, three-jointed legs, which stabbed into the ground and dragged Arthur up to his feet and then up into the air by the bag's straps. He looked like a giant spider, with metallic legs blooming out of his back.

"Now, where were we?" He said with a dark grin and a raised brow. Rolling up his right sleeve, he revealed a gauntlet around his forearm, engraved with ancient Atlantean symbol—a glaive. Sliding it off with his free hand, he mind-shaped the silver cylinder into a square-headed mace.

Confusion turned to rage as the two human Revenants rushed him; while the wolf stayed back, barking and snapping at the metal legs from a distance.

Arthur scuttled around the charge, tripping the female over with one of the spindly legs, and smashed her head with the mace as she fell. Her Doom Stone shard was dust by the time her male companion had leaped forward to take her place. His machete clanged furiously against the metal legs, causing a couple to bow. Arthur swung his mace a few times, but kept missing. Then finally he managed to knock the blade out of the Revenant's hand, and brought the mace back with another blow to its jaw, sending it spinning backwards.

Elbowing the backpack again, the metal legs retracted together and lowered Arthur to the ground. They folded into themselves like the frame of an umbrella before lowering down into the mysterious backpack.

The Revenant lumbered forward again, slashing wildly at Arthur with its clawed hands. Its jaw hung from the left side of its face by thin black sinews of rotted flesh.

Arthur screwed up his face in disgust and swung his mace again, this time smashing the undead's Doom Stone shard and head to smithereens in a blast of black ash.

He had barely taken a breath, when the wolf-Revenant sprang for his throat. Arthur's mace swept up for a defensive block, but the full force of the wolf collided into him, throwing him to the ground, where he knocked his head against a garden bed rock. The Revenant continued to sail through the air, finally crashing through the front door of Thomas' house.

Rowan and Emily fended off a barrage of attacks from the Revenant who came at them from all sides. They had managed to secure a safe position in a copse of trees growing beside the driveway, and stood back to back, turning together to ensure they weren't exposed to attacks from behind.

The lore-kin's glaives sung with each strike against the enemy's metal; but rarely met a second parry, as the Revenant were easily dispatched. They had slain eleven of them, crushing their Doom Stone shards with their weapons, when Veil managed to weave under the couple's defences and gouge Rowan in his left shoulder with her long, black nails. Then with incredible speed, she leaped out of reach, evading his retaliative strikes. The pale-faced blonde laughed and spat ridicule at the couple from behind the safety of the oncoming Revenant horde.

"Rowan!" Emily screamed, grabbing her partner with her free arm, whilst smashing another Revenant's forehead with her glaive that had formed into a mace. "Are you okay? I'll kill her—"

"I'm okay," he said, swaying a little. Blood seeped through his leather jacket where the claw marks had torn into him. "I've felt worse."

"You both will suffer!" Veil hissed at them. "I will cut your throats and drink from the wounds!" She then giggled insanely and began to slowly lick Rowan's blood from off of her claws. "Sweet, sweet tasting..."

"I'd like to see you try that again!" Emily threatened, brushing her wild blue hair out of her face. The glaive in her hand flashed through different savage shapes before settling on her favourite: the trident. This time the diamond shaped blades were much longer, and serrated.

"Be careful," Rowan warned, "she has something that is making her move quickly. It has to be an old world artefact—"

"I don't care what she has!" Emily cut him off. She then broke from Rowan's side and charged out of the copse of trees at the lithe girl who taunted her with a coy smile. "I'll tear that blonde hair right out of her head!"

"Emily, wait!" Rowan said, chasing after her.

Two more Revenant were felled in Emily's charge before she took a wild stab at Veil. Like an agile cat, the blonde-haired waif summersaulted over the lore-kin's charge and slashed her from behind with her claws. Emily screamed and stumbled; the claw marks bright red across her back.

Rowan leaped at Veil, but his hands passed through a blur of colour as the girl ran out of his way. "She is impossible to catch!"

Another blur, then a slash across Rowan's chest. The man reeled backwards from the attack, then fell to his knees.

"Jai! Help us!" Emily cried swishing her trident about her head as if trying to swat a fly.

The shirtless lore-kin, who was some distance away near the tree-line, stood holding two Revenant in the air by their necks; his glaive had snaked around his right wrist to free up his hands. Smashing their heads together, and destroying their Doom Stone shards, Jai looked over his shoulder at Veil dancing circles around the stumbling couple. The other Revenant were staying back, watching the spectacle with sadistic glee.

Jai hurled both burning carcasses to the ground and sprinted towards his friends, knocking an airborne wolf-shaped Revenant to the ground as it attempted to maul his throat. His glaive whipped from his forearm, shattering the fallen enemy's Doom Stone shard to pieces, before curling back into place like a spring.

Rowan stood up, cradling his wounded arm. The shirt under his leather jacket was spliced open on his chest, revealing a glimmer of a metallic chest-plate beneath it. "Emily, I—watch out behind you!"

Emily spun around and stabbed her glaive at Veil who had suddenly swooped in for another strike at her. Nimbly, Veil back flipped from her charge, catching her feet in the u-bends of the trident and pushed herself away from the thrust. Unfortunately her backwards trajectory landed her in the open arms of Jai, who grabbed the Revenant tightly around the waist and pulled her towards the ground.

"I have her!" Jai shouted.

Squirming violently, Veil doubled over and began to bite her captive savagely on the forearms. Jai howled in shock and almost let her go. Growling, the gold bands glimmering brightly on his arms, he swung her around, pivoting on his heels and threw Veil like a shot-put into the air.

The girl spun head over heels, screaming all the way into the distant trees.

A loud crash of breaking branches and a puff of leaves around the spot of the canopy where Veil fell through brought a snicker from Emily.

"Nice throw," Rowan panted, grinning at his friend.

"Where is Arthur?" Jai asked, uncurling his glaive from his wrist and forming it into a two-headed axe with his mind. His eyes stayed on the remaining Revenant pack that had begun edging slowly away from the three. They had seen enough of their companions killed by the lore-kin; but the loss of Veil weakened their resolution even more.

"He was standing guard near the..." Emily huffed.

"House! Mum and Caleb!" Rowan finished her sentence with a desperate look to the broken front door. He turned from them and began sprinting up the driveway.

"What about the kids in the woods?" Emily shouted after him.

There was another loud crash from the tree line and Rowan stopped his retreat, turning to look where Emily and Jai's gazes were frozen.

A giant, black bear tore its way out of the tree-line and began to lumber towards them. Behind the gigantic beast was a horde three times the size of the first assault; men and women, some in horrible shapes of half-animals, but all with red eyes like fire. Amongst them were also shoaled figures who were much taller than the undead. They bore the silver skull and wave on their hoods and carried tridents and spears, which gleamed in the bright sun.

"Dark Tide as well," Rowan said grimly. "I see Kaelan has little trust in Gha'haram getting the job done."

"Run!" Jai shouted. "Back to the house!"

"The children!" Emily screamed.

"We will be no good to them dead!" Jai rebuked. "They will have them imprisoned somewhere beyond the trees. Now lets go!" He grabbed Emily's arm and pulled her after Rowan.

_Run!_ Rowan said with his mind to his fiancée and friend who were hot on his heels. _Gha'haram_ _won't stop until we're dead. We must make our last stand in the house!_

**CHAPTER 25: THE HOUSE OF THOMAS**

A grey haired wolf limped into the living room of the house, leaving a blood trail behind it. The Revenant's right shoulder bled profusely from the shards of wood that had wounded it after it had crashed through the front door. Its head sagged low between its shoulders, and its black claws dragged and scraped along the tiled floor, which were also misted over by its heavy, panting breath.

Caleb and Elly both yelled in horror at the sight of the creature, but the teenager quickly ushered the older woman into corner of the room, close to the study table. He stood protectively in front of her with his arms spread wide, but his face was still pale with fright. "Not one m-more s-step!" He warned, feebly. "This t-table contains a great p-power! It will rise up in anger if you touch us!"

Burning, red eyes lifted from the floor and fixed themselves on Caleb. He could feel their hatred boring into him. A red stone buried in its forehead also glowed red, like a third eye. Then the wolf's mouth seemed to tug up into a sneer that reminded him of a human being. Finally it said, "Brave words... boy. But they are as empty as that table. There is nothing... in this house... that can hurt me. Your friends... won't save you now..."

The sneer turned to laughter from the canine's horrid maw, which sounded as unnatural as its ability to talk.

"Caleb!" Elly started.

"Don't worry, Mrs Grey," Caleb said, swallowing down his fear. "I'm sure whatever it is that Rowan brought back here will wake up soon. It will protect us."

Elly grabbed Caleb's hand, squeezing it tight.

"Such touching sentiment," the wolf said, then continued to laugh, which then turned into a ragged cough. "Maybe you know where it is, boy?"

"Where what is?"

"Don't play stupid with me!" The creature suddenly began to change. Its fur seemed to fall away like an animal shedding itself, and its bones began cracking loudly as it rose up on its hind legs. The movement of the bones beneath its taut skin could be seen as large bulges here and there, stretching and rearranging inside its body. After everything had snapped into place, a human stood before the teenager and woman. Blood ran like rivulets down its right arm, dripping from its fingertips into a puddle on the floor. The man was well built, with a hard jaw and sharp nose. His brown hair hung to his shoulders and his eyes still burned red like the stone in his forehead. "What do you know about the Crown of Dreams?" he demanded.

"N-nothing," Caleb said honestly, the confusion on his face easily read by the Revenant. "I have never heard of this C-Crown..."

The wounded man seemed to accept his answer, then stood silently staring at Caleb and Elly as if deciding what to do next.

Before Caleb knew what was happening, the Revenant ran forward and shoved the teenager aside, knocking him onto the couch. He grabbed Elly and began dragging her out of the living room.

"No!" The woman screamed.

"Let her go!" Caleb shouted, climbing to his feet.

A thick fingered, black nailed hand clasped over Elly's mouth, and the Revenant held her against him tightly. "One more scream and I'll break your neck like a twig!" He hissed. "And boy, if you come anywhere near me, it will be lights out for both of y—"

There came a loud clamour at the door, and the Revenant pulled Elly to the side of the archway that joined the living room to the foyer. He raised a finger to his pursed lips in a silent gesture to Caleb not to make a noise and reveal his position.

Loud stomping feet thudded from the foyer, and Arthur appeared under the archway. His eyes wild and flicking about the room.

"Where's that damn wolf?" he demanded from a stunned looking Caleb.

"Umm... I-I..."

"Speak up boy!"

Caleb froze, his eyes wide open and his mouth open, unable to speak the words of warning he wanted to say. Scared that if he looked at the Revenant it would break Elly's neck like it had promised.

Arthur took a couple of steps forward, passing under the archway. "What's wrong with you, boy? Cat got your ton—"

The lore-kin didn't have a chance to finish his question as the Revenant pounced out of the corner of the room, sending him crashing to the floor. They rolled about on the ground for a bit, before the undead got the upper hand and pinned Arthur's wrists with his own stronger hands.

"Give up!" the Revenant said through clenched teeth. "When he comes, my master will destroy you all!"

Arthur wriggled on his back, trying to find a way to break out of the Revenant's grasp; but found it a futile effort. His backpack had been knocked off his back in the scuffle and thrown to the far side of the room. And his glaive was...

Arcing his neck, he saw the mace-shaped weapon laying at Caleb's feet. The teenager's eyes were on it, but he was completely still.

"But if you tell me where the Crown of Dreams is, I will promise you a quick death."

_Jeez this guy likes to hear himself talk._ Arthur thought, as he silently gestured to Caleb with his rolling eyes to toss him the glaive.

"Answer me, you tub of lard!" the Revenant threatened, kneeling on Arthur's right wrist so he could grab the man's hair and yank his head back to meet his gaze. "That boy won't help you. He is afraid, and so he should be. We have power beyond life. Power to consume everything. We call it... the Revenant's Touch."

Caleb watched in horror as the Revenant's hands began to glow red, like its eyes. Where it touched Arthur, the lore-kin's skin also lit up red; his left hand and face.

Arthur screamed and the Revenant laughed. He then pulled his absorbing power back, letting his victim's skin return to its normal pink hue. There were, however, superficial burn marks left behind.

"I can do this all day, and longer, if you don't answer me!"

"I don't know where the Crown is, scumbag!" Arthur spat in the Revenant's face.

The undead bared his teeth in anger as he punished Arthur with another dose of the Revenant's Touch. Elly, who cowered beside the desk, screamed in chorus with Arthur.

Something snapped inside Caleb. Seeing Arthur in pain and Elly afraid for her life, burned up all the fear in him, and the teenager marched over to the glaive. He scooped it up into his hands, feeling surprised at how incredibly light it was, then ran over to the two men on the floor.

"Hey!" Caleb shouted, winding the mace back behind his head like a baseball bat. The Revenant quickly turned to lock eyes with the teenager; but its confident smugness vanished when it saw the glaive. "Lights out!"

Rowan stepped over the broken rubble of the front door, his glaive raised above his head in a battle stance. He swayed a little from the wound Veil had given him as he entered the foyer, but Emily was quickly at his side, holding him up. Her own fatigue was wearing her down too, but she managed to keep it well hidden. "I got you," she said.

Jai appeared behind them and began picking up the pieces of the door and attempting to erect some sort of barricade.

"Mum! Caleb! Arthur!" Rowan shouted, holding onto Emily's shoulder so he wouldn't fall to the floor.

"We're in here!" Arthur's voice shot back from the living room.

"Stay put!" Rowan commanded, leaning against a small table at the base of the stairwell. "Trouble is coming! Guard mum and the boy!"

"But, I can hel—"

"Stay there, Arthur! They are defenceless! Whatever you hear, do not leave their side. We have this under control!"

"I need something heavier," Jai said, rushing past them and disappearing into the living room. A second later he was back, carrying the couch above his head as if it were as weightless as a feather pillow. His gold bands glowed bright, pouring their energy into his limbs. "There!" Wedging the couch against the open portal where the door had been, Jai braced himself up against it. "It won't be long for Gha'haram to get—!"

A sudden jolt shook the couch, and Jai almost fell forward.

Outside, a deep, bestial roar resounded, shaking the window panes and confirming their fears.

"Here!" Jai exclaimed.

Clawed hands smashed through a thin foyer window, clasping through the panes for something to grab. Emily started, then began stabbing her trident savagely at them. There were howls of pain beyond the wall, but the hands kept tearing away the shards of glass. "Rowan help me!"

Rowan mind-shaped his glaive into a curved sword and swung it down at the hands, slicing a few of them off at the wrists. However his efforts were futile as the Revenant outside were many; and by their sheer numbers they ripped out the panes and began crawling through the window, one by one.

Jai growled in exertion as the couch began to move, pushing him away from the doorway. "He's... too... strong!" The lore-kin cried, feeling his feet sliding out from under him. "My power bands... are almost..."

Like a deep roll of thunder, Gha'haram roared one last time and slammed the couch with all of his strength. Jai screamed as the barricade crushed him against the stair well.

"Jai!" Rowan shouted, hobbling away from the window towards the doorway with Emily at his side.

Gha'haram stormed into the house like a giant black shadow, and swung a thick arm at Rowan, catching him in the stomach and hurling him backwards into Emily. Both crashed to the floor, where they lay still.

Upon a silent command from the giant bear, the army outside stilled their advance and withdrew from the window they had broken.

Roaring again, the bear smashed the couch to pieces, hurling its shards away to get at Jai who was crumpled against the stair's balusters. It grabbed the barely conscious man by both arms and lifted him up before its snarling muzzle. "Your time has ended, Kratoth," Gha'haram said in guttural growl. "I know your power; for I wield it too. That is how I keep my people in check." Jai's weary eyes scanned the bear's arms and legs, searching for _vis-vereth_ bands, but found none. Then he looked upon Gha'haram's face and saw a small gold ring looping around the base of the Doom Stone shard that pierced its forehead. It was so small he would not have noticed it if he hadn't been this close to the beast. His eyes widened and his captor laughed. "Now you see it. Now you know. It covers the whole tip of the stone. I sheathed my shard in a _vis-vereth_ that was melted down in one of my forges. Of course, I had to have killed an Argadnelian Kratoth first to have it done!"

Jai howled in rage at hearing the murder of one of his people and began thrashing against the hands that held his wrists. His body flopped like a fish out of water against the balusters, but be could not get free. "I will see you burn for this!"

"Kaelan will have his war," the bear said, ignoring his threat. "Now that the old city has been secured. He will find the Crown of Dreams and will rise up from the sands of New Osiria to bring this world to its knees! And once all are driven into servitude, I will be granted my pick of the crop. I will sew the seeds of the Doom Stone and spread its black cloud across all the lands. And then... well... I suppose you can make up your own conclusions from that."

"You speak openly of treachery against your own leader," Jai said wearily. "Your Atlantean allies would love to hear that."

"They won't believe anything you say, worm!" The bear began laughing again, its eyes deep pits of fire. "Now its time you die!"

_I think not, Slave of Meztor._ A voice suddenly said in both their minds. It was Arajasta. _You and your kind have done enough damage to my friend's home for one day._

"Who... Who are you?" Gha'haram said in stunned confusion, dropping Jai to the ground and looking up to the roof as if to find the mysterious speaker. When no answer came, wrath contorted his face again and he punched a hole through the stairwell above Jai's head. "Show yourself!" he demanded, "or I kill this fool where he stands!"

Then, as if in response, the house seemed to grow darker, like an invisible presence was filling the empty air. The light bulb hanging from a chain above the foyer flickered, then exploded, raining small shards upon the already rubble-strewn floor.

I am all around you, Revenant. Everywhere and nowhere. Do not fear the empty darkness, fear me! The Giant of Ardhis! Taller than any mountain and stronger than any river current. I will crush you beneath my might!

The walls and the floor began to groan and it appeared that the roof was caving in—though it was only a trick of the mind. The balusters bowed, then blew outwards, pelting Gha'haram, causing him to shield his face and almost retreat out the doorway. Jai, however, had flattened himself against the floor and avoided the flying wooden spindles.

The Revenant Lord charged at Jai, but the railing, which had previously been supported by the balusters and was now free, flung itself at him like a serpent, coiling unnaturally around his girth. The wood splintered as it tightened its grip; however the force that possessed it was unbreakable.

_Now, it is_ your _time to die!_

Jai did not hesitate at the opportunity afforded to him; he jumped to his feet and leaped onto the suspended rail that lashed Gha'haram like a whip. Balancing across its length, he smashed his glaive—which had taken the shape of a hammer—at the Revenant's Doom Stone shard. However the blow did not even scratch its mark, and his arms vibrated violently away from it.

Gha'haram released a deafening roar and his body began to change: the fur fell away, and his bones began rearranging beneath his skin. He had resumed his human form when the Revenant outside started pouring through the door, answering their leader's cry for help.

Another blow with his glaive rebounded back and Jai almost lost his grip on the weapon. Desperately he hit again and again, but each blow threw his arms back.

"You cannot kill me so easily, fool!" Gha'haram laughed hysterically as he struggled against the invisible force that held him. "I am forever! You are nothing!"

Jai looked at Rowan and Emily and noticed them stirring where they lay. The Revenant were almost upon them when Arthur suddenly rushed out from the living room to meet the creatures, forsaking his promise. Others still were ascending the stairs to reach Jai; some human and others in animal shape. All twisted and decaying and all hungry for his flesh. He had only scant moments left.

Raising his glaive into the air, Jai mind-shaped it into a long dagger and drove it with both hands deep into Gha'haram's forehead. The Revenant Lord screamed in pain and the lore-kin almost fell from the railing into the reaching hands of the enemy below. He stabbed again and again, and cut around the edge of the Doom Stone shard, finally levering the shard out of Gha'haram like a pearl from a clam. Melting from a blade to a snake, the glaive entwined around one of Jai's forearms, allowing his free hands to grab the Doom Stone shard before it fell.

"You will all pay for this!" Gha'haram howled, thrashing about in the wooden coil which started to break apart. Whatever he tried to say next came out as a gurgling, choking sound, then a horrid scream as searing flames suddenly burst from his body, consuming him like fire eating dry wood. Ash and black bones fell through the coil of wood and crashed to the floor.

Jai back flipped off the railing as it too fell to the ground, and landed onto the stairs to meet the pale faces of Gha'haram's servants. "Your master is dead!" he shouted at them, holding the Doom Stone shard above his head. "And I have his accursed stone!" Hissing like venomous asps, they backed down the stairs, cowering from the sight of the gold-capped black stone.

Those that had swarmed into the foyer turned away from Arthur—who had slain many of them, before finding himself overwhelmed and backed up against a wall—and looked in horror at Gha'haram's scorched remains.

"Look!" one cried, "Gha'haram is dead!"

"Gha'haram is dead!" the message spread through the mob until it reached those outside the house. "Gha'haram is dead!"

"Kill them!" another cry was taken up. "Devour them all!"

Finding no desire in assisting in the Revenant's vengeance, the Dark Tide soldiers began to retreat.

"Stand your ground!" the Revenant called to them, but they would not listen. "Traitors!" they jeered as the rebels pushed their way through the crowd and made their way towards the trees.

An angry Revenant attempted to stop one of the rebels by standing in front of his way; but the armoured man hit the butt of his trident across the wretched creature's head, smashing its Doom Stone shard to dust.

"Death to the Dark Tide!" a wolf-shaped Revenant growled and snapped its jaws onto the retreating rebel's leg. Three more leaped onto him as he tried to dislodge the creature, dragging him screaming to the ground. After a brief struggle, the Revenant's Touch turned the Atlantean into ash.

Then pandemonium began.

Revenant and Dark Tide rebels turned from allies to enemies in the blink of an eye. Outside, tridents flashed brightly, striking down the undead where they stood as if they were wheat against a scythe. However the numbers were against Xharan's men and more than one rebel fell under the weight of the crowd, which devoured them through the Revenant's Touch.

Jai ran to Arthur's side, and helped both Rowan and Emily to their feet. Wearily they looked towards the door and the stairwell and found a wall of Revenant barring their escape. Red eyes full of hunger burned brightly from every pale face; hands reaching out to touch them. Wanting to absorb them into the voids, into the bottomless pits of their endless hunger.

"Give me the Eye of Gha'haram!" one of the creatures demanded, pointing its gnarled finger at the Doom Stone shard in Jai's hand. It was taller than the others and had a gaunt face with sunken cheeks. The other Revenant gathered behind it, deciding him to be the next leader. "And I will let you live."

"I don't think so, pal!" Arthur laughed confidently, taking a step forward in challenge. "You think after my friend Jai here just killed that giant bear boss of yours we're going to be scared of you? You're just skin and bones. I could take you and all your friends on with my eyes closed—"

Jai cleared his throat, getting Arthur's attention."My bands are depleted, Art. And Rowan and Emily can barely stand. I don't think we can kill all these Revenant _as well_ as the Dark Tide soldiers who are twice as big as us and are carrying glaives."

Arthur's smug smile went flat. With his eyes still on the grinning and slowly approaching Revenant, he whispered back to his friend, "Sooo... what does that mean?"

"It means... RUN!"

They were about to retreat under the archway of the living room, when the house suddenly began to shake and the furniture started to slide back and forth across the floor or rattle on the spot as if by some earthquake. Revenant scrambled out of the way as a heavy book shelf careened towards them from the living room, crushing one against a wall adjacent the stairs. Its books took flight like a swarm of bats—pages flapping wildly—which coalesced into a large levitating pile, before dropping onto the heads of the confused invaders. Several more were hit by an artillery of flying chairs, china and ornaments trailing into the foyer from the kitchen, which smashed into their heads with deadly accuracy, destroying their Doom Stone shards. Then the Revenant themselves began lifting up into the air by an invisible force, which hurled them against the walls or threw them out the broken window.

"The house is possessed!" the tall Revenant cried. He tried to run for the door, but a coffee table propelled right into his head. Dust and bones scattered under the falling ruins of the table; his Doom Stone shard shattered by the blow.

_I will crush you all!_ Arajasta boomed from all directions. _Leave this place, or share the same fate as your master!_

Like a wave rolling back into the sea, the Revenant turned and fled outside, where they crashed into their brethren who were fighting the Dark Tide rebels. The confusion and chaos spread and finally—after all the windows in the house blew outwards, raining glass onto Gha'haram's army—both groups ran en mass for the cover of the trees.

Flee! Run little insects! Run from my unquenchable wrath!

**CHAPTER 26: SWORN OATH**

"Unquenchable wrath?" Caleb asked, looking up at the ceiling. He was rubbing his elbow which had been jolted after he swung Arthur's glaive at the Revenant's head. "Couldn't you have said something like, 'unstoppable wrath'? Unquenchable sounds like you're really thirsty. Its kind of cheesy, really."

_Cheesy? I don't think I understand what you mean._ Arajasta sounded confused, but reflective.

The teenager waved his hand dismissively. "Forget it. Anyway, why did it take you so long to wake up and help us? We nearly all got killed."

I was regenerating, Caleb. My power gets expended quickly because of this prison I am in. It restricts my reach... so I must use more to do little.

"Well... whatever... just be there next time."

I was there.

"Forget it."

"We have to find them, Rowan!" Elly cried as her eldest son climbed onto his motorbike. "I can't lose them, too!"

Rowan turned back to his mother and said with a determined look, "I promise on my life, I will get them back safely."

"We're coming, too," Jai said, running over to the black Chevy. Arthur was scraping shards of glass off the hood, and kicked a Revenant's black skull down the driveway.

"Stay with mum," Rowan said sternly, kick starting his bike's engine. "There could be more of them around."

"I think they're all dead or a hundred miles from here," Arthur replied, pulling the passenger side door open, "Rowan, we're coming."

"Stop arguing, and lets go find them!" Emily shouted, rushing over to the bike and climbing behind Rowan.

"What are you doing?" Rowan asked, turning to face his partner. "You have to stay with mum and Caleb."

"I'm coming with you, Mister Stubborn," she rebuked with a sweet smile. "They are my family just as much as they are yours."

"Guys!" Rowan said loudly, addressing everyone. "I can do this alone."

"Ahem," Jai cleared his throat from the driver window of the Chevy. "Didn't I just save you from being rip to pieces by the Revenant Lord? I think that warrants me to come with you."

"Please, Rowan, please just go," Elly said, then suddenly her eyes grew wide. "They're here!" she screamed, covering her mouth to hold back sobs of relief. Elly then broke from the group and hobbled with her walking stick down the driveway with tears in her eyes.

Everyone turned to follow her gaze and saw James and Alora on the dirt road at the edge of the woods. Alora appeared to be limping, but James—who was shirtless—was holding her up.

Alora sipped at the warm mug of hot chocolate, her eyes on James as he retold the story of their escape.

"Well," he said slowly, "it took a lot of creativity on our part." He paused, listening to the silent anticipation, then continued...

James held Alora tight, allowing her to bury her tear-streaked face into his chest. "Shhh, its going to be alright."

"Watch these two," Gha'haram said to a wolf-headed Revenant who still stood as a man, gesturing at the Grey children with his eyes. "I will lead the assault on the house." The beast nodded, and the Revenant Lord wheeled away towards the tree-line, not sparing another glance. "The rest of you, follow me!"

All but the wolf-headed Revenant and—upon his command—two female Revenant stayed behind to watch the children.

Gha'haram changed into his previous bear shape and issued a great roar before leading his forces out of the cover of the trees towards the house.

"Oooh, is the wittle kiddies scarrrred?" one of the female Revenant taunted Alora, and began to cackle in the way that James imagined an evil witch would sound like.

Alora screamed as the woman loomed nearer, then shut her eyes and squeezed James tighter.

"We're not scared of an ugly hag like you," James said abruptly. He then winced, suddenly realising he might regret what he said.

Haughty laughter rumbled in the chest of the wolf-headed Revenant, which escaped its maw as a wheezing, gurgling sound. The woman—who was pretty except for the tears at the corners of her mouth which exposed more teeth than normal—stopped her own laughing and flashed a face of scorn at him. "Stupid brat!" she cursed, taking a step forward and attempting a swipe at James' head with her clawed hand. The boy ducked the blow and crawled away from her with Alora scrambling after him. "I'll cut up that soft face of yours!"

"Enough!" the wolf-headed Revenant growled, grabbing the woman by the wrist and pulling her back. "The master wants these children unharmed."

"Well tell them to keep their traps shut!" the other woman hissed, kicking a spray of dirt and leaves at James. She was uglier than the other one and most of her body had decayed away, revealing part of her ribcage and the bones in her legs. "I am half tempted to devour these little ones, regardless of the master's punishments. I haven't had a good feed in the last few days. There's only so many trees you can turn to ash before you get sick of it. Tastes hard and brittle. And animals stink! Dirty fur! Human flesh on the other hand is nice and soft..."

"You will do no such thing," the wolf-headed Revenant said, scooping up a large rock off the forest floor. He stepped towards the woman and looked down at her. His black fur bristling and his lips curled in a snarl. "You so much as touch them and I will smash this rock straight into your Doom Stone shard. That isn't a threat, its a promise, Martha. Now, you and Ashlynn keep watch, while I check how the fight is going." He turned away from them and strode in the direction that Gha'haram had gone, sparing only one glance at them.

When he was a slither of a shadow amongst the trees, Ashlynn backhanded James, sending him sprawling on his back. "That's for giving me cheek!"

Martha laughed. "Pity we can't just devour these little morsels. The master already knows that they don't know where the Crown of Dreams is. So why keep them around?" She leered one bulbous eye at Alora then sniffed. "That one isn't fit for a light snack—if anything, I'll take the boy!"

"You heard the wolf!" James shouted, rubbing his jaw where Ashlynn had hit him. "You so much as think about eating us and he'll kill you!"

"Oh," the pretty woman laughed, "really? Well, maybe we're far too hungry to care about a little threat. Have you thought about that?"

Both women burst into hysterical laughter.

James eyes flit about the clearing, searching for something to use as a weapon. Finally they fell on a fallen log twenty feet away, half covered in moss and pierced by grass and weeds. _I can swing that thing with my thoughts..._ Ignoring the women's laughter and cruel jibes, his mind began plotting. _Then smash their stones... but first... we need a distraction._

"Gnat," he whispered to his sister, "remember last year in the Rosewood Park with mum?"

"Huh?" Alora replied softly, sounding half aware of what he said, her face still buried in his chest. "Wha—oh, yes, I remember."

"What are you two talking about?" Martha demanded, stepping closer to the children.

"Remember that trick we did?"

"Answer me, boy!" the Revenant shouted, kicking more dirt at him.

Ashlynn snickered to herself, finding humour in the children's mistreatment. "They're being typical kiddies, keeping secrets from us grown ups!"

"That was autumn though, there were more leaves." Alora lifted her blue eyes up and stared at James. Then she nodded. "Okay, I will try."

The ugly woman was now standing right next to them, staring down at their huddling figures. "I said—!"

"What is that?" James suddenly shouted, pointing behind Martha and Ashlynn.

Martha started, then quickly turned around, looking in the direction he pointed. Ashlynn did likewise, her wild hair, which was full of leaves and twigs, bouncing on her shoulders as she spun.

Nothing.

Ashlynn began to cackle again and turned a sly eye on James. "He tricked us!"

"Do you take me for a fool!" Martha screamed, preparing her own backhand for the boy.

"No, wait! You didn't look properly!" he said desperately, pointing again in the same direction. "There are _things_ out there! They look like some kind horrible... forest spirits!"

"Forest spirits?" Martha echoed him, screwing her face up in disbelief. She slowly turned around and squinted her eyes in the direction again, across the empty clearing. Then her eyes widened.

There were three human-shaped figures walking towards them from the edge of the trees. They appeared to be made of swirling leaves and twigs.

"What... are... they?" Ashlynn asked her companion wearily.

"They're not servants of our master, that's for sure," Martha replied wearily.

"Maybe they've come to free the little ones?"

While their attention was diverted from him, James' eyes began to glow white. He looked down at his sister whose own glowing white eyes were hidden against his chest. She looked to be in a trance, as if her mind was elsewhere. Grinning, he turned his attention to the log. Slowly but steadily it began to tear away from the ground, snapping the weeds that anchored it. Puffs of soil popped with each gnarled root that broke from its base, then steadily the log levitated head height with the Revenant. It was right behind them.

_I can barely hold this!_ His mind exclaimed to his sister. _Hurry up!_

_I'm doing the best I can, James!_ She replied indignantly.

Across the clearing the three apparitions of swirling leaves ran towards the Revenant.

"They're coming at us!" Ashlynn shrieked.

Martha bared her teeth in a vicious snarl, and began to shape-shift into large cat-like human; while Ashlynn unsheathed a curved, sacrificial looking dagger from her belt.

"Behind you!" Alora suddenly screamed, and began squealing at a high pitch that could shatter glass.

Spinning around, both Revenant managed a brief scream of surprise before James' flying log collided into their heads. The force threw them backwards, passing through Alora's charging leaf men and onto their backs. Like an autumn wind, the leaves swirled together into a little whirlwind, losing their humanoid shapes, and then dissipated, raining down on top of the stunned Revenant. The log positioned itself directly above the women's heads and proceeded to rise up and down, crushing their Doom Stone shards. One last blow saw the old log break apart into jagged shards, which fell onto the charred remains of the Revenant.

James pulled Alora to her feet and began to run for the road he could see to the west of the clearing. It ran out of the trees towards the house, but travelled on an angle up a hill, shielded by low hedges, which skirted the battle between the lore-kin and the Revenant. He hated to retreat from a fight; but his sister's safety overran his pride and anger.

"Get back here!" a voice exploded with rage behind them. "I'll have your little hides if you don't come back!"

"The wolf man!" Alora cried, increasing her speed to keep up with James. "What will we do?"

"Just run!" James shouted, grabbing her hand and pulling her after him.

They had made it to the road, when James looked over his shoulder and saw the wolf-headed Revenant no less than fifty feet away, and gaining.

"Run 'lora!"

"I'm trying! I'm... tired! Wait!"

Leaping on all fours, the Revenant's body crunched and contorted into the shape of a wolf, which increased its speed.

Alora tripped and fell, screaming as she tumbled to the ground. Laying on her side, crying, she held her right knee, trying to stop a trickle of blood that ran from a small gash. "I... I can't go on! It hurts!"

"Its these damn rocks!" James yelled in frustration, kicking a large rock off the dirt road and stubbing his toes in the process. He bit back a curse from the pain, then threw his accusing stare at the blue-grey rock. Then an idea came to him. He turned to the wolf that was almost upon them, and blinked his eyes back to two balls of white fire. Lifting his palms up to the sky like a maestro, a series of large rocks rose up from the dusty road and levitated around him like stars around a solar system. "They said I was always good at archery at school!" Then his hands flew forward, and the the rocks sped like bullets at the wolf that lunged into the air, aiming its wide jaws for his throat.

It took three of the rocks to smash the red shard that burned in the creature's forehead to pieces. In mid-flight the wolf ignited into a ball of flames, and James leaped to the side, barely missing impact with it. The burning carcass crashed onto the road where the flames devoured its flesh, revealing black bones beneath.

Wincing, James knelt beside Alora, tore off his shirt and made a bandage for her knee...

"Well that explains why you're shirtless," Caleb said, casually. "I thought it was a macho thing." He looked at Jai who was also shirtless—his gold bands gleaming.

"Hardly," James told him, shrugging off Caleb's sarcasm. He then turned to Rowan who had hung on every word he said. "I did what had to be done. My family is all I have." His older brother nodded with an approving smile.

"Spoken like a true Grey," Emily said, handing the boy a mug of hot chocolate.

"Nothing says I'm a boy becoming a man than a mug of hot chocolate." Caleb covered his mouth. "Sorry, I don't know when to shut up."

Emily raised a brow at Caleb's comment. "I was going to pour you one too, but it seems that you have forfeited that privilege. Jai, Art, mum would you like a drink?"

Jai and Elly shook their heads politely, but Arthur raised his hand and smiled. "Yes, please."

Caleb wore a sour face and said to Arthur, "Your hot chocolate for me saving your life back there."

The rotund man chuckled and slapped Caleb on the back, which nearly sent him flying off his perch on the couch's armrest.

"That's fair," Caleb protested, thinking the man was ridiculing his offer.

"It is fair," Arthur agreed, "but worth more than that." Then he cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention. When all eyes were on him, he said, "Caleb hasn't told you how he saved my life, so I thought I'd bring it up. This lad is braver than any of the students I have taught at the Trident Academy. Even the graduates."

Caleb slapped his hands over his face, hiding his red hue. When his fingers dragged away from his mouth he said in an offhanded way, "I did what any of you would have done. It was nothing really."

"It wasn't nothing, lad, it was brave and worthy of reward." Arthur turned to Jai and there seemed to pass a brief unspoken conversation between them, which elicited nods and agreeable mumbles. Arthur then turned to Caleb with big grin on his face.

"What was that all about?" Caleb demanded, his embarrassment diminished by the mischievous expression on Arthur's face. He looked at James and Alora and read on their faces that they had heard the telepathic conversation as well. "You all heard that. What were they saying about me?"

"Sorry Caleb," Rowan finally said, coming out of his silence, "but before we go any further, I would like to know what James and Alora learned from our enemies, while in they were prisoners."

James had just pulled on a spare tee shirt that Elly had passed him, when the room's attention shifted to him. "Uh... um. Yes, we did... hear some things discussed."

"They used a device on us," Alora said, pulling away from her mother's embrace and standing up from the couch. After trying to equal her weight on both feet, she winced a little and rubbed her bandaged knee. Rowan turned his gaze to the young girl and signalled her to continue with a nod. "It was some memory or dream reading device. I can't remember much about it; but they tried to find out if we knew where this _thing_ was. The—"

"Crown of Dreams," James said ominously. "Whatever that is."

"Yes, I was getting to that," Alora continued, frowning at her older brother for interrupting. "The Crown of Dreams. But... they couldn't find it in either of our memories. I suppose dad only left that memory with Jack."

"What is this Crown of Dreams?" Elly asked. Then before an answer could be uttered, she suddenly became angry, her usually mild manner gone. "Why did we all nearly die because of this... this... Crown? What does Jack have to do with it? What memory? Rowan? Emily? You both know, and you will both explain this to us right now. The time for secrets are over. I want to know where Jack is!"

Jai and Arthur both moved forward in unison to speak, but Rowan fending them back with raised hand. "Mum, Jack is in Egypt."

"Egypt?" Her eyes were like the burning red Doom Stone shards of the Revenant. "What is he doing in Egypt? Answer me!"

"He is being protected by dad's people."

Elly did not throw another question into the ring, but kept her unspoken interrogation in her stern gaze.

"The Lemurians are keeping him safe from the rebels who want to find this ancient weapon called the Crown of Dreams."

"What does it... do?" James asked.

"It can use the power of every person's memories and thoughts in the entire world," Jai answered, "to do... almost about anything. Control storms, topple mountains, raise oceans. Even," he paused, his eyes looking up at the roof as if searching for Arajasta's unseen face, "pull celestial bodies out of the sky. Meteors and asteroids."

There was a brooding silence, and everyone in the room could feel the Azlazarani's presence. Although he slept in the Reflecting Cube, restoring his strength, part of his consciousness still lingered, alert. A feeling of sorrow and guilt permeated their thoughts, but no words were said.

"Some say, even the moon if the wearer has the daft mind too." Arthur's comment brought Caleb shivers. "And if it falls into the hands of Kaelan, I wouldn't doubt he would do just that."

"Kaelan?" Elly said, her voice still sharp as a blade. "Who is that?"

"The leader of the rebel Atlanteans," Rowan said solemnly. "A man with no desire to live side by side with modern man. If he had it his way, we would all be slaves." He then turned back to James. "What else did you learn?"

"One of the men—I think his name was Xharan—said he was going back to the Library in Egypt. Said something about having to find Jack." James folded his arms across his chest. "We can't let them take him."

"We won't," Rowan reassured the boy, then lowered his eyes in deep thought. Finally he said, "Jai has killed Gha'haram and now there will be some turmoil among Kaelan's forces here. I believe the Revenant will be done with their hunt for Jack, done with the Dark Tide. They will be too busy fighting over their leadership—Veil being the strongest contender—and ownership of the Doom Stone, wherever that may be."

"I'm sure without this," Jai said, holding up Gha'haram's Doom Stone shard and startling his audience, "Veil or any other Revenant will find it hard to keep their brethren in check."

James looked curiously at the black crystalline shard which shimmered from an internal source. Its lower half, which Jai held between his thumb and index finger, was pure gold. Or what looked to be gold—forming a protective sheath. Along the edge where the gold ended, the black stone seemed to be glowing there the most. Small wisps of what looked like steam or smoke rolled endlessly over the edge of the sheath, trying to reach Jai's fingers, but dissolving into nothing under the stronger radiance of the gold.

" _Vis-vereth_ ," Arthur told him, noticing the boy's intense, almost hypnotic stare. "A metal that has not been made on Earth since the days of the Three Empires. It gives Argadnellian Kratoth their strength. Only the High Alchemists of Argadnel, the Sorrorani or Mir know its composition and how it works."

Jai snatched the stone away, concealing it back in a leather pouch with a draw string where he kept it safe. "We were giving it as a gift during the days before Lemuria by the Mir." His face was proud and distant. "Now its lore is forgotten, even from the last of my people. The bands I wear were given to me by my father. This Doom Stone shard encased in a melted _vis-vereth_ is a curious thing, I don't know how Gha'haram did such a thing. However the shard is negated and empowered at the same time."

"Can it still... hurt someone?" James asked, withdrawing a hand he had suddenly realised was outstretched and reaching. "I mean, if it was—"

"Stabbed into your noggin?" Arthur interjected, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

"Y-yes," James stuttered and lowered his eye, feeling ashamed he had asked.

"Yes it can," Jai answered. "It can hurt anyone foolish enough to try such a thing. They will instantly become a Revenant—of greater power, but cursed nonetheless—and will need the life-force of living things to endure their deathless existence. However I do not know to what extent. The _vis-vereth_ has some strange effect on the Doom Stone shard it seems. The cursed one appears to gain twice or three times the strength as a regular Revenant. So whether their hunger is less or greater... I cannot say. But be careful, James. The Doom Stone will sing to the curious; thus why you found yourself reaching for it. It can do terrible things."

James said no more.

Rowan began pacing the floor, his thoughts weighing his head down. "What did you learn, Jai?"

Jai passed the leather pouch to Arthur who stuffed it into his backpack. "Gha'haram said that Kaelan will have his war now that the old city has been secured. It sounded to me like he meant sooner than later."

"Then the Library of Alexandria is in danger," Arthur exclaimed, jumping to his feet and slinging his backpack over his wide shoulders. "There's no point in waiting here!"

"Wait," Rowan commanded with an staying hand. "We can't rush to Egypt just yet without learning all the facts first."

"The facts are that our family and friends are in danger!" Emily protested, standing next to Arthur. "And we can't just wait here debating when or where!"

"I agree," Elly said firmly. "If Jack is in danger, Rowan, it is your duty to save him. You said you had sworn your life to his!"

"I did," the dark haired man said firmly, not losing his cool. "And I will. But we need to... I have it!" He turned to Jai. "What happened at Zerzura?"

There was a pause, then Jai's confused expression changed to understanding, his eyes wide. "Zerzura, or the "old city" as it has been called, was occupied by djinn tribes. When the Lemurians came a battle ensued and our armies won, driving them out. During its restoration, the djinn came again and attacked in full force, so Oreus sent most of the Library's army—from the advice of one of his sons—to take it back. They won, and now the city is under full development. However, the army did not return to the Library. And... Kaelan knows this! He must be preparing an attack!"

Rowan nodded. "Now we have what we need to warn Alexandria."

Elly, James and Alora looked confused by everything Jai and Rowan had just said, but they understood that where Jack was he was in serious danger.

"When do we go?" There was determination in James voice.

"I'm afraid you, mum and Alora won't be going," Rowan told him.

Before James could protest, Jai added, "You will be going to Paradise, as originally agreed. There you will attend the Trident Academy and learn to use the full extent of your powers."

"We're moving to Paradise?" Alora asked her mother excitedly. "Oh yes, please!"

"I will personally see that your education is continued as well, of course." Jai smiled, his jovial persona returning. "And Caleb, we would like to offer you a place in the Academy as well, as a lore-kin in training."

Caleb's jaw dropped. Alora giggled and pushed his gaping mouth closed. "You mean, I will get to speak with my thoughts?" he finally said. "And use one of those cool swords?"

"Eventually," Jai laughed.

James rolled his eyes and Elly broke her dark mood with a light chuckle.

"Well," Caleb said, brushing his sandy blonde hair out of his face, "if chicks dig that sort of thing, which I think they do, then I'm down."

James shook his head, his serious face restraining any hint of amusement he felt.

Arthur shook his head, but his broad grin didn't waver. "This will be interesting, Jai. Good luck."

"Oh, no," his companion said, "Caleb will be your little project. He _saved_ you remember?"

"Why are you fighting over me?" The teenager tried to conceal a proud smile. "I mean, I know I'm probably the coolest kid you've ever offered this too, but it doesn't mean I won't take it seriously."

Everyone laughed.

"So is that a yes?" Jai asked.

"Its a hell yeah!" Caleb shouted, then pulled a goofy grin as Rowan ruffled the teenager's hair.

The sun sunk low behind the western horizon like a melting egg yoke; however its warmth still hung in the air, stifling what little breeze that blew through the trees of the forest. Autumn was a mere whisper in that breeze, and its invisible fingers had already begun plucking off the leaves from the branches and sprinkling them on the ground.

Kneeling in a small, walled courtyard adjacent Thomas' house, under the gaze of a silent, vine-covered statue of a man holding a broken spear, Caleb found himself kneeling before Rowan. Standing shoulders abreast behind the lore-kin was Emily, Jai and Arthur. All three stood still like statues themselves, their glaives stabbed in the ground before them with both hands atop the hilt in an Atlantean ceremonial gesture.

_These cobble stones are killing my knees,_ the teenager thought, grimacing.

_Do you want a pillow, Caleb?_ Alora's voice pipped in. The girl, James and Elly stood under an apple tree some distance away, watching from the shadows.

Huh? What? I thought I have to learn how to speak with my thoughts. How come I can hear you?

_Its all our minds in harmony with Gaia._ This time it was Rowan who spoke. _You are being welcomed into the fold of our thoughts. However, once we break this connection, the voices will be silent. So for now, let us use this time to speak of the Oath._

_What is... the Oath?_ Caleb felt skittish. However he did not let the butterflies in his stomach overwhelm him; he hated commitment usually, but this time he felt it was right.

It is what all lore-kin must adhere to. Friends of the Library. Friends of the Lore Keepers, our ancient ancestors

Caleb did not speak; for once he managed to silent his busy thoughts and listen.

_We gather at the House of Thomas for this Oath, this promise to be uttered and forged in stone._ Rowan closed his eyes, before continuing. _Caleb Denison, do you swear your life to Atlantis, to the High Throne of Lemuria? Do you promise to live courageously and virtuously as not only a guardian protector of the Grey family, who your life is now bound to, but also as a person who will now be counted among the Emperor's people?_

Caleb swallowed hard and shook out the nerves that tingled down his arms. He hadn't expected to find himself in this situation: kneeling before Jack's brother and swearing an oath of allegiance to a mysterious empire that had been destroyed thousands and thousands of years ago. If he was told any of this a week ago, told that he would fight undead creatures that could absorb the life-force of living things, told that he would converse with an invisible entity that might as well be called a poltergeist, he would have laughed and perhaps given ridicule in his usual charismatic way. But now he believed it all. He lived through it, and without a doubt found himself excited—and scared—by it all. Jack and him had been through some tough and exciting times together, but this would top them all. Now his friend was in trouble and he had to help in anyway he could.

_I do_. He said.

Now rise, and choose the glaive that speaks to you.

Before him was a large woven basket with three silver swords inside, poking hilt first out the top. He knew what they were. Glaives. They had been rescued from the Grey's house by Rowan, who said he found them under a tree. Now one of them would be his.

Not far away, more glaives lay in a tied bundle on a stone bench; they had been collected from the Dark Tide rebels who had died when the Revenant had turned on them. They looked more plain than the three in the basket, which bore curved cross-guards and pommels that looked like the four pointed star. They were Order Knight glaives, which were bigger than the other ones, and had more capabilities, which Rowan had mentioned but not elaborated on.

Caleb swallowed again and reached for a hilt...

Holding the weapon was like holding a cardboard sword. It was light and effortless to swing. After making a figure eight on its side in the air before him, he held the blade perfectly still in front of his face. Both hands clasped the silver handle tightly, his eyes admiring the shimmer of afternoon light against the blade's length. Then it occurred to him, the whole weapon was made of the same material; there was no crease or joint separating it into blade, guard and handle.

Glaive... so... mysterious.

Then he remembered what Arthur had told him before they gathered in the courtyard. He remembered what he had to do. Smiling softly, he closed his eyes and projected a thought. Imagined the blade to melt like the sun had behind the trees. When he opened his eyes, he released a slight gasp of surprise. The blade of the glaive was melting down to the guard like a drooping candle. He laughed, then thought of the blade shooting up into the air into its original rigid pinnacle. And so it did. Then he imagined the blade exploding into a fan of porcupine-like quills. When the blade mirrored his thoughts, the teenager swung the blade above his head, bringing it back to its true form again.

_Caleb Denison._ Rowan pulled him back to earth. However the man was smiling now and so were the other lore-kin behind him. He could see the Grey family had stepped out from under the tree and were watching his antics in awe. This reminded him when they use to watch him do his skateboard stunts with Jack back in the day. That thought brought a lump in his throat. _Do you swear by the Oath to use this weapon, this glaive to defend the lives of James, Alora and Eleanor Grey until death take you. To use it wisely and only for the purpose that it was made: to battle tyranny and uphold the Law of Lemuria?_

Smiling, Caleb winked and threw the glaive up into the air. It spun in two circles before landing into his hand in the new shape of a trident. The three pronged spear. The weapon he saw Emily wield. That he saw the Dark Tide carry. The symbol of Atlantis.

I do.
**CHAPTER 27: SUN GARDEN**

The tremendous crash preceded a giant shock wave that rumbled through the ground and walls of the Chamber of Lore. It shook Layla and rattled the teeth in her head. This could only mean one thing: someone was using the Rings in the Training Hall.

"He has already taken to Thomas's memories like a fish to water," Eleena said, following after Layla, "I think that's how the saying goes."

"Using the Rings isn't exploring Thomas' vast abilities," Layla replied, hastening to the doors to the Hall. She waited for another loud crash to finish its ringing, before turning to the other girl with a look of disgust. "Its just plain annoying."

The double doors to the Hall of Training flew open and Layla and Eleena entered. Both were dressed in the clothing of their ancient culture: pale blue and deep green flowing garbs that looked like dresses but with billowy pant legs, all styled with oceanic patterns of fine detail.

In the center of the vast hall stood a haphazardly stacked pile of three large metallic rings. The biggest was almost thirty feet wide, and the other two were smaller so they could fit—Babushka doll style—inside each other. Beside the pile was the last piece: a cylinder of metal engraved with the Atlantean symbol of strength. Jack stood at the northern end of the hall; his body still and his eyes ablaze with white-fire.

"The idea is to fit the pieces neatly inside each other," Layla said irritably, storming over to Jack, "without making such a racket!"

"Lower them down gently, Jack," Eleena said, trying to be helpful.

"He can't hear us," Layla said, throwing up her hands. "The Son of Toram is using all of his psychic power to levitate the rings, and has disconnected from the realm of the living. It seems like the Gaianar armour only triggered his fighting prowess, and neglected common sense."

"Don't be too hard on him," Eleena replied, watching as Jack's mind had already grabbed the centre piece and was holding it precariously above the pile of non-fitted rings. "I mean, I understand that spreading one's consciousness whilst using telekinesis should be mastered before the age of eight; but we are dealing with a late bloomer here. Did I get that right, is the term: late bloomer? Or late leaner? Late starter?"

"You got it right the first time," Layla said, her temper restrained with an even voice and furrowed brow. She was like a bubbling stew that was somewhat contained by the pot's lid. "Regardless of that fact, I wanted to have a nice relaxing evening with Jack in the Sun Garden before we leave tomorrow. I wanted to enlighten him with Lemurian lore."

Jack's eyes dispelled the white-fire and he turned to Layla, suddenly sensing her presence. "Lemurian what?"

His tender grasp on the metal cylinder disappeared, and it came crashing down. The center piece hit the smallest ring on an angle, emitting an ear-splitting sound and causing it and the one slightly bigger below to fly several feet up before falling perfectly down inside each other.

Layla's jaw dropped.

"Comical luck if ever I saw it," Eleena laughed.

The half-Atlantean strolled over to the two young women and smiled sheepishly. "I think I'm getting the hang of it."

Layla refrained from voicing her frustration and vitriol with gritted teeth. Finally, she managed to say calmly, "I came here to properly introduce you to my friend, Umni Isaleph. Her modern name is Eleena."

"Oreus' daughter," Jack said, holding out a hand to the pretty, young woman with blue eyes and black hair. The gloam dust on her skin gave her an ethereal glow. "I apologise for not speaking with you and your brother earlier. Mathias has got me camped in the Training Hall since this morning. I had to return the Gaianar armour to the armoury; he wants me to strengthen my mind and... body."

His last comment was accompanied with a nod towards an assortment of Atlantean body weights laying in the northern corner of the hall. There were a series of small metallic rings, and organically, shaped metal plates with holes for hands to grasp.

"Not like the traditional dumbbells I use back home, but easy enough to get a handle of."

"Dumbbells?" Eleena raised an eyebrow. "Strange word."

"Well, now you have both met, and formalities sated, I ask for some time with the half-Atlantean," Layla said to her friend with the side-glance of her eyes, indicating for her to leave.

"But we've just met," Jack said, watching Eleena hurry out of the training room.

"Nice meeting you, Son of Thomas," Eleena said, disappearing through the double doors, and pulling them close behind her.

"I didn't offend her, did I?"

"No," Layla replied, "she's got other things to tend too. A young Osirian prince is still recovering from a few well placed punches and kicks, courtesy of you."

Jack's confused face changed to one of bashful pride. "You're just teasing."

"I do not tease, Jack." Her eyes were serious.

"You're saying I seriously hurt Ramose? We sparred again, and he beat me... again!"

"You may not have won, but you did trade a few good blows without your weapons."

"Yes!" Jack said, raising his hand for a high-five. When Layla didn't slap his hand, he used the hand to stroke his hair back.

"I know what a _high five_ is," Layla said, unimpressed. "I have read up a lot on your culture. I just don't think your adversary's bruised ribs is cause for excitement."

"Give me time," Jack said, feeling a strange new confidence radiating from him. "The third match, I will make that djinn know who is boss."

Layla shook her head, covering her face with one hand. "Just remember, Ramose knocked you out cold the first time. You have a long way to go before that day will come. If it comes."

"You're right," Jack said, dropping his head, his enthusiasm extinguished by the reality of her words. "I have a lot to learn."

Silence followed, before Layla lifted his chin up with a finger. When their eyes met he saw the harshness and judgment gone; replaced with kindness and regret. "I'm sorry for saying that. You did well. Now let's get out of here, okay?"

"Okay," Jack said, and a smile slowly crept back onto his face.

It took fifteen minutes by skyjammer to reach the mighty Sun Garden at the centre of The Library.

Jack and Layla sat on a small hill under a gloam tree; the soft, golden light from its leaves and bark illuminated the natural darkness of the cavern about them, and filled the air with an aroma that Jack could only describe as the ocean.

Lamp-grass—another plant-life that Layla's people had brought from the past—blanketed the park's floor. The transparent, luminous grass, which channeled psychic power to a far lesser degree, swayed rhythmically from side to side, moving with the mood and thoughts of the people passing through it.

In the centre of the park there was a large clearing, where a circular, metallic plate a hundred feet wide rose up out of the lamp-grass. Its surface was silver in hue and its edge was patterned like a zodiac with ten symbols for the ten Great Nations of Lemuria. The symbol for Atlantis—three circles overlapping each other within a diamond shape—sat in the middle of the plate.

"Lemuria is a vast empire," Layla said to Jack, hovering a hand over the lamp-grass. The luminous blades changed to a light, electric blue, and followed the movement of her hand. "It is made up of—"

"Ten lands," Jack interrupted with a cheeky grin, "and the capital is situated on the Isle of Atlantis. Mathias told me."

Layla was annoyed rather than surprised by Jack's sudden outburst of knowledge about her homeland, but she simply nodded, not wanting to be the impatient know-it-all.

"Yes," she said slowly, "you are correct. Ten mighty kingdoms make up the Empire of Lemuria. We were once all separate for hundreds of years, until the coming of the House of Athesphar of Atlantis. That house brought about the unity needed to push back the Osirian and Rama invaders. It created a new balance where none previously existed. Lemuria became the weight in the centre of the arms of the scale. The Third Law."

Jack sidled around the girth of the gloam so he was sitting closer to her. Layla's enticing scent, which overpowered the gloam's, filled his nostrils—it was a soft, sweet, spicy Atlantean perfume known as ashur'sah, which was made from the deep blue ashur flower he had heard Mathias speak of. The girl's dark brown hair stirred gently in subterranean breeze, occasionally sending stray strands to tickle against Jack's bare arms. His hand lay inches away from Layla's. The lamp-grass dancing between his fingers.

"You smell pretty," Jack said, closing his eyes and letting the ashur'sah heavy breeze saturate his senses. He then realized what he said and his eyes shot open. "I mean, you smell different."

"I'm back in civilization," Layla answered, not reacting awkwardly to his comment, "back in the capital. I'm expected to smell nice, I suppose."

"Yes, yes, of course," Jack said, trying not to sound awkward himself. He couldn't let his emotions slip like that again. In a more neutral voice he said, "Tell me of your homeland. Tell me about your family."

"Family," Layla said the word wistfully. "What do you want to know?" She turned and faced him, her skin seemed softer and radiant somehow. The warmth of gloam's golden light perhaps.

"Everything," Jack replied, catching her eyes. "Who is your father and mother? What did they do back in Atlantis? Did they approve of you joining the military?"

"There is a lot of detail in the required answer," Layla replied, smiling. "So if you are willing to spend some time with me here, I will tell you everything you want to know."

"I'm all ears," Jack said.

"I never understood that saying," Layla said, shaking her head. "I just imagine someone covered in ears. It is quite repulsive really."

"Yeah that would be a terrible sight," Jack laughed back.

The young woman crawled closer to him and suddenly grabbed his hand tightly. It was warm and her skin was as soft as silk. Her arm pressed against his, and she leaned her head on his shoulder.

"I suppose I have always wanted to know what your relationship with Will is?" Jack finally felt the confidence to ask. "Is he—"

"He is a distant cousin," Layla answered, looking up into Jack's eyes. "Did you think we were something else?"

"Well, um, I wasn't quite sure to tell you the truth. You seemed rather close."

"We have been close ever since we were children."

Jack's sigh of relief gave away the internal turmoil he had been feeling for days, and Layla giggled, then stroked his cheek reassuringly. "Oh, dear. You thought we were together?"

"Possibly."

"Eew!" Layla scrunched up her face, then burst into laughter. "No, no, no, definitely not."

"I'm glad," Jack managed to say with an amused smile. He had never seen the serious young woman laugh before.

"Will and I share a special bond," Layla continued, "which not many of our kin know. I use to fear anyone knowing, without the consent of Mathias, but now... well, our world is no more, and the political structures no longer prevent me from speaking the truth."

"What is the truth?" Jack asked, his curiosity growing.

Layla turned away for a moment, then looked back at him. He saw she was still a little scared of the topic, even though she said there was no repercussions in Jack's time period.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Jack said softly, "or can't."

"No, its alright. You see, long ago when I was a little girl I could have been killed—along with Will—if I was caught saying any of this. It is different now.

"Will and I are alurai, which means "secret ones", and we are the true heirs of Atlantis and Hy-Bresail."

"You are what?" Jack exclaimed, squeezing Layla's hand a little tighter in surprise.

The girl waited for Jack's grip to slacken before she continued. "Sometimes, when the lands of Lemuria were involved in their terrible wars against each other or against Osiria or Rama, the royal families would take special precautions in ensuring their blood lines lived on should there be any assassinations. This was where the alurai came in. The queen of each land would oftentimes give her second or third child to a Warder, a man of the court, who would secret it away to an unknowing peasant family to raise as their own. Should any assassination threaten to destroy that royal family, the Warder would go back to the peasant custodians and restore the child to the thrown."

"So, that would make you the daughter of the last king and queen of Atlantis?" Jack asked, eyes wide.

"Yes," Layla said, "my blood parents were King Amnaeus and Queen Seyd-Isuli Athesphar of Atlantis. However, the people who raised me my whole life were Kaetar and Semna Naraphaeus. They will always be my _true_ parents."

"What about siblings?" Jack asked, seeking more ancestral history from her to sate his own curiosity.

"I had three brothers and one sister. Sadly, they all died during the Fall. Izsulaen was the oldest and was the next in line to the thrown of Atlantis, and heir to all of Lemuria. She died protecting our brothers Rhan, Arlos and Phaed from Rama soldiers. They all died."

Layla seemed to choke up on the last words she uttered, and melancholy descended on her like a shadow. Sensing her mood change, Jack pulled her close into a strong embrace, allowing her face to bury in the crook of his neck. Stroking her long, wavy hair, he felt a well of warm tears trickle down his shoulder and chest.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know. I shouldn't have asked—"

"No," Layla quickly said, breaking away from his arms and casting her gaze somewhere amongst the trees. "It was an innocent question. I know Izsulaen would have been a great empress." Jack wondered whether she felt ashamed of him seeing her emotions, whether she considered her tears a weakness. His hand never left hers.

"You said Will is alurai as well?" Jack asked, trying to steer the conversation away from Layla's brothers.

"Will's true name is Wilath," Layla answered, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. "He is the son of Torloth Khaa'telion, the last king of Hy-Bresail. He was only made an alurai on request of Mathias."

"Mathias," Jack echoed the name of the Atlantean general. "Was he the Warder you spoke of?"

"Yes. Mathias felt danger would soon befall Lemuria, so he convinced Torloth to give his son over to a nameless widow. It was Mathias' plan to protect the bloodlines of Athesphar and Khaa'telion, for they run from the same vein. Both nations are blood-bound to the same forefathers, so we have always worked together. Sharing wealth, culture and arms.

"The Gaianar was my Warder. Mathias took me from Seyd-Isuli, my blood mother, at a time when Atlantis was prosperous. Seyd-Isuli was very sad to see me go, for I was her youngest daughter. I don't hold any resentment or blame against her. We healed that Breaking—a moment when the child is given to the Warder. Before we came here, we shared a brief time together and became friends.

"Well that was long ago." She broke away from the reverie, her voice regaining its firmness. "I do not let such things linger in my thoughts for they can only bring unneeded distractions."

Jack noticed that Layla was staring at him again. Her tears and vulnerability were gone; the emotionally resolute warrior had returned.

"I see we both share something in common then," he finally said.

"And what's that?"

"We were close to our mothers but didn't have time to know our fathers. Thomas was always away—probably fighting to keep us safe—and yours was the distant ruler of an empire."

"Our fathers also share something in common," Layla said, drawing a confused look from Jack. "Thomas was in love with Queen Seyd-Isuli."

Silence.

"My father was in love your mother?" Jack finally managed to say, sounding shocked and incredulous at the same time. "I-I don't believe it!"

"It is true."

"Why didn't you tell me this until now?"

Layla hid her amusement at the situation with a stern face. "You never asked."

Jack didn't know what to say. The idea that his father was in love with someone other than his mother—Layla's mother of all people—hurt him just a little. However, it also seemed quite poetic that he had fallen for the queen's daughter.

"He loved her very much," Layla said, and the look on her face, and the smile she gave him abated his conflicted thoughts. "And she loved him."

Spontaneously, Jack pulled Layla against his body and kissed her soft lips, which parted in a short gasp of surprise. Slowly, the kiss became more passionate, and her arms snaked around his neck.

_Caleb, I did it!_ Jack found himself thinking after the euphoric adrenaline rush flooded through his body. _I kissed a girl!_

_Who is Caleb?_ Layla was hearing his thoughts loud and clear. _Was this a dare? A bet?!_

Oh... um... Caleb is my best friend—!

Layla pulled away from the kiss, and pushed Jack backwards with both hands, causing him to lose balance, and his hands to slide out from under him. Gripping the lamp-grass desperately, he tried to stop himself from tumbling down the hill. Unfortunately, the momentum was too fast, and the grass tore out of the soft ground in Jack's hands. A series of bright sparks crackled against his fingers, delivering a sharp pain, as he fell unceremoniously in a heap at the bottom of the hill. This was the grass' defence mechanism against its uprooting, and it worked well.

"Ouch!" Jack cried, leaping up to his feet and shaking his wounded hands vigorously. "It felt like the grass bit me!"

The blades near the patch he had ripped out flickered and then their luminous lights died out.

Layla watched Jack dancing around in pain with amusement. She giggled, then—unable to restrain herself—burst into loud bouts of laughter.

Jack stopped his dramatic display and started to laugh as well.

"I see the Desert Flower has learned the valuable lesson of leaving lamp-grass alone to avoid their nasty sting," Cloak said mockingly, stepping out from behind a gloam and surprising the couple. He was now dressed in his Samatar clothes of a black leather tunic and pants with a black velvet cloak with silver trimming. On his vest was red-stitched symbols of a secret language only his people could read. "Let us hope that you are respectful towards the more dangerous plant life when we... go back."

"What do you want, Cloak?" Layla asked, the humour in her face gone.

"Mathias wants you both back at the Chamber of Lore." After passing on the message in a firm tone that left no room for debate, he wheeled away, walking to his skyjammer behind the gloams, the swish of his cloak obscuring his exit.

Jack was about to say something, but Layla pushed a finger against his lips. "Don't tell anyone about that kiss. It was... a mistake."

The teenager's heart sunk.

"I let my guard slip, it won't happen again. I am a warrior of Atlantis first." She then walked towards their own skyjammer. After a brief pause, she said over her shoulder to him, "You were my first kiss by the way. It was... nice. But.."

"But?" Jack asked, his hope slowly rising again like his pulse.

"But I can't promise you anything. Not now, anyway." Layla suddenly winked, then briskly walked away.

Jack smiled, running after her. _Later, perhaps._ He thought, not fearing if she heard him.

**CHAPTER 28: A PLOT UNRAVELS**

Keeping stride with Layla, Jack said, "If you are in fact the heir of Lemuria, why haven't you taken up leadership of the Library?" His words were hushed and his eyes were on Cloak's back—the Nysaean was out of earshot. "I think you would do a far better job than Oreus or his warmongering son, Rykar."

"Don't you let Rykar hear you say that," she replied with a smirk, "he hates to be challenged."

Cloak climbed aboard his own obsidian skyjammer that hovered near the one Jack and Layla had brought and placed the silver circlet onto his head. He looked back at the straggling couple and waved them on impatiently.

"As for your first question," Layla said, quickening her pace, "I couldn't think of anything worse. I was raised a soldier by my father. Any ounce of royal blood in me was left in the delivery room when I was born. Kings and queens were reason my people's homes and lives were destroyed. I curse the rulers of all the lands for their petty squabbles for power. If Lemuria had been under marshal law, under Mathias' command, I doubt we would have lost our world."

Jack nodded but said no more. He understood the reason for Layla's bitterness and frustration towards the old rulers who had unwittingly destroyed their world through their own greed for power. Yet part of him envied her lineage. Jack had lived a life of borderline poverty, struggling from week to week to pay the rent; so he had never tasted the spoils of affluence and privilege. Neither had Layla for that matter—but she could if she wanted to, he reasoned.

They climbed aboard the skyjammer and were soon on the road trailing Cloak towards the Chamber of Lore.

"How did you sleep last night?" Layla asked Jack, not moving her eyes from the road. The silver circlet on her head shimmered in response to the diamond rotating in the middle of the skyjammer. Cloak's own skyjammer was some distance away, giving the couple their privacy. "The Training Hall was the last place I expected Mathias to send you."

"Well," Jack said, "I did manage to sleep most of the night in the sleeping quarters with Will. Then around five o'clock, Mathias woke me up and ushered me down into the Training Hall to do some early morning warm ups."

Layla smirked. "Was that too early for you, princess?"

"Hey!" Jack laughed, nudging her teasingly with an elbow. "You're the princess here!"

"Keep that to yourself," she said abruptly with a stern look that silenced his laughter.

Jack mirrored her serious expression, then looked about to see if anyone heard. "Sorry, I didn't—"

"Only joking!" She winked, elbowing him back.

"Ha!" he laughed, sticking his tongue out.

"Anyway, go on."

"Then weights—those metallic discs are strange, but they really gave me a run for my money. Then a light spar with Mathias; but he suddenly vanished without saying a word."

"Typical," Layla said, rolling her eyes.

"He does do that a lot doesn't he?"

"Always trying to keep an eye on all things."

"Why is that?" Jack asked.

"Because Mathias is the General of the Keepers. He is the Guardian of the High Seat, Last of the Gaianar, and the Warder of Will and I. So many titles and so many responsibilities. He is—was also your father's best friend. So right now you are his main priority."

Jack swallowed hard, digesting that thought very carefully. He remembered the importance of the memory in his head that they hadn't pried out yet. The location of the Crown of Dreams.

The sound of the wind rushing against his hair and clothes were not strong enough to drown out that heavy thought.

"Hey, snap out of it!" Layla yelled, tapping his foot with her own. "You're stressing about the task, I can see it in your eyes and hear it in your thoughts."

"It's hard you know," Jack mumbled against the wind, "I am only starting to gauge its scope."

"Gauge this!" Layla said, suddenly placing the silver circlet upon Jack's head. She was that fast he didn't even see her take it off her own head. The skyjammer stalled a bit and began to descend to the ground like a stone—the diamond spinning out of control like a compass arrow gone haywire. Then suddenly the metallic disc jolted upright at the last minute as the surprised teenager's thoughts reigned it back in. The skyjammer then came to a complete stop, hovering stationary above the road. "Your turn to steer," Layla said mischievously to Jack.

He was about to protest; but thought against it. "The glum, responsible sort who doesn't take risks will always lose the girl," was what Caleb had once told him. Jack smiled cheekily and winked. Channeling his friend, he said, "I'm sure there's a memory of dad flying one of these things somewhere in the back of my noggin. Let's see if I can use it!"

The skyjammer began to move forward, the diamond coming out of its chaotic rotation, steadying itself into a vertical spin. Jack grinned and pushed his thoughts through the circlet like a large exhale of air, giving the skyjammer a sudden surge of propulsion. Like Rowan's motorbike at full throttle, it took off along the road at an incredible speed. The passing buildings on either side of them quickly became a blurred haze of colours and lights.

_Thomas loved skyjammers!_ _He taught me how to fly them!_ Layla spoke in Jack's head with the excitement of rebellious youth. This was a wild side of her that he had not seen. Perhaps their passion under the gloam had ignited it. _I'm sure you'll pick it up!_

_It feels familiar, already._ Jack replied. _Like my thoughts are are in sync with the metal. I can even control the speed by pulling my thoughts back like the reigns of a horse. It is hard to explain in words._

You're thinking too much! Just keep your attention on the road and look out for—Cloak!

Before Jack knew it his skyjammer was seconds away from rear-ending Cloak. It was as if he had appeared out of nowhere. Focusing his thoughts on the obstacle, he threw his skyjammer hard to the left so both Layla and him were briefly standing horizontal. The momentum and the feet grooves in the metallic disc kept them both from flying off. A heartbeat later they were flat again, leaving a red-faced Cloak behind.

_Foolish recklessness!_ The Nysaean's thoughts boomed after them. _Just like your father!_

_See you at the Chamber of Lore!_ Layla shot back slyly, relishing his look of frustration. Her expression quickly changed to confusion however, when she saw Cloak's face—which was becoming smaller and smaller the further they distanced themselves—suddenly reveal a devious grin. Whipping her head back to the road in front, Layla saw a procession of Atlantean men on slow moving skyjammers up ahead. _Jack! Look out!_

Jack careened through the middle of them, dodging and weaving between the skyjammers with surprising skill and a little luck. Cries of shock and anger rose up from the men who wore orange robes and carried tall wooden staffs crested with bright coloured feathers. They shook their fists and cursed him in their language; and for some reason he understood what they said.

"Clumsy ox!"

"Curse you!"

Reaching the head of the procession, Jack barely missed crashing into a skyjammer driven by a tall, distinguishable looking man with a solemn face.

"Watch it fool!" He thundered, sweeping his staff to knock Jack off as they flew by. Jack's skyjammer veered to the far right of the road and the blow hit midair.

_I understood what they said!_ Jack's mind exclaimed in surprise and excitement, ignoring the fact that he was almost knocked over. _Why is that?_

_The armour must have awoken some part of your mind._ Layla answered quickly. _But I would be more concerned with with your driving skills at the moment. You almost hit the members of the Weaver guild!_

The what?

The Weaver guild! They trade goods between the Library and your world—watch it!

Coming in the opposite direction was a khepri-ark: a large hovering vehicle that looked like a giant beetle but with the bulk of a freight train. The heavy plated behemoth was made of dark metal and was covered in spinning diamonds, like the one used by their skyjammer, which gave off a ringing sound as it traveled. Osirian symbols were etched in its surface, which were detailed with silver and gold paint. Layla gasped loudly, and Jack managed to pull the skyjammer up at a sharp angle, just in time to avoid being smashed to pieces. He levelled out on top of the big vehicle and hovered along it, before dropping off its end and landing roughly back on the road. The force of the drop almost threw them off the skyjammer.

Ahead the road was clear. Jack laughed somewhat nervously, his adrenaline still pumping fast through is veins. "Okay, I don't think I have ever been that reckless in my entire life. I kind of feel bad that I enjoyed it." When he noticed her quietness he added, "Please don't think—"

"I don't think that, Jack, son of Thomas," Layla interrupted with a little, guilty smile, "I was the one who spurred you on to be reckless. And..."

He hung on her 'and' cliffhanger like it determined everything.

"... I liked it."

_Yes!_ He thought, then smiled coyly when he remembered she could hear his thoughts.

Layla laughed, shaking her head. "Now lets get back before the Weaver guild catches up with us."

"Okay," Jack said. Then he looked over his shoulder at the black vehicle disappearing behind them. "What was that thing, anyway?" He asked, slowly pushing the skyjammer forward with his thoughts.

"Khepri-ark," Layla replied. "A solider transporter. I'm guessing its going to assist in the take back of Zerzura."

Jack felt a shiver race up his spine at the thought of more blood shed and focused back on the road ahead.

"I see you and sister have made friends with this djinn and the half-Atlantean." Rykar's interrogating voice broke the silence of the Inner Sanctum and pulled Vesphaeon away from his book. "An unlikely alliance if ever I saw one."

"Hello, brother," the smaller man replied, closing the book and standing to face the unexpected visitor. "What brings you into this domain of literature and lore, which you so often scorn?"

The warrior stepped over to his brother and looked menacingly down at him. "I have come to seek your alliance against father's irrational mind. The desert thief and the half-kin are not wanted here. They are an insult to our people and they can only bring trouble."

"Trouble? I don't see how so."

"You are just as blind as father," Rykar retorted, his anger building. Vesphaeon was always good at taunting him. "First he allows those pesky lore-kin into our city; now its djinn. What will he do next? Open the gates to Alexandria and let the Egyptians know where we are? I am tired of his weak decisions and insulting mandates. And I'm tired of you and your support of his madness."

Rykar took another challenging step forward. His chest was inches away from Vesphaeon's face. "You were so eager, so quick to embrace the culture of the natives." The next word was hissed through clenched teeth of distain and ridicule, "A weak move."

Vesphaeon kept his biting sarcasm in check and did not take the bait. His eyes locked with Rykar's. "Is that all?" he asked, evenly.

The taller man smirked, turned and walked away. "A change will come soon, brother. And if you are not with us, then you will be against us."

When he was alone again, Vesphaeon sat back down and stared at the closed book before him.

"That change will come sooner than you expect," he said, and the sarcasm was gone from his face.

Mathias paced Oreus' secret study. His head hung down under the weight of heavy thoughts. The general was no longer clothed in his modern world disguise, but wore a charcoal and bronze tunic, fastened by three metal clasps across his chest—each one detailed with dolphin-shaped buckles—and black leather pants, over the top of light-grey, pointed leather boots. One metal plate clung to his left shoulder, etched in the Atlantean symbols of the sea: schools of fish being chased by a shark, and three mermen with tridents chasing the shark.

"If the djinn is right," Oreus said, "then we have another enemy other than Kaelan and his rabble."

"This Bast seems quite formidable to have defeated Essios," Mathias added, his pace unbroken.

"He put up a good fight," the High Librarian said carefully, sensing Mathias' volatile mood. "Or so I have been told."

Silence passed between them and the general's boots on the marble floor clacked in time with a swinging pendulum on Oreus' large wooden desk.

"There is another question on my mind," Mathias finally continued, "that has been nagging me since we landed."

"What is that, old friend?"

"Where was the promised backup in the Southlake woods? We were left without help."

The question came so unexpected that Oreus mumbled and muttered in response, struggling for an answer. Finding he had none, he shook his head in confusion. "What backup? I was told you wanted to go with only Laela, Wilath and Erinaeus. You didn't want the search for Jack to be jeopardised by sending a larger force."

"I did not say such a thing." Mathias stood still and looked squarely at his old friend with a hard, demanding gaze. "Who told you this?"

"My son—"

Cloak swerved his skyjammer off of the road and stopped behind one of the large pillars that reached up to the cavern's roof. His back to the cold stone, he peered around its girth and watched as the khepri-ark, which Jack and Layla had avoided a collision course with earlier, passed the Weaver guild members. The orange robed merchants barely paid it any attention as its passing shadow momentarily engulfed them. The black, beetle-like vehicle hummed passed his concealed spot by the roadside and disappeared into the darkness away from the city.

Khepri-arks were built by the ancient Osirians as soldier transport ships and were one of the many types of vehicles salvaged from the desert and utilised by the Atlantean occupiers of The Library. The markings that were normally sanded off by the military officers, in an attempt to remove any Osirian iconography, was not done so with this one. Cloak studied the battle symbols scrawled over its plate-layered hulk with a burning curiosity.

"That is odd," he whispered to himself. The black, Nysaean cloak he currently donned, shifted softly about his slender form. "The pride of Osiria for all to see..."

Letting that last thought float into the ether of unanswered questions, the Samatar spun his skyjammer around and left the concealment of the pillar, flying swiftly after the khepri-ark.

It did not take him long to gain sight of the slower moving transport vehicle. Staying relatively out of sight, Cloak shadowed the khepri-ark. His eyes glowing ever so softly in the darkness of the chamber. The occasional pillars entwined with gloam vines whisked passed him; but Cloak was sure to avoid their illumination.

The transport soon left the city and entered the landing fields beyond.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity for Cloak, the khepri-ark stopped before The Library Gate: the portal that the companions had entered the secret city by. A massive stone wall engraved with the Three Eyes loomed out of the darkness like a cliff-face shadowing an ocean floor. Two mighty pillars framed its edges, and below, at its base, was a great ramp that rose a hundred feet to a platform crowded with Atlantean soldiers.

"Something is amiss," Cloak whispered to himself, his eyes gazing intensely at the khepri-ark.

Then as if on cue, a black plate on the vehicle's right side suddenly slid open and eight heavily armed men exited, making their way up the ramp towards the gate guards. They wore the armour of the Keeper's Assassins, but carried short, cruel looking spears.

"It must be—no!"

Cloak removed a spyglass from inside his tunic and looked at the guards again. A shimmer of blue light travelled down the spyglass' length and dispersed at the lens. It was a Farseeker Glass, which allowed its user to see through illusions. Cloak saw the Dark Tide tattoo—a curling black wave over a grinning skull—on the necks of the rebel Atlanteans.

"Infiltrators!" The accusation hissed vehemently between Cloak's clenched teeth. "They will destroy the Gate!"

The skyjammer hummed to life again and Cloak raced towards the ramp as if all of Osiria was at his heels.

Eight men dressed as Keeper Assassins approached the guards who lounged lazily before the gates. The Gate Watch—usually a formidable force that was chosen from high ranking soldiers of the Atlantean army—gambled on the great marble platform, playing the Atlantean game of Sling-Dice—a die tied to a piece of string and spun around like a yo-yo in intricate patterns before flinging it to the ground—while others leaned against the railing, laughing and drinking gloam ale. They did not suspect an attack and were still celebrating the return of Mathias and his patrol.

"Arai!" the captain of the guards boomed, pushing two of his colleagues aside to stride up to the newcomers. "Assassins come to take back Zerzura, I'll wager!"

The smile quickly died on his lips when the first assassin stepped up to him and slid his short-spear deep into the captain's stomach. His startled gasp was barely audible over the laughing guards, as they continued to play their dice games and drink their ale. It was scant moments later, that several glances at the impaled captain drew the unprepared watch to their feet in a cry to arms.

But it was too late. The vicious attack came quickly and without remorse.

Rebel Lemurians savagely cut their way into the crowd of stumbling Gate Watch, dispatching them before they could grab their weapons. Then when the guards had finally rallied together in an attempt to turn back the attack, the rebels hurled small metallic balls into their ordered ranks. Upon impact, the balls exploded into raging fire. The Gate Watch covered their faces in vain to protect against the blinding fire, which ate their flesh and cindered their bones.

A minute passed and all resistance were dead.

One of the rebels cried triumphantly, "For the Dark Tide!" After the words had left his thin lips, the dark haired man rushed over to a dead Gate Watch guard who lay before the great doors. His charred corpse wore a silver chest plate emblazoned with the symbol of Three Eyes. Upon his skull rested a circlet very similar to the ones the skyjammer pilots wore. The Dark Tide rebel reached down and picked up the circlet; gazing lustfully at its shimmering circumference. The words he uttered next were fierce and triumphant, "The key to the gate."

Outside, shadowy figures moved stealthy along the tunnel walls, all moving towards the mighty Library gates that loomed ahead of them. They acted as if they shared a single consciousness: moving in unison, and swarming for cover behind the outcrops of rock that lay strewn about like a flock of black crows. When the shadows reached the dead end of the tunnel, they began to merge into a cloaked mass before the gates. Then fists shot out of out of the gathered crowd above cowled heads, holding curved scimitars that glittered like stars.

It was a silent signal for death from the djinn army. A signal for war.

Cloak stopped his skyjammer at the bottom of the ramp and leaped into the shadows. Instead of ascending the ramp and coming up behind the rebels, he ran along its base, making his way to where the ramp came flush against the cavern wall. From under his sleeves suddenly sprung iron-clawed gauntlets, which he clasped the stone wall with and began to claw his way up.

The Dark Tide rebel placed the circlet upon his head and turned to the mighty doors. His eyes shimmered briefly, then closed.

Stone groaning against stone resounded in the great cavern and the door began to slowly open. The Atlanteans formed a semi-circle around the one with the circlet and waited patiently, their spears bristling like teeth.

Cloak had reached the top of his climb when the gate had fully retracted into the cavern roof. He pressed his body flat against the ground, his belt humming to life with its cloaking powers. To anyone gazing at the far corner of the ramp, he was merely another shadow cast from the overhanging rocks.

The door had barely stopped when a flood of black-hooded djinn poured onto the platform. They rushed up to the Dark Tide rebels and halted before the one who had opened the door.

"Xharan Ar'Taarg," a voice boomed in greeting from the throng of desert warriors. "The betrayal of your people will be your blessing to ours."

A giant djinn wielding two scimitars stepped up to the white haired Atlantean named Xharan and grinned at him from beneath his hood.

"Bast," the rebel replied, opening his eyes to stare upon his new ally. A dark smile crept on to his face.

**CHAPTER 29: TRAITOR'S GAMBIT**

Mathias locked his eyes with Oreus. He knew the name the High Librarian was about to say before he said it.

"Vesphaeon—"

"Where is he?"

"Rykar told me he was sulking in his books, so I went to him. He and Eleena were heading for the city. He said something about wanting to find Jack to get some fresh air in the streets of Alexandria—"

The Atlantean general turned and made for the chamber door. "Call the guards. Have them arrest Vesphaeon on treason! I will find Jack!"

Oreus did not argue. Realisation of his son's betrayal was becoming crystal clear. His heart was full of sorrow and despair. The High Librarian waited until Mathias was gone before making an effort to stand. "No, no, no," he whispered, shaking his head. "My dear boy, what have you done?"

"Where is he?" Rykar thundered at a group of guards milling around Mathias. Two of them were fitting the general in armour much like the one that Jack wore during his spar with Ramose. Gaian armour. They stood by the steps of the Chamber of Lore beside a fleet of skyjammers. "I swear, I will kill him!"

His eyes looked in envy at the Gaianar armour, which idenfitied Mathias as an Order Knight. Rykar knew the power of the Gaianar, knew that Mathias had led armies that had defeated legions of Osirians and Ramaeans with that armour donned. It could channel the very power of the earth; the Aether, as it was called. He could level great walls with it—but only for a little while, for its power would eventually take its toll on the wearer, and the armour itself.

"Don't use words that may foresee the future," Mathias replied with stern look at Rykar. "Take some men and scour the streets. I will take this force to the Sun Garden to look for Jack and Layla, and then on to the Gate!"

"Why the Gate?" Rykar asked, his anger almost choking him.

"Because the fool is more than likely working with the rebels. He will seek to let them in now that they know Jack is here. Let them claim the prize they so desire. A bargain has been made."

Before Rykar could respond, Mathias leaped upon a skyjammer and led a force of twenty men toward the Great Road, which would take them to the Sun Garden.

The older son of Oreus frowned at the accusation Mathias had made. _This cannot be. Vesphaeon is a loyal Atlantean. He is blind to father's rule and a lackey to that arrogant general. I doubt he has any machinations with the enemy. But... he has always been a mystery. Never sharing his most inner thoughts. I am sure it is a misunderstanding. I will find him and bring him back to father. Bring back the whimpering fool and show Mathias that my brother is not a traitor._

Rykar's inner dialogue was interrupted by the stomping of leather boots on marble. He cast a glance over his shoulder and saw more Atlantean soldiers armed with glaives, hurrying to his side.

"To the city proper!" He ordered, waving them on. "We must find my brother!"

"Where are we going, brother?" Eleena asked in her small, delicate voice. "This seems a little odd to want to walk the streets of Alexandria when we've only just met Jack and Ramose."

"You and that boy will be the death of us!" Vesphaeon said darkly.

"Are you okay?"

Her brother pushed her comforting hand away. "I don't have time to answer all your questions. We have to get out of here. Something bad is about to happen."

"What? When? How do you know this?" he could feel her eyes on the back of his head. Vesphaeon turned slowly.

For a moment, Eleena saw sorrow on her brother's face, then it was gone, replaced with a scowl. "Our idiot brother Rykar has been prying into my affairs far too much. Asking similar questions." The last sentence was accompanied by two searing eyes of contempt on his sister. When she gasped and he realised he was looking at her but thinking of his brother's mockery, his face softened. "I am beginning to suspect his loyalty to our family and this great city. The reason we are leaving, dear sister, is so that I can get some fresh air."

"And what about Jack?" she ventured to ask timidly.

"Yes, Jack as well. We must find the boy and take him with us. I want to take him on a night stroll in Alexandria and show him what has become of _great_ Osiria."

Eleena swallowed her apprehension and stumbled obediently after her brother. She didn't like the way he was acting, but felt she had no other choice.

The pair made their way down a dimly lit back road off the main thoroughfare, where the squat buildings seemed much closer together. A row of women statues stood silently on either side of the road, their bodies stretched up on tiptoes as if trying to reach the ceiling of the cavern. Clasped in their finger-locked hands were glass orbs filled with gloam dust.

Vesphaeon seemed oblivious to the lantern-maidens, but his sister let her attention linger on the finally crafted Osirians statues. "Shouldn't we have simply taken The Rise to get to Alexandria?" Eleena muttered at her brother's back, the question trailing into a whisper.

"This way, not far now," he said, encouragingly; though his voice sounded strained.

"How will we—?"

Shadowy figures suddenly surged out from behind the statues and began to surround them.

"Vesphaeon?" A husky voice demanded.

"Yes?" Vesphaeon answered, taking a challenging step towards the closest silhouette, which lingered on the edge of the gloam light. "Who wants to know?"

"Your new friends," the voice laughed, mockingly. "We have come to show you the way out."

"Who are they?" Eleena whispered, worriedly from behind Vesphaeon's shoulder.

"Wait here," he replied firmly, his gaze locking with hers momentarily. There was a strictness; a warning she dared not question. "I will make sure our _guides_ are who they say they are."

Eleena simply nodded. Her confusion and fear was barely containable. "I trust you," she said, her wide, blue eyes sparkling like gems. The gloam dust on her skin made her appear like a shimmering apparition in the subterranean darkness.

Her stern-faced brother nodded and walked towards the shadows. They spoke in hushed voices for a moment, then Vesphaeon returned and ushered her with a frantic wave. "We must depart here, before... the fight."

"Fight?"

"No time for questions now—"

"No, Vesp. I need to know what is going on."

"If we linger here, I—we will be exposed..."

Before the debate could continue, there was a flash of bright light behind them, followed by the sound of heavy boots and clinking armour. Vesphaeon looked back the way they had come and saw another group of silhouettes moving quickly towards them. Another flash of light revealed the search party were Library guards. Rykar was at their lead.

"We have to go now!" Vesphaeon shouted, grabbing Eleena and running towards one of the city pillars that stood behind the lantern-maidens.

"Vesp! Where are we going?" Eleena cried over the sounds of the Library guards charging at the other group of shadows her brother had spoken to. Vesphaeon didn't answer, but pulled her up against the pillar. He then began to scour the pillar with his clawing fingers, desperately searching for something.

"There is a secret door here somewhere!"

"I don't see anything—"

Thruuum!

A section in the obsidian pillar rolled back, revealing a secret chamber.

Ramose had been following Rykar and his men since they had departed from the Chamber of Lore. The fear that Oreus' older son was a traitor kept him watching from the shadows. Now he crouched low on a house rooftop, his attention on the fight below. Even in the low light of the lantern-maidens, the djinn could see that it was between Library guards and djinn warriors from his own tribe. Those loyal to Bast.

"They have finally caught up," he said darkly. He gripped the Staff of Dancing Winds tightly.

The teenager then saw Eleena being dragged by Vesphaeon to one of the giant cavern pillars.

_Eleena! They must be fleeing the fight!_ He stood up and walked to the edge of the roof...

"Pockets of rebels are appearing in all corners of The Library," the pale-faced guard hurriedly reported to Mathias, whose patrol had halted in the middle of the Great Road. Their skyjammers ringed the messenger who appeared wounded and barely standing. "We have seen Dark Tide Atlanteans and djinn warriors working together to attack the city watch! They have even begun breaking into the residential areas and attacking our people while they sleep."

"Chaos," Mathias said, his face a foreboding visage. The sharp lines of his features cast harsh shadows across his face. "They are trying to distract us so they can find Jack."

The messenger—who carried one of his arms in a sling—nodded. "They have torn most of the eastern quarters apart as if looking for something or someone."

Mathias turned to one of his men and pointed at the messenger. "Take him to Oreus! We must search the Sun Garden!"

The patrol resumed their advance down the road, while one of the Library guards collected the wounded messenger and turned back to the Chamber of Lore.

Mathias and his men had not travelled far, when Jack and Layla ripped out of the darkness ahead on their skyjammer.

"Jack!" Mathias exclaimed, swerving his skyjammer to avoid impact. The Library guards did likewise, as Jack flew passed them and came to an abrupt halt.

"Mathias! I am so sorry!" Jack cried, leaping from the skyjammer and running towards the tall general. "We came as fast as we could. Where's Cloak? And William?"

"Will is safe, he is on a task I have set him; however, I have not seen the Nysaean," Mathias said, turning back to face the teenager. "He is more than likely searching for answers in our enemy's camp."

Jack's confused look was reflected by Layla. "What do you mean?" she said, stepping up beside the half-Atlantean. "He was with us only a moment ago."

"Well, we do not have time for quandaries," Mathias said, "there has been a breach of the Library's defences and I must attend to the Gate. The enemies of Atlantis have finally rallied for our noose."

"The rebels," Layla hissed her disdain. "We will come with you!"

"No," Mathias ordered. "Both of you go back to Oreus! Layla you must protect the Son of Thomas. He is what the rebels want. Kaelan will never give up until he has the Crown of Dreams."

Layla and Jack—he was feeling more confident and ready to face conflict now—were about to voice their displeasure with the decision when there came a battle-cry from the darkness ahead.

"Its too late!" Mathias shouted, pulling his glaive from left forearm, which morphed into a long, elegant blade. "Protect Jack!"

The Library guards readied their own glaives and formed a wall across the road. Then out of the shadows burst a force of Dark Tide rebels armed with glaives, and cloaked djinn warriors wielding scimitars and bows. Under a hail of arrows, the enemy descended on Mathias' men.

"Layla! Stay with him!" Mathias thundered, charging into the fray with his glaive changing yet again: this time into a giant battle-hammer. The giant swung the weapon about in wide circles, causing the front line of rebels to scatter from his approach.

Jack noticed the oceanic murals that spiderwebbed the wedge-tipped hammer whirling above Mathias' head and was momentarily distracted from the attack. "Such detail—"

Layla pulled Jack out of his trance, leading him to the skyjammer. "Come on! Mathias must be annoyed. He rarely uses the battle-hammer shape with his glaive. That means he is channeling Gaianar bloodlust."

"Gaianar have a bloodlust mode? I thought they were noble protectors who use violence as a last resort."

His companion gave him a quizzical look. "You obviously have no idea!"

Jack and Layla leaped onto the skyjammer and were about to urge it forward with a thought when there was _clink_ sound on the ground to their right, followed by an explosion that threw them off the hovering platform. Layla clung tightly to Jack as they fell to the ground in a wisp of smoke and fire.

A scream of fear choked in Jack's throat and died. Quickly climbing to his feet, his hands patted down his body, finding no injuries. He kneeled down and helped an equally surprised Layla to her feet. "How—?"

"The armour!" the girl cried, pulling away from him and pointing at his chest.

Jack looked down, and saw the comfortably light armour he forgot to remove, under the tatters of his shirt. It burned red from the bomb's fire, then gradually weakened to an orange glow, before dissipating into a soft white aura. "It absorbed the blast. Saved us both!"

Layla nodded, then her head snapped up at something behind Jack. "Look out!" she cried, her glaive uncurling from around her waist and forming a blade in her hand.

Jack ducked instinctively, as a spear swiped over his head. Layla leap-frogged over Jack, slashing her glaive in an upwards arc, which tore through the rebel's throat. His lifeless corpse had just dropped to the ground when another two rushed forward to take his place.

"Now would be a good time to put your training to work!" she shouted while fending off the two attackers at once. "Not like I need any help or anything."

Jack pulled his own glaive from off of his left forearm. It sprung to life instantly, taking the form of a shining blade. The teenager swallowed the last of his fear down and leaped to Layla's side, deflecting a blow just in time, which was about to slash into the girl's left shoulder. Grinning at her amazed expression, Jack used the battle-memory ingrained in his muscles from the armour to guide him into the fight.

Each blow from the rebels seemed like easily predicted moves to the half-Atlantean. Like they were freshly trained in swordplay, or were just incompetent. Their attacks seemed slow and cumbersome. When he turned to see how Layla was faring against another rebel that popped up out of the darkness to attack them from the rear, he saw that she kept glancing at him and shaking her head in amazement.

"Not as weak as you may have thought, hey?" he laughed, using the glaive to change into a large metallic gauntlet, which he smashed into the rebels, knocking them out cold—their unconscious bodies slumping to the ground.

Layla laughed and shook her head. The rebel fighting her took that brief moment of distraction to lunge at Layla's seemingly exposed back; but was met by the elongated length of her glaive through his stomach. The weapon had shaped itself into a long lance, which just as quickly retracted back into a sword blade. "Lets get you out of here," she said, waving him to follow her to one of the abandoned skyjammers.

Mathias charged into the horrified faces of eight djinn warriors whose arrows had all missed or deflected off of their target's armour. The mighty hammer-shaped glaive smashed into his foes before they could use their scimitars and muster against him. Broken and bloodied bodies fell on either side of the giant general, leaving a path of destruction in his wake.

Around him fanned out the Library guards who had dismounted their skyjammers. A psychic message had been sent out to the surrounding buildings in the district they were fighting in, and more Lemurians were coming out of the side streets to join the throng.

Five more rebels and six djinn fell to Mathias' bloodlust before the enemy stopped their attack on him. He was left with shallow wounds; but nothing serious enough to slow his rampage.

The giant suddenly stood still, isolated within the battle around him. Like the eye of a cyclone.

Ahead in the darkness of the great road came the humming sound of a large machine. A hulk-like shadow hovered along the road towards him.

"They have captured a kepri-ark," he said grimly.

The humming increased, and another shadowy bulk appeared behind the first.

"Two."

Then another.

"Three." When the shadows did not multiply and the cacophony of humming did not increase, Mathias began to weigh up his battle strategy. He knew on the ground his men would be helpless against the armoured transports.

Then suddenly explosions began erupting amongst the patches of fighting. Mathias' sharp vision detected rebels atop the kepri-arks hurling small metallic balls at the Library guards and the Lemurian militia.

A grin—that Mathias seldom did when he was in the company of others—crept onto his face, heralding a plan. He crouched low, his finger tips of both hands touching the rock floor. Feeling, drawing upon a power deep below. Mathias suddenly felt a shudder in those fingertips, which travelled up his arms and into his chest. Like a second heartbeat, it pulsed in time with his own. The Gaianar's senses sharpened as the earth spirit sung through his veins and pure bliss consumed him. The planet's spirit rejoiced in him, suffusing and merging with his soul, expanding his consciousness. The strength of ages uncounted poured into his body, into his conduit vessel like a floodgate bursting. White fire rose from his shoulders and leaped from his eyes in ethereal tendrils, and his armour groaned as it syphoned and distributed the power evenly throughout his body, heightening his senses and invigorating him. Nothing could stop him in his state. Not a legion of men, nor a kapri-ark. Nor three.

The giant charged the closest kepri-ark. His eyes flashed a furious white as psychic-energy caused through his veins. With the speed of jungle cat, Mathias leaped onto the black-plated hulk and began smashing it with his glaive-hammer. It shuddered, swerved, then righted itself. Mathias smashed it again and a jolt of white fire shuddered through it. Climbing up to the top of the beetle-looking vehicle, the general found the rebel who had been throwing the bombs from the top hatch. The man, who had a patch over his left eye and a scruffy beard, yelped in fear and began to climb back down inside the kepri-ark. Mathias lashed out with his glaive-hammer and crushed the rebel's hand as it attempted to pull the hatch door closed. He then reached into the darkness of the transport and pulled the man back out again. Grabbing one of the many metallic spheres from squirming bomber's belt, Mathias flicked its switch, and dropped the screaming man into the hatch with the bomb after him. He then leaped off the kepri-ark and ran for the second one behind it.

An explosion shook the ground like a volcanic eruption and the kepri-ark backflipped into the air in a dazzling ball of flames, sending shards of its armour flying in all directions.

Mathias threw his arms out on either side of his body as he ran, channeling his Gaianar armour to amplify his psychic power. The burning wreckage of the first kapri-ark suddenly split into two, and both pieces moved in sync with the Atlantean's arms, which were brought swiftly together in front of him. When his hands clapped, the supercharged fireballs smashed into the second kapri-ark from both sides. The behemoth exploded.

Dropping into a low crouch, Mathias shielded his face from the dome of raging fire. In this vulnerable state he barely noticed the last kepri-ark tear out of the fire from his left. Xharan Ar'Taarg stood atop its massive bulk, wielding a short spear in one hand and an Atlantean hand-bomb in the other. A glaive shaped into a silver serpent glittered from his waist. When his new adversary solidified out of the haze of fire, the Atlantean general ran out of the fast moving vehicle's way. Xharan's bomb exploded where Mathias had stood only seconds before, its fire licking at his flesh, but being absorbed by his armour. The giant wheeled back around and charged the kepri-ark.

Xharan dived off of the transport and landed in Mathias' path. His leather boots thudding on the stone ground.

"I heard you fought Gha'haram," the Dark Tide rebel said, grinning sadistically. His short spear dripped with some unknown poison that Mathias guessed would not have a pleasant effect on his body. "And almost killed him. "

"Almost," Mathias panted ever so softly, his storm-grey eyes alive with psychic energy. He could feel his Gaianar armour begin to crack; the stress of the battle had damaged it severely. "Gha'haram is a tough one to kill. You... not so much."

Xharan's face distorted in a knot of rage. "I will bleed you, Aramathaeus!"

Kaelan's captain charged the exhausted general with hatred in his eyes. His spear poised for a death-blow.

Mathias' armour stopped glowing—its power spent.

**CHAPTER 30: A CITY AT WAR**

The horizon was a-light with explosions and fire, reflecting off the pillars, and reaching for the ceiling of the city. The battle was drawing nearer to the Chamber of Lore and its ensconced silence. Like thunder heralding a storm, the sound of weapons clashing and men screaming triumphs or death cries rumbled in the distance.

Oreus had assembled the Library Army in its entirety, emptying the barracks and the many bunkers built deep into the side of the cavern wall. Six hundred Lemurian men and women, armed with glaives, waited upon the lawn of the building; gathered at the feet of the Fathers of Osiria. Amongst their number were War Heralds, a small force of City Watchmen on skyjammers, Storm Fists—giant Hyperborean warriors wielding maces and battle-axes—and a scant few Order Knights from the House of Auralar and Kratoth who took lead as field captains.

The High Librarian however was pacing his private chamber, awaiting the last of his guards to return from the Hall of Lords. Their task was to seal the doors beneath the thrown so the rebels could not use The Rise to access the city. The Key of the Library would be used to lock the portal. Should brutal force be used to break in from the other side, the doors and the thrown above it would collapse, sealing the tunnel beyond.

"Lock the gate!" Captain Acareth yelled at one of his men, who raced up the steps of The Rise. "Kaelan has already breached the the Library. We cannot afford him another way in!" Shaking his head, he turned to his men with despair in his voice. "Either the Taraal are all dead, or Kalaidan has betrayed us."

The guard carrying the key—a silver and gold dolphin entwined, with their tails splayed out—was almost at the top of the marble steps, when a sound of cogs turning deep within the walls of the hall were heard.

"What the devil?"Acareth exclaimed, spinning around to find one of his men had pulled the lever that controlled the doors: a large bronze bar protruding from a marble encasing that resembled two suns; half above ground, half below. The suns rotated in their grooves, their light rays disappearing underground, and their previously unseen sides revealing moons. "A Dark Tide traitor!"

The other three Atlantean guards who stood nearby drew their glaives and slew the unmasked rebel. When his body crumbled to the floor, they rushed to raise the lever. But it was too late.

A surge of red, crystalline energy blasted forth from the barely-opened doors, instantly killing the guard. The dolphin-key fell to the ground, clattering loudly down the long marble steps.

"Retreat!" the Alcareth cried. "We must warn Oreus—!" But the last of his words died in his throat as another blast of red energy tore through his chest. The last thing he saw as he fell back into the arms of his men were Dark Tide rebels pouring down the steps of The Rise. They were armed with Marika Staffs—ancient Rama weapons—and were all hooded in black. The silver emblem of the skull under the ocean wave shimmering on their cloaks.

The sound of fighting outside Oreus' chamber door died; the mind-voices of his personal guard silenced forever. A shadow engulfed the thin line of light from under his door. Oreus knew who had come for him.

"The door is open; it is always open to visitors. Even to those who have forsaken the Library!"

Oreus watched in trepidation, as the door creaked open and a familiar silhouette walked into the gloam-light, which weakly bathed his chamber from the many alcoves in the walls.

Before him stood a man with a bloodied glaive in one hand and a lost look in his eyes as if he wasn't sure where he was. The thought vanished when the Dark Tide rebel look upon his childhood friend. A smile began to tug at his lips, and for a moment his eyes lit up with happiness.

"Ah! Oreus! Leader, scholar, peacekeeper," the man in the black robes said boldly. Then a subtle tone of sadness clung to his next words, "Dear, dear friend."

"Kaelan," Oreus said in barely a whisper.

"Yes, it is me old friend. Come back to the House of Athesphar. A Son of Atlantis, come home. I am so wary, Oreus. Wary of the outside world that took our beloved Toram—may he rest in peace.

Oreus flinched at the mention of Thomas' true name.

"Wary of modern man and his futile machinations for power, for domination. Paupers of greatness they are, building on the shoulders of our ancestors. Pity on them for their inadequacies and shame on us for letting them rule."

"There are good men and women who walk those streets above us, old friend," Oreus replied. "Good people. Not all of them are petty squabblers for power."

"Good people? The blind king befriending the jailor because he cannot see the bars. Such is our predicament, is it not?"

Oreus did not retort, but took a step back to his table where his glaive hid, disguised as a metal spine of one of his great tomes that lay spread wide under the shimmer of a gloam orb lamp.

Kaelan stepped forward. "You want this bloodshed to end? Want our brothers and sisters to stop killing each other, needlessly? Then hear me out, hear my plea. _Our_ plea!"

"What would you have me—us do?" Oreus felt the edge of his desk against the back of his legs. His hands began fumbling behind him. Searching for the book that would protect him. He was one of few Lemurians who did not carry his weapon on him. Now he regretted that more than ever.

"I would have you honour our people like you once did. Put our need before these modern people, these pale imitations of us. Take up the Thrown of Lemuria and take back the world we once ruled. No longer to live in the darkness of these hidden cities! Walking tall and proud in all the streets of the world.

"Can you see it? See the great towers of Atlantis rebuilt? Raised in every capital city. A glory restored! Oh how my heart would be stilled!"

"I see all your visions, Kaelan. All your visions unfurled. A great restoration. The end of a war."

"Yes!"

"And I see the taint of the Crown taking us back to the Fall. I see the lust for near-infinite power consuming it's wearer: you. He who would be King of All Lands. The Singer of Fates on the wind again, heralding the tidal waves of doom. Drowning this world into oblivion, under the shadow of the king's madness."

The light of eagerness in Kaelan's eyes were suddenly gone; replaced with black rage. "The Crown of Dreams is our only weapon to use against the nations of this world. Without it we will have a fight that could stretch into the Ages beyond. Countless lives slaughtered, our people on the brink of utter destruction. No, we need the Crown!"

"No less than the lives lost now?" Oreus said, and there was an edge in his voice that surprised both men. "This war against _them_ which you push us into will not bring sovereignty. Only more death."

Kaelan was silent and the room became deathly still. The High Librarian could hear the throbbing of blood in his ears, the breath from both their lips. The tension was like a vice, squeezing the air out of his lungs. Kaelan's icy cold eyes bored into his, cutting into his very being and leaving all his thoughts and fears bare. Then, like the fringe of a threatening storm receding back to sea and leaving a coastal town untouched, the invisible threat began to fade. Finally, Kaelan spoke. "Perhaps there is another way. If you were to wear the Crown of Dreams, if you were to take up the charge of our people to reclaim our lands, then, by my word, I would follow you. Give up my leadership of the Dark Tide and surrender my forces to you. They would follow someone as wise and fair as you. Under my command, they would end this war. This madness."

Behind his back, Oreus' fingers lingered along the spine of the large book. The shimmer of the glaive was hidden from Kaelan's view.

"We could fight side by side again, old friend, no longer enemies." Kaelan dropped his right hand on Oreus' shoulder. Five claw-like rings encircled each finger. The light was in his eyes again: an intensity that seemed restrained, but just barely.

The High Librarian pulled his hand away from the book. "We will always be those young boys playing along the banks of Atlantis, Kaelan. You, Toram, Aramathaeus and I. Free as the wind. Nothing stopping us."

"Yes."

"I was your older brother then, when you had no family. Remember? Sleeping in my family's loft."

"Yes, I do," Kaelan said, and for a moment he strayed from his dark thoughts into fond memories he thought he had lost. "How could I forget."

"It is these memories I must honour. I cannot betray our brotherhood. Our friendship. I cannot wear the Crown. And... I cannot let you wear it either."

A tear glided down Kaelan's cheek and he nodded slowly. Then the dream shattered. His right hand released Oreus' shoulder. The claw rings suddenly elongated, merging into one blade that the rebel drove deep into his friend's chest, screaming, "No!"

Oreus gasped in shock and he crumbled back against the table. The spine of the book out of reach.

Kaelan held him, preventing his dying friend from falling to the floor. He pulled him close and whispered through tears, "I did what had to be done. You must understand this. You of all people knew me best, that is why I cannot understand your short sight. I hate you and love you! Curse your foolishness!"

Oreus' vision was blurred by his own tears and the fog of death.

"We will always be running free," Kaelan said bitterly. "You and I. Remember us that way."

"Akah, sa'suur, Kaelannn..." Oreus whispered in a ragged breath as his life force ebbed away. He coughed up blood, which ran in rivulets down his neck.

"Shhh, shhh. Rest now. Let the dark tide of Atlantis take you into the sea from where we came."

A vicious knock came at the door. Kaelan closed Oreus' eyes with his ringed hand. Streaks of blood smearing his lifeless face. The knock came again.

"Leave me!" the rebel leader screamed and a dark shadow swallowed him in despair and he wept for a long time.

When he finally left Oreus chamber, there was no longer any sadness in Kaelan's eyes; and there would never be any ever again. The past was so small a thought now, repressed by anger and madness that it could not even return to him in a dream. All he had left was the desire to find the Crown of Dreams and the wonders he could accomplish with it.

Brother and sister stumbled towards the pillar.

"What was that?" Vesphaeon said, suddenly turning to Eleena. "Did you hear that?"

"No," she answered, the look of confusion and fear on her face to the battle around them. "What is it?"

"I heard a voice scream in my mind. Warning me! It must be father! What have I done?"

"Run!" Eleena screamed and Vesphaeon snapped out of his reverie as a Library guard leaped out of the darkness, trying to grab him.

"You must come with us, my lord!" the guard shouted.

Vesphaeon pulled Eleena by the hand and they ran into the pillar. When he turned around, he saw his brother Rykar joining the guard who was running after them.

"Its Rykar!" Eleena screamed. "Don't close the door—!"

The pillar's door slid shut and an enraged Rykar crashed against it, hammering it with the pommel of his glaive. "Open this door, fools!" He screamed over the fighting. "You traitorous fools! Explain yourselves!"

Then a horde of djinn warriors rushed Rykar from out of the shadows. Their scimitars gleaming in the like swathes of white fire in the darkness.

"To me!" the son of Oreus screamed back in challenge, raising his arm into the air. Library guards rallied at the pillar's base and fought back the tide of enemies. Two djinn died under Rykar's blade, before he said, "Ramose! I knew that desert rat was a runner for Bast's army!"

Arrows suddenly rained out of the darkness on top of Rykar's men, who turned from the battle and retreated, frantically searching for shelter. Using their glaives to mind-shape elaborate shields, they scattered into the side streets and behind pillars out of the light of the statues. Then, when they had finally regrouped for a counter attack, a sand storm exploded around them. In the low-light they could see the silhouette of djinn warriors spinning around in intricate dances. They were called storm-dancers and they used similar weapons to Ramose' Staff of Dancing Winds. When their dancing had completely obscured the battle, the djinn archers began firing their black shafted arrows at the sand-blinded Library guards again as they stumbled about and crashed into each other.

"We can't fight in this!" one guard shouted to Rykar, running for cover. "They now have the upper hand!" Then a hum of arrows pieced the air near the men, followed by several thuds. The guard toppled over—several arrows skewering his throat and chest. Through squinting eyes, Rykar could just make out the silhouette of the dead guard; one of many hazy lumps that lay still in the grey sandstorm.

"They don't have the upper hand just yet," he whispered harshly to himself, turning his attention to the statues and their gloam-orbs. Removing a small, metallic sphere from his belt, Rykar wound his arm back and hurled the hand-bomb with strong accuracy. There was an immense explosion upon impact and the statues were engulfed in a huge column of fire that hungrily devoured their gloam-orbs and heightened the fire. The djinn archers were suddenly visible in the sand storm.

The tide of battle turned back into the Lemurians' favour as the Library guards rushed the djinn from the cover of their glaive-shields.

Rykar ran towards the pillar his brother and sister had entered. A giant djinn suddenly appeared from behind it and crashed into him, throwing Rykar to the ground. The wind drained from his lungs, he watched as the towering opponent slowly approached him.

"This is the strength of Atlantis?" bellowed the sinister laughter of his attacker as he loomed into view. "I am surprised our ancestors were defeated by you!" The man was big, bigger than any Osirian Rykar had ever seen. His broad chest was protected by thick, horizontal bands of metal, which formed a solid breastplate—and in the centre of it dangled a necklace of human skulls on a thick leather cord. Large, tree-trunk arms bulged at either side of the breastplate, and boulder sized fists gripped a scimitar each. The weapons were noticeably twice the size as the ones Rykar had seen carried by the other djinn. Long, black hair pooled on his shoulders, and a craggy face covered in scars scowled down at him with a hint of mockery.

"You will rue those words, djinn filth!" Rykar wheezed, his shock of the giant's appearance fading into abject hatred.

"Stand, Atlantean!" the giant commanded, stamping a booted foot closer. "Face me. Face your death!" The scimitars raised up in an attack stance.

"Bast," Rykar said, scrambling wearily to his feet. "You have come a long way from your home in the desert to die."

The djinn leader laughed again. "The pitiful fool speaks words bigger than his deeds. You are a man of little strength, Rykar. Little importance. Your brother has spoken of you and your foolish pride. Yes, don't look so surprised, you knew deep down inside he would betray you. Your father never had much faith in him either. I suppose that is why he left him for dead."

Upon hearing the last threat against his father, Rykar screamed in rage and rushed the giant djinn with his glaive whirling wildly above his head. His first few hits against Bast's dual scimitars forced the djinn a few steps back and one blow even sliced open the djinn's chest. However, when his rage was spent, his sudden weariness left him dangerously open. Bast stepped in and cut off Rykar's sword hand after a feint with his other blade, before decapitating him in one swift movement.

Rykar's headless body dropped to the ground and Bast readied himself against the oncoming swarm of Library guards who wanted vengeance for their dead leader. There was no fear in his eyes, only sadistic glee and arrogance.

Out of the dying sand storm a fresh assault of arrows fell on the Lemurians.

_Return to the Sun Garden! Take the back roads!_ Mathias' mind-voice commanded. The shadows of the rebel army that had swelled beyond count had overcome the Library guards. More kepri-arks came up the road towards the battle.

Layla nodded, half-dragging Jack to the last remaining skyjammer. Placing the circlet on her head, she urged the hover vehicle forward and into the darkness, away from the battle.

"What about Mathias!" Jack screamed over the wind whipping in their faces. "He will be overwhelmed by the rebels!"

"There is nothing we can do now, we have to do what he has commanded us to do. Get back to the Sun Garden. I believe Will is waiting for us there."

"How will we escape the city?" Jack replied, doubt filling his stomach like a lead ball again.

"The Rising Hope." Layla's soft voice held determination.

"The Rising Hope," Jack echoed back, his eyes wide in awe.

_The back roads!_ Mathias' last thoughts were shattered by the ringing of steel against steel as Xharan's short spear and glaive—which he had released from his waist—clashed against the general's glaive.

"The boy will not escape us!" the Dark Tide captain hissed, cautiously approaching his larger opponent. "Kaelan will get him and you will pay for your disloyalty to our people."

Mathias did not answer, but took two thunderous steps forward and swung his glaive-hammer at Xharan's spear, knocking it twenty feet away. He then swung his hammer down low and hooked it in the groove above the rebel's right heel and pulled upwards, tripping him over. Xharan landed in a handstand position, then back flipped towards his spear. Mathias gave chase. Xharan landed in a crouch beside his spear, picked it up and hurled it at the giant's right leg. Mathias' glaive morphed into a circular shield and the spear ricocheted away, embedding itself in the stomach of another rebel. Screaming, the man dropped to the ground, his body convulsing in a fit from the poison.

Xharan smiled darkly, turned to a dead Atlantean several feet away and used his psychic power to draw the man's glaive through the air to him. "Two glaives, two silver flames of Atlantis to cut you down!"

"You have no honour left to carry even one," the general replied, panting softly. The battle exertion was taking its toll.

"Surrender, Aramathaeus," Xharan demanded, holding both glaives in an Atlantean battle-stance; one sword raised over his head, and the other down low, pointing up. "You have nowhere to go. No escape."

The giant turned and watched as the rebels and djinn began to emerge in a large circle around him. There were many of them. They were closing in, eagerness for his defeat on their faces. Some he knew, which made his inevitable defeat more harder to bare.

"Do not die for a lost cause. Do not die for the son of Thomas."

"We still have time, the boy and I. Time to finish this."

"A fool to the bitter end," Xharan laughed, boldly approaching him now.

Then they were upon him.

It took almost twenty of the enemy's lives before Mathias was subdued and disarmed. Six more died touching his Gaianar armour by lashes of blue and white fire which burned through them like they were wheat. But they finally pulled it off him, pried it off his thrashing body. His wrists were then savagely chained to his ankles like he was a wild boar, and he was beaten by a crowd who were hungry for revenge. They were the people who Mathias had chastised and expelled, labelled traitors and forever scorned by the Library. They—who merely wanted to reclaim the Earth as the rightful masters—were separated from their families who now hated them. Because of Mathias, Kaelan had said, they could never return home. Because of Mathias they were made outcasts. This hate drove them to take turns in delivering their own justice on him. Their own revenge. And after awhile Mathias became numb to the violent kicks that hammered into his ribs and the fists that pounded into his face—he accepted their hate, understood it. Finally, the violence stopped, and he was left bloodied and broken upon the cold cavern floor. Blood gushed into his eyes, running down his temples from unseen gashes he couldn't feel anymore.

"Now we will take you to your new master," Xharan said, his voice coming from somewhere beyond the mass of bodies that crowded over him. The rebels parted, and Xharan walked up to him. "So falls the Library." Then he stomped hard on Mathias' head with his leather boot.

All went black.

Layla and Jack flew the skyjammer through the back streets of the Library-city. The sound of the battle had become faint, then finally disappeared into the stillness of the dark.

The streets they travelled were at first deserted. Several of the squat buildings had been ransacked, with their doors left open and the furniture and contents strewn onto the roads. However, they occasionally passed silhouettes of the invaders fighting the Lemurian settlers and quickly swerved down another street to avoid being seen. It was evident from the trail of destruction that the rebels and djinn looters were taking what they wanted and then heading to the main road from where Layla and Jack had come, readying to make an attack on the Chamber of Lore.

At one moment, they almost ran into a Hy-Bresailian battling three djinn warriors in the middle of the street while his wife and screaming child cowered in their home's doorway. Layla stilled the skyjammer in shadows and waited. Jack made a move to help, but Layla stilled him with a sharp glance and whispered, "No. We must not jeopardise our position. That is old Hanresh, he can handle himself."

The bull-necked man, who was thicker in limb than Mathias, grabbed the closest djinn in a headlock and snapped his neck like it was a dry stick. The other two rushed him with scimitars as their companion crumbled to the earth, unmoving. The Hy-Bresailian punched one hard in the face, knocking him out, then used the unconscious body of the djinn to shield himself against a thrust from the other. The scimitar cut deep into the back of the knocked out djinn. Realising he killed his friend and his adversary was now armed with a sword as well, the last djinn ran off into the darkness.

"Run you coward!" Hanresh thundered after him. The big man then dropped the scimitar and rushed over to a body—that Jack had not noticed until now—laying still on the ground. His wife and child joined him and they began to weep loudly.

"Let's go," Layla said and steered the skyjammer down another road away from the scene. "He has just lost his eldest son."

Jack looked back until the lit street of huddled shadows was gone.

Time stretched uncounted, and the darkness seemed impenetrable.

Down a series of empty streets that were hidden between the squat shoulders of the obelisk Osirian buildings the pair travelled in silence. Fearing the enemy was waiting for them around every corner, they kept to the backroads, avoiding the gloam-lit pillars and the open doors that shone bars of light through the pitch black.

They were crossing through a broken yard to reach a certain road when the skyjammer almost collided into a parade of men and women hurrying in single file down a secret trapdoor in the ground. In the scant light, Jack could see that their faces were fine featured with glittering green eyes. After a quick whispered conversation between Layla and the leader of the refugees, they clasped hands, patted backs and departed. Jack's flurry of questions as to who they were and where they were going after the trapdoor had closed was answered with a silent stare. It was an hour later when Layla finally answered him in hushed tones, "They are Avalonians. Their leader, Artur, told me that they will seek to reclaim the ruined city of Avalon for shelter. As to where they were going; there are many secret ways out of the Library other than the Great Stair. That trapdoor was one of them. It connects to the lower passageways hidden beneath the cavern. I wished them luck."

Jack nodded but did not answer. He remembered Mathias telling him that Avalon was abandoned when Kaelan and his army half destroyed it in the first rebellion. It had been their home before the Library was restored. _Perhaps they will salvage something from that mystical city._ The teenager thought, wondering where Avalon might lie concealed. _England, perhaps?_ Then the thought was consumed by the darkness around him and his mind was set on the road ahead.

"I hope Mathias is okay," Jack whispered to Layla as they stopped and crouched behind a low-set wall, avoiding being seen by a patrol of Dark Tide rebels. When the silhouettes had disappeared around a street corner, the pair continued on down a straight road that lead to the Sun Garden. The gloam trees could be seen shimmering in the distance. "I hope Oreus managed to send more men."

"We must not fill our heads with such questions," Layla replied firmly. "Our task is all we must be concerned with. Mathias taught me that: focus on the now. Complete your mission and then wonder what is next."

Jack silently reflected on the wise words. But he couldn't help but feel that they were abandoning their friend. _There were so many of those black, armoured vehicles! There must be thousands of rebels and djinn!_ His thoughts raced.

After passing the last two buildings on either side of the road, which slumped like shoulders under the weight of the mournful darkness around them, they finally arrived at the perimeter of the park. The familiar glow of the gloams filling Jack's heart with hope once more.

"We best continue on on foot," Layla said.

The pair dismounted the skyjammer and walked into the park. It wasn't long before they were traversing gently across the great lawns of lamp-grass. Five minutes later they finally stopped before the great circular, metallic plate that rested in the centre of the park. The ten symbols of Lemuria glowed softly under the tree light. Instantly, Jack noticed the Atlantean symbol of the overlapping rings in the triangle was gone. In its place was a deep black hole.

"Where did it go?"

"The door is open. Someone is inside the Rising Hope."

Jack threw a confused look at Layla. "William?"

She nodded and urged him on.

Standing at the edge of the hole, Jack made out ladder rungs trailing down into the darkness below. Without a word, Layla began to descend. Jack shrugged and followed.

**CHAPTER 31: METAMORPHOSIS**

Bast and his legion of djinn charged into the Sun Garden. He had seen the lone skyjammer approaching from the west and knew instantly that this was no deserter from the battle. He knew this was the target he had to capture. The agreement he made with Kaelan and his rabble for control of the Library and his people's stolen artefacts.

"Find the Son of Thomas and bring him to me!" he growled, sending his storm-dancers in to cloak their passage. "I will make sure he is conscious enough to serve Kaelan's purpose before dying."

A wall of dirt and sand blew around the djinn as they ran eagerly into the gloam trees, searching for Jack and Layla. The light of the garden dimmed slightly under their dirt cloud.

Ramose ran along side the other djinn. He had secretly joined their ranks during the scuffle with Rykar's men and was positioned just behind Bast. His cloak's deep cowl covering his identity, the young warrior hoped to assassinate the despot leader when the opportunity showed itself.

I hope Jack and the others made it out of here. I don't understand why they would come to the gardens during the battle. Perhaps... there is something of great importance here. But what?

Then Ramose felt someone watching him, and fear of discovery heightened his adrenaline. Slowly turning his head as he ran, Ramose saw a hooded djinn staring at him a stone's throw away. He gripped his staff firmly and prepared himself for a sudden attack. Waited for the unknown djinn to recognise who he was and yell a warning to Bast. He would be set upon in the blink of an eye, and executed there and then by his own people. Ramose swallowed hard, and waited. Neither happened. Instead, the djinn nodded to him, and appeared to give him a signal with his hands that he was on his side. Then the hood of the mysterious man lit up from two glowing eyes, revealing the pale face of the Nysaean called Cloak.

Ramose gasped.

Cloak's voice spoke suddenly in his head. _I can hear your thoughts. There is no need to tell me why you are here, I know you are an enemy of Bast. I know you want his blood._

_Yes, I do. He destroyed my family._ Ramose replied bitterly.

Then let us take them by surprise, before Bast can stop the Rising Hope! Stop our friends!

_I will follow your lead_. The djinn's said with grim determination.

At the bottom of the ladder, William waited for them in the cockpit of the Rising Hope, dressed in a white tunic, leather-banded gauntlets and brown leather pants in the fashion of his people. Jack noticed the craftsmanship of the ship was very similar to the Silversong but much more refined in detail, as if it had been built much later. Pictograms of epic sea and sky battles were gold etched in the ceiling and gloam-orbs were fitted in alcoves in the walls, illuminating the dazzling scenes. The Rising Hope was a larger ship than anything Jack had seen—including the ones he saw in his father's hangar—and the three doors leading out of the cockpit to its other parts below made him guess just how big it really was. The pilot's circlet rested on Will's brow, glittering in the gloam-light.

"Took you long enough," the handsome Hy-Bresailian jested, winking at the pair.

"You left the hatch wide open, Will!" Layla growled, slapping his arm with affectionate aggression. "You know The Library is under siege!"

"I had to leave it open for you, otherwise I would have had to wait around until you showed up. And I haven't flew in the Rising Hope in many years; the machine needs recalibration!"

"I'll recalibrate your head!"

"Guys," Jack intervened, "What if Mathias doesn't catch up with us? What do we do then?"

The blonde-haired man stood up from the pilot's chair and turned his eerily blue eyes on Jack. "The general told me that I would take the mantle of commander. He said..." Will's voice trailed away—uncertainty and sadness lingering in his voice. "He said that if he didn't arrive with you and Layla that he wasn't coming with us. That we would have to go on without him."

"No," Layla said, ignoring the pain in the eyes of her fellow alurai. "I won't accept that. He is like a father to us, Will. We can't leave him here. Kaelan will kill him!"

"Mathias hasn't been killed yet."

"What does that mean?" she asked angrily.

"In all the years that Mathias has lived, in all the wars he has survived from, he has never fallen. Not once. I believe in him, Layla. I believe that he will never pass into the Beyond, until his task is done."

There was a moment of silence, then Layla said in a hoarse whisper, "There are never assurances in this world, cousin. Mathias is a lucky arrow who has flown far and straight. But he may have hit his last bullseye. I saw the uncountable army racing down that road. Kapri-arks full of djinn sand-dancers and Dark Tide rebels. He can't stop all of them. We have to go back and get him. Save him!"

"And risk that army you spoke of? Risk the mission? No!" Will turned back to the pilot's chair. Jack had never seen the jovial man so serious and so adamant with his instructions. "We must prepare to leave."

"Will!" Layla shouted, pulling him around to face her.

The ground suddenly shook as an explosion somewhere above their heads went off.

"They're here!" Jack cried, unsheathing his glaive.

"The hatch!" Will shouted, rousing Layla to her senses. She disappeared up the ladder before he could argue that he was going to go.

A few minutes later, Layla returned with a concerned look.

"What is it?" Jack asked.

"Djinn. Swarms of them." Layla answered. "I think I saw Bast in the field above us. The explosion did not come from his men though, as I saw dead djinn near the hatch. I couldn't see who they were fighting because of the sandstorm they've summoned."

"Perhaps Mathias made it after all," Jack said, hopefully.

"We will find out sooner than later," Will replied and turned his thoughts to the archaic controls before him. When his mind-link was established, Will focused his thoughts on the psychic-charged diamond that controlled the ship's levitation somewhere deep in the hull.

The Rising Hope hummed to life.

Ramose ran through the sandstorm that had been summoned by the sand-dancers with Cloak not far to his left. The silhouettes of Bast and his personal bodyguards blotted the horizon ahead. Behind them the bulk of the army was spread out amongst the trees. Ghostly figures moving swiftly from gloam to gloam.

They had just stepped onto the central field of the park, where the lamp-grass glowed faintly through the sandstorm, when the teenager pulled a metallic sphere from out of his desert garbs and hurled it with incredible strength and accuracy at the backs of Bast and his entourage. Landing ten feet on the turf next to them, the explosion shook the ground and a column of fire shot into the sky, brightening the field for a brief moment. The lamp-grass in the explosion's radius writhed in a supercharged surge of electricity that eventually faded to black. When the smoke cleared and Ramose approached the blast-point, Bast's body wasn't amongst the dead.

Then a shadow flit to his right and Ramose spun to face it. Nothing. He began to spin his staff around in slow, lazy circles, anticipating an attack.

Another shadow loomed behind him, his senses prickled, and he turned quickly to face... _Cloak!_

Calm yourself, boy. Bast survived that bomb of yours, but I think he is wounded. The army behind us has slowed its advance, but have fanned out. They will find us soon enough!

Where has Layla and Jack gone?

Look over there.

The teenager turned and saw a shadow on the ground. In the hazy sandstorm he understood it to be a hole.

_A way down._ Cloak's voice hissed like the wind around them.

Those storm-dancers need to be killed to stop their smokescreen.

There are four of them. Leave it to me.

Ramose nodded and Cloak disappeared into the gloom of the storm. Turning his attention back to the hole he suddenly saw the looming figure of Bast standing over him. The giant djinn leader limped forward on a wounded leg and slashed at the teenager with his twin scimitars.

"The traitor shows himself!" the crazed djinn screamed.

Ramose flung his staff up and caught both downward swipes. Using all his strength, he pushed the attack away and kicked Bast in the chest, sending him reeling backwards. The giant stumbled, then found his feet and launched forward with a more focused attack. His blades whirling in lightning-fast synchronicity. Ramose spun his staff into the blur of blades and knock back as many of the attacks as he could, and ducked and dodged the rest. A sudden slash on his shoulder that sent a splatter of blood against one of Bast's blades sent the teenager leaping backwards. Biting back the pain, Ramose grimaced and started to spin his weapon around in his whirlwind dance. The sand in the air sucking into a vortex around his body.

"A young storm-dancer hoping to beat his master," Bast laughed. "Come young warrior, summon the biggest storm you can! Your salt will still return to the desert!"

Then in answer, Bast swung the hilts of his scimitars together, causing a resounding clash of steel as the weapons joined. The curved swords suddenly fanned out like large peacock feathers, revealing their multi-blades. Grinning darkly, the giant began his own storm dance that mimicked Ramose's.

Soon both tornadoes were spinning furiously towards each other.

The gloam-vines that encircled the pillars around the Chamber of Lore had been poisoned by djinn scouts. They had been sent out to blind the approach of the rebels and kill anyone they found on the Great Road. Now that their work was done, they waited patiently for the command to advance on the last bastion of resistance against their master.

Lemurian soldiers and chamber guards gathered grim-faced against the dark, awaiting the return of Oreus. There were hundreds of them pressed shoulder to shoulder on the front lawn of the chamber, their weapons in hand. They saw the last pillar go black and heard the last sounds of battle towards the city finally die to an uncomfortable silence. From what little news they received, the army did not count on seeing Mathias or Rykar again. Their hope going out one by one like the flames of candles against the wind of an oncoming storm.

Kaelan stood on the balcony overlooking the lawn. He wore the High Librarian's reef of silverfire leaves on his head and his body was shrouded in his black cloak. A claw-ringed hand clung to the railing, squeezing tightly, his fingers paling. A twisted madness was in his eyes, and a dark brooding hatred in his heart that was quelled only by his iron-cast will and determination. Below him, Mathias' army waited. Silhouettes in the dark, murmuring doubt and fear to the wind. Hands gripping glaives and spears in anticipation.

"Hark, brothers and sisters!" the rebel leader cried, finally revealing himself and bringing the soldiers' attention to the balcony. A sea of voices expressed surprised awe, followed by shouts of anger. "Listen! Listen to me! Your leader is dead!"

"The traitor returns!" a voice shouted from the crowd.

"He must have killed Oreus!" another cried.

"Kill him!" came yet another.

"Please! My fellow Lemurians! People from Atlantis, Hy-Bresail, Avalon, and all the other lands of our most lustrous empire, hear me!"

The temperament of the crowd did not give Kaelan the dignity of silence to hear his plea. Anticipation turned to fierce threats of reprisal.

"Kill him!" one man with a long, braided beard bellowed, taking charge of the army who raised their weapons high in the air. There were sea-shells, beads and small bronze Atlantean talismans that decorated his braids, and his silver hair whipped about when he moved like ethereal serpents. A knotted brow and tense jaw darkened an otherwise proud and regal face. In his hands he held a long spear with three rings suspended by spokes along the weapon's haft, identifying him as a Auralar Knight. "Shoot him from his perch!"

"Silence!" Kaelan screamed with a voice that was amplified by his psychic-energy. It sounded as if the words he spoke were deep like thunder and with many layers. His eyes were pinpoints of white light and they bore down on the army, seeking out the defiant ones that shone back. With each face he looked upon, they eventually fell quiet and did not speak. The darkness of the cavern seemed to grow, until finally he said, "I have not come to conquer you; but to liberate you. For too long you have lived under this roof of stone!" His hands flung up in emphasis. "For too long you have worried about the whim of those who have inherited this world. We are not craven, we are not defeated. We are the forefathers of this modern age. The gods they prayed to in their old religions. We are the kingmakers and the kingbreakers. We should be sitting on their high seats, not wallowing in their sewers!

Then he spat and went silent. Kaelan's shadow seemed to grow bigger and his eyes were almost brighter than the sun. Full of anger, full of righteousness. "I will give you a chance. Give your children a chance. Side with the Dark Tide and we will restore your honour, restore your greatness! Turn your back on us and... die in the shadows."

A mournful horn resounded in the dark, which was taken up by several more and suddenly a great host of Dark Tide rebels and djinn marched out of the wall of darkness surrounding the Chamber of Lore. Some of the rebels wore Nysaean war-masks that resembled horrible water-demons, and carried long, cruel spears; and others wielded wind-hammers—weapons that could channel echokinesis—and great, razor-edged shields that could be thrown in battle. Also, a convoy of captured kapri-arks from Zerzura hovered down the Great Road and stopped before the Fathers of Osiria. Kaelan's army outnumbered the Library army three to one.

"We have come back from exile! Come to free you from the bondage that Oreus and Aramathaeus forced upon you all. Even the wayward Toram helped build and preserve your prison. Now is the time, brothers and sisters... Children of Lemuria. Now is the time of our reckoning. Who will stand with me? Who?"

The Auralar Knight, who stood before the Library army as the instigator of their wrath, looked at the dark forces surrounding his folk, then stepped back in line with the others. "Never!" he shouted. "You're responsible for the ransack of our city! Why should we follow you? No... take your rabble and leave, Kaelan, Great Betrayer! I will die with the old guard!"

"Hear! Hear!" the Lemurian army cheered, and two Kratoth Knights suddenly appeared, bare-chested and displaying their gold bands. They grabbed the Auralar's fists and raised them in the air in a form of salute, bringing the cheer to a tumultuous cry for victory.

Kaelan's face threw scorn at the Auralar Knight and he then waved an arm directly below him. "Those who do not wish death, step forward!"

There was silence. Hesitation. Then finally a lone figure ran from the army towards the wall of the Chamber of Lore under a barrage of jeers and threats.

"Deserter! Deserter!" the crowd shouted.

Then another three broke for the wall. Unfortunately, one—a scared, young Avalonian man—was impaled by a soldier's hurled spear and died instantly. Using the distraction of the deserter's death, a group of twenty or more barged forward and ran after the other two.

"Hold your glaives!" the bearded warrior shouted, lifting a hand in the air. "Do not slay your brothers! Let them bargain with the Betrayer at their own risk!"

When the last of the deserters reached the wall of the chamber, the front doors opened and several rebels ushered them inside. The doors then slammed shut and were locked.

"Your choice has been made," Kaelan said, shaking his head in disappointment. "Now you will pay the price for your insolence. Your foolish pride!"

The rebels and djinn charged at the last resistance of the Library like a mighty tide washing over a sand castle. Like hundreds of ants over the carcass of a small bird.

"For Lemuria!" the bearded warrior took up the last call for arms. "For Lemuria!"

Cloak dispatched the last of the storm-dancers with a poisoned dart from his blowpipe. The djinn's body dropped from its levitating position unceremoniously to the ground with his storm summoning staff.

The haze of dirt and sand began to fall to the earth, settling on the lamp-grass and gloams, and the djinn warriors hiding amongst the trees were suddenly visible.

Hands rummaging in a leather satchel on his belt, Cloak finally withdrew a small shard of a red gem—what was left of the Doom Stone shard that he had used on Gha'haram in the Southlake woods. He had managed to find it when no one was watching him and secreted it away from the prejudices of the others. Its power whispered to him from his palm like an insidious voice from the pit of his darkest nightmares. It whispered of power that could be his. Power that would be his if he only...

Looking up, the Samatar saw djinn warriors running from the tree line of the field straight at him. He was their new target. Cloak was out numbered, he could not kill them all. They would find the others in the Rising Hope and, without Mathias, would slaughter them all. He could not let that happen. Not on his blood-oath.

_Yes! Yes!_ The stone sung eagerly to him. _Use me! Use my power! Let us merge into one!_

Dropping to his knees, Cloak slammed the shard into his forehead with all his might and screamed in immense pain as it pierced his flesh. The cavern seemed to shake with his cry as the red stone—even after his hands had dropped away—began to drill deeper into his head. Drilling through his flesh and into the bone of his skull...

The djinn saw Cloak writhing on the ground in fits of pain. Screaming like a madman. He was being further tortured by the sting of the lamp-grass as his violent thrashing ripped them out. They stopped and watched in horror as the Nysaean curled up in a whimpering ball and pleaded for death. Then after one more convulsion... he lay still.

Cautiously approaching, the djinn warriors held their curved scimitars at arms length in front of them. Fear was on their faces and in the trembling of their hands. They did not know what had happened to Cloak and did not want to face the same fate.

A dark shadow suddenly gathered around the still form of Cloak, and his ashen face lit up from a red spiderweb of light that streaked out from a bloody stone protruding from his forehead. His eyes, as black as night shot open and the djinn gasped and took several steps backward.

The body of the Nysaean, which they swore was dead only moments before, spasmed as if the lamp-grass was still shocking it. A horrible laughter then followed. A deep croaky laughter that rumbled in Cloak's chest and burst out of his cracked lips, spewing black tar-like liquid all over the ground.

"What is it?" a djinn cried in horror and disgust.

"I-I think it is undead. Or a demon!"

"A Revenant!" another cried. "It is a Slave of Meztor!"

Cloak lurched to his feet like a marionette pulled up by its strings and turned his baleful gaze at the crowd of spectators. "Now you will all die!" he hissed his threat through a black-liquid smeared mouth. His voice sounded as if it were many with varying pitches.

Two thirds of the djinn ran screaming back the way they had come, while the braver few held their ground, somewhat reluctantly.

Swirling black mist spun around Cloak's body like a living shadow. Then, as it swirled faster and faster around him, the Nysaean began to grow in stature. His body stretched twenty feet tall: a hideous giant whose flesh ripped into sinewy strands, revealing blackened bone beneath. His skull-like head howled like a blood-hungry wolf and the shadow tendrils around him swayed and curled like the tentacles of an octopus.

One djinn tested his steel against the Revenant by slashing at one of the shadow tendrils. It instantly snaked around the sword and the djinn's arm, then pulled the man screaming into Cloak's cold embrace. The sound of djinn's spine cracking like deadwood resounded in the air and its lifeless body dropped to the ground, its flesh dissolving into dust. A pile of bones fell at the Revenant's feet. It had devoured his life essense.

The last djinn ran.

The two tornadoes crashed into each other. Staff and swords delivering a flurry of blows, both attempting to find a weakness in the other's defences. At times the staff would crack a rib or almost disjoint a kneecap, while the sword kept making numerous cuts across the other's body, a little deeper with each slash.

Levitating above the ground, both djinn warriors used their hands and feet as well to deadly effect. Kicks and punches that broke skin and almost bones.

When Ramose felt he was about to gain the upper hand with a devastating jab to the giant's head, Bast rolled around the blow and grabbed his young adversary by the throat with surprising reflexes and threw him to the ground. This instantly broke the vortex of sand that spun conically around the djinn. Ramose landed on his right shoulder, jarring it, and causing his staff to fly from his grip.

Bast's tornado spun towards him menacingly, his blades flying out of the sand.

Ramose climbed to his feet as fast as he could and began to limp away from the oncoming attack. But he was worn out, drained of all his strength; and without his staff he was also defenceless. The teenager dropped to his hands and knees and began to crawl. Instantly his injured shoulder gave way and he fell face first into a patch of lamp-grass. Their lights glared in his eyes and he felt the storm of Bast baring down on him.

A shadow blacker than night suddenly loomed above both Ramose's prone position and Bast's descending tornado. Claws as sharp as blades slashed at Bast from out of the darkness and cut into the djinn's back. The leader screamed in pain and fell to the ground, crashing not far from Ramose. His body rolled a few times then lay sprawled on the edge of the silver circle.

"No one can stop me! No one!"

Ramose recognised the voice. It was Cloak's... but somehow not his voice. "Erin!" he shouted into the dark mass, while struggling to his feet. "What have you done?"

"A little modification, boy," Cloak thundered in his multi-pitched voice. "Now quickly, enter the hole in the ground. It will take you inside the Rising Hope."

"But, I can't!" the djinn replied, distress in his voice.

"Why not? Don't be a fool!"

"I have to find Eleena and find out what happened to Vesphaeon. I saw them escape Bast before he killed Rykar. I can't let anything happen to her!"

The giant skeleton flickered as if drifting between reality and some other dimension. Its hideous face contemplating the scenario Ramose had just given him. Then he finally answered, "Fair enough. But I will set you another task as well. You must rally the remnants of the Library who are still loyal to Oreus and help him reclaim our city! Find some of your friends in the top world if you must."

The djinn nodded at Cloak's disembodied form. "I will," he swore with fierce conviction. "Good luck with the quest. I will see you here once the Crown of Dreams is destroyed."

"That you will, Ramose son of Ammon, that you will."

Then the giant horror that was Cloak turned and ran thunderously towards the hatch in the middle of the giant silver circle. It seemed to shed layers of shadow as it moved, and quickly took on the pale figure of Cloak once more. The ground suddenly shook, and his semi-corporeal form reeled back like smoke from a chimney. Looking down, Cloak saw the giant circle beneath his feet beginning to turn... and lift out of the ground!

The hatch in the centre of the circle closed with a resounding _clang!_

**CHAPTER 32: RISING HOPE**

Mathias, stripped of his Gaianar armour and glaive, was dragged before the Fathers of Osiria, chained inside a cage. The great statues looked down on him without pity; their faces frozen in vigil sleep.

His swollen eyes flickered open and gazed upon the pile of dead Library soldiers heaped before the steps of the Chamber of Lore. Familiar faces, some friends, men and women who had served him during the Fall, all looking back in lifeless agony. There were three Order Knights among the dead too, one Auralar and two Kratoth—but from the numerous rebel bodies laying around them, Mathias surmised the enemy had also taken a great lose. Rage suddenly caused through his veins, and he screamed against the gag in his mouth. Screamed for the sacrifice his army had made for his people. Screamed for their families, for their vengeance.

"Up here, old friend!" spoke a voice suddenly from up high, pulling him from his sorrow.

The general lifted his head and looked upon the shadowy figure of Kaelan standing proudly like a ship's figurehead on the chamber's balcony. Seeing his old friend, he didn't flinch. His old enemy. Mathias already knew the rebel would be waiting for him.

Then he saw the silverfire reef on Kaelan's brow, and he silently made a prayer for Oreus.

"It is strange that we find ourselves here, like this. I didn't expect to come back here. You know, after the war in Avalon, after we almost tore that city to pieces, I thought you would have known better than to have resurrected another secret city. I was hoping that maybe you and your followers would have finally joined us and made a move to claim back the lands of our people."

You know, the gag is redundant for people like us, Kaelan.

"I know, I know," the rebel leader laughed in an erratic manner. "I just like having the ability to hear myself talk, when all I have ever done is listen to you talk. You and Toram. But not any more—"

What did you do with Oreus? Kill the only person who ever cared about you.

Kaelan's strange mirth disappeared and his face darkened. He leaped over the balcony rail, floating to the ground with arms widespread and eyes trailing white fire. He looked like an angel.

When he landed before Mathias' cage, a djinn warrior unlocked its door to let him in. Kaelan stalked up to his prisoner and punched the general hard in the stomach several times, smashing the air from his lungs. "Don't you ever bring that name up in my presence again! Do you hear me, _general?_ "

Mathias, blinking in and out of consciousness, refused to nod in a fashion that said he understood. His unwavering Atlantean stubbornness and pride kept him stoic like a rock. _Why do you keep me alive?_

"Because it is a gesture of my generosity to the people of this fair city. I will not martyr you just yet. You have to tell me where Thomas' son is first. Tell me where the little worm is hiding."

You know that I will die for that information, Kaelan.

"I don't need your death to find me his location," the Dark Tide rebel said, pulling out the Akashic Eye from under his cloak. Mathias stirred uncomfortably; and seeing this, Kaelan smiled sinisterly. "You know what this is, don't you? I just need your memories and the boy's location will be mine..."

"My lord!" a rebel shouted from the darkness, breaking Kaelan's concentration. "Djinn scouts report that Bast and his forces were defeated in the Sun Garden! They say that a ship has emerged from the ground!"

"What ship?" Kaelan demanded, turning his attention to the runner. "Who is—Thomas' son! A distraction, Mathias? Is that what you were doing. Well, now I know the truth. I will not let the boy escape."

_It is too late, old friend._ Mathias' thoughts said confidently. _All this time the Rising Hope has been preparing to leave. The Son of Thomas will never be yours._

Kaelan swallowed that thought bitterly, turned and punched Mathias' already beaten body again and again and again until the man passed out.

"Send the warhawks," he finally said to the waiting messenger through laboured breaths. Kaelan did not turn to face him. "Cripple their ship and pry that boy from the wreckage. I do not care if he is half-dead!"

"Yes, my lord!" came back the answer, and the sound of feet hurried away.

_I will have you yet, Jack._ The rebel leader thought, turning and walking away from Mathias as if he wasn't even there. Kaelan's dark obsession for the Crown of Dreams consumed him like a hungry void that could never be filled. The taint of madness it was inflicting on him was tearing his mind to pieces...

"William!" Layla shouted over the rumble of the Rising Hope's psychic-charged Heart—a gigantic diamond that gave the ship its ability to levitate and move in sync with the pilot's mind—throbbing to life. "There's something trying to pry the hatch open—its Cloak!"

_Open the hatch, fools!_ Cloak's angry mind-voice resounded in their thoughts.

"I heard him too," the Hy-Bresailian said, not pulling his eyes away from the control panel in front of him. His hands deftly glided above the panel, pulling switches and turning nobs. "Give me a sec—"

"She's gone," Jack said, tapping Will on the shoulder.

Sparing a glance over his shoulder, the pilot found her seat empty and saw a flash of boots disappear up the ladder. "Stubborn woman!" He laughed, then turned to Jack. "Strap yourself in, this is going to be a bumpy ride!"

Layla heaved the circle hatch open and a spiral of black shadow rushed passed her, like water swirling down a sink. When she looked down, the ethereal shadow had transformed into an opaque figure. Cloak looked up the ladder and locked eyes with Layla. Her heart stopped. Two black orbs looked back from a horridly pale face; and the tip of a red stone protruded from his forehead, a bloody scab forming around its circumference. "Cloak?" she whispered.

The Nysaean's face suddenly reflected an old familiar expression: impatient arrogance. Tearing his eyes away from Layla, he stalked over to Will. "When are you going to get this bucket of bolts moving? It won't be long before the djinn reform beyond the garden and return for another attack!"

"I'm doing the best I can—Cloak! What is that in your forehead? Is that a Doom Stone shard?" Will gasped.

"I'm a Revenant now, dear friend. Something I have loathed and hated all of my life." He seemed to falter, took a ragged breath and continued. "The very creature that killed my father. A Slave of Meztor. But... there was nothing I could do. I had to sacrifice myself to protect you meandering morons. You practically led Bast to the ship!"

"I didn't know we were followed, Cloak," Layla challenged his accusation with an edge in her voice. She took the last step off the ladder and walked over to him, standing close enough to inspect the wound on his forehead. The blood drained from her face, and Layla reached out to touch the spike of red stone protruding from his flesh that glowed softly.

Cloak reeled away from Layla's hand and stumbled against a wall. He suddenly seemed disorientated, and began waving his hands in front of his face as if swatting away invisible adversaries. "Don't touch me!" He cried in a mixture of anger and pain.

"Erin!" Will shouted, turning from his controls and half rising from his chair.

"Stay at the helm!" Layla commanded, pointing at the cockpit's window, which was slowly revealing the surrounding garden as the ship rose out of the ground. "Jack and I will take care of him, you focus on getting us out of here."

Jack moved slowly towards Cloak who, in his deep delirium, looked like a wild animal that had been cornered.

"Erinaeus," Layla said his full name, "its going to be okay. What happened up there?"

"I-I had to make the change... the metamorphosis." His eyes were black again. Deep pools of midnight. "I crave... flesh. I need life. I need to eat!"

"Stay away from him, Jack!" Layla shouted, lifting a hand to stop his advance. "He is going through the Revenant hunger. They need the living tissue of other creatures to rejuvenate their—" she hesitated before saying, "—decaying bodies."

Cloak screamed again and toppled over, writhing in pain on the ground.

"For the sake of the Ancients!" Will cried in desperation. "Do something for him!"

"I'm trying!" Layla looked worried and confused as she knelt beside Cloak, uncertain of what to do. Then he stopped moving, and for a moment she thought he might be dead; however the rising and falling of his chest brought a sigh of relief from her lips. "You fool, you fool," she whispered. She attempted to touch his face again, but her skin suddenly began to ripple and pull—by some invisible force—towards the Revenant's sinewy flesh that was separating in strands. She recoiled, yanking her hand back. "There's nothing I can do!"

"What about one of the dead djinn on the field?" Jack suggested, wide-eyed, keeping his distance.

Layla looked like she was about to refute his idea, then her face dropped into realisation. "You are brilliant, Jack. Wait here. I will try and get one."

"Do you want me to stop?" Will asked from the pilot's chair, not turning away from the fast shrinking landscape of the park before him. "Or land again?"

"Just hover over the field for a bit!" Layla said, leaping up the rungs of the ladder. "I will levitate one up!"

The sound of metal grinding against metal resounded as the gigantic circle of Lemurian symbols, which had rested undisturbed in the field of grass for decades, suddenly split down the centre and both sides of the plate pulled back into the turf, revealing a hidden docking bay. The Rising Hope emerged from the ground like the morning sun above the horizon: an orange glow heralding its ascension.

A roar of wind thundered across the trees' canopy as the airship crested the Sun Garden and remained hovering—a black shadow engulfing the field like the descent of night. Its armour was gold and red and the ship itself was shaped like a mythical dragon; huge mechanical wings extended outwards, absorbing the glow of the park's gloam light. The Rising Hope's own light came from dozens of diamonds glittering from its hull and wings, reflecting the colours of the ship's metal in a ghostly aura. A glass dome rested in the brow of the dragon's cyclopean head—the cockpit. Below the body was a cog-jointed tail that dangled eighty feet long, ending in a huge trident. It, like the other parts of the ship, was controlled by the pilot's mind-link to the Heart.

Will was one with the Rising Hope. Much like when he flew the Silversong, he had merged his consciousness with the ship's Heart. When the link was made he found himself, like always, somewhat distant from the cockpit and his own body. The psychic bridge spread his mind out to the Heart and then to the various other diamond nodes throughout the ship. The strategically placed nodes allowed Will to completely control the reflexes and movement of the ship as if they were nerves. Using levitation and flight was as simple as pushing one's thoughts deep into the Heart's stored power and then exerting outwards, pushing in the direction one wanted to propel the ship.

_Warhawks._ Will thought, and the Rising Hope's hull trembled, reacting to his anticipation. He had felt their approach as soon as they had entered the Sun Garden. Five of them, all from the landing fields. The Atlantean fighters had been scavenged from the sea many years ago by the Library and used for reconnaissance missions in the desert. A little larger than the Silversong, the warhawks were outfitted with marika cannons on each wing: long metal pipes that contained a myriad of mirrors and psychically-charged diamond nodes to channel energy blasts at the pilot's adversaries.

Stretching out his thoughts, Will located Layla. She was standing above the hatch on top of the dragon's head, her gaze cast down upon the dead djinn sprawled on the field below, searching for a body for Cloak's dark hunger. His unconscious friend needed to regenerate from the tissue of another organic being—the curse of the Revenant demanded it. Will hated what Cloak had become; as much, he surmised, as how Cloak must have felt towards himself.

_There has to be another way!_ He shouted desperately in Layla's thoughts. _We cannot be so barbaric!_

_There is no other way._ Layla replied grimly and reached out her psychic hands, dragging a dead djinn up into the air from where Ramose's bomb had exploded.

Shaking the thoughts of despair away, Will turned his attention to the first of the Atlantean fighters flying straight at them from out of the dark. The gold warhawk flew like a lightening bolt, sending the top leaves of the gloams into a spiralling vortex along its flight path. When it was above the field its marika canons unleashed a blast of psychic-fire at the Rising Hope.

_They're here!_ Will's thoughts warned the others, emanating from the ship as if they belonged to it. He felt Cloak stir and Jack panic. Layla's thoughts were troubled but determined, focused on the levitating body nearly in her grasp. The blast of psychic energy smashed into the dragon ship's body, exploding and sending shockwaves through it. Layla nearly lost her balance and dropped the corpse. Will reacted. The dragon head opened its jaw and returned fire from its own marika cannon. A blast of psychic energy tore through the warhawk, blowing it to pieces. Burning shrapnel rained down on the field, extinguishing the luminous glow of the lamp-grass. _One down—!_

Before Will could finish his victory mantra another two warhawks shot out of a storm of swirling leaves, firing relentlessly at the Rising Hope. Will was slow to stop the first shot, which penetrated the armour of the ship's left shoulder, causing fiery smoke to billow out of a jagged hole; but quickly absorbed the second with a psychic-shield he erected from the ship's nodes. The enemy's fire rolled harmlessly over the cockpit's dome and then dissipated. Flashing white, the nodes reacted to Will's thoughts and the dragon's mouth thundered back at the warhawks, followed by a swing of the ship's tail. Psychic-fire seriously crippled one ship, sending it spinning away from the battle, while the tail smashed through the second one, igniting it into a ball of flames. Its smouldering remains crashed into the field, setting it alight.

_Keep still, will you?_ Layla suddenly growled in Will's head. _You are turning the field into a sea of fire! I have to salvage at least one body._

_I'm trying!_ Will shot back. _You better make it quick. We have to get out of here while we still can._

Then out of the trees came the last two warhawks—in tow was the damaged one that had flown away in the previous attack. Will knew that Kaelan's retribution against deserters was a fate far worse than death.

A volley of psychic-fire hurled towards the Rising Hope.

Will—not being able to move until Layla grabbed the body—erected the shield again. Upon impact he could feel the Heart weakening as it diverted most of its power to absorbing the blasts. Another lash of the tail and one warhawk went down in a trail of fire.

The smoke from the Rising Hope's shoulder disappeared, but Will knew the damage would hamper his manoeuvrability. Sacrificing a portion of the Heart's power to the diamond nodes near the damage, he melted and sealed the metal with his thoughts as fast as he could.

_I have it!_ Layla said just as the blast hole was melted shut. Will felt the Atlantean reenter the ship with a djinn in her arms. The hatch closed behind her; he moved into action. The Rising Hope soared further up above the garden until it almost reached the roof of the cavern, then it descended upon the remaining warhawks. Its wings retracted in, giving it more speed. The damaged fighter that had returned to battle wasn't fast enough to avoid the attack and was blown to pieces by the dragon ship's firepower.

Swerving left and right, the last two warhawks split up and circled away from the Rising Hope, disappearing into the smoke from the burning rubble of their fallen comrades.

Two giant mechanical claws unfolded from underneath the Rising Hope's body, ready to absorb the ship's impending impact. Moments before it looked like they would hit the ground at full speed, Will pulled the ship up out of its collision course. He levelled it above the treetops, flying after one of the warhawks that had become visible. The smaller ship suddenly did a u-turn and flew back at the Rising Hope, firing indiscriminately. Will leaned to the right and whipped the trident-tipped tail to the left, destroying the ship as it flew into the weapon's path.

_One left._ Will thought, feeling the weariness of the battle begin to weigh on him. The Heart was not depleted yet, but the power was quickly draining from the diamond core, which in turn had physical implications on him. The link between him and the ship was absolute. Should the ship be destroyed while he was fully immersed...

Out of the black oily smoke flew the last warhawk. It fired at the Rising Hope's right flank, taking Will by surprise. Psychic-fire ignited the right wing in flames, causing significant damage. The ship lurched and then lost its balance momentarily, dipping into the top branches of the gloam canopy and sending a cloud of leaves into the air. Will, however, managed to pull the ship back up just as it was about to have a near-fatal crash into a tight knot of trees. Swerving towards the field, he pushed the Heart with all his power, increasing the ship's speed, and then set the nodes on the wing to absorb the fire before it spread. The last lick of flames was gone when the warhawk flew back into Will's sight again. The Rising Hope opened fired, but the Dark Tide pilot managed to duck and weave between all the blasts, unscathed.

_They're good._ Will thought. _But why aren't they flying out of my path?_

Another thunder from the Rising Hope's marika shook the canopy. The warhawk spiralled around the blast and kept flying.

_It's trying to crash into us!_ Will exclaimed. The Heart was almost spent. He could feel the connection between it and his mind breaking. The ethereal anchors snapping. Not being able to risk using the cannon, raising a shield or exerting the trident tail and losing the last of the ship's power, Will pulled the last of the psychic energy from the nodes back into the Heart. _It is now or never._ He thought desperately.

Then the warhawk opened fire at the Rising Hope.

Will seemed unconscious in his deep submersed state with the ship's Heart. Only the flicker of his eyes showed that he was alive. A silvery blue spiderweb of light glowed under the surface of his temples like lightening above the ocean. His eyes also glowed behind their lids.

Layla carried the dead djinn over to Cloak. Jack could barely watch what was unfolding. Cloak was now a shrivelled, twisted husk of a man. His face was skeletal, and his eyes were still as black as midnight. The poisonous power of the Doom Stone shard held its grip on him tightly; his body eating itself.

The ship suddenly lurched to the right. Jack stumbled and was pushed forcefully against the wall, and Layla fell backwards, dropping the body. After a violent series of shakes, the ship finally righted itself and began to level out.

"May the Ancients guide you back," Layla said as she scrambled to her feet and dragged the djinn over to Cloak. His face was cracked and dissolving by the second, revealing more of his skull beneath. Not giving in to the anguish she felt inside, Layla clasped the djinn's limp fingers with Cloak's and stood up, taking a few paces back. "Jack, look away!" she commanded.

But it was too late. Jack could not pull his gaze away from the horror. He remembered Gha'haram draining the tree back in the Southlake woods and felt he was reliving that horrible scene once again. This time, however, it was happening to one of his friends.

A red light pulsed from the Doom Stone shard and shimmered along Cloak's fingers. When it reached the djinn's hand, the dead man's flesh seemed to lose all of its moisture, darken and dry out faster than Cloak's own decaying body. Less than a minute later and the djinn was nothing more than brittle bones and grey dust. Jack bit his fist and pulled away from the scene, a swell of sickness stirring in his stomach.

Black tendrils suddenly lashed out from Cloak's body like living shadows and snaked around the bones absorbing them whole as well.

"Curses!" Layla hissed, crouching low in a battle-stance, her glaive unsheathed. Jack hurried to her side with his own in hand.

No attack came however. The shadow tendrils whipped about in the air with no particular intent and then quickly withdrew back into the crumpled figure of Cloak. After a moment of silence the Samatar groaned softly.

"Erin!" Jack was the first to rush to his side, not fearing the newly made Revenant. He knelt down and saw the flesh restored to his friend's face. The black pools were gone; shrunk back to their normal pupil size. His breaths were deep and slow and it was if he had come out of a long sleep. "I thought you were going to die..."

The Samatar climbed up on his elbows and looked from Jack to Layla. "It will take more than a handful of djinn to kill me. This mission was set upon my shoulders—like the rest of you—by Mathias to complete. And I will see that it is done lest the might of all Osiria and Rama bury me." Cloak nodded a silent thank you to Layla for saving his life.

Layla reached out a hand to her companion. Even though their friendship was often turbulent, Cloak's loyalty to Mathias was something she shared. A smile crept slowly on her lips. "Welcome back, Erinaeus."

Cloak grabbed Layla's hand and climbed to his feet. As he did so, he winced, clutching at his chest. Then, looking Jack and Layla in the eye, he pulled up his black pullover underneath his leather jacket.

Jack gasped.

A large metallic, eight pointed star was buried in Cloak's chest. Dark gunmetal grey, with a red glow in the middle where the points intersected. Where the metal disappeared into his flesh, thick scarring formed along the edge, and small webs of veins were visible under pale, translucent skin.

"The, the..." Jack could not say what had been weighing on his mind since Oreus' feast.

"The Obsidian Escutcheon," Cloak rasped wearily, leaning against a wall. "The very same. Taken from the body of Meztor Tae'am himself."

Before anyone could say anything more, the ship suddenly shook and a roar of fire consumed the cockpit's dome...

He had been trained his entire life on how to pilot the Rising Hope. Learned the 'mental weight' or feel of its psychic controls. Became familiarised with every part of the ship as if it were an extension of himself. Its first pilot, Mathias, had made sure of it. "There will come a time, Will, when I will ask you to pilot this ship beyond the city," he had said, "back to the time we once knew. Back before the Fall."

That time was now. Will reached his thoughts deep into the Heart and found a portion that had been locked by a psychic key—a memory needed to be recalled by the pilot so as to pass the barrier, otherwise defence mechanisms would see the intruder's mind destroyed. Summoning the memory, the invisible wall dissolved and Will's consciousness passed deeper into the Heart, into the Time Vault. There memories of each great century was stored. Memories taken from the planet itself. The Sorrarani had long ago learned how to read and manipulate the Aether—the Earth's memories—and contain them in devices such as the Heart. Time travel was done by triggering a particular earth memory, which would force the planet to pull the ship into the Aether and throw it back to that time.

When the Rising Hope was first built, the Sorrarani and their Gaianar Knights sacrificed many of their number in attempting to psychically travel forward in the Aether, to look into the Earth's distant future. To see what had not yet happened. This drove many mad; but those who survived used the last of their crumbling sanity to record that one great memory that would be their salvation from the Fall.

It was the memory of Jack's time that the Sorrarani had saw and captured in the Heart. The twenty-first century of man and their machines that were driven by fossil fuels and not by the mind. A time of tall cities made of glass and metal that sprawled across the face of the world. A time that had risen from the rubble and receding oceans of the great flood.

A memory of a great city suddenly flashed before Will's eyes. It was bigger than any city that he had seen in Jack's time, and it sat upon an island of Lemuria. Towers that rose above modern man's greatest skyscrapers, and statues mightier than the Statue of Liberty, carved from white marble, gold and silver and studded in all the precious stones of the earth.

He thought of Atlantis upon a great expanse, shouldered by mountains beyond the shores. The warmth of a full sun was on his skin, the smell of sea filled his lungs, and the sound of thousands of men and women singing praise to the High King was in his ears. The scene was palpable; yet a distant memory, unravelling inside his mind and tingling his senses. A mirage of that ancient land was taking shape and he could feel that it was only a breath away. All he had to do was let the memory consume every node in the ship, then the gateway would open. The planet would shift on its ethereal axis and pull the Rising Hope into its embrace.

The Aether—the living memory of the planet that connected all sentient minds together in a web of invisible light—would take them back. Back to the Earth before the Fall.

Will inhaled one last time taking in the salty air-filled the cockpit.

_A'tahail_. He said, speaking the word: return. _A'tahail_...

Psychic fire ravaged the head of the dragon. The warhawk fired again and again at the unprotected armour, and it flew hard and fast, unwavering from its path. Determined to crash into the Rising Hope. Determined to sacrifice itself to stop the son of Thomas from escaping into a time Kaelan could not reach him. The Dark Tide rebel would not fail his master.

Then, just as the ships were about to collide in a disastrous explosion, the Rising Hope became as transparent as a ghost and as bright as the sun. Slivers of gold light entwining and swirling into a vortex of fire. The rebel covered his eyes with an arm, but could not shield the painful glare that consumed everything. That burned his flesh and turned him to ash.

A great sound of thunder resounded in that mighty cavern and when the light was gone so was the Rising Hope.

The warhawk sailed through empty space and then fell from the sky like a shooting star, exploding into the gloams below.

Kaelan's plan for Jack was thwarted.

Flames from all the fallen warhawks consumed the Sun Garden. They ate everything, including the lamp-grass that had lit the floor of the cavern for many decades. The djinn and rebels that had come to assist Bast's assault on the Rising Hope fell back and skulked in the darkness of the surrounding city. Their faces twisted in anger and fear. They had lost their prize and they would feel Kaelan's wrath for it.

On the outskirts of the burning park, in the shadows of a lightless pillar, a silhouette of a man stood against the glare of that mighty furnace. Hands clasped a long staff to support a weariness that seemed heavier than the stones of the pillar itself. "Safe journey, my friends," Ramose said as the light of the dragon ship in the sky disappeared. "May the Ancients keep you safe. And may you find yourselves back here in one piece."

The djinn then slipped behind the pillar and disappeared into the city to fulfil the pledge he made to Cloak to save the Library.

And to discover the fate of Vesphaeon and his sister Eleena. _Yes, Eleena._ He thought as he ran through the darkness, the fires of the park roaring behind him. _That beautiful woman with those amazing blue eyes, and hands that made the softest silk seem coarse_. Eleena, a woman who he could one day fall deeply in love with... if he had not done so already. And he believed he had.

**CHAPTER 33: A LONG EARNED HOLIDAY**

"Hello Mister Whittaker," Elly said into the cellphone wedged between her right shoulder and cheek. She stood in the kitchen with Caleb and Emily, busily cleaning the last of the breakfast dishes, while James and Alora lounged on the couch playing with Jinx. "I am just letting you know that we have decided to end our lease next week."

There came a loud, irritated mumbling response from the other side, which James could not discern, but assumed it wasn't the answer his mother had expected.

"I'm sor—I'm sorry Mister Whittaker. Please give me a moment to explain. Look, I understand your stress with finding a new tenant. Especially with the _amazing_ state of the place."

James and Alora snickered behind cupped hands. Their mother's sense of humour had not changed.

When the call ended—after a few more back-and-forth between an angry, threatening landlord and a calm and cool Elly—Rowan came through the front door hoisting his leather jacket on. "Get ready, we are about to leave."

"What about all our stuff," Alora cried, "and Jinx!"

"You can take the cat. As for the rest of your belongings, just pack what you need. The rest will be sealed up in the house until we get a chance to come back and repair all the damage."

Caleb sighed a sigh of relief. Brushing a strand of sandy blonde hair out of his face he said, "I thought we had to hit the 'ol bucket and mop now that you guys buried all those... bodies."

Rowan shook his head. "No, we don't have time. If the Revenant come back in force, we might not get a chance to leave. And we need to send word to the Library."

"Cellphone?" Caleb asked, suggestively.

"Yes, we have called and left messages with the lore-kin in Alexandria. No one has answered, which is worrying me. Now we have to move."

Jai then stepped up beside Rowan. His bare, tattooed chest was visible under a jacket he had scavenged from one of the dead Revenant. "We're ready to go," he said, moving his eyes to everyone in the room.

"What about... Arajasta?" James asked, looking up at the silent roof.

"The Azlazarani is going with Jai and the Eye of Gha'haram," Rowan answered. "Back to the safety of the Trident Academy."

The boy nodded, then leaped to his feet, making for the door. "I suppose there's no more wasting time." Alora and Caleb trailed after him.

Rowan looked to Emily and said wearily, "This is going to be a long ride. We have to get to Paradise Airport and find a flight to Egypt. I can't leave Jack alone in a war zone if Kaelan is moving against the Library."

The blue-haired woman smiled and wrapped her arms around him comfortingly. "He will be okay," she whispered in his ear, stroking his long, black hair. "Mathias is with him."

"I know," Rowan said, closing his eyes for a moment to find solace in the chaos.

Rowan and Emily mounted the Suzuki Intruder and waved to the faces in the Chevy and the Grey's family van before speeding away down the long, dirt road into the trees.

"Alright," Jai said behind the wheel of the van, "are we all ready to say goodbye to Willow and Mount Spire?"

"The sooner we can get out of here the better," James said in his serious voice. He sat in the back next to his sister and mother. "I am feeling really anxious just being here."

"Gee," Caleb yawned from the passenger seat next to Jai, sticking his elbow out of his window, "what fond memories I'll be leaving behind. Vampire-like creatures that want to eat me."

"Come on, Caleb," Elly said with a soft smile. "Aren't you going to miss your mum and family?"

"Well, yeah of course. I called mum and said we'd drop by this afternoon to explain my change in universities. Said that I made a mid-term transfer—even though that is a ridiculous thing. She won't know. Mum and dad are always half-interested in what I do anyway. They'll believe anything I tell them. They said, 'as long as you come visit us every weekend.' We'll see. If this Trident Academy is as cool as Jai says it is, I'll probably visit once a month."

Elly shook her head and laughed.

"Good to see there is some humour left after that ordeal," Jai said, tilting the rearview mirror so he could see the Grey family—what was left of them. "Consider this... your long earned holiday. Rowan told me you guys wanted a holiday, well this will be it. Arthur and I will take good care of you." He smiled his charismatic smile, then winked. "I promise."

"You better," Caleb said half-jokingly. "A lore-kin's promise cannot be broken... I'm guessing."

After a brief stop in Willow for Caleb to say goodbye to his parents, the Chevy and van left the small town under a clear sky—the storm had fully passed, and the summer sun sat radiant amongst the fluffy clouds. The sandy blonde-haired teenager did not tell his companions much of what was said, only that his mum wanted him to call her when he got to Paradise. He had said that Rowan—whom his parents had met several times with Jack—was simply letting him stay with Emily and him, and that Jai was their other flatmate. The vague story seemed to work, especially when they saw Mrs Grey waving from the van window; however he had made a quick exit when they asked if he could bring everyone inside for a cup of tea.

James and Alora slept—the girl huddled against her mother with Jinx on her lap—while Caleb, drummed his fingers on the top lip of the passenger window, silently watching the trees whipping passed, lost in his own thoughts.

Arthur drove the Chevy ahead of the van, keeping at an even speed. He had taken up vanguard in case of ambushes; but the long stretch of road, the Torrent Highway, that descended Mount Spire was empty. Even Jai's sensitive telepathy found nothing of significance. A mire of animals thoughts that appeared as fuzzy, indecipherable noises filled his mind when he pried with his power. They had only spotted two cars on their descent, and the Kratoth was confident they had escaped the net of the Revenant's territory.

After twenty minutes had gone by both vehicles reached the bottom of the mountain and the road levelled out into flat country, where the trees were sparse and large square cornfields and farms stretched as far as the horizon. They had passed several farm houses close to the road when the highway split into two; a new road called Paradise Way veered to the left, while the Torrent Highway kept on towards a cluster of buildings in the distance—the town of Halifax. The black chevy and the van kept on towards Halifax.

"A few more kilometres and we'll stop for fuel and stretch our legs," Jai said to his passengers that were still lulled into half-sleep.

"Which way did Rowan and Emily go?" James murmured, his throat was croaky from lack of water.

"Paradise Way," Jai told him. "It will take them to the airport. We will turn onto that road further down, after we refuel in Halifax."

It wasn't long before Arthur pulled the chevy into a dusty old fuel station by a small paddock of cows. Jai parked the van next to the rusted husk of an old wheelless car, and everyone got out. James and Alora ran for the fuel station's outhouse, while Elly hobbled with her walking stick into the building to buy snacks and supplies for the trip. Caleb sat on a log fence that barricaded the car park, checking his cellphone for a signal.

"There won't be much coverage out here," Jai said, walking over to the teenager. "You might be forced to enjoy the company of real, living people for awhile."

Caleb sighed and tucked his phone away. "You know, I knew for years there was something up with Jack."

Jai raised a brow. "How so?"

"I don't know... I can't really explain it. I mean, at first, I thought I was hallucinating. Maybe my dad's whiskey that we nicked was making me see things; but I swear Jack did some freaky stuff when we were still in high school. Like making me levitate to the ground when I fell off a bed once. Or reading my thoughts and saying them before I had a chance to speak."

Silence passed between them for a moment before Jai sat next to Caleb. "Jack must have discovered his powers early in life."

"Maybe," Caleb said.

"I suppose he tried to hide it the best way he could, so he wouldn't hurt his loved ones or put them in danger."

Caleb nodded, then dropped his head down below his shoulders, hiding his face underneath his hair. One shoe tip carefully drew a line in the sand at his feet..

"He was also probably just as scared of it as you were."

"I was never scared," Caleb said, lifting up his head and brushing his hair out of his face. "I trust Jack with my life—sounds crazy, I know. But we have been through everything together. Girls, bullies, almost flunking school. I just knew that something was up, and I wasn't going to make a big deal out of it if he wasn't ready to tell me."

"You're a good friend." This time it was Arthur's voice. Caleb saw the lore-kin plodding up to them, holding a bundle of service station junk food in bright coloured packaging. "He couldn't have asked for anyone better."

"Maybe," Caleb laughed. "Art, do you think I can become a great lore-kin at this school? I mean, I did a Bachelor of Arts back in Willow because it required the least credentials to get accepted. Man, I just used a portfolio to get in. My grades at school sucked."

"You will do just fine, kid." Arthur smiled, freeing one hand to slap Caleb gently on the back. "From what I've seen, you can handle a glaive just swell."

"Swell," Caleb echoed the word with a sly smile. "Who even says that these days?"

Arthur laughed, put the food on the van's bonnet and grabbed the teenager in a mock headlock.

"Okay, okay, obviously people as awesome as you, Man Dragon."

The lore-kin let go of Caleb and turned to Jai. "I suppose the boy will have to choose an Order once we get back to Paradise."

"Order?" Caleb asked seriously. "What are they?"

"The Trident Academy is a great project and vision we have put together—its aim is to restore the Four Orders of Lemuria. The Gaianar, Orgonar, Auralar and Kratoth." Elly, James and Alora walked over to them and Jai waited until they were seated on the log fencing before continuing. "Gaianar use the power of Gaia the earth—however there is only one Hierarch left, Mathias Cane."

"What is a Hierarch?" Alora asked, raising her hand as if she was in class.

"It is the highest title in the Four Orders, below the Emperor's High General. There was five Gaianar Hierarch left when the Lemurian came to our time; but after the War of Avalon, only Mathias, Thomas and Kaelan remained.

James flinched at the mention of his father's name, but said nothing. His stern eyes locked on Jai.

"Kaelan betrayed the Order, so he has been striped of his honours. His armour and weapons however are still in his keeping. And with the passing of Thomas—may he rest in peace—Mathias is now the last of the Gaianar Hierarch. He is also the Emperor's High General."

"Tell us of the other Orders," Caleb asked, breaking the solemn mood that was on everyone's faces after the mention of Thomas.

"Auralar are prominently from Hy-Bresail. William, one of Mathias' students, is a Auralar Adept. They use echokinesis in their fighting, and have build amazing structures with their technology. The pyramids were the craftsmanship of Auralar."

Caleb's jaw dropped. "So... it really was aliens!"

"Not really," James rebuked softly. "If you think about it, the Lemurian are our ancestors."

"Well, you know what I mean." Caleb nodded to Jai to continue.

"Obadiah Windgate is the Hierarch of the Auralar."

"No way!" Caleb exclaimed, leaping to his feet. "You mean, my history lecturer is a Lemurian?"

Jai nodded, grinning at the teenager's excitement. "He is, and he uses an illusion band to live and work among us. Without it, his stature would cause some heads to turn."

"That's unbelievable," Caleb laughed. "I owe Professor Windgate a history assignment. Now I know his secret, I wonder if he'll let me pass."

"Doubtful," James counted. "If he is a lecturer at Willow University AND a lecturer at the Trident Academy, I doubt he would be lenient in the slightest."

"I can try." Caleb put both hands behind his head and leaned against a tree that was inches away from the fence behind him. "I'm good at blackmail."

"That isn't an honourable trait for a lore-kin, Caleb." James' stern expression showed no amusement at the other boy's antics.

"What are the other Orders?" Elly managed to squeeze in, shushing Caleb and James with the wave of her hand.

"Orgonar: Nysaean warriors who use their own life-force as a weapon. Very dangerous, but very powerful if mastered well. They believe in the purity of the soul and its ability to achieve great things without the aid of Gaia's spirit. Those who do not learn how to use it well can easily drain their very essence... and die."

There was a few gasps, and Arthur yawned. "Amateurs and the foolish," the rotund man said casually. "And we don't accept either into our academy. No one can hurt themselves with our staff."

"Then there is the Kratoth," Jai continued, "And I am the current Hierarch. My father took the position originally, then he retired it to me. I use his _vis-vereth_ which gives me the strength of many men. The bands are made from vigorium, one of the Three Great Metals from the ancient times. Where Orgonar use the spirit as a weapon, the Kratoth use the body."

"So..." Alora said slowly, "we get to choose which Order to join?"

"First you must take a few tests," Jai answered. "Then we figure out which Order would suit you best. You can make a request for a particular Order, but it will be up to the Hierarch to make the final decision."

"I wonder what I'll best suit?" Alora looked contemplative as she wound a blade of grass around one finger.

"Lets figure that out when we get there," Arthur said, "we can't linger here while there could be more trouble about. Gha'haram has spies in most of these towns, I'll bet."

"Art is right." Jai nodded to his companion and made his way back to the van. "We better leave while we still have light."

Everyone murmured their agreement and followed.

It was another hour on the road when Arajasta woke.

Why am I in this vehicle? Where are we going? Where is Rowan?

"We are taking you to Paradise," Jai stated, grinning at the awakening presence which filled the car. He felt a prickly sensation on his skin like static electricity as the Azlazarani stretched its invisible essence into every fibre of the car. "I believe we may have some relics in the Ancient History department that may help with freeing you from the Reflecting Cube."

_That would be... I would forever be in your debt, Jai Absolom, if you could do such a thing._ There was gratitude and subtle excitement in the tone of his mind-voice.

"I'm sure its possible. We have a lot of pre-Fall technology that still works."

Good. Then wake me up when we get there. After that battle with the Revenant, I feel like I could sleep another year or two.

"Not a good idea," Caleb pipped in. "You come in handy when things get hairy."

_Things_ get _hairy?_

"It means... never mind." The teenager shook his head and leaned back in his chair, trying to find a comfortable spot. Then he slowly closed his eyes. "I'm getting some shut eye, so maybe keep your telepathy down. If you don't mind."

I don't mind.

"Thanks." Then Caleb's snoring followed almost as soon as he stopped talking.

James huffed at the sound and kicked the back of Caleb's chair to silence him. There was a pause in the snore, then it continued as if nothing happened. "This is going to be a long ride," he said broodingly.

The others laughed much to the chagrin of James.

The girl ran through the trees like a woodland sprite. Her nimble feet gliding effortlessly over the rugged rocks and jagged brambles. Her tangle of blonde hair that were once braids flapped behind her like a golden flag rippling in the wind. Cold blue eyes, like sapphires, sparkled in the lowlight under the canopy, filled with insanity and dark desire. Pale pink lips contorted in a sneer that occasionally let bubbly laughter escape them.

_I will now be the master!_ Her mind raced. _I will bring all the servants of Gha'haram to me!_

Cassandra Veil knew where her dead master hid the Doom Stone. Her and her alone. She had hidden from his scrying vision when the resurrected Lemurian created a new hiding place for the great cluster of black crystals.

Caught in her own musing thoughts of grandeur, Veil didn't see the smooth rock sticking out of ground in her wake...

Slipping backwards, Veil yelped, throwing her arms out to balance her impending fall; which was stopped when she grabbed onto a nearby low-hanging branch. Two booted feet landed in a muddy puddle that splashed up the sides of Veil's legs and onto the hem of her skirt. Turning disgustedly at her soiled stockings, the girl brushed down her black skirt onto her legs with both hands. But that only seemed to spread the mud.

Like a banshee enraged, Veil's shrieked into the air, scarring a murder of crows to take flight. Her previous amusement gone from her pale, beautiful face.

"Why couldn't Gha'haram keep the Doom Stone somewhere a little cleaner. Perhaps somewhere in town! Curse his rotted carcass!"

Then her soft innocence returned, smoothing the creases in her face.

"Never mind, a little dirt is a small price to pay for ultimate power." She laughed to herself, then began to walk cautiously towards a land rise several feet away, shrouded by a thick clutter of trees. She had stepped between two large oaks, when her eyes found what she was looking for. A dark opening to a cave in the side of the wall of dirt and rocks. Her blue eyes suddenly blackened to pools of midnight as she crept eagerly inside.

"Rebuild, rebuild, rebuild," she kept repeating, as her feet cautiously tapped the ground before her, searching for safe footing. When hard rock was all she felt, the Revenant moved forward at a confident stride. "Need to rebuild everything Meztor had planned for this world. Share the Unending Life."

Suddenly a large puddle of water appeared ahead of her, under a shaft of light coming from a hole in the earthen roof. Tapping her nose, the girl slinked around its girth against the wall, sidling to the dry ground beyond. However she paused for a moment when she caught a reflection of her face. A gasp of air escaped her lips, and a hand shot up to her cheek. A small hole had begun to appear, tissue tearing away under the plumpness of her left cheek. Her hunger had already begun. Black eyes tightened, and her frown returned.

"Sick of this eternal hunger. I need... I need..." Then she paused, and it was if a voice echoed from the far depths of the cave to her.

_Find the Obsidian Escutcheon!_ The voice cried fervently in her mind. _Find the Obsidian Escutcheon!_

"Obsidian Escutcheon," Veil hissed. "Yes! That is it!"

Scrambling on all fours, she climbed up an incline in the floor and dropped her chin on a jut of rock, her eyes peering over the ledge at a glow at the back of the cave.

The Doom Stone. Black crystals growing out of a large slab of rock that looked like coal. The glow came from the crystals, and a persistent ringing echoed with it. Ringing inside Veil's mind like a swarm of crickets.

_Find the Obsidian Escutcheon!_ It cried.

Veil laughed, and reached out to touch the black crystals...

"So pretty!"

THE MAKER'S HAND

BOOK 2 OF "THE BRIGHTEYES CHRONICLES"
**CHAPTER 1: A LITTLE BOOK SHOP**

"My father and I are looking for a rare artefact, a book called _To the Ends of the Earth_ by E. A. Johnson Pasha," the young English woman said to the Egyptian shopkeeper who peered at her over his spectacles. He was sitting behind a display cabinet, which confined a colourful mosaic of leather-bound books and dusty ornaments, and was pawing through a newspaper that spoke of political unrest in his city: Alexandria. A long straw rested lazily in the left corner of his mouth and ended in a glass bottle of cola on the counter; perspiring in the weakly air-conditioned bookshop. "It contains the mysterious _Kitab al Kanuz_ manuscript. We are willing to pay you handsomely for it." Her last promise was followed with a wink and a flash of an envelope, which was stuffed with British pounds.

The wizened man spluttered, dislodging his straw, and began a coughing fit, which quickly turned into a strange gurgling sound that might have been mistaken for choking. The pretty woman started forward in an attempt to help him, but stopped when the choking turned into a dry, croaky laugh that revealed his ridicule of her. Finally he said in good English, "I am sorry, but the book you speak of is a fairytale. A myth."

"Oh," the Englishwoman managed to say through her shock and displeasure at his reaction. The shopkeeper's frank mockery was like a slap in the face. "Well, I—we are not disputing the validity of the book. We are simply interested in purchasing it for our museum back home. My father's interest is purely academic and nothing more."

"You believe in some of it, right?" the shopkeeper said with a raised eyebrow. "Just a little?"

"Well, um... ah..."

"Be honest," the weathered-faced man said, turning his newspaper without looking at the next page. He hovered a ring-heavy hand over the arabic words that filled it as if he was summoning something from them. "My country is quite a mystical place. Full of... old magic..." He left her hanging on his ambiguity, baiting her interest.

"Yes!" The woman's eyes lit up. "Very much so! There has to be some truths to the legends—and by your face expression you are just teasing me."

He wondered if her face was scarlet with anger or embarrassment. Stifling his laughter and waving a dismissive hand, he said, "Sorry, I can't help myself. I get a lot of tourists coming into my shop looking for magical monkey paws or levitating rugs, and I tell them all the same thing: I sell old books and trinkets. Nothing mystical at all. Maybe the grave robbers who sell me some of their 'discoveries' think otherwise, and spread the fables to foreigners, but I can assure you you won't find anything here that you can't find in an op shop back in England."

"And the manuscript?"

"Ah... yes. _Kitab al Kanuz_ was in fact an ancient manuscript that spoke of the mythical city of Zerzura and how to reach it through an oasis gate. However it is as I say it is: a myth. Pasha found the manuscript in a Pharaoh's tomb and claimed to have recorded it in his journal, which you mentioned. _To the Ends of the Earth_ , unfortunately, was never published. The book was destroyed in a fire that consumed Pasha's house. That part is true."

A frown of disappointment creased the woman's pouty lips and she moved a tussle of curly, brown hair out of her face. "I am Rachael, by the way," she said, extending her hand out to the man. "Rachael Cuthbert. My father, Cornelius, is still in the markets as we speak, hunting for the manuscript and any other strange artefacts that may be of any value."

"Hanafi," the clerk replied, shaking her hand. "But I don't mind George. I lived in America for some time and picked a strong English-speaking name that was easy to say. Little did I know it was out of fashion."

Rachael laughed then said, "Okay, George. Well, I best be going now. Father will be looking for me—oh, I was also wondering what your thoughts are on the local rumours."

"Rumours? What rumours?"

"They speak of—pardon my ignorance—the djinn."

Hanafi did not reply, but listened with an unreadable face.

"An old woman told me in the marketplace of a homeless boy she saw several days ago. He could speak with animals. She caught him commanding birds, dogs and horses to carry out tasks for him. The woman said something about a secret war in the desert that was pushing the djinn into the cities."

"Nonsense," the shopkeeper said, shaking his head. "Pay that gossip no heed, djinn are sand demons of mythology and nothing more. It was probably one of the stall holders wanting to snare a tourist, or some street beggar out of her mind."

A sound of old cogs turning and what might have been chains pulling against some great weight suddenly filled the bookshop and Rachael paused by the door. She cast a glance over her shoulder and said, "What was that?"

"That? Oh, that! Yes, bad plumbing. Egypt is riddled with bad plumbing. It's the old buildings you see. I'd leave if I were you. It only gets worse. The stench is known to kill... rats!"

Rachael cringed, her face as white as a ghost at the mention of rats. Waving goodbye, she briskly disappeared out the door, which she slammed behind her, setting off the little bell that alerted Hanafi of customers.

With a sigh of relief, the shopkeeper hopped off his stool and hastily made his way over to the door and locked it, spinning the "Be Back Later" sign around to face outside. He then made his way to the back of the shop towards the sound.

Along his path, old, wooden bookshelves towered over him from all sides like sleeping giants in the shop's low light, filled with countless leather-bound books of various sizes and on various subject matters. The shelves appeared to have been haphazardly placed next to each other in a maze of awkward angles, to fit in the small space of the shop; however there was an order to the chaos, and only Hanafi knew its secrets.

The back wall was made of sand coloured brick and looked as weathered as the pyramids. In its centre was a little alcove that housed a small statue of a woman's weeping head. It gazed back at Hanafi with hollow eyes as he approached. To anyone else it was of ancient Egyptian origin; to him and others who knew its design, it was Atlantean. He ran his hands over the woman's frozen face of despair, tracing lines over the stone tears with his gnarled fingers.

"Someone is taking the secret way," he whispered hoarsely. "This can't be good."

A rumbling from beneath his feet shook the shop again. Somewhere behind him, a series of books came crashing down from different shelves, and a light bulb on a chain swayed into a wall, shattering and making the room even dimmer.

Stepping away from the wall, Hanafi watched unflinchingly as white light shone out of the statue's hollow eyes. A large portion of the wall, including the alcove, suddenly sunk inwards and then slid sideways to the right, revealing a yawning passage beyond. Through a haze of dust he saw the silhouettes of two tall beings: a man and a woman.

"Arai, sah'est usha'tar, Hanafi," the man's shadow in the tunnel said. "Arai, lore-kin!"

Then from out of the wall stepped Vesphaeon and his sister Eleena. They towered above Hanafi's bent form, looking quickly about the bookshop for signs of others.

"There is no one else here, my lord and lady," Hanafi replied quickly, although his smile was unsure. "Who is chasing you—"

"Come," Vesphaeon ordered his sister, pulling her by the forearm. "We must be gone from this place before the rebels find you."

"They will find both of us!" Eleena retorted.

"Rebels? What rebels?" the shopkeeper asked, trying to get the attention of his Atlanteans guests who seemed to have forgotten about him. "There are no rebels in town that I know of! And I hear everything!"

Vesphaeon flung his hard gaze at Hanafi. When he spoke his voice was stern but his eyes were sad, "They have taken the city. The Library is lost."

Hanafi was stunned. Silence passed for a moment before Eleena made a move forward into the bookshop, breaking her brother's hold. A blue light winked from a ring on her right hand and suddenly the woman shimmered like a mirage and shrank in size as she walked. When she was standing two feet away from Hanafi, she was his height. "We need to gather an army of lore-kin and take back the Library," she said with a furrowed brow.

"No, it is too risky," Vesphaeon interjected. "I will find a way to reason with the rabble—"

"There is no way to reason with Kaelan," Eleena said, holding her ground. When she turned to face her brother he was her height as well—a swirl of blue light trailed around his body and evaporated into nothing. He wore the same Ring of Illusion as her. "They only know how to destroy. They did it to Avalon and they are now doing it to the Library of Alexandria."

"Your guise is very distracting, old friend." Vesphaeon was now addressing Hanafi, his argument with his sister suspended by his curiosity of the lore-kin's appearance. "Be a little flattering to yourself."

Hanafi shrugged and wiggled a ring on his left pinky that looked the same as Vesphaeon and Eleena's. A young, handsome, Egyptian man suddenly stood before them in a swirl of blue light.

"That's better," Vesphaeon said.

"Sorry, I don't like to draw attention to the shop. It is hard as it is trying to turn officials away when they get a whiff of something strange going on. Or when Oreus sends his men to check the books I sell, making sure your people's knowledge is still jealously guarded. Or when the rebels are hunting for lore-kin to recruit or kill. A large list of reasons to remain hidden, really."

"Hey, Hanafi!" a voice from the front of shop shouted. "Open up! We know you're in there!"

"Speak of the devil," the Egyptian said, a look of defeat on his face. Then his infectious smile crept back on his lips. "I'll get rid of them."

"Wait," Vesphaeon warned. "They may be looking for us. You must prepare my sister's escape should things turn ugly."

"We can't be separated—" Eleena started.

"Don't be stubborn. These fools hold no allegiance to the High Seat. They will kill us both. I can fool them."

"Or die a fool yourself!" His sister's face was one of anger and despair. "Be safe."

Vesphaeon nodded grimly and quickly moved towards the sounds of the door rattling and muffled threats.

"Wait in the maze," Hanafi said to Eleena, stubbornly following after Vesphaeon. "Left, right, right, left. The gold and silver book."

Eleena looked confused, but made her way into the maze of bookshelves as instructed.

"Hold your horses!" Hanafi grumbled, his old disguise concealing him again. He walked up to the door in a slow hobble to fit the part.

When the door was unlocked, it flung open and a surge of bodies pushed through, nearly bowling him over. Six men in modern Egyptian attire surrounded him and Vesphaeon. All armed with small daggers.

Hanafi fell to the ground in an act of fear. "Spare us!"

"We had a deal," Vesphaeon said, ignoring the lore-kin's performance and staring the newcomers down. "Your master was to hand over the Library to me. Take the son of Thomas and leave!"

Hanafi gasped softly at the betrayal unveiled, but kept his head down upon the filthy floor. _Needs a bit of sweep..._ he thought.

"Plans have changed," the leader of the men snickered darkly. He bore a scar over the bridge of his large nose, which was twisted and bent. "The deal is off."

"Kaelan said he would keep his word," Vesphaeon continued, "I was under the impression he was an honourable man."

"Do we look like honourable men?" the thug laughed, and the circle of knives tightened. "Mathias has been captured, and your father is dead. Kaelan killed him for not submitting to his will."

A flash of blue light revealed the Egyptians to be rebel Lemurians. Their daggers, glaives.

"My... father," Vesphaeon said with eyes wide with shock. He felt as if a battering ram had been smashed into his ribs, crushing his lungs and heart. "He was to be relieved of his duties under my ascension to the chair. He was not to have been harmed!" Then there was fire in his eyes and his sadness fell away. Vesphaeon dismissed his illusion, standing at his full height, his staff appearing out of the blue light.

"It is too late for grieving, Vesphaeon," his tormentor said, "death has come!"

Then they rushed him. Vesphaeon swung his staff into the fray, knocking down his assailants with a mighty wrath born from the news of his father's murder. He had learned well the ways of combat from Rykar and Mathias and was no easy target.

Hanafi clamoured to his feet and leaped away from the grasping hands and waving weapons of Kaelan's men. It didn't take him long to make up his mind if he should stand and fight with his friend or run.

Vesphaeon supported his flight from the battle, crying, "Get my sister out of here, fool!"

Five more rebels came crashing through the door as Hanafi sped towards his bookshelves. Even though the son of Oreus was hard to subdue, it wouldn't be long until he fell to their numbers.

"There is no escape, lore-kin!" one of the rebels growled, giving pursuit. "Your time in the service of the Library is over!"

Hanafi shimmered blue and his old man visage was gone. The younger man ran up to one of his towering shelves and pushed it with all of his might, sending the wall of books crashing down on his pursuer...

Eleena followed Hanafi's directions into his maze of bookshelves.

_Left, right, right, left..._ Her thoughts trailed away as she came to a dead end: a cul-de-sac of three heavy-laden bookshelves blocked her escape. They looked as if they would topple on top of her from the weight of thousand authors. Worn leather spines and strange titles in strange languages from times long forgot. _Where do I go?_

The sound of heated argument and then ensuing combat near the front of the shop suddenly added to her dilemma. She began to panic.

Then Eleena remembered the gold and silver book that Hanafi had mentioned. Her eyes furiously scanned the walls of literature until they fell upon a book that fitted that description. A golden spine with silver embossed writing in a language she instantly recognised as Atlantean. _Hmmm, Hanafi would get in trouble with father for selling this—oh!_ Upon closer inspection the title of the book read: _Of Plants and Herbs and their Healing Properties_ by Arinaeus Kathan'dar. _I know this book—_

Reaching out, Eleena grabbed the book and pulled...

A heavy groan came up from the ground beneath her, and the bookshelf that bore the book began to sink into the ground. Dust that had settled on top of the shelf for several years undisturbed was now rattled off and descended in a thick cloud around Eleena, causing her to cough fitfully.

When she could see through the tears in her eyes from the dust she saw that the bookshelf was flush with the ground. A large skylight had opened in the roof, also, letting the evening sun send its last rays of orange glow into the shop.

"Jump on!" Hanafi's voice exploded behind her. "Quickly! They are right behind me!"

Eleena leaped onto the top of the bookshelf and spun around to see the young-faced shopkeeper almost knock her down. He dropped to the ground, fumbled with his hands until he found a hidden lever and pulled it. The bookshelf rumbled again, this time moving upwards to its original height.

They were almost in reach of the skyline when three rebels raced into the dead end. One threw his glaive spinning up at the pair, which morphed into the shape of a circular blade. Hanafi pulled Eleena down and the blade sailed over their heads and disappeared out the roof and somewhere beyond.

"Missed! You dotard!" the lore-kin taunted the cursing rebel as the bookshelf stopped at full height. It was only a step onto the flat rooftop from the bookshelf, so they made fast their escape, running towards the adjacent building—a pet shop—less than a couple of breaths away. A narrow alleyway separated Hanafi's shop from it, which connected to the main street below. The hubbub of evening traffic and people heading home from work filled their ears. "You can easily jump over that gap—"

"No! Its too far!" Eleena protested.

"You can make it! Trust me."

A loud clamour came from behind them and Hanafi guessed they were scaling the bookshelf and would soon be on the roof.

He threw a pleading look at her.

"Okay," The girl said, nodding her head. The tears in her eyes no longer from the dust. It was her sorrow for her brother that was slowing her down, not the fear of falling.

The lore-kin grabbed the Atlantean by the hand and pulled her towards the precipice. They ran, then jumped. Hanafi landed first, but Eleena stumbled and fell. Holding her fast, he turned and fell to his knees. Eleena swung down hard against the wall of the alleyway, almost crushing her ribs. She gasped in pain, but Hanafi refused to let her fall. He heaved and pulled her onto the roof of the other building. When they were standing again they saw the rebels rushing to meet them.

"Run!" He shouted.

Eleena ran, holding her chest in pain. The fire inside of her threatened to pull her down in a gasping heap; but she stubbornly refused and kept her legs moving.

For a brief moment the girl thought that Hanafi had stayed behind to slow the rebels' pursuit. To sacrifice his life. But his jagged breath was soon puffing behind her.

"The market place is just over that wall!" he cried as they approached a low set brick wall skirting the rooftop. "Get ready to jump again—"

Cornelius and Rachael were driving their hired car away from the market square when they saw two bodies fall from the sky, landing in a nearby pond.

"Good gracious me!" the old man with a black and white peppered beard exclaimed, swerving the car to an abrupt halt. A large map of the city that had been unfurled across the steering wheel tore in half from his sudden and forceful grip. "Who was that?"

"A man and woman," Rachael said, leaning out of the window of the passenger seat and gazing in the rippling surface of the pond. "Oh my! Its George from the bookshop!"

"George?" her father said with a raised brow. "Who is George?"

"The owner of Oasis Books. I asked him about the manuscript and Zerzura."

Before either could continue their back-and-forth questions and answers, Hanafi had stumbled out of the body of green murky water, soaked and cursing. He was at the driver's window in the blink of an eye, reaching wet hands for Rachael's arm. "Save us!" he cried.

"George! What happened?"

"Thieves! My shop is under attack by thieves!" he lied.

"Well, shouldn't the police be called?" she answered.

The wizened man held his tongue, revised his plead and finally said, "I have the book you want! I have _To the Ends of the Earth_ by Pasha!"

"You do?"

"Yes! If you give my friend and I a ride out of the city, I will give you the book. Take you straight to Zerzura."

Eleena was stumbling up beside Hanafi when she heard his pledge. She gave him a worried look, but he winked, silencing her fears.

"Deal!" Shaking Hanafi's wet hand, Cornelius agreed to the terms without hesitation. He didn't know who these people were, but understood well the value of their bargain. "If you can take us to the hidden city, we will give you safe passage to anywhere. I have a plane..."

Hanafi flashed a devious grin to Eleena and yanked the back door open, climbing in. She quickly followed suite; but her gaze was behind them, scanning the tops of the buildings for their pursuers who seemed to have disappeared.

_There is a garrison left in Zerzura._ The lore-kin spoke in Eleena's mind. _Maybe our last chance at retaking the Library. Our last chance at freeing your brother._

The daughter of Oreus nodded grimly, did one last scan of the nearby streets for Vesphaeon or the rebels, sighed and closed the door of the car.

