

### Elora's Revenge

Book Four

The Dream Cane Series ©

By

Phil Armstrong

Published by

White Wolf Books ©

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Title and Copyright Page

White Wolf Books ©

Elora's Revenge

Book Four of The Dream Cane series

By Phil Armstrong

Thank you for downloading the fourth eBook in "The Dream Cane" series ©. You are most welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied, and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete and original form, with the exception, of quotes used in reviews. Your support and respect for the intellectual property of this author is appreciated.

The cover graphic has been licensed and purchased by the author from Dreamstime.com -

©  Nejron | Dreamstime.com – Woman Vampire Photo ©

This book is a work of fiction; the author tries to merge facts and real places, together with his creative mind. Some of the characters, events, places, buildings, and monuments are based in fact. To advance the story, fictional characters and fictional events have been manufactured by the author's creative mind. For the fictional characters, any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places and events, is purely coincidental or portrayed in a fictional way. For the people or places that are based in fact, the author has tried to represent them as accurately as the historical record allows.

Thank you for downloading this eBook – enjoy!

ISBN 978-0-9877284-7-0 Elora's Revenge

Copyright 2018, Author: Phil Armstrong. Discover other titles and works by Phil Armstrong at

www.whitewolfbooks.ca

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### Elora's Revenge

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### Prologue - Abilene

If you were to journey along the historic Chisholm Trail you will arrive in a small but exceptionally pretty town, infused with a unique attitude and a rich history that continues to shape its inhabitants today. Abilene is a scenic wild-western styled town, situated north of Wichita in the state of Kansas, in the United States of America. Abilene played a significant role in the development of the Wild West, where, in the mid 1800's, the Kansas Pacific Railway advanced westward train traffic through Abilene. The railway company installed a spur line at Abilene, this proved to be a transformative event that enabled railway cattle cars to be loaded and routed to numerous destinations. In September of 1867, the first load of cows was routed to Chicago from Abilene. This cemented Abilene as 'the cow town' of the west.

By the late 1800's, Abilene had a population of approximately 5,000 cowboys and a vibrantly busy stockyard that shipped 600,000 cows to other railhead destinations throughout the USA. Historians have documented the severe challenges in enforcing the law at that time. Abilene was known as a brutal crime-ridden town. They needed strong lawmen such as Tom "Bear River" Smith, and Wild Bill Hickok, to keep the brawlers, gamblers, cowboys and thieves, in line. Some of the lawmen met with unfortunate ends. They were shot, beheaded, hanged, and maimed; it was clear, Abilene was a tough town.

Today, Abilene is a very different place; it delights in catering to tourists who want to experience the Wild West. It boasts a population of approximately 6,000 residents. In the summer of 1979, Abilene was suffering through another seemingly endless hot July. Trapped within a heat wave with temperatures soaring around the mid 30's, the residents were hoping for some desperately needed rain. Grass lawns had long since been singed to a dirty brown color. Dissecting the town of Abilene, running in a north and south direction was Highway 15. The locals knew it as Buckeye Avenue. North of Abilene, Buckeye Avenue would connect with Interstate 70, passing Abilene cemetery located on the west side of the avenue. The cemetery was steeped in history and folklore; the harsh lives experienced in the Wild West by its inhabitants could only be imagined. South of Abilene, Buckeye Avenue takes an ambling journey towards the Smokey Hill River that flows east to west. Just south of the Smokey Hill River, branching off the highway to the west is Gulf Road. It follows the path of the river. In 1976, a small church located on Gulf Road was fighting to survive.

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### The Fifth Realm - Earth

### Chapter 1: The First Night Alone - 1976.

Abilene, Kansas, USA, 1976.

"We're born alone, we live alone, we die alone. Only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for the moment that we're not alone."

Albert Fergusson was a native of Tulsa, he'd been assigned as the new Pastor tasked with reviving the diminishing congregation of the Sacred Heart Parish Church. The Sacred Heart was a Catholic Church originally established in the early 1800's and located on Gulf Road in Abilene. The church had towered over the fast flowing river for what seemed like an eternity. It was built using a combination of red brick, wood, and locally sourced yellow stone. It was a small but mighty building that once boasted a congregation of over one hundred and fifty parishioners in its heyday.

It was Albert's first night alone in the church and he was nervous. Every sound appeared louder than it really was as he settled into his unfamiliar surroundings. Albert felt confined within the small bed made with freshly laundered sheets. He started to realize the size of the task ahead of him and the challenge that he'd willingly accepted. "You can do this," he whispered to himself. Albert pulled the crisply pressed sheets up to his chin and stared at the ceiling of his small bedroom. He hadn't noticed it before, but there was a brown stain in the form of a circular pattern soaked into the white plaster ceiling, the result of previous water leaks.

Albert listened; every building has its own set of creaks, bangs, squeaks, and tapping noises that forms its unique personality. As the light faded across Abilene, Albert took a deep breath. He tried desperately to calm his racing mind and find a way to fall asleep. It was a hot summer's night, but the materials used in the construction of the old church meant the small-bricked bedroom remained comfortably cool creating an ideal temperature for him to sleep within. Albert ruminated upon his plan to fix up the church, increase the size of the congregation, and generate additional funds.

Albert's mind raced, his thoughts turned to Pastor Reginald Frost, the previous Pastor at the church. Reginald had unfortunately passed away when he'd collapsed one evening alone in the main hall of the church. He was by all accounts, a charming, charismatic and caring man, but he'd suffered from the onset of dementia that had changed his personality and his ability to function in this modern world. Reginald was eighty-seven when he passed away. Towards the end of his life he'd become increasingly cantankerous, difficult, and opinionated. This wild change in his demeanor had begun to concern his congregation and the church officials. His attitude and opinions did not accurately represent the church's new modern image. On numerous occasions Reginald would forget parishioner's names and mix up important facts about their personal lives. As a result, members of the congregation had stopped approaching him for advice. Reginald's diminished abilities meant he couldn't communicate or deliver sermons effectively any more. His morning sermons were rambling and incoherent, even his closest friends had to admit they sounded irrational and disjointed, without any underlying message. Unfortunately Reginald was not fit to perform the job anymore. This had come to the attention of the administration of the Catholic Church after numerous parishioner complaints. Reginald had passed away before the Church had removed him of his duties. Albert had overheard muffled conversations describing this as a convenient end.

After tossing and turning for well over an hour, at approximately 11.30pm, Albert finally fell into a deep restful sleep. The absurdly small bedroom was like an ancient tomb, cool and dark surrounded by solid brick walls.

A solitary light source hung from the center of the room. A new light bulb was suspended from a simple black wire that snaked its way out from a junction box embedded within the ceiling rafters. The bedroom was barely large enough to fit a single cot sized bed paired with a small wooden wardrobe and an aged mirror that hung upon the far wall. The bedroom was clearly built in another era for today it would be considered too small and would not meet the fire code.

With the light turned off, the bedroom was quite dark despite a small amount of light managing to seep its way under the only door. The light entered from the living room where above the kitchen sink was a small window encased by a cream colored wooden frame. The window frame's paint was peeling off. A poorly fitted plastic horizontal blind obscured the view afforded by the window. When the wind howled across the river it would seep through the cracks in the window's wooden frame and blow against the blind's drawstrings. The drawstrings were attached to two plastic knobs. It was the blind's knobs powered by the wind that would bang against the window frame causing an annoying tapping sound that resembled the rhythmic beat of a snare drum. Once Albert had finally fallen asleep, this tapping noise eventually woke him. He could hear the sound emanating from the kitchen and soon associated it with the rise and fall of the wind gusts blowing outside. Albert lay quietly in the dark until he identified its source, "I'm going to need to seal that draft," he said, talking to himself quietly.

Now awake, Albert examined the shapes within the darkened room that lay before him. It was hard for him to explain, but Albert would look back on this fateful night as the start of a series of events that would profoundly change his life and his perception of the world around him forever. It happened so quickly, in the blink of his tired eyes, something strange occurred. Albert was fatigued; he was exhausted from the day's grueling physical activities and was glad to finally settle in for the night. He was looking forward to a good night's rest and was initially frustrated at his inability to fall into a restful sleep. Awakened by the annoying tapping noise, Albert now found himself caught in that strange state between sleep and being fully awake. He was groggy, teetering on the edge of falling back into a deep restful slumber. Albert opened his tired heavy eyelids as a variety thoughts flashed through his over active mind. Albert widened his eyes as a movement caught his startled attention.

Although the room was dark, Albert thought he saw the outline of a figure racing quickly across the bedroom wall. In an instant it was gone, it shook Albert, the sudden panic forcing him to immediately wake up. The panic Albert felt surging through his body jolted him from his restful state and threatened his sense of security. Suddenly he felt he was not alone in the church. Albert threw the sheets to one side and leapt into an upright position. Fuelled by adrenaline, he couldn't remember leaping out of bed, but he found himself standing at the bedroom light wall switch. Turning on the light, his heart raced expecting to confront the visitor. He quickly surveyed his empty bedroom, his eyes adjusting to the light. An assortment of wild thoughts dashed through Albert's overactive mind as he tried to rationalize what he'd just seen. A person had just raced across his bedroom wall, but the path travelled was exceptionally high. This person was either clinging to the wall at an elevated height, or the head and shoulders of this person put them at well over seven feet tall. Albert blinked rapidly, neither of these options made any rational sense. As the figure passed him, he'd experienced a strange rush of wind upon his face. There was a clear disturbance of the air in the bedroom, yet there was nobody in the room with him. It was too real to be a dream.

Albert could feel his body temperature rising rapidly. His heart pounded, he began to perspire and his panic-stricken brain was overtaxed searching for possible explanations. One scenario that needed immediate consideration was the possibility of an intruder leaving the bedroom and fleeing into the main hall of the church. Albert found himself moving into his living quarters and turning on the light. It was also small where a quick look around would ensure his safety and confirm that he was alone. Albert had locked the door to the main hall from the inside of his living quarters. A quick glance confirmed the door had remained locked. To satisfy his curiosity, even though it was irrational, he unlocked the door and proceeded into the church's main hall. He turned on the lights and held his breath. Albert inspected the small church checking the altar area carefully; everything appeared to be in order. He glanced between the rows of wooden benches and searched behind two large stone columns. Albert could not find an intruder. Nothing seemed out of place as he moved to the rear of the church hall to examine the main entrance door.

Architecturally the main door was a focal point of the church, it was secured by a set of double doors, sturdy in their construction and approximately eighty years old. They were large oak doors, suspended by locally made black iron hinges. Three iron draw bolts augmented with a hand-turn lock secured the doors. Albert confirmed that each locking mechanism was still fully engaged, and this convinced him that the church was empty. Albert smiled to himself, feeling slightly embarrassed. He felt ridiculous and shook his head at his own paranoia. "Nobody here and the church is all locked up," he muttered to himself. Albert looked at the main hall, "If that was you Pastor Reginald, and you're still hanging around here, then don't worry. I'll take care of this old church for you," he said. "First night jitters Albert, no intruders," he muttered to himself shaking his head as he shuffled back towards his living quarters. He turned off the church's main hall lights before closing and locking the door once again. He proceeded into his living room.

Albert walked slowly towards the kitchen sink resigned to the fact that his over active imagination coupled with his tired demeanor was playing tricks upon him. He paused, concluding that the anxiety caused by his unfamiliar surroundings and his sheer exhaustion must have been a contributing factor to what he thought he'd seen. Falling in and out of sleep had clearly blurred the lines between reality and his dreams. His sudden panic had subsided as he reached for a glass from one of the kitchen cupboards. He poured himself a glass of water using the rickety old kitchen facet and turned the water off carefully. A large gust of wind blew ferociously across the Smokey Hill River outside. The church held firm, bracing itself against the relentless wind. The wind managed to force itself through the window's cracked frame and the tapping noise resumed. Albert watched the movement of the blind's drawstrings. He took a sip of his water and placed the glass carefully upon the small counter. He reached for the drawstrings wrapping the cords around one of the plastic blind slats. He smiled to himself at his simple solution, "I've fixed you for tonight but I'm going to seal up this church before winter sets in," he whispered to himself, making a promise. Albert had spent a lot of his nights alone and developed a habit of talking to himself. He picked up the glass of water and headed back to his bed.

Albert took a last long precautionary glance around his small living quarters before turning out the light and returning to his bedroom. He placed the water glass carefully upon his bedside table and climbed back into bed before turning out the light and plunging his room back into darkness. It didn't take him long before he was asleep, he felt satisfied that his mind must have played tricks upon him and he knew he wasn't in any real danger. But that nagging feeling wouldn't go away as a little voice deep inside him reminded his subconscious slumbering state of what he'd seen. As the evening's darkness descended upon the little church, the gusting winds outside started to subside. The Sacred Heart Parish Catholic church was returned to its serene setting as the moon tried to hide behind the dark clouds that blanketed the sky above the Smokey Hill River. The church was returned to a state of normalcy; Albert would soon get accustomed to his new surroundings.

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### The Fifth Realm - Earth

### Chapter 2: Forced Favor.

Hong Kong Island, Hong Kong, Present day.

"One must never forget that life is unfair, but sometimes, with a bit of luck this works in your favor."

For the last three days torrential rain had lashed Hong Kong before stopping abruptly. The last remnants of a strong typhoon had blown over the island and cleared the area. The rain had cleaned the dirty streets flushing the runoff water through the sewers and into the welcome harbor. The trees, lawns, shrubs and flowerbeds absorbed the much-needed moisture. They were grateful for the drop in temperature providing a welcome break from the searing summer heat. The Crocodile Queen had transported into a small alley located off Boundary Street. She landed between a stone retaining wall and a tall building centrally placed upon a narrow bike path. She mumbled to herself, "Come on Rose, we need to get this done!"

A young couple with their backs turned to Rose, walked casually away oblivious to the sudden visitor. They were out for a stroll walking their small dog, and enjoying the cooler air. A loud cracking noise reverberated throughout the alley when Rose arrived. The noise caused them to turn their heads momentarily. Their small dog barked incessantly. Suddenly startled, the poor dog tried to run away from Rose. It yanked the man relentlessly attached by the walking lease, which stopped its forward momentum.

Rose immediately turned her back on the couple as a small sonic boom echoed down the alley. She casually walked away as if nothing had happened trying to divert any unnecessary attention cast towards her. She wore black jeans, a simple navy-blue t-shirt and black sneakers, an outfit specifically designed to blend in and make her anonymous. Rose was in a determined mood, she entered onto Boundary Street and quickened her pace. She'd landed across on the landmass across the water from Hong Kong's popular main island. She'd taken a risk and strategically placed herself in Mong Kok. She knew this was a heavily populated part of the city; the density of people in this area is one of the highest in the world. Mong Kok is not as expensive as Hong Kong Island and represents home to people who often work on Hong Kong Island but can't afford to live there. Rose couldn't imagine how much money would be required to live in that consumer-based lifestyle across the harbor. She pushed her way through the crowded sidewalks until she could see the entrance to Knight Street, a one-way street. She quickened her pace again, until she approached the tall apartment buildings cladded with white tiles and adorned with balconies. Rose remembered the apartments and their unique appearance from the previous time she'd visited Mong Kok, when she escorted Dan and Ally.

She strode confidently towards one of the building's entrances stepping over puddles of water. The road and sidewalk were littered with pools of water, a remaining remnant from the storm. Rose approached the familiar small door with its entrance panel containing six white plastic buttons. A label displayed the name of each resident attached to every button. Some were written in English, others displayed strange Cantonese symbols. Rose pressed the third button down. It was still the only button on the panel that displayed a blank white label.

She waited patiently, enjoying the cool air provided by the aftermath of the storm. She leaned upon the olive colored door leaving a visible mark as her fingerprints displaced the dirt and grime. The speaker crackled into life with its familiar buzzing noise, it was a distinctive voice that offered a suspicious greeting, "Yes?"

Rose stepped forward towards the speaker balancing her weight upon the top step of the entrance, as she had done before. "Hello, I'm here to buy another yellow bird. This time I've come alone."

There was a long pause as the old Witch thought about her response. Suddenly there was a familiar buzzing noise, the door-lock released and the door opened inwards about two inches. The speaker crackled into life, "I'll be right down," said the voice from inside, welcome of the chance to escape the confines of her apartment.

Rose pushed the door open and stepped into the lobby, the main door slammed closed behind her. Rose recalled the last time she had met the old Witch; she closed her eyes and tried to imagine her face. A few moments later, a high-pitched dinging noise caught her attention as it announced the elevator's arrival. A plump stubby little man emerged first, followed slowly by the old Witch. Her back seemed hunched, her arms were folded, and she scowled at the man leaving the elevator ahead of her. The plump man smiled politely at Rose, before opening the main door and disappearing into the street to start his day.

The old Witch looked annoyed, seemingly irritated by the effort involved by each labored movement. She winced and grimaced. She managed to shuffle her way over towards Rose, "Come," she said simply, waving her hand towards the elevators. It was as if she didn't remember Rose from their previous encounter, she acted cold and distant. She was looking a little disheveled with her stark white hair pulled back into a ponytail. She was dressed in brown loose-fitting pants, plain black slippers, and a baggy dark green sweater. She appeared to look much older this time, it wasn't just her appearance that had changed, it was her entire demeanor - she appeared detached and vacant. Rose felt sad seeing her this way.

They rode the mirrored elevator together neither of them uttering a word. After shuffling down a drab hallway, she finally unlocked the door to her apartment and they both entered. The old Witch held out her hand. She pointed it cautiously towards Rose. Her palm faced skywards, "Place the palm of your hand on mine please," she said softly. Rose recalled her doing this with Ally when they had first visited her previously.

Rose responded to her request by placing her palm face down where it now touched the old Witch's palm. She felt an instant surge of powerful energy shoot through her palm. Rose made eye contact with the old Witch. Her face changed immediately, she straightened her posture, had a twinkle restored to her eyes and she looked healthier. The power surging through her hand faded quickly as the old Witch moved her hand away breaking their connection. Without explanation she invited Rose in, "Come inside, have a seat, and let's talk," suggested the old Witch. "There's tea in the kitchen if you want to brew some up, I've just had some." She paused for an instant, as if thinking carefully about her next statement, "I didn't think I'd see you again my dear, I just got a vision that you managed to free your friend, the monk. I'm pleased for you, and your young friends."

"Thank you. I wont bore you with inconsequential small talk, I need your help again," said Rose getting right to the point as she slumped back into a comfy armchair. Rose stared through the glass coffee table at the hypnotic design woven into the patterned Oriental rug. The apartment was still cozy; the old Witch hadn't changed anything about it. Rose moved her attention to the large apartment windows; she stared aimlessly through them admiring the sunlight as it flooded into the room delivering its warmth. The walls were still painted in a subtle cream color, and the carved wooden furniture was exactly how Rose remembered it. It seemed the only thing that had changed was the old Witch herself.

The old Witch let out an uncontrollable sigh, "I have to tell you my dear; I'm not well. I know deep inside, I can feel it in my bones. I'm approaching my final days. Being stuck here, in this apartment, in this god forsaken city, doesn't help," she paused to reflect upon her statement, "Let's just say it's not how I thought I'd end my life in this realm." Her statement caught Rose off-guard and she couldn't think of anything appropriate to say. Her words seemed to hang awkwardly in the air. "I know I've had a long, exciting life. I've experienced more than most. I should feel fortunate and fulfilled and yet now, I feel empty and alone. What brings you here young lady?" she asked pointedly.

Rose felt sorry for the old Witch, she could tell by looking at her that her she was depressed. Her once vibrant life force had faded so badly since the last time they'd met. Rose struggled to see her aura, a light normally so bright and powerful in older Witches. Rose felt bad, she didn't have time for pleasantries and resorted to being direct once again, "I need to meet with Mr. Flash again." Rose held her necklace decorated with a pheasant and the crescent moon. Her necklace was in plain sight, the gold chain tightened against the back of her neck as she let the pendant fall backwards to rest at her throat.

Ignoring Rose's demand for assistance, the old Witch decided to ask a question, "Where did you find Myrddin's necklace?" she inquired in a calm and detached way.

Rose smiled, she knew she must play along, "It was hidden in the base of a stone cenotaph, located on University Avenue, in Toronto, Canada. We managed to retrieve it and use it to successfully free Kaan, the monk." Rose concluded her answer by nodding her head respectfully, recognizing the help the old Witch had provided in securing Kaan's release.

"Toronto, Canada, she repeated. And where is it now?" she inquired innocently.

"Safe, its safe," responded Rose, thinking it was best the old Witch didn't know.

"And now I find you back at my door, unexpectedly, here you are. How can I help you this time my dear?" there was a tinge of disappointment in her voice, as if she were being used. The old Witch turned her vacant stare towards Rose.

"I'd like you to do two things for me. First, I need to use your connections again and get me connected with Mr. Flash. I'd like to pay him a surprise visit and have a little chat with him." Rose's face had a serious look, one not to be challenged.

"And the second thing?" the old Witch inquired impatiently.

"Ah, yes, the second thing. I'd like you to pack your most treasured and valuable things - anything we both can carry. When I'm finished with my business here in Hong Kong, you're leaving with me. If what you say is true, and you're in your final journey, then you may as well be comfortable, surrounded by people who understand and care about you. I can provide you with loyal and protective servants to attend to your needs in a safe environment. I'd like to take you home with me, back to my realm, to live on Crescent Island. This is where you'd be welcome to spend the rest of your days in comfort. I owe you; we all owe you a great debt of gratitude. If it weren't for you, Kaan would never have been released. Likely, Ally and Dan would be dead, and I would have lost everything to Elora. It would be my great pleasure, in fact my honor, to host an esteemed Witch as yourself. If you agree, I would be blessed with a chance to learn from you. You have so much wisdom; so much you could teach me before you decide to take the great journey. I suspect your energy is low die to this place; this city and the way people treat you. This could be like a new lease on life for you." Rose reached out her hand across the armchairs, and held the hand of the shaking woman sat in front of her. It had been decades since anyone had shown the old Witch any compassion or affection; tears welled up in the old woman's eyes. The old Witch felt embarrassed, vulnerable, and weak. She managed a fragile smile as she nodded her head in grateful acceptance. A great weight had been lifted from her sagging shoulders. A change in surroundings and new energy would also revitalize her health and prolong her life.

"Thank you my dear," was all she could muster as a response, her voice trembled with gratitude.

"I will return to you after my business concludes here, it won't take me long - I promise. I intend to stay one evening in Hong Kong at the most, then, we'll travel back together. Start packing your most precious things," Rose squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Now, let's work on you connecting me to Mr. Flash." Rose flashed her a confident reassuring smile. The old Witch knew better than to ask what Rose was doing, she knew the necklace would keep Rose safe. She feared inquiring into Rose's intentions with Mr. Flash that it may annoy Rose and she couldn't risk her rescinding her most generous and welcomed offer.

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### The Fifth Realm - Earth

### Chapter 3: Unexplained Events.

Abilene, Kansas, USA, 1976.

"Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside of us, and sometimes, they win."

Albert had managed to survive his first eventful night at the Sacred Heart Parish church sleeping soundly after his initial interruption. He woke to the sound of an agitated black crow perched high upon the roof above his bedroom. The insistent bird welcomed the morning Sun, its strong rays reflecting upon the surface of the Smokey Hill River. The crow squawked loudly as it tried to locate other crows that frequented the area. Albert blinked away the tiredness from his eyes adjusting his vision and swinging his legs over the side of the small bed. He thought about the previous night's events and wondered how a figure could appear to race across his bedroom wall? He shook his head allowing a wry smile to cross his face. "I must have been dreaming," he muttered under his breath. It was 7am, later than his normal rising time. Albert rationalized his away his fears. "I must have been exhausted which would explain my weird dreams. Today's going to be a good day," said Albert trying to motivate himself and elevate his sluggish energy. He had another five days before the church was scheduled to be open for business again. The head Pastor had closed the church as a mark of respect for the passing of Pastor Reginald, this would allow Albert some time to prepare the church and assimilate into the new job.

Albert was still inexperienced and understandably he was both excited and petrified about the prospect of meeting his congregation for the first time. He'd entertained numerous thoughts. His mind turned to an old Indian saying. He recalled that within each of us there were two wolves constantly fighting. A black wolf that was devious, cunning and evil, and a white wolf strong, pure and good. Which wolf would win the fight? The one you feed. Albert's insecurities were growing about his new congregation. What if they didn't return after their brief hiatus? What if they did? How would he engage them? How would he meet their expectations? What would be his opening message? More importantly, could he deliver upon the high standards he'd set for himself? "Stop feeding the black wolf," he whispered to himself.

Albert rose from the bed, slipped on a bathroom robe, picked up the empty water glass he'd placed upon the nightstand and headed into his kitchen. Wiping his tired eyes with his fingers, he yawned as he moved through the door leading to his living room. Albert stopped abruptly after advancing two steps into the room. He allowed the glass to fall from his hand. It came crashing down onto the linoleum-covered floor. The glass smashed into several smaller pieces as shards of glass dispersed like a crowd of scurrying scarab beetles. Albert paid no attention to the scattered broken glass; instead, he chose to focus his attention on the living room and the kitchen area.

The living room was quite small with enough space to accommodate a lamp encased with a beige fabric lampshade, and a sofa with beige colored cushions. The sofa was now lying on one of its arms, propped vertically against the wall, it resembled the longest side of an isosceles triangle. The lamp was balanced horizontally across the top of the sofa, several feet above the ground. The kitchen cabinets had been erratically rearranged, nailed to the wall in a random order. Some of the cabinets were sideways with their doors hanging open. A couple of the cabinets were installed upside-down. The window blinds had been removed and were lying across the sink. The knobs and the chords that had disturbed him the previous night were now carefully arranged like train tracks running along the kitchen counter.

Albert could feel the sheer panic rising up through his body like a serpent snaking its way through his veins. He glanced nervously towards the door that separated his living quarters from the church's main hall. The door was still locked from the inside, just as he had left it the night before. Albert remained motionless, his eyes darting around the room desperately looking for a rational explanation. He struggled to comprehend how, or why, this could have occurred. He knew that he'd slept heavily; it was possible that he could have slept through some noise. Perhaps this was a joke, a prank orchestrated by the local teenagers designed to scare him off. The only way they could have entered the church was through the roof or through the kitchen window. He turned to examine the bedroom roof; the roof was all in order with no visible signs of entry. He glanced at the living room and kitchen roof, those too was sealed and in good condition. With no signs of forced entry that only left the kitchen window. Albert stepped over the broken glass shards and approached the window carefully. They could still be watching his reaction right now and having a good laugh at his expense. Albert decided to approach the window trying to look calm and unnerved. He examined the window's lock catch and the surrounding frame. Everything seemed in order with no evidence of a forced entry. The window, like the door, was still locked from the inside.

"What do I do?" Albert mumbled to himself. "If I mention this to the Head Pastor after my first night, it wouldn't look good." He couldn't conclusively rule out a cruel prank. Albert's thoughts crowded his overworked brain; he tried to think rationally, working each explanation through his reasoning process.

Like a well-executed magic trick Albert was left puzzled and if he were totally honest, a little scared. He thought hard but he couldn't understand how this prank had been so expertly staged when the church was locked down and he was sleeping within his own locked living quarters. Albert's mind cycled through a number of possibilities as he swept up and cleaned away the broken glass shards. He took his time re-attaching the window blinds and carefully re-arranged the furniture. Albert decided to brew-up a cup of calming tea. At first, he felt anger at the fact that he'd been conned and humiliated. Then he thought carefully about the effort required to move and re-configure the kitchen cabinets. He wondered how the couch had been tipped upon its end without waking him. The cabinets were at the very least a two-person job. Nobody had been heard entering the church last night. As he reflected upon the previous night a wave of anxiety rushed through his body. He carefully set aside the freshly brewed cup of tea. Albert rose and unlocked the door to the main hall of the church expecting the worst. He had no idea what he might find.

He stepped through the door into the church's main hall; he thoroughly examined the altar, pews, and artifacts within, before moving to inspect the church's main door. Everything in the church was exactly how he'd left it the night before. He breathed out an audible sigh of relief, "Thank you Lord," he said, nodding in the general direction of the altar. Over the course of the morning Albert's feelings moved through stages of anger, relief, embarrassment, confusion, and eventually concern for his own safety. He inspected the kitchen window from both the inside of his living quarters and from the outside of the church. He climbed onto the church's roof and searched for any signs of an access point. After his activities proved unsuccessful, he toyed with numerous theories searching for a rational explanation. The morning had passed, and Albert had managed to reattach the kitchen cabinets to their original wall locations. He was still confused about the odd random configuration but equally confused that their contents had been carefully reloaded into the cabinets with no damage. No plates, bowls, cups, or kitchen implements had been broken or chipped in this unusual move. Albert stood perplexed staring at the cabinets, "Why was this done? How was this done?" After a few seconds of deep thought, Albert entertained a crazy notion that struck fear into his already pensive mind. Perhaps the figure he'd seen in his room wasn't the result of a tired dream? Was there indeed someone, or worse still something, in the room with him last night?

Albert shuddered visibly at the thought, having run through all of the rational explanations in his mind he wasn't so quick to dismiss this possibility. Albert continued to talk to himself on numerous occasions throughout the day. He would often change his opinion, persuading himself to lean one way or another, but he remained firm on keeping this incident to himself. Albert had fixed the damage inflicted upon the kitchen cabinets. He'd inspected the kitchen window and the church's roof, searched the rooms for hidden entrances and satisfied himself that he was now secure within his sleeping quarters. He assured himself that tonight would be different, "I'll take extra precautions to ensure no one is getting in tonight," he stated proudly. Albert was determined to be extra vigilant; he would listen for any strange sounds or intruders. "Am I fretting about nothing? Was this clearly a cleverly designed joke orchestrated to spook me?" Albert was unsure; he questioned his memory and his recollection of that night's events. One thing he was certain about was the kitchen cabinets; someone was trying to scare him. Albert was having none of this. He wasn't going to be frightened off that easily, especially after one night. He was far too stubborn for that. Albert would stay vigilant tonight and catch the perpetrators in the act.

The afternoon passed quickly, it was another hot day devoid of rain. Albert drove into town; he purchased supplies at a local hardware store and decided not to draw attention to himself. He'd dressed in civilian clothes rather than wearing his Pastor's robes. Fortunately, the hardware store was busy, so no questions were asked of the stranger during the checkout process. Albert managed to repair a leaking hole in the church's roof located directly above his bedroom. He completed a few small repairs that needed immediate attention. The sun was racing across the sky and would soon be disappearing over the horizon to announce the evening's entrance. Albert had pulled the couch across the living room and positioned it underneath the kitchen window. He'd taken the time to place a thin nylon string across the window. As soon as the window opened, and anyone tried to enter, the string would jangle cutlery attached. This movement would dislodge spoons strategically placed each side of the window. The spoons would come crashing down onto the counter making a racket that would be sure to wake him. It was a crude but hopefully effective mechanism to raise an alarm. As the evening approached and darkness enveloped the area Albert prepared the inside of the church for the night ahead. He started with the front doors, ensuring they were locked from the inside. Albert decided to add another layer of security in the form of two propped chairs wedged in tightly against the doors. They were booby trapped with an assortment of pots and pans designed to sound an audible alarm if disturbed.

Once he was satisfied with the doors Albert left the lights on in the main hall of the church, he reasoned it would act as an additional deterrent. He carefully locked the door leading to his living quarters from the inside. He took an old rake that he'd found in the outside shed, and wedged it under the door's handle jamming the pole end of the rake against the weight of the couch. Albert smiled, "I know, I know, I'm acting a bit paranoid, but that should do it. No one's getting in here tonight, not without making one heck of a racket." With the kitchen window secured, Albert felt comfortable in his plan to assemble a makeshift bed upon the couch. With the couch strategically positioned underneath the window, Albert settled in for the night. He lay down with a freshly brewed chamomile tea and curled up with a Tom Clancy novel until his eyes became blurred. Unable to read anymore he set the book aside and soon fell into a deep sleep. Albert only woke once that evening, to facilitate his customary visit the bathroom to relieve his bladder. A quick check of his security precautions allowed him to resume his restful sleep without incident.

In the morning, Albert woke early and refreshed. He lay resting on his back, remaining motionless upon his couch with his eyes closed. Albert opened his eyes gingerly, tilted his head, and inspected the kitchen cabinets. To his immense relief they were arranged exactly as he'd left them.

He decided to thoroughly inspect the living room and found nothing out of place; he even turned his attention upwards towards the roof, half expecting to be surprised. Albert walked into his bedroom and examined the room carefully; everything was normal. Returning to the living room he slipped into his robe and sat on the couch. He glanced at the rake confirming it was still wedged under the handle of the door leading to the main hall. He switched his gaze by flicking his eyes in the direction of the spoons still precariously balanced each side of the window, "Kids,' he scoffed, "must have been stupid kids trying to scare me."

Albert allowed himself a smile and shook his head. There were times when Albert wished he were more confident, but at least he was stubborn, and he would use this trait to push himself out of his comfort zone. This job was a life altering opportunity for him, and he wasn't going to blow it. Albert felt a surge of determination flooding through his body, he felt relieved and strangely confident. "I will revitalize this church," he stated boldly. Albert lay back on the coach and basked in his small mental victory, his gaze fell upon the door leading to the main hall and the rake still wedged in its place. It was then that his newfound confidence was quickly shattered into a thousand pieces, replaced by a piercing feeling of doubt. "The main hall, I haven't checked the main hall yet."

Albert decided to drag his body together with his deflated confidence from the comfort of the couch. Adjusting the belt on his robe he walked towards the rake jammed into place securing the door. A swift but firm tug removed the rake, which he propped against the wall. Albert reached down to twist the door handle unlocking the door. He took a deep breath and stepped inside to inspect the main hall of the church. At first glance all appeared calm, his eyes immediately settled upon the front doors. He confirmed that they were still locked, wedged with the chairs, pots and pans.

Albert felt a calmness descend upon his entire body; the tension and anxiety ebbed away as he exhaled deeply. He continued to walk into the main hall surveying the scene before him and looking for any visible signs of intruders. The main altar became the focus of his attention as he took a mental inventory of the religious artifacts carefully exhibited. It was only when Albert turned his head towards the open area where the congregation would normally gather that he spotted something odd. Something seemed out of place. Normally, he would see the worn tops of the wooden benches neatly arranged in symmetrical rows facing the altar. What caught his attention was the recognizable sight of an end of one of the benches. Clearly something had been moved. He moved closer until the full extent of the change became apparent. Many of the wooden benches had been moved to one side leaving a large space in the center of the main hall. Several benches had been arranged to form the outline of a pentagon. In the center of the pentagon shape was a crucifix, normally displayed on the far wall of the altar it now was laying upon the concrete floor of the old church.

Albert paced frantically around the pentagon design, inspecting it with a heightened sense of curiosity. He tried to move one of the pews to one side to clear a path. As he struggled he realized the weight of these solidly made wooden benches. "I didn't hear this?" he questioned, his voice etched in pure frustration. He glanced at the church's front door; it was still locked, wedged, and decorated with the makeshift pots and pans. "How did they get in?" he asked, now in a softer voice. "This," he pointed as if making a gesture to an imaginary friend, "is not my imagination. Someone," he paused for a couple of seconds in mid-sentence, "or worse still, something, has done this." Albert scratched his head, allowing himself to fall heavily onto one of the wooden benches as he took a seat. There were only two possible explanations that would come remotely close to explaining these events. Either he was the perpetrator; he could have unconsciously moved things around while he was still fast asleep, a sleep walking explanation had to be considered. The second explanation was more sinister; he'd already discounted meddling mischievous kids for they couldn't get into the church. His second option was an entity. Perhaps a spirit or a poltergeist still attached to the church. He'd studied this phenomenon during his Pastoral training, but he'd never encountered anything like this before. Albert placed his head in his hands reflecting upon his predicament, "God, please give me strength," he muttered to himself releasing his head and glancing at the crucifix. It should have been hanging on the church wall, now it was lying on the floor. Albert had never been prone to sleep walking, he was a light sleeper and couldn't imagine himself having the faculties to unlock his living quarters door while still asleep. He knew he didn't have the strength to move the pews on his own, or the height to remove the crucifix from the altar wall without a ladder. He glanced at his hands, there were no signs of callouses, blisters, cuts, bruises or drywall dust. Albert's hands were clean; they didn't show any signs of a busy night's work arranging a pentagon design in the center of the church. He knew, deep in his heart, there was only one rational explanation left, no matter how irrational it sounded.

Albert was not living alone at the church, and his co-occupant had made it very clear that he was not welcome here. "Who's living here with me?" he cried out, his words echoing around the main hall. "Whoever you are, know that I'm here to do God's work. I'm going to look after this church and restore its place in the community. There's no need to be angry with me. I don't know if you're a parishioner, a Pastor, or a troubled spirit" again he paused feeling slightly embarrassed that he was talking to no one, "but if this is your work Pastor Reginald, then don't worry. I promise you, I'll look after your church."

Albert took a deep breath before rising; he pushed his body against one of the pews to move it back into formation. He managed to move the end of the solidly constructed bench about an inch. In desperation he threw his hands up in the air, "There's no way I did this in my sleep," he turned and sat on the nearest pew. Albert was becoming frustrated, how was he going to deal with this? His thoughts turned back to Pastor Reginald Frost. Albert wondered if this was his spirit, or perhaps an entity had taunted Reginald, finally causing him to lose his mind? It was then that a cold shudder ran through Albert's body as a dark thought pushed its way uninvited into his mind. Perhaps this entity had finally won. Did this thing cause Pastor Reginald's death? Albert glanced around the main hall in a state of panic; this was the place, the location of Reginald's demise. "Get a grip Albert," he muttered to himself. "I'm a man of God, he'll protect me and show me the way, and all I have to do is believe."

Albert's moment of blind faith was suddenly interrupted by a loud banging noise coming from the church's front door. Albert's first instincts were to run and hide. Then his fight response kicked in and he ran towards his living room to retrieve the rake propped against the wall. Dressed only in a robe and armed with a garden rake he ran back into the main hall, his heart pounding and his adrenaline surging through his body. Albert found himself at the front door, as the banging noise continued. It was only then that he realized there was a pattern to the banging. Someone was knocking on the front door, trying to get his attention. It was two slow knocks followed by two fast knocks. Albert raised his rake and approached the door cautiously, "Yes, who's there?" he shouted, his voice booming within the main hall. It was engineered to have amazing reverberation qualities and acutely tuned acoustics.

A male voice could be heard from the exterior of the church. "Pastor Albert Fergusson, my humble apologies for disturbing you, my colleague and I need to speak with you urgently. Can we come inside and talk with you please." It was an opening line that they'd practiced over and over again, designed to gain the Pastor's trust through the polite tone yet leave an intriguing question around the nature of the conversation. They were playing upon his natural curiosity.

Albert looked at the pentagon and shook his head, "It's not a good time right now - sorry, the church isn't open yet and it's still a mess in here. Can you come back in a few days, by then it'll be cleaned up and I'll be happy to talk with you. So sorry, I'm just not prepared yet to receive anyone right now."

There was a moment's silence before the voice outside tried again, "Pastor Fergusson, we're emissaries of the Catholic church. Please, we've travelled a long way to get here; our visit is of the utmost importance. A request was made, it was sanctioned by Rome and this is a matter of some urgency."

Albert heard the emphasis attached to the word 'Rome,' it was clearly a display of referent power, when you assume the might and power of another authority that you're associated with.

"I want to speak with you, but now is not a good time. Perhaps if you allow me to shower, and get dressed, then I can meet you in Abilene, there's a coffee shop on Main Street where we can have a tea or a coffee and discuss your urgent business?" Albert was trying to find an amicable solution, but he didn't want visitors to see the benches.

Albert's response was met with another pause. "Pastor Fergusson," the tone in the young man's voice had changed, it seemed slightly annoyed. Albert thought he might have offended the delegates waiting patiently on the other side of the barricaded church door. Albert gripped the rake tighter as he braced himself waiting for a curt response. "I agree, you should get dressed and then open the door. This will give us all a chance to properly review the design of your benches. They're clearly causing you a lot of distress." The man sounded nice and polite yet Albert wanted to scream at him. He wanted to be angry at this person, as he shot a worried look at the pentagon design.

Albert muttered to himself quietly, "How did he know about the benches? Perhaps these people taunting me outside are the pranksters?"

The voice outside continued, "We know it's stressful, but we were sent here to help you. This is a delicate matter, the parishioners and the church don't need to know of this matter, this entity." The voice sounded like it belonged to a young man but it sounded genuine and friendly. Albert was having a hard time disliking this individual despite his obvious reservations.

The young man had used a very powerful word - 'entity.' It seemed to reverberate around the main hall, bouncing off every wall and amplifying its volume within Albert's ears. "Entity," Albert repeated under his breath. "How should I play this?" Albert tried to rationalize his thoughts, "I could try to cover this up or just come clean."

"I'm sorry, who are you again?" Albert inquired trying to buy himself some time to think.

"We're here to help you, we were sent to remove the entity that currently resides in your church. We don't have much time, each day it grows stronger. Pastor Reginald had first reported this entity to the Catholic Church. He tried to keep it quiet because he didn't want to alarm his parishioners, or his superiors. Pastor Reginald had long standing powerful connection into Rome through a close friend. Apparently they'd studied together earlier in his vocation. This friend contacted us, and we were asked to come here. We didn't hear of Pastor Reginald's death until recently. The Catholic Church takes these things very seriously; we believe this entity may have been instrumental in the Pastor's untimely demise. If left unattended, it's going to grow stronger and gain more power. This entity poses a significant threat to your wellbeing. Pastor, please, this is not the way to discuss a delicate matter. Shouting through a door, out here in the open - well it's not right. Can I ask you to get dressed and let us in please so we can have a civil conversation about this?" The young man sounded polite, courteous, informed and respectful. Albert had his doubts but was finding it difficult to turn down his suggestion.

The young man's request hung in the air unanswered. They decided to wait him out letting the power of the uncomfortable silence weigh heavily upon Albert's mind. Finally, the silence was broken, "OK give me some time to get organized and then I can hear what you have to say. When I'm ready, I'll unlock the door and we can talk, ok?" Albert sought their permission, intimidated by the fact that they seemed to know more about this than he did.

"Sounds good, we'll wait for you here," responded the young man.

From outside of the church, Dan could hear him through the main doors; the distinctive sound of clanging and banging as Albert disassembled his makeshift pots and pans security contraption. He removed the wedged-in chairs leaving the door clear but locked. He hurried to his living quarters and quickly dressed selecting his more formal Pastor's robes. Albert ran his hands under the water within the kitchen sink and flattened his hair using his wet hands. He glanced at the contraption he'd rigged up to secure the kitchen window and thought about removing it. "I don't have time," he whispered. He thought about moving the couch back into position. This would take too long; he'd left the emissaries waiting outside. Albert raced through the door leading to the main hall, he closed it shut behind him effectively blocking out any evidence of paranoia generated from the evening before. He ran to the front doors and tried to catch his breath. He gasped for air taking a few large gulps. Albert reached for the bolts and unlocked the door. He exhaled loudly, tugged at the heavy door and opened it to the bright sunlight.

Albert took a hesitant step outside where he was greeted by two figures their backs turned to the morning sun, facing the church door. Albert struggled to focus his eyes upon the waiting pair, the sun's brightness turning the shape of their bodies into a fuzzy mass. Albert raised his hand to shield himself from the bright light. His blurry vision resembled images so expertly portrayed in a Monet painting. They moved a little closer, Albert's eyes adjusted to the bright light. He was surprised to see a clean-cut young man accompanied by a vibrant young woman. They looked to be in their late twenties. He was surprised, he expected two men of the clergy, yet neither of these young visitors were dressed in robes. They were wearing jeans, sneakers and t-shirts. Albert was immediately suspicious. The young man looked strong, handsome and healthy. The young woman was pretty with long auburn hair and no makeup. The young woman carried a large black Adidas sports bag, the type the kids used when transporting their gym clothes. Albert's suspicions grew; "The Catholic church sent you?" he inquired.

The young man stepped forward smiling politely. They'd decided to address the obvious question head on, "I know we're not what you were expecting. We were hoping you could keep an open mind. We've been asked to come here because we have some specialized skills." Dan paused trying to read Albert's initial reactions. "Our abilities allow us to specifically deal with the unique type of problem that you have." For some inexplicably reason Albert immediately liked this young man. He couldn't quite explain it, and he tried to resist, but he liked him. The young man seemed calm, polite and thoughtful. "That's why we're here."

He extended his hand to offer Albert a small ivory colored business card. Albert retrieved the card and began to examine it carefully. It was a crisp new business card containing the seal of the Pope of the Catholic Church neatly embossed across the middle in a rich gold color. Strangely the card was devoid of any words or names. Albert examined the card expecting to see the young man's name, department or a job title. Albert felt a little awkward so he flipped the card over to see if the young man's credentials were written on the other side. To his amazement there was only a design. Albert examined the familiar pattern, its graphic design embossed upon the card in rich raised golden lines. Albert's eyes visibly widened as he recognized the pentagon shape containing a crucifix cross placed within its center.

He raised his eyes and stared at the young man speechless. It was an exact replica of the design he'd discovered within the main hall of the church. Staring at the young man with his mouth open he'd failed to notice that the young woman was now standing closer to him.

"What is this?" Albert was confused.

"We're here to help," she said in a calming way. "We want you to understand, we've seen this entity, this pattern before. We know what you're dealing with here. We've been asked to come here, to eradicate this entity from your church," the young lady articulated the request with a soft but assured voice.

Albert just nodded, "What's in the bag?" he inquired, the first thing he could say to buy himself more time.

"I think it would be better if we could all go inside, where we can talk more privately," suggested the young man in a respectful way.

Albert was starting to feed his suspicions. Something didn't feel right, but for some strange reason he didn't consider them a threat. They both appeared to be polite, respectful kids. They were well groomed, well dressed and articulate. Albert made a decision he would later agonize about. Against his better judgement he decided to lead them indoors into the main hall, without pressing them on the contents within the bag. They walked through the church's double entrance doors where Albert closed the heavy door behind them. The young lady selected a wooden bench motioning Albert to sit. Keeping them both within his sight and at a comfortable distance, Albert also sat waiting to hear what they had to say.

She placed the sports bag carefully upon the church floor, leaving it zipped. Albert turned his attention to the young man who seemed fascinated with the pentagram. He inspected its design and retrieved the cross from the floor. He approached Albert and handed it back to him. Talking in a low voice, "I suspect this doesn't belong in the center of a pentagram." Albert took the cross and placed it on the floor at his feet. "We owe you a better explanation - for our visit," he added.

Albert nodded, he always thought he was a good judge of character; a trait he thought would serve him well when he decided to become a Pastor. Albert watched the couple intensely, he couldn't decide if he should trust them or not. Going against the niggling feeling deep within his gut he'd let them into the church and now he was questioning his own judgement. There was something about this pair that Albert liked, his heart was telling him to trust them. His head was acting in a more rational way; he wanted to know their true motives. 'Head or heart,' he thought, 'which one should I feed.'

The young lady took over, "We're here to help you. We're really motivated to remove this evil entity from your church and your life. This church is now home for this thing; we need to set-up our trap and perform a cleansing ritual as soon as we can. I know," she said slowly, "It sounds weird and perhaps a little scary but it's actually a series of well planned steps, specifically designed to exorcise this entity before it grows too powerful, before it does any more harm." she waited for a response but Albert keep his cards close to his chest showing no emotion. "We know this evil spirit well, we know the damage it can do if it's left unchecked. Unfortunately, that's why we have to act fast. Listen, I'm really sorry if we come across as being a little pushy or direct. The fact is we're racing against the clock." She waved her hand pointing and pointed it at the wooden benches, "This is a warning. This entity will do anything to feed upon your fear. That's how it grows its power. Trust me, it will show no remorse in killing any of us to ensure its survival. We've seen this pattern before, but we know how to defeat it. Pastor Fergusson," she said switching to a more formal approach, "we'll need your help, will you help us?"

Hearing the question the young man had turned his gaze away from the church pews to look directly at the Pastor now squirming with uncertainty. For the briefest of moments the church grew eerily silent, a small faint sound could be heard in the distance from the road outside as a car glided by making a dull low droning noise. The fight between the Pastor's head and heart continued. He wanted to trust them but their story just seemed to niggle away at him. It was so convenient that they arrived when they did. They didn't appear to be gloating, as you would expect them to do if they were the perpetrators of this childish prank. They seemed mature, conducting their nosiness with a serious tone. Either they were very talented actors or this was appeared to him as genuine. It was at that moment during his frantic deliberations that Albert decided they were not the perpetrators of an elaborate hoax. He couldn't stand the deafening silence anymore, "Of course," he blurted out, a barrage of thoughts swirling around in his confused head. "I need to have this church operational within a week. It needs to be ready for my first sermon." As soon as he'd said the words his doubts came flooding back.

"We understand," the young lady empathized. "The Catholic church is anxious to get the Sacred Heart Parish church up and running again just as much as you are. First, we must rid the church of this evil entity. We don't want it scaring away your congregation and attracting unwanted attention. We don't want you to be here alone either, for when this thing decides to turn nasty and it will, it could be fatal."

Her words were powerful, heartfelt, and delivered with such assuredness that it got Albert's full attention. The fact that this entity could move heavy furniture around was frightening enough; the possibility of violent behavior was something that definitely needed to be avoided. "I shouldn't tell anyone about this, right?" Albert questioned sheepishly.

"That's right, the least people that know about this, the better. That's how we always operate." The young man finished his response before turning his attention back to the pentagram design.

Albert didn't feel threatened but that that niggling feeling that something wasn't right reared its ugly head again, "I have to ask you two, who are you? Where are you from, what are your names? What do I call you? For me to get comfortable with you both I'm going to need to get to know you more," asked Albert turning to the young woman.

He watched her response carefully. "See the thing is, we're trying really hard not to use our names. I know it sounds odd but you must understand. We have an evil entity living within this church right at this very moment. It can hear everything that we say to each other and it doesn't follow any rules. It wouldn't be wise to share our names or indeed give it any personal details. Our goal is to provide this thing with as little information as possible. Any little edge that it can use to intimidate, infiltrate, and manipulate us, will be used. We know from experience that it'll try to any method available to antagonize us, rile us up to get a reaction and we know it will stop at nothing. It'll use any trick that it can, no matter how despicable to stop us from removing it's presence from this place."

Albert shook his head, "Then let's go outside and you can tell me who you are out there. How do we continue on with our conversations, even though I don't know your names, or anything about you, that just seems odd to me?"

"Agreed, but we can't furnish you with information that the entity may use. We get it, this whole situation is odd," he pointed at the wooden benches. Albert had to admit, the young man had made a fair point. That still didn't ease the suspicion he had lurking beneath his friendly exterior.

"Let's explain to you how this is going to work, that might help. The sooner we can start this process, the sooner this will all be over and we'll be out of your church and on our way." The young woman tried to steer the conversation back to an action plan.

"We have a ritual that we'll need to perform, it's a strict routine that has to be adhered to. We always approach an entity like this - the exact same way. Here's what we need to do. First, we'll work with you to move these benches. We'll clear a wide open space where this pentagram is now positioned by pushing the benches up against the walls," she pointed to the walls in an exaggerated gesture.

She turned her head towards Albert, "Then," she pointed to her gym bag, "We burn some sage to smudge the stale air and remove any negative energy left in the church. Once we're satisfied with the set-up, then we'll place four stones on the floor, one at each corner. They'll be separated by an exact and equal distance marked out by chalk in the shape of a square that encompasses the space where the pentagon was. We'll have to wait until the sun goes down. This is where you need to trust us Pastor," the young woman moved her gaze from the young man to look the Pastor directly in the eye. "It will turn into an ugly fight, an epic battle of wits and will. That's when we both play to our strengths, we're a good team and we've done this before. We'll use the strength of the ritual, but remember this evil entity can hear every word that we're saying. Even now. So, we don't want to spoil this evening's fun, or give him any more information of what's in store tonight, do we?"

"Later this evening, as the sun starts to fade," the young man added, moving closer to Albert, "we'll ask you to do something that every Pastor, Vicar, Clergyman, Choirboy, Bishop and even the Pope, never wants to do." Albert's face started to look concerned. The young man continued, "And that ask is for you to leave. It's the best way to help us. We really need you to leave your church for the evening and only return the following morning. I know," he said closing down any rebuttal from Albert. "That doesn't feel right. I know you'll be curious about the ritual. I know you'll want to watch what we do, and maybe even see this entity. Those are all reasonable asks. But you must trust us. This will undoubtedly be an ugly fight. This evil entity will always go for the weakest link and try to exploit any weakness to feed its power. We don't want to give it access to an inexperienced, curious Pastor who hasn't been trained in fighting the darker forces of evil. Faith is never enough in these circumstances, ever." The young man tried to explain the dangers present, there was no questioning his logic but he could sense the disappointment his statements had created.

"Unfortunately, he's right you know. When we battle an evil entity, especially a nasty one like this, we have to do it alone. We have to focus all of our collective attention on beating this thing and sticking to the ritual. We can't afford any distractions. The truth is we would be worrying about you and that would be taking away some of our focus. I'm sorry Pastor, we need to focus our entire energy on the task at hand," she added stating the plain truth.

"I get it, and I reluctantly agree with your logic. There's no doubt, I am curious, and I do want to see this thing, to face it," the Pastor lamented. Everything they said made sense but he still harbored some seeds of doubt about this couple. He didn't know how they'd conveniently appeared with inside knowledge of the bench design. He kept those thoughts to himself.

The young woman nodded, "Our ask is simple, a show of faith, we need you to leave for the evening. Go far away and only return when the sun's back up first thing in the morning. I know we're asking a lot. We're asking you to trust us implicitly. Can you promise us that you'll do this please?" Albert was still unsure but he found himself reluctantly nodding his acceptance. "We'll take precautions and lock ourselves inside the church tonight, but you can't be anywhere near us. He'll try to exploit that if you're close. It will weaken our ability to fight him. Do you have a place to stay overnight, or a hotel perhaps?"

Albert thought quickly before nodding, "Yes, I have a friend I can call, he's about an hour's drive out of town. I can stay with him and his family for the night."

Seizing on his compliance, the young woman pressed home their advantage, "You'll have to make up an excuse. I suggest fumigation. Promise us you'll not return tonight, it will place us all in great danger if you do."

"I promise you I won't, I don't want to jeopardize your," he paused to think of the exact word, "ritual. I just want this thing gone, before it turns malicious. My priority is to get this church back to normal." Albert watched the young man nodding his agreement. Albert had said all of the right things but his doubts resurfaced, he knew nothing about this couple. He decided he would make a phone call and try to validate their credentials before he simply handed over his church to complete strangers.

"Trust us, that's what we all want," she said glancing at the space where the pentagram had been.

The rest of the day was spent moving more of the benches and cleaning the church's main hall in preparation for the ritual. It seemed to Albert that they were making busy as they waited for evening to arrive. During a small break Albert managed to slip away into his living quarters where a phone was located. He locked the door from the inside and retrieved his diary containing a section with contacts and phone numbers.

Albert called the head Pastor and was surprised that he answered in person on the first ring. He explained his encounter with the two individuals alleging to be from Rome and wanting an audience with him. He left out pertinent details relating to the removal of an entity and the recent incidents that had occurred within the church. The head Pastor confirmed he had no knowledge of any visitors and stated that he would know if Rome was sending any emissaries to his region. Albert's suspicions grew.

"Is this what we'll look like when we're older, or is this the Dream Cane's work?" questioned Ally.

"Not sure, why?" replied Dan distracted by his tasks.

"Well, you're a bit taller and you've filled out a bit, I like it," she said staring at Dan's muscular biceps.

"And you have some curves," Dan said with a cheeky grin.

"Do you like my curves?" Ally asked laughing through the words.

"Yup," said Dan feeling his face flush.

When Albert arrived Dan helped him hang the crucifix back onto the wall. As the hours ticked away Albert started to procrastinate. He stewed upon the information he'd gathered from his conversation with the head Pastor. The sun ambled its way across the sky high above the Smokey Hill River. The day seemed to drag on and Ally decided the best course of action was to keep the restless Pastor busy. She assigned him some tasks to complete. The Pastor helped with moving pews, creating space, brewing up tea and other activities that would prepare for the evening's events. Finally, it came to a boil within him and the Pastor was ready to address his suspicions head on.

"I need to talk to you two", he said in a friendly tone. He'd established there were no weapons in their bag; they were not armed. He'd studied them both for concealed knives or any other type of weapon. Albert had slipped a screwdriver into his back pocket from when they were hanging the cross back onto the wall. Armed with the screwdriver he began his questioning. They both approached sitting on separate benches.

"What do you need to talk to us about?" asked the young man.

"I'm a Pastor, I value the truth. I can't seem to shake this niggling feeling about you two and I can't quite put my finger on it. It was mighty convenient that you both showed up and I don't know who you are. Not even your names. I made a phone call this afternoon to see if you were expected here and you weren't. Now you ask me to leave the church in your hands, unattended. I don't know who you are, or where you're from. I don't know who sent you here and I can't tell if you're legitimate. That's a pretty big leap of faith you're asking me to make. And quite frankly, I'm not comfortable doing that. Everything you say makes sense but what would you do if you were in my shoes? Why should I trust you both? I've decided I'm not going anywhere." The Pastor reached behind him to locate the handle of the screwdriver.

Albert watched them intensely but they both remained still and calm. Ally was the first to respond, "I get it. We'd probably feel the same. If you called the Vatican themselves they would deny our existence. This is not the sort of thing the church wants to be associated with. It's not progressive. Good and evil, goblins and angels, this represents the old church. It's not topical today and it's not the way to keep the church vibrant, relevant and current. Today people think of the bible as not being literal but merely a contextual interpretation. For example a chariot of fire racing across the sky is now being cast as a UFO. And so there are many in the church that doubts the existence of the Devil, or evil entities. Instead they see this as an interpretation of the internal struggle that each person faces. Good and evil are reflected within their choices. People like us beg to differ. We've inhaled the foul smelling air; experienced the rooms grow icy cold and stared into the face of vile creatures and entities. We know what evil looks like and what it can do. We have chosen and to fight on the side of light and good. It's a fight, a very real fight. The books, the songs, the paintings and the stories from times past are true and just as relevant today. Evil can manifest itself in many forms and in many ways. The church has tried to stand for good, and has fought evil on every front throughout the years. I'm rambling here, but we're here to help you. We want to beat this thing and we work in a branch of the church that they'll never publicly acknowledge. We don't do this for the publicity; we do this to help people. You're right, you wont find anyone in the church who will admit that we even exist. If you don't trust us, we'll simply walk away and wait for you to call us back." Dan marveled at Ally's passionate plea, he found her fabricated story utterly convincing.

Pastor Albert now seemed convinced; she seemed to be telling the truth. "I'd like to believe you, but put yourself in my shoes. If I leave the church, it's enough time to back a truck up and clear this place out." The Pastor rubbed his face. He was torn, what should he do?

Dan attempted to ease the Pastor's concerns. "I think you know what you have to do. Trust us, put your faith in us. If we had wanted to rob you we wouldn't have spent so much time with you and allowed you to see our faces. We're not armed or equipped for robbery we have chalk and sage. We're armed to fight an evil entity. Trust us Pastor, we're here to address more important, more dangerous things than robbery. You don't know who we are; yes, it's better that way. You'll be nervous for one night, we wont let you down, and you have our word. Then when you return in the morning everything will be back to normal, the church will be ready for operation and you'll be rid of this thing. That's why we're here. And one last thing; there will be no trucks and no other people, we always work alone, just the two of us."

The Pastor stood then paced nervously, "I'm done if you two take advantage of me. I know I shouldn't do this, but I'm going to place my faith in you both. I'll do it but in the name of God, don't let me down. I'll contact the police and they'll find you if you're playing games with me. It's a very dangerous game, one that will change the course of your young lives. It will be foolish and shortsighted." The Pastor shook his head. "I hope you really are here to free me of this entity, for the other path is just as evil."

Ally approached the Pastor; she reached her hand out and touched his forearm. She'd read that physical touch is a powerful way to underline a heartfelt message. "No, its not deception and robbery is also bad, but this entity is worse. Trust us, its pure evil. That's what we'll be facing tonight and that's why we're here." Ally let her hand fall and walked back to the bench where she sat. She needed to end this conversation and move the Pastor forward past his reservations. "I know the timing isn't good, but we need your help in one last detail for our preparations for tonight. This will be our final ask, I promise."

"A final ask," repeated Albert.

Ally turned her back to Albert; she fussed with the contents concealed within her gym bag. "I need the blood of Christ for our ritual," Dan shot her a confused look. "Wine, we need a bottle of good strong red wine. Not the type you give out at communion, I need a bottle of the good stuff; do you have any Pastor?"

Albert thought about the contents of his living quarters, it was an easy answer, "I'm sorry, I don't."

"Can you run into town and buy us a bottle please? It's important; we'll need it for the start of the ritual. We need the blood of Christ, and the red wine has to be strong." Once again Ally expressed her needs convincingly. Dan was convinced this was part of their plan, was it a detail that he'd missed?

After a moments hesitation the Pastor agreed, "Yes, of course. I'll get my car keys and my wallet and go get some wine. Any type of wine, right?"

"That's right, as long as it's red and strong please," she repeated. Albert changed from his work clothes into fresh civilian clothes. He located his car keys and wallet, before heading towards the door. Ally intercepted the Pastor; "If you think about it, this is a chance for us to show you how serious about this we are, it's a chance to demonstrate your trust in us. When you're gone we could easily grab anything from the Altar and simply bolt out of here. I know that was your initial fear. Trust us, everything will be here when you return, including us. But I need to ask you, please, not a word of this to anyone. Consider what would happen if what we are doing here gets out, it'd be ugly. If anyone asks about the wine, tell them it's a gift for an acquaintance. That's essentially the truth."

Albert felt a little better hearing the young lady's assurances. He nodded, smiled, and walked towards the main door, but he still had an uneasy feeling rumbling around in the pit of his stomach. Suddenly he stopped and paused at the door. He stood silent for a couple of seconds before turning back to face the young couple. "I have a question for you two, something that's been bothering me and I have to ask. How did you know about the pentagon design with the crucifix? Tell me how the exact design was embossed on your card?" Albert's tone had suddenly changed, he stared at the young man his tone was accusatory. During the day this very thought had crossed his mind constantly. He'd suspected that he was working with the perpetrators of this stunt.

The young woman approached slowly rising gently from the wooden bench. She walked towards Albert, "Pastor you have to understand, we know this entity well, we've seen it before. We're confident we can get rid of him for you, but he's devilishly sly and cunning. Sometimes, the best that we can possibly do is just moving him on. We try to corner him, restrain him, eradicate him, but often we just have to chase him off. He will always start his pattern of activities with some innocent little pranks. These are designed to irritate, annoy and tire his victims. He starts by moving things around, the TV, your wallet, and kitchen cabinets on walls, light fixtures, things that can't be explained. Incidents are orchestrated maliciously where you start to question your own sanity and beliefs. Then he escalates, he always constructs a pentagon and creates or finds a cross. He'll use any common objects anything that he can find. From there it starts to get ugly, we've seen flying knives, shards of broken mirrors, insect infestations, objects used as weapons, injuries and even the use of electricity. Eventually a combination of attacks and injuries will either force the occupant out of the house, or in this case, the church. If you stay, he will eventually kill you, let's be clear about that. It's always the same pattern, we follow him around, we're usually called in with the hope that this time we can pin him down long enough to stop him for good."

"So that's how we knew of the design and why it's on our card, and we've seen the damage this entity has inflected upon countless numbers of other victims. This time, he's chosen a church," Dan lowered his voice to a whisper, "and that will be his downfall. This is a holy place; we're hoping it will act like a restraint. It will buy us enough time to complete the ritual and eradicate him for good. We don't just want to move him on," barely audible, Dan sounded convincing.

The Pastor listened intently, he turned to leave as he mumbled, "Ok, I'll get the wine."

Albert closed the door behind him, the young couple waited until they heard his car engine start. It was followed by a familiar crunching sound that gravel makes underneath a car's tires. The slow drone of his engine faded into the distance as the Pastor travelled into Abilene to purchase a bottle of red wine.

The Pastor decided to visit a convenience store in the south end of the town just across the river and adjacent to the highway. It was a short drive and one that would allow him to collect and analyze his thoughts. Albert was casually dressed; he would easily blend into his surroundings. He was so new to the community he felt confident that no one would recognize him as the new Pastor. He parked carefully in the open lot located at the front of the convenience store. The sun glinted in the store's glass window. Albert locked his car and entered the store, pulling at the heavy metal door fortified with painted iron bars. He quickly surveyed the layout of the store and walked casually towards the section of shelving that contained the bottles of liquor. The teenage store clerk looked exceptionally bored. He managed to summon enough energy to raise his head, offering a cursory look at Albert as he entered the store.

Dressed in jeans, sneakers and a black t-shirt, Albert was quickly assessed as a low risk visitor. The clerk knew from experience the type of individual he needed to watch carefully. Albert scanned the prices prominently displayed on the edge of each liquor shelf. He selected a red wine from California priced in the middle of the range. He didn't spend too much time examining the wine's label, or even the type of grapes the wine was made from. Albert carefully slid a bottle from the high shelf and walked slowly past an assortment of food and snacks before he approached the booth the clerk occupied.

The clerk barely acknowledged the Pastor's existence as he rang up the bottle of wine. "Anything else?" he inquired in a mechanical voice. Albert shook his head and reached for his wallet. He slid a twenty-dollar bill under the security grill, the clerk retrieved his change from the till's drawer. He casually slid the change, and a brown paper bag, back through the window completing the transaction. Once the purchase was completed, and the wine bottle was duly wrapped in the brown paper bag, the clerk returned to more important things like reading his paperback novel.

Albert left the convenience store in a hurry. He walked to his car, unlocked the door, slid into the driver's seat and placed the wrapped bottle on the passenger's side seat. Just for the briefest of moments Albert couldn't move, he was frozen with uncertainty and doubt. Gripping the steering wheel tightly, he asked himself what was he doing? He snapped the seat belt into place and looked at his reflection in the driver's mirror. "Does this make any sense at all?" he questioned his own reflection. More questions raced through Albert's head, who were those young people back at the church? He knew, despite everything they'd said, something just didn't feel right. Was it because they were so young that he didn't trust them? Did they really represent the church? Albert muttered the question he feared the most, "Have I been duped?" Albert couldn't prevent it; a wave of irritation consumed him. Now he felt sure, the kids were playing an elaborate hoax on him. It was clever but they were stringing him along. "What choice do I have but to comply? Then why is it I feel so stupid?" he said staring at his own desperate eyes in the car's mirror.

Reluctantly, Albert turned the key to start the car. The engine turned over and reliably sprung into life. He pulled out of the parking lot to begin his return journey back to the church leading him south across the Smokey Hill River. At the bridge that spanned the river, he glanced upwards through the windshield. He stared at the late afternoon sun making steady progress across the cloudless sky. It wasn't long before Albert was directing the car into the church's gravel parking lot. It still didn't feel totally right to him. "You're both hiding something, you're not telling me the whole truth. But, if you were here to fight an entity, you likely wouldn't tell me everything. Oh God, I'm calling on you please, please help me with this one. I want to walk in there and find everything is normal. Please repay my faith that I've shown in these kids. I want to make the right decision here and I'm so conflicted." He glanced at the wine bottle still wrapped in the brown paper bag, his own words still ringing in his ears. Albert thought about the kitchen cabinets and how oddly they had been re-arranged. An image of the benches purposely arranged in the pentagram design flashed through his mind. "How could they have known about these things, if they didn't do it themselves? The only way to explain this is that they've seen this before and they're telling the truth." Albert grabbed the bottle of wine and prepared to enter the church.

He stepped into the church's main hall letting the large door close behind him. The young woman greeted him first, "Great, you're back. Just put the wine on one of the benches over there please. Thank you for getting us the wine, we really appreciate it – we'll definitely need it."

Albert dutifully complied. As he placed the bottle upon a bench he watched the young man still milling around. Since he'd left, the couple had been busy laying out the final pieces for their ritual as they'd described to him earlier. Albert darted his eyes rapidly in every direction trying to see if anything was out of place. The altar looked exactly how he'd left it; everything seemed quite normal. Albert let a long breath escape his body as a sense of relief swept over him. They hadn't robbed him or taken advantage of his absence. The young woman watched Albert surveying the church.

When their eyes met she smiled, "See, everything in its place. No need to worry, we'll take care of this for you - it's what we do." She sounded so assured. Albert felt guilty for doubting them, but he still did. Albert stayed for a while and checked out his living quarters, everything was as he had left it. He sensed he was now getting in the way and had to face his ultimate decision. Did he trust them enough to leave the church totally in their capable hands? Or, did he feel strongly enough that this whole thing was an elaborate hoax? Perhaps it was an elaborate rouse designed to get exclusive access to the church and its contents overnight. "What am I going to find in the morning?" He questioned himself. "Some kids using the church to perform a satanic ritual? Perhaps an empty church stripped of its valuables? Nah, they could have grabbed the valuables and made a run for it whilst I was gone. Her logic's pretty sound, why would they spend so long with me where I can identify them if their motive was robbery?"

Albert joined them in the church's main hall, "I'm going to pack a few things in an overnight bag, then I'm going to visit my friends, do you need anything else from me?"

"No, thanks. I think we're good here, now we have the wine. We're just waiting for it to get dark really, then we'll begin our ritual." The young man sounded nervous and excited at the same time.

"Very good, I'll return in the morning, as you've requested." Albert walked towards his living quarters hoping with all the faith in humanity that he could muster that he'd made the right choice. When he returned, the smell of burnt sage wafted delightfully through the air. The young man was waving around a smudging feather and a stick of burnt sage. Traces of the pungent white smoke spread across the vastness of the church's main hall. "Right, I'm leaving now," announced Albert. He approached the young female, "Good luck, I guess?" he said sheepishly. He regretted saying it, but couldn't help himself, "Don't let me down," he said. Albert was referring to the faith he was placing in them both about leaving the church in their hands. When he thought about his words in the context of the assistance they were providing ridding the church of this evil entity, his comment came across as rude and ungrateful.

She smiled again, "Everything's going to be fine Pastor, and we'll both be here in the morning to greet you. This thing," she said, waving her hand around in a circular motion, "will be gone. I promise you."

The young man approached, "Thank you Pastor, for placing your trust in us. We won't let you down, this church will be back to normal after tonight." The young man had a look of determination and belief etched across his face. The Pastor examined him carefully, he couldn't bring himself to distrust him fully, for he looked and sounded so genuine.

Albert had no choice; he had to trust them with his church. He needed the help, this entity had to go. He picked up his overnight bag and reluctantly shuffled through the church's main door, it slammed closed behind him. Albert unlocked his car, loaded his overnight bag, and stared at his reflection in the car's mirror. He shook his head slowly, "In for a penny," he said, leaving the rest of the saying unsaid. Albert glanced back at the church one last time; he drove away desperately hoping that he'd made the right decision.

Inside the church, Dan stared at Ally, "Well we did it, that worked, but we still have a lot to do."

Ally smiled, "Yup, but at least we have a bottle of wine to drink while we prepare."

"That was cheeky," Dan smiled at Ally's ingenuity, "we need it for the ritual," he teased in a high-pitched voice mimicking Ally.

"We did good. We got him to trust us because we're likeable and the business card image was a masterstroke. That was the hardest part, but we still have a lot of work yet to be done, a lot can still go wrong." For the first time, Ally sounded nervous.

* * * * *

### The Fifth Realm - Earth

### Chapter 4: Friday night at the Armani bar.

Hong Kong Island, Hong Kong, 2018.

"I've chosen to treat my life more like a party than something to stress about."

It was an intensely hot day the result of cloudless skies. The sun had finally disappeared behind the hills that surround Hong Kong harbor.

The fresh evening air was now aided by warm winds that blew through the city of Hong Kong. The Friday night crowd had already clocked off work and was starting to party in the trendy bars, restaurants, and cafes that lined the downtown 'Central' business district. High above the city's bustling streets Mr. Flash had settled upon a glamorous rooftop terrace. This location was Mr. Flash's favorite evening venue providing a secure place to spend the early part of his evening. Surrounded by a group of his henchmen he breathed the night's clear air deeply into his lungs. Mr. Flash glanced upwards at the vivid night sky. The Armani/Prive rooftop bar was located above the second floor in the Landmark Chater, within the Chater House building, in the 'Central' district of Hong Kong.

The terrace was an elegantly wide balcony that overlooked the bustling street below teaming with cars, taxis, pedestrians, and streetcars. Tall office buildings rose majestically into the evening sky surrounding the party crowd. Glamorous people made a spectacle of their arrival determined to be seen in the city's most trendy place. Reserved for Mr. Flash, a cordoned off section of sofas, chairs and tables signaled his social status. The tables were arranged to form a pattern, each adorned with candles and square-shaped lanterns made of metal and glass. The lanterns were strategically placed upon the hardwood decking providing additional illumination. Track lighting accentuated the raised steps that separated the private party areas adorned with beige colored sofas and round stools. Wooden trellises lined the back of the bar. They were decorated with an assortment of plants; many bloomed with exotic colorful flowers. Smaller tables designed for couples were arranged in a neat row against a glass balcony that hovered precariously over the street below.

The terrace was now bustling with energy when Mr. Flash demanded to see the cigar menu from one of the uniformed waiters. The young man scurried away quickly eager to oblige. The night was still young, at the back of the terrace cordoned off by a group of large men dressed in uncomfortably ill-fitting black suits, the party had already started. Mr. Flash was holding court with a group of his business associates that he referred to as his friends. These men were dressed in expensive clothes, conducted dubious business affairs, and were known as local crime lords. They acted cool, eager to impress Mr. Flash. It was a mixed crowd tonight with an equal amount of men and women. Most of the ladies hailed from Hong Kong Island, with their trendy clothes, glamorous appearance and small waists. Mr. Flash's friends smiled and laughed a lot. The ladies sipped upon champagne and pretended that they all belonged comfortably within this lifestyle. They would compete for Mr. Flash's attention, desperate to be popular while feeding their own ego in the process. It appeared to be a glamorous life, afforded only to the rich and powerful, the beautiful or local celebrities. Tonight, this balcony was the place to be seen and Mr. Flash was taking full advantage of his opulent surroundings.

The bar continued to fill with beautiful people. It contained onlookers trying to be part of the lifestyle, together with established luminaries from the upper society of the Hong Kong's social scene. They all mingled with ease. The drinks flowed, cigars were smoked, and the music blared the latest catchy upbeat tunes. Food started to arrive; a variety of party favors were being consumed. It was shaping up to be another Good Friday night in Hong Kong. Mr. Flash would usually party until late. His jealous and violent girlfriend, an ex-fashion model from Malaysia now living the highlife in a 'Central' district penthouse, accompanied him. She smiled brilliantly, a young calculating woman with immense power and the world at her feet. She sat next to Mr. Flash acting like the attentive host to a party she had no control over and no desire to attend. She didn't love Mr. Flash instead she feared his sadistic nature. She knew this was no way to live her life. She was cool, calculating and brutal. She would wait for her moment, exactly the right time to show her true colors. She smiled knowing she would inevitably kill Mr. Flash taking his power and his money, once she'd learned the trade and the intimate details of his business dealings. Until then she sat elegantly and smiled sweetly.

Mr. Flash would not be described as handsome, but his money and his infamously powerful reputation as a crime boss attracted the fame seekers like moths to a bright irresistible flame. The music had been cranked up causing the bar's occupants to shout as they attempted to communicate with each other. His hand-selected crowd surrounded Mr. Flash. He lay back upon the couch soaking in the scene before him and enjoying the spectacle. His girlfriend leaned over to retrieve her gin and tonic. She smelled as sweet as the night's clear air as she pouted and flicked her long black hair from her bare shoulders. Mr. Flash actually liked this one, he wasn't sure the feeling was mutual but he didn't care. They would be going home together tonight and he would be happy. As he lifted his head, he scanned the other occupants of the bar reclining upon their couches within their party groups. His entourage was located at the back of the balcony, near the wooden tresses. An assortment of couples huddled along the edge of the balcony; they were separated from the high rollers located on the couches, by a wide walkway. Mr. Flash surveyed the walkway trying to recognize the bar's regulars and the people he wanted to talk with. Politicians, wealthy businessmen, designers, artists, and musical celebrities, all frequented the Armani/Prive rooftop bar.

Spontaneously people in the walkway started to move, parting like the red sea. The growing crowd of party people seemed to instinctively clear a path for a striking woman to walk through the crowd. She approached, walking confidently along the center of the walkway with purpose. Rose entered the balcony bar; she'd made it past the doormen and private security by telling them she was Mr. Flash's business manager. She'd fabricated a believable tale that she needed to deliver a discreet message to him immediately. To her surprise, they simply waved her in, fearing the consequences of saying no.

Wearing sneakers, jeans, and a relaxed t-shirt on an evening like this meant she didn't fit in with the bar's trendy crowd. Rose walked slowly and with purpose, confidently striding towards her intended target. Inexplicably people just seemed to get out of her way. She approached the raised platform with ease before two large muscular men dressed in dark suits suddenly blocked her path. One of them stepped forward; she smiled, snapped her fingers behind her back, and invoked a choking spell.

The large intimidating man clawed at his throat instantly and doubled at the waist as he recoiled from the lack of oxygen entering his large frame. Rose glided by the first man and was met by a second. She gave him a defiant stare unimpressed by his large arms and considerable girth. "You may want to consider stepping to one side," she said glancing at the first man choking and grasping at his throat. "I have important business to discuss with Mr. Flash," Rose flashed him another look indicating that she was not to be messed with.

Mr. Flash had seen the young woman confidently approaching as she journeyed down the balcony's center walkway. He assumed from her attire that she was part of the bar's operational team. Perhaps she was logistics, catering, or a sound engineer working within the venue. She strolled through the crowd with a level of total confidence. A woman who knew what she was doing. When she approached his security team, she didn't even pause, she held no concern. The large man using his body as a human shield called out, "Boss, this one says she has business with you, is that right?" he inquired. Mr. Flash leaned lazily to one side, allowing for a better view of the small-framed woman that had approached his private party. Mr. Flash's girlfriend glanced over at the young woman with disdain. She also assumed she was part of the help. Mr. Flash strained his neck further, he could barely see around the guard's wide body. The guard turned slightly offering him a momentary glimpse of the person demanding his attention. They all knew a simple wave of his hand would dismiss the intruder and that's what they expected. The conversation had stopped as the group waited for Mr. Flash to deal with this curious onlooker as he had done so in the past.

Mr. Flash was keen to return to the laughter, the conversation, and his private gathering. He thought, 'This annoying woman should just do her job and stop bothering me.'

Mr. Flash smiled at his girlfriend recognizing the look of irritation upon her face as their party had been interrupted. The broad back of his henchman guarding the entrance was obscuring the woman's face. Mr. Flash was annoyed with the woman inconveniently demanding his attention. She stepped forward moving closer to the henchman, her head was now level with his left shoulder, the huge man still blocking her path. She clicked her fingers again releasing the first man's choking spell, he spluttered and gasped for air. Rose was also growing impatient. Trying hard not to cause a scene, she extended her right hand, placing her palm gently near the large man's left hip. With the force of a large truck she moved her hand to the left. Without touching the man, a force struck his body propelling him to one side. He stumbled trying to apply his considerable frame against the invisible force. Rose held aloft a golden pendant dangling from her left hand raised as high in the air as her arm would allow. She hadn't managed to secure Mr. Flash's full attention. Suddenly, he recognized the pendant's design; it was a pheasant circling a crescent moon.

Mr. Flash turned his full attention to the young woman that stood before him. He sprang to his feet and studied Rose's face. The last time he'd seen this Witch she was dressed in expensive clothes, her hair and makeup was immaculate, and she wafted through a hotel lobby like a long cool breeze. Here she stood today – this time she seemed to be alone and dressed simply in jeans and a t-shirt. "Come forward, approach me," demanded Mr. Flash.

"Are you sure boss," the henchman on the floor asked, knowing she looked like trouble? Mr. Flash waved her forward. His other guards watched her carefully but remained rooted to their posts.

The henchman tried to regain what dignity they had left by standing together and facing the young woman who had expertly disabled them. She glanced back at the two men offering them a sarcastic smile. Under her breath she muttered something inaudible, "One of my junior Ricars would cut you both down to size," she whispered as she strode confidently onto the raised platform. She approached Mr. Flash under the watchful gaze of his entire entourage. They stared at her with a combination of disdain, suspicion, and disgust. This young woman was not appropriately dressed to grace this balcony, yet she'd managed to capture Mr. Flash's undivided attention. This was a feat none of his party crowd, or even his girlfriend, had managed that night despite their best efforts. The situation would get worse for the guests as Mr. Flash waved his hand and issued an order, "Clear them out," he said simply.

The guards started to issue their apologies, "Sorry folks, the boss would like a moment with this young lady. He has important business to attend to." The guests protested, some loudly. "Let's just move over to this next set of couches for now shall we, we'll get you more champagne," said one of the suited men trying to appease Mr. Flash's irritated guests. Reluctantly they filed out, taking up residence in the next reserved section. Mr. Flash's girlfriend remained seated staring at this woman who seemed to have the power to disrupt their evening.

Mr. Flash stared at his girlfriend making the situation uncomfortable for everyone. Finally, she noticed he was looking at her and crinkled her nose in contempt, "What? You need to say something to this woman that you can't say in front of me?" she snapped.

"Leave us," he said calmly, challenging her disobedience.

"I'm only leaving because I can't stand the sight of her," snapped the girlfriend clearly hurt by the rebuff. She stood slowly and gave Rose her best drop-dead stare and sauntered off to the adjoining couches. Rose toyed with the idea of making her journey painful or embarrassing but soon realized this poor girl was actually getting jealous over this nasty conceited old fool.

"Sit," insisted Mr. Flash, "I didn't expect to see you again. Have you brought me something new and exotic for my collection?" he said, recalling the dagger he'd traded for the last time he'd met her.

"You and I need to talk," she said, perching on the side of the couch acutely aware of the number of eyes watching her every move. "How's your skin condition?" she asked calmly, clearly a veiled threat.

"It's fine thank you, and I intend to keep it that way. Where's your pretty-little partner, flying solo tonight? I liked her more than you," he stated in a creepy way.

"She's around," bluffed Rose convincingly. She scooted across the couch until she was sat next to Mr. Flash even though he disgusted her. He was slimy, corrupt, perverted, and gross. He smelt of hard liquor and stale cigar smoke. His eyes were dull and lifeless. Everything about this man repulsed her, yet she tolerated him. She stared at him holding his gaze, "We need to do some business you and I, assuming you want to remain healthy. Do I make myself clear?"

Mr. Flash simply nodded his compliance. "We're going to leave the bar now, and you're going to show me some of your antiquities collection. Let me warn you though, if any harm should come my way, even the slightest bit of distress, well - you and your entire entourage will experience excruciatingly painful deaths. Trust me, the order of Witches has an ancient disease in mind for you. We will evoke a spell that inflicts a plague dormant to this world for hundreds of years. Your intestines will start to eat away at themselves from the inside, turning your blood black. The black poisoned blood will flow into your brain like acid in a car battery. It won't be a quick death but you'll likely kill yourself before it takes its full course, do I make myself clear?"

Mr. Flash had a serious look upon his face; suddenly he didn't feel as relaxed and arrogant as he had earlier in the evening. "Yes," he said stated simply. "So, what do you want from me?" Mr. Flash glanced around the bar nervously, wondering what his next move should be. Should he try to run? Perhaps he should alert his guards? But what could they do? This Witch would find him and he would only make the situation worse. His brain was racing and his heart started to pound.

"I need you to act like nothing is wrong, keep calm. I want you to give the illusion that you're still in control. You and I are going to leave, you're going to take me home with you, and you're going to leave your goons here."

"No. They won't do that. They'll know something's wrong. The big one over there, Marcus, he's the one that will always leave with me. He's assigned as my personal protection and doubles as my driver. I'll need to signal to him that we're all leaving together; he'll just think I have some business to do."

"Well then," teased Rose, "you better convince Marcus that we have some serious business to take care of." She leaned in to whisper in his ear, turning her eyes towards Marcus who was watching her every move, "And it better be a convincing performance. I have a need to see your collection tonight."

"And then you'll leave me alone?" Mr. Flash inquired, his voice trembling.

"Of course, once our business concludes in an honorable way. The Witches of my order will have no vendettas to settle with you Mr. Flash, we'll be happy to leave you alone until the next time we need something from you," Rose laughed loudly. She flashed a friendly smile in the direction of Mr. Flash's dour looking girlfriend. It was an act constructed for Marcus's benefit.

"Before we go anywhere, I have to ask you. Did you find Merlin's necklace?" inquired Mr. Flash.

"We did," smiled Rose, "now we seek something else, and that's where you come in. Finish your drink, and call for your driver, we're leaving." She said it in a way that he dared not question her instructions.

Mr. Flash pointed at Marcus then raised his hand waving it in a circular motion. Marcus moved towards them in a hurry, he moved faster than his large frame would suggest possible. "Everything alright Boss?" he inquired dutifully.

"Yes, everything's fine Marcus. I need to find some papers at the house; this young lady and I are going to go to my residence. We have some serious business that I need to attend to. Leave my tab open so my guests can remain comfortably satiated for the evening." Glancing at his disappointed girlfriend "Let her know that I'm conducting some serious business and have Winston take her home when she's ready." Mr. Flash seemed calm, generous, and relaxed when he glanced over at his girlfriend's livid face. She knew he was going to leave with her but she didn't know why. Marcus had a quiet word with Winston, a large man watching the whole interaction play out. Marcus returned to Mr. Flash who was now standing and straightening out the seams of his jacket sleeves.

"Just the two of you then Sir?" inquired Marcus looking at the strikingly cute girlfriend flashing the most deadly of looks from the other set of couches.

"Get the car ready Marcus, I'm leaving and she's the only one coming with us." Marcus stared at the young woman standing next to Mr. Flash. He was practically fawning over her. Something was not quite right with this situation it was highly unusual. She must represent someone else and Mr. Flash was clearly worried about offending them. Was it the triads? Perhaps it was a debtor or a financier? Marcus stood in silence trying to work it out, "The car Marcus."

"Right away boss," Marcus scurried away determined to get to the bottom of this. What did she want? Who did she represent? What had she said to him? Who was she?

At the rear entrance to Chater House a sleek black Maserati Quattroporte was parked. It's engine purred silently as it waited to transport Mr. Flash to his residence. As Mr. Flash exited the building Marcus sprung from the driver's seat to attentively open the car's passenger door. Mr. Flash's security guards peeled away, leaving him in Marcus's care. Mr. Flash glanced at Rose; he felt uneasy, uncertain how this night would end. There was a bad feeling swirling around in the pit of his stomach. Questions ran through his mind, was she here to retrieve the dagger that she'd foolishly bargained away? Would she rescind the deal she'd offered him previously?

Mr. Flash waved his hand at Rose offering an entrance to the car's luxurious interior. She bowed her head to avoid the low roof as she entered the car. Mr. Flash continued to be flooded with doubt, a disturbing thought flashed through his mind. Did she really have the guts to wield a spell that would kill him? Could this be his last journey home? Should he tell Marcus that this woman posed a significant threat?

He stood immobilized, caught in a moment of sheer indecisive panic, "Well, are you coming," she said impatiently.

Marcus already knew something wasn't right, he could feel it through to his bones. The boss had a certain way of acting, even when he was negotiating. This evening he just seemed nervous. Normally he would never show his nerves. He was being overly careful, he seemed fearful of this woman. Who was she? Marcus deduced she had to be delivering a message from a person or an organization that the boss feared. It was whom she represented that he feared, because this diminutive young woman posed no real threat. Marcus assumed it was gang related; he knew it felt very wrong, "You ok boss?"

"Just drive Marcus, I'm ok." Realizing he'd snapped at his loyal friend Mr. Flash attempted to explain, "I need to conclude some important business, that's all," he whispered as Rose settled into the luxurious leather-bound car seat. Marcus nodded; he knew this was no ordinary business discussion. He was now convinced; she had to be carrying a message from another gang. Perhaps she wanted something the boss had. Marcus was now certain, at the right moment; this woman had an upcoming date with the fishes at the bottom of Aberdeen harbor when her usefulness had expired. That would wipe the smug grin right off her pretty face and change that cocky demeanor.

Mr. Flash climbed into the back seat of the Maserati. Marcus closed the car door and smiled knowingly to himself. He assumed the driver's position and confirmed his destination, "Where to boss?" he inquired making eye contact through the driver's mirror. "Take us to the warehouse in Mong Kok please Marcus," Marcus broadened his smile.

Rose turned her head and shot him a look of distrust, "No - I want to go to your expensive house, I've heard you live high up on the Peak. I've been told the views are magnificent. That's where we're going Marcus."

"But most of my antiquities, the artifacts of my collections, are stored inside my secure warehouse in Mong Kok. I thought you wanted to see my collection, isn't that what you want to see first?" Mr. Flash sounded condescending, he was not at all convincing. He'd tried to pull a fast one by manipulating and controlling the situation. Rose knew only too well what his game was, armed guards would surround the warehouse. This offered him home advantage and a sense of security, stacking the odds decidedly against her. She needed to avoid causing a scene at the warehouse and would not pander to his silly games.

Rose leaned over the car's center console to face Mr. Flash. She pulled her pendent away from her neck and aimed it at Mr. Flash's right hand resting casually on the car's black leather armrest separating the two back seat passengers. Mr. Flash suddenly felt a searing hot pain forming near the knuckle of his thumb. Mr. Flash glanced downwards at his right hand. He saw a red circular welt starting to appear, it was bubbling up on the web of skin that attached his finger to his thumb. The heat spot turned into a larger red circular welt about the size of a bottle top. It burned, stinging like a nettle would. Then the pain increased, searing deeply into the flesh of his hand. It took all his self-restraint not to cry out. He tried to keep Marcus oblivious to the fact he was under this Witch's total control. Rose released the pendant, now suspended by her golden necklace; it fell back to her throat. "I'd really like to see those city views," she insisted, "the city, the harbor, the shimmering lights on a clear night like this, I bet its magnificent," she said smiling sweetly.

"Yes, the view's stunning," he stuttered, desperately trying to mask the pain, "Marcus takes us to my residence please," said Mr. Flash, rubbing his right hand in a futile attempt to make the burning sensation subside. Rose caught Marcus's inquiring gaze in the driver's mirror as he diverted his eyes towards her. She flashed him a confident smile exposing her straight white teeth. The tone had now been set; she was clearly calling the shots.

What were those strange dynamics clearly at play in the back seat of the Maserati? Marcus decided he would need to be extra vigilant as the evening's events smacked of imminent danger. "The residence it is then Sir," said Marcus, sliding the gear stick backwards into the drive position. He pulled the car gently away from the curb. The Maserati was expensive and luxurious; it seemed to glide effortlessly through the narrow streets ascending the steep hill that overlooked the city.

In times passed, on swelteringly hot days the Hong Kong harbor would smell badly. The working-class occupants of the city lived in the bustling garbage ridden streets. Hygiene wasn't a priority as the inhabitants tried to survive in the high heat. Perched comfortably high above the dirty city, only the rich could afford to live high-on-the-hill. This exclusive area was known as the Peak. The winds were cooler, the air was cleaner, the views were majestic from the Peak, and the residences were perched comfortably above the smells and the noise of the bustling city below.

The Peak was close now, as the Maserati ambled its way through narrow roads that winded towards the top of the mountain. The light had almost faded as the day happily succumbed to the night allowing the darkness to fall upon the mountain housing it's winding streets, and expensive residences. Illuminated by a yellow street lamp, Rose could read a street sign embedded neatly into the crevice of a low stonewall. It read Gough Hill Road. The stonewall reminded her of home; how she wished she could be relaxing on Crescent Island right now. The Maserati slowed, Marcus directed his gaze into the mirror to glance at the two occupants sitting silently in the back seat. Mr. Flash nodded his final acceptance as a black garage door opened overhead. Embedded in the hillside, the door revealed an underground parking lot belonging to a residence. Rose noticed a heavily armed guard waving at the Maserati as it entered the hidden entrance to the garage. They passed numerous security cameras monitoring their every move.

They proceeded slowly down a brightly lit ramp before coming to rest at an unspectacular black door. A concrete wall set deep within the mountain's sheer face surrounded it. Marcus was attentive; he opened the passenger door on Mr. Flash's side first. Mr. Flash stepped out of the Maserati and walked around the back of the car intent on opening the other passenger's door in a well-rehearsed move designed to impress his female guests.

"Welcome to my humble abode," he said, waving his hand towards the simple black door. Mr. Flash had no clue what was to follow. He waited for Rose's lead. It was clear he was uncomfortable, yet he was resigned to his fate. This feeling of helplessness was difficult for him. For most of his adult life he'd been powerful, intimidating, manipulative, controlling, and always got exactly what he wanted. He'd sacrificed throughout his life, having to occasionally yield to a few powerful individuals. He reluctantly accepted that to gain a political ally, or to cement a relationship that would advance his personal cause. This situation was something completely different, something odd. Never in his life had he felt so weak, so exposed, and so easily manipulated – it scared him.

Occasionally, Marcus would stare at Rose; he tried to work out what the source of this powerful hold over his boss was. Mr. Flash would normally take control; he would treat most of his guests with an air of disdain. Despite his self-centered nature, they would still try to appease him and ingratiate themselves into his inner circle. This situation was remarkably different, Marcus deduced that Mr. Flash was either desperately wanting to do a deal or deathly afraid of her - perhaps both. This was a side of Mr. Flash that he'd never seen throughout his long employment. Mr. Flash turned to face Rose, "This way please, come inside," he said, as the black entrance door seemed to open unassisted.

Rose strode confidently towards the black door where she was met by another armed guard standing just inside the doorway. She smiled at his scowling face and walked past him easily. Ahead she could see a wide wooden staircase that swept upwards into a vast open plan living area adorned with antique furniture and priceless antiquities. As Rose entered Mr. Flash's residence she realized it was a vast multi-level dwelling built into the hillside offering sweeping views of Victoria harbor and the Mong Kok skyline. The wide wooden staircase that also swept downwards to another level below was the central spine connecting this vast house. She'd never seen any home designed like this, a vast living quarter that rivalled her space within the castle on Crescent Island. She wandered through the assortment of couches, chairs, rugs and vases, before stopping at a large glass-dividing wall. It separated the house from a spectacularly wide open-air terrace adorned with couches conveniently arranged to appreciate the spectacular view.

"Well, this is it. The view you wanted to see so badly, here it is a collection of sparkling lights, skyscrapers, hillside residences and Victoria harbor. Beautiful, isn't it?" Mr. Flash approached Rose, stopping just behind her. She could see his reflection in the glass terrace divider. Rose didn't pass through the glass divider; she refused to waste precious time on the inconsequential vista. Rose had more pressing business on her mind. It was obvious they were playing a game of cat and mouse but Mr. Flash was so clueless he didn't even know the rules of the game he was attempting to play. Rose had the pendant and he was at a clear dis-advantage. He was in no position to make a rash move, or make a poor decision by trying to exert his authority.

When Rose reflected upon her plan she suddenly focused upon the task at hand and broke away from staring aimlessly at the pretty view. She had watched Mr. Flash approach her; his reflection was clear in the glass terrace-dividing wall. She'd diverted her attention to the wall behind him. It was clad in wallpaper with a golden sheen, with seven randomly positioned square shaped cut-away inserts. High intensity puck lights illuminated each insert. Each square shaped shelf was manufactured from the finest mahogany, the inserts sealed by a sheet of clear glass for added security. Behind each thick glass pane, the recessed windows contained a uniquely jeweled dagger. Mr. Flash was a vain man. He liked to flaunt his power and wealth for all to see. His oversized ego wouldn't allow him to place his prized possessions in the safety of a warehouse container deep within a guarded facility. That was not his style. Instead, he wanted to appreciate his daggers and ensure that others could appreciate his wealth. They were a reminder of his power, stature, and considerable influence. Mr. Flash had proudly displayed the Seven Daggers of Xiang, taking pride of place within his living area at his primary residence, they were displayed for all to see and admire.

"Do you know what I'd like," stated Rose calmly? She continued to stare at the view of Victoria harbor with her back fully turned to Mr. Flash. Mr. Flash was so close to her, she could feel his breath bristling the small hairs on the back of her neck. He was trying to intimidate her and make her feel vulnerable. Unfortunately for him, his crude attempts had the opposite effect.

"And what would that be," he asked in a relaxed condescending tone.

Rose turned around fully to face Mr. Flash; their faces were now mere inches apart. "I'd like you to send all of your guards and attendants home, at once - everyone." She watched a look of sheer panic spread across Mr. Flash's face. "Marcus can remain in the car, he can wait in the garage, do you understand?" she said coldly, reaching up to touch her pendant in a move that served to issue a serious warning.

Mr. Flash recoiled from the threat; he had to take it seriously coming from such a powerful Witch. He backed away from her and called for help, "Marcus come here, quickly." Marcus arrived quickly, one hand buried within the flap of his tight-fitting jacket, now resting on the holster strap of his revolver. "Clear the house immediately please, and send everyone home for tonight, everyone. But you stay. Let me know when the house is clear." Mr. Flash recognized Marcus's confused look, he nodded his affirmation as Marcus told him all he needed to know with the serious look in his eyes.

"Are you sure boss, this is what you want?" inquired Marcus respectfully.

"Yes, its ok. You can turn the cameras and house alarm back on - once you've sent everyone home. Then I want you to come back here when the building is cleared, do you understand?" Rose watched the conversation with Marcus through the reflection in the glass terrace divider. She kept her back turned to them the entire time. Marcus flashed a look towards Rose making eye contact with her through the reflection of the glass. Marcus rubbed his face, deciding if he should comply. He was still perplexed as to why his boss was pandering to her every whim and placing his personal security in jeopardy. Marcus knew this was strange behavior; under normal circumstances, he would never do that. Marcus trudged away with a combination of frustration and anxiety written across his face. What power did she have over him? Whom did she represent? Was this a clever Triad maneuver designed to take over from Mr. Flash? Who was moving in on his territory? What could he do about this? Marcus's head spun with countless questions and possibilities – none of them made any sense.

One thing was abundantly clear to him, there was a lot at stake this evening. She was playing him like a finely tuned Stradivarius violin. Rose could see tiny lights moving across the harbor, they appeared to be floating above the skyscrapers, as she watched boats moving slowly across the dark water late into the evening hours.

"What plans do you have for me tonight Witch? What plans necessitate the need to send my staff and security personnel home?" Mr. Flash sounded seriously concerned.

Rose turned and walked slowly and deliberately back into the living quarters. She moved towards a luxuriously padded armchair positioned with its back towards the glass dividing windows. She sat in the chair and turned her full attention towards Mr. Flash. "Tonight, we're going to have a conversation. I don't want anyone in this house to know what we've discussed." She paused as if weighing up her next words carefully. "I like you," she lied, smiling her way through her large indiscretion. "I won't harm you if you and I continue to be calm and reasonable." Rose flashed him a reassuring smile, but he didn't trust her. "Do you have cameras or recording devices located inside the house?" she inquired.

"Yes," he answered simply.

"Then kill them all, now." Rose gave him a look that demanded attention.

Mr. Flash walked briskly to a control panel mounted on a wall; he studied the screen before tapping in a code. He turned away and took a chair near the daggers proudly displayed within the wall. "The whole system is now down, when Marcus returns, he'll re-activate the perimeter, but all of the internal security, cameras and motion detectors, will remain de-activated."

She looked at him in a distrustful way, "Good, then we'll wait for Marcus." Rose examined the wall display, her eyes moved across the wall resting upon the fifth dagger. She recognized the shape of the handle. This was the dagger she'd presented to Mr. Flash in exchange for the letter containing the cryptic verse.

Mr. Flash followed her gaze, "The Seven Daggers of Xiang, they look beautiful together, don't they?" he stated proudly. Rose didn't feel the need for small talk so she nodded without making a sound. Mr. Flash felt awkward and uneasy; he knew it would take Marcus some time to clear the house. He reached for a magazine lying on a small table next to his chair and flipped through the pages. He was too nervous to read, so he studied the pictures attempting to look busy.

One of the living room walls was rendered in a rustic grey stone; it gave texture to the living room area. The grey color reminded Rose of the stone shell that cruelly encased Kaan, high in the peaks of the Mountains of Haitden. A surge of anger raged through her body as she recalled her friend frozen in that horrific state unable to fight the mental anguish that Elora was inflicting upon him. If Mr. Flash thought big brutish men dressed in dark silk suits would ever intimidate her, then he clearly hasn't come face-to-face with Elora. She would reduce these so called hard men to lumps of lard.

Rose's mind was wandering, she moved on from Elora and Kaan, next she thought about Raj and finally Dan. She recalled a summer's day in Riveren, before moving on to Ally in her pretty summer dress and those ridiculously tall heels they both wore in Hong Kong. She thought of Jean and how dashing he always looked. Her mind wandered to the sounds a Karcon makes and the three Witches that terrorized her realm. She smiled as she remembered meeting Dan for the first time and his reaction to becoming a Ricar. Poor Raj, she thought to herself. He was a man of honor agreeing to set forth on what he knew would be his last great adventure. Rose thought of Atheria, the Spiritual Leader of the Ninth Realm. If it weren't for her intervention she would have perished on University Avenue in the Canadian city of Toronto. She'd lived through so many close scrapes in her life; it was littered with battles, fights, wars and challenges. Fighting evil is always an exciting profession; so, to fear a fat man in a silk suit or a trumped up local hoodlum with an oversized ego just wasn't going to happen. Rose smiled as she saw Marcus returning to the living room of this spectacular house. He approached sheepishly, "They're all gone, the last one just left. We can activate the perimeter alarm now boss."

"Good," said Mr. Flash placing the magazine down where it rested on the side table. He moved from his seat and walked calmly to the security display mounted on the wall. He peered at the display before activating a function with the press of his finger. The house made a beeping sound as he turned to Rose and explained. "All interior functions are now disabled, all perimeter alarms and external cameras are now re-activated." Rose sat motionless in her chair. She looked at Marcus, she never said a word, and she didn't need to. "Right, - Marcus, could you go down to the garage and sit in the Maserati please. Wait for my next instructions. We need to talk alone and you need to wait in the car until I tell you differently, please." Mr. Flash added the additional 'please' because he knew Marcus would not want to leave them alone.

Mr. Flash had long since reasoned out that with a Witch in the room, even if Marcus were present, Marcus would not have the power to protect him. Mr. Flash was relieved that Marcus didn't need any further explanations of why a slim oriental woman weighing no more than one hundred and five pounds could easily overpower him. Marcus didn't ask, he turned away dejectedly and muttered something inaudible. His dejected look reminded Rose of the pouty face that Dan made in Hong Kong when he was told he wouldn't be part of the mission that she and Ally would conduct.

Marcus descended the wide wooden staircase; they both listened for the door to the garage to close behind him. After a familiar clunking sound, Mr. Flash finally plucked up enough courage to be direct. "Right, I've done everything that you've asked of me, what is it that you want?"

Rose moved from her chair, Mr. Flash suddenly realized how skinny this Witch was, she had small hips and an even tinier waist poured into tight fitting blue jeans. Her navy t-shirt hung off her shoulders yet her arms looked toned and strong. "You and I are going to come to an agreement. We'll both have to honor the different parts of our accord and then, the Order will grant you a full pardon. If you honor our agreements, we'll never bother you again. How does that sound?"

"Sounds good, I'm interested and intrigued. You have my full attention, tell me more," Mr. Flash seemed genuinely interested, he would gladly co-operate if it meant removing these Witches from his life on a permanent basis.

Rose walked casually over to the wall displaying the daggers. "First, we play a game. If you try to deceive me, by lying to a Witch, she snapped her fingers. This honesty spell that I've just cast an honesty spell upon you will automatically activate. You'll be covered in painful red burning blotches. Just be honest with me and I assure you everything will turn out fine tonight. Rose examined the wall carefully. "The Seven Daggers of Xiang, you've done a fine job of displaying them. Tell me about this one, she said pointing to a dagger with its handle encrusted with red rubies." She paused, leaning against the wall and waiting for Mr. Flash's explanation to begin.

"That's the Seventh Dagger of Xiang, marking the accord struck by the feuding warlords. It originates from a jeweler located in the Hofei region. The rubies in the dagger represents the blood spilled in the wars, where the Yangzi River would run red from the blood of the vanquished."

"This one, tell me about this one," Rose said flippantly as she tapped the glass just above her shoulder. She didn't even turn to look at the dagger. The dagger was positioned where the blade of the knife pointed away from her head. The handle was positioned a mere inch away from her ear as she leaned against the wall.

"That one is essentially the odd one out. It doesn't have the opulence of the others. There's no diamonds or rubies, no jewels or precious stones, instead, we have a solid gold handle that holds the dagger. The blade is inscribed with an ancient text. I believe it talks about honor, fairness, respect and dignity. There's a raised pattern etched into the oddly shaped handle, some say it's a map and the lines depict the terrain. Some scholars say it originates from the southern region of China. Experts place the dagger from south of Nanning, on the border of Vietnam. This is the Fourth dagger in the collection. It's the one surrounded by the most amount of mystery and uncertainty. Some have said it's a fake, a replica, due to its plain exterior. This dagger's handle, from a shape perspective, is the most ornate and it binds the other daggers together."

"And what do you think? Is it a reproduction? Perhaps a clever forgery?" she said tapping the glass with her fingernail and turning her head to study the dagger.

"I'm convinced it's genuine. I can't explain the decision to create the dagger this way with such a plain handle. I have a question for you though. Are you stalling for time? Why are we talking about daggers?" he inquired impatiently.

Rose smiled, enjoying his confusion. She decided to educate him, "This is the Fourth Dagger of Xiang, forged in solid gold and commissioned by a warlord who fought for good, righteousness, honor, and an end to the bloodshed. You are mistaken. This dagger does not hail from the south of China, far from it. The dagger was designed and sponsored by the warlord's wife, a strong woman and a prominent white Witch. She hailed proudly from the north, east of Beijing but north of the Yellow River. Today, it would be located over the border into Mongolia. That's where you'd find a wise warlord and his wife. The dagger was forged from local gold, the handle was indeed deliberately plain, unpretentious and yet powerful in its simplicity, just like the people from that region. The dagger is blessed with a spiritual spell, and supported by the most powerful white Witch of her time. She was the driving force behind brokering an accord that ultimately brought peace to the region. The eternal fight against evil was more important than feuding with the neighbors over scraps of land. As evil gripped the land, the Witches managed to convince the warlords that a peace accord detailing a strong alliance was a better option to defeat a common enemy. The inscription on the blade talks about fairness, unity, and fighting for the power of the light. The etchings on the handle resemble the path of the Yellow River and the surrounding terrain. No one questioned the power of the Witches and the Order of the Crescent Moon. They didn't feel the need to impress the other warlords with a show of flashy precious stones. The fact that the handle's shape fits in the center of the other daggers should tell you something. This was a symbol, the power behind uniting the region, the warlords, and the fight against evil. One last piece of information for you," Rose paused deliberately.

"Yes?" inquired Mr. Flash.

"I'm taking this dagger with me when I leave, the white Witches need it. Don't ask me why, because I can't tell you. I can assure you, it will be returned to you in a couple of days. I promise you, it will remain in one piece and unharmed."

Mr. Flash looked at the dagger. It was his least favorite, but the thought of him missing a dagger from his collection was unbearable. He tried to imagine the wall with an empty compartment, it wouldn't look right. "Do I have a choice? Can I loan you something else, other than this dagger? Can we discuss this option at least?" he pleaded.

"I need the Mongolian dagger, the one blessed by the powerful white Witch. I'm going to borrow this, and you have my word, I will return it. It will be the last thing that you'll need to do for us. Take it out of the display case for me now." Rose's tone changed in an instant. She was so close to accomplishing her mission and she wasn't going to back down now. She reached for her pendant, which invoked the reaction she wanted.

"Hold on! You don't need to do that," begged Mr. Flash jumping attentively from his chair. He walked towards the wall and approached the alarm panel. He tapped the screen a couple of times and entered a code. The glass facade sealing each recessed display slid open granting access to the daggers. Rose wasted no time; she reached into the recess and took the golden dagger. She slipped it casually into the top of her jeans and covered the exposed handle with the bottom of her t-shirt.

Rose barked out an order, "Close the display glass now." Mr. Flash dutifully obliged by entering a command into the wall console. "Don't mention this to anyone, do you understand?" He nodded. "If anyone should ask you about the missing dagger, tell them that you've arranged for it to be cleaned, and it will be back in a couple of days." Mr. Flash nodded his agreement.

"Now, get Marcus back in here, I need a ride," she barked. Rose was so close to achieving her objective; she could feel the adrenaline coursing through her body.

Mr. Flash scurried away descending the wide staircase leading to the door and garage. He found Marcus dutifully waiting in the car. "Is everything alright boss?" Marcus sounded concerned.

"I'm safe. I'll explain everything to you later, when I can. Right now we need to get her out of here, take her wherever she wants to go." When Marcus and Mr. Flash returned to the living room they found it empty. The house perimeter alarm was still activated; it would have detected anyone leaving the house. No doors or windows had been opened, and the alarm had remained silent. There was only one viable explanation, Rose was still somewhere inside the house. It was a seven thousand square foot multi-level mansion, set into the side of a hill. It took an hour for the two men to search the house thoroughly room by room. They found nothing. Perplexed, they assumed she had circumvented the alarm somehow or simply vanished into thin air.

Earlier, when Mr. Flash had left to retrieve Marcus from the parked Maserati, he'd been unaware of a blinding flash of intense light that illuminated the entire terrace of the house. In an instant, Rose and the dagger were gone. The cameras located inside of the house had been disabled and no record of her disappearance would be found. Rose had transported herself to the apartment of the old white Witch. When Rose approached the old Witch she had fallen asleep in her favorite armchair. The Crocodile Queen needed to wake her from her peaceful slumber.

"I told you I'd be back for you," she whispered gently, jabbing softly at her elbow.

The old Witch rubbed her eyes, "I'm ready to go," she said, taking one last look at her small apartment.

The old Witch had carefully packed her most treasured things in an oversized linen bag. A letter had been carefully placed upon the kitchen table for the landlord. She bent forward and grabbed the handle of the bag located at her feet. She extended her other hand and closed her eyes. Rose held her hand firmly and they both disappeared into a blinding flash of golden light.

* * * * *

### The Fifth Realm - Earth

### Chapter 5: Poetry, Not in Motion.

The Clent Hills, Birmingham, England, 1763.

"Painting is silent poetry, poetry is painting that speaks."

In the mid 1700's, Sir George Lyttelton, First Baron of Lyttelton, was an established British statesman; together with his trusted architect Sanderson Miller they formed an unusual partnership. Sanderson Miller would collaborate with the Baron to build Hagley Hall and more quirky oddities that would eventually adorn the Hagley estate. Together, they erected the Wychbury Obelisk, a temple dedicated to Theseus. They built a replica castle, constructed using stone recovered from the ruins of nearby Halesowen Abbey. The Baron was an author, and a patron of the arts. He was known for making important advancements in 18th century landscaping design. The Baron was the eldest son of Sir Thomas Lyttelton, and was educated at Eton and Christ Church, Oxford. After completing his education, he decided to gain another form of education by touring Europe with his tutor. It was around this time that the Baron started to publish his early works on poetry and prose. In 1735, he was elected to Parliament. In 1742 he took a wife, marrying Lucy Fortescue but tragically she died five years into their short-lived marriage. Two years after Lucy's death, the Baron married Elizabeth Rich, they remained married until the Baron passed away in August 1773, at the age of sixty-four.

During his full life, the Baron had an impressive political career; he was a member of Parliament for Okehampton from 1735 through to 1756. He held many political positions culminating in 1756, when the Baron was made Chancellor of the Exchequer, a role he did not enjoy. The Baron was an amiable man, sometimes absent minded, with strong religious convictions. He was extremely intelligent but his oratory skills were dull and monotone, which invited spiteful criticism.

The Baron was indeed a gifted and talented man. He loved poetry and was a keen supporter and patron of rising poets. Despite his incredibly successful political career, the Baron will be remembered most in the 19th Century as a poet. Today, a plain memorial stone can be found in St. John the Baptist Church in Hagley, England, where the inscription on the stone reads, 'This unadorned Stone was placed here, by the particular defire, and exprefs di-rection of the late Right Honourable GEORGE LORD LYTTELTON who died Aug. the 24th, 1773: aged 64.'

Sir George Lyttelton, the Baron, dedicated most of his life to the construction and evolution of Hagley Hall and its surrounding park. He spent a small fortune on the Hall and the memorials dedicated to the poets Milton, Pope, Thomson, and his landscaper William Shenstone.

The Baron's most enduring folly revolved around an idea that started with his architect and friend, Sanderson Miller. The Clent Hills are found to the west of Birmingham on the ragged edges of what is now known as the Black Country. The word 'Clent' derives from a Danish word meaning head, in this case a projecting craggy rock. In the summer of 1763, workmen erected four large vertical stones standing over six feet tall and thick enough to wrap your arms around. Each stone was strategically positioned within a different English county, namely Warwickshire, Worcestershire, Stafford and Shropshire. They're located at the corners of a rough square shape spaced about ten-feet apart, and today they still inspire local legends. Some locals believe the stones contain magical powers and are referred to as drinking stones. Upon the Mid-Summer's eve, the stones will apparently move, uprooting themselves from their hill top sentry to quench their year's long thirst at nearby Walton pool. Any witness to this event will die a horrible death within the year.

Clent is steeped in history and lore, the scene of a long-forgotten battle between Roman legionaries and painted wild-men known as Ancient Britons who were battling for survival. The stones were similar to many dotted around the British Isles. Often these stones dated back to Druid structures used for sacrifice and celestial celebrations. The Clent stones were different for they did not represent an ancient site; these stones were a recent addition to the Clent hills. They were installed less than three hundred years ago, and didn't date back to the stone age or even medieval times. The Baron thought the stones would look nice, a welcome whimsical sight viewed from his living quarters at Hagley Hall. At sunset, in the chill of a winter's night, the stones do look majestic and mysterious. They radiate a special indescribable aura. Local Pagans recreate festivals at this site and they talk of strange hovering lights in the sky. There's even an unsolved murder linked to the mystique of the stones.

Why were the stones placed upon the Clent Hills? Are the Druid-like stones a temple honoring the poet Ossian? Are they simply markers for each county? Are they just something nice to see as the sun sets and fades away over the Clent Hills? Only the Baron and his architect will know for certain. Unfortunately, both of these gentlemen are long since departed. The fours stones are now a popular hiking destination. Any literature surrounding the four stones and their details of why, how, and who is long gone. What is less clear though, is the origin of these four large slabs of stone? Where did they come from? Where were they sourced? Were they repurposed from the nearby abbey or were they originally part of a Pagan structure transplanted to the top of the hill?

The four stones are now a local landmark; they're loved and revered. The Right Honourable Lord George Lyttelton, the Baron, leaves a legacy in prose, poems, words, garden design and stone. Time dulls the memory but it often leaves words, actions, and intentions, always open to interpretation. We don't know conclusively why the four stones were placed on top of the Clent Hills; we just know that they are here and they remain standing today.

* * * * *

### The Sixth Realm - Bardonia

### Chapter 6: A Common Enemy.

Crescent Island, Bardonia.

"You can discover what your enemy fears most by observing the means he uses to frighten you."

The parrots were squawking loudly this morning, clearly agitated by something. It sounded like a squabble had erupted in the nearby woods and whoever squawked the loudest would win the argument. The Crocodiles would occasionally break the surface of their watery cover intent on monitoring the commotion. A large framed Ricar guard lingered upon the castle ramparts intent on inspecting the surrounding landscape for any signs of emerging danger. The morning sun had already risen and was shining through the trees. Sunlight danced across the slow flowing river surrounding Crescent Island. Small disturbances in the water's surface reflected the light like highly polished diamonds. The surrounding trees were calm; the morning offered only a small breeze to flutter the leaves. The parrots had suddenly grown quiet, settling their squabbles and returning to their morning feed.

With the absence of a strong wind, and the parrot's temporary truce, the only sound was the soothing flow of the river as it enveloped the Island. There is always something majestic about a slow ambling river; it represents harmony, balance, and peace. The old white Witch had been awake for hours, the tranquil noises of her new surroundings was strangely deafening to her. She found it difficult to sleep without the constant noise of people, horns, engines, and assortment of sounds she'd grown accustomed to in busy Mong Kok, Hong Kong.

The old Witch made her way up to the castle's ramparts and soaked in the early morning heat, under the watchful eyes of the royal Ricar guards. A large framed man sauntered down the rampart, surveying the landscape before him. He nodded politely at the old woman. "Good Morning," he said in a gruff voice. He stood at his post attentively, turning his face towards the bright rays of the morning sun. He remained motionless; his back was turned to the old Witch who sat on the weathered stone steps. After surveying her surroundings, she rose slowly and walked towards the guard. His sheer size dwarfed her. Her head managed to reach the same height as the guard's elbow. She assumed a position next to the guard and looked out from the castle's wall.

"Can I ask you something young man?" she inquired politely.

"Of course, my lady," the guard replied, trying to be polite and respectful to the Crocodile Queen's houseguest. He didn't know who this woman was, but he surmised that she was an important dignitary. He knew she didn't originate from this realm.

"Tell me please, I'm curious. Why are you Ricars so loyal to your Queen? I've noticed, the Crocodiles, the Ricars, and all the inhabitants of this realm seem to adore her. I don't mean to be dis-respectful or sound impertinent, I'm just trying to understand who I'm going to be staying with."

The guard thought for a moment, he took a deep breath and turned his head slightly towards the old Witch. "Our realm is a beautiful place, it's teaming with abundance from the fertile lands, our forests, rocky cliffs, desert sands, farms, and oceans. We have animals and different species that live in harmony and balance their existence across our villages, towns, and cities. But it wasn't always like this. We'd been fighting each other for over a thousand years. War was waged between the different species, inciting hate, jealousy, and greed. At the same time, another war was raging, a war against the dark forces intent on exploiting this hatred and taking our realm. Most of our kind has no knowledge of other realms; they know nothing of other species and entities. They're re unaware of beings such as you that can travel between realms. We'd like to keep it that way, until we think the inhabitants of our realm are ready. Our people, and people from every tribe, all know of the Crocodile Queen. Nobody gets to see her, only the royal Ricar guard, and a few select animals. We're all sworn to secrecy and we share an oath to hide her identity. If unwanted visitors came here then nobody would suspect a young child, even if this child had an appearance like no other within this realm. The stories, songs, and legends, that surround the Crocodile Queen go back decades. It would be impossible for this young child to be the Crocodile Queen, and that's why her disguise is so effective. Before I get to your answer, may I ask you something, how do you know her?"

"I don't know her. She's saved me by offering me a refuge on this island, and giving me a safe place to live. Tell me more about my host."

"The Crocodile Queen galvanizes our people and our realm. She's smart, and a leader who can introduce us to creatures from other realms. These beings often help us when we need them. She's respected, and perhaps, feared a little. This mystique that surrounds her, helps us keep order and peace across our land. Believe me, we've seen evil. In the past, our lands have been over-run with creatures from the dark world. We've experienced war with deadly evil forces, and each time, the Crocodile Queen has managed to protect our realm and defeat our enemies. We guard her for the same reason those crocodiles guard her – because we need her. We know she's not from our realm, but for some inexplicably fortunate reason she's decided to live here and protect us. For that we are eternally grateful and we would die happily trying to protect her."

"That's good to know," said a voice behind them. Rose, the Crocodile Queen, appeared. She ascended the stone steps onto the rampart.

"My Queen, my apologies, I..." the Ricar blurted out standing to attention.

"I was just asking him a few questions my dear, I meant no harm. Please don't be angry with him, if we're to share this island for a while, I simply wanted to get to know a little more about my host," the old Witch explained.

"I'm not angry," Rose said, walking towards the Ricar as she tapped him lightly upon his shoulder, "resume your patrol Ricar, please." The Ricar turned and respectfully walked away, briskly obeying her command.

"He's a good loyal servant, please don't let my actions get him into trouble," explained the old Witch.

"It won't." Rose stood next to the old Witch and looked out over the grounds containing the fast-flowing river, and the lush forest. "I have respected your privacy, and your need for anonymity. It must have been difficult for you to live in a bustling city like Hong Kong." The old Witch nodded her head in agreement. "But now here we are, living together on an idyllic island - Crescent Island. I've been giving this some considerable thought and I think our arrangement is going to work out well." She paused moving her gaze along the riverbank to observe the crocodiles basking in the morning sun. "To make this work we need to trust each other, really trust each other, don't you agree?"

"Yes," the old Witch managed to muster a response, she wasn't clear if this was the start of a friendship or a reprimand.

"Within the castle's walls and while you are on Crescent Island, you don't need to be anonymous anymore. This is your home now. You can talk with whomever you like, the guards, the birds, and even myself," she smiled at the old Witch. "But personally, I don't like talking to people I don't know. That's why we need to formally introduce ourselves. My real name is Rose, it would be my honor to get to know you more, and for you to consider me as your friend."

The old Witch felt tears welling up in her eyes, she'd been alone for so long, hiding her considerable powers for fear of being persecuted and killed. "My name is Aishen, and it's been a very long time since I've had anyone I can talk to about my life and my gifts. Even the Witches I've encountered, they've all turned out to be hostile and dangerous."

"You're safe here Aishen, you can live the rest of your days out here in peace. There is one question that keeps running through my mind though - can you travel between realms?"

"I have the ability," Aishen swallowed hard, as if suddenly short of breath. "But my life-force is so weak I need to use an artifact that has residual energy. I need an artifact that has travelled between realms previously. I can tap into that energy and transport myself. I didn't have an artifact like that when I lived in Hong Kong. Why do you ask, will I need to travel?"

"No, I was just curious. I'm happy to provide you with a tranquil retreat, but in return, I want to ask of you to grant me three favors." Aishen nodded her appreciation and acceptance. "One: Always refer to me as the Crocodile Queen, never Rose, that's only for you to know. I like to keep my anonymity intact, it's safer that way. Two: Whenever I'm away protect the castle and the island. Three: Teach me the old ways, please. Share with me your experience and wisdom, our Order needs to be stronger than ever if we're going to defeat the forces of evil."

The two Witches stood side by side looking out over the river watching the crocodiles slide in, and out, of the flowing water. They didn't look at one another, preferring to keep their gaze front and center. Aishen raised her left hand, she fumbled for a second before holding Rose's hand. She squeezed it tightly in a show of gratitude and solidarity. "Of course, my Queen."

This conversation would be the commencement of a powerful alliance. Many scholars point to this moment as the rebirth of the Order of the Crescent Moon. Aishen's wisdom and experience was immense. Rose was the most powerful white Witch in any realm, but she needed a mentor, a wise word at the right moment, a supportive friend, and a teacher of the forgotten magic of the old ways that needed to be preserved.

* * * * *

### The Fifth Realm - Earth

### Chapter 7: Preparations

Abilene, Kansas, USA, 1976.

"Success is where preparation and opportunity meet."

"Let's earn that glass of wine first, shall we?" Ally said, reaching back to retrieve a crumpled piece of paper from the back pocket of her jeans.

"Agreed," said Dan, "We've still got some work to do."

"Secure the door first Dan," suggested Ally. Dan walked towards the church's main doors and locked them from the inside.

"We don't want any uninvited visitors tonight," he said clicking the lock and sliding the heavy metal bolts into place. He turned to see Ally surveying the church's main hall.

Dan was determined to follow the instructions, so carefully articulated upon the sheet. Both Ally and Dan started their assignment by moving more of the heavy wooden benches to both sides of the church's main hall. After a while they'd managed to clear a large area in the middle. In addition, they'd managed to position two stacked benches in front of the main doors. Dan took a step backwards and inspected the benches, he was satisfied that they'd barricaded themselves securely inside the church. Nobody was coming in through the church's front door tonight.

"We need to chalk out a square pattern that is larger than five feet long on each side," explained Ally. She glanced at Dan who was lying down on one of the pews. "Come on Dan please take this seriously, we have to do this right and we don't have much time for you to just lie around." It seemed like Ally was scolding Dan. Normally Dan would sulk, reacting badly to her reprimand. Today was different.

Dan smiled, "Ally, look at me, please."

"I can't, I'm so angry with you right now, goofing off when we absolutely need to get this done, this is so important." Ally studied the instructions written precisely upon the paper.

"Ally," Dan persisted with his protest. "Ally, look at me." Ally turned her head and shot Dan a serious look. Her expression indicated a heightened level of annoyance. Dan was lying flat on his back staring at the church's ceiling. From his peripheral vision he knew Ally was now looking at him and he'd gained her full attention. "Here's the thing Ally, I'm five-foot nine inches tall and my feet don't touch the end of this bench. That means we have our measuring guide right here. We'll use a bench to mark out the corners of our square." Ally smiled, reluctantly she had to admit it was a smart idea. Dan had solved the first problem.

"Good, good idea," stammered Ally, feeling a little guilty at her previously harsh tone.

Dan retrieved a piece of chalk stored in Ally's gym bag; he tucked it into his jeans pocket. They positioned themselves at each end of the wooden bench and arranged a square of benches with a bench placed in the middle. They rotated the middle bench that cleared each side bench. This meant they had constructed a square, with each side wider than five feet long. "Perfect," said Ally slightly out of breath from the lifting.

Dan marked each corner with the chalk and drew a line across the church floor connecting each corner to complete the square shape. "Now we need to move these benches back to the sides of the church without stepping on the chalk marks."

"Understood," said Ally, feeling more confident in their ability to prepare the church in the way the instructions had outlined.

It took a while; combined with some awkward stepping movements, but eventually the benches were cleared revealing a chalked outline of a large square in the center of the church's main hall. Ally was relieved, she unfolded the instructions previously retrieved from her rear jeans pocket and read the next step. "We need to measure eighteen inches in from each corner and mark a spot."

Dan was way ahead of her, he'd retrieved the sports bag and was rummaging around inside. "Here, this is what I'm looking for," he held up a twelve-inch wooden ruler. Dan moved to one of the corners, "Here's what we're going to do Ally, we measure twelve inches down one side," he flicked a line of chalk onto the floor. "Then we add another six inches," he marked another line. "Now we repeat on the other side of the corner, like this. Then we draw a line across, and up, and here, look at that." Dan had drawn another square, within the corner, with a side length of eighteen inches each. "This is your spot right here."

"Then we place a small metal bowl on that spot," said Ally, impressed with Dan's ingenuity.

"Right, I'll mark the other corners, you get the metal bowls from the bag." Ally nodded her agreement. It didn't take them long before they were looking at a large square with four small metal bowls strategically placed at each corner within the square. They smiled and looked at each other proudly.

"I think we can enjoy our glass of wine now, but just one glass," cautioned Ally. "See if you can find some glasses, this bottle's got a screw cap so we don't need an opener." A few moments later Ally and Dan were sitting on a church bench, looking at their work, while sipping the wine in silence. Ally turned to Dan, "Do you think we're going to go to hell for doing this in a church?"

Dan smiled, "Nah, I think the big guy will cut us some slack, all things considered."

"You really do know how to show a girl a good time don't you," she said in a joking manner. Dan laughed. Ally took a sip of the wine. "Who knew I'd be sitting here, in an empty church, in 1976, sipping on a glass of wine, with my guy, looking at what can only be described as some vandalism that we've done with the Pastor's permission within this old church," she laughed, "it's nice."

* * * * *

### The Fifth Realm - Earth

### Chapter 8: The Four Stones

The Clent Hills, Birmingham, England, 2015.

"I have often depended on the blindness of strangers."

All day thick dark clouds had blanketed the Black Country, the top of the Clent Hills were now shrouded in an eerie darkness. A strong gale from the north blasted the hills making the surrounding area bitterly cold. Across the countryside bright welcoming yellow lights could be seen emanating from far away. The light resembled a beacon in the darkness originating from Hagley Hall. The four stones stood resolute, like vigilant sentries presiding over the counties of Warwickshire, Worcestershire, Stafford and Shropshire, as they had done for well over three hundred years.

There was no moonlight that night, with the stars and the fall moon hidden by the dense cloud cover. Suddenly, a flash of light burst across the peaks of the Clent Hills. For the briefest of moments, the flash illuminated the stones and the surrounding area against the dark backdrop. To the casual observer it looked like an approaching storm, perhaps a lightning bolt or the effects of sheet lightning. As the bright flash of light streaked across the sky, the silhouette of the four stones could be seen clearly, standing proudly on top of the hill. There was an oddity to the flash of light. There was no large thundering boom, or a loud cracking noise that a bolt of lightening would usually make. Instead, there was only a flash, followed by the sound of the howling winds.

The rain had started to fall. It was a light drizzle at first but it was increasing in its intensity. The wind was whipping the rain around. It looked like a storm, the kind they get frequently across the hills of the Black Country, was increasing in its intensity. The sudden flash of light, in the context of an approaching storm, made sense to the occupants of the villages, hamlets, and remote farms, dotted around the region. Nobody called the police or reported anything unusual.

Sanderson Miller's four stones stood fast against the raging wind, they faced the lashing rain with confidence, as they had done before. The stones stood proudly rising six feet above the ground, but anchored deep into the earth. The hilltop was again returned to a shroud of darkness on a bitterly cold night; nobody would willingly venture out tonight. No one had any logical reason to be on the peak of the hill.

It was 11.45pm, October 17th, 1986. The surrounding area's residents had turned-in for the night. The flash of light that had temporarily illuminated the dark sky had transported Kaan to the top of the Clent Hills. Kaan had arrived at the four stones with a determined purpose and an assignment he was sworn to complete. Kaan was dressed in black; he liked to wear his black monk's robes when he thought he might need to engage in a fight. The robes were loose enough to conceal weapons, and he liked that. Kaan tugged at his oversized hood, trying to protect his scarred face from the lashing rain. He pushed his tired body upwards towards the crest of the hill. He wore a black leather harness lashed across his chest that strapped a large shovel and a heavy sword to his back. He strode confidently against the wind pushing his way towards the top of the hill. He could see the rain glistening on the black rocks ahead that rose high above him. Around his waist he wore a thick black leather belt, it secured a sturdy metal chisel and contained an oddly shaped leather storage pouch. The pouch had four distinct sections arranged in a square pattern and covered by a thick black leather flap. Kaan pushed onwards, trying to reach the four stones. His feet would slip beneath him on the muddy surface. The rain and wind seemed to battle his every step trying to impede his progress. He was determined to push onwards for Kaan knew he couldn't fail tonight.

When Kaan finally reached the peak of the hill he extended his hand and leaned upon one of the stones. It felt rough, uneven, and wet. Rivulets of water streamed down the edge of the stone surface as the wind blasted Kaan's bearded face. It was eerily silent; all he could hear was the flapping of the edges of his large hood. Kaan reached down to fumble with his belt. Using the faint light emanating from the dwellings down below in the valley he stared at his compass trying to locate which stone was located to the north. Once he was confident that the needle of his compass had revealed true north, he glanced at the nearest stone. This was the one he would need to start with. Kaan spun around slowly. Peering through the darkness he scanned the surrounding area looking for any signs of movement. He couldn't see another living thing anywhere near. This would be his opportunity.

Kaan reached behind his back and unsnapped the leather strap. He reached lower and awkwardly unsnapped another strap. The shovel secured to his back released from its harness and fell into his large waiting hand. With his other hand he reached over his shoulder. In a familiar motion he'd used many times before, he slid his large sword from its protective sheath. Kaan moved towards the northern stone. He stabbed the sword into the wet soft dirt marking the stone located due north. He bent over and examined the stone. Kaan dug away at the dirt using the shovel. He removed some of the earth located at the stone's base creating a hole about nine inches below the surface. Once he felt he was deep enough he knelt, retrieving the metal chisel and a heavy hammer strapped to his thick black belt. In the darkness, accompanied only by the strong wind, he aimed the chisel below ground level at the base of the stone. In one strong swift movement he struck the chisel with the hammer breaking a fragment of rock away from the stone's base.

The broken piece of stone that chipped away wasn't very big, about the size of a walnut, but it was big enough. Kaan reached down for the fragment of stone. Kaan had successfully collected the first fragment from the northern stone. He secured it within the first open pocket of his pouch. He placed the chisel and hammer to one side and retrieved the shovel. Kaan replaced the excavated dirt and stomped it back into place. He took great pains to cover up and hide the chipped stone wound he'd left on the standing stone. This fresh wound would be clear evidence that he'd extracted a fragment of rock.

Kaan would repeat this process for the east, south and finally the west columns of stone. He took each fragment of stone and carefully placed them in sequence within his leather pouch. After each extraction he was extremely careful to repair the dirt carefully disguising his activities well below the ground's surface. The rain and the muddy mess would ultimately cover his tracks allowing him to collect his fragments of stone, and re-load his tools, shovel, and sword.

Kaan was cold, hungry, shivering, and damp. His robes were soaked and he looked forward to a warm fire and a hot bath. He smiled to himself content in his evening's work. There was one final flash of light that fateful evening as Kaan disappeared from the Clent Hills. The rain continued for two days, soaking the soil and washing away any trace of Kaan's activities. Kaan had been clever; his process of extracting the rock fragments below the earth's surface meant the damage would never be noticed. Today, the four stones are a popular hiking destination with visitors to the Clent Hills. And to this day visitors are blissfully unaware of the important role the stones played in the eternal fight between good and evil.

* * * * *

Back at the church, Dan and Ally were indulging in their small celebration. They sipped upon wine feeling pleased with themselves and how they'd dealt with Pastor Albert. Their assigned task was to secure the venue and construct a chalked square. All had been completed to their immense relief and satisfaction. They were partially through their first glass of wine when a bright light illuminated the main hall of the small church in Abilene. Ally shielded her eyes; Dan was caught completely off guard as he turned his eyes away from the blinding light.

From the Smokey Hill River, the church glowed with the incandescence of a thousand candles. The stained-glass windows shone spectacularly displaying their many colors.

Ally and Dan were momentarily stunned; they remained motionless until they recognized the black-robed figure that appeared out of thin air. "Kaan?" inquired Dan sheepishly. He hurriedly placed his wine glass upon the wooden bench fearing they would be reprimanded. Dan approached the figure that was still concealed by his long black soaking wet robes. The robes dripped leaving small puddles of water on the church floor. Kaan lifted his hood revealing his face allowing the hood to fall backwards onto his shoulders.

"Dan, Ally, it's good to see you both. Is everything well?" inquired Kaan.

"Yes, it's all good, we've completed everything as designed," explained Dan.

"Good, then I can relieve you both." Kaan unhooked his heavy leather harness followed by the belt. His sword, shovel, hammer, and chisel were released as they fell to the floor with a thud. He grasped the pouch containing the four fragments of stone and slipped out of his wet black robes leaving them in a heap on the floor. Under his black robes he wore lighter traditional brown monk's robes and he seemed relieved to have shed the enormous weight.

Kaan gave Dan an almighty hug, happy to see him, "Good to see you too, young man." He turned his gaze towards Ally, "And how is one of the fairest lady's in all of the realms?" he inquired. Kaan was in an upbeat mood.

"We're both good Kaan, it's nice to see you too. We've been working hard, so I'm finishing my wine before we go," Ally said, with a twinkle in her eye.

Kaan embraced Ally with a bear like hug, "It's good to see you too Ally, is there any wine left for me?"

The three sat for a while drinking wine and inspecting the chalk squares drawn upon the church floor. "You should go now, I'll take it from here," Kaan was insistent. Ally placed her empty wine glass upon the wooden bench, and as if scripted, the magical timing of the Dream Cane sprang into life.

A solitary crimson butterfly fluttered effortlessly through the church's main hall. Its crimson wings caught everyone's attention and they all knew what it meant. Dan walked briskly over to Ally extending his hand. The moment Ally accepted Dan's hand; they disappeared in a swirl of air and light, along with the butterfly.

Kaan poured more wine into his empty glass and took a generous mouthful. He swallowed the red wine, "Not bad, not bad indeed," he said to himself. Kaan had to get serious now, the clock was advancing but he knew he had just enough time to complete his tasks. Kaan placed the empty glass upon the wooden bench. He retrieved his compass and located north. Kaan inspected the work that Ally and Dan had completed earlier. He walked towards the chalked outline on the church's floor and observed the four-metallic bowls. Kaan walked carefully to the chalked corner located at due north. He opened his pouch and placed one of the four stones at the corner, laying it upon the ground. Kaan repeated the process for the east, south and western corners. He was overly cautious to match the stones with their respective compass readings. Kaan stood back and admired his work. At each corner where the chalk lines met, now lay a fragment of stone, accompanied by an empty metal bowl.

Kaan glanced at the nearly empty bottle of wine and smiled. He searched the different areas of the church before finding a utility closet. Inside, with other supplies, was a large extendable ladder. He extracted the heavy metal ladder from the closet and carried it towards the two tall stained-glass windows facing the Smokey Hill River and ultimately the town of Abilene. Kaan set about his next task with the discipline of a monk trained in martial arts. He pulled at his soaked black robes previously discarded in a wet heap upon the floor. The black robes were unusually heavy, as multiple layers of folded black material had been sewn into their lining. Kaan tugged relentlessly at the material ripping away two long sheets of black linen. He opened Ally's gym bag and, as he expected, retrieved a package of nails. Armed with nails, a ladder, and the hammer that he'd used on the Clent Hills to extract the fragments of stone, he set about his next assigned task.

The lengths of black linen were still wet adding to their weight. Kaan managed to climb the ladder ascending to a height where he could tack-up the linen sheets to act as a light-blocking screen covering the stained-glass windows. It was evening in Abilene and dark outside, there was no daylight penetrating the windows. The linen was designed to block the activities happening within the church from any curious inhabitants of Abilene and the surrounding area. Kaan did not want the bright and sudden flashes of light occurring within the church to stimulate the curiosity of any of its neighbors. He was fortunate the black linen screens just managed to cover the bottom of the stained-glass windows to within a few inches; the length was perfect.

Kaan completed the second window, once he had descended the ladder he stepped back to admire his work. "That should work," he mumbled to himself satisfied. Kaan cleared the ladder away and helped himself to the remainder of the wine. It wasn't as good as the mead locally brewed in the monastery, but it would have to do. Kaan's thoughts turned to his past friends and teachers that lost their lives that fateful night at the monastery. He remembered the young kids training so hard to develop their skills and impress their friends and masters. He thought about the masters, each having specialized in a certain skill or discipline. They were the best of the best, slaughtered due to a series of casual sloppy mistakes, and two unforgiving beasts. Kaan had been encased within a stone tomb, unable to help his fallen friends. He could hear the screams of the defenseless monks as he slipped away into a state of suspended animation frozen in stone.

He thought of Master Zing, the oldest and wisest of the masters. Kaan recalled having numerous conversations with Master Zing; they'd discussed the old man's failing health. Master Zing had indicated he was determined to move to a warmer, more hospitable climate. Kaan had convinced him to remain at the monastery and to continue to do what he loved - teaching his students. Kaan pointed out the obvious, what would Master Zing do in his retirement? All he had ever known was the disciplines and structure of the monastery. How would he realistically cope outside of the strict routine and safety provided by the monastery? Kaan suddenly felt the sharp prick of guilt stabbing away at his gut. Master Zing would be alive today if it weren't for Kaan's well-meaning intervention and advice. Kaan raised his glass of wine, "This one's for you Master Zing, and for all of you that perished that awful night."

Kaan tilted his wine glass and swallowed the last of the wine, shaking his head with sadness and remorse.

* * * * *

A flash of crimson light bounced off the walls and illuminated Dan's bedroom. It was still early in Westtown as the local cleaning crews rumbled through the empty streets outside. The Dream Cane had safely transported Dan and Ally back to their world. It was uncanny; the Dream Cane always seemed to know the right moment to end an adventure. "Are you ok," inquired Dan?

"You're right you know. After a few times of doing this - you do kind of get used to it," said Ally smiling. Ally was still feeling a little dizzy, but she didn't have the violent nauseous reaction she'd experienced travelling between realms anymore. "Ok, I have to go," said Ally, wishing she could stay for just a couple more minutes. Physically she felt good but her mind still felt a little scrambled and uncoordinated.

Dan stared into her eyes to see if she was really ok, he placed the Dream Cane upon his bed. "Are you sure you're ok to leave? You can stay and rest a little while if you want to."

"No, I'm good," insisted Ally.

"Be careful though, you know what you have to do, right?" asked Dan.

"Yes, get Merlin's necklace from my room and go to the coffee shop," Ally rose carefully to her feet.

"Keep the necklace out of sight, cover it up with your sweatshirt or a scarf or something. And Ally, promise me - go straight to the coffee shop," Dan insisted.

"Who are you, my mother," she snapped playfully.

Dan saw the funny side of her remark. He laughed and pulled a face that he would normally use when he was blowing off a comment, "Ok, off you go then."

Through her bravado of feeling fine Ally suddenly realized something, Dan was genuinely concerned for her safety. "You keep safe as well, and stick to the plan." Dan nodded.

* * * * *

### The Fifth Realm - Earth

### Chapter 9: Aishen's Challenge

Various Locations, Earth.

"A great wind is blowing, and that gives you either imagination or a headache."

Aishen was both nervous and excited. She stood before a large ornate framed mirror precariously hanging upon the wall of the great hall within the Crocodile Queen's castle on Crescent Island. Aishen decided to use the mirror as a source of inspiration. It was a quiet place to talk to herself. She studied her reflection carefully. What stood before her was the image of an old shriveled weak Witch. It didn't reconcile with her inner feelings. For the first time in a long time she felt alive, excited, and fully charged with energy. She finally had a purpose to her life; Aishen was about to do something vitally important. Aishen was old in Earth years, but she knew her purpose in life had now been restored. Numerous people were counting on her to fulfill her mission. Irrelevant of how sick or weak she had felt she was determined not to let anyone down.

Aishen studied the small-framed woman dressed in simple clothes that reflected in the mirror. She looked at the simple gold chain suspended from her neck and the gold coin that hung effortlessly from the chain. A movement in the mirror's reflection behind her caught her eye. It was the young monk that had escaped from the Monastery of Light. The two had grown close over the past few months forming an unlikely bond. "Are you ready Aishen?" inquired the young man.

Aishen nodded, studying her reflection in the mirror. She took a deep breath changing her expression to a determined stare. Small drops of doubt dripped into her mind but they were quickly brushed to one side. "You can do this," stated the young monk as confidently as he could for he has sensed her self-doubt.

She didn't speak. She simply nodded, watching her unconvincing performance closely within the mirror's frame. The young monk approached, he stood behind her and talked to her reflection. "It's time for you to go now, you can do this. I have faith in your abilities – so should you."

Aishen moved her hands slowly; she reached up to touch her necklace. With both hands she took hold of the gold coin clasping it within her fingers. Moving the coin away from the base of her neck she held it carefully. She glanced at the young monk through the mirror holding his gaze for an instant before nodding then closing her eyes in intense concentration.

The young monk stepped backwards and watched Aishen's concentration straining across her face. As fast as an eye could blink she simply disappeared in a flash of intense golden light. The great hall seemed to shake, and it was over suddenly - she'd disappeared. The monk let out an audible gasp, a manifestation of his utter relief. His sole job was to ensure that a hesitant Aishen, despite having last minute jitters, would leave on time and transport to her destination. That was all he could do. His only role in this important mission was now complete. If the mission failed, he felt relieved that he'd delivered upon his promise. The young monk felt drained of any energy, he slumped into a comfortable chair and let out another loud sigh.

* * * * *

Imagine for a minute if you were a tourist in Nepal searching for a Taleju Temple in the Kathmandu Valley, then you would be faced with a decision. Which one of the three temples would you visit first? Taleju Temples in Kathmandu can be found in Kathmandu Durbar Square, Bhaktapur, and Patan Durbar Square. These temples are named after the Goddess Taleju Bhawani; she's revered in Nepal and seen as a sacred deity with four heads and ten arms. When the Malla Kings ruled over Nepal, from the 12th to the 18th century, Taleju Bhawani was their primary Goddess. The Taleju Bhawani Temple of Kathmandu is the oldest of the three temples and is located within Mulchok Court near the Golden Gate.

This particular temple is adorned with fascinating architectural details such as sculpted archways that seem to soar endlessly, and window frames inspired by opulent memories of times past. Originally the temple was only accessible to the reigning King, it was a sacred place. Today, it is open to a wider clientele. Restrictions still exist; only practicing Hindu's can enter the temple today.

The temple is built using a light red colored brick, which supports a green pagoda style roof with three smaller levels. The red bricks combined with ornately arranged pillars, arches, and doorways support the bottom tier. The second and third tiers are also made from red brick, but they have carved moldings and dark colored wooden struts that shoot out from the structure designed to support the overhanging roof. The walls are dotted with black shuttered windows. The structure is ultimately crowned by a glorious arrangement of gold decorations that cluster around a pointed spire. Aishen had timed her visit to the Taleju Temple in 1886, on a dark September evening. Storm clouds had already formed above; the inhabitants of Kathmandu were taking shelter within their dwellings expecting a wet and stormy evening ahead. The storm had been threatening all day with rumblings of thunder echoing through the valley. The occasional streak of lightening had pierced the night's dark sky.

A blinding flash of light blended easily into the frenzied storm without a passing glance. Aishen had arrived in Kathmandu, concealed by a tall stonewall that joined to a gateway leading to the temple surrounded by a protective wall. Aishen was disappointed that she had no time to be a tourist and appreciate the beauty and magnificence of this location. The inclement weather curbed her urge to look around wasting what precious time she had.

Aishen knelt upon the wet ground grateful to be concealed and partially sheltered from the rain by the tall stonewall. She quickly reached for her belt containing four glass vials of water. She carefully selected the vial sealed with a cork that was inscribed in black ink with the letter "N."

She removed the vial from its leather restraining loop, using her thumbs she gently eased the cork out from the top of the vial exposing the water within. Aishen took one step forward and casually tossed the water to one side splashing its droplets upon the dark dirt. Aishen shook the vial to remove the last remaining drops of water before raising her eyes to confirm that she was still alone and unnoticed. She raised the glass vial level to her eyes examining its contents to ensure it was empty. Aishen quickly replaced the cork, the letter "N" clearly visible, pushing it firmly into the neck of the vial.

Satisfied with her progress, Aishen knew the night was still young. She was fully aware of the many tasks that lay ahead of her. Aishen was not in the best of health but she blocked out her aches and pains determined she would not fail in her mission. She carefully pushed the empty sealed vial back into the vacant leather loop located on her belt. At first it refused to slide in easily, her anxiety spiked. She could feel a swell of panic rise quickly within her body. The rain started to gain in its intensity turning into heavier droplets, a foreshadowing of the approaching storm. Aishen struggled with the glass vial pushing it firmly with her thumb trying not to damage the vial. Finally, the vial seemed to break through the tightness of the leather loop and slid into place with ease. She let out an audible gasp signaling her immense relief. Aishen's long hair was starting to get wet. Seeking shelter she huddled against the stonewall. She raised her hands and grasping for the gold coin pendent suspended from her neck. In a flash she was gone.

* * * * *

In early February 2017, a raging storm blew through the northeastern coast of China. Mount Tai accommodates a mountain monastery located north of the city of Tai'an and south of the Chinese provincial capital Jinan, in the Shandong province. Today Mount Tai is a popular place for tourists and local visitors. Mount Tai is the most eastern mountain of the five great mountains of China. Many agree that Mount Tai as the most significant of the five mountains. Today, the mountain is associated with important ceremonies and cultural practices that relate to the sunrise, and the themes central to renewal and birth. The history of the mountain has confirmed it to be a unique place of worship for well over 3,000 years.

In the Neolithic period two competing factions emerged near the mountain, the Dawenkou culture to the south, and the Longshan culture to the north. During this time, Mount Dai as it was known then, lay within one of nine provinces within ancient China.

Religious worship has been practiced on Mount Tai since the early times of Shang, but this evolved into an official imperial right. Mount Tai became the place where the Emperor would stop to pay homage to the earth at the foot of the mountain, and the heavens at its summit. Sacrifices and offerings of food and jade were always offered as part of a ritualistic routine. According to Zhou ritual, it is decreed that the spirit of Mount Tai would only accept ritual offerings from feuding lords. During the height of the great feuds, an impressive wall, that still stands today, was built around the mountain. The fable states that if Mount Tai remains safe then China itself would remain safe.

Perhaps the most significant event in the mountain's storied history was the Fengshan sacrifices. In 219BCE, the Qin Emperor, Huang Di, informed the mountain and its gods of his success at unifying all of China. Climbing the mountain on route to the Jade Emperor Peak, visitors will see inscriptions carved and painted into the rocks; some symbolize proclamations of unity and are considered to be the highest of all sacrifices. There are 12 historically recorded imperial ceremonies in homage to both Heaven and Earth. The mountain houses approximately 1,800 stone tablet inscriptions and 22 temples. Together, the mountain constitutes the most important cultural monument in all of China. The mountain with its storied history and list of famous visitors has played an important role in the development and evolution of Buddhism and Taoism.

Tai mountain is home to the famous Jade Emperor Peak. Equally important are the Heaven Candle Peak, the Rear Rock Basin, and Fan Cliff. The mountain and its surrounding area are covered with lush vegetation with an assortment of old and special trees. Historically significant trees include six cypress trees from the Han Dynasty planted 2,100 years ago. Sophora Japonica of the Tang Dynasty, which were planted 1,300 years ago, and two types of Pine, planted 500 years ago.

The key monument at the foot of Mount Tai is a Temple to the God Taishan, which contains a Taoist masterpiece painting. The painting depicts the God of Taishan making a journey. Inside the temple, The Palace of Heavenly Blessings can be found; it is one of the three oldest palaces located within China.

To climb the mountain, you must ascend the Shibapan, a challenge of 18 levels of stone steps. A total of 1,827 steps divided into three categories, namely, the slow eighteens, the hard eighteens and the, 'no slow-no hard' eighteens. To climb the mountain in full, from the Red Gate at the foot of the mountain, to the South Heaven Gate at the top of the mountain, visitors must overcome 6,600 stone steps. They snake their way up the mountainside stopping occasionally at lookouts that offer magnificent views.

Located near the top of the mountain is the Shrine of the Blue Dawn, another building complex made from brick, stone, and wood. This complex contains a shrine, which is dedicated to the Goddess Bixia, the Goddess of the Blue Dawn.

The throng of tourists that had visited the temple earlier in the day had long since vanished. A few dedicated monks remained in the complex tending to the temples and staying indoors as the approaching dark storm clouds gathered.

A gloriously bright flash of light illuminated the exterior of the Temple of the Blue Dawn. Aishen had arrived upon the sacred mountain at the top of the revered journey. It was a familiar scene as a storm approached the mountain; Aishen huddled against a wall taking shelter from the blustering wind. She reached for a glass vial of water secured within her belt and extracted the vial with the letter "E" inscribed upon the top of the cork stopper. Aishen was acutely aware of the significance of the mountain, what she needed to do next made her feel awkward. Aishen shouted against the wind, "Spirit of the mountain please forgive me for my need is great. Goddess Bixia, I ask for your forgiveness and support, help me with my quest." Aishen didn't worship or recognize any of these deities, but she felt an overwhelming level of respect for the people who had gone before. Aishen squeezed the cork stopper from the neck of the vial containing the water. "I offer you water, as a blessing and as a mark of respect," she whispered.

Aishen tilted the vial and poured the water onto the sacred ground. The water was taken from the river, which flowed effortlessly around Crescent Island. It spilled onto the ground. Aishen shook the remaining residue of water droplets from the vial and re-corked the neck of the glass vial making sure to secure the cork tightly. She replaced the vial carefully into the vacant leather loop secured to her belt.

"Goddess of the Mountain, this is where I humbly ask you for your forgiveness," whispered Aishen sheepishly respecting the old world powers, "I wouldn't do this unless I absolutely had to." Aishen bent down and scooped up a handful of the mountain's sacred dirt. She pushed the wet soil into a leather pouch secured to her belt. The skies were darkening and the wind was howling across the mountaintop. Aishen took a quick look around to admire her surroundings. She shook her head because she knew she had to leave. This was a place that she would have loved to explore and visit as a tourist. She loved the history and the cultural significance of this sacred mountain. The temple was located at the gateway to heaven; in many ways it reminded Aishen of the Monastery of Light. She'd heard stories and tales of the monastery, a famous teaching facility perched high in the clouds, but she'd never been granted the prestigious honor of an official visit before its attack.

For a fleeting moment she pretended to be in the Monastery of Light, high in the Mountains of Haitden. Aishen reluctantly reached for the golden coin suspended from her neck, a brilliant flash of white light followed illuminating the mountainside and Aishen was gone.

* * * * *

Another blinding flash of light this time announced Aishen's arrival, she appeared to be surrounded by thick dense walls of cavernous solid stone topped with a low roof hollowed out from jagged rock. Aishen inspected the dimly lit passageway embedded within a network of catacombs. Anthony was recorded in history as the founder of the Monastery of the Kiev Caves, located within the Ukraine. In 1057, the venerable Anthony, looking for a life of solitude moved into a cave high upon a hill that today is described as the Near Caves or the Caves of Anthony. The Monastery complex has a rich history involving monks, patrons, buildings, caves, bell towers, and catacombs that contain a labyrinth of tunnels and cells. As the population of monks grew, wooden structures were constructed to extend the caves and the living space. Governance, rules, and structure, were introduced based upon a statute obtained from Constantinople.

In the mid 1070's, the monastic center moved to the present day Upper Lavra with the construction of the Dormition Cathedral. Anthony became the first burial in the Near Caves in 1073. After a series of raids, changing patronage, and a major fire in 1718, a period of intense restoration occurred. In the early twentieth century, before the Bolsheviks' rise to power Dormition Kiev-Pechersk Lavra was home to over a thousand monks. It became a cultural center and pilgrimage location for religious study and life in the Orthodox world.

Soviet authorities assumed control of the caves in 1921. The new authorities confiscated the relics and historical objects belonging to the monastery. Many of the buildings were converted and used for commercial purposes. In 1926 the monastery was closed and turned into a museum. In 1934 the museum's collections were transferred to museums in Kiev. The Soviets had removed the bells from the great bell tower. During World War II the Soviet army placed mines within the Holy Dormition Cathedral where the explosives were eventually detonated after the Nazi forces advanced. After the war, the Lavra grounds were restored and renamed Kievan Cave Historical-Cultural Preserve. One hundred monks lived at the monastery until 1961.

In the 1980's the Soviet government transferred the Lower Lavra and Far Caves to the possession of the Ukrainian Exarchate of the Church of Russia. In the mid '80's spiritual life was restored and the Holy Dormition Cathedral was rebuilt and returned to the church. Today, the Lavra is also the site of the Kiev Theological Academy and Seminary, which resumed its activities in 1989.

Aishen had transported into an underground labyrinth of caves, lined with the mummified bodies of countless monks from its illustrious history. Alcoves were laboriously notched into the solid rock walls that now contained wooden caskets. Black wires ran along the cavernous walls and ceilings connecting old electric lights that provided muted light in the dimly lit underground caves. Aishen reached for a vial strapped to her belt, she could barely see the letter "E" written in black ink on top of the cork stopper. Aishen extracted the vial and removed the cork, easing it out gently. She poured the water onto the rock floor and shook the vial to remove any droplets that remained. Aishen replaced the cork, firmly pushing it back into the glass vial's neck. She replaced the empty vial back into her belt loop completing her task in the catacombs.

Aishen didn't like the caves, she felt uncomfortable, like an unwelcome presence intruding upon the dead. An ominous feeling of death and suffering surrounded her seeping into her unconscious mind. The underground catacombs were the final resting place for so many monks; it literally gave her the creeps. She rushed through her duties trying to conclude and leave as quickly as she could. Aishen remained focused; she didn't want to make a mistake. Aishen reached for her golden coin pendent, took one final glance at the creepy underground passageway and in a flash of light she was gone.

* * * * *

In the Patagonia region of Argentina, in the Chubut Province, Puerto Madryn can be found on the east coast. The Valdes Peninsula is a popular tourist destination teaming with wild creatures. Some of the more adventurous visitors are attracted to the surrounding bays where they can watch Right Whales. Boat tours are also a popular option with visitors experiencing the penguins, whales and elephant seals. Perched high upon the top of a shale beach surrounded by a sandy outcrop is the Ecocentro Madryn, a white walled building with an unmistakable pale blue roof. This three-story building educates the visitors to the region on the wildlife found in the area. It houses an enormous whale skeleton and contains a lookout tower offering spectacular views of the rugged coastline.

It was late at night and the Ecocentro Madryn had been closed for the evening, the day's visitors had long since vacated. The glassed-in lookout tower suddenly burst into life with a flash of intense light turning the tower into a temporary lighthouse. The light flooded the building racing down the stairs illuminating the library, art exhibits, and a large tank of sleeping sea creatures.

Aishen had arrived on the interior upper deck of the lookout tower; she quickly regained her senses. After her previous exertions, Aishen was starting to feel tired and weak. The effort required to transport so many times over a short intense period was starting to take its toll on Aishen's body. She felt nauseas and her mouth felt extremely dry. Transporting is hard on the body and the mind; Aishen was pushing her limits by committing to do so many tasks. She quickly surveyed her surroundings to ensure her safety. She could see the dimly lit rugged coastline stretching out far ahead of her. A bright silver moon struggled to break through the thick dark cloud cover.

Aishen finally admitted that her body couldn't stand much more of this. Soon she would need to rest, she longed for a deep relaxing sleep. She feared she might pass out and ruin everything. She reached for the vial marked with an "S," the only remaining vial in her belt that contained water. Aishen eased the cork stopper out from the glass neck of the vial and carefully poured the water harmlessly onto the tiled floor. She shook the vial to ensure it was empty and waved it around defiantly in the air. Once empty, she replaced the stopper back into the vial giving it an extra firm push with her thumb to seal the vial. She slipped it back into the loop in her belt and without waiting; without taking the time to look at the crashing waves and the glorious coastline, she reached for her necklace. This time, her urgency was apparent, she was so close to completing her tasks.

The room was once again flooded with a brilliant white light and Aishen was suddenly gone. In southern Argentina, the coastline was now calm, the evening air was crisp and all that could be heard was the sound of gentle rhythmic waves lapping at the deserted shoreline.

* * * * *

### The Third Realm - Haitden

### Chapter 10: Holy Water

The Rila Monastery, Bulgaria, 2012.

"I sometimes pray that prayers work."

To the south and west of the Rila Mountains lies an exquisite monastery. South of the capital city Sophia, in Bulgaria, the monastery can be found snuggled within the Rilska River valley, some 3,763 feet above sea level. The monastery's roots date back to the tenth century and are unquestionably regarded as one of the most important cultural and architectural sites in Bulgaria and all of southern Europe.

The monastery has a long and vibrant history dating back to its cave dwelling founder, a hermit named Ivan of Rila, who died in 946 AD during the rule of Tsar Peter I.

The monastery has survived numerous attacks and invasions changing its patrons and its shape through many sponsors, donors and various rebuilding projects. After one particularly devastating attack, Hrelyu, a local warlord in the first half of the 14th century, rebuilt it in its present form. The oldest buildings of the complex dates back to this period. The Tower of Hrelja, the adjacent small church, the bishop's throne and the beautifully engraved gates of the monastery remain today from this epic period of rebuilding. The arrival of the Ottomans and their numerous raids saw the monastery suffer through periods of destruction, and rebuilding, throughout the next century. In the 15th century, three bothers from Dpnica were instrumental in the monastery's restoration and transformation. Restoration efforts were funded by donations from the Russian Orthodox Church, the Sultana Mara Brankovic, and the Rossikon monastery of Mount Athos. With the Sultana's influence, Ivan of Rila's relics were moved from Tarnovo to the Rila site in 1469.

Today, the monastery sprawls over 8,800 square meters and when viewed from above you can see a center monastery building surrounded by a high triangular shaped protective wall. No words can adequately describe the beauty of the monastery with its black and white striped arches, and its murals and frescos that adorn the walls and ceilings. The roof has undulating curves that look like the rise and fall of the waves on the surface of an ocean. Floating above these waves, crowning the roof, are numerous grey domes topped with beautifully decorative crosses. The monastery is set against the green lush mountains rising behind and protecting it from the elements. From the inside courtyard the protective walls look spectacularly decorative. A castle's protective walls are usually made of plain functional dense stone. The protective walls of the monastery are decorated with three stacked layers of white arches and hundreds of supporting columns making for an impressive sight.

A belfry was added to the Tower of Hrelyu in 1844, and residential buildings have been added to accommodate the monks, a library, and a museum designed to showcase religious artifacts. It was a typically dark night that October evening, the monastery was closed to the public and its inhabitants were sleeping. Dark clouds rolled over the mountains and shrouded the valley as a violent storm moved in. Under the arched veranda, surrounded by beautiful frescoes where each painted square told a story, was a stone fountain. The fountain consisted of a wide dark stone base with a column rising from its scoop shaped center. A white stone second tier was adorned with decorative scalloped edges. Above that was a dark stone bowl with golden waterspouts. Perched above lay another combination of dark and light stone layers. Crowning this impressive structure was a figurine of a small golden bird perched proudly on the very top.

The mountains were rumbling with thunder as the storm echoed through the valley. A dense mist hovered around the tips of the mountains. A sudden drop in temperature saw the mist starting to descend into the valley. A flash of light illuminated the courtyard floor made from a variety of stones of different shapes and sizes. The sudden flash announced the arrival of the Crocodile Queen to the Rila Monastery. Rose had visited the monastery in the past; she'd received teachings from a talented monk. That was many years ago and the monk had long since passed. Her goal today was critically important, yet ultimately simple. She needed to find and retrieve a sample of holy water. The monastery would provide this to her with minimal fuss. Choosing this location was a simple choice for her to make. Rose had decided the Rila Monastery would be an easier location to visit unnoticed than Lourdes. Arriving at the monastery she quickly surveyed her surroundings.

Nobody had decided to brave the elements tonight; the courtyard was empty. The high walls provided ample opportunity for Rose to be observed, so she needed to move quickly. Obscuring her identity, Rose grabbed at her hood and tucked her face well back within its cover. The rain had started but the arches sheltered her as she made her way to the stone fountain. To her relief it was shooting little streams of water from its decorative spouts. The larger bowl at the base of the fountain was half full of water, blessed water, holy water. Rose knew she could not afford to waste any time. She allowed herself one quick look, to appreciate the monastery's beauty. She reached within her robes and retrieved a leather canteen flask, designed to hold water on long journeys. She approached the blessed fountain and dipped the open neck of the flask into the pool of water contained within the base of the fountain. Rose held the flask steady while watching the air bubbles escape from its neck and rise to the surface of the water. Satisfied she'd filled the flask with blessed holy water, she replaced the flask's stopper and tied the flask to her wide leather belt synching her robes at her waist.

Before anyone could raise an alarm, or question her motives, she was gone. A flash of intense light went unnoticed with the wild weather and approaching storm. Nobody noticed the arrival and departure of the Crocodile Queen that stormy night in the Rila Monastery. Rose was surgical in the execution of her duties, she didn't deviate from her plan as she tore through the fabric of time transporting to another place.

* * * * *

### The Fifth Realm - Earth

### Chapter 11: A Knight's Escort

Nottingham, England, 1776.

"The safety of people shall be the highest law."

In medieval England, located to the south of the city of Nottingham, a popular dirt road travels through dense forests winding its way through grassy glens towards London. This route is the fastest way to reach England's capital city, but it's fraught with danger as opportunistic thieves and highwaymen are only too willing to take advantage of weary travellers. Jean d'Alluye found himself in England responding to the request of a dear friend, an influential businessman from Lyon, France. Count Descheilles was raised as an inquisitive boy that translated his early curiosity into inventions, novels, and research on a variety of topics. His fascination with the unknown led him to focus his energies on the spiritual world and engage in conversations with the Catholic Church. The Count would talk with anyone who had an opinion, or better still - real experiences, in protecting our fragile world from "dark spirits," as he would refer to them.

The Count had struck up an unlikely friendship with a noble Lord based in Nottingham, England. He'd promised to visit the Lord, the next time he was due to be in London and with this journey he'd delivered upon his promise. The Count had spent two days in Nottingham pouring through the Lord's private library and discussing cases, stories, and legends that revolved around a common topic; fighting the forces of evil. To many, the fight between good and evil, light and darkness, was just a commonly used topic to scare and manipulate people. It's often seen as a method to control the masses and forcing compliance to society's normative values. For two days, the Count was like a wondrous child let loose in a store full of candies. He reveled in the stories, examined artifacts, poured through books, and was offered full access to the Lord's private collection.

Jean d'Alluye knew from first-hand experience that the fight between good and evil was real. Jean had portrayed himself as an ardent supporter of the Count's cause, expressing an intense interest in this subject. Jean had not shared with the Count his unique ability to transport between realms and timelines. When the Count had invited Jean to accompany him on his visit to England it was to provide an additional level of personal protection and some surety of his safe return. Jean knew that the world needed people like the Count. The Count would provide thought leadership and patronage to this worthiest of cause. Jean was determined to keep the Count safe at all costs for this planned visit would offer the forces of evil a perfect opportunity to compromise his safety. The Count was relieved when Jean had agreed; he knew the dangers that lurked upon the highway connecting Nottingham to London.

Having Jean ride along with him, dressed in a knight's armor and colors would provide a strong deterrent for any opportunistic thief. Not only would it signal a formidable fighter present within their ranks, but also it would bring a heightened code of honor and respect for any opportunistic thief. If a knight was attached and his honor compromised then the local fraternity of knights would be sworn to defend his honor. The British round-table of knights would seek to find the perpetrators of such an attack and bring them to justice. Any would-be thief would want to avoid this type of unnecessary attention and ultimately persecution.

Jean had other business he wanted to attend to while in London, so this visit provided him with an opportunity to advance his agenda on many fronts. It was a cloudy September day as they embarked upon their return journey back to London. Four French soldiers were leading the Count's travelling procession. Mark Petite was stationed at the front of the travelling formation. He was the head of the Count's personal security, and a little annoyed that Jean had been invited along. The Count rode beside Jean; he was safely protected within the middle of the pack. Six riders followed at the rear, two riders from the Count's French security team and an additional four riders provided as a courtesy by the Lord. The Lord had warned the Count of the dangers that existed on the highway and had offered four of his best soldiers, bearing the standards and colors of the Lord. The riders would escort the travelling Count safely through the dense woods, the most dangerous section of the journey. Once through, they would peel away leaving the group to proceed back to London.

The plan to ensure the Count's safety was working; the journey was progressing without incident. The travelling party had observed several groups of men loitering with intent deep within the woods. They saw more men gathered at a narrow in the road ideally suited for a targeted ambush. Both times, the men had milled around sheepishly before dissipating harmlessly into the surrounding woods. The standard bearers strategically positioned at the rear of the travelling party had served as a warning. The wrath that would be unleashed from the local Lord, if this group were attacked, was clearly not worth the risk. The additional presence of a Knight would have signaled the importance of this travelling dignitary. After a quick opportunistic assessment most thieves would conclude that a group like this should be left alone and allowed to proceed unobstructed.

The group rode on until they approached the outskirts of London. As planned, when they had cleared the woods, the four soldiers provided by the Lord bid their farewell and turned back towards the north. Jean decided to move to the front of the travelling party where he could assess the danger head-on as it arrived. They continued to travel south without incident until they reached a sharp bend in the road ahead. The dark outline of a figure appeared crouched at the side of the road. Jean raised his hand, a signal to halt the advancing group. He was suspicious. There was no reason for a man dressed in monk's robes to be alone, with no method of transportation, at the side of the road. Jean suspected this was a ploy to distract the group, and divert attention, while being attacked from each flank. "Guards be on alert," shouted Jean.

Jean squeezed his legs together gently poking his horse's ribs with his heels encouraging the horse to move forward. The obedient horse stepped forward to approach the mysteriously crouching figure. The forest had grown quiet and it was one of those moments when time itself seemed to slow down. Was this the moment before everything happened? Was this the inevitable calm before the storm, thought Jean? Jean approached with extreme caution; he scanned for any signs of movement examining each side of the road and tilting his head skywards to assess the threat posed from the overhanging trees. Everything seemed calm and clear. This made Jean more suspicious. Something clearly did not feel right about this situation. As the horse approached cautiously, the crouched figure positioned ahead started to move. He slowly and deliberately lifted his right arm withdrawing his sword from its protective sheath. Still crouched, the man stabbed the large sword into the dirt road. The man gripped the sword at the top of its blade, as his robes fell away to reveal a powerful muscular forearm. The hilt and cross-guard of the sword were now clearly visible. Capping the handle of the sword, the hilt comprised of a unique crescent-shaped metal pommel. Jean's eyes widened, and a wave of relief swept through his entire body as he instantly recognized the sword. The forest remained eerily quiet; Jean could hear the breathing of the horses in the party behind him waiting to proceed. The sun's rays streamed through the overhanging trees and a faint protestation of a bird could be heard in the far distance. Jean took a deep breath and trusted his instincts; he urged his reluctant horse forward towards the crouched figure of the man.

Jean gave a small tug on the reins to signal to the horse to stop. The horse obeyed instantly. Towering above the crouching figure before him, Jean reverted to being suspicious and cautious again. "Good morning my good man. Do tell, what's a monk like you doing on a dirt road in the forests of England?" Before he could answer, another comment was added, "Especially a monk that proudly displays such a fine sword originating from Crescent Island?"

The monk remained calm, bothering only to turn his hooded head slowly towards the rider. The monk exposed his chin, followed by his scarred face. Finally his deep-set brown eyes came into view. "I wouldn't come here if it wasn't serious. We need you Jean, and it involves Rose. She needs you."

Jean instantly recognized the man at the side of the road. "Where is she, Crescent Island?" inquired Jean lowering his voice.

"No, we need you to go where your Roman coin tells you to go. You won't find her at Crescent Island." insisted Kaan.

Their conversation was interrupted, "Is everything ok Sire?" shouted Mark Petite impatiently from his horse stationed well behind Jean. The travelling party wondered what the conversation was about with the soldiers nervously glancing into the woods preparing for an attack from their flanks.

"Yes. I want to talk with this man before we can proceed. We need to be safe and he offers valuable information," Jean shouted back his response. Lowering his voice considerably Jean continued, "Kaan, how do you know about the Roman coin?"

"Rose told me. She gave you a rare coin, a Roman coin necklace. Fortunately, Rose gave her coin necklace to a frightened kid of a monk; he used it to escape from the massacre at the Monastery of Light. It was the only thing that saved his life and, as it turned out, it saved mine too. If that kid hadn't escaped and raised the alarm, well," he paused thoughtfully. "Likely I'd still be there, a stone statue frozen in time. Since then, she's taken it back Jean and she's been wearing it ever since. You know it's a bonded pair, and she probably likes you or something," he said with a sarcastic smile. "Listen, we need you to follow the Roman coin, but before you do that, I have a note for you. It contains very specific instructions from Rose. It's vitally important you follow them exactly."

"Kaan, I shouldn't leave right now, I'd be placing the Count in extreme danger and we need him; but if Rose is in danger I'll leave now." inquired Jean, the sound of concern running through his voice.

"Jean it's good, we need you to travel into the future but it's within this realm – Earth. Your instructions are all clearly written within this note," Kaan raised his other hand. When the sleeve of his robe fell away it revealed a folded note grasped within his thick fingers.

"How far do you need me to travel into the future," Jean asked quietly?

"Hundreds of years," Kaan whispered; the horse stood patiently by. It shook its long black snout abruptly as it tried to dissuade a persistent blue-fly.

"That's good," said Jean, "I can fulfill my obligations here first. I can escort the Count Descheilles back to London, and then safely return him to his home in Lyon before travelling to the future. The Count will be an important player in our ongoing battle. With my destination being in the future, and within this realm, it doesn't really matter if I leave now, or later, does it? I'm still going to arrive at the same time. Tell me though, is she in serious trouble?"

"She needs your help, we all do. It's not trouble, but just read this note carefully. Make sure you take extra care with your travel and connect to her through the Roman coin; follow the details outlined in the note exactly. There will be no margin for error. I'm going to approach your horse now, and we're going to shake hands. I'm going to slip you the note and walk away into the woods. Tell your fellow travellers that we discussed the dangers of the road ahead and the thieves that frequent this area. Tell them that you gained valuable information but you're safe to proceed."

"Wait, before we do this, this will make it look more credible." Jean reached into his leather pouch and retrieved a silver coin. Kaan leaned upon his sword and raised his crouched body away from the dirt road to approach the horse. He extended his hand. Jean shook it vigorously retrieving the note. He made a show of presenting the monk with a silver coin before Kaan walked away briskly disappearing into the woods.

Jean turned his horse and rode back to his waiting group. He approached Count Descheilles to deliver his message, "The monk had valuable information. There's a group of local thieves that usually patrol the road ahead. The monk advised me that today we're safe; this group is hunting further north within the woods. We may have passed them when the Lord's additional soldiers escorted us. Seems like we were lucky, this group only respects the Lord's banners. I suggest we proceed onwards, while we still can."

Jean led the group into London arriving later that day; he was tired and had resisted the temptation to read the note passed to him by Kaan. When they were all safely returned to London, and Jean was alone within his room at a boarding house, he eagerly digested the note. Jean read every word carefully, several times. Jean felt at odds with himself, every cell in his body wanted to leave immediately and rush to his lover's aid. He knew the exact time and date he needed to transport into the future. He was confident, almost arrogantly cocky, that he could transport to within a few seconds of the instruction he was given within the note.

The Roman coin that Rose wore around her neck was part of a pair found in an excavation and originally cast in Firenze, Italy. Rose had presented Jean the Roman coin necklace as a gift, taking it directly from her own neck. She'd promised to retrieve the matching coin necklace from the neck of the terrified young monk, now living at Crescent Island. Rose had previously explained to Jean the reason why the monk had the matching coin and how it had saved his life. She'd bonded the pair of coins with a powerful connection spell. This would allow Jean to always connect with her through realms and across timelines. Jean assumed the necklace was now hanging around his lover's neck. Kaan had confirmed this fact when they spoke in the forest. Both Jean and Kaan, were unaware that it was Aishen who now wore the Rose's Roman coin necklace temporarily dangling from her throat.

Jean was desperate to join Rose immediately; from the moment Kaan had told him that Rose needed his help. In good conscience he couldn't, he respected his obligation to the Count, and his promise to return him safely to his home in France. With a date and time set in the future it made no difference to Rose when he left, only that he arrived on time. If he had left prematurely and the Count had met with an unfortunate end, he would never have forgiven himself. If he had left early and the Count had arrived home safely, the Count would never have forgiven Jean for abandoning him and breaking his promise.

It was now settled in his mind, the minute he bid farewell to the Count, safely returned to his home in Lyon, Jean d'Alluye would grasp the paired Roman coin suspended around his neck and disappear into the future within a flash of light.

* * * * *

### The Fifth Realm - Earth

### Chapter 12: A Guilty Rendezvous

Westtown, Pennsylvania, U.S.A., 2018

"I have a rendezvous with life."

Ally and Dan were huddled together at a small table tucked away within the coffee shop in Westtown, Pennsylvania. To the casual observer the two looked like they were conspiring and probably up to no good. Were they plotting a childish prank, playing a cruel joke, or perhaps skipping class to be together? These were the likely explanations based upon their behavior. They glanced around nervously while whispering to each other intent on nobody hearing their intimate conversations. Guilty school kids always have a certain look about them; the barista serving the coffee recognized this look and wondered what they were both up to. They seemed pleasant enough when they had ordered and paid for their drinks. She even recognized them as having been at the café before.

Ally and Dan had selected a table near the back wall of the café where they could both watch the door. The rain had started to fall outside; they'd both removed their light coats and placed them upon the backs of their chairs. Ally wore a high-neck black woolen sweater, perfect for concealing the necklace that lay beneath.

"It's still there, right?" Dan asked with a worried tone.

Ally could feel Myrddin's heavy necklace against her skin, but to satisfy her paranoia, she reached upwards raising her hands to feel its protruding shape. It was still securely hanging around her neck; she could feel it through the wool of the sweater. "Relax, yes, it's still here."

"Come on, where is she?" said Dan under his breath, he appeared anxious.

"I said relax, she'll be here soon enough," assured Ally, taking a sip of her steaming coffee. Dan hadn't touched his drink, he felt the butterflies flying around frantically within his stomach. He knew if he ate or drank anything he would have a hard time trying to keep it down, he was that nervous.

The café door had opened twice; they'd raised their eyes and their expectations only to be disappointed with the person who walked into the café looking for their morning drink. The door creaked open once again and a fresh waft of morning air streamed into the café. This time it was Rose. She entered the familiar coffee shop cautiously. She closed the door behind her and joined Ally and Dan at their small round table. Rose was dressed in long black robes that glistened with the wet droplets of rain that had started to fall outside. She looked odd and out of place. Fortunately she would be seen as eclectic in todays mixed up world.

"Are you wearing it?" she inquired of Ally.

Ally simply nodded her affirmation, "Did everything go well with you?" Ally inquired.

Rose allowed herself a small smile of satisfaction, "Yes, all is good. It's coming together nicely. Let's go to the park, we need to be alone."

"We have a better idea, we have a more private place in mind. Let's go to Dan's home, his mother won't be back until later tonight and we'll be away from any prying eyes." Ally stared at Rose's face searching for any sign of disapproval, or acceptance.

"Is it far away?" Rose inquired.

"No. Closer than the park," whispered Dan.

"Then let's go," Rose said as she left the table. Dan and Ally barely had time to grab their coats and their things before Rose had left the café.

No words were spoken on the short walk to Dan's apartment. Rose nervously scanned the wet streets assessing the danger. They hurried through the rain where finally it was Rose who entered Dan's apartment first. She moved rapidly from room to room. She swept through the small apartment searching for any unwanted visitors. After she was satisfied they were alone she returned to the kitchen area where Dan and Ally stood waiting. They'd taken off their wet coats and hung them on the back of the kitchen chairs. Dan could not believe his eyes. It was the Crocodile Queen, the actual Crocodile Queen, right here standing in the kitchen of his apartment. It seemed very weird to him, a complete juxtaposition of his worlds. Dan knew if he said anything about this, he would appear foolish and stupid, but to him, having a being from another realm standing in his kitchen was a big deal.

"Where's the Dream Cane?" inquired Rose, she seemed in a hurry, anxious to seize the moment.

"In my bedroom," Dan tilted his head in the direction of his bedroom door.

Rose allowed her eyes to wander in the direction of Dan's bedroom door, "Let's go - now," she said with increasing urgency. Dan followed Rose and Ally into his bedroom retrieving the Dream Cane carefully hidden within his bedroom closet. Rose stared at the cane, examining its exquisite details. "This is only the second time I've seen this magnificent cane. I've never been this close before where I can appreciate the exquisite craftsmanship. I've heard so much about this Cane. Every measurement in this piece had to be so precise otherwise it wouldn't work. The first time I ever saw this cane was a few lifetimes ago in central India. A beautifully proud Indian woman owned it, but that was long time ago. People still talk about this piece today. Be careful they try to find it. Many don't believe it still exists but here it is propped against a wall in your bedroom closet," she said, seeming strangely wistful. "I need you both to hold the Dream Cane, it will provide you with safe passage, but more importantly, it will give you both a route back home. I will place my hands upon your shoulders Ally and we'll all travel together. Ally, one final check, is Myrddin's necklace still around your neck?"

Ally took her sweater off and carefully placed it upon Dan's bed. The necklace now hung freely around her neck, plainly visible as it lay on top of her t-shirt. Dan looked nervous, "Good," said Rose abruptly, "Then let's go."

Dan and Ally held onto the Dream Cane with both hands, as Rose rested her hands upon their shoulders. A swirl of crimson light flooded Dan's bedroom and in an instant, they were all gone. Dan, Ally and Rose all transported to the church in Abilene. Rose and Ally left Dan with the flask of holy water, before leaving the church again.

* * * * *

### The Fifth Realm – Earth

### Chapter 13: Elora's Revenge

Lyon, France, 1700's.

"I have often depended on the blindness of strangers."

Jean d'Alluye arrived back in Lyon, France, a tired but relieved man. Torn between by his sense of duty and a binding promise that he'd made to Count Descheilles. Jean was haunted by the constant nagging feeling that he needed to respond to the note hand delivered to him by his good friend Kaan. Rose needed him. He'd promised her, he would always be there for her whenever she needed him. At her side is where he wanted to be, and it wouldn't be long now before he could follow the instructions carefully laid out for him within her handwritten letter.

After the Count had been safely delivered to his home, Jean was relaxing in the comforts of his more modest estate. He entered his wood paneled library. Jean locked the large oak doors behind him using an impressively large brass key. He sat at his carved wooden desk and spread the hand-written letter out laying it upon the top of his desk. He leaned over the letter to read it again inspecting every written word. Jean had read his instructions so many times, yet he knew he couldn't afford to make a single mistake. He needed to be unequivocally accurate.

Jean went quietly to his bedroom on the third floor of his chateau. He indicated to his house servants of his desire not to be disturbed before closing the large wooden double bedroom doors. Jean had carried a lit candle with him and placed it carefully upon his bedside table. The candle flickered providing the only light source in a darkened room. Jean undressed, methodically folding his clothes and placing them carefully upon a chair next to a large window covered by thick drapes. Jean moved slowly and deliberately towards his bed. He slipped under the covers and lay quietly upon his back. He took a deep breath and stared at the oil paintings hanging upon his bedroom wall. He could barely see the vivid scenes depicted upon their canvases in the dim light provided by the flickering candle. Jean was procrastinating fearful he would make a mistake; he knew what he had to do next. He raised his hands, lifted his head slightly from his pillow, and found his Roman coin necklace. He reached behind his head fumbling to find the clasp and removed the necklace. Jean extended his right arm and placed the necklace down gently beside the lit candle. Jean took a sharp intake of breath and blew the candle's flame out extinguishing the only light source. The bedroom was plunged into total darkness. It was quiet where Jean was alone with his thoughts. Jean lay motionless within his bed and concentrated on his breathing. He tried to regulate his body's rhythm using deep long calming breathing patterns. It wasn't long before Jean lost consciousness and slipped into a deep relaxing sleep.

The Roman coin necklace had provided Jean with protection granted by a powerful ancient spell. The most talented white Witch living today, the Crocodile Queen had activated it. This ingenious spell was designed to obfuscate Jean's presence, and to provide him with the cover needed to protect him from evil forces while he slept. When sleeping, Jean would be at his most vulnerable. Rose had pair bonded the Roman coins where the energies of the coins would always be perfectly matched. The coins would constantly seek each other out over time and distance. Rose also wanted to protect Jean's vulnerable sleep state from unwelcome visitors, she wanted to provide Jean with the most comprehensive protection that she could.

When Jean removed the Roman coin from his neck, he knowingly exposed his body and soul to the dark forces that were tracking him. It didn't take long before Elora realized a mistake had been made. A glorious window of opportunity had presented itself. For Elora, time was irrelevant; patience was always rewarded by a momentary lapse in judgement. Perhaps the necklace needed a repair. Perhaps it had been accidentally torn away during a fight. Was it stolen? There could be endless possibilities, which Elora had seen before. It made no difference to her, what mattered was the protective blocking spell had now been lifted and Jean was vulnerable.

Just as the Japanese had feared the Ochitacki, a dark evil spirit that visits and torments its victims through their dreams, Jean had now opened a back door for evil spirits to enter into his dreams. Elora was suddenly aware; an unconscious voice raised an alarm coupled with an all-consuming vividly clear image of Jean that now entered her mind. Elora instantly recognized the opportunity, and was only too willing to resurrect her Ochitacki tendencies. She had a glorious opportunity to torture the Knight who had caused her so much pain. Elora elevated her anger to unimaginable heights. Jean had raised his sword willingly to execute Wendy, the sister of Elora. Elora had sworn that she would avenge Wendy's death, and this was an ideal opportunity to cause the Knight pain and make him pay for what he did that fateful day.

Elora had tried to exact part of her revenge with her well-executed plan to encapsulate Kaan within a stone shell at the Monastery of Light. This time, with this new opportunity, she was determined not to fail. Jean had entered into a dream state and Elora knew she had the perfect opportunity to exact her revenge. She smiled with anticipation; she looked forward to torturing the Knight, inflicting an excruciatingly slow death. Elora decided quickly that she wouldn't waste this golden opportunity. She planned to enter into Jean's dream, attack him, prolong a torturous process and eventually execute him by crushing his throat with her powers. She thought about it and changed her mind. Yes, she just wanted him dead, she didn't need to elongate the torture process to derive her pleasure. It was settled in her mind, this time a quick sudden death would provide her with ample satisfaction.

Jean started to dream, he found himself lying on his back supported by a soft grassy bank located adjacent to the river's edge. He stared upwards at the bright sun positioned high within the afternoon sky. He turned his face towards the warmth of the sun's rays. Jean watched a small white fluffy cloud float harmlessly across the azure sky. In the distance he could hear a welcome breeze rustling through the trees and the faint dulcet tones of a meadowlark. He stretched his hands outwards and positioned them behind his head inhaling the clear fresh air.

It all started with the faintest of odors, a strange smell that Jean didn't recognize. It smelt as though something had died or was rotting nearby. Clouds started to encroach upon the once clear blue sky at an alarming pace. Even in the most ferocious of storms, Jean had never seen clouds move across the sky this fast. They had started as small-unconnected clouds but now they'd moved together to form larger masses. Swirls of clouds thickened, growing darker and more menacing by the minute. Jean's body, which once felt light and calm was now feeling sluggish and heavy. A sense of anxiety and panic rose from deep within his chest. Jean's breathing shallowed as he struggled to move away from the impending storm. He realized that he couldn't move his body at all; it was as if the grassy bank was sucking him into the earth like a giant vacuum cleaner.

Jean could see the glistening brook that ambled past him clear and strong, the water started to change. The rushing clear water started to cloud slowing its flow; it turned black and bubbled upwards rising unnaturally. Jean watched as a column of black water started to undulate. It changed its shape to resemble the form of a human figure. Jean was transfixed watching the black shape form a head, followed by arms and a torso. The shining black watery figure moved towards the grassy bank and changed its form again. Jean blinked in disbelief, the shape had transformed into a woman who appeared to float above the grass. She wore a long red dress; strands of her hair flew wildly in the strong wind.

The woman approached Jean he noticed her brilliantly green eyes. Jean felt his heart race; he wanted desperately to move away. He was panicked and wanted to run as fast as he could. Jean could feel the anxiety course through his entire body. This was a dangerous situation and he knew he needed to escape. The sky behind the woman had filled in where it was almost completely black above her. It was peppered with streams of white-hot thunderbolts that crackled across the angry sky. Her long black hair continued to be whipped around in the rising winds reminding him of Medusa's black snakes.

The woman had moved closer, she inspected Jean's face taking in every detail. She moved to the side of his limp body towering over him. Jean's breathing became shallow as he was consumed by genuine fear at the sight of this thin wiry woman. If he could only wake up. In his heart Jean knew this was Elora, the most powerful and evil Witch in all the realms. He knew what she was capable of. Everything around him had suddenly grown dark and cold. The searing flash of a thunderbolt raced across the blackened sky providing the occasional flash of light. Jean was paralyzed with fear; his once tranquil dream had now turned deadly with the arrival of Elora. The removal of his protective charm, the necklace Rose had gifted to him, had opened the door for Elora to exact her revenge. Jean was extremely vulnerable; Elora would certainly kill him, revenge for killing Wendy. There was no doubt, she'd killed, tortured and maimed in the past with no remorse.

Elora enjoyed and reveled in the feeling of rage rising up within her body when she remembered Wendy and what this despicable man had done to her. She raised her bony arm exposing her red silk sleeve to the raging wind. She pointed at Jean and he knew this would likely be the end. For a second he managed to close his eyes expecting the worse. Above her the dark skies continued to swirl as a thunderbolt lit the sky with two lightening forks crashing down from the clouds. The noise made Jean open his eyes. He saw two brightly illuminated ropes streaming down from the heavens and barreling towards Elora. A thunderbolt usually streaks across the sky in an instant and then disappears. These remained, illuminated golden strands that managed to wrap themselves around each of Elora's wrists, restraining her and draining her of her immense powers. Elora struggled to break free, but her incarcerating restraints held firm. Jean saw movement to his left and a flood of relief surged through his body as he saw two shadowy figures emerging from the darkness. It was Ally accompanied by Rose, they stood each side of a confused and livid Elora. They each held onto the golden rope restraining the evil Witch. Elora opened her mouth to spit acid at the women, but nothing emerged. Everything Elora tried was futile, to her horror she found herself powerless. What normally came so easy now failed to work.

Elora was suddenly confused and frightened. She'd never been challenged before; she had always prevailed when she invaded someone else's dream. Elora had underestimated the power of Myrddin's necklace. Ally was exploiting its ancient power and wisdom to its fullest. In this dream state, Elora was usually all-powerful with no physical boundaries to limit her. If she decided to execute someone, they would die in their physical realm also. It was a powerful weapon that she'd used for centuries to maim, torture, intimidate, and kill her enemies. With her wrists restrained, her feet seemingly planted, and her powers eliminated, Elora felt hopelessly trapped, exposed, and for the first time in her long life, vulnerable.

Rose shortened the rope where she could firmly snare Elora's wrist. Ally mirrored her movements. Rose looked at Jean, still immobilized and laying upon his back. "You can wake up now my love, I will see you shortly," she shouted struggling to be heard over the raging wind.

Rose smiled at Jean and in a flash the three women were gone. Jean's body shuddered violently as he woke, regaining consciousness within his own bed. Drenched in sweat, he sat bolt upright in a dazed, confused, and bewildered state. He struggled to breathe as he gasped for air. Jean glanced around his darkened bedroom, trying to reconcile his dream. He smelt the faintest wisp of that foul odor. He realized after all of the battles that he'd fought in, this was the closest he'd come to staring death in the face? Was that really Elora? Was his dream real? Rose, accompanied by another young woman, had managed to restrain Elora. Could they defeat her? It was a brave move, and definitely a gamble. He hoped desperately that they both knew what they were doing.

Jean rested his head back upon his pillow. He was exhausted, but his mind raced with a thousand questions, which tired him even more. Jean reached over to his bedside table and quickly retrieved his Roman coin necklace. He re-clasped it around the back of his neck before allowing his head to rest upon his pillow again. It wasn't long before he drifted away, this time into a protected dreamless shallow sleep.

* * * * *

### The Fifth Realm - Earth

### Chapter 14: Dragon's Fire

Wales, United Kingdom, AD 560

"Always speak politely to an enraged Dragon."

A precious stone was Myrddin's source of power, it was always hiding in plain sight clasped within a necklace and anchored by two crescent shapes as black as pure onyx. The crescent shapes were as hard as Welsh slate, but deceptively they were not made of stone. They were made from Dragon's claws. Kaan transported back in time arriving in the Welsh countryside, the evening before a seminal moment in Welsh history. That night, darkened skies and barren moors welcomed a thunderstorm and lashing rain. The night provided the perfect cover for a battle-hardened monk to transport into the desolate Welsh countryside.

Hounded and harassed, a large female Welsh Dragon looked to the skies. She was fearful of the white-hot lightning bolts that streaked across the skies above. The Dragon had seen the damage a lightning strike could inflict upon a large tree or a building made from stone. Loud thunder cracks accompanied the lightning bolts reminding her of canon fire and that fateful day. Her daughter, a much smaller Dragon huddled closely to her side snuggling in for warmth and comfort. She could hear her daughter's breathing as she poked her head out from the cave's entrance that provided shelter from the rain.

She looked to the skies again, letting her large heavy eyelids close as she remembered that day approximately three years ago. Her young one had just learned to fly, she could only manage to fly a short distance before becoming exhausted. An immature Dragon would normally take two months to develop their chest and wing muscles sufficiently to fly for long distances. Soldiers had tracked the family of Dragons and were getting close to discovering their home cave. The Dragons had moved to higher ground to misdirect the soldiers away from their home and their shelter. The soldiers were no match for an adult male Welsh Dragon. The castle's soldiers had attempted to fight this family of Dragons before but they simply flew away to safety. Flying down the coastline that day they glided along the cliff's edge using the ample sea-winds to assist them. When the young Dragon grew tired they diverted their course to afford the young one an opportunity to rest. Heading back inland, they passed a castle strategically built near the coastline. The castle had recently installed larger cannons that offered a greater strike range, with improved accuracy. This came as a surprise to the family of Welsh Dragons. As they glided by heading inland, they were met with a barrage of canon fire. One of the heavy cannon balls struck the male Dragon with such force that it shattered bones in his breast, right wing and shoulder. A large roar of pain accompanied the impact as he struggled to flap his injured wing and maintain his flying abilities. The male Dragon fell heavily crashing to the ground further injuring his legs and back. His partner and child joined him on the ground to provide protection. Upon seeing the injured Dragon soldiers were immediately dispatched from the castle to kill the magnificent wounded beast.

The female Dragon tried to fight off the soldiers but she knew they would likely kill her stricken partner and her exhausted child. She encouraged the young Dragon to fly away and they retreated back to the safety of the cave where she stashed her infant, hidden from harm. She flew as quickly as she could, pumping her wings frantically towards the coastline. She remembered how strong the headwinds were that day; everything seemed to be conspiring against her. She flapped her wings hard until her heart felt like it would burst open. Approaching a grassy flat located near the coast, she could see a ring of soldiers attacking her mate. They had successfully backed him up against the cliffs with a steep drop onto the jagged rocks looming behind him. She could see the scorched earth indicated his previous attempts to defend himself with fire but a Dragon can only breath so much fire before it severely weakens them. He was flightless, crippled, and now punctured with arrows and spears. He was snapping wildly with his large jaws, bleeding, and frightened. The male Dragon was fighting for his life, bravely raising his head to the skies at the sight of his mate making her way towards him. That's when she saw the reason for his panic and his desperate roars. The soldiers had rolled out a cannon from the castle that was now aimed right at him. She flew as quickly as she could, responding to his cries for help. Then she heard a sound that would stay with her and haunt her dreams for as long as she lived. A puff of white smoke was followed by a large booming sound that echoed along the coastline as a large cannon ball shot towards the male Dragon. He was weak, flightless, and injured. The force of the impact from the cannon ball propelled the Dragon backwards. He was forced over the cliff, where he crashed to his death on the sea-soaked jagged rocks below.

She saw it all, arriving too late to prevent it. Angry and distraught, she wasn't proud of what she did next, but in a fit of rage she felt it was justified. Using her speed and size, she shot flames at the soldiers from above. She landed amongst the carnage to ensure nobody survived her brutal retribution. Satisfied the attacking soldiers were all dead, she flew to the base of the cliffs. She would sniff at her mate, gently nudging him with her snout. He was gone, and her heart sank. She was livid, she flew towards the castle and burned as much of it as she could, killing as many as she could. It was this act that justified the soldier's need to eradicate all Dragons from Wales. Dragons were now seen as extremely dangerous vicious creatures that posed a threat to mankind. Even the doubters had been convinced by this latest attack that was falsely positioned as unprovoked. The soldiers were only too eager to spread a false tale of a family of vicious Dragons attacking a castle and its innocent inhabitants. The message was cleverly crafted to where the castle's soldiers had managed to bravely kill a large male Dragon in an act of defending themselves, but many had paid the ultimate sacrifice. Unfortunately, some of the Dragons involved in the attack had escaped unharmed. It was unanimously agreed that they needed to be found and eradicated. All Dragons were now a menace to civilized society.

With the rhetoric stirred up to a fever pitch, the Dragon hunt was officially on. The next day as morning's first light broke through the clouds little did anyone know that it would become an infamous day in Welsh history? The castle stirred earlier than usual with a garrison of additional soldiers arriving the night before. The soldiers were acting upon a tip. A group of local children playing in the woods had stumbled across what they believed was the Dragon's cave. They reported the location to the authorities immediately. A plan was devised.

It was the smaller Dragon that ventured out of the cave first that morning. A nearby stream provided clear cool water to quench the thirst. The Dragon ambled its way to the stream's edge as it had done most mornings of its young life. That morning, as it lowered its head to sip the refreshing water it heard a rustling sound within the bushes behind. The Dragon whipped its head around to inspect the noise. It was met with a hail of arrows, as archers fired at the Dragon from the bushes, tops of the trees, and a vantage point upon a nearby hill. The archers were camouflaged in ferns, adorned with moss and dirt to mask their smell to cleverly blend into the forest.

As numerous arrows pierced the young Dragon's wings, back, and legs, she screamed in agony immediately waking her slumbering mother. The large female Dragon rushed to her side snarling and attempting to defend her child. The soldiers were well hidden as another wave of arrows assaulted the Dragons. She spouted fire at anything that moved but couldn't really locate the threat as she indiscriminately torched the surrounding foliage. A large rope net was dropped from the trees above entangling the mother Dragon and preventing her from taking flight. Soldiers broke cover to secure the heavy net to trees and boulders. She managed to kill a couple of the soldiers as they came too close. She was now restrained, pinned to the ground by the heaving rope netting. The arrows came again this time raining down on them both. She desperately tried to get her child to fly away from the danger but her young wings were so damaged by the piercingly painful arrows that the young Dragon could hardly move. In a last ditch attempt, the mother Dragon tried to shield the child with her body. More arrows arrived causing more pain. She screamed in agony as the arrows pierced her back, neck, face and wings.

More soldiers advanced applying more nets and attaching ropes to bind the mother Dragon as she desperately tried to protect her child. Eventually both Dragons were vanquished and the soldiers were jubilant. Kaan couldn't bear to witness this tragic event, the demise of these magnificent old-world spiritual beasts slaughtered out of malice, ignorance, fear, and greed. Kaan would have been so incensed that he would have turned his fury upon the soldiers. For this reason Kaan kept away, far enough away that he would not hear the desperate roars of the mother and child. He would not be able to forget those sounds and he knew he had to focus upon the task at hand.

The ability to travel between realms and traverse different time periods came with a serious responsibility. Deeds and actions perpetrated by visitors could change the course of history. What effects would these changes have longer term if Kaan had intervened? Kaan deliberately stayed away from this tragic chapter of Welsh history. He let the soldiers celebrate, he let them load the Dragons onto wooden carts and transport them away from the forest. They were proudly displayed as trophies within the castle. Many people, including dignitaries and even the King, travelled to see the magnificent beasts. Few knew they were the last of their kind anywhere.

Kaan visited the scene of the battle. He waited until dark and followed the cart's tracks into the forest. Near the stream he saw the remnants of the battle. The carnage was still fresh with charred bodies left and abandoned in the forest. Blackened tree trunks were singed with fire. Arrows were everywhere, some broken and snapped. Some were still embedded within tree trunks. Kaan approached carefully, avoiding the sharp arrowheads. He was looking for something specific and he knew if he searched carefully he would find it. He moved calmly around the scene until he spotted what he was looking for. It was across the stream resting upon a small mud bank. He leapt across the narrow passage of running water and landed on the other side. A large tree had stood valiantly against a surge of fire produced by the mother Dragon. A branch had fallen from the tree trunk and was lying blackened and charred along the mud bank.

One end of the branch was a powdery mass of white ash. The other end was still a wooden limb of a tree but the middle of the branch glowed with glorious burnt red embers. The embers tried to devour the wood. Kaan retrieved the branch picking it up; the burnt ash crumbled and fell away. He raised the blackened end of the branch to his mouth and gently blew upon the dying embers. His breath seemed to refuel the embers and they sprang back into life with a glorious burst of glowing red. Kaan looked beyond the muddy bank and saw bark chips lying upon the forest floor. He scooped up a large handful and deposited them into his pocket.

Kaan shook his head, looking at the carnage caused at the stream's edge. He found it difficult to believe that hundreds of years later he would see a piece of this wonderful Dragon mounted within a decorative necklace that would hang around a pretty girl's neck, even if she were a white Witch. Kaan closed his eyes and in an instant, he, and the branch he'd retrieved, were both gone. The resultant flash caused a curious owl to fly away stricken with fear.

It's ironic that in modern day Wales, the Dragon is now celebrated and revered. The Baner Cymru (Welsh Flag) shows a Red Dragon proudly and prominently displayed. The Dragon is now integral to all Welsh heraldry.

* * * * *

### The Fifth Realm – Earth

### Chapter 15: The Trap

Abilene, Kansas, USA, 1976.

"I love it when a plan comes together."

Dan paced nervously across the slate floor of the old church nestled at the edge of the Smokey Hill River, on the outskirts of Abilene. He felt jumpy and nervous. Dan checked the setup again. He was determined that he would not be singled out as the one who made the costly mistake. A chalk square was now drawn upon the church floor. Carefully placed at each corner was a small piece of stone. Four metal bowls had been deliberately placed inside the square strategically placed at each corner. Dan had taken a hymnbook from the back of one of the benches and ripped paper pages from the book. He shredded the pages, tearing them with his hands and piling the torn paper into a heap within one of the metal bowls. A chair was deliberately placed on one edge of the square. Resting on the flat seat of the chair was another empty metal bowl and lying casually next to it was a golden dagger. Dan recognized the Fourth Dagger of Xiang, borrowed unceremoniously from Mr. Flash in Hong Kong. A blinding flash of light illuminated the interior of the church, a figure started to emerge from the resultant haze. It was Aishen. Aishen was dizzy, exhausted and disoriented, she felt weak, pleased, and relieved. Aishen stared at the young man before her before finally breaking the silence, "I did it. I feel terrible, but I did it," she stammered.

"Yes you did, and are we pleased to see you," said Dan, acknowledging her relief.

Dan was holding the leather pouch containing holy water; he poured half of the water into a metal dish located at one of the corners of the chalked square. He walked over to the chair that supported the dagger and the empty metal bowl. Dan carefully poured the remaining water into the metal bowl. He discarded the empty leather pouch by placing it upon a church bench.

Aishen managed to unclip her thick leather belt and handed it over to Dan. He knew exactly what to do with her precious cargo. Aishen staggered over to a church bench to catch her breath and regain her composure, she felt her head start to spin.

"Take it easy, rest, you did a great job. We're doing well. We want to make sure we set this up perfectly," Dan said, making himself busy with the belt's contents. He took the leather pouch containing the dirt and nervously poured its contents into one of the metal bowls. It made a slight clanging sound as the dirt hit the metal. Aishen watched intensely as Dan continued. Dan carefully placed the empty leather pouch on one of the church benches positioned off to one side. Dan's hands were shaking as he pushed upon each empty glass vial. He slid them out of their hoops individually releasing them from their restraints and being careful not to dislodge the cork seals or drop the glass vials onto the stone floor. Dan placed each sealed vial into a metal bowl positioned at one of the corners of the chalk square. Aishen inspected Dan's every move with a keen critical eye to ensure he didn't make a mistake.

A sudden drop in temperature within the church's main hall followed by a noticeable breeze inside the church signaled Atheria's arrival. She undulated and spun in a whirlwind changing her form and shape rapidly. No words were exchanged she simply took up her position at one of the corners of the chalked square that housed the metal dish containing the empty vials.

Another flash of light bounced off the interior walls of the church. A tall monk arrived as Kaan materialized in the middle of the chalk square. He scanned the room nodding his respect to Aishen, and then to Atheria, the Spiritual Leader of the Ninth Realm. Kaan walked over to Dan, carefully avoiding the chalk lines drawn on the church floor. "Is everything in order?" he inquired, the blackened charred tree branch still within the grip of his strong right hand. Dan nodded, too nervous to say any words. "What about you, how are you holding up?" inquired Kaan turning to Aishen.

"I'll be fine," she said, still feeling a bit dizzy from her travels.

"You did well Aishen, we're almost there. Take your positions everyone," he shouted, Kaan naturally assuming leadership of the scene unfolding within the church. Kaan scanned the bowls and the chair to ensure everything was in its correct place. Dan moved towards the metal dish containing the empty vials joining Atheria. Aishen pushed her weary body from the bench and moved towards the chair that supported the dagger and a metal bowl containing the holy water. Kaan moved towards the metal bowl containing the shredded paper from the church's hymnbook. Still holding the burnt tree branch, Kaan knelt before the bowl and gently blew upon the embers. They started to glow red again within the charred wood. He rested the branch across the lip of the bowl and delicately piled shredded paper on top of the embers. The paper ignited and burst into a small flame. Kaan dropped the burning paper into the bowl igniting more paper; he retrieved some small chips of wood from his pocket that he'd collected from the forest. He stacked the chips within the bowl to create a fire.

When Kaan was confident the fire would continue to burn, he discarded the tree branch placing it to one side and stood back from the middle of the room waiting and wondering. He ringed his hands knowing plenty could still go wrong. Everyone watched Kaan's actions relieved that a flame could now be seen burning within the bowl.

Dan moved towards the bowl containing the empty vials. He knelt before the vials as Atheria started to spin. Her movements resulted in a small, but contained, twister of air. He opened each vial, carefully removing the corks and pointing the vials towards Atheria. She spun quickly now and centered her small twisting current of air directly above the metal bowl. Dan removed the empty vials, and the discarded corks, before standing to one side. He could see the group waiting expectantly as each second that ticked by felt like an eternity. Where were they? Had something gone wrong?

The church was enveloped within another flash of intense golden light temporarily blinding its inhabitants. In the center of the chalked square, bordered by the four stones, appeared the outline of three women. Rose gripped Elora's wrist as tightly as she could, determined not to let go. Elora was still snared by the power of the golden rope. Ally held onto Elora's wrist frantically twisting the golden rope as tightly as she could. Elora tried everything. She struggled and writhed but her body seemed sapped of its strength. She tried to simply disappear intent on returning to her home realm but her abilities were stifled. She tried desperately to escape the dream she had willingly entered. She tried to scream loudly piercing the eardrums of her assailants but her voice was strangely muted. She tried to spit vile acid from her mouth but nothing seemed to work. Elora was captured within a dream, normally in this state she had unimaginable powers designed to torment her victims but tonight she'd been rendered ineffective and worse still, she'd been captured and retrained. The two white Witches had harnessed the power of Myrddin's necklace to restrain Elora; it was the necklace that rendered her powerless. They'd managed to transport her from Jean's dream to another place and time. Elora had never seen such powerful magic.

For the first time in her life Elora felt genuine fear, she held no solution to the state she found herself in. The two powerful white Witches struggled physically to hold her in place, but they knew she was safely trapped within the chalk square. Elora's wild black hair flew in all directions as she whipped her head back and forth like a demented mental patient. She was a tall slim woman who wore a simple red dress with spaghetti straps exposing her bare shoulders and arms. Her face was chiseled but striking its power and beauty. Deep green eyes scanned the church for a way out of her predicament. She tried to kick one of the bowls over but they were too far away from her and the Witches held her firmly in position. She felt weak and overpowered.

"Now!" shouted Kaan in a loud voice that implored action.

Elora was screaming but no sound was emanating from her mouth. She struggled violently but the golden ropes made from lightning bolts held her firm and continued to drain her power and her strength. Aishen grabbed the Fourth Dagger of Xiang, without hesitation she plunged its blade submerging it fully into the bowl of holy water perched on the chair and entered the chalked square. With water still dripping from the blade she approached the three women. Recalling the last time Aishen had seen this vile woman she remembered the pungent smell of searing burning flesh hanging from her arm that day, her next actions were committed without remorse or hesitation. Aishen thrust the dagger forward with the extreme force of a martial arts blow, pushing the blade deep into Elora's stomach. She penetrated the material of Elora's thin red dress and watched the pain register upon her face with extreme pleasure and gratification. Elora stopped fighting, she remained still and then struggled to hold her weight upright as her knees started to buckle."

A bright glow emanated from her stomach, "Don't let her go yet," shouted Rose to Ally defiantly. The glow erupted into a golden light that ate away at Elora's body. Confident this process was now irreversible, Rose shouted, "Now. You can let go now." Ally complied. She released Elora's wrist and stepped out of the chalk square watching in horror. Rose did the same as the group watched Elora being eaten alive from the inside by a ravenous golden light. The dagger fell heavily to the floor.

A flash of light behind them announced Jean's arrival in the church. He arrived to see Elora consumed by a golden light that devoured her body like a raging wave of acid. She thrust her hips forward violently but her contorted face could only manage silent screams. As evil as this woman was, the sight before them was so disturbing that it created a memory that everyone in the church that evening would never forget. The final remnants of Elora's body were consumed with wisps of black ashes floating downwards and settling on the church floor. The church fell silent as the paper fire in the metal bowl burned out and Atheria stopped spinning. The group realized what they had achieved. Elora within her dream state had been killed, this meant in her real state she'd also been killed. Somewhere in a dark place Elora had died.

* * * * *

### The Fifth Realm - Earth

### Chapter 16: What happened?

Abilene, Kansas, USA, 1976.

"There is only one happiness in this life, to love and be loved."

Jean's mouth hung open, he'd arrived just in time to witness Elora's horrific annihilation using powerful white magic. Dan raced to hug Ally, relieved she was safe and her plan had worked. Aishen smiled and collapsed to the floor in an exhausted heap content in her actions and her revenge. Rose retrieved the dagger nestled in a small pile of ashes and tucked it into her belt. Kaan allowed himself a rare smile, an unfamiliar sight for this usually stern, serious looking man. Atheria slowed, stopped and then spun with a gentle calm.

"What happened here?" inquired Jean. "How did you do that? And what's all this?" he asked pointing to the chalked square and the metal bowls. "Will someone tell me what just happened?" repeated Jean in a strong confused French accent.

Rose stepped forward, "This was all Ally's idea, why don't you explain everything to Jean, Ally."

Ally looked hesitant but proudly turned to face Jean and began to explain. "This necklace is immensely powerful, it belonged to Myrddin, Merlin the wizard. The center stone contains an infinite repository of spells and ancient wisdom collected over hundreds of years. It's a bit like a library crammed full of magic knowledge. A white Witch from a pure bloodline can only access this library; with my lineage it allows me to do just that. I'm still learning to process this knowledge but I'm getting better at it. The necklace houses the talons and the spirit of a Welsh Dragon, a mystical creature from the old forests. Dragons had their own form of magic and power, and they too tried to protect their realms from evil. One night, while I was dreaming this Dragon visited me and explained to me the concept of a 'trapped soul spell.' She told me details about the spell. It's designed to capture and restrain a powerful Witch like Elora. How to execute such an elaborate spell was still unclear, but I started to research it. How could I solve the challenges put forth within this spell? It needed some pretty tight coordination. I researched its viability using the modern technology I have access to."

Jean interrupted, "Why would a Dragon help you? We humans were responsible for their extinction."

Ally continued, "The Dragon told me that any form of life is capable of doing good or evil. In times past humans revered Dragons, they fed them in the stark winter months and lived side by side in harmony. The Dragons had seen the good in our race. Then it all changed and they saw the evil in us. They had fought to defeat evil." She paused to let the profoundness of that statement sink in. "Dan and I worked together on solving the details required to pull off this spell. He's pretty creative and helped a lot. The timing was a real challenge, when we finally thought this was a real possibility we contacted the Crocodile Queen to see if we could pull this off. It was dangerous and everything had to be meticulously planned, but the opportunity was too great to ignore. I knew what that woman had done to Dan, I knew what she'd done to Aishen and Kaan, and I didn't want to live the rest of my life looking over my shoulder in fear of this woman's relentless quest for revenge." Ally paused and reflected upon her statement.

"So, we set about springing the trap. I suppose the real reason Elora was so motivated to eliminate any white Witch became abundantly clear to me. We would need more than one white Witch, armed with transportation capabilities, to eliminate her. I started with who could transport, Dan and I using the Dream Cane, Kaan, Atheria, Aishen, the Crocodile Queen and yourself Jean – we could all transport. This meant in theory and with a little organization we could all co-ordinate our locations, we could all end up in the same place at the same time. The trap needed to be set in a holy place, what better location than a place of worship, a church. Dan and I selected this church; we knew it was quiet location and perfect for the job. We fooled the young Pastor into believing he had an evil spirit haunting his church. We claimed to be emissaries from Rome and assured him we could remove the spirit with some preparation. Having cleared the Pastor from the church overnight we set about preparing the trap. We measured out the square to the exact dimensions stated in the spell and placed the metal bowls in the right order as instructed by the Dragon." Ally stopped and smiled at Dan, an acknowledgement to Dan for his support, his creativity and his belief in her.

"We asked Kaan for help, we needed an artifact that would create a signal across realms and timelines to anchor us in a specific place and time, like a lighthouse on a foggy night. Kaan travelled to the Clent Hills, in Birmingham, England. On top of the hills stood a monument consisting of Four Stones, erected by Sir George Lyttelton. George didn't know it, but the stones that he'd sourced were from an ancient Druid site and possessed old world energy used within their pagan rituals. We needed to calibrate our energies, to home in on these stones like a beacon. By placing the stones at the edges of this square we could uniquely identify this energy in this place. Kaan chipped off a piece of stone from the pillars standing to the east, west, north and south. He carefully placed the stones at the edges of our chalked square."

Ally pointed to the corners, "North, east, south and west. Using these stones we managed to time all of our arrivals and accurately triangulate our location. Thank you Kaan." Kaan nodded in response.

"The Dragon described to me the ancient 'soul trap spell' taking great pains to outline the core elements required to restrain a powerful evil spirit like Elora. It had specific components, elements, to render her defenseless. We needed to collect the four key primary elements from this realm. We needed Earth, Water, Fire and Air. Each of these elements had specific requirements attached to them complicating the spell. Each had to be placed within a specific bowl. The bowls were made of metal, containing ore mined from this realm.

Let's start with air. We asked Aishen to do the impossible. She had to transport to sites located in the east, west, north, and south. These sites selected had to be infused with a strong and binding heritage with a deep sense of suffering, sacrifice and spirituality whose energies would permeate the air. Aishen headed east and collected air in a glass vial from Tai Shan Mountain in China. This mountain is China's most holy and sacred site known for conciliation and peace. For the west, Aishen travelled to the Kiev Monastery of the Caves, a historic Orthodox Christian monastery in the Ukraine. Within the caves and catacombs, surrounded by the shrouded bodies of the monks, she collected air in a glass vial. For the north, Aishen collected the clean crisp air from Kathmandu, at the Taleju Bhawani Temple of Kathmandu. It's the oldest of the three temples dedicated to this goddess. Finally, for the south, Aishen was asked to collect the spiritual air of nature and the Earth. She visited Puerto Madryn in Argentina, on the rugged coastline teaming with wildlife. Aishen did well, she'd managed to transport this beautiful planet collecting air samples from east, west, north and south. We'd managed to assemble the samples of the four winds, each reflecting different religions and spiritual energies. Now we needed a way to combine the winds into a potent spiritual force. That's where Atheria came into play. She had this idea of spinning the winds together combining their energies and amplifying their power. Thank you Aishen for a monumental effort, and thank you Atheria for your creative powers."

Ally took a breath; she looked at the bowls behind her for confirmation of the elements. "That's air from the four corners of the Earth, now we needed earth itself, dirt. We wanted holy dirt, dripping with spiritual energy. We asked Aishen to collect some dirt while she was visiting Mount Tai. Aishen delivered again, she collected soil from the sacred Shrine of the Blue Dawn, nestled high in the clouds on top of Mount Tai."

Ally took another look over her shoulder, "Fire. This was one of the elements that challenged us the most. We needed fire, but not just any fire. If it were that simple we could have lit a match. No – we needed deep spiritual fire, powerful Dragon's fire. This was another reason why Elora and her evil forces turned men against the Dragons. She wanted them eradicated, gone from this planet for good, eliminating this wise, good, and powerful creature. We asked Kaan to travel back in time to the death of the last Welsh Dragons. He managed to find this branch, still with smoldering embers burning within its dry wood. We knew the final battle had occurred in the Welsh forests. We knew the Dragon would have defended itself with fire. We were hoping to find that fire and bring it back to the church. Kaan used these dying embers to rekindle a Dragon's fire, thank you Kaan."

Ally walked over to stand next to Dan, "We have fire, wind, and earth, but now we needed water. Again, not just any water, we needed water infused with spirituality – holy water. The Crocodile Queen knew of a great place to collect this. She'd studied at this location and remembered a holy fountain with blessed water. In Bulgaria, south of the capital city Sophia, the Rila Monastery can be found along the Rilska River. Formed to celebrate its cave dwelling founder, a hermit named Ivan of Rila, the Crocodile Queen collected the holy water from this beautiful monastery. Dan carefully poured the water into the metal bowl. He saved some of the holy water and poured it into that bowl over there." Ally pointed to the bowl still sitting on the chair. "Our four Earth elements were now complete. These bowls contained the elements that would trap her evil spirit and render Elora powerless. Her energy would drain and she would not be able to speak or execute any of her spells. If we managed to get her inside this chalk square she would be helpless and vulnerable. I've memorized and researched these sites and these artifacts for months, pouring over every last detail."

Ally reached out and held Dan's hand, "The Crocodile Queen visited Mr. Flash, an obnoxious Hong Kong crime boss. She 'persuaded' him to let her borrow the Fourth Dagger of Xiang. This dagger is an ancient relic created by an ancient Order of Mongolian and Chinese white Witches. Aishen has a direct bloodline to this Order and was the obvious choice to wield this weapon because of her spiritual connection. This dagger, if wielded by a Mongolian white Witch, can inflict a burning spell, a fatal wound for any evil entity. To ensure the dagger entered Elora's body, like a warm knife cutting through butter, Aishen dipped the blade in the bowl of holy water gathered from the Rila Monastery. The trap was set, the fatal blow planned, now came the tricky and dangerous part. How could we get Elora into this chalked square?" Ally looked at the Crocodile Queen almost afraid to continue.

Rose stepped forward and took Jean's hand. "Jean, my love. We needed a solution and I'm not proud of what I did. I knew that Elora would find you one day and I was afraid she would kill you. You were the Knight who killed Wendy, Elora's sister. She would never forgive you and her thirst for revenge would only grow stronger over time. I played upon Elora's revenge. I played upon her need to kill you, hoping her strong desire for revenge would cloud her judgement and offer us the opportunity we needed."

Jean looked deeply into Rose's eyes, "So you used me as bait."

"I'm sorry Jean, we had to."

Jean laughed, "Don't worry my love, I will always trust you, and I know you placed your life on the line for me."

"Jean, my love" Rose stammered, "You did the least, and yet you did the most. You trusted me explicitly and followed the directions written in my note to you without question. Thank you Kaan for graciously delivering the note. Jean, I would rather die than let you down; there was no way that I was going to let that woman near you my love. Because you trusted my blindly, I will always love you and respect you."

Rose faced the others, "Ally wore Myrddin's necklace, it allowed us to enter into Jean's dreamscape, and it protected us from Elora and allowed us to activate a 'soul capture spell.' Elora was so consumed with revenge and hate she didn't see us coming. Within seconds we had her restrained and rendered her powers ineffective. All that was left was to get her here, within this chalked square. That's where the Clent stones came in again. We focused on that frequency and I managed to get us all here. There were so many factors, so many variables that could have gone wrong. But this was a chance worth taking. She's been responsible for so many evil acts throughout the realms. It was fitting that her strong desire for revenge offered Aishen, a white Witch painfully burned by Elora, a chance to exact her revenge. A proud white Witch from the Mongolian Order, Aishen had the motive and the power to finish Elora and rid us all of her insidious ways. I'm proud of what we've accomplished, joining forces for the power of good. The dark lord will be livid, angry with us all. But is this any different to what he normally is? We know the dark lord is evil and he'll never change. Elora clearly enjoyed the sadistic nature of evil, so I say good riddance."

Kaan stepped forward to speak, "I don't mean to cut this short, but we still have work to do, we should help to clean up this mess. These two will need to explain to the Pastor that an evil spirit has been eradicated here. At least they won't have to lie within a holy place. Let's pack these things away."

"I will need to return the dagger to Mr. Flash, then I'm heading back to Crescent Island," she smiled at Jean; it was an invitation for Jean to join her. In an instant she was gone. Atheria disappeared quickly into thin air. They had planned their exits as meticulously as their trap. Kaan, Aishen, and Jean remained to help Dan and Ally pack away the bowls, vials, rocks, and other items into a large bag that Kaan took with him. They cleaned the chalk lines from the church floor, took down the window coverings, and repositioned the church benches as best they could. The window coverings were folded up and packed before they each bid their separate farewells and disappeared into the night. It wasn't long before morning came, with the sun started to rise gloriously above Abilene.

Pastor Albert wasted no time; he'd been worried all night and didn't sleep well. He drove to the church as soon as he could, arriving at around 6am. He shook his head knowing he'd made a mistake still angry with himself for allowing the two strangers to play upon his insecurities and con him into leaving the church. He made a deep sighing noise fearful of the scene he would find inside the church upon his return. He cautiously approached the wooden front doors. Unsure of what to do next he decided to knock on the front door of his own church. Ally and Dan heard the knock, Dan reacted first, "I'll get it, let's hope it's the Pastor." Dan opened the door and greeted their visitor, "Good morning Pastor."

"Oh, thank the lord. Are you both well? I've been worried sick and praying for you both all night."

"Come in," said Dan waving his hand in a sweeping motion. Ally quickly tucked her necklace into her t-shirt obscuring it from view. "Everything went well, come in, we'll tell you all about it." The Pastor entered, a sense of immense relief swept over him as he noticed the church had been restored to its original condition. The Pastor then felt the small pangs of guilt for questioning their motives and allowing his mind to stray into dark areas of doubt.

Ally approached the Pastor with a broad beaming smile, "Good morning Pastor, yes indeed, it was a good night. We were very successful. We managed to do it this time. Not only did we remove this evil spirit within your church, but we managed to eradicate it." Ally chose here words carefully so as not to lie to a Pastor in a holy place. "Dan and myself, Ally," she said tapping her chest and using their real names, "are confident that you'll be left in peace."

The Pastor nodded his appreciation, "How can I thank you both? Can I write to Rome?" he inquired graciously.

Dan stepped forward and shook the Pastors hand, "Knowing that we've done this is thanks enough. Ally and I are grateful that you trusted us, it was a big leap of faith, and we commend you for that." Dan smiled reassuringly. "Its awkward and delicate, our line of work. We arrive in tumultuous times and do some very odd things based upon ancient rituals. It not compatible with the modern image the church wants to convey today. Unfortunately, that's why we don't officially exist. If you contact the church they'll just say we don't know what you're talking about and go into their well-rehearsed cover-up routine. We know what happened and this entity will not bother you again, we will guarantee that to you." Dan saw the smile break out across the Pastor's face, "We must be on our way. We have other matters of business to attend to. We wish you well Pastor, your church is fully restored to a place of worship and it will be safe for you and your congregation."

The Pastor was relieved, "Thank you both, Dan and Ally, was it?"

"It's our pleasure," responded Ally. Dan and Ally both shook the Pastor's hand.

"Do you two need a ride into town?" inquired the Pastor.

"Thank you," Ally jumped in quickly, "We have a ride arranged, we just need to wait in front of the church, they'll be here soon, if there not here already." Ally and Dan bid farewell to the Pastor and started to walk away from the church. The Pastor hated himself for doing it, but he glanced around the church one last time checking to see if anything had been taken. He felt badly for even doubting them.

Ally smiled at Dan as they exited the church, closed the doors behind them and walked along the road adjacent to the river. "What are you smiling at?" asked Dan playfully.

"Its awkward and delicate, our line of work. Really! That's a pretty corny line," they both laughed, "but so true of our new life together. It's only going to get more awkward, and the adventures we're going to have – well. You sure know how to show a girl a good time Dan. I mean, let's go to the US in the 1970's. Who gets to do that? Throw in killing an evil bitch and that's a pretty cool date!" Ally laughed.

"So, this was a date," Dan teased. "Seriously, you did well Ally. You did really well. Only you could have pulled this off. Sure, it was a team effort, but you were the brains behind this, well done."

Ally reached out and held Dan's hand.

"We're going to have some fun, and you're right - our lives will not be normal going forward. You and I will need to stick together and watch each other's backs, no matter what they throw at us." Ally felt the warmth of Dan's hand but her attention was diverted to the movement of a crimson butterfly that fluttered upon the breeze passing their faces. They both looked at each other knowing the Dream Cane was summoning them home.

The End...

"The moment you stop believing in fanciful things, the world stops being fanciful."

\- Phil Armstrong

